#oh my god. i was also looking at this scent called porcelain pulse with a carrot top note... black tea... pear... rhubarb.... cardamom.....

[hightaled]

why is perfume so expensive

[emospritelet]

Temptation

This is my second Monsterfuckers’ Ball fic, following on from the Macacey smut in Part 1. Having seduced Father MacAvoy, Lacey goes to find one of her own kind. The pawnbroker has been expecting her.

[Part 1] [AO3]

The moment she stepped into Storybrooke, he felt it, a tickle at the nape of his neck, a creeping tingle running down his spine, as though someone was whispering his name from the shadow realm. His true name. It had been years since he had used it. He called himself Gold, when the humans asked, as so many of them did. They were curious creatures, using up their short lives in a frenzy of eating and drinking and fucking, with precious few taking the time to acquire knowledge of the old ways. Lucky for him, he supposed.

He had not seen one of his own in years, ever since he had carved out a large and lonely territory in Maine. Isolation was one of the reasons for coming so far to the north-east of the country, but he had to admit that a slower pace of life was also something he enjoyed, having passed relatively unscathed through the rage and recklessness of his youth. There were too many incubi clustered in Las Vegas and Los Angeles, and he much preferred the relative peace of small town Storybrooke. Solitary by nature, there were only three reasons he could think of for another of his kind to seek him out. It had not happened in some time, and the last encounter had ended in violence and death. For the intruder, anyway.

He pushed the porcelain cup he had been dusting back on its shelf, getting down from the stepladder and striding to the door of his shop. It was cold outside, a stiff breeze blowing from the south west, and he lifted his nose, catching a scent on the breeze. A succubus: a female. That didn’t mean she wasn’t there to challenge him, of course, nor did it mean that she didn’t want his assistance in some dark ritual. However, there was an edge to her scent, something that made his skin tingle and his cock swell in his pants. So. She wanted to mate.

He stepped back into his shop, closing the door behind him and walking to the back room. It was unlikely she would approach him until she was ready, and he certainly had no objection to that. She would need to find a partner first, and take the seed from him, the first step in creating a demon child. There would need to be at least a little planning and preparation before that could occur, unless of course she decided to go to that dive of a bar and grab the first desperate drunk she could find. There were certainly enough of those in Storybrooke, but he hoped that her taste would be a little better. He certainly wasn’t keen to touch the likes of Keith Nottingham, even if only by proxy.

It was somewhat ironic, he reflected, that his kind were dependent on humans to reproduce, but the process itself was certainly pleasant. It had been decades since he had been approached by one of his own for the purpose, and he wondered what form she had chosen to make her way in this world. Humans offered little in the way of temptations of the flesh, in his opinion, but he had grown used to them, and had something of a preference for petite brunettes. His mind wandered briefly south, to New York, and his latest deal for a first edition Oscar Wilde. He licked his lips at the memory of clear blue eyes and a soft voice, shapely limbs and small feet. Petite brunettes with a love of reading and a penchant for impractical footwear, then.

Smirking to himself, he took a seat at the workbench, bending to look over the old watch he was preparing for sale. It would no doubt take his would-be partner a little while to complete the first stage of the process. He had time on his hands until then.

x

It was six days later that it happened.

He could sense a change in the air, a pulsing electricity that coursed through his skin and made the hairs on his arms rise. He had been working late, cataloguing the latest collection of antiques that he had purchased. The other shops in Storybrooke had long since closed, the time inching past midnight, but he was still there, clad in the slim-fitting suit and tie he had adopted as part of his human persona. The silk he wore felt pleasant, a sensual softness against his skin, but he would shed it in an instant for the one coming to him.

He stood, walking through to the main shop and turning to glance at his reflection in the mirror that hung behind the counter. Brown hair fell around his face. streaked with silver at the temples. He was not a tall man, but the humans were nonetheless wary, keeping their distance even when they sought him out to make their petty excuses and to beg him to buy their trinkets. They still seemed to fear him, despite him speaking in low tones and showing his teeth in cold smiles. Perhaps they could sense the darkness in him. It mattered not.

The shop doorbell tinkled, and he smiled, the low light from the lamps gleaming on the one gold tooth he wore as he took in the reflection over his shoulder. She was small and pale, dark chestnut hair falling around her shoulders in shining waves. A short black dress hugged her slender figure, her legs long and shapely. High-heeled shoes lifted her a few inches taller than she would otherwise have been, but her height was perfect. She was perfect. A delightful human form, to be sure. She reminded him of someone, but he shoved the image away before it could interfere with the matter at hand. Something to think on later.

“What’s your name?” he asked, and her full lips curved in a soft, secretive smile.

“Lacey,” she said. “What’s yours?”

“Rumplestiltskin,” he whispered.

He turned to face her, and she pursed her lips, walking slowly towards him with her hips swaying invitingly.

“Quite a mouthful,” she said, and her eyes flicked up and down him, lingering between his legs for a moment. “I do appreciate a long - name.”

His grin widened, and he gestured to the curtain that covered the doorway to the back room.

“Would you care to come through?”

“I would.”

She walked past him, hips still swinging and her tight rear end twitching. He caught a whiff of her scent as she passed, and let out a low, guttural growl of arousal, his cock pushing against his underwear, eager to get inside her. He followed her through, letting the curtain fall behind him and looking her over slowly before meeting her stare for stare. The dress she wore clung to her curves, slashes at the neck revealing the pale skin beneath. He longed to uncover every inch of that skin, to let his tongue flicker over her and taste her. Who had she chosen, in the end? Whose seed did she carry? His cock was growing harder, throbbing, insistent, and he licked his lips, leaning in to let his nostrils flare, drawing in the mingled scents. His eyes widened, and he drew back.

“You chose the priest?” he said, surprised, and she grinned, raising her chin.

“I always did like what was forbidden to me,” she said. 

“How did you manage to enter the church?” he asked. “Bit of a risky prospect.”

Lacey reached into the neckline of her dress and tugged at a thin gold chain, pulling out a round, dark stone. It swung back and forth on the chain, seeming to eat the light around it.

“Brimstone amulet,” she said carelessly.

“Ah.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Providing temporary protection from consecrated ground. A tricky thing to make. Don’t you need the tears of an angel, or something ridiculous?”

“You know your amulets,” she said, looking impressed, and he inclined his head.

“I’m in the trade, as it were,” he said. “A rare item. Difficult to procure.”

Lacey shrugged, kicking off her shoes and wriggling her toes on the wooden floor.

“I know a demon who knows an angel.”

“A useful contact,” said Gold. “Perhaps you and I can do some business.”

She looked him up and down very deliberately, and raised her chin.

“There’s only one deal I’m looking to make tonight.”

“Indeed.” Gold took off his jacket, shaking it out before hanging it on the nearby coat rack. “Perhaps you should take it off for the duration, though. Dark magic mixed with light - well, those things can be volatile.”

“Point taken.”

She reached behind her, unfastening the clasp of the gold chain, and set the necklace on the desk behind her. Gold was intrigued, and wanted to study it further, but he doubted she would let him. Perhaps they could make a deal for another in the future, though.

“The amulet was effective in getting to the priest, I take it?” he said, and she pursed her lips.

“As much as it needed to be,” she said. “It gives off a scent, of course, but then they burn a lot of incense in these places, so I guess he didn’t notice.”

“Well, perhaps his mind was on other things,” said Gold, looking her over. “And he a man of God. For shame.”

Lacey smirked.

“Oh, I’ve had many a priest, in my time,” she said softly. “All supposedly holy men. All eager to get a taste of me, and most without me offering. I clearly wasn’t the first they had touched. Just the first to fight back.”

Gold chuckled.

“That must have been an - interesting - experience for them,” he said, and Lacey’s eyes gleamed, blue as moonlight.

“I’d like to say they had a chance to reflect on the sin of forcing those in their power to endure their touches,” she said. “But they didn’t. I took what I needed and sucked the life from them. Ironic, really.”

“Father MacAvoy doesn’t strike me as that type,” he remarked, and she shook her head, her mouth twisting a little.

“No, not him,” she said. “He’s a good man, not like the rest of them. Although it has to be said he didn’t put up much of a challenge. Some initial protest for my poor soul. It didn’t stop him fucking me.”

“Well, I could hardly blame him,” said Gold lazily. “Take off the dress.”

“Why don’t you come here and take it off?”

He licked his lips, a low growl rumbling out of him. Lacey’s breath caught, her eyes widening, and he could sense the excitement rising within her, making the air around him spark and tingle. Stepping forward, he reached for her, hands sliding over her hips as his mouth found hers. Lacey moaned, grasping at him, her fingers pushing through his hair as her nails scored his scalp. It made him growl again, and he shoved her against the wall, his tongue pushing into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her as he slipped one leg between hers, his thigh pushing up against her groin.

Lacey moaned again, thrusting her hips, rubbing herself against him, and her hands slid down from his hair to grasp his tie, plucking it open and tearing it from around his neck. Gold cupped her breasts with his hands, pulling his mouth from hers to nip at her jaw, his tongue stroking against her throat, tasting the salt of light perspiration and breathing in the scent that had drifted into his nose six days earlier. The scent that told him of her need. 

He reached down, gripping the hem of the dress and tugging it up her body, and Lacey raised her arms as he stepped back to pull it over her head. Her body was pale and smooth, her breasts tipped with dusky pink nipples, and as he watched a pattern of shining blue scales rippled over her skin, her demon form coming through in her excitement. She was beautiful, her body firm and lithe and perfect, and he growled again as he ran his eyes over her. The scent of her pleasure was strong, making his cock throb and his balls ache. She would have drawn the seed deep inside her, holding it there until it could be released. Until he opened her up and took it from her. His tongue flicked against his teeth, eager to taste her, and he jerked his head to the side.

“On the bench,” he rasped.

Lacey smirked, pushing past him with a sway of her hips, her hair gleaming in the light as she turned on bare toes to face him. She reached behind her, boosting herself up onto the workbench with the heels of her hands, her breasts bouncing as she did so. Gold reached up, letting one finger bend slowly forward, and she lowered herself onto her back, arching up off the bench as she drew up her knees. He stepped forward and ran his hands up her slender calves, fingers sliding over her knees and pulling them apart. 

The soft cleft at the apex of her thighs was glistening with fluid, and he let his hands stroke up her legs, pushing them further apart, baring her to his sight and his touch. Gold let his tongue grow long and tapered, flicking it over the soft skin of her inner thighs, moving up with gentle, rhythmic strokes. Lacey moaned as he licked her, circling the sensitive nub at the top of her cleft. His tongue flickered over her wet flesh, and he could taste the priest on her, musk and salt and a certain human sharpness. He let the tongue push inside her, sliding deep to where the taste of salt was stronger, and felt his cock grow harder as he recognised her need, as he tasted the seed inside her. He let it thrust in and out, licking against the barrier of her flesh, the tip probing the tight entrance to her inner chamber where she held the seed.

Lacey moaned, pushing her hips upward, and he growled deep in his throat, his tongue teasing her as he tried to find a way inside. She wouldn’t open for him until he was inside her, until his cock was buried deep within her and he was ready to burst, but the teasing felt good, his tongue pushing at her, circling and swirling. He pulled it back a little, rubbing against her inner walls, and she let out a cry of pleasure, her fingers twisting in his hair. She was close. She was ready. It wouldn’t take long. His tongue slipped out again, dripping with her juices, dancing over her skin before he swallowed her down, and he straightened up, shrugging out of his waistcoat and bending to take off his shoes. He wanted to be in his true form for this. 

Lacey let out a low growl, writhing on the bench as he shed his clothing, her rapid breathing and bright eyes showing that she was eager for his touch. Tiny scales bloomed to life on her face and chest, spreading over her skin in patches of glittering blue and silver, and he heard his own growl rumble outward as her long tongue flicked out, tasting his scent in the air. He tore off his shirt, pushing down pants and underwear in one, noting the scales rippling up from his fingers and coating his forearms in gleaming gold. Lacey scooted backwards a little, long tail sweeping out from behind and lashing the air. He could feel his own break free, stroking up her legs as he climbed onto the bench on his knees. She pushed up on the heels of her hands, plump breasts heaving as she licked her lips.

Gold ran his hands up her thighs, pushing them apart and sliding his fingers beneath her buttocks to pull her upwards. His fingertips dug into her skin, black claws sinking into her. Lacey let out a high-pitched cry, arching her back, pushing up to meet him as her head rolled back, and he felt the head of his cock push at the soft heat of her entrance. His balls ached, hanging low and heavy, rubbing against her, and he let out a low groan as he thrust inside her, sliding deep. She purred, running her hands up his arms and over his shoulders to plunge into his hair. He felt his tail stroke against hers, and let it wrap around her ankle, tugging it upwards to let him push deeper.

His cock was buried deep inside her, and he let it lengthen further as his hips pumped and he thrust hard and fast, ramming against the firm barrier of flesh that her body had created, seeking to break through. Lacey moaned and writhed, legs wrapping around his back, her tail twisting around his, her body now covered in glittering blue scales and her eyes gleaming like moonlight. He kissed her again, long tongue stroking her mouth as he pushed and thrust, feeling her heat and her wetness coating him, feeling her begin to open up, that tiny hole starting to widen, squeezing the head of his cock as it pushed inside. He felt as though he was going to burst, pleasure coursing through him, and he groaned into her mouth as he came hard, his cock pulsing, shooting hot seed into her.

She tore her mouth from his with a shriek as she came, and he felt a rush of fluid all around him as she let him enter her fully, releasing the priest’s seed to mix with his. It felt incredible, and he let his balls contract, reversing the flow of fluid as the tingle of their strange dark magic tickled at his skin. His cock pumped, drawing the hot seed from her body and into his, the feel of it intensifying his orgasm, making pleasure crash through him. He growled and snarled, tail lashing in his excitement as his balls grew heavy with seed once more, and Lacey dug her nails into his shoulders as she pumped against his cock, helping him draw every drop from her. Her flesh was clamped around the head so hard it was exquisitely painful, but he felt her relax a little as he took the last from her, as he drew the seed deep and kept it safe.

He let out a low, guttural groan as he slowed to a stop, his head hanging, and Lacey murmured contentedly, her tail uncurling from around his leg to stroke over his back. Its touch was gentle, almost affectionate, and he shivered a little as it brushed over his legs and licked at the soles of his feet. She released him with a sudden softening of her flesh, letting him pull out of her, and he pushed up on his hands, licking his lips as he looked down. Her scales were fading a little, the human form showing through in pale patches, and she sent him a slow smile, eyelids fluttering.

“That was fucking awesome,” she drawled, and he grinned.

“Glad to be of service.”

He pushed back, getting down from the bench and pulling on his clothes, the shop feeling cold after the heat they had shared. Lacey watched him, leaning on her elbows, dark curls tumbling over pale shoulders.

“I never did this before,” she admitted. “Not with the goal of actually reproducing in mind, anyway. Not with someone like you.”

“Someone like us, you mean?” he said, tying his shoes with practised tugs of his fingers.

“Yeah.” She stretched languidly, pointing her toes. “It felt different with you. Fucking ordinary men has its pleasures, I guess, but there’s the danger I might just get a little over-excited.”

“Leaving a very dead human in your wake,” he agreed. “Self-control is one of the first things you need to learn as a demon, if you want to survive in their world.”

“Oh, I only do it to the ones that deserve it,” she said. “It’s not my fault their souls are more delicious than their personalities, right?”

He had to grin at that.

“I daresay you’re doing the rest of the world a favour,” he said. “There are a few in this town who would benefit from your attention, if you feel the need.”

“Nah, I’m good.” She stretched again. “Maybe if I swing by this way again.”

“Maybe so.”

He straightened up, pulling on his shirt and feeling the pleasant whisper of silk against his skin. Lacey slipped from the bench, snatching up her dress and pulling it over her head.

“Are you leaving right away?” he asked. “You’re welcome to stay and have a drink. I find myself in the mood to be unexpectedly sociable.”

Lacey shook her head, looking regretful.

“I’d better get back,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “There’s a ritual I was planning on being a part of. I just had an itch that needed scratching before I could concentrate properly on summoning dark powers, you know what I mean?”

“Concentration is important in these things, I find,” he said.

“Yeah.” She pursed her lips. “And it was a pretty distracting itch. Made it hard to think about anything other than getting well and truly fucked.”

“Then I’m happy to have scratched it,” he said smoothly.

He zipped his fly, buckling his belt. His balls were very full, and his pants were a little tight because of it, making him very aware of what he had just done, and what he still needed to do. It made his lust rise up once more, his desire to perform the final part of the dark dance of creation swelling within him. His cock twitched, and Lacey watched him with a knowing smirk, her head tilted to the side and her expression curious.

“Who’s it gonna be?” she asked. “I mean it’s none of my business, but you’ve got your eye on someone, right?”

“Perhaps.”

“Hmm.”

She stepped into her shoes, running fingers through her curls in an attempt to tame them, and tugged her dress straight.

“Is it someone from the town?” she asked, and he shook his head, buttoning his shirt.

“No,” he said. “Not someone from the town.”

“Well, that’s always better, I guess,” she said. “What does she look like?”

Gold smiled.

“Actually, she looks a lot like you,” he said. “Brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, soft pink lips… Delicious in every way. Or so I predict.”

“Really?” She looked pleased at that. “You have a type, huh?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said. “I’m hoping the encounter will be every bit as pleasant as this one. I shall certainly endeavour to make it so.”

“Well, accept my congratulations in advance,” she said, shaking out her hair. “She going to be willing, you think?”

Gold showed his teeth.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

She smirked in response, and stepped towards him, her hips swinging back and forth. He tugged his waistcoat closed, and Lacey ran her hands up his chest, rising up on her toes as she placed a soft kiss on his mouth. She sank back on her heels, looking very self-satisfied.

“I’m gonna get out of here,” she said. “Look me up if you’re ever in Memphis.”

Gold grinned at that.

“I don’t really get out much.”

“Bit of a loner, hmm?”

“Aren’t we all?”

She chuckled softly, and stepped back, brushing herself down and letting out a heavy, contented sigh.

“Goodbye, Rumplestiltskin,” she said, and sauntered off.

He heard the cheerful tinkle of the shop’s bell as she left, and finished buttoning his waistcoat, crossing to the standing mirror to check his appearance. His skin was humming, desire making his blood sing in his veins and his lips tingle. He looped the silk tie around his neck, knotting it tightly, and smiled darkly at his reflection, his eyes gleaming gold for the briefest of moments. He had a seduction to plan.

[artificialqueens]

Distractions (Branjie) - Manta

AN: Branjie really did it huh? Made me finally fold and write my first ever drag race fic.

Brooke is getting distracted in the workroom and Vanessa helps her out.

Brooke has gotten into the annoying habit of watching Vanessa from across the workroom. No matter how badly she needs to focus on her outfit or choreography or memorizing her lines, she always catches herself with her eyes trained on Vanessa, current work forgotten. She had thought that sitting far apart while they worked would keep her from getting so distracted. She was wrong.

Right now, Vanessa is joking around with Silky. They’re speaking just loudly enough that Brooke can hear the gravelly rasp of her voice carry across the room, but can’t make out the conversation. Silky says something and Vanessa cracks up, her loud laugh traveling easily to Brooke’s ears. Brooke can’t help but smile despite not hearing the joke as Vanessa throws her head back, clutching to the wig she has placed loosely on her head so it won’t fall off.

“Bitch! How’m I supposed to do your hair if you’re thrashin’ around like that?” Silky exclaims as Vanessa tries to calm down. As she readjusts, Vanessa looks up and meets eyes with Brooke, breaking out into a grin and winking when she catches her staring.

Brooke feels a blush immediately rise in her cheeks and turns her head back toward the garment she is supposed to be working on, though now her mind is further than ever from the task at hand.

———

It is almost time to film the main challenge for the episode, and everyone is bustling around the workroom putting final touches on their looks or going over whatever characters they’re going to be doing. Brooke is touching up her lip when Vanessa walks over.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, Papi, how you feeling?” She asks, continuing to drag the lipstick across her top lip.

Vanessa leans forward against Brooke’s make up counter, watching her through the mirror. “I’m feelin’ good. Ready to bring them all this Vanjie energy, you know.”

Brooke laughs, presses her lips together and caps her lipstick. She turns to face Vanessa, planning to respond, but as soon as she is facing the other queen Vanessa leans in. Brooke puckers her lips on instinct, expecting one of the many little pecks they have traded in the workroom. When their lips met, however, and Brooke starts to pull away, Vanessa’s hand finds the back of her neck and holds her in place.

It is a mostly closed mouth, and not too messy because they can’t screw up their makeup, but the force of Vanessa’s lips pressed against her own takes Brooke by surprise. Brooke’s hand rises to Vanessa’s cinched waist, pulling her the final half step closer to where Brooke sits in her makeup chair.

Brooke takes a slow breath in through her nose, inhaling the smell of makeup, of course, but also the scent of Vanessa’s too-strong cologne, that still somehow clings to her even in drag. It is a good reminder of the man that lies beneath all the layers of tights and glitter. Not that Brooke would ever forget.

Vanessa pulls away, her hand sliding from Brooke’s neck down her arm. “Ooh, now I’m really ready to go slay this challenge!” She flashes a grin. “Alright, good luck!” she says as she turns to head out of the workroom and film her part.

“Good luck, Boo,” Brooke calls after her.

Then she turns to the mirror to fix her lipstick again and tries to ignore the flutter of arousal that will make her tuck a lot less comfortable if she doesn’t keep it under control.

———

Between the long, tiring days and being sequestered in their hotel rooms at night, there isn’t much of a chance to tend to certain, more primal, needs.

A quick make out in the van ride to set, and memories of Vanessa’s firm grip on her thigh, have left Brooke especially worked up today.

So really, she can’t be blamed for tracking Vanessa as she runs shirtless back and forth across the workroom gathering everything she needs for her runway look. Vanessa reaches up high to unhook something from her clothing rack, and Brooke can’t help the jump her mind makes to imagining that same bare torso stretched out for different reasons. Imagining how smooth and warm that tan skin would be under her hands. How Vanessa might tremble if Brooke drags her fingers slowly enough down her sides.

Brooke clears her throat, and looks away, trying to snap herself out of it. She is already half hard (blame it on the physical deprivation, okay,) and continuing down that train of thought won’t be helpful.

She sits at a workroom table, staring ahead and trying to force her thoughts toward what paint she wants to do today when she feels a warm body press up against her back.

Brooke gasps at the sudden contact. She hopes that Vanessa doesn’t hear, but luck isn’t on her side.

“What you over here gaspin’ for? Bitch, I bet you’d be so crazy in a haunted house— freakin’ out ‘round every corner.” Vanessa’s arms slip loosely around her shoulders from where she stands behind Brooke, and she leans forward to press a kiss against Brooke’s cheek.

Brooke can tell that the other queen is still shirtless, can feel the heat of bare skin even through her own t-shirt.

Brooke tries to laugh it off and divert the attention, but Vanessa catches on immediately. “What’s up Miss Thing, you actin’ weird.”

“Nothing, just thinking about what look I want to do today.”

“Mmmmm hmm,” Vanessa deadpans as she pulls out a chair and sits down beside her. “And what look is that gonna be?”

“I was thinking maybe a neutral lip to go with the dress,” Brooke spits out, even though she can’t even think of what dress she’s going to wear with Vanessa this close. She rotates on the stool so they’re facing each other. Vanessa scoots a bit closer and lets their knees slot together, mischief shining in her eyes when she sees Brooke’s flustered reaction.

“Yeah, and what dress are you wearin’?” Vanessa leans forward and rests her hands on Brooke’s knees.

“I, umm…” Brooke trails off as Vanessa’s hands slide a little bit further up her legs.

“Have you decided on your hair?”

“Uh, blonde.”

“Bitch you always wear blonde, that doesn’t narrow it down.” Vanessa quirks a brow at Brooke, letting her hands slide up another few inches. She stretches her thumbs down to press into the flesh of Brooke’s inner thighs, feeling the muscles of her strong dancer legs tense up. “You seem stressed, maybe you should go have a cigarette and loosen up or somethin’,” Vanessa says.

There’s a playfulness in Vanessa’s tone when she makes the suggestion that Brooke doesn’t fully understand. “Yeah, maybe I will. Thanks, baby.”

Vanessa’s lips quirk into a smile and she pushes herself back up out of the chair. She cups Brooke’s slightly stubbly cheek closely with one hand and presses a firm kiss to the other side of her face.

When Vanessa walks away Brooke sits for a few more minutes before deciding to follow her advice. Going out for a smoke couldn’t hurt. She walks over to her bags to grab a box of cigarettes and a lighter. Hopefully, by the time she gets back, she’ll be ready to get her mind back on the competition. The hallway between the workroom and the door to the back lot where they’re allowed to smoke is empty. Brooke turns to the door that will take her outside, but before she reaches it the door to the bathroom opens slightly and Vanessa’s head pops out sideways like a cartoon character.

“Oh, thank God it’s you bitch. Took you long enough.” She waves her hand impatiently and Brooke steps towards her.

“What are you—" as soon as she’s close enough Vanessa grabs her by the arm and tugs her into the bathroom. The door closes and she flicks the lock into place and reaches to switch Brooke’s microphone off.

“You seemed distracted. Couldn’t help but feel like it might have been my fault,” Vanessa says with a smirk and pushes up on her tiptoes to kiss the taller queen.

Brooke quickly snaps out of her shocked state and kisses back hungrily as she finally catches on to what’s happening. Her hands slide up under the t-shirt that Vanessa must have put on at some point. They break the kiss to pull the fabric up and over Vanessa’s head. Jose’s head. Because she can only think of him as Jose now. Brock drapes the shirt over the paper towel dispenser and quickly pulls his own off too, throwing it to the same place.

“We could get in so much trouble for this,” Brock says.

“Better be quiet so we don’t get caught, then.” Jose yelps in surprise when Brock reaches down to loop his arm under Jose’s ass and lifts him up.

“What happened to being quiet?” Brock teases, walking them the couple steps over toward the sink and setting Jose down on its porcelain edge. Brock steps between his legs and Jose links his ankles around Brock’s waist, hands traveling to the heated skin of his back.

The next kisses are sloppy and urgent and leave Brock thankful that neither of them has started painting yet. He holds Jose close with one hand on his back and knots the other into his dark hair. Jose moans into his mouth at the gentle tug. Brock pulls harder.

“Fuck,” Jose gasps, and digs his heels into Brock’s lower back, closing the last bit of distance between them. Brock groans at the friction, and feels the press of Jose’s dick, just as hard as his own.

Brock’s lips find Jose’s shoulder, and follow his collarbone toward the fluttering pulse in his neck. Fingers dig hard into Brock’s arm when he sucks at the sensitive skin. “Bitch, I better not have to put foundation over that.”

Brock laughs and pulls away before the hickey can get too dark. His hands slide down Jose’s chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples, and he stares at his hands and how his long fingers can wrap so far around Jose’s ribs. He peppers a few more kisses across his tan chest before their lips meet again.

Brock rocks his hips forward, slowly, but with intention. Jose’s hands press against Brock’s shoulder blades, holding them together and keeping Jose from sliding backward off the lip of the sink.

They break the kiss to breathe, cheeks sliding against each other. Brock feels hot puffs of breath against his ear in time with each push of their hips.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this. About you.” He speaks the words so softly that they’re barely a breath, but they’re close enough that Jose hears them. Brock feels him shiver in response.

“I know bitch,” Jose’s voice rasps out. “You think I haven’t seen you starin’?”

Brock catches Jose’s earlobe between his teeth and the other man gasps. “Alright! Alright, Mary, I been thinkin’ about you, too!”

“Yeah?” Brock says.

“Mmmm hmm. You wanna know what I been thinkin’ about?” Jose pulls back and shoves at Brock’s shoulders.

Brock doesn’t have time to protest before Jose has slipped off the edge of the sink and turned them around so Brock is pressed against it instead.

“Thank God they keep these bathrooms clean,” Jose says, and drops to his knees.

Brock’s cock jerks in anticipation. “Fuck,” he whispers, looking down at a dark head of hair and slim shoulders.

Jose palms Brock’s crotch through his pants and Brock’s hands fly to grip the edge of the sink.

“Remember you gotta stay quiet,” Jose warns as he undoes Brock’s pants and yanks them down along with his underwear.

Brock nods, but it’s only to himself because Jose is too busy staring at what’s in front of him to see. The smaller man falls enthusiastically onto his cock and Brock throws his head back, biting down a swear. One of Jose’s hands joins his mouth on Brock’s cock and he drags some saliva and precum down to act as lubrication as he pumps his fist in time with his mouth. Brock looks down, and watches Jose’s head bobbing. He sees when Jose moves his free hand from where it had been lightly gripping Brock’s calf to fumble with the fastening of Jose’s own pants instead. He manages to get them unbuttoned and pulls his own dick out, wrapping his hand around it and moaning around Brock’s cock.

Brock swears his vision blurs for a second. “Holy shit Jose…”

Jose looks up, his puppy dog eyes meeting Brock’s. The eye contact sends tingles up Brock’s spine. His knuckles are as white as the porcelain they’re gripping from how hard he’s holding the edge of the sink.

“Oh my God, you’re so fucking hot,” he mumbles, as loudly as he dares. Jose whimpers and the hand on his own cock speeds up. The rhythm of his mouth and the hand on Brock’s cock falter a bit, but Brock doesn’t care because the sight of Jose on his knees in front of him, jerking himself off, is so sexy that Brock probably would have come if Jose had kept up the pace.

After a few more strokes Jose pulls off of Brock completely. He sits back on his heels, pumping his own dick and staring up at Brock. “Shit, you like watching me, Brock?”

Brock nods but otherwise stays completely still. Jose’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, and Brock thinks Jose might come, but all of a sudden he stops and removes his hand.

“You lucky my voice already raspy as hell otherwise everyone would definitely be able to tell I did this,” Jose says, and then leans forward and takes Brock’s cock deep into his throat, hands raising to brace against the backs of Brock’s thighs.

“Holy fuck.” Brock prays there aren’t any PAs in the hall that might hear him.

Brock forces himself to stay still as his hips threaten to jerk forward. One of his hands finally moves off the sink and he buries it in Jose’s hair. Jose moans, and Brock feels the vibrations travel up his dick.

“Fuck Jose, I’m close. Please keep— fuck.” Jose’s fingers dig deeper into the backs of Brock’s thighs and he increases his speed. Brock inhales sharply through his nose. His eyes roll back and he looks at the ceiling, wanting desperately to come but also wanting to draw this out for a few more seconds.

His stomach tenses and he returns his attention to Jose. “Ah, fuck I’m gonna come,” Brock warns, and tries to keep his voice low enough that no one outside will hear. “Jose, I’m gonna… holy shit, ah, ah, fuck Jose, fuck, yes…”

Brock’s abs spasm and his hand knots hard in Jose’s hair. Jose holds Brock’s hips close and keeps him in his throat when he comes. He pulls back a little, still bobbing lightly as Brock trembles through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He watches Brock’s face and when he sees signs of oversensitivity he pulls off and swallows. Jose reaches for his own cock again, biting his lip and starting to stroke. “No, let me do that,” Brock says, breathless.

Jose stands, and Brock’s legs are shaky but he manages to lift Jose so he’s sitting on the edge of the sink again and takes his spot between his legs. His fingers wrap around Jose’s cock, swiping over the tip to collect the precum gathered there.

“I’m already so close,” Jose breathes, and Brock starts stroking quickly, eager to make Jose feel as good as he did.

“You liked that, huh?” Brock murmurs. “Liked having my cock in your throat.”

“Uh huh,” Jose says, breathless, and his forehead falls forward to rest against Brock’s shoulder.

Brock feels Jose’s heels dig into the top of his ass as his legs flex. “You were so fucking hot on your knees like that. You took my cock so well, baby.”

Brock speeds up his hand and feels puffs of Jose’s breath as he pants against Brock’s shoulder. “You gonna come, baby? Gotta be quiet, remember.”

Jose whimpers and brings his hand up to Brock’s shoulder so he can bite the side of it.

“Good boy,” Brock says.

Brock can’t see because of the way Jose is curled over the space between them, but he can feel the wet splash on his stomach when Jose groans against his hand and comes.

They stay like that for a minute, breathing heavily with Jose’s head resting against Brock’s shoulder as they recover. Then Brock gently eases Jose down so he’s standing again and turns to grab paper towels to clean them up with.

“Fuck, that was good,” Jose says. Jose’s voice sounds even rougher than usual, and Brock hopes the other queens won’t notice when they return to the workroom.

“It was,” Brock replies, and presses a soft kiss to his forehead before running the paper towels under some warm water and wiping them off.

The two redress and face each other one more time before heading back out. “Thank you for that,” Brock says. “I needed it.”

“Not like it was a chore for me,” Jose says. “Do I look presentable?”

“Yeah, just about.” Brock reaches over to smooth some stray pieces of Jose’s hair out. He leans down for a gentle kiss. “So how are we doing this? We probably shouldn’t go out at the same time.”

Jose is just about to respond when someone knocks loudly on the door. “Fuck,” Brock whispers. They meet each other’s eyes. “One second!” he calls out.

Jose shrugs, and Brock exhales and goes to open the door.

He finds Nina waiting outside, and smiles awkwardly at her.

He’s still hoping there might be some way they can distract her and make a getaway when Jose brushes past him into the hall with a smug look on his face. Nina’s mouth falls open into a delighted smile.

Brock sighs. “Bitch, you’d better not tell a soul.”

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, P7  Peter Parker x Reader

Author’s Note: To everyone reading and favoriting this story, thank you! I can’t express how happy I am to see each note and message.

Though I’d love to fumble through my gratitude further, this is a big chapter, so I’ll end my rambles here for now.

Let me know what you think!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Then Again, Part 7:

(Words: 3,059)

I often expect too much, set my sights a little too high. I know this, so I always prepare myself in case nothing goes according to plan.

For example: I had hoped this second annual break-into-the-hotel-pool activity would be easy, that everyone would come willingly, and we would have fun before the tournament tomorrow. Still, I prepared myself for a few bumps. For example, if Peter refused, if the entire thing flopped because everyone was worried about getting enough sleep, or if someone in the hotel caught us and reported it to Mr. Harrington, I was prepared.

Strangely enough, everyone crept out on time and Peter barely hesitated at all. Well, Michelle did force him from the start and headed off his first protest too quickly for him to find another: “Dude, just say you’ve been working out. Nobody’s going to get suspicious because you’re jacked. Even Flash can’t turn that,” she motioned to Peter’s entire body, “into a joke.”

Yet I’m more uneasy now than if everything had gone wrong. I’m not even concerned about getting caught. Mr. Harrington is watching Jurassic Park in his room and checking the hallway at ten-minute intervals and I’m almost certain the hotel staff knows we’re here, but doesn’t care.

Nevertheless, I’m just… anxious.

It might have to do with how the boys are stacked upon one another in the shallow end for Chicken and, given the small area of the pool, injuries are on the table. It might have to do with Flash’s new habit of winking at me and being, in general, maddeningly obnoxious. It might also have to do with the fact that my friends are being abnormally secretive. (I hate to use Flash’s words, but he’s sort of right. It’s the best description. Even once I got back in my room, MJ and Ned kept sending texts - I have no idea who to, though I would guess between them and Peter.)

Admittedly, my nerves might also be connected to Liz, whose face I can see across the water. As our Captain, Michelle thought it would be nice to Facetime her, ask about college, and show her that her pool idea has become a tradition.

Liz’s dorm room is beautiful, from what I can make out. She has calendars and planners neatly pinned up with Christmas lights to outline them. Photos hang from mini clothespins on a string and she even has a little library set up on her windowsill with a porcelain cat-shaped bookend. It’s like a freaking Pinterest photo. I’ve always been somewhat jealous of her, but I know that outside of some old disagreement and my envy for her style and Peter’s (old? current?) crush on her, I am glad she seems happy. Everyone knows how much she’s been going through.

As Abe and Peter pretend to duke it out on Flash and Ned’s shoulders, the light of Liz from Michelle’s phone skips through the ripples, illuminating them just so. I keep zoning out and staring at the pattern. I feel weird staying on the other side of the pool with her there, but I don’t know Liz that well outside of the team and truth be told, she always intimidated me. She just… has things together. Even now. She’s wonderful and precise and good in every way a person can be. I feel minuscule by comparison.

Then again, it might be the overwhelming smell of chlorine that’s getting into my head and putting me off. Plus, all the glints of light swimming across the glass walls - making them reflect further like a hall of mirrors - are beginning to strain my eyes. Part of me just wants to sleep. To climb out from the water, change into some pajamas, and go to bed and forget this.

But I can’t. So I tread water alone in the corner, watching and listening and feeling like an idiot for isolating myself.

Does anyone want you here in the first place?

Stop thinking like that.

I try to listen to Liz’s voice as a distraction. It’s muffled with echo, but it’s audible.

“With my AP scores, a bunch of my gen ed credits are already taken care of. But I want to take my other gen eds seriously. I have Global Ethics, Statistics, and World Journalism on Mondays and Wednesdays, then Into to Biological Chemistry and Public Relations on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

The words bounce from wall to wall, shadowing splashes and voices and little bright doses of laughter from the boys. I close my eyes for three seconds as if to catalog the moment. I have to admit, it’s pretty much perfect.

Then why do I feel so nervous?

In the same way that some days just feel so good, some nights just really, really don’t.

Flash catches my eye. God, here we go. He’s smirking.

“Hey!” he calls. “Y/N, you should join in! Hold on, let me clear you a spot.”

He jerks his body back to make Abe fall from his shoulders, hitting the water with a hard splash.

“There, now you have a place to sit,” Flash says, patting his own shoulders.

Abe stands up, shaking water from his ears before shoving Flash underwater. Ned laughs as Flash comes back up sputtering. Peter, on Ned’s shoulders, has little reaction. Michelle rolls her eyes and turns back to the girls’ conversation.

“It’s more fun watching, trust me.” Watching Peter shirtless, my brain adds.

Stop thinking about him. Despite his smile this morning (it was idiotic of me to think it meant anything significant), Peter has remained pretty cold to me today. Just like everyone else.

Michelle looks back our way again.

“Y/N and I will play,” she decides.

If I had more energy, if I weren’t feeling so despondent, and if it wasn’t her this-is-happening-don’t-argue voice, I might put up a better fight. Instead, I give a quiet defeated groan and make my way over to the shallow end. Most times it’s easier to do as she says.

“Michelle in a chicken fight?” Liz laughs, her voice reverberating on all sides of my head. “I can’t wait to see this.”

“Oh, no,” Michelle answers as she shakes her head. “Y/N is up top. I’m not getting involved in that business.”

I sigh.

“Abe, mind if I fight Flash this round?” I ask.

If I have to do this, I want to be against the one person I wouldn’t mind actually fighting.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” Abe says. “I’m sick of him. Plus, if he has the chance, I know he’ll piss on me.”

Despite my exhaustion, I can’t help laughing a little. It’s definitely true. But if Abe sits out, there’s no chance that Ned or Peter will team up with Flash.

Flash knows this too. Shrugging, he follows Abe away from the center, saying hello to Liz.

Shit.

I climb onto Michelle’s shoulders, the air making me shiver, my ankles hanging just low enough to stay in the warm water. I stare blankly at the situation. It’s me and Michelle, Peter and Ned. And I’ve barely spoken to them since they all locked me out earlier. I wouldn’t want to disrupt their texting.

I do my best not to tug Michelle’s hair as I steady myself.

Now what?

Everybody else is talking again, Liz included. I’m glad their attention is elsewhere.

Staring at Peter, who’s staring at me, it’s clear neither of us knows what to do. Things have definitely gotten stale and weird between us over the last day, and weirder still over the last few hours. I feel like an idiot. But I’d be a moron to think it’s all because of that stupid hug. Something in our friendship is stuttering, I can feel it faltering and falling away.

Abruptly unstable ground - that’s what it is, I realize, looking at him. And everybody has been able to see it coming but me. How else could Flash see it?

Thinking of all the shitty ways Peter has ignored me today, yesterday, and this past week, I shove him with as much force as I can muster, knowing it’ll be nothing to him anyway.

Peter’s legs are over his head a moment later. If it were a real fall, it would have been instant. The rippling disturbance of the water churns up more chlorine fumes. I can feel a headache germinating at the base of my skull.

“Come on, Peter,” I say while he stands and pushes wet hair out of his eyes. “Don’t pretend to let me win.”

“You caught me off guard,” he says. All of the prior playful attitude he had with Abe is gone. He’s trying - I can actually see him trying - to seem blank.

What is his problem with me?

“No, I didn’t. Don’t lie. Get back up.”

He does. Ned’s expression is unreadable for once. Michelle pats my leg.

Ned and Michelle actually move around this time, both stepping to one side or the other with half steps back and forward. Peter keeps his hands on his knees, looking bored and glancing from MJ to her phone behind us. He won’t even look at me.

It pisses me off.

Michelle rolls one shoulder before lunging forward - a little hint. I shove Peter again, now resenting how stiff his muscles are beneath his stupid skin. And again he falls sideways, though faster this time.

Flash is whooping and making some stupid comment. Liz gives a surprised, “Oh, wow.” Sally and Cindy are talking, but I can’t tell whether it’s to me or someone else. Peter’s splash is echoing too much to hear a lot at the moment.

He stands up. His hands go to his hair. He looks at me and shrugs like Got me again, I guess.

The chlorine scent is hanging heavily over the room now like a pillow being slowly forced into my face. My headache pulses and creeps up behind my ear, beating my bone like a thick drum.

“Peter,” I say, teeth grinding, “this is going to get boring pretty quickly if you keep this up. Push back. Don’t you dare ‘let me win.’ I’m serious.”

My jaw is clenching as I try to pack my anger down into a little box between my ribs. A pressurized numbness climbs up my throat.

Shove it down.

Peter says nothing in reply but mounts Ned’s shoulders again. Ned is looking at Michelle, and though I can’t see her face, I know they’re having a silent conversation.

I nudge Michelle with my heel and she lunges forward again. I shove Peter’s left shoulder as hard as I can. Both shoulders hit the water at the same time. I know that no matter how hard I could ever hit him, it wouldn’t bother him a bit, yet the fact he’s clearly not even trying to play this one game that he was just playing with Flash and Abe is burning and biting at my tongue.

Peter stands lazily as if silently offering a forfeit.

Maybe he wants to get this game over with so he can talk to Liz.

“Get up, Peter,” I say as frustration spreads like fire through the ligaments of my arms. My irritation has reached my hairline.

Last week, I would never have doubted my friendship with Peter. Suddenly, I’m almost certain he wants nothing to do with me anymore. It scares me. A familiar dense pain pools in my lungs, a physical weight knocking my ribs into one another.

How did everything go so wrong so quickly?

Peter doesn’t move. I could kill him.

“Peter! Get up! Fight back, do something! This isn’t funny anymore. Why won’t you just do something?”

At last, he looks me straight in the eye.

“What?” he shoots back. “What do you want me to do?”

He’s angry now too, blatantly. It’s worse than last night. I can see it, a red patch of irritation growing from his chest up to his neck. Neither of us has ever gotten like this. We’re not the kind of people who do. Not with one another, and certainly not in front of other people.

It’s a violently refreshing change: honesty.

“Anything! Stop messing around,” I say. “Just play the fucking game.”

“Maybe I’m sick of it,” he says, his hands open. “This whole stupid idea! I’m not playing anymore.”

What is he talking about? It’s been barely a minute of this game.

“MJ,” I say, “let me down.”

“Alright.”

She jerks back like Flash did to Abe. The water stings through my nostrils and the lining of my lungs. Is this just MJ being MJ or is she angry at me, too? And what about Ned, could he be mad at me?

What have they all been calling and texting each other about?

I wipe water from my face and open my eyes, stinging.

“Come on, Peter, play a game,” I mock, moving closer to him. He just stands there. “Play a game.”

I’ve been playing some sort of game for at least 24 hours now, maybe over a week, maybe even longer. He can too.

Peter doesn’t move a millimeter. I shove him. Nothing. His expression remains blank. He doesn’t fall, he doesn’t budge.

“Peter!”

I shove him again.

Nothing.

Michelle and Ned are creeping out of the water. Their waves are the only sound besides my echoing shout in the whole room. God, this is bad. I know starting some kind of fight isn’t going to increase my chances of leaving D.C. with any friends, but I almost can’t stop myself. I have to do something.

I move closer, face burning with an itch of fury.

“What?” he says.

Michelle and Ned, blurry reflections I can see from the glass wall behind Peter, have grabbed their towels and are walking through the door.

Damn it. Where are they going?

Something is crushing inside my chest. I can feel my eyes brimming with tears.

Shove. Them. Down. I will not angry cry in front of my classmates right now. Absolutely not. Especially not with Flash and Liz here.

My hands start shaking instead as I grapple for a reply.

“Just- just do something, Peter!”

The muscles in his jaw are working and pulsing. I wonder what words he’s chewing - of course, I’ll likely never know because it seems Peter is refusing to tell me anything.

“That’s just it!” he shouts back. “What do you want me to do?!”

That something in my chest is spasming, collapsing.

Peter’s chest is heaving and the red has reached his face. His words are fogging up my already pounding head.

That’s just it. What do you want me to do?

There are too many people here and as I notice their reflections standing over Peter’s shoulders with eyes glued to his face and my back, I realize I’ve just lost them too. In only the span of a couple minutes. The understanding hits me over the head and slices through my gut. I’ve ruined everything with everyone here, not just Peter and Ned and Michelle. They’ve never seen me like this and it’s too late to pretend to reverse it. There’s no way I’ll leave this trip with any friends.

It takes every particle of concentration to not let my emotions get the better of me and cry; especially when I’m still staring at Peter. The brown of his eyes seems darker than I’ve ever seen before and his brow is knotted up, hard.

The moment is so still and static.

Without warning, Peter smacks the water in front of me with one hand. It’s like a lukewarm tidal wave washing over my head, tangling my hair across my face.

My nose and lungs burn again. I gasped at the wrong second. In less than a moment though, it’s doused my nerves. I suddenly feel smaller than a child, humiliated.

“Are you kidding?”

I don’t know if he or anyone hears me. The question was quiet and overcome by countless echoing splashes. It’s for the best: nobody can see my chin shaking at this distance so maybe if they didn’t hear the crack in my voice, I can pull myself together.

Guilt and regret seep into my skin as Peter climbs out of the pool. I want to apologize, but apologize for what? And fear, fear is mixing with those other emotions. A mountain of blurred emotions coated in black dread and red fear.

I take a breath and turn around.

Fuck.

Cindy, Sally, Abe, and Flash are just… staring. Worse, Liz is too. Of course, Michelle forgets her phone this one time.

The door closes with a bang behind Peter.

His towel is slung over one shoulder and water droplets spatter across the hallway floor as he storms through it. If I could get over him, if I could stop thinking about him for one day, stop thinking about him for one minute, my heart rate wouldn’t be leaping off the charts as I watch him. Actually, my heart rate might just be a result of me realizing how serious this is. The fact that four faces are still staring, now waiting for me to explode, likely doesn’t help slow it down either.

“Guys,” Liz’s voice calls. “Come on. Don’t make this weird.”

Flash laughs. Hard.

“It’s super weird completely on its own! Man, what was that?”

Tension loosening its hold on the room, Flash is back to himself, looking astonished and amused beyond belief.

“Flash, seriously. Let it be,” Liz snaps at him. When she looks at me, her expression softens. “Don’t let Peter Parker get in your head. He can… be like that sometimes. He might just be going through something.”

I know what he’s like, I think. I’ve been friends with him for longer than one Homecoming date. Liz is trying, at least, and I do appreciate the thought.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding.

She mirrors the motion.

“I should go before my roommate gets back to study. And Y/N, if you ever want to talk, I’d like to hear from you again. From any of you guys. Anyway, good luck everyone! I’m sure tomorrow will be great.”

The room dissolves into Goodbye!’s. I use the distraction to get my towel and phone and slip out.

What have I done?

Part 8

Next Update: Friday, October 20

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I’d love to hear from you!

Also - if you want to be added to the tag list, reply to this post or send me a message.

And I apologize for the typos I’m sure were in this part. I didn’t have much time to proofread. 

@allyouhadstodowasstay @profmmcgonagall @peterparkerismybeing @look-how-far-i-come @i-love-superhero

[ahumanfemale]

Maggie’s (A Teashop AU)

Rafael Barba hated tea.

He’d been a coffee man with his first taste at the age of fifteen.  A dark cup of simple brewed coffee, steaming in a lilac porcelain mug snuck to him by his abuelita.  Her dark eyes were quick and playful as she mimed for him to be quiet, both of them fully aware how his mother would feel about her son getting caffeine at such a young age.  It had been closing in on midnight, he was prepping for his PSATs - the first of dozens of tests that would get him into the Ivy League, out of the Bronx.  The cup of coffee was just another facet of his abuelita’s support - a blaring neon sign that advertised her love for him, her belief in the mouthy  teenager who rolled his eyes too much and believed he was smarter than everyone else.

The first sip was a revelation, the second a breath of fresh air.

He’d never been the same.

That was thirty years ago and here he was, ordering his fifth cup of tea in two weeks.  English breakfast tea, this time, brewed strong.  This was a shot in the dark, honestly, after more than one failed rendezvous with other brews.  Black, green, white - all terrible.  Rooibos made him grimace.  Chai was better but made him sneeze half the morning, much to Carmen’s amusement.  All fell flat, none of them stoked the same fire that coffee did.  Which didn’t do much to explain why he was standing in line now, placing his order with a slim, blue-eyed blonde from Staten Island.

“What’s your name?” she asked him, smiling but brusque because the shop was packed and it didn’t look like business was going to lighten up any time soon.

Gina Carisi, the owner.

“Rafael,” he replied, signing his credit card receipt as she marked it down on the cup and handed it off to a taller, similarly slender blue-eyed blond from Staten Island.  One with swept back hair and a narrow waist and dimples that could render him mute.  Gina Carisi’s younger brother, the closest thing he’d managed to find to a streak of human sunshine.  

“Got it, Gina,” the man replied with a grin in Rafael’s direction.

“Thanks,” he breathed, moving to the side to let the next customer come forward.

Maybe also to improve the view without the cash register in the way.

Maggie’s had opened a month ago to rave reviews, a bright and modern tea shop to combat the ever-encroaching plague of Starbucks on every corner.  He passed it almost every morning but never would have stepped inside were it not for Rita, who was trying to make the switch to green tea because it was healthier than coffee, supposedly.  Remarkably, it had done so very little for her mood that Rafael doubted it was healthier in any sense of the word.  

He wanted to mock her but had been struck mute once Rita’s cup had been handed off to a statuesque blond with pink lips and a loud laugh who made such direct eye contact with Rafael that his whole body flushed hot and he stammered the rest of his sentence.  It lasted only a moment, his life had jumpstarted again once Rita thanked the man for her drink and headed for the door, but the damage was done.

That was two weeks ago, and the situation hadn’t improved at all.

Rafael now let his eyes follow the curve of the man’s broad shoulders as he worked, admiring slender muscles and pale forearms.  If he stared a little long at the black apron slung low on his hips, well.  He could hardly be blamed.  Not with the way those hips seemed to jut of their own accord, keeping Rafael’s eyes well and truly glued.

Sonny.

His name is Sonny.

Rafael hears the owner say it a lot.  In thanks, in aggravation.  In affection when she asks him to grab the phone.  In ordering him to get out of her way behind the bar.  It’s ridiculous that Rafael paid such close attention but here he was.  Waiting on a drink he won’t ingest just for a smile.

Maybe his life was sad.

Maybe it was time he found some other source of fulfillment in his life, so that he wasn’t forced to pay for drinks he wouldn’t enjoy if it meant a five-second interaction with a man ten years his junior.  A gorgeous man.  A gorgeous man with a wide smile and a loud laugh who gets bossed around by his sister nearly constantly and still manages to look at her like she’s his hero and Jesus Christ he needed a hobby.  

“Here you go,” Sonny said, breaking him out of his traitorous thoughts.

The man reached over the bar, labeled cup in hand, sinew pulled taut and long fingers wrapped over the dark scrawl of his name and Rafael feels his pulse thud heavily.  They made a second or two of eye contact and Rafael’s stomach swooped low, breath unsteady.  Sonny smiled like he knew.  He handed over the cup with one of those wide grins and Rafael didn’t know if he smiled or nodded or what because suddenly the cup is in his hand and he was headed out the door, straight white teeth flashing behind his eyes.  

Hobbies.

He needed hobbies.

He took a sip from the cup, encouraged by the dark scent wafting from the top.  It was scalding hot but it still managed to taste like leaves boiled in water… which it was.  It was bolder than his other choices but still not anything that appealed to him.

“Rafael!” he heard when he was almost halfway down the block and he turned to see the object of his recent obsession jogging down the sidewalk, other pedestrians parting to make way.  His unfortunate heart was forced to pick up its pace again without even having the opportunity to recover from the last time he’d laid eyes on the man.

“Hey, sorry,” Sonny gasped, catching up to him.  His thin white Henley was clinging to his shoulders and Rafael had a hard time looking up, “I know we never really had an actual introduction but with your name written on the cup…”

“It was a safe assumption,” Rafael agreed.

“I’m Sonny,” he said, offering a hand that Rafael took.  He tried not to get off on the warm skin of Sonny’s palm as it met his because there was sad and then there was sad.  

“So, uh… you don’t like tea at all, do you?”

Rafael balked.

“What?”

Sonny looked at him knowingly.

“No,” he finally sighed.  “Not really.”

“I figured.  You make the same face every time,” Sonny noted and Rafael had the good grace to look ashamed.

“Look, it’s not you-”

“No, I know.  I took you for a coffee guy the first time you walked in the door.”

He noticed him the first time he walked in the door?

“You’re, uh… you’re not wrong.”

“So, what?” Sonny asked playfully, “Just come in for the atmosphere?”

Rafael smirked and let his eyes drift over him.

“Something like that.”

Sonny flushed the most beautiful pink he’d ever seen and huffed a nervous laugh.  

“Hey, uh, can you wait here just a second?”

Rafael blinked.

“Yes.  I- yes.”

He couldn’t, really.

He had court in an hour.

But there he stayed, on the sidewalk, because a smiling pair of blue eyes asked him to.

Hobbies.

That was his problem.

A lack of hobbies.

True to his word, Sonny came back out a little over five minutes later, a new cup in hand.  Rafael balked at first, about to insist that he didn’t need his drink replaced, but Sonny’s grin was wide and his eyes were bordering on flirtatious so he just handed over the cooling breakfast tea without a fight and accepted the new cup.  

The new cup that smelled like coffee, deep and dark.

He took a sip and if the pleased look on Sonny’s face wasn’t enough to make his knees go weak the latte in his hands definitely was.

A bold espresso roasted beautifully, tempered with steamed milk with what tasted like the barest hint of vanilla to round it off.  It was… it was perfect.  His blood sang with it, his taste buds swooned.  If his mouth hadn’t been full he might have done something stupid and proposed to Sonny Carisi on the spot.

“Oh, my God.”

It was the best he could do.

Sonny ducked his head, pleased.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rafael said emphatically.  “I didn’t realize you made coffee, too.”

“You would have if you’d looked at the menu even once,” Sonny teased and he smirked in response.

“I had my eyes on something better,” Rafael assured him and that blush was back.  It might be the death of him.  “Still… this is amazing.  Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said honestly and Rafael took another drink, maintaining eye contact so the next time he moaned at the taste of the latte on his tongue he got to see Sonny’s eyes widen in surprise and darken in interest.

“I’ll, uh- I’ll let you go.  I’m sure you’re probably busy,” Sonny said, pulling his eyes up from Rafael’s mouth to smile.  “You have a good day, okay?”

“I will.  Thank you,” he said and watched Sonny turn back toward the entrance of his sister’s store.  He had almost let Sonny get away before a thought gripped him and he yelled out, “How do I order this again?!”

Sonny turned, still walking.

“Check the cup!” he called back and then disappeared.

Rafael looked down at the plain white cup, seeing a name other than his own printed on the side.  Below that, a series of seven digits that had his mouth turning up in a smile.  

Maybe he didn’t need hobbies after all.  

[s3hun-ah]

foreign affairs (sehun) - four

2.9k, part 4/?

1 | 2 | 3 |

Sehun watched me with disdain. His eyes raked in my body, watching my hands travel across my thighs, eyes flickering with some emotion I couldn't quite place. He slowly sipped his drink, one hand tightly fisted in his lap, knuckles white, eyes never leaving my hips, which were still swaying to the music softly. I'm sure he was correcting my moves in his head, his inner monologue reeling, but somehow I didn't care. Instead, I slowly rolled my hips, dropping low on the floor before raising back up to my usual height. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, heart thumping, fingers trembling. My dancing certainly wasn't perfect, but enticing?

I could make it so.

Surprisingly, Sehun could banter quite well.

Although his tone could come off a bit harsh, and sometimes he didn't get the joke quite fast enough, his delivery was impeccable. Often times, his shit little comments would make everyone at the table start giggling madly.

His dark eyes followed us around the table, smiling slightly to himself as our conversation moved from one topic to the next. Everyone's classes had gone well, aside from Baekhyun, who had walked into the wrong lecture hall, but it wasn't like he was interested in the lecture anyway.

"Oh, and she had the fairest skin, porcelain, really!" He sighed, stuffing his mouth with even more aoki.

"Hey, save some for the rest of us." Chanyeol laughed, grabbing the platter from him and piling a few more onto his plate. He passed it to Sehun, who passed it right along without taking any more.

"Yeah, how the hell are you so petite?" Ky asked, shaking his head with a grin.

"Hey now, I don't eat that much." Back said seriously, before even he had to chuckle. He couldn't even lie that easily.

"You easily eat the most out of all of us, Byun." Sehun said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

"Come on, dancer boy, you should eat and help those muscles of yours grow big and strong." Baekhyun said with a grin, poking Sehun's elbows playfully, to which Sehun shoved him off.

"Why do you care, Baekhyun?" Sehun scoffed. "Jealous that I'm a better dancer than you?"

"I like to think I'm a good dancer actually, so no." Back grinned, to which Sehun barked out a laugh.

Even Chanyeol chuckled. "Yeah right, Baek."

"Okay, I'm not amazing, but I can keep to the beat. That's all that matters, right?" Baekhyun shrugged with a lopsided smile.

"Ooh, careful Baek, you're going to offend him." I laughed, kicking him lightly underneath the table. He feigned a wince, shooting me a soft glare with a wink.

"Yeah, watch yourself Buy, these dancer muscles can beat your ass." Sehun smirked, grossing his arms cockily, to which Baekhyun rolled his eyes.

"Are we all done?" Kyungsoo asked, waving to the waiter for the bill.

"Yeah, I better go back and do my studies some more." I said with a sigh, moving to grab my purse. Tonight was my night to pay the bill.

"Yeah, I should probably actually see what happened in my lecture this morning." Baekhuyn groaned, stretching his arms above his head.

"Are you guys kidding?" Sehun asked, his eyes widened in surprise. He tugged his lip into his mouth and chewed on it softly, looking at us all evenly.

"What?" I asked, throwing some money onto the table haphazardly.

"That's it? You eat then go home?" Sehun asked, his tone surprised.

"I agree with Sehunnie." Chanyeol said with a wide grin. "Let's actually go out tonight!"

"And what's your suggestion then, Chan?" Kyungsoo asked, folding his hand on the table.He furrowed his brows, and immediately I knew that Ky definitely wasn't much of partier.

"Let's hit a bar!" Chanyeol said, eyes lighting up happily. He clapped his hands with glee, eyes flickering around the table. His excitement radiated off of him, rolling off in waves.

I had to admit, his pearly white smile was infectious.

"I don't know, I have culinary history tomorrow morning." Ky groaned, rubbing his forehead softly.

"Come on Ky!" Baekhyun shot him a grin. "We should try it!"

"Yeah Do, you agreed to give my ideas a shot." Sehun said cockily, crossing his arms and shooting Ky a look.

Ky's eyes met Sehun's evenly, before rolling his eyes. "Technically, this was Chanyeol's absurd idea."

"Absurd?" Chan said with a smirk.

"I thought it was rather genius." Baekhyun grinned, slapping Chan's hands from across the table.

"Come on Kyungsoo, live a little! Let's go out, come on." Chanyeol grinned, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Chae, what're you thinking?" Sehun asked me lowly, smirk slowly growing. I could tell from the glint in his brooding eyes that he was expecting me to back out.

Rather, I shot him a glowing grin. "I could do a couple shots."

"Then it's a plan!" Baekhyun said, whipping out his phone and started punching in letter in a frenzy.

Ky groaned. "Why am I doing this?" he grumbled, head falling into his hands in a dramatic fashion.

I rubbed his back harshly, smirking. "Aw, baby. You sure you'll be okay? If you want, we can converse about the notes in our whiskey?"

Ky slapped my hands away, lips twisting into a frown. "Off, noona." He grumbled, fixing his hair softly. "I'll get over it."

"Found one! Ten minute walk ladies, let's head out!" Baek said with a grin, leaping out of his seat with a wide grin.

Quickly, the boys all followed suit, scuttling after Baekhyun out of the dim, packed restaurant. Grinning wildly, I grabbed my purse and ran after them, sandy hair flying wildly behind me, and smile refusing to fade.

- - - - -

The beat pulsed heavily, running through my feet and rattling my bones. My hips swayed lazily to the beat, not wanting to spill a drop of liquid in my cup.

"Having fun, noona?" Chan asked, bleary eyes glistening happily. His arm looped lazily around my shoulder, and he leaned his weight on me so he didn't fall over. His woodsy scent was tainted with the bitter sting of vodka, sending tingles down my spine.

I sipped my whiskey slowly, letting the acidic heat slip down my throat easily. "Yes, Yeol, I'm very happy." I slurred back to him, arm looping around his waist. My chest glowed warmly, heart racing, mind buzzing. Starting the night with shots definitely wasn't the smartest idea, but my bleary mind happened to think it was an amazing idea right about now.

The beat changed quickly from a fast, poppy song to a slower, heavy-bass Korean jam. Baekhyun, who hadn't been able to get off the dance floor, grinned widely in me and Chan's direction. "Come on, pussies! Get out here!"

Grinning, and not sparing another glance behind me at where Ky and Sehun were sat at the bar, i scampered out to the dance floor, Chan tight in tow.

My cheeks were flushed, fingers numb, but somehow I still danced to the beat. Swinging my hips slowly, I let my hands explore by body slowly, mouthing the words I understood quietly to myself. Baekhyun (the 'talented' dancer) swayed to the beat too, nursing his drink at his lips harshly. Even Chanyeol was laughing at something unknown, body shaking but somehow following the pace of the music with accurate rhythm. Grinning at the stupid boys, I raised my drink in the air in a mock cheers, before gulping it down greedily. The liquid courage coursed through my veins, igniting a fire inside my bones, my very being.

God, I love alcohol.

I wiped my mouth roughly with my arm. "Refill." I garbled, before wandering back to the bar in a haphazard line.

"Apple beer?" I asked the bartender. His eyes met mine, widening slightly at my drunken appearance, before his mouth curled into a breathtaking grin.

"Sure thing, beautiful." he winked, sauntering off to grab me my drink.

I rolled my eyes, turning to lean back against the bar with a sigh. My brain was swimming in an ocean, struggling to stay afloat, but somehow, I was okay with that. It gave me a chance to finally shut it down, giving it a break from the overdrive it always seemed to be churning at.

"Here you go," the bartender said, setting the beer down on the bar behind me with a soft clink. I turned around, tossing some money on the counter with a small smile.

"Ah, no need. Pretty girls drink on the house." He said, leaning on the counter. He wiped his hands with a cloth softly, dark brown hair fluttering into his eyes. His bronze skin positively glowed in the dim lighting. I just wanted to go and touch it, wondering if the shimmer was some highlighter or just his natural beauty.

God, I was really drunk.

"Is that a personal rule, or did I miss that on the rule board outside?" I asked with a smirk, leaning to match his pose. My hand grabbed the cool glass, raising it to my lips but maintaining eye contact.

"Completely personal, and also completely subjective." he said with a little grin. "I'm Kim Jongin, but my buddies call me Kai. Feel free to use that as well." he said, eyes swimming in and out of my vision.

I smiled back at him drunkenly. My head was funny. Had it always been this fuckin fuzzy? "Honoured to meet you Kai. I'm Chae."

"Chae?" Kai said, ticking his tongue. "That's not going to work, jagi."

I blushed at his brazen attitude. "What does that mean?"

"It means darling, which you most certainly are. A darling, that is." Kai said with a grin. He tapped my empty glass once again. When had I finished that? "Refill?"

I nodded eagerly, smiling at him sweetly. He returned my smile, and ran off to grab me another drink.

"Vodka sodas ruined me." Sehun said, plopping down beside me with a groan. His eyes were red, hands tremoring slightly. He was just as drunk as I was.

"Sehun-ah, fancy seeing you here." I said, slapping his knee with a giggle.

He returned a crooked smile. "Ah, Chae, Chae, Chae. Nice dancing." he grinned, nodding to the dance floor.

"Thank you!" I grinned even wider. Wow, I didn't think I was being that good, but -

"I was kidding." Sehun snickered, turning to face the dance floor once again. I just rolled my eyes.

"Another apple beer for my jagi." Kai said with another charming smile. I returned it, grabbing the glass from his hands. Our fingers brushed slightly, the temperature change from his warm finger to the cold glass sending my mind reeling. I giggled drunkenly, taking a little sip quickly.

"So, tell me about this little rule you devised for yourself." I asked, watching foam swirl around the edge of the glass cup slowly. It was mesmerizing. "How does your manager feel about it?"

"Well, she hasn't caught on," Kai said, tone dropping. He leaned across the bar, lips almost reaching my ear. I turned my head so he could whisper more effectively. "Honestly, I've only ever used it once. Mind giving me some feedback?"

Shivers travelled at lightning speed down my spine. The smell of his breath, coffee mixed with whiskey, sent my senses into complete overdrive.

He might have been even more intoxicating that the drinks currently killing my liver.

"Well, if she bugs you about it, tell her the feedback is overwhelmingly positive." I said confidently, flicking my hair behind my shoulder. The liquid courage in my veins made me free, happy. I could be anyone.

"I'll be sure to let her know." Kai said with a smirk, flashing me his stark white teeth.

God, how were his teeth so attractive?

"Can I get a vodka soda, my dude." Sehun asked from the seat beside me. I had forgotten he was even there.

"Sure thing man, whatever you need." Kai nodded and smiled politely. "And I'll be back to you soon."

I smiled after his retreating back, teeth gnawing my lower lip. The fire burning inside me glowed hotter than ever, embers falling to the pit of my stomach.

"Damn Chae, if I knew you were coming to get laid I would have definitely stayed at home." Ky said, clapping my shoulder with a grin. I just shot him a look from under my lashes.

"Come on, don't deny it. That was a pretty heated exchange, I could tell from across the fucking bar."

"Was not, we were just talking." I said with a light laugh, giving him a shove lightly.

"Then why are your cheeks so red?" Sehun asked, eyes flickering over the apples of my face.

I held my hand to them carefully. Holy hell, they were burning!

But my fingers were also freezing, so that didn't mean anything.

"God forbid a girl has a little fun." I rolled my eyes, not going to deny it any more than I already had. I was just going to look like an idiot.

"Aw, we don't mind, Chae. Go get some dick, who cares." Ky said, grinning widely.

My own eyes shot open in surprise, not expecting such a vulgar response from Ky. "Really, oppa?"

Ky laughed, grabbing a hold on his own glass of whiskey. "Yeah, who cares. You're a young adult, just be safe."

I grabbed his hand gratefully, a large smile playing on my features. "God bless you, Soo-ah." I laughed, spinning back around in my seat.

Just in time, Kai returned with Sehun's drink in hand. He handed it to him with a polite bow, before his eyes were back on me. "So jagi, what's this I heard about your dancing?"

My cheeks flushed even more. "Wh-What? Did you see that?"

Kai shook his head, laughing. "Everyone in the damn bar seems to have, jagi. A white girl dancing as well as you is a sight to see, shame I missed it." he said, his dark eyes flickering up to mine. He gave me a little grin, asking a silent question.

Show me?

Grinning, I downed my drink and stood up quickly. "Lucky for you, Kai, I'm not done."

Returning to my former spot on the dance floor, I let the bass flow though me like pulsing lava. My feet were ignited, swaying me slowly to the beat, hands exploring my vast expanses of skin. I tossed my head back, hair flowing down my spine, flicking with the tune of the bass-filled song pulsing over the loudspeakers. Slowly but surely, my hands worked their way into the air, plucking invisible strings, before coming down and entangling themselves in my hair.

Eyes opening, I glanced back at the bar. To my happiness, Kai leaned against the countertop, a grin playing on the corners of his mouth, eyes travelling my body hungrily. I flashed him a large smile, spinning myself slowly so he could capture all angles of my form.

Beside Kai, however, Sehun watched me with disdain. His eyes raked in my body, watching my hands travel across my thighs, eyes flickering with some emotion I couldn't quite place. He slowly sipped his drink, one hand tightly fisted in his lap, knuckles white, eyes never leaving my hips, which were still swaying to the music softly. I'm sure he was correcting my moves in his head, his inner monologue reeling, but somehow I didn't care. Instead, I slowly rolled my hips, dropping low on the floor before raising back up to my usual height. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, heart thumping, fingers trembling. My dancing certainly wasn't perfect, but enticing?

I could make it so.

As the bass increased, so did the speed of my waist rocking back and forth. My hands explored my body, feeling every fibre of my being, pumping, pounding, racing to the quick rhythm. I could feel a smile playing on my lips as I spun slowly, arms reaching to the ceiling, hair cascading down my back. My blood was boiling, cells electrified.

I was alive.

As the pulsing bass slowly subsided, I sauntered back to the bar where Kai was waiting. "How was that?" I asked with a grin, leaning onto the bar with my elbows.

Kai matched my pose, impossibly close. I could smell his breath, the scent making my heart shudder and nearly stop. My own breath was ragged and panting, half from the dancing, and half from the body high Kai was giving me.

"That, jagi, was everything I expected and more." Kai said with a large grin, leaning into me painfully slow. I could feel people at the bar staring, surely stunned by the public display of... what? Affection? Lust? Horny-ness?

Something like that.

Kai's breath fanned over my face softly, making my eyes roll into the back of my head. I needed him, wanted him, body pulsating at the thought of his lips finally touching mine. Suddenly, just before our lips finally brushed, I got pulled away.

"Hey noona, Baekhyun is throwing up. What do?" Chanyeol asked, his eyes rolling around in his skull.

"Ask Ky." I wheezed breathy, stretching to return to the bar where I belonged, with Kai. I could see him eyeing Yeol in annoyance.

"Chae, come on, help Baekhyun." Sehun grumbled, his hand grabbing my wrist. He sat perfectly still, one hand folded in his lap, eyes locked on me. "He's your friend."

Sehun, as much as I hated to admit it, was right. I glanced around at the group, eyes bleary and swimming. When nobody offered to go and cover my Mom-duties, I dropped a large sigh.

Glancing back at Kai, who was still eyeing me with last, I felt my stomach churn. Breaking free of Sehun's tight grasp, I leaned up onto the counter quickly and have him a quick pack on the cheek. "Don't forget about me, Kai. I'll be back." I said with a sultry smirk, eye narrowing at his fucking amazing  face, before scampering off into the crowd to find Baek.

"Never, jagi!" He yelled after me, making my stomach heat up in the best way possible.

Next time, I didn't plan on bring so rudely interrupted.