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gripefroot · 3 years ago

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Maiden of the Garden

an Azriel x Elain one shot

She had never felt so safe.

Not that she had never been so safe - she supposed she had been, for several years of her life, scattered here and there - but this was different. A different safety. The kind that wrapped her up inside and out, settled between her ribs to sleep like the closed petals of a lily. The kind that hummed a melody in her ear even in silence, unable to be shaken or forgotten - slumbered with her, rose with her.

The kind that knew her; knew all of her, and loved. Never left.

But these were solemn thoughts for the dawn. At least, she supposed it was dawn - it was hard to be sure. Elain shifted her sleep-heavy limbs with an unbidden hum in her throat, but the arm around her waist simply tightened. Her smile couldn’t be seen by anyone. Not even him: his breathing hadn’t changed, and so she knew he wouldn’t be hearing the race of her heart, either.

Blinking open her eyes, she only saw faint light filtered through the membrane of the pink-tinged wing slung over her face. For protection, or comfort. She hadn’t asked. A yawn split her face, then, and she brought the back of her hand to cover it, but not before her breath fluttered that velvet wing, just slightly.

He stirred behind her, the slightest groan thrumming from his chest and into her back. Elain shivered, and dared - dared to reach out her fingers to touch...to trace the thin veins visible as lines of darker pink spiderwebbing through the membrane. The patterns were nonsense to any eye, but they were the outline of his make. His shape. Him.

The rumble of a deep, foggy voice in her ear that sent shivers skating up the length of her spine: "If your intention was to wake me, dearest, you have succeeded."

Elain hummed then, but didn’t stop. Traced one finger up to the bone, which trembled as she swiped a gentle feel to the talon. “You were deeply asleep if it took that long.”

“I was.” A rasp. His arm tightened still, nearly pressing the air out of her - a contrast to the warm, satiny lips that pressed to the back of her neck, nuzzling that place between neck and hairline, where he breathed in deep and low. This was the safety, she knew. Of his larger, broader body tucked around hers. Even bare, as they both were, and sleepy to boot.

Here, there was no pretense. No pretending she was anything other than what - who - she was. And Elain sighed at that, ready to melt into the bedsheets and into his arms and never face the world again.

“You’re thinking.” Azriel’s hand slid up to clasp her shoulder, just as his mouth branded the base of her neck. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she couldn’t speak as his fingers made a stroking path - as gentle as hers as had been across his wing - down her arm to her fingers, still outstretched, to weave his between hers. Not a shadow in sight where the sun kissed. The scars didn’t look any less violent in the bruised light of dawn, but they belonged here. Still beautiful, with the sorrow behind them.

Just like her. He was the same.

“Am I thinking too loudly?” Elain quipped, and his response was a low chuckle before teeth nipped into the back of her shoulder - she gasped at the sensation, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. He pressed their clasped hands into the bed, and she arched, tilting her head backwards against his shoulder as his mouth made a hot trail for her ear...and her throat swelled and went thick with the flick of his tongue against the point of it.

“Far too loudly,” Azriel whispered, his tone grave. But she knew he was teasing, all the same. She knew it in her heart.

“I’ve scarcely thought any thoughts at all these last days,” Elain whispered. Again his tongue traced around her ear, suckling gently at the tip. She shivered. “Perhaps I need to make up for it.”

“No need,” he told her. “Not yet.”

She hummed. “And you have no thoughts rattling around yet, shadowsinger?”

“No,” Azriel said promptly. Laughed a laugh that made her heart pound, her thighs to clench together. “I know better than to think too loudly where my High Lord could snoop in.”

Elain hummed again.

“But…” His voice lowered an octave, and suddenly he wasn’t pressed so hard against her anymore - she bit back a moan of displeasure at that, at the withdrawing of his wing to let in more of the dawn light. No, she didn’t like that one bit. But then she felt his mouth on her spine, kissing lower with each breath and her hand clenched empty air as her head swam with heady deliciousness. “No, that was a lie, dearest. I am thinking. I’m thinking of you.”

She whimpered. The talon of his wing was pressed into the bed by her waist, and she could feel the searing imprint of his lips at the base of her spine. Slowly he peeled away the tangle of sheets and blankets from around and between her legs. They rustled, tossed aside without care. It truly was morning, Elain thought in her fog. Sunbeams shone through the glass windows, breaking around the wickedly curved tip of his wing.

“I thought,” she said, breathless - swallowed once, twice, to clear the raspiness from her throat as one of his hands slid up between her legs to part them. “I thought this - the frenzy was over.”

“It is,” Azriel told her. Then his face appeared over the curve of her hip, his smile broad and shining, hair tousled from sleep and eyes nearly gold in the sunlight. In a purr he clarified, “Frenzy or not, I still want you, Elain. I want all of you.” With his fingertips gently pressing into her thigh, he lifted it. First against his shoulder, and she twisted her ankle to keep from bumping his wing, even as she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

“I want you, too,” Elain whispered.

Over his bare, tattooed shoulders shadows crept curiously, as if wondering what all the fuss was about: they hadn’t been around much, these past days, and almost absently Azriel flicked one or two of the more daring ones away, and they slunk back. Then, his lips tilted into a crooked, promising smile that made her heart want to leap from its cavity in her chest and into his.

Where she was, and always would be - safe.

“Lay back,” he ordered, and into the soft pillows she sunk, closing her eyes and breathing out as steadily as she could. But that intention, good as it was, melted away like ice on a summer day at the first stroke of his tongue.

It was what her sisters had said; off-hand, in insinuating conversations she’d never been meant to hear. When it was this, it was always as intense and burning as the first time. Over and over again, with the immortal stamina and sensitivity. Elain inhaled sharply, reaching, reaching - and it was a scarred hand that held hers as she writhed against him, dignity having been left outside this house days ago. She moaned his name loud enough to wake anyone nearby.

Fortunately, they were alone, because when her release hit like a roaring wave over her, crashing again and again as Azriel groaned into her, she may have shouted.

She could feel it, as solidly as if it was a golden rope between them - even in her dizzy state, Elain reached out and tugged, wanting him, wanting him, wanting him there, with her, where she could kiss him until she drowned. He jolted at the tug, crawling up and over her body at once, though pausing long enough to litter hasty kisses at her breasts that still bore faded, lilac-colored bruises from yesterday. Or was it the day before that? She couldn’t remember.

Azriel’s mouth was salty, but she drank him in. Tasting every bit of his lips and tongue as he growled, elbows on either side of her, pinning her in - and when her lashes fluttered open she could see the expanse of his wings, flared out above him. The color of roses when they were pressed and preserved between the pages of a book. His majesty, she thought in a rush.

No, this wasn’t the frenzy, but it was no less than before. When he slid inside, stretching her until she was complete and whole and whimpering. Around his shoulders her arms hung, fingers twining in his mussed hair as he grunted, lifting and pushing one of her knees to the side...

This one they rode out together, Azriel pulling his head back slightly to stare down at her, a rush of emotion in those hazel eyes as Elain felt herself riveted to his gaze - licking her lips, tilting herself towards him for every part of him he offered: it was always all of him.

He didn’t move when they were done. Just rested his forehead against hers, breathing each other’s breaths as it all washed over them, his hands clenching hers to the bed. The heat, the longing, the love. Every part. And then he laid his head in the crook of her shoulder, and let out a sigh that felt more than a sigh. His wings drooped, and rested against the bed like a shroud around them.

A few of the more daring shadows peeked inquisitively over the side of the bed. Elain smiled at that, twisting her fingers away from Azriel to reach for the darkness - blessed coolness twirled around her hand in whorls of smoky black. Gentler than a lover.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispered into her ear.

“I know.”

But she didn’t mind. Never had. And truthfully, the whispering cold they skated across her skin dried the damp sweat on her arm as they snooped upwards was pleasant.

“They’re being nosey,” Azriel told her. “Tell them to go away if you want.”

“I don’t want to,” Elain said. Tilted her face back towards him, smiling. And despite that morning, despite that week, color stole across his tanned face, a wavering sort of curve to his lips. “I’ve been selfish, keeping you to myself, haven’t I?”

“No,” he said at once. “Never. Never.”

“They missed you.”

He stilled. Blinked once, twice - then dark brows knitted together curiously. “How do you know?”

“Just a guess,” Elain admitted. Flicked her hand upwards, and the shadows slithered away and off the bed to play more later. That cooler hand she pressed to his face, then, the rough scratch of whiskers that hadn’t been shaved for a few days. But she liked the scrape of them in her palm. “A guess,” she went on. “Because when you’re not riveted on me, I miss you, too.”

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Flirting, El? Really?”

“Why not?” She squirmed, limbs grown heavy and tingling from the weight of him - at once he pushed himself off and away, wings fluttering back as if afraid of her feeling even a whisper of discomfort. Elain let that slide, electing to sit up with a yawn to stretch her arms overhead. She didn’t miss the poking shadows coming up again - nor their immediate disappearance at Azriel’s hiss of warning.

But his hiss was overladen by the growling of her stomach, and immediately Elain lowered her arms to cover her belly as embarrassed heat stained her face. But he laughed.

“Hungry?” he asked, and she threw a narrowed look over her shoulder, at him reclined back on the bed and his own gaze darkened at the sight of her naked back.

“I wouldn’t be so hungry if you didn’t come down to the kitchen to distract me,” she told him, trying to be demure - but he brought out this snappish part of her. This bravery. Saying what she wanted to say. Unlocking her lips.

“It was one time,” Azriel said. And grinned. Clearly remembering the afternoon she’d been too hungry to continue and begged for a respite, wandering to the kitchen in an old shirt of his to prepare some victuals for them - but he’d gotten impatient and gone to find her, and it had ended with her bent over the kitchen table and a basket of apples tipped onto the floor...

“I’m thinking that this mating frenzy isn’t well-thought out as a whole,” Elain said as she swung her legs over the side of the bed - she was leaking, but she didn’t mind that - nor did she mind the shadows that hid under the bed as she strode to the dresser where she’d dropped her clothes the first day they’d come here.

The last time she’d even worn clothes.

“What do you mean?” he asked as she shook out old underthings with a frown. They’d have to do until she had more clothes. Hopefully when the female staff returned today.

“Well - only that it’s a great deal of - of lovemaking.” She couldn’t say sex yet. “And that takes energy. And...well, food. But we couldn’t even pry ourselves apart long enough to eat.”

“I ate plenty,” Azriel said in a lazy voice. Elain pursed her lips and sent him a look - but he was grinning, and she laughed. And likely blushed, too. With a groan he sat forward, rolling his neck as she shook out her wrinkled frock. Shameful, to meet the staff in. If she’d been wise enough to take the extra ten minutes to pack clothes at the townhouse...but wisdom and mating didn’t work well together, it seemed.

She slipped the pale frock over her head, smoothing it down her front and trying to tug on it enough that the wrinkles didn’t show as much. Straightened the waistline beneath her breasts, aware of his eyes on her…

“Will you help me?” Elain asked. Shook out the ties at the nape of her neck for his benefit. Of course she could tie them herself, but when Azriel’s eyes glowed with admiration like that, and even halfway across the bedroom, he was too far…

He was behind her in the span of three heartbeats. Smiling that shy smile, his warm fingers trailing over the bare skin of her back before lifting the ties. Coolness followed: Elain shivered, knowing exactly what was tickling up her spine.

“Leave her be,” Azriel whispered sternly - not meant for her, as she felt the pull of the ties closed.

“No, I don’t mind,” she said. “Let them.”

And as if smug at her permission, she felt the shadows curl over her shoulder, drawing back her loose and tangled hair from in front of her breast, smoothing the strays from her face as she giggled at the sensation.

“I don’t suppose they can braid, too?” Elain asked in a light voice, and he grumbled.

“They’d learn for you,” he said. “But I’m going to draw a line somewhere, El. I can’t let them worship at your feet like this, otherwise there will be no room for me.”

She shivered at that, and at the warm, rough feel of his calloused hands on her bare arms. His lips behind her ear.

“Maybe I don’t want you at my feet,” she whispered. He went still, pausing as the shadows darted away again. Perhaps told to leave. Perhaps not wanting to see what was in his mind.

“Then where do you want me?” Azriel asked, his voice a rasp. Hands trailing down, over her body - then dipping between her legs, scrunching the folds of her frock there. The gentle press of his hand drew a moan from between her lips. “Here? Can I worship here?”

“Yes,” Elain breathed out. How she could want him again so soon - she didn’t know. Only that her blood was pounding, her voice cracked as she said, “And you’ve already done your morning venerations.”

“And what if I don’t want to wait until evening?”

“Then you’d better hope your household staff makes themselves scarce at opportune moments.”

His laugh broke the tautness of the moment. Struck through the air like a hand on a harp, making it shimmer with music. Elain twisted in his arms to face him, to soak in the sight of that pure joy in his expression. Rare, and beautiful: she hoisted herself onto her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.

“Breakfast?” she asked with a flutter of her lashes.

A swallowed growl as his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against him. “Anything,” Azriel said in a low voice. “Anything for you.”

“But you can’t - you can’t take me in the kitchen like you did last time.”

His lips curled downwards in what was best described as a pout. It made him look more boyish than anything; a younger version of him she’d never known, but desperately wanted to. Just to understand him better.

“Aren’t you hungry, too?” Elain asked quietly. Traced along his jaw with her fingers, and he tilted his chin to kiss her palm.

“Food is one of the last things on my mind,” Azriel admitted.

“But you still need it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “And after breakfast I want that tour of the gardens you promised me months ago.”

His brows flicked upward at that, but he was grinning, all the same, and it made her heart swell up bigger just to see him so...so unburdened. Free.

Not unlike how she felt.

Rosehall, despite the name, wasn’t as grand as Rhys and Feyre’s river house. Elain had expected something sprawling and majestic as its owner, but now she felt foolish for such thoughts. Of course Azriel wouldn’t have a grand house - though it was as beautiful as any mansion she’d ever seen. More beautiful. With creeping vines of roses over trellises and a pagoda swarming with greenery. Belly full of cheese and apples (few items in the deserted kitchen were fit to eat after a week, or unprepared), Elain trailed her fingers over the leaves as Azriel tucked her other arm around his. A steady, solid presence beside her - though it must be terribly dull for him to explore the home he’d lived in for centuries already. But he said not a word against it.

The stucco house glowed in the sunshine, coppery-red roof tiles reflecting homey warmth. And, as they stepped into the sunshine that beckoned the garden path in front of them, Elain breathed deeply at the familiar scents that curled around her. Rich soil, sweet flowers, and him - her mate - musky cedar and rain that fell in the night.

The shadows that had nipped at their heels out of the door lurked at the pagoda, shaded from the sun, and came no further.

“It’s spring,” she said aloud, foolish as it sounded.

“It is,” Azriel said. “And you’re lovely.”

Elain tried to suppress a flush, and she didn’t know whether she succeeded or not. Casting him a look, her eyes were drawn to his wings spread behind him as if to catch the sun. Or to stretch out the muscles.

“Are you sunning them? Your wings?” she asked curiously.

“Er - no. Not exactly.” Something sheepish had stolen over his expression, but she waited until he went on in a voice that nearly sounded begrudging to her ears. “It’s...an Illyrian form of posturing,” Azriel admitted. “I can’t really help it. Staking a claim.”

“A claim?”

“On you.”

“Ah.” Elain nodded. “Yes. Because you think I’d see any other male when you are around.”

His lips twitched at that. “Flattering as that is, dearest, it’s not for you to see. It’s for the males to see. To know to stay away from you.”

“There is no one else here.”

“The staff is returning today,” Azriel reminded her with an arched brow. He hadn’t combed his hair that morning, she realized, and a secret smile tugged at her lips. His black hair was as disheveled as it had been when he’d crawled out of bed that morning...and tickled by the scarce breeze that fluttered the flowers and bushes around them. She could’ve sighed at the sight.

“Only females, you said.”

“Yes.” Something graver, more dangerous lurked in his voice then. But the pace of their slow steps on the stone path didn’t falter. Elain squeezed his arm in some comfort, and he slanted a smile towards her. “It’s best if I...I’m not around other males quite yet.”

She nodded in contemplation. Her sisters had mentioned that, too. But the heart-thudding sound of his wings as he shook them out even wider made her tremble, heat pooling in her limbs again...his breath caught at the same time hers did, his eyes fastening onto her face with the sharp immediacy of gnawing hunger.

But Azriel swallowed. His gaze dropped to her throat, as if he could see the pulse of her heartbeat there. “Rhys said he’d come when he can,” he rasped to her. “Help...me. To face others again.”

“Help?” Elain’s voice was wispy. Her knees weak.

“As a punching post until I can behave properly.” A wry twist of his lips, then, as his eyes darted back up to hers at last. She was feeling hot in the sun, though the air itself wasn’t warm. Her free hand shook as she rested it at her throat, swallowing thickly.

“I’m in no danger,” she whispered.

“No.” A colder edge to his tone now. “You’re not. Though any male that looks at you will be.”

Elain shivered. Melted against him, as if his words had cut the very strings holding her upright - his arms stole around her at once, and his mouth found hers in a bruising kiss. A claiming kiss. One that made the bond between them purr with satisfaction, until her breathing was short and his hazel eyes blazing hotter than the sun as he stared down at her, tucking brown-gold curls behind the points of her ears.

“Now that our alone time is nearly at an end, we should wait until we’re behind locked doors,” Azriel murmured. “I hate to think what would be said of us if the staff returned while we were sprawled in the garden with my head up your skirts.”

The crassness should bother her, she knew - but it only made her hotter. Sensibility all but gone, and she didn’t miss it. Didn’t miss those walls that had kept her locked away for so long.

“They already know what we’ve been doing,” Elain pointed out, her voice barely above a whisper, and his head tilted to the side as he considered her. As if he’d perked up at her insinuation. Still he protested,

“But seeing it - ”

“What difference should it make?” she challenged. Ran her hands up his black shirt, to rest on his chest where she could feel the frantic pumping of his heart. “I - I know it’s different here. And with such things as Calanmai…”

Azriel’s eyes darkened a shade to burnished gold, the thick sound of his wings posturing out further; shading her from the sun. Or prying eyes. As if the mere mention of the Rite had woken something completely, utterly fae in him; ready to pounce, to sprawl her in the neatly-trimmed grass as he’d said earlier…

“Are you saying, dearest,” he rumbled, from deep in his chest, “That you’d feel no shame if someone were to...happen upon us?”

“I don’t know,” Elain whispered. “I should, I know...but somehow…” Her voice trailed off, and anxiously she awaited some response from him. It was silent in the cocoon of his wings, where the world outside of this seemed to have stopped spinning. Pausing, holding its breath.

“We can experiment with that,” Azriel promised. “Later.”

Later. But it didn’t stop her heart from racing as he stretched out his wings, and the morning returned to its earlier activity in buzzing insects and the tittering of birds nearby. She heard them, but didn’t see them.

The winding path took them past any number of plants. Elain tried to take note of the varieties that grew here, but it muddled in her mind somewhere beneath the last echoes of the frenzy. Of him beside her, distracting her with little more than his scent and his feel of his muscled arm beneath her palm. And, even worse for her sense but delicious to her soul - Azriel started humming.

Elain let the sound wash over her for a while. Reverberating, deep, almost...hoarse. But as peaceful as the sun. Then, quietly, as he drew in a breath she said, “You can sing aloud. I don’t mind.” With her opposite hand she reached out, and the velvety petals of violet tulips bobbed beneath her touch. She almost expected him to refuse, but he didn’t, and a moment later words formed and sprang into the air as lovely and deep as the dusk:

“Hear me now, oh maiden of the garden,” he began, and she glanced sharply at him, wondering if he was making fun - but it was sincerity and softness. “Maiden of the garden, Hear... Take me to your cold and weedy bed Cold and weedy bed, hear...”

They’d stopped walking, though she pretended more interest in the thick leaves of a fern, freeing him from scrutiny that might close him up…

“Love me through the flooding, muddy soil, Kiss me through the plucks of hungry birds, Marry me in a dress of lily petals Hear...”

If there was more, Azriel didn’t go on. Cleared his throat and softly, without turning, Elain asked, “What song is it?”

“It’s an old ditty,” he told her, his speaking voice bland. “I believe it’s sung throughout Prythian, though the verses vary. I’ve heard Lucien humming the melody under his breath once or twice.”

Regret didn’t belong in that sunny morning, wrenching in her chest like a bitter tea. So Elain buried it, like the dig of her fingers into the cool soil. She’d planted a better seed in its place. Sinking into a crouch, she frowned at a weed that was threatening to overtake a bush of flowers she didn’t recognize. A swift yank dislodged it and its pale root, and she shook the dirt from it. Splatters landed on her white frock, but she merely shook them off as she stood again.

Azriel had stiffened, peering back over his shoulder. “They’re here,” he said quietly. Her heart thumped unhappily: they were no longer alone. These frenzied days had come to an end - she’d known they would, of course, the perfection she’d found in his company, and his alone.

When he turned back at her, she was ready with a smile. “Will you still hold my hand?” Elain asked. “Even though it’s dirty?”

By way of answer he clasped her hand in both of his, bringing it to his mouth for a tender kiss. He lingered there, breathing in deeply as his eyes closed. “Your scent,” he murmured, twisting her hand ‘round to breathe in again, this time his nose pressed to her wrist. “I’ll never get enough of it.”

“You won’t have to,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.” That blazing promise she allowed to shine from her face. Azriel’s eyes snapped up to gaze at her, and his lips twisting into a smile...one without humor, but saturated through with possession.

“Let’s go back. Rest before lunch.”

“We only woke a little while ago.”

“Not that kind of rest.” Then that smile turned teasing, and Elain laughed as he scooped her into his arms without effort, kicking off from the ground in a whoosh that tangled the wind in her hair and around her skirts. His chest was warm and solid - a venerable wall of strength. But if she tilted her head, she could kiss his throat - and she did, taking her time to nibble at the taut, hot skin there. His flight wobbled somewhat, a groan whipped away at speed.

She saw nothing of the staff that he’d mentioned - perhaps he concealed her. And as Azriel swooped to the balcony that jutted from the east side of the house, connected to his bedroom by double doors paned with frosted glass, she strained her ears to hear. As is from far away, quiet female voices and the clattering of pots and pans. Her meager breakfast after so many days of even scanter nourishment hadn’t been enough. Elain was starving. But she wanted her mate, too, with a different kind of ache as he nudged open one of the doors with a foot to stride through, still carrying her - and she would very much appreciate a bath, and -

“You’re thinking loudly again,” Azriel remarked.

“I was thinking of a bath,” she admitted, peering up at him.

“Oh?”

“And a meal would be welcome.”

The shadows were there, waiting for them - as soon as Azriel set her down on the floor they snaked up around her, and him - Elain felt the coolness flick the heat from her face like a breezy whisper. The prickling sweat at the back of her neck gone beneath her heavy hair.

“I can’t believe it,” he mumbled, and she turned to face him with a smile. “They’re fussing.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, but then hurried to add, “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Well, I’m jealous, certainly,” Azriel grinned. “But I don’t see why I’m so surprised. I adore you, after all. Why shouldn’t they?”

“A poignant question indeed.” Elain would have had to be a special kind of stupid not to notice that the shadows had crept up her back, and flicked the tie of her dress undone before slithering away - but it did bring a flush to her cheeks. “Dear me,” she mumbled, though she didn’t mean it as the straps of her frock fell forward. The weight of her breasts sunk the neckline low, and Azriel’s attention was snagged like a fish on a lure, eyes honed in on her. “I wonder what they meant by that.”

His throat bobbed in a swallow. Then, with no more warning than a surge of intention through the golden bond between them, he sprung across the few feet between them to gather her up in a crushing embrace, mouth branding on hers with a groan. Hers or his? Her head spun. She didn’t know -

The bodice was torn down by Azriel’s hand, with which he immediately cupped one of her bare breasts as she whimpered; his teeth sinking into her bottom lip with a ravenous growl.

“Az - ” Elain gasped, tearing at his shirt without even thinking about it - something primal had taken over. “Az - I - ” She meant to say something coy and delicate, perhaps ‘take me to bed’ or ‘please make love to me,’ but she hadn’t the words in her mind. But he knew what she meant, clearly, for she was swept up into his arms once more as he bolted for the bed - it had been neatly made, she realized dazedly - the shadows or the staff?

A knock on the door interrupted a bruising kiss, stopping his hand up her thigh in its tracks. Then an airy, almost nervous voice from the hallway as Azriel tilted his head: “We - we’ve brought up Lady Elain’s trunk sent from Velaris. Of her things.”

“Leave it outside the door,” Azriel said hoarsely. “Th - thank you.”

All the politeness he could manage, and with her heart hammering Elain nudged herself against him, his hard length pressed into her leg. He sucked in a breath at that, turning his attention back to her with burning gold in his eyes: like a breath on embers, the heat inside of her flared. Barely noticed footsteps faded away down the hallway as his wings flared slightly - she couldn’t help staring, wondering if he was posturing again...

“How do you want me?” he whispered. Nudged his nose against hers, completely in contrast to the raging need she felt. The need that surfaced from the marrow of her bones to sluice through her veins, to him.

“Any way,” Elain breathed back, and she meant it.

Azriel’s lips were parted as his gaze raked over her face. A shadow curled beneath his ear, but he paid it no mind: instead, rucked up the hem of her skirt to settle at her hips, exposing her to the air. She shivered, but it was from the molten way he stared at her, the brush of the backs of his scarred fingers on her bare thigh.

“I want you every way,” he said, his voice gone low and dark. “And we have all day.”

That mere insinuation drew a moan from between her lips, and Azriel smiled the sort of smile she suspected a wolf might wear when it saw a fawn: but it wasn’t fear that writhed through her. It was the thrill of being hunted. Being wanted.

He tucked his other arm around her neck, to cradle her close as his wandering fingers stroked up the slit of her. Elain reached up to clasp his face in her hands, pulling it down to kiss him fiercely. The groan through his chest was enough to set her on fire; with the gentle stroking of his fingers she could burn to ashes in a heartbeat.

It didn't take long for him to bring her to climax - she wondered as he peppered kisses to her breasts, if her body responded to him so violently because they were mated or if it was simply because he knew how to play her like an instrument. Breath after breath lifted her chest, trying to calm herself, but it wasn’t to be: with a grin his delved his fingers into her again, and Elain shrieked and squirmed but laughed - he laughed, too, and she felt the cooling brush of shadow against her cheek -

A thunk on the balcony they’d come in on drew Azriel’s gaze to the side, sharp and sudden as a whip. Still protected by his shoulders, Elain poked her head beneath his splayed wing to see a familiar set of boots on the ground. She couldn’t see above that, but she knew who it was. And she was practically naked -

“Well, well, well,” Cassian boomed, and then even his boots were concealed from her gaze as Azriel spread his wings further, shielding her from being seen. She rested her hands on his chest, but his head was turned and his lips curled, baring his teeth. “Still going, Az?”

“Back off,” was the snarl in response. Elain’s breath caught in her throat, but not from fear.

“Is she hiding in there? Or did she scarper?”

“I’m here,” she squeaked back.

“Ah. How are you liking that wingspan, Ellie?”

“Don’t call her that,” Azriel growled, low in his chest. She could feel the tautness of him, ready to spring - though his trousers had been unbuttoned and his shirt was hanging open, he wouldn’t hesitate to attack. Not even his brother. And his Siphons were on the other side of the bed -

“Why not?” Cassian asked, his tone innocent. “Don’t you?”

Elain craned her neck to see over Azriel’s wing - it was about what she expected, Cassian leaning against the open glass doors with the expanse of bright blue sky behind him. He was grinning like a cat that had got the cream, fully-armored, his hair tied back.

“Come out and show me how you really feel, Az,” Cassian said, and she felt Azriel shift above her like a snare. Then Cassian winked, and started walking backwards to the stone railing and, likely, safety. But he still called back, “Nice to see you, Ellie. Nes is waiting downstairs.”

As soon as Cassian went over the edge in a dare, Azriel snarled, and followed at a run. Elain felt the whoosh of air as he left her on the bed, the flap of his wings as he shot out of the doors and into the sky -

Oh, dear. And he hadn’t even buttoned his trousers.

This was what he’d mentioned in the garden, she supposed. “A punching post until I can behave properly,” was what Azriel had said, but he’d assumed Rhys. Had Cassian’s unexpected appearance made it worse?

Tugging at the sleeves and bodice and skirt of her rumpled frock, Elain strode across the bedroom for the balcony, curious - she heard a shout, and a laugh (Cassian’s) and then a crash of something. She had to lean over the edge to see, but they were there, a bundle of black and golden skin and red light as they tumbled on the manicured lawn. The crash had been a marble statue, which now lay in several parts. She flinched as Azriel landed a spectacularly brutal blow against Cassian’s middle, but the general just wheezed, still grinning - he glanced towards her and waved his fingers, but that was a mistake on his part. Azriel turned to face her, snarled at his brother’s irreverence towards his mate, and tackled him back to the grass.

We have all day, Azriel had said, and Elain pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.

No time for a bath quite yet, but she did kneel beside the trunk in the hallway to find more suitable (and clean) clothes. A little fussing and a quick comb of her hair, letting the curls fall down her back threaded through with curious shadows was enough to feel enough of herself to face her sister.

The grunts and shouts and Cassian’s bellowing laughter from the lawn followed her all the way down the stairs.

Nesta, in her usual steel-grey with her hair braided atop her head, was reading a book in one of the front rooms. Elain hadn’t taken the time to explore all that Rosehall had to offer yet, but she squashed that blushing thought as her sister caught sight of her, and stood.

“Well?” Nesta asked with an arch look, gazing at Elain up and down. Another crash from the lawn.

“Well, what?” Elain tried to recall self-control and poise, dragging it up from deep in her chest where she’d lost it sometime several days ago. She would not flush - she had nothing to be ashamed of -

“How are you?”

“Perfectly well. And you?”

Nesta’s eyes flickered to the window. But the males weren’t visible from this side of the house. “He’d better be able to fly us back to Velaris after this,” she said, in an almost grumpy voice, and Elain smiled.

“Are you hungry?” Elain asked. “I think we could find something in the kitchens if you are.”

“I had breakfast not long ago,” Nesta said, and again her attention turned to Elain. Grey eyes narrowed. “Have you eaten at all this week?”

“Here and there.” Practically a lie. And as if to punish her for it, the hollow ache in her belly shuddered inside of her, begging for something - anything. Elain bit her lip to keep from wincing.

“I’ll go find something,” Nesta said in a voice that allowed no argument. “You sit here.”

Weakly Elain sat on a settee to the thump of Nesta’s book being closed and tossed onto a sofa. Her sister strode from the room as if she were mistress of the house, rather than Elain, but she was unable to form a complaint. Not with the strands of herself still scattered around, though she tried half-heartedly to scoop them up to put herself back together...but she didn’t want to be put together. She wanted to be unravelled with her mate, to return to the quiet stillness of solitude; when it had been just them.

But the plate of cakes and fruit that Nestra returned with was wildly welcome. Elain ate a still-warm vanilla cake in two bites and was halfway through a sliced pear topped with a hard, salty cheese before she realized her sister was still watching her, and with an amused smile on her face. It was rare enough that Nesta be amused, let alone at her, and so Elain swallowed her mouthful and her nerves, clearing her throat.

“You came with Cassian,” she said to make conversation.

“Someone needed to check in on you,” Nesta said. Nodded her head towards the window. “He can report on Azriel, but I knew he wouldn’t see much of you.”

“I’m perfectly well,” Elain repeated.

“Good.”

Slowly, with more decorum now, she layered together pear and cheese atop a cracker dotted with seeds. Took a nibble, though her stomach ached for more, now. Nesta leaned forward, and lifted the iced pitcher she’d brought as well to fill the two cups. Oh, lemonade - how lovely. The staff must be working hard in the kitchens; she’d have to stop by later.

“And how is...everything?” Elain asked carefully, to which Nestra shrugged.

“Everything is as it always is,” she said. “You and Azriel are missed. Some - ” and Nesta rolled her eyes, as if unwilling to name names, “ - have missed your presence as the only two with any sense.”

“I see.”

“Do you know when you’ll return?”

“I don’t know,” Elain said. I don’t want to return, she thought mulishly to herself, but she couldn’t allow herself to be so selfish. Swiping fluffed cream from the top of another cake with the tip of her finger, and sucking it off between her lips. Delicious. She was still starved.

“Has it worn off?” Nesta asked next. Elain felt her cheeks heat at that, but a comforting bit of coolness curl around her throat, as if to stave off her own embarrassment at her sister’s frankness. Or to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

“Azriel says it has,” she said. “But I - I don’t know.”

Nesta nodded, and then her face was split by a sly smile. “The circle has taken wagers on what you gave him to eat,” she said. “Mor suggested it would be a full course meal. And I believe it was Amren that bet on a handful of scallions torn out of a garden.”

“I haven’t had time to prepare a full course meal,” Elain told her, mimicking Nesta’s arch tone perfectly. “Not that it matters, but I gave him a lemon cake.”

Of the food that had been left behind by staff before their timely exit, they’d burned through in less than a day during that initial frenzy. But not so quickly that she hadn’t chosen the plumpest, tenderest cake to slip through Azriel’s lips - he’d been on his knees, then, but she couldn’t recall quite why...Elain nearly choked on a bit of pear as the memory returned from the delicious haze the entire week had become. Ah. That was why.

“We’ll be collecting our winnings, then,” Nesta said, still smiling. “Are you sure you’re well, Elain?”

“I am very well, though if you continue to pester me I might be less well,” Elain said in a testy voice.

“No...questions about...anything?”

“No,” she said, firm and bland, and she was saved from further questioning: a blur of black and angry snarling hurled past the window they sat in front of, drawing their attention as a pot of mums was nearly knocked over on the veranda. The males had come to a stop outside, and Nesta made it to the window before Elain: but it was Azriel that popped up first, his eyes flickering towards her as her belly twisted for something other than food. His hair stuck up on its ends, his cheeks flushed with exertion and a bruise blossoming beneath his chin. His shirt was torn in several places, as if severed by claws.

But it was Cassian, hauling himself up to his feet by clutching a wrought-iron bench, that had clearly come off worse. Nose leaking blood, his arm hanging stiffly as he tried to roll his shoulder. Didn’t stop him from winking at Nesta, though, who harrumphed right back.

Elain’s nose was pressed to the glass as she stared at her mate.

“Thank you for visiting,” she whispered to Nesta. “We’ll - we’ll return soon.”

“Take your time,” Nesta replied. Her book was tucked under her arm again, and lifting her skirts in one hand she made for the door. “I’m glad you’re happy, El.”

But Elain’s eyes were still fixed on Azriel, and his on her. Cassian limped away behind him, to meet Nesta at the door, but Azriel jerked his head in the opposite direction. The back entrance.

It was there that they met in a flurry - his arms open for her, shirt in complete tatters as she pressed herself to him. Not close enough, never close enough...Elain lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him, breathing in the scents of soil and grass that now clung to his skin. He groaned into her mouth, fingers digging into her skirts and the flesh of her buttocks.

“I’ve never seen you like that before,” she breathed. Traced over the planes of his face with her fingertips as he stared hungrily at her. The shadows around him made some effort to fix up his shirt; lifting the shreds as if to cover him. And then gave up to slink away to the corners. “Fight - yes. But...not like that.”

"I'm sorry,” Azriel said at once. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you - "

"You didn't.” Elain held his golden gaze as he went still. Then, a whisper, “I love you."

Immediately she was hauled into his arms, his wings tucking in to make it through the doorway and into the cooler relief of the stone hallway. From here she could hear the clattering activity in the kitchens, and she knew Azriel must be as starving as she’d been, but convincing him to eat would likely be a futile effort.

Sparring Cassian clearly hadn’t depleted him too much, Elain learned. And she learned it on her back, frock rucked up to her waist and her ankles over his shoulders as he stood above her, gripping her hips to thrust into her until she was completely unravelled once more. Just the way she wanted - spilling over the edge with him and uncaring what anyone else thought.

“Again,” Azriel grit through his teeth. Her knuckles were throbbing with pain from clutching the bedsheets, her throat hoarse and dry from the first two climaxes he’d wrung from her. She was limp and soaked, barely even aware of the vulgar, slapping noises they were making. “Again, El. For me. One more time.”

The dominance in his voice brought her back, rekindling the embers that tried to sleep in her veins. Elain whimpered, but couldn’t resist: this release was slower than the others, but sultry and sweet as she met her mate’s gaze - his tousled hair framed by the sunlight coming in through the open balcony doors, the muscles in his chest and arms taut and flexing as he rode her.

“With me,” she whispered, and he dipped his head in a nod before she spun out of control.

Elain was slack head-to-toe when Azriel gently extracted himself - he swore under his breath, but she couldn’t even open her eyes to see what it was: and then she felt her skirts gathered in his hand, wiping down between her legs as she nearly shrieked aloud at how sensitive she was.

He collapsed on the bed beside her, panting, and she turned to face him with a smile. Curling up and around him like his shadows liked to do - and could she blame them? Azriel grinned at her, smoldering gold once more rather than an inferno, and pulled her close. Around their forms his wing rested.

It meant that this was their space, she was coming to learn. And woe to anyone who interrupted them: Cassian had the bruises to prove it. Elain frowned, then, and reached up to touch the purple splotch beneath Azriel’s chin with her fingers. He didn’t flinch, but merely stared at her.

“Will you be alright?” she whispered.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “And...I can face the world again, I suppose.”

“But do you want to?” Elain asked, a smile lifting her tired lips.

“No,” Azriel said at once. “Do you?”

“No, but we’ll have to.”

“But not today.”

“No. Not today.” She smiled, then, and his responding grin was the kind that warmed her from the inside out. “Can we have a bath now?”

“Yes, of course.” Hauling her against his chest, Azriel sat them up with a groan of his own, settling her in his lap at the edge of the bed. “Though it may be worth noting,” he added, some mischief forming in that curl of his mouth. “That no amount of soap is going to wash the scent of me from your skin.”

Elain hummed, smoothing back some of that tangled hair from his forehead. “That’s a relief to hear.”

His eyes blinked, the gold in them nothing short of yearning. An ache in his expression that thrummed painfully through her. Through what lay between them. “You mean it?” Azriel whispered.

“Yes.” Teeth clamped onto her bottom lip, but still she smiled, leaning her forehead against his damp one as he huffed. Laughter, perhaps - or something else.

The squeaking sound of a faucet drew her attention towards the bathing room, the door that led to it wreathed in shadows. “They like baths,” Azriel said by way of explanation. “Bubbles especially.”

“I don’t know why people are afraid of your shadows,” Elain told him. “They’re sweet.”

“To you. They’re fond of you.” He grinned, teeth flashing. “Lady Shadowsinger.”

She laughed at that, and he stood with her still in his arms. Around them his wings fluttered and flared as he carried them to their bath, and Elain rested her head against his tattooed chest.

Lady Shadowsinger.

She liked it.

#elriel #azriel x elain #acotar #elrielmonth #elain archeron

174 notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

smoke and fire (13)

word count; 14,463

summary; in the aftermath of an unusual rescue, some big revelations come to pass.

notes; y’all are gonna hate me but love me.

warnings; descriptive gore, gun use, reference to death, violence, gang activity, reference to drug use, reference to arson, reference to house fires, main character injury.

It was a known fact that it took three whole seconds in the morning before you could process where you were, and remember anything other than your own name.

That first second was spent in a quickly disseminated state of serenity. Your head wasn’t yet hurting, and you eased back into consciousness with a slow start, the darkness surrounding you oddly reminiscent, but the chilling cold and the damp was less so.

The second was when panic rushed through your system. Your throat felt blocked as you came back to consciousness, the pain in your head came crashing back over you like a crushing tidal wave, the blood rushing on your head as coughs racked your body, trying to take a deeper breath, and panic filled you.

The third second made you roll onto your side, spluttering a little as pain throbbed behind your eyes and your head was spinning, making you feel like you were falling for just a second, before your nails were scraping at the material underneath you as you tried to sit up, everything along your body screaming out in agony and almost giving out with your weakness. It wasn’t soft cotton like your sheets, it was gritty like stone, tearing at your nails.

And then, you remembered.

You remembered exactly where you were, and what had happened, and why you were here. Well, that part was still a little fuzzy, you’d never really been given a reason. The pain in your body made sense, the dull throbbing in one eardrum more than the other and the shock of residual adrenaline left in your sore body that was beginning to make a resurgence in your fear, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The familiar burn of tears in your throat as a lump formed and the stinging of salt in your eyes as they threatened to fall, and then you found the strength to sit up, to blink and clear dust-filled eyes a little more, before wiping a hand over your face to get rid of it all. There wasn’t much light where you were, but there was a clear spot of musty-yellow lighting in the centre of the room, your body curled in the corner, dumped in uncomfortable positions that made your legs ache, and there was a figure you recognised leaning over the table.

Covered in blood, frantic, brown eyes fixed on you that glittered under the low light, you swallowed thickly.

“Nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty. Think ya’ can come give me a hand over here?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece the puzzle together, but then there was a clicking that made you jump unnecessarily violently in fear, the memory of the last time you’d heard it flashing behind your eyes like a scene from a movie. Newt was panicked, but clearly trying to stay calm, his eyes widening just a fraction in a messaged for only you to hear, and despite the pain you felt, you forced yourself to your feet.

Your bag was weighing you down, medical supplies rattling, and you stumbled on feet that you could barely feel until your hands were braced on the edge of the table, and you could see what was going on a little better.

A gunshot victim, at least four bullet wounds, two packed with gauze that was rapidly soaking through as Newt had pressure on two others; swapping between them frantically if the pile of blood-sodden gauze on the floor was anything to go by. You assumed from the recognisable tattoo on the other half of this mans face too that he was a part of whatever gang this was, and clearly, an important member if they were willing to commit these kinds of crimes to save his life.

“You got more gauze, ‘cus I’m running out, and I could use your help getting him fixed up before we both end up looking like him.”

His words were low and whispered, and you gaped as you stared at the man. “This guy needs a hospital, and a team of professional medical surgeons. Like, Derek! Or, Dr Lahey! We aren’t trained for this!”

“Yeah, well, we’re all he's got.” Newt huffed, a spit of blood leaving the unnamed man’s body between Newt’s gloved fingers as he tried to shift his weight, a whispered curse from his lips as he tried to stop the flow again.

You nodded, swallowing thickly and squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to quell the pain bouncing around the inside of your skull. You assessment the scene, noting the Newt really hadn't been able to do much, and thankfully, if the change in the daylight outside was anything to go by then you had only been out for an hour or so, maybe a little longer, light still coming in between the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

The man in the corner was slumped in his chair, gun sitting beside him on the table, and your heart was racing so fast that the headache you sported was only getting worse. Your voice felt raw and hoarse as you tried to speak on it, squeaking and cracking the first time you tried to speak in anything above a whisper.

“We’re gonna’ need some water over here, boiled if you can to stop an infection, but even just bottled water would do at this point.” The man sitting on the chair stopped his rocking, the groaning of the seat against the concrete pausing, and you jumped as the front two legs slammed back down onto the floor. He stared at you for a moment, analysing you, before giving in, wandering over to the door and undoing a heavy deadbolt to open it up, never turning his back to the two of you and keeping his gaze locked with yours before throwing a demand for bottled water over his shoulder.

There was scuffling, various sounds of movement on the other side and you assumed there would be multiple people, before the door was closing once again, and the grating sound of metal was making itself knowing again in such a piercing scream along the lock that you shivered, wincing at the chill it gave you, stomach twisting.

“All right, this is a fucking mess.”

“You don’t say, love.” Newt grunted, a soft laugh falling from him as you opened up your bag, hands shaking as you tore it roughly, the zip ricocheting along its tracks to expose the contents to you. A fresh pair of gloves, and two of the strongest painkillers you could find that you forced yourself to choke down dry, and then you were attempting to focus.

Your scissors came first, chopping around Newt’s hands as best you could to remove the sodden clothing that covered his body to expose blood-smeared and frayed skin, torn from bullet wounds and bruised from the bleeding under the skin. Pushing the fabric aside, Newt pressed down a piece of gauze that was turning redder from pink by the moment, no white left on it, and the colour of his skin was beginning to turn sickly pale.

Grabbing for your flashlight, you noticed it was gone, left nowhere on your bag and missing from your person, patting down every pocket, before your partner simply huffed. “I wanted to do a trauma exam, except my torch is on my keys, too, and they took those a while ago because they have things that could be used as a weapon on them.”

“What, like my star-shaped plushie keyring?”

“Apparently.” You rolled your eyes, reaching a hand up to the lamp overhead, and tapping your fingers against the metal, hissing at the heat building up along the cover of the lamp, but deciding it would have to do. It wasn’t ideal, and it wouldn't give results all that accurate, but if there wasn’t any functioning or reaction at all, then there was no point in doing this at all, because the bleeding in his torso wouldn’t be the bleeding that would kill him.

Grabbing onto the stem instead, you covered his eyes with one hand, adjusting the lamp to sit a little differently, holding it over his head. Moving your hand back quickly, you lifted his eyelid, his pupil sluggish in his movements, but there was definitely a reaction, and you let out a little breath of relief. One more thing you could deal with. Checking the other eye, just to be certain, you got much the same reaction, not a speed you were overall happy with, but certainly better than nothing. This guy really had seen the worst of it, there was swelling along his jaw, cut and battered, a blackish bruise forming above his cheekbone and burst blood vessels in the same eye, and that was just his face.

He was coated in blood, and you couldn't tell whether it was his or someone else’s, some dried and other patches still oozing, body marred with bruises and cuts, both old and fresh, most of which were unrelated to the gunshot wounds he had. A fist came banging on the door, just in time, water bottles being handed through when it was cracked open a fraction, and there was only six of them by your count, eyes flittering over the sealed packets of water that hadn't even been opened, and you’d have to stretch it to make it last.

“How’s your leg?”

“Better than this guy, he has a bullet in his thigh.” The joke was to brush off his own pain, but for the past couple of minutes, he’d been shuffling his weight from one foot to another, and you glanced around, noting the box that was sitting only a few feet away. The unidentified man set to guard the two of you was coming over, the door sealed up tight once again and the packet of water in his hands.

“Can you put them down on the box? We could use the extra surface?”

He paused, glancing at it, considering the request, before agreeing. Silently, albeit, he accepted your request, dropping the bottles down onto it and kicking the crate across the floor to you, wooden container scraping over the stonework and bumping against your leg roughly, and you tried not to glare at him as your leg buckled.

A coppery taste filled your mouth as you licked over your bottom lip, wincing at the slight pain of the cut, swollen and sore, but not as much as the pain along your forehead, a cut you assumed you gained on the drive here. “So, first up, we need to try and stitch up those holes.”

“If I let go of these cuts, he’ll lose a lot of blood.”

“I know. We can work fast, but I need you to do the stitching, because I’m not sure I’m up to it right now.” You held your hands up, the uncontrollable trembling taking you over was far too violent to be able to do sutures, but you could definitely hold down pressure. Newt nodded, your hands closing over his, the squeeze of cold blood between your fingers from the gauze making you gag slightly, choking down that feeling of nausea.

His hands slipped out from underneath your own, and you pressed down the second they were gone, the man underneath you groaning under his breath as he constantly walked the border between conscious and unconscious. As you held down, Newt reached across his body, snatching up the first of the water bottles. Unscrewing the lid and placing it down, he left the cap beside it, before he was shuffling through his bag.

Pulling out the kit with needles and thread in, your emergency stitches kit that you’d ever actually to use in the field, and you were having flashbacks and pinpricks of pain along the tips of your fingers as you remembered practising the stitches in the academy, constantly poking your fingers with the metal thread.

The strongest antiseptic followed, dark brown liquid in a half-empty container sloshing against the sides, and it dripped across the edges, spilling a little in his haste, before he was diluting it in the first bottle. Lid back on, shaking it to mix, the once drinkable water turned a murky brown colour, and your eyes were stinging a little front he still open bottle letting strong fumes out into the air.

“I’m thinking chest, stomach, stomach, thigh.”

“Should probably elevate his legs if you wanna’ go thigh last, it’s pretty close to his femoral.” Newt nodded, glancing around, before realising there wasn’t much for the two of you to work with.

“Alright, chest, thigh, stomach?”

“I guess.” You mumbled, none of the odds being in either of your favours, and you watched as your partner pressed his fingers down against the pulse in the man’s neck, frowning at what he found and holding the position down for longer than what was good, the results silently given to you simply by the actions. “Do you need me to push the cut shut so you can stitch?”

“I do, but if you let go of those other ones, he’ll bleed out.”

You gnawed a little on your lower lip, fear and panic building once again, because every slip this man made closer to death, he was dragging both you and Newt with him. The words hadn't been specifically spoken, nothing was clear, but you could read between the lines, and if this man didn’t survive the day, then neither would you and Newt.

You didn’t know what had happened to him, you didn’t want to. Whatever kind of illegal activities, gang territory fight or simply men wreaking havoc upon one another had caused this, you wanted no more part of it than keeping him alive long enough to hope that you and your friend might get out of this situation. The hand under your heart thudded a little more violently as he surfaced back into total consciousness once again, a gasping breath followed by sputtering, fresh red bubbling in his spit as he tried to clear the blood that was pooling in his throat, before an agonising sound was leaving him.

“What the hell are you doing to him?”

You jumped at the loud voice, yelling from across the room and the gun clicked again, the sound a threat that made your entire body stiffen painfully, nails digging into the mains chest as your hands tried to ball themselves into fists.

“We’re trying to save his bloody life!” Newt yelled back, and you gasped, eyes widening a little, because if the two of you had already learned anything from talking back to these people it was the risk of a ruptured eardrum and a killer headache. Clearly, this wasn’t the same man who’d taken you hostage, the rasp in his voice a little different and this man simply grunted at the pair of you disdainfully, rolling his eyes and shuffling in his seat beside the door.

“Alright, what if we use the bags for weight? It’s not ideal, but if we work quickly, I can hold one shut while the bags put some pressure on the other two, and I can hold it shut.”

The blond before you flicked his eyes over everything, fiddling with the tools as he toyed with the tweezers he had retrieved, wiping them down as best he could with some tissue dipped in the antiseptic water. “This guy is so gonna’ fucking die.” He whispered, and you couldn't help the chuckle that left you, swaying on your feet a little as you did, the rush of a chemical other than adrenaline being overwhelming.

“Well, we’re all he’s got.” You repeated his words back to him, a cheeky flash of white teeth in a smile that was gone as fast as it came, before you were shaking your head and refocusing on the task at hand, chasing away anything else you might be feeling in the moment. Daring to free one hand from his thigh, you watched the rapid spurts of blood that came free, trickling over his trousers to the table below, before you were putting your bag down on top. You couldn't see much, whether or not it was even working, but it was the best chance the two of you had.

Newt copied your action, placing his bag down over the wounds on his stomach, much like you had done, giving the two of you the chance to focus on the wound on his chest.

Taking the disinfectant from his hand and pressing down a cotton pad over the end, you soaked the small white ball in the liquid, packing it into the wound as Newt tried to clear the area to see what he was doing, but really, it was only smearing the blood around further. You could clean him up and do a better job of it later, but the first thing you needed to do was get the blood flow under control and wash off the antiseptic once it was clean.

You pinched the hole shut, temporarily stopping the floor, beads of red pooling at the corners, and Newt spilt water over the tops of your fingers, the cold feeling making you shiver, because despite the freezing temperatures in whatever kind of warehouse you are trapped inside of, the layer of clammy sweat coating your skin was hiding you from the chill. Once you could see what you were doing, Newt sighed, taking the tweezers in one hand, and nodding his head.

“Push up around the edges to stop the bullet slipping, I should be able to get it pretty quick. I was good at this part.”

“You scare me a little, why the fuck were you a bullet removal prodigy?” He shrugged, winking a little and holding the metal tongs over the wound, before nodding his head once. Slipping your fingers out of the way, you pressed down around the edges, blood spurting up again but you pressed down, stopping the bullets from shifting as Newt pushed into the man's chest through the hole already made. There was a scarcely audible sound, one deaf to the untrained ear but like sirens to a paramedic, the cling of the tips of the needle against the tip of the bullet, and newt shifted his fingers a little.

Letting the metal open back up from where he’d squeezed them closed like a bullet, the edges of the hole stretched around the expanding metal, and an intense look of concentration took over Newt’s face, not even looking at the wound but staring at the wall behind you, looking right through it as he operated purely on instinct and the touch as he felt his way through it. He let out a victorious little noise, pulling back, and as he did, he brought out the shell of a bullet, one that looked to be homemade, though that didn’t exactly surprise you, and it let out a much louder clanging as he dropped it back down onto a metal tray beside the victim’s head.

You moved instantly, the second that it was pulled back you were pushing your thumb and forefinger back up against the edges of the cut to contain the bleeding. Holding it tightly, Newt picked up the next set of his equipment, an atraumatic needle, one of ten and you hoped he was as good as he boasted being because you only had ten between you both, and you’d need two per wound with the length of these wires to seal them up tight enough.

You watched, carefully, as Newt threaded the first of the holes through the wound, pulling it out of the other side with the tweezers, and beginning to tie a series of surgical knots to keep them closed. He gave it a test tug, the skin pulling as he did, but it didn’t rip or tear, neither the wire nor the flesh, a solid base with which he could work. Beginning to sow him up further, Newt moved in steady motions, each gap only two millimetres apart at the maximum, pulling them tightly enough to stop the blood flow and allow tissue repair to began, but not enough that it would tear at the inevitable strain it would undergo when it was done up.

As soon as she was halfway through, attaching a new thread to continue with, and the wound was getting closer to being shut, allowing you to move your fingers out of his way, a slight breath escaping you as your breathing hitched each time the needle or thread came too close to you, because the last thing you needed right now was to get an infection from someone else’s blood and a dingy warehouse, or to lose time on this man’s life by having to start disinfecting everything all over again.

As he sealed it up, he pulled all of the threads a little tighter, working his way along to make sure the thread was evenly distributed, before fastening up the thread. He pulled back, the both of you waiting with bated breath to see whether blood would come free or whether they would bust open once your fingers moved, and while they pulled tautly, they never broke or tore.

You flooded with relief, Newt letting out a mix between a chuckle and a sigh, relief overlaying it all, and you took just a second of reprieve to know that you were just one step closer to this all being over. Opening your mouth, you weren’t sure what was coming, words of gratitude and accomplishment sitting on your tongue, aimed at any kind of higher power that might be watching over the two of you right now, but your partner beat you to it.;

“Let’s check the bag wounds.”

You nodded your head, swallowing back whatever you were going to say, beginning to feel a little dizzy as your head spun, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, containing the way you were feeling. Lifting away the bag that was sitting over his thigh, you were both surprised and impressed that the bag method had held reasonably well. There was more blood than there would be if you’d held it yourself, but you could work with what you had, and as your eyes flicked to where Newt was checking his stomach, you found similar results. Your gut was twisting again, bile rising in your throat at the sight of the blood in various places, an unusual phenomenon as blood had never bothered you before, and you turned away, gagging as vomit threatened to make itself known, and you tried not to clap a blood-soaked hand over your mouth, the thought only sickening you further.

“Woah, you alright?” You gagged, dry heaving a few more times as you tried to keep back the vomit that was on the verge of making itself known, tears lining your eyes and heat flooding over your cheeks as everything within you threatened to let go, but you managed to keep a lid on it. “The fuck was that?”

“I don’t know. I’m fine. Just aftershock, I think. Hunger, too, maybe, been a long time since I had anything real to eat, I think my body is just all fucked up right now.” His eyes narrowed on you, but he nodded, accepting the answer because the two of you needed to focus on things that were more important.

Once you had suppressed your nausea, you were picking the scissors back up, Newt resetting and disinfecting the equipment once again as you cut away at a patch of the ruined jeans the man was wearing. The denim was stiff while wet, and you struggled to cut it, your fingers aching as the metal of the handles pressed into the edges of your fingers, and you released a breath as you were holding as it was finished. Wiping down the area and packing the hole with disinfectant to make sure it was clean.

The procedure between the two of you started up again, only a second later you were pinching the wound shut, waiting for Newt to extract the bullet before moving to knot the thread and begin to fasten the stitches. It felt like time was coming to a stop while also speeding along, your fingers moving to the pulse point on his neck to monitor how it was going, counting the beats you could feel and trying to remember how light it felt so each period check would reveal whether it grew stronger or weaker.

You felt like the clock was ticking by too fast, every time you glanced up to the musty glass barrier hanging over the door seemed like it was spinning by at double speed, the hand constantly moving in starling jumps around the clock, the shadows in the room growing more pronounced and sharp as the sun moved across the sky, the light becoming duller as the one hanging over you both seemed to become brighter, and you watched Newt work.

As a team, you stitched him up, making sure that each wound was sealed up tightly and that they wouldn't burst, the pair of you physically exhausted. You could see the ache in Newt’s leg, he’d given up on even trying to hide it a while ago, as the two of you had moved onto the third bullet hole, all of his weight sitting on his good leg as he balanced barely anything on the bad one. Four bullets were sitting in a row, lined up neatly beside his head, and you let out a sigh, scrubbing over his skin carefully to wipe up the traces of blood.

Once he’d been stable enough, you checked his vision again, his reaction times having increased by a fraction of a second, but it was enough to mark an improvement, and his pulse was picking up with both strength and speed. You could see the bruises and cuts along his skin more clearly once you’d wiped him down of excess blood, littered with marks that would fade, only the bullet holes to turn pinkish-purple with scar tissue eventually, to join all of the other battle wounds along his flesh. Various tattoos to match the symbols on his face were across his body, and you made sure to treat every single cut, not wanting to leave anything up to chance, your body screaming out in protest as your adrenaline died down, and exhaustion was crawling in.

You were overwhelmed, tears building in your eyes, and Newt mentioned nothing as a few fell free, because you were sure that at some point - perhaps before you’d surfaced back to consciousness all that time ago - that he would have done the same. The situation was terrifying and you were struggling to process it all, every thought you had was like a swirling hurricane, melded with every other thought and emotion you were feeling, leaving you hopeless to process your thoughts but just lay rampant to them.

Anxiety was spiking through your system, choking it down by focusing on the methodical cleaning of the man, but eventually, there was nothing left to do. Fresh gauze and bandages were stark in comparison to his sickly-coloured skin, wrapped neatly and tightly and finally staying crisp and clean as you had everything under control, and your legs were threatening to buckle. You packed away slowly, stepping back from the table, and removing your gloves to join the scattered piles of medical waste that covered the floor and the edges of the workspace.

Newt didn’t even bother to put things back properly, to look after the equipment, he simply dropped it all inside, doing the zip up enough to hold it shut, before it was dangling from his fingers by the straps, and you followed suit.

Noting the movements, the man in the chair stood, his movements slightly wobbly from how long he’d been sat down, and you realised how long must have passed. As he approached, he kicked one of the empty bottles aside, all six used to the last drop for cleaning and disinfecting, and he pulled the gun from his waistband, making sure his finger was over the trigger in case either you or Newt made an attempt to pull something.

Not that you had any chance, there was a pile of everything that could possibly be used as a weapon over on the table beside where he had been guarding.

“He’ll live?”

You raised your hands, folding them behind your head in a symbol of your cooperation as he turned to you, and you tried not to sway too much in your weakness, simply nodding your head to him, and swallowing thickly. “He’ll need to keep those wounds clean, you can take the stitches out in about a month, or longer, wait until they start to form flesh for a scar but take them out before the skin gets too puffy.”

He nodded his head before lifting the gun up a little higher, motioning to the bag you held, and you trembled, his finger flexing a little on the trigger. “Whatever we’re going to need to keep it clean. Get it out. Put it on the table here, and then walk over to the wall until your back is pressed to it.”

You lifted the bag slowly, the dragging of the zip over the metal was all that field the room, tense silence taking over before you were reaching inside, daring to take your eyes off of the man and quell your fear to be able to reach inside. Pulling out both the diluted and undiluted bottles, you hoped he didn’t notice the lack of canister spray you’d left at the scene, your mind suddenly becoming aware of the life you’d left hanging in the balance, and wondering whether he’d survived.

By now, the shift at the firehouse would have been over, and you did not doubt that a missing persons case would have been filed for you and Newt, the abandoned ambulance after over an hour of no check-in would lead them to know something had happened, but you didn’t know how long it would take to find you, or if they even could.

Placing the bottles, spare bandages and wraps, as well as some painkillers down on the table, you stepped back, fastening your bag up.

“He’ll be in a fair amount of pain for a while, they should last two weeks, he can’t take any more than two a day, or else he’ll OD.”

The man nodded, motioning backwards toward the shadowed walls, and you stepped back slowly, Newt following when his command was given, and his hands were held up into the air too, both of you proceeding with caution.

While one danger had dissipated, another was making itself known, the purpose of being brought here was over, you and Newt had served your purpose, and if the man asking for supplies and advice was anything to go on, it meant that either they planned to let you go or planned to kill you, because you clearly wouldn't be sticking around to follow through on a treatment plan.

Once your back hit the wall, you stilled, Newt coming to stand beside you. The door was unlocked, several more men coming in, and the four of them all lifted their comrade carefully, carrying him out, and the door slammed shut behind them, leaving you both in cold silence. This area of the room seemed even colder than that of your impromptu operating theatre had, the shadows creating a drop in temperature, but you were simply too tired to care anymore.

Your head was still throbbing, your eyes felt heavy each time you tried to hold them open, the adrenaline and fear in the situation had been all that had helped to even keep you awake, and you rolled your head from side to side, trying to ease the pain in your neck.

Newt followed beside you, your legs pulled up before you as his stretched out, your bags abandoned together between your bodies, and your head came to rest on his shoulder, a heavy sigh let out.

“I think you have a concussion.”

You chuckled, but it was dry and humourless, simply a sound made to fill the silence and bush him off, but he wasn’t accepting that answer. His hand closed over yours, lacing your fingers together comfortingly and squeezing tightly, and you did your best to squeeze him back just as firmly. “I don’t have a concussion, I just have a headache.”

“Yeah.” He hummed, and you thought for a second, you may actually have won an argument with him. “But you also have nausea, you passed out, you’re a little confused, you’re weak on your feet and you can barely stand up straight.”

“It’s a-”

“You say aftershock and I’ll slap you.” He teased, a genuine laugh leaving you this time, and your shoulders rose and fell with a shrug. “When we get out of here, w-”

“If.”

“When we get out of here,” His voice was a little firmer, commanding you to have as much faith as he did, “Will you please just get it checked out? Just to make me feel better.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes behind closed lids, and groaning when he jostled his shoulder to wake you back up to the fullest alertness you could muster. “Fine! Fine, when we get out of here, I’ll get it checked out.”

Silence encased you both, darkness taking over, and the man who’d been tasked with guarding you both returned, taking his seat again and setting up to play on his phone from the second that he was comfortable, and you waited. He said nothing, not noticing the stare both you and Newt had fixed on him, your heart sinking as he remained quiet. The longer his lack of information dragged on, the more you felt doom beginning to sweep over.

The fact that he had nothing to say to you both screamed volumes into the void. There were no threats to keep your mouths shut, or looming promises of what would happen if you exposed the group’s location, or even any information on when you’d be leaving, and it seemed that they had no intention to let you go at all.

As you wiggled a little against the concrete, butt becoming numb from the stone underneath you, your legs stretched out to match your partners, and your eyes closed. You were fading away again, drifting towards sleep as it called out to you, the spinning of the room, the dizziness that was bordering on vertigo and the nausea with the headache, it all seemed to lessen as you slipped from consciousness.

Newt was talking to you, forcing you to stay just enough awake that you didn’t drift completely, but you weren’t processing what he was saying, the words just becoming background noise that disturbed you from being able to slumber, but you suspected that was the whole point. He wasn’t talking about anything important, he was telling you his mother’s recipes and the time he once went to buy new work shoes but almost walked out of the store while wearing an un-purchased pair because he was so tired from a double shift.

You missed the banging in the other rooms, you missed the actions taking place, barely roused by the sudden shaking your body felt, and you only snapped back to consciousness when you felt hands on your body. You kicked roughly, Newt barely avoiding the blow as all the pain you’d felt came flooding back over you in shockwaves, making you shudder violently at the surge of pain and nausea, before you were blinking at the dull lighting in the room.

“Stick with me, love. Tommy would kill me if we had to take you to the hospital after the final hurdle because I couldn’t keep you awake.”

“Oh, shut up.” Your words were slurred, and you shook your head, eyes squeezing closed at the throbbing taking place behind them. “You’d love that, I’m surprised you haven’t sacrificed me for a trip to the ER yet, anything to see Dr Derek in his lab coat, right?”

Pink flushed his cheeks, his eyes flickering over to the door, and he leaned in a little, hugging you tightly and shaking you enough to jolt energy through your body, a groan on your lips as he did. “Something is going on outside, and I never pass up a chance for an I-told-you-so!”

“A what?” You questioned, confusion still washing over you, but you never got a chance for an answer. The sound of a bullet pinging against metal was so sharp that it left another ringing in your ears as you cupped your hands over the sides of your head just a second too late. Newt did the same, falling away from shock with a grunt, and the man beside the door was in a little more agony at his close proximity to the sound.

You blinked blurry vision clear, watching smoke curl up from the lock, before the heavy metal door was falling open. It was a uniform you recognised, one of the police members you’d already seen much of over the last few cases, your brows raising a little as you watched them enter. You kept your hands over your ears, at least two more shots reverberating through the air and you felt them more than you heard them, body feeling the impact and breath feeling knocked from your lungs at the vibrations over the airwaves.

It was all like a dream, detached from reality as you were pulled to your feet by an officer, Newt’s hand dropping away from yours and you stumbled, feelings as though your movements weren’t your own. As you were guided through the halls, you tried to remember some of it, any of it, but everything you saw and heard seemed to be going in one ear and out the other.

Flashing blue lights outside with wailing sirens signalled the police cars, and several men around you were all being arrested, pinned down face first and snarling as they were cuffed, but you didn’t have enough energy to feel intimidated right now.

The fresh air was a shock, like plunging into water below the freezing point, and you took a sudden and gasping inhale, coming to a full stop, and everything out of focus suddenly went into overdrive. As you stepped out of the building the haze seemed to drop away, and you took another lungful of the air, panting breaths as you tried to fill your lungs with the source of oxygen, a panic attack building as you finally let everything cup back through, and gentle hands were guiding you to an ambulance.

You recognised the paramedics waiting inside, they were friendly as they greeted you by name and you recognised them from another case, perhaps the one on the bridge or at the chemical plant, you weren’t too sure, but it didn’t matter. An oxygen mask was placed over your face, fresh breaths of air racing through your lungs on a steady distribution that forced your breathing to even out, and you were grateful for it, not wanting to break down until you were curled up in your own bed tonight.

You winced at the flashlight that flickered over your eyes, stars in your eyes flashing for a second as you blinked to clear them, and while the paramedic around you shuffled within their own devices, you shifted yourself slightly on the stretcher, turning to stare out at the collections of cars instead, trying to see more than just the inside of the ambulance.

You searched for Newt, unable to find his blond hair for a good few minutes, before finally, you spotted him. Messy mop head in a far corner, beside a collection of cars that didn't belong to the public services, but instead to the members of the public services.

He was wrapped up tightly in his best friend's arms, Thomas patting his back comfortingly, as Minho all but bounced with excitement at his side. Brenda was leaning on her car, and Gally was standing beside them, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. They were all in casual clothing, clearly having changed since the end of their shift had rocked around so long ago, the night sky closing in overhead as the day was being chased away, and you took another deep breath through the mask, smiling again.

Just the sight of your team was reassuring, to know they’d found you, they’d come to collect you, to make sure you were okay, and your heart thumped steadily and surely in confirmation that you needed their comfort right now. They were talking, Newt using a lot of hand gestures and while you couldn't tell much about their features, you knew they’d all be flickering from amusement to confusion to horror. Newt was quite the storyteller, at any time, no matter the trauma.

They turned, Newt pointing over to the ambulance you were within, and you raised a hand to wave to your friend as you watched all of their attentions move to you, before the paramedic before you was summoning your attention once again. You turned to her, the call of your name snapping you to the moment, and as much as you didn't want to look away from them all, you knew you’d be reunited with them soon enough.

“Well, you definitely have a concussion.” She confirmed, and you pouted, taking a final deep breath from the oxygen mask, and then taking it off.

“Newt is going to live for the ‘I-told-you-so’.” You scowled, and she seemed to come into more focus within your memory now. You remembered her, she had been there at the chemical plant, she’d been new at the time, a trainee, fresh out of the academy and on one of her first cases, and you’d tried to comfort her about the card system, making sure to navigate as many red cards away from her as you could to make a hard day just a little easier.

She grinned, handing you a plastic cup with some tablets inside, and a bottle of water, with the lid already unscrewed. “I’ll spare you the medical analysis, I’m sure you know what to do.” You only nodded, taking both from her gratefully and tipping the pills onto your tongue, before following them with a gulp of water, and taking them down eagerly. “Two painkillers to keep the headaches and muscle soreness at bay, as well as the nausea.”

“As much as I’d love to chat, I’m going to have to rain-check. Am I good to go? I’m desperate to just get home.”

She chuckled, nodding, and you stood up, still feeling a little unsteady and lightheaded, but it was beginning to get easier. Giving her a final thanks, and climbing down from the van, you closed the doors up for her, banging on the back when they were sealed up, and she gave a thumbs up from inside of the window, before sorting everything out and preparing for their journey back.

Turning around, there was a body directly behind you, and you cursed loudly while jumping, eyes trailing up from a familiar chest to his face and raising a brow as warm honey-coloured eyes stared at you. “Fuck, Tommy, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sneak up on someone who’d been freshly rescued after an abduction? We tend to be jumpy.”

He grinned, shaking his head a little at your words, before your own smile was following. His hands came up, cupping your cheeks, and you leaned into the warmth that his palms brought over the cold skin of your face, sagging a little at his touch. “I have a lot of questions, but the main one is; are you okay? I just need to know you’re alright, and everything else can wait.”

“I’m okay, Tommy, I promise. A little battered and bruised, but hey, what’s new?” He rolled his eyes softly, a yawn following on your lips as you covered it, not missing the fond look he held as he continued to stare, eyes sweeping over your features. You waited for a second longer, before nudging one of your feet forward to bump your toes against his, your brows raising a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just really fucking worried about you.” He whispered, eyes dropping down a little, fixing on your lips, and licked over his own. His hands fell further down, sitting over your jaw and he dragged a thumb across your lips a little, your mouth pouting instinctually as he did, and his lips flicked up at the edges, never taking his gaze from where his finger was resting. “Chasing after you is like being on a damn rollercoaster.”

“How’s that?” You mumbled, breath clouding in the cold air slightly but the words were whispered, and his lashes tickled against your cheek as he shifted to bump his nose against yours, dragging them together slowly, his lips pressing to his own finger on the other side.

“Exciting, addictive, a total rush, but a little scary right at the big drop.”

You brought a hand up, sitting over his cheek, his head tipping into your hand, and his thumb slipped away, leaving nothing between you to stop you from being able to taste the overly sweetened coffee on his breath that he drank whenever he got worried. “Don’t kiss me yet.”

“Why not? It’s me and you, and now I know you’re okay, and I just really want to.” He teased you, pushing in enough to trace his lips very gently against your own, sparks of electricity shooting along you at the fleeting brush that you could still feel but wasn’t enough to be a kiss, but already left you wanting more. “If you don’t give me a reason soon, I’m gonna’ kiss you breathless, and they’ll need to put you back on that oxygen mask.”

You let out a soft breath, an airy laugh, before finding the strength to pull back by a fraction. “I have a concussion.”

He snapped back, eyes wide and brows furrowing so tightly you thought he'd get permanent perry lines, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “You said you were fine! You little liar!”

“I am fine!” You took his hands, pulling them away from your face and weaving your fingers with his on both sides, before rocking up on your tiptoes, and pressing your lips to his lower cheek, hearing him whine a little at the near-miss kiss. “I’m just a little woozy, and tired, and shaken up.”

“You promise that’s all?”

“I swear.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your own cheek in return as he respected your boundaries. “If you can set rules for our first kiss, then so can I. I want to be at my peak when we do, I don’t want anything to spoil it, I want to remember it perfectly, and not have such a killer headache, preferably.”

“I can live with that. We’ll wait. For now.” You nodded your head, foreheads resting together once again, and your eyes closed, simply soaking in how it felt to be surrounded by him, before a loud and exaggerated clearing of the throat was breaking you apart, and Brenda stood with her hands on her hips, a wicked smirk on her face as she stared at you both.

“Do we get any greetings, or do we not matter anymore? Because I was kinda’ worried about you too.”

You grinned, the woman who you were proud to call your best friend was holding her arms out for you, and you dropped Thomas’ hands, feeling him let you go and step back just as quickly now that everyone else had come over, and you wrapped her up in your arms as she squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side. Another pair of arms wrapped around you, and you grinned as the familiar smell of your partner’s aftershave overwhelmed your senses, the man clinging to you from the back as he wrapped his arms around the both of you.

Minho followed, a wicked grin on his face as he draped himself across Brenda’s back, squeezing all of you even tighter, and Thomas followed beside Newt, Gally and Fry coming next, until you couldn’t see out past the mass of bodies that had joined, feeling as though you were in the middle of a rugby scrummage and you could barely breathe, the laughter you were letting out doing nothing to help.

Eventually, Brenda was elbowing the men back, letting you slip free when they all backed away, and you missed all of their body heats, wrapping your arms a little tighter around yourself to keep warm All you had was the thin material of your uniform shirt, soaked in blood and clammy sweat, as well as various medicines and chemicals, with a vest underneath. It was doing little against the cold of the night closing in, twilight well past as stars started to make themselves known.

You shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, wondering how Newt wasn’t feeling the cold, but he was excitedly retelling the tale already of the surgery the two of you had been forced to perform, a story that would last him for ages, no doubt, but it was his way of processing the trauma; to turn it into something he was proud to remember instead of something he was scared to think about, something that made him feel bold instead of terrified, and you wanted to support that, so you kept your mouth shut.

Stepping back over to Thomas, his gaze left his best friend, flicking down to you, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, and raising a brow when you tugged his arm out of his pocket. He let you, his arm limp in your hold as he let you guide him, a soft pink flushing his cheeks as you tucked yourself under his arm, your cheek moving to rest on his shoulder, your hands tucking into his pocket and one set of fingers weaving with the fingers of his that were still inside. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before turning to look up at him as his arm squeezed around you a little more tightly.

There was a grin on his face, one with a hidden meaning as he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain it. “You know, Newt is gonna’ give us shit for cuddling.” His fingers were moving over your back in slow patterns, large palm rubbing slowly and transferring warmth back to you where you were chilled to the bone.

“I don’t care. I’m fucking cold, and you’re nice and warm.” You moved, face pressing into him a little further, the rest of your words becoming muffled, and he chuckled.

“Well, in that case,” He simply rested his chin on the top of your head, freeing up his other arm to hold you more securely, and letting out a slow breath that became a slight yelp as you pressed cold hands under the edge of his hoodie to sit on warm skin, grinning cheekily at the scowl that formed as you did. “Is any of the story Newt is telling actually true?”

“Surprisingly, most of it.”

“Well, which p-” He was cut off, the gruff clearing of a throat making him fall silent, and you pulled back, slightly embarrassed as heat made itself known along your cheeks when you found the police officer to be looking for you, the rest of the squad falling silent too and all turning to look at you, following the officer’s gaze, and you untangled yourself from Thomas.

“Sorry to interrupt you all. I just need your statement, ma’am, it’ll only take a moment.”

“You haven’t given your statement yet?” Newt quizzed, clicking his tongue in a tutting fashion, and you stuck your tongue out a little bit at him.

“You still haven’t been checked out by a paramedic yet?” You mocked, his amused face falling as he mock-glared at you, Minho pinching his arm as he tried to insist he was perfectly fine, his friend telling him otherwise.

“I’ll meet you over by that car in a moment, it’ll only take a few minutes to get your statement.” You nodded, the policeman giving you a polite smile, before tapping his pen against the pad in his hand and wandering away to the vehicle.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Lips brushed against your ear, making you jump a little, and you turned back to face the man behind you, your lieutenant standing back up to his full height as you did, and raising his brows.

“No, I want you to take Newt over to an ambulance and force him to get a check-up. He’s more than happy to diagnose me, but he won’t do a self-diagnosis.” Thomas laughed, a hearty and full sound, and you assumed there were memories flashing behind his eyes of a childhood full of similar circumstances. “I’ll come and meet you over by the cars afterwards. I’m going to need a lift home, y’know..”

His hand came up, tucking away stray hairs behind your ear, and nodding his head. “I was already planning on that, don’t worry.” You smiled, head ducking a little, and you tensed up a little at the clenching in your gut again, fearing it was another bout of nausea rising, but instead, your stomach rumbled, loudly. There was a snicker, hidden in your hairline, and your lips pursed, a shy feeling growing within you once again. “I’ll take you to get some food, too.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, a finger hooking under your chin, pulling your face up, and there was a smirk there that only made you flush further. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like you’re adorable? Because, you are.” You scowled, blush only growing stronger, and he smoothed a thumb over your cheek as did, glancing away over your shoulder for a second. “Go give your statement, I’ll wrestle Newt into an ambulance.”

“Mhm, ‘kay.” You twisted your head, nuzzling a little into his palm for a second, before pulling it away from your face and squeezing his hand. “I want McNuggets. McDonald’s drive-thru.”

“Whatever you want, angel.”

You raised a brow, hand smoothing down over his chest to sit just above his stomach, and his eyes dropped, following your hand, a slightly more vulnerable look on his face when he turned back to you; wide eyes, swallowing thickly. “Whatever I want?”

“Anything.”

You tugged on the front of his clothing. “Can I wear your hoodie?”

He froze for a second, before a rush of a breath was leaving him like a punch, and he smiled, reaching behind his head with one hand and tugging it up, stripping the garment off and shucking it down his arm, the long-sleeved shirt underneath rising up a bit as he did, and you forced your eyes away from the happy trail revealed or the flex of his biceps, taking the warm garment from him. He held it out, soft green material looking warm and inviting, flooded with his body heat and the smell of him, your fingers twitching to take it.

Undoing the buttons on the front of your shirt, you cursed under your breath at the cold while taking it off, just a tank top left underneath, before taking the hoodie. It caught on your ponytail, Thomas helping you to adjust it over your head before taking the ruining uniform from you and draping it over his arm like a waiter’s towel, nodding his hair and lifting your hair free from the collar.

He leaned in, lips pressing to your forehead, a soft kiss given to you, before he was pushing you backwards. “Go. Go give your statement, the sooner it’s over, the sooner we get you those nuggets. I’ll meet you at the cars.” Tucking your hands into warm pockets, you wandered away, bumping your hip against Brenda’s as you did and she stumbled a little from where she’d been balancing mid-yawn, flipping you off as you laughed while walking away, and making your way over to the officer.

He stood up straighter from where he’d been leaning against his car as you approached, offering you his hand and introducing himself politely, and you freed up a hand to shake, giving him your name for the record, before your hands were once again clenched with the oversized hoodie’s pockets.

It was a simple case, there wasn’t much to tell. In all honestly, you didn’t know much. You wouldn't be much help, you’d been unconscious for the first half of the journey and in the midst of your concussion symptoms the second time, and you’d never seen the man pull up. You did tell him what you could, about the unusual call, you and Newt splitting up to check the area, before finding the man under the bridge. You tried your best to patch him up, before the two of you had been taken at gunpoint, and you’d lost consciousness when you’d been put in the car.

You asked about the fate of the man under the bridge, your heart sinking a little at the answer you got. He hadn't made it, he’d tried to use the equipment you’d left him but had passed away before the hour mark had passed, and you gripped onto yourself tightly to contain how you felt. He attempted to comfort you about it, to tell you that it was the gang activity you and Newt had speculated it to be, and that the man who’d been stabbed was a criminal, but it did little to ease your suffering.

You were a big believer in second chances; if you didn’t you wouldn't be in the place you were now, with the family you’d found.

Once he had you sign off on the confidentiality forms and disclosures, your name signed next to Newt’s chicken scratch signature, you were free to go, more than ready to just go home. Everything ached, you were still sore and covered with pain, your muscles all tensed up and torn from the strain of the day, your hunger making you feel like you were being eaten from the inside out by your own stomach and the headache that came with it wasn’t a highlight of your day, and your bed was calling out for you.

As promised, the teams were over by the cars, music playing on the radio from within Brenda’s as the door was open, letting her lean against it, and Newt was sucking happily on one of the lollipops reserved for little children that some of the ambulances carried, his tongue turning purple from the false-grape flavour of it.

He saw you coming, a little bounce in his step as you approached, before he was coming to stand before you, a smacking sound making itself known as he pulled the sweet treat away from his mouth. “You okay? Did he tell you about the guy?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, and he frowned, shrugging a little, but holding his arms open.

“He was a bad guy, you can’t save everyone, but you tried, okay? You gave it your best.” His words were true and you knew they were, you didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, you’d done everything you could without losing your one life, in which he would have died too, and you were trying not to risk your own life as much these days. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah.” You huffed, and he squeezed you a little tighter, clearly not accepting that answer, and waiting for me. “God, I hate this job sometimes, but I love it too. We save more lives than we lose, we change more lives for the good than bad, but every job has its bad sides.” It felt like you’d been having an awful lot of the bad side lately, but that only meant there was a lot of good to come to balance out the scales. “Have you texted Derek, yet, I bet he’s pretty worried.”

Newt let out a breathy sound at the mention of his crush, sagging in your arms a little before pulling back, and pale cheeks were flushed with warmth, the men avoiding your gaze and scratching at the back of his neck. “Not yet. Bren had my bag in the car, I got a lot of missed texts and a missed call, but I don’t really know what to say. It’s late, he finishes shift soon, I figure I’ll just wait until I get home.”

“Maybe you should go and see him.” You teased, poking at his shoulder, and your friend’s flush only deepened, shaking his head a little.

“I want to take a hot bath, and watch embarrassing rom-coms and eat an ungodly amount of food in a very unattractive way, and I don’t think me and Derek are quite at that stage. Yet.” He added the last word on, smirking as that cheeky attitude came flooding back, and you felt a presence coming to stand behind you. You knew who it was without having to turn, feeling it instinctively as a slight thrill raced through you, before a kiss was being pressed to the back of your head, an arm slipping around your waist, and a chin hooking over your shoulder.

Newt smirked, eyes moving over the pair of you slowly, and you ignored the look as he busied himself by moving to the backseat of Brenda’s car to retrieve your bag as well, and rifling through his own for his phone.

“Is this okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” You relaxed a little further into his hold, his fingers toying with the stitching underneath the pocket of the jumper idly as you sagged into him, feeling the movement of the muscles in his chest as he shrugged.

“Whole teams here, and you’re kinda’ the centre of attention right now. You and Newt. I didn’t really wanna’ push my boundaries, but I’m kinda’ afraid that if I let you go again, you’re going to get into some more stupid shit and get me all riled up again, and I’m still all full of adrenaline form these last few hours worrying about you.”

You moved to the side a little, twisting your head to be able to look up at him, eyes scanning over his face as you analysed his words, nothing but honesty and vulnerability shown to you. “Hey, I didn’t get myself into this one, it just happened. For once, I have no blame! I was cooperative with the criminal, kept my mouth shut, for the most part, you would have been proud of me.” His lips twitched with a soft form of amusement at your joke. “Besides, they all know how I feel about you, anyway. I’m not exactly subtle about it, and neither are you. I don’t think whatever this is, is exactly a state secret.”

He beamed at that, you weren’t sure why, but his face lit up with pure joy, and he nodded his head sucking down to peck the tip of your nose with a sweet kiss, one that made you feel ticklish, your face screwing up slightly. Turning back to your friends, you watched Newt stare at his phone for a second, considering accepting a call as his finger hovered over the accept button, the vibrating device with Derek’s name flashing along the top going off after a second, and you frowned.

“You sure you don’t want company tonight, Newt?”

“Yeah, I don’t really think either of you should be alone. Especially not with your concussion.” She pointed at you, but her attention quickly moved back to Newt, and the lanky blond shrugged. “How about a girl’s night? You can join in, Newt, because you can talk guys, so you’re acceptable.”

“Wow, thanks, Bren.” His tone was sarcastic but his face lit up a little, and he chuckled. Brenda turned back to you, raising her brows.

“Girl’s night?”

“How about a girls day tomorrow?” She pouted, and you grinned. “You’re right, I really shouldn’t be alone for forty-eight hours with severe concussion symptoms, but I think I can monitor them myself by tomorrow night.”

“Exactly, tomorrow night! Who’s gonna’ look after you tonight, huh? Girls. Night.” She punctuated her words with emphasis, and you tried to hide your giggling at her confusion behind your hand as even Minho groaned, both Fry and Gally snickered. “What?”

“Brenda..” Minho sighed, nodding his head towards you, where Thomas was squeezing you a little tighter, pressing a series of kisses along your hairline, and she studied you both for a second, before scoffing.

“Really? You’re taking Thomas home instead of me? Boo, you whore.”

You gaped, not sure whether to be offended or amused, and Thomas made the decision for you, protesting in offence on both of your behalves as he questioned why he was deemed as a ‘bad’ choice. “He’s bigger. He gives good cuddles. He promised me McNuggets. He smells good. Those are compelling arguments.”

Thomas’ chest puffed out a little against you and the compliments. “Uh, I smell excellent, I give great cuddles, I’d buy you a share box of nuggets that you wouldn't have to share, and I could put on tall boots.” She raised her hands, her voice teasing now, and your head tipped to the side as you stared at your best friend. “But, fine, girl’s day tomorrow it is.”

“I’ll come to that!” Newt chirped, sticking his hand up, and you nodded your head, Brenda taking the opportunity to high-five him.

“If Newt gets to go, then I’m staying.” You huffed, Thomas squeezing you a little tighter, and you lowered a hand to rest over his, soothing as his intense affections were based on the need for his comfort as well as your own.

“Uh, no.” Brenda deadpanned, her bluntness making you laugh. “You’re one of the main topics we’re going to be talking about. Newt gets to come because he can talk boys, and he tells me about hot doctors.”

“So I can’t come?” Minho chipped in, pouting a little for effect as he stared at Brenda, and her words went silent, no arguments to offer as her eyes narrowed on him, a silent argument between two colleagues that only you knew to be between two lovers, and you chuckled to yourself. He knew he’d won that battle, a smirk taking up on his face, and she huffed.

“If Min gets to go, can I come then?” Gally took a more polite approach, and you nodded your head.

“Sure you can.”

“You’re gonna’ fit all these people into your living room? On your two-seater couch?” Thomas teased, a couple of smirks being thrown in his direction at his reference to knowing your apartment so intimately, and you hadn't even realised that you’d been so freely inviting people to your home until now. You felt a little winded by the realisation, by the idea that it would be so simple to accept someone into the place that was so private to you, the place you’d retreat to after a long day to get away from work, but now, work was your family, and you wanted to share it with them.

“Well, Tommy-boy here can drive himself and you over to my place instead?”

“Team day at Minho’s!” Newt cheered, throwing his hands up in the air, and you laughed, the sound fading into a yawn as you covered your mouth.

“Okay, but late afternoon, because I’m exhausted, and I want a lot of sleep.”

“Late afternoon.” Brenda teased, rolling her eyes. “Midday. You better be there.” She barely gave Newt the chance to get the bags from the backseat before she was slamming the door closed, Gally twirling his keys on his finger and Fry already leaning against the car, half-asleep as his head was popped up on his hand.

You took your bag from Newt, who was catching a ride with Gally, the member of the firehouse who lived the closest to him. Brenda’s car was leaving first, spinning dangerously on mud-tracks as she left, and you were impressed with how recklessly she dared to drive surrounded by cops, but that was probably playing it safe for her. The rest of the team slowly followed, Thomas’ arm still wrapped loosely around your waist as he guided you over to his car, fresh mud spattered up along the polished paintwork, and your bag was placed on the backseat.

He was holding open the passenger door for you when you were ready, and you sank into the seat, offering him just a smile in acknowledgement, before he was rounding the vehicle to get in too, car starting up smoothly, and his hand on the back of your seat as he reversed out of the spot.

Switching gears, he inched forward slowly, pulling up the track carefully, and glancing back in the mirrors, before both hands were sitting on the wheel, and he was flicking on the indicator for the highway.

“You still want to go to the drive-thru?”

You considered it for a second, watching the road as he pulled out, before giving in to your craving. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He hummed, a hand reaching down to find one of your own where it was sitting in your lap, linking his fingers together loosely with your own. The radio was playing softly, the cars were flying past you on the highway as you weaved between lanes, an area you didn’t recognise, and clearly, Thomas wasn’t all that familiar with it either because he didn’t talk much, instead, focusing on the signage along the road for a long time.

It was a longer journey than you’d expected it to be, almost thirty minutes passing before you were entering an area of town that you began to recognise, the very edges of your territory as far as you’d expanded so far, and you squeezed Thomas’ hand a little tighter, letting him go every so often when he needed it to change gears or to drive, but his hand always seemed to find it’s way back to being pressed up delicately with your own.

Your mind slipped a little bit, wondering just how it was that you found yourself here.

It had been a long time since you’d allowed yourself to trust anyone, to really let anyone in, and now you found yourself surrounded. Your entire team had shown up to collect you tonight, all of them wanting to make sure you were okay; honest and true with nothing to gain from it themselves except for knowing that you were safe, and the man beside you had let himself dig in a little closer.

Instead of just holding your heart, he’d managed to let himself inside, residing there and making it his own with everything he did. The moment you’d laid your eyes on him, you’d hated him, hearing him already hate you felt like a bittersweet mouthful, making it easier not to get attached but hard as it always made you one step further from home. You’d spent so much of your life forcing people away while dreaming about one day finding your home that you’d never stopped to watch the time slipping away around you as the chances seemed to get further and further away, until Newt had forced you to.

You had your own history that made you the way you were, but you’d never stopped to give Thomas the benefit of the doubt that he did, too, and you’d taken out your anger on him when it was unwarranted. He’d clearly forgiven you for it and moved on, but you’d never really apologised.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

He frowned, the neutral expression he’d held switching to a frown as he began to slow the car down, navigating through the car park as a surprising number of cars still milled around, shopping at the mall in the stores with later hours into the night and various fast-food joints, the illuminated letter ‘M’ calling out to you, and Thomas joined the queue of cars.

“I never said sorry for the way I treated you. I had stuff going on, I had a lot of issues, but I didn’t stop to think that maybe you had stuff going on too, and I’m sorry.”

He seemed stuck for a second, like a deer caught in the headlights, before he sank into his seat a little bit. “That’s okay, I forgive you. You didn’t know I had stuff going on at the time, I shouldn't have been mad at you, either. I took it out on you, but really, I had issues with someone else.”

The name was on the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak your next words, the static of the intercom requesting your order made the both of you jump, and Thomas rolled down the window. It took a moment, deciding as quickly as you could and putting in an order for what it was that you were craving as your stomach rumbled again, that typical greasy smell of fast-food drifting through the open window.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the transaction, reaching out to turn the music up a little bit as you switched over to a classical station, finding the latest chart-toppers to be a little overwhelming in the moment, but late-hour classical piano and violin notes were much more comfortable. The bags were hot in your lap as Thomas handed them over clutching his McFluffy in your hand carefully and staring down longingly at the chunks of chocolate candy and caramel sauce through the lid, somewhat regretting your decision not to get one when he’d offered you one.

Parking up at the back, a little bit away from where everyone else was, and you unclipped your seatbelt, watching him do the same, before he was pushing his chair a little further back and getting comfortable. You handed him over his cheeseburger, and the fries that followed, stealing one from his portion and watching as he grinned, sitting them on his lap and unwrapping the burger, while you opened up a box of nuggets, offering one to him.

You sprinkled some salt over the box, shaking the nuggets after he’d taken one to mix the seasoning, but you couldn't eat one, couldn't focus, not when a certain question was still hanging on the tip of your tongue.

“What’s up? They make it wrong? It’s pretty hard to mess up chicken nuggets.” He teased, leaning over to inspect them and winking cheekily as he plucked another from the large box, popping it into his mouth and chewing happily, a sound made as if to confirm to you that they were okay, but the food wasn’t what was bothering you.

“Can I ask you a question, and you promise you’ll answer honestly?” his brows furrowed, but he nodded, taking another large bite of his burger. You hesitated, picking at the edges of the bag, ripping the brown paper slowly, and you sighed. “That woman in the bar, that was Teresa, wasn’t it?”

He stiffened at the mention of her name, his face falling, and he was stiff as his head turned away from you to stare out of the dashboard, and your lips pursed, anxiety coursing through you at the time that it took him to reply. He chewed slowly, eventually swallowing his mouthful, and you took a cautious bite out of a chicken nugget as you waited. “Yes.”

You nodded, keeping it to yourself and looking through the bag for a packet of ketchup, opening up the small tub and dunking the savoury treat inside, swirling it around, and eating the other half. You licked salt from your lips as you finished, and turned back to look at him, where he was staring down at his food, a confused look on his features. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He took a breath, seeming to have an answer ready to go, as though he’d anticipated your words, before his jaw snapped shut, and he put his burger down, sighing a little and nibbling on his lower lip, before giving in. “I didn’t want you to know.” You raised your brows, not the answer you were expecting, and he turned to look at you, taking in your expression, and shrugging a little. “You said you wanted honesty.”

“But why?”

“Why didn’t I want you to know that was her?” You nodded, and he took a bite of his food, prolonging the suspense as he procrastinated on his answer. “I guess,” He spoke through his food, grimacing a little upon realising, and you couldn't help your smile, eating another one of your chicken nuggets. “Because you’re nothing like her, and what we have isn’t the same, and I didn’t want you to have to cross with her.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.” He didn’t pause this time, stiff once again as he gave you the truth without even considering lying, and you felt conflicted. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to reach out and comfort him, or comfort yourself and put your walls back up; in the end, the person best at comforting you was Thomas, and so you needed to be that for him. Reaching a hand out, you placed it on his arm, and he jumped at the contact, seeming shocked by it. He turned to look at you, eyes dropping to where your hand was sitting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t have anything to be mad at you for, Tommy. I’m just sorry you got hurt.” You whispered, and he let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to sit on your cheek, his face dropping to bump his nose with your own, sharing a breath and nudging into you.

“Just so you know, this is one of those moments that I would kiss you, if we’d already had our first kiss.”

“I’ll remember that.” You grinned, bumping back against him, before pulling away, and eating a chicken nugget as he whined slightly at the loss of intimacy.

“She, uh, she was a paramedic. You reminded me of her, at first.” You turned, realising that in the interest of honesty, he was going to tell you it all; the information that other members of the team skirted around and answered vaguely, a mystery that had been locked up tight to keep you out of, all of them having gotten hurt in some way. “She had the same attitude you did, she didn’t really let people in; a lot of walls. We were.. something. She didn’t want to put a label on it, she wanted me behind closed doors but never wanted me near her in front of the rest of the team. She had boundaries, she wanted me to come over late but never wanted me to stay the night, she wanted to have dinner and drinks but never in public. It felt exciting, but wrong. But I couldn't stop.”

“Thomas, you don’t have to tell me this.” He sniffed a little, eating his fries quietly and shaking his head a little as he relived the memories.

“I want you to know.” You felt touched that he wanted to share one of his deepest pains with you, but it was scary, because it meant you had to do the same. “I should have seen the signs, she always wanted more, and she never wanted to settle down, kind of like you.” His words cut a little, stinging, despite knowing them to be true. “She said she was leaving one day, out of the blue, and I blamed myself for it. We got into an argument, she didn’t even tell me she was moving house until she asked me to sign her transfer papers. We yelled a lot, and I was upset, so I signed them and told her to just leave. She did.”

“Is, uh, is that the day that-”

“Newt got hurt? Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “She left, and I was upset, and about an hour later, we got a call. I’d been too busy pacing my office and seething over it that I didn’t call in for a substitute. Newt told me it was okay, he’d been comforting me. He went alone on that call, got stuck under material that had fallen on his leg. Minho found him and carried him out after he passed out.”

He crushed the empty cardboard carton in his hand, the sudden sound making you twitch at the shock, and he whispered an apology upon sensing the environment he’d created.

“Newt’s been my best friend since I was a kid, and because of my feelings, he got hurt. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, but there were just so many similarities, it was overwhelming. I didn't want you to meet her, because you're nothing like her.”

“I’m not? Kinda’ sounds like we’re the same.” You finished your food, packing the wrapped back into the bag, and facing him more confidently as you turned in your chair, and he chuckled.

“You’re nothing like her. She may have been what I loved once, but you’re something entirely different.” He picked up his ice-cream, peeling back the lid on it and poking at the contents with a smile on his face now as he mixed the toppings in. “You’re sweet, you get along with everyone and you want to be with us, I can tell, even if you were going to leave at first. You.. you want me, you don’t hide it. I like that. You’ve spared my best friend a lot of pain instead of causing it, and you make Brenda feel like a woman again when she’s surrounded by men, and you cook with Fry. You’re a real part of our family, I don’t think she ever was.”

Once he deemed it thoroughly mixed, he took a large spoonful of it, holding it up and poking it against your smile lightly.

“Take a bite, I know you want some. You can share mine.”

You did as told, accepting the ice-cream he was offering to you, and relishing in the sweet flavour. He took his own bite, and despite how happy you were, there was still a pang of lingering guilt as you kept back your secrets from him after he’d told you his. “You’re not the first firemen I’ve been involved with.”

“I figured as much.” You were a little surprised, pausing in your words as he looked at you like it was no big deal, and he shrugged, offering you another spoonful. “I mean, I figured you had to have some kind of history in a firehouse, with your transfer record, more switches than a lightbulb sees.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning at his joke a little. “Well, you were right. In my first house, I was straight out of the academy and young, and there was a fireman. He was charming, and very attractive, and he had this way that made my heart race.” You reached up, wiping a stray piece of ice-cream for the edge of Thomas’ lip. “Like you do.”

“I make your heart race?” He was smirking, liking knowing he had such an effect on you, and you redirected your attention to the dessert, turning the spoon he was bringing to his mouth and stealing the spoonful, the chill helping to calm your flushing features.

“You know you do.” You swallowed the treat, licking the sugary taste from your lips. “He had a previous injury, and a drug problem. I was young and naïve, and he wanted the ambulance stock for the pain so he could avoid surgery. When the truth came out, I took the fall and lost my job, while he got off with a reprimand and being put on probation. I had to move to a whole new state to escape it and find a new firehouse. When someone tried to get close to me there, I panicked and thought they would use me again. I moved, and I moved, and I moved. Whenever someone got close, I panicked. I got confused. I wanted family, and I was so set on finding that perfect family that I never stopped to let anyone in, until I came to ‘21, and encountered a moody lieutenant.”

Thomas grinned, cold lips pressing to your cheek as he ducked down, and you squirmed at the slightly sticky feeling of melted ice-cream, the cardboard cup empty as it had been shared between you both.

“My real family, there’s not much to say about them. I don’t have much, my mother hasn’t spoken to me in a while, she sends a birthday card every year, and that's about all there is for me. Until I found all of you.”

“It was just me and my mom when I was a kid, and there was a house fire. She’s never been quite right since, I grew up looking after her, and Newt was the kid across the road who brought me trays of food his mom made for us, and who brought me the homework sheets when I had to leave school early. He’s my family, too. This whole squad is.”

You felt like a weight had been lifted off of your chest from the confessions, from finally trusting someone enough to tell them your story, feeling the burn of tears in the back of your throat, but you were too tired to cry, having no tears left to give. “Tommy?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“Can we go home now?” He nodded, starting the car back up, and you leaned over the centre console a little to rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him turn to press a kiss to the top of your head. “When we get there, I want to go to bed, and I want you to stay the night, and then I want to spend the whole day with you tomorrow, in front of our family, without hiding anything.”

He took a second to reply, letting out an unsteady laugh, before starting up the car and nodding for you as you pulled back. “I would fucking love that.”

#thomas #the maze runner #ff!tommy #firefighter!tommy #smoke and fire #SAF #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

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lumosinlove · 4 years ago

Text

Coast To Coast

Hi Hazelnuts!! The final chapter of Coast To Coast! The technical end of the SW universes. I can’t even believe it. Thank you all so much for loving these three boys--and all of my OCs. When I first started writing Sweater Weather, I didn’t expect people to care about the rest of the team. I am so thankful that you do. From me, Leo, Logan, and Finn, thank you, thank you, and bitch ass moves.

Love, Haz

part ix

tw: brief minor panic attack

Finn could relive it when he closed his eyes.

They’d ducked into a dark room at Hogwarts stadium, empty save for some spare equipment. The noise had been loud even from within, or maybe it just rang in Finn’s ears. He’d hoisted the Cup. They’d won on home ice. He’d pressed his lips to Logan and Leo’s cheeks out there—and some others, for good measure—and now all he wanted was to do this. Finn had not so much gotten his breath back before he had been kissing them. He could feel Leo and Logan, their hands gripping his uniform just as tightly as he held theirs.

“The Conn Smyth,” Finn remembered saying into Logan’s mouth. The kisses had been beyond sloppy, and Finn had everything. The Cup. Logan. Leo.

He had everything. Right then, he didn’t even mind that no one knew it. He knew it. His family knew it. The people that mattered knew it.

Leo’s mouth had dragged up Logan’s neck and met Finn’s in an effort to kiss Logan, too.

“Hat trick,” Leo said. Leo had stripped himself of his goalie pads, and knelt, right there on the rough carpet, long legs jammed between Logan and the door. He had pushed Logan against the shelves and undone Logan’s pants, pulling his jock aside and his spandex, getting at his cock. Logan was already a little hard when Leo took him in his mouth, nose bumping the swell of his jock. When he moved, his jersey rustled against his padded pants, mixing with Logan’s breathing. Logan leaned into Finn’s side, a moan punching out of his mouth.

“Leo—”

“Shh, baby,” Finn said, and turned Logan’s head so that he could kiss him, mumbling into his mouth. He reached down to cup his balls, thumb stroking Leo’s lip. “Kiss me now.”

Logan did, Finn silencing his sounds. Their fingers were tight in Leo’s hair.

Logan had been shaking a little under their mouths. He was half-laughing, half-panting, green eyes bright and pupils blown. He’d whined low in his throat as he came, as they both kissed his neck, fingers in their damp hair. His skin had tasted like the champagne from the locker room, and when Finn kissed Leo, Leo’s mouth had, too—from drinking it out of the Stanley Cup.

The Cup.

There had been Pascal’s, too, and kisses without having to hide, and clinging clothes in the pool. And then they were home, alcohol filtering out of their systems and still wide awake, at four in the morning, stripping off their clothes for a hot shower. And everything had lulled. Finn thought about Logan’s head on his chest, Leo’s, from behind him, on his shoulder. The hot water pounding around them.

Finn blinked away from the memory and back to the warm light of their bathroom, where he was sitting on the counter now, Gryffindor turned to summer outside and Leo between his legs.

“Hold still,” Leo said.

“I’m trying,” Finn said. He tapped his heels against the back of Leo’s knees. “Logan’s making me laugh, yell at him.”

Logan held up his hands, one holding his phone. “What? I’m just standing here.”

Leo ducked closer, his fingers gentle on Finn’s jaw as he carefully scraped the last of Finn’s stubble away. Finn hummed when Leo wiped the last of the shaving cream with a warm towel.

“There,” Leo ran a hand over Finn’s jaw. “Done.”

“Perfect, should I do you now?” Finn grinned, moving his hands to Leo’s ass. “Oh, wait—”

Leo flicked Finn’s freshly shaven cheek.

“—Baby face.”

“Lo, you’re up,” Leo mocked glared and Finn laughed, pulling him in closer.

“I like baby face,” Finn said, and made a show of biting at the skin of Leo’s jaw with a growl.

“Don’t turn him on,” Logan said, shoving at Finn. “I want this thing off of my face.”

“I’m a little turned on,” Leo said.

Finn kissed Leo’s neck twice before sliding off of the counter, letting Logan take his place.

“That was so hot,” Finn said.

“What?” Leo said, spreading cream onto Logan’s cheeks.

“I don’t know, everything.” The equipment closet, the bathroom at Dumo’s, getting home to their bed. “I was just thinking about the Cup night. It was pretty fucking perfect.”

“Just think about when we have the Cup,” Logan said.

Leo shook his head as he tilted Logan’s chin up with his fingers. “I don’t even want to think about what the thing has been through, it is not going in our bed.”

“We can clean it before,” Finn said and Leo just scoffed.

“When does your plane leave tomorrow?” Logan asked, messing with a piece of Leo’s hair.

“Pretty early,” Leo started on Logan’s other cheek. “I’ll leave for the airport at seven. What about you guys?”

“I go to New York on Thursday, my Cup day is on Friday,” Finn said, looking up as he remembered. “And then I’ll meet Lo at Harvard.” He grinned. “And then we’ll meet you in good o’l New Aw-leens after that for your Cup day, and then to Canadia for Tremzy.”

Logan snorted. “Canadia?”

“I always want to say that because of Canadian. America gives you Americans, but Canada doesn’t give you Canadans.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Shaving cream always looks like it would taste good,” Finn continued, as if he didn’t hear Logan. He reached out and swiped a finger along Logan’s jaw, gathering some of the white foam. “But it really doesn’t.”

“I could try doing it with whipped cream,” Leo said.

Logan just looked between them, bewildered. “Just get this thing off.”

Seeing Leo’s bags by the door did something to Finn’s chest. He knew exactly where he was going, and knew he was coming back, but it caused a thin string of worry to begin to unspool itself in his chest. Hockey wasn’t the securest job in the world, and he knew they were all highly valued by the Lions—they had just won a Cup—but still. Finn worried. He would always worry, especially now. He was in love now. He was locked in.

Leo looked up from counting through his wallet, ID, and printed out ticket.

“Alright,” he smiled. “See you there?”

“Call us when you land,” Logan said. “You have to call us when you land or else I’m gonna, like…”

“He’ll freak out,” Finn said.

Logan smushed Leo’s cheeks with his hands. “I’ll freak out.”

“I’ll text you before the wheels even hit the ground,” Leo said, leaning down for a kiss. “How’s that, Lo?”

Logan leaned into Leo’s body, into the kiss, and Finn loved that. “Okay.”

When the door shut behind him, Logan sighed. “I’m going to be all alone in this apartment until my flight.”

Finn smiled, wrapping his arms around Logan from behind. “That’ll be, like, four hours.”

“Still.”

Finn’s hands traveled down to below Logan’s sweatpants band. He was still warm from being in bed, from taking Leo’s cock that morning. “At least you have something to think about until we’re together again. And then we’ll give Nut something to think about until we get to Louisiana.”

It made Logan smile. “Yeah…”

“Come help me pack,” Finn said and kissed Logan’s neck.

“You suck at packing.”

“I know, that’s why I need help.”

Finn laughed when Logan groaned, but followed him into the bedroom.

They were bringing the Cup back to Harvard. Finn had spent the majority of his day with the Cup in New York City. His parents were there, and Alex, and there was a parade. He’d wanted his boys with him, though. And now Logan was here, waiting for him in the summer night heat in front of an already rowdy OKN that was anticipating the Cup’s arrival.

The last time Finn had stood in this driveway, Logan had said goodbye. Finn had pulled over the second he had gotten off of campus because he couldn’t see. Standing there, in front of their old house and holding the Cup, the flashbacks of sitting and crying with his forehead against the steering wheel, feeling like his lungs were trying to burn up, wasn’t exactly welcome.

“Mon coeur,” Logan whispered as he approached Finn. He clapped a hand on Finn’s shoulder, a perfectly friendly gesture to any onlookers who couldn’t feel the way his fingers slipped beneath the neck of Finn’s t-shirt. “I know.”

Finn looked at him, flexing his fingers against the Cup’s rim. “I love you, Lo.”

Logan was wearing one of his old Harvard hats, flipped backwards. He had a gray t-shirt on and black shorts that cut just above his knee. His Nikes were ones that he’d had since Freshman year. He looked just like he had then. He looked just as he had when Finn couldn’t have him.

“I love you,” Logan said now.

Most of their old teammates were there, having traveled back just for this, and were already well on their way to drunk. Finn forced himself to push the feelings aside—he was used to doing that in this house. He raised the Cup above his head and shouted along with the rest of them, with Logan. Finn could hear his own heart more than he could hear the shouts of welcome and elation. He could feel the sweat beading down his back and temples more than he could register himself setting the Cup down on a high table, among beer cans. Most of the guys here wouldn’t dare touch it out of bad luck, but they started up a round of We Are The Champions anyway. Finn felt too hot and too cold all at once, looking around at the familiar house. Logan was shaking people’s hands, people were shaking Finn’s hand, and clapping him on the back. He walked around and he was smiling, and laughing. He was handed a drink, and then another, and he was cracking jokes to make others laugh. And something felt like it was blocking part of his throat. What air he could draw was clammy. He had lost Logan about an hour in. The Cup was gleaming on its card table pedestal. It looked too bright. Everything looked a little too bright. He put his drink down.

“Where are the drinks at?” he asked a sandy-haired guy. He needed water.

“Kitchen, man,” the guy grinned. “Knock yourself out, you deserve it.”

Finn looked for Logan, but still didn’t see him.

“Thanks,” he said instead.

The kitchen was only more shouts and bodies, more back slaps. It felt even hotter with the sun completely gone outside, like there was nothing except this house, nothing except this feeling. Most people were too drunk to really talk to him, though. There were girls, too. Girls kissing his cheeks, their hands on the back of his neck—

And there was Logan. He had a bottle of rum in one hand, in the middle of pouring it over some coke and ice, and there was a girl pressed along his side. She had her hand on his chest, twisting his fleur-de-lis pendant in her fingers. Finn could see plainly that Logan was carefully trying to extract his body from hers. He had that slight smile on his face that he got when he was uncomfortable. He set the bottle down when he finished pouring his drink and stepped away, willing to talk, but that was all. There would be pictures, probably.

Finn remembered seeing Logan kissing a girl. He remembered a mouth against his own neck while he watched, and then Logan’s mouth against his, for the first time. He remembered Logan leaving, and he remembered going to sit in the car, waiting for him to come out—and sitting in the pulled over car, leaving Logan for Gryffindor, his stomach churning, memories blurring, he wanted him and he couldn’t have him and Logan said no—

Finn stumbled back a step just as Logan looked up. Harz. Finn watched Logan’s mouth say the word, but he couldn’t hear him. Finn turned, walking until he found a dark hallway, somewhere near the back of the house with the trash bins and dusty cleaning supplies. His fingers were shaking as he took out his phone. It only rang twice.

“Leo?”

“Hi, Harz,” Leo said. “Sheesh, big party, huh? I didn’t know college parties actually sounded like that.”

“I—” Finn wiped sweat from his forehead, pushing his hair back. He sort of wondered if he was going to pass out.

“Finn?” Leo said, more carefully this time.

“Leo—”

“Hey, sweetheart, hey, what’s wrong?”

Finn blew a breath out, glancing around the corner to make sure he was still as alone as he could get before ducking his head to his chest. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong, I should be having fun. I tried to have fun.”

“Okay,” Leo said. The music was making his voice hard to hear. “That’s okay, is Lo with you?”

“Yeah,” Finn rasped. “I mean, no—I mean, he’s here somewhere.”

“Can you find Lo and then somewhere quiet for a second?”

“What the fuck is wrong? I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Harz, I think—I think it’s just tough on you being back at that house. I was thinking it might be, actually.”

“The house,” Finn repeated.

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Finn, I really want you to find Logan, okay? Logan can help you better than I can right now. Especially now. Okay, sweetheart?”

“Sorry, Knutty, you’re—” Finn dug his fingers into his eyes. “You’re with your family—”

“No, no, no,” Leo said. “I love you. Love you so much. Call me always, okay?”

“Okay,” Finn said. “I’m—”

“Harzy?”

Finn looked up. Logan was standing there, green eyes bright from the street lamps outside.

“Finn, ça va?”

“Lo’s here now,” Finn said into the phone. “Bye, Nut. Love you. Call you later.”

“Love you,” Leo said, and then hung up.

“It was Nut,” Finn said. He swallowed over his dry throat and shoved his phone back into his shorts. He pointed to Logan’s drink. “Can I have some of that?”

Logan glanced behind them, but the hallway was empty. He walked forward and handed Finn the plastic cup, hand between his shoulder blades.

“Harz…” Logan’s voice shifted into concern. “You’re burning up, what’s—”

Finn took a long swallow. It was all too sweet. “I’m just—it’s hot. I’m really thirsty.”

“Let me get you water,” Logan said. “Stay here, don’t move.”

Finn barely had time to set the cup down before Logan was back, cracking open a bottle of water for him. It was slick with condensation, and Logan held it to his lips when it nearly slipped out of Finn’s hand.

“Your heart’s pounding,” Logan said, hand still between Finn’s shoulder blades.

“I don’t know,” Finn said, and finished half of the bottle in one go. Logan’s thumb caught a drop from the corner of his mouth.

“What can I do?”

Finn let his head thunk back against the wall. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “Okay…”

“I’m…” Finn began. He was sorry, he knew he was freaking Logan out. He could see it on his face.

Logan shook his head a little, but was quiet. He moved his palm from Finn’s back to Finn’s neck. It was cool from the water bottle and Finn rolled into it. He looked at Logan, and then reached forward and took the Harvard hat from his head. It made his hair fall forward, dusting gently near his eyes. It eased Finn’s heart.

“I need to breathe,” Finn said, and Logan seemed to know what he meant.

They were suppose to go to the roof. Finn needed air, he needed to not be in this stuffy house anymore, as seeped in hard memories as the carpet probably was in alcohol. But they both paused at the top of the stairs. The door to Logan’s old room was ajar, the one he’d had as a Junior. The year Finn had left.

“I asked about it,” Logan said hoarsely into the silence. “What’s-his-face said the guy living here’s abroad this semester.”

Finn could only nod.

The music from downstairs seemed far away as they walk inside. The bed was in the same place. The dresser, everything. There was the same metal trash bin. The whiteboard above the desk had never even been erased. It still had some guy’s schedule across it. Finn remembered the flight scheduled for Thanksgiving that he always chirped Logan for never erasing.

Finn turned away and only barely quieted the first breath of tears. They surprised him as much as a trip and a fall would.

“Finn,” Logan’s voice came out pained. “Finn…”

“Sorry,” his breaths were hitching too fast for his words. “It’s just a lot—like, looking,” he gestured vaguely to the bed where he’d held Logan for what had been the last time for a long time. A long time. “Looking at it all. Fuck, sorry.” Finn pressed his hand over his eyes, his other arm going around his stomach.

Logan was there in a moment, though, pulling his hands away from him, like tearing a wall down, and he held Finn tightly, pressed up on his toes to wrap his arms around him. Finn clutched him, crying into his neck.

“Lo.”

“I’m sorry,” Logan was crying, too. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“You don’t have to,” Finn began, but he really couldn’t speak. He could feel himself shaking only because Logan was so steady in that moment.

“Yes,” Logan said. “Yes, I do.” Logan pulled back, hands slipping to Finn’s neck and jaw. “I knew you were hurting. And you were hurting more than I was because you were okay with what you wanted. I wasn’t. I—on the phone, after you got to Gryffindor, you were crying.”

Finn shook his head, not to say no, or stop, but just against the onslaught of memories. They ached.

Logan wiped his eyes on his sleeve and then his hands were gentle on Finn again, wiping his wet cheeks. “I knew you were, and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s—”

“It’s not okay,” Logan said fiercely, then pressed forward and kissed Finn quickly. “It’s not okay. You never stopped being my best friend. Not for a second, and I should have been there, even if it was only as that. We should have talked. Like you wanted to. And I’m—” Logan’s voice broke. “Finn…”

Finn’s contact photo was one that Logan had taken of him secretly. In it, Finn was reading, slouched in a library chair across the table from him, his glasses on and his hair messy from a long bus ride, coming home from an away game. Logan had acted like he was on his phone, and snapped the picture, blushing despite himself.

Logan loved that picture.

Now, he could barely look at it.

It popped up, along with Finn’s name.

Call me when you get there. Logan wished he’d never said that. He took his headphones off and pushed his laptop screen down. And stared at his phone. It rang again, and again, and then Logan jolted and picked it up.

He opened his mouth to say something and froze again, breathing through his heartbeats. Maybe it wasn’t Finn, maybe he just wished it was and some robot spam voice was going to—

“Lo?”

Finn.

“Hello?” Logan managed, which was stupid, as if he didn’t know who it was. That was not how he answered Finn’s phone calls, ever.

“Hey, Lo,” Finn’s voice sounded soft, and so tired. “I’m at the hotel. In Gryffindor.”

“You made it.”

There was another handful of painful seconds, then, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Logan breathed. “Yeah, good. Good.”

“Meeting some of the guys tomorrow.”

Logan nodded, eyes staring. “They’ll—love you.” The words choked him.

Finn didn’t respond for a long time, but Logan knew he was still there by his breathing. It was…it was like—

“Yeah,” Finn said, finally, and his voice was raspy, barely there. There was a sharp sound of breath.

Finn was crying.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Finn said again, and it was muffled, like he had a hand over his mouth.

Logan had a sudden, horrible image of Finn sitting in a hotel room, all alone, hunched over at the end of a cold bed, cheeks flushed beneath his freckles from tears, hand locked over his mouth so Logan wouldn’t hear.

Logan threw his hat off and pushed his hair off his forehead. He felt too warm. He needed to respond. They were just sitting there, on two ends of an invisible line.

“Tremz—” Finn started, and then there was another rush of breath through the speaker, like Finn couldn’t finish the sentence.

And Logan was still stuck, listening. He couldn’t listen to Finn cry. He couldn’t do it.

“Tell me what Black is like,” Logan said. “Call me later, if you want—” Logan clamped his mouth shut, briefly closing his eyes. “I—I’m really proud of you. You know that, though.”

Finn was really, really quiet then, like he’d pull the phone away entirely. Logan put a palm over his eyes. His head hurt. His chest hurt.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Okay.”

“Bye, Harzy.”

There was an exhale that maybe had a goodbye in it somewhere, and then the line went dead.

Logan lowered his phone from his ear and stared at the screen. The call had lasted all of five minutes.

He clicked it off, closed his computer, and curled into his bed. He fell asleep, finally, with the lights still on.

Logan was stroking his hand through the back of Finn’s hair gently. Finn’s breathing had calmed, but he didn’t hold Logan any less tight, bent to tuck his face against Logan’s neck.

“I love you,” Logan whispered. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

Finn whispered it back.

“I’m sorry I pretended. I was scared.”

“I know. I was scared, too,” Finn replied.

He straightened, then, and looked at Logan. His head hurt a little, but he felt clearer. Logan looked ready to pull him back in again, and Finn would have let him—if they were really alone.

“Come to me tonight, okay?” Finn said. His nose was a little stuffed up from crying. “At the hotel. After we’re alone, and we’ll call Peanut, and just—sleep next to me.”

Logan nodded. As if he could do anything else.

“What do you want to do now?” Logan asked.

Finn sniffed, wiped his red eyes, but smiled. “Let’s go downstairs. We have the Cup, and…despite it all, this is where I found one of the loves of my life.”

Logan smiled and let Finn kiss him slowly.

“Let’s go enjoy this.”

“Finn,” Logan said before they left the room. “Tell me if you want to talk about it. Ever. Tonight. I will, I’ll talk about it with you. I don’t want you to feel what you just felt downstairs.”

Finn turned back around and took Logan’s face in his hands, kissing him soundly. “I don’t think that was about you. I think that was about me. You hurt me, and I hurt you,” Finn softened the words with another kiss. “But now we’re what helps each other. Yeah? Some people aren’t that lucky.”

Logan nodded. “Yeah.”

Logan knocked on Finn’s door about ten minutes after they had arrived at the hotel. It opened to reveal Finn wearing a gray Gryffindor t-shirt and sweatpants. Logan stood in the doorframe for a minute, socked-toes digging into the hotel carpet.

Finn stepped aside, closed the door once Logan had stepped in, and Logan tucked his fingers up and under Finn’s shirt, resting his cheek against his chest.

“Oh,” Finn laughed a little. “Hi.”

“They have video games on this TV.”

Finn scratched Logan’s scalp lightly, his other hand resting on his hip. “I’d own you, but you’re tired.”

“Non.”

Finn chuckled. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“You smell good.”

“Me?”

Logan nodded. “Like you.”

Finn rested his cheek in Logan’s hair. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It is,” Logan said. “Let’s call Nut.”

When Leo answered the phone, he was somewhere noisy, but he smiled when he saw the two of them sprawled out.

“Hey, baby,” Finn said. “Partying it up?”

Leo looked between the two of them knowingly and smiled. “I’m glad you two talked.”

Finn laughed. “How’d you know?”

“Logan’s got that look. It’s basically his I-just-scored-a-goal look, but it goes for this, too.”

Logan rested his head on Finn’s shoulder. “How are you?”

Leo looked around. “Good. Just at a family get-together. Eating, celebrating,” he tilted his head in the way Logan loved. “Missing my lover boys. Especially now that I’ve seen you. How are you?”

“Our party was…intense,” Finn wrapped an arm around Logan and kissed his temple. “We’re glad to be chilling, I think.”

Logan nodded, palm over Finn’s heart. “We miss you.”

“We really miss you.”

Leo pushed a hand through his hair. “Well, text me, okay? After you’ve,” Leo snorted. “consummated the hard talk.”

Logan laughed loudly, jostling Finn. He couldn’t deny that Leo was right. Logan needed that closeness right now. And by the way Finn held him closer at the words, he thought Finn did, too.

“Not during,” Leo said. “As much as I want it, I’m surrounded by cousins and shit right now.”

“If you’re sure,” Finn grinned.

Leo opened his mouth to respond, when the camera was yanked away from them to reveal a smiling Eloise Knut.

“Hi, boys! Oh, aren’t you two cozy.”

“Hi, Eloise,” Logan smiled. “Ça va?”

“Honeys, we’re so excited to have you coming to stay with us. Leo’s glaring at me for the phone.”

Finn laughed. “We’re excited, too.”

The screen was pulled back to Leo. He was closer now, and half-whispering a rush of words. “Okay, I love you, text me, feel free to send me pictures later, I’ll be all alone in my room.”

Finn touched his fingers to the phone camera, as if to touch Leo. “Love you, Butter.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” Logan leaned in close to the camera. “You look tan already. Fuck.”

Leo grinned, dropped a devastating wink, and hung up.

Finn set his phone down on the bedside table and looked at Logan. They were both quiet for a minute. The overhead light buzzed a little, but other than that, it was just them.

“Should we be cheesy and order champagne?” Finn asked softly, smile teasing.

Logan shook his head. “I don’t want to see anyone but you all night.”

Finn sighed, a sated huff of breath. “Lo.”

Logan reached up to brush his fingers along Finn’s jaw. “Viens ici.”

Finn didn’t seem to need a translation. He came, leaning forward slowly to brush their lips together. He stopped with a gentle laugh.

“Quoi?” Logan said, tilting his chin forward to press his mouth against Finn’s cheek.

“Why does it feel like I’m kissing you for the first time?” Finn murmured.

Logan looked at him, pulling back only enough to do it. Finn’s eyes were still closed, dark eyelashes ending it a lighter, reddish blond color. He opened them then, looking back at Logan. Logan pushed Finn’s hair away from his eyes, a little long with the flurry of the playoffs, and smiled.

“It sort of does, yeah. Better than our actual first kiss.”

“No, I love our first kiss,” Finn eased Logan back into the pillows and crawled over him. “Knocked my fucking socks off.”

“I saw you with that girl,” Logan said, pushing his hands under Finn’s t-shirt. “I don’t know, I just…I couldn’t let you go. We had just pulled that all nighter, remember?”

“I thought about that today,” Finn said. “When I was…freaking out, I don’t know. And of course I remember,” Finn bent to press a kiss to Logan’s neck. Logan’s eyes slipped closed at the feeling.

“We made coffee at, like, three in the morning,” Logan whispered, holding Finn closer. His skin was warm, his mouth familiar. “We were in the kitchen.”

“I said you put too much sugar in your coffee,” Finn moved to the other side of Logan’s neck, kisses wet and loving.

Logan smiled at the memory, brows drawn together as he felt Finn’s teeth against his skin. “And I said,” Logan pushed Finn’s shirt up further, his other hand going to his thick red hair.

Finn laughed into his skin. “You said, I’m sweet, Harzy.” Finn drew back, then, eyes bright. “And I said, yeah, you are.”

“And you were standing right here,” Logan said, and tightened his thighs around Finn’s hips.

Finn dropped back to a whisper again. “And I swear to God, I almost kissed you.”

“I wanted you to.”

“I wanted you to want me to.”

“And then I went and left you in that room at the party.”

“You don’t get to fault yourself for those things,” Finn said. “Okay, baby, listen to me.”

Logan let Finn pull him into a sitting position, let him pull him into his lap. Finn lifted Logan’s shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the room, and then picked up his fleur-de-lis pendant and kissed it, then kissed where it rested on Logan’s chest.

“Fucking girls touching this thing all night,” Finn grumbled, and Logan watched him kiss it a few more times with a smile before looking up.

“I love you. I love you and it’s okay now. It’ll take time, but it is okay,” Finn smiled when Logan kissed the words in his mouth. “I love you so fucking much, it’s insane.”

Logan kissed Finn’s lower lip gently and let it bounce back into place. “I’m never going to leave you like that.”

“I forgive you,” Finn whispered. “Can you forgive me?”

Logan paused. “What do I have to forgive you for?”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Takes two to tango.”

Logan shifted. “Finn…”

“We went through it. Let me love you instead of us punishing ourselves for being, you know. Scared.”

Logan tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Finn’s neck. “You’re so smart,” Logan said. He watched as Finn played with the necklace again, letting it rest against his palm. “I wish people who think they know you knew that.”

Finn let the pendant go and finally kissed him. Logan felt the silver fall against his chest. He tightened his grip around Finn’s neck as Finn eased him back into the pillows, mouth all heat and insistence.

“This could be our first kiss that we’ve forgiven ourselves for,” Finn said.

Logan kissed Finn again. “Yes.”

“You get quiet when you know I’m right.”

“You get loud.”

Finn laughed into their next kiss, and Logan did, too, and Logan liked that the best.

“Love you,” Finn said softly. His eyes were happy, and if Logan was still worried about him from earlier, it was gone with that look. He could feel Finn’s cock through their sweatpants, could feel his heart when he pressed his lips to his neck.

Logan stroked his hands down Finn’s broad back. He grabbed the hem of Finn’s shirt and pushed it up until Finn himself had to sit up, tugging it over his head. He was pale, and a little burnt at his neck and biceps from parading the Cup around New York in the summer. Logan had to sit up and kiss the pink skin.

“I got burnt,” Finn said.

“No kidding,” Logan huffed out a laugh, but he kept his kisses tender. “Is this what love is? I find it cute that you got sunburned?”

“Yep,” Finn smiled. “It’s also wanting to get fucked by your sunburned lover.”

“Well, yeah,” Logan tilted his head up, arms around Finn’s hips. “I thought that was obvious.”

Finn laughed and rocked back onto the bed so he could get his pants off, but Logan beat him to it, lunging forward and bracketing him in with his arms.

“Oh, hi,” Finn said. “You wanna do it for me?”

“Yes,” Logan said, and bent to press his lips to Finn’s chest. He kissed down the center, then over to one hip, and then the other. He rubbed Finn through his sweatpants, heart quickening at the glimpses of the trail of red hair he got, leading down to his hard cock. He rubbed the heel of his palm along Finn, the material of his sweatpants dragging taut. Finn let out a breath, head falling back on the mattress for a moment before he reached to tangle a hand in Logan’s hair.

“I used to think about you all the time when I got off,” Logan said, and pulled Finn’s sweatpants down just enough to mouth right above his cock. “Even when you were just across the room in your bed.”

Finn smiled, then pulled a lip between his teeth. “I’m pretty sure we heard each other more than a few times.”

Logan remembered it well. The soft shifting of sheets in the dark, Finn’s short pants of breath, and himself plumping up in response. Hearing Finn like that had been as much frustrating as it had been a relief. Logan remembered pressing his cheek into his pillow, trying to keep himself silent when he could tell the exact moment Finn was about to come, and the moment when he did. It was like being able to tell when Finn was going to pass to him, or score. There was the sharp intake of breath, his hand froze, and then he would make a single, soft noise, and pick up his pace again. One night, when the moon had been bright and Logan had been facing the right direction, he’d been able to watch Finn’s chest heave with it, pale in the milky light.

He didn’t have to be quiet now, and he could look all he wanted.

Logan pulled Finn’s sweatpants down and wrapped a hand around his cock. He looked up at him as he wrapped his lips around the head and then closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt Finn suck in a breath, felt his thumb brush over the delicate skin under his eye.

“You’re gorgeous, you know?” Finn said softly. “Oh—”

Logan sunk down further, hollowing his cheeks and relishing on the heat that spilled on his tongue. He got his knees under him more, cock throbbing with each brush of his own thigh, so he could raise to suck just the head into his mouth, then lower, just for a moment, until his lips brushed Finn’s balls. He pulled back and off for air and smiled a little, cheeks flushed. Finn had his head tilted back, his mouth open, panting with the brush of Logan’s throat.

“You’re so good,” Logan said, and sucked Finn down again. Finn moaned, hips pushing into Logan’s mouth. Logan sputtered a little but hooked his arms under Finn’s hips when he went to pull back and kept him there, bobbing his head faster.

“Logan,” Finn’s voice was tight, his name ending with a loud punch of breath. “Lo, baby, oh god.”

Logan pulled off with a gasp and leaned down to lick at Finn’s balls, taking one into his mouth, then the other. His cock was making a mess inside his own sweatpants as he took Finn down again. He was a warm, solid weight on his tongue, and Logan wanted him inside. Logan sucked hard once more, then looked up at Finn.

“Fuck me,” Logan said. “Harzy.”

Finn’s arms looked a little shaky as he pushed himself up into a sitting position and when Logan laughed, Finn slapped his chest before pushing him onto his back.

“I love you,” Finn said, and hovered above him. He was on his forearms so that his hands could stroke through Logan’s hair, and his kisses were open-mouthed and sloppy. “Oh, I love you.”

Finn was dripping on Logan’s thighs, darkening the material of is sweatpants.

Logan reached blindly in the direction of the bedside table. “Lube.”

“Let me get it, I’ll get it,” Finn was breathless, pink from his cheeks to his neck.

Logan let Finn roll away, and brought his ankles up to kick off his sweatpants. On the way back down, Finn was back and he caught Logan’s ankles, grinning as he pulled them to rest on his shoulders.

“This is new,” he said.

Logan laughed. “Kinda hot, too.”

Finn tilted his head to kiss along one of Logan’s calves. He bit lightly at the muscle on the inside of his knee.

“Didn’t know I had a thing for jocks, but…” Finn ran his palm over the swell of Logan’s ass appreciatively. “Between Leo and you…okay, then.”

“Hm,” Logan hummed, pressing his calves down on Finn’s shoulders to lift his ass up towards him. His cock was a dark, neglected red against his stomach. “You look so good, c’mon.”

“Keep telling me I’m good and I might just come.”

“Non, don’t.”

Finn pushed his hips forward so that the wet tip of his dick dragged messily against Logan’s entrance. “Non?”

Logan’s eyes slipped closed and his grin felt a little drunk. “Harz.”

Finn smiled, kissed the inside of Logan’s ankle, then wrapped his arms around Logan’s legs to keep them there while he clicked open the lube. “Okay, here we go.”

Logan settled back into the pillows. “I used to pretend it was you when I did this to myself.”

Finn’s fingers worked slowly and Logan bit his lip.

“When?” Finn’s voice came softly.

“Shower,” Logan said. “Sometimes—sometimes at night. With you right there. My stupider decisions.”

“I knew it,” Finn said, and twisted his fingers just so, making them both smile when Logan let out a low moan.

“Accidentally said your name once.”

Finn’s gaze snapped to his, his fingers stilling. Logan could remember it almost perfectly. The blood-chilling dread that had followed after he’d let the word slip into their small room. Finn.

“Did you,” Logan curled his fingers over Finn’s thighs, voice dropping. “Did you hear me?”

Finn’s nod was slow, and his voice even softer. “Yeah.”

And then Finn was leaning forward, Logan’s legs falling against his sides so that they could press together.

“Say my name now,” Finn whispered.

Logan’s breath hitched as he felt the head of Finn’s cock at his entrance. “Finn.”

“Say it again,” Finn’s mouth dragged up his neck, and Logan still didn’t know what it was about that. It made him crazy.

Logan clutched at him. “Finn.”

Finn pressed inside him slowly, and Logan didn’t need him to ask again.

“Finn,” Logan’s voice rose, and then broke over his name as Finn drew back and then into him again, and again.

“This is what I pictured when I heard you,” Finn murmured, shoving their hips together in slow, long rocks. “God, Logan.”

Logan wound his legs and arms around him. His palms slipped on Finn’s slick back. Finn smelled like sweat and himself. Logan had fallen asleep to that scent on bus rides when he couldn’t touch him, he scored goals to that scent when Finn, soaked with sweat and adrenaline, would crash him into the boards. Logan heard himself make some sort of broken sound, because Finn was going to be all over him after this, inside of him.

“I love you, Lo,” Finn said, arms around Logan’s back and shoulders, his knees against his hips. Finn fucked like he never needed to stop, like they were wound together so tightly they’d never separate.

“I love—” Logan’s back arched up against Finn on its own when Finn jammed his prostate. “Ah—”

His cock ached with every brush of Finn’s chest against his own, until Finn finally reached between them and wrapped a hand around him. Logan’s breathing hitched and his eyes felt suddenly wet.

“I love you.”

Finn forgave him. Finn forgave him.

Logan held on tighter, finding Finn’s mouth with his own, and said it again. “I love you.”

Logan came between them suddenly. Finn licked into his slack mouth, but Logan pressed him closer when he stilled, moving to pull out.

“Non, stay,” Logan panted, voice pitching up at the end of his word, then giving out as his orgasm shook through him. “Stay.”

Finn stayed, smiling. “You’re never one-and-done, are you?”

Logan’s smile felt delirious. “Good thing I have two of you—fuck, do that again.”

Logan’s fingers tangling into Finn’s sweaty hair, and they kissed as Finn rocked into Logan gently.

“Think about when we’re all together again,” Finn whispered.

“Stay,” Logan said.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Stay.”

“Shh, baby,” Finn whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. His movements were gentle, and small enough so they were never apart. “I’m here.”

Logan’s cock dripped steadily between them as Finn brushed his prostate over and over, and Logan felt wound tight and boneless, all at once.

“Oh, Lo,” Finn groaned, and flexed his hips into Logan harder.

Logan kissed Finn’s neck, teeth scraping into his skin. Logan felt surrounded by him.

“I’m coming,” he found himself saying, because it felt like he still was. Finn’s cock was rubbing up consistently against his walls, and his own cock was red in the tacky pool of come on his stomach. Logan could hear himself panting for breath. His muscles still felt tight, his toes curled against Finn’s calves. He groaned, head falling back against the pillows instead, pushing himself up against Finn’s cock, heavy inside of him.

“Logan,” Finn’s voice was shaky. “Lo, I’m gonna—” he said, and then wet heat filled Logan up. Finn fucked in one more time and stayed there, forehead pressed to Logan’s.

The heat that tore through him made him dig his nails into Finn’s back. Finn was making soft noises as his cock pulsed, and Logan could feel some drip down between his thighs.

Finn was stroking his hair back from his forehead, sweaty and hot, and kissing his jaw. Logan tucked himself against Finn. He was too big, too broad, really, but Finn covered him up with his body, kissing him and all but melting them together. Finn pressed in one last time with a low sound, and then fell against Logan’s chest. They breathed hard against each other in the aftershock, kissing slowly, languidly.

Finn pulled out when he was too sensitive, and Logan rolled them over, thigh thrown over Finn’s hips to kiss him some more. He kissed Finn’s cheeks, and his neck, and every part of skin he could reach without having to pull away. He left marks, smudges that said he had been there—even if no one else would know. He would know. He would be proud, and he would be happy.

Finn, unusually, melted back against the sheets and let Logan do as he wanted. He lay back when Logan told him to. When Logan went to the bathroom and cleaned them up. When Logan came back, pulling the covers over them and laying on his back, it was Finn’s head against his chest and Logan’s hand stroking through his hair.

“Today,” Finn began, and then hesitated. “Today freaked me out.”

“I know, I could tell,” Logan said. “You’re allowed to be freaked out. You’ve watched me and Leo both freak out and been there for us. Let us be there for you. What can I do?”

Finn’s fingers were fidgeting with Logan’s necklace. “I think I’ll be okay. I just didn’t know that would happen.” Finn raised his chin to look up at him. “We’ve come a long way from hard nights,” he smiled. “Not to say there won’t be more but…”

Logan cupped his cheek. “We can talk to each other. We can say that we love each other.”

Finn smiled, just a little. “Says the boy who hates talking.”

Logan smiled, too, leaning in to brush their lips together. “Yeah, but I love hearing you talk. And read. And moan my name—”

Finn tilted his chin up to kiss some more before pulling Logan more firmly against him.

“We get to see Nutter tomorrow.”

Logan hummed. “Think he just walks around naked because it’s so hot?”

Finn snorted. “Probably not. It’s a nice thought though.”

“Thinks he has a million bookshelves?” Logan smiled at the thought, of Leo curled up in his childhood room, of Leo showing them everything he had ever loved before he loved them.

“Oh, definitely.”

“Yeah. What did he say when you called him?”

“Told me to find you,” Finn raised his head. “Listen, I didn’t call Leo because I didn’t think you could help. I just…I need him just as much as I need you.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Logan hushed him. “I’m the same. And also I’m…I don’t know how to say it other than, I was part of the problem.” He kissed Finn softly. “I know.”

“Okay,” Finn said, and pressed back against Logan, nose against his neck. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Logan just held him tighter. “I won’t.”

They were both groggy from the plane. Logan had his headphones around his neck and his hat shoved into the elastic side pocket of his backpack.

“I can feel the humidity already,” Logan said. “Where’s Nut?”

Finn took out his phone. “He can’t exactly get through security. Arrivals, probably. I texted him that we landed. He didn’t—oh, he said he’s walking from parking now.”

Logan jumped once, keeping in pace with Finn. “I want him. How long do you think we’re going to be surrounded by family? Not that I don’t love them but fuck.”

“Stop it, you’re getting me going.”

Logan sent him a sleepy smile as they followed the signs to arrivals.

And there Leo was, standing in a t-shirt and shorts with a backwards hat on—not Lions colored, as if that would help him not get recognized if someone knew what they were looking for. His sunglasses were folded into his shirt and he was searching the crowd in his careful way.

“Oh, fuck me,” Logan heard Finn breathe.

Logan gave Finn a small shove. “C’mon, let’s see how close we can get before he sees us.”

Not very close. A second later, Leo was grinning at them. They walked forward quickly and stopped right in front of him. Logan’s heart was pounding.

“Hi,” Leo sounded breathless.

Their hugs weren’t what they would have been away from prying eyes, but Finn clutched Leo as hard as he could, whispering in his ear.

“We missed you so much. So fucking much.”

Logan watched them for a moment and then Leo was turning to him.

“Hi, Tremz.”

Logan wanted to kiss him, wanted to curl his fingers under his shirt to the small of his back where he was always warmest. Instead, he let Leo pull him in for a quick hug.

“Flight was okay?” Leo asked, and took their suitcases from them. When they looked at him, he laughed. “What?”

“Nothing,” Logan said softly, and he and Finn shared a look as they watched Leo lead the way outside. They loved him.

Logan froze after they stepped out of the airport. He held his hands up, as if testing for rain.

“Are—” he began, then looked up. “Are we under a heater?”

Leo laughed. “No. That’s NOLA for you.”

“Oh god,” Logan said faintly.

Finn, however, walked right into the sunshine and tilted his head up. “I will never be cold again.”

“You’ll get sunburned, though,” Logan grumbled.

“Aw, Harz,” Leo said, then more softly, “Love you. C’mon, boys, car’s this way.”

Leo lead the way towards the parking lot, and walked ahead a little when he got out his keys and his car lit up.

Logan felt his steps slow, and Finn’s beside him.

“Leo—Leo drives a Jeep,” Finn said softly to Logan.

“Leo drives a Jeep,” Logan repeated.

“I’m…”

“Yeah.”

The top was open to the air, windows down. Leo swung the suitcases into the trunk, and Logan watched his muscles move beneath his shirt.

“I want…” he grumbled and Finn laughed, squeezing the back of his neck.

The moment they were in the car, Leo in the driver’s seat with Finn beside him, Logan leaned forward from the back and wrapped his arms around Leo the best he could, burying his nose into the place where his curls fanned out around his ears. Logan hummed, pressing kiss after kiss there.

“Tremz, you’re killing me here,” Leo laughed, then turned his face, shaded by the car and some thick trees, and let Logan kiss him. The angle was awkward, and Logan knew he was using way too much tongue, but Leo melted back into his seat for it. Finn reached forward to put a hand on his neck.

“You are tan,” Finn said. “How do you do that?”

Logan had a sudden urge to see where the sun hadn’t reached.

“Okay, okay,” Leo laughed between kisses. “Let me get us out of here.”

Logan just dipped his head down a little farther and nipped at Leo’s neck, just over Finn’s fingers.

“Tremz,” Leo said, leaning into it.

“D’accord,” Logan said, and sat back. “That’ll be okay for now.”

“Well, don’t I get a snack before dinner, too?” Finn said, and then pulled Leo in and kissed him—albeit more gently than Logan had.

“Hi, Butter,” he smiled.

“My name is just slowly devolving into food products,” Leo smiled. “Hi.”

Leo unfolded his sunglasses and slid them on, pushing the button to start the car. “Ready?”

“So fucking ready,” Finn said, and put his sunglasses on, too.

Logan tilted his head back and closed his eyes, letting the overwhelming heat sink in. “Allez.”

Leo’s house was bright and large, all creams and whites. There were thick, white columns, and the entire front was framed by two turreted, oriel windows. There was a gate, and then oak trees, cypresses and small white flowers that cascaded over the porches and steps.

“Well Jesus,” Finn said, standing up a little in his seat. “Not what I was expecting.”

Leo glanced up at him as he pulled through the round about. “No?”

“I mean…” Finn laughed. “I don’t know.”

“C’est très beau,” Logan said, pushing himself up using the back of Leo’s seat. “Fuck me, it’s hot.”

Leo turned the car off. “Let’s get out of the sun. I’m sure my mom—”

“There they are!”

They looked up to one of the great, wooden doors opening. Eloise and Wyatt stepped out, Wyatt more calmly than his wife. Eloise was waving to them with both arms.

“Yep,” Leo laughed. “C’mon.”

“Oh, Finn,” Eloise said when they climbed the porch steps and into the shade of the overhang. “You won’t last a second in this sun, honey, let’s get you inside.”

Finn smiled. “Yeah, sunscreen is big in my family.”

“Logan,” Eloise smiled and hugged him, too. “I’ve got some iced tea and lunch all ready.”

Logan stared up at the entrance hall, all high ceilings and clean tiles and dark wood. There were shawls hanging on hooks by the door, mingled with leaning hockey sticks. Logan recognized Leo’s favorite Nikes. He was suddenly very aware that Leo lived here. It was sort of like getting used to coming home to him everyday. But this was Leo’s, and it had been Leo’s for years and years. Logan wanted to walk through every room and look for little signs of him.

“We have the dining room, sure,” Wyatt smiled, gesturing to it. “But, I don’t know, we always liked the kitchen better it being just the three of us and all. Come on through, boys.”

“We’ll eat, and then you can take showers or a nap or whatever you want,” Eloise said.

Oh, yeah, Logan thought. Whatever we want.

“This looks amazing,” Logan said as they walked into the kitchen.

The table was half surrounded by chairs, and half by a curved window seat in one of the oriel windows. The table itself was laden with pressed, pork paninis, along with what looked like creamy side dishes, and vegetable salads.

“Thank you, Tremzy,” Eloise’s smile was wide. “You all sit down, me and Wyatt’ll get the silverware and the pie.”

It was cool inside and Logan let out a breath when he scooted into the window seat after Finn had, and then Leo. He watched them smiling at each other as Leo put two sandwiches on Finn’s plate and poured him some tea. It made Logan smile, too. He was about to reach for the sandwiches when Leo turned to him.

“You want two, too?” Leo said softly. His accent sounded stronger, maybe from being around family.

Logan nodded, feeling helpless and in love. “Yeah, sure.”

“You want tea?”

“Ouais.”

“You two okay? You’re all quiet.”

Logan looked at Finn, who laughed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been better in my life,” Finn said.

“Well—good,” Leo said.

Logan glanced at where Leo’s parents were coming back over.

“We’ll tell you later.”

The food was delicious, but what Finn really loved was how, when they were done, Leo helped bring all of the plates over and then began silently sort of trying to wave them out of their seats and towards the main staircase.

“Alright, well, see you boys, then,” Wyatt laughed. “Leo, I don’t want you to have the boat out too late, so keep that in mind.”

Eloise smiled. “Oh, they have time. It’s a big house, don’t worry about anything.”

“Mama,” Leo said. “And dad, you just ruined the surprise!”

Wyatt whistled. “Oh, damn, sorry…”

“We’ll be over at the Bailey’s next door for drinks, okay? See you boys when you get back,” Eloise said.

Leo groaned and took one of both their hands, pulling them towards the stairs. “Okay, okay, we’re going now.”

Finn sent Eloise a last grin, which probably didn’t thwart her ideas at all, and let Leo pull him away.

They climbed the stairs too close together, their feet barely missing each other.

“This house is so cool,” Logan said. “I see why you miss it. It feels like home.”

“Yeah,” Finn said, eyeing the bookshelves that lined the hallway they were going down, caught in dusty light between windows. “I like it here.”

And they were finally alone.

Finn used Leo’s hand to pull him into his chest, and kissed him hard. Leo sighed into it, and Finn felt Logan at their sides a moment later.

“Leo,” Logan urged, and then Finn was watching them kiss. It was like breathing.

“Missed you two,” Leo panted when Logan finally let him go. “Jesus.”

They stood there between the sun streaks coming through the window, swaying a little together.

“Lo, do you want to take your shower?”

Logan raised his head from Leo’s chest and looked up at him. “What?”

Leo nodded his head in what Finn assumed was the direction of the nearest bathroom. “You take showers after you go on planes.”

Logan’s expression went soft.

“You can,” Leo said. “But then we’re going out.”

Logan’s eyebrows drew together. “Out?”

“Yeah,” Leo’s smile was slow and he began tugging them down the hall. “I wanna show you guys stuff. Take you out to dinner.”

“But I haven’t seen you in…” Logan asked. “And I need to go out into public right away?”

“Not that we won’t have time for that,” Leo stopped in front of a door. “But that can happen at dinner. You think I’m not dying, too?”

“At dinner,” Finn repeated, then looked at Logan. “He says we can have sex at dinner, Leo, how the hell can we have sex at dinner, where are you taking us?”

Leo grinned and sat up. “You’ll see. Lo?”

“I don’t want to shower, I want to have sex at dinner apparently,” Logan said, then pulled Leo closer. “I just want to be with you.”

Leo toured them all around, drove them through wide and narrow streets, watched as Logan purchased some sort of rum-filled, sugary drink that Logan forced Finn to take a sip of. There were beads hanging from trees, colorful and glinting in the sunlight.

The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, the heat receding a little, when they pulled up to the docks.

It made Leo golden as he pulled two coolers from the trunk, and then walked them down the boards. Logan couldn’t look away.

“Here she is,” Leo grinned, and gestured towards a small motorboat, glossy white with wake-boards hooked to the top, and leather seats. “Our restaurant for the night.”

“Oh,” Finn said. “I see.”

“Sex on a boat,” Logan nodded.

“Dinner on a boat,” Leo said.

Logan walked forward and wrapped his arms around him. “You on a boat.”

Leo smiled before climbing carefully aboard and setting the coolers down by the steering wheel. “C’mon.”

Finn gave Logan a little shove as he was climbing into the boat, but laughed when Logan flinched, holding tightly onto his shoulders.

“Mais, non!” Logan laughed as they jostled each other onto the slightly more solid ground. He shoved him back once they were on firm footing. “Harz.”

Finn laughed and fell back onto one of the leather seats, warmed by the sun. “Now I see, we’ll be in the surrounded by water. If some type of water police catches us, is that bad?”

“Water police?” Leo laughed. He sent Logan a soft smile when Logan began helping him untie the ropes and bring the buoys in.

Finn grinned. “Well, now you’re both going on sailor on me. Untying rope.”

Leo snorted and threw a loop of his rope over Finn’s head, pulling until it pulled Finn’s neck forward lightly.

“Sailor, huh?”

Finn smiled lazily up at him. “Yeah.”

Logan wished they were out on the water already, so he could kiss Leo like he wanted to, but instead he settled for helping him push the boat away from the docks while Leo started the engine. He’d flipped his sunglasses down over his eyes, and Logan followed.

“You’ve been on a boat before, Tremz,” Leo said when Logan came to stand beside him at the wheel. Leo was perched on the top of the chair, long legs stretching down to the ground. He looked relaxed and happy.

“Yeah, at home. My friend had one growing up. We’d go out on the lake in the summer. Fish sometimes, or swim.”

They were pulling away from the land, and every second made Logan happier. The wind picked up with the engine until they were flying. Finn shouted over the roar and Logan looked back, squinting in the sun as he tried to smile for the phone Finn was holding up. He probably looked stupid, but he didn’t care. Because now the docks were small, the shore was far away, and he could push against Leo’s side. The wind was cool, and Leo’s chest through his t-shirt was sun-warmed. Logan pressed his nose against him. He smelled like the sun, too. Leo kissed his forehead, one hand on the wheel, and one around Logan’s back. Logan hoped Finn was taking a picture of this, too. Logan had never really hoped for pictures before.

“Love you,” Leo said, voice close to his ear to be heard.

Logan tilted his head against Leo’s chest and reached out to trace the muscles in his forearm that flexed as he steered the boat.

“Love you, too,” Logan replied.

Leo smiled and drew the speed down until the motor was a steady bubble, and the heat warmed the goosebumps on Logan’s arms from the wind.

“This is nice,” Finn sighed and Logan looked back to see him sprawled over a flat, padded area at the back of the boat, eyes closed.

There was some type of board walk in the distance, but mostly they were shaded by a ring of gnarled looking trees that made a U-shaped little cove. Leo dropped anchor, and they had it all to themselves. The sun was lower but still hot, and Leo pulled out a canopy from somewhere among the equipment above, pinning to the sides of the boat so that it stretched like a tent above them. It offered shade. Seclusion.

“Pre-dinner swim, what do you think?” Leo asked before stripping off his shirt.

“What?” Finn sat up. “I didn’t wear—”

The words died in his mouth, though, when Leo, practically smirking, undid the buttons of his shorts next. Logan felt his pulse jump at the sound of Leo slowly pulling his zipper down.

“Oh,” Finn said, then laughed.

“Yeah?” Leo asked.

“Ouais, ouais,” Logan said. “Leo.”

Leo grinned and reached for Logan again, pulling his t-shirt over his head for him, then leaning down for a kiss, hands on Logan’s chest.

“I’m just having fun imagining you planning this,” Logan heard Finn say. “‘I’m gonna get Finn and Logan on my boat, and then I’m gonna get them naked, in the water, and then I’m gonna feed them dinner.’”

“You’ve never been skinny dipping before, Fish?” Leo said, pulling away, eyes lingering on where Logan was kicking off his shorts, too.

“Nope,” Finn said, rolling onto his back to push his shorts off before standing and ridding himself of his shirt. “But I’m extremely open to it. Sunscreen. I need sunscreen.”

Leo walked forward and wrapped his arms around Finn, tucking his hands right into his briefs to cup his ass. “Sun’s never seen this, huh.”

“First time for everything,” Finn said after a moment, and kissed Leo soundly as he pushed his briefs down.

Logan, to his own surprised, didn’t feel exposed standing there naked on Leo’s boat. The sun was orange, low enough to turn the clouds pink, and it dappled through the trees, making the water look smooth and inviting. He put one foot on the side of the boat and looked over. He could see the bottom, sandy and rocky, but it was deep enough to jump.

“I’m dating a couple of Greek gods,” Finn sighed. “Fuck, Tremz, you look like one of those statues. My own Patroclus and Achilles.”

Leo laughed. “Who does that make you?”

Finn looked into the water, too, before stepping up onto the padded back he was dozing on before. “Apollo, come to crash the party.”

And he jumped, making the boat rock.

Leo pressed up behind Logan, all skin on warm skin. “Ça va?”

“This heat’s gonna kill me,” Logan grinned, looking back and up at him. “Allez.”

Finn surfaced, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “Come on, it’s perfect here.”

Leo pressed up and over the side of the boat like a jump over the boards, before tucking himself neatly into a canon ball and giving Finn a face full of salty water.

“Come on, Lo!”

Finn and Leo looked up at him, and Logan could barely believe it all.

Logan didn’t jump into anything except fights. Throwing the gloves down was easy. There were time limits to the consequences, and they were never anything more than a few minutes. Everything else—who knew what would happen. Logan wasn’t a jumper. Finn was. Finn always had been. While Logan watched and waited and thought and didn’t, Finn loved and went and acted and did. And Leo…Leo jumped more than anyone gave him credit for. Logan hadn’t been eighteen when he got to the NHL, and he didn’t know how he would have turned out if he had been.

“It’s super nice,” Leo called up.

Finn splashed the water. “C’mon, baby.”

Logan smiled, looking down at them, and jumped. The water was beyond relieving. The salt stung his eyes a little, but it felt good, in the way salt water did. Logan knew it would dry on his skin later and feel even better. When he came up and shook the water from his eyes, Finn had dived down to touch the bottom and Leo was smiling at him.

“Nice?”

Logan pushed forward until he could wrap his arms and legs around Leo. He felt—clingy, he guessed. Since being apart. He could feel every part of Leo against him and Leo made a pleased sound.

“Very,” Logan said.

Leo let them float for a minute before they sank under the water again. Leo kissed him, surprising Logan with his eyes closed, and Logan had to come up for air and to laugh.

Finn floated beside him, the sky darkening a little and revealing the first of its stars. Logan looked up at the anchored boat, and thought about how they had all night.

“The Cup arrives tomorrow,” Finn said as they floated together.

Leo grinned. “Crazy. They’re throwing a parade for me. I think it’s gonna be insane.”

“You deserve all the parades,” Finn said.

Leo rolled his eyes but smiled. “I just wish…” he looked between them.

“You deserve that, too,” Logan said. “Whenever it comes.”

Leo’s smile was still happy, if not wistful. “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Logan said. “And I mean here here, but also…here.”

“Better start believing it,” Finn tread closer and pulled Logan back against him. Logan laughed, but it was true. He did feel like he was starting—starting everything anew.

This could be the first kiss we forgive ourselves for, Finn had said.

And—Logan did. He forgave. He loved them.

They climbed up the ladder at the back of the boat a while later, limbs tired from racing and treading water, and Leo pulled towels out for them from under a seat. They were big and well-loved, and Logan got as much water out of his hair as he could before draping it over the front seats to dry and stepping back into his underwear.

“Just three naked dudes on a boat,” Finn said absentmindedly as he pulled his shorts back on. “It’s getting dark.”

“That’s why we have these,” Leo said and produced two lanterns and a few candles from another compartment that Logan hadn’t noticed. He hooked the lanterns to the ceiling and turned them on. They bathed everything in a soft, yellow light.

“Hungry?” he asked while lighting the candles.

“Yes,” Finn sighed. He grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him down onto one of the seats, gathering him against his chest. Logan sunk back into it.

“Hey, Lo, smile,” Finn said, and then he had his phone out, camera flipped to show them. Finn ducked so that their cheeks were pressed together and pressed a palm over Logan’s heart. With Finn’s chest pressed to his back, Logan could feel Finn’s. They both looked sun-tanned and, even to himself, deliriously happy.

“Tremz, can you pull that part out there? It’s like a little table from the back just beside you.”

Logan leaned forward and found the plastic divot that Leo was gesturing to. It slid out from beneath the cushion and into a temporary table, which Leo, underwear now on, set the coolers on top of. He looked at the two of them.

“I’m about to blow your mind.”

“You do that often,” Finn said, fingers drumming on Logan’s thigh.

Leo smiled. “No. Really.” He opened the cooler and brandished it towards them. “Crab.”

Inside the cooler was ice and crab legs.

“Crab,” Finn repeated.

“The mind blowing part comes when you eat it. It’s in season. Now, here we’ve got potatoes and some corn and hopefully some of it’ll be warm but…I wanted it on the boat, so…small sacrifices. Got some beer, too, if you want it,” Leo pulled it out from below the ice, setting things on the table as he talked. Logan was going to kiss him.

“And I’ve got strawberry shortcakes,” Leo said, and he was blushing a little. “For my strawberry and my…”

“Shortcake,” Finn laughed.

Leo laughed and leaned down to kiss Logan’s scowl. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I laugh every time I think about it I had to, you’re not short, really.”

“You sound so convincing.”

“You’re not, but you sure are a cake,” Leo kissed him again, squeezing his thighs, and Logan smiled this time.

“I guess I can live with that,” Logan said, and kissed him back.

“Cream’s on ice, too, so that’s good. And…yep.” Leo reached into the cooler and held up what looked like a hammer. “Y’all know how to eat crab?”

“Why…is that hot,” Finn said, and Logan nodded. Leo just smiled.

They made a mess on top of the table cloth Leo had set out, laughing as they cracked the shells and sucked out the meat.

“I’m so bad at this,” Finn said, picking his way through one of the last bits.

“Here,” Leo leaned over and broke into the shell with practiced fingers.

“How?”

Leo smiled and shrugged.

Logan watched the two of them, finishing off his own. He looked around them in the darkness. They were lit by the candlelight now, and the lanterns. The sky still had some light, but the sun was below the horizon and it would soon be gone. It was like it was only the three of them in the world. The stars were plentiful and vast from where they were sitting in the back, but the lantern hanging in the center of the little canopy Leo had set up made it look like their own little tent, private and out of sight.

“Where did you fall?” Finn asked.

“When did I fall?” Leo said. “For you? Um. Probably when you—”

“Non, non,” Finn laughed softly. “Where. Where did you hit your head?”

Leo tilted his head. “What? Oh! Oh, getting onto the boat.” He pointed to the side, and then towards the steering wheel. “Hit my head on the windshield corner.”

Finn hissed through his teeth. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty,” Leo said, but smiled as Logan reached out to touch the lighter hair.

“When did you fall, though?” Logan asked, and Leo smiled.

“I don’t know, exactly,” Leo kicked the cooler out from beneath the table and retrieved the strawberries and cream he had pointed to before, as well as three fluffy looking biscuits. “I guess just…doing stuff together.” Leo laughed as he prepared the desert, scooping strawberries onto the breads. “I sort of thought it was just adrenaline at first. Me wanting you, I mean. But then we were roommates, at home or away, and then we starting hanging out off the rink and…well, I loved you.” Leo pushed the plates towards them. “I loved you both.”

Logan tilted his head back, heart feeling tight again.

“I know we went back to Harvard,” Finn said suddenly. “And I know what you said about feeling like you missed out a while back. I don’t know, I just want to make sure you know that we missed you the whole time.”

“How,” Leo began, looking between them. “How are you now?”

Logan wasn’t sure which one of them he was talking to, but he looked back at Finn who tightened his arms around him.

“We got some stuff out,” Finn said, then laughed a little. “And I guess I sort of…let some stuff in.”

“And I said sorry,” Logan said.

“And I forgave you,” Finn kissed his cheek. “But also you forgave you.”

Logan rolled his eyes but smiled as he took a bite. “Yeah, I know.”

Leo leaned back in his seat, smiling at the two of them. “Good.”

Finn sighed. “And then this one came, like, three times.”

Leo laughed out loud. “That is his way.”

Logan groaned. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh, baby,” Finn laughed. “We don’t want you to help it.” Then, he looked back up at Leo. “But, really. We missed you, Peanut.”

“We don’t like being without you.”

“Me too,” Leo said softly. “I don’t know, I just…it’s funny being in the NHL, in Gryffindor, and then coming home to aunts and uncles and older cousins. Like, to them, I’m still just sort of nineteen. And I am nineteen, but…I don’t know I’ve been feeling like I used to feel. Being home. Being without you.” Leo looked out at the water. “Like I’m right back where I started, not out to anyone except my parents, just some kid with this really tedious dream and sort of—ready to be lonely forever.”

“Leo,” Logan said.

Leo looked at them and laughed a little, pushing his hair back. “That was my long way of saying that I missed you, too. And in saying that…” he bit his lip and stood. “I have something.”

“You have something?”

Leo waved his hand as he bent at the floor, popping up a storage pit. “Planned, I have something planned. That I’ve always wanted to do with…well, with a boyfriend. Boyfriends.”

Logan looked back at Finn. “Boyfriends.”

Then, Leo started pulling out blankets. And pillows. His smile was giddy as he lay them out beneath the canopy, the boat rocking gently, and the pillows piled high. Leo gestured to it with both hands when he was done.

“Sex on a boat.”

“That sounds like the name of a tropical drink,” Finn said.

Logan nodded. “I’m in.” He stood, the blankets soft beneath his bare feet as he walked over the bed to pull Leo to him. “You’re so…”

“Sweet?” Finn said, and Logan smiled.

“Oui.”

Finn took one step up and then fell into the center of the blankets, stretching out on his back. Leo took Logan by the hands, sitting down and pulling Logan down with him. Logan sank slowly, knees straddling Leo’s hips, laying his head against Leo’s chest.

Finn turned onto his side so he was closer to them and ran a hand through Logan’s hair. “Leo hog.”

“Va te faire,” Logan grumbled and raised an eyebrow when Finn made a face. “You don’t know what I said.”

“Tone of voice,” Finn laughed. “Move over a little, then, I missed him, too.”

Leo put an arm out for Finn to roll into, face tucking against his shoulder. “I’ll just sit here watching y’all fight over me.”

Logan leaned down to press kisses to Finn’s face at the same time Leo did, and Finn made a soft sound.

“Look at you,” Leo laughed and wrapped his arm more tightly around Finn. “Letting us snug you.”

Finn laughed a little, too, but it was different somehow in Logan’s ears. Something was bothering him. “I let you snug me.”

“Yeah, for a second, and then you snug us.”

“We snug each other.”

Logan snorted and met Leo’s eyes over Finn’s head.

“Well, fine, fine.” Leo stroked Finn’s hair, cheek resting at Finn’s temple. “This is nice, though.”

Finn just pushed closer and Logan reached out a stroke his fingers over his neck. They were quiet, full and sun-tired and sated, until Finn sat up on the blankets and turned to face them, cross-legged.

“Guys,” Finn began.

“Hm?” Leo responded.

Logan pushed himself up onto a forearm on Leo’s chest. Something was wrong.

“I was thinking…” Finn cleared his throat. “I was thinking.”

“Who, you?” Logan tried, seeing if Finn would smile. When he did, Logan’s chest eased a little.

“I was thinking about trying something.”

“Okay,” Leo said. “Sure, what is it?”

Finn let out a shaky breath. Then, he looked between them.

“You and Lo,” Finn began. “You two like it when I fuck you and…I don’t know, maybe—I’d…like it, too.”

Logan felt his entire body flush with a spike of heat. It was a like his heart tried to slow down and speed up all at once, like a full-force tug. Oh.

Finn looked down at his hands. The top of his nose and cheeks were a little red from the sun, his hair curly from the salt, and he wanted—

Logan let himself drop back down, forehead against Leo’s shoulder. He was turned on. He was dizzy with it.

“Finn,” Leo’s voice was faint, his fingers pressing into the skin of Logan’s bare back.

“We don’t have to tonight,” Finn said. “I’d seriously be happy, more like fucking elated, with any and all, I was just—”

“Would you want to, though?” Leo asked. “Tonight, I mean? Because I…I’d want to.”

“I might not like it,” Finn said. “But yeah. Yeah.”

They both looked at Logan and all Logan could do was stare at Finn.

“You…” Logan was already nodding. “Finn.”

“Lay down, lay down,” Leo sat up and took Finn’s hands, pulling him until Finn was on his back again.

Logan pushed up from Leo to settle on Finn’s other side, hand going to rest above the zip of Finn’s shorts. Finn glanced up at him while Leo got up and reached for the glove box.

“Since when?” Logan asked Finn, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth.

“I don’t know,” Finn said, hips pushing up gently against Logan’s hand, which was rubbing him gently through his shorts. “It’s not like I never thought about it, but I never…thought thought about it until…well, the night we won the Cup.”

“The Cup?” Leo said, settling back down between Finn’s legs.

“Yeah,” Finn tilted his head to the side, eyes going a little foggy. “It was just—a really intense night. I mean all of it, winning, the parties…”

“The sex,” Logan finished for him, and he was dizzy all over again. It had been intense, making their way back to their apartment and falling into Finn’s bed. The night had stretched forever. It had been fierce, rolling into each other, keeping each other weighted down, close and safe from floating away with it all.

Finn smiled. “Yeah. You two. I…I like being that close to you. And I thought maybe you could be that close to me, too.”

Leo put his hand over Logan’s. It pressed Logan’s palm harder against where Finn was growing stiff in his clothes. Leo popped the button open and leaned down to kiss over the hard muscles of Finn’s stomach.

“Just tell us how it goes, okay?” Leo said. “We can switch it up if you want.”

“Literally,” Finn laughed, but it was breathless.

Logan could tell he was nervous, could feel his heart beneath his palm. He leaned over, the pendant of his necklace falling onto Finn’s skin, and kissed over where his palm had been.

Leo pulled Finn’s shorts off while Logan kept him busy with hard, lingering kisses. Leo looked up at them and felt as surreal as ever. Ever since the Cup, Leo had been waking up every morning and reciting the list of events to himself, almost making sure they still felt real.

Finn. Logan. Falling in love. Making best friends. Coming out to them. Winning a Cup. Falling more in love. Taking Logan and Finn home. Knowing they missed him. Experiencing a sort of trust that he’d never even known before.

Finn’s skin was soft beneath his hands. There was salt dried on it, and he bent to taste the clean scent of it. It mixed with Finn’s arousal, making him ache. Finn’s cock was half hard, twitching as Leo eased his palms around it, not quite touching. He hadn’t been sure if Finn would ever want to be fucked. He and Logan had talked about it a few times, wondering if they should ask again, but they had decided to let Finn bring it up, if he wanted. And now—

“Lay back,” Logan was laughing, palm on Finn’s chest.

“I want to see,” Finn said.

Leo snorted. “You’re not really going to be able to see anything yet.”

“But…”

“You’re such a baby,” Logan sighed, but stood, kicking his clothes off and then sliding behind Finn, cradling him between his thighs and arms. Finn was still slumped low, and Logan smiled at Leo, resting his chin on Finn’s shoulder as he wrapped a hand around his cock. “There.”

Leo watched them, getting out of his shorts and squeezing his hardening cock, and then Finn looked up at him.

Finn gave him a smile. “Okay, cool, ready.”

“Cool,” Leo laughed, but instead of reaching down, he pushed forward onto his hands and knees, hovering over Finn’s body. “That’s not what you do for us, though, is it?”

Finn blinked. “What?”

Leo bent to kiss Finn’s neck, pressing their hips together so that Logan could wrap his hand around both of them at once. Finn gasped and Leo fucked into Logan’s fist, their cocks rubbing together in his tight hold.

“You make sure we know how much you love us first, Harzy,” Leo said. “Right?”

Leo felt Logan bend to kiss the other side of Finn’s neck. “Right.”

Finn was breathing harder now. “Right…”

Leo leaned back to capture Finn in a kiss, muscles tensing as Logan jacked them quicker.

“You’re gonna come so much, sweetheart, I know it.”

Logan laughed gently. “We’ve talked about it.”

“Talked about it?” Finn asked, hands moving down to press into Leo’s ass. “When?”

“Sometimes,” Leo smiled and reached down to stroke over Finn’s thigh. He leaned back, out of Logan’s reach, his cock hard falling heavily against his thighs. “Don’t get him too good, Tremz.”

Logan retrieved his hand, stroking them down Finn’s sides instead. Finn’s cock was red and sticking straight out, wet at the tip.

“Fuck,” Finn breathed.

Leo uncapped the lube with one hand and bent to suck Finn’s cock into his mouth while he warmed it between his fingers.

“Leo…” Finn said, and then cut off when Leo gently pressed his first fingertip in.

“D’accord?” Leo heard Logan whisper, and Finn whispered a yes back. But Finn was tight, every muscle Leo could feel taught around him.

“Relax, mon rouge,” Logan whispered. “You’re okay, we’ve got you.”

Leo pulled off his cock and sat back, working his finger gently.

“I’m just not used to it,” Finn said, glancing down to try and see. “I think I need something to do.”

Logan snorted. “Of course you do.”

Leo looked up from his fingers. “I have a Rubik’s Cube around here somewhere.”

Finn laughed out loud, his head falling back into Logan’s chest right as Leo pushed in a little farther and—

“Oh,” Finn jolted, smile going slack. “Oh, fuck.”

Logan smoothed his hands down Finn’s chest. “Yeah?"

Finn’s hand reached down to grip Logan’s wrist as Leo brushed inside of him again, a strangled breath punching out of him.

Leo bent once again to suck him gently. He himself was aching and trying to starve off thoughts of pressing inside of Finn, just to calm down. Finn was panting, mouth open. He had planted his feet on the blankets and pushed back when Leo added a second finger. His cock drooled a sticky strand down his chest.

“Merde,” Logan said faintly. He reached out with his finger tip to trace along a vein in Finn’s cock and Finn jolted. “Do you like it, Harzy?”

Finn’s laugh tumbled out of him. “I guess. Leo—”

Leo had added a second finger. Finn laughed again, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Oh, fuck.”

“I didn’t know you would laugh through this,” Logan said.

“I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

“So you’re laughing?”

Finn tilted his head back to look up at Logan. “I’m between my boys who are all naked and pretty and warm. I’m happy. Fuck, Leo…”

Leo smiled. “Aw, Harzy. Can I add another? Is it okay?”

Finn nodded. “Okay, okay. What’s that, three?”

“Three, sweetheart,” Leo smiled, leaning down to kiss his hip, then the base of his cock.

“Sweetheart,” Finn breathed nonsensically, smile still on his face even though his eyes had slipped shut. “Yeah, yeah, there…”

Leo looked up at Logan and they smiled at each other. Logan’s cheeks were flushed, hair curlier than Leo had ever seen it from the salt water. His eyes were hooded and he was holding Finn against him, hips rocking forward gently.

“Still okay?” Leo said. “I think you’re ready, what do you think?”

Logan ducked down to kiss Finn’s cheek. “Want Leo, mon rouge?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah. I want Leo.”

Leo tilted his head as he gave Finn one last push, crooking his fingers up to make him groan.

“Okay, Harz,” Leo said and leaned forward to kiss him, licking into his mouth. He pulled back just enough to see Finn, eyes closed and waiting for another kiss. “This makes us feel so good,” Leo mumbled, and kissed him again. “We love you like this.”

Finn made a soft noise, eyes opening. “Good.”

Leo nipped his lip gently and pulled back, reaching for the lube again.

He pushed into Finn careful, so slowly, stopping at the first press.

“Fuck,” Finn’s palms pressed into the blankets, fingers curling for something to hold onto. He pushed back against Logan. “Fuck, fuck.”

Leo went to pull back.

“No, no, no, no,” Finn said. “Go, go, go.”

Leo took a shaky breath and pushed forward again. He watched himself sink into Finn and then had to stop, half way into the tight heat and breathing hard. His cock pulsed with the feeling, with the visual and the knowledge that this was Finn.

“Okay, Harzy?” Logan said.

Leo could hear the waves lapping at the boat as Finn nodded. Finn reached forward for Leo’s hip, guiding him the rest of the way.

Leo rocked forward and the boat seemed to rock with them. Finn’s heels slipped against the blankets and he let out a low whine that Leo had never heard before. Finn wasn’t loud.

“Shit,” Leo closed his eyes and then looked at Logan, who was practically holding Finn up. He pressed in harder, making sure he pulled all the way out before sinking in again. Finn wasn’t like Logan, who pushed back as good as he got. Finn went a little boneless, head thrown back against Logan’s shoulder and his eyes closed. Leo clutched his thighs for leverage and fucked him.

“Yes, yes…” Finn kept saying, words slurred together.

Logan whimpered and his head tilted back in a way Leo knew all too well. He was coming, hidden behind Finn, probably from the pressure of Finn’s back rubbing against him—probably from Finn’s harsh breathing.

Finn’s eyes flashed open when he felt Logan’s heat streak his back, and his cock jumped.

“Leo,” Finn said. “Logan—”

“I know, sweetheart,” Leo fucked in faster. “Lo?”

Logan just bent to mouth along Finn’s neck. Leo could see his hips fucking forward as he rode out his high, clutching Finn against him. When he stilled, he turned Finn’s head to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“Lay back now, Harzy,” he said, and slid carefully from behind him.

Leo smiled into the kiss that Logan knelt to give him, palms smoothing over his shoulders. Logan looked soft and sated in the lantern light, all gentle curves and broad muscles.

“J’adore,” Logan murmured.

“Tremz…”

“Guys,” Finn panted.

Leo leaned forward and kissed him where he was against the pillows, red hair wild and splayed out. Logan stretched out beside them, hand looping around Finn’s cock.

“How does it feel?” Logan said. “Knutty’s so good.”

Leo groaned, the words spreading heat right through him. He had been feeling strange lately, being home after so much change had been getting to him. But seeing them, stretched out in front of him, and feeling Finn around him—Finn, who had always taken care of him… Leo knew he had changed. And not even being home, something he loved so much and was so comfortable with, could change him back.

“Does it always feel like this?” Finn murmured, then looked from Logan to Leo. “Do I feel like this?”

He pushed into Finn again, grinding close. “Yeah, Harzy. This is how you make us feel.”

Leo pushed in twice more, and then Finn was coming, seizing up around Leo and dripping over Logan’s fingers in hot waves.

“Fuck,” Logan’s voice broke. “You always come so…”

Finn just made a soft sound, the tendons of his neck going tight as he let out a breath. “Keep—”

Logan’s hand sped up around him, Leo pushing into him at a steady pace. Finn let Logan run a hand through his hair, coaxing him through it. Then Logan looked back at Leo, reaching a hand down to feel where Leo was pushing into Finn one last time until he stilled when Finn’s breathing seemed to calm. Together, Logan and Leo smoothed their hands over Finn’s hips as Leo pulled out carefully, shiny from the lube and his own precome. Leo ached with the loss, but Finn was twitching away now, sated and oversensitive.

“So?” Leo said.

“Huh,” Finn sighed, eyes shut. He cupped a hand over his cock, opened his eyes, and smiled sleepily. “I see now.”

“Is this a new thing?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Finn said, then bit his lip. “But I think I like doing it to you guys more.”

Leo tilted his head against Logan, enjoying the way Finn was looking at them. Like they were his. Like he was theirs.

They pressed Leo back into the blankets and got him off slowly, and Leo felt like it was forever before his sweat was cooling on his skin, and he came to with his hands in their hair, their mouths kissing along his chest and shoulders.

The night was cooler now, too, and Finn brought the blankets up over them. He was propped on one elbow and Leo watched him stroke light fingers down Logan’s arm, then reach to brush Leo’s hair back.

“I love you guys, you know?” Finn said. “I didn’t really think I’d ever want that…but I don’t think it was actually that, I think it was more…”

“Trust?” Leo finished when he trailed off.

“Yeah,” Finn said softly.

Logan nodded. “Knutty, you’re…”

“You make us trust,” Finn said, and Logan nodded again. “Trust ourselves, trust each other. Trust the world.”

Leo opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t know what. The boat rocked beneath them from some unseen wave. It brushed them closer, all soft, sunned skin.

Logan saved Leo the trouble. He seemed to just know and cuddled himself closer beneath the blankets. They would leave for Canada soon, for a last, wild ride with the Cup. Then, they would spend the remainder of the summer in Gryffindor. But it didn’t feel like a remainder. None of it did. It felt like the rest of Leo’s life.

Leo looked at them, and looked at the stars. He didn’t need the far away things anymore to feel like he was home.

#coast to coast #sweater weather #coast to coast lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn x leo x logan #finn o'hara #lumosinlove ocs #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #smut #o'knutzy smut #harry potter #Harry Potter fic

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nessaxc · 3 years ago

Text

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Victory is Sweet || Miya Atsumu

After Atsumu’s raid on the Police Station, he comes back home to the penthouse to celebrate with his girl, and he brought a souvenir for you.

~ Words: 3.8k

~ NSFW 18+

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It was just after 10pm when you heard a heavy knock on the front door from upstairs that sounded like the police were here. You looked into the peephole to make sure that it wasn't and heaved a sigh of relief once you spotted the blonde through the space with a policeman's cap on his head.

You opened the door with a big smile on your face when you greeted him. "Ooh, how did it go? Did you knock em dead?" you practically squealed in excitement.

He skipped his way in before he kicked the door shut with his foot, his cackling immediately assuring you that you were correct.

"Oh, it was amazing, wish you could have been there," he said with a grin on his face. "Cleaned the whole place up, nice and easy, they didn't even see it comin'," he laughed and walked towards you. You were half listening to what he said but your attention was more confused on his police uniform and how it hugged the contours of his body so perfectly, like it was made for him, which was very ironic.

You snapped your head up to look at him just in time before he realized. "I'm impressed," you giggled. "I wish I could have seen the look on their faces," you added with a loud laugh that sounded much like his earlier one.

"They were such babies, couldn't hold a candle to anything I could do," he chuckled with you as his eyes met your lustful gaze, "which is why we're going to celebrate," he told you in a whisper before he laughed again. Your lips curled into a sly smirk the second those words came out of his mouth.

"I like the sound of that," you replied around a silky purr.

"Oh and I got a little gift for you," he said with a big grin before he removed the hat from his head and placed it on your own, and it fit snugly. "You're going to wear that while we fuck, think of it like as a souvenir for my hard work today," he told you, and you nodded your head in agreement because who were you to deny him?

Then in an instant, he leaned forward to press his lips against yours, the kiss was hard and insistent and demanding, just how you loved it. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, and you could already feel the lukewarm heat spread through your body. It flooded your toes and fingers and pooled between your legs, stirring even further when his tongue passed over the swollen skin, the quiet groans against your teeth turning the stirring to a storm.

You both licked and nipped and sucked on each other's mouths and lips while he blindly staggered forward with you until he reached the room you two shared, plopping you down on the bed. He was quick to crawl atop your body.

"It's so rewarding coming home back to my girl after a long day," he cooed, his hands found the button on your pants and he undid it quickly before he yanked the zipper down in one swift motion. He pushed at your pants, your thighs peeking out from beneath the cotton, and you lifted your hips to shove them down the rest of your legs. "You proud of my work today, baby?" he drawled.

"Yes of course I am, you did so good," you praised and giggled when you saw a wide smile cross his face.

"I hope you don't mind, but you're wearing way too many clothes," he said before he practically tore off your blouse in one rapid motion, then repeated the same treatment to your bra which you didn't mind in the slightest. There was nothing like celebration sex with Atsumu after a successful day.

You squirmed as one of his strong arms wrapped around you, the fingers of his other hand tracing gently against the oddly sensitive spot beneath your ribs. His lips pressed to the swells of your breasts and—somehow, through the sensations—you noted that his fingers weren’t swirling randomly beneath your ribs, but in precise motions.

You gasped when the U was written on your flesh. The M had your toes curling, your back arching. If the U came, you didn't feel it, too lost in the heat. His groan echoed off the walls around you two when he lowered his head down and pressed his face to your bare breasts. Teeth brushed against your flesh, nibbling at the hardened buds, tongue soothing when they became irritated, and he listened to your sighs as your hand fell to rub against your panties, fingers tracing the warm outline of your center.

You moaned when he took a nipple into his mouth and your finger crooked a rather specific way, and that was it. You were lost in the haze, and willing to do whatever he wanted. His hands fell to find a strong grip on your thighs. A squeak escaped from between your swollen lips as he hefted you up against him, your breasts pressing against his collarbone. You wrapped one arm around his shoulders to keep yourself upright, but the other hand pressed beneath the collar of his shirt and into his skin, finding the spot behind his left collarbone that he enjoyed so much and massaging it urgently.

He answered by taking your shoulder between his teeth, and you couldn't stop your hips from jerking against his stomach, nor could you keep your moans in as he nipped away at your skin deliciously.

"Looks like you need new marks," he told you around a heavy breath as he glanced at the fading marks on your skin.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped, writhing against him as he sucked on your skin, dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh. He blew against the marks gently, cooling the saliva there before dropping you down his body slightly and setting his mouth to your neck. "Atsumu," you uttered his name softly, your heels digging into the small of his back.

He sighed against you as his lips trailed up and down your neck several times, his teeth scraping every now and then. Slowly, he shuffled you both to the last stretch of the bed. When his shins bumped against the bed frame, his fingers left your thighs and hooked behind your knees before dropping you down onto the mattress, your back connecting with the soft sheets as you stared up at him. When your cop hat nearly fell off your head, he readjusted it to make sure it would stay still.

You sucked your lip between your teeth as your gaze wandered over him. There was a flush climbing up from his chest, tingeing the tips of his ears crimson. His chest rose and fell quickly, his hair was a mess, and the bulge in his pants was an enticing sight. You couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky.

He dropped to his knees in front of you and ripped your panties from your legs, his eyes finding yours and holding them as he dropped the undergarment to the floor and pressed his teeth to the inside of your knee, nibbling before moving further up your thigh. He took his time making his way towards the apex of your thighs, his fingers tracing up the inside of them as he pressed his mouth to the softer skin near your core. Nip, lick, suck, over and over, and you knew he was littering dark marks across your flesh.

Your back arched when his mouth came closer, sucking a mark rather close to your folds, and you wiggled your hips in an attempt to find relief—relief he wasn’t yet willing to offer.

"Please," you keened, your hips bucking upwards. His mouth paused when he heard your plea, and he pressed a gentle kiss to his final mark.

"You're so fucking cute when you get impatient like this," he chuckled against your skin before he pulled away. Finally—finally—he threw your legs over his shoulders and inched closer to you, his breath fanning over the wet heat between your legs. And then there were lips, and tongue, and his nose pressing in all the right places. A strangled sound fell from your lips as he pressed the flat of his tongue to you over and over in long, heavy strokes.

Your fingers traveled down over your breast and stomach to press against his shoulder, silently asking for his hand. Seconds later, his fingers curled around your own, and your nails dug into his palm as he pointed his tongue and pressed it between your labia, his teeth and chin a welcome pressure against your swollen sex. In and out, once, twice, countless times. He knew you—knew how much you enjoyed the sensation, and the warmth of his smooth tongue.

His hand—the one not being destroyed by your own—traveled up your body, taking a breast into his palm and flicking his long, talented fingers over your nipple. You could hardly breathe. You tucked your lips between your teeth and bucked against his face, your open hand falling to bury your fingers in his hair and press him against you. When he moaned, you felt it, and you wanted nothing more than to fall apart before him.

His tongue didn't stop his attentions. Soft, tentative licks were brought upwards until he found the hard button at the top, but he didn't touch it. He teased, because he loved messing with you. Close, but not close enough. You didn't notice his hand left your chest and drifted down your body as you focused on the feel of him around your clit. Not until you felt a finger press into the spot his tongue had abandoned.

"Fuck, Atsumu!" you cried.

A slow slide, the drag of his digit against your walls. Your chest heaved when he pressed with another finger, and then stroked and searched attentively for the spot he knew would cause you to become a babbling mess of sensation. When he finally found it, you felt you were choking on air, your lungs unable to find enough oxygen to satisfy.

You both knew what was next—what you needed in order to become putty beneath him—it was just a matter of figuring out how much he would prolong it. Thankfully, not long, because he breathed against you once more before covering you with his mouth and flicking his tongue against your clit. Then in an instant, every muscle, bone, tendon in your body went rigid, waves of pleasure running through your insides, and your hand rose so your teeth could bit into the skin of your palm.

Though, it muffled your scream, it was still louder than you wanted, but you found yourself unable to care as your thighs clenched around his ears, shaking with the force of your orgasm as your essence fell on his clever tongue. He lapped at you as you continued to convulse, and his hand tightened around yours, grounding you.

Slowly, you came down from your high, and your muscles went lax. His lips pressed kisses to the marks on the insides of your thighs. It took a moment, but your ability to speak returned, and the first thing you did was swing your heel weakly against his back.

"Tease," you mumbled against the back of your hand. You could feel him grin against your thigh, and it was both a great pleasure and a great irritation. Gently, he pushed your legs from his shoulders and stood. He used his heels to quickly remove his shoes, and then his knees were pressing yours upwards as he crawled over you.

"You look so flushed, baby," he pointed out cheekily, one of his arms propping him over while his other hand smoothed over your ribs, stroking your breasts.

"Asshole," you said in playful tone.

"Bitch," he retorted.

With a peal of laughter, you reached up and began to attempt to undo the snaps and buttons on his dress shirt with fingers still shaky from your orgasm. What you lacked in finesse—at least for the moment—you more than made up for with enthusiasm, and soon the shirt was open and being pushed past his shoulders. He knelt over for a moment, but once his chest was bare he was over you again, leaning down to tenderly press his lips to yours.

"I need you so much," you muttered against his smile, your fingers combing through the fine hairs over his pectorals.

He took your bottom lip between his teeth and swept his tongue across it before leaning back, his eyes glinting as they found yours.

"Oh we're getting there," he promised in a gravelly tone. With some of your strength and a grin returning, you leaned up and kissed him once more before giving his shoulder a gentle shove. He rolled off of you and landed heavily on his back. You followed, your arms on either side of his chest as his arms reached up to stretch, pulling muscles and skin taut. His back arched momentarily, ribs brushing against your nipples. When he settled back down on the mattress and caught your infatuated gaze, he flashed you a smug grin.

"Get over here," he rasped. You snorted as you moved to kneel between his thighs, his calves hanging over the edge of the bed, and then focused your attention on the button and zipper on his pants. When they were loosed enough, you tucked your fingers beneath the waistband and pulled them down as far as they could with your position, along with his underwear. His member—hard and heavy—freed itself and fell against his stomach, twitching and smearing clear liquid against his skin.

Your eyes dropped to his erection, heat curling your toes. Your gaze reluctantly left his shaft to move to his eyes, and you found him propped up on his elbows, watching you with wide eyes, large pupils, and his tongue poking out from between his lips. His natural flush had darkened, his chest and shoulders painted red. You rubbed the pad of your thumb against the underside of his cock and he released a sharp intake of breath upon the gesture, and a shallow thrust as he leaned his head back.

Taking your lip between your teeth, you shifted to allow your thighs to generate a small friction against your center and squeezed your fingers gently around his cock, stroking from base to tip with a practiced fluidity. He moaned beneath you, hips rising to meet your strokes as his breath came faster.

"I said, get the fuck over here," he hissed out. His hand came down a moment later, grabbing at your shoulder and pulling you up. Your knees came to rest on either side of his waist as your sex gently settled over his erection, your arousal coating him as you leaned your hands on his chest. Whimpers erupted from both of you when his hips pressed upwards.

His hands grabbed at your hips as you shuffled atop him only to move them to your chest when you began rolling your hips. His fingers kneaded, stroked, his thumbs pressing over pert nipples and making you shudder and dig your fingernails into his shoulders.

"Oh fuck, yes," he groaned. His hands left your chest to once more grip your waist, pulling you downwards as he pushed his feet to the floor and the backs of his shoulders into the mattress, rolling himself against your slit. When your hat nearly fell from your head, you pulled it on tighter and pressed it back down which made him emit a laugh in amusement.

You leaned further over him—angled yourself so his tip rolled over your clit with every thrust of his hips—and couldn’t stop the strangled moan that dripped from your tongue. Every slow drag built the tension growing in the bottom of your stomach. It rose and rose and rose, and you found yourself rising up on your knees shakily, your breaths ragged as you reached down with both hands, taking his erection in one and spreading your folds with the other.

A string of garbled words left his throat as you shifted your knees slightly and pressed the head of him to your slick opening. Slowly but surely, you sank down, feeling the press of him on every inch of you, the slide of heat that pulled at you until you were seated on him. You willed your hands to move steadily as you smoothed them over his chest, shoulders, ribs, needing to feel him everywhere.

"Oh fuck, keep going, that's it," he said between long, heavy breaths, a glint in his eyes as they pierced yours, and it spurred you on. You smiled, your thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his skin, your heart swelling.

You could hear him take in his breaths as he tried to control them, both inhaling and exhaling through his nose. A quiet moan left you when you leaned over him, your lips covering his own, tongue finding his in breathy gasps and warm, wet strokes. Hands reached for each other and fingers laced together when you settled back on your knees, palms pressing as you better arranged your legs.

And then, leaning your weight against his hands to give yourself some leverage, you lifted yourself. Your muscles clenched around him as his shaft dragged tantalizingly against your walls, his fingers squeezed, your thighs trembled. Breathy curses shot from his tongue as you wiggled your hips and began to sink down against him once more. It was slow—too much so. At this rate, you two would either be interrupted or drive each other mad.

Reluctantly, you pulled your fingers from between his and planted your palms firmly against his chest. His own fell against your hips, eyes catching yours, tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. He thrust his hips upwards, nudging himself that small bit deeper inside of you and pulling a moan from your throat.

With fingers pressing into muscles and supple skin, you both moved together. He lifted to aid your tensing thighs as you pressed down when his hips rose to meet yours. Breath left both of you quickly as he thrust up into you over and over. Your eyes fell from his to look down your body, to your breasts, to watch his cock delve into you. Though, you—at some point, somehow—had come to hold yourself stationary above him, he had set a pace, rising to meet you.

His grunts echoed in your ears, and your toes curled. He pushed up inside you once more and released your hips to pull your chest to his, wrapping his arms around you before rolling you two, pressing you back into the sheets. Though one of his hands remained curled behind your back—arching you against him—the other planted itself on the mattress, and he used it for leverage as he pulled back before pounding into your slick heat once more.

Your mouth fell open in moans and whimpers as he pressed into you. You cursed, a groan against the skin of his shoulder, followed by his name in two separate, stuttered parts as your legs spread further and your ankles hooked against the back of his thighs. Every thrust dragged his torso along yours. Chest hair brushed over your nipples, his abdomen riding along your stomach, and still he wasn't close enough. Your hands found his back and pressed him down onto you. With every movement, he would stutter briefly before curving his spine and digging into you even further, and every muscle in your body would clench.

When the rhythm he set began to falter, his teeth found your neck to leave more marks. He could write his name on your forehead so long as he didn't stop. You could feel yourself tightening around him, and you dug your fingers into his back, lifting your hips to meet his every thrust.

You were sitting on the edge, and he must have known it, because he settled the length of his body completely along yours and dropped the hand that had been propping him to slip between your bodies. His fingers ran across the slick skin at the spot you both joined before rising to press against your clit. You leaned in and bit into his shoulder as he rubbed small circles around the nub. His fingers twitched in a specific way, his cock rammed into you and—with a high-pitched noise you would be ashamed of later—you fell.

You felt wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure through your core, and every part of your body found some way to cling to him; your hands scrabbled against his back, ankles dug into the back of his legs. You wanted to scream—more than anything you wanted to scream—but your throat felt like it had collapsed as your jaw locked on his shoulder. The pads of his fingers continued to massage your clit, his cock still thrusting into you at a stuttered pace, and you continued to fall apart beneath him.

He tumbled over the edge with you, a strained grunt echoing in your ears as his hips rammed against yours one final time. His thighs jerked and he pulled you tighter against him, spilling himself into your tight heat.

Together, the two of you went limp, bodies twitching and sending aftershocks up your spines as you laid together. It took several moments for your breathing to return to a normal pace. Only then did Atsumu allow himself to slip from you, his breath a heave, and he settled lower on your body, his hand dropping to rest on your chest. Your hands were shaky as they rose to run through his hair. A contented moan vibrated against your collarbone and you smiled before repeating the motion with one hand and allowing the other to draw lazy circles between his shoulder blades.

"You were so good today," you praised, your voice still not completely there. "You definitely earned that."

His lips curved in a smile, and you could feel it against your skin. He purred in approval, "Of course, I always do."

He nuzzled his head into your breasts before he peppered wet, sloppy kisses on the soft mounds. You laughed airily and dropped your head back against the mattress. You sighed happily as your fingers continued to pull his hair from his forehead and felt his fingers—still somewhat shaky—trace patterns into the skin on the side of your rib cage.

Exhausted, the two of you curled on the bed, and he told you all about his raid on the Police Station, laughing as he recalled the events just before he came home to you, foreheads finding each other, fingers stroking. You could feel the rest of the world fall away, and losing yourself in the moments like these—like the laughter, the smiles, the tender looks—made your crazy, wild, unbelievably fun relationship with the blonde even more worth it.

___________________________________

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cloud9in · 3 years ago

Text

The Half of It - 2 (Poppy x MC)

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

HIGHLY recommend you read/re-read part 1

No warnings this chapter

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 2: How to write a love letter 101

“In love, one always starts by deceiving oneself...and ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls romance.”

- Oscar Wilde

I was tasked with what was probably the hardest piece of writing I’ve done in all of my years of highschool, and I wrote eight different versions of the analysis on David vs Goliath my freshman year. That’s besides the point, it wasn’t like any normal research essay. No. For some reason I found that my one and only letter to Poppy would have to be the best thing I ever wrote in the entirety of the universe. Too bad I had to make it sound like it was written by Carter, that big stupid jock. You can guess how severely depressed I became after reading what he had initially written…

“Dear Poppy, I think you’re really beautiful. Even if you were ugly, I’d want to know you, because you are smart and nice, too. It’s hard to find all those things in one girl. But even if you were only two of those things, I’d be into it. But you’re, like, all three, just to be clear.”

Bea reads off the paper, turning her head with cringe and confusion at the confident jock sitting next to her. Carter smiles, “She’s all three, like you know all three backs of football. The running back, the fullback-”

“Thanks for clarifying...:”

Carter stares awkwardly, waiting for her to continue on. And Bea does, with a big ass sigh.

“...About me. Some people think I’m the cutest one in my family. Those people being my grandma...who’s dead now...Never mind about my dead grandma. All I’m saying is that I like fries. I like dipping them in my milkshake. Is that weird? It’s actually really tasty. Would you like to try that with me sometime?

CJ, school quarterback.”

Bea takes a good five minutes to compose herself. Yeah this was definitely gonna be a long week. She lowers the paper slightly and turns to Carter, a puzzled look in her eyes. “So what you’re trying to say is-”

“I’m in love with her.”

That confession definitely would have sent her sprawling a few feet back if she hadn’t been sitting. Love? What was love? And why does she despise it now that Carter has mentioned it.

“...Have you ever spoken to her?”

“Well...no, I’m not good with words. Besides, would I be here with you if I did talk to her?”

Bea rolls her eyes and huffs exhaustingly. “Carter, you're not in love. You’re just stubborn.”

“No I’m not! It’s love, I know it’s love. Love feels different, it doesn’t feel...real. It almost feels impossible. But we indulge in it because of the thrill, the adrenaline of chasing someone mindlessly...and wanting to be present in everything they do. There’s that ‘what if?’, the question that could make or break that love. Even if the ending isn’t what you had hoped for, at least you know how it felt to feel so much joy, so much want.”

Carter stares up at the ceiling in thought, his eyes seem to be unfocused, staring at nothing and everything. Bea gazes over at him in part shock and part admiration, a smile painting her face. “...Wow.”

“...Hm, yeah. I heard it in a dating app commercial once.”

Bea gasps and smacks Carter repeatedly with the letter in her hand, clearly disappointed.

“Wha- Ow!”

“And here I was thinking you were being original.”

Bea eventually sits back in her seat, her shoulders slumping as she reads the letter over and over again, trying to make sense of it. That was the problem though, it didn’t make sense, well maybe the fries part did, but the blonde had a lot of work to do. Carter watches her silently until he can’t hold back the lingering question in his head. “...Haven’t you ever felt it? That screwy feeling that love gives you? Poppy makes me feel screwy.”

Bea continues to read, her eyes glued onto the words that are slightly falling out of the printed lines of the notebook paper. But her mind is fully elsewhere, she heard his question loud and clear. The only thing she could muster was an annoyed “no” in efforts to not become vulnerable.

He intertwined his hands together, leaning back on the bench. “...Oh I get it, you’ve never been in love have you?”

Bea’s legs were already one step ahead of her mind as they sprung her out of the seat. She grabs her bag and swats the papers in Carter’s direction, a scoff leaving her lips. “You want a love letter? I’ll give you a love letter!”

“Yeah but will it be something that makes her fall in love with me and not walk away like you’re doing right now-” Carter’s voice rings out hurriedly yet Bea can’t hear anything except the pounding of her heart getting louder as she stalks out of the church. Love, love, love, what even is it? Will I ever feel it? There is nobody who could make me feel-

The blonde was cut abruptly out of her thoughts as she crashed into someone, who was most likely on their respective part of the sidewalk. All of the materials in her arms fell to the concrete and Bea rushed to pick them up, “I’m sorry I-”

A familiar blonde set of locks and porcelain skin came into view and she immediately stopped and looked up. Poppy’s eyes were already boring into hers, a look of slight concern, and maybe annoyance? on her face.

“...I’m-I’m Bea Hughes…” She could only stutter, all those moments that she pretended to talk to Poppy in her room were definitely not paying off.

But maybe it did pay off because a small smile, masked with sparkly pink lip gloss started to form. Poppy bit her lip as her eyes crinkled with amusement, “...Yeah I know. You’ve only been playing my dad’s services on Sunday for, like, four years. He does favour you...even if you are a heathen.” Poppy peers over at the church that Bea had just come out of and raises an eyebrow in curiosity. She picks up a stray book from the ground and grins with an impressed look. “Remains of The Day...Loved it. Mr. Stevens is quite the character.” Okay, so Poppy has great taste in literature, that’s another thing to add to the list that Bea totally doesn’t have stored in the notes app of her phone. Listen, she has to write a love letter to Poppy Min Sinclair, so every piece of information is vital.

Poppy hands the book to Bea, their eyes never leaving each other while standing up. Say something Bea. Anything. It’s almost like the strawberry blonde was waiting, hoping, for her to speak .

But she said nothing. No, all the insecure blonde could do is stare into Poppy’s eyes, almost as if she wasn’t afraid to turn to stone.

The sound of car tires scraping against the pavement caused Poppy to break eye contact before smiling one last time at Bea. “This is me.” Bea watched the shorter girl stroll past her so casually, the complete opposite of what she was feeling in the moment. She didn’t speak until Poppy closed the car door and the driver took off, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “I’m Bea Hughes? Really?”

***

Bea sat in front of her tv, a pen and notepad in her hand. She couldn’t think of anything to write down. How do you write a love letter, or a confession? This is the one thing she had trouble writing. The tv blasted on with 1987’s “Wings of Desire”. Bea cocked her head to the side when the man started to profess his love. She put her pen to the pad and started writing.

Poppy,

You don’t know me, and truth be told I see that as a good thing. You know that saying, there are plenty of fish in the sea? Well I am not a fisherman, nor do I think you are a fish. Letters are not the form of communication that I would personally prefer, but I am the one writing to you. So no more complaining. I think you are interesting. Like a book I want to read. I’d even read the author’s notes at the end just to get every bit of you. I don’t desire a lot of things, but I long for a wave of love to swell up in me. That’s what makes me so clumsy: the lack of pleasure.

Yours,

Carter

***

Bea pushes down on her pedals, pacing her breath with each turn of the wheels beneath her. The voice of Carter appears as he races behind her, careful not to send her flying last time. Then she’d never write a letter again. “Bea! She wrote back!”

The blonde pulled the brakes on her bicycle so hard a wheel might have popped off. She was out of breath but suddenly the reason for it was different. Bea grabs the letter from Carter’s hands and makes haste to read the words she imagined would sit on the paper.

Carter,

I like Wim Wenders too. Wouldn’t have plagiarized him though.

-Poppy

“Who’s Wim Wenders and why’d you cheat off of him? Bea I looked up what plagiarism meant.”

“I didn’t cheat off of him!...Okay maybe I did but this is a good thing!”

“HOW?”

“It’s...it’s like a game. She’s challenging us..but in a good way.” Bea nods to Carter but also to herself. There was a response. She didn’t think that Poppy would write back but she did and it has changed Bea’s outlook on everything. She was in, and there was no way it could stop now.

“So...are we back in the game?” Carter’s words jumble Bea out of her thoughts and she stutters, “Yep..yes we are.” No you are. “We are definitely back in it.” Nope just you Bea.

Bea leaves Carter with an awkward fist bump before peddling away, her mind racing with a million thoughts. But they always seem to close back into one familiar blonde who danced and did everything Bea couldn’t. She sighed, the adrenaline pumping its way out of her lungs.

“Game on, Poppy Min Sinclair.”

***

Bea spent the following days perfecting her next letter to Poppy. This one would be more heartfelt, and less cringe and plagiaristic like her last one. It would come from her and only her...but for Carter of course. The thing is, when Bea started writing again, she didn’t think about the fact that Carter would take credit for everything on the paper, and that he would be the one that develops a *possible* relationship with Poppy. Maybe she didn’t want to think about that part, but the other parts brought just the right amount of serotonin to make her shitty day better. Everything she read, everywhere she went reminded her of the strawberry blonde, and of the unfinished letter. Bea attempted to step into the life of Carter’s and speak like a jock would, without making him seem like something he is not. But that was hard. Because it was her words, her mind. Carter would take that from her, even if it was unintentional.

It didn’t help that Carter didn’t want them to be seen together in public. He would slide to the opposite end of the bench in the church when his football buddies would come in. Bea didn’t take it personal. She of course had other things going through her mind.

It took 7 days. One week. To finish the second letter, a very short one. Bea wouldn’t describe herself as a perfectionist, but every word that Poppy would read had to be perfect.

Dear Poppy,

Okay you got me…

Now that that’s done, let’s start over yeah? I’ll start by saying that I sometimes hide behind other people’s words. For one thing, I know nothing about love. I’m 17 and I’ve lived in Farmsville my whole life. I hang out with my friends, I keep my head down. I’m a simple...guy. Which is to say, if I knew what love was, I would quote myself. But I don’t. I have a question for you, please answer it in any way you want. Are you happy where you are right now?

-Carter

Bea sat in the church, silently tapping away at the keys of piano, a simple soft melody following the nod of her head. Carter had found her like that but didn’t want to disturb. Except, Poppy wrote back again, so this was big news. They both sat in confession booths as Bea read the letter quietly, her hand gripping the edges a little too harshly.

Dear Carter,

You know that it takes eleven muscles to yawn? This is the sort of weird fact I find myself recalling to keep myself from...well yawning. Or showing anything I feel really. And I find myself doing that a lot. So yeah..believe it or not, I turn to other people’s words too.

When you’re a pretty girl, and I know it makes me sound conceited, but sometimes I am, but that’s why you’re even writing to me right? I mean my image is what gives me attention, I’ve grown used to that fact. When you’re a pretty girl, people want to give you things. What they really want is to make you like them. Not like them as in, “i like you”, but like them as in, “i am like you.” You may think I’m different, but I’m like a lot of other people. Which makes me kind of no one. It looks like I’ve found my place but I really haven’t. Just a girl who’s lost in the mix. I don’t know why I feel like I can tell you this, but you provide the sort of safety I always craved. You’re interesting Carter, I like you.

-Poppy

Bea read the last sentence more times than she should’ve. Carter watched her silently as she stared into the lines of the paper, maybe hoping that more words would magically appear. The blonde couldn’t describe the feeling in her chest, but it hurt. Physically.

“Uh...can I text her now?”

“Too soon.”

“No, I'm gonna do it now.”

Bea felt herself starting to get frustrated, but calmness always overtook any other feeling she had. She was taught to be rational.

“You do that and she’ll think you’re just like everyone else.” You’re not like anyone else Bea, she needs to know that.

Carter lets out a heavy sigh and pulls out his phone. Bea felt a buzz in her pocket and pulled hers out as well. A message pops up alerting Bea of another income of $50 being sent to her.

***

Bea slogged through the crowded halls trying to find the exit but before she can walk any further, a firm hand grabs her and pulls her into a familiar classroom. The blonde turns to scowl at the perpetrator which was probably Bradley, but instead she sees bright red lips and black glasses. Ms. Kingsley. But she doesn’t look too happy.

The older woman holds up a paper which Bea recognizes immediately as her letter to Poppy. How in the world did she get that?

“So...this is why half my class is failing their essays?”

Bea could make a snarky comment back to her, but the sight of the letter sends her thoughts spiraling once again. She lets out a defeated sigh. I mean how did this woman know she’d written that letter? Ina Kingsley knew everything. “Look...I’ll be reopen for business soon enough.” Bea starts to turn to leave and looks at Kingsley one more time. “I can’t do this for much longer.”

Bea couldn’t hold in her feelings for much longer as well. But not even Kingsley knew that. She walked out of the classroom with her head down, hoping to avoid eye contact with the one she wanted to see the most.

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End Note: Part two is here woah. Thought it would never come.

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy @cloakanddaggerthings @straightlikewetspaghetti

#queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #mc x poppy #playchoices #any feedback is appreciated #my brain is toast #poppy will definitely become centric in this story #starting next chapter

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inkformyblood · 3 years ago

Text

@codywan-sugarandspiceevent

Since the Window’s Covered in frost, I’m certain the neighbors cant see us + Manhandling + Armor/Uniforms

Note: Modern AU

“Are you sure about this?” Cody gasps, tipping his head to offer the juncture of his throat to Obi-Wan’s hungry mouth. His beard scrapes over the marks from that morning — barely even faded due to the press of Cody’s fingers throughout the day, maintaining the faint bruising that colours his darker skin. “Obi-Wan, the windows.”

Obi-Wan hums, the sound catching in his throat and rumbling like a growl before he speaks. “Look at them, my love. We are as well hidden as we would be in our bedroom.”

His hand sneaks between where he has crowded Cody against the counter, squeezing at his arse with clear intent.

“And I have missed you.”

Obi-Wan’s voice is so sincere, so earnest despite the hunger in his brilliant blue eyes, that Cody can’t help but laugh, releasing his hold on the countertop to wind his freed hand around Obi-Wan’s neck. His fingers tug at the shorn hair at the nape, scratching against the rough surface as he imagines tracing a path between the dark freckles clustered there. “It’s been four hours.”

“Four long torturous hours that were made ever longer when you sent me that picture,” Obi-Wan growls, pressing biting kisses up Cody’s throat before brushing a gentler kiss over his mouth, never fully moving forward despite Cody’s hand still woven through his hair. He pauses, tipping his head the scant inches to press their foreheads together, his breath already run ragged.

Cody flushes, the heat that had been simmering in his belly almost brought to a boil. The picture had been a passing fancy that had consumed him the moment he had thought of it that morning, the blurred image of Obi-Wan buttoned up in his sharp suit playing on repeat in his mind. The shorts were his, grey flannel and loose around the swell of his arse, slipping down to reveal the jut of his hip bones. But it was the top that he knew would drive Obi-Wan wild, tight and dark with a section cut out to display his chest, eye-catching and deliberate.

As if catching his trail of thought, Obi-Wan nods, their noses bumping together. “Oh, my love, you have no idea just how beautiful you are. I could spend the rest of my life telling you and it wouldn’t be enough.” He draws back, lowering his head to Cody’s chest, kissing one side and then the other before he bites, a perfect circle of teeth to act as a reminder.

The pain is sharp, then dulled by the press of Obi-Wan’s tongue, his beard prickling against the soft skin, and Cody tugs his hair once more, his hips rolling to grind against the other man.

“You know how much I like seeing you in your suits,” Cody gasps, the words spilling from him before he can stop himself. Pleasure blooms in his belly, sparks rattling down his spine with every kiss Obi-Wan layers over him, with every muted groan of pleasure the other man releases.

Obi-Wan is hard in his trousers, the bulge clear and Cody shifts, settling his hip against the countertop to give himself the leverage to angle himself against it, grinding down once with clear purpose before Obi-Wan catches him.

Cody is off-balance, risen onto his toes on one leg, the other thrown around Obi-Wan’s waist and his hand scrabbles against the countertop, trying for a handhold.

“Easy, love. Let me just—“

Obi-Wan’s hand slides beneath his arse once more, moving with a different purpose now, and Cody throws his legs around the other man’s hips at his encouragement, grinding against him once more. He throws his head back, a ragged gasp bitten back as Obi-Wan steps back, just once, holding Cody upright.

Cody forces himself to look down, feeling as if he would explode if he did so and he would die if he didn’t.

Obi-Wan’s face is flushed with effort, bright spots of colour staining his cheeks and nose, but he grins when he meets Cody’s gaze. Sweat gleams in the hollow of his throat and over his forehead, the faint scent mixing with the rich cologne he favours. “Hello, there.”

“This is very hot,” Cody manages, holding himself as carefully as he could, wanting the moment to last forever. “You can pick me up.”

“I can pick you up,” Obi-Wan confirms, and Cody keens, pleasure flashing through him like a lightning strike.

“Fuck.”

“I’d like to,” Obi-Wan says, taking a step towards the counter that faces onto the living room, the large windows that are barely covered by a spiralling pattern of frost, and Cody sprawls back onto it, releasing his hold on Obi-Wan’s hips the moment he feels the solid surface beneath him.

He almost rips the shorts from his legs, throwing them blindly to one side, reaching for Obi-Wan the moment he is bare and open and wanting—

“Keep the suit on?” Cody asks, pulling Obi-Wan impossibly closer as his legs close around the man’s hips once more. Cody’s cock twitches with interest, tacky precome oozing from the head, thin strands clinging to the edge of Obi-Wan’s black shirt and gleaming silver.

Obi-Wan laughs, softly, ducking to kiss Cody once more. He can taste his grin, wants to lick it from his mouth like liquid sunlight, but Cody settles for nipping at his lower lip, rolling his hips to press his cock against Obi-Wan’s once more.

Obi-Wan’s hands shake as he fumbles with the button’s of his trousers, the catch of his belt clinking as he loosens it, pulling it just free enough that he can reach inside and draw his cock out, hard and twitching.

“I need,” Obi-Wan gasps, his fingers curling around the base of his cock as it twitches, pressing against his hold, smearing over Cody’s thigh. “Need the lube, Cody.”

“Only four hours.” Cody doesn’t release his hold on Obi-Wan’s hips as he snakes a hand down between them, hissing as he presses against his cock. He is still open enough from that morning, still open enough for this.

Obi-Wan swallows, his throat bobbing, and he looks half-fucked already, his eyes blown wide and wanting, his hair dishevelled and tangled from the curl of Cody’s fingers, his lips bitten a ruby red. “Only four hours.”

The press is a slow one and Cody tries to relax, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling and the muted play of light across it. He feels Obi-Wan inside him, warm and pressing against every claimed inch, pleasure like he could never imagine, and it built and built and built without an end in sight. The touch of Obi-Wan’s hips, still covered in cloth, the texture rough mixed with the chilling bite of the zip, the circle brand of the belt buckle, is a surprise and Cody tips forward to stare down at Obi-Wan.

His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, but he is watching Cody, drinking him in as if he wanted to drown in him.

“Welcome back,” Cody whispers, a sudden bolt of embarrassment-laced heat rushing through him and Obi-Wan gasps, rocking up into him.

“My love,” Obi-Wan replies, “Oh, my love…”

He rocks his hips again, pressing deeper inside Cody, a question in his ragged breath.

“Fuck me,” Cody says before a groan is knocked out of him by the roll of Obi-Wan’s hips, desperate and sudden.

The build is quick, both gasping as heat floods through them, chasing their releases with every frantic beat of their hearts. Cody tightens his thighs around Obi-Wan’s hips, leaning forward — and oh, fresh sparks explode through him, Obi-Wan grinding against that one spot inside of him so well, so perfectly as if he had been made for Cody, made for this.

“So good,” Cody gasps into Obi-Wan’s ear, pressing his face against his jaw, mouthing at the curve of it to kiss him properly, teeth clicking as they groan into each other’s mouths. “So good inside me.”

Obi-Wan thrusts once, twice and spills with a groan, his release burning inside Cody. Cody glances down, catching sight of his own cock pressed against Obi-Wan’s shirt, flushed skin against the black fabric, and follows with a groan, seeing his release stain silver.

They gasp, uneven, heart rates settling as they stand, clutching at each other as their lips brush, not quite kisses but unwilling to move apart even for an instant to correct the angle.

“Should wear suits more often,” Cody murmurs when he has the breath to do so and Obi-Wan laughs, his spent cock twitching before he withdraws from Cody.

“I do have a kilt in storage I can get out for you.”

Cody leans in to kiss him again, nipping at his mouth until Obi-Wan is laughing above him, bumping their noses together in his joy. “Not today though. Today is for relaxing with one of your awful shows and maybe I will ride you again later.”

#codywan #star wars #my writing #spicy #lemon #nsft

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years ago

Text

Raise the Stakes, Part 9

Shorter bit this time! Anyone who watched Impact Slammiversary can predict what happens here.

Previous sections (including the original that spawned this multi=part monster) can be found in the Master List.

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC x Jay White

Word count: 1,362

Content advisory: nothing really, other than cursing. there's always cursing.

You’re determined to have coffee made by the time he wakes up but it feels like you’re bumping into everything and making the maximum noise possible. As soon as you got out of bed and grabbed the first shirt you found, which happens to be his shirt, your legs felt like they were only partially under your control. It’s not just that you’re physically off but that you’re emotionally off as well. You keep peeking back in the bedroom to make sure he’s still there.

When the coffee is ready, you pour two large mugs, pleased that you remember how he takes it, and pad back into the bedroom.

His eyes open just a crack and he gives a languid smile.

“Bringing me coffee and wearing my shirt? Are you trying to kill me?”

You laugh and put his mug down on the night table.

“Put them both down.”

You oblige and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you down on top of him. He plays with the hem of your shirt for a few seconds before speaking.

“Well this has never looked better.”

You can’t resist leaning in for a kiss, which he welcomes, running his fingers through your hair and holding your face close even when you separate.

“So how long are you supposed to be here before you go back to Japan?”

“As long as I want. I didn’t ask for an excursion, David, I quit. Gedo came up with this because he didn’t want to lose me and they need help over here.”

“You seriously quit,” he repeats incredulously. “That must have gone over well.”

“I guess they really liked me after all.”

“You know that’s not who I meant.” He gives you an insouciant look. “How did he take it?”

You push yourself back up to a sitting position because you want him to have a clear view of your face as you tell him. “No idea. I left him a note thanking him for the opportunities he’d given me and telling him that the time had come for me to move on to other things.”

“Damn. Didn’t even say it to his face.” He shakes his head a little. “Doesn’t sound like you’re over him.”

You’re surprised at the total lack of resentment in his voice, like he’s just pointing out something you might not have considered before.

“Fair enough,” you sigh. “I guess some things you just have to walk away from and deal with on your own time because it would just be too drawn-out and fucked up if you tried to do it while you were still in the thick of things. Not every situation gets closure.”

He smiles again, which surprises you and also makes you feel warm through your whole body.

“I like that,” he says softly, squeezing your hip. “Now you can get off me because I need coffee.”

It’s well into the afternoon by the time he heads back to his place and once he’s gone, you have to go for a long walk just to burn off some of the happy energy you’re feeling. By early evening, he calls.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Thinking of ordering pizza.”

“Can I have some?”

“No. You can’t do a cheat meal the night before a big show.”

“Fine. I’ll sit here and eat cauliflower all night or something.”

“Sounds like I should keep an eye on you to make sure you’re not eating anything you shouldn’t.”

So it’s not long at all before you’re over at his place and the two of you are cooking dinner together, which largely consists of you retrieving ingredients, chopping vegetables and herbs, and letting him handle the actual cooking part. It seems like you’re both trying to stretch out this part, trying to have a longer conversation because it’s been a while since you’ve been able to do that, but it’s also very obvious from your body language that you’re itching to get your hands on each other. Eventually, it becomes impossible to hold back.

“You have bruises,” you giggle as the two of you recover your breath in his bed.

“Comes with the job.”

“Those aren’t from another wrestler.”

“Lucky for you people will think they were and won’t know you’re beating me when they aren’t around.”

“No, they’ll think they’re from training and that you’ve been working very hard the last couple of days.”

“Well, I’ve been getting good cardio in.”

You pull him close to you, laughing. You desperately want to find a way to ask if you get to go home with him tonight, after the show. Having spent the last two nights together, it’s not exactly like he should feel obliged to be with you again, especially not if he’s sore or wants to just hang out with the guys. But you love the idea of being able to celebrate with him, and the idea that he might want to share that moment with you.

In the end, you can’t come up with a way to broach the subject without making yourself feel exposed, and the two of you go from affectionately touching each other to being aroused once again, which takes your mind off things rather quickly. Still, you make sure that you at least repeat that you love him, in case he thinks that you were in any doubt.

It’s been a long time since you could just be a wrestling fan and be in an audience cheering and booing and laughing. Impact has made sure you have a great seat, right in front, where you can feel like you’re part of everything. You know a lot of people in the audience, they’re mostly friends and family who’ve been invited to serve as a stepping stone between an empty theatre and the return to live audiences. Even the small group, though, makes things feel exciting, so there you are, carrying on like a 12-year-old, losing yourself in the experience.

Of course, you pop especially loud when FinJuice make their surprise (to everyone else) return. Seeing him at a remove like this, where you’re not supposed to know him outside of his in-ring persona, gives you a little thrill. It’s like the fact that you know him is your secret. He does give you a little wink as he passes and you bite your lip reflexively.

The whole show is a lot of fun and builds to a great climax. You’ve been backstage for Kenny Omega matches before but you’ve never had the opportunity to just appreciate what a great worker he is. It’s so easy to get caught up in the story he tells and Callihan, tough bastard that he is, makes a perfect counterpoint. You can feel in the back of your mind that the company has one more surprise coming. They love this sort of thing, especially as a big closer and you can’t blame them. There’s something about the faces in the crowd that makes you think that everyone senses something in the air.

And, as the despicable winners raise their hands and preen in the ring, the room goes dark. There’s a deep silence that engulfs the room for a moment and then the sound of metal scraping on metal, a sound you know all too well. It cuts right through you, down to the bone.

No. It’s not possible.

The music kicks in, every note of it like an electrical shock. You can hear the voices rising from the nearby commentary booth. “Is he here?!?”

You give a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening. Please don’t let this be happening.

The music continues to swell as Omega and his boys stand in the ring, perplexed and anxious, until finally a figure emerges at the top of the ramp, surveying everything around him with a sort of bemused contempt as he picks his way through the last match’s wreckage and down to the ring. He looks so good it’s like an insult.

Behind you, one of the commentator’s voices cries out “It’s Switchblade Jay White!”

And as soon as you hear that, your knees buckle and everything goes dark.

#david finlay fanfic #david finlay imagine #jay white fanfic #jay white imagine #njpw imagine #njpw fanfic #impact wrestling fanfic #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

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fettsvette · 3 years ago

Text

In the Palm of His Hand

Boba Fett has you in the palm of his hand - literally - after you sass him one too many times.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 1.3k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rough fingering, little/no prep

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

That was it. You and your smart mouth had finally pushed him past the brink. You’d poked and prodded just enough to ignite that wild spark in him.

Now Boba had you pushed up against the wall, the sandstone scraping your back as you pressed yourself against it in a last-ditch effort to get away from him. Your chest heaved from a mixture of fright and arousal - you could tell by his stance that he was fucking pissed. There was no escape, he had you trapped; the solid wall of his abdomen was directly in front of you, his arms on either side of your shoulders, blocking you in. You were fucked .

“Boba, I’m sorry, I was just -” You began, near hysterical, and he reached out and grabbed your face with one large hand, instantly shutting you up. He had your chin cradled in his palm, his skin warm and deliciously calloused against yours, those dark eyes boring into you like twin black flames. There was fury there, yes, but there was even more lust present. You could smell it on him, and even more tellingly, you could feel the hard length of him pressed against your lower stomach, through the fabric of his kama .

“Think you’re funny, do you? Do I need to remind you who’s in charge here, girl?” Boba snarled, and the hand that wasn’t grasping your chin trailed down your belly and began roughly pushing your pants down, followed without pause by your underwear, which he left rucked around your lower thighs. You knew what was coming then, and you groaned deep in your throat despite the terror coursing through your veins. Your knees buckled and you sank down the wall an inch or two, causing Boba to tighten his grip on your chin, inadvertently knocking the back of your head against the stone behind you.

“No, no, please, I swear I’ll be good, Boba, I swea -” Your begging was stifled by a scream as he forcibly shoved two fingers into your opening - no warning, no prep, nothing - and began pumping them in and out, swirling the pad of his thumb harshly against your clit, making you let out another little shriek at the combined friction. You were already growing wet around Boba’s fingers as he continued his ministrations, adding another finger as your walls gradually loosened up, accommodating the sudden intrusion. The only sounds were your harsh, panting breaths, and the obscene squelching as Boba savagely pistoned in and out of you, until you attempted to wrench your face out of his hold, to watch him working your cunt. Boba didn’t like that - he tightened his grip, almost to the point of pain, and readjusted his grasp on you so that you couldn’t even turn your head.

“Look at me while I’m fucking you with my fingers, princess.” Boba ordered, his voice steady and stern, not at all as if he currently had you riding his hand, your hips jutting back and forth both from your own shallow ruts and the force of his own movements against you. With a savage grunt, Boba plunged his fingers even deeper into you, the pads of his index and middle fingers finally pressing against that sweet spot deep inside of you. You wailed in earnest, not caring how loud you were being, daring the entire palace to hear you and come running, solely focused on the feeling of Boba Fett pushing and kneading at the spongy bump inside of you.

The feeling struck like a bolt of lightning preceding a thunderstorm. The pleasure swelled out of the blue to a crescendo, tipping you over the edge only moments after Boba had begun his assault on your g-spot, the sensation of needing to urinate overwhelming your senses. You attempted to warn Boba but the words only came out as pure gibberish, his hard gaze unchanged, a rumble of satisfaction the only sign that he was enjoying himself as he brought you to a devastating climax. The roll of your orgasm ripped through your lower body and the room went white for a moment, all air escaping your lungs as your legs gave out underneath you, the only thing holding you up being Boba’s hard grip on your chin, leaving you dangling until your soles found purchase on the ground once again.

You let out a high, keening whine as you felt yourself gush around his fingers, your arousal dripping down your legs and pooling thickly in Boba’s palm. Spraying outwards to coat both your bunched panties and his pants with each additional thrust of his fingers, the stream of ejaculate tapered off after a few moments, but Boba still continued to fuck you with his hand. He began curling his fingers upwards and pulling you towards him by your pussy, and a scream ripped through your throat from the overstimulation after such a devastating orgasm.

You were crying now from the force of his movements as well as the mixture of pain and pleasure as Boba continued to milk you towards a second climax, fat tears rolling down your face, sobs mingled with whimpers of ecstasy and pleas for him to stop, that you were sorry for mouthing off, that you’d be good from now on. You garnered no sympathy, of course, just stony silence, coupled with the wet sounds of your own juices sloshing between Boba’s fingers, coating his hand, running down his arm.

“Easy there, little one.” Boba finally growled in response, raising his eyebrows and tilting his chin downward to gaze sternly into your eyes, warning you. You were a fucking mess , sweating and weeping and drooling onto the fingers that squeezed your face, and he was as composed as ever, unmoving, as still as if he were made of durasteel. The only movement you could sense was his arm pumping up and down, back and forth, out of the corner of your eye, his shoulder ever so slightly shaking from the exertion.

The combination of his voice and the way he was twisting his fingers inside of you - scissoring them, speeding up and slowing down within seconds, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingers as he continued to fuck into you - sent you over the edge for a second time, even more apocalyptic than the first. The room spun and fire seemed to coarse straight down your spine into your cunt, an almost impossible level of pressure being released from your loins all at once. You didn’t think you’d ever squirted this hard in your life , and never twice in such a short period of time.

You let out a hoarse bellow as the second orgasm hit you, Boba swearing loudly and his fingers all but being ripped from within you, the force of your contractions as well as the second surge of fluid from your core pushing him out of you. Boba took a step back, watching you slide down the wall into a heap on the floor, a puddle of your own slick beneath you, your head lolling as you swam in post-orgasmic bliss, your senses completely overwhelmed. How close you came to blacking out in earnest should have scared you, but you could only see Boba’s face in your mind, the fierce determination and need written across his features as he’d wrung your orgasms out of you. Fucked out and satisfied, you gave a blissful hum and cracked an eye open to see Boba lapping at his glistening fingers, sucking your cum up if it were a prized delicacy.

You felt him grasp you by your upper arms and hoist you back to your feet, giving your pussy a sharp slap as he looked you up and down, eliciting a yelp from your raspy throat. The ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth, and he brushed the tears from your cheeks with a gentle thumb.

“Well done, precious thing. Now maybe you’ll remember what happens when you talk back to me.” Boba cooed sweetly, then turned on his heels and swept from the room without another word, leaving you to fix your clothes and clean yourself up.

If those were the consequences, you thought maybe you’d have to be a brat to this formidable bounty hunter of yours more often.

#boba fett #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x reader

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babyboy-cody · 4 years ago

Note

uhhhh not to be cliche but what abt willard and his sweetheart’s first time sleeping together, it’s just a nice thought 🥺

The night was filled with soft laughter, tender touches, and gentle gazing in the eyes. The endless amount of compliments Willard gave your cooking and appearance had you blushing for minutes. It felt like you were teenagers again, so incredibly shy over ever little thing he did or said. But that’s what made him fall more and more in love with you. The way you became so flustered in just seconds makes him want to do it more, and just the sounds of your soft laughter makes his heart jump. As you peered at him across the table, you can make out the hearts in his eyes as he rests his jaw on his fist, his eyes never leaving yours for a second. His other arm was crossed over the table, his long thumb tapping against the knitted cloth lightly.

“Wanna know somethin’, peach?” He suddenly asks, his voice low and gentle as he doesn’t want to ruin this romantic moment between him and his sweet girl.

“What’s that, Will?” You shyly rest and rest your jaw on your hand, desperate to get closer to him but not wanting him to forget his words.

“Ain’t ever felt this before with anyone,” he mutters and chuckles to himself. “Ain’t ever had someone care for me as much as you, love me as much as you, and the list can go on and on, darlin’.”

“Will..” you were speechless.

“We’ve been together since we were kids and I don’t see myself bein’ with someone that ain’t you. I’m gonna marry you one day, peach. I promise you. It’s just gonna take some time for me to get the money to get a beautiful ring on that pretty lil finger of yours. But I’m promisin’ you. I will marry you,” he speaks so sincerely and genuine, the hearts in his eyes never leave as yours tear up graciously.

You don’t say anything for a moment, and it’s beginning to worry Willard. He’s not sure if you’re crying out of sadness or happiness. He’s not sure if he’s the one you want to marry in the future or start a family. But to him, you’re his soulmate, his person, his number one girl. He’s not sure what to say then and there as you choke back a sob.

“Peach,” he whispers and stands up to move to the seat closer to you. “Look at me.” He ducks his head to catch your tearing gaze, his large hands cupping your smooth jaw to wipe his thumbs under your eyes. “I mean what I said. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” you whisper and sniffle as you let out a shaky laugh, your smaller hands holding onto his wrists to keep his own pressed against your face, needing to feel him at that moment – that skin to skin contact was always enough to keep you grounded. “I feel the same, Will. I see myself being Misses Russell and havin’ our own children runnin’ around.” Willard lets out a hearty laugh and wipes away a lone tear that slides down your rosy cheek. “I picture them to be two little boys and a girl.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles and pulls your chair closer to him, causing you to gasp and blush fiercly as you forget how strong he was sometimes. “You want me to get you all pregnant with my children?”

You nod and look at his plump lips before looking up at his dark green eyes, his pupils wide and black. One of his hands moves from your cheek and slowly moves down to your chest, his fingers playing with the buttons of your dress. His thumb trails over your erect nipples, and you have to swallow down a gasp when he lightly pinches the sensitive nub.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that, peach,” Willard tells you with a little grin on his smug face.

His hand lowers even further down as it disappears between your thighs and underneath your dress. The minute his fingers touched your desperate clothed core, your thighs immediately shut and you grabbed his wrist to holt him.

“Will!” You gasped, eyes wide and cheeks red.

“What?” He grinned wolfishly and scooted closer to your trembling body as he pushed his hand further against your clothed pussy until his fingers were pressed against your clit. “I think it’s time you begin to feel good, peach. You don’t know how hard it is seeing you scurry around in those little dresses of yours and not bein’ able to slide right between these thighs and fuck you until the sun comes up.” He torturously rubs circles on your clit, savoring your little noises and the way you try to keep your eyes from rolling back.

He suddenly slides his hands into your panties, causing you to press your back against the wooden chair you’re seated on. Willard rubs his fingers all around your pooling slick, the damp fabric of your panties snug against his knuckles. He curses lowly to himself at the feeling of your wetness. He can’t even imagine how tight you’re going to be when he dips his fingers inside.

“Tell me what you want, peach. Just use your words and I’ll give you whatever your heart desires,” he tells you, grinning and chuckling when you let out a small squeak when he he taps his fingers against your swelling clit.

“I-I need... I need... mmph..” You can barely keep your eyes open, let alone speak like Willard wants you to. He hasn’t even done anything except some heavy petting. You didn’t realize how sensitive you really were, but he has that effect on you. “Need more.”

When your eyes open, he pulls his hand away and grabs your face in his hands to pull you close to him. When his lips finally touch yours, you let out a soft moan of relief. You desperately push your lips harder against his as your hands hold onto the sides of his neck, your fingers curling into his soft hair. As his warm tongue enters your mouth, you’re eager to taste him. The faint taste of wine on his tongue was intoxicating and made your pussy ache for more. You nibbled on his bottom lip, reveling the deep groan that makes his broad chest vibrate.

“Please, Willard,” you desperately beg as you pull away from his lips. “Please give me what I need.”

“I’m gonna give it to you, peach,” he mumbles and suddenly stands up so fast that the chair legs scratch behind him on the wooden floor.

You stand as well, putting your hands on his shoulders as he lifts you by your thighs. You squeal and hold onto him tightly as he blindly walks around the corner to your shared bedroom. He kisses you so slow and deep as he bumps into furniture along the way. You giggle against his lips as he enters the bedroom and kicks the door closed with his foot. He lays you on the bed, forcing a gasp out of your chest. You lift up on your elbows and plant your feet on the bed, slowly spreading your thighs as your dress pools around your hips. Willard groans deep and begins to unbutton his plaid shirt, showcasing his white wife beater.

“Come on, big boy,” you call to him in a sultry voice, making a come hither motion with your finger as you bite down on your bottom lip as he removes his plaid shirt.

“Yeah?” His voice was husky and it made you exhale a shaky breath quietly as he slowly slides his massive hands down your thighs to hook his fingers into your white cotton panties before slowly pulling them down, all while maintaining strict eye contact with you.

You suddenly felt shy when he threw your panties to the corner. And then you were suddenly aware that you and Willard were going to make the next step as an unmarried couple. Your thighs shut and you sit up fully straight, pulling your dress down to cover yourself. Willard pulls away and takes a seat right next to you, noticing how nervous you suddenly seemed.

“What’s goin’ on, peach? Did I do somethin’?” He asks you so gently and softly, not sure if he should take your hand in his or press himself close enough so he can pull you into his arms.

“You did nothing wrong, Will,” you assured him, laying a hand on his arm lightly. “It’s just.. isn’t it wrong? We ain’t even married yet.”

“So?” He laughs lightly. “This is somethin’ we both want, right?” You nod and hum an affirmation. “And we both love each other.” You nod again. “So what’s stoppin’ us from finally connectin’ as a whole?”

You sat there quietly for a few long seconds, taking in his words and letting it go through your head. You were always learned that performing sexual acts before marriage was a sin, and the thought of you not getting into heaven terrified you because you were a good girl growing up. Willard changed that, however. He showed you more than you’ve been taught in your lifetime. And you wanted to explore lots of things with him, married or unmarried. He’s your forever man and you’ve never been more ready until now.

“Take me, Willard,” you whispered, gently placing a hand on his cheek to draw his head towards yours. “I need you to make love to me like it’s the end of the world and all we got is each other.”

He says nothing more. Instead, he leans in close and presses his warm lips to yours, pulling a sweet moan from you as your other hand goes to the other side of his neck. Willard’s hands curl around your hips and he pushes you back gently to lay you flat on the bed. When your thighs spread open to accommodate his large body, you become aware that just a few moments ago he removed your panties. You blush and let out a small whine of embarrassment, lightly biting your thumb between your teeth. Willard pressed hot, wet kisses up and down your neck, grinning wolfishly when he felt your hips jerk against him.

“So sensitive,” he comments in your ear, his hot breath against your skin causing your eyes to close and your thighs to jerk around his hips.

He unbuttons the four buttons that keep the chest area of your dress closed and snug. When you feel the cool air of your room hit your warm skin, that’s immediately replaced by Willard’s lips. He kisses the valley between your breasts, humming lowly as he pushes the fabric aside and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You throw your head back and gasp, moaning wantonly and grabbing onto his arms. Your hands are everywhere. In his hair, grabbing onto his wife beater, grabbing the sheets. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, this time using his teeth and gently scraping the sensitive erect bud.

“Oh god,” you cried out, feeling the tingling sensation in your stomach increase as you thrashed your hips around, desperate to ease that pressure. “Please, please, oh please.”

“What do you need, peach?” Willard asks you lowly, pushing hair away from your face to take in your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the blown out pupils of your eyes. “Tell me and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

“More, I need more,” you gasped, almost on the verge of crying because of how needy you are, the feeling in your core becoming almost too intense to handle. “Please, fix it.”

“Fuck.. how could I say no to those pretty little sounds of yours?” He pulls away briefly to remove your dress completely, leaving you bare and out of breath under him. “Look at my pretty little peach.” He reaches a hand down to brush his thumb across your warm, pink cheek. You nudged your head closer and closed your eyes with a smile, giggling softly as you open them to find Willard grinning as if he’s won the jackpot.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that, Will?” You shyly asked, trying so hard not to cover yourself.

“Cause.. you’re gonna be my wife,” he lets out a chuckle and shakes his head to get himself out of the daydreams of your future ahead. “And we’re gonna grow old together with all our children. Just you and me, yeah?”

You nod and smile so wide that your cheeks hurt. Willard removes his tank top amd begins unbuckling his brown belt. “Let me,” you stop him and sit yourself up so you’re within eye level with his stomach. He looks down at you with parted lips as you shyly kiss up and down his slim stomach, his tan skin so warm and soft against your lips. You pull his belt from the hoops and lay it on the floor. As you unbutton and pull the zipper of his pants down, you became aware of his hardness staring right at you. Your mouth waters and you can’t stop yourself from eagerly pulling down his boxers and taking his tip into your mouth, moaning softly and shutting your eyes.

“P-Peach,” he huffs out a disbelieved laugh and throws his head back, groaning quietly as you suck more of his cock into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his leaking tip. He huffs out a small laugh as you eagerly lower your head to take more of him down your throat, easily swallowing him up. His eyes widen when you barely gag as he looks down at you in shock, your lips nearly touching his pelvis as you look up at him with those teary, beautiful, doe eyes that he fell in love with so long ago. “Christ, you really know what you’re doin’, huh?”

You pull off of him with a lewd wet pop, wiping your lips shyly with the back of your hand. You smile bashfully and twiddled your fingers. “Did I do good?”

He grabbed your cheeks and eagerly kissed your wet lips, groaning and breathing softly against them. When he pulled away, he looked into your eyes, acknowledging your blown out pupils and flushed cheeks. “Absolutely fuckin’ perfect,” he huskily tells you. “Now lie back. Go on now.”

You lie back and eagerly spread your thighs when he began to shrug off the rest of his clothes. You bit your lip and curled your toes in anticipation when he settled on his knees between your spread thighs. His large, warm hands settled in the crook of your knees before he pushed them towards your chest and spread them even wider, forcing your cunt lips to spread apart as well.

“Will!” You exclaimed, giggling into your hands as you covered your face. “What’re you doin’?!”

“Since you got to have a taste,” he lowly tells you as he lowers his head to press kisses on your lower stomach, slowly moving towards your inner thighs as he licks and nips the skin gently. “It’s only fair if I get a little taste too.”

As his kisses get closer and closer to your core, you wiggle your hips impatiently, desperate for him to devour you as if you were his last meal. He seems to get the hint as he looks up at you with those muddy green eyes. When his tongue touches your clit, you whimpered and refrained from shutting your thighs. He sucks your clit into his mouth, groaning low in his throat as his tongue eagerly licks up your wetness. This new sensation felt so weird and so good, you needed more of it. Willard licks and sucks all around, getting you even more wet from his saliva. When his tongue slowly enters your tight hole, your eyes roll back and you desperately grab onto his head.

“Oh, fuck!” That’s the first time you’ve ever cursed, but it sounds like music to his ears. “Please, please, oh please, Will.”

“Best meal I ever had,” he breathlessly says, his tongue flattening over your clit with such pressure that it makes your thighs quiver and toes curl. “So sweet just like a peach.”

He crawls up towards your body and brackets his arms on either side of your head. The skin to skin contact felt amazing. It made you feel safe and grounded and comfortable. His skin was warm and clammy and soft against yours. With his chest brushing against your hardened nipples and his cock laying against your dripping cunt, you couldn’t be more ready for the next step. You look up at him with such love in your eyes that it nearly made him emotional. He pushes your hair back from your sweaty brow and kisses you so gently.

“Make love to me, Willard,” you whisper against his lips, peering into his eyes and pushing his hair back from his forehead. “I need to feel you.”

“Fuck, darlin’. When you talk like that, it’s enough to make a man cum right then and there,” he whispers and kisses your swollen lips once more. “Ready? You can back out any time, okay? I want it to be special.”

“I’m more than ready,” you tell him as you wiggle your hips, moaning softly as his cock slides against your clit. “Please, Willard. Don’t make me beg more.”

He reaches between your slick bodies and grabs his cock, slowly grinding between your puffy cunt lips to gather that wetness. You mewled and buried your face in his shoulder as he very slowly pushes inside inch by inch. Your mouth falls open as you swallow down a gasp, your nails lightly digging into the skin of his arms as your toes curl on either side of his thighs. He huffs out a small laugh in your ear, causing goosebumps to rise at the nape of your neck. It stung so good, the girth of him filling you so perfectly. He slowly pushes every inch inside you until his pelvis is touching yours completely. You pant softly and pull him down for a passionate kiss with tongue and teeth involved.

He grinds against you, loving how sharp and high pitched your gasps are and how you try so hard not to let your eyes roll back. He watches your brow muscles twitch when he pulls back and fucks into you with a hard thrust. He tests the waters and does it again, and again, and again. Soon he finds a rhythm that has you moaning loudly in his neck. He groans and grunts, clenching his jaw as your tightness envelopes him repeatedly. The slick sounds of his balls slapping against your dripping wet lips makes him so animalistic. He grabs your jaw and pushes your head back into the pillows, needing to watch you as he fucks you nice and good.

“You like this, honey?” He breathes heavily, eyes threatening to shut when you clench around him involuntarily. “You’re taking me so good, you know that, right?” You nod and hold onto his biceps tight when he speeds his hips. “That’s my girl.”

The churning in the lower pit of your stomach is slowly increasing. You throw your head back to cry up at God, pleading for that strong release and begging for forgiveness at the intense amount of pleasure you’re receiving. It’s all so sinful, but so right. Willard’s cock filled you to the brim, making it almost impossible to concentrate on forming words. You mumble incoherently and scratch down his back.

“W-Will,” you squeaked, your eyes filling with tears as he fucks you. You can’t even think as every one of your senses are clouded with him. He kisses you again as your small body jolts with every thrust. “Mmmpphh..”

“You feel so good,” he whispers huskily, lowering his head to kiss up and down your neck, wrapping his arms under your back to hold you tighter to his body. “You make me so happy, peach.” The first few tears slide down your cheeks, and then you can’t stop them. Even when he’s fucking the daylights out of you, he’s still so sweet and romantic.

“Y-You make me s-so happy too,” you cry out, curling your toes so hard that you feel them crack. “I love you so much!”

“I love you too,” he grunts, passionately kissing you once more. “My pretty little soon-to-be wife.”

His hand trails down the side of your thigh before grabbing it and hiking it further up his hip. The angle made him reach deeper than he did before. Your eyes widened as you let out a small shout, your body trembling as you feel your slick sliding down your hole and onto the covers. Willard grins wolfishly and kisses your forehead as he slows his hips down to a deep grind. Your eyes cross and roll back as you groan, your hands desperately grabbing at any part of him.

“I f-feel..” you couldn’t get your words out when his smooth pelvis rubs your clit and his cock twitches inside of you. “Will...”

“You feel what, honey?” He chuckles and begins to fuck you again, holding the back of your neck and lowering his forehead onto yours. “Gonna cum?”

You frantically nod and hold onto the sides of his neck. His hot breaths spew onto your lips. You kiss him again, lightly nibbling his bottom lip as you softly cry out again. You feel that tingly sensation spread all over your lower half. Your entire body is buzzing with excited nerves. You feel a little dizzy. You can feel it; that throbbing in your core. Before you can warn him, you feel this little knot explode, causing your back to arch and your head to throw back into the pillows as you cry out in pure ecstasy. Willard moans gruffly and sits up on his knees, grabbing your hips, and fucking you hard enough to make the metal headboard and bed springs creak. You grab onto the pillows and close your thighs shut as you nearly finish your orgasm. He forcefully spreads your thighs and throws his own head back as he presses himself deep inside before cumming inside you. His abdominal muscles clench as he lets out a strained groan when you clench around him. Breathlessly, you giggle at him. He looks up at you with a lovesick grin.

“What?” He asks as he slowly pulls out of you, biting his bottom lip as he sees his cum dripping out of your inflamed pussy. “Fuck..”

“We just had sex,” you giggled again and bashfully covered your face. “My mama will be so upset.”

“Which is why this will be our little secret,” he tells you as he removes your hands from your face. “I love you so much, Y/N. I wouldn’t have wanted to do this with anyone but you.”

“I love you more, Will,” you tell him quietly as he leans down to give your lips a gentle kiss, his thumb brushing across your warm cheeks as he pulls away and gazes down at you so lovingly. As you both are wrapped up in your little bubble in your small home, you couldn’t wait for what the future has in stored for you.

#willard x reader #willard russell #the devil all the time #my masterlist #woah this had 3.8k words #i really hope this gets more attention 🥺#i miss hearing from you guys

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

white christmas | thomas

word count; 16,567

summary; after some unexpected snow ruins your christmas day plans, you spend your first christmas as a married couple making it up as you go along.

notes; this is a follow up (and the final part to!) ‘Sin City’ and ‘Sun City’. I was actually originally going to call this ‘Snow City’ but I wasn’t sure how that would go down. anyways, go enjoy.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, cum play, breeding kink

When you woke up, it was to the sound of the coffee machine whirring slowly in the kitchen, and you rolled over, patting at the spot next to you, and pouting when it came up empty. The sheets were still warm to the touch, and you sighed, cracking an eye open to look at the place. The bedding was still crumpled, tucked back up and over you, and there was a barely visible sliver of light creeping in from the crack in the curtains, lighting up the room.

The alarm clock read just after ten, a sleep in for the both of you, but you deserved it on Christmas Day, and you smiled, the joy of the day washing over you once again. It was cold, unusually so for Vegas, and a chill ran over you as you sat up. Your legs were bare beneath the covers stretched out and staying warm, but the tank top on your upper body did little to warm you now that your human furnace of a husband had left you.

When you finally found the motivation to move, it was only to find a cardigan, tugging it over your arms and rolling the knitted sleeves up and out of your way to sit at your mid-forearms, and searching for a pair of pants. A plaid pair of sleep pants that belonged to your lover, tying them at the waist nice and loose as they sat over your stomach, just enough to be comfy, before you were trailing through the house. He was facing the counter, scrolling through his phone and chewing on a piece of a granola bar idly, the machine still dripping coffee through slowly.

He scarcely even flinched as you made your presence known, your arms slipping around his waist and face pressing between his shoulder blades as you left a kiss to the material of his shirt covering his back, before pressing your cheek over the patch. His free hand came down to settle over your own, squeezing lightly, and humming as he acknowledged you.

“Mornin’, baby.”

“Merry Christmas.” You teased, a sweet chuckle leaving him, before he was putting his phone down, and twisting in your arms to see you instead. Cupping your face, he leaned down, pressing a sweet hiss to your lips, and you licked the slightly sticky residue of honey away when he pulled back, the faint traces of his pre-breakfast snack still lingering on his mouth.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

You only nodded, bumping the tip of your nose against his needily, and he caught the hint, laughing lightly and letting his breath wash over your face as his lips brushed yours. “More? What, all the love and affection you got last night wasn’t enough for you?”

“Yesterday was a completely different day. I haven’t had nearly my quota for kisses yet today.”

“Well, guess I can’t argue with that logic.” His words were mumbled, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks, before dipping down to catch your lips with his own, a slow and lazy kiss that was perfect for the mood. You didn’t need much, and you were past the thrill of overexcited Christmas mornings, you weren’t a child anymore, and one day, your house would be filled with kids of your own, to have those over-excited Christmas mornings again, so you were simply soaking up the bliss of a quiet and hazy one with your husband now.

His tongue teased along your lower lip, pressing lightly at the seam in which they connected, prompting you to part them for him, and you were more than happy to grant him that access. He fell backwards when your hands disconnected from around his waist, smoothing up his back and around his body, until one was sitting on his chest, the other weaving into his hair. His back pressed to the counter, supporting you as you leant up on him, sighing against his mouth.

A breathy groan sounded in the air, deep from him as it originated in the back of his throat, vibrating through you in a way that made you tremble a little under his touch. Your head tipped to the side, a raspy breath taken in before letting him dive back into you once again, your heart racing in your chest and the tips of his fingers dug a little harder into your jaw. You loved knowing you still had this kind of effect on him, and that he had this effect on you, even after being married and having been together for so long, and you truly hoped that the passion between you both never dulled.

When the machine beside you beeped to signal the end of its rotation, he finally pulled away, lips shining and red, the hints of beginning to swell, and he ran the pad of a thumb over your own, before he was pressing back into you, stealing a series of small kisses again, dipping you backwards, until you were out of breath but laughing, cheeks flushing as the need to breathe overwhelmed you, but the way his teeth were scraping lightly at your lower lip was far more intoxicating.

He was beaming when he pulled away, bringing you in close to him again, a hand dropping down to sit on your lower back, pulling you into his body, and letting him spin you both around, so that he could reach for the coffeemaker with the other. He poured two mugs, adjusting the sugar and creamer for you both while never letting you go, holding you close, even when you leaned away for utensils and condiments, working together, a laugh on your lips at the overly wet kiss he pressed to your cheek.

His declaration of love may not have been verbal, but it was clear in everything he did, from the littlest touches to the way he held you close, and the way he made easy gestures such as coffee in the morning or tucking the sheets back over you to keep you warm when he left the bed, endearment in every action he took.

“What are we going to do about today, hm?”

He sipped his drink after asking the question, staring at you pointedly, and your brows furrowed, pausing as you lifted your own hot drink into your hands, and frowning. “We’re going to Newt’s, he’s having everyone over for Christmas, and this is the first year that we can kiss under the mistletoe and exchange gifts without pretending to just be half-friends and half-colleagues, tight smiles and seemingly forced hugs when really, I just want to kiss you senseless and wipe the foam away from the edge of your mouth when you get cream on your lip every single time we have hot chocolate.”

“Oddly specific, have you been daydreaming a lot?” He teased, your cheeks flaring up with heat as you shot him a false glare, but he only grinned, before pouting, and tapping at his lips for a kiss. You hesitated, for only a moment, that second being long enough for punishment, before you leaned up and kissed him sweetly. He seemed satisfied with it, but his original question was still ringing in your mind, and he seemed to pick up on that too, being able to read you like a book at this point; “Go look outside the window, honey.”

He tipped his head towards the tipped up blinds, and you padded over, pulling one down and peeping out, gasping a little in shock at the thin blanket of white that was covering the garden, and the roofs of the other houses, the roads undisturbed as nobody had yet dared to drive along them.

“It’s bad luck, I guess.”

“It’s not that bad, right?” You turned back to him, the realisation of just why it was that it had been quite so cold this morning coming through, and you rubbed at your arms a little, wrapping your cardigan around yourself a little tighter. “What, it's like, two or three inches? We can handle that!”

“Yeah, but, it was a bit rainy yesterday, and the temperatures dipped under during night, so it froze over. There’s going to be hidden ice on the roads, and I’m not used to driving in snow. I don’t want to risk it, baby.” You frowned, staring up at him with wide eyes as you stopped before him, and he ran a hand over your cheek, kissing the other side, but it did little to raise your low spirits. “Not when I’d have such precious cargo on board.”

“I’m not precious cargo.” You grouched, and he chuckled.

“You’re the most precious cargo to me.” He denied, and your arms crossed over your stomach, rolling on the balls of your feet as he turned away, making his way over to the fridge. It was somewhat empty, only a large bowl of mashed potatoes that would have served fifteen people being what you were supposed to be taking, and yet you still had no idea what you would whip up for your breakfast or dinner, but you supposed you’d make it work. “Anyway, Minho just texted and said he and Brenda aren’t going to make it either, and Newt’s boyfriend can’t get over from his parents who he stayed with last night, so we figured we could just video chat, or something, instead.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He turned around to face you at the sound of disappointment in your voice, growing a little at the dismayed look on your face, and he closed the refrigerator door, leaning against it and crossing his arms. “Hey, c’mon, cheer up. Maybe it’ll be nice to have our first Christmas as a married couple to ourselves. Didn’t you say you wished we’d have a white Christmas?”

“Yeah, but I was excited to see our friends.”

“We’ll make it work, angel, don’t worry.” He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, tempting you to let go of the tense distress you were holding, and it worked, your shoulders slumping as you gave in, offering him a smile when he cheered lightly at feeling you melt a little under his persuasion. “Want me to warm you up, sweetheart?”

A scoff left you, and you shoved at his chest, letting him snicker as you walked away, flipping him off a little over your shoulder, and moving back to the bedroom to get your phone. There were notifications from the girls, and your family, all wishing you a ‘Merry Christmas’ and good thoughts, and you returned it to them as you walked back through, straightening the bedsheets back out and opening the curtains before you did.

When you returned to the kitchen, the sweet smell of fruit and pancakes filled the air, a batter being whipped up by the man you loved, and you hopped up to sit on the kitchen island in the centre of the room. You were just beginning to open your emails when your phone lit up with a call, and you jumped slightly, before answering it, cheering a little as you greeted your friend.

“Hey, Newt! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you as well, love. Tommy, too, is he there?”

“Yeah, he’s here, standing right in front of me at the stove.” You reached a foot out, tapping at his ass with your toes and giggling as he jumped, turning to glare at you for the action, red tinging his cheeks, before he was slapping your foot away gently. “Sorry we can’t see you today, who would’ve guessed we’d get snow in Vegas, huh?”

“Maybe it’s because of your wish for a ‘white Christmas’, you jinxed it.” Your husband taunted, reaching for a pan, and you scowled at him, rolling your eyes fondly, and you could hear your friend laughing down the line of the phone as he listened in.

“You two have always bickered like a married couple, and we always wondered why. Now you really are a married couple, and it’s still the biggest reveal of the century.”

“What can I say? Keeping you lot in the dark made it all the more fun for us. The sneaking around was hot.” Thomas cheered loudly at your words, heating up some butter over the flame, and beginning to cook your breakfast, Newt gagging falsely into the speaker.

“I didn’t need to know what kinky shit the two of you use to keep your relationship alive, thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. If that’s not what you wanted, then why did you call, huh?” You leaned over again, poking at your husband with your foot, and he reached down, a hand wrapping around your ankle, thumb smoothing over your skin, and he held onto you lightly, using his other hand to flip the pancakes over to let the other side begin to cook.

“Just wanted to check if four was a good time for you both, that’s when everyone else can get online. Some of us have familial commitments and such, not just fucking like weirdly-secretive bunnies to fill the schedule, so we figured it’d work for you, too?”

“Hey, Tommy, four works for us, right?” He held up his other hand in a thumbs up, before piling pancakes up on a plate, and letting go of your leg, allowing it to fall back to swinging under the counter, and beginning to fill the pan up again. “Yeah, four o’clock works for us.”

“Great, see you then, love.”

“Bye, Newt.”

The line went dead, and you placed it down, laughing a little to yourself once again over his comment, and Thomas offered you a smile over his shoulder.

As the pancakes were finished, he created a pile of them on a plate, before bringing them over and placing them on the counter beside your legs, blueberries shining through within them, steam rising up from the plate, a knife and fork following, and he grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge, shaking it up.

“Feelin’ a little more cheery now, angel?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Like, a seven out of ten.” You sighed, picking up the cutlery, and he stuck his lower lip out in false sympathy.

“Only a seven? We gotta’ fix that.” He nudged the plate closer to you, a dollop of cream sprayed onto the plate beside the heap, and your stomach grumbled happily at the sight of the meal before you. “Eat your pancakes, sweetheart.”

“What about you?”

“I already know what I’m gonna’ eat.” He winked, a lazy drop of one eyelid, before he was filling his mouth with the whipped treat and leaning in to place a messy kiss to your lips, the taste of the sweet and creamy condiment spreading to your mouth as your groaned, feeling rough hands slide up your thighs and squeeze roughly. His hands were tugging at the ends of your shirt, your cutlery clattering back to the counter to shuck off your cardigan, before he was pushing your top up and over your head, breasts falling free and nipples pearling in the cold air. “Let me warm you up, honey, make it all better.”

You could only nod, back arching into his touch when you felt the nozzle of the canister run down between your tits, before crying out when the chilled dessert was sprayed in a swirl over one of your nipples. He repeated the action on the other to match, before a line was moving along your chest, right to your navel, and you lay back on the counter, head hanging over the other side.

“You look so sweet, baby, and I know just how good you taste, can’t wait to get my mouth on you.” Two fingers pressed to your core through the plaid pants you wore, rubbing softly and you keened up into his touch. A hot mouth descended to your neck as his fingers worked slowly, kissing lightly along your neck, drags of his teeth to make you shiver, and he sucked roughly at your collarbones in a way that made you shake. He knew all of your weak spots, and all of the pieces that made you weak, having learned your body like the back of his own hand, experience over years of patience and testing, and when he finally moved down to your chest, you knew there would be marks all along your skin come tomorrow, showing up in dark bruises that matched his mouth perfectly.

He bit down, just enough force to make you cry out his name, on the side of your breast and licking it to soothe it, before his mouth was closing over one perky nipple.

The topping there was lapped away, tongue dragging in deliberately slow and teasing motions, your head spinning at the feeling of the bud being rolled along his tongue, nibbled on slightly until the skin was raw in a delicious way that always made everything feel ten times better, beginning to grow sensitive under the attention he gave to you, before he switched to give the other the same treatment. Your hand laced into his hair, holding him to your chest, a groan leaving him as your nails scratched over his scalp, the feeling vibrating along every nerve in your body until your fingertips were tingling, toes curling from where your legs dangled.

“Tommy..”

“God, I love the way you sound when you moan my name. So fuckin’ hot.” His words were a little slurred, his own arousal seeping through, and he was cleaning your skin of the cream he’s left there, licking his way down along your body until you were no longer coated in the substance, and he was sinking to his knees, fingers hooked into the band of your pyjamas and you could barely lift your hips up to help him, body trembling with need and desire, and he tugged them away, discarding them to the floor, along with your panties. “Pretty little pussy, dripping for me, so perfect.”

Kisses along your inner thighs, and you whined out, legs being lifted up to rest over his shoulder, ankles loving behind his neck, and for a moment, heat simply washed over your centre from his panted breaths, before he was indulging himself in your sodden core.

A loud cry, bouncing off of all the walls in the kitchen was emitted from you as you felt the tip of his tongue parted your folds, teasing around your entrance before flattening along your middle. He took his time, cleaning you of everything that you had to give, juices dripping out of your more and more, the longer he teased you and waited, and you could already feel yourself finding it harder to breathe, white-hot heat scorching along your body as he treasured you, devouring you like his final meal.

There were times when Thomas was quick and rough, sucking and biting at your clit with just enough pain to make you cry and scream in all the best ways, before fucking you with his tongue until you were shaking and no longer sentient, but then there were times like today.

These were the moments when he really took his time, tongue swirling along you, dragging around your clit until it was throbbing, tears lining your eyes from desperation, before is lips were brushing over the bead, enough to make a jerky motion journey along your entire body as you reacted to that simplest and lightest of touches with so much need.

“Oh, fuck, please, Tommy..”

“Want my mouth, huh, baby? Look at you, all whiny and desperate. Love it when you’re like this, needy for what only I can give you.” He gave into you when another pleading noise roe up from your throat and into the air, thumbs smoothing up along your thighs to part your folds, revealing the little bud to him entirely, and he dragged the roughness of his tongue over it slowly, broken gasps leaving you as your body spasmed a little, the stimulation so welcome and craved that your head went blank as he finally gave you what you wanted. “Needy baby, all for me.”

You would’ve retorted, snapped back, had anything to say, had it not been for his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking on it harshly as your hips bucked up into his face, and your eyes rolled back in your head. A finger prodded at your core, a single digit slipping into your velvet channel with ease, and your walls clenched frantically around the finger from the moment he had sunk right down until his knuckles were pressed to your flesh. He could reach deeper than you ever could and you couldn't drag oxygen into your body in even half-lungfuls anymore because he was driving you insane, twisting and curling that finger, just enough to rub at your walls, teasing you as he searched for that spot that drove. you wild.

He knew where it was, his fingertip brushing against it, and when you keened up, loud sobs of his name falling from your lips, he chuckled into your skin. Abusing both patches that made you crazy, inside and out, he was a deadly combination, slow motions making you wish he’d speed up, but he was dragging it out, knowing that if he kept it up, you’d melt, become utterly senseless and completely empty of any thought or complaint about the day, and that was where he wanted you.

You knew he did, he wanted you blissed out, cum-drunk and dazed, so that you wouldn't be sad about missing your friends or not getting to celebrate how you wanted, and you were more than happy to give in to that whim if it meant you were allowed to chase the orgasm that was steadily building within you at the momentum because as that spring wound up tighter and the heat rose, there wasn’t a single thought in your head except reaching climax, and chanting your husbands name as his mouth worked you over.

Your hand was tangled in the dark chocolate locks atop his head, still messy and mussed from sleep, now even more fucked-up as you tugged at them limply, body going weak as you teetered on the edge of your peak. As though sensing how close you were, his attention moved from your swollen bud, down further, slurping up hungrily at everything you’d given him, everything he’d drawn from you, before this tongue was plunging into your centre.

At the touch, you exploded, stars flashing behind your eyes as you came undone around his tongue, and he moaned himself, loudly and unashamedly as his fingers flexed against your thighs, wiggling tightly and holding them apart as they trebled, legs attempting to snap closed around his head and he never let up on his assault, tongue fucking in and out of you as your walls fluttered.

He’d given up on the soft and lazy act, becoming impatient himself, and he’d always been vocal about how much he loved to be buried between your thighs, but sometimes, it still surprised you, times like now, when he was selflessly desperate to feel you come undone again, to lick you clean as juices flowed from you, and your head was spinning as you neared yet another edge.

He pulled back, two fingers delving into your folds, moving at speeds you could barely comprehend as they slammed in and out of you, your cries growing in volume until you were screaming his name, arching up and quivering against the marble countertop, before he placed a final nip to your clit, humming proudly and contentedly as he felt you cum again. Juiced dripped down his wrist, pooling on the floor in droplets, tears dripping from your eyes, chest heaving for breath, and when you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled back. Licking you clean and leaving you to beg and plead, spasming atop the tabletop, he left you clean of slick and cum, kissing his way back up your body until he was standing between your parted thighs, the tip of his nose nudging under your jaw.

“Better?”

You made a vague sound of questioning, too fucked-out to even open your eyes, and you were sure Thomas’ chest was puffing out, ego swelling at just how he managed to get you like this, and he pulled away. Sucking wet fingers into his mouth to clean them off, he used his other to pull you up into a sitting position, goosebumps rising along your skin as the chill in the room began to seep back in.

You waved a hand around loosely for your top, finding it and tugging it back on, barely checking it was on the right way, before your cardigan was following. Large hands were still massaging along your legs, which were now wrapped around his waist, and you jumped a little as his thumb smoothed over a deliciously sore bite mark that he’d left on your inner thigh.

“That was fucking fantastic.” You murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he beamed, pride rising within him, but he didn’t comment on it. “Best Christmas present ever.”

“Don’t say that, you haven’t even opened my gifts yet. I’ve got you beat this year, there’s no way you can top it.” You cracked a smirk, shrugging at him and resting your cheek to his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, I have a pretty great gift for you myself.” His hands smoothed up and down your back under your jacket, warming you up through and through just with the loving touches he gifted to you. It was moments like these that you would always remember; sex with Thomas was mind-blowing and spectacular every single time, but it was the moments after that were what made your relationship what it was, the way he’d hold you so lovingly, touch you with such tender adoration that you felt your heart may actually explode, ad he did it all because he wanted to, not because e was expected to or he thought t would make you happy, but purely because he desired to be with you as much as you with him. “Can I have my pants back now?”

“Think you need new ones, yours are pretty wet.” There was a tone laced to his voice that made shy and embarrassed warmth flood your face once again, making you glad he couldn't see you from where you were buried in his neck, but not missing the way his foot was rubbing the garments across the tiles to dry the floor, before flicking them away a little.

“Okay, but let me down, because I’m still hungry, and I want those pancakes.”

He held you a second longer, a light squeeze, before he stepped back and let you go, tapping at your ass in a cheeky spank as you bent to collect your discarded clothes to take to the laundry, before you were walking away from him with a skip.

A new set of clothes, a trip to the bathroom to clean yourself up, and running a brush through your hair to fix it and pull it out of your face and into a reasonably controllable bundle on your head. When you reentered the kitchen, Thomas was sitting on one of the stools, using your knife and fork to eat the half-cold pancakes, and you grabbed your own set, sitting opposite him, and tucking in.

The meal consisted of laughs, and jokes, hinting at gifts for one another without ever quite giving them away, and then, making a plan for your day. You didn’t have the right ingredients to make a Christmas dinner, and an entirely free day, where you would have been leaving in half an hour to make your way over to Newt’s place. Instead, you would exchange your gifts together, and make your attempt at a decent Christmas dinner, before video chatting with your friends for a while, and finishing off the day with a movie.

It wasn’t the Christmas you’d planned, but it would be perfect in its own way.

The tree lights were twinkling softly, glittering on the wrapping paper you had covering your gifts neatly underneath, a matching set in a different colour, reindeers dancing across the front in a gift wrap Thomas had chosen for you. Your untouched coffee was now cold, and you tipped it away, getting a new mug out and filling the kettle under the tap, before setting it off. A herbal tea bag was placed into the mug, a spoonful of honey and a slice of lemon to follow, before a pair of arms were wrapping around your waist.

“Hurry up, I want you to open your gift already.”

“Patience is a virtue.” You hummed, and he sighed loudly, shuffling in a little closer to you. His chin hooked onto your shoulder, hot breath fanning over your cheek, followed by a seat kiss, and you leaned back a little into his chest. Your hands rested over your hips where his hand had joined, squeezing lightly, and nuzzled a little further into you. “Besides, I already told you that my gift is going to win this year.”

“I won for the last two years and Valentine’s Day, you don’t stand a chance.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning a little at his competitive side beginning to shine through, and as the kettle finally clicked off, water boiling, you filled your mug, stirring it lightly to spread the flavour, before nudging him backwards with your hips, hearing him groan a little as you did, a false glare on his face form the way you’d pressed your ass up against him to get him to move, but then, he was following you to the living room.

You blew the steam from your mug, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic, the smell of apple and cranberry drifting up to your nose, surrounding you and soothing any worries you may have as you settled down onto the couch. Thomas stood before the tree, one foot poking at the gifts sitting under the decorative branches, assessing them all, before turning to look at you. “Save the best for last?”

There was a smirk on his face, and you mirrored it, his eyes narrowing on you a little bit. “Works for me.”

“Great, so I’ll give you a gift last, then?”

“For now.” His cocky tone was enough to make the game a little more exciting, and he rose a brow, turning to motion at the gifts that you’d placed there, before lifting one up for you. He handed it over, before looking back at the ones for him, and waiting for you to guide him. “Open any, the winning gift isn’t under the tree.”

“I think you’ll find it is.” He teased, pointing to the one he’d wrapped himself, before grabbing the first glitter package with his name on that he could reach.

“Actually, it’s over here, sitting on the couch.” A wicked grin on your lips, and his eyes scanned over you, jaw dropping a little, and you watched as his eyes went half-lidded for just a second, wondering just how filthy his mind had gone, and then he was chewing on his lower lip, seeming to snap back to reality, his gaze snapping up from your tits to your eyes.

He pounced, two strides closing the distance, before one hand was supporting himself on the back of the couch as he leaned over you, pressing a long kiss to your lips, licking his way into your mouth, and groaning a little at the way you pressed back into him just as eagerly, one hand lacing into his hair, pulling on the strands slightly. When he pulled back, it was with your lower lip between his teeth, growling lightly, before letting it go. “I can’t wait to unwrap that gift later, then.”

“Alright, hot stuff.”

He beamed, taking a seat beside you and placing the sparkly package onto his lap, a few pieces of glitter falling away to decorate his pyjama pants, but he was too excited to steady himself anyway. Tearing at the paper, he left it scattered along the living room floor, stripping the gift of its concealment, and lifting it up to take a look. The pause only lasted for a second, before he was lighting up with joy, and turning to look at you with wide eyes.

He'd been talking about it for months, but he had no idea what it was called, or where he would find it, and he was pretty sure he’d never find it. It was a printer for his earpieces, creating custom little cases that he could put on them, so that the boring piece of plastic that he had to wear in his ear all day, every day, on the casino floor, could finally be something a little more exciting.

“I can’t believe you found it!”

“It wasn’t easy to find, at all. What are you going to print first?” He considered it, staring down at the box, before shrugging his shoulders, mind coming up clear.

Flicking your finger under the edge of the wrapping, it popped loose, and you continued to go, watching as he twisted towards you a little more. It was a set of your favourite skincare products, ones that you’d been running out of and kept intending to get more of but always seemed to forget about somehow, and he’d clearly been browsing the website, because the box was stuffed full of all different types of new products, samples and new things to try, as well as bath bombs and room sprays.

The rest of the gifts followed along much the same pathway, simple gifts that were more practical than special, but meaningful nonetheless. You got him new boxers, with reindeers and baubles on, and he smirked as he gave you a new set of lc that could scarcely be counted as underwear, before following it with a filthy kiss and whispered promises for later.

You got him new cologne with a matching shampoo and body wash set, and he got you a new blazer for work after your last one ripped, and you opened all the gifts from your friends and family that were still sitting there. Your last gift to him has been tap bracelets, ones that he could wear at work for when he was feeling anxious, so that yours would buzz whenever he tapped it, and he got a little teary at the gesture.

As the room was littered with ribbons, bows, and torn paper, he picked up the last gift and waved it a little, the couch bouncing underneath you as he flopped back onto the cushions, sitting beside you. “So, not that those bracelets aren’t amazing - because they are - but they can’t top this. Are you ready for the best gift of the year?”

“I suppose so.” You wiggled your fingers, in a ‘gimme’ motion, and it handed it over. You were no longer delicate with the opening, tearing at the paper roughly to reveal what was inside, and shucking it of the silk that hid it, before lifting it up to get a better look.

It was a scrapbook, a beautiful fake-leather design that had golden-embossed letters across the front. Opening it up, there was a small gasp on your lips, pictures of yourself and Thomas that you’d never seen before, right from the very first hours of your wedding.

You hadn't even put on your dress yet, still standing with your hair pinned back waiting to be styled, make-up half done, and a glass of champagne in hand as you laughed with you friends, a shot clearly taken by one of the girls who’d been with you that morning as you got ready. Another beside it was of Thomas, face red and a slightly panicked look on his features as he stood with his shirt half-buttoned, one shoe in hand as he stared around the room for the other, a note written underneath that Newt had hidden it from him just to fuck with him.

Turning the pages, you found ones that were more professional, outtakes from the photographer that weren’t ones that had ever made the cut, slightly blurry ones or the sun shining across the scene, ones where you weren’t looking or weren’t as visible in crowds, and yet they were perfect. Every glance you had cast Thomas, all the moments between you both that the photographer had somehow seemed to capture, memories you didn’t even realise you had all flooding back, the little moments that weren’t staged or pressured like a first dance, your lips sat parted in awe. They had gone one, too, print outs and pictures from your honeymoon, photos you had taken together, or hadn't realised he had taken at all.

“Did you make this yourself?”

“I had a little help, but mostly, yeah. Is it okay?” He lifted his hand to his face, chewing on his nail lightly as he stared at you, and you reached a hand out, bringing it away from his face, and leaning in a little closer to him. He sighed in relief, sensing where this was going, and moving in close enough to rest his forehead against your own.

“It’s perfect, I love it.”

He let out a little laugh, nodding his head to himself in confirmation, before closing the gap. It was a sweet and soft kiss, one that conveyed everything that needed to be said, and paper crinkled loudly as he shifted, pushing it away to the side, falling to the floor after being removed from where it was pressed between your bodies as he pulled you in closer, and you held his face with both hands, nails scratching lightly at his jaw, freshly shaven and soft skin making him shudder as you scratched at it lightly.

“I love you.”

“I know, I love you too.” His mouth moved, trailing along your skin to your cheek, kisses being pressed all the way along, up your temple to your forehead, and your face screwed up at the ticklish feeling, making him laugh as he felt your features wrinkle under his lips. “Gettin’ on into the day, want to go find something to make for Christmas dinner?”

“Absolutely.”

He stood first, offering his hands out to you and pulling you to your feet when your fingers slid into his and held on tight, and he winked a little, hands slipping around behind you, pinching at your ass cheekily and making you jump, shrugging when you gasped and fixed him with a questioning look. “You’re just hot. Your ass has been looking great lately.”

“You’re so horny, all the time.”

“Because my wife is hot, that’s why.” You rolled your eyes, letting him walk a step ahead of you, and you placed a loud smack on his ass as he went, watching as he turned to face you with a dropped jaw and pink cheeks, grabbing at his own ass for protection as he walked backwards. “You did not!”

“What can I say? You’re just hot. Your ass has been looking great lately.” He mimicked you childishly, a grin taking over his features despite it, and he snatched up both of your hands in his, holding them up high like a revered and feared weapon, dragging you into the kitchen as you stumbled over your own feet.

In the freezer, you had a small batch of chicken, some frozen vegetables and an apple pie. In the fridge, you had some potatoes, and enough spices in the cupboards to make decent gravy. He boiled water while you sliced the potatoes, dropping them in to begin boiling, and turning up the radio to listen to the Christmas songs that were playing. Once your chicken and potatoes were in the oven, you chopped up some veggies for roasting, hearing him clatter around in the cupboards, and he insisted that you stayed turned around to face the counter.

When he finally let you look, there was a tablecloth that you had forgotten you even had laid out, white with a few stains around the edges, and a faded and slightly purple mark in the middle from where wine had been split on it and never property come out before it had been permanently put away, but he’d carefully covered it by placing your vase full of winter flowers in the middle. There was cutlery laid out ready, and bowls and plates, and he was overly proud of himself for the decorations, chairs pulled around a little so that you’d still be able to see one another, instead of being blocked off by the centrepiece.

“So, guess what I found while setting up the table?”

“What did you find, baby?”

The sloshing sound gave it away, before he ever pulled it out from behind his back, and he waved it at you a little. “A super nice bottle of wine that was a wedding present. Wanna’ get us some glasses?”

“Not right now, I don’t want to drink when we’re on video chat with our friends.” His face fell a little, brows raising, before he was fixing you with a quizzical glance, and you laughed, shaking your head at his speculation. “Maybe later, okay? I’m having a great time with you right as we are. Besides, don’t you think wine that special is more of a late-night drink, when we’re watching a movie, all alone? Don’t you want to save it for some fun later?”

You dragged a nail along his chest, catching lightly on the fabric on his shirt, and he followed it with his gaze, licking at his lips and nodding his head. “Shit, you’re totally right.”

“Mhm, always am.” You grinned, and he scoffed, but pecked your lips, offering his agreement to you, and placing the bottle down on the counter.

The clock ticked over, half an hour until four o’clock, and you started off the mashed potatoes on reheating, and the rest of the food on cooking, and you had everything that you needed to have a meal. You worked together to clean up the living room, scooping up all the leftover scraps, and you vacuumed all the sparkles that were going to get stuck in the carpet. Once you were finished, you settled down together on the couch, laptop set up before you, and waiting for the group to become active, and to click through onto the camera.

Thomas was pressed up to your side, arm stretched out along the back of the couch behind you, fingers brushing against your shoulder, waiting as everybody joined, until noise was filling your living room, seeing everybody else light up.

As the evening went on, you listened to each of them talk about what they’d done with their day, and show off their presents, and the men had been overly excited to see how their scrapbooking efforts had gone down, Minho complaining about the paper-cuts he’d gotten at every possible chance there was.

You were drunk on the feeling of pure joy, hearing your friends laugh and share stories, the sadness that you’d held about not being able to see your friends ebbing away to be replaced with simple happiness, at getting to hear what their days had entailed despite it. Brenda had dropped an entire tray of roast potatoes, and they had to start again, Minho had fed his dog turkey and vegetables, and the sweet little puppy had thrown it up on his foot after getting over-excited about playing fetch ten minutes later, and Newt had accidentally spilt the water at the bottom of his tree and almost lost an eye on the lower branches while mopping it up. There was a graze just below his left eye.

They shared their gifts, and got progressively more drunk, and some of the other families even stopped by at some points to give a wave, and well-wishes, and talk with you for a quick moment. It was lovely, and perfect in its own way, and when it had been over, you’d been hesitant to end the call at all and let them go. As the screen of the computer had gone black, you’d turned to your lover, legs swung across his lap and cuddling in a little closer as the temperatures began to drop down once again, awe evident on your features as snow was beginning to flutter down once again.

The look on his face was soft as you brushed the strands of hair back and out of his eyes, before they were fluttering shut upon feeling your thumb brushing over his cheek. Your dinner was only minutes away from being ready, and you were content in one another’s company, simply letting the day drain away as you soaked up how it felt just to be the two of you, spending your first Christmas in a home you owned, as a married couple, with everything in the world to look forwards to. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, his arms tightened around you leaning back and into the cushions comfortably, as the two of you sat in loving silence.

The oven-timer dinged, and you were hesitant to move, a groan on your lips, lingering a few minutes longer, before you shifted, his grip on your loosening as you got up. The smell of freshly cooked food filled the air, steam pouring out of the oven from the second that it was opened, and it drifted around you as you began to pull out the trays, hearing your husband clattering around behind you as he gathered plates and cutlery.

Bumping his hip against yours as he came to stand behind you, he had a spoon in his hands, laying the plates out and beginning to dish up the vegetable as you stood beside one another, serving up food in comfortable silence. Warmth was pouring off of the man, he’d always felt like a human space heater, always making it extra comfortable to be wrapped up in his arms, and you were tempted to just fall into his grip right now, but resisted, your stomach rumbling happily as your meal came together.

Leaving all of the equipment stacked up in the sink, that was definitely something you could deal with later, Thomas taking his seat first, leg reached out under the table as he pushed your chair out for you, fingers twitching atop the table cloth as he tries to resist the urge to start eating until you were ready. Placing a glass down for him, you were drinking water yourself, and Thomas raised his brows, accepting the drink you were holding out for him, eyes flicking to the counter.

“No wine?”

“I have plans for the wine later.” You teased, one eye dropping in a wink, and pink spread over his cheeks in an adorable blush, despite him being a cocky as he always was, and his lips twisted up in a slight smirk.

“Oh, yes, I almost forgot that you’d promised me one more gift.” His eyes dropped down for a second, scanning along what he could see of your body above the table, before stabbing at some of the vegetables on his plate and chewing on them happily. It was an odd mix of foods, making the best of your Christmas dinner that you could, and yet, it was one that you’d always remember and be able to tell as a story at parties and to friends in the future, a Christmas that you’d never forget.

This year was undoubtedly the biggest one to ever change your life, a turning point, not just the start of a new chapter, but the ending of one book and the beginning of a whole new one. “We got married this year.”

Thomas glanced up, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth, and you saw the look of mischief flash through his eyes before his lips had even quirked up into a smirk around the words he was forming; “I know. I was there, or do you not remember?”

“Oh, hush.” You frowned, rolling your eyes at him, and he stretched out under the table, toes poking against your foot, before you stretched back, locking your ankle with his own, and he continued to eat as he waited for you to expand on your point. “I just mean, well, look at us. We have a house, and we’re married, and it’s all just ours. We made it all ourselves. Five years ago, I would’ve been at my parents’ house eating turkey and listening to my cousins bitch about how I shouldn’t still be single.”

“Five years ago, I would’ve been drunk by now, listening to Minho flirt with his holi-date and listening to Newt pine after hot magazine models, while I pictured you and how much I loved you, and I didn’t even know your name yet.” Your breathing got stuck a little in your throat, your brows raising at the soft tone in his voice as he placed down his knife and fork across the centre of his plate, shrugging as he leaned back in his seat. “I just knew that one day I’d find the perfect woman; then, a few months later, I met you.”

“I still get butterflies when you tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” He beamed, watching as you squirmed a little in your seat, watching your reaction and knowing the effect he had on you, snickering to himself a little, before sobering up once again. “I still get that tingly feeling when you kiss me sometimes, all the way down to my toes. At the most random of times, like in the milk aisle at the supermarket, or in the bathroom when I'm brushing my teeth.”

“Glad to know I still have that effect on you.” You took a sip of your water, smirking over the rim of your glass at him, and he just continued to stare, a lazy and distant kind of look on his face, and you could tell that his mind had slipped far away, lost in his thoughts, but it was nothing that you weren’t used to. You finished up your own food, and sat with him for a while in silence, fading in and out of your thoughts, slipping to and from for a while, until the chair grew uncomfortable, and you stood up, stretching your limbs out and shaking yourself down.

He watched you go, sighing a little as he did, and taking your outstretched hands when you offered them to him. As he stood, you went from looking down at him to looking up, and he leaned down, just enough to bump his nose against your own.

“Wanna’ go cuddle on the couch with a blanket?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He teased, pushing you a little toward the doorway. “Go find a blanket and pick out a movie, I’ll put everything in the dishwasher and set it off, I’ll be there in two minutes, okay?”

“M’kay.” You whispered, pushing up onto the tips of your toes long enough to steal a kiss from his lips, and he pressed back eagerly upon feeling your mouth against his own. Hands on your waist pushed you back, his lips still puckered as he pulled away, urging you to go and get comfortable. The kitchen tiles were chilled underfoot as you walked away, and the floorboards were still cold to the touch too, but the carpets of the living room were a little warmer, and as you picked up the knitted blanket that was rolled up on the back of the couch.

Wrapping it over your shoulders, you grabbed the remotes, turning on the TV and waiting for the channels to adjust, before you were loading up Netflix to scroll through the Christmas movies. Thomas was clattering about in the kitchen, the sounds of cutlery scraping on plates and of them being loaded into the racks, set up to be washed. As you settled on one, you heard him toying with the controls, beeping signalling that the machine had started up on cleaning the dishes used, and the flooring creaked under every step he took, before the cushions were dipping and caving beside you as he settled down at your side.

Wrapping an arm over your shoulders, he pulled you back into his chest, letting you get comfortable as he did, spreading one leg out along the couch, and one remaining where it was, planted on the floor for support as you settled back into his chest, lips brushing across your head. “I chose us a movie to watch.”

“Whatever you want is fine with me, baby.”

“Such a sap.” You mumbled, receiving a teasing squeeze around you in retaliation for your words as you pressed play, and feeling him tugging at the blanket a little until you shed it, spreading it out over your lap and his legs, until both of you were tucked snugly underneath it, the beginning credits beginning to play.

Yo almost dozed off only a few minutes in, a combination of feeling so full and content, loved and safe in the arms of the man you loved. One hand was sitting in your lap, fingers waived with your own loosely above the covers, while the other was sitting underneath the edge of your shirt, sitting over your stomach, holding you anchored to him.

You barely registered the movie playing, more caught up in your mind over everything you found yourself with, every situation and scenario, every night being able to go to bed alongside the man you loved, and waking up to him in the morning.

Only a few years ago, you were alone, with no idea you were about to meet the love of your life. Then, you’d started a new job, and met a sweet security guard with a cocky attitude and a heart of gold, and he’d stolen your heart right out from under you while sweeping you off of your feet, even when you hadn't planned for it to happen. You had thought you were happy, that you were content with being single and focusing on yourself, and yet, just by being himself, he had somehow become everything you wanted and needed.

You wouldn’t change it for the world.

Halfway through, Thomas had grown bored of sitting quietly, as he usually did, his fingers stroking a little over your skin as he tried to grab your attention, and his lips moving along your shoulder, the ti of his nose stroking stray strands of hair out of his way, until he could get to the column of your throat.

His teeth nipped a little at your flesh, just enough to tease, a light laugh falling from you as you trembled in his arms a little bit, and you twisted around to face him, straddling his lap as you did, and he smiled up, hands coming to sit on your hips as yours sat on his shoulders, thumbs smoothing over the base of his neck. “Bored, Tommy?”

“Little bit. This film kinda’ sucks.”

You tried to suppress the snort of a laugh that you wanted to release, nodding your head as you knew it to be true. It wasn’t the greatest, but it was new and trending on Netflix, and so had given it a go. Shifting out of his hold, he whined a little as you went, but watched you walk away, scooping up one of the boxes you’d given him, and bringing it back over, shaking it excitedly. “Why don’t you try your new gift out, huh? I’ll help you pick something to print!”

He stood up to meet you, nodding his head and taking it from your hands, before trying to undo the tape sealing the box shut, and tipping the components out onto the couch.

“I’ll take everything else to the bedroom, you get it set up, ‘kay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He teased, offering you a little wink, before he was padding across to one of the only remaining empty sockets now they were filled with Christmas lights and decorations, and sitting down on the carpet, legs crossed as he plugged it in and reached back for the instruction booklet.

Grabbing the remaining boxes and bags, you made your way through the house, backing through the door and pushing it open with your butt, before using your elbow to flick on the bedroom light. The boxes were stacked in the corner, everything else sitting on top, a job to be dealt with in the morning. The beautiful leather-bound album that was sitting on top of them all had the embossed lettering glittering under the light, and you picked it up, taking a seat on the bed and placing it down in your lap.

It was physical proof of the love between you both, a record of every moment that you’d been able to map throughout your wedding, your relationship coming to an ultimate peak, and blossoming into something even more incredible. Every page brought you a little closer to tears, as you realised just how much you loved him, and how you wouldn’t be who you were anymore without him. Placing the beautiful album back down, you grabbed the final bag, discarding the tissue paper and pushing the bedroom door closed a little more, a smirk on your lips.

You could hear whispered curses and mumbles coming from your husband as he tried to work out how to operate the machine you’d bought him, and you slipped your clothes from your body, dropping them into the laundry hamper. It only took you a moment to rub a freshly scented moisturiser over your body, skin still smooth and clean from the last shower you’d had, and a few spritzes of the perfume you knew drove your lover mad.

Taking off the pretty tags form the new lacy set laid out on the covers, you slipped the garments onto your body, suspenders clipping once you’d pulled the stockings up your legs, and your breasts were swollen in the bra, and you couldn't deny how good you looked, and felt. Once you were dressed, feet moving softly on the floorboards as you returned to the living room, you ran a hand through your hair, messing it up just enough to be sexy, and leaning on the doorframe.

“You figure it out yet, baby?”

“Almost.” He mumbled, never looking up, and you waited, brows raising a little when he continued to be completely preoccupied with the task at hand. He placed the booklet between his teeth, a huff on his lips as he tried to press a series of buttons again, only for it to beep and flash red at him, and he huffed, not noticing you making your way towards him.

“Little cold in here, don’t you want to warm up?”

“Blanket is still on the couch.”

You grinned, thrilled to know he was enjoying your gift so much, but ready for him to be busy with something else for a little while. Placing a finger under his chin, you twisted his head toward you, his eyes finally leaving the device he’d been tinkering with, and his jaw dropped. The paper fell from his mouth and fluttered away, his eyes dragging along you slowly, down to your feet before moving back up to your face, and then it was all the way down once again. He took in every feature, eyes lingering on the pace where your stockings were held up, the soft flesh there, his fingers twitched a little before he was taking in the intricate lace detailing covering you.

“Holy fuck, baby.” He put the device down, twisting to face you, moving to kneel instead of sitting, and his hands hooked onto the back of your legs, fingers flexing against your calves. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He leaned in to press a kiss to the exposed skin of your upper thigh, an equally wet one to match on the other side, kneeling before you as he kissed at your flesh slowly, dragging the tip of his nose over the front of your covered core, just above where your would’ve really wanted him, and your hand slipped into his hair. His fingers were kneading at your muscle as he worked his way up, until he was taking handfuls of your barely covered ass in his hold, beginning to stand slowly, kissing his way up your body with every inch that he rose upwards, until he was standing fully before you.

Your head tipped back as he sucked on your neck, working to leave a pretty mark on the junction between your throat and shoulder, his hands smoothing over your sides, until he could squeeze at your breasts, making you arch up into his body, a chuckle washing over your skin.

“Jump for me, angel.”

He caught you as you did, more than experienced in the act, lifting you up into his arms as your legs wrapped around his waist, never once stumbling or tripping as he guided you to the bedroom, never letting up on his assault along your neck. Your back met the covers, pressing you down into the soft material carefully, letting you inch your way up until your head was in the pillows as he crawled after you, body covering your own.

Finally, you pulled his mouth to meet yours, a hot and wet kiss, long overdue and sorely needed, his teeth all but clashing with your own from the intensity of it.

He held himself up above you with both hands, his body pressing to your own as one thigh came up to settle between your legs, a whimper leaving you, swallowed by him as the muscle pressed against your already wettening core. When you finally ran out of breath, he shifted his kisses along your jaw, nipping as he went, and you knew that there would be red patches and dark bruises to follow, the slight scrape of his stubble along your skin making you tremble a little underneath him, and your hips bucked up against him.

“S’okay, sweetheart. Go ahead, rub up on my thigh, I know you want to.” His words washed over your jaw in hot breaths, a whine leaving you, before you were doing exactly as he’d offered, hips beginning to roll up against him. The friction sparked something in your gut, a soft sigh leaving you, pressing down harder with each movement you made, seeking out the climax that was slowly beginning to build. As you did, Thomas was shifting further and further down your body, pulling out the ribbons and strings that were holding the lace closed around your body, each bow delicately undone revealing a little more of your body to him. “You look so hot in this. I have good taste.”

He caught your eyes, just for a second, but long enough to wink at you to follow his comment, before he was kneeling back, sitting on his heels and pulling you up alongside him. Settling you in his lap, your arms looped around his neck, legs kneeling on either side of his waist, sitting atop his thighs, a whine leaving you as you could no longer grind against his thigh.

Rough hands on your hips centred you across him, licking over his lips to bite down on his lower lip as he pushed you down against the bulge in his sweats, a quick breath expelled as you did, and his eyes seemed to darken even further, twinkling in the low light pouring in from the corridor.

One arm wrapped around your waist to support you as you leaned back from him, a grunt spilling out as you pressed down harder into him, his cock throbbing through the material against your centre. As you flicked on the lamp, warm light flooded over the room, lighting it up enough for you to see one another, casting shadows over you both that sharpened his features, catching the golden flecks within his eyes as he looked at you.

“Do you feel what you do to me, angel? Pretty lady in my lap, all dolled up in lace. You’re incredible.”

“You have the same effect on me, don’t you worry.” You whispered, leaning in to catch his lips with your own again in a slower kiss. He was holding you to him tightly, mouth working with yours in the slow rhythms that you set, perfectly willing to take all the time in the world, because you had nowhere else to be except right here, with one another. Tracing your tongue song his lip, he let out a soft sound as he parted his lips for you, head twisting to the side so that he could dip into you a little further, tongue exploring your mouth as though he’d never kissed you in such a way before, butterflies rising in your stomach at the delicate way in which he held you.

Tugging at the hem of his shirt, you inched it up along his body, legs tightening around him to hold yourself steady as his arms raised over his head to let you strip it away, before he was peeling the lingerie from your body down, letting it pool around your waist as his shirt fell away from your hands to the floor, discarded for the time being. The second your upper body was able to him, you were being laid back into the bedding, letting him follow after, your head resting a month the pillows, hands on his cheeks to hold his kiss to you, legs wrapping around him as you did.

Fingers inched along your body, the muscles in your stomach fluttering as he did, until they were slipping under the fabric, pushing the crotch of your panties aside to tease a finger through your slick folds. His lips twisted up against your own, a smile that was borderline a smirk against your lips, and his forehead met your own as he pulled back.

“I love knowing I can get you like this.” His lips still brushed against yours as he spoke, a single digit slipping into your entrance, and you arched up into him as the pad brushed along your walls slowly. He set a steady pace, picking up speed as he went, your jaw dropping a little, breath shared between you both as he moved.

He was taking his time, what you had expected would be fast and rough was turning out to be slow and passionate. You’d expected him to take one look at you in the pretty little number he’d bought you and almost tear it right off of you, to fuck you senseless until you were tearing up his back and screaming out loud enough that you’d bother the neighbours if the houses were connected, but instead, you were getting a night of lovemaking and torturous teasing.

A second finger prodded at your entrance, slipping into you with ease as your slick coated his fingers, arousal flowing from you without difficulty, and a cry of his name was dragged for your lips the second he crooked them while buried deep within you. “That’s right, baby. Call my name.”

“Tommy, please, stop teasing me!”

“Tell me what you want, baby love.” He pecked your lips sweetly as you whimpered, fingers slowing even more within you, deep and penetrating movements each time, though, your breath shallow in your lungs as your head began to spin and stomach began to tighten. “Use your words, pretty girl.”

The way his voice had twisted into something a little darker, something condescending that made you cry out, because it was just enough to leave you desperate and gasping as he dominated over you. “More. Faster, harder, anything, I just need more.”

“Yeah? I can do that for you.” He scissored his fingers as he pulled out, stretching your entrance to warm you up, that delicious burn creating a dull ache that was chased away by pure lust, your body shaking as he plunged his fingers back into you. He took it up, doing just as you’d asked, your eyes rolling back into your head with every subtle scrape of his blunt nails against your wall as he fucked your roughly onto his fingers, a filthy sound filling the room as he worked, your hips rocking up into his palm as you tried to meet his motions, clit rubbing against his palm through the layers of bunched up and pushed aside materials that blocked your entrance form him. “Feel you squeezin’ my fingers, angel, so tight. Just like you do when you’re wrapped around my cock. You want that?”

“Yes, yes, I do! Please!”

You could barely form words, the looming climax that was hanging over your head was making you dizzy, and he chuckled, kissing at your jaw, sucking what would become a dark bruise onto the hinge of your jaw, licking wetly over it once he was finished, and blowing cool breath over the wet patch, watching you tremble underneath him. “Tell me what you want, pretty baby. Use your words, or have I fucked you stupid, already?”

A growl on your lips, despite the fact that you’d never speak up, because every time he took on this kind of personality with you it drove you insane, and so you leaned dup inside, catching his lower lip in your teeth and tugging a little, a much louder and more threatening growl in return. His motions stilled, fingers buried deep inside of you, pads pushed up against your g-spot, the pressure making your entire body twitch and tremble at the stimulation, gasping out in need as you groaned.

“I said, use your words, not get sassy with me.”

“You stopped, don’t stop. I’m close, Tommy.” Your fingers brushed over his wrist, trying to get him to move, but he tutted, shaking his head, the tip of his nose brushing over yours.

“Use your words, honey, and you can have whatever you want.” He pulled his fingers out of you, a dirty sound following, and you cried out in distaste, before he was sucking on his fingers, and watching you carefully.

Heat flushed over your face as you watched him, tongue lapping at his fingers noisily as he cleaned them of your arousal, waiting for you to speak up with what you wanted, and you had to force yourself past your shyness, watching his eager enthusiasm as he stared you down, brows raised and waiting with a sultry look on his face. Kneeling back, he settled between your parted thighs, one finger snapping the soaked lace back into place over your folds, and your body jerked at the sting, legs snapping shut as a short but loud moan sounded from you as he did.

He grinned as he felt your thighs clamp around him a little, large hands smoothing up over your legs, undoing the clips that were holding up your stockings, eyes fixed on yours as he moved, in no hurry.

“Tommy..”

“Yes, my love? You got something to say to me?”

You pushed up on your hands, propping yourself up before him, and his eyes dropped down to the swell of your tits momentarily, caught in awe momentarily, and the confidence it gave you rushed through your body. “I want you to fuck me, Tommy. Fast and rough, real good, like I know you can. Make me scream, Thomas.”

“See? Now that wasn’t that hard, was it?” His hands hooked into the rest of the fabric, yanking it down your hips and off of your body, throwing it away to the floor. Calloused palms landed on your knees, pushing your thighs apart, and your body collapsed back into the bedding. “That’s all you had to say.”

You sneered a little, jumping as he pinched at the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, before he was standing from the bed, palming at his evident erection through the worn thin cotton of his sweats, a slight wet mark forming on the front of his pants from the precum dribbling from his cock, before he was pushing them away down his legs. They pooled at his ankles, kicked away, and you reached out to him, curling a finger as you beckoned him closer to you.

Instead, he caught your hand, pulling your hand in towards him a little and curling your fingers around his length, a breathy sigh leaving him as you took the hint and pumped him slowly. Swiping the pad of your thumb over his head, he hissed a little as you brushed across the slit on his cock, collecting up the wetness that was beading there, and pulling your hand away, sucking the digit between your lips as he watched through half-lidded eyes.

Rolling down onto the bed beside you, the mattress dipped under his weight, bounding you up into his body, and he took your momentarily elevated height as an opportunity to press a rough kiss to your lips, one hand tangling in your hair. The taste of your own essence was spread to your lips, matching the salty taste of his arousal still lingering along your lips, making everything seem even more erotic.

Lining himself up, you felt him gasp into your mouth as he sank into your awaiting heat, your breath forced from your lungs as you felt him stretch you out in a way that had always worked so perfectly, the two of you syncing up in perfect harmony just the way you always did, his cock sitting snugly between your walls. He filled you up, a delicious friction with every ridge within you that dragged against him, every pulse he made making you pulse around him, a connection so deep and intimate that it made you flush every single time it happened.

One of your hands sat on his shoulders, the other weaving into his hair to scratch at his scalp lightly. “Kiss me, Thomas.”

“Thought you wanted me to make you scream?” He whispered, leaning down enough to catch your lips with his, not waiting for your response, soft kisses that seemed completely fractured from the moment, out of place or wrong, and yet completely and utterly right. Drags of lips over your own, making your racing heart skip a beat on your chest at the tenderness of the way he held you, your hand tightening in his hair until he groaned a little as you tugged on the strands, and your lips were stinging a little when he pulled back, his own red and swollen to match.

“I do want that, I just wanted some lovin’ first.”

“I'm always lovin’ on you, baby.” He smiled, stealing a final kiss from your lips, before he was pulling out, every inch of him dragging over your inner walls, pausing for only a second to prolong your sensual suffering, before he was slamming into you. A rough thrust that made every nerve within you light up, and you barely had time to process your own thoughts, to take a breath or cry out his name, before he was repeating the action.

The hand in his hair twisted even tighter, pulling on the soft strands as you held onto him, trying to ground yourself down to the earth. Every time together and you feel like you were floating in the clouds, reaching heaven with every thrust he delivered. The telltale signs of another climax were beginning to show, the coil in your stomach tightening and your body was lighting up with fire.

Cupping his face, your thumb smoothed over his cheek, feeling him lean into you, before he was slowing down for only a second in order to pull your hand down pinning it to the bed and lacing his fingers with your own. The tip of his cock was pressing up to the sweet spot inside of you, your back arching up, sweat beading along his skin with the speed of which he was filling you up, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “You’re always so damn tight, honey. Love the way you feel.”

You could only nod, the stretch of him tucked within you making every thought in your head seem to evaporate, and your hand slipped along his shoulder to his back. Nails digging into pale flesh, tearing tracks in mole-speckles skin that would show up red and raw, and he pressed up into your touch, the slightly biting pain being something that you knew he loved, especially when he really wanted to go wild. A deep noise in his throat, something between a groan and a growl, before he was pulling back, both hands slipping down your body.

He started at your chest, large hands cupping around and plump tits in his hands, groping tightly until you keened up into him with a whine, your hips rolling to meet his movements as he kept them going. You could barely breathe, the weight of your oncoming peak was crushing you, while burning you from the inside out and as though he had sensed it, he slowed down, barely moving now, letting you fuck yourself against him as you tried to coax him into action, but it was of no use.

Dipping down, he caught one stuff nipple between his teeth, a light nip that made you cry out, a sound that was high-pitched and sharp as your head spun, sense and focus fading away as your vision grew fuzzy, walls clamping around him. His mouth closed further over your breast, sucking the supple flesh into his mouth, teeth grazing soft skin as his tongue lapped leisurely at the buds that were standing taut for him, and he knew exactly how to press all of your buttons, years of experience working well for him. The other hand furthered your pleasure by toying with the mound on the other side of your chest, skilled fingers tugging and taunting until you couldn't take it anymore.

Your second orgasm of the night, spurred on simply by his obsession with your breasts, and yet it hadn't been the first time he would make you come simply by playing with them, and it wouldn't be the last.

“So reactive for me, sweetheart. How do you feel, hm?”

He pulled away, chin and cheeks a little shin from his own spit, a cold breeze sweeping over your chest, and he dipped down, giving the other the same treatment, without quite as much ferocity, and you could barely form words as you tried to reply, to tell him how good he always made you feel, but there wasn’t any competent ability left within you.

“Oh, have I fucked all the sense out of your pretty little head, huh?” You could only nod, watching as his ego inflated a little more before your very sights, his eyes sparkling with mischief and chest puffing out. One hand dragged along your stomach as he sat back fully, fingers spreading out across your stomach, his gaze following, and you grinned, watching as he did so. “How about I fuck something into you, huh?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He bit down on his lip, his cock pulsing within you, and you longed to know just what kind of images were going through his head that had garnered a reaction like that, and soon, his mouth was opening to spill it all to you, without you even needing to ask; “Thinkin’ ‘bout how pretty you’d look all swelled up with my baby in you, tits getting bigger, ready to feed our kid. Prettiest mom on the whole damn block, you’d be. All mine, making our family, one of these next Christmases, maybe they’ll be little feet wandering around, or you’ll be all around, ready to pop, give me a son or daughter, huh?”

“That what you want? You wanna’ put a baby in here, huh?” For emphasis, you squeezed around him, a threatening sound making itself known as a warning glare was mixed upon you, one that only fueled the inferno raging within you as you teetered on the building of your next peak. “Big talk, think you can live up to the hype? Been months now, you still haven’t knocked me up, Tommy. Better get to it.”

“You’re circling dangerous ground, baby. Better watch your fuckin’ mouth.” He hissed, leaning back over you, a dark look stitching into his features and you shrugged, trying to calm your heart as it threatened to break your ribs and burst right out of your chest.

“I don’t know, I’m just saying. Maybe, you’re not fucking me good enough.”

“Oh, I’m gonna’ show you who fucks good enough. I don’t want you to be able to walk or talk after this, I want your throat so torn up your attitude is kept inside.” Red flushed along his face, right down to his neck, and excitement was bursting through your body. With rough hands on your hips that would leave dotted bruises on your flesh come morning, you were flipped over, your stomach pressing into the bedding.

You gasped, his hands smoothing up along your back, before he was leaning over you, dripping and wet cock pressed to your thigh as he pinned you down to the bed. Hot breath washed over your cheek, before he was biting lightly on your earlobe, the bed dipping on either side of you as he knelt over you, and you pushed back into him. Rolling your hips up, he growled a little, pressing you back down into the bed even more.

“Behave, sweetheart, or I’m not letting you come until you’re crying for it.”

You stilled, going stiff at the simple threat, and he chuckled, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your shoulder, hands tracing up along your arms as he trusted you to keep them in place. Settling behind you, a loud smack was placed to your ass, the skin stinging deliciously as the patch flared up with heat, feeling him palm at the patch as he soothed it over a little, a yelp tearing from you when he repeated the action on the opposite side without warning, and you bit down on your lip just to muffle the sounds.

Your hips were pulled up, before hands on your shoulders were following, pulling you up until you were kneeling before him, a hand smoothing around your waist. He patted lightly at your stomach, rubbing over it carefully. His hands then dipped further down, two fingers parting your folds, rubbing lightly at the button nestled between your thighs, and your hips jumped up into his hand, a shaky sound emitted from you.

“C’mon, Tommy, it’s Christmas. Stop teasing me.”

“Okay, sweetheart, since you asked so nicely.” He mumbled, fingers dragging up your body, wet trails of your own arousal left on your skin, before he was slipping them between your lips. You sucked tightly, the taste of your own slick covering your tongue as you lapped at the digits, cleaning them off as he hummed happily into your ear, chin hooked over your shoulder. Your hand slipped down between your bodies, lining him up behind you, before he was easing into you.

His groan in your ear was drowned out by the loud mewls that you let out, fluttering and overly sensitive walls welcoming him back, gripping onto him tightly as he sank his full length within you. The second he was within you, his fingers were leaving your mouth, pushing you back down until your cheek was flush to the bedding, fingers digging into the blanket and nails threatening to tear at it as he wasted no time.

Hips snapping into your own, a bruising pace that would leave you with that ache between your thighs that always made you shake in the morning to follow as you remembered the way that he’d fucked you into oblivion. The sounds you were making were sure to be echoing off of every wall in the house, your throat raw, and you pushed back into him each time, trying to meet his motions, but the pace he was setting was far too fast, and your movements were sloppy in comparison. Your chest was tightening, every muscle in your body going stiff, and your fingers became fists as you tried to hold out a little longer, to not give in as quickly as you thought you might.

You could feel him nearing his edge, the husk of his voice getting a little deeper, cracking each time he edged closer to his own orgasm, his cock throbbing within your walls as he fucked you into the bed. One hand tangled in your hair, tugging at the roots as he pulled back your head, screams loud and uninterrupted for him to hear.

“That’s right, baby, nice and loud.” He tugged you back even further, a sharp cry in pain that made everything go into overdrive, before your back was pressing to his chest. One hand came to seal around your throat. Squeezing lightly, your noises cut off, going silent in your throat as your vision spotted. “Tell me again, baby, who doesn’t fuck you good enough?”

Your mouth opened again, no sounds coming out, simple squeals as he loosened his grip a little. The other hand was on your waist, gripping so hard that the area was beginning to tingle, blunt nails pressing into your skin, and your climax began washing over you. Your jaw going slack, your eyes rolled back as your head sat on his shoulder, and your screams had gone completely silent as white heat shot through your body. Every nerve lit up in your body, like fireworks going off in your core. He didn’t stop there, fingers slipping down to rub at your clit, your body jerking in his grip as broken gasps spilt out.

Sparks ran all along your body, tears lining your eyes as he abused the bud with his rapid-paced motions, and a scream tore from you as that same climax became doubly as strong, bliss taking you over as you felt boneless. He didn’t let up, not until your cheeks were wet and you were going limp in his arms, legs slick from your gushing arousal. When you couldn't take it anymore, crying in his grasp, he let you go, your entire body quivering while you settled on the mattress. His cock slipped from you for only a second as you were turned over in his arms.

He all but collapsed down on top of you, face pressed into your neck, chest pressed up to yours and you could feel his heart thudding against his chest and straight through to your own. With a few final thrusts, weak and desperate, he stiffened, ribbons of hot cum pumping out with your walls, making you whimper just at the feeling that would never be anything other than otherworldly bliss as he filled you to the brim.

“Fucking hell, I’ll never get used to that.” He mumbled, words muffled by where he was still pressed up against you, nose nuzzling into your hair, and your arms wrapped around him. He hissed a little, feeling your fingers smoothing along his body and brushing over the raw rips along his flesh, made by your nails in the heat of pleasure.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s hot as hell.” He teased, making to roll over when he felt you trying to laugh underneath him, and you squeaked as he took you with him, rolling your exhausted body up and on top of him. His hands found your hips, holding you down firmly onto him when you wiggled back towards the bedding. “Where do you think you’re going, huh?”

“Preferably onto the cool blankets. I love you, but you’re hot and sweaty, and so am I.” You mumbled, pressing yourself up over him, and his hands ran up and down your sides lightly, shrugging as he did. His hair was messy, skin flushed and shining with sweat, accompanied by swollen lips, looking like pure sin as he lounged beneath you.

“Nuh-uh, angel. I told you I was going to fuck a baby into you, and we’re not letting a drop go. Stay right where you are, keepin’ my cock nice and warm, and keeping you full of cum.” As if to emphasise his point, he tugged you down into him, and you chuckled as you found yourself leaning against a slightly sticky shoulder, nails scratching at the hairs on his chest as you tried to catch your breath properly. “Guess I gave you another kind of white Christmas, huh?”

You couldn’t contain your laughs, your body shaking a little above him as the pair of you snickered at his joke, yours out of exhausted embarrassment and his out of genuine humour and pride. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“Hm, I didn’t marry you for your bad jokes, they were just an addition that I got burdened with.” You teased, a light spank landing on your ass, before both hands were settling on your cheeks, squeezing lightly, before he was jiggling gently, entertaining himself with those basic actions, your cheeks heating up and eyes rolling a little. “Having fun there?”

“A lot, actually. I love your ass.”

“Yes, well, not that I’m not used to it, but how long do you want me to lay here?” You mumbled, hand smoothing out over his chest, slipping around to sit on his side over his ribs instead, and snuggling down a little more to get comfortable.

“Just ‘til you’re pregnant.”

“Oh, great.” You teased, finding him puffing his chest up underneath of you, one of your fingers ping at his chest. “Excited to be a daddy?”

His half-hard cock twitched within you interestedly, and he groaned. “Don’t you dare ruin that word for me.”

“Which word?” You mused, one hand on his cheek, kissing along his stubbled jaw, up to his ear, licking lightly at the shell as he trembled under your touch. “Do you mean ‘daddy’?”

“Baby, please, stop it!” He whined a little, and you hummed, before pressing back a little along him, his length hardening with you as your hips rocked back into his own. He grunted, hold tightening on your body, but never stopping you, letting you rock back into him. Your clit was pressed up to his pelvis from this angle, a perfect friction for every grind, and he whined a little when you propped yourself up even more.

Nails digging into his chest, he stared up at you, tits bouncing and skin glowing in the dull light of the room, hair messy to match his, and you felt beautiful under his stare, watching as he licked at his lips, jaw gaping and eyes scanning along your body.

He eventually settled on the place where the two of you were connected, the simple rolls of your hips becoming more, as you settled into your position of riding his cock, bouncing up and down along his length, and beads of creamy cum leaked from you as you did. You could feel it, the mixtures of both of your arousals leaking from your body, a stick messy dotting the dark hairs curled at his base, before he was reaching a hand down, thumb pressing loosely to your clit, making bored motions as his other hand reached out.

You knew exactly what he wanted, the way his lips puckered, hips thrusting up to meet yours as he grew lazy underneath you, his eyes hooded and dark, a smirk on his lips, before he was bringing your mouth down to his.

Sloppy kisses that barely met the mark as such, his teeth dragging over your lips, tongues clashing and tangling together in wet knots as you moaned into his mouth, sounds quietened by one another as the sounds of teenage-style making out filled the room instead.

It was messy, and filthy, and completely effortless, but as you shook above him, a much lighter climax washing through your body, the final bit of energy that you had being spent, he chased after you, giving you what last he had, until it was dribbling out of you.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” He whispered, never letting up on his kisses, rolling you over a little as you tried to pull away to catch your breath, his mouth following in an unceasing assault against your own, giggles filling the air as he did. One leg hooked over his hip, the other flattening out, and he let you lay down at last. Pushing him away with one hand, he finally did as told, cock slipping from you, making out whimper a little at the soreness you craved finally being present, and you tried to roll away from the bed.

He reached out, with no energy left, his hand coming into contact with the bedding instead as you stood up. His eyes follow you though, a ridiculous boasting look glimmering in them as he watched his cum drip down your skin, barely being properly cleaned up by the handfuls of tissues you used.

You hadn't even made it two steps away from the bed, before he was reaching out, yanking you back down into the bed beside him, so that he could lay his head across your chest and wrap you up in his arms.

“Tommy, let me up.” You giggled, poking at the man who was half splayed out across you, the covers pulled up loosely over your bodies, pooled around his waist, and he grunted with discontent when your fingers stopped running along his back, nails dragging at his skin soothingly, to instead push at his shoulders. “Thomas!”

“Mh, no. I’m comfy, you’re warm.” His words were whispered, eyes fluttering a little, and you groaned, using all the strength you had to push him off of you and roll him over, placing a pillow to his chest as he reached out to latch onto you. He cracked an eye open when he felt the bed dip, watching as you edged toward the door, feet hitting the ground. “Where’re y’ goin’?”

“I love it when you get clingy and sleepy.” You teased, leaning back down to peck his lips, before making your way to the drawers, grabbing some fresh clothes for yourself, he made a grabbing motion at you, snatching loosely at the clothes you threw to him, catching none of them as they scattered around the messed up bedding around him, and his hand fell back down to the covers. “I have one more present for you.”

“I thought we did all the presents.” He sounded strained, sitting up as you pulled on a robe, tying it at the waist to keep the chill away, and shrugging a shirt onto his shoulders, a tremble running along him in the chill, before reaching for his boxers, watching you inquisitively.

“Well, I had one more. I wanted to do it with our friends, but we didn’t get to, and this gift just wouldn't be the same over the camera. We can tell them at New Years.”

“What does that mean?” There was a playful curiosity in his voice now, and you winked, backing out of the door, and making your way through to the bathroom, and into the cabinet where you kept all of your feminine products, a place Thomas only ever entered upon your request, to retrieve the secret little bag stuffed with wrapping paper that lay within. “Baby, what does that mean?”

“Have some patience!” You yelled back, wiping up a packet of tissues as you went, before padding back along the cool floorboards to the warmed carpet of the bedroom, jiggling it a little at him. He was sitting up now, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to shake himself awake, and you moved to kneel beside his legs, clutching onto it and placing the tissues down onto the bed beside you.

“Is it messy?”

“What?”

He took the package, ribbon on top sealing it shut, and he nodded his head to the packet you’d put down. “The tissues; is it messy? Oh, is it flavoured condoms?” He smirked, your jaw dropping a little as you laughed.

“Would you want to open a packet of flavoured condoms in front of your friends at Christmas Day dinner?”

He cringed, shaking his head. “Okay, you got me. I’m at a loss. Can I open it?”

You nodded, thumb flicking under the packet of the tissues to open them up, watching as he nimbly undid the ribbons, and you pulled one of the soft, folded papers out. Parting the sides of the bag, he stared inside, a single object sitting within, and he squinted at it for a moment as he tried to decipher what he was holding, and what exactly it was said, before his eyes widened.

He flipped it over in his hands, holding it carefully now within two fingers, dropped jaw and watering eyes, before finally looking up to you. “You win.”

“Told you I would.”

“You win this year, you win next year, you just won every Christmas for the rest of our lives.”

“I know.” You teased, watching as a tear dropped from his eye, wiping it away gently, and he trembled a little, bringing his hand up to your wrist to pull your hand away from his face, tugging you in closer.

“It’s real?”

“You think I’d fake it?” You joked, your own eyes watering, and he let out a breathless and shaky laugh.

“And you’re totally sure?”

“I had an appointment the other week to confirm it, they called a few days ago. One hundred percent positive.” He was crying again, snatching the tissues from your hand to instead pull you closer, a needy kiss pressed to your lips, as he tried to calm himself down, to bring himself to earth, and wet cheeks slid against your own, a smile on his lips despite trying to kiss you.

“I’m going to be a dad?”

“Yeah, baby. This is the start of our family.” He pushed you back, rolling you into the bedding as the packaging and gifts were discarded. He pecked your lips one final time, before he was tugging at the knots on the front of your robe and lifting your shirt, hands pressing over your stomach lightly.

His fingers were smoothing over your skin, featherlight touches, complete awe on his face as he stared down at your torso, and he grinned widely, dipping down to kiss at your navel lightly. “I love you so much, little one. I already know you’ll be amazing.”

“It’s about the size of a grain of rice right now, Tommy.” You laughed a little as his hands smoothed around to your sides, cheek pressing to your stomach as he laid down, and your fingers wove into his hair lightly.

“I don’t care, I love them. Boy or girl, whoever they become, they’re perfect.”

“Merry Christmas, Thomas.” You whispered, his eyes meeting yours, chin balanced on your flesh, and he smiled, a kind of content softness that only you ever got to see.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” He turned back, nose nuzzling at your stomach. “And, Merry Christmas to you, little one.”

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