#is it a crime to want to be bitten?? marked up and devoured?? feel the sting of someone's teeth against her skin??

[quietlyblooms]

i'm going to bed but just remember chiyo will go from cute and demure to sly and feral in a heartbeat <3 just gotta know what buttons to press <3 okay gn mmmmwah!!!

[darkpoisonouslove]

Keep You Alive

Summary: An arranged marriage could be the end of the world for a queen whose heart is not her own anymore. It’s when Griffin has to make sure it won’t be the end of her life, that fear truly sets in in the place of trust long gone. Bringing back something dead will be a feat – magic or no magic. And the strongest magic in existence is against her. AU.

This has sat unedited for a long time and now that I felt the Griffin and Valtor feels returning, I finally broke it out of its little prison. What can I say? I'm a sucker for arranged marriages.

CW for some violent descriptions, mentions of blood and murder and sexual content.

Griffin's heartbeat punctuated each of her steps into the cold stone of her bedchamber. Their bedchamber. At least for the night. In the morning things would be different.

Her palm was clammy in Valtor's warm grip that never faltered despite the discomfort that had to bleed through to his end as well. He'd barely let her out of his reach all evening, and not once out of his sight. If he'd chosen to share her life and she'd agreed for her own sake and not that of her kingdom, it would've moved her, would've sent flutters through her heart. She wasn't above romance. It was above and beyond her.

Now the treacherous organ had leapt in her throat beating as if the tremble in her vocal cords wasn't straining her composure and self-control. The door closed behind them – her guards sealed outside to leave only silence in which her pulse pounded against her ears. And his. The quiet couldn't hide her like the celebration had.

Her wedding had been one of great splendor, talked about in the whole of the Magic Dimension. A feast of bread and wine from the rich wheat and grapevines her land bore. Silk and jewels from Valtor's mothers. No parental blessing or a hand to lead her down the isle where he'd waited like death coming to claim her at the end of the line. She should have taken another path but there'd only ever been the one for a queen with the naive heart of a free woman.

Valtor had unveiled the world in front of her only to capture her eyes in the frozen cage of his. He'd whispered a compliment of her beauty on the tail end of his loudly proclaimed vows of emptiness. He'd kissed her hand countless times with his burning lips and her mouth only once. But once had been more than enough to stain like the pouring wine. Spilling red. Dripping blood. The words were spiraling in her mind like the rusty railings of the winded staircase she was tumbling down. Right to where her own bed awaited like a tomb for the coffin of his embrace.

His arms were around her and pressing the smooth fabric of the dress into her skin. Like an ice block sticking to her flesh to rip it off upon removal. She'd bleed to death but her foolish heart only pumped her veins fuller of red too dark to be a precious stone. She could almost smell the smoke rising from the ashes in her lungs where his breath lingered. But fear was good. Fear made you alert and sharpened your senses. Fear kept you alive. And that was her one goal tonight – survive her own wedding night.

Valtor's deft fingers found the laces of her bodice to differentiate from the stillness of his hand back when hers had rested in it. He'd been... not inept–as much as she wanted to call him that, she couldn't afford delusions–but stilted, as if the life had drained from him. And now he'd drain hers instead of working for the creation of a new heir for her kingdom. There'd be no more heirs if she didn't play her role right, no more autonomy... no more peace.

Her lips were swallowed in Valtor's kiss silently slithering over her senses like a starving snake. His fingers threaded in her hair to make the elaborate hairdo–designed to hold the crown on her head–give way like a broken dam with just a few strategical touches. The pull of his power was wringing tears from her soul as her hair spilled down her figure just like his breath flooded her lungs. He had more magic than her, his mothers more still – the only ones to still yield the craft in its full potency. She had to count on their arrogant use of it, on their lack of strategy to defeat them.

The taste of sweet wine and sugar from the buffet of pastries was bitter all the way into her throat with his tongue shoved in her mouth as if to block out her air. Their first kiss had been far less vindictive out there in public and she had to give him credit for his own acting if not anything else. He was at least putting decent effort into her assassination.

It was her own breath assaulting her ears once he let her have a gasp of oxygen. She was panting next to his barely quickened inhales, the puffs of cool air in a jarring contrast with his flushed cheeks. His adrenaline had to be rushing as high as hers. The only thing they had in common was the opposite ends of her murder they stood on.

"You're breathtaking," Valtor lied through his teeth, his facade impeccable with all the magic underneath filling potential cracks. All she had to fight him with was her own wit and skills.

She let a smile crawl on her face despite herself. If it were as breathtaking as he claimed, he'd drop dead from suffocation. And if not, it would be a horror show to haunt him for his crime against her. "Are you sure at least half of it isn't just the dress?" She wanted it gone as much as he did. At least then they could stop pretending this farce had anything to do with love or her happiness. It was all about politics. That was all her life was ever going to be. Funerals over politics.

"To be honest, I haven't even noticed the pattern." That would be hard to believe if not for his keen gaze keeping track of her mannerisms and words in search of telltale signs about her awareness of the truth. "I've been thinking of what's underneath," he sent her stomach lurching at the thought of what would come after the stardust of her wedding crumpled in her feet. After her death.

"Why don't you find out?" her voice tempted, no deception in play. "Or are you afraid?" Challenges were the way into his head. She'd figured as much while he'd been prying around into her heart. He hadn't had one for her to return the favor. "I didn't bite when you pulled off my veil." She hadn't had to. He'd bitten the bait as the wedding ceremony dictated.

"Did you expect me to be bolder?" Of course not. He was no fool despite his arrogance. "We were in public."

"You've been a perfect gentleman all evening." Except for plotting her murder. She was no fool either. "Why don't you drop the act?"

The lightness dropped from his face leaving serious features carved in ice. He'd be the most gorgeous statue she'd seen. Instead, he was the vilest being she'd encountered. A charming prince to her face and a murderous backstabber when she turned away.

His fingers reached under the fabric and she assisted the dress off of her body to spare herself his prints on her skin after the few times she'd let them leave his mark on her being. His gaze was more than unbearable, flaying her alive for him to wear her title as his own once her kingdom was annexed by his mothers' empire to be erased from history. No name would mark her downfall, nor that of her land. No grave would remember her existence. So she wouldn't remember his in her being, wouldn't let him leave traces of it on her body. Not again.

Valtor let her step out of the dress of her own volition–a last courtesy to himself as he devoured the sight of her nakedness after he'd taken her underwear along with the masquerade–before pushing her back on the bed with the roughness of an animal. Something sparked in his eyes that could have singed her with a surge of passion had she chosen him to bed her. Now it was just a dull pain in her lower stomach from the nerves knotting themselves there as she waited to be burned alive.

Instead of his magic it was his scorching skin on top of her pulling a squeak out when his weight pinned her down and her nipples brushed his chest. He was lying on her, naked in the second it'd taken him to climb over her despite the stumbling from the wine or other intoxication. His hot flesh roused goosebumps on her own as her stiff muscles writhed in confusion below.

The hum he stole from her with his kiss carried her unbridled surprise like a charge of magic. She was revealing herself, caught off guard by his naked frame. His cock was pressed into her hip, hard as a rock and bruising her with the pulse of arousal it sent through her despite the cause of it being her own blood in his mind's eye. And his hands grabbed her thighs pulling them apart to open her up to him and fill her with the impulse to give in. His hot mouth on her neck singed her alertness and his muscles pressed into her, crushing her resistance.

He reached between them and a whine tore from her lips. Enough to startle both of them with her genuine desperation and distract him to give her the time to catch herself. All thoughts of his cock emptied from her head. Only the memory of the liplock she'd had on him was left after the wave of his magic, tangible even to someone with much less of it.

She grabbed his wrist with a couple inches to spare between her throat and the razor sharp point of the dagger he'd conjured. "If you kill me, you'll be dead by the next full moon." Her eyes burned into him the same way his skin did under her hand as he drove the blade through the air between them. His strength ate away at hers while his magic scorched her fingers like he'd set them on fire.

The blade stabbed through the bed on her left piercing her ears with the wail the mattress gave. It was like a shriek of death and the cry of a newborn all at once. She was alive. She just had to keep it that way.

"I've poisoned you," she fired out before he could change his mind and slice her throat open anyway. She held his gaze as it flared, the intensity of it licking at her to consume her or melt her skin.

"Wine?" was all he asked as he sat on top of her, his arms trapping her between them like thick steel bars.

"No." That would have been too risky with so many people around. "It was my lipstick." He'd ingested the poison at the wedding ceremony. And she'd ingested it, too, from his tongue stuffing her mouth. "It's a slow poison. Designer. It's tied to the phases of the moon and I'm the only one who knows the antidote." She'd been tempted to use belladonna and be rid of him, watching him struggle as even Belladonna failed to help her son. Even her magic wouldn't be able to counteract extract from the plant. But Griffin didn't want the revenge of the three witches. She wanted them to leave her alone. "It needs to be taken every month. Otherwise, the newest tide of the poison will kill you. So if you want to live, we're stuck together," she had to sell this even without his charm at her disposal. Considering she wasn't entirely convinced of being his only option. He always had tricks up his sleeves. Could she count on him being naked when he'd pulled a dagger on her out of thin air? "No more weapons in my presence. And you can't go to your mothe-"

"I won't." The reply caught her off guard again unlike his mothers' departure in the late hours after the wedding reception. They'd distanced themselves as insurance in case something went wrong. They'd renounce Valtor's actions and have an alibi. He was on his own as well. Under their control.

"You understand that I find that hard to believe after your attempt on my life." She could still see the gleam of the blade – brighter than her eyes and colder than his. It was just her magic suppressing the shaking of her muscles that nearly left her wishing for the fire he hadn't used on her. Or for the heat of his body. His erection still burned against her skin.

"I wasn't going to kill you," Valtor's words had her teeth grinding together before she could swallow the load of crap he was trying to feed her in revenge for the poison.

"Were you planning on keeping a lock from my hair then?" She'd push him off of her but just the thought of any more of him touching her was too much. She couldn't stand the beauty of his appearance and the ugliness of her own attraction to him despite the knowledge in her head.

She'd known his behavior had been an exercise in decorum and his courteousness had been practiced. Yet she'd still fallen for his horrible attempts at jokes that had been too genuine to be anything but, for his sharp mind that couldn't have been an imitation just like the diamonds he'd given her, and the look in his eyes when the sparks had died to leave behind an emptiness begging to be filled. She'd sworn no one could fake that. He'd deceived her and she had to accept it. Sooner if she wanted to be alive for the later.

"I was going to use the dagger, yes," Valtor had her attention pinned to the bed with a knife as well, dissecting it with the emphasis in his voice, the frustration in it. As if she was the traitor between the two of them. "I was going to draw blood from the hollow of your throat to bind us together with magic."

"What?" The hollow of her throat? How was that an explanation? A justification of his actions? Was that supposed to make her feel better? She was a sacrificial lamb in a game of politics, nothing more. She wouldn't be able to look at a chess set ever again even if she got the opportunity, if she survived her wedding to him.

"My mother can read minds."

Lysslis. Then her plan would have been no more than a delay of the inevitable. If Valtor wanted it, she'd die after Lysslis read her mind for the antidote. She was fully dependent on him slicing into her neck like she was a woodcarving.

"I was going to bind us together by mixing our blood. That way when she tried to read one of our minds, she'd see nothing. As if the 'voice' has jumped into the other."

Vocal cords. Her throat. Griffin brushed her fingers over the delicate flesh. He would've given her a fighting chance against his monstrous family and she... She gasped. She'd poisoned him in return.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She'd poisoned him. Poison! She'd thought he was her murderer. She'd swallowed her heart about a thousand times that day alone, the broken pieces slicing through her insides every single one of them. If she'd leaked blood, she would've flooded the whole planet. If she'd let herself cry, she would've shriveled into nothing after the sorrow had spilled from her body. "Why didn't you tell me? You should have told me!"

"I couldn't risk it. I thought she might read your mind."

Her blood froze solid in her veins when she had to move. What good was being safe in the future if she'd betrayed the past to his mothers? She had to warn-

"She didn't deem it necessary," it was the disgust with which Valtor spat out the words rather than their meaning that left her shivering as the ice freed her. "Probably thought it was a waste of efforts since you were to die anyway. They were so secure in their victory. I couldn't risk putting you in more danger. Or myself." His hesitation clenched her heart with her own distrust mirrored in him. "It would've been harder to keep my plan from her if I'd let you in on it. Our interactions always linger on the surface of my mind."

She was flushing again, this time from the warmth of the confession accompanied by that of his skin against hers. She laid her hand on his chest covering his heart, no flinching from him to choke her. "Valtor-"

"I thought you trusted me enough." His gaze stabbed her with the icicles it shed right over her vulnerable flesh. "I would've explained. I wanted to make it as painless as possible and sex magic can be used to a great degree for relieving distress, both emotional and physical."

Oh. Well, she hadn't known that. She had the archives she'd inherited from her mother and knowledge she'd gathered with Ediltrude and Zarathustra and Faragonda and there was still much more. He knew more than her after studying under the only ones that still possessed primal magic. All she'd had in her mind had been the warning she'd gotten and the dagger he'd held above her ready to shatter her skull.

"You were terrified of me," Valtor cupped her cheek and the familiar tenderness had her shaking as the terror oozed from her pores to stick to her skin. So much for her collected facade. "I thought you were just nervous because of our wedding night but you thought I'd kill you? Did I fail that hard at conveying my feelings for you? I know I was being subtle but I was certain we were on the same page."

They had been. They had been and then that page had been torn out of her hands. Her eyes welled up with tears when Zara accidentally tore a hair while braiding her locks but she hadn't even been allowed to cry or scream at his assumed betrayal. She'd had to keep her agony inside where it'd charged at its prison and broken all of her bones.

"I had a source that informed me of the plans for my assassination. A source that I've known longer than you," and that was miraculously still safe thanks to both their unassuming power that was safe in Griffin's mind, "and when you never tried to hint something was wrong or warn me in any way... it sounded reasonable."

They'd said they'd wanted a peace treaty between the Ancestral Empire and the Council's Sovereigns and their allies. Then why pick her as a side in the marriage? She was barely on peaceful terms with the Council, only thanks to her connections and her refusal to bow before Belladonna and her sisters. She'd been the perfect victim to show both sides what happened to anyone who opposed the Empire. Killed. Her kingdom annexed. Her heritage erased like it'd never existed.

"You should have told me before pulling a dagger on me." Even if she hadn't asked before she'd poisoned him. She couldn't have afforded it but he could have explained once in the safety of her bedroom. He'd acted every bit as suspiciously as she'd expected him to.

"Griffin, I'm so sorry you had to go through this," Valtor pulled her into him and she inhaled him. Still, she couldn't nuzzle her head in the crook of his neck, couldn't even hold on. "But poison?" Valtor's wide eyes betrayed his worry. "I never realized your extensive herbal knowledge could be used to such a hostile advantage." The joke fell flat and his chuckle broke its spine with nothing to land on. "Please, tell me there is an antidote that will neutralize it for good."

Griffin nodded. Of course, there was. She wouldn't have put on her lips something that could kill her if she skipped her monthly maintenance. The whole point had been to remain alive. "It will take time to prepare, however."

"Then it will be our second order of business. We still need to bind our blood together." His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger and his muscles met no resistance pulling it out of her poor mattress. She was the one swallowing at the screech the insides of her bed made as the blade slid through them on its way out.

"Do we have to do this right now? Can't it wait? At least until the morning?" Possibly never? The only thing she wanted was to curl up in a ball and sob her eyes out, every shuddering breath a reminder that she was still alive. Though, a knife to the throat was definitely preferable to Lysslis in her head. Or Belladonna's frost and Tharma's lightnings coursing through her veins.

Valtor studied her for a moment, the blade motionless in his hand yet it drew her cautiousness. Her gaze darted to it to return to Valtor just as quickly but the message was clear. "You still don't trust me." No question about it. It was a fact. To both of them now.

"I want to. I really do."

The softness of his hair between her fingers. The warmth of his laughter vibrating in her ears. The hardness of his erection pressed into her. She wanted to feel all of that without flinching every time he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek or slid it down her body to grab at her curves. But it wasn't up to her. They were alone in the bedroom but there was a whole kingdom that she carried on her shoulders. She couldn't stumble and shatter it. Not after she'd refused to bow and let it be taken.

She shook her head. "I know how this game is played." He'd been honest with her but not open. Even his reasons couldn't illuminate the shadows of doubt in her mind where the monsters hid from obliteration. She just couldn't close her eyes and turn their shine on the inside to free herself of the creeping suspicion. She didn't have that power.

"I am not playing a game. And neither are my mothers."

Valtor raised the dagger and Griffin pressed herself into the mattress even though she had nowhere to escape. A jolt shook her when Valtor pierced the headboard with it leaving the blade sticking out. Her headboard. As if ruining her mattress hadn't been enough.

"We don't have to do the spell at all if you're not comfortable with it. But once my mothers learn you're still alive, there will be retribution. Towards both of us. We have to be ready for anything. They knew I was fond of you and thought it a bonus test of my loyalty. It would be in our best interest to get this done as soon as possible." Valtor shuffled down, letting the world loom over her without his body on top of hers to shield her.

"Wait!" Griffin grabbed at him, relieved by the pause that followed even if the silence wound tight around them with nothing more she could say. Everything turned to ash on her dry tongue despite how hard her voice clawed at her parched throat.

"I can't watch you flinch away from me. It's the same as stabbing me with the dagger." His tired eyes skipped into the distance as if to find support of his words in the past. The realization gripped her throat worse than slicing it open would be. "If you can't trust me, then don't cure me from the poison. It will be torture to live when I've finally found someone I could love and then driven them away," he slapped her in the face without even moving. Maybe that was the key to the impact. He was as still as a statue. Cold, hard stone colliding with her fragile flesh.

"I wanted nothing more than to trust you but you never tell me the whole story," she sat up. If he viewed her as an opponent, then she'd be one. "First, it turned out you were their son, then, you showed me you had magic, and now all of this. I try to understand but every time I feel secure in our relationship and in knowing who you are and what I mean to you, you crack in half and there's a whole another person under the crumbling shell... and I need to start again."

"If I wanted you dead, I would've killed you already," Valtor's irises were bursting with flames. A sight very similar to Tharma when she got angry.

Griffin closed her eyes and pushed her frustration out through her clenched teeth. "And I can still kill you." Looking at him hurt with his insistence to follow up on her threat, every step they made leading them closer to that despite their unwillingness. "This is getting us nowhere." She had no strength for more. They had to put an end to all that.

She spun around and grabbed the dagger, pulling it from where he'd wedged it in her headboard. It took up the last of her energy and she was running only on resolve as she pointed the sharp tip towards him. Slowly she inched closer until the edge of the blade was pressed in his chest to no reaction from him. He stood there like he was made of stone but he wasn't. The heat of his skin was tangible on hers and his hot blood would spill if she applied gentle pressure.

"Well? Aren't you scared?" She was putting all her efforts into steadying her hand. One wrong movement would be fatal whether she cut through him or not.

"Afraid of what? Put this into context so I can be fully honest with you. Not leave anything out." He was pushing on purpose and she had to stab him just for that. He was lucky he was her weakness.

"Afraid of pain? Of humiliation?" She'd seen his ego. If it stood between them, he wouldn't see anything over it and if she poked it, he would never forgive her. No matter what he said about his feelings for her. His ego was his weakness and it could be exploited against both of them.

"What humiliation is there in being claimed by a woman?" Claimed? Did he think she was going to cut a brand into him? After he challenged her to kill him? "You are my queen and I vowed to be yours." She leaned forward, falling, the dagger nipping at his peck before she could brace herself against the bed. "I meant that, whether you believe it or not. And I am yours to kill, too."

"What about pain?" her voice trembled with the weakness she couldn't afford in her hand.

"Pain... Pain is a reminder. You can only feel it if you're alive. Breathing is pretty much a guarantee for pain but at least you know you are still in the game." Much too poetic for her. All she got from pain was pain. It was why she'd asked him to be careful with his words.

"What about pleasure?" she lowered her arm, the dagger still clasped between her fingers but now too heavy to hold in vain.

"Pleasure doesn't tell you anything. Not even if it's real or not. But it sure leaves you wishing it was." Valtor looked at her, his gaze clutching hers. "You want the truth? I did consider killing you with this dagger. I was afraid of what defying my mothers would mean. So I considered completing their order. Once again. Like every single time before but I couldn't use my magic. I would take the dagger and carve it into your heart until there was nothing left of it and all your blood was soaking my hands, my skin, all of me. Until your pain soaked all of me so I'd remember–always–that I was alive and you were not. That you'd been alive until I'd spilled all your pain and left you to die to save my own skin." Valtor paused, drawing in a shaky breath. "I can't watch you bleed, Griffin. But I will if it means you're safe. I will cut into your throat and hope the burning reminds you that you're still breathing. I know that's familiar to you, it's real. And you're the most real-"

The dagger clanked against the floor. Somewhere in the far end of the room. Somewhere they wouldn't have to look at it and he'd only be able to look at her.

The sound broke them loose from their respective traps and she lunged at him. Valtor met her halfway, opening his mouth for her tongue to claim him, this time truly. Not like those kisses before that they'd both poisoned. They didn't have to be each other's pain. Only each other's lives. No matter what had been carved on their beings by uncaring hands and pointy words.

Valtor laid her back down on the stabbed mattress. His care morphed smoothly into passion as his hands roamed her body squeezing at her curves and caressing her responsive flesh. She threaded her fingers in his long blond locks to hold his mouth where she could reach it and suck on his lips, trace her teeth over them and nip at his pain receptors.

His hand traveled down her body in lieu of his busy mouth and found its way between her legs to stroke her willing arousal to the surface of her being after the heavy conversation. It didn't take long for her nipples to perk up against the warmth of his chest. His fingers dived in her wetness after a couple pulls on her purple strands once he got the hint of her own tugs on his hair even if some of them had been just passion and not a hidden message.

One last reassurance sought–as if her frantic breathing was not enough confirmation of her craving–and Valtor filled her. Too slowly for the pleasure to explode inside her, her lungs only fully expanding once his whole length was inside her to breathe in their closeness, no fear tainting their joint existence. It was just the thrill of Valtor's touch that set her skin ablaze and sent her heart racing.

The chamber was filled with their shared sounds, a whole concert taking place in private and leaving no room for the stifling silence they'd entered to. The air around them was alive and vibrant with their movements–maybe even some magic–as she met the thrusts of his hips and he left hickeys wherever the hitches in her breath drew him like a map.

Her nails dragged over his back to leave her own traces and hold on as she pressed her cheek to his chest listening to the deep groans he spilled for her. It wasn't the pain that made him tremble like the strings of a harp under her fingers, nor was it fear. It was the mark of her presence that drove his voice inside her mind and if he could trust her pleasure, she could trust his pain, his blade in her throat.

She bit into his shoulder and held on like a bloodthirsty hound while the waves of orgasm shook her. If they took her away, she'd carry a piece of him with herself. His arms around her held her in place, though, held her whole and the confession of her pleasure tipped him over the edge of his own orgasm.

"Griffin," the strained grunt of her name against her ear was like a gunshot missing her body but still carving into her ribcage. Only, it didn't dig into her heart.

It cut it loose from all the strings it sliced itself onto every time it moved, shaken off her throne by the hands grabbing for her crown. She was safe in Valtor's lap, in his arms.

[riddlesofbeaconhills]

Unraveling the Riddle - I

By: aslightobsessionofthings & igotmybearhands

Rated: PG

A little Valentines surprise! A short fluff piece featuring our OC’s Aurora and Fermin, based off the idea of the first time they say “I love you.”

“Come on Fermin, where are we going?” Aurora asked for the fifth time, looking over at the driver with pleading eyes. She was getting bored of being in the car, having nothing to do but watch the scenery since Fermin had confiscated her phone the moment she had pulled it out. 

“I’m not saying! It wouldn’t be a surprise otherwise, now would it?” He said chuckling at the exaggerated pout Aurora gave him, and reaching over to take her hand in his, hoping this would soften her up a bit. 

“It’d be nice if I had something to help pass the time...like my phone maybe.” She muttered, turning her gaze back to the rolled down window. 

“Oh come on! It’s not that bad. Plus, if you did have your phone you’d be staring at the map, trying to guess where we’re going. Or worse, you would be trying to bribe Raul and constantly checking up on Marisol.” He shot back at her. “Why don’t you just sit back and relax? Marisol is sixteen years old, she’ll be fine on her own for a weekend!”

She squinted at him, searching her brain for an appropriate response, but finding none, did as he suggested. She resumed looking out the window, watching the scenery turn from small urban coastal towns to the rural wilderness. It didn’t take long for her eyes to start feeling heavy, resulting in her head rolling to the side as her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep.

When Aurora woke up the first thing she noticed was the lack of movement--they’d finally come to a stop. Her realization was followed by Fermin abruptly shoving his face through her window with a loud hello, frightening her near to death. She let out a small scream and then shoved him back out the window, but not before he stole a quick kiss. He opened the door for her, holding out his hand for her to take and spinning her around into him, capturing her lips once more. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, his lips locked on hers and his arms holding her close to him. Fermin always found any excuse to hold her and it was something she’d never complain about. 

After what seemed like eternity, she finally managed to get her hand between them, placing it against his chest and slowly breaking away from him so she could take in their surroundings. They were at a gas station and the hot sun standing still in the sky indicated it had been a few hours since she’d fallen asleep. She chuckled lightly as Fermin continued to kiss her neck softly, whispering against her skin, “We still have about two hours to go, wanna run inside and get some snacks and drinks while I finish up out here?”

Aurora nodded enthusiastically, untangling herself from him and grabbing her wallet before taking off toward the mini mart. She went up and down the aisles grabbing bags of gummy worms, jerky, chicharrones, and a couple candy bars. She debated on the drinks, figuring they could do with a few bottles of water at least, maybe a couple sport drinks and two iced coffees--just in case. Outside, she found Fermin standing against his car, waiting for her to finish up. 

“I forget how crazy you get when picking out road trip food...should have given you a limit.” He laughed, motioning to the two full bags she was carrying. 

“You’re just jealous of my skills to be in and out in five minutes!” She walked up and handed him the bags with a kiss on the cheek.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to devour half of the supplies she’d bought, each of them tearing into their preferred snack of choice once they had gotten back on the road. Aurora felt re-energized with her stomach full that she didn’t even make a fuss when Fermin stole her bottle of iced coffee, smirking at her as she pulled the second one from the bag and opened it up, taking a sip and pulling back with an audible Ahh. Fermin joined her in her laughter, holding the one he took from her up in cheers.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a weekend off like this.” Aurora sighed, shedding her t-shirt, leaving her in just a bikini top and shorts. She leaned the seat back, stretching out with her feet on the dash and putting herself on full display, much to Fermin’s pleasure, who had been having a hard time keeping his hand from gliding over any exposed skin.

“That is a crime, really. We’re gonna have to change that... I’m gonna make it my personal duty to get you to relax and enjoy life!” He promised her, looking her way and sending her a devilish wink. 

Aurora reached over and caressed his cheek fondly, “I’d like that.”

He grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers and placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand. He didn’t let go when Aurora pulled both their hands and placed them on her lap, a smile plastered on her face letting him know that things were definitely going to plan. Not wanting to ruin the mood, he hesitated before bringing up the question that had been on his mind since he’d met Aurora and her cousin. 

“What did you want to do with your life...before you came here?”

Aurora was momentarily taken aback by the rudeness of his question but she considered it nonetheless. She knew what she had been told to do--by her parents, by her friends, by her Alpha, but if she was being honest, she hadn’t really given any thought about what she wanted to do. She knew what she didn’t want: a loveless marriage with strings of affairs that were known, but never talked about and weekends at the country club. That was what her family and friends from her life before Moira knew--a meaningless life built on privilege and internalized racism, lacking in love and purpose--in family and unity. It was only when Miranda had befriended her and taken her home that Aurora had learned what a real family was--full of people you love and who loved you in return. Once bitten, she had fully embraced pack life and was rising in the ranks to become Moria’s second, something Miranda had fully encouraged. But thinking about it now, she wasn’t sure it was something she had actually wanted for herself.

“I know I don’t want to waste my life away--take anything for granted. I’d like to travel around a bit more, maybe learn another language or two. Pick up a few trade skills along the way.” Aurora finally spoke, staring straight at the interstate before them, lost in her thoughts concerning Fermin’s question. “When Miranda showed me what having a family could be like, I wanted to be a part of it, so I put all of my effort into being someone Moira and the pack could be proud of. Then it felt like a sense of duty to continue on surviving, Marisol and I. I’ve hardly had a minute to think of anything I want to do, it’s been more what do I need to do--not just for myself, but for Marisol too, you know?”

Fermin nodded solemnly, understanding that sometimes things happened in life, uprooting plans and families, and Aurora had learned to adapt to these circumstances. While details of their past were still unknown to him, he had learned enough to know that both Aurora and Marisol had suffered too much, too young--neither of them getting a chance to really live the lives they were owed. He had hoped that in the time they were staying with his pack, he’d be able to bring them light and joy--maybe even convince them to start a new family here in Florida. 

“But if you’re looking for ideas on how to get me to enjoy life, I have always wondered why people find Disneyworld greater than Disneyland.” Aurora interrupted his thoughts, her interjection delivered in a nonchalant manner, so as not to seem too eager.

“You know that place is a total tourist trap, right?” he asked.

“Doesn’t mean Marisol and I don’t want to go.” She retorted.

After some flirty banter, which consisted mostly of Aurora throwing ideas at Fermin for where he could take her, he finally took for his hand back as they started nearing their destination. Getting off US-98 and turning inland, Aurora sat up and kept an eye out for any signs that may enlighten her as to what their secret destination was. When she saw a sign saying they were about twenty miles away from the Apalachicola National Forest she began practically vibrating with excitement. Fermin knew he had made the right choice not to take her to Disneyworld this weekend. 

She had been unsure when Fermin said they were backpacking in, feeling weary about going off trail, and worried they might encounter something unfamiliar. She was glad she had trusted him though, they were a few miles from the campgrounds and marked trails, with access to a spring fed creek to go swimming in and an incredible view. After a nutritious dinner of roasted hotdogs, Aurora sat back, leaning against Fermin’s chest as they watched the campfire burn, taking in the beauty that surrounded them. Fermin had his arm around her waist, and Aurora traced her fingers along it, feeling a sense of calm and happiness creeping in--feelings she hadn’t experienced in over a year. 

“It’s starting to get dark,” She pointed out.

“So it is.” He answered, looking down at the woman in his arms and pulling her closer to him. Fermin didn’t think he’d ever been as happy as he was now with her-- just the two of them, close like this. Just three months ago Aurora and Marisol were walking into their territory asking for sanctuary, he had found her cunning and arrogant at first, but learned quickly that everything she did was out of love--to keep Marisol safe. 

He kept his distance at first, not wanting to bother them as they settled in and having too much fun watching all the young ones try to show one another up for just a hint of attention from either of them. He hadn’t known the entire time she had been watching him and soon found out that Aurora didn’t do subtle. He’d taken her dancing on their first date almost two months ago and hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her since, much to the clucking of all the Tías. 

“Think it’s safe now?” She asked.

“Absolutely.” He said, standing first to help her up. 

Another perk of being far from the rest of the campers was the ability to go for a run at full speed, not having to worry about being seen. Their eyes glowed, allowing them to see as they ran through the forest under the new moon. Fermin challenged her, running ahead, always keeping just out of reach. As they made their way back to camp, Aurora headed straight for the creek, shedding her outer layers of clothing and kicking off her shoes, she stepped into the cool spring water and wading her way up stream till she came to an area deep enough to submerge her body entirely. Fermin stood on the bank catching his breath as she stood up, the pool deep enough so she was still waist deep in the water.

“You gonna join me?” Aurora asked coyly. 

“I think the view might be better from here.” Fermin’s yellow eyes darkened and he watched her swaying slowly in the water, daring him to wander in. 

“If you don’t join me to wash off, you’ll find yourself sleeping outside-” She was cut off by the splash of Fermin jumping into the small pool with her, the water only coming up to his hips.

Aurora looked at him in surprise and had the brilliant idea to splash him back, starting a water fight which she instantly forfeited when he picked her up with the intent of dropping her in the water. She did a last minute maneuver, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and held on tightly. There was no way she was going to let him dunk her in the stream--she hated trying to sleep with wet hair. She clung onto him as he tried to wiggle his way out of her grip, finally succumbing to her when she began to trail soft kisses along his neck and jawline.

“What about you? What do you want to do with your life?” She asked in an effort to distract him further, but also genuinely wanting to know what dreams the man before her held. 

Fermin moved slowly to lower both of them into the water, keeping their heads above water. His first instinct was to say, you, but he knew better than to say something that might scare her off--after all two months was not a long enough time for a woman like Aurora to make a decision. “I’m a simple man...I want a good woman to share the rest of my life with, maybe a few kids down the road. Finally getting to order off the senior citizen menu at Denny’s. Oh and of course I wouldn’t mind getting discovered, having my paintings hang in a museum where a security guard has to tell someone to take a step back because they’re too close.”

Aurora settled herself on his lap, playing with the hairs along the back of his neck, “Oh of course, but how ever will you decide which museum will have the honor to proudly display your work? The LACMA? The Guggenheim? SFMOMA? PAMM? Or are you thinking internationally?” She giggled watching as the look on Fermin’s face changed to one of being done with her shit.  

“Your pretentiousness is showing.” He told her, shaking his head at her.

“There is only so much a ten year old can do on their own...museums became my escape when I was forced to join my parents in their business travels.” She shrugged, not wanting to explore that part of her past anymore than she had to. “I think we should get out before we prune.”

Fermin noticed her quick change in topic, but decided to let it go, instead agreeing with her and lifting her up with him, placing her down on the blanket in front of the smouldering embers that remained of their campfire before. He carefully stoked the dying fire, bringing it back to life and providing them with some heat to help dry off before they went to bed. The lowest temperature it ever dropped to in Florida was the early sixties, but Aurora still got goosebumps as she waited for her skin to dry off. Fermin took it as a sign to hold her close like he had before, pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head, laying his cheek against it as they listened to the fire crackle and sounds of the night. 

“Thank you.” Aurora whispered. The fire was burned down, and Aurora turned so she could face him easier and gave him a soft yet passionate kiss.

“I love you.” He said back, suddenly freezing as he realized the words that had escaped him. 

Aurora blinked, not sure she heard correctly. Turning to fully facing him, she felt her heart beating just as fast as his, and her breath caught in her lungs. Taking his face in her hands she shuffled closer and told him, “I love you too.”

Fermin grabbed her and stood up, lifting her up with him. Quickly stomping out and kicking the bucket of water onto the embers left from the fire he carried her to their tent and spent the next hour telling he loved her between each passionate kiss they shared. He reminded her of it with each kiss, feeling his happiness grow with each time she said it back, and feeling too excited to fall asleep, even as Aurora’s eyes grew heavy and closed. 

He sat away, thinking of what he was going to do. Their circumstances were drastically different, and that worried him. He had a feeling Aurora and Marisol’s journey had only really just begun and they still had questions that needed answering. And like Aurora, he too had responsibilities to his family and pack, and traveling as they had been, barely staying in one place for a few months wasn’t exactly a lifestyle that appealed to him. Yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand watching her leave. Two months, and already she had become his entire world, how was he going to be able to let her go? He shook his head in an effort to clear the thoughts from his mind and looked down at Aurora sleeping half on top of him--just like that, the thoughts had faded. She loved him and that was all he cared about in that moment--they could worry about the rest later. 

With that he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

If you would like to read the story from where these characters come from, Riddles of the Past, you can find it here. We update every Thursday!

[im-a-goner-foryou]

Mafia Boss! Tony ft. gun kink, aka a fucked up concept I think about a little too much:

Tw: gun violence, slight choking

.......................................................................

- Tony kneeling between his most prized possession's thighs, dark eyes pinned firm on the smattering of bruises and raised bites marks all over that once porcelain perfect skin only evidence of his undeniable claim. Being the leader of one of the most dangerous organised crime syndicates in New York is exhausting, after all, and Tony has to find ways to take the edge off-- the most efficient way, he realises, is by picking a weeping Peter underneath him apart piece by piece.

- Peter does cry so prettily when he's got Tony's favourite handgun buried inside him where it shouldn't be, but the weapon does fit so perfectly into that tight little hole of his; the contrast of cool unforgiving metal against that soft pink so tantalizing that Tony finds himself unable to look away, pushing the boy's trembling legs higher up his shoulder for a better view.

- "Mr. Stark," Peter whimpers, breath hitching high into a gasp as the ridged barrel of Tony's gun is shoved deeper inside him and stretching him apart just the right side of painful. "Daddy."

- "Yeah, you like that?" The Mafia Boss purrs down at him while giving a vicious twist of his his wrist; he doesn't give Peter the chance to answer, chuckles mirthlessly, "of course you do, look at the mess you've made all over yourself just from having a gun shoved up that hungry ass of yours."

- The boy doesn't even try to deny it; he nods, glossy mouth parting around a wordless cry at every nudge of the gun's muzzle against his sweet spot, back arching off the bed even with the calloused hand gripping his hipbone and pinning him in place. Rutting his own clothed erection into the curve of Peter's upper thigh, Tony leans forward to scrape his teeth over a quivering bare knee, drinking in the obscene squelching sounds of lube being fucked out of that puffy hole combined with the sinfully sweet noises squeezed from Peter's lungs.

- Driven wild by those little mewls, Tony drapes himself bodily over the other's fragile form to growl, "doesn't it scare you, bambolina? That fact that you don't know for sure whether daddy lied about his gun being empty." Closing his canines over the lobe of Peter's ear he croons almost sweetly, "I could kill you."

- Peter sobs against his neck, but the man shushes him, hand still moving non-stop as he continues defiling the boy, ruining him permanently for anyone else. 'Good', the feral part of Tony snarls possessively. 'He's mine.' Dragging his tongue rough and wet down the quivering length of Peter's bared throat to the dip of his collarbone, the Boss ruts his hips forward in tandem with the thrusting of his arm, and when his mouth closes around a dusty pink nipple Peter screams, legs kicking in the air and bound wrists straining against Tony's silk tie where they're tied above his head.

- "Careful now, we wouldn't want an accident to happen would we? One little flick of my thumb--" the man cocks his gun at this moment for emphasis, and the ominous click of it reverberates sharply through the room; grinning at the widening of those whiskey brown pupils. "--a little bit of pressure, and you'll be dead within a second." He taunts, predatory gaze greedily devouring the look of fear that now truly takes over that pretty face, twisting Peter's features with an edge of terror... and yet the boy doesn't stop bucking his hips back against the metal pounding into him, his desperation to be fucked winning out and Christ isn't that a thought.

- Knowing from the steadily increasing puddle of pre-come smearing sticky between their navels that Peter's drawing closer to the edge, Tony drags his gun slowly from the hole clenching down on it- the ridges along the metal stretching the puffy rim to its widest point- before shoving the entire barrel inside Peter once more, lunging forward to wrap a hand around the boy's throat at the same time.

- "Come for me, troia sudicia," Tony spits darkly, grip tightening with relish and effectively choking off the warbled wail from Peter's throat; the body writhing underneath his stiffens, then Peter's coming so hard ropes of sticky come land on his chin, catching even the older man by surprise.

- "Fuck, Peter," Tony groans, sitting back onto his haunches and hastily unzipping his own slacks to finally close a fist around his stiff, angry red cock-- and all it takes is a few pumps before he's coming with a guttural grunt, hips jerking forward to paint the boy's quivering thighs in cloudy white stripes, breaths falling harshly from his mouth.

- Peter simply whines, legs falling apart wider so Tony can see the handle of his handgun still between them; almost tenderly he pulls the weapon out, cooing at the soft cry that comes with it. "You did so good for me, sweetheart. Shh, it's all over now, my perfect little boy... daddy's going to take care of you now, dolcezza." Drawing a trembling Peter close into his arms, Tony feels his frustration finally begin to ebb away- and his steely heart melt ever so slightly- as the boy nuzzles into his chest. Sighing contentedly, he's about to close his eyes and drift off when suddenly the bedroom door slams open with loud bang.

- "Boss!" A panicked voice yells, and just like that Tony feels all his previous raw annoyance return. "There's just been bad news from Rogers..." The flustered man trails off immediately once noticing the position of the two on the bed, eyes widening even as he regrets his mistake.

- "How many times have I asked you idiots to knock?" Tony says coldly, tugging the blanket protectively up to further cover a shivering Peter and not bothering to hide his agitation. This is why he prefers to work alone, for fuck's sake. Still, it's only when the man's gaze falls onto his baby boy does the Mafia Boss decide that that's the last straw. Grabbing his discarded gun and aiming it in one swift move, the man doesn't even have the chance to beg before the sound of a gunshot rings through the air along with the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the floor.

- It's only when Peter screams does Tony finally tear his eyes from the rapid pooling of crimson red staining his carpet. Snapping out of his state he turns to look at the pale, tearful boy beside him, before realising his mistake at last. Oops.

- "Your gun!" Peter squeaks, looking as though he's about to faint. "It's really loaded--"

- "Well, cat's out of the bag," Tony shrugs, though cautiously watching the boy now with a hint of apprehension. "I would never have pressed the trigger though, sweetheart-- hey, what're you... oh." He says dumbly, for Peter's reaching forward to grab at the still smoking gun in his hand and bringing it to his mouth, red-bitten lips parting around the shiny metal to suckle around the barrel; Tony stares at the blatant display with an open mouth, brain blinking out as he watches the boy taste himself with eager licks of his tongue.

- "Holy shit," he breathes, rendered wordless with surprise. That's new.

- When the gun is finally squeaky clean, Peter pulls off with a sloppy almost indecent 'pop', cheeks flushed rosy pink and eyes blown wide from behind the fallen curls of his mussed hair-- still panting slightly as he says reverently, "thank you, daddy."

- And as Tony lunges forward and captures those pouty lips with his own to taste salty sweet musk and smoky gunpowder, his last rational thought is that he'll have to take such risks more often.