#perdo

[foreverblondie23]

[queenofswords]

Rúnminations: I: Control

[concept/disclaimer/etc]

As I've taught the elder for years based on the surviving poems, lived experience comes to factor in. (Is this the difference in Óðinn's runemasters charge between interpret and receive? Who's to say.) So to start, I want to talk about Nauðiz, Perðo, Laguz, and the concept of control.

With Nauðiz, we have no control. We have "scant choice," we experience "state[s] of oppression and toilsome work." Many people see Hagalaz as the rune with the bad wrap, but there is agency in Hagalaz (although that's a different post). With Nauðiz, we are chilled by the frost. We have no choice. There is a lack of control, which is (in this rune's perspective, rightfully) troublesome and hurtful to us. I see Nauðiz also in relationship to Raiðo through its link with 'toil': the message, sometimes you are the horse.

The only other rune that offers no control is Perðo. Perðo, the rune of the unknown and unknowable: the dice cup of chance. As Jeanette Winterson wrote (unrelatedly), "You play, you win. You play, you lose. You play. It's the playing that's irresistible. [...] What you risk reveals what you value." We play because we have no control. If you fixed the game, if you knew for certain the outcome, it would no longer be a game—it would be something else. The joy of the game is the lack of control. In both Nauðiz and Perðo, we're given two looks at how to experience a lack of control in our situations.

I used to talk about the tensions between these two runes all the time, and it wasn't until this month that I experienced Laguz's lessons as it relates to control. Yes, yes, water, of all kinds, water and flow. Water that falls and water that swells, water that eddies, water that dazzles, confuses, terrifies. And how to learn from that. Words that, previously, landed in me like 'surrender,' 'flexibility,' 'adaptation.'

Recently, I've found another way to describe it: it's the choice to give up control. When I see it, now it says to me, You can have control here, in Laguz, if you want it—you can always swim upstream—but the suggestion is, perhaps, that you would flow further if you let go and let the current take you.

[toxicanonymity]

The Contractor. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 6 of 6)

4k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader / pt 1 / master list

STORY MASTER LIST

Warnings/Notes: I8+ some angst, dry (wet?) humping, unsafe PIV SEX (!), legal age gap. Acronyms - RICO is about organized crime. barely edited.

It’s so close.  It’s finally here. His hand slides under your shirt, runs over your back then pulls you closer. He feels so good, it’s like a dream.  But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in.  You want the truth.  You pry your lips away from his, and right away, he latches onto your neck.  “What did my Dad want?” you ask. Between kisses, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”

Joel shows you his phone and your dad is at the gate.  He thinks in silence for a moment. 

“Well, we’re not doing anything,” you offer, but your heart is pounding.  “Don’t let him in.”

“I’ve gotta let him in.  What’s he gonna think if I don’t?”

He rubs his beard and opens his home automation app.  “You’re in the pool house,” he decides.  He turns on a dim light in the pool house.  

“What does he want?” you ask.  

“Hell if I know.  Go through the basement.” 

“No way.” 

“Come on, Trouble.” 

“I’m not going through the tunnel alone.” 

He seems endeared by your fear.  “Do it for us,”  he says with a wink that makes your heart jump.  Then he gets up to take the drinks to the sink. 

“Wait,” you say. 

He freezes. 

“What were you gonna say? Now that I know . . . ?”

“Now that you know, I don’t have to worry about you finding out later and being mad.”

You kind of doubt that’s what he was going to say.  “I’m mad anyway,” you say. 

“Figured.  It’s okay.”

A car door opens and closes.  

“Go,” he whispers. “I’ll come get you when he’s gone.” 

You make it to the pantry stairs just in time.  

-

When your dad comes in, Joel says, “Welcome back.” 

Your dad asks, “Where’s my girl?”  

“Sleepin’ it off in the pool house, I reckon.  Didn’t want her to drive.” 

There’s a long pause and your heart races. 

Your dad says, “Good, good. . .thanks.” 

Damn, Joel is smooth.  He asks your dad, “Somethin’ you didn’t wanna call about?”

“Yeah. . .” 

You’re tempted to stay and hear more, but you’re also afraid of what you might hear.  You creep down the stairs quietly.  You think about going to the theater instead and waiting in one of those recliners.  It’s silly, but you really don’t want to go underground to the pool house.  The tunnel is climate controlled and has automatic lights, but it’s still spooky without windows.  

-

You’re standing near the tunnel entrance trying to work up your nerve when you hear raised voices, and now you can’t resist.  You quietly make your way back toward the stairs to listen.  If no one is going to tell you what’s going on, this is your chance to find out.  It occurs to you there’s no reason for you to go all the way to the pool house except that Joel doesn't want you to hear this.  Otherwise, you could have hidden anywhere and your dad would be none the wiser. 

A cabinet slams shut and Joel demands,  “How many aren’t you tellin’ me about?”

“Not tellin’ you? I just found out!  I’m not in charge, you know that.”  Glasses clink with ice. 

“North of the fuckin’ border again. God damnit,” Joel says. He’s even more heated than he was in the car the other day. 

Your dad asks, “What do I have to do to get you all in on this? Let’s get it done and be done with it.”

“You know what I want.  I want out.”

“You’ll be out.” 

“I want it in writing.” 

Your dad scoffs.  “You want a paper trail now? When the whole point was to keep your charges off paper?” 

“Not the charges, damnit.”

“Then what do you want in writing? You made some bad guys go away in exchange for evidence going away, now we’re square?” 

“It was supposed to be a six month contract.  Here we are, how many renewals later? And I’m still consulting.”  You can picture the air quotes with the way he says it.  

“Still better than 20 years for RICO,” your dad says. 

“Never woulda gotten the max. . . You know what? At least the wiseguys have a code.”

Your dad sharpens his tone.  “Ever wonder what happened to that evidence?”

“FUCK”  A glass shatters. “I’m never gettin’ out. Just say it.”

“This is the last-” 

“Don’t string me along with this one last job bullshit, then the job’s a whole fuckin’ cartel.  Call it what it is.  I’m an asset.  Not a contractor if I don’t got a fuckin’ choice.”

“You’re gonna be out.” 

“You won’t even give me your word.”

“Joel, you have my word.”

“Alright,”  Joel calms down a little.  “And what about you?  You ever think about your daughter in all this? You want her on tiktok seein’ your head roll off one day ‘cause you couldn’t take the loss and retire?”  

“Don’t talk about my daughter.”

There’s a moment of silence, then your dad continues. 

“We’re on the same team, buddy.  I want this over as bad as you do.  C’mon, let’s look at the intel.” 

You’re sick to your stomach.  Whatever this is sounds like it’s about your dad’s ego. What’s new. You shrink back to the tunnel and jog through it so it’s over fast.  

-

You’re laying on the couch in the pool house, and you don’t even want to think about what you just heard.  So you’re replaying the earlier conversation in your head.  The one about your stepmother and  . . . gross.  Something doesn’t sit right about it.  You’re trying to figure out why Joel would have felt guilty for you blackmailing him into sex. 

It hits you that the only reason he’d feel guilty is if it were his doing. . . If he realized you thought you had leverage and saw an opportunity.  Deprive you, make you want it that bad, see if you’d try to twist his arm into it.  And once you got there, game over?  Was he just getting off on having the power all along? Then you ask yourself the real question.  If that’s the case . . . do you wish none of it ever happened?  It’s an easy no.  

So you put that to rest and can’t help but think about what you overheard between Joel and your dad. You want to know how this all happened, but from the way Joel was talking about heads rolling off,  you’re most worried about what he and your dad are up to right now.  You want to hear it from Joel.  You want to know what his real job is.  The truth might be the only thing you want more than to fuck him.  And if he won’t tell you the truth, maybe he doesn’t deserve the latter. 

You’re exhausted from being in the sun all day.  There’s a big, heavy blanket – silky, not exactly cozy.  It’s like a rich guy blanket, probably put there by an interior decorator.  You curl up on the oversized couch and pull it over you.  There’s a bedroom, but you don’t expect this to take as long as it does, so you don’t get in bed.  You stay on the couch.  It feels like Joel is taking forever, but you’re too tired to even look at the time. You take off your shorts and bra, swaddle yourself in the blanket, and drift off. 

-

You don’t hear Joel come in or take off his pants or put his stuff on the table.  You feel cold for a moment when he lifts the blanket, but then he gets under it with you and takes you into his arms, and he’s warm.   

You stir, and Joel whispers, “You wanna get in bed?”  

You shake your head no.  

“It’s right there . . .”

“No,” you manage weakly.  You’re not remembering any of the drama at the moment, just enjoying being in his arms and too sleepy to move.  

“Ok,” he whispers, and kisses you on the head.  You fall back asleep with your head in the crook of his neck. 

. . . 

In the middle of the night, you wake up in his arms with one of his legs hooked over both of yours and his boxers pressed against your panties, which are soaked with arousal, you can feel it.  He’s only somewhat hard, but it’s enough to make you need it, bad.  He smells freshly showered but you can still catch a hint of his sweat, which makes you need it worse.  Your nose brushes his beard as you look up at his face. 

He blinks awake with sleepy eyes.  He presses his lips into yours for a long kiss that starts light, affectionate, closed-mouth, then becomes desperate, invasive. You accept his tongue greedily. He hardens right against your crotch.  His hips roll into yours, and before long, he’s rock hard, and you softly moan “mmm” into his mouth.  

He whispers, “Are you on-” 

“Yeah,” you cut him off.  Then he covers your mouth with his lips again.  Yeah, you’re on birth control, and the question makes you throb as he kisses you.  It’s so close.  It’s finally here. It’s grinding into you right now.  His hand slides under your shirt and runs over your bare back, pulling you closer against him, and he moans softly.  He feels so good, it’s like a dream.  

But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in.  You really, really want the truth.  It dawns on you this might be your best shot at getting it. 

You pry your lips away from his, and right away he latches onto your neck.  

“What did my Dad want?” you ask him. 

Between kisses on your neck, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”  

“Tell me what’s going on,” you demand.  

He rolls his arousal into your clit and you bite your lip to suppress a moan while you wait for his answer. 

 “Not now, sugar. . .”

He lifts your shirt swiftly but smoothly and palms a breast, then is hard-on drags down your thigh and you feel a damp spot on his boxers. He takes your nipple into his mouth while he pulls your shirt off, and you help him, despite your reservations.  You need the truth, but you’re aching.  Your body needs to be filled by his. 

“Not now. . . so, when?” you ask. 

“When I’m back,” he sighs.  

“Back from what?”

He doesn’t answer.  He lightly drags his lips over the top curve of your breast, over your shoulder, up your throat, your jaw, to your ear.  

-

His boxers find your drenched panties again and press against you in just the right place.   He’s so stiff, it takes your breath away, and a soft moan falls out of your mouth.  He whispers, “This is all that matters,” and you want him to be right so bad.  He nibbles then sucks your neck right under your ear. He grinds his rock-hard member into you in a slow rhythm at just the right angle.

“This,” he says, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back.  He wraps his arms around you, grinding into you rhythmically.  He kisses you again, and his tongue erases whatever words were on yours.  Blood rushes to your lips with the gentle suction of his own. With his face still on yours, he slowly, carefully takes his boxers off under the blanket. 

You slide your hand down his abdomen and your breath hitches as you graze the light padding of his lower stomach.  You find that small, circular scar and gently caress it.  He flinches, then moves your hand to his cock.  It sends a  bolt of need to your aching clit, but you still have to ask. 

“What’s it from?”

“C’mere,” he says, and latches onto your mouth again as he thrusts into your hand.  

You want his lips on yours forever.  You want nothing more than to just give in and fuck him.  You push yourself up with your arm and he rolls onto his back.  You shrug off the blanket.  He watches you in a trance as you straddle him with his cock still in  your hand.  You thumb his scar again and he says, “you know I served.”  Right.  Of course.  

His stomach rises and falls, and his head tilts slightly as he watches you nestle his naked cock at your drenched, silky underwear, right against your clit.  You roll your hips into him and moan at the friction. 

“Let’s lose these, sugar,” he pants. He hooks his fingers into your underwear and you lift each leg to slowly slip out of them.  

-

You settle back in, then close your eyes, tilt your hips, and use him to pleasure yourself.  You drag along his cock, from your clit to your dripping entrance and back, making his manhood shine with you, and he groans.  Then you lay your hips onto his again and his hips rock against you, with his unfathomably hard cock gliding firmly against your slick.  

He moans and breathes heavily.  “I gotta be inside you, sugar,“ he says as he grinds into you rhythmically.  

“I’ve gotta know the truth,” you reply, but it physically pains you.  

He groans.  “Fuck,” he pants. “What do you wanna know?”

“What you’re up to,” you say as you use your hips to massage yourself with his stiff manhood.  

He takes a deep breath.  “It’s complicated,” he says, and you inwardly acknowledge he’s probably right.  You stop moving and start to back yourself down his thighs.  You bend at the hip and hover over his cock. 

“Are you still in construction?” You stroke him slowly.  

“Still own the business.”  He adjusts his hips under you.  

“But that’s not all you do.”  You bring it almost to your mouth and take a deep whiff of his musk which makes you twitch with need. 

“No,” he quietly admits. 

You think about how to simplify this and get it over with.  You throw caution to the wind and ask,  “Do you kill people?” You thumb the precum beading at his tip.  No immediate answer.  Then, you take his salty tip into your mouth for just a kiss and he groans.  You take it out.

He sighs.  “You really wanna know?” He thrusts into your hand.

You give it another kiss. “Yeah.” 

You slowly crawl back up his body and lay half on him and he rolls toward you so you’re on your side like before.  You hook your top leg over him.  You search his eyes for an answer, but he looks down at your bodies instead.  His large hand engulfs your ass cheek, caresses it with his palm, then gives it a firm squeeze and pulls you hard against him, and your wet pussy meets his stiff cock again.  

“What do you think?” He asks quietly, then buries his nose in your neck and whispers, “Cause you’re prolly right.”  Your heart skips a beat.  You wanted more, but at the same time, it feels like he just told you everything he has to tell - or that’s what you’re trying to believe, for your body’s sake.  You don’t feel anything about what he just said. All you feel is him, and that’s all you want.  

-

He groans as he grinds into you, and his neck vein bulges. He rolls his arousal harder against your slick seam and kisses your neck. “Come on, sugar,” he says.  

You open your mouth but don’t have any words, you can only breathe.  He ruts against you again and you close your eyes with a moan.  You’re throbbing, physically aching, swollen with need, dying to have him.  

“Gotta be inside you now baby,” Joel repeats, smooth and low.  He thrusts hard against your clit, slow, but so hard.  His mouth devours yours, and your nipples harden against his broad chest.  When his stiff member drags back down your clit, he hesitates at your entrance, then puts his hand on your ass, and the tip of his cock is caught by a tilt of your hips.  Tension swells and tightens deep within you. 

He begins to slowly push the firm head of his cock into your tight, wet hole and reads your face.   You have to remind yourself to breathe. Your brow furrows.  You bite your lip and inhale through your nose.  You both adjust your hips so the angle is just right.  He pushes a little more, and the stretch of his girth makes your whole body dizzy and desperate for more.  He pauses and you just barely nod. 

The arm under you pulls you closer with his hand flat on your back while his other hand braces on your leg that’s hooked over him.  Then he pushes his stiff length into you with a grunt that becomes a loud sigh, and you gasp as his thick cock makes room for itself inside you.  He pauses when he’s mostly in, and you look into each other’s eyes.  

“Now fuck me,” you whisper.  

“Yes ma’am,” he growls.  He backs out all but the tip, then plunges into you completely.  Your mouth falls open with a moan as your bodies are finally joined and he bottoms out with a shudder.  

His lips latch onto yours as he retreats, then slams into you again with a grunt.  He buries himself in you, slow and hard, each time somehow better than the last.  Your hips roll into him, and together, you gradually up the tempo.  You kiss sloppily, half your mouths breathing heavily and vocalizing against each other’s cheek. Each exhale is a moan.

His hips roll fluidly against yours and his whole body tells you how bad he’s been wanting this. Every time he fills you up, you could cry from how good it feels.  He opens his mouth wide and puts it on your neck again, gently sucking your delicate skin into his mouth.  He grabs hold of your ass and uses the arm under you to gently put you on your back without fully pulling out.  Your legs wrap around him and he sheathes himself entirely once again.  

You hook your fingers under the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head.  He takes in the view of your whole body again before he leans back down.  

“You look so goddamn hot,” he says, looking down at you, thrusting into you. He looks hot, too.  

The moonlight reveals a faint farmer’s tan from the barbecue.  His pecs and triceps are pumped up and flexing as he moves in rhythm.  His hair is messy and perfect.  The silver bits of his beard glisten. 

He leaves space between you and reaches down to thumb your clit, almost putting you over the edge, but you quickly take his hand and pull his body back into yours.  

“About to come?” he asks.  You nod and take a deep breath.  He thrusts into you hard then slowly rocks his hips deep inside you with his neatly trimmed hair grinding into your clit.  The tension bursts inside you and you groan his name as a massive wave of pleasure overwhelms you.  Then another.  You clench around him and your body jerks erratically.  Your nipples go almost painfully hard and drag against him.  

He pushes deeper than you thought possible, balls tightening against your ass, and you gasp and moan. Then he grunts, pulses inside you, and his whole body shudders as you milk his cock.  You keep pulsing as he fills you up with his seed. Your whole body is drunk with him.  When you’re both finished coming, he looks at you, and himself, then you again as he catches his breath.  He strokes your face and says, “god damn.” 

You almost forget you’re two different bodies until he slides out of you, leaving a void your insides try to fill. He lays on his side and takes you in his arms again.  

-

He looks so peaceful.  At the moment, you don’t care if you still don't know what’s going on.  You don’t even care if he manipulated you into wanting this so desperately.  All you care about is whether this is going to happen again, and you’re terrified of finding out it’s not.  You start to worry about him going to do this job. 

After a long silence, you say,  “You don’t wanna do it, do you?”

“Do what?” 

“Whatever you have to go and do.”

The peace evaporates from his face.  He sighs.  “No. . . No, I don’t, sugar.”  He rubs his temples with the thumb and pinky of one massive hand.  

“Then why do it?”

“No choice,” he says. 

“That’s messed up,” you say.  “I mean, not having a choice.”

“Yeah, well, it was my own dumb ass.  Thought I was gettin’ outta somethin’ worse.  Didn’t know what I was gettin’ into.” 

“How do you get out of it now?”

“Finish the job, call it a day, see what happens.” 

“Really?”

“It’s been a long time comin’.” 

A couple seconds after he says it, a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.  He doesn’t have to make the joke out loud.  You playfully pinch his cheek. 

“Worth the wait?” he asks with a smirk.  

You shrug, and he says, “I’ll take it.” You can feel your whole face and body glowing.  You don’t need to spell it out.

-

You get pensive thinking about why now, why tonight.  “You weren’t just pissed at my dad, were you?”

He chuckles, then almost seems to panic when he sees you’re serious. “God, no, Trouble. . . “   His heart rate visibly quickens on his neck.  He didn’t even have to ask you what you meant.  He wraps his arms tight around you and kisses your head.  

“So whatever happened to ‘not tonight’?” you ask. 

“Couldn’t help it,” he says.  “Neither could you.”  Well, that’s true.  “Plus, now I don't have to worry ‘bout you findin’ out you didn’t blackmail me.  That woulda broken your sick little heart.”

“Maybe,” you say, still a little paranoid, but you push the thoughts away.  

“I don’t think your dad needs to know about this,” he says.  “That woulda been a sick serve though if I was mad at him,” he chuckles.

“Did you just say sick serve. . . “

“Sick serve,” he whispers in your ear.

“I don’t think that means what you– where do you pick this stuff up, anyway?” 

“Prolly Jesse, he never shuts up.”

“So, Jesse’s-”

Joel puts his thumb on your lips.  “Said too much already,” he says. “ You gotta keep it to yourself, okay?”  You give his thumb a little bite before he takes it away. 

It’s funny, you never had anything over him before, but now you kinda do.  Not that you’ll do anything with it.  Too dangerous. 

“Yeah,” you say.  

After a long silence, you ask, “What are you gonna do when it’s over?”

He sighs and adjusts his arms around you.  “This right here,” he says.  “If you want.”  

You fall asleep in his arms again. 

-

When you wake up, he’s gone.  It’s light outside.  Birds are chirping.  You have a text from him that says “Stay here if you want. Back in a couple days.”   You don’t stay there.  It’s too creepy without him.  You go back to your apartment, but you worry about him a lot and check your phone constantly.  A few days later, you get off work, and when you walk out of the bookstore, he’s parked there, leaning against his truck, ankles crossed, wearing Ray Bans and a t-shirt, jeans as tight as ever, arms tucked under his massive biceps.  

“Here comes trouble” he says as he pushes himself off his truck.  He puts his hands on his hips and lets his pants adjust as he pops out one knee.   

Your lips meet as he wraps his arms around you.  

“All done?” you ask.   

“Let’s celebrate,” he says.  “Got that same suite on the river.  Booked it for the rest of the month, so I reckon I’ll be around.”  

-

Thank you for reading and engaging with this story for all six parts, y'all have been so awesome!

FWIW I see this as a happy ending with ominous undertones lol. I think I will come back to these two in the future (assuming there's still interest now that they've fucked). That's why I didn't blow my whole load in over explaining the subplot in this part. I initially included the sub plot so there would be an interesting basis to come back to them after the main story.

I just started another (darker) dad's best friend story: Left in Lincoln. In addition to smut it's also slow burn horror but no gore. Heed warnings. . .

-

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro @ausamocee @skythighs @jasminedragon @leeeesahhh @blushynini @momia2910 

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime  @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose 

[allebasaemaia]

doce pecado feito mel nos meus lábios.

[smut]

seus lábios eram macios como um novelo de lã, seu cheiro doce embriagava sua mente, como um mel selvagem que melava seus paladar enquanto beijava-lhe o busto liso, um vale de ondas de pele arrepiada que transbordava um calor acolhedor que pulsava o sangue impuro até os campos cavernosos que um dia jurou perante a Deus, castidade.

celibato.

palavra ruidosa, que esticava na língua e pinicava sua moral. porém para padre charlie aquilo não significava tanta coisa – na realidade ele desejava quebrar as antigas estruturas que erguiam as tradições anciãs da igreja que ele congregava.

as mãos firmes deslizavam pelas ondulações do corpo, estava zonzo de tesão e desejo, a respiração quente tocando-lhe o rosto angelical, a forma como ela lamuriava com os olhos fechados e os lábios torcidos de desejos o enlouquecia. seu corpo grande, feito uma fortaleza de ossos duros e músculos forjados por horas e horas de exerc��cios físicos e uma alimentação impecável, que encaixava tão bem para um ser humano tão vaidoso quanto ele, ergueu as pernas esguias dela para seus ombros, na posição que estava era só penetrar nela, quente e molhada, macia e tão receptiva a ele e desfrutar do prazer eterno.

prazer eterno que perdurava por minutos inconstantes. por que Deus permitiu que um dos maiores prazeres da carne fosse finito? ele se questionava, a mão no pau de veias grossas que circulava todo o sangue até lá, a sensação de topor era grande: como se ele estivesse de cabeça para baixo, o sangue indo todo para a cabeça num instante para logo descer em cascata para o pau. melado, babado, lubrificado. posicionou a cabeça rosada na buceta que o acolhia em um abraço tepido, fixou o olhar para a mulher deitada, rendida a ele, os bicos dos seios apontados para cima, a pele arrepiada, o suor brotando na testa, ela gemendo de tesão e anseio.

ele se curvou encima dela, ainda segurando o pau com a destra, a canhota indo de encontro no queixo dela firmando-o para sua direção. a fez encarar o carvão em brasa de suas íris, pupilas dilatadas quase comendo o céu nublado do olhar, sussurrou, a voz grave retubando no quarto em chamas:

— me diga de quem você pertence.

— você.

saiu em um sussurro fraco. padre charlie riu entredentes, negou com a cabeça, molhou os os lábios, encostou a cabecinha do pau na entradinha da mulher que retorceu debaixo dele. a mão canhota desceu para o pescoço dela e apertou ali. repetiu autoritário:

— repete de novo. quero fuder essa bucetinha sabendo de quem ela é.

— sua! completamente sua charlie! me fode agora porra!

padre charlie riu. um sorriso malicioso. tremeu dos pés às cabeça, assentiu satisfeito com a ansiedade dela, os olhos pidões para ele. tão indefesa e vulnerável feito um cordeirinho que se afastou do seu bando e está na mira de um lobo voraz, sedento por carne fresca.

ele acariciou o rosto dela. seus lábios encontraram com os dela, um beijo casto demais enquanto ele enfiava seu pau dentro dela, numa investida brusca que a fez resfolegar antes de aliviar a tensão.

era tanto prazer que fugia da órbita. o ar era quente, em brasas. o sabor mel dos lábios misturava agora ao sabor agridoce de porra e orgasmo. respiração descontrolada, corpos em sincronia, vai e vêm numa dança lascívia. o desejo queimando cera pelas veias, deslizando em forma de gemidos de seus lábios entreabertos, olhares dengosos e amores surrupiados um pelo outro naquela comunhão herege em busca da plenitude divina do êxtase.

e mais uma vez, no meio dos braços dela, padre charlie mayhew se perdia completamente de si: sua humanidade, virtude, sua santidade se tornavam vãs. pequeninas demais para o grande prazer que o enchia enquanto metia e fodia uma mulher que jurou jamais amar como a amava naquele momento, em sua cama, berço de rezas e choros de arrependimentos. mas ele se arrependia de fazer aquilo?

não.

ele queria mais.

provar do fruto proibido uma vez atrás da outra, até se fartar. cometer o pecado da gula com luxúria de braços abertos feito um jesus cristo na cruz. aceitando sua humanidade como um pecador que no dia seguinte iria se ajoelhar, clamar por clemência e se açoitar até tirar o sangue impuro e imputar a dor do pecado de si mesmo.

tão simples.

[trechos (imagens) do livro “o crime do padre amaro”, eça de queiróz (1875).]

[rosabienfuerte]

dibujo de una foto de una escultura por el titiritero Jusaburo Tsujimura ........

[erensbich]

JAVIER PEÑA in THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE DEAD

[stormishcl0ud]

@filhasdeumbra bom dia :)

ME DESCULPA

eu sei que deveria ter pedido permissão pra fazer seu design deles antes, pfv me perdoe :')

[thesmartass]

⋆˚✿˖° 𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎. Transcrição da entrevista de Dahlia Dufour-Lapointe ⋆·˚

Dada a urgência de nossa investigação, optamos por entrevistar DAHLIA DUFOUR-LAPOINTE em seu local de descanso na enfermaria. Seus curandeiros pedem que conste nos autos que a changeling, em seu décimo nono ciclo das estações, está sob o efeito de chás e ervas que visam sua recuperação, mas que possuem como efeito a névoa mental e dificuldade na comunicação. Esta é a transcrição da entrevista:

Investigador (a partir de agora representado por Inv neste documento): A senhorita confirma que é Dahlia Dufour-Lapoite, aluna do Instituto Militar de Wülfhere?

[ A entrevistada gruiu, levantando o polegar indicando positivamente. Nota-se que ela tem alguma dificuldade para se mover e falar devido a sequelas do incêndio] 

Inv: Vou entender isso como um sim. De acordo com o seu laudo médico, você sofreu diversas queimaduras de segundo grau. Você confirma isso?

Dahlia Dufour-Lapoite (a partir de agora representada por DDL neste documento): Você precisa do meu laudo para chegar a essa conclusão? Por Erianwood, os culpados disso não vão ser pegos nunca! É claro que eu sofri queimaduras… [a entrevistada tem uma crise de tosse no meio de sua resposta e parece alterada pelo rumo das perguntas] 

Inv: Consta aqui que você foi encontrada por Kyrell Vortirgen em uma torre afastada do castelo, qual o motivo para isso? Por que estava naquele local nesse horário específico? Você tinha algum plano?

DDL: Eu estava terminando minha anotação no diário, como faço todas as noites. Ai, ai comecei a ouvir uma gritaria, o que não era comum, então… tinha tanta fumaça… eu pensei, eu pensei nos meus livros. Tive tanto trabalho traduzindo eles, eu preciso salvar o meu trabalho. Meus manuscritos!!!! [DDL parece agitada ao recordar dos eventos da fatídica noite. Sua maior preocupação sendo livros perdidos???]

Int: Está tudo bem senhorita, os livros e cadernos que estavam em sua posse parecem ter sido recuperados com dano mínimo e estão catalogados junto com nossas evidencias, você os terá de volta assim que possivel. Agora me diga, você notou algo incomum no dia do incendio? Ou algum comportamento estranho de outras pessoas no castelo de Wülfhere?

DDL: [Parece mais aliviada ao ouvir que seus livros estão seguros. Mas balança a cabeça negativamente como resposta] Eu, eu não vi ninguém. O dia inteiro estava tentando decifrar esse texto que encontrei no dia anterior, era antigo, bem complicado de traduzir, porque não conhecia o idioma direito e o pergaminho estava desgastado. Era isso que eu queria salvar, você tem certeza que nada foi perdido? Posso pelo menos ver eles? 

Int: Infelizmente não podemos retirar as evidências de onde são mantidas, estamos quebrando o protocolo fazendo essa entrevista aqui, peço que entenda. Agora, você notou algum dragão agindo estranho no dia do incêndio?

DDL: Não, eles não fariam algo assim. Wülfhere é tão lar dos dragões quanto é nosso, você atearia fogo em sua própria casa voluntariamente, senhor? 

[O investigador parece desconfortável com a pergunta. Dahlia Dufour-Lapointe começa a dar sinais de exaustão e não parece disposta a cooperar com a investigação.]

Inv: Vou fazer apenas mais uma pergunta em consideração ao seu estado de saúde, tudo bem? Na sua opinião, quem estaria mais interessado no desaparecimento do Cálice dos Sonhos e na interrupção do acesso ao Sonhār?

DDL: Como assim o desaparecimento do Cálice dos Sonhos? Nós não temos mais acesso ao Sonhār? Você está mentindo! Diga para mim que está mentindo! 

[A entrevistada perdeu o controle de suas emoções e começou a se debater em sua maca, curandeiros interromperam a sessão de perguntas expulsando o investigador e seu assistente da ala médica. O investigador sustenta ferimentos nos braços e rosto devido ao surto da paciente. Ela se tornou uma suspeita em potencial e será submetida a uma investigação mais profunda.] 

Nota extra da transcritor deletadas do documento oficial: As garras da changeling fizeram um estrago no Jorge e ele tirou uma licença de três dias "pra se recuperar"

[foreverblondie23]

[emmenai-kalliston]

basta dopo la gioia di Lucio Corsi e aver finito di lavorare vado, ciao grazie Tumblr Italia come sempre

[crocodilesareboring]

provate la pressione a salvini grazie

[eirikhrafnkel]

*　SETTING : lições de manipulação da realidade com @angusdelaunay.

　　　Mais do que nunca, as aulas particulares com Angus deviam ser prioridade. Seu próprio nascimento era um presságio de guerra, e o sumiço do cálice e da pira o pareciam reforçar: Uthdon ainda os atacava na fronteira, mas talvez não fossem os únicos inimigos. Era apenas com a magia de Odin que podia contar, por muito que esta parecesse enfraquecer a cada dia sem o fortalecimento do sacro cardo. Talvez o professor o tivesse algum conselho para dar–algo que pudesse ajudar a manter o vínculo firme até o artefato sagrado ser recuperado. Delaunay parecia concentrado em desenhar uma série de aons para os demonstrar, mas Eirik decidiu interrompê-lo.  ❛  Sua mágica não está nem um pouco enfraquecida?  ❜  Perguntou, em iguais partes curioso e admirado que ele seguisse capaz de manipular a realidade quando a fonte do poder divino que canalizavam estava prestes a secar. Se debruçou sobre a figura do tutor e amigo de modo a inspecionar quais símbolos desenhava, tentando adivinhar qual feitiço estava prestes a realizar. ❛  Divida o segredo, pelo amor de Odin. Eu sinto como se todos os meus sentidos estivessem abafados.  ❜ Resmungou, a sensação tendo virado uma frustração constante para quem estava acostumado com o transbordar da magia do Allfather.

[toxicanonymity]

The Barbecue. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 5 of 6)

5k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader, 18+ / pt 1 / master list

The long-awaited HOG (hot old guy) barbecue. Joel watches in the reflection of the window as you get out of the pool and grab a towel.  You follow him inside. "Don't tell me that made you jealous," you say. "Turned me on," he responds, and you can tell.

NEXT: part 6 / Story Master List

WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ dry humping, vaginal fingering, jacking off, brief oral (M receiving), semi-public-ish, swallowing, alcohol, irresponsible cook-out behavior, DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, some angst, reader wears Joel's shirt, lack of PIV, blue balls. Do not read the dad as your actual dad!

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione. ty @dark-scape for the support as usual.

Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.

-

You don’t hear from Joel for days.  The first day, you’re a mess of feelings, pinballing between numb and smitten.  

You feel like you don't really know anyone in your life.  The people you thought were closest are perfect strangers.  You don't trust anyone.  Your roommate is spending all her time with that friend of Chad’s.  Your friend from home is on a trip overseas and won’t be back until the day after Independence Day.  You feel like you don’t have anyone to hang out with, talk to, or even sit in silence with.  You’re lonely and pensive.  

On the other end of the spectrum, your mind (and body) frequently drift to that long-awaited kiss, and everything that happened in that hotel suite.  You almost feel like if you can sleep with Joel, everything will be right in the world, even when it’s all wrong.  Even when he’s part of what’s wrong.  You know it’s illogical.  

-

One afternoon, for a change of scenery, you go to the bookstore with the cafe where you work.  Maybe you’re clinging to the last bit of familiarity that’s left.  On the bulletin board at the entrance, there’s a flyer for Chad's band playing at your favorite spot.  That must be why he originally came by the cafe the other day.  

While you’re in the middle of the bookstore, you get a text from Joel and your face burns when you open it. It’s a disappearing dick pic.  Not just his dick. It’s a blow job POV including his dick.  “Your souvenir,” he says, like that’s all that happened.    Your blood boils but also rushes to your loins.  

That’s all he has to say to you?  You respond, “really?” He’s trying to act like that whole car ride never happened.  

“Wanna talk about it?” he responds.  It’s nice that he offers, and your heart probably swells a little too much at the basic decency, but you’re actually not sure you want to talk about it.  You’re almost afraid to find out more.  You already wish you could rewind and live in blissful ignorance. 

-

After an exhausting day of stewing and sulking, you decide to go to Chad’s show.  It feels pathetic, but who cares? The way you see it, you don’t have anything to lose.  Chad can’t hurt you anymore.  It’s hard to imagine anyone who could.  You text Chad to let him know you’re coming.  He doesn’t text you back.  

When you get to the venue, you don’t see anyone you know, at first.  There’s still another band to play before them, so they should be hanging out near the merch table and you make your way over there.   Finally, you see their drummer behind the cash box, then you see Chad’s hair from the back.  The drummer says something to Chad, then Chad looks over at you.   Your stomach turns when you see his face.  You can only see half of it, but there’s a gauze bandage across his eyebrow and upper cheekbone.  His mouth is scabbed over.  Joel.  Chad makes himself scarce as soon as he sees you. 

You finally respond to Joel, “not really.” And that’s that.  But you don’t know how you’re going to face him or your dad when you go home for the holiday.  

-

On Independence Day, you’re so anxious that you drive right past the turn onto Joel’s street.  You don’t forget, you just decide not to turn.  You go to your friend’s house, even though you know she isn’t there.  It’s a familiar place to park your car and try to calm yourself down.  You sit there for almost an hour doing nothing but scrolling tumblr and listening to music.   

When you don’t arrive at the barbecue, your dad and Joel separately call you and you don’t answer either of them.  Based on your degree of dread with each respective call, you realize your dad is the one you least want to see.  You’re not really harboring much negativity toward Joel at this point.  

Frank texts you and you finally take a deep breath and decide to show up.  Your plan is to detach as much as possible and let yourself leave as soon as you’re uncomfortable. 

-

You pull up to Joel’s house wearing a bikini and the flannel with a change of clothes in your Billy Loomis tote.  Pretty much everyone is already at Joel’s house.  Tommy and Maria, Bill and Frank, your dad and stepmother, a couple of Joel’s neighbors, and two of your dad’s work friends, rounding out the requisite hot old guys (HOGs), according to your friend, at least. One of the HOGs, Steve, always looks at you like a piece of meat.  You used to think he was just an old  creep, but now he strikes you as a bit of a DILF. 

A light breeze carries the smell of propane and pork butt as you approach the pool gate.  Only Frank is in the pool.  You’ll probably hang out with him the whole time.  Joel is at the grill in swim trunks and t-shirt, talking to one of your father’s work friends.  He doesn't even look up when you open the gate.  His swim trunks sure do show a lot of thigh. 

Your stepmother is all over your dad.  You pry him off with a hug out of spite and to face your fears.  Then, you go to the grill and hug Joel from the side. It’s way too hot to stand there long.

“There she is,” Tommy announces on the other side of the grill.  He’s talking to a guy you don’t recognize who turns around and does a double-take.  

“This is Jesse, he works with your dad.” 

He extends his hand and says “I’ve heard a lot about you.”  

“Hmm, that sounds ominous." You can imagine being very attracted to Jesse even a week ago, but suddenly you don't have interest in anyone under 40.  

"Well I heard you like to swim, at least. I didn't wanna swim alone," Jesse says.

-

Frank has a tray at the side of the pool with a glass of wine and his phone on it.  He puts his glass of wine down when you walk up. 

"Thank God, I've been drinking by myself," he says. 

"And what kind of pairing is this for your pork butt?" you tease him as you sit down on the edge and put your feet in.   Bill just barely raises his glass to wave at you.  He's sitting alone under the shade of an umbrella, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. 

"Hey I think I have this shirt," Frank says, and takes the flannel between his thumb and finger.  He studies it contemplatively for a moment.  You catch up with Frank for a while.  

-

You call over to the grill, "Joel are you gonna swim?" 

"I'm on butt duty," he says. 

Frank gives you an inquisitive look then asks if you're gonna get in.  

You put your stuff down on a chair, take the shirt off, and start applying sunscreen.  Joel watches as you rub it into your bikini top. Then you turn around to give him a side view as you rub it into the part of your butt cheeks hanging out of the bottoms. 

Jesse moseys over within seconds and takes off his shirt. And well, damn.  When Jesse raises his eyebrows at you, you realize you've been staring while lazily reaching over your shoulder and applying sunscreen.  You were really just looking at his tattoos.  Mostly. 

“Nice ink,” you say.  

"Need a hand?" He asks. Why not? You hand Jesse the sunscreen and watch his face as he squirts some into his palm. He bites his lip. 

You turn around facing the pool – facing Joel – and stretch out one leg in front of you, keeping the other bent, while Jesse rubs lotion into your back.  He doesn’t do  it in an erotic way, but you curl your toes and subtly bite your lip as though it is. You let your legs fall open a bit. 

You lower yourself into the pool and have small talk with Jesse for a minute, then Joel says your real name for once and it makes your eyes go wide. He doesn't say it that loud but you still hear him from across the pool.  "Gimme a hand?" He asks. 

Jesse stays in the pool and awkwardly makes small talk with Frank. 

-

Joel watches in the reflection of his big living room windows as you lift yourself out of the pool and get a towel.  You follow him inside to the small, secondary kitchen and he closes the door behind you..

He pins you up against the counter, already aroused, and further hardens against your wet swimsuit, flooding you with desire from your core to your chest.  

"Havin' fun?" He growls in your ear. 

"Don't tell me that made you jealous."

"Turned me on," he says, low and horny. 

He kisses your chin, then your neck.  Your hands wrap around him and grab his ass, pulling him into you harder with your own soft grunt.  

He slips his hand under the damp cup of your bikini top, his fingers curving around the side of your breast, thumb resting at your cleavage.  His warm palm pushes your cold, hard nipple as he firmly cradles your breast, his hand applying slow pressure in rhythm with his hips.  Your knees are weak.  You're dripping, not just from the pool.  

He wraps his arms around you and slides his warm hands into the sides of your swimsuit bottom, grabbing hold of your cold ass cheeks. He groans, "God almighty.”  

He kneads your ass, pulling you into him and his rock-hard length.  He kisses your neck and grinds himself into you.  The feeling of his warm, thick rod slowly rutting against your clit drives you mad.  You couldn’t get any wetter.  If you don't have this man inside you soon, you might actually die. You reach into his shorts and use your other hand to try to take them down.  He doesn't stop you. 

But there’s a knock at the door.  Good Lord.  You know who it's going to be.

Joel puts his dick away and removes a big pan of coleslaw from the fridge.  He hands you the coleslaw while you open the door.  

"Am I interrupting anything?" She asks. 

"No," You say, then cock your head and add  "Am I?"  You hold eye contact for several seconds, then hand her the cole slaw and ask, "don't you and Dad have some catching up to do?" 

Your stepmother takes the coleslaw outside.  

You close the door behind her.  “Basement?,” you ask, and start toward the pantry at the back of the space.  There’s a hidden staircase that opens into the movie theater downstairs. 

Joel groans and rubs his beard.  “Later,” Joel says with a sigh.  “We better go back out.”

You scoff.  “Really?” 

“Go on back outside.” He opens the door to the main kitchen.  

-

When you get back to the pool, Jesse's already gone, talking to your dad.  When you get back in, Frank says, "You little minx."  He's got Instagram pulled up on his phone and shows you a picture from several years ago of Joel and him together,  both wearing the shirt you arrived in.  "Tell me everything."

Your face gets hot.  “Seems to be a popular shirt,” you say. 

"No," Frank says. "Shirt's just the kicker. There's something about the way you say each other's names. They sound like a secret."  Frank is good at reading people.

"What, you think I fucked him? I didn't." At least you don't have to lie about that. 

"Maybe not yet," he scoffs.  Frank looks behind you and covers his mouth, then says “Look at his shirt."  Yeah, Joel’s shirt has just the right wet spots.  In theory, they could've been from a hug. It basically was a hug.  

"Ever heard of a hug?" you say. 

Frank raises his eyebrows then holds up his glass of wine and "accidentally" clinks his wedding ring on it before downing the rest.  Bill hears it and comes over with the bottle.  Frank gives him a look with the slightest nod across the pool, like he can't even wait a couple hours to share his new gossip.  Bill's eyes dart over to Joel, then meet Frank's eyes again. As usual, no reaction is visible on Bill's face, aside from a twinkle in his eye.  "Everything to your liking, sir?" he asks Frank.  

Frank smiles, "Come on, at least dip your feet," but Bill leaves. Just as well, Frank's not done prodding you. 

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," Frank shrugs.  "But I know you want to. . . and my lips are sealed. . ."  

Frank is one of the most trustworthy people you know, so you don't worry about him spilling it.  You just don’t feel like saying it out loud and putting words to it.  Once it exists in the air, it’s something that can be broken. Something that can fall apart.  

You panic and tell Frank about Joel and your stepmother instead.  You claim you're just keeping Joel close for now while you decide what to do.  You leave out any details about what close means.  

The initial look on his face is horror, then Frank looks like he's going to cry.  "Are you okay?" 

"Chill," you say, looking around nervously. "Jesus, how much wine have you had?" 

"Sorry, I just.  I'm sorry.  I know it's hard.  That's all."  He hugs you, and over Frank’s shoulder, you see Joel looking across the pool with his brow furrowed even more than usual.

"Well, don't forget my dad cheated on my mom with her, so, whatever," you say.

"Well, exactly. That's why I worry-" 

Your face tells him to stop, so he changes the subject.  "So what about that guy from the band, is that still a thing?"

You sigh.  "Chad? No. Nothing juicy, just no."

"Got it," he says and you know you can trust him not to bring it up again.  He follows your eyes back to Joel.   You’re not off the hook, but at least you don’t have to talk about it.  

-

The actual meal is relatively uneventful. It’s hard to be around your father right now.  Deep down, you knew there were secrets.  You knew he wasn’t the most upstanding man.  You never fully trusted him after what he did to your mom.  But at this point, he feels like a stranger.  You’re almost glad his wife is cheating on him.  

Steve, the hotter of your dad’s non-Joel friends, tries hitting on you.  Asks if you like to party.  Says he bets you get pretty wild after a few drinks.  Pressures you to do shots with him.  Why not, you think.  You do one shot, but make Joel join in.  

“Bad fuckin’ influence over here,” Joel says and gives Steve a slap on the back.  Steve tries to egg you on to do more, but you don’t and neither does Joel.  

"That's why we call him Mr. One Shot," Jesse says. laughing at his own joke. 

Joel bristles at the nickname and crosses his arms, jamming his hands under his ungodly biceps.

Steve lowers his voice and asks Joel,  "How many shots in Uvalde?" Joel doesn’t answer. 

"One," Jesse says. "Miller’s too modest, you're embarrassing him," he laughs. 

Joel tenses. "Give it a rest, Jesse. Have some discretion." 

Jesse looks at your end of the table and swallows. “Right”

Your stepmother abruptly changes the subject.   She asks Jesse how old he is and why she hasn’t seen him before. She’s drunk, and every time she looks at Jesse, she looks like she could eat him alive. 

Your dad elbows Jesse.  “I think my wife likes you,” he says with a wink.  It’s awkward. 

-

Joel’s face is a little pink from the sun, and it looks good on him.  He’s looking at your face, but not making eye contact. He seems to be in a trance.  You kind of feel like you should still be mad at him, but for some reason, you’re not.  And you’re not going to deprive yourself out of spite.  You can feel Frank noticing every detail of this.  

Bill pours the last of a bottle of wine, and you volunteer to go to the wine cellar.  Bill says they’ve had enough.  Frank protests that he wants one more glass.  He asks you for a German Riesling, with a wink.  You subtly shake your head at him, falsely denying what he knows you’re up to.  

-

You stand in the wine cellar, enjoying the cool air, then sit on a cabinet that spans the whole back wall.  It’s only a few minutes before you hear Joel’s flip flops echoing down the stairs, presumably with the pretext of helping you find the wine.  He crosses the cellar without even glancing at the wine.  “Leavin’ for the fireworks in 15,” he says.  

He has that horny look in his eyes and there’s already a bulge in his swim trunks. The way his t-shirt stretches over his pecs and arms — God damn. 

When Joel reaches you, his massive hands part your knees, then lightly stroke your bare thighs.  His lips brush your temple as he says, “You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days.” 

“That’s the idea,” you say as his hands wrap around your back and he slides you closer to the edge of the cabinet.  When your crotch comes to rest against his, an acute desire floods your breasts.  You squeeze his sides with your thighs, then roll your hips into his arousal and hook your hands under his arms, bringing him closer.  

You slide your hands down his back and into his swim trunks, feeling his ass and bringing the trunks down.  At the same time, you pull his hips into you and the swell of his hard-on against your clit makes you throb with need.  You start to untie your bikini bottoms while he gropes a breast.

His mouth latches onto your neck. You let the front of the bottoms fall between your thighs, and tilt your hips in just the right way. He brings a hand between your legs and drags his flattened fingers up and down your slippery seam, then thrusts two of them inside and you moan. 

“Fuuck,” he breathes.  

You grab his cock.  “Come on,” you beg as you tug him.  He takes his hard length from you, holds it in his hand, and furrows his brow as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you.  You try to read his face.  He breathes heavily as he fingers you.   

“Fuck me already,” you beg.  

He looks down at himself and shakes his head no, but looks pained by his own answer.  

“We both know it’s gonna happen,” you say.

He takes a deep breath as though to restrain himself.  “Maybe so, but not tonight.” 

He removes his fingers and brings the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance.  A bolt of need shoots through you.  He dwells there for a moment, takes another deep breath, then lays his stiff manhood vertically against your seam and pulls you tight against him.  Then he grinds wetly against your aching clit, and your hips roll into him.  Your head falls back and you moan.  Your eyes are watery.  

“God, Joel. . .this is . . .so dumb. . . just fu-” 

You cut yourself off with a moan as he quickens his pace and grunts.

“Pleeease.” 

“Shhhhhhh,” he says.  You’re on the verge of coming and on the verge of tears. He holds you tight for leverage then goes jackhammer pace. 

“Joel. . .”

“Come for me, sugar,” he pants.  And not long after, you do.  You clench around nothing, pulse against him, and you hear the echo of a breathy “Joel” you didn’t know you said.  

He takes his cock in his hand again and looks at you with his pupils blown wide. His breath is ragged as he strokes himself.  You find yourself slipping down off the cabinet.  He doesn’t deserve what you’re about to do, you just want it for yourself, for whatever reason.  He steps back and you squat down to face level with his cock.  You hover your mouth over it, then wrap your lips around the head, and he comes with an echoing groan before you take any of the shaft into your mouth.  His cum even tastes unattainable.  Your eyes sting. 

You fix your swimsuit and compose yourself.  

“C’mere,” he says and hugs you.  You don't really hug him back.  You wipe a tear off your cheek.  He tries to kiss you, but you’re too upset, and it would make you need him even worse than you already do.  

-

Joel’s phone rings and he picks it up.  “We’re comin’,” he says.  “C’mon, let’s go.”  He puts his arm around you but your demeanor doesn’t soften.  You’ve had it with him depriving you.

“Ya know, maybe it’s a good night to talk to my dad,” you threaten as you near the top of the stairs.  

“Damn, Trouble.” You can't tell if he’s impressed or judging you.  “I said not tonight. I didn’t say never.”  

That makes you think twice, at which point you realize what you just did. . .You tried to blackmail Joel for sex. 

He adjusts his shorts.  God, what’s become of this situation in just a few days - you try to put it out of your mind.  You can beat yourself up over it later. 

Joel stops you with his hand on yours before you open the door. “Look,” he continues.  “Before you do anything stupid, there’s somethin’ I should tell you later.”  

You lean against the wall and cross your arms.  “Lemme guess, you and Dad are up to some shady, dangerous shit.” 

“Nothin’ to do with that,” Joel says, lowering his voice. 

“So you are.” 

“Dangerous, yes, shady, no. We’re the good guys. Less you know ‘bout that, the better.” 

“Why?”

“For your safety.” 

You open the door to the living room and people are milling around deciding who’s riding with whom to the fireworks.  Frank says, “hey, she didn’t get bricked in,” and hands you your bag from outside so you can change.  

-

You and Joel ride with Bill and Frank to the fireworks. Frank keeps looking back and making small talk, but you and Joel mostly look out your opposite windows. You get to thinking about what Joel said.   Not tonight. . . I didn’t say never. . . If he means that, maybe it’s worth the wait.  Maybe you should hear him out, whatever he has to tell you.

During the fireworks, you come around a little.  Joel playfully covers your ears, knowing you’ve always hated loud noises.   When Bill and Frank drop you off at Joel’s afterwards, everyone is going their separate ways.  You're relieved to see your dad and stepmother drive off before you have to say goodbye.   

You start to go to your car, wanting to quit while you're ahead and not end up begging for it again. Joel stops you with gentle hands on your shoulders.

"Come in for a minute. Let's talk." A pit opens in your stomach. 

The two of you go in through the pool gate.  “Lemme make you a drink,” he says.  That sounds even worse.

. . .

Joel hands you your favorite cocktail, then comes around the bar with his own drink to sit on the stool next to you.  He takes a deep breath and puts his hand on your knee.  He seems almost as nervous as you are. You can't remember seeing him nervous before.  

“Yeah?” you prompt him.  

He nods and takes a sip of his drink, then looks you in the eye.  He puts his glass down, then takes yours out of your hand and puts it down on the counter too.  

He swivels you toward each other.  He looks like he's about to say something, then something changes in his eyes.  He cradles your head with both hands, lays his lips into yours, and kisses you slow and hard, his tongue dipping into your mouth. 

After a few seconds, you don’t even notice the taste of his whiskey, and his hands trace your body on their way down to your thighs.  It’s intense but tender.  You can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of a kiss goodbye.  It scares you.  He slides off the stool and gets in between your knees, tries to put your legs around him again, and that’s certainly where your legs want to go.  But you want to hear what he has to say first. 

You pull away and your hand drifts up to your lips.  They buzz from his fervor.  Your chest rises and falls.

“Spit it out,” you tell him.   

“Right," he says.  "I dunno if you’re still gonna wanna. . .”  He downs his drink.  It’s hard for you to imagine anything that would make you not want to fuck him anymore.  

Finally, he begins.  "Alright. . . ‘member what I said at lunch the other day, 'bout how monogamy isn’t for everyone?"

"Yeah." If this is all to say it’s not for him, it’s not hitting like much of a bombshell.  Now, if he's going to tell you about other people he's fucking–when he's not even fucking you—that's a different story. 

"Well," he clears his throat and looks away.  "Your dad-"  

You interrupt him with a loud sigh.  "Just because he cheats doesn't mean you can sleep with his wife."  You’re annoyed he’s even going there.  

Joel holds up his hands as though to tell you to slow down.  "Lemme finish.  'member what I said, how even in a marriage, some couples. . . ."  He tries to make you fill in the blanks for yourself, but you won't. "Okay,”  he shifts in his seat and begins to gesticulate vaguely.  “Your dad and stepmother, they have an arrangement."  

You feel the blood drain from your face.  You think about the way she was eyeing Jesse. "Gross," you say.

He swallows and nods regretfully as you process this.  He waits patiently as your heart races along with your thoughts, then you spill them out all at once.  "I dunno why I would believe you. OR why you would believe her.  Is that what she told you?”  You laugh.  “Whatever. Even if it's true, you aren't just any guy-"

"He knows," Joel says almost somberly. “About me.”

"Oh, he knows?" you laugh. He couldn't possibly. This is a terrible attempt at defusing the whole situation for himself.  And yet, he looks like he feels bad for you. 

"The first time, he talked me into it." 

Deep breaths.  "That's insane.  That's. . .this is your new plan? Try to convince me my dad is some perverted cuckold?"

"No, not like that." He shivers in disgust. "Damn, Trouble. That's where your head went? No. . . when he. . .it was like. . . a swap.” 

Your stomach turns.  

“Okay, remember my date to Bill and Frank's wedding?  The stripper?”  Your heart sinks.  “Your dad, um, really liked her, and-"

"I get the picture," you say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, recalling that your dad did in fact really like Joel's date.  It was embarrassing.  

"It was casual with me and. Shit, what was her name. Anyway, we were all stayin' in that hotel gettin' sloshed at the pool, an-"

You open your eyes and say, "Yeah, I got it, okay?" Then, you walk over to the sofa to sit down.  He follows you.  You feel sick to your stomach and don't want to hear another word about it.  You cross your arms and slouch, sitting in silence for a moment.  

He hesitantly puts his hand on your knee, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You don’t know what to feel.

"Did you really end it with her?" You ask. 

He sighs.  "More or less." 

Now rage starts simmering in your chest. 

"Told her I wanted a break.”

Unbelievable.

“That just — it lessens the blow.  But trust me, I'm not doin' it again. Especially after how she’s been actin’." 

You wish you could believe him. 

You ask, "Why'd you let me think it was some huge secret?"

He's quiet for a moment.

"I don’t think your dad would appreciate you knowin’ about it," he says.  "But I was gonna tell you anyway."

“Yeah, right.” 

“‘Yeah. . . ‘member all those calls you ignored?”  

“But then I got to thinkin’ about it, and I guess. . . .” 

"What?”

"I," he pauses and sighs.  "Shit, I dunno, it was hot.  Really hot.  The way you acted, thinkin' you had somethin' over me. . .never saw that side of you before."

Now this you can believe.

"Next day, still thought about tellin’ ya.  But after the pool, there was no goin’ back.  I mean, damn."  

There’s a sparkle in his eye as he reflects on that.  He adjusts himself, which always makes you tingle, even now.  Especially now?  God, you have no idea.  

"Guess it kinda did somethin' to me,” he says.  He raises his eyebrows and gives your thigh a rub, but you flinch.  It isn’t personal, you’re just on edge, but his eyes get sad and he takes his hand away, resting it in his lap as he sits back lazily on the couch. 

You ask, "So why tell me now?"

"I dunno, maybe I'm growin' a conscience."  

You try to make sense of that, but you can’t.  Why would he feel guilty about you doing something as depraved as blackmailing him into sex?  

"Woulda been hot as hell though.  Maybe I shoulda let ya go through with it.  Damn.” 

It sounds like everything is up to him, and apparently, it is.  

He hesitantly rests his hand on your back and slowly rubs it.  You take a deep breath and sigh audibly.  You’re melting under his fingertips.  

He lowers his voice, “So, now that you know everything . . .”

His phone buzzes.  When he looks at it, he tenses and sharply inhales.

“Your dad’s here,” he says.

And your car is still parked outside in the turnaround.

-

Planning for the next chapter to be the last in this story. . .

[ross-nekochan]

Oggi ho beccato vicino l'ascensore il signore italiano dell'azienda in cui lavoro.

Io: buonsalve

Lui: ehilà! Madonna quest'app della Suica (carta prepagata per i treni, ndr)... sti giapponesi ste app non le sanno proprio fare

Io: ma comeee! Tecnologia così avanzata!!1!

Lui: eh sì, avanzata... fammi un fax che ti rispondo!

[originalempathplaidfreak]

"Se mi perdo”

“Se mi perdo,

tieni un capo del filo

e, con l’altro capo in mano,

io correrò nel mondo.

E se dovessi perdermi, tu tira.”

Margaret Mazzantini

[nonsolohaiku]

Come un uragano mi hai travolta e strappata da un miraggio che inseguivo.

Come un fiume in piena mi hai stretta e trasportata verso acque calme, più grandi e profonde. Dove lo sguardo si perde e si fonde con l'orizzonte.

Sei mare e sei oceano. Sei sogno e sei reale.

... E in te, io mi perdo