#patroclus is a bitch and i love him for it. its funny
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
“patroclus doesnt know how to fight and doesn’t like the battlefield” cringe. bad. unsupported by homeric canon. meanwhile in the iliad patroclus is out here “rushing against the trojans with murder in his heart” and mocking cebriones after shattering his skull with a rock going “haha is my guy an acrobat”
#patroclus is a bitch and i love him for it. its funny#i like the scene where he’s helping the healers in nestors tent dont get me wrong but#dude kills 27 guys in one line like its NOTHING. he throws a rock into cebriones’ SKULL. he tells meriones to Shut Up Its War Time#dude is absolutely cracked okay we gotta stop making him some uwu helpless baby. let him kill its his favorite activity#patroclus#the iliad
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
Headcanons of mine or my Au idk yet😍 (Hades Game x Iliad and a bit of tsoa)
this is stupid ik...and probably terrible😭 BUT PLS READ ANYWAYS
1.Achilles was a total bitch ass in life and we all know it, but what if Thetis tried to save his son ass one last time, she told Zeus to give her son another chance in the afterlife and Zeus tells Hades to make Achilles train his son, Zagreus (refering to Hades game). I can just imagine Hades, leterally giving Zag off to Achilles, that has a weakness for kids but he is not good with them, so he starts panicking, but tries to teach him a couple of things, how to behave and not do his same mistakes, since the regret he feels. Also when he and Patroclus meet again in the underworld, Patroclus sees Achilles and could tell he changed, that he was a bit calmer, even tho he still had some beef in him.
2. I thought this at 4 am so if its weird i was feeling freaky💞..But, i feel like Hades, when Achilles firstly arrived at the House of Hades, not only was made Hades royal guard, but Hades probably mistook him for Persephone at least from behind..I though this bc of my design of Achilles, i wanted to make sure to keep that devine look of his, so i find it funny that Hades mistakes him for his wife since he misses her a lot..
3. Antilochus and Deidamia were both so gay for Achilles. (Pat did not wanna share with Antolochus) [Anti had a lil crush on Pat too]
4. Hades got drunk and told Achilles to put Persephone's clothes (Still weird thoughts of 2 am, was feeling delulu)
5. Apollo for pure fun would curse Achilles to be a girl and fail bc Achilles was already in disguaise once, he loves dresses and feeling pretty.
6. Achilles and Patroclus bullied whole troy and Greek camp, the only ones that saved themselves were Briseis and Antilochus.
7. Since Polygamy was a thing, all the women Achilles, in the iliad, like Penthesilea (i hope i wrote her name correctly), fell in love with, surely pegged him. He is a bottom every situation, no matter the gender. Deidamia pegs him def..
Ok done for now🙏 sorry😰
#achilles#patrochilles#greek mythology#patroclus#the iliad#sub achilles#antilochus#deidamia#briseis#headcanons#my au#hades game#hades two#patroclus x achilles
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
GOD IT'S SUCH A SHAME THAT I NEVER REBLOGGED THIS ONE BC WHEN I CAME BACK TO TUMBLR IT WAS ONE OF THE FICS I ENJOYED THE MOST AND OH GOD THIS IS JUST. rereading it and commenting it in the way it deserves. also i know i'm gonna have SO MUCH TO SAY so. read more it is.
How funny it is that he’s the most fit man you’ve ever known, could lift you with one arm without breaking a sweat— one bicep literally the size of your head, yet looks like he’d cry if someone touched him right now. It’s a hard to swallow, unreal pill that you’re the one doing this to Leon, making him weak like this. You’ve never known you had that kind of power over him until now, how he says he wants to break up but would throw up if you actually say yes.
i'm absolutely okay!!! just !!! oh god. the mental image of the size difference and then just. him being reduced to tears so easily oh god I'M FINE.
What makes it easier for you is having consented to how absent and private he warned half the things involving him was going to be, or it’s that you knew from the start your time with him would be limited. You just don’t question it; completely skipping the first four stages of grief and jumping readily to acceptance. The lamb knew it would be slaughtered by the nurturing, kind humans, and yet it still got attached to them; Homer straight up told the readers how the story would end right at the start of Iliad, yet the fall of Patroclus and the rage of Achilles burned the same, if not worse — you knew Leon would inevitably fall apart and run away one day, yet chose to cherish your limited time with him all the same. It can’t be called a tragedy if you agreed to how it would end in the first place. Leon Kennedy is ephemeral in his nature, daydream-present and lucid-absent in your life all at once. You thought of him as an outdoors cat, never really yours in the first place, randomly shows up whenever he wants to, reluctantly leaves out of nowhere — a flighty, mysterious companion who’s happy and eager to be there but withdrawn when poked and prodded. You accept him as such, love him all the same. You’re not sure if he loves you just as much.
honestly. holy shit. this part just... it kills me. it just a few paragraphs you flow effortlesstly, talking about this grief, classical literature, and the stray cat comparison? just. jesus fucking christ. the way you connect the ideas, how you express them so fucking beautifully. god. i'm in awe.
also god i just adore adore SO MUCH. how you handle their conversation. the sadness dripping from every word. the hoping he changes his mind while also not hinting at that. god im ksjkJSD.
“Say no if you don’t want it,” he breathes, right into your neck, the tickle is mixed with something dangerous that sears your skin along with the low rumble to his voice directly in your ear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming, a coil of incandescence binds its threads together in the depths of your stomach. “Say it and I’ll stop.” One muscular arm hooks around the back of your upper thigh and one around your waist, he quite literally snatches you off your chair and plops you down on his lap, each of your legs hang from the sides of his hips, and you yelp at how effortlessly Leon seems to arrange you to his liking.
BESTIE I AM BLUSHING THIS IS ALL SO SO.SAKJSKAJFDFD. the idea of him being so mean but also so tender and jfc. a bitch (me) is getting thirsty.
“You’re so—” Your breath hitches when his fingers bypass your shirt and sneak up the bare skin of your waist and his other arm readjusts you as he buries his forehead in your shoulder and you gaze at the top of his golden hair kissed by morning sunlight and take in the familiar scent of him and his shampoo. His body against yours leaves a festering sweet longing. “So unfair—you were just breaking up with me—” He bites down at the meat of your clavicle and you draw in a short breath, the dig of his teeth sting, but he immediately soothes it with a lick and his tongue is hot, too hot. “Unfair?” he groans, you contain the shudder at the emotion he keeps at bay and at the path his blunt fingernails make above the clothing from your hips to the sides of your legs, he’s never been like this. “You already left me in your mind before this and I don’t even know exactly when.” The tip of his nose faintly traces the curve of where your neck meets the shoulder, the tickle is unbearable, aching, you wish he would have left marks instead. “You were always thinking of leaving— our time together didn’t matter to you. What do you think that makes me feel like?”
absolutely dead. the desciption of HIS HAIR AS FUCKING SUNLIGHT AND HIS CSCESCENT AND THE LONGINGIM JSU TKJGFKDDJ. AND THE DIALOGUE TOO GOD HE EGETS SO SO POSSESSIVE THE STUPID LIL LOSER OH GODDD. i NEED HIM. AND HOW HE ASKS TO BE TOLD TO STAY ESSUDSJ HELPPP. he is so SO SO SO. and apologising afterwards oh GOD YOURE BREAKING MY HEART !!!
“You can have me however you want.” Leon doesn’t look like he’s particularly looking forward to it. “You sure?” “I’ll always want you, any day, any time,”
oh god oh god OH GOD IMASKJKSJ THE FUCKING DESIRE HOLYYY SHIT
His hands ride up your knee and inch up, his thumbs in the line of your inner thighs, and your first instinct is to press them together to alleviate the ache, but Leon’s forcing them apart. “You can have my tongue or fingers first. To help the friction.” You swallow when the nail of his thumb scratches the material of your panties and feels the slight dampness, and he’s watching your reactions very closely. “Or you could just sit down.”
iM JUSDSAIDJDIDDSA. yeah my brain is fucking mush like. oh god. oh god. AND THE NEEDY KISS IM JUST LSING MY FUCKING MINDDD
“Don’t say you can’t.” He does something that has you dropping down from heights by circling his leg, and completely out of your control, small noises emerge from the back of your throat and you can’t kiss him back anymore. “Do you want it faster or not?”
i beg oyur pardon this PART JUS KJFDKF??? listen. listen. i usually enjoying reading abt subby men but oh god. oH GOD. THIS IS. FUCKING MAJESTICAL. and him calling reader sweet girl yeah iM NOT OKAY.NOT AT ALL OKAY. god. how he can carry reader so easily iM :)))))))))) my size kink is absolutely. melting.
It’s more like he’s saying, ‘To last for the rest of my life’, the hunger and melancholy makes for a Frankenstein’s monster of ravenous, unquenchable yearning when you’re right in front of him and your flame is rekindled.
LASD FOT AN ENTIRE LIFETIME YOU SAY BC OH GOD MY HART MY POOR HEART IMDSKJ also oh god how tender he is before he let sr reader get on top mY POOR HEART IS LIKE. EXPLODING CRYING. and then just. touching him admiring his body im.. deceased.
“Just enjoy it.” “I could if you actually did something already.”
HE IS SUCH A BRAT GOD I NEED TO EAT HIM
“That’s not nice,” you tease, pressing your legs together in momentary relief and waves of pleasure that slip on your skin like silk, and narrowly stopping the moan. You breathily add, “What do we say?” “Please,” so fast and quiet, humiliated. You understand, but don’t let him off.
EXCUSE ME HTISDFJDSF YOUR WRITING IS IS SO SOSOSO. GOD. IM IN LOVE WITH IT AND HOLY SHIT MAKING HIM BEG SJDS AAAA
You whine, this is so about not letting him touch you, and he thrusts up sharply to shut you up, sucking blossoming reds into the crook of your neck, hands pulling and pinching at your nipples. It’s building up. It’s building up, but— “You’re going to come like this.”
oh how the turn tables. my poor switch heart is. breathing heavily.
i loved loved loved this one. cant wait to read the other parts aaaa ily ILY youre so fucking talented. holy shit !!!
im so normal abt your writing SO NORMAL
moth to a flame | leon kennedy x reader
pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader
summary: Break-ups are never easy. Thankfully, you've been preparing for yours for a long time. Leon doesn't let this revelation go for reasons you cannot fathom when he's the one who wants to leave.
word count: 9K
warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, p in v, kinda body worship, switch leon, he subs for like a moment and goes this better not awaken anything in me
notes: i winged this please don't judge me. also, "plot"-wise, this is an extension of my leon love language post. header template can be found here. enjoy the filth
🌀 read on ao3!
📍 continue to the BAD ENDING!
📍 continue to the GOOD ENDING!
In hindsight, you’ve seen this coming. Your face barely moves at your on and off situationship of two years forcing out, “I think we should break this off.”
So faint and unsure it’s barely above a whisper.
He looks so uncomfortable hunching over, forearms resting on the countertop, breakfast untouched, as if trying to make himself smaller than you, it’s absurd considering the nerves of steel you envy him for, and sure, he’s adorably awkward sometimes for a man of his looks, but not like this. Never vulnerable like this.
The kitchen is gloomy despite the bright winter sun seeping through the windows, almost suffocating because of his uncharacteristically transparent malaise. Leon isn’t one to openly squirm, and in turn, it’s making you all the more nervous — nothing about this is fair when you were thinking you got all the practice needed from imaginary scenarios and possibilities on all the directions the eventual separation would go.
He can’t look at you, shaking his head nervously, choked by the silence. “Say something.”
How funny it is that he’s the most fit man you’ve ever known, could lift you with one arm without breaking a sweat— one bicep literally the size of your head, yet looks like he’d cry if someone touched him right now. It’s a hard to swallow, unreal pill that you’re the one doing this to Leon, making him weak like this.
You’ve never known you had that kind of power over him until now, how he says he wants to break up but would throw up if you actually say yes.
You shift in your seat, the wood of the chair suddenly digs sharply into your skin with how hyperaware your body is of all the surroundings to deviate your attention from Leon, folding your hands on your lap.
The answer is at the tip of your tongue, it was stashed away there months ago. Of course you’ll let him go.
What makes it easier for you is having consented to how absent and private he warned half the things involving him was going to be, or it’s that you knew from the start your time with him would be limited. You just don’t question it; completely skipping the first four stages of grief and jumping readily to acceptance.
The lamb knew it would be slaughtered by the nurturing, kind humans, and yet it still got attached to them; Homer straight up told the readers how the story would end right at the start of Iliad, yet the fall of Patroclus and the rage of Achilles burned the same, if not worse — you knew Leon would inevitably fall apart and run away one day, yet chose to cherish your limited time with him all the same.
It can’t be called a tragedy if you agreed to how it would end in the first place.
Leon Kennedy is ephemeral in his nature, daydream-present and lucid-absent in your life all at once. You thought of him as an outdoors cat, never really yours in the first place, randomly shows up whenever he wants to, reluctantly leaves out of nowhere — a flighty, mysterious companion who’s happy and eager to be there but withdrawn when poked and prodded.
You accept him as such, love him all the same.
You’re not sure if he loves you just as much.
Fondness and like is there, enough for him to have stuck around for this long, but you figure it’s because you’re safe and constant. You’re happy to have provided him with at least that because you’re not sure what he saw in you, to be honest.
What’s happening is painless enough to go through exactly because of this, you hadn’t let yourself get too attached to Leon knowing he isn’t into you as much as you are into him. Maybe you are deluding yourself, maybe you are numb and not as apathetic like you thought you are, but you’re convinced this is how it should go — how it’s meant to go. What’s the point when you’re aware your name won’t be at the top of his list?
The insecurity surely is a small part of the ‘Leon Kennedy Breakup First-Aid Package’ you’ve been cultivating over time in preparation to cushion your own fall when the time would naturally come, but it doesn’t cover the shape Leon is in that even when he’s the one breaking your heart, he looks like he’s shouldering the pain you’re going through on top of his.
This is why you can’t ever be mad at him. You wanted to be with him knowing the way he is, after all.
Leon is a mess despite trying not to show it, his messy straw-blond hair doesn’t shine like it usually does, he hasn’t conditioned it, the golden sheen to it wilted almost. His bloodshot, red rimmed eyes are dim in their blue, laser-focused on the black coffee mug he’s tightly gripping, the skin underneath his lower lashes spread out in faded pink-purple half-rings and it only ever happens when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep in more than a couple days’ time whenever he has to be away for an unprecedented amount of time, or gets buried too long in his paperwork. His thumbs are wiping at the place he puts his lips on and have a sip at the contents of it you’ve seen he fed some liquor to a few minutes prior. He’s awfully domestic in his black sweater and pants, not at all looking like he just asked for a breakup.
You take pity on him.
“I see. Alright.”
His head shoots up, eyes immediately finding yours, no longer blank. He doesn’t seem sure if he heard you right, expression disbelieving. “What?”
“How do you want to do this?” Mirroring Leon’s anxious movements, your own fingers trace the rim of your own teacup. “You could start gathering your things today, but if you want to call it a day, I don’t mind—”
“No—wait—what are you saying?”
“I’m saying okay, Leon.”
He winces at the name, gaze escaping from you again momentarily and he has to blink, the lack of your usual pet name for him must have hurt him, you presume. He has to swallow before talking. “This is it?”
You’re not sure if it’s directed at the end of your relationship or you letting him off easy. “I don’t understand. What else was I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know, I just—”
This isn’t being hopeful, but you ask anyway. “What did you want me to say?”
He sighs in return, tearing away his gaze and hiding it with a hand that wipes at his forehead.
Yeah, it isn’t your hopes that were crushed. You adamantly tell yourself it isn’t. He’s being nice as he always is, of course he’d question how agreeable you’re being, it’s not like his resolve is going to change. “I’m just being cooperative so we can—”
“Aren’t you angry with me?”
That was the problem?
“I’m not, Leon.”
“How can you not be?”
“Well, I…” It’s because you love him, but bringing this up would only make it harder. “I’m not sure. You’ve been that good to me along the way, I guess. I don’t resent you for anything.”
He has that subtle sarcastic look on his face you would take as mocking if you were a total stranger, but you know better. He’s being self-deprecating. You could read it. But you should, he’s thinking. You should resent me.
You don’t.
The thing with Leon is he’s too good to be true that his only flaw is being a literal ghost. A well-meaning ghost who’d send presents upon presents and work his ass off to make extra time for what he had to give up on every time your plans falls through with unexpected shit that came up from his mystery job at the White House he never talks about that has him battered and bruised each time he turns up after prolonged leaves.
Which is an oxymoron considering how attentive and absent he is at the same time. Sometimes you wondered if he’d fix his habit of being a clam about everything concerning himself after you guys were through, but imagining him becoming more open and changing for someone else hurt too much.
“Don’t you want to know why? I mean—god, why are you just taking it?”
“What do you mean taking it? You’re not doing this to hurt me, look at you, Leon, when have you last slept? It’s hard on you too.”
“That really doesn’t have to do with anything right now,” he dismisses. “How are you this unaffected? I’ll take it if it’s to get back at me…”
“It’s not.” You stand up, appetite lost. You want to wrap your food up and put it in the fridge to eat later, and this way, you don’t have to look at him while saying the sentences you have rehearsed for so long. “If you want to break up, I can’t force you to stay—or into anything you don’t want to. It’s not fair for either of us. You’ll be stuck with someone who you don’t want, and I’ll have to live with the knowledge I’m with someone who doesn’t want me.”
You find him staring at you when you’re done, your hand stays wrapped around the handle of the fridge door at how tortured he is. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shakes his head, blond strands framing his face gently swishing in the air. He does the angry eyebrow scrunch whenever he disagrees with you strongly on something you’ve said, but decides not to at the last minute, and you find yourself the tiniest bit disappointed at him not refusing he doesn’t want you. “You always— you always do this... Be angry. You have to be angry at me.”
You find refuge in the kitchen sink, washing your hands. “Stop it. I don’t want to fight, please.”
“So you are angry.”
“I’m not!” You slam the water shut a bit too forceful and you breathe for a second before turning to him. “I’m not. Angry. I’m sad, yeah. An understatement. Who wouldn’t be?”
He just says, “I’m sorry,” at that, and hates it’s the only thing he can manage to give you, it’s blatant in his face.
You take a seat at the chair directly next to him, you both need the intimacy of good communication at the moment. “But I had a lot of time to mourn, alright? It’s not that I’m taking it or being passive or whatever—”
“Mourn?”
His eyes search yours for a second, and the realization leaves him breathless, the insides of his brows raise up, making him look younger and more innocent. “You were expecting this.”
“Yeah, I mean.” Your lips press together, and you chew the insides before hopelessly shrugging, a small smile doing its best to put itself together. “Look at us. It was never going to work out in the long term. Not really. I consider two years a miracle, to be honest. I don’t know how we got this far.”
“All this time we were together.” Leon’s voice is thick, on the verge of shaking, you weren’t expecting him to take this so badly. His pupils devour all the blue from his eyes, he has never looked at you this hostile before all the hair on your arms rise up. “You were just thinking about breaking up? Have I only ever made you insecure?”
“Not all the time—it’s just—” You swallow. ““Why are you angry at me now? What did I do? You are the one breaking up with me.”
“And here you are okay with this. You’re telling me you didn’t think we’d ever work out when I—” He huffs. “I didn’t even notice a thing. You weren’t happy at all. Ever? You were uneasy all this time?”
“No, Leon, you’re not listening to me. What I expected was that you would leave one day, eventually. Because that’s how you are. That’s how your life is.” He leans back when he gets what you are alluding at, rubbing his face with a hand, refusing to look at you — but out of anger this time around. “I know you wouldn’t be able to stand being in limbo about not letting yourself go and wanting to at the same time. I know you felt bad about everything. I guess it’s just not the right time?”
You don’t say, right person and wrong time, it’s wishful thinking on your part—Leon probably doesn’t think that, someone else seems to take that crown in his heart, you know that all too well.
The muscles on his arm closest to you flexes, he must be thinking about taking your hand in his, so you remove them off the table and nestle them between your thighs. Any physical contact from him might lead to you crying in the end.
“I’m sorry I made you go through all that,” he laments. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”
Your head tilts sideways. “It wasn’t about me, Leon. Suppose I sat you down and complained you weren’t open with me, you were distant. Especially when you weren’t ready for the conversation. I’ll tell you what would have happened. Two weeks of radio silence.”
“Ah, c’mon…”
“It’s not something you haven’t done before. You said it was work, but… You know. I get it.”
Leon exhales from his nose and lowers his head, broad chest puffing up with rapid breaths, his neck is getting redder by the second. You’ve never taken him for someone with an explosive anger, but it looks like that could change any second.
“I wish you wouldn’t take this to heart, I’m not saying this to hurt you when I say I knew this was always going to happen.” You’re talking like you’re trying to soothe a tiger, and he especially looks to hate it. “You can’t possibly have expected me to ignore it. And it wasn’t going to come from me either, I’m happy to be with you either way, but—”
“That’s the problem.” He has his head between his hands, like that could possibly hide him away from the conversation. “I treat you like this and you still say that.”
You wish he wouldn’t be this hard on himself.
“I signed up for this.” He tilts his head at that, accusatory, and you get more agitated in return. “I know your circumstances. You can’t help being absent most of the time, I understand. I understand more than you think.” His forearms hit the counter loudly, he looks about to spit fire any second, but you don’t let it happen. “However. It’s no way to continue a relationship, I know that too. My perspective is that it shouldn’t be guilt that comes to your mind whenever you think of me. I wish things could be different. I wish I could be a priority to you—”
Leon’s face sours, and you stop talking when you see it.
You didn’t mean for the words to hurt him as they did, explanations becoming distraught. “Look, I like you, you know this. Possibly too much. More than I should. You have to understand that’s why I’m being this amicable with you right now. Break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?”
It doesn’t reach Leon. His gaze is faraway, defined jawline locked clenching and unclenching.
“If it makes you feel better, I was angry for a while.” His hand comes down from rubbing a circle in the middle of his brows, eyes shifting back to yours. “But it is what it is.”
“You’re not even gonna ask?” he says, defeated.
“Would you tell me anything different from what I know?”
He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a sigh, one of his legs shaking, and his head falls forward, curtains of dark blond hair covering your view of his face. For a moment, all you want is to slip your fingers into the silky strands and comb them back, take his heat away, the pads of your fingers on his smooth cheekbones, you know he’d melt into your touch straight away and his expression would lose weight of the strain he carries you can only imagine the root of most of the time, but you abstain.
He wouldn’t appreciate it on the brink of a break-up, you were about to become nothing but strangers.
That’s why it’s abrupt when he leans forward and captures your lips in an unfair, unfair kiss, the force of it makes his teeth clack against yours and you grimace, retreating to break it. His hand slips to the side of your neck to pull you back in, the drag of calluses and heat against the skin of your neck sends goosebumps all over your body, his thumb caresses your cheek in a loving way that hurts but his lips are frantic in their gentler search to open your mouth to his, and suddenly you can’t breathe from how much Leon keeps advancing.
Turning your face away to break the assertive, overwhelming liplock, you take in lungfuls of air as you look as away from him as you can, panicking at the way he presses his forehead to your temple and the way his nose nudges your burning cheek, he doesn’t budge when you attempt to push him off the second you realize you’re enjoying this. He’s built like a fucking tank. “Leon—”
“Say no if you don’t want it,” he breathes, right into your neck, the tickle is mixed with something dangerous that sears your skin along with the low rumble to his voice directly in your ear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming, a coil of incandescence binds its threads together in the depths of your stomach. “Say it and I’ll stop.” One muscular arm hooks around the back of your upper thigh and one around your waist, he quite literally snatches you off your chair and plops you down on his lap, each of your legs hang from the sides of his hips, and you yelp at how effortlessly Leon seems to arrange you to his liking.
He’s needlessly, uncharacteristically cruel. You would always want him. Leon knows this.
“You’re so—” Your breath hitches when his fingers bypass your shirt and sneak up the bare skin of your waist and his other arm readjusts you as he buries his forehead in your shoulder and you gaze at the top of his golden hair kissed by morning sunlight and take in the familiar scent of him and his shampoo. His body against yours leaves a festering sweet longing. “So unfair—you were just breaking up with me—”
He bites down at the meat of your clavicle and you draw in a short breath, the dig of his teeth sting, but he immediately soothes it with a lick and his tongue is hot, too hot. “Unfair?” he groans, you contain the shudder at the emotion he keeps at bay and at the path his blunt fingernails make above the clothing from your hips to the sides of your legs, he’s never been like this. “You already left me in your mind before this and I don’t even know exactly when.” The tip of his nose faintly traces the curve of where your neck meets the shoulder, the tickle is unbearable, aching, you wish he would have left marks instead. “You were always thinking of leaving— our time together didn’t matter to you. What do you think that makes me feel like?”
“That’s not—” You grip both of his biceps and feel the protruding veins and the flex of the muscle underneath the skin, intimidated as always by how both of your hands added together were too small to form a full hold around one. I work out a lot, was his excuse while you were first getting to know each other as acquaintances, and you’d thought how this man belonged with someone of his league. “You’re the one—”
“You dummy, I’m not leaving you because I want to.” Leon’s arms circle your waist and pulls your body flush against his in a crushing hug, his head finding home under your chin and against your chest. It’s innocent and you feel the helplessness, the desire to hold but not be seen, but you don’t know what to do in return, his words don’t quite register. “Why would I ever when I—“ He cuts himself off, breathing shaky as the rest of the sentence dies at his throat. “Jesus, I can’t believe this.”
You tentatively hold his shoulders, surprised at how taut they are. How winded he is like some wire. “I don’t understand.”
“You are just letting me leave like that. Like some business deal done and gone, you just…”
You can’t help the sound that escapes as he bites your earlobe. Why does he keep biting?
“Ow!—“ Leon starts sucking, the wet sounds and his breathing directly in your ear sending shivers down your spine, and you’ve had enough of his thought processes ending up being completed by his lips on your body.
He’s easily able to overpower you, but obeys when he feels you’re genuinely pushing him away, some strands of your hair get stuck on his face and the view of the detained obscenity of his expression —the half-closed eyes and the missing blue, the flush of his cheekbones, glistening of his pinked lips— sends a hot wave downstairs. “It’s you. You! You’re the one leaving, Leon, I don’t get it—“
Some clarity through the pinkish haze of want dawns back to him, and he gingerly combs the threads of hair away from your face, some of them behind your ear. “I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I thought it was clear as day.” Leon searches your eyes, looking down at the details of your face, your heart races as his stare gets stuck at your lips the longest, he isn’t even aware he’s doing it and you feel feverishly desired from his insatiable look, from the slow movement of his Adam’s apple. “But—“
“You can’t help it. Right?” Your thoughts are blurring together, and he’s a black hole pulling you in. “I understand—“
Leon kisses you again, and your stolen exhale turns into a pleased hum. “Stop saying that,” he whispers with inches between your lips, eyes closed, so close your breath is his.
“What do you want me to say?“
“Stay.” He takes your hand and brings it up, planting a singular kiss at the inside of your wrist, and then rests his cheek against your palm. You can only stare at the vulnerability he’s offering you on a silver platter, the tormenting softness is blinding. “Stay.”
Your heart soars. God, you’ve longed for him to give away that he wants to be with you all this time, the insecurity is a blanket you’ve hidden under, this is it, but he’s so torn and you don’t get his struggle, what he must be hiding for such a visceral reaction. He wants to, but he can’t, and you don’t know why, having accepted he wouldn’t tell you from the start anyway.
But you ask. You ask anyway. Hope is a flightless bird waiting for her wings to grow each day. “Will you?”
Something shifts, a delicate moment broken, and Leon draws back, his eyelashes flutter as if he’s shaking off some daydream — and then he’s upset, a pinch in his brow. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—“ You’re grabbed from the arms and scooted away from his lap, putting some distance between the two of you. Leon is physically pained, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.” He holds your hands between the two of you, and you get whiplash from the passion just mere seconds ago and the tenderness of this touch. “I can’t keep doing this to you. I don’t know why I’m this unreasonable, it’s so childish— Shit. I’m sorry, I’ll just—“
“No.” You cup his face in both hands and he looks like an abused puppy tasting kindness for the first time. “Stay for a bit.” Your heartstrings are tugged by the way Leon’s eyes are lit up. “I want to have you. One last time. Is that alright?”
A beat passes.
“Yeah,” he says, blanking out at first, but then repeats stronger, his fingers sink into the plush of your thighs as he licks his lips. “Yeah.” He turns his head and kisses your palm, somber. “You can have me however you want.”
Leon doesn’t look like he’s particularly looking forward to it. “You sure?”
“I’ll always want you, any day, any time,” he says, and you’re flabbergasted at the burden of his meaning. But you force yourself to look past it, look past the unguarded and unarmed honesty, choosing to interpret it in the language of lust.
“Not here, though.” You get up from his lap and he doesn’t stop you. “It’s kinda cramped.”
“We can make it work if you’re up for it,” he half-teases, one corner of his lips curling up, his eyes are humorless.
You snort. Easy for him to say. He’s fit, you aren’t, that’s why being on top can’t last half the time without his assistance. “You can. I certainly can’t.”
“You keep saying I can’t to me, knowing I take it as a personal challenge.” Leon’s touch moves up your forearm and in one swift move, he pulls you in between his legs. He leaves a kiss at the lower valley between your clothed breasts. “Maybe you’re doing it on purpose?”
You’re heating up right away. “I’m not—”
Leon pats his right leg, pulling up the sleeve of his shorts all the way up to the hipbone, exposing the well-endowed, firm thigh. “Sit here.”
“Your leg’s gonna get a cramp,” you say, but it’s hardly a complaint, your crotch has begun to contract at the thought of feeling the flawless skin slipping against your slick folds and how he would mold the tendons to fit just right for your pleasure. Expectation was pulling you tight right from the start where he had you hanging from his every word.
Leon’s almost offended. “It won’t.” But his encouragement is gentle. “Come on, sweet girl.” Hooking one arm between the two layers of the bands of your underwear and pants, he lets them snap back against your skin after he pulls considerably. “And you’re taking off all that.”
You let it go. Immediately. “Fuck, okay.”
It’s morning. You’re in the middle of the kitchen. And you’ve forgotten all of that, head lost in the beginnings of a dull throb between your legs. Your dignity would have been trampled on if you were too enthusiastic, so you try to take your time, and he asks, “How do you want to go about this?”
“Huh?”
His hands ride up your knee and inch up, his thumbs in the line of your inner thighs, and your first instinct is to press them together to alleviate the ache, but Leon’s forcing them apart. “You can have my tongue or fingers first. To help the friction.” You swallow when the nail of his thumb scratches the material of your panties and feels the slight dampness, and he’s watching your reactions very closely. “Or you could just sit down.”
You don’t have strength left in your knees anymore, head spinning with the way his darkened, narrowed gaze is simultaneously bearing down on and looking up at you, and Leon helps you settle your weight on his leg after sliding your underwear down your legs, the warmth of his palms on your naked hips alone is vexing enough and it’s embarrassing that he feels the particularly strong pulse of your sex.
He angles his leg up and you slide forward with the gathered moisture, arms catching onto his neck in surprise from the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Eager, are we?”
You aren’t normally bold like this, would let him keep softly teasing rather than give the same energy back, but there’s a certain finality to this time, your brain is liquid smooth from the tantalizing delight of his touch, and you don’t hold back to inform just what he does to you breathily. “Always for you.”
The movement of his leg staggers and you look up to see him caught completely off guard. And the next thing you know, Leon has you in a bruising kiss, or you think it has the strength to bruise, he hasn’t been this rough before, and you certainly haven’t been craved to this extent in your entire life before him.
This time you accept his tongue willingly into the cavern of your mouth, his fervent licks and gasps rise the question of who’s really the more eager one here, but it doesn’t really occupy space in your mind, limbs stilling overall from how he steals away all bodily functions with just kisses that radiate desperation.
Leon ushers your hips to languidly move when you fail as a multitasker all the while the swirl of your tongues continue to tangle, and it proves difficult as your slide against him becomes smoother and wetter with him finding just how to pull the hood of your mound while you’re pulling back and drag against it in the correct angle, flexing his thigh accordingly.
He pecks your jaw. “Faster?”
Skin contact goes straight to the tightening spiral in your stomach like this. “I can’t—”
“Don’t say you can’t.” He does something that has you dropping down from heights by circling his leg, and completely out of your control, small noises emerge from the back of your throat and you can’t kiss him back anymore. “Do you want it faster or not?”
You try to hum in agreement, but he catches you in the middle of it and jerks you forward, the sharp zap electrifies all your nerves and grants him a startled moan, you can barely see the satisfaction in his face from the sudden tears. You were somehow in control of the pace previously, but once he knows you want it faster, it’s him that anchors your hips to the edge of the stars, a man on a mission.
Leon begins to leave open-mouthed, wet kisses on your neck that has you tilting your head to give him more room, and you’re glad his heavy gaze isn’t drinking in your bliss-stricken expression anymore. “You hear that?” His question is thick. “Listen.”
The noises your wetness make sliding across the muscles of his thigh in a rapid speed makes some of the blood rush up to your cheeks, and the knot is stretched so agonizingly beyond the point of no return that you’re hurling towards absolution, legs beginning to shake and your whines become sweeter. “Leon,” you pant, the fever to keep going as he is conveyed in one singular word reaches him. “Leon—ah, mmh— I’m— Leon!”
“Yeah, I got you.” Adoring kisses are peppered along your jawline and your fingers clutch to his blond hair, pulling him in, your stiffened, perked up nipples are smushed in the press of his chest against yours, and you arch into him like a cat, lost in the ascending ecstasy. “Just let go.” He bites down and your sore walls clench around nothing, the pulsating increasing in intensity. You’re on a thrill ride, shooting up, up, up— “Come for me, sweet girl, come on, give it to me.”
With a sharp, choked cry, and the throw of your head back, the coil explodes and unravels, white sparkles in your vision, and Leon holds you down when your body tries to fly off with the force of your orgasm, the sinking of his hands into your sensitive flesh only heightens and sends crashing waves as he helps you ride through it, rocking lazily with you back and forth.
“Oh god,” you shiver, clinging to him, upper body basically draped across his chest as the pleasure rolls into a stinging ache of pain with the overstimulation, bones jiggly from the floaty feeling to get away yourself. “Too much. Leon. Too much.”
His voice is croaky. “Yeah, we’re not done yet.”
He stands up with his arms supporting your legs around his waist, and you hold on for dear life. It scares every single time he does this. Leon makes it look so easy to carry you around from room to room without breaking a sweat.
The full meaning of his words only get to you when you’re thrown on the bed, wind knocked out of you. “Leon, wait, aren’t you going to Spain tomorrow, don’t you have to prepare—”
“I’m preparing,” he says, putting one knee on the bed and oh god, the shine on his thigh, the drench, that was all you—- “Need to get my fill of you to last for the whole trip, yeah?”
It’s more like he’s saying, ‘To last for the rest of my life’, the hunger and melancholy makes for a Frankenstein’s monster of ravenous, unquenchable yearning when you’re right in front of him and your flame is rekindled.
More than one round with him is uncommon most times because he’s simply busy and moves around a lot, you weren’t used to the practice, build wired to exhaustion taking over when he was finally done with you, either hot, heavy and fast or sweet and intense, each time leaving you with honeyed sore bones and the best sleep following right after.
Arousal pools in the pit of your belly thinking about what comes next.
Kneeling at your feet, he taps your tight-locked knees. “Open up for me.”
It’s morning. He could see every detail of imperfection in this light and uncertainty washes over you for a second before you do as he wishes, the sheets crinkling and rustling beneath your shifting, and he gets on his stomach and puts one of your legs to his shoulder when you thought he would be entering you already.
Flustered, you get up on your elbows. “Leon, you don’t have to.”
“Didn’t think you wanted to get it over with right away.” Sliding his hand up, he fans his fingers on your tummy, thumb pulling at the skin dipping into your vulva, and looks up at you from his eyelashes. Little sparks of pleasure light up at each stroke. The weight of his arm is wonderful. “Breaking my heart over here.”
“It’s not that, I…”
He scooches up, and the knowingly feather-light kiss he leaves on the inside of your thigh, close — right there but not there, makes your leg twitch. “Oh, you wanted something else?” The teasing view of Leon inches away from where you wanted him was a sight for sore eyes, but his sudden hot breath on your post-orgasmic sopping heat broke your daze, making your hips attempt to jump up, but his arm had you absolutely pinned on the mattress. “Well?”
It’s not something you’d planned, but his wanton beauty looking up at you shoves an image inside your brain unexpectedly, reminding you how you’d said you wanted to have him, not the other way around. This is going to be the last time Leon would be like this with you, and there were so many things left unexplored. What would it feel like to have this feline-gracious, strapping man underneath you, to run your lips through his unbelievably sturdy body all over and return the kindness on how good he’s been taking care of you? Leon was always perfect to you. Is perfect. Your wish to present him with how exactly on top of the world he has you feeling for your final time, to return the favor.
Leon has stopped moving and it’s because of your lack of reaction and the long look of contemplation regarding him. You lift his hair away from his eyes. “Can you lay down on your back?”
“You wanna get on top?” he asks, but doesn’t object to it, moving up on the bed and sitting up, getting the hint on taking off his clothes, enamored, you watch his abdomen flex and limbs stretch like a cat’s as he slips his shirt off and throws it away and shimmy off his briefs. Every single movement of his is a wonder.
“No, I want to touch you,” you say, stare not knowing where to focus on him and his half-hard dick jumps at your words. “Explore you.”
He meets your eyes, pupils blown, and swallows, nodding. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“I wanted to have you, remember?”
There’s a semblance of a laugh and Leon rolls on his back, one knee up and hands on his stomach, blond hair fanning around his head on the sheets. He looks like a sculpture. “And how will you have me?”
“Pleasured without thinking of pleasuring,” you explain, he’d be better at the dirty-talk in your position, perhaps say something like ‘Crying for me’, but you’re way too fascinated by him to think about what would have him helplessly turned on. “Vulnerable.”
You would be lucky if you are able to push him to the point of not even one thought behind those pretty blue eyes, but you just want to make him feel good, and with that in mind, reach a hand and trail the tips of your fingers through the prominent web of veins along his forearm, his fingers jump, and you continue through his upper arm, lingering on the sharp lines of lighter-colored small scars until you reach his shoulder, feeling the cluster of the goosebumps that rise in his skin.
“Seriously?” he says with an annoyed timbre and you see him having gone completely hard, eyebrows shooting up in shock. “You’re going this slow? Am I some package you’re unboxing?”
“You seem to be enjoying it,” you murmur in interest, and Leon sulks at how you run all five of your fingernails all the way down the lower of his belly button and how it’s hardly even a graze at all. His abs keep contracting. “I barely touched you.”
“You, haah,” he sighs at you straddling and hovering above him. “Don’t need to point that out.”
Leon tries to hold onto your thighs but you maneuver him away, and unsurprisingly, he isn’t pleased by that, groaning. “Oh we’re doing this?”
“I’m touching you. Stay still like a good boy.”
It’s your usual banter, but for some reason, he turns his face away and closes his eyes for a second, wetting his lips as if his mouth is dry. The line of his neck clenches and unclenches and you feel the brush of his dick lightly hit the inside of your leg. You’re fascinated again. He likes this more than you expected. “God, you really want to kill me.”
Leon could stop it if he wanted to. Switch it around. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. All the times you’ve attempted to ride him and your knees and calves failed you, he ended up sitting up and hugging you close, fucking up into you and kneading your insides from below and littering your shoulders with angry red marks, taking control of the pace, especially riled up from how endearing and sexy you were trying your best to pleasure him, in his words. He can do it again, but doesn’t. Just lies there, all for you, stuck between a rock and a hard place — which, in this case, is his discomfort and enjoyment. The lack of stimulation gets him going.
You lean down and nip at the corner of his mouth, and he responds immediately, turning back to you, chasing the kiss. His hands come up to your waist but you take them off, pinning them to his sides, and Leon complains through sharply breathing into your mouth. “I’ll only,” Kiss. “Hold you.” Kiss. “Please, just let me—” You lightly bite his tongue.
As if he couldn’t do it if he truly wanted to. He is letting you do this to him. Pleading. In that tone of voice, too. You’re in over your head, what is happening?
“No,” you say, kissing his jaw and caressing the hinge of his opposite jaw with your thumb, sounding stern but feeling silly inside, unsure if he’s amused by you deep down. But Leon huffs again like a spoiled brat not getting what he wants.
You’re shell-shocked, but continue your pursuit to find out what else he likes, settling on his ear, making a line through the outer rim of soft tissue with your tongue and sucking kisses until he’s shifting around, you can hear how he’s trying to level out his breathing, then you bite, and he hisses as you repeat it over and over again.
You’ve heard that some men enjoy getting their nipples played with, and you caress and massage, knead and fondle all over his torso with both hands as the switching of your gentle and silky mouth and the needling pleasure of teeth assault his ear, and you listen to his heavy breathing the occasional hitch of it until you circle around one nub, and flick it, rubbing down and pressing the pebbled nipple inwards, just like how he does it to you, and twist the other one. His face hides itself in your neck, and you let him have that, at least.
His exhale turns into sound and he shuts it down pretty quickly, opting to speak up instead. “Can you—” he begins, and then tuts, sounding nonchalant, but you hear it. You hear the thickness of contained arousal. “Can you move on already?”
“You want the other ear?”
His head jerks in your position at you saying that straight into his ear and breathing into it, you know the thin sheen of saliva coating it makes the sensation sharp and cool and warming at the same time. “No—” he says, but you ignore him, cutting the rejection off by taking his other earlobe between your teeth. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t necessary—”
“If it isn’t, why is this wet?” You ask, watching him closely, tapping the pearl of clear liquid gathered at the tip of his ramrod straight hardness. It’s scalding hot, throbbing at the contact. Leon hisses between his teeth, trying to contain it, and sighs as your index finger circles the tip to spread it around, another bead of precum swelling in the wake of your touch. His eyebrows are scrunched, lips thinning and returning to their usual plushness with him pushing them together, a dust of pink coloring his complexion, a weak glare is on you. “Just enjoy it.”
“I could if you actually did something already.”
You wrap a tight hand around Leon’s needy cock, heavy and thick, and he shouts, the cry turning into a high-pitched whine you would never dream of coming from him and he clamps a hand on his mouth right in the middle of it, hips bucking into you, head thrown back, blown eyes horrified at what he just did. His breaths are loud and shaky, face turning red in seconds, and you watch, utterly captivated. You’ve seen adorable sides of him before when he lets himself be light and his brow isn’t hanging close to his eyes in that grumpy mood, but what you have right here…
You’re drunk on this side of his, nibbling at his exposed throat. “You’ll take what I give you.”
“God,” he whispers behind his palm, with a subtle tremble when you squeeze once and let go. His hips stutter up before falling back. Leon’s embarrassed. “Fuck.”
He doesn’t retort back, all of the sass packed and left. You can’t believe this is working. That Leon’s obeying you like this. He’s leaked all over your hand. Oh my god.
And you’ve really barely even done anything to him.
You can’t help but wonder if this is you doing this to Leon or he’s just into being bossed around in general.
How further can you push?
“Look, you’ve wet my hand,” you say, bringing your glistening palm up and separating your fingers after circling the gathered precum around, a thin thread forming between the digits. Like a hawk, he watches you lap it all up and you don’t take your eyes off of his, hearing him grip the sheets. “Still gonna act like this isn’t doing anything for you?”
Leon’s voice is gravelly as he rasps, “Kiss me.” It’s something between a request and a demand that if you don’t do it, he will.
You oblige, pushing down on his chest to get him to lie down again when it’s apparently too slow and soft for him, and he avidly presses forward to make it rougher, intertwining his tongue with yours harsher to the point of your mixed drool sliding down his chin for more.
He’s yanking and pulling on his clasp on the dreadfully wrinkled covers in self-restraint as he bites and licks and pulls at your lips, butterflies light up the pit of your stomach and thrash against the liquefied rapture that throbs in your pussy and seeps out, the need for attention growing impatient by the minute.
You go down and focus on kissing his neck, alternating between openmouthed licks and bites, careful not to leave marks, insides doing a summersault at the small noise of disappointment he makes that transitions into husky gasps. Leon still is concerned with suppressing any kind of unbecoming sounds he’s appalled to come out of him, and you’re bothered by that. Pressing your palm on the head of his cock and twisting sure does the trick to vocalize him a bit, restoring your confidence.
“Ah… Can’t you just directly touch it,” he sighs gruffly. “This isn’t enough—”
“You aren’t asking nicely enough.”
His head snaps down, brows raised in disbelief, self-consciousness clouding the teased promise of bliss that edges him on, and you stare back at him pointedly — however, on the inside, you’re worried if he’d ever beg at all.
You twist your palm with added pressure enough to alleviate the pain, but not enough to carry him to the peak he wants to get to, and his shoulders jump up, “Ah!” Biting down on his momentarily trembling lower lip and shaking his head with closed eyes as if he doesn’t want to see you watch him be like this, he mutters, “I’m gonna get you for this…”
You grip the base of his cock so hard his hands fly up to your wrists and with a shuddering whimper, stop at the last second before he touches you and he drapes his forearms on his reddened face instead, his back rises from the bed involuntarily, Leon’s flat-on squirming and hating it.
“That’s not nice,” you tease, pressing your legs together in momentary relief and waves of pleasure that slip on your skin like silk, and narrowly stopping the moan. You breathily add, “What do we say?”
“Please,” so fast and quiet, humiliated. You understand, but don’t let him off.
“I didn’t catch that.”
“Fuck, please, come on, please.” His hands ball into fists and his arm veins pop out and his right knee curls upwards. “You can’t keep doing this to me—AHH—mhhmh—!”
His sentence gets cut off into incomprehensible babbling once you start pumping your fist up and down his neglected erection, not even needing lotion for it, he’s drenched enough to make the slide beyond slippery. You add your other hand into the mix and begin teasing the tip, and his chest, having developed a thin layer of sweat and gleaming in the sunlight, is heaving, and he can’t swallow the gasps and noises anymore, fingernails digging into his palms. You can only see his puffed, rufescent lips from the way he’s covering his face.
“Wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’ll take it,” you say, and it’s genuine. This much alone was too much, way beyond what you thought could happen. Leon is always in control, he has it together so brilliantly that this is actually him falling apart, it’s an enthralling, spellbinding natural disaster so beautiful you can’t look away, want to touch yourself to the sight.
“I’ll show you what I have in mind,” Leon all but snarls, and he has you on your back and pulls you towards him by your legs harshly even before shivers can go down your spine. “Let’s see if you can take that.”
You pushed him past his limit it seems, and he darkly stares you down, eyebrows scrunched and beads of sweat rolling down his temples. sweat-dampened hair curtains his face from both sides. His hand slips behind both of your knees and scratches at the smooth skin of the crevice, shooting lightning directly into your core, and he hikes them up to hook over his shoulder and hugs one bulging arm around to hold them together, lining himself up with your slit with a trembling hand, dragging the cherry red, furious tip up and down, slipping it in for a bit, catching your insides in a tantalizing drag, and then taking it out next, making your toes curl in the air and drawing squeals out of you.
Leon would normally send you to the underground and back from how horribly he’d tease you for being this drenched for him, but he’s strained and silent now, snapping his hips against yours and burying himself to the hilt in the spasming cavern of your pussy in one go, with no resistance from how ready for him you were, ripping a fractured cry from you as your vision blacks and stars dance behind your eyes. He groans gutturally, cock pulsing inside, and you feel the sound in your body. You’re overly sensitive from head to toe, and even the sheets sliding against your burning skin makes your clit throb painfully, deliciously.
He doesn’t start slow or build to something, it’s quick and rough right off the bat as he’s ramming into you with no mercy, and he’s basically catapulting you into glorious completion, but you need more stimulation, more, something more—
He slaps your hand away when you try to reach down to your clit to slip two fingers between your tightly shut legs and falls on his forearms, “No way I’m letting you do that.” Leon arranges your legs to wrap around his waist, grinding against you.
His attention then shifts to something else and he pulls on the sleeve of your shirt that’s still on, a scheming shine comes to the blue of his eyes that worry you, and then he’s leaning in and forcing it up. It’s hard for you to move your back and slip it off with the way he’s pinning you down, and it dawns on you late after you make the mistake of raising your arms that it’s what he wants after all. After getting your head out, Leon turns it inside out around the entire length of your arms that act as a makeshift restraint and leaves it like that, you’re incapacitated with your hands over your head like this.
You whine, this is so about not letting him touch you, and he thrusts up sharply to shut you up, sucking blossoming reds into the crook of your neck, hands pulling and pinching at your nipples. It’s building up. It’s building up, but— “You’re going to come like this.”
The frantic slap of skin against skin is echoing in the room and you struggle against the bunched up shirt around your arms. “Can’t—”
“You’re doing it on purpose at this point.” He laces his fingers into your hair on top of your head, thumb on your forehead in little caresses, contrasting how he fucks you shallow and fast, his voice a couple octaves higher than it usually is as he angles your hips upwards to hit deeper, and your moans are a metronome in beat to his ruthless pace.
“Yeah, that’s right, take it!” Eyes glazed over, mouth agape, the muscles in his thighs jumping, body pulled taut, wrecked and somehow begging, Leon doesn’t leave a single spot unkissed on your face and throat and he’s hurling towards an uncontrolled craze, he’s so close himself. “More? You want more? Too bad, this is it—mmm—for what you just did to me, and you’re gonna take it!”
You’re clamping down on him and he hisses in your ear as you repeat it like a mantra, Leon is wrenching a merciless orgasm from you and you have no control over it, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t—!”
Leon’s delectable weight pins you down as you shoot up with the detonation of the pleasure into a thousand pieces, rippling through your body in building waves, your pussy clenching down on him catches him off guard and he unceremoniously spills into you with a choked, staccato shout shuddering, the succulent warmth coating your insides and adding to the ecstasy, and it just keeps coming, his load is too heavy and too much. Your stiffened legs lock the shivering man in place and tremble around his waist as he languidly rides his bliss out, forehead sticky against your clavicle, the sheer strength with which he holds you against him is euphoric rather than suffocating.
“God, what the fuck was that,” he mumbles at some point, collapsing on top of you and turning you around with him so he won’t crush you, pulling you to his sweaty chest and putting his chin on top of your head. His scent has you in a fuzzy daze. “What did you do to me?”
You don’t respond, consciousness slipping from your fingers and pulling you deep into the sweet comfort of the dark.
You feel his hand on your cheek, lightly nudging. “Hey, you okay?”
“Mhm,” you manage to make out. “Wanna sleep…”
“Okay, sweet girl, I got you,” he says, soft and endeared, from far, far away.
And with that, you’re out like a light.
When you wake up, you find yourself thoroughly cleaned up, in comfortable, cotton pajamas, with no Leon in sight and a small note left on your nightstand with the keys to your apartment on top of it.
It reads: Had to go. I’m sorry about not staying until you woke up. Talk to you when I get back.
You plop back on your fluffy pillows and sigh, chest hurting. It was always going to end this way. In hindsight, you’ve seen it coming.
Your heart doesn’t agree, tears freely falling from your eyes. It’s really over. Leon really left like that. Just as he came into your life.
You don’t have the right to complain. You’d agreed to it in the first place.
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Things about the Martin Crimp Cyrano de Bergerac I have various emotions about in no particular order:
Christian being Leila Ragueneau’s pupil—bless the boy’s heart, he’s trying so hard to slot as effortlessly into Paris and its intellectual scene as possible, even if he’s still confused about most of it. (Also the implication that he comes from a rather conservative family since he didn’t understand what “genderfluid” meant at first, but cottoned on and even looked kind of impressed pretty quickly… you’re doing amazing, sweetie.)
Ragueneau noting that Cyrano hasn’t gotten any sleep last night like this is something he does regularly. How often do you think he’s come into the shop and just crashed?
Cyrano actually looking he might start crying after his meeting with Roxanne, but stifling it so quickly when the cadets arrive it’s like that emotion was never there. I just… I believe him when he says (in other translations) that he believes he’s too disgusting and ridiculous for something so noble as tears, but there’s a bigger part of him than he wants to admit that doesn’t want to cry simply because it’s Not Something Men Do. Especially not military men. There’s such a focus on gender dynamics in this production and how self-worth issues affect everyone that I one hundred percent believe that was deliberate.
Ragueneau going up to Cyrano and so gently asking him if something happened with Roxanne—not even trying to guess what really happened, just wanting to know if something went wrong… and Cyrano taking her hand without a word and giving her a little “thank you for actually understanding” look.
This Christian is such a spitfire and so genuinely witty, I love him so much. In the middle of his nose insults toward Cyrano, he does a little “come at me, see what happens” gesture, and I lost my mind. This guy has possibly even less chill than Cyrano, and that is saying a lot.
I love this Roxanne, too—she’s so warm and funny and genuinely feels like she could be your best friend in the world. So many Roxanne actresses come off as too… distant and almost intimidating, but this one is so much closer to earth.
Cyrano holding on for a little too long the first time he and Christian hug, even after they’ve pulled apart and he’s still clutching his arm… fellas…
”Imaginary men and women”… just gonna let that line sit there…
Cyrano and Christian sharing a mic within minutes of meeting each other
Cyrano introducing Christian to the cadets again as his best friend and trying to put an end to any future hazing… only for the cadets to turn on him and immediately start insulting him one after the other. And instead of slapping the one who started it and establishing that he’s still not going to take their shit—the way he usually does in other translations—Cyrano just clams up and disappears. They were all praising him and gathering around him in support about ten minutes ago, and now they’ve lined up to publicly shit on him… some friends.
Wow, they made absolutely no bones about de Guiche just wanting Roxanne for sex and nothing else. You can feel the disgust roiling off of her that entire scene.
Christian accidentally mimicking Cyrano’s accent the first time he feeds him a line in the “balcony” scene
The juxtaposition of Roxanne as a vocal feminist and “wouldn’t love be very dreary if it fell victim to the gaze of theory”—she loves the idea of love and how ideologically pure and new she wants it to be while Christian and Cyrano know things aren’t as cut and dry as they are in her textbooks. God, this translation is clever.
Christian is the one to pull Cyrano out to talk to Roxanne directly this time, and you can see the abject fear on his face when he realizes where he is…
The way Cyrano starts out imitating Christian’s accent, but then slowly phases into his own voice
The freaking Steve Martin reference, holy shit
I don’t know what to make of the more… intimate references in Cyrano’s balcony speech in this production since I can’t imagine he would feel comfortable with that, even if he’s not saying it to her face. Especially since he can’t seem to imagine intimacy without violence—“You bite my lip, you draw blood.” It’s like he’s trying to insert himself into what he thinks a “normal” romantic/sexual fantasy, and it immediately goes south once he imagines himself there instead of some other man. Even in a letter she’ll never see, that he’s tearing up so no one else will ever know what it says, those “normal” fantasies don’t come naturally to him, as hard as he tries.
The self-awareness that Cyrano knows he’s putting Roxanne on a pedestal, idealizing her—“making her an object”—and that’s why he tears up all the letters. Because he knows how they would sound to her, even if he doesn’t intend to hurt her. He knows her, and that’s why he could never tell her—he’d be just another man to her who only wants one thing, and he can’t bear for her to see him that way.
Cyrano idealizing the moon as this perfect place without sickness or hatred or societal convention holding anyone back, where he’s not looked down upon for his appearance… it’s a lot that I was not expecting from this scene.
Christian was about ready to murder de Guiche on the spot for calling Roxanne a bitch and a whore, and I refuse to believe Cyrano wasn’t sitting there absolutely seething right along with him. Get his ass, lads.
The only other promise Cyrano makes Roxanne is that Christian will be back all right… yeah, thanks for that, I needed the extra pain.
Cyrano specifically bringing up Achilles and Patroclus when he’s talking about the Iliad… they knew what they were doing. Especially right before he insists that Le Bret give his water ration to Christian.
The cadets trying to pick Cyrano up with their old battle cry, but Cyrano pointedly turning away from them, remembering what happened the last time. Except this time they’re sincere, not planning to turn on him, and he lets himself smile a little bit.
De Guiche nearly passing out from dehydration in front of the cadets. As scummy as he’s been throughout the play so far, this is the part where he usually starts to turn over a new leaf, and I’m starting to believe it at this point.
We really just flat-out had Cyrano confess to Christian that he loves him, too. This production really did say OT3 rights, and I’m here for it.
This is one of the only productions I’ve seen that really plays up the gravity of the situation when Roxanne and Ragueneau appear at Arras. For them it was just an adventure to see their loved ones, but they’re in the middle of highly dangerous territory, and the cadets thought they were enemy combatants. It’s not a game they’re playing.
Roxanne was really gonna tear de Guiche limb from limb before Cyrano caught her, damn…
”Because I could not stop for death”… I love this poem, holy shit, and hearing a re-working of it here, too…
De Guiche’s turnaround is genuinely affecting in this production, especially since he starts out by apologizing to Roxanne.
That first little tiny kiss before Christian goes in for a second one, and the way Cyrano just… bluescreens afterward… and the way he shakes his head like, “Please, this is too much at once, I can’t process this, I can’t believe that you actually feel this way…”
The heavy implication by the way all the cadets, including Christian, take their lavalier mics off that they didn’t survive the battle. Not even Le Bret survived—only Cyrano and de Guiche made it out alive among them. Cyrano’s not only lost one of the loves of his life, but also his best friend.
Roxanne sitting in front of Cyrano’s mirror in the last scene… I could probably write a whole essay about that setpiece.
Cyrano spending the first few years after Arras homeless
Cyrano’s dying this time because he got a knife in the back during a fight to defend Roxanne’s honor… holy shit…
Christian sitting on the stage during Cyrano and Roxanne’s last conversation—his specter looming over their relationship, knowing that Cyrano is still hiding things from her (that little whisper of “yes” when Cyrano asks if he would ever lie to her)
They actually referenced the real-life book that the historical Cyrano wrote!
I don’t know if I believe Roxanne when she says she’d had “plenty of other men since” Christian. Especially coming off the heels of Cyrano bold-faced lying about having been with another woman to “explain” his appearance. And I don’t know which makes it more heartbreaking.
Roxanne’s whole emotional journey after Cyrano tells her about the letters—“Have I loved two men or no man at all?”
“The hero always has… the final…”
#cyrano de bergerac#martin crimp#the schemer speaks#I feel like every time I find a new production it's like 'Achievement Unlocked: New Aspects Of The Show To Cry Over'...#The honor of my favorite productions will always go to the 1950 movie and the 2007 Broadway revival#but this was a freaking *roller coaster* and I'm so so glad I finally saw all of it.#What a fabulous cast too--I'd pay good money to see all of them in one of the classical translations of the play.
6 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Happy Pride! .... Like... more than halfway through the month lmao sorry, better late than never ig! I’ve compiled a list of some of my fave LGBT+ books, as well as a few I’m planning to read for pride/in the near future. Please feel free to reblog and add some of your own recs, especially for the sexual and gender identities that are lacking in my list!!!!!
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz: This beautiful, wholesome coming of age novel is pretty popular on tumblr and with good reason! It’s set in the 1980′s and follows Aristotle, aka "Ari”, as he grows up an tackles with his identity-- he feels like his story is written by someone else, that his path is not up to his control. Whether this is due to his complex relationship with his family, or societal expectations/stereotypes of Latinx men, or the fact that maybe his friendship with Dante might be more than that, and that kinda terrifies him. (Rep: Gay, Latinx, (I believe this is own voices) Warnings: it’s been a minute since i’ve read this but i believe some racism, internalized homophobia, and an instance of violent transphobia)
Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston: LGKNLKNGRG okay this is truly one of my favorite books of the year so far and part of the whole reason i wanted to make this. This is a New Adult Contemporary romance set in sort of a like... parallel America where a woman won the presidential election. We follow The First Son, Alex Claremont-Diaz, who’s charming, smart ass, genius icon. Him, his sister June, and their best friend Nora are easily marketable and loved by the public for the most part, but when Alex and his rival Prince Henry of England get into a public spat at a Royal Wedding, Alex and Henry must pretend to be friends to patch up relations and public image for his mother’s re-election campaign. Eventually their fake friendship turns real, and then becomes more as they get to know each other, Alex and Henry begin a secret romance that we follow over the course of the re-election year. This book is fucking HILARIOUS (like I have so many tabs for funny moments and i was trying to be restrained), but it’s just so. Like full of love and hope and it’s so beautiful???? It’s definitely political escapism from our current situation in America but still deals with current issues such as racism and homopboia, etc, but gives the reader hope for future progress. Alex and Henry’s relationship is so fun, and sexy, and beautiful and the friendships are so iconic and Alex’s journey with sexuality is... chefs kiss. Also like. Casey McQuiston mentioned that she listened to Texas Reznikoff by Mitski a lot while writing this in the acknowledgments so. what more do you need... (Rep: Bisexual (Own Voices), Gay, Biracial-- Mexican/White (Own Voices), Warnings: Racism, homophobia, mentions of a past sexual harrassment/assault. Since this is a New Adult, there are smut scenes. I wouldn’t say it’s like. Super explicit or anything but there is sex, though it’s often during Important Moments of their relationships so it doesn’t feel like p*rn-- again the sex is happening but its not in hella explicit detail or anything or for the same goal as say an erotica. P much proceed with caution if it’s not ur thing but it’s not too wild!)
Blanca y Roja by Anna-Marie McLemore: This is sort of a Snow White/Rose Red and Ugly Duckling retelling following two sisters, Blanca and Roja, who’s family curse destines that one of the sisters will be trapped into a swan’s body, never to be seen again. (So this is magical realism lmao). We also follow two boys, Page and Yearling, who were wrapped up in the magic of the nearby woods, but have returned to society. Page is a gender queer trans male, and his whole arc that was so beautiful and made me cry, but in a good way (also warning that I’m cis so like. I would love to hear what gender queer trans individuals think about the rep in this book bc I cannot really attest to it.) This book is really about sisterly love and love in general, with all the complexities that come with it. (also wlw grandma’s who grow apple’s it’s p iconic) (Rep: Latinx-- colorism plays a huge role in the story as well (Own Voices), Gender Queer Trans, Queer (Own Voices) Warnings: Some transphobia, racism, and abuse). (I believe most of Anna-Marie McLemore’s books are magical realism and have some Latinx and queer elements to them as well)
The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller: god..... This (gay ass) novelization of The Illiad is just so tragically romantic and beautiful... We follow Achilles and Patroclus as they grow up and grow closer, and eventually fight the Trojan War. There are so many beautiful quotes and scenes but like. You will most likely cry so keep that in mind eklrgerg. (Rep: Gay Warnings: Violence, there’s like..... a weird r*pe/homophobic scene)
Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan: YA Fantasy set in a world where there are three castes: Moon-- the highest caste, demons with animalistic features in a humanoid form, Steel-- humans with part demon physical features and abilities, and Paper-- fully human, the lowest caste. We follow our protaganist Lei, who despite being a Paper caste, has beautiful golden glowing eyes that end up garnering attention from the Demon King. She’s stolen from her home and forced to join The Paper Girls-- a group of paper caste concubines in training at the palace. As she tries to find a way to escape, she ends up falling for one of the other paper girls, Wren, who might be just the key to freedom. I love Lei and Wren’s relationship and I’m excited to see it play out in the sequel! (which i believe ngan said will introduce more LGBT characters) (Rep: Asian (Own Voices), WLW (I believe this is Own Voices as well). Warnings: As their role as concubines suggest, a large part of this book revolves around the patriarchy using women for power and sexual assualt/rape. There are no explicit rape scenes-- though they do occur ‘off screen’, however there are a couple attempted sexual assault scenes that I believe could be p triggering. This book is also largely about the Paper Girls taking back their power, and I don’t believe these scenes are done for shock value, however please proceed with caution. Subsequently, sexist and patriarchial views are present within the authority, though shunned by Lei, however there’s a lot of internalized sexism and objectification among some of the other Paper Girls.)
Carry On by Rainbow Rowell: I probably don’t have to talk about this one much since it’s super popular, but in what is like essentially Harry Potter but like gay and wholesome, we follow Simon Snow, the Chosen One who’s actually not that good at magic, his best friend Penelope, and his roommate and arch nemesis that’s totally a vampire but won’t admit it, Baz. (Except Baz is, like, totally in love with Simon and Simon’s just too dumb and wrapped up in his own shit to realize it). Truly just,... an iconic enemies to friends to lovers story that unfolds as the three of them try to uncover a mystery surrounding Baz’s late mother. Ik some people have found it confusing bc it’s sort of like starting the Harry Potter story off at book 7 and only getting some background info along the way but honestly I really enjoyed that lmao. Also there’s a sequel coming out this fall, Wayward Son. (Rep: Gay, Some POC rep. Warnings: not rlly any i dont think??? There’s like. some Homophobia lmao bc we can’t have a gay book without it.)
Her Royal Highness by Rachel Hawkins: This is a cute YA contemporary following Millie Quint who, post being cheated on by her best friend and wanting to have a fresh start, flies to Scotland to finish off her senior year at her Dream prestigous boarding school, joining a handful of other girls as the first female class in the institution’s history. Plus like. Cool Rocks and Scotland. Only problem is that her roomate is sort of a bitch and also the Princess of Scotland who she totally just told off. So yeah yet another royal gay enemies to friends to lovers with a dash of and they were roomates LMAO. This book could be like.... a bit cheesy and rushed but overall it was cute and like...... The Cover.... (Rep: Bisexual, Lesbian, Warnings: Some homophobia. Also this is a companion novel to Prince Charming but you don’t have to read that first, there’s just some references to the couple in that book as the Prince is well.... The Princess’ brother and where they end up so if you don’t wanna be spoiled read that first ig!)
The Devouring Gray by Christine Lynn Herman: I talked about this some in this post, but I feel like I did kinda a shitty job so. A YA fantasy/paranormal series about the descendant’s of the town’s four founding families-- Violet Saunders, Justin Hawthorne, Harper Carlisle, and Isaac Sullivan (the most iconic one). The latter three have lived in Four Paths their whole lives, protecting the town from The Gray-- p much the Upside Down from Stranger Things lmao, using powers specific to each of their families. Violet and her mother move back after Violet’s sister died in a car accident, and she’s thrust into helping save the town as the Gray grows more restless and having to uncover the secrets of her family as well as all the history brewing between the other three. The Stranger Things and Riverdale comparisons are p valid, (but like. Riverdale in the sense of small town secrets and a bunch of tense history that the kids don’t really understand and must uncover, and some like love triangle but..... not Rlly Love triangles just a mess of ppl being like oh shit i like this person and this person.... Bisexual Chaos if u will... not like. The I’m cuckoo bananas for u let’s go get high and play dungeons and dragons and smash in a bunker LRGKJRLKGJ), the Raven Cycle comparison’s are kind of a stretch, I can see the abstract comparison’s if i squint but like. Don’t go into this expecting TRC lmao. I really enjoyed the theme of grief throughout this book and seeing the powers unfold (and one of the dynamics a lot) and while not perfect the series has a lot of potential and like. Bisexuals. So. (Rep: Bisexual (two mc’s are bi and say the word!!!!!!!! As well as some secondary characters), Disabled (one of the mc’s is missing one arm from the elbow down). Warnings: Grief, Violence)
The Gentlemen’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee: Also talked about this in this post and did a better job there, but to sum it up it’s essentially a friends to lovers, bed sharing, road trip au with a dash of magic but set in the 1700′s! There’s also a sequel/companion, The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy that I have yet to read but it follows Monty’s sister, Felicity, and I believe goes more in depth with her identity. (Rep: Gay, Black, Disabled, Aromantic, Asexual, Warnings: Period typical homophobia/biphobia, racism, ableism, sexism)
Simon vs. The Homosapien’s Agenda by Becky Albertalli: Like. I don’t think i really have to explain this one LRKGJJRG but added it just in case. YA contemporary following Simon as he e-mails another gay student at his school and falls in love. (Rep: Gay, Black, Jewish, Warnings: Homophobia)
All For the Game Trilogy (The Foxhole Court, The Raven King, The King’s Men) by Nora Sakavic: If y’all have been on my blog at all you know i’m back in aftg hyperfixation mode after another reread lmao. Is it a lil messy is it a lil dramatic... yes. but i love it!!! We follow our protagonist Neil Josten, who’s been on the run from his crime lord father, The Butcher of Baltimore, since he was young. After his mother dies on the run, Neil finds a new place and adopts yet another identity, and ends up playing high school exy (a made up sport but like we’re barely here for the sports lmao), something he used to play as a child. Despite playing a new position, he attracts the attention of the PSU Foxes, who’s coach David Wymack specifically recruits players with a troubled past to give them a second chance. Neil really shouldn’t sign-- it goes against everything his mother told him, it puts him at risk of being in the spotlight for his father’s men to find him, and puts him on the same team as Kevin Day, someone from his past that knows his true identity. Still, something draws Neil to joining the team, to finally try to live instead of just survive. UGHHHH like truly this book just makes u fall in love with all the characters and the beautiful and broken found family that develops over three books and one of the most iconic and amazing (ha....) slowburn relationships ever.... Also if i recall they’re super cheap on iBooks (at least when i bought them, the first book was free and the other two were $1.99). (Rep: Gay, Demisexual, POC, Warnings: MAJOR trigger warnings for like. everything bc all the foxes have fucked up pasts. But the biggest ones are probably rape, abuse/torture, and substance abuse)
Six of Crows Duology (Six of Crows, Crooked Kingdom) by Leigh Bardugo: Idk how much I really have to talk about this bc it’s popular but I am physically unably not to reccomend this duology bc its just. So. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. The most barebones summary is that this is a YA Fantasy about six people coming together to perform an impossible heist. This is truly like...... a masterclass in developing characters and has one of the best m/f ships i’ve ever read... But also since it’s on here there is some gay shit going on, 3/6 mains are Not Straight and there’s a cute m/m couple! Also you don’t have to read the Grisha Trilogy to read this but u can if u want (I have yet to). (Rep: Bisexual, Gay, Disabled, POC, Warnings: Again these ppl have fucked up pasts, biggest are PTSD, past sexual abuse)
The Raven Cycle Series (The Raven Boys, The Dream Theives, Blue Lily Lily Blue, The Raven King) by Maggie Steifvater: Again i don’t think I really have to explain this one but like. In case you haven’t read this series it’s truly iconic..... Idk even how to explain this LKGJLJRG just like magical realism wonderfulness and found family and amazing relationships and shit.... (Rep: Gay, Bisexual, Disabled, Warnings: Abuse)
The following are books I plan to read for pride/in the near future. I can’t wholeheartedly reccomend them obviously, or fully detail all the rep/warnings, but I’ve heard some great things about these books and a lot of them have representation that the first part of the list is lacking, so I figured I would add them! (Also if I use ‘queer’ that’s because that’s the only label I have been given by the authors or reviewers, or the characters identify as queer)
Radio Silence by Alice Oseman: To my knowledge this is a really emotional YA coming of age/college story that has to do with like. A podcast? Idk a lot of people love it and side note I’ll be suing B&N bc they NEVER have it relkj (Rep: Bisexual, Demisexual, I belive Latinx.)
Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand: I believe this is a YA horror-ish novel where there’s a monster stealing girls on and island. (Rep: I believe all three main girls are queer Warnings: Since this is horror im assuming. Horror stuff LMAO)
I Wish You all The Best by Mason Deaver: A YA contemporary romance about Ben who comes out as non-binary to their parents and gets kicked out, and moves in with their estranged sister. They soon are taken under the wing of a senior named Nathan Allan and begin to fall. (Rep: Non-Binary (Own Voices), MLM/Queer, Black (im assuming from the gorgeous cover lmao. Warnings: Misgendering, homophobia, anxiety, depression)
Summer of Salt by Katrina Leno: YA Magical Realism about Georgina, who has yet to inherit the magical powers that have been passed down her family, including her twin sister Mary who, unlike Georgina, is coming into her powers. (Rep: Lesbian, Queer, Aro/Ace, Warnings: Rape and sexual assault, underage drinking, animal death, drug use.)
#books#lgbt#pride#lgbt books#idk what else to tag lmao pls feel free to add ur own yall!!! or correct anything i got wrong lmao
200 notes
·
View notes