#maureen cummings

[danceblr]

When you show up to class unprepared to work, it's an insult. Not just to me. To your fellow students and to the school. Get out of my class.

[leofromsomewhere]

chat i just watched center stage for the first time and can someone explain to me why there is only one jody/maureen fic on all of ao3? they actually would have been so perfect for each other im actually going feral

update: one digging later, there are only 23 center stage works at all? chat, do we just not know about this movie?

[sageandscorpiongrass]

hii could you possibly do a web weaving about long distance relationships?? im struggling so much right now :<

oh long distance lovers, we're really in it now.

Distance makes the heart grow weary

Song Out Here, Juan Felipe Herrera | quote via l.m. | somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond, E. E. Cummings | Sharpie Drawings, laineylamonto | syntax, Maureen N. McLane | The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket | The Understudy, Hieu Minh Nguyen | Wind and Window Flower, Robert Frost | Pictures of Mountains, Cody Fry | PenOnFakePaper on etsy | Highway Heart, David Jones | 10 AM is When You Come to Me, Meg Day | @/messheartsuggestions | Everyone Adores You (at least I do), Matt Maltese | Galileo, Paul Tran

[image transcriptions and ID in alt text]

[therealslimshakespeare]

Am I Still Your Favorite Escape?

Gale & Maureen -requested? ✔️

As a new year and a new unrelenting malaise settles over the prisoners in camp, Maureen Kendeigh finds the journey from viewing Gale Cleven as her prize collector’s item to the man others suspect she loves most harrowing indeed.

Note: y’all wanted handjobs and I gave ya one, with a twist, and yall wanted more of what Maureen is thinking during this time and so you got it. Along with 6k of other dynamics and plot and feelings, buckle up 👐🏻

Warnings: 18+ smut, female fingering, some cum play, semi public sex acts (not trying to be exhibitionists, but the place is packed ok?) erectile disfunction, not the most supportive attitudes towards partners feeling out of sorts, BUT ALSO!! Please note the typical universe warnings apply with an addition in this chapter being a discussion about terminating a pregnancy, those discussing it disagree strongly and due to religious beliefs one refers to it as “murder”. No action is taken in this chapter. There are hints of Buck x Bucky in this one, although can anyone actually define for me wtf was going on!? Because by Buck x Bucky I just mean they’d die for each other and that’s stronger your average marriage and Bucky maybe should look away when his friend gets some midnight loving, lol.

Maureen had been enthused at the outset. Not that she cared that much for subversion, but she enjoyed the feeling of mischief that their new task carried with it. Camp had proven dull, worse in many ways than she had even expected. She had expected there to be work if not recreation, and while there was some, then the winter months came all too soon and nothing about their shelters or their clothing were suitable for sustaining outdoor productivity.

Which meant she -and the others, she supposed it was only right to admit the others were no better- she had been cooped up in here during a never ending snowstorm outside, watching Gale sand his little board in a room muggy with pungent sweat and stale breath. They were packed on top of each other in here and any attempt to get fresh air earned one a case of frostbite.

That bit of wood was going to become a radio, Gale had told her, and she believed him. With all her heart Maureen believed him. But there came a day when watching Gale fiddle with a safety pin stuck atop a board became unarguably boring. So much so she had begun to insist she be allowed to help Brady and Crank haul in the hot water and assist in what went for “cooking” in this place. Johnny didn’t let her near his precious concoctions after having ousted Benny from the same, but he did let her hand him bowls and generally act useful at mealtimes.

She kept him entertained with stories of picnics in exotic places, safari’s where they cooked out of the back of her father’s jeep. Brady had them eaten all his terse quips about her not knowing how to manage in straitened circumstances and instead asked her endlessly about rhinoceros habitats. It served to entertain her for awhile, too.

Bucky had recovered after a few weeks abed, his movements remained stilted and she could still carry more water than his ribs allowed -a point she made to him daily as he swatted at her from his bunk- but as he recovered he became preoccupied.

Ida had also recovered, though not as thoroughly, having gone well over a week without so much as drinking water in her insensible state. She was weak, feverish and upon at last being plied with nourishment, she puked it right up. It was little cause for concern considering her illness, but as she grew stronger and her stomach remained contrary, some unease began to grow. By Christmas her brother Johnny had taken over the cooking in an endeavor to make something palatable but the woman was hardly the sort to be picky over her victuals. Benny and Brady’s watery soups were alike and they both came up within fifteen minutes of being eaten.

So then, their little room smelled of sweat, breath and vomit. Her brother and Hambone made mention of Crosby, it provided levity for a few days and Maureen was fast to join in. Until Ida had her at a private moment, the men in the hall or else out with latrine duty, and then she asked Maureen if she’d had her menses.

Offended at the implication that Gale Cleven would allow her any more than a mouth or handful of himself, Maureen hotly insisted she had. Three of them in fact, since arriving. She had the bloody rags to prove it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when there began to be a very segregated group of men hovering and debating amongst themselves that Maureen began to second guess such an inquiry as more than moralistic judgment. Their Red Cross packages arrived with canned goods and bland crackers. Bucky began to bargain for the latter with a gambler's gusto -before inevitably handing his loot to Ida. Ida herself began gambling fiercely, for smokes.

Ida had never smoked in her life.

And now the place smelled even stronger of one more cigarette, sweat, breath and vomit.

The smokes seemed to help her, or at least, Maureen noticed her puking less by New Years. The early part of the new year brought new misfortunes, the confiscation of Cleven’s prized radio and a rash of miscarriages amongst the women. A rash was perhaps an exaggeration -only three or four, by Maureen’s count, and between her’s and Ida’s and Cleven’s discreet insistence, such incidents were passed off to the wary guards as heavy menses.

Maureen realized then that those were pregnancies from their guards, a possibility that she had not considered as she had not had reason to worry about it. That is, until Ida Brady caught her again at a moment alone, and asked her in the closest thing to feminine fluster that Maureen had ever seen her in, if she’d ever had reason “in your expeditions, as it were…” to possibly “eliminate a -poor decision?”

Being quite puzzled by this inquiry, and only picking up on the vague aspects -something she admitted to Ida straight away- Maureen admitted she drank most of her poor decisions away, a strategy that hadn’t failed her yet and she wished was at her disposal in this frozen mud pit.

“I’m speaking of- romantic decisions. Poor ones.” Ida had tried again, yearning for understanding in her voice.

Maureen remained nonplussed.

“A child, Maureen a-a pregnancy have you ever?” Ida hissed out at last.

“Gosh no.” Maureen sputtered, “I’m not a full idiot. Why would you ask? I strike you as enough of a harlot?”

“I’m merely looking for -remedies.” Ida pinched at her nose, a motion Maureen was familiar with watching in Gale when he was overwhelmed.

“Who needs it?” Maureen scoffed, quite sure that the odds didn’t stand many more girls suffering from the same, the poor food and rough conditions having ensured it for them.

Ida took her hand away but closed her eyes, mouth folding to a straight line. “I do.”

“Oh fuck.” Maureen plopped down beside her on the bunk in disbelief, they both stared at the opposite wall and its identical beds with rumpled bedding and starlets pasted on the walls. “Fuck.”

“They’re getting very stupid about it.” Ida said at last.

“What do you mean? Who?”

“The boys.”

“You’ve told the boys?” Maureen cried out, infuriated.

“They guessed, already, for God’s sake must even this be about you, too, Kendeigh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“It means while you’re bored and very vocal of it, some of us might die-“

“-we could all die in this shithole-“

“-or! Or worse,” Ida cut in fiercely, “have someone die for us by being idiots. Bucky is full of schemes of -of running off into the sunset. I suppose after he levitates us over the barbed wire with his magic carpet. I don’t know, but I- Maureen I know that if I go on much longer, it won’t just be me in danger. They’re either going to risk something terrible or get punished for not reporting me.”

“So what?” Maureen asked dully, having been excluded from an obvious inner circle regarding the issue and having now been accused of being trivial in her own sufferings, it smarted and she could not deny the flicker of unfairness she felt over it. “Want me to shove a coat hanger up you? The others too chicken?”

Ida visibly recoiled beside her, putting more space between them in the bunk. “I’m not going to- to kill it.”

“What kinda remedy doesn’t?” Maureen sassed, if they were to talk no longer in flippant pleasantries, she could do that.

“I’m just asking for help.” Ida’s jaw wobbled, her voice a wreck of desperation and Maureen could see with a small and ugly bit of satisfaction that the woman was truly close to losing her grip. It was satisfyingly human. As was her reaction to a remedy after asking for it.

“You come to me because you think I’m loose enough to know, and then you have the nerve to be appalled when I do.” Maureen pointed out, “That what all the smokes are for?”

“Yes.” Ida put her head back in her hands.

“Just won’t budge; huh?”

“No.” her voice sounded like she might be crying but there was no telling with those hands in the way.

“It would be stubborn.” Maureen muttured, thinking of the goddamn Brady family as she knew them. “Why won’t you get rid of it? You want to get rid of it-“

“-I don’t understand why it’s hanging on!” Ida’s wail came out garbled between her fingers.

“So let’s -unhang it.”

“I can’t. Kendeigh -I can’t.”

“I know it’s risky, but I know you’re not scared of dying.” Maureen muttered, attempting to understand.

“Candy I cant, I can’t murder it.” her voice had dipped into a sacrosanct whisper.

Maureen huffed in confusion, a substantial amount of pragmatism warring with what tiny bit of sympathy the threat left her, “It’s a German’s, at this size no more than a blo-“

“It’s a life!” Ida snarled back at her so viciously Maureen contemplated the likelihood of her having gone fully mad, “And it’s mine.” she rebutted, pointing to her chest fiercely.

“So you’ll let Bucky and Gale die for you, die trying to get you out of here but you won’t try to fix it yourself.” It was how Maureen saw it, and if she were to be accused of suggesting murder, she might as well have her side put out there, too.

“That’s how you see it?” Ida muttured, looking utterly defeated.

“If Gale dies over this, I’ll wring your neck myself. Keep smoking.” she advised with a shrug, “Maybe catch an elbow to the gut if you can.”

Ida pulled her hand away again to look at her, she’d definitely been crying then, red nosed and watery eyed, but she looked less aghast now than she had at the mention of the coat hanger. Maureen didn’t think she wanted condolences about it, or a pat on the back. Come to think of it, Ida was getting plenty of that sort of doting from the boys. No, Maureen didn’t feel like she needed that from her, and something sour and twisted in her heart made her loath to give it.

It worsened as the days went by, as Maureen observed their once innocuous routines with new eyes, noticing the boys' furtive plans, their hovering concern, their brought in provisions -offerings fit for a queen. It was understandable to show such care for her in her state, and ostensibly no one deserved it more than Ida Brady. But it left Maureen feeling adrift, like an afterthought, someone whose greatest challenge was their boredom. And ever looming were those great risks the boys bantered about like it were all a low stakes game of cards.

She plays thirty to forty sets of cards with Hambone, decimates Benny at chess, cleans the pans, even mops the goddamn floor. All to keep busy, perhaps even to spite Ida whose one assigned task is the floors. She cannot be accused of boredom or idleness if she has done all her own tasks and others’ besides.

In her spare time she would like to go with Bucky, to be of use in collecting things for Gale’s new little project, his precious crystal radio, but where women go -there go guards and attention and soon, the sheer mischief of the naughtiness of Gale’s construction wanes as she is left laying in her bunk watching him wiggle a clothespin around for the fifth day in a row. She had been so understanding for the first four. Even though she had contemplated a tiff with him over not informing her of Ida’s state as soon as he knew, she had been merciful and instead settled for holding the copper wire for him and brushing his cheek when he didn’t actively shy away in concentration.

He mumbles about needing to give it his full attention, about her needing to keep a lookout, about the danger of getting caught. She asks if it’s worth it then, anything that might get him killed is her enemy, even if it’s a little clothespin on a board. He looks at her like she’s from mars, unable to fathom why she wouldn’t understand its necessity. And he doesn’t come to bed until an ungodly hour of the night and immediately, upon settling in their bunk he is asleep, much to her chagrin.

She would have liked a kiss, a hand between her legs even more. She would have settled for those whispering little chats they’ve indulged in ever since Bucky laid atop Ida and all rules were broken -they’ve shared a bunk and as the winter gets worse, no one bats an eye. In fact, everyone’s stacked two for one, male and female alike. Brady and Hambone snicker and whisper in their bunk every bit as much as she and Gale do, Maureen is sure of it.

Instead Gale falls asleep. And he does it again and again, night after night. Bucky rummages on his own for supplies. Brady frets over Ida. Only so many people can play makeshift bat gammon in the hall. It does not pass the time. And Maureen grows ever more restless.

She feels expectantly happy when Gale’s work is finally complete, his finished product constructed and the moment of truth comes. They crowd around and wait with baited breath as his finger tunes it. And Maureen knows she is fully awful for her relieved feelings when it does not work. He can’t be killed for it if he scraps it. And he will come to bed at a reasonable hour now it is useless. The shake of his hand makes everyone else feel helpless in the face of his ever steady composure cracking, but while Maureen has no acceptable remedy for Ida’s plight, she does for Gale’s, and she waits for darkness with the relieved excitement of a child on Christmas Eve.

Gale does indeed come to bed, the radio not fully scrapped but heartily abandoned and hidden with its various parts in sundry places. And when he slips beside her, his nose is cold and he touches her like he has missed her. He pulls the covers to their chins, tucking them in with a small giggle, she is suffocated by it and yet he persists and this has gone on all winter until now it is their inside joke and he does it just to make her laugh, and when she laughs so does he, a honest little giggle of a thing, and she misses him worse than ever even as he pressed along the length of her.

It isn’t safe yet, not everyone is asleep but she bides her time with kissing him and he returns her caresses ardently, a thorough press of his lips and his tongue unreservedly sliding into place alongside her own, his hands warming up as they clasp her neck, turning her head upon their pillow. She wonders if they are loud even at this, but she was never the one to care, it’s Gale who objects and who hushes them, who makes them wait, who insists on being courteous even in hell, who only allows himself to lap at her when the place is abandoned or else full of the atmospheric noises of masculine snores.

Maureen does not mind waiting for him, or rather -she does, but he is implacable about it and when she attempts to persuade him otherwise she is oftentimes swatted and put in her place like a wayward child. Such correction holds a charm of its own when it is Gale Cleven administering it, but tonight she feels close to madness if she does not get her way so she allows him to kiss her as the quiet and steady breaths around them herald the unconsciousness of their brethren. She grows bolder, throws her leg over his hip and tugs at his buttons, hands rucking up his shirt and parting the heavy flaps of his coat. He is as burdened with layers as a Victorian maiden and Maureen enjoys the hunt for warm skin, the way he looks as ravished and expectant as any girl while she gropes at him, when she finally reaches him he always shudders, a full bodied thing that jerks even his neck.

Tonight she parts his layers feverishly and he mutters her name, again and again and his hands are clumsy at her shoulders and no progress is made on discarding her own clothing but she pays it no mind, she is direly hungry for him. Any touch of him, to make him shake and melt and pay tribute to her.

“Maureen.”

She finds the button of his trousers right at his heaving naval and she exults at the feel of the fine trail of hair beneath her fingertips.

“Maureen.” his voice grows urgent and she doesn’t heed it, he counts on her never heeding it.

She wiggles her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and skims the hairy plane of his pelvis before laying her hand on what she needs and -he is as limp as a dead mouse. She holds the chubby thing for a good long moment, very much like it were some useless rodent she had caught and must now dispose of, and she is filled with confusion.

“Maureen-“ he mutters again against her unmoving lips and she realizes with misery she mistook his pleading for a different sort.

It is not that she’s never felt him soft, on the contrary, there was a long time in the early days -when she wanted him and he wanted a promotion- that her hand would find its way between his legs, in a jeep or a bar, beneath the table while he helped her with her calculus. Once she felt him she became mildly obsessed, he was always tucked to the right and he was so substantially long and full beneath her palming, even in repose, that her determination to have him was only further cemented by it. Again and again her hand made it into his lap and again and again he would rebuff her, sometimes with startled propriety, occasionally with long suffering disbelief, more and more with almost parental disapproval.

Each reaction had been as satisfying to Maureen as if he were swelling into her palm. And soon enough, he was doing that, too. His hand growing a beat too slow before he grabbed her wrist, his mouth still twisted in dry reproof but his eyes began to burn. He was unbothered no longer and it was not much longer after that he was not even resistant.

Ever since, she could count on him to perk, to respond, to validate her own want of him with his own for her.

The fact it was in many ways a tortured surrender on his part only drove her madder, made her desire burn brighter, made the succumbing of the good, the right, the proud man all the more intoxicating. And again, as if they’d never shared all that, he was now as warm and floppy as a dead dormouse.

“Maureen.” he begged, half expecting tears again like her first night in the stalag, wincing as her hand squeezed him meanly, jerked at him a few impotent times in an effort to fluff him.

Her hand withdraws and he holds his breath, ready for a scene or a rebuke. His gut twists miserably, at fault twice over and yet -not really. But that never mattered with Maureen. He says her name again but she is still and deflated, and after a moment, she merley rolls over, giving him her back.

That is how he knows she is hurt, were she angry she would not have shrunk from being crueler than a few angry tugs. The silence is new and it makes Gale’s stomach swoop in an odd terror, like his next decision might rescue them both or plunge them off a cliff.

“Maureen.” He tries again, his hand on her shoulder, squeezing and trying to turn her back.

Her shoulder jolts up sharply to displace the gesture. “I’m not cold.” she informs him as she rolls further away towards the wall, and her tone is icier than the weather outside. He’s stunned, she’s never once ignored him, no it’s always ever been an escalation of her demands for his interest. Hell, even in Africa she had said she was cold and the presence of her head on his shoulder disrupted his tan, he got no end of grief from the boys about it.

Confused and mildly hurt himself, although he doesn’t know why, not beyond some tickling sense of unfairness about being blamed for being a bit out of sorts in the place, Gale takes his hand away and moves to lie on his back, to keep from crowding her. He thinks that in the morning he will explain to her how he is preoccupied with the radio, that his gut feels in constant free fall from the plans to escape, that everyone is riding on him for this thing to work and he just proved tonight he’s perfectly worthless at it. Nothing but buzz in his ear echoes around in his head and he replays the sound of that failure again and again, justifying her frustration with him. He thinks he’ll explain this all to her in the morning. And also-

-that he is cold.

He’s so damn cold from the anxiety and being still at his work at the table for so long his hands and legs go numb that he simply cannot imagine feeling bothered at this moment, cannot imagine it and it would seem that neither can the little guy. He doesn’t deserve a reward, not for fucking up at the one thing they’ve got going for them. He catches Bucky’s eyes when he rolls over, having taken up night shift over Ida due to insomniatic tendencies. He wonders strongly if Bucky would be as disappointed in him, if he is already. Just wait until next morning, Gale thinks, when I get to admit I’ve got no second plan. If it doesn’t work as is, no amount of fiddling is gonna make it better.

That settles heavy in his gut but does nothing for the swooping feeling, there is merely a loadstone in his belly, plunging downward in a perpetual free fall, and in his dreams the accompanying soundtrack is radio static.

There is a tiny sliver of freedom in the morning -and it does not come every morning- when Maureen has noticed there is still and quiet yet the morning routines are in place. Lazy and weak, the prisoners do not rise with the sun, although some stir and moan and try to meet the new day head on. The guards unlock the doors and yet many choose to lay abed. So many in fact that Johnny Brady ceased making breakfast at that hour as with so few ready to eat it, the ordeal became a waste. He does often fetch water for morning pit baths and teeth brushing, the occasional splash on the face to wash off the sleep.

Maureen has often contemplated these little slivers of time as a chance to break free. Not of the compound, that endeavor holds no fascination to her, but rather out of this combine and out from under the watchful eyes of people who know her all too well. Or think they do. They don’t, they very obviously don’t. And she’s losing all sense of who she is to be known by as the days go on.

She listens as Johnny gathers the buckets and milk pails, always gentle with the clanking metal, vestiges of the considerate boy his mama raised still clinging even in this place, and he hands an allotment to Hambone who is awake with him and less considerate.

Then there is the hushed flurry of beratings and the sleepy protests of trying one’s best.

They leave together, and they leave the door adjar as usual, to come back in quietly if needed. They’ll be gone for at least fifteen minutes, then they will come back and then Brady will leave again to run his two goddamn laps around the compound while that testicular looking bald headed doctor clocks his pace. Maureen doesn’t think Johnny likes running track or ever did it before, but he and Ida both took it up, the latter probably to get rid of the child and the former maybe to stay warm. The doctor didn’t care about the timing of Ida’s laps and soon she began to grow too large to risk attention by keeping Johnny company.

Now Johnny runs his timed laps alone and the only motivation Maureen can imagine for it, beyond the over-familiar assessment of his limbs by the doctor, is the chocolate he earns from it. Priceless sugar to keep up his specimen’s strength in this starving place.

Chocolate Johnny regularly gives to Ida. Though for Christmas he made them all a mashed chocolate pie on a tin plate and it had honestly been the kindest and loveliest Yuletide treat anyone had ever given any of them.

Maureen has considered running with him, trying her luck and seeing if she can win chocolate herself. Maybe that would make Gale smile. She doubts the doctor would care, he’s curiously uncaring regarding the existence of females in camp.

Maureen knows all these sounds of morning routine by heart, can track the progress of each stage of the routine while feigning sleep, motionlessly facing the wall.

Gale has no need to feign, it would seem. He is not snoring but he is whimpering and muttering in that annoying way of his that only occurs when he’s in deep. She used to think it cute, she now thinks it helpful to judge if he is able to catch her at her scheme.

-useless fucker with his useless radio and his useless cock, making her feel useless-

Careful as a cat, and with as much grace, Maureen rolls herself upright, and uses the slats of their upper bunk to balance her weight, keeping the mattress from giving a tell-tale dip. She swings from one slat to the next, carefully crouching when the movement jars the whole frame but Benny stays asleep below her and Gale makes no move to arrest her. It’s a feat to drop soundlessly to her feet after such a climb in a full overcoat, but she manages it. Her boots are under Benny’s bunk and she fetches them with no small amount of terror, but despite his shifts and erratic movements, he does not catch her.

She takes the boots into the hall, which is gratefully empty, and fastens them there. Taking her woolen cap from her coat pocket, she puts it atop her head while tucking in her hair, and fastens her scarf high over her nose, and knows that she is about as inconspicuous in form and feature as the next man. When Brady is bundled similarly his eyes appear as gentle as a woman’s and Maureen knows her own are no longer half so beguiling, not with their pale lashes and absence of cosmetic relief.

Perhaps she’s grown so wane and bland Gale has even lost the ability to pretend attraction. He always was fastidious about cleanliness and order, fussy and volatile when she took him unawares. In fact, when she had first managed to get so far as to undo his pants, to fondle his half hard length, to pull him from the slit of his drawers, to tug his shaft to orgasm, it had been beside the antiseptics. And that had some sort of parable in it, she thought now. Recalling how she’d had to talk him down off a panic as soon as he had shuddered and given her the sought after reward, hot and sticky and plentiful as only a virgin’s would be. He was not comforted until gauze and betadine was used copiously to clean her hand, and the nurse was later puzzled as to why when she entered only one had needed treatment, but both left stained with the orange stuff.

Back then a word, a flick of her eyes would have Gale in full pursuit, bodily if not mentally. She could wage a war with his ever so impeccable spirit and win it with the help of his own flesh. Now? Now he couldn’t even respond, not even pretend it. And he’d tried to warn her and she’d thought he’d been begging and she realized he wanted to stall her, keep it from her, one more thing.

These thoughts carried her dozens of rows down, combine after combine, lost in a flurry of snowflakes that were turning gradually pink as the sun rose. It was beautiful here before all the footprints ruined it.

At the far end of the sector, outside the last combine before the fence that separated them from the Brits, Maureen spotted a huddle of men gathered around a fire pit. She hadn’t known those were even allowed, not doubting that its proximity to the fence had some other subversive reason beyond warmth, and if she thought it then the guards must have. Yet here it was alright, jugs hung over it from a makeshift spit and crackers impaled and being toasted on the same. Maureen’s mouth watered, as much at the thought of genuinely smoke flavored food as she did at the heat. She was still undecided as to her course of action when a loud guffaw, followed by a familiar and harsh curse made her startle.

Polish airmen -or, at least by way of America. They would be sat out in the cold at dawn and they would toast their crackers. Maureen had frequently used her brief passes from Thorpe to terrorize other officer clubs, finding the joy of it a great distraction and some of the girls had joined her at it. She was usually greeted in such escapades with shock or even disgust but the men’s flailing helplessness in the face of a female serviceman always served as a full quota of contentment.

No one had terrorized her back as good as she gave until the Poles. And then they had bought her a drink, and lamented with her that she had not become a fighter pilot. Because Maureen still held a flame for the small craft, resentful that her decent piloting had been considered too poor for the clunky birds, for she knew she wasn't all bad, it was merely those awful forts and their terrible bulk. The Poles had agreed and bought her another drink, and tried to seduce her to their squadron. That had been a happy night and she’d come back to barracks so late as to break curfew, and chatted Gale’s ear off in drunken joy about her wonderful time and her new friends.

Maureen now eyed the fire in the snow and the group of foreign speaking men around it and tugged off her cap, allowing her hair free. And she sauntered up with calculated aimlessness, as if she were indeed only checking out their s’mores to ridicule them compared to her combine’s delicacies. It was effective, they defended their crackers vehemently and she remained derisive, this called for a demand that she try them and so she did and admitted they weren’t too bad but were too dry to be gotten down her throat. So they then passed her coffee and she had to squat to receive it and then she was given a seat to finish it and before long, she was one of the huddle and her feint at leaving them was argued against so heartily she knew she’d won, and so she stayed and played cards and told stories and drank hot water with boys who had been born over here but were in many cases educated not far from her house. And when afternoon came and went she stayed, and when evening fell and the guards became stricter with the perimeter and their fire, she snuck in with them into their combine and there played drinking games despite the violation of curfew.

For the Poles had liquor in this hell hole. And that, Maureen thought, was the true measure of a great nation, their capacity for ingenuity and irrepressible spirits.

Gale entered his own combine in the falling dark with the persistent press of a gun barrel at his lower back, right about at the kidneys, he figured. It was the only thing possible to persuade him to keep from looking, and the others were filing in right ahead of him, saving him a bullet their only motivation for abandoning the search. The guards locked the door after them, and Gale’s chest heaved in panic at the thought of her out there somewhere and locked out and him locked in.

“Fuckin’ Kendeigh.” Murph grumbled but without any heat,

taking himself to his barracks.

Bucky kept pacing up and down the hall with his hands in his hair, snapping at anyone who dared clog his promenade. “Jerries said it was time for bed -so get in your goddamn beds!”

“Why would she do this?” Gale begged him again and Bucky huffed again at it, furious for him.

“She give you grief last night?” Bucky asked wisely, the loyalty in his voice soothes Gale, as does the structure of his sentence, it suggested it wasn’t his fault. And Gale wanted to believe that and he just as strongly he knew it was wrong of him.

He had been in the wrong and he didn’t deserve Bucky’s sympathy for this or the damn radio. They’d been talking of repairs every spare minute of this day that hadn’t been taken up with trying to find Maureen. And while Bucky could remain as adamant as he wanted, that it wasn’t his fault that his radio didn’t work -it didn’t change the fact that his failure now meant Bucky was gonna try something awful instead, like climbing the fence with a pregnant woman on his shoulders. And it was all because Gale couldn’t fucking make a connection. Just as he couldn’t connect to his own body for Maureen and now she’d probably gone over the fence too, or got shot trying.

“So fuckin’ unless.” He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and mashed the tears away.

“She call ya that?” Egan barked, and Gale didn’t need to see his frown to know he was about to track down Kendeigh to punch her, not rescue her.

“No, don’t need a dame to tell me what’s what.”

He didn’t see it coming so he was reasonably startled when he found his hands dislodged from his eyes and his face suddenly collided into the weave of a musky sweater, Bucky’s hand gripping the nape of his neck like he were a child. That hand was so damn large Gale could imagine he was young again and his father was holding him. “Somethin’s gonna come to you,” this reassuring rumble was light years away from his father’s belittlements and he shuddered, “I’ll get you new wire or somethin’ but just- ain’t your fault, Buck, and that goddamn parakeet needs snow down her pants if she can’t see it too.”

No one pretended to sleep that night, even once the lights were out. Ida sat up in her bunk with her brother beside her, a telling lack of sympathy being expressed for Maureen’s self inflicted plight. Ida had spent her own time at the radio and while it hadn’t done much good, it had gone some way to reassure Gale she didn’t see anything amiss. It ought to work.

Small talk was kept carefully low in the bunks, and Bucky kept a firm position on Gale’s bunk, sitting upright with his legs slung over his friend’s boney knees, affectionately trapping him in a lying posture. Bucky had taken to entrapments here in camp, perhaps the barbed wire inspired him.

They had already given Benny his fair share of chiding for not going out with Maureen that the morning, although Brady’s report of her absence in the time he had fetched water plainly represented someone not wishing for accompaniment -or, as Brady so helpfully reminded of the obvious, her desire to obey Cleven’s long standing order on the matter.

It was probably close to 0100 when a great commotion sounded outside, followed by a crash bang of the combine’s main doors being thrown wide and the rhythmic tread of jackboots had everyone pouring out of their bunks and standing at the ready, -they weren’t sure for what, but it wasn’t something you wanted to be caught lying down for. Gale wrenched open the door, expectancy already perfectly in place on his face until he caught sight of Kendeigh, hauled like a child between the guards and one of their captains met his eye with unimpressed disdain.

“This we found in wrong sector.” he explained, gesticulating to Maureen with a gloved hand, “Sleeping under combine steps. I have told you, Major, I cannot guarantee safety of your females when they are alone, something happen to them, you blame me but I told you! Cannot guarantee.”

“Understood.” Cleven gave him his soberest nod, feeling ill and angry and watching warily for the next move, wondering when he could get his lost package back, yet not wanting to appear eager.

“Discipline, major, discipline!” The Captain insisted and Gale felt Bucky’s heat searing at his back as he pressed forward, taking the German’s eyes away from Gale’s, preventing something rash.

“Oh believe me, sir,” Bucky drawled as he pressed forward, the guards posture confidant and lax, “discipline will be met.” he took the brave step of gripping Kendeigh’s coat flap in his hand and tugging her forward, a movement that yanked her free of the gaurds’s grip.

“Met?” the officer was confused, anger and annoyance tinged his repetition.

Bucky shook Maureen meanly by her coat in emphasis of his statement, “Discipline!” he agreed, insistent.

“Well?” It appeared the officer intended to wait until it was meted out.

Bucky stalled and Gale caught Maureen’s panicked eyes even as her nose flared rebelliously with measured breaths, trying to get on top of it all. Gale felt himself pushed to the side abruptly, having to catch himself on the door as Ida Brady strode past him into the hall, the book she’d been perusing still clutched in her hand.

“Child.” she muttered loudly for the officer’s benefit before raising her book and striking Mauree square across the face, one cheek and then the other as the blow sent her staggering, sharp thwacks with the flat side of the volume.

Maureen took the reproof with good grace and a stunned whimper, Bucky’s still supportive clutch on her jacket keeping her from making a fully pathetic scene and melting to the floor.

“Go, in, get in bed.” Ida snapped her fingers, pointing to the door and when Maureen took a second too long to collect her spotted vision, Ida raised the book again and Maureen needed no more incentive, knowing if Ida did not deliver it the guards would.

She tumbled over the barracks threshold like a bedraggled orphan, hair snow drenched and cheeks throbbing, her jacket muddy and undone.

“Well done.” Johnny Brady greeted with montone venom and only Benny Demarco’s well placed foot tripped her and prevented her from clawing his face off in long suppressed spite.

She landed inelegantly on her face, elbows bent just enough to catch herself from a truly ugly splat, she was gathering herself for another spring when the troop of her officers sounded and the door closed and quiet fell over the place, lethal and accusing.

So the Germans had let her off easy then. Maureen drug herself up to her knees and suddenly wished she hadn’t, it felt too close to contrition.

She staggered upright, ignoring the indignity of having to push up on Brady’s knee to do so. Once on her own two feet she raked muddy fingers through her hair and smiled at her superiors, tired but dandy. They looked pissed and that was to be expected.

“The hell did you go?” The others seemed to acknowledge Gale had some right -or maybe it was responsibility- to address her first and it was leveled at her even more scathingly than she had braced for.

“For fresh air.” she chimed, leaning against a bunk brace, arms crossed easily.

“Sleepin’ out? Sneakin’ out?” Gale stormed on and Ida actually took pains to bypass him and climb into her own bunk, her merciful discipline administered she seemed to wash her hands of the business, “Flagrantly disobeying my expressed orders! Answer me! The hell were you thinking?”

“I wanted to get out,” she leveled back at him, her smirk grown sharp and practiced and debutant-worthy, “I wanted to be somewhere else besides in this stinking, miserable cabin with its miserable, stinking occupants. Nothing but a bunch of self righteous, maniacally focused dreamers who can’t have fun for shit.”

As soon as she said it, no regret came, only a feeling of utter validation. Indeed, what had changed since she had been gone? Ida was still sick and pregnant, Johnny was still fussy, Benny was still playing at cards, Bucky was still pushing Gale harder than any over the radio and her Cleven was cleaving to the damn thing like it were his god.

“I mean, tell me if I missed something essential!” She scoffed, “Some great development occur? Or was I needed for some great task you all missed me so desperately during? No? Didn’t think so. Because we don’t go anything in here except talk about getting out like it’s actually plausible and I’m sick as fuck of it and I-“ she pointed to herself, voice growing in volume as Gale’s own fury seemed to wane into something shocked and scared, “I have spent my day with men who have ingenuity and good humor and liquor, because they aren’t hopeless fucks like us. The Brit’s have a tunnel started, the Polish have one too along with a bathtub of potato peel vodka, and we have a pregnant colonel! Sto lat!”

It was terribly quiet for a moment, half the cabin's occupants intent on appearing discrete and the other half stunned into a sort of mortified offense.

“You gonna thrash her or am I?” Egan finally broke the tension, his head turning lazily to look at Gale, his mouth was grinning like he was eager and it made Maureen’s bruised cheeks flame. It seemed to be some private joke, Maureen could only tell by the way Cleven’s eyes widened in warning protest at his friend before biting his lip and sniffing harshly. Then the lights cut again and the place was plunged in darkness, it brought Maureen both relief at the obscurity and a strange feeling of terror at the pitch black surroundings. She still hated the dark, ever since those Gestapo cells.

“Take that filthy shit off and get in your bunk.” Gale’s voice so near and so sudden startled her, and it wasn’t rebellion that made her lag in response but he seemed to take it that way, the snap of his finger seeming dangerously close to her nose, and she felt his fingers pluck at her muddy coat, “Now, don’t test me, get in, now.”

She peeled it off and let it flop heavily to the floor before kicking off her boots with the same carelessness, and then taking a step up, digging her frozen toes into Benny’s mattress and hauling herself up to the next level, laying down with a shiver in the cold sheets. The quiet sounds of rustling and bedding filled the place, the others putting themselves away for the night too, but to her relief no one seemed to be murmuring about her. Then the bunk creaked again and the unmistakable feel of someone climbing in beside her made her gasp.

Gale, of course it was Gale, laid himself out atop her, like he planned to keep her there by his weight alone like Bucky had with Ida, and an odd feeling suddenly took possession of Maureen’s chest, one she hadn’t felt all day: she felt undeserving. His head was hard and awkward against her clavicle but she didn’t want to budge him, secretly and utterly grateful he was being kind, that he was not ignoring her. Maybe Ida was right and she was childish but if that were the case, what was to be done about it? She was as she was and she needed him, so tentatively after a few minutes, she withdrew her legs out from under his own and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him close all along her like they were mating, she meant it as a hug and she felt him limp and heavy between her thighs but she did not withdraw.

Gale waited patiently until the snores began, wind whistling outside so loudly it would cover their whispers, and she shuddered to think of herself being petty enough to try to sleep in that icebox. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” he rasped at last, raising his head a little and trying to get a read on her in the semi dark. “Maureen, you can’t worry me like that, please.”

“I’m tired.” her voice was weak from the effort to hold back an ugly sob.

“You've been tired before.” he soothed, “What about today? What about last night? What’s all this? C’mon, you can tell me, I need ya to tell me.”

Maureen sighed raggedly, always a sucker for his cajoling voice, more so when she knew she deserved and expected the thrashing. “You don’t need me that way. You don’t need me at all.”

Gale dropped his head a little, his hand reaching up to pinch his nose, humiliation and impotence warring with need to assure her. “I'm sorry about that.” he settled for, “I’m too fucked right now, I admit it. It’s all just, it’s a lot, we’ve all got a lot goin’ on. You too, I know, I’m just not right up there, Maureen. Doesn’t mean I don’t need you.”

“You don’t need me during the day and you don’t need me at night.” she had tried to dissuade herself of this painful reality, truly! -but those were the facts as she saw them and it hurt her worse than him.

“I’m doing this for you!” he begged, his large hand cupping the side of her throat and she would love to think it a caress but he was only trying to make a point, one she contested vehemently in her heart. “I won’t be okay until you’re safe, baby.”

Maureen scoffed, thick and bitter, she had no child, she had no threat, she didn’t need to get out. “I don’t have any reason to get out!” She seethed back, “What’s in it for me? Besides you dead and me too, maybe I’ll get sent back to the Gestapo. That’ll be lark. I don’t need to get out, Major, I need-“

Gale was panting in her face, hot and hurried as her own ire rose with each word, “What do you need?” he goaded, and she could hear him lick his lips.

“I need you to pay attention to me.” she said it.

And to anyone else it would have sounded the most petty thing of all, but to Gale Cleven it was something he already knew deep down when he wasn’t so caught up in the imminent might-be’s of their situation, when he wasn’t needing to save Bucky from himself, or Ida from being put down or Johnny from whatever Greek hell that doctor had enlisted him in. He knew Maureen needed him, not his brains or what he could give, not really, she just wanted his flesh, and he had never bartered in that currency before her, having always assumed it was cheap if not with love. He was not sure he was loved but he knew it was not cheap, whatever it was they shared. And he knew she needed him. Just as he needed her, even though he could not manifest it as he wished.

He could kiss her, though. That he could do.

She did not expect the plush press of his lips when she saw him duck his head against the halo of window light. He kisses with intent and with reproof and the part of her that enjoys his anger begins to thrum to life as mercy and justice both battle in his kiss, his tongue all forgiveness and his teeth implacable rightness.

“Why?” she whines at him, feeling herself need and yet he lays between her legs useless as a girl, “why’re you when you can’t-“ she has insulted him enough today, she trails off with surprising tact.

“Don’t mean I don’t need you.” his voice has gone gruff like it does when he holds her head firmly and grinds his once hard cock down her throat, “Don’t mean your boy don’t want you.”

And that’s all she needed, really.

Along with the feeling of his fingertips walking down her bare stomach, his hand somehow sneaking its way through her layers undetected until now. It awakes a trail of fire down to her core, her core that is already ablaze by his kissing, his neglect, his language.

“My baby.” she moans in ascent, loudly and exultant and a little mournful.

“I gotchue, I got you.” he swears into her mouth and his hand wastes no time in slithering between her legs, elegant fingers cupping her and smearing her arousal around beneath his fingertips.

“Fuck them into me.” she begs, his hand swiping and rubbing at her heat until her hole clenches in desperation, wanting the burn of a stretch.

He is used to her instructions, they’d have accomplished nothing these last months without them, he is able to obey without ceding one bit of control in the kiss and the dichotomy of it, of him, makes her spiral as long fingers plunge, three at a time into her like he’s mad at her, and she cums from it alone with a hoarse cry of shock. He leans up and over her, hair aglow in the dim light and his hand beginning to slam again and again between her legs, forearm hard at work before he brings his wrist to her mouth.

“Bite.” he tells her, an offer and an order and she does, repaying him the vicious assault below her waist where she is tugged apart and jammed at with all too much finesse, his thumb swiping at the apex of her slit everytime he plunges knuckle deep. Gale knows by now the signs of her peak but he pushes beyond it, adds his pinky until all four digits wreak havoc and makes her go again. She uses his wrist out of necessity not to wake the whole place. The sounds of her squelching may have done it for her.

He pets her after, his palm warmed up by his work and it cups and soothes her as she jerks and jolts and settles, and his nose nuzzles her own sweetly, murmuring her name again and again just how she likes it.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” he begs between smooches and Maureen feels entirely too weak to deny him.

“Ok.”

“Promise?” his tone and his hand grow firm again.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” he sighs beside her and she thinks she could fall asleep now he’s wrung her out. He pets her a few moments longer, as if loathe to pull his hand free. He cups her one more time, collecting her wetness in the crook of his fingers before at last he does, carefully bringing his hand up and out of her waistband. He holds it in front of himself for a brief moment as if debating how to enact his thoughts, and she watches him curiously because he does not lick his digits clean like usual, perhaps she is too soiled tonight, even for his devotion.

Instead she watches him roll onto his back, hand still aloft and glittery with an obscene amount of sticky pleasure and his other hand trails to his own fly, popping the button deftly with his left hand and tugging down the fastening. Her breath catches in her throat, suspense and arousal at the familiar motion making her perk once more. Gale shimmies his clothing down his thighs until she can see him just barely, lying fat and peaceful against his thigh. He deserves a little peace, she thinks, now that she is not so cross with him.

She holds his gaze in startled suspense as he locks eyes with her, wanting her to stare when he moves his wet hand down and wraps it around himself, smearing her juices all over his soft member, clear and creamy swirls rubbed into the pink meat of him, down to his very balls.

“There,” he manages between her kisses as she assails him anew with desperate appreciation, “you’ve still got me. I’m still yours.”

She drags her hand down there to feel the sticky evidence of his promise, to rub and fondle him as he lays dormant in her palm. She has often snickered to him that he is too tidy to ever fully have sex, he has had qualms over even what they do with their hands, their mouths as well. He was pleased she could swallow only for the mess it prevented. She’s often told him he’ll find coupling a filthy business and he oughta brace himself. This tacky feeling under her palm is the closest they’ve ever gotten to the act, her fluids touching him there, drying on him. She appreciates the gesture, more than here heart can bear to ponder: she also knows he’ll regret it.

“I’ve got some amends to make.” she acknowledges after giving him one last kiss and checking that the coast is clear. Egan is doubtless still awake as usual and perhaps Brady, but it can’t be helped and she doesn’t give a damn. “Try to be quiet -don’t think too hard on it, it’s fine if this is all it is.” she preemptively cautions before he can realize what she intends.

She slinks down the length of him, careful not to jar the whole bunk, careful to keep a low profile to the blankets before dipping her head in the little nest of covers shoved around his thighs. Despite her assurances Gale makes a keening noise of confusion when her tongue darts out without preamble and licks up the seam of his balls.

“Maureen.” he sounds half strangled but his hand flies out, not to prevent her, but to pet her lustrous hair. She feels utterly content in that moment and continues her quest to tidy him up.

“You hate being sticky.” she reminds in a whisper before gently sucking on his soft tip, she can feel his belly heaving in relaxed sighs, the connection not fully alive and yet, potent all the same, he pets her hair more firmly and even pushes her head down further and she gets the hint, abandoning his soft cock head for the chubby vein beneath, licking stripes of herself off him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” she whispers to the inanimate little thing, remembering how meanly she squeezed it the night before. “I swear we’re still friends.”

Gale vaguely registers her apology to his bits and bobs but he is genuinely more distracted by two glinting shards across the room that have to be Bucky’s blazing eyes. Trained right on him. Holy hell, he feels himself shake and the closest thing to a twitch animates between his legs before he throws his hand over his eyes and pretends he is very alone. He pets her head more purposefully, long, feminine strands slipping through his fingers.

John Egan once put a bet on how long it would take these idiots to learn they were in love. It was once all a bit funny. And now, seeing in a dim haze what appears to be the ritual of making up, it’s not so funny any more. Today could have gone far worse, any attention to the women was bad attention and having Ida have to make a scene while hiding a belly like that was nearly criminal in Bucky’s mind.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t glad for Gale. No, he was so glad he was half jealous watching, imagining more than even seeing. He wondered if Maureen knew how much she loved him, he wondered how it compared to his own, and he ached like hell.

Next morning Gale woke up with a sore spot on his chest from the weight of her head lying there all night, and to the tinkering sounds of the metal water jugs being jostled. There was a laugh and a responding “shh” and another stifled laugh following. He rolled his head on the pillow and blearily cracked an eye open, taking in Brady and Maureen over their task. Or at least, Johnny was trying while fighting some whispered bit of comedy that Maureen continued despite Johnny’s wheezing protests and incompetent fumbling with his handles.

“You ain’t bein’ quiet, if ya think you are.” Benny’s grumble from the bunk below said what Gale was thinking, but he was too relieved to see Maureen awake, cheerful and integrated again to complain.

“I’m telling him about a Romanian girl in the other sector, met her yesterday.” Maureen stage whispered and Brady began to lose it again, muffling his whole face into his sleeve, milk pail abandoned on the floor so he could laugh. “There’s a fence between and she’s a fighter pilot but she’s seen him at his laps and she wants him.”

Benny stayed quiet a minute before his own laugh started and Gale could feel the vibrations of it from a whole bunk below. “She put in an order or somethin’?”

“Practically.” Maureen drawled, “She was so relieved to meet an American so arrangements can be made for my fellow. She has cows back home Johnny, she’d trade ten for you. Those big Eastern European cows, straight from a storybook, it’s worth consideration.”

“Grab your jug.” Johnny insisted instead in a small wheeze as he collected his own and strode out, looking behind to ensure she was following and beginning to laugh at eye contact. Maureen threw her head back and guffawed that ugly little cackle of hers as she went out.

“I think we missed part of the first act.” Benny observed about the joke from below, Gale didn’t know what talent it was but his co-pilot always seemed to sense when he was awake, no checking needed.

“Yup.” Gale puffed into his pillow, not giving a damn about the content of her material only that some material was back.

Someone else who was shit at playing asleep was John Egan. Gale slunk out of his bed quietly to not awake everyone else and went over to the sprawled out form of his friend, Ida tucked behind his back and the wall, genuinely asleep despite the nicotine she had coursing through her. Gale reached out and flicked at an overgrown curl dangling over his friend's face, the return momentum of it tickled his nose and he sneezed on compulsion.

“Sleep well?” Gale asked as Bucky stared up at him, betrayed and crinkly faced.

“Was.” he accused.

“Talk?” Buck proposed in a monosyllable and he watched Egan’s raw morning eyes shutter closed into something as readable as millponds.

“Yeah, sure.” There was a series of grunts and heaves of effort as Bucky righted himself and finally pushed out of the bunk, “Hall?” he asked while contemplating just how little he wanted to don boots right now.

“Hall’s fine.”

They went out together, it was quiet in the hall despite the awakening rustle in the various rooms off it. It stayed quiet once they’d both taken a wall to lean against because Gale Cleven wasn’t good at broaching topics despite his bravery to initiate their surroundings. Egan had a sense what this was about, but then, things usually weren’t about the thing they were about, they were about another thing reflected in the thing and that’s where he got lost. But watching Gale Cleven take in a breath five times only to exhale and chew his lip got a little tedious, even by his standards for how much he enjoyed watching his Buck at anything.

If this was about being observed last night, Egan sure as fuck wasn’t gonna take the blame for seeing shit in a packed dormitory. Or, combine, barracks, whatever. So, a sentence like -sorry I watched you get licked at like a bowl of milk last night- didn’t reflect his sentiments at all. And he’d never lied to Buck, not once, except maybe about not social engineering his way onto planes during rough missions. So instead he went with an easy going, “Must be nice to almost get everyone killed then get rewarded for it.”

Gale’s eyes sharpened instantly but the harsh retort Egan panted for didn’t come, instead something tired took over and Gale pinched his nose. “We’re all goin’ a little looney in here.”

“Are we?” Bucky hummed combatively, “How you crackin’ up these days?” it wasn't fair his Buck had all this weight on him and a fussy woman besides.

“I’m havin’ an affair with a fellow officer.” Gale recited in a devastated montone, and Egan hadn’t expected such transparency. Not in criminal language.

“Well,” he ceded, “there is that.”

“And occurrences like last night are gonna need to keep happenin.” Gale was informing him and Bucky didn’t know what to do with that, his tone was that of an officer but his soft blue eyes flicked with a plea to be understood. “To keep her -tame. Some sorta sane. She’s like you, she wasn’t meant for this place.”

“Just last week you told me nobody was.” Egan pointed out just to be contrary but he couldn’t help his grin and Buck caught sight of it before he could suppress it, knowing the banter and its innate kinship was back.

“I need you to promise me somethin’.” Gale went on, a nervous hand rubbing at the back of his neck and Bucky perked at the sight of that tick.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to promise to wait a week before you try anythin’.” Gale said, “You said I’d come up with somethin’ and I will, but I need a week Bucky. Give me that, can’t let you leave here without any direction of where to head toward. Wait on that radio, don’t you go off gettin’ yourself shot and Ida, too.”

A week in this place felt like a year, a week with an ever swelling woman felt like an eternity of valuable, crucial time. Bucky ran his bare toes over the splintering wood and tried to focus on the way the wood shards pricked at his frozen toes. “Alright.” he agreed, couldn’t help himself when Buck was looking at him like that and telling him he didn’t want him to die. “Alright.” He repeated more forcefully just to see Gale’s face clear and some old expression of peaceful relief smooth out his worry lines, not as much as Maureen’s tongue could do, Bucky wagered, but it was a little relief of his own he could give. “But you make a poor incentive for obeying you.” he pointed out cheekily, shoving off his wall to advance on Gale and shove a finger in those still full cheeks, “You gonna reward me if I disobey an’climb over on day six?”

Gale rolled his eyes, an expression all too pretty with his cheek distorted by Egan’s rough fingers, his eyes wary and loving all at once, Bucky had missed that look, it was coy as hell and one of his favorites on his friend. “Don’t count on it.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[haikkun]

Share My Gum

I cry

Like you cum

Spilling down our knuckles

Licked from both our thumbs

And the rivulets’ reflexive

Desire to meld together

Has me wondering less

How you could smell

The spearmint

Across the phone

And more

Why we cannot

Share the suffering

Like we shared

The joy

________________________

Maureen Armstrong @haikkun

[skinomyteethh]

to be or not to be?

pairing; kelly nickels x fem! reader

summary; thoughout kelly's newfound fame as bassist of L.A guns he had been acting different though you weren't sure if it was due to the restless nights they'd spend preforming or another aspect

contains/warnings; mentions of cheating. oral (female receiving). fingering. teasing. slight cum eating? little to no dialogue. may contain spelling errors :(

authors note; I need kelly nickels' magic stick in my mouth. also it deleted the damn ask so </3 anyways I hope y'all enjoy reading this!!!

cheating in the eighties or seventies rockstar scene was not at all unusual or taboo, it was extremely difficult to find a rockstar who hadn't cheated on their spouse. hell, robert plant not only had his wife maureen he also had a tour wife and a multitude of other groupies alongside him. these stories seemed to absolutely terrify [name], the thought of her boyfriend cheating on her while on tour was extremely stomach churning.

she sat on the sofa of their shared apartment, staring at the television emotionlessly and in deep thought until a phone call disrupted her thinking. a soft sigh parted her lips as she stood up and turned off the television, walking over to the phone in the kitchen, answering it.

"hello, this is [name]." she stated rather blandly, hearing the stumming of a guitar and clashing of cymbals as well as loud laughter. "hey babe, it's me, I just wanted to check up on you." his voice was somewhat raspy, it signaled that he had continued his excessive smoking habits. this whole rock 'n' roll scene seemed to be fueled off of addictions.

[name] hummed, maintaining her hold of the phone against her ear as she laid against the wall, fooling around with the coiled cord of the telephone before finally responding. "i've been alright, how about you? are you enjoying the tour?" her tone seemed curious yet curiosity was far from what she was feeling, she had her suspicions.

a short moment of silence came upon them, though it was shortly broken by the sound of Kelly chuckling. "it's been hectic, but i'm glad you're doing alright. we're heading back to Los Angeles later today!" just as she was about to respond she heard another voice, it was the voice of another female, she sounded extremely flirtatious and seemed to have a stupid valley girl accent.

"babe, sorry for cutting the conversation short but I have to go." he remarked, letting out a small laugh before hanging up. [name] stood still for a minute, the phone still in her hand, that whole predicament was strange, unsettling even. perhaps now Kelly was apart of the bunch of idiot rockstars who cheated on their partners/spouses.

she sauntered back to the sofa, turning the television back on. overwhelming thoughts began to fill her head as she leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes. what if Kelly had been cheating on her during these past months? what if he had been cheating on her prior to those months? those thoughts filled her head as she slowly drifted to sleep.

at around mid-day the loud, almost uncanny creaking of the front door both opening and shutting startled [name] out of her sleep. she sat up, feeling slightly dazed, not fully awake. her eyes glanced back as she heard the rather heavy bass guitar case drop onto the floor. Kelly hummed placing a soft, quick kiss on her forehead, taking a seat next to her.

upon feeling his lips against her forehead all thoughts prior to his arrival began swarming back, causing her mood to sour. he noticed her sudden and rather drastic mood change, wondering what on earth could have caused it. "did you have fun with her?" her question caught Kelly off guard, what could've caused her to think he was with another woman, despite what others may think he was a loyal, committed man with no desire for anybody but [name].

"what are you talking about?" he queried, raising an eyebrow in confusion. [name] responded with a scoff, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "you think i'm stupid? I heard that girl Kelly." flashbacks seem to hit him like a wave crashing onto the shore. the girl whose voice she had heard was tracii's new groupie girlfriend, he would never and could never cheat on [name].

"that was tracii's girl." [name] rolled her eyes, her expression was tainted with judgement, she still thought he was lying. Kelly sighed, closing his eyes. he was somewhat irritated at her accusations, out of all the people in this horrid world Kelly thought [name], his girlfriend of however many years would know he would never even think of doing something like cheating.

and he was going to prove it.

Kelly was going to make her realize he still loved her. she was slightly by his abrupt actions as he somewhat roughly threw her onto their bed, haphazardly taking his clothing off. his eyes trailed down to her white lace panties, he trailed down and slotted his hand in between her thighs, tugging at the waistband of her panties with his pearly white teeth.

a soft, desperate whine escaped her lips as he tugged them down. he hadn't bothered taking them off of her completely, they were low enough for him to engulf in her pretty little cunt. his warm tongue began to eat her out rather messily, his chin was dripping wet with her arousal as he slightly nudged his nose against her clit, licking up and down her folds as if she were to be his last meal ever.

her hands roughly tugged at the roots of her jet black hair, moaning out random praises as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Kelly circled his tongue around her clit painfully slow, [name] glanced down at him, absolutely breathless, finally muttering a coherent sentence. "babe, please.."

desperation and neediness were clear in her tone as she quietly spoke. he hummed, bringing his pointer and middle fingers up to her lips. [name] shakily opened her mouth, enveloping his fingers in the warm of her mouth, coating them in her saliva so he could prep her and finally give her what she desired the most. after a minute or two he pulled his fingers out of her mouth, bringing them down to her entrance, inserting his pointer finger, then his middle finger.

[name] bit her bottom lip roughly, gripping the cool, white sheets below her as he slowly and rather gently fingered her. soon enough, one of her hands wrapped itself around his wrist, maintaining his fingers in place as she eagerly fucked herself against them like an absolute whore. Kelly simply watched her in amusement, placing soft, teasing kisses on her inner thighs.

her movements eventually became sloppier, less desperate and calculated, it signaled that she was getting extremely close to reaching the edge. he simply removed her hand from his wrist, pulling his fingers out of her. at that moment she seemed to despise the feeling of emptiness in her, whining as she took off his underwear.

Kelly desperately slotted his dick between her wet folds, the head bumping against her clit as he moved his hips back and forth, up and down. her arms reached up, and wrapped themselves around his neck, desperately holding onto him, loving the feeling. he halted his movements shortly after, grabbing the base of his dick, breathing heavily while he lined himself up with her hole, reaching his hand down, slapping her cunt before inserting himself into her slowly.

he moved his hips closer to her, watching as her soaking cunt absolutely devoured every inch of his cock. Kelly sighed euphorically as he finally inserted himself completely into her, bottoming out. [name] began to crave him even more than before, slowly moving her hips against him, his hands gripped onto her hips tightly, stopping her movements as he began to roughly thrust in and out of her.

each time their hips met her body felt an overwhelming wave of pleasure, her tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrust. Kelly leaned down, pressing his chest to her back, placing soft kiss on the back of her neck as she moaned breathlessly. he reached his hand under her, groping one of her tits, adding even more pleasure into the mix.

every thrust, every groan, every touch drew her closer and closer to her orgasm. her moans began to grow louder and her body became somewhat limp as she finally reached her high, cumming all over his cock. "that's a good girl.." he mumbled, continuing to thrust into her, overstimulating her sensitive cunt.

his hip movements became sloppier by the second until he finally spilled his load deep inside her. slowly and shakily he pulled out, once again slotting his head in between her thighs, spreading her folds open with his fingers, pushing whatever mixture of their cum spilled out back into her.

finally, Kelly sat up, laying his head against the headboard, breathing heavily. "I hope that showed you how much I absolutely love you and how I would never cheat on you hun." he mumbled, bringing her closer to him. [name] let out a breathless chuckle, laying her head down on his abdomen, glancing up at him.

"it definitely proved something like that."

[scotianostra]

Birthday Scottish actress Siobhan Redmond, born in Glasgow on August 27th 1959.

Please note wiki give her d.o.b as July 27th, but two other sources say August.

Redmond was educated at Park School for Girls in Glasgow’s West End. She then studied English at St Andrews University, it is here she started acting in student productions and is said to have been discovered by oor Makar Liz Lochhead. She went on to complete a one-year postgraduate year at the Bristol Old Vic.

Siobhan might not be a household name, but she has some pretty impressive credentials to her portfolio, her first roles were in comedy shows, the most famous being Alfresco in 1983/84 alongside an impressive line up that included, Robbie Coltrane, Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie, Emma Thompson and Ben Elton, as seen in the first photo.

She went on to become a regular character in the 80’s series Bulman, as Lucy McGinty. Perhaps her biggest TV role was in the 90’s cop show Between the Lines as Det. Sgt. Maureen Connell, after this she appeared with Alan Cummings in the underrated sitcom The High Life, a link to another post today, in 1997 we saw her onscreen with Billy Connolly in an adaptation of Deacon Brodie!

Redmond took on a role in the Hospital-soap type series Holby City as consultant paediatrician and clinical lead of Otter Ward, Janice Taylor. Since then Siobhan seems to have reverted to playing the role of a cop again, in The Bill, crime scene examiner Lorna Hart in 14 episodes in 2007 and in Taggart in 2010 she was Chief Supt Karen Campbell in 6 episodes. Redmond has also provided the voice of Ollie in the popular bairns animated show Nina and the Neurons. More up to date shows include, Queens of Mystery, Amazon Prime series Dark Sense and the Excellent mini series Unforgotten. We last saw Siobhan last year in The Nest and Grantchester, while she returned to Queens of Mystery this year, which also starred the excellent Julie Graham. Prior to that, there was a BBC Scotland comedy pilot, Beep, which aired earlier this year, and the opening episode of the latest series of Midsomer Murders, one of the first shows to return to filming last summer.

Siobhan Redmond has also been very busy treading the boards, as a regular member of the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford-upon-Avon, playing among others Beatrice in “Much Ado About Nothing"a nd in a play called ‘The Trick is to Keep Breathing’ which debuted at The Tron Theatre Glasgow, before touring all over the country and in Canada. She also starred in "Look Back in Anger” that followed a world tour in 1990 with Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson.

Siobhan recently appeared in the omedy-drama series Rain Dogs , she also turnedup in the sitcom Two Doors Down, whicha new series is in production just now.

[lboogie1906]

Lieutenant Charles LeRoy Gittens (August 31, 1928 – July 27, 2011) was a Secret Service agent. He joined the Secret Service in 1956, becoming the agency’s first African American agent.

He was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts as one of his family’s seven children. His father was a contractor who had immigrated to the US from Barbados. He left his high school before graduation to enlist in the Army. He was promoted to lieutenant in the Army and was stationed in Japan during the Korean War. He earned his GED while serving in the Army. He completed the four-year academic program in three years and graduated magna cum laude with a BA in English and Spanish from North Carolina. He was bilingual.

He taught at a school in North Carolina for one year. He was encouraged to take the civil service exam, which resulted in his recruitment into the Secret Service. He began his career at the agency’s office in Charlotte. He then became an investigator at the Secret Service’s field office in New York City, where he served for ten years. He was assigned to a “special detail” Secret Service unit, which investigated bank fraud and counterfeiting. He was transferred to the Secret Service’s field office in Puerto Rico, where he guarded New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller during his 1969 trip to the Caribbean and Latin America.

He was promoted to the head of the Secret Service’s field office in DC in 1971. He retired from the agency in 1979.

He then joined the Department of Justice, where he led investigations of Nazi war criminals who were residing in the US at the Department’s Office of Special Investigations.

His first wife, Ruthie, with whom he had one daughter, died in 1991. He and his second wife, Maureen, divorced. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #alphaphialpha

[singeratlarge]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to singer-songwriter Kip Allert, Louis Armstrong, the 1995 movie BABE, Richard Belzer, The Billboard Hot 100 (1958), Moya Brennan [Máire Ní Bhraonáin], Terri Lyne Carrington, Dick Cummings, Herb Ellis, Frankie Ford, Václav Matyáš Gurecký, Brett S. Harrison, Elsbeary Hobbs (The Drifters), Ben Holland, Joey Huffman (Soul Asylum), Larry Knechtel, Kishore Kumar, Harry Lauder, Kenny Malone, Max Middleton, Ricky Nelson’s 1960 “Poor Little Fool” single, Cliff Nobles, Barack Obama, Jessie Owens’s Olympic leap (1936), Pink Floyd’s 1967 PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN album, Elvis Presley’s 1956 “Hound Dog” single, Prince’s 1984 PURPLE RAIN album, David Raksin, Paul Reynolds (A Flock of Seagulls), Klaus Schulze, Maureen Starkey, Mark Stock, Billy Bob Thornton (good to have met you), Timi Yuro, and my friend, a songwriter and great gospel singer Monette Newsuan. In the late 90s/early 00s we performed together frequently and recorded a flurry of projects, including her phenomenal solo album DON’T LET A DAY GO BY. She also appeared on my recordings as well as on recordings with Don Hess, The Word2Soul Project, and Davy Jones (Monkees)—who said Monette was one of his favorite singers. There are many Monette recordings I could share—she’s featured prominently on Davy Jones’s take of “When All Else Fails” https://johnnyjblairsingeratlarge.bandcamp.com/track/when-all-else-fails  ...Meanwhile, HB MN and God bless your ministry and lifting up your voice!

#monette #newsuan #birthday #johnfarnham #davyjones #monkees #johnnyjblair

[oldisnewradio]

Spend Christmas Eve with me. It's Our Annual All Holiday Broadcast Tonight at 10PM Everything Old Is New Again Radio Show on WBAI 99.5 FM New York Some of the singers that will be part of the mix: Donna Summer, Billy Porter, Marcus Simeone, Stephanie J. Block, Louis Armstrong & The Commanders, Uptown Vocal Jazz Quartet, Steve Lawrence & Eydie Gorme, Johnny Mathis, Maureen McGovern & Jay Leonhart, Eartha Kitt, Kristine Zbornik & Jason Robert Brown, Randy Rainbow with Kathy Griffin & Alan Cumming, Bryan Eng, Julie Benko, Seth MacFarlane & Liz Gillies, Bing Crosby, Nancy LaMott, Josie Falbo, Liz Larsen & Sal Viviano, Ray Charles & Betty Carter, Jonathan Karrant, Jennifer Roberts, Frank Sinatra, Billy Eckstine, Alix Korey, Scott Coulter & Lisa Asher, Lillias White, Nat King Cole, Judy Garland, Dan Blocker & Lorne Greene!

[alexlacquemanne]

Février MMXXIII

Films

Danger : Diabolik ! (Diabolik) (1968) de Mario Bava avec John Phillip Law, Marisa Mell, Michel Piccoli, Claudio Gora, Terry-Thomas et Adolfo Celi

L'Horloger de Saint-Paul (1974) de Bertrand Tavernier avec Philippe Noiret, Jean Rochefort, Jacques Denis, Yves Afonso, Julien Bertheau et Jacques Hilling

Les Grandes Familles (1958) de Denys de La Patellière avec Jean Gabin, Jean Desailly, Pierre Brasseur, Bernard Blier, Françoise Christophe, Annie Ducaux et Louis Seigner

Les Ambitieux (The Carpetbaggers) (1964) de Edward Dmytryk avec George Peppard, Carroll Baker, Alan Ladd, Bob Cummings, Martha Hyer et Elizabeth Ashley

Bathing Beauty (1944) de George Sidney avec Red Skelton, Esther Williams, Basil Rathbone, Bill Goodwin, Jean Porter, Nana Bryant, Carlos Ramírez et Ethel Smith

Que les gros salaires lèvent le doigt ! (1982) de Denys Granier-Deferre avec Jean Poiret, Michel Piccoli, Daniel Auteuil, François Perrot, Tchéky Karyo, Nadia Barentin, François Lalande, Florence Pernel, Jeanne Lallemand et Marie Laforet

Pain, Amour et Fantaisie (Pane, amore e fantasia) (1953) de Luigi Comencini avec Vittorio De Sica, Gina Lollobrigida, Marisa Merlini, Virgilio Riento, Tina Pica et Maria-Pia Casilio

Les Ripoux (1984) de Claude Zidi avec Philippe Noiret, Thierry Lhermitte, Régine, Grace de Capitani, Julien Guiomar, Albert Simono et Claude Brosset

Scoop (2006) de Woody Allen avec Scarlett Johansson, Hugh Jackman, Woody Allen, Ian McShane, Romola Garai et Julian Glover

Sous le signe de Monte-Cristo (1968) d'André Hunebelle avec Paul Barge, Claude Jade, Anny Duperey, Pierre Brasseur, Michel Auclair, Raymond Pellegrin et Paul Le Person

Une femme sous influence (A Woman Under the Influence) (1974) de John Cassavetes avec Gena Rowlands, Peter falk, Fred Draper, Lady Rowlands, Katherine Cassavetes, Matthew Laborteaux et Matthew Cassel

L'Enquête corse (2004) d'Alain Berberian avec Christian Clavier, Jean Reno, Caterina Murino, Didier Flamand, Juliette Poissonnier, Pierre Salasca, Éric Fraticelli et Alain Maratrat

Didier (1997) d'Alain Chabat avec Jean-Pierre Bacri, Alain Chabat, Isabelle Gélinas, Lionel Abelanski, Michel Bompoil, Jean-Marie Frin, Zinedine Soualem et Elliot

Les Aventuriers de l'arche perdue (Raiders of the Lost Ark) (1981) de Steven Spielberg avec Harrison Ford, Karen Allen, Paul Freeman, Ronald Lacey, John Rhys-Davies, Denholm Elliott, Alfred Molina et Wolf Kahler

M. Hobbs prend des vacances (Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation) (1962) de Henry Koster avec James Stewart, Maureen O'Hara, Fabian, John Saxon, Marie Wilson et Reginald Gardiner

Mr. & Mrs. Smith (1941) d'Alfred Hitchcock avec Carole Lombard, Robert Montgomery, Gene Raymond, Jack Carson, Philip Merivale et Lucile Watson

Ulysse (Ulisse) (1954) de Mario Camerinia avec Kirk Douglas, Silvana Mangano, Anthony Quinn, Rossana Podestà, Jacques Dumesnil, Sylvie et Daniel Ivernel

Séries

Inspecteur Barnaby Saison 4, 5

Le Jardin de la mort - L'ange destructeur - Vendetta - Qui a tué Cock Robin ? - Sombre automne - Le Fruit du péché - Un village très coté - Le Ver dans le fruit - Les Sonneries de la mort - Meurtre dans un collège anglais

L'agence tous risques Saison 1, 2

Détournement - Le candidat - Un si jolie petite ville - Immigration clandestine - Poussière de diamants - Otages à l'orphelinat - Les mustangs : première partie - Les mustangs : deuxième partie - Histoire d'eau - Pression amicale - Le pain quotidien - La pêche miraculeuse - Agitateurs - Acier - La guerre des taxis - Le Scorpion du désert - Tirez sur le Cheik - Eclipse - Les marchands de poison - Dites-le avec du plomb - La vache maltaise - Pas si facile que ça

Affaires sensibles

10 mai 1981 : l’arrivée de la gauche au pouvoir - Ali contre Foreman : choc des titans à Kinshasa - Le 6 février 1973. L'incendie du collège Pailleron - Sharon Tate : l’Ange et le Démon - Voici l’histoire de Hurricane - Harlem, 21 février 1965 : Malcolm X est mort

Friends Saison 5, 6

Celui qui embrassait - Celui qui a des triplés - Celui qui accepte l'inacceptable - Celui qui rate son week-end - Celui qui a du mal à se taire - Celui qui emménage - Celui qui avait des souvenirs difficiles à avaler - Celui qui s'était fait piquer son sandwich - Celui qui avait une sœur un peu spéciale - Celui qui prenait de bonnes résolutions - Celui qui riait différemment - Celui qui avait un sac - Celui qui découvre tout - Celui qui prenait des coups - Celui qui enviait ses amis - Celui qui ne savait pas se repérer - Celui qui se sacrifiait - Celui qui ne savait pas flirter - Celui qui sauvait des vies - Celui qui jouait à la balle - Celui qui devait casser la baraque - Celui qui était à Las Vegas : 1re partie - Celui qui était à Las Vegas : 2e partie - Ceux qui revenaient de Las Vegas - Celui qui console Rachel - Celui qui était de mauvaise foi - Celui qui perdait sa belle assurance - Celui qui avait une belle bagnole - Ceux qui passaient leur dernière nuit

Coffre à Catch

#101 : Une belle petite pause dans un torrent de merde ! - #102 : Hornswoggle, Evan Bourne : le renouveau à la ECW ! - #103 : WWE Draft : la fin du Mercato d'été à la ECW ! - #104 : CM Punk et Mark Henry champions du monde !

Top Gear Saison 18, 17, 19

Spécial Journée Circuit - Made in China - Une course comme sur un green - La Vallée de la Mort - Une Lamborghini à la mer - Les pires voitures de l'histoire - Spécial Afrique : Première partie - Spécial Afrique : Deuxième partie - 1500 km à fond de 5ème

Spectacles

Un Chalet à Gstaad (2021) de Josiane Balasko avec Josiane Balasko, Armelle, Philippe Uchan, Stéphan Wojtowicz, Justine Le Pottier et George Aguilar

Livres

Friends, mes amours et cette chose terrible de Matthew Perry

Undertaker : Rise Of The Deadman de Rodrigo Lorenzo, Edu Menna, Serg Acuna et Chad Dundas

La renaissance des héros Marvel, Tome 7 : Phénix de Greg Pak, Greg Land et Kirkham

Catch : L'âge d'or, 1920-1975, l'épopée du catch français et les "Michel-Ange" du ring de Christian-Louis Eclimont

[therealslimshakespeare]

Two questions haha! Post-war, what kind of domestic things lead to spicy things for Gale and Maureen? And the same goes for Ida and Rosie later on?

Oooh excellent ask, one I need to give more thought to and write on but for now here’s basic what comes to mind -I’d love to hear y’all’s thoughts.

Gale x Maureen: nothing really changes in the fact that Maureen remains proud as hell of her little golden overachiever but also miffed at the sheer amount of time his important jobs and higher studies require of him, the way he gets into a whole mood about them and brings it home inadvertently. She certainly has more patience for it by now as they’ve come to an understanding, he’s working on disentangling and leaving it at the office and on her part she throws fewer tantrums over it and merely declare: her need for his attention.

Which he’s always willing to give. Sometimes his engine is not revved as hot as hers and it takes a minute to play catch up, but he’s there for her in every way he can, a dynamic they solidified in camp. Often when she knows hes genuinely too busy to make time, she simply crawls under his desk, bounces in his lap and tells him carry on, while she gets her fix.

Spankings, I’m afraid. She wasn’t so sure she liked them all that much but she could feel how despite the first few being non sexual in nature, they made Gale hard, and that aroused her in its own way. He’s got a very specific way he makes love to her after such discipline, it’s very slow but hard with a great deal of reaffirming eye contract which makes her cum like a girl possessed, his whole attitude being like he’s pinning his newly tamed prey down after not just the attack but then the devouring.

This couple is about power plays for sure, but mostly nice ones. And Maureen does most of the initiating although this man cannot restrain himself when she’s on the water. Boating or kayaking or what have you, his mouth runs dry watching her enjoy herself so much in her little swimsuits and he’ll act on his feelings with a rash publicity utterly unlike his usual self.

Rosie and Ida? Ooh, so many things, and a lot of them very domestic, mild, not at all a blatant wooing. He’s done the damn dishes, she’s found and archived a case he was about to have a panic attack over losing, they won a case, they did something mildly risky (they’re both closeted adrenaline junkies), they aced their Christmas shopping list, they smoked everyone in snow skiing -you know what all these mild things lead to?

Celebratory or grateful kisses, and no one, absolutely no one kisses like the Rosenthal’s. It would get you heated just running into them in the hall going at it, much less if you were engaged in it as one of them.

They don’t eat each other’s faces off, or not always, they’re the best at sensual kisses that make you realize you have no fucking clue that the mouth could caress so much. And they hold each other’s faces and she tugs at his hair and he often kneads her shoulders while at it which turns this rather stiff spined woman into goo.

Phone sex is huge for them,… ok maybe not full phone sex all the time but good Lord, the foreplay of an average call between them! Started with their courtship and now it’s gotten so blazing and so specifically coded, nothing better be in their way between them and the bedroom when one or the other gets home.

[rogerdavis90]

“So would I. I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with for something like that. I would love to be able to meet more trans men and women as well to expand my group of friends. My friends are amazing advocates and parts of the community especially Collins, Angel and Maureen. So i would love the opportunity to expand my knowledge it would also be good content for film if i continued to work on some of my own projects. I’m considering doing some digging on how well someone does financially as a photographer for trans adult magazines.” He said looking at him he liked the idea of not only getting farther into the trans community and upping his activity since there was a lot that needed to be done in terms of expanding the community and in activism even more so since he was a trans, queer and Jewish man. “I like the idea of that whatever you think would be best.” He didn’t want to blatantly admit he’s sexually inexperienced but he wanted Amos to show him what he thought would make him feel good while he was dominating Mark. He watched him as he flipped him over on his back and giving him a quick kiss. He watched him as he gets up and goes to his dresser picking out some different items. He knew that he would find the right things that would help them both feel good in the situation. He watched as he took out the vibrator and small remote and handed it to him. Then as he slid the vibrator into his wet pussy which was extremely sexy. “I like the sound of that I’ll make it where i tease you to come so badly that you fuck me hard just to let you cum. I want you to fill my tight pussy with your big cock.” He said as he watched him as he put on the strap and chose which dildo to use.

@w-o-r-d-s--f-a-i-l

Mark sat in the waiting room of his trans health doctor. Waiting for his best friend Roger to get off work. Today was a huge day for him. Today was a huge day for him he was going to begin his medical transition by receiving his first dose of testosterone. After months of researching with his roommate he finally found a doctor to begin this process. He and Roger both wanted to find a doctor who felt comfortable with the situation and willing to take his case. Roger was insistent on joining him. So he waited anxiously for his arrival. Dressed in a simple pair of men’s jeans, A white button down and two tank tops to hold down what he seemed to think was his way too large breasts. He had recently began medication to lower the amount of estrogen which made him thrilled even seeing slight facial hair on his face. He sat looking at his dirty converse as a strand of his mid length blonde hair that was tied in a bun hung in his face.

[justbeyouandshine]

"I want you girls to promised me you won't let to anyone make you feel bad 'bout yourself... ¿okay?, you perfect the way God made you."

[lairreparablefugadeltiempo]

Women & Guns

[mehbzz]

At least once

Stu Macher x F!reader.

A random scene that I never used in the Poly!Ghostface series I did, didnt want to waste it! Doesn't really have an ending as it wasn't finished.

It's just smut. Set just before Stu and Casey break up, but after he and Billy have killed Maureen Prescott.

18 + PWP. Dub con, vaginal sex, abusive relationship, controlling/possessive behaviour, double penetration, premature ejaculation, dirty talk, unintentional orgasm denial, Stu being a selfish asshole.

---------------------------

“We shouldn't be doing this.” Guilt doesn’t gnaw at you as often as it used to, but every now and then it still rears its head. Now, pinned under Stu as he sucks bruises into your skin across your chest and neck, is obviously one of those times.

“Why not?” He nips sharply at your jugular, pulling your leg up over his hip as does.

“You have a girlfriend!” You turn your head away from his insistent kisses, but keep your leg hooked over his, your body not obviously agreeing with your guilty mind. “And Billy-”

“Billy doesn't mind, if he was here he'd be watching. Fuck baby,” his breath hitches as his fingers slip between your legs. “He’d be balls deep already if he knew how wet you were.”

“Stu, I- I don't want to.”

“A little late for guilt when you’re already naked in my bed.”

“Stop!”

He pulls back a little to look at you, he looks genuinely surprised. “She won't know, I won’t tell her.” You can’t help roll your eyes at that. As if he would. “It’s not wrong. Besides we’ve fucked before.”

“Wait!” you grasp his shoulders and he stops again, something almost like genuine anger flicking across his face before it's gone.

“Babe, baby, baby girl, you're killing me here.” He presses a quick kiss to your nose.

“Condom.” You gasp as he shifts his hips, his cock nudging against your clit as he shifts his weight.

“What for? Aren't you on birth control? Shit, aren't you?” He looks almost excited as you stay quiet, hoping he’ll take your silence as a no and back down.

“You'd look cute,” he presses a palm against your abdomen. “In the kitchen, swollen belly, making me dinner in nothing but a sexy little apron,” His cock twitches against your inner thigh and he moans, grinding against you. “Just waiting for me to bend you over the stove and fuck you silly whenever I want. Fuck!” His hips stutter and he huffs into your hair. “Fuck making me cum, you little slut.”

The derogatory nickname surprises you almost as much as the feeling of his cum splashing hotly across your hip and over your stomach, distracting you from the possessive tone to his fantasy.

“Shit, that's a little embarrassing.” He drags a finger through the mess he left across your skin. You feel a little relieved, expecting and hoping his constant pressure will ease now he got what he wanted. He has a light blush across his cheeks and you can’t help but giggle at his embarrassment.

“Shut up.” He kisses you hard, fingers still swirling through the mess on your skin. Too lost in his kiss that you don't register his fingers sliding down your thigh until they're pushing inside you

You're distressed whine is ignored, his fingers twisting and scissoring inside you. Your attempt to push his wrist away pointless against his strength.

“We don't need a condom now,” He breaks the kiss with a grin. “You already got my cum inside you, what's a little more?”

“Get off.”

“Just did,” he has one hand loosely around his cock, “And I'm ready to go again.”

“Stu get off me!”

“Don’t snap at me.”

You flinch at his tone. Billy was always the one quick to anger, quick to reply in anger when arguing. Stu, as hyper as he gets, never seemed to reach that level of rage, but his tone now makes you think you maybe don’t know him as well as you think you do.

It’s tense as you stare at each other, unsure how he’d react if you tried to push him away until his gaze softens and he sighs. “Come on babe I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” He nuzzles into the side of your neck smothering you with gentle kisses. “It was hot, I got carried away. Forgive me.”

You let him kiss you, soft little fluttery kisses up and over your neck and shoulder, until the knot of hurt starts to melt. You shouldn’t forgive him, you shouldn’t but you feel like you have to. “I'll forgive you if you wear a condom.”

“Nope. How about I fuck you until you cum hard enough you have no choice but to forgive me?”

His pushiness is draining. You are on birth control but pregnancy isn't the only worry. You suspect, unfairly or not, that you're not the only one he cheats on Casey with.

"Stu-"

He must sense your resolve draining as he lowers his hips until he's between your legs, cock pressing against you. “It feels so much better without, trust me.” He groans long and low as he slowly pushes in. “I want to fill you up, fill that pretty little pussy and watch it drip out.”

Your breath catches.

“Yeah you like that? I want to,- jesus fuck, see Billy fuck you while you're still full of me,” He’s rambling, his thrusts having slowed to short grinding ruts of his pelvis that has him rocking right against your clit with every push and pull of his hips. Despite your reluctance his dirty words are fuelling the arousal building steadily within you, his cock hitting the perfect spot to have you moaning and gasping his name. “want to eat you out after Billy fucks you full.”

That makes you clench hard around him and your back arches, hands scrabbling at his shoulders in an effort to pull him closer. You’re so close.

“There you go, good girl. You feel so good when you cum around my cock like that. So tight.” He doesn’t sound like he’s teasing you and his hips stutter to a stop. “Don’t stop!” You whine of desperation as you try to rock your hips against him is met with a hiss and a pinch to your thigh. “Relax greedy girl, I’ll make you cum again,” he looks down at you with a sheepish grin. “Just need to slow down a little, gonna make me blow too early again.”

Is he fucking serious? You can’t tell if he’s purposefully denying you or honestly misreading your reactions. He clasps his hand across your mouth as you try to speak. “Shhh quiet time. Let daddy catch his breath.”

You're feeling a little like a sex toy. Like he’s using your body to masturbate with as he rambles about his favourite fantasies. He must notice your unhappy glare as he removes his hand from your mouth and drops his head to take a nipple between his teeth, fingers pressing against your clit.

“What do you think about? Tell me that filthy little fantasy that has you fucking your fingers at night.”

You don’t answer, and from the way his hips start to rock again slowly you don’t think he really cares. He leans back, kneeling back on his heels as he watches his cock glide in and out of you.

“Think you could take us both?” His finger drops from your clit to press against your entrance, pushing incessantly as he tries to squeeze a finger inside you alongside his cock. Your nails digging into the sheet beneath you, knuckles turning white as he manages to slip the digit inside. “Holy shit that's hot. Does it hurt?”

“Don’t!” It doesn’t hurt exactly but it’s uncomfortable, the stretch morphing into a burning sensation as he presses deeper, the push of a second finger making you hiss.

He starts to rock his hips slowly, the burning feeling growing in intensity. You try to relax; but he’s too fixated on watching as he fucks you with his fingers and his cock to pay any heed to your pained whimpers.

“Look at you, Casey would never. Knew you were my favourite,” The annoyance at his words evaporates as he curls his fingers, the overwhelming rush of pleasure forcing a choked scream from your throat. You feel so full.

“You could totally take both of us in there ah f-shit!” his hips snap forward, ripping his fingers from you roughly as he grips your hips and buries himself to the hilt. He swallows your frustrated cry at being denied your orgasm again with a messy kiss, drooling into your mouth as he cums hard. His entire body shuddering against you.

“fucking christ baby, took me by surprise,” He's panting hard, but there’s a definite hint of embarrassment in his tone as he buries his face into your neck, trying to catch his breath. “Dirty girl. Made me cum twice. Never done that before.”

He winces as you wriggle under him, uselessly trying to rock your hips against him in an effort to save your ebbing pleasure. “Easy bunny, sensitive.” You huff, going still, rubbing a hand across your eyes in frustration. “Fuck you. At least make me cum once.”

He chuckles giving you a sloppy kiss before he leans back and pulls out. “You came, I felt it.” he sits back on his heels, keeping your legs spread with a firm grip on your thigh. The rush of wetness making you cringe but he looks enamoured as he stares.

Hurt blooms in your chest as he licks his lips, you feel used, and that hurt twists into something spiteful. Makes you want to spit something cruel at him, tell him actually you’re not on birth control, so now what jackass? Or tell him that Randy is bigger and better than he is, not that you know, but he wouldn’t know that. “Stay the night?”

His question startles you, he never lets you stay, and the cruel jab dies on your tongue. “Stay with me?” He’s a lot more perceptive of your moods than you give him credit for, and he loves the fact you can’t read him as well as he can read you. Knows you will say yes, will give in to his demands over your own feelings. The satisfaction he feels when he sees your resolve falter makes his cock twitch.

You nod, and he smiles, hands finally leaving your thighs to brush gently up over your ribs to palm both of your breasts. “Have I ever told you that you got the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen?” His thumbs brush so lightly over your nipples that it tickles, his grin widening as goosebumps break out over your skin.

He knows he pushed you too much tonight, that he went a little far, knows Billy will be angry with him if he pushes you away just as they’re getting you where they want you. He can’t help it, being around you drives him a little crazy. You make him feel powerful. How easily you forgive him for hurting you, for comparing you to Casey, just turns him on like nothing else. You’d forgive him for anything, he knows you would.

“You still need to tell me what you think about when you’re flicking it.”

“Flicking it??” That forces a half surprised half embarrassed laugh out of you but he tugs your hand away from your face when you try to hide.

“Why are you embarrassed? Is it dirty? Kinky?” He digs his fingers into your ribs, making you squeal and wriggle, desperate to get away from his tickling fingers. “gross and kinky? Ohhh it is isn’t it? That's why you won’t tell me.”

You can’t catch your breath, torn between laughing and borderline tears as he continues to assault your ribs. “Bet I can guess,” he’s hard again, cock aching with the need to be back inside you. Having you at his mercy is like a fucking drug. “You want me to-”

“Enough enough!” you slap your hand across his mouth, not wanting to hear what ever gross filth he’s about to spout.

He continues to mumble against your palm, deliberately slobbering his tongue across your palm until you let go with a look of amused disgust. His cock is heavy against your hip, the arousal from your denied orgasm coming back full force as you run your fingers over it. You’re not sure what he and Billy were doing before you came over, but the manic energy Stu had when you arrived obviously still hasn’t abated, his hips jerking into your touch as you stroke him. “Too filthy to share? I won’t judge,” He leans back out of your touch, his hand replacing yours around his cock. “I’ve got some pretty fucked up stuff I want to do to you too.” You roll your eyes, obviously not believing him and he feels a little disappointed at that, but he bites his tongue, he can share those thoughts with Billy later. He lets you watch for a minute as he lazily jerks off, the obvious desire in your eyes fuelling his ego.

“Show me then,” he has to stop when he sees your hand move between your legs, obeying him more eagerly than he expected. Your fingers running through the mixture of his cum and your wetness nearly pushing him over the edge again. He squeezes the base of his cock hard, determined not to embarrass himself for a third time that night. “Good girl, show me what you do when you’re thinking those dirty thoughts.”