#the AO3 fanfic is FILTHY

[centaur-dreaming]

All fic writers have that one document in their drafts that would end their entire career, social life, everything if anyone irl were to find it

[meleeallday]

For everyone that writes on ao3, thank. During these trying times, I really needed Bagginshield fics.

[miss-celestia13]

Mask On

Jake x MC - Smut One-Shot

The lovely @hacked-by-jake asked if I could write a smut scene inspired by this meme. I said yes, it’s been a while, and it was a lot of fun; I missed writing smut 🤭 all credit to HBJ; I wrote it, but it was her meme that inspired me enough to do so!

It's sex against a window! So they can watch themselves. And Jake can enjoy the visual of MC coming apart for him while wearing his mask.

It’s also available on Ao3.

With that out the way, I hope you enjoy it 🥰

The MC here is my Manon from Marked Me Like a Bloodstain and other stories. But you don’t have to read those to be able to read this. This is more of an “in another life, we might’ve done this instead” type of thing. It doesn’t fit their current timeline and can be read as its own story.

It is a dual POV. The names are in bold when they change.

———————-

The elevator ascended in slow motion. Or felt that way to Manon. She was a ball of frenetic energy as she stole glimpses of Jake from her periphery and edged ever closer. He was remarkably tight-lipped despite the filth that spilled from his lips a mere 24 hours before they arrived.

They were rising to the top floor of a swanky apartment complex he’d brought her to from the airport. She’d known he had a base home hidden in the city and was aware he had money stashed in secret accounts and cash buried in multiple places in Duskwoods forest. However, upon seeing this fancy building, she realized he was wealthy as she caught sight of the formally dressed doorman who required ID on entry and observed the expensive marble floors, polished to a dazzling shine, as they walked over them.

A thousand questions swirled in her overactive mind, but she kept it all inside as the elevator came to a sharp stop. Jake turned to her, a bashful smile curling the corners of his full mouth.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. It might be a bit of a mess.” He said, sounding uncertain.

She sidled closer, slipping her hand into his to squeeze, and smirked as she replied, “After all we’ve been through, do you really think a little dust will frighten me?”

He chuckled, lovely and deep, and she fought off a shiver as he led the way out the open doors and into a red-carpeted hallway. The beat of her heart went out of time as they approached a black door, and Jake took out his keys. She let go of his hand and stepped back, pretending she didn’t notice how his hand shook as he turned the key.

An eardrum piercing, loud, robotic screech sliced through the peaceful quiet between them, and Jake hurried inside, beckoning her with a hand as he punched in the code to shut off the alarms.

“Well, that would wake the dead, never mind frighten off an intruder.” She joked to lighten the tension, settling on Jake’s shoulders as he loosed a sigh once the alarm silenced.

As he said, “I couldn’t let myself get caught unawares,” he reached up and scratched the back of his neck, continuing, “It had to be loud enough that I’d hear it through my headphones.”

She nodded as they kicked off their shoes, surveying the expansive apartment as Jake locked the door. Her eyes skipped the other closed doors she assumed led to his bedroom and the room she’d seen in their first video call. The sparsely furnished space held little personality; the most dominant feature was a massive dark couch by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She suspected the stretched around the whole building.

“I’m guessing they treat those windows in a way that allows only you to see out and prevents anyone from looking in?” She asked when Jake seemed anxious about her thoughts on how he once lived.

He gave her a sly smirk and slid a hand around her waist to guide her into the living area before he spoke. She watched him in the window reflection.

“You guess right. I can’t have a drone appearing outside and catching sight of me.”

She wanted to cry for him, but knew he wouldn’t want her pity. Manon did what she did best—distracted him.

“And where do exhausted hackers sleep when they finally run out of caffeine?”

With a suggestive brow waggle, she turned to face him and grinned so extensively that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he could see her wisdom teeth.

Jake laughed, stepping closer and staring at her as he said, “We sleep wherever we fall. But I assume you’re looking to rummage through my bedroom. Unfortunately, you’ll be disappointed. There’s just a bed and a gun safe in there.”

“You really know how to get my blood going. Guns and a bed? What more could a girl want? Come on, show me!” She teased, grabbed his hand, and tugged until he allowed her to drag him behind her.

He laughed as she flung open the door and came to a stuttering halt.

“I warned you. I rarely used this room,” he said.

She cast her gaze around the ample space and shook her head. He hadn’t been lying. There was only a double bed and a safe cunningly disguised as a nightstand decorating the room. Or so she thought. Her feet were moving toward the black and white object hanging on a hook beside the bed. It was in her hands before she could recall giving her body the command to move.

Jake had worn the scuffed and cracked Guy Fawkes mask during his video calls. Without thinking, she turned it over and pulled the elastic attached to the back and shoved the mask over her head. It severely limited her peripheral vision, the hard plastic cut into her jaw, and it smelled slightly sweet and sour. A blend of chemicals and sweat, she thought.

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts she didn’t notice Jake had gone wholly still as though petrified.

“Don’t tell me you actually wore this on a regular basis? It’s terribly uncomfortable. I thought it was just for me, so I wouldn’t be able to describe you if Bloomgate ever got off his ass and did some work!”

There was a long pause, and Jake seemed to take a steadying breath as she cut her eyes to him. He practically trembled as she frowned at him.

“What’s wrong? Is there some strange rule that only you can wear this mask?” She enquired when he only fisted his hands and groaned softly.

He shook his head. His pupils had blown wide, black swamping the blue, and his fingers spasmed at his sides as though he wanted to reach for her. It hit her like a slap, and she grinned behind the mask, adopting a nonchalant stance as her muscles went loose and she sauntered closer to him.

“Are you going to answer me? Or has an invisible cat caught your tongue?”

It was as if she electrocuted him. He shuddered, blinked heavily, and said in a sheepish tone, “What were the questions?”

She choked down a gleeful laugh and swished her hips as she approached him. Her dress swirled around her knees as she moved and she lay a hand on his chest to feel the rapid fluttering under his skin.

“I asked if you really wore this mask while working, Jake. Keep up, love.” She taunted, tilting her head and tapping her fingers over his pounding heart.

Jake reached up and rested his hand over hers as he shook his head, grinning freely, saying, “It’s an annoying accompaniment to my lifestyle. I have faith in my ability to prevent people from getting through my intensive security measures. Still, if someone manages to view me through the webcam, they won’t see anything they can identify.”

“Clever. Handsome, intelligent, and you have a filthy mouth on you? Are you real, or am I dead and in heaven?” She said in a sing-song voice, edging into his personal space until her senses were filled with him. She reached up and shoved the mask up so it rested atop her head.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her and replied, “I don’t know about that, but I’m real. It’s you I’m wondering about.”

She smirked, winding her arms around his neck as she said, “And what are you wondering about me?”

Jake drew a deep breath, pulling her closer, eyes flicking to the mask on her head and back to her again.

“You’re wicked, infuriating, and so beautiful. I’m terrified I’ll mess you up.”

With a purr in her voice, she said, “If you don’t mess me up, I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

It wasn’t what he meant; she knew his fears of dragging her down with him, but she was prepared to fight for him. The air between them was electric. A thrumming current seeped under her skin and made her restless; her eyes dipped to his mouth. His gaze did the same to her, neither wanting to break the spell as the delicious tension threaded through them.

She felt like a moth at a candlelight vigil whenever she was around him—overwhelmed, unable to keep still, and desperate to share his light.

He pressed his forehead to hers. They were sharing breath, and her lips tingled as familiar impatience itched at her and demanded she push up on her toes and close the distance.

Time seemed to halt as she waited for him to make a move; her voice was little more than an airy breath as she said, “Do you want to kiss me now or later? Or both?”

His response was instantaneous. “Both.”

She chuckled, low and throaty, and said, “Good answer,” before taking the lead and digging her fingers into his hair to pull him down to her.

The first brush of his lips on hers was the sweetest. His deep groan as she plastered herself to his front and silently encouraged him to kiss her forcefully sent a wave of lovely heat rolling out from her center. He listened to her unspoken demand, much to her delight.

His hands splayed wide on her back. One slid up to cup the back of her neck, the other settled on the base of her spine and tugged her flush against his rapidly hardening cock. She almost whined as his bristled mouth bruised hers, coaxing her open, and his tongue slipped inside to slide along hers as she sighed in relief.

Glittering, scalding heat surged through her, turning her liquid between her thighs and making her hands shake as she lightly pulled his hair as though to drag him inside her. She forgot about seeing his hacker hideout as his sharp teeth nipped and his plush mouth ruled hers.

She wasn’t a religious woman, but when he kissed and touched her like this, she felt like she was holy. The silly, dramatic thought made her smile into his addictive lips as their breathing grew labored and their hands wandered.

She didn’t know where to touch first. All of him. Preferably draped all over her.

Her fingers roamed along his broad shoulders and back again, climbing up his neck to cup his bearded jaw as his tongue flicked in her mouth and his hands gripped her hips mean.

Chemistry sizzled between them like a pot of rich, thick molten chocolate begging to be indulged and she was nothing if not a greedy woman. His knee parted her thighs, and she whimpered as it pressed against where she burned for him.

The skimpy underwear she wore was already soaked as she wriggled against the hard length trapped between them and gave into the urge to grind down on his muscled thigh. Sparks shot through her like tiny lightning strikes. Their kissing turned wet, sloppy, and utterly filthy.

A thrill shimmered down her spine, setting her entire nervous system alight and making breathing difficult. What little air she could suck in. Jake stole it right from her mouth. Heat built to a blaze inside her and her empty cunt clenched in complaint as his hands moved to grasp her ass and began kneading her until she was in a frenzy of sensation and painful anticipation.

She nipped at his plump bottom lip, teeth sinking in and pulling, a whine leaving her as she felt him smirking into it. Her pulse flickered in her neck. The shake in her hands turned to a quake, and she needed him to touch her. She needed him to fuck her before she came out of her sweat and gooseflesh adorned skin.

He tasted wild and sweet and felt like home. A place she’d long given up finding until he appeared in her path. She was desperate to have him inside her.

Jake felt Manon’s distress as her body shivered and tautened under his hands. He hadn’t expected that her wearing the mask would have such a profound effect on him. His painfully hard cock twitched as he teased her tongue with his and bent at the knee, sliding his hands down the back of her parted thighs to grab hold of her and hoist her up.

Her legs wreathed around his waist and locked in place. Captivated by the little sounds she made and the way she fit perfectly into all his hollow spaces.

Her enveloping body was a warm embrace of sunshine, wrapping around him like a cocoon and melting the night’s chill from his bones. The heat emanating from her scalded him as he blindly walked over to the wall of windows and pinned her against it.

Freeing a hand, he flattened it on the window beside her head as his other hand tapped her thigh. She hesitated all of a second before catching on and unwound her legs from his waist as he reluctantly parted from her mouth to help her stand on weak knees. His heart trembled in his panting chest as she looked at him with eyes full of trust and smoky lust. Their emerald color had darkened to evergreen as she licked at her swollen lips and waited for his next move.

He eyed the mask perched precariously on her head and decided. She liked it when he bossed her around.

“Turn around, step back, and face the window.”

He moved away to give her space and smiled when she immediately did as he bid. The flimsy dress she wore had buttons from the neckline to the hem, all down her front, and his fingers itched to tug it open, but he held it back as she met his eye in the window reflection.

“Good. Now, put the mask on, Sweetheart,” he ordered in an undertone he barely recognized.

He watched her as she swallowed thickly and shifted on her bare feet. Time slowed to a crawl as he observed her hands lifting and grabbing the mask, slipping it down to cover her face as he nodded in approval.

A sparkling, fizzing sensation trickled down his spine and swirled in his lower back, sweeping through all of him and he was hard enough to hammer nails as he swept her long hair up in hand. He let the pale strands rest over her shoulder and dropped his head to the side of her throat he’d bared for his teeth.

He ran his nose down the elegant column of her neck and inhaled her warm, spicy scent and let it feed the desire racing through his bloodstream. She trembled as he brushed his lips over her rattling pulse and bit down. He banded an arm around her to keep her upright as she gave a muffled moan and her knees failed her.

The scent of her arousal, heavy with musk, was a humid warmth cloaking them both as he sucked and bit her skin, a swipe of his tongue over the small hurt so she murmured his name. His cock jumped at the sound of it. There were so many emotions packed into that four-letter name of his. He wasn’t entirely sure he deserved them yet, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

He glanced at the window as his hands moved to her full breasts and cupped them, enjoying the weight of them in his palms as he watched them in the night dark window.

Manon stopped seeing the incredible view of the city as Jake teased her sensitive flesh, nipples stiffening to hard peaks, and the wetness between her legs turned to a drenching flood.

If he didn’t have that devouring look in his eyes, she would feel foolish wearing the mask, but his feverish touch and harsh breathing conveyed his desire was at a level she had never seen from him. Excitement turned her legs to water as he grasped the neckline of her dress. She gasped in shock and giddy pleasure as he tore it wide open. The fragile buttons were no challenge for him. They popped free and clattered off the window as he hurriedly dragged it down her arms and exposed her nearly naked body to his starving eyes.

Sweat trailed down her face as she ignored the ache eating away at her fast failing patience. Her mouth went dry as she saw his reflection take off his t-shirt and jeans, hands fisting at her sides as she waited for his move. His boxers and socks soon joined the rest of clothes on the floor and his fiery body melted into hers from behind.

She ground her ass against his hard cock. Wetness dripped down her inner thighs as her mind skipped ahead and she needed him inside her before she exploded from the ardour burning through her. She luckily didn’t have to wait long before his large hands were on her again.

He latched his fingers into the elastic back of her mask and firmly pulled her head back. His other hand slid around her hip and traveled to her weeping cunt, teasing her soaked folds through her underwear. His fingertips traced the shape of her like a rhapsody, each taunting stroke composing a symphony of desire that echoed through her entire being.

Her head lolled against his chest as he shoved the lace covering her aside and met no resistance as he plunged two fingers into her tight cunt. The strangled moan that left her seemed to bounce off the walls as she felt herself clenching to keep him from leaving her body. Slick and so hot, he groaned. She couldn’t think as he played with her like he’d always known her body.

Her pounding heart and rushing blood muted all sounds as those fingers moved within her taut heat and she ground herself into his hand at his whispered urging. Her cunt clasped and unclasped as he grazed her clit and sent a trail of wheeling stars scattering across her bare skin.

The hand holding her mask slipped to wrap around her throat and the gentle squeeze he gave her was a warning of what was to come. She couldn’t wait for it. The simple action sent her heart thrumming, and she panted into the plastic covering her face. Any discomfort it might’ve caused blasted away by Jake’s obvious delight in it.

His touch unraveled her like a tightly bound scroll, releasing a cascade of longing and urgency that surged through her veins like liquid flame.

Suddenly, he removed his hands from her and stepped away, leaving her swaying as her head spun and she blinked stupidly as he whirled her to face him and ripped the mask off her. He dropped to his knees in front of her and did the same with her underwear, lifting her ankles one by one to help her step out of them. He tossed them both aside without a care as he crowded her until her overheated skin met the cold window. She hissed in shock as her head thudded back to meet his ravenous gaze.

“I want to taste my name on your tongue as I fuck you,” he said in a voice like a growl.

She squeezed her legs together to counter the ache as her empty cunt clamped around nothing and her essence glazed her inner thighs.

She formed three words, but they were enough. “Fuck me then.”

His smirk was salacious. They pounced on each other, and he quickly caught her. She extinguished his midnight chuckle with a dirty kiss and he trapped her between him and the window. He reached under her to palm his cock.

Her hips tilted as he ran the fat head of him through her saturated folds and sank inside her so fast she had no time to prepare as he stretched and filled her so completely she didn’t have room for the air in her lungs. Her nails clawed at his shoulders, mouth agape and gasping as his hand smoothed loose strands of damp hair away from her sweaty face.

The maddening pressure built and built as he remained unmoving to let her acclimate to his sudden invasion. Her hips rolled, and she used his shoulders for purchase to lift and drop back down, taking him to the hilt, both groaning as she slowly softened for him.

He muttered her name as he let her breathe and studied her face as she shook in his arms. Part of her worried the treatment on the windows only went so far and someone in the building across from them might get the show of a lifetime. But most of her didn’t care if that was true. Let them watch.

Jake had gone still, muscles jumping and quivering as she made soft little noises of frustration as that intense pressure demanded a release. Her skin stuck to the glass and there was an audible sound as he peeled her off it and he at last moved. Shallow darts of his cock inside her to open her up and rile her further.

His strength thrilled her, no strain as he hefted her up and finally, finally slammed her down on his rigid cock. Her rapturous cry of pleasure sliced through their heavy breaths and the vulgar smack of flesh meeting flesh. Fingers dug into her ass as he fucked her, planting violets and giving him more leverage to ruin her.

Every deep caress of his cock inside her dripping cunt set her ablaze, a wildfire of untamed passion consuming her as she surrendered to the exhilarating storm of sensation. When he kissed her, she clung to his hair, fingers weaving through the black strands until she could use it to hold him captive against her whining mouth.

He tasted like sin, felt like heaven and looked like hers all at once, and she could only hold on. It was as though someone had flain the first layer of her skin to expose her nerves. Even the whisper of air pressing against her skin as his hand braced on the window sent a bolt of fire down her torso.

His lips branding hers, his thumping heart that matched the beat of her own, and the heady, clean scent of his skin. She wanted to never forget a single detail. They had earned this. Through blood and sweat and fire, they had earned this and she would be damned if she didn’t take all he offered her. Tension coiled in her core as his thrusts fell out of rhythm and each one shunted her up the window.

As his tongue teased hers, she yanked on his hair, feeling owned by him and getting swept away. Drowning in the blistering sea of their shared desire. The heat in her abdomen grew out of control, but it was nothing compared to the fire she had kindled in Jake. All the awkwardness in him had vanished, and he fucked her like he’d never get the chance to do so again.

He stole moan after moan from her. The sanity eroding tension coiled and coiled until it drove her to the brink of insanity and made it impossible for her to breathe. Her stuttering hips, his thick cock, and her clenching cunt were all she knew, her throaty cries smothered against his stubbled lips as they rubbed her mouth raw.

Hovering on the brink of shattering, Manon sobbed and rocked her hips, freeing a hand from his hair. She worked it between them. The tense skin of her stomach flickered as her fingers ghosted over it and she kept going until she swirled them around her swollen clit.

“Fuck, Manon,” Jake cursed as her inner walls clamped down hard on his cock, making her smile.

A little helpless sound spilled from her as she toyed with herself and the tension in her drew so taut she arched. Jake pounded into her mercilessly, giving her no room to calm down. The sensations and lust were so intense her mind fractured with jagged white light and she struggled to withstand the tremendous pleasure ricocheting through her.

Her body convulsed as she circled her clit and pushed herself to the precipice. Jake sobbed into her mouth as he felt her clench around his cock, burying his face in her neck as his forceful thrusts slowed a little. Bursts of darkness speckled the edges of her vision as her orgasm sparked its warning.

Relief glimmered at the back of her mind as her back arched again and Jake lifted his head to see her face. His voice was a sinful melody she’d been searching for from the beginning of time.

“Come for me, Sweetheart. Take me with you.”

Any thoughts she had left disintegrated at his words. Her fingers swiped that bundle of nerves deliberately again and again. The rough glide of his heavy cock inside her threw her over the edge and she splintered into a million glistering pieces. His kiss smothered her warbling moan of his name as her cunt spasmed around his cock and sucked him in deeper, dragging him down with her as he slammed home one last time and they soon sank to the floor as his legs failed him.

Her twitching, useless body slumped and practically merged into his as he lazily drank from her mouth and ran soothing hands down her slick back. She felt every jump of his cock as he spilled into her, and her inner walls fluttered as the scalding waves of her release rippled out from her core.

How long they sat there in a complete knot of disheveled limbs, kissing and touching. She didn’t keep count. Just reveled in it and in him, as he silently told her he loved her. She shivered from the chill settling in the room at some point and he instantly broke away from her lips, concern in his cobalt eyes that she rushed to comfort.

“I’m just a little cold. Take me to bed and warm me up again.” She winked and smiled softly as the worry in his gaze cleared and he gave her a proud smirk as he eyed the bite mark he’d left on her neck.

“Your wish is my command,” he chuckled, but made no move to get up. She caught sight of the Guy Fawkes mask, and an enticing idea popped into her mind.

“After we sleep a bit and you’re able to go again, it’s your turn to wear the mask.”

A startled laugh burst from him as she nodded seriously and fixed her features into a haughty expression as he said, “Is that an order or a punishment for making you wear it?”

She gave an indolent shrug, committing his smile to memory and hoping to make good on her promise to christen every room in his apartment before they left for Duskwood. There was only one thing left to say.

“It can be both if you’re into it. Pain and pleasure, Jake,” she said in an imperious tone that made him shake his head and she patted his shoulder, jerking her head toward the bedroom door as she finished, “Come on, let’s get food and some sleep. You’ll need your strength later.”

——————————-

Thank you for reading. I hope it was worth your time. If you comment or reblog, thank you so much for that as well❤️

If I have time, I might write another part where Jake wears the mask. But I am busy with many other stories, and it won’t happen anytime soon.

I hope Sunday treats you well!

[doormatty3]

Blizzards and Beef Stew - Chapter 1 (Patrick Wilson x FOC)

Masterlist Ao3

Blizzards and Beef Stew Masterlink

Summary

[Patrick Wilson x Original Female Character] [Patrick Wilson x Original Character] Éléanor had always adored winter: its snow, its crisp air. But what she treasured most was retreating to her cosy cabin in the Swedish mountains. There, she could bake, sketch, and enjoy the solitude, far from the noise of the world. At least, that’s how it used to be—until a new neighbour arrived. Patrick Wilson was tall, charming, and with a smile that seemed to melt the coldest days. As they struck up a friendship, Éléanor found herself drawn to him, even though he remained oddly secretive about his last name and evasive about his work. But when a fierce snowstorm trapped them both, it became clear that Patrick might just be the warmth she needed in more ways than one. OR: Patrick uses his body to warm up Éléanor in the snowy mountains.

Wordcount: 3412

A/N: If you wanna be tagged for the next chapter - just let me know

Éléanor took a deep breath as she stepped out of her car, the crisp mountain air filling her lungs. Sweden was stunning at this time of year, with the snow-draped scenery stretching out before her like an untouched, pristine canvas. The snow shimmered under the midday sun, resembling a scattering of tiny jewels across the ground. Only delicate, winding animal tracks disrupted the thick, white layer that enveloped everything.

Tall, majestic pines loomed around her, their branches laden with snow, bending gently beneath its weight. Occasionally, a gust of wind would send a flurry of flakes tumbling from the branches. For a brief moment, Éléanor closed her eyes, enjoying the silence that enveloped her.

She focused on the sharp, icy air that bit at her cheeks and the gentle sound of snowflakes drifting down from the sky. A few flakes tangled in her hair, softly brushing her face before melting away. Éléanor smiled, savouring the tranquillity and the unmistakable chill of winter that she had missed so much.

With another deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked towards her little cabin, nestled among the towering pines. The wooden retreat, with its dark timber walls, stood in stark contrast to the snowy landscape. Frosted windows reflected the sun's soft glow, casting a warm, golden light across the snow-covered ground. Over the years, this place has become her sanctuary, where she returns every winter. No bustling café to manage, no customers to serve—just the stillness of nature and the quiet flow of her creativity.

She knew it would be bitterly cold inside, but her trusty fireplace would soon take care of that. Pulling her coat tighter around herself, Éléanor grabbed her bags from the back seat and took in the familiar sight of her cosy cabin.

The snow crunched under her boots as she trudged through the ankle-deep powder towards the front door, mentally noting that she would have to clear the path later.

With a push, she opened the door and sighed in relief.  Inside, the scent of aged pine wood welcomed her, and the warmth of the cabin sharply contrasted with the chill outside.

The place was small and rustic but perfect for her. A fireplace sat in the centre of the main room, with a plush armchair and a soft couch in front of it.  To the right was a small kitchen that always smelled faintly of fresh bread. In the far corner, large windows revealed a breathtaking view of the snow-covered mountains.

She set her luggage down by the door and took a moment to take it all in. A satisfied smile tugged at her lips.

She was home.

After shrugging off her coat and scarf, she unzipped her suitcase and carefully pulled out two of her most precious items. The first was her sketchbook, its well-worn cover filled with memories of past trips, sketches of café patrons and fleeting scenes from her travels. She held it fondly, flipping through a few pages to find her latest watercolour drawing—an old cathedral from back home in France, bathed in the golden hues of a setting sun. Smiling at the piece, she set the sketchbook gently on the small table by the window, a spot she knew she would spend countless hours by over the coming days.

Next, she reached into the suitcase and brought out a small, carefully wrapped container. Unwrapping it, she revealed her beloved sourdough starter, Jacques, alive and well, despite the journey.

“You made it, mon cher,” she whispered affectionately, holding the container close as if greeting an old friend. 

Jacques had been with her for years, travelling wherever she went, and every loaf of bread she baked carried a bit of home within it—he was an essential part of her café back home. She placed him on the kitchen counter and popped the lid off to let him breathe.

With Jacques settled and her sketchbook ready, Éléanor took the rest of her time to unpack, folding her clothes neatly into the cabin’s wooden dresser and laying out her art supplies.

Several days passed in peaceful solitude, just as Éléanor had wished.

Her mornings were spent sketching by the large window that overlooked the snowy forest; the light from the rising sun cast a golden glow over the snowy land, and she captured the way the rays shifted through the trees in delicate watercolour strokes. Afternoons were reserved for baking, as the enticing aroma of sourdough wafted through the cabin while she tried out various recipes, each loaf turning out more delicious than the last. In the evenings, she curled up by the fire with a good book, savouring the quiet and the crackle of the burning wood.

One evening, as she was tidying up after a long day of painting, her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Wiping her hands on a towel, she picked it up and smiled as her best friend's name appeared on the screen.

“Bonsoir, ma chérie!” Virginie’s voice was bright and lively, a stark contrast to the quiet surrounding Éléanor. The sound of music and laughter echoed in the background. “Guess where I am!”

Éléanor chuckled, already knowing the answer. “In Spain, of course. How wild is it this time?”

“Wild!” Virginie exclaimed, nearly shouting over the noise. “I’m at this incredible party—everyone’s dancing and I’m halfway through my second bottle of wine! You should see it, Éléanor. How are you surviving up there in the mountains, all by yourself?”

Éléanor laughed, picturing her best friend surrounded by a whirlwind of music, people, and bright lights. “You know I prefer the quiet. Besides, the snow is beautiful, and I’ve got my art to keep me busy.”

“Sure, sure, your art,” Virginie teased. “Let me guess, you’re sitting there with your sketchbook, sipping tea like some brooding artist.”

“Not just that,” Éléanor said, her voice light. “I’ve been baking too. Jacques has been very productive.”

There was a long pause, and then Virginie’s voice came back, incredulous. “Oh my God. Don’t tell me you actually brought the damn sourdough starter with you!” Éléanor could practically hear the eye-roll over the phone. “You seriously dragged Jacques all the way to Sweden?”

Éléanor grinned. “Of course I did. I couldn’t leave him behind; he’d die.”

“Éléanor,” Virginie groaned, laughter bubbling in her voice. “You’re ridiculous. You brought a jar of bacteria to your winter getaway. No wonder you’re still single—you’re in a committed relationship with bread dough! You really need to get laid, ma belle.”

Éléanor burst out laughing. “Hey, Jacques and I are very happy together, thank you very much.”

“I’m serious! You’re too young to be cooped up in the mountains with Jacques. What you need is to be at this party with me, drinking wine and meeting someone who isn’t yeast-based.”

Éléanor shook her head, still smiling. “Maybe next year, Virginie. But you know I love it up here. The peace, the quiet—no distractions. Just me, my art, and my bread.”

“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Virginie said dramatically. “But fine, if you want to keep having your mountain romance with Jacques, that’s on you. Just remember that I’m living my best life here! Next year, though, you’re coming with me. No more hiding away in the woods.”

“We’ll see,” Éléanor replied, though they both knew the answer. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Hm, I’ll take that as a maybe!” Virginie’s voice softened a little. “Don’t be too lonely, alright? I’ll be back in France soon, and we’ll catch up. Love you, ma belle.”

“Love you too, Virginie. Have fun!” Éléanor hung up, a fond smile lingering on her lips. Virginie’s energy was infectious, and their friendship balanced each other perfectly. While Virginie craved the buzz of parties and crowds, Éléanor preferred the stillness of moments like this—just her and the quiet comfort of the mountains.

She moved through her nighttime routine with the ease of familiarity. Brushing her teeth, washing her face, changing into warm pyjamas, and braiding her wild hair to keep it in check. She took one last look at her sketchbook, then at Jacques, making sure everything was in its place before heading to bed. The cabin was quiet; the silence was only broken by the distant howling of the wind outside.

As she drifted off to sleep, the peacefulness of the mountains surrounded her, a comforting embrace that lulled her into dreams of soft snow and watercolour landscapes.

In the dead of night, Éléanor stirred, hearing the faint crunch of tyres on the snow and the sound of a car engine rumbling outside. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding in the sudden silence that followed. It was rare to hear anything but the wind and the occasional call of an owl this far up in the mountains. Curious and slightly wary, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the window.

Pulling back the curtain just a fraction, she peered out into the dark night and noticed the soft glow of headlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating the cabin beside hers.

A man stepped out of the car, tall and broad-shouldered, his face hidden beneath the shadows of the night.  He unloaded bags from the trunk with practised ease. Éléanor’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t expected company up here. Most people avoided the mountains in the depths of winter unless they had a specific reason to be there.

Éléanor watched him for a moment, her curiosity piqued. The neighbouring cabin was often vacant during the winter, so it was unusual to see anyone here, especially at this hour. He moved quickly and efficiently without much noise. Maybe he was just another quiet visitor, someone like her, seeking solitude.

With a quiet huff, she pulled back from the window and returned to bed. She wasn’t here to meet strangers. Seclusion was what she’d come for, and that’s what she intended to keep—no matter who had arrived next door.

Still, as she drifted back to sleep, a part of her wondered who he was and why he was here in the same remote corner of the world.

_____

The next morning, she woke to a bright, crisp day. The sunlight streamed through the large cabin windows, illuminating the fresh snowfall that blanketed the landscape outside. The snow glittered under the early light, creating a world that looked almost magical, untouched, and pure.

Still wrapped in the warmth of her bed, Éléanor let out a soft sigh, listening to the silence that filled the cabin. It was the kind of quiet she craved—no sounds of cars or people, just the occasional soft creak of the old wood settling and the gentle crackle of embers from the fireplace. She loved these mornings. The snow had a way of making everything feel slower and more peaceful.

Stretching lazily, she threw on a thick sweater and made her way to the kitchen, her bare feet padding against the cool wooden floors. The familiar sight of her sketchbook left open from the previous night’s work, caught her eye, and she smiled as she passed it. The half-finished watercolour of the mountains stood stark against the white paper, still waiting for the finishing details.

She filled the kettle with water and began preparing her usual morning tea, humming softly to herself. The cabin smelled faintly of pine and the lingering scent of sourdough bread from the previous day.

Just as the kettle started to whistle, a knock at the door interrupted the stillness. Éléanor frowned, glancing at the door in surprise. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Cautiously, she walked over to the front door and opened it, the rush of cold air making her tighten her sweater around herself. 

Standing on her porch was the man she had seen arriving last night—the one who had moved into the neighbouring cabin. He was bundled up against the cold, his thick jacket dusted with snow as his broad-shouldered frame filled the doorway. 

She noticed his striking face: a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and a straight nose that gave him an effortlessly handsome look. Beneath the knitted hat that covered his ears, wisps of light brown hair peeked out, and a trace of stubble ran along his jawline, growing denser along his upper lip.

His breath puffed in small clouds as he smiled at her, his blue eyes catching the light of the morning sun. 

Éléanor blinked, momentarily distracted by how impossibly good-looking he was. He looked like someone who should have been on a magazine cover rather than standing on her snow-covered porch.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a smile that was equal parts charming and boyish. “I’m Patrick. I’m staying next door.”

His voice was smooth, deep, and easy, with a friendly tone that instantly made her feel at ease. Despite the cold air biting at her cheeks, Éléanor couldn’t help but feel warmth spreading through her.

She hadn’t expected him to introduce himself, let alone in person. His presence felt oddly natural, though, as if he belonged in this quiet landscape. Still, it took her a moment to respond.

“Hi,” she finally said, offering a small smile in return. “I’m Éléanor. Nice to meet you.”

Patrick’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I was just shovelling the snow off my driveway,” he explained, nodding toward his cabin. “Figured I’d offer to do yours, too, since I’m already out here.”

Éléanor blinked, caught off guard by his offer. She wasn’t used to anyone offering to help in these parts—usually, everyone who came to the mountains was looking for the same solitude she was. But there was something in his demeanour that felt genuine and unassuming.

“Oh,” she hesitated, glancing at her snow-covered driveway. “That’s very kind of you, but you really don’t have to.”

Patrick interrupted with a light shrug. “It’s no trouble. It’s not like I have much else going on today.”

His easygoing nature and the relaxed way he stood there, his breath puffing in the cold air, made it hard for Éléanor to refuse. She smiled despite herself, her cheeks flushing—not just from the cold.

“Well, if you’re sure… then thank you,” she said softly.

He gave her a friendly nod and turned to walk back down her porch steps, heading towards his own cabin to grab a shovel. His movements were smooth and purposeful, and something about how he carried himself made it clear he was used to being in control. He moved with confidence but not arrogance—just a natural, effortless ease.

As he began shovelling, Éléanor couldn’t help but admire him from the warmth of her cabin. 

His strong arms worked steadily as he cleared the snow, his shoulders flexing under his jacket with each movement. She was mesmerised by the way the light played off his sharp features, the concentration on his face as he worked, and the quiet determination in his posture.

Unable to resist, she reached for her sketchbook. She pulled it towards her and settled by the window, the natural light casting soft shadows across the page.

Her fingers quickly flew across the page as she began sketching his form — his strong, defined lines against the snow, the contrast of his dark jacket against the bright white. She sketched him from different angles, flipping through the pages and trying to capture every detail: the way he held the shovel, the curve of his back, and even the way the sunlight glinted off the snow in front of him.

Soon enough, she added watercolours, bringing the scene to life with soft washes of blues and greys to reflect the snowy landscape and the warm hues of his complexion.

Before long, Patrick had finished, and the driveway was now clear of snow. Éléanor watched as he wiped the back of his hand across his brow, exhaling a puff of visible breath. She watched as he took a step back, admiring his work for a brief moment before glancing back toward her cabin.

Éléanor snapped her sketchbook shut, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. She had just spent the last hour drawing him without his knowledge, and she wasn’t sure how he would react if he knew. 

Deciding to thank him properly, Éléanor brewed a fresh pot of tea and poured two steaming mugs. She bundled herself up and stepped out onto the porch, her boots crunching on the freshly cleared snow.

“Patrick!” she called out, holding up one of the mugs. “I made you some tea. Thought you might want something warm after all that work.”

Patrick glanced up, a smile tugging at his lips. He wiped his hands on his jacket and made his way towards her. As he took the mug from her, their fingers brushed for a moment, and Éléanor felt a tiny, unexpected spark shoot through her. The casual intimacy of the touch caught her off guard, and she couldn’t help but steal a glance at his hands.

His hands, though warm from holding the mug, were still slightly reddened from the cold. They were large and strong, with well-defined knuckles and carefully groomed nails. Éléanor quickly looked away, hoping he had not noticed her lingering gaze.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip of the tea. “Perfect timing.”

They sat down on the porch steps together, the steam from their mugs swirling into the cold air. The world around them was still and silent. The only sounds were the distant wind and the crunch of snow underfoot as the snow-capped mountains glistened under the sun.

“So,” Patrick started after a few sips, “what brings you up here? You live around here, or are you just visiting?”

Éléanor shook her head. “No, I’m from France originally. I run a café back home with my best friend, but I come here every winter to take a break…It’s kind of my personal retreat.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely impressed. “France, huh? I would’ve guessed Europe from your accent, but I didn’t know where exactly.”

She chuckled softly, her cheeks warming. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty noticeable.”

“Trust me, it’s not a bad thing,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers briefly, and the sincerity in his voice made her blush a little more. 

The sunlight caught his eyes as he spoke, making them an even brighter blue—like the sky on a perfect day, clear and inviting. Éléanor found herself momentarily lost in them, wondering how a man could have eyes like that, so sharp yet kind. 

“What about you?” she asked, turning the conversation back to him. “What brings you to these mountains?”

Patrick shrugged, taking another sip of tea. “Same as you, I guess. Needed to get away, clear my head. It’s hard to find this kind of quiet anywhere else.”

Éléanor found herself nodding along, appreciating the easy flow of conversation. Despite his rugged, handsome appearance, Patrick didn’t seem to have the air of someone looking to impress or be impressed. He was easygoing and comfortable in his own skin, and it put her at ease.

“So, what do you do when you’re not shovelling strangers’ driveways?” she asked, giving him a teasing smile.

Patrick chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “I’m in… entertainment, I guess you could say,” he said vaguely, his tone nonchalant.

Éléanor didn’t press further. She didn’t have much interest in prying into someone’s life, especially when she had come here for peace and solitude. For now, Patrick was simply a kind man who had helped her out—and, as it turned out, was excellent company.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their tea and gazing out at the snowy landscape. Patrick’s broad shoulders were relaxed as he leaned back slightly, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the fabric of his jeans hugging the strong lines of his thighs.

As their conversation drifted back to light topics—the weather, the beauty of the mountains—Éléanor couldn’t help but wonder about the man sitting next to her. There was something familiar about him, something that tugged at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t quite place it.

But she let the thought slip away. For now, it didn’t matter. 

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, warming the porch ever so slightly, Éléanor realised just how much she was enjoying Patrick’s company.

“You know,” Éléanor said thoughtfully as she glanced over at Patrick, “I’m not used to having company up here. But… this is nice.”

Patrick looked at her, his expression softening. “Yeah. It is.”

[emmg]

ao3 author: this chapter is very explicit, I’m sorry for anyone who is uncomfortable with this

me, an intellectual: my brother in Christ, I’ve read and composed things that would make God himself file a restraining order *lights a cigarette* you think this is gonna scare me? I’ve been desensitized since the fanfic trenches of 2012

[bijouxcarys]

Allure (Brian May x fem!Reader)

Masterlist

This has been on my Ao3 since June, but I thought I’d put it on here properly. This is probably the filthiest Bri fic I’ve ever written… I’m proud of it🥲

NSFW, minors dni

Summary: You slip up at work. Luckily for you, Brian May can get anyone out of anything…

Tags: @whothefuckisanja @celestial-dragoness you don’t have to read this, but I thought I’d tag you just in case 🥹

It started off as any other day. Up at 7am, shower by 7:30am, breakfast by 8am, out the door by 8:30am.

Except, this wasn't an ordinary day. Not by a long shot.

I guess I should have been more prepared for the fact that my job as a journalist meant I'd have to speak to some pretty well-known folk here and there. Granted, I was only an apprentice journalist, but I should have known it wouldn't be so easy.

There I was, stood by my front door, at 8:31, debating whether or not I was right for this career. And I was tempted to turn, disrobe, and bury myself in the covers of my bed until the apocalypse came.

My mentor, Candice, had thirty years on me, and twenty years of experience in the field, so I trusted that she would be blunt and honest with me about what I should expect when interviewing somebody of high status. She just didn't warn me about how important this experience would be for me.

But then again, I'm not sure anybody could have prepared me for what was to come.

I managed to make it to the car park, however, of where Candice and I had set to meet, just shy of ten o'clock. I still wasn't 100% sure where abouts in London we were heading that day, as I was just told to bring an overnight bag due to the possibility of having to stay at a hotel, depending on how long we would be. Turns out, we were going to Germany by the Eurotunnel.

But, man, did I know who I'd be in the presence of that day. I'd thought about nothing else for weeks.

It was June 14th, 1998 – Brian May had just released his second solo album 'Another World' two weeks earlier, and it was my job to assist on the interview he was set to do with Isabelle Brinkman. She wasn't that much older than me, but definitely had more experience. I wasn't at that point in my career yet where I could conduct interviews myself. I just had to sit on the side and naively watch as somebody who could do the job better did it instead. To top it all off, I was merely there to take notes from a translator, as I did not understand a single word of German. That made it all the more terrifying for me. Perhaps they just wanted to see how I would adapt to a foreign setting.

As Candice and I stepped foot into the studio in which TMF conducted their interviews, a sense of anticipation permeated the air. Our rendezvous with Isabelle awaited us, serving as a prelude to the highly anticipated interview. While the interview itself was schedules for later that afternoon, the studio surroundings provided me with ample opportunity to acclimate myself to the dynamic atmosphere that awaited me. It was a chance to familiarise myself with the intricacies of the environment I was about to enter—a world where words held immense power and where every question had the potential to unravel hidden truths.

As the minutes ticked away, my mind oscillated between nervous excitement and a profound realisation. I would soon find myself in the presence of none other than Brian May himself—a legendary figure whose musical contributions had resonated with generations. The magnitude of this encounter began to sink in, and with it came a mix of awe and trepidation. Thoughts swirled in my mind as I pondered the upcoming exchange—how would I react in his presence? Would I have able to articulate myself with the clarity and precision they deserved? Hopefully I wouldn't have to actually speak to him... Just being in his presence was privilege in itself.

Yet, amidst these swirling thoughts, a flicker of determination emerged. I reminded myself that this was an extraordinary opportunity—an invitation to engage with a living legend, to witness him delve into the depths of his creative process, and to extract insights that would captivate audiences around the world. With each passing moment, I sought solace in the knowledge that, despite any apprehension, this experience was a testament to the trust placed in me by my more-established peers. I was being given a chance to contribute, even if it was from the side, to the legacy of Brian May—and artist who, I believed, had shaped the very fabric of music.

As the hours stretched before me, I endeavoured to channel my nervous energy into thorough preparation. I immersed myself in research, diving into Brian May's two albums, and reading through archived interviews he had done before, mostly so I could strike out any repetitious questions Isabelle may have had prepared for him. But I also was just intrigued by him, and I wanted to know what I was going to be in the presence of. Through my research, every lyric, every note, every word, became a mosaic of inspiration.

The late 80s proved to be quite a tumultuous period for him regarding his relationship with the media, and his relationships in general. An intricate dance between his public persona and the unyielding scrutiny of the media.

I wasn't totally naïve. I was acutely aware of the parasitic nature that permeated our realm—a cesspool of opportunistic souls who revelled in tearing down the very individuals they claimed to admire. Yet, I steadfastly refused to succumb to that dark allure. My fascination lay in unravelling the enigmatic tapestry of these extraordinary beings, basking in the brilliance of their craft, rather than dismantling their lives for the mere pleasure of it.

To me, celebrities were not objects to be consumed, but multifaceted individuals with their own joys, struggles, and insecurities. Their private lives, as tempestuous or serene as they might be, had no bearing on the rest of the world. Behind the glamour of their fame, they were simply human beings, not so dissimilar from you and me, navigating the labyrinthine paths of existence.

I approached my work with an unwavering respect, seeking to bridge the gap between the public and these luminaries, offering glimpses into their creative realms rather than prying open their vulnerabilities. I yearned to understand the essence of their artistry, to unearth the inspiration that fuelled their endeavours, and to convey their stories with the reverence they deserved. It was a mission guided by empathy, driven by an insatiable hunger to celebrate and preserve the legacies these individuals were shaping. Not destroy them.

While others revelled in salacious scandals and gossip-laden headlines, I found solace in the sacredness of their artistic endeavours. I revelled in the melodies that stirred souls, the words that painted vivid landscapes, and the performances that transported audiences to ethereal realms. It was this inherent love for the craft, this yearning to explore the inner workings of these extraordinary talents, that propelled me forward amidst the chaos.

So, the public image of Brian May that derived from the late 80s and the scandal involving his affair with his current partner, Anita Dobson—the scandal that whipped the media landscape into a frenzy wasn't of interest to me. I clung to my convictions, navigating the treacherous terrain with a blend of naivety and determination. I understood that the world I inhabited was stained by the shadows of exploitation, but I remained resolute in my pursuit of genuine connection—the kind that transcended gossip and scandal, diving deep into the heart of creativity, and fostering a genuine appreciation for the luminous souls who graced our stages and screens.

However, that changed slightly once I actually saw the man.

As I found myself standing in the formidable presence of Brian May, a wave of energy cascaded over me, leaving me utterly entranced. It was as if the very air crackled with a magnetic force that defied description. In that moment, any semblance of composure or rational thought disintegrated before my eyes. Within the first fifteen minutes of his arrival at TMF, Brian May effortlessly shattered my preconceived notions, transforming into an awe-inspiring figure who commanded attention and reverence.

The sight of him was nothing short of breathtaking—an embodiment of perfection that seemed plucked from the realms of mythology. His chiselled features bore the unmistakable mark of divinity, as if the gods themselves had sculpted his visage with meticulous care. The symphony of his presence reverberated through the room, overpowering every other sensory experience. It was impossible to avert my gaze as he greeted everyone on set; I witnessed the personification of physical beauty in its purest form.

I didn't approach the welcome committee. I stood as far away from them as I could, trying to act inconspicuous and making myself as invisible as possible as I observed.

A cascade of dark curls framed his face and sat, slightly draping, over his shoulders, their lustrous strands captivating the light and casting an ethereal glow around him. His eyes, a mesmerising kaleidoscope of celestial depth and hazel intensity, even from this distance, seemed to hold the wisdom of ages. They were windows into the realm of profound emotion, reflecting a captivating blend of passion, intellect, and sensitivity.

Every contour of his face, every sculpted angle, exuded an aura of strength and grace—a testament to the artistic precision with which he was formed. His strong jawline bespoke of resilience and determination, while his lips, seemingly touched by the same gods that created his being, were etched with a subtle hint of enigmatic allure. And when he smiled, it was as if the sun had emerged from behind the clouds, illuminating the room with an effervescent radiance.

I instinctively lowered my head, trying to blend into the background as he navigated his way through the crowd in the studio, a sea of eager faces vying for his attention. Perched on a small stood, clutching a notebook and pen tightly in my hands, I silently prayed that I would go unnoticed. The last thing I wanted was to embarrass myself in front of him. It was safer to keep my distance and retreat into the safe haven of my own fantasies.

"Didn't fancy joining the rest of them?"

His voice, soft and melodious, pierced through the clamour of the room, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach, leaving me momentarily breathless. Summoning every ounce of courage, I swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath, lifting my gaze to meet the man who had taken my breath away mere moments ago. From my seated position, his commanding presence loomed above me, radiating an aura of undeniable power. I had to tilt my head upwards, straining my neck to meet his piercing gaze.

"I'm Brian," he introduced himself, extending his hand towards me. My throat felt dry and raspy, a nervous rasp that I quickly cleared before attempting to speak. I timidly reached out, expecting a perfunctory handshake, but instead, my smaller hand was enveloped firmly within his, a testament to his unyielding determination.

"I know who you are, Mr. May," I managed to murmur, hoping he would perceive my passive greeting, one that he had received from everyone else, as a signal to proceed with the scheduled interview alongside Isabelle, who was comfortably seated on the cream-coloured sofa amidst the orangey décor of the set.

"Don't you have a name?" His low chuckle reverberated through the air, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to the encounter. I could feel his gaze penetrating through me, raising an inferno of sensations within. It was both exhilarating an unnerving.

"What?" I stammered, my voice betraying my awe, caught off guard by his presence.

"What's your name, love?" he inquired, his words laced with a mixture of warmth and intrigue.

"Y/N," I replied, my voice barely audible, resembling a small squeak that escaped from my lips.

He didn't respond immediately, but a final squeeze of my hand conveyed more than words ever could. A smile graced his lips, a smile that could rival the radiance of the sun before he turned to continue his path towards Isabelle.

I quickly realised that resistance was futile. The power he held over me was undeniable, a force that stripped away my inhibitions and left me vulnerable, willingly surrendering to his captivating energy. The sheer magnetism and allure he emanated transcended mortal boundaries, weaving a spell that ensnared me completely. Every facet of his being—the physical, the intellectual, the artistic—melded seamlessly, forging an embodiment of perfection that surpassed the realm of ordinary mortals.

From that moment on, I understood that my perception of beauty had irrevocably changed. Before me stood a true titan, a modern-day manifestation of the gods themselves.

During the course of the interview, Brian effortlessly settled to the plushness of the sofa, exuding an air of both confidence and ease. His body language commanded attention, with one arm casually draped across the backrest, and his other leg bent upon the cushions, positioning himself towards Isabelle with captivating allure. However, my attempts to absorb the content of their conversation proved futile as my gaze became entranced by his mesmerising presence.

From my vantage point, I relished the opportunity to observe him from a distance, allowing my eyes to linger appreciatively on his impeccable attire. A navy-blue two-piece suit enveloped his frame with sartorial perfection, accentuating his refined taste and sense of style. Beneath the well-tailored blazer, a crisp white shirt peeked through, its top buttons undone, revealing a tantalising glimpse of his sun-kissed upper chest. The subtle contrast of his slightly tanned skin against the pure white fabric was a testament to his natural allure and radiance.

Adorning his neck were two carefully chosen necklaces, their delicate details harmonising flawlessly with his complexion. Each pendant seemed to dance in unison, subtly emphasising his features and drawing attention to his undeniable charm. The interplay between these intricate accessories and the warm tones of his skin created a symphony of visual aesthetics, highlighting his magnetic presence.

Amidst the flurry of the interview, my eyes were irresistibly drawn to his captivating appearance. Every intricate detail of his attire beckoned for closer inspection, each aspect a testament to his impeccable style and timeless elegance. The room faded into the background as my gaze became fixated on the contours of his form, the way his clothing accentuated his stature, and the natural grace with which he carried himself. It was a visual feast, an opportunity to savour the beauty that surrounded him, and I couldn't help but be captivated by his magnetic charm.

Fortuitously, a small earpiece nestled in my ear, providing a direct channel to the translation of Isabelle's introduction and any other German dialogue that followed. But more significantly, it granted me an intimate connection to the melodic cadence of Brian May's voice. The mere thought of his voice coursing through that earpiece ignited a surge of anticipation within me. Little did I know that the experience that awaited me would transcend all expectations.

As Isabelle initiated the conversation, a symphony of words flowed through the airwaves and gently caressed my eardrums. And then, there it was—Brian May's voice, like warm butter gliding smoothly across my senses. The velvety timbre carried a magnetic quality that effortlessly captivated the listener. Each word resonated with a seductive charm, a richness that wove a tapestry of emotions within me.

The power of his voice was unparalleled, evoking a multitude of sensations that transcended the realm of rationality. It wrapped around my consciousness, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and enchantment. Every syllable held a certain allure, drawing me deeper into his world, where time seemed to stand still.

The boundaries of reason crumbled, leaving only the ethereal essence of his voice, a sonic embrace that caressed the very core of my being. It was a voice that defied age, carrying the wisdom and maturity of a man who had traversed five decades of life. Each information exuded a richness and depth, a testament to a life well-lived and experiences etched into the fibres of his being.

As his words reached my ears, I found myself spellbound, unable to resist the intoxicating allure that emanated from his every utterance. It was as though his voice held the power to awaken desires and emotions that lay dormant until that very moment. The experience was nothing short of transformative.

In that fleeting moment, I could have sworn that Brian's hazel eyes, though perhaps coincidental, locked onto mine from a distance. It could have been a passing thought, a random gaze that happened to intersect with mine, but the impact was undeniable. The weight of his attention, even if momentary, unleashed a surge of emotions within me.

Under the piercing intensity of his hazel gaze, a tempest of sensations coursed through my body, sparking an unfamiliar and overwhelming response. A wave of desire washed over me, as if an invisible force had taken hold of my very core. Unbeknownst to him, his mere presence had ignited a primal longing that rendered me powerless, leaving me trembling in its wake.

In that profound instant, my purpose became blurred, and the world around me faded into insignificance. The boundaries of my job seemed trivial, overshadowed by an insatiable craving to bask in Brian May's dominance and surrender myself to his every whim. The realisation struck me with an intensity that was as terrifying as it was intoxicating.

The clenching of my thighs, an involuntary response to the overwhelming desire that surged within me, was a physical manifestation of the inner turmoil I grappled with. It was a battle between reason and raw passion, where reason ultimately stood no chance against the allure of Brian's commanding presence.

Throughout the unfolding interview, a subtle dance of power and desire materialised between Brian and I. With each passing moment, I became increasingly aware that that gaze that I had noticed before was in fact for me.

It was a captivating display of dominance, a silent declaration that sent a shiver down my spine.

As the questions flowed, Brian's eyes kept meeting mine with a compelling force, even with myself being well-hidden behind the camera set-up. His presence enveloped me, it was a game of seduction, a battle for control, as his penetrating eyes sought to unravel the depths of my desires.

With each subtle shift of his body, a wave of power emanated from him, asserting his dominance over the room. His confident posture and deliberate movements spoke volumes, conveying an unspoken command that ignited a fire within me. I found myself willingly succumbing to his overwhelming presence, yearning to explore the unspoken desires that lingered in the air.

Through the veil of professionalism, his eyes whispered secrets that stirred a primal response within me. In their depths, I glimpsed a hunger, a hunger that mirrored my own, as if he were daring me to embrace the intoxicating allure of submission. It was a dance of power and surrender, an unspoken invitation to explore the depths of passion under his watchful gaze.

He spoke with Isabelle, showing her the album cover, his fingers grazing over parts that he detailed. But the electricity that crackled between us grew more potent with each passing second. His dominant presence commanded my attention, drawing me further into a world where his desires and mine entwined. In the recesses of his eyes, I discovered a realm where control was relinquished, and the boundaries of pleasure were pushed to their limits.

But as the interview continued, I was left with a lingering uncertainty. Was it merely a game of dominance, a tantalising tease to stoke the flames of desire? Or did his eyes convey a deeper truth, an unspoken invitation to submit to his commanding presence? Or, perhaps, I had been utterly spellbound by that man's presence that every little thing he did translated as sexual and intoxicating seduction. The questions lingered, suspended in the air, as the energy between us remained tantalisingly unresolved.

As the interview drew to a close, a lingering sense of anticipation remained. He had created uncharted territory, without him even knowing—unless he did know... I'm still not sure.

Suddenly, the world around me seemed to fade into the background as Brian's presence intensified. Time slowed to a crawl, and every detail of his captivating demeanour etched itself into my memory. Isabelle's closing remarks echoes in the room, yet my attention remained fixated on the enigmatic figure before me.

A mischievous smirk played upon Brian's lips, radiating confidence and a hint of playful intrigue. His eyes, like pools of intensity, surveyed the room with a subtle air of dominance. A glass of water rested in his hands, his long, slender fingers tracing a mesmerising path along the rim, leaving a trail of anticipation in their wake.

It was then that a startling realisation washed over me. Throughout the entire interview, my hand had unconsciously clung tightly to the pencil, rendering it immobile. As I reluctantly tore my gaze away from Brian's captivating presence, I glanced down at my neglected notebook, only to discover its pristine pages untouched by a single word.

A mix of awe and bewilderment coursed through my veins. How had I become so utterly transfixed by his presence that I had neglected my professional duties? It was as if time had suspended itself, and my sole purpose had shifted from capturing his words to capturing the essence of his being.

The blank pages of my notebook served as a stark reminder of the power he had over me, and in that moment, I understood the depth of his allure and the undeniable impact he had on those in his orbit. As the weight of the realisation settled upon me, a mixture of embarrassment and fascination flooded my senses.

An overwhelming wave of panic washed over me as I sat there, paralysed by the realisation of my negligence. The enchantment that had held me captive for the past twenty minutes shattered, leaving me vulnerable to the harsh reality that awaited. Candice, my ever-watchful colleague, would undoubtedly discover my failure, and her disapproval would be swift and scathing.

My heart pounded against my ribcage like a drum, its frantic beats mirroring the chaotic thoughts racing through my mind. How could I have allowed this to happen? The dream of advancing my career, of one day becoming a renowned journalist, now seemed like an elusive mirage, fading away before my very eyes.

Self-recrimination echoes through my thoughts like a relentless chorus. The weight of my own stupidity bore down upon me, squeezing the air from my lungs. I berated myself for succumbing to the allure of Brian's presence, for allowing it to eclipse my responsibilities. The consequences of my foolishness loomed over me, casting a shadow of doubt and regret.

The sound of Candice's voice calling my name snapped me back to the present. Her stern tone pierced through the haze of my thoughts, jolting me to action. It was time to face the consequences, to confront my failure head-on, and accept the repercussions of my actions.

I watched as Candice approached with an expectant expression. Dread coiled in the pit of my stomach, knowing all too well what awaited me. With every step she took, my heart sank deeper into the depths of remorse.

Candice's sharp eyes scanned the notebook in front of me, her gaze narrowing in disbelief. The realisation hit her like a tidal wave as she noticed the pages, void of any lead reflections from the interview. A mix of disappointment and fury twisted her features, and I braced myself for the inevitable scolding.

The room seemed to hush, the air thick with uncomfortable tension, as Candice's voice boomed through an angry whisper. "What on Earth is this, Y/N?" A collective murmur rippled through the small bunches of people that surrounded us as curious eyes turned toward our direction.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, my gaze dropping to the floor, unable to meet the accusing eyes of my colleagues. Shame wrapped around me like a suffocating shroud, tightening with every word that spilled from Candice's lips. Her reprimand echoed in the silence, a blistering reminder of my failure, and I swallowed hard, my throat constricted by a mixture of guilt and embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry, Candice. I got caught up in the moment, and I just... completely forgot to write anything down, I promise it won't happen agai—"

"You were given a responsibility, and you let it slip away because you were too mesmerised by the answers? This is not acceptable, do you understand how poorly this reflects on our team?" Her eyes narrowed, and her voice was laced with irritation.

"I know, I'm truly sorry. It was a lapse of judgement."

Candice's scolding continued, her words filled with a mixture of reprimand and concern for my professional growth. The weight of her disappointment pressed upon me, intensifying my remorse.

A peculiar sensation tingled at the back of my neck whilst my supervisor continued to reprimand me in the corner of this studio, drawing my gaze elsewhere and hoping she would stop soon so I could just go home and bury myself in the covers of my bed. I met the intense gaze of Brian May, who hadn't left yet, much to my demise, and watched the scene unfold from a distance. His eyes held a mix of curiosity and intrigue, remaining an observer, captivated by the drama playing out before him.

It was a moment of profound humiliation, and yet, there was something strangely captivating about the way Brian watched. His silent presence added an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere. It was as if he recognised the vulnerability within me, the weight of my mistake, and found a fascination in the spectacle.

As Candice walked away, her words lingered in the air, mingling with a mix of determination and self-reflection. I felt the stinging of tears in my eyes from the sheer embarrassment of my lack of competence. I rested my elbows on my knees, bringing the notebook up to my face and burying my head in it in shame.

I stayed there for as long as I could, not wanting to meet the judgemental gazes from those around me, and it had cleared out somewhat by the time I decided to actually stand up and gather my things. The bottle of water I had with me had been completely dried out from the constant sips I had to take whilst watching Brian's interview. My mouth was dry from Candice's scolding, and I whined under my breath just from the thought of anything else going wrong today.

It can't have been that far after four in the afternoon when I was collecting myself in the hallway of the studio, preparing to get a taxi back to the Euro so I could fuck off home and never emerge from my bed ever again. But before I could make my hasty exit, a soft voice called out, interrupting my thoughts.

"Excuse me?" the voice said, drawing my attention. I looked up, my eyes still slightly watery from the threats of tears, only to lock gazes with the very person who had inadvertently disrupted my responsibilities. It was none other than Brian himself, standing a few paces away, holding out the empty notebook towards me. "Sorry to disturb you, but, uh, you left this in the studio."

Confusion mingled with surprise as I furrowed my eyebrows, my emotions still raw from the earlier events. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously reached out, accepting the notebook from him. My voice quivered slightly as I murmured my thanks, unable to meet his gaze for more than a fleeting moment.

Concern etched across his face, Brian leaned against the wall, hands tucked casually in his pockets. The audacity of his next words caught me off guard, a mixture of bluntness and subtle insult towards Candice.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. "I couldn't help but notice you being lectured by an old sow earlier."

My surprise turned into astonishment, my eyes widening at his audacious remark. The unexpected camaraderie in his words momentarily eased the weight on my shoulders, and I met his gaze, finding solace in his directness.

"I... I'll be fine," I replied, my voice steadier now. "Just one of those days, you know?"

Brian's expression softened, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The air between us crackled with a silent understanding, as if he knew the struggled that came with navigating the industry.

"May I ask what happened?" Brian inquired, his gaze fixed on me. The mere sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, leaving me at a loss for words. How was I supposed to hold a conversation with him when his presence alone had already rendered me speechless? I felt the weight of inadequacy pressing on me, threatening to unravel any semblance of coherence I had left.

It's nothing," I managed to squeak out, my eyes involuntarily darting downwards to take in the details of his attire illuminated by the strip lights in the hallway. "Just some... technical issues," I lied, my voice betraying the fabricated story. I couldn't let him know that I had been so foolish as to let his allure overpower my ability to do my job.

"Oh," he responded, briefly averting his gaze. "So, why were you being told off? That's what it seemed like, anyway." He shrugged, shifting his weight on his feet.

A blush crept across my face, and I found myself unable to meet his eyes, instead fixating on the flawlessly polished surface of his shoes. "I... I never wrote down the notes I needed to..." I mumbled, embarrassment washing over me once more. "By this time tomorrow, I'll probably be back in assistant mode, fetching coffee for everyone..." My voice trailed off, the reality of my prediction causing it to waver with distress. I felt the sting of tears welling up again, and I averted my gaze, desperately seeking solace in a different direction.

The internal self-deprecating thoughts echoes within me. How unprofessional, crying in front of Brian May. I couldn't help but feel the weight of my own perceived inadequacy crushing my spirit.

"Hey... I'm sure that won't happen," he smoothly assured me, his voice like velvet. In that moment, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, sending a thrilling shockwave through my entire being. Turning my head, I found myself face to face with Brian, his hand extending toward me, offering a pristine handkerchief. His warm, non-judgemental eyes conveyed a silent reassurance as he lightly waved the handkerchief, inviting me to accept it. With a shaky hand, I reached out and took it from him, mustering a feeble thank you. Although my mind should have been consumed with thoughts of potential demotion, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of using Brian May's handkerchief, to dry the tears over something he had inadvertently caused.

A rueful laugh escaped my lips. "No, it probably will happen," I nodded, my gaze fixed straight ahead. "It's a joke."

Brian let out a slight huff, as if in agreement, clicking his tongue and crossing his arms. He allowed a pause to hang in the air before speaking again. "Where are you staying? You can't be that old, I don't want you to be wandering about on your own."

"I am twenty-two, thank you very much," I chuckled. "I was supposed to be at the hotel down the street, but... after everything that's happened today, I think it's best if I just get on the Euro and head home," I replied with a somewhat wistful smile. "I don't really want to be around everyone right now. I can already imagine the judgemental looks they'll be throwing my way all night." I let out a sigh of resignation.

"Is it really that bad?" Brian raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"You have no idea..." I trailed off, my voice tinged with a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

"I don't know about that," he smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I toured the world with three other drama queens and had to spend nights in hotels with them," he said, giving me a pointed look.

I met his gaze with a shy yet genuine expression, a smile slowly spreading across my face. "You've got me there."

"What was it that you were supposed to take notes of, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired curiously.

"My job was to note down your answers in shorthand," I replied, a hint of disappointment still lingering in my expression as I recalled the embarrassment of my failure. "For the British papers," I shrugged.

He hummed, his gaze shifting as he pondered for a moment. I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope as his eyes seemed to briefly sweep over me, but I dismissed it as mere wishful thinking.

"Well..." he began, his voice dropping slightly lower, his eyes still locked with mine, a mischievous glimmer dancing in their depths. "I have an idea that might just solve your predicament."

My heart skipped a beat as I waited, captivated by his words and the magnetic pull of his presence. There was an unmistakable air of authority and confidence about him, and allure that made it impossible to resist.

"Why don't you come back to my hotel with me?" he suggested, his voice laced with an irresistible charm. "We can sit down, go through the interview together, and you can take your notes directly from me. That way, you won't have to worry about losing your job over a simple technical glitch."

His proposition hung in the air, tantalising and daring. The thought of being alone with him, in the intimate setting of his hotel room, sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine, despite the lingering knowledge of the committed relationship that was awaiting him back in London. It was an offer I couldn't refuse, despite the lingering doubts and fears that swirled in my mind.

His gaze held mine, an unspoken challenge conveyed through the subtle arch of his eyebrow. He exuded a domineering aura, a man who was accustomed to taking charge and getting what he desired, when he desired. And in that moment, I couldn't deny the thrilling temptation of surrendering to his authority, even if it meant stepping into the unprofessional, and the unknown.

I took a deep breath, my voice barely a whisper as I mustered the courage to respond. "Alright," I acquiesced, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'll come with you."

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, a silent victory that revealed his satisfaction at having ensnared me in his web. With a gesture of his hand, he beckoned me to follow, his subtle dominance asserting itself even in this small act.

The ride to his hotel was a tense affair, filled with a mix of anticipation and self-doubt. I settled into the plush leather seat of the car, my palms slightly clammy as I clasped my notebook tightly, its empty pages a stark reminder of my shortcomings.

Brian sat beside me, radiating an air of casual elegance as he reclined comfortably, his gaze occasionally flickering towards me. The silence hung heavily in the air, pregnant with unspoken desires and uncharted territories. It was as if the car itself had transformed into a cocoon, isolating us from the outside world and intensifying the connection between us.

He broke the silence, his voice low and velvety, filled with a hint of weariness. "You know, these press dates can become quite tiresome after a while," he confessed, his tone tinged with a touch of frustration. "Having to repeat the same anecdotes, answer the same questions—it can feel like a never-ending cycle."

I listened intently, my heart aching with a mixture of sympathy and guilt. His dedication to his craft was evident, yet here he was, taking the time to accommodate my incompetence, going above and beyond to salvage my position.

The weight of his sacrifice settled on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility for the burden he had shouldered on my behalf. A subtle pang of remorse washed over me, mingling with the lingering excitement that coursed through my veins.

"You didn't have to do this," I murmured softly, my voice tinged with gratitude and regret. "I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused."

He turned his gaze towards me, his eyes filled with understanding and something deeper, something that hinted at a hidden power dynamic between us. "Sometimes, we all need a little help," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of command. "And besides, it gives me an opportunity to spend some time with someone who appreciates the nuances of my work."

His words hung in the air, charged with unspoken implications. The car journey continued, each passing moment bringing us closer to his hotel, to an encounter that held the potential to blur the boundaries between professional obligations and personal desires.

As the city lights streaked past us in a mesmerising blur, a wave of apprehension washed over me. The weight of potential consequences bore down heavily, my mind conjuring images of disapproving glares and lectures from Candice. The thought of her disapproval and the potential damage to my professional reputation loomed like a dark cloud over this impulsive decision. But also... there was something in the back of mind that found that danger enticing.

I glanced at Brian, his profile illuminated by the passing lights, a captivating blend of charisma and enigma. The subtle shift of his features hinted at the complexities that lay beneath the surface. Yes, he was a renowned musician, an idol to many, but he was also a man with his own commitments and responsibilities.

My thoughts veered towards Candice's hypothetical reprimands, reminding me of the line I was treading. I wrestled with the inner turmoil, questioning my judgement, and yet, the allure of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the chance to glean insights from the man himself, called to me like a siren's song. The boundaries of reason blurred, and the forbidden fruit of possibility dangled temptingly before me.

I couldn't deny the excitement that coursed through my veins, even if we were simply going to talk about the interview. But something told me that he wouldn't have invited me to his hotel room if he only wanted to repeat what he'd told Isabelle. But reality, too, had its grip on my conscience. Brian's relationship status, thought not conventional in the traditional sense, added another layer of complexity.

The conflict within me intensified, the battle between reason and desire waged in my mind. And as the car whisked us closer to the hotel, I knew that a pivotal moment awaited me on the other side of those doors. A moment that would test the limits of my self-control and challenge the very fabric of my professional identity.

As the car pulled up in front of the grand hotel entrance, I couldn't help but be awestruck by its opulence. Towering pillars adorned with intricate carvings framed the entrance, while a cascading waterfall nearby added a touch of serenity to the bustling city surroundings. The lobby, with its marble floors and sparkling chandeliers, exuded an air of sophistication and exclusivity.

Brian stepped to get out of the car, his presence commanding attention as he glanced back at me, his eyes inviting me to join him on this adventure. I took a deep breath, my heart fluttering in anticipation, and followed suit.

The moment our eyes met, a magnetic connection sparked between us. A subtle exchange of glances spoke volumes, conveying unspoken desires and hidden depths. It was in those stolen moments that the tension between us grew, the unspoken understanding that something powerful was unfolding.

As we stepped into the lavish lobby, the plush furnishings and hushed atmosphere enveloped us. Brian's hand brushed lightly against my lower back, a simple gesture that sent shivers down my spine. The touch was fleeting yet deliberate, a tantalising hint of the electricity crackling in the air.

We made our way to the elevator, managing to be inconspicuous to the very few people who were actually in the lobby, the soft chime signalled its arrival. The enclosed space became our private sanctuary, the air thick with anticipation. The mirrored walls reflected our proximity, capturing the unspoken intensity that hung in the air.

In the confined space, Brian's scent enveloped me, a heady combination of musky cologne and a hint of adventure. Every moment felt deliberate, every breath carried a weight of anticipation. Our eyes locked in the reflection, mirroring a depth of connection that defied words.

As the elevator ascended, our proximity grew, the space between us closing with each passing floor. Brian's voice, laced with a husky undertone, broke the silence. "I must say, the view from my room is quite breathtaking," he remarked, his voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down my spine.

I leaned in slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can only imagine," I replied, the innuendo hanging in the air, adding a subtle layer of flirtation to our conversation.

A playful smile tugged at the corners of Brian's lips, his eyes holding that same mischievous glint as earlier. His hand casually brushed against mine as the elevator came to a halt, the touch electrifying and tantalisingly brief. The doors slid open, revealing a corridor bathed in soft, warm lighting.

We walked side by side, the click of our footsteps echoing in the hushed ambiance. The anticipation between us was palpable, a dance of desire and restraint. The subtle glances exchanged spoke volumes, carrying a shared secret that only we understood.

Arriving at his room, Brian fumbled for the key, his hand brushing against mine once again as he unlocked the door. The room's interior exuded luxury, with plush furnishings and a panoramic view of the city skyline. The atmosphere was charged with an undeniable energy, as if the room itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

Brian motioned for me to take a seat on the plush sofa, while he made his way to a side table adorned with crystal glasses and a sparkling bottle of water. His movements were controlled, each action carrying a subtle authority that commanded attention.

He poured a glass of water, the liquid cascading effortlessly into the glass. With an almost calculated grace, he handed it to me, his fingers grazing mine ever so slightly. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and I found myself captivated by his commanding presence.

Settling into a nearby armchair, Brian's gaze fixed upon me with an intensity that made my heart race. He picked up my notebook, his fingers tracing the empty pages as he glanced back at me, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and dominance.

"Let's go over the interview, shall we?" he suggested, his voice laced with authority. I nodded, my voice momentarily escaping me in the face of his dominant aura.

As we delved into the conversation, his proximity grew, our arms occasionally brushing against each other's as we gestured or reached for the notebook. Each touch was a subtle reminder of his control and my vulnerability.

His gaze never wavered, his eyes piercing into mine with a sense of ownership. He dissected each question and response with precision, his tone firm yet enticing. The atmosphere crackled with an undeniable tension.

Brian's hand occasionally found its way to the small of my back, a subtle gesture of possession that left me breathless and wanting more.

As we concluded our review of the interview, an unspoken understanding passed between us. Brian's gaze held a hint of satisfaction, as if pleased with my progress under his guidance. I couldn't deny the thrilling allure of his dominance, the way he effortlessly took charge and led me down a path of unexplored sensuality, purely in the way he spoke and answered the questions.

Once we'd finished, a sense of relief washed over me. I placed my pencil down on the coffee table, grateful for the notes I now had to present to Candice. But little did I know that the night was far from over, and the dynamics between Brian and I were about to take a new turn.

As I sat back on the sofa, taking a sip of water from the glass Brian had graciously given me, he caught me off guard with an unexpected question.

"Why don't you ask me about my relationship?" His words hung in the air, laden with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

I nearly choked on my water, my eyes widening in surprise. His question was so sudden and unexpected that I struggled to find the right response. "W... What?" I stammered, my voice betraying my confusion as I carefully set the glass back on the coffee table.

"Everyone else does. Why don't you?" Brian rose from his seat, striding over to the armchair across the room. He reached up, gracefully removing his navy-blue blazer and draping it over the back of the chair. His movements were confident and self-assured, his hands casually returning to his pockets.

I watched him in awe, captivated by his every gesture. The way he carried himself, the slight tilt of his head, the way he rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms—each detail seemed to heighten his allure. His hair, with its enchanting allure, seemed to beckon to me, and I couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull toward him, yet again.

Feeling a heat rise in my cheeks, I cleared my throat, crossing my legs in an attempt to steady myself. I hoped he wouldn't notice the effect he had on me, even though the atmosphere had been charged with flirtation throughout our time together thus far. Deep down, a small voice whispered that it was all in my head, that Brian was simply being accommodating.

"I, uh..." I began, my voice slightly shaky as I took another sip of water, hoping to steady my nerves. "Well, I don't see why I should ask about your relationship," I replied, attempting to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the perplexed undertone in my voice. "It's really nobody's business, right?" I added, my brows furrowing.

Brian's lips curled into a partly playful, partly impressed, smile, and he moved closer to me, now stood right in front of me, like he was when we first met eyes earlier that afternoon. His eyes locked steadily onto mine. The air once again crackled with anticipation and unspoken feelings.

"That's true," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But sometimes, it's intriguing to delve into the depths of someone's personal life, don't you think? To understand their desires, their secrets..."

His words hung in the air, charged with an undeniable seductive energy.

"So, I'm going to ask you, Y/N..." Brian's voice drew me in, his words laced with a magnetic allure. He moved away slightly, only to settle beside me on the sofa, his body angled toward mine. I couldn't help but feel a surge of prospect as I realised that he had remembered my name, speaking it for the first time since he'd met me.

"What about you?" his voice was a seductive whisper, gently coaxing me to reveal the depths of my own desires. My breath caught in my throat, the intensity of his presence almost overwhelming.

"What about me?" I managed to whisper, my voice betraying a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

Brian let out a low chuckle, a sound that sent a rush of heat coursing through me. As he shifted his position, resting his arm casually across the back of the sofa, he mirrored the way he had sat with Isabelle during the interview. But this time, his proximity to me was closer, his energy more focused. It was as if the space between us had become charged with an unspoken understanding.

His hand reached out, deliberately smoothing over the slight ruffle in my black skirt. The touch was gentle, but its intention was unmistakable. I couldn't help but feel the electricity that surged through me as his fingertips lingered on my knee. A wave of desire washed over me, causing my thighs to clench and a quiver to run through the depths of my being. I briefly closed my eyes, my senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating tension that enveloped us.

But my eyes snapped back open, meeting his gaze when he finally responded. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation, and I hung onto his every word, eager to unravel the depths of this enigmatic man before me.

Brian's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he locked his gaze with mine. He had seen through my feeble attempt to divert the conversation and now he was toying with me, like a skilled predator playing with its prey.

"You know, Y/N," he began, his voice dripping with subtle amusement, "I can't help but wonder if those technical difficulties were just an excuse. Perhaps there's something else that prevented you from taking those notes." His words hung in the air, laden with implication.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and fascination. How did he manage to see through my façade so effortlessly? It was as if he possessed an uncanny ability to unravel the truths hidden beneath the layers of my carefully constructed lies.

"You're quite perceptive," I admitted, my voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "There might have been... other distractions that prevented me from fulfilling my duties."

Brian's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. His hand, still resting on my knee, exerted a subtle pressure, a silent reminder of the power dynamics at play. It was a gesture that sent a jolt coursing through me, making me acutely aware of his commanding presence.

"Well, Y/N," he murmured, his voice lowering again, "if you were indeed distracted, perhaps its time we address that distraction head-on."

I swallowed hard, my heart once again pounding in my chest. It was as if the world around us had faded into the background, leaving the two of us locked in this exhilarating dance of desire and power. I was drawn to him, unable to resist him, and he knew it.

"What do you suggest, Brian?" I exhaled, my voice a velvet whisper that teased the air. I teetered on the precipice of desire, my every fibre ready to succumb to his captivating dominance, yearning to explore the uncharted depths of passion that enticed us both.

His piercing gaze intensified, a searing ember of authority glowing in his eyes, beckoning me further into his world. "Y/N," he purred, his voice a sultry blend of command and invitation, "Perhaps it's time we plunge into the depths of these tantalising distractions. It would be such a waste to let them slip through our fingers, wouldn't it?"

He meticulously grazed his teeth against his plump lower lip, his predatory eyes descending upon my body with a swift hunger. "Are you seeing somebody?"

I took a deep breath, my eyes locked on his hand resting on my knee. It felt like an anchor, grounding me in the midst of the swirling emotions that Brian had effortlessly stirred within me. I shook my head slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. "No..."

His grip on my knee tightened ever so slightly, a subtle display of dominance that that sent a jolt of excitement coursing through me. Tense, the weight of his question hanging in the silence. Brian's gaze continued to bore into mine, his eyes filled with an intensity that made it hard to look away.

"But I'm assuming you have," he prodded gently, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and desire. As he spoke, his hand shifted, his fingers tracing a path of electrifying warmth up my thigh. Every inch of my skin burned under his touch, igniting a fire deep within me that I struggled to contain.

My thoughts became hazy, a cocktail of longing and forbidden fantasies swirling in my mind. The allure of Brian's commanding presence was overwhelming, captivating me in ways I couldn't resist. Rationality wavered as I found myself yearning for his dominance, for him to physically take control and guide me into uncharted territory.

I mustered the strength to respond, my voice trembling with a potent mixture of apprehension and desire. "Yes," I finally confessed, my admission punctuated by a shuddering breath. The confession hung in the air, a tangible invitation for Brian to delve deeper into the depths of my past and desires.

"Of course, that was a silly question for me to ask you." Brian's laughter, a melodic symphony, echoed in the room, mingling with the charged atmosphere that enveloped us. That mischievous glint in his eyes danced with a hint of desire as he playfully taunted me.

"A pretty thing like you... No way a man hasn't approached you. No way you can't have experienced such things that come with it." His words, dripping with seductive confidence, sent shivers down my spine, awakening a dormant fire within me. As he continued, his hand embarked on a daring expedition, traversing the landscape of my thigh with deliberate intent. The tantalising proximity of his touch ignited a flame of exhilaration, intensifying his charm.

"Is this okay?"

Caught in the magnetic field of his presence, my breath hitched. His audacity, his audacious exploration of my boundaries, both thrilled and unnerved me. His question, whispered like a forbidden secret, hung in the air, enticing and provocative.

My gaze met his, locked in a fierce battle of desire and restraint. His head tilted ever so slightly, offering a glimpse into a world of untamed passion that lay just beyond my peripheral vision. It was a challenge, a temptation I couldn't ignore.

"Yes..." I gasped, a delicate confession of my yearning. The room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of our shared anticipation, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken desire that had been crackling above us since he asked me if I had a name back at the studio.

With every fibre of my being attuned to his touch, I met his piercing gaze, a hunger ignited within myself. The anticipation hung thick and heady in the air, as my body responded to his unspoken desires, yearning for the raw intensity that lay just beyond our fingertips.

His hand, once resting on the back of the sofa, now ventured into the depths of my hair, fingers dancing through the strands with an almost possessive tenderness. My breath hitched, a mixture of excitement and anxiety coursing through me veins.

His voice, a velvety caress, laced with his characteristic authority, penetrated the atmosphere. "You said you were twenty-two?" he asked, his touch a sensory symphony that sent shivers cascading down my spine to the fullest. I nodded, my lips instinctively finding refuge between my teeth, an unconscious response to the mounting tension that enveloped us.

"So young and full of life," he mused, his words a tantalising invitation into a world of hidden desires. The weight of his statement settled upon us, passing through us like a current. "You do understand what I'm trying to do right now, don't you?"

I knew exactly what he was attempting to do, and the thought alone could have caused me to climax on his sofa right then and there.

A barely contained breath escaped my lips, as I chuckled and shifted my body to face him fully as an answer. The crossing of my legs changed, creating an open pathway to explore our proximity. As if attuned to my movements, Brian's hand left my leg momentarily, only to reclaim its rightful place on my thigh, a possessive declaration of his intent.

Curiosity burned within me, emboldened by his unabashed dominance. "Do you do this a lot?" I ventured, resting my arm on the back of the sofa, a subtle invitation for him to delve deeper into the intricacies of his world. The revelation of his true intentions liberated me, allowing me to respond in kind, the allure of the forbidden dance consuming my thoughts.

Brian seemed a little taken aback by my question, but his initial surprise quickly dissolved into a low chuckle, a hint of intrigue glinting in his eyes. His gaze momentarily shifted to his hand, which had settled on the back of my thigh, his thumb tracing tantalising circles against the soft skin, exerting a gentle tug.

"I wouldn't say a lot... but every now and then, I stumble upon someone I really, really like," he confessed, his voice descending to a husky whisper as his eyes flickered up to meet mine. "Someone I simply can't resist," he added, his words resonating with an intensity that left no room for doubt. "And you, my dear, are the most captivating creature I've encountered thus far."

His compliments reverberated within me, causing me to sink deeper into the plush embrace of the sofa, my face suffused with a bright crimson blush. "Am I?" A small smirk danced on my lips as I raised an eyebrow, my inquiry carrying a weight that went beyond the surface. Unintentionally, I had invoked the presence of Anita, his partner, and now the unspoken tension lingered between us.

His eyes narrowed, the spark of recognition igniting in his gaze. But instead of letting the unspoken words bloom, he chuckled once again, his grip on my thigh tightening with a tantalising force. In one swift motion, he pulled me forward, until I found myself ensconced upon his lap. The unexpectedness of the action electrified the air, sending waves of desire coursing through me, my core pulsating in eager anticipation, yearning for the layers of clothing to vanish, to feel the raw heat of his skin against mine.

"You're asking too many questions, darling," he mused, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and desire. His hands boldly found their place at my hips, sliding beneath the thin fabric of my blazer, their touch sending a jolt of electricity through my entire being.

A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I playfully retorted, "I thought that was my job," my lashes fluttering in a seductive display. Yet, my attempt at teasing seemed to have an unexpected effect on Brian. His hands clamped around me with a vice-like grip, the sensation of his fingers pressing through the fabric of my skirt sending a thrilling jolt through my body.

A low, almost predatory growl rumbled from his throat as he spoke, his voice a dangerous blend of desire and authority. "You're a bit mouthy, aren't you?" he murmured, his words laced with a hint of reprimand. "Just as I thought you were so innocent... sitting there on that stool with this little skirt almost exposing you to the whole world, not knowing a thing about it..." With each word, he pulled me down onto him, the force of his action making it clear that he was taking control. "Thinking I didn't notice that you were staring at me the whole time," he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "And here you are, now sat on my lap, all shaky and needy."

His gaze roamed over my face, observing my every reaction to his sudden shift in demeanour. This was precisely the dynamic I had been seeking, a captivating dance between dominance and submission. The air hummed with an electrifying tension as I found myself entranced by him, surrendering to the intoxicating mix of vulnerability and desire that pulsed between us.

Brian's subtle manoeuvre in his lap caused me to instinctively cling onto his shoulders, seeking stability in the midst of escalating desire. His self-satisfied smirk revealed his pleasure at my reaction, fuelling the fire that raged between us. "There's a few things I want to go through with you before we go any further, sweetheart," he hummed, his hand firmly grasping the back of my neck, drawing me tantalisingly close to his face, our lips hovering inches apart. The anticipation was palpable, my breath hitching in anticipating of his next words. "Have you every been with anyone older before?"

I exhaled softly against his mouth, my eyes half-lidded with a mixture of nervousness and longing. I shook my head slightly, my hands finding solace in the firmness of his shoulders. "Maybe, like, a thirty-year-old, but..." My voice trailed off, the unspoken admission hanging in the air.

"Nobody as old as I am?" he finished my sentence with a knowing smile, fully aware of my unspoken answer. I nodded, my teeth earnestly biting down on my bottom lip, a nervous habit that betrayed my inner turmoil.

"Well, Y/N, I should warn you," he began, his hips abruptly surging against mine, stealing the air from my lungs. The intensity of his touch sent chills coursing through my body. "As an almost-fifty-one-year-old who knows what he's doing, I can guarantee that you will cum at least five times tonight," he purred, his fingers encircling my throat in a gentle yet possessive grip. "And with any luck, you'll struggle to walk out of that door in the morning."

With a swift, decisive movement, our lips finally connected, a torrent of pent-up desire exploding within me. The metaphorical fireworks ignited, their radiant bursts cascading through my body, kindling a symphony of tingles and shivers that coursed from my stomach to my throbbing core. The long-awaited contact between our lips unleashed a tempestuous passion that left me yearning for more.

"Stand up for Daddy," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of desire and possessiveness. The unexpected pet name he bestowed upon himself sent a surge of excitement through me. It was a name I had imagined slipping from my own lips, and now that he had uttered it, I felt an intoxicating thrill. His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine for a brief moment. "You don't mind that, do you?" he asked, his grip on my throat loosening. Even in the midst of our escalating passion, Brian remained considerate and a gentleman.

"I'm more than okay with it," I replied, my voice laced with eagerness. I nodded, a spark of anticipation igniting within me. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he bit down on the lower one, an expression that hinted at the wild desires swirling in his mind.

"I knew you would be perfect for me, you naughty little thing..." he growled, his words laced with a primal hunger. He pressed his lips against mine one last time, a fierce and demanding kiss that left me breathless. With deliberate yet cautious movements, he guided me to stand in front of him. His legs were spread out, and his hands firmly settled on my waist, grounding me in his commanding presence.

"Let's get those clothes off of you," he breathed, his voice husky with anticipation. Sitting up, he leaned back slightly, creating a space for me to step between his legs. His hands roamed my waist, teasing an exploring, as he revelled in the sight before him. "I bet you look mesmerising, you sweet thing," he murmured, his words stirring a fire deep within me.

With Brian's guidance, I slipped off my blazer, letting it fall carelessly beside him on the sofa. My attire consisted of a form-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt, neatly tucked into a sleek black skirt. The fabric of the shirt clung to my body, accentuating every curve and contour, and I could sense Brian's gaze lingering on the enticing view before him.

"Keep going, love," he smoothly instructed, his voice laced with command. With his arm casually draped over the back of the sofa and his other hand resting suggestively over his own clothed arousal, he watched intently as I continued to undress, gradually revealing more of myself.

I slowly unbuttoned the top few buttons of my shirt, exposing a teasing glimpse of the soft skin nestled between my breasts. The fabric parted, revealing a tantalising V-neckline that halted just at the beginning of my cleavage, leaving much to the imagination. Brian's eyes darkened with desire, his focus fixed on the seductive reveal.

Encouraged by his unwavering gaze, I continued to undress, peeling the shirt from my body with deliberate grace. Each movement involved in unzipping and shimmying down my skirt was accompanied a subtle sway of my hips, a deliberate invitation to indulge in the forbidden desires that simmered between us. The shirt slipped off of my shoulders, pooling at my feet, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my underwear, vulnerable and exposed.

Brian's hungry eyes drank in the sight, savouring the contours of my body outlined by the delicate lingerie that adorned it. His breath hitched, and a primal hunger flashed across his face.

"My, my, my..." he mused, his voice a low, throaty rumble. Leaning forward, he focused his gaze on my chest, his eyes lingering on the delicate white lace bra that adorned me, before trailing down to the matching pair of underwear that concealed the very essence of my being—a part of me yearning to be devoured by Brian's primal desire.

A subtle flush of embarrassment tinged my skin, blending with a tingling sense of prospect as I stood before Brian, acutely aware of his gaze that stripped me with its intensity. It was a an undeniable turn-on, this vulnerable exposure, yet I couldn't help but wonder if he desired something more from me.

"Turn around," he commanded, his tone blunt, his finger tracing an authoritative arc in the air. Without hesitation, I obeyed, pivoting silently on my heel until my back was completely exposed to him. And then, in a split second, a fierce sting erupted across my backside, the resounding slap from Brian's hand reverberating through the room. A gasp escaped my lips, mingling with a mixture of surprise, excitement, and a hint of pain.

Brian rose from the sofa, his presence expanding behind me like a towering shadow, and with a firm grip on the band of my underwear, he yanked me back against him. I could feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing forcefully against my backside, the bulge in his trousers growing with each passing moment. Lowering his head, he released a low growl that sent a shiver up through my core, while his other hand firmly grasped my head, tilting it to the side, exposing my vulnerability.

"Good little girls answer their Daddy," he whispered, his voice a seductive blend of dominance of desire. His hand slid around my lower stomach, applying pressure that coerced me to press my backside more firmly into him. "Don't they?"

A gasp hitched in my throat, a mixture of shock and exhilaration coursing through my veins as Brian spoke to me in such a degrading yet intoxicating manner. "Y-yes..."

"Yes, what?" he demanded, his fingers intertwining with my hair, his fists closing with a possessive grip as his lips brushed against the sensitive shell of my ear. "If you want even the slightest taste of the sweet release you crave, you must address me accordingly, little one."

A quivering smile danced upon my lips, an eagerness to comply swirling within me. "Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl," he praised, his words hot against my ear, his breath fanning the flames of my desire. Resting the side of his head against mine, he directed his gaze downward, his hand venturing lower, ghosting over my core, teasing and tantalising. "I can't wait to feel your cunt wrap around my cock... I bet you're so tight and warm for me," he murmured, a promise that elicited a suppressed whimper from my lips. "Oh, the thought of that excites you, doesn't it?" he tested, his voice wicked.

"Yes, Daddy," I replied, my voice trembling with a potent mixture of obedience and unquenchable longing.

He chuckled, a sound tinged with satisfaction and amusement at my swift adaptation to our dynamic. "That's a good girl," he breathed against the sensitive skin of my neck, his lips claiming me with a fervent, sloppy kiss before abruptly releasing me, leaving me yearning for his touch and craving more.

"Stand back a little," Brian's voice commanded, an authoritative tone that brooked no resistance. I complied, taking a step back, my anticipation mounting as he took control. With a swift movement, he spun me around, his hands asserting their presence on my body, yet withholding any intimate touch. The air crackled with an electric charge, heavy with unspoken desire.

"No touching until I say," he declared, his voice laced with a mixture of authority and anticipation. Stepping back himself, he lowered his hands to his belt, his gaze never wavering from mine as he skilfully unbuckled and unzipped his trousers. The sound of the metal against metal reverberated in the room, heightening the intensity of the moment. His trousers cascaded down to his knees, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his bare flesh, while his shirt billowed around him, hinting at the hidden secrets it concealed. He stepped out of the confines of his restrictive clothes, gracefully kicking them aside, leaving him standing before me in only his partially unbuttoned shirt.

My eyes couldn't help but be drawn downward, magnetically pulled to the sight of his own underwear. His bulge, sizable and still growing, strained against the fabric, a visual testament to the desire that consumed him. Heat flushed through my veins, a mixture of nervous anticipation and a primal hunger to taste him.

"I'm assuming you've given somebody a blowjob before, yes?" Brian's voice cut through the charged silence, his head tilted in a patronizing yet knowing manner. His words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation entwined. He awaited my response, his eyes burning with a mixture of curiosity and desire, never once breaking our unyielding eye contact.

A tremor of excitement coursed through me, mingling with a tinge of apprehension. I nodded, my voice momentarily stolen by the intensity of the moment, my desire to please him amplifying with each passing second.

"Yes, Daddy," I finally managed to respond, the breathless admission hanging in the air, a testament to the intimate encounters of my past.

A predatory smile tugged at the corners of Brian's lips, a gleam of satisfaction illuminating his gaze. The flicker of dominance danced in his eyes as he took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between us. The bulge in his underwear pressed against my senses, a physical manifestation of his hunger and anticipation.

"Good," he murmured, his voice husky and thick with desire.

I could feel the excitement bubbling up inside me, and I couldn't help but shuffle side to side to deal with the intense desire to get my hands or my mouth on Brian's arousal, especially when he moved to sit back against the sofa.

"Please can I taste you, Daddy?" I whispered, glancing up at him with an innocent expression.

He hummed, his hand coming down to move some of my hair out of my face. "So good, asking for permission," he praised, lowering his head and biting a little into my shoulder before turning his head and growling back into my ear. "I want you on all-fours, looking up at me with those pretty fucking eyes."

"Yes, Daddy," I moaned just at his response, but was quick to do as I was told, moving back to give myself space to do as I was told, whilst he got to work in removing his underwear from his body. I arched my back, showing off the round of my curves for him like I noticed he enjoyed so much. He took his length his hand, giving it a few strokes before shuffling forward a few inches. I couldn't stop staring at its appearance, pulsating, red, veiny, and everything I dreamed it would be. I took the hint and propped myself up on one hand, using the other to move my hair from my face, before finally leaning forward and licking from the base, right up the pronounced vain on his shaft, and up to the tip. I teased him, glancing up at him as I slowly flicked my tongue over the redness. I could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum already, which only encouraged me to keep going. But apparently, the teasing wasn't enough.

"Oh, you don't want to tease Daddy, little one," he drawled, one hand coming behind my head to tangle his fingers once again in my hair. "I have to feel your mouth all over my cock, alright?" His natural dominance was toned back, and I could tell that he was testing where my comfort level was. But I was too far in my comfort zone here. So, I pushed him.

With a mischievous smirk, I only wrapped my lips around his tip, sucking ever so slightly.

"You really want to play games?" He asked with an amused tinge to his voice. He chuckled, right before he pushed my head further down, causing his cock to slide into my mouth and to my throat as far as it could go, a gag automatically sounding from my throat. It made my core throb yet again.

His grip loosened briefly, in order to breathily ask me if this was okay. I hummed around his cock in confirmation, my eyes peering up at him the best they could. Just like that, he knew where my head was at, and his grip resumed, and his hips drew back, just to thrust back again. He showed me – demonstrated – the pace he wanted, and I was obliged to deliver.

Once I had my head bobbing along his shaft how he wanted, my hand wrapped firmly around the base, my gag reflex had been temporarily diverted, but not completely eradicated. Brian, however, smacked my hand away from him, making me keep my hands down on my knees and allow him to force himself however far into my mouth as he wanted.

As my mouth encased the warm length, my own arousal picked back up, feeling myself clenching around nothing and wishing his cock was balls deep inside me. But that only encouraged me to do a better job on him. I found myself moaning as his taste, the way he grunted and breathed above me. I'd never heard anyone sound so fucking beautiful.

"That's it, baby... Fuck," he groaned, his jaw clenched in sheer ecstasy. "Let me see that pretty face, Y/N." His request fuelled my desperation and desire to please him. With a whimper, I adjusted my position slightly, ensuring that my movements on his cock remained relentless, my lips tightly sealed around him.

As I complied with his command, my eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, aware of the redness that had undoubtedly consumed them. My lips, swollen from our passionate kisses and the way they enveloped him, added to the visual proof of our intense connection. Tears welled up at the corners of my eyes, a mix of pleasure, vulnerability, and overwhelming sensations.

However, what truly pushed me to the brink of desperation was the sight of him. He looked like a god, an ethereal being of pleasure and dominance. His hair fell forward, framing his face as he gazed down at me. His mouth was slightly open, allowing soft moans and growls to escape. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, a testament to his state of euphoria. His heavy-lidded eyes exuded a mix of desire and satisfaction, capturing me in a moment of profound intensity.

"Such a beautiful little slut, aren't you?" He sighed, running his hand back through my hair to bunch it up at the back, helping me through my pace. "Yeah... such a good girl for Daddy..." He mumbled, mostly to himself as his eyes looked back at my backside. His free hand reached forward and felt over my curves until he reached his destination, grabbing a handful before lifting and landing his palm against the skin with a forceful smack. It sent me moaning and whimpering yet again, the small sting sending shocks to my arousal and shivers to my skin. He did it again, this time a lot harder. He must have been testing the waters beforehand. I flinched this time, my back arching more.

I whined, the hand that was propping me up gripping into the bedsheets as I tried my very best not to rub my thighs together for friction I so desperately needed. Brian took notice and let go of my hair, pulling his cock from my mouth. A string of saliva still connected us, and my face was completely fucked out.

"Look at you, darling," he purred, taking a hold of my face with one hand and pressing my cheeks together. "You enjoyed having my cock in your mouth, didn't you?" With a deliberate slowness, he traced his thumb over my swollen lower lip, savouring the aftermath of our intimate encounter. It was a silent question, a rhetorical inquiry that required no verbal response. Instead, I responded with a breathless nod, my eyes locked on his, conveying my pleasure and desire.

But in an unexpected twist, his hand swiftly left my lip, and a sharp, stinging sensation erupted on the side of my face. A decent slap, delivered with purpose, but cautiously landed, not giving his all in the event that I wasn't into that kind of treatment. Of course, I would let this man do anything to me.

The impact took me by surprise, integrating with the haze of pleasure. Yet, as quickly as the pain registered, he seized me once again, his grip possessive and firm. His actions were a reminder of his control, a reminder that I existed in this moment solely for his pleasure. It was a moment of sharp contrast, the pain mingling with desire, further fuelling the intensity of our connection. "What did I say about answering Daddy?"

"Yes, Daddy—sorry, Daddy," I breathed out, looking up at him with watery eyes. "Can I have more, Daddy?" I batted my eyelashes.

Releasing his hold on me, he sat forward, his shirt clinging to his body, evidence of the sweat that adorned his skin. With a purposeful motion, he discarded the garment, revealing the glistening contours of his middle-aged physique. Rising to his feet, he positioned himself near the edge of the sofa, his foot resting upon the plush surface for support. His hand encircled his throbbing cock, exerting a firm grip as he glided his fist along its length, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure.

"What are you waiting for? Show me what you're capable of," he commanded, his voice laced with a potent mixture of authority and desire. His invitation beckoned me forward, and without hesitation, I eagerly reattached my mouth to him, my lips enveloping his engorged length. Balancing myself on the edge of the sofa so I could reach him, I rested my hands on the sofa, surrendering to the primal rhythm that coursed through us.

Brian's hand gathered a handful of my hair at the back of my head, ensuring a firm grip as he began to thrust into my mouth with abandon. He paid no mind to the reddened hue of my eyes, nor the cascades of saliva that spilled from my lips, consumed by the raw pleasure that surged between us. Each forceful thrust of his hips sent a jolt of ecstasy through my being, a delicious combination of pleasure and submission. The intensity of our connection intensified, the boundaries of control blurring as we surrendered to our most primal desires.

"Do a good job, and then Daddy will make you cum all over his tongue, okay?" He moaned down at me, making me nod, and whine a muffled "Yes, Daddy," with his cock still shoved in my mouth.

I maintained my position, allowing him to forcefully thrust into my throat, my head held firmly in place by his unyielding grip. I looked up at him through teary eyes, my face glistening with a mixture of saliva and tears, a testament to the depths of pleasure and submission I was experiencing.

The sound of his hissing voice filled the air, blending with his deep groans of satisfaction. "Yes... So perfect," he gasped, overcome by the intense sensation of my mouth enveloping him. The mixture of pain and pleasure, dominance and surrender, fuelled the fiery connection between us, heightening the raw, primal energy of the moment.

I felt his thigh shake beside my head, and he pulled my head all the way down onto his cock, my nose pushing into the mass of pubic hair at the base of his arousal. I let out a heavy breath, closing my eyes and relaxing my throat to allow him to slide down it with ease. Then, without warning, he yanked me back, his cock completely slipping out of my mouth. It was glistening with a mixture of my thickening saliva and his pre-cum, matching with the way my lips sparkled with the same kind of adventure.

Gasping for breath, I found myself being pulled up to my feet by the firm grip of Brian's hand, entwined in my hair. The forceful manner in which he yanked me upright only heightened the intensity of our encounter. Our lips crashed together once again, igniting a wild and insatiable passion that consumed us both.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was a raw display of desire, marked by urgency and need. Our mouths melded together in a feverish dance, tongues clashing and intertwining in a desperate battle for dominance. It was as if Brian couldn't get enough of the taste, eagerly seeking to reclaim a trace of himself on my lips.

Every swipe and flick of his tongue against mine sent electric jolts of pleasure surging through my body. The hunger in his kiss matched the fiery desire coursing through my veins, building an intoxicating tension that threatened to consume us both. Our lips and tongues moved in a frenzy, an unspoken declaration of our insatiable lust. It made me wonder what his lips and his tongue would feel like on my aching core.

With one hand wrapped around my throat, he pulled me back enough to speak to me. "Get on the bed for me, love," he demanded softly, letting me go and pushing me slightly in the direction of the bed.

"Yes, Daddy," I obeyed, swiftly turning and heading for the large king-sized bed. I lowered myself onto the sleek silk, my heart pounding in raging lust as my core continued to flutter and tighten at the pure thought of being devoured by Brian. "You sucked Daddy's cock so well, little one," he praised with a patronising flare, as he slowly made his way towards me, closing in on me like I was some sort of prey for the taking. He stopped right in front of me, leaning down so both of his hands were placed flat on the surface of the bed, and his face was mere inches from mine. "Do you think you deserve to have my face buried between your legs, baby?"

His question stirred a whirlwind of sensations within me, causing my entire body to tremble with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. My thighs involuntarily clenched, and a breathy sigh escaped my quivering lips. Brian had a way of rendering me speechless, making it nearly impossible to form coherent words as I struggled to catch my breath against his intoxicating lips.

"So precious. I get you this hot, you can't even speak," he hummed, amusement dancing in his voice. One hand found its way back to my throat, asserting his dominance over me. His thumb grazed over my lower lip, teasing it down and allowing it to spring back against my teeth. Leaning closer, he guided me down onto my back, his presence looming over me like a commanding giant.

Once he fully hovered above me, his aura radiating power and desire, he whispered with a menacing grunt that sent shivers down my spine. His words held a primal hunger, a promise of untamed pleasure.

"Would you like Daddy to taste your sweet pussy, darling?"

The question enough made me writhe a little under him, and I whined a small "Yes please, Daddy" up at him, making him chuckle and shoot me that sexy smile of his.

"Stay there," he whispered, his voice laced with a commanding edge. With a swift motion, he pulled himself up to his feet, his strong hands gripping my ankles firmly. I felt myself being effortlessly dragged to the edge of the bed, my legs hanging over the edge. The anticipation prickled across my skin as he took a moment to appraise me, his eyes roaming hungrily over my half-naked form.

His fingers hooked into the band of my underwear, and in one fluid motion, he tugged them down my legs, leaving me completely bare from the waist down. The sudden exposure left me feeling vulnerable, every inch of my body open and ready for his intimate exploration. I could feel the cool air caress my heated skin, heightening my senses and intensifying the anticipation that pulsed through me.

His touch ignited a fiery sensation across my skin as he parted my legs, positioning my knees closer to my chest. The intimate vulnerability of my exposed core made my heart race. The throbbing of my clit intensified, yearning for the exquisite sensation of his lips wrapping around it, ready to be devoured by the force of his desire.

His fingertips trailed a tantalising path down the back of my thighs, leaving a trail of electric sparks in their wake. The pressure he applied against my legs urged me to instinctively open up for him, surrendering myself to his skilled ministrations.

As he lowered himself to his knees, his breath caressed my most sensitive flesh, sending shivers cascading through my body. The warmth of his breath teased and enveloped me, igniting a primal desire that caused my breathing to quicken in sync with the mounting tension.

The realisation struck me with a jolt. Few men I had been with had truly taken the time to explore the depths of my pleasure. But Brian was different. He possessed an insatiable hunger to please me, to delve into the realm of my desires. To show me he was capable, at his age, of making a young thing writhe and arch at his talents. This was not a mere obligation but a ravenous craving that consumed him, a thirst that he longed to quench with my pleasure as his ultimate reward.

I felt a surge of gratitude for Brian's genuine desire to please me. It was a rarity, a precious gift that I would savour with every fibre of my being. The weight of his intention settled over me, heightening the anticipation that coursed through my veins.

His hands moved with purpose, exploring the contours of my thighs, tracing delicate patterned that elicited soft moans from my lips. I felt my body responding to his touch, arching instinctively, seeking more of his caress. The intensity of his focus ignited a fire within me, fuelling the craving for his skilled tongue to explore me.

With a deliberate yet tender touch, Brian's fingers found their way to my most intimate core. His fingertips danced along the wetness that coated my folds, teasing and tantalising, as if he were an artist painting strokes of desire upon my canvas. Each stroke of his touch sent ripples of pleasure cascading through me, building the intensity with each passing second.

The room was filled with an intoxicating mix of our shared breaths and the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears. Every nerve in my body stood at attention, poised for the exquisite release that awaited me. I closed my eyes, surrendering myself to the sensations that enveloped me, allowing the anticipation to swell and consume me.

And then, with a flicker of his tongue, Brian made contact with my swollen, throbbing clit. The jolt of pleasure shot through me, causing my back to arch and a gasp of pleasure to escape my lips. His skilful tongue explored every crevice, every delicate fold, igniting an inferno of sensation that spiralled within me.

I lost myself in the maelstrom of pleasure, my fingers grasping the sheets beneath me as waves of ecstasy crashed over my body. Brian's rhythmic movements, a symphony of pleasure orchestrated by his expert tongue, bringing me closer to the brink of oblivion.

Brian, ever the master of control, sensed the depths of my pleasure and revelled in his power over me. He intensified his assault on my sensitive nub, his tongue swirling and flicking with unrelenting precision. Each stroke, each caress, pushed me closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As the intensity mounted, I could feel the coil of desire winding tighter within me. My body trembled with anticipation, my moans growing louder and louder, more and more urgent. Brian's grip on my thighs tightened, a silent command to surrender completely to the overwhelming pleasure he was orchestrating.

I was teetering on the precipice, my entire being consumed by the need for release. But just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, Brian pulled back, denying me that final plunge into ecstasy. The absence of his touch left me achingly empty, my body pulsating with unfulfilled desire.

With a predatory glint in his eyes, Brian rose to his full height, his dominance radiating from every pore. He seized my wrists and effortlessly pinned them above my head, his strength asserting his control over my quivering body. I was at his mercy, my desire reaching a fever pitch as I yearned for his next move.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a low, commanding growl. "You think I'm going to let you cum that easily, my little plaything?" he whispered, the words igniting a fierce ache deep within me. "No, my sweet, I'm going to make you beg for it."

His words sent a shockwave down my spine, my breath catching in my throat. I wanted to plead, to beg for release, but he silenced me with his dominance. He relished in the power he held over me, revelling in my desperation.

With a deliberate slowness that bordered on torturous, Brian trailed his fingers along the length of my body, tantalisingly close to where I craved his touch the most. Every nerve in my body screamed for his contact, my hips instinctively arching toward him, begging for his release.

But Brian was in control, and he dictated the pace. He continued his maddening exploration, his touch teasingly light as he traced circles on my inner thighs. The anticipation grew unbearable, my need for release becoming an all-consuming ache that threatened to overwhelm me.

Finally, just when I thought I could take no more, Brian yielded to my pleading body. His fingers found their way to my throbbing core, delving deep into my wetness. The penetration was swift and intense, a primal connection that shattered any remnants of self-control.

He moved with an effortless rhythm, his fingers expertly stroking every sensitive spot within me. "How tight you are, sweetheart... definitely need to warm you up a bit before I stretch you out," he moaned down at me, the pleasure coursing through my veins and my body convulsing beneath his touch. I writhed against his unyielding grip, lost in the sea of sensations that consumed me.

"D-Daddy..." I whined, my head pressing back into the silk sheets. "Feels so good..." Was all I could whimper out as his two fingers sloppily stroked inside me, generating the lewdest of noises. I was no longer an individual, but a vessel of desire, completely surrendered to his command. "Yes..." I hissed, my back arching.

"You almost there, angel?" He looked down at me, moving his head to meet my gaze and mirroring my whimpering breaths. "You gonna cum on my fingers like a good girl for Daddy?"

I nodded feverishly at him. "Yes, Daddy, I'm gonna cum so hard... Please, c-can I cum, Daddy?" I plead, looking up at him with innocent eyes. He bit on his lip hard, his gaze averting down to where his fingers connected with my body, enjoying the sight.

"I did promise you at lease five orgasms, didn't I?" He started, each question rhetorical. "I would be a pretty lousy daddy if I let you go without fulfilling those promises, wouldn't I?" He looked back up at me, his eyes as black as anything. "Cum around my fingers, sweetheart."

With a commanding nod from Brian, a surge of desire shot through my veins, compelling me to yield his dominance. My jaw slackened, and my back arched painfully as an intense pleasure coursed through my core, tightening, and pulsating around his lengthy middle fingers.

"God, you feel so good," Brian growled, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Squeeze around me, baby. Show Daddy how much you enjoy it."

A whimper escaped my lips as I obediently clenched around his fingers, my body quivering with mounting pleasure. My thighs instinctively clenched around Brian's wrist, attempting to hold on to the overwhelming sensations that threatened to consume me.

"Relax those pretty thighs, darling," Brian commanded, his voice dripping with authority. "I want you completely open for me. I want to see every tremor of pleasure."

I fought against the instinct to resist, forcing my thighs to loosen their grip, granting him unrestricted access to my pleasure. Waves of numbing ecstasy washed over me, rendering me breathless and lost in a state of euphoria.

I could hear the wet sounds of his fingers moving inside me, the slick friction only adding to the intensity of the moment. Each deliberate stroke pushed me closer to the edge, my body teetering on the precipice of release.

Brian's husky voice filled the air. "Cum for me, baby. Let yourself go."

The words echoed in my ears, igniting a surge of desire and surrender within me. The coil of tension within me tightened to its breaking point, until finally, I couldn't hold back any longer. My entire being convulsed with pleasure as a powerful climax consumed me, leaving me breathless and trembling in the wake of the intensity.

Brian forcefully withdrew his fingers from my throbbing core, causing me to gasp in both pleasure and loss. He didn't waste a second before shoving those glistening digits into my mouth, filling me up and silencing any protest with his dominance.

I moaned around his fingers, my eyes watering with a mix of desire and submission. The taste of my own arousal mingled with the salty tang of his skin, creating a sinful concoction that fuelled my insatiable hunger.

"Open wide, my obedient little slut," Brian growled. "Taste yourself. Show me how much you crave me."

I obediently parted my lips wider, taking my fingers deeper, feeling them brush against the back of my throat. The overwhelming sensations threatened me, my senses heightened by the knowledge that I was at his mercy.

I clung desperately to his wrist, my nails digging into his flesh, seeking an anchor in the midst of this dizzying pleasure. The taste, the submission, the raw power he exerted over me, it all blended into an intoxicating cocktail that pushed me further into the depths of desire.

Brian's eyes bore into mine, their intensity burning like a searing flame. He relished in the sight of my vulnerability, the surrender etched across my face. I could see the hunger in his gaze, the hunger to possess me completely, to claim me as his own.

As my body trembled with the aftershocks of my release, Brian's grip on me tightened, his dominance unwavering. He knew we were far from done, that the fire between us still raged, demanding to me stoked.

"You're mine tonight, and I'm not done with you," Brian growled, his voice laced with a primal hunger. "You belong to me, body and soul." He took his fingers from my mouth, moving some hair out my sweat-sheened face. "I need to be inside you, pretty thing," he breathed, kissing me sloppily before pulling himself up onto his knees. "Hands and knees," he once again did that thing with his finger, spinning it in a silent command that I acquiesced to without question. I weakly held myself up in an all-fours position, Brian stalking behind me.

Unable to see him, I could only imagine his gaze raking over my exposed form, his hunger growing with each passing moment. A low, primal grunt escaped his lips, a telltale sign of the torturous pleasure he was inflicting upon himself, stroking his hand along his length, relishing in the decadent excitement.

The air crackled with tension as he closed the distance, the bed shaking with his movements. I could sense his presence behind me, his heated breath caressing the nape of my neck as he leaned over me. The promise of his possession hung in the air, electrifying and intoxicating.

"You're so eager, my little temptress," he growled in a seductive rumble against my ear. "You've been aching for me, haven't you? Since you knew how to... They all ache for me like this, but you're so lucky to have me behind you, about to stretch all of you out with my cock."

My body trembled in response, craving the euphoria only he could provide. "Are you on the pill?" I promptly nodded back at him, just needing him to be inside of me already.

And then, without warning, I felt the tantalising pressure of his length at my entrance. He teased me, brushing against my slick folds, denying me the fullness I craved. It was a torment that pushed me to the edge of madness, but I knew it was all part of his exquisite control.

"Please, Daddy... I need to feel you," I practically cried out, my hips wiggling a little.

The moment stretched out, time suspended in a haze of desire. And then, in one swift, powerful thrust, he claimed me as his own. Pleasure and pain collided within me, a symphony of sensations that left me gasping for breath. The world dissolved into a symphony of moans and carnal pleasure as we became entwined for the first time.

"Jesus Christ..." he exhaled. "You surpass every fantasy, darling," he praised, his hands firmly gripping my hips, guiding me backwards to meet his initial thrust. "Does it hurt, love?"

A strained whimper escaped my lips as I lowered my head, my senses overwhelmed by the intense sensation of his cock filling me, stretching me with its commanding presence. "Just a bit..." I confessed, my words barely audible in a whisper. "But... I-I like it."

"Of course you do," he chuckled darkly, savouring the power he held over me. He withdrew, creating a fleeting void within me, only to reclaim it with a forceful thrust that elicited a gasp of pleasure. His movements grew rougher, a deliberate test to gauge my response. "You're such a dirty, naughty little girl, aren't you?"

He continued with a relentless rhythm, each thrust penetrating deeper, igniting a primal fire within me. My body quivered under his command, surrendering to the pleasure he bestowed upon me. The room filled with the sounds of our joining, a symphony of moans and the wet, rhythmic slapping of our bodies colliding.

Brian's grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh, marking me as his. With each forceful thrust, I could feel his power and dominance asserting itself, claiming me completely. I was his vessel, a conduit for his pleasure and my own.

"You were made for this, my sweet." He placed a hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me down, causing me to collapse onto my upper body, my back arching deliciously, and making Brian's thrusts hit me deeper than ever, which made me practically scream out in ecstasy. "There you go... I was waiting for you to scream for me," he breathed through a smug grin. "Now, lets see if I can get you to cum like this, then..."

With an insatiable hunger, Brian embarked on a relentless rampage of lust, thrusting into me with an unbridled force that left me breathless. The sound of our bodies colliding echoed through the room, mingling with the symphony of my moans and the lewd expletives that escaped my lips.

My senses were overwhelmed as pleasure surged through every fibre of my being. I surrendered completely to the symphony of sensations, losing myself in the wild rhythm of Brian's hips. As the pleasure built within me, I could feel the familiar stirrings of my second release. The excitement swelled, my breathing grew heavy and shallow, and I instinctively laid my head to the side on the cool pillows. My entire body moved and jolted forward with every powerful thrust that Brian delivered. I clung to the sheets, my fingers gripping them tightly.

"Yes, yes... Fuck, right there, Daddy," I moaned, my mouth hanging open as he hit every right spot within me. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum again, Daddy, please—“

"That's right, baby, let me feel you cum on my cock," he encouraged with a breathless exalt. He sent a sharp slap to the side of my arse, which edged me even closure. "Come on," he coaxed me, railing into me with a more viscous vigour, his hands pulling me against him with each thrust.

With each passing moment, the intensity escalated, pushing me closer to the edge of another mind-shattering climax. Brian's expertise and unrelenting passion drove me closer and closer, his actions meticulously calculated to elicit the most profound response from my quivering body.

The world around us faded into insignificance as I teetered on the brink. I was lost in a whirlwind of sensation, my mind consumed by pleasure, and all that mattered was the overwhelming connection between us.

And then it happened. The dam within me burst, unleashing a torrent of ecstasy that washed over me like a tidal wave. I cried out, my voice a symphony of raw desire and fulfilment. My body convulsed in rapture, every nerve ending ignited in a frenzy of pleasure.

Brian's thrusts continued, prolonging the ecstasy, each movement pushing me further into the depths of euphoria.

However, he didn't allow me a moment to catch my breath. With an almost frantic urgency, Brian swiftly positioned himself beneath me, his face now nestled between my legs. His hands gripped onto me, pulling me upwards until I was straddling his face, fully exposed to his hungry mouth. His lips claimed me once more, his skilled tongue lapping at my folds, delving deep into my entrance.

I couldn't help but run my fingers through my hair, my head falling back as the overwhelming stimulation consumed me. Brian was relentless in his pursuit of my pleasure, determined to extract another orgasm from my quivering body. He disregarded the fact that I hadn't fully recovered from the last climax, his singular focus on pushing me to new heights of ecstasy.

There was no room for hesitations or reservations. It was a raw and primal exchange, a symphony of desire and surrender. Brian's hunger for my pleasure was insatiable, his actions an unspoken command for me to abandon myself completely to the sensations coursing through me.

As I shifted my hips, I felt the firm contour of his nose glide teasingly over my sensitive clit. A surge of pleasure shot through me, and I seized the opportunity to use it to my advantage. Brian recognised my intentions and eagerly encouraged my movements. His hands gripped my backside, guiding me to grind against his face, his nose and tongue working in perfect harmony to ignite the most exquisite sensations within me.

Every glide and stroke over my swollen and aroused nub sent waves of pleasure crashing through me. I surrendered to the primal rhythm, my hips undulating in sync with Brian's skilful ministrations. His tongue ventured deeper, exploring the depths of my core with a fervour that matched my own mounting desire.

The air was thick with the heady scent of arousal, mingling with the sounds of our shared passion. Moans and gasps filled the room, a testament to the intensity of the connection we shared. In this moment, there was no room for pretence or inhibition. It was an unadulterated celebration of pleasure.

Time lost all meaning as the sensations intensified. I was on the precipice once more, teetering on the edge of an impending release. The world narrowed down to the overwhelming pleasure radiating from my core, the delicious torment building within me.

"O-Oh, shit... Br—Daddy," I mewled, looking down and seeing Brian's eyes glaring up at me, with a knowing look. He growled against me, now moving his head against me to intensify the feeling of his nose against my clit. And just like that, another climax ripped through me like a stampede of hormones. But he didn't stop, like I thought he might have. He flipped us over, so that I was now laid with my head on the pillows, looking up at the ceiling with his head still firmly shoved between my legs.

"Oh, God..." I weakly stuttered, the pain from the sensitivity unfolding into another type of pleasure altogether. The baby hairs on my head clung to my forehead, my skin flushed light pink and starting to glimmer ever so slightly with a light sheen of sweat.

Brian grunted with determination, continuing his movements on me, his fingers slipping inside me and continuing with a heavy ministration. The free hand that wasn't holding me firmly in place, yanking me even closer to him, now travelled up to my chest, using every ounce of his strength to pull down my bra, not bothering with unhooking it beforehand. He seemed to hold onto it for leverage. My whines and moans were totally unfiltered by this point, but I didn't give a single fuck.

The small glance I made down at him showed his head moving along with the motions of his tongue, completely in a world of his own as he went down on me. It made me feel better knowing he enjoyed it seemingly as much as I did.

My thighs were starting to shake uncontrollably as well as the rest of my legs, the combination of the sensitivity and the brief visual I just got of him was edging me closer and closer to another release. Already.

"Holy fuck, Daddy, I'm gonna cum again..." I groaned out one of my arms laying out on the bed beside me. My eyes shut as I revelled in this feeling. Most of my body went completely numb, but I was able to feel my forbidden, scandalous, older lover's free hand slide into mine, intertwining our fingers together. It was such a small, subtle action, but it made my heart flutter and my core clench deliciously. I squeezed onto his hand, my nails digging into the back of his as I started to grind my hips against his face.

I didn't even anticipate my second release; it happened so fast and sudden.

My voice broke and cracked as I whined out, this climax much more intense than the last one. My back was not the only part of my body that arched off the bed this time; this time, my hips rose off the bed, seemingly having a mind of their own as Brian stayed attached to me. He let me ride out the cluster of orgasms he'd just given me before eventually lifting his head up from between my legs. I was still recovering, my head buzzing and my body still tingling. I didn't even realise that Brian was crawling up and over me, watching me try to recover from that mind-altering experience.

He granted me a brief respite, allowing me to descend from the dizzying heights of pleasure. But just as I began to regain a semblance of control, he swiftly reclaimed it, his grip tightening around the back of my neck. With a commanding tone, he ordered, "Open up, love..."

My body trembled with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability as I obediently parted my lips, ready to receive his intimate offering. Brian provocatively gathered saliva in his mouth, savouring the lewd act before releasing a single droplet into my waiting mouth. The taste of him mingled with my own essence, an intoxicating blend that sent shivers down my spine

"Do you have any idea how amazing you taste, sweetheart?" he purred, his voice laced with a breathless whine. The audaciousness of the act ignited a forbidden desire within me, a thrill that I had never experienced before. In this moment, with Brian, I revelled in the taboo nature of our encounter, embracing the depths of my desires without reservation.

His unyielding gaze never faltered, and as his hand descended to his throbbing shaft, a wicket smile played upon his lips. He dragged his slick length over my sensitive core, causing me to tremble with the onslaught of pleasure. The delicate touch against my clit sent electric shocks surging through my body, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

Without delay, Brian pressed forward, his cock sliding effortlessly into my eager depths. A guttural moan escaped my lips, merging with his deep growl of satisfaction. "One more, my perfect little thing," he whispered, his voice thick with desire and dominance. He increased the tempo of his thrusts, each one driving us closer to the edge of oblivion. Our bodies collided with a symphony of flesh, a crescendo of passion that echoed through the room, fuelling his insatiable hunger for release.

I locked eyes with him, our gazes merging in a dance of primal desire. His sculpted form glistened with a sheen of perspiration, his dishevelled hair framing his face in a wild halo, and his jaw clenched with unrelenting determination. He embodied raw masculinity, and untamed force that overwhelmed my senses.

As our bodies moved in perfect synchrony, the tension grew with each passing second. The room became a sanctuary of pleasure, filled with the cacophony of our moans and the intoxicating scent of our arousal. Every thrust brought us closer to the precipice, our shared climax shimmering on the horizon, a tantalising promise that held us captive.

"Oh God, Brian," I gasped, losing the pet name, the closer I got to what would be an other-worldly release.

He met my subtle plea with a wicked grin, his thrusts growing more forceful, driving us to the brink. "Hold on tight, darling," he rasped, his voice dripping with carnal hunger.

With each primal thrust, the crescendo rose, pleasure and ecstasy threatening to consume us. I clung to him, my nails digging into his flesh.

"Cum for me, one last time, baby, I know you can do it for Daddy," he reaffirmed one last time. And in the final crescendo, time stood still. Our bodies moved as one, a frenzy of need and desire. The air crackled with electricity, the room filled with the sound of our moans mingling, our rhythm reaching a fevered pitch.

And then, with a primal roar, we shattered. A surge of ecstasy coursed through me, radiating from the depths of my core to every sinch of my being. It was an earth-shattering climax, an explosion of pleasure that consumed us both, obliterating any thought or sense of self.

As waves washed over us, our bodies convulsed in tandem, locked in a euphoric embrace. My mouth hung open, and broken cries fell from it, as I experienced the most intense, harsh orgasm of my life.

"Fuuuck!" Brian's animalistic growl rang in the air, as he stilled inside me, shooting his thick load deep within me. Brian May's release. Inside of me. He clung to me, dropping his head down to bury his face in my neck as he slowed his thrusts. He let out whimpers of his come down, his arms wrapped tightly around me.

As our laboured breaths mingled in the air, a moment of surprise interrupted the post-coital haze. Sensing a different sensation, I glanced down, my tired eyes widening in disbelief. A pool of wetness glistened beneath me, evidence of an uncharted territory of pleasure.

"Oh, God..." I gasped, my face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and astonishment. I instinctively covered my face, overwhelmed by the unexpected release. Brian, still catching his breath, followed my gaze, his expression shifting from confusion to a knowing smile.

Chuckling softly, he gently removed my hands from my blushing face, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and amusement. With tender reassurance, he pressed a loving peck on my nose before capturing my lips in a lingering kiss.

"Darling," he murmured, his voice laced with affectionate amusement. "You've been with the wrong people if they've never made you squirt before."

With a smug smirk at his accomplishment, he swiftly stood up from the bed, momentarily disappearing into the bathroom and then returning a short while after with a small face cloth. He kneeled in front of me, placing one hand on my knee and gently guiding it to the side so he could have access to me. He was clearly experienced in this, and it made me blush as he cleaned me up; he did it as slow as ever, his eyes feasting upon my worn-out state. After all, he had just given me five mind-altering orgasms. Just as promised.

"There we go," he sighed, throwing the cloth to the side and leaning down above me. "All perfect," he gave me another heated kiss, his tongue rolling into my mouth sensually, making my eyes flutter shut. He broke the kiss and smirked down at me. "Happy you didn't get on the Euro?"

"Definitely," I breathed out with an airy laugh. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting this to happen today..." I bit my lip, for some reason finding it difficult to look him in the eyes.

"I'll be honest, I didn't either," he chuckled, moving beside me and pulling me into his side.

The only thing now was figuring out how to leave. Surely, there'd have to be that conversation. And surely, he didn't want me staying there. After all, he was a renowned rock star, in a committed relationship with someone much closer to his own age, on a press tour, eyes on him 24/7.

"What's going on up there, love?" He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at me. "I'm not throwing you out, if that's what you're wondering."

I looked at him, shocked. "Really?"

He laughed down at me smoothly, admiring my innocent state. "Of course not. Why would I get rid of something so perfect?" He purred down at me. My perplexity stayed, but I lacked the energy to question him further.

"We'll talk in the morning, sweet thing," he stroked over my hair. "Now, I think we should sleep."

Like a train conductor, he commanded our every act, and we did exactly that. Sleeping next to Brian May in a luxury hotel in Germany, after being pummelled into the mattress of his king-size bed, was so much better of an alternative to staying in a three-star hotel with colleagues that would reprimand me non-stop for my slip up at the studio. I hadn't even received a call from Candice to check up on me, or ask where I was, since I did disappear without notifying anybody.

I must have overslept, since by the time morning rolled around, the bed felt ominously cold and void of any other human presence. I fluttered my eyes open, stretching my arm out instinctively to find that Brian was no longer beside me. But as I came round, I noticed a piece of paper sat delicately on the bedside table. I tiredly sat up, crawling over to it and picking it up, letting my eyes gaze over the pristine cursive that adorned its surface.

Y/N,

Last night was incredible, and I found myself sat awake in the early hours of this morning, whilst you slept beside me. You looked so perfect and at ease. Anyway, I had to run out and get some stuff done this morning, but don't worry, my perfect Y/N, you stay right where you are, and I shall be back before midday. In the meantime, order room service, take a shower, do whatever you need to do. And maybe call that old sow from the studio and tell her you quit. I needed a new PR person, anyway. And you? You're perfect for me.

See you later, sweet girl.

Bri x

[leadandblood]

*Throws this at you and dies*

I hope you enjoy it 🥰 im going to bed now <3

As always the tags hide most of whatever is going on so. Read those if you're new. Or if you're returning, it's handy, too.

If there's something you'd like me to tag, tell me, plz ^^

[rikandadefest]

Rik and Ade Fest 2024

And now for a fourth year running: it's the Rik and Ade Fest! We've been trying to get your attention for the past 10 weeks, so hopefully you're listening! Give this blog a follow NOW to stay up to date as this year's fest progresses. Right on!

As usual, you can submit up to 3 prompts for fanart and/or fanfic for any piece of media featuring Rik and/or Ade. Also, as usual, you don't need to commit to making art or fic later to submit a prompt. We need more prompts than participants!

PLEASE READ THIS BIT! 🚨

Unusually, there's an extra rule in place for prompts this year. We're asking you to please not send in any prompts for The Young Ones or Bottom - just for this year! Next year, you can go mad!

Why are we asking this of you? Is it just that we're bastards? Well, we've noticed an (unsurprising) bias towards these two shows throughout fests, so we're trying to give Rik and Ade's lesser known/popular media a chance.

If you do accidentally submit a TYO or Bottom prompt this year, never fear! We won't be adding it to the prompt list this time, but we will hold on to it and add it next year. As well as this, all the previous unclaimed prompts for TYO and Bottom will still be available for artists and writers to claim and make work for this year.

But anyway, here's the ol' reliable Google Form for submissions. It will be open from today (23rd March) until 1st April.

If you're new to the Rik and Ade Fest or just want a refresher, the guidelines are available on the #RikAndAdeFest2024 ao3 collection:

Happy submitting, scumbags! You can contact @xgardensinspace or @neil-neil-orange-peel if you have any questions.

We are aware our fanart books currently have broken links. This is a recent occurrence. Ao3 cannot host pictures, so all fests' art is hosted elsewhere. We're looking for a new host site and may have to contact certain past artists for their art again once one is found. We intend to have this issue fixed before this year's fest is revealed in June. We apologise if this discourages artists from participating, though we would always encourage you to share your art on Tumblr, Instagram, or elsewhere too once a fest is revealed, in any case.

[kalliesa]

Participated in the lovely @sinelaborenihilsr2 's "Solo Satisfaction: Filthy Flash Fiction Challenge" and had an absolute blast!

I wrote a Tavstarion AU I've been obsessing over for months, featuring a Priest Astarion and a Paladin Tav.

Fic Link here.

I encourage everyone to check out the collection and/or add your own your work if you're feeling inspired!

Collection Link Here.

Have fun, darlings! 💖

[star4daisy]

If I don't wake up in time for college tomorrow it's cuz I was writing some rosekiller filth they've consumed my mind I can't stop seeing it its begging to be written

[7nessasaryevils]

my next post will be about The Sign but for now, enjoy some filth from Laws of Attraction

[to-a-merrier-world]

me, finally updating my fic on ao3 after an extended absence:

[miss-celestia13]

Howl for Me

“As I said, cruel.” His hands fell away from her chest, grabbing her hips and stopping her from wriggling, his fingers dragging up the skirt of her gown by inches. “I should deny you. Teach you a lesson for abandoning your King.”

A snarl curled her lips as she turned to look at him, shadows casting his face into something otherworldly. His glossy slate eyes, as changeable as the weather, pulled at and stared through her, a tingle in her chest dripping down and into her core, where it burned like wildfire.

“If you dare, I shall hold a dinner with the King and Queen every night for a moon’s turn,” she threatened, though her voice shook as his calloused fingers ghosted her bare thigh and his knee parted her legs.

Daenerys leaves Jon alone to host a dinner, knowing he will use his frustration to her lusty advantage once he comes to find her. It works better than she anticipated.

[doormatty3]

Blizzards and Beef Stew - Chapter 2 (Patrick Wilson x FOC)

Masterlist Ao3

Blizzards and Beef Stew Masterlink

Summary

[Patrick Wilson x Original Female Character] [Patrick Wilson x Original Character] Éléanor had always adored winter: its snow, its crisp air. But what she treasured most was retreating to her cosy cabin in the Swedish mountains. There, she could bake, sketch, and enjoy the solitude, far from the noise of the world. At least, that’s how it used to be—until a new neighbour arrived. Patrick Wilson was tall, charming, and with a smile that seemed to melt the coldest days. A s they struck up a friendship, Éléanor found herself drawn to him, even though he remained oddly secretive about his last name and evasive about his work. But when a fierce snowstorm trapped them both, it became clear that Patrick might just be the warmth she needed in more ways than one. OR: Patrick uses his body to warm up Éléanor in the snowy mountains.

Wordcount: 4036

A/N: I just really really want a hot dude (Patrick Wilson) chopping wood in front of my window. Is that too much to ask, universe?

The next day began as peacefully as the other mornings before, with soft light spilling into her cabin, illuminating the snow-covered landscape outside her window. She had become familiar with the tranquillity of these mornings—silent, serene, with nothing but the sound of the wind brushing through the trees. However, as she walked barefoot to the kitchen, she glanced out of the window and froze mid-step.

There, outside, was Patrick again.

She didn’t even need to step closer to see him—he was right there in the clearing between their cabins, chopping wood with deliberate precision. But today, unlike yesterday, he had taken off his beanie, and his thick, wavy hair caught the morning light. His brown locks were a bit messy from the effort, curling slightly at the tips and damp with sweat, even in the chilly air.

His jacket was unzipped and tossed aside on the porch, leaving him in just a thermal shirt that clung to his broad chest and strong arms. 

As he lifted the axe above his head, his shirt stretched tightly across his chest and shoulders, revealing the lean, athletic build underneath. Each powerful swing of the axe seemed effortless, his muscles flexing as the wood split cleanly in two. His face, focused yet calm, made it clear that this wasn’t something he struggled with. It was like watching him in his element.

She moved closer to the window, leaning her elbows on the sill as she watched him, mesmerised.

Her eyes drifted over him, taking in every detail—the curve of his jaw, dusted lightly with stubble, the way his breath came out in puffs of mist, the way his hair shone golden in the early light. He paused for a moment, running a hand through his hair, and Éléanor couldn’t help but notice how naturally handsome he was. 

Her fingers itched for her sketchbook once again.

Éléanor grabbed it from the table and settled onto the window seat without much thought. 

At first, she began lightly—just a few soft lines, mapping out his form, starting with the broad, powerful shape of his shoulders. Her pencil danced across the page, tracing the bend of his spine as he leaned into each swing of the axe, the slight tension in his arms, and the way his hands gripped the wooden handle.

As she worked, Éléanor’s eyes flicked from the window to the sketchbook, back and forth in a rhythm as fluid as Patrick’s movements. She sketched the way his hair fell into his face as he wiped his brow and the way the sunlight caught the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Every stroke of her pencil brought him to life on the page—the sharp angles of his jaw, the scruff of his stubble, and the slight narrowing of his eyes as he focused on the task at hand.

She moved quickly, capturing his stance in broad strokes—the confident, grounded way he stood, feet planted firmly in the snow, his body steady and sure. But as the minutes passed, her sketches became more detailed and intimate, filling page after page.

In her most comprehensive drawing, which filled an entire page, she concentrated on the finer details with her watercolours. She refined the subtle way his chest rose and fell with each breath and how his fingers curled around the axe handle, strong and capable. She added the texture of his shirt,  highlighting the folds in the fabric as it stretched over his frame and the way his muscles moved beneath it.

And then there was his face. Éléanor slowed down here, taking her time as she focused on the sharp lines of his features while refining her sketch. His eyes, deep blue and intense, were slightly shadowed beneath his brow, but they glimmered in the sunlight as he paused to stack the wood. She traced the strong line of his nose and the fullness of his lips, slightly parted as he breathed heavily from the work.

The more she drew, the more she noticed—the way the cold air turned his cheeks a little pink, the mess of his hair as he ran a hand through it absent-mindedly, and the way the muscles in his arms tensed and relaxed with each movement. There was a rawness to him, a quiet strength that fascinated her.

Her drawing began to take on a life of its own, each line breathing energy into the paper. The light shadowing on his face, the depth in his eyes, and the firmness of his stance—she was capturing everything.

As she added the final details to his face, her phone buzzed on the table, startling her.

She glanced at it and saw a message from Virginie.

―――――――――――――

Virginie : Why didn’t you come to Spain with me? There are so many hotties here, ma chérie!

―――――――――――――

Éléanor chuckled, setting her sketchbook aside momentarily as she glanced out the window again. Patrick was taking a break now, leaning on the axe’s handle, catching his breath. His face was flushed from the cold and exertion, but his easy smile as he wiped his forehead sent a shiver through her.

She smirked, then typed back:

―――――――――――――

Éléanor : Well, I may have a hottie here myself.

―――――――――――――

Almost instantly, her phone buzzed again, and this time, it was an incoming call.

“Ugh, of course,” Éléanor muttered, already knowing what was coming. She answered the call and put it on speaker.

“WHAT?!” Virginie’s voice practically screeched through the speaker, filled with excitement. “You’re in the middle of nowhere, and there’s a hottie? Tell me everything immediately! Don’t hold back on me, Éléanor!”

Éléanor stifled a laugh, watching as Patrick wiped his hands on his jeans and moved to stack the freshly chopped wood. “Okay, calm down,” she said, keeping her voice casual. “He’s just staying in the cabin next door.”

Virginie scoffed. “Next door? Next door in the middle of nowhere? Don’t play coy with me. What’s his name? Is he cute? No, scratch that. How hot is he? Like, is he actually hot, or are you just starved for human contact up there?”

Éléanor glanced out of the window again, and her heart gave an involuntary flutter as Patrick bent to pick up another log, his shirt stretching taut across his back. “His name’s Patrick. And… yeah, he’s… um, he’s definitely hot,” she admitted. “But it’s not like that. He’s just… around.”

“Oh my God, of course he is. Details, woman!” Virginie demanded, her voice rising in dramatic excitement.

Éléanor shifted, feeling a little embarrassed. “Okay, fine. He’s tall, maybe around six feet, with sandy-blond brownish hair. It’s kind of wavy and, well… he took off his hat, and it looks even better in the sun. His eyes are this striking blue—like, really blue. And he’s got this rugged, outdoorsy look going on. I mean, he’s currently out there chopping wood, so… yeah. It’s a scene.”

“Stop right now,” Virginie gasped. “He’s chopping wood? This is like something out of one of those cheesy romance novels!”

Éléanor laughed. “Yeah, it kind of is. And he’s really strong. I mean, the way he swings that axe… it’s impressive.”

Virginie sighed deeply on the other end of the line. “So basically, you’re living out every woman’s fantasy right now. You know that, right?”

“Oh, come on,” Éléanor said, shaking her head. “It’s not like that. He’s just a neighbour, and we’ve only exchanged some small talk.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Virginie replied, clearly not convinced. “And what exactly did you two talk about, hmm? Don’t leave anything out.”

“Well,” Éléanor began, glancing out of the window as Patrick stacked another log of wood. “He helped to shovel my driveway yesterday. We had tea on the porch afterwards. We just talked about, you know, the weather, the mountains, and why we’re both here. He’s really down-to-earth, actually. Quiet, but in a nice way.”

Virginie made a noise of disbelief. “And you didn’t immediately jump him? Éléanor, I’m starting to think you’ve been in those mountains too long.”

Éléanor flushed, laughing. “I’m not going to jump him!”

“You’re in a literal cabin romance scenario… and here you are, 34, with your nose stuck in your sourdough jar and sketchbook.”

There was a long pause on Éléanor’s end, her cheeks flushing as she looked down at her sketchbook and the detailed watercolour drawing of Patrick.

“You’re drawing him, aren’t you?” Virginie gasped theatrically. “You sneaky little stalker.”

Éléanor laughed, holding the phone away from her mouth. “I am not a stalker. He’s just right there, and I’ve got my sketchbook.”

“Uh-huh,” Virginie said with a grin in her voice. “And yet, you’ve not sent me a picture? The hypocrisy, Éléanor.”

Éléanor smirked, glancing out of the window one more time as Patrick raised his axe for another swing. “Absolutely not,” she said. “I’m not some creepy paparazzi.”

“Oh, come on,” Virginie whined. “Just a little one? For research purposes, of course. For me, as a friend.”

“Nope,” Éléanor said firmly, her voice light with amusement. “I’m not invading his privacy like that.”

“Privacy, schmivacy,” Virginie shot back. “This man sounds like a walking dream. I bet he wouldn’t even mind. But, okay, I’ll stop bugging you about the photo. For now. But listen, you need to let me live vicariously through you. How’s he dressed? What’s the wood-chopping outfit?”

Éléanor sighed, stealing another glance outside. “He’s wearing this snug thermal shirt—it’s dark grey and fits him really well. His jacket’s off, so you can see his arms and chest quite clearly. And he’s wearing these rugged jeans. Honestly, the whole look is very… outdoorsman chic.”

“Oh my God,” Virginie groaned dramatically. “You’re killing me. I’m stuck in Spain with a bunch of drunk idiots, and you’re over there with a real-life lumberjack hottie.”

Éléanor shook her head, laughing. “You’ll be fine in Spain. I’m sure there are plenty of guys there who’ll catch your eye.”

Virginie huffed. “Maybe, but none of them are chopping wood for me in the snow. This is unfair.”

“Well, like I said, he’s just a neighbour. Nothing’s going on,” Éléanor said, though even as she said it, she couldn’t shake the little thrill she got from watching him.

“Uh-huh,” Virginie replied, unconvinced. “You’ve got a hottie right next door. Don’t waste this opportunity, Éléanor. Seriously. When’s the next time you’re going to have a situation like this?”

Éléanor rolled her eyes playfully. “Okay, okay. But I’m not just going to throw myself at him, Virginie.”

“I’m just saying,” Virginie teased. “You deserve some fun. And maybe… something more?”

“Virginie!” Éléanor said with a laugh, “I didn’t come here for a man… I came here because of the solitude and quiet.”

Virginie sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. But you better tell me everything. What’s his deal? Does he live up there, or is he just hiding out like you?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Éléanor said, biting her lip as she thought about it. “He said he’s here to get away from things. But it’s only been a couple of days, and we’ve just had some small talk. He’s easy to be around, though. Like… I don’t know, normal.”

“Hm,” Virginie hummed thoughtfully. “Normal, hot, and right next door? Éléanor, this is your chance to finally touch someone who isn’t yeast-based.”

Éléanor protested with a laugh, her cheeks flushing. “Hey! Leave Jacques out of this.”

Virginie sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if you two have some steamy cabin romance, I expect full details.”

“Yes yes…Now goodbye, Virginie,” Éléanor said, laughing as she hung up the call.

She placed her phone down and stretched, feeling both amused and a little flustered. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a movement outside. Patrick had finished chopping and was now glancing over at her cabin. Éléanor’s breath caught when he met her gaze through the window.

Had he seen her watching him? Or sketching? The thought sent a small thrill through her, but she quickly masked it with a smile, offering him a friendly wave and opening her window.

To her surprise, he waved back, smiling, his axe resting on his shoulder. Then he called out, his voice carrying easily through the crisp morning air. “Do you have enough firewood, or do you need more?”

Éléanor’s heart skipped a beat, momentarily mesmerised by his deep voice. He looked even more striking now—his hair slightly messy from exertion, his blue eyes bright against the cold air.

“I’m good!” she called back, hoping her voice didn’t sound as flustered as she felt. “Plenty stocked up!”

Patrick nodded, his grin easy and warm. “Alright, just checking. If you need more, don’t hesitate.”

She smiled, her heart fluttering a little at his casual offer. “Thanks! I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Patrick turned and headed back to his cabin, Éléanor couldn’t help but bite her lip, watching him walk away. He was such a presence—strong, capable, and far too attractive for her peace of mind.

She looked down at her sketchbook again, fingers brushing the painting she had made. There he was, captured on the page—every detail of his movements, his focused expression, the subtle lines of his strong jaw, all immortalised in her art.

Virginie was right about one thing—Éléanor was definitely enjoying the view.

_____

As the evening settled in, Éléanor felt an urge to lose herself in the familiar, comforting ritual of baking. After watching Patrick chopping wood from her window all day, she needed the soothing routine of kneading dough and stirring pots. She glanced at her trusty sourdough starter, Jacques, which bubbled happily on the counter. 

Tying her apron around her waist, she gathered her ingredients. The flour, water, and salt came together beneath her hands, the dough taking shape with a rhythmic push and pull. As Éléanor kneaded, her thoughts wandered back to Patrick. 

He had looked even more rugged that morning, chopping wood like some kind of lumberjack straight out of a daydream.

She thought about how his face had sharp features softened by a boyish smile when he glanced over at her cabin, unaware she was sketching him again. His blue eyes gleamed like the sky against the backdrop of snow, and there was something effortlessly handsome about the way he moved, confident but not in a showy way.

Éléanor found herself smiling, her hands working the dough with renewed energy. 

Once she had finished, she set the dough aside to let it rise as she set about preparing her French beef stew, boeuf bourguignon. 

The rich smell of onions sautéing in butter filled the cabin, mingling with the crisp scent of the winter air sneaking through the cracked window.

She chopped the carrots, celery, and mushrooms into perfect little pieces, tossing them into the pot with the browned beef. The sizzle of the meat meeting the hot pan was satisfying, each sear deepening the flavour.

Pouring in a generous glug of red wine, Éléanor inhaled the rich, earthy aroma as it mixed with the herbs and vegetables. She moved with practised grace, tasting and adjusting the seasoning as she went, lost in the rhythm of cooking. 

The stew simmered on low, filling the cabin with warmth, while she shaped her risen dough into a beautiful round loaf, scored the top, and placed it in the oven.

As the bread baked, she leaned over the counter to peek into the oven, watching the crust form and turn golden, the smell of sourdough wafting through the room. The loaf crackled as it rose, promising a perfect, airy crumb beneath its crispy crust.

After the bread had finished baking, she carefully donned a pair of thick, quilted oven mitts to protect her hands from the intense heat. Opening the oven door, she let out a rush of warm, fragrant air that surrounded her. As she reached in to grab the heavy cast-iron baking pan, she felt the comforting weight of the loaf as she lifted it out.

The bread had emerged beautifully from the oven; its crust was a perfect golden brown, glistening slightly from the steam. The detailed leaf-shaped indents she had painstakingly created before baking stood out prominently against the snowy white flour dusting the surface.

On a whim and after looking at her bread for a few minutes, Éléanor wrapped the still-warm loaf in a clean kitchen towel. Before she could second-guess herself, she made her way to the door, wanting to bring it to Patrick. He had been so kind, shovelling her driveway without a second thought, and this was her way of thanking him.

Éléanor bundled up in her thick coat, slipping on her scarf and boots before heading outside. The night air was crisp and biting, the sky above her inky black, yet the windows of Patrick’s cabin glowed warmly in the distance, with a faint trail of smoke curling from his chimney. With the loaf in her arms, she trudged through the snow, her breath misting in the cold.

Her heart raced a little as she approached the door and knocked. She could hear the faint sound of movement inside before Patrick opened it. 

His face lit up in surprise, and Éléanor couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked, even in casual clothes. 

His hair, still slightly tousled from earlier, framed his face perfectly, and the firelight accentuated the flecks of grey in his stubble. His scent—earthy with hints of pine and a subtle cologne—enveloped her as she entered, adding to the cabin’s warm and inviting atmosphere.

“Hey,” Éléanor said with a shy smile, her breath misting in the cold air. “I, um, thought I’d bring you a thank-you for shovelling my driveway. Freshly baked sourdough.”

Patrick’s grin widened, genuine and boyish, as the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting this. That’s really nice of you. Come in.”

He stepped aside, and Éléanor entered the cabin, immediately greeted by the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth. The interior of Patrick’s cabin was much like her own—simple and rustic, with wooden beams and stone accents—but it was also infused with a certain charm. 

The fire cast a soft, golden glow, and a few personal touches—books stacked on the coffee table, a guitar leaning against the wall—gave the space an inviting feel.

“Your place is lovely,” Éléanor said, taking it all in as she removed her coat and scarf.

“Thanks,” Patrick replied, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to make it feel like home. It’s not as cosy as yours, I’m sure.”

Éléanor smiled, placing the bread on his kitchen counter. “Well, it looks good in here. You have a fire going, and that’s half the battle.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Patrick said, eyeing the loaf appreciatively. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Well, you did shovel my driveway. I figured it’s the least I could do,” Éléanor replied, slipping off her coat and scarf.

“I’m sure it’s amazing,” he said, grabbing a bread knife and cutting into the loaf. The sound of the crispy crust breaking apart was music to her ears, and the smell of the warm, freshly baked bread filled the room. 

He handed her a piece, and she noticed the warmth of the bread mixing with the faint scent of Patrick’s cologne. She watched as he took one for himself, spreading a little butter on it.

They stood there for a moment, savouring the bread in comfortable silence. Éléanor couldn’t help but glance at Patrick, admiring the way his lips curled slightly as he chewed.

“This is incredible,” Patrick finally said, breaking the silence. “You weren’t kidding when you said baking is your thing.”

Éléanor smiled, a flush of pride warming her cheeks. “Thank you. I’ve been baking for as long as I can remember. It’s kind of my specialty.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but…wow”, he chuckled, taking another bite. “This is the best bread I’ve had in… probably ever.”

They moved to sit near the fire, Patrick offering her a spot on the couch. The atmosphere was cosy and easy, and Éléanor found herself relaxing more than she had in days. Patrick poured them each a glass of wine, and soon they were sharing more than just bread.

Éléanor couldn’t help but observe how the firelight played on his features, softening his rugged appearance and highlighting the flecks of grey in his beard. His stubble had thickened since he got here but seemed to focus mostly on his upper lip, where a soft moustache was starting to form. 

She realised he was likely a bit older than she initially thought—his bright blue eyes and that charming, boyish smile had fooled her, yet she found herself not caring about that at all.

“So, what brings you out here, really?” Éléanor asked after a moment, swirling her wine in the glass. “I mean, the mountains are nice, but they’re not exactly a quick trip.”

Patrick leaned back in his chair, the firelight casting a soft glow over his face. “I needed a break. From work, from the city, from… everything. It’s nice to get away from the chaos.”

Éléanor nodded, understanding all too well. “I get that. I come out here for the same reason. I live in a small town, but even that can feel overwhelming sometimes. This place is my escape.”

“Your café, right? I think you mentioned that the other day,” Patrick said, his eyes curious.

“Yeah, I run a little café in France with my best friend, Virginie,” Éléanor said, smiling fondly at the memory of her café. “It’s small, but it’s home. We serve homemade bread, pastries, and a few simple meals. It’s a quiet life, but I love it.”

Patrick smiled, looking impressed. “That sounds perfect. A lot simpler than what I’m used to.”

“And what is it that you do, exactly?” Éléanor asked, her curiosity piqued by his vagueness. “You mentioned being in the entertainment industry, but you didn’t really say much more.”

Patrick shrugged, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. “Yeah… I’m just in the entertainment industry, nothing more, but it’s… a lot sometimes. That’s why I came here. To get away from all the pressure.”

Éléanor raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not pressing. “That makes sense. I imagine it’s hard to find peace in that kind of world.”

“It can be,” he admitted, his gaze flickering to the fire for a moment. “But being here, it reminds me of what really matters. The simple things.”

She nodded, feeling a quiet connection with him. They both sought refuge in these mountains for different reasons, but the end goal was the same—peace, simplicity, a break from the chaos of life.

They talked late into the night, sharing stories about their lives, their favourite foods, and the peace they both found in simple, quiet moments. 

Patrick had an easy charm about him, making her laugh with dry humour and gentle teasing. The conversation felt natural, and Éléanor found herself forgetting the outside world as they sat by the fire, sharing bread and wine.

Before she knew it, the evening had slipped away, and the fire had burned low. Éléanor stood, feeling the comforting weight of contentment in her chest. “I should probably get back to my cabin,” she said softly. “Thank you for the wine.”

“No, thank you for the bread,” Patrick replied, his smile warm. “And hey, if you ever need more firewood, just let me know.”

Éléanor smiled, touched by his offer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As she made her way back to her cabin, the cold air nipping at her cheeks, Éléanor felt lighter than she had in days. There was something about Patrick—his kindness, his quiet strength—that put her at ease.

Once inside her cabin, she decided to check on her firewood supply before turning in for the night. She opened the door to the shed, and her heart sank. The pile of wood she had so confidently assured Patrick about earlier was nearly gone.

“Damn it,” she muttered, realising too late that she had underestimated how much wood she would need.

She stood there for a moment, the cold air biting at her skin, before closing the door with a sigh. She’d have to swallow her pride and ask Patrick for help sooner than she thought.

[artemisesbitch]

Me after reading the most explicit, smut filled, filthy, 21+, god deserting ao3 fic in existence: Awwww how cute 🥰

[taebear24]

Datsuzoku

3.5k / complete

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42481176