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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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BODY AND SOUL Part 24 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I suspected the Gala would be at least two parts, and I was right--this is ostensibly the first half of it, 25 will be the second half. I don’t think it’ll go longer than that, but who knows, I never know until I sit down and write the chapter. Here are some higher quality pics of Kenzie’s dress. Her hair looks like this, but with tiny dark red rose buds rather than those little white flowers in it. Her makeup is similar to this look for Billie’s Bello magazine shoot, but her lipstick is like mine here. Here are her shoes. Kenzie is beginning to be able to see herself the way other people do--as something truly divine, her “Supremeness”, as it were--but she has no ego in those moments. The perception is an accurate one. The album Duncan puts on is Prince’s self-titled, the first track is I WANNA BE YOUR LOVER. Duncan’s hair in this part is similar to Cody’s hair here, which is more or less always how Duncan’s hair looks, just particularly well-coiffed on this night, I guess. His makeup is like Cody’s here. With Hannah and Georgio, I wanted to juxtapose the different reactions Duckenzie invoke in people--for some they are divinely inspiring, and for others with darker auras, they invoke carnal lust. Hannah’s jumpsuit looks like this, her hair like this. I based her vaguely on my friend Aly, who has a very dusty sunset aura to me and a beautiful soul. Here’s Annette’s Gala dress. Her hair looks like this. The necklace she gives Kenzie is vintage Cartier, and it looks like this. A special shout out to Luna (@misslunarayne/@officialcodysfallenangels) who inspired Anchaly reading Hawthorne’s THE NEW ADAM AND EVE; she’s the one who told me about the Millory parallels in that book. Momby’s dress, her rose pin, her scarf. Here’s Jimi Hendrix’s PURPLE HAZE (he and I have the same birthday, November 27th). STOP AND BE FRIENDLY is a reference to CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, one of my favorite films (so I made it one of Kenzie’s favorites, too). I couldn’t find a logo for Shepherd Unlimited, and have no idea if the HOUSE OF CARDS showrunners ever created one, so I made one up. Here’s Gretchen Friedrichs’ absolute monstrosity of a dress. Sissy Conners’ dress looks like this. The “very famous actor” can be whoever you want it to be--I dunno, Colin Firth or Ryan Gosling or somebody. Here are the Pre-Raphaelite works I reference in this part: VENUS VERTICORDIA, VANITY, THE FIELD OF THE SLAIN, THE GOLDEN STAIRS, OPHELIA. Here are the angels from Waterhouse’s ST. CECELIA who remind Kenzie of Lindy and Gabby. To me, Lindy and Gabby represent the Millory fans; the lovely people I’ve met online who ship Michael x Mallory, without whom I would not have been inspired to write this story. The Millory fans are by and large extremely beautiful souls who have touched my heart immensely--in most cases, young women (many of you bi/pan, like me) who want to believe in love and redemption and beauty, and my fic, in many ways, is for young (and young at heart) women and nonbinary people who want these things in their lives. I still believe in the healing, transcendent power of love, despite all the terrible things in this world, and I ALWAYS will, and this is and will continue to be an unabashed love story. Here’s Marissa Montague’s dress. Her hair is like Emma’s here. She was fun to write. My Marissa is a very superficial, sad person, and Kenzie sees through her right away. The Ducatis are a wealthy family I made up who Duncan used to hang out with when he was younger, partying all the time with superficial socialites like Marissa. I wanted to note that Duncan did go through a phase where he was doing coke all the time and sleeping around, because he is indeed a spoiled rich boy in some ways, and he wasn’t always a great person. Kenzie has given him purpose and an active desire to be better, because love always inspires one to be better. Kenzie is waking to powers she didn’t know she had as she and Duncan get closer to learning about their true natures. If anyone would like to make a Gala moodboard/edit for this part of the story, I’d be OVERJOYED. And as ever, if you’re reading along, your comments, likes, reblogs, asks and edits mean everything to me. Please take a second to like the fic if you’re reading, thank you!

Kenzie broke their kiss reluctantly, her head cloudy with the scent of him (the woods of you, your ache for me, I feel the wildness of your high desire for me, baby, impatient for later), aware of Claire and Morgan’s eyes on them in the bright studio. Duncan made a soft sound as she pulled away from him, one of regret at her absence--his lips came up to her temple, his hands pulling her into him; those hands on the silky gold of her dress made her heart drop down to float in her stomach, spread warm tendrils to her sex. She could feel his thoughts still, aching against her.

Kenzie. My beloved. Everyone will bow to you tonight. But I swear I am your most devoted. And I swear I will worship you best.

“Wow, it got really hot in here,” Claire murmured, fluttering her hand against her cheek, breathing out in a long stream. “Fuck, you two look amazing. Wait until they do her hair and makeup, Duncan. They’ll want to hang pictures of her in the MOMA.”

“Clairebear, stoppit.”

“I am not fucking joking around, Kenzie Lou. You two look like a drawing in a mythology book. Like a fairy tale.” Kenzie could see the tears glittering around the edges of Claire’s eyes; her friend looked away, clearly overwhelmed in her emotions.

“My darlings,” Morgan said, coming up to them, reaching for their hands. Kenzie took one, Duncan the other, his arm still dipped around her waist, trailing up and down the softness of the gold there, against the waves of her hair. “Likes Hades and his bright queen Persephone.”

“They really are like that,” Kenzie heard Claire say as Morgan moved toward her assistant, agreeing delightedly, grasping Claire’s hand now. She felt her cheeks flush.

“That’s how I always think of her,” Kenzie heard Duncan say to Morgan. “Surrounded by flowers, bringing spring. Healing me.” Kenzie’s heart twinged. Everyone can see it. How he’s been healed. And I supposed it has been because of me in some ways. But I know he had it in him, in his dear heart, all along. And despite what he knows about Annette now, he’ll defy that too. He’ll transcend whatever was holding him back. Duncan had turned his head back down to her, and his hands tightened on her, the gold bracelet brushing along her bare shoulder blade.

I will, baby. With you here, I can do anything. As long as you’re here I know nothing can really hurt me. My constant moon. My flower of the universe. She was nodding, overwhelmed in the weight of his touch, his hand drifting to cradle her head at the nape of her neck.

“Erik’s going to be bringing the stylists to the penthouse soon,” he said down to her, his eyes intensely bright on her (so blue so blue blue like the blessed daylight, blue like sapphire), his thoughts bursts of brilliant desire, like tiny electric shocks cascading over her. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you--��

“I’m losing my mind over you--” Kenzie gripped at the velvet lapels of his gold-kissed jacket, lifting her hand up to the soft waves of his hair, the diamond and gold at her wrist reminding her again of her daydreams of the circlet of a crown around his head. Duncan. You worship me but my love, I worship you also. I am moved, body and soul, by you. Prince of stars.

The gold is your hands on me, he whispered into the corners of her mind. How it feels to be touched by you. How it feels to be looked at by you. How it feels to be loved by you. The gold is you and tonight everything is for you, and everyone will see you and know.

“Duncan, look at her shoes,” Claire was coming over to them, having found some semblance of composure, carefully holding Kenzie’s elbow as she leaned to the hem of the cascading gold dress, lifting it so Kenzie’s feet were exposed--her shoes were shimmering gold platform sandals with ribbons that wrapped around her ankles, tying at the back.

“They remind me of the shoes she was wearing the night we met,” Duncan was saying to Claire, his hand trailing down Kenzie’s arm, sending a shiver down her back. “I remember I looked at her feet and I thought oh, she ties her shoes in double knots, like I do. And in that moment, I was a goner.”

“Everything you ever wanted,” Kenzie grinned at him. “A girl who ties her shoes like you.”

“She looked like a fucking angel, Claire. You look like a fucking goddess right now, Kenzie. Like a queen. I love you.” Duncan was pressing against her again, his mouth on her cheek, his hands falling down the dress, and Kenzie’s heart was in her mouth, the shape and scent of him the only thing, the greatest of all things, the center of her soul intoxicated in him.

“He ain’t kidding, Kenz. I can’t wait to see BPF tomorrow, honestly. That website is becoming one of my favorite pastimes nowadays, they’re as obsessed with my best friend as I am.” Claire’s eyes had tears in them again, and Kenzie felt her own eyes go misty.

“I fucking love you, Clairebear. Thank you for everything. I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am about you and Harris.”

When Claire had been helping Kenzie dress in the side-room, her friend had told her how shyly and sweetly Harris had called her after Kenzie had passed along her phone number; how he’d asked her if she’d be open to “stepping out” with him, and had told her that he’d been immediately moved by how lovely she was. “I know he’s like ten years older than me, but I feel like--” Claire had blushed deeply, and Kenzie had clutched her hands (oh Claire, I love you and your sweet spirit so much)--”I just--Kenzie Lou, I just feel like he has a lovely soul. I feel like he’s been mostly happy--like me--for a long time, but also lonely, like me, for a long time--” Tears had welled up in Claire’s eyes, and half-dressed, Kenzie had clutched her, burying her face in Claire’s flowery shoulder (she always smells like sunlight on grass and fresh lavender to me), knowing what Claire had meant, knowing Claire didn’t need to say anything else. To have someone to understand you, someone who can truly hold you in the hollow of their heart. I know, Clairebear. More than a friend. A lover. She had pushed a wave of gold into Claire--Claire had quieted and gone back to helping with her dress, wrapping the train carefully over Kenzie’s shoulder, straightening its cascade over her shoulder blade, pulling her hair free from where it’d tucked under the bodice and pulling her fingers through the waves. “Princess Kenzie,” she had whispered, and it had struck a long chord through Kenzie’s heart, reminded her of Duncan--Princess, moon princess, my little moonbeam--and the worship of his words and his lips and his hands in the darkness in their bed, and Kenzie had shivered to behold the way she seemed to transform in the gown, the way the woman who had stared at her in the slender mirror of the dressing room truly began to seem like a princess--like some golden queen, some other Kenzie who fears nothing. And so I will resolve to be her tonight. I will be fearless, regal, that Kenzie who is a queen, Persephone on her throne in the Underworld. I will pretend I’m her tonight, and hold my head high. Duncan told me I belong in this world--and I think I do, because I belong where he is. So I’ll pretend I’m not afraid. I’ll be the one who protects him tonight, because his heart has been wounded and his spirit needs me.

Even looking at him in the splendor of the gold-dipped blazer and the regal gold collar, she could still see the pain behind his gaze, the melancholy ache of yesterday still lingering around his mouth. My Hades, trapped in the Underworld. You felt lost; you still do. Even in the certainty of our love, you are questioning who you are. But together we’re going to find out. We’re going to find the secrets of ourselves together. Duncan was thanking Morgan, kissing her gloved hand, making Morgan laugh with delight--Kenzie’s heart pounded fiercely as she watched him, the fall of his hair, his height, the brightness of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, his angelic beauty, compounded by the elegant clothes. Beloved. Tonight we’ll show everyone how bright we shine together--tomorrow, we’ll retreat into the woods, to whisper our love into each other without needing to speak, to hide and heal in each other’s embrace, and gaze at the stars, and find each other’s secret places. To find the secrets that are so close to us, that we cannot see but have begun to feel, to sense in each other. They are so near. They are the shadow that stands beside us, and soon we’ll be able to see them, Duncan, baby.

He was looking over at her, and she saw in his eyes the recognition of her thoughts. I feel them too. Like they are waiting just around the corner for us. Like we’re seeing them in the mirror today, not ourselves. The echo of them.

They left Morgan’s studio with their hands grasped tightly together, Kenzie’s train carefully draped over Duncan’s arm as he led her down the stairs, easily supporting her petite frame as she blushed down at her feet, trying not to fall in the golden heels, trying not to fall into him the way she was longing to, dying to, remembering the way she’d pushed him into the wall in the stairwell that first night, impossibly hungry for him, the most beautiful boy I have ever fucking seen, and now, somehow, ever more beautiful, almost impossibly so. She could feel the tiny tremors under her skin, the dancing bursts of nervousness, the nerves borne of how lovely he was right now, how staggeringly beautiful to look at. We’ve fucked like crazy, we live together, and god, I still feel so fucking shy of you right now.

“Baby, are you kidding,” he whispered against her as she hovered on the stair above him, leaning his mouth up into her chin, hands falling back and forth over the golden cascade that covered her body. “You’re shy of me? I’m so fucking nervous right now--you’re so fucking beautiful and I can’t even think straight. You can’t possibly be mine. I can’t possibly deserve you. You’re a fucking angel.”

And he was pressing her against the wall of the stairwell now, ever so gently, the chilly cement of it against the bareness of her shoulders above the lame of the dress, her train still tucked into the crook of his elbow, and his mouth down at her collarbone, keeping her tethered to him, his lips drifting to her neck and below her ear, his breath whispering there, his eyelashes brushing the tiny space at the corner of her eye, tasting at her, murmuring further and further into her mind with taut insistence as his hands trembled and shivered down her arms, I can’t wait to get home so you can push that ring onto my cock, can’t wait to push that plug inside you while we stare into each other in the eyes of the Mirror that’s drifting into our dreams now, can’t wait to keep you close to me all night, anticipating the moment where we’re truly alone, can’t wait for everyone to behold you and the thrill of the secret knowledge that despite their longing you are mine alone, and that you chose me among all, that you blessed me, beloved, most fair among all, as your lover, I can’t wait to be so close to you again that we don’t know where part from each other, so close the sweat on our skin mingles on our skin flushed against each other, so close I can feel the clutch of your cunt gripping onto me, claiming me, fucking me, devouring me, can’t wait for you to fuck me, angel--and the insistence of his mouth under her hair was pushing her eyes to the metal underside of the staircase above, her mouth falling open in a gasp of absolute need that drive sharp knives of longing through her whole body.

Fuck, Duncan, I want you so much, I want you all to myself, Prince Duncan, I want your need to be the only thing you can think of, your need for me, I’m the golden gift just for you, the Pandora’s box full not of darkness, but exquisite loveliness, all for you, but you have to be patient today, Erik and the stylists are waiting for us, everyone is waiting for us tonight, waiting to see you, beautiful exalted Prince--

No, they’re waiting for YOU, my golden Persephone, it’s your golden beauty they are waiting for--his mouth was hovering over hers, not touching it, not quite, but begging to, sweetly open, aching to take hers, tilting his head, impossibly blue eyes rising and falling down the curve of her face, the gold waterfall of her dress--

“Let’s go, baby,” she gasped, gently pushing his arms away from her, gently turning from his mouth despite the soft, imploring sounds he made, his curls and the bridge of his nose brushing against her cheek. I can’t hold out when you’re touching me that way, I can’t stand it, Dunny, you have to stop, I can’t, I want you so much--

She grasped his hand as he stepped back on shaking feet, the gold of their bracelets clinking together softly, and he carefully gripped the train as she stepped ahead of him, down the last flight of stairs to the palm-lined foyer of Morgan’s studio building, and they were out in the oppressive, flushed heat of the day, but it felt good on Kenzie’s skin, it was a relief to be enveloped in the heat that was coursing through her body already. The world has been set on fire with our love, she thought, looking up at Duncan as he came through the door beside her, towards where Samuel was parked on the corner. He dipped his head to her, his mouth set to stave off his longing, and he was pushing his Yves sunglasses over his (ethereal blue like the heavens) eyes, but before he did she could see the patterned geometry of his soul there, which saw hers utterly, and wanted her, utterly, loved her, entirely. The world has turned, changed for us, become ours, and now it sees us, and it bows and encircles us in its desire, its heat is its kisses of worship on our skin, and it knows who we are. Soulmates.

---------

Samuel was looking at them with moon-bright eyes as Duncan helped Kenzie into the deeply cool interior of the car, and Kenzie smiled back at him shyly as he turned the stereo dial up--with a thrill she realized it was Jimi Hendrix, and his wild guitar crashed against her. Summer music.

Purple haze all in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same, actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky...

“My dear Duncan and Mackenzie,” he said, foot on the gas, “you look like you stepped down from heaven a moment ago, off a falling star.”

“I feel like I’m in heaven, Samuel,” Kenzie replied, as Duncan’s hand slipped into hers. “I can’t come down, and I don’t want to.”

“You know it’s the full moon tonight,” Duncan’s chauffeur said, slipping dark sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the sunlight that streamed through the window. “The juju that comes on nights such as these is quite special. It’s fortuitous that the Gala is on such a night--tonight will be the night the world will see the true brightness of your love.”

Kenzie puzzled for a moment over Samuel’s words--what does that mean? She looked up at Duncan, who seemed to be openly staring at her behind his dark sunglasses, his lips parted, his hand dry and warm, his thumb drifting over her palm. She lifted a finger to pull them down at the rim, exposing his eyes to her--yep, staring. Blue like the clear shore of a bright ocean.

“What does that mean?” She mouthed to him, smiling at him, her cheeks flushed. Oddly, Samuel lifted the partition after that, somehow content not to explain himself further.

Duncan shrugged, and his fingers tightened in hers. He shook his head. Baby, I don’t know. But I have a strange feeling about tonight. I had a strange feeling about yesterday, too--I know you felt that. But today doesn’t have that mean feeling like yesterday, does it? It has some other kind of feeling. It’s heavy, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s like--a giant wheel turning. Like a huge clock tower chiming the hour. Like lifting your face to the sun after you’ve been indoors for a long time.

Yeah. Like that, she thought, nodding, her other hand drifting against his thigh, and then she spoke, in the cocoon of their privacy. “Duncan...I feel like I swallowed the sun and every bit of light is shooting from my eyes and my mouth and the tips of my hair and everyone it touches, they feel it too, they feel bright and healed. I feel like it’s my destiny to do that--touch people with the sunlight I can feel inside me.”

“You always make me feel that way. Like nothing bad can happen to me when you’re here. Like you’re the sun in the day and the moon at night, and you bring light where there would be darkness without you. Kenzie,” and he pressed his hand into her waist, his eyes fluttering at the softness of the gown, his breath gasping. “God, I want to just run away with you.”

“Away from everyone and everything to a secret place where no one can find us,” she whispered against him. Kenzie’s body felt flushed with overwhelming heat despite the coolness of the car. “Soon, baby, soon, we’ll eat fruit under the trees and swim in the lake and fuck so fucking much--” and she drifted her hand against his throat, thumb on the fullness of his lips, pulling him down against her, Duncan pulling his glasses off and dropping them unceremoniously on the car’s floor, gathering her in his arms, his mouth flushing into hers with her fingers still pressed under his jaw, tightening to hold him steady against her, and he whispered into her mouth, “baby, fuck, Kenzie--” and she could feel the rapid, frenzied drifting of his mind, the Bacchanalian chaotic need that was building in the center of him. To love you is holy madness, Mackenzie Stone. I fucking worship you. His mouth was in her hair, his fingers pulling it to his nose to breathe in the scent of her, and his expression was one of angelic beauty, an aching supplication to her, his finely chiseled features, his long straight nose, his full lips, his sharp jaw utterly divine in the purity of his love. It took her breath away to see him this way--it took her senses and rattled them apart, leaving her feeling spread like the particles of stardust in the night sky.

“Tonight,” she whispered against him, and she made herself look into his eyes, despite the shaking in her own soul, despite her fear of his beauty, because despite our closeness, my love, I still fear how lovely you are, I still fear your devotion because it shakes my fucking soul, and I fear you because your beauty seems impossible, and I see the inhuman in you, I fear the loss of you, for I’d die without you now-- “you’re gonna be aching for me all night, aren’t you, baby, you’re not gonna touch yourself at all, either, are you, baby, even though you’re gonna want to, I know,” and his tongue was pressing out onto her bottom lip, his tiny moans like sweet music in her ears, “you’re gonna want to but you aren’t going to, because only I get to touch you, only I get to take that ring off your poor aching cock, my poor baby--”

Duncan’s hands tightened at the back of her hair, twisting and forcefully pressing so her mouth crashed against his, and the need in it crushing against her heart with a possessive hand. I won’t baby, I won’t, but fuck, I want you now, how can I wait so long. His mouth was like the musky juice of some unearthly fruit. He must be what ambrosia tastes like. Like fucking sex. Like the pinnacle of all my desires. Like the highest part of my hope and the wildest release of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. There’s nothing like it I’ve ever felt anywhere. Him.

Kenzie’s hands were clutched to the gold-kissed lapels of his velvety jacket as they arrived at the penthouse all too soon, her fingers drifting against the intricate cages of the collar tips.

“I feel like you should be wearing a crown,” she whispered to him. Duncan’s hands were coming around to clutch hers at his throat, his mouth kissing at her fingertips.

“I keep imagining flowers in your hair,” he replied. “Flowers would be your crown, my beautiful Kenzie. So many flowers.”

Samuel was lowering the partition and Kenzie moaned against him, her heart crushed that they had so much longer to go before they’d be alone together again. It’s never enough, she thought to him. Whatever time we have alone, it’s never enough, it’s not even close to being enough.

I know baby, I know angel, I know, it’s never enough, kiss me, kiss me-- and they crushed their mouths together again, not caring that Samuel could see them now, his bright-moon gaze skirting over them then politely away, though Kenzie knew that it was difficult for him, knew he thought they were bright as stars, beautiful beyond words, though she couldn’t have said how she knew, only that Samuel’s emotion towards them in this moment was starkly bright, as if he were speaking it out loud, and then Duncan was pulling her out of the car and she felt dazed, dazed as Jerry opened the door for them, his expression one of utter amazement, until Anchaly let out a barking laugh of complete joy towards them that startled her so she clutched at Duncan’s hand, suddenly shy and apprehensive of the small man.

“And the spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters,” Anchaly said, and Kenzie saw Duncan’s puzzled look as they walked past. His eyes were glittering.

“I feel like you speak in riddles sometimes, Anchaly,” Duncan was saying as he pressed the button of the elevator. He had gathered her train up in his hand again, holding it gently over his arm, and Kenzie blushed, suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious, as if she were being led up to an opulent throne where she’d be crowned a queen of some unknown kingdom. She kept looking down to examine the dress, unconvinced it was real, its golden sheen seeping into the corners of her vision.

“Some glories require the words of someone more skilled than I,” Anchaly replied. “You two seem to render me speechless to express my astonishment without some help.”

“Is that from Proverbs, Anchaly? From the Bible?” Kenzie remembered a Moby song that had a similar name to the words Anchaly had spoken.

“Indeed. God creating the waters when he made the world.”

The elevator dinged open.

“You two seem to be creating something, too. The beauty of your love seems to be growing.”

Duncan didn’t reply--he seemed unsure of what to say. Kenzie could see the blush around his eyes.

“Anchaly, Annette’s going to be dropping something off for me soon,” Kenzie called out to him as Duncan pulled her inside. “Please call up to the penthouse when she’s here, will you?”

She saw Anchaly’s nod, the glittering quality of his eyes flashing at her again, and then Duncan was clutching her against him again in the gold interior of the elevator, his fingers achingly delicate on the gold of her dress, and she was lost inside his attentions, lost, and it was everything she could do not to grind against his thigh pressing her into the elevator’s mirror, not to stare in wonder at the loveliness of the picture they cast there, she blushed to be so struck with wonder at her own beauty, blushed to be overcome so often by the rightness of how they looked together. We really do look like royalty, like Pilar said. The moment was gone too soon as the elevator seemed to climb 30 stories in no time at all, and Duncan gently pulled away from her, grasping the train and urging her out as she giggled at him, dragging her softly to the penthouse door, through with they could already hear the voices of Erik and the stylists inside. Rather than using his keycard Duncan knocked twice, lazily, on the door, then in a moment of abandon, grabbed hold of her waist and lifted her up into his mouth again, the taste of him dizzying her wildly, the half-hardness of his crotch pressing into her stomach. Then he was hurriedly bringing her back to earth, grinning at her as the door swung open and they broke apart to Erik’s judging gaze, his mouth pursed at them in their breathless state, his expression one of hidden delight masked by facetious scandal.

“Heeeeeeaven, I’m in heaven,” he sang, fluttering his eyelashes--they were very long with pink rhinestones today. “Just look at you two. As soon as you mentioned Morgan I knew she’d do both of you justice, Mackenzie. I can already see the headlines tomorrow: ‘DUCKENZIE STUNS IN GOLD, WE ALL HAVE TO WIPE OURSELVES OFF THE FLOOR’. Duncan, I brought Hannah and Georgio today. You remember them--they did you for the App release party. They’re going to lose their shit over her.” He extended his hand, beckoning to them languidly, moving back inside the penthouse, the long black cashmere poncho he wore drifting behind him. Duncan’s warm, large hand was on the skin just above the back of the dress, and Kenzie stepped away from his touch, feeling too overwhelmed by it to let it continue for now--I want you terribly, my love. I want you alone.

In the kitchen there was an array of picturesque snacks from the always well-stocked silver fridge and cupboards spread out; round rice crackers and two bricks of artisan swiss and gouda, salami rolled around tiny toothpicks, cubed mango, sliced green apple, bunches of grapes, organic hummus and pesto, bite-sized chopped purple cauliflower and celery sticks, and multiple open bottles of wine.

“We had to get the party started the right way, of course,” Erik simpered to Duncan, and Duncan smiled at him (that smile, kiss me, baby), unbothered, then at the two people seated at the obsidian island with recognition. Kenzie suddenly felt wildly shy again, fighting the urge to hide behind him, but he was pushing bright, warm blue feelings against her, circling her heart. “Hey, Hannah.” Hannah had very long, vaguely wavy hair that was a sort of lavender-grey, the kind of color that could only be achieved by a master hairstylist, one that usually only existed in superhero comics, and chopped bangs. She was ambiguously aged, perhaps in her early 30’s, with bright pink eyeshadow and an expertly contoured, round face. She wore a very long boho bronze-red jumpsuit with curling indigo detailing, and an array of long necklaces with varying crystals. Her skin was the color of milky coffee. The man beside her had long chocolatey hair streaked with natural gray, tied back into a bun at the back of his head, sharp, dark eyes, and an beard that was so well-cropped it seemed almost fake. He had silver rings on his fingers in the shapes of animal skulls, and wore a black denim jacket and black skinny jeans on his very thin frame. He had been talking to the woman in a very quiet, even voice, but she had begun to laugh loudly at something he said. “Hi Georgio, lovely to see you both again. This is Mackenzie Stone.”

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe Duckenzie are finally here!” The woman called Hannah immediately stopped laughing, dropping the morsel of gouda she’d been clutching in long coral-colored fingernails. Kenzie gawked at her. God, the Duckenzie thing is a trip. The woman got up from Duncan’s island and came around to her, her hands flitting down to Kenzie’s shoulders--she was at least six inches taller, and in bare feet. She smells really nice, like patchouli incense.

“God, you’re a little jewel,” and Hannah was pulling her into a hug, much to Kenzie’s surprise. “You smell like a rose bush. It’s obscene.”

“Hannah, I fucking told you,” Erik said. “Imagine the possibilities. An absolute babydoll.”

“Georgio,” the other man came up to her, grasping her fingers, leaning over them. “A pleasure to finally meet you in person, dear.” His voice remained very quiet and very even, removed from Hannah’s immediate enthusiasm.

“I do hair, Georgio does makeup,” Hannah was saying down to her. “This dress, Jesus fucking Christ, you’re like a Klimt painting, and Duncan, god, you always look incredible but this is next-level, nobody will be able to talk about anything else tomorrow, fuck, Georgio, we have to really outdo ourselves with this one.”

“I fucking agree.” Georgio was looking between Duncan and Kenzie with a hungry glint in his eye, as though he were a vulture about to swoop down onto a carcass. Kenzie shivered a little--I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way some people look at us when we’re together, she thought. It’s as though some people want to leave us candles and fruit and gold coins on an altar, and other people want to somehow consume us--rip out our hearts and gnaw on them with their teeth. Hannah is one of the former. This man Georgio is one of the latter. She watched his hungry, dark eyes float up and down on Duncan, and she was made conscious again, removed from her lover’s touch for the moment, of how incredibly beautiful Duncan was, how singularly, objectively handsome.

Back off honey, he’s mine. Kenzie couldn’t help it, she snorted into her hand suddenly at the force of her thought, the certainty of it, and Hannah looked down at her, puzzled.

“I was just thinking about how crazy all of this has been,” Kenzie murmured.

“I bet, honey. Your Instagrams are like the only thing anyone talks about anymore. You must have gotten like, a hundred endorsement offers by now.”

Duncan shrugged at her. “I don’t think we’ll be doing stuff like that, Hannah. Kenzie’s a writer.”

“I forgot, you’re a fucking billionaire,” Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “No pressing need to make more money.” I like this woman, Kenzie thought. We can be friends. “Little golden peach, come sit with me, I’m wild to start on you.” Hannah led Kenzie to the living room, where they’d set up two styling chairs with portable standing mirrors.

“Dunny, bring me some of those grapes, please? I’m fucking starving.” Kenzie called across to him. Duncan was watching her with a dazed expression, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Georgio continued watching him with the same hungry eyes. Duncan went to the island as Erik said something to him that Kenzie couldn’t hear--she was turning back to Hannah, who already had two flat pastel-colored styling clips in her fingers. Kenzie sat, looking up at the woman, angling her chin up.

“What do you think your hair should look like tonight, baby doll?”

Kenzie smiled at her. I really like her.

“Sometimes he calls me Persephone,” she said to Hannah in a low voice, as if she were telling the gray-haired woman a secret. Hannah was leaning down to her, listening eagerly. The woman seemed to have an almost rosy aura around her, like the pink blush of a desert sunrise.

“Goddess of spring,” Hannah nodded. “Which would make him Hades, God of the Underworld. That seems right to me. And you brought your flowers down to him in the darkness, didn’t you, sweetness.” Hannah’s hand brushed through the wave of hair that fell over Kenzie’s shoulder. “I think we should put flowers in your hair. And then everyone will see who you really are. Not just your gold, but the way love is blooming all around you.”

Duncan was coming over to them with a bunch of grapes and some of the cheese and round crackers on a little plate and one of his Waterford glasses full of a dry rose, leaning the plate down to Kenzie’s lap, dipping his face to kiss her (thanks baby, she whispered into his mind) as he handed her the wine, then he straightened and said “I’m putting on some music for us, any requests?”

“Something sexy,” Erik said, holding up his wine glass, full of dark red. “I need some mood music to look at you two.”

Duncan smirked at him and turned away, into his study.

“Hannah, have you seen The Youth of Bacchus?” Kenzie spoke to the woman from a mouth of grapes. “It’s in Duncan’s study there, it’s so amazing, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I just wanted to die the first time I saw it.”

“I saw it the last time I was here, we styled Duncan for an event a few months ago,” Hannah had already busily begun to slide clips into Kenzie’s long tawny hair, clearly used to working around people eating. “It’s really extraordinary. I can’t imagine how crazy everything has been for you lately, honey.”

“It’s--” Hannah was dividing her hair into segments now with a thin comb, turning to a set of portable drawers near the standing mirror. “It’s been so surreal, honestly. It feels like I’ve been walking around in a dream for the past few weeks. But most people have been so lovely.”

“I bet Annette’s a fucking handful.” Kenzie heard a funky electronic beat come over the hidden speakers as Hannah’s quick hands worked at her hair, spraying primer through it, brushing it out. I ain’t got no money, I’m not like those other guys you hang around, it’s kinda funny, but they always seem to let you down…

“Yes.” Kenzie didn’t even try to hide her frustration. “Yes, she fucking is.”

Hannah snorted, grinning at her as Duncan reemerged from the study.

“Yes, honey, yes indeed,” Erik was saying to him as Duncan sat in the other styling chair beside Kenzie, Georgio immediately attacking his stubbled cheeks with moisturizer, then primer. “Prince’s self-titled is his most underrated creation, I do believe. Pure sex from beginning to end.”

“Erik, I hope this isn’t too great for a favor for someone as important as you, but could you bring me the wine glass I left over there?” Duncan glanced up at Erik with a long, languid gaze, and Kenzie giggled. Laying it on thick, baby. I like to watch you do that, she realized. Because I know you’re always mine now, and all they can do is pine after you.

Erik gave him a pleased look and brought the wine to him. “Anything for Prince Duncan,” he cooed. I feel the same way, and Kenzie’s thought flashed to his eyes staring at her in the MIrror as he fucked her, her arms tied in velvet ribbon, flashed to his mouth between her legs with her arms tied to the headboard with his belt, to her back against the cherrywood table as he kneeled to her, her body arching into his elegant, strong fingers in the dark, the white-blue glow of his eyes. Anything for you, beloved. Anything.

“I’m gonna need fresh rosebuds for Kenzie’s hair, Duncan,” Hannah said, glancing at him.

Duncan made a little sound of longing in the back of his throat that made Kenzie’s stomach flip. Oh my fucking god, baby, I’ll get you roses to wear in your hair every day. And your peonies are starting to wilt, too. Kenzie glanced at the coffee table, noticing with a twinge of sadness that he was right. Prince wailed over their heads as Duncan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent a few quick text messages to Anchaly for the concierge. “Hannah, what do you need?” I wanna be your lover, I wanna be the only one that makes you come, running...Georgio’s hand was on his cheek as though it were made of delicate glass, holding Duncan’s head steady as he worked around his blue eyes with a tiny eyeshadow brush.

Hannah reached for his phone with an insistent hand and typed out a text, handing it back to him. “As young as they have would be best. And the darkest red. Fit for a queen.”

“Roses for Kenzie’s hair, roses for Kenzie, check.” Duncan glanced over at her, his eyes (the sky of you, the storm of you building for me) falling from hers down her gown, then back up. His tongue slowly came out to lick against his top lip, and the gesture seemed to be involuntary, so open to her, so desirous of her, as he sometimes was in the sanctity of their bed. Our bed, our room, my favorite place on earth now when you’re there, she could hear him, knew his thoughts drifted into the same place hers did, needy with the weight of their nights.

“Georgio, did you hear what Mackenzie told me a minute ago? Duncan calls her Persephone sometimes. Hence the roses.”

“Way ahead of you, Hannah,” Georgio said, then, “Close your eyes, please, Duncan,” and Kenzie watched him swirl the brush in a palette behind him, then begin to darken Duncan’s eyelids to deep black. My Hades. Gold in the darkness. It’s not just me, baby. It’s us together. My gold kisses your darkness, your darkness holds my gold. One without the other is not enough. One without the other is not whole.

“God, I love it,” Hannah was murmuring as she began to whirl Kenzie’s hair around a ceramic curling iron, from its soft natural waves into more carefully constructed ones. She began to switch between curling strands of Kenzie’s chestnut-blonde hair and weaving a very loose french braid down Kenzie’s back, until her hair seemed to be a very intricate web of falling braids and artfully arranged loose waves, though Kenzie couldn’t see it from the back yet. Duncan’s already luminously handsome face was now darkly striking in the shadow around his eyes, the gold of the jacket juxtaposing with the black and the blue of his corneas to an effect that took Kenzie’s breath away. God of riches, shadows, and my heart.

“God, baby, you look so good. So fucking good.”

“I agree,” Hannah was grinning between them, still fussing over Kenzie’s hair. At the back she’d created a slight bump and long waves fell around Kenzie’s face. The doorbell chimed through the penthouse and Erik went to the door from where he’d been lazily eating apple slices and downing glass after glass of wine. A delivery man stood there with a long white box--Erik took it from him and brought it over to the low leather couch, lifting the lid. Within were a dozen sprigs of burgundy-dark rose buds, and a bouquet of a two-dozen full-stem roses in the same color.

“Oh sugar, I wish a billionaire who looks like an angel would buy me flowers every day,” Erik said longingly.

“Gimme, please,” Kenzie begged, reaching her arms out. Erik brought them to her from where Hannah was holding her captive, and Kenzie lifted the bouquet to her face in their softness, feeling tears welling up. “Dunny, I love them so much.” Duncan was smiling at her with a dreamy expression around his darkly shadowed eyes. We’ll take them with us to the cabin. We’ll put them beside our bed. I love you, Kenzie.

I love you, too, Duncan. I’ll save so many wildflowers while we’re there to hang over our bed here. We’ll bring the roses with us, and bring the forest back with us, Kenzie’s eyes rested in his, her hand stretching out to him, almost involuntarily. Duncan stood and came to her, Georgio having finished his work, leaning against the standing mirror, observing with a sharp, dark gaze. Duncn crouched down beside her chair, bringing his face up to press his nose into the roses she held, then up to her cheek and against her lips, and Kenzie’s body tingled with the softness and sweetness of him, the darkly beautiful dramatic cast of his face in the eyeshadow. He drew back from her, eyes lifting up to the others behind her--neither of them had realized for the beat of the moments that Erik, Hannah and Georgio were all staring at the two of them with observant, rapt expressions, Hannah’s almost pious, Erik’s joyous, Georgio’s openly desirous. The first side of Prince had ended, and the quiet had settled around them.

“God, you two are lovely,” Hannah breathed, breaking the spell. “I could watch you all day. I’ve never seen a couple so beautiful. It’s like you’re communicating without words.”

At that moment the downstairs buzzer beside the penthouse door trilled, making Kenzie jump. We are, Hannah. But no one knows that but us. And we want to keep it that way. It belongs to us. Duncan stepped away from Kenzie, clutching her hand for a moment. I bet that’s Annette, Kenzie thought, biting into her lip. Annette’s text had been strange, a frantic tone underneath her overly-polite request to see Kenzie. Please accept this gift as a token of my blessing, she’d said, and Kenzie had known Annette distress was coming solely from Duncan’s silence to her, but nevertheless, the prospect of actually gaining Annette’s approval by any means was tempting, especially since she’d softened to Kenzie at the Rose Garden. Duncan went to the door, hitting a button below the panel and speaking into it.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Shepherd, Annette is here.”

Duncan looked over at Kenzie, a pained expression immediately falling over his face. Baby, it’s okay, Kenzie thought to him. I’ll go downstairs. I won’t take long. I’m not afraid of her.

“Anchaly, Kenzie’s coming down,” he said, turning back to the speaker. “Do not send up her up.”

“Very well, Mr. Shepherd.” Anchaly’s voice sounded strained.

Kenzie rose, carefully tucking the cascade of the gold train over her arm, setting the roses in her seat gently. “Hannah, Georgio, I won’t be long, this should only take a few minutes.” Be brave, for him, even if you don’t feel it, because Duncan needs you to be. She walked carefully past Erik, who was giving her a dark look, a don’t let her fuck with you look, to Duncan, whose eyes were clouded behind the dark eyeshadow, suddenly lost inside the turmoil of his emotions.

“Baby, look at me,” she whispered to him, reaching for his hands. As she grasped them Kenzie could feel that he was shaking; feel the immediate change in his mood, the dark shadow that had settled on him, the one that had made him cry in her arms yesterday, the one that had sent his sadness out to her over miles. “We’re going to get through tonight, then we’re going to go away together, just me and you. Okay? And you won’t have to see her, okay? Not until you’re ready. Forget about everyone else.” And Kenzie, in that moment, resolved to do the same herself. Forget about them. About the paps, about Annette’s judgement, about the eyes watching us now, and anyone else who will try to hurt us tonight. When I have you, I’m fearless, invincible, you are my armor of blue flames, I am your armor of weightless gold. And they can’t hurt us.

Duncan brought his mouth down to her, and his lips trembled too, though with the tumult of his emotions or his desire she couldn’t decipher, so jumbled were the two strains of feeling in him. Kenzie gently brought her hand up to his hair and his arms came around her back, lifting her into him, and Kenzie couldn’t help but hear the sighs that came from Erik and Hannah behind her, the sighs that sounded to her like the wings of angels rustling in some holy silent hall, and she soothed him with paper-thin gold, feeling his heart settling down to a steadier rhythm, feeling the trembling in him drift out, into the ether.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and let go of him, staring at him for another moment, seeing the way her energy had calmed him, his eyes bright again amid the gold-and-dark sheen of his shape, and Kenzie snapped the door open and walked, determined, to the elevator.

-------

Annette was standing in the foyer when Kenzie arrived downstairs, her expression strained and softly troubled, the usual anger in her eyes towards Kenzie missing. She was nervously fidgeting with something in her hands--a squarish, flat velvet box.

As Kenzie’s eyes drifted over Duncan’s mother, she was struck by the other woman yet again: Annette’s coppery-dark hair was pulled back in an elegantly distressed bun, a few strands arranged artfully around her slender cheekbones, her naturally beautiful face made more exquisite with soft makeup tones, a roseate sheen on her cheeks and mouth, a pale olive around her eyes, reminding Kenzie of the blossoms and vines of some pink flower in bloom, of a cheek pressed against a garden wall. Annette’s dress was flowing saffron-colored satin, falling to the ground and shrouding her feet, long sleeves to her wrists (she was wearing one ring, a gold band on her left index finger with a round, yellow-colored topaz stone), a deep V exposing the dip between her small breasts, a string of tiny, perfectly-shaped (and likely priceless) iridescent pearls around her slender throat. As Kenzie stepped closer she could see there were small golden flowers falling throughout the dress, like bursts of pollen reflected in a sunrise. Annette turned her head down for a moment, her eyes closing, and Kenzie noticed there were pearls stranded through her hair as well. She is so beautiful. This woman who adopted Duncan so many years ago. Where did she find him? Who did she claim him from? Who is this woman really, this woman who has kept the truth of him from him for his entire life? I can see her loveliness that has been hidden beneath her shadow, like I could see his right away. It took longer to see hers. But I’ve begun to see it. But her shadow is strong. It’s consumed her for many years.

Anchaly had, somehow, blessedly, vacated the front desk, and Jerry was standing outside the glass doors in the balmy summer night, smoking a cigarette, staring down at his phone. There was no one else in the foyer, and no sound except soft classical music pumping from the speakers, the gold-embossed chairs and couch, lush persian rugs and expensive potted plants their only company.

“Annette,” Kenzie said, reaching her, remaining a few steps away. Annette was looking at her with a pained expression now--an expression Kenzie had never seen. Now that she was closer, she could see there were lines under Annette’s eyes, of tiredness and distress. I don’t think she slept at all last night, Kenzie realized. Because of Duncan. Because she knows how devastated he is.

“Oh, Mackenzie.” Kenzie’s nerves shattered as she saw the tears in Annette’s eyes, saw the girl within Duncan’s mother again, and was moved by her. “You...you are so lovely. I--I’m--”

Annette trailed off, raising the box in her hands out to Kenzie. She seemed to steel something within herself for a moment, force her tears back, force them back into the secret place where Annette Shepherd had been storing pain for decades, and her eyes fluttered closed again, then opened to Kenzie’s--Kenzie felt for a moment that she could almost see her own eyes reflected there, see the green and russet and the gold of herself, see how Annette could see her in this moment. Like an effigy of the Holy Mother, Annette was thinking, and it shook Kenzie to the core of her body to know that. But before she was a mother--when she was young and wild, and free, and the most beloved of all in the eyes of God. There is no wonder that he loves her. My Duncan. My darling boy. I’m sorry.

“I found this a few days ago while I was going through some of the remainders of Adelaide’s--my mother’s--possessions,” and Annette now used the voice of her outward self again, even, carefully measured. “I knew when I saw it that it was meant to be yours. I’d be--I’d--if you would accept it, Mackenzie...I’d be grateful.” Annette closed her mouth, as if by the action she could close off the tide of her emotions rising again with it. Kenzie stepped closer, watching Annette’s eyes rove up and down the exquisite gold of her dress, into her eyes, skirting away. She reached her hands out and Duncan’s mother (for she is Duncan’s mother after all--she loves him with her life, and she didn’t tell him because she couldn’t bear the thought that he isn’t hers, because she loves him as strongly as if he is--her love is true and blinding for him) lowered the box carefully into them, and their hands touched, and Kenzie looked up at her again, then opened it.

Within was a circlet band of braided gold, its strands leading down to a matte red ruby surrounded by an oval of almost two dozen tiny, perfect diamonds. On either side of the oval were three gold leaves, each set with two diamonds each. I can’t imagine how much this is worth, Kenzie thought, her breath trapped in her lungs. This must be priceless.

“I--I can’t--” Kenzie struggled to speak. How can I accept this?

“Please, Mackenzie. I’ve been--I know I’ve been--” Annette seemed to be losing the strands of her composure, her hands fidgeting in front of her, clutching at the pearls around her neck. “I know I’ve been terrible to you. I have no right to ask you for anything. But please, Duncan--Duncan won’t speak to me, and I--”

Be the golden goddess Duncan sees in you, Kenzie. Be fearless and kind.

“He needs time.”

Kenzie evened her gaze on Annette; lowered the necklace in its velvet box in her hands, but brought it closer to her body, accepting. She lifted her chin.

“He’s very hurt. Keeping the truth from him for so long--it’s wounded him deeply. And I don’t know how long he’s going to need. But I know he needs time.” Kenzie watched Annette’s face, the subtle shift of the pain there. “After tonight, we’re going away for awhile--maybe a few days, maybe a week. And when we get back, I think he’ll be ready to talk to you. But until then, I don’t think he wants to. I don’t think he can. Annette, I will accept this from you...if you can accept that.”

Annette’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and she seemed on the edge of tears again. She dipped her head, eyes closing again, the lengthening afternoon light spilling across her face--despite everything, Kenzie thought, I love her still.

“Please tell him I’m--how sorry I am. And that I love him. More than anything. More than my own life. And I--I love you also, Mackenzie. I do. I’m sorry to you, too.”

Annette reached out one shaking hand, pressing it gently to the side of Kenzie’s arm, her other hand coming up to hover near Kenzie’s cheek--but that hand continue to hover rather than touch, as if afraid. Then Annette turned without another word, and left the foyer. Jerry held the door out for her, and Kenzie could see a Mercedes parked on the curb, the tall, imposing form of Becket coming out to open the door of the car for her, and Annette slipped inside, and the car drove away.

I guess it’s a good thing Georgio didn’t do my makeup yet, Kenzie thought. Tears, hot and aching and bitter, coursed down her cheeks as she stepped toward the elevator, and they continued to fall all the way back up to the penthouse, the velvet box clutched in her trembling fingers.

------

She immediately saw the pall that fell over Duncan’s face as she came back into the penthouse--strains of Beethoven played quietly now, Duncan’s cheerful mood clearly affected by Annette’s arrival. He knew she’d been crying. He was sitting in the styling chair again, Hannah pressing product through his waves of dark-copper hair, and he launched himself from her fingers as Kenzie closed the door with one hand, the box clutched in the other, running up to her, clutching her against him. Kenzie closed her eyes, immediately soothed in the enveloping weight of his embrace--there’s nothing else on earth as wonderful as this, baby, as wonderful as being held by you. This is the only thing.

“Baby, what happened? What did she do?” Duncan pulled her away, turning her chin up to him, his hand drifting back to cradle around her ear, his eyes full of clouded anger at Annette’s perceived ills.

“She just--she’s sorry. She loves you. She wants to talk to you. I told her we’re going away for a few days. I told her you’re not ready to talk to her yet but--but maybe you will be when we get back. And she gave me this.” Kenzie felt more tears fall down her cheeks as she lifted the box up to him. Duncan took it with fingers that were shaking again--his eyes roved over the necklace with recognition as he opened the box.

“This was Adelaide’s, wasn’t it,” he whispered. “I remember it. I would touch it when she pulled me into her lap when I was little. I wanted to eat the ruby, you know--how you want to eat everything when you’re little--” and Kenzie knew the steady stream of words was to keep himself from crying, from becoming overwhelmed.

“Shhhh, baby,” she soothed. “Will you help me put it on?”

Duncan quieted and nodded to her, his eyes glittering (like sapphire). He lifted the necklace from the velvet box, setting the latter aside on the island, and Kenzie turned, lifting her chin so he could clasp it around her neck--his fingers were warm, almost hot, and her eyes fluttered open and closed at the feeling of them brushing against her (your touch is heaven to me, heaven) and then he gripped at her shoulders, his mouth coming down to kiss her ear, turning her easily, her weight nothing in his arms, and his gaze fell over her neck and his lips drifted open, his eyes opening and closing (nebulas), and Kenzie could see a kind of peace fall over him, as if she and Adelaide were somehow able to meet now, after all.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, and she nodded, her chin turned up to him. “Adelaide would have loved for you to have it.”

Kenzie felt desperate to be close to him, desperate for him to hold her, suddenly, in a dark place where no eyes could reach them, where they could be naked and taste each other with abandon, with only the moon to see. My One. I want to comfort you in the privacy of our room so very much. She pulled his face down to hers carefully, pressing her forehead to his, and pushed golden waves down into him, pushed with all her strength, all her love, all her longing, and she felt his body relax against hers, like a sigh, though he was silent. She closed her eyes, knowing his were closed too, knowing they could see each other without needing to look--she could see the blue waves of him melting behind the darkness of her lids, could see the iridescent gold she had given him. All good things come in time. We just have to get through tonight. Then we’ll be able to comfort each other, my love. Comfort each other for days. He nodded against her skin, and Kenzie knew he heard.

They broke apart, and she looked over to Hannah, Erik and Georgio, watching her and Duncan with mouths agape again, not speaking to each other. She made eye contact with Erik, who drank off the rest of the wine in his glass, giving her a good-natured eyeroll.

“You two make me wanna get drunk,” he said, waving a hand toward them. “I’m raging with jealousy and arousal.” Kenzie noticed someone had put her roses in another of Duncan’s gold vases in the center of the kitchen island, and she looked at them gratefully.

“Mackenzie, come sit, we have a lot to do still,” Hannah said, tapping the styling chair, and Kenzie glanced back at Duncan (baby, come sit with me, please?) and he nodded to her, going back to the kitchen island and pouring himself another glass of wine as Kenzie sat before Hannah and Georgio, who both attacked her with new gusto--Hannah began to rapidly pin the rosebuds through the back of her hair, while Georgio began to rub different substances into her face with cool hands, his eyes intent on her, making her immediately shy.

“Where did you two meet, anyway?” Hannah asked, using a slender, long pair of blunt tweezers to pull the buds into the braids and strands she’d created at the back of Kenzie’s head.

Kenzie was quiet for a moment, glancing at Duncan who was bringing another glass of wine around to her, nestling it gently into her hand.

“It was a Republican party for PAC donors.”

He gave Kenzie a mischievous smirk, then settled into the chair beside her, but not before dragging it closer to her, veering around Georgio and Hannah with abandon, dipping his long legs under her gold platform heels and propping her feet up under him, his hand coming around to her knee. Kenzie knew he was craving her touch desperately--she could feel the need coming off him toward her, the ache in him for the comfort only her touch brought him (only you, his thoughts were whirling in circles, just you, your hands, your skin, you, I need you and they’ll have to deal with it) and she wanted to press her hand against his throat and taste him with her eager mouth, straddle him and tease him until he was begging for her, and she pressed her hand down onto his, sending the tendrils of these thoughts to him as he spoke again to Hannah, glancing at her with burning eyes.

“She was undercover, recording tidbits of juicy conversation for her article--of course, I didn’t know that until later. Not that I think it would have mattered to me. I was wishing I was literally anywhere else, out on the balcony, hiding from everyone, and she appeared. I thought I’d been knocked into a dream. She was wearing this tiny black velvet dress and these golden sandals that tied up her ankle, and had this necklace, and her hair--”

“Ugh, Duncan, stop--”

“Duncan, do not stop,” Hannah grinned at her, soothing her hands against Kenzie’s temples to hold her head still as Kenzie jerked it towards Duncan, then resumed rapidly dipping the tweezers through the back of her hair. Kenzie could see her face through the mirror, how Georgio was applying dark russet liner to her brows, and a heavy black eyeliner to her upper lids, giving her gaze a high drama.

“Hannah, I would have done literally anything to get her to go home with me. I mean--fucking anything.”

“And all you had to do was buy me a drink. I’m a cheap date,” Kenzie smiled up at Hannah, who laughed a little.

“I can imagine it didn’t take much convincing for either of you,” she said, stepping back from Kenzie’s hair to examine her handiwork. “You’re both--well. At the risk of embarrassing myself by using an antiquated standard, separately, you’re both 10s. Together? Fuck. The scale is fucking broken. Most people would claw each other’s eyes out if it meant they got to stand in your orbit, and I’m not one for flattery. Miss Mackenzie Stone, I do believe you’re ready for the Gala.”

Georgio had stepped back at well, in his silent, appraising way, a round brush still in his hand from applying light, rosy matte blush to Kenzie’s cheeks. He’d made her lips dark red, not quite as burgundy as the roses in her hair, but a deep claret that made her mouth look like a ripe fruit. Kenzie couldn’t stop herself; her breath caught as she gazed at herself, the dramatic angle the light threw on her face, the ruby and diamonds glittering right in the dip of her throat, the gold shimmer of her dress wrapped around her like a second skin.

“Turn around, baby, look,” Duncan urged her, his hand softly drifting against hers, Hannah bringing a little handheld mirror down into her hands to see the back of her hair, which was now a breathtaking array of dancing burgundy red buds, falling in a drifting, wild cascade from the artful arrangement Hannah had created.

“God, you really do look like a painting,” Hannah breathed and Erik was standing back in a pose of admiration, another glass of wine dangling at the end of one arm. He laughed in delight.

“Forget everyone else, darlings, I’ll be following you two around all night.”

Duncan groaned. “Please, no. I want her all to myself.” His hand was drifting up from her thigh to where she had turned towards the study to see her back in the mirror, his fingers falling against the buds, and his thoughts were dark red too, dark red with need for her, and Kenzie could feel the fall of them, almost see herself in his gaze for a moment, feel the pulse of his arousal, the memory in him of the feeling of her clit on his tongue, the ache in him to taste her again, his body shivering to remember the sensitive cavity between her legs, the tightness of her ass--Kenzie tried to swallow, tried to breathe, felt her heart pounding insanely at his touch and the intensity of his need against her in this moment, turning from the mirror to look into his burning gaze, and Hannah and Georgio seemed to somehow sense that their time together was ending; Georgio was gathering his makeup with clipped order, Hannah wrapping the curling iron up, tossing pins into the drawers. Erik was languidly pressing a finger to his phone, calling a private Uber.

“I want you so much,” Duncan had dipped his head to her, his mouth shivering against her ear, kissing down under it as he quieted, as if he deigned to think it rather than speak it aloud, as if he wanted to speak it, needed to, had to or he’d scream instead, and his hands were at her waist, feeling with insistent strength, damning the others, ignoring them. Kenzie’s skin tingled with flushed, radiant heat, her thoughts hazy, suddenly, the cool gold of the necklace pressing into her throat and making her cunt twinge, Duncan’s drifting hands making it twinge again, making her breath catch and burst out in a gasp. Make them go away, baby, she thought, and said aloud to Hannah and Georgio, turning away from him, “Thank you so much--both of you--I can’t say how wonderful--”

“Miss Mackenzie Stone, it was my honor,” Hannah said, her smile lit with warmth that shattered into Kenzie’s heart like an arrow. This woman has a beautiful soul. It gave her as much joy to do this for us as I have now to see the masterpiece she’s created for me. “Hoo boy. I think I’m a Duckenzie now too. Better sign up on that website. Did you two see that? Duckenzie Fans, or whatever it’s called?”

Duncan was laughing, nodding a little, dipping his chin down against the palm of his hand, crooked on his knee, his other hand still on Kenzie’s thigh. “Yeah. It’s something. We met the girls who run it, they can’t be out of high school yet. Kenzie was so lovely to them, it was all over the tabloids. She’s so lovely to people. Makes it easy for me to just stand there and say nothing.”

He was smiling at Kenzie again, his hand drifting, his fingers tightening on her, his thoughts clashing through her like the warm rain that had soaked them a few days ago--I wanna be alone with you now baby love, goddess from heaven, I wanna press that plug into you and whisper into your skin all the things I’m going to do to you later, I want you to force that ring onto me and fuck I’m already getting hard for you, my cock is already aching for you, angel--

Georgio was giving them a glittering look again, that wanton desire still blatant.

“If you two ever wanna think outside the box, I have this group I meet with sometimes in Prince William Forest,” he said evenly.

What the fuck does that mean, Kenzie balked. Like an orgy?

Yes, Kenz, that’s what he means. Duncan had half-rolled his eyes at Georgio’s statement, his thumb drifting soothingly over Kenzie’s knuckles.

“I don’t think so, Georgio, thank you.”

“Suit yourselves. You’d certainly be the center of attention.”

“No, thanks, Georgio.”

Erik was pressing a hand into Georgio’s black-clad back, smiling down at him serenely, batting his eyelashes, ushering the thin man towards the door. Hannah dipped down to Kenzie and hugged her around the neck, gently, careful not to muss the flowers in her hair.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” she whispered into Kenzie’s ear. “I hope to see you again sometime, Miss Stone.”

“Call me Kenzie, please?”

“Kenzie. It was an absolute delight. I can’t wait to see your photos literally everywhere tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” Kenzie grasped the gray-haired woman’s hand and steadied her mind, whisking her psyche away from Duncan--and pressed gold tendrils down into Hannah, morsels of light, drifts of her good will. She watched a serene, doleful expression come into Hannah’s brown eyes, then she let go, and Hannah drifted away from her, still staring at her for a long moment. Erik was pushing Georgio out the door, and called out behind him, “I’ll see you in an hour or so, darlings, I can’t wait to meet the infamous Madeline Stone!” Hannah hesitated for the span of a few seconds, she and Kenzie still staring at each other across the room, pulling her portable drawers behind her on the little wheels attached to the bottom.

Hannah, bright blessings to you. Today, and for the days to come, for you.

Kenzie watched the other woman’s face, watched what seemed to be the glitter of a tear on her cheek--then Hannah waved a little to both of them, and pulled the big black door to the penthouse shut as she left.

Suddenly, the penthouse was quiet, and it was only the two of them. The light had begun to fade--it was almost 7 now, and night was beginning to fall. Kenzie glanced over at the Bouguereau prints on the wall, feeling Duncan’s eyes on her, feeling the blue of his thoughts kissing against her mind. The evening mood, she thought, and turned to him again.

Yes, my Kenzie. The evening mood is here. Come to the bedroom with me. He was standing, gently twining his fingers into hers, grasping onto her train and bringing it over his arm with supine grace, the melted gold of his jacket glowing in the twilight that had suddenly surrounded them. The energy inside her was humming now, building to a kind of frenzied rhythm, and Kenzie could see the full moon beginning to rise as they passed the picture window, see its corn-yellow face from last night had not faded, rather sharpened into a bewitching visage, like a sleeping maiden in a field of night-lit grasses.

“I feel like a princess,” she whispered to him as they entered the bedroom, and Duncan was closing the door behind them, closing it to the world--and then he was pressing against her, pressing her into their Mirror with an aching softness that made her mind leap into a static of feeling, thoughts bleeding out into nothing but his mouth on hers, nothing but his hands on the gold braid at her neck, then his fingers along her collarbones, then clutching at her shoulders, the smooth gold cups at her breasts.

“You are a princess,” he was whispering between their kisses, and Kenzie fought to breathe, “you’re my fucking Princess, you’re my fucking Goddess, you’re mine, aren’t you, my angel on earth, you’ll give yourself to me, baby, won’t you--”

“Fuck, yes, you know I will, baby,” she moaned into him, the tips of his hot fingers refusing to press more harshly into her, his blue gaze heavy-lidded, looking down on her from the dark shadow around them now, waiting teasingly for her answer. “Fuck, get my plug for me, please, baby--”

“Shhh, Kenzie, go get your coconut oil, okay?”

“Uh huh,” she murmured, and turned away from him, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up, flush with goosebumps. Kenzie pressed a hand between her breasts as she stepped carefully to the bathroom, serenely quiet and spotlessly clean, feeling her heart racing--she could see her jar of coconut oil on the edge of the sink, and took it with trembling hands. She tried to imagine telling Kenzie from a year ago about this night--you’ll be going to a Gala attended by the richest people in DC, and you’ll look like an angel, and your boyfriend is Duncan Shepherd, and he’s going to push your plug into your ass beforehand and you’re going to make him wear a cock ring and you’re going to edge each other to death all night and then, hopefully, you’re going to fuck each other into tomorrow morning, Kenzie, and you can hear each other’s thoughts, see the depth of his love for you like the swirling center of a fire--

Kenzie swallowed, stared at herself in the darkened mirror of the bathroom for a moment, almost not recognizing herself for a moment--I really do look like a goddess, she thought. I really fucking do. Be that fearless goddess tonight, Kenzie Lou. Just pretend she is you. For tonight, you are her. You’re a goddess.

Kenzie brought the oil out in hands she willed not to shake, and Duncan was standing by the Mirror, looking at himself curiously, appraisingly, the ring clutched in one hand, her plug in the other. He turned to her, and his smile melted her heart into sweet butter.

“Me first,” she whispered. “I want you to do me first, baby.”

Duncan’s eyes darkened (your storm, my sweet god of shadows) and beckoned to her with one elegantly crooked finger.

“Come here, angel.” Whatever Hannah had done to his hair, she’d made it so his beautiful curls were now even more striking than usual, the fall of them seeming impossible to her eyes in this light, their loveliness ethereal, and she saw him as inhuman again for a moment as she fell into his arms--saw him as as a god made of stars and ink-dark sky. You are the god to my goddess tonight, aren’t you, and their mouths came together in another aching kiss, his tongue brushing down into her, and then he was turning her to face the Mirror, turning her so his stomach pressed insistently into her back. He pressed the cock ring into her fingers, taking the oil away, and she gripped its smooth silicone surface, her heart bursting. Give me all your need, baby, make me feel it, remind me that I belong to you. He opened the oil, dipping his fingers into it, eyes focused on her--Kenzie could see her mouth hung open, her breath coming out in ragged bursts, her face glowing with the lovely makeup--I am going to be so gentle with you, baby, but you won’t get to come yet and no one will know your ache for me, no one will know your secret tonight but me, his eyes said, and then he was dipping the plug into it too, and Kenzie’s cunt and ass twinged sharply, and she sucked her breath in, unable to stop the whimper of the moan that fell out of her. But you’ll be thinking of it all night, as I’ll be thinking of my ache for you.

“Please,” she said, and pressed her hands against the Mirror, leaning just a little, ever so little, to give herself to him. Duncan leaned to set the oil on the dark wood--then, he carefully pressed the hem of Kenzie’s golden dress up with a twisting motion, so it fell up and over her hips, exposing the black lace of the panties she wore underneath the opulent gown. Kenzie could feel the damp, cool pressure of his finger tips at the line of her panties now, and with another quick motion Duncan pulled them down so they hovered around her thighs above her knees--he leaned down over her so his face came up beside her ear, and Kenzie cried out to him as she felt his fingers dip into her ass, first his index, then his middle finger beside it, stretching her.

“Kenzie, babydoll,” he whispered into her ear, and Kenzie leaned back, her mind needy, into his fingers, longing for him to press against her clit, knowing with anguished disappointment that he wouldn’t, not yet, not now. “My sweet baby, my angel of roses. Mine. You can’t take this out until I say you can. Promise me you won’t.”

Kenzie felt his fingers leave her and she was desperate for the loss--”Unng, baby, please, I won’t, I promise I won’t--” she whined, biting into her lip, unafraid in this moment with him, unafraid to show him the desperation of her want for him. “Please put it inside me.”

She sighed with relief as his hand came around her throat, gripping so his fingers pressed possessive divots into her skin, then a long, keening cry melted out of her and his fingers tightened at her neck as she felt the plug’s bulbous head, slick with oil, rest for a long, terrible second against the pucker of her ass, then slide with aching pressure and his strong insistence inside her, guided by his pliant fingers. His hand lingered, fingers pressing around the dip of her ass below where the plug was now snugly tethered, as if to ensure that it was tightly in place, and Kenzie was gasping, gasping at the terrible twinging need of her cunt, the throbbing of her clit, aching to be touched by him there, aching for him alone to give her release, her hands still pressed into the Mirror, his dark-shadowed eyes piercing her with their expectant lust. O Hades, my Hades, kiss me, then let me cage you, and in your cage, think only of me, your Queen of Roses, caged for you by your hand.

“My turn, baby,” he whispered, and crouched down to pull her panties back up snugly to her waist, his fingers drifting over her hips, cupping her ass cheeks, then carefully pulling her golden gown back over her legs, using the hand that hadn’t probed into her--he’s so careful, Kenzie thought, I know how much you want me in this moment, and yet still you’re so careful, so neat, afraid to ruin my gown, my Prince. As Kenzie shifted she could feel the twinge of the plug’s weight against the sensitive cavity of her ass, and she felt her knees buckle for a moment, her thighs tingling, her neck longing for the press of his hand again. Want it there always, my Prince, my sweet Hades, your scent like the wild wood of night. She pulled him down to her mouth, laving her tongue out into him, and Duncan moaned with piteous need, and Kenzie felt the long tendriled gold of her need reach out for him in turn, demanding.

“Put your hands at your sides, baby. You’re not allowed to move them.”

Duncan immediately did as she said, his eyes smoldering in the darkening bedroom, his mouth open to her, his thoughts afire with her. God, baby, I am fucking dying for you, you’re so fucking beautiful, not touching you is like torture, I’m yours, I beg you, please, touch me, baby.

You are truly the most beautiful boy I have ever seen, Kenzie thought. And you are fucking mine. You’re mine, baby. Your beautiful cock belongs to me.

“I know this is going to make you ache terribly tonight,” Kenzie said, evening her tone just above a whisper. “But you have to be good. You can’t touch yourself, you can’t take it off.” She knelt very slowly in the opulent gown, her back to the Mirror now, dipping her head so he could see the way she was prostrate for him, her head looking up at him, the cascade of her rosebud-brindled hair arrayed for him in its loveliness. Duncan closed his eyes, and she felt how overcome he was, how lost in the sight of her, and it thrilled her--that’s fucking right, Prince Duncan, your Persephone kneels before you now, and you will promise her you will allay your pleasure until she has need of it, and Kenzie could see the dip of his crotch had grown in the low light--she lifted her hands up and undid the button at his groin carefully, unzipping his pants, pulling down the waistband of his body-tight briefs to bring one of her slender hands against the bottom of the shaft of his growing cock, pulling it out decisively, and Duncan’s breath hitched, his head falling back, his adam’s apple bobbing in the light, making Kenzie want to pull him down to her so she could press her mouth against him there. She focused, instead, on his thick length, the veins of his sex suddenly beautiful to her, the head of his cock a roundness that she longed to dip into her mouth, a sliding droplet of precum glittering there. Instead, Kenzie lifted her hand away--Duncan moaned, dejected with the loss of her, and she could see his hands shaking at his sides--then she picked up the ring from where she’d carefully laid it by her knee, dipping her fingertips into the oil, slathering them along the circular interior of the toy.

Then, Kenzie dipped one of her hands into the oil again, and quickly brought it up, before Duncan could prepare himself, to the low hardness of his cock--she slathered the oil along him from head to base and Kenzie watched with satisfaction, feeling the plug pressing into her from her spread thighs where she knelt to him, as his mouth dipped open again and his shoulders shuddered minutely at her touch. Kenzie didn’t wait again--she gripped the ring and carefully, but with deep, concentrated insistence, pushed it onto his cock to the base, watching with a burst of intense heat into the bottom of her belly how it twinged with redness, immediately constricted.

“Ung, Kenzie, fuck me, holy fuck,” Duncan murmured, his hands drifting dangerously close to the ring, to his length, his eyes furiously bright, and Kenzie shook her head.

“No, baby. You can’t. Only I can take it off.”

“Fuck, baby, angel, I can’t--”

Kenzie stood, grasping his cock again, making him shudder and cry out, his throat convulsing, and she pushed him back down into the tight briefs he wore, zipping the closely tailored slacks and buttoning them, her fingers hooking over the waistline, my tall Prince, her face hovering at his heart, her dark red lips falling against the melting gold and velvet of his jacket to kiss it. The heat that fell away from him over her was blinding--he seemed to be burning, the blue flame of him almost visible to her naked eyes.

“You can, Dunny. It’s for me. My plug is so tight, baby, when I sit down it’s going to make me fucking writhe for you--” and Duncan went to grasp her but Kenzie said “wash your hands first, baby,” and he stepped back, nodding, turning as Kenzie followed him to the bathroom--she dipped her hands into the sink with his, the soap mingling between them, the Cartier bracelets falling down their wrists and clinking together, Duncan’s face leaning close to her hair, and Kenzie knew he was breathing her scent in. She reached for the hand towel and dipped her hands into it, then Duncan’s hands were pulling it insistently away, gripping her hips and pushing her into the wall, knowing it was okay, knowing he had her permission to hold her, now that both of them were carefully, insistently claimed by the other, both driven to the edge of their desire and now, with terrible need, held there for an undetermined amount of time, and knowing that to touch each other for a moment, a few moments, would be the only relief for hours. His lips fell against hers, her arms dipping up to reach for him, but he grasped her wrists and forced them against the wall, holding her there.

“I’m in fucking agony, baby,” he murmured, and Kenzie shivered, delighted by the strength coiled in his fingers, the strain in his voice. She struggled a little, facetiously, against his grip, and he tightened it as she giggled.

“Good,” she whispered, and she felt the burst of heat fall onto her from him at that. Duncan bit his lip, his eyes falling down her face to the tailored shape of the dress against her breasts, the dip of her throat with the gold braid, diamonds, and the ruby, the diamonds on her wrist she couldn’t take off unless he unlocked it.

“I wanna fucking fuck you, Kenzie.”

“You will, baby. Later. We have a Gala to go to.”

“I don’t fucking care about the Gala.”

“I know. But we have to.”

Duncan whined into her neck, and Kenzie turned her head, the better to feel his lips on her there, turning her head up, lifting her thigh up so it pressed into his crotch, and Duncan groaned, the sound bleeding into a strangled, tiny sob in the back of his throat. His grip loosened on her wrists, enough for her to release one of them, and Kenzie slipped out of his grasp, bringing her hand around to press into his darkly stubbled cheek, smooth with the dusting of concealer Georgio had put there. Not that he needs it. His skin is already so smooth and beautiful.

Kenzie tapped his cheek with an insistent little snap. “Bad boy is gonna fuck me so good later, aren’t you. My Prince is gonna fucking fuck my brains out.”

“Uh huh. I fucking am. I wanna do it right fucking now--”

She brought her hand up and let it come down again, this time with a more insistent little tap into his cheekbone. Duncan’s breath hitched.

“Kenzie, do it again. Harder. Tell me to calm the fuck down. I’m too hard and I can’t think straight. Fuck, baby, please. Slap me.”

Kenzie nodded and brought her hand up, Duncan still clutching her other wrist to the wall--she made sure her palm was very flat this time, and brought it down with a swift snap. This time Duncan’s face pitched to the side and his eyes fluttered closed with the low pain of it, and he stepped back from her, releasing her other wrist. Kenzie brought her hands around him, steadying him at the waist, and he blew out a low breath, eyes earthwards.

“Let’s go to this fucking party, baby,” Kenzie whispered. “I wanna show them how fucking beautiful we are.”

Duncan lifted his eyes, and the wildfire in them stopped her heart again.

“I’m ready, my Queen of Roses.” And Kenzie grinned, bouncing up against him in her platform heels, shaking out her rose-laden hair, leading her dark prince out of their rooms, his hand gripping her train possessively. Kenzie snatched up the little golden clutch Morgan had made for her, and pulled him, between insistent, coaxing kisses, out of the penthouse and into the elevator. Kenzie was absolutely struck by their reflection now, highlighted by brighter lights of the elevator’s interior--Duncan was pulling his phone out of his pocket. We have to, he thought, and Kenzie nodded. Time to show everyone.

Kenzie pressed against him, clutching her hand to his lapels under her chin, turning her head so the roses in her hair were visible in the mirror, her dress pressed to the side, partially enveloped and hidden by Duncan’s dark arm around her waist, but the back of the golden train shimmering in the light. Duncan’s darkly-shadowed eyes glanced into the reflection, his expression defiant and knowing, the dripping gold of his jacket striking, the golden, intricate tips at his collar scintillating under his sharp jawline, the fall of his hair just-so. He lifted his phone, capturing the reflection, bringing it down for her appraisal. Kenzie nodded, looking up at him. Yes, baby. Good. So fucking good.

She watched as he typed a caption. Hades and Persephone ascend to Earth for a party. #weheardyoulikeus #andifyoudontohwell #duckenziesayshiworld

Kenzie giggled and nodded. “Fuck yes, baby.” He continued to hold her against him as he posted the photo, his hand drifting against her shoulder as he bit his lip, squinting at his phone in concentration in the bright light. I love him. I love how earnest he is in our quiet moments together like this.

“Baby, send it to me okay? I want it.”

Duncan nodded into her cheek as the elevator door dinged open to the foyer, and Kenzie could feel the vague pressure of the silicone ring pressing into her hip from where he leaned his crotch against her. His hand drifted down, quickly brushing over her ass, down to the curve above her thighs, where he knew the plug was--Kenzie let out a little cry and slid away from him, hot lines of want coursing down through her belly at his touch, trying to straighten her expression when she saw Anchaly had returned to his desk. Duncan followed behind her, eyes burning on her, his hand still possessively grasping her train in his fist.

“I see you’ve come down to bless the mortals, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Anchaly grinned. He had a new book, The New Adam and Eve, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Whatever strain he’d felt over Annette’s visit was now gone from his face, and his eyes were glittering at them again, his posture immediately leaning towards them, as if drawn by a lure. “I’m stunned, Miss Mackenzie, your hair, like the garden of Eden.”

Kenzie twirled for him, smiling at him coyly. Anchaly laughed, delighted, gazing raptly. The way people look at us now, she thought to Duncan. It’s a little bit spooky.

I agree, but who wouldn’t look at you that way, angel.

“Have a wonderful evening. I have no doubt you will, how could you not? As blessed as you are.”

Kenzie watched Duncan’s eyes turn on Anchaly, his dawning expression of recognition.

“Anchaly, we truly are blessed. I’m blessed. I’m grateful. To whatever’s out there. The Fates or...destiny. God. The gods. I’m grateful.” Duncan’s hand went to his hair, slid down his chin, rubbing there, thumb drifting to his lip. Kenzie stepped to him and grasped his hand, felt the immediate cooling contentment of his mind at her touch. Anchaly said nothing, merely continued to look at them admiringly.

“I’m sure your gratitude has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Shepherd. It’s apparent in you now. The change in you is breathtaking. You will do great work together. I can see it like a clear path stretching out ahead. Enjoy yourselves and be happy.”

Kenzie smiled. The smile seemed to extend through all of her body, down to her toes, through the tips of her fingers, into the skin of her cheeks and coursing through the back of her mind and her neck to her spine, shaking through the ends of her hair. She pushed the gold tendrils through herself; I’m so happy I could fucking die, she thought, and she felt the tendrils extend out of her in that moment, stronger than they’d ever been before except in the dream where she’d made the fire grow, and she felt them touch Duncan with deep, abiding strength, and brush against Anchaly with affection, and they both looked at her with expressions that reminded her of effigies in a church, faces turned with fervent eyes--and Duncan’s filled her with conciliation, with the knowledge that with his eyes on her this way, she was truly seen, that he saw beyond the flowers in her hair, the blush on her cheeks, the darkness at her lips, to the secret soul she had long hidden, the one that belonged to him because he had promised to love it with abandon.

Duncan seemed to surface from the vision she had pressed around them; he turned to Anchaly and thanked him, and then he pulled Kenzie out the door (Jerry said nothing, merely beamed at them and stared, his eyes wide) to where Samuel waited, and a sweet summer wind was blowing, cool and soft, and it smelled like long grass and the sun-kissed residue of day, it smelled like the full moon that hovered above them, a scent like small flowers in shadows and the heady musk of damp earth and, wildly, the aching crash of the sea, Kenzie’s eyes glancing to its perfect roundness--it seemed impossibly huge tonight, the sun kissing Her, pressed into an ardent embrace; it’s for us, she thought wildly, stopping Duncan breathlessly, bringing him against her under it, his arms lifting her into his mouth achingly, his tall body so right as it enveloped hers utterly, Kenzie, I’ll love you until the end of time, he was thinking, I’ll love you until time means nothing, and it was as if she could feel the moonlight holding them, feel it pressing soft, cool hands into their hair, smiling on them with serene affection, hoping for their love to find its secret holding place later tonight, urging them to the time when they’d be alone again, tangled in the sheets of the black bed, irrevocably entwined, like Her, held by the Sun, now a part of Her, the source of her light, and Her his most beloved. Duncan, I love you so much the words in my heart have not yet been written in any language. The gold of me is all for you. And the moon saw them, and knew it to be true.

---------

It was five before 8 when Madeline slid carefully into the front seat beside Samuel, who was playing Billie Holiday (I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you) quietly. Momby was wearing one of her gold scarves draped over her shoulders with a brocade Calvin Klein dress, as promised, and she had a lovely rose-gold pin clasping the scarf against her--it was in the shape of a rose, and Kenzie puzzled at it.

“Oh Kenzie Lou, you look beautiful,” her Momby breathed, and Kenzie was reaching her hand through the partition, her emotions bubbling up, threatening to overflow. Her mother’s hand was warm and comforting, deeply familiar. “You too, Duncan. I mean, really. Fucking beautiful.”

Duncan was smiling at her through the window. “Thank you, Madeline. So do you.”

“Momby, where did you get that pin? I’ve never seen it before.”

“I had other admirers besides your father when I was young, baby,” was all Madeline said, turning to glance at Samuel. “Why hello, most delightful specimen on God’s green earth.”

Samuel laughed at her, his very white teeth shining out of his mouth in the shadows and dim neon lights of the car’s interior. “Miss Madeline, to see you again is truly a blessing to me. And may I say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Go on, go on,” Madeline took her hand out of Kenzie’s and pressed it to Samuel’s arm. Kenzie balked. Momby. Kenzie pulled her phone out, sending Clairebear a quick text, remembering.

Good luck on your date with Harris tonight!!!! I love you so much. We couldn’t help it, we jumped the gun and posted a picture on Instagram, but here it is again. She attached the photo Duncan had taken of them in the elevator to the text, hit Send, then typed again.

Clairebear, thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know who I would be without you. I’m so emotional tonight, it’s like my body is on fire. Duncan and I are going away for a few days after this, his family has a cabin by Deep Creek Lake, it’s a few hours away. He found out he’s adopted and no one ever told him until now, so it’s been really difficult for him. I don’t know how the phone service is out there, and I’ll still have my phone, but I think we’re going to try to go off the grid a little bit.

She hit Send, then typed again, Duncan’s hand drifting to her leg. “I’m texting Claire,” she murmured to him, and he nodded, his eyes closed, his mouth in her hair, blue waves tenderly brushing against her body.

Duncan and I have been having some really strange experiences with each other lately. It’s hard to describe. Strange dreams and other things that should just be impossible. I’ll tell you more about it when we get back. I think we need to figure out what it means and I feel really strongly that if we go off to the woods we’ll find the thing we’re looking for. Not sure why, but that’s what it feels like. When we get back, I think we’ll know more about all of it.

Claire, I love you forever.

They were already pulling up to the Shepherd mansion’s gate, and the moment, the reality of the Gala, which had seemed so far away, had finally arrived. Kenzie slipped her phone back into her clutch, turning to gaze out the window--around the gate were at least two hundred people, some non-credentialed press, some clearly fans. Kenzie noticed with a jolt of recognition that Lindy and Gabby were among them--Gabby was holding a sign that said DUCKENZIE WE LOVE YOU STOP AND BE FRIENDLY, her curly red hair shimmering in the street lamps that lined the tall, impenetrable white fence that stretched around the property. Kenzie grinned--referencing one of my favorite movies is a good way to get my attention, she thought, and leaned to Samuel.

“Samuel, stop here for a minute,” and Duncan balked, trying to grab her hand.

“No, Kenzie, Harris isn’t here--”

“It’s okay, baby, I promise. It’s okay.” She looked steadily into his eyes. I can do this. Watch me.

Kenzie pressed the door open and stepped out onto the curb, and immediately a swarm of press gathered around her--Duncan was getting out of the car behind her, his expression deeply creased with concern. Kenzie took a deep breath and pushed outward--for a moment her body tingled wildly, her mind compressing and her head feeling impossibly heavy, pushing her chin down--and then the air around her seemed to calm, the summer wind that had been blowing seemed to stop, and the frantic shouting of the press around her lowered as if someone had turned a dial on stereo, their pressing dispersing, like leaves scattering, caught in a tiny tornado that spread them back. There, that’s better, she thought, and reached for Duncan’s hand. His expression was stunned now, gazing at her in bewildered wonder, and Kenzie smiled at him earnestly. I told you, Dunny, it’s okay. Come on.

She stepped up to Gabby and Lindy, who hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual, somehow; they were hopping excitedly, squealing and reaching out to her.

“Kenzie, Kenzie, we made you something!” Lindy held out a large squarish object that turned out to be a handmade scrapbook full of fan messages--Kenzie held it gently and nodded. “You look like a goddess tonight,” Lindy said, then unceremoniously the small girl burst into tears.

“Oh, Lindy, it’s okay--don’t cry,” Kenzie was pulling the girl against her gently, and Gabby was biting her lip, clearly hovering near tears as well. “Thank you so much, Duncan and I looked at the website, it’s absolutely beautiful. You two definitely have a career in web design. Maybe we can hire you for Shepherd Unlimited someday.” Gabby rocked back on her heels (both girls were wearing long flowery dresses, and their earnest loveliness pressed on Kenzie’s heart), her eyes fluttering in disbelief. “Oh, Kenzie, really? Thank you so much for looking at it, we’ve been working so hard, so, so hard.” Kenzie let go of Lindy, opening her clutch and handing the girl a tissue from it.

“Girls, we have to go, but it was so nice to see you again,” Duncan murmured to them, taking the scrapbook from Kenzie’s hands, grasping her with tight fingers. Kenzie quickly leaned and kissed Lindy’s tear-stained cheek, then Gabby’s, blushing and hot, pushing gold tendrils into them, watching Lindy’s face calm and soften. There. No more tears, sweet. I see you. She gave them both a little wave as she stepped back, then turned to the other people gathered around them, gazing at Kenzie and her interactions with the two girls with awed expressions. Suddenly the night was strangely quiet; the moon looked down on the scene, and everyone stared at Kenzie, a hush falling over the hubbub of the crowd.

“Next time,” she said, nodding, turning to the press, and then Duncan pulled her insistently back into the car, Samuel whipping the BMW around to the open gate, where several security guards were keeping the fans and other press back, ushering cars through to the mansion entrance. Kenzie heard the sounds of the crowd resume as the car drove on; that was really strange.

“Kenzie, why in the world would you do that?” Madeline was scolding her, looking back at her with an exasperated expression. “Your bodyguard is off duty and Duncan went as white as a sheet. He still is, look.”

“It’s important to be to be kind to people, Momby,” was all Kenzie said. Duncan didn’t say anything, putting the scrapbook from the girls down at his feet, still holding her hand tightly. Kenzie could see that he was a little pale under the dark eyeshadow, but his thoughts were even now. I know why you did it, baby. I love how brave you are, even if I’m not. Even when you do--whatever it is you do. I’m still afraid for your safety, my sweet Kenzie.

I know, baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just feel like I--I really feel like I need to be kind to those girls. Like I WANT to be kind to them. They can see our love and they’re moved by it. I want them to know we see them, too, and how earnest they are. How lovely.

Samuel had made it to the entrance, which Kenzie could see was heralded tonight with huge banners running from the edge of the sidewalk to the entrance, the doors thrown wide tonight to expose the opulent foyer of Annette Shepherd’s mansion. Some of the banners had the Shepherd Unlimited logo (an SU in white Verdana script with cobalt blue fleur de lis on either side) and opulent, swirling gold text on a black background that read 4TH ANNUAL SHEPHERD FREEDOM FOUNDATION GALA: GOLD IN THE DARKNESS and in smaller script The Juxtaposition of Light and Shadow in the Pre-Raphaelite Movement. Between the script banners were picture banners printed stunningly with major Pre-Raphaelite works: Kenzie could make out Rossetti’s Venus Verticordia, Cowper’s Vanity, and Evelyn de Morgan’s The Field of the Slain, alongside others obscured from her seat. The glowing feeling she’d felt with Gabby and Lindy faded out into nervous excitement now, and she felt her throat clench, her hands going cold as blood rushed to her head. She shifted, feeling the press of the plug inside her, sending sharp pricks of intensity up her spine and through her thighs. Duncan clutched her hand more tightly, and she knew he was thinking about the clenching weight of the ring at his cock, could feel the intensity of his desire for her, like lightning bolts of needling sensation, infiltrating the corners of her mind. Hang in there, baby, and she turned to him, smiling nervously, his eyes intent on her as he bit his lip. We have a long way to go.

“Earth to Kenzie and Duncan,” Madeline called into the backseat, her voice impatient. “Your mother is fucking starving!”

Kenzie glanced out the window again--between the rows of banners on either side of the entranceway was a lush black carpet, stretching into the mansion and beyond her eyesight. There were at least a hundred people milling around on it now--the press was confined to the sidelines by gold ropes, photographers to a stretch around the middle of the walkway, a black backdrop visible with the Shepherd logo and various sponsor logos printed along it. Kenzie recognized several Senators and Congresspeople, as well as the Mayor and Vice President Usher, and also recognized several well-known celebrities with a little burst of shyness--get it together Kenz, you’re a celebrity now too, in your own right.

You’re the most important person here, she heard Duncan’s thought to her. I mean it, Kenz.You are. Don’t fucking worry about any of them. Tonight, this is for you. It’s about you. They’re going to see. Kenzie felt a rush of nerves, an aching affection for him, full of gratitude and desire and love, and she quickly dipped her mouth up to his and brought her hand to his hair, then she pulled away before he could deepen it--and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the carpet.

Kenzie’s eyes widened as the collective eyes of the press and photo pools drifted over to the BMW--as one, they seemed to shift all their energy and attention onto her and her alone, giving her the acute feeling of a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. Duncan was exiting behind her, and then a short-haired valet hurrying up to them, a flushed look on his face, pulling the front passenger’s open for Madeline, who gave him an appraising stare over her glasses as Kenzie felt the eyes of the guests now turning onto them as well--she locked eyes with Mark Usher for a moment, her blood going cold, and his expression was indecipherable to her, but Kenzie knew he knew who she was, which made her feel as though someone had usurped her body and put a mask on it. The Vice President can’t possibly know me, little ol’ Mackenzie Stone. How the fuck? Life makes no fucking sense anymore.

“Darlings, please, distract them from me,” Madeline turned her head to Duncan, who was holding his hand reassuringly at the small of Kenzie’s back as she stood stock-still, frozen and trapped in her thoughts. “I need to get to the refreshment table post-haste. Kiss or something.”

“You know I’m going to kiss her, Madeline,” Duncan smiled. “As often as possible and as long as she’ll let me.”

“That’s my boy.”

Madeline set out ahead of them before Kenzie could stop her, pausing to made a snide comment to a woman with platinum blonde hair and a monstrous dress that seemed to be made of the tinselly tassels of cheerleader pompoms in gold and white towards the front of the press area. The woman’s face pinched into a mask of dislike at Kenzie’s mother, and Kenzie fought the urge to laugh.

“Who’s that?” She whispered to Duncan, unable to look away from the horrible dress the woman wore. Kenzie felt acutely that she recognized her from somewhere, but couldn’t decipher where.

“It’s Gretchen Friedrichs,” Duncan answered in a dark tone. “She has a popular conservative web series called Patriot Watch. And she’s absolutely awful. I hope Madeline just told her to fuck off into a black hole. She’s going to try to talk to you. Ignore her.”

Duncan twined his fingers through Kenzie’s, his other hand coming down to her train to drape it over his arm, and he stepped forward, pulling her gently. Time to go, sweet Kenzie. You look as beautiful as a falling star. I know how brave you are. This is nothing for you. A piece of cake. They were nearing the press pool, the whole of which had turned their attention utterly on Kenzie and Duncan, making the hairs on Kenzie’s arms rise with the intensity of their stares. The energy was suddenly dense, suffocating, almost savage, and it made Kenzie want to turn and run back to the BMW--but the BMW wasn’t there anymore, Samuel had driven away. Too late, Kenz, you’re in it now. Kenzie glanced at Duncan, feeling her heart clench, feeling as though there was water in her ears, blocking her hearing, and she felt horribly dizzy for a moment. He’s so beautiful, all in gold and black, as beautiful as the evening, as divine as an angel with dark wings, Prince Duncan from high in his opulent tower, and who am I, but little Mackenzie Stone, tripping over her own feet, crying over every little thing, with her shitty little apartment and her shitty little tchotkes, her shitty little plants and her little goofy button face--

Kenzie. Remember when you had the nightmare? Breathe like that. Just breathe, baby. I love you more than anything on this earth. You know how extraordinary you are--but I’ll tell you again. You’ve felt it when our minds come together this way--you’ve felt it in our bed, how you’ve made me needy for you beyond all desire I’ve ever experienced, and you’ve felt it in the way you can bring comfort to others just by willing it into them. Mackenzie Stone. You are not a little of anything. You are a gold ocean of impossible depth. Now breathe. I love you. Show them. Duncan’s eyes were twin pools of sapphiric water--they knew her, and saw her, and accepted her utterly, worshipped her, and she knew it.

Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, and breathed out through her mouth. Then she went up to Gary Spencer and Sissy Conners, past Gretchen Friedrichs who shouted “Mackenzie, Mackenzie, does this mean you’re a Republican now?” and smiled at them--and when she smiled, rather than pressing the gold outward, Kenzie swirled it, stirred it, in the pit of her body, stirred it high into herself, and moved it through her mind. Mackenzie. You truly are that brave person Duncan believes you to be. Think of everything that’s happened. This is really nothing. You’re together. You are the sceptre, he is the sword. Eternal and unshaking.

The last of the thought came unbidden, a jarring, nonsensical certainty that she didn’t understand, and Kenzie blinked, moving it away from herself, refocusing on the high, heady boldness she could feel building in herself now. She shifted, resurfacing to reality, feeling the plug pressing into her again, pressing hot fingers into the sensitivity of her muscles and senses. Our secret, baby, here among all these people.

“Mackenzie, how are you feeling tonight?” Sissy was holding a microphone out to her, her smile too wide and too white, her dress a blinding, extremely tight bodycon in dark gold snakeskin. “You look absolutely exquisite, an absolute vision, I know you mentioned yesterday that Morgan Winthrop designed your look for tonight, but what’s the concept here, beyond the theme?”

“I’m the concept,” Kenzie was tilting her head down, batting her eyelashes slowly, giving her best Kenzie-wants-something-from-Momby look--one she’d perfected over a lifetime--aware the camera on Ricky’s shoulder behind them was zeroed on her. She glanced to the side--Duncan was saying something to Gretchen in a low voice, still clutching the end of Kenzie’s train, his expression dark. Gretchen looked like she’d swallowed something sour, and Kenzie looked back at the BPF reporters, a satisfied twinge floating through her mind. “Duncan was inspired by me. By our relationship. We both love mythology and we’re drawn to the myth of Hades and Persephone, so we kind of went with something along those lines, but--I feel wonderful, I can’t wait to see the set-up inside, I just love the banners already. I know everyone’s been working so hard. I love the romanticism of all of it, and I’m so happy Duncan and I are finally getting a chance to step out publically together, so, yeah--I’m just really happy to be here. And to show off Morgan’s extraordinary talents.” She grinned at Sissy, who was gaping at her with surprise. Duncan finally appeared at her elbow; he’d set her train down behind them, and Kenzie turned her head over her shoulder to glance down at it, fanning like a gold river over a black landscape, then turned her face up to him, her smile still wide. I fucking love you, baby. She grasped his hand and Sissy switched the microphone to Duncan now, her expression one of wonder, speaking rapidly.

“Duncan, wow--the look. The eyeshadow, the gold jacket, the collar--you two are just so incredibly beautiful together, there’s now an internet shorthand for your relationship, “Duckenzie”, which I’m sure you’re both aware of, I’ve heard you have a fan club now and your Instagrams are the most popular on the internet lately--I saw you already posted a shot of your looks for tonight and it’s racked up a quarter of a million likes already--is there anything you would say to your fans around the world? They seem to be growing by the hour, and tonight is sure to bring you more.”

“We think everyone is wonderful,” Kenzie said, and turned to Duncan, drifting gold against him. Everyone can see, baby. I feel it. He nodded, smiling down at her, his dark look shivering against her heart again, his thumb pressing into her palm, suggestive, hidden. “And good things are coming,” he said.

“Duncan, can you elaborate on that?” Gary said, his eyes switching back and forth between them, puzzled, rapt.

“It’ll be clearer in time,” Kenzie said to him, staring at him steadily for a long moment. Gary seemed utterly shaken by them; Kenzie could see sweat had broken out on his brow, and he looked away from her after a moment, nervously. “Thanks, Sissy, Gary. Thanks.”

“Have...a wonderful time.”

Sissy’s voice suddenly seemed tiny, far different from the boisterous tone she usually used. Kenzie could see the confusion in the other woman’s eyes--as if she’d seen something she couldn’t explain, something that had shaken her to the core. It’s us, Kenzie knew. Sissy saw us for a moment. Not me and Duncan, not really--she saw those other selves. The ones we see in our dreams sometimes. The ones that cannot be described in words. She saw us, just the tiniest bit, reflected from us like a mirror held up to another time and place. She felt us. Kenzie pulled Duncan away from the press pool, and to the black backdrop, turning towards where fifty photographers crouched on specially designed pews--their flashes immediately blinded her, made her suck her breath in, their voices rising in a cacophony so she could barely decipher one from the next.

“You got this, baby,” Duncan was whispering down into her ear, his hand snaking around her waist again. “Duncan! Mackenzie! Over here! Mackenzie, you look gorgeous! Mackenzie! You look beautiful Mackenzie! Duncan, this way, thank you! We love you, over here! You’re so lovely together! Duckenzie, look this way! Thank you! Duckenzie forever!” And Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh, dipping her head to showcase the dark rosebuds in her hair, Duncan turning his face down to her temple, his smile making her laugh again as he clutched her against him, their Cartier bracelets visibly crossed at their wrists for the onlookers, the shattering rhythm of the cameras rising higher, frenzied to capture the moment between them, the voices of the photographers clashing again and again against each other, and Kenzie felt absolutely drunk to be in his arms this way, suddenly forgetting the dozens of cameras facing them, feeling the pressure of the hidden ring at his groin pressing against the dip of her abdomen, making her shudder in his arms with tiny, almost imperceptible tension, and she could hear a kind of rising sigh from the photographers, a murmuring admiration that seemed to be making Duncan flushed, seemed to be kindling his boldness--he turned his face down to her, opening his mouth just so, kissing her in a rapturous, fluid movement that caused an audible gasp from the rows of cameras, a collective exclamation of gratification that elated her.

His lips bruised against her for a tender, tiny eon--Kenzie lost herself against him for the span of it, her eyes closing to the intensity of the camera flashes, the sound of the shouting mob floating away from her ears, her mind drifting to them alone in their bed in the blessed darkness, his strong, elegant hands tying her to the chain with velvet ribbon, that first kiss, that night on the balcony covered in roses, god, my life changing forever in your arms in an instant, beloved, the unbearable softness with which he’d first touched her, his hands falling to the sides of her face, the urgency of his mouth then, the venerate devotion in his mouth now--and then Duncan was breaking away from her, as if remembering himself, remembering that they were caught in the gaze of at least two hundred people in this moment, and they resurfaced to reality, both of them trembling against each other, longing for the moment where Kenzie knew, and could feel that Duncan knew, they could finally be alone. Alone together, the only thing I ever want now, ever.

There was another audible, collective sigh from the photographers as Duncan gently pulled Kenzie beyond the backdrop--this one of disappointment at the moment ending, Kenzie knew, frustration that they were leaving. They adore us, Kenzie thought. And she knew it was absolutely true; knew it, without ego or pretense, as she knew the full moon was hanging over them, watching the night unfold. They see it too.

Duncan was pulling her away from the frenzied press of the carpet--Kenzie could now see that almost everyone around them was watching them, but everyone seemed to be afraid to speak to them, eyes flitting over Duncan’s dripping-gold jacket, the striking shadow around his eyes, over the fall of her hair and the Cartier diamonds at her throat and on her wrist, falling down the shimmering gold of her bodice and the gentle dip of the sleeves, the train drifting behind her. No one dared to tread on her--Kenzie recognized a very famous actor, watched him carefully avoid the train, his eyes roving up over her form hungrily, and she met his gaze with a tiny smile. He looked away, sheepishly, blushing. I suppose one doesn’t dare mess with the Shepherds, generally speaking. Not for the first time, and she suspected, not the last, Kenzie remembered that Duncan was part of a very, very wealthy family, and that likely, he would soon be the inheritor of that immense wealth.

And then we’ll change the world, baby.

Kenzie gazed raptly at the foyer as Duncan helped her up the steps and through the double-doors, looping her hand into the crook of his arm, pressing her fingers into the muscles there, feeling him clench them at her touch. More baby, touch me more. There were dozens more of the banners here, Hughes’ Ophelia, Burne-Jones’ The Golden Stairs, but the angels of Waterhouse’s St. Cecilia caught her eye immediately--their sweet faces calm and reticent, watching the saint in her slumber, their innocence and sincerity clamoring into her heart. They look like Gabby and Lindy, Kenzie thought, remembering Lindy’s tears. My two little angels. Duncan looked back at her, noticing the emotion in her. She shook her head a little.

“It’s all just so beautiful, Dunny,” she whispered, and he was nodding to her, the dark beauty of him in the chandeliers moving her further still, moving her beyond words again. He brought his arm around her to drift down her back, pulling her beside the staircase, out of the way of the people around them, sliding his fingers down to the beginning of the incline of her ass, and she drifted back from him, shaking her head. No, baby, don’t. It’s too much. There are too many people. You need to be patient. She saw the terrible longing floating behind his eyes, saw the blue flames licking around her from him, and she smiled. Poor, poor baby. Is that ring making you ache and ache for me?

Yes, Kenzie, fuck. So fucking much. It’s almost unbearable. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

My poor, sweet baby. Kenzie went back to him, letting him grip her under her bare arms with his hot fingers, letting him press his mouth against her cheek, onlookers be damned. Let them look. Annette was nowhere to be seen here--Kenzie’s eyes skirted across the room as Duncan continued to kiss down to her ear, pressing into her. She must be in the room beyond. I don’t know how we’re going to avoid her, but we’re going to.

“We should probably find Momby, make sure she hasn’t fallen into a fondue fountain somewhere.”

“God, I just want you alone,” Duncan’s mouth was shivering into the dip of her ear, bringing the delicate hairs at the back of her neck up, his hands drifting at the smooth gold under her breasts. “I just want you all to myself, angel.” Kenzie could see people staring at them, eyes hungry; god, I don’t know who a lot of these people are, but they look fucking important.

“Shhh, really baby, we should find Momby, okay? Please?”

At that moment Kenzie’s eyes zeroed on a figure making a determined beeline for them from the other side of the foyer--Duncan was still pressing his mouth into her ear, sucking and biting there with urgency, his whispers having quieted to now drift secretly in her mind, and he hadn’t noticed the figure yet. It was a woman, and she was petite, like Kenzie, and beautiful, with wide, long-lashed eyes, full lips and a button nose, but rail-thin, her chin jutting towards them as though she were being pulled by an invisible force. She had long, artfully styled platinum hair, falling over her shoulder in expertly arranged waves, and her dress was a sculptured black bodice decorated with intricate gold embroidery, accentuating her minute waist, which fell into a voluptuous cascade of black tulle that seemed to buoy her across the room. At her throat was a huge yellow diamond, so large Kenzie wondered for a moment how she was holding her head up. Her fists were clenched at her sides as if she were bitterly angry, but a wide smile was plastered across her face, exposing all her teeth (like a crocodile, Kenzie thought). Her dark eyes were staring, eerily unblinking, at the back of Duncan’s head, and at Kenzie.

Marissa Montague.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, trying to pull back from him, but he continued to kiss at her, lost for a moment, “Duncan, it’s--”

“Duncan Shepherd! Duncan, oh my god, I’ve been so busy lately, it’s been so hard to call you!” Marissa had reached them, and her voice pitched high, dipping towards uneven, though her smile remained plastered on her face, stretching her cheeks to what looked like an almost painful degree to Kenzie. Duncan stopped kissing Kenzie’s neck, but his mouth still hovered close to her, his arms still clutched tightly around her. Kenzie looked over his shoulder into Marissa’s eyes; she could see the coiled snake that rested behind them, the wanton need, now that Marissa was this close. But not for Duncan, not really, Kenzie knew. What she wants is attention--fame, attention everlasting from the multitude, and to be showered in riches, but her thirst for them is insatiable. There’s a hole inside her that gnaws with hungry teeth, and it has never had its fill, not once. So she searches for more food for it.

Duncan turned his head slowly to look at Marissa, and Kenzie saw the cast of a dark storm inside his eyes, felt the blue flame of him, shimmering, flare up with discomfort. Oh, no FUCKING way, she heard his thought, and slid her fingers down his arm, soothing him with her touch. It doesn’t matter, baby, I’m here. We’re together. Let them try to get between us. Let her try. Let anyone.

“Why would you be calling me anyway, Marissa?” Duncan was gazing at her evenly, still holding Kenzie close, his hand drifting in her hair, over the rosebuds. Kenzie could feel the wave of anger in him, feel the drifting measure of dislike. She’s lovely on the outside, Kenzie thought, but inside there is something gone, like it was ripped out of her and only the ragged void remains, a void she longs to fill but cannot. Poor Marissa. She instantly felt empathy for the other woman, seeing her so closely, felt embarrassed for her, as if Marissa were suddenly naked. As lovely as the actress was, Kenzie could immediately see how deeply discontent she was, how full of voracious need.

“Well, we never really finished what we started, now did we?” Marissa stepped forward, the smile that had been plastered faltering a little, her eyes skirting to Kenzie with annoyance, her hand snatching out, attempting to grasp his velvety arm. Duncan stepped out of her reach, pulling Kenzie to the side with him, his mouth curling up ever-so-slightly.

“And we never will. Marissa, this is my girlfriend--my partner--Mackenzie Stone. I’m sure you’ve read about her. Kenzie, this is Marissa Montague.”

“Of course,” and Kenzie forced herself to smile politely, bringing out a hand, Duncan’s cheek pressing against her hair, refusing to let go of her or let Marissa near him. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Marissa ignored the hand, crossing her arms now, barking out a little laugh.

“Partner,” she mimicked. “Since when have you ever had a partner, Duncan? We all know your reputation. You used to bring a different fuck buddy home every night, I was there back then, when we were all hanging around with the Ducatis and doing a mountain of cocaine every day.” Marissa plastered the grin back on her face. “I can see why you’re stringing this one along, though, what a scrumptious little pussy cat.” Marissa brought her hands up to her face and pressed them in a V against her mouth, flicking her tongue out.

This woman has no interest in sex, Kenzie knew, despite Marissa’s lewd gesture. Marissa’s eyes flicked over to her again with a measure of loathing, and Kenzie caught her gaze this time, trapping Marissa’s dark, intense eyes. In fact, it disgusts and bores her. But she is practiced at the art of pretending. She’ll fake interest in anything if she thinks it can move her to where she thinks she wants to be. Sometimes, though, she’s disillusioned by the reality versus her expectation. And she always wants more. Like a wind that howls endlessly.

“Marissa. What do you want?” Duncan’s tone dipped, and Kenzie could feel his anger beginning to stir, his frustration and lust for her pressing against the anger, kindling it further, his sorrow and disillusionment with his mother pressing there too, and his energy became ragged and chaotic, the turmoil in him suddenly like water boiling over. She concentrated, conjuring wave after wave of translucent gold in her mind, staring at Marissa evenly as she pressed them down over him in his arms. I have no animosity in my heart for you, she thought to the other woman. In fact, I feel acute sympathy for you. I’m sorry you’re trapped in a world where you cannot possibly be yourself.

“I want you to ditch this penniless, raggedy bitch, Duncan. What are you doing? I mean, who even is she? Do you realize what you’re doing to your reputation? Really, it’s embarrassing.” Marissa was rolling her eyes, fingers toying with the huge diamond at her neck, another mirthless laugh barking out of her. “I’m gonna go do a line in the bathroom, and you should join me. I mean, it’s silly that we stopped seeing each other. I’m willing to forgive you if you’ll just get rid of her.”

“Marissa. You’re embarrassing yourself right now. Please, go away. Immediately.” Duncan’s tone was quiet and very low. “Go away or I’ll have you escorted off the premises.”

Marissa scoffed. “Duncan Shepherd, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Marissa.”

Kenzie had been watching from the cocoon of Duncan’s arms, but a hot, blinding energy had been building behind her temples for the last few minutes, one that seemed to want to burst from her mouth and her eyes and the corners of her fingertips; seemed alive and impatient, shot through with sunlight, and the power of the energy, the feeling in the center of her belly, was immense, like the dream where she’d made the fire grow. The energy, Kenzie knew, could do whatever she willed it to do--could move objects, could stop them, could distort the air, could freeze it, could move unseeable things, reverse them, rewind them. The knowledge of the immensity of the energy overwhelmed her for a moment--and Kenzie felt sure that though this woman had some strange power of her own (it was like indigo, the color of her, like indigo that ached, and the thing Marissa ached for was a thing she couldn’t find, like a lost portion of her heart that had tumbled down a dark well, never to be retrieved from the depths again), Kenzie was calm in the certainty that hers was greater, because it was lighter, it was the gold that could move all things, the gold that could heal, and the gold that could shield from all darkness.

“Marissa,” Kenzie said again, focusing her eyes inside the other woman’s. “It’s over. You will not be able to move him again. You must stop now. It’s futile.” The world has shifted, she thought now, into Marissa’s wide brown eyes, the words clear in her mind, as if she’d read them in an ancient book. The path is set. Yours goes somewhere else. To attempt to alter our destiny--the High Destiny--will result in your personal destruction. Stop now, little one.

The air seemed to cool, to thin. The three of them were inside the energy now; the energy that had come from the center of Kenzie, that she had somehow pressed out, controlled, to only the cocoon of their circle. The other guests seemed to drift past them as if in a dream, not glancing at them, as if they didn’t see the cocoon at all, as if she, Duncan and Marissa were suddenly invisible--it’s working, Kenzie thought. Let’s see if I can move her away from us now.

Marissa’s expression had fallen from the obscene, mocking smile to one of confusion and apprehension--her eyes widened, her head whipping back and forth inside the cocoon Kenzie had created around them, and she seemed utterly bewildered.

“What the fuck,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Marissa, I’m sorry. I can see how cold you’ve felt, and for so long. Good luck on your path. Look for something that won’t harm others. Look for something to protect. I promise, if you can find that, you will be happy someday. Go now. Forget about Duncan. That’s all over. He is not yours, not at this time, and not in any time.”

And with those words spoken, Kenzie pushed Marissa out of the cocoon she had built, and Marissa turned, as if in a dream, and walked away from them, not looking back, her blonde hair and tulle skirt retreating until she had turned the corner of the vast parlor beyond, and they could no longer see her. Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, counted. As she did, she could hear her heart beating frantically, feel the tiny shaking in Duncan’s arms as he held her, His face had pressed against her temple again, his eyes closed, and he looked almost meditative, but Kenzie could feel the confusion inside him; he doesn’t understand what I did, either. But he trusts me. He trusts me now. He knows I’d never hurt him, never, never in this world. He knows I will always protect him. And I will, baby. I always will.

Then she breathed out, and the spell broke; the cocoon dissipated, and they were back in the foyer of the Shepherd mansion, the sounds of clinking glasses, lilting piano music, and blue-blooded voices speaking in polite cadences bleeding back into the background. Duncan opened his eyes to stare into hers, and the storms there had dissipated--their blue was calm now, like the sky bleeding into a summer evening, like the moon’s reflection on a pool of water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?”

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eolian-234 · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Twenty-three

Someone to Care

Chapter Twenty-two

Summary: What happens when everyone makes an assumption about their friendly neighborhood spider?

The situation bugged her the whole day. Her eyes were drawn to Flash’s dark hair again and again but nothing was noticeably different than his unkemptness she observed in the hallway. The lunchroom was as crowded as ever but from her vantage point she could see Flash sitting in the same place he sat every day. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes but Peyton wasn’t sure if that was just her projecting the rumors onto him. The surveillance continued throughout the day and by the time social studies rolled around she was resigned to talking to him to get her answers.

Instead of stalling outside of the classroom like she normally did, today she marched right in and took her seat. The bell hadn’t rung yet and the classroom was basically empty besides a few people from the class before still meandering about. Her pen moved across her notebook, as she got lost in the forest that was her thoughts. The table shook and a noise startled her back into the room. A pile of books sat in front of her and Mackenzie was leaning over them. The girl’s narrowed eyes were trained on her face.

“You’re unbelievable, Parker.” Peyton’s mouth opened to protest but the girl kept talking. “I always knew you were a screw up and isn’t it ironic that you actually proved me right?”

“What are you talking about, Mackenzie?” She made her voice low and even in hopes intimidating Mackenzie a smidge.

“We had plans, Parker. You know the ones that you agreed to? I won’t be working with someone who won’t pull their weight.” A flutter settled over her stomach as she realized what the girl was talking about. She shifted her weight back and forth on the chair and tucked her hands under her thighs. Just as she was going to say something Mackenzie flipped her hair over to rest on her back and smiled over Peyton’s shoulder.

Flash walked into the classroom with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets before sliding into his seat. Peyton expected that he wouldn’t make eye contact with her but was surprised when his eyes never met Mackenzie’s either. Some part of her was happy to see a frown on the girl’s face but she squashed the petty feeling away. Mackenzie’s eyes shifted from Flash to her and the narrow appraisal was back. She leaned over the stack of books toward Peyton again.

“I won’t hesitate in telling Mr. Ridermark about it if you don’t step up your game. We all know you can’t afford to be here so if you get in trouble you’re done.” Peyton swallowed, her courage failing as she gazed at the girl brimming with confidence. There wasn’t anything she could say to contradict it either. Mr. Ridermark liked Mackenzie way better than her and she really couldn’t afford to get in trouble.

“Knock it of, Kenzie,” Flash said. His eyes never left his phone screen and Peyton did a double take his expression to make sure she heard correctly. Mackenzie’s dropped jaw mirrored her own and they both looked at each other in mutual surprise before Mackenzie remembered she was supposed to be upset.

“Flash, she’s the one that left us at the library to work on our project. We both have enough going on that we aren’t going to get stuck with all the work.”

“Nobody wants to hear you complain. Yeah, it was lame but I’m sure she has a good excuse and won’t do it in the future.” Mackenzie lingered on him a second before sighing and sitting down in her chair. She pulled her notebooks, pencil, and eraser out placing them neatly on her desk before catching Peyton staring at her. At once Peyton busied herself with her own notebook and failed to notice Flash’s eyes surreptitiously looking at her. After she flipped away from the page she doodled on Peyton sighed and spoke just loud enough for her two partners to hear.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up for the project. I know it’s not much of an excuse but I got tied up. If you guys catch me up on what we worked on, I’ll get to work on the rest.”

“See, it was an accident, Mackenzie.” Flash spoke before the other girl could start criticizing her again. Mackenzie crossed her arms in front of her as her eyes burned into Flash. He sat there unperturbed and Peyton’s pity almost eclipsed her curiosity. Almost.

Class dragged on and at a break they rescheduled a time to work on the project, giving her enough time to work on what she missed. Peyton would have to shorten her time with Mr. Stark that Saturday but when she saw Mackenzie’s raised eyebrow over her hesitation, she accepted right away.

She planned it all out. The bell would ring and Peyton would make up some excuse to get Flash alone so she could talk to him. Or maybe it would be better to do it outside of school? In the back of her mind she knew it wasn’t any of her business but the snoop in her wanted to know.

The bell rang out, interrupting Mr. Ridermark mid-lecture and before Peyton had a chance to stop Flash he was out the door. Shoving all her books into her backpack as she walked, Peyton left the classroom hoping to catch up to him. She spotted his backpack between the groups of people and weaved through the procession to follow it.

She missed Ned’s wave and zoomed out of the building, still following the boy. Flash halted at the bottom of the stairs and Peyton thought he might be waiting for his driver to pick him up. She couldn’t count the number of times he taunted her about taking the subway to and from school. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and she stood at the top staring down. Instead of waiting there he looked around and continued past the school boundaries.

Ten feet behind was the amount of space she decided was acceptable in her quest. There was no reason for him to find her out now and get upset before she could properly confront him. All she wanted to do was collect some intelligence on the situation. The two walked quickly through the busy sidewalks and past the various vendors. Flash’s head routinely rotated around and behind him as if he was worried someone would follow him. He would’ve been right to worry and Peyton felt creepy trailing him so far.

Peyton wasn’t all that surprised when he swerved down the stairs and descended into the subway platform. It looked like at least some aspect of the rumors were true if Flash was using the subway to get home now. Her feet stood on top of the metal grates as a blast of air swept over her. She glanced at her watch to judge if there was enough time to follow him the rest of the way. If she did she would end up being late for her day with Mr. Stark. After weighing the pros and cons she decided that she felt creepy enough and didn’t want to be late. Flash disappeared into the crowd and she boarded another car to take her closer to Stark Towers.

The subway ride flew by and soon enough she was swiping her ID card at the front desk. After wishing Rob, who was always nice to her, a good day she rode the elevator up almost used to the fact that she was at home in the building.

“Hello, Peyton. Tony has asked me to tell you that he will be late today but to get started in the lab.” Friday’s voice was clinical but Peyton thought she heard a bit of warmth in it during the greeting. Maybe it was wishful thinking but she hoped the AI liked her.

“Thank you Friday. Hope your day is going well.”

“It is. Yours as well.” Peyton smiled up, thankful that she could talk to Friday if needed. The elevators opened and the lab in all its beauty beckoned her forward.

It was only after talking with Miss Potts one evening that she realized how unusual it was for him to let people into his lab. Mr. Stark fell asleep on the couch when the three of them watched a movie during her convalesce at the Tower. She never thought anything of it because that was where they always worked ever since the beginning, but when Miss Potts started asking her questions about their latest project. Peyton mentioned something some equipment, making sure to steer away for the subject of Spidergirl, Miss Potts smiled shrewdly.

“You know, Peyton. The building only has one of those machines.” Peyton fidgeted with her long sleeves.

“Oh, yeah?” She wasn’t sure what the point of that statement was. Maybe Miss Potts wanted her to be careful? She shouldn’t worry about that because Peyton didn’t do anything dangerous without Mr. Stark’s supervision. He ingrained the safety rules in her siting that he had to many accidents with only Dum-E for help afterwards.

“Yes. In fact, Tony made it himself. It’s only one of a few in the world. I’m glad that Tony trusts you enough to use it.” Peyton mumbled her agreement under her voice but was stunned. “Not many people see, let alone work inside Tony’s lab and live to tell the tale.” Miss Potts laughed at her joke and Mr. Stark woke from the sound.

He took in her thoughtful expression and asked if she was all right. After some reassurance he smiled and ruffled her hair. The thought never occurred to her that it was a big deal they worked in their lab. She couldn’t imagine working anywhere else with him. It was one of the reasons she tried so hard to get back down there after they found her. Why it was so urgent for her to work in the lab like normal.

From that conversation forward working there meant even more to her. All the shiny tools, posters, Dum-E, and Mr. Stark weren’t just cool but they made it a home away from home. They made it her sanctuary. Warmth bloomed in her chest at the thought of Mr. Stark trusting her to work in his private setting.

Today the lab was quiet. Only Dum-E was gliding around the floor humming a tune she didn’t recognize. She forced herself to walk straight into the room and focused on breathing even.

“Hi Dum!” She loudly whispered when he came in view. The robot spun around, narrowly missing a stack of papers at her announcement. It hummed a high pitch and started toward her.

They met in the middle of the room and did their hand shake. It had grown overtime and now even involved some words. At the end they, well, she would yell “Go team” and Dum-E would hum. When Mr. Stark first heard he assumed it was team Iron Man but they quickly corrected his thinking and assured him it was their own team: very classified. Peyton smiled and set her bag down on one of the new chairs still relieved that Mr. Stark bought them. She tried not to glance at the walls and busied herself with grabbing her books thinking of homework she could do while she waited. Without looking up she began reading.

Dum-E was moving about the room making little noises that broke through her reading momentum. She knew that the robot was just minding his business but with every sound echoing through the room her skin would itch and her arm hair would stand on end. She wished Mr. Stark would hurry up. Another small noise had her on the edge of her seat, her leg bouncing up and down. Why didn’t she think to wait somewhere else?

The sound of glass breaking interrupted her concentration and she tensed her muscles. The tinkling of the scattered pieces had her sighing and she set her book aside. With shaky legs she saw that the robot was in a part of the lab she had never explored before. There were two rooms that branched off of this part. One was a snack room, which was a kitchenette that was stocked with granola bars and protein shakes. The other was further down the wall and she never saw it before. Peyton found her friend, broom in claw, trying to sweep up the glass.

“Now, what have you gotten yourself into?” She said with a smile. Crouching down brought her eye level with him and she took the broom from the claw. Dum-E held the dustpan and she swept the pieces so together they cleaned up the glass.

Peyton glanced over at the mystery room. The door was closed and the lights were off inside. Curiosity plucked her mind and she made sure that the main room was empty. Not letting herself think of a reason against exploring she reached out and grabbed the door handle. The cool metal lingered under her hand while she tested its feel. She wasn’t usually noisy but she didn’t want to stay in the lab any longer without Mr. Stark. It pulled down with ease and she held her breath as the door swung open.

Only the opening of the room was bathed in light and left the rest hidden for her imagination. Dum-E stared at her when she looked back at him.

“Well, Bud. Should I go in?” She took the hum as a yes and stepped deeper into the room.

The lights came on automatically and she was met with a sight she hadn’t expected. The walls were decorated with hundreds of colored papers. There was no order to any of it and the layers were thick and sporadic. Not an inch of the wall was showing through and the counters were cluttered with an assortment of objects. She spied some stuffed animals piled up in the corners and trophies lining the counters. Almost all of them were Iron Man or Avenger themed. Most peculiar were the pictures of people she didn’t recognize. The frames encased pictures of children and even some families.

Peyton was frozen until a nudge to the back of her shin made her move forward. Dum-E’s claw hung in the air and beckoned her further. Her eyes caressed the papers again. It was like a shrine with the amount of superhero objects in the room. Peyton didn’t think Mr. Stark would have a shrine built for himself, though. She snorted at the thought. Maybe it wasn’t so farfetched.

She unattached one of the more creative papers from the wall. This one was decorated with Iron Man along with other Avengers around him. It was from when they were still a team and she realized that it was a card. She opened it and her throat itched with emotion. The handwriting was large and uneven across the page. The crayon letters were ugly but the words they formed were the opposite. It was a thank you letter. Little Maria sent a letter to thank the Avengers for saving her and her family from the aliens that attacked New York.

The card remained in her hand while she went back to staring at all the other papers. They were all letters. Some had the same youthful handwriting with few words and good intentions, and others were pages of typed gratitude. They all told a varying story about how Iron Man came to their rescue. Time and again he was thanked for saving someone.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a distantly familiar drawing. The paper was near the top of the wall and she climbed up onto the counter to reach it. The paper was thin in her hand and she held both ends so it wouldn’t fold over. The drawing was worse than she remembered and she blushed at the awkward wording inside. Her name was scrawled across the bottom followed with what should have been an illegal amount of hearts. Why did he have all of these in here?

Her eyes didn’t leave her drawing as Dum-E hummed urgently. She waved him off trying to think of the answer to her question.

“Kid?” She whirled around clutching the card to her chest. Mr. Stark looked at her with a smirk. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was calling your name and you didn’t answer.”

“I was just, the door was unlocked and that is… Dum-E made me come in here.” She said eyeing the robot who gave an indignant noise and hid behind the door.

“I told you to watch out for him. He’s always getting people into trouble.” The sound of him retreating and consequently knocking into something made them both laugh.

“Mr. Stark, I never pegged you for one to make a monument of yourself.” Her voice was light in sarcasm. Peyton didn’t want to pry but it was a curious day.

He smiled at her gentle teasing but walked past her and ran his hand over the papers taped to the wall. His arm was strong but Peyton noticed a slight tremble in his fingers.

“Mr. Stark?” She didn’t want him to think she was making fun or anything. He didn’t turn around but continued to observe the colors.

“It started out as a reminder. In the beginning it felt like Iron Man against the world and I was…alone. Then all these letters arrived and I couldn’t just throw them away. Someone took the time to send these letters to thankme. It made it all worth it.” He picked up one of the picture frames. “All their beautiful families still whole after horrible events. It makes everything that we go through worth it.” The papers rustled and Peyton stared at his back. His muscles tensed and relaxed as he moved. For the first time Peyton realized that under everything Iron Man was a man. Yes, he was her hero and a billionaire and a genius, but he was also a person, like her, who needed to be reminded that he was doing the right thing.

He came up beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Her head leaned over naturally to fit against his arm.

“I-I think I understand.” He moved away and looked at her face before tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

“I know you do, kid.”

He plucked the yellow paper out her hands and ran his fingers along the folded edge before opening it. Her eyes scanned his face, waiting to see if he would understand. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly and a cocky grin stole across his face.

“Well, well, well. Someone has been an Iron Man fan since day one. I knew there was a reason you acted all cool and suave on the roof the first time we met. You didn’t want me to know what a groupie you were.” Peyton smacked him on the arm, restraining her muscles a bit, and he mocked being hurt.

“I was young, Mr. Stark! And, and you saved me….”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear the rest?” He spoke still grinning.

“I just said that it was a big deal okay?” Her voice died down after that. “I can’t believe you still have it. I just assumed that some secretary would throw it away.”

Her eyes closed halfway as she stared at the card. The terror she felt that day whispered over her skin but the solid metal arms that picked her up and carried her from harm came to her memory with ease. He saved her then and he saved her again. He and Nat found her in that cold grey room and took her away to safety.

She looked back at him to find him staring at the drawing on the front, his hands delicately holding it around the edges and a small, funny smile adorning his face.

“Mr. Stark?” She whispered now. His eyes lifted away to look at her. “I- thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for saving me.”

His eyes softened and she looked away. She couldn’t say anymore but hoped he knew that she wasn’t just talking about the expo. He didn’t say anything but nodded seriously. Peyton wrapped her arms around him and smiled when she felt his arms tighten around her.

The next time she was in the lab a burst of yellow caught her eye. She walked over to find her card framed and hanging on the wall in the middle of a row of awards he received.

Thank you!

Chapter Twenty-four

#spiderman fanfiction #peyton parker #female peter parker #peter is female #marvel fic #AO3 fanfic #fanfiction #spiderman #writing #my writing #eliza writes #someone to care #irondad #spiderson #irondad fanfiction

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spnfanficpond · 7 years ago

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February Angel Fish Awards

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

Unlike the BFAs, our new monthly awards will be peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE FEBRUARY’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Hell’s My Heaven (oneshot) by @lucifer-in-leather

This one is super short, but delivers on the angst! I’m a slut for pain, and this hurt in the best way. I’ve always had a soft spot for Lucifer falling for a human, and Rae doles that out with that a brilliant, beautiful, heartbreaking twist in the story. - @manawhaat

Roadside Service (oneshot/possible series) by @samsexualdeancurious

Ya know who’s really good at smutting things up? Kenzi is! This shit is super fuckin’ sexy, just covers all the good, kinky but not too kinky bases, and delivers a great Dean fic where you can feel it all the way through you. I talked to her about doing a second part, but I’m not sure if she’s actually writing it or not...perhaps a little feedback can pursuade her? ;) - "

Sharing Is Caring (oneshot) by @saxxxology

Spoilers ahead! Here we have a Claire x Kaia fic that’s nothing but soft and sweet and beautiful. Saxxy highlights an almost vulnerable side of Claire that was incredibly refreshing to read. I got the shippy vibes watching their episode and this fic is a really good intersect between fanfic and actual canon because the way it’s written is so believable for both characters. It feels natural and makes sense with who they are, how they feel, and how they’d react to each other if the show had actually put them into this situation. Super lovely and really short for those not sure they’re into this ship, yet. - "

A Different Set of Rules (oneshot) by @blacktithe7

-Nominated by both Mana and Kari-

This story is a great example of a few things. It takes the unfair, misogynistic, sexist world that we live in and simplifies it down into an example that, sadly, I’m sure many young girls experience on the daily. It sucks, but Erin did a great job making that idea into something small we can focus on. This fic is very simple in the way of writing, but it’s a beautiful balance for the heavy tone and sullen idea discussed within it. Erin also highlights and beautifully displays the grace, intuition, patience, and strength Danneel has as a mother/woman/person, and I just strongly rec this one to every member of the SPN Family. - Mana

__________ This was painful to read because I don’t doubt for a second this happen every day all over the world. Boys and girls aren’t treated alike. For that to change we need amazing moms like Danneel that teach their kids that grown ups can be wrong. This fic is truly beautiful even if it hurts to read. - Kari

Shower Meals (oneshot) by @winchester-writes

I adore Rosie but she is a weirdo 😂 The conversation that lead up to this was crazy. The fic is amazing and sweet. Just like the author. If you need a good laugh this is the fic for you. - @thing-you-do-with-that-thing

Emergency Services (series) by @mysupernaturalfics

First I got a thing for firefighter!dean and join that with Daddy!dean and I am dead. This series has so many spn characters. All are written amazingly well. It’s a little ball of happiness and fluff. I adore this drabble verse. - "

I’ll Never Stop (oneshot) by @torn-and-frayed

Steph is the queen of angst and plot twists that will shatter your heart. This fic is so beautifully written that you can’t not love her even if she broke you. Read it and cry with me. - "

Gypsy Girl (series) by @wi-deangirl77

This story had me hooked within 30 seconds. I’m not as likely to read a Sam centric fic as I am a Dean centric fic but the summary intrigued me. The originality of the story line, of the characters was so creative and unlike anything I’ve read before. By the time I got to the third paragraph I was a goner, completely hooked. And by the time I got through chapter 1, Sam had me wrapped around his finger and I wasn’t about to let go. This story is full of highs and lows, that are beautifully written. It’s a roller-coaster of the best kind and I highly recommend you check it out. - @babypieandwhiskey

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

As with the BFAs, these are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#spnfanficpond #supernatural fanfic #spn fic rec #afas #spnclanntag #afa masterlist

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thelittlestkitsune · 7 years ago

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Mid Semester; chapter two.

A/N; This chapter is trash, so I do apologise. I hope you guys enjoy the surprise guest. ;) Enjoy! Love Lau xoxo

Pairing: ScottMccallxProfessor!Reader

Author: thelittlestkitsune

Warnings: none. for now.

Word count: 4,083

Listen to me. Mid Semester Masterlist Let me know?

WEDNESDAY.

“Are you guys comfortable?” You asked as your students looked back at you, dumbfounded at your question. “You guys got snacks?” You asked another question as brows knitted over eyes, chatter of what the fuck is going on as you sank into your chair, pulling it in front of your desk. “‘Cause it’s rant time. You know this is my favourite part of the week.” You chuckled as they all breathed a sigh of relief, the chatter dying down until silence lay heavily over the room. You pretended to crack your neck, a slight shudder rippling through the students as you sat back against the pleather seat. “Can anyone guess what I’m bitching about this week?” You threw the question out there as you waited for someone to bite. “Student loans?” Audrey, the quiet girl in the back row spoke, her eyes avoiding yours as you shook your head. “I mean that’s a whole different pot of tea. But any other guesses?” A chorus of concentrated humming washed through the room as you got yourself comfy in your seat, wrapping your scarf around your shoulders.

“The government.” Audrey tried again, her voice clearer this time. Nice of you to finally join in the conversations. Good for you boo. A smile played on your lips as you shook your head, her hands falling flat against the wooden desk as she sighed. “Okay but surely you have complaints, I mean the way the president-” Cat started before quickly stopping, taking a steadying breath as she plastered a fake smile on her pink cheeks. “-Never mind, this isn’t the place to talk politics.” She sighed, her breath shaky as you gave her a small nod, her cap flopping back down over her eyes as she slid down her chair further. “So what are you going to bitch about?” Maddie asked, her hair bouncing around her face as she turned back to you. “Well none other than our buddy, our pal, the massive cockend that is Zeus.” A collective cheer vibrated through everyone as you smiled, enjoying when you could teach through pure hatred of a certain myth. “What did he do this time?” Kenzie asked, her elbows leaning on her desk as she propped herself on one arm. “Oh honey, you’ve got a storm coming.” You started, before launching into “WHY ZEUS IS THE WORST PART TWO.”

“-And that’s why Zeus is the biggest fuckhead in history. Mythological or not, he shaped alot of pop culture these days.” You finished, taking a moment as you let everyone jot down notes. “Wait, lemme get this straight-” Cat started, pulling the cap from her head as she ran manicured fingers over her forehead, her green eyes pooling with confusion. “-So, Zeus decided to test this nefarious daddy Lycaon by visiting him looking like a homeless dude? The dude with 50 sons? And when Lycaon literally straight up murdered his own son and fed it to Zeus he got hella pissed and turned Lycaon into a wolf?” You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you stretched, standing up from your seat. “In not so many words yeah!” You summised, your head cocking to the side as you processed the information. “Now not to be a traitor in this class or anything? But like, doesn’t lycaon sound like the fucking worst?” Kenzie piped up, her lips caught between her teeth as you turned sharply. “Look, I have so much to cover about Zeus that Lycaon? Kinda looks like a martyr, a saint, the best pal a gal could have until he knocked her up!” You laughed as half the class snorted in reply.

“Why are we even talking about Zeus again? Doesn’t the syllabus say that we should be discussing werewolves?” Todd piped up as you scowled at him. “You need to know the history. God, do you have no flair for the dramatic, I was building to it. You ruined it now.” You faked anger as you turned to the board, revealing your masterpiece. Art class paid off. A full size werewolf head graced the blackboard as you brandished towards your works. “This is being dramatic. Ladies and gentlemen, hold onto your butts, we’re diving into the shit show myth that is-” You mocked a drum roll on your desk, holding your breath for even more dramatic effect. “-Werewolves.” Laughter echoed through the small room as you stood up straight, taking your scarf off from around your shoulders, the room warmer than it was when class began. “What kind of werewolves are we talking about? The pop culture ones or the scary old wives tale?” Kenzie asked as she chewed on the tip of her pen, your shoulders shrugging as you perched on your cluttered desk.

“Well that’s the thing. We’re going to talk about both and do a comparison between the tales of yonder and the effect they have on our pop culture today.” You explained, lacing your fingers together over your knee. “So, we’re talking little red riding hood and twilight?” Em asked, speaking up for the first time in a while. Her eyes flickered between you and her notes as you nodded. “Yeah, well the myth surrounding werewolves goes a bit further than the Grimm brothers. We’re going to explore 4 myths associated with shape shifters; from the Armenians to the Slavic to the French. Of course we’re going to discuss the greeks though. Let’s start with the Armenians; you know, the ones who thought women that sinned were forced to walk as a wolf for seven days and seven nights. Not like they already had enough to deal with-”

THURSDAY.

“Cami, where are you? I thought you wanted to meet for coffee? I only have so long before I need to be at my office?” You spoke into the receiver of your phone, balancing it on your shoulder as you scribbled in your notepad. “I won’t be long, I’m like not even two minutes out?” She breezed, a smile in her voice. “Tell me you’re not coming straight from a meeting with Thomas. We all know what those meetings entail!” You laughed as you doodled in the margins, your thoughts distracted once more. “Shut up you, you wish you were taking meetings.” You could almost hear the air quotations as she giggled. “Low blow, that’s cold. You owe me a coffee for that.” You joked, a small frown on your lips as she clicked off the call, leaving you to your devices. You stared at the stack of papers in front of you as you sat in the student coffee house, soft music playing as people chattered around you. “Excuse me, can I borrow this seat a moment?” a dark voice interrupted you, a familiar face coming into view.

You turned, your mouth hanging open in shock as you gaped, words catching in your throat. “Derek?!” His name finally escaped your lips as you recognised the green eyed guy in front of you, his face much unchanged in the past 6 years since you saw him last. “What are you doing here?!” Derek asked, his fingers still gripping the seat next to yours as he flashed his oh so famous smile. “I’m a professor; believe it or not!” You laughed, tucking your frizzy hair behind your ears as you smiled. His lips mimicked your own as he nodded, pulling the chair out before sitting in it, his tall frame barely fitting in the plastic chair. “I don’t believe that for a moment. I’m just here visiting an old friend and you’re here. What kind of fate is that?” His eyes twinkled as you swallowed dryly, forgetting what a beauty he was. “A twisted sense of fate. 26 years old and still in college, I mean I teach it-” You laughed, looking down at all the papers you had to grade.

“Yeah, well at least you went!” He joked, his hands running through his thick dark hair. “Look, I’m gonna be in town for a while, staying with my friend, I was wondering if you wanted to get a coffee-” He paused, licking his lips as he looked over you, his eyes lingering on your open shirt for a second too long. “-or dinner sometime. I’ll give you my number, I finally caved and joined society. Gimme a call and we’ll sort something out okay?” He stared at you as you nodded meekly, his lips curling into a smile as he stood. “It was really good seeing you y/n, catch you later.” He winked as you pressed your lips together, trying to stop them from gaping open. “See you later Derek.” You waved shyly, looking over his handwriting as you heard a seat nearby scratch over wooden flooring. “Who in the hell was that?!” Cami exclaimed as she fell into the seat, her hair bouncing as she caught her breath. “An old friend. I’ve known him since middle school, I never thought I’d see him again, he kinda fell off the map when we got to high school.” You stared at the spot he’d sat in as you tapped your fingers on the table in front of you.

“You don’t just drop off the map if you look like that.” She dropped her phone into her open bag, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she pressed forwards. “You got his number right? Y/N you’d be crazy not to get his number.” She babbled as you nodded, pointing to his scrawl on your notepad. “You need to ring him right now and set up a date. Right now, cause honey if you don’t then I will.” She demanded as you stuck your hands up in protest. “Look I can’t date right now?! I have too much to do!” You tried to defend yourself as her arms crossed across her chest, her brow quirked high above her hazel eyes. “You were complaining about not getting enough dick like last week?” You burst into laughter at her blunt comment, strangers turning to look at the noise that just erupted from your mouth. “Thanks for telling the world I’m sexually starved Cami, it’s just what everyone wanted to hear.” You sniffed, holding back chuckles as she gave you a shy smile. “What? It’s true! Let’s be honest, he looks like he’s hung like a horse.” She mocked a scale, her hands getting further and further apart as you shook your head and laughed. “I don’t think Derek likes me like that.” You smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear again as you looked at the number once again.

“Well then he’s blind. Certifiably insane. Lock him away. In a sex dungeon of course.” she winked as you laughed, your lungs aching as you looked at her. “What would I do without you?” You smiled, looking at one of your best friends. “I dunno, die probably. Pay for your own coffee? Speaking of-” She trailed off, standing to her feet as she grabbed her purse heading off to order the two of you coffee. Maybe I should date? Might stop me being so distracted by certain guys that are so off limits it’s stupid. You gripped your pen in your hand as you searched your coat pocket for your phone, typing in Derek’s number. I’ll just send him a message, tell him it was great bumping into each other. You drafted the message, Cami interrupting you before you could send it. “So, what’s this I hear about you having boy troubles?” Cami’s words brought you hurtling back to reality as you let your phone fall from your hands.

“Ugh, I guess Mal told you about Scott.” She nodded as she handed you a latte, her eyes sympathetic as she bundled herself into the small chair. “She did, we’re worried about you!” You smiled, your lip caught between your teeth as you thought of your situation. “It’s just so complicated, but it’s also so fucking simple. I feel so stupid even thinking that I could just do this job and there would be no complications.” You sighed, circling over the rim of your mug. “Before you judge me, I know I shouldn’t pursue it. I won’t because it’d be mortifying! He’s not interested in me. Maybe he is but he doesn’t show it at least-” You rambled, your mood plummeting as you dreaded your tutoring session in a few hours. “Y/N, stop it. I’m not judging you for it. You really think you’re the first person that wants one of their students?” She spoke quietly, the din of the coffee house muffling her words as she leaned closer. “You know Thomas was a student just a couple of months ago?” She admitted as you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“You two have been dating for like a year?!” She looked at you as you processed what she told you. “Cami! You didn’t!” You mock slapped her arm as she leaned back a small smile on her face. “I did. I regret nothing. Fuck it, you’re young and he’s hot! I say go for it. I mean what have you got to lose?” She asked, picking up her mug as she sipped at the piping hot liquid. “I mean nothing but my morality, my job, any sense of dignity I had.” You joked, cupping your mug as you sighed. “As I said, he’s not into me that way. I’m just his professor.” She laughed, her head tipping back as the noise carried through the small room. “Yeah, cause guys don’t have teacher fantasies. You’re so naive; it’s like you’ve never seen any porn. Ever. So sheltered. Either way, it’s set okay? If he shows he likes you, go ahead and ask him out. Discreetly of course, if not then you have to leave your options open.” Her eyes connected with yours as you nodded, knowing there was no way you could argue with her. “Fine, you win. If he shows any interest then I’ll ask him out.”

LATER ON THAT DAY.

A knocking on your door pulled you from your slumped position at your desk, your eyes streaming as you tore your eyes from your computer screen. “Come in!” You called, readjusting yourself as Scott walked through the door, a smile plastered on his cheeks. “Hey Y/N!” He chimed as you smiled, inviting him to sit down. “Hey Scott, you got that good shit for me?” You asked as he nodded, digging through his bag for the album he’d promised to bring this week. You reached across the desk, your fingers brushing against his as you took the album from him, your touch lasting longer than it needed to be. “You know I always deliver!” He joked, a smile playing on his lips as you quirked your brow. “Oh is that so? If that’s true where’s your paper?” You asked as his eyes widened, a dry gulp echoing in the small room. “About that, um, would you mind if I had an extension?” He asked, his puppy dog eyes batting together as he smiled.

“Sure, you get a day! But only cause you get me the best albums.” A grin broke out over his face as he dug in his bag, looking for his trusted notepad and pen. “So, what treasured myth are we savaging today?” He asked, his pen gripped between his teeth as he continued to look for his notepad. “Werewolves.” You spoke triumphantly, excited to finally be covering the lesson with him. He paused, nervously licking over his lips as he sighed. “Werewolves?” He asked, a little hesitation in his words. “Yeah, do you believe in the myth?” You asked, turning the fan in the corner off as you shrugged off your cardigan. “I guess you could say that? It’s pretty common talk in my town.” He laughed, the noise awkward as he produced his notebook finally. “Where abouts do you come from Scott? I’m assuming Washington?” You asked, genuinely intrigued to know about him more.

“California actually, I’m from a town called Beacon Hills? It’s a couple of hours away, it’s quite small.” Your mouth dropped open at the coincidence as a laugh fell from your mouth. “Fuck all the way off. You’re joking right?” He looked at you with confusion in his eyes over your outburst. “Please tell me you’re joking. I mean I don’t believe in fate but this is too rich to even be real.” You continued to laugh, doubled over as you dry heaved, tears forming in your eyes. “What’s so funny? How is it fate?” He asked, worry crossing over his face as he surely thought you’d cracked and gone insane. “I’m from Paradise! It’s like a town over or something right? I went to Devenford back in the day.” You smiled as he leaned back in his chair, pen dropping from his mouth. “No fucking way.” He breathed as you grinned. Well that’s a strange turn of events. “So you know about Beacon Hills? Everything?” He eluded to something grander as he spoke. “I know what you’re hinting at Scott. Yeah I know the myth isn’t a myth. Why do you think I teach this shit? It’s easy to teach something so abstract that actually exists.”

Scott looked at you like a light had just been shone on you, his face glowing as his eyes tracked over you. A sigh left his parted lips as he flopped his arms down. “How do you know?” He asked, more intrigued with you as you shrugged. “It’s not exactly a secret. I knew of an alpha and his pack constantly saving the town from doing something or other. When the facts are laid out in front of you, you kind of have to add things together.” You knitted your fingers together as you twiddled your thumbs. Scott looked slightly pained, like something was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. “Do you know who the alpha was?” He hurried the words as you shook your head. “No clue, why? Do you?” He shook his head, tapping his foot as he looked at you. “My friends and I had an idea but-” His words caught in his throat as he stopped talking, looking at you with a glint in his eye. “Can you keep a secret?” He asked in a low hushed voice, his eyes darting about the room. “Yeah, I keep a lot of secrets. I have two best friends so that constantly keeps me on my toes.” You laughed as he stood up, heading over to your window as he shut the blinds, his posture straightening as he turned around. “Scott?” Your words were shaky as he turned, something different about him.

His eyes. Your eyes tracked over him, always returning to his usually brown eyes, however even in the low light of your office you could see them almost glow; red piercing through the dusty air. “You’re the alpha aren’t you?” Your words were a whisper as he blinked, the glow gone as he crossed the room, taking a seat opposite you once again. “Guilty as charged.” He admitted, his cheeks burning bright pink. “I thought you’d be scared of me cause i’m a monster or something and I trust you-” He rambled, his voice small as he looked downwards. “Why would I be scared? You saved Beacon Hills so many times from so many fucking things? You’re not a monster, and even if you are; not all monsters do monstrous things.” You reassured him as he gave you that sunshine smile, his eyes crinkling as he looked at you. “You’re not the first person that’s told me that.” His tongue darted over his lips as you found yourself reaching for his hands. “Well do you believe it?” You asked, your fingers finding callouses on his knuckles, your skin smoothing over his.

“I believe in a lot of things, I’ve met humans that are darker than the other side of the moon and I’ve met so called monsters that weren’t monsters at all.” His nose twitched as he scooted closer to you, his warmth radiating through you. This is risky. You caught your breath as his hands covered your own, his fingers tracing the lines on your palm as his head dipped. “Some people aren’t born with the monster inside of them, some are just so affected by others darkness that they slip into it themselves-” Something in his words felt off as you furrowed your brow. “I don’t know if you know of what happened a few years ago? The fights?” He looked at you as you shook your head, your lip caught between your teeth as you listened to him talk. “There was this woman. As ordinary as anyone out on the street; but she was pushed to her limit because of my friends and I. She lost her mind and announced war on everyone that was deemed to be unnatural or as she called us mon-” He choked on the words, tears welling in his eyes. “Monsters?” You finished for him, your skin leaving his as he nodded. “Her name was Monroe, she’s the reason I didn’t come here years ago. She’s the business I had unfinished. If it weren’t for her I’d be a vet by now.”

“Well, that was in the past wasn’t it?” You asked as he nodded slowly, his head lifting as he smiled, unsure of himself. “Oh yes, the past can hurt. But from the way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it.” You quoted, his lips pulling back in a grin as he shook his head, a light laugh filling the air. “Did you seriously just quote Rafiki from the Lion King?” You nodded, biting back a laugh as he shook his head. “You’re awesome you know that right?” You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back in your chair. “Oh yeah, I’m aware.” You joked, your body jarring slightly as you fell sideways. Clutz. Scrambling to your feet you brushed yourself off, sitting back in your seat before clearing your throat. “Before we get into the actual lesson I just want to thank you for protecting Beacon Hills. I don’t think many people would thank you, but I want you to know that I’m grateful.” He gave you a half smile as he mouthed a thank you. “But that’s enough about werewolves, lets talk about, um shit, werewolves.” You laughed off your own stupidity before turning to your laptop. “Sure, sounds fake, who’d believe in something like that?” He joked as he settled back in his chair, one leg resting against the other as you stopped yourself staring. This is going to be one long semester.

AFTER THE SESSION

That was too close, you got too close. You sat at your desk long after Scott had gone, replaying the moment you had held his hand in your head. You’re making a mistake. You need to push him from your mind. You need a distraction. Before you knew it you were typing in Derek’s number, lifting the handset to your ear as blood rushed through your eardrums. It’s just a crush, crushes go away? Especially when they see you as nothing more than a friend.

“Hey Y/N? What’s up?” Derek spoke as you clammed up, instant regret pooling in your stomach. “It’s not too late for me to be calling is it?” You asked, your lungs flooding as you finally took a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I like the night time remember?” He breezed as you nodded, locking up your office for the night. “Oh yeah, how could I forget? Sorry, it’s been a really long day.” You rubbed over your tired eyes, trudging your way out of the building. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go for that coffee?” You asked him, your heart slamming against your chest as you waited for an answer. The question hung in the air for a beat before he spoke, his voice like silk through your speaker. “Sounds great Y/N. How about next thursday?” He asked as you thought over Scott, your resolution clear. “Sounds great, text me about it?” You spoke softly, barely audible over the wind. “You got it, goodnight Y/N” You huddled into your jacket as you clicked off the call, your mind racing a mile a moment.

I just need to get Scott off my mind.

Tag List:

@thisrandombitch @honeymoonmuke @sincerelystiles @sammyrenae68 @fillthevoid-stilinski @5sospoplikerock @lovefilledtragedy @ellie-bee242 @cobrienkai1972@dumbass-stilinski @maddie110201 @rememberstilinski @sweetmisseddreams2002@random-fandom-fangirl2112 @obrosey-af @sammwhiches @mf-despair-queen@7e6205 @stilinski-stydia-obrien @wydobrien @we-are-like-a-timebomb @dylan-trash-tbh @lydia1524 @minhosmeanhoe @redstringlovers @werewolfmutant @itsall-inmy-head @susybird @hirafth @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @girlwiththerubyslippers @fan-child @sarasmismyonlydefence @cuillere @vixsyncynco @sumcp@fuckwhateverfuck @itsbilescallmebiles @relentlessgame @ninja-stiles @sumcp@teenwolves-ahead @skepticalstilinski @sarcasticallystilinski @apollogirl13 @savage-stilinski @montanagirlatheart @alexhmak @cathobs @blairscott

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evenifyoudontfic · 8 years ago

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Even If You Don’t: Chapter 20

Previous chapter

Mari’s POV

“Where’s Luke?” I heard Zoe ask.

“Present and accounted for,” he announced as we walked back into my dressing room.

“There you are,” she breathed out, flicking her gaze between him and myself as he put me back on my feet, “Have you guys finished soundchecking?” I glanced up at Luke, but he didn’t even look at me.

“It’ll be fine, Zo,” he assured her, “It’s not like we don’t know the song.” I couldn’t help but snort softly, making him grin in response.

“Well, you know, since Mari’s taking the second verse, it’s not like Calum has to rack his brain to try and remember the words this time,” Kaylynn snickered. I laughed a little more loudly that time, leaving them to their conversation to go to the bathroom. By the time I came back out, Luke and Zoe had left and Gabrielle was now in their place.

“You girls all ready?” she asked, to which we obviously nodded. “Great,” she said, “You’re on in 20.”

30 minutes later

“Look at all these beautiful people!” Kenzie beamed as her eyes scanned the crowd while they screamed in response.

“Hey, Mar,” Vanessa said into her mic as she looked back at me, “Do you know any of them?”

“Ah, let me see,” I grabbed my own mic from its stand and got up to stand on top of my drum kit, “I know a lot of them, yeah.”

“Don’t you wanna say something to them?” Kaylynn asked, making me smile.

“Yeah! So since I’m sure you guys all know Indy is my hometown, I know there’s a lot of people I went to school with here tonight,” I announced, “And I just wanna say that this song is for you guys!” I couldn’t keep myself from grinning as the crowd cheered, clearly having no idea what song was coming up – or...maybe they did.

[Kenzie]

Dear whoever, do you remember? It's me, old whatshername Can't believe it, you ain't dreaming I don't look quite the same

But history repeats itself, I kept making a scene I kept raising hell, now they call me a queen And you're under my spell, so tell me how does it feel? Well...

[Kenzie, Vanessa, Kaylynn]

I'm looking down from the skyline Dancing on the moonlight Can you see my name in the stars? Yeah, I bet you won't forget me now

My voice on the air waves It's echoing louder and louder I bet you won't forget me now I bet you won't forget me now

[Vanessa]

Hey whoever, it's been forever I know you know my name I heard you’re still trying to steal my throne I guess some things never change

Always knew I'd make it out Live a life you dream about Now the world's in my hands According to plan

[Kenzie, Vanessa, Kaylynn]

I'm looking down from the skyline Dancing on the moonlight Can you see my name in the stars? Yeah, I bet you won't forget me now

My voice on the air waves It's echoing louder and louder I bet you won't forget me now I bet you won't forget me now

[Mari]

Said you were gonna run this town Now you get high and just drive around It didn't happen like you thought it would, yeah Hit me up like “Hope you're good And can you put me on the list tonight? And by the way, I got this clothing line” Trying to talk like we're old friends But you don't even know who I am

[Kenzie, Vanessa, Kaylynn]

I'm looking down from the skyline Dancing on the moonlight Can you see my name in the stars Yeah, I bet you won't forget me now

My voice on the air waves It's echoing louder and louder I bet you won't forget me now I bet you won't forget me now

I bet you won't forget me now I bet you won't forget me now

[Mari]

I bet you won't

Calum’s POV

Another 10 minutes passed and it was finally time for what we all had been preparing for all day. Mari was just sitting at her drum set as Kenzie introduced one last song – she didn’t seem suspicious of anything, which was exactly the way I wanted it.

“Since Mari wrote our last song of the night and this is a hometown show for her, we wanted her to do lead vocals,” Kenzie explained, “So we’re actually going to have Ash come out and play on this one. Is that cool?” The crowd cheered in response and Mari smiled slightly, getting up and stepping out from behind her drum kit. As Ashton passed her, he gave her a small smile, kissing the side of her head briefly before sitting in her chair while she made her way to Kenzie's microphone.

“Before we start this, I just want to say I’m sorry if I start crying,” Mari laughed shyly, her fingers gripping the middle of the mic stand, “This song does that to me.” She missed the rest of her band as well as the boys and I’s smiles as the girls started playing, eager to see her reaction to the plan.

Like a small boat on the ocean Sending big waves into motion Like how a single word Can make a heart open I might only have one match But I can make an explosion

And all those things I didn’t say Wrecking balls inside my brain I will scream them aloud tonight Can you hear my voice this time?

This is my fight song Take back my life song Prove I’m alright song My power’s turned on Starting right now, I’ll be strong I’ll play my fight song

And I don’t really care if nobody else believes ‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me

Losing friends and I’m chasing sleep Everybody’s worried ‘bout me In too deep, say I'm in too deep

And it’s been two years, I miss my home But there’s a fire burning in my bones Still believe, yeah, I still believe

And all of those things I didn’t say Wrecking balls inside my brain I will scream them aloud tonight Can you hear my voice this time?

This is my fight song Take back my life song Prove I’m alright song My power’s turned on Starting right now, I’ll be strong I’ll play my fight song

And I don't really care if nobody else believes ‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me A lot of fight left in me

Like a small boat on the ocean Sending big waves into motion Like how a single word Can make a heart open I might only have one match But I can make an explosion

It was then that Mari was made aware of my plans, watching the crowd hold pieces of paper in the air, each one with a different message written on it but the meaning all the same: Thank you for saving me.

Mari tried to continue singing – she tried so hard not to fall apart in the middle of that stage – but she just let go, knowing nothing she did was going to work. Her face was in her palms and her head was down, obviously already in tears.

Mari had once told me that when she joined this band, all she wanted to do was help people. She wanted to be their escape from their daily lives and their problems and she just wanted to make them happy. She was given a taste of that every single time a fan asked for a hug or a photo or an autograph, but I don’t think it ever truly hit her until now. Now that these people were in front of her – their signs in the air for her to read – it was real; They were alive and she was helping them stay that way.

The moment Mari stopped singing to cry, the other girls had completely planned on finishing the song for her. But when the entire venue began singing the words in unison, they simply settled with just stepping away from their mics, signaling for Ashton to stop playing, and mouthing along with the fans with smiles on their faces as they sang acapella.

This is my fight song Take back my life song Prove I'm alright song My power's turned on Starting right now, I'll be strong I'll play my fight song

And I don't really care if nobody else believes 'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me No, I've still got a lot of fight left in me

When the song was over, the crowd cheered at Mari’s reaction – some of them even crying as well. Their screams got louder as I came up behind her and snaked my arms around her waist. I held her for a moment, my face pressed to her neck as I kissed her skin softly every now and then.

“You see that, baby girl?” I murmured in her ear, “You did that – your band did that. You four are doing so much more than writing songs and making albums. You’re helping people see how special they are. You’re reminding them that they’re loved and cared for and worth it. You’re showing them the reasons they should keep living.”

I felt Mari let out a breath, a new wave of emotion hitting her. Tears began falling again as she turned around in my arms and wrapped her own around my torso, hugging me tightly.

idk how i feel about this one if i’m honest :/

Songs used: “Forget Me Now” by Against The Current “Fight Song” by Rachel Platten

inspiration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OldIZp3k-zU

Next chapter

#calum hood #5sos #evenifyoudontfic #calum hood fic #calum hood fanfic #calum fanfic #calum fic #5sos fanfic #5sos fan fiction #5sos fic #sounds live feels live #slfl

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herewegoagainniall · 5 years ago

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I’ll Love Her Still: Part 8 (Brian May x Female!Reader)

HOLY. SHIT.

I am so sorry this took me so long (whoever said senior year of college was easy was talking straight out of their ass), but here it IS! There’s a lot going on in this chapter, so I hope you guys like it!!

TAGLIST: @alittlepeoplemagic; @brianmayplease; @casafrass; @chlobo6; @d-illo; @delilahmay39; @exanderstreiching; @kenzie-belle; @killer-queen-xo; @kiwithekiwi; @maryfree; @moreinfinite; @readinghorn; @rogerscupboard; @thelegumemother

TRIGGERS: Lily makes a comment about Brian’s fingers because let’s face it you would too.

You sat on the amplifier, swinging your legs slightly as you watched Brian tune his guitar. This was one of the bigger shows of the tour, and you knew that he was nervous, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

When Brian had tuned the Red Special to his satisfaction, he brought his eyes to yours and smiled at you. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” you smiled when Brian blushed. Even after months, he just couldn’t hide his bashfulness when you complimented him.

Brian strummed the Red Special a couple of times, and then looked up at you. “Lily… do you think you could help me with something?”

“Sure,” you pushed yourself off of the amp so you were standing up. “What do you need?”

“Just listen to this and tell me what you think?” Brian moved his hands up the fretboard and strummed a chord. “Now I’m here, now I’m there,” he sang, “Just a new man, ‘cause you made me live again,” before launching into one of his incredible riffs. He stopped playing after the riff and looked up at you. “It’s still a little rough, bu-”

“It’s great, Brian,” you reassured him. “Really, it is. I love the riff!”

Brian shrugged. “It’s nothing, really.”

You walked up to him and stood on your tiptoes so you could whisper in his ear. “You’re good with your fingers, what can I say?”

Brian bit his lip and shook his head. “You’re incorrigible, woman.”

“And you’re beautiful,” you smiled back at him. “So what am I supposed to do?”

Brian dipped his head and kissed your lips. “I’ll tell you what you can do, Peaches,” he smirked. “You can watch me while I play for you.”

You giggled and nuzzled his cheek, pecking it. “You can’t JUST play for me, what about all those people in the audience who paid money to see you?”

“They’ll get what they want,” he grinned, his lips pressing against your temple. “But every move I make, every note I play, every smile I give? Is all,” he paused to peck your lips, “yours.”

You hummed happily as Brian tried to deepen the kiss, but you pushed him away. “Nobody’s going to get what they want unless you go join the others right now!” you laughed as you looked over your shoulder at Freddie, hands on his hips and foot tapping impatiently.

Brian rolled his eyes and gave your lips one final, tender kiss before he ran over to the other boys to do their little pre-show rituals. You smiled after him and returned to your previous position on the amplifier as the boys ran onto the stage. You’d seen the show enough times to know when you wanted to be at the side of the stage and when you could take a breather.

The night had been proceeding as normal, and Queen were a few songs into their set, when you heard someone clear their throat from behind you. “Mind if I join you?” a timid voice inquired.

You turned to see a young girl (she couldn’t have been older than nineteen) dressed in similar clothing to you. She wasn’t a full-fledged groupie- you could always tell the wannabes from the real thing. But she seemed sweet enough, so you smiled. “Sure,” you patted the space next to you.

The girl smiled and said, “Oh, thank you!” She pushed herself up next to you. “I’m Harmony,” she smiled as she held her hand out to you.

“Good song,” you smiled knowingly as you took her hand and shook it. “I’m Lily.”

Harmony smiled wide. “I was hoping someone would pick up on it! Not a lot of the girls use fake names anymore.”

You shook your head. “God, how old am I getting?” you chuckled, making Harmony laugh. “So, Harmony, do you mind if I ask who you’re here for?” you made conversation, already fairly certain you knew the answer. Roger had a bevy of girls waiting for him in every city.

“John,” she blushed.

Well THAT was new. “Really?” you said, pleasantly surprised.

Harmony nodded. “He’s so gorgeous,” she admitted dreamily. “He’s not as out there as Freddie but when he plays… it’s incredible.”

Your heart swelled up with warmth. John had been so depressed after his girlfriend had broken up with him, and he was finally starting to come back around to feeling like his old self again. Maybe Harmony would be good for him. “You know, I could introduce him to you if you wanted.”

Harmony’s mouth fell open in shock. “C-can you do that??”

At the risk of seeming smug, you stressed, “We’re not best friends or anything like that. I’m just along for the ride. But I know him well enough to know that you’re just his type.”

“But… you’re on tour with them??”

You nodded, feeling a smile spread across your face. “I am! I’m from Y/C, and when they played there, I hit it off with Brian really well. He’s the whole reason I’m here, pretty much.”

“You get to be with him and him alone?” Harmony shook her head in amazement. “And he wants it that way?”

“Yep,” you nodded, grinning. “He was the one who suggested me coming out on tour in the first place. We’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“Wow,” Harmony’s eyes gleamed in amazement. “I envy you.”

You held out your hand to Harmony and said, “Come on. This is the best part of the show right here.” The two of you got off of the amplifier and made your way over to the wings. You had made sure to be on Brian’s side of the stage for this song- he always looked so gorgeous during it.

“Now,” Freddie said to the audience, “We’re going to slow things down a bit for you beautiful people. This is a song written by Mr. Brian May.” He paused for the applause (you personally thought that you clapped and cheered the loudest) before continuing, “It’s called ‘White Queen’.”

You felt a smile spread across your face as the opening notes of one of your favorite Queen songs rang out to an enthusiastic crowd. Brian’s head was bowed over his guitar- always completely into the music. His fingers moved gently across the strings, playing the arpeggios that led into the first verse perfectly, and you swore you’d never seen anything more beautiful in your entire life (you found yourself saying that over and over when it came to Brian).

This song entranced you- it always had. Brian’s personal poetry really blossomed with this one, and you never failed to tell him so (in fact, it hadn’t been on the setlist in ages, but when Brian figured out how much you loved it, he insisted on playing it every night). It was melancholy, melodic, imaginative, and just so quintessentially Brian.

“Beautiful,” Harmony sighed, and you followed her eyes to where they rested on John. You grinned. Completely enamored, just like you’d been when you started.

If you hadn’t been watching Harmony’s laser focus on John (and John’s eyes eventually landing on Harmony and staying there), you would have seen Brian’s eyes on you. He had felt some profound shift in his soul over the past couple of days when it came to you. He’d adored you from the minute he first saw you, of course, but…now, after being on the road with you for such a long time, it went deeper. Brian had first noticed the shift when it came to this song- he’d written it when he was a stupid kid, for some girl in some class that he barely remembered. But since they’d put this song back in the setlist, it was like it had always been meant for you. Lily. Stars of lovingness in your hair, smiling eyes… you could not see…

Before anyone could realize it, the set was over, and the band was backstage and back to their normal selves: Freddie was whirling around scoffing about how he’d sounded like shit, Roger was enjoying the company of far too many young women, and John sat in the corner nursing a vodka tonic. You held back slightly with Harmony, knowing Brian was going to be busy rubbing ice on his fingers (you didn’t ask) for the next few minutes, giving you plenty of opportunity to play matchmaker. “Now,” you said, turning to face your young friend, “are you ready to meet Deacy?”

“I-I think so,” Harmony stammered. “W-will you do the talking?”

“In the beginning, of course,” you smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But remember, we’re trying to get him to notice YOU, not me! So just be yourself and remember how amazing you are.”

Harmony blushed slightly as she revealed, “I haven’t, um… I haven’t been with a lot of musicians. I’ve been with roadies and stage door people, but when it comes t-”

“Harmony,” you smiled. “It doesn’t matter whether you’ve been with two musicians or twenty-eight. What matters is this one here.”

Harmony nodded and exhaled. “Okay,” she nodded. “I can do this.”

You returned her nod and replied, “Yes you can. Come on.” Quick as a wink, you led her over to where John was sitting, smiling to yourself when you felt her grip on your arm tighten.

“Deacy,” you said, causing him to look up from his vodka. “This is my friend, Harmony. Harmony, this is-”

“John Deacon,” John cut you off and gave a small smile as he extended his hand for Harmony to take. She did, and flashed a coy grin at him before she said, “You were amazing up there. I’ve wanted to see Queen for so long.”

“Hope we didn’t disappoint,” John replied, becoming more entranced every second.

“Trust me,” Harmony smiled a smile that she hoped hid how nervous she was, “you didn’t.” The looks that the two of them were sharing made Harmony nearly transform before your very eyes- from girl to woman, from wannabe to groupie, however you’d want to call it. She almost seemed to carry herself straighter and hold her head higher as she and John exchanged a bit more banter before he excused himself to get her a drink.

You decided that your matchmaking was done for the evening, and left Harmony to work her magic on John. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Brian enter the room, marking his eyes as they searched for you. When they found you, he flashed you a cloud-nine grin that you returned all too gladly as you dashed over to him and launched yourself into his arms.

His arms wrapped tight around you, head on your shoulder and lips pressing a chaste kiss to the base of your neck. “Hi,” you exhaled to each other, deciding to swap oxygen with words before your lips pressed together again softly.

“Was it good?” Brian asked, a slight smirk spreading across his face.

“Do you even need me to tell you?”

“Well, just once would be nice, wouldn’t it, love?”

You laughed one of those laughs that Brian thought sounded better than any melody he could ever write, and swayed him back and forth. “Oh, Mr. May, you were just wonderful,” you sighed, only slightly teasing. You leaned your head on his chest and sighed. “Can’t believe you actually have a break after this.”

“I know,” Brian replied. “Then we’re onto California.”

You nodded slightly. In your head, California was where this crazy adventure ended for you. Sure, you and Brian were having an amazing time together, but California was California. A whole different ballgame. Out there, everything was better for the rock stars- better venues, better hotels, better booze, better drugs… and better groupies. You didn’t want to talk down to yourself, but there was no way you could measure up to the California girls that had been immortalized in the minds of everyone in your scene. And besides, you wanted Brian to feel free to see all that California (LA in particular) had to offer. You were both young and free- there wasn’t any reason that had to change.

“Lily?” Brian snapped you out of your thoughts. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you furrowed your brows. “Did I look not alright?”

Brian shrugged. “You just looked a little… lost, that’s all.”

You sighed slightly. He could always see right through you. “Just sad that I’m not going to get to see California. I’ve always wanted to.”

“What do you mean?” Brian looked at you, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I thought you were coming to LA with us.”

You paused for a moment. He didn’t… he did not… “A-are you serious?” you stammered out. “You want me to come to LA?”

“Of course I do,” Brian scoffed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I think you’d like it- sunshine, beaches. Plus, there are supposed to be a bunch of other people who are on tour there around the same time, so we can see concerts and all that on our off days.” He paused and you watched apprehension build in his face. “Why did you think that you weren’t coming?”

Words escaped you then. “I… I just didn’t know whether I…” you tried to verbalize your thoughts, but you found yourself coming up empty. The more you thought about it, the less your reasoning made sense. Brian certainly didn’t want you to leave the tour, and neither did Freddie, Roger or Deacy.

Brian filled the silence that you were creating with, “Don’t worry about it, darling.” His lips pressed to your temple and whispered, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

That night, after the party, while Brian was chasing his high after he’d helped you reach yours, you made a decision. It was a decision you thought that you’d never even consider making years ago. You had promised yourself that you would forget your old life as much as possible. But as Brian rolled off of you that night after pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and whispering about “how good you were for me, Peaches,”… you just couldn’t lie to him anymore. The room was silent for a moment as you bit your lip and stared at the ceiling. Just tell him, you wimp. What’s the worst that can happen? “Can you… can you not call me Peaches?”

“I thought you liked it,” Brian looked at you worriedly.

“I do! I do like it,” you reassured him, “but… I have something else I want you to call me.”

“What?”

It barely escaped your mouth.

“Y/N.”

#AYYYYYY WE GOT A FUCKIN CLIFF! HANGER!#i wanted to make this chapter the turning point for where the story gets a bit more srs #did i succeed? idk #let me know what you think!!!#classic rock #classic rock fic #queen #queen fic #brian may #brian may fic #my writing #i'll love her still

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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BODY AND SOUL Part 27 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I always knew the cabin stuff was gonna be pretty long; this is ostensibly Part 1 of 3 that involve the cabin and the narrative surrounding it, a major part of my fic. Please refer to this in particular, which was a major influence on the mythology I’ve built around this particular place--especially the black oak circle--and its connection with Duckenzie’s destiny. I’m so excited for all of you who have reached this part of their journey with them; while I’m using these chapters as an excuse to write LOTS of sex and doting for them (which I fucking live for), they’re also really important to the arc of the wider narrative I’ve been weaving from the beginning; the crux of what pulled this fic out of the relatively small story I had originally planned into something huge and cosmically beautiful--a project that has changed my life, a project I will finish, or die in the attempt thereof. The cabin’s kitchen looks like this. Duncan’s herb grinder is this one, for y’all stoners like me who care about shit like that. Sweet alyssum looks like this (here’s some in pink and white). The mental picture of Duncan with those little flowers in his hair is such a beautiful one to me. A reminder that Kenzie’s bikini looks like this, the rust-colored slip dress looks like this. In order to really understand a major aspect of my story, I feel it’s important to read a little about the concept of the Divine Feminine, a major tenant of witchcraft--I’m a solitary practitioner, and though my Kenzie is not overtly Pagan, she is Pagan-minded regarding how she conducts her life; coming to understand her powers will bring her closer to owning her witch identity for real. The Divine Feminine in my story is certainly not limited to Kenzie, either, and it’s very important that everyone who cares about Duckenzie understands that; Duncan learning to nurture, understand and respect his own feminine divinity, within and outside of his relationship with Kenzie, is a huge aspect of this story. Kenzie kneeling in the flowers was definitely inspired by these shots of Mallory in APOCALYPSE. The spiral of the flowers is not coincidental--the spiral is a very old symbol, symbolizing the cyclical nature of the universe and everything in it, so keep that in mind. If you haven’t noticed, roses are an important part of the imagery of my story--the working title for this fic was DARK RED ROSES once upon a time for like half a second, and Duncan calls her the Queen of Roses in his thoughts because they will forever be associated with her in his mind--it was that rosy balcony where he first saw her, and like the clearing surrounded by black oaks, the balcony was a Thin Place. I’ve been working hard on 28, so that delayed me editing this part--the good news is I’ll probably be done with 28 by the end of the day tomorrow. Here are some super cute pics I found of Billie where she really looks like Kenzie. As ever, your likes, reblogs, comments, asks and edits mean the world to me.

Duncan’s mouth was open on the fiercely soft skin above Kenzie’s breasts, drifting against the Tiffany moon, his hands urgently searching for the tie that held her sun-colored top over them, his mind adrift in her with an overwhelming strength that was making him gasp--the bed was so silken-soft, the light so sweet and golden in the daylight, and the energy in the room seemed suddenly hazy with the weight of their thoughts; Kenzie’s were rapid, heightened, pressing him with mutual relief, kindling up a desire in him that inflamed.

“Oh my fucking goddess, baby--fucking fuck me.”

Queen of Roses. Not just the Princess. The Queen. The highest and most beautiful. The height of all my desires and every pleasure of my heart.

“Oh, I fucking will, Miss Stone,” he spoke into her skin, against her neck, into her ear. “I heard you, baby. We have nowhere to be. This is the only place in the world, and there’s only you and me, and I’m gonna make you fucking scream, I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, Kenzie, moonbeam--” Kenzie writhed under his touch, a nervous, ecstatic laugh drifting out of her.

He found the tie at her waist as his mouth fell onto hers again--oh thank Fate, fuck--his fingers demandingly pulling it apart, drawing the soft fabric away from her, eager beyond all feeling to touch her. Since this morning, her little mouth so adoring around him, his senses for her had been urging him on to a desirous undoing for her--Mackenzie. Kenzie. Baby. My fucking baby. As wonderful as it is to taste you, as exquisite as it is to have your mouth on me, beloved, it’s fucking you, fucking you as we gasp against each other that brings us closest, so irrevocably close, kindles that feeling in me of not knowing where I start when I’m inside you, not feeling the divide of our bodies anymore, never wanting to come away, feeling truly as though wherever we were once separated, we’re tied together again, whole. So before we do anything else today, I’m going to fuck you. Right now. Fuck me, beloved, and let’s get lost in each other, my Persephone, my Ariadne bathed in stars, my Titania of the flowering forest.

Kenzie was lifting up as he gripped her in the space under her shoulder blades, her eyes heavy-lidded as she listened to his thoughts; he easily held her slight weight, keeping his grasp wildly tender. She pushed the top from her arms, and Duncan was lowering her back to the bed (oh fuck it’s so fucking soft, I could lay here with you all day, for days and days), her golden hair scattering around her in a wide halo, his fingers clutched tight around the roundness of her breasts now--he’d slipped them under the softness of her little black bikini top, and Kenzie’s slender chest was heaving, her breathing labored with the immediacy of his touch as he kneaded his palms into her supple skin. He could feel the tiny fluttering vibration of her heart under his thumbs, and it was making his cock jump against the front of the jersey shorts, urging him to make her moan. Speak, angel. Tell me of your need in this sacred space that exists only for us right now.

Kenzie’s little fingers (so delicate, so sweet and small, I love your hands, Kenzie baby) were drifting up to his open collar, undoing the buttons below with gentle speed, their smoothness sending a burst of shivering warmth down his spine, into the space between his legs where his cock was beginning to strain as he knelt over her, his body dipped down on her. Her mouth was so wet and tasted so sweet, her little tongue quivering against his, the tiny longing sounds she made under his lips, and he fought the faintness she was causing; it was gathering like wild, stray flowers, into a bloom in his mind. Fuck, I want you so much, I feel like I’m going to actually pass out, baby.

“I could just die,” she was whispering. “The way I can feel you right now, the way you touch me, baby, the sweetness of your thoughts, how beautiful you are--Duncan, baby, how you kiss me--”

“Remember that first night, Kenzie,” he was murmuring into her mouth, his fingers drifting down the jut of her hip bones, into the denim shorts, down the prickly slightness of the shorn hair around the lips of her sex, letting his fingers hover there. “Remember when you first let me kiss you, angel of heaven? Your little velvet dress, the crystal at your throat, those shoes that left red welts on your beautiful little ankles--remember how you told me you’d come home with me? God, I thought I was going to die right then.” Duncan was drifting the hand up from her sex now--I’m gonna tease you a little, angel baby. We have all the time in the world. I’m gonna make you so fucking wet. Drifting it to the button of her shorts, pulling the zipper down with an ease that brought a wet glow into her jade-hazel eyes, her little mouth open as she listened to him speak, releasing tiny gasps, her thoughts swirling and chaotic with want for him. The soft black of the bikini bottoms peeked from where he’d opened the zipper, and Duncan brought the flat of one palm against the mound of her there, the softness between her legs, using his other hand to pull slowly at the shorts. Kenzie wiggled a little from where he held her down, and the shorts eased off her thighs after a moment. She kicked her Vans off and they tumbled to the floor--then Duncan was dipping back to yank the shorts away, discarding them to the floor as well, kicking his own shoes off, lost in admiration of her body in the bikini. Kenzie’s little hands had managed to undo every button of his shirt now, and he ripped it away, impatiently, mouth still shivering into hers--then he lifted up, pressing his hand harshly between her legs again, heart aching at the whimper that fell out of her, and then Duncan smiled.

“For you, Kenzie, I surrendered my soul in an instant. I may not have really understood that in the moment--but I do now. I would do anything for you.” And this he spoke into her jaw, lips drifting along its delicate curve. “Anything. You--an angel. In my bed, and now that bed is ours, and right now this one is too, isn’t it, baby? This is our bed.”

“Yes,” Kenzie whispered, and the pleading in her voice made him bite his lip, close his eyes, force his need back with an insistent hand. “Yes, fuck, Duncan, yes, hmmmh,” and she was kneading against him, moving her hips so she pressed into his hand cupped around her, “Gimme your big cock in this beautiful bed, fuck me, Dunny baby--”

He moved his fingers down now, to the crook where her thighs began on either side of her cunt, and pressed outward, then up, so her knees were pressing into her belly, the underside of her thighs clutched in his tight grip, the lips of her visibly folding into the slight fabric covering her sex. Kenzie moaned again, her eyes closing at the demand of his movements; now I have you right where I want you, Princess Kenzie, and I’m gonna make you want my cock with terrible, aching need before I give it to you, before I fuck you hard. I know you want me to--I can feel the golden coil of your desire, telling me what you need.

“Who’s your Prince, baby?” Duncan dipped his hips down so his crotch rode up against hers, against the strain of her cunt still wrapped tightly in the dark fabric, lifted his body up so they were flush against each other there, the hardness of his erection pressing into the outline of her, then back down, causing an aching friction that sent sharp needles of want through him--he felt Kenzie shudder deeply, her thighs shivering violently under where his hands gripped them harshly, felt her cunt spasm along his length, and her head dipped up, her hands finding his jaw, flitting over the stubble on his cheeks, her little mouth open, beginning to abandon all sense of her composure.

“Uhmmm, you are, Dunny, only you, you’re my angel Prince--I want you to fuck me till I’m raw--”

“Not until you tell me whose baby you are. Tell me who you belong to, baby.”

“Unh, you. I belong to you.”

“Say it again.” He let go of her thighs now, pushing himself against her again, as harshly as he could, riding his cock against the fabric that contained them, his hands clutching her little wrists and forcing her arms up over her head, straining them against the silken strands of her golden hair fanning out around her head--like your halo. I will bring you sweetest ecstasy, my goddess, I will worship you most faithfully for all my life, I ache to be your most supplicant admirer, truly, you must know that I do, you must know that I would die for you, I would die and love to die if it was what you wanted--

“I belong to you, Duncan. I’m yours forever. Fucking please--” Her voice needled up into a piteous cry that made him feel as though his mind were about to come undone, unhinge from itself and float away into the ether of oblivion. His mouth tasted at her, cutting her words off, swallowing her cry, his fists pressing her wrists down into the impossibly soft bed, pressing so hard he worried for a moment that he’d leave bruises on her skin, but could feel her thought--leave them, I want bruises from you, beloved, I want to see your devotions on my skin--and the sweet softness of her mouth was promising him that she meant it, her tongue laving out along his bottom lip, her hips bucking up to press her cunt against the fabric that covered his straining cock. He let go of one of her wrists, keeping his fist around the other, his gold Cartier bracelet digging into her, the diamonds on hers leaving tiny welts on his arm--and forced the hand that was now free into the waistband of the black fabric at her sex, rough, demanding, running his thumb into her cunt, now soaking wet for him, bringing it back to her clit and pressing there, unrelenting. Kenzie keened up against him, and her breasts were pressing into the top of his chest for a moment and he shivered to feel her sweet warmth, to smell the sweetness that lingered around her face, and then he was letting go of her other wrist, knowing what she wanted to do--she slid the shorts from his hips so they pooled around his knees, and keeping his hand at her clit as though it were tethered there, he slid out of them; the remainder of their clothing was pushed over the bed so it fell to the floor, discarded.

They were in the very center of the huge bed now, and to Duncan it felt as if they were floating in the middle of some impossibly smooth cloud. He paused for just a moment, Kenzie’s lithe body spread out under him, the irresistible curve of her hips attracting the grip of his hands with a magnetic pull, her face aglow with iridescent arousal and happiness, her fingers dipping in a little fist under her chin, her eyes fixated on his face.

“Kenzie, sweetest, loveliest, beloved--” he dipped his mouth to her ear, unable to stop himself, wanting to give her the roughness he could feel she desired, but lost in his own rosy thoughts, his own deep need to worship her endlessly. “You are so beautiful it fucking staggers me.” She was giggling against the tickle of his breath, and Duncan was overwhelmed so utterly with his love for her he had to steady himself, had to slow his mind, drift away from it, for fear that he’d die right there, die of the immensity of it. Then, he slid his arms under her, against the terrible softness of the bed, and lifted her onto his lap, lifted her so for a moment her golden hair tossed against his cheeks, so her mouth was hovering above his, so her breasts were pressing into his chest, sliding against him with such a yielding ache, the back of her thighs pressing into the top of his, the hard length of his erection pressing between the lips of her, into her clit, and he moaned against her throat as she cried out near his ear, and then he was lifting her up and forcing her down onto his cock, clutching her under one breast and at her hip, holding her steady as he rode up into her, humming into her skin as she began to buck onto him, grinding down so he was buried in her, entirely.

Duncan’s thumb came down and pressed against her clit again, and he spoke into her ear.

“Remember when you rode me like this, that first night? Your hair and your necklace glittered in the low light, and your mouth was open, just as it is now--and I knew you would belong to me, from the way you gave yourself to me, oh Kenzie, I knew you were mine--” he was gasping now, gasping for breath, gasping to feel her, to see her with her head thrown back now, eyes to the ceiling, her mind a swirling maelstrom of gold, lost in his words, loving them utterly as he knew she was. Keep talking, baby, keep saying such beautiful things. Tell me everything and fuck me.

Duncan was pounding his hips up into her with so much force, his cock burying itself in her with such abandon, he worried he’d rend her in two, her breasts and arms shivering terribly against him, her eyes full of ecstatic, oblivious brightness. He paused for a moment, the entirety of him inside her, the wetness between her legs sliding down his thighs in dripping trails.

“I love you, I love your golden hair, your lips, your throat and your eyes--I worship you, unnnh, Kenzie, Mackenzie, you are the goddess of my heart, unggg, you are the most divine of all beings--” Duncan suddenly lifted her up so he slid out of her, and she gasped in surprise, and he was flipping her over forcefully, pushing her down on all fours on the vast silken bed, hand gripping the back of her neck downwards, her little palms coming out to hold herself up, and her ass slid up towards him. Duncan brought his fingers up to tangle into her hair, then gripped it harshly, pulling her head back--then he buried himself into her cunt, seeing the veins on his cock straining with hardness before he did, and now he was riding into her from behind with a wildness that bordered on a Bacchanalian trance--they were facing the painting of Cupid and Psyche now, and his mind prickled with the combined tenderness of it, his tenderness for her against the hedonistic lust he felt for her, inside her this way.

“Unnnng, fuck my little cunt, baby, fuck me--” Kenzie murmured, her fingers clutching the luxuriant gold-and-white spread, pressing her ass back to receive him, and he slid back so all of his length retreated from her, then he forced himself back inside her, entirely, so his balls smacked up into the lips of her vulva, and jerked her head back further so he could see her eyes rolling up into her head, the open drift of her mouth as she lost herself inside the feeling of him, feel the twist of her head under the forceful pull of his hand.

“God, I love your little cunt so much, I’m gonna fuck you so hard while we’re here, I’m gonna make your little cunt so fucking pink and sore, baby--” he was keening into her, burying himself in her, pressing his whole body against her; Duncan pressed her head down now into the bed so her cheek dipped to the side, her little breaths gasping against the silken sheet, and he lifted her hips higher so he could see the raw, rosy darkness that was spreading through the space between her legs, the color of his attentions, see the redness at the pucker of her ass where he knew he’d fucked her so well last night, fucked her so hard, pressed his come inside her with the plug afterwards and kept his need inside her. “We’re gonna fuck so much you won’t be able to walk, baby, we’re gonna fuck so hard you won’t be able to move--”

“Uhhhghh, Dunny--” He could feel how close she was hovering to her orgasm, and he immediately stopped, now, stopped and pulled out of her, though he still pressed her neck into the bed, holding her steady, and Kenzie dissolved into a shivering moan of frustrated need that set his heart on fire--”Mhhhhh, Dunny, please--please--mmph, put it back, gimme your cock, spank me--”

“That’s it, angel, I knew that’s what you wanted, I felt it--tell me again. Say it again, baby.”

“Spank me. Fucking spank me.”

“Yes, Princess Kenzie.”

Keeping the hand steady at her neck, holding her rigidly prostrate, Duncan brought his open palm down, immediate and harsh, on Kenzie’s right ass cheek. The snap reverberated across the wide room, and Kenzie let out a little scream that rang in his ears, making him smile immediately, making his cock smack against the space between her legs, straining. He watched her cunt spasm, felt her shudder under his hand.

“Mmmphhyes,” Kenzie cried, and then, demandingly, “do it again, again, right now, do it again.”

Duncan smacked her left cheek now, first with the palm of his hand, then the flat of it, as hard as he could--Kenzie keened forwards from the force of it, a gasp rattling out of her, the sound of her choking on the spittle that had been sucked back into her throat. “Uhhhhhyes,” she moaned. “Again.”

Duncan could see the rising red welts he had caused--already he knew he’d left a mark that would linger on the left side, but he felt utterly beholden to her demand now, lost in his lust. Hearing his hidden hesitancy, Kenzie spoke again, her voice (the sweetest of all sounds to me) drifting up to him from where he pressed her. “Do it, Duncan. Leave marks. I want it, baby. I want you to leave your mark on me. Do as I say.”

Duncan felt his skin flush, felt himself quake under the power in her words, knew that as much as she wanted him to do it, his desire to give her the pleasure she demanded was even stronger--I would do fucking anything for you, Mackenzie Stone. I can’t speak of the things I would do in the face of my love for you. I am utterly yours for all time. There is nothing for me without you. Whatever you ask of me, know I would do it. No holy terror I would not face. No fearful, dreadful task I would not undertake. No darkness I wouldn’t swallow. I fear nothing if it is in your name.

So he brought his hand up once more, and then down with as much force as he could onto the right side of her ass again--Kenzie keened forward once more, gasping out a cry that was stifled in her surprise, and she sucked air in sharply as he smacked her again on the left, and then he buried his cock into her cunt again, unable to stand the coolness of the bare air against him anymore, unable to bear the sight of her dripping sex, convulsing and empty, and he pulled her head up from the sheet and flushed her against him, his arms trapping her little body as he knelt into her, mouth at her jaw, fingers rubbing harshly at her swollen clit--her hands gripped up around his arms, her faced turned up to Cupid and Psyche there, and he heard her whisper “that’s us, baby, that’s us, fucking divine,” and she was coming now, her tiny shape shivering with such intense force in his grip, her voice screaming out so utterly that he immediately felt his own release, suddenly, unexpectedly, coaxed out of him with her impossible sweetness, her utter abandon, and she was turning her head as they came together, their open-mouthed kiss the melding of their souls, their minds melding together, high in some other, more ethereal place for that moment, in the place where they had wings imperceptible to human eyes, where they had eyes made of galaxies, hair of sunlight, clothing woven in impossible geometry. It’s you who are divine, Mackenzie Stone. I’m merely blessed to be in your light. Her golden softness against him in the daylight was, for a moment, so like a dream, he wondered if they’d fallen into an impossibly vivid fantasy, a place that was untethered from all reality.

But no--you’re no dream, my love. You are the realest, the truest, most irrefutable of all things.

------

For a little while they had laid quietly, clutching each other, still lost in the center of the golden-cream bed, its smoothness still kindling his senses to a strange high; Duncan pressed soft, imploring kisses along her cheeks, at her eyelids, the bridge of her nose. For a little while Kenzie seemed to drift in a wordless oblivion of post-coitus, her eyes fluttering, her throat spasming with tiny movements as she swallowed, her arms shivering almost imperceptibly under his hands as her mouth dipped open, her hands drifting at his jaw, falling back and forth over the stubble. I love this, he could hear her thinking, over and over in an endless circling. I love this, I love the feeling of you here, I love the soft-prickly touch of you, I love you, I love the curve of your jaw here, I love you, I love touching you here, love you…

His hands fell down to her ass, feeling there tenderly--he coul sense the wincing shiver in her as he did, and ached to know she felt pain he had caused, even if she had asked for it--”ugh, Kenzie, are you okay?” He dipped his head up to look at the marks he’d left--he could see the dark red outline of his palms on both cheeks, and knew there were would be bruises on her tomorrow.

“Baby, it’s okay. I loved it. I wanted it. It--it fucking feels so good. I like it when you’re rough like that with me. I asked you to do it, okay? It was perfect.” And she was pulling his face down to her mouth and kissing him and sending long waves of reassuring, lovely gold into him, where they cascaded down from the top of his head into his body, and Duncan was staggered again by the power he knew she had inside her. I’m blessed to be near you at all. I can’t even fathom it.

Kenzie leaned back from him, eyes gazing at him insistently. “Baby, go get some of that weed, okay? I wanna smoke a little. Then we’ll bring the picnic basket down to the lake.”

“Ugh, yes, baby. Yes.” Duncan slid out of her arms, finding his underwear and the jersey shorts where he’d thrown them to the floor, pulling them on, glancing over to her in the middle of the bed as he did; her hair was still fanning out around her, her expression quiet and deeply content, her little mouth dipping open, her eyes falling up and down over his form. He leaned back over her, dipping his head down over her hip, pressing his lips into her left ass cheek where the redness was swelling, hand coming under it to cup it softly. She moaned softly, hand falling in his hair--then he leaned away and went to the open doorway, glancing into her face over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, baby, wait till you try this stuff, it’s so good, the high is so gradual and steady, it practically feels like an edible.”

Kenzie smiled at him, dreamily, and Duncan had to turn away, feeling lost, consumed for a moment inside his longing for her, her golden hair, the roundness of her breasts, the space between her legs. No matter how much I’m with you, no matter how often we fuck, it never feels like enough. I want you again. And again. And again.

Duncan was drifting inside these thoughts, distracted deep within them, when he realized with a shock that he was outside; the warmth of the afternoon was on his skin, the gentle wind off the lake drifting into his curls and and down his naked torso--wait, how did I get outside so quickly? Did I really walk through the house and down the stairs and out the door without noticing?

Wait.

Duncan tried to backtrack to the bedroom for a moment; tried to rewind the last few moments, retrace his steps. But he couldn’t visualize walking through the house--he couldn’t feel the wood under his feet or see the shape of the chandelier on the landing, couldn’t feel himself descending the stairs. Oh, fuck. I think I did it again, he thought. I think I moved again--without moving. He went to the G-Class, parked quietly on the gravel. Duncan stepped gingerly over it with bare feet, noticing his legs were shaking a little--he opened the trunk and pulled his Prada suitcase towards him, unzipping it and pulling his Armani sandals out, slipping them onto his feet, then set about the work of moving the other Yeti cooler and the picnic basket inside, as well as both suitcases and Kenzie’s tote bag with the books, the fireside cooking kit, and the picnic blanket and piles of lovely quilts Kenzie had ordered. Once everything was inside the house, Duncan brought both of the coolers into the rustically-styled kitchen; it had long windows overlooking the woods on the eastern side of the house, and an island in the middle made of a long slab of oak, rustic tree trunks fitted closely together to make up the base, and latticed stools with oak legs, cool-silver appliances mixed in with the wood embellishments of the counter tops. Duncan hauled both coolers onto the island tabletop, then the picnic basket beside it. The Yetis should keep everything cold for another hour or so, he knew. We’ll pack the picnic basket for the lake in a little while. For now, I need to test this theory again.

He noticed his hands were stinging a little still; stinging from his harsh slaps against Kenzie’s skin. He brought his thumbs against his palm, drifting his fingers over it, down his wrist to the gold bracelet, twisting it around absently. It wasn’t as though he’d never touched anyone else in a harsh sexual way; there were many lost nights with random partners where he remembered flashes of wanton lust, remembered his nights with Evan where he was always the dominant. But Kenzie, he thought. The idea of hurting her in any way is nightmarish to me. I understand that it gives her pleasure, but I can’t help but feel unnerved. Inside this love, I always feel untethered, absolutely unhinged with attachment towards her, and helplessly shy; helpless to behold her. To love someone this much in a world so uncertain is terrifying, and even moreso to love someone as beautiful--inside and outwardly--as she is. And to feel passion from inside it is so intense, it’s as if I’m constantly on fire. Whatever she asks for, I would die to give it to her. I know this. Utterly. It frightens me, and yet I feel so unafraid when we’re together. How strange and wondrous this love is. And it feels as though--these things happening to us are only happening because of this love. I don’t know why, or what it means. But I do feel like our love has opened some kind of door. A pathway, maybe, is a better word. The path is becoming more clear every day. The path to our destinies. And our destinies are irrevocably intertwined. Our destiny is to be together no matter what--to be together inside this greater thing that’s coming.

Duncan went back to the front doorway, where he’d left their suitcases. He gripped the handle of each in either hand. Okay. Let’s try this again. Duncan tried to visualize the bedroom, closing his eyes; the golden-creamy coverlet, the soft gauzey curtains, the gold laurels, Cupid and Psyche on the wall--and Kenzie, her hair fanning out around her like beams of sunlight, her serene expression with her eyes lifted up to him under the halo of her eyelashes, her little mouth smiling, her white breasts and dark rosy nipples, her little hands clutched along her ribs, and her wonderful, beautiful hips and thighs, the gorgeous curve of them, pressed together, hiding her sex in their dip. Mackenzie Louise. Angel of my heart. Light of my shadow.

“Duncan, fuck.”

Duncan opened his eyes--oh, shit. It worked. He was back in the bedroom, the weight of the suitcase handles still in his fingers; Kenzie had opened the window while he was away, and wind drifted cooly against the curtains. Kenzie had put her bikini back on, and she had been laying on her belly on the coverlet, her feet lifted up behind her, knees crooked, chin against her hand; she’d been facing the Swynnerton painting, no doubt gazing at it with the same sort of serene expression she usually reserved for The Youth of Bacchus; but her eyes were on him now, full of astonished confusion, her head crooked back in alarm.

Kenzie sat up, shaking her head in amazement, crossing her legs.

“You just did it twice, baby. I thought maybe the first time I imagined it, I was still coming down from my orgasm and thought I was just sort of fucked up--but that time I saw it. You popped back in here like Samantha in Bewitched. Wow, baby.”

“Kenz, see if you can do it again. See if you can move something--wait.” Duncan crouched and laid his suitcase flat, unzipping it and taking out his gold weed pipe. He laid it flat on his palm and held it up to her, looking into her eyes--they were glowing with flecks of gold, her excitement rising behind them.

“Okay. Try now. See if you can move it.”

Kenzie’s eyes squinted for a moment, biting her lip with concentration; Duncan felt the adoration of his love wash over him, watching her in her little black bikini, her tawny hair gathered over shoulder now, her hand reaching out towards him, her palm upwards, fingers curled just a little. Then Duncan glanced down at his hand--the pipe was gone from it. His eyes shot back up to Kenzie, who was grinning at him in triumph, the pipe now grasped between her thumb and index finger. “Ah ha!” she laughed, tossing her hair. “I did it again!”

“Baby, do you feel--” Duncan was going into his suitcase again, pulling out the bag of weed, a black herb grinder, and a black BIC lighter, sliding up onto the bed with her, kissing her, “--do you feel like whatever this stuff is, these things we can do--fuck it, this magic, is stronger here? That whatever it is is more potent out here? I feel like my body is charged with an electrical current, I feel like my nerves are singing--”

“Yes. Yes. That time it took almost nothing from me--it was as easy as breathing. I just thought about it for a second, and it came to me. I don’t feel dizzy or out of breath like I did before. I think I could do something a lot larger and it wouldn’t bother me at all. That’s how it feels.”

Duncan was grinding some of the blue-strain out and packing the bowl of the pipe, and his nerves still had that potent, shimmering edge--he felt high already since reappearing in the bedroom, high on the strange power of the impossible thing he had done, and the things Kenzie could do, the mystery of them.

“I was thinking, you know that feeling we were talking about--you said it seemed like we opened a door when we met, and I think the door was more like a pathway, like we opened a path, and now we’re on the path, and it’s one we only could have found after we found each other. And now we’re on it. It’s the right path. And the powers--fuck, Kenzie, the magic--they’re part of that path.” He held the bowl out to her and she took it, gently brushing his fingers, staring up at him. My sweet sweet Kenzie. To be alone with you this way. I can’t find words.

“I think so too, Duncan. I think we found the path. Oh, baby. It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”

He could see the hint of tears glistening around her eyes, then she lowered her gaze to light the bowl and breathed in, deeply, letting out a little cough at the first embers in her throat--she dipped down to his mouth, lifting her lips onto his, hand cradling his cheek, then blew the smoke between them, into him, down into his throat, into his lungs, the weed at once inebriating and potent, settling into both of them in the span of moments, bringing a new glow to the room, a spiritous opalescence. Together we’ve manifested real magick, she thought, and he heard her, warm inside her mind and in the grip of the weed, reaching out for her hand, pulling his long fingers achingly down her skin. She passed the pipe to him, which was still lit, and he breathed in from it, deeply. Together we have brought something to life. With this love we’ve woken up something very old and very powerful. I feel it, Duncan. I know it.

“It’s--so, so beautiful,” he replied. “Beyond anything I ever imagined was possible before I found you. You are so beautiful, Kenzie. It’s like I can see the universe inside you.”

“When I write my book, I’m going to steal all the lovely things you say to me,” Kenzie smiled. “I’’m going to pretend like I came up with them.”

“They’re all for you anyway; they belong to you. Everything is for you--every part of me.” Duncan set the pipe down on the softness of the bed, hand drifting down her smooth thigh to her knee. To give myself to you, to give you my love--there is nothing that has ever made me so happy in all the world, Mackenzie Stone.

“I know, baby. I know. I love you. All of me is for you, too.”

“To hear that, my heart just--fucking sings, Kenz. To be loved by you is just…” Duncan trailed off, looking away from her, full of the feeling of shyness again. To be inside her gaze shook him to the center of his soul. It’s like looking into the window of time, seeing that there is something beyond that, something so radiantly lovely, it defies all description. The thing beyond time is love. And I see that now. Because I feel it.

Kenzie was dipping her face down to him as she had before, pressing her mouth up against his--the taste of her bitter with the weed, sweet with the scent of her perfume and her hair and her skin, then she leaned away and gripped his hands, pulling him off the bed with her. He stood over her little frame, marveling over the crown of her head only reaching to the top of his chest, longing to pull her against him, but she was dipping down to her suitcase now, pulling out one of the dresses she’d packed, a strappy rust-colored mini dress, pulling it over her head, sitting abruptly on the rug around the bed (it was covered in gold fleur de lis) to slip her Vans back onto her little feet.

“The lake, baby, the lake,” she said over her shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom, emerging moment later with two fluffy white towels which she pressed into his arms. “I wanna see the lake, come on.”

Kenzie twined her fingers around his, and in the haze of her touch and the weed and the magic he knew was with them (I know it, I know it is, I’ve seen it, I feel it) now, Duncan knew he was right. We are on the path now. “Take me, baby. I’m yours.”

--------

Together they’d put away all the groceries they’d brought in the woodsy kitchen; Duncan couldn’t stop himself from continually pressing kisses into her hair and along her forehead as Kenzie lined the fruits and vegetables and the carton of eggs, the jars of olives and tiny pickles carefully on the empty shelves; opening the drawers, her hair dipping into her eyes, to slide the lunch-meats and turkey bacon into them. He packed the picnic basket with honeycrisp apples, the tortilla chips and pico, two ripe avocados, and made them each a turkey sandwich on the sprouted bread with fresh lettuce, the artisan provolone and slices of a ripe tomato; then he slipped two bottles of the wine inside, one red, one white, and lined the others carefully at the bottom of the fridge and the reds on the kitchen’s island. Kenzie was watching him with that glittering affection in her eyes, the one that always stopped his heart, made him shy--who was I before I met you? He wondered. I feel like my life has finally begun. Finally, I’m awake, and everything before you was a dream. The weed had made him feel deeply contented, and he could feel a similar dreamlike state of solicitude from her.

“There’s so much I want to show you here,” he said, gripping the handles of the basket. He was still shirtless, and only in the jersey shorts and sandals--fuck it, Duncan, he told himself. There’s no one to care. “Just wait until you see the sky tonight, baby. And I think I can find that clearing again, the one I told you about before--where I went alone that night. With the goldenrods and orchids. Though they might not be blooming now, I don’t know.”

Kenzie was anxiously pulling him out the sliding door to the side of the kitchen; through it was a small side-deck, and then a stony path that led around the house to the path next to the gazebo and the swing that hung from the oak tree--then even further down to the lake, its surface dappled with glitter in the afternoon sun, and the dockside, the canoe bobbing from it on a length of rope. Kenzie stopped them for a moment to admire the gazebo, then glanced over at the swing, her expression elated; I love all of this so much, he heard her, and pulled her against him for a moment, burying his nose into her hair, breathing in. I love you so much.

She pulled back from him, her eyes gold-flecked, then she smiled, mischievous--Kenzie turned and sprinted away from him down the path, her hair streaming out behind her, the little dress fluttering up to flash the dip of her ass in the black bikini. Kenzie made it to the dock, the Vans slapping noisily on the wood, and paused to slip them off and pull the dress over her head, discarding it in a heap--as Duncan came up behind her she ran back a few paces on the dock, then scurried off the edge, cannon-balling into the water, splashing him with a jet of cold spray. He grinned, setting the picnic basket down, shaking the droplets of water from his hair. After a moment, Kenzie reappeared, blinking water from her eyes, pushing her wet hair out of her face, bobbing to the surface. He could see the minute kicking of her feet under the water as she leaned back, face tilting up to the wildly blue sky, the tiny wisps of cloud scudding over the sun, which had moved from the center overhead to begin its slow descent into mid-afternoon.

“I think heaven looks like this,” she said, her eyes drifting closed as she floated there, the surface of the water’s clear reflection making it seem as though she bobbed in the sky itself. In the distance there were hills that stretched for miles due west, and Duncan knew the sun would set over them that evening--he thought of Karer See, with its pink and purple hills--knew after that the sky would burst into a brilliant cascade of stars, the likes of which were never visible in the city, the likes of which weren’t visible anywhere but here, really, as far as he had ever seen--I can’t wait to gaze at the universe with you, he thought, crouching to sit along the side of the dock, dipping his legs down into the water, bringing out the bottle of red wine and opening it as he watched her, the blue weed floating up and down through him, flaring in his mind and his blood like flowers blooming.

“Heaven looks like you, Miss Stone.”

She squinted at him, sticking her tongue out, dipping down to swim over to him, reaching up to where he held a wine glass down to her, his other hand falling against her wet hair. Kenzie sipped at it, then set it gently on the dock, dipping down into the water so her mouth was hidden under it. She kept her nose hovering just above the surface, her eyes sparkling with a green-blue reflection from the sky, dancing at him. He felt a jerk at his foot as she playfully yanked on it under the water.

“Hey! A little fish grabbed me!”

Kenzie laughed at that, ecstatic. She yanked again, and Duncan had to grab onto the side of the dock to keep from being pulled into the water this time.

“Cut that out, Mrs. Shepherd.”

“Mrs. Shepherd,” Kenzie balked, laughing. “That’s your mother.”

“But it’ll be you, too. Soon. Mackenzie Louise Shepherd, Chairwoman of the Board of Directors, Shepherd Unlimited LLC.”

“Oh, soon, huh? What makes you so sure I’ll say yes to you, Mr. Shepherd?”

“I know you will. You told me you will.”

“What if I change my mind,” she said, teasingly, reaching for her wine glass again.

“You won’t.”

“Oh really?”

“You love me.”

Kenzie grinned. “Nah, I just love your big dick and your credit cards.”

Duncan shook his head, and the weed crashed against him again, this time in a stronger wave. He stared at her; he felt bold, untethered by reason, and intoxicated with her.

“Nope. You’re totally in love with me. You’d do anything for me. I heard you tell Annette. You gave yourself away. You’re going to marry me.”

Kenzie’s smile fell away; oh god, what was it? What did I say? he thought. But then he saw the emotion in her eyes, saw that it had been there all along, that her facetiousness had been a paltry attempt to hide it. The weed seemed to be clashing against her thoughts in him, muddling them; but now he felt them in a surge. I did, didn’t I? I did tell her. I forgot about that--so much has happened since then. And I meant every word. I would do anything for you. I am going to marry you. And I love you so much it fucking hurts like a wound. It’s like the most bittersweet chocolate, a wine so rich it burns on the tongue, this heady weed we smoked, drifting in our veins now. My love for you is like that inside me all the time--and your love for me, so strong it’s like a storm that surrounds me, sweetest rain against me.

“Kenzie, baby. Come here. Eat something.”

The heat had deepened; it had to be in the 80’s now, Duncan guessed, remembering his phone was off and discarded in one of the pockets of his suitcase now, and he breathed a sigh of relief as Kenzie set her wine glass down again on the edge of the dock, reaching for his hand. He pulled her easily up to him, into his lap--cradling his head into her neck for a moment, not caring when her wetness seeped into him. Then Kenzie extracted herself from his arms, leaning over the basket to use a cloth napkin to dry the lake water from her hands, grabbing one of the towels to wrap around her shoulders, then reaching for one of the turkey sandwiches Duncan had made for them--he’d wrapped them in cloth napkins too, tying each with a neat double-knot, and Kenzie sat beside him, crossing her legs, wincing a little, to untie it.

“My ass is sore from double-duty,” and then she snorted; they both burst into a peal of laughter. Kenzie reached into the basket and handed him the other wrapped sandwich, their laughter bleeding out into stoned giggles--and together they sat on the dock, eating with insistence. Duncan was starving; sex and weed will do that, he thought, and Kenzie was nodding, reaching for tortilla chips from the basket’s interior, her little teeth crunching into them, her eyes drifting up to the sky again, full of lovely wonder that pierced his heart. Duncan finished his sandwich and cut one of the avocados in half, using a spoon to dip its green flesh into his mouth, watching her coyly. Her wet hair was dripping onto the dock’s wood surface, leaving a damp ring around her, and he fought the urge to reach out and grasp her little breast in the tiny bikini top. He watched it shiver with moisture; watched the dip of her clavicle, the moon still glittering at her throat. She brought a hand up to brush her wet hair from her cheek again, the diamonds on her wrist flashing.

“I just wanna buy you more diamonds,” he murmured between bites. “Hundreds more. One for every star in the sky.”

“Just get me flowers, baby. I love the flowers best.”

“We’re taking the path through the woods behind the house after this, I’ll show you where most of the wildflowers grow--we can gather as many as you want to bring back with us.”

“Oh, Dunny, I’d really love that. I wanna cover the whole wall at home with them.”

“A wall of flowers for Persephone, trapped in the Underworld.”

“Duncan. No. It’s not the Underworld. It won’t be--not anymore. Not after what we do.”

Duncan hesitated; my heart is so light with you. I believe it. He remembered her tear-stained face last night, the pulsing glow of her sadness when he found her in the powder room, the memory of Bill Shepherd’s cruel resentment in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry about my uncle, Kenzie. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry that he doesn’t understand--I’m sorry he touched you, that he said those things. It won’t happen again.”

“Duncan. It’s not your fault.” Her hand grasped his much larger one, disappearing into it. “Death is frightening. People are afraid to die. It’s makes them do things they wouldn’t do otherwise. He’s afraid. I already forgave him. I can’t possibly hold a grudge against a man who’s about to die.”

“And Annette?”

“Annette...I think when we get back, we’ll all feel different, you know? I think things will be different.”

“I hope so. I wish I could push all my resentment away. I want to--to try to forgive her.”

“You’re human, baby. You’re allowed to be upset, unsure. It’s okay.”

“Kenzie. How are you so wonderful. So perfect.”

Kenzie shook her head, scattering water across the dock, her eyes (the forest, the sun) burning at him. “I’m not perfect, Duncan. Fuck.”

“You are perfect. You’re perfect to me. For me.”

“You’re fucking perfect,okay? Your fucking stupid perfect hair. Your jawline--I dunno--it could cut steel or something. Your beautiful hands and your lips and your eyes like the sky. And the beautiful way you think about me. It takes my breath away.”

“Kenzie. You are the brightest person I’ve ever met. It’s like you’re made of sunlight. Of starlight. It shines out of every part of you. I could see you in the darkest place. You’d shine out like a beacon. The way people react to you...they can see it too. I think you...you have royal blood. I mean--you come from...something greater. Greater than me. Greater than anyone.”

“I don’t understand that. Why people react to me that way, especially lately. I thought maybe it’s just because of your family and, I dunno--you. Millions of Instagram followers.” Kenzie smirked at him.

Duncan shook his head.

“I think it has to do with us being together. They can see something--I don’t know what to call it. Something extraordinary. They don’t know what it is, but they can feel it. It has something to do with the magic, maybe. Like an invisible current of energy. Claire said something to me that night she came over, after you fell asleep--she said we’re intense, like a bright light a moth flies into. I think people see us like that, for whatever reason--especially you--like a bright light that they want a part of. Some people are like Lindy and Gabby, they’re sincere--it inspires them, they see how much we love each other, I think. And some people respond like that guy Georgio--lust. They just want a bite of it. And other people still--Marissa, or my uncle. They want to destroy it. Snuff it out. They long for it, and can’t accept that it doesn’t belong to them, and never could; that they can’t possess it.”

Kenzie was eating one of the apples now, munching on it with an earnest cuteness that made Duncan long for the bed upstairs again; I’m gonna throw you down in the flowers and kiss every inch of your skin soon, Mackenzie Stone.

“I think that’s why I want to be kind to them so much,” she said softly. “Lindy and Gabby, I mean. They’re so sincere.”

She paused, her mouth on the apple’s smooth skin, and he wanted to reach out and brush his fingers along her lips there. Eve eats the Apple of Knowledge in Eden. And then she Knows--she knows everything. I feel like we’re about to know, too. Everything.

Duncan nodded. “I know that, baby. You don’t have to explain that.”

“Claire has always been that way to me. So sincere. I feel love from her so genuinely, so selflessly. Now I think--I think Claire could always see it. The thing we are becoming.”

“I think so too. I think Samuel could see it too. And Pilar. And so many other people around us our whole lives. We’re noticing it now, but...I think it was always there.”

They both fell silent. Kenzie’s fingers tightened on his palm for a moment, drifted down to the bracelet, sliding over it softly. The thread. The tether. It was always there too, wasn’t it? The one between us. The magic was always there, and so were we. Us. Together.

Then she dipped her head down and took another ravenous bite from the apple, crunching it happily, her face falling into an expression of blissful happiness, the sun in her hair. She slid her hand out of his, balancing the apple on her knee, and twisted her hair out onto the deck. Water pattered in an arc that glittered in a beam of light, reflecting off the water and her diamond bracelet, blinding him for a moment. Scatter your gold over me. Then she reached for the little dress she’d discarded in a heap, pulled it over her head, and stood up, reeling her arm back and tossing the apple’s core into the water. Duncan drifted his fingers up her leg, looking into her eyes.

“Show me the woods, fair Oberon.”

The day was growing muggy now, the heat at its zenith--Duncan knew after this time, this halo’d span of hours, the sun would begin to set and the day would cool into an evening that would linger in both of them for the rest of their lives; whatever we see and feel tonight, Kenzie, will always be with us. His skin felt hot, potent, the weed crashing up again in his mind, like a rising tide. He could feel the sweat at his temples, at the back of his neck, feel the ghost of her hand that had just left his. Kenzie’s hair had already begun to dry, its waves tossing over her shoulder as she slipped her Vans back on and skipped away from him down the dock, beckoning to him impatiently.

“Come on, Dunny.” Her eyes were luminous; their gold seemed to reflect the sky, tossing green and bronze in their depth with swirling intensity. I want you again. I want you under the eaves of the shade. Come to me.

Duncan launched himself up from the dock, from his trance in the sunlight. The spell she was weaving (as you always do, my love) was pushing him toward her--he started to jog towards her but Kenzie flitted away (my little firefly), her little feet in the tennis shoes flying out behind her in the grass, cutting across the path and behind the gazebo. As Duncan ran after her the sun dappled through the trees, giving the afternoon a glittering sheen, the affectation of a sepia memory. Because as this moment fades into the next, it really is a memory now, he thought, his heart aching as he chased her, the sound of her excited giggling drifting back to him as she flew down the path which had faded from stone to pounded dirt, and through the pines and oaks that grew abundantly together at the forest opening. I ache for every moment with you that fades from reality and exists only within us forever after. I’d extend every single one of them into eternity if I could. I could never have enough moments with you. Each one is precious gold--I don’t have space in my hands enough to hold them all, and that will always leave me yearning for you, Kenzie. My moonbeam, radiant with hallowed light.

He made it to the space where the trees parted to the path, panting heavily, pausing to press his palms against his knees, dipping down to suck air into his lungs--his hair fell down over his forehead, sweat dripping at the side of his cheek. The heat had begun to feel almost tantric, enveloping him, the weed veering into the space behind his eyes, through the crown of his head, down the back of his neck, through his arms, swirling down his throat and into the warm center of him. Where are you, angel. I’m going to find you. He suddenly ached for her with a terrible craving that made him want to groan aloud. What is this day, the summer wind, the sky, the water, the wood, without you. Where are you.

He jerked his head back up, hands drifting over his shirtless torso, over the sweat that was pooling in the dip of his throat, and peered through the trees. The clearing he knew was inside wasn’t visible from this distance, and Kenzie had disappeared around the dip in the path a few paces ahead. Duncan stepped under the canopy of trees; in the forest now, he thought, and shivered a little despite the heat. He forced himself to walk rather than run; Kenzie wouldn’t have gone far, he knew. She’s expecting me to follow. And once she sees the clearing--her heart won’t let her go on. I know her; as I’ve always known her. He turned around a cluster of Virginia pines at the dip in the path, eyes falling on the stream he knew was here, one that had run here for at least a hundred years. An arching, handmade bridge spanned across it--it had once been a dark wine-red, but was now fading into the russet of the forest, the paint chipping away. Duncan listened carefully; the telltale sound of Kenzie’s giggling echoed ahead, the distant slap of the bottom of her shoes. Then, it stopped, and he heard her gasp of delight--she had reached the clearing, that oasis he had found on a night his heart had ached with loneliness for her.

Duncan stepped over the bridge, glancing down at the clearness of the stream, his heart pounding wildly, his head dizzy. He knew the clearing was nearly upon him, through the denseness of the strange cluster of black oaks ahead. He remembered them because they grew oddly close together, as though they were guarding something; as though they were the gatekeepers for a world beyond, one that was different than this one, tinged with mystery. Their leaves grew heavy, dipping low, shielding the space where the path led through them. Duncan lifted his hand to push them aside, lowering his head between the eaves of them, feeling their many-pronged leaves brushing through his hair; as he cleared them, he lifted his eyes, and his breath caught again, but not from running. Fuck me, he thought. I thought I’d remembered how lovely it is, but I didn’t, not really. And there are more flowers now; so many more. It’s as if they all bloomed for her. They knew she was coming.

Kenzie was kneeling in the center of the round clearing--overhead the trees created a canopy of shade that only let slivers of sunlight down onto her, but these seemed to create a circlet of gold around her head--her halo, he thought, immediately overcome with her loveliness. All around her there were wildflowers; little lavender asters with golden centers, clusters of drooping red fuchsias, and the goldenrods he remembered. There were what seemed like a million tiny white, purple and pink alyssum flowers covering the carpet of the forest floor, too--they seemed to have grown in a circular pattern that cascaded from the outward edge of the clearing in swirls that dipped all the way to the center where she sat, her feet tucked under her little dress, her face leaning down to press her nose into the clusters in front of her, her hands delicately trailing down their stems and petals. Duncan felt dizzy again--this wave burst over him with more power than the first, and he reached out a hand to clutch the nearby trunk of the black oak beside him. The trunk was warm--strangely warm, almost--and its roughness was soothing. It seemed to tether him to reality when nothing else wanted to, not the flowers or the sunlight in her hair, not her little face turned down so angelically, not her little sighs of longing and joy, nor the way the clearing seemed to drift around her, its anchor, its center--the flowers seemed to have gathered around her with purpose, though such a thing could not be.

“Kenzie, baby,” he heard his voice call to her softly, untethered from himself; and when she looked up at the sound of his voice, Duncan felt his breath gasp again. Her eyes were glimmering gold once more; gold like they had been in the complete darkness of their bed that night, in the throes of their passion in the shadows, otherworldly and ethereal; though they were not as intensely strange as the ones he’d seen in his dream of her, they reminded him of those eyes, those galaxies she had inside her, and Duncan felt the weight of a universe pressing down on him inside the moment, inside that clearing. He went to her, hearing her speaking to him from inside the halo of where she was sitting; come to me, come to me, Duncan, come here my love.

Yes, angel. Yes, Queen of Roses.

She reached up to him, and Duncan lowered himself into her arms; the clearing was cool, strangely so, drying the sweat from his skin, and there was no breeze here, more strangely still; the trees must grow so closely the wind can’t penetrate them, Duncan thought; but that didn’t seem quite true. He could see the dips of the trees beyond through the circle here; knew that any breeze of earth would easily be able to drift through into the space. But there was only stillness, stillness in her arms. Duncan let his hands drift up into her hair, tangling in the waves, now soft and dry. The scent of the flowers was rising up to him, the dizziness he’d felt at the edge of the clearing dissipating; a deep need for her replaced it, a painfully clear desire to give himself to her in this quiet, secluded place, this place that seemed to be brimming with finespun power. Kenzie’s eyes were coaxing him to a euphoric state of abandon, and the laughter she’d sent out behind her moments ago had metamorphosed to a look of absolute trust on her small features, in the hugeness of her eyes; all her trust, and all the holy sweetness of her power over him reflected therein.

“This place is sacred, Duncan,” she whispered, and the hairs at the back of his neck rose at her words; at the fragility of the tips of her fingers on the bareness of his ribs. “This place feels like it’s part of another world.”

“Maybe it is,” he whispered back, lowering his face to her cheek, brushing his lips down the skin there, tiny kisses that pressed in measured holiness until they reached her mouth, opening to him, the scent of the flowers drifting up into his senses again as her face turned against him, her hair falling through his fingers. Kenzie was sliding into his lap, her legs parting to press the space between them flush to him, their mouths still crushed together, deeper, the small movement of her under him shivering out; he clutched at her as she rose to lean over him, her hair falling into his eyes, against his curls, chestnut-gold in russet-copper. Her hands were on his jaw again, her favorite spot, her hands belong there, lifting him into her, tasting him as though he were the sweet nectar of some wild fruit, and Duncan gave himself over to her, to the need he felt falling onto him from every fiber of her. Her power here, in this place, in this bed of flowers; it was absolute, and he knew it, could sense it. Like the Mirror, like this place--I belong to her. My world turns to her whims, her tiniest pleasures; my life is hers, my toil, every breath from my lungs a prayer to her wonders.

“I’m yours,” he whispered up into her mouth. “Kenzie, you must know how much, oh, god--how I belong to you--”

“I do know, beloved,” and her smile against him made him shiver; the Kenzie in this moment had an overwhelming flood of golden power rushing out of her into him, and he felt weak with it; weak and desirous, overcome with her. “Now, lay back, sweet Prince. Your angel needs your attention.”

Duncan let her push him, the weight of her fingers so slight and yet so entire, into the coolness of the long grass under them. His head crushed into the clusters of tiny alyssum that carpeted the clearing; for a moment, he saw himself through her eyes, dizzyingly, and knew it seemed to her that he wore a crown of flowers for her, oh love, Lord Hades, I know how you’ve dreamt of flowers in my hair, but to see them in yours too, is a delight to my eyes. In this I know you truly are mine; with these flowers I kiss you, I give you my gold.

Kenzie stood; Duncan went to lift up to her, but she shook her head with the tiniest movement, and he knew not to move; he watched her from the alcove of flowers leaning over him, watched her pull the dress over her head, untie the bikini and slide it from her thighs, her shoes discarded to a drifting patch of grasses. She was sweetly naked now; her nakedness so beautiful to him in this place, this (sacred) clearing where once he knew he’d longed for her, and where, now, miraculously, he longed for the reality of her before him, knew she held him in her sway here, knew the gold of her was brimming with power not of the world they knew; that here it was greater, somehow, it was closer to the Kenzie he had seen in the achingly beautiful dream, knew, without knowing how he knew, that she was closer to that Kenzie now than she was to the one who existed outside this circle. She lowered herself onto him, straddling him at the waist, and he shuddered to feel the lips of her sex press down onto the sensitive space below his ribs. She leaned down over him, hair tossing into the alyssum beside his face, her knowing grin shaking his heart into adamant supplication; I need you Kenzie, I need you, need you, bless me, let me give all of myself to you, I beg you--

“You need me, do you, sweet Prince? You, he of great riches and great beauty, lord of many houses, overseer of shadows, soon to be king of many lands--”

“All of these are nothing in your eyes, Goddess of the Golden Bower, High Princess of the Garden of All Delights, Angel of the Hidden Sphere wherein is held the knowledge of all things, supremely exalted in heaven--” for a moment, someone else seemed to speak through Duncan’s lips; he understood his words but not from whence they came, knew their shape, but could not comprehend their meaning--and then--these are her names, he knew. These names belong to my Kenzie, they are her names that I forgot.

Kenzie dipped away from him, and his nerves thrilled as she pressed her hand harshly against his mouth, stopping his words; he watched her expression contort in a way he couldn’t quite decipher; he could feel the rise of her lust, and feel that she could not bear the words he spoke; that somehow they were too much, too great, or too raw a wound for her to allow. Some other self, she thought, the one I was before, the one my mind can’t seem to see, the one my heart can’t comprehend. Her finger went between his lips, pressing hard into his tongue, demanding. No more words, beloved, I can’t stand the beauty of them, I’m--I’m not ready. Not yet.

“Fuck me, Duncan. Right now. I need you.”

“Kenzie, up,” he murmured, and demandingly he pressed his palms against the redness he’d left along her ass cheeks, loving the mingled gasp of pleasure and pain that fell out of her, could feel it wiping her mind clean of her uncertainty; Kenzie’s hands fell above his head into the sweet grass as her cunt bruised against his mouth and his tongue pressed, immediate, into her swollen clit, urging it to sodden preparation. Her voice sobbed up into the trees that covered the clearing, and Duncan thrilled to know no one could hear them; this belongs only to us, no one else can have any of it, and his hands drifted up her back, pressing her onto his face. Her wordless cries almost sounded like a song to him; an otherworldly, ethereal one, fitting for a place such as this, this circle that seemed like the portal to another world, surrounded by the black oaks. He pushed his tongue further into her, dipping it down to the opening of her sex, up to her clit, down the side of either lip of her, making her thighs shake against the sides of his jaw, and he kept his eyes open, open to look at the intensity of her beauty; there it is again, her halo, he knew as her head dipped back and her throat moved, shivered for him, her hair falling back in a waterfall against his fingers, and this time it’s not the sunlight, it’s not the dappled light in the clearing, it’s real, it really is her halo, and it’s like nothing in this world, this mundane world made of rules that bind us to the earth, but another world where we had wings unfathomable to human eyes, where we had clothing woven from a thread that doesn’t exist here. Her halo is the essence of her divinity. My Kenzie is truly a goddess. I can feel that here. In this place, I can see that. Here, I worship her in the truth of her golden light. And he knew.

Oh my fucking god, Kenzie. You are Holy. You’re fucking holy; you really are an angel, or something like an angel--there was a time, somewhere, somehow, where you were something else, a being made of light, higher than humankind. I saw it that first night, when I loved you so immediately; I saw it the first time we fucked in the low light of that dark bed and I longed to be by your side forever from that day, when the thought of you leaving me was like a knife in my heart. This is just the beginning--just the tip of the knowing. More is coming.

“Baby, let me fuck you,” Kenzie’s voice was half whisper, half a cry that rattled at the edges of his mind and she lifted her sex away from him, making him gasp to lose her--she was sliding down his skin, the feeling of her smooth as silk and hot as low fire, to the waistband of his jersey shorts--she snapped it back demandingly, her fingers closing around the base of his cock, sliding down further, further, her mouth dipping onto him for just a moment, scattering wetness along his length, then she lowered herself onto him, so quickly and sleekly he cried out, overcome with her--Kenzie lowered her palm against his cheek and her fingers dug into his skin, down against the incline of the top of his throat, and she was pushing into him, forcing her hand into him, and she murmured “give your hard cock to me, Duncan--” and then she was keening her hips down onto him, riding him with so much force that he felt white spasms of light, like the crackling edges of a bonfire, around the edges of his vision.

“Fuck me, give yourself to me, let me fuck you, give yourself, give to me, dearest love, fairest of all men, and mine alone, chosen one--” Kenzie’s head fell back again, her words drifting into the stillness of the clearing, the coolness, the solitude that was blessed and golden, the holy sweetness of this place that, in this moment, was theirs and theirs alone. Her nipples were achingly hard in the soft, shaded light; Duncan’s hands came up to them as she rode against him, biting harshly into his lip to keep himself from rushing over the edge already; his thighs were prickling with the softness of her swollen ass pressing down onto him, and she was so wet--so exquisitely tight against him--

This place seemed to heighten everything in his body; his sight seemed sharper, bringing every detail of her small features into clarity, the impossible depth in her eyes, the shivering length of her eyelashes, her little lips and their tiny, gathered dew, the little round dip at her nose, the scattered blush at her cheeks, the strands of her hair plastered to her neck in her passionate abandon. The sensation of her in his hands and along his cock was nearly unbearable; he fought the urge to scream, to burst into tears, and the scent of her held a sweetness that seemed, like the air, the aura of this place, not of the earth. The scent of a moonbeam, of moonlight scattered on some place that is paradise--the Garden of All Delights, is that what I called it? Is that what I said to her a moment ago, inside this place, halfway between a dream and reality?

Duncan gripped under Kenzie’s arms and forced her down, crushing his mouth against hers; the heat of her naked body was so exquisite, the warmth of her cunt so divine, he wished she could absorb him inside her somehow, cradle him in the cocoon of her light.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispered, and she gasped, “give yourself to me, just like that, ride up into me, like that, fuck me in these sweet flowers, in this sacred place--because we’re fucking holy, baby, when we’re together, it’s fucking holy, isn’t it--it’s sacred--”

“God, yes, I can feel it, it’s like a--unnnh, it’s like you’re made of sunlight, and you’re sucking me inside you--it’s so fucking lovely, Kenzie, baby--I can’t fucking stand it--”

“Fuck, baby, this place--what is it--” Kenzie was gasping, and to Duncan it felt as though her body were lifting him up into her, not just their skin pressing together here, in the dark green grass bursting with wildflowers, but their souls, twining in a meditation that seemed to exceed the boundaries of what he thought possible; like her wings are there again.

“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know, but fuck--unngh--you feel so good--”

Her hand came down again, against his mouth, her index and middle fingers pressing inside his teeth, her hips rhythmic now, back and forth along his length, his fingers coming up to dip into her clit and soothe the deep wetness there, pressing the lips of her to the sides. He could feel it now; the vibrating air, the space of this sacred circle, feel that it wasn’t just their own imagining; for a moment it was as though the circle of black oaks became unstuck, and the spirals of the flowers growing in their twisting pattern turned to a hidden beltway of galaxy, and they had ascended to that other place, the place of in their dreams, made of the sunrise colors that were moving beyond any language he had ever heard, the colors of time and things beyond time.

And then--then they were crashing back to earth, the circle tethered once more, locking back into its place, and Kenzie was falling against him, and he felt his orgasm rushing up into her intense heat, closed his eyes in his overwhelmed idolatry of her--I am the cup that runs over with the abundance of your grace--and they were coming together, crying into each other’s mouths, her little fingers on his face, flitting over his eyelids and along this stubble and against his forehead, beating softly like butterfly wings as she shuddered down onto him and he held her as tightly as he could, crushing her into him, wishing they could be together like this always, that the moment of their inevitable parting would simply never come.

------

Kenzie was laying against him now, in the crook under his arm (her spot, the place she was torn away from me); her hair was scattered back, his hand toying with its soft strands, absent-mindedly. They lay in the center of the clearing, the flowers still crushing around his head, the soft afternoon light scattering through the black oaks onto the long green grass that grew so strangely verdant here. Duncan had noticed, with a strange sort of calm, that the trees outside the circle would drift now and again in the wind; but that the leaves of these trees, the ones that created the circle, did not.

“I almost never want to leave this place,” he murmured to her. Kenzie’s eyes were closed, her cheek on the corner of his chest, her breath small and calm; she’d slipped her bikini bottoms back on, as Duncan had pulled the waistband of his shorts back over his softening cock, but she was still topless, the softness of her breasts pressing against him. “There’s something about it that’s so peaceful. Like the rest of the world can’t get in. Like only we can.”

“Baby,” and Kenzie was turning her head up to him. “What were those names you called me before? They were so beautiful. What did they mean?”

“Kenz, I--” Duncan drifted a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know, honestly. I’m not sure what I was saying. It’s something about--something about this place. It put the thought of them inside me. Like I was remembering something I’d forgotten. Like when you relearn words in a language you haven’t heard for a long time.”

Kenzie didn’t say anything more, just brought her fingers up to his stubbled chin. She seemed to be thinking, but as he knew she could if she willed it, she seemed to have closed her thoughts away from him again. He ached to hear her; he pulled her in closer to him, so her leg dipped over his thigh in their flowery bed. The light was lowering; he wondered what time it was, how long they’d laid here in the quietness. He lifted a hand up and picked a pink alyssum from where a cluster dipped down over them, bringing it around a wave of her golden hair and weaving it through, then did the same with a white flower, and a purple one--eventually there were a dozen flowers he’d braided into her, and Kenzie was smiling at him quietly, not moving, head crooked under her arm, eyes sleepy but watchful.

“I like you with flowers in your hair too, baby,” she murmured. “For our wedding you should wear a crown of flowers, too.”

“Thought you hadn’t decided if you were going to say yes to me or not,” he whispered, hoisting himself up to look down at her now. Goddess of the Golden Bower. That had been one of them.

“I mean our theoretical wedding.”

He grinned at that, then drifted back into seriousness. There are things I realize now, Kenzie. It’s like I can’t speak them out loud though, not yet. Is that what you’re closing away from me? The things you know about me, too? Did you hear me when we fucked? Did you hear that I know you’re holy? That you really are some kind of angel--that you were, once?

Kenzie made no indication that she heard these thoughts from him, either--she was drifting up from her sleepy position, the flowers he’d woven into her hair shivering around her shoulders. She reached her hands up into the air, legs tucked under her, and stretched, yawning, cat-like. Duncan immediately reached for her, pulling her against him, overcome with her again, lost for words, fumbling to speak. Kenzie seemed to sense his emotion, and pressed her lips in an earnest kiss into his neck, whispering “oh Duncan, how I love you,” and he knew there was nothing he needed to say, then--that everything between them was known, and he could enfold himself safely into her, and the outside world was impossibly far away in the understanding of her love.

They lingered that way for a little while, Duncan’s hand in her hair, the tiny remnants of the scent of roses and vetiver on her skin mixed in with the alyssum and the sun-dried earthiness of her hair now, then Kenzie pulled away from him and stood, gathering her other clothes and her shoes, reaching out her hand. He pulled himself up to her, his body immediately towering over her tiny one, and she pulled the bikini top around her waist, turning to him and brushing her hair aside; Duncan laced it back together, kissing her neck.

“We left the picnic basket on the dock, I guess we should go get it,” Kenzie said, glancing up into the black oaks one more time; Duncan followed her eyes to where the round patch of sky above was deepening into a darker blue, the hints of oncoming sunset beginning to bleed around the edges of the trees. Soon the stars will be out, baby. You’ll see.

“We should gather some of these flowers first,” he said, pulling the dress gently out of her hands and gathering it so she could dip her head into its neckline. Duncan straightened the hem around her thighs as she pulled her arms through it, then turned to pick some, but Kenzie stopped him, grasping his fingers.

“No, baby, let’s do it tomorrow. Let’s come here tomorrow morning, when the sun is rising--and gather them in the sunrise. Can we do that? I want to be--I want to gather them that way. In the sunlight.”

Duncan nodded. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want. That sounds lovely.”

She was pulling him out of the flowers now; out of the halo of oaks, back into the forest. As they left the shrouded enclosure of the huge trees, growing so closely together in their strange way, Duncan breathed out a long sigh--the air seemed to suck back into him, the wind immediately raising the hairs on his arms. It was as though they’d walked through a door back into the outside world from the shadowed interior of a house, its floors made of long grasses and wildflowers.

“That’s so--” Kenzie hesitated, pausing, faltering. “That place, Duncan.”

“You said it yourself, Kenzie, and you were right. It’s sacred. It was the first place I felt you, even when we were so far away from each other once. It was the first time I knew you were out there somewhere--that I missed you.”

She nodded, eyes bright, hand tight inside his. “It’s thin there, isn’t it?”

Duncan knew what she meant; he felt it, deep within his bones, the certainty of it. Yes, my love. It’s thin there; and the barrier between this world and whatever else there is--whatever is outside it--is barely there in that place. We felt another world bumping up against us there; our past. Our future. And other things. Things too great to even describe.

“Yes, Kenzie. I think so. I think you’re right.”

Kenzie nodded a little again, then, clutching his hand tightly, she led him down the path to the bridge; he could hear the eerie cry of a loon far off in the distance somewhere--probably on the lake--and he shivered, threading his fingers against hers, contented to be led by her. Led anywhere. Led into hell if you willed it. Led into an abyss if that was your wish. But no. I know you’ll lead me into heaven. I know it, and it amazes my soul.

Soon they were out of the woods. A cool gust of wind drifted toward them from the lake, smelling of earthy rot, grass baked in sunlight, and the oncoming dew of the evening, and as Duncan lifted his eyes to its serene surface, he was moved anew by its beauty in the oncoming sunset--the sky had begun to turn shades of pink and apricot, and they reflected on the lake’s face with a passionate kiss.

“Wow, Duncan. It looks like…” Kenzie trailed off, squeezing his hand. Her eyes misted, glancing earthward to hide her emotion; but he knew--for I see into your thoughts, beloved, and therefore, into your soul--what she was trying to say. It looks like that other place. The one with colors we can’t describe. I know, baby. I know. She looked up to him, went up on her toes, gripping into his bare shoulders to kiss him. Holy. He felt her shiver a little as another gust of wind fell over them, the flowers he’d twined into her hair falling against her cheek.

“Go get a sweater, baby, it got chilly. I’ll get the picnic basket.”

“Can we make a fire? The weather tonight is perfect. Then we can lay under the stars all night, until the sun rises.” She was grinning against him, her little chin pressing into his skin, her eyes inside his, eyelashes so long, her softness like the rose petals that had been in her hair last night--like the petals she’d slipped inside his wallet, a memory. I want to remember every minute I’ll ever have with you, I wish I could, I wish I could memorize every tiny part of everything.

He pressed his hand down from her head. “Of course we can. I can’t wait to show you the spot--the place where you can see everything. Every star in the sky. And tonight’s so clear--baby, it’s like everything is coming together. I feel so--it’s like they did this for us--”

“The Fates.”

“Yes. Kenzie--I love you.”

“And I love you. To the moon and back.”

Duncan’s heart clenched, knowing that was what she said to Madeline; knowing it was sacred, special, held close, shared between two women, tied to the feminine parts of her, secret and achingly personal. Knowing that saying it to him was a wildly intimate permission from her; knowing that the thing that had passed between them in the holy embrace of their passion under the black oaks was a piece of something vast and yet, somehow, coming together, like a thousand intricate threads of a tapestry that encompassed a universe. He felt as though he’d passed some sort of deeply difficult test; one of utter trust, one innately tied to her femininity.

To share ourselves with each other means to open our hearts to each other utterly; not just our hopes, but our secret fears, our quiet anxieties, our uncertainty, and all our vulnerabilities. In the woods, under those trees, flowers in my hair, I touched something divine in a way I hadn’t before. You felt it, too, didn’t you, my Kenzie?

Her eyes heard him, and recognized him, russet, green and gold. Yes, Duncan. Yes, my exalted love.

Kenzie turned away from him, lightning-quick--he watched her run down the path and disappear around the gazebo; a minute later he saw a warm light spill from its opening as she flicked on the lantern there, then he watched her little shape flitting out and up to the deck, hair swaying, her shoes slapping up the path, the sliding door opening then slamming behind her. The swing drifted, creaking in the breeze--the loon called out again, from somewhere far away on the lake, the canoe slapping against the dockside. Duncan shivered in the sudden solitude, walking down to the dock to gather the basket up, gazing out on the color reflected on the surface of the lake once more, lost in thoughts of otherworldly vistas, of ethereal, angelic clouds. He turned back to the house, lost inside his thoughts of the wood, the strange names he’d called her in his passion, the new knowledge, the certainty of her divinity--one he still couldn’t find words to describe to her. Maybe under the stars I’ll find them. Maybe with the universe looking down on us, I can speak what I know in my heart to her.

Maybe then I can tell her what I know now: that she really is an angel. Or she was. Or she will be.

That she truly is divine.

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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BODY AND SOUL Part 17 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So I did a very rough outline of everything else I want to happen in this fic and I’m gonna tentatively say we’re halfway through it; I don’t know how long any given part is until I write it, so that might be wrong, but we’ll see! I at least have an endpoint in mind, though there’s a lot of stuff in between that endpoint and now, so never fear, Duckenzies, Duckenzie aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. I listened to ODESZA’s album A Moment Apart a lot while I wrote this chapter; that’s an album about LOVE for sure, so it’s very Duckenzie (I love Boy especially, a song that is pure Cody in my eyes--as rapturously beautiful as he is). I LOVED writing about Duncan putting Kenzie’s clothes away; clothes are such a big part of my life and are so important to me and they tell such an intimate story about a person, and clothing continues to be an important theme in this fic. The framed picture of Kenzie and Madeline is based on a real photo of Billie and Carrie (@hi-ilovedamien used it in one of the Instagram edits she made for my fic). The one of Kenzie and Claire is based on the fact that Billie and Leslie are super close IRL and love to go to Disneyland together (follow their Instagrams for plenty of proof on that one), and the one of Kenzie with her father is based on on this photo of Billie and her dad Bryan Lourd. Everything Duncan picks out for Kenzie on Agent Provocateur’s website is really from them except for the rose choker: this is the white lingerie, this is the black lingerie, this is the kimono, this is the sleeping set. The rose choker is real, it just isn’t from AP, but I included it there anyway because they do have a choker section on their website. Here’s Duncan’s Givenchy sunglasses. Stoked to finally include mention of Duncan’s private plane, it’ll show up more in the future. I couldn’t find a mirror that looks quite like theirs: this is about the right size, so imagine it gilded in gold grape vines, and you get the idea. I found Duncan’s study desk, by the way. The peacock clockwork in Stapleton’s Antiques is something like this but bigger and just the peacock. Frederick isn’t an AU, he’s my character, but he definitely has some weird ancestry and a belief in the occult; he knew the mirror was magickal in nature, though he kept that mostly to himself. His story about the Vicountess isn’t quite accurate, but she was indeed a witch. Jack Rose is a real whiskey bar in DC and my friend/coworker Christina told me about it, so my including it is a nod to her because she hasn’t watched APOCALYPSE or HOUSE OF CARDS and doesn’t even know who Cody or Billie are and still listens to me talk about this fic CONSTANTLY at work and at least pretends to be interested, thanks babe, you are great. I had a lot of fun including Tyler, my Taylor Lautner AU, in this part, and based his look on this photo from when he and Billie were still dating. Here’s Claire’s dress at the bar. Here’s Nat King Cole’s THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU, a very Duckenzie song. Regarding the sex: Duncan enjoys doing what Kenzie tells him to do more than anything--any domination of her is always tinged with her needs. They’re both switchers in the bedroom (you’ve probably noticed), but Duncan does what Kenzie wants him to do, important to keep in mind--she really enjoys the ways he dominates her, so she asks for those things, but the decision is primarily hers and he follows her leads. Once you’ve been having sex for awhile, you start to notice that once in awhile, you have a really fucking great orgasm among a bunch of other pretty great orgasms, and the fucking great, lost-in-nothing-for-awhile, screaming-involuntarily-because-its-that-fucking-intense kind are the kind of orgasms Duncan and Kenzie have in this part. I hope all of y’all reading along have an orgasm like that at some point in your lives, cuz it’s always one for the books.

Duncan had watched Kenzie run away from him, down the hall to the elevators--which somehow slid open immediately, as if to mock him in his longing--and ached. My Persephone, leaving me; only to return to me later, her hair full of flowers, her skin smelling of nature, trees, the clear air, and sweet herbs. Kenzie’s eyes gazed across to him as the doors slid shut once more, and they were golden and green, her little mouth smiling, her tawny hair over her shoulder, the roundness of her thighs visible above the long black boots--he blinked, the vision of wings, the vision of her wings flashing across his eyes again, residue from the dream--it had been so vivid, so bright, and the emotion in him had been overwhelming, like a storm. And then she was gone, and he was staring at the doors, breathless with her memory. I know we can’t always be together, but god, the hole she leaves when she isn’t tucked under my arm. It’s like a raw wound. He turned from the entrance of the penthouse, letting the door swing shut behind him--not realizing his hand was at his jaw, trailing over his lips. The darkness he’d felt coiled in the pit of him in that dream rested there still, along the lining of him, with a sticky and sickeningly heavy residue--the divinity of her light in it still tingled along the edge of of his mind, the smell of her hair dancing through his fingers, and he lifted his fingers to his nose and breathed in--roses, vetiver, geranium, and the sweet muskiness that was the crook of her mouth and the space between her legs. Now she is everywhere here, he thought, satisfied, looking over at the little bowl he’d handed her an hour ago, now empty of granola and fruit and in the sink, silver spoon resting inside it, wet with the residue of milk and berries. Now there is a small gold lining in every corner of this place, painted with the finest brush, and it dazzles me.

He thought of the tears they’d shed against each other in the darkness of the room that was now their bedroom as their bodies had shuddered in release; the terror and wondrous beauty of the realization that no, I haven’t been dreaming words into her, the words and emotions and colors I’ve felt have really been coming from her, and somehow, beyond all understanding, sometimes, I can hear Kenzie’s thoughts and feel what she is feeling, and the gold I see is her soul, kissing into me with the most tender of touches, shivering down onto me like a paper-thin wave of sunlight. And god, it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever fucking felt; it’s more beautiful than anything I can see with my eyes, it’s like a boon from beyond time, and my body and soul are abject and amplified in her. The words and feelings I’ve felt towards her, from her--they feel as though I’ve pulled them from deep memories, as if I’ve begun to awaken from an ageless sleep I’ve slept for eons, and she was there at the beginning of that sleep, and now, having finally woken, she is here again, as it was always meant to be. Duncan found himself lost in these thoughts, hands trailing through his hair, as he leaned down to where he’d left his smooth black iPhone on the nightstand, idly opening the Instagram app and going to Kenzie’s profile--already I miss her face, already I want to look at it again, anyway I can. @kenzielouwho. Duncan noticed she’d now amassed over a million followers--his heart twinged with a vague worry, thinking of the man who’d gotten into the Post building yesterday, her little tear-stained face pressing into his shirt, the trembling in her body, her cheeks white, eyes haunted with shock. A million strangers and how many of them want to hurt her? His blood felt cold, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling. If only I could shield her from every hurt, always. If only I could be sure she would always be safe. The thought of Kenzie being hurt filled him with a terrible dread, a nameless emotion beyond terror, beyond despair--a sorrow that felt like a dagger plunging into his ribs and rending his body in two. But Duncan pushed the fear out of him with a stern hand, the voice of reason in his mind cutting it off. Your Kenzie is marvelously brave and as beautiful as the full moon rising on a clear night, as the stars turning in the heavens. Trust her. She can do this. She can be in this world. She has a heart made of melted gold, you’ve pressed your lips to it, and you know she is stronger than you are. With her, you will create wonders. You will move mountains.

He went to the photo she’d taken and posted the night before--the two of them in the shadowy backseat of the BMW, neon lights drifting across his cheek and her forehead, her wide eyes, framed by heavy lashes, staring out at him; his profile pressed to her, his expression serene. The longest day, the greatest love. Oh, beloved. Kenzie. Truly you are my greatest love. My only love. The One. He scrolled idly through the comments; scores of heart emojis and reaction faces and stunned, excited comments, some bitter towards her, and Duncan felt twinges of resentment around his heart at them--you don’t know her light, you can’t know, whoever you are, how dare you, as if you know her and you fucking don’t--even though he knew these emotions, sent out into the ether, were essentially useless. Most of the comments, however, seemed genuinely positive--some bordered on obsessively enamored, fervent, worshipful. #Duckenzie are forever love one said, followed by neon hearts that matched the colors falling across his and Kenzie’s faces in the photo.

I want them to adopt me followed by a long line of sobbing emojis

You are the most beautiful couple of all time, King and Queen of Earth

They’re like something from a fairy tale, I can’t even handle it asfajhdlghslgha

@DUNCANSHEPHERD PUT A RING ON IT

Shepherd Unlimited: now the most powerful company AND the most powerful couple in the world

#DUCKENZIE FOR PRESIDENT(S) SCRATCH THAT WE ARE NOW A MONARCHY

I wanna be right in the middle of that Duckenzie sandwich like fuck my bi ass up

Their energy is too powerful to even look at, I’ve gone blind

Duncan clicked through to his own profile; he’d amassed another 20k followers since the last time he looked at it, bringing him past 8 million, and he gazed down at the two photos of her that were his most recent posts, each with over 170k and 180k likes; one of Kenzie sleepily leaning against the backseat of the BMW in afternoon sunlight; the other of her gazing down happily at the succulent in the oversized tee shirt, damp hair on her shoulder. I could look at these all day, he thought. But Duncan remembered, looking up; he’d asked if he could organize her things, and she’d said yes. The thought of putting Kenzie’s little clothes in his closet thrilled him, made his head hazy, made him hard; Duncan stood, bare feet feeling the thick rug that extended far around the bed--he moved beyond it to the dark hardwood, reaching for her clothes on the hanging rack in the corner. He turned toward the doorway for a moment, eyes falling over the wall beside it; that’s where the mirror should go, he thought. The side of the bed facing it clearly; and the hook we’ll hang from the ceiling above it, the hook will be right in front of it, close, so we can fuck there, standing, her little arms extended by the soft rope and her body stretched out to me, and she can press her sweetness down onto my mouth and I can watch myself eat her, watch the pleasure in her eyes and the tremble of her body, prostrate to me there, I can watch my worship, I can see every delicate turn of her and be smitten again and again, besotted in her, angel baby…

Duncan shivered and turned back to her clothes, hands trailing along in them; the smell of her rose off them in a delicate wave, and he felt drunk on it. He carefully lifted the hangers up, taking only a few pieces at a time into the closet, gazing down at them; her beautiful little dresses, babydoll and bodycon and with flowing skirts, and long-sleeved button-downs and turtle and mock necks, low-cut blouses and high-necked form-fitting tops and v-necks and wrap tops, some with prints of flowers or celestial bodies or patterns, and some lovely dresses in white and cream and sand, but most of them in solid, earth-tone colors. He lined them beside the new things she’d bought and hung in the closet the other day; he felt greedy, wanted more there, wanted the whole closet to be full of her things so he could stare at them and smell them and drink them in; wanted her gold on everything. His eyes fell over the red dress he’d gotten her at Nancy’s shop--the one that had kindled feverish lust in him, made him press his fingers between her legs and coax her into an orgasm on his lap, and he thought of the fall of her hair and her little teeth when she smiled and laughed and the bob of her throat when she was sad, tears streaking down her cheeks, and he shivered again. She is so beautiful. It makes my heart fucking ache. He thought of her pressing kisses between his shoulders this morning; you aren’t dark, baby. You aren’t. Duncan thought of all the things he’d done at his mother’s bidding for the furtherment of Shepherd Unlimited; thought of the app that he knew was mining people’s personal information, the hidden overseas accounts, his Uncle’s attempts to unseat President Underwood; he wondered if, in this case, it was wrong to hope his Uncle’s death would come soon. If one man causes so much suffering to others, is his death truly something to mourn? Only when Bill was gone would they be able to reshape Shepherd Unlimited into something that could cease harming others and begin to aid them. We have so much, he marveled, staring at the delicate pieces of Kenzie’s wardrobe, having finished hanging everything from the rack across from his dark monochrome clothes on the other side. How can I not have seen it before, really seen it, and known that I needed to reshape the company to help the rest of the world? That’s what I’m meant to do. I see that now. Kenzie has brought not only her light across everything in my life; she’d kindled the desire in me to further that light to touch as many people as I can. The Fates have blessed us, and I think they expect us to share those blessings further. She was meant to open my heart and my eyes to everything. Kenzie’s clothing juxtaposed sharply with his; the earthy tones of her, the shadowy tones of him. Persephone comes to Hades in his dark realm and kisses sweet flowers into his mouth, bringing him back to life from his cold death-state. She kindles the latent embers of his soul; stokes them back to a burning fire in his heart.

For her. It’s all for her. All for you, Kenzie. My body and my soul.

Duncan continued to move Kenzie’s things carefully into the closet with studied reverence; he had always been neat by nature, having been raised by a meticulous mother and taught that discretion was of paramount importance, coordination and careful study the measure of one’s mettle, and he organized the clothing in the boxes according to style and function and then by color; starting with whites and moving down through the rainbow to gray and black at the end. He moved on to two other boxes that held her shoes; the strappy sandals she was wearing them they met (he cradled them affectionately), little kitten heels he knew she wore to work sometimes, suede boots in black and saddle, more heeled sandals and flat sandals and black heels with pointed toes; Duncan loved how small they were, marveled at the size of her little feet, and carefully lined them on the shelves he’d cleared for them on the opposite side of the one that had dozens of pairs of his black boots and dress shoes along it. He marveled, shyly, at her, seemingly, scores of pairs of panties (some silky, some cotton, in every color and style he could think of--brief ands bikini and lacy and thongs--and a particular box that seemed to have only comfortable boycuts, most of them with period stains, and he carefully placed those in a bottom drawer together) and the loveliness of her bras; soft and silky, their small cups sliding through his fingers. Looking at her underthings just made Duncan long to buy her more--he thought of her in lacy, flowing lingerie, a garter belt and suspenders and a lacy chiffon robe, her chestnut hair falling around her shoulders, the Tiffany moon at her throat, glittering in low light, and his mind grew hazy with the sweetness of the thought. He looked down at the little labels on one of the bras and on her panties, committing her size to memory. It’d been a long time since he’d bought lingerie for a woman (most of the romantic attachments with women in his life up until now hadn’t lasted long enough for him to do something so intimate for them)--it had been for Misha, ancient history--and Duncan vaguely hoped, thinking as he slipped on a pair of black cashmere socks, that Kenzie wouldn’t mind him picking out something so intimate for her; she was so fierce in her own stylistic preferences, after all. But now that he’d carefully looked at her wardrobe, he felt sure he knew what she would like, and what she wouldn’t. Her clothes are a little piece of her soul; the way my clothes are a little piece of mine. They tell a story about her; the story of her gold aura and her bravery and how hard she works, the way she guards herself, the trembling delicacy of her emotions, with what she wears, the lovely scent of her and the shape of her and the interest she has in nature and in colors, in space and stars and celestial images, in cuts that flatter her body and make her feel comfortable and make her feel attractive. It’s a lovely wardrobe. If I didn’t already love her, I would after I saw it this way, this closely; if I’d seen this wardrobe out of a hundred others, I feel I’d know it on sight as hers, even if I’d never met her. I don’t know I know that, but I know. Duncan looked inside some of the other boxes the movers had stacked along the wall; some had books in them, more of her little jewelry boxes (one was a little gold-embossed, mirrored tray full of tiny rings, another a Victorian-style box with bracelets inside, including the twisting one she’d worn the night he first saw her on the balcony); one had her constellation bedspread, others her beautiful little tchotchkes; her moon alarm clock, crystal towers and geodes and incense and other lovely things that felt like her and looked like her and smelled like her to him, delicate, gold-sheened: an array of tiny china birds, her moon and sun wind chimes, framed pictures of her with Madeline (Kenzie was sitting on her lap, clutching her mother’s face close, eyes turned down, and Duncan’s affection for her fell over him in a wave again), one of her with Claire at Disney World (both of them in Mickey ears holding Mickey ice cream bars, grinning with happy abandon), and another with her in a black dress, golden hair over her shoulder, and an older, balding man with a friendly smile; clearly her father. He looked over them lovingly, but didn’t presume to move them--she could put them anywhere she wanted, where she wanted them, because this space belonged to her now, too, and anything of hers was a boon to him, a bright little piece of her blessing a space that had been cold and empty of warmth to him for so long.

Duncan went out to the vast space of his open living room in the quiet daylight, stepping over to where the Bouguereau prints stretched between Dike and Nike, his arms crossed in contemplation; he’d always found them beautiful, but now they seemed unearthly in their beauty to him; each of the aspects of the cycle of the day reminded him of Kenzie now; each one was her, her turning her body under him in the shadow of the evening, her lifting her face to kiss him, her reaching across his body to put her little hands around him, the aspect of her sleeping face against the pillow. He hesitated, contemplating going into the study to look at The Youth of Bacchus, but stopped himself; something about it was tied irrevocably to her now, and he longed to look at her looking at it instead; the wondrous affectation of her eyes moving over it, entranced. I should look up the next auction at Sotheby’s, he thought. That blank wall in the bedroom...and our birthdays are soon. I want to dedicate more than the Gala to her. I want to dedicate art, all the beauty I see, and my life, to her. She deserves absolutely everything. She deserves a painting of her own, one that reminds me of her, given with all my love.

Duncan went to the low leather couch, opening his Macbook there and glancing at his emails, but not opening any of them, even though he noticed a very important message there that he’d been waiting for; from the President’s secretary, in reply to a correspondence he’d begun a few days before. He saw the first line in the preview; President Underwood has agreed to see you on Thursday. Midday is best, around 2 PM. She isn’t feeling up to talking for very long--and then it cut off. Perfect, he thought. Just need to get in the door. He went out of his email and opened a new tab, typing into the bar at the top of the screen: agentprovocateur.com. As he scrolled through the models in delicate lingerie, Duncan’s thoughts were full of Kenzie; her golden hair falling down her back, her eyes on him over her shoulder, the round rise of her ass and her gorgeous, curvy hips under his hands, the tiny hairs around the lips of her sex, the roundness of her little nipples growing hard under his fingers, her delicate collarbones, the space under her ear that fit so well into his hand, the softness of her there under his lips, her wide hazel eyes, flecks of gold and bronze whirling in their depth, framed by long eyelashes that battered into his heart when she looked at him--he felt continually swept away under her gaze, as though it took him again and again into another world, one where they were alone and undisturbed, free to look into each other for ages and contemplate the wonder of the other. My Kenzie. My heart. The half of me that was ripped away, the half of me I found again, somehow, miraculous, trembling like rain on roses, my heart whole again.

Duncan chose two full lingerie sets for her. One was in black, with intricate, criss-crossing geometric embellishments in transparent tulle along the bust and suspenders, with long, sheer black stockings. The second was sheer nude with white flowering lace embellishments and white banding, with bows on the suspenders and the front of the panties, the breasts exposed (I can’t wait to press my mouth against her there through the tulle, feel the beating of her heart under her breasts with my lips while she watches me in the mirror, tied up nice and tight), and sheer stockings. The thought of Kenzie wearing them set a bonfire in the center of him; made the back of his neck tingle, coiled heat between his thighs. Duncan went to the section titled cuffs, chokers and bodychains, his skin humming, his breath catching as his eyes fell on a thick, black buckled choker with a silver stemmed rose attached to the front of it. He imagined Kenzie wearing it, staring up at him as he tied her wrists into velvet ropes, and he felt another wave of dizzy desire wash over him. Oh, fuck, baby. My little rose; roses on the balcony, roses in the bathtub, roses here on this table that I got for you because they remind me of you, my rose. I’m going to fucking devour you. To him it seemed as though the choker had been made just for her--the better for me to adorn her in worship. He added it to the cart, imagining the look in her eyes when she opened the telltale pink box and saw it nestled between the tissue paper, and Duncan felt himself harden with a shiver. Be patient, she’d told him. He wondered when she would tie him up. Duncan looked down at the screen again, coming back from his thoughts.

He also picked out a short black silk kimono with a tying sash and flowing lace embellishments at the hem and sleeves, and a sleeping shorts-and-top set in pink satin with straps and black lace around the open neckline. As much as Duncan loved Kenzie sleeping in his graphic tees, he couldn’t help but feel she deserved something more beautiful to wear to sleep; as beautiful as she was, as delicate and fascinating. And I have my own selfish reasons, he thought, blushing unbeknownst to himself in the quiet morning light, going to the checkout and typing in his Black AmEx card number, choosing next-day shipping. She’s so fucking beautiful and I want to see her in finespun beautiful things that look like they came from heaven like she did before I carefully undress her, over and over and over, and kiss every inch of her body for as long as she’ll let me. Duncan thought of his dream of her that morning again; the wings from her back, the iridescence of the halo that hovered around her, the serene expression in her eyes, like galaxies turning in their obscure orbits; they’d been in some celestial ether, a clouded place of blushing colors, and he had knelt before her, stunned by her. The dream had felt...not like a dream, somehow, in that it was real, in that it was the past, or the future, or something that was happening somehow; something that had happened in another time, or was going to happen, or was going on in this moment in some other place. Duncan felt dizzy--the details of the dream were slipping away little by little, but he tried to grasp at the image of her in it; paint its outline onto his memory. If I can remember just that, the halo and her wings and her face looking at me with such love and concord, so much compassion for me, a dark and lowly creature. That’s enough.

Duncan leaned back from his Macbook, hitting the home button on his phone, clutched in his palm, going into his contacts absent-mindedly, thoughts still on the dream of Kenzie, and highlighting a certain name there. Frederick Stapleton. Frederick had been the most trusted antiques dealer for the Shepherd family for two decades. He’d found Duncan’s mahogany study desk (19th century--Kenzie sitting on it, naked, staring at me with velvet rope) and had been curating Annette’s personal collection for the better part of his career. He’ll know where I can find what I’m looking for. Duncan hit the call button and held the phone up to his ear. It rang four times, then a warm voice floated through.

“Stapleton Antiques.”

“Frederick, it’s Duncan Shepherd. How are you?”

“Ah, Duncan, what an unexpected surprise. I’m well--very well, actually, we recently got in several exquisite pieces from 17th century France, if you’re in the market, though I deign to part with them, honestly, they are so exceptional--”

“Frederick, thank you, no, I have a very important request.”

“I’m listening. You know I love a challenge.”

“I need a mirror. A very large standing mirror. Gilded would be ideal; something beautiful….something exceptionally beautiful. Maybe 8 or 9 feet.”

There was silence on the other side of the phone for a few moments, then a satisfied chuckle from Frederick; he was well over 80 now, but Duncan was pleased to hear the vibrancy of his voice through the phone; still full of life.

“I think I have just the thing. Can you come by today?”

“I can come right now. Thank you, Frederick, I knew I could count on you for this.”

“You, of course, were right, Mr. Shepherd.”

“Half an hour?”

“Very good, Mr. Shepherd. I think you’ll be very pleased.”

“See you then.”

Duncan hung up, standing and slipping his phone into his back pocket, fingers idly trailing through his hair, coming down to rest around his chin as he went to the closet, choosing one of the dozen pairs of Yves Wyatt black boots on the rack of his shoes towards the middle of the walk-in’s length; he turned for a moment, staring again at Kenzie’s little shoes he’d lined carefully on the opposite shelf, his gaze zeroing in on the sandals he remembered untying delicately from her feet, his lips on the red stripes they’d made on her ankles, that first press of their bodies together, whiskey making him bold in the face of her loveliness. His skin felt hot and flushed; nervous energy was sliding along it, his anticipation singing. He’d never known Frederick to be one to boast; if he said he had what Duncan described, he had it. God, I still wish my mother hadn’t insisted on fitting her today like this, though, Duncan thought with frustration, choosing a pair of Givenchy aviators from one of the adjacent shelves that held his dozen pairs of black designer sunglasses in varying styles. I wish she could come with me, if she doesn’t love it absolutely it isn’t good enough. It has to be perfect. The thought of them being able to spend the whole day together tomorrow was humming in the back of his mind, a secret thrill of joy and relief. Our first whole day together, just the two of us. Nobody to tell us where we have to be. God, I hope she likes those pieces I ordered. She’s going to look so fucking beautiful in them, I might just fucking die. Duncan thought vaguely of looking at his emails before he left, but a heightened kind of abandon was building behind his temples. It can wait. Everything can wait. Kenzie is more important than all of this, any of this. She told me she wants me to do this today while she’s gone, and her wish is my command, my duty. So emails, fuck off.

Duncan slid the aviators over his eyes, switching his phone out of his pocket to call an Uber Black, sliding his Ferragamo wallet into it instead, and left the penthouse, letting the long black door swing smoothly shut behind him, his thoughts full of her, her gold-flecked hazel eyes. Whatever you want, baby. Anything you want.

------

Duncan arrived at the antique shop about twenty minutes later--Stapleton Antiques was a stylish, squarish mid-century brick building partially hidden by two very old oaks on either side of its eaves, a well-kept secret with almost exclusively seven-figure clients. They didn’t even have a sign; you either knew what it was, or you didn’t. Duncan thanked his driver and stepped out of the Mercedes that had picked him up, the anxious energy humming along under his skin again. He glanced down at his Movado, eyes skirting over the edge of his sunglasses; it was just a little after 2 PM. He wondered idly what Kenzie was doing, how she was faring with his stern mother, how she was feeling. He pulled his phone out on the sidewalk and opened his text messages, sending one to Kenzie.

Hope everything is going okay, baby. I think I found the mirror. I’ll send you a picture in a minute when I get inside to look at it. Please tell me what you think, if it isn’t perfect, I’ll keep looking. He hit send, hesitated for a moment, then typed again.

I realized tomorrow is our first full day together without any interruptions. I was thinking we could go to the beach. What do you think? We have house in Yarmouth, around Cape Cod. We can just go for the day and fly back with the jet. It’ll be just us: just me and you. It’s supposed to be sunny and beautiful tomorrow. I just wanna hold you and kiss you in the sand.

He saw the telltale bubbles appear under his message almost immediately; Duncan marveled at the way his nerves thrilled at the prospect of her answer. All I want is to be near her, to talk to her, to listen to her speak, to read her words or look at her. Nothing else is so wonderful. Nothing.

Kenzie: WOW, baby, that sounds AMAZING! Yes!!! I didn’t realize you had a jet, though I guess I should have assumed that. That sounds so perfect, like a dream. I’m not with Annette anymore, I’m at Morgan’s studio, the designer Claire works for. Erik’s here. He’s going to help us decide what I should wear for the Gala and Morgan’s going to make it.

The bubbles appeared again, and then another text.

Your mom and I got into an argument. I mentioned you’d told me that you’re going to be co-chairman of the company when your Uncle passes away. She didn’t like that very much. I’m sorry I said something but she was trying to bait me again and I lost my temper and told her I deserve to know important things about your life. She left after that and Erik and I went on with the dress planning alone.

Of course they got into an argument, Duncan thought. You’re the one who fucking demanded Kenzie come do this fitting with you, Mom, and then you storm out. You treat her terribly and expect her to just put up with it. Not my Kenzie. He tried to quell the anger the immediately rose in him towards his mother and took a deep breath, shutting his eyes; changing Shepherd Unlimited is going to be an uphill battle the whole way. Thank whatever gods may be that I have Kenzie by my side now.

Baby, he replied, it’s okay. You DO deserve to know, you’re right. And eventually she’s going to see that too. My mother is a very stubborn person but I know she wants what’s best for me. She just needs to accept that what’s best for me is you. I’m so glad Erik is still with you. He’s trustworthy.

Duncan lowered the phone in his hand and stepped into the brick building, taking his sunglasses off and tucking them into the dip of his shirt; the musty smell of very old wood enveloped him, but the interior was meticulously clean; anything displayed in the front (chests and Tiffany lamps and crystal chandeliers) had been polished to its clearest, cleanest sheen, and Duncan’s eyes immediately fell on the gigantic golden clockwork peacock in the center of the room. This peacock had been here since he was a child; it had jeweled emerald eyes and it moved its head back and forth from its wing feathers on the hour, a chime erupting from somewhere deep inside it to mark the passage of time. The clock was very old; Russian, 18th century. Duncan had always loved it, and it had been at least two years since the last time he’d personally set foot in Stapleton’s. The sight of it immediately transported him back in time to when Frederick used to give him tiny caramel candies while he waited for his mother to look at whatever fine thing she’d asked Frederick to find. He’d stare at it for hours, the taste of the caramel in his mouth, the sight of the the golden peacock fascinating his eyes. Duncan thought of Kenzie’s gold aura; I have to bring her to see this peacock sometime, he thought. She would love it so much. And Frederick would love her. Of course he would love her. Everyone loves her. Kenzie is an angel and everything she touches turns to gold.

He stepped up to the peacock, gazing at it in his nostalgic drift (it was still right now, 2 having come and gone), and he was brought out of it by a warm voice to his right; “There you are, Duncan, come this way,” and he turned to see the back of Frederick’s head, white hair surrounding a shiny bald spot, already vanishing through the side-doorway to the back area, an area only ever seen by those who had gained the Stapleton’s trust and loyalty. Duncan glanced at the peacock one more time (Kenzie) and pushed the curtain in the doorway aside (it was heavy and red and velvet and smelled like the backstage of a theater). The back room was much dustier, and always in various states of disarray; this was where the new pieces came first and were sorted and appraised and cleaned. Frederick was in the far corner, an area comprised of mostly stacks of wooden boxes with precious cargo, still nailed shut, rolled Persian rugs, and a large antique dresser that seemed to be in the middle of being cleaned; against the wall was a very long black curtain, visibly dusty, draped over a huge squarish shape; taller than Duncan by several inches.

“Duncan, it’s wonderful to see you again. It’s been far too long,” Frederick said. His half-moon glasses rested at the bridge of his nose; his eyes were very dark brown behind them, as if they held great depth, long secrets, tomes of ancient knowledge. Duncan had always thought so; had always felt as thought Frederick knew things that most people didn’t, spending all his time with the artifacts of lives long lived and gone on to the next plane, yet leaving the residue of those lives behind in the objects they had spent their time with. Frederick brought his wrinkled hands together, the curved silver handle of his cane resting in front of him on its four-pronged clawed feet, his white-bearded face breaking into a smile, tiny crows-feet crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“It has, Frederick. It’s nice to see the peacock again--and you. I was thinking about how you used to give me those little candies. Thank you for that.”

“You look very well, if I may say so, Mr. Shepherd.”

“I’m in love, Frederick.”

“I can tell. It’s shining out of you like a lighthouse. Quite a sight, I must say. Is this mirror--this great mirror of gilded loveliness--meant to be a gift for the one you love?”

“It is.”

“In that case, I think I really do have the right piece for you. It’s very...special.” Frederick spread his hands apart at this statement, stepping carefully, slowly, his gait stiff, using the cane with a silvery curved hook at the end, towards where the black curtain fell over the shape that leaned to the wall. “It’s quite singular, really. As the story goes, it belonged to a Viscountess in France, a few years before the start of the Revolution--1778 or ‘79, we’re not certain. Her parties, they say, were akin to how the Greeks imagined the hedonistic revelries of the Bacchanalia. Some say she worshipped Satan; others believe she was a practitioner of witchcraft, others still believe she was another kind of divine being; a Maenad, a handmaiden of Bacchus, a nymph of Dionysus, she of the wild ways. Whatever the truth--and likely she was nothing more than a woman unchained by society’s expectations of her--the mirror survived the rages of the Revolution, several sea voyages and World War II in a Belgian basement during its German occupation, among other things. The mirror, some say, will kindle the deepest desires of those who stare into it long enough--desires that transcend earthly passions, desires that touch the divine. In any case: the piece itself is truly one of a kind.”

With that, Frederick pulled carefully at the edge of the black curtain; Duncan saw a small cloud of dust lift from it as it fell away, and wondered how long the mirror had waited here along the wall for him; felt acutely, suddenly, that its wait had been for him, for them, for him and Kenzie, for the time when they found each other again, and he shivered as the curtain fell away. The mirror beneath was huge, a vast square of reflective energy; it stretched along the expanse of the wall, as long as it was tall--he stepped closer, almost involuntarily, to study its intricate details; the carvings that stretched along the framing, gold-embossed, were of the tendrils, vines, flowers and fruits of grapes; the nectar of the wine god. The mirror’s surface seemed untouched by time; it was still as clear as a pool of spring water, unblemished by the ages, and it stretched at least 8 feet long; the entirety of the room behind it illuminated in its reflection. Duncan reached out with a careful hand and ran it along the left side of the frame; the soft gold-and-bronze plating was cool and smooth under the tips of his fingers; they tingled, and he shivered. He stared at his reflection in the flawless surface; his sharp blue eyes, the stubble around his jaw, the rise of his lips, his hair falling behind his ears in soft waves. I’ve been waiting for you, the mirror whispered, in some secret, obtuse deja vu, into the center of his mind. I was preserved for the time you were together again--preserved by magick. By a strong spell that stood the test of hundreds of years. I belong to her. To the woman you love. I was always hers and I am always meant to be hers. Just like you.

“Frederick...wow,” Duncan murmured, glancing over his shoulder in the mirror’s reflection at the old man. “This is...more than I could have hoped for. It’s extraordinary. It’s...ethereal. Like it came from another world.”

“I knew it wouldn’t disappoint you. It’s been in the collecton for quite sometime--I never felt inclined to show it to anyone. I felt as though I couldn’t part with it. Until now, that is. For some reason, it feels as though it was meant to be yours all along. Isn’t that strange.”

“Can I please take a picture of it? I need to show it to her. I need to make sure it’s...it has to be perfect.”

“Certainly, Duncan. I’ll be at the front desk. Take your time.”

Frederick left, turned on his spindly silver-hooked cane as Duncan watched him through the mirror again; something in it seemed to shimmer in his gaze for a moment, as if a wave of gold passed over the surface, and Duncan was filled with a strange feeling, as if a rising tide had coursed down into his veins, swirled around his heart, pressed into the lining of his mind; as if something had fallen into place. He breathed deeply; the mirror was one of the most beautiful objects he had ever seen, and the thought of it in their bedroom, facing their bed, Kenzie’s golden hair falling around her shoulders in her reflection, her body turning in her beautiful little clothes, or naked, the softness of her skin in low light, her wrists tied tightly together and her arms extended to the ceiling, her form stretched towards it, her eyes shining out of its surface at him as he revered her body, its reflection of her a worship of her loveliness, filled him with fire. All for the worship of you, beloved. Oh, Kenzie, Mackenzie, my love.

Duncan pulled his phone out, stepping back several feet to include the entirety of the gigantic mirror in the photo; he smiled a little at his own reflection, his Givenchy sunglasses tucked over the front of his button-down, hair falling a little over his forehead, out at Kenzie, on the other side of the city, and added it to a text to her. Baby, it’s unbelievably beautiful. The picture can’t really do it justice. It seems like it was always meant to be ours. And it’s HUGE, 9 x 9 feet, he typed. He hit Send.

He looked up at it again as he waited for her reply; Duncan’s hand went to his chin involuntarily, his thoughts muddled by the beauty of this great object in front of him, his soul shaken by it. How had Frederick come upon such an extraordinary object, and how had it remained here until this very day, falling into his grasp this way? It seemed like Fate again to him; it seemed heavily destined. Duncan couldn’t imagine any other explanation. Like seeing Kenzie on that balcony among the roses, his heart struck with a longing he could not begin to fight, every sound fading and the starlight illuminating the fall of her hair, the shape of her shoulders, the jewels at her throat, and her eyes looking up at him from beneath the fall of her long lashes, stopping his heart. The mirror seemed to know him immediately, recognize the shape of him, as if it had beheld him before. As if I stood here before, in another room and another time and another place, but stood here in its gaze, and it remembers me now. He shivered again. His phone chimed, and he looked back down, tearing his eyes away from the colossal shape of it.

Kenzie: Duncan, oh my god. I can’t believe that’s even real. It’s AMAZING. It looks like it came from another world. Baby, I’m speechless.

Her echo of his own words sent a cold finger down Duncan’s spine. It really does, he typed back. I thought the same thing. It’s yours now. I can’t wait to see you, angel. I can’t wait to see your beautiful reflection in it.

Kenzie: Dunny, baby. I love you so much. Morgan made the most beautiful sketch for my dress...I can only imagine how gorgeous it’s going to be. I want it to be a surprise. Claire and I were thinking of getting a drink after we’re finished with Morgan and Erik--do you want to meet us somewhere? xxxxxxx

Duncan stared down at the X’s, his heart pounding. Dunny, baby. He thought of the day they’d planned tomorrow; the beach and sunlight and solitude, the promise of being wrapped in her arms all day, responsibilities forgotten and faraway. He thought of them finally alone in front of this mirror in their bedroom, Kenzie tied up under his hot, eager hands, thought of the lingerie he’d bought her that was soon to arrive in delicate pink boxes, and his body ached for her. Kenzie, I love you too. I can’t fucking wait to see that dress. Meet me at Jack Rose around 5?

Kenzie: That sounds good, baby. See you soon. She left the lipstick stain emoji at the end.

Duncan turned away from the mirror, his eyes lingering over its exquisite beauty for another moment, and went through the red curtain, to buy it from Frederick Stapleton.

-----

Duncan had made another purchase from Frederick before leaving the exclusive antique shop; a heavy, gilded ceiling hook made of bronze alongside a very long bronze-link chain that he now carried in a cloth bag clutched in his hand as he stepped outside. He vaguely mentioned something to Frederick about needing to hang a very heavy chandelier; if Frederick suspected it was for something else, he did not let on, just nodded and brought Duncan to an area that had dozens of antique hooks of varying sizes and styles. Duncan stepped into the car he’d called, asking the driver to take him back to the penthouse--he’d made arrangements with Frederick to have the mirror delivered within the hour, and there was still his email, unchecked today, that needed to be taken care of; not just coordinating his upcoming meeting with Claire Underwood, unbeknownst to Annette and his Uncle, but the confirmation of his Post interview with Kenzie and Ben Wilder next week. God, that mirror, his thoughts drifting away from emails, I want her to see it as soon as possible. It belongs in our bedroom. It has to be there when she gets home tonight. Frederick had given him a strange look before quoting the price to him; Duncan was still wondering what the look had meant, but he’d only asked for $100,000 for the mirror (the mirror to end all mirrors, Duncan thought); an extraordinarily low price for a piece so storied, unique, and rare. Duncan had balked at the amount--”Surely it’s worth more than that, Frederick.”

“It is.”

“Then why?”

“It’s meant to be yours.”

Duncan stared at the old man, studying him for a moment; Frederick stared back casually, decisively, as though his decision had come and gone and it was no longer something he could recant.

“This woman you love. It’s a gift for her, you said.”

“Yes. It is. She’s…” Duncan trailed off, looking away, feeling moisture gather in his eyes; words failed him, and he pressed his lips together, fighting off the wave of emotion that had crashed into him. She’s my one true love. She’s my soulmate. She’s the other half of me. The thoughts oscillated in his mind, filling him with blushing ardor. He pressed his hand to his chin, along his bottom lip, overcome.

“Mr. Shepherd. As I see it, the mirror is being returned to its owner. That’s all that can be said. All my happiness goes with it, to both of you.”

Duncan looked back up at the other man, and he nodded and smiled, because there were no more words to be said; Frederick was right. The mirror had, somehow, always been Kenzie’s; and now it would be a monument to her, an altar in her temple, a reflection of her staggering gold.

-------

“Anchaly, I need someone from maintenance to install this hook and chain in the bedroom ceiling tomorrow while Miss Stone and I are away,” Duncan said, coming up to the small man’s desk in the foyer of the high rise, setting the cloth bag carefully in front of him. “It’s for a chandelier. Oh, and I have a very large delivery arriving soon. Please allow them up into the penthouse. I’ll be at dinner with Mackenzie.”

Anchaly gave him a wry look, eyes dancing. “Of course, Mr. Shepherd. A chandelier. Lovely.” Duncan smiled at him in turn, not speaking; then, he turned and stepped to the elevators. Anchaly was very discreet, but the lobby had several other residents hanging around that afternoon--the last thing we need is someone to eavesdrop and blab to tabloids, I can just see the headline now: DUNCAN SHEPHERD AND MADELINE STONE INSTALL KINKY BONDAGE HOOK IN SEX DUNGEON. He snorted into his hand, unable to help himself, the elevator closing behind him; mercifully empty. He wondered, idly, what Kenzie’s dress looked like. With her by my side at the Gala, it’s going to be an incredibly memorable night, he thought. I hope they take a thousand pictures of her just to spite Mom. Everyone will see us together; no one will be able to deny anymore that Kenzie is meant to be in this world, that she shines brighter than anyone. That she’s a fucking goddess. Duncan came into the penthouse, tossing his sunglasses and wallet and phone onto the side-table by the front door, pressing a hand through his hair as he sat down at his Macbook on the low leather couch, fiddling with his Movado. The last of the work now; then just him and Kenzie for the rest of the night, and all of tomorrow.

-----

An hour or so later, Duncan stepped into to open space of Jack Rose’s Dining Saloon, a spacious whiskey bar with a truly impressive bar stretching the entire expanse of the space; wall to wall bottles of every shape and size, and the emphasis, of course, on whiskey. He thought of that first night again, a week ago (only a week?), when Kenzie’s little voice had said “Whiskey,” when he’d asked what she wanted from the bar and he’d gone hot and cold with the intensity of his desire for her, her fingers brushing against his when they clinked their Old Fashioneds together; when she’d agreed to go back to the penthouse with him, he thought he had to be dreaming. How has Fate smiled so on me. Duncan had often come here to have a drink alone; the bartenders knew him and most of the patrons left him alone (they were used to famous clientele), and they had the best whiskey selection in DC; his eyes scanned the long, open bar, searching for Kenzie’s telltale tawny hair or Claire’s short blonde shag. He spotted them towards the end, sitting in the high bar stools--Claire’s back was turned to him but he could see she was wearing a coral-colored summery wrap dress covered in blue, pink and gold catalina flower print, her legs crossed, a dry martini with two olives cradled in her hand, elbow resting on the back of the chair--and (my Kenzie) Kenzie was across from her, knees turned sideways in her seat towards Claire, the white stretch of her thighs visible between her mini skirt and long boots, and her hand was around a cocktail tumbler--a mint julep, from the sprigs of fresh mint he could pinpoint from this distance. Claire’s head was obscuring her face, but Duncan could see the angle of Kenzie’s chin was turned up to a man who stood a few inches from the backs of their chairs. The man was average, height-wise--shorter than me by a couple inches, I’d say, Duncan thought with a petty twinge of triumph--with shortly trimmed black hair and olive skin; he had a round, handsome, friendly face; he was physically fit and standing casually near Kenzie, a coiled, nervous energy in his stance, but with a measure of familiarity, as if they knew each other. He wore a white button-down with several of the buttons toward the top undone, exposing a measured stretch of skin along his neckline, and tailored slacks in navy blue with dark-colored plain-toe Oxford shoes. His hand was in one of his pockets, a pint glass half-full of dark beer in the other, and he was smiling at Kenzie as she spoke up at him, and something about the way he was smiling at her made a hot dagger of jealousy stab into Duncan’s temples.

Who is that.

Duncan pulled his sunglasses away from his eyes, shoving them into the dip of his short-sleeved Ferragamo shirt, pushing a hand along the side of his hair, stepping quickly to the corner where his girlfriend, her best friend, and this annoyingly charming person were huddled. Stop smiling at her, he thought at the man, a slight edge of embarrassment at the immediacy of his jealousy creeping into his mind. Something about the smile was full of warm affection; this man did know Kenzie, and this man cared about her, or else, he had cared about her--they hadn’t noticed Duncan yet and the man laughed a little at something Kenzie said...and the twinge of jealousy flared in Duncan again. He came up close enough to catch the man’s eye; they turned a little, eyes skirting between Kenzie and Duncan, expression softening with curiosity and wary recognition and vague enviousness, and Kenzie’s gaze fell on Duncan as the man stepped back a little, the small smile she’d been giving him widening as her bright hazel eyes fell into Duncan’s. Duncan’s heart twinged with immediate affection; Kenzie is so beautiful. Like a star with the rest of us orbiting around her.

“Hey baby,” Kenzie breathed, and she hopped down from the bar stool, pressing against him immediately. Duncan’s arms came around her and he couldn’t push away the possessive bloom of need that opened in him at the feeling of her hair against him and the smell of her skin and the soft incline of her lips and lashes from the bottom of his eyeline, and he leaned down to her and kissed her, open-mouthed; kiss me, Kenzie, kiss me, he thought, sheepishness at his inability to stay calm mixed in with his desirous abandon for her. She returned the deepness of his kiss for a moment and then pulled away, and he could see the blush on her cheeks at his neediness in front of the two pairs of eyes that watched them on either side; Claire with an expression of amusement (well, at least someone’s having fun, Duncan thought towards her) and the man with a skirting mixture of envious interest and awkwardness. “Hi baby,” he replied, breathless with the taste of her and the bitterness of his jealous rush. “Sorry I’m a little bit late, my car got stuck in the rush hour drift. Hey, Claire. You look lovely.”

Claire’s eyes drifted between the other man and Duncan, and she said “Hi, Duncan. Oh shucks, stop,” with a grin. She dipped the edge of her martini glass up to her mouth and took a long sip, as if to steel herself against the conversation she was about to witness. Kenzie looked between the two men for a moment and Duncan could see the blush in her cheeks deepen; she hopped back into her bar stool, facing him, clutching his arm for a moment, then held her hands out in short “ta-da” movement towards the dark-haired stranger. “Duncan, this is Tyler. Tyler Landau. Tyler--this is Duncan Shepherd.”

“Everyone knows who Duncan Shepherd is.” Tyler pulled the hand he’d had in his pocket out, holding it out to Duncan and giving him a small half-smile. Duncan grasped it, staring into the other man’s face for a moment; rather than feeling as though he disliked him, Duncan could immediately see a likability in Tyler, an affable evenness of temper. This is Kenzie’s ex, he knew in a rush, remembering the way they’d clutched each other in the shower as she told me about the man she used to love. This man. She loved him once. She lost her virginity to him. She used to kiss him, my Kenzie...she was tangled in his sheets for three years...

“Kenzie’s told me about you,” Duncan said. “A pediatrician, right?”

“Still in Residency, I’m afraid--3 years in. Not convinced it’s actually ever going to end.”

“Tyler’s here with some of his coworkers--it’s such a weird coincidence,” Kenzie murmured, her voice rushing with nervousness. She tucked a wave of hair behind her ear, pulling her mint julep up to her mouth, and Duncan felt a wave of affection for her. “He saw us come in from where they’re sitting over there and came over to say hi,” Kenzie gestured to a low table on the other end of the bar; Duncan glanced back and noticed a group of young professionals that all looked to be in their late 20’s, casual-dressy like Tyler, chatting amiably over cocktails and appetizers--a few of them met Duncan’s gaze with curious interest; he knew they recognized him. Duncan turned back. “DC feels oddly small that way sometimes,” he said. “Tyler, can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to--”

“I insist.”

He crooked a finger at the bartender, who was eyeing him knowingly--it was Murphy, the ginger-bearded head bartender, who Duncan knew of many a drunken evening. “Murphy, can I get two of the Four Roses single-barrel year-100? Two rocks for each.” “You got it, boss,” Murphy replied, briskly setting up two tulip-shaped whiskey glasses. “Nice to see ya, Duncan, it’s been a minute.” “Same to you, Murph.” Murphy passed Duncan the two glasses across the smooth marbled surface of the bar; Duncan handed him his Black AmEx, and turned with the glasses to hand one to Kenzie’s ex. You have to stay calm, he told himself. You can’t let your insecurities in. Kenzie’s with you now and she deserves your even temper. Imagine if it was Misha or Evan, and how strange you would feel.

“Thanks, man,” Tyler said, draining the rest of his beer and leaning on Kenzie’s opposite side (don’t touch her, the thought flashed through Duncan’s mind despite his attempts to quell it) to set the empty pint on the bar, reaching for the tulip glass Duncan held out. As he’d assumed from a distance, Duncan was a couple inches taller than Tyler; they had similar builds, though Tyler was vaguely stockier. “That wasn’t necessary, but I appreciate it. I don’t want to impose on your evening…”

Too late, Duncan thought. But now that you’re here, I’m fucking curious, I can’t help it.

“...it’s just been awhile since Kenzie and I saw each other, and I’dve felt weird about it if I didn’t come over to say hello.”

“Don’t apologize, I understand.” Duncan held out his glass. “Cheers.”

Tyler leaned out to clink his against the edge of Duncan’s; Kenzie and Claire made similar motions, and Duncan could see the tiny tremor in Kenzie’s hand. She’s freaking out. He swallowed a mouthful of the whiskey, savoring the warmth of it in his throat, and reached out a long hand to press it into Kenzie’s knee. She put her little fingers over the incline of his wrist, her eyes looking up into his, and he saw the trepidation hiding inside them. I don’t know if you can hear me right now baby, he thought, concentrating on the gold flecks swirling in her gaze, but if you can, be calm, okay? Everything’s okay. He seems nice. I can see why you were with him. I love you. Duncan saw Kenzie’s expression soften just a little, the stiff position of her shoulders smooth downwards. He was struck with the longing to press his fingers through her hair, touch the little star charms on her necklace; he moved closer to her, between her seat and Claire’s, his back to the bar, facing Tyler, and kept his hand there on her knee, taking another sip of the whiskey; it was flooding into his senses, and he felt his tongue loosen.

“So you and Kenzie dated for three years.”

Tyler’s eyes skirted between Duncan and Kenzie, hesitating. When Kenzie didn’t say anything, staring down into her mint julep, he replied. “Yeah, while we were at school. But it was just one of those things, huh, Kenz. There aren’t any hard feelings from me.”

“No, no--there aren’t from me either.” Kenzie’s gaze skirted between him and the her ex boyfriend (his eyes are as different from mine as one could conceive, Duncan thought, russet and warm), giving them both small smiles. Her fingers squeezed around Duncan’s hand, and he squeezed her in return, possessiveness clasping at his heart again, pushing guilt through his gut.

“I’ve seen some of the stuff about both of you in the news lately--I was pretty surprised to see Kenzie all over social media all of a sudden,” Tyler went on, shifting on his feet a little, “...how long have you two been seeing each other, anyway?”

Kenzie looked up into Duncan’s eyes as she replied. “A week.” But it feels like longer, doesn’t it, baby. It feels like we’ve always known each other. He felt her thought drift into him with a swirling, warm pressure. Yes, baby. It does.

“A week that’s felt like a month,” Claire interjected, “since twenty things have happened every day since. I can’t even believe how much I’m seeing Kenzie online now, it’s so surreal.”

“Yeah, actually, now that you mention it, Claire, I saw the two of you are a trending topic on Instagram and Twitter for, like, four days now,” Tyler said, grinning. “That must be weird for you, Kenz. Your mom always said you wanted attention until you got it, then you didn’t want it anymore.”

Duncan bristled at the familiarity of the words Madeline had spoken to him over their dinner at Busboys several days before. “Madeline’s a fucking delight,” he said, eager to be part of the conversation. I know her too, Doc. “We had dinner the other night and I was totally enamored with her.”

Kenzie looked up at him with a radiant smile bursting across her face; Duncan moved his hand from her knee to the small of her back under the slat at the back of the bar stool. Wildly, the thought of her hand clutched around his throat flashed through his mind; the way she’d straddled his lap in the BMW that night on the way back to the penthouse. You better do as I say. Duncan wondered with a flash of heat pulsing in the pit of his stomach if she’d ever commanded Tyler that way--if Tyler had melted in her hands. It wouldn’t matter who it was, he knew. Anyone would bow to her.

“Once, Madeline took Kenz and I to this weird Cirque du Soleil show in Vegas,” Tyler said, his expression the amused look of someone remembering a fond memory. “And she’d smoked some hash with us before--because it’s fucking Madeline--and then she started having a bad trip in the middle of it and started yelling about pink elephants everywhere, pink elephants staring at her with beady eyes, pink elephants with too many balloons and they made us leave--we were just standing on the sidewalk fucking howling by then, remember that, Kenz--”

Stop fucking calling her that, Duncan thought, an annoyed jab flashing through his mind again. Stop being so fucking familiar. Duncan looked down at Kenzie and noticed the amusement in her face, the giggle of remembrance around her mouth. The memory of her affection for him, he knew, and it made him ache. “Oh god,” she said, and he pressed his fingers into her a little, the ache spreading through his arm. “That day was insane. I forgot about that, I laughed so hard I fucking cried, we had to practically carry her back to the hotel.”

Duncan took another hard sip of the bourbon; it was heady and wildly heavy and it made his skull pound. He looked up at the man across from him again as she spoke--Tyler’s hand was back in his pocket, and Duncan noticed the way his dark eyes fell over Kenzie’s loveliness--the cascade of her gold hair, her little mouth grinning, her tongue slipping between her teeth, bringing her glass up to her mouth, her arm tucking under her little breasts in amusement, toying with the star necklace that dipped down there. He didn’t break up with you, Duncan realized, his heart twinging. You broke up with him. He still loves you, doesn’t he. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone loves you. I love you. I love you so much it fucking hurts.

“I need to order some fucking food,” Claire said, breaking up the amusement between Kenzie and Tyler, to Duncan’s relief. “Where did that bartender go?” Duncan turned, catching Murphy’s eye from down the bar, waving a little; Murphy came back, cocking his head towards them. “Oh, thank god,” Claire murmured. “The perks of having the famous person in your crew. Can we get the shared supper plate, please?”

“Oh, oh, I want the chicken skins too, please,” Kenzie said excitedly, and Duncan noticed she’d drained her mint julep out of nervousness; “And two more of these,” he said, pointing to Kenzie and Claire’s empty glasses. Murphy nodded, grinning; Duncan understood why, both Kenzie and Claire were lovely, their energy warm and infectious; but Kenzie’s glow was iridescent, intoxicating, throwing her brightness around this corner, pulling the eyes of the room in. Tyler watched her with eyes that couldn’t seem to hide their longing--and Duncan felt another twinge of intense jealousy towards the man who had first known her bed, who had gotten to spend so many days with her, who had a wealth of memories with her that Duncan, no matter how many memories he would build atop them, would never be privy to.

“Well, I think it’s time for me to go back to my table,” Tyler said, as if he sensed the roiling shadow of Duncan’s thoughts. “Kenzie...I wish you the best in everything, always. Duncan, thank you for the drink, I really appreciate it. Claire, it was nice to see you again.” Tyler leaned forward over Kenzie’s little face, and before she could react, he kissed her cheek quickly, eyes closing--then he lifted away from her and nodded a little at Duncan, staring at him evenly. Then he drained the last of the whiskey from the tulip glass and set it carefully on the bar, giving the three of them a little wave, and turned back to his table where his coworkers beckoned to him. Duncan watched his back retreat for a moment before turning his face down to Kenzie, who stared up at him with the same expression of concern; he leaned his mouth down to her, hand at the back of her hair, and pressed her into him, needy with relief that the other man had gone away, unable to stop the onslaught of emotion that washed over him now.

“Well, that was fun,” Claire said to them, staring innocently up at the hundreds of bottles lined along the bar, pointedly away from their passionate kiss that continued to extend. Duncan didn’t care. He’d waited all day to kiss her and then her fucking ex boyfriend had appeared and he was starving for her now.

“Baby,” Duncan whispered down into Kenzie’s ear as his mouth fell away from hers. “I missed you so fucking much today. Wait until you see it. Just wait. It’s the most beautiful--”

“Oh, Duncan,” she whispered back into him, her hands coming around his face. “Dunny, I missed you too, baby, I’m so sorry about that, I never expected him to be here--”

“Shhh, it’s fine,” Duncan kissed her again, with shuddering softness this time. “It doesn’t matter--”

“Excuse me, Prince Duncan and Princess Kenzie, but y’all are making me clutch my pearls right now,” Claire interrupted them as Murphy brought them fresh drinks, a waiter close behind with the tray of charcuterie Claire had ordered for them; Kenzie’s chicken skins in their other hand. “Can’t wait for some photos of this moment on BPF tomorrow, I’ll make sure to send them to you as your official press secretary, Kenzie.”

Kenzie gave her friend a shy gaze but clapped a little, delighted, at the food. “Oh my god, I’m so fucking hungry, I forgot to eat all day between fighting with Annette and trying to figure out the dress. Oh baby, wait till you see it--it’s going to be so wonderful--”

Duncan smiled down at her, sliding into the seat on her left, the tide of his relief riding over him with the richness of the aged whiskey he’d just drank, reaching out to the charcuterie and plucking an olive from one of the little bowls, slipping it into his mouth. He pushed his hand through the wave of her hair, skin tingling from the contact with her he’d longed for and had had to postpone. “And wait ‘till you see this mirror, baby--”

“Mirror?” Claire was eavesdropping, her eyes dancing, reaching for crackers and slivers of aged cheddar on the big plate, sipping at her second martini. “What mirror?”

“Duncan found this amazing mirror today for the penthouse--” Kenzie opened her phone and showed Claire the photo Duncan had sent her earlier. Claire goggled at it, her mouth falling open. “Holy shit, that’s incredible. All the gold, like, how big is that thing, wow, that’s fucking extravagant.” She gave Kenzie a coy look. “Wonder what you’ll do with that, hmmmm.” Duncan slipped a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his grin, but he knew Claire saw; she wiggled her eyebrows at them, mock-seductive. “Your own personal movie theater, huh?” Kenzie blushed, biting the nail of her index finger as Claire giggled at her, and Duncan was struck with the desire to pull her against him, cradle her in his arms with protective need. “Oh, by the way, Duncan, I rode in the BMW with Kenzie over here and Samuel is a fucking dream, I wanna marry him now.”

“He’s single,” Duncan said, only half-jokingly. “Somehow, impossibly.”

“He doesn’t have time to date when he’s carting your ass around all the time,” Claire retorted, and Duncan laughed a little. “Touche. He needs more vacation time.” Duncan’s eyes fell over Kenzie devouring one of the chicken skins clutched between two fingers in her little hand, then skirted behind her to where Tyler sat on the other side of the restaurant with his table of pediatric co-residents. Duncan could see the other man’s dark eyes falling back over to where they sat the end of the bar; especially over Kenzie’s gold hair, the incline of her back. Duncan brought his hand into her lap again, riding high up on her thigh; Kenzie giggled a little, swallowing; “Baby, that tickles.” She brought her lips up against his, wiping her hands carefully on her napkin before she pressed her fingers against his jaw on either side, pulling him against her. “I love you,” she whispered into his mouth, and he closed his eyes, smelling the sweetness of her perfume and the grease and the whiskey and mint on her lips, loving the scent of her and the texture. She loves me, Duncan thought with relief. How am I so lucky? She loves me, I love her, loves me, I love her, she loves me...

--------

They’d driven Claire back to her Dupont Circle apartment, about a fifteen minute walk from where Kenzie used to live. Claire was quite tipsy and Duncan had carefully helped her to her door, her arm threaded through his to keep from falling; she’d sat in the front seat with Samuel, the partition open so they could all talk together, and Duncan could tell his driver was quite taken with her; you say you wanna marry Samuel, but I think he wants to marry you, Duncan thought, watching his chauffeur and Kenzie’s best friend flirt, his hand in Kenzie’s lap. She was gazing at him with a contented, quiet look in her eyes; waiting for us to be alone, me too, baby, he thought towards her. Claire had hugged his neck (as was her way) as he deposited her at the door of her apartment; “I know you saw what I saw,” she said, leaning down to his face conspiratorially, her words slurring a little with all the gin from her martini having settled in, the sharp scent of it in his nose. “And I always suuuspected their break-up was one-sided. Tyler was giving her googly eyes, big ones. But here’s the thing, Duncan--she issin love with you. Like, I have never seen her SO happy in my whole LIFE, and I’ve known her since she was fucking up volleyball serves in high school. You’re gonna marry her. I know it.”

“Goodnight, Claire,” Duncan let go of her gently, smiling at her and nodding, and Claire stood there dazed for a moment, lost in the drift of the alcohol, then she gave him a little salute, like she was a private saluting a sergeant, and twisted the doorknob, falling inside. Duncan tried to shake the whiskey out of his head, too, the cool evening air helping a little as he walked back to the BMW; he slid back into the backseat, noticing Kenzie was already pushing the partition button, allowing them privacy from Samuel, the last obstruction to their solitude.

“Baby, I--you know I had no idea Tyler would be there--” she said in a rush, but he broke her off gently.

“Kenzie, of course. I know.”

“I could hear--I could hear you. The intensity of your thoughts. It was all around me. Like a ring of fire.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I tried to push it away, tried to bury it--”

“No...I sort of...I liked it.” Kenzie’s face came close, hovering under his chin; her mouth open, anticipating. Tonight Nat King Cole’s rich voice floated from the speakers, somewhere in the background of the golden sphere of her little body, finally so close to him: you’ll never know how slow the moments go...till I’m near to you...I see your face...in every flower...your eyes in stars above…Her eyes stared up into his (flecks of gold, bronze, dark sunset in a forest), her voice low and sweet, her breath shallow, and her other hand was falling down his chest to hover along his stomach and then at his hip, just above his crotch, the tips of her fingers brushing him with aching hesitation. “I...I liked that you were so jealous. I liked that you needed me so much, want me so much...like you were going to burst into a bonfire. Like you couldn’t bear it...like...when you wondered if I’d touched him that way--” It’s just the thought of you, the very thought of you...my love...

“Kenzie,” he breathed into her. “Touch me. Please, baby.”

She reached up so her hands fell on his jaw and in his hair, and he was pulling her against him, hands harshly clasped on her hips as the BMW drove the short distance back to the penthouse, falling into her in the dark.

“He still loves you,” he spoke between their kisses, gasping, his hands falling down the velvety feeling of her boots and back up to the bareness of her thigh, the curve of her hip and the tiny dip of her waist, his eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of her for fear she would shake his soul again with her loveliness, her otherworldliness, the taste of her enough to drive him into a state of mad emotion, threatening to make him unable to speak, the scent of her falling down into his senses, filling him up, sucking his breath away. “I could tell by the way he looked at you, baby. He wished he could go back to when you were his. I could see it.”

“Duncan, it doesn’t matter. I only love you.”

He sighed into her; Duncan felt tears prick at his eyes. Her mouth was so soft in the dark it was like the delicate petals of a flower under his lips, and his heart was swollen with the sounds she made, her tiny moans under his hands, the hum of her breathing in his ears in the shadows; he longed to breathe something into her, an admonition of passion and adoration so sincere, so entire, that it would dispel all doubt from her mind for as long as they lived--he wanted her to know the depth of his love would never fade, that he would worship her until the stars faded from the heavens and the sun burned away into darkness, but how could he? How could he find words? “I love you,” was all he could whisper, his mouth on her chin and the incline of her throat, “I love you, I love you, Kenzie--”.

The partition floated down and they broke apart, achingly, reluctantly, and he could see Kenzie’s little frame shivering with the intensity of her breathing in the dark; they hadn’t noticed the BMW had pulled up to the high-rise and had been idling, quietly, for several minutes.

“We’re home, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Samuel said quietly, his eyes skirting over their dishelvement, their harsh breathing. Ushering us on to the quiet solitude of our bed, Duncan thought with a warm, vague knowledge. He nodded at the other man. “Thank you, Samuel. We’re taking the jet to Yarmouth tomorrow, can you pick us up around 9?”

“Very good, Mr. Shepherd. Miss Mackenzie, it was a pleasure to drive you today. Anytime you want to listen to Stevie, you let me know.”

Kenzie’s little smile broke over her cheeks in the shadows; “Thank you, Samuel. It was wonderful to spend time with you today.” Duncan opened the door and slid out, reaching down for her hand, anxious for her touch again. She slipped her small fingers between his, the sound of her boots on the sidewalk clicking in his ears, the soft lights of the street lamps falling over her small frame. He pulled her gently with him, wishing in that moment that he could snap his fingers and they’d suddenly appear in the bedroom, where he knew that vast, quiet, gold monument to her was waiting. Jerry pulled the door open, nodding to them without speaking; Anchaly was away from his desk at the moment, and Duncan silently thanked the Fates (Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos)--every interaction with anyone else was a distraction from his desire to show her what he’d found for her today, the thing he’d found that was already hers. In the elevator Kenzie let go of his hand and stepped to the opposite side, and they stood there across from each other, staring, the elevator’s mirror reflecting their profiles from the corner of Duncan’s eye--Kenzie leaned her ass against the smooth gold wall, parting her legs a little, bringing her hands into the dip of her crotch, not moving her eyes away from his face. Duncan’s hands gripped the rail behind him, the tension in his body rising, his need to feel her again making him dizzy.

“How was your day today, baby?” he said quietly.

“It was...long. Good. Sort of. Your mom--god, she hates me.”

Duncan bit his lip as the elevator climbed, his eyes on the flushed shimmer of her cheeks; 22, 23, 24. “We’re going to work on it, okay? We’re going to make her see.”

Kenzie nodded at him, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth. “My dress, baby. Just wait. And Erik was lovely.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear; his heart shuddered.

“Mmhmm, he is. I can’t wait to see it, baby.” The elevator dinged, the doors sliding apart. Duncan reached for her but Kenzie--ugh, she’s so good at that, it makes me insane--slid away from him, looking at him back over her shoulder as she walked ahead of him to the penthouse door, her little teeth shining out of her mouth at him, a glint in her eyes. “Come here,” he said, needy.

“Come get me,” she replied, slipping her keycard into the slot by the door; it beeped and she swung it open, disappearing inside. Duncan groaned softly; fuck baby, I will. He fumbled with his wallet, snatching out his own key, hurriedly jamming it into the slot and yanking the door open; Kenzie had already kicked her boots off and was trotting around the corner in her little bare feet, towards the bedroom, hair shimmering. The penthouse was cool and quiet with evening; the diamond-drop chandelier reflecting the low lamps in the living room, his eyes skirting over her succulents along the sink, and he could see one of the little lamps in the bedroom had been switched on--as he followed Kenzie, kicking his own shoes off, he heard her gasp as she stopped dead, facing the wall that was obscured from this angle by the doorway. He stepped through, seeing her hands come up to her cheeks, her mouth snap shut, her eyes grow wide. He glanced to where she stared--there it was, this silent speculum of time, its carvings dipping softly in the shadows, vines, fruits and flowers, its clear reflection of them snatching his breath as he stepped up beside her. Duncan marveled for a moment at the difference in their heights--her little golden head only reaching to just below the bend of his shoulders, his hands obscuring her under his touch as he reached for her--and yet, he thought, your greatness astounds me, beloved. Your wonders are confounding to me, your secrets endless and each one more precious than any riches. She continued to stare at their reflection as his arms came around her from behind, pressing his stomach gently into her back, fingers falling around the dip of her elbows, tightening, desirous, his face falling into the crook of her neck, his eyes looking up into hers through the mondo glass that stretched before them. He shivered a little at his own gaze--a blue fire raging in the center of him, every ember of it for her, reflecting outwards.

“Duncan, this…” He felt her shudder violently under his hands, and he moved his fingers down to cup around her breasts, clutching her, longing to soothe the shaking in her limbs, pressing soft kisses against her ear.

“It’s yours, isn’t it. It belongs to you.”

Kenzie’s eyes grew clouded as he said it, puzzled, but acknowledging, lost in the confusion of her sudden knowledge that he was right.

“It’s...I know it from somewhere. Like it used to be mine. How can that be, baby? How can this be mine?”

“I don’t know, Kenzie. But I knew it too, when I saw it. I knew it was yours. I knew it was yours...I don’t fucking know, baby, in another life. I knew it.” He turned her into him, aching for her mouth--she pressed into him, impossibly small and soft and delicate, smelling of roses and the gathering desire on her skin--and Duncan’s hands pushed under the fabric of her shirt, his fingers trailing along the soft skin at her spine, the rise of her ribs.

“I feel like I’ve looked into it before.”

“I know. I do, too. I don’t know how that’s possible. When I looked into it--” Duncan moaned into her as she pushed her hand into the waistband of his clothes, her fingers sliding down to grasp at the shaft of his cock, growing hard and pressing into the fabric, straining. “--it felt like I’d looked into it before.”

“I need you, Dunny.”

“Kenzie, angel--”

“Stare at me in this mirror and fuck me. Do it, right now.”

Duncan couldn’t stop the burst of lust, like the unexpected, painful dusting of an electric current, that danced across his mind as her command fell into his ears. Yes, goddess. He gripped her arms harshly, pulling her neck roughly into his mouth, biting down on the sensitive skin there--Kenzie cried out, quickening the heat in his groin, and Duncan brought his thumb into her mouth, which had opened for him, pressing it into her little tongue forcefully. Her eyes fluttered and she sucked; “Yes, angel,” he murmured, “Suck.” He used his other hand to push at the mini skirt around her waist, yanking it down from her hips where it pooled around her ankles, exposing the silkiness of her dark underwear. Kenzie stepped out of the skirt, parting her legs against him; he slipped his hand into the waistband of her panties and pressed his fingers, demanding, into her sex, and she arched into him, moaning into his thumb still pressed to her tongue, the vibration of her throat sending lightning bolts of sensation through his body. He moved his hand out of her panties and his finger from her mouth and stepped back, willing himself with every ounce of resolve he had, and she whimpered, leaning into the emptiness where his hands had been and his heart ached terribly.

“Baby,” he breathed, reaching up to work at the buttons of his shirt, “Take off your clothes. I’ll watch you, you watch me.”

Kenzie nodded, lifting the hem of the collared shirt over her head, tossing her starry necklace on the floor, her hair falling over her bare shoulders as she let the shirt drop after it; Duncan finished the buttons of his own shirt and let it fall, fingers fumbling at his belt buckle as he watched her unhook the back of the little bra she wore, exposing her breasts, covered in the goosebumps of her arousal, and her little fingers slipped down to slide the waistband of her panties off, stepping out of them, and suddenly, she was naked in front of him, her eyes shining with anticipation of the return of his touch. Duncan watched her eyes watch him push his pants and briefs down, exposing his cock, now hard with his arousal, then her gaze slid up into his and he paused at the demand inside them. Fuck me. I command you.

He pushed into her roughly; pushed her back, her tiny body sliding against him with wild lightness; pushed her until her back and her ass fell against the cold, smooth surface of the mirror, pressed her against it, their mouths crushed together, tongues entwining, his fingers brushing up into her cunt, hard, insistent, her little fingers gripping his cock, pulling him against her, and then Duncan lifted his hand to her throat and gripped her there, turning her cheek so his mouth pressed into her ear roughly, and he said “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, so turn around and put your hands on the mirror.”

“Uh huh, baby, yes,” Kenzie whimpered, and he loosened the harsh grip of his fingers so she turned her body toward the mirror, pressing the palms of her hands into the smooth glass, leaning so her ass lifted towards his groin, her hair falling down over her shoulders and back, lifting her gaze to stare at him in the reflection. Duncan returned her gaze in the mirror as he gathered her hair in his fist, twisting it once around his hand, drunk with the reflection of their bodies hovering together, and her head jerked back a little, a moan falling from her little mouth, her eyes fluttering. “Unng, baby, yes,” she mewled, lifting her hips back towards his erection, and he was struck with another hot wave of need at the sound she had made, wanton and supplicant to him. Then, he pushed his cock, hard and sudden, down into her, and she let out a cry that shook hot drops of avid thirst down his spine. Duncan pulled harshly at her hair (your beautiful hair, your golden hair baby, in my fist, all mine) and plunged in and out of her warmth, and Kenzie cried out again and again, his moans falling into her--her eyes closed and Duncan jerked her head back a little, demanding. “Look at me, Kenzie.” Her eyes snapped open to him; the green hue was deeply present, shining out at him, ethereal and haunting. “That’s right. Look at me.”

“Uhh, baby,” she moaned, and he slipped his palm under her chin and brought her head back and kissed her, hard, his lips bruising into hers, his fist still around her hair, his cock buried in her; then he looked up at the reflection of her, tip-toed, mouth open, eyes turned up to him, breasts shivering, palms flat on the mirrored glass, her body bent into him. “Down, baby,” he said, letting go of her hair to carefully ease her onto her knees with him by her hips, her hands sliding slowly down the mirror’s surface until both of them were kneeling in front of it. He pulled back on her hips, moving slow, still buried inside her, and Kenzie’s hands fell to the floor, to the dark wood between the rug and the edge of the mirror. Duncan brought his hand up around her neck again, looking into her eyes in the mirror; “I love holding you here,” he murmured to her, fingers clenching on her throat, and rebounded his efforts at pounding his length into the warm dip of her cunt, pressing her legs outward, demandingly, with his thighs until she was trembling, prostrate, spread, her tiny body crushed into his and totally at his mercy, her mouth trembling up at him in the glass, her cheeks flushed with need. Duncan slipped his index and middle fingers deep into his mouth, slicking them with spit, then pressed them down into her ass, working them harshly back and forth as he fucked her, his concentration smooth and unbroken and utterly demanding of her; Kenzie spasmed and her mouth widened and her eyes rolled back into her head, and a long bead of drool ran from the corner of her mouth, glittering in the reflection, her senses abandoned in the forceful movement of his fingers inside her.

“Look at us,” Duncan commanded her, and Kenzie’s eyes widened from her desirous haze as he continued to work at her cunt with his cock (so hard, I’m so fucking hard baby, so hard for you, filling you up like this, god you feel good, like I’m meant to be inside you always) and her tight asshole with his long fingers, her shivering body totally at his beholden to him, supple under his insistence, “look at us fuck, baby, watch me fuck you like this--”

“Duncan, unnngh,” Kenzie murmured, “I want you to fuck my ass, baby,” and Duncan’s eyes rolled back at that, rolled back with the rocking burst of fervor her words kindled in him. He could see the glistening trail at her chin where she’d drooled and he wanted to reach out and wipe it away, but didn’t; a secret gift for him, her supplication, her abandon for him.

He pulled out of her and she whined, piteously. “Stay there. Do not move, angel,” he said, and Kenzie froze, eyes staring into him from her reflection. He pushed himself up, his achingly hard erection illuminated in the mirror’s watchful, long eye, and went into the bathroom where he knew Kenzie’s jar of coconut oil was sitting on the counter beside the squarish shape of her perfume. He eased a hand along his cock as he did, slick with the wet of the inside of her vulva, concentrating on it, bringing the jar back out with him to where he saw her still kneeling obediently in front of the mirror, her ass shivering almost imperceptibly from the memory of him pounding against her a moment before, the memory of his fingers, her legs still achingly spread. He stood there over her for a moment, gazing into her eyes in the mirror’s reflection again; this fucking mirror is something extraordinary, he thought, where did it even come from, and it’s going to be in our room always now, fuck, it’ll make me hard every time I look at it, seeing you in it makes me want to die in your eyes, baby, and Kenzie was nodding at him, her mouth open again; she’d heard him. “Yes, baby, yes,” Kenzie said, “Yes, it makes me so fucking wet for you, baby, fuck me again. Fuck me. Do as I say.”

He knelt again, obediently, unscrewing the lid on the oil, plunging his fingers into it and rubbing his hands together; the feeling of it was achingly cool and slippery, the bittersweet smell of it drifting into his nose, and he slathered it along his length so his cock shone in the low light; then he rewet his hands with more of it, rubbing it harshly into the lining of Kenzie’s vulva, up into her ass again as he pressed his fingers into her until she was soaking wet with it and glistening under his hand, and she bucked back into his touch, moaning again, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, her fingernails scraping along the dark wood in front of her, the dark green and gold of her eyes staring into his of blue fire embers. Beloved.

‘Fuck my ass, baby,” she said, letting her little mouth hang open as the words fell from her lips, and in her eyes he saw both the command and the subservience of her desire; saw that she demanded it of him, but also saw her acquiescence; her complete adoration, the adjuration of her love, and the fire of her need to bring him pleasure. I would do anything she told me to do, I would die for her or kill for her, but she would do anything for me, too, she will prostrate herself to me, and be happy to do it, and command me to command her and will obey me when she wants to because it gives her pleasure to do it, and I will obey her in all things, command her to her liking and for her joy, and he knew this utterly.

Duncan let his cock hover over the tight pucker of her ass for a moment more, pulling his fingers out, and they shivered against each other, eyes locked, their thoughts cascading against each other: My Persephone, give yourself to me, your Hades, give me your flowers and your heart and your body and your soul, and I am lost to you forever, for all of time, I am yours now and always, yours alone, I am lost in you, I am yours, body and soul. Then he pushed into her, shockwaves coursing through him at her tightness around his length and they both moaned, overcome with it. Kenzie whimpered with the combined adulation of intense pleasure and low pain, moving her hips under his hands, pushing him further in, almost subconsciously; wanting more from him; wanting him to fuck her deeper, immediately. Duncan moved into her, carefully; he looked up to see both their mouths hung open, lost in the sensation of him inside her this way, their eyes glossy with yearning. “I’m gonna fuck you harder now, angel,” he heard his voice say, low with promise, and Kenzie nodded and let out a little sound that was some combination of a sigh and a moan, words beyond her in this moment. He moved his hips, building up a stronger rhythm-- and he saw Kenzie’s tongue loll out of her mouth as he did, her senses overcome, saw a line of moisture drip down from her vulva onto the carpet in the mirror’s reflection where her cunt pulsed, empty of him but still hungry and building on its desirous need with the wild sensation of his long, aching hardness burying itself in her tight asshole, spreading her to the breaking point.

“Unnng, baby, you’re so big,” she whimpered, and he eased his hands down her back, his fingers coming over her hip to rub into her soaking clit, his other hand coming up to clutch the back of her head, golden hairs tangled in his fingers. “You’re so fucking big, baby, you’re filling me up to the edge, I can’t--I can’t--” She bucked into him again, his cock sliding down into her ass almost to the shaft, and Duncan wondered how long he could hold on, not very fucking long, baby, I don’t think I can, and saw his tongue flick out and lick his lips as she watched him, his need for her overwhelming.

“Kenzie, baby, you’re so tight, angel, you feel so fucking amazing, your little ass around my cock like this, fuck--”

“Go on, baby, fuck me good,” Kenzie smiled a little at that, her head turned up to him, and Duncan was struck with her beauty again, the gold coil of his orgasm falling down through his body bit by bit, struck with the intensity of his love for her, struck by her nature, her spirit, so staggeringly exquisite. “Fuck me good and make me come for you, I’m so close and I wanna come while I stare into your eyes in this gorgeous fucking mirror, baby--” and his fingers pressed down with more insistence into her clit, adoring the sound of her voice, his hair falling over his forehead in his reflection, a moan escaping his lips, his throat bobbing in need, then Kenzie was crying out and shaking violently into him, overcome with his length buried in the wild sensitivity of her ass, her orgasm swooping down onto them like an unseen predator, its hungry jaws closing around her and he held her under a strong, careful grip and watched another long line of moisture drip down from her shivering cunt to the carpet from her reflection in the mirror, her release falling, her voice bleeding into a shriek tinged with a sob as she lost herself in the intensity of her climax, and Duncan felt his eyes roll back as his orgasm rushed forward--”I’m gonna come, Kenzie--is it okay--” and Kenzie was murmuring “Yes, baby, fucking yes, come in my ass, Duncan, baby--” and he did, the heat of it bursting out of him into the wetness of her in a stream he could feel with sharp, scalding clarity, all his need and desire pouring out of him into her, his shudders long and low and prickling along his mind with insane euphoria, and inside the intensity of the orgasm was a darkly powerful energy that was rare--it seemed to coax every droplet out of him, burying itself inside her, needy to belong to her, desperate to be a part of her. All this time they stared at each other; Kenzie’s eyes full of whirling drops of gold, his strangely bright, lit from behind with a blue brazier, and Duncan felt again that he could see the gold ring of her halo, see the delicate outline of her soul, her nature, her spirit, so brilliant and so beautiful and so erotic and heavy in his hands that he felt faint with its weight. Their orgasms drifted out into quietness--their bodies heaved into each other, then shivered into long, overwhelmed breaths, then shuddered down into small, even sighs, and all that time, he stared into his Kenzie, and she stared back into him, the mirror like a bridge between the deepest parts of both of them, like a window into who they were in another world, a divine world full of unspeakable beauty, a place where they were together, also, and exalted in delights far beyond those of earth.

Then the spell seemed to dissipate, and Duncan and Kenzie fell back to solid ground, back into themselves; Duncan crashed back into his own psyche, and he eased himself out of her, wincing a little at how sensitive his cock felt now, wincing at the redness he’d left on her skin; turned her carefully, with terrible gentleness, laying her down, easing himself onto the rug beside her, propping himself up with one long arm as his hand fell along her cheek and her head lay down against the carpet, eyes staring up at him, languid, hazy, her little arms tucked into her stomach, hands falling down between her legs to probe gently at the ache of his worship. Duncan brought his trembling mouth down to her nipple and sucked at it, just for a moment, hand on her hip; then he moved back to gaze at her again. “Kenzie, are you okay?”

She sighed, and her smile sent bursts of gold dust around his heart. “Oh, Duncan. Yes. I feel so good, baby. I could die right here, I feel so fucking good.”

His own smile fell against the shape of her. “Take a shower with me, okay, baby?” he pleaded. Kenzie nodded, sighing again, and Duncan paused for a moment, then pushed himself up, gripping her gently under her arms, lifting her as if she were just a doll; Kenzie weakly brought herself up into his grasp on the balls of her feet, and Duncan steadied her as she stood, wobbly, against him, her tiny body folded into his arms as he pressed kisses into her forehead against her hairline, into the sweet scent of her hair.

In the shower Duncan pressed his hands softly into her, sponging sweet-smelling jasmine soap down her back, soothing the ache of him from her body, his face pressed into the soaking fall of her hair, pushing it gently aside with worshipping hands, rubbing softly at her neck, between her shoulder blades. Kenzie was quiet, and Duncan knew she didn’t want to speak right now, innately; her mind was full of dazzling bursts of gold light, and it was all he could see of her in this moment, and he felt her joy, the effervescence of her happiness, the intensity of her affection, overwhelming her. “I can’t wait to hold you on the beach all day tomorrow, baby,” he whispered into her ear, bringing the soft sponge around to the front of her body, pressing it first with aching gentleness down between her legs and then around his cock, now limp with release, and Kenzie sighed into his neck and nodded, still not saying anything, but Duncan knew she felt the same way, felt her gold emotions pressing into his skin, blessing him.

As they folded against each other (naked tonight, damp hair against the black pillows, her arms tucked into his chest, their feet touching, in their bed) Duncan felt himself drift away almost immediately in sleep, the darkness falling all around them, and he knew Kenzie was drifting away too, could feel the soft settling of her body against him, the sweet smell of her skin filling his senses, only the moon’s waxing eye falling down on them--and he didn’t know it, but that night both he and Kenzie dreamed about being together in that other place, that place of exalted delights far beyond those of earth, though in the morning, neither of them remembered.

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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BODY AND SOUL Part 25 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: From here on out, Duncan and Kenzie will both start to manifest more of their witch/warlock powers, amid the rest of the story. Their powers in this universe will never be as strong as their powers are as Michael and Mallory, but they will eventually learn how to control them better. The further they get from the city, the stronger their powers will become--as we’ll see in the next part. Duncan’s powers are stronger when Kenzie is near and when his motivation is something for her benefit. If it’s not obvious from the context, Duncan manifests Transmutation in this part for the first time when he moves himself to the water table; as we all know, Transmutation is one of the Seven Wonders. I loved getting to write Madeline telling Gretchen to shut the fuck up. Duncan panicked so immediately at Kenzie’s disappearance, he completely forgot about trying to use his phone to call/text her; I needed him to realize he can feel her over distances now, so fuck phones. The macarons look like this. The gold bottles of Moet are these. With Sargent’s KARER SEE, I wanted to give the readers an indication of Duncan’s idea of heaven in a piece of art he’d looked at since childhood; a lot of the next few chapters will be about the magic and divinity of nature, so it’s leading into those themes. The artworks I reference in this part: Waterhouse’s THE MAGIC CIRCLE (I have a print of that one hanging in the hallway of our apartment), Robert-Hughes’ MIDSUMMER EVE (I’ve had a print of this one since I was 14, and that print hangs in our entranceway), Millais’ THE MARTYR OF THE SOLWAY, Robert-Hughes’ DREAM IDYLL (I want a print of this one so bad now, fuck, it’s so beautiful). The service people are dressed as The Lady of Shalott, Narcissus, and Rosamund. Here’s Robert-Hughes’ DAY and NIGHT (STAR OF HEAVEN). As my Duncan is a lifelong art lover (especially romantic art), he has studied the Pre-Raphaelites extensively and knows the paintings from that time period extremely well. I made D’AULAIRES BOOK OF GREEK MYTHS Duncan’s most beloved in childhood because for a long time it was MY most beloved, starting around the time I was 11 or 12--I would check it out of the library almost every week and draw meticulous copies of the illustrations. It was the first book that really made me love mythology, and it is VERY close to my (and my Duncan’s) heart. The older edition (the one I’d get at the library) had a yellow cover and looked like this, and that’s what Duncan’s copy looks like too. Here’s the illustration of Persephone running to Demeter. Annette’s Bosendorfer Imperial looks like this. I made C-sharp the key that opens the passage in the library to the garage because it’s the first note of MOONLIGHT SONATA. The oak paneling in the library looks like this, the chandeliers like this. G-class Mercedes SUVs really do come with a smart key feature, I didn’t make that up, I think that shit is fucking bananas. BPM is one of the electronic/house stations on Sirius XM. Here is the beautiful Jubel cover of DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT Kenzie starts dancing to. That song is such a Duckenzie vibe. I listened to Kiiara’s Gloe a lot while editing this part, that is a HARD Duckenzie vibe song (”chain me up trap me in gold” like asdskgjshdghsg). SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE ME A GALA MOODBOARD, THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU ALL.

Duncan had felt drunk inside the strange aura Kenzie had created around them; his head was pounding now that it had evaporated, and it was all he could do to hold her against him, steady himself in her embrace. She felt suddenly hot and too-smooth under his fingers, like warm liquid was falling down her skin, like whatever she’d created around them was melting off her like rain water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?” He stared at her, his mind pricking with the residue of whatever it had been, like the final shocks of a fading orgasm. It was your power, angel. It was the energy that resides deep inside you. I know it was yours--but how did you do that? He’d balked harshly at Marissa’s sudden appearance, fighting off his intense dislike of her as best he could while she had been standing before him, but his relief at her departure was so heady he felt his body tingling with it now, with the relief of it. She had been from some other life; known some other Duncan. She should never have approached them, but Kenzie, he should have known, could take care of herself quite well, and now, it seemed, more than ever.

“I don’t really know, honestly, Dunny.” Kenzie’s face was pale under her makeup, her little breaths against him ragged with strain. “I just--I made her go away. I told her to leave.”

“That energy that was around us--it was like a force-field. I could feel it, Kenz. Like it was physical. Like putting your hand in water.”

“I made it. But I don’t really...I don’t know how. I just did it. I pulled it out of myself and put it around us.”

She was pressing against him, and Duncan knew she needed his energy, his comfort. Maybe I can give her some of myself the way she gives herself to me so often--the way she pushes gold into me. He brought his cheek against the side of her face, his hands drifting at the rose buds at the back of her hair, and tried to imagine the blue of him floating down into her; he watched Kenzie’s face relax, then her eyes closed. It’s working. He noticed some of the other guests watching them, glancing to him embracing her, over her gold train and her rose-scattered hair amid their conversations and as they drifted past into the dining area. Duckenzie, Duckenzie, Duckenzie. Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, there they are, look how beautiful they are, a Shepherd and a Stone, can you believe it, look at how he holds her--Duncan almost felt as though he could hear their thoughts. The night seemed to stretch into forever for him, and despite his concern for her he still couldn’t will away the agonizing sensitivity of the ring around his cock; will this ever end? God, I want to be alone with you so much, Kenzie. I can’t wait for this night to be over. I long to be safe and hidden in your embrace; I long for our solitude. Kenzie nodded against him, and he realized he had gathered her up in his arms, realized she was weak to the point of collapse, her knees buckling. She let out a little gasp, as if in surprise.

“I think it--I think it was too much, baby,” she whispered, and he stepped around her, lifting under her arms to help her sit down on the staircase near them. “I think I just--I need some water.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” Duncan was crouching down near her, his mind racing with fear. Fuck, baby, what WAS that? It was so intense, so powerful--it knocked the breath out of me to even be touching you while you did it. How can you possibly do something like that? What are you, Kenzie? What are we? He pressed his hands along her arms, soothingly, thinking his blue-flame thoughts down into her, imagining them licking around her carefully, like a low fire of soothing warmth. This is all so strange, but it feels so familiar too.. Like we’re unlocking parts of ourselves we didn’t realize were there. But they have been, all this time.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, okay, baby? I’ll be right back.” Duncan was whispering against her cheek. Kenzie nodded, her arms limp in her lap, her face still pale.

“Yes, please,” she murmured, her voice small, sighing. “I just need to sit for a minute.”

Duncan kissed her cheek with aching softness, then stood, pushing the worry he felt down with an insistent hand, turning towards the dining area that had been set up through the hall--he immediately noticed a huge banner that covered the wall through the carpeted way here, a towering print of Waterhouse’s The Magic Circle, falling from the top of the mansion’s high ceiling to the black carpet that ran along the floor here, continuing from outside. Tonight I see Kenzie in it, he thought. Kenzie pulling the circle out of herself and willing Marissa away with it. Fuck, I was so angry, but Kenzie was so calm. Kenzie was so fearless. And she is. How can I be afraid when she’s near? Okay, Duncan, focus. Kenzie needs water. Find some, quickly.

He glanced behind him to see Kenzie still resting on the step, her hand pressed to the side of her face, her gaze staring off into space. God, how did you do that, though, baby? That was fucking magic. I don’t know what else to call it. Like us being able to hear each other’s thoughts. Just straight fucking magic. What ARE you, my love? Who are you? He turned back, peering into the huge inner parlor he knew comprised this part of his mother’s mansion.

There were six low tables, embellished with black and gold cloth, spread against one wall, each with a stunning array of hors d’oeuvres and intricate sweets--round black-chocolate macarons with intricate golden icing, mounds of chocolate-dipped strawberries (white, dark, milk, caramel, toffee, even some with pink white chocolate) in every nook, tray after tray of glistening caviar and charcuterie, a hundred gold bottles of Moet stacked in a card-tower display, an impressive roasted pig with a russet-gold roasted apple in its mouth that seemed to be culled straight from a Medieval banquet hall, and an array of huge sheet cakes, each with a major Pre-Raphaelite work printed on it with sharp clarity--he could make out one with Robert-Hughes’ Midsummer Eve stretched across it, another with Millais’ serenely melancholy Martyr of the Solway. Everywhere I see her now, in everything, Duncan thought. There is no aspect that hasn’t adopted her shape. There is nothing that doesn’t reflect her in my eyes. He noticed crystal pitchers full of shivering ice water near the entrance to the next parlor with relief--but as Duncan went to step up to them to pour one for Kenzie, his path was blocked by a garish visage of gold and white tinsel--Gretchen Friedrichs.

“Duncan! There you are. But without your little princess, I see, I wonder where she went?”

Duncan breathed heavily through his nose, turning his eyes up to the ceiling, away from her blindingly white smile. Fates, surely you are testing me tonight. He felt his cock soften in the ring at the monstrosity of her dress--that at least is a boon, I guess.

“Afraid I don’t have the time for you tonight, Gretchen. You have a very selective memory regarding my willingness to actually engage with you.”

“You can’t possibly avoid me forever, Dunc-y,” she hissed, her smile clenching into a grimace. “I saw you and little Miss Stone talking to Marissa Montague over there, what a menage a trois that was, BPF would pay good money for the photo I snapped, I bet.”

“Gretchen, do whatever you want, but get out of my fucking way.” Duncan could feel hot anger boiling up behind his eyes and he snapped his mouth shut after the statement, his hands beginning to shake. Kenzie needs water and you are blocking it. Gretchen continued to ramble on with a smug look, but Duncan could no longer hear her words; a rushing like the hum of an ocean wave was filling his ears, and he closed his eyes, his body feeling hot, too hot, burning suddenly, like a fire growing under dry wood. I need to get to that water.

Suddenly Duncan was in front of the water pitcher table, so close to it he was falling against the edge, his eyes snapping open, almost losing his balance, bewildered as to how he got there. He glanced behind him in shock, noting that Gretchen was still where they’d both been standing a moment ago--he could only see the back of her horrible tinsel dress now, her head moving from side to side in confusion to find him. “What,” Duncan murmured to himself. “How--the fuck?” I thought about what I needed--water for Kenzie. And then what, I moved myself to the water table with my fucking mind? He felt wildly dizzy for a moment, watched the room pitch under his gaze, felt his eyes rolling--then he steadied himself with a forceful hand and grasped one of the pitchers, dipping it into one of the glass tumblers lined there. Who fucking cares, he thought. Water to Kenzie first, then I can figure out what the hell that was all about.

Duncan felt a hand dip against his elbow, dragging him out of his inner monologue--he heard Madeline’s familiar laugh near his shoulder, and looked down at her with a wave of intense relief. He noticed Erik had come up beside him with her, and Madeline’s laugh was directed at Annette’s flamboyant stylist.

“Duncan, there you are,” Madeline said, mirroring Gretchen’s facetious words with a reassuring sincerity. “Where’s Kenzie?” Suddenly Madeline looked worried, her mouth dipping down from the laugh.

“She felt dizzy and asked me to get her some water, so I left her on the stairs in the foyer--”

“Did something happen, sweetie? You look terribly pale.” Erik was holding a dry martini with three green olives swirling in the bottom, a plastic stirring straw languidly poised in his hand. He’d clearly been in the middle of one of his many wild stories (usually regarding being an openly gay socialite in 70’s New York City), but had stopped abruptly upon seeing Duncan’s confused face.

“We ran into Marissa Montague. She was harassing us--I don’t know how to explain it. Kenzie told her to go away, and she did. But then Kenzie felt dizzy. I think it’s all...it’s just a lot for her,” he finished, lamely. Finding out she has the actual mind power to make people go away if she wants them to, yeah, that’s a lot for her. And a lot for me too. And apparently I can move myself from one place to another just by thinking about it hard enough. So...that’s new.

“Honey, you look awful--I mean, you look wonderful, but you look awful, like you did last night. I saw Annette in the next room over, you might want to stay out of there if you’re trying to avoid her tonight,” Madeline had a plate with several of the chocolate-and-gold macarons on it in her hand. She offered one to Duncan and he took it. “Thanks, Madeline. I’ll bring this to Kenzie too. I think we’re just--it’s been a really long few days.”

“Duncan Shepherd, you’re going to talk to me or I’m going to give that photo to BPF--” Gretchen’s voice was coming up on them now from where she’d finally turned around.

“Gretchen, shut the fuck up,” Madeline snapped at her, pursing her lips and glaring at the platinum-haired woman over her glasses. “I told you not to cart your bootlicking bony ass near Duncan and Mackenzie tonight, didn’t I? Are you fucking deaf?” Gretchen’s mouth closed with a snap, and Erik snorted at her in abrupt amusement. Duncan sent a silent thank you out to Kenzie’s (wonderful, bold, brilliant, badass) mother, and brushed past Gretchen’s horrible tinsel sleeve, the glass of water in one hand and the little chocolate macaron in the other, back towards where he had left Kenzie on the stairs. He heard Gretchen’s snappy heels try to come after him, then the rushing swirl of Erik’s earrings and poncho as he blocked her path. I love you both so much, Duncan thought. I could kiss your feet right now. I could sing your high praises into heaven.

He walked quickly back through the hall, heart racing, eyes glancing back up to The Magic Circle, hovering over him, spread gargantuan on the wall like an overwhelming spell, and he felt a drop in his stomach, suddenly, a foreboding drift of precognition--Duncan looked up to where he’d left Kenzie on the stairs. The spot was empty, and Kenzie was nowhere to be seen.

Oh no. Baby. Where are you.

Duncan’s eyes skirted back and forth rapidly, over the politicians and celebrities decked in opulent gowns and meticulously tailored suits, his heart floating up again into his throat, stifling his breath. He tried to steady his racing thoughts--okay, Duncan, okay. Where would she have gone. Maybe she went outside to get some air. The front balcony is up the stairs. She would have seen it from outside.

Duncan turned up the staircase, dipping his head down, anxious to avoid anyone coming down the stairs opposite him, but skirting his eyes up to search for Kenzie. He saw a flash of gold on the opposite side of the staircase, started toward it--but it was someone else, a random woman with a gold bow tied around her waist, her arm looped around the man descending the stairs beside her. And the problem with making gold part of the theme is...everyone is wearing something gold. A cold sweat was breaking out on Duncan’s brow, and his skin felt clammy, his nerves jangling wildly. Fuck, baby, where did you go.

Duncan reached the top of the staircase, turning with a clipped insistence from the banister to the upstairs railing, around to where he knew the balcony extended over the front doorway; he thought of the night he’d come here to tell his mother about Kenzie for the first time, the dark look in her eyes as she’d gazed down on the BMW from her lofty position. You always want to be a little bit above everyone else, Mom, he thought, but Claire Underwood outwitted you this time. She told me the one thing she knew would make me resent you. And now I do. I can’t help it. I’m fucking heartbroken, and I resent you. I resent that it had to come to this for you to accept Kenzie, too. For you to finally see how beautiful she is. It shouldn’t have taken you so long. It’s so obvious. She’s like the sun in a clear summer sky, the moon tonight, golden and immediate. You knew right away that she was infinitely lovely. But you refused to let me see that you knew. You were selfish, and you hid what you knew in your heart to be true. Duncan was still clutching the glass and the macaron in a careful hand. These are for Kenzie, so I need to keep them safe.

Duncan pitched one of the French doors open with the opposite hand, half-running out onto the ledge of the balcony--there were two men smoking and chatting animatedly to one another, one of them gesticulating in the air and the other laughing, and they both turned to him, surprised at the loud bang of the door swinging open. He glanced at them, them his eye skirted over the rest of the ledge, frantic, to no avail. There was no one else. Kenzie isn’t here. Kenzie, where are you, fuck, baby, where the fuck are you.

“Mr. Shepherd, are you alright?” One of the men spoke loudly to him, cupping his hand beside his mouth from where they were leaning. He didn’t recognize them, but it made sense that they’d recognize him; this was his mother’s house, after all.

“Have either of you seen Mackenzie Stone? She’s wearing a gold dress with a long train and a gold necklace with a ruby. Roses in her hair.”

The men looked at each other, shaking their heads, then back at him. “Nobody’s been out here but us since we came out to smoke. Before you, that is.”

“Okay. Um. Thanks.”

Duncan turned, sickness pitting in his stomach, feeling dizzy again. He yanked the French door open again, reentering the mansion--he could hear the loud sounds of the crowd growing downstairs, and alarm was beating wildly into him, beginning to constrict his throat and needle at his lungs. She was dizzy, what if she fainted somewhere? What if someone bothered her? Harris isn’t here, what if someone took her somewhere? Oh, fuck. The needling fear compounded in him, pressing painfully into his senses. Duncan breathed in, slowly, closing his mouth. Remember how you told her to breathe. Just breathe. Her face was so frightened. But you calmed her. You know you did. You pressed your comfort into her, the way she can to you. You can do that, too, and you know it. You just did something else, too. You moved without moving through physical space. You fucking teleported from one end of the room to the other. How the fuck would you do that? But you fucking did it. You didn’t walk around Gretchen--she wouldn’t have let you. You fucking MOVED through invisible space around her. You mutated time and space and made yourself appear where you wanted to be. You twisted it to your will. You know you did. You FELT it.

Duncan held the breath, then blew carefully through his mouth, closing his eyes.

If I can do that--if I can move through time and space if I want something badly enough, if I need it badly enough--I wonder if I can will myself to feel her, too, if I need it badly enough, if I need to know. Feel her across time and space, wherever she is in this house, feel her there, and know that she’s there, and fucking find her. I wonder if that first night on the balcony I was drawn there by the knowledge that she was there. That even though I didn’t know it consciously, I knew it innately. I knew she was there in my secret heart. I think so. I think I did.

So, now. Kenzie. Where are you. Show me where you are.

Duncan breathed in once more, through his nose--then, he held the breath, and as he did, he pressed himself outward (through time and space), sent himself, his secret self, out. He felt it, felt the piece of him like a tendril, a string (a golden thread, tinged with blue) that extended from him and drifted out, searching, intent. Kenzie. Where are you. Tell me. It’s me, Kenzie.

He continued to drift himself out this way, to let his mind wander in cool darkness. He couldn’t see the interior of the mansion in his mind--it was inky black with his eyes closed, and there were no images in his mind, but nevertheless he could feel the searching, sense it rather than see it, and knew, suddenly, that he was close to her, that she was nearby--in his senses he could suddenly smell roses and vetiver, the muskiness of her body, could sense that she was in tears, could almost taste their salt. Kenzie, Kenzie. Oh baby, where are you? It’s me. Tell me where you are. Can you hear me?

He opened his eyes. She hadn’t replied--he hadn’t heard her voice, not out loud and not in his mind, either--but Duncan could feel her anyway, feel the gold of her, pulsing like a ball of immaculate light. He couldn’t really see where she was, not with his eyes. But he could feel her. He began to walk, releasing all resistance from his mind as he let the breath out--his feet led him back down the stairs, and then he was running down them, the water from the glass in his hand splashing down his fingers. He veered to the side, around the stairs and under them, narrowly avoiding a Congresswoman in a voluminous glittering black gown, gasping out an apology and continuing back, through the space there with a good portion of his mother’s private art collection, down a back hall.

No one was back here--the hall opened to another large parlor, this one dark and quiet, the shadows long on the red velvet loveseats. Duncan knew this room well; it had once been his downstairs playroom when he was a child, later converted to another sitting room when he went away to private boarding school, the one where he’d been bullied relentlessly, as he revealed to Kenzie at Madeline’s house last night. He saw more of his mother’s storied art collection on these walls as he rushed through the room, still following the feeling that was Kenzie--particularly, one of the pieces he’d long admired since he was a child. It was called Karer See, and it depicted a landscape of pink, navy and lavender precipices, rising above a dappled green-and-coppery forest and the white rocky shore of a blue lake in watercolors. It was a protected monument in Italy, and the painting was by a turn-of-the-century American named John Singer Sargent, who was far better known for his portraits, particularly one of Teddy Roosevelt. As a child Duncan remembered staring at it for hours, particularly drawn to its purply hills--I bet heaven looks like that, he remembered thinking. Like those hills. Now they drew him back into the memory of the dreams he’d been having as of late; the dream of Kenzie with wings, soothing his darkness away, the dreams in the ethereal other place that felt imperceptible to him outside those dreams, where Kenzie’s eyes whirled with golden galaxies and her clothing was made of strange geometries. Duncan walked quickly past the painting, his eyes skirting to it in the shadows, affectionately, like it was an old friend.

His feet continued to carry him beyond, through to the end of the room, and Duncan’s heart slammed into his ribs: he could really feel her now, knew she was very close, could feel the golden-blue thread running down to her, shortening with every step he took, his black Wyatt boots clicking in the silence and shadows of this part of the mansion, ringing in his ears. The golden, pulsing heart of her was close, so close--he marveled at it, seeing it and not seeing it, wondering how he could have ever missed it that first night, missed it in the days that led up to now, but then recalled how her headband with pointed stars had looked in the city lights that night--how Kenzie looked in the morning, in the sunlight, in his bedroom, in his bed, soon to become theirs. A halo. And this light--this is her halo. It’s not a halo like how I’ve always thought of one, though. This halo is the iridescence of her soul, and it calls out to me, through time. I would see it in the deepest darkness. I would see it even if every star in the universe burnt out into nothing. I’d see it. I would. I can quiet my mind, and in that quiet place, and I can always find her. I will always be able to see her there.

At the end of the room was a squared half-space cut away from the wall, and in the space were three doors--one led outside, through an unremarkable blank white door with a peephole, a door which Duncan knew well. It faced the backlot of the mansion and when he was a child a car would pick him up from that curb to take him to his private elementary school. The door to his right was a supply closet for the housekeeper--and the left door was an old-fashioned powder room, a golden plaque on it with laser-cut letters that told as much, with a elegant round sink, a vanity with an oval mirror, a blush-colored chaise lounge and a discreet toilet with a wood door, if he remembered correctly. It was rarely used, as this back parlor room was now rarely used--and therefore no one would suspect it to be occupied by any guests tonight.

But Kenzie’s in there, Duncan knew. And she’s been crying.

Duncan went to the door, and for a moment he didn’t speak, only achingly pressed his fingers against it--he could feel her emanating out from it with golden warmth, tinged with painful spears of distress. Duncan realized he’d felt these spears before, but not as consciously--that night she texted me and asked me to come to her apartment, that same night I told Mom about her, he realized. I could feel her tears all the way to her door. My heart had ached with them. It was as if his memory had been shrouded in a fine fog, and feeling her as he now could, many hidden aspects of it were now becoming clear. And now that he was here, now that his ear was pressed to the door, Duncan could hear her, so quiet as to be almost imperceptible to his ears, but with his mind he could hear her, finally hear her voice, and then he could hear the minute rustle of her tears, the quiet movements she made in the room behind the door.

Why is there so much darkness in people’s hearts? Her thoughts drifted into him, and he felt that she didn’t know he was there yet, lost in her sadness. Why can I feel it press on me so sharply now, feel it as though it were my own burden? Why is it so cutting, like a knife? Is it because we love each other so much? Has it opened my heart so much that I can feel pain as well, as much as beauty and joy, this way? Goddess, it fucking aches. The hate in his eyes. As if he resented my very existence, my reality. Resented his Fate, and wished he could begrudge me my own.

Oh, baby, what happened. Duncan knocked, softly, breath hitching. “Kenzie. Baby. It’s me.”

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment and he could hear Kenzie sniffing now, her little voice sighing, and it made his body shudder with longing for her. He tried the knob; it was locked.

“Kenzie. Please let me in.”

There was another beat, and then he could hear her moving--moving to the door and turning the lock. She pulled it open and he moaned to see her tearstained face in the low golden light she’d switched on in the powder room; the glistening moisture on her cheeks. Her eyes (the damp cool of evening as the light fades to russet gold) fell into his and he reached for her, gripped her little wrist in aching fingers over the gold and diamond of the Cartier bracelet locked there, and gently pushed on the door so it fell open. Kenzie stood there weakly, her golden aura still intensely lovely, her sadness shrouded in angelic sweetness; her sadness is divine, as everything that is her is divine, her sorrow holy, and I would kiss it from her lips, drink it into me, take it from her and soothe her. Duncan shut the door behind them, turning the lock again. No eyes but mine, baby. He set down the water glass, half empty from spilling it as he ran, and macaron, now half-crushed, onto the vanity, gathering her into his arms, gathering the golden folds of her dress into his body, pressing his face down into the crook of her little collarbone against the gold braid of the necklace, the scent of the roses in her hair drifting into him, and he loved it so, loved the way she melted into him, the relief he felt wash over her to be inside his arms, the relief he pushed into her to have found her safe, to have found her, to have seen her and found her this way. She sighed, her head falling back, her eyes fluttering closed, and her mouth dipped open, pressing against the dripping gold of his jacket.

“Fuck, Kenzie, I was so scared--”

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” she was whispering and his mouth was rushing against hers, I can’t fucking not kiss you anymore, baby, I can’t be away from you anymore, please let me kiss you, please kiss me oh god I thought you were gone I thought you were hurt I thought you were lost and he was saying “Kenzie, I love you, I fucking love you, baby, I love you--” and she was moaning with an aching insistence into him, lifting her breasts into his fingers in the delicate boning of her bodice, her little arms drifting around his neck, her hair and the dip of her back so soft it brought tears into his eyes, her little tongue pressing against his suddenly, her head turning and reaching up to his fingers, her little hands flitting down over the crotch of his tightly tailored pants, kindling the blood back into his cock, reminding him of the ring again finally as it pressed needily into his hardness after his panicked forgetting, reminding him that he belonged to her and she belonged to him, and that this day has been such a long one to bear, jagged with emotion, that he longed for her as the sun longed for the moon during the longest day. Duncan was gasping against her, determined to find the source of her pain before he became utterly lost in her--he broke their kiss, looking down into her eyes, pressing her against the edge of the vanity’s mahogany table. They were half-lidded now, their dark green-gold shimmering with an insistent approval, an urging that was tinged with pain and kindled with need.

“Kenzie, what happened? Why are you crying? Why did you leave the stairs?”

He kept his voice soothing and low, watched the little trembling movements of her face, the shivering of her eyelashes, the tears hovering there, the dip of wetness on her lips from him, the dampness around her nose from crying. Her makeup hadn’t been mussed, though--Georgio had done his job immensely well. She looked down, and he saw her chin trembling now, too, fighting off more tears. He pulled a tissue from a box on the vanity, gently dabbing it under her eyes, soothing it on her cheeks, his other hand coming up to cup under her chin.

“It was your uncle.”

“What?” God, I’d completely forgotten he’d be here. He shouldn’t be, he’s too sick, but he’s so stubborn. He must be in a lot of pain tonight. Fuck, he must be in a terrible mood tonight.

“He’s here. He showed up a minute after you went to get me some water--” Kenzie glanced at the half-empty glass, reached for the macaron absently, staring down at it, avoiding his eyes now, trying to hide her hurt.

“From Momby,” he murmured, and she nodded, lip trembling again, bringing it up to her lips and biting into it, a tear falling from her eye as she nibbled at it, as if to absorb her mother’s strength through it.

“He--he saw me first. I still felt so weak, I felt like I could hardly stand. He recognized me right away. I sort of recognized him, I mean, I’d seen a picture of him before, and I felt that it was him, you know? How I can...do that.” She breathed in, shudderingly, and Duncan lowered his hand carefully to her thigh, the silence heavy, pressing into them. His cock was pressing into the front of his pants now, flushed with arousal again at her nearness, the terrible ache in him returned after the anxiety had pushed it back. Kenzie had turned her eyes up to him once more, her hair falling back, the very soft golden light in the solitude of the powder room glinting through her dress. It was so quiet now; his fear had stilled, his anxiety had gone entirely, and all he knew was that Kenzie was sad, that he wanted her with an ache that was utterly beyond words, and that the strange, chaotic energy of this evening was reaching a peak, the press of it having settled into his body. He realized vaguely that he hadn’t had a drink for hours and yet felt deeply drunk--drunk on you, my love, drunk with need for you.

“He came up to me and I could feel how much pain he was in right away--his face was pinched with pain, and he was trying to hide it in his body but I could feel it,” Kenzie had swallowed the rest of the cookie and was moving her hands out towards him, towards his chest, her fingers drifting against him. Fuck, yes, Kenzie, touch me, please, please, there’s nothing else but your touch. Duncan let his other hand drift up to her breast and Kenzie leaned into his fingers, her head dipping to the side as she spoke.

“He said “you’re a cunning little slut, aren’t you, well, you’re not getting into this family no matter how many times you fuck him,” and the pain he was in was so strong, Duncan, it was like I couldn’t even speak, couldn’t move, I could feel it like dark storm clouds--I felt frozen around him, he felt dark, I wanted to run away from him but he grabbed onto me here--” she held up her wrist and Duncan reached for it with achingly delicate fingers, soothing along her skin where he could almost feel the hot memory of his uncle’s anger. How dare you, Bill. How fucking dare you touch her. I could fucking kill you. “--and he said I bet you had something to do with Claire Underwood telling him about all that, didn’t you, I bet you’re the one who told him to go to Claire--” “Oh, fuck, baby, no, fuck--” Duncan was pressing against her now, pressing her into the vanity’s edge, and he felt the anger and need in him crash against him again, felt the ring pressing with insistence into his groin, could feel the trembling in her limbs expanding now, could feel the sadness in her dissipating into her own desire, her thoughts beginning to pulse with a deeper frustration, one for him. I want you, he heard it drift through him, into the core of him. Fuck, Duncan, I want you now.

“Who fucking cares what he thinks about anything, Kenzie--” his mouth was hovering just above hers, his arms tight around her, tightening more, desperate to have her as close as she could possibly be, the halo of gold hovering around her in his eyesight now. “He’s dying and he resents our happiness and you know that, he resents you because you’re so fucking lovely and so good, and so much more than he ever was, could ever be--” and Kenzie was breathing harshly against him now, fighting to hold onto her composure, he could feel it, feel her need to hold out for just a moment longer, her skin damp and warm and so soft under his fingers, her smell exquisitely sweet with an edge of wildness now, the Bacchanalian energy of the Gala beyond having finally reached them here in this secret corner, and it seemed to be flooding the powder room, stoking his cock. His hands fell down to cup around her ass and Kenzie’s words hitched, she moaned into the edge of his jaw, “he hated me, baby--ha-hated me, hated, and it filled me with such sorrow for him, ohhh, Duncan, he hated my light, he wanted to crush it, so I ran away from him, I found this room, and Dunny, I felt you here, I felt that this space used to be yours, is that right, was it? Dunny--”

“Mhmmm, yes, Kenzie, it was--it was my playroom when I was little, it was mine for a long time, Kenzie, oh my Kenzie,” and his hands were falling further down to dip her ass apart, to spread her achingly from the plug he knew was still nestled inside her, and he opened his mouth against hers, hovering a breath away from kissing her, and he felt, with a deep, overwhelming drift of satisfaction, her own mouth open under him, the supplication in her in this moment, the aching breadth of the pause where their lips anticipated and contemplated each other, could suddenly sense the musk of her climb higher, sense her sharp need for him. The openness that had come upon her felt like it would stop his heart; Duncan knew, suddenly, that she would let him do anything he wished to her, let him worship her by any means in this room, in this moment charged with the intensity of this night, and that the anger she had felt from Bill Shepherd had only kindled in her, ultimately, the desire to love him even more, if she possibly could, had solidified and crystallized her devotion, and therefore Bill had failed, failed utterly in his goal to hurt her acutely. The hurt in her was already melting away, already obsolete in the face of their desire for each other now, and her trust burst over Duncan like the soothing, stinging slap of a cascade of clear water. I would die for you, Duncan Shepherd. I would die a thousand deaths. There are no words for my devotion. As I know you are devoted to me with all of your soul, know that my devotion too is undying. There is nothing that can tear us asunder, not truly. Now, beloved: worship me with your body.

Duncan’s fingers drifted down, down through the dip between her ass, finding the jeweled end of the plug under the silky gold; Kenzie gasped into his mouth and her breath was sweet with chocolate, her eyes glowing with the depth of her need, the tears still trapped there now tears of her devotion for him, and his hand pressed, hard, insistent, against it, pressing the plug harshly into her, her body rocking up from the edge of the vanity flush against him. His other hand came up, drifting over her collarbones, up to the slender, delicate beauty of her throat, fingers trailing over the gold braid (but I’m imagining your rose choker there, so achingly beautiful, my beloved) and he gripped her there, gentle at first, then with gathering strength, pulling her flush against him, her legs now spreading on either side of his thigh, one of them dipping, white and achingly beautiful, from the slit in the cascade of the golden gown she wore, the space between her thighs hot through the leg of his pants, his crotch heavy with hardness against her abdomen, one hand driving the plug roughly into her, the other squeezing into her throat, her mouth open under his.

“Fuck me, Prince,” Kenzie whispered, her breath gasping under his hand. Duncan tightened it again. She cried out, her voice needling into him; he closed his eyes, gasped against her, his lips dipping up to her nose, down to the crook of her chin. Her slender, beautiful hands found the button of his pants, finally, Kenzie, fuuuuck, fuck me, fucking finally, and she was working the opening there apart, fingers finding the silicone edge of the ring, the absolute torment that had become his erection, stoked back and forth for hours now between the throes of hardness and arousal. She pulled it out, her touch a wild distress to him, making him groan beyond his ability to control, and he looked down as she did at his cock--it was pink with hardness, straining, jumping with a shivering vibration against her palm cupped along its underside. It needed her, and nothing else would suffice. Please, help me, his thought leaked through him, and he saw that she heard him with acute clarity from the blush on her cheeks. Only you can ease my suffering, Mackenzie Stone.

Kenzie kept her palm flush against his cock, her eyes finding his, locking in his gaze, and she dipped her fingers up between her legs, up under the slit of the dress, finding the waistband of her panties and leaning away from the edge of the vanity--she pulled them down and as they fell around her ankles she lifted her feet out of them, pushing them away with the edge of one heel. She spread her thighs apart now, the dress hitching a little up her hips from the slit, shimmering, exposing her to the dip of her leg turning into her abdomen, but still shrouding her cunt, and Duncan demandingly urged his hand against the plug inside her ass again through the supple fabric--the moan that fell from her lips drifted in a long, loud cadence, extending through the moment, spreading with a golden insistence. Kenzie didn’t speak again, only slid up onto the vanity’s mahogany surface now, his hand lifting at her ass to steady her there, and then using her palm to guide his thick, constricted cock to the dip between her legs, and her eyes said I’m going to beg you now, beloved, I want to beg you.

“Please fuck me,” she whined into him, her eyes liquid with color, and Duncan heard the moan that escaped him, an involuntary one he’d never have been able to stave off, a cry that erupted from the center of his soul. He drove himself into her, and they gasped into the crevice of each other’s lips, her little tongue pressing flush into his, her need exquisite, wanton, and abject. Duncan felt lost in it--her trust was absolute here, and it shattered at his soul. He kept his fingers pressed tightly at her throat, the golden necklace indenting into his palm as he carefully hitched at her dress, riding it up higher towards her hips, pressing her thighs apart, and dipping his thumb down to her clit, down to her cunt to feel at her wetness to be sure she was ready, before he drove his cock further into her, utterly, until he was buried inside her, and he went to her ear and whispered “Kenzie, I have been waiting to fucking fuck you, and now I’m going to do it for as long as I want to, and you’re mine, aren’t you, baby, aren’t you, you’re my angel baby who needs my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, Dunny, yes, fuck me, fuck, ahh, you’re so fucking hard, unng, please, please, I need you, I need your cock, neeeeed you--”

He was tapping his fingers against the plug now, harsh little snaps that made her body keen, made her eyes flutter rapidly, made her breath shudder out as he drove in and out of her, his eyes dipping down to look at the spread lips of her labia, the glistening moisture of her arousal, the wetness and painful hardness of his thick cock as he fucked her, the ring causing blood to course through his length again and again, sending his mind into a shivering spiral of lust that urged him on, harder, harder, and he was dragging her against him, their bodies so flush that he lost his understanding of where they ended, as he had before, a loss so exquisite to him he already felt sorrow for the moment he knew they’d be separated again, her little face pressed into the crook of his neck, her fingers gripping at his jacket with tight fingers, her mouth a round, supple fruit on his skin, and her keening, tiny sounds sending undulations of relief into him, shudderingly cool, achingly hot.

“Finally, finally, fuck, Kenzie, I thought I would fucking die from not being able to fuck you--” their mouths were distressing into each other, his hand still possessive at her throat, and he wanted to speak to her aloud, wanted her to hear him with her ears rather than her thoughts, wanted to speak, needed to tell her as well as he could with words, “I thought I’d go insane from it, god, like your hand was around me all day, like your lips were on me there, I’ve been lost in thoughts of you, lost in my need for you--”

“I wanna suck your cock, baby,” she was whispering into him now, and Duncan moaned, the tiny softness of her in his arms, under his hand, around his length, making him shake. “Please, baby, please let me suck on your beautiful cock, it’s what I want. Make me suck it.” Blood surged into his length again, buried inside her, and he gasped, sucking air through his teeth, her eyes (golden starlight in a galaxy of green) hovering at his cheeks, her little face imploring him, beyond irresistible. I’m high on you, drunk on you, you are the headiest wine, the strongest weed, a drug beyond the sweetest of any drug on earth, my lovely beloved, my exquisite Princess, the constant kindling of my heart to the highest of all pleasure. He was pulling out of her, lost for a moment in the disappointment of his emptiness, then Kenzie was sliding off the vanity to the floor, sliding to her knees before him in the gold dress, the roses in her hair cascading with sweet scent, her little fingers gripping at him, wet with the arousal from inside her, dipping her mouth suddenly, quickly against the head of his cock and sucking lightly, her tongue fluttering on the underside against the delicate veins there, and the roses in her hair were shuddering at her attentions to him, they were shivering with her ache, and Duncan was moaning again, his hands gripping the sides of her head and driving her down onto him, her mind urging him on, yes, baby, yes, like that, make me suck you this way, I know you keep a wild god inside you and he pulses with lust, he wants to prostrate me, I long to be prostrated in this moment, I long for his wild needs, so make me, make me--and he was gripping her under her chin, gripping his long fingers under her jaw so his thumb pressed under her ear on one side of her face, and his index finger pressed to the other, and he was fucking her mouth with long, steady motion, and Kenzie’s eyes fluttered closed and she choked on him, her little throat constricting, but in her mind she was saying do not stop, don’t stop Duncan, don’t stop, fuck me, fucking fuck me, fuck your Princess, my mouth is for you--and so he did, continued to fuck her little mouth, his hardness filling her, drool sliding from her chin as she hooked her fingers around his thighs, clutching onto him.

“I’m not gonna come in your mouth, baby,” he murmured down to her, hearing the commanding edge there, knowing it was what she wanted him to say, knowing she wanted demands from him, because Duncan could feel the rushing in his ears, falling down his body, the threat of his release, and he was desperate to fuck her ass, fuck her ass that had been made caged for him for hours, fuck her ass that had had the plug hidden there, a secret for his pleasure, waiting for him. “It’s time to take your plug out now, and I’m gonna fuck your ass as hard as I want to, angel. Okay?” He was pulling out of her, his fingers still gripping along her jaw, and Kenzie was gasping, her eyes drifting open and closed, spittle leaking around her lower lip, her head crooked to the side as if she were about to drift into sleep, her little breasts heaving for air.

“Okay, baby,” she was moaning, and he was dipping down, his tongue lapping up the spit on her chin, lips bruising into hers, and her arms drifted up around his neck and he was pulling her up to her feet, steadying her, kissing her again and again, tasting at her need which hovered around her like a patina, knowing his own was as strong, loving the feeling of their mingling desires, loving that he knew how much she wanted him to command her this time, loving that he could give her what she was asking for, loving her radiant trust, lost in its effulgence. He pressed her back against the vanity again, his hands pressing harshly along her arms, along the golden waist of her gown, tasting her still, following the thrill of her tongue and her sighs, then he drifted himself away from her mouth with all the resolve he could muster, turned her hips so she faced the mirror, and looked into her eyes there. Kenzie’s breath was shallow, her eyes glowing with that unearthly gold, and she was nodding to him, her mouth dipped open. Fuck my ass, baby.

Duncan crouched, grasped the long hem of her gown, and straightened, pulling the dress in endless gathers of gold lame, dipping them up over her ass, holding them steady at her waist in his fist, tightly. His cock was pressing, utterly stiff and straining with painful hardness, against the dip between her ass cheeks now, and he moved back a little to see the jeweled end of the plug glittering up at him--around it, her ass was red with its attention, raw with its pressure from hours of its pressing on her, and Duncan groaned, feeling his cock jump up at the sight of it. Fuck. Angel. Spread for me. Spread your legs for me. Kenzie moved her thighs apart as he gripped the folds of her dress carefully at her back, and Duncan watched the plug bob inside her, shiver as her ass clenched on it. Time for me to fuck you in your tight little ass, Princess Kenzie.

He drifted his long fingers down to the jewel, then Duncan whispered “Push out, baby,” and Kenzie nodded, her golden gaze shivering on him in the vanity’s oval mirror--he pulled at the jeweled end, insistent, as he felt her ass push outwards, and Kenzie moaned, moaned so that Duncan fought the urge to come in that very moment, sucked his resolve in with a cold hand, because her moan was piteous and lit with low pain, deep pleasure, and overwhelming rapture for him.

“Fuck, I’m so empty now, fuck, I need you, Dunny,” her words were rushing out into her moan, her hands clutching at the edges of the vanity, and Duncan dropped the plug to the floor, unceremoniously, its use now at an end for their devotions in this moment, and he brushed her hair to the side, over her shoulder, loathe to muss it, grasping her neck (warm, shivering) in hot, insistent fingers, and he said “you’re mine, Kenzie, and I am infinitely blessed,” and he drove himself, adamant and inexorable, inside the tight hollow of her, and Kenzie cried out in a voice that sent a patterned madness into his mind, like the holy geometries of their divine dreams.

She was crying out again now, in a stream of sound, almost sobbing, as he drove in and out of her achingly sensitive ass, teased for him as it had been, and his cock was so hard with the pressure of the ring that he felt his eyes rolling back, his mouth open and his tongue pressing out against his lips, the entirety of the sensation of her simply too much to bear. “Fuck my little ass, baby, fuck it hard, fuck me good, baby, fuck me, harder, fucking harder, make me fucking scr-eee-am---” Kenzie voice bled out as he lowered himself into a studied concentration, pushing her into the vanity’s edge roughly, his thighs smacking into the bottom of her ass as he plunged himself into her, her tone lifting into an ecstatic abandon as he stretched her. Her asshole was swollen, pinched with redness, and his cock was rosy with strain and the veins of him stood out starkly as he watched himself slide into her, then out, then back, concentrating all his effort on fucking her, his hand dipping down between the lips of her cunt and his index finger sliding with conviction into the top of her clit, steadying there with a careful pressure, dipping down then holding, dipping back up, beginning a lazy motion that he knew was sending sharp shocks of arousal through her groin there, because now he could see it in her mind, see the shape of her orgasm like the golden sphere of her soul that he had seen before, the one he had run towards.

“Fucking you, Kenzie, is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt--or will ever feel,” he dipped down to her ear, murmuring clearly into it, leaning over her, staring into her eyes as he worked with slow, steady movements into her ass, against her clit. “There are no words for your beauty, no description for your loveliness, and nothing I can say will ever truly give justice to the depth of my love for you, only you, only you, Kenzie, forever--” and she was crying out again, unable to speak, her mouth dipped up in an ecstatic expression, her eyes in his, then rolling up, overwhelmed, and she was leaning back to receive his cock, leaning back from the edge of the vanity so he was buried in her, their bodies in tandem, rocking back and forth. Her dress had begun to slip from his hand and he gripped it tightly again, rebounding into her, reconcentrating his fingers on her clit and lifting her body up into his with steady hands, watching her little fingers clenching against his arm where she clutched at him as he held her, and he could see the way her thighs had begun to shudder, a sure sign of her orgasm rushing close by--your beautiful curvy thighs begin to shake, then the rest of your body, your beautiful body, I love it so, your beauty calms every fear in my heart, my Kenzie, I adore you, I worship you, I love you, I always will--

“Dunny--fucking FUCK--your cock is fucking heaven, you’re heaven--Dunnyyyyy--” she was crying out his name in a long wail, his mouth open achingly on her jaw, sucking, his tongue pressing into her wildly sweet skin there, his hands holding her little body flush to him as he continued to fuck her taut, diminutive asshole, not allowing himself to falter in his ministrations despite the intoxicating sound of her voice, stretching out into a keening lament that made his skin break out immediately into sweat, the sound of her almost otherworldly, like the voice of ecstasy from another world, and it was beautiful to him beyond all description, the sound of her this way. Eventually, Kenzie quieted to low, keening whimpers, and her arm lifted to the side of his hair and his ear as he continued to work at her ass and her clit with his fingers, down the angular stubble of his jaw, her middle and index fingers dipping into his mouth (suck baby, suck on me, suck on my neck and my fingers and fuck my little ass and come for me, come now, okay, it’s time for you to fucking come for me--), his teeth pressing gently into the pads of them as he sucked insistently at her, his own moans compounding now that she had gone still--he could feel her clit twinging under his touch from her comedown, and it stirred his release lower, lower, the voracious orgasm he’d been holding since yesterday now prickling again in earnest behind his hips, her little sounds coaxing him, the tightness of her unbearable around his painful hardness, her mouth still open and her head still thrown back, eyes closed at the memory of the starbursts under her eyelids, oh fuck, oh fucking god, god this is going to--this is--

Duncan’s hand came up to Kenzie’s throat as he felt the burning hot spurt of his come release into her ass, and he was groaning a wordless entreaty for her into her ear and her cheek, felt it continue on and on for what felt like an eternity, and for awhile he lost himself in her, lost himself entirely to their surroundings, and could only feel her, could only feel the flushed heat of her skin, the silky fall of her dress, could only smell the rose of her, could only hear her little moaning, aching sounds, could only imagine her, could only remember her, as if all other realities had ceased and they were drifting in darkness. He was gasping into her, clutching her, feeling as though he were on the verge of sobbing, on the edge of bursting into tears so earnest and true that perhaps, if he did, they would never cease, only continue on until he was utterly empty of tears.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby, you’re okay, fuck, baby, oh my fucking god,” Kenzie was murmuring as he brought her back down to earth, still holding her against him, his cock sliding out of her--he saw there was a little blood along the topside of his length, and he moaned into her, still holding her dress gathered in his hand, examining her backside, wincing in concern--Kenzie’s ass was deeply pink, her asshole red with worry. “Fuck, baby, are you okay? Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, it’s okay, baby,” Kenzie was leaning over the vanity, gripping a tissue, bending her arm back to press it against her ass--she brought the tissue around to gaze at it, frowning a little at the blood. “It’s okay, it’s just a little, I think it’s just chafing, god, you were so fucking hard--” with this Kenzie groaned a little, a laugh intercepting it, and she wiggled her ass at him, grinning in post-orgasmic glee. “Fuck, Duncan, I loved that. You felt so fucking good, baby, I love your thick cock fucking my ass so hard, god, being so bossy with me, I feel so fucking good now--”

Duncan gripped at her hips, his mouth coming down her cheek, lips open, and closed his eyes against her, letting his eyelashes brush on her skin--Kenzie sighed, her knees dipping her down.

“God, Kenzie, I’d been holding that orgasm for what felt like a year, fuck, you made me come so hard, angel.” He stepped back from her, gently letting go of her dress, letting it fall down her backside, covering the rawness he’d left there, thinking of his come now deep inside her--he glanced to the floor where he’d discarded the plug, then leaned and picked it up, gripping the jeweled end in his hand. Kenzie turned to him, raising her eyebrows, all residue of her tears now gone. Her face was glowing, radiant--it seemed to be cast in a golden sheen, though he could see hints of tiredness around her eyes.

“Come here, baby,” she whispered, and grasped his empty hand, leading him to the sink, turning on the faucet and running it until it was hot, lathering soap on her hands from a dispenser there, then gently pulling him closer to the edge, dipping her hands along his length. Duncan shivered, moaned with the terrible sensitivity prickling there now as she washed him gently, the ring still pushed at the base of him, his cock still partially stiff with its pressure. Duncan brought his hands down to brush against hers in the stream, rinsing her plug under the hot water, and she was lathering soap along its bulbous head too, cleaning it carefully--he turned his head to gaze at her as he touched her, as her fingers fell against his, and the loveliness of her smile as she glanced at him made him want to weep again. Duncan pulled his hands away, reluctantly, grasped a mauve-colored hand towel hanging nearby, drying his hands--Kenzie shut the water off and he passed the towel to her gently, dipping it around her plug and her hands, then she pressed the plug into his palm and took the towel, dipping her head down, bringing her fingers against the base of his cock.

“I’m going to take the ring off now, baby, okay?”

“Okay, baby.” He stood very still, lost in the golden shift of her gaze. My Persephone. Queen of roses. Too beautiful for words. Kenzie’s little fingers gripped the silicone carefully, firmly--then she pulled gently at it, and Duncan bit his lip, staving off his cry at the intensity of her touch as she slid the ring off him, finally releasing his cock from the immense pressure of it. He breathed out carefully through his mouth, then waited, hopefully, for Kenzie to do what he was thinking towards her--she smiled at him, straightening, then grasped his softening cock, dipping it back into his tight briefs, then zipping and buttoning his pants, tucking his collared shirt carefully back in place.

“There, my Prince,” she whispered. “Like nothing ever happened. None of them will ever know. Our secret to keep. Just for us.”

The golden light was all around her, the shimmer of her dress seeming to draw it in; her tawny-gold hair fell around her cheeks, barely a residue of sweat there to show the ecstasy he knew she had felt; for he’d been inside her, inside her thoughts, had felt the immensity of her release, as he knew he could now. Duncan’s fingers ran over the protruding head of the plug, carefully, hesitating, still longing for her in ways he couldn’t name.

“Kenzie, can I--can I put this back inside you, baby? I want to--I want to keep my come inside you for awhile. I want to keep our secret for awhile…” He could feel his cheeks flushing, feel the neediness in his voice, but she was smiling again, her cheeks flushing too, an obvious delight in her eyes now.

“That’s fucking sexy, baby. Yes, Prince Duncan,” and she was stepping flush against him, her mouth opening towards his face, his body bursting into deep, coursing flames from the look in her eyes. “Put it back inside me.”

Kenzie turned to look into the little mirror over the sink, gripping the edge of it, gazing at him expectantly. Do it, and let’s go back to this party. I’ll have your come held there inside me the whole time. You fucked me hard and we both came so hard and our ecstasy will bleed into the night, love--I’m yours, Duncan, my body is yours as my soul is. Just a little longer, then we can sleep in each other’s arms all night, and when the day comes, we’ll go off to the woods together to be alone and learn more of each other’s secrets. We’ll fuck under the stars, under the trees, in the long grass, among the flowers.

Duncan lowered his arm, gripping at the train and the flowing skirt of her gown, gathering them once more in his fingers, pressing them together in his fist, exposing her backside again--he whimpered at the redness still there, but there was no more blood. It must have just been chafing, like you said, baby, let me know if this hurts you and I’ll stop. Kenzie shook her head, urging him on. I’m fine, baby, put it inside me where it belongs. Duncan could see a vague residue around the pucker of her asshole, the cloudy white of his come dripping out of her--with a twinge of need he thought no, that stays inside her, I want it inside her, and he brought the plug up to the dampness gathering there, holding the gathers of her dress steady in his grip, and then he pushed it back inside her--Kenzie gasped a little, gripping the sink, but was nodding--”yes, Dunny, yes,” and then it was back inside her, the jewel winking up at him, and he let go of her skirts, leaned down to where he panties had been discarded and kneeled to her.

Kenzie turned to him, bringing her hands down to his shoulders, and he pushed the skirts aside, exposing her golden platform heels--Kenzie held onto him as she stepped into her panties and Duncan pulled them up her slender calves and curvy, feminine thighs under the dress, pressing his chin into her stomach as he fixed the waistband on her hips. There. All done. He lingered there for a moment, staring up at her--her hands came to his cheek, fingers drifting at his stubble, and into his hair, her touch infinitely gentle, and her smile was serene, utterly contented. In its cocoon he knew he was loved--loved with such intensely earnest, complete love that he felt tears seeping back into the corners of his eyes.

“I’m ready to go back, baby,” Kenzie said, and he stood, nodding, dipping his fingers at his eyes, wiping the threat of tears away. She leaned up to kiss him; he brought his face down to her, his hand twining around her fingers, imagining the golden-blue thread he’d seen as he ran to where he saw the golden sphere that was her, his lips shivering against her. “Kenzie, I love you,” he whispered. Kenzie didn’t speak, and she didn’t need to--he knew what she was saying in her mind, in the golden bursts around her heart, the radiance in her eyes, the roses in her hair. And I love you. Now, long ago, and forever.

Kenzie went to the sink where they’d left his silicone ring, grasping it and placing it inside her golden clutch, snapping the opening closed. As they walked out of the bathroom, Duncan glanced back at it, at its glow of light now diminished by her absence--just a regular bathroom now, he thought. The golden glow was all her. Everything is her. He flipped the light switch, bathing the powder room in darkness, and Kenzie was the one who pulled him back to the Gala, through the room that was once his playroom, the gold and diamond of the bracelets at their wrists glinting, their hands tightly clasped in the shadows.

------

A few minutes later Kenzie was ordering a glass of chardonnay from the bartender near the tables Duncan had glimpsed earlier, drinking it in one fell swoop that made Duncan laugh, and immediately asking for another. The bartender, a tall, handsome man with henna-colored skin in a saffron-yellow Oxford shirt and a silk gold tie, had raised his eyebrows at her and poured her another, this one full to the brim.

“Duckenzie forever,” he said, and pushed it toward her, his smile shy. Duncan and Kenzie had looked at each other in disbelief, both laughing a little. “Seriously, though, you two are like--you are glowing,” the bartender continued. “Thanks for coming over here. I can’t drink tonight, but now I feel drunk. Love your Instagrams.” Duncan had ordered an old-fashioned (like that first night, Kenzie had thought, and Kenzie had smiled at him), and Kenzie had thanked the man sweetly, her cheeks flushed with the wine now. Duncan slipped a $100 bill into his tip jar. God, I feel so good now, he thought. Time to spread that around. They’d run into Erik and Momby, sitting together on a low couch in a side-parlor, laughing with each other in uproarious delight, Momby telling him a story about a time she’d fallen into a pool with a full tray of tropical cocktails during a brief waitressing stint in the Bahamas in her early 20’s. Madeline had gripped Kenzie’s hand, looking into her face as Kenzie settled down onto the armrest beside her mother--when she saw the serene happiness there, she nodded and let go. Whatever had happened before, all was right now. Madeline had looked into Duncan’s eyes, and he’d nodded to her, smiling.

“That smile,” Momby had tsked, and Erik dipped his chin into a perfectly-manicured hand, looking on at all of them, grinning, his eyes now hazy with drunkenness. “With that smile you could stab me in the heart and I’d thank you.”

Kenzie’s gaze had dipped above them, her eyes intent on yet another mural printed for the Gala along the white wall behind them. ”I’ve never seen this one before,” Kenzie murmured, reaching for Duncan’s hand, pulling him close. My pretty baby. My Kenzie. “What’s it called?” The painting depicted on the laser-printed mural was a golden-haired maiden, completely naked, her back turned down, the angle from heaven above, riding on a midnight-blue stallion with huge wings--below them were scattered clouds of night and a landscape spread with some ancient monument. “It’s so lovely.”

“It’s called Dream Idyll,” Duncan murmured to her, his eyes on her face. He could feel Madeline and Erik watching them. “It’s by Edward Robert Hughes. It looks like you.” Kenzie snorted at him. “Yep, there’s me, in my birthday suit. I do wish I had a flying horse, though.”

“You’ll have horses soon enough, Princess Kenzie.”

“Oh, she will, will she?” Madeline smiled at him, intrigued.

Duncan and Kenzie looked at each other. Momby knows about you taking over the company, but I don’t think Erik knows, does he? Kenzie thought to him. Duncan shook his head.

“It’s a secret, is it?” Erik cooed, taking a sip of the vodka tonic in his hand.

“For now, yeah, I think so,” Duncan replied. “We’re still figuring it out.”

“I’m sure you two have lots of secrets you haven’t told anyone,” Erik went on, batting his long rhinestoned eyelashes. “I’m sure you have delicious, delightful secrets. Just look at you. A darkly handsome prince and a radiant golden princess. Duncan, you’ve opened like a flower now that you have this angel in your life. I just adore you two. You’re like two stars that fell out of the sky. I’d claw someone’s eyes out to hear what it’s like in the bedroom.”

Duncan rolled his eyes at the last bit, but saw Kenzie smile into her hand. Madeline was laughing into her glass of red wine, her snort causing a film of bubbles on its surface. Like mother, like daughter.

“Baby, let’s get some air,” he murmured down into Kenzie’s ear, and she let him help her up, left her train to fan out behind her. He waved a little to Madeline and Erik. “We’ll see you later on, maybe?”

“I think I’m getting all partied out,” Madeline replied. “I’m a crusty old witch and I’ve successfully managed to avoid Annette tonight. I’d like to keep it that way. Duncan, can I enlist your help to get that wonderful man to drive me home?”

“Of course, Madeline,” Duncan pulled his phone out of his pocket as Kenzie’s hand clutched around the crook of his arm, her head resting against the velvet arm of his blazer. He sent a text out to Samuel; Samuel, as usual, replied almost immediately. The best. “He says he’ll be waiting on the curb in two minutes, Ms. Stone.”

Madeline crowed, delighted, drinking off the rest of her wine. “Erik, darling, wanna come kick it at my house like two broken down old hags?”

“Speak for yourself, honey,” Erik replied, but he was smiling. “However--I’d love to. Annette’s usual gang of social frou-frous, alas, leaves me dry as a bone these days. Let’s break out the tequila and talk about old flings all night. My darling angelic moon babies in love--adieu.” Erik extended a hand towards Duncan and Kenzie, and Kenzie’s radiant smile to him lit a fire under Duncan’s heart. Your crown of flowers on our wedding day, a crown for the goddess of spring, he thought, his mind drifting. I wonder what your dress will look like. It doesn’t matter what you wear, though. You always look like a fucking angel. Kenzie was turning back to kiss her mother’s cheek--Duncan went to Madeline too, and kissed the opposite one. Madeline laughed, pursing her lips and looking heavenward.

“I do believe, my dear Madeline, that it doesn’t get much better than that,” Erik raised his drink to them with finality.

“Did you know Duncan wants to commission a painting of us, Momby,” Kenzie was murmuring down her to her mother, her face bathed in the low mood lights of the room, the blue cast of the mural above her reflecting on her gold-rose hair as Duncan watched her. “How romantic is that?”

“My dearest Mackenzie,” her mother clasped her hand, stared at her over the rim of her squarish black-rimmed glasses. “You suddenly find yourself immersed in a fairy tale, and my advice to you is, enjoy every moment of it. Bask in it. Drink it down like it’s wine.”

“Kenzie and I going away for a few days, Madeline,” Duncan said, eyeing Madeline, watching for disapproval warily. “We have a cabin by a lake in rural Maryland--we’re trying to keep the trip discreet. We’ll have our phones, but...we’d like to go off the grid for a few days, so we won’t be checking them regularly. I need to get away from Annette for a few days--”

“We both do,” Kenzie murmured. “Momby, we need to get away from...everything.”

“I understand, Kenzie Lou.” Madeline’s face was serious, but calm, sobering up for them. “You don’t need to explain. Just call me when you get back, okay? We can invite Claire and make tacos and margaritas. You too, baby,” Madeline said, turning to Erik, who fluttered his eyelashes at her.

“Thank you, Madeline.” Duncan’s heart felt tight again, words insufficient for his gratitude.

“Duncan. Don’t forget what I said to you last night, sweetpea. I love you very much, and your worth is not in your name, nor with your wealth, but what you do with it. I’ll see you soon.” Madeline’s hand came up against his cheek, and Duncan’s heart clenched. Kenzie, you were blessed with the most wonderful of mothers. It’s no wonder you are so divine. Demeter, who went to Zeus himself to have her daughter Persephone back--who made the earth barren with her loss. A mother who would do anything for her daughter--like Madeline Stone. What a fucking woman.

Kenzie kissed her mother’s cheek again, whispered “I love you to the moon and back, Momby,” and rose with Duncan, blowing kisses behind her to both Madeline and Erik. Divine, Duncan thought, her hand in the crook of his arm. Divine kisses, floating across the room like shooting stars.

------

Ten minutes later they were on the south side of the house, on the back-facing patio balcony of Annette Shepherd’s Colonial mansion. There were serving people dressed as various Pre-Raphaelite muses passing around hors d'oeuvres here (the Lady of Shalott walked up to them in long white robes and an auburn wig, holding a tray of mushroom tartlets which she held out to them--she blushed, clearly recognizing them, and Duncan thanked her, taking two and handing one to Kenzie, who ate it in one bite as she smiled at the woman--who then drifted away from them with some reluctance), and there were scores of guests in the balmy night air, milling around with drinks, winding down from the speeches for the Foundation--we were fucking in the bathroom during that, Duncan thought, relieved. I’m sure Annette tried to find me, and thankfully, she failed.

Neither Annette nor Bill were anywhere to be seen here, either. Or Marissa Montague. Or Gretchen Friedrichs. It’s like the night calmed for us, like the moon (still hovering above them, a white peach of delectable enchantment) ushered them all away--like it’s looking after us, my Kenzie and me. Down a set of marble steps was a decorative walking garden with stone pathways surrounded by creeping thyme and irish moss, with a four-tier fountain in the center, in tandem with Annette’s modern sensibilities. Some of the guests (most of which Duncan recognized--a veritable who’s-who of politicians and notables from every artistic field he could think of) seemed to notice them, but somehow no one approached them--Duncan doubted it was shyness. It seemed to be something else, almost like a force-field around them, protecting them from too much attention. Whatever. I’ll take it. As long as people leave us alone.

Along the sides of the French doors that had led them outside were two more huge murals, covering the windows on this side of the mansion, each one with the Shepherd Unlimited logo along the top and the same Gala text as the banners at the entrance--on one side was Robert-Hughes’ wistful Day, a circle of flowers in her red hair, and on the other, his more serene Night, sometimes called Star of Heaven--her hair full of starbursts, like flares of blue and white flame. Kenzie had turned, taking little sips of chardonnay, to gaze up at them, and he saw the adoring admiration in her eyes. He stared at her, drifting a hand against the wall, leaning there, caught up in her--golden princess from the stars. Protecting me, healing me, healing others. Who knows what else she can do. I feel acutely that we’re just beginning to find out what she’s capable of...and what I’m capable of, for that matter. He thought of the plug still inside her, holding his release there, and shivered. Mine. My golden angel.

Eventually, Kenzie noticed him staring.

“Don’t tell me, they look like me,” she rolled her eyes at him, making a face, and he laughed a little, sipping his bourbon. Bourbon will always remind me of the first night--though I’ll never forget it anyway. He leaned back on the Day mural, his head beginning to feel hazy--he’d barely had any of the bourbon, but he felt weak with his post-orgasm, with the stresses of this damn Gala--Marissa, Gretchen, Kenzie’s disappearance, the strangeness of what had happened to him near the water table. And with the stresses of yesterday--the shaking certainty in me that I was nothing and no one anymore. I don’t feel that way now; but the fear was enough to exhaust my soul. It was enough to make me long to escape with her.

He hesitated--he could tell Kenzie knew he was thinking, and she regarded him, patiently. “It looks like she’s whispering in your ear,” she said, twining a golden hair around her finger, the Cartier bracelet’s diamonds glittering on her wrist, the smooth incline of her leg dipping beautifully from the slit in the dress, and then Kenzie was opening her clutch and pulling her phone out, snapping a photo of him. He smiled at her, unbothered, pressing affection out towards her. She walked casually to the other wall where Star of Heaven was spread, smiling down at her phone, typing a caption on the photo, posting it. He turned toward her as the two men he’d seen smoking earlier came through the French doors--oddly, they ignored Duncan and Kenzie, as if they didn’t see them. Kenzie didn’t seem to notice, but looked up a moment later from her phone at him. Duncan moved past the doors to her, leaving his bourbon glass on a nearby cart, hands coming down to her waist, pressing her back into the mural of the serene woman with a crown of stars.

“I wish I could give you a crown of stars like that,” Duncan whispered, his eyes drifting up the mural, then back down into hers. The moon was right above them now--it stared down on him, quietly listening to them, watching them, watching over us. Moon children in love. Kenzie held her wine glass up to her lips, her eyes staring back at him mischievously over the rim, and he stepped back, lifting his own phone to steal a picture of her, her eyes drifting to the side to look at the huge face beside her. Star of heaven @kenzielouwho. He saw the one she’d posted of him come up right after it on his feed--Night breezes seem to whisper I love you @duncanshepherd.

“Kenzie,” he said, tucking his phone away. “Something happened when I went to get you the water. Something...strange. Really strange.”

Kenzie looked at him then with contemplation, and he knew deeply that she had something of her own to tell him--something she hadn’t told him before. She set her wine glass at her feet as he continued.

“I ran into Gretchen Friedrichs, and she cornered me, was trying to blackmail me--the usual with her--and I knew I needed to get to the water, and she was blocking it. I was crazy with it for a minute, with frustration, then suddenly, I was there, I was at the water table. But I hadn’t moved. I had...I dunno. I teleported to the fucking water table. Somehow. I moved--through--I don’t know. Time. Space. I moved without moving.”

“Dunny,” Kenzie said, and her voice was very small, her hands reaching up to the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close. “Yesterday, I--I could feel your sadness and your pain. I mean, I don’t mean I suspected it--I mean I felt it. I felt the depth of it. It pressed down onto me and I felt what you were feeling. It was like I was inside you. It was when I was still at work, and the feeling continued all the way home; I think it made me fall asleep, it was so strong, so powerful, like a wave, overwhelming me. I knew it was you, and I knew you were heartbroken. I felt what you were feeling from miles away. I don’t know how. But I did. And what I did tonight--”

“Kenzie, what’s happening to us? What are we?” Duncan stared down into her eyes and saw the memory of those whirling golden galaxies from his dream of her (as an angel--with imperceptible wings) and saw her own hazel eyes too, and was dizzy with the vision of both. “What do the dreams mean? When you disappeared, I was so afraid--fuck, I forgot to even try to call you or text you, I was freaking out so much, wondering where you’d gone--then I concentrated and I felt you. You were like a ball of light inside my mind. I followed the feeling of you to where you were, I imagined there was a thread between us, made of gold--and then I found you. My feet led me to the powder room, and there you were. Like you’d been calling for me and I heard your voice.”

“I--I don’t know--it’s something about us finding each other, that’s what I think, that’s what I keep coming back to,” and Kenzie’s fingers were brushing over his intricate gold collar, down his velvet arms, finding his hands, holding them against the bare skin above her structured bodice. “I think when we met it was like...a door flew open. An invisible door, one that had been shut, and when it opened, so many other things poured into us, not just each other, not just this incredible love--” and Duncan stopped her mouth with his, his need to kiss her too great, her mouth too beautiful in the moonlight, her hair too soft and rose-laden to not have his hands in it anymore, the gold of her too ethereal, and she gasped into his kiss, and he clutched her, leaning down to her exquisite, moon-like face, the dark mulberry stain of her lips all but kissed away by his ardency tonight, leaving them bruised and pink, and he crushed himself into them again, his body rocking against hers with deep fatigue and a desire to sleep with her, sleep forever under a full, benevolent moon.

“Let’s go,” he whispered between their kisses, his hands urging her against him. “Let’s go home. I’m tired, baby. I want you alone. None of this matters. Only you.” Kenzie was nodding into him, her face flooding with visible relief, and Duncan was remembering her run in with his uncle tonight--I’ve always suspected that Bill hates me, so I’m not surprised he hates anyone I care about, too. I think deep down Bill has always been suspicious that we don’t share the same goals for Shepherd Unlimited--that one day, I’d take it from him and make it into what he is fearful of. Something GOOD. Well, Bill, you’re right. Your fears were all founded. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. And I found a goddess to help me.

Duncan was gripping Kenzie’s hand and pulling her back through the mansion--Samuel had likely already left with Madeline and Erik, but he was sober enough anyway, and he knew what to do. Annette had a garage under the mansion with twenty cars--and they were going to take one of them home tonight, then to Deep Creek Lake tomorrow. No one would be coming with them, not Samuel, not Harris, no one. The prospect sent a burst of excitement through him, pushing his fatigue away; alone with you in the beauty of nature. And I’ve been away from it for so long. You’re going to love the cabin so much, baby. Knowing you now, I feel like it was created just for you. You’ll see what I mean. It’s like its own little world.

Duncan was clutching Kenzie’s train carefully in one hand and her fingers in the other, leading her down the hall with a pointed, swift stride, around the array of important guests who seemed to be noticing them again, judging from the long stares. Duckenzie Duckenzie Duckenzie the son of Annette Shepherd with the daughter of Madeline Stone who would ever think such a thing how absurd look how beautiful they are wow look at them look look look. Fuck, he thought, now I can hear everyone else’s thoughts, too? Or maybe just right now? Or maybe I’m imagining it? God, it’s all too much. Right now we just need to get away from all of this.

He was about to turn down a side-hall that was mostly deserted towards the center of the mansion, the one he knew led to Annette’s impressive private library, and from there a secret passage behind one of the bookcases that led to the basement garage, but he stopped, his heart slamming up against his ribs. Annette and Bill were at the end of it, conversing with Senator Howell. Fuck. No.

He glanced with alarm at Kenzie, who was balking and stepping back, her eyes slitted at Bill, who does indeed look very ill, Duncan noted, seeing his uncle’s deeply gray pallor, the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Bill looks like he’s about to fall into his grave, in fact. Annette seemed to have noticed as well, because she was staring with deep concern at her brother, and hadn’t noticed them yet. Mom, you look so beautiful tonight, Duncan noted, his heart now in his mouth. My mother, and yet, not my mother. The soft fall of her hair in its gathers around the nape of her neck, the pearls at her throat, the glowing, pollen-patterned yellow satin dress she wore. Duncan noted the deep sadness that lingered on her face tonight--her brother is dying, and her son won’t talk to her. But mom, it’s not as simple as that, and you know it. You had to know this day would come. You had to know eventually I’d find out. How could you keep it from me for so long? It would have been easier if you’d told me long ago. But perhaps you really couldn’t bear to admit it after a certain point. Maybe it really was love that convinced you to keep it secret--or maybe it was just your own need to be loved.

And he knew when they got back from the woods, when they came home from the secluded place where they’d go to find out each other’s secrets--because he knew that would happen while they were away, I feel it, in my heart, in my soul, I know we are going to discover something about ourselves there, I know it, baby, I know it absolutely, and he knew Kenzie heard his thought--that he’d speak with Annette and Bill, and it would be wrenching for him, but that it would happen and it must happen, and only then would the future move into the present and the wheel continue to turn them to their Fate.

But not yet. Come on baby, this way. I know another way. And he and Kenzie slipped away from the line of sight of Annette and Bill Shepherd. Duncan was struck with a realization a few seconds later; he knew that Annette had looked down the hall the moment they slipped away, had thought maybe she’d seen a corner of Kenzie’s golden gown from the corner of her eye, but that when she’d turned her head, no one had been there. And Annette’s heart was full of sorrow--full of her own regret, the sting of her own faults and her mistakes. Like Kenzie feeling my sadness last night, over miles--I think I can feel how my mother feels right now. Just a little. Enough to know that her sorrow is genuine, and her remorse absolute. Oh, Mom.

They’d turned down another hall--this one seemed to be a service hall, several of the serving people in their Pre-Raphaelite costumes moving along it back and forth, some with empty trays, some with trays fresh hors d'oeuvres moving back out to the main hall. Duncan pulled Kenzie along it--several of the service people gave them puzzled looks, but said nothing; they obviously recognized him (or us: Duckenzie Duckenzie Duckenzie). Duncan Shepherd can do what he likes in his mother’s house, I guess, Duncan heard the drifting thought from a tall, handsome man with a laurel wreath in his hair and a red-russet robe over his shoulder, akin to Narcissus in Waterhouse’s painting. Duncan opened a side-door, and this led to a quiet room that seemed to be a service lounge, currently only occupied by a tired-looking woman in a white veil and a cobalt-blue period dress. She glanced up, disinterested at first, then shock fell over her face as she saw them moving through the room.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, and Duncan saw Kenzie looking at the woman with a shy smile. “Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, oh my goooooood. Wow, wow, wow.” She sat up and her fists came up to her chin, clutching at her face as though to hold her head up. “You’re even more beautiful in person than I imagined.”

“We have to go, but thank you, sweetness,” Kenzie was whispering to her, and blew her a kiss as Duncan opened a door at the other end of the room, urging her through it gently. The girl blushed deeply, her mouth falling open, her eyes glowing at them.

Then the door swung shut behind them and they were in Annette’s library. Blessedly, deserted. The library was tucked near the center of the mansion’s floor plan, therefore often not discovered by those who weren’t familiar with its vast layout--but Duncan had spent most of his childhood after he’d learned to read in this room, and knew it like the back of his hand. The mansion would be his someday, and Duncan knew he’d keep it for one reason and one reason alone--this room. The fixtures were all brass, the six embossed electric chandeliers with eight flower-shaped bulbs apiece flaring into low light as he flipped the panel of switches by the door, and the wood paneling was cherry-russet oak, deeply pleasant to look at, warm and comforting. There was a huge fireplace along one wall, the kind of fireplace Duncan always imagined a king would have in a great-hall, and books stretched along every wall--so many books that he knew, as he’d known as a child, gratefully, that he’d never get a chance to read them all. Too many, and so, I’ll always have a new one to discover. Kenzie was gasping quietly at his side.

“Ohhh, Dunny. This is so fucking beautiful.” There was a second floor above them, too, with gilded metal railings, and the wood floors had dark-colored Persian rugs to muffle the sound of footsteps--to preserve the ever-hallowed quiet of a library. Duncan eyed the corner where the impressive Bosendorfer Imperial sat--he knew pressing the black C sharp key would unlock the door behind the bookcase there, but he hesitated, then went to a bookcase towards the back of the shelf lining the wall to his right, pulling Kenzie gently with him.

“Come here, baby, I wanna show you something.”

He went to a familiar corner (so familiar, with its rows and rows of mythology books), eyes drifting along the shelves--then they fell on what he was looking for. Duncan pulled the book down, its hardback edges fraying from use, its familiar golden cover immediately conjuring pleasant memories of him reading alone for hours, gazing raptly at the illustrations, hiding from the world. D’aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. On its cover was Helios, the sun, driving his white stallions in a chariot of fire. Duncan flipped the book open, Kenzie staring through the crook under his arm now where she’d slipped, sweetly and quietly, and it fell open to an illustration of Persephone in a golden field of flowers, racing into the arms of her mother.

“This one really does sort of look like me,” Kenzie whispered up to him, her eyes stirring the love up from the center of him. He pulled her closer, her little arms dipping around his waist.

“I used to look at this book for hours and hours,” he murmured, turning the pages, washes of familiarity falling over him, the pleasant memories of cold winter evenings and hot summer days, hiding here in the warmth and the cool shadows. “You can practically see the stains from my fingers on it. I didn’t have any friends, so books were my friends.”

“Let’s bring it with us,” Kenzie whispered. “I want to look at it when we’re at the cabin. I wanna touch it and feel you in its pages.”

Duncan nodded to her, closing it carefully, bringing his lips down to her temple. Kenzie turned her head and pulled him down to her, fingers running down his stubble, kissing him deeply for one long, beautiful, extended moment. I felt you, feeling Annette’s pain. Needing your own time to heal doesn’t make you a cruel person, baby. Everything in its time. He clutched her, his love for her overwhelming and all-consuming--then their kiss broke apart, and Duncan was struck again by his need to be home, alone with her.

“Over here, Kenz, watch this.” Duncan led her over to the impressive Bosendorfer, its matte black surface polished to a high sheen, pressing the black key in the center of the piano. He heard the telltale click of the bookcase directly ahead of them dipping out--it was appropriately covered in tomes of gothic literature (Poe, the Brontes, The Mysteries of Udolpho, Dracula). Kenzie gasped in delight, clutching the book against her golden breast, her mouth falling open.

“Oh my god, Duncan, that is the greatest thing ever.”

“It leads to the underground garage. We’re gonna take one of the cars home tonight. That way we can take it to the lake tomorrow, and we won’t have to worry about anyone or anything. We can stay as long as we want and come back when we feel ready.”

Kenzie pressed against him, the crown of her gold hair falling against his chin, her body sighing with approval. Duncan’s arms came around her, clutching her tight, drinking in the rosy smell of her, the soft flowery scent of her shampoo and the product Hannah had put in it--like a sunlit shoreline, he thought. At any other time in my life I’d be utterly devastated by yesterday, destroyed by it. But how can I be sad when you’re in my arms, Mackenzie Stone? To love you is to be at peace, no matter what rages around us. The world could be falling down and still I’d be calm in your embrace. Duncan felt acutely that a page was turning now--the page was this evening, this Gala, this night, its glittering superficiality, its chaos, its energy intent on disturbing their peace, their love, their happiness--but it hadn’t succeeded, it had only made him more determined than ever to cherish this wondrous love he’d found, a love that was kindling at every moment the desire in him to be better, be gentler for her, be more forgiving, more intent on loving her in every moment.

They broke apart, and Kenzie was flitting ahead of him (on her fast little feet in those golden heels), pulling carefully at the bookcase and peering behind it, glancing back at him with exuberant eyes, her mouth open in an expression of glee. There was an elevator there, waiting open with silent repose, and Duncan stepped through to it, pulling Kenzie along with him, hitting a round gold button with a plaque beside it that read GARAGE. The elevator’s doors slid shut, silently, a low-toned bell sounding, and then the elevator drifted down. When it opened a moment later, Duncan saw the familiar expanse of the private garage in quiet, clean monochrome--a security guard with a shiny black bald head sat sleepily on a swivel desk chair in a nearby booth surrounded in plexiglass, and his head came up with a jerk at the elevator’s bell.

“Mr. Shepherd, I didn’t know you needed a car tonight, they didn’t tell me--” he started, going to stand.

“It’s fine, Henry, right? Not a big deal. I let Miss Stone’s mother take my private car home, and I barely had anything to drink, so we thought we’d take ourselves home tonight.”

“Sure, Mr. Shepherd, sure. Yeah, Henry. Any particular kind of car?”

“The G-Class, I think. We’re going to use it for a few days...to do some sightseeing.”

“Oh, man, I love that car, drives like a dream. Sure thing, Mr. Shepherd.” Henry was turning to a rack of keys behind him, pulling down a smart key that was mounted on a wall-set charger there--he pushed open the sliding door of the plexiglass booth and held it out to them. Duncan took it, holding down a button on the front of the smart key, speaking into it. The pad read I’M LISTENING.

“Come to me.”

Duncan watched Kenzie’s rapt face with delight as a black SUV with sharp lines backed out of a nearby spot from a low row of other black cars of different makes and models, straightened itself, and drove towards them with slow, creeping speed.

“Holy shit,” Kenzie whispered. “The car can drive itself.”

“Well, y’all can drive it too,” Henry laughed at her, and Duncan noticed the guard’s eyes falling up and down Kenzie’s golden dress and her tawny hair, admiringly. An angel, I know.

“Thanks, Henry.”

“Sure thing, boss. Y’all have a good night. I’ll log that you’re using it.”

Duncan nodded, reaching down to Kenzie’s hand, carefully still holding her train. Keep the truth of my adoption from me for 30 years, Mom, I think I can borrow a car from you. Annette would find out later that he’d taken a car, he was sure, but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about her reaction. He led Kenzie to the passenger side of the SUV and helped in her in, lifting her up gently, tucking the train around her. Kenzie was gazing into the leather interior of the dashboard, her eyes gleaming, her fingers white around her golden clutch. Duncan ran around to the other side, anxious at the thought of Annette catching them before they had a chance to escape, but then, slipping into the driver’s seat, his heart calmed as he gripped the steering wheel and he pressed the smart key again, hearing the biturbo engine roar into life. No, he felt certain. We’ll get away without a hitch. The Fates have written it, I can feel it.

He reached across the middle of the seats, and Kenzie grasped his hand on her lap over the book she still held in safekeeping, her fingers wonderfully warm, the diamonds at her wrist glittering. The Gala’s over, she thought to him, deep relief in the golden drift of her mind. I can’t wait to share these next few days with you. I feel like the greatest secrets are about to revealed to us. And I’m not afraid, baby. With you, all my fear melts away. I can see my destiny inside your eyes.

As I see mine in yours, he thought to her, and put his foot on the gas, drifting his hand out of hers and onto the steering wheel, pulling the car around to the exit tunnel that spread out from the other end of the garage--as they climbed up to ground level, Kenzie switched on the Sirius XM radio, turning the knob to a channel called BPM. Upbeat electronic floated into the car as the neon lights of the tunnel fell over Kenzie’s cheeks in gold and blue--we get it almost every night, when that moon is big and bright, it’s a supernatural delight, everybody’s dancing in the moonlight…

Kenzie began to sway back and forth in her seat, moving to the music, shifting her shoulders and tossing her rosy hair with aching loveliness that made Duncan’s heart feel as though it would leap out of his body, his head suddenly hazy with her. Her lovely voice washed over him as she sang along, her eyes glittering on him, her thoughts in the shape of golden kisses against him as he drove into the night, the moon still high above them, huge and round like some otherworldly fruit in the clear, starry sky.

“Dancin’ in the moonlight, everybody’s feelin’ warm and bright, it’s such a fine and natural sight, everybody’s dancin’ in the moonlight…”

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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BODY AND SOUL Part 19 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: At 49 pages this part is decidedly the MOST EXTRA OF THEM ALL thus far, though I suspect the Gala chapter(s?) will be even longer. I’ve realized the duality of the chapters has made it so I have to cram everything I want to be from one of their perspectives into any given part, but, like, who cares, right? I’M AN AMERICAN AND MORE IS BETTER! I thought of Pilar as Ecuadorian from the outset, the Virgen di Quito is a local deity related to the Virgin Mary--I don’t think she has an effigy at the Basilica, but I stretched reality a little bit there; she reminded me of Billie somehow, and I like comparing Kenzie to feminine deities--she has that vibe to people. Here’s the version of CRYSTAL Samuel is playing on their way home; one of my favorite love songs ever, and my favorite of the various versions ‘Mac has recorded over the years. Agent Provocateur boxes are very distinct and look like this. The hanging lights in Duncan’s bathroom look like this. Here’s Kenzie shampoo (I use their hair holding spray, their stuff smells AMAZING). I found Kenzie’s peony glass! She has the other ones too, the peony one just happened to be the one she grasped first that day at her apartment, and now Duncan is wildly attached to it. Had to include some avocados in this part as a nod to Cody’s avocado obsession. Here’s Duncan’s Keurig. Adelaide’s silver tray looks like this, her little bowls with dogberries look like this. THE ECSTASY OF ST. THERESA is a sculpture I’ve loved for a long time. ARIADNE is also listed as being owned by a private collector, and as Bacchus/Dionysus’ wife, it seemed only fitting to me that Duncan would desire it as a gift for Kenzie, a companion piece to THE YOUTH OF BACCHUS, as it were. Duncan remembering Marissa Montague (my Madison/Emma AU) laying there like lead, checking her phone while he tried to kiss her is an homage to Emma’s character Chanel Oberlin in SCREAM QUEENS doing that exact thing--Marissa is indeed asexual in my AU, though she would never admit that publicly, and she has no real interest in sex, only in money and fame, thus her lingering interest in Duncan--she will indeed be at the Gala, and she will indeed try to corner Kenzie. Claire’s dog Snicky/Snickerdoodle looks like this, we’ll meet him eventually. The photo of Kenzie on Claire’s shoulders is based on a real one of Billie and Leslie here and the caption I put on it mirrors Leslie’s. Kenzie’s story about volunteering for a woman who did horse therapy for kids is based on me doing that exact thing in high school, and Kenzie’s dream of having a garden house with room for horses is my dream (I, like her, miss being around horses terribly).��A reminder that this is the sleeping set, this is the white tulle lingerie, and this is the rose choker (ugh, I want it). If you’re a person with a vagina and you’ve never used one of these (the kind Kenzie--and I--have), y’all...I can’t recommend that shit highly enough--Diah ( @impiorumrequies ), Kenzie keeping her vibrator in a fake copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray is for you, lol. Here’s Duncan’s balmorals, his chinos, his shirt, his sunglasses. I’m glad I could finally put some sexting in this chapter, that stuff was fun. Here’s the dress Annette’s wearing when Duncan disses her. Here’s Kenzie’s crop top, here’s her skirt. The peonies look like this (but Kenzie’s are real, of course). Here’s the gold vases. Here’s Duncan’s Waterford wine glasses (god, I love those). His kanso knives. His wok. It was important to me that Duncan had taught himself to cook, and to cook WELL, anxious to be independent from Annette--I said this before but men who can’t are a turnoff, being useless isn’t hot, it’s stupid and annoying. Here’s the recipe for the quinoa fried “rice”. Here’s the tutorial I based Duncan’s dumplings on. I had Kenzie choose Bowie’s LET’S DANCE while they made dinner as I’ve always found Bowie to be an aphrodisiac (and TMI lmao but I’ve had sex to that album and...it was great)--Kenzie’s singing along to MODERN LOVE, the first track. Regarding the sex, it was very important for me to strike the delicate balance between sexual domination and Kenzie’s autonomy--please note how Duncan consistently checks in with her throughout the entire thing, following directions, and paying attention to her reactions and needs. It’s deeply important to me that all of the sexuality in this story is centered around the deep, true love they feel for each other, grounded in personhood, autonomy, and mutual respect, and it’s important to me that you, my beloved readers, understand that too. Thanks--as always--for reading. Thank you for your love for them and your affection towards me.

Duncan kissed Kenzie’s cheek gently from where she was sleeping against him in the plane seat, breathing in the saltiness of the sea still in her hair, the sweetness of her skin; she stirred a little, a tiny moaning sigh falling from her lips, but she didn’t wake. Pat had landed the plane a few minutes before; Pilar had already opened the plug door and was handing bags to someone beyond his eyesight (maybe Samuel), but Duncan continued to watch Kenzie’s serene face, looking down at the half-halos of her eyelashes, the aureate crown of her hair. Back to reality tomorrow, back into the jaws of the paps and my mother and the world outside. Wish we could just stay here and I could watch her sleep, deep into the night. Duncan felt tired himself; tired at the prospect of the week to come more than anything, the responsibility of it pressing into his psyche. Meetings all day tomorrow, interviews on Tuesday and Wednesday, an audience with the President on Thursday, the Gala on Friday. And our getaway in the woods still so far off.

Kenzie felt so small and delicate under his arm; Duncan wondered vaguely if he could carry her into the car without waking her, but as he unbuckled her seatbelt and tried to carefully pull her under his grasp, her eyes fluttered open and she leaned forward, hand coming against her cheek as if to wipe away an imaginary tear.

“Baby, we’re back in DC. It’s time to go home. Did you have another dream?” Duncan let his hands fall against her knees, studying the confusion in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Kenzie breathed in a tiny voice, eyes falling down, falling on her beach bag, which she scooped up with a sleepy hand. “I was in a bathtub this time. I was fully clothed, in a bathtub...I was sobbing with blood running down from my eyes, and Candice was holding my face and speaking softly into my ear as I cried and screamed--I knew someone was going to die but I couldn’t stop it, I had to stay with her, I had to let them die. God, these dreams don’t make any fucking sense, baby. I hate them. Why was I in a bathtub?”

“Maybe we really should go see a clairvoyant or something.” Duncan stood, reaching for her hand. Kenzie gripped it and stood herself, swaying a little, still half-asleep. He pulled her gently down the aisle, her beach hat in his hand, his body full of tenderness, wishing he could have carried her to the car in his arms. Kenzie yawned rather than answering--he watched her and wanted to hug her against him. He thought suddenly of the man who had gotten into the Post building and almost hurt her. My poor baby, and she has to go back there tomorrow. She should take a day or two off. I wonder if I could convince her.

They reached Pilar; it had been Samuel she’d been handing bags to, and now he was taking the beach blanket, the last thing left. He smiled at them, his very white teeth flashing in his dark face. “Kissed by the sun today, I see.”

“It was a perfect day,” Kenzie murmured, and Duncan watched her face again, her eyes low and tired, her expression sleepy and nostalgic. “Thank you for moving our bags, Samuel. And thank you for the drinks, Pilar. I love you both very much.”

Pilar and Samuel both laughed a little, and Duncan grinned at them. Isn’t she an angel. I think so too. She’s so kind and lovely to everyone. She’s the one I love most in the world.

Samuel turned back to the steps with the blanket clutched under his arm as Pilar turned to Kenzie and grasped her little hand, smiling down at her. “It was a pleasure for me to make them for you, preciosa. Your aura...is very powerful. Like La Virgen de Quito. I used to look at her image in the Basilica del Voto Nacional when I was a girl, used to pray to her that she’d find me a beautiful boy to love.” She laughed a little, then her face grew serious again. “I wanted to say that...you remind me of her, mami. It was my honor to meet you today.”

Kenzie’s expression had become a bit more alert at Pilar’s words; suddenly, she leaned forward and put her arms around the older woman, and Duncan could see the shock on Pilar’s face--then a warm, serene expression came into her eyes, and she closed them and brought her arms around Kenzie’s small body and held her for a moment before they broke apart. Duncan’s heart felt heavy with emotion, watching them--he couldn’t help but feel as though Kenzie had blessed Pilar somehow with this action, as if she were a healer touching someone who was sick, or a mother touching a child, though Pilar was the one who was older and more motherly. To be near her is to be blessed. To be held by Kenzie is to be touched by her gold. I know that because I’ve felt it too--I’ve been blessed by her again and again and my heart is so full of her light I have to share it, I can’t keep it all to myself. She’s Persephone, scattering flower petals wherever she walks.

“Thank you for everything today, Pilar,” he said, and he could see the tiny pricks of tears glistening in her eyes. “Claro, miho. You know I love you very much.” She leaned across to hug him, too--Duncan’s arm came around her, feeling warm and dizzy. I know how you feel, he thought to her. I never know how to describe how wonderful Kenzie is, either, but it’s like she is literally an angel, and we’re all lucky just to be close to her. Pilar laughed a little against him, as if embarrassed at her own sudden emotions, then let go of him and stepped away, waving goodbye to them. “Buenos noches, vida bellas.” Then she turned away; Duncan could still see the tears glimmering in her eyes, and he knew innately that she suddenly wanted to be alone. He pulled Kenzie gently through the plug door and down the steps, the evening air cascading against them suddenly--the sun was setting to the northwest, far on the horizon that faced them, falling into a skyline that was going dark with indigo, bleeding into dappled orange and rose. He turned to look up at her as he stepped down ahead, their hands still clutched together, her hat pressed gently under his arm; the wind blew her hair against her cheek, the sunset falling in a gauze, like a veil, over her eyes, turned down to watch her feet on the steps, ungainly in her sleepiness, the tiny gold necklaces at her throat glinting in the shadow. Saint Mackenzie, patron of lost souls, bringer of light and golden love. Bringing deer back from the dead. Bringing tears into the eyes of her faithful followers. Kissing flowers into my lungs.

He helped Kenzie into the car; she let him, not speaking, but he got a tiny burst of her thoughts; I really don’t want to go to the office tomorrow, god, I’m scared now, I’m scared the minute someone leaves me alone at my desk for a minute someone’s going to come and try to rip my arm out or kidnap me or something and he slid in beside her and snapped the door shut, nodding to Samuel in the rearview. He could hear Stevie Nicks low on the sound system tonight--her voice lowered and deepened by time, enriched by the glow of the sunset in this moment. I turned around, and the water was closing all around...like a glove, like the love that had finally, finally found me...and I knew, in the crystalline knowledge of you...as Samuel drove away, he turned to Kenzie, watching her face--she looked out the window, her fingers twined atop his in the middle of the BMW’s backseat, and he could see that her cheeks were just the tiniest bit sunburnt, at the stretch of her face below her eyes. She was singing along softly under her breath, and he ached at the sound of it--the sincere lilt of her beautiful voice. How the faces of love have changed, turning the pages...and I have changed, oh, but you, you remain ageless…

“Baby...I think, maybe, you should take tomorrow off from work,” he said to her, gently, as the car turned onto I-66. “I know...you’re still upset about what happened on Friday, and you have every right to be. That was traumatic for you, and no one should expect you to get over it right away. I think...this week was so much…” He watched Kenzie’s eyes flutter closed as he said this. Yes, baby, so much. It’s been so fucking much. “It would...it would give you a chance to settle in at home. Sleep...have a day to yourself...put all your things where you want them. What do you think, Kenzie?”

She was quiet for a long moment (drove me through the mountain...through the crystal like a clear water fountain…) and then she nodded a little. “I’d like to do that, I think,” she said softly, almost whispering. Duncan moved his thumb carefully over her hand, loving the bumps of her little knuckles, the softness of her skin beyond them, the rise of her wrist bone. “Okay, baby. I think I will.”

“Ben wants to do that interview on Tuesday, so I’ll be with you at work the next day, too.”

She turned to him, and the smile of relief in her eyes fell against his heart with a hard pressure. He could feel her thoughts immediately drift into calm; could feel her hand relax under his, and she moved closer to him, dipping her head down to the crook under his arm. Her spot. Duncan thought of what he’d found on the Sotheby’s website while she’d been sleeping on the plane--in a few week’s time, Waterhouse’s Ariadne would be going up for auction. He thought of the lines from Edith Hamilton’s book, the one he’d read over and over as a child: Some time during his wanderings, Dionysus came upon the princess of Crete, Ariadne, when she was utterly desolate, having been abandoned on the shore of the island of Naxos by the Athenian prince, Theseus, whose life she had saved. Dionysus had compassion upon her. He rescued her, and in the end loved her. When she died Dionysus took a crown he had given her and placed it among the stars. In the painting, Ariadne sat languidly upon a chaise, her face turned upward in serene repose, a leopard sleeping beneath, another standing near the end of the seat where lavender robes were gathered under her. Ariadne’s right breast was bare, her other covered by a crimson robe over one shoulder, knees gathered together, long flowers growing around her. In the distance there was a ship, sailing into the pink horizon away from a white dock, and bushes of white flowers. Dionysus comes from reveling and finds his Ariadne, and knows she will be his starlight, his moon, his sun and every spinning celestial planet in the sky. He thought of the way she stared at The Youth of Bacchus, wanted to look into it as they fucked, touched by eroticism. Duncan’s hands trailed languidly through Kenzie’s hair, still feeling of sea salt and the last of the sun. Ariadne will be for you and you alone, my love, and we’ll hang it in the empty space in our bedroom, and it will always be your face to me, turned up in sweet sleep. Only unlike the wine god to his bride, I have not saved you. You have saved me.

Duncan opened his phone as Kenzie breathed quietly into him (Stevie was singing another song now and it floated into his ears: well one more night I’d like to lie and hold you, yes, and feel…); the drive back from the airport would take half an hour, and if Kenzie wanted to sleep for the rest of the ride, he was determined to let her use him for a pillow. He gazed down at the photos they’d taken today--he smiled looking at the one of Kenzie in her little bikini, the embarrassed expression of happiness in her eyes. Princess Kenzie. It currently had over 700,000 likes and 6,000 comments. He scrolled down, looking through some of them.

I wish I was this skinny, maybe I could get a billionaire to date me too

She’s not a Princess she’s a QUEEN an ANGEL a GODDESS (Yes, she is.)

I’m going to frame their wedding pictures and hang them in my house

How is anyone this pretty honestly

DUMP HER FOR @marissamontague ALREADY (Pfft, never a fucking chance in a million years, honey, Duncan thought. I’m sure she’ll be at the Gala and she better not try to sink her claws into Kenzie. He noticed Marissa had liked the comment and made a face. Ugh. It’s not just her fans who are strange. She’s insane. Fuck off, Marissa. He thought of the one time they’d almost slept together with mild disgust, how she’d laid there as if she were made of lead--even reached for her phone at one point--until he climbed off of her after a few minutes, aghast. Duncan was relatively sure Marissa was actually asexual, though he doubted she’d realized that herself--and that her main motivation in the dating world was optics: the richest, most successful potential boyfriend was the one she was most interested in.)

If they did a photoshoot together I think I’d go into cardiac arrest (Now there’s an idea, Duncan thought, and made a mental note to talk to his PR.)

BUY HER MORE DIAMONDS DUNCAN (That I will do.)

#DUCKENZIE 4 LIFE #DUCKENZIE 4 EVA

JOIN THE OFFICIAL #DUCKENZIE FAN CLUB AT DUCKENZIEFANS.COM (Jesus, okay. We have a fan club now. Can’t look at that right now.)

He noticed Claire (@clairebear) had left a comment on it: a long line of heart-eye emojis and lipstick stains. Same, Claire, same, he thought, liking her comment and going to her profile, hitting the follow button. He scrolled down Claire’s photos (lots were of food and designs on coffee drinks and a miniature boxer puppy who seemed to be named Snickers/Snickerdoodle/Snicky or some variation thereof, selfies, and fashion/glamour shots of models and couture from her job with Morgan Winthrop), liking several of them, until he came to one of her with Kenzie up on Claire’s shoulders, both of them laughing as Kenzie seemed to be falling, leaning down over Claire’s head. I mean sure why not @kenzielouwho the caption said. Duncan grinned at it--every time he saw a new picture of her it was like his heart wanted to burst out of him and start flying around his head. He liked it and left three black heart emojis on it.

Duncan scrolled through his email for awhile, thinking over the week to come--Ben’s interview with him the day after tomorrow, another harrowing day after that, no doubt, devoted to Annette on Wednesday. He thought of the task before him on Thursday, to try to gain Claire Underwood’s trust. No easy task when Annette has done everything she can to try to scare the President into legislation rather than negotiation. Something tells me her “breakdown” isn’t what it appears to be at first glance. And of course the Gala on Friday. I still need to decide what I’m wearing, shit. I should ask Kenzie to choose for me--I want my look to compliment hers, but she said she wants it to be a surprise after all. Duncan’s phone vibrated in his hand. A text from Mom.

Your Uncle had a consultation over the weekend. The cancer is moving more rapidly than the doctors had hoped and they expect him to be bedridden in a month’s time. I will be talking to him about his Will this week, after the Gala. You were completely out of bounds to tell Mackenzie about our plans for Shepherd Unlimited going forward. I expect you to use more discretion in the future and leave her out of business dealings. We have two interviews scheduled for Wednesday, one with Forbes and one with Vanity Fair. She’s expected at both. I will do most of the talking.

Leave her out of our business dealings. Duncan went out of his texts, not answering. Once I’m primary shareholder, Mom, she’s going to be intimately involved in our business dealings, she’s going to be making executive decisions for the fucking business on the board with Madeline and you’re going to have to accept it and stop being so selfish and let something generous into your heart for once. We’re going to change it. I’m going to change the Shepherd legacy--not through blood but by the desire to do something good. Samuel told me to let my heart guide me, and Kenzie’s going to help me, and that’s what I’m fucking going to do.

Duncan wondered, idly, if Kenzie wanted children. He never had, despite knowing it was something his mother expected eventually--the world, he’d always thought, was no kind place for children. And he still didn’t want to have kids, even though Kenzie was here now--it didn’t feel like their Fate, not like meeting each other hand, not like being together seemed to be. We’re still not really sure how this telepathy thing works, he thought, hand gently trailing over the bottom of Kenzie’s ear as her cheek rested on the right breast of his beach shirt. But what I feel from her is that she doesn’t want them, either. I know she has a birth control implant in her arm, but I can’t remember when we talked about that. Maybe we didn’t. Maybe I just know because I heard what she was thinking. And maybe that’s how I know she doesn’t want kids, either. Not now, and not ever. She wants to write, be a good journalist, and spread her passion for life to as many people as she can. And now I want to do that too--spread happiness as far as I can, to the people who are already here. If we can reshape the Foundation, we can make it into something that can help people for generations, even after we’re gone. And we can do that without having kids of our own.

But we should talk about it. I want to be sure that she’s sure. And I want her to know that I’m sure. Maybe tomorrow, when we’re not so sleepy. Maybe tomorrow.

It was fifteen minutes later when Samuel glided up to the sidewalk in front of the penthouse, hopping out of the driver’s seat to start unloading the baskets and beach gear from the trunk. Kenzie had stirred herself awake a few minutes before this time, and she was yawning again, running a hand through her sun-dried hair, leaning up to Duncan to kiss him, sleepy-eyed. “I don’t know why I’m so tired,” she murmured. “I do,” Duncan said, grinning, “Too much sex.” Kenzie slapped his chest, lightly, gasping. “Probably true.” She slipped out of the car before he could catch her, grabbing one of the baskets from Samuel’s hand before he could protest, skipping down the sidewalk into the high-rise’s foyer. Duncan shook his head, grasping the towels and beach blanket and shutting the trunk, smiling at Samuel, who was laughing after her. “That girl is like a little comet,” Samuel said, and Duncan was struck by the image of her flying across a sky full of stars--he saw her wings and halo again, the ones he’d seen in his dream, and they were dazzling to recall. My little firefly.

Jerry swung the door open for him and Samuel and Duncan nodded to him. Kenzie had stopped at the front desk to talk to Anchaly; Anchaly was leaning down to her conspiratorially, telling her something, and Kenzie’s face was blushing, looking back at Duncan as he came toward her. “Anchaly says there are boxes for me upstairs,” she said, turning to Duncan. “You have to stop buying me things.”

“Never,” Duncan said, shaking his head, glancing at Anchaly, who was looking between them with delighted interest. “Get used to it, Kenz.”

“Mr. Shepherd, Mackenzie--the chandelier hook was installed today while you were away.”

Kenzie looked at Anchaly with a puzzled expression, then a dawning realization came over her face and she turned to Duncan for a long moment, her eyes spinning with flecks of gold, then she turned again and thanked Anchaly, smiled at him sweetly (you little sneak, baby, he heard her thought), waved goodbye to the man and went to the elevator, leaning against it to hold it open for Duncan whose arms were full. She gazed up at him as he looked down at her, moving inside; then she reached for the other picnic basket from Samuel’s hand and leaned up to the much taller, older man; he leaned down, hesitatingly, and Kenzie kissed his cheek. Samuel’s huge, very white smile fell over his handsome face, and he stepped backward out of the elevator. Duncan watched Samuel’s hand come up to his cheek where Kenzie had pressed her little lips, and the expression in his eyes was bright with emotion as the doors slid shut. Everyone loves her so much. Our Kenzie. Our angel. I’m so grateful. I need everyone’s help to protect her. To keep her safe, no matter what. Nothing like Friday can happen to her again. He lost himself in the devolving swirl of his thoughts for a moment until Kenzie came up against him as the elevator climbed, looking directly into his eyes, her head turned up, her little arms pressing into his sides, her little breasts pressing into his stomach, making warmth pool there.

“What did you get me, baby,” she whispered, raising her eyebrows, her eyes huge and jade-chocolate under her long eyelashes, her little mouth open to him.

“You’ll see.”

“Tell me,” she whined. “Is it a pony?”

“Not a pony.”

“But I want a pony, baby.” She pouted, and he could see the indecorous smile she was trying to hide.

“Then I’ll get you a pony. But I don’t know where we’ll keep her.”

“At my garden house, of course. The house I’ll have someday in the country, with a greenhouse, and verdant fields of flowers, and a garden, and a bonfire pit, and magic in every corner.”

“Kenzie, baby...is that what you want?”

“I’ve always wanted it. I’ve dreamt about my green country house for as long as I can remember dreaming about anything.” She sighed against him. “To have a place to steal away from everything and grow things and eat the things I grew from my own garden, and write something and sleep under a dozen quilts with rain falling outside my window. And keep a pony. Or maybe a few ponies.” She was grinning at him now, and he loved her little teeth, wanted to press his finger along them, wanted to devour her mouth. “For a few summers during high school I helped this friend of Momby’s, she owns a charity that does horse therapy for kids with mental handicaps. We’d take care of the horses and clean their stalls and she’d let us ride them. They’re so sweet and so big and they have these huge beautiful eyes and ears and they’d eat apples out of my hand. One was named Foxglove and he was dappled and he was the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen and he was as sweet as honey, so gentle and quiet. I’ve liked horses ever since and....I miss being around them.” Suddenly, Kenzie seemed to grow shy, seemed to remember the opulent gold elevator they were rising in, seemed to remember that they were going to Duncan’s huge penthouse, and that she was no longer ordinary Kenzie Stone, but Mackenzie Stone, girlfriend of billionaire Prince Duncan Shepherd. She stepped back from him, looking away, and Duncan’s heart clenched.

“Look at me, baby.” Her eyes came back into his, confused, unsure. “I told you I was going to give you anything you wanted. I want you to tell me everything. Your hopes and dreams. Your desires. So please--tell me everything. I want to hear all of it.” The elevator opened; Kenzie slid away, shyly looking down again from his eyes, smiling through the blush that had spread over her cheeks. Duncan followed her to the penthouse door, his arms full of the remnants of their beach day, and pressed his face to the side of her ear as she fumbled for her key. The door swung open and she suddenly turned and pressed her mouth up into his and Duncan dropped everything he was holding and his hands came around her to clutch her little body against him. He could feel how tired she was--it licked at his mind as he pressed her into him, how exhausted she felt, her body and her heart and her mind lost in a sort of fog, a low shadow of overwhelmed, washed-out color. He picked her up under her thigh and at her waist, the better to lift her mouth up into him, and Kenzie wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips as he brought her inside, hitting the light switch to the diamond chandelier with the crook of his elbow, setting her down, light as a feather, on the obsidian island. He could see the telltale hint of pink from the corner of his eye--he glanced there from where Kenzie’s lips were still pressed into his and she pulled back from him, also having noticed.

“Dunny, oh my god,” she whispered. There were four boxes in all, neatly stacked atop one another--Agent Provocateur was visible along the box at the top, in swirling gold script, black ribbon on the top corner and the bottom right, tied in a bow. Duncan let go of her and brought the first box over to her where she sat on the island’s edge, her feet dangling a few feet above the floor; she held the box in her lap as he knelt down to untie her sandals, and he looked up into her eyes to see her swallowing nervously, her eyes glittering inside his.

“Open them, please?” Her first sandal came undone in his long hand, and Duncan leaned his mouth to her bare ankle again--the marks these shoes had left were not nearly as dark as the one that night (that first night, that night I will never forget), but he kissed them just the same, loving the salty taste of her sea-drenched skin under his mouth. He watched her neck incline, her eyes close at the feeling of his lips--then Kenzie opened them again, looking down at the box, and pulled at the black ribbon, soothing it away from the box and lifting the lid. He worked at her other ankle as she gasped into it, setting the lid beside her atop the ribbon. She lifted the silky black kimono out--it shone in the light of the diamond chandelier, to where the delicate lace around its sleeves and hem fell in graceful waves.

“This is beauuuutiful,” Kenzie whispered, longingly. Duncan kissed her other ankle as the sandal came free, resisting the urge to kiss all the way up her leg, kiss between her thighs again. She’s too tired tonight. Be patient. Be content to give her these beautiful things--beautiful but not half as beautiful as she is. “Oh, Duncan, I love this. It’s so soft.” He stood up, hands falling on her knees against the wrap dress, gazing down at the kimono in her hands, smiling. “I’m so glad you like it. After I went through all your clothes I wanted to...I just wanted to buy you some beautiful things. And I felt like I had a good idea of what you would like--”

“Dunny, I love it. I’ve always wanted something like this…” Duncan could see the glittering wetness of her eyes, knew she was on the edge of tears. He soothed his hand up her thigh. She sniffed and blinked rapidly for a moment, until the threat of tears dissipated. “I’ll wear it every night.”

“Open the other ones.”

Duncan pulled the first box with the kimono gently out of her lap, then passed her the next one, soothing it against her thighs. Kenzie swallowed again, and he noticed her little fingers were trembling as she undid the ribbon. This one had the nude white lingerie in it--flowers cut out along the bare bust (your little nipples visible under the silkiness baby) and along the panties and the waistband of the suspenders, with long transparent stockings. Its silky tulle slid under her small fingers, and watching her look at it, her eyes like wet jade, made his nerves burn for her.

“Dunny,” she whispered.

“Do you like it? Is it okay?”

“Are you fucking kidding? Is it okay? It’s the most beautiful lingerie I’ve ever seen...the most beautiful I’ve ever had. Nobody has ever gotten me anything like this.”

“Baby--I’ll get you as many you want. One for every day of the year. God, you’re going to look so beautiful in it, Kenzie.” He pressed his face down to her and she kissed him with her mouth open, her hand sliding away from the tulle of the bra and coming around his jaw, fingers trailing along the shadow of his stubble. He went to kiss her more deeply, but she pulled away from him, her hand falling a little to grip the top of his throat.

“Give me the next one, baby,” she said, and the command in her tone made blood surge into his cock, made it ache for a moment with the hint of arousal. Duncan already knew they weren’t going to fuck tonight--he could see it in her eyes somehow, had felt it in the tired drift of her as he carried her inside, but she was making him a promise--the promise was tomorrow night, and he already felt a bone-deep anticipation.

The third box had the black lingerie. It was even more beautiful than it had appeared in the photos; the leaf-like lace motifs reminded Duncan of clusters of ripe grapes (Dionysus sees Ariadne in the moonlight, and is struck with longing) and the geometric artistry of its elegant shape seemed to make Kenzie’s eyes even darker--she held the suspenders up, eyes roving over the black band that would go around her waist, the spindly, criss-crossing designs that would fall on her abdomen, the black stockings on her slender legs rising up to her curvy thighs, and then she looked up at him, opening her mouth just a little. Duncan felt trapped inside her gaze--he moved back and leaned against the wall directly across from her, crossing his arms behind his back, dipping his head shyly and looking up at her from the halo of his hair falling down over his forehead.

“You like it.”

He could see the delicate hum of her breathing under her skin--see the tiny hammering vibration of her heart at her throat and between her breasts, see the tiny shivering in her shoulders and her fingers.

“Yes.”

“I can’t wait to see you in that.”

She lifted her chin and smiled at him, and the smile was full of need, and he was stunned to see its power, too--it was a smile full of power, full of her divinity. The knowledge in it struck him like the weight of a heavy hand. She knows I belong to her. And I do, baby, I do, I fucking do. Eat me, devour me, push me down into your hands where I fall to pieces under your touch, push me down between your legs and make me beg for you, tell me every need, every desire, and I will bring it to life. You’ve brought me to life and I will give you any pleasure you have long sought, for your arms only have brought the truest pleasure to me.

“Mhmm.” She didn’t say anything else, just let her fingers trail over the black tulle, not moving her eyes out of his. “And what’s that last one, baby.”

Duncan stepped over to the box and brought it to her; she stacked the one on her lap atop the others and slid her hands down his fingers, taking it from him. Duncan shivered. That’s it, baby, make me dissolve under your touch. Turn me to warm liquid, spilling down over your body.

In the last box, the sleeping set rested, neatly folded in pink and black lace, in the center--and on top of it was the rose choker. Kenzie seemed to stop breathing for a moment as she looked down at it. Then, Duncan watched her reached out her little fist and grasped it tightly, her thumb trailing over the thick black leather, her index and middle fingers gently caressing the silvery rose at the throat. Kenzie lifted it out of the box and let a harsh breath out of her body--it seemed to shake the entire room, seemed to send heavy gold waves against every surface, and Duncan felt stunned by the energy that crashed against him from her, her eyes planetary in their golden insistence towards him. You saw this, and you thought of me, didn’t you, baby, you thought of your angel, your deep red rose, blooming under your touch.

“Duncan...this is so beautiful.” Kenzie said the words with aching slowness. She trailed her little tongue over her lips and Duncan couldn’t stop the moan that escaped from between his own, quiet but insistent. She looked up at him (I see the storm in your eyes, baby, she said into him, I see that storm that wants to devour me into sweet fragments, and if you can be patient, I will give you redolent nectar, I will give you ambrosia, and soon, very soon), holding it still, and then Kenzie smiled and bit down into her lip, her immediate need crashing against him again. “You’re gonna put this on me tomorrow night while I watch you do it in our fucking mirror, baby. And then we’re gonna lose ourselves in each other.”

“Yes, Kenzie. Yes, angel. I will. We will.”

She set it down gently into the box and pulled out the sleeping set as he stepped back toward her, his hands falling down her knees again, kissing her forehead. Kenzie set the box on the counter on top of the others, and held the silky pink satin in her little fingers as Duncan gripped her waist and carefully, with aching gentleness, lifted her down from the edge of the island, so her little face was hovering at the top of his chest, and her eyes were gazing up at him, the curve of her sunburnt cheeks turned to him, the frame of her chestnut hair around her shoulders cast in the sheen of the chandelier, her feet bare. She undid the tie at her waist that held her wrap dress on her small frame, and Duncan pulled it off her shoulders, folding it over and setting it gently on the island beside the boxes.

“Take a shower with me and then let’s go to sleep, please, baby? I’m so sleepy.” She breathed the sweet words up to him, standing there in her little bikini for the last time that day, and Duncan nodded, leaning into her with his own mixture of longing and tiredness, closing his eyes, kicking his sandals off, his hands on her arms and in her hair. She gripped his fingers and pulled him into the bathroom, carefully setting the little satin pyjamas on the bed on their way through the bedroom--their eyes skirted over where the hook and bronze chain had been extended down from the high penthouse ceiling in front of the mirror, but Kenzie continued on to the bathroom, and though Duncan longed to examine it, he resolved to do it later. Plenty of time to look at it, day after day, and dream of all we can use it for. As soon as they stepped into the bathroom, the low hanging lights at their dimmest setting, Kenzie discarded her bikini in a little pile on the cold, seamless stone tiles, stepping inside the glass-doored shower as Duncan pulled his shirt and swim trunks off, stepping in behind her, reaching out to her as steam immediately began to coat the glass. Kenzie was already massaging shampoo into her long hair, scrunching up her nose in the scalding water--if only I could take a picture of this too, Duncan thought, but he knew he’d never forget it regardless. “I love the sea but fuck does it stink,” she laughed a little, and Duncan nodded, smiling into her, kissing her. She reached her soapy hands up and massaged them into his hair, kissing him back, her little tongue slipping between his teeth, then sliding away again before he could twist his own tongue against her, moving under the shower head so the soap washed away from her body, her little face turned up to the stream.

“Kenzie,” he said, thoughtful, contemplative, reaching for the bath sponge along the shower wall, squeezing jasmine soap into it, lathering it in his hands and soothing it down between her little breasts as she stood under the water. Her eyes opened a little, slitted against the pressure of the shower head, looking at him expectantly, her mouth opening to him just a little. He could see the slight dusting of hair that had begun to grow back between her legs (he fought his desire to slip his fingers against her there) and under her arms where she’d lifted them, could see the dusting of sun along her back and collarbones from the beach today.

“Mmm?” Kenzie pulled down the second bottle of Givenchy face cleanser Duncan kept in the shower and squirted some into her hand, lathering it into her face as he ran the sponge along her back, still hesitating to go on. Then he finally spoke. I guess it’ll be today and not tomorrow. It feels like the right time.

“Do you ever want children?”

Kenzie continued to rinse the wash off her face, then rubbed her hands carefully into her eyes and turned, stepping out of the shower’s stream, gripping his arms to bring him under it instead. She eased the sponge out of his fingers, squeezing more soap onto it, her wet hair, now rinsed of shampoo and conditioner, over her shoulder. She ran the sponge down his chest to the top of his groin, the soap sliding down his hips and limp cock and testicles, down his thighs. Her eyes looked up into his, and he knew her answer before she spoke--the answer he’d known already but needed reassurance for.

“No. I don’t, Duncan. Do you?”

She kept staring--she knows what I’m going to say too.

“I don’t, Kenzie. I don’t either.”

Kenzie stepped closer to him, and he watched her breathe out--a sigh of relief.

“Did we talk about this?” Duncan really didn’t know--he tried to recall the conversation, the mention of it. “I feel like I knew that, somehow--that you didn’t want to have any. But I can’t remember when you told me.”

“I don’t think we did, baby. But I think I knew it anyway, too. That you don’t want them either. Maybe it’s...maybe...we heard it? From each other? Like...like we can sometimes. ”

“I still can’t believe that. That we can do that sometimes. It’s...beyond words. Literally.” He laughed a little, then shivered as she continued to move the sponge along his arms and down his back over the rise of his ass. Kenzie playfully pinched him there with a sharp pressure and he writhed away, still laughing, coming back to her, gripping at her wrists to keep her quick little fingers away, pressing his forehead down against hers. ”You better stop that.”

“Or what.” Kenzie giggled and stuck the tip of her tongue out between her teeth at him, trying to wrestle her wrists out of his strong hands.

“Or I’m gonna push you into the glass and fuck you, Princess,” he murmured down into her mouth, his hands still pressing into the soft flesh at the bottom of her palms, feeling her heartbeat through the veins there; rapid and fluttering.

“Duncan Shepherd, I demand you let me go.”

Duncan immediately let go of her, but he could feel the expression of longing that pressed into his face. “I can’t wait to see you in that lingerie, baby. Oh my fucking god, I can’t wait.”

“Try thinking it this time. I wanna see if I can hear you. Think about how much you wanna fuck me, baby.” Kenzie spun around very slowly in the rising mist of the hot water, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder, leaning down just a little and wiggling her curvy ass towards him, straightening up and spinning back around, eyes in his. She reached out, trailing one little finger down from the dip of his collarbone to the space between his breast, down the center of his belly to his bellybutton, dipping her finger in for a moment, then letting it hover in the center of his abdomen, right above the not-entirely-limp rise of his cock. “Think about me. I wanna see if I can hear.”

Duncan stood still for a moment, shivering at the small pressure of her delicate touch, then he thought, carefully, specifically, and tried to push it into her mind, into the space behind her eyes, as he had a few nights ago, Annette between them--but Annette was not between them now, and he gripped her wrists again and pushed her, gently, back, so her shoulder blades fell softly into the fogged glass, and his hands came up around her breasts and he pressed his face down to her neck and kissed her, softly, not speaking, but pressing his feelings into her. Kenzie, I want to tie you up on that hook and lick the soft, wet, sweet space between your legs. I want to fuck your beautiful little pink cunt and your sweet little ass, fuck you until we are lost inside each other and lost in our pleasure, and I want you to come all over my cock and I wanna come inside you until our release runs down between our legs and I want you, baby, I want you all day long, every minute, as soon as we fuck I just wanna fuck you again, I wanna lose myself in your body and your eyes, Kenzie, they’re like stars hovering over a shadowed forest or the bottom of the dark sea with its green and gold relics, like the nebulas of time. Kenzie had arched into him as he went on and on--and he’d felt the push again, flowing out from him, and as he pulled his face away from his attentions at her neck to look at her, the gold flecks had seemed to emerge in her gaze and swirl there, the rings of the planets and the galaxies inside her.

“Like the nebulas of time,” Duncan saw her little mouth move, saw the whisper of his thoughts in the words she spoke. “Baby. I heard that. I heard all of that. I think when we’re touching, it gets stronger. I think that’s how it works best. We have to push and if we are touching, it’s like it’s...a stronger radio signal, or something.”

“Touch me, try me. I wanna see if I can hear you too. Tell me a secret.”

Duncan grasped Kenzie’s hand and pressed it into his chest--spread her fingers carefully so her palm was flat on him and her hand stretched gracefully. She looked up at him in the rising steam, her wet dark-golden hair flat against her head, wetness glistening on her cheeks and on her lips, her eyes still full of whirling flecks of shimmering dust. Then he felt her--felt the pressure of her, the gold cloak of her fall over his mind--it was soothing and sweet and as comforting as a soft bed in a bone-deep tiredness, and he almost felt as if he could taste her, honey and rosewater and apples.

I’ve always wanted to write a book. Something very beautiful and very true and totally mine. But I’ve always been afraid to do it. I’ve always doubted myself. But you, Duncan...you make me feel like anything is possible. That I can bring deer back to life. That I can make Annette love me. That I can write my book. That there is such a thing as a Soulmate, and there is a One for me, and it’s you, it’s you, it’s you baby, it’s you now and forever, the other half of my soul and the body that fits against my body like we’re two breathing pieces of a living puzzle. I believe in everything now. I don’t believe in luck anymore. I believe in destiny, because I’ve found mine. My destiny is you.

Duncan heard himself gasp a little as she let go, and the pressure in his mind lifted away like a tide pulling back out from shore into the sea. “Baby. Yes. I heard you. My destiny is you. You want to write a book. And you don’t believe in luck anymore. And I’m your Soulmate. And I am. And you are mine, baby. You’re mine, too. I heard you, so loud and clear, like you were whispering into my ear.” He pulled her little face against his shoulder and gripped the back of her hair, softly, in his fingers, letting them fall through it, feeling her hands come around his back, the pressure of her nose and the tickle of her eyelashes. “I heard you.” Kenzie lifted her head and looked at him and smiled, and the feeling of her against him was beyond any comfort he’d ever felt from anything else. Beloved, he thought into her, and he felt her rebound the word and wrap herself around it, the gold of her, and push it back into him, so it was echoed in her voice towards him, beloved.

Kenzie moved away from him and turned the knob of the shower. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and squeezed it out so a rivulet of hot water fell down the drain, her eyes on his feet then up over his thighs and his cock, his hands and neck and lips and eyes and his hair. “I really lucked out in the Soulmate department,” she said softly, and he felt shyness press into the back of his mind as she opened the shower door, looking back at him over her shoulder--he tried to think of something that could possibly, ever, somehow, describe the depth of his emotion for her in this moment, trying to think it into her instead, again--whatever you feel towards me, Kenzie, know that my feeling for you is equal to it, if not even greater...what I feel for you is an ocean that doesn’t have a final depth. It knows no end and it only grows with time.

“It knows no end and it only grows with time.” He heard her voice extend towards him as she pulled one of his hydrocotton bath towels down from the hook against the wall and wrapped it around her petite shoulders, her wet hair tucked into it, then reached for another and brought it over to him, clutched in her little fingers--he took it from her lovingly, his fingers falling against hers, then rubbing it down his face and through his hair as he stepped out behind her and she turned to the sink, wrapping the towel around her breasts and reaching for her toothbrush. “I heard that too, baby. I heard everything. How amazing. To feel you that way.” She turned her little face up to him as he came up beside her, sunburned and sleepy and glowing. “To feel the warmth of you inside me. It’s like nothing else I’ve ever felt, either. It’s like you’re the night sky and I’m falling up into you. Oh, baby. It’s so wonderful.”

Duncan wrapped the towel around his waist and pressed his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead, feeling unable to speak again. Sometimes, words just aren’t enough, my love. His emotions right now felt like a color, vast and bright, vibrating and flowing, a color that only materialized out of the ether when they were together like this--a color that belonged only to the two of them, a new color, staggering in its beauty.

“It’s okay, baby,” Kenzie said, holding her toothbrush, covered in turquoise toothpaste, pausing, seeming to recognize the depth of his affectation. “You don’t have to say anything. I can feel you. Even this way. Even confused--even...overwhelmed.” She reached her hand out and soothed it along his arm, and Duncan looked down at her, nodding, his mind clouded over with her. They both brushed their teeth without speaking, the glow still drifting between them, looking at each other carefully in the bathroom mirror, shyly looking away, and looking back again, drawn to each other like two moths to the glow of a warm light. I want to marry you, Kenzie, Duncan thought, unable to stop himself, and he saw the blush fall over her cheeks despite her sunburn as she spit into the sink, rinsing her mouth out--saw the way her eyes fell on him, glittering, consort to his thoughts, saw her rose-colored affection, the provocation his thought stirred in her. We’d have so many flowers, flowers everywhere, lilies and lilacs, roses and lavender and iris and peony, lining every pathway, flowers surrounding you like an altar, flowers in your hair and around your head and flowers for you, goddess of spring, the queen of my heart--the true gold in my life, all riches be damned. Your ring would be a moonstone, because you’re my moonlight and every star dims to you, bows its head--and I can only imagine your gown and its shivering beauty and the sight of you in it and the well of my happiness and my heart spilling over into the endless love I feel for you.

“Ugh, stop thinking such beautiful things, baby. I can’t stand it.”

“I can’t help it. It’s how I feel.”

She slid away from him as he reached across the sink for her, out of the bathroom, looking back at him. Come here. Come to bed, hold me, kiss me in the dark and fall away into sleep with me, beloved, my Prince of Shadow, aching in your beauty.

He came after her, letting his towel fall to the floor, uncaring. Kenzie was slipping the little satin sleeping set over her hips, lifting the camisole over her head, toweling her hair dry as he watched the silken fabric press against her thighs and her little breasts, her nipples visibly hard through it. He slid his hands down around her hips, impossibly smooth in the little pyjamas, standing behind her, pulling her insistently into his nakedness, his nose coming down to smell her--jasmine soap and her shampoo, like lemon and roses and lily. She turned into him, discarding her towel on the floor, too--and then he watched her eyes skirt over to where the chain hung down, glinting in the low light, from the heavy hook now expertly installed in the high penthouse ceiling, and watched her gaze through the mirror beyond it at the shape of them pressed together.

Tomorrow, she thought into him, and he looked at them too, their reflection in the great and provocative mirror that now stretched its wide eye in their room, and he was overcome again by how beautiful she looked in his arms, how small and delicate, her damp hair falling into his hands, the silky-softness of her against his belly and his arms.

“Sleep now, please, baby,” she murmured, and pulled at his hips. At first Duncan followed her, hungry and aching, but then he remembered, with a wave of disappointment, that all of their beach things were still scattered in the hallway, forgotten in the distraction of their desire. They hadn’t even bothered to eat anything for dinner, but he didn’t feel hungry somehow. I expect to be distracted for the rest of my life. If you’ll have me for that long. “Kenzie, we left everything in the hall. I have to go get it. I’ll be right back baby, I promise.” Kenzie was already laying down, looking up at him with hazy eyes, and she nodded a little, tucking her hand under her chin. Duncan pulled the duvet over her and kissed the soft space beside her eyelid, hand against her damp hair--then he went into the closet and pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs, moving through the living room (he noticed Kenzie’s roses had begun to wilt with a touch of sadness--I’ll just have to get her more, he thought) and through the kitchen, eyes skirting over the pink boxes, pulling the black door of the penthouse open and gathering the beach things they’d abandoned, placing them inside the doorway, bringing the picnic basket onto the island, putting the dishes in the long steel sink and the remnants of food away in the big silver fridge. He looked at Kenzie’s succulents as he did this, with long, meandering affection--she wants a garden, he remembered, she wants a house in the country and a garden and some horses to take care of, and when I take over the company, she’s going to have them. It’ll be our secret, beautiful place, away from paps and prying eyes and my mother, away from everything that gets in the way.

When Duncan went back into the bedroom, twenty minutes later, Kenzie was fast asleep, her thumb tucked against her bottom lip, her breathing very slow and even, her damp hair across the pillow. Sleeping beauty, he thought, sentimental--I don’t care, she is. She’s my Briar Rose, my ethereal fae princess, my wood nymph, dancing in the forest clearing, and I come upon her and I’m struck forever with need for her. Ariadne, bathed in moonlight. Persephone, dancing in the flowers, singing, kindling desire and hope in my wine-dark heart. O gods, Fates, whatever have I done in your eyes to deserve her, whatever can I do to deserve her? How can I hear the gentleness of her emotions, the fall of her thoughts, how have you seen fit to bless me, as doubtful and flawed and selfish as I have been? I’m utterly moved inside her embrace, moved by her grace, moved by the gentleness of her soul. I’ll do whatever I can to be worthy of her love. To be inside it is to be redeemed from all darkness, and I’m grateful.

Duncan climbed into bed beside her, switching the lamp off, his eyes falling over the mirror over his shoulder again. It seemed to wink at him; a cascade of secret gold flitted over its surface. His eyes fell with shuddering longing up the length of the chain (the chain I’ll tie her velvet ribbons to, the chain by which she’ll give herself to me in complete devotion, and I can’t even bear to think of it, her trust is so dear to me), then he turned away, overcome, and laid down beside her to watch the shuddering softness of her breath and her eyelids. The full moon is on the night of the Gala, he thought. And it will shine for her and her alone.

Soon after that, Duncan fell asleep, his hand on Kenzie’s pillow, his fingers gently twined around a wave of her golden hair.

--------

He woke first the next day; he could see the lines of tiredness still on Kenzie’s face as she turned away from him in her sleep to fold herself deep into the corner of the bed, faraway in an unknown dream. Duncan pressed his hand through the chestnut waves of her hair, now dried to silkiness during the night--the light was still dim, the morning just arrived, but his mind was already wide awake and buzzing with need--already his thoughts hung low, toward the evening. He felt relieved that Kenzie wouldn’t be going to work today--he reached for his phone on the nightstand, sending Harris a text saying Kenzie would be staying home today and that she would message him to request his supervision if she needed to go anywhere. We should make dinner together tonight, he thought, idly, watching her breathe quietly. I want us to cook together--I think she wants that too. I love that--the idea of coming home to her and making something with her that we can enjoy together. That’s all I ever want to do now--things with her that make her happy.

He climbed out of the bed, reluctant to leave the warmth of her cocoon, and went to the closet, willing himself to move past the mirror, staring at himself in it all the way--it seemed to wink at him again, familiar, full of some secret knowledge it refused to divulge, its mystery captivating. Why do I feel like I’ve seen it so many times? Why do I feel like I know it so well? Why do we both feel like it’s belonged to Kenzie for a long time? How could it have? Duncan moved past it, almost glad to be away from its colossal gaze, into the closet, reaching up to where several of his signature long-sleeved dark-colored Oxford shirts hung in a neat row, and pulled a navy one in jersey down around his shoulders, hand through his hair and around his chin, absently--then buttoned it slowly, up to the curve of his throat right before his adam’s apple. Maybe if I can believe in Soulmates and in Fate and in destiny and if I can accept that my girlfriend and I can read each other’s thoughts, I can accept parallel lifetimes or reincarnation or...something, too. And maybe we really should go see a psychic, hell, I guess I believe in those now, also. Unicorns, I’ll add you to the list, why the hell not.

He reached for his gold Movado today--why not. It’s summer and I’m wildly in love with my Soulmate. Everything gold reminds me of her, so gold it is. He pulled a pair of well-tailored gray chinos on and chose a pair of Louboutin leather balmorals that he particularly liked from his shoe shelves--Duncan clutched them between fingers and thumb and moved out of the closet into the front room, hoping not to wake Kenzie--I really want her to sleep in today. And I want her to have breakfast in bed like the Princess she is. He placed the spotless balmorals on one of the high chairs of the center island, carefully gathering the pink boxes in his arms and moving them to the long leather couch through the divide--then he went back to the kitchen to make breakfast: a simple one for him, a green kale and avocado smoothie with his Vitamix and two pieces of sprouted bread toast with unsalted peanut butter--and a beautiful one for Kenzie on a priceless silver tray that used to belong to Adelaide. It consisted of two more slices of the sprouted bread toasted with strawberry preserves and organic rolled butter, a perfectly ripe avocado, sliced in half with the pit removed, sprinkled with ground pepper, a tiny silver spoon in its soft flesh, and two perfectly peeled and separated clementines, arranged so they fanned like the petals of an opulent flower in a silver bowl with tiny clusters of silver dogberries on the sides (also Adelaide’s--she’d given all of her silver to Duncan in her Will, and most of it was priceless). Grandma would have loved Kenzie. Unlike Mom, she had perfect taste, he thought, going into the dining room and finding one of the cloth napkins in the china cabinet drawers, coming back to place it beside the plate. Mom is too worried about what other people think of her to trust her own instincts entirely. But Grandma would have seen how special she is in an instant, because Adelaide was like that too. Luminous. I could see the way Harris glowed when he mentioned her--Harris loved her. Maybe he really loved her. It seemed to be there in his eyes.

Drifting between these thoughts of his grandmother and his lover, Duncan made Kenzie a medium-roast black coffee in one of his clear glass mugs with the Keurig that lived beside his espresso machine, as sleek, black and silent as the other machine was. Then he poured grapefruit juice (admiring its deep coral color) into the peony glass, water into one of the Waterford tumblers (I’m the black coffee, Kenzie is the rosy juice surrounded by flowers--Hades beside his Persephone), setting the glasses carefully on the tray, carrying it through the kitchen on careful feet, stopping at the coffee table to pull one of the roses (wilting just a little, but still deeply red and beautiful) by the stem out of the bouquet and placing it long-wise on the tray along the back of the glasses. Then he moved on through the bedroom to where Kenzie still lay fast asleep, her hair silky and tossed over the pillow and her shoulder, her little palm open under her cheek, turned away from the doorway. She stirred a little as he sat carefully on his edge of the bed, facing her, holding the tray steadily in his hands. She turned to him, stretching cat-like and almost subconsciously, her hand coming up to the corner of her eye, her mouth opening a little.

“Oooo, baby...is that for me?”

He nodded and smiled at her--words slipping away to behold her sweetness, her loveliness in the morning light. Kenzie sat up, and he felt another burst of painful affection at her sleep-mussed hair, the fall of the satin-and-lace sleeping cami off her shoulder, revealing the dip of her breast to him as she leaned down to straighten herself, her little hands pushing her hair back and coming together in delight as he placed the tray on the mattress in front of her, pushing the duvet away with his arm.

“Dunny, ohhh. You made me breakfast in bed.”

“I should do it every day.” He couldn’t help it--in her eyes he always felt shy, and he could feel the blush on his cheeks, the way he wanted to look away under her gaze because it made him feel so bare. They were impossibly bright this morning, the memory of her dreams still shimmering behind them, and he leaned over the tray to kiss her, his hand coming against her cheek; Kenzie’s little face leaned up to him and he was struck with the smell of her hair, jasmine, roses, lemon, and marveled at the way he could feel every feverish beat of his own heart. He could feel the smile in her kiss and as he pulled away, reluctant, she looked down again at the tray, her little teeth grinning, reaching out to the little silver spoon in the avocado, admiring it, scooping some of the green flesh out and popping it into her mouth. She swallowed, gazing at him, that gold sheen hovering over her. “This tray is really beautiful, and this little silver spoon, and ooo, this little bowl.” She touched the silver dogberries on the bowl that held the clementines, licking the spoon held against her lips.

“They were my grandmother’s. Adelaide, who Harris used to protect. She would have loved you. She wasn’t like Mom. She was beautiful and graceful like Mom, but her energy was different. She was gracious.”

“I wish I could have met her.” Kenzie’s hair fell over her shoulder, catching a burst of early morning sun, as she continued to spoon morsels of avocado into her little mouth. Duncan reached out for her hand and she grasped his fingers, and her touch was like a burst of sweet sunlight into his hand--you’re my sunlight, baby, like a sunbeam right into the center of my soul.

“I do too, baby.��

Duncan pulled his phone off the nightstand as he watched her--he couldn’t help it. Kenzie looked so beautiful this way, sunlight on her face just-so, her hair falling in a golden wave over her shoulder, her face turned down with a radiant smile, the strap of her cami off one shoulder, silver spoon poised in her hand. She reached for the grapefruit juice, and he knew she recognized the peony glass--her eyes looked up at him with affection and he was ready, snapping a picture before she could protest.

“Ugh, oh no, baby, I’m all messy.” Kenzie made a face at him, sticking out her tongue.

“No, you aren’t. You’re fucking beautiful. Can we make dinner together tonight, baby? I wanna cook with you. I’d really love to do that.” He lowered his phone, recognizing the need in his voice, but he didn’t care. With you I will always say what I feel, Kenzie.

“I would love that. What should we make? Oo, baby, Claire gave me this recipe the other day--well, a few weeks ago, I guess--it’s for vegetable fried rice but it has quinoa instead of rice. It looked so good, I really want to try it.” He watched her talk, the tiny motions of her hands and her shoulders as she reached for the toast, bringing it up to her lips, taking a bite, watching the incline of her neck and the tiny shifts of her eyes and the flutter of her eyelashes, and Duncan felt lost in her--full of gratitude again to even be near her, an emotion he was becoming deeply intimate with. “That sounds really good, baby,” he replied, reaching for her hand again. She lifted her eyes up to him.

“Duncan. I’m so happy.”

“I am too. To be with you. It’s like...my heart is constantly so full. It’s so--”

“Amazing.” Kenzie nodded. “It’s extraordinary. It’s fucking bliss.”

Bliss. That was the word.

“Here, baby,” Duncan reached over to his nightstand, ripping a memo off a pad of sticky notes stacked there beside a glass with several expensive fountain pens in it--it had been originally placed there for work notes when he woke up at night in the past, thinking about the show or the app or the company--but it had become obsolete to him in the past week. Like everything that isn’t her--it’s part of my old life. And its purpose has changed. Now, it’s for Kenzie to write grocery lists or me to write her name over and over and over. Mackenzie Stone. Mackenzie Louise Stone. Mackenzie...Shepherd. Mackenzie Shepherd. He shivered at his own longing. “Write down anything you want the concierge to get today for dinner--and anything else you want. They’ll deliver it this afternoon. I already texted Harris for you and told him you aren’t going to work.”

Kenzie took the paper and fountain pen from him, munching on her slices of clementine, her expression still turned to him, full of affection. “We could make dumplings too, I’m pretty good at them, Claire and I did them together one time and it’s fun to fold them.”

“I’ve made them before too, actually,” Duncan said, smiling shyly at her. “I’ve spent a lot of time cooking for myself since I turned 18 and moved out of my mother’s house. As soon as I moved in here I started buying cook books like crazy because I didn’t want to hire a chef. It made me...less lonely, I guess.”

Kenzie reached for him. He grasped her hand, tightly, emotion bubbling in him.

“I’m not lonely anymore, baby. I’m so far from lonely now that you’re here.”

“Good. I love you so much.” Kenzie leaned over the silver tray again, and their lips came together, deeply, with aching hunger. She tasted wonderfully sweet, the citrus falling into his mouth, the creamy taste of the avocado and the butter lingering there. “Ooo, how about green tea ice cream, too.”

“I love green tea ice cream.”

“Of course you do, because you have excellent taste.” She grinned at him, then turned down to write ingredients on the little paper, leaning over to grab her phone and find the recipe. He watched her quietly as she wrote, then paused to look at the phone screen where she’d pulled up a recipe website, reading carefully as she pressed the edge of the pen into her bottom lip, and Duncan wanted to pull her against him and kiss her more, wanted to push the tray away and press her down into the bed and pull the satin demandingly away from her shoulders and cup her roughly in his hands in the dappled sunlight over the bed--yesterday was so short. I long for you.

“I can’t wait for tonight, baby,” he murmured to her, unable to stop himself. “I can’t wait to tie you up in that lingerie.” He heard Kenzie’s breath catch and she paused her furious writing, lifting her eyes to him. He grasped the peony glass in his long fingers, lifting it to lips, his stare unwavering, taking a long mouthful, licking the tanginess from his lips, slowly. I’m going to devour you.

“I can’t wait to wear it for you, Prince Duncan.” At that, Kenzie went up on her knees and carefully pushed the tray aside, crawling over to him across the sheet--Duncan’s head went hazy-soft as Kenzie climbed into his lap, her legs straddling his thighs, the soft weight of her ass pressing into his crotch. She was so small in his arms--he was struck by it again, a wave of desire. His hands fell up and down the satin of the little pink-and-black-lace sleeping set he’d gotten for her, marveling at its softness on her, marveling at how perfectly it fit against her little body--staring into her hazel eyes, loving the sweet smell of her pressed to him.

“Ugh, baby, I don’t wanna go to work,” he whined. “Not at all. I wanna fuck you, baby, right now, I wanna kiss every inch of you.”

“Awwww, poor baby, my poor Dunny,” she murmured into him, pouting with a mocking smile. “My poor baby wants it real bad, huh. You wanna fuck me real bad, huh, baby.”

“Yes,” and at that Duncan clutched her more harshly into him, digging his fingers harshly into her skin, pressing his mouth roughly into her neck, sucking and biting. Kenzie moaned into him, turning her little head up, her hair falling back, and his hand fell down between the silkiness of her thighs, fondling at her folds there, feeling the mound of her sex over the slippery fabric that covered her. He whispered up into her ear, his nerves on fire. “Play with yourself when you’re here alone today, baby. Play with yourself and think about me. I’ll go somewhere alone and I’ll make myself come and I’ll think of you, I’ll think of how I’m gonna fuck you tonight, how hard I’m gonna fuck you, Princess, angel, baby--”

Kenzie was nodding and rolling her hips against him, her breath shallow, shivering at the feeling of his lips on her ear, her tiny hands coming up to grip at the stubble of his cheeks, fall into his hair. “Uh huh, okay, baby, I’ll make myself come--” she shuddered again, more violently, and Duncan gasped at the sweet feeling of her against him, “--and I’ll think of you, I promise--I’ll touch myself for you--I have this vibrator, I didn’t show you yet--”

“Ugh, baby. Show me.”

Kenzie continued to shiver in his arms--Duncan moved his face away from her neck and stared into her feverishly glimmering eyes. “Show me, baby, please. I wanna see it.”

Kenzie nodded, biting her lip, climbing off his lap, trailing her fingers down his thighs as he gazed at her face. That’s it, baby, get yourself worked up. I want you to think about what I’m gonna do to you tonight all day. I want you to be so wet while we make dinner that you can’t stop thinking about me fucking you on the counter, I want your panties to be soaked from your thoughts when you take them off to put that silky tulle on your beautiful skin. I want to tie you up and fuck you for hours tonight. Fuck you until we’re totally exhausted and can’t even move anymore. Fuck you until we can’t breathe. Fuck you until every part of us is so sensitive it hurts for us to touch each other and still we’ll touch anyway because to touch you is to be soothed by a goddess. Let me worship you. I’m gonna worship you.

Kenzie went to one of the boxes of her belongings that still clustered around the corner (Duncan watched the sway of her body in the little pink satin pyjamas, her legs bare, her hair over her shoulder, her expression suddenly dazed with arousal); she pulled books from one until she found the thing she was looking for--it looked like a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, but she opened the cover and Duncan realized it was a secret box made to look like a book, its interior hollow. She lifted out a small pink toy--one end had a rounded vibrating egg, and a short cord extended down from it to a battery square with a knob, climbing in intensity from 1 to 5. She turned the knob and Duncan could hear the small electric sound of the vibrator turning on. The egg end hummed against her hand.

“I’m gonna use this while you’re away today and when I come--and fuck, baby, this little thing makes me come so hard--I’m gonna scream your name, and think about what you’re going to do to me tonight.” Duncan could see that she was shivering as she said it, goosebumps lifting on her arms. His cock pressed into the tailored crotch of his chinos and he moaned to look at her, to hear what she was saying. Kenzie lowered the little egg between her legs, letting it press gently against the satin of her little pyjamas there, staring at him expectantly, still visibly shivering.

“Fuck, baby, I wanna watch--” Duncan couldn’t stop himself, fuck, I want to watch her use that on herself so fucking bad, but Kenzie bit her lip, her expression amused, shaking her head.

“No, baby. You have to be patient and wait and go to work. And at some point today when you’re alone, you have to touch yourself and think about my mouth on your cock, think about your cock fucking my pussy and my little ass, wet for you, and you have to stroke yourself until you come for me. And then we’re gonna make dinner together when you get home. And then you’re going to tie me up and buckle that fucking gorgeous rose choker tight around my neck and fuck me senseless. Do as I say, okay? Do what I told you to do, baby.”

“Yes, baby. Yes, Kenzie.” I could fucking die inside your eyes, Kenzie. I love it when you command me. I’ll tie you up but I’m your slave and I know you know that. I’d do anything you told me to do, baby. Divine and staggering in your beauty, my Kenzie, beloved angel of heaven.

Kenzie put the vibrator back into the hollowed book, setting it back into the box, a satisfied air to her now--she stood up very straight, completely awake now, sleep brushed away from her, and she climbed back onto the bed on the opposite side so he couldn’t grab onto her. Duncan reached for her but she said “No, Dunny, let me eat my breakfast.” And he stopped, his breath harsh, full of terrible crimson-gold-flushed waves of need for her. She stared into his eyes--the golden nebula of her soul--and lifted the clementines to her lips, and devoured them until none were left, and he did not look away, trapped in her gaze--no, not trapped, he thought, aching. Completely supplicant to her. I don’t want to be away from her. I want to stay inside her eyes always, for her gaze is sanctity in my sight. I am your most faithful, devoted lover, Mackenzie. Whatever you will--it is my desire to realize it. I’m yours until I lie in my grave, feeding flowers that will grow in your honor.

-------

Duncan was slipping the balmorals on his feet as Kenzie carefully moved the little silver dishes to the sink to rinse them, still wearing her little satin sleeping set--Duncan already loved it fiercely, and knew the image of her wearing it would grow to be ingrained in him with time, a certain memory of many days to come. “Is it okay to put vintage silver in the dishwasher?” she asked, turning her head around to him, holding up the little bowl with dogberries along the side.

“It is, actually, just put them in without any other dishes and run the cycle by itself,” Duncan replied, smiling at her attention to detail. “I’ll ask Anchaly to tell the housekeepers to skip us today so you have privacy.”

“Okay, baby,” Kenzie replied softly, moving away from the sink and coming up to where he stood at the table beside the front door, pushing his wallet down into the back of his fitted chinos, a pair of squarish Gucci sunglasses he’d chosen for today in his hand. “Have a very--” and here she leaned up, her long chestnut hair brushed out now and floating around her in delicate waves, her little feet tiptoeing to reach his face, kissing his stubbled cheek before he could turn his face into hers--”good--” and now she pressed a kiss to the other cheek--”day--” and she finally let him gather her against him now, tenderly pressing her open mouth against his, and Duncan wrapped his arms around her, greedy for the scent and taste and feeling of her against him, the satiny texture of her little pyjamas, the soft fall of her hair and her arms and her tongue brushing against his.

“It’s so hard to leave you, every fucking time--” he whispered into her, his voice aching in his ears, and he felt it in his bones, how true the words were.

“Baby, just think about how fucking wonderful tonight’s going to be. And text me when you’re alone later. I want to know when you’re thinking about me.”

“Kenzie, I am always thinking about you.”

She smiled into him. “Don’t forget to give Anchaly that list. When do you think you’ll be home?”

Home. Home is when I’m with you, Kenzie. We could be anywhere and if you’re there, it’s home.

“5 at the latest, I think. We don’t have too much to do today, the news has been slow--well, except for you and me, I guess, baby.”

“Claire texted me, BPF posted all the stuff we put on Instagram on their website already. They should be giving us royalties or something.” Kenzie rolled her eyes, but Duncan could see the smile in them. That’s right world, we’re together, get used to it, he thought, smiling in return to her. Then he grew serious again for a moment, lost in thoughts of Shepherd Unlimited and the soon-to-be-defunct Gardner Analytics.

“I’m wondering when I should tell Melody I’m planning to dismantle the show and the app when I take over for my uncle. She’s done a lot of work on them and I don’t think she’s going to be happy about it. Of course I plan to rehire her for another position in the company if she wants one, but…”

“I guess there’s a possibility she’d be upset enough to tell Annette about your plans.” Kenzie went down on her heels, leaning away from him.

“A very real possibility. I feel bad for concealing it from her, though. As I said, she’s worked hard on them. But Mom messaged me yesterday--my uncle is getting sicker faster than the doctors originally thought. Apparently he’s going to be in confinement by the end of the month. Which means I’m going to be taking over a lot sooner than we originally thought.”

A serious expression came into Kenzie’s eyes. “So that means Momby and I would be going on the board a lot sooner, too.”

“Yes. Probably by the end of next month.”

Kenzie blew out a long breath, and Duncan stood before her, his hand falling down the waves of hair over her shoulder. Kenzie is so fucking beautiful. Baby, you look like a fucking angel right now, in your little pink satin, your hair silky-soft down your back, your little face scrunched up so serious. Your eyes are like fucking stars. And you’re mine. And I still can’t believe it.

Then Kenzie nodded, as though she’s felt or heard his tenderness. She probably did. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it, baby. We’ll get through everything. I have such a hopeful feeling inside me every day now. Like something fell into place and now everything is moving, traveling on into the future.”

“I feel that way too, baby. Like our destiny is in motion. I love you. I’ll see you later tonight.” He lifted her face up to him with the tips of his fingers and kissed her once more, open-mouthed, closing his eyes, and he saw when he opened them and pulled away that Kenzie’s were still closed and her mouth still open just a little in a rapturous visage of desire, and he thought she looks like the Ecstacy of St. Theresa, glowing in the light of an angel, only she is the angel, the angel is her, and the ecstacy is mine. As Duncan went out into the hall, he turned around and saw her little face peeking at him through the doorway for a moment, then she smiled and blew him a kiss, and Duncan pretended to catch it in midair and pressed his hand against his heart, turning away from her, recalcitrant, as the door swung shut, slipping his dark sunglasses over his eyes.

-------

Duncan was drifting through the day--he had stayed tight-lipped at the paps who were hanging out outside Shepherd Hall (“Where’d you go on your baecation this weekend, Duncan?” Gary Spencer had called out to him as Ricky Aspen (Gary’s token photographer) snapped his camera, angled at Duncan’s face) and Duncan had shot daggers toward him, pressing his lips together defiantly) despite their insistence. He had tried to appear interested in the episode overview and the charts regarding the apps “numbers”, but he was utterly absorbed in the thought of Kenzie’s promise to use the little pink egg on herself (I’m gonna scream your name); his thoughts made him feel too hot, his mind smoky and thick, his groin throbbing and aching, making him shift in his seat, restless to be alone. Seth and Melody continually gave him sidelong glances over the long conference table as Richard, one of the showrunners, rambled on about Claire’s prolonged breakdown, entering its fourth week. Annette was probably expecting him at another meeting today, this one regarding finishing details about the Gala, but Duncan bristled at the thought of seeing her, angry at her treatment of Kenzie on Saturday--storming out on her like a child when you insisted on consuming her day. And none of you know I’m secretly meeting with Claire Underwood on Thursday, best to keep it that way, Duncan thought, shifting again, trying to refocus on something that wasn’t the dip of Kenzie’s pale skin around her throat, the softness of the space behind her jaw under her ear where he liked to press his fingers, continually amazed by how delicate she was, or the space between her breasts where he could feel her heartbeat if he pressed his lips there, or the sweet ache between her legs (me pressing my lips there yesterday as I held her legs apart and sucked at her and she cried out for me over and over, fuck, or my come falling down the side of her mouth as she sucked me dry), but dipped back down into the endlessness of her, the whirling storm of her. God, when will this meeting be fucking over. Everything is a waiting game now. None of you know what I’m going to do when Bill dies. And he’s going to die soon.

“How long, exactly, do you think it will take for the paps to not be swarming around here every single day like we’re Beyonce’s entourage, Duncan?” Melody leaned over the table, and Duncan looked up from where he’d been gazing into space, imagining Kenzie in her little satin pyjamas, straddling his lap, murmuring into his mouth. He hadn’t noticed when the meeting adjourned, and some of the other crew for the show had already left the conference room--Richard was staring at him from the head of it, a frown creasing his brow.

I guess we’re back to not being friends. Duncan sat up, blinking at her, crashing down from his heavenly imaginings. “Melody, what the fuck, may I ask, would you like me to do about it?”

“I dunno, maybe stop posting photos of your half-clothed girlfriend on Instagram every day?”

Duncan looked over at Seth, whose eyes skirted away from both of them as if there was something extremely interesting going on outside the window. Duncan felt a flare of anger course down the back of his skull, felt his teeth clench at the insinuating tone of Melody’s voice. Everyone’s obsessed with Kenzie, and I understand why, but god, I hate the idea of people wishing her ill. I hate the idea of anyone thinking cruelly towards her. When it came to Kenzie, he wished he could surround her in an impenetrable cocoon of safety, an invisible barrier between her and all the evil intentions of the outside world. She’s my Joan of Arc--far too wonderful, too brave, too bright for any of you.

“I’ll post photos of her whenever the fuck I feel like it in whatever the fuck she happens to be wearing. Lay the fuck off, Melody.” Melody’s eyes flashed at him and she shoved out of her seat, yanking the conference room door open and stalking out.

“Duncan,” Seth was the only other person in the room now besides him, Richard having made a beeline for the door as soon as Melody had shot her venomous question at Duncan. “Be forgiving of her. She’s...I don’t know how happy she is with the work lately, to be honest. And I have to say this, because it should have been said a long time ago, but Melody has been in love with you for...years, and seeing you with someone else this way is just...a lot for her.”

“Seth, what.” Fuck, I should have realized that. I did realize that. I knew she was. But I have never felt that way about her and god, that night I was fucking hammered out of my mind, and I knew it was a mistake right away. But my apology was late, wasn’t it. Really late. Fuck. And I convinced myself I was imagining that she was romantically interested in me. I pretended like I didn’t know because I was trying not to hurt her feelings. But somehow I’ve done that anyway.

“I agree that you don’t have any obligation to engage emotionally with someone who you don’t share the same affections with,” Seth said, carefully. “And for all intents and purposes you seem to have issued the apology she was looking for--but just forgive her, I guess, is what I’m saying. Melody and I have spent a lot of time together, and…” Seth trailed off.

“You care about her.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Seth looked at him, and Duncan was surprised to see how much warmth was hiding behind his eyes. In fact, Duncan thought, it seems as though you might, in fact, be the one who loves her, huh, Seth?

“Seth. Don’t worry. I’m not going to fire her if that’s what you think. There are...changes on the horizon for this company. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, at least to a certain extent. I’m going to have the power to move the people in this company where they will be most happy and well-placed. And I really do mean happy, Seth. Soon, Melody will have her pick of where she wants to be regarding Shepherd Unlimited. I give you my word.”

Seth was quiet for a long time; he seemed to regard Duncan with a mixture of suspicion and wary vulnerability.

“Duncan, you’ve really changed lately.”

“I know it. God, I fucking know it.”

“It’s that woman, isn’t it. The woman you’re with now. Mackenzie Stone.”

“Yes, Seth. It is her. She’s made me the happiest man on earth. I want to spread it outward and give it to others, too. It’s like I...I really understand that I have too much now. And it needs to be shared.”

“If I’d heard you say something like that a year ago, I think I would’ve thought you’d gone the way of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Annette must be absolutely nonplussed.”

“She is. It’s been interesting to attempt to navigate all of this with her.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Go comfort Melody.”

Seth slid up from his chair and gave him one last long look, then nodded. “Mr. Shepherd.” Then he smiled a little, and Duncan smiled back at him, lifting his water glass to his mouth as Seth left the room. Duncan waited for the door to click shut, then he stood and went to it, snapping the lock into position. Then he went to the second door to the room across the other side of the table and snapped the lock there too. Duncan pulled the blinds of the long office windows down carefully. Next, he went to a side-table that had a box of tissues atop it, pulling several out and gripping them in his hand, then he sat back down in the chair he’d been in for the past half hour, setting the tissues on the smooth surface of the conference table, carefully unbuckling his belt. He went to his text messages and typed to Kenzie.

I’m alone now baby. Can’t stop thinking about you in my lap like that. Can’t stop thinking about putting that rose choker around your soft little white neck. Can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you’re going to look in that white lingerie. I’ve been lost in thoughts of you all day. Just totally lost to you, baby.

He saw the telltale text bubbles pop up underneath almost immediately.

Baby, I’m taking my clothes off for you now, laying down on the bed for you. Are you touching yourself yet?

Duncan set his phone down on the table in front of him and finished unbuckling his belt, pulling down the button and zipper of his chinos, slipping a warm hand down into the waistband of his tight briefs, bringing his rigid cock up so it was standing to attention, pressing into his stomach with the waistband holding it there. He grasped his hand over it and turned his phone towards his unbuttoned crotch and the fist over the head of his cock. He snapped the photo and sent it to her, adding a short bit of text: Yes, baby.

The text bubbles appeared again.

Show me, baby. Take a picture of your bare hard cock for me so I can look at it while I press that egg into my clit, baby, god it feels fucking good, almost as good as when you’re fucking me. I have it right here beside me on the bed now, and I’m naked, I took off everything I was wearing and laid here for you. I’m waiting for you to tell me I can start.

Fuck, Duncan thought. Fuck, Kenzie, you are the most erotic, the most alluring, the most exquisite person I have ever met. You’re so goddamn fucking beautiful. I keep trying to find words for you but they haven’t been invented yet. You’re beyond my dreams--you’re the only person I will ever truly love and I know it with every part of me. Duncan’s thumb slid over the precum that was already leaking from the head of his cock, slathering it along the sensitive underside of where his shaft began, and jerked his hand along the length, down about halfway. He angled his phone’s camera on his crotch again, moving his hand, pushing his pants and briefs down further so its hardness, its thick need, was exposed. He moved his hand along the precum again, wetting his cock’s length. Then he took the photo and hit send; his large hand was pressed to the side of his erection, so though only half of it was exposed in his waistband, the evidence of his length was apparent. Start now, baby, he added in text underneath. Think about how I’m gonna fuck you long and hard in a few hours and you’re gonna watch me do it in all your glorious beauty.

Duncan felt dizzy as he dragged his fingers along his length in the quiet conference room. Kenzie thinking about me fucking her raw as she works at her clit in our bed, her little naked body lying on top of the duvet, her legs spread, her hair tossed into the pillow, her head turned up and her eyes fluttering and her mouth open with need, like holy fucking fuck, baby, my fucking angel, my beloved, wild and sublime, my goddess in the throes of her desires.

Nothing from her end for a minute--Duncan jerked needily at his cock under his briefs, little moans falling out of his mouth as he read her texts to come before--baby, I’m taking my clothes off for you now. Then a photo came through his phone--Kenzie staring into the camera, bare neck and the roundness of her little breasts exposed, one of her hands clutched between them, the other lifting the phone to take the photo, her nipples hard, an expression of need on her face, her eyes heavy-lidded and her lips parted just a little. You have to come, okay, baby? You have to touch yourself until you come. Think about how you fucked my tight little ass the other night, baby, made me dissolve into screams of ecstasy under your hands, Dunny baby, stared into my eyes as you did, made me look at you, fuck, made me look into your sky eyes, my love.

Fuck, angel, he replied, typing carefully with his thumb as he worked at himself, biting into his lip as the sensations riding through his cock rose in intensity. This picture. I’m going to keep it forever, a secret just for me. God, baby, you look so fucking gorgeous. I can’t wait to see you, I’m going to kiss every part of you, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, angel baby.

Kenzie: I want you to spank me tonight. I want you to spank me hard when I’m tied up, spank me and grab my neck and choke me because I’m yours. I want you to do it, baby. Do as I tell you, okay? I’m gonna tell you to spank me and I want you to do it until I tell you to stop. Please, baby. I want it. I want you to be rough with me.

Okay, baby. I will, he replied, shuddering under his own grip on his length. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Duncan imagined Kenzie’s little mewling cries as his hands came down hard against her soft skin, the keening of her hips as she fell against his palms, the pressure of her little neck under his hand as he clasped her with demanding fingers. Whatever you want baby, whatever makes you feel good, he typed, I’d do it a thousand times if you told me to, your pleasure is everything to me. Are you using it on yourself?

Kenzie: Yes, baby, god I’m so wet for you and it’s making me fucking ache for you, you’ve been so patient and I wanna make you feel so good tonight, I wanna give you all of myself, my body totally at your mercy my beloved, my sweet beautiful Prince, baby.

Duncan felt the shudder of his orgasm rising and he snatched the tissues from the table, bringing them carefully along the underside of his cock, emptying himself into them, gasping into the force of his release, leaning over the chair as he came, his body wracked for a moment with the force of it. “Uhh, Kenzie, baby, Kenzie--” Fuckkk. He looked down at his phone again as he gasped, and saw Kenzie had texted him again--Fuck baby, I just came so hard, I screamed for you like I told you I would, I’m lying here, shuddering and naked and thinking only of you in our bed and your big beautiful hands and your big gorgeous cock and your beautiful mouth and your eyes like the sky full of storms, I need you, Duncan, I need you and I’m aching for you baby.

Duncan used the tissues to carefully wipe the dampness from his crotch, wincing a little, crumpling them in his hand, carefully pushing his now-sensitive cock back down into his briefs, buttoning and zipping his pants, standing on shaking limbs to toss the tissues into a nearby trash can, then turned back to his phone and typed. Fuck, Kenzie, I need YOU, I need you every minute, I can’t think of anything but you, everything is you, the sky and the stars and the moon and the ocean yesterday was you and every flower and every beautiful thing is only half as beautiful as you, your eyes are like gold-flecked galaxies and your hair is like liquid sunlight and your mouth is sweeter than any fruit to me, and the space between your legs sweeter than the nectar of any god, your body so small and exquisite under my hands every time you give yourself to me. I came with your name on my lips because I belong to you forever and when I see you tonight I’m going to make you feel it, going to give you every bit of my devotion, going to press wild prayers into your body.

He hit send. Then he typed I love you, I love you, I love you.

Kenzie: And I love you, until the last star fades.

Until the last star fades.

He typed again. See you in a few hours, baby. I’m going to make you feel so wonderful. I swear I will, on everything, on the sun and the moon and the stars and the universe inside your eyes.

Kenzie: Baby, you already do, you’re my beloved, exalted in my eyes. See you soon. She left a long line of lipstick stain emojis after it.

Exalted. Something about the word was so familiar and so comforting. It was the best word to describe how he felt to be around her. Exalted: lifted up, held high in esteem. Blessed by your eyes, blessed by your thoughts, your touch, your grace, your love, Kenzie. Exalted in the eyes of a goddess. How could anything ever be so beautiful.

Duncan unlocked the door, took a deep, shuddering breath, and went to wash his hands.

------

The meeting for the Gala was unbearably tedious and redundant, and Duncan had stayed tight-lipped at his mother’s angry expression when she saw him--she had glared at him across yet another conference table, this one in a Shepherd Hall room a few floors up from the one they used for the show downstairs, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Duncan had gazed off her right shoulder into space instead, hand trailing along his jaw, his thoughts on Kenzie in the red dress he’d bought her at Nancy’s shop, redoubled on his imaginings of flowers in her hair, thought blushingly of his imaginings of their wedding, the hundreds of flowers surrounding them, the delicate moonstone on her finger, crystals and white and pink roses twined through her hair, a dress made of yards of lace and tulle, a delicate dress only a goddess would wear. I’ll get her peonies today, he thought, as soon as this fucking meeting is over, peonies to replace her roses that are slowly wilting, I’ll always make sure she has fresh flowers now, the goddess of spring can’t be without her flowers. Kenzie wants a garden, but I swear her touch alone could make things grow, pull verdant art from the ground.

Annette had approached him after, about to say something biting, no doubt, her mouth opening in a downwards tilt (she’d been wearing a black cashmere wrap dress with a sash and low pointed black heels, her neck bare, as usual), but Duncan had leaned down to her, kissing her cheek (he felt her stiffen in surprise, felt her anger melt under his touch), and then he turned away. “Duncan--” Annette had said after him, but he noticed the biting tone he’d expected to hear from her expression seemed to have faltered, and his name came out softer, more confused, from the back of her throat.

“I love you, Mom,” was all he’d said, stopping for moment, his back still turned to her, and then he’d walked away from her, and she hadn’t tried to follow him. I love you, but I won’t suffer your ill will towards her. I simply won’t do it. You will come to understand that. Already I feel as though this company is in my hands. I can feel the future coming, it’s nearly the present. It’s nearly here, its weight falling down on me, and I can’t do this without her by my side, it simply can’t become without her. Nothing of me can be without our destinies tied as they are. And this company will become nothing if we don’t change it. The Fates have already set in motion the thread of the events to come, I feel it acutely, it’s being spun now and soon, when Uncle BIll dies, it will be alloted. He could feel the ways in which Annette was fighting against that thread--could feel his mother trying to snap it, trying to stop it somehow, but Duncan knew that his destiny, now as clear as crystal, could not be broken by the will of Annette Shepherd. As he slid into the backseat of the BMW a few minutes later, he smiled up at Samuel, whose good humor was as bright as a warm lantern in the dark today, Ella on the stereo (I love the looks of you, the lure of you, the sweet of you, the pure of you, the eyes, the arms, the mouth of you) the interior of the car very cool and even compared to the hot June day outside, the sky full of cumulus clouds.

“I’ll be requesting that we stop at English Rose Garden very often in the future, Samuel,” Duncan added to Samuel as they glided away from the curb, having asked his chauffeur to make a stop there now. He took his sunglasses off to look Samuel in the eyes through the rearview, evenly. “I want Kenzie to always have fresh flowers in the house. She told me her dream is to have a garden house. If I can’t give her a garden yet, I’m determined to bring the garden to her.”

“That’s lovely, Mr. Shepherd. She’s like a garden herself, isn’t she.” Samuel’s eyes skirted between him and the road. “To be near her is to feel flowers around your heart.”

“Exactly, Samuel. Exactly.”

“I’ve heard Mr. Bill is not very well these days, Mr. Shepherd.”

Samuel glanced at him in the mirror, then back at the road. Duncan hesitated, hand moving up to his chin. You know you can trust Samuel. He’s been your closest confidant since you were still in a car booster seat.

“Samuel, I want you to know that I plan to reorganize this company. I know I can trust you to tell you this--I trust you with my life. Kenzie and I are...we’re going to make Shepherd Unlimited into something that will help the world. I want you to know that.”

Samuel suddenly laughed--his face had broken out into a radiant smile, and it made Duncan laugh too. Kenzie has made me realize that to spread joy is the greatest of all emotions, the strongest and the most lasting.

“Duncan,” and to hear Samuel call him by his first name brought pinpricks of emotion into Duncan’s eyes--Samuel hadn’t called him that for years, not since he was a child. “Duncan. To hear you say this makes me so happy. I am speechless. Mackenzie has kindled your best self. I am moved beyond words to see this change in you. Love is truly everything.”

Duncan felt a tear fall down his cheek. So what. Let Samuel see. I’m moved beyond words, too. It was all he could do to nod at the other man, nod and smile and feel the depth of this moment, sure inside it that Samuel was right, that love was everything; the only thing.

------

It was a little after 5; Duncan was finally at the penthouse door, a wildly beautiful bouquet of pink-and-white peonies under his arm--he felt like his body was vibrating to finally be home, finally be within close proximity to her embrace. Kenzie had posted several pictures on her Instagram throughout the day, tagging him in all of them--one of them with the sunlight over her shoulder, succulents along the kitchen window behind her (our little garden @duncanshepherd), one of the three photos he’d found in one of her boxes, clustered together on the bathroom wall now (he could tell from the light fixtures and the corner of Kenzie’s face which was visible from the angle that caught the side of the mirror beside the framed pictures), Kenzie with Momby, with Claire at Disneyland, and with her father. I just need one of us here now, @duncanshepherd. There was another of three of her little china birds (a robin, a partridge, a raven) all clustered on Duncan’s study desk, around his expensive fountain pens and a heavy paperweight in the shape of Atlas, holding up the Earth. To keep him company @duncanshepherd. Another of her sun and moon chimes, now hanging near one of the reading chairs in the living room, the expanse from his long picture window visible from behind them. Up in the clouds with @duncanshepherd.

Now everyone will know we’re living together, he thought. And instead of feeling apprehensive, Duncan felt a thrill. That’s fucking right. We are. Now you know Mom, now you know Madeline, now you know, World.

“Kenzie,” he called into the penthouse as he opened the door. “Baby, I’m home, where--” and suddenly he saw her racing toward him from the sink, a radiant smile in her eyes, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, her mouth falling against his (“baby, baby, baby,” she breathed into him), and she tasted like mint and smelled like roses and Duncan thought oh god, thank the gods, thank you, relief washing over him to be in her arms again. Kenzie was wearing a white, lacy strap-sleeve top (one of the straps hung down low off her shoulder, like her satin pyjamas last night), cropped just below her ribcage and coming down in a V over her little bosom--Duncan saw the moon diamond necklace there, heart racing--and a floor-length dark navy skirt with bursts of red flowers that seemed to float into him as she wrapped herself against him; Duncan lifted her up into him with his arm clutched around the bottom of her back, lost in her kisses for a long moment, her hair falling against his cheeks as if to kiss them too--she’s so small in my arms, he thought again, and not just that, but her trust in me is what I feel--her trust in me to hold her how she wants to be held, to touch her just so, to speak the secret language into her skin that one the two of us know. He set her down, but their lips didn’t part--Kenzie brought her hands up to his jaw and held him down against her, and he had to fight the sudden urge to toss the peonies to the floor and rip the clothes off her body right there.

“I saw that your roses were wilting--” he spoke into her mouth, pulling back--”and these reminded me of you so much--of that little water glass.” He watched Kenzie’s face, the brightness of it as her eyes widened over the clusters of soft-hued flowers, hair in her eyes, and she said “Ohh, Duncan. These are lovely. Thank you, baby. I--I really love them.” He saw the tears at the edges of her eyes and pressed another insistent kiss into her--”I just wanna buy you flowers every day now, baby--” and Kenzie laughed and the diamonds around her neck flashed and Duncan couldn’t help it, he reached his hand up and grasped it and rested his skin against her over her heart there and his other hand fell down over the back of her hair and he tried to kiss her again but she turned her face so his lips fell on her face, right on the space beside her eye and she murmured “Baby, you can buy me as many flowers as you want, I love them so much, it’s like I have a garden here, kiss me, kiss my neck baby--” and Duncan moaned into her softness and said “Kenzie, I missed you so much today,” and moved his mouth down to the space below her ear and then down to the dip of her little neck into her shoulder and he lifted her up into him again with the flowers still in her arms the better to reach her.

“How was your day?” She gasped into his touch, and Duncan lifted her back down, again, reluctantly, his mind full of bursts of bright need for her. “Ugh, it was the longest day of all time, except for when we were texting--” Kenzie pulled away from him, stepping back while she stared at him for another moment, arms full of flowers, and he could see the mischief in her eyes--baby is gonna get me worked up first, I see, be patient, Duncan. He moved towards her as she turned away from him, going under the sink where he knew she’d seen him get the other vase--there were several others there, another crystal Waterford and three of varying size, painted in gold leaf, their lips artistically wavy. Kenzie leaned down to one of the gold vases and pulled it out, lifting the peonies out of their soft paper wrapping and arranging them inside it on the counter, using the tap (turning the filter attachment) to fill it with water--Duncan’s hands came around her, and he pressed his cheek into the side of her head, his stomach against her back, still full of wild relief to be close to her again. “--I loved that, baby.”

“I did too,” Kenzie said in a quiet voice, but he could hear her delight, hovering just around the edges. She turned to him with the vase in her arms. Duncan pulled his phone out of his chinos, quickly, and snapped a picture of her before she could protest--Kenzie seemed unable to suppress a laugh at his eagerness, and he managed to catch it, her little head dipped down and her grin apparent. My Persephone. @kenzielouwho

“I had such a wonderful day, baby,” Kenzie said, moving around the island to the coffee table, setting the peonies beside the roses. “I got everything else unpacked and called Momby and told her we’re living together now--she seemed surprised but also...sort of okay with it? ”

“I saw your pictures--we definitely need to put one of us with your framed photos, baby. Madeline’s been so good with everything,” Duncan said, going to the fridge and pulling it open--it seemed to contain everything they needed for dinner (pork shoulder, bok choy, mushrooms, broccoli, carrots, zucchini, eggs, green onions), so it was obvious the groceries Kenzie had written down and Duncan had given to Anchaly on his way downstairs that morning had been delivered without a hitch. Duncan turned to the island, where Kenzie had laid out what looked like most of the cooking supplies they would need for dinner: a skinny rolling pin for the dumplings, several large mixing bowls, two cutting boards, Duncan’s kanso knives, and a frying pan for the dumplings as well as his copper wok--spices were lined there too, soy sauce (tamari and light) and garlic cloves and a long ginger root, sesame and olive oil, sriracha, and rice wine. “This is lovely, baby, thanks for setting everything out like this.”

“In anticipation of the evening,” she replied, coming back over to him and staring up at him--the sun hadn’t set yet, so the cool, low light of the the early evening was still illuminating the kitchen, but Duncan saw the lengthening shadows fall over her, through her hair.

“You look beautiful today,” Duncan said, reaching for her, gathering her against him, breathing in her scent. “Oh Kenzie, baby, I’m so glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re home too,” she whispered into him, her little hands skirting under his shirt, falling against his bare torso there, and he leaned into her touch, his lips on her forehead. “Let’s make dinner, okay?”

“I’m making the dumplings,” Duncan said. “I have to prove to you I can actually cook.” Kenzie laughed and nodded. “Okay, but I expect only the best, baby.” “Challenge accepted.”

Kenzie moved to the fridge as Duncan rolled up his sleeves, and she started to pass him the fresh vegetables--he pulled out one of his knives (“Kenz, you should see how great these knives are, watch,”) and started on the pork shoulder, slicing it into tiny tenderized morsels and tossing them in a clear glass mixing bowl beside him for the dumpling filling.

“Wow, baby, you weren’t kidding that you’ve made those before,” Kenzie marvelled, watching him work swiftly at the vegetables, chopping the green onion and garlic cloves and ginger root deftly, tossing them into the bowl as well. “Can I put on some music?” She looked up at him as he worked, her eyes shining, and he paused with the knife. “Baby, you don’t need to ask. This is your house. Everything here belongs to you.” With that Kenzie flitted away from him, that mischievous glint back in her eyes--and as Duncan finished combining the dumpling ingredients, he heard a jumping guitar line with heavy drums come over the speakers, a sultry masculine voice with a British accent bleeding in: I don’t want to go out, I want to stay in, get things done...he could hear Kenzie’s little voice coming back through the living room, singing along in lovely harmonization. She pointed at him playfully, using her fist as a pseudo microphone as he grinned at her, stirring the bowl with a long wooden spoon. “I catch a paper boy, but things don’t really change, I’m standing in the wind, but I never wave bye-bye--but I try, I try!” She wiggled her hips back and forth and tossed her hair and Duncan had to fight the urge to drop the bowl and grab her and press his mouth on hers. Fuck, I love this girl.

“This album is so hot,” Kenzie said, hopping around him, her skirt swirling around her legs, pulling more vegetables out of the fridge and bringing them over to the second cutting board to chop beside him. He leaned down to her and pressed a kiss into her mouth for a moment, stopping himself from tasting deeper even though he wanted to. One thing at a time. “It makes you want to dance and fuck at the same time. Ugh, I love it. You have such a great record collection, baby.”

Duncan smiled at her. “If you notice anything that’s missing from it make sure you get it with that card I gave you, baby. I know it has some holes still.”

“Well, I noticed you don’t have all of Stevie’s solo albums, which is just not acceptable.” Kenzie was still wiggling her hips to Modern Love, and Duncan could see her toes doing the little lift and twist-out that seemed to be her tick.

“You know what to do, Kenz. Did you ever do ballet?”

“For all of elementary and middle school, yeah. I realized I was never going to be really good at it, my center of gravity is too low,” and Kenzie slapped a hand against her hip, indicating her natural curves there, “but old habits and all that.” Duncan watched her press one foot in front of the other at a side-angle, then move her arms from a low position to above her head, gracefully, turning up onto the balls of her feet, grinning at him.

“Fucking lovely,” he said, sincerely.

“Oh shut up, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie started chopping the vegetables, blushing deeply--Duncan could see the light sunburn on her cheeks from yesterday had already almost faded entirely, so the blush was her own. They grew quiet together, Duncan mixing the dumpling ingredients together in another bowl (flour, salt, boiling water), and Kenzie going to the streamlined stovetop to cook the eggs, then add them to the wok and toss the chopped vegetables in sequences--the garlic and onion, then the rest with the quinoa, using one of Duncan’s many long wooden spoons to toss it all. Duncan watched her in glances between kneading out the dough, then rolling it into round portions, spooning the filling into each one and pressing the edges together--Kenzie looked at him over her shoulder, her expression clearly surprised at how quickly and carefully he could fold them together.

“These are so easy to make, I’ve done them for dinner so many times,” Duncan said, a little embarrassed at her wondrous expression. “I still like ordering takeout, but teaching myself how to do these was one of my “adulting” milestones,” he laughed a little at himself, knowing it was true, and Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Getting away from mom’s constant hovering was one of the other big ones.” Her face softened at that, and she turned back to the wok. Duncan came up beside her with the dumplings lined carefully on the cutting board, frying pan in his other hand. As she tossed the quinoa he pressed his mouth into the side of her hair again, and Duncan felt her lean into him, her eyes fluttering closed. He doused the center of the pan with olive oil and let it warm for a moment, then lined the dumplings neatly in a swirling pattern with a pair of long chopsticks. He noticed Kenzie still watching him out of the corner of her eye, her expression bright--aroused. I didn’t know you could cook so well, baby, he heard her thought, the glow of it. God, it’s fucking sexy. You’re fucking perfect. The most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen and you can cook like that. And you have your own jet. And you have a big cock and eyes like the sky and your beautiful hands exploring me the way they do and your hair falling so perfectly and your mouth and the sweetness of your soul--

He pressed himself against her, hands roughly coming up to her neck and under her breast, the dumplings forgotten for a moment--”You better stop thinking about me like that, baby--” he moaned into her mouth, and Kenzie arched up into him, dropping the wooden spoon into the wok, her hands coming down to his belt to pull at it insistently, “or you can fucking forget about dinner. I’m fucking dying for you, Kenzie--”

“Shhhh, sorry baby, I’ll try to quiet down,” she whispered into him and her mouth was so wet and soft he wanted to force the waistband of her skirt down and bury his face between her legs right there, but she gently pushed him away and dutifully turned back to the wok, her face flushed, Bowie’s elegant voice ringing overhead (see these eyes so green, I can stare for a thousand years, colder than the moon, it’s been so long). Duncan willed himself down from his ardor and turned the electric off, using the long chopsticks to move the dumplings into two shallow black bowls. Kenzie’s quinoa fried rice seemed to be done, too--she flipped the switch on her side off as well and pulled a ladle from the wall where several utensils hung elegantly, moving carefully in front of him (Duncan reached a hand out and trailed it along her waist) to dish a healthy serving into each bowl beside the dumplings.

“Oh my god, this we have to take a picture of,” she said excitedly, pulling her phone out of one of the deep pocket hidden in the skirt. Duncan watched over her shoulder, as she chose a filter, smiling down at her screen--their handiwork really did look delicious.

“Pinot noir?” He asked, hiding how happy her eagerness made him. “It’s my favorite to pair with dumplings.”

“That sounds perfect, baby,” and he could see her typing a caption onto the post; Our first time cooking together, but you wouldn’t fucking know it!!! @duncanshepherd is secretly a master chef! I ain’t bad either. Duncan went into the study and pulled the glass door of his wine box open, selecting a hundred-dollar bottle from the temperature-controlled interior, a five-year vintage. When he emerged from the study, Kenzie was carefully stepping towards the bedroom, their shallow bowls in her hands, two pairs of chopsticks visible in her hand underneath one of them, two of his Linsmore Waterford wine glasses carefully tucked into the crook of her arm. He leaned his hand carefully over her and pulled them out of her grasp by the stems.

“I wanna eat in the bedroom, baby,” she said, eyes steady on him. “I wanna stare into our mirror and think about what we’re gonna do to each other.”

“Fuck, Kenzie,” and he laughed a little again. “You are killing me, baby. I beg of you, end my suffering.”

“Even Princes must be patient,” she replied, and turned away from him, angling her chin up.

This fucking angel. I’m gonna get you, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so good.

By the time Duncan came back in the bedroom with a bottle opener and a small tablecloth to drape on top of the sheets, Kenzie was in the bed, the bowls balanced carefully on her bare thighs--she’d taken her skirt off and was now in only her little lacy crop top and her underwear, the diamonds still glittering at her neck, her hair falling over her shoulder. An ache fell over him to look at her--god, fuck, so soon, hang on a little longer.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said as she got up slowly to let him lay the linen down. He continued to stare at her as he opened the wine bottle, carefully pouring the dark liquid into the glasses, handing one to her after she settled again, their fingers brushing. He saw her eyes skirt back behind him, watching them in the glass of the mirror, looking at the glinting hook and chain that seemed to stare at them, waiting. Kenzie took a long drink, her throat bobbing as she swallowed twice, and leaned back to place the glass on the other nightstand.

“So are you,” she whispered. The record had stopped--the quiet hung around them, not unpleasant but deeply anticipatory, charged with their mutual desire--he could feel it coming off Kenzie is long, rolling golden waves, and he felt drunk already though he hadn’t even had a sip of the wine yet. “I was thinking of that night we went to Le Diplomate, all those roses in the bathtub--god, baby, that was such a wonderful night.”

“Every night feels like that now that you’re here,” he said, and Kenzie didn’t reply, only smiled at him, her eyes forest-bright, using one of her chopsticks to pop a dumpling into her mouth. “Fuck, Dunny, these are so fucking good,” she said, bringing a hand up over her mouthful as she spoke. “Can you make me some with chicken next time?”

Duncan laughed, untying his shoes and pulling them off, climbing onto the bed next to her, hand on her knee. This girl fucking loves chicken. My Kenzie. “Of course baby, you should have put it on the list. I would have made them for you tonight. I’ll make you anything you want, angel.”

“You’re my angel,” and Kenzie leaned up so her little ass was hovering in the air, and she kissed him and Duncan thought dinner can’t be over soon enough, baby. As they ate Kenzie told him about where she’d put all the things she’d unpacked today--going over the nuances of her thinking with him, and Duncan loved every moment of it--the excitement in her voice, the smile on her face, the movements of her hands as she waved them around to her words. “I wonder what Ben’s going to ask you tomorrow?” she said, cocking her head as she popped the last dumpling in her bowl into her mouth. Duncan had finished his food a moment before and was drinking a long mouthful from his wine glass--they were on their second round by now.

“No doubt something very invasive. I plan to be honest with him, but I was thinking of asking him to wait to publish the article he writes until the majority share reverts to me. I don’t...I don’t think it’s going to be very long, Kenzie, like I was telling you yesterday. I think my uncle’s going to die sooner than anyone thought.”

Kenzie was quiet, looking down. He couldn’t see her thoughts at all--they were too indistinct.

“It’s strange to think so much happiness might come from one person’s death,” she said eventually, and he could see the muddled sadness and contemplation in her eyes. “The world is so strange and obtuse sometimes.” He pulled her now-empty bowl from her hand and set it on the nightstand with his.

“Drink a toast with me, baby,” he said, gripping his wine glass. Kenzie seemed to emerge from her contemplative state, and reached behind her to bring her glass against his, giving him a small, secretive smile.

“To you, Mackenzie, and everything you’ve kindled in me. Only you.”

Kenzie’s eyes fell into his--a forest with a starry sky at night, he thought, and he saw the hidden tears there that she was unwilling to let fall. Duncan. My love.

They both drank, but neither of them broke the gaze that hovered between them. When Duncan lowered his glass, Kenzie leaned over to him again, her lips falling into his, tasting of salt and sweet red wine--and she whispered “It’s time for me to get dressed now, baby.”

Duncan groaned immediately--his eyes closing almost involuntarily, now that the moment had finally come.

“I’m gonna go get dressed in the bathroom. You can’t come in. Go get the shoes you want me to wear from the closet, okay? If I have heels on you...you’ll be able to reach me better,” and she kissed him again, her tongue falling into his, her fingers on his jaw--”I’ll come out when I’m dressed. The velvet ribbon is in the drawer with my underwear...the plug and my egg toy are in there too. You can decide what you want to use on me.”

“Fuck, baby--” and he tried to clutch her but she slipped away from him--skipping on her quick little feet in the lacy crop top and her white cotton underwear to the bathroom, swinging the door shut, glancing back at him with a grin--then he heard the lock click. Duncan fell back on the bed, another involuntary groan falling out of him, rubbing his hands down his face. This woman is legitimately everything I have ever wanted, and it makes me feel like I’m always on the verge of cardiac arrest. Get the fuck up and go to the closet, Duncan. You already know what shoes she’s wearing. You already know you’re using both of those toys on her. God, and that gorgeous choker around her little neck--Duncan launched himself off the bed and threw himself into the closet, yanking the drawer he knew he’d organized her (god, it seemed like hundreds) of pairs of panties in--the velvet ribbon, pink egg and the plug with the little white jewel in the end were to the far left, and they seemed to wink at him as he pulled them out. For Kenzie. It’s your duty to make her feel fucking good.

Duncan placed the toys and the thick ribbon carefully on the top of Kenzie’s side of the shelf--under the dangling line of her necklaces. He pulled his socks off, working at the buttons of his Oxford shirt, noticing how badly his hands were shaking--I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to fucking her, honestly, he thought. Every time I can’t believe it, I can’t believe I get to, I can’t believe she chose me, I can’t believe it, an actual fucking angel chose me, I can only try to make her feel as good as possible, I can try, god, Kenzie is so fucking beautiful, her hair and her eyes and her sweet clit and her little round breasts and the tiny dip of her waist and the rising curves of her hips, I’ll never forget how she looked in the starlight on that balcony, I knew, I fucking knew, didn’t I, that she was my fucking Soulmate--and heard a small ripping sound, realizing in his nervous eagerness he’d managed to tear the remainder of the buttons out of their seams towards the bottom. Duncan threw the shirt onto the floor, uncaring--and immediately reached to where he saw the tying strappy gold sandals Kenzie had worn the first night they met--that night, burned into my mind, into my soul, forever. Duncan moved back out into the bedroom, now only in his tailored chinos, the toys clutched in one careful hand, her heels in the other--then he placed everything he was holding gently on the bed, pulling the linen away, climbing onto the bed, leaning against the headboard in a sitting position, facing the bathroom door. Then--he waited, his heart slamming into his ribcage, his stomach somersaulting.

“Baby. Are you ready? Tell me when.”

He heard Kenzie’s voice from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Yes, baby.” He was careful to make his tone even and firm. “Come out.”

The door swung inwards and Kenzie emerged in the frame of it, pushing her golden hair back from her shoulders as she did--her cheeks wildly flushed in the low light, but he could see her desire to fight off her nervousness in her bright eyes--they glittered at him and she smiled. Hey baby.

“Hello, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie put her little hands on her hips, cocking her head to him, sending her breathy whisper out to him across the bed.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck, baby.

Duncan immediately sat up--all his composure lost in the rushing tide of need he felt as soon as he looked at her this way, as soon as his eyes fell over the delicate hold of the lingerie on her body--her little breasts and the dip of her hips outlined in the white framing and white flowers of the bra and panties, the sheer tulle embellishing the soft loveliness of her shape and laying it bare for him--the roundness of her nipples, hard in her arousal, and the lips of her sweetness between her legs, any hair there shaved away again, leaving her smooth as silk, held tight in the silky tulle--and the suspender belt around her waist, white flowers sewn along her there and a bow in the center, another in the middle of the waistband of the panties, straps down either thigh clipped to sheer stockings starting a few inches down, a stretch of bare leg between them. Kenzie clutched the rose choker in her hand, its silvery embellishment and dark, smooth black leather making him instantly hard--he felt blood rush into his cock with an almost painful intensity.

“Come here right now.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so demanding, but it was out of him before he realized--his need was like a wave that had washed over him, sudden and colossal. He moved from the headboard to the side of the bed, pressing his feet carefully to the floor, sitting up straight and shirtless, and crooked his hand. Come, angel.

He saw her eyes flicker, felt the surge of emotion come out of her towards him--that’s it, baby, be rough with me, be bossy with me, be my Prince, driven wild with your need for me, I want your hunger, give me all your desire, pour it over me like honey. Then she stepped toward him, swaying her hips just a little, back and forth, her hair glowing, her eyes burning, and when she was close enough, Duncan reached forward with one hand, stretching his long finger to press it against her stomach just above her belly button where the strap of the suspenders laid across her waist, and said “Stop.”

She did, and Duncan could see the wild excitement more clearly in her eyes now--you love this, baby. Oh, Kenzie. You look like heaven. He trailed the finger down, relishing the shiver of her under his touch, being sure to stare into her eyes, down to the soft waistband of the panties, and down further, over their achingly smooth tulle, to dip between the lips of her sex through the fabric--he could feel the dampness there, feel how wet she was already--and a shudder fell down his spine, rocking his body forward toward her. He fought the urge to force her against him, to pull her into his mouth, and reached across the bed to the strappy heels, leaning down to her (bowing to you my love) to place them on the floor, facing her. Then Duncan reached for her little hands, pulling the choker out of one and setting it on the bed beside the other things there, and Kenzie stepped toward him carefully, knowing what he wanted without him having to speak.

Duncan slid off the edge of the bed, onto his knees in front of her, as she stepped carefully into the heels, and his hands came out to the straps, tying them with aching gentleness. Kenzie’s little hands fell down into his hair, and he heard a tiny moan escape from her mouth. He could see their reflection in the mirror behind her--the panties were entirely transparent in the back, showcasing her round little ass, kindling the desire growing low in the pit of his belly. God, I love your round little ass, baby, and you told me you want me to spank you, fuck. He looked away from the mirror, back up into her eyes, finishing one heel in a double-knot, his hands moving to the other ankle, meticulous and slow. As he finished, Duncan’s lips fell against the sheer stocking, his mouth moving up to the bare stretch of thigh between the straps on her legs--and Kenzie’s head fell back, a tiny, whimpering cry escaping her now.

He lifted his head up from his kisses, hands gripping into the bottom of her ass now, his eyes turned to her face. Kenzie smelled like roses and vetiver, but there was a muskiness underneath her perfume that reminded Duncan of the way he’d sometimes felt looking at The Youth of Bacchus alone in the middle of the night, the sleepless midnights he’d studied it to low music coming from his turntable, his mind hazy with bourbon and animalistic lust. The Bacchanalia. The revelry of the wine god. Wantonness. Your need for me, my love. “Okay, baby. Turn around now, and walk to the mirror, and lift your hands up to the chain, and hold it.”

“Uh huh, baby.” Kenzie’s voice was shiveringly low--and the supplicant edge in it made Duncan feel as though the seams of his mind were being pulled apart. This angel is going to unravel into soft sweet spools of pleasure into my hands and I don’t know if I can stand it. Kenzie turned towards the mirror--Duncan saw the flush rebound in her cheeks as she looked at herself fully there, and despite her shyness, he could tell she liked what she saw, liked herself with a desirous approval. That’s right, baby, you look fucking beautiful, and you know you do. That’s right. She stepped carefully to where the chain extended down, still staring at herself, a smile falling across her mouth, her lips painted lightly pink, and her eyes came back up into his in their mirror as she reached up to where the chain hung just above her, her grip loose and languid, her mouth opening a little, her little body stretching in the tulle lingerie just enough to bring a heady wave of need through his mind again.

“I’m gonna tie you to that hook now, baby.” Duncan continued to stare at her, reaching for the velvet ribbon from the corner of his eye in the mirror’s reflection, standing up. Kenzie couldn’t seem to suppress her grin--she bit into her lip as he approached her from behind, his mouth hovering just at her neck, but not touching her. She moaned a little, needy. “And then I’m gonna strap this tight around your little neck,” and his fingers trailed down the rose choker’s soft leather strap, now clutched tightly in his fist, his eyes inside hers. “And when you’re tied up nice and tight, baby--only then will I kiss you,” he whispered into her skin, and he watched a shiver extend up her back, the smile slipping away from her mouth, but she still bit into her lip, harder now, her breath more harsh. Duncan turned his eyes up to where the chain hung down, her little fingers twined in it--he placed the choker carefully on the floor beside them, then reached up with the ribbon, his fingers brushing against hers now, and she shivered again--then he pushed the end of the ribbon through one of the chain’s links, then across to the other that hung down beside it. He pulled the ribbon through until its length was evenly distended, then he crossed the two ends and brought the first one around Kenzie’s left wrist, twisting it around her twice--then did the same with her other wrist, and then he brought the two ends together with a yank, so Kenzie’s wrists were pressed together, tethered to the chain with just enough of a stretch to make her little chest rebound with a gasp. Then Duncan tied the two ends at the bottom of her wrists, now pressed together, in a firm double-knot.

“Try to move your wrists, baby.”

Kenzie pulled down, struggling against her constraints. Her wrists stayed tightly bound, her body now prostrate in the mirror, lifted up so he could see every inch of her in the white-and-transparent-tulle ensemble, and Duncan couldn’t help but feel hot, aching arousal at the power he knew he had over her in this moment--now, you’re mine.

“Baby,” Kenzie breathed. “The straps are underneath my panties--so you can slip them off without having to unclip the suspender. So you can fuck me with everything else still on.”

Duncan’s eyes fluttered close at her words--another surge of need through the length of his cock, staggering him. “I’m gonna strap your choker on now, baby.” He watched her breath catch as her shoulder blades rose and fell, a little more labored now with the effort to breathe with her arms lifted above her head, and he leaned down to grasp it, unbuckling it carefully with measured, slow precision, their eyes locked. The choker came unbuckled with an oiled silence--Duncan lifted it around her chin and he saw her eyes flash, seem to spin (the universe inside her, turning, colossal, its greatness focused on me) as he carefully pressed its smooth underside against the white, delicate rise of her neck. Kenzie breathed in, once, sharply--her mouth fell open, and her breath rattled out, overwhelmingly fragile and gossamer-slight. Duncan steadied his mind and the surge of heat to his groin, then brought the buckle around the back, deftly pulling the strap through the metal trappings, one end, then the other, and culled it until the choker was stretched tight around her, the rose winking below her jaw in the clear-golden sheen of the mirror. Duncan tugged it one more time--Kenzie gasped a little at the tightness, but didn’t protest.

“Good, baby, good,” he murmured into her ear, his hand coming around to trail down the rose, down the strap below her jaw, checking that it wouldn’t constrict her airway too much--checking that it was tight enough--snug to the point of the edge. “Baby, you’re doing so good--you’re my angel baby, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, baby, Duncan, yes, I’m yours. I’m yours, my Prince.”

“Kenzie. Okay. I’m gonna take your panties off now. And then I’m going to kiss you.”

“Yes, baby, please.” The desperate longing in her voice--Kenzie was begging now, her little mouth dipping open, her eyes shining. He could see tears at the edges of them--”Please kiss me, baby.” God, that rose. My little rose. My achingly sweet Persephone, supine in my hands.

Duncan brought his hands, gently, to the edges of the achingly delicate panties, and then he slid them, carefully, quickly, down from her hips, exposing the smooth hairlessness of her vulva, glimmering with moisture, and the cheeks of her round ass, shivering under his gaze, the bottom of her golden hair brushing against the small of her back. Kenzie stepped out of them as he brought them down around her feet in the little golden heeled sandals, kneeling again--this time he pressed his mouth into the delicate space at the back of her knee, and Kenzie’s leg buckled, a moan falling out of her, this one louder and full of need, her head coming back and her wrists straining against the velvet. “Ahh, baby--”

“Shhhhh,” he soothed, looking at her in the mirror, the shiver of her breasts in the sheer tulle, the tightness of the straps on her thighs, the tiny dip of her waist wrapped in the tailored suspender, the wonderful curve of her hourglass shape. “Shhhhh, baby, we’re just getting started. Stay with me, Kenzie.”

“Uhh, Duncan--”

Duncan kissed further up her thigh until his lips pressed into the round softness of her asscheek--she leaned back into his mouth, her eyes rolling upwards--Duncan bit softly into the flesh there, his fingers twining through the straps along either edge of her backside, and she cried out a little again, softly. He worked his way up, his mouth pressing into the small of her back and then up the delicate incline of her spine, pushing her hair aside with a firm hand, gripping it with a delicate, possessive tightness. His other hand came around to the silky tulle around her breasts, caressing her with a slowly building need, feeling around her hard nipples, a heady roughness buried in his touch, and Duncan’s mouth pressed into her shoulder blades, first one, then the other, then into the nape of her neck where he could feel the hairs there prickling under the choker as she shivered, her head dipped to the side, her eyes half-lidded, lost in the sensation of his touch. He moved around to face her, glancing at them in the mirror for a moment (we looking fucking good together baby--you’re my goddess of spring, aching and open and bursting into bloom, I’m your god of shadows and riches, I’m yours entire), then turning to her.

“I’m going to take the rest of my clothes off, then I’m going to kiss you more, baby.”

“Okay,” she whispered, “Show me that gorgeous cock, baby.” Kenzie’s wrists strained around her confinement again--her eyes shimmered at him, full of lust now, and he could see the way the choker was laboring her breathing--flushing her cheeks, forcing her mouth to hang open.

Duncan leaned back, his back touching the coldness of the mirror behind him--and he lazily pulled at his waistband, pushing the chinos down until they pooled at his ankles, kicking them away, eyes buried in the sight of her, shivering, wrapped in velvet ties, strapped into transparent tulle, gold hair in the light, pink lips open for him, the choker gripping her throat. Time to frustrate you, my little angel, all tied up and about to get fucked so hard--but not quite yet.

He dipped his hand down into his tight black briefs, biting his lip a little, staring into her liquid eyes--Duncan moaned as his fingers fell along his erection, its mound straining through the fabric--Kenzie whimpered, eyes fluttering and he grinned at her.

“You like that, huh, angel? You like watching me touch myself?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Yes. I love it.”

“I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby.”

“Uh huh.” Kenzie’s mouth opened more, and her little tongue came out to lick along her bottom lip, her labored breathing making her shoulder blades cascade up and down, her stomach shudder, her thighs shiver. “Please, baby. Please fuck me, baby.”

He pushed the briefs off with a lazy hand, slowly, the other one still gripping his length--a sigh of pleasure fell out of Kenzie’s mouth as her eyes fell over his nakedness, and Duncan let go of his cock, leaning off the mirror and standing straight, the better to absorb her gaze, loving the way her gold-flecked eyes roved up and down his thick length, hungry for him. His hands came against her hips, gripping her against him with a heavy demand, and he pressed his erection flat against her stomach, his mouth coming against hers and his tongue pressing against her tongue, probing into her insistently--he felt her buckle downwards again, shuddering, and pulled her little body up into him with strong hands, dipping one down between her legs, his fingers pushing up into the wetness of her cunt, one finger, then two, then three, and Kenzie arched into his kiss, her eyes closed and the moans now falling out of her in a steady, soft wave. “You’re mine, aren’t you, angel,” he asked as his mouth crashed against hers (sweet honey, wine, spiced nectar), and heard her murmurs and her probes into his mind “Yes, I fucking am,” I belong to you beloved, “I’m yours baby,” Fucking fuck me now baby, “I’m yours forever, I belong to you,” Gimme that cock baby, gimme that big cock, I need you so fucking much, I’m your baby, your angel, I’m fucking weak for you, I can feel myself coming undone--

Duncan broke away from her, loathe to do so but eager for the other things he’d left on the bed--Kenzie whined as he stepped away from her to grip the plug and the egg--he came back around to face her, his back to the mirror again, clutching them both with one hand, and the other hand came out to grip onto her neck harshly against the metal and the leather, pressing her mouth roughly into his again, hushing her lamentations and her need. “Shhhh, baby, be calm. Stay calm. We have a ways to go. Shhhhh, breathe.”

Duncan loosened his grip on her neck and Kenzie sucked in a deep breath--it shuddered out and he felt the pressure of her under his finger tips, the shiver of her throat and the leather and her skin. “I love your hand there, baby,” she murmured, a dazed sheen in her eyes. “I just love that so much.”

“I love you, baby,” he whispered, dipping his face down to hers so his lips hovered over hers, without letting them touch. “To touch you is...heaven. To touch you everywhere like this--it’s fucking heaven. You tell me if anything is too much, okay?”

“Mhmm, baby.”

“I’m gonna touch you more, okay? Kiss me.”

Duncan let his mouth fall down on hers again; Kenzie lifted up into him, her tongue pressing into him again, and his hand came down from her neck to fondle at her breast under the tulle, then he kissed along her jaw and her neck and into the dip of her clavicle and his lips pressed into the tulle around her nipple as his hand went between her bare thighs again, his fingers going into her cunt and emerging wet with her arousal, and he slid his index finger up into her clit, lubricating her as he bit softly into the fabric that covered her breast, and she keened up into him, crying up towards where the hook was now buried in the ceiling. Duncan probed into her cunt again, and then his wet fingers slid back to the pucker of her ass and pressed inside, wetting it with her need, too--back and forth, until everything under his fingers was shuddering and soaking wet, and then he slid the plug into her cunt for a moment--wetting it too, Kenzie rocking back and forth in her constraints--then pushed it into her ass as he stared into her eyes and her mouth lifted up to him and she let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a moan--he shushed her with his lips, kissing her deeply, soothingly, sending calming waves of gold-silver into her from the center of himself, and he felt her soften under him, felt her soothe, felt her calm inside the intensity of the moment.

“Okay, baby, breathe,” he whispered into her again, and Kenzie nodded, wrists straining a little against the velvet again, hair shimmering, eyes wide--he pressed gently into the jeweled end of the plug and she shivered, but didn’t cry out this time, biting into her lip. “I’m gonna use this on you now.” He opened his palm with the pink egg inside it. “And then I’m gonna fuck your sweet little pussy. And then I’m gonna fuck your tight little ass.” He pressed against her again, hands clutching at her asscheeks, spreading them out from the plug, making her gasp. “And you’re gonna tell me when to spank you. And you’re gonna tell me when to stop, okay? Okay, baby? And I’m gonna do what you say. And I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, Kenzie, my Kenzie, I love you--”

“Yes, baby, fuck yes, yes, I love you,” Kenzie was shuddering helplessly again.

“Breathe, baby, just breathe, okay? Remember to breathe.”

“Uh huh, okay--” Kenzie blinked rapidly, shook her head a little as if to clear the haze away, and Duncan thought fuck, Kenzie, I fucking love you so fucking much, I love you so much, I love you, I love you and then he turned the knob on the egg and the rounded end hummed with vibration and he brought it up, carefully but pointedly, into the mound of her clit between her legs--Kenzie jerked forward, lifting her neck, her eyes drifting upwards again and then into his, her mouth open and her moan immediate. “Dunny--baby--fuck, I can’t--fuck, that feels--uhhhh--” and with that Duncan moved around behind her, clutching the egg harshly against her as she keened back into him, her moans rising in intensity, and he looked up at her in the mirror now, looked at her little wrists tied tightly into the velvet, looped through the chain that hung from the sturdy hook far above them, gazed over the cascade of her soft chestnut hair and her eyes, half-lidded, overcome, staring into his over her shoulder, the white fall of her arms extended helplessly, the flash of the silvery rose under her chin and the tight strap of the leather buckled tightly against her neck, the erotic loveliness of her body in the lingerie, fitted against her with its achingly tight touch, the straps at her thighs and the bareness between her legs where he pressed the egg between her lips on the round bud of her clit, her slender legs in the sheer stockings and her little feet strapped into the golden heels, and his lust crested into the front of his mind and he pushed himself, dripping with precum and painfully hard and raw, into the wet canal between the plug inside her little ass and the rise of her clit, an impossibly warm space that seemed as though it was made for him and him alone.

“Duncan, fuck me,” he heard her voice, suddenly very clear and very demanding, a clear command that he knew he had to obey, knew he would obey fully, and pressing the egg harshly into her clit Duncan pounded his length in and out of Kenzie with a primitive concentration that demanded he remove any other thought from his mind--there was nothing for awhile but the two of them locked together, Duncan staring into the shape of her in the mirror, this mirror like a spell that’s weaving us together even more tightly, even more utterly, irrevocably, a spell around our sex that will make us close beyond all earthly pleasure, fucking her with an intensity of sensation that left them both speechless and unable to feel the reality of anything except the press of his thick length into the stretch of her cunt, up into her, so deep he wondered if he’d ever reemerge. Duncan’s hand shuddered and he dropped the egg from her clit--”I need to touch you baby, I want to touch you--” he murmured, and Kenzie nodded, her mouth open, her moans returning, sucked back into her lungs. “I’m so--fuck, baby, I’m so--god, you feel--like we’re locked together--”

“I know baby, I know--fuck--”

Duncan pressed his middle finger into her clit, rubbed back and forth, wetting it with her arousal, slicked along the space between the lips of her--let his finger fall down to the opening where his cock was pounding into her, unceasingly--back up into her clit, and his other hand coming up to her neck again, his mouth biting down into her shoulder. Kenzie let out a little scream of pleasure--one that reverberated in his skull like someone had rung a giant bell right next to his ear, and Duncan pressed his hand into her neck more harshly, cutting off her cries--”Shhhh, baby, be inside it with me--breathe, feel me, feel all of it--”

Kenzie quieted, and he could feel her throat working under his hand, trying to catch her breath--he loosened his grip and she gasped, and as he fucked her, pounding his entire length into her again and again he pushed his index and middle fingers roughly into her mouth. “Suck, baby, suck,” he demanded, and he watched her eyes flutter open and shut as her lips closed around his skin, doing as he instructed needily, a thin line of saliva dripping down the side of her mouth as his palm gripped around her chin, his mouth at the space under her ear, open and desperate for her, his senses overwhelmed in her.

“I’m gonna fuck your ass now baby, okay--” and he watched her nod in the mirror, knew she wanted him to, and Duncan pulled out of her and waited for a moment, lifting her down a little, his mouth staying there, breathing into her skin, and he moved his hand down to grip at the plug gently--he felt the pressure against his hand as she pushed it out of her, and Duncan dropped it on the floor, instantly forgotten. Then he took a deep breath and stared at her--her expression was dazed and her eyelids fluttered again, and then she nodded to him again as he pulled his fingers out of her mouth. “Do it, baby,” she said. “And spank me.”

Duncan positioned the head of his cock at the entrance of Kenzie’s tight little asshole--then he pressed into her, his eyes rolling back--Kenzie let out another little aching cry, but this one was more controlled, edged with a demand for pleasure--that’s it, baby, Duncan thought into her, feel it with me, I know you’re doing it now, it’s like we’re coming together, against each other, blending into each other--and then he brought his palm down, flat and insistent, on her right asscheek with a loud snap.

“Oh fuck yes, Duncan,” Kenzie said, and her voice was demanding now, as he moved his cock in and out of the impossible tightness of her, her eyes full of such an intensity of gold he felt mesmerized by them, utterly unable to look away. “Do it again.”

Duncan brought his hand up, hovering for a moment, then back down again with even more force--the snap that reverberated off Kenzie’s skin echoed up into the high ceiling and Kenzie gasped, the sound of her sharp and heavy in his ears. “Yes. Fucking yes. Again.”

Duncan’s eyes drifted closed--fuck baby, that makes me so fucking hard. Fuck, that unravels me into a thousand strands, your commands, your ecstasy at this from me. He steeled himself, then lifted his left hand this time--he brought it down at an angle, and as his slap reverberated off her skin he saw the immediately outline of his hand begin to form there--the harsh red marks on her right were forming as well. “Fuuuuuuck me,” Kenzie moaned, and Duncan continued to plunge himself in and out of her--let it go, let it all go, he thought into her, let everything that isn’t us go, baby, your little wrists in velvet, your body in silken bindings and dark leather at your perfect throat, your needs prostrate against my needs, our souls pressing into each other, baby--Duncan brought his hand down against her left asscheek three more times in quick succession until Kenzie was whimpering on the edge of tears--”Baby, should I stop--” he said, breathing harshly--

“No, baby, no, don’t stop, don’t stop--”

Duncan sucked in a deep breath, his body shuddering--he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on now, such was the grinding need gnawing into him from where the lips of her impossibly tight ass were gripping at his cock--and he hesitated, loathe to hurt her, even for her pleasure. “Please, just a little more, baby,” she murmured as he did, and then Kenzie’s eyes met his in the mirror again and she said “Do as I say, baby, fucking spank me,” and he moved his hand up over her right cheek again and brought it down three times in quick succession, each one harder than the last, and she gasped and shuddered and she said “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” and then Kenzie was looking into his eyes through the mirror’s crystalline surface as she screamed and lifted herself back into him, straining against her bound wrists, and Duncan moved his face down to the space beneath her ear again and continued to fuck her as he watched the spasm of her cunt, watched the wetness of her release drip down her legs in the reflection, watched her eyes flutter closed and then he was coming deep inside her and groaning into her neck, the sweet sweat of her on his tongue, one hand pressed tightly to her clit, the other coming up into her hair and twisting there. “Baby, Kenzie, sweet angel, beloved, Kenzie, princess, baby love--” his words bled out of him until he couldn’t stop, murmuring every sweetness he could think of into her as she gasped, and the muskiness of her was overwhelming to him, and he felt lost in it as if she were a sky full of stars and he were floating inside her vastness, untethered, minute. Then he came back to himself and pulled out of her, watching the thin line of come that fell out of the head of his cock, down his thigh and the inside of the back of her leg, dripping down the space behind her knee.

Duncan immediately reached up and worked at the knots that pushed Kenzie’s wrists together--he could see how she was sagging against them, her knees shaking, and he worked quickly to untether her--as he lifted her down from the chain Kenzie seemed to collapse down toward the floor, and Duncan reached behind her shoulders, bringing her gently earthwards where she hovered in his arms, her face turned against him, her cheek resting on his bare chest as he looked down at her, worried, gently clasping her wrist, red with the harshness of her straining, and kissed it again and again--lifted her other wrist to mouth to repeat the motions, over and over, fretting over her. His hand came up to work at the buckle around her neck, quickly pulling the choker away--he moaned a little to see the red marks it had left on her throat, his fingers coming up to massage her there, watching the shudder of her breathing--

“Kenzie, are you okay, is everything okay, your body--”

“Yes, baby,” her voice was tiny but she gave him a sleepy smile, her eyes fluttering open. “Yes, Dunny, I’m okay. I feel amazing.”

He smiled down at her with relief--then Duncan lifted her up and carried her to the bed, laying her with aching softness on top of the duvet, eyes still roving over her face with concern, hands coming down to the laces of her heels, undoing them carefully and quickly with soft hands, dropping the shoes on the floor. God, was that okay, is she okay, she seems like she’s on the verge of passing out, is she really okay--

Kenzie’s eyes snapped open--they were surprisingly clear suddenly, and she looked down at him, cocking her head on the pillow.

“My green tea ice cream!” she said, suddenly. “I want it.”

Duncan gave her a puzzled look, winced, then burst into a peal of laughter.

“Kenzie. Baby. Fuck. Kenzie. You are...you’re the most wonderful person I have ever known, Mackenzie Stone.”

She smiled at him, her eyes hazy-bright, and he felt her push her love into him--resplendent and approving and satisfied--and then Kenzie shut her eyes again.

“Thank you, baby. I feel the same way about you. Now, can you go get me my ice cream, please?”

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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BODY AND SOUL Part 23 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So we’re finally right before the Gala. I’m high-key proud of myself and frankly can’t believe I made it here, and yet, here I am, doing it, doing the work, every day, and feeling so fulfilled by it I can’t really describe its effect on me in words. This project has changed me fundamentally and made me confident in my ability to do what I’ve always wanted to do: write fiction. I know I’ll continue to write fiction when this story is done. I’ll continue to do it for the rest of my life. And that is profoundly moving for a person who spent the first decade of her adulthood doubting herself to an insane degree, avoiding her destiny, trying to write literally anything else because fiction scared her so much. So here’s my moment to be proud of myself! Okay, moving on. If you’re interested in more about the history of Cartier LOVE bracelets, there’s a lot about them on Wikipedia, but they indeed cannot be removed without the screwdriver. Here’s Duncan’s duffel they bring to Madeline’s. Here’s Norah Jones’ COME AWAY WITH ME, which I’ve always found to be achingly romantic. I didn’t realize Klimt had painted Athena until I was looking up some of his work for this part, and of course I had to include it in Madeline’s house, mirrored with Duncan’s own Athena--here. I grew up with the Muppets, so I gave Kenzie a Kermit. Billie really did call her grandmother, Debbie Reynolds, Abadaba. Here is the chicken and mushrooms recipe Madeline makes. Here are the Carpenters songs they listen to on the deck: WE’VE ONLY JUST BEGUN, TOP OF THE WORLD, CLOSE TO YOU (I love the Carpenters). I had so much fun writing Madeline’s dialogue. As a weed smoker, I can vouch for the fact that it really does help dampen hangovers. I based Duncan being bullied on the fact that Cody was likewise bullied when he was in school--he talked about it a bit at his SXSW interview. Here is Kenzie’s mustard dress. Claire’s dress. I posted Kenzie’s Gala dress long ago when I first found it (right after I started writing B&S and realized there was a novels-worth of stuff Duckenzie wanted to tell me), and here I finally got a chance to describe it, which was wonderful, cuz I been waitin’. The real version is by Hamda Al Fahim, an incredible Emirati designer who makes exquisitely beautiful fairy-tale-esque gowns. This blazer was my main inspiration for Duncan’s--it’s not quite as nice as his is, but you get the idea (it’s also something like this Saint Laurent velvet blazer, but without those light lapels). His collar tips are something like this, but much fancier and more intricate, and made of real gold. I am so fucking proud of this chapter. As ever, if you’re reading and enjoying the fic, your comments, reblogs, likes and asks and edits mean everything to me.

“Just out of curiosity, what’s your first memory? Your first memory of her.”

Duncan had known in that moment, in fact. He clutched Kenzie’s hand in the backseat of the BMW as Samuel drove them towards Arlington and Madeline, obsessing over the conversation with Claire Underwood for the hundredth time that day, his tears dried now but his mind in no less chaos. I knew even then. As soon as she asked me. As I’ve always known, somewhere in the back of my mind, hidden deep in my psyche. I’ve always known that there was something about me that didn’t fit against Annette Shepherd. That there were parts of me far more hidden than I ever dreamed. And I’m not a fucking Shepherd. I don’t know who the fuck I am.

Kenzie was running her soft little fingers through his, the pad of her thumb crooked into the dip of his hand, and he could feel her face turning to him, glancing at him with worried, bright eyes. He ached at her worry; ached at the sadness that waved out from her onto him, a sadness prompted by his own, a sadness he couldn’t entirely will away. The locking Cartier bracelet glinted now on her wrist pressed against him--its gold and diamonds caught the falling neon lights outside, the street lamps. The other bracelet, of solely solid gold, was around his, and they brushed against each other, cool and smooth, their fingers twined tightly.

Kenzie had called her mother. “Momby, something’s happened--can we come see you? We’ll tell you everything when we get there. Yes, I’m fine. Yes, Duncan’s okay. Well, physically, he’s okay. It’s about Annette. No, she’s not hurt. It’s something else. Can we talk about it when we get there? Duncan’s just--he needs us. Yes, Momby. No. We can order pizza or something. Okay. We’ll be there in like half an hour. Momby can--can we sleep there? In my old room? Yeah. I love you to the moon and back. See you soon.” Then Kenzie had gently pressed him toward the walk-in closet, and said “Dunny, get some things to sleep at Momby’s, okay?” And he’d obeyed, feeling dazed and on the verge of tears again, pulling down one of his leather duffels, absently throwing things inside it. Nothing seemed to matter in this moment--nothing but being near Kenzie, and he felt vague panic now that she wasn’t touching him. Annette is not my mother. Who is my mother? Who the fuck am I? Oh god, baby. Oh god. But Kenzie had returned in a moment, their toothbrushes and some toiletries in her hands, and she piled them in the duffel, then added a few other things-little white lacy underwear, a mustard-colored sleeveless lace dress, her flat lacing sandals, the Tiffany moon necklace, his big black cardigan he now considered to be hers--she seemed to know Duncan wanted her things in his bag, with his, seemed to know it would comfort him, the scent of her on his clothes. She can hear me. You can hear me, baby. You know. Thank you. I love you. I’m afraid, baby. I’m scared.

As Kenzie had finished packing her things in among his, Duncan had gone out to the kitchen, remembering what he’d gotten for her, and retrieved the red Cartier boxes from the island. He’d come back to see Kenzie emerging from the closet with his duffel clutched in her hand, and she’d set it back on the floor as he handed one of the boxes to her in the quiet, fading sunlight of the bedroom, not saying anything. Kenzie had opened the box as he opened his, and her little hand had come up to clutch against her throat, her eyes clouding with tears; Duncan could already tell she’d been crying earlier (crying alone, like I was), her face puffy from the residue of them and her sleep, but it seems today is full of tears--at least these are the happy kind, I think.

“They call them love bracelets,” he’d said to her quietly. “They can only be taken off with these.” He carefully picked the little screwdriver out from the side of the inner lining of the red box that held his, and lifted it out to her, flat in his palm. Duncan’s heart ached, desperately, in this moment--I am offering only myself, aren’t I, Kenzie. All of me, but only me, my faults, my sorrows, my anger, my sense of loss, my loneliness and my confusion, my temper, my flaws. These things I offer alongside my hopes and my dreams, my love for you. But no longer the Shepherd name. That name isn’t really mine. I don’t know what my name is. I offer you the indistinct self that remains. He watched her face in the fading light; the little bob of her throat, her hands trembling. He thought, wildly--I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve your love. You’re an angel, and I’m no one.

“They’re so beautiful, Dunny. Let’s put them on each other. May I?”

He’d nodded, eyes filling with tears again, biting his lip to stop them, feeling an ache in his mind, the ache of the terribleness of this day, the ache of her acceptance, lost in his relief towards her. Kenzie had leaned up to kiss him, her eyes closed, her eyelashes casting tiny shadows on her cheeks--her mouth was terribly soft and made him moan into her with succor. Saint Mackenzie, who consoles. Her touch alone heals me--reaches down into my secret heart, and presses it to her holy mouth, her kisses sweet beyond measure.

“I love you so very much,” she had whispered, and Kenzie had set her box down on the island; lifted the gold bracelet from the box he held with one hand, the little gold screwdriver with the other, and stared at him for a moment with an expression of devotion and trust in her eyes that shook him to the core of his being. Then, she used the screwdriver to unlock the bracelet, glittering in her hands--had ever so gently linked it around his wrist, bending her head over him to lock it into place. Duncan had lifted his other hand as she did this, pressing it down the dip of her hair, feeling another wave of tears cascade from his eyes, falling freely down his cheeks, and he’d shivered, shivered with the feeling of the hand of Fate on them again. You are my Soulmate, Mackenzie Stone. You are exalted above all others in my eyes. And next to you, all others have no hold over me. Not even Annette. No one. Kenzie looked up into his eyes as the bracelet clicked closed--his face fell against hers and he kissed her again, and she had whispered “Dunny, I love you, I love you, baby, I will always love you, I’m here, oh baby, it’s okay, I love you, more than anything, I’m yours--” and he could feel himself nodding, hands coming around into her hair, lost in her comforting voice. They stood pressed together, quietly, Kenzie’s voice drifting into silence, his mouth pressing up against her forehead, her fingers running along the gold bracelet around his wrist, now tethered against him (I’ll never take it off, never) and Duncan could feel her pressing her golden comfort into his body, and the wrenching sorrow he had felt was melting away into a duller, smaller pain, a distant sting.

“Now, do me.” Kenzie’s fingers trailed over the gold around Duncan’s wrist for a moment, then she handed him the box that held her bracelet--the diamonds glittered in the low light of the drop chandelier over their heads as he opened it, and Duncan noticed, almost removed from himself, that his fingers were trembling too. He tried to grip the screwdriver and fumbled with it, almost dropped it--Kenzie had gripped his hand and steadied it, and he’d breathed out, ragged, lost in the feeling of her hand. Then he’d felt her pressing into his mind again, felt her golden comfort, and his heart was relieved, the burden lifted away from it so he could see her clearly, see how trusting she was to him in this moment, see how luminously beautiful she was in the halo of this promise, the glow of the love that drifted between them. He grasped her little wrist, sliding the unlocked bracelet onto it, and his head dipped down to press his lips against her hand. My Kenzie, more beautiful than a starry sky. My moonlight, healing every corner of me, every dark place.

His hands quieted--almost removed from them, he watched himself lock the bracelet deftly against her, hearing the tininess of the mechanism clicking into place. Then he raised his eyes to hers. He could see her lip trembling, the fall of her golden hair shimmering in the fading light. You are mine. I am yours. You are never alone as long as I am breathing in this world. And even when I’m not, my spirit cannot be parted from yours for long. You know it as I do. Beloved. Forever. Beyond time.

“Let’s go see Momby, baby.”

Now they were quiet in the backseat, Samuel having closed the partition, giving them solitude with each other. Duncan glanced down at his watch--it was just after 8, and they’d been driving for awhile, maybe 20 minutes, out of downtown and toward Madeline’s house. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he ignored it, fingers clenching around Kenzie’s, trying to concentrate on the song that played low and soft: come away with me in the night, come away with me and I will write you a song...come away with me on a bus, where they can’t tempt us with their lies...he wished he could roll down the window and throw his phone away, let it fall over the bypass Samuel was crossing, let it disappear into thin air. I don’t care about anything and I can’t talk to anyone and I don’t want to see anybody but you and Madeline, he thought, and knew she could hear, knew she was listening as she dipped her head against his chest, warm and soft and smelling of rose and vetiver. Her thumb trailed across his palm, and where they touched she seemed to be weaving sigils of gold into his skin. I can’t help it--my heart fucking aches. I want to bury my face in your hair baby my sweet baby and cry until I can’t breathe. Cry until the tears dry up and I don’t have any left, I love you just you and you only and you are my constant comfort, my only One, what would I do without you, what would I do…

You don’t have to wonder, my Prince. I’m here. You found me. You’re safe in my arms.

Duncan couldn’t look at her--he was too close to tears again. He looked down at the bracelet on her wrist instead, fingers trailing over the gold and the glimmering diamonds, then at his, its gold steady, shining. I’ll lose the key on purpose, he thought to her. I’ll never take it off. Never. Kenzie sighed against him, and he felt the golden mixture of contentment and sadness in her--the sadness was for him, empathetic and overwhelming to him. What I feel from her is so extraordinary and so staggering in its loveliness. To feel her love for me this way is beyond all my dreams. To know its truth this way is indescribable.

And I want to walk with you on a cloudy day, in fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high, so won’t you try to come, come away with me

“I won’t let anyone take mine off me but you,” she whispered up to him, and finally he felt like smiling. “Only you, baby.” His ear had dipped down to listen to her, and her little mouth pressed against his stubbled cheek. Duncan closed his eyes, pushing the image of Claire Underwood’s expression when she told him to ask his mother where he came from out of his mind--pushing away the image of his mother walking away from him as he stood near the elevator in his uncle’s huge house (but he’s not really my uncle, is he), leaving him to the coldness of his realization, forgotten. Just be here with Kenzie right now. Forget everything else. Duncan lost himself in the drift of her scent, her softness, the golden touch of her mind--he didn’t realize the BMW had stopped, pulled up in front of a lovely brick Cape Cod-style house, warm with light from within spilling onto hydrangea bushes under the windows.

“Here we are, baby, come on,” and Kenzie was pulling him softly out of the backseat. He stood on the sidewalk, feeling dizzy; Kenzie was gripping the duffel in her hands, and he shook his head, taking it from her. She smiled at him; a smile tinged with worry. She leaned down to speak to Samuel, but Duncan felt like he was underwater, like he couldn’t hear--he gazed at Madeline’s house, still feeling dazed, as Samuel drove away and Kenzie gripped his hand again.

“Come on, baby, come on,” and she was pulling him to Madeline’s wooden front door, rapping on it insistently before digging in her satchel for her keys. Duncan turned to look out at the fading light--the sun still hadn’t quite set, and the world seemed to be bathed in a deceptively lovely glow, the quietness of the surrounding houses serene. He felt untethered from reality for a moment; he freed a hand from the duffel’s strap to twist his fingers around Kenzie’s hair, against her back. Touching her brought immediate relief; brought him back to solid ground. Kenzie was still fumbling for her keys when the door came open--Madeline stood there, her clean linen and dark wine scent wafting out toward where he and her daughter stood on her stoop. Her glasses had dark purple frames today, and she wore a black camisole top with a black cardigan pushed up around her elbows, a long silvery necklace with a jade stone dangling down her torso, her feet bare below baggy, worn denim jeans folded up at her ankles. She pursed her lips at them, not unkindly--then she shifted her gaze intently onto him, lifted her hands to him from her scant height (she seems even smaller than Kenzie somehow, though I think they’re about the same height--like mother, like daughter, ridiculously tiny) and gestured to him, dipping her fingers out and then back towards her body.

“Come here, Duncan. Come here.”

Duncan’s eyes went misty again--Kenzie was taking the duffel back from him and he was stepping into Madeline Stone’s deeply, instantly comforting embrace, stepping into the cool cocoon of her house, out of the balmy summer evening. He had to hunch to reach her--Madeline lifted up to him, and the feeling of her was instantly soothing. Like mother, like daughter.

“Now, now.” Her voice was against his hair. “My future son-in-law. What in the world. You look like you saw your own ghost.”

Duncan fought the urge to shudder against her. How wonderful, Kenzie, to have Madeline hugs all your life. He could smell warm kitchen smells wafting towards where they stood--spices and the savoriness of chicken, pepper, garlic--Kenzie food, he realized, and his stomach rumbled, and he realized he was starving.

Madeline pulled away from him when he didn’t speak, looking up into his face again, pursing her lips, concern flitting behind her glasses. Kenzie stood on the stoop behind him, and he saw Madeline glance into her daughter’s eyes, knew she saw the worry there.

“I’m going to make you a very strong long island iced tea,” Madeline said, matter-of-factly. “And then we’re all going to sit on the deck and eat dinner. And you’re going to tell me everything. Kenzie, take that into the bedroom, okay? Show Duncan.”

Madeline stepped away from them, past a staircase near the entrance, through a living room with an oak-framed fireplace (Duncan could see the glint of Madeline’s Pulitzer on the wall), into another room he assumed must be the kitchen, where the wonderful smells were coming from. Kenzie moved past him, setting the bag down again to unbuckle her sandals and leave them on a mat by the door. Duncan leaned down to slide off his Wyatt boots, mimicking her. He stood there in Madeline’s front doorway, still feeling dazed. “Come on, baby, this way,” Kenzie said, pushing him toward the stairs, closing the door. She gripped his hand and he felt the gold bracelets on their wrists clink against each other, comfortingly--Duncan grabbed the duffel as she led him up the steps, past the first doorway (a bathroom), to one in the middle of a hall, this door shut.

Kenzie pushed it open--the interior was a sensibly furnished guest room. On the walls were several prints of Klimt paintings; Duncan was struck by them instantly, amazed that they were all from Klimt’s well-known “golden” period, including Pallas Athene (women in gold, high on Olympus, he thought again, these Stone women), reminding him of his own Athena in the penthouse living room, her head bent, her expression all-knowing. He noticed one was The Kiss; it was right over the headboard of the bed. The duvet was velvety burgundy, and a plush Kermit the Frog toy was nestled between the pillows.

“This room used to be mine after we moved here when I was in middle school, but Momby made it into a spare room when I left for Georgetown. This Kermie is mine,” Kenzie said, throwing the duffel onto the bed and grabbing onto the toy with both hands . “My Abadaba got him for me when I was a baby. My grandma, I mean. She passed away two years ago.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Duncan watched her in the dim light--there was a part of him that knew that though the memory of her grandmother was sad for her, Kenzie was talking mostly to distract him, and he felt a wave of aching affection for her.

“She was wonderful. She was a lot more structured than Momby in some ways. She was a singer--she used to sing this funny song in nightclubs called Abadaba Honeymoon, it was about monkeys singing in trees. So I called her Abadaba. I always did. She would have loved you.”

Kenzie came up to him with the Kermit still clutched in her arms, and Duncan had a vision of her as a little girl, dragging one of the toy’s arms through the mud, having tea parties with it, falling asleep with it clutched against her at night. He could see one of Kermit’s eyes was beginning to unravel from its socket, and its legs and arms were fraying. Kenzie went up on her tip-toes and kissed him--Duncan brought his hands around her cheeks, holding her against him for a moment, loving the feeling of her little dress pressed to him, drifting on the edge of laughter, the pleasant energy in her mother’s house, and more tears, still feeling lost inside his emotions.

Kenzie leaned the Kermit doll’s face up to Duncan for a moment and pressed it on his cheek, pursing her lips and making a kissing sound. “There. All better. Momby used to do that when I was sad. There. All better. Worry to the wind, she would say. My Abadaba used to say that, too.” She turned to a wicker chair in the corner, a woven checkered blanket draped over it, and put the Kermit doll there carefully. Duncan felt unable to speak, unable to think, unable to do anything but stand and watch her. I wish I could forget myself entirely and just get lost in her. Just dissolve into her and become a part of her. I love everything about her. Her hands and her lips and her cheeks, her hair, her wonderful eyes with her beautiful soul whirling inside them, the little laughs she lets out and her little teeth, her bare feet, her curvy hips under my hands. How thoughtful she is, how kind, how sensitive, her memories, her dreams. She’s an angel and I don’t deserve her.

Kenzie was looking at him, her eyes clouded again. He dipped his head away from her.

“You do, though, baby,” and her voice shivered. She’d heard him. “You are the person I love most in the world. In all of the Milky Way. In all of the universe. You do deserve me. You’re my beloved. You are exalted in my eyes.”

The last part came out of her with strange conviction; where have we heard that before? He wondered again. When was the first time I heard you say that to me? It’s so odd. I don’t remember, and yet I feel like I’ve never not heard it from you. As though you’ve said it to me a thousand times.

Kenzie broke the spell, reaching for him, pulling him out the door, back down the stairs. She led him through the living room he’d glimpsed by the front door, and his eyes fell on a photo on the wall--Kenzie smiling and walking down a ramp in her graduation gown and cap, her hands lifting up in triumph. I want more pictures of her at home, he thought. One in every room. I need one on my desk. He remembered the photograph of him and Annette that had sparked the realization in him after Claire Underwood’s question, and felt bitterness seep into the back of his throat, his psyche threatening to delve down into melancholy again, but then Kenzie was pulling him into Madeline’s bright, warm kitchen, and he could see Madeline’s back retreating through a screen door in the far corner, onto a deck with a view of the hills behind the house. There were a few bowls on the small table in the corner, and Kenzie let go of his hand to grip one--it had mashed sweet potatoes in it. There was a tray of the promised long island iced teas--three of them, in fact, in huge tumblers, shivering with round ice cubes. Duncan gripped it and followed Kenzie out onto the deck. The sun had finally faded past the horizon and Madeline had put The Carpenters on low, Karen emanating from a little stereo on the edge of the wooden railing that surrounded the deck. And when the evening comes, we smile, so much of life ahead, we’ll find a place where there’s room to grow, and yes, we’ve just begun…

Madeline had made them baked chicken with mushrooms--a dinner Kenzie was obviously trying to contain her excitement over--and she’d already begun delving it out onto thick paper plates at a glass deck table. Duncan pulled one of the metal-framed deck chairs out for Kenzie as she set the sweet potatoes down. “Thanks, baby,” she murmured, dipping up to kiss him. He noticed Madeline’s eyes skirt over them, glancing at her shyly, self-consciously, as Kenzie broke away from him and sat as he pushed her chair in.

“I’m not much for the internet, but even I’ve heard about how crazy everyone is online about you two lately,” Madeline said, passing one of the plates to Duncan, who nodded at her gratefully. She dished out their tall drinks next, holding hers aloft so they could toast each other. “I think I’m gonna start selling Kenzie’s autographs for extra cash.”

“Momby,” Kenzie whined, taking a sip of her drink. She coughed a little. “Dammit, Momby, how much vodka is in this?”

“It’s mostly vodka,” Madeline replied, spooning sweet potatoes onto her plates and pushing the bowl towards her daughter. Duncan took a long drink from his tumbler. “Cheers to that,” he murmured. Fine by me. Thanks Madeline.

“So,” and Madeline collapsed into her chair. There were fireflies out in the yard, Duncan could see them winking in the dim fairy lights that lined Madeline’s wooden deck. Kenzie was already digging into her chicken enthusiastically with a fork, staring between the food and Duncan’s face, as if sheepish to be so into her dinner when his day had been so difficult. He glanced at her, smiling, baby, I’m okay, then picked up his fork as well, but not before taking another long gulp of the mostly-vodka-with-a-little-iced-tea drink Madeline had made for him. The chicken was delicious--savory and spicy, and it warmed him to the center of his being, calming his nerves again, dispersing the dizziness in his mind.

“Madeline, this is excellent,” he said, looking up at her.

“Of course it fucking is, baby,” she replied, popping the straw in her drink into her mouth. He laughed a little at that, nodding. Madeline fucking Stone. One of a kind.

“One of you is gonna tell me what happened today, after you’ve had something to eat.” Madeline forked sweet potatoes into her mouth after this statement, with finality. “At least you don’t look white as a fucking sheet anymore, Duncan, sweetpea.”

“What are you going to wear to the Gala tomorrow, Momby?” Kenzie asked, her tawny hair falling over her shoulder, popping mushrooms into her mouth.

“Nobody is gonna give a shit what I’m wearing, dearest daughter of mine,” Madeline replied, her eyes still on Duncan. He could feel the discerning, minute intelligence in her gaze. What did Annette do this time, she seemed to be wondering. “I have some old Calvin Klein stuff, maybe one of those.”

“Momby, there’s a theme, you have to dress according to the theme.”

“I can just slap a gold scarf on or something, honey, everyone’s going to be looking at you two anyway.”

Kenzie blushed and fell silent. She knows Madeline’s right. Karen was singing a different song now, her clear voice ringing out into the warm night. And the only explanation I can find, is the love that I’ve found, ever since you’ve been around...your love’s put me at the top of the world…

Duncan had devoured most of his chicken now, sitting back in the metal chair. He realized he was utterly exhausted--the anguish of this day had pressed on him like an anvil at his back, and the mere idea of the Gala tomorrow sent sharp spikes of anxiety into his mind. I don’t fucking want to see Annette. Not at all. I don’t think I can talk to her right now. I don’t think I can talk to her for awhile. I don’t...I need time. He caught Madeline’s eye again, took another long gulp of the vodka, and then he spoke.

“I went to see Claire Underwood today. I had a meeting with the President--an unsanctioned one. She had agreed to speak with me, and I thought...I thought I could build some kind of bridge between her and Shepherd Unlimited. Madeline--you know. You know I want to change the company. But I didn’t have a chance to be clear with Claire about that before she told me something. Something that she knew would hurt me...something to get at Annette.”

“She told you that you were adopted.”

Duncan gazed at Madeline in shock. “You knew that?”

“No, honey. No, I didn’t know. I suspected it, though. One day Annette’s wandering around in the world, not looking remotely pregnant, and the next day there you are, as if you sprang fully-formed from her head, like Athena popping out of Zeus. I had my suspicions for awhile, yes, but it’s not like Annette and I were on speaking terms, dear. It was just a hunch.”

Duncan was quiet at that--his mind ached again. Fuck, Duncan. Don’t jump down people’s throats. The only person who is at fault for not telling you is Annette. She’s your mother--at least, that’s what she always told you. It was her responsibility alone.

“I’m sorry, Madeline.”

Kenzie reached for his hand, and Duncan grasped it, gratefully, his breath coming out in a ragged gasp again. He drank at the vodka, drank it down to the bottom. Madeline stood up, holding a finger up. Hang on. She gripped his empty glass and disappeared into the kitchen. Kenzie leaned her head down to him, speaking softly.

“Baby, are you okay? Do you not wanna talk about it anymore?”

“No, Kenzie. It’s okay. I do want to talk about it. It’s--I think it’s the only thing that’s going to make me actually feel better.”

Kenzie nodded to him, eyes falling back onto her plate. Kenzie, I love you. I love how you’re always thinking about how I feel. I love you. If I didn’t have you right now, I don’t know what the fuck I would do. Thank you for this. This is helping so much. I feel so much better already. I really do. Her eyes came back up into his as she heard him, and she smiled, biting her lip a little, kindling his desire, despite his melancholy. My little moonbeam. He squeezed her hand as Madeline came back onto the deck with a fresh drink for him.

“This one is vodka with a dash of seltzer. And I put a lemon in there for you.” She held another in her other hand, even though her first was only half-drunk. Duncan grinned at her as she fell back into her seat. The vodka was starting to settle into him and the events of today were starting to seem far away, dull, the bitterness melting.

“Duncan, I don’t know if this is going to actually comfort you, but Annette does love you.”

“If she loves me so much why didn’t she fucking tell me? I’m 30 years old. She had time.”

“If you want me to explain Annette Shepherd’s psyche, sweetpea, I’m afraid there’s no chance I can help you with that. No one the world over has ever been able to crack that rock-hard outward shell of hers. She’s horribly stubborn. She’s cold as a witch’s tit in Dante’s ninth circle of Hell. She can be a real cunt. But she loves you. Maybe in her eyes, keeping it from you was akin to love. Maybe she thought you’d be happier not knowing.”

“I might have been.” The vodka crashed against him. He moved in his seat, leaning closer to Kenzie, and she reached her little hand out under the table, settling it onto his thigh. He sighed at the feeling of her; gold waves. I love you, Dunny, she was thinking. I can’t wait to hold you close, whisper sweetness into your ear, feel you against me in the dark. I’ll soothe you, my beloved. I’ll soothe you so entirely. You know how I can soothe you.

“So, then, if you can’t necessarily empathize with her reasoning, you can at least understand it.”

“I…” Duncan dipped his hand under his chin, ran his fingers along his bottom lip, trying to dampen Kenzie’s thrall on his mind, enough to concentrate on what Madeline was saying. It wasn’t easy--Kenzie’s wave was like a heady drug he longed to get lost inside of. “I suppose so.”

Madeline seemed to notice the energy that was building between the two of them, even if there was no possibility of her knowing the true intensity of it. Her eyes were skirting over her glasses between Kenzie’s bright eyes focused on him and his nervous expression between the two of them. Yes, it’s true, Madeline, your daughter and I can read each other’s thoughts and anticipate each other’s needs, he imagined saying to her. Get a fucking load of that. A lot has happened in the past two weeks, a lot more than I could ever find words for. I guess I should be considering the big picture, honestly. Finding out I’m adopted is on the lower end of unbelievable things that have happened to me lately.

But no. I’m fucking devastated.

“I’m not a Shepherd, Madeline.”

“You should thank your lucky stars for that, sweetpea. The genes there are all fucked up. Generations of inbreeding in aristocratic families.” Madeline said all of this so drily Duncan couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

“Momby.” Kenzie rolled her eyes at her mother, clenched her teeth.

“I’m serious, though. You don’t want to be a Shepherd, Duncan. Not really. You want the best of what being a Shepherd could potentially be. The resources of the Shepherd name. And they are as good as guaranteed to be yours already. Imagine what you can do with that company, sweetpea. Imagine. Imagine how many people you can help. Imagine the joy you can spread. You don’t need to be a Shepherd by blood. You just need to be a Shepherd on paper. And you are.”

“That reminds me. I need to ask you for something. A very large favor.”

“Sweetie,” Madeline downed the rest of her first drink and pulled her second toward her. “With that face I’d probably sign my house over to you if you asked me really nicely.”

“I’d like to officially ask you to be on the Shepherd Unlimited board of directors. I asked Kenzie already--” he glanced at her, and Kenzie smiled at him, then looked at her mother.

“I said yes, Momby. I think I’m going to need to resign from the Post eventually to do it. But I want to do it. And I want you to do it with us. And so does Duncan.”

“Resign?”

“I think so, Momby. I think--I think it’s time for me to write my book. And I feel like this is the right thing to do. We need your help.”

Madeline sighed deeply. It was not an angry sigh; it wasn’t even annoyed. It was as though she was closing one door, and when the sigh ended, opening another one. It was as though she was letting go of her need to worry over Kenzie--letting go of her apprehension, and falling into the realization that Duncan would indeed be person who would love her daughter with complete devotion. And I fucking will, Madeline. I swear I fucking will. Every fucking day. And on the days I mess up, I’ll do whatever I can to make up for it the next day. There will never come a day when I won’t try to give Kenzie everything she has ever wanted. There is no joy for me now that doesn’t anticipate and stem from her joy.

“You got it, kids.”

“Momby! Yes! Fuck yes!” Kenzie lept out of her chair, running around to her mother, throwing her arms round Madeline’s neck, burying her face in the crook of her mother’s hair. Madeline closed her eyes, but Duncan could see her smile. She opened them as Kenzie continued to clutch her, and they looked at each other--she nodded to him a little, and Duncan felt like he understood. Hey you. You over there. I love you too. I’m doing this for you, too. He felt the drift of tears float into his cheeks again. Not right now. Later, when Kenzie’s holding you in the dark, you know that’s when you will. And she won’t mind. Your sweet Kenzie with the golden touch will hold you and let you cry. She always will.

“Let’s smoke a bowl.”

Madeline disentangled herself from Kenzie’s tight embrace and her daughter (Kenz, angel baby) helped her out of the deck chair. She disappeared into the house again and Kenzie slid around to Duncan, leaning down to his cheek, her lips trailing along the line of his stubble. The revelations of the day felt very far away now, and Duncan felt hazy with tiredness, drunk on Madeline’s strong cocktails, and full of aching desire for Kenzie--Kenzie, from whom all goodness flows.

“Oh god, baby. That feels so good. Come here.” He pulled her down into his lap, anxious to be closer to her. He thought of that first night on the balcony--that sensation that they were touching before they had even truly touched, that vibrating energy between them, heavy and intensely charged. To touch you, my love, to really touch you, to be able to touch you always, I can’t describe how beautiful that is. I am more than blessed. To be chosen by you is beyond all beauty I’ve ever experienced.

“Do you feel better, baby,” Kenzie whispered against his lips, and he dipped them up to her mouth, insistent, nodding, the scent of roses and geraniums and her sweet skin in his nose.

“Uh huh. Much better. Kiss me, angel, please baby, please.” Kenzie sat with both her legs dipped over his thigh, stretching her arms out around his neck (Duncan felt the cool edge of the gold bracelet on his skin there, glanced down at his own now against her waist, his heart twinging), her eyes teasing him (dark green, shining gold), then she was tasting him deeply, her hair falling down against his cheeks, and Duncan suddenly wanted her alone, wanted the comfort of her body pressed against his, naked and so soft and so light under his fingers, arching into his touch. Fuck. I missed you so much today, angel. When I realized--when I knew Annette wasn’t my real mother--all I wanted was to feel you in my arms. Because you are my true family. My only beloved. And nothing else matters as long as you’re beside me.

I always will be, Duncan. You and me, baby.

Madeline was coming back and Kenzie broke away from him, her cheeks flushed, both of them breathing harshly. Madeline gazed over at them lazily, a pink and purple blown-glass smoking bowl gripped between two fingers, a BIC lighter in the other.

“Don’t let me break up the mood, Kenzie Lou,” she murmured facetiously. Kenzie blushed up at her mother, taking the bowl as Madeline handed it down to her. She leaned the mouthpiece toward Duncan’s lips and he pressed them into it, breathing in as she lit the bowl. She pulled it away as he breathed out, breathing in herself from the still-lit embers, then leaned down to kiss him again, blowing out into his mouth as she did. There. Fuck the world, baby. Just me and you. Then, Kenzie handed the bowl back to her mother, who’d already sat back down. Madeline lit it again and breathed deeply.

“Thank you for dinner, Madeline,” Duncan said, his mind an ocean shoreline now, the tide drifting in and out. He pulled on Kenzie’s waist, clutching her closer to him, and she dipped her face down into his neck, her arms still around his shoulders. On the day that you were born the angels got together, Karen sang, and decided to create a dream come true...Kenzie was singing along softly into his ear, and Duncan shivered, pressing down against her lips. “So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold,” that’s you he thought, hand drifting at her spine, “and starlight in your eyes of blue--”

And that’s you, baby, he felt her push into him, against his thought to her. That’s your eyes.

“You just owe me another night out on the town, sweetpea.” Madeline puffed at the bowl again, gazing up at where the moon had risen--it was gigantic and glowing, corn-yellow in the balmy night. “You can make it my first official work expense as your employee.”

“The first of many,” Duncan replied, “yes, ma’am.”

They all lingered there for awhile, not speaking, listening to the peepers and watching the fireflies drift out on the grass. Duncan closed his eyes, vodka and weed crashing between his temples, Kenzie’s softness in the little dress with golden flowers in his arms, her fingers twining through his hair at the back of his head. Eventually, Madeline set the bowl down and drained the rest of her cocktail, standing, wobbling a little. Kenzie went to move off his lap to help her, but Madeline shook her head.

“Nope. I’m good, sweetpea. I’m going to bed. You two are gonna do the dishes for me. But you can take your time.” Madeline came over to them and leaned down to Kenzie’s face, kissing her cheek--Kenzie kissed her in return. “Love to you the moon and back, Momby.”

“Love you to the moon and back, my Kenzie Lou.”

Then, Madeline stepped away from her and leaned down to Duncan, pressing her lips to the stubble on his face. Duncan felt his eyes flutter closed. His heart clenched, his breath catching. In that moment, he thought, Madeline loves me as a mother loves a child. And I love her as a son loves a mother. And I’m not alone. I have them, don’t I. I have my darling Kenzie, an angel on earth, and her bold, bright mother, who sees me as a son already, and I am very fortunate indeed. I am blessed among all men.

Madeline’s warm hand drifted down to his cheek for a moment, then dipped under his chin, thumb and forefinger pressing there, angling him toward her gently, and his eyes lifted up to hers. He could feel Kenzie looking between them from where her face rested in the dip of his collarbone.

“Duncan, sweetpea. Never forget how much you are loved. We love you. Okay?”

Duncan felt the tears gather immediately at the corner of his vision. For a moment he couldn’t speak--his breath shook. Kenzie’s fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay.”

Then Madeline gave him a little nod. “Good night, my moon babies,” she called over her shoulder, turning away from them, and disappeared inside, sliding the deck door shut behind her.

Kenzie lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “Dunny.”

“Yes, Kenzie Lou?”

“I love you.”

“As I love you.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll be together all day. We’ll have breakfast together and we’ll go see Morgan and Claire together, we’ll get dressed for the Gala together. Nobody can bother us, because we’ll be together. I won’t let them bother you. Anyone you don’t want to talk to, we’ll ignore them. Annette or your uncle. Anybody. Everyone. I’ll tell them to fuck off. I’ll throw a fuckinggg drink on them.” Kenzie slurred her words just a little--the weed was beginning to settle down into her, and the gold of her that fell against him in a tide felt more erratic, drawn-out, high. Duncan smiled against her. That’s right baby. You and me. Fuck them.

“I won’t fucking let anyone bother you either, baby. I can’t wait to see your dress, I’m fucking dying to see it. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time, I’ll just be thinking of later, thinking of you touching me, finally releasing me--” and at this he dipped his mouth down to the space under her ear and she was pressing her little breasts into his shirt, her hands flitting against his neck, her breath gasping as her mouth lifted up toward the moon, and he thought when you’ll finally slide that ring off my cock, hovering on the edge of hardness for hours and hours for you, when I’ll slide that plug out of your tight little ass and fuck you there, fuck you where you’ve been aching for me, I’ll be thinking of you the whole time, Kenzie, thinking of us alone together, the only thing I ever really want now, you you you your body and your mouth and your eyes and you and me alone alone alone just us no one else nobody but us my dearest love your gold like honey like nectar like sweet wine better than any weed greater than any drug the headiest of all pleasure and second to no one and nothing only you angel princess baby goddess, my moonlight, my moon flower--

Kenzie was giggling into his touch now, his mouth blowing cool tickling air onto her skin teasingly and his fingers dipping into her sides and pressing into her. You’re ticklish too, huh baby, and she wailed “yes, yes, stop, I surrender!” and he gripped her as she writhed, her screeches of laughter echoing out across the back lawn, tears in his eyes even as he grinned into her hair, happiness and sadness and some other emotion he couldn’t name crashing against each other in his mind, crashing into hers, maybe it’s more than happiness, more than sorrow, maybe it’s just the feeling of us together, the rightness of it, more than anything I feel, it’s the knowledge of our destiny, the knowledge of the perfection of this moment, when I thought perfect moments couldn’t exist, and now I know I was wrong, that they can, that they do, that this is one--nestled in a day so strange, so full of anguish--one moment, fit against us, molded to us. Perfect. There are perfect things in this universe. This moment, and the knowledge of us together. These things are perfect.

Duncan let Kenzie wriggle out of his lap, knowing full well that if he wanted to trap her there he could, keeping the strength in his arms coiled, not letting the neediness in his stoned, drunk mind take over his senses. She hopped away, breathless, gathering up their empty plates and the bowl of leftover sweet potatoes, cocking her head toward the screen door to the deck, which Madeline had disappeared into awhile ago. “Help me, baby,” and Duncan stood, stacking the empty glasses on the tray, gripping the serving platter with the remainder of the chicken. He followed Kenzie inside and she set the items on the counter, going back out onto the deck, turning off the little stereo, and the only sound now was the peepers and the cat clock in the corner towards the living room, and the sound of Kenzie shutting the deck’s sliding door, the sound of her bare feet on the kitchen’s linoleum. She went to the sink and pulled down a few tupperware containers in a cupboard beside it, scooping the sweet potatoes into one while Duncan slid the remaining chicken into the other.

I love this, he thought. Doing this with you. Doing anything with you. I wish we could do things like this more. When we have the garden house, we will. We’ll get away from the city, the company, my mother, the paps. We’ll make breakfast with eggs laid by our own chickens. We’ll eat fresh tomatos and cucumbers and lettuce from our own garden. We’ll take the horses out into the field, the woods, lay in the grass and eat apples under our orchard trees. We’ll fuck in the shade and lay there together naked and no one will see us, no one will bother us, no one.

That’s lovely, baby, she drifted against him, her little head brushing against his shoulder, filling the sink with hot soapy water, handing him a dry towel. Keep thinking those beautiful things and dry the dishes as I hand them to you, okay?

Uh huh, Kenzie. Anything you want me to do. And I mean every day. Always. The Cartier bracelet glittered on her wrist as she dipped the bowls and silverware into the sink, scrubbing at them with a scouring brush Madeline had crooked around the faucet, her eyes glancing up at him as she handed them off to him, dark green like the forest of you, the woods of you, the infinite of you. Princess Kenzie, fairest in all the land, fairest of them all. I’ll build you a castle where only beautiful things are, a castle of green growing things, a castle for your heart to find refuge in the certainty of my love, where we can hold each other, hidden by the boughs of the trees and surrounded by flowers, flowers to cover the wall over our bed in the city, and flowers for every sill in our home, flowers for you hair, flowers we’ll fall into as I kiss you--

“Oh baby, yes, I love that, god, that’s lovely--” she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper, and she dropped the brush and the bowl she held back into the soapy water and her wet, soapy little hands came up to his cheeks and pulled him down to crush his mouth into hers, and he dropped the towel onto the counter and lifted her into his arms, lifted her onto the counter too, the better to reach her, touch her, hold her, press against her, her smell like roses, her taste spicy and sweet and her, her taste, like flowers dipped in honey. Duncan felt the memory of today’s sorrow once more, knew there were things he now knew about himself that he couldn’t forget again, things he didn’t know about himself that he knew he needed to know, not just about his mother--whoever she was--but about him, about Kenzie, about how he knew they knew each other and knew they were meant to always be together, and why that was, how that had come to be, how they had found each other again. But all of that, his confusion, his despondency, his desire to know, was dissolving against her, and he felt the perfection he’d felt on the deck extending, stretching on into her mouth, perfect, baby, you’re perfect to me, you’re like a secret place I discover again and again, the secret safe place where my heart will always be able to rest and kindle its greatest emotions and that is beyond all words, all language, all description.

“Duncan, let’s wait until tomorrow,” Kenzie whispered, hands falling down to the sides of his neck, coaxing a moan from his throat, his hands gripping her knees, sliding up her bare thighs under the little dress, her warm, trembling skin sending an electric current through him, almost painful. “Let’s wait to fuck until tomorrow night, and we’ll be so fucking crazy for each other by then, we’ll be so needy for each other by then, baby, Dunny, god, I’m dying just thinking about waiting already, dying to feel your big cock fucking me--”

“Fuck, Kenzie, I don’t know if I can wait that long, baby, I want you now--”

“You have to. You have to wait. You have to do as I say, Duncan. You have to obey me.” She was giving him a hellishly lovely smile, one that set him absolutely on fire in this moment, her eyes whirling jade with flecks of gold, her hair in a cascade of silk over her shoulder--Fuck, Mackenzie Stone, you’ll be the death of me. Fucking marry me. Fuck me and choke me and tell me I belong to you. Because I do, I really do, I fucking do baby, I’m yours utterly, entirely. He leaned into her mouth longingly again as she kissed him, her arms drifting up his dark sleeves, her fingers brushing against his chin, holding him on her lips. Then she pushed him back--gently, but Dunan knew he needed to obey, needed to follow her, and he stepped backwards, eyes fluttering closed. He realized how tired he was in that moment, how the day’s revelations and the vodka and the weed and his desire for her were now combining to insist he hold her tightly and fall asleep now, sleep until today became nothing more than a memory. Kenzie slid back down to the floor, off the counter, and crooked a finger at him.

“Help me finish, baby. Then we’re gonna go to bed.”

“Uh huh, Kenzie.” He rubbed the fatigue from his eyes and yawned. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. The Gala is tomorrow. The full moon is tomorrow. I’ll long for you tomorrow, all day long, tomorrow.

Kenzie led him up the stairs after they finished the last few dishes, and they brushed their teeth quietly side by side in the little bathroom that used to be Kenzie’s when she was in high school, Duncan in a black tee shirt and gym shorts, Kenzie in his big Led Zeppelin tee that was now an integral part of her sleepwear. Duncan noticed a photo of her and Claire still there, in a bubblegum-pink frame over the toilet. Kenzie smiled at it, glancing up at him as she rinsed her toothbrush. In the photo they both wore Baskin-Robbins hats and aprons, Kenzie kissing Claire’s cheek, Claire with an expression of mock surprise, hand on Kenzie’s jaw. “Yes, I was an ice cream girl for two years,” Kenzie said to him, and Duncan let his hand drift into her hair, grinning as he scrutinized the photo.

“The prettiest ice cream girl in the world.”

“Ugh, shut up, Prince Duncan. I’d like to see you in that uniform. Give me twelve scoops and chocolate sauce and sprinkles, ice cream boy. I bet you never had a work a shitty job, huh.”

Duncan shook his head. “No, you’re right. I didn’t. But I did have to go to a shitty private school where I got my head smashed into a locker every other day for four years. I was bullied...a lot. Relentlessly. For awhile it was like it was my job to get the shit beat out of me. Two big guys in particular whose favorite insult for me was fag. Original, I know. Broke my wrist throwing me into a brick wall. One of them kicked me in the face so hard he knocked four of my teeth out, another time they punctured one of my ear drums with a pencil. God, that was the worst pain I’ve ever felt.”

“Baby. Fuck.” Kenzie’s face fell and suddenly she was pressing against him, her little nose in his shirt, her hands clutching around him. “I’m so sorry, baby. That’s so horrible. Ugh, no, no, no. I wish I had been there. I would have kicked their asses.” She turned her face up to him and he could see the tears glittering in her eyes. Duncan dipped his head so his lips brushed against her hair.

“My fearless Kenzie. I know you would have. I wish I could tell him--me, back then--how you were on your way. I wish he had known.”

“I’m here now, baby. I’ll always protect you now.”

I know you will, Kenzie. As I’ll always protect you. Nobody can hurt us now--now we have each other. Now we’re invincible. Our hearts are safe from them, shrouded in each other. Kenzie led him to the bed--Duncan switched the bathroom light off behind them, pulled the switch on the lamp beside the bed, glancing at The Kiss over it before he did (me and you)--and she pulled him down to her in the holy darkness. Duncan pressed his face into the sweet space above her breasts, kissing the shirt over her skin, his arms clutching her flush to him, and whispered “Kenzie, I love you,” and her cheek was pressing to the top of his head, her little thigh crooked up between his legs, and she was murmuring “I love you too baby, I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore...” and he knew she meant it, knew she would, knew that her golden waves of sunlight and moonbeam were his shield against all the harm of the wide world outside. And then, sleep, in her arms, in her embrace, in the warmth of her love...

And he forgot to cry--forgot that he had wanted to.

--------

The next morning Duncan woke to the sound of Madeline’s sharp tapping on the bedroom door. His head felt heavy; a small hangover from the vodka, softened by the weed. Kenzie was leaning from her position against him, same as the one they’d fallen asleep in, turning her head to the door, and he drifted up out of sleep, eyes opening to the crook of her neck, the sweet, musky smell of her. We were dreaming. But what was the dream about? We were together. The Mirror. The Mirror was in the dream. We were...but it was sliding away from him. Her dress was long and black, falling velvet...I don’t know. I can’t remember.

“Wake up, kiddos, I made pancakes. Chocolate chip and blueberry. And I spiked the coffee. Hair of the dog for a big day.”

Duncan heard Madeline’s laugh echo through the door and Kenzie shouted “Thank you Momby! We’ll be there in a minute!” and a sharp spike went through Duncan’s skull. He groaned against her, arms tightening to pull her mouth down to him.

“Did you dream, baby?” He tasted at her, the slight saltiness that had gathered on her in her sleep. I have to wait to fuck you until tonight, late, late tonight, fuck baby, how can I wait so long--Kenzie was wriggling out of his arms, her expression devious. You’re gonna really make me suffer today, aren’t you, angel baby. I can tell by the look in your eyes.

Yes. Show me how you worship me. Be good, baby. Be patient.

“I think so, but I can’t really remember.” Kenzie sat up, her golden hair in a frenzied, sleep-tangled halo around her head. I fucking love you so much, he thought, reaching for her, but she slipped away in that infuriating quickness, her little ass in its tiny pair of white lace panties kindling his morning erection (just the usual), the gold-and-diamond bracelet winking on her little wrist as her hand trailed off the bed. He lifted his hand up to his pounding head, his own gold bracelet brushing against his temple as he did; the tethers of the gold thread between us, mine extending to hers, tied together, for all of time. Thank you gods. Thank you Fates.

He had followed her downstairs to find that Madeline had indeed made them pancakes--a mountain of them, with organic butter and syrup and strawberries on the side, and strong black coffee spiked with what tasted like peppermint schnapps, which did its bit to clear his head and whisk away the hangover pressing into him. It was after 9--we slept for a long time, Duncan marveled. I could have slept for longer, honestly, something about this house is wildly comforting. I wish Kenzie and I could sleep through the Gala entirely, just forget it even exists. He couldn’t imagine speaking to Annette today; he knew as soon as she approached him he’d do his best to escape from her, despite the fact that the Gala was taking place at the Shepherd mansion as it always did. At least the house is so fucking huge it’s easy to lose people if you’re trying to. He looked up at Kenzie to see she was staring at him, her eyes knowing, glittering as she sipped at her coffee. I know you can hear me. I just can’t fucking do it, baby. I can’t talk to her right now.

It’s okay, Duncan. You won’t have to. We’ll avoid her. She’ll be busy anyway. She’ll be around other guests. We can hide from her. Kenzie pushed a forkful of chocolate chip pancake into her mouth, nodding to him. She’d left her phone downstairs last night and it was now resting on the table beside her--Duncan’s eyes glanced down at it, noticing it light up once, then again from two separate texts, one from Clairebear, the other from a number that wasn’t saved in her phone. His own phone was still in the pocket of the pants he’d left in a pile upstairs on the floor. Fuck my phone. I might as well throw it in the fucking garbage. If I’m with Kenzie there’s no one else in the world I want to fucking talk to anyway.

Madeline was in a fluffy dark navy bathrobe, wearing her purple-rimmed glasses, clutching her coffee cup in her hands, her eyes skirting back and forth between the two of them.

“It’s like you two are talking without actually saying anything, and it’s weirding me the fuck out.”

Duncan bit into his lip. We are, Madeline. He used the edge of his fork to cut off a piece of pancake, pushing it into his mouth. “These are great, Madeline. I can see where Kenzie gets her cooking skills.”

“Duncan is an incredible cook, don’t let him fool you, Momby. And he taught himself.”

“Well aren’t you two just so far up each other’s asses,” Madeline replied, smiling into her coffee cup. Kenzie rolled her eyes at her mother, making an exasperated sound in the back of her throat, going back to her plate, biting into a strawberry. Duncan snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. You have us down to a tee, Madeline. I am, indeed, so far up her ass. He snorted again as he saw Kenzie give him a look, sucking her bottom lip in. Oh my fucking god, Duncan. Then they couldn’t stop--Duncan pressed a hand over his mouth and Kenzie giggled, and then they were both laughing uncontrollably, and Madeline said “oh boy, I said it, didn’t I, I did that to myself,” and was laughing too. Tears were popping out of Kenzie’s eyes, her head falling back as she laughed into her hands, and Duncan thought fuck, I get to laugh with you every day now, fuck me, thank heaven.

Eventually they all quieted down and Kenzie looked down at her phone. “Claire says we should meet up around noon to make sure everything fits right. I guess you can finally see my dress then, baby. Oh my god, Momby, wait till you see, do you wanna see the photos Claire sent me? Duncan hasn’t seen it yet, we’ve been waiting to make it a surprise.”

“Fuck yes I want to see it,” Madeline said, leaning over to her daughter conspiratorially. Duncan heard her gasp and he felt twinge of jealousy. “Ugh, I wanna fucking see--” he said, trying to dip his head around to Kenzie’s phone, which she jerked back beyond his line of vision.

“Not yet baby, the first time for you has to be when I’m wearing it, please please please,” and Duncan whined.

“Fine. But stop rubbing it in, Madeline.”

“I sure will not stop rubbing it in, sweetpea. We don’t know each other that well yet so let me tell you something. I am the queen of rubbing it the fuck in. With salt. Duncan, it’s fucking exquisite, and you are going to shit yourself.”

Duncan gave Madeline a faux dark look, jabbing towards her with his fork, Psycho-style. She laughed at him.

“Baby, you’re so cute. We’re gonna change your name to Stone. I’m keeping you.”

“That would be my fucking honor, and we both know it.”

Kenzie was smiling between them, and the earnest happiness in her expression made Duncan want to press her against him, kiss her tenderly. But then she looked back down at her phone, and her face immediately creased with a frown.

“Kenz, what is it?”

“Um, it’s Annette.”

Duncan’s blood went cold, his good mood immediately crashing down to earth. “Oh. What the fuck does she want.”

“She’s asking if she can come by the penthouse. She says she wants to give me something.”

Duncan’s mind flashed with a spike of red-hot anger. “Spent all this time being horrible to you and now she’s trying to guilt-trip me by giving you gifts. Fuck her.”

“Duncan.”

“Kenzie, she didn’t tell me I was adopted for thirty fucking years.”

“I know, baby. I fucking understand why you’re angry, why you’re so hurt. But if she’s finally trying to be civil with me, it feels like an opportunity. Baby. We can help her understand what we want to do with the company. I mean--eventually. After some time. After you have some time.”

Duncan pressed two fingers into the bridge of his nose. Calm the fuck down, Duncan. Do not take your anger out on Kenzie, don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. She hasn’t done anything but be loving and sympathetic and cried her eyes out for you last night. She’s the one who is ALWAYS on your side.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He could feel Madeline’s eyes between them, intent, observant. She’s watching you too, Duncan. She’s watching how you treat her daughter, and you need to pass this fucking test, today and every day from here on out. So pass the fucking test and don’t be a fuck up. “I--I can’t see her right now. But she can drop it off for you with Anchaly. Or you can, I dunno--I can go somewhere while you talk with her.”

“I’ll go downstairs and see her for a minute. After we go see Morgan and Claire, before the Gala. I’ll just go talk to her downstairs for a minute. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Kenzie. It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, Kenzie’s phone poised in her hand. Duncan. I love you. We both know she wants to use me right now to get you back on her side. But that doesn’t matter. We can go away after the Gala, baby. Let’s do it. After the Gala, let’s just leave. Let’s go to the cabin and stay there for a few days. As long as we need to. Until you feel better. Until you feel like you can talk to her. How does that sound? Let’s just go. Everyone can fuck off after today. Just you and me, baby. Just us and the stars and the trees and the lake.

Duncan was nodding at her, and he could feel Madeline’s puzzlement again at their silence, their intent stares at each other, his nodding.

“Seriously, you two are spooking me. What the fuck.”

“It’s just how we comfort each other, Momby. It’s just--it’s like meditation.”

“Not like any meditation I’ve ever fucking seen. It’s like you’re talking to each other but your mouths aren’t moving. Like fucking telepathy. You two are...it’s just...it’s very strange.”

Duncan didn’t say anything, finishing off his pancakes, bringing his coffee cup (it had a full-frontal faun with a comically large erection playing panpipes on it--nice, Madeline) to his lips. Madeline sighed at them, then seemed resigned to them not elaborating further. “What time are you picking me up with that fucking fantastic man?”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to Samuel Adebayo, my irreplaceable chauffeur.”

“That’s what I said. That fucking fantastic man.”

“The Gala starts at 8. We should be fashionably late. So we’ll pick you up at 8 sharp, how does that sound?”

“Perfect, sweetpea. Plenty of time for me to get high as a kite beforehand.”

Kenzie was rolling her eyes again, but Duncan couldn’t help but agree with Madeline internally. I don’t think I can make it through tonight sober. Between avoiding my mother and edging in a crowd of famous politicians and celebrities, it’s going to be an interesting fucking night. He felt Kenzie’s eyes on him again.

Wait until you see my dress, baby. Wait till you see your angel. He felt gold swirling around her thoughts--the gold of the gods, she thought to him. My sweet black-clad god of riches, you will behold your Persephone. Your fucking queen. And I’ll be wearing my plug for you all night too, just fucking aching for you...

Kenzie. Fuck. You’re killing me.

Thankfully Madeline had turned away from them this time to make more coffee. Kenzie stood, having finished her breakfast too, and crooked a finger at him, grinning with her little teeth. Come on. Let’s take a shower together in my shitty adolescent bathroom, baby. I’m going to make you needy for me today. You don’t get to fuck me till later, but you can look and touch, baby.

“Momby, we’re gonna go get dressed. Thank you for the pancakes.” Kenzie stepped over to her mother, kissing her cheek, then hopped over to Duncan and pulled him toward the stairs, her eyes that dark jade green, making his stomach swirl with low heat. He watched her ass bounce up the stairs ahead of him and he closed his eyes as he went after her. Fuuuuck. How the fuck am I going to make it until tonight.

Kenzie was pulling him through the guest room (The Kiss, Pallas Athene, gold waves, hey Kermit) and into the little bathroom, closing the door with a snap behind them, turning the little lock, her hair falling. The shower curtain was celestial suns and moons--Duncan assumed it must have been the same one since before Kenzie went to college--and Kenzie pushed it back, turning her back to him, clutching the hem of her tee shirt and pulling it off, yanking her panties off with one hand, letting them fall as Duncan’s eyes roved over her bare ass. Ugh, I love it. I love your body, baby, love your shoulders and your hair, the dip of your waist, your hips and the round peach of your ass, the backs of your thighs and your short little legs--he reached out before she could wriggle away and his hands fell down to the jut of her hipbones, burying his nose in the back of her hair.

“Princess,” he whispered against her. “My beautiful fucking baby.”

Kenzie leaned back into him--Duncan felt the jerk of his cock growing hard as she rubbed her ass up against his crotch through the soft fabric of the gym shorts he still wore. How how how can I wait until tonight, baby, how can I. His hand was coming down her abdomen to hover above her sex, but Kenzie grabbed his fingers and yanked them away, insistently.

“No, baby. Be good. Get in the shower with me.” You smell like flowers, baby. You’re my little fucking flower. Let me suck on your exquisite petals, Persephone. Let me take you into my mouth.

She stepped into the tub and turned the knob, yelping a little as cold water came out against her breasts and stomach. “Ugh, I forget now that not every shower is hot immediately like yours, baby,” she murmured, and Duncan was hurriedly throwing his clothes off, stepping in beside her. Not every shower’s as big as mine either, huh, Kenz, he thought to her, his body immediately pressing against hers as he gripped her at the hips and turned her into him in the small basin, the shower head now falling against the back of her hair. His hardening erection was pressing to her stomach now. Duncan hesitated for a moment, looking down into her face turned up to him. Then, he kneeled in front of her, the bottoms of his feet pressed against the edge of the small tub, hands still holding her hips in a careful but insistent clutch.

“Can I please make you come, Princess Kenzie?”

Her eyes were backlit with that ethereal green in the artificial light of the little bathroom--the sun was facing away from the house this time of day, and only the yellow light of the bulbs over the bathroom mirror permeated the shade of their nook. The water was finally hot now, and steam began to rise around her, like some cascading spell coiling up from her, the water soaking through her blonde-dark hair, sliding in rivulets down her thighs, his mouth hovering just over the lips of her sex now. Duncan kept his eyes on her face, fingers tightening down onto the backs of her thighs, under the dip of her ass cheeks. Please say yes, I beg of you, angel. Please let me. I want the sweet scent of your clit to hover around my lips and mouth and nose all day. I want it to linger in my senses the whole time at the Gala. I want my thoughts to be intoxicated with the memory of your cunt, the desperate hope that I can worship it with my sex as I did with my mouth. I beg you to let me worship you.

Kenzie’s silence stretched, and he felt as though she had closed her mind off to him for a moment, closed herself and delved down into a secret Pandora’s box, and he ached to feel her again, a tiny whimper escaping him, his desperation rising up. Then, Kenzie’s gold surged back into him and he felt his cock jump between his legs with the force of it, felt the groan that erupted from his lips as the stare between them extended, the hot water falling against his cheeks from where he knelt before her, beholden.

Kenzie’s slender hands clutched into the back of his head, down into the wetness of his curls, and still not speaking, only staring into him, her expression obtuse and unreadable, Kenzie brought her leg up over his shoulder, crooking her knee there, lifting her thigh open, and she forcefully, harshly, demandingly brought his face, the open supplication of his mouth, flush between the wet lips of her sex. Duncan immediately clutched her against him with all his strength, easily holding her steady, the gold bracelet on his wrist pressing against her ass, and he kept his eyes open, lifted up to her face, her chin falling back and her mouth falling open as the water rushed through her hair. I will never forget the way she looks in this moment, either, in this tiny little shower. Her face is like the face of god to me. Yes, angel, yes. This is all for you. She was sighing deeply, her sighs like long, drawn cries, and he could feel the minute shuddering in the muscles of her legs and the core of her body, and he longed to be devoured by her desires in that moment, longed to be consumed by her needs. I’m your baby, Kenzie, I belong to you, the only thing I want is to make you feel so fucking good, the only thing I want is to be yours, and to make you come, come, come--

Duncan moved his head down, flicked his tongue out, pressing it along the quivering sensitivity of the dip of skin between Kenzie’s ass and the opening of her cunt, along the cavity there and the lips of her labia, then back up into her clit, and Kenzie was crying out softly, quietly, “fuck, baby, don’t fucking do that, I can’t be quiet if you do that, I don’t want Momby to hear us--” and Duncan smiled into her clit, swirling his tongue around the bud, loving the feeling of her thighs knocking against his hair, her involuntary convulsing, her hands gripping his hair with an intensifying low pain, pulling. He pressed his open mouth in a wanton kiss to the very head of where the lips of her began, then began to suck lightly, suck downwards over the mound of nerves, dipping his tongue back and forth, and each time it pressed into her Kenzie’s hips bucked into his face, her thighs beginning to tremble in a steady cascade now, and he dug his hands so tightly into her that he could feel his short nails now dipping half-moons into her soft skin.

Fucking come, moonlight. This is just the first time today. I’m gonna make you come later, even harder than I make you come right now. Fucking come against my mouth. I dream all day about your sweet little cunt, Kenzie. My daydreams are the feeling and the scent of you here, my daydreams are buried in your hair, the softness of your skin, the radiant glow of your eyes. He raised his head for a moment, away from his ardent sucking, and stared at her. He knew what she was thinking now, knew how she wanted to force him against her, felt the coiling desire to control him swirling in the center of her, an image rather than a thought, and he waited for another beat, waited for her to do what he longed for, what he knew she wanted to do. Kenzie brought her fingers away from their harsh grip at his hair; one of her little graceful hands clutched him under his stubbled chin as he gripped her thigh and the back of her ass, holding his face steady as he held her body in place, and then her other hand came up, hovered, then came against his cheek with a hard slap, the diamonds on her wrist winking, his mouth hanging open with the force of it, breath falling out in a harsh gasp, eyes fluttering closed, involuntary.

Kenzie hesitated for a moment, then brought the backside of the same hand down over the other cheek, not quite as hard as the first, but the sound of it still loud and sharp. The low pain of her attentions sent a dagger of hot need through his body and into his groin, crackling energy sliding through his mind. I bow to you, goddess. Kenzie. My beloved. Queen. I am beholden to your desires. Fucking yes. I want you to command me to suck on you. I fucking love you.

“Put your mouth back where it belongs, baby,” she said, and she lifted her chin, the hot water sliding down the curve of her breasts, between her collarbones down the flatness of her stomach, and he saw the glimmering wonder of her divinity again, and felt staggered inside it, knowing there was nothing else in the world he wanted inside this moment as much as he wanted what to do she told him to do.

Duncan pressed his open mouth against her again in a complete supplication that sent warm waves of her golden tide down his throat, the heady scent and taste of her making his cock jump into his belly again, and her hand was coming down to the nape of his neck, achingly gently now, pressing him into her, moving her hips so she was almost hovering over him now, almost as if she were floating, her body heavy against him but also impossibly light, and his eyes fluttered closed--he couldn’t help it, overwhelmed as he felt by her in this moment, extending forwards and backwards until he felt as though he no longer knew where he was, and didn’t care to know, only that she was here, impossibly close, and she was going to fucking come for him very soon, and with his mouth utterly pressed to her he felt the shudder build in her body and heard her needling cry, opened his eyes, holding his mouth carefully still and working his tongue into her as she shook, watching her head dip down, cock to the side in an achingly lovely moment of complete abandon, her eyes half-lidded and lit by a haloed glow, her mouth wide, her little teeth peeking from her lips, her breasts shuddering with tiny shivering adulations, her arms shaking, one hand falling across his stubbled cheek almost absently, needy to feel him there (I love it love the feeling of it love you fucking love you I fucking love you your mouth is all I ever want now your mouth and your adoration and you bowing to me, bow to me bow to me my fucking gorgeous impossibly beautiful prince oh fucking fuck fucking fuck me fuckkkk), her thoughts the most glorious poem inside her orgasm. His mouth stayed against her, loathe to leave the sweetness of her, as her shudders dissipated, floated down, dissolved slowly. Kenzie tried to uncrook her knee from where her thigh still laid over his shoulder, and Duncan gripped her hard, whining between the lips of her, trying to keep her there.

“Baby, be good, let me down,” she was laughing at him, hands soft on his cheeks, her diamond Cartier bracelet glinting in the corner of his eyes as she pushed his face back, and he pouted at her, pouted up into her radiant face, goggled by its loveliness, awash in the sweet afterglow of her orgasm. “Later, I’m gonna let you fuck me so hard. Be good today, okay? Be my sweet baby.” He sighed into her stomach at that, nodding, squinting his eyes against the heat of the water spitting down, then leaned back, licking his lips (god I love the taste of her, I don’t know any words for it, it’s like the sweetest cake with the headiest wine, the absolute tip of an orgasm, the absolute depth of the deep ocean, it’s like staring into the abyss with white stars whirling, it’s her, it’s fucking her, it’s the taste of heaven), and hoisted himself up, aware that his erection was achingly hard now between his legs, aware that she wasn’t going to touch him, and he wanted to moan with terrible frustration. Kenzie was leaning away from him, squeezing conditioner into her palm, fingering it swiftly through her tawny hair, and he could see her mouth still hovering open as she stared at him, could see the flow of her thoughts even though she wasn’t touching him. I love your big fucking cock baby, later I’m going to fucking gag on it for you, but only if you’re good, only if you’re patient, and he groaned, dipping his face down to press against her cheek, the heat of the water making his cock shiver as she leaned away from him so only their faces were touching. His fingers came up to press into her breasts, around her nipples, and then he was moving his hands away because the feeling of her was simply too intense for him now, too much to bear, and he moved back and he said “Fuck, Kenzie baby…”

Kenzie closed her eyes, rinsing her hair under the shower head, hands flitting through its dark gold, then she was pressing a finger up into the dip of his throat, right below his adam’s apple, curling her hand up to grasp his throat, gently but insistently.

“Don’t you dare come, Duncan Shepherd. You have to wait.”

Duncan’s mouth snapped closed at her commanding tone, the gold flecks that suddenly twirled in her gaze, and his hands fell away from where they had been hovering near his cock, his aching need to touch himself laid bare to her through their minds’ touch.

“Ung, Kenzie--”

“No whining. Finish up and get ready with me. It’s time for you to see my dress.”

Kenzie stepped out of the shower at that, and Duncan tried to dial back the wave he felt falling down his body, into his groin. You can’t. Kenzie said you have to wait. He forced himself to think of an open wound festering, the smell of rotting garbage, anything to ease him down from the edge of release. Slowly he began to feel the pressure in his cock easing, and he gasped into the water, sucking some into his mouth, swirling it under his tongue, desperate to ease the whirling need the taste of her sex kindled up in him. The taste of her in my mouth like this is fucking overwhelming, it’s like fucking torture. I could come over and over and never want it to end in a thousand years, tasting her on my lips this way. Duncan resigned himself to patience (you must, you have to, it’s what she fucking wants so it must be done) and finished his shower alone, despite the terrible ache of his desire for her, her gold still lingering like a patina around his body.

-------

Kenzie was wearing the button-down mustard-colored yellow lace dress she’d packed hurriedly in his duffel the night before, the little black heeled sandals on her feet, the Tiffany moon at her throat, her long hair still drying in soft waves around her shoulders, Duncan in one of his typical black Givenchy Oxfords, the fabric of it thankfully a cool cotton (somehow I packed something sensible, despite the erratic nature of my mental state last night, he thought) to combat the heat of the June day, already overwhelming, his round black-framed Yves sunglasses over his eyes, her little gold-framed round sunglasses over hers as she pulled him eagerly from the BMW’s backseat at Morgan’s studio, an wildly excited grin spread across her little face. I want to fucking kiss you, angel, your sweetness is like a food I want to savor.

Duncan had made the mistake of looking at his phone on the way and low dismay kindled in the back of his mind now; Annette had attempted to call him 15 times since last night and left him a slew of texts, which ranged in tone from the outright defensive to jarringly apologetic that bordered on a kind of begging. He’d never once been privy to a message from his mother that approached this level of penitence, and it unnerved him. But he was determined to stay away from her for a few days. I can’t fucking talk to you right now, and you have to fucking accept it, Mom. He’d avoid her as well as he could tonight, and they wouldn’t talk about what Claire Underwood had told him until he and Kenzie returned from the cabin. He knew this with certainty. His mind ached with acute agony when he tried to contemplate the truth; I’m not a Shepherd, I don’t fucking know who I am; it was simply too close still, and his psyche stepped away from it as he clutched Kenzie’s hand like a lifeline.

Kenzie was dragging him up the stairs, little sounds of excitement floating down to him from her mouth, her movements elated. My dress my fucking dress my gorgeous dress wait till you see baby wait till you see, he could hear her, waves of gold crashing. Kenzie slammed her palm onto the buzzer, hopping up and down, squeezing his hand, pinching his fingers. How can I be in a bad mood when you look like this, he thought, dipping his face down to kiss her cheek. My fucking angel. Today will be beautiful because you are here and you alone are my sunlight.

Claire greeted them, cheeks flushed pink, in a long-sleeved navy midi dress with rose-colored blossoms--her face was radiantly happy too, and Duncan was struck by the glow of her cheeks, the winking shine of her gaze. Harris, he thought, surprised at the immensity of it all over her face, surprised by the obviousness of it. Harris. Kenzie fell into her arms, squealing with delight, “We’re here, we’re here!” and Claire was laughing, her grin infectious--Duncan could feel his own smile falling over his face, so overwhelming was the loveliness of these two women before him in this moment. How can I possibly be sad, in a world where my Kenzie and her dear ones exist.

“God, wait till you see them, darlings, my Kenzie Lou, Duncan--wait until you see. The paparazzi are going to actually die. You should both wear those sunglasses this evening, cuz you’re gonna be blinded by camera flashes all night.” Claire was gripping Kenzie’s little hand so she was extended between her best friend and Duncan, like they were about to play ring-around-the-rosie. Duncan let Kenzie pull him into Morgan’s studio behind them, sliding his sunglasses off his nose. It had taken awhile for his erection to go down in the shower, and he still felt the vaguely uncomfortable edge of blue balls between his legs, the memory of a release anticipated and never carried to its end, the come still trapped in his groin that demanded attention. He shifted, resigned to it, trapped inside it, knowing it would be hours and hours until he got what he wanted. My Kenzie, moaning against me, lost inside my touch, my sex, my desire for her. That’s what I fucking want. Kenzie had let go of him, rushing over to greet Morgan, looking as obtuse and polished as ever in a long black poncho that fell to the floor, lacy black gloves on her hands. He raked a hand through the wave of hair over his ear, breathing out slowly, carefully. You’re going to need to pace yourself, he scolded himself. You’ll never make it through tonight if your nerves are like this all day. If your desire is this strong. Push it down and control yourself. We have a long way to go.

“Darlings, delightful to see you looking so fresh and anticipant,” Morgan cooed. “I think I’ve truly created two of my masterpieces for you in these pieces, a triumphant, delicate mixture of verdant power and seductive celestial ecstasy. Truly I have found my muses.” Duncan was stepping towards her, Morgan extending her hand to him, which he grasped in greeting, dipping his head down to her. Kenzie hopped in place, clutching Claire still, her hair bouncing.

“Please let me see it, please please please,” she was begging, and Claire was laughing at her. Duncan smiled, his body was beginning to hum with the premonition of the moment; he knew, somehow, knew how shaken he’d be to conceive her in it, knew how it was going to shatter into his soul, and he suddenly felt like he needed to sit. He grasped the edge of a nearby counter, covered in scraps of fabric, cloth scissors, pins and measuring tapes. He could see the bits of silken gold that were scattered there, and his heart lept into his throat.

“Dearest, come with me,” Morgan cooed to him, taking his long hand in her elegant lace fingers. “Claire will accompany Mackenzie to her gown while I escort you to your guise for this splendid evening. I trust you won’t need my help to dress, so I will then leave you and ensure that your beloved is fitted like a glove.”

“No, indeed, Morgan, I think I can manage.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Kenzie, who was looking at him with wildly bright eyes, biting into her lip, fingers gripping Claire so hard they looked white. See you soon, baby. He smiled at her, his heart pounding wildly. I love you, Kenzie, I love you, then Morgan was pulling him away with a surprisingly tight grip, to a side-room in the opposite direction of where Claire was forcefully guiding Kenzie, whispering animatedly into her ear. Duncan looked ahead, turning away from them with reluctance, and felt his heart rebound again, his breath catching--the blazer Morgan had created for him was on a rolling black dress form in the center of the room, immediately drawing his eye with its cascading metallic gold on crushed black velvet, a silk Oxford underneath it with strikingly intricate gold tips. He moved towards it immediately, reaching out a hand almost involuntarily to touch it--the gold was like dripping stardust, smooth and soft, like trails of falling stars smeared across the heavens, dripping down into the emptiness of space. This is how I feel when she touches me, he thought again. I feel like she’s spreading gold all over me, all down my body, into the secret, sensitive spaces of my heart, like I can taste her in my throat and the taste is beyond any taste I’ve ever experienced, beyond exquisite, beyond all other delights. He could see that the gold tips of the collar were each an intricate cage of lace, reminding him of the bracelet Kenzie had worn that night they first met--a cage that wove around me, and brought me in forever.

“Morgan,” he breathed. “This is extraordinary.”

Morgan was grinning at him, her eyes closing behind her huge cat-eye glasses.

“My darling, I know well that it is, but thank you. You have truly inspired me--the glory of such luminous love, good heavens. As an artist, to behold such emotion is to be moved to create. I can see that at heart, you are a romantic, and that perhaps, in the past, you have been moved to conceal it for fear of exposure to the cruelty of the world. We who wear black feel the heavy idyll of life, the drama of every moment, and we feel it most acutely. In our grief, in our ennui, and yes, in love. And this love is extraordinary--for you, it has healed your soul. Therefore, you must look the part. Gold leaf was my tool, and 18 karats for the tips, a perfect compliment, I see, for the Cartier.” She glanced down at his wrist, and Duncan nodded to her.

“I leave you to it.”

With that, Morgan turned and left, shutting the door behind her. Duncan breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them again--yes, it was still here, this miraculous coat made from gold, made of stardust. He breathed deeply. Get ready for Kenzie. He lifted his shaking fingers to his collar, his skin flushed, his mind aching.

--------

Duncan emerged twenty minutes later, gazing down at his sleeves, their gold mesmerizing. Morgan had laid the tailored black chinos that completed his look on a table next to the dress form, but he wore his signature Yves Wyatt boots on his feet still, and knew he’d wear them to the Gala as well; they complimented the look shockingly well. He moved over to Morgan’s oblong white table and pulled one of the white chairs closer to the center of the room, looping his long legs on either side of it, sitting carefully. The room was quiet, but he could hear the soft strains of Kenzie and Claire’s voices in the room beyond, the lilt of Kenzie’s excitement, and it was making his body vibrate with the desire to see her, his heart slamming painfully into his ribcage. He slid one hand along his jaw, index and middle fingers trailing along his bottom lip. Oh my fucking god, Kenz, I’m on fire waiting for you. He could feel the twinge of his cock straining under the tight chinos, wondered how he’d ever be able to stand the cock ring teasing him all night. I’m going to want to eat her alive by the end. He thought of the Bacchanalian revelry of The Youth of Bacchus, the dancing figures, stoked by a frenzy of wine and energy of a wanton god of ecstasy. It was as if he could feel that same energy beginning to stir around the corners of the day--could feel it being stoked up, being kindled, like the first strains of a tornado drifting down from a dark, stormy sky. The wild wine god comes tonight. He will stoke the lust of the people to debauchery, as now he pushes my senses toward my need for her. My Ariadne, draped in stars. Tonight, the party. Tonight, the wine god comes. He shivered.

The door Claire and Kenzie had disappeared into opened; Claire came out, Morgan behind her in her silent, cool way--Claire looked at Duncan approvingly, her eyes rapt.

“Wow, fuck, Duncan. You look fucking gorgeous. Not that you don’t always,” and she blushed deeply, a hand coming up to her cheek. “Everyone’s going to lose their shit. Okay, listen. Are you ready for this goddess?”

“Is it possible for me to be ready for this?” Duncan’s hand shook as he brought it down from his jaw, his question an earnest one to Kenzie’s best friend.

“Probably not. Take a deep breath.”

He shuddered one into his lungs. Make sure you breathe. He gave her a shaky nod.

“Kenzie,” Claire called through the doorway, stepping aside. Morgan moved to stand beside Duncan, for a longer view. “Your Prince is ready for you.”

For a moment no one stirred, then Duncan saw Kenzie’s little hand push at the door, pressing it open wider; an uncalculated moan fell from Duncan’s lips as he saw her, and he had to shut his eyes for a moment, had to catch his breath again, dizziness wiping over him, the ache in his cock returning full force. He forced his eyes open--she was staring at him, her mouth having fallen open, her eyes sparkling with sudden moisture, obvious even from the distance between them.

“Duncan,” she breathed.

“No, baby, no--you. You.”

Kenzie’s dress was gold.

Pure gold, a cascade of lamé that draped and pleated all around her, its opulent folds falling in drifts that hugged at her tiny waist and curving hips, gathering down to trail at the floor, her left leg visible above the thigh from a long slit that ran down the gown’s length. Its rivels, shimmering and weaving like the waves on the ocean’s surface, reminded him of how he’d always imagined the robes of the gods on Mount Olympus to appear; of a fabric not known to man, drifting as if in some phantom wind, too exquisite a fabric to be called silk, softer than the light of moonbeams on quiet forest floors in deepest night. One of the sleeves draped down her left arm, dipping almost to the crook of her elbow; the other lifted over her shoulder from a draping fold that began at the sharp tailoring at her waist and lifted over half the tailored bodice of the front of the gown, her breasts emphasized by two sewn cups and careful boning, outlining the form of her bust. Her throat and collarbones were bare, her skin exquisite in its whiteness above so much gold. The thin line of sleeve that went over her shoulder from the pleats continued to extend down her back--Kenzie turned, her eyes inside his, to show him the breathtaking drift of a long train that fell to the floor from her right shoulder blade, another rusch of fabric across her back below to her left shoulder. The train continued along the ground for several feet, its gold like spilled liquid, impossible in its lovely softness; the train of a princess, of a queen, of a goddess in a painting, a fairy tale come to life, and here she stands before me, somehow real, impossibly real. I should be struck dumb to behold her.

Kenzie turned back to him, and he could see the delicate bones of her clavicle quivering, the shiver of her golden hair over her shoulder, its waves like silk to him, the depth of the hazel of her eyes (ambrosia, the golden honey of holy bees, the green of emeralds, the russet of topaz and tiger’s eye). Her little hands were fumbling in front of her stomach, and the nervous curve of her mind was creeping up against him, like an electrical current. You look so fucking beautiful, baby, she was thinking, and the lump that rose in his throat threatened to shatter his composure.

Kenzie, it’s not me. It’s you. You’re a goddess. You’re truly a goddess. You’re too beautiful to describe. I don’t know if you can feel how I feel to look at you in this moment, but if you can even a little, you know I can’t...there are no words I know of. I can’t find words for how beautiful you are. You pierce my heart. I should build you a temple and leave you a garden of roses there every day. Duncan stood, his legs shaking. Claire and Morgan were quiet--they seemed to sense the intensity of the emotion that drifted in the room; Duncan heard Claire sniffing quietly, in tears.

Suddenly, quickly, Duncan and Kenzie had rushed together--his feet had carried him so quickly his mind seemed to follow after him, trying to catch up, and his hands were grasping hers with a tenderness that made his body ache, made his breath catch, they were falling, devotedly, down the easeful curve of the dress, the warmth of her body beneath it sending a shiver down his spine, the gold bracelet at his wrist disappearing into her gold, devoured by it.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he whispered. “Holy fuck.”

Persephone, my flower dipped in gold. Kenzie didn’t speak, but he knew she accepted the drift of his thought.

Hades, my shadowed prince draped in falling stars. She tilted her head to him, her little fingers coming up to drift over the caged golden tips of his collar as the diamonds at her wrist winked against the gold leaf of his velvet jacket, and she kissed him, her mouth a holy tremor on his lips, his prayer to her accepted, as it ever was.

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