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chlorinecake · 5 months ago

Note

Thoughts on stalker x stalker??

— 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐣𝐲

▹ PAIRING: stalker ex bf ! jake x stalker ex gf ! reader

▹ SUMMARY: You and Jake, exes torn apart, developed a mutual obsession with each other overtime, the lingering romance coming to light with a simple flash of his camera…

▹ WARNINGS: BIG DICK JAKE who records a lil sextape of him fingering you because he's a helpless titty fixated perv, unprotected sex (cowgirl), some crying, a brief handjob and fingering session, kinda angsty

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

“Do you really see better with those glasses on?”

Jake's chocolate brown eyes peeked at you through his specs, a gentle hum rumbling from his throat before answering.

“No. I mostly wear them for the art student aesthetic I’m going for… now don't smile, pretty.”

Snap.

You let the small smile on your face relax at his instructions. “And the other reason?” You pressed, watching as he angled the lens a little higher over you this time.

“Hm, dunno... maybe because cute girls always ask about them?”

You hated it whenever he talked about other girls—

Snap.

Another click of his camera sounded throughout the quiet studio, it’s white flashes lighting up the dim room.

“So you like the attention then?” You teased, watching as his facial expression remained nonchalant.

Focused.

“Your attention? Yes,” he admitted, narrowing his eyes behind the camera. “Might be one of my favorite things, actually…”

Snap.

Good answer Jakey, you thought to yourself, trying your best to keep a neutral facial expression before him.

“One of your favorites just like old cameras, apparently...” you went on… “How come you never use the new one I bought you for your birthday last year?”

“Because,” Jake answered while lining his eyes up with the camera lens, “this one is much easier for me to carry around... I like that it’s portable...”

Why would he need a camera on the go, you asked yourself silently… even though, the reality was that Jake had actually dropped the other camera while following you one night—

Snap.

“Jeez, how many more shots do you need, Peter Parker?”

“You'll know when I'm finished,” the dark eyed boy replied with a foreign rasp to his tone, index finger gently squeezing into the camera button as he continued. “Now stick your tongue out for me.”

“I'm sorry?”

Snap.

His unusual sentence really caught you off guard this time, a feeling of chills washing over you as he took his lower lip into his teeth.

“Beautiful,” he said almost breathlessly, “just try following my directions next time though, yeah?”

“Jake, I need a break...” You sighed, changing your position on the couch as his vision remained glued behind the camera.

“In a minute, ____…”

Snap.

He used your first name on purpose because you used his, and he knew you were the type of girl who didn’t like that very much.

“I said that’s enough, alright?”

You slightly raised your voice at him, his demeanor remaining just as calm as before once a prolonged sigh escaped his throat.

“I suppose five minutes of wasted time wouldn’t hurt,” he said sarcastically, placing his red camera on the stool beside him before extending a hand, helping you off the couch.

“Thanks,” you replied half-heartedly, grabbing the large white sheet from the couch arm and wrapping it around your naked body.

“I could never get tired of this honestly,” Jake confessed, watching you intently as you poured yourself a cup of water from the nearby cooler.

“Tired of what?” You asked in between your first sip, his eyes being all over you except your face as you spoke.

“Looking at you,” was all he said for you to roll your eyes at his words, making him chuckle at your reaction.

“I’m serious, y’know that?”

“Mhm… I can tell,” you smirked with a nod, taking the last sip of your water before making your way back over to plop on the couch. “How about you go over your pictures… you’ll never know if we caught the perfect one already if you don’t check…”

He didn’t verbally respond to your suggestion, only nodding in agreement as he reached for the camera, clicking through its film.

To no one’s surprise, Jake, who doubled as your pervy ex-boyfriend and personal neighborhood stalker, felt himself getting hot all over again just from looking at the pictures of you displayed on the grainy screen.

Today's excuse to photograph you? He needed a nude model for his chiaroscuro themed visual project at the fancy art university he attended.

You knew Jake would’ve a hard time finding any other female (or male) to willingly get naked for him, so you obliged… under the small condition that he wouldn’t try to fuck you afterwards.

Simply put, your infatuation with him always made it easier to agree to whatever stupid favors he needed you to do—

“God,” he groaned under his breath, taking a seat as an attempt to hide the boner slowly growing behind his pants.

“Damn, are they really that bad?” You asked with worried brows, misinterpreting his reaction.

“N-no, not at all,” he corrected, eyes still glued to the camera screen.

“Oh... well… okay then,” you sighed with relief, or maybe it was a yawn?

The studio AC was set to such a low temperature that you couldn't help but feel a little sleepy... especially with how mundane this whole model process was getting to be.

“Can I see the pictures?” You asked, making Jake's eyes widen slightly at your request. He knew it'd be suspicious to say no so he instead gave in, reluctantly handing you the camera.

Clicking the left arrow on the circular directional button, the gallery scrolled, picture after picture, with each slide shocking you with how good they came out.

“Lovely, aren't you?” Jake nearly whispered from behind you as he leaned over the couch, his hands pulling your hair out of the tussled bun he previously styled it in for the first part of the photoshoot.

For the next series of shots, he planned to go for a more natural look, taking your hair down to let it hang as the scent of your shampoo ignited him all over again.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hard-on against the back of the couch, eager for any sort of friction that would ease the tension building up inside him.

You felt the teeth of the comb meet your scalp as he continued to comb, the simple act somehow making it even harder for him to control himself.

“You're really talented at this,” you said, just before your eyes glazed over the series of pictures following the one's he'd just taken of you.

Some were from recent trips you took to the supermarket, events you don't fully remember, and even a few scandalous shots of you through your apartment window, changing out of your work clothes—

“Thanks, but I prefer giving credit to the actual person I'm shooting,” he added, looking over your shoulder as you turned the camera off, just before he got a chance to see what you were looking at.

Though, from the almost immediate shift in the studio's aura, Jake had developed a pretty good inkling in his chest as to what you might've seen.

Your throat tensed up, chest expanding slightly with each exhale as a smile grew on Jake's face.

“Just let me know if I'm being too rough, alright?” He started, sectioning out your bangs as his hand slid around your neck, gently cradling your chin upward.

“Jake,” you choked out weakly, a shaky moan slipping past your lips as the comb got caught in a particular knot in your hair, “t-take your time, please...”

You stuttered, hoping in your heart that he wouldn't make a big deal about it.

In truth, you often watched Jake from afar yourself, not being able to get over your obsession with him, even months after you two first broke up…

Your eyes had a way of chasing stolen moments—the curve of his lips as he sipped coffee on his way to class, or the way his personal style slowly changed from denim coats and Timberland's to leather jackets and black boots.

You saw it all, seeking after it as often as you could… using it as a means to coax your own lonely desire for him.

Still, you couldn't quite shake how strange it was to see his gallery filled with images of you from every angle and emotion, even though it eventually delighted you to know that he wasn't as interested in other people as he let on—

“I'm in no rush, ____,” he said plainly, trying to redirect the energy in the room, “just relax for me... I'm not trying to hurt you...”

He chose his words wisely, releasing his hold from around your neck before making his way over to the wall where he dimmed the lights even more.

“I know, Jake,” you nearly whispered, wind flowing from the slightly opened windows as your voice flew with its gust…

“But how long have you been watching me?”

His wrists froze at your question, a mix of relief, guilt, and fear rising within every part of his body.

You turned your gaze towards him, eyes locking to reveal a mirror reflecting your similarly twisted desires, the tension screaming with ambivalence…

“Since we broke up...” He confessed, eerily loud footsteps sending shivers down your spine as he paced against the wooden floor, walking towards you, “does that bother you, love?”

You stammered at first, gentle grasp clinging to the white sheet around you. “It doesn't, Jake... not at all,” you finally mustered, watching as he licked his lips because God, he was such an anxious perv for you...

The way you looked before him in this moment, both fear and recognition present in your features as your body remained still as stone, every natural highlight of your skin looking even more gorgeous beneath the dim lights.

This entire moment was all too much for him… You were too much for him…

Slowly creeping towards you, his intense energy did nothing but make your arms sprout with tiny bumps all over.

“Good,” was all he said at first, trying to digest your body language while freeing himself from his jacket, “but I'm guessing there's something you might wanna come clean about, too, hm?”

“I… yes,” you admitted, somehow regaining your initial confidence, “since you wanna hear me say it so badly... I haven't exactly been able to get over you, either...”

He smirked at your honesty, “How bad has it gotten? The withdrawal, I mean... d'you ever think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Cute, but no...,” you scoffed, “I prefer hands-free fantasizing instead... less mess for me to clean up alone,” you smiled teasingly, tracing the arch of his jawline with your index finger.

It almost felt foreign when you did that just then...

You hadn't touched him like that in months... and even though the act was ordinary, it made you feel something intense—

“I need to take a few more shots of you like this,” he said randomly, reaching for his camera but not sitting on the opposite couch this time.

He stayed right in front of you, joining you on the couch and slightly caging you beneath his frame.

“Trying a new angle I see... these gonna be for your project or—”

“I'm gonna keep these for myself,” he interrupted, snaking his free hand beneath the sheet and lightly caressing the flesh of your thigh before kneading it, dangerously close to your core. “Just make sure you follow my instructions like I asked...”

You nodded at his words, letting your lower body relax as he gently guided your legs open, the sheet falling from over you boobs and exposing them to the air as he grazed your pussy lips with his fingers.

Jake nearly drooled at the sight of your hard nipples, clicking with his tongue to make you look back at the camera. “Start by squeezing your tits together for me,” he started in a low voice, “wanna see how well they’d suffocate my dick…”

The poor guy was still very much hard right now, and it didn't help him one bit with how wet you felt against his fingers, his skilled touch circling your clit as a feathery moan left your lips.

“C’mon pretty, do as I say…” Jake cooed, pointing the camera to you as you did just that, arching your back over the sofa arm while squeezing your tits together, his fingers quickening against your sensitive bud as he kept recording.

You're not sure what came over you just then, but you were starting to feel more than willing to do whatever Jake asked of you, especially when his fingers worked on teasing your initial tightness.

His digits curved against your g-spot, the pressure he applied only escalating as his stiff cock started leaking in his pants.

This entire moment felt strangely nostalgic, reminding you of the many times Jake would stand over while making you cream with just his fingers—

“Tell me when you're close, baby… beg for me to let you come,” he huffed, voice sounding somewhat labored as he intently watched your chest heave up and down, biting his lower lip to stop himself from kissing you.

Because as badly as he wanted to taste you, he had to capture your bliss on camera first, for the nights that memories become too vague... for the nights when fantasies don't compare to the real deal...

Your whole body was a mix of hot and cold, given the temperature of the room and the sexual energy meddling between your excited bodies.

“J-Jake…” you stuttered with a whine, clinging to the couch as your face flushed a ruddy hue, walls desperately clenching around his fingers, “please...l-let me come for you…”

The poor boy didn't know what to do with himself given how wet you were, his puppy-dog eyes looking almost in awe now that the realization had hit him:

He finally got you where he wanted you… and from your perspective, the likewise…

“You can let go now baby,” is all Jake manages to say before you're coming undone, the knot in you abdomen unraveling throughout every limb of your body as pure pleasure coursed through your starved out veins.

Jake kept the camera on your body the entire time, too, his digits only slowing down slightly to help you ride out your high.

He hadn't even fully slipped from your hole yet before a feeling of emptiness washed over you, lust-ridden eyes following Jake’s every move as his veiny hand retreated from your core.

He caught on to it, too... the way your eyes panned in on him like your own built in set of camera lenses... capturing every movement to store in your favorite mental file.

“Fuck,” Jake groaned around his own fingers suddenly, tasting the milky slick he gathered from your hole, “been missing the taste of you so bad, angel...”

“Then kiss me,” you whispered heavily, a clear sheen of Jake's saliva mixed with your sweet release painting the cupid's bow of his pouty lips.

He didn't hesitate to take heed to your words either, setting the camera down with haste before hovering back over you on the couch, not even guiding your face as he kissed your lips, humming into the contact.

The feeling of Jake's sloppy textured tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine, his hot breath doing nothing but heat up the warmth already present between your legs.

His heart pounded against his ribs as the kiss continued, his glasses eventually fogging up from how intense the contact was, compelling you to push him away for a seconds to remove his glasses, your own heart fluttering at his flushed demeanor.

“I need to touch you... r-right now,” you choked out breathlessly, not even bothering to cover your naked body now that the sheet was slipping to the floor.

It was a bit awkward at first, you'll admit, being completely naked while Jake was fully clothed. You grew tired of undressing him with your eyes and knew you had to do something about the issue throbbing behind his pants.

Before Jake could even respond, you were already pushing him back against the other side of the couch, his head plopping on the sofa arm with a gentle thud, fluffy brown locks framing his face.

The shadow of a smirk meddled over his handsome features as you eagerly yet patiently worked on unzipping his pants, the thick mound from his clothed hardness making your head spin.

There was really no point in taking things slow with him in this moment because its not like you two haven't already fucked each other before... only difference now was that it had been a while, so the nerves had built up—

“It's so red,” you remarked with a whisper, just having shimmed Jake's pants down enough for you to get his cock out, “does it hurt?”

“I'll let you know once you start touching it,” he let out with a relaxed breath, eyes once again focusing on the way you sat before him with your tits out on full display.

You took his comment as some sort of green light, gently taking his length in your grasp and pumping it in long, drawn out strokes.

His thighs were already trembling, hips grinding up into your first to gain a bit more friction.

“Fuck, stop teasing, ____,” he groaned with half-lidded eyes, wrapping his hand around yours to manually control the pace.

You let out a laugh at his neediness, swatting his hand away so you could take over again, “This is all apart of the foreplay, Jake... you know I'll be riding your cock properly before the night's out, anyways...”

Deep down, you were having just a little too much fun toying around with Jake right now, but given the sexually frustrated furrow of his eyebrows, you decided to be nice and just let him have you already.

Still pumping his shaft in your hand, you sat up on your knees to straddle him, lining up his tip with your entrance before letting your weight sink onto him, struggling to adjust to his size given how long its been since you took him.

A quiet curse fell from Jake's lips as he watched you wiggle past his mushroom tip, his veiny hands reaching forward to help you completely reach his pelvis.

You let out a shaky whimper at the sudden feeling of fullness, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to stop yourself from making any more pained sounds.

“There you go, pretty... nice and easy...” Jake cooed while still gripping the flesh of your hips, mostly because if he didn't, he would've started thrusting into you, “do you wanna stop?”

“N-no,” you practically blurted out, thighs still feeling tense despite how badly you wanted this with him, “I want you to make me cum again, Jakey... I can take it...”

Your words were like magic to his ears, his strong hand guiding your body against his as he left a tender kiss to your cheek before holding you in place, his dick moving in and out of you at a steady pace that escalated in a matter of seconds.

To be honest, you were shocked by Jake's adrenaline, your body already shaking beneath his arms as he held onto you tighter, grunting with each time your desperate walls clenched around him.

His balls bounced to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin making you shut your eyes tightly in pleasure, whining frantically at the mix of sensations.

Your eyes started to sprout with tears, damping Jake's shoulder as he fucked against your g-spot, making it nearly impossible for you to hold in your delighted screams.

Pouring out a string of whiny moans, your body subconsciously moved with his hips, Jake catching on to your reactions rather quickly as he whispered a sultry “You like that, baby?” against your neck, your head nodding lazily as you looked into each other's eyes, right before your lips crashed into his.

“I missed this so fucking badly, Jake... 'missed being this close to you,” you let out weakly, one of his thumbs going to wipe the tear of moisture sliding down your face as he kept rutting into you.

“I know, angel,” he panted, kissing you on the center of your lips before pulling back, his tip reaching the furthest its ever been inside your pussy as you rocked your hips against his, wobbly pleas of pleasure slipping past both your lips before you felt yourselves reach your peaks.

“Aww, f-f... shit,” you whined, Jake's hips still pivoting against you despite how strong the orgasm was, your thighs trembling as you felt your walls tighten around him.

“That's it, baby,” Jake cooed through heavy breaths, reeling out more of your pretty moans as he rode out your high for the last time, holding you close to him, “let it all out, angel...”

You let your legs relax, just as Jake sat himself up straight, delicate lips kissing along your jawline as he whispered against your skin, “Now you belong to me again…”

And there it was, two twisted souls basking in the very web of obsession the sewed together, a lost love blossoming yet again from a matter of stolen glances and a series of clandestine photographs bringing you back together again.

You internally yawned at the feeling of Jake's lips against you, his possessive words only making your heart sing as you reached down for the sheet, draping it over both your spent bodies...

“I've always been yours, Jake,” you smiled sincerely, ruffling the hair atop his head before falling back into his embrace, letting yourselves snuggle into the plush cushion of the couch, “even when you left me first...”

▹ Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction and does not intend to romanticize the harmfully obsessive behaviors described between the two characters. Real-life stalking is not okay my guys, so please, don’t be a sasaeng and instead seek healthy relationships !

▹ Perm Taglist ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ) : @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr

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ckret2 · 6 months ago

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So y'all know the Gravity Falls production bible that leaked three weeks ago. Someone in one of my discord servers pointed this out:

And, naturally, that spawned an entire AU.

AU Concept: Ford was kicked out instead of Stan and takes a job as a trucker to makes ends meet since he couldn't go to college, while still studying the weird and anomalous however he can.

Ford driving around from quirky small town to quirky small town, drifting through the liminal spaces of truck stops, meeting odd people in isolated diners, seeing strange things out on the road—a deer with too many eyes bounding across a two-lane highway, a flirty woman at a rest stop who doesn't blink or breathe, mysterious lights in the sky at night, inhuman growls on the CB or 50-year-old broadcasts on the radio��and taking notes when he stops for gas or food.

Aside from having gotten kicked out before graduating high school, Ford's the same person he is in canon.

He's still an ambitious guy, and here "ambitious" means working hard and saving as much money as he can—so, a long haul owner-operator who spends weeks at a time on the road. (He goes through a LOT of educational audiobooks.) Plus, this is the easiest way for him to get to travel the country; and since it looks like his "travel the world" dreams with Stan are dead, he'll take what he can get.

Since he's never in the same spot long and carries his life in a truck, almost all of Ford's research is in his journal. His bag of investigation supplies has an instant camera, a portable tape recorder, a thermometer, a flashlight, rubber gloves, and a few zip lock bags—and that's about it. It has to share space with all his clothes, toiletries, and nonperishable food when he's on the road. He doesn't have much opportunity to closely examine anything odd he finds, unless he's lucky enough to run into something when he can stop for the night. He has to cram his paranormal research around the side of his full-time job.

He doesn't live in Gravity Falls, but he knows it exists. Every time he moves—to Chicago, to Nebraska, to California—he seems to inch closer. He currently lives in Portland and usually hauls loads between the Pacific Northwest and Chicago or New York. He stops at the truck stop outside Gravity Falls when he can and has gone fishing in town a few times. He doesn't have the benefit of extensive research to know that this is the weirdest town in the world; but it seems pretty weird to him, there are local rumors about the town, and he's had some weird experiences in the area.

Plus, he can't explain it, but it's like the town's calling to him. He wants to move there, but it'd put him over an hour outside of Portland where the nearest jobs are. Maybe if somebody chucked him like $100k to build a cabin in the woods; but what are the odds of that?

He does know Fiddleford. Truck broke down somewhere and Fiddleford kindly pulled over to fix it on the fly. They looked at each other, had mutual knee-jerk "dumb trucker/hillbilly" reactions, and within ten minutes both went "oh wait you're the most brilliant genius i've ever met." Fiddleford's living the same life he was in canon before Ford called him to Gravity Falls—with his family in California, trying to start a computer company out of his garage—but they make friends and keep in contact.

One time Ford stops at a kitschy roadside knickknack store that also sells new agey magic things—crystals, tarot cards, incense, etc. He bought a "lucky" rearview mirror ornament that looks like an Eye of Providence in a top hat and hung it from his cab fan, and ever since then he's had weird dreams whenever he sleeps in his truck.

Things I don't know yet: what Stan's up to; or why Ford's the one who got kicked out. I tend to believe that in canon Stan wasn't just kicked out because he ruined Ford's college prospects, but rather because the family thought he deliberately sabotaged Ford; so in this AU, Ford would've been kicked out over a proportionate crime.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #grunkle ford #stanford pines #fanart #my art #my writing #(since i'm not posting a chapter this week this is y'all's substitute Writing And Art From Me)#(i traced the trucks & diner background and i am not ashamed bc i cannot be assed. i just wanna draw ford in Situations)#(i tried a new kind of lining & coloring on the truck! i will never be doing it again!)#(for my follower who's into vehicles: his truck's based on a late 70s Kenworth W900A. loosely. the headlights are anachronistic.)#(the design has been simplified via the logic of—)#(—'if I don't think that detail would be included in a cheap Optimus Prime toy then I don't need to draw it.')#(EDIT: over a week later i realize i typed freightliner instead of kenworth... i don't know why i typed freightliner.)#(i hope the reason no one corrected me is because no one noticed rather than because y'all think im dumb)#trucker ford au

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tojisun · 1 day ago

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tearing my hair out thinking about simon proposing to you on a random thursday night.

you two just so happened to grab coffee at the usual cafe which is pricey but they make the best mocha so it’s whatever, before ambling outside to a cozy nook, lit with fairy lights and warmed up by a portable heater. the wind is chilled but not too cold, and it is soft as it caresses your cheeks, and simon breathes in, trying to reel it in but—

you’re telling him about work; about this shitty coworker that almost made you lose all sense of professionalism, and simon is crushed by this overwhelming desire as he listens to you rant. he’s always felt the need before but it was only ever a whisper because simon has always wanted to marry you so he learned to tune it out, rationalizing to himself that it’s still too early. too young. too fragile and raw.

but it’s strange today.

you’re all angry and exhausted to the bone, and the coffees have gone lukewarm, and, hell, he hasn’t even washed his hair yet but simon—

he needs to ask. he needs to tell you.

he needs to—

your voice peters into silence as simon places a small box on the table and slides it towards you.

“what,” you rasp out, still breathless and quiet.

“will you marry me?” simon asks, just as softly. just as tentative and hesitant.

the word yes has never fallen from your lips that quickly.

#suns #simon ghost riley x reader #love truly is in the air bc i was yearning to the maximum levels a while ago

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torukmaktoskxawng · 10 months ago

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the wooden glen

Pairing: So'lek/Human!Fem!Reader

Summary: There are plenty of abandoned Resistance field labs across the Western Frontier of Pandora, and you happen to be assigned to the one that cuts through one of So'lek's usual routes to HQ.

Word Count: 8k+

Na'vi Words Used: 'eylanay - acquaintance (with the potential of becoming a friend), kuru - queue braid, 'eylan - friend, palulukan - thanator, sevin 'eve - pretty girl, kalin - sweet, mawey - calm, tewng - loincloth, tawtute - human

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of solitude, keeping sane, potential danger, smut, dni minors, oral (fem!receive), mentioned biting, scenting, and claiming, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it you skxawng), belly bulge, creampie, swearing, etc.

Taglist: @mooniequeen

~~~~~~~~~

Wooden Glen Field Lab, a Resistance Field Lab, just northeast of the Aranahe Hometree. Your new home.

It had been overrun by the flora and fauna of Pandora, left abandoned when the Resistance had to close back up due to heavy RDA activity. Several of these sites were vacated, but times have changed, and the Resistance needed these labs back up and running now more than ever. You've never been stationed at one until now, and from where you stood, it was quaint. Back on Earth, you wouldn't have been able to afford anything at even half of this shack's size, so you took it as a blessing. Thank you, Eywa.

Speaking of, you noticed something indicating a different kind of wildlife has been through here. A campfire just outside the lab on the forest floor and Na'vi-designed woven baskets and material stationed around it. Signs of the natives using this place as shelter. One of the remaining Sarentu acted as your guide and protection for the journey here, and explained that it was normal for any friendly Na'vi to rest at the scattered field labs throughout their journies and you would likely see more of them. They didn't say much else after that, however, wishing you luck and leaving once they were sure there wasn't any nearby danger around.

Taking a deep breath through your mask, you walk up to the human-fashioned shack surrounded by wildlife and vegetation. It hadn't been used in some time, so you take out your SID device and use it to power up the small complex, watching as the lights and terminal flash then power back on as if good as new. Someone had tried to turn this place into a more welcome environment, placing various small potted plants all around the space and in makeshift shelves made of tree branches. It looked a bit hippy, and you wouldn't be surprised if the former RDA-turned-rebel who lived here used to be a botanist.

Looking up, you took note of the netted hammock that was storing extra supplies and luggage up above to keep out of the way. Looking down, you're careful to watch your step as occasional rubbish and cables scatter across the floor, left abandoned by its former resident. One side of the small lab was clearly meant to be for business, hosting a work bench, the terminal, and additional medical supplies and weaponry.

On the other side, it looked more like a living space, sporting a portable counter fridge, bookshelves, and of course all of the freaking house plants. One corner looked like a reading nook, with a bean bag made of several different colored-fabric, surrounded by papers and empty paper coffee cups, the lights above giving off a warm atmosphere. Setting down your things, you decide on tidying up your new home before settling in for the night.

You must have been cleaning the space for hours by the time you heard a faint rustle outside. Looking up, you spare a glance at the rifle on the wall before bravely deciding to check out the noise without it. It's your first night here... surely there wouldn't be any danger right away, would there? As you step out of your new base, you glance around until you notice the unlit campfire. Standing there stood a male Na'vi, but not just a random stranger.

You recognized So'lek as one of the most significant Na'vi faces who tend to prowl around Resistance HQ. Everyone knows who he is, everyone knows his story, and everyone -including humans- knows to give him a wide berth. His sharp eyes had been looking directly at you, since he noticed you before you saw him, and his gaze narrowed with suspicion just as you gasp in shock.

"Oh! Hello."

His hard stare is the only thing keeping your feet frozen to the floor of your lab before he knowingly states, "You are from the headquarters."

You nod, faintly shocked that he remembered your face, especially since neither of you have shared a word until now, "Alma and Priya asked me to man this lab so it stays functional for botany research and RDA activity."

"I see."

You relax some, only for a thought to dawn in your head as you point to the Na'vi made structure right outside your new home, "Wait, is this your campfire? Have you been living here?"

"When I occasionally travel through this area, yes."

Nodding, you open your arm out wide to gesture to the whole yard outside the lab, "You were here first, so help yourself to whatever is yours. I'll stay out of the way."

"No need," he shakes his head then, the first movement he ever made upon recognizing you, "You will be staying here for a lot longer than I. And besides, I prefer to rest outside."

"Alright, will you be resting here for the night? I think it's supposed to rain so I plan on shutting down the place and locking myself in."

"I am moving on for the night. Just needed some things I left behind. I will be coming back this direction on my way to HQ in three days."

"Sounds good. Safe travels."

He nods and turns to go, before pausing two seconds and then tilting his head back toward you, "Stay alert while you're out here, 'eylanay. Do not ever let your guard down."

~~~~~~~~~

His words were haunting and bothersome, but you suppose he doesn't have a choice than to be that way after everything he's been through. Plus, he's from this world and knows its dangers better than you do. The thought that something could be lurking just outside or staring at you through the window sent chills down your spine.

As you stated, you locked down the two large doorways that open up the shack and secure all the windows, waiting until the oxygen levels are steady before removing your mask. You had closed everything up just in time, the storm hitting just moments after. Out of everything beautiful here, you didn't envy Pandora's storms, so fierce and terrifying... and you were alone.

A beep pings from your terminal and you try to pretend you didn't dash over to answer it, "Hey, Priya."

"Hey! Did you settle in okay? Is it scary? Is it dangerous? Oh, what am I saying? Of course, it's dangerous! And scary and dangerous are almost one in the same--"

"Priya, I'm fine," you smile to yourself, unsure if you missed her ramblings or not, "Everything's fine. It's actually quite peaceful here."

"Oh, good!"

"And it's comforting to know that So'lek treks through here often enough to where I won't feel completely alone and he could check in if I need any help."

"You saw So'lek?"

"Yeah, he just happened to be passing through."

"That's perfect! Oh, that makes me feel so much better! I'll make sure to send another radio with him next time so that you two could chat between each other or if you need him to check on you. Oh, this is gonna be great! You guys can chat to each other whenever you need some company!"

"Uh, Priya...?"

"I mean, just think about it! You're going to be living alone in the middle of the forest and he's constantly traveling alone. It's perfect! So cool!"

"Okay..." You try not to sound a little put-off by her suggestion but decided to kindly cut her off, "Hey, I think I'm gonna clock out for the night. I'm tired from the cleaning."

"Cleaning? Why did you need to clean?"

~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, So'lek comes back through, as promised. He immediately finds you outside, in your mask, wearing worn-out clothes while you work around and monitor the plants that the resident before you had planted. The plan was for you to continue their work, and while you weren't a botanist, you figured that the notes the previous tenant left behind could help you continue their research.

Looking up from taking notes, you noticed So'lek standing a half a dozen yards away from you. To attempt at being friendly, you wave him over and feel both surprise and pride when he walks closer to join you.

"I half expected to find you dead already."

"Only half?" You snort in amusement, "It's nice to hear that you had some faith in me, if only a little bit."

He kept his face blank, not reacting to your tease, "I still would never drop my guard if I were you, 'eylanay."

"Yes, yes, I know," you take note of the direction he came in and come up with your own observation, "Are you heading back to HQ?"

He nods and you flash a small smile of sympathy, "A word of warning? Priya is going to be handing you a radio to bring back to me when you get there. She wants to make sure you and I keep in contact should I ever need help."

You don't miss the small grimace on his face when you mention Priya. You can't entirely blame him, knowing that Priya is a lot to handle for someone who prefers to be left alone, and everyone knows how desperate Priya is to make Na'vi friends, So'lek most of all.

He nods once more, schooling his face back to something more neutral, "Very well. Is there anything else you need from Headquarters?"

"Uh... when do you think you'll be coming back through?"

"Less than a week."

"Maybe some rations then, just to be safe."

~~~~~~~~~

That is basically the gist of your conversations with So'lek for the next upcoming month. Every time he comes through, whether heading to or from Resistance HQ, he makes time for small talk, talk that only lasts less than ten minutes, then he's gone before you have time to say goodbye. It doesn't bother you a whole lot, but that could be from the feeling of loneliness. You'll take a few moments of conversation with practically anyone and anything if it will keep you sane from your solitude, even So'lek, who was hardly one for words to begin with. Part of you wondered if you'll end up like him if you continued working alone in this lab without anyone else to talk to you.

He never stays the night at his campfire, or maybe he does and he happens to leave before you even wake up. Either way, you never see him sitting outside or sleeping by the fire as you imagined he once did before you came along and took his space. He brings back any supplies you ask of him whenever he's on his way back from headquarters, and sometimes he brings items that Priya practically had to beg him to take to you. They weren't necessities, but you appreciated the comics and recordings of guitar solos one of the Resistance members likely cooked up. You didn't believe Priya would be capable, but you had to wonder whoever was sneaking you dirty romance novels among those supplies, and how your suspicions only heightened when you realize the novels were about a human female and her alien male lover. Despite how horrified you felt when discovering that little surprise hidden among your rations, it was... comforting, to say the least. It helped keep you sane and one with your humanity. You were also thankful that So'lek didn't appear to notice what he was tasked to give you.

One month turns into two, and there was a patch of weeks where you hadn't seen So'lek at all. A part of you told yourself not to worry, knowing he had a mission that took him in the opposite direction of your field lab, or at least that's what Priya told you. The other part of you, however, couldn't help looking out your window before bed every night, wondering if he'd be there the one time you looked. Suddenly you found yourself immerced in those dirty romance novels just to keep yourself from worrying too much, and you were beginning to question your mind when you realized you had begun to picture the male alien lover to look like So'lek in your head as you read.

That one fateful day you decide to leave the large doors completely open to let the fresh air through the lab was the one day you shouldn't have even gotten out of bed. You heard the deep growl first, then your hairs on the back of your neck stood on edge. You were inside the complex and quickly look around for your rifle, but the moment you made too quick of movement was when the thanator leaped into action. It roared loudly, deafening your small ears, as it leapt up onto the walkway leading into the lab before prowling right inside as if it owned the place, it's eyes never leaving you for a second, practically freezing you where you stand. You internally curse whoever designed those doors to be big enough for a thanator and you hope they're rotting in Hell. As the beast corners you into the smallest space of the lab, a part of you hopes you'll meet that inventor in Hell so you can kill them again yourself.

The thanator's nose scrunches as its snarling muzzle curled up, its limbs lowering closer to the ground, ready to strike. When it bows its back to pounce, you faintly catch sight of a collar or some form of restraint around the creature's neck, clearly of RDA make judging by the worn and chipped yellow paint coated over the metal. You wonder if it would be the last thing you ever see, a creation made from the ones you swore to fight against.

An entire barrage of gunfire shrieks through the air, bullets raining into the thanator's side at the same time it cries out in pain. So'lek inched forward until he leaps up into the lab, stepping into the open doorway and continuing his assault until he empties the entire clip into the beast's hind. As he's going to reload, the thanator decides to retreat, mewling and whining in pain as it tries to limp out of the opposite door it came through. So'lek had other ideas, however, loading his rifle once more and emptying out another whole clip into the beast, even after its body fell dead outside.

So'lek finally stopped, the silence ringing in your ears after being forced to be in the same small space as an assault rifle. He hops back out of the lab and trudges over to the dead body outside, knife in hand just to be safe. You take your time, gasping for breath as your mask hissed and testing your shaking legs out as you slowly but surely step right outside the door to see for yourself.

"I... I thought thanators were territorial?" You find your voice, swallowing down saliva when your chords cracked from fear, "Last I checked, this place wasn't in any known territory."

"These are the Severed kind our Sarentu informers have been running into," So'lek explained almost robotically while nudging the dead creature with his foot, "Animals whose kuru have been cut. Experiments, courtesy of the Sky People."

"There... Usually, there are two of them, right?"

"Nor mentioned he managed to kill one, but not its partner. This must have been the one that got away." He paused as if remembering something, before his eyes finally peer up to meet yours, "Are you alright?"

Your exhale isn't very strong, and your voice quivered, but you nod, "I... I think so. Just... shakened..."

His eyes squint, but he didn't look as though he was judging or analyzing you. He looked... for lack of a better word, concerned, "Perhaps I should take you back to base camp."

You shake your head while trying to muster a weak, joking smile, "I think I need to sleep for two days straight before I do that. That took a lot out of me."

He doesn't comment and instead offers to help clean up the mess of bullets and anything the thanator might have knocked out of place while causing a rampage through the base. You don't refuse or even agree, you just nod and move back inside to get started.

The two of you clean up in silence, all the while So'lek keeps a close eye on you, and you pretend not to notice. It's hard not to, however, since his gaze can drive your skin to rise and heat up unlike anyone you've ever met before.

He noticed how your hands were still shaking as you pick up a couple of fallen books, "'Eylan..."

"I'm alright," you wave off, too strung up to even acknowledge the achievement of gaining a new friendship status with the hard-won Na'vi man, "Just... too tense. How did you know I needed help?"

"I was already on my way here. I picked up the animal's scent and started to run and hope I wasn't too late."

You didn't dare assume that tone in his voice was trembling. You knew that assuming anything out of someone who kept his cards close to his chest would be wrong. Your eyes briefly look up at the Na'vi man, a faint smile on your lips, "You weren't. You were right on time. Thank you..."

Unbeknowst to you, So'lek's chest squeezed almost painfully at the sight of your grateful smile. Even through all that adrenaline and fear, you were still standing and unharmed, which relieved him so much to the point that it frightened him. He didn't think he would feel such fear when he had first caught the scent of the feral palulukan mixed in with the one he had come to associate with you. And yet, his legs moved before his mind was made up, running faster than he ever thought possible out of desperation.

To hear your reassurance that he had managed to save you on time strikingly comforted him, and yet, he didn't feel as though you were completely safe despite the danger being gone. He moved his eyes to watch the world outside your window to avoid your gaze as he spoke,

"I do not feel comfortable moving on and leaving you here alone tonight. If it will help, I will keep watch as you rest."

With his eyes off yours, he failed to notice your face heat up or the bug-eyed expression you sent his way. Of course, you knew you wouldn't sleep very well tonight and would like nothing more than to have some company after nearly dying. However, you also tried to play it cool and nonchalant. After all, this man did warn you to always keep your guard up, and you would hate to disappoint him, despite the odd friendship you now shared.

You simply shrug as a way to try and hide your embarrassment, "I know it'd be useless to try and convince you otherwise, so do what you want."

You activate the doors to slide completely shut, locking the two of you inside as you listen for the familiar hiss of oxygen being filtered in and out. Only when the terminal deems it safe do you remove your mask and walk over the mask station. You hang up yours and retrieve a smaller one for So'lek, handing the device to him. So'lek expertly breathes into the mask once and then lets the device dangle around his neck before he moves to the window. You watch him retreat before moving over to snuggle into the bean bag resting in the corner, trying to ignore the tall Na'vi now standing by your window as you close your eyes.

While he kept watch, he also occasionally watched you as well. You looked even smaller than usual, lying curled up in the bean bag as if trying to disappear from the world. After everything you've been through today, it's understandable you'd still be antsy, but So'lek had to commend you for how brave and put-together you appeared to be in the face of danger. He doesn't know many sky demons who are capable of that, which is why he had found himself conversing with you more than he should have over the course of these months.

Since the day you first arrived at Wooden Glen, an ugly part in his head immediately told him to stay back, keep away from you, and try not to get used to your scent. Despite hating most humans -with the Resistance balancing on that tight rope-, he surprised even himself when he didn't feel those emotions toward you. You, who immediately gave him space and didn't question him. You, who respected his boundaries and opted to live peacefully in the same space when you learned he would occasionally rest at the lab. You weren't defensive or suspicious, and you didn't expect anything from him. Sure, most of the Resistance fighters were like that -hence why they no longer worked for the RDA- but none of them were you.

So'lek may be hard to talk to and therefore found it hard to form bonds, but he's not blind. He knows beauty when he sees it, and despite hating almost everything the Sky People create, he didn't hate whatever method of creation made you. You were not Na'vi by any means, yet he couldn't help the way his eyes scan your body, so much smaller in comparison to his, and wonder what it would be like to press you into him. And your scent-- oh, your scent. Somehow, it lingered in his nostrils even from miles away in a vastly different part of Pandora. There wasn't much to your scent. It wasn't perfume or deodorant. Nothing distinct, and yet he knows it's you the moment he catches a whiff of it. It's not a bad scent. It's just you. He internally knows that there's nothing bad about it, least of all you.

So you could imagine the horror he felt when he had drawn close to the lab that day, only to smell a thanator in your general direction.

Unaware of his staring, you felt unnerved and restless now that you were finally trying to sleep. You weren't sure if you had laid there for hours or mere minutes, but you began to toss and turn, your heart beating loudly in your chest and unable to slow down.

So'lek noticed your transgressions immediately and voiced his thoughts, "You should get some sleep, my friend."

"I can't," you murmur quietly, "I'm too jumpy and too tense... Too cold."

He wasn't sure what came over him, but the sight of you restless and your claims of being cold pulled him from the window. He strides across the room and crouches in front of your form, ignoring the shock and hidden worry behind your eyes. You had grown still, a little cautious as to what would happen or what he would do if you moved. You get your answer as his large hand slowly rises up and rests over your forehead. You didn't dare move, feeling the heat of his palm against your face, and-- by god, his hand was so large, it could easily fit your whole skull without a problem.

He stomps down whatever he is feeling in his gut when his hand presses against your skin, a little shocked at how smooth you feel beneath his touch. He hadn't experienced many humans before, especially not up close and personal. The softness of your skin was... new and an interesting sensation. So'lek couldn't help but wonder what the rest of you might feel like beneath his touch.

He huffs with a faint smirk on his lips, "You are definitely cold."

Despite seeing anything other than a scowl on his face for the first time, you couldn't help the slight sting of your sarcasm emerge, scoffing and lightly swatting his hand away, "Thanks, Captain Obvious."

His eyes squint in confusion, "I do not understand."

"Never mind," you wave it off easily enough, starting to sit up before you notice So'lek inching closer, beginning to crowd your space. Your jaw nearly slacked before you picked it back up and found your words again, "Uh... what are you doing?"

He wasn't entirely sure himself. His usual instinct to stay away was nonexistent. A different instinct took over, and he wasn't sure if it terrified or intrigued him, but the scent you were giving off definitely wasn't helping him form a clear thought.

"Warming you up."

He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world as if your heart didn't just threaten to leap straight out of your mouth as his large body suddenly started to surround you in every sense of the word. It could've been from being so touch-starved and lonely, or it could've been your attraction toward him. Either way, your body immediately felt hot, and he wasn't even completely touching you yet. If you had half a sensible mind, you would immediately look away from the intensity of his sharp, yellow gaze, hiding the blush beginning to creep up over your face, but you didn't. You found yourself entranced by him, unable to look away.

He's pressing into your space now, completely pinning you into the bean bag, and yet you didn't feel scared or suspicious of ill intent. You felt yourself trusting his slow methods... as if he was testing to see what you would do. The long length of his strongly corded body overpowers your smaller form, encompassing you with his... well, everything. He took up your vision, your touch, and your hearing, and suddenly, you felt your mouth go dry with the need to taste as well. His eyes flick down, away from your eyes, and your mouth unconsciously opens in a silent gasp. You watch his eyes stare intently at your lips, his strong jaw visibly tightening underneath his skin. His face leans closer to yours until you feel his hot breath fan over your face, forcing your eyes to blink. He briefly looks up to watch your pretty eyelashes flutter before finally opening his mouth.

"Yes or no, sevin 'eve?"

You don't know what that means, but your body shivers in response regardless. You're scared to reach out and touch first in case this is all just a dream after falling asleep while reading those romance novels. You don't miss the way his brow ridge furrows as if in pain as he watched you wet your bottom lip and find the words to speak,

"Yes."

He's molding your lips together before the word even fully leaves your mouth, forcing you to inhale through your nose and feeling dizzy by the scent of his musk. His lips were bigger than yours, making the kiss sloppy until the two of you found a rhythm that suited you both. The air was stolen from your lungs as he seemed hellbent on constantly chasing your lips whenever you needed to pull away to breathe.

You weren't sure how long you kissed, losing track of time, immersed in the sensation before you were all too aware of the wet patch forming between your legs with the way he carefully laid his weight down on your pelvis. You find yourself moaning into his mouth, and his reaction is instantaneous.

His hands are finally on you, starting at your waist and moving up, pushing the fabric of your shirt up as he goes to expose your skin to him. Your heart leaps at the feel of his large hands, practically covering your entire waist, able to expand his fingers over the soft valley of your stomach.

His amazement is replaced by a scowl when his hands push your shirt up enough to expose your bra, "Why must your people feel the need to cover yourselves in so many layers? This is criminal."

You're not offended, finding yourself breathlessly laughing at his expense. You move your hands to grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, "If you think that's bad, you should try unhooking this thing."

He frowns but doesn't protest, taking his mask and breathing in its contents, waiting for your instruction as he stares down at your bra as if it offended him by simply existing. Dare I say it almost looked as though he was pouting if such an expression existed within So'lek. You bite your lip to refrain from laughing more and gently grasp his hands. He clearly had the strength to pull away, his hands so much larger than yours, but he lets you guide him to the expanse of your back where he's met with the strap of your bra. Small hooks kept the offending piece of fabric together, and while he tried to fiddle with it, it only made his frustration grow.

You're not surprised when he finally gives up and just rips the bra apart like it was nothing, but you still groan in slight annoyance, "I only have a few of those, you know."

"You will not be needing any of them from here on out," he states gruffly, with confidence, as he moves down to plant large, smooth kisses down the front of your neck and toward the space between your now exposed breasts, your heartbeat strong against his lips.

So'lek was determined to be rid of all of your bras in the near future. He'll burn them if he has to. This world is not a place for the Sky People's opinions on indecent exposure, nor is their culture and fashion welcome in So'lek's eyes. As if he needed another reason to hate the Sky People, their insistence on covering someone as beautiful as you up was the cherry on top.

His hands and mouth move onto your breasts, squeezing and kissing, licking over both of your nipples. You were more pliable and squishy compared to Na'vi women, but So'lek loved it because it just meant there was more of you to hold. He liked the feel of your tits, warm and heavy in his palms. Why need a bra when his hands are literally right here?

You lean back, sighing up at the ceiling and gasping when he slips one of your nipples into his mouth, unknowingly arching your back to push your chest further into his hands, much to his inner delight. His tongue is wet and rough, running circles around the bud until it forms into a peak then he moves on to the other one, keeping his hand occupied on whichever tit that wasn't currently in his mouth. Your skin rises wherever he touches, and your hips involuntarily try to move, your need for anything to press between your legs only growing when So'lek gently bites his teeth around the tit he was playing with. You nearly rock your hips up at the feel of his fangs sinking slowly into your skin, not puncturing or causing you to bleed, but causing a bruise to form when he finally pulled away, your breasts now slicked with his saliva and one marked with his teeth.

His breath was unsteady now, his eyes blown out of proportion, hiding the yellow color behind those black voids of a pupil. His eyes rake over your form, smugly enjoying how flushed you look with wet, kiss-bitten lips, tangled hair, and scrunched eyebrows, Sitting back on his hunches and taking it all in, So'lek's eyes finally land on your lower half, your thigh muscles clenching at the way his expression turns to hunger.

He hooks his fingers into the hem of your bottoms and helps peel them off your legs, again, showing his disapproval when his need to see all of you is obstructed by your panties.

His hands reach down to grab a hold of the panties, but you find enough willpower to remember to pull away as you fix him a stern look, "I am not letting you rip these."

He scoffed half-heartedly, "They are already ruined," he emphasizes this by gently beginning to rub a finger over your clothed clit, the bold movement surprising you enough to forget your words and gasp out in pleasure. The movement of his fingers sent your head spiraling, unaware you were so worked up to the point that a simple touch had you needy for more. He leans over you, keeping his finger's speed steady as his voice whispers into your ear, "Do you not feel how soaked and uncomfortable they feel?"

You groan in response, silently agreeing that the wet fabric rubbing against your most sensitive area wasn't as pleasant as say his fingers. Part of you wanted him to rip the panties off you so he could quickly return to drawing circles and figure eights over your clit, but the more logical part in your head reminded you that underwear was more crucial than a bra for everyday life. You wiggle your hips and with So'lek's help, you manage to get the panties off at least one of your legs and let it dangle around your other ankle before kicking it off all the way.

So'lek's breath stuttered as he stared down at the tight, shiny wet cunt between your legs, so small that his thumb nearly envelops half of it as he continues to play with your now bare clit. The slick makes it easier to rub and your moans slip out of your mouth without a fear of anyone else hearing. The thought of being able to let you make as many lewd noises as possible without anyone around sent a thrill up his spine.

He found himself moving until he was lying on his stomach, his head inching forward between your legs. Once you realized his intentions, your body began to writhe with anticipation, a little nervous but wanting this all the same. His hot breath fanned down the inside of your leg and gusting over your pussy, making your inner walls unconsciously clench around nothing.

When you felt the wet warmth of his tongue run up the seam of your pussy, you're startled into moaning up at the ceiling, "Fuck, So'lek--"

"Mm..." he mumbled, the vibrations sent straight into your heat and making your skin tingle. He's unashamed of how loud he was being, drinking you up like he's a man trapped in the desert, his moans and tongue causing the most erotic sensation that you have never felt before. His tongue dips into your greedy hole as a gasp is stolen from your lungs.

He hummed as if he just tasted the sweetest fruit, "Kalin."

"Oh, God..." You respond, moving your hips to press further into his mouth. He doesn't seem to mind and eagerly takes as much of you as he can, pressing his nose into your clit as he licks up what he could only describe as your sweet nectar.

He takes it a step further once he knows you're wet and ready and inserts a finger into your entrance, slowly pushing it despite there wasn't much resistance yet. He carefully watched the way you bucked and arched your back as if your body was trying to decide to pull away or push for more. Your eyes were closed, wanting to just feel every sensation, the bottom of your stomach already warm and fluttery. Once So'lek added a second of his large fingers, he felt a tiny stretch against the initial ring of muscle, but it gave way barely a second later and welcomed him into your tight warmth. He slowly pulls his fingers in and out, trying to commit the sound of you and your responsive body to memory, all the while licking up your slick and pressing his nose into your clit.

It felt as though he was in several places at once, and the growing ache was igniting a pleasant, burning fire within you. Every lick and every thrust of his fingers were barreling you closer to some unforeseen peak, threatening to push you over the edge. You rock your hips against his face, thighs beginning to tremble around his head. He moaned deep into your pussy as he felt the muscle of your inner thighs flex and pressed down tightly around him. It was glorious and exhilarating, driving So'lek to pump his fingers in and out of you, faster and faster.

"Ah~!" You jolt, hands quickly reaching down and tangling into his hair, helping you thrust your hips more closely into his face. The sounds coming from your mouth and pussy was so obscene, normally, you'd feel embarrassed, but right now you weren't even paying attention. You were more focused on grinding into So'lek's face, chasing after your own release, feeling it rise and rise as the coil begins to dangerously tighten.

"So'lek--" Your plea is abruptly cut off by a moan escaping your lips, your body trembling in response to him curling his fingers just right inside of you. It drove you into a frenzy, now grinding your hips faster as you cried out, "So'lek! Do that again-- fuck... I'm so close..."

He moans, going even faster while repeating the movements you begged him to mimic, his tongue eager to lap you up and taste everything you could give him. Your fingers tighten in his hair and the sensation nearly makes his eyes rolls back, more eager than ever to feel and see you finish.

You're unable to warn him as your climax barely had time to build up before it snapped and let go, your screams of pleasure filling up the lab as your pussy pulses and sends waves of hot ecstasy up and down your body. The whole time your orgasm clings to you, so does So'lek, his tongue and fingers still working in and out of you, riding out your high. He groans when you spill into his mouth, your thighs uncontrollably shaking all around him and your pretty little noises add to his already aching cock.

By the time you're beginning to relax and turn to jelly in his hands, he finally pulls his mouth away, gasping deeply for air only to choke and remember than he needed the breathing mask around his neck to do so. Licking his lips, he brings the mask up to his face and takes long, deep breaths, in and out, closing his eyes and moaning when his smells you on his own breath. Opening his eyes, he finds you with your eyes still closed and a small, satisfied smile on your face. It feels as though he has no choice when he leans down to kiss you, wishing to feel that sweet, irresistible smile with his own lips. You hum lightly, kissing back with your hands gently soothing his scalp where you had initially pulled his hair, a soft moan escaping his lips when the soreness is slowly massaged away. You can feel his moan on your lips, the taste of his tongue intoxicating once you realize he tasted like you. You shift underneath him, needing more as your hands move to start disrobing his chest pieces and loincloth.

"Mawey..." he moaned softly, even as his hips moved to give you better access to his tewng.

Despite not understanding him completely, you could tell by his tone that he wanted you to slow down. You had to crane your neck to peer up at him, and suddenly his reluctance immediately caves, his heart clenching with the way you stare up at him with half-lidded eyes, long eyelashes, and wet lips. He manages to unclip his vest before diving back in to kiss you, savor you, his large hands on either side of your face, fingers raking into your hair.

You sigh in content, closing your eyes while you return the passionate effort, trying not to get distracted as your hands begin to untie his loincloth. You feel him before you can see him, both of you pulling out of the kiss to gasp as your hand grabs a hold of his cock. The fact that your hand couldn't fully wrap around the width told you all you needed to know, and once you caught a glimpse of him, your mouth began to water.

Your fingertips and thumb were nearly an inch apart, unable to touch. Maybe it was your imagination, but the only thing you could compare to describe the size of So'lek's cock was your own forearm, much to your distress and excitement. There was no way he was going to fit, but by Eywa, you needed to try.

Using your free hand, you gently grab the back of So'lek's neck and pull him in for another kiss, just to be sure he didn't make any other protests. For added measure, you slowly move your other hand up and down his length, causing full body shivers to erupt across his back. You catch a bead of precum at the tip and slather it over his cock, making your movements easier on his sensitive, uncut skin.

It was easier to coherce him than you originally thought it would, moving the both of you until you were flat on your back, bean bag forgotten, with So'lek hovering above you, his hips flush between your legs. His cock stood tall between your bodies as your hand continued to move up and down the impressive length. His eyes squeeze shut, a small snarl on his lips as a growl runs through him. Both of his hands are planted on either side of your head, holding him up as he tries to regain control of himself, enjoying your touch but trying to restrain the overbearing thoughts that involve plunging deep inside of you no matter how loud you scream.

"Ma'kalin... I do not want to hurt you."

"Please..." you whimper desperately, hand moving up and down his cock faster while you arch your back to try and get closer, "I need you... I promise to tell you my limits."

He paused to consider this, opening his eyes to watch yours for anything, and all he could see was your lust and desperation for him. His ears lower, wondering what he did to deserve such a need for him, and how he could've possibly deserved it. Regardless of his inner demons, his own need for you clouds most of his usual judgments and he surrenders to you, nodding once before spitting into his hand and gently moving your hand off of his cock. You both moan as his hand rubs up and down his length, and hopefully the saliva and pre cum you had spread earlier would be enough to slip inside your tight heat with ease.

You sit up, and for a moment he's alert at the idea you are changing your mind, but you smile and grab his mask, lifting it up to his mouth, "Take a breath first."

"Curse this thing," he mutters under his breath, his tail twitching behind him at the soft sound of your laugh. He does as he's told and takes a deep breath before letting the mask fall back around his neck.

He lies you back down as your lips meet once more, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your movements stalled when you felt the tip of his cock press on your clit before slowly dragging down toward your entrance, making your breath hitch in anticipation.

So'lek parts from the kiss and briefly brushes his lips over your soft cheek, "Now it is your turn to take a breath."

You nod obediantly, expanding your lungs as you deeply inhale just as he began to press his cock into your pussy. Your hands immediately fly up to hang onto So'lek's hair once more when you felt your pussy begin to stretch around his cock, his movements so agonizingly slow but you appreciated it once that ring of muscle that held his length like a vice grip in your entrance began to burn. You slowly exhale, albiet a little shaky at the uncomfortable stretch. Looking down, your internally horrified that he's barely two inches inside of you. A soft whimper escapes your throat and So'lek is swift to reassure you, dipping his head into the crook of your neck while his hand reaches between your bodies to gently rub your clit to ease the pain.

"I know..." his presses a kiss into the side of your neck, "I know. You are doing so well,��ma'kalin, taking my cock so well..."

You mewl beneath his praise, taking a better, deeper breath as he pushes another inch inside. The burn isn't as painful and as his thumb continues to rub your clit, the stretch almost feels arousing. You already want to move your hips up to meet his, but you remain still instead, hellbent on the idea of getting him to fit in as much as possible before doing anything else.

It's a few minutes of patience and determination, but eventually, you can feel the tip of So'lek's cock breach the top of your cervix, bumping into that special, spongy spot that makes you whimper with pleasure.

"By Eywa..." So'lek groans quietly into your neck, "Feel yourself, ma'kalin."

You do as your told and reach down to where you know his thumb is currently rubbing your clit, only to pause when you felt something unfamiliar on your body. A large protrusion beneath your skin, sticking out of your abdomen. You look down between your bodies and moan. So'lek was only able to fit his cock a little over halfway in, and whatever he could fit was now forming a large bulge in your belly. You reach and press down on the bulge, the instant response was So'lek gripping tightly onto your hips.

"You..." he sounds as though he's been punched, groaning when you unintentionally squeeze around him until he finds his words, "You are so tight. I can feel every inch of you squeezing my cock."

"Does it hurt?" You ask with a small hint of worry.

A small quiver of a smile rises in the corner of his mouth, able to hide it in your shoulder as his kisses a small freckle on your skin, "In a good way. Always a good way. Keep tightening around me and I might finish without even moving."

A staggered breath escapes your lips, closing your eyes just to feel it all. The feel of being so full, the feel of his finger on your clit, the feel of his large body on top of you, both of your bodies moulded together, despite difference in size. Your gummy walls clench, and you feel the way his cock twitches in response, followed by a small snarl that released from deep in So'lek's chest. Your hands gently card through his hair and be sure to avoid his kuru when you guide him out of the juncture of your neck to look at him. You're not disappointed by his expression, his hairless brow pinched together in blissful agony, a small bead of sweat dripping down from his forehead and over the scar on the side of his face. You find your fingers following the pattern of the scar, tracing it and catching the bead of sweat, wiping it away.

He opens his eyes at your small gesture, staring wide eyed at you as if he had made some sort of new discovery. Your stomach fluttered in response, meeting his gaze as a roar of need waves through you. Without breaking eye contact, you move your hips and it only helps his cock slip further inside you.

He nearly buckled then and there, startled to the point he needed to remember to hold himself above you so you wouldn't be crushed. He growls deep in his throat, the bridge of his muzzle scrunched up as he grit his teeth. Unbeknowst to him, his reaction made your heart skip a beat, and if he wasn't already buried deep inside you, your legs would've no doubt clenched together to relieve the heat beginning to grow. Taking your hint, So'lek begins to moves his hips, pulling out and only going as far to leave the tip inside before sliding back in, your stuttering breaths mingling together as the ridges of his cock bumps and fits in all of the grooves of your aching walls, creating the most erotic friction you knew no toy could ever recreate. The idea of this man ruining all other sexual experiences for you was both enticing and mournful, knowing you would never be able to properly get yourself off ever again. Then again, you wouldn't mind always having to go to him in order to climax from here on out. Just as long as he felt the same.

Slick with sweat, your bodies slide together as So'lek finally starts to pick up the pace, the sound of skin slapping together filling up the lab that was your little corner of paradise. Each of his thrusts punches a moan out of you, your hands moving to get a better grip on his body, only to leave long and angry scratch marks up and down his back, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips.

The pleasant sting of your nails only encourages So'lek to rut more roughly into you, growling and snarling in your ear, an animalistic desire driving him to chase after your cervix with every thrust. The instinct to mark you all over clouded his mind, but he purposely clenched his jaw to refrain from doing so. For now, the scent he already left on you would be enough to mark his claim. It was also driving him to his climax quicker than he wanted, not when he wanted you to reach yours first. It wasn't just a want. It was a need for him.

Needing to help you reach your peak faster, he puts his hands and tongue to work. He had to hunch a little uncomfortably to reach his intended target, but it was all worth it when one hand was figioursly rubbing your clit while his tongue swirled around one of your nipples, driving the coil in your stomach to start winding up unbearably tight, already oozing out small waves of ectsasy like warm honey.

"So'-- fuck!" You gasp, your body already beginning to shake, "I'm going to come--"

"Do it," he growled out, unintentionally turning the phrase into an order as his hips stutter before returning to their previous pace, "Come on my cock, sevin 'eve. Let me... by Eywa-- hear how good I make you feel."

His cock rams right into the best spot inside of you, your screams heightened as you began to see stars, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

You grab onto the only thing you could reach, his forearms, and let yourself go. Your toes curl as the coil inside you snaps, sending wave after wave of pounding pleasure through you from head to toe, flooding all of your other senses with the rush of your high, making your head feel light. Your mouth had fallen open in a silent scream, too overwhelmed to make any other sounds.

Your pussy was clenching and unclenching around So'lek's cock as you come, and the sight of you made his own head feel dizzy. The breathy groans he lets out makes your walls clench tighter around him, and after a few more quick thrusts, he's burying his cock as deep as he could get and spilling inside your already full pussy, painting your pulsating walls in large streams of white. He has to remove his hands from your body to keep himself upright, and even then you faintly notice the way his arms shake from such intensity. You two take those few moments to remain still, basking in your shared orgasms, panting heavily and not wanting to move if it meant the high would fade faster.

You had thought he had emptied everything inside you, but when he slowly and agonizingly pulled out, he was still spilling out a few short streams of cum and they end up landing onto your stomach, his cock twitching as he watched his essence stream down your skin and leak out of your pussy. His heart was still racing and his muscles were tense, unable to relax as his cock continued to twitch as he tried to catch his breath.

You take pity on him and move your arms around his frame, manovering him until he's lying on his side next to you. His muscles finally relax once he's not holding himself up, groaning quietly once he manages to press his mask to his mouth and take another breath.

He's reaching for you tiredly even before he's letting the mask drop around his neck, "I will clean you up..."

"Not now," you reply, boldly curling up into his chest to keep warm once the air in the lab had cooled down. You close your eyes and smile to yourself, "Just take your time. I'm in no rush."

He's hesitant at first, but he eventually wraps his arms around you, trying not to think too hard about this little tawtute currently safe in his embrace, your breathing starting to slow as you're finally relaxed enough to go to sleep, using his chest to rest your head. With the cloud of lust lifting, his mind is at war while his heart is at peace. He knows he shouldn't be selfish after what just happened, but he secretly wishes to have this moment all the time. Every night with you would be marvelous... but he's not sure if that's what you want, despite having just fucked you silly.

He lets himself be selfish for a little while longer, just for tonight, his fingertips lightly following the path down your spine, creating goosebumps on your skin, and lulling you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

Reference photos for the field lab HERE!

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1800titz · 6 months ago

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HI BESTIES. Trivia!Harry x Shy!Reader part 1 ((based on THIS post))

The one where Harry hosts trivia at a small town bar every Thursday and you just can’t seem to shut up.

WC: 3.7K

This is part one of a patreon exclusive series — the rest will only be accessible through my patreon. You can already find part 2 up on my patreon (✿◠‿◠)

You take a long drink. It tastes like kismet and carbonated nothingness.

(Retrospect will tell you that it's meant to be— tiny town, diminutive ambitions, hulking potential. But now, the twinge of an uncomfortable fever crawls up from your collar and makes you want to squirm in your seat.)

“Alright, alright, alright.”

And the smooth baritone against the head of a microphone makes your insides squeeze. Close. Real close— his mouth is pink, hovering millimeters, and that brass is the kind that seeps over your nape, under your skin. Molasses-heavy, slinking the gaps in the meshed grill caging. You blink up at the portable four-by-eight platform.

It's the kind of squeeze along your guts, the heat simmering in your face the longer you stare, that'll taunt you in the ridges of the night. Boxed into this— tonight, under a parapet— comfort zone hovering beyond your periphery, in the nook of the living room you left behind to wrack your head and stare at sin-in-bulk on a mobile stage.

The lively chatter dulls as heads turn, and then swells in eager increments.

“Alright,” he says, a set of green eyes flickering from the monitor he’s settled over a rejigged high top, bounding sharply to whoever’s just given an overly enthusiastic cry of yes from the horde.

A peal of sparse, scattered laughter blooms in the throng. His mouth quirks.

“Very enthusiastic. How are you?”

His cresting gaze climbs from the glowy screen, casting light and carving shadow over the sultry features of his visage; an evenly straight slope of a nose, cheekbones feathered by long lashes, a bit of curl that traipses over his forehead.

His chin swivels to his left, somewhere closer to the platform where a woman leans over the table— her designated team. The corners of his lips curl in response to whatever she’s said. He smiles. Nods. He tips his chin. Makes a creased face like something playful. Says something else, laughs softly, and turns back, shaking his head.

You tuck the straw into your mouth and take another, long slow sip.

In the heft of his hand, the stem of the mic nearly resembles a toy. A maquette between the thick of his fingers.

“Hope everyone’s having a lovely Thursday. M’Harry, I’ll be leading the trivia— as I do— so if you’re sitting there going, who is this obnoxious cock, talking into the mic the whole night? Hi, Hello. That’s me— I do trivia.”

You get it now. The infamous cynosure is fit.

At first, you had been dubious to desert your romcom reruns and your cross-stitch project mid-way (despite the fact that your thumb now resembles a pin cushion) when your friends had swept you off into their regularly scheduled, mysteriously niche Thursday night schemes. Now, you get it.

The destination— The Black Horse— is a fuggy little space that smells like spilt Michelob and fusty, weathered oak. There’s a no smoking sign pasted in a spare crevice of the backbar, but someone in the far right corner exhales a plume of vapor like they’ve hit their elfbar in the most nonchalantly covert manner imaginable. Shamelessly. It’s a small town— an islet in the heart of an archipelago— and you think you can make out your seventh grade swim team rival perched somewhere off in the front row.

The Black Horse is nothing special. It sells cheap draughts by the pitcher and parallels a barbershop in the crux of the town, two blocks off the boardwalk, which is arguably the chiseled, shiny musgravite of Treah’s core— a roaring green sea that eats away at the borders of the isle, shrouding vibrantly hued cays, glimmering under the beam of the sun. The majority of the holm’s economy is dependent on tourism (a simultaneous bane— said tourists enjoy uprooting foliage, building infrastructures, and partaking in chunks of housing buyouts), but you can tell that The Black Horse has been …preserved to say the least. It’s four stone walls sewn into a plaza with three other natively owned businesses and looks like something straight out of a cinematic piece set in a rural village, planted into Treah long before you had her first wiggly tooth.

The Black Horse isn’t what makes attendance worth it. It’s him—

“We’ve got a crowd tonight. If you haven’t played trivia with me here at The Black Horse before, welcome. S’a little different than your typical trivia, though, because it’s…”

The crowd hollers back, as if scripted, “Dirty trivia!”

“Dirty Trivia,” Harry echoes, and when the edges of his lips crook, dimples burrow beside the corners, “Right, Dirty Trivia. This one’s rated R, so if you’re not old enough to be here, I dunno how you got here, but this is going to be your cue to head out. Any— any children in here tonight? …No? Wonderful.”

He huffs into the mic, shaking his head and jostling his halo of curls. A jaundiced, warm beam catches on them. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but m’not even joking— a couple of weeks ago someone was sitting in here with, like, a little kid.”

It’s Harry, with the divots burrowing into his cheeks, the croon into the mic, lighting the crowd alive on an introduction. Incandescent (speckled in stars, spelled out— you don't get that bit, yet.)

You cross your legs. Your friend raises her eyebrows from across the teak table top and says it with her eyes. Told you so; Trivia Man is a cream dream.

“Yeah,” Harry confirms over the dispersed, appalled eruption of laughter, nodding down at someone seated at a table closer to the stage, “I was, like, …shit,” he blinks back up and motions out, a slow sweep with his free hand, “Friendly reminder, this is not a form of sex ed.”

Pausing, (lips twitchy over the sown mirth), he brings the microphone back with a newfound seriousness and tacks on, nodding slowly, “…That kid won it for the whole team.”

He smiles. It's a lopsided spall of a ruddy seam that shows teeth, and that's when you recognize the heinous, gurgling froth of a new addiction. Incipient, blooming along your shimmery, star-struck eyes.

“No, m’joking,” he clears his throat. “M’gonna pass out a sheet and some little note pads for your answers. You’re gonna use one of those little notes to jot down a clever team name, do the same in that team name spot of the sheet, and then pass the note up to me.”

Pussy Posse. A pre-established moniker you have had no jurisdiction over, merely perched as an addition to a settled cadre. Still, you gnaw into your cheek when you watch a friend beside you scribble in the title with a ballpoint.

“I’ll be coming around between questions to pick those answers up, have a chat, whatever. We’re all here to have fun, yes?”

You swear he sweeps you with his eyes, like a passing tide gliding the sea. Probably just the way the green in his sockets meets everyone else in the throng, but the moment it happens your molars chew in harder.

“On the topic of fun, let’s keep it nice and fair, yeah? Phones put away— no cheating— you’ll have plenty of time to check those when we have our break midway.”

It feels ignoble to eye-fuck him from behind the sheathes of your empty irises as he paces the stage— after all, this is just a wholesomely clad, virtuously upstanding guy leading trivia, but. The gears behind your skull are mottled with the amalgam of a fawning affliction— cerebrospinal fluid and sticky tar. It leaves you in a goop of thoughtless ogling that renders your head empty. Even when he makes his way to the bar-height table your team curls around, when his eyes linger on you— “A new face.”— you just...

Mindlessly stare.

Dirty trivia, you learn, is dirty.

It hits you when Harry quips (dare you note, mischievously), “Hoo-hoo-hoo. Starting off strong with the first one.”

He states, talc flickering from the LED display ahead to the bevy of trivia-players, “What country,” and pauses for emphasis, “has—“ pits grub at the smooth of his cheeks, beside the grin that splinters to show ivory teeth, “the highest average, in the world, for penis size?”

There’s no source of entertainment like that of trivia held, on a Thursday, on a remote islet, in a poky bar that smells like stale beer and dust-coated, chipping leather. Evidently.

“I actually don’t know this one,” Harry chimes, raising a wry shoulder, “So it’s trivia for me, as well.”

“England,” Marina stamps a blow that the teak hasn’t warranted, whisper-shouting over the staggering peals of guffaw and chatter, “He’s hung, I bet you.”

“He’s not going to fuck you for writing in England,” Beth’s chortles clash with your scorned, “Marina.”

“That’s not even an answer,” Bee waves towards the flatscreen framed over the man’s head.

Senegal, Haiti, Ecuador, and Gambia.

“Where the fuck is Gambia—”

You settle on Gambia.

You watch Beth scribble it in and dot the i with an open sphere. The edges don’t meet. When Harry winds the rows of tables, plucking answer cards and making small-talk, you cast your inkpools into your glass, pyrexia across the bridge of your nose, brain-rotted with the insinuation of him being …hung.

“Lots of Haiti, lots of Senegal,” Harry states, once he’s smoothed the cards out with his colossal, ringed paws, and looked them over.

You stare at the bob of his throat as he swallows, directing the mic back to his lips.

“Big reveal?” He pauses, as if for cataclysmic emphasis, riling the crowd enough for you to note restive shoulders and juddering feet.

“Patience,” Harry says softly into the microphone, raising his eyebrows. It's a muted word that clicks in the speaker with a thump. Throbs between your ribs, under your cold hands.

With paltry warning, he reveals, “Ecuador! At,” squinting at the blue-toned LED, “—a whopping 6-point-nine-three. Solid for the average. Do we have any Ecuadorian men in the audience tonight? Anybody who’s added to that average? Congratulations. You beat us. You beat everyone.”

There’s a dissonant slurry of responses, some ripostes flung along tables, some bouts of clapping, hollering over the rows, sloshing mugs raised in triumph.

Harry’s deltoids climb in a shrug, and his head wags from side to side, “Some valiant contenders, those Ecuadorians.”

“I told you it wasn’t Gambia—“

You ogles the way Harry tilts over the platform towards a table, brows kinked as if trying to pick up something audible he’d missed. In your periphery, Marina prods into Beth’s direction with a palmful of something claret in a pellucid martini glass.

“What was that?” Harry coaxes into the microphone.

The corners of his mouth have caved up, and by the time the majority of the trivia-players sink into a piqued lull, he’s slanted over toward the table. A brunette with long, shiny hair arches up out of her seat into her directions, braced to the teak high-top with planted, elbow-locked arms.

“Where do you fall?” is undeniable the second time.

Harry blinks. His mouth paints over with a smile.

“Where do I fall?”

He blatantly bridles a sputter when he winds toward the laptop he’s set up, culls his glass of a golden, pale straw beer that’s lost its layer of foam, and takes a long drink. Clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Very forward. Take me out to dinner first.”

You discover that, despite the ubiquitously crude sexualizing, Harry is sort of like a bird. An Indian Peafowl, preening with its neatly arranged plume— he likes it. The flattery. His tongue peeks out and swipes along as he stares down at the screen. Little dimples pit when it tucks back in— ones he blatantly can’t contain.

He chuckles and states into the microphone, “…Below. Don’t worry about it.”

Somehow, you doubt it. -

You plait yourself into the Thursday Fawn Sessions as a regular attendee, curling up at the same high top to ogle the same man pace a platform with a microphone. Watch him make jesting comments and ask things like, “Axillism is the act of using what strange body part during sex?”

You find yourself learning a thing or two from each session, and you find that the emeralds seated in his sockets linger on you, sometimes— this absolute clam shell taking up a spot in the bar and chugging fizzy water (ogling his frame in lull every time he approaches your table), too. Pussy Posse is no good at the trivia, more often than not wheedling in second-to-last, but you find yourself much too entertained to mind.

Franks is a self-explanatory hot dog cart. It stands midway on the boardwalk and operates through sunny mizzles and borderline hurricane cloudbursts, when the green salt chuck is choppy. High tiding. Those are the days you stand out in your jaundiced poncho, salty rain spittle beating at your cheeks, and watch the waves eat at the ipe in a nasty, wet hunger, no customers in sight.

Midsummer afternoons, though, are good. Busy. When Treah morphs industrious and bustling — tourists like Franks on the boardwalk.

It’s a slow coda for June. The sea is planate, swaying over steel supports mantled by barnacles. Gulls chortle, gliding low in the ether— it oozes yellow, something balmy like the goo of an egg yolk. You've sold two hot dogs, tallied three joggers (one eager speedwalker), and noted one couple pushing a baby in a stroller, who offered tight-lipped smiles and veganism. You don't entirely mind a slow day, because setting shop on the boardwalk means spending the day on the boardwalk. Breathing the sea until your lungs are full of salt and your eardrums reverberate the crash of the water behind your skull. You taste it at the back of your throat— something like home as home could get.

There’s another jogger loping— a moving blip of skin color in chiaroscuro against wood paneling. In the distance. Drawing closer. You imagine him passing the cart, the soles of his trainers padding over the row of planks until he’s just another form of lines and shading, faced away. You check your phone.

The jogger is still a good bit away. You swipe open Wordle. You're on your third attempt of elucidating something that goes blank, I, blank, E, blank (with a P that doesn’t quite fit where you've slotted it)—

“Hi.”

Your eyes crest.

Treah is a really small town. Not in a prudishly, bible-bashing form of a pastoral village, sheathed in a bosky, wooded moat of thicket and then plains of nothingness for hundreds of miles. But it is an island enveloped by the sea from all sides, sequestered without a boat or a little plane, whose wheels bumpily kiss the asphalt of anearly comically small airport. Even the tourists lodging up in their summer homes, all the same months like annual clockwork, make reappearances. The faces are, nearly always, the same, and you see the same faces often. It was only a (limited) matter of time before you'd coalesced beyond the borders skirting The Black Horse.

In hindsight, you didn’t envisage that you'd be wearing a baseball cap emblematized with a weenie when it happened. Or that his tits would be out and about.

“Have you got water?”

He’s panting. Casually slippery; coated in sweat that glimmers in the sun and carves the well-toned sinews of his torso, with sunglasses tucked up over his curls like a makeshift headband. He ogles expectantly with a set of jade that puts the hues of the lapping, green sea behind him to shame. A parted mouth, sculpted and cushiony, sucks in breaths from the liminal space divvying their atoms while your own become clogged, somewhere midway an esophageal prison, in limbo toward your lungs. A shaded lepidoptera scored over his tummy flutters, batting its wings in the swell and sink of his diaphragm expanding.

His shorts are teeny. Tiny, little things. Cobalt. Mirroring laurels carving alongside his V-line peek from the waistband, and a happy trail climbs to kiss his navel.

You blink. “Yes. Yeah. We do. Yes. …Is bottled okay?”

“Bottled is perfect.”

He sticks a hand into his pocket, eyes flickering to your face, away, back. Slow-like. You trace the wisps in the sky with your eyes, heat searing up your neck and pooling in the flesh of your face. It’s a sudden, unforeseen stuffiness sweltering for such a beautiful day. You recognize your horrid blunder in his next words.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

You should have ducked your chin, tucked the visor lower, and hoped for the best. Instead, now, you blink, dazed and wide-eyed like a Red brocket saturated by blinding headlights.

“Oh. I’m not sure. Um. Small …town— maybe?”

“You come to, uh—“ a nudge with his chin in your direction as you arduously regulate the stuttery pace of your respiration. The jitter in your fingers, like a lovesick school girl. You cache them behind the cart and let them judder. “—trivia nights. At The Black Horse, yeah? I couldn’t forget a face like yours.”

Harry grins, the way he does. Lopsided, so the left corner turns up a little higher— dimpled with a long flash of teeth. Except now, he’s slippery and half-naked.

Folie. Miscalculated gaffe in a weenie cap. Your smile is tight.

“Oh—“ again, “…Yeah.”

“Right,” Harry nods. Smiley. Lingering, looking you over. He buries an enormous hand back into his pocket then, brows creasing like he’s remembered something, and pulls out a little rectangle in cardboard paper. “Hey, actually. I’ve got this coupon here. S’what I do all the other days of the week, ah—“

He extends it out.

Harve-y a free drink, on us!

“M’a bartender over at Harvey’s. S’close to The Black Horse, if you’re in that area. Monday and Saturday mornings. Wednesday and Friday nights. If you come by, I’ll fix you up with a drink.”

It feels impolite to leave him hanging, so you swipe out at the offering, cradling it with slow fingertips.

“We can do some one on one trivia. Train you up,” Harry tacks on.

You swallow. Harry is an attractive man. His allure is apodictic— a sort of conventional, objective quality that leaves your throat parched when it becomes paired with his unfaltering eye contact. You're not a virgin, and you're an adept swimmer, but his presence feels like viridian saltwater that’s waiting to swallow her whole. The nerves that bubble, a fizz of chagrin, remind you why exactly you enjoy fawning from a distance. Because he makes you feel nervous, and when you're nervous, the dialogue spumes like miasmic word vomit.

He’s got a thin sheathe of sweat that glimmers in the seat of his cupid’s bow, but it’s not in a gross way. In fact, it reminds you that the rest of him, his denuded skin, is slick, because he’s been jogging along the boardwalk. It reminds you how hard it is not to openly ogle the tattoos he’s got on show. You should have called out from your weenie gig, and you should have refilled her alprazolam prescription weeks ago.

“Oh,” you tell him, slowly, face creasing, “I don’t— I don’t drink.”

Harry blinks. It’s a weird confession, considering you're a Thursday night regular at a bar that’s really only good for anything that has enough alcohol to shroud the stale taste perfuming the air. Still, nothing beyond open expectancy erupts along his features, and that’s worse. You feel them crawling up your throat, clambering up the back of your tongue like the words have knobby joints. They meet the backs of your teeth, waiting to spew.

“—Not because I’m a recovering alcoholic or anything, I just don’t like the way it makes me feel. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Or drinking. I actually think it’s so admirable. You know? Like, to be brave… and… and a lot of times those people will attend support groups—“

Harry blinks again.

“—And they talk about it. I can’t imagine sharing something like that— not that there’s anything wrong with it! But. Um. I always get virgin cocktails at The Black Horse. Or club soda. Or juice.”

Her lips seal over. You entrap the rest behind your traitorous teeth — a drawbridge that never should’ve sunk open. Despite your overly candid, overstated explanation, you don't stick the coupon back out in his direction. You harbor it in your hand, blinking slowly and gnawing into your cheek.

“…S’okay. We do orange juice, too,” Harry tells her, entirely casual despite your discomfited speech, raising his brows.

There’s the curbed efforts of a bemusedly mirthy grin at the corners of his mouth, and his nonchalant bearing only makes your face hotter. You feels like you're broiling under the shade of the awning.

“And club soda.”

“…Cool,” You settle on, tightly.

“Sick.”

“…It’s, uh… two dollars,” you tell him when the reticence starts to suffocate you.

You're going to go home and ram your head through a window.

“Oh,” Harry casts his gaze to the water (it has the average, entirely typical proportions of a water bottle, but in his hand, it’s nearly miniature), as if he’s forgotten the chilly source of condensation coating his palm. That he’s in arrears. He sticks his free hand into the same pocket where the coupon was stuffed, “Right. I think I’ve got two dollars in here, somewhere.”

Instead, when he stretches a bill out towards you, it’s worth ten. You avoid eye contact. You reach for the cash box tucked below, and you pry the lid up to delegate his change.

“Oh,” Harry echoes, raising his enormous hand in effort of halting you, “S’alright. S’yours.”

“Oh. I… can’t take tips. It’s, like. Against the code of conduct.”

“Code of conduct at a …hot dog stand?”

As if you needed to be reminded that you're donning a silly cap with an animated frank, standing on a boardwalk that’s practically empty of prospective patrons. The chagrin churns in your stomach and surfaces in the set line of your mouth.

“…Yes.”

Harry pauses, brows kinked like he’s ruminating, and then he inhales and decides, “Well. It’s not a tip, yeah? It’s just… you break it up, put two in the box, and then put the rest in your pocket.”

“Oh. No. You— you’ve already given me the coupon—“ you argue, frenziedly waving out a mismatched wad of cash.

He raises his hands and ambles in one suavely, lengthy step back. “I’m going now.”

“No!”

He’s three away that would fit five or six of your own gait when he declares, “Yes! I hope to see you for that orange juice. On the house. Have a good one.”

This is a patreon exclusive series. If you'd like to read more, part 2 is already up on my patreon! <3

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