#the playfulness and desire and wariness all mixed up together

[the-dream-team]

From National Treasure: ʺ In another life… I arranged a number of operations of… questionable legality. ʺ

Thank you for this incredible prompt!! This is the silliest thing I’ve ever written, so I hope you enjoy :)

Read on Ao3

In another life… I arranged a number of operations of… questionable legality

James Potter had always been a menace.

The vendors who set up their stands in Godric Hollow’s town square knew to be wary of the young boy, whose messy black mop of hair was just visible over their countertops as he skipped from booth to booth. No one was certain where he came from or where his parents might be (though Marcus, the apple harvester, swore he once saw the kid just over the hill with an unexpectedly kind older couple), but everyone knew trouble followed the boy like an obedient puppy.

It started with the usual childhood mischief. He would show up at the farmer’s market, seemingly out of nowhere, wielding twigs from a nearby tree or sometimes a cardboard sword. Always battling an imaginary enemy. Large bursts of energy mixed with childish incoordination would result in smashed crates of potatoes or torn awnings. Farmers turned red with frustration, but their wives brushed them off, absolutely charmed by those big hazel eyes behind even bigger wire-rimmed glasses. The boy would wreak havoc and get off without so much as a loving pinch on the cheek.

But then one summer, once his glasses started fitting his face and those wide eyes became more calculating, the real hijinks began. Peculiar things seemed to happen whenever the young boy made his way to the square. Marty’s carrots would suddenly appear on Andrew’s cabbage display, as if out of thin air. Abigail's piglet disappeared, then reappeared again, squealing up a storm, in Michael’s barrel of beans. Oddities popped up left and right around the child, still too small to reach the booth’s counters without having to balance on his tiptoes. The vendors groveled and knit their brows into headaches, but the boy would flash his little grin and the wives would fawn, offering up samples of their best honey or slices of freshly baked bread.

Eventually, the farmers settled into their new routine of expecting the unexpected. Until one day, when the unexpected turned into the unbelievable.

The boy was making his rounds one sunny morning, peering over the fruits and vegetables, when Helga offered him a strawberry. He beamed, reached out for the piece of fruit, and then yelped when the berry burst from his hand, transforming into a flittering hummingbird.

Those wide eyes turned to saucers as he watched the bird fly off, leaving its strawberry brothers behind in their basket. The look he flashed at the berry farmer was one of deep disturbance and the boy disappeared on the spot, leaving the rest of the vendors to grapple with what should have been impossible.

They didn’t see the boy for days, and the farmers would have reveled in the much-desired calm, but the mystery behind the hummingbird still sat fresh in their memories. But then one morning, the vendors all held a collective breath as the little boy marched down the street, directly to the town square, with a little jingling satchel in hand.

He went straight to the strawberry stand, meeting Helga with a determined stare and a gold coin in his outstretched hand. She tentatively accepted the strange looking currency and nervously handed over a basket of berries, flinching as he reached out to collect his purchase.

The boy looked at his basket, then back to Helga, and grabbed a handful of strawberries. Just like before, the berries erupted into delicate little hummingbirds and flew off through the village. The boy puffed his chest out at his accomplishment and his eyes surveyed the other booths, looking for his next victim.

The farmers were in a state of shock. Possibly a shared psychosis that could only be explained by spending a little too much time under the summer sun. They waited patiently as the boy decided who would receive his next gold coin.

It ended up being Daniel, the cabbage farmer, who watched in awe as his heads of lettuce transformed into a swarm of skittish squirrels with just a light touch of the young boy’s hand.

One by one, the strange little boy purchased, transformed, and set free an entire zoo’s worth of animals. More than one weary eye drifted to the town’s church lingering above them, wondering what kind of miracle or devil’s work they might be witnessing.

And then, he left, a litter of kittens and rabbits following in his wake.

Four years later, the boy with messy hair and glasses (that definitely now fit his face) sat in the Hogwarts dungeons with three other boys, cleaning out cauldrons.

“Bloody infuriating that they took our wands, don’t you think, James?” said the boy with longer hair and sharp features. He lazily scrubbed the same spot on his cauldron over and over, even though it had become clean ages ago.

“Don’t be daft, Sirius,” said James, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back of his hand. “We aren’t allowed our wands in detention, otherwise we’d have this washing done in a minute.”

“My mum says doing things the Muggle way builds character,” added the third boy, tucking his sandy bangs behind his ears.

“Well Remus,” responded the fourth boy with watery eyes, “the rest of us grew up not ever having to do it the Muggle way. Maybe since you’re most used to it, you can take care of the rest of these cauldrons for us.”

“Bugger off, Peter,” said Remus, throwing a very dirty washcloth and hitting Peter square in the face.

The four boys laughed together before getting back to their scrubbing.

“Oh, look who it is,” came a sneering voice from the doorway of the Potions classroom. “Potter and his gang of cowardly lions. What is this, the third detention you lot have had this week?”

“Shove off, Snivellus,” spat Sirius, throwing up a few choice fingers at the greasy-haired boy.

“Come on, Sev, don’t bother with them,” came a softer voice from behind the boy.

“Is that Evans?” called James, his interest piquing. He ran his hand through his hair, forgetting how much grime had coated his fingers during the course of the detention. When the red head girl peaked out behind her friend to see James picking out dirt from his fringe, she giggled.

“Potter, it looks like you’ve been rolling around in the mud with Hagrid’s pigs,” she said with a teasing grin. Severus shifted next to her, his eyes flashing at her playful tone.

“That might be so,” laughed James with his signature lopsided smile, “but at least I’m still not half as greasy as Snivellus, here.”

Severus turned bright red and reached into his robe pocket to draw his wand. “Lutum!” he shouted, and a thick layer of dirt coated the piles of freshly cleaned cauldrons.

The boys jumped up in outrage, but Severus had a wand and they were defenseless.

“This is bollocks!” barked Sirius, a dangerous shadow crossing his face.

“Tough luck,” smirked Severus, turning back to Evans with a smug look across his face. “Come on, Lily, let’s go practice our Pepper Up potions.” And with one last smarmy look, he led her into another classroom across the hallway.

“That’s not fair,” whined Peter, looking at his now-dirty cauldron.

James still stared at the doorway where Severus and Evans stood just a moment before. “Well, we’re not going to let him get away with that.”

“But we don’t have our wands,” pointed out Remus, who had gone back to patiently scrubbing his own cauldron.

“I have a plan,” said James simply.

“Mate, I think Remus has a point,” Sirius said with a huff. “What could you possibly do to Snape? We’re just a bunch of wandless first years.”

“Look boys,” said James confidently, “In another life… I arranged a number of operations of… questionable legality. I learned some skills back then that may prove useful in our current hour of need.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter stared at him, matching dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

James stood and surveyed the dirty cauldrons around him and looked at his hands. He took a deep breath.

In theory, he knew what he had to do. It was just a matter of concentrating. Focusing on a goal and letting the magic burst through his fingers. There weren’t any fruits or vegetables in the dungeons, but that shouldn’t matter. Maybe when James was younger, when his imagination ran a little wilder and his grasp on transfiguration wasn’t quite as strong, he believed that animals were stuck inside strawberries and ears of corn. But James was a wizard in training now. With a few months of transfiguration under his belt, he knew that any object could become anything new.

So he paced back and forth, letting himself fall back into the mindset of being a little boy sneaking out of his family’s cottage while his parents were busy reading that morning’s copy of the Daily Prophet. He remembered the thrill of running off to the village, just as independent as any other adult visiting the market, and marching up to the stalls of fruits and vegetables and honey. He could almost smell the freshly baked bread, see the kind smiles of the farmers’ wives as they ruffled his hair and sent him off with fresh apples and oatmeal cookies.

He let himself live in those not-so-distant memories and channeled all their warmth to his fingertips as he reached out and touched the nearest cauldron.

With a flash, it became a potbelly pig.

“Bloody hell!” shouted Peter.

“Merlin’s beard!” laughed Sirius.

“Holy shit,” gasped Remus.

James sent them a crooked smile, cracked his knuckles, and swiftly got to work touching every dirty cauldron in the dungeon.

The piglets squeaked with wild energy, dripping in mud and looking for somewhere to run. And James had just the place.

He led his parade of piglets through the classroom, out the hallway, and opened up the door across the way where Severus and Evans had gone to practice their potion-making. The pigs stormed into the room with excited squeals which only intensified by Lily’s and Severus’ screaming as the pigs swarmed them.

“Sorry Evans,” shouted James over the sea of oinking, “you’re collateral damage here! My apologies for the smell, but I assume you’re used to a bit of stench hanging out with Snivellus all day!”

Once all the pigs had crammed into the classroom, trapping Lily and Severus in the far corner surrounded by muddy hogs, James quickly closed the door and the rest of the boys helped drag over a heavy bookshelf to barricade the entryway.

They grinned at each other, quite pleased by their success, and made their way back to the scrubbing brushes and washcloths.

“Well boys,” said James, his hand finding his way back to his hair, “I don’t see any more dirty cauldrons, do you?”

The others shook their heads in glee.

“Then I guess it’s back to Gryffindor Tower for us!”

And with that, they raced out of the dungeons, snickering at the shouts of their classmates, overpowered by the squealing of dozens of potbelly pigs.

[yunohawkeye]

Donflamingo x Crocodile x fem!reader NSFW scenario of your choice, please? :D

Alright, here you go! I hope you’ll like it :) And I hope I didn’t write the characters OOC :)

Thanks to @reneotomegirl for betareading again!

You watched with feigned interest as the red wine in your glass swayed from side to side, ignoring the hungry gaze from your lover as you took a sip.

A dark chuckle made you look up to the man on whose leg you were sitting, “I knew there was more to you than what meets the eye. Seems like there’s a reason you seduced not only one, but two samurai.”

Stifling a laugh, you licked over your lips, savoring the taste of the delicious wine, which you got from Doflamingo as a present, answering in a playful tone while shooting him a seductive look, “Otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here, darling.”

His smile spread as he leant backwards on the massive couch, “I agree. Just a tad less devious and you probably wouldn’t be sitting here.”

You let out a huff before taking another sip from your glass, looking up at him, “Then we just have to wait until he arrives.”

“The letter came from you. I doubt he’ll let us wait long.”

Some time later the door sprung open, disrupting the conversation between you and the samurai and revealing Crocodile slightly sweaty and out of breath, shooting a snarl the taller man’s way, “You know, if you invite me to your place you might tell your guards to let me pass so I won’t have to decorate the floor with their insides.”

The smile on Doflamingo’s face widened as he opened his arms, “But if I’d do that, where’d be all the fun?”

Crocodile’s frown deepened for a moment before his attention was drawn to you, calling out to him, “You seem tired. Why don’t you come here?”

Your outstretched arm paired with the warm expression on your face made all the negative feelings disappear. The way you invited him, a silent promise to protect him, to take care of him. It made him feel safe and content while Doflamingo did nothing other than watch the smaller man make his way over to you, still seated on his lap, taking another big sip from his wineglass before putting it away.

Due to the height you were sitting at, Crocodile was only slightly taller than your sitting form, giving you enough opportunity to cup his cheek in your hand and press a kiss to his lips, short and sweet. The heat in his eyes was unmistakably your doing, the letter you sent containing enough descriptions to visualize it clearly.

“Do you really want to do this?”

The worry in your voice was clear but his cocky smirk was already enough to answer you, “Do you really think I’d be here if I didn’t?”

Your smile turned into one of mischief as you playfully replied, “Then let’s hope you’re ready for this”, before tugging him down harshly by his shirt and pressing your lips to his.

With a smirk on his lips Doflamingo carefully took the glass out of your hand and placed it next to his, placing his other hand on your hip, caressing it lightly while his usual grin spread further, enjoying the show.

In the meantime you used your now free hand to move it over the still clothed chest of the smaller samurai while the other wandered from his cheek to the back of his head, tugging on his hair harshly to pull him back, both of you breathing hard. A smile spread over your face at the image of Crocodile in front of you, cheeks lightly blushing, panting and with his hair disheveled. It truly was a sight to behold.

But you didn’t want to make Doffy wait too long, as he wasn’t known for his patience. So you let go of the man in front of you, tracing a finger down the side of his face, over his lips, tugging slightly in the progress.

Looking him directly in the eyes, you ordered in a stern tone of voice, “Get rid of your clothes.”

He blinked a few times, gaze wandering up to the other man who was still very much amused with the display before him, head propped up with one arm and grin still prominent on his face.

Crocodile looked at you again and was met with a mix of desire and encouragement, making his worries go away. He sometimes was wary that you had that much power over him but one look at you and suddenly it didn’t feel like a big deal anymore. 

Without thinking further about it he started to undress, leaving him completely naked in front of you. He even took off his hook, exposing the stump where once had been a hand. The sight of him made you switch positions as Doflamingo’s bulge started to grow under you, leaving you now sitting between his legs, leaning against his now more sensitive part.

You looked the man in front of you up and down, feeling your own arousal growing and you were glad you came prepared, with no underwear under your dress as you ordered him, “Kneel.”

Crocodile visibly swallowed, his internal conflict clear on his face and his hesitation fighting with his desire. Your smile softened, giving him the encouragement he needed as he knelt down in front of you.

No words were needed as you opened your legs, his eyes fixated on your womanhood, hunger prominent in his eyes. Another look at you, which was answered with a nod and his face was buried between your thighs, hands on your hips while he was licking you up and down with fervent strokes, causing moans and pants to slip from your mouth as you closed your eyes to further relish the feeling.

Almost completely lost in pleasure already, you didn’t notice that the man behind you started to move, startling you for a moment. Doflamingo unfolded himself from his position and stood up.

As Crocodile left his position between your legs to see what was going on, his head was shoved back down again by the other man, causing him to groan between your legs.

“Do what you’re supposed to do. Don’t get distracted.”

He didn’t even try to hide the sadism in his voice as he walked around further until he was standing behind the kneeling man. Squatting down, Doffy let his fingers travel down the other samurai's spine, causing goosebumps to spread on Crocodile’s back and his muscles to tense.

“Shhh. Don’t worry about what I’m going to do to you. Focus on her. That’s what you’re here for.”

You felt the shaky exhale against your folds as you buried your hands in his hair, disheveling it further. Not knowing what the taller man had planned, you kept your eyes open, wanting to see the show.

The next moment Crocodile let out a mix of a groan and a growl as his hands were taken from your hips and bound together on his back, white strings decorating his skin. Just one look at the familiar hand gesture the other man was doing and you knew Crocodile wouldn’t get out of there easily.

But even as he was teased relentlessly by the other man with featherlight and teasing touches, he never stopped his ministrations on you, having you nearing your edge already.

“Yes, this is where you belong, below me, below her. That’s all a failure of a pirate such as yourself could ever achieve.”

Another grunt left his mouth at Doflamingo’s words as you silenced the taller man with a sharp mention of his name, leaving him silently laughing to himself.

But he didn’t want to miss out on all the action happening, so he discarded his clothing as well before returning to his position behind the other man again. His smile was still prominent on his face as he took Crocodile’s hips harshly in his hands, hoisting them up and changing the angle of which he was pleasing you, causing you to moan and the other man to grunt in displeasure.

You tugged on the hair of the man between your legs harshly, crying out in pleasure as your orgasm hit you. Crocodile continued with broad, languid strokes of his tongue to let you ride out your high before the other man licked over his hole, causing him to moan. Shaking lightly at the overstimulation, you pulled him away from your core, both of you panting hard. 

But the man behind him didn’t slow down with his own ministrations, continuing to let his tongue play with Crocodile’s opening, hands groping his hips harshly, coaxing groans out of him.

Still coming down from your high you watched the expression on the face in front of you, clearly enjoying the attention on his back entrance. You put your hand on his cheek again, caressing the skin with your thumb as Crocodile looked up at you, vulnerable, pleasure-lidded eyes connecting with yours. It truly was a sight to behold. The normally so composed Sir Crocodile, completely vulnerable in front of you. 

As the other man now added a finger to his ministrations, his head fell against you, moaning out loudly in the process, clearly not used to being penetrated. 

Doflamingo looked up at you, still in a slight haze, and teased “Don’t tell me you’re already finished?”

You shrugged as you answered in a playful tone, “What can I say, he knows what he’s doing.”

Clearly not satisfied with the answer, a vein started to pop up on his forehead as he replied in a now more annoyed voice, “Oh really? Then let me show how fast I can work.”

To emphasize his words he added a second finger and curled them, coaxing a loud, involuntary moan out of the man in front of him. Crocodile’s whole body tensed before relaxing again, leaving him now also panting with his head lowered on the couch right before your core.

You let one of your hands thread through his bangs, trying to calm him down, to make him more comfortable with the foreign feeling. 

It stayed like this for a little while, Doflamingo preparing him, coaxing moans and groans out of the other man while you raised his head up on your lap, caressing him and calming him down.

With a simple look from the taller man and you knew he’d finished his preparations. You lifted Crocodile’s head up, gave him a quick kiss on the lips before asking, “You ready?”

A small noise of approval left his lips, you didn’t know if he was even able to say anything coherent at the moment so you left it at that. One last kiss on his nose and you stood up, finally getting rid of the last piece of clothing as you looked at Doflamingo standing as well. Only Crocodile was still kneeling on the floor, arms still bound behind him.

“Doffy, could you cut the strings?”

Even though he was reluctant, clearly displeased with giving even a resemblance of power back to the other samurai, he cut the strings, allowing the other man to stand up as well.

Trying to keep the relaxed atmosphere you immediately went to lay on the couch on your back, holding out your hand for Crocodile who seemed to remember what the original proposition was in the letter you sent. He crawled on top of you and looked you in the eyes, raising one eyebrow.

A small laugh escaped your lips as you answered the unvoiced question, “After all we’ve done so far, you’re really asking now?”

A low snarl left his mouth as he lined himself up with your entrance, looking as smug as the moment he came into this room.

Let’s see how long it’s going to stay that way.

A moment later he pushed himself inside of you, drawing moans out of both of you. It didn’t take long for you to get accustomed to his length and for him to move, but before he could speed up a hand grabbed his waist, holding him still. Doflamingo’s presence made itself noticeable again as he grabbed the other man’s neck harshly with his other hand, whispering dangerously in his ear, “Don’t forget we’re three players playing this game.”

Crocodile visibly gulped as he felt the taller man line himself up with his entrance as well. Not known for being gentle, Doflamingo pushed himself inside, not particularly fast but not slow either, only giving him some time to adjust as he was buried to the hilt. 

The other man buried his head in your chest, clearly overwhelmed with the sensations and you stroked his hair again, drawing little patterns across his shoulder blades, clearly signaling the man behind him to wait with the look in your eyes. Even though reluctantly, Doflamingo did as you asked, wondering to himself which events took place that he was listening to a mere woman like you. It would be so easy to get rid of you, but on the other hand he’d miss your snarky remarks, the way you drove him up a wall by acting sassy in front of his crew. And in the end, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

As Crocodile’s breathing returned to normal again and he lifted his head, the man behind him took it as a cue to immediately start his ministrations, pushing in and out at a rather fast pace, causing all three of you to moan.

The man in the middle started to move his hips in sync with the other, knees already shaking from the massive amount of stimulation. He wouldn’t be able to last long.

In the spur of the moment you took his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his and getting lost in the kiss. So lost you almost didn’t notice Doflamingo leaning forward to give you an uncharacteristic peck on the cheek before leaning his head against the other man’s neck.

As much as he’d tried to hide the arousal he felt as Crocodile was crumbling before him from only his fingers, his stamina did betray him.

It didn’t take long for the three of you to all be close to release and in your case, again.

Not able to handle the massive amount of stimulation, Crocodile came inside of you, hard, but Doffy didn’t slow down, chasing his own high, overstimulating the other man’s prostate, coaxing loud groans out of him. Crocodile was shaking, completely lost in the haze of pleasure as the man behind him continued his pace. But even through his haze he didn’t forget you, so, while he pulled out, he used the thumb of his hand to rub your clit, trying to bring you closer to your second orgasm of the night.

While he was still using his fingers to pleasure you, the man behind found his high, gripping the waist of the man in front of him so tightly, it was sure to leave bruises as he released inside. Doflamingo muffled his groans by biting into the other’s shoulder, relaxing after the last spurt of cum left his member, although not pulling out immediately.

Seeing clearly again, Crocodile’s movements were more controlled now and brought you to orgasm without much complication, your body coming undone in front of him as moans left your mouth.

All of you stayed in that position for a little while as you spoke up, “So, who’s on cleaning duty?”

[nekkyousagi]

Tea and Whispers

Drabble by Nekkyo Usagi  - Matsunaga Hisahide and Lady Soma

"Oh no, this will not do at all." Lady Soma huffed to herself, as she sorted through her collection of tea ceremony implements. "It has to be just right!" The occasion fast approaching required nothing but the finest Soma clan had to offer. Of course, to the outside eye the plan was merely a small and private meeting, a simple tea ceremony between close associates. But to Lady Soma, it was more than that. Even the most subtle of meetings brought with it many areas of expertise one could communicate. Such was the way of strategy in these times. But unlike the not so hidden drama and subterfuge of the court scene, this meeting was different.

Of course, it would not be the first time she had kept company with Matsunaga Hisahide. They had often come together in discussions over tea ceremony, herbal remedies, tonics and antiquities from across the sea, political intrigue, stories from the shogun's court, and exchanging almost competitive remarks over their two respective sons.  

Lady Soma fussed and picked through her sets of chado, striving to select the perfect pieces for seasonality and appropriateness, in hopes to impress this man so versed in the arts. There was a level of caution to be aware of along the selection process. She did not wish to appear as if she were trying too hard to impress. That would be embarrassing. As the day waned, and late afternoon approached, Lady Soma was finally finished with the needed preparations and awaited the arrival of the Lord of Yamato province.

"My my, Lady Soma, you have really outdone yourself. These implements are exquisite. You flatter an old hermit."

Lady Soma smiled gently, breaking from her poise for a moment, as she mixed the fragrant tea power into a gentle froth. "Mere trinkets compared to your splendid collection, Lord Hisahide." Lady Soma replied, handing him the tea bowl. "I am honored by your compliments."

Matsunaga paused, examining the colors and unique glazing of the tea bowl, a sharp eyebrow raised slightly in interest. Though simple in its design and shape, the color of the vessel intrigued him, a soft cool green, so like the storm frothed seas of Soma's coastlines. It brought a sense of calm and reflection to the senses. "Unique," Matsunaga mused, as he sipped with reverence. "An unusual pattern. I am curious to know it's origin."

Lady Soma straightened, glowing with pride. "If I may be so bold, my lord, you will not find this style of chado anywhere but within Soma clan. It was made with the soils of our land and sculpted with the hands of our own artisans."

"Is that so?" The lord of Yamato glanced at the vessel once more with curiosity, before sipping the last of its contents. "A fine cup it makes, my lady. Though I must say, it is quite a bold move for your small clan to invest in such a craft."

"You underestimate Soma clan, my lord. It is true that we are well known for our fine horses. But we must keep with the changing times. Perhaps there are days ahead when men will make war with tea and words instead of spears and swords?"

Matsunaga chuckled at that. "The war of tea has been raging for a thousand years. You are wise to invest in it. Perhaps these vessels will serve as messengers to those after us, the beauty and struggles of this era captured for all time." Matsunaga admired the tea bowl once more before placing it down before Lady Soma. He smiled knowingly. "Though not born of the Soma, I do admire your pride in it."

"Of course, my dear son Yoshitane is my greatest pride. I wish for nothing more than his success as clan leader."

"No doubt."

The tea ritual having been completed, Lady Soma relaxed her shoulders, easing the slight tension put there by her concentration while performing the ceremony. Though she had done it many times, being under the heavy, dark gaze of Matsunaga Hisahide, a man who could rival Sen no Rikyu in his knowledge of tea ceremony, felt intimidating. She could feel his hawk gold eyes counting every move, every turn of the hand, but she was determined to impress. Assuming she had performed admirably, judging by his relaxed tone, Lady Soma eased into the more casual conversing she'd been hoping for. Though their relationship had been distant and professional for the most part, she truly did admire him and, when not under scrutiny over etiquette, found his company...familiar.

"I must say, your generously instructing my dear Yoshitane in the way of tea has been indispensable." Lady Soma's eyes softened at the thought of her son. "He has gained much respect because of it, and for this I am grateful to you, Lord Hisahide."

"He has proven to be a...dedicated pupil. Both of our sons still have much to learn." Matsunaga replied, a tired expression crossing his countenance for a moment.

"So it would seem," Lady Soma gently put the tea implements to the side, and slid across the floor closing the distance between them slightly, though they were already in close proximity within the walls of a modest tea room. Soma clan did not have the opulence of the courts nor of Matsunaga's own house, but it was beautiful in its simplicity, and suitable for private meetings. "You know, dear Hisamichi did come to visit with my son Yoshitane, the other day. They rode horses together, practiced calligraphy and engaged in some sparring. It was so refreshing to see them getting along so well!" "Indeed?" Matsunaga replied. "I am pleased as well that Hisamichi has found such an admirable companion as the Lord of Soma."

Lady Soma coyly hid her smile behind her sleeve as she spoke. "You should have seen them, the way they kept company! Why, you would almost think they were brothers! Oho! Should we not be good parents and...get along better, as well?"

Keeping her eyes low, Lady Soma spoke softly, a sweetness in her voice, as she eyed the Lord of Yamato closely, her flirtatious nature suddenly getting the better of her. Lady Soma's dark eyes followed the lines and folds of his dark silk kimono, the way the sleeves lay over the curve of his strong arms and broad shoulders, how the collar hugged greedily against his the back of his neck, the sheen in his black oiled hair. Lord Matsunaga was a sight to behold, she had to admit. And in this close setting, she could feel the heat rise up the back of her neck, and her heart fluttered. But no, this was merely a meeting. It could lead to closer ties with the Matsunaga clan, who were in good favor with the Shogun's court. Ties to the shogun could provide benevolence for the Soma. She had to think of her clan's future...her son's future...not her own.

Her wandering eyes had not gone unnoticed and she suddenly found herself captured within his gaze. Eyes like molten gold, Matsunaga Hisahide regarded her with amusement. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the color of them burning in the dark, not unlike beast or a dragon. But behind that glow, she could see the sadness of a man who had loved and lost in the past, who suffered in silence, hiding his sorrows behind gold and jewels, fire and smoke.

“Ho...“ He smiled, the flames in his eyes dancing. "...an interesting proposal, Lady Soma."

A hard thump in her chest shook her whole body at that word, and Lady Soma fumbled to compose herself. "O-oh! Yes, well, ah...I-It is pleasant to be in the company of one who understands the arts and civility as well as you do. So many these days are more concerned with waving a sword around, they forget the importance of tradition and good character. We must ensure that our children inherit these qualities...it is our duty as parents, don't you agree?"

"Why yes. Desirable qualities honed over a lifetime." Matsunaga noticed her trying to evade his gaze now that she had caught it. A fine game to play. He leaned closer, admiring the intricate patterns of her kimono and its intricate seasonal patterns, the smoothness of her soft coral hair draping over small shoulders. The scent of incense permeated from him, cedarwood and pine, and her heart thundered in her chest as his frame neared, almost touching shoulders, his shadow casting over her. "Dignity...astuteness...benevolence....such attractive virtues are rare and precious commodities. Their value is without measure."

"You are now a collector of virtues as well as tangible treasures, Lord Hisahide?"

Matsunaga grinned. "One can gather all the treasure in the world, and still possess no virtue. They are the most sought after riches of all."

"Noble words. You have changed for the better, Lord Hisahide."

"Ho...have I changed, Lady Soma?"

"You were once called a villain. Surely a man, now chasing after virtues rather than gold, has no need for such a title?"

Matsunaga leaned closer, bringing his hand up to her face, tucking the loose strands behind her ear. Lady Soma's heart leaped into her throat at the sudden closeness, and her fingers trembled. He looked into her eyes with a warmth she had never seen before, but the fire still lingered, smoldering like a candle in the dim light.

"Perhaps you should still be wary of this...villain. Who knows whether or not he may try to steal away your heart?"

Lady Soma fought for breath, and forced herself to shyly look away from the fire in his eyes. "M-my heart...?"

This was becoming absurd. A woman of her age and status should not even be having such a private meeting with the lord of another province. They were colleagues, simply acquaintances. Had her flirtatious words given him the wrong impression? "Oh no! What desire would there be for that? I am merely an old widow..."

"My dear Lady Soma," Matsunaga Hisahide chuckled low and sultry, a playful smokiness in his tone as he gently took her hand. "You already know how much I treasure...antiquity."

A flustered huff gave away Lady Soma's sudden loss of composure. Her face felt hot, flushed redder than winter Camilla flower, as she glanced toward the open windows and moved herself away from under his shadow.

"O-oh my, h-how late in the day it had become! Lord Hisahide, I dare say I have kept you in my company for far too long! Do forgive me." She busied herself with stacking the cups and tea utensils, trying to hide her nervousness with laughter.

Matsunaga smiled at her jittery voice as she fought to regain her poise. "Do not be so concerned, my lady. Only an empty castle full of trinkets await me."

"Have you forgotten dear Hisamichi? Surely, after all this time, would you not wish to take every opportunity to spend time with your dear son!"

"Oh, I have made much time for him. But if you insist, I shall take my leave" Matsunaga rose to his knees and gracefully bowed. "I thank you for your gracious hospitality."

Lady Soma bowed low in grateful reverence to the Lord of Yamato as he slid on his knees, crouched through the small tea house door, and exited the room. A wave of relief crashed over her, as she sat back onto her heels. Her heart still pounded loudly in her chest, and she smacked it with a hand to try and still it's thunder. The still fresh memory of those molten gold eyes permeated her thoughts. Not even her late lord husband had ever looked at her with such fire. Her breath fluttered like a young maiden. Unbelievable! Her habit of flirtatious and flattering speech had won her many strategic battles of words and wit but this time...How greatly she had miscalculated...

"Oh, Lady Soma...I seem to have forgotten one thing." Her body jolted as Matsunaga's voice echoed back into the tea house, though he remained outside. "That cosmetic serum you so graciously bequeathed to me, is simply marvelous. Your tonic, I dare say, it feels like a spark of youth has been returned to me. The bottle is quite close to becoming empty, I am afraid. Would you be so kind...?" "Oh, of course, Lord Hisahide. It would be my pleasure. I shall have another sent to you forthwith." "Most gracious. Though, I was hoping that you might deliver in person, Lady Soma. I do so enjoy our little talks." Another deep wash of red clothed her cheeks as Lady Soma bowed low within the secluded teahouse, her heart still thundering wildly, as Matsunaga Hisahide slowly walked away down the stone path.

A great yet...wonderful, miscalculation, indeed.

[mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl]

50 SHADES OF KWON JI YONG PT.19

Genre:Smut/Angst/Fluff

Rated: NC-17

Pairing: G-Dragon x Reader

Wordount: 6,507

Part.18 Part.19

Masterlist

Jiyong bursts through the wooden door of the boathouse and pauses to flick on some lights. Fluorescents ping and buzz in sequence as harsh white light floods the large wooden building. From my upside-down view, I can see an impressive motor launch in the dock floating gently on the dark water, but I only get a brief look before he’s carrying me up some wooden stairs to the room above. He pauses at the doorway and touches another switch – halogens this time, they are softer, on a dimmer – and we’re in an attic room with sloping ceilings. It’s decorated with a nautical New England theme: navy blues and creams with a dash of red. The furnishings are sparse, just a couple of couches are all I can see.

Jiyong sets me on my feet on the wooden floor. I don’t have time to examine my surroundings – my eyes can’t leave him. I am mesmerized… watching him like one would watch a rare and dangerous predator, waiting for him to strike. His breathing is harsh but then he’s just carried me across the lawn and up a flight of stairs. Brown eyes blaze with anger, need, and pure unadulterated lust. Holy shit. I could spontaneously combust from his look alone. “Please don’t hit me,” I whisper, pleading. His brow furrows, his eyes widening. He blinks twice. “I don’t want you to spank me, not here, not now. Please don’t.” His mouth drops open slightly in surprise, and beyond brave, I tentatively reach up and run my fingers down his cheek, along the edge of his sideburn, to the stubble on his chin. It’s a curious mixture of soft and prickly. Slowly closing his eyes, he leans his face into my touch, and his breath hitches in his throat. Reaching up with my other hand, I run my fingers into his hair. I love his hair. His soft moan is barely audible, and when he opens his eyes, his look is – wary, like he doesn’t understand what I’m doing. Stepping forward so I am flush against him, I pull gently on his hair, bringing his mouth down to mine, and I kiss him, forcing my tongue between his lips and into his mouth. He groans, and his arms embrace me, pulling me to him. His hands find their way into my hair, and he kisses me back, hard and possessive. His tongue and my tongue twist and turn together, consuming each other. He tastes divine. He pulls back suddenly, our collective breathing ragged and mingling. My hands drop to his arms and he glares down at me. “What are you doing to me?” he whispers confused. “Kissing you.” “You said no.” “What?” No to what? “At the dinner table, with your legs.” Oh… that’s what this is all about. “But we were at your parents’ dining table.” I stare up at him, completely bewildered. “No one’s ever said no to me before. And it’s so – hot.” His eyes widen slightly, filled with wonder and lust. It’s a heady mix. I swallow instinctively. His hand moves down to my behind. He pulls me sharply against him, and I can feel his erection. Oh my… “You’re mad and turned on because I said no?” I breathe, astonished. “I’m mad because you never mentioned Georgia to me. I’m mad because you went drinking with that guy who tried to seduce you when you were drunk and who left you when you were ill with an almost complete stranger. What kind of friend does that? And I’m mad and aroused because you closed your legs on me.” His eyes glitter dangerously, and he’s slowly inching up the hem of my dress. “I want you, and I want you now. And if you’re not going to let me spank you – which you deserve – I’m going to fuck you on the couch this minute, quickly, for my pleasure, not yours.” My dress is now barely covering my naked behind. He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. I suppress my moan. “This is mine,” he whispers aggressively. “All mine. Do you understand?” He eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning. “Yes, yours,” I breathe as my desire, hot and heavy, surges through my bloodstream, affecting… everything. My nerve endings, my breathing, my heart is pounding, trying to leave my chest, the blood thrumming in my ears. Abruptly, he moves, doing several things at once. Withdrawing his fingers, leaving me wanting, unzipping his fly, and pushing me down onto the couch so he’s lying on top of me. “Hands on your head,” he commands through gritted teeth as he kneels up, forcing my legs wider, and reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. He takes out a foil packet, gazing down at me, his expression dark, before shrugging off his jacket so it falls to the floor. He rolls the condom down over his impressive length. I place my hands on my head, and I know it’s so I won’t touch him. I’m so turned on. I feel my hips moving already up to meet him – wanting him inside me, like this – rough and hard. Oh… the anticipation. “We don’t have long. This will be quick, and it’s for me, not you. Do you understand? Don’t come, or I will spank you,” he says through clenched teeth. Holy crap… how do I stop? With one swift thrust, he’s fully inside me. I groan loudly, gutturally, and revel in the fullness of his possession. He puts his hands on mine on top of my head, his elbows hold my arms out and down, and his legs pinion me. I am trapped. He’s everywhere, overwhelming me, almost suffocating. But it’s heavenly too, this is my power, this is what I do to him, and it’s a hedonistic, triumphant feeling. He moves quickly and furiously inside me, his breathing harsh at my ear, and my body responds, melting around him. I mustn’t come. No. But I’m meeting him thrust for thrust, a perfect counterpoint. Abruptly, and all too soon, he rams into me and stills as he finds his release, air hissing through his teeth. He relaxes momentarily, so I feel his entire, delicious weight on me. I’m not ready to let him go, my body craving relief, but he’s so heavy, and in that moment, I can’t push against him. All of a sudden, he withdraws, leaving me aching and hungry for more. He glares down at me. “Don’t touch yourself. I want you frustrated. That’s what you do to me by not talking to me, by denying me what’s mine.” His eyes blaze anew, angry again. I nod, panting. He stands and removes the condom, knotting it at the end, and puts it in his pants pocket. I gaze at him, my breathing still erratic, and involuntarily I squeeze my thighs together, trying to find some relief. Jiyong does up his fly and runs his hand through his hair as he reaches down to collect his jacket. He turns back to gaze down at me, his expression softer. “We’d better get back to the house.” I sit up, a little unsteadily, dazed. “Here. You may put these on.” From his inside pocket, he produces my panties. I don’t grin as I take them from him, but inside I know – I’ve taken a punishment fuck but gained a small victory over the panties. My inner goddess nods in agreement, a satisfied grin over her face – You didn’t have to ask for them. “JIYONG!” Mia shouts from the floor below. He turns and raises his eyebrows at me. “Just in time. Christ, she can be really irritating.” I scowl back at him, hastily restore my panties to their rightful place, and stand with as much dignity as I can muster in my just-fucked state. Quickly, I attempt to smooth my just-fucked hair. “Up here, Mia,” he calls down. “Well, Miss Y/L/N, I feel better for that – but I still want to spank you,” he says softly. “I don’t believe I deserve it Mr. Kwon, especially after tolerating your unprovoked attack.” “Unprovoked? You kissed me.” He tries his best to look wounded. I purse my lips. “It was attack as the best form of defense.” “Defense against what?” “You and your twitchy palm.” He cocks his head to one side and smiles at me as Mia comes clattering up the stairs. “But it was tolerable?” he asks softly. I flush. “Barely,” I whisper, but I can’t help my smirk. “Oh, there you are.” She beams at us. “I was showing Y/N around.” Jiyong holds his hand out to me, his brown eyes intense. I put my hand into his, and he gives it a soft squeeze. “Hyo-Rin and Taeyang are about to leave. Can you believe those two? They can’t keep their hands off each other.” Mia feigns disgust and looks from Jiyong to me. “What have you been doing in here?” Jeez, she’s forward. I blush scarlet. “Showing Y/N my rowing trophies,” Jiyong says without missing a beat, completely poker-faced. “Let’s go say goodbye to Hyo-Rin and Taeyang.” Rowing trophies? He pulls me gently in front of him, and as Mia turns to go, he swats my behind. I gasp in surprise. “I will do it again,Y/n, and soon,” he threatens quietly close to my ear, then he pulls me into an embrace, my back to his front, and kisses my hair. Back in the house, Hyo-Rin and Taeyang are making their farewells to Gi-ran and Mr. Kwon. Rin hugs me hard. “I need to speak to you about antagonizing Jiyong ,” I hiss quietly in her ear as she embraces me. “He needs antagonizing, then you can see what he’s really like. Be careful,Y/n – he’s so controlling,” she whispers. “See you later.” I KNOW WHAT HE’S REALLY LIKE – YOU DON’T! – I scream at her in my head. I’m fully aware that her actions come from a good place, but sometimes she just oversteps the mark, and right now so far that she’s into the neighboring state. I scowl at her, and she pokes her tongue out at me, making me smile unwillingly. Playful Rin is novel, must be Taeyang’s influence. We wave them off at the doorway, and Jiyong turns to me. “We should go too – you have interviews tomorrow.” Mia embraces me warmly as we say our goodbyes. “We never thought he’d find anyone!” she gushes. I flush, and Jiyong rolls his eyes again. I purse my lips. Why can he do that when I can’t? I want to roll my eyes back at him, but I do not dare, not after his threat in the boathouse. “Take care of yourself, Y/N, dear,” Gi-ran says kindly. Jiyong , embarrassed or frustrated by the lavish attention I’m receiving from the remaining Kwons, grabs my hand and pulls me to his side. “Let’s not frighten her away or spoil her with too much affection,” he grumbles. “ Jiyong  , stop teasing.” Gi-ran scolds him indulgently, her eyes glowing with love and affection for him. Somehow, I don’t think he’s teasing. I surreptitiously watch their interaction. It’s obvious Gi-ran adores him with a mother’s unconditional love. He bends and kisses her stiffly. “Mom,” he says, and there’s an undercurrent in his voice – reverence maybe? “Mr. Kwon– goodbye and thank you.” I hold out my hand to him, and he hugs me too! “Please, call me Hwan. I do hope we see you again, very soon, Y/N.” Our farewells said, Jiyong leads me to the car where Woo-Bin is waiting. Has he been waiting here the whole time? Woo-Bin opens my door, and I slide into the back of the Audi. I feel some of the tension leaving my shoulders. Jeez, what a day. I am exhausted, physically and emotionally. After a brief conversation with Taylor, Jiyong clambers into the car beside me. He turns to face me. “Well, it seems my family likes you, too,” he murmurs. Too? The depressing thought about how I came to be invited pops unbidden and very unwelcome into my head. Woo-Bin starts the car and heads away from the circle of light in the driveway to the darkness of the road. I gaze at Jiyong , and he’s staring at me. “What?” he asks, his voice quiet. I flounder momentarily. No – I’ll tell him. He’s always complaining that I don’t talk to him. “I think that you felt trapped into bringing me to meet your parents.” My voice is soft and hesitant. “If Taeyang hadn’t asked Rin, you’d never have asked me.” I can’t see his face in the dark, but he tilts his head, gaping at me. “Y/N, I’m delighted that you’ve met my parents. Why are you so filled with self-doubt? It never ceases to amaze me. You’re such a strong, self-contained young woman, but you have such negative thoughts about yourself. If I hadn’t wanted you to meet them, you wouldn’t be here. Is that how you were feeling the whole time you were there?” Oh! He wanted me there – and it’s a revelation. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable answering me as he would if he were hiding the truth. He seems genuinely pleased that I’m here… a warm glow spreads slowly through my veins. He shakes his head and reaches for my hand. I glance nervously at Woo-Bin. “Don’t worry about Woo-Bin. Talk to me.” I shrug. “Yes. I thought that. And another thing, I only mentioned Georgia because Rin was talking about Barbados – I haven’t made up my mind.” “Do you want to go and see your mother?” “Yes.” He looks oddly at me, like he’s having some internal struggle. “Can I come with you?” he asks eventually. What!? “Erm… I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” “I was hoping for a break from all this… intensity to try and think things through.” He stares at me. “I’m too intense?” I burst out laughing. “That’s putting it mildly!” In the light of the passing street lamps, I see his lips quirk up. “Are you laughing at me, Miss Y/L/N?” “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Kwon,” I reply with mock seriousness. “I think you dare, and I think you do laugh at me, frequently.” “You are quite funny.” “Funny?” “Oh yes.” “Funny peculiar or funny ha ha?” “Oh… a lot of one and some of the other.” “Which way round?” “I’ll leave you to figure that out.” “I’m not sure if I can figure anything out around you,Y/N,” he says sardonically, and then continues quietly, “What do you need to think about in Georgia?” “Us,” I whisper. He stares at me, impassive. “You said you’d try,” he murmurs. “I know.” “Are you having second thoughts?” “Possibly.” He shifts as if uncomfortable. “Why?” Holy crap. How did this suddenly become such an intense and meaningful conversation? It’s been sprung on me, like an exam that I’m not prepared for. What do I say? Because I think I love you, and you just see me as a toy. Because I can’t touch you, because I’m too frightened to show you any affection in case you flinch or tell me off or worse – beat me? What can I say? I stare momentarily out of the window. The car is heading back across the bridge. We are both shrouded in darkness, masking our thoughts and feelings, but we don’t need the night for that. “Why, Y/N?” Jiyong presses me for an answer. I shrug, trapped. I don’t want to lose him. In spite of all his demands, his need to control, his scary vices. I have never felt as alive as I do now. It’s a thrill to be sitting here beside him. He’s so unpredictable, sexy, smart, and funny. But his moods… oh – and he wants to hurt me. He says he’ll think about my reservations, but it still scares me. I close my eyes. What can I say? Deep down I would just like more, more affection, more playful Jiyong, more… love. He squeezes my hand. “Talk to me, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you. This last week… ” He trails off. We’re coming near to the end of the bridge, and the road is once more bathed in the neon light of the street lamps so his face is intermittently in the light and the dark. And it’s such a fitting metaphor. This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero – a brave shining white knight, or the dark knight as he said. He’s not a hero, he’s a man with serious, deep emotional flaws, and he’s dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide him into the light? “I still want more,” I whisper. “I know,” he says. “I’ll try.” I blink up at him, and he relinquishes my hand and pulls at my chin, releasing my trapped lip. “For you, Y/N, I will try.” He’s radiating sincerity. And that’s my cue. I unbuckle my seatbelt, reach across, and clamber into his lap, taking him completely by surprise. Wrapping my arms around his head, I kiss him, long and hard, and in a nanosecond, he’s responding. “Stay with me, tonight,” he breathes. “If you go away, I won’t see you all week. Please.” “Yes,” I acquiesce. “And I’ll try too. I’ll sign your contract.” And it’s a spur of the moment decision. He gazes down at me. “Sign after Georgia. Think about it. Think about it hard, baby.” “I will.” And we sit in silence for a mile or two. “You really should wear your seatbelt,” Jiyong whispers disapprovingly into my hair, but he makes no move to shift me from his lap. I nuzzle up against him, eyes closed, my nose at his throat, drinking in his sexy Jiyong-and-spiced-musky-body-wash fragrance, my head on his shoulder. I let my mind drift, and I allow myself to fantasize that he loves me. Oh, and it’s so real, tangible almost, and a small part of my nasty harpy self-conscious acts completely out of character and dares to hope. I’m careful not to touch his chest but just snuggle in his arms as he holds me tightly. All too soon, I’m torn from my impossible daydream. “We’re home,” Jiyong murmurs, and it’s such a tantalizing sentence, full of so much potential. Home, with Jiyong . Except his apartment is an art gallery, not a home. Woo-Bin opens the door for us, and I thank him shyly, aware that he’s been within earshot of our conversation, but his kind smile is reassuring and gives nothing away. Once out of the car, Jiyong assesses me critically. Oh no… what have I done now? “Why don’t you have a jacket?” he frowns as he shrugs out of his and drapes it over my shoulders. Relief washes through me. “It’s in my new car,” I reply sleepily, yawning. He smirks at me. “Tired, Miss Y/L/N?” “Yes, Mr. Kwon” I feel bashful under his teasing scrutiny. Nevertheless I feel an explanation is in order, “I’ve been prevailed upon in ways I never thought possible today.” “Well, if you’re really unlucky, I may prevail upon you some more,” he promises as he takes my hand and leads me into the building. Holy Shit… Again?! I gaze up at him in the elevator. I have assumed he’d like me to sleep with him, and then I remember that he doesn’t sleep with anyone, although he has with me a few times. I frown, and abruptly his gaze darkens. He reaches up and grasps my chin, freeing my lip from teeth. “One day I will fuck you in this elevator, Y/N, but right now you’re tired – so I think we should stick to a bed.” Bending down, he clamps his teeth around my lower lip and pulls gently. I melt against him, and my breathing stops as my insides unfurl with longing. I reciprocate, fastening my teeth over his top lip, teasing him, and he groans. When the elevator doors open, he grabs my hand and tugs me into the foyer, through the double doors, and into the hallway. “Do you need a drink or anything?” “No.” “Good. Let’s go to bed.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “You’re going to settle for plain old vanilla?” He cocks his head to one side. “Nothing plain or old about vanilla – it’s a very intriguing flavor,” he breathes. “Since when?” “Since last Saturday. Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?” My inner goddess pops her head above the parapet. “Oh no. I’ve had enough exotic for one day.” My inner goddess pouts at me, failing miserably to hide her disappointment. “Sure? We cater for all tastes here – at least thirty-one flavors.” He grins at me lasciviously. “I’ve noticed,” I reply dryly. He shakes his head. “Come on, Miss Y/L/N, you have a big day tomorrow. Sooner you’re in bed, sooner you’ll be fucked, and sooner you can sleep.” “Mr. Kwon, you are a born romantic.” “Miss Y/L/N, you have a smart mouth. I may have to subdue it some way. Come.” He leads me down the hallway into his bedroom and kicks the door closed. “Hands in the air,” he commands. I oblige, and in one breathtakingly swift move, he removes my dress like a magician, grasping it at the hem and pulling it smoothly and fleetly over my head. “Ta Da!” he says playfully. I giggle and applaud politely. He bows gracefully grinning. How can I resist him when he’s like this? He places my dress on the lone chair beside his chest of drawers. “And for your next trick?” I prompt, teasing. “Oh my dear, Miss Y/l/n. Get into my bed,” he growls. “And I’ll show you.” “Do you think that for once I should play hard to get?” I ask coquettishly. His eyes widen with surprise, and I see a glimmer of excitement. “Well… the door’s closed. Not sure how you’re going to avoid me,” he says sardonically. “I think it’s a done deal.” “But I’m a good negotiator.” “So am I.” He stares down at me, but as he does, his expression changes, confusion washes over him, and the atmosphere in the room shifts abruptly, tensing. “Don’t you want to fuck?” he asks. “No,” I breathe. “Oh.” He frowns. Okay, here goes… deep breath. “I want you to make love to me.” He stills and stares at me blankly. His expression darkens. Oh shit, this doesn’t look good. Give him a minute! My subconscious snaps. “Y/N, I… ” He runs his hands through his hair. Two hands. Jeez, he’s really bewildered. “I thought we did?” he says eventually. “I want to touch you.” He takes an involuntary step back from me, his expression for a moment fearful, and then he reins it in. “Please,” I whisper. He recovers himself. “Oh, no Miss Y/L/N, you’ve had enough concessions from me this evening. And I’m saying no.” “No?” “No.” Oh… I can’t argue with that… can I? “Look, you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” he says, watching me carefully. “So touching is a hard limit for you?” “Yes. This is old news.” “Please tell me why.” “Oh, Y/N please. Just drop it for now,” he mutters exasperated. “It’s important to me.” Again he runs both hands through his hair, and he utters an oath beneath his breath. Turning on his heel, he heads for the chest of drawers, pulls out a t-shirt, and throws it at me. I catch it, bemused. “Put that on and get into bed,” he snaps, irritated. I frown but decide to humor him. Turning my back, I quickly remove my bra, pulling the t-shirt on as hastily as I can to cover my nakedness. I leave my panties on, I haven’t worn them for most of the evening. “I need the bathroom.” My voice is a whisper. He frowns, bemused. “Now you’re asking permission?” “Err… no.” “Y/N, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement, you don’t need my permission to use it.” He cannot hide his irritation. He shrugs out of his shirt, and I scoot into the bathroom. I stare at myself in the over-large mirror, shocked that I still look the same. After all that I’ve done today, it’s still the same ordinary girl gaping back at me. What did you expect – that you’d grow horns and a little pointy tail? My subconscious snaps at me. And what the hell are you doing? Touching is his hard limit. Too soon, you idiot, he needs to walk before he can run. My subconscious is furious, medusa-like in her anger, hair flying, her hands clenched around her face like Edvard Munch’s Scream. I ignore her, but she won’t climb back into her box. You are making him mad – think about all that’s he’s said, all he’s conceded. I scowl at my reflection. I need to be able to show him affection – then perhaps he can reciprocate. I shake my head resigned and grasp Jiyong’s toothbrush. My subconscious is right of course. I’m rushing him. He’s not ready and neither am I. We are balanced on the delicate see-saw, that is our strange arrangement – at different ends, vacillating, and it tips and sways between us. We both need to edge closer to the middle. I just hope neither of us falls off in our attempt to do so. This is all so quick. Maybe I need some distance. Georgia seems more appealing than ever. As I begin brushing my teeth, he knocks. “Come in,” I splutter through a mouthful of toothpaste. Jiyong stands in the doorway, his PJs hanging off his hips – in that way that makes every little cell in my body stand up and take notice. He’s bare-chested, and I drink him in like I’m crazed with thirst and he’s clear cool mountain spring water. He gazes at me impassively, then smirks and comes to stand beside me. Our eyes lock in the mirror, brown to blue. I finish with his toothbrush, rinse it off, and hand it to him, my look never leaving his. Wordlessly, he takes the toothbrush from me and puts it in his mouth. I smirk back at him, and his eyes are suddenly dancing with humor. “Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush.” His tone is gently mocking. “Thank you, Sir,” I smile sweetly, and I leave, heading back to bed. A few minutes later he joins me. “You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out,” he mutters petulantly. “Imagine if I said to you that you couldn’t touch me.” He clambers onto the bed and sits cross-legged. “Y/N, I’ve told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life – you don’t want that shit in your head. Why would you?” “Because I want to know you better.” “You know me well enough.” “How can you say that?” I struggle up onto my knees, facing him. He rolls his eyes at me, frustrated. “You’re rolling your eyes. Last time I did that, I ended up over your knee.” “Oh, I’d like to put you there again.” Inspiration hits me. “Tell me and you can.” “What?” “You heard me.” “You’re bargaining with me?” His voice resonates with astonished disbelief. I nod. Yes… this is the way. “Negotiating.” “It doesn’t work that way, Y/N.” “Okay. Tell me, and I’ll roll my eyes at you.” He laughs, and I get a rare glimpse of carefree Jiyong . I’ve not seen him for a while. He sobers. “Always so keen and eager for information.” His brown eyes blaze with speculation. After a moment, he gracefully climbs off the bed. “Don’t go away,” he says and exits the room. Trepidation lances through me, and I hug myself. What’s he doing? Does he have some evil plan? Crap. Suppose he returns with a cane, or some weird kinky implement? Holy shit, what will I do then? When he does return, he’s holding something small in his hands. I can’t see what it is, and I’m burning with curiosity. “When’s your first interview tomorrow?” he asks softly. “Two.” A slow wicked grin spreads across his face. “Good.” And before my eyes, he subtly changes. He’s harder, intractable... hot. This is Dominant Jiyong. “Get off the bed. Stand over here.” He points to beside the bed, and I scramble up and off in double-quick time. He stares intently down at me, his eyes glittering with promise. “Trust me?” he asks softly. I nod. He holds out his hand, and in his palm are two round, shiny, silver balls, linked with a thick black thread. “These are new,” he says emphatically. I look questioningly up at him. “I am going to put these inside you, and then I’m going to spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine.” He pauses, gauging my wide-eyed reaction. Inside me! I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. My inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils. “Then we’ll fuck, and if you’re still awake, I’ll impart some information about my formative years. Agreed?” He’s asking my permission! Breathlessly, I nod. I’m incapable of speech. “Good girl. Open your mouth.” Mouth? “Wider.” Very gently, he puts the balls in my mouth. “They need lubrication. Suck,” he orders, his voice soft. The balls are cold, smooth, surprisingly heavy, and metallic tasting. My dry mouth pools with saliva as my tongue explores the unfamiliar objects. Jiyong’s brown gaze does not leave mine. Holy hell, this is turning me on. I squirm slightly. “Keep still, Y/N,” he warns. “Stop.” He tugs them from my mouth. Moving toward the bed, he throws the duvet aside and sits down on the edge. “Come here.” I stand in front of him. “Now turn round, bend down, and grasp your ankles.” I blink at him, and his expression darkens. “Don’t hesitate,” he admonishes me softly, an undercurrent in his voice, and he pops the balls in his mouth. Fuck, this is sexier than the toothbrush. I follow his orders immediately. Jeez, can I touch my ankles? I find I can, with ease. The t-shirt slides up my back, exposing my behind. Thank heavens I have retained my panties, but I suspect I won’t for long. He places his hand reverently on my backside and very softly caresses it with his whole hand. With my eyes open, I can see his legs through mine, nothing else. I close my eyes tightly as he gently moves my panties to the side and slowly runs his finger up and down my sex. My body braces itself in a heady mix of wild anticipation and arousal. He slides one finger inside me, and he circles it deliciously slowly. Oh, it feels good. I moan. His breathing halts, and I hear him gasp as he repeats the motion. He withdraws his finger and very slowly inserts the objects, one slow, delicious ball at a time. Oh my. They’re body temperature, warmed by our collective mouths. It’s a curious feeling. Once they’re inside me, I can’t really feel them – but then again I know they’re there. He straightens my panties and leans forward, and his lips softly kiss my behind. “Stand up,” he orders, and shakily I get to my feet. Oh! Now I can feel them… sort of. He grasps my hips to steady me while I re-establish my equilibrium. “You okay?” he asks, his voice stern. “Yes.” My answer is feather soft. “Turn round.” I turn and face him. The balls pull downward and involuntarily I clench around them. The feeling startles me but not in a bad way. “How does that feel?” he asks. “Strange.” “Strange good or strange bad?” “Strange good,” I confess, blushing. “Good.” There’s a trace of humor lurking in his eyes. “I want a glass of water. Go and fetch one for me please.” Oh. “And when you come back, I shall put you across my knee. Think about that, Y/N.” Water? He wants water – now – why? As I leave the bedroom, it becomes abundantly clear why he wants me to walk around – as I do, the balls weigh down inside me, massaging me internally. It’s such a weird feeling and not entirely unpleasant. In fact, my breathing accelerates as I stretch up for a glass from the kitchen cabinet, and I gasp. Oh my… I may have to keep these. They make me needy, needy for sex. He’s watching me carefully when I return. “Thank you,” he says as he takes the glass from me. Slowly, he takes a sip then places the glass on his bedside table. There’s a foil packet, ready and waiting, like me. And I know he’s doing this to build the anticipation. My heart has picked up a beat. He turns his bright brown gaze to mine. “Come. Stand beside me. Like last time.” I sidle up to him, my blood thrumming through my body, and this time… I’m excited. Aroused. “Ask me,” he says softly. I frown. Ask him what? “Ask me,” his voice is slightly harder. What? How was your water? What does he want? “Ask me, Y/N. I won’t say it again.” And there’s such a threat implicit in his words, and it dawns on me. He wants me to ask him to spank me. Holy shit. He’s looking at me expectantly, his eyes growing colder. Shit. “Spank me, please… Sir,” I whisper. He closes his eyes momentarily, savoring my words. Reaching up, he grasps my left hand and he tugs me over his knees. I fall instantly, and he steadies me as I land in his lap. My heart is in my mouth as his hand gently strokes my behind. I’m angled across his lap again so that my torso rests on the bed beside him. This time he doesn’t throw his leg over mine, but smoothes my hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. Once he’s done, he clasps my hair at the nape to hold me in place. He tugs gently and my head shifts back. “I want to see your face while I spank you, Y/N,” he murmurs, all the while softly rubbing my backside. His hand moves down between the cheeks of my behind, and he pushes against my sex, and the full feeling is… I moan. Oh, the sensation is exquisite. “This is for pleasure, Anastasia, mine and yours,” he whispers softly. He lifts his hand and brings it down in a resounding slap against the junction of my thighs, my behind, and my sex. The balls are forced forward inside me, and I’m lost in a quagmire of sensation. The stinging across my behind, the fullness of the balls inside me, and the fact that he’s holding me down. I screw my face up as my faculties attempt to absorb all these foreign feelings. I note somewhere in my brain that he’s not smacked me as hard as last time. He caresses my backside again, trailing his palm across my skin and over my underwear. Why’s he not removed my panties? Then his palm disappears, and he brings it down again. I groan as the sensation spreads. He starts a pattern: left to right and then down. The down ones are the best. Everything moving forward, inside me… and in between each smack he caresses me, kneads me – so I am massaged inside and out. It’s such a stimulating, erotic feeling, and for some reason, because this is on my terms, I don’t mind the pain. It’s not painful as such – well it is, but not unbearable. It’s somehow manageable, and yes pleasurable… even. I groan. Yes, I can do this. He pauses as he slowly peels my panties down my legs. I writhe on his legs, not because I want to escape the blows, but I want… more, release, something. His touch against my sensitized skin is all sensuous tingle. It’s overwhelming, and he starts again. A few soft slaps then building up, left to right and down. Oh, the downs, I groan. “Good girl, Y/N,” he groans, and his breathing is ragged. He spanks me twice more, and then he pulls at the small threads attached to the balls and jerks them out of me suddenly. I almost climax – the feeling is out of this world. Moving swiftly, he gently turns me over. I hear rather see the rip of the foil packet, and then he’s lying beside me. He seizes my hands, hoists them over my head, and eases himself onto me, into me, sliding slowly, filling me where the silver globes have been. I groan loudly. “Oh, baby,” he whispers as he moves back, forward, a slow sensual tempo, savoring me, feeling me. It is the most gentle he has ever been, and it takes no time at all for me to fall over the edge, spiraling into a delicious, violent, exhausting, orgasm. As I clench around him, it ignites his release, and he slides into me, stilling, gasping out my name in desperate wonder. “Y/N!” He’s silent and panting on top of me, his hands still entwined in mine above my head. Finally, he leans back and stares down at me. “I enjoyed that,” he whispers, and then kisses me sweetly. He doesn’t linger for more sweet kisses, but rises, covers me with the duvet, and disappears into the bathroom. On his return he’s carrying a bottle of white lotion. He sits beside me on the bed. “Roll over,” he orders, and begrudgingly I move on to my front. Honestly, all this fuss. I feel very sleepy. “Your ass is a glorious color,” he says approvingly, and he tenderly massages the cooling lotion into my pink behind. “Spill the beans, Kwon,” I yawn. “Miss Y/L/N, you know how to ruin a moment.” “We had a deal.” “How do you feel?” “Short changed.” He sighs, slides in beside me, and pulls me into his arms. Careful not to touch my stinging behind, we are spooning again. He kisses me very softly beside my ear. “The woman who brought me into this world was a crack-whore, Y/N. Go to sleep.” Holy fuck… what does that mean? “Was?” “She’s dead.” “How long?” He sighs. “She died when I was four. I don’t really remember her. Hwan has given me some details. I only remember certain things. Please go to sleep.” “Goodnight, Jiyong .” “Goodnight, Y/N.” And I slip into a dazed and exhausted sleep, dreaming of a four-year-old, Brown-eyed boy in a dark, scary, miserable place.

[dogtrainingscoop]

How did your dog react when you took them home for the first time?

Author: Vernon Mclean

We finally took the first step: we got our own puppy! "My first dog (and best friend) was Rex, a sweet, playful pup. I knew it would be labor intensive and a big obligation, but that “holy crap” feeling I had when I first picked him up was just a subtle hum of the screaming siren of uneasiness I’ve come to know a few moments after.

When we prepared his crate for him, my son tied his leash to the leg of a chair, he did not like it to sit still and tried to get up and run towards a ball or something, and the next thing TERRIFIED to find that the chair was CHASING HIM:)

How did your dog react when you took them home for the first time?

Anyway I’m including some photos of his first day,,,, Tanya Gorelova took these photos:)

After a long day, My Best, most gentle and patient dog I've ever met…

The Famous Chair...

The Famous Ball…..

Getting into trouble

Doing the right thing:)

Anyway, I’ve learned some things and also managed to put together a few important points to take note of….

If you are thinking of bringing a puppy into your home, you may have encountered these questions: how old should a puppy be when you pick it up and what will you do with it before it receives all vaccines against infectious diseases?

If you are buying a dog, do not take it before it is 8 weeks old

For starters, as a partial answer to the first question, clearly and loudly: if you are buying a dog, don’t let the breeder (in this case it should be written in quotes) force you to take the puppy home before he is 8 weeks old. And don't be fooled, so in the desire to get cheaper, take the dog from someone who just "punches" the dog and does not care at all about the welfare of these animals.

The calculation is very clear here:

When they are 4-5 weeks old, puppies become much more physically and financially demanding, so a person who sells dogs just for the sake of making money then eventually wants to get rid of increasingly demanding puppies.

However, puppies that are prematurely separated from their mother and the rest of the litter, as adult dogs, show much more (serious) behavioral problems than puppies that remain with their mother and siblings for at least 8 weeks and in a crucial period of socialization seen lasts up to 4 months of age) were properly socialized . This is shown by many researches conducted at world scientific institutions.

What if you decide to adopt an abandoned or discarded puppy?

If you have decided to adopt a dog from a shelter or save a puppy found abandoned and thrown on the road, it is a very commendable gesture and you should not be discouraged by not knowing how this puppy spent the earliest months of life, but you should definitely leave as soon as possible to some organized form of dog training (for example to some quality individual or group course).

Don't wait for a "suitable" moment because the right moment is exactly when you brought the dog home. The longer you wait, even if there are no behavioral problems at first, the harder it will be to solve the problems once they arise.

And what about vaccines?

You’ve probably heard from someone before (probably your vet) that a puppy should be in isolation from other dogs and the outside world until it receives all the vaccines against infectious canine diseases (i.e., by about 4-5 months of age).

You definitely need to be careful where you take your puppy, but it is by no means good to keep him in isolation from all living beings, all experiences and stimuli. Infectious canine diseases are often deadly and unfortunately are very common in some areas. But keep this in mind: your puppy will not receive all the vaccines until he is about 4 months old. If you wait until then, the opportunity to socialize your dog properly will already be missed.

And not only that: according to the American Veterinary Society for Animal Behavior (AVSAB), behavioral problems, not contagious canine diseases, are the leading cause of death in dogs under 3 years of age ! (This refers to the fact that in the U.S., more dogs are killed each year due to behavioral problems than are killed by infectious canine diseases). The same veterinary society recommends that dogs be introduced to new places, people and other dogs before receiving all vaccines against infectious canine diseases (ie, puppy owners are advised not to keep puppies in isolation from the outside world while receiving these vaccines).

What does all this actually mean for puppy owners?

It means you need to be careful where you take your puppy before he receives all the vaccines, but not that you need to keep him locked up in the house. For example, going to dog parks, pet stores, and other places where a lot of dogs come that we don’t know if they’re vaccinated and if they’re healthy is not a good idea. Instead, get your puppy used to driving with you in the car; introduce him to many children and adults; take him to hang out with friends who have healthy, vaccinated dogs and other pets accustomed to dogs; go with him to the mall (at a time when it is not crowded); walk with him around in your backyard; enter a course for puppies in a verified place that you know is safe for puppies, etc. But always make sure that all these experiences for your puppy are positive experiences. Proper socialization of a dog is a pleasant experience, not something that will traumatize him for the rest of his life.

Either way, don’t wait for the dog to cross the 16-week limit to start socializing, because you’re already very late by then. In the case of proper early socialization, time plays a key role. Also see more Interesting Articles: Here

Don’t make these 15 Mistakes with your New Puppy:

1. DON'T LET your puppy eat when he wants to

There is a very fine line between new puppies to make them feel comfortable at home with you and let them do whatever they want and get into bad habits and one of the main pitfalls to avoid this view concerns food.

Food and food are arguably the biggest motivators when it comes to dogs and can help you achieve everything from successful training to encouraging a shy dog out of its shell to help your puppy commit to you. . a coin to buy your puppy happiness is a big but also easy to make mistake!

Your puppy should have reliable feeding hours with his food divided into appropriate portions and the food should be measured for them just every day. You should also work on calculating how much fun your dog can have in a day - taking into account both the calories and the value of the reward.

Bribing your puppy with too many treatments or providing food wherever they ask will not only make your life more difficult, but it will also make your puppy worse.

2. Delay in training

You are probably already thinking about training your puppy and how it will work when you first bring it home - but training a dog is not like sending a child to school for the first time and is not something that has to start at a set time. and on a set date! The training should start from the first day your puppy comes home - not from picking them up in a class or field and performing them through exercises, but in terms of letting them know what they are and are not you are also allowed to correct your puppy to praise them appropriately as they begin to learn.

3. Do not spend enough time around other dogs

An astonishing number of new puppy owners may be reluctant to encourage their puppies to socialize with other dogs as much as they really should, believing the puppy is too small, too small, or the other dogs are too big and noisy and thus a potential danger to your puppy.

However, once your puppy pulls out the eighth after vaccinations, you should start taking precautionary measures to allow them to meet and communicate with other dogs at every possible opportunity and try to ensure that this is a good mix of different dogs that include many chances to meet strange dogs.

Puppies learn as much, if not more, from other dogs as they do from humans, and avoiding socializing is one of the biggest mistakes a new puppy owner can make.

4. Unintentionally allowing unreasonable fears

Because puppies are small, cute, and sensitive, they tend to trigger protective instincts in humans, which often translate into a desire to wrap them in cotton and protect them from the world! However, just as this approach is counterproductive when it comes to children - for example, if your child is playing on their knee, causing a lot of noise it can cause them to cry, minimizing and dealing with it, as there is no greater chance to encourage them to continue normally.

The same goes for puppies - if they are scared, shy or nervous, or something happens that makes them wary, do not push their shower with sympathy - this is the fastest way to amplify their fears and create a nervous adult. dog.

Instead, behave normally and this will reassure your puppy that there is nothing to fear and encourage them to continue normally.

5. Tell your puppy when they do not understand something

So go down in the morning to find that your puppy has made a mess on the floor… your instinctive reaction may be to tell them, but bite your tongue! First of all, if a young puppy is ruining things or fishing indoors, it may be due to a lack of understanding or because you have not met your needs in this regard - and also, your puppy has no idea what they were wrong if you told them after the incident.

Do not make a big fuss, but clear up immediately and see ways you can avoid the problem that will arise again in the future.

6. DO NOT leave the puppy home alone

Book a holiday for at least a week or two to ensure your puppy gets used to his new home. The puppy should initially be fed four times a day. A small dog also needs to potty train more often. Always take your puppy out after waking up, playing, eating and drinking.

7. DO NOT stretch the loneliness But must get used to it

Get your dog used to being alone during the first few weeks. For example, you can go to another room first. Exercise when the puppy is already tired and your pup would be calmer.

Leave your pup a treat, say "Wait!" and go away for a moment. Many times the treat will sooth him and your pup will go to sleep after eating. When you come back, go back to your normal chores. Most importantly, there is no big difference between the first arrival and the next day.

If the dog keeps making noise when alone, go play with him, go for a walk, do activity and repeat the exercise so many times that loneliness begins to disappear.

8. DO NOT think that learning to be tidy happens all at once

Few dogs learn to be tidy all at once. The dog cannot be managed in the event of an emergency when it happens, so it should not be penalized for peeing on the floor.

Do not pay too much attention to the mess, but rather clean it up and continue. The dog likes attention, whether it’s positive or negative. The dog also does not remember the booboo done an hour ago. It looks repentant because it reads its owner’s scornful behavior.

9. DO NOT put the dog on a leash immediately

The dog doesn’t immediately realize that while on the leash, it has to obediently paddle alongside its owner. Teach your dog to keep an eye on you and walk close to you first, only then turn your attention to the leash. Also teach the dog to walk past his companions and people without making a fuss. Other dogs are found in a safe place without a leash.

10. NOT allow the puppy to wean in your arms

Getting used to a person's bosom and to calm him down will make it easier in the future, for example, to visit a veterinarian. Teach your puppy that you can only get out of your arms when the rattle has stopped. When the puppy is calm in your arms, keep your grip gentle & comfortable. If the puppy is rattling, tighten the grip.

However, do not hurt your pup. Also don’t instantly let him down. Let your puppy down after he has been rattling for at least ten seconds. Often the puppy needs dozens of exercises to get it right.

11. DO NOT forget to investigate health issues on a timely manner

Once the dog is already at home, it is too late to start figuring out health / vaccine issues. Find out in advance what vaccines your dog needs to be given.

The dog is given the first vaccinations at three months of age and booster vaccinations one month after the first vaccinations. After a year, booster vaccinations will be given, followed by veterinary instructions.

12. DO NOT leave valuables in the open, visible & accessible to your new friend

Hide any items that your dog may break when raging. Also remove dangerous items, such as cords, that your dog should not chew on. Keep the environment safe for your dog.

13. DO NOT let your dog rage without limits

A dog needs to be set clear boundaries of what it’s allowed to do and what it’s not. Together agreed rules must be followed by all family members. If it is agreed that the dog is not allowed to jump on the couch, no one will let the dog jump on the couch.

The dog gets confused if one member of the family lets go and the other scolds. When speaking to a dog, one word must also be used. If one says "No!" and another “Stop!”, the dog will get confused.

14. DO NOT forget to teach good healing practices

If the dog bounces and rages when you arrive, you yourself have taught it how to greet you. If you don’t want your dog to jump against yourself, don’t give your dog attention.

Turn your back and look at the ceiling. When the dog behaves, notice the dog. It gradually learns that the bouncing & jumping is not worth it.

15. DO NOT write off expert help

Breeders often give good advice on how to train your dog. Experts from different dog breeds can be found, for example, on the websites of Kennel Club’s.

Also see more Interesting Articles: Here

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

Day Six: An Unlikely Partnership

Coming about a few days late is day 6 of my OC Kiss Week extravaganza. The theme for this one is “Intoxicated”, starring one of my newer OCs, Kavi Zifon, and @queenzabrak‘s Sethali Kuda  I thought it’d be amusing to see Seth interact with one of my Sith characters because Kavi is both chill and yest so intense on certain things. And kind of a jokester. I hope you like the story and how I portrayed your darling avocado agent (and wow, this ficlet got away from me in terms of length). XD

Sethali had very low tolerance for Sith these days and continued to grit her teeth hours after the Keeper gave her an assignment. She was suppose to meet an up and coming Sith star and be his bodyguard. Given to her past with psychotic or maniacal Sith Lords, the Keeper admitted he was reluctant to give her this mission because she would have her hands full with the Eagle. But since her new job insisted on having the best and he too would be hunting the Eagle and his network down, the Council decreed the two of them would work together. 

At least this no-good Sith suggested they get acquainted at a cantina. Meant he had some amount of taste.

Grumbling at her lack of luck, Sethali ordered another another cocktail--this time with peaches, pomegranate, and lime. Maybe she would get through this encounter a little tipsy. As she waited anxiously at the bar, she felt the presence of someone sitting next to her and as she inclined her head around to take a peek, she blinked in surprise. At her right was a Miraluka with flawless bronze skin and golden hair, a slim pair of shades covering his eyesockets. He cocked his head at her and smiled winsomely, revealing a marvelous set of dimples. His Adonis looks nearly knocked her over her chair and stole the wind from her. How in the blazes did she not see this man at all in Dromund Kaas?  

“Hello,” he nearly purred, his voice akin to velvet. “Do you know any good drinks to recommend?” 

She nodded and then mentally cursed, knowing full well he couldn’t see her movements. “Uh, yeah, all their cocktails are divine and their sangria or fruit wine isn’t half band either. Don’t know much about their strong spirits though--never tried them.” 

The Miraluka smiled again, just as beguiling and handsome as before. Why did this day have to be the day she was meeting a Sith?! “Thank you for the suggestions. I’ll try one of their sangrias then.” He flagged the bartender and asked for a white sangria, his lips still stretched out into full beam. Once his order was placed, he returned his attention back to you. “I hope you don’t mind if I drink with you.”

“Not at all,” she began, “but unfortunately, I’m suppose to meet up with someone here soon and talk business. And from what I hear, the Sith don’t like to be kept waiting.” 

The man arched one eyebrow at her comment, curiosity blooming across his tan, sculpted features. “A Sith, you say?”

“Yeah, and it bites.” Unable to stop herself, Sethali quaffed down more of her second cocktail as her new acquaintance (for lack of a better term) sipped on his sangria. “I just know I’ll be involved with another Sith who will try to electrocute me or fling me into the wall with the Force for ‘speaking up’. Are there any sane Sith in the Empire?”

“Perhaps,” replied the man, “but it depends who you ask. And oh, before I forget my manners, my name is Kavi.”

“Sethali,” she provided, hoping she’d see him again once her new Sith partner chased him off. “Seth, for short.”

Prior Kavi could open his mouth and respond, two goons, both robed and wearing hoods, approached them. Sethali tensed up, hand instinctively reaching for her knife strapped to her belt. Were these servants or apprentices of the Sith partner, coming to chew her out and hurt Kavi for “distracting her”? Whatever the reason, she was going cut off their fingers and more. She rose, prepared to confront them when Kavi held his hand up and shook his head, mouth whispering “no”. She frowned, wondering how she could sense them from so far away, unless his hearing was as sharp as a vine cat. 

“They’re not here for you. They’re hear for me.” he only explained as the two thugs soon stood right behind him. A dark look settled over his face and his grin became twisted, conniving even. “Why are you here, befouling this droll establishment with your stench? Don’t you two have better tasks to do, such as training? Or trying not to look so ghastly?”

The first one bristled. “You can’t even see and yet you call us ugly?!”

Kavi snorted. “I’m well attuned with the Force. It shows me many things and your unfortunate mug is one of them.”

“You’ll pay for killing our friend Maxsel!” growled the second one, drawing his lightsaber. “A slave like you isn’t fit to be Sith.” 

At this exchange, Sethali’s eyes widen, realization overtaking her viridian features. Kavi, this Miraluka standing before her...he was her assignment. He was the Sith she was suppose to guard and team up with. Was all this some sort of a ploy, a sick game he wanted to tease her and make her feel at ease?

“I don’t believe you,” she said lowly at Kavi, whose eyeless gaze continued to be rooted at her. “You knew who I was before you came here and decided to play with me.” The agent craved to toss her drink at him yet the thought the better of it. She definitely wasn’t going to waste a cocktail on the likes of him.

“How could I have known you were to be my bodyguard without sight?” he answered drily, gesturing to his shades. “I didn’t realize who you were until you said your name. Your aura, your presence was what drew me to you in the first place.”

Guilt about momentarily forgetting he was blind seeped through her but she didn’t have long to stew in it for one of Kavi’s foes, fed up with getting ignored, lunged forward with his lightsaber ignited and poised at Kavi’s head. Barely moving, Kavi flicked his wrist back and bolt of lighting rocketed out of his hand, hurtling the Sith apprentice into the opposite wall. The other enemy had Seth’s knife abruptly embedding in his chest and was now slowly choking on his own blood. Staring at the dying apprentice, the agent groaned. 

“I’m going to get punished for that, aren’t I?” she groused, motioning the barkeep for another drink.”

Kavi regarded her thoughtfully. “No, you won’t. Not on my watch.” The firmness in his tone was so jarring, especially since he seemed so jovial a few minutes ago. “Perhaps we should talk about our business in private.” 

Crossing her arms, she nodded. “Fine.”

They ended up not spending too much time on the mission at hand, much to Kavi’s amusement. Once the reveal of his identity betided, he expected Sethali to like him very little or not at all. She continued to be wary around him but after a couple of more drinks on both of their parts, she began to loosen up a little and in turn, so did he. He discovered she really relished fruity drinks and filled that bit of information for later. Perhaps after when their partnership was over he’d send her a gift. 

“What did that man mean when he called you a slave? Were you a slave once?” 

He was rather surprised she cared enough to ask. Maybe it was alcohol. Either way, he didn’t mind. His life of slavery was in the past now and he came so far from where he began. He wasn’t ashamed of his low status, it merely served to make him stronger. “Yes, I was, until, at a tender age, I displayed a magnificent amount of talent in the Force. Helps being a Miraluka too.” He chuckled, downing down his latest drink. “Yet some of my opponents don’t like the idea of being defeated by a former slave and are obsessed with reminding me about it. Their words, their petty insults do not hurt me.” 

There was a change in Seth’s mood, a shift in her aura, and suddenly, he felt her fingers brushing against his hand and there was a raucous scraping of chair scrapping the floor. Their knees were nearly touching now, he could sense it. “What does hurt you?” She never called him “my lord” or “milord” and he never asked her too. Casual terms were better for their working relationship this way. 

A smirk danced on his lips. “Searching for a way to injure me in case I go crazy?” he teased.

“No, I’m not,” came the insistent response. Kavi wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not yet let the issue slide. “It’s just...you seem so normal and way too cheery to be any Sith Lord I know.” 

“Why be all doom and gloom when you can be fabulous?” He leaned in slightly, smelling her scent of leather, sweat, alcohol, and a subtle yet beautiful mix of vanilla and nutmeg. The scents, particularly the vanilla and nutmeg base notes, engulfed his senses, intoxicating his head, quickening his heartbeat as well causing the blood in his veins to rush so wildly and jocosely. His speech was robbed from him, all Kavi could ponder about was how delicious and pleasing Sethali smelled like and then wondered what she tasted like. Was he that inebriated that he could think about was getting a kiss from a charming, quick-witted woman? When did he become such an untried youthling?   

Judging from the amused flare he experienced in her aura, Seth must have smiled a bit. “Point taken.” Her clothes rustled a little, his ears picking up her body leaning forward as well. All of a sudden, his mind was plagued with images of their faces being a hair breadth away, mouths partly opened and begging for the other to come and claim them. Sethali didn’t seem as closed off to him now, her presence, the infliction of her voice appeared inviting and playful, almost enticing. 

Swallowing and wetting his dry lips, Kavi took the chance. “Sethali...Seth, pardon me for my forwardness, but I really desire to kiss you right now. If you have no wish to such an action to betide, please tell me and I shall bother you no more.” 

The Mirialan agent was rather glad Kavi couldn’t witness her right now because her jaw was open wide and probably touching the floor by now. Did a Sith just ask her for permission to kiss her? Surely the universe must be imploding by now!

Still...he was insanely handsome and now, rather cute and who was she to complain if a young man like that found her attractive and wanted to kiss her?They were going to be working together anyhow so they might as well start comfortable with each other as soon as possible. Besides, she had been curious in how a Sith like him would kiss.   

Without warning, she reached over and grabbed his face passionately, crashing her lips against his with such fervency and sloppiness that only happened after she indulged herself in way too many cocktails. Kavi’s hand snuck up behind her and cradled her neck, his fingers tangled into her brown hair. He even sucked a little on her button lip and she moaned into his mouth, enjoying the new, heady sensations overpowering her mind and trickling down her spine. 

“I take it that was a ‘yes’,” Kavi remarked as they broke away, the corners of his lips twitching up into a smile.

“More like a ‘maybe’,” she bantered right back, matching his grin with one of her own. He tossed his head back and laughed.

“Sethali, I’m going to enjoy working with you from now on.” 

“Same here, Kavi.” And she meant it too. 

[jyuanka]

@softkillua Happy Birthday, Kaz! I wish you a kind year filled with love and inspiration ❤️❤️❤️

(The fic on AO3)

Ode to Summer

Canary wondered if she had ever seen a place so soaked in light, wondered how the overwhelming scent of soap simultaneously eased her and set her off. A part of her appreciated the cleanliness, another, deeper part, was wary of it. In her experience, things that were glowing and smelled good usually concealed awful realities behind them, but perhaps not here.

Her eyes surveyed the room, studying it in cold detachment. This very act felt wrong, because she was missing her staff, missing her uniform, and she was, for the most part, in a civilian house. The lack of nen was disconcerting, knowing the owner of this room, and his history. The lack of nen was disconcerting, too, oddly enough, because it added to her sense of dread.

Throughout her life, lack of visible signs of danger caused not comfort, but abnormal eeriness, and Canary had to silence the voice in her mind, ever alert, telling her to watch out.

“Are you okay there, Canary?”

She sucked in a breath and turned around, meeting her companion’s bright eyes with a smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Her eyes moved about his face, searching for what, she wasn’t sure. Was he feeling the same uneasiness? His face was set in a deliberate expression of boredom, one she could see through, but something told her he was truly disinterested in the room; his sharp blue eyes weren’t shifting around like hers, they were staring up at the ceiling, their owner sprawled quite comfortably on his friend’s bed, hands behind his head, legs crossed.

“How long are we going to stay here?” she asked him, still standing in the center of the room, disengaging herself from the space she occupied by not sitting, by not touching or moving anything.  

Killua shrugged. “Not for long, it’s just a little mission, we’re not visiting or anything.”

Canary nodded. “It’s a lovely place.”

He squinted at her. “Canary, do you wanna stay?”

“Do you?”

Killua uncrossed then crossed his legs, seemed to shrink a bit on himself. It was hardly noticeable, but all the same, she heard the evasive grunt he swallowed. “I like this place alright, but I don’t want to stay.”

III

“Hey, wait for me!”

Killua chugged off his shirt and sprinted after his two friends, following them into the water. “I remember there were some weird creatures in this pond, right, Gon?”

Gon laughed, drawing circles around himself in the green water of the pond. “Nothing you can’t handle, Killua!”

“I know, dumbass!” Killua flipped his head awkwardly to the other side, standing on a sloping rock with his arms crossed. “I just don’t want something gross to touch my feet while I’m swimming.”

Canary was straying away from the other two, legs flapping gently in the warm water, the scent of weeds and humid air pervading her senses. She submerged her head, and tried to peek in the dense waters, to discern some shape or another, but she only saw her feet lulling in a lurching canvas of muddy green.

She brought her hands to her face, and creeped three long fingers out of the water, enjoying the different temperatures. The sun up above reflected misshapen patches of whiteness on the surface; Canary swayed her hand through them, disturbing their placidity. When she could no longer hold her breath, she popped her head out of the water.

“Hey, Canary, what are you doing?” Killua’s voice reached her from above, and she had to turn around and crane her neck to see him standing alongside Gon on a high rock, hands on his hips. “We’re gonna jump!”

“Jump with us!” Gon reiterated, and even from this distance, Canary could see the beautiful sheen on his brown skin, his long hair amess, toned arms waving for her to climb up and join them.

As she pushed herself out of the water, and started making her way towards them, she reveled in the warm soil under her feet, the unfamiliar, heavy tinge in the air, droplets of water bouncing off her hair, trickling on her back. Her hands coursed through brambles and leaves of plants she had no name for, ears trying to distinguish the differences between the various twitters and trills of hopping birds, half-lidded eyes wanting to see everything, take in all the sights around her, and when she finally reached the high rock, the world around her fell into unnatural silence.

“So, who goes first?” Killua asked, white locks stuck to his forehead, inspecting his two companions with challenging looks.

A bird zipped out of the branches in panic when Gon screamed in joy, and jumped.

III

Hair sprawled around his head like spilled ink, Gon titled his head to the side to look at Canary. “What have you guys been up to? Are you traveling with Killua all the time?”

Canary was lying beside him, one hand resting on her stomach, the other fiddling with a twig, and found herself contemplating the apparent lack of resentment in his voice. “We travelled together for a while, after I resigned from my job at the Zoldyck mansion.” she said, not meeting his gaze, twirling the twig between her fingers. “But not as much anymore. Killua has his various jobs, and I have mine.”

Gon smiled. “Have you thought of taking the Hunter Exam? I bet you can pass easily!”

That made her look at him. “I did think of it.” she answered him, finally deciding to prop herself up and face him. “Though I believe I don’t have any grand purpose to become a Hunter.” Canary smiled. “Maybe one day I will.”

His smile widened. “Yeah.”

“What about you?” Canary asked, drawing circles between them with her twig. “The Nenless Hunter, you’re quite famous.”

Gon laughed. “Am I?” his eyes shifted up to the sky above them, the glow of the sunset reflecting in his eyes, then he looked back at her. “I’ve been doing many things, trying to visit aunt Mito as much as I can, since grandma passed away — and last year we discovered a new species of birds on Ioni Islands and I almost died trying to catch one!” he laughed again, and even though it was genuine, she could hear the self-deprecation in it.

Canary nodded awkwardly, her mouth drawn in a forced smile. Gon didn’t seem to notice, and moved from one subject to the next, from one story to another, quick and disjointed, almost like he’s attempting to fill in the space for the sake of evading silence.

Finally, he sighed, and smiled at her. “Do you like Whale Island, Canary?”

She returned his smile. “Very much.”

Gon seemed to take pride in this, and his smile widened. “I’m glad!”

“Glad about what?” Killua’s voice reached them before they saw him hopping over jagged rocks, leaping to the ground, and flopping gracelessly between them.

“Killua! Why did it take you so long?” Gon inquired and propped himself up, looking down at his resting friend.

Killua grimaced, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “Because Gon, I had to use the phone in the post office. The post office. In this century. You don’t even have a landline in your house!”

“But Killua, what about your cellphone?”

Blue eyes looked everywhere but at Gon. “Dead battery.”

“Why didn’t you charge it with your nen?”

Killua groaned. “Last time I did that the battery fucking melted.” he rolled his eyes. “I still don’t know how you can function without a cellphone.”

Gon frowned. “I told you, it got smashed to pieces in my last mission! I just never bought a new one.”

“Typical.” Killua spat out.

“Hey it’s alright.” Canary interjected, waving her hand between them, then shifted her attention to Killua. “How did the phone call go?”

“Fine, we’re set to leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Gon echoed in a murmur. “I thought you were gonna stay for longer.”

When she caught Killua shifting ever so slightly in his position, Canary spoke. “We came here to deliver a message for you, from a client who didn’t know how to contact you.”

Gon’s shoulders slumped, his face contorted in a disappointed frown. “I knew there was a reason behind your visit, but still I thought you’ll stay longer.” his eyes wandered from one guest to the other. “Why don’t you stay until the end of August? We can leave together then.”

He wasn’t even attempting to hide the pleading in his voice, his genuine desire for them to stay, and Canary found herself lost as to what words she should say next. She knew that now, she was free to do whatever she wanted, go wherever, live anywhere, yet she couldn’t shake off the effects of more than a decade of loyalty and devotion to her previous master; if Killua wanted to leave, then she was going to leave, too, no matter her personal desires.

Canary wished to stay.

After a long moment of silence, after the pink tint the sunset had left in Killua’s hair faded, and after every drop of water on their bodies dried, Gon sighed. “What does the client want?”

III

An hour before their departure, Canary found herself once again in Gon’s room. Now that she’d spent time with him, she could tell that not only was his nen absent - as she had sensed upon their arrival - but so was his entire presence. She couldn’t feel any Gon in this room, or at least a Gon that had bothered to spend any significant amount of time here, anyway.

If Gon was visiting his hometown as much as he claimed he was, then he was certainly not spending time in this room. In fact, he wasn’t spending time in the house at all.

Canary glanced out of the window, and saw the two boys conversing in a peculiar mix of yelling and whispering, interspersed with awkward laughter, strolling back and forth in front of the house, skipping a rock, shifting the weight on their feet, chancing two steps away before tackling each other.

If she wanted to, she could discern the contents of the hushed, lounging words passing between them, but she didn’t.

Downstairs, Mito greeted her with a bright smile, and a box of pastries.

“Don’t let Killua eat yours, I already gave him his box.” Mito told her with a playful mock frown, aware of the boy’s inclinations.  

The blue pastry box passed from Mito’s hands to hers, Canary tucked it carefully under her arm, and looked up to meet the woman’s soft gaze. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Do it again.” a whisper.

“Pardon?”

The smile on Mito’s face waned. “Visit us again.”

There was that tone again, almost the exact same one that trickled out with Gon’s request, asking them to stay until the end of August, and again, Canary tried to grasp at proper words to reply. If this was just an act of courtesy she would’ve had no problem saying something, but it was more than thanking a host, which should have been enough, because nobody had ever hosted Canary with such warmth, if only for two nights.

Was Mito aware of what the two of them had in common? The distance, between them, and a loved one. Unintended, comforting to think of as inevitable, but isn’t.

There was no resentment in Gon’s voice, because she and Killua weren’t as close as would appear. He knew that. Gon wanted them to stay longer as a good way to evade the staleness permeating this house, his relationship with his aunt.

Killua’s cellphone battery doesn’t melt when he uses his nen to charge it. Gon probably knew that, too.

Perhaps it was all something else, but Canary settled on this, settled for the vague connection these realizations created between her and Mito. Displacement, maybe even a bit of boredom. Bored with walking the distance, breaching gaps, tagging along, staying behind. Bored, and restless.

“I will.”

Mito snapped out of her own thoughts. “What?”

Canary smiled, and reached a friendly hand to the other woman. “I will visit again.”

There was no hesitation in Mito’s firm grasp, her palm cold from washing the dishes. She winked. “Maybe I will visit you.”

Canary widened her eyes, and her mouth hung open for a second before she composed herself. “But I travel a lot.”

Mito arched an eyebrow. “Who said I don’t like to travel?”

Canary smiled and nodded. “Okay then, I’ll give you my number.”

As they said goodbye, Canary didn’t mind leaving Whale Island all that much. There was something resembling the place quite beautifully in the woman waving goodbye to her, and in her subtle, casual proffer of companionship.

III

On the ship, she opened the box for the first time, tasted one of the delicious homemade confections, which she didn’t know the name for, and sighed in bliss.

“Hey Canary, what’s that?” Killua scooted closer to her, his eyes inspecting the box with unabashed greed.

She swallowed, savoring the sweetness in her mouth. “It’s a gift from Mito.”

“Eh?” he widened his eyes. “I can’t believe she didn’t give me one.”

Canary smiled. “Oh? That doesn’t seem like something she would do.”

“I know!”

Slowly, Canary closed the lid, denying Killua’s hungry eyes the sight of her pastries. “Have you checked in your bag? She might’ve left it there as a surprise.”

Killua crossed his arms. “I’m sure there isn’t any.”

Canary offered him an apologetic shrug. “Then I suppose she gave me the box as a first time visitor, maybe it’s a Whale Island tradition, hmm?”

“I don’t remember such a tradition.”

She hummed. “Then maybe she liked me more?”

Killua pierced his lips and trotted away, perhaps planning how to sneak some of her food from the box, but as Canary glanced back at the magnificent slope of Whale Island, at the blue summer sky, she knew; she wasn’t going to give him any.    

[bushlaboo]

DotN: Chapter 5

Note: Hello one and all! Apologies for the long break, I had a crazy family spell that is mostly resolved. (Fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that stuff.) I hope to get back to my every 2 week posting schedule but besides flushing out the 2 sentence outline I originally had for chapter 8 I haven't actually written anything of substance in almost a month. I hate making promises I can't keep, so no guarantees on when I will be posting again. I can, however, promise that we'll get to the finish line; even if I end up being more tortoise than hare.

Mirror (AO3)

15 Months Ago

The world was wrong and had been wrong for centuries as far as Helena was concerned. At the center of the storm, infecting the planet was humanity. Her kind would have been better off if they had kept their existence from the humans, certainly her clan, who’d been destroyed by the greedy machinations of Hakon with Slade's assistance would have been. As she had done for millennia, Helena denied her culpability in the horrible events of that night – both she and Slade had been certain she’d be able to convince Oliver into removing the clan from the castle, leaving them safe while Hakon’s forces attacked. The castle would have been theirs, as it was meant to be, if only Oliver had listened.

Her cursed existence, living to see her kind all but exterminated along with her clan demolished and her beloved turned against her – it stung bitterly, Oliver favoring a pitiful human female over one of their own. Whenever Helena thought of Felicity Smoak her stomach turned and her heart burned with rage.

All she longed for, the reason she’d persisted, had been for the chance to restore her remaining clan.

Then the magical Weird Sisters put her in the path of Macbeth, casting a spell that bound them together; it had returned her youth, but condemned her to a lonely unending life. At least it had until she found Tommy Merlyn. He thought himself something special when he was a merely a pathetic human so caught up in proving himself in his father's eyes that she could manipulate her greatest desire from him.

For the briefest, sweetest of moments all that Helena longed for had been hers. The younger gargoyles: Roy, Barry and Curtis had not truly mattered; but Longbow, Diggle and Oliver. Her Oliver. To feel his arms around her again, his hand on her cheek, to soar through the clouds with him … it had been a dream. A wondrous dream, turned nightmare because Helena had forgotten how blind her beloved was to the true threat facing their kind. Once again humanity came between them … or rather one particular human had.

Felicity Smoak.

Just thinking of the blonde haired detective made Helena hiss. That she had the confidence of her clan, their friendship and worst of all Oliver’s affection -- it twisted a heart turned cold by millennia alone. Seeing that preference displayed over and over again since before the clan realized she’d survived her fall at Merlyn Global grated and burned through Helena stronger than all the hate she’d spent centuries carrying.

She could rectify that now having acquired Titania's Mirror and the enchanted restrains needed to force Oberon’s most troublesome child to doing her bidding. Helena was certain the trickster thought he was being so clever with his disguise, but thanks to her encounter with the Sisters Three, guardians of Avalon - Nyssa, Talia and Tatsu - she knew how to see beyond the ordinary visages members of the third race wore. Cisco Ramon was such a bland mask for Puck to wear, but considering the activities of Tommy Merlyn she was certain there was amusement in the choice for him. He had alluded to that much when he appeared in his natural state – his hair silver, unbound and flowing freely though that did nothing to hide his long pointed ears – when he denied her initial demand to serve her with the tart reply of, "Serving humans is fun. They have a sense of humor. You have none!"

It irked Helena that her threats did not faze the imp, instead he managed to unbalance her by proving that her heart’s desire had not changed. No matter how disillusioned she had become, Helena wanted Oliver. Watching him with Felicity, seeing that human at his side – her rightful place – in Titania's Mirror had her spewing the demand that Puck rid the world of all humans. He balked at the order, feigning limits on his powers that in her hazy of jealous anger Helena did not think to question; instead she spat, "Fine! If you cannot get rid me of all the humans, then at least rid me of that human: Felicity Smoak."

Puck titled his head and pouted, "Did you say 'that human' or 'that human' ... oh, never mind," he waved off his own musing. "I'll figure it out. This just might be fun after all." He grinned at her then and as he spoke of the words of his spell his eyes turned yellow and he began to levitate. "Thy sight Helena doth offend, so Puck will hasten to amend. Begone Felicity, human born, and be no more as you were formed."

"It’s done?" Helena demanded. "She's gone?"

"The human Felicity Smoak is no more," he assured.

“The what now?” Felicity asked looking completely perplexed by Curtis’s offhanded comment about the Third Race. Oliver was not accustomed to seeing such a look on his ally’s face, but he found himself charmed by her wrinkled brow. He stifled that thought immediately and went back to working out Helena’s possible intentions with the mirror while the others talked. Oliver hated to speculate what she planning, but he knew whatever action she took next it would not be benign. Helena by herself was a formidable foe, her near corruption of Roy and just failed attempted at dividing the clan after she resurfaced following Macbeth’s attack on them was proof enough of that. Adding magic to the mix … it made Oliver uneasy. He had been wary of magic before battling beside Diggle against the villainy of the Archmage. Their defeat of man felt more fortuitous than skillful and had not come without a price. The scar across Diggle’s left eye, a wound that took almost his entire ability to see from it, was a permanent reminder. Oliver’s misgivings of magic were furthered after experiencing the harm it could do in the hand of a decent man like the Mage. The wisest thing in his estimation was to contain magic as best they could and keep objects of power from the likes of Helena.

“You know, gargoyles, humans and Oberon’s children,” Barry supplied helpfully.

When Felicity continued to stare at them wordlessly Curtis added, “I thought everyone knew that.”

“Apparently not,” she grumbled. Diggle chuckled at her frustrated tone. Finding something that Felicity didn’t have even a cursory knowledge of was a rarity, so of course Roy had to chime in, his tone playful, “That guy Shakespeare even wrote a play about them.”

“That Oberon?” she queried. “Like king of the fairies?”

“That be the one,” Diggle confirmed.

“Wait!” she said sharply, throwing up her hands – Felicity had a way of talking with the whole of her body that was hard to ignore, drawing Oliver’s full attention back to the discussion happening in the clock tower. The living space was still snug, but had over the last months come to feel like home. “You’re saying that shapeshifters, elves, fairies – they’re real?”

“As real as us,” Curtis replied, causing her eyes to widen as that reality began to sink in.

“I think I need—” whatever Felicity intended to say next was cut off by a sudden cry of pain. The force of it had her hunching over and wrapping her arms around herself as she whimpered. Her distress tore through Oliver, all through her rehab, even in those first days in the hospital after her shooting, Felicity had never responded in such a manner.

Instinctively he reached for Felicity, seeking to comfort her, but before he could touch her a faint blue light surrounded her. Oliver watched horrified as the shade of blue deepened and the light got brighter. More sounds of distress were wrenched from Felicity as she began to float.

It was magic, which meant it was Helena. Oliver bit back a snarl knowing that his anger would not serve him in this moment. He needed to think clearly and find a way to help Felicity. His brothers had circled her, all wanting to help, but none of them knew how to confront what was happening – leaving them to stand helplessly before their friend. The light continued to brighten, getting so intense that it was impossible to see anything through it. Though it was blinding Oliver forced his eyes to remain open, glued to the spot where he’d last seen Felicity’s face.

Just as suddenly as the magic had washed over Felicity, it exploded silently around them; leaving them to adjust to the normal light levels of the room which seemed to be fuzzy, spotted darkness on the heels of the radiance that had engulf them. That was why Oliver heard the thud of Felicity connecting with the ground instead of seeing it.

“Are you alright lass?” Diggle called out.

There was a terrifying moment of silence before Felicity wheezed out, “I think so.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Curtis remarked, his voice slightly awed. Oliver didn’t know how to take the younger gargoyle’s comment, he fought back the panic of not knowing and rubbed his eyes furiously, trying to force them to work properly again.

Finally able to make out shapes again Oliver’s gaze fell to Felicity and what he saw made him gawk much as his brothers were. Felicity stood before them, seemly unharmed which was a relief, however, her form was no longer human. Felicity had been transformed into a gargoyle.

Her creamy skin tone remained nearly the same, though there was dusting of freckles, in the shade of pink her cheeks turned when she blushed, all along her exposed dermis. Her legs had elongated some with the arch of her gargoyle feet giving her another two inches in height. Oliver could make out the pointy tips of ears just peeking out from around the flowing mass of her now freed and wavy tumble of blonde hair. Her eyes, a shade of blue that he’d always found compelling, were now tinted towards purple, reminiscent of heather that had been so prevent in their old homeland. But what truly held Oliver’s attention were Felicity’s wings. They sloped delicately off her shoulders and the underside dermis was a deeper hue of pink than her freckles.

Oliver struggled with sight before him; he knew he should be concerned about what happened to Felicity and figuring out how to correct it, but instead he was distracted – thinking how lovely Felicity was in gargoyle form, making it impossible for him to think straight. In fact he was so flummoxed that Oliver barely reacted when Felicity’s flung herself at him exclaiming happily, “Oliver you’re a gargoyle!” It took a moment for her words to register because he was too overwhelmed by the feel of her wings coming to rest over his shoulders.

It wasn’t Roy’s deadpan response that, “He’s always been a gargoyle,” that got Oliver to snap out of his haze. It was the confusion on Felicity’s face as she leaned out their embrace to look him the eye to tell him, “You were human.”

“No,” Oliver corrected, “you are.”

Felicity released a snorting laugh at his assertion. “That’s ridiculous Oliver. I’ve always been a gargoyle.”

A new wave of indignation swept through him. Manipulating Felicity’s physical form was bad enough, but messing with her mind, altering who she was at her core. For that Helena would pay. Oliver’s eyes went white in his fury, startling Felicity who jumped back from him. “I’m not mad at you Felicity,” Oliver assured her, though he could not keep the growl from his tone. “It’s the situation.”

“The one where you think I’m a human?” she queried closing the distance between them. Oliver knew it was a move meant to reassure him that she had merely been surprised by his anger and not truly afraid him. The narrowing distance between them alleviated his flush of anxiety, beyond that first night of discovery Felicity had never been fearful of him and he hated to think she would be even for a moment. Though it occurred to Oliver that fear could give him away to counter her mistaken belief.

Felicity didn’t like heights and a gargoyle learned early on not to be bothered by them. “Come?” he asked, offering her a hand. She took it without hesitation, her touch making his heart flutter, and nodded. Oliver signaled the others to follow and led Felicity to balcony outside the clock tower, out to the ledge where they took their places for their daily rest. He jumped up on it with easy. Felicity followed his lead, but wobbled as her feet landed and she took in the edge and drop down to the street below.

“Ready to fly?” His question brought her anxious eyes to his steady ones.

“Fly?” she gulped.

“Well glide,” Oliver corrected, his voice going soft an effort to calm her nerves.

“I don’t – I don’t do either,” she replied.

“But gargoyles do. That’s what our wings are for,” Oliver reminded her as he unfurled his own and allowed them to billow in the wind that danced around them. Felicity’s gaze drifted to his wings and then over the city’s skyline before fastening to his eyes again. Oliver could feel her trepidation, but a look of fierce her determination settled over her face. “Felicity,” her name was imbued with tenderness. “You’re afraid and you wouldn’t be if you’d always been a gargoyle.” To prove his point, he allowed the wind to lift him up and pulled Felicity with him. She let out a squeak and tried to dive into his arms.

“Your wings,” he reminded her. Felicity looked skeptical, but slowly expanded her wings. Delight washed over her face as the wind rippled through them. She laughed again, a carefree sound, though she never loosened her grip on his hand as they soared over the city, his brother’s swooping around them offering Felicity encouragement whenever she appeared to get nervous.

Oliver allowed himself to get lost in the moment. To enjoy it; gliding through the air with Felicity at his side, her growing elation and confidence as she started to master her wings. It was one of the most striking things he’d ever seen. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Before he could think better of it, Oliver closed the distance between and told her as much. “I’ve never realized just how beautiful you are Felicity.”

Her rosy cheeks flushed more and she offered him a smile before playfully inquiring, “You mean you thought I was ugly?"'

"Well, uh …” he sputtered before a well time gust allowed him to warn, “careful, updraft!” Oliver used the sudden draft to direct them to the rooftop of a nearby building. Reality had reared its head. It was way past time to deal with the issue at hand, which meant he had to bury the longing he had for Felicity to remain a gargoyle. Her life, her family, her calling – they all required human form. He wouldn’t deny her those things or allow Helena to take them from her.

He perched on the building’s ledge, while settling Felicity securely on the rooftop, forcing distance between them and was grateful for the presence of his brothers as they swooped in on their heels. Their compliments on her quickly picking up the nuances of flight kept Oliver from saying more things he shouldn’t. He was just about to break into their excited discussion and remind them that they had Helena induced magic to deal with, when pain sliced through him. Oliver howled, as every cell in his body morphed. The excruciating torture ended with a whoosh moments later and he found himself falling.

Oliver let out a yelp, his arms and legs flailing, when a pair of clawed hands caught his eye. Relief flood through him at the sight of Felicity diving towards him. She caught his hands and yanked with all her might. His descent slowed, but she had trouble countering his weight and they landed roughly on a roof, tumbling over each other before their skid finally halted. Oliver’s heart was pounding rapidly as they untangled themselves and got carefully to their feet.

They both took a moment to look over the other, making sure that there was nothing more serious than a few bumps and bruises from their fall before it occurred to Oliver. “You’re a gargoyle again,” he said his relief evident.

Felicity titled her head and eyed him warily. He glanced down at his bared toned chest. A few of the scratches were bleeding, but otherwise his toned muscles looked as they always did. Felicity’s hushed “Human,” had him glancing up again. She said it as if his humanity surprised her.  

Before he could question her distress she said, “There something wrong here. Do you remember the Third race?”

Oliver frowned not understanding the correlation but answered her anyhow, because it was Felicity and she had asked. “Oberon’s children, yes. They have magic.”

“That explains a lot,” she replied. For her it might, but Oliver was confused as to why it mattered. Again before he could press for answers, Felicity spoke again, insistent: “Please tell me you know how to stop them.”

He was still buzzing from the night’s events. It had been so long, too long really, since he’d been able to use his powers. Though Puck hated being bound, Helena’s schemes had given him the opportunity to circumvent Oberon’s degree against using magic, save to disguise themselves, upon banishing his children from their rightful home and to life in the mortal world. Truthfully, there was very little Puck missed about Avalon, save for his magic. Humans were such an interesting distraction, particularly the ingenuous Tommy Merlyn whose craftiness felt very much like his own and why he’d taken up the guise of Cisco Ramon. He was denied magical mischief but in aiding Tommy he found other means to satisfy his true nature.

Plus Tommy’s romantic entanglement with Laurel Lance, former leader of the Pack and unaware of Halfling, held promising potential for future fun. Still he hadn’t been able to stretch his wings, so to speak (making puns was a small pleasure he’d never deny himself), in a very long time.

He was still giddy over his feats. Willfully misinterpreting Helena’s demand and turning Felicity into a gargoyle had spun out in such a delicious unexpected way … turning the gargoyle clan human and then the entire population of Starling City into gargoyles, all to the great displeasure of Helena. Puck reached long forgotten peaks of elation at the ensuing chaos.

A thank you gift seemed in order, or rather one last excuse to use his magic before the night came to an end and further use caught Oberon’s attention. He appeared in a puff above a sullen Helena. Paying no heed to her dour mood he preened, “Oh but what fun that was! Seeing gargoyles run from your human friends. What delight! A boon I think you’ve earned for Puck’s revelry.”

“Wretched sprite,” she spat at him, lunging with her claws to take a piece of him. Puck easily floated out of range, grinning as she leapt unsuccessfully a few more times, at him. She cursed him the whole while, her eyes glowing red in her rage. Panting, she gave up, flicking her tail at him in dismissal. “Be gone with you,” Helena seethed. “I am no mood for any more of your games.”

Puck’s merriment morphed into irritation.  He’d come with good intentions – well mostly – and Helena dared to brush him off. To dismiss him. Him. Oberon's most powerful child. Oh that was an insult he would not let stand. He’d talked Helena around a demand for days earlier in the evening, but now that request would be her punishment. Helena would have her days. Only not in a way she’d appreciate. She’d be what she loathed most and Puck could find no more fitting retribution for her slight.

“Fearsome creature who would stay unchanged by the light of day,” he chanted his spell, “remain you thus throughout the night but be thou flesh by dawn's fair light.” As his words came to an end, Helena charged him again, but he merely disappeared flashing her a malevolent grin, before leaving her to discover her new form come sunrise.

“I would like to have seen the sun just once." Diggle lamented as the clan stood on the balcony of the clock tower. There was a wistful expression on his face as he looked out over the city that was coming awake as the lighter hues of sky announced the nearing of sunrise.

“That’s what movies are for,” Roy remarked though Felicity could see yearning in the red gargoyle’s eyes. Even their momentary chance of fitting in with the world around them had been marred when the humans of the city had turned gargoyle. There were others, she was sure who would accept and befriend them, but she’d grown accustomed to having them to herself and the notion of sharing them … it was hard to contemplate.

Discretion wasn’t in her mother’s vocabulary but Rory would benefit knowing the clan and vice versa. Her partner, McKenna Hall, would be a good ally. She was already curious about her random disappearances during shift; though her belief that there was super-secret government spy agency manipulating events gave Felicity pause. Still the sense of guilt she felt as all but Oliver wished her goodnight and headed to their rests made expanding their circle something she could no longer put off.

“Felicity,” Oliver said her name, in that soft meaningful way he had, drawing her attention to him.

She’d been trying for a while now to deny that she found him appealing. They were different species and liking him was one thing, but like-liking him. Talk about impossible. But the way he’d looked at her when she’d been a gargoyle – the way he kept looking at her now.

The only thing that spelled more trouble for her was remembering how Oliver looked in human form. All that strength and power had been compacted into a little over six feet of mouth-watering glory with scruffy jaw that did things to her. Felicity released a strained laugh, desperately hoping to play it off, “Yeah I know. You're relieved,” she said with a weak smile, “as I am that things are back to normal."

Disappointment flared in his eyes and his brow furled. "That's not what I was going to say—" Felicity put a hand up to Oliver’s mouth, ending his words just a moment before the sun could. She watched sadly as his searching blue eyes froze on her.

“I know,” she sighed, tracing his now stone cheek, “but that's the way it is."

Tagging: @almondblossomme

[mrsmon]

Platinum

The Storybook: Frozen

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 6,527

Sequel to Porcelain

Wedding preparations, as it turned out, were not your strong suit.

Unsurprisingly, whenever you would seek out Yoongi for advice – and indirectly permission, as the wedding was to be held in his castle – he was conveniently either incredibly busy or away on important business.

Fortunately, and a little more surprisingly, Taehyung embraced the task of planning your wedding to the fullest, causing his teachers on more than one occasion to whisper among themselves how much easier their lives would be if he was as committed to politics. Finally, when his frustrated history teacher, in a moment of emotional weakness, mentioned their collective concerns to his face, Taehyung waved them off with a moony smile.

“I understand your point, but right now I am fiancé first and prince second.”

“My lord,” the teacher objected, “you will always be prince first.

“Not if he becomes king,” someone else whispered.

You had been sitting silently at the table, brooding over a map of the kingdom, but now you slowly looked up and glared in the direction the voice had come from. An embarrassed blush gave the culprit, one of Yoongi's highest political advisers, away and you made sure to express your disapproval with your entire face.

“You sound like my brother.”

“I bid your forgiveness, princess, if I offended you or prince Taehyung.”

The atmosphere in the entire room went icy cold as you stared down the person who had dared to insult the man you loved. You knew that people said that you were nothing like your brother – that you were lively, kind, maybe a little ditzy, but warm and clever in your own way – but just like stubbornness, the thing you and Yoongi had in common was a strong heart. Having spent most of your lives being each other's only family, you had grown to be fiercely protective of the ones you loved, and neither of you would tolerate any indiscretions, however trifling. The stronger your love, the easier it was for your forgiving heart to turn stone cold.

And your love for Taehyung was stronger than one, stronger than ten, stronger than a hundred men.

Taehyung, on the other hand, had an eternal heart of gold.

“I don't see why the king dislikes me as much as he does,” he said, grinning at you widely. “I always thought I was very lovable.”

You laughed, and immediately the room seemed a little brighter. “You are, my love. It's okay, I will love you enough for both me and my brother.”

Taehyung threw a silly hand kiss across the table, making everyone but you and himself so uncomfortable that his history teacher felt compelled to clear his throat and announce that it was time for lunch.

After lunch, you were standing awkwardly in the ballroom of the castle, while Taehyung was in his element.

Around you, tables were being arranged and rearranged, tablecloths spread and folded again, curtains hung and taken down as Taehyung gave directions to make the decorations nothing short of perfect. His deep voice mixed with those of the workers and echoed from the high walls as the entire room came to life. Despite the hard labor, there was laughter and jokes being thrown around, and the sun's golden rays shone tenderly through the tall windows. You had never seen the ballroom this animated, this warm, and it was all thanks to Taehyung.

“How do we feel about ivory tablecloths?” he asked you, his brows knitting together as he looked at the fabric someone had just handed him.

“I- I don't know. Good?” you stammered and took the cloth from him for good measure. It was soft and silky and cool to the touch.

“Are you a spiller?” Taehyung was now looking at you, his face scrunched up in playful concern.

“Kind of,” you admitted and Taehyung put his hand over yours, taking the tablecloth from it.

“Good. Me too,” he grinned and kissed you on the forehead. Chuckling, you wrapped one arm around his waist and leaned against his chest, hoping the comfort of being close to him would take the edge off a little bit. One of the things you were most nervous about was meeting his parents – they were already on their way to your kingdom, and you and Taehyung were planning on meeting them at a port a three-day trip away and escorting them back here. You really hoped that they liked you – or at least that they would be nicer to you than Yoongi had been to Taehyung.

You had never really thought about your own wedding. Your mother had died when you were very young, and most of the maids and servants at the castle were much older than you, so you had never had anyone to talk to about love and marriage. Yoongi, of course, wasn't exactly the type to talk wedding dresses and place card designs with. As the princess of a powerful kingdom, you had always simply assumed that you would have to marry for political reasons. The memories you had of your parents were those of a happy, loving couple, but you knew that they had been chosen for each other by their parents. They had simply been lucky.

But not as lucky as you.

To be honest, you had never considered yourself desirable. You hadn't thought of yourself as particularly pretty, and you knew you were lacking in the royal manners department. Studying had never come easy to you, and Yoongi had often found fault with you having your head in the clouds. You were a little unrefined, a bit of a fixer-upper. But as they said, true love brings out the best.

And Taehyung had definitely fixed this fixer-upper.

He made you want to be the best version of yourself, he made you want to be kinder, smarter, and a princess worthy of a prince like him. He made you want to leave the safety of the castle and brave the tumultuous world outside. Your life had been calm and solitary, like a field covered in fresh, white snow. But Taehyung made you want to feel the sun burn on your skin and the hot sand beneath your feet, a life painted in bright colors and a touch of gold.

You looked up when Taehyung put his arm around your shoulders and nudged your nose with his to get your attention.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, taking you completely off guard.

“Uh – gray?” you blurted out and blushed when Taehyung frowned at you. So much for bright colors. You were a child raised among white mountains and under gray skies, after all.

“Think flowers, darling,” Taehyung clarified. You nodded and thought for a second.

“Blue?” you then said and Taehyung smiled a toothy smile before turning to the people in the room.

“Blue!” he yelled. “Ice blue flowers for my snow princess!”

There was a subservient response before a few women scrambled out of the room to gather a selection of flowers for you and Taehyung to choose from. You looked up at Taehyung and spoke before anything else could steal his attention away.

“What about you, Taehyung? What is your favorite color?”

He winked. “I like the color of your eyes.”

You opened your mouth to react, but then you pressed your lips together and scoffed. The color of your eyes was the same as Yoongi's – pale, icy, and blue.

“Maybe you should wear a light blue dress, too,” Taehyung mused, ignoring your scornful look. “I'm sure you would look beautiful. Although I have always dreamed of a white wedding.”

He was clearly teasing you now, but you couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm and little jokes – although you were not always sure if they were jokes at all. Still giggling, you slapped his shoulder.

“Leave the dress to me. You're not supposed to see it before the wedding anyway, so don't worry about the color.”

“But it's so exciting!” he protested, wiggling with his entire body. “I can't wait for you to walk down the aisle, I can't wait to have our first dance as husband and wife, I can't wait to be married. And I want our wedding to be amazing!”

“Relax, Taehyung,” you laughed. “It's you and me, of course it will be great.”

“I don't want it to be great, I want it to be perfect.” Taehyung leaned down to kiss you before bringing his lips close to your ear. “Just like you.”

There was an icy draft in the office, but Yoongi did not mind. He had long since abandoned his work, and his elbows were leaving dents in the papers on the desk, his stiff fingers intertwined in front of his pensive face. He had tried to close his eyes, but his thoughts had made him dizzy, so he was staring at a point at the wall across the room from under half-closed eyelids. Since the announcement of the wedding, the castle had been in a constant buzz, a whirlwind of preparation for the festivities that were a mere three weeks away.

Three weeks until you would become a bride. Three weeks until you would walk to the altar.

Three weeks until Yoongi would have to give you away.  

Yoongi didn't dislike Taehyung. He did, however, think that they were very different, too different, maybe. They were polar opposites, like hot and cold, and just as intense.

Unfortunately for Yoongi, it felt like a summer breeze blowing away a winter storm.

He could see how happy Taehyung made you, how much you enjoyed every single moment you spent with him. He had heard from servants that Taehyung was practicing horseback riding with you, and in return, you were helping him learn the history of the kingdom of which he would soon be the crown prince. No matter how anyone looked at it, it seemed like you and Taehyung fit together like clockwork, finally united to spin in perfect harmony, and your time was now.

Yoongi had never planned for you to get married. There was no need for a political marriage – he was a strong king, healthy enough, and determined to retain his power and status by creating strong bonds and alliances through negotiation and benevolence. Never ever would he have sacrificed you for the sake of politics – to Yoongi, no other kingdom was important enough, no prince or king good enough for his dear sister. The years and experiences had made him wary, distrusting, and emotionally isolated.

The only one he trusted, the only one he loved, the only one he needed was you.

But soon, you would belong to someone else.

Slowly, Yoongi pushed his chair back and got up from his desk. He looked down at his pale hands, the veins running underneath the skin like rivers of ice. Yoongi was no fool. He knew that all frozen things would melt in the heat.

But he also knew that every warm heart could freeze over.

Greed, pain, his own insignificance – many things could make a man's heart grow cold, and it was easy to cover it up with a veil of warmth and kindness. That was why he didn't trust anyone, often not even himself.

And that was why he knew that he had to do something about Taehyung.

“Where do you want to go on our honeymoon?”

You looked up at Taehyung walking next to you, and then up into the cloudy sky. Once again snow was falling gently, soft flakes landing on your dark green overcoat and leaving no trace as they melted into the thick fabric. Your fingers were cold, even in your white mittens, but your heart felt warm in your chest as you smiled at the image of you and Taehyung traveling the world together.

“Anywhere,” you replied. “Somewhere warm.”

“As you wish,” Taehyung joked and kissed a snowflake from the tip of your nose. “Somewhere warm it is.”

“You have seen much of the world, right? What is your favorite place?” You threw him a warning glance. “And don't say it's with me.”

Taehyung laughed loudly, obviously amused at you rejecting his trademark cheesiness. “Fine. I would have to say it's the country I came from. It's my home, it has made me who I am. I am very close with my family, and while I enjoy traveling and learning and seeing so many new things, there is no place like home, don't you think?”

You tilted your head to the side. “I know no place but home, so I guess I agree.”

Taehyung hummed and looked ahead at the castle standing majestically at the end of the gardens. The clouds were hanging low and a veil of fog had wrapped itself around the tallest towers. Everything around it was covered in white, but with no light to be reflected by the snow, the castle seemed to have turned the tables and instead injected everything around it with a gloomy gray. Even in the depth of winter, the weather was foreboding and almost threatening, and you were sure that a storm was coming.

“You know, that makes me kind of happy.”

“What does?” you asked and coughed in surprise when Taehyung suddenly threw an arm around you and pulled you against him firmly.

“That I'll be the one you'll see the world with for the first time,” he explained and grinned at you happily. “It's going to be fun. Trust me. We're going to go everywhere.” He emphasized the last word by waving his arm in a dramatic crescent above his head.

“Is that so?”

“Of course! I will take you wherever you want, darling. I promise. Love is an open door, you know.”

You smiled and looked down at the ground. Your shoes were kicking up powdery clouds that would settle back down on and around the black leather of your boots. The snow crunched with every step, a sound that you were all too accustomed to. You wondered what it would sound like to walk barefoot on grass or run in the sand, and what it would feel like to have Taehyung with you every step of the way, familiar like the snow under your feet.

It was a little hard to believe how Taehyung had gone from being a beautiful stranger to the person you were going to spend the rest of your life with, the person who would make dreams you never even had into reality.

“Let's do it,” you suddenly said. Taehyung turned his head to look at you.

“Hm?”

“Let's go see the world. I would go anywhere with you, so we might as well go everywhere, as you said.”

“I'm going to show you there's a life outside this castle,” Taehyung replied. “And how beautiful it is out there.”

“I can't wait.” You leaned up to kiss Taehyung's cheek, but all of a sudden he stopped walking and you were left hanging with your heels off the ground. You made sure both of your feet were back on the ground before following his gaze that was directed straight ahead.

In the distance, you saw a group of people walking towards you. It was spearheaded by your brother. His arms were hidden behind his back and his steps nothing but a leisurely. By all appearances, it seemed like he, like you and Taehyung, was only out for a relaxing afternoon stroll. There was just one thing.

Yoongi hated leisurely strolls.

Once he had gotten close enough, he held up one hand to signal his small entourage to halt. They were still fairly nearby, but definitely out of earshot. You tried to bury the bad feeling in your stomach and forced a smile on your lips.

“Good afternoon, Yoongi.”

“Good afternoon, your majesty,” echoed Taehyung and you could feel him tense up.

“Good afternoon, dearest sister.” Yoongi still had his arms behind his back when he stopped in front of you, gracing you with a kind smile.

Then he turned his attention to Taehyung. His face took on a more serious expression, and his next words confirmed what you feared to be the true reason for his mid-day excursion to the gardens.

“Prince Taehyung,” Yoongi said icily. “A word.”

With uneasy eyes and your arms crossed in front of your chest, you watched Taehyung mounting the chocolate-colored horse with the black mane your brother had had bridled and saddled up for him. The leather strap of the harness holding a rifle was slung diagonally across his upper body.

“A hunting trip?” you asked for the third time. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“It's a chance to bond with him, isn't it?” Taehyung argued, but he sounded even less convinced than you were. “We will be back soon, darling. Don't worry.”

“It's the middle of winter and a storm is coming. What are you even going to hunt?” you insisted. “You will barely be able to see in the woods.”

“How would I know, I'm not from here.” Taehyung grinned nervously. “How many of your ex-boyfriends has he taken into the forest while armed, and how many have made it back?”

“Quit joking, Taehyung. He's probably just trying to pull another big brother scare act. Don't let him get to you. We are doing nothing wrong.”

“No.” Taehyung reached down and put his hand comfortingly on your head. “We're doing everything right.”

“I love you, Taehyung.” You took his hand and pushed up the sleeve of his coat so you could press a kiss to his wrist. “Take care.”

“I love you, too.”

Taehyung pressed his heels into the horse's side and directed it towards where Yoongi was now sitting on his own stallion that was almost as white as the snow itself; its black eyes like shiny pearls, alertly scanning its surroundings. Yoongi checked his harness one last time before turning around. You had followed the brown horse hesitantly and were now looking at your brother with poorly-hidden skepticism.

“Please be careful, Yoongi,” you pleaded, rubbing your arms to protect yourself against the cold wind and distressed chills. “It is very dangerous to ride out now.”

“We will not be long,” Yoongi replied with a curt smile. “I simply felt like stretching my legs for a little while and thought Taehyung might like to join me.

“Then do yoga,” you grumbled, unnerved, and Taehyung was quick to talk over your impudent remark.

“You were quite right, your majesty. I always enjoy a good ride, in any weather.”

“See,” Yoongi said, visibly smug. “We shall be going then.”

He spurred his horse and it trotted off with Taehyung and three knights of the royal guard not far behind. The wind had started to pick up, but it did not bother Yoongi in the slightest.

He was used to being cold.

“Are you alright?” he asked Taehyung after they had ridden in silence for quite some time. It was only a couple of hours before the sun would have set, if the sun had been anywhere to be seen.

“I am, your majesty,” Taehyung assured him and made his stallion pick up speed so he could ride up next to Yoongi. “I trust the cold is no big matter to you?”

“Not at all.” Yoongi glanced at Taehyung, who had pulled up a scarf to cover more than half of his face. Snowflakes had gotten caught in his long eyelashes. Black strands of hair were peeking out from under his fur hat, and the stubborn bronze glow of his skin would have made him stick out in his surroundings even without the dark horse. Yoongi could understand why you had fallen for his brown eyes, tan skin, and bright smile, although he found Taehyung to appear far from manipulative or cunning – or even particularly intelligent.

Nevertheless, he was not to be underestimated.

Prince Taehyung had somehow convinced you to love him, to trust him, and to give up everything you knew to be with him. Yoongi did not question the fact that someone could love you – he did, too, after all, more than anything – but he did very much doubt that Taehyung did not have an agenda. It was just too convenient, too much of a coincidence that he would come to this country and just so happened to fall in love with the only princess after only a few weeks. And even though it was possible that Taehyung didn't have intentions of his own-

His father very well may have.

Yoongi's lips curled downwards into a sour smile. He would not lose a single thing to Taehyung or his father – not his kingdom, and not you.

Especially not you.

“King Yoongi,” Taehyung finally said, his tone deep and solemn. “I have not seen a single living being, neither animal nor human, since we crossed the capital's border. May I ask what the purpose of this excursion is?”

“I told my sister when I gave her my blessing,” Yoongi started, looking straight ahead, “that there will be conditions. You must understand that every marriage of this nature, whether arranged or not, is political in a way.”

“I do.”

“I have to think of and protect both my kingdom and my sister, which puts me in a difficult position, Prince Taehyung.”

“I understand, but if you are about to ask me not to marry her, then I am afraid I cannot agree to that condition.” Taehyung was staring at the side of Yoongi's face, but his porcelain skin remained unchanging.

“I will not ask any such thing of you,” Yoongi replied calmly. “My condition is this: even if you marry her-”

“When,” Taehyung said before he could stop himself. Yoongi threw him and icy look and Taehyung visibly shrunk in his saddle. “When I marry her.”

“Very well then,” Yoongi sighed exasperatedly, “Even when you marry her, you will never become king of this country. Should I die, she will reign alone as queen. Your title will and shall forever remain 'prince'. My advisers will not allow you to make or influence any political decisions. Should the suspicion arise that you are manipulating my sister, they will be instructed to exile you. Should you resist exile, they will be instructed to execute you. Those are my conditions. How do you respond?”

Taehyung stayed silent for only a few moments before sighing audibly.

“Those conditions seem awfully arbitrary and like it would be quite easy to frame me for tempering with the country's politics.”

“No law is perfect,” Yoongi answered and made his horse halt. He turned to face Taehyung. “Well?”

“I accept,” Taehyung said without missing a beat. “I am not worried. I expect you to be the king of this country for many years to come. I just hope that you will extend more trust to our heirs.”

Yoongi pressed his lips into a tight line. His eyes seemed to turn a deeper blue as he regarded Taehyung with unadulterated disdain. Taehyung could only stare back, but then a cracking sound made them both look farther into the woods. When Taehyung trained his eyes back on Yoongi, he had pulled his rifle out of the harness and was pulling back the hammer.

“King Y-”

“Shut up,” Yoongi hissed.

“What is it?” Taehyung asked and readied his own weapon – unsure of who the enemy would be. But before he could even consider all the possibilities, another noise echoed from the trees, and Yoongi took aim.

“Wolves.”

The room was dark but the flames in the fireplace kept it warm and cozy. A bucket stood next to the bed whose headboard was resting against a wall. The end reached far into the spacious room. The walls were covered in dark blue satin, and the sheets were white, with a blue, black, and white patterned blanket covering most of it. The water in the bucket had already turned red again and after changing the bandages, you decided to fetch fresh water and have the used cloths cooked thoroughly by the maids.

The wounds were hideous – a long gash across his stomach and another, a smaller one across his chest. He had been barely alive when the men had returned to the castle just before the storm had hit. It took a whole night and day of waiting, wishing, and praying for him to start showing signs of improvement. After three days, he had finally awakened. Now, another week later, he was able to eat and drink, but he was still weak and in excruciating pain.

You tiptoed back into the room, set down the bucket next to the bed, and sat down in the chair from which you had been watching over him, day and night. People had started to worry more about you eating and resting properly, rather than him, but you didn't care.

You were not going to leave his side.

The sheets moved when a hand felt around for something, and you were quick to sit down on the edge of the bed and offer your own. Cold fingers wrapped around yours lightly, and you smiled.

“Yoongi.”

“Yes.”

“How are your fingers still so cold?” you joked and gently brushed back his blond hair.

“I keep telling you,” he replied weakly, “it's because people with cold hands have warm hearts.”

You chuckled and swallowed the tears burning in your throat. The wolves had attacked the group from two sides. Fortunately, there had only been six of them, and they were able to fight them off after a short struggle. Nevertheless, one of the hungry animals had managed to jump Yoongi and thrown him off his horse. It had had time to land two fearful strikes before Taehyung had kicked it away from your wounded brother and shot it in the neck.

Taehyung had saved your brother's life.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Yoongi reached up with his other hand and his fingertips ghosted over your cheek. “You should go get some rest. You look awful.”

“Please. Have you looked into a mirror lately?”

“I keep the curtains drawn for a reason.” Yoongi smiled again. “Now go. And don't come back before tomorrow, you hear?”

“Yes, Yoongi.” You squeezed his hand before getting up from the bed and leaving the room, giving him a short wave as you closed the door behind you.

You found Taehyung in the study only a few doors down the hall. When he noticed you walk into the room, he put down his book and sat up on the couch, waiting for you to take a seat next to him. Then he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest.

“How is he doing?” he whispered and you sighed as you let yourself sink into his embrace. All the stiffness, all the chilling worry that had frozen your heart and mind seemed to melt away as you allowed yourself to feel all the things you had been closing away – exhaustion, fear, selfishness – for the first time in days.

“Better,” you replied just as quietly. “I can't thank you enough, Taehyung.”

“He would have done the same for me,” Taehyung said. “He is not a bad man, just a good brother.”

You chuckled and awkwardly craned your head to kiss Taehyung's jaw. In response, he pulled you all the way into his lap and looked down at you with a melodramatic impression.

“Oh darling. If only there was someone out there who loved you,” he sighed, “like your brother loves you.”

“What would I want with someone out there, when you are right here?” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed Taehyung, and immediately felt warmth and life return to your body.

“I have something for you.” Taehyung carefully helped you sit up before rising from the couch and walking to the window. He returned with a clear vase which held a single, blue flower.

“We ended up going with different ones for the wedding,” he explained, “but I like these a lot.”

You grinned as you took the vase from him. “Forget-me-not.”

“Yes. I know I'll only be gone six or seven days, but I give you my promise that I will return in time for our wedding.”

“You'd better,” you said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. In truth, you did not like the idea of Taehyung leaving you at a time like this, but you knew that his parents would be waiting for him – well, for the both of you, really, but there was no way you could go with him.

Yoongi needed you here.

“Please send them my apologies,” you added – you would master those royal manners yet.

“Don't worry, they will understand. They're just excited to meet their daughter-in-law.”

You laughed and put down the vase to crawl back onto Taehyung's lap and lose yourself in his warm embrace again.

“I'm not their daughter-in-law yet,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Don't be silly,” Taehyung said and kissed your hair. “Nothing is going to stop us now.”

Taehyung sailed off the next morning.

Yoongi started to recover faster, and only a few days later, he was walking around again and once or twice you found him at night in his office, staring at letters or formulating correspondence with the kings and queens of other countries. You would scold him and grab his arm, pulling him back into his bedroom where you would fall asleep in the armchair next to his bed to make sure he didn't leave the room again.

As the seven-day mark drew near, you started to get excited for Taehyung's return and invest yourself more than ever into wedding preparations. You wanted everything to be ready and perfect for the arrival of the groom and your future parents-in-law.

Then a week passed.

There was no word from Taehyung. You had been told that the weather near the coast had been clear. A small storm had been reported between the kingdom and the port where Taehyung had gone to meet his parents, but it was hardly the size to sink a big sailing ship. Nevertheless, on the evening of the eighth day you had Yoongi order a small and quick boat to depart and check the route Taehyung and his family were expected to take.

Your wedding was supposed to be held two days later.

One day later, all the preparations were coming to an end. The hallways, the garden, and the ballroom, everything had been decorated. Sky blue pennants fluttered in the wind outside on the grounds, and sashes of the same color lined the hallways. Flower arrangements completed the soft look that made the entire castle look light and cheerful, like ice blooming in the summer. Tireless in both strength and faith, people were busy putting up finishing touches on the main venue and preparing the feast for the next day. You watched them with a heavy heart and dull eyes, but made sure to thank each and every kind and hardworking soul that you passed.

By nightfall, it was over.

And Taehyung had still not returned.

You stood alone in the big ballroom, the only light being the silver rays of moonlight falling through the windows. Taehyung had decided to go with white curtains, to keep the room as bright as possible. The countless tables were covered with tasteful platinum-colored cloths. For the plates, you had decided on plain white with silver flourishes. In the middle of each table, there was a vase carrying a generous bouquet of royal blue flowers – their color somewhere between heaven and the deep ocean. Even in the dim light, you were able to make out their bright, calm color. Your bouquet was made up of the same flowers, interwoven with white lilies.

Your dress, also, was white.

You smoothed down the fabric of the skirt and sighed. You didn't know what had compelled you to put on your wedding gown and come down here. The big clock on the wall showed that it was long after midnight, but you had not been able to find any sleep. Maybe it was the anticipation, the excitement, the inability to wait even just a few more hours.

Maybe it was the lingering feeling that this was the closest you would ever get to marrying Taehyung.

“Blue orchids.” Yoongi's voice was low and close. “My favorites.”

You turned around and saw your brother standing a mere three feet behind you. His ordinary and comfortable clothes were hidden under his heavy ivory coat with the silver stitching. His face was pale and his cheeks sunken from his prolonged bedrest, but even so, he looked nothing short of regal. You smiled sadly, reaching out your hand for Yoongi to take.

“Taehyung chose them,” you said. “He said they represent beauty, strength, and peace.”

Yoongi stepped closer and let his eyes wander across the room.

“Some say they also symbolize greed.”

You couldn't help but chuckle. “Your heart cannot be moved when it comes to him, can it?”

“My heart does not care about him, but it cares very deeply about you.”

“Then I implore your heart to open up to Taehyung at least a little bit – for me.” You took Yoongi's other hand as well and looked up at him almost desperately. “I really do love him, Yoongi.”

He sighed and in a swift motion pulled you against him, wrapping one arm around your waist and using the other to bring your hand to his chest. You stood confused for a moment, but then Yoongi started moving, swaying to an imaginary rhythm in the moonlight among the orchids.

You lay your head on his shoulder, burying your head in the crook of his neck, and soon Yoongi could feel hot tears on his skin. He held you closer but never stopped dancing. You looked so breathtaking in your dress, so gorgeous yet so sad. He could barely stand looking at your lonesome figure in the middle of the dancefloor, solemnly taking in the sight of the venue of what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

He knew what people said about him, now that he was all grown-up. That he was a rational, intelligent, strong leader, but that he lacked empathy, approachability. He was admired and feared, and they said that nobody could see behind the icy shield that he wore. They said he was many things.  

Beautiful, powerful, dangerous.

Cold.

Maybe they were right. His heart was strong, selfish, and unmovable.

Frozen.

“I love you, too, you know,” he whispered into your ear and your hand gripped the back of his coat.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you mumbled against his neck. Goosebumps spread on the skin and Yoongi pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I just want us to be happy.”

“I know.” You leaned back and smiled at him through a veil of tears. “Thank you.”

“Do you believe he will make it in time?”

You nodded and smiled even wider. “I will believe in him until the end.”

Yoongi sighed again and tucked some loose strands of your hair behind your ear. He let his hand rest on your shoulder for a moment.

“You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Good,” you grinned and wiped your face with your hands. “It is my wedding day, after all.”

Yoongi snickered and took your hand.

“Come on,” he said, leading you out of the room. “Let's get you some tea.”

Without a word and side by side, you walked to the study that had been your shared space ever since your parents had passed away, the one with the big fireplace and your father's old desk. You had spent countless hours in here together – reading, talking, fighting – and despite your worries, you felt an inkling of comfort and calmness the moment you sat down on the big, worn sofa. Leaning back into the cushions, you watched as Yoongi put two logs onto the dying fire and waited for the flames to rekindle before leaving the room to prepare the tea.

You had almost dozed off when Yoongi returned, balancing a tray with two cups of tea. He set it down on the desk and took off his coat. Then he handed you one of the mugs – the one with the image of a beach in the sun that you had had since you were a small child – and settled in next to you with his own.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you said and took a sip of the hot, sweet tea. Tired, you leaned against his shoulder. You could only take two more swigs before exhaustion took over and you had to put the cup down on the small coffee table on front of the sofa. Yoongi set his mug next to yours and put an arm around you.

“Are you getting tired?”

All you could do was nod. Your body felt heavy and you could barely move your legs. There was no sensation when Yoongi gently placed them over his lap and leaned you against the arm rest. He was looking down at you with a warm smile and delicately twirled the snowflake pendant around your neck between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yoongi, I don't feel well. I'm cold.”

“Sshh. Sleep, beloved sister. Everything will be alright.”

He let go of your necklace and ran his hand through your hair soothingly.

The vessel he had sent a day and a half before had returned only a few hours ago. Taehyung and his family had decided to wait out the storm in the port city where they had reunited, but they were making good speed towards the kingdom and would arrive the next day at noon.

Just in time for the wedding.

Yoongi watched as the poison spread through your body. He could see panic starting to enter your eyes, so he leaned down and lightly kissed you on the lips. Then he took you back into his arms and listened to your breathing getting slower and slower until it eventually stopped, felt how your body grew rigid and cold in his embrace.

He had had no other choice. He loved you too much, needed you too much. He could not let it go, could not let you go.

And now you would finally be his.

Forever.

[afoolsingenuity]

Bite Sized Books // Some Romance of All Kinds

I have a nice collection of romance reads to look at in this post. I have been drifting back to more romance because I have missed it and so you may see a bit more romance around here lately… but then I might get stuck in a fantasy binge and you won’t. We’ll see.

It Happened on Love Street (Everland, Georgia #1) – Lia Riley Published: 25th April 2017 Source: Netgalley Genre: Romance, Contemporary My Rating:

The most romantic place she never wanted to be . . .

Pepper Knight moved to Everland, Georgia, as step one in her plan for a successful legal career. But after this big-city gal's plans go awry, going home with her tail between her legs isn't an option. So when the town vet-and her sexy new neighbor-offers Pepper a temporary dog-walking job, she jumps at the chance. No one needs to know that man's best friend is her worst nightmare . . . or that Everland's hot animal whisperer leaves her panting.

The last thing Rhett Valentine wants is to be the center of small-town gossip. After his first love left him at the altar, he's been there, done that. These days, life is simple, just the way he likes it. But sultry southern nights get complicated once sparks fly between him and the knockout next door. When she proposes a sexy, secret fling-all the deliciousness and none of the prying neighbors-it seems too good to be true. And it is. Because Pepper's determined to leave Love Street, and when she goes, she just might take his heart with her . . .

Gah, I've mixed feelings. On the one hand, cute romance which makes me happy and makes me smile with adorable animals and cuteness. On the other hand, it didn't make me fall head over heels. It was cute and sweet and definitely and intriguing start to a new romance series but it left me reserving judgment. I will have to read a second book I. The series to really voice my opinion on things.

It's a strange feeling not loving a romance but instead liking. I normally dive head first into love and have no regrets but not so this time. I was left waiting to like Pepper and Rhett may have seemed swoon-worthy (really, a southern gent? Don't mind if I do) but he didn't make me swoon straight away. I think my reservations over these 2 characters are what made me a bit wary. I'm used to liking at least one of the MCs straight away and then the rest will fall into place but not so this time. They both had to work on me. Maybe it was Peppers fear of dogs which made me wary? Maybe Rhett's long-term single status and meddling town life made me wary? I don't know what but something left me uncertain.

I did really enjoy it though. Like I said, it's hella cute and it did make me smile with the crazy gossip of Everland. I think one of my favourite things was that Scrabble game at the start where Pepper was trying to hustle folk. I can easily confirm that as the moment I began to like Pepper. Got to respect a girl who is good with words.

If you're looking for a cute romance with some utterly adorable pets as secondary characters (they are though really) then this is the book for you. It's sweet and fun and I see the potential for the next book.

The One Real Thing (Hart’s Boardwalk #1) – Samantha Young

Published: 1st September 2016

Source: Library

Genre: Contemporary, Romance

My Rating:

Welcome to Hartwell, a quiet seaside escape where uncovering old secrets could lead one woman to discover the meaning of a love that lasts…

While Doctor Jessica Huntington engages with the inmates at the women’s correctional facility where she works, she’s always careful to avoid emotional attachments in her personal life. Loss and betrayal taught her that lesson long ago. But when she comes across a set of old love letters in the prison’s library and visits the picturesque town of Hartwell to deliver them to their intended recipient, she finds herself unable to resist the town’s charm—and her attraction to the sexy owner of a local bar proves equally hard to deny.

Since his divorce from his unfaithful ex-wife, Cooper Lawson has focused on what really matters: his family and the boardwalk pub they’ve owned for generations. But the first time Jessica steps into his bar, Cooper is beyond tempted to risk his heart on her. Yet as their attraction grows hotter and Jessica remains stubbornly closed off, he begins to realize it will take more than just passion to convince her there’s only one real thing in life worth fighting for…

I borrowed this from the library not long after reading a good review by Nick about the second book (I have a thing about order, ok) so I knew I needed to get reading this. It may have taken me 6 weeks to get around to reading it, but once I started I could hardly put it down.

This is the kind of romance read which is a bit angsty and dramatic (which could have been off-putting) but it was written so well that nothing could have put me off really. And the angsty and dramatic things were past events which stayed with Jess so really does that count as angst?

It was this brilliant read about Jess fighting past demons and finding love when all she was really looking for is what she wanted in life. I think I loved the strength of Jess. She was a brilliant character who seemed to get overly emotional about some letters she found but was still totally bad ass with making a decision and going with it. Sure, she was scared often but she was so brave and I loved her. And Cooper! That man would make any girl swoon. I really loved his character and although I didn't totally believe he'd gone through a lot of women after his divorce I did believe he was a man who went for what he wanted and stuck with those he loved. I adored him, he was perfect for Jess and their path together was just brilliant. And the chemistry! Let me tell you, they have chemistry in buckets.

What really made the book was the town it was set in, though. Hartwell (or Hart's Boardwalk for some) was brilliant. Filled with plenty of folks I wanted to get to know better and who made this book so good. I wanted to know more about Cat, Cooper's sister who is a tad over protective, and about Iris and Ira and their daughter Ivy who doesn't even feature in the book but simply from the small amount mentioned of her I wanted more. And then there was Bailey who I loved her sexual tension with Vaughn. Don't even get me started on Jack who comes across as a bad guy but there is totally more story there. And how could I forget Emery. She has a whole heap of story too and I love that she's shy so she better get her own damn book because I can relate to blushing when you speak to people you don't know well (I do it all the time and I am not continually embarrassed) so yeah. I need her story.

Basically, it was love and I am making grabby hands for the second. I am glad I visited Hart's Boardwalk and you most definitely will too if you want a brilliant romance.

Never Trust A Pirate (Playful Brides #1) – Valerie Bowman Published: 2nd May 2017 Source: Netgalley Genre: Historical Romance My Rating:

The rules of engagement were never so scandalous. . .

  A rumored pirate and the scurrilous black sheep of his well-to- do family, Cade Cavendish relishes his world of rebellion, deception, and seduction. Nothing and no one can hold him to be the duty-bound, honorable man he is expected to be. But when an unexpected run-in at his twin brother’s estate with a ravishing, raven-haired maid leads her to believe he’s actually a viscount, Cade’s renegade life is thrown wildly off-kilter. And even though a case of mistaken identity can be quickly set to rights, matters of the heart are quite different…

  Miss Danielle LaCrosse is startled to learn that the handsome gentleman who radiates sin and has the devil in his eyes is not her employer the Viscount, but rather his infamous brother. A former heiress, orphaned and left penniless, Danielle has more than a few secrets of her own. Cade may be skilled at coaxing even the most hidden desires out of Danielle but can he earn her trust—and win her heart—as they embark on an adventure to confront a dangerous enemy from both of their pasts . . . and uncover the identity of the so-called Black Fox along the way?

  Never Trust a Pirate is part of the Regency-set Playful Brides series by Valerie Bowman

This was an insanely fun book. It begins with a thief sneaking into a captain's cabin to steal the map to be used to help Napoleon escape his prison and then moves on to a rake living with his brother his brother's new wife meeting the new French ladies maid and it all goes a bit crazy from there.

This is not a book to be taken too seriously. It's meant to be a fun romance with adventure and intrigue and a little bit of mystery as well. I knew it was going to be a fun read as soon as I saw the word Pirate in the title. I mean, pirates are always fun. The great thing about this book is you're continually kept guessing about why people are doing what they're doing because there are pirates and spies and neither always tells the whole truth!

I thought I might not like this book, especially as when you first meet Danielle she's interviewing to be a ladies maid but you can tell she doesn't really know much about the job. I began to question why she was there (I was suspicious from the start) but she ends up being a really great character who was strong and her own motives for her slightly duplicitous behavior but you'll find that out as you read.

Then there was Cade, I'm still not fully convinced I 100% liked him. I mean, he was a great black sheep and rake and the perfect opposite to Rafe (his twin) but whilst his rake-ish ways are frequently mentioned I wasn't fully convinced he was the bad guy everyone believed him to be. The fact I didn't believe it meant I didn't like him as much as I might. That being said, he did have some fun banter with Danielle and them together was fun,

I did notice one of the later plot twists early on and the ending was a little rushed for my tastes but if you're looking for a romance which is a little ridiculous then this is the book for you.

And that is it for my romance reviews. Have you read any of these? And please give me some good historical romance recs because every time I read I remember how much I love that genre and need to read more.

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[hyperbolicpurple]

Smut Swap letter

ASOIAF - Asha/Jon, Edric Dayne/Arya, Mya/Sansa Game of Thrones - Jon/Sansa/Daenerys, Jon/Sansa Original Work - Goddess/Male Worshipper

A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Asha Greyjoy/Jon Snow

Asha seems like Jon’s type, and would have fun with him. We know from her rape roleplay kink chapter she’s pretty in tune with her desires, while Jon is pretty inhibited--that might be a nice dynamic to play with. Definitely has a femdom vibe for me, or switching/fighting for dominance would be fine, or Asha topping really hard from the bottom, but it’s hard for me to see something like Jon enjoying Qarl’s part in the rape/forced submission roleplay.

Would be v. happy with canon compliant, canon AU, or other AU (including modern AU).

Since I’m requesting the book canon here, please stick with book physical descriptions. (i.e., Jon doesn’t have curly black hair)

Feel free to combine prompts if you’re so inspired!

Antagonism Leads to Sex - you know she’d mock him mercilessly while he glowered and finally snapped

Blow Jobs - he loves it, but is totally incapable of admitting it/asking for it; she’s a tease and likes to drive him nuts

Bondage - they take turns tying each other up with increasing creativity

Casual Sex - no feelings, no strings, just a really good time

Cunnilingus - Jon Snow knows one thing

Dirty Talk - Asha, of course, and at the most inconvenient times (like whispering in his ear when they’re in public)

Face Slapping - especially if Jon is embarrassed by how much he loves it and how totally hard he gets

Face-Sitting - I love it, especially when the guy is super enthusiastic and probably is gonna get a crick in his neck and the woman teases him by pulling away but he really wants it

Femdom - interested in bondage and D/s but not painplay (see other prompts), except for hair-pulling, which is A-OK

Fuckbuddies to Lovers - I love a good case of accidentally growing feelings (Jon at least has a history of this)

Having to Stay Quiet/Quiet Sex - especially if it’s public or semi-public (not enough room to request Library Sex, but that would be good here); or other people being around but not present, like, idk, camping or something

Kneeling - Jon; I love the anticipation the waiting; naked kneeling with boners yay

Oral Sex - I just love it in general; see: Cunnilingus and Blow Jobs; also 69s are great

Outdoor Sex - you know Asha has much more adventurous ideas about where it’s appropriate to have sex

Public Blow Jobs - under the table at dinner, let’s say, or something similar

Sexting - Jon gets all these amazingly hot texts at really inconvenient times and places, but you know he is the most awkward sexter

Shower Sex - :)

Undercover as a Couple - I love this as a situation that leads to smut, especially all the little touches that are supposed to be an act but really fire them up

Vaginal Fisting - Jon is wary/worried but Asha is enthusiastic

Woman on Top - Asha prefers to set the pace; maybe her holding him down

Edric Dayne/Arya Stark

Obviously I have a thing for all kinds of outdoor sex here--Arya’s just such an outdoorsy kind of person and Ned’s spent plenty of time outdoors too, being a traveling squire, so I think it would just come naturally to them.

Would be v. happy with canon compliant, canon AU, or other AU (including modern AU).

Feel free to combine prompts if that inspires you!

Cunnilingus - love, esp. face-sitting or first times (either way)

Experienced/Inexperienced - Arya being the more experienced, Ned the less

Fake/Pretend Relationship - Arya needing to bring someone home for the holidays, maybe; I love the “fake” affection becoming real

Forest Sex - what’s sexier than dried leaves up your ass? jk, but I would love a little dirt/grime in this, or sex up against a tree

In Water - Dornish water gardens, maybe? or just pool/jacuzzi/bath/etc sex

Loss of Virginity - can be both of them together, or just Ned, but would prefer not just Arya

Oral Sex - I love all kinds; 69s welcome

Outdoor Sex - see above, and other prompts

Playful Sex - I love laughter during sex

Rain Sex - sexy desperate rain-soaked kisses, dragging off wet clothes, etc

Reunion Sex - after not seeing each other for years (the war? winter?)

Thank God We’re Alive Sex - the rush of adrenaline and relief just takes over

Woman on Top - self-evident, lol

Sansa Stark/Mya Stone

Aphrodisiacs - I love repressed feelings/desires coming to the forefront; being overwhelmed by desire, shedding inhibitions, all that good jazz

Blindfolds - I like the anticipation aspect of not being able to see and instead having to listen and feel, not being sure of what exactly is going to happen

Comfort Sex - some emotional h/c please?

Cunnilingus - adore it; first times would be great for this ship

Dry Humping - I love it, like, you know it could be better and you want more, but you just can’t stop to undress, maybe the roughness of clothes, grinding against thighs, unf

Experienced/Inexperienced

Fantasizing - with a healthy side of pining

Face-Sitting - plz (I can see Sansa being really unsure/tentative here, that would appeal a lot)

First Time with a Woman - either or both

Frottage - I love it, like, you know it could be better and you want more, but you just can’t stop to undress, maybe the roughness of clothes, grinding against thighs, unf

Hedonism - Sansa just wants to feel good all the time

Mutual Masturbation - first times would be great, or some kind of regular setup/arrangement that they totally don’t talk about

Oral Sex - love, in general; 69s welcome

Overstimulation - pushed past pleasure into something that’s just intense or even painful; crying welcome

Playful Sex - I love laughter during sex

Praise Kink - either way would be great!

Rain Sex - sexy desperate rain-soaked kisses, dragging off wet clothes, etc

Reunion Sex - after not seeing each other for years (the war? winter?)

Tribadism -

Vaginal Fisting - I’m so into it and I need more of it in my life; the overwhelmingness of it (giving or receiving) is appealing to me

Game of Thrones (TV)

Jon Snow/Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen

Blindfolds - I love a character having ot rely on their other senses, not knowing exactly what’s coming and getting wet/hard from anticipation

Blow Jobs - he loves it, but is totally incapable of admitting it/asking for it

Cunnilingus - I think we all know what Jon Snow knows, but also a compare/contrast with everyone’s different oral ~styles would be good?

Face-Sitting - I love it, especially when the giver is super enthusiastic and probably is gonna get a crick in their neck and the receiver teases them by pulling away but the giver really wants it

Femdom - Dany as the dom (Dany could also dom Sansa into domming Jon, or the other way around - domception!); I bet Dany would appreciate control and I’d love to see what that means to her

Femsub - Sansa as the sub (someone who wants to be taken care of and wants to have the decisions taken out of her hands for a little while)

First Time Topping - Dany (see above); I love inexperienced tops and how they navigate that

Historical Roleplay - I am really taken with the idea of a modern (or more modern) Dany/Jon/Sansa doing some weird roleplay of their GOT canon selves

Impregnation - Jon + two wives situation? getting an heir? definitely headcanon that Jon gets off on the idea

Incest Kink - incest for everyone! let’s just totally blur the lines between family and lovers like good Targs

Kneeling - Jon or Sansa or both

Lazy/Gentle Sex - fluff please

Library Sex - I love when they have to stay quiet and/or almost get caught

Marriage of Convenience - Jon + two wives, duty turns to something more

Oral Sex - oral for everyone! 69s, oral train (trying to concentrate on giving head while getting, one of my faves)

Overstimulation - two characters gang up on the third

Praise Kink - bet Sansa likes to hear she’s doing a good job, or Jon, or Dany, hell, they can just have a praise circle if you want

Sex Pollen - “whoops I just found myself in bed having wild sex with these two beautiful people, let’s all give into our strongly repressed feelings!”

Sleepy Sex/Morning Sex - would love for this to be really indulgent or sweet; sleeping in?

Vaginal Fisting - desperately want, either Sansa or Dany receiving is fine, the overwhelmingness of it (giving or receiving) is appealing to me

Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Season six is everything to me! I love their individual and mutual issues, like trust issues, combined with a healthy dose of “we’re the only ones left” and “we only have each other to depend on.” A little emotional codependency would not go awry. They probably also spent a lot of time on the road together traveling across the North; capitalizing on that would be great. Would also be happy to see other Northern locations like beyond the Wall, Skagos, or Bear Island.

Antagonism Leads to Sex - I LOVE the tent argument scene, something following that or following something like that would be excellent

Aphrodisiacs - they would never act on their feelings/desires ... unless prompted like this, and they just give in and go whole hog

Arranged Marriage - I love the “salty teens” phenom, something along those lines would be A+

Awkward Sex - awkward sex is my jam! laughter is great, prefer an upbeat tone to tons of angst or disappointment (though some is fine)

Bathing/Washing - an h/c element would be welcome, or something post-Battle of the Bastards, blood and sweat and grime & you can never be clean but they try anyway. it’s pretty hard to have sex in medieval-sized baths, so the godswood maybe?

Coercion by Identity Deception - Alayne Stone? (mix the books in here if you like); I like manipulative Sansa, but I also like Jon seeing through it and going along, so feel free to be as dubious as you like

Comfort Sex - grieving together, reassurance of each other’s presence

Cunnilingus - Jon Snow knows one thing

Dry Humping - I love it, like, you know it could be better and you want more, but you just can’t stop to undress, maybe the roughness of clothes, grinding against thighs, unf

Face-Sitting - plz (I can see Sansa being really unsure/tentative here, that would appeal a lot)

Fantasizing - they would never act on such base desires, but they do think about it

High Heels - Sansa ... and now she’s got several inches on Jon, yes!

Incest Kink - go full Targ with Jon or both of them; angst away or they can be totally carefree about it

Marriage of Convenience - always love! duty sex, duty sex becoming more than duty, etc

Scars - Jon’s especially, or both of theirs; INTIMACY ISSUES!!!

Sex After Fighting/Battle - Battle of the Bastards or War for the Dawn (camp tent sex?); can be rough

Sex in a Car - limited space and movement, the classic losing-your-virginity-in-the-backseat trope

Sex Pollen - same feel as Aphrodisiacs above

Sharing a Bed - always love this, forced proximity = sex, yeah!; maybe they have a hard time sleeping alone or have to share while they’re traveling together (safer to travel as husband & wife?)

Sharing Body Heat - same as bed-sharing, give me the tropiest iteration and I will be happy; would love h/c; the North is very cold!

Original Work

Goddess/Male Worshipper

In general, just looking for a really super devoted guy. How much worldbuilding you want to do (goddess of what? what’s the nature of worship? religious orders? etc) is COMPLETELY up to you, I’d be good with something really involved and elaborate or just a thin veneer of worldbuilding for porn purposes, lol. I think it would be pretty easy to combine some of these prompts if you feel so inclined!

Begging - him Body Worship - hopefully obvious, lol Chastity Device/Cock Cages - maybe some kind of celibate order thing? or a personal act of devotion? I like the pleasure/pain aspect of being turned on while the cage stays locked, but if she wants to take it off that’s good too Cunnilingus - yep Enthusiastic Consent - guy is just super eager to please Experienced/Inexperienced - either way is fine Face Slapping - along with Whipping, I’d be interested in a scenario where the goddess derives power from the willing infliction of pain/debasement Face-Sitting - I love it, especially when the guy is super enthusiastic and probably is gonna get a crick in his neck and the woman teases him by pulling away but he really wants it Kneeling - I love the anticipation the waiting; naked kneeling with boners yay Neediness to Please - him Outdoor Sex - not much to say, just love the exposure and openness without the public “people are watching” aspect Pussy Worship - obvious Ritual Sex - he’s some kind of offering tied up for her? her actually showing up is maybe a surprise? or some other kind of ritual? public/people are watching? Talked to Orgasm - goddess voice! Verbal Humiliation - not as interested in dick size humiliation, but p much anything else goes (“humans are dirty little ants” and/or “How could you possibly pleasure me” vibe would work) Whipping - see Face Slapping, looking for the same deal Worship - hopefully obvious, lol

[carasueachterberg]

Normally when I bring home a new foster dog there is an extended shut-down period – a time when the new foster is kept away from the other dogs, spends a lot of time in her crate, is kept on a leash all the time even when out of the crate (and confined to the kitchen). This generally lasts one to two weeks.

We started down that path with Fanny Wiggles, but she came from a foster situation where she’d already had plenty of crate time. But even when she was out of the crate, she found a corner to fold herself into or hid behind a chair, often beneath my feet. She was shy with everyone in the house, ducking from any touches, watching but wary.

She lit up when she caught a glimpse of Flannery and Gracie, but knowing that both of those girls start every introduction with a snarl (which is completely a bluff), I wasn’t ready to introduce them. Still, I was pretty sure the key to her relaxing and settling in would be a doggie friend. So, I contacted Nancy Slattery and the best dogfriend I know, my 50th foster dog, Edith Wharton.

We met at a dog park nearby and sure enough it only took a minute or two before Fanny was racing and playing with Edith, a huge smile plastered on her face.

I’d brought Flannery with me too because I thought a big space and a good example (Edith) might make the introduction to Fanny go better. Flannery puffed herself up like a blowfish and growled a few times, but she couldn’t resist the happy playing of Edith and Fanny. Even when a new dog (an unneutered male) showed up, the happy pack continued their play, inviting him to join. Flannery gave him a bit of shout down, and he smartly avoided her after that.

Fanny and Flannery (I know that’s quite a mouthful) continued to bond throughout the weekend, wrestling and playing and hiking together. Everything seemed new to Fanny, but with Flannery along she was brave, even greeting strangers at the dog park.

It will take some time for Fanny to feel safe, but slowly we are seeing a funny, playful, happy girl emerge. She loves to play with toys – flinging and pouncing on and shaking them. After watching Flannery chase ball after ball, she tentatively pounced after one and quickly learned to bring it back. She is a smart girl and already communicating well.

I may be biased, but Fanny is simply gorgeous. Her super short coat is caramel-colored that shimmers gold and red in the sunshine. Her nose is a perfectly shaped pink heart, and the end of her tail has a distinct hook-shape. We visited two dog parks this week and both times a stranger admired her and asked, “What kind of dog is she?”

“She could be anything,” I told them.

OPH labeled her a pitbull terrier mix, but the vet in Tennessee listed her as a Vizsla. In the end, it doesn’t really matter what’s inside her DNA, what matters most is what is inside her heart and that is clearly a loving, silly, smart dog who has seen enough of life to be cautious but is young enough to be curious.

I read a recent post from How I Met My Dog, a newish dog-placement site about how much breed matters (not much). HIMMD matches up adopters and dogs based on personalities, lifestyle, and training experience/desires. Not once do they ask, “What breed are you looking for?”

When we rescue a dog we never know what breed it is—without a DNA test and no knowledge of mom or dad’s breeding (and most times no knowledge of mom or dad), everything is a guess. Research shows that most of the time even shelter staff who work with dogs every day are wrong on their breed guess.

Every shelter we visited on our recent trip, was full of big, beautiful dogs with fat heads, tiny ears, and wide smiles.

Over and over again we heard that it was hard to find adopters and rescue for the pitbull-type dogs. The shelter staff would explain how these were some of the sweetest, mellowest, best dogs with outsize personalities, and yet people did not want to take a chance.

I believe we have to put away the breed labels and treat each dog as an individual. Isn’t that the same thing happening with the human race? None of us want to be labeled or judged by that label. Maybe if we started by not labeling the dogs, we might be able to stop labeling the people.

I just finished reading a book that came out today from Penguin Random-House called Rescue Dogs.

It is written by a man who uses the alias Pete Paxton with the help of best-selling writer, Gene Stone. ‘Pete’ is an undercover investigator who has helped to bring charges against puppy mill and commercial breeders. His experiences have made him a big proponent of choosing rescue dogs. The first half of his book is about his experiences working undercover and the crimes he shares are hard to read, but the second part of the book is about bringing home a rescue dog and why it’s the best choice.

Here are a few excerpts:

“…to understand dog behavior correctly, we have to see dogs for exactly who they are and not who we want them to be. Too often, we view animals through a lens blurred by the belief that other creatures exist for our purposes rather than for their own.”

“We need to appreciate them as beings that exist for their own reasons and are not only capable of happiness, love, loyalty, and respect, but also worthy of those things themselves.”

“Any past benefits we may have gained from breeding dogs have been overshadowed by the harms of overbreeding: stray dogs and overcrowded shelters. Moreover, breeding dogs solely for their physical appearance has created animals almost guaranteed to suffer from breed-specific health problems.”

I also really appreciated a few of his training thoughts. They underlined his belief that every dog is an individual and (hopefully) a member of a family and should be treated as such and the dog’s training should reflect that.

“It is not in a dog’s nature to have a dominant alpha lording it over her while she acts submissive. Instead, her instinct is to be part of a family.”

“If you don’t care if your dog sleeps on the couch, hangs out around the dinner table, or lies on people’s laps while they’re watching TV, then don’t alter those behaviors. Behavior only has to be altered if it’s dangerous to you, a family member, or another animal in your household.”

 The beauty of fostering is that we have a chance to invite a dog into our family, our pack, even temporarily, and offer it love and safety and acceptance.

The beauty of adopting through a foster home is that instead of telling you what breed this dog is, we can tell you who this dog is and help you figure out if it’s the right dog for your family.

Thanks for reading!

If you’d like to know more about my blogs and books, visit CaraWrites.com or subscribe to my occasional e-newsletter. If you’d like more pictures and videos of my foster dogs past and present, be sure to join the Another Good Dog Facebook group.

If you want to know where all these dogs are coming from and how you can help, visit Who Will Let the Dogs Out.

I love hearing from readers, so please feel free to comment here on the blog, email carasueachterberg@gmail.com or connect with me on Facebook, twitter, or Instagram.

 Best,

Cara

Released August 2018 from Pegasus Books and available now

      New member of the pack and a new book worth reading. #RescueDogs #opttoadopt @tarcherperigee @genestone Normally when I bring home a new foster dog there is an extended shut-down period – a time when the new foster is kept away from the other dogs, spends a lot of time in her crate, is kept on a leash all the time even when out of the crate (and confined to the kitchen).

[fiftyshadesofdimmadome]

Book 1; Chapter 20

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome bursts through the wooden door of the boathouse and pauses to flick on some lights. Fluorescents ping and buzz in sequence as harsh white light floods the large wooden building. From my upside-down view, I can see an impressive motor launch in the dock floating gently on the dark water, but I only get a brief look before he’s carrying me up some wooden stairs to the room above.

Fie pauses at the doorway and touches another switch halogens this time, they are softer, on a dimmer and we’re in an attic room with sloping ceilings. It’s decorated with a nautical New England theme: navy blues and creams with a dash of red. The furnishings are sparse, just a couple of couches are all I can see.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome sets me on my feet on the wooden floor. I don’t have time to examine my surroundings my eyes can’t leave him. I am mesmerized... watching him like one would watch a rare and dangerous predator, waiting for him to strike. His breathing is harsh but then he’s just carried me across the lawn and up a flight of stairs. Gray eyes blaze with anger, need, and pure unadulterated lust.

Holy shit. I could spontaneously combust from his look alone.

“Please don’t hit me,” I whisper, pleading.

His brow furrows, his eyes widening. He blinks twice.

“I don’t want you to spank me, not here, not now. Please don’t.”

His mouth drops open slightly in surprise, and beyond brave, I tentatively reach up and run my fingers down his cheek, along the edge of his sideburn, to the stubble on his chin.

It’s a curious mixture of soft and prickly. Slowly closing his eyes, he leans his face into my touch, and his breath hitches in his throat. Reaching up with my other hand, I run my fingers into his hair. I love his hair. His soft moan is barely audible, and when he opens his eyes, his look is wary, like he doesn’t understand what I’m doing.

Stepping forward so I am flush against him, I pull gently on his hair, bringing his mouth down to mine, and I kiss him, forcing my tongue between his lips and into his mouth. He groans, and his arms embrace me, pulling me to him. His hands find their way into my hair, and he kisses me back, hard and possessive. His tongue and my tongue twist and turn together, consuming each other. He tastes divine.

He pulls back suddenly, our collective breathing ragged and mingling. My hands drop to his arms and he glares down at me.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispers confused.

“Kissing you.”

“You said no.”

“What?” No to what?

“At the dinner table, with your legs.”

Oh... that’s what this is all about.

“But we were at your parents’ dining table.” I stare up at him, completely bewildered.

“No one’s ever said no to me before. And it’s so hot.”

His eyes widen slightly, filled with wonder and lust. It’s a heady mix. I swallow in stinctively. His hand moves down to my behind. He pulls me sharply against him, and I can feel his erection.

Oh my...

“You’re mad and turned on because I said no?” I breathe, astonished.

“I’m mad because you never mentioned Georgia to me. I’m mad because you went drinking with that guy who tried to seduce you when you were drunk and who left you when you were ill with an almost complete stranger. What kind of friend does that? And I’m mad and aroused because you closed your legs on me.” His eyes glitter dangerously, and he’s slowly inching up the hem of my dress.

“I want you, and I want you now. And if you’re not going to let me spank you which you deserve I’m going to fuck you on the couch this minute, quickly, for my pleasure, not yours.”

My dress is now barely covering my naked behind. He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. I suppress my moan.

“This is mine,” he whispers aggressively. “All mine. Do you understand?” He eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning.

“Yes, yours,” I breathe as my desire, hot and heavy, surges through my bloodstream, affecting... everything. My nerve endings, my breathing, my heart is pounding, trying to leave my chest, the blood thrumming in my ears.

Abruptly, he moves, doing several things at once. Withdrawing his fingers, leaving me wanting, unzipping his fly, and pushing me down onto the couch so he’s lying on top of me.

“Hands on your head,” he commands through gritted teeth as he kneels up, forcing my legs wider, and reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. He takes out a foil packet, gazing down at me, his expression dark, before shrugging off his jacket so it falls to the floor. He rolls the condom down over his impressive length.

I place my hands on my head, and I know it’s so I won’t touch him. I’m so turned on.

I feel my hips moving already up to meet him wanting him inside me, like this rough and hard. Oh... the anticipation.

“We don’t have long. This will be quick, and it’s for me, not you. Do you understand? Don’t come, or I will spank you,” he says through clenched teeth.

Holy crap... how do I stop?

With one swift thrust, he’s fully inside me. I groan loudly, gutturally, and revel in the fullness of his possession. He puts his hands on mine on top of my head, his elbows hold my arms out and down, and his legs pinion me. I am trapped. He’s everywhere, over whelming me, almost suffocating. But it’s heavenly too, this is my power, this is what I do to him, and it’s a hedonistic, triumphant feeling. He moves quickly and furiously inside me, his breathing harsh at my ear, and my body responds, melting around him. I mustn’t come. No. But I’m meeting him thrust for thrust, a perfect counterpoint. Abruptly, and all too soon, he rams into me and stills as he finds his release, air hissing through his teeth. He relaxes momentarily, so I feel his entire, delicious weight on me. I’m not ready to let him go, my body craving relief, but he’s so heavy, and in that moment, I can’t push against him. All of a sudden, he withdraws, leaving me aching and hungry for more. He glares down at me.

“Don’t touch yourself. I want you frustrated. That’s what you do to me by not talking to me, by denying me what’s mine.” His eyes blaze anew, angry again.

I nod, panting. He stands and removes the condom, knotting it at the end, and puts it in his pants pocket. I gaze at him, my breathing still erratic, and involuntarily I squeeze my thighs together, trying to find some relief. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome does up his fly and runs his hand through his hair as he reaches down to collect his jacket. He turns back to gaze down at me, his expression softer.

“We’d better get back to the house.”

I sit up, a little unsteadily, dazed.

“Here. You may put these on.”

From his inside pocket, he produces my panties. I don’t grin as I take them from him, but inside I know I’ve taken a punishment fuck but gained a small victory over the pant ies. My inner goddess nods in agreement, a satisfied grin over her face You didn’t have to ask for them.

“Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome!” Mia shouts from the floor below.

He turns and raises his eyebrows at me.

“Just in time. Christ, she can be really irritating.”

I scowl back at him, hastily restore my panties to their rightful place, and stand with as much dignity as I can muster in my just-fucked state. Quickly, I attempt to smooth my just-fucked hair.

“Up here, Mia,” he calls down. “Well, Miss Steele, I feel better for that but I still want to spank you,” he says softly.

“I don’t believe I deserve it Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, especially after tolerating your unprovoked at tack.”

“Unprovoked? You kissed me.” He tries his best to look wounded.

I purse my lips.

“It was attack as the best form of defense.”

“Defense against what?”

“You and your twitchy palm.”

He cocks his head to one side and smiles at me as Mia comes clattering up the stairs.

“But it was tolerable?” he asks softly.

I flush.

“Barely,” I whisper, but I can’t help my smirk.

“Oh, there you are.” She beams at us.

“I was showing Anastasia around.” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome holds his hand out to me, his gray eyes intense.

I put my hand into his, and he gives it a soft squeeze.

“Kate and Elliot are about to leave. Can you believe those two? They can’t keep their hands off each other.” Mia feigns disgust and looks from Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome to me. “What have you been doing in here?”

Jeez, she’s forward. I blush scarlet.

“Showing Anastasia my rowing trophies,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome says without missing a beat, com pletely poker-faced. “Let’s go say goodbye to Kate and Elliot.”

Rowing trophies? He pulls me gently in front of him, and as Mia turns to go, he swats my behind. I gasp in surprise.

“I will do it again, Anastasia, and soon,” he threatens quietly close to my ear, then he pulls me into an embrace, my back to his front, and kisses my hair.

Back in the house, Kate and Elliot are making their farewells to Grace and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. Kate hugs me hard.

“I need to speak to you about antagonizing Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome,” I hiss quietly in her ear as she embraces me.

“He needs antagonizing, then you can see what he’s really like. Be careful, Ana he’s so controlling,” she whispers. “See you later.”

I KNOW WHAT HE’S REALLY LIKE YOU DON’T! I scream at her in my head.

I’m fully aware that her actions come from a good place, but sometimes she just oversteps the mark, and right now so far that she’s into the neighboring state. I scowl at her, and she pokes her tongue out at me, making me smile unwillingly. Playful Kate is novel, must be Elliot’s influence. We wave them off at the doorway, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome turns to me.

“We should go too you have interviews tomorrow.”

Mia embraces me warmly as we say our goodbyes.

“We never thought he’d find anyone!” she gushes.

I flush, and Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome rolls his eyes again. I purse my lips. Why can he do that when I can’t? I want to roll my eyes back at him, but I do not dare, not after his threat in the boathouse.

“Take care of yourself, Ana, dear,” Grace says kindly.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, embarrassed or frustrated by the lavish attention I’m receiving from the re maining Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadomes, grabs my hand and pulls me to his side.

“Let’s not frighten her away or spoil her with too much affection,” he grumbles.

“Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, stop teasing.” Grace scolds him indulgently, her eyes glowing with love and affection for him.

Somehow, I don’t think he’s teasing. I surreptitiously watch their interaction. It’s obvious Grace adores him with a mother’s unconditional love. He bends and kisses her stiffly.

“Mom,” he says, and there’s an undercurrent in his voice reverence maybe?

“Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome goodbye and thank you.” I hold out my hand to him, and he hugs me too!

“Please, call me Carrick. I do hope we see you again, very soon, Ana.”

Our farewells said, Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome leads me to the car where Taylor is waiting. Has he been waiting here the whole time? Taylor opens my door, and I slide into the back of the Audi.

I feel some of the tension leaving my shoulders. Jeez, what a day. I am exhausted, physically and emotionally. After a brief conversation with Taylor, Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome clambers into the car beside me. He turns to face me.

“Well, it seems my family likes you, too,” he murmurs.

Too? The depressing thought about how I came to be invited pops unbidden and very unwelcome into my head. Taylor starts the car and heads away from the circle of light in the driveway to the darkness of the road. I gaze at Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and he’s staring at me.

“What?” he asks, his voice quiet.

I flounder momentarily. No I’ll tell him. He’s always complaining that I don’t talk to him.

“I think that you felt trapped into bringing me to meet your parents.” My voice is soft and hesitant. “If Elliot hadn’t asked Kate, you’d never have asked me.” I can’t see his face in the dark, but he tilts his head, gaping at me.

“Anastasia, I’m delighted that you’ve met my parents. Why are you so filled with self doubt? It never ceases to amaze me. You’re such a strong, self-contained young woman, but you have such negative thoughts about yourself. If I hadn’t wanted you to meet them, you wouldn’t be here. Is that how you were feeling the whole time you were there?”

Oh! He wanted me there and it’s a revelation. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable an swering me as he would if he were hiding the truth. He seems genuinely pleased that I’m here... a warm glow spreads slowly through my veins. He shakes his head and reaches for my hand. I glance nervously at Taylor.

“Don’t worry about Taylor. Talk to me.”

I shrug.

“Yes. I thought that. And another thing, I only mentioned Georgia because Kate was talking about Barbados I haven’t made up my mind.”

“Do you want to go and see your mother?”

“Yes.”

He looks oddly at me, like he’s having some internal struggle.

“Can I come with you?” he asks eventually.

What!?

“Erm. . . I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I was hoping for a break from all this. . . intensity to try and think things through.”

He stares at me.

“I’m too intense?”

I burst out laughing.

“That’s putting it mildly!”

In the light of the passing street lamps, I see his lips quirk up.

“Are you laughing at me, Miss Steele?”

“I wouldn’t dare, Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome,” I reply with mock seriousness.

“I think you dare, and I think you do laugh at me, frequently.”

“You are quite funny.”

“Funny?”

“Oh yes.”

“Funny peculiar or funny ha ha?”

“Oh... a lot of one and some of the other.”

“Which way round?”

“I’ll leave you to figure that out.”

“I’m not sure if I can figure anything out around you, Anastasia,” he says sardonically, and then continues quietly, “What do you need to think about in Georgia?”

“Us,” I whisper.

He stares at me, impassive.

“You said you’d try,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

“Possibly.”

He shifts as if uncomfortable.

“Why?”

Holy crap. How did this suddenly become such an intense and meaningful conversa tion? It’s been sprung on me, like an exam that I’m not prepared for. What do I say? Be cause I think I love you, and you just see me as a toy. Because I can’t touch you, because I’m too frightened to show you any affection in case you flinch or tell me off or worse beat me? What can I say?

I stare momentarily out of the window. The car is heading back across the bridge. We are both shrouded in darkness, masking our thoughts and feelings, but we don’t need the night for that.

“Why, Anastasia?” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome presses me for an answer.

I shrug, trapped. I don’t want to lose him. In spite of all his demands, his need to control, his scary vices. I have never felt as alive as I do now. It’s a thrill to be sitting here beside him. He’s so unpredictable, sexy, smart, and funny. But his moods. . . oh and he wants to hurt me. He says he’ll think about my reservations, but it still scares me. I close my eyes. What can I say? Deep down I would just like more, more affection, more playful Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, more... love.

He squeezes my hand.

“Talk to me, Anastasia. I don’t want to lose you. This last week... ” He trails off.

We’re coming near to the end of the bridge, and the road is once more bathed in the neon light of the street lamps so his face is intermittently in the light and the dark. And it’s such a fitting metaphor. This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero a brave shining white knight, or the dark knight as he said. He’s not a hero, he’s a man with seri ous, deep emotional flaws, and he’s dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide him into the light?

“I still want more,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says. “I’ll try.”

I blink up at him, and he relinquishes my hand and pulls at my chin, releasing my trapped lip.

“For you, Anastasia, I will try.” He’s radiating sincerity.

And that’s my cue. I unbuckle my seatbelt, reach across, and clamber into his lap, tak ing him completely by surprise. Wrapping my arms around his head, I kiss him, long and hard, and in a nanosecond, he’s responding.

“Stay with me, tonight,” he breathes. “If you go away, I won’t see you all week.

Please.”

“Yes,” I acquiesce. “And I’ll try too. I’ll sign your contract.” And it’s a spur of the moment decision.

He gazes down at me.

“Sign after Georgia. Think about it. Think about it hard, baby.”

“I will.” And we sit in silence for a mile or two.

“You really should wear your seatbelt,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome whispers disapprovingly into my hair, but he makes no move to shift me from his lap.

I nuzzle up against him, eyes closed, my nose at his throat, drinking in his sexy Chris tian-and-spiced-musky-body-wash fragrance, my head on his shoulder. I let my mind drift, and I allow myself to fantasize that he loves me. Oh, and it’s so real, tangible almost, and a small part of my nasty harpy self-conscious acts completely out of character and dares to hope. I’m careful not to touch his chest but just snuggle in his arms as he holds me tightly.

All too soon, I’m torn from my impossible daydream.

“We’re home,” Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome murmurs, and it’s such a tantalizing sentence, full of so much potential.

Home, with Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. Except his apartment is an art gallery, not a home.

Taylor opens the door for us, and I thank him shyly, aware that he’s been within earshot of our conversation, but his kind smile is reassuring and gives nothing away. Once out of the car, Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome assesses me critically. Oh no... what have I done now?

“Why don’t you have a jacket?” he frowns as he shrugs out of his and drapes it over my shoulders.

Relief washes through me.

“It’s in my new car,” I reply sleepily, yawning.

He smirks at me.

“Tired, Miss Steele?”

“Yes, Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.” I feel bashful under his teasing scrutiny. Nevertheless I feel an ex planation is in order, “I’ve been prevailed upon in ways I never thought possible today.”

“Well, if you’re really unlucky, I may prevail upon you some more,” he promises as he takes my hand and leads me into the building. Holy Shit... Again?!

I gaze up at him in the elevator. I have assumed he’d like me to sleep with him, and then I remember that he doesn’t sleep with anyone, although he has with me a few times.

I frown, and abruptly his gaze darkens. He reaches up and grasps my chin, freeing my lip from teeth.

“One day I will fuck you in this elevator, Anastasia, but right now you’re tired so I think we should stick to a bed.”

Bending down, he clamps his teeth around my lower lip and pulls gently. I melt against him, and my breathing stops as my insides unfurl with longing. I reciprocate, fastening my teeth over his top lip, teasing him, and he groans. When the elevator doors open, he grabs my hand and tugs me into the foyer, through the double doors, and into the hallway.

“Do you need a drink or anything?”

“No.”

“Good. Let’s go to bed.”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“You’re going to settle for plain old vanilla?”

He cocks his head to one side.

“Nothing plain or old about vanilla it’s a very intriguing flavor,” he breathes.

“Since when?”

“Since last Saturday. Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?”

My inner goddess pops her head above the parapet.

“Oh no. I’ve had enough exotic for one day.” My inner goddess pouts at me, failing miserably to hide her disappointment.

“Sure? We cater for all tastes here at least thirty-one flavors.” He grins at me lascivi ously.

“I’ve noticed,” I reply dryly.

He shakes his head.

“Come on, Miss Steele, you have a big day tomorrow. Sooner you’re in bed, sooner you’ll be fucked, and sooner you can sleep.”

“Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, you are a born romantic.”

“Miss Steele, you have a smart mouth. I may have to subdue it some way. Come.” He leads me down the hallway into his bedroom and kicks the door closed.

“Hands in the air,” he commands.

I oblige, and in one breathtakingly swift move, he removes my dress like a magician, grasping it at the hem and pulling it smoothly and fleetly over my head.

“Ta Da!” he says playfully.

I giggle and applaud politely. He bows gracefully grinning. How can I resist him when he’s like this? He places my dress on the lone chair beside his chest of drawers.

“And for your next trick?” I prompt, teasing.

“Oh my dear, Miss Steele. Get into my bed,” he growls. “And I’ll show you.”

“Do you think that for once I should play hard to get?” I ask coquettishly.

His eyes widen with surprise, and I see a glimmer of excitement.

“Well... the door’s closed. Not sure how you’re going to avoid me,” he says sardoni cally. “I think it’s a done deal.”

“But I’m a good negotiator.”

“So am I.” He stares down at me, but as he does, his expression changes, confusion washes over him, and the atmosphere in the room shifts abruptly, tensing. “Don’t you want to fuck?” he asks.

“No,” I breathe.

“Oh.” He frowns.

Okay, here goes... deep breath.

“I want you to make love to me.”

He stills and stares at me blankly. His expression darkens. Oh shit, this doesn’t look good. Give him a minute! My subconscious snaps.

“Ana, I... ” He runs his hands through his hair. Two hands. Jeez, he’s really bewil dered.

“I thought we did?” he says eventually.

“I want to touch you.”

He takes an involuntary step back from me, his expression for a moment fearful, and then he reins it in.

“Please,” I whisper.

He recovers himself.

“Oh, no Miss Steele, you’ve had enough concessions from me this evening. And I’m saying no.”

“No?”

“No.”

Oh. . . I can’t argue with that. . . can I?

“Look, you’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” he says, watching me carefully.

“So touching is a hard limit for you?”

“Yes. This is old news.”

“Please tell me why.”

“Oh, Anastasia, please. Just drop it for now,” he mutters exasperated.

“It’s important to me.”

Again he runs both hands through his hair, and he utters an oath beneath his breath. Turning on his heel, he heads for the chest of drawers, pulls out a t-shirt, and throws it at me. I catch it, bemused.

“Put that on and get into bed,” he snaps, irritated.

I frown but decide to humor him. Turning my back, I quickly remove my bra, pulling the t-shirt on as hastily as I can to cover my nakedness. I leave my panties on, I haven’t worn them for most of the evening.

“I need the bathroom.” My voice is a whisper.

He frowns, bemused.

“Now you’re askinq permission?”

“Err... no.”

“Anastasia, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange ar rangement, you don’t need my permission to use it.” He cannot hide his irritation. He shrugs out of his shirt, and I scoot into the bathroom.

I stare at myself in the over-large mirror, shocked that I still look the same. After all that I’ve done today, it’s still the same ordinary girl gaping back at me. What did you ex pect that you’d grow horns and a little pointy tail? My subconscious snaps at me. And what the hell are you doing? Touching is his hard limit. Too soon, you idiot, he needs to walk before he can run. My subconscious is furious, medusa-like in her anger, hair flying, her hands clenched around her face like Edvard Munch’s Scream. I ignore her, but she won’t climb back into her box. You are making him mad think about all that’s he’s said, all he’s conceded. I scowl at my reflection. I need to be able to show him affection then perhaps he can reciprocate.

I shake my head resigned and grasp Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome’s toothbrush. My subconscious is right of course. I’m rushing him. He’s not ready and neither am I. We are balanced on the delicate see-saw, that is our strange arrangement at different ends, vacillating, and it tips and sways between us. We both need to edge closer to the middle. I just hope neither of us falls off in our attempt to do so. This is all so quick. Maybe I need some distance. Georgia seems more appealing than ever. As I begin brushing my teeth, he knocks.

“Come in,” I splutter through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome stands in the doorway, his PJs hanging off his hips in that way that makes every little cell in my body stand up and take notice. He’s bare-chested, and I drink him in like I’m crazed with thirst and he’s clear cool mountain spring water. He gazes at me impassively, then smirks and comes to stand beside me. Our eyes lock in the mirror, gray to blue. I finish with his toothbrush, rinse it off, and hand it to him, my look never leaving his. Wordlessly, he takes the toothbrush from me and puts it in his mouth. I smirk back at him, and his eyes are suddenly dancing with humor.

“Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush.” His tone is gently mocking.

“Thank you, Sir,” I smile sweetly, and I leave, heading back to bed.

A few minutes later he joins me.

“You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out,” he mutters petulantly.

“Imagine if I said to you that you couldn’t touch me.”

He clambers onto the bed and sits cross-legged.

“Anastasia, I’ve told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life you don’t want that shit in your head. Why would you?”

“Because I want to know you better.”

“You know me well enough.”

“How can you say that?” I struggle up onto my knees, facing him.

He rolls his eyes at me, frustrated.

“You’re rolling your eyes. Last time I did that, I ended up over your knee.”

“Oh, I’d like to put you there again.”

Inspiration hits me.

“Tell me and you can.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re bargaining with me?” His voice resonates with astonished disbelief.

I nod. Yes... this is the way.

“Negotiating.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Anastasia.”

“Okay. Tell me, and I’ll roll my eyes at you.”

He laughs, and I get a rare glimpse of carefree Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. I’ve not seen him for a while. He sobers.

“Always so keen and eager for information.” His gray eyes blaze with speculation.

After a moment, he gracefully climbs off the bed. “Don’t go away,” he says and exits the room.

Trepidation lances through me, and I hug myself. What’s he doing? Does he have some evil plan? Crap. Suppose he returns with a cane, or some weird kinky implement? Holy shit, what will I do then? When he does return, he’s holding something small in his hands. I can’t see what it is, and I’m burning with curiosity.

“When’s your first interview tomorrow?” he asks softly.

“Two.”

A slow wicked grin spreads across his face.

“Good.” And before my eyes, he subtly changes. He’s harder, intractable... hot. This is Dominant Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

“Get off the bed. Stand over here.” He points to beside the bed, and I scramble up and off in double-quick time. He stares intently down at me, his eyes glittering with promise. “Trust me?” he asks softly.

I nod. He holds out his hand, and in his palm are two round, shiny, silver balls, linked with a thick black thread.

“These are new,” he says emphatically.

I look questioningly up at him.

“I am going to put these inside you, and then I’m going to spank you, not for punish ment, but for your pleasure and mine.” He pauses, gauging my wide-eyed reaction.

Inside me! I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. My inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils.

“Then we’ll fuck, and if you’re still awake, I’ll impart some information about my formative years. Agreed?”

He’s asking my permission! Breathlessly, I nod. I’m incapable of speech.

“Good girl. Open your mouth.”

Mouth?

“Wider.”

Very gently, he puts the balls in my mouth.

“They need lubrication. Suck,” he orders, his voice soft.

The balls are cold, smooth, surprisingly heavy, and metallic tasting. My dry mouth pools with saliva as my tongue explores the unfamiliar objects. Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome’s gray gaze does not leave mine. Holy hell, this is turning me on. I squirm slightly.

“Keep still, Anastasia,” he warns.

“Stop.” He tugs them from my mouth. Moving toward the bed, he throws the duvet aside and sits down on the edge.

“Come here.”

I stand in front of him.

“Now turn round, bend down, and grasp your ankles.”

I blink at him, and his expression darkens.

“Don’t hesitate,” he admonishes me softly, an undercurrent in his voice, and he pops the balls in his mouth.

Fuck, this is sexier than the toothbrush. I follow his orders immediately. Jeez, can I touch my ankles? I find I can, with ease. The t-shirt slides up my back, exposing my be hind. Thank heavens I have retained my panties, but I suspect I won’t for long.

He places his hand reverently on my backside and very softly caresses it with his whole hand. With my eyes open, I can see his legs through mine, nothing else. I close my eyes tightly as he gently moves my panties to the side and slowly runs his finger up and down my sex. My body braces itself in a heady mix of wild anticipation and arousal. He slides one finger inside me, and he circles it deliciously slowly. Oh, it feels good. I moan.

His breathing halts, and I hear him gasp as he repeats the motion. He withdraws his finger and very slowly inserts the objects, one slow, delicious ball at a time. Oh my. They’re body temperature, warmed by our collective mouths. It’s a curious feeling. Once they’re inside me, I can’t really feel them but then again I know they’re there.

He straightens my panties and leans forward, and his lips softly kiss my behind.

“Stand up,” he orders, and shakily I get to my feet.

Oh! Now I can feel them... sort of. He grasps my hips to steady me while I re-estab lish my equilibrium.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice stern.

“Yes.” My answer is feather soft.

“Turn round.” I turn and face him.

The balls pull downward and involuntarily I clench around them. The feeling startles me but not in a bad way.

“How does that feel?” he asks.

“Strange.”

“Strange good or strange bad?”

“Strange good,” I confess, blushing.

“Good.” There’s a trace of humor lurking in his eyes.

“I want a glass of water. Go and fetch one for me please.”

Oh.

“And when you come back, I shall put you across my knee. Think about that, Anas tasia.”

Water? He wants water now why?

As I leave the bedroom, it becomes abundantly clear why he wants me to walk around as I do, the balls weigh down inside me, massaging me internally. It’s such a weird feel ing and not entirely unpleasant. In fact, my breathing accelerates as I stretch up for a glass from the kitchen cabinet, and I gasp. Oh my... I may have to keep these. They make me needy, needy for sex.

He’s watching me carefully when I return.

“Thank you,” he says as he takes the glass from me.

Slowly, he takes a sip then places the glass on his bedside table. There’s a foil packet, ready and waiting, like me. And I know he’s doing this to build the anticipation. My heart has picked up a beat. He turns his bright gray gaze to mine.

“Come. Stand beside me. Like last time.”

I sidle up to him, my blood thrumming through my body, and this time... I’m excited. Aroused.

“Ask me,” he says softly.

I frown. Ask him what?

“Ask me,” his voice is slightly harder.

What? How was your water? What does he want?

“Ask me, Anastasia. I won’t say it again.” And there’s such a threat implicit in his words, and it dawns on me. He wants me to ask him to spank me.

Holy shit. He’s looking at me expectantly, his eyes growing colder. Shit.

“Spank me, please... Sir,” I whisper.

He closes his eyes momentarily, savoring my words. Reaching up, he grasps my left hand and he tugs me over his knees. I fall instantly, and he steadies me as I land in his lap.

My heart is in my mouth as his hand gently strokes my behind. I’m angled across his lap again so that my torso rests on the bed beside him. This time he doesn’t throw his leg over mine, but smoothes my hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. Once he’s done, he clasps my hair at the nape to hold me in place. He tugs gently and my head shifts back.

“I want to see your face while I spank you, Anastasia,” he murmurs, all the while softly rubbing my backside.

His hand moves down between the cheeks of my behind, and he pushes against my sex, and the full feeling is... I moan. Oh, the sensation is exquisite.

“This is for pleasure, Anastasia, mine and yours,” he whispers softly.

He lifts his hand and brings it down in a resounding slap against the junction of my thighs, my behind, and my sex. The balls are forced forward inside me, and I’m lost in a quagmire of sensation. The stinging across my behind, the fullness of the balls inside me, and the fact that he’s holding me down. I screw my face up as my faculties attempt to absorb all these foreign feelings. I note somewhere in my brain that he’s not smacked me as hard as last time. He caresses my backside again, trailing his palm across my skin and over my underwear.

Why’s he not removed my panties? Then his palm disappears, and he brings it down again. I groan as the sensation spreads. He starts a pattern: left to right and then down.

The down ones are the best. Everything moving forward, inside me... and in between each smack he caresses me, kneads me so I am massaged inside and out. It’s such a stimulat ing, erotic feeling, and for some reason, because this is on my terms, I don’t mind the pain.

It’s not painful as such well it is, but not unbearable. It’s somehow manageable, and yes pleasurable... even. I groan. Yes, I can do this.

He pauses as he slowly peels my panties down my legs. I writhe on his legs, not be cause I want to escape the blows, but I want... more, release, something. His touch against my sensitized skin is all sensuous tingle. It’s overwhelming, and he starts again. A few soft slaps then building up, left to right and down. Oh, the downs, I groan.

“Good girl, Anastasia,” he groans, and his breathing is ragged.

He spanks me twice more, and then he pulls at the small threads attached to the balls and jerks them out of me suddenly. I almost climax the feeling is out of this world. Mov ing swiftly, he gently turns me over. I hear rather see the rip of the foil packet, and then he’s lying beside me. He seizes my hands, hoists them over my head, and eases himself onto me, into me, sliding slowly, filling me where the silver globes have been. I groan loudly.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers as he moves back, forward, a slow sensual tempo, savoring me, feeling me.

It is the most gentle he has ever been, and it takes no time at all for me to fall over the edge, spiraling into a delicious, violent, exhausting, orgasm. As I clench around him, it ig nites his release, and he slides into me, stilling, gasping out my name in desperate wonder. “Ana!”

He’s silent and panting on top of me, his hands still entwined in mine above my head. Finally, he leans back and stares down at me.

“I enjoyed that,” he whispers, and then kisses me sweetly.

He doesn’t linger for more sweet kisses, but rises, covers me with the duvet, and disap pears into the bathroom. On his return he’s carrying a bottle of white lotion. He sits beside me on the bed.

“Roll over,” he orders, and begrudgingly I move on to my front.

Honestly, all this fuss. I feel very sleepy.

“Your ass is a glorious color,” he says approvingly, and he tenderly massages the cool ing lotion into my pink behind.

“Spill the beans, Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome,” I yawn.

“Miss Steele, you know how to ruin a moment.”

“We had a deal.”

“How do you feel?”

“Short changed.”

He sighs, slides in beside me, and pulls me into his arms. Careful not to touch my stinging behind, we are spooning again. He kisses me very softly beside my ear.

“The woman who brought me into this world was a crack-whore, Anastasia. Go to sleep.”

Holy fuck... what does that mean?

“Was?”

“She’s dead.”

“How long?”

He sighs.

“She died when I was four. I don’t really remember her. Carrick has given me some details. I only remember certain things. Please go to sleep.”

“Goodnight, Doug Dimmadome, Owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.”

“Goodnight, Ana.”

And I slip into a dazed and exhausted sleep, dreaming of a four-year-old, gray-eyed boy in a dark, scary, miserable place.