#more bmw edits are on the way it just took me forever to find a video that my laptop would download properly and it's only eric and jack S5

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 18 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Lots of little details for this part--which was a joy to write, by the way. I cried a little over some of the bits towards the end--to write something I love so much is truly moving again and again. I listened to Hozier’s INCREDIBLE new album, Wasteland, Baby! a lot for this part, a HARDCORE #Duckenzie album (Movement, As It Was, Sunlight, wowwwwowowowwww).The hook/lingerie stuff got pushed to 19, because I want it to be from Duncan’s POV/wanted us to see Kenzie in the lingerie through his eyes (for...obvious reasons), and also because when they get home (now at the beginning of 19 rather than the end of 18 as I originally planned) they’re gonna be too sleepy to have a long fuck since they’ve been at the beach all day/I needed something fun for their Monday night. So, that is coming soon. I wanted this part to be joyful and really fun and very romantic, and I think I succeeded with that. Kenzie thinking of her Momby playing John Denver during car rides is my nod to my own mother doing that very thing when I was growing up. A very special thank you to Diah (@impiorumrequies) who helped me with all of Pilar’s Spanish phrases (both she and Pat are my characters, not AUs). The picture Duncan takes of Kenzie in the house is based on the one @ghostwithangeleyes used for this Millory Honeymoon edit (I was actually the anon who requested that one, and I love it SO MUCH--it was a huge inspiration for this part too)--the original is a pic Billie posted on her Instagram here (I realized when I saw her bikini closer it had colored dots, not black ones, but whatever, I wanted Kenzie to have a black-and-white polka dot bikini, so I left it that way in the story). Both of the photos Kenzie takes of Duncan are based on actual photos of Cody: the second one here, and this one from his Instagram from when he was in Costa Rica at the beginning of this year (@hi-ilovedamien I may or may not be hoping you’ll make some Duckenzie Insta edits with them lol xoxo). Here are Kenzie’s cheapie sunglasses (I ordered them for myself lol). Here’s her wrap dress. Here’s her beach hat. Here are her sandals. Here’s her beach bag. Here are Duncan’s sunglasses in this part. Here are his Armani sandals. Here are his swim trunks. Here’s the buckling beach blanket--I want it so bad now, I might have to buy it this summer. Here is Duncan’s $200 Crate and Barrel picnic basket, which I also want really fucking badly now...but it’s $200 fucking dollars. Here’s their beach towels. Duncan’s jet is a Falcon 900LX, the same kind the Koch brothers have--since Beau Willimon based the Shepherds on the Kochs, I thought it made sense to give Duncan the same kind of private plane (Annette and Bill have their own planes, the Falcon is Duncan’s personal plane). The Shepherd Cape Cod house is something like this, though not quite--the Shepherds’ beach house is white and surrounded by a gate, and the interior is a little bit larger, the couch is longer, etc. I had to feature Hozier’s DINNER & DIATRIBES (also from Wasteland, Baby!) at the end of this part--a nod to @deanfinite including it on her BODY & SOUL playlist (thanks again for making that, darling--wow, what an honor!), and a song I will forever associate with Duckenzie now. As ever, those of you who are following along and showering me and Duckenzie with so much affection--I love you all.

Kenzie had been beyond surprise when she saw Tyler approaching her and Claire at their barstools, from the far corner of Jack Rose--the day had already been so surreal (this week has been the most surreal of my life and it’s felt like a year and like the blink of an eye at the same time), and her argument with Annette (Annette’s eyes flashing, Kenzie falling down into their dark well, blood chilling in her veins) was still humming in her nerves, making her jittery. Some days are diamonds, she thought of that old song by John Denver, Momby used to play it during car rides, some days are stone. I think today is both and diamond and a stone, and my whole life now seems to be days that are roller coasters of emotions. How can I be so happy and so upset and so confused all in one day? And so, so, so happy.

Tyler had looked good; he had looked clear-eyed and happy and she could tell that when his eyes fell over her, they held nothing but affection, and if anything, that was the worst part. I wish you hated me just a little, Kenzie thought as he leaned beside her chair, his shirt unbuttoned just-so. Because I know I broke your heart, even if you never said it. When she saw Duncan coming, Kenzie’s heart had lept into her throat--god, this probably looks bad, she thought, and she could feel the wave of jealousy coming off him as though it were literal heat, as though someone had turned a blast of hot air onto her skin, fluttering at her cheeks. His blue eyes had looked at her with smoldering attention, and Kenzie knew again, knew utterly, that Duncan was wildly, deeply, and utterly in love with her. It dipped its fingers, his love, down into the center of her, scooping her heart out and pressing it into his lips. And she hadn’t, not for a moment, wanted him to feel hurt. If only I could shield him from ever being hurt again, she thought, if only I could spare him pain, for I love him, and his pain is mine, and I can feel it in his gaze, and I know he doesn’t want to feel it, I know he feels guilty over his own pain, but I know he feels it just the same, looking at the man I used to love.

Later, in the BMW, she’d felt the raw rush of his pain again, her hands in his hair, his stubble, when he’d murmured “he still loves you” into her mouth and she heard the ache in him, the echo of his own words said so many times already behind it (I love you, Kenzie) and she’d wanted nothing more than to hush it away--Kenzie hoped with all her being that Duncan knew, in that moment, that he was the only one for her. I only love you. It frightens me too, she thought, but I would die for you, this I know, I’d do anything it took to be with you, I’d swallow my own pain a thousand times, because the hole you would leave, if I didn’t, would howl in me, it would rip time apart, because to be with you is my destiny, Duncan Shepherd, in this world and all the worlds to come and all the worlds that came before.

That morning she woke first--Duncan was sleeping with his head tucked down towards her, his hand under his chin, an eyelash on his cheek (she brushed it away, gently), and Kenzie wondered if this is how he’d looked sleeping as a child--every line of worry had faded from him, and his breathing was so small she’d felt a wild, tiny burst of fear until she noticed the breath from his nose stirring the small hairs on his arm. Someday, he’ll die, and so will I, and that makes every moment we are together precious beyond all words. If we’re all reincarnated endlessly, I think we are written into every lifetime, he and I. I think we will find each other every time. I think so. I don’t know how I know that. But I think I know that now. Kenzie leaned down over Duncan’s wondrously beautiful face, molded from the first clay, most divine, by the gods, waxing romantic and idealistic in their artistry, pressing her lips into the softness of his cheek. He stirred just a little, but didn’t wake yet, and she could see the delicate dip of moisture she’d left on his skin, glistening for a moment, then drying. Like an invisible tattoo. Kenzie got up carefully; me first today, she thought, and tip-toed to the walk-in closet, glancing long at her naked reflection in the huge mirror as she did (hair tangled, god, my hips are huge, my eyes look nice today though, they’re so bright lately, god, you really are in love aren’t you Kenz), struck again by its colossal beauty, heart hammering. It seemed to shimmer with a gold sheen in her eyes as she watched herself in it, throwing gold dust over her body--how odd, she thought, it must be a reflection from the frame. Some kind of trick of the light. This mirror is so strange.

Kenzie stopped as she went into the closet, heart falling down into her stomach and then catapulting back up into her throat--tears immediately pricked her eyes as they fell on all her things, organized so meticulously, across from Duncan’s perfect monochrome wardrobe.

Oh my god, he did this for me. I can see his love in this. He organized my things so carefully; by style and color. This is so beautiful. This is art. Kenzie felt as though she could see the aching sensitivity with which he’d touched her things; she felt she could go back and watch in her mind’s eye and see his face, the affection in his gaze as his fingers trailed against the softness of her clothes, lined her dresses and shirts carefully beside each other, touched her shoes with such care--her eyes fell on the heeled sandals she’d been wearing that night, a long, long week ago, the ones he’d untied, kissing her feet--oh, baby. You did this for me. You made this so beautiful and so perfect, for me. She felt a tear course down her cheek, and Kenzie hugged her arms against her naked belly, sniffing quietly so as not to wake him in the room beside her. I never thought, in all my life, I could feel so wonderful, so wildly, so completely happy. There’s so much joy in my heart when I look at this, I could dissolve into it like stardust.

She went to the drawers underneath where he’d carefully hung all the clothing from the standing rack; these drawers were organized meticulously too, oh my god, even my underwear, and she blushed. She shut the drawer, heart twinging, opening the one beside it, in search of her bathing suits--we’re going to the beach today, and not just any beach, Duncan’s private fucking beach at his Cape Cod house, fuck. She found them neatly lined alongside her bras (according to color, whites and creams blending into pink, red, gray, black), pulling out her favorite bikini, white with tiny black polka-dots, slipping the bikini bottoms over her hips, pulling the top over her little breasts, carefully tying the back with her arms crooked behind her (I bet he’ll like this little number, she thought, smiling down at it, loving its coolness on her skin). Then she rifled through the dresses he’d lined carefully above her, finding the navy beach-wrap dress with white flowers she loved so much and had worn on several vacations with Momby (one had been with Tyler, she thought, shivering a little, remembering last night and the way Duncan’s jealousy had thrilled her, made her anxious to be alone with him, to reassure him, I’m yours baby, all yours, kiss me, fuck me, touch every part of me, I’m yours, body and soul and fuck had they reassured each other, Kenzie could still feel the soreness in her ass where he’d penetrated her)--Kenzie pulled the dress down off the hanger and wrapped it around her body, pulling her tangled hair out of the back, stepping quietly out of the closet as she did. She glanced over at the bed--Duncan was still fast asleep, his closed eyes only vaguely visible over his back and the crown of his dark auburn-and-russet hair. My love, sleep a little longer, I love to see you so sweet and so quiet this way. She quietly padded out to the living room, her eyes falling on the roses on the coffee table; Kenzie dipped her face down, drinking in their rich scent, suddenly struck with sadness for the day soon to come when they would wilt; I’ll hang them upside down over our bed to dry, she thought, and then I can smell them at night and never forget how much he loves me, because their scent is his love, and so is the sight of them.

Kenzie moved on to the seldom-used dining room; she moved around the cherrywood table (in her mind’s eye Kenzie saw Duncan lay her down on it and pull her roughly onto him, between his legs, pressing needy kisses against her breasts--I can’t help it, she thought, smiling, blushing at no one, into her hand, I want him to fuck me on every surface of this place, in every corner and everywhere and always) to where a long, ornate chest rested in one corner--Kenzie opened it carefully, and her eyes fell on the telltale object she had hoped to find: a wooden picnic basket, painted white, with brown leather straps and gold embellishments. Ugh, this is lovely, she thought, pulling it out carefully and peeking inside--there where small white plates strapped to the inside of the lid, a cheese knife and a bottle opener between them, four wine glasses in sturdy compartments in each corner of the interior, a cutting board, napkins lined in blue and white, and several sets of cutlery. Kenzie wondered idly if he’d ever used it with another lover; selfishly, she hoped not. She gripped the straps of the basket and went back out to the kitchen, setting it gently on the black obsidian island. Kenzie went over to Duncan’s imposing black espresso machine, pulling two of the little copper espresso cups down from where they rested in the tray atop it, its shiny exterior winking at her in the sun streaming through the window over the sink as she pulled the portafilters out, carefully dispensing grinds into them from the grinder beside it, biting her lip, hoping the sound wouldn’t wake him; not yet. She glanced at her succulents that lined the window as the espresso machine ran two doubles into the cups silently, streamlined, sepia crema rising--there were a dozen plants in all, in their little terracotta and glass pots, each growing cheerfully, their green-and-red leaves seeming to wave at her, and she grinned. I love them there and Duncan said he loves them too. I’m so fucking happy. Who needs drugs when you’re in love like this.

Kenzie went to the fridge, pulling out the bottle of orange juice within, going to the cupboard; she noticed someone (maybe Duncan, maybe the housekeepers) had placed her cheap little glasses--most of them from Target--next to Duncan’s ornate Waterford glasses; the little one with peonies on it, the glass he’d pulled from her hand to crush her longingly against him the night he’d slept in her futon with her--was near the front. Kenzie pulled it down and poured orange juice into it; then, carefully, she gathered the three cups in her hands (the two with espresso clutched in one, a delicate balance of fingers, the orange juice in the other), and watching her footing in the long wrap dress, trod back to the bedroom. She watched Duncan’s back rise and fall, still fast asleep, as she carefully set the two cups and the glass on his night-side table--Kenzie pushed her hair over her shoulder from where it had fallen into her eyes, glancing at the silvery alarm clock (7:42) and then she climbed carefully onto the edge of the bed, her hands falling on his arm and along the back of his neck; then she pressed her face down into his neck and kissed him under his ear, her lips lingering, biting at his earlobe. The musky scent of him filled her nose, and Kenzie felt a twinge down between her legs; that smell kindled her need, brought thoughts of him devouring her into him in the watchful eyes of the mirror (that mirror) last night barreling to the front of her mind. Fucking her so good that she drifted into delirium just to think of it. Beloved, sharing all the secrets of your body with me, I never want it to end, my dearest love. Devour me again, and again, and always. Duncan stirred, turning towards her; his eyes opened, hazily, their blue fire piercing into her, snatching her breath as they always did. His arms lifted and immediately pulled her down into him, demandingly; his lips pressed into hers, his tongue probing into her mouth, and Kenzie fought to resurface from the depths into which she immediately plunged in his arms.

“Good morning, angel,” he murmured into her mouth, hands falling down the softness of the wrap dress, searching for the opening, finding it as her thigh came free; Duncan’s hand went up the incline of her calf and pressed between her legs to the smoothness of the bikini over the lips of her cunt, and Kenzie couldn’t stave off the burst of desirous laughter that erupted from her mouth as she facetiously tried to twist away--”Fuck, Duncan, baby,” she whispered into him as he continued to press his mouth into hers, “Good morning to you.” She could feel the weight of his cock pressing into her thigh under her knee; he’s always hard in the morning, always. “I made you an espresso. But I want some of your orange juice.”

Duncan pulled away from her with some reluctance, glancing over his shoulder at where she’d placed the various cups. He reached for the orange juice (she watched his eyes rove up to the mirror, as if surprised to see it in the daylight, then back down), taking a careful sip from his prostrate position (she also noticed his eyes fall down the peony print on it, affectionately), then handed it to her; as she took it, Duncan pressed his face into her neck, the sweet smell of the juice falling into her from his mouth, and sucked at the sensitive skin there. “You can have as much as you want, baby,” he whispered, and his fingers fell down to her thigh again, trailing there, greedy.

“Baby, be careful, you’re gonna make me spill this,” she giggled again, but Kenzie thought who cares, honestly, who cares, keep kissing me, baby, you’re so fucking gorgeous and I always want you to kiss me, fucking kiss me. She drank deeply from the glass as his mouth worked at her, then she turned her face back into his, letting her tongue press between his open lips, and Duncan moaned. “I’m gonna fuck you right now if you don’t stop that,” he whispered. Kenzie pulled away from him; “Is that a threat, baby?”

“It’s a fucking promise,” he said, pulling the orange juice out of her hand and pushing it back onto the nightstand, reaching back to press her, harshly, flush against him; Kenzie felt the hardness of his cock against her belly now, and she tried to steady her mind as he bit into her neck, his tongue flicking out to leave a wet little trail on her skin. “Baby, it’s almost 8, we should probably get ready soon, shouldn’t we?” Duncan groaned into her, resting his nose along the side of her face. “Ugh, yeah...I guess we should...maybe we should cancel the beach after all.”

“Aww, Dunny, no, I wanna go--” and Kenzie turned her face to nuzzle her nose into his, closing her mouth and pressing a soft little peck on his bottom lip. “I really wanna see your plane, too.”

“Aggh, okay, fine, baby,” Duncan pulled away from her reluctantly, sitting up in the sheets, rifling a hand through his sleep-tossed hair; even sleep-tossed, baby, it looks so fucking good, Kenzie thought, still in the pillow, her eyes falling over his graceful features. I wonder if I’ll ever look at you and not feel struck dumb by you, lost in your face, your eyes, your lips, you, baby, Dunny, my beloved, you. “Thanks for making me a coffee.” He reached over to the espressos, grasping both, handing one to her carefully; Kenzie sat up too, kissing him again as she pulled it from his hand. “I found your picnic basket,” she said, staring at him as she sipped at the bitterness, carefully, her other hand reaching out to trail along his arm. Duncan stared at her; Kenzie fought off the shiver she felt at his eyes. They look at me with devotion; those incredibly radiant eyes. Now I’m always caught in the gaze of a god of beauty. “It’s so lovely, I can’t wait to use it today.”

“I’d forgot about it, actually,” he smiled at her, finishing off the espresso, setting the copper cup back on the nightstand, his hand coming around to press at her thigh, eyes still intensely focused on her. “I’ve never used it before; I bought it a long time ago, on a whim; maybe someday I’ll find someone to use this with, I remember thinking. And it’s been in that chest ever since, for years.”

“I guess it was waiting for me.” Kenzie grinned at him, her espresso cup now empty, too. Duncan pressed his face down to her, the bitter taste of the coffee mingling between their mouths, her hand coming up to cradle against his hair.

“Kenzie, I was waiting for you,” he said, and she shivered a little, pressing into him. They stared at each other for another long moment; my sweet Hades, come out into the sun with me, Kenzie thought, and pulled away from him, climbing out of the bed. He whined after her. “Time to get up, baby,” she replied, turning her nose up in mock-severity. “You can kiss me on the beach.”

Kenzie went into the bathroom to where all her things were lined up on the sink opposite Duncan’s; she loved the picture of it, his minimalist bottles and jars, her colorful containers of perfume and makeup. She reached for her brush, pulling it down into the tawny tangle of her hair as Duncan came up behind her, now in a tight dark grey pair of briefs in the same style he always wore--his hands came around her in the mirror, drifting up to her little breasts in the wrap dress, and she grinned at him, turning her head to the side so he could kiss her jaw as she continued to brush her hair. He reached for his toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste on the counter over her shoulder, and Kenzie couldn’t help but admire him again in the reflection as she set the brush down; how lovely to spend the whole day with you, she thought. How lucky I am. But it isn’t luck, is it? It’s how things are meant to be. Me and you, baby. Kenzie admired the small dusting of hair in the center of Duncan’s chest, the fall of his belly (his bellybutton was concave, and Kenzie thought of her own, which pressed outward just a little), the trail of hair leading down into his groin, the coiled strength in his upper arms, the staggering loveliness of his hands, which looked always akin to something painted by Michelangelo, the gods’ perfect daydream of hands. Those hands on my body, what ecstasy, she thought, reaching for her own toothbrush.

“You know,” she said, staring at him through the bathroom mirror as she ran cold water over the bristles of the brush, “I’m wearing my bikini under this.”

Duncan’s eyes flicked toward her and rolled up a little, and he leaned down to spit into the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and reaching for her, his hands (your fucking hands, love) coming up under her breasts to grip her ribs there, possessively. “Fuck, Kenzie. Don’t tell me that. We’re not going anywhere if you don’t stop it, baby. I’m gonna throw you on the fucking bed and fuck you all day instead.”

Kenzie made a face and stuck her tongue out at him, which was covered in toothpaste. He laughed at her, moving his hands down to the dip of her waist. Kenzie twisted away from him and he let go, reluctantly. “I told you I wanna go to the beach,” she said with mock severity. “Do as I say and get ready, Dunny.”

He pouted at her. “Fine, Princess Kenzie.”

Kenzie rinsed her toothbrush, grinning at him again. “I like that. Princess Kenzie.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, teasingly.

“You are. You are my fucking Princess, aren’t you, baby.”

“Uh huh. And you’re my Prince.” He smiled at her (absolutely intoxicating, my Prince, my Hades pulling me down from a field of flowers into your dark smoldering kingdom of bones and pressing your ardent kisses into my body, baby) and went to the closet, his eyes skirting back over her as he did. “You should see the stuff people are saying online,” he said, turning away from her as she followed him out, disappearing into the walk-in, obscured from her for a moment.

“Like what,” Kenzie followed him into the closet, too, reaching for a pair of beige flat sandals with laces similar to the heeled sandals that rested beside it (those sandals he’d unlaced on that first night, pressing her into him and Kenzie knew her life was about to change forever, somehow, I knew) on her side of the shelves. She slipped them onto her feet (her toes unpainted but neatly trimmed--when Kenzie got a pedicure, which was very seldom, she asked for clear polish only), leaning down to tie the laces. Duncan glanced to her from where he was rifling through one of his lower drawers--then he knelt down, quickly, still in only his dark gray underwear, and gently pushed her hands away, carefully crossing the lacing over her ankles, the gentle caress of his fingers making her legs break out into goosebumps instantly, and Kenzie’s heart slammed against her breasts. He’s so wonderful. Fuck. Baby. You call me angel, but you’re my angel too.

He finished tying the laces (double knots) and looked up at her from where he knelt before her; Kenzie could see the devotion dancing in his gaze again, and felt frozen under it. How can you, Duncan Shepherd, be looking at me this way.

“Thanks, baby,” she whispered.

“They’re saying we’re the most beautiful couple they’ve ever seen, that you’re a princess, a queen, and I that should marry you. And I am inclined to agree.”

“Dunny. We’ve been dating for a week.” Kenzie’s heart slammed into her ribs again. In a colossal tidal wave of abandon, she allowed herself to indulge the thought for a few seconds; imagined their wedding, surrounded by a thousand flowers, imagined a flower crown around her head with crystals threaded through it, imagined how beautiful he would look, his hair falling so perfectly, his blue eyes looking at her with the same reverence she saw in them now, clutching her hands in a dappled sunset, surrounded by loved ones, pressing cake into his cheek, both of them laughing. Then she willed herself to bury these thoughts; god, could anything be so wonderful...Kenz, it’s already happening, you’re surrounded by wonder already, how is any of this real in the first place. Kenzie felt dizzy suddenly as Duncan stood up, his hands reaching for hers. He gazed down at her.

“I love you, Kenzie.”

“You’re still in your underwear, Duncan.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” and she went up on her tip-toes (I just can’t reach you otherwise, can I, baby, she thought with a thrill) and kissed him. “Now, get dressed.” She turned her back to him, pushing away her needs and her disappointment and her daydreams of their imaginary wedding (I’m inclined to agree) and the allure of his blue eyes as he looked after her hungrily--time to pack us a picnic lunch for the beach, she thought, time to spend all day with you, in a dream.

------

It was about an hour later when they left the penthouse; Duncan was carrying the picnic basket now stocked with a picturesque array of foods from his seemingly-always-perfectly-stocked futuristic silver fridge, as Kenzie was starting to notice--clusters of wine-colored grapes, a wheel of white brie, tiny, round, crispy baguette crisps, several small cuts of cured charcuterie sausage, cold chicken, golden pears, little gherkin cucumbers--and another basket in his left hand, this one with two bottles of wine (a white and a rose) and a six-pack of Corona cerveza, which Kenzie had been delighted to find on the bottom shelf of the fridge (he does drink beer after all, reassuring her once again that he was indeed human) and one perfect green lime. Tucked under his arm were two luxuriously huge jacquard-woven cotton white-and-navy beach towels, which Kenzie had squealed in delight over when she found them in the linen closet in the bathroom. He had a different pair of sunglasses on today; these were round black Saint Laurent with very thin frames, and made him look like a famous musician to her, effortlessly cool--his shirt was a collared button-down Hawaiian-style with a print that reminded her of the dappled floor of a pool, and he was wearing navy blue Burberry swim trunks with a white tie around his abdomen, and black thonged Armani sandals--today Kenzie had noticed how well-pedicured his feet were in the sun, the prettiest feet on a boy I have ever seen, she thought, shyly. Kenzie tucked her hair behind her ear in the soft wind, glancing around--mercifully no paps, she thought, good thing because Harris has today off--shifting the buckled navy-and-white beach blanket she carried to her other arm, a slouching straw beach bag over her shoulder with sunscreen, one of her books (Jane Eyre), a cardigan, her phone, her earbuds, her cheap little round rosy-golden sunglasses, and her wallet. She clutched the edge of her straw beach hat in her fingers (it had a black ribbon around the crown) and smiled at him. Duncan gave her a little smile in return as they walked to the BMW, the sidewalk quiet today--the sky was clearest blue, with no clouds, and it was already quite warm, in the low 80’s. Samuel was idling there on the corner--as Kenzie looked up he came out of the driver’s side and reached for the buckled blanket she carried, grinning at her, lifting it carefully from her grasp. “Thank you, Samuel,” she murmured.

“You two look like you’re about to go to a photoshoot,” he replied, cheerfully. He was wearing dark sunglasses today and Kenzie could see her reflection in their shiny surface, her hair drifting around her shoulders, the dip of her wrap dress. “You are stunning, Miss Mackenzie.” She grinned at him, toying with the tiny rose-gold necklaces she’d put on today--three charms, a celestial sun, a crescent moon, and a planet with rings. Duncan carefully placed the two baskets in the trunk which Samuel had opened for them, then tucked the towels in beside them--Kenzie’s heart swelled to look at the beautiful things all lined up neatly there before Duncan shut the lid with a snap, beckoning her away from her thoughts and into the backseat as Samuel got back into the driver’s side. “C’mon, baby, the jet’s waiting for us at Dulles.” Kenzie slid in behind him, her hat in her lap, She looked up at Duncan--he was gazing at her (I’m always caught in his blue-fire eyes, licking at my skin) with a serene expression, and he reached for her hand, twining his fingers through hers.

“I’m so happy to spend the whole day with you,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss her. Kenzie’s breath caught in her lungs--my life is this charmed thing now, this beautiful dream, only it’s not a dream, it’s really happening, you’re really mine--at the scent of him, woodsy and musk, and she returned his kiss, closing her eyes, lost in the moment and the feeling of his hand on her cheek as the car pulled away from the curb, and the air smelled like sunlight and cool green grass, the windows down and the warmth on her skin. Samuel played Etta James again today--at last, the skies above are blue...my heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you...I found a dream that I could speak to, I dream that I can call my own…

-----

At the airport Samuel pulled into a designated area for cars near a lot where several private planes were lined next to each other, partitioned into a small bunker--”Come on, baby,” Duncan murmured to her, pulling away from the cradle of their embrace, where they’d been lost in the touch of each other on the way, leading her gently out of the car, his blue eyes glinting at her over the rim of his sunglasses--Kenzie let him pull her up, let him grasp the edge of her straw hat to carry it for her, his other hand holding hers tightly, and he led her to a jet on the end, white with red curving ribbons of color along the sides--900 LX, Kenzie could see printed on the tail, serial numbers along one of the side-engines. Its stairs were already extended to the ground, anticipating them--the pilot, who was white and middle-aged with a large nose, a dark brown mustache going gray around the edges, and squarish sunglasses was standing casually near it, sipping from a Fiji water bottle, a cigarette in his other hand, almost entirely smoked. He gave Duncan a little wave as they approached, and Kenzie noticed him look down over the dip of the sunglasses at her, smiling a little, curiously. His gaze was gray and friendly.

“Duncan,” he said cordially. “And this must be the famous Mackenzie Stone.”

“Pat,” Duncan said, nodding at him, then smiling down at her. “The one and only.” Kenzie shyly readjusted the strap of her beach bag. “I dunno about that,” she said, a mortified blush in her cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Pat.”

“The internet’s in charge these days,” Pat replied, cheerfully. “And it says you’re famous now. Welcome aboard, Miss Stone.” He inclined an arm toward the plane’s steps, and Duncan’s hand went to the small of her back, pressing her slowly toward them. Kenzie grasped the silvery railing, gathering the edge of her wrap dress in one hand so she wouldn’t trip, and stepped up into the plane; she glanced over her shoulder at Duncan, who nodded at her encouragingly. Inside, there were several rows of seats--7 rows in all, two seats per row except for the last, which was one long seat with two seatbelts. A woman of indefinite age with coffee-colored skin, in a smart white blouse and fitted black pants, smiled at her as Kenzie got to the top--she wore mauve lipstick and dark eyeshadow, and had her dark hair tied back in a glossy ponytail.

“Miss Stone,” she said, holding out a carefully manicured hand; her nails were dark red, and her smile was warm. Kenzie grasped her fingers, smiling back. “I’m Pilar, buenos días. I’m your stewardess today. Please do not hesitate to let me know if you need anything. I’ve been taking care of Duncan since he was five years old.” She had a very slight accent, a vague lilt at the end of her words. She glanced at Duncan, her eyes bright on him. “I watched him grow more and more handsome everyday.” Duncan looked away, clearly embarrassed at her flattery.

“Pilar used to slip me extra cookies when Mom wasn’t looking,” he said, then looked down at Kenzie affectionately. “My partner in crime.” Pilar laughed; it was a wonderful laugh, her head thrown back with abandon, the sound of it seeming to emanate from the pit of her belly. “Always,” she replied. “We’ve just switched to extra gin and tonics these days.”

“Speaking of which--” Duncan said, and Pilar nodded, grinning at him. “Claro, Duncan. Please get settled, I’ll let you know when Pat says we’re ready to go. Is Samuel here?”

“You know he is. I can’t seem to get him to take more time off, no matter how hard I try.”

Pilar looked down the stairs to where Samuel was carefully carrying their picnic baskets towards the plane; she let out a little squeal and carefully rushed down the steps on her black pumps, trotting towards him to give him a long hug; Samuel’s big white grin was visible from where they stood at the top of the steps. Kenzie smiled towards them; Samuel really is the best, everyone who works for the Shepherds is so wonderful. I never really realized how many people are constantly working behind the scenes for the wealthy. When Duncan takes over Shepherd Unlimited, we have to make sure they’re really being taken care of. Kenzie went through the side-door of the jet, hesitating over the seats; Duncan pointed towards the back, where the long seats were. “Let’s sit back there, Kenz, yeah?” Kenzie nodded and made her way there, setting her beach bag on the floor, sitting and looking up at him carefully. “Everyone is so wonderful, Duncan, everyone who works for your family, I mean. We have to make sure they’re all getting paid fairly. We have to make sure they have good benefits--when you take over the company, I mean. I’m just...so moved by everyone.” Kenzie pushed the apprehension she felt over being so forward with him away; surely, he must understand what I’m saying. He’s my dearest love and he will listen to me.

“I agree. Mom hasn’t been very transparent with me about that sort of thing and I plan to go over everyone’s salaries and benefits as soon as I take over for my Uncle.” Duncan sat next to her, reaching for her hand, taking his sunglasses off to look at her. Kenzie reached her fingers up to his cheek and Duncan turned his face into her palm, closing his eyes, as if the feeling of her alone moved him beyond words. Oh baby, she heard his mind push the sweetness of the emotion in it towards her, you are such an angel, I’ll do whatever it takes to deserve you. I have to. You deserve only the best of everything, including the best of me. Her heart ached inside his words; she was nodding to him before she realized. “We can make so many people happy,” she whispered.

“Kenzie. Listen to me. I want to make you and Madeline members of the board of directors for Shepherd Unlimited.”

Kenzie’s fingers were still on Duncan’s cheek and she gasped a little; he opened his eyes and stared at her, his gaze unflinching, and put his hand up against hers, keeping her fingers on him.

“Duncan. What.”

“Kenz. I mean it. Please say yes.”

“I--fuck, Duncan, I--”

“I know you can do this. You’re so brave and so brilliant and so kind. I need your help, baby. I need your help to make Shepherd Unlimited into what it needs to be to help people. I need you.”

At that moment Pilar stepped back on board the plane, carrying the picnic baskets; Kenzie could see her through the open pathway between the plane’s plug door and the seats, the curtain there pulled to the side. Samuel was behind her with the beach blanket and their beach towels, and he and Pilar were chatting amiably, not having noticed the heightened nature of the looks on Duncan and Kenzie’s faces or the way Duncan held her hand against his face. Kenzie let go of him and looked down at her bag, rifling in it for her phone, attempting to keep the other two from noticing her expression; her head was pounding, and she could feel Duncan’s eyes (blue flames) on her, feel the warmth of his emotions still, falling over her. Pilar and Samuel were slipping the baskets into a fridge towards the front of the plane, beside the door to the cockpit, and then Samuel waved to them; Kenzie smiled at him from her bag and Duncan gave him a little nod, then Samuel turned and kissed Pilar’s cheek in an affectionate gesture before he climbed back out. Pilar came towards them, and Kenzie fought to straighten her face, pulling her phone out of her bag and clutching it tightly in her hand. Duncan’s fingers came against her thigh, and his touch immediately began to soothe her nerves; it was medicinal, healing, and utterly trusting. The board of directors, she thought, dumbstruck. Me and Momby. Oh, my god, Duncan. Annette will actually explode.

“Pat says we’re ready to go,” Pilar said, her dark brown eyes shifting between them. “I’ll get you that gin and tonic as soon as we’re in the air, Duncan. Mackenzie--what would you like?”

“Umm,” Kenzie’s mind felt blank, like a chalkboard someone had wiped clean.

“I make a strong mimosa,” Pilar wiggled her eyebrows, sticking a little bit of her tongue between her very straight, white teeth.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Pilar.”

“You look a little green, mami. Do you get airsick?”

“Um, no, no, I don’t think so.”

Duncan squeezed Kenzie’s leg a little, his eyes on her with an expression of concern. I didn’t mean to bring it up too soon, they seemed to say, though his thoughts were indistinct to her right now. I didn’t mean to upset you. Kenzie slipped her hand under where his was against her thigh, opening her palm to him, threading her fingers into his. “I’m okay, just excited, I guess.”

“I have to say this--don’t get upset with me, Duncan, miho--but ¡qué parejazo!--you are a very, very beautiful couple,” Pilar said, and Kenzie could see the way the woman’s face was flushed with the sincerity of her words. “No wonder everyone online is so obsessed. Like a prince and a princess, ay dios mio. Like royalty.”

“Ugh, Pilar. Thank you.” Kenzie looked at Duncan as he said it and saw the blush on his cheeks, and his delighted grin at her sincerity. Pilar shifted her gaze onto Kenzie again, her expression tinged with both immediate affection and concern. You don’t even know me yet, and already you’re so lovely, Kenzie thought, a wave of appreciation washing over her. I think I have to do this. I think I have to accept what Duncan is proposing. I think I need to be on the board of directors and be fucking brave and fucking do this for him--for everyone. I can help everyone in the company if I do this and so many people who aren’t in it, too. And Momby will be there too, if she accepts. Why wouldn’t she? Annette may hate me, but Momby loves Duncan already.

“Thank you, Pilar.” Kenzie’s voice trembled a little, and Pilar leaned down to her immediately, grasping the hand Duncan wasn’t holding, her other hand coming up against Kenzie’s hair to rest gently on her shoulder, her face full of sympathy. “Mami, you are doing just fine. Don’t you worry. It must be hard to suddenly be in the spotlight this way. But I can see how much this boy loves you. In fact, I have never seen him this way. And es tan conmovedor...it’s very beautiful to see. You will be happy together. I can see that too. I’m gonna make you a very strong mimosa, and you’re going to have a beautiful day together.” Pilar squeezed Kenzie’s hand, then she straightened and turned to pass through the aisle, closing the curtain behind her. They heard an audible click and Pat’s voice fell into their ears from overhead. “Hey Duncan and Mackenzie, we’re all clear for take off, should be about three hours, skies are super clear and the wind is with us, don’t see any delays. I’ll check back in when we’re on our way down. Enjoy Pilar’s strong libations, Mackenzie, she’s infamous for them.” The loudspeaker clicked off and the Kenzie felt the plane drift forward. She snapped her seatbelt together, phone in her lap, and Duncan snapped his in turn beside her before leaning into the side of her hair, his lips pressing into her ear.

“Kenzie, baby, are you okay?”

“Mmhmm. I’m okay. I’m just...everything is...everything’s so…”

“You don’t have to explain, Kenzie. I love you.”

Kenzie lapsed into grateful silence, looking into his lovely face, her heart full. She sniffed a little, pushing her tears back; she could feel the plane drifting towards the runway, and her stomach did a somersault; I told Pilar I don’t get airsick, but I guess that isn’t entirely true. I feel sick right now. I feel overwhelmed in the wonder of everything again. Right now she felt as though her heart was trying to leave her body. The plane accelerated and she gripped Duncan’s hand harder; he leaned into her and her head fell on his shoulder, his chin coming gently against the crown of her hair. Kenzie closed her eyes as the plane went faster and faster, trying to concentrate on the warmth and pressure of Duncan’s hand; then she felt the plane lifting off the ground and the empty drift of its ascent into open air. She breathed out, slowly--she could feel Duncan breathing carefully, measuredly, beside her, feel the rise of his chest under the crook of her arm resting at his side. She thought of Pilar’s words, the sincerity in her eyes: you will be happy together.

------

A few minutes later they were still sitting quietly that way; Kenzie had been drifting inside the feeling of Duncan’s hand, the woodsy smell of him under her nose, the feeling of his jaw against her head, the slow incline of the plane; she opened her eyes as she heard Pilar come through the curtain again with a bar cart, upon which was a dish of round ice cubes, a plastic tumbler of gin and tonic for Duncan, and a plastic champagne flute of mimosa for her. Pilar handed Kenzie the flute with a napkin pressed to the side, her warm hand touching Kenzie’s fingers gently, then she handed the tumbler to Duncan with a napkin underneath it. “Enjoy, vida bellas. Call me when you want another.” She gestured to the round buttons on the far edge of the armrest of Kenzie’s seat, and then Pilar winked at her; Kenzie smiled up at her and nodded against Duncan. I love her. Pilar turned the bar cart back around as Duncan unbuckled his seat belt, carefully easing away from the soft weight of Kenzie’s head, pulling the tray on the back of the seat in front of him down to place his drink on it, then he turned to her and looked at her for a long moment--Kenzie held her mimosa, her fingers chilly on its icy, smooth surface, feeling frozen inside him. I’ll always get lost in his eyes. And not just because they’re so beautiful--but because they look at me as if I’m the reason for their beauty. And that’s what shakes me. She took a deep breath.

“Baby. Okay. Dunny. Duncan. I accept.”

“Kenzie.” The smile that broke over his face crushed into her heart like flower petals falling in a spring storm. “Thank you. Baby. Everything we can do. Everything we will do, together. With you by my side, I know we can do wonderful things with the company. Things that will help the world.” He reached for her hand; Kenzie felt overcome with the rawness of the emotion that drifted between them, and she smiled back at him, tears in her eyes.

“Baby, let’s take some photos today,” Duncan said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, opening his camera. “I wanna save memories from this day. I wanna look back on them later. Our first full day together, no one else.” Kenzie grinned at him; this sweet angel. Duncan pressed his hand against her cheek for a moment, then moved it to angle his phone. Kenzie lifted the mimosa out to him; it caught the morning light through the plane’s row of small windows, and Duncan lifted his drink with his other hand, his index finger reached out as they clinked them together, tucking around the incline of her hand between thumb and forefinger; he held his phone up and snapped a photo. He held it up to her for her approval; Kenzie gazed down at it, loving the graceful shape of his hands and the desirous affection with which he’d reached for her, the dancing golden line of light reflecting off her flute. She nodded at him, cheeks burning. “Good, baby. Really good.” He grinned at her (the smile of an angel) and she watched him type, though he had his phone angled so she couldn’t quite make out the letters.

Kenzie opened the Instagram app impatiently on her phone in her lap; the first photo that popped up on her feed was the one Duncan had just posted. At the bottom he’d included a caption: Stealing away to a secret hideaway for today with @kenzielouwho. I am the happiest man on earth.

Kenzie’s cheeks burned, her heart full to bursting. Duncan reached out for her hand and she felt his face lean down to her, lips against her cheek. “I can’t wait to be alone with you, baby, really alone.” The whisper of his mouth against her made her shiver. She turned her face into him; into his mouth, this mouth that’s mine, this mouth that is a part of me as he is a part of me, as he is the other part of me, once lost in the darkness, now illuminated in the light. And what a bright light we are. What a brilliant light we will be.

“Dunny. I love you. I love you so much.” She looked up into his eyes; his were glittering with a sheen of moisture, and she breathed against him, her words soft, her hands caressing down his arms to soothe him. “You are my special one. The only one.”

He blinked, then closed his eyes and let out a little sigh, as if overwhelmed by her touch and her words. Kenzie watched as tears gathered along the edge of his eyelashes and she fought back her own, and concentrated, pushing her thoughts into him with golden fingers; the size of the love inside me for you is greater than I am; how can something within me be bigger than I am? But it is. I know it is. I wish I could show you, pull it out of me and let it fall over you, a weightless armor for you to wear, and wearing it, you’d always be fearless, and you would never need to cry about anything, Dunny, because your heart would know that mine holds it, always. I’ll love you until the stars fade and the universe is swallowed in darkness. I’ll love you with all of me, in every lifetime, with all of my body and every bit of my soul, forever.

--------

Kenzie had drifted off into sleep against him about an hour later; she’d been idly scrolling through Duncan’s Instagram, leaving hearts and starbursts and kiss emojis on his posts (red carpets and black-tie events and photoshoots and one that she particularly loved of him laughing on the deck of some opulent place, looking into the camera with the sunset fading behind him; Mom got my good side, he’d written below--all your sides are your good side, baby, she thought, you are the most beautiful boy I have ever seen). She tried to avoid the comments--they left her stomach in a ball of anxiety--but Kenzie noticed Duncan had liked and left hearts and heart-eyes and comments (my baby, I love you, you look so beautiful here, and so on) on almost all of her photos. She’d also noticed she had over a million followers now--yikes. As she did this, Duncan threaded his fingers through her hair quietly--he’d seemed unable to speak for awhile, lost in the intensity of his emotions, and she had pressed her head into the crook under his arm, that spot of mine, until she felt his breathing quiet and his body soothe under her touch, and in his embrace, eventually, she’d fallen into a slumber wherein she dreamt about finding a dead deer under a flowering tree; in the dream, she’d laid her hands carefully on its matted fur, and pushed life back into it; reversed time, her dream-self had thought, I pulled time back so it left the thing that happened in a future still unwritten and I brought the life back from the dark place it went into when the deer shuddered its death-rattle, and the deer had gotten up and walked away, and in the dream Kenzie had thought yes, that’s it, that’s the way of it, the right of it. But then she woke up--woke up to the sound of Pilar pushing the little bar cart back through the curtain, handing her another mimosa with her warm smile. When Pilar had left again, she sleepily leaned away from Duncan, setting her mimosa down on the tray in front of them, and he looked down at her affectionately, his phone in this other hand--Kenzie saw he’d been on sothebys.com, looking through the “upcoming auctions” section. My boyfriend is rich enough to casually browse priceless antiquities like he’s shopping on Amazon.

“Pat was just on the speaker,” he said to her softly, “We’re starting the descent into Yarmouth now. The drive from the airport is only about five minutes, and then we’ll be right on the beachfront, baby.” He trailed his large hand down her arm, then onto her thigh. “Were you dreaming?”

“Uh huh. There was this dead deer...I had a white dress and a golden headband with leaves on it--and I touched the deer and brought it back to life. It was so strange. The other day I had this dream where Claire was choking and I literally did something to open the skin of her neck and get the thing out that was choking her, and then she was okay. What the fuck does that mean?”

Duncan gave her a puzzled look, re-buckling his seatbelt. “That is weird. I’m no expert on dreams; I wonder if it means anything. Maybe we should go see a psychic or something,” and he grinned at her. Kenzie made a face and stretched; Duncan lifted his hand up to press it down her waist as she did, in a longing moment of abandon. “I keep thinking about last night, baby,” he leaned into her, whispering. “I keep thinking about that mirror and how it feels like it always belonged with us somehow, I keep thinking about how beautiful you looked in it--” Kenzie couldn’t help it--Duncan looked so beautiful, his hair falling in perfect waves, his eyes so impossibly blue, staring into her, the light shadow on his jaw, the curve of his cheek as the now-midday sunlight from the plane’s small windows fell against him, his straight nose and full lips and the way he reached for her with his beautiful, graceful hands, the tenderness and aching lilt in his voice--thoughts of last night fell down into her too, the musky smell of him as he had fucked her, filling her to the point of madness, the commanding voice he’d used to tell her to open her eyes, to watch them in their passionate embrace--and she forgot the strange dream in the space of a moment, her mouth coming up to his, lost inside the immensity of his arms (the greatness of my love for you angel is as vast as the universe and you fill me up so it grows more and more and its beauty staggers me), she heard his thought, tinged with blue flame. As the plane descended, they barely noticed--Kenzie felt his eyelashes brush against her cheek as he kissed her, pulling her into him, needy; and by the time it had landed and the steps had descended and Pilar came through the curtain to tell them they’d arrived, Kenzie and Duncan were breathing fiercely into each other, reality obscured by lust and Pilar’s strong drinks, mislaid in the scent and the feeling of the other, trying to resurface from the private place between them into whence they’d strayed in the space of moments.

“Mis amores, the beach is waiting for you,” Pilar said as they pulled away from each other, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy. “You can continue where you left off when you get there.” She was grinning at them, and Kenzie leaned down to grab her beach bag as Duncan pushed his sunglasses onto his nose, as if to hide the brightness of his eyes, the heavy vibration of their desire for her. He turned to Kenzie and gave her another kiss, this one a small peck, his mouth closed; wait till we get to the beach house, she heard him press into her, and the wave of want inside the thought made goosebumps break out on her skin. Pilar helped them carry their beach equipment down the steps, and there was already a dark SUV waiting for them, a service from the airport--they carefully lined the baskets and towels and blanket in the trunk with the driver’s help, and Kenzie slid into the backseat, Duncan behind her.

“We should be back by 5,” Duncan said to Pilar before he slid the door shut.

“Si, Duncan, Mackenzie. Enjoy each other.” Pilar grinned at them mischievously again and turned away to where Pat was having another cigarette--Kenzie saw him pass one to her as the car drove away. She reached for Duncan’s hand; so close to being alone with you in the sunlight, baby, she thought, and relief washed over her as he clutched her tightly. He was right about the ride being short--4 minutes and 50 seconds later, the driver was helping Duncan with the baskets and the buckled blanket while Kenzie gathered the beautiful beach towels in her arms, breathing in their freshly-laundered scent. The Shepherds’ beach house was a huge, classic white Cape Cod-style, with two decks and a wide driveway facing the street, enclosed by a padlocked gate that Duncan had hopped out of the SUV to press a code into as the driver pulled up. As the driver went through, Kenzie could see the white stretch of beach visible behind the house, and no other residences were close enough to spy--Kenzie saw two other similar houses about a two dozen yards down the street, but they seemed to either be empty right now, or their residents inside. Kenzie looked back at the house; and it seemed to look back at Kenzie in quiet contemplation, ocean-minded and easy. The driver placed the baskets on the doorstep and Duncan thanked him; Kenzie hopped up behind him as the man walked away and drove off. “He’ll be back around 5,” Duncan murmured to her, and used a keycard from his wallet to open the door. It swung to a living area with a long, expensive-looking brown leather couch and easy-chair, seashells and gold paperweights and books on the shelves, a stone-lined fireplace in one corner. Kenzie moved through it to the kitchen after him, where he placed the picnic baskets on a tasteful island in the center of the room (not like Duncan’s obsidian island, but nothing is as beautiful as that is). The kitchen had long counter-tops and a spotlessly clean dining table with seven chairs, and Kenzie could see a long deck through the window of a pair of sliding doors; she felt giddy at the wide stretch of sand she could see beyond it.

“Fuck yes!” She couldn’t help it--this is fucking great, she thought, rushing to the door of the deck, yanking it open, feeling the sea breeze cascade over her hair and cheeks as she did. Kenzie stepped onto the deck and hopped a little, up and down, with pure delight. She could see seagulls wheeling above them; long seagrass stretched along the beach in clusters, and the sand seemed impossibly light in the dappled warmth of the sun and the deeply blue sky. Duncan followed her out onto the deck, smiling at her with an expression of pure happiness--she couldn’t see his eyes for his dark sunglasses, but he laughed as she hopped up and down again, falling against him.

“Baby,” she said into him, breathlessly. “This is so beautiful. We should come here every fucking day.”

“I agree. Fuck work and everyone who isn’t you, angel.” Duncan gathered her against him and his kiss tasted like the sun, its warmth reaching into her and pressing around her lungs. “I think we should go down to the sand and eat lunch and lay in the sunlight.”

“Oh fuck yes,” Kenzie agreed. “I just wanna look at you for the rest of the day, baby.”

“Ugh, baby,” and Duncan leaned down to her again and his hands came to the tie at her waist, undoing it before she even thought of stopping him--his hands (those hands) slipped down to the bare skin above her bikini bottoms, sliding against the softness of her waist and belly, and his tongue went into her mouth, and Kenzie couldn’t stop the little moan that came out of her, the smell of him like sandalwood and damp earth, her hands coming around his neck. Duncan’s hands went down around her ass, clutching her there for a moment (last night how you fucked my ass and filled me up and came inside me there how you fucked me so fucking good baby) and he moved them further down still to grip her at the back of her thighs, lifting her into his arms, her head hovering above his, their lips still crushed together. Duncan carried her, kissing her, pressing her against him, back into the kitchen, then into the living room--Kenzie gasped as he threw her down onto the long leather couch, tossing his sunglasses onto the easy-chair, pushing the dress away from her body; he kneeled down to where she lay against one of the throw pillows, watching him with desire and delight, and pressed her legs apart, insistently, staring at her--then Duncan licked his lips and Kenzie let out another little moan; she brought a finger up between her mouth, biting into the pad of it, lost in his eyes again. Duncan grasped her bikini bottoms in his two long hands (those fucking hands, fuck) and yanked them down from her thighs in one strong motion; they pooled around her ankles and Duncan pulled them away from her feet, his lips kissing into her knees for a moment--then he pressed her legs apart harshly again, his lips coming up the inside of her thigh, slowly, carefully, with concentrated attentions--his tongue slid up the delicate, sensitive incline of the space between where her thigh met her hip bone and down to where the lip of her cunt began--Kenzie’s body shuddered with the knowledge of where it would go next, and she whimpered into her finger, eyes half-closed now.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispered, and she felt his breath against the wetness he’d left on her skin. “What do you want me to do to you? Tell me. Command me.”

“Duncan, eat my pussy. Suck my clit. Do it right now.”

He groaned into her at that; Kenzie could see the mound of his erection under the thin fabric of his swimming trunks from where he knelt. He pressed his hands on either side of her thighs, wrenching her legs apart even further so her cunt was lifted up to his face, the lips of her vulva shuddering as her muscles spasmed in arousal; then he pressed his mouth against the bud of her clit and laved his tongue out against it, achingly slow. Kenzie shuddered violently; a prolonged moan erupted from the back of her throat, and she felt his mouth smile against her. He paused, his lips pressed into her, and Kenzie bit into her lip, hard, trying not to beg--but the sensation of him was too much to bear.

“Bay-beeee,” and she heard her own voice as if removed from it, as if floating beside herself, “fuck me with your tongue, Dunny, fuck me good with your mouth--”

Duncan didn’t need another prompting--he sucked insistently at her clit as her pleading bled out into whimpers again, his grip pressing her thighs apart, making her core ache with intensity and need. Kenzie could feel how wet her cunt was growing--she felt dampness leaking down into the pucker of her ass, felt droplets of his spit falling into the folds of her vulva. Duncan pressed his tongue into her clit again, then probed down into the canal of her pussy, then back up, and her hips bucked up into him, slowly, into his mouth, to welcome him inside her. Duncan’s blue eyes opened from where they’d been closed in concentration; Kenzie tried not to gasp as she stared into them, feeling dazed, bewitched in his stare--not every girl gets eaten out by a fucking angel, she thought, fighting to keep her gaze inside his, her heart fluttering wildly as the intensity of his attentions between her legs caused a hot, rising swell there, her orgasm already threatening to arrive full-force into his mouth.

“Kenzie, come for me, Princess,” he murmured into her, and Kenzie’s head fell back, her eyes falling up to the ceiling, unable to stop herself. Princess, oh my god. I am your Princess, baby. You’re my Prince, and I’m your Princess. She couldn’t help but feel a kind of carnal satisfaction at the word--I’m yours, your princess, now fuck me good. “Fuck your Princess good, baby,” she said, and watched his eyes come up from where his mouth worked on her, a promise in his gaze: oh, I fucking will. Suddenly she thought of the dress Morgan had sketched for her; the dress she would wear to the Gala, resplendent and divine. Wait until you see this fucking dress, baby, she thought. Your Princess all in gold.

Duncan sucked at her clit again, his fingers coming up demandingly to press the lips of her vulva away from the bud, and Kenzie shuddered, feeling the wave of her release riding up now--the most beautiful boy in the whole fucking world is pressed between my legs right now, sucking on my clit, and he calls me baby, calls me angel, calls me Princess, calls me divine, a goddess, and he wants me to come, and fuck, I’m gonna--

“Gonna come now, gonna come hard, baby--” And Kenzie’s hips bucked up harshly into his mouth now and Duncan continued to press his fingers into her so the lips of her cunt were spread under them and his mouth was pressed with careful immediacy around her clit, his tongue working into it as she moaned, her mouth wide and raised up, and his other hand came into the wetness that rushed out of her between her legs, fingers probing into her cunt to feel it spasm out her release in waves, her muscles clenching around him.

“Yes, baby, good,” he whispered into her, his breath on her clit making her shudder again and again as she came down. “I love how you feel when you come under my mouth like that, fuck--” He licked his lips (oh my god, those lips) and Kenzie pulled his face up with shaking hands, pulled his wet mouth against hers, tasting and smelling her own release on him--then she said “my turn baby, it’s my turn now,” and he moaned and she pressed him into the couch beside her and slid down, softly, between his legs, pushing the dress off her shoulders, undoing the tie at the back of her bikini top and tossing it to the floor, so she knelt between his knees naked for him, her cunt still spasming from the memory of her orgasm, kindling her desire to please him. Kenzie pushed her hair back, then her fingers went to the tie on his swim trunks, little fingers working quickly. “Uhh, Kenzie, angel baby,” he whined, and his hand came up to press into one of her little breasts, his thumb fondling over her nipple, his eyes (blue flames, storms, demanding) shining at her, all his attention focused on her, his mouth still wet from her. Kenzie reached down into the waistband of his trunks and her hand fell on his cock, thick and hard (so big, filling me up when he fucks me)--she pulled it out, gripping it tightly, as she moved her other hand down between her legs to slick the wetness from her orgasm over her fingers. Duncan watched her do it with hunger shining out of his beautiful eyes--”Fuck, Kenzie,” he whispered, and she shushed him, bringing the other hand, her fingers now soaked in her release, along the length of his cock, and using both her hands to lather it from the bottom of his shaft to the head, easing it into the sensitive hole there. Duncan’s head fell back and Kenzie felt the shudder in his thighs--then she dipped her head down brought her tongue over the head, bringing spit out of her mouth to slide down his length obscenely.

“I need you to come in my mouth,” she said, and she looked up at him, making sure to stare--making sure he saw the demand in them. “Fuck my mouth, Prince Duncan. Fuck my throat and come in my little mouth, baby.” He nodded (Prince Duncan, rapturous in his beauty), his lips falling open a little, and his hands came up to her head, gripping into her hair, gently at first, then more harshly. She slid her mouth down into his length, willing her throat to open and take him in--she gagged for just a moment, then felt his thick cock slide down into her throat until her lips were at the bottom of his shaft--Kenzie closed her eyes, steadying herself, then she moved back up and began to bob her head while he was still buried inside her --she felt Duncan lift his hips up into her, lost in her mouth, then back down, and into her again, so he was fucking her throat with slow, measured concentration--Kenzie closed her eyes, feeling tears gathering at the edges of her eyes at the intensity of his length inside her this way, but she continued to move her head, feeling spit drip down the side of her chin. Duncan reached out to wipe it away, and she looked into his eyes as he did--his were full of deep, coiled lust--but that same wildly ardent adoration of her twined around it, and Kenzie realized she’d stopped breathing. She lifted him out of her throat to gasp a breath out--then she plunged his length back down into her, and Duncan shivered violently, a deep moan tearing from his throat, and he said “Kenzie, baby, I’m gonna come in your mouth n-now, okay--”, his voice shuddering as he tried to hold back, and Kenzie nodded and pulled back so his cock was just between her lips, then she felt the wet heat of his release coat her tongue and the back of her teeth and a long rivulet of his white come ran down from the side of her mouth, drops falling on her knee, and her eyes fluttered closed as Duncan’s gaze went hazy on her, lost inside his orgasm, and he groaned as he watched her, his hand coming up to grip her throat gently, tenderly, but possessively, needy, his cock still delicately held in the front of her mouth as every drop shuddered out of him into her. He quieted and Kenzie swallowed, licking her lips--Duncan leaned forward and his tongue came out to lick his come from the side of her mouth where it had dribbled out, and then he kissed her, needy again, his mouth open, and she could taste both her release and his as they tongues came together.

“Fuck, Kenzie, that was fucking incredible,” he whispered into her. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Duncan,” and she smiled up into him, loving the hair falling on his forehead and the soft feeling of his fingers under her jaw, falling down into her golden hair. She reached down to where she’d discarded her bikini top and pulled it back around her little breasts; searched for where Duncan has discarded her bottoms and slipped them back on, standing on post-coital wobbly feet. Duncan leaned back to look at her for a long moment, carefully, tenderly slipping his cock, now going limp, back into his swim trunks. Kenzie stuck her tongue out at him, wiping at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, and he laughed.

“Baby, I wanna take a picture,” he said, pleadingly.

“Oh, yeah, Mackenzie Stone, covered in sex, here she is everybody!”

“Please, baby? You look so beautiful.”

“Fine.” Kenzie rolled her eyes facetiously as Duncan pulled his phone from his back pocket--he held it up to her and Kenzie struck a pose, hands on her hips, dipping her legs together, her mouth smiling open, her eyes skirting to the side on a whim. “There, that’s the best Instagram pose I can do.”

“It was perfect, look,” Duncan held his phone up to her after a moment--he’d posted it with the caption Princess of the beach @kenzielouwho followed by the crown, celestial sun and wave emojis and she felt raw under the adoration in his gaze as he looked at her. She glanced down at the photo. Aw, I do look sort of cute, she thought. “You’re just good at taking pictures, baby,” she murmured to him. Duncan shook his head. “No, you’re just really that fucking beautiful, Kenzie.”

“Ugh, give it a rest, Mr. Shepherd,” Kenzie turned, squinting at him over her shoulder. “Help me bring all this stuff out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, Princess Kenzie,” Duncan replied, his tone obedient and playful, and she felt a secret thrill; I love it so much. I love telling him what to do and I love it when he obeys me. He’s so fucking beautiful and he’s mine. I love his devotion. Kenzie slung her beach bag over her shoulder, tucking the towels under her arm and grasping the basket with the beer and wine in it in the other hand--Duncan grasped the picnic basket and the buckled blanket and followed her out onto the deck and down the little wooden steps to the side, where there was a path that led a short way to the beach. It was hot and sunny now and the heat felt good on her skin, soothing away the intensity of the post-coital comedown she’d felt inside. She set the towels down carefully on top of the basket and as Duncan set the picnic basket down beside it she reached for the buckles under his arm, helping him spread the blanket out on the hot white sand, lifting her face up to kiss him for a moment.

“This was such a good idea,” she murmured to him, and Duncan smiled at her, nodding, his sunglasses back on the bridge of his nose. “I love it here, I knew you’d like it,” he replied. “I love how hidden it is from everything, I don’t even think most of the paps know about this house. They don’t seem to know about the Deep Creek cabin, either. I can’t wait to take you there, baby. It’s so beautiful there.”

Kenzie sat on the blanket, contentedly, and Duncan came down beside her, crossing his legs and reaching into the basket with the drinks, pulling out the frosty bottle of rose. Kenzie opened the picnic basket and handed him the bottle opener and he worked on the cork as she brought the plates and cutting board out, placing food on it carefully; the grapes and cheese and cold chicken. She popped some of the grapes into her mouth--”Gimme one of those, baby,” Duncan said, and she pushed one between his lips; they lingered on her, kissing her fingertips, before he chewed and swallowed, pulling the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying pop.

“I sort of mentioned something to your mother the other night at Busboys,” Duncan said, looking at her over the edge of his sunglasses, pulling out one of the wine glasses, filling it to the brim and handing it to her. Kenzie gawked at it, unable to suppress her grin, grasping it carefully. “Sheesh, baby, thanks--and what? You mean Momby knows about the board of directors thing already?”

“Not in so many words, but I asked for her help--when I take over for my Uncle. I guess I wasn’t sure yet exactly what I meant. But now I know I want her--and you--to have some clout, the power to make decisions that can combat and overrule Annette. Because I know one thing, Kenzie--Annette is going to combat us with this every step of the way. She’s not going to let either of you come in without pushing back. So we need to be ready for that.” Kenzie handed him a fork, a knife and a plate, and he took them gently from her, nodding gratefully. She smiled at him and jabbed her knife into one of the cold cuts of chicken, lifting the whole thing up to her mouth and biting into it ravenously. Having sex all the time sure makes you fucking hungry, she thought, deliriously drifting in happiness. This chicken is like, the best chicken I have ever fucking had. Everything tastes so good lately. She swallowed, reaching over to her beach bag and slipping on her gold-framed round sunglasses, pulling out the bottle of sunscreen after it, placing it on top of her bag as a reminder while they ate.

“I’m not afraid of your mother, baby,” she murmured, and she reached out to brush a finger across Duncan’s knee as he poured some wine for himself.

“I know you aren’t, baby, but I am. That’s why I need you and Madeline so much. I have to completely restructure the way Shepherd Unlimited functions as an enterprise--I have to convince the other shareholders that this is what’s best for everyone. I can do that with your help, I’m sure of it. I know we can do it together.”

Kenzie pulled one of the pears out of the basket and handed it to him--he gripped it from her hand, his fingers trailing along hers before lifting it to his mouth, his teeth ripping a chunk out of it with abandon. Kenzie pulled a sleeve of the tiny baguette crisps out too and ripped them open.

“I understand, baby. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

“Kenzie, please know how grateful I am. I don’t ask you this lightly. I know it’s going to be a challenge. I love you, Mackenzie.”

“Duncan.” Kenzie handed him one of the crackers, gently. “I love you too. I know. And I love eating with you like this. I love sitting here alone with you on this beautiful beach. I love you and I’m here for you and I’m with you, baby.”

“I want to buy the Post and give Candice executive powers over the operations. What do you think? Are you okay with that? I want to protect it from my mother and I want to protect you and your coworkers. I want to dismantle the show and Gardner Analytics. And I want to shift the Foundation’s goals. I want it to become a real Foundation. One that nurtures.”

“The Shepherd Foundation for Arts and Sciences.” Kenzie breathed out the words before she even realized what she was saying--Duncan paused, and she couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she saw the coiled movement of his hand as it came down to his knee in thought.

“Kenzie. That’s perfect.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shepherd, I expect to be well paid. And tip your waitress.”

Duncan laughed; it was a real laugh, genuine and from the gut, from the well of his heart, and Kenzie’s own heart clenched to watch him; he’s so beautiful and we are so fucking happy when we’re together, I’ve never felt like this with anyone, and we are going to do so many wonderful things, and I could just die my heart is so full---of him, and everything we’ve already shared with each other, and everything we will share--the days ahead will be so full and no matter what, I know we’ll get through them, we’ll be together through all of it, I can feel it, like he wrapped a blanket around me in the cold, soothed me with coolness in the heat. My special one. My Duncan. Duncan leaned across the cutting board and pulled her against him; his mouth was sweet with rose and pear and grape and she ran her tongue for a moment against his teeth and he groaned happily into her.

“I’m gonna go fucking jump in the ocean,” Kenzie said. “It’s fucking hot out, baby.”

“Not if I catch you first.”

Kenzie hopped up to get away from him; Duncan reached out and the tips of his fingers brushed her ankle; she squealed and took off across the sand, glancing behind her as he came after her, discarding his shirt to the ground--Kenzie waded knee-deep into the waves, yelping as she felt his arms come around her, his lips pressing down into her neck, tickling her skin and making her writhe in his grasp. “Kiss me, baby, kiss me, Kenzie,” he pleaded, and she did, her sea-damp hands coming into his hair and pressing him into her, and then she pushed him harshly and he stumbled back into the water, falling under a wave. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna get you for that,” he sputtered, grinning and coughing. Kenzie screamed in facetious fear, grinning back at him as he caught up with her and dunked her under the next wave--she came up spitting the salty sting from her lips, her hair soaked down her back now, and moved out into the water away from him, kicking off to swim out a little; swim so he’d follow her, and he did; he did and his lips crushed into hers as they floated in the sunlight, the taste of the ocean on his mouth, and his hands finding her under the water, finding her body and pulling her into him, his eyes on her, reflecting the water, making her shiver at their beauty; she grinned at him and pressed her fingers into his torso, tickling, and he kicked away in the water, laughing again, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck as they trod the waves beneath and rained kisses into him, his sea-soaked hair and his eyelids and his nose and his mouth, reaching up to taste her in turn. Icarus, fallen into the sea to be with me. Poseidon, come up from beneath the depths to be with me. Apollo flown down from the sun, to be with me. Ares paused from his rage, turned to me. Dionysus, grapes on his breath, kissing me…my Hades, my beloved, pulled from the dark, warm in my arms, here on earth, with me. With me.

------

Kenzie sat cross-legged on the beach blanket, Jane Eyre open on her lap (she was about halfway through--she’d read it before but it had been years since she revisited it--Jane was about to find out about Rochester’s mad wife in the attic, and Kenzie imagined, wildly, that Duncan kept his own secret mad wife in a closet hidden in the penthouse somewhere), one of the big towels tucked around her back from where she’d used it to dry off, slathering her limbs in sunscreen, her gold-rimmed sunglasses at her eyes, her straw hat with the black ribbon on her head, her hair, now drying in the sun, blowing in salty, golden strands around her face. They’d cleared the food away from the blanket but the wine glasses still there, Kenzie’s tucked between her legs, a little left in the bottom, Duncan’s balancing in the sand, empty, one of the Coronas, half-drunk with a wedge of lime floating in it, beside it. He laid next to her, his pool-dappled button-down under his head, his eyes closed against the afternoon brightness; Kenzie gazed at him as she rubbed sunscreen on her thighs and the back of her neck (he’d rubbed some on his chest and shoulders and she had gently smoothed some over his face a few minutes ago, admiring his unblemished skin and the chiseled beauty of his features as he lay still, obediently); his fingers were resting on the toes of her right foot, crooked under her knee, and she couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep.

His hair had dried in luxuriant curls, and it seemed lighter in the direct sunlight; almost golden like hers. She could see the light dusting of sand that had brushed into the side of his cheek, into his stubble, along the curve of his jaw--Kenzie almost felt like crying to look at him this way, in this angelic sweetness.  She pulled her phone out of her beach bag and opened Instagram, checking that the sound was off; I’ll take this one in secret, she thought, but I want everyone to know too, baby, I want everyone to know that you’re mine, an angel in my arms every night. She brought the phone down close to his cheek; Duncan didn’t stir, and she could see the small rise and fall of his belly in the quiet breeze. She brought the photo back up to her eyes; just his cheeks and the corner of his eyelashes, grains of sand, and the curls of his hair. He really does look like an angel. She posted the photo with three emojis: the angel, the heart pierced by an arrow, and the celestial sun. Duncan stirred a little, and Kenzie realized he really had drifted off to sleep, his face turning toward her, his other hand tucking over his eyes, the hand on her foot gripping tighter, as if in his half-sleep he worried she would leave. She leaned down and couldn’t resist the urge to press her lips into his cheek; it was salty and gritty with sand, but it still smelled like him; woodsy musk, sandalwood, jasmine soap, and that lingering scent underneath, the smell that was him, a smell without a name or description. Just him.

Kenzie glanced at the time; it was a little past 3, and there was still time to drift in this moment, his hand warm on her foot, the sun drying their sea-soaked skin. She thought let him sleep, drinking off the rest of the wine in her glass, topping it off with more from the bottle nearby quietly so as not to wake him, and went back to Jane Eyre. 

------

It was about half an hour later when Duncan stirred awake; Kenzie was on the last page of her chapter, munching on one of the tiny cucumbers they’d packed, and she looked up at him, her hand coming across to his hair, gently.

“Kenz, I had a dream too,” he murmured, pressing his fingers into the corner of his eye, rubbing it as she stroked his salt-kissed curls. She imagined him doing the same thing as a little child, felt sure it was something he had done his whole life (like the tick he has when he’s nervous, rubbing against his jaw and the bottom of his lip).

“Oh yeah? What was it about?”

“I was in pain...terrible pain. I think I was dying. I was on the ground and I couldn’t get up--I couldn’t feel my legs. I was talking to my grandmother..she looked different than I remember her, though, her hair was up, and Adelaide usually wore her hair down...I was begging her to take me into the house...I don’t know what house. I don’t know what I meant. I said, I can be with you forever. And she said...she said...go to hell. I couldn’t believe that. And then she left me there, in terrible pain.”

“Oh, baby, what an awful dream. It was just a dream, though. That never happened.”

“But--Kenzie. After she left. You were there. You leaned over me, your face full of compassion for me. You looked...different, but the same. Your hair was darker and down around your shoulders, a little bit shorter. You were all in black lace, but you had little gold jewelry--the kind you wear for real. And you leaned over me and you were soothing me. But you called me a different name. You called me Michael. And then...then I woke up.” As Duncan spoke he closed his eyes, as if to remember the images from the dream, and his hand came up to the crook of her legs where they were crossed. She grasped his fingers and kept her other hand in his hair, soothing through it.

“I’ll always be here for you, baby,” she whispered. “As long as I’m alive I will. I love you. You’re the only one for me.”

“Kenzie,” he opened his eyes and stared at her; they were clear despite his sleep. “You’re the only one for me, too. And I know that...I know it. As absolutely as I know the sun is going to rise in the morning and set the evening. As absolutely as a tide going in and out, or thunder coming after lightning…”

“That’s lovely, baby.”

“Still, all the same, I know it, Kenzie.”

She grasped his fingers; Duncan moved his head into her lap, and Kenzie pressed her legs closer together to cradle his cheek. “I wish today could last longer,” she said down to him, and he nodded against her, replying. “Soon we’ll go to the cabin and we’ll have days together, days to be alone together--I’ll show you the woods and we’ll make a bonfire, we’ll drink wine and fuck and watch the stars, baby.”

“Oh, Duncan. That sounds so wonderful.”

“I can’t wait, baby. I can’t wait to really get away with you for awhile.Today has just made me want it even more. This week is going to be so long. And the Gala is on Friday. My Uncle’s going to be there, too. If you think my mother is bad...just wait. And he’s dying. So he’s really his best self these days.”

“I’m not afraid of him either, Duncan.”

He pushed himself up on one arm, up into the crook of her neck; “I don’t doubt it,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful and so brave and I love you so much. You’re my moonlight, baby, my Persephone, breathing life back into me when I thought I was dead...”

Kenzie could feel the waves of emotion coming off him, like an endless tide of warm shadow; could feel the confusion still huddled in the lining of his thoughts from the dream he’d had while he slept, and she felt drunk off it, drunk on him and the closeness of him, not just his body, but what was inside. Duncan looked at her for another long moment, pushing himself further up to sit facing her; his hand came against her cheek. He didn’t speak, but she felt the waves grow stronger for a moment; felt his desire to soothe her in all things, to protect her and care for her for the rest of her life, for as long as she would let him--it was like he was pressing his lips against the deepest part of her, and it was so intimate it made her want to scream in its intensity, made her want to scream in the ecstasy of the feeling of him touching the lining of her hidden self; a part of her no one had ever touched and she hadn’t even really been sure was there. But she could feel his invisible fingers on it, and it shattered her. She turned her face away from him, tears immediately coursing down her cheeks in a cascade of overwhelmed emotion. Duncan leaned towards her--”Don’t cry, baby, please don’t cry.”

“I’m crying because...I’m happy. Baby. I’m so happy. So happy, but the happiness wants to tear me to pieces, it wants to rip me apart. It’s so much; it’s so big. It’s like all of the world is inside it. When I look at you, it’s like I see the world too. The universe. Everything.”

“I know. I know.”

She shuddered; the tears wouldn’t stop now. Duncan pulled her against him and she let a sob fall into his bare skin; he held her that way for a little while, his hands in her hair as she cried, her tears falling along his arm, the sound of the surf and the seagulls in their ears, and Kenzie couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe he cried a little too, cried so his tears fell against her hair and into the sand, though he didn’t make a sound.

------

Soon it would be time to go. Kenzie was putting her things away in her beach bag, a nostalgic melancholy already falling into her mood--work tomorrow, she thought, and the magick of this weekend over, at least, for now...I guess I shouldn’t be too sad, the magick that is between Duncan and I grows stronger every day. But the world keeps trying to get between us, doesn’t it. Well, I won’t let it.

She glanced up to where Duncan was sitting, his back toward the beach house, his face toward the ocean--he had his round Yves sunglasses and his shirt on again, and his expression was as melancholy as she felt; his arms were crooked around his knees, hair on his forehead, blown by the breeze over the sea, and his lips were almost closed, open tinily, almost imperceptibly, wistful. The sun was hanging low in the sky now, scudding behind some wisps of cloud that had appeared, throwing very small shadows over him. She grasped her phone where it lay near her bag--lifted it, and snapped the photo of him--a photo she would come to love fiercely in time, though she didn’t know it now. She added a black and white filter and was struck by the romanticism of it. Hades comes to earth, she typed, and spends a day in the sun with his Persephone. @duncanshepherd my heart belongs to you. She hit Share. He looked over at her, as if re-emerging from a dream; his eyes were concealed behind the sunglasses, and his thoughts were imperceptible to her right now.

“Ready to go, baby?” She asked, softly. He sighed a little and cocked his head to her. She cocked hers too, half-mocking, smiling at him coyly from where she kneeled in her bathing suit and sun hat. His melancholia seemed to lift at that; affection washed into his cheeks, and he smiled back.

“Today was perfect, Kenzie, wasn’t it.”

“Yes, Duncan. Today was perfect. I will never forget it.”

“Me either.”

-------

Pilar welcomed them, now sun-kissed and smelling of sea salt and sand, back into the jet with her deeply friendly smile--she gave Kenzie a knowing look as she took the picnic basket from Kenzie’s hands, and Kenzie wondered if Duncan had left any marks on her neck that she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe I just look really fucking happy, because I am, she thought. Duncan asked Pilar for another gin and tonic, and Kenzie asked her for a vodka tonic--after Pat’s cordial voice came over the speaker again to tell them they could take their seatbelts off, she brought the ice cold plastic tumblers to them, setting them gently on the tray in front of Duncan--Kenzie had pressed her earbuds in, her head on his shoulder, fighting the urge to sleep as her eyes fluttered closed. “So much sun makes you sleepy, reina,” Pilar commented, nodding to her affectionately. Kenzie nodded and smiled at her--she heard Duncan thank Pilar quietly--then a ethereal masculine voice with a lively guitar floated through her earbuds, blocking the rest of their conversation from her hearing...

Honey, this club here is stuck up / dinner and diatribes

I knew it from the first look of / the look of mischief in your eyes

Your friends are a fate that befell me / head is the talking type

I'd suffer Hell if you'd tell me / what you'd do to me tonight

Pilar walked away from Duncan, glancing at her affectionately again, her dark eyes skirting between them with that admiring glint. Like a prince and a princess. The song continued in Kenzie’s ears, lilting, choir-like chanting and clapping resonating.

That's the kind of love I've been dreaming of

Her eyes fell over Duncan, who was looking down at his phone. Instagram. He was on Kenzie’s profile and she blushed to see he’d noticed the two pictures she’d taken of him when he wasn’t looking. He expression was surprised, then shy, then he turned his face to her, eyebrows raised, and held up the one of him sleeping, sand on his cheek. What’s this, he mouthed, his eyes dancing. She smiled at him, timidly.

That’s the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of

He looked back down for a moment, going to the other one, of him staring out at the ocean in his dark glasses, a look of melancholy on his face. He held that one up to her too--his smile now seeped in emotion.

Now that the evening is slowing / Now that the end's in sight

Honey, it's easier knowing / What you'd do to me tonight

I love you, he mouthed to her.

I love you too, she mouthed back. Then he kissed her, and Kenzie closed her eyes, the music and the evening-soft touch of his mouth drifting into her, and she thought Eros carried Psyche into the clouds, again.

That’s the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of

That’s the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of

[thewarlocksbitch]

I will be your: hands, eyes, heart

prev - chapter 10 - next

word count - 5k

thank you to chloe for beta editing

read it on ao3

+

When Adam left the trailer park behind a week before term started, the last thing he would have imagined was returning to Henrietta so soon.

But here they were. Ronan, purposeful and confident behind the wheel of the BMW, calm and focused in a way that made Adam wonderfully content to witness, and Adam, sprawled with the seat leaned back at a relaxed 120 degrees, aimlessly sorting through Ronan’s CD collection as he unsuccessfully thought through his plan to disconnect the faeries from the ley line.

They passed trees and more trees, so fast that Adam could only see a green blur. Ronan had overshot on the highway and taken the wrong exit, and because of this, they did not pass Aglionby. Adam wasn’t sure if it had been an accident. It wasn’t important whether it was, but it was something to think about.

His mind had been reeling since last night, uselessly coming up with theories on what Ronan wanted to tell him and then shooting them down. It had to be very important. It might be what Gansey and Ronan had been keeping from him. It might be the key to all of this.

Adam tried not to let himself dwell on it too much. He thought that if he completely let his mind run wild with Ronan beside him he would start spouting theories and never stop.

Instead, he kept flipping through Ronan’s CD’s. Over and over and over, until suddenly Ronan was slowing the BMW and turning it into a gravel driveway overgrown with forest. Adam put the CD’s down and sat up.

The Barns, Ronan had called this place. But the reality was not anything like what Adam had imagined.

It was fields. And hills. Hills and hills and hills, rolling and sloshing and stretching on forever in a sea of lush green. Dotted all along them like small sneezes of occupation were run-down barns and then even more run-down barns, held up by leaning trees and propped slats of plywood. Crowded around one of the barns were cows of all colors, half-hidden in the grass, swishing their tails at flies with lazy contempt. It looked like something straight out of a children’s fantasy book. It looked like a home.

Adam was stupidly stunned by the beauty of it.

They came up to a house. It was white, all repaired corners and shabby shutters. It looked comfortably homey and exactly like the place where someone like Ronan Lynch might grow up. Ronan got out of the car and slammed the door behind himself.

“Not here,” he said, when Adam slid out of the car and stepped towards the house. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” Adam let the car door fall shut. Ronan walked around the car and past him to a tree heavily laden with odd fruit. He reached for the lowest hanging branch and plucked two fruits. He shoved one in his mouth and tossed the other one to Adam. Adam caught it between his two palms. It was warm and sticky to the touch.

Adam wasn’t hungry. He put the fruit in his pocket. “What kind of tree is that?”

“Imported,” Ronan said, through a mouthful of juice. “Come on.”

He turned on his heel and led Adam around the house to the largest barn, the only one that seemed to be in any state of use. Its double doors were open, with a few cows loitering between them. Adam and Ronan weaved through the rest of the herd as they made their way up the field.

One cow looked up from its grazing and mooed balefully at Ronan. It was very pretty, with a wide brown face and dull blue eyes. Ronan paused for a second to rub behind its ears. Then he strode through the barn doors, not even looking to see if Adam followed.

Inside, the barn was dark and damp, with the scent of grass and shit and grain in the air. A few cows were inside, but they were not like the others. They slept, some standing, some on the floor, some curled up like cats. They did not look up or stir at all when Ronan and Adam walked by.

Ronan stopped in front of a door that looked like it’d been added to the barn as an afterthought. Adam hadn’t noticed before, but now that Ronan had stopped moving he could see that Ronan was shifty, restless, like Noah on one of his good days but unhappy. He turned away from Adam and put his hand on the knob. “This was my father’s office,” he said.

Was. Adam hadn’t known Ronan’s father was dead.

Ronan opened the door.

The “office” could barely be considered that. It was a very small room, dimly lit by a single light bulb that hung from the low ceiling. There was a cushioned office chair with an old quilt thrown over it pushed up against a desk that looked more like a worktable than anything else; it was covered with so much dust and clutter that Adam couldn’t make himself focus on any of it.

Ronan went over to the table. He picked up what appeared to be a small, clear glass cube. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” he asked, handing it to Adam.

Adam looked at it. It was much heavier than he had expected, and upon closer inspection he saw that it had something inside of it: a flower that bloomed and died, bloomed and died, all while suspended in midair. Adam handed it back to him, confused. “No.”

Ronan grabbed another object from the table. “What about this?”

This one looked more like something you would find in a barn. It was a rusty hammer, and seemed completely normal except for the fact that it was both made of metal and was feather-light and feather-soft to the touch. “I haven’t,” Adam said slowly.

“My dad,” Ronan said, and those two words came out of him so raw that Adam had to look away for a few seconds. “My father, he made these things. Look.” Ronan tried to hand another object to Adam, but Adam wouldn’t take it.

“What are you trying to tell me?” he asked.

Ronan took the flower box and the hammer from Adam. His jaw set as he decided something. He never beat around the bush, Adam knew; he picked up a machete and obliterated it.

He turned away from Adam and braced his hands on the worktable. "I can take things out of my dreams," he said.

Adam must have misheard him. Or Ronan was messing with him. "Things?" he said.

"Lights,” Ronan said, turning around to face Adam. “The fucking glasses. Gansey's car. Chainsaw. Half the cows in that fucking field. Things."

Adam stared at Ronan. Ronan stared back, no amount of humor in his expression. Adam felt, all at once, a tilting vertigo as his brain tried to process this. Ronan, who was plagued by nightmares and insomnia, who refused to let Adam get too close. His pet raven that he'd previously claimed to have found. The strange knickknacks that littered his and Gansey’s apartment: the game controllers that needed no batteries, the generation-old mixtapes and CD’s, the plants that looked nothing like plants were supposed to look and that never needed watering.

The unsureness, the nervous heat in Adam's chest that came with the knowledge of something too big to contain, left him all at once.

"Whatever." Ronan said, already turning away from Adam, always turning away. "It's not that big of a deal."

"No," Adam said, but Ronan was already past him and at the door. "Ronan, stop. It makes sense."

Ronan stopped, his hand crushing on the door knob. "This makes sense to you?" he asked, his tone bristling, all of his defenses up.

Adam, ever the scholar, ever the scientist, felt better now that he knew. It was easy to accept that Ronan was a creature who could do this kind of thing, this impossible thing. It was easier to accept than Gansey's death and rebirth and Noah's ghostliness and the possibility of a king sleeping somewhere underground. Because Ronan wasn’t like other people. He wasn’t like anything else at all.

The more startling part of all this was that Ronan had told him.

"It makes sense," Adam repeated, careful like he was talking to a frightened animal. Ronan merely looked at him, his arms hugging each other over his chest. He raised an eyebrow, waiting. "It's surprising," Adam said, exasperated. Ronan was expecting him to spit out his reasons for accepting this, and Adam didn't know anything except that he just did. "But... it makes sense. I don't know. You're not giving me any time to process this. But I guess I get it." "You guess?" Ronan said. Adam frowned at him. "Are you just going to keep repeating everything I say to make me feel stupid?" "Maybe. No," Ronan said, and he laughed, the harshness of it betraying his anxiety.

“I mean,” Adam said, and paused. He was experiencing a mental block that refused to let him arrange his fragmented thoughts into sentences. “It’s makes sense that you can dream things into reality, but the actual dreaming part doesn’t make sense.”

“The fuck?” said Ronan.

Adam pushed his glasses up a little to rub at his eyes. “How does it actually work? Where do you get the things? How are they made? Do you even follow Newton’s third law?”

Ronan shrugged. “It’s connected to the ley line. Or I am. Same difference.”

Adam dropped his hands from his face. “What do you mean?”

Ronan pulled at the leather bands around his wrist. He looked almost self-conscious. “It calls me Greywaren.”

Adam stared at Ronan. Greywaren. It did not sound like an ordinary word, or even a word crafted in the language of humans. It sounded ancient, foreign, past the understanding of this time or place in the universe. It sounded magical.

It was the big secret. And it fit Ronan perfectly.

“Show me,” Adam said.

Ronan sighed. Then, pushing the door open into the rest of the barn, he almost smiled. “I knew you’d say that.”

+

Adam followed Ronan up to the front door of the house. He stood off to the side as Ronan flipped over the door mat - it read Welcome to Our Kingdom - and grabbed a key from underneath it.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit obvious?” Adam asked him.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Ronan said. “The only thing you have to worry about out here is bears.”

Adam shrugged and didn’t reply. What they were about to do felt too big for casual conversation.

Ronan pushed the door open with just enough force that it opened all of the way but didn’t hit the inside wall, like he’d done it before, like he’d done it a million times. He tucked the key back under the mat.

“Come on,” he said, though Adam was already stepping through the door.

The inside of the house looked much less magical, much more ordinary, but it still wasn’t what Adam had expected. Everywhere were things that had obviously lived more than one life, or had at least had a very difficult and damaging first one. A rusted key hook hung on the wall near the door, next to a rack holding dusty jackets and stiff raincoats. An oil painting of a forest hung on the wall opposite, framed by four shoddily nailed together pieces of wood.

“Come on,” Ronan said again, pushing past Adam and up the carpeted stairs, so fast Adam barely saw the kitchen and sitting room except for a few details: chipped, shabby cabinets; an antique vase full of flowers, a calendar, dull metal swords, too many rugs to count rolled up and pushed into a corner, a red rocking chair.

Ronan flicked on the light when he reached the top of the stairs and paused. Adam stopped, too, on the second-to-last step.

Ronan half-turned to look down at him, his arm braced against the wall. Adam watched the muscles in his arm tense and shift beneath his skin. His flower tattoo looked delicate and improbable on the thin skin of his hand.

“My room,” Ronan said, “is at the end. The last on the left.”

“Alright,” Adam said.

Ronan looked at him for a second, then turned and stared down the hall for a second longer. Then he pushed off the wall and walked down to the last door on the left. It fell open with the soft creak of mechanical tiredness.

The inside of Ronan’s room looked just like Ronan, except it was bright and personal at first glance instead of hiding what it contained. It was a cluttered mess of what Adam imagined to be the ideal childhood: toy trucks and mud-caked sneakers and expensive instruments forgotten on the floor, only half secured in their cases. A pair of swim goggles and four boxes of Legos and a giant stuffed bear. A twin-sized bed, with the comforter and pillows tucked in tight and a thick quilt thrown carelessly across it.

Ronan stepped into the room and, after another glance at Adam, he sat down on the bed.

Some things were not what Adam would have ever imagined: a teeter toy that swayed rapidly though nothing had disturbed it, a children’s book that lay face-up on the floor, its pages flipping back and forth as if pushed by a fan; the almost unnatural brightness and hue of the bedside lamp.

Adam walked over to the dresser. It was child-sized, only coming up to his hips. One of the drawers was half-open. Peeking out from it was a toy snake that blinked.

Adam looked at Ronan.

“Dream thing,” Ronan said. He was holding something small in his hand.

Adam went to sit beside him. The bed dipped under their weight. Ronan was warm against him.

Ronan rolled the thing between his thumb and finger. It was a green pill.

“If you want me to show you,” Ronan said, “I can use this.”

He said it like someone would say, if you want to see this snake bite me, I can put my hand in its mouth.

“What does it do?” Adam asked. He leaned in to get a better look at the pill, but there was nothing written on it, no dosage, no brand. Ronan’s breath ghosted over the back of his neck.

Ridiculously, Adam thought about turning his head and kissing Ronan. It had been on the back of his mind all day - it had been on the back of his mind for days - but it had been somewhat easy to ignore in the face of everything else going on. But in this small room, pressed against Ronan, it was hard to forget.

“I don’t really need it now, because I know how to take things out of my head, but when I was first learning I used these to make it easier. Now I just need it to fall asleep fast.”

“Is it safe?” Adam asked.

“It hasn’t killed me yet,” Ronan said. Then, “Kavinsky made them.”

“Kavinsky,” Adam said slowly. “He taught you.”

“Kind of,” Ronan admitted.

Adam wanted to ask what Kavinsky really was to Ronan. He wanted to know what Ronan really was to him. He wanted to kiss the complicated pull of Ronan’s mouth.

Ronan scooted away from Adam, then laid back on the bed. He was much too big for it; his height was all legs, and half of them hung off the end. Ronan rolled the pill between his thumb and forefinger. He glanced at Adam and away. “What do you want me to bring back?”

Adam half twisted his body to look at Ronan, his hands braced on the soft mattress, keeping him from toppling over every time Ronan shifted, trying to get comfortable. “You make it sound like you’re going to the grocery store.”

“So not a sandwich, then.”

“Bring back something you like,” Adam said. “Something magical.”

“Something magical,” Ronan repeated. He put the pill on his tongue. “Don’t watch if you’re gonna freak out,” he said.

“I’m not gonna freak out,” Adam told him.

Ronan closed his eyes. He swallowed the pill. His pulse visibly picked up, and stopped.

“Ronan,” Adam said.

Ronan did not move. He looked, for all intents and purposes, dead. Adam held his breath. He was not going to freak out.

With a violent jerk, Ronan came to life: his eyes shot open, the muscles in his arms seized, his pulse crashed again against the skin of his throat. Something green writhed in his hand. He looked from Adam to the thing in his hand, his eyes the only part of him moving with any semblance of control. After a moment of hesitation, Adam reached forward and took the impossible object from Ronan’s hands.

It was a plant. It had stopped writhing now that Adam had righted it, and its trailing vines, unencumbered by pot or soil, wrapped themselves around Adam’s wrist and fingers. It still swayed back and forth with more force than could be blamed on any breeze from the fan or air vents. With its mouth-like flowers, it snapped at the dust motes that lazily floated in the slats of sunlight coming in from the window.

Ronan sat up. “Fuck,” he said eloquently.

“You dreamt this,” Adam said, starting to freak out a little, unsure if he had really, truly believed Ronan could do it until he was holding the evidence in his hand. “It came from your head.”

“Yeah,” Ronan said. “I was going for a house plant lamp thing, but then I started thinking about how you’re always eating protein bars.” He reached a hand towards the plant, but drew back when it started to reach a vine towards him. “I think it’s sentient.”

“You can create something sentient?” Adam said.

“Chainsaw,” Ronan reminded him plainly.

Adam just sat there, staring between Ronan and the plant, feeling like he'd stepped into or stolen someone else's life. People like Ronan didn't just happen to you.

“I don’t think my dorm allows pets,” Adam said uneasily. As if it had heard him, the plant tightened its vines around him.

“Here,” said Ronan, reaching to untangle the plant. His fingers were surprisingly warm on Adam’s wrist. As soon as Ronan had reached forward, the plant had stretched a vine towards him and now it was as attached to Ronan as it was to Adam.

Adam kept himself still until he was finally free. Ronan disentangled the plant from himself and set it on his dresser, where it immediately began to grab drawer knobs and picture frames.

Ronan turned away from the dresser and faced Adam. “Do you believe me now?”

Adam nodded, a little overwhelmed by Ronan’s strangeness and a lot overwhelmed by the position they were both in: Adam, sitting on the bed, almost casually, and Ronan, still breathing hard from his dreaming, standing just a few inches in front of him. He doubted Ronan noticed, but he still felt himself flush.

Adam looked around. “What else in here is a dream thing?”

It was a lot, apparently. Ronan showed him iridescent spinning tops and fire-breathing toy dragons, and demonstrated how the strange and whimsical knickknacks on the windowsill worked. He tapped a rusted spout on the wall and out poured shiny candies. The plastic windmill standing beside a photo of Ronan and Gansey began to sing and dance when he blew on it.

“So, pretty much everything,” Ronan said. He sat back down on the bed, this time on the side far away from Adam. “There’s actually something I wanted you to look at.”

He reached under the bed and produced a shimmery, almost translucent looking blanket. Adam brought one leg up onto the bed and folded it under him, turning towards Ronan.

Ronan gathered the blanket in his arms and held it close to his chest. He didn’t turn to face Adam yet. “I dreamt it the night before Gansey and I left for college,” he said. “I think that it might help us find the faerie ring.”

Adam reached forward. He touched the blanket, then slid his fingers into the juncture between Ronan’s thumb and open palm, not sure of his intent or why he did it but sure that he didn’t want to move away. Ronan tilted his face down to the touch, his eyes veiled by long dark eyelashes.

“How does it work?” Adam asked, his voice a raspy thing in his throat.

“You put it around you, and, uh,” Ronan was red to the tips of his ears, and Adam couldn’t help the stupid, face-splitting smile that overcame him. “You see things. Or it helps you scry. I don’t really know.”

“Well,” Adam said. He pulled his hand away. He swallowed. “Let me try it.”

Ronan handed it to him. It was cool to the touch, and slipped against his skin like silk. He lifted it and swung it around to rest over his shoulders. Nothing immediately happened, so Adam ducked his head to completely cover himself.

“Wait,” Ronan said. “Keep your hand out. I’ll ground you, just in case.”

It was the practical thing to say, but it still made Adam flush.

He held Ronan’s hand, fingers interlaced tightly, wrist against wrist, rapid pulse against rapid pulse. He pulled the blanket all the way over his head. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he was in another world entirely.

Adam stood. He’d been crouching on the forest floor, and leaves and dust fell from his shoulders and hair as if he’d been there for a very long time. Maybe he had. He couldn’t remember.

He was in the Charlottesville forest they often ventured in, the one with the first faerie ring. Adam couldn’t see it, and he didn’t know where in the forest he was, but he somehow knew exactly how to find it.

He began walking. Everything about the forest was the same, and everything was different. The trees shifted and shuddered above him, every sound of their leaves brushing as clear and clean as water over rock.

Adam walked under them, stumbled among their great, twisting roots, an insignificant human. He felt as if he were in a state of over-conscious hypnagogia, seeing everything as too real and too dreamlike.

Dreamlike. That made him think of Ronan. He remembered Ronan, in the realest sense. He was back in the farmhouse with Adam’s body, with Adam, holding his hand and watching him intently so he didn’t get too far away.

But Adam didn’t feel like he’d get too far away. He felt like he couldn’t get far enough. Ronan had given him this thing, this thing that made everything so clear, and Adam was going to use it to get exactly what he needed.

He started walking faster. He would be at the ring in less than a minute, and there would be a faerie waiting for him. Adam would talk to it. They would understand each other. He would figure out how to get rid of it and get Noah back.

The trees shuddered and shuddered, sounding more frightening now. Adam stopped and looked up at them. They shook at him, menacingly. Leaves fell and fell but not one fell on Adam.

Stranger, a voice whispered. Unfamiliar. It was a tree, or trees. Of course it was. Of course it was. Of course-

“I’ve been here before,” Adam said. “This is exactly where I should be.”

And the trees were quiet. And Adam walked on.

He came to the faerie ring differently than he had before, in real life, or in whatever other dimension or time his real life was. There was no following of the stream downhill, and no picking across rocks to avoid soiling his shoes. Adam simply decided to arrive at the faerie ring, and he did.

But it wasn’t the right one. It was not even a ring; a single line of mushrooms and stones ran in an almost indiscernible curve across the beaten path Adam stood on. He stopped in front of them. He knew better than to step inside.

He turned around, and was unmistakably in Henrietta.

Adam didn’t need to look behind him to know he was still standing at the cusp of the new ring; he could feel its power, like he could feel the sun on his face and neck. Henrietta forest stretched out endlessly in front of him. Which meant that the giant ring was in Henrietta.

He started walking. He knew where the giant ring was now, but there was still something else he needed.

Standing alone on the path in front of him as if suddenly called into existence was a tree. An oak. It was gnarled, ancient, weathered by more than age. Adam stopped in front of it. There was a cavity rotted through it that looked more like a black hole than anything else. He put his hand to the edge, where the bark gave way to blackness, and it crumbled under his fingers, brittle as charcoal.

Somehow, Adam knew that he was supposed to step inside the tree. And once he knew, he did.

It was warm, and moist, and smelled like life and death at the same time. It was the smell of home, of too-hot summers spent in the car garage to avoid going inside, of baggy clothes and ugly bruises and forged doctor's notes; it was sudden and overwhelming, and it choked Adam with a sick sort of longing. He closed his eyes against it.

“Adam,” he heard Ronan say.

Adam knelt down. He pressed his hands into the dead foliage in front of him, feeling the moisture from the soil and moss on the forest floor seep into the knees of his jeans. He was no longer inside the tree.

He was aware of Ronan, far away inside the farmhouse, but here with Adam, too, a strange-looking little girl at his side. There was something blurry about them both, something just off enough that Adam couldn’t have mistaken it for the real Ronan.

Adam looked into himself. This was him, and the Adam in the tree was him, and the Adam sitting on Ronan’s bed was him. He felt so removed from himself, so much a stranger to who he was, confused as to whether it mattered which Adam he paid attention to.

This one. He would pay attention to this one, for now. For as long as it took.

Adam blinked, and kneeling in front of him on the other side of the ring was a faerie. It was shimmering, dead, emitting cold like a heater emitted warmth; scorching, everywhere. It opened its mouth, perhaps to say something, perhaps to cast a malicious spell. Its eyes were bright with feeling. Adam could see that it hated him. He could tell that it wanted him dead.

But it couldn’t hurt Adam, not here. There was nothing it could say to him that would help, nothing it could do to change anything. Adam didn’t need it after all; he knew what he was going to do. He had thought the faeries and what they wanted mattered, but they didn’t. He stood and turned away from the faerie.

He looked across the clearing and there was Gansey, looking incredibly substantial and real. He wore a crown and armor, and his expression was the most vivid thing in the forest.

For a moment - not even a moment, a fraction of a second - Adam regretted seeing Gansey like this, because he very acutely realized the second he laid eyes on him that this Gansey had power when Adam didn’t. There was something of the ley line under his skin, something like magic in his eyes.

The Adam in the forest understood what this meant.

He felt the ley lines pulse thrum frantically, desperately, in his own throat. Like it was taking one last breath. Like it was saying goodbye.

“Adam,” Gansey said joyously, “it’s time to wake up.”

+

Adam let the blanket fall from his shoulders. He gripped Ronan’s hand tightly. “The ring is here,” he said. “In that forest. Cabeswater. And I know how to destroy it.”

Ronan’s voice was barely a breath. “Calm down, you asshole,” he said. “You almost died.”

Adam looked at him. “What?”

Ronan made a noise like he was in pain. Then, using his crushing grip on Adam’s hand, he pulled Adam against him.

Instinctively, Adam drew into himself, folding his arms in against his stomach. But he didn’t pull away. Ronan held him close, one hand held captive between them, one arm around Adam’s back, his face pressed fever-hot into Adam’s neck.

“We have to stop,” Ronan said. He sounded angry. “We have to tell Gansey before we do anything else.”

“I’m fine, Ronan,” Adam said, startled.

“You almost died,” Ronan said again. “You stopped breathing for a few seconds.”

There was anger in Ronan’s voice, that emotion Adam knew well. But under it was fear. Fear for Adam.

Slowly, he brought his free hand up to touch the nape of Ronan’s neck. He thought about flattening his hand and pulling Ronan tighter against him, and what that would mean. He did.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said. “I got carried away.”

Ronan was quiet for a few moments, and Adam was quiet, and they were both very still, just listening to each other’s breaths. Adam could feel Ronan against him. His grip was crushing around Adam’s hand and back, and his face was pressed against Adam’s skin.

Adam could feel Ronan’s cheeks, his lips. He scratched lightly at the back of Ronan’s neck and felt his eyelashes flutter.

Ronan’s grip around Adam shifted, causing his shirt to ride up. Adam felt the shocking warmth from the tips of fingers on his bare skin. Ronan didn’t move for a moment, and Adam made some sort of embarrassing noise. Then Ronan rode his fingers up the bumps of Adam’s spine.

“Ronan,” Adam said, and his voice broke off halfway through the name.

Ronan leaned back and looked at Adam. Adam didn’t let go of the back of his neck. Ronan slid his hand from Adam’s back over and up to cup his cheek.

Adam closed his eyes. Ronan kissed him, and kissed him, and Adam felt the faerie ring, not too far away, alive and hateful between them.

[pogueman]

Inside the Amazon company that's even bigger than Amazon.com

Everybody knows what “the cloud” is, right? It’s, like, internet storage or something? Sure. Yeah.

I wanted to go a little deeper. I wanted to know exactly what it is, where it is, who owns it, who runs it, and how it works. So I did a little travel, conducted some interviews—and last Sunday, “CBS Sunday Morning” aired my story. You can watch it here.

The “who runs it” part has a particularly interesting answer. In large part, the answer to that is, “Amazon” (AMZN).

Over the last decade, Amazon has quietly built up the world’s largest cloud-services company, called AWS (Amazon Web Services). In terms of income and profit, it’s much bigger than Amazon.com (the division that sells stuff by mail-order).

It’s also much bigger than its rivals, which include Microsoft (MSFT), IBM (IBM), and Google (GOOG, GOOGL); in fact, AWS says that it’s bigger than its next 14 competitors combined.

Most companies don’t like to reveal what cloud-services company they use, but here are a few companies that don’t mind saying that they run on AWS: Hulu, Netflix, Comcast, Spotify, Pinterest, Yelp, Airbnb, Slack, PBS, SmugMug, Hertz, Time, Intuit, Unilever, Zillow, Dow Jones, Morningstar, Under Armour, Kellogg’s, Expedia, Adobe, Philips, GE, Shell, AOL, BMW, Canon, Capital One, IMDb, Johnson & Johnson, Lamborghini, Lyft, McDonald’s, NASA, Novartis, Pfizer, Philips, Samsung, SAP, Sony, SoundCloud, Ticketmaster, and the US Department of State.

For the TV story, I had the rare opportunity to interview an Amazon executive: Dr. Matt Wood. His current title is general manager for artificial intelligence AWS, but he’s been part of AWS from the beginning. (I asked him if the “Dr.” meant medical doctor or PhD doctor. In Wood’s case, both. He started his career as a medical doctor.)

As always happens, though, the time constraints of TV meant that not all of the good stuff from our interview made it into the broadcast. So here, for your reading pleasure, is a more complete edited transcript of my interview with Dr. Wood.

Dr. Matt Wood (right) joined me for a “CBS Sunday Morning” interview at Amazon’s Seattle headquarters.

POGUE: Because AWS caters to businesses, not ordinary consumers, most consumers haven’t heard of it. But it’s giant, right?

WOOD: It’s a relatively large business today. We’re a little over $16 billion in revenue run rate [projected income for 2017], and we’re growing at just over 40% a year.

POGUE: So who had the foresight, when AWS started, to say, “You know what could be really a good business for us…?”

WOOD: It actually came out of Amazon retail. The developers inside Amazon retail wanted to be able to move more quickly. They were frustrated about having to write big checks [to buy new server equipment] and wait and wait and wait [for them to be delivered], and do all this extra work to be able to try out their idea.

And so we started to come up with some ideas about how we could make that faster. And so we started to explore an entirely new business for us, selling these services to businesses in the same way as Amazon was consuming them.

POGUE: So all of these companies are hiring AWS to do what?

WOOD: They are able to pull down computational power as if it was a utility.

So let’s say you’re a brewery, right? They don’t want to manage computers. They want to brew beer. They don’t want to be going through the expense and the upfront cost and all the complexity of managing these large amounts of computers.

POGUE: So it sounds like cloud companies like AWS are basically renting computers, storage, power, security—all the stuff that technicians would have normally had to do on site, right?

WOOD: That’s right, yes.

AWS is relatively unknown to consumers—but it’s by far the largest piece of Amazon.

POGUE: Are you also saying there was a time before cloud companies when people did all this stuff in house?

WOOD: Yeah. People often talk about the “heavy lifting” of building web applications or mobile applications. Well, back when I was doing my Ph.D., we were given the task—a group of Ph.D. students—to move a mainframe computer from one room to another.

This thing weighed — it must have been several tons. It took about eight wimpy nerds to try to lift it. We dropped it, and it got stuck in the doorway. (LAUGH) We had to get the university football team to come in and help us move it out of the way before our professors came back and found us!

POGUE: (Laugh) Literal heavy lifting!

WOOD: So it’s not like that today. All I need is an AWS account and a credit card, and I can start trying out new ideas, for pennies.

And larger organizations find the same benefits. And so today, very large organizations such as, you know, GE, Shell, Phillips, Netflix, all run on top of AWS.

POGUE: Really? Netflix?

WOOD: Yes.

POGUE: Wait. Amazon has a very similar business—Amazon Prime Video. Why would Netflix hire its arch-rival to store and serve up its movies?

WOOD: Well, that’s a good question. It’s one that Netflix asked us very early on. (LAUGH) From the very first day of AWS, we set up the company as a separate business. We have a separate management chain; we are situated in a separate building.

We even wanted companies that could potentially compete with Amazon.com—our cousins at retail—to be able to use the same platform. And so to AWS, Amazon.com is just another customer.

POGUE: Is there a downside to the cloud idea? Is there any reason that somebody might shy away from structuring their data this way?

WOOD: The only reason I can really think of is that some companies have already made those very, very large investments in their own data centers. They’ve signed the checks, they’ve done the waiting, they’ve racked and stacked their service. And so they’ve already made that investment.

POGUE: So suppose I’m one of these companies who’s got an existing computer setup, and I want to move to AWS…

WOOD: Yeah. There’s a couple of ways that you can do that. You can just upload it as normal. But sometimes you have so much data [that it would take forever to transmit electronically]. So we built this device–the Snowball.

(He shows me a suitcase-size, gray, plastic-enclosed case.)

The AWS Snowball can be a faster, cheaper way to send a company’s data to Amazon than uploading it.

POGUE: Snowball, you call it?

WOOD: It’s 100 terabytes of storage. And you just connect this up to your data center, load your data on. And then you just physically ship it back to us, and then we load it into the cloud from our data center.

POGUE: Ship it, like through FedEx or UPS or something—

WOOD: Exactly. You should never underestimate the bandwidth of a FedEx truck. (LAUGH) In fact, right on the front here, you can see that we have an e-ink display—basically, a Kindle—which shows the customer’s address when we ship it out to them. And then as soon as they arrive and plug it in, [the address on that screen changes to show] our data center collection location, and you just ship it back to us.

POGUE: Oh, this—this is a screen, this is not paper—

WOOD: Exactly, yes. Because we didn’t want the shipping labels to come off in transit.

POGUE: So essentially, this is like a giant shippable hard drive. Can you track it?

WOOD: Yeah; it has 3G, Wifi, and also a GPS system.

POGUE: But hard drives are delicate. What if the shipper guy drops it?

WOOD:  We built them to be robust and ruggedized. We actually built them to military specifications. We put them on a boat in the middle of a lake and then exploded depth charges around the boat and then made sure they could still work.

POGUE:  Can it handle a drop to concrete?

WOOD:  Easily, no worries.

POGUE:  Like this?  (I shoved the Snowball off the table onto the concrete floor, where it just bounced and then lay flat) It’s okay, folks! It doesn’t have a scratch on it. I don’t know about the floor, though.

WOOD: (LAUGHS)

How AWS handles security

POGUE: OK, we gotta talk about security. I imagine you have a huge staff of experts?

WOOD: Yeah. I mean, security really is job zero for us. We take it extremely seriously. It’s the first thing that we think about when we get up in the morning, it’s the last thing we think about when we go to bed.

POGUE: Because “the cloud” actually resides in data centers—huge, unmarked buildings running thousands of servers. And one AWS data center may house the livelihoods of a bunch of companies, all concentrated in one building.

WOOD: Actually, we don’t even store all of the data in one place. We don’t have a single data center. We use groups of data centers. And those groups of data centers are separated by large distances. They’re on separate floodplains and fault lines. We move data automatically between the data centers in those groups. And that means the data is always backed up, not just inside a data center or between data centers, but between groups of data centers in different physical locations.

POGUE: So I don’t mean to give anyone ideas, but let’s say I figured out that one of these unmarked buildings was an AWS data center, and I blew it up. Are you saying that it’s so backed up and redundant that you probably wouldn’t notice?

WOOD: Yeah, you wouldn’t notice. I mean, we might be a bit upset, but you wouldn’t notice.

POGUE: That leads into my other question, which is that 70% of the cloud, 70% of the world’s internet traffic, flows through data centers in Loudoun County, Virginia. Should we be worried about that concentration?

70 percent of the world’s Internet data flows through the massive data centers in Loudon County, Virginia. (CBS News)

WOOD: No, that data is backed up across multiple different physical locations. And we do that to limit the blast radius. If something does happen, or we have a power event, or there’s a flood in one specific location, that data is held redundantly in other locations, as well. So the cloud just keeps running.

POGUE: How is each physical AWS data center protected?

WOOD: The first thing is that we control personnel extremely tightly. So although I’ve been at Amazon nearly 10 years, I’ve never visited one of our data centers. I’ve never stepped foot inside them. I don’t even know their addresses.

POGUE: Because you’re not allowed to?

WOOD: Because I’m not allowed to, yeah. I don’t have any reason to be there. And a data center’s primary vector of insecurity is physical attacks. So you don’t want people there that don’t need to be there.

Beyond that, obviously we have all of the controls—the concrete, the guards, the bars—to prevent and mediate and evaluate physical access to the security. If you don’t need to be in there, you don’t get in.

POGUE: One of the data center managers told me that one reason we’ve never heard of terrorists attacking a data center is that they’re interested in terror—and that’s attacking people, not things. That a data center is just a bunch of machinery that’s easily repaired and replaced.

WOOD: Easily repaired, easily replaced, and can cause no disruption whatsoever.

POGUE: What about hacks? You know, Equifax, Sony, and other big companies being hacked. Does that have anything to do with the cloud and the way it’s structured?

WOOD: Only in that we provide developers the tools to prevent these sorts of attacks. So you can go in and very quickly protect all of your data. You can encrypt all of your data. And we even provide machine learning tools that evaluate the risk associated with your data.

So we can identify, with customers’ permission, a difference between a webpage, which is OK to deliver, or Social Security numbers and personally identifiable information. And then we continuously monitor for differences in how that data is accessed. And if we find an anomalous access, then we alert both automatic remediation and people, so they can go investigate.

POGUE: Then how do these hacks happen?

WOOD: In a variety of ways. The most common way is social engineering—trying to figure out someone’s password through nefarious processes. So calling up and saying that you are the telephone operator and you’re asking for their password, for example, and then the person just giving it to you. So it’s much more common for those sorts of attacks to be propagated.

POGUE: So the weak link turns out to be us.

WOOD: As it so often is.

More from David Pogue:

The $50 Google Home Mini vs. the $50 Amazon Echo Dot — who wins?

The Fitbit Ionic doesn’t quite deserve the term ‘smartwatch’

Augmented reality? Pogue checks out 7 of the first iPhone AR apps 

iOS11 is about to arrive — here’s what’s in it 

MacOS High Sierra comes this fall—and brings these 23 features

T-Mobile COO: Why we make investments like free Netflix that ‘seem crazy’

How Apple’s iPhone has improved since its 2007 debut

Gulliver’s Gate is a $40 million world of miniatures in Times Square

Samsung’s Bixby voice assistant is ambitious, powerful, and half-baked

Is through-the-air charging a hoax?

David Pogue, tech columnist for Yahoo Finance, is the author of “iPhone: The Missing Manual.” He welcomes nontoxic comments in the comments section below. On the web, he’s davidpogue.com. On Twitter, he’s @pogue. On email, he’s poguester@yahoo.com. You can read all his articles here, or you can sign up to get his columns by email. 

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What sparked the idea for automotive photography?

What Sparked the Idea for Automotive Photography? I’m very passionate about cars. I’ve met very few people who are as interested in cars as I am. If I’m driving and I see a Lamborghini, I will go out of my way to get pictures of it for my Facebook page. I consider it more of an obsession than a passion, as I wrote in my first blog post, I have eight tattoos that are all related to cars. I posted a lot of car pictures to my personal Facebook page because I wanted to share the thing I love so much with everyone, but I started to realize that some people weren’t a huge fan of having their Facebook feed filled with pictures of cars. So, that day I started a Facebook page to hold all of my car pictures and named it “Lee Nagorski Automotive Photography”. Originally, I didn’t have any goals for it other than just a place to store all of my pictures, but I noticed that people started to like the page and the pictures and the more I posted, I slowly start to gain more likes on the page. Once I reached about 50 likes on the page, I realized there was potential in it. I had a lot of car pictures from just snapping quick pictures of cars I saw on the streets, but I thought it was time to kick it up a notch. I started to contact car dealerships and asking if it would be possible to come by and take some pictures, the first dealership I contacted was Sherwood Park Chevrolet so I could get some pictures of the Corvettes they had on the lot, they gladly let me come by and take some pictures. The second dealership I contacted was Ford. The mistake I made with Ford was not emailing or calling ahead of time, I just showed up and asked to take pictures. They allowed me to take pictures of the Mustangs in the show room, but nothing else. Those were the only two dealerships with performance cars in my area, so I edited those pictures with my very limited editing knowledge back then posted them. – Knowing that my well would soon run dry, I needed to get more pictures. I knew where the higher income neighbourhoods, so I took my camera and began going for walks, sometimes 8 hours in a day, to find some cars parked, or driving, to get pictures of. Some days I would find Lamborghini’s and Ferrari’s, other days I would be out for 5 hours and find nothing. I continued doing this for about a year. After i reached around 4,000 followers, I started to reach out to the mid-range dealerships such as Audi, BMW, and Mercedes. The dealership out of the three I contacted that let me come by and treated me incredibly well was Audi Edmonton North. During my first visit with them, they allowed me to start up an Audi R8 (I was smiling the rest of the day). That was my first taste of the exotic car world I’m so passionate about. Nearly two years later I still maintain a good relationship with them. I’ve had the opportunity to drive multiple performance cars, including an RS7 because of them, and for that I’ll be forever grateful (I’ve since moved to Calgary and have some exciting things happening with the Audi dealership here) The pictures I took while at Audi gave me a bit of a boost and helped me reach 7,500 followers. Once I reached that number, I took a chance and thought I would email some of the bigger dealerships. I grabbed my laptop, found the emails of the owners/GM’s/Sales Managers at Ferrari and Lamborghini. Honestly, I was not expecting a response at all. A couple of hours later I received an email from the owner of the Ferrari dealership in Calgary. I was in complete shock. After making sure I wasn’t dreaming, I read the email. He said he would be okay with me coming down to take a few pictures of the cars. I went to Calgary with a couple of friends that following weekend and went straight to the Ferrari dealership. As soon as I arrived I was welcomed, introduced to everyone, shown around, and then I got to the cars. I was expecting just to take a few pictures and then leave, but they exceeded my expectations. They started up most of the cars in the showroom for me, let me & the two friends I brought along sit in them, and even took me out in a Rolls-Royce Ghost. Just as with Audi, I still maintain a relationship with them and have since been able to drive a few of their cars. *Lamborghini did not contact me. Ever since then I’ve reached 50,000 followers, and I continue to go to the same dealerships I’ve been working with while building new relationships with other dealerships to create content. I am excited with what is happening right now, and will have some great content soon with the dealerships I am working with. Thanks for reading and come back tomorrow for a new post!