#i have this deep sinking feeling that some of my irl friends are gonna turn on me or something with the pronoun change

[smth-against-dogs]

aaahhhhhh gender what the fuuuuuckkk

[triplexdoublex]

Sex Drive part 2

Pairings: Colson x Reader, Colson x Reader x Rook Reader x Rook

Warnings/tags: smut, unexpected exhibitionism, threesome, double penetration, anal, choking, hair pulling, mild spitting, humiliation, jealousy, being walked in on

Authors note: Being wet DOES NOT = consent irl, just had to put that out there as it may seen I’m suggesting that in a certain scene, Kells is just saying sexy shit and reader is 100% consenting.

Part 1 here

*************

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to go without sex the whole month,” you tease with a giggle as Colson secures his black flag bandana around your eyes from behind you. “Can’t even make it two more weeks, huh?” You tease.

He roughly grips your jaw, turning your head to speak into your ear. “Funny, I don’t remember giving you permission to talk,” he grits through his teeth as he strips your body bare. “Now, walk!” he commands, pushing you forward.

“Oooh where are we going?” You question playfully.

“Don’t worry about it,” he quips, shoving you through the doorway of the adjoining hotel room, unbeknownst to you.

Once inside the room he quickly removes the bandana from your eyes and tosses you down on the bed before you have a chance to view your surroundings.

“Colson?” you push yourself up on your hands confused. “This isn’t our ro — Jesus Christ!” You shriek when you take notice of Rook sitting in an oversized chair in the corner of the room, his elbows resting on his knees with both hands wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle between his legs, his eyes scoping out your naked frame. “What the hell is going on?” You look quizzically between Colson and Rook while clutching a pillow over your exposed body.

Colson looks proud of himself, smirking as he watches your face morph through a series of reds, settling on the brightest. If there was one thing stronger than Colson’s jealousy it was his humiliation kink. He loved the way you blushed and got all shy and flustered whenever you got embarrassed, and he couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing for you than one of his best friends seeing your most intimate areas… and perhaps even touching them — with your permission of course.

“Is someone gonna answer me, what’s going on?” You repeat.

“Well I figured with all the times I’ve caught you checking out Rook I’d give you the opportunity to fuck him.” Colson answers nonchalantly.

“Colson I thought we established I was only checking him out to make you jealous so you’d be more rough with me,” you remind him. ‘Ok maybe the use of the word ‘only’ was stretching the truth a bit,’ you think to yourself. You know damn well that wasn’t the only reason. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find Rook attractive. “That’s why I’m punished, ‘no dick for a month’ remember?”

“That’s not what I said — I said you’re not getting MY dick for a month. You’re welcome to have Rooks….while I watch of course,” he smirks.

As if that was his cue, Rook stands and walks over towards you. He places his half drunken beer on the nightstand and takes a seat at the foot of the bed.

You swear your heart stops beating for a full ten seconds before you can form words. “Have you gone insane!? You want me to fuck Rook...while you watch?” You question in shock, certain he has lost his damn mind.

“Well, I mean, you’re free to say no… but let’s be honest, we both know that you won’t,” Colson sits on the bed next to you and snatches the pillow covering you from your grasp. “Just look at that pussy, glistening!” He prys your legs open to show Rook just how much the whole idea already has you absolutely dripping. “Now does this look like the pussy of a girl who’s about to say no?” he runs a finger through your slick folds gathering your arosal and turns to Rook who just bites his lip and shakes his head.

There’s no hiding the fact that you want this, you’re more shocked at how into it Colson seems, but he’s right, you certainly weren’t gonna say no.

“Don’t be shy, come have a taste Rookie,” Colson taunts holding out his glossed finger. Rook moves further up the bed, opposite colson, one boy now on each side of you. He leans in and extends his tongue curling it around the silken thread of your excitement stringing from Colson’s finger, and pulls it into his mouth.

“Whatcha think bro, how she taste?”

“Mmmm, fuck! Amazing actually!” Rook exclaims, smacking his tongue against his lips, savoring your essence. “No word of a lie bro, some of the best pussy I’ve ever tasted, ya lucky bastard.”

“Yeah?” Colson’s chuckles at his enthusiasm. “Well help me get her warmed up a little, then she’s all yours,” he says gently stroking your clit. “Although she clearly doesn’t need it,” he jokes, amused by how wet you are. “But something tells me she’ll enjoy both of us playing with her for a bit. Ain’t that right baby?” He smirks, looking at you.

“Please,” you squirm under Colson’s touch and the anticipation of Rooks.

Slowly Rook begins trailing the tips of his fingers up your inner thigh, inching closer to where to want it most before finally joining Colson’s. They join forces , sandwiching your clit between both of their fingertips as they work you methodically.

“Oh, fuck,” your voice shakes, a cocktail of nerves and pleasure coursing through you. As good as it feels and as much as you want it , you can’t help but be a little anxious, it’s been a long time since anyone but Colson has seen you naked never mind touching you like this. “You two are gonna be the death of me,” you moan breathily arching your back up off the bed.

“Relax slut, this just the beginning” Colson leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your nipples as he glides his fingers down to your entrance. He easily slips in two of them, the cool metal of his rings bumping against your warm heat with every curl of his fingers; Rook now having solo reign over your clit. Colson’s free hand grips your breast, his thumb and forefinger tugging at your nipple, before taking it into his mouth. Rook follows suit attaching his mouth to your opposite breast, making sure to leave soft violet markings in his wake, claiming you, if only for the night.

“Alright, I’ll let you take over from here,” Colson says to Rook, slipping his fingers out of you. “Be a good girl for Rook,” he grips your chin smearing your juices along your jawline before retreating to the oversized chair in the corner, where he begins palming himself through his jeans. And like a shark to blood, Rook is drawn to your scent, his mouth moving up your chest, and neck, devouring your slick remnants with open mouthed kisses, while he continues to massage the sweet spot between your thighs.

“You taste so good,” he smiles against your mouth before kissing you. His tongue prods at your lips , begging for entrance. You part your pout welcoming him inside; your tongues beginning a do-si-do. He feels so foreign in your mouth; taboo in the best way.

“Yeah?” You break the kiss. “Why don’t you taste it straight from the source,” you say seductively.

“Yes ma’am. Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Rook smirks before disappearing between your thighs.

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Colson chides from the corner of the room, freeing himself from the confines of his bulging jeans. Slowly, he strokes himself in rhythm with Rooks tongue fucking in and out of you, watching as he gathers your sweetness on his tastebuds.

“Mmmmm, God—“ Rook huffs in unbelievable enjoyment against your core, before attaching his lips snugly around your clit, providing it with gentle pulsating suction. It’s different than you’re used to — Kells being more of the rapid tongue flicking type— but damn, if it doesn’t feel equally as good.

“Uhh, yes! Just like that, Rook. Don’t stop!” You exclaim in pleasure; one hand gripping the sheets, the other the back of Rooks neck.

Hearing you say Rook’s name like that has Colson squeezing his cock harder and faster, his jealousy unintentionally tightening his grip. He’s enjoying watching you be pleasured but can’t curb feeling possessive, in fear that perhaps you’re enjoying this a little TOO much.

“I still... Mmm...can’t… get over… how good you taste,” Rook speaks between open-mouth kisses to your tenderness. “I swear I could eat you as my last meal,”

“Dawg, keep talking to my fucking girl like that and it WILL be your last meal,” Colson half jokes, his jealousy peaking for sure — now beating his dick as if it were Rook. “How ‘bout you just shut up and fuck her now, before I change my mind.”

“Ready?” Rook questions with a smirk ,from between your thighs.

“Ready!” You squirm impatiently, already missing the contact of his tongue .

Quickly, Rook strips off his leather vest and other clothing until he’s completely naked. Just as he’s about to get settled between your legs Colson pipes up again from the corner.

“Baby I want you to ride him, lemme see those titties and ass bounce for me while you fuck yourself on his dick.”

“Mmmm hell yeah! I wanna see too,” Rook says excitedly, moving to lay on his back; arms behind his head.

“You’re pushing it Rook!” Colson warns.

“Baby, chill,” you giggle at how flustered Colson’s getting. “I know this pussy only belongs to you,” you turn facing him, spreading yourself open. Colson groans at the sight, his eyes momentarily slipping shut as he tries not to bust right there. “Besides—,” you smirk. “This was your idea.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah C’mon… less talking, more fucking,” Colson orders.

You climb over Rook who’s waiting with cock in hand pointed towards the heavens and squat over him, hovering just above the tip before sinking down to the hilt with a moan. You push back up, and come down fast, your skin echoing off Rooks with a slap.

“Ugh fuck!,” Rook sits halfway up to mouth at your breasts and neck as you continue to bounce in his lap.

You turn your head back slightly to watch Colson, his teeth sunken deep into his bottom lip, eyes so intensely glued to every roll of your hips, and his hips thrusting up to fuck into his own palm. You turn back to Rook and pick up the pace riding him harder and faster knowing Colson’s close to finishing. You don’t know what burns more the desire inside of you or your thighs, but you don’t stop, determined to make both men and yourself cum at any moment now.

“Oh, Rook!” You cry out with your head thrown back and hands planted firmly on his tattooed chest. You’re so so close.

“Ahww, shit, you gonna cum?” Rook questions out of breath. “Me too.”

Just then the hotel door clicks open “Hey, Rook have you seen Kel— WHAT THE FUCK!!” Exclaims Slim completely caught off guard by what he’s seeing, bringing you and Rook to a halt. “Girl, I know you think it’s cute to make Kells jealous and shit so he’ll choke or whatever crazy shit you’re into but you took it took it too far this time, cuz Kells about to choke both you to DEATH when he finds out.”

“Yo! Why the fuck does everyone keep talking when I’m tryna cum?” Colson yells annoyed and on the edge from the corner of the room.

“Kells???” Slim questions peering around the door. “Da fuck is going on in here? Ya know what, second thought, I don’t wanna know. I— I’m just… I’m just gonna go,” Slim states in utter shock and confusion as he backs out the door.

“Good idea, try fucking knocking next time maybe? Rook shouts after him.

“Fuck, my legs are killing me!” You huff as soon as you hear the door click shut, shifting your weight onto your knees. Immediately, Rook takes over, snapping his hips up and into you from below.

“Aye, I can’t take this shit no more my hands about to fucking fall off, lemme get in there,” Colson says getting up from the chair and kicking off his jeans and boxers. He tugs his shirt over his head and climbs behind you on the bed. He spits in his hand ,coating his cock with his saliva, then brings the tip to the only hole not currently occupied: your ass. You’re no stranger to anal; it is Colson’s favorite afterall. You welcome the penetrating stretch as he pushes in. It’s slightly awkward at first as the boys figure out and establish a rhythm that works for all three of you. Their cocks pound in and out of you in unison; one in each hole, providing you with the most pleasurable, satisfying fullness. “Unh, baby so fucking good for us. Taking it so well,” Colson praises you through gritted teeth . “You like being a little whore for us like this, huh? Rook fucking your pussy while I fuck this ass?” He asks crudely with a hardy slap to your backside.

“I fucking love it — YES! Treat me like a fucking whore!” You exclaim in wild passion, as you teeter on the edge of orgasm.

“Oh we’ll treat you like a whore alright!” Colson speaks through his groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair using it as leverage to pound into you harder.

With your head yanked back in Colson’s grasp, Rook takes advantage of the unoccupied column of flesh above him, wrapping his hand tightly around your throat. The way both boys have you feeling like a used plaything has you cumming in seconds, riding out wave after wave. The noise they make as you clench around them both is like heaven; Rook’s slightly louder and high pitched than Colson’s deep throaty rumble. They cum almost in perfect time with eachother; with Colson just a few seconds sooner, filling your ass with his warmth, as Rook pulls out, busting his load up onto your stomach. The three of you collapse into a sticky sweaty mess, both boys rolling to your sides; the air thick with heavy breathing and the smell of sex.

The way Rook looks completely spent and fucked out of his mind is hilariously adorable; still trying desperately to catch his breath, his leg visibly twitching and shaking and his hand running through his sweaty hair with a ‘did that really just happen?’ expression on his face .

“You ok there buddy?” Colson’s laughs, reaching over you to give Rook’s arm a tap with the back of his hand. Colson’s used to having crazy sex with you by now.

“Umm ...I think so.” He releases a long winded breath followed by a brief chuckle.

“You know what my favorite part about this was?” You turn to Colson. “I broke you!!” You tease.”Not only did I get Rook’s dick but I got yours too! Slim was right when he said you wouldn’t last through my punishment with your sex drive!”

“For the record, I said you weren’t gonna get my dick in your PUSSY, for a month. Now correct me if I’m wrong but wasn’t that your ass I just fucked? Nice try, you’re still punished.”

*******

Tag list: @dannyboy-trash (won’t let me tag you) , @famousobservationfan @blxxdyvalentine19xx

[peter-parcoeur]

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“  Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower.  Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house.  The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 19

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 Hopefully you’ve guessed by now that is my “Billy Russo Deserves Real Love AU” as I totally refuse to accept what happened in S2! The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

He was supporting a swaying and loose-limbed Billy Russo, who was looking at you with big wide eyes and a goofy smile on his face.

Frank grinned at you, “Uhhh... someone’s had a bit too much to drink,” he said gruffly. “I think he needs to lie down.”

You stood up and went over to the two men, taking Billy’s other arm and draping it over your shoulder. “C’mon, Frank... let’s get this drunken mess into his bed.”

“Heyyyyy,” came Billy’s slurred voice, “M’not a drinkin’ mess.” He hiccuped, “Drunken.” Another small hiccup, “Just had coupla whishkies, s’all.” Frank gave you an apologetic look over the top of Billy’s lolling head as you both shuffled him along towards his bedroom.

Some of your clothes and underwear were lying around in there, and you quickly scooted out from under Billy’s arm to grab and tidy them away. As you did, Billy slowly drooped over to one side like a giant plant someone had forgotten to water, and Frank took more of a grip on him. “I’ll just drop him on the bed and leave you to it,” he grinned and dumped his tall friend on it as he spoke, before turning and leaving the bedroom.

“Help yourself to a drink, Frank,” you yelled as the door closed.

Billy had faceplanted onto the pillows as Frank had dropped him, and now gave a long groan. You sat next to him on the bed, sighing and stroking his shoulder, “Oh Billy.” “Mmmfffhh?” “Let’s get these clothes off you.” He rolled over onto his back, smirking and trying to focus his eyes on you. “Yeah!!!” he yelled, making you jump.

“So you can go to sleep, you big drunkard,” you laughed.

“Nahhhh, wannahavesexwithyouangel,” he slurred. You didn’t answer, just started taking his clothes off; his leather jacket and his t-shirt came off first, and then you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. His hips started doing a kind of hula-hula dance against your hand, “Mmmhmmmm.... yes.... angel,” he mumbled, eyes beginning to close. You took his boots off before whipping off his jeans, then rolled him over a bit so you could pull the covers over him.

You kissed his lips, smelling the whisky on him and stroking his hair back off his forehead. “I love you, Billy,” you whispered, “...you big drunken fool,” and went to stand up. A hand whipped out from under the sheets, grabbing your wrist surprisingly firmly and you heard him mumble, “M’not drunk... love you too, sweetheart.” Then his hand fell back down onto the bed, and you heard little soft snores starting to issue from his mouth.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Walking back into the living room, you surprised Frank and Karen just as they were having a little makeout session on the couch. They sprang apart, Frank going pink. Another blushing Marine, you chuckled to yourself as you winked at Karen.

“Anyone need a top-up?” you asked, picking up your nearly-empty glass. Karen shook her head, and Frank replied, “Nah, m’fine, thanks. We’d better get goin’. Billy OK?” You grinned, heading to the kitchen, “Out like a light.”

He looked serious for a second, “Y’know he’s takin’ this really hard? He’s tryin’ to pretend he ain’t, but he is. He only had a few whiskies and boom, he was wasted. Billy can usually sink double that amount before it begins to even show.”

You heaved out a deep sigh, lordy now even Frank was hitting you with the guilt trips. “I haven’t actually said ‘No’ to him y’know, Frank,” you said patiently, pouring yourself another G&T. Walking over to one of the armchairs and sitting down, you continued, “We’re just putting the brakes on a little bit.” Frank shrugged, “He’s worried you’re gonna change your mind about bein’ with him, and you’re usin’ this as an excuse to ditch him.” Frank suddenly laughed, “He’ll kill me for tellin’ you that!”

“He’s said more or less the same to me already, so don’t worry about it.” You took a big sip of your drink, “And I promise I’m not doing that, Frank. I just really don’t want the two of us to ruin this by rushing into it.”

Frank looked a little bit happier, and Karen chipped in, “It does make sense, Frank. They’ve fallen for each other so fast. I think it’s wise to take a moment and think carefully before they take such a big step.” ”Yeah,” you nodded, “...thank you, Karen. I do already love Billy, and it’s scary how fast it’s happened, but I’m not going to change my mind about that.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After the two of them had left, you tidied up the previous night’s remnants of dinner and cleared the table. Then you made yourself a quick snack, eating it in front of the TV while watching some cop show. It wasn’t that late, but you felt quite tired and decided to join your drunken sleeping boyfriend in bed.

Climbing in carefully next to him, you’d just laid your head on the pillow when you smelt whisky fumes approaching you. Billy was fast asleep, but somehow he still managed to scoot over towards you and then two arms got you in a bear hug. His face nuzzled into your neck, and you heard a little sigh.

Your guilty thoughts swirling round in your mind, you eventually managed to drift off to sleep.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Not surprisingly, you woke up before Billy the next morning and took a moment to gaze fondly at his sleeping face. His mouth was open a little, and you could hear those cute little soft snores of his. A lock of hair had fallen across one eye, and he was screwing up his face every few seconds as it tickled him.

You moved it away from his face, and he settled back down. Getting up carefully, you headed for the kitchen to make him breakfast, and decided he would need something to soak up all the alcohol.

About five minutes later, bacon sizzling, eggs and hash browns frying, you heard a big yawn behind you and turned to find Billy standing there in just his briefs. He rubbed his hands up and down his face a few times, then looked at you bleary-eyed. “Mornin’, sweetheart,” you heard, his voice a bit croaky. Smiling at him, you gestured to the table, “Morning, poppet. How’s that head of yours?” He screwed his face up a bit, “Not good.” You picked up the glass of water and packet of painkillers you’d got ready and handed them to him.

“Take these, then you’re gonna have some breakfast and a cup of tea, then a shower. You might feel a little more human by then.”

He popped a couple of the painkillers out of the pack, tossed them into his mouth and took a big gulp of water. He grinned, “Haven’t felt this bad for a long time.” You’d turned back to attending to the food, “Frank said you only had a few. Got wasted really quickly.” “Drinkin’ on an empty stomach,” he shrugged, as you turned back to look at him, “...not a good idea.” “He also said you’re still worrying that I’m using this as an excuse to ditch you.” He scowled, “Big snitch.” “Now, Billy - you’d said as much to me yourself.”

“He’s still snitchin’,” he grumbled, “....told him that in confidence.” You served up the bacon, eggs and hash browns and put the loaded plate in front of him. “Eat!” you ordered, and he obediently took the cutlery you held out to him and started tucking in. “Mmmm,” he said through a mouthful of it, “S’good.” “Need to soak up all that alcohol swilling around you,” you grinned, sitting down with your own plate. “But you had a good boy chat with Frank, yeah?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Felt good to unload.” You reached over and stroked his hand, “Billy.... I’m not going to ditch you. Really. Truly. Honestly. I need you to believe that.” His big eyes met yours, “I do believe you.” You shook your head, “I don’t think you really do, you big sap.” He grinned, “I think I prefer ‘poppet’, you know.” “Don’t try and change the subject, Billy.” He ate another forkful of egg and hash brown, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “I really want to believe it, but I’m really scared you’ll leave me.”

You grabbed his hand, “Billy, truly - I’m not going to leave you.” He nodded, big dark eyes looking into yours, “I hear you. I’ll try not to be scared anymore.” You suddenly had a vision of a really young Billy, offloaded by his uncaring mother onto the state system of group homes. Oh... okay, of course. Abandonment issues. Getting up, you threw your arms around him and pulled him close to you. “I’m not like your mother, Billy. I’m not going to throw you away, I’m going to keep you as close as close can be.”

He smiled up at you, hand stroking your cheek, “Okay, sweetheart. I like the sound of that.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Packing Billy off to the shower in the main bathroom, you tidied up in the kitchen and then headed to the en-suite to take one yourself. As you were drying off, you heard your phone vibrate and saw a text from Karen pop up.

Karen: Hey, you. How’s Billy doing this morning?

You: Hey yourself. He’s got the hangover from hell.

Karen: Look, I just wanted to let you know, Frank’s really worried about him. Hasn’t seen him like this before.

You: It literally just dawned on me at breakfast, he’s got abandonment issues, cos of his mother, you know? So I just told him, I’m not like her. I’m going to keep him close.

Karen: Oh yeah, of course! OK that’s good you told him that. Just keep reinforcing it!

You: I will. How’re you two?

Karen: Good ;) if you know what I mean....

You: Hahahah yes I do! OK - have fun! ;)

Then it occurred to you that you’d better let your team know that you wouldn’t be in the next couple of days, as you had some Billy baby-sitting to do. Not that you were about to let them know the reason for you ditching work.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

No sign of Billy as you went back into the living area, in fact the apartment was really silent, suspiciously so. Heading to the sofa, you were suddenly tackled from behind and thrown down face first onto the sofa.

“You owe me,” growled Billy’s voice in your ear, and the t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms you’d just put on were systematically stripped off you, along with your underwear. He wasn’t in any mood to wait, and he entered you from behind with one deep thrust. You gave a big gasp and a squeal as you felt the immediate stretch, and he smoothed your hair with one big hand, “Ssssh, sweetheart, you’ll get used to it in a minute,” he whispered. Then he began thrusting into you, fast and deep, kissing your neck and shoulders as he kept you pinned down underneath him.

There was nothing much you could do from where you lay, could only continue to let Billy aggressively pound into you from behind, soft grunts escaping his lips every few seconds. He just kept on going, and you found yourself wondering if this was a punishment of some kind, Billy taking back his usual position of control because he suddenly felt powerless. Then you wondered why you were feeling the need to psychoanalyse him right at this particular moment. Probably because you were surprised by this turn of events, Billy never having been this dominant with you before.

You weren’t sure how you felt about it. On the one hand, you weren’t sure you liked being thrown down and rutted on by your boyfriend-turned-caveman. But on the other hand, a tiny guilty voice in your head said, you’re actually quite turned on by it, aren’t you?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You felt Billy’s hand grip your arms even more firmly, and you heard, “You’re mine!” in your ear, followed by, “Who’s your Alpha Male? Huh? Who is it?” You squirmed under him, “You are, Billy.” A long low groan from him and you knew he was going to come very soon. “Yeah,” he gasped, “...and don’t you forget it, angel.” Then you felt the tension in his body which you knew signalled his climax and he released with a groan, giving a few final thrusts into you.

You felt his body weight increase as he relaxed down onto you, then he rolled off you, pulling out as he did so. He lay squashed between you and the back of the sofa, panting and looking up at the ceiling. Still feeling a little irritated, you said quietly, “That make you feel better, Billy? Big neanderthal vibes going on there?” He eventually looked across at you, shamefaced, “Sorry.” He gazed away and back upwards, “I’m sorry. Dunno what came over me.”

You turned towards him, laying your hand on his cheek, “I think you feel as if you’re not in control, Billy. So you decided to try and take it back.”

His dark eyes turned back towards you, “I think you’ve hit the nail on the head, sweetheart. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. So, yeah - I’m sorry.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d taken another quick shower, re-dressed and made your way back to the living area. When Billy had jumped you, he’d been naked as the day he was born, but now he was in t-shirt and jogging bottoms, perched on the edge of the sofa. His head was down, looking at his fingers as he twisted them in his lap. He looked like a kid who’d been sent to sit on the naughty step.

Sitting down next to him, you put your arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Billy,” you whispered, “...it’s alright. I know you’re hurting, but we’ll get past this okay? I love you.” He hugged you back, and you noticed that his cheeks were damp. “Oh, Billy! Don’t be upset, please.” “I’m so sorry. I just feel like I’m going into meltdown or somethin’.” His mouth found yours and the two of you shared a passionate kiss.

You pulled back slightly, looking at him. His eyes were still big, wide and a little glossy as you looked into them, and you kissed his nose. Just what had you done to this man?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Persuading Billy to go out for a walk before lunch, the two of you strolled round the neighbourhood, dodging dog-walkers and joggers as you went. After working up a bit of an appetite, you headed to the diner you’d been to before.

There was a different server working that day, a girl who had obviously decided that you were invisible and addressing all her attention to Billy. You sighed a big sigh and Billy caught this, saying to the waitress, “And my beautiful almost-fiancée will have.....?” looking over and smiling at you. She gave you a very false smile, waiting for you to choose something but you were too busy smiling soppily back at Billy. You’d just realised that - despite his little caveman episode earlier on - you didn’t ever want any man except Billy in your life.

Still gazing into his dark chocolate eyes, you heard yourself saying, “I think I’ll have that ring, please.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry

[firstknightss]

GWAINCELOT ESSAY THREE???

[commentary voice] ah yes and this gwaincelot essay.... which turned into a fic was inspired by @nextstopparis and @little-ligi

GWAINE TEACHING LANCELOT HOW TO READ. and thats how they actually CONFESS.

imagine gwaine seeing lancelot trip up reading leon’s plan for the day, seeing him trying to understand it. and gwaines, hes a little in love. Hes. Hes a little hit with feelings for this Noble (tm) knight. So OF COURSE he CANT EMOTION and he tries to show his affection for lancelot without yknow being in ‘loVE’

he comes over with his swishy hair and bantery tone like “oooOhHh LANCELOT! Lancey! Hey! Hello! Can’t read leon’s goddamn awful handwriting huh?”

And Lancelots embarrassed and flushes red and gwaine thinks hes Fucked Up (and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, this is the first time he’s actually felt emotions this deep for someone) and tries to fix it panickedly, like the Anxiety Clown He Is.

He keeps on saying sorry and apologising, and Lancelot, the EVER CALM KNIGHT GUY, goes “it’s fine, it’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you...” and then he hesitates. He HESITATES. “....it’s just that...” and then he BITES HIS LIP and gwaine thinks he might just faint there and then, “...i cant read.”

and now it hits him, gwaine, gwaine, who thought literacy was something trash and something he didn’t really need, realises how important it is. and so, yknow because hes kind of wrapped in those Emotions (tm), he pulls lancelot’s sleeve after practice, when they’re alone in the changing room. (and if lancelot wasn’t so tired and miserable, he would have easily seen gwaine BLUSH)

And he, shyly asks if lancelot wouldnt mind being tutored by him.

Now Lancelot is OVERJOYED, and he’s borderline CRYING because lancelot, poor old village boy lancelot who’d been kicked out of the knights of camelot, and had to become a MERCENARY and fight for masters who didn’t care for him, has NEVER HAD someone literally CARE about him so much. (Apart from Merlin. He loves merlin <3)

so now imagine lancelot waking up an hour early the next morning, and showing up into gwaine’s room. He knows gwaine literally doesnt sleep with a lock, so he just barges in, and starts shaking gwaine.

Now GWAINE sleeps like a Log (had so much shit going on irl, time to sleep it away) and when he opens his bleary eyes, seeing lancelot in one of his stupid v neck shirts over him, hes like “....h...helo??”

and lancelot’s all like. “We- werent YOU gonna give me reading lessons.” And gwaine nods, yawning (and in that moment lancelot thinks gwaine looks unimaginably cute, so cute that he wants to literally ruffle gwaine’s hair and run his hands through how silky and brown it is.)

THEN gwaine pulls on the dont care-ish mask, and makes his arms into a pillow under his head, as he leans against the wall behind his bed, in some kind of somewhat???flirty??? manner??? [i dont...i dont know what hes trying to do. On the other hand! Not does Lancelot :) ]

Lancelot, does not realise this is gwaine’s poor attempt at flirting - since he’s seen gwaine ACTUALLY flirting and this is like. Nothing. And its also poorly executed. Which is NOTHING like gwaine.

So he pulls gwaine’s arm, and half hauls him out of bed.

As gwaine’s head crashes into lancelot’s stomach, he can smell lancelot’s clothes. They smell of flowers, and cotton and everything so natural and gwaine, who literally smells of wine, and wood and Tavern. (And aftershave, or the 500AD equivalent)

[see here, see im trying to bring themes of dionysis okay. OkayyyyyyyyY. yours truly likes looking at greek mythology. And both these two complete dionysis]

Gwaine, in his sleepy stupor, nestles his head on Lancelot’s hip, who gives a sigh and stands there. One hand clutching gwaine’s, leaving the other free.....

....to rake through his soft, flowy brown hair. And twirl his fingers through its waves, and Gwaine cuddles in further.

And since Lancelot left the door open, Leon (the other bitch who wakes up at 4am to do idk nothing) sees them two...like that, illuminated by the SUNLIGHT behind them, and smiles a little.

And then he trips over the stairs, the moment is lost.

Gwaine and Lancelot pull away at the same time, and gwaine’s face turns back to “ha ha im a Jerk (tm)” and if he wasnt too busy trying to hide how flustered he was, he’d see Lancelot looking at him the way he used to look at GWEN.

They both blink and look at each other, understandingly, neither of them to speak of this again.

And then Gwaine drags himself out of bed, and Lancelot raises his eyebrows as he watches him (totally not checking him out) haul out a book from his cupboard.

Gwaine’s too sleepy for this, he keeps yawning and rubbing his eyes (looking like a cat, Lancelot notes) and Lancelot takes a deep breath, his eyes understanding.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Lancelot, I love..” he bites his tongue, cursing his half asleep mind “..doing this, and love hanging out with you...I just cant stay up this early.”

Reading lessons, from now on, are at 1:30am-whenever Gwaine and Lancelot stop rambling about Odysseus and Circe and Telemachus

[i dont know any other ancient books apart from like. Ancient greek/Roman ones. So i guess. Its not historically accurate,,,,BUUIT this is a fanfic for a pair who had like no scenes together SO i think i can take some ✨creative liberties✨]

Lancelot has heard of the journey of Aneas from travelling bards, singing songs in his native old english. Gwaine’s eyes are quick at latin, and he learnt the flaws of Romulus and Remus in his pure latin. Gwaine’s a good teacher, and lancelot is a quick study, and it’s not long before they’re arguing over which Goddess caused the most harm in the Illiad.

Gwaine’s never met someone who he could reveal that he loved reading to, he loved doing.

Lancelot’s never met someone who he could tell he couldn’t read, and ask if they could teach him, love learning.

They make it work.

The other knights notice, of course they notice. Percival notices how Lancelot stumbles into the Gwaine’s room at night, bright eyed. Elyan notices Lancelot and Gwaine’s voices from Gwaine’s room opposite him; sometimes slow, Gwaine speaking slowly and Lancelot following; sometimes heated and passionate.

(They’re arguing. They’re arguing about how to pronounce Minerva)

Merlin finds the two, in the early hours of the morning - when the birds are figuring what song they sing today - on Gwaine’s bed.

Gwaine leaned against the bedframe, his trousered legs splayed over the sheets. Loosely braided, long brown hair fell over his closed eyelids, his mouth in a small smile.

And Merlin follows his arm draped over Lancelot, snuggled beside him, his head on his broad shoulder, every breath of wind pushing against curly black hair, making it almost /bounce/. His eyes are covered by the other man’s hair, and he looks...content. More content than Merlin has ever seen him.

He slips out as quietly as he came in, and smirks, hes gotta tell arthur they finally got their shit together oh GOD

Its no surprise to anyone but them, when Arthur pulls Lancelot out of training, and into his chambers.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Lancelot.” He starts, his face geniune, his voice giving away hints of relief. (He thought he was never going to see his knight smile again after all the ordeals that had happened to him)

“Oh...” Lancelot’s heart sinks, “...how did you find out, Sire?”

Arthur blinks, taking in the change of mood in Lancelot, maybe it wasn’t anything important, maybe they were trying to keep it casual, hell they didnt want the king knowing.

“I- uh, I just noticed...” Goddamnit Merlin, and Goddamn his need to tell him everything he saw. (Merlin had advised him not to do this, as they sat on his bed after a long night. This was really his fault.)

Lancelot pales, and he places his hands down on the table beside him, palms slapping stone as he did so.

“Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth then,” his voice is quiet, and Arthur steps closer, “Sire I am not of Noble birth, and was born in a village - as you know.”

Arthur nods, his arms crossed, but his Kingly Bravado fell away at the sight of his knight, and one of his closest friends, being this vulnerable.

“Yes I know, but what does this ha-“

“And we children in the village we-“ he falters, “-we were never taught to read.”

“Yes, no I understand, I-“ he pauses, Lancelot’s words hitting him a bit too late, this was about literacy?

This, this whole conversation was about literacy?

Not being gay?

Merlin was going to have a field day

“Sire?”

“I understand Lancelot, and is this why you feel a little out of place with the other knights?” He carries it on, with a smile, he has a few questions to ask merlin.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked Gwaine to tutor me from time to time, although, the sessions carry through late into the night, which may have been affecting my performance at practice. I’ll have you know that this is a temporary th-“

“It’s fine Lancelot,” Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, “You are still exceptional at practice,”

“Thank you Sire,” Lancelot twinkles.

✨

“Theyre, theyre not together?” Merlin cant stop laughing, tears streaming down his face, “theyre not TOGETHER?? oh my God arthur what did you DO”

They sit together on Arthur’s bed, drinking wine from stemless cups together, with Arthur recounting the events of the day; red faced.

“I mean, it was your idea Merlin.”

“I just saw them, and I assumed...I didnt...I didnt think youd ASK them.”

“What do you think I’d do then?? Let them be on their merry way.”

“Yes!”

✨

“Do you like me?” Gwaine asks, unexpectedly, one night, the moon vibrant against the loud sea.

“You’re...tolerable...” Lancelot says, a smile tugging at his lips, as the silver moonlight falls against his hair, a halo around him.

✨

The knights give them the look every morning, as the two of them stumbled out of the same room, more frequently than ever.

Sometimes Lancelot would throw on Gwaine’s shirt, when he’d crumpled his own beyond repair. Sometimes Gwaine would put some of Lancelot’s hair oil on, when his hair was frizzy.

They gave each other knowing looks when Gwaine and Lancelot started whispering and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.

✨

And then Stupid gwaine had to go get fucking stabbed, and their delicate dance was like trying to waltz through a minefield.

Lancelot clutches onto Gwaine’s arm as Merlin feels his forehead with shaking hands.

“He’s burning up.”

“Infection...?” Lancelot sounds broken, and nods, fumbling with his pack to find some bandages.

It was just a simple quest; a save the day, get the girl, do various harmless shenanigans type of quest.

He’d half expected Gwaine to get the girl, and he cant help but give out a half choked laugh. Gwaine had no idea what hit him when she turned out to be the evil one all along.

He tries to forget that Gwaine showed no interest in her, he tries to forget that Gwaine’s been less frequent at the Tavern, he tries to forget that he hasn’t seen Gwaine with anyone since months now.

Gwaine, his beautiful Gwaine was lying on his lap, hot red blood rushing from his side, staining his polished chainmail with dark, sticky blood.

He’s been out for nearly an hour now, and Lancelot remembers carrying him, through the entire forest, forgetting his sword and his helmet and just grabbing Gwaine and getting the shit out of there.

Gwaine’s lack of self preservation was really rubbing off on Lancelot nowadays.

Merlin watches as Lancelot holds back tears, his own eyes stinging. Gwaine can’t die like this, he can’t die like this....

“hælan beorn adl”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and Lancelot could feel warmth coming back into the fingers he was grabbing.

He was coming back.

And then the weight of everything hits him.

He was in Fucking Love.

✨

“Hey.” Gwaine’s voice is rough from disuse, but Lancelot nearly sobs when he hears the voice.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again, amor meus.” He puts his head down on Gwaine’s chest; finding the hammering of his heart calming.

He shimmies onto Merlin’s bed, which Gwaine had been lying in for the past few days.

“Did you mean, ami meus?” Gwaine sounds tired, too tired to be awake.

“Huh? Did i say something else?” Lancelot decides to play dumb, a sparkle in his eyes,

“I thought I heard amor meus,” Gwaine pushes his nose into Lancelot’s hair, taking in the wonderful smell of coconut.

“Well then, at least your hearing’s okay, amor meus.”

Gwaine gulped, and was sure Lancelot could hear his loud swallow.

“Lancelot, I hope this isnt a big joke with me teachin you latin and all,” Gwaine’s voice is a little wobbly from the slee deprivation and the magic and the pain numbers, “because I’ll have you know that I really love you, and I cant go on like this any longer,”

“Its okay Gwaine, I learnt latin from the man I love, of course it’s not a joke.”

“The man you love? Who’s tha-“

Realisation hits him like a brick.

Oh.

Oh.

“Me?” His voice cracks, and Lancelot looks up, a smirk on his face.

“Of course dumbass.”

“Like I’m meant to know that,” Gwaine tries to keep his dont care-ish aura, but they both know he’s too exhausted to keep that up.

“mmm?”

Gwaine kisses him on the nose, and he wraps himself around him.

And thats how Merlin finds them later that day, eyes blinking as he stood there.

✨

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Lancelot.” Arthur coughs.

“Is that what that whole talk was about???”

“Answer the question.” His words sound harsh, but he’s barely hiding a smile.

“I’m glad too, I’m Glad I found Gwaine too.” Lancelot blushes, turning to gwaine.

“Why are you asking anyway, Princess?”

“Oh just, making sure this time.”

[sunflowerstalks]

Maybe If Remus Had a Plan in the First Place This Fic Would Have Had a Name, Too

Remus is Remus, Roman is tired, and there’s a cat, too. Expected chaos ensues.

This is my gift for Pigeon, @the-pigeon, for @sanderssidesgiftxchange! I hope you enjoy your gift, and i hope your holidays were and continue to go well! Also, happy new year!! :D

word count: 2125

rating: teen and up (for slight language/innuendo)

content warnings: slight innuendo/language typical of remus, hair pulling as a stim, descriptions of bad things happening to animals (as an intrusive thought, it is dealt with accordingly), slight anxiety attack/sensory overload moment

relationships: platonic sides (all of em) with brotherly roman&remus focus, implied/background romantic roman/virgil and romantic patton/remus but it’s pretty subtle

characters: roman, remus, virgil, patton, logan, janus, c!thomas (meaning both character!thomas and cat!thomas asfhjakfh)

additional tags: high school au, punk au, heist fic, like slight conflict and then mostly fluff and comfort. also, side note, cain and abel are the twins’ cats sdhjgdskfh

“Remus.”

“Roman.”

A beat.

“Any chance you could explain… any of this?” Roman gestures wildly to the pile of metal scraps, receipts, the feral cat, and assorted other trinkets strewn across the sidewalk in front of Remus, before crossing his arms and impatiently awaiting an answer without his usual air of, well, put-together-ness.

“Well, I’d actually gotten around to finally cleaning my wallet, when—”

“The cat, Remus! Whose cat is this? Why do you have it? Why is it surrounded by trash?” Roman’s voice increased in both volume and shrillness as he went on, hands reaching unconsciously to tug at his hair.

“Hey, don’t do that shit,” Remus tugged at the cuffed jean at Roman’s ankle for emphasis, “Anyways, like I was saying, I was cleaning my wallet when I remembered that I was like, eighty assignments behind in anatomy, so I figured I could do some cool art or somethin’ with a cat! For… extra credit or something.” Remus faltered for a moment, “In all honesty, I didn’t think I’d get this far.” He had thought getting the cat would be the hard part, so now he was stuck in the swing of success without a direction to turn. Roman, however, was still stuck on the small details (in Remus’ humble opinion).

Roman took a deep breath, muttering something that sounded a lot like a prayer for forgiveness, before looking down at his brother yet again.

“Remus.”

“Yes, brother dearest?”

“Whose cat is this?”

“Do you want the honest answer?”

Roman looked moments away from manslaughter, yet managed to nod anyways. Remus’ face broke into a shit-eating grin;

“I have no fucking clue.”

---

“Let me get this straight—”

A chorus of ‘good luck with that’s and similar sentiments echoed Logan’s statement, much to his chagrin.

“Okay. Redo.”

“You can’t just say ‘redo’ IRL, Lo,” Virgil chuckled, not even bothering to look up from his phone—he had already checked out from the drama, but stayed for the simple pleasure of experiencing the familiar banter—and in fear of being called to the dean’s office for cutting class. Mostly the latter.

“And I would argue that you cannot say ‘IRL’ in a verbal conversation, yet here we are,” Logan paused for emphasis, adjusted his necklaces for the umpteenth time, and smoothed his hands over the table again before continuing, “Regardless. The situation that you—and I mean you two,” he gestured to the twins, “there is hardly a ‘we’ fault-wise here—have gotten into, is one of... feline larceny, without a known victim? Is that correct?” Remus nodded sheepishly—or as sheepish as his wolfish features could get, all teeth and eyes—while Roman just stewed in rage. Remus’ backpack laid halfway zipped on the lab table, and every once in a while a pink nose and whiskers would find its way into the light before being shoved back by a flurry of hands, aware of what yet another detention would mean for the twins. They couldn’t all just skip, though—they learned that the hard way from the last time one of Roman and Remus’ harebrained schemes had made its way from “a slight nuisance” to “an unignorable thorn in everyone’s side that also somehow ends with arson.” So, they had some past experience in handling the, well, experience that the twins brought along with their company—but they normally had at least a lead to work with.

“How,” Janus started, massaging his temples despite only just then contributing to the wreck of a conversation that their art class had devolved into, “do you steal a cat, and not know who from?” Remus just shrugged.

“It wasn’t intentional. I needed a cat, a guy had a cat, I didn’t ask questions. Was I supposed to?” Remus asked, eyebrows drawn together—normally, he’d be a sarcastic shit that would drive the group insane on (some level of) purpose, but now he just seemed genuinely afraid—of the consequences of his own actions, but, still—progress. Logan opened his mouth to offer his advice, but was silenced by the jarring ring of the bell. He sighed. This was going to be a long day of way more stress than he was qualified for—the twins were going to owe him another stick and poke if he had any say in the matter.

---

Remus must have been a wonderful, wonderful man in his past life. He had to have been. Because, somehow, by some good grace, he managed to make it through another two classes on his own, and to lunch in one piece, with a living cat by his side—well, in his backpack, but the merit stands. Logan could honestly say he was impressed—not that he would tell him that, though. Nevertheless, the six friends reconvened at lunch—still without a direction to turn.

“I could just put him back where I found him,” Remus started, attempting to break the icy silence at the table with a jackhammer as always.

“Do you even know where that is?” Roman scoffed, incredulous.

“Well, no, but I could get close.”

“This isn’t helping,” Logan interjected, “How about you bring it to a shelter? One nearby where you found it?” The table nodded in general agreement, but Remus only frowned.

“But that isn’t where I got it from. What if it has an owner? What if the closest shelter isn’t a no-kill shelter, and we go to all the trouble of saving the cat only for the fucks at the shelter to hurt it?” Remus’ pace picked up with his heart rate—despite only having this cat for maybe six hours, if anything happened to it, Remus had a pretty good idea of what he’d end up doing.

“We can check for that, can’t we, Lo?” Patton chimed in, placing a calming, steady hand on Remus’ shoulder, which sunk, relieved, at the touch.

“Possibly. But, regardless, it isn’t Remus’ cat. Our priority is to get it back to its original owner, if it has one,” Logan pointed out, “If that isn’t possible, then we need to reevaluate our plan, come up with another, and settle for a different goal.”

“Have we at any point today even actually had a plan?” Virgil snickered, ever the pessimist—it wasn’t like he was really helping as he was, once again, staring at his phone.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve done much besides stare at your phone today, edgelord,” Remus snarked, though it came out as more of a mumble—his face was pressed into the table, and his eyes were on the cat in the bag.

“You’re gonna have to get better nicknames, Dukey, we’re all edgelords here,” Janus deadpanned, smudging an unhealthy amount of eyeshadow around his eyes while Virgil and Remus argued over their respective contributions.

“Okay, can you, my brother,” Roman pointed to Remus, whose teeth clacked with how fast he shut up, ”and you, my boyfriend,” he pointed to Virgil, who could only look the smallest bit abashed,  “calm all the way down? Stop arguing, holy shit—” Roman took another breath, relishing the silence that had fallen over the table before pushing on, “—how about we all go, together, and fix this shit? I mean, what could go wrong?”

---

The answer was a lot. A fucking lot could go wrong when six seventeen-year-olds tried to coordinate anything, let alone an amateur heist.

Remus managed to get through the rest of the school day without much incident, but the rest of them were not so lucky, managing to receive a grand total of three detentions and six failed tests from lunch to the end of seventh period between the five of them. The teens recounted the horror stories of sixth period; Patton gesturing wildly from the driver's seat, Remus sat quietly (for maybe the second time in his life) in the passenger seat, and the remaining accomplices squished together in the back seat (which would fit three people at most for any group that wasn’t them). Also in the back seat was the cat, who had been dubbed “Thomas” for the time being—he was sat in Janus’ lap, curled up around an abandoned ball of yarn that had been left under one of the seats. The car ride across town would have been incredibly tense and unbearably long without the feline, and for that, Remus was grateful—even if he still had a sinking feeling of guilt swirling in his stomach.

---

           After a surprisingly uneventful car ride (except for the stop at a drive through for a morale boost (Patton’s words) of coffees and drinks which ended, after a rather nasty pothole, with a massive stain on the roof of the car), the party settled into the waiting room at the—no-kill, Remus triple checked—animal shelter. There weren’t enough chairs, so the group made more of a pile around Thomas, some of them standing, and the others sitting both on chairs and the floor. Juxtaposed with the sterile white of the walls, they stood out like the emo cousins that they basically were. Remus bounced his leg, up, down, up, down, over and over. He kept knocking his knee against Janus’, which jostled Thomas every time he did.

“Sorry,” Remus mumbled, trying to focus on holding still.  But it itched in the back of his brain, guilt and stress and fault and all the wonderful, terrible feelings churning, over and over. The clock behind the desk was too loud, and Remus couldn’t do anything about it because they wouldn’t even have to be here if not for him. So he kept his mouth shut and tried not to cry—for all of two minutes, because that was when Janus decided that he had had enough, and shoved a ball of fur into his arms. For a moment, Remus was terrified he was going to fuck it up, hurting Thomas or himself or causing some other inevitable disaster, but Thomas just pushed his warm face into Remus’ palm, and suddenly, somehow the only thing Remus could feel was loved. He choked out a wet laugh, unable to contain the bubbling build-up of emotions that had been brewing since he first saw Thomas that morning. His friends all looked at him, concerned at first, but all they could do was coo at Remus being the softest they had ever seen him. He sniffed, and gave them all a watery smile.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Sincerity? In my brother? It’s more likely than you think!” Roman teased, poking his brother in the arm. Remus stuck his tongue out at him, and the teens devolved into familiarity, playful taunts and sincere joy, waiting to be called back for Thomas’ check up.

---

While the veterinarian had been momentarily taken aback at the request for all six visitors to be in the room during the appointment, she also hadn’t seen a reason to say no at the time. Thus, once again, like the clowns they were, they piled into the room and crowded around the table, Thomas at the heart of it all—confoundingly calm given the situation, at least to the onlookers.

The veterinarian introduced herself to each of them, and began examining the cat for any injuries, microchips, or anything out of place.

“He seems to be healthy, no broken bones or infections…” The doctor said, reaching for a handheld device, “If he’s microchipped, and I’m able to reach the owner, you boys will be off the hook, okay?” Remus cringed, but nodded—he needed to remember that Thomas wasn’t his before he got hurt. She ran the scanner over Thomas’ back, and hummed.

“I’m… actually not finding anything. You said he was lost?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Remus confessed, “I found him on the street, so he could be a stray.”

“It seems he was a very lucky one, for sure. Most cats his age are incredibly susceptible to outside bacteria—finding you guys likely saved his life.” Remus’ eyes widened, and his hand reached for Thomas almost instinctively.

“You said that he doesn’t have an owner?”

“Not that I can determine, no. Did he have a collar, any sort of identification?”

Remus shook his head.

“Well, there are two options in the meantime; we can hold on to him, and put him up for adoption through our services, or you could adopt him. He needs to be immunized and neutered, first, but where he ends up is up to you guys.” Remus thought to himself for a moment.

“Hey, Roman. How mad do you think Mom would be if we brought Cain and Abel home a new friend?”

---

The answer? Not mad enough to outweigh her happiness at Remus’ smile with Thomas in his arms. And even though he didn’t end up getting the extra credit in anatomy, Remus’ circle of best friends grew by one, so he thinks he did alright in the end.

[harringtonstudios]

space cake.

plot: being machine gun kelly’s personal assistant comes with some interesting experiences.

A/N: NON-CON DRUG USE!! this was loosely based off something irl LMAO, enjoy ;) v long oops 

please send in any prompts! 

taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​

Being Machine Gun Kelly’s personal assistant was a unique job. There wasn’t a clear line of duties, and often you would find yourself driving around aimlessly, waiting on a text from the man himself. You’d been hired a few months ago, and it had been so easy to fall into a routine with Colson. He was surprisingly cool for a talented musician, and you’d soon learned that he was looking for more of a chill vibe than the other artists you had worked for. 

In past jobs, you were required to constantly attend to any needs. With Colson, it was more of having your phone on and being in the area in case of emergencies. There were always those days where he would send you a grocery list, and then an hour later, you’d be standing in his kitchen with a mixture of vegetables making dinner. Other days, he’d send you an address, and you would pick up his weed for the week. Sometimes, he’d ask for your help with his room, but you would always grimace and he’d wave it off, knowing that his room was a disaster zone. 

A couple of times he had hit you up to just sit on his couch while he played new songs on his speakers. Those days were your favorite, because you’d both sit in silence, him blowing smoke from his joint and you sipping on whatever drink you’d created in his bar. He would always wait for the song to finish, and then look over at you and raise an eyebrow. You relished in his music, and it was easy for you to tell him any opinions you had. He’d always take them seriously, scribbling notes down. After a good music session, you always felt a little bit closer to Colson, slow electricity building in the air. But you would always remind yourself to shake it off, bringing back distance between the two of you. This was a job, and even if he couldn’t tell, you needed this and you weren’t going to risk it for just anything.

-

You were standing in line for hot dogs when your phone buzzed twice. Both messages were from Colson, the first one had a list of ingredients and the second one had an address with a few leaf emojis. You sent him back a thumbs up before ordering your food and googling the random address he sent. It was a ten minute drive from the grocery store and you climbed into your car, eating one of the best hot dogs they offered in LA.

Grabbing the ingredients Colson had sent you, you pieced together his plans for the night. He was gonna bake a cake? He wanted a shit-ton of eggs, a few tubs of frosting, and boxes of cake mix. A part of you wanted to try and see if you could bake with him, but professional boundaries existed and you needed to maintain them.

- 

A few minutes later, you knocked on the door of the other address, “Hey, here for Kells,” you said to the man standing there. He nodded over at you before walking into his house. You stayed in the doorway as he walked back up to you, giving you a large cardboard box. The box was heavy, and you huffed as you balanced it in one hand before getting in your car, driving off. 

Parking in Colson’s driveway was difficult. There were cars filling up the space, and you could already hear the music coming from inside. Sighing, you decided to open the cardboard box to try and put some of the groceries inside of it. Right off, you regretted opening it. Packets of weed stared right up at you, and your eyes widened at the amount of drugs you’d been carrying. You quickly closed it back up and stacked a few cake mix boxes on top of it. Grabbing everything in your hands, you tried to efficiently close the door, determined not to make a second trip. 

Kicking the front door open, you waddled over to the kitchen counter. It was already covered with solo cups and alcohol bottles and you grew more confused about why anyone wanted to bake in the middle of what seemed to be a party. 

“Hey, Y/N! You’re back,” Colson shouted from across the room. 

You waved him over and started moving all the empty cups into the trash. Coming up behind you, he grabbed the box over your head. 

“Fuck yeah. This is gonna be the best night ever,” he muttered as you turned around to face him. 

“What’s all this even for?” you questioned as he giddily moved around the ingredients on the counter. 

“Don’t worry about it, you’re good to leave if you wanna,” he waved it off and you side stepped as he tried to move closer to the counter. Giving him full access, you grabbed your jacket and turned around to view the scene unfolding in front of you. 

The guys were all in various states of drunk, fumbling around the living room. Slim and Rook were assembling the frosting tubs in a line and you could tell it was going to be a night full of antics. A part of you desperately wanted to stay, to play along with the guys, knock a couple of drinks back and help them bake this disaster of a cake, but messing around with your employer’s friends wasn’t going to do you any favors, so you waved goodbye and walked out for the night. 

-

Two hours later, you were sitting in a bar. Your friends had set you up on a blind date, eager to get you back on the playing field. You didn’t have time in your randomized schedule to go out and dates always made you a little uneasy. 

A few minutes later, you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Y/N? Hey, nice to meet you,” the guy reached his hand out. You shook his hand, but already could feel yourself grimacing internally. It wasn’t that this guy was unattractive, it was more like he just wasn’t your type. He was dressed in a button down and khakis at a bar, it just didn’t work for you. You braced yourself for an evening of careless small talk and grabbed your drink as he led you to a table. 

Half an hour into the date, which was as boring as you’d anticipated, your phone buzzed. At first, you reached for it, but your date threw an unkind glance, so you brushed the notification off. A few minutes later, you got a few more buzzes and then a phone call. Your date threw another look at you. You smiled sweetly before picking up the phone. 

“Y/N! I need you to come over now,” Colson shouted over the noise through the phone. You pulled it back from your ear, before bringing it back. 

“Is everything okay?” you mumbled into the phone. 

“Yeah. Nooo. We’re out of alcohol,” he whined on the other end. 

You rolled your eyes, and spared a glance at your date who was picking at his teeth. Maybe this was a good thing, an excuse to leave this terrible date. 

“Sorry, something’s come up at work and I gotta head over,” you reached for your bag. Not particularly waiting for a response, you pushed in your chair and walked out of the bar. 

-

Walking to the corner store, you purchased a few bottles of Jameson and ordered a Lyft to Colson’s house. 

People were dancing all around, and you spotted Colson sitting on his kitchen counter. There was an impressive looking cake placed next to him, covered in different colors of frosting. You placed the new bottles next to the cake. 

“Fuck yeahhhh!” Colson fist bumped you as you hid your purse under the counter. Grabbing a cup you decided to get a little more drunk tonight. Honestly, you deserved it after sitting through that hellish date. 

Rook cut the cake into pieces to much celebration and soon enough, you had a fork in your hand. Reaching over to share with Colson, he snatched his plate away. 

“Hey no, I wanted that,” you grabbed for it. 

“No cake for you,” he responded and walked away. You stuck your tongue out behind his back before taking your fork and reaching into someone else's plate. 

Taking a few bites, it hit you that the cake tasted terrible. The flavor profile was just off. Everyone still seemed to be eating it, so you brushed it off and took a couple more bites for good measure. 

-

Half an hour later, you bumped into Colson as you walked up the stairway. He looked over at you, grinning until he caught sight of your face. “Y/N? Oh fuck, did you eat the cake,” he rushed out as he grabbed hold of your wrists.

“Yeah, haha. What gave it away?” you responded as you swayed a little. He cursed under his breath before looking around at the swarm of people moving around his house.

“Is there frosting on my mouth? What,” you started as he pulled you along. Following him upstairs, you smiled at the people dancing alongside his walls. Tripping over your own feet, you snatched back your wrists from his grip. 

“Dude, where are we going?” you asked as he moved people in front of him. 

“My room,” he answered and you hadn’t been this confused in a while. Colson knew you hated going into his room. He looked a little frantic, so you brushed your disgust off and stood behind him as he pulled the key out from his pocket. 

Moving into his room, you heard the music muffle itself as the door closed. There were clothes strewn everywhere, and you could see his luggage opened in a corner, things spilling out of it. Grimacing, you kicked a couple of things aside as you walked over to his bathroom. You didn’t feel too good. 

Splashing your face with cold water, you gasped. Everything around you was looking sharper, and you felt your heartbeat rabbiting as you gripped the sink. Your mind was racing, and you tried to take a deep breath as the world tilted just a little.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” you breathed out as you closed your eyes. 

“Y/N, you okay?” Colson called out from behind the door. You looked back up in the mirror as your heart continued thudding against your chest.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled out. Your eyes looked hazy, and you touched your cheek, trying to feel your face. 

“Hey, it’s going to be fine. Open the door yeah?” you heard him say and you closed your eyes again. You couldn’t really walk, so you sat down on the floor. You shifted yourself to the door and reached up to turn the knob. He stumbled in and saw you on the floor, eyes shut. 

He sat across from you, legs crossed and you could feel his fingers run over your hands. “Hey, hey I’m here,” he murmured. 

“Colson, what’s going on?” you whispered. 

“So, um that cake you ate? It was laced. We wanted to make a space cake,” he responded and you opened your eyes. 

“A space cake, what the fuck is that,” you bit your tongue as your hands shook a little.

“Weed. A shit-ton of weed in that cake. I know you don’t smoke, it probably hit hard,” he explained.You exhaled, and took your hands out of his. Placing them on your thighs, you pushed down a little.

 “Let me get this straight, you made a cake edible, which I ate. And now I am high,” you muttered out, staring at his hands across from you. 

“Yeah, basically,” his hands twitched and you reached over for them again. Your heart seemed to relax when you could feel the weight of his fingers with yours. 

“I don’t smoke because the last time I did, I got crazy paranoid. Bad trip,” you whispered as you played with his hand. Continuing, you blurted out, “I didn’t want you to see all that.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I am really high right now,” he whispered back and you laughed a little. It did help, Colson could handle his weed better than you, but at least you weren’t the only one tripping. 

“Can I hold you,” he murmured, “you’re shaking.”

You looked up at his face and he looked so sincere. Nodding, you leaned in closer as he scooted over to where you were. You turned around, facing the wall as he wrapped his arms around you. His heartbeat was steady, calming, and you felt it against your back. 

“I didn’t want this to ever happen,” you mumbled as you stared at the chipping paint on the corner. 

“I can leave,” he started and you felt his arms move from around you. 

“No!” you shouted a little, and he paused. 

“Shit, I- okay look. I just didn’t want to get this close to you. You’re my boss and I need this job and I can’t actually like you,” you stumbled out. 

He was quiet for a beat and then he whispered, “You like me?” 

The tone in his voice was softer than you’d expected and his arms relaxed against you.

“No, never pfft. Why would I? You’re annoying and you never actually eat any fruits and you’re just terrible,” you rambled on and you could feel him laughing behind you.

“Oh, you totally have a crush on me,” he barked out between his laughs. 

“Shut up,” you felt hot all of a sudden and you closed your eyes again. 

“It’s all good. Honestly, I might like you too. There’s just something about you. It’s why I always wanna hear your thoughts on my stuff. You matter to me,” he said as he moved his thumbs over the back of your hand. 

You didn’t respond. Trying to get his words out of your head, you focused on the feeling of his thumb. After a few minutes of silence, you spoke out.

“Is there anyway I can sleep here tonight?”

“In my messy bed? I thought you hated this room,” he said, leaning his head against the back of yours. 

“It’s disgusting here. I just- I don’t wanna go back out there,” you sighed out. 

“Yeah, of course you can stay here Y/N,” and you turned around to see his grin. 

Even though you were tripping on some serious space cake, you found yourself smiling back. You’d deal with this in the morning, right now all you wanted was a warm bed and Colson Baker’s arms around you.

[snarkwrites]

12 | gangsta; sweetpea

NOTES:

It's been a while. I've had these two chapters written for a while now but I haven't had time to sit down, edit them a little better and post them. Since I have time now, I thought I'd go ahead and do that, whether you guys asked for these next two chapters or not.

Sorry this took forever! Sorry I'm so slow, I've been settling into a new house and taking care of some IRL stuff / taking a little break. I swear, I'm going to update everything sooner or later. >.>

I love you guys.

WARNINGS:

NON/ LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. ANGST & SLOW BURN, HEAVY SEXUAL TENSIONSTARTING NOW, ACTUALLY - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. VIOLENCE / SWEARING & FIGHTING, POSSIBLE UNDERAGE DRINKING AND OTHER SHENANIGANS- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…EVENTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT / A VIRGIN ORIGINAL CHARACTER- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. STALKER TW - this chapter marks the true appearance of Alyssa's ex, Dave Novak. It's hinted heavily that he's a gross asshole who likes to play mind games.

If you're under 18+, probably not a good or wise idea to continue reading this series. Because there are going to be a few dark and adult themes within. I'll warn here, of course, but you need to understand that I don't control you. If you continue to read after having read the warnings and you're upset or don't like something... Totally on you, friend.

PAIRING:

Andrews!Sibling OFC x Sweet Pea.

TAGGING:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you want to be added, the link to do so is below.

OTHER PARTS:

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN- ELEVEN - soundtrack

OTHER STUFF:

[ about my writing - tag list doc ]

T W E L V E.

[773 - 589 - 7956] attachment

[773 - 589 - 7956] I think I decided how you can repay me, scarlet…

[773 - 589 - 7956] Better enjoy your quiet and happy little life while you still have it, scarlet. Because soon it’s all going to be ripped right out of your pretty little hands.

[773 - 589 - 7956] That boyfriend of yours isn’t even gonna be able to save you this time, scarlet. You’re mine.

[773 - 589 - 7956] See you soon, scarlet.

Each new text that came in had me tensing up. Careful to keep my phone out of sight of anyone who was nearby. My heart was about to beat right out of my chest and my stomach felt like it sank to the floor. I was barely listening to anything being said around me and I guess it was more obvious than I thought because Toni cleared her throat, nodding to the phone in my hand.

Gazing at me in concern.

“Everything okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Yeah,yeah. Everything is fine.” I lied. I think at that particular point in time, I was just trying to convince myself that this was all some kind of bad dream. Or worst case scenario, Dave was making empty threats.

Toni eyed me suspiciously. I tried to give her a convincing smile, but I’d have had to be an idiot to even think for a second that she believed me. She eyed my phone and reached for it. I managed to shove it in my pocket.

“Trust me.” I pleaded. She gave me a wary look and sighed, grumbling “Fine, okay. Alright.” under her breath.

And I did my best to push the texts out of my head. Jumping in the conversation she had going on with Cheryl and Veronica. Laughing and talking as if nothing were wrong.

Lying through the skin of my teeth.

XXX

“What’s got you so jumpy?”

The question caught me off guard. I wanted to tell someone what was going on, I really did, but… I didn’t want to worry anyone, either. I was at least 99.9 percent sure that there was absolutely no way that Dave would show up in Riverdale, at least that’s what I was hoping.

I did my best to play it off. Shoveling french fries into my mouth just so I didn’t have to answer right away. My cell phone lit up and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Toni reached for it and I quickly grabbed it and shoved it in my pocket. She gave me a concerned look and I muttered quietly, “Probably just Reggie...again.”

“Reggie’s with that new girl though?” Cheryl spoke up. Gazing at me thoughtfully. My breath caught in my throat because if anyone would catch on to there being something truly wrong with me or something off in the way I was acting, it’d be her or Polly.

So far, I’d managed to fool everyone else into thinking I was alright, even my dad and my brother.

,, Dave won’t come here, it’s not worth the hassle. He’s just playing mind games. That’s all this is. Pull yourself together.” the thought came and I managed a smile, shrugging.

“You’ve been acting weird all week, now that I’m thinking about it.” Cheryl was the one who said it and she gave me an expectant look. Waiting.

“I have not.”

,, I do have one secret I can spill. Maybe if I tell them about my crush on Sweetpea…” and so that’s what I did. Sighing as I reached for the shared plate of fries between the three of us. Raking my fries through my vanilla milkshake and taking a few deep breaths to kind of collect myself, both from Dave’s harassing texts and what I was finally about to get off my chest about having feelings for Sweetpea.

“You have. Start talking.” Toni spoke up, watching me. Sizing me up. If I had to guess, I’d pin money on her sitting across the booth, trying to figure out what was up with my jumpy attitude all week.

“Okay, alright. Fine. But what I’m about to tell you two does not leave this table, okay? It.. It can’t. If Sweetpea ever found out, pretty sure he’d start avoiding me and things would get weird.”

Toni and Cheryl exchanged a look and then Toni nodded. Chewing a mouthful of fries as she muttered calmly, “Go on.”

“ I may or may not have a crush on Sweetpea.”

“Oh, you definitely have a crush on him. It’s kind of obvious.” Cheryl gave a soft teasing grin and I sighed. Dragging my hand through my hair and taking a few seconds to let her words sink in. I almost dreaded asking, but I felt like I had to given that she said it was obvious. “Oh god.. He doesn’t suspect anything.. Right?”

“Oh, he’s the only one whose oblivious. But the rest of us, we’ve known a while.” Toni teased me. Then asked calmly, “Is that all? Why’s that have you so jumpy?”

“Because I know how bad I am at hiding things, okay? I was kind of… I dunno, freaking out I guess.” I eyed her, waiting. Searching her face in the hopes that she accepted what I said and didn’t keep pushing. A few seconds passed and she laughed softly. Took a sip of her strawberry milkshake and asked with a smirk, “Are you gonna do anything about it?”

“Probably not. Every time I even think about it, I manage to talk myself right out of it. He’d laugh his ass off, okay? Besides, remember all the flirting he was doing with Josie when they had to work together during the play?” I pouted as I pointed it out.

Cheryl and Toni exchanged looks and Toni laughed. “He was doing that to make you jealous. Or that’s what I think he was doing. Either way… I think you should do something. He’s not going to and trust me… I’ve known the guy my whole life. I know him well enough to say that I know he has a thing for you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so cranky when you two first met?”

“I thought he was just naturally grumpy?”

“Oh, he is, but the way he was towards you was totally different. He’s only that grumpy when he’s trying to keep his defenses up.” Toni informed me before finishing off her shake.

The door to the diner opened and Sweetpea walked in, Fangs in tow. The two of them were laughing about something. I gave both Cheryl and Toni a pleading look and Cheryl seemed to pick up on my unspoken plea to change the subject thankfully, because she asked, “Are you going to F.P’s retirement party at the Wyrm?”

“Yeah.” I answered, finishing off my milkshake. Sweetpea flopped into the booth beside me, carelessly slinging an arm over the back of the seat. His hand brushed against my shoulder and I swear just the small brush against me felt like someone had taken a livewire and dragged it over my body real slow.

Toni smirked at me, nodding at Sweetpea while he was too busy wolfing down french fries to notice and I shook my head.

“I dare you. No… I triple dare you.. Flirt with him.” Toni gave a teasing grin as she mouthed the words to me and I swallowed hard.

She’s not playing fair. She knows I can’t turn down a dare.

I happened to glance out the window of the diner and when I thought I saw Dave standing there, leaning against a streetlamp, one hand in his pocket and a cigarette dangling between his lips, I nearly choked. This prompted Sweetpea to start hitting me on the back lightly as he laughed and looked at me in concern. “Damn cherry, are you trying to kill yourself?”

Toni’s brow raised and Sweetpea explained what happened earlier in the day, how I’d nicked myself with the scalpel in our first period class while doing a dissection. What Sweetpea didn’t know was that when it happened, it was because I thought I’d seen Dave standing outside in the parking lot, only to blink and the parking lot be empty.

I have got to stop letting his stupid mind games get to me. It’s just because he’s texting me again. It’s just because he knows how to work me up and get me all scared, he used to be good at it when we dated.

He’d never come to Riverdale. He’s just doing this to me for his own sick amusement and every single time I let him get to me, especially when I’m to a point where I’m so paranoid I’m imagining that I see him everywhere lately, it’s letting him win and that pisses me off more than anything.

I’m supposed to be stronger than that, damn it.

Toni eyed me suspiciously and I braced myself. When she didn’t bring up my skittish behavior, I relaxed a little.

I wanted to tell someone what was going on, but at the same time, why? I’m pretty sure this is just Dave, being an absolute bag of dicks.

It has to be that. It has to be.

XXX

He stood outside some podunk little diner right in the heart of town. The hazy red neon gave off a comforting and inviting warmth and he lit his cigarette, fuming in anger as he watched her sitting inside.

“I know you’re not ignoring me, scarlet. I know you’re not.” he muttered, mostly to himself as he turned the collar of his leather jacket up against the wind and started to walk towards the South Side.

Maybe it was time he paid his old buddy Eric a visit. Eric was out of prison. Eric was the one who’d told him where Alyssa was to begin with, though he didn’t realize it.

Dave chuckled and shook his head as he walked towards the shitty apartments on the opposite end of town where Eric lived. Eric owed him a few favors. He was coming to collect.

“Did you really think I was jokin when I told ya I have friends all over? That you weren’t ever gonna get away from me?” he mused to himself as he knocked on the door of a first floor slum apartment.

Eric opened the door, leaning in it lazily. Blinking at him in a daze and smirking. High fiving him as he asked him why he was in town.

Dave whipped out his phone, showing Eric a picture of Alyssa. At first he gave him some story about her running off while he was in the pen. Eric wasn’t buying it, he could see it written in the expression on his face. And that only made him angry. Eric owed him. He was here to collect the favor owed. All he wanted was for Eric to help him out on this one little thing.

Eric shook his head, chuckling in disgust. Gazing at him with a brow raised. “I think you need to leave, man. Now. You don’t want the heat this is gonna bring down on you. And I’m not about to get on a Serpent’s bad side, even if the Serpent in question is just a damn kid.”

“See, I’d like to just put this all behind me, man... but she’s the whole reason I even went to prison to begin with. Then I get out and find out not only is my girl not loyal, she’s also the one who snitched on me?” Dave eyed Eric. Getting irritated because this was not how he saw the conversation going.

“I’m telling you, you need to leave. Forget about Alyssa. I see her around all the time with some kid… Sweet Pea or Green Bean, some shit. The Serpents are not people you fuck with, man. Not around these parts.”

“You know the Serpents aren’t shit to me… Right?” Dave quipped, smirking. “I’ve got this under control. I just need you to help me out a little… C’mon, man. You owe me.”

“I don’t fucking care. I’m not helping you do whatever it is you’re here to do. What I oughta do is put a bullet in your fucking head for even thinking I’d be down for this shit. She’s a kid, man. A fucking kid... Favor or not, man… I’m on the Serpents side with this. Not yours. You need to leave.” Eric warned, giving Dave a firm glare as he folded heavily tattooed arms over his chest.

“Oh, so that’s how you’re playin, huh? Okay. Alright. All I wanna do is see her again. I’m not going to do anything. I just want to straighten things out. Get a little closure on the situation...”

Eric scoffed. “This coming from the king of overreaction. I don’t trust you.I’m breakin code of my gang by even talking to your ass. Nope. The answer is no. I’m not helping. Do whatever you have to do to me, but I’m not about to help you scare some kid. I’ve got better things to do with my time, buddy...”

Dave’s arm shot out and he pinned Eric against the door of his apartment. Smirking at him calmly. “I know you haven’t forgotten just how much your sorry ass owes me. Because that’s what this sounds like.”

“I guess that’s what it is then. Because I’ve seen what the Serpents can do. I’m not about to bring all that down on my head.” Eric stepped back inside his apartment, slamming the door in Dave’s face, leaving him to glare at the closed door and take a swing.

“Guess I’m doing this all by myself.” Dave mused as he turned and wandered down to a shitty dive bar nearby. He needed to have a few rounds. Come up with a plan.

And a little after midnight, after finding himself a few new talkative friends in some local Ghoulies, things were starting to look up for him. And he was slowly forming a plan.

Now he just had to wait. Pick his moment. Toy with her a little more.

“I’m so close I can almost touch you, scarlet. Soon… Soon you’re going to pay for running your mouth to mommy about me...” he smirked to himself as he unlocked his hotel room and stepped inside.

[littlespoonevan]

OTP Tag

I was tagged by @whaticameherefor, thank you!! <3

Let’s go chronological order with the Real otps and then add whoever else i can think of lmao. Putting some of this under a cut bc it got long!

Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale (Teen Wolf)

Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard (All For the Game)

Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Naesheim (Skam)

Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich (Shameless)

Nick Miller/Jessica Day (New Girl)

Allison Argent/Scott McCall (Teen Wolf)

Otis Milburn/Maeve Wiley (Sex Education)

David Rose/Patrick Brewer (Schitt’s Creek)

Alexis Rose/Ted Mullins (Schitt’s Creek)

Eva Mohn/Jonas Noah Vasquez

1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6?

Oh man, I mean I shipped them from the beginning but episode 5 “The Tell” was sort of my holy grail episode in terms of content for scallison and thus, when i fell in love. Also special shoutout to the scene in “Heart Monitor” when Allison holds Scott’s hand under the table and it helps keep him in control and we find out she’s his anchor. I devoted my whole heart then and there <3

2. Have you ever read a fanfic about 2?

Yes, extensively lmao

3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr screen saver?

Haha nah, i’m not really an “otp as my screensaver” sort of person.

4. If 7 were to suddenly break up today, what would your reaction be?

Well I mean everyone seems to be doing their damndest to keep them apart in the first place so i need them to actually get together first sakdjfhksa but yeah, let’s just say my response to the season 2 finale was “oh nooooooooo” which basically answers this question lol.

5. Why is 1 so important?

Ugh, because. Their dynamic was so, so good and it came out of Nowhere. Like it was one of those relationships that sort of sneaks up on you like, holy shit these two bounce off each other really well????? And the dichotomy of them shit-talking each other All The Time but then continually sacrificing themselves for one another and taking turns saving each other’s lives was so fascinating to watch. Especially as the shit-talking became decidedly more fond as the seasons went on and you realised they’d genuinely started to care for each other. We could’ve had it all and I’m still bitter lmao.

6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship?

Definitely funny but in their moments of sincerity were so incredibly sweet <3

7. Out of all the ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry?

Oooooh this is hard sakdjhsjh I mean, I ship them all because I feel like they have chemistry and each relationship is different. I think I’ll say the skam ships just bc isak/even and eva/jonas legitimately felt like real couples to me? like if you told either pairing was together irl I’d believe you, y’know? (there’s 3 or 4 others that are strong contenders though!!!)

8. Out of all your ships listed, which ship has the strongest bond?

Oof. Again, this is really hard. I’m inclined to say Ian/Mickey bc I think they have the longest history of any of the ships I’ve listed here and it just runs so deep, y’know? Like to quote mickey, they’re under each other’s skin. So in that regard, I think they’d have the strongest bond. (The same could sort of be said for andrew/neil in terms of what they’ve gone through together too though) But I feel like nick and jess have an amazing bond too in the sense that they really, really are best friends beneath everything and you can See that in the way they love each other. 

9. How many times have you read/watched the 10’s fandom?

Oh my god i have no idea. I’ve definitely rewatched all of skam once (possibly twice?) but I’ve rewatched individual clips/episodes a million times over. The morning the 8.10 kitchen scene came out i just stayed in bed for like 3 hours rewatching it over and over again askdjhcs That’s kind of the beauty of the clip format though in terms of rewatching favourite scenes :’)

10. Which ship has lasted the longest?

Okay I’m assuming this means like, stayed together the longest? In which case that goes to Ian and Mickey again, I believe (or Nick and Jess if you include the 3 year time jump)

11. How many times, if ever, has 6 broken up?

Once and I’m Still angry lmao

12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8?

Oh my god 2 lmfao i love david and patrick but i’m p sure andrew and neil were built for a zombie apocalypse sadjhasjh

13. Did 7 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason?

Mm they’ve sort of hid their feelings for each other???? Like obviously not just from each other but also from other people like Ola etc

14. Is 4 still together?

Yep and happily married :D

15. Is 10 canon?

YES. Thank you Julie Andem and Marlon Langland!!!!

16. If all 10 ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win?

Jfc. It’d be a toss up between Andrew/Neil, Stiles/Derek and Ian/Mickey

17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 5’s ship?

Yes, Schmidt did for like one ep and it was hilarious but also ended in Nick telling Jess how he feels :’))))))

18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond?

All of them tbh. I care about Otis/Maeve and Alexis/Ted slightly less but the other 8 are some forever otps 

19. Do you spend hours a day going through 3’s tumblr page?

I did back in the day for like 2 years straight lol

20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she’d break them all forever, which ship would you sink?

asdkjfhdsa ok i’m gonna say Alexis and Ted but jUST BECAUSE they already ended their relationship themselves and i’m content w the ending even if i desperately hope they’ll reunite some day down the line. The others I simply cannot compromise on 

I’m gonna tag @thisfeebleheart, @himick, @smores100 and @happyminyards

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 17 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So I did a very rough outline of everything else I want to happen in this fic and I’m gonna tentatively say we’re halfway through it; I don’t know how long any given part is until I write it, so that might be wrong, but we’ll see! I at least have an endpoint in mind, though there’s a lot of stuff in between that endpoint and now, so never fear, Duckenzies, Duckenzie aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. I listened to ODESZA’s album A Moment Apart a lot while I wrote this chapter; that’s an album about LOVE for sure, so it’s very Duckenzie (I love Boy especially, a song that is pure Cody in my eyes--as rapturously beautiful as he is). I LOVED writing about Duncan putting Kenzie’s clothes away; clothes are such a big part of my life and are so important to me and they tell such an intimate story about a person, and clothing continues to be an important theme in this fic. The framed picture of Kenzie and Madeline is based on a real photo of Billie and Carrie (@hi-ilovedamien used it in one of the Instagram edits she made for my fic). The one of Kenzie and Claire is based on the fact that Billie and Leslie are super close IRL and love to go to Disneyland together (follow their Instagrams for plenty of proof on that one), and the one of Kenzie with her father is based on on this photo of Billie and her dad Bryan Lourd. Everything Duncan picks out for Kenzie on Agent Provocateur’s website is really from them except for the rose choker: this is the white lingerie, this is the black lingerie, this is the kimono, this is the sleeping set. The rose choker is real, it just isn’t from AP, but I included it there anyway because they do have a choker section on their website. Here’s Duncan’s Givenchy sunglasses. Stoked to finally include mention of Duncan’s private plane, it’ll show up more in the future. I couldn’t find a mirror that looks quite like theirs: this is about the right size, so imagine it gilded in gold grape vines, and you get the idea. I found Duncan’s study desk, by the way. The peacock clockwork in Stapleton’s Antiques is something like this but bigger and just the peacock. Frederick isn’t an AU, he’s my character, but he definitely has some weird ancestry and a belief in the occult; he knew the mirror was magickal in nature, though he kept that mostly to himself. His story about the Vicountess isn’t quite accurate, but she was indeed a witch. Jack Rose is a real whiskey bar in DC and my friend/coworker Christina told me about it, so my including it is a nod to her because she hasn’t watched APOCALYPSE or HOUSE OF CARDS and doesn’t even know who Cody or Billie are and still listens to me talk about this fic CONSTANTLY at work and at least pretends to be interested, thanks babe, you are great. I had a lot of fun including Tyler, my Taylor Lautner AU, in this part, and based his look on this photo from when he and Billie were still dating. Here’s Claire’s dress at the bar. Here’s Nat King Cole’s THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU, a very Duckenzie song. Regarding the sex: Duncan enjoys doing what Kenzie tells him to do more than anything--any domination of her is always tinged with her needs. They’re both switchers in the bedroom (you’ve probably noticed), but Duncan does what Kenzie wants him to do, important to keep in mind--she really enjoys the ways he dominates her, so she asks for those things, but the decision is primarily hers and he follows her leads. Once you’ve been having sex for awhile, you start to notice that once in awhile, you have a really fucking great orgasm among a bunch of other pretty great orgasms, and the fucking great, lost-in-nothing-for-awhile, screaming-involuntarily-because-its-that-fucking-intense kind are the kind of orgasms Duncan and Kenzie have in this part. I hope all of y’all reading along have an orgasm like that at some point in your lives, cuz it’s always one for the books.

Duncan had watched Kenzie run away from him, down the hall to the elevators--which somehow slid open immediately, as if to mock him in his longing--and ached. My Persephone, leaving me; only to return to me later, her hair full of flowers, her skin smelling of nature, trees, the clear air, and sweet herbs. Kenzie’s eyes gazed across to him as the doors slid shut once more, and they were golden and green, her little mouth smiling, her tawny hair over her shoulder, the roundness of her thighs visible above the long black boots--he blinked, the vision of wings, the vision of her wings flashing across his eyes again, residue from the dream--it had been so vivid, so bright, and the emotion in him had been overwhelming, like a storm. And then she was gone, and he was staring at the doors, breathless with her memory. I know we can’t always be together, but god, the hole she leaves when she isn’t tucked under my arm. It’s like a raw wound. He turned from the entrance of the penthouse, letting the door swing shut behind him--not realizing his hand was at his jaw, trailing over his lips. The darkness he’d felt coiled in the pit of him in that dream rested there still, along the lining of him, with a sticky and sickeningly heavy residue--the divinity of her light in it still tingled along the edge of of his mind, the smell of her hair dancing through his fingers, and he lifted his fingers to his nose and breathed in--roses, vetiver, geranium, and the sweet muskiness that was the crook of her mouth and the space between her legs. Now she is everywhere here, he thought, satisfied, looking over at the little bowl he’d handed her an hour ago, now empty of granola and fruit and in the sink, silver spoon resting inside it, wet with the residue of milk and berries. Now there is a small gold lining in every corner of this place, painted with the finest brush, and it dazzles me.

He thought of the tears they’d shed against each other in the darkness of the room that was now their bedroom as their bodies had shuddered in release; the terror and wondrous beauty of the realization that no, I haven’t been dreaming words into her, the words and emotions and colors I’ve felt have really been coming from her, and somehow, beyond all understanding, sometimes, I can hear Kenzie’s thoughts and feel what she is feeling, and the gold I see is her soul, kissing into me with the most tender of touches, shivering down onto me like a paper-thin wave of sunlight. And god, it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever fucking felt; it’s more beautiful than anything I can see with my eyes, it’s like a boon from beyond time, and my body and soul are abject and amplified in her. The words and feelings I’ve felt towards her, from her--they feel as though I’ve pulled them from deep memories, as if I’ve begun to awaken from an ageless sleep I’ve slept for eons, and she was there at the beginning of that sleep, and now, having finally woken, she is here again, as it was always meant to be. Duncan found himself lost in these thoughts, hands trailing through his hair, as he leaned down to where he’d left his smooth black iPhone on the nightstand, idly opening the Instagram app and going to Kenzie’s profile--already I miss her face, already I want to look at it again, anyway I can. @kenzielouwho. Duncan noticed she’d now amassed over a million followers--his heart twinged with a vague worry, thinking of the man who’d gotten into the Post building yesterday, her little tear-stained face pressing into his shirt, the trembling in her body, her cheeks white, eyes haunted with shock. A million strangers and how many of them want to hurt her? His blood felt cold, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling. If only I could shield her from every hurt, always. If only I could be sure she would always be safe. The thought of Kenzie being hurt filled him with a terrible dread, a nameless emotion beyond terror, beyond despair--a sorrow that felt like a dagger plunging into his ribs and rending his body in two. But Duncan pushed the fear out of him with a stern hand, the voice of reason in his mind cutting it off. Your Kenzie is marvelously brave and as beautiful as the full moon rising on a clear night, as the stars turning in the heavens. Trust her. She can do this. She can be in this world. She has a heart made of melted gold, you’ve pressed your lips to it, and you know she is stronger than you are. With her, you will create wonders. You will move mountains.

He went to the photo she’d taken and posted the night before--the two of them in the shadowy backseat of the BMW, neon lights drifting across his cheek and her forehead, her wide eyes, framed by heavy lashes, staring out at him; his profile pressed to her, his expression serene. The longest day, the greatest love. Oh, beloved. Kenzie. Truly you are my greatest love. My only love. The One. He scrolled idly through the comments; scores of heart emojis and reaction faces and stunned, excited comments, some bitter towards her, and Duncan felt twinges of resentment around his heart at them--you don’t know her light, you can’t know, whoever you are, how dare you, as if you know her and you fucking don’t--even though he knew these emotions, sent out into the ether, were essentially useless. Most of the comments, however, seemed genuinely positive--some bordered on obsessively enamored, fervent, worshipful. #Duckenzie are forever love one said, followed by neon hearts that matched the colors falling across his and Kenzie’s faces in the photo.

I want them to adopt me followed by a long line of sobbing emojis

You are the most beautiful couple of all time, King and Queen of Earth

They’re like something from a fairy tale, I can’t even handle it asfajhdlghslgha

@DUNCANSHEPHERD PUT A RING ON IT

Shepherd Unlimited: now the most powerful company AND the most powerful couple in the world

#DUCKENZIE FOR PRESIDENT(S) SCRATCH THAT WE ARE NOW A MONARCHY

I wanna be right in the middle of that Duckenzie sandwich like fuck my bi ass up

Their energy is too powerful to even look at, I’ve gone blind

Duncan clicked through to his own profile; he’d amassed another 20k followers since the last time he looked at it, bringing him past 8 million, and he gazed down at the two photos of her that were his most recent posts, each with over 170k and 180k likes; one of Kenzie sleepily leaning against the backseat of the BMW in afternoon sunlight; the other of her gazing down happily at the succulent in the oversized tee shirt, damp hair on her shoulder. I could look at these all day, he thought. But Duncan remembered, looking up; he’d asked if he could organize her things, and she’d said yes. The thought of putting Kenzie’s little clothes in his closet thrilled him, made his head hazy, made him hard; Duncan stood, bare feet feeling the thick rug that extended far around the bed--he moved beyond it to the dark hardwood, reaching for her clothes on the hanging rack in the corner. He turned toward the doorway for a moment, eyes falling over the wall beside it; that’s where the mirror should go, he thought. The side of the bed facing it clearly; and the hook we’ll hang from the ceiling above it, the hook will be right in front of it, close, so we can fuck there, standing, her little arms extended by the soft rope and her body stretched out to me, and she can press her sweetness down onto my mouth and I can watch myself eat her, watch the pleasure in her eyes and the tremble of her body, prostrate to me there, I can watch my worship, I can see every delicate turn of her and be smitten again and again, besotted in her, angel baby…

Duncan shivered and turned back to her clothes, hands trailing along in them; the smell of her rose off them in a delicate wave, and he felt drunk on it. He carefully lifted the hangers up, taking only a few pieces at a time into the closet, gazing down at them; her beautiful little dresses, babydoll and bodycon and with flowing skirts, and long-sleeved button-downs and turtle and mock necks, low-cut blouses and high-necked form-fitting tops and v-necks and wrap tops, some with prints of flowers or celestial bodies or patterns, and some lovely dresses in white and cream and sand, but most of them in solid, earth-tone colors. He lined them beside the new things she’d bought and hung in the closet the other day; he felt greedy, wanted more there, wanted the whole closet to be full of her things so he could stare at them and smell them and drink them in; wanted her gold on everything. His eyes fell over the red dress he’d gotten her at Nancy’s shop--the one that had kindled feverish lust in him, made him press his fingers between her legs and coax her into an orgasm on his lap, and he thought of the fall of her hair and her little teeth when she smiled and laughed and the bob of her throat when she was sad, tears streaking down her cheeks, and he shivered again. She is so beautiful. It makes my heart fucking ache. He thought of her pressing kisses between his shoulders this morning; you aren’t dark, baby. You aren’t. Duncan thought of all the things he’d done at his mother’s bidding for the furtherment of Shepherd Unlimited; thought of the app that he knew was mining people’s personal information, the hidden overseas accounts, his Uncle’s attempts to unseat President Underwood; he wondered if, in this case, it was wrong to hope his Uncle’s death would come soon. If one man causes so much suffering to others, is his death truly something to mourn? Only when Bill was gone would they be able to reshape Shepherd Unlimited into something that could cease harming others and begin to aid them. We have so much, he marveled, staring at the delicate pieces of Kenzie’s wardrobe, having finished hanging everything from the rack across from his dark monochrome clothes on the other side. How can I not have seen it before, really seen it, and known that I needed to reshape the company to help the rest of the world? That’s what I’m meant to do. I see that now. Kenzie has brought not only her light across everything in my life; she’d kindled the desire in me to further that light to touch as many people as I can. The Fates have blessed us, and I think they expect us to share those blessings further. She was meant to open my heart and my eyes to everything. Kenzie’s clothing juxtaposed sharply with his; the earthy tones of her, the shadowy tones of him. Persephone comes to Hades in his dark realm and kisses sweet flowers into his mouth, bringing him back to life from his cold death-state. She kindles the latent embers of his soul; stokes them back to a burning fire in his heart.

For her. It’s all for her. All for you, Kenzie. My body and my soul.

Duncan continued to move Kenzie’s things carefully into the closet with studied reverence; he had always been neat by nature, having been raised by a meticulous mother and taught that discretion was of paramount importance, coordination and careful study the measure of one’s mettle, and he organized the clothing in the boxes according to style and function and then by color; starting with whites and moving down through the rainbow to gray and black at the end. He moved on to two other boxes that held her shoes; the strappy sandals she was wearing them they met (he cradled them affectionately), little kitten heels he knew she wore to work sometimes, suede boots in black and saddle, more heeled sandals and flat sandals and black heels with pointed toes; Duncan loved how small they were, marveled at the size of her little feet, and carefully lined them on the shelves he’d cleared for them on the opposite side of the one that had dozens of pairs of his black boots and dress shoes along it. He marveled, shyly, at her, seemingly, scores of pairs of panties (some silky, some cotton, in every color and style he could think of--brief ands bikini and lacy and thongs--and a particular box that seemed to have only comfortable boycuts, most of them with period stains, and he carefully placed those in a bottom drawer together) and the loveliness of her bras; soft and silky, their small cups sliding through his fingers. Looking at her underthings just made Duncan long to buy her more--he thought of her in lacy, flowing lingerie, a garter belt and suspenders and a lacy chiffon robe, her chestnut hair falling around her shoulders, the Tiffany moon at her throat, glittering in low light, and his mind grew hazy with the sweetness of the thought. He looked down at the little labels on one of the bras and on her panties, committing her size to memory. It’d been a long time since he’d bought lingerie for a woman (most of the romantic attachments with women in his life up until now hadn’t lasted long enough for him to do something so intimate for them)--it had been for Misha, ancient history--and Duncan vaguely hoped, thinking as he slipped on a pair of black cashmere socks, that Kenzie wouldn’t mind him picking out something so intimate for her; she was so fierce in her own stylistic preferences, after all. But now that he’d carefully looked at her wardrobe, he felt sure he knew what she would like, and what she wouldn’t. Her clothes are a little piece of her soul; the way my clothes are a little piece of mine. They tell a story about her; the story of her gold aura and her bravery and how hard she works, the way she guards herself, the trembling delicacy of her emotions, with what she wears, the lovely scent of her and the shape of her and the interest she has in nature and in colors, in space and stars and celestial images, in cuts that flatter her body and make her feel comfortable and make her feel attractive. It’s a lovely wardrobe. If I didn’t already love her, I would after I saw it this way, this closely; if I’d seen this wardrobe out of a hundred others, I feel I’d know it on sight as hers, even if I’d never met her. I don’t know I know that, but I know. Duncan looked inside some of the other boxes the movers had stacked along the wall; some had books in them, more of her little jewelry boxes (one was a little gold-embossed, mirrored tray full of tiny rings, another a Victorian-style box with bracelets inside, including the twisting one she’d worn the night he first saw her on the balcony); one had her constellation bedspread, others her beautiful little tchotchkes; her moon alarm clock, crystal towers and geodes and incense and other lovely things that felt like her and looked like her and smelled like her to him, delicate, gold-sheened: an array of tiny china birds, her moon and sun wind chimes, framed pictures of her with Madeline (Kenzie was sitting on her lap, clutching her mother’s face close, eyes turned down, and Duncan’s affection for her fell over him in a wave again), one of her with Claire at Disney World (both of them in Mickey ears holding Mickey ice cream bars, grinning with happy abandon), and another with her in a black dress, golden hair over her shoulder, and an older, balding man with a friendly smile; clearly her father. He looked over them lovingly, but didn’t presume to move them--she could put them anywhere she wanted, where she wanted them, because this space belonged to her now, too, and anything of hers was a boon to him, a bright little piece of her blessing a space that had been cold and empty of warmth to him for so long.

Duncan went out to the vast space of his open living room in the quiet daylight, stepping over to where the Bouguereau prints stretched between Dike and Nike, his arms crossed in contemplation; he’d always found them beautiful, but now they seemed unearthly in their beauty to him; each of the aspects of the cycle of the day reminded him of Kenzie now; each one was her, her turning her body under him in the shadow of the evening, her lifting her face to kiss him, her reaching across his body to put her little hands around him, the aspect of her sleeping face against the pillow. He hesitated, contemplating going into the study to look at The Youth of Bacchus, but stopped himself; something about it was tied irrevocably to her now, and he longed to look at her looking at it instead; the wondrous affectation of her eyes moving over it, entranced. I should look up the next auction at Sotheby’s, he thought. That blank wall in the bedroom...and our birthdays are soon. I want to dedicate more than the Gala to her. I want to dedicate art, all the beauty I see, and my life, to her. She deserves absolutely everything. She deserves a painting of her own, one that reminds me of her, given with all my love.

Duncan went to the low leather couch, opening his Macbook there and glancing at his emails, but not opening any of them, even though he noticed a very important message there that he’d been waiting for; from the President’s secretary, in reply to a correspondence he’d begun a few days before. He saw the first line in the preview; President Underwood has agreed to see you on Thursday. Midday is best, around 2 PM. She isn’t feeling up to talking for very long--and then it cut off. Perfect, he thought. Just need to get in the door. He went out of his email and opened a new tab, typing into the bar at the top of the screen: agentprovocateur.com. As he scrolled through the models in delicate lingerie, Duncan’s thoughts were full of Kenzie; her golden hair falling down her back, her eyes on him over her shoulder, the round rise of her ass and her gorgeous, curvy hips under his hands, the tiny hairs around the lips of her sex, the roundness of her little nipples growing hard under his fingers, her delicate collarbones, the space under her ear that fit so well into his hand, the softness of her there under his lips, her wide hazel eyes, flecks of gold and bronze whirling in their depth, framed by long eyelashes that battered into his heart when she looked at him--he felt continually swept away under her gaze, as though it took him again and again into another world, one where they were alone and undisturbed, free to look into each other for ages and contemplate the wonder of the other. My Kenzie. My heart. The half of me that was ripped away, the half of me I found again, somehow, miraculous, trembling like rain on roses, my heart whole again.

Duncan chose two full lingerie sets for her. One was in black, with intricate, criss-crossing geometric embellishments in transparent tulle along the bust and suspenders, with long, sheer black stockings. The second was sheer nude with white flowering lace embellishments and white banding, with bows on the suspenders and the front of the panties, the breasts exposed (I can’t wait to press my mouth against her there through the tulle, feel the beating of her heart under her breasts with my lips while she watches me in the mirror, tied up nice and tight), and sheer stockings. The thought of Kenzie wearing them set a bonfire in the center of him; made the back of his neck tingle, coiled heat between his thighs. Duncan went to the section titled cuffs, chokers and bodychains, his skin humming, his breath catching as his eyes fell on a thick, black buckled choker with a silver stemmed rose attached to the front of it. He imagined Kenzie wearing it, staring up at him as he tied her wrists into velvet ropes, and he felt another wave of dizzy desire wash over him. Oh, fuck, baby. My little rose; roses on the balcony, roses in the bathtub, roses here on this table that I got for you because they remind me of you, my rose. I’m going to fucking devour you. To him it seemed as though the choker had been made just for her--the better for me to adorn her in worship. He added it to the cart, imagining the look in her eyes when she opened the telltale pink box and saw it nestled between the tissue paper, and Duncan felt himself harden with a shiver. Be patient, she’d told him. He wondered when she would tie him up. Duncan looked down at the screen again, coming back from his thoughts.

He also picked out a short black silk kimono with a tying sash and flowing lace embellishments at the hem and sleeves, and a sleeping shorts-and-top set in pink satin with straps and black lace around the open neckline. As much as Duncan loved Kenzie sleeping in his graphic tees, he couldn’t help but feel she deserved something more beautiful to wear to sleep; as beautiful as she was, as delicate and fascinating. And I have my own selfish reasons, he thought, blushing unbeknownst to himself in the quiet morning light, going to the checkout and typing in his Black AmEx card number, choosing next-day shipping. She’s so fucking beautiful and I want to see her in finespun beautiful things that look like they came from heaven like she did before I carefully undress her, over and over and over, and kiss every inch of her body for as long as she’ll let me. Duncan thought of his dream of her that morning again; the wings from her back, the iridescence of the halo that hovered around her, the serene expression in her eyes, like galaxies turning in their obscure orbits; they’d been in some celestial ether, a clouded place of blushing colors, and he had knelt before her, stunned by her. The dream had felt...not like a dream, somehow, in that it was real, in that it was the past, or the future, or something that was happening somehow; something that had happened in another time, or was going to happen, or was going on in this moment in some other place. Duncan felt dizzy--the details of the dream were slipping away little by little, but he tried to grasp at the image of her in it; paint its outline onto his memory. If I can remember just that, the halo and her wings and her face looking at me with such love and concord, so much compassion for me, a dark and lowly creature. That’s enough.

Duncan leaned back from his Macbook, hitting the home button on his phone, clutched in his palm, going into his contacts absent-mindedly, thoughts still on the dream of Kenzie, and highlighting a certain name there. Frederick Stapleton. Frederick had been the most trusted antiques dealer for the Shepherd family for two decades. He’d found Duncan’s mahogany study desk (19th century--Kenzie sitting on it, naked, staring at me with velvet rope) and had been curating Annette’s personal collection for the better part of his career. He’ll know where I can find what I’m looking for. Duncan hit the call button and held the phone up to his ear. It rang four times, then a warm voice floated through.

“Stapleton Antiques.”

“Frederick, it’s Duncan Shepherd. How are you?”

“Ah, Duncan, what an unexpected surprise. I’m well--very well, actually, we recently got in several exquisite pieces from 17th century France, if you’re in the market, though I deign to part with them, honestly, they are so exceptional--”

“Frederick, thank you, no, I have a very important request.”

“I’m listening. You know I love a challenge.”

“I need a mirror. A very large standing mirror. Gilded would be ideal; something beautiful….something exceptionally beautiful. Maybe 8 or 9 feet.”

There was silence on the other side of the phone for a few moments, then a satisfied chuckle from Frederick; he was well over 80 now, but Duncan was pleased to hear the vibrancy of his voice through the phone; still full of life.

“I think I have just the thing. Can you come by today?”

“I can come right now. Thank you, Frederick, I knew I could count on you for this.”

“You, of course, were right, Mr. Shepherd.”

“Half an hour?”

“Very good, Mr. Shepherd. I think you’ll be very pleased.”

“See you then.”

Duncan hung up, standing and slipping his phone into his back pocket, fingers idly trailing through his hair, coming down to rest around his chin as he went to the closet, choosing one of the dozen pairs of Yves Wyatt black boots on the rack of his shoes towards the middle of the walk-in’s length; he turned for a moment, staring again at Kenzie’s little shoes he’d lined carefully on the opposite shelf, his gaze zeroing in on the sandals he remembered untying delicately from her feet, his lips on the red stripes they’d made on her ankles, that first press of their bodies together, whiskey making him bold in the face of her loveliness. His skin felt hot and flushed; nervous energy was sliding along it, his anticipation singing. He’d never known Frederick to be one to boast; if he said he had what Duncan described, he had it. God, I still wish my mother hadn’t insisted on fitting her today like this, though, Duncan thought with frustration, choosing a pair of Givenchy aviators from one of the adjacent shelves that held his dozen pairs of black designer sunglasses in varying styles. I wish she could come with me, if she doesn’t love it absolutely it isn’t good enough. It has to be perfect. The thought of them being able to spend the whole day together tomorrow was humming in the back of his mind, a secret thrill of joy and relief. Our first whole day together, just the two of us. Nobody to tell us where we have to be. God, I hope she likes those pieces I ordered. She’s going to look so fucking beautiful in them, I might just fucking die. Duncan thought vaguely of looking at his emails before he left, but a heightened kind of abandon was building behind his temples. It can wait. Everything can wait. Kenzie is more important than all of this, any of this. She told me she wants me to do this today while she’s gone, and her wish is my command, my duty. So emails, fuck off.

Duncan slid the aviators over his eyes, switching his phone out of his pocket to call an Uber Black, sliding his Ferragamo wallet into it instead, and left the penthouse, letting the long black door swing smoothly shut behind him, his thoughts full of her, her gold-flecked hazel eyes. Whatever you want, baby. Anything you want.

------

Duncan arrived at the antique shop about twenty minutes later--Stapleton Antiques was a stylish, squarish mid-century brick building partially hidden by two very old oaks on either side of its eaves, a well-kept secret with almost exclusively seven-figure clients. They didn’t even have a sign; you either knew what it was, or you didn’t. Duncan thanked his driver and stepped out of the Mercedes that had picked him up, the anxious energy humming along under his skin again. He glanced down at his Movado, eyes skirting over the edge of his sunglasses; it was just a little after 2 PM. He wondered idly what Kenzie was doing, how she was faring with his stern mother, how she was feeling. He pulled his phone out on the sidewalk and opened his text messages, sending one to Kenzie.

Hope everything is going okay, baby. I think I found the mirror. I’ll send you a picture in a minute when I get inside to look at it. Please tell me what you think, if it isn’t perfect, I’ll keep looking. He hit send, hesitated for a moment, then typed again.

I realized tomorrow is our first full day together without any interruptions. I was thinking we could go to the beach. What do you think? We have house in Yarmouth, around Cape Cod. We can just go for the day and fly back with the jet. It’ll be just us: just me and you. It’s supposed to be sunny and beautiful tomorrow. I just wanna hold you and kiss you in the sand.

He saw the telltale bubbles appear under his message almost immediately; Duncan marveled at the way his nerves thrilled at the prospect of her answer. All I want is to be near her, to talk to her, to listen to her speak, to read her words or look at her. Nothing else is so wonderful. Nothing.

Kenzie: WOW, baby, that sounds AMAZING! Yes!!! I didn’t realize you had a jet, though I guess I should have assumed that. That sounds so perfect, like a dream. I’m not with Annette anymore, I’m at Morgan’s studio, the designer Claire works for. Erik’s here. He’s going to help us decide what I should wear for the Gala and Morgan’s going to make it.

The bubbles appeared again, and then another text.

Your mom and I got into an argument. I mentioned you’d told me that you’re going to be co-chairman of the company when your Uncle passes away. She didn’t like that very much. I’m sorry I said something but she was trying to bait me again and I lost my temper and told her I deserve to know important things about your life. She left after that and Erik and I went on with the dress planning alone.

Of course they got into an argument, Duncan thought. You’re the one who fucking demanded Kenzie come do this fitting with you, Mom, and then you storm out. You treat her terribly and expect her to just put up with it. Not my Kenzie. He tried to quell the anger the immediately rose in him towards his mother and took a deep breath, shutting his eyes; changing Shepherd Unlimited is going to be an uphill battle the whole way. Thank whatever gods may be that I have Kenzie by my side now.

Baby, he replied, it’s okay. You DO deserve to know, you’re right. And eventually she’s going to see that too. My mother is a very stubborn person but I know she wants what’s best for me. She just needs to accept that what’s best for me is you. I’m so glad Erik is still with you. He’s trustworthy.

Duncan lowered the phone in his hand and stepped into the brick building, taking his sunglasses off and tucking them into the dip of his shirt; the musty smell of very old wood enveloped him, but the interior was meticulously clean; anything displayed in the front (chests and Tiffany lamps and crystal chandeliers) had been polished to its clearest, cleanest sheen, and Duncan’s eyes immediately fell on the gigantic golden clockwork peacock in the center of the room. This peacock had been here since he was a child; it had jeweled emerald eyes and it moved its head back and forth from its wing feathers on the hour, a chime erupting from somewhere deep inside it to mark the passage of time. The clock was very old; Russian, 18th century. Duncan had always loved it, and it had been at least two years since the last time he’d personally set foot in Stapleton’s. The sight of it immediately transported him back in time to when Frederick used to give him tiny caramel candies while he waited for his mother to look at whatever fine thing she’d asked Frederick to find. He’d stare at it for hours, the taste of the caramel in his mouth, the sight of the the golden peacock fascinating his eyes. Duncan thought of Kenzie’s gold aura; I have to bring her to see this peacock sometime, he thought. She would love it so much. And Frederick would love her. Of course he would love her. Everyone loves her. Kenzie is an angel and everything she touches turns to gold.

He stepped up to the peacock, gazing at it in his nostalgic drift (it was still right now, 2 having come and gone), and he was brought out of it by a warm voice to his right; “There you are, Duncan, come this way,” and he turned to see the back of Frederick’s head, white hair surrounding a shiny bald spot, already vanishing through the side-doorway to the back area, an area only ever seen by those who had gained the Stapleton’s trust and loyalty. Duncan glanced at the peacock one more time (Kenzie) and pushed the curtain in the doorway aside (it was heavy and red and velvet and smelled like the backstage of a theater). The back room was much dustier, and always in various states of disarray; this was where the new pieces came first and were sorted and appraised and cleaned. Frederick was in the far corner, an area comprised of mostly stacks of wooden boxes with precious cargo, still nailed shut, rolled Persian rugs, and a large antique dresser that seemed to be in the middle of being cleaned; against the wall was a very long black curtain, visibly dusty, draped over a huge squarish shape; taller than Duncan by several inches.   

“Duncan, it’s wonderful to see you again. It’s been far too long,” Frederick said. His half-moon glasses rested at the bridge of his nose; his eyes were very dark brown behind them, as if they held great depth, long secrets, tomes of ancient knowledge. Duncan had always thought so; had always felt as thought Frederick knew things that most people didn’t, spending all his time with the artifacts of lives long lived and gone on to the next plane, yet leaving the residue of those lives behind in the objects they had spent their time with. Frederick brought his wrinkled hands together, the curved silver handle of his cane resting in front of him on its four-pronged clawed feet, his white-bearded face breaking into a smile, tiny crows-feet crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“It has, Frederick. It’s nice to see the peacock again--and you. I was thinking about how you used to give me those little candies. Thank you for that.”

“You look very well, if I may say so, Mr. Shepherd.”

“I’m in love, Frederick.”

“I can tell. It’s shining out of you like a lighthouse. Quite a sight, I must say. Is this mirror--this great mirror of gilded loveliness--meant to be a gift for the one you love?”

“It is.”

“In that case, I think I really do have the right piece for you. It’s very...special.” Frederick spread his hands apart at this statement, stepping carefully, slowly, his gait stiff, using the cane with a silvery curved hook at the end, towards where the black curtain fell over the shape that leaned to the wall. “It’s quite singular, really. As the story goes, it belonged to a Viscountess in France, a few years before the start of the Revolution--1778 or ‘79, we’re not certain. Her parties, they say, were akin to how the Greeks imagined the hedonistic revelries of the Bacchanalia. Some say she worshipped Satan; others believe she was a practitioner of witchcraft, others still believe she was another kind of divine being; a Maenad, a handmaiden of Bacchus, a nymph of Dionysus, she of the wild ways. Whatever the truth--and likely she was nothing more than a woman unchained by society’s expectations of her--the mirror survived the rages of the Revolution, several sea voyages and World War II in a Belgian basement during its German occupation, among other things. The mirror, some say, will kindle the deepest desires of those who stare into it long enough--desires that transcend earthly passions, desires that touch the divine. In any case: the piece itself is truly one of a kind.”

With that, Frederick pulled carefully at the edge of the black curtain; Duncan saw a small cloud of dust lift from it as it fell away, and wondered how long the mirror had waited here along the wall for him; felt acutely, suddenly, that its wait had been for him, for them, for him and Kenzie, for the time when they found each other again, and he shivered as the curtain fell away. The mirror beneath was huge, a vast square of reflective energy; it stretched along the expanse of the wall, as long as it was tall--he stepped closer, almost involuntarily, to study its intricate details; the carvings that stretched along the framing, gold-embossed, were of the tendrils, vines, flowers and fruits of grapes; the nectar of the wine god. The mirror’s surface seemed untouched by time; it was still as clear as a pool of spring water, unblemished by the ages, and it stretched at least 8 feet long; the entirety of the room behind it illuminated in its reflection. Duncan reached out with a careful hand and ran it along the left side of the frame; the soft gold-and-bronze plating was cool and smooth under the tips of his fingers; they tingled, and he shivered. He stared at his reflection in the flawless surface; his sharp blue eyes, the stubble around his jaw, the rise of his lips, his hair falling behind his ears in soft waves. I’ve been waiting for you, the mirror whispered, in some secret, obtuse deja vu, into the center of his mind. I was preserved for the time you were together again--preserved by magick. By a strong spell that stood the test of hundreds of years. I belong to her. To the woman you love. I was always hers and I am always meant to be hers. Just like you.

“Frederick...wow,” Duncan murmured, glancing over his shoulder in the mirror’s reflection at the old man. “This is...more than I could have hoped for. It’s extraordinary. It’s...ethereal. Like it came from another world.”

“I knew it wouldn’t disappoint you. It’s been in the collecton for quite sometime--I never felt inclined to show it to anyone. I felt as though I couldn’t part with it. Until now, that is. For some reason, it feels as though it was meant to be yours all along. Isn’t that strange.”

“Can I please take a picture of it? I need to show it to her. I need to make sure it’s...it has to be perfect.”

“Certainly, Duncan. I’ll be at the front desk. Take your time.”

Frederick left, turned on his spindly silver-hooked cane as Duncan watched him through the mirror again; something in it seemed to shimmer in his gaze for a moment, as if a wave of gold passed over the surface, and Duncan was filled with a strange feeling, as if a rising tide had coursed down into his veins, swirled around his heart, pressed into the lining of his mind; as if something had fallen into place. He breathed deeply; the mirror was one of the most beautiful objects he had ever seen, and the thought of it in their bedroom, facing their bed, Kenzie’s golden hair falling around her shoulders in her reflection, her body turning in her beautiful little clothes, or naked, the softness of her skin in low light, her wrists tied tightly together and her arms extended to the ceiling, her form stretched towards it, her eyes shining out of its surface at him as he revered her body, its reflection of her a worship of her loveliness, filled him with fire. All for the worship of you, beloved. Oh, Kenzie, Mackenzie, my love.

Duncan pulled his phone out, stepping back several feet to include the entirety of the gigantic mirror in the photo; he smiled a little at his own reflection, his Givenchy sunglasses tucked over the front of his button-down, hair falling a little over his forehead, out at Kenzie, on the other side of the city, and added it to a text to her. Baby, it’s unbelievably beautiful. The picture can’t really do it justice. It seems like it was always meant to be ours. And it’s HUGE, 9 x 9 feet, he typed. He hit Send.

He looked up at it again as he waited for her reply; Duncan’s hand went to his chin involuntarily, his thoughts muddled by the beauty of this great object in front of him, his soul shaken by it. How had Frederick come upon such an extraordinary object, and how had it remained here until this very day, falling into his grasp this way? It seemed like Fate again to him; it seemed heavily destined. Duncan couldn’t imagine any other explanation. Like seeing Kenzie on that balcony among the roses, his heart struck with a longing he could not begin to fight, every sound fading and the starlight illuminating the fall of her hair, the shape of her shoulders, the jewels at her throat, and her eyes looking up at him from beneath the fall of her long lashes, stopping his heart. The mirror seemed to know him immediately, recognize the shape of him, as if it had beheld him before. As if I stood here before, in another room and another time and another place, but stood here in its gaze, and it remembers me now. He shivered again. His phone chimed, and he looked back down, tearing his eyes away from the colossal shape of it.

Kenzie: Duncan, oh my god. I can’t believe that’s even real. It’s AMAZING. It looks like it came from another world. Baby, I’m speechless.

Her echo of his own words sent a cold finger down Duncan’s spine. It really does, he typed back. I thought the same thing. It’s yours now. I can’t wait to see you, angel. I can’t wait to see your beautiful reflection in it.

Kenzie: Dunny, baby. I love you so much. Morgan made the most beautiful sketch for my dress...I can only imagine how gorgeous it’s going to be. I want it to be a surprise. Claire and I were thinking of getting a drink after we’re finished with Morgan and Erik--do you want to meet us somewhere? xxxxxxx

Duncan stared down at the X’s, his heart pounding. Dunny, baby. He thought of the day they’d planned tomorrow; the beach and sunlight and solitude, the promise of being wrapped in her arms all day, responsibilities forgotten and faraway. He thought of them finally alone in front of this mirror in their bedroom, Kenzie tied up under his hot, eager hands, thought of the lingerie he’d bought her that was soon to arrive in delicate pink boxes, and his body ached for her. Kenzie, I love you too. I can’t fucking wait to see that dress. Meet me at Jack Rose around 5?

Kenzie: That sounds good, baby. See you soon. She left the lipstick stain emoji at the end.

Duncan turned away from the mirror, his eyes lingering over its exquisite beauty for another moment, and went through the red curtain, to buy it from Frederick Stapleton.

-----

Duncan had made another purchase from Frederick before leaving the exclusive antique shop; a heavy, gilded ceiling hook made of bronze alongside a very long bronze-link chain that he now carried in a cloth bag clutched in his hand as he stepped outside. He vaguely mentioned something to Frederick about needing to hang a very heavy chandelier; if Frederick suspected it was for something else, he did not let on, just nodded and brought Duncan to an area that had dozens of antique hooks of varying sizes and styles. Duncan stepped into the car he’d called, asking the driver to take him back to the penthouse--he’d made arrangements with Frederick to have the mirror delivered within the hour, and there was still his email, unchecked today, that needed to be taken care of; not just coordinating his upcoming meeting with Claire Underwood, unbeknownst to Annette and his Uncle, but the confirmation of his Post interview with Kenzie and Ben Wilder next week. God, that mirror, his thoughts drifting away from emails, I want her to see it as soon as possible. It belongs in our bedroom. It has to be there when she gets home tonight. Frederick had given him a strange look before quoting the price to him; Duncan was still wondering what the look had meant, but he’d only asked for $100,000 for the mirror (the mirror to end all mirrors, Duncan thought); an extraordinarily low price for a piece so storied, unique, and rare. Duncan had balked at the amount--”Surely it’s worth more than that, Frederick.”

“It is.”

“Then why?”

“It’s meant to be yours.”

Duncan stared at the old man, studying him for a moment; Frederick stared back casually, decisively, as though his decision had come and gone and it was no longer something he could recant.

“This woman you love. It’s a gift for her, you said.”

“Yes. It is. She’s…” Duncan trailed off, looking away, feeling moisture gather in his eyes; words failed him, and he pressed his lips together, fighting off the wave of emotion that had crashed into him. She’s my one true love. She’s my soulmate. She’s the other half of me. The thoughts oscillated in his mind, filling him with blushing ardor. He pressed his hand to his chin, along his bottom lip, overcome.

“Mr. Shepherd. As I see it, the mirror is being returned to its owner. That’s all that can be said. All my happiness goes with it, to both of you.”

Duncan looked back up at the other man, and he nodded and smiled, because there were no more words to be said; Frederick was right. The mirror had, somehow, always been Kenzie’s; and now it would be a monument to her, an altar in her temple, a reflection of her staggering gold.

-------

“Anchaly, I need someone from maintenance to install this hook and chain in the bedroom ceiling tomorrow while Miss Stone and I are away,” Duncan said, coming up to the small man’s desk in the foyer of the high rise, setting the cloth bag carefully in front of him. “It’s for a chandelier. Oh, and I have a very large delivery arriving soon. Please allow them up into the penthouse. I’ll be at dinner with Mackenzie.”

Anchaly gave him a wry look, eyes dancing. “Of course, Mr. Shepherd. A chandelier. Lovely.” Duncan smiled at him in turn, not speaking; then, he turned and stepped to the elevators. Anchaly was very discreet, but the lobby had several other residents hanging around that afternoon--the last thing we need is someone to eavesdrop and blab to tabloids, I can just see the headline now: DUNCAN SHEPHERD AND MADELINE STONE INSTALL KINKY BONDAGE HOOK IN SEX DUNGEON. He snorted into his hand, unable to help himself, the elevator closing behind him; mercifully empty. He wondered, idly, what Kenzie’s dress looked like. With her by my side at the Gala, it’s going to be an incredibly memorable night, he thought. I hope they take a thousand pictures of her just to spite Mom. Everyone will see us together; no one will be able to deny anymore that Kenzie is meant to be in this world, that she shines brighter than anyone. That she’s a fucking goddess. Duncan came into the penthouse, tossing his sunglasses and wallet and phone onto the side-table by the front door, pressing a hand through his hair as he sat down at his Macbook on the low leather couch, fiddling with his Movado. The last of the work now; then just him and Kenzie for the rest of the night, and all of tomorrow.

-----

An hour or so later, Duncan stepped into to open space of Jack Rose’s Dining Saloon, a spacious whiskey bar with a truly impressive bar stretching the entire expanse of the space; wall to wall bottles of every shape and size, and the emphasis, of course, on whiskey. He thought of that first night again, a week ago (only a week?), when Kenzie’s little voice had said “Whiskey,” when he’d asked what she wanted from the bar and he’d gone hot and cold with the intensity of his desire for her, her fingers brushing against his when they clinked their Old Fashioneds together; when she’d agreed to go back to the penthouse with him, he thought he had to be dreaming. How has Fate smiled so on me. Duncan had often come here to have a drink alone; the bartenders knew him and most of the patrons left him alone (they were used to famous clientele), and they had the best whiskey selection in DC; his eyes scanned the long, open bar, searching for Kenzie’s telltale tawny hair or Claire’s short blonde shag. He spotted them towards the end, sitting in the high bar stools--Claire’s back was turned to him but he could see she was wearing a coral-colored summery wrap dress covered in blue, pink and gold catalina flower print, her legs crossed, a dry martini with two olives cradled in her hand, elbow resting on the back of the chair--and (my Kenzie) Kenzie was across from her, knees turned sideways in her seat towards Claire, the white stretch of her thighs visible between her mini skirt and long boots, and her hand was around a cocktail tumbler--a mint julep, from the sprigs of fresh mint he could pinpoint from this distance. Claire’s head was obscuring her face, but Duncan could see the angle of Kenzie’s chin was turned up to a man who stood a few inches from the backs of their chairs. The man was average, height-wise--shorter than me by a couple inches, I’d say, Duncan thought with a petty twinge of triumph--with shortly trimmed black hair and olive skin; he had a round, handsome, friendly face; he was physically fit and standing casually near Kenzie, a coiled, nervous energy in his stance, but with a measure of familiarity, as if they knew each other. He wore a white button-down with several of the buttons toward the top undone, exposing a measured stretch of skin along his neckline, and tailored slacks in navy blue with dark-colored plain-toe Oxford shoes. His hand was in one of his pockets, a pint glass half-full of dark beer in the other, and he was smiling at Kenzie as she spoke up at him, and something about the way he was smiling at her made a hot dagger of jealousy stab into Duncan’s temples.

Who is that.

Duncan pulled his sunglasses away from his eyes, shoving them into the dip of his short-sleeved Ferragamo shirt, pushing a hand along the side of his hair, stepping quickly to the corner where his girlfriend, her best friend, and this annoyingly charming person were huddled. Stop smiling at her, he thought at the man, a slight edge of embarrassment at the immediacy of his jealousy creeping into his mind. Something about the smile was full of warm affection; this man did know Kenzie, and this man cared about her, or else, he had cared about her--they hadn’t noticed Duncan yet and the man laughed a little at something Kenzie said...and the twinge of jealousy flared in Duncan again. He came up close enough to catch the man’s eye; they turned a little, eyes skirting between Kenzie and Duncan, expression softening with curiosity and wary recognition and vague enviousness, and Kenzie’s gaze fell on Duncan as the man stepped back a little, the small smile she’d been giving him widening as her bright hazel eyes fell into Duncan’s. Duncan’s heart twinged with immediate affection; Kenzie is so beautiful. Like a star with the rest of us orbiting around her.

“Hey baby,” Kenzie breathed, and she hopped down from the bar stool, pressing against him immediately. Duncan’s arms came around her and he couldn’t push away the possessive bloom of need that opened in him at the feeling of her hair against him and the smell of her skin and the soft incline of her lips and lashes from the bottom of his eyeline, and he leaned down to her and kissed her, open-mouthed; kiss me, Kenzie, kiss me, he thought, sheepishness at his inability to stay calm mixed in with his desirous abandon for her. She returned the deepness of his kiss for a moment and then pulled away, and he could see the blush on her cheeks at his neediness in front of the two pairs of eyes that watched them on either side; Claire with an expression of amusement (well, at least someone’s having fun, Duncan thought towards her) and the man with a skirting mixture of envious interest and awkwardness. “Hi baby,” he replied, breathless with the taste of her and the bitterness of his jealous rush. “Sorry I’m a little bit late, my car got stuck in the rush hour drift. Hey, Claire. You look lovely.”

Claire’s eyes drifted between the other man and Duncan, and she said “Hi, Duncan. Oh shucks, stop,” with a grin. She dipped the edge of her martini glass up to her mouth and took a long sip, as if to steel herself against the conversation she was about to witness. Kenzie looked between the two men for a moment and Duncan could see the blush in her cheeks deepen; she hopped back into her bar stool, facing him, clutching his arm for a moment, then held her hands out in short “ta-da” movement towards the dark-haired stranger. “Duncan, this is Tyler. Tyler Landau. Tyler--this is Duncan Shepherd.”

“Everyone knows who Duncan Shepherd is.” Tyler pulled the hand he’d had in his pocket out, holding it out to Duncan and giving him a small half-smile. Duncan grasped it, staring into the other man’s face for a moment; rather than feeling as though he disliked him, Duncan could immediately see a likability in Tyler, an affable evenness of temper. This is Kenzie’s ex, he knew in a rush, remembering the way they’d clutched each other in the shower as she told me about the man she used to love. This man. She loved him once. She lost her virginity to him. She used to kiss him, my Kenzie...she was tangled in his sheets for three years...

“Kenzie’s told me about you,” Duncan said. “A pediatrician, right?”

“Still in Residency, I’m afraid--3 years in. Not convinced it’s actually ever going to end.”

“Tyler’s here with some of his coworkers--it’s such a weird coincidence,” Kenzie murmured, her voice rushing with nervousness. She tucked a wave of hair behind her ear, pulling her mint julep up to her mouth, and Duncan felt a wave of affection for her. “He saw us come in from where they’re sitting over there and came over to say hi,” Kenzie gestured to a low table on the other end of the bar; Duncan glanced back and noticed a group of young professionals that all looked to be in their late 20’s, casual-dressy like Tyler, chatting amiably over cocktails and appetizers--a few of them met Duncan’s gaze with curious interest; he knew they recognized him. Duncan turned back. “DC feels oddly small that way sometimes,” he said. “Tyler, can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to--”

“I insist.”

He crooked a finger at the bartender, who was eyeing him knowingly--it was Murphy, the ginger-bearded head bartender, who Duncan knew of many a drunken evening. “Murphy, can I get two of the Four Roses single-barrel year-100? Two rocks for each.” “You got it, boss,” Murphy replied, briskly setting up two tulip-shaped whiskey glasses. “Nice to see ya, Duncan, it’s been a minute.” “Same to you, Murph.” Murphy passed Duncan the two glasses across the smooth marbled surface of the bar; Duncan handed him his Black AmEx, and turned with the glasses to hand one to Kenzie’s ex. You have to stay calm, he told himself. You can’t let your insecurities in. Kenzie’s with you now and she deserves your even temper. Imagine if it was Misha or Evan, and how strange you would feel.

“Thanks, man,” Tyler said, draining the rest of his beer and leaning on Kenzie’s opposite side (don’t touch her, the thought flashed through Duncan’s mind despite his attempts to quell it) to set the empty pint on the bar, reaching for the tulip glass Duncan held out. As he’d assumed from a distance, Duncan was a couple inches taller than Tyler; they had similar builds, though Tyler was vaguely stockier. “That wasn’t necessary, but I appreciate it. I don’t want to impose on your evening…”

Too late, Duncan thought. But now that you’re here, I’m fucking curious, I can’t help it.

“...it’s just been awhile since Kenzie and I saw each other, and I’dve felt weird about it if I didn’t come over to say hello.”

“Don’t apologize, I understand.” Duncan held out his glass. “Cheers.”

Tyler leaned out to clink his against the edge of Duncan’s; Kenzie and Claire made similar motions, and Duncan could see the tiny tremor in Kenzie’s hand. She’s freaking out. He swallowed a mouthful of the whiskey, savoring the warmth of it in his throat, and reached out a long hand to press it into Kenzie’s knee. She put her little fingers over the incline of his wrist, her eyes looking up into his, and he saw the trepidation hiding inside them. I don’t know if you can hear me right now baby, he thought, concentrating on the gold flecks swirling in her gaze, but if you can, be calm, okay? Everything’s okay. He seems nice. I can see why you were with him. I love you. Duncan saw Kenzie’s expression soften just a little, the stiff position of her shoulders smooth downwards. He was struck with the longing to press his fingers through her hair, touch the little star charms on her necklace; he moved closer to her, between her seat and Claire’s, his back to the bar, facing Tyler, and kept his hand there on her knee, taking another sip of the whiskey; it was flooding into his senses, and he felt his tongue loosen.

“So you and Kenzie dated for three years.”

Tyler’s eyes skirted between Duncan and Kenzie, hesitating. When Kenzie didn’t say anything, staring down into her mint julep, he replied. “Yeah, while we were at school. But it was just one of those things, huh, Kenz. There aren’t any hard feelings from me.”

“No, no--there aren’t from me either.” Kenzie’s gaze skirted between him and the her ex boyfriend (his eyes are as different from mine as one could conceive, Duncan thought, russet and warm), giving them both small smiles. Her fingers squeezed around Duncan’s hand, and he squeezed her in return, possessiveness clasping at his heart again, pushing guilt through his gut.

“I’ve seen some of the stuff about both of you in the news lately--I was pretty surprised to see Kenzie all over social media all of a sudden,” Tyler went on, shifting on his feet a little, “...how long have you two been seeing each other, anyway?”

Kenzie looked up into Duncan’s eyes as she replied. “A week.” But it feels like longer, doesn’t it, baby. It feels like we’ve always known each other. He felt her thought drift into him with a swirling, warm pressure. Yes, baby. It does.

“A week that’s felt like a month,” Claire interjected, “since twenty things have happened every day since. I can’t even believe how much I’m seeing Kenzie online now, it’s so surreal.”

“Yeah, actually, now that you mention it, Claire, I saw the two of you are a trending topic on Instagram and Twitter for, like, four days now,” Tyler said, grinning. “That must be weird for you, Kenz. Your mom always said you wanted attention until you got it, then you didn’t want it anymore.”

Duncan bristled at the familiarity of the words Madeline had spoken to him over their dinner at Busboys several days before. “Madeline’s a fucking delight,” he said, eager to be part of the conversation. I know her too, Doc. “We had dinner the other night and I was totally enamored with her.”

Kenzie looked up at him with a radiant smile bursting across her face; Duncan moved his hand from her knee to the small of her back under the slat at the back of the bar stool. Wildly, the thought of her hand clutched around his throat flashed through his mind; the way she’d straddled his lap in the BMW that night on the way back to the penthouse. You better do as I say. Duncan wondered with a flash of heat pulsing in the pit of his stomach if she’d ever commanded Tyler that way--if Tyler had melted in her hands. It wouldn’t matter who it was, he knew. Anyone would bow to her.

“Once, Madeline took Kenz and I to this weird Cirque du Soleil show in Vegas,” Tyler said, his expression the amused look of someone remembering a fond memory. “And she’d smoked some hash with us before--because it’s fucking Madeline--and then she started having a bad trip in the middle of it and started yelling about pink elephants everywhere, pink elephants staring at her with beady eyes, pink elephants with too many balloons and they made us leave--we were just standing on the sidewalk fucking howling by then, remember that, Kenz--”

Stop fucking calling her that, Duncan thought, an annoyed jab flashing through his mind again. Stop being so fucking familiar. Duncan looked down at Kenzie and noticed the amusement in her face, the giggle of remembrance around her mouth. The memory of her affection for him, he knew, and it made him ache. “Oh god,” she said, and he pressed his fingers into her a little, the ache spreading through his arm. “That day was insane. I forgot about that, I laughed so hard I fucking cried, we had to practically carry her back to the hotel.”

Duncan took another hard sip of the bourbon; it was heady and wildly heavy and it made his skull pound. He looked up at the man across from him again as she spoke--Tyler’s hand was back in his pocket, and Duncan noticed the way his dark eyes fell over Kenzie’s loveliness--the cascade of her gold hair, her little mouth grinning, her tongue slipping between her teeth, bringing her glass up to her mouth, her arm tucking under her little breasts in amusement, toying with the star necklace that dipped down there. He didn’t break up with you, Duncan realized, his heart twinging. You broke up with him. He still loves you, doesn’t he. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone loves you. I love you. I love you so much it fucking hurts.

“I need to order some fucking food,” Claire said, breaking up the amusement between Kenzie and Tyler, to Duncan’s relief. “Where did that bartender go?” Duncan turned, catching Murphy’s eye from down the bar, waving a little; Murphy came back, cocking his head towards them. “Oh, thank god,” Claire murmured. “The perks of having the famous person in your crew. Can we get the shared supper plate, please?”

“Oh, oh, I want the chicken skins too, please,” Kenzie said excitedly, and Duncan noticed she’d drained her mint julep out of nervousness; “And two more of these,” he said, pointing to Kenzie and Claire’s empty glasses. Murphy nodded, grinning; Duncan understood why, both Kenzie and Claire were lovely, their energy warm and infectious; but Kenzie’s glow was iridescent, intoxicating, throwing her brightness around this corner, pulling the eyes of the room in. Tyler watched her with eyes that couldn’t seem to hide their longing--and Duncan felt another twinge of intense jealousy towards the man who had first known her bed, who had gotten to spend so many days with her, who had a wealth of memories with her that Duncan, no matter how many memories he would build atop them, would never be privy to.

“Well, I think it’s time for me to go back to my table,” Tyler said, as if he sensed the roiling shadow of Duncan’s thoughts. “Kenzie...I wish you the best in everything, always. Duncan, thank you for the drink, I really appreciate it. Claire, it was nice to see you again.” Tyler leaned forward over Kenzie’s little face, and before she could react, he kissed her cheek quickly, eyes closing--then he lifted away from her and nodded a little at Duncan, staring at him evenly. Then he drained the last of the whiskey from the tulip glass and set it carefully on the bar, giving the three of them a little wave, and turned back to his table where his coworkers beckoned to him. Duncan watched his back retreat for a moment before turning his face down to Kenzie, who stared up at him with the same expression of concern; he leaned his mouth down to her, hand at the back of her hair, and pressed her into him, needy with relief that the other man had gone away, unable to stop the onslaught of emotion that washed over him now.

“Well, that was fun,” Claire said to them, staring innocently up at the hundreds of bottles lined along the bar, pointedly away from their passionate kiss that continued to extend. Duncan didn’t care. He’d waited all day to kiss her and then her fucking ex boyfriend had appeared and he was starving for her now.

“Baby,” Duncan whispered down into Kenzie’s ear as his mouth fell away from hers. “I missed you so fucking much today. Wait until you see it. Just wait. It’s the most beautiful--”

“Oh, Duncan,” she whispered back into him, her hands coming around his face. “Dunny, I missed you too, baby, I’m so sorry about that, I never expected him to be here--”

“Shhh, it’s fine,” Duncan kissed her again, with shuddering softness this time. “It doesn’t matter--”

“Excuse me, Prince Duncan and Princess Kenzie, but y’all are making me clutch my pearls right now,” Claire interrupted them as Murphy brought them fresh drinks, a waiter close behind with the tray of charcuterie Claire had ordered for them; Kenzie’s chicken skins in their other hand. “Can’t wait for some photos of this moment on BPF tomorrow, I’ll make sure to send them to you as your official press secretary, Kenzie.”

Kenzie gave her friend a shy gaze but clapped a little, delighted, at the food. “Oh my god, I’m so fucking hungry, I forgot to eat all day between fighting with Annette and trying to figure out the dress. Oh baby, wait till you see it--it’s going to be so wonderful--”

Duncan smiled down at her, sliding into the seat on her left, the tide of his relief riding over him with the richness of the aged whiskey he’d just drank, reaching out to the charcuterie and plucking an olive from one of the little bowls, slipping it into his mouth. He pushed his hand through the wave of her hair, skin tingling from the contact with her he’d longed for and had had to postpone. “And wait ‘till you see this mirror, baby--”

“Mirror?” Claire was eavesdropping, her eyes dancing, reaching for crackers and slivers of aged cheddar on the big plate, sipping at her second martini. “What mirror?”

“Duncan found this amazing mirror today for the penthouse--” Kenzie opened her phone and showed Claire the photo Duncan had sent her earlier. Claire goggled at it, her mouth falling open. “Holy shit, that’s incredible. All the gold, like, how big is that thing, wow, that’s fucking extravagant.” She gave Kenzie a coy look. “Wonder what you’ll do with that, hmmmm.” Duncan slipped a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his grin, but he knew Claire saw; she wiggled her eyebrows at them, mock-seductive. “Your own personal movie theater, huh?” Kenzie blushed, biting the nail of her index finger as Claire giggled at her, and Duncan was struck with the desire to pull her against him, cradle her in his arms with protective need. “Oh, by the way, Duncan, I rode in the BMW with Kenzie over here and Samuel is a fucking dream, I wanna marry him now.”

“He’s single,” Duncan said, only half-jokingly. “Somehow, impossibly.”

“He doesn’t have time to date when he’s carting your ass around all the time,” Claire retorted, and Duncan laughed a little. “Touche. He needs more vacation time.” Duncan’s eyes fell over Kenzie devouring one of the chicken skins clutched between two fingers in her little hand, then skirted behind her to where Tyler sat on the other side of the restaurant with his table of pediatric co-residents. Duncan could see the other man’s dark eyes falling back over to where they sat the end of the bar; especially over Kenzie’s gold hair, the incline of her back. Duncan brought his hand into her lap again, riding high up on her thigh; Kenzie giggled a little, swallowing; “Baby, that tickles.” She brought her lips up against his, wiping her hands carefully on her napkin before she pressed her fingers against his jaw on either side, pulling him against her. “I love you,” she whispered into his mouth, and he closed his eyes, smelling the sweetness of her perfume and the grease and the whiskey and mint on her lips, loving the scent of her and the texture. She loves me, Duncan thought with relief. How am I so lucky? She loves me, I love her, loves me, I love her, she loves me...

--------

They’d driven Claire back to her Dupont Circle apartment, about a fifteen minute walk from where Kenzie used to live. Claire was quite tipsy and Duncan had carefully helped her to her door, her arm threaded through his to keep from falling; she’d sat in the front seat with Samuel, the partition open so they could all talk together, and Duncan could tell his driver was quite taken with her; you say you wanna marry Samuel, but I think he wants to marry you, Duncan thought, watching his chauffeur and Kenzie’s best friend flirt, his hand in Kenzie’s lap. She was gazing at him with a contented, quiet look in her eyes; waiting for us to be alone, me too, baby, he thought towards her. Claire had hugged his neck (as was her way) as he deposited her at the door of her apartment; “I know you saw what I saw,” she said, leaning down to his face conspiratorially, her words slurring a little with all the gin from her martini having settled in, the sharp scent of it in his nose. “And I always suuuspected their break-up was one-sided. Tyler was giving her googly eyes, big ones. But here’s the thing, Duncan--she issin love with you. Like, I have never seen her SO happy in my whole LIFE, and I’ve known her since she was fucking up volleyball serves in high school. You’re gonna marry her. I know it.”

“Goodnight, Claire,” Duncan let go of her gently, smiling at her and nodding, and Claire stood there dazed for a moment, lost in the drift of the alcohol, then she gave him a little salute, like she was a private saluting a sergeant, and twisted the doorknob, falling inside. Duncan tried to shake the whiskey out of his head, too, the cool evening air helping a little as he walked back to the BMW; he slid back into the backseat, noticing Kenzie was already pushing the partition button, allowing them privacy from Samuel, the last obstruction to their solitude.

“Baby, I--you know I had no idea Tyler would be there--” she said in a rush, but he broke her off gently.

“Kenzie, of course. I know.”

“I could hear--I could hear you. The intensity of your thoughts. It was all around me. Like a ring of fire.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I tried to push it away, tried to bury it--”

“No...I sort of...I liked it.” Kenzie’s face came close, hovering under his chin; her mouth open, anticipating. Tonight Nat King Cole’s rich voice floated from the speakers, somewhere in the background of the golden sphere of her little body, finally so close to him: you’ll never know how slow the moments go...till I’m near to you...I see your face...in every flower...your eyes in stars above…Her eyes stared up into his (flecks of gold, bronze, dark sunset in a forest), her voice low and sweet, her breath shallow, and her other hand was falling down his chest to hover along his stomach and then at his hip, just above his crotch, the tips of her fingers brushing him with aching hesitation. “I...I liked that you were so jealous. I liked that you needed me so much, want me so much...like you were going to burst into a bonfire. Like you couldn’t bear it...like...when you wondered if I’d touched him that way--” It’s just the thought of you, the very thought of you...my love...

“Kenzie,” he breathed into her. “Touch me. Please, baby.”

She reached up so her hands fell on his jaw and in his hair, and he was pulling her against him, hands harshly clasped on her hips as the BMW drove the short distance back to the penthouse, falling into her in the dark.

“He still loves you,” he spoke between their kisses, gasping, his hands falling down the velvety feeling of her boots and back up to the bareness of her thigh, the curve of her hip and the tiny dip of her waist, his eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of her for fear she would shake his soul again with her loveliness, her otherworldliness, the taste of her enough to drive him into a state of mad emotion, threatening to make him unable to speak, the scent of her falling down into his senses, filling him up, sucking his breath away. “I could tell by the way he looked at you, baby. He wished he could go back to when you were his. I could see it.”

“Duncan, it doesn’t matter. I only love you.”

He sighed into her; Duncan felt tears prick at his eyes. Her mouth was so soft in the dark it was like the delicate petals of a flower under his lips, and his heart was swollen with the sounds she made, her tiny moans under his hands, the hum of her breathing in his ears in the shadows; he longed to breathe something into her, an admonition of passion and adoration so sincere, so entire, that it would dispel all doubt from her mind for as long as they lived--he wanted her to know the depth of his love would never fade, that he would worship her until the stars faded from the heavens and the sun burned away into darkness, but how could he? How could he find words? “I love you,” was all he could whisper, his mouth on her chin and the incline of her throat, “I love you, I love you, Kenzie--”.

The partition floated down and they broke apart, achingly, reluctantly, and he could see Kenzie’s little frame shivering with the intensity of her breathing in the dark; they hadn’t noticed the BMW had pulled up to the high-rise and had been idling, quietly, for several minutes.

“We’re home, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Samuel said quietly, his eyes skirting over their dishelvement, their harsh breathing. Ushering us on to the quiet solitude of our bed, Duncan thought with a warm, vague knowledge. He nodded at the other man. “Thank you, Samuel. We’re taking the jet to Yarmouth tomorrow, can you pick us up around 9?”

“Very good, Mr. Shepherd. Miss Mackenzie, it was a pleasure to drive you today. Anytime you want to listen to Stevie, you let me know.”

Kenzie’s little smile broke over her cheeks in the shadows; “Thank you, Samuel. It was wonderful to spend time with you today.” Duncan opened the door and slid out, reaching down for her hand, anxious for her touch again. She slipped her small fingers between his, the sound of her boots on the sidewalk clicking in his ears, the soft lights of the street lamps falling over her small frame. He pulled her gently with him, wishing in that moment that he could snap his fingers and they’d suddenly appear in the bedroom, where he knew that vast, quiet, gold monument to her was waiting. Jerry pulled the door open, nodding to them without speaking; Anchaly was away from his desk at the moment, and Duncan silently thanked the Fates (Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos)--every interaction with anyone else was a distraction from his desire to show her what he’d found for her today, the thing he’d found that was already hers. In the elevator Kenzie let go of his hand and stepped to the opposite side, and they stood there across from each other, staring, the elevator’s mirror reflecting their profiles from the corner of Duncan’s eye--Kenzie leaned her ass against the smooth gold wall, parting her legs a little, bringing her hands into the dip of her crotch, not moving her eyes away from his face. Duncan’s hands gripped the rail behind him, the tension in his body rising, his need to feel her again making him dizzy.

“How was your day today, baby?” he said quietly.

“It was...long. Good. Sort of. Your mom--god, she hates me.”

Duncan bit his lip as the elevator climbed, his eyes on the flushed shimmer of her cheeks; 22, 23, 24. “We’re going to work on it, okay? We’re going to make her see.”

Kenzie nodded at him, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth. “My dress, baby. Just wait. And Erik was lovely.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear; his heart shuddered.

“Mmhmm, he is. I can’t wait to see it, baby.” The elevator dinged, the doors sliding apart. Duncan reached for her but Kenzie--ugh, she’s so good at that, it makes me insane--slid away from him, looking at him back over her shoulder as she walked ahead of him to the penthouse door, her little teeth shining out of her mouth at him, a glint in her eyes. “Come here,” he said, needy.

“Come get me,” she replied, slipping her keycard into the slot by the door; it beeped and she swung it open, disappearing inside. Duncan groaned softly; fuck baby, I will. He fumbled with his wallet, snatching out his own key, hurriedly jamming it into the slot and yanking the door open; Kenzie had already kicked her boots off and was trotting around the corner in her little bare feet, towards the bedroom, hair shimmering. The penthouse was cool and quiet with evening; the diamond-drop chandelier reflecting the low lamps in the living room, his eyes skirting over her succulents along the sink, and he could see one of the little lamps in the bedroom had been switched on--as he followed Kenzie, kicking his own shoes off, he heard her gasp as she stopped dead, facing the wall that was obscured from this angle by the doorway. He stepped through, seeing her hands come up to her cheeks, her mouth snap shut, her eyes grow wide. He glanced to where she stared--there it was, this silent speculum of time, its carvings dipping softly in the shadows, vines, fruits and flowers, its clear reflection of them snatching his breath as he stepped up beside her. Duncan marveled for a moment at the difference in their heights--her little golden head only reaching to just below the bend of his shoulders, his hands obscuring her under his touch as he reached for her--and yet, he thought, your greatness astounds me, beloved. Your wonders are confounding to me, your secrets endless and each one more precious than any riches. She continued to stare at their reflection as his arms came around her from behind, pressing his stomach gently into her back, fingers falling around the dip of her elbows, tightening, desirous, his face falling into the crook of her neck, his eyes looking up into hers through the mondo glass that stretched before them. He shivered a little at his own gaze--a blue fire raging in the center of him, every ember of it for her, reflecting outwards.

“Duncan, this…” He felt her shudder violently under his hands, and he moved his fingers down to cup around her breasts, clutching her, longing to soothe the shaking in her limbs, pressing soft kisses against her ear.

“It’s yours, isn’t it. It belongs to you.”

Kenzie’s eyes grew clouded as he said it, puzzled, but acknowledging, lost in the confusion of her sudden knowledge that he was right.

“It’s...I know it from somewhere. Like it used to be mine. How can that be, baby? How can this be mine?”

“I don’t know, Kenzie. But I knew it too, when I saw it. I knew it was yours. I knew it was yours...I don’t fucking know, baby, in another life. I knew it.” He turned her into him, aching for her mouth--she pressed into him, impossibly small and soft and delicate, smelling of roses and the gathering desire on her skin--and Duncan’s hands pushed under the fabric of her shirt, his fingers trailing along the soft skin at her spine, the rise of her ribs.

“I feel like I’ve looked into it before.”

“I know. I do, too. I don’t know how that’s possible. When I looked into it--” Duncan moaned into her as she pushed her hand into the waistband of his clothes, her fingers sliding down to grasp at the shaft of his cock, growing hard and pressing into the fabric, straining. “--it felt like I’d looked into it before.”

“I need you, Dunny.”

“Kenzie, angel--”

“Stare at me in this mirror and fuck me. Do it, right now.”

Duncan couldn’t stop the burst of lust, like the unexpected, painful dusting of an electric current, that danced across his mind as her command fell into his ears. Yes, goddess. He gripped her arms harshly, pulling her neck roughly into his mouth, biting down on the sensitive skin there--Kenzie cried out, quickening the heat in his groin, and Duncan brought his thumb into her mouth, which had opened for him, pressing it into her little tongue forcefully. Her eyes fluttered and she sucked; “Yes, angel,” he murmured, “Suck.” He used his other hand to push at the mini skirt around her waist, yanking it down from her hips where it pooled around her ankles, exposing the silkiness of her dark underwear. Kenzie stepped out of the skirt, parting her legs against him; he slipped his hand into the waistband of her panties and pressed his fingers, demanding, into her sex, and she arched into him, moaning into his thumb still pressed to her tongue, the vibration of her throat sending lightning bolts of sensation through his body. He moved his hand out of her panties and his finger from her mouth and stepped back, willing himself with every ounce of resolve he had, and she whimpered, leaning into the emptiness where his hands had been and his heart ached terribly.

“Baby,” he breathed, reaching up to work at the buttons of his shirt, “Take off your clothes. I’ll watch you, you watch me.”

Kenzie nodded, lifting the hem of the collared shirt over her head, tossing her starry necklace on the floor, her hair falling over her bare shoulders as she let the shirt drop after it; Duncan finished the buttons of his own shirt and let it fall, fingers fumbling at his belt buckle as he watched her unhook the back of the little bra she wore, exposing her breasts, covered in the goosebumps of her arousal, and her little fingers slipped down to slide the waistband of her panties off, stepping out of them, and suddenly, she was naked in front of him, her eyes shining with anticipation of the return of his touch. Duncan watched her eyes watch him push his pants and briefs down, exposing his cock, now hard with his arousal, then her gaze slid up into his and he paused at the demand inside them. Fuck me. I command you.

He pushed into her roughly; pushed her back, her tiny body sliding against him with wild lightness; pushed her until her back and her ass fell against the cold, smooth surface of the mirror, pressed her against it, their mouths crushed together, tongues entwining, his fingers brushing up into her cunt, hard, insistent, her little fingers gripping his cock, pulling him against her, and then Duncan lifted his hand to her throat and gripped her there, turning her cheek so his mouth pressed into her ear roughly, and he said “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, so turn around and put your hands on the mirror.”

“Uh huh, baby, yes,” Kenzie whimpered, and he loosened the harsh grip of his fingers so she turned her body toward the mirror, pressing the palms of her hands into the smooth glass, leaning so her ass lifted towards his groin, her hair falling down over her shoulders and back, lifting her gaze to stare at him in the reflection. Duncan returned her gaze in the mirror as he gathered her hair in his fist, twisting it once around his hand, drunk with the reflection of their bodies hovering together, and her head jerked back a little, a moan falling from her little mouth, her eyes fluttering. “Unng, baby, yes,” she mewled, lifting her hips back towards his erection, and he was struck with another hot wave of need at the sound she had made, wanton and supplicant to him. Then, he pushed his cock, hard and sudden, down into her, and she let out a cry that shook hot drops of avid thirst down his spine. Duncan pulled harshly at her hair (your beautiful hair, your golden hair baby, in my fist, all mine) and plunged in and out of her warmth, and Kenzie cried out again and again, his moans falling into her--her eyes closed and Duncan jerked her head back a little, demanding. “Look at me, Kenzie.” Her eyes snapped open to him; the green hue was deeply present, shining out at him, ethereal and haunting. “That’s right. Look at me.”

“Uhh, baby,” she moaned, and he slipped his palm under her chin and brought her head back and kissed her, hard, his lips bruising into hers, his fist still around her hair, his cock buried in her; then he looked up at the reflection of her, tip-toed, mouth open, eyes turned up to him, breasts shivering, palms flat on the mirrored glass, her body bent into him. “Down, baby,” he said, letting go of her hair to carefully ease her onto her knees with him by her hips, her hands sliding slowly down the mirror’s surface until both of them were kneeling in front of it. He pulled back on her hips, moving slow, still buried inside her, and Kenzie’s hands fell to the floor, to the dark wood between the rug and the edge of the mirror. Duncan brought his hand up around her neck again, looking into her eyes in the mirror; “I love holding you here,” he murmured to her, fingers clenching on her throat, and rebounded his efforts at pounding his length into the warm dip of her cunt, pressing her legs outward, demandingly, with his thighs until she was trembling, prostrate, spread, her tiny body crushed into his and totally at his mercy, her mouth trembling up at him in the glass, her cheeks flushed with need. Duncan slipped his index and middle fingers deep into his mouth, slicking them with spit, then pressed them down into her ass, working them harshly back and forth as he fucked her, his concentration smooth and unbroken and utterly demanding of her; Kenzie spasmed and her mouth widened and her eyes rolled back into her head, and a long bead of drool ran from the corner of her mouth, glittering in the reflection, her senses abandoned in the forceful movement of his fingers inside her.

“Look at us,” Duncan commanded her, and Kenzie’s eyes widened from her desirous haze as he continued to work at her cunt with his cock (so hard, I’m so fucking hard baby, so hard for you, filling you up like this, god you feel good, like I’m meant to be inside you always) and her tight asshole with his long fingers, her shivering body totally at his beholden to him, supple under his insistence, “look at us fuck, baby, watch me fuck you like this--”

“Duncan, unnngh,” Kenzie murmured, “I want you to fuck my ass, baby,” and Duncan’s eyes rolled back at that, rolled back with the rocking burst of fervor her words kindled in him. He could see the glistening trail at her chin where she’d drooled and he wanted to reach out and wipe it away, but didn’t; a secret gift for him, her supplication, her abandon for him.

He pulled out of her and she whined, piteously. “Stay there. Do not move, angel,” he said, and Kenzie froze, eyes staring into him from her reflection. He pushed himself up, his achingly hard erection illuminated in the mirror’s watchful, long eye, and went into the bathroom where he knew Kenzie’s jar of coconut oil was sitting on the counter beside the squarish shape of her perfume. He eased a hand along his cock as he did, slick with the wet of the inside of her vulva, concentrating on it, bringing the jar back out with him to where he saw her still kneeling obediently in front of the mirror, her ass shivering almost imperceptibly from the memory of him pounding against her a moment before, the memory of his fingers, her legs still achingly spread. He stood there over her for a moment, gazing into her eyes in the mirror’s reflection again; this fucking mirror is something extraordinary, he thought, where did it even come from, and it’s going to be in our room always now, fuck, it’ll make me hard every time I look at it, seeing you in it makes me want to die in your eyes, baby, and Kenzie was nodding at him, her mouth open again; she’d heard him. “Yes, baby, yes,” Kenzie said, “Yes, it makes me so fucking wet for you, baby, fuck me again. Fuck me. Do as I say.”

He knelt again, obediently, unscrewing the lid on the oil, plunging his fingers into it and rubbing his hands together; the feeling of it was achingly cool and slippery, the bittersweet smell of it drifting into his nose, and he slathered it along his length so his cock shone in the low light; then he rewet his hands with more of it, rubbing it harshly into the lining of Kenzie’s vulva, up into her ass again as he pressed his fingers into her until she was soaking wet with it and glistening under his hand, and she bucked back into his touch, moaning again, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, her fingernails scraping along the dark wood in front of her, the dark green and gold of her eyes staring into his of blue fire embers. Beloved.

‘Fuck my ass, baby,” she said, letting her little mouth hang open as the words fell from her lips, and in her eyes he saw both the command and the subservience of her desire; saw that she demanded it of him, but also saw her acquiescence; her complete adoration, the adjuration of her love, and the fire of her need to bring him pleasure. I would do anything she told me to do, I would die for her or kill for her, but she would do anything for me, too, she will prostrate herself to me, and be happy to do it, and command me to command her and will obey me when she wants to because it gives her pleasure to do it, and I will obey her in all things, command her to her liking and for her joy, and he knew this utterly.

Duncan let his cock hover over the tight pucker of her ass for a moment more, pulling his fingers out, and they shivered against each other, eyes locked, their thoughts cascading against each other: My Persephone, give yourself to me, your Hades, give me your flowers and your heart and your body and your soul, and I am lost to you forever, for all of time, I am yours now and always, yours alone, I am lost in you, I am yours, body and soul. Then he pushed into her, shockwaves coursing through him at her tightness around his length and they both moaned, overcome with it. Kenzie whimpered with the combined adulation of intense pleasure and low pain, moving her hips under his hands, pushing him further in, almost subconsciously; wanting more from him; wanting him to fuck her deeper, immediately. Duncan moved into her, carefully; he looked up to see both their mouths hung open, lost in the sensation of him inside her this way, their eyes glossy with yearning. “I’m gonna fuck you harder now, angel,” he heard his voice say, low with promise, and Kenzie nodded and let out a little sound that was some combination of a sigh and a moan, words beyond her in this moment. He moved his hips, building up a stronger rhythm-- and he saw Kenzie’s tongue loll out of her mouth as he did, her senses overcome, saw a line of moisture drip down from her vulva onto the carpet in the mirror’s reflection where her cunt pulsed, empty of him but still hungry and building on its desirous need with the wild sensation of his long, aching hardness burying itself in her tight asshole, spreading her to the breaking point.

“Unnng, baby, you’re so big,” she whimpered, and he eased his hands down her back, his fingers coming over her hip to rub into her soaking clit, his other hand coming up to clutch the back of her head, golden hairs tangled in his fingers. “You’re so fucking big, baby, you’re filling me up to the edge, I can’t--I can’t--” She bucked into him again, his cock sliding down into her ass almost to the shaft, and Duncan wondered how long he could hold on, not very fucking long, baby, I don’t think I can, and saw his tongue flick out and lick his lips as she watched him, his need for her overwhelming.

“Kenzie, baby, you’re so tight, angel, you feel so fucking amazing, your little ass around my cock like this, fuck--”

“Go on, baby, fuck me good,” Kenzie smiled a little at that, her head turned up to him, and Duncan was struck with her beauty again, the gold coil of his orgasm falling down through his body bit by bit, struck with the intensity of his love for her, struck by her nature, her spirit, so staggeringly exquisite. “Fuck me good and make me come for you, I’m so close and I wanna come while I stare into your eyes in this gorgeous fucking mirror, baby--” and his fingers pressed down with more insistence into her clit, adoring the sound of her voice, his hair falling over his forehead in his reflection, a moan escaping his lips, his throat bobbing in need, then Kenzie was crying out and shaking violently into him, overcome with his length buried in the wild sensitivity of her ass, her orgasm swooping down onto them like an unseen predator, its hungry jaws closing around her and he held her under a strong, careful grip and watched another long line of moisture drip down from her shivering cunt to the carpet from her reflection in the mirror, her release falling, her voice bleeding into a shriek tinged with a sob as she lost herself in the intensity of her climax, and Duncan felt his eyes roll back as his orgasm rushed forward--”I’m gonna come, Kenzie--is it okay--” and Kenzie was murmuring “Yes, baby, fucking yes, come in my ass, Duncan, baby--” and he did, the heat of it bursting out of him into the wetness of her in a stream he could feel with sharp, scalding clarity, all his need and desire pouring out of him into her, his shudders long and low and prickling along his mind with insane euphoria, and inside the intensity of the orgasm was a darkly powerful energy that was rare--it seemed to coax every droplet out of him, burying itself inside her, needy to belong to her, desperate to be a part of her. All this time they stared at each other; Kenzie’s eyes full of whirling drops of gold, his strangely bright, lit from behind with a blue brazier, and Duncan felt again that he could see the gold ring of her halo, see the delicate outline of her soul, her nature, her spirit, so brilliant and so beautiful and so erotic and heavy in his hands that he felt faint with its weight. Their orgasms drifted out into quietness--their bodies heaved into each other, then shivered into long, overwhelmed breaths, then shuddered down into small, even sighs, and all that time, he stared into his Kenzie, and she stared back into him, the mirror like a bridge between the deepest parts of both of them, like a window into who they were in another world, a divine world full of unspeakable beauty, a place where they were together, also, and exalted in delights far beyond those of earth.

Then the spell seemed to dissipate, and Duncan and Kenzie fell back to solid ground, back into themselves; Duncan crashed back into his own psyche, and he eased himself out of her, wincing a little at how sensitive his cock felt now, wincing at the redness he’d left on her skin; turned her carefully, with terrible gentleness, laying her down, easing himself onto the rug beside her, propping himself up with one long arm as his hand fell along her cheek and her head lay down against the carpet, eyes staring up at him, languid, hazy, her little arms tucked into her stomach, hands falling down between her legs to probe gently at the ache of his worship. Duncan brought his trembling mouth down to her nipple and sucked at it, just for a moment, hand on her hip; then he moved back to gaze at her again. “Kenzie, are you okay?”

She sighed, and her smile sent bursts of gold dust around his heart. “Oh, Duncan. Yes. I feel so good, baby. I could die right here, I feel so fucking good.”

His own smile fell against the shape of her. “Take a shower with me, okay, baby?” he pleaded. Kenzie nodded, sighing again, and Duncan paused for a moment, then pushed himself up, gripping her gently under her arms, lifting her as if she were just a doll; Kenzie weakly brought herself up into his grasp on the balls of her feet, and Duncan steadied her as she stood, wobbly, against him, her tiny body folded into his arms as he pressed kisses into her forehead against her hairline, into the sweet scent of her hair.

In the shower Duncan pressed his hands softly into her, sponging sweet-smelling jasmine soap down her back, soothing the ache of him from her body, his face pressed into the soaking fall of her hair, pushing it gently aside with worshipping hands, rubbing softly at her neck, between her shoulder blades. Kenzie was quiet, and Duncan knew she didn’t want to speak right now, innately; her mind was full of dazzling bursts of gold light, and it was all he could see of her in this moment, and he felt her joy, the effervescence of her happiness, the intensity of her affection, overwhelming her. “I can’t wait to hold you on the beach all day tomorrow, baby,” he whispered into her ear, bringing the soft sponge around to the front of her body, pressing it first with aching gentleness down between her legs and then around his cock, now limp with release, and Kenzie sighed into his neck and nodded, still not saying anything, but Duncan knew she felt the same way, felt her gold emotions pressing into his skin, blessing him.

As they folded against each other (naked tonight, damp hair against the black pillows, her arms tucked into his chest, their feet touching, in their bed) Duncan felt himself drift away almost immediately in sleep, the darkness falling all around them, and he knew Kenzie was drifting away too, could feel the soft settling of her body against him, the sweet smell of her skin filling his senses, only the moon’s waxing eye falling down on them--and he didn’t know it, but that night both he and Kenzie dreamed about being together in that other place, that place of exalted delights far beyond those of earth, though in the morning, neither of them remembered.

[chainsawb0y]

hi sorry for not really doing much lately ive been kinda super out of it but when am i not anymore 

more venty stuff under the readmore tldr: shit sucks and im decorating my house and i hate myself the usual affairs if you read it all the way through i commend you for your dedication for wanting to know why im bummed out rn. this is basically like a long rambling thing that i kept adding shit to in random places

tw: dysphoria

i keep thinking about things and just feeling generally kinda bad about lots of shit and like it swings a lot from me feeling like happy and then just being totally fucking miserable at random all the time. i dont know what it is but its annoying the shit out of me. i feel like im ok like 10% of the time and then the other 60% is me feeling like shit and 30% trying to recover from feeling like shit 

ive been decorating my house too and thats been shit tbh my housemate gets stressed out and then takes it out on me but i cant afford to go anywhere else and id rather be dead than live with my mother and i just dont want to live in the city where my dad is

i want to do more stuff creatively this year but every time i pick up the pen i just think of my long term ambitions and realise this website isnt exactly the best for it anymore, but theres nowhere else i feel comfortable posting it anymore. i keep doubting myself and my work and when i draw certain characters i get anxious im going to be accused of ripping other people off. i know it wont happen, but i just have horrible anxiety when it comes to these things. i want to work but i feel like nobody takes me seriously as an artist or a comedian. i know where a lot of my self doubt/anxiety comes from but its just upsetting because i have so much stuff in my head that i cant even bring myself to do because i just dont see the point of it. i know it’ll get no attention at all whatsoever apart from roughly 2 likes, 3 reblogs and then at least 5 self reblogs from me desperately trying to get someone to see something i spent so long on. i dont do art for myself, i do it for other people to see the cool stuff i made up to entertain people and i like to make people happy and i just get upset constantly feeling like nobody is seeing anything because this hellsite is going down the shitter and people are jumping off like old people from a sinking ship. slow and fucking painfully because of the fucking bots everywhere

im like, constantly bitching about gender and sexuality shit but like.......... i always feel like im never gonna have anyone really love me. . like. people like me. people know who i am. nobody knows me. nobody gets me. i know thats bullshit lone wolf talk but like im not even kidding tbh.  im so massively fucking lonely it hurts it just fucking hurts so much i just fucking miss feeling like someone actually cares about me . i feel like i have no friends sometimes. like, i have online friends who i love with all my heart but i just dont feel like i have people in real life i can really talk to about deep personal shit. i dont feel close to people irl anymore and i cant understand why. i feel like this is cause of some bad shit thats happened in the past and its just made my brain turn off the “trust people” switch. my brains gone from “everyone is friend” to “everyone is person and people scare and upset me so i cant engage properly because i dont know what they will do. must keep some kind of distance, put on some kind of persona or something and be nice” i dont know what that persona is but im sure as fuck not able to look into it without being some kind of horrible mess. i dont know if im nice or not. i dont know who the fuck i am and it freaks me out because im sure i have some kind of horrible thing deep inside me that i have to cover up by being overly nice and sweet and an actual doormat .. most of the times the conversations i have with real people always have some kind of sex talk in them at one point and i dont have the heart to tell people it makes me uncomfy. i want to talk to people again and i want to go out more, but i just dont know how to get myself outside with people without feeling massively anxious or just feeling like nobody wants me around. like i feel like nobody ever really thinks about me in the least selfish sense. i know it sounds weird and narcissistic but i never get messages off people. i try to interact with people. i want to be friends with people but i just dont feel like i fit in anywhere and i really wish i did. i wish i felt like i could anyway. every time i go out i just feel like i dont belong anywhere with anyone and i thought i did for a little while but then i just couldn’t afford to go out anymore and it just went away immediately. i dont know why but sometimes i get really overloaded by people really quickly but when im outside i find it really easy. i just wish it was easier to talk to people about things. its like whenever i talk to anyone i immediately worry that im being weird or dumb talking about specific aniamtion things or stuff i can actually contribute to but everyone else is always talking about politics or sex so like.... i cant contribute ever cause most of the time its sex stuff or devolves into sex stuff and i just ?????? cant

also dysphorias back whee i hate having a chest it makes me so mad that i cant wear nice things because im constantly paranoid people will see my chest and assume im a girl. i hate people see my face and assume im a girl. i would rather see myself slowly rot away than take female hormones to solve my hormone issues because i dont want to lose what little i had that makes me look a little bit masculine and i know it sounds fucking idiotic but oh my god im so sick of looking and sounding like a girl!!!!!!!! i hate being called miss !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i hate that my mother wont even call me ash !!!!!!!!!! 2/3 of my family members refuse to think im not a girl and i want to die bc of it !!!!!!!!!!!

im just fuckin trying to deal with all this stupid fucking shit and i keep getting appointments for help cancelled and pushed back and i need help but i never get it !! : ))) the only help i managed to get just ended up talking about fucking specifically sex shit and it made me so uncomfortable i never went back !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! even tho its literally the only place i can go for trans/ace specific help !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[r-u-reddie]

for the record (chapter 1)

summary: Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie despise each other, it’s just too bad that they’re anonymously best pals on tumblr. This is gonna be good…

read on ao3

chapter 2

notes: i’m so excited to be writing my first chaptered fic! this fic is going to have four chapters, so if you would like to be tagged, send me an ask! huge thanks to Dee, my amazing beta! follow her @losvcr

also, if you have anything that you made that was inspired by the fic or have a review for it, (i would actually cry) tag it with #you’ve got mail eds!

7 Months Ago…

It was a well-known fact that Eddie Kaspbrak had always been anxious. It was in his nature, and his obsessive compulsive disorder absolutely did not help his case. Because of his upbringing, he was very tidy and frankly, a little high-strung. He liked to keep everything in order and was very precise.

Now, you can imagine how a person of his nature would react when a loud and boisterous record shop moved in next door to his picturesque plant nursery.

To give you a hint, it was not pleasant.

If they don’t turn down that music in five seconds, someone’s face is going to get kicked to the back of their skull.

Making up his mind, Eddie quickly spritzed his bonsai trees with some water before he stormed out the shop door, heading into the god forsaken vinyl shop where he was prepared to beg for a little peace and quiet.

Eddie had never really taken a good look at For The Record before that moment, and he took a moment to make his critiques.

It was a rather small shop, but what it lacked in color, it made up in copious amounts of vibrant decor. The walls were filled to the brim with random vintage artifacts and every shelf had a bizarre knick-knack to accompany the vinyls. The shop had no color scheme and the only thing that was semi-organized were the records themselves, sorted into genres. Eddie made note of the abundant Classic Rock section. In short, the record shop made Eddie’s hands twitch.

After Eddie finished his observations, he immediately went to the counter, where an unusually tall, messy-haired boy sat reading a magazine. Once again, Eddie noticed that a peculiar novelty was at the register (an arrangement of red balloons).

The cashier had a full head of dark curls and sharp cheekbones. As he flipped through the magazine, the boy bit at his lip. He is really cute. Eddie thought this absentmindedly as he made his way to the counter, where he stood in front of the boy with his hand on his hip until the cashier looked up. When the boy saw Eddie, he looked slightly stumped for a second until he regained his composure.

“Hey there, gorgeous, what can I do for you on this lovely afternoon?” The cashier quipped with a poorly executed southern accent.

Eddies cheeks burned at the nickname as he spat, “Your music that you’re playing outside is way too loud. I can barely hear myself think inside the shop.”

“And wouldn’t that be a shame.” The boy said as he rested his head in his hands. Then, he sprung upright as he snapped his fingers. “Hey, hey, hey! You’re Eddie, the owner of that flower shop that’s next door, aren’t you? I’m Richie Tozier, proud owner of For The Record, at your service,” He finished with a salute.

Maybe what Eddie said next was a little harsh, but in his defense, the thirteen year old customer he previously had to deal with that day had put him in a mood. And he was hungry.

“Hold up. First of all, it’s a plant nursery not a flower shop! Second, maybe if you turned your god damn music down, you would have the brain cells to notice that.”

Richie’s grin dropped off of his face. “Dude, listen. I didn’t mean to upset you, but you’re being a total dick right now.”

Excuse you?

“I’m being the dick? Just turn down your fucking music, okay? I don’t have time to deal with this shit right now.” Eddie complained with a huff. Eddie noticed that after he said that, Richie’s playful demeanor was completely gone.

Ok, maybe that was pretty harsh.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to get your lace panties in a twist, princess.” Richie said with a cold smirk.

Oh, fuck him.

That was the last straw, and Eddie stormed out of the obnoxious vinyl store. He was not about to deal with some homophobic jackass who was so worried about his fragile masculinity, that he had to insult the obviously gay guy by calling him a princess.

Once Eddie was back in the nursery, he frantically started to clean the already pristine counter and once it was absolutely spotless, he began to scrub at his hands in the sink behind the counter.

He heard the music next door go so loud he could feel the bass vibrating the floor in Eddie’s nursery.

Fuck. Him.

Now, 7 months later…

Eddie was on tumblr, looking at some cute outfit ideas, when he received a tumblr notification from from trashymouthrt. Eddie grinned as he clicked on the notification and was brought to trashymouthrt‘s latest private message to Eddie

.

trashymouthrt:

alright hear me out: pizza flavored beer

it would be a hit, right?

Eddie chuckled to himself as he typed out his reply.

nervous-plants:

that sounds disgusting

The reply from trashymouthrt was instantaneous.

trashymouthrt:

or insanely good

nervous-plants:

i think you’re insane

trashymouthrt:

love you too hun

i kinda wish i knew your actual name

and your face

and you irl

Dread began to curl in Eddie’s stomach.

nervous-plants:

but it takes away the anonymity!!!

trashymouthrt:

you’re the worst.

nervous-plants:

i know <3

if it makes u feel any better, i kinda want to know you irl too

trashymouthrt:

maybe our fates will collide someday and we’ll meet somewhere unexpectedly and i would automatically know it was you because i just know your aura so well

nervous-plants:

you’re a nerd.

trashymouthrt:

shut up

oh shit i gtg see ya later sunshine

nervous-plants:

bye trash mouth

Eddie got off of his computer with a sigh. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet trash mouth, one of his few good friends, but there were way too many risks, and he didn’t want to ruin one of the few good things about his day, especially when Richie Tozier was constantly around and pissing him off.

All of a sudden, he heard the bell above the door ring and someone yelp.

Speak of the devil.

Richie Tozier skidded around the pastel blue shelf of lavender and rosemary, and came to a stop in front of Eddie.

“What the hell do you want, Tozier?” Eddie asked, arms crossed.

“Did you fucking take my sign?” Richie questioned as he looked down at Eddie, which made him feel smaller than his 5’4 self already was. “No, why the hell would I take your sign?!” Eddie retorted.

“Because you harbor a deep, burning hatred for me?”

“Well, you have a point.” Eddie pretended to ponder, “But, I swear on my life, I didn’t take your sign. Everything you have as decor in your shop is ugly, so why would I want anything with your stamp of approval?”

“Maybe so you can spruce up your fairy den with my excellent taste?”

“My nursery is not a fairy den!” Eddie faltered a little as he took a look around his shop, second guessing the pastel colors and fairy lights that hung from the ceiling.

Richie raised an eyebrow.

“Just get the hell out, Tozier!”

“I always savor these moments we have together, Eddie Bear.” Richie remarked while walking out.

Eddie chucked his pink pen at his back, and decided to reevaluate his life choices.

At least trashymouthrt brought him some peace in all of this chaos.

read chapter 2

you’ve got mail eds! masterpost

wowowow chapter one is done! let me know if you want to be tagged! 

[resmarted]

here i am again, smashing the crystal vases and good china, ravaging the beautiful dining room and chucking antiques across the room. i want to be done here, i want to be done here! i want to move on, but to what? i can’t remember how to even be a person, i can’t find the light and this tunnel is so dark and endless, we don’t even have headlights to guide us. i came here to bring you on a date in the stylings of nineties classic it takes two starring kirstie alley and the olsens, except instead of mka we are switching them out for young taylor swifts, that’s right two of them, which is all i could think about the entire time i rewatched it again. so here goes nothing, we open on a street corner in philly because this is our version and the ahhccents are gonna be mewr sewth philly than ahhhnything. taylor swift number one, let’s call her taytay the scrappy orphan that has self-professed lousy english like aintcha gonna wanna git ewta here before they catcha? nobody even blinks and in pigtails and a worn out backwards baseball cap on her head, this ten year old who is probably played by an eight year old swift bc coming from a fellow tall person we just sprout from the crib it’s nuts, i’ve always looked older than i was from being tall. so eight year old swift is playing ten year old scrappy orphan taytay who is always chewing gum and has a baseball bat as kirstie alley (YOU.) look out the window and yell at her like, cmahhn tay! you got an appt with the butkis’ and i told u not to get that dress dirty! and tiny taylor chewing gum is like awww cuhmuhhhhhn doi-anne! just lemme knahck this one outta the pawrk first! that’s not the line it’s something else referencing the fact that they’re playing in the middle of the street of their inner city neighborhood. she is the pretty white girl of the orphanage so it makes no sense she hasn’t been adopted but is of course the star athlete of the kids and favorite of the social worker you-kirstie alley. she is accosted by kids and called a reject and lil taytay’s all why i awwwghta! she’s making her best >:| face, and pop goes the weasel she hits the ball and probably breaks a window or something and as she runs to the cab the kids are like, the butkis ppl are creeps that collect kids! and taytay is tayrrified before threatening the other kids with her fists in the air as the cab drives away. cut to a close up of a nineties cellphone and private plane landing, and taylor number two is wearing a practical pantsuit in beige and just won another piano competition, and she overpronounces all of her t’s at the end of her words. let’s call her fancita. yes i’m serious, i’m already so tired and bored of this story, it was way more exciting after rewatching the other night. whatever this story is just a remix of the parent trap anyway and that’s why we have two baby swifts and don’t ask me why, don’t ask me why i’ve taken you this far down the rabbithole but let’s just keep going until we find each other. so fancita is an aristocratic princess that plays tennis and i don’t know, i’m just trying to get to the part where they are like omg let’s get this social worker and rich man who has a cell phone company before that’s even a thing, and while orphan taytay is in danger of becoming the next adopted butkis - which in this version is just straight up trafficking ring i mean come on, they were pedos and it was heavily insinuated in the movie, but basically she’s in danger of being adopted into an abusive hellhole and fancitay is like hey girl hey! when her butler arrives to pick her up from her private jet. the nineties always portrayed wealth with these long ridiculous limos and british butler limo drivers, which as we now all know rich people are just driven in cars w tinted windows and the only people riding in limos are seniors in high school, but i digress. she meets her new soon-to-be stepmother, also played by taylor swift, present day style. she’s all, when i was your age i had already been through three stepmothers, you’ll be in a tibetan boarding school as soon as the wedding is over tomorrow! for this she is in her satanic red high priestess dress from lwymmd, golden snake rings at all. actually let’s just say at some point she’s bathing in diamonds as well, i mean there are many versions of her current snake-embraced image that we can use for this but that’s not the point, it is that im not even in love with grown taylor swift! i am just trying to fill the void of my dead wife who loved children and built a camp conveniently across from the literal castle we live in. i haven’t been there since, pushes back hair like sigh, since she died ten years ago right after fancitay was born. i’m all, cell phones, i hate the damn things. back when i invested in them everyone thought it was just something out of star trek and now i’m a lonely billionaire marrying snake taylor in a haze of confusion and thinking that’s what i should do, fancita needs a mother after all. you’re a tough talking protective mama bear that wants to adopt orphan taytay but you’re just a social worker and what? the butkis’ already had the paperwork go through to adopt her?? i come to find you after a failed horse meetup planted by the taylor twins to apologize for leaving you to get yelled at by steptaylor, and you’re like look keep your fancy cell phone company lifestyle and keep it moving, bucko! in the movie they get into a food fight but i’m not trying to go that deep, but basically we fight until you, an enraged four foot two version of kirstie alley okay you’re actually just a tiny goth and i’m a clumsy ogre, that part never changes. you push me with all your might, not necessary trying to push me into the river but it happens and i’m all, oh my god i feel like a kid again! this must be love! okay but seriously, that part’s the realest. i do feel like a kid again, and this must be love, mustn’t it? what will our tiny taylors tell us? we don’t know what it is or why, but it makes sense because we feel it, i can feel you. even when you say to your fellow social worker friend (played by your bandmate and beloved drummer) guys like that only date girls with food names like candy or muffin or cookie, and princess taylor disguised as orphan taylor turns around from her archery practice, greatly offended and snapping back, his dead wife was a teacher that loved kids and built this camp and she wasn’t a food her name was kathy with a k played by kourtney in a brief shot of her glamorously in a casket but dripping in jewels and hands delicately crossed over her chest. whatever, goth kourtney fantasies are not the point ok i know that. you look at princess taylor disguised as pauper taylor and are like well excuse me jeez, you don’t gotta bully me over it. sigh so then the state comes for her and accidentally send my daughter to some terrifying child sex ring that nightmares are made of and turned into dateline episodes, and this one is no less horrifying. orphan taylor shows the butler various scars and marks and bruises to show that she’s a fraudulent child that happens to just be another cute blonde that adults didn’t look closely enough at and notice bc they aren’t actually twins in this story, they’re just strangers that look alike. which honestly is prob when they first really started making the olsens insane irl like, pitting them against each other by pointing out fraternal differences and how one was the cute one the other was just the sister oh, don’t even get me started, dear. steptaylor comes home with ultra long extensions like repunzel after sneaky orphan taylor put gum in her hair. the original she gets it all cut off and suddenly her loss of beauty is signified by a short haircut which is so dumb and we just can’t agree with something so stupid, so in this she comes back with thousands of dollars worth of hair that isn’t hers just to prove her worth and appeal, which honestly is much sadder than a short sassy do any day. we get to the home of the butkis’ but no one answers and a neighbor who in the actual movie looks exactly like mike, like no shit just put a bass on him and it’s like every dude in a band probably but him specifically - unless i hallucinated it, the point is! he originally says oh that guy works those kids into the ground at the factory all day, or something like that, but in this version maybe he just shudders bc everyone just gets the pervy vibe from this butkis guy. the door gets kicked in as they are just about to initiate her into the butkis cult of abuse, and i don’t know i think it just ends with like, kirstie alley and the dad kissing? like they don’t get married or anything i don’t think. which leaves so many questions open like, if they do end up getting married, will the taylors become friends? will fancita resent taytay for taking up space and attention away? or will she be so grateful for good mother that everything will be fine and normal and fall into place? it seems like they’re all destined to end up on doctor phil. i mean, what happens when this bonehead (me) doesn’t continue to invest properly and his dumb luck cell phone business inevitably plummets because by the late nineties they’re a dime a dozen and each one is a sinking ship. what happens when they go bankrupt and all have to be poor, will they stay together? will princess taylor be like this is all your fault you’re bad luck with your poor people vibes! bc she can’t understand the crashing economy and how this is just what happens to people, one day you can be rich and the next totally broke, and it’s not really anyone’s fault. are you going to still love me even though i am horrible at saving money is what i’m asking? like, can you just quietly move money around in my accounts for me and put stuff in my savings when i’m not looking? because if i see literally any extra change i’m going to be like time to go eat giant cheeseburgers and drink ourselves into a coma! i got a groupon for a hotel stay in florida, let’s road trip! i know what your biggest concern is besides money and it’s because i know you like the back of my head (not at all), but the answer is no, steptaylor drowns in a sea of snakes at some point because i don’t have time for a decent end for her. i feel like it should be more feminist, like maybe she gets a job slinging mary kay and in the process realizes not only is she a boss at making her own income but that she doesn’t even need the amount of makeup she had been using before. she has like her own spiritual journey in the background somewhere far, far away from us and our super exclusive love, as well as our twin daughters taylor one and taylor two. i have completely forgotten their names by now but i’m just here to see if you even still love me. well? do you??? i’m just trying to prepare you for when i’m like, starting every other sentence with “you know when my wife died…” at really inappropriate times like, to a cashier in the checkout line or just in bed when we are having a romantic evening that i was bound to spoil in one way or another, so it may as well be with dead wife talk. you will probably just laugh and attempt to smother me with a pillow for being so, so embarrassing. i miss you i love you i hate you i don’t know you. i want you. do i ever even say anything else anymore? i mean it is halloween season so technically i don’t have to be original, right? you are the only ghost i could ever truly love, and that’s saying a lot seeing as how i arrived to this world haunted. pls tho, don’t ever stop being my best boo.

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 14

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

She’d find some excuse about missing evidence or statements to call him back in, or something along those lines. He was too good a catch to let him escape, and she wasn’t prepared to allow that to happen. And Dinah Madani, as anyone who knew or worked with her soon found out, was one very determined lady.

The weekend following the op, Dinah had literally just sat and wallowed in her apartment, several bottles of wine, takeout and the TV being her only companions. She stewed and stewed about the Russo Situation, as her mind categorised it. She really wasn’t going to let this lie, she was the one who should be with him.

By Wednesday morning, Dinah was sitting in her office scrolling through various witness statements again on her laptop, tapping her pen impatiently on the desk as she did. She’d spent the last two days scrutinising them.

Her mind was working overtime, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for calling Russo back in. It had to be cast-iron, otherwise her co-workers and possibly Russo would smell a rat. She started reading through an eyewitness report from just prior to the shooting; this one might do, as it mentioned seeing Russo (‘tall guy in a black army outfit’) raising his gun just before one of her team had actually shot the guy. She might be able to say she needed him to go over his exact movements at that point, as she didn’t think it had been described in micro-detail in his own statement.

Her internal phone rang, and she grabbed the receiver - it was her boss, the Special Agent in Charge or SAC. “Sir?” His gruff voice sounded annoyed, “Can you come to my office, please?” She frowned, “I’m just going over the -“ but he cut her off, “Now, Madani!” “Of course,” she replied, putting the phone down and getting up from her desk. What’s got his panties in a bunch, she thought as she left her office and headed along the corridor to his.

She knocked and heard a terse “Come in!” and entered his office. One look at his beetroot face made her wish she’d been out on a call somewhere. His blood pressure only ever got this high if some really big boulder of shit had come rolling down the hill and dropped on him.

“Siddown,” he grunted, and waited until she was sitting opposite him. He heaved a big sigh, interlacing his fingers as he placed his hands on the desk in front of him, then stared across at her.

“Dinah... I’ve received two official complaints about you.” She gaped at him. Definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

“What? Who from?!!!” she demanded. He exhaled a breath; even he’d noticed Dinah’s ‘heart-eyes’ for this guy. She wasn’t going to like this.

“Billy Russo, and a friend of his.”

“Oh, let me guess!” She said a name, “That’s his ‘friend’, isn’t it?!” He nodded, “Yes. They both allege that you acted in an unprofessional manner during the case which has just been closed.”

“Unprofessional, how exactly?” she questioned him. His beetroot face went an even more vibrant shade of red, and he cleared his throat, “Russo alleges that you made unwanted sexual advances to him, and that you... uhhh, you engaged in an act of voyeurism while he was having sexual relations with his girlfriend.”

Dinah felt a flush spreading over her face, and she huffed out a breath. “And her? What did she have to add to the mix?” He held her angry gaze, “She said you carried out a totally unnecessary interview with her, solely to obtain information about her relationship with Russo.” She couldn’t stop herself from spitting out, “Huh! Relationship!”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “Dinah, you do seem to be rather more.... interested in Russo than the casework would require? Did you engage in a personal relationship with him during the course of the case?” She crossed her arms over her chest, “No! Well, yes.... to an extent! He took me out for lunches a couple of times and drinks one night, but that’s as far as it went!” More’s the pity, supplied her brain.

“Well, Dinah, I can’t sweep this under the carpet I’m afraid, as they’ve made the complaints official. Their statements have been made and filed with Professional Standards.”

Her eyebrows rose, and for the first time, a sliver of trepidation made its way into her mind. “I see. I didn’t realise it had already been fast-tracked to them.” He shook his head, “Not fast-tracked, Dinah - just following standard procedure. They came in to speak to PS yesterday, and they’ve just contacted me as your line manager to make me - and in turn, you - aware that the complaint’s been filed.” She chewed the inside of her lip; she was having a hard time getting her head around the fact that only two days after he’d come to the final briefing, he’d returned to the office and filed this complaint.

“PS will be in touch with you to arrange a formal hearing to investigate the complaint. They’ll give you a copy of the statements made, and you’ll be able to have an advisor with you.” He looked down at his hands, before meeting her eyes again, “I’m sorry this has happened, Dinah, but it has and things have just got to take their course. I’m not going to suspend you but for the moment, until this is resolved you’ll be on desk duties only.”

Her mouth tightened, but she gave him a brief nod and managed to say almost civilly, “Yes, sir.” He leant back in his chair, “Okay, that’s all for now.” She got up abruptly and left the office, making sure she didn’t slam the door. Although she really, really, wanted to.

She walked back to her office, this unexpected development turning over and over in her mind. She carefully closed her office door, but then kicked her desk viciously, her anger boiling over. This was obviously her idea, thought Dinah, it’s got to be! She just didn’t see Billy as a complaint-filing kinda guy.

Well, his little lady friend would soon find out she picked the wrong woman to fuck with!

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Billy’s eyes opened slowly, and he stretched his arms and legs fully out, yawning. His right hand met empty space - he was by himself in the bed. He sat up and pushed the covers back, leaning over the side of the bed and grabbing his boxer briefs off the floor.

He got up and pulled them on before wandering through to his living area.... ah, there she was. Making coffee and toast for them. Moving silently up behind her like the sniper he was, he grabbed hold of her then burst out laughing as she gave a small shriek.

“Russo! You sneaky bastard, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” His mouth went to the spot behind her ear and he placed a small kiss there, before suddenly licking the entire side of her face. “Russo!” she yelled again, but he heard a small laugh at the end of it. “Mornin’, angel.” He started peppering kisses all over her face and neck, and she laughed again, “Do you want this coffee or not?!” and then just managed to grab a slice of the toast as it came flying out of the toaster. He grabbed it out of her hand and started looking around for the butter and a knife.

“Yeah okay, sweetheart, let’s have our coffee an’ toast. It’s just I didn’t get my Thursday mornin’ kiss when I woke up,” he pouted over at her. She grinned at him, “Oh my god, you know you really are the sappiest of big saps! I’m just not gonna stop calling you out on that. Big bad Marine, yeah right.”

He reached for her and crushed her up against the the worktop, kissing her ferociously and running his hands all over her. He could hear her making little mewling sounds so he upped the ante, sliding his briefs down with one hand, then grabbed her hips and boosted her up onto the counter. He pushed her long t-shirt (actually his t-shirt) up over her thighs and slid his hard-on inside her. He felt her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, pulling him closer to her and settling him in. Billy closed his eyes, head going back at the feeling of being sheathed inside her. He felt like he was losing control of himself, he wanted her so much. He began thrusting, wildly, pushing deep inside her - his brain told him he was going at it like a teenage boy on his first sexual adventure - but he couldn’t stop himself.

Suddenly, he felt himself releasing and gave a long disappointed groan, his forehead dropping onto her shoulder. “Uhhhh... no,” he groaned again, kissing her, “Sorry, angel - got too excited. Couldn’t hold it.”

She leant forward and kissed him, “No need to apologise, tiger... happens to the best of them.” He frowned, “But not to me, sweetheart,” stroking her hair back and kissing her eyebrow, “that’s a first! What are you doin’ to me, woman?!” He had seriously never come so quickly in his life. Thinking back to when he lost his virginity - 15 years old in the group home with one of the older girls - he remembered that even then he’d lasted longer. Not much longer, but still.

He smiled at her, “You know I think I am whipped,” he said, laughing.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Laughing back at him, she jumped down off the counter and ripped a couple of paper towels off the roll next to the toaster. Dampening them under the tap, she handed one to Billy and they quickly cleaned themselves up. He eased his briefs back up over his slightly damp thighs, and noticed she was going through the lower cupboards. “What’ya lookin’ for, sweetheart?” She opened another cupboard door and peered inside it, “Clorox or whatever....” He opened the cupboard door under the sink and took out a spray bottle, handing it to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Gonna disinfect yourself, angel?” he smirked at her, “I mean I know what my rep was like in the past, but I always wore a condom.” She smacked the bottle against his butt, “Just the countertop, honey... we’ve just had sex on it if you recall!” “Owww! Ahh...okay, right,” he nodded, and she grinned back at him, “I can see I’ve still got some house-training to do for my puppy.” He mock-frowned and smacked her ass lightly, “Not a puppy, sweetheart!”

“I don’t know why you object to that, Billy - puppies are cute!” He popped the toast slices back in the toaster to reheat them a bit, “Puppies piss and shit all over the place and dry-hump people’s legs!” She burst out laughing, “Wow! I didn’t realise you were so puppy-phobic, Russo!” “I’m not! I just don’t want to be compared to one,” he protested. She finished spraying the counter and wiped it all down.

Leaning up, she kissed him softly, “Oh okay... Hurt Male Ego alert!! What d’you wanna be, poppet... a tiger?” She went back to attending to the coffee. “Well, you did call me tiger earlier, so yeah - I can live with that,” he grinned. “I might just call you poppet.” He nudged his shoulder against hers, “You’d better not.” She brandished to coffee pot at him, “Try and stop me!” Just then, Billy heard his phone chime in the bedroom with a new text message.

He strolled back through there and picked it up, his mouth pulling into a line as he saw the sender’s name.

Dinah: Russo, I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but I want to speak to you about this complaint you’ve filed.

Russo: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Dinah: You owe me an explanation.

Russo: Do I? And an explanation about what? It’s quite straightforward.

Dinah: No it isn’t. You meet me tomorrow at the Chelsea Piers, 10 AM. Then you’ll be nice and close to your little girlfriend and you can go running back to her afterwards.

Ouch, thought Billy, someone’s still jealous.

Russo: OK I’ll meet you for a 5-minute talk and that’s it.

Dinah: And keep this to yourself, Russo.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy walked back through to the kitchen, tapping his phone on his chin as he went, deep in thought. Did he tell her about this, or just keep quiet? He couldn’t work out why Madani was so insistent on an actual meeting. His gut told him nothing good could come from this, he just knew it. He wasn’t absolutely sure of the details, but he was under the impression that Madani should not be in contact with him when there was an active complaint against her. He’d better be damn careful when they met tomorrow.

She’d finished pouring the coffee and buttering the toast and turned to him with a wide smile as he reappeared, holding out a plate and cup to him, “Here you go, poppet.” He took them from her, smiling back and shaking his head, “Poppet! Do I really look like a ‘poppet’?!” he said, following behind her as they left the kitchen area. He leant forward and planted an open-mouthed kiss on her neck. “You look like a big sap,” she laughed back, “but a very sex-ceeee one in just your briefs,” and rubbed her body up against him, making him groan.

As they made their way over to his sofa, he thought to himself that maybe he’d just stay silent about it, his angel was in a good mood and he didn’t want to place a black cloud over the day. Both of them had decided to have a day off from work, he had plans for the two of them and he didn’t want to spoil it all. He made up his mind as he looked over at her, she was smiling at him and his stomach did a backflip as it had been doing a lot lately.

Yeah, he’d just not mention it.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

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