#terry dust

[oifaaa]

I’m mildly shocked Damian allowed dick or Bruce to die

I mean he didn't really get a say in the matter and I think its safe to say he was more upset at Dick dying then bruce since we are still trying to incorporate some beyond batman stuff meaning by the time bruce dies at the ripe young age of a hundred and something (that is canonically when he dies in batman beyond) he's completely alienated from most of his family even Terry's on the outs with him but Dick would be a hard blow unfortunately I don't think Dick would want to be resurrected and Damian would respect that

[beautifulterriblequeen]

They couldn't stop her.

But who is they, and who's that on the ground?

I see Claudia and Aaravos up front.

Allen right behind them.

Soren and Terry.

Maybe that's Aanya kneeling?

Over... Lujanne...?

[gbaaalex]

i..... i think i made something...

sigh.

[the-bi-fangirl-biatch]

the finale haters are so BORING like cmon man. complain all you guys want about it, but me and the angst enjoyers here are gonna be LIVING because of how much delicious potential the next season has. and this is neil fucking gaiman we're talking about! their sets are still standing, their costumes bagged and tagged, and you don't think this man would work his ass of to give us a happy ending? the man who wants to make sure this is alllllll worthy for his friend's memory?? let the (serious and/or violent) stress go and have some faith!

[cozza-frenzy]

Struggling a bit right now; hoping maybe getting those feelings out there will help. There's this persistent problem that we have where we just can't restart anything after being away from it for a certain length of time, because it's "too late" and therefore there's no point. It doesn't matter how much we know we should restart, it doesn't matter how much we want to, there's just this part of us that's like "it's too late now" and we just, can't. There doesn't seem to be any specific time limit for it to happen either - it just happens and becomes a near-immovable mental block. And we don't even know why. I don't know if this is an as-yet-undiscovered alter we have, or if it's one of our "critters" deciding to act out. "Critters" are like temporary splits that we have occasionally; emotions or intrusive thoughts that become detached from the rest of the system, with no will or motivation of their own. But this seems like something rooted deeper than that - it feels like it's anchored to some kind of big knot that's going to come loose if we pull on it too hard. The implicit message I'm getting seems to be "if you think this hurts, wait until you try digging too deep, and it'll be your fault". Whatever or whoever this is, I'm not sure it wants to be found, but we can't continue like this. I'm not really sure what to do about it, but this is affecting everything. Everything from answering the asks in the inbox to working on writing and art to taking the meds and supplements we're supposed to be taking. We're not able to do anything because this part of us is dragging us down and holding us back like a lead weight. I don't know what it needs exactly - maybe reassurance that nobody's mad at us? - but this is fucking miserable. Any advice is appreciated but we're not tagging this, we don't want a bunch of parasocial morons in the inbox again. - Terry (& Bitter, currently lurking)

[surfqueenoftheisles]

DID in the HDM world: Deamons

alter in a polyfragmented system here with questions:

okay so in his dark materials if a deamon is representative of ones soul, when there's a DID system does the system have one deamon who never settles to one form?

do the system have one deamon that is settled into one form but it's different for each adult alter changing only as they switch?

if the latter is true can the deamon shapeshift freely only when a little is in front?

when they're co-con is the deamon a hybrid chimera of the two or more alters who are there?

in that case if an adult is co-con with a little can only half of the deamon shapeshift?

if so is that the front half, the back half, the left half or the right half or just the middle or just the top half (furthest from the ground) or just the bottom half (touching the ground) or some other way???

what if the alters are blending???

or is it that each alter has their own deamon who's out as they are? (most plausible in my opinion)

is it that everyone's deamon is out at all times regardless of who's in front so polyfragmented systems have a zoo of deamons following them everywhere some of which require different terrain (like fish) and some of those deamons can still shapeshift because they belong to the littles???

also which is funnier?????

[fangirlstorycreator]

hey hey!! im liking you're new border picture with all you're characters on it. I like all of them. but I have a question for you @fangirlstorycreator in you're mind who out of those characters would be a dom. soft dom or sub in the bedroom? and can you explain why?? thanks in advance XxX

Hi anon! I love this ask! I can absolutely do this for you 😃💚 Ok, so I will do all the characters on my border, and I wonder if anyone would agree with me on my opinions?

CK Terry Silver:

Ok! Terry Silver, weather he's younger or older, is a definite Dom! We've all seen how he is around people, that desperate need for control and satisfaction. You can tell he would treat his woman like a queen, but like a slut in the bedroom. He would take pleasure in your pleasure, making you beg for the slightest touch, it's got Terry written all over it. But I definitely see Terry being a pleasure Dom. Although, I can see Terry swapping that position every now and again, with him being controlled by his girl in the bedroom. This is Terry after all, as long as he's with the woman he loves, he's up for anything.

Thranduil:

Now Thranduil is an interesting one for me. He is one of my favourites, but I'm not sure I see him as a Dom. He was crushed by the loss of his wife, so if he were to fall in love again, he would crave loving, physical touch from her. I think he would be one of those who prefers tender loving intimacy, rather than raw, passionate sex. So in my mind, I don't see him as a Dom, but I don't see him as a Sub either. He'd like to be in any position, as long as he's showing his love and feeling his lovers embrace.

Geralt Of Rivia:

Mmmmm...Geralt....Now you know just by looking at Geralt, that he'd destroy you in the bedroom. I'm not sure I see Geralt as a Dom, or a Sub, but that's not to say he can't be a little like that from time to time. From his history with Yennefer, and whores in brothels, he sometimes either just wants a quick fuck, or to worship a woman's body. I think if Geralt were to be with a woman he truly cares about, it would be about passionate sex, not controlling pleasure. So I don't see Geralt as either.

Aemond Targaryen:

Now this one is interesting. As many have seen Aemond in the show, he can be very vulnerable around the whore in the brothal. But I don't think that would be exactly the same if he were to really fall in love with someone. I think, if he were to be with his dream girl, he would be gentle at the start of their sex lives. He didn't have a nice introduction into sex, so he wouldn't put the woman he loves through the same thing. But, let's not forget Aemond's personality. He can be dark, cunning and craves control. I think that once him and his girl would be more comfortable, they would do more in the bedroom, and I definitely see Aemond wanting to take control over his girls pleasure. He'd enjoy her beg for him, and giving her exactly what she needs. So yeh, I think Aemond can progress into a Dom, but only with the right person.

Loki Laufyson:

Ahh, our sneaky god of mischief. Now, this all depends on which Loki were thinking about. Because his personality and choices change over the years. Loki in the first Thor film is not the same Loki in his series. So, I think, in his earlier years, I see him being a Dom in the bedroom. But as he's changed, lost people he loved, lost his home, and any chance at a normal life, I think he'd be far more different to the woman he loves. If he was being intimate, he wouldn't care about who's on top, or who's incharge. He'd just enjoy every moment he has being with the one person who loves him more than anything. Maybe? Maybe if it's older Loki, he wouldn't mind you being in top, taking charge, but he wouldn't be afraid to flip the switch and show a darker side to him, if you asked him too. So, in my mind, not quite Dom, but not quite Sub either.

Eric Northman:

Eric Northman. Anyone whose seen true blood knows that Eric can definitely be a pleasure Dom. There's one scene that comes to mind....(you seem suprised...is bill's stamina not up to snuff?) Ehem, anyway! He can definitely be a pleasure Dom! But, again, as anyone would know from his memory loss with Sookie, he can be incredibly gentle and kind. Even when he got his memories back, he was choosing to be kind to her. But, if he were to fall in love with another woman, he'd enjoy showing that dominance in the bedroom, if she liked it of course. But again, he is capable of being romantic and passionate in the bedroom, but I'm not quite sure he'd be a Sub. Maybe in his memory loss days, he'd be a little submissive, but with his memories, probably not.

Spike:

Spike. William the Bloody. Spike is one of my all time favourite characters, and his development through the buffy series is amazing. From wanting to kill buffy at the start, to dying for her and the world at the end, it's beautiful. Now, when it comes to being a Dom, hm? I'm not to sure. When Buffy started sleeping with him in season 6, they both kind of played at being in charge. With Spike being a powerful vampire, and Buffy being the slayer, it was difficult to think of who out of the two, would be the real Dom. Spike would enjoy it both ways, and has 😏 but I don't think he's a definite Dom or Sub. As long as he's with the woman he loves, he's happy.

Draco Malfoy:

Draco. Now this is a tough one. He's in an unhappy home environment, weighed down by the thought of not being enough for his dad, and not being the best student he can be to his potions teacher, Snape. But despite that, I think if Draco truly cared for someone, he probably wouldn't know how to show it at first. He'd be rude, defensive, dismiss anything she would do or say to make him smile. But after a while, he'd grow to understand that someone does genuinely care about him. In regards with the bedroom, I honestly am completely stumped on that. I have no clue?

Severus Snape:

Oooohhhh...Snape....absolute Dom! Definitely! He's definitely one who would love to take control in the bedroom. He's a teacher, a strong clever one, who scares the students and has respect from the teachers. If he were to have a woman by his side, he would take great pleasure in hers. I can see him being a pleasure Dom, making his woman beg on her knees, loving that the woman he loves wants him, needs him this much. So yes, Snape is a Dom in my eyes. If you were to walk around the school as a Professor, and see him coming in the opposite direction, you'd love to wind him up. Shoot him a look, cast a spell on his robe to fly away, do anything that can annoy him, just to get that look in his eyes. The look that says your going to be punished for that. And he, would enjoy all the naughty things to think of doing to you once you were alone. And I can tell he's one who likes danger. If students were in one hall, and you and him were in the room corrected to it, he wouldn't hesitate to drag you in there and make you get on your knees, all while anyone could walk past.

Daryl Dixon:

Ah Daryl. I love Daryl. Despite him always being a little grumpy, protecting his group or taking care of his weapons, he'd be a total sweetie to his girl. Daryl isn't one for that kind of physical touch, not unless he feels comfortable enough. But if he was, and it was with the woman he loves, I seem him being kind of a Sub. Daryl tries so hard to be strong and capable every day of his life with the zombie outbreak. So it's wonderful for him to relax and let someone else take care of him for once. To be honest, I don't see him and his woman doing the whole Sub Dom thing. Sex for him would probably more of a comfort thing, spending quality time together and showing his love and appreciation. So in my eyes, Daryl's neither a full Sub or a Dom.

Thorin Oakenshield:

Thorin!!! I loooove Thorin! King under the mountain! Or King under me-ehem! Moving on! 😂 We unfortunately don't see Thorin with a lady in the Hobbit films, which is a shame. But I believe Thorin would literally treat his lady like a queen. He'd adore his lady, kiss her every day, tell her he loves her, shower her with gifts and romantic gestures, that's definitely him. But in regards to the bedroom, I can see Thorin going both ways. He is definitely capable of being a pleasure Dom, pinning his lady down and bringing her to tears. But, I can just tell that he'd really enjoy his lady taking control too. He's a King, the King under the mountain, but he doesn't always wanna be that. He'd love his lady making his beg for it, making him her little play thing, I can just tell he'd like that kind of thing. So yes, Dom but also Sub.

Bucky Barnes:

Poor Bucky has been through so much. He's loved and lost people he cares about, and it would be hard for him to open up and love another person, but not impossible. After some time, he'd love his partner more than anything in the world. But with the bedroom, that would probably take him longer to open up too. He's hurt so many people through no fault of his own, and the last thing he'd do is hurt his girl. So they'd take it day by day, not full intercourse at first, just little steps to that stage. And once he felt safe to be that way with you, your first time would be slow and gentle. At first, he'd probably wanna be on the bottom, letting you feel comfortable with him, but maybe after a few months, and sleeping together more often, he'd wanna be a little more assertive. Taking you against the wall, pinning you to the bed, definitely get more dominant with you. But, I don't see him being a full Dom, or a full Sub. With Bucky and his girl, anyone can be on top.

Alucard:

Now with Alucard, I see him talking control, but to make sure he can control himself more than anything. If his partner were a human that is. He craves blood, to bite into humans necks, but he'd never do that to you unless you asked him too. He has incredible self restraint, but when it comes to sex, that's a little harder. Even though he'd be in control, it would be about how you feel, what you want him to do, and weather he can alow himself to touch you or kiss you in that way. I think after a while, he'd be more comfortable in the bedroom, knowing what you like and what he can do without any danger. But maybe, he'd enjoy being a Sub? Letting you pleasure him, so his mind wouldn't be filled with such worry. So for Alucard, not Dom, but Sub sometimes.

Iron Bull:

Oh hell yeh! Iron Bull is a definite Dom! I mean, who can play Dragon Age Inquisition without romancing him?! For those who have played his romantic story, will know that he is 100% a Dom. And he is a respectful guy too. He lays out the rules, the safe work, and I can feel he's really good at after care too. The dudes huge! But also a huge softy. I'm not sure if he'd wanna take a turn at being the Sub? But I do know that he isn't always a Dom in bed. Once he's found his "Kadan" he will show his more gentle and sensitive side. But rest assured, if you still wanted a little rough with him, he'd be more than happy to oblige.

Fenris:

Fenris? He's a tricky one. If anyone has played his romantic story line, will know that he is afraid of being that right man for you. But he does love, and he does care, he just struggles to show it. I think if he's been with his partner for a long time, those thoughts wont be there as much, and he can really enjoy being in a couple. In the bedroom, I can see him go both ways. He just wants intimacy, love, attention and affection. So when it comes to sex, that's all it is, sex. No thoughts about who's going to take control or submit to one another, just passionate love making, allowing the fears and troubles of the world to disappear.

Alastor:

😶🤤 Aaaahhhh.....our Radio Demon.....As most people know about his character, Alastor is Asexual. And in the first series of Hazbin Hotel, we haven't seen him attracted to anyone or show any expression of sexual interaction. But, that's not to say he is isnt capable of it. Asexuality can be very different for many people. Some would feel absolutely no sexual attraction to anyone, and not want to ever have sex. Were as there are some who have tried it and don't like it, or find others attractive and are only comfortable with certain physical things. It's different for everyone who is Asexual. So for Alastor, let's just imagine that he does feel attracted to certain people. If that lucky sinner was his partner, I feel he would be extremely protective, especially if they were a sinner and not an overlord. He would be comfortable walking down the street with you hand in hand, hugging you, kissing you on the cheek, and only when he feels very loving, a kiss on the lips. I honestly don't see Alastor being sexual with his partner, but that doesn't mean I don't see him being dominant. Alastor is a very powerful man, who strikes fear into many sinners hearts, but that's not what he does to you. I can see him wanting you to crave, no, beg for him to kiss you, and he would get off on the control he has for his dear partner. So yes, he has Dom energy, but not a sexual Dom.

Asmodeus:

Aww the King of Lust, he's such lovely character. His relationship with Fizz is so sweet. And from seeing how he behaves around Fizz, who he adores, you can tell he's one of those guys everyone wants in a relationship. It's obvious that Ozzie is a pleasure Dom, considering his job and how he is with Fizz. But I do think he may be partial to being a Sub from time to time. He owns naughty toys, and it would be a great experience for both him and Fizz to try, and being the Sub and having someone to use those toys on, would be pleasurable for both of them. So yes, he's a Dom, but not always.

Fizzorolli:

Of course he's a Sub! He's in a relationship with Ozzie! THE King of Lust! I bet he loooves having Ozzie "test" the new toys with him, and taking every chance he can get to be physical with Ozzie. But, also like Asmodeus, I think he'd like to swap positions. I think Fizz would take full advantage of those very long limbs of his for a little...bondage...So yes, definite Sub, but just like Asmodeus, not all the time.

Stolas:

I mean....really? It's confirmed verbally many times, and it's obvious from anyone who watches Helluva Boss, Stolas is a Sub. He would practically faint when he could hear Blitz arriving at his home, excited for a night of passionate fornication! I am a lover of Helluva Boss, and Hazbin Hotel, they are my favourite shows! And it will be interesting to see Blitz and Stolas's relationship change. And you never know, they might want to change it up in the bedroom in future seasons, but from what we've seen so far, Stolas is a Sub.

Lucifer:

Mmmm.....The King of Hell! In my personal opinion, after watching him in Hazbin Hotel, I honestly see Lucifer being a bit of both, but mostly Sub. Come on! Look at how tall and beautiful Lilith is! I bet he would practically melt at her simply stroking his cheek, let alone being sexual. I think he would take charge if Lilith asked, but when it comes to sex, it just feels like he would lie there, enjoy the view and experience. So I think he's a Sub, but would take control if he was asked.

Blitz:

😈 This is Blitz we're talking about. The blitz! He's the daddy of the Doms! The way he was with Stolas, screams dominance. So this one was very easy, dom dom Dom! He may feel a little startled at first if Stolas were to try and take control, but you never know, he may like it. We'll have to see how their relationship changes in season 3.

Angeldust:

🥺 Angel! My sweet little Angel! He is by far my favourite character in Hazbin Hotel! I love every moment he's on screen. And again, if anyone has seen the show, and his character, knows he is 100 and 10% a Sub. I hate that he has to deal with Valentino, but before his got involved, he really did love his sex life. He still likes his sex life now, but not when Val's involved, or Val's chosen some guys to rough him up while recording. I think if HuskerDust is a real thing in the next season, it would be nice for him to finaly enjoy his sex life with the right person.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

Moments that changed my brain chemistry forever

[denimjacketgf]

need to get a new hyperfixation where the creator is like a hermit or dead or something so i can live in peace. the era of my favorite medias writers being on twitter is my nightmare

[dustedmagazine]

Terry Gross — Huge Improvement (Thrill Jockey)

Terry Gross, the band, is not exactly sold on the concept of better life through technology. A dystopian thread runs through this second full-length, from the waste-strewn landscapes of “Sales Pitch” to the post-singularity despotism of “Effective Control.” Heck, even “Full Disclosure,” long and noise-crusted instrumental manages to radiate end-of-the-world exhaustion without a single word. There’s a robot dying of rabies in its agonized howl and pulse. Things are very bad in the kraut-droning, metal-clanging world of Terry Gross, but at the same time, unusually sharp and clear.

That’s because this is a project from Phil Manley, who with Trans Am and, especially, the Fucking Champs, made the greasiest kind of metal riffs shine like factory-new chrome. It’s because Manley enlisted his fellow recording studio owners and sound buffs—Phil Becker and Donny Newenhouse—to lay down mayhem and capture it in crystalline clarity. And so, we have another album that is both unhinged and a little bit anal about the details. It’s a strange hybrid of id and superego.

In some ways that’s a reprise of what made Soft Opening so intriguing in 2021. (Said I, “The music runs hard and loud and super clean, channeling the roar of metal through math-y complexities and ecstatic repetition until it is something else entirely.”) And yet, Huge Improvement, while slightly overselling things in the title, is indeed a measurable advance. These songs are massive and crushingly heavy but structured so cleverly that they dance a little despite their heft. Where on Soft Opening you might intuit the songs’ origins in extended jam, here they seem more composed and premeditated, though there’s no letup in viscerality. “Effective Control” is a straight up banger, too, despite its dire messaging. Who said that the robo-apocalypse couldn’t be fun?

Jennifer Kelly

[moviemosaics]

Dust Devil

directed by Richard Stanley, 1992

[cozza-frenzy]

No, no it should not. Try using a cane, and adjust the height so the handle is where your wrist bends. Having something to lean on has meant we can enjoy museums and art galleries a lot more, because we can actually stop and read the signs without pain distracting us! Even the parts of us that don't want to inconvenience others are happier, because we don't have to sit down so often! And to the people reblogging our post and saying they experience this but aren't going to do anything about it? You're not doing yourself any favors by suffering. Mobility aids are for anyone who needs them.

sometimes I forget standing up isn’t painful and difficult for most people so I’ll be watching something like game changer and see the people standing behind their podiums the whole episode and think ‘wow don’t they need to sit down. how can they still think coherent thoughts’ and then I’m like oh. yeah. I have a disease

[cozza-frenzy]

how does unfusing consciously work? I thought that was soemthing that only happens in cases of splitting, and how does doing science in the inner world make you unfuse?

Terry: Okay so, full disclaimer I guess - this sort of thing is pretty much uncharted territory in terms of solid facts. Don't expect me to cite sources, because they literally don't exist. Dissociative Identity Disorder - as a lived experience from the perspective of a system - is not well-researched or well-documented. The only thing remotely similar to what we managed to do that I've seen mentioned in actual literature, is the use of "rituals" to achieve fusion or "revive" an alter the system is convinced has died. But that said... the reason I mention rituals, is because in "meta terms", we basically needed a way to trick our brain into having a reason to separate Roy and Bitter. But for details, I'm actually going to hand this one over to Roy and Bitter - given this directly involves them and was the result of their own will, they're the ones best qualified to talk about this.

Roy: Okay so, both me and Bitter still existed as individuals - he'd been dormant, but when he woke up he was sharing a body with me in the inner world. In more "meta" terms, our brain was making both of us occupy the same space; wherever my part went, it was dragging his part around with me. And whenever one of us became fully conscious (fronted) the other would be there along for the ride (in a semi-conscious state), and this was causing problems for the system. Bitter: Nobody was happy about this. I was dysphoric, being aware of being in my in-sys body inside another in-sys body was giving me a headache while at front, and given we both shared the same "pool" of energy, neither of us could do our jobs properly. Roy: So together, we made the conscious decision to re-separate - but we needed a way to convince our subconscious that something had caused this to happen. And with some help from Hyi, I took things back to my in-system laboratory, and spent a few days without sleep (never going fully unconscious) planning and building. In meta terms, as Terry put it, I suppose you could call it writing a damn good story to tell our uncooperative brain, so it would actually let us follow through on what we decided to do. One artificial body, some bottled lightning I'd been saving for a special occasion, and a modified version of my Mind Transfer Machine later, and we separated successfully. The effort knocked the body out for a period of more than 12 hours, but since then we've been able to behave independently without our consciousnesses being "conjoined". Bitter: As evident from the fact we're both co-conscious right now, but keep tripping over each other to front. It's honestly a huge relief that we could make this work; we've done "rituals" before to achieve fusion (which varied from a Steven Universe-like "fusion dance" to writing up and signing an adoption contract) but we've never heard of anyone consciously separating a failed one. Don't know if that makes us the first, but if anyone else is struggling with an unstable subsystem, I hope it gives them a possible way out.

Roy: Trying to live this way can be hard sometimes, but my source was a world where nobody got to decide anything for themselves - our lives were literally scripted, our episodes already written, our actions pre-determined. Once I showed up here and realized not only could I choose to do things but my choices mattered, I've made it my life's goal to stick two middle fingers up at anyone who says you can't. This is my home. This is my chosen family. And I'll tear our inner reality apart at the seams if if means they get to stay safe and happy.

[jazziejax]

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐤 ‘𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Cowboy!Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - They had always had this lingering tension between them. But not it seems that whatever feelings were there have now boiled over and at the Sweet Tooth Saloon, things get a little hot.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!, MINORS DNI, Heavy tension, sensual dancing, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), soft!Terry, mild dominance, tender aftercare, implied feelings

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - since yall only like me when I write about Aaron Pierre 🙄 I’m not good at wiring smut and I don’t even like doing it but this is something to hold yall over in case I drop off the fave if the earth soon. I have Finals next week :( UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes. There probably many because my laptop over heated…also, I can’t write a short fic to save my life.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭- 9,567+

The small bell above the door jingled as the large man stepped into the beauty salon, ducking slightly to avoid the low-hanging dried herbs strung up near the entrance. The scent of lavender and bergamot mixed with the faintest trace of hot iron and other chemicals, the kind used to curl or straighten a lady’s hair.

He had never set foot in a place like this before. Not because he didn’t believe in looking presentable—he just never trusted another person with a razor near his throat. And, to be honest, he didn't mind looking rough sometimes, but he was starting to become a little self-conscious whenever a woman looked at him for too long. Especially her. But the dust of the road clung to him, so his beard and his hair had grown past the point of comfort as he and his comrades spent more time than they thought in Sugar Cane Creek. Everything needed a trim. At least, the mirror at the bar last night told him as much, and Jim had made a comment about him “starting to look like a wild man”.

Terry didn’t care much what people thought, but he cared about feeling like himself.

A woman stood behind the counter, fingers-deep in a bowl of soapy water, scrubbing a comb. The early morning light that poured through the shop window was caught in her dark hair, making it shine like polished mahogany. She looked up, recognizing him instantly—because who in Sugar Cane Creek didn’t know who he rode with? But she didn’t stiffen or frown like some folk did when they saw a man from the Nat Love Gang.

Instead, she wiped her hands on a cloth, tilted her head, and smiled just enough to let him know she wasn’t afraid.

“Well, well." She mused, setting her rag aside. “Never thought I’d see the day you walked in here.” She said, a soft grin on her face. Her voice was as rich and smooth as honey fresh from the comb.

Terry removed his hat with a sigh, brushing a hand over his curls that had gotten a little thick on top of his head. “I think I'm in need of a trim.”

She raised a brow. “Hair or beard?”

“Both.”

Her gaze flickered over him, lingering on the rough edges of his beard. “I’ll say. Starting to look real close to a mountain man.” She quipped. Terry, however, didn’t smile, but something in his dark eyes did shift, a flicker of amusement that only she would catch. They had always danced around one another. Something they had been doing for a while now—exchanging looks in town while Terry earned his keep over at Cotton's and she began to start her work day at The Blush and Brush Parlor, brushing shoulders when they shared time at The Sweet Tooth Saloon. He was a quiet man, but she liked that about him. A man who didn’t talk just to fill space.

Her eyes flickered over his face, then lower to where his suede, dark brown, coat stretched broad across his shoulders. “Take your coat off." She said, already gathering her scissors. “You might be here a while.”

Terry hesitated, looking down at the shorter woman with a tired look. "Don't talk about me like I'm some sort of ruffian, now." He said, his voice deep and his country drawl thick. The brown skinned woman gave him a faux pout with a small laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, bright eyes, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Now take a seat and let’s get you looking decent again, okay?" She grinned, playing coy with him. Terry didn't flinch at the name, but a small twitch was his lip was noticeable to her before he then shrugged out of his coat and laid it over the empty chair not far from him. He then sat down in the chair she stood in front of, allowing the woman to drape a sheet over his front, tying it at the back of his neck with nimble fingers before combing through his hair. She was gentle, but precise—no wasted movements, no hesitation.

"You know how to do men's hair?" He asked.

"Yup." She said. “Been cutting my daddy’s since I was eight. Used to say I was better than any barber in town.” He could hear the smile in her tone at the thought, though it veered off into something a little sad.

Terry hummed, the closest he’d come to laughter anyways, but he could also tell that the subject was a little sensitive to her. He let her work, let the soft snip of the scissors fill the quiet. Every so often, he felt the barest brush of her fingertips against his skin. He could also feel her large chest brush against the back of his neck every now and then, causing him to look up into the mirror in front of him, watching the woman work. He wasn’t a man who flinched easy, but something about that gentle touch made him tense in a way he couldn’t explain.

The shop was quiet except for the snip of her scissors. She worked with practiced ease, combing through his hair, trimming away the weight. Every so often, her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, light and deliberate. She felt the way he tensed, barely noticeable, but there.

“Relax, cowboy." She teased. “I ain’t gon' hurt you.” She said softly.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, settling into the chair.

She then suddenly grabbed the side of his head, straightening his head and looking at him though the mirror. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing, but he didn't question it as he watched her intensely though the mirror.

“Alright." She murmured after a while. “That’s the hair. Now the tricky part.”

She brush the excess hair from him before she turned to the washbasin, dipping a cloth into warm water before wringing it out. He expected her to hand it to him, but instead, she pressed it against his face herself. She held his head steady with her other hand, gripping his chin. And he couldn't help but wonder if she did the same procedures with all her clients, because even though his hair looked better than before, the way she was touching felt oddly intimate. The heat from her touch as well as the warm cloth sank into his skin, soothing the roughness of travel and the dry air. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that.

She worked carefully, rubbing a mixture of soap and oil into his beard before picking up the straight razor. She tested the blade against her thumb. She hummed before moving over to the leather strap against the wall to give it a quick sharpen. She tested it again, obviously to her liking since she walked back over and tipped his chin up with two fingers.

“You ever had a woman shave you before?” She asked, looking up from inspecting his unruly beard to lock eyes with his bright ones. It was a simple question, calling for a simple answer, but their gazes were intense. Terry shook his head, just barely, caught in her big eyes and soft touch as he licked his lips.

His response, or lack there of, caused her to grin. “Good. Means you’ll keep still.” She said, only leaning in briefly as she joked with him, but her sudden contact made allowed him to catch a whiff of sweet scent like, something like Ambrosia.

“Lean back,” She instructed, her foot hovering over the pump that allowed the chair to recline. Terry hesitated, blinking at her. It's not that he didn't trust her, he'd known her for quite some time now. He trusted her hands in his hair, but a blade near his throat? That was different. He never trusted anyone that much, not even his closest comrades. It's the reason why all his self-cut's were a little choppy. Something that wouldn't have mattered if he was still up to his outlaw duties and on the road. But now he was spending his time in saloon's and around beauties they didn't offer at home.

She caught the shift in his posture, her smirk turning knowing. “You scared?” She questioned.

Terry met her gaze, his own steady. “No.”

“Then sit still.” She said before she pushed down on the pump under the chair, allowing it to recline. And that he did, opening his growing facial hair to her, ample room left in case of his worst fear. But he had no reason to fear her and her intentions, because her blade was steady. Her hands were sure, and he trusted her, even though he had no reason to.

The razor glided slow, careful. She kept her grip steady, the blade sharp and sure as it skimmed along his jaw. The heat of the late afternoon pressed into the shop, thick and lazy, but it wasn’t what made her skin prickle. It wasn’t what sent that slow, creeping flush up her neck, settling warm in her cheeks.

No, that was him. It was his eyes that were watching her.

They were unblinking, steady, tracking her every move like a man who had nowhere else to be. He was always like this—silent, still, and always looking—but something about it felt different now. Maybe because they were closer than usual. Maybe because she could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the slow rise and fall of his chest under the weight of her touch.

She set her jaw, trying not to let on just how much she felt him. The every move he made under her touch.

Instead, she focused.

“Bet you’re the kind of man who don’t like feeling vulnerable." She murmured, trying to make small talk with staring man.

Terry’s eyes stayed on her. “You talk too much.” He said, quirking a brow at her. She chuckled, dragging the blade along his jawline. “Maybe. But you don’t talk enough, so it evens out.”

Her hand shifted, fingers pressing just beneath his chin as she tilted his head for a better angle. He was warm beneath her touch, his pulse steady, but she felt it jump when her nails scraped lightly against his throat. She tilted his chin just slightly, her fingers light under his jaw, and dragged the blade down his throat in a slow, deliberate motion. He let her, not moving, not even swallowing, though she could see the tight pull of his muscles beneath his skin, right at the peek of his shirt.

She shouldn’t be looking there, but how could she not? This hunk of a man was lying below her, almost open and willing as he gazed up her with a soft look in his eyes. The air between them was thick, something unspoken curling at the edges. Her grip on the razor tightened just a little as she worked, and his gaze burned hotter for it.

“You always watch this hard?” She asked finally, keeping her tone light as she wiped the hair she cut on a rag after shaking it off in the water basin and then wiping it away. She glanced up some, catching sight of his lips—pink, full, and slightly parted—tipped up at the corner. “Always.” That single word, rough and low, sent something straight to her stomach.

She swallowed as she continued working, trying her best to focus, steadying herself. She wasn’t about to let him get the better of her, no matter how much heat curled between them. But she also took her time finishing the shave, enjoying the rare sight of the outlaw that is Terry Richmond—silent, still, and at her mercy.

“You’re awful quiet for a man with so much to say in his eyes." She murmured, brushing away the lingering shaving foam with the pad of her thumb. Her hand lingered a second too long, caught in the shape of his jaw. Terry still didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched her.

“Didn’t know I needed to talk." He said, and she could’ve sworn she saw his blue eyes flicker to a sea green as the light hit them. The warmth in her cheeks…and else where, deepened. She pulled back, making quick work of the last stroke of hair she had to eliminate, but her hands weren’t as steady as before.

And he knew that.

By the time she was done, the shop felt too small, too warm, too much. She grabbed the cloth and wiped his face cleaning, looking at her finished product around his mouth. Her eyes met his briefly as she took in the goatee she set him up with, a small smile beginning to grace his feature as his eyes bounced across her face. She cleared her throat softly, wiping an imaginary spot of lather from his jaw and leaned back to admire her work. “There. You clean up nice, cowboy.” She said with a grin.

She turned, quickly wiping the blade clean, setting it aside, and moving a few steps away to compose herself as she gathered the material she sat out in front of the mirror.

But then she felt him stand up from the chair, taking the cape off. She felt the shift in the air when he got close—just behind her. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back. She glanced up, watching as he inspected his face in the mirror from behind her. He rubbed his large hands across his face, taking in his fresh look. He only did that for a few seconds before his gazed dropped to the round woman below him. He her her eyes in the mirror, nothing but an exchange between their eyes. She was the only to look away first, cleaning the station.

Terry sat the hair cape he had in his hands in the chair, looking as himself one last time before he hummed in content. He place his hand on her shoulder, large over her breakers that was far from small. “Good job.” He said, voice low near her ear. He then stepped away, his hand dragging down and across the back of her waist as he moved over to shoulder on his coat. She froze at the feeling of him touching her, and then gulped at his fingers tracking off her body. She looked up, looking herself in the eye and blinking, making sure this was all real, before looking in the mirror to watch him put the coat over his large frame.

Terry ran a hand over his chin, feeling the smoothness. He met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

“How much?” He asked after putting on his hat, straightening his clothing, and she tried not to get distract by the way he grabbed his belt, using it to adjust his pants. She turns, tiring her head at him as she gave him a noticeable once over. “Hmm.” She stated with a hum, placing her hands on her hips as she stepped closer. “Well, if you were any other customer, I’d charge five cent. But for you, Terry Richmond, I’ll charge you three.” She smiled.

Terry’s lips twitched, his expression unreadable as he glanced off into the distance out side of the parlor’s windows. He adjusted his belt, the large buckle dinging softly while the leather shifted under his grip. His eyes, sharp and knowing, flicked back to her.

“Three cents, huh?” His voice was smooth, lazy, but there was an edge to it—like he was turning something over in his mind. “Mighty generous of you. Can’t help but to think I’m special.” He quipped, though his tone never really wavered from his deep baritone and his serious manner.

She lifted a brow, arms still crossed as she tilted her head at him. “Well, I’m feelin’ kind.” She smiled, playing along to the game she knew she started, all for the hell of it.

That little smirk of his deepened. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing some of the space she’d put between them. She felt it immediately—his warmth, his presence. It was impossible not to.

“You always this kind? Or only to me?” His voice had dropped, rough and low, like gravel dipped in honey.

Her pulse skipped. She held his gaze, not backing down, but he knew what he was doing. He knew the way his voice curled around her, the way his eyes made her skin prickle. Her breath caught, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she kept her expression even, playful, letting her smile linger as she tilted her chin up at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She murmured, voice smooth as satin. “Mr. Special.” She finished, a certain glint in her eye as she tilted her chin just slightly—like she wasn’t the least bit affected. Like she wasn’t keenly aware of just how close he was now.

Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, but there was something else in his eyes—something sharp, knowing. His gaze flickered down, just briefly at the Lowe part of her face, before settling back on hers. His presence was suffocating in the best way, heavy and warm, filling up the little space between them.

“I would.” He admitted, voice slow and deliberate, like he was testing the weight of the words. “Got a feelin’ the answer might keep me up at night.” He said, crossing his arms.

She let out a soft laugh, looking away from his heavy stare as she shook her head. The heat curling in her stomach was unmistakable. He was good—too good. And she didn’t now how’s long she last in this little game they always played before she pounced on him.

“Don’t go losin’ sleep over me, Richmond.” She teased, even as her pulse thrummed in her ears. She breezed past him, making sure her side brushed against his as she moving over to the small counter on the left side of the door. His eyes trailed down her figure once her back was to him, taking in her round and voluptuous curves from behind. “Wouldn’t wanna be the cause of your troubles.” She finished as she turned to look at him from behind the counter. She leaned her weight in the counter, her hand clasped together with her forearms resting on cold wood. She watched as Terry stood there for a moment, the look in his eye darker than before as he stated at her. He then blinked before moving, not taking his eyes from her with his pace slow and deliberate before he stood on the other side of the counter, looking down at the woman.

Terry tilted his head slightly, studying her like he was seeing something no one else had the sense to look for.

“Too late for that.” He said. The words were quiet, but they landed heavy between them, sending a shiver straight down her spine. Before she could find something clever to throw back at him after gulping, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver dollar, and placed it on the counter in front of her hands. His fingers brushed hers, Cushing him to glance down at the small touch.

He then looked back up, his blue eyes staring into her brown ones. “That oughta cover the next few visits.” He said, voice even, but there was that flicker of something else in his eyes again—something smug, something dangerous.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s too much.”

Terry simply shook his head, glancing away from her. “Nah.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, lips parting slightly, but he was already shrugging into his coat, the weight of his scent—tobacco and something deep, something him—lingering in the air. “And here I thought you didn’t like to talk.” She mused, watching him, arms placed on the counter as she thought over all their silent but pleasant times together in the Saloon while the rest of the gang chatted.

Terry confined to gaze at her, his eyes taking across her face. “I don’t.” He said, his smirk lazy, knowing. He paused, casting her a slow, lingering glance—one that made her stomach twist up in knots. He then turned to the door, but before pausing and casting one last glance over his shoulder. His gaze swept over her—slow, deliberate, enough to make the air feel thick with something unspoken. Then, after a beat—“But you make it worth it, Mrs.Special.” Then he tipped his hat and walked out.

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving her standing there, staring after him, her heart racing, her face burning hotter than a summer’s day in Cane Creek, her fingers gripping the counter a little tighter than before and the lingering ghost of his eyes still burning against her skin.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Sweet Tooth Saloon was alive tonight—thick with the scent of whiskey, tobacco, and the heat of too many bodies pressed close together. Laughter and conversation swirled beneath the hum of string instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor. The music was thick, rolling through the air like smoke, wrapping around every body packed into the space. Heat clung to the walls, thick with whiskey, sweat, and the deep, throaty hum of anticipation.

But all of it quieted—just a little—when she stepped onto the stage. Her deep red dress hugging her curves, sinching in her waist and pushing up her breast.

The pianist struck a slow, rolling tune, and a hush fell over the crowd like a held breath. She let them wait, dragging her fingertips along the microphone stand, tilting her head slightly as she took in the sea of faces before her. Then, just when the tension thickened, she let her voice pour out, smooth and rich like warm molasses.

The song was sultry, the kind that curled its way around a man’s spine and made him lean in just a little closer, made him think about things he shouldn’t in a room full of people. And Lord, did they lean in. The entire saloon was hanging onto her voice, watching the way she swayed, the way her fingers trailed down her own arm, the way she made every lyric sound like a promise whispered against bare skin.

Men leaned closer, their drinks forgotten, their gazes fixed on the woman commanding the stage. Her voice was rich, full of promise, of something dark and sweet.

But there was only one pair of eyes she felt, steady and unwavering through the thick haze of smoke and lantern light. In the very back, where the light barely reached, where the smoke curled the thickest—she saw him.

Terry Richmond.

He was leaning against the bar, broad and still, his hat tilted low but not enough to hide the way his bright eyes. He was half-shrouded in shadow, his bright blue gaze cutting through the dim like a knife. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t talking—just watching.

Her heart skipped a little.

Heat licked up her spine at the intensity of it, but she didn’t let it shake her. She didn’t falter under his gaze. Instead, she let it fuel her, let it shape the way she sang, the way her lips curved around the lyrics, the way she dragged her fingers over the curve of her own waist. If he wanted to look, she was gonna give him something worth looking at.

She kept singing, dragging out the final note, letting it settle over the room like the last flicker of a candle before it goes out. By the time the last note left her lips, the saloon erupted in cheers, men whistling, clapping, stomping their boots against the floor. She gave a slow, knowing smile, dipping into a slight bow before stepping down from the stage.

She didn’t make a show of looking for him, but she knew exactly where she was going.

The moment she reached the bar, a whiskey was already waiting for her—on the house, as always. She took a slow sip, letting the burn settle deep before finally turning, finally meeting his gaze up close. The bar was crowded, but somehow, the space next to Terry was clear. He didn’t look at her right away, just lifted a hand slightly to catch the bartender’s attention. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just looked at her, that same unreadable expression on his face.

“Whiskey?” He asked, voice low, smooth like dark molasses as he gave a small gesture to the glass she already downed. She leaned against the counter, close enough that the edge of her skirt brushed his leg. “You know me too well.” She grinned, already feeling the buzz that the alcohol as giving her. At that, Terry slid a silver coin across the counter, and within seconds, a glass was in front of her. She looked away from him as she took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in her chest. She could feel him watching her, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. That was the thing about Terry—he could say more in a look than most men could in a thousand words.

“You always stare this hard, Richmond?” She asked, looking over at him with a tilt of her head once she had enough of the hard liquor, her voice still thick with the remnants of the song. His lips quirked, just barely, his eyes drifting over her figure. “Only when I like what I see.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, but she kept her expression even, playful. “That so?” She asked, a smirk in her lip and quirk of her brow. “That’s so.” He repeated in confirmation, then kicking his lips. Terry then leaned in just a fraction, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, close enough that she caught the scent of tobacco and cedarwood clinging to his coat.

“So much so.” He murmured, “That I might just have to get my hands on it.” Her breath caught, pulse quickening, but before she could say something sharp, something smart—before she could even decide if she wanted to—Terry’s head tilted slightly, his gaze flickering to the dance floor.

A new song had started.

Something slow. Something meant to be felt more than heard. She barely had time to set her glass down before Terry’s hand slid to her waist.

Without another word, without giving her the chance to refuse, his other hand reached for hers, his grip warm and sure as he led her away from the bar. Her breath hitched. Her heart pounded as she let him pull her into him, his palm settling low against her back. He didn’t ask. Didn’t say a damn word. Just pulled her onto the dance floor.

If he wanted to play with fire, she was more than happy to let him burn.

The moment they stepped into the space, bodies made room for them. Not out of fear, not tonight, but out of knowing. Because everyone in Sugar Cane Creek had eyes. And at that moment, everyone had seen the way Terry Richmond looked at her. The way she looked back.

The tension wrapped around them thick as smoke, curling in the air, pressing against their skin.

Terry moved slow, deliberate, his hand firm at the small of her back, the other clasping hers as he pulled her close—closer than what was proper, closer than what was wise. She let him, her breath shuddering as she settled into him, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. The saloon blurred around them, the lights dim, the chatter distant. None of it mattered. Not when his blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when she could feel the slow drag of his thumb against the back of her hand.

“You dance?” She murmured, her voice teasing, her lips dangerously close to his jaw. She felt him take in a breath with her chest against hers, and if she paused attention, she could’ve sworn she felt the way his heart was beating. “Only when I got reason to.” He answered, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “You given me plenty.” He said, his lips close to her ear as they danced.

She swallowed that his tone so close, heat curling in her belly. “Is that so?”

His fingers flexed against her back, pulling her that last inch closer. His breath, warm and slow, ghosted over her cheek. “Mmhmm.” He hummed with a lick of his lips, the sound causing his body to rumble against hers. She exhaled softly, turning her head just enough that their noses brushed, just enough that if either of them leaned in—just a little—they’d be past the point of no return.

The music swelled, the rhythm thick and slow, wrapping around them like a promise. The way they moved now—close, slow, like something dangerous just beneath the surface—only confirmed what they both had long suspected.

His hand was firm against the small of her back, his other clasping hers as he led her through the steps. It wasn’t a fast dance, nothing rowdy or wild, but it was just as electric. Every turn, every shift, had them pressing together. His breath skimmed the shell of her ear when he leaned in, his grip tightening just enough to let her feel the strength in his arms.

“You always hold a woman this close when you dance?” She whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. Terry’s lips barely curved, his smirk lazy, knowing. “Only when I don’t plan on lettin’ go.” He said, his eyes inspecting every crevice her face had to offer. He didn’t know if he’d bee be this close to her again, and he was taking advantage of the blessing he had to hold her in this way, and gaze at her face as he did.

Her breath hitched.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.

Lord, the way he watched her. He looked at her as if she was the only thing in the room. Like he was memorizing her in real time. She met his gaze, bold as ever, and let her fingers trail slow up his shoulder, tracing the line of his coat until her nails met the hot skin of his neck. A muscle in his jaw ticked at that. His grip on her waist flexed. They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

And then, just when she thought he might tip his head and close the space, just when she thought she might lose her damn mind waiting for it—

He pulled her into the next step of the dance, smooth as silk, a satisfied glint in those blue eyes of his. He was teasing her. Daring her.

If he wanted a game, she was more than happy to play.

“Oh, is that how you want to play?” She asked, feigning innocence while her pulse quickened with anticipation.

Terry’s smirk returned, a challenge wrapped in his expression. “You started it, darlin’.” He replied, stepping into her space that was no longer available due to him, their bodies flush against one another. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, lulling her in despite the playful facade they each wore. He controlled their movements with a firm yet gentle lead, the world around them fading as she lost herself in the intensity of his gaze and the cadence of their bodies moving in sync.

She narrowed her eyes, but her smirk was knowing. Two could play that game. She let her body press just a little closer, her curves molding against the hard lines of him, her breath a warm whisper against his cheek. He swallowed, his fingers tightening against her waist, a sharp inhale the only sign of restraint.

She felt it, that slip of control, and it sent something hot through her veins. "Careful, cowboy." She murmured, voice all honey and silk. "You might not want to let go, but I ain't so sure you can handle holdin’ on."

His eyes then darkened. His grip flexed, strong fingers digging into the curve of her waist, keeping her against him like he had no intention of letting her go. Not now. Not ever. Now, Terry didn’t scare easy. Didn’t flinch and didn’t fold to many.

But her?

She was dangerous in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Her voice, all thick honey and slow-drawn silk, wrapped around him, testing, teasing, tempting as it spilling through his ear and ran though his veins like it was his blood. Keeping his heart pumping. He could feel the shape of her, soft and warm against the hard planes of his body, the sway of their dance turning into something far more dangerous, far more intimate.

He leaned in, just enough that his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You think I can’t handle you?” He asked, his hands drifting lower as he practically engulfed her in his body. She let out a breathy little laugh, conveniently covering the way she took in a sudden breath at his touch, one that made his pulse jump, made his restraint strain at the edges. "Wouldn’t be the first man to try and fail, cowboy.” She whispered to him, her fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, feeling the freshly shaved haircut he had gotten only hours prior.

Terry exhaled through his nose, amused, darkly so.

She was pushing him, daring him. And he welcomed the challenge. So he let his hand slide lower, fingers grazing the base of her spine, just above the curve of her ass, applying the slightest pressure that had her breath catching. She was quick, though. Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she placed her hand on the back of his head, nails scratching ever so lightly. That same muscle in his jaw ticked again.

Her smirk widened.

That was it.

The last frayed thread of his patience snapped.

Without warning, Terry spun her, pressing her back against his front, effectively caging her in. The movement had her chest rising, her lips parting, and damn if that wasn’t the prettiest sight he’d ever seen as he looked down at her. His voice dropped, a low murmur only for her.

"Darlin'..." His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down the side of her neck, lingering at the base of her throat. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath his touch while his other hand rested low on her waist in the front, easing down to a place unimaginable in front of folks. “You’re playin’ with fire." He muttered.

She tilted her chin up, leaning her head back against his chest, gaze smoldering. "Good thing I ain't afraid to burn.” She whispered. And that was all he needed. He quickly spun her around and his mouth was on hers, rough and consuming, his kiss leaving no room for question, no space for anything but him—his hands, his body, the heat of him pressing against every part of her.

She met him with equal fervor, fingers fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth when he pressed himself fully against her. The saloon around them might as well have disappeared.

Nothing else existed in that moment. Just him and just her. That and the fire threatening to consume them both.

One moment, they were moving with the rhythm of the music, spinning slow in the dim glow of the saloon lights. The next, he was leading her off the floor, through the press of bodies, past the thick haze of cigar smoke and whiskey-scented air. The second the cool night air hit her skin, she was backed against the wooden frame of the saloon’s outer wall, the rough grain pressing into her spine, his body caging her in.

There was no more teasing, just as there was no more space between them. She barely had time to breathe before his lips found hers again. Slow, at first, like he was still savoring, still memorizing, but the second she sighed against his mouth, the second her fingers slid into his hair and pulled, something broke between them. The kiss turned hungry and deep.

Like he’d been starving for this—for her—for longer than he cared to admit.

She gasped when he gripped her thigh, hitching it up against his hip, pressing her flush against him, making her feel a bulge she that didn't know was his belt buckle, the crease of his jeans or his manhood. Heat coiled between them, urgent and burning, his mouth trailing from her lips to her jaw, down the curve of her neck. She tilted her head, giving him more, losing herself to the feel of him—the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the quiet growl he let slip when she dragged her nails down his back. "Oh, Terry," She breathed, and damn if he didn’t shudder at the sound of it.

He lifted his head, his forehead pressing against hers, their breath mingling, their bodies still tangled together in the shadows. "I ain’t lettin’ go," He murmured, voice rough, edged with something dangerous. "Not tonight."

She grinned, breathless, running her fingers down the side of his face, feeling the slight roughness of his freshly shaven jaw. "Good." She said before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him to place her lips against her. The kiss lasted for mere seconds, a mash of panting breaths and slick tongues before Terry pulled away. He didn’t say a word before he took her hand, his fingers wrapping firm around hers, rough and warm. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes, the quiet pull of his grip, said enough.

She followed him back through the saloon, past the clinking glasses and low murmur of conversation, past the haze of cigar smoke still hanging thick in the air. The wooden stairs creaked under their steps as he led her up, slow and steady, his thumb tracing slow circles against her palm like he was trying to keep himself anchored. Or like he was memorizing her touch.

She should’ve felt nervous. Should’ve felt some sense of hesitation as they moved further away from the music, from the people, from any excuse to slow this down.

But she didn’t. All she could focus on was him.

The broad stretch of his shoulders. The slow, deliberate pace of his steps. The way he glanced back at her over his shoulder, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable, something that made her stomach dip and heat coil between her ribs.

They reached his door.

And for a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just stood there, facing the wood, his breath slow and measured like he was giving himself a second to think—to decide if this was a line he was ready to cross. Then, without a word, he pushed it open. The second they were inside, it changed.

The tension that had been simmering, stretching between them in the dance, in the way he watched her, in every unspoken moment leading up to this—it snapped.

She barely had time to take in the room before she was against the door, her back pressed against the worn wood, her breath stolen by the press of his body. Terry’s lips crashed against hers, no hesitation now, no teasing restraint. He kissed her like he’d been holding back for too damn long, like he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance again, and she felt it all. The hunger. The need. The slow, deep pull of something dangerously close to devotion.

She gasped when his hands—big, warm, calloused from work—spanned her waist, dragging her closer, molding her to him like he needed to feel every inch of her against him. His hands tacked down, bending slightly to gather the bunch of her skirt. He hiked it up, catching a feel of her warm thighs that molded under his grip. The feeling of her hands caused her to moan in his mouth, her hands moving over him feverishly as she was filled heat she was giving her. He didn’t hold back, moving his hands up for the back of her legs and gracing over the smooth skin of her ass. He tightened his grip, needing it and causing her to gasp into his mouth. He took his as an option to slip his tongue deeper, almost sucking on hers while he moved his hands to begin to untie the strings of her corset.

She didn’t hold back either. Her fingers found the buttons of his vest, fumbling with them, her hands eager and desperate to feel the heat of his skin. His breath hitched against her mouth when she dragged the fabric from his shoulders, then she felt the quiet rumble of a chuckle against her lips when she yanked his shirt free and ragged her hands down his ribbed abdomen, impatience getting the best of her.

"So eager.” He murmured against her lips, voice low and teasing.

She narrowed her eyes, nipping softly at his bottom lip with her teeth, her nails grazing down his chest, feeling the sharp inhale he took at the touch. "So are you." She purred.

And he didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he reached back down, cupped her though just under her ass, and lifted her, carrying her further into the room like she weighed nothing at all. She barely had time to register the shift before she felt the softness of the mattress beneath her, his weight pressing her down, his mouth trailing slow, lingering kisses down the column of her throat. His touch was slow and sensual, his hands finding any place to rub and caress. Like he was still memorizing, like he was savoring.

But the moment she whispered his name—breathy and wanting—something shifted again. His slow, deliberate control had snapped.

And neither of them held back anymore.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him closer as if she was trying to meld them into one. Terry's breath caught as his bulge hit her core, his hands gripped her tighter, holding her as if he were afraid she might slip away. The world outside faded -no clinking glasses, no murmurs, just the vibrant thud of their hearts battling for attention in the silence between their kisses. Their mouths slid together with a hunger that left her breathless. Every kiss deepened the fire sparking between them, waves of adrenaline crashing over her as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer as he dipped down to claim her throat once more. He kissed his way down, worshipping her skin with heated touches and soft bites, igniting every nerve ending in her body.

"Tell me what you want.” He murmured against her collarbone, his breath hot against the cool air of the room. “Come on, tell me baby. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He breathed out. There was something dangerously tender in his rough but needy words, as if he genuinely wanted to know-not just in the heat of the moment, but in that space where everything was laid bare.

She didn't hesitate. "You. All of you. Right here, right now, baby. Give it to me." It was a wild and brisk admission, and a thrill shot through her at the honesty in her voice. She could feel Terry's pulse quicken at her words, a primal urge coursing through him. He raised his head, looking directly into her eyes, and in that moment, she understood. This was more than a fleeting encounter. This was a collision of desires that had been simmering for far too long.

With a sharp intake of breath, he dove back into her mouth, a feverish kiss that stole her thoughts and drowned her in pleasure. She felt the weight of him press into her, his body a delicious contradiction of strength and softness. He paused for the briefest moment to catch her gaze, the heat in his eyes burning deeper than before, and she sensed the shift—not just in the proximity of their bodies, but in the intensity of everything that hung between them.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, pulling back just enough for her to see the uncertainty mingled with desire in his eyes. She could sense it— the weight of the moment, the gravity of their choices. "Absolutely.” She replied, her heart racing with certainty. She reached for him again, pulling him closer, and felt a grin split his face as he dove into her once more, taking her breath and leaving nothing but a breathless gasp in its wake.

Their clothes were off in an instant.

Once her corset was off and the full expanse of her skin was showing, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heart's content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. "I love the way you sound." He said before grumbling out her name.

"Yeah?" She sighed, eyes closed as she took in the feeling of his tongue as he licked up her sternum. "I love the way you say my name." She breathed.

"Yeah?" Terry releated as his hands drifted lower in her body. “ I love your body. Your perfect." He paused to place a kiss on her stomach. “Perfect.” Another kiss, this time below her belly button. “Perfect, body.” He finished, his warm breath blowing on her core. His hands moved from her waist, deriding lower to ease her legs apart as he took in the sigh before him. He audibly moaned at the sight, practically drooling as he looked at her. “So fucking pretty.” He whispered. He wanted to taste all she had to offer. Before she could sink in, She placed her hand on his head, pushing his head back. “Wait.” She said.

Terry looked up at her, his large blue eyes dark and blown with lust. “What is it baby?” He asked, licking his lips as his eyes trailed over her form laid out before him. Her eyes sifted away from his stare, biting at her bottom lip before she spoke. “I…I’ve never had a fella go down there before.” She said softly.

Terry’s smirk faded, his expression shifting into something softer, something reverent. He rested his hands on her hips, his thumbs stroking slow and reassuring circles against her skin, before he placed his head on her bender knee. “Ever?” He asked. His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving, but there was no judgment—just understanding, just care. And something a little more that neither of them knew.

She shook her head, eyes darting away, almost shy. “Ain’t never been with a man who wanted to.” She shrugged a bit, still biting at her lower lip.

Terry exhaled sharply, his brows pulling together for the briefest moment, like the thought alone frustrated him. He cupped the side of her thigh, grounding her, making sure she felt him, felt the sincerity in his touch.

“Well.” He said, voice warm and steady, “You got one now.”

Her eyes flickered back to his, searching, cautious. But all she found was certainty. His lips brushed against her skin, his breath warm as he murmured, “You just tell me what feels good, darlin’. I got you. I just want you to play back. You ain’t gotta worry no more.” He said, his voice going back into the deep ruble that set her ablaze. And the way he said it—so sure, so gentle—made something deep in her chest tighten. Because she believed him.

So that’s what she did, ladies back against the pillows and open her legs further, barring it all and offering it to him. And Terry took it with life, gratitude, as well as pure lust. Like a magnet, Terry's fingers found their way to her slick lips as he gathered wetness before dragging his skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle before he pressed his lips against her plump thigh, squeezing with the other hand. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.

He then lunged forward with hunger, letting his tongue do all the talking, slithering inside of her warm walls as his nose nudged her clit. She tensed up with every nudge, let out small pants at the unfamiliar yet raviging feeling that washed over her. He glanced down, watching as he freely put his face in her center. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of her, her pussy glistening like he just doused her in oil.

"Ohh, look at you, baby.” The grumble that came deep from within his throat as he watched her cute clenched around nothing as she continued to whine from the loss of contact from above. And his green eyes on her most intimate parts made it so hard not to get hot and bothered even with him not doing anything. Her poor nub was jumping with excitement as he used his large fingers to spread her lips open. “Look who’s happy to see me." He said as he took in a sharp breath, feeling her slick coating his fingers, the sound of her wetness loud within the room. “You happy to see me, hun? Huh?“ He questioned, looking up at her.

She moan and nodded eagerly, bringing her hand to cover her mouth at the stimulation he was giving her down under. Terry smiled at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He tried to keep his eyes on hers, looking into her large orbs that were filled with pleasure and a slight sheen of tears at his touch, but her pussy that just kept sucking his fingers in had him in a trance as his sick standing at attention in his underwear. “Tell me you’re happy I’m down here. Making you feel so good.” He demanded. His tone didn’t leave anymore for defiance, which she took as she angered him. “I’m so happy you’re here, Terry. You feel so good, baby.” She whined out as best as she could, breaths short and rocked her hips into his fingers.

"Mmm, yeah, I know.” Terry grinned. “When the last time sometime touched you, huh?" He asked, but this time he got no response watching as she began to reach her high and feeling her clench around his finger. Tweeting pulled his hand back at that, causing the woman to whine at the loss of contact. “Tell me, hun, and we can continue.” He said.

"I-I don't remember.” She said, and she was telling the truth, she truly couldn't. It had to be nothing worth remembering, especially in comparison to what he was making her feel now.

"Well, I’m gon’ make sure you remember this, hear" He then bent down to deliver a bite to her plush thigh, almost as if he was warning her for what's to come before he dove his face back into her heat, slurping at her hard and soaked clit. Her belly was doing summersaults, she could barely contain her volume at the feeling of his long and warm muscle working a magic she’s never felt before. But her sounds were the last of his worries, they were actually only fuel to his already burning fire.

As he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned in her, letting he know and feel that he was having just as much fun as she was.

Her legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, her hands gripping onto the white sheets of the inn bed since that was all she had to hold on to after he practically ripped her’s and his clothes off beforehand.

"Yes! Yes, oh, yes! I'm so close, Terry baby.” She struggled to keep her eyes on him even with his staring back up at her over her pudge, his eyes low lidded and dark. They beckoned her to stay, to not go levee the edge just yet, but her pleasure had came rolling through like a monsoon and wiped all the thoughts from her brain. She was a shaking, blubbering mess under his weight as he continued to lick and eat at her juices. He moved his mouth away from her pussy only to replace it with his hand, rubbing her clit in tight circles as he subconsciously moved her hips.

"Just feel it, baby. Let it happen.” He cooed in that sexy country drawl. She tried to fight against his hand, her thighs subconsciously closing around his wrist. But he smacked his large hand into her juicy thighs and kept at it with his other hand until he felt like he was done. "Be still and met it happen, baby." He cooed, enticing another moan from the woman. She felt like she was literally about to float up into the heavens, her back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

"Okay! Oh, Fuck!" She screamed. “Yes, Terry!” He moved his hand to allow her to go through the motions, watching as she twitched until that special feeling left her center. "Good job, baby.” He said, pressing a soft kiss on her thighs. “Good job, my pretty girl." Another kiss from him was placed beside her opened mouth as heavy breathing left as he moved up her body.

As the tremors faded from her body, she lay there, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim lights of the room. Her limbs felt weightless, boneless, as if she’d melted right into the bed.

Terry was still there, right where he had been, his hands firm on her thighs, holding her steady like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. He pressed slow, lingering kisses to the inside of her knee, then another, trailing up, as if savoring the aftermath.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found him watching her, his expression unreadable at first—like he was memorizing her in this moment, like he was trying to etch the sight of her pleasure into his bones. A slow, lazy smirk then tugged at his lips. “Ain’t never seen somethin’ so damn pretty.” His voice was rough, thick with satisfaction, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers finding their way into his hair, rubbing lightly. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, cowboy.” She smirked. Terry hummed with chortle, leaning into her touch, his hands sliding up to rest at her waist as he crawled up beside her. “Ain’t about makin’ you feel special.” He murmured against her skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You already are.”

Her breath hitched, her heart fluttering in her chest at the way he said it—so simple, so certain. She turned her head to look at him, finding those piercing blue eyes already on her, unwavering. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. There was no need to.

Instead, she reached for him, guiding his face to hers, and kissed him slow—letting him feel exactly how much she believed him. She slowly came back to herself with her lips attached to his, still basking in the warmth of his touch. She let her fingers trail down his chest, her nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his briefs. She could feel the way his breath hitched, bus bulge rubbing against her. The tension still coiled tight in his body despite the easy way he lay beside her.

A slow smirk pulled at her lips as she traced top of his boxers, slipping her hand into them with practiced ease. “Reckon I should return the favor.” She murmured, her voice soft, teasing.

But before she could go any further, Terry’s hand caught hers—not rough, not forceful, just firm enough to stop her in place. She looked up, brows furrowing in confusion, but the look in his eyes made her pause. “Ain’t about that.” He said quietly, his voice still thick, still warm, but full of something deeper. He squeezed her fingers, rubbing slow circles into the back of her hand. “You just came down from somethin’ real intense, darlin’. I just wanna hold you right now.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his words, by the tenderness in them. “Terry, I—”

“I know.” He gave her a small, lazy smile, shifting so he could pull her closer against him. “We got time for all that. Just… let me have this. Let me have you right here in this exact moment. We might not ever get it again.”

And the way he said it, like holding her in his arms was just as much of a pleasure as anything else, sent something warm through her chest. The way he already planned for this to be something more made her body flutter in a way only he can make happen. She sighed, settling against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That’s my good girl.” He said before placing a kiss on her warm skin.

And with that, they stayed there, tangled up in each other, letting the night stretch out slow and easy.

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[keyaho]

.summary.: what's a little conversation among friends? nami and terry have some Play Time.

Kinks (in order they appear): oral m receiving, facefucking, terry is a chatty dom, fingering, oral f receiving,  anal play (plug insertion), slight degradation, spanking, cum play, nami experiences sub space (cnc) Wordcount: 8k+ graphics: @firefly-graphics / @cafekitsune note: this is broken into two parts @zillasvilla watched me all weekend work on this and was like "Break it apart"

Terry had given Nami a week to reset. He would send her a text or call every now and then, but she hadn’t seen him in a week. She counted down the days until Friday and now that it was here she was anticipating so much. He had promised so much and all she had to do was behave. He was going to be spending the weekend at her place which mean it was a weekend of Play Time. A reward for getting through the long week of school, work, and her personal life. 

Nami had spent the whole weekend prepping her apartment for Terry. She switched her sheets to black so they looked like the ones in his guest room that she used. There were some light yellow accents. Water was stocked in the fridge along with enough snacks to get them through whatever he had planned. She didn’t want to have to leave the bedroom for anything. 

Currently, she was dashing around; sweeping, vacuuming, dusting, moping, and the apartment smelled like an apple orchid. The light fruity scent came from multiple candles. He was supposed to come at eight and they’d have breakfast and she’d hope to jump right into being jumped on. 

Satisfied with the cleaning she did, Nami dashed to her bedroom and turned on her shower. She had everything to do once she was in; shave, exfoliate, cleanse, moisturize! She wanted this weekend to go as smooth as she was trying to make her skin. She had coco butter and a light scented body oil waiting on the counter. 

Her thoughts drifted to Terry and their situation. Someone as perfect as Terry had to have some flaw about him and though she was enjoying herself, she had her guard up. Being here for his pleasure was all good and she was a willing participant, but her need for the closeness of a partner was rearing its ugly head. She wanted more of a connection that wasn’t just his hands on her body. She’d have to talk to him about it. 

Nami finished in the shower and patted herself dry. She lathered her body in lotion and oil, creating a sweet vanilla scent that would linger as the day passed. She removed the rollers from her hair, the blow-out keeping it’s shape and curls. She found it much easier to have her hair down. He could wrap it around his hand better and the feeling of his fist against the back of her head made her cunt quiver. Playtimes were meant to be fun and light, no real lesson or teaching moment. It was about her pleasure. But she wanted him to manhandle her, without it being tied to punishment. She loved the build up. 

Terry hadn’t told her what to wear, but she knew what to not put on. Reaching into her closet, she pulled out a pair of white soffee shorts and a yellow crop top. Just as she was coming out of her room, her doorbell went off. Nami slid over to the door and yanked it open. 

“Hi,’ she greeted while leaning against the door frame. 

Terry looked down at her and her outfit, humming in satisfaction, then pulled her to him as he stepped inside the apartment. He dropped his bag beside the door and kicked off his shoes while holding her still with his hands on her face and his lips on hers. He guided her towards her couch and made her sit. 

“It’s been a long week,’ he whispered, ‘Daddy just needs you to suck his dick first,’ he pushed down the waistband of his sweats and she watched his dick pop up and smack against his stomach. “Hands on your knees and keep them there.” 

He grabbed the back of her head and guided her mouth towards his leaking tip. 

“Relax.” He reminded her. 

Guiding his tip past her lips she relaxed her jaw and stuck out her tongue. Nami’s eyes clenched as he pushed further into her mouth. She breathed rapidly through her nose, managing to keep herself calm enough for him to slide down her throat. Her nose brushed his pelvis as he held her there. Her nails dug into her knees, leaving half crescent shapes.

“Good girl,’ he cooed, ‘I’ve been edging myself all week for you.” 

Terry pulled his hips back and pushed them forward, using her mouth to get off. 

“I’ve been thinking about you stuffed full of my dick.” 

Nami looked up at him as the tip of his dick poked down her throat. Drool slid over her chin and over the front of her top. His stance widened as he moved her head up and down faster. Her spit covered his balls and she wanted to reach out to grab them. 

“I’m going to hold myself off,’ he pulled her mouth off his dick and watched the spit and drool fall out of her mouth in a thick string connecting to his dick. “Suck the tip,’ he ordered. 

She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the head of his dick, sucking as he asked. Her cheeks hollowed out each time and he hissed, stroking the rest of his length with a tight fist. 

“Head back,’ he grunted roughly, tugging on her curls, ‘mouth open.” 

She stuck her tongue out for good measure and Terry watched her brown eyes look up at him in anticipation. His hand twisted up and down his dick. Above her, Terry jacked off against her lips. She listened to him bite back his moans. She felt emboldened by her position in front of him. Her tongue darted out and lapped at his tip again, smearing his pre-cum like frosting on a cake. 

“That’s not being good,’ he gritted his teeth together and she giggled, repeating the action, much to his satisfaction. “Shit.” 

Yanking her head backward, Terry leered over her as he choked his dick with his hand. His cum flew out in thick ropes of cum, hot and sticky on her mouth and tongue. He tasted a little salty, but it seemed like he had just come from working out. The thought of sucking his dick right after a workout was a kink she didn’t realize she wanted to act out. Terry pushed his dick into her mouth and she sucked him clean, the mess on her face cooling as her head bobbed up and down. He pushed her back into the couch and admired his work of art on her face. 

Twenty minutes later, Nami was cleaned up and sitting at the kitchen island. Terry cooked breakfast; eggs, sausage, and grits. While eating he sat next to her with one of his hands between her legs. He wasn’t touching her pussy, yet, but his hand was close enough she could feel a little heat. 

“You know it’s Play Time but let me give you a few ground rules. You get to cum as much as you want to but there are still boundaries.” 

He grabbed her thigh. “No touching me or yourself unless you have permission.” 

“You already know how to address me.” he paused. “And you understand when that changes.” 

He told her it would be easy to tell who she was dealing with when they were together. Sir would have told her to drop to her knees at the door. He would have bent her over the arm of the couch and fucked her mouth. Daddy was nicer, sweeter, the man in front of her right now, and that she was excited about it. Then there was Terry. He told her it wasn’t a person she wanted to meet during any of their time together. He made himself sound like a caged animal locked away to keep the public safe. Terry was unforgiving. A disciplinarian to the highest degree. Sir was a cake walk compared to Terry, but Nami was never going to find that out. Her behavior would have to be egregious. 

“Daddy,’ she says, eyes on her plate as she shoves her fork into her eggs. 

“Let me know if it gets to be too much.” 

Terry turned in his chair and pulled her chair closer to him. The hand between her legs moved and she felt two of his fingers snake themselves into her pussy. He wiggled them deep and watched her head loll backwards. Her mouth parted and she struggled to keep still and let him touch her how he wanted to. 

Standing up, Terry moved behind her. He kept his hand between her legs, stroking her pussy with two fingers. His other hand snaked under her shirt, cupping her breast before tugging and pulling on her taut nipple. His lips found her neck, the three feelings overwhelming her body like a flood. 

“I want to make you feel good.” He moved to the other nipple, tugging cowards on it. “Does it feel good when I touch you like this?” 

His fingers stroked up to her clit, painting it in her slick before he plunged them back into her hole. His thumb pressed on her clit, pushing the throbbing bundle of nerves until she shook on the stool. 

“Talk to me Nami,’ he says, ‘tell me to play with your pussy.” 

The hand that was playing with her nipples wrapped around her throat. Leaning back against his chest, Terry held her still with his upper body while his fingers strummed her pussy like a guitar. 

“I like when you touch me like this,’ she panted. Her chest rose and fell in time with her beating heart. “Your fingers feel so good, Daddy.” 

“Do they?” He asked. Terry pulled them out and put them into her mouth.

She sucked slowly on his fingers as he pulled her from the stool. He walked her to the dining table and laid her across it. He pulled up a chair and pushed her legs to her chest as he sat down. Served up for his tasting, Terry did just that.

Terry excused himself to the bathroom. Nami cleaned up from breakfast, dumping the cold food and putting the coffee into the fridge to use later. She slipped on her shorts and wiped down the dining table. She brought out throw blankets and tossed them on the couch. She convinced him to watch a movie with her. As she spread out her favorite blanket there was a hard knock on her door. 

She wasn’t expecting anyone so when she opened the door and saw Mona and her dom standing there she was surprised. 

“What are you doing here,’ Nami asked.  

“I haven’t heard from you since we went out. Busy?” Mona’s tone was both cautious and blunt. She kept looking at her dom, who was standing by the foyer. He didn’t look happy at all. 

“School, you know it’s my last semester.” Nami replied. “Is everything okay?” 

Mona didn’t just stop by. At least not without calling ahead first. 

“Did he get tired of you yet?” Her Dom jokes. He leers at Nami, seeing exactly why Terry was hooked on her. 

“You know no one is going to want you in the community now? I mean, I told you what Terry did to submissives.” Mona says, ‘so, why did he leave? What stupid mistake did you make?” 

Nami shook her head. “No, no, no, he’s still my dominant.” 

The same dominant that was in her bathroom and probably listening to this very conversation. 

“He’s not here, so it doesn’t matter,’ her dom says annoyed. “Let me tell you something bitch,’ he growls, turning his sudden fury on Nami. “Don’t you ever get another man to try to tell me what to do. I ain’t some little bitch to fuck with.” 

Shirtless, Nami saw Terry step out of the room, a scowl on his face. It was very clear he heard everything that was said. 

“Mona, you brought him here to tell me that,’ Nami says as she takes a step backwards. 

“She does what I tell her and if you don’t get your dog to mind his business handling an overstepping submissive will be my business.” 

“A business you’re failing.” Terry said. 

Four sets of eyes turned to him in shock. Mona’s eyes raked over Terry’s bare chest and the way his sweats hung low on his hips. Terry couldn’t remember their names and didn’t care either, but he wasn’t going to let them speak to Nami like that. 

“You brought your dominant to your friend’s place,’ Terry says as he assesses the situation before him. “You brought another man to the house of your friend, who is a woman. To be yelled at and threatened.” 

“We-’

”I just want to get the story straight.” 

He walked over to Mona, the same way her dominant had walked up on Nami. Except, Mona was enjoying the attention. He could see it in her eyes; this is what she wanted. Her tight lip expression might fool the other man in the room, but he knew all he had to do was speak and Mona would drop to her knees. 

“Tell her you’re jealous,’ Terry says. “Tell Nami, you’re jealous of her.” 

“I’m not…no! Nami, I’m not-’

In a sweet voice, Terry folded his arms over his chest. “Tell. Her.” He looked at Nami and motioned her to move towards him. Just within reach, he had her stop. “I like submissives who listen. Your defiance is a turn off. That’s why I’ve never looked your way. I love me a brat,’ he says, looking at Nami with a smirk, ‘but you are a petulant brat. The worst kind.” 

Mona’s mouth dropped open and her eyes darted between the two men in the room. Only one of them had control and she looked over her shoulder at Nami. Terry snapped his fingers in her face. 

“Look at me when you say it,’ he says, ‘and mean it. Or you’ll stand here and say it until I tell you to stop.” 

Her chance with Terry was long gone at this point. She knew that the moment he pulled her from the bar in the club. 

“I’m jealous of Nami.” 

“Why?” Terry asked. “Tell her why you’re jealous.” 

Mona looked at her dominant and Terry laughed. 

“I don’t know why you’re looking at him. He’s a switch at best, he’s not going to do anything for you.” 

Nami’s Play Time was being interrupted and he could see was getting frustrated with the situation. As much as he wanted to draw this out, and he should, he didn’t want to completely ruin Nami’s day. He had a lot planned for her. 

Terry stared at Mona causing her to fidget and eventually look up at him. 

“I’m jealous of Nami because you picked her to be your submissive.” Terry leaned in, his voice low. He only wanted Mona to hear what he was about to tell her.

“I should make you tell her exactly how you really feel about her.” 

Nami could sense that when they were getting dressed for the party. Her line of questioning had made her feel undesirable and to know Terry picked up on it as well didn’t make her feel as crazy as she thought she was. 

“You’re lucky Nami is here.” Terry turned to the other man in the room and approached him. “Handling an overstepping submissive? I know you weren’t talking about Nami.” 

“Nah,” he says, ‘Mona wanted to come see her friend.”

“I don’t want to do this right now.” Nami says. “Leave please.” 

“You heard her,’ Terry says, though his eyes dare the man in front of her to move. 

Mona turned around and gave Nami an apologetic look. “Call him off,’ she says, gesturing towards the stand off between the men. 

Nami’s euphoric state of bliss was being compromised. This disruption was toying with her Play Time and she didn’t want Terry to be too annoyed to play with her. Nami felt hot in the face but it wasn’t from anger. She was getting upset and frustrated. Terry stood there, stoic and squared off, his stance defensive. 

“Nami please,’ Mona says. 

“Why should she do anything for you?” Terry taunted. He says, turning his head to glance at Mona and Nami behind him. 

“The way you called me about her, you don’t get to speak to Mona that way.” 

“Oh, wheres the bass you had with my girl,’ Terry grinned, ‘all that bravado is gone now that I’m in the room huh.” 

“No one is scared of you,’ he replied, brows knitting together as his jaw tensed. 

“I don’t want you to be,’ Terry replied. “I want you to be uncomfortable. I want you to not be weak. Defend your submissive,’ he taunted, ‘you don’t want me to talk to her?” He whispered. “Tell me.” 

The tension in the room was high. Nami took a step towards Terry, hoping to diffuse the situation and get them out. 

“Just go, Mona,’ Nami says. 

Walking towards her bedroom she put space between her and the chaos swirling around her kitchen. She sat on the edge of her bed, legs folded as she dropped her head into her hands. Her friendship with Mona had been great. She never once did she think Mona had ill feelings towards her. Hearing her be jealous, and mean, over her relationship with Terry was hard. She wanted to share all her experiences with Terry with her. Finally diving into BDSM led to the break down of a friendship, if it ever was there. 

“Hey,’ Nami looked up, face wet. 

“Yes, Sir?” She says. 

“Lie back.” 

She did as she was told and they both moved on from what happened in the kitchen. She didn’t want to talk about it anyway and further mess up her morning. Terry moved to stand by the head of her bed. Her cuffs were slung over his shoulder and something silver was resting in his palm.  

“Shorts off, bend your legs and keep them open for me.” 

Nami did as told and also removed her top, Terry laughed at her haste and kissed her forehead. He cuffed her hands before kissing them. 

“Keep them up,’ he says. 

Crawling into the bed, Terry kissed his way up her leg, sucking the soft skin into his mouth as he watched her chest rise and fall. She anticipated things and her body responded to it. She knew his mouth was about to touch her pussy, so she anticipated it. Her body warmed and she started to leak slick from her lower lips. His warm breath heightened that feeling and she almost kicked him in the face when his lips landed on her knee. 

“Relax,’ he says, ‘you will need to relax for what I’m about to do.” 

He took her clit in his mouth, sucking slowly, while his fingers stroked around her wet hole. Terry pushed them in slowly, curling his fingers upwards as his tongue flattened against her clit. She was lost in the sensation of his mouth and fingers that when something cold, wet, and hard pressed against her asshole, she jumped. Terry pulled away from her pussy, licking his lips as he eyed the messed between her legs. 

“Sir?” 

“It’s a plug.” 

“A plug? For what?” 

“I think you know what it’s for. You asked for it.” 

Nami breathed out and Terry’s head went back down between her legs. She focused on the way he devoured her pussy, licked and sucked until she was trembling again. She felt his hands moved, but not the anal plug. Instead, Terry licked his way down from her pussy to her ass then back up. 

His devotion to eating pussy was unmatched and she never had a guy who enjoyed it for his personal pleasure and not just hers. He was doing it because he wanted to and it was for his own desires. There was a pool of her slickness on the bed between her legs, around his mouth, and coating the inside of her thighs. She got so messy.

As Nami began to wiggle and squirm to keep from riding his face, Terry used one hand to spread her left ass cheek. The anal plug rubbed against her puckered hole while his tongue licked back into her weeping sex. Both his tongue and the plug surged froward at the same time. 

“Oh fuck,’ she cursed. 

Terry smacked her outer thigh. “Watch that mouth.” 

He pushed it to the hilt, making sure it was snug. The stretch was different and it made her clit throb. She clenched around it, only pulling it further in before it would relax as she unclenched. She felt full. The bulbous head of the plug stretched her deliciously. 

“Oh that’s pretty.” 

Netflix was on but Nami wasn’t sure what was playing any more. She straddled Terry’s lap, his hands on her thighs, smoothing around to her ass while another scratched up her naked back. The only thing she wore was the anal plug, firmly nestled in her ass, and her cuffs. The yellow material really looked like bracelets when they weren’t hooked together and to the bed. She held her own arms behind her back as they kissed. Her hips and his doing a motion against each other. She’d rocked side to side and he would jerk his hips up and down. The friction of his dick pressing against her led to more anticipation of what was to come. 

Naked, Nami was exposed to him. Her body on display as she pulled away from his mouth to breathe. 

“Let’s go to bed,’ he says, ‘I’m ready to fuck you.” 

It was noon, the sun w as high in the sky as Terry tossed Nami on the bed. She bounced and moved towards the pillows, her hands in front of her. Terry dropped his sweats. She had seen his dick numerous times but there was something about this time that was different. She watched as he touched himself, his hand stroking upwards towards his tip when he grimaced from the touch. Sensitive, she logged that for later. He always ended their night in her mouth and if she got the chance she’d make sure to play with the sensitive tip. 

He had another bottle in his hands before he squeezed a clear gel into his palm. 

“Fucking your throat is one thing,’ he says, dropping a knee to the bed as he palmed his dick again. “Fucking you is another and I want to make sure I slide right in.”

This had been the moment Nami was waiting for. She knew he was going to fuck her, but, she wasn’t prepared for just how good he was going to fuck her. 

“Sir, I don't,’ she whined, her body so intensified with emotions of pain and pleasure she could barely form words. She didn’t know if she wanted Terry to stop fucking her or keep going, but the inbetween felt too good to care. Her legs had long fallen to the bed, open and pliant in his hands. His hips snapped between hers slamming his balls against her ass as his dick finally split her open. As he finally fucked her like the dominant he was, uncaring, crazed, feral. Using her pussy in ways that made her more gushy than a Gusher candy. 

“Mhn,’ he called, “Tell me what you need, baby.” 

“Ah!,’ she keened. 

His hips snapped upwards, then rutted against her, applying pressure to her clit. 

“Talk to me so I know you’re okay. Tell Daddy what’s wrong,’ he cooed, bending over to kiss her drooling lips. He looked into her eyes, watching as she forced them straight but couldn’t help but cross them when he hit that spongy spot deep in her cunt. 

“You’re so sweet for letting Daddy fuck you like this,’ he praised, ‘letting him use you while you can barely think straight. Shit feel good, hm?” He looked down where their bodies were joined. The mess between her legs was hypnotizing. She was so wet and creaming so much. “Giving Daddy such good pussy tonight.” 

“I’m good,’ she repeated, as if she was asking him a question, not believing she was. 

“Yes,’ he hissed, licking a long swipe up her neck before sucking a red spot into the side of it. Nami arched her chest into his, find some strength to wrap her legs around his waist, crying out at the way he began to wine his hips. “You gonna let Daddy play in his pussy, right?”

Her hands were tied above her head this time and she pulled on her restraints as she felt his fingers slid into her mouth for her to suck on.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ she hummed over and over. “Play in my sweet pussy Daddy,’ she mumbled, the words coming out between her moans.

“I know you are,’ he hummed a familiar beat, ‘gimmie that sweet,’ he flexed, his dick jumped, she cried out, ‘that nasty,’ he leaned down, going from two feet to one foot on the bed beside her open hips, ‘that gushy stuff.” 

The sounds she made were wet and sticky; sloshing almost and it just kept spilling out of her this way. The position sent him deeper, stuffing her nice and full with all nine and a half inches. 

Her lower body wiggled, trying to fight the pressure building as he stilled his body. Terry used her mouth like a toy, sucking her tongue into his, biting her lips, drawing a little of pain from the pleasure she was feeling between her legs. The stretch burned, but fuck, he made it feel so good. He hoisted her legs up so they fell over his arms. Fully seated in her pussy, he rubbed against her. 

“You look so good taking my dick,’ he praises.

Nami ached to touch him. It was the one thing she had been working to earn since their first night, but he always bound her hands away from him. Avoided her finger like the plague. He knew her body so intimately her pussy clenched around his dick at the thought. Terry’s hands dropped to her waist in a bruising hold. 

“That’s it, cum on my dick,’ he said, finally finding a rhythm she could rock her hips to. 

Nami squirmed beneath him as he he fucked her into the bed. She was already running like a faucet, but when Terry pushed her legs towards her her head she gushed, a cord snapping as she came, squirting on him as he chased his high. Fuck he was so big. She thought, trying to catch her breath as her body tensed and jerked beneath him. 

The wet sound of their skin slapping as Terry dug her out as he chased his high. His ball clenched tight as he held her throat and hip to keep her still. Him wearing his pussy out was the only thing on his mind, making her so tired she purred for his mouth to make it feel better. Terry could see how fucked out she was, her body coming down from her orgasm. He dropped his weight to her body, pushing them both up the bed and rutting against her as he placed her legs on his shoulders and leaned down. Still deep in that shit, Terry made sure she could feel him, poking that g-spot over and over. All she could do is scream out for him, cry, and beg him to not stop, and that he felt so good. Her sweet voice was slurred, each work leaving her lips like she was drunk off his dick. 

Nami felt like she was in a tunnel. Terry’s voice was muffled to her, the intense feeling her body was experiencing had filled her head with so much pleasure she couldn’t think straight. It hurt to think about anything other than how he was making her body feel. 

“Why you fucking me like this, ma’ he asks, hissing from how tight her pussy gripped him. “Why you sucking me in so deep, baby.” 

Nami cried, too overwhelmed to respond with anything else. Her body, down to her tippy toes, was numb. She was barely holding onto reality. 

“Ain’t no other nigga gon’ fuck you like this.” 

She heard him speaking but it was more to himself, stroking his big ass ego the way his big ass dick was stroking her tight walls. 

Terry looked at her, tears running from her eyes, her body shaking as she took his hard thrusts. He turned his head, kissing her both of her ankles he swiveled his hips side to side and she quivered. 

“You want to nut again don’t you.” He grit his teeth together, the squishy sounds permeating the air the same way the smell of their sex did. “Hold that shit in,’ he snapped, ‘let me play in my pussy a lil’ longer.” 

He could feel her about to cum and knew she wasn’t going to be able to hold it in. Her body had betrayed her twice already and those orgasms damn near made him bust. Terry yanked his dick out and dropped her legs to the bed. Nami whimpered and tried to reach for him, forgetting her hands were tied to the bed post. Splayed out, Terry bent down between her legs, his tongue replacing his dick. He slurped her clit into his mouth, flattened his tongue and dragged it up and down, coating his face in her slick.

“Oh Daddy,’ she drawled out. She planted one foot on the bed and arched towards his mouth. 

His hand slapped against her ass, twice. “Pretty ass pussy,’ he mumbled, fisting his dick to stroke as he lapped at her drenched lips. “Why you so fucking wet hm? I can drown in this shit.” Terry released her clit with a soft popping sound and grabbed her legs again. His thrust back in jerked her upwards on the bed. He bottomed out and watched her grab the rope of her restraints. 

“Tell me what you need,’ he said, slowing his thrusts so enjoy the way she sighed in content. He had abused this pussy for at least an hour, taking what he needed from her. 

“Let me touch you,’ she whined, ‘please.” 

Touch. Fuck. He knew the moment her hands touched him he would lose it. He always did. There was something about his girl, his sub, clinging to him for dear life, raking nails down his back like he knew she wanted to do. 

“Please, please, please…’ she begged, a fresh set of tears springing from her eyes as she cried. His pace quickened. 

She never asked before and he could see the longing in her eyes when they were together or in a scene. Touch was his kink. The closeness drove him crazy. Whether it was on his shoulder or back, his dick was bricked, painfully so. 

He shook the thought away and continued to fuck her into the bed. Her pussy gripped his dick right and he groaned. 

“Daddy just had to give this pussy something to do.” He grunted. He saw Nani’s arms and body slowly begin to relax. “That’s it,’ he coached.

Nami began to cry. The sensation she was feeling was out of body. She felt so high and weightless but at the same time grounded and heavy from his thrusts. She didn’t cry from pain but the pleasure just needed another way out. She unclenched her fists as he rocked his hips into hers. His dick curved slightly to the left and stretched her just as good. Terry’s dick was big. 

“It’s okay baby,’ he cooed. 

Nami whines and whimpered. Her thigh began to shake from her resolve snapping. She felt too exposed. The room light suddenly blinded her as he took off the scarf. Blurry she blinked out her tears as she turned her head to the side and went to bite down on her arm when Terry grabbed her face. 

“Just feel it,’ he slowed his strokes and grinned as she sobbed. His tongue darted out and he licked her tears before sucking her lips into a kiss. 

“Let Daddy take care of you, hm?” He wrapped his hand around her throat and held her to the bed. He looked into her eyes. They were glossy and she had a dazed expression on her face though she was fighting it. 

“But….Daddy,’ she protested, her hips trying to get his to move again. 

“Be a good girl,’ he says as he thrusts once more.

He resumed fucking Nami, filling her inch by inch with his dick. He held her hips and gave her slow but forceful thrusts. Her pussy choked his dick.

“Shit I’m going to fuck this pussy open.” He popped Nami on the thighs and she looked at him with doey brown eyes. “You're sitting on this dick all weekend.” 

“Oh!” She whimpered, her pussy making wet sounds as his words make her gush a little. 

Terry noticed and smirked. “You like when I talk to you like that, hm?” 

He leans over her, his forehead pressing against hers as he watches his dick slide in an out of her cunt. There was a mess between their legs. A sticky, slippery, wet, mess. He sunk himself deep each thrust, caging her body between him and the bed so she didn’t slide across the sheets. Terry rubbed his hands down her thigh and then hooked it behind her knee before pushing it to the bed. 

“Open up,’ he growled, eyes rolling backwards as she clenched around him. “Fuck, open that pussy up.” 

Nami tugged on her restraints until they shook the headboard. Her body was slipping from her control and all she could do was let it happen. He had a tight grip on her leg, holding her still as he pummeled her into the mattress. The sheets were askew and pillows were somewhere on the floor. His sweat dripped onto her body, the cold droplets adding to the sensations her body was experiencing. Her clit throbbed for release, but it went ignored, and pulsed. Her toes were curling and her back was arching up off the bed, seeking out more contact from her dominate. 

“I got you baby,’ he groaned. His own body shuddered. “Let me fuck this pussy like it deserves to be.” 

Nami made the mistake of looking at Terry. He was staring right at her. His eyes had darkened. His brows were knitted together and when his tongue darted out to lick his thick lips, Nami whined. She could feel his hands on her body; slapping her thigh, 

“Soggy ass pussy,’ he spoke, his thumb reached between their bodies and rubbed her neglected clit. “I wish you could see how sloppy this shit looks,’ he laughed. “Fuck, Nami.” 

Terry was stroking something deep inside of her. He reached places no one had prior. He fucked her towards another orgasm, but this one felt uncontrolled. She scrunched her nose, thumbs pressing into the link on her cuffs, and he hips fell back to the bed. New sounds of pleasure fell from her lips. High pitched squeals as he snapped his hips over and over between her legs. Stuffing her with his fat dick to the point she could feel the recoil in her thighs.  Speaking of, her thighs fell to the bed, fully opening herself to Terry and his hands. 

“That’s it baby,’ he praised, ‘give Daddy his pussy.” 

He used his hands to rub her sides, massaging her into relaxing. She stopped tugging on her cuffs and her arms slackened. Nami’s breath shuddered with each thrust between her legs, her pussy was stuffed full and she felt like she was feeling him in her stomach. The depths he reached mad her lift her hips for more. 

“Be Daddy’s little doll,’ he whispered.

“Doll?” Her voice trembled and her bottom lip quivered. “I…..doll?” 

She could barely form words, eyes crossed now that he could finally see them. As tight as her pussy was around his dick, that wasn’t the only thing turning him on. Her lack of speech made his ego puff up just a little. He warned her of his plans to fuck her and now that he was inside of her he didn’t want to leave. He enjoyed the other physical and mental effects of sex just as much as the actual act of sex. 

“Yeah,’ he replied, his voice even as he stroked himself with her cunt. 

Each slide back in Nami could feel the thick tip of his dick slide against her spot. Every. Time. he hit it directly and she saw stars. Her vision became a little spotty from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving her. 

“My little ragdoll.” 

Terry’s hands moved up her chest, tugging down on her nipples after rolling them between his fingers. He admired the bruises on her hips from his hands. The dark spots a reminded for her long after he was done. Respectfully he was going to make sure she had as many orgasms as he body could give. Disrespectfully? He was going to dig her pussy out and dick her down. He just needed her to-

“Daddy,’ she weeped, ‘I feel-’

“Let go for me,’ he coaches, kissing her quickly to ground her for a moment. Aware of her body, Terry wrapped a hand around her throat and applied just enough pressure she could focus on him. “Let it happen okay?” He says. “You’re slipping into sub space.” He noted, more to himself than her. “Let me take you there, Nami.” 

His voice sounded like whispers to her. She hadn’t realized her eyes were closed until she opened them and he was watching her face. His expression was soft and a stark contrast to the roughness of his dick fucking her. She couldn’t hear her moans any more and her body started to float. Her thighs rose on their own, needing a little friction but it was pushed back to the bed. 

A fucking faucet.

Dripping so fucking much.

Wet. Ass. Pussy! 

His stamina was insane and Nami’s body was his outlet. That same body betrayed her. She felt like she was in a dream state. In a trance. She thought she was tugging on her restraints, but Terry had already unhooked it and her arms were laying above her head. She knew to keep them there but with the euphoric feeling course through her body she had no strength to move them anyway. 

She felt like mush in hands. Pliant, Terry grabbed her neck again. 

“Feels good,’ he asked. He knew getting her to talk in this state would be hard, he could see the pleasure in her eyes with how slack her mouth was. 

Nami’s mouth dropped open and a trail of drool followed. She could see Terry but wasn’t really seeing him. She could feel him deep and each thrust drove her to the brink. 

“Good,’ she choked out, ‘so big,’ she cried. 

“I know baby,’ he hissed. 

“Give it up, Nami.” He pushed her into the bed with a hand around her neck. “Submit, to Daddy.” 

She couldn’t reach to hold him and the grip on the sheets wasn’t enough to keep Nami from jerking upwards as her climax sacked into her body. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as the arch in her back brought her body upwards so suddenly she gasped; unable to speak anything other than Daddy. She was a river of slick and emotions, her body levitating and grounded at the same time. The feeling was out of body and it was like she was watching herself get fucked. Terry pulled out long enough to roll her to her hands and knees. There was no hesitation as he slid right back into her velvety walls. He held her hips still as he pounded into her from behind. She could feel his balls slapping against her clit with each thrust and as her arms stretched above her head she wanted to reach back and cup his sack in her hands, feel how heavy he was, and stroke him that way towards pleasure. 

“Push back on it,’ he ordered, grabbing a hand full of her hair to yank her head back. “Show me you want it, doll.” 

Mindlessly, Nami pushed her hips back, letting his dick stretch her in the new position. Terry’s breathing began to change. His breaths were shorter, staggered, and he was trying to control them, but couldn’t. He snatched out of her cunt and pulled her to her feet. Weak, Nami fell into him and he popped her on the thighs. 

Terry spun her around and forced her to bend over at the waist. At the perfect height, Nami touched her toes then wrapped her hands around her ankles. His feet kicked her legs apart right before he lined his dick up and slid back in. He moved her back and forth. There was a lack of balance but her trust in his strength to hold her up, kept her from worrying. She could feel her slick sliding down her legs. 

“Fuck,’ Terry shouted. He moved her to the bed and laid her on her stomach at the edge. His hips slammed into her ass, his dick searching for that gummy spot that made her squirt earlier.  

His eyes dropped to the anal plug he fitted into her earlier. He reached down and tapped it, causing it to move up and down. Nami’s hand swung back the new sensation jolting her body forward. Terry grabbed her wrist and folded her arm across her back. 

“You want me in there,’ he taunted, using his other hand to twist the plug. “You want me to fuck this ass too huh?” He kissed between her shoulder blades as his hand pulled the plug halfway out and pushed it back in. “Yeah, you are,’ he cooed. “You’re going to give Daddy all your holes mmhm,’ he joked, smacking her ass as he fucked her. 

This was his show. Terry felt on top, on cloud nine, and euphoric. The high seeping into his body was making him a bit feral. His grip on Nami tightened, his sack seizing up as Nami soaked his dick again. He was on the precipice of an orgasm when his eyes clenched shut. He bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood, as he thrust became shallow and staggered. His rhythm was thrown off as Nami turned her head after lifting up on her arms to glance back at him. Her eyes were closed in pleasure and her mouth was swollen and parted. She looked fucked out while in sub space. She made soft cooing sounds instead of moans, egging him on. 

“Fuck,’ he cursed, realized it was his favorite of the night, ‘it’s coming, shit I’m gonna cum.” He wasn’t wearing a condom and he hadn’t discussed with Nami where he should shoot his load. He wanted to fill her with it and watch it ooze out. So he was going to.

“Daddy’s gonna nut in this pussy,’ he pulled her backwards, grunting as ropes of hot cum painted her cervix and slippery walls. 

Terry held her still white he emptied his sack, smacking her ass in time to the spurts leaving his tip. Stilling, he let her spasm around his dick, squeezing him deeper as she shook. Terry brought her hips up and pushed her shoulders into the bed. Inch by inch, Terry pulled out. When his tip was left he pushed back in once and Nami’s pussy gushed. Over sensitive, she was spent. Her pussy was spent. Clarity was setting and she inhaled suddenly, dropping to the bed as Terry pulled all the way out. He rolled her over and leaned over her. His lips slanted over hers and she sighed into his mouth. 

“You did so good.” He praises her with kisses. Soft and sweet while her soul found its way back into her body. “See what being good for me gets you?” He reached between her legs and plunged two fingers into her pussy, churning them around while using his load as lubricant. “I told you I was going to teach this pussy what to do.” 

He added his thumb and stroked her clit. He was playing with her now, toying with her over sensitive body. He was slowly bringing her down from that intense pleasure. Safely guiding her down so she didn’t hit the sub drop too hard. 

“Talk to me, beautiful,’ he whispers. “What do you need from me?” 

Nami licked her dry lips, panting as she tried to catch her breath. Speaking felt difficult and she cried suddenly from not being able to form words. She felt good. Everything about what she just experienced was perfect. She just couldn’t form the words to tell him that. Terry pulled his fingers out and smacked her pussy a few times. 

“Water,’ she croaked, finding her voice amid her moaning, ‘please.”

Terry kissed her cheek. “There’s my girl,’ he noted, seeing the clarity returning in her eyes. She was looking at him now, not through him earlier. Fully present in her body, she tried to sit up. Terry pushed her gently back to the bed and helped her crawl towards the top. He grabbed the pillows from the floor and made a cocoon for her to curl up in. His cum leaked out her hole, smeared across her thigh as she moved. Wiping a hand down his face, he shook his head. He snatched up his sweats and strode towards her bathroom. 

He ran her bath first and then slipped into her kitchen. He left the door open so the AC could kick on and cool the room. He grabbed a few waters and some fruit for her to snack on. Coming to the side of the bed, he opened one of the water bottles and pulled Nami to sit up. The cold water cools Nami as soon as it hit her tongue. Terry pulled the bottle away as she choked. 

“Slow,’ he murmured. “Take it easy.” 

She ate strawberries from his hands in between kisses. 

“You were well worth the wait,’ he pulls her face in with a hand on her chin. “How do you feel?” 

“Overwhelmed,’ she sighed, the word falling out of her lips blissfully. Though the haze of pleasure was gone, she was still feel the effects of submitting to Terry. High on his attention, she leaned into him, seeking out his mouth for another kiss. 

Terry entertained her, pulling her to his lap, but keeping her hands in one of his behind her back. Nami wiggled against his hand. 

“Let me touch you, Sir,’ she begged, her lips going from his jaw, to behind his ear, then his neck. She worked her hips against his bulge, aftercare becoming a fleeting thought as Nami worked herself back up. 

“How about you go get in the bath? Let me clean you up and order lunch.” 

Terry stood up, Nami in his arms as he carried her to the bathroom. He supported her with one hand, the other keeping her wrists locked. Placing her on her feet, he brought her hands above her head and helped her into the bath. Nami grimaced as a cool sticky substance rolled down her leg. 

“You’re still leaking out of me,’ she lowered herself into the tub. 

“As I should be.” He kissed the top of her head and opened the cabinet under the sink. She had multiple scents and soaps and he settled on a lavender body wash and pine scented lotion. 

Terry bathed her and carried her back to her bed. He remade it while she soaked in the warm water. Drying her off, he motioned for her to lie down. Back against the pillows he knelt on the bed at her feet and began working lotion into her skin. His thumbs pressed into the arches of her foot, drawing out soft groans. Her calves were next, and Terry took his time there, sucking on her toes. He massaged her body, sucking on her skin in random places. He tugged on a shirt and she noticed it wasn’t yellow, but the black one he came over in. 

Yanking back the sheets, he tucked Nami into them. The bedside lamp turning off as he pulled the little string. 

“I’m not tired,’ she yawned, stretching her limbs. 

“Nap. I’ll have lunch when you wake up.” 

She didn’t remember falling asleep or hear when her bedroom door opened up. Now, something was pulling her awake. Terry, kneeling beside the bed, had pulled her to the edge of it and opened her legs, exposing her sore cunt to his greedy mouth. Each swipe of his tongue wetted his lips. His tongue flicked across her clit before it slipped into her hole, fucking her how his dick had earlier. 

“I got a little hungry,’ he admitted. “I knew this pussy would still be swollen so I came to kiss it better.” 

Nami raised up on her arms to watch his tongue work between her legs. He kept her legs open with his heavy hands. His tongue split her lips apart so he could suck her clit into his mouth. Terry tongued her pussy until she was rocking her hips against his face. The anal plug bumped against his chin and he pulled back to glance at it. 

Pulling away from her, Terry stood up and pulled Nami to her feet. She was able to walk now and followed behind him to the kitchen. Next to the glass of water was another bowl of fruit and a plate of salmon and rice. 

“Do you remember submitting to me?” He asked after a few minutes of silence. 

“A little. It was a lot going on,’ she admitted, ‘it just felt good. My body just gave out.” She chewed on the end of her fork. “Being used like that felt really good.” 

“It’s called sub space. Where your body just feels intensely good yes and you can't put it into words?” 

Nami nodded. 

“Being able to fuck you senseless like that,’ he whistled. “Nami, I’m ready to be back in that pussy. Finish eating so we can play again.” 

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Part two on 11.24.24

I apologize for the errors. As I re-read I will clean it up. I've been staring at this part for two weeks.