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aardrinn · 4 years ago

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OH!!! TELL US ABOUT THE FOR SHADOWING BIT PLEASE? If your cool with it lmao! I either missed it completely or I read it and didn't process it, so I'm truely curious as to what you did!

Oh, gosh, absolutely!

So, for Jazz and Prowl bonding, I had to do a lot of what I like to describe as structural foreshadowing! Basically, because this is an alien species, I had to do a couple of things before I could even begin to handle them bonding:

1) I needed to make it clear to everyone what bonding was

2) I needed to establish what sort of relationships could lead to bonding

3) I needed to establish what the benefits and effects of bonding were

Originally, Ratchet and Ironhide were going to be romantically entangled but not bonded (way way back in the beginning) but I realized pretty early on how I wanted Jazz and Prowl to wind up bonded - the scene in the cells was something I was planning since… the second fic, I think? Before The Kill, for sure. I didn’t have all of the details ironed out, but I knew I wanted them to bond before writing the whole romance.

So, because I already had plans for Ironhide, I transferred Ratchet’s affections over to Wheeljack, and had them be conjunxed! That gave me another character to round out the Praxus team, and also gave me a chance to introduce the idea of a bonded couple.

Then there are Red Alert and Inferno, who are sort of a mirror of Jazz and Prowl’s relationship in that they build each other up. Unlike Ratchet and Wheeljack, who are very similar, Red Alert and Inferno complement by contrasting - Inferno balances out Red’s issues, and Red has his genius that pulls Inferno along. It let me introduce the idea that Jazz might be able to balance Prowl’s processor issues, which was a smaller thing, but it also provided more framing for their eventual relationship.

Then there’s Mirage and Hound - two very functional mechs doing a job very similar to what Jazz and Prowl will! They let me introduce mutual mortality (the fact that one bondmate dying kills the counterpart) and also the whole spark-bond communication thing. They also introduced touching sparks as being a core component of it, without making it explicit! With them, we had previewed several types of intimacy that could lead to bonding, had established that bonding probably has something to do with sparkmerging, and that bondmates could influence each other’s systems, speak using their sparkbonds, and die if their bondmate does.

From there, I needed to make it clear that Jazz and Prowl were compatible in terms of sparkbonding! Basically, I needed to make it clear that their was

1) Potential for mutual interest

2) Mutual trust sufficient for one character to bare their spark to the other

3) A sequence of events that would put the two in a situation where bonding made sense

Part 1 was easy - just… write a romance. Shower scenes, cleaning up after a battle, ect - but I also included scenes where the pair were allowing each other into their lives. Jazz stood up to Ratchet for Prowl - Prowl let Jazz help him write his brother. Jazz took Prowl out for pastries - Prowl let Jazz crash on his couch. Little intimate moments, nothing explicitly romantic because that would have spoiled the rushedness of it, but the sort of small, close things you share with a person you

TRUST. This was the big one, because you can’t write something like two people entering a suicide pact without them trusting each other. All throughout the story, Jazz is upfront with Prowl. Unless I missed something early on, there shouldn’t be any point where he outright lies to him - he admits the fuel is drugged; he tells him he isn’t there to kill him, he says outright that he plans to kill Feldspar. He’s an assassin, but an honest one. Not only that, though: he repeatedly proves that he isn’t just helping Prowl to feel good about himself; he wants to help. He listens when Prowl says that he’s going to get mechs killed. He puts himself at physical risk to protect someone important to Prowl. When Prowl is hurting (because of him!) he carefully helps him recover, and apologises for lashing out.

Meanwhile, Prowl is proving his trustworthiness, too. He doesn’t betray Jazz - not early on, when he’s figured it out himself, and not later, when he knows about Ratchet and could ruin both of their lives. Even when Jazz is most suspicious of him, Prowl’s intentions wind up being benevolent - he never uses his authority to force Jazz, and he puts Bumblebee’s life before his own dignity and begs Jazz for help. And then, when Jazz offers him a huge show of trust by letting him slave his systems over, he does exactly what was promised, and no more.

So with that, all of the ingredients are in the pot, so to speak. Now it’s just a matter of setting up the stage - Prowl in the first cell, so Jazz has to be walked by, giving them an opportunity; Mirage being unwilling to clarify that they won’t be killed, giving them impetus; Prowl having information that they want, giving him a reason to believe that Ops wants him alive; Jazz having heard Mirage threaten to have Prowl killed, giving him a reason to take an extreme step. Add in the big advantages bonding buys them with regards to not being able to execute just one of them, plus unlimited, confidential communication, shake it up, write a couple of classy lines where Jazz snarls “Yes!” and you’ve got a bonding twenty chapters in the making.

In terms of more explicit foreshadowing… In one chapter I literally wrote that the only way that they were going to have to get obliviously fake-conjunxed before they realized they loved each other :D But mostly it was the constant implication, in the chapters leading up to things, that Jazz and Prowl would do any dumb thing if they thought it would protect the other one - Jazz willingly getting captured by Mirage, and Prowl’s grinding determination during his interrogations.

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Basically, to make a long post short - IMO good foreshadowing isn’t an explicit thing so much as a looming inevitability. You don’t need all of the details down before you start - god knows I basically just had “they panic-bond in Mirage’s custody” when I started - but you need an end goal to build towards. Then it’s just a matter of taking slow steps towards that - basically, you want to shape your reader’s understanding of the situation enough that, by the time it happens, the outcome seems like a natural progression.

You don’t need it to be something easy to guess, though - no one seems to have seen them bonding coming, and that surprise is very much what I wanted, since it was going to be the bubble of stress bursting on a series of tense chapters. Like in an old comic - “with no rescue in sight for our heroes, they’re forced to take drastic measures -” :D It just needs to feel, when it happens, like it makes sense, like it’s the story coming to a climax rather than something out of place.

And then - well, it was a narrative twist, so it forced a bunch of pieces out of place, and set up a bunch more, and the next many, many chapters were spent dealing with the fallout, but that’s a whole ‘nother giant text post to get into.

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Hopefully that makes sense? It’s very late and I am very tired, so sorry if it doesn’t, and feel free to poke me if there are any bits you want to ask about or that don’t make sense :D also it’s been a long time since I finished this so i’ve forgotten a bunch of the specifics :D

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spine-buster · 5 years ago

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Alone, Together | Chapter 9 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Mmmkay, so I was half-way done writing this chapter and I realized I read their schedule wrong and it turns out they were on a pretty long road trip (Chicago > Dallas > Detroit > Washington) the entirety of Thanksgiving and the week following. Soooo for the purposes of this fic we are gonna pretend they came home from the Chicago game. I try to make everything I write as accurate as possible (especially in terms of their schedule) so I apologize. But this shit is cute and I didn’t want to have to re-jig everything around.

Warning: smut ahead.

When Morgan awoke on Monday, Thanksgiving morning, his legs sore from the game last night in Chicago and his equilibrium still off due to the late flight and the time change, he expected to roll over and come face to face with Briony. Instead, he came face to face with nothing; a cold, empty side of the bed without her warmth.

It took him a while to wake up. He was notorious for it. During his rookie year, he made a deal with Jake Gardiner that Jake would have to drive to the arena in the mornings, but he would drive them everywhere else, since they only had one car. It was that bad. He’d tried to improve it over the years, even going so far as to try and maintain a proper sleeping schedule, but nothing worked. And so as he tried to wake himself up mentally, he started to think about the only thing that had been on his mind lately, besides hockey: Briony McTavish.

Morgan had asked Briony to be there on Sunday night – to sleep over so that when he came home, she’d be there, in his bed – and she readily agreed. He knew she was thinking it was more for the Thanksgiving feast she had to cook the next day, but selfishly, he just wanted her there so he’d have her to wake up to in the morning. To be able to wake up next to her was a luxury that he wanted all the time.

After his first encounter with Briony at Green Cactus, after she approached him about that drink being sent to her table and they ended up having their dinners together, he had texted Jake Gardiner. ‘I met a girl.’ That’s all he had to text him. The next time Morgan spoke with him, it was all they talked about. He’d hung with Briony more since then, and he wanted to tell Jake all about her. Jake’s reaction was ‘If she’s willing to go out with you even though you smell so bad make sure you do everything in your power to keep her around.’

Everybody had always commented on how much of a level headed person Morgan was. In life, in hockey, in pretty much everything – people considered it his best trait. He didn’t overreact about much. He always thought about things a lot – some would say too much – before he made any decisions, especially big decisions that would affect his life drastically. Everybody had also always commented on how he liked to be alone. Sure, he liked hanging out with his friends, especially his teammates, and these days when he was back in Vancouver for the summers he was more social than usual, but even his mom had commented on his affinity for being alone growing up. The way she phrased it once was perfect to him: “You like to be alone, but not lonely.”

It was for these reasons, however, that his complete descent into the adoration of Briony McTavish made the most yet least sense to him. He couldn’t get enough of her. At all. The way her hair fell down her back. The way she would put it into twists or buns or French braids. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about what she was learning or what she was reading. The way her clothes hugged her curves. The way her hands held pens. The way her fingers danced along keyboards. The way she giggled when she was giddy. The way she laughed with her whole body. The way she laughed so hard she snorted, then laughed even harder. The way she sipped wine. The way she cut onions and garlic and poured olive oil into a saucepan to start a meal. The way she adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. The way she didn’t assume anything. The way she was honest about everything in her life, past and present. The way she carried herself with such dignity and grace. The way she knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. The way she communicated her wants and needs. The way she looked under him, panting as she moaned his name. The way she looked on top of him as she straddled him and rode him in bed. The way she looked cuddled up against him on the couch underneath a blanket with a bowl of extra buttery popcorn. Everything about her.

He was in deep already. He acknowledged that they only met in late July. He acknowledged that it had only been a couple of months since they met. And he acknowledged that she hadn’t gotten a true taste of the hockey world or hockey schedule, and that yes, it could be too much for her and she could decide she didn’t want to go through it – but he was completely ready, willing, and able to carry this on for however long she let him; however long she allowed him, an athlete, to be in her life, one so full of promise and potential.

It was madness. But nothing had ever felt so natural in his life besides hockey.

But he was in so deep he kept finding it harder and harder to ‘not put a label on it’ and ‘take it slow’. He’d agreed initially because, well, she could have told him he had to walk on hot coals everyday and he would have said yes. But it was getting harder for him to hide his emotions. It was getting harder to seem like he didn’t care about being together, about making it official, about putting a label on it. And he could only wonder, after their many stays at each other’s places, after spending so much time together, after agreeing to prepare a Thanksgiving feast for him and his friends…he could only wonder if it was getting hard for her, too.

The only snag in all of this – and he never thought he’d say this – was hockey. Not the sport itself. No. The sport itself was beautiful. It was magic. It was the best sport in the world and nobody could ever convince him otherwise. It was the hockey media. It was the intense pressure. It was everybody around him knowing who he was every given moment of the day, wherever he went. On most days, he just wanted to be left the fuck alone. When he was with a girl, he really wanted to be left the fuck alone. With Briony, he wanted to just keep her in a cabin in the damn woods so nobody would see her with him.

To protect her. To make sure she didn’t get hurt.

As he finally managed to roll himself out of bed, he walked into his ensuite washroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. He also put on a shirt, thinking it was probably unhygienic to be in a kitchen without a shirt on. Maybe if he texted Auston a picture of himself near the turkey shirtless, he wouldn’t come anymore, and he and Briony would have the day to themselves. He could only dream.

When he walked out of his bedroom, he saw Briony buzzing around the kitchen, heaps of food scattered around the countertops and on the island. Potatoes were in one area, veggies in another. She had already set the oven for 350 degrees, but looked like she was still preparing the turkey.

He snuck up behind her, as quiet as he could, before wrapping his arms around her from behind. She let out a small yelp at the sensation, not realizing he was there, of course. She looked back and he gave her a quick kiss to the temple. “G’morning,” he said, his voice still scraggly from sleep.

“You’re awake,” she said, rubbing his arm with one of her free hands.

“You’re not playing music,” he said.

“Hmm?”

He kissed her neck. “You always play music when you cook. You’re not playing music.”

She smiled. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Wouldn’t have cared,” he said. “It’s also nine in the morning. I shouldn’t be sleeping for this long.” He took a quick moment to look at the giant turkey in front of him. They bought one earlier in the week – a 12 pounder. It had basically been defrosting since. Briony checked up on it more than she did him this week. He saw that she had seasoned it, put some nice herbs on it. There was stuffing, at Auston’s late request. As if he wasn’t asking for enough already. “Turkey looks good,” he commented.

“You can’t tell your teammates how much butter is on this turkey,” she said in a worried tone. Morgan snorted at her admission. “I’m completely serious. There’s almost a stick of butter on this thing.”

“It’s our secret,” he said, giving her one last kiss on the neck before letting go of her body. “Do you need help with anything?” he asked, ready to lend a helping hand.

“I’m okay.”

“Briony.”

“Morgan, you know how I don’t like anybody else in the kitchen when I’m cooking,” she reminded him.

“Yeah but that’s for a dinner for two. This is a Thanksgiving meal for five. Four of them being hockey players,” he rationalized.

“I’ve managed my time,” she informed him. “I know exactly what I need to do and when I need to do it. I’ve even budgeted for a shower and getting ready before the boys come over. I’m good.”

Morgan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You sure, Bumblebee?” he used the nickname he’d given her opening night. She never said anything against it.

She nodded, standing on her toes to kiss him quickly. “Go take a shower. You smell.”

Tyler Ennis and his glorious mane of hair arrived first. He brought a bottle of wine with him (ever the cordial guest), and Morgan opened it immediately so they could enjoy it with the array of appetizers Briony had prepared: a charcuterie board, some cheeses, and homemade bruschetta. Briony got along with Tyler wonderfully – he had only signed to the Leafs this year, but Morgan took a quick liking to him and his personality in the locker room. Briony seemed to be taking a liking too, and his trademark sense of humour was in full effect as he chowed down on the meats and sipped his wine while he talked to her.

Fred came next. He brought another bottle of wine with him and informed them that Auston was on his way, too. The four ate their way through the charcuterie board and finished Tyler’s bottle of wine. Tyler told some great stories about growing up in Edmonton and making the NHL with his best friend. Fred told some funny stories about growing up in Denmark. Auston still hadn’t arrived.

The oven beeped loudly, signalling that the turkey was done. Morgan watched as Briony went to check on it, taking it out of the oven and removing the foil tent. He knew it had to sit for twenty minutes before it could be served. Auston still hadn’t shown up. He watched as she began to prep the platter for the turkey. Watched as she transferred it over carefully. Fred and Tyler were pretending not to look but the smell was too amazing to ignore. She began to take out all the sides she prepared from the warming oven – the mashed potatoes, the green beans, the corn, the carrots and other assorted vegetables. She started to make the gravy on the stove.

Morgan was getting antsy. If Fred said that Auston left the same time as he did but Fred was here first, then where the hell was Auston?

“Hey, do you have a sister?” Morgan heard Tyler ask Briony. “I gotta get me a nice girl who can do this.”

“Nah. I’m only and lonely,” she laughed. “You can always learn to cook a turkey yourself, Enzo.”

“Don’t give me logical answers to things, sweetheart. It makes my head hurt,” he remarked, causing Briony to laugh out loud.

Morgan took out his phone. He sent a quick series of texts to Auston.

Don’t you dare be late There’s a 12 pound turkey in the fucking oven Briony’s been slaving in the kitchen all fucking day If you’re late, I’m never going to forgive you

As if on cue, there was a buzz that came through to the condo, signalling his arrival. Morgan let him in immediately. When he looked towards Briony, she was already looking at him. “Auston’s finally here?” she asked. He nodded his head. “Okay good. I can start putting everything on the table,” she picked up the mashed potatoes and walked it over to the dining table. From the corner of his eye, Morgan noticed Fred staring at him with a grin on his face. Briony, too busy with handling on the food, didn’t notice the grin, or the little wink he gave Morgan, or the general energy he was passing, which was totally a ‘You’ve got it baaaaaaaad for this girl’.

When Auston appeared in the doorway he was carrying a large bouquet of flowers. Beautiful ones, too: roses and gerbera daisies and lilies, all mixed in with some greenery. Morgan watched as Briony’s eyes lit up as he handed them to her, and she looked at him asked, “Morgan, do you have a vase?”, but he was a single man, and single men don’t get flowers, so he didn’t have a vase, so Briony said she’d make due and plucked a couple of the gerbera daisies out of the bouquet, filled up a glass of water, cut the stems, and put them in the glass. She put the glass in the centre of the table. Fred bent over to smell them.

First all the sides went onto the table. Everybody sat down politely and Tyler rubbed his hands together in anticipation as Briony carried over the turkey. Auston even started clapping. As she set it down, she looked at everything on the table and smiled. “Bon appetite, y’all,” she said.

“WAIT!” Auston said, slapping Tyler’s hand away as it reached for the mashed potatoes. “We need to take a picture for the ‘gram.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Auston.”

“This is the first Canadian Thanksgiving where I’m not eating takeout Chinese food,” he said, standing up. “I’m documenting this whether you like it or not.”

“Let me take the picture,” Briony said, standing up again and taking Auston’s phone from him. “Teammates together for Thanksgiving. The fans will go wild.”

Once she took the picture, Tyler reached for the mashed potatoes again. “Okay, I’ve been waiting for this meal all day, so screw you guys but I’m calling dibs on half of the mashed potatoes.”

“Give me the beans,” Fred said.

“Who’s cutting the turkey?!” Auston worried.

“Are those carrots?”

Auston was the first to leave. He’d gotten a call, and the second he got it Morgan knew it was a girl by the way he looked at his phone. He’d spent the next fifteen minutes texting and eventually, he broke it to everybody that he called an Uber. Everybody called him out, but all he did was shrug his shoulders. Briony made sure to pack him a Tupperware full of leftovers. ‘Did you know Morgan and I bought this Tupperware together?’ he said to her, asking for more turkey. Briony commended him for being a responsible adult, but when he revealed he hadn’t used them yet, she smacked his arm.

Tyler left next. He’d helped clean up, loading the dishwasher and helping Briony with preparing the Tupperware containers to go home to Auston, Fred, and himself. For him, everything had to be covered in gravy. ‘You’re a fucking champ for doing this,’ he said to her, giving her a big kiss on the cheek and a hug before he walked out the door. He didn’t go for a booty-call, thankfully; he actually had an early morning appointment with one of the team’s trainers before they left for their next game in Dallas, and he wanted to get a decent amount of sleep.

Fred left last. He lingered a little bit too long for Morgan’s liking, but Morgan knew he was doing it on purpose. Fred had watched the entire night as Morgan made eyes at Briony and he wanted to torture Morgan for as long as possible. Fred knew Morgan was probably going to jump Briony as soon as he left, and he wanted to make him wait. Morgan wanted to kill him. He made a mental note for payback against him sometime in the near future.

The entire dinner went off without a hitch. Everyone laughed and shared stories and enjoyed the meal, and when Briony mentioned there was dessert – a homemade tiramisu – Tyler mentioned how he was in love and Auston unbuttoned his pants like an 80-year-old grandfather to “make more room”. Despite them being his teammates and despite Auston concocting this whole idea when they could have just ordered food, Morgan truly did enjoy himself, and it did feel like their own version of a family, as weird as that sounded. If he couldn’t be with his mom, dad, brother, and dog in Vancouver, then these were the people he’d want to spend the holiday with.

“Thank you so much for hosting us,” Fred smiled as he stood at the doorway, slipping on his shoes. “You’re a fantastic cook, Briony.” He looked behind her to where Morgan was standing, with a look on his face that could only be described as ‘Fucking finally’. “Thanks for having us over, Mo,” Fred smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Morgan said curtly. He was gracious and glad that everything went well but right now he just needed Fred to leave.

“When will I see you again, Briony?” Fred asked. Morgan wanted to punch him. Physically fight him right then and there. The smile that adorned Fred’s face wasn’t a polite one or because he was mentioning seeing Briony again; it was because he knew how much he was annoying and torturing Morgan.

“School is getting pretty busy, but I might make it to the game against St. Louis next Saturday. Depends on how much I get done,” Briony said.

“Awesome! Can’t wait,” he smiled. “Mo, you have your alarm set already?” he procrastinated.

Morgan was going to explode. “Yes Fredward. Have a good night.”

“You guys take care,” he winked, mostly at Morgan, before opening the door behind him.

Once it was closed, and once Morgan knew Fred had made his way down the hall, he looked at Briony. She was leaning against the door, looking up at the ceiling, her eyes closed. Taking in the moment. Breathing in and out. “That went well,” she whispered, almost to herself. She looked at him, finally. “Did you have fun?” He nodded his head. “And be honest. Was the food good?” He nodded his head again. She cocked her head to the side and look at him strangely. “Why’re you so quiet?”

“Just lookin’ at you,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “Just admiring you.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. When she saw the look in Morgan’s eyes, nothing that needed to be expressed in that moment could be said in words; it was only definable by actions. He moved forward to grab her face, giving her a deep kiss, which she reciprocated readily. They kissed for a while against the doorway, hot, steamy, wet kisses, like teenagers first learning how to make out and sticking their tongues down each other’s throats.

Eventually Morgan’s hands started their favourite activity: roaming along her body and grabbing at her flesh, lifting her shirt up and over her head. Exposing her black bra, Morgan dipped down and kissed his way towards her chest. His hands grabbed her ass, pushing her against him so he could lift her up to gain better access.

She didn’t understand what he was doing at first; she didn’t actually think he’d want to do such a thing. Despite still kissing him her mind wandered to being self-conscious about it despite him having already taken her shirt off. “Morgan…” she mumbled against his lips. His hands gripped even tighter. “I’m gonna be too heav--”

“Shut it,” he demanded, and she gave in and he picked her up and it was just a visceral reaction, her wrapping her legs around him as he gripped at her ass and held her up. She could feel him already hard underneath his pants. He took no time in kissing and nipping at the skin along her collarbone, and eventually, he carried her to his bedroom where they fell into the bed as a mess of tangled limbs.

His hands immediately went to her waist to unbutton her jeans, getting it done quickly and efficiently. “Mo…” she breathed out, her voice heavy. “Mo…”

He didn’t answer her; only continued to strip her of her jeans and throw them across the room. She grabbed at his shirt and slipped it over his head quickly, thinking if she was getting naked he needed to, too. He hooked his fingers into her underwear and slid them down her legs, throwing them in the same direction. His fingers immediately went to her core, feeling how wet she already was.

“Morgan,” she whined, the lower half of her body writhing at the sensation of his touch. His fingers found their way quickly between her folds. He dragged them up and down, teasing her.

“That feel good?” he asked, his voice husky as he watched her bite her lip. She nodded her head in response and that gave him permission to tease her even more. He started to rub circles with his thumb, which garnered another gasp and a grinding of her hips towards his hand. “You like when I touch you, don’t you.”

“Fuck Morgan, please,” she breathed out.

“Please what?” he applied the slightest bit of pressure before taking it away.

“Stop teasing me.”

“That’s no way to ask politely,” he slipped a finger along her core, but again only for a moment before taking it away again.

“Morgan.”

“What do you say?”

“Please stop teasing me.”

Her voice was so whiny he almost went crazy right then and there. Instead of slipping his finger in, he separated her legs even more before moving down the bed and giving her a quick lick of his tongue. She gasped in response, her hips rising from the bed, and he used his strong arms to settle her down. He continued to lap and suck at her wetness and all she could do was let out a string of expletives and his name. She couldn’t form a coherent thought. Not when he was making her feel the way he was. She tried to grind against his tongue, but the pressure he was applying to her hips in keeping her down made her unsuccessful; truthfully, the sensation of being able to move only slightly and relying on her pleasure coming mostly from him and his actions was a complete turn on.

He worked at it long and hard. He was spoiling her completely and they both knew it. He was down there having the time of his fucking life, like he hadn’t eaten for days and he was absolutely starved. He was steadfast in his effort and completely dedicated to making her feel the best she could. She thought maybe he was a wizard with his tongue. Maybe he was a deity or something. Because the way he was making her feel, she could have sworn she was seeing stars. She gripped at his hair and let out haggard breaths, unable to last much longer.

“Mo…Mo I’m so close,” she said, her voice still whiny despite her throat so dry from the amount of moaning she was doing. “Morgan…please…”

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he mumbled into her folds.

“Y-Yes…” her breath hitched in her throat. “It f-feels s-so good Morgan.”

“Then cum all over my face, baby.”

She lost it. Completely, utterly lost it. She tried to grind her hips again, but he continued to pin her down, and she was done for. The feeling washed over her and she screamed his name, writhing as much as she could under his pressure, squeezing his head between her thighs. But he didn’t stop. He kept at it, continuing the feeling, and wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She was losing count over how many. She lost herself completely.

Eventually it got to too much. There was pleasure and then there was overstimulation, and she felt like she was going to have a heart attack. She kept mumbling to stop, but she knew she wasn’t very convincing and he continued his actions. After one more wave of pleasure, she exerted enough pressure to lift her hips away from his pressure, squeezing her thighs around his head once more since his mouth still hadn’t moved from her core. “Mo…Morgan please…I’m going to have a fucking heart attack,” she breathed out.

When he finally let go, she looked down to see his face absolutely soaked, and she realized she was the fucking luckiest girl alive. He came up and began kissing her, and she could taste herself on his lips.

“Briony,” he said in between kisses.

“Mhm?” she was still unable to speak from earlier.

“Can I confess something?”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t take it slow anymore.”

She knew exactly what he meant. It was her words he was using, after all. “Yeah,” was the only thing she could muster.

“I’m not saying I’m gonna post you all over my Instagram. Far from it, actually. I’ll probably be even more protective. But I can’t…I don’t want to not put a label on this. You’re my girl. In every sense of the word, you’re my girl.”

She nodded her head. She was still feeling dizzy from earlier but she knew she wanted this. She knew this was something that was good for her. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay,” she nodded her head, bringing him down to kiss her again. Considering the situation, and considering she could still taste herself on his lips, she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re doing this because I’m in a vulnerable state right now,” she giggled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked nervously, pulling away slightly.

“You just sucked my soul out through my vagina and now you want me to call you my boyfriend. I see the game you’re playing.”

Morgan snorted. “Did you want me to stop sucking your soul out of your vagina?”

“NO,” she said quickly, giving him a look. “Don’t you ever utter those words again, Mr. Rielly.” He let her flip him over easily so he was lying down and she was straddling him. She reached over to the top drawer of his bedside table and took out a condom. Even though she was on the pill, he appreciated the extra precaution. He raised his head slightly to put his face between her breasts, capturing a nipple in his mouth. She ripped the packaging open and slid the condom on delicately, pumping him a few times before she rolled it on.

She guided him to her entrance and lowered herself onto him slowly. Though this was far from the first time they’d had sex, she always took it slow to adjust to his size. She figured it stroked Morgan’s ego a little bit, but she really did have to do it. “Fuck Briony,” he mumbled as she began to rock back and forth slowly. He always called her by her full name during sex; it was part of what got her off quickly, she thought. “You always feel so good for me. So fucking good.”

She smiled as she increased her pace, developing a steady rhythm as she rocked back and forth. His hands were everywhere, but mostly on her hips, guiding them back and forth, or trailing up towards her breasts. He propped himself on his elbows, giving him a bit of height to kiss her again and have his face in her breasts while she continued to ride him. Eventually he pulled her down so her chest was flush with his as he pumped in and out of her.

“Oh fuck Morgan,” she gasped, relishing the feeling. “Morgan…Morgan…”

“You like that, don’t you,” he mumbled before biting down on her neck lightly.

“Harder, Morgan.”

He practically growled, some sort of internal switch going off upon hearing her request. He wrapped his arm tightly around her body before flipping their bodies on the bed, so it was now her below him. He began pounding into her, burying his face into her neck, and between the pants, the moans, the screaming, and the squeaking of the bedframe from the sheer force, it wasn’t long before they both lost control. Briony came undone yet again, and even though it felt like the millionth time that night, it was just as good as the first – she wasn’t exactly complaining. Morgan, for his part, kept going for as long as he could, but the moment he felt her nails scratching his back, he was done for. Briony relished the feeling of him twitching inside of her, knowing that she was the one who did that to him, that she was the one who made him feel that way.

Morgan collapsed onto her gently, feeling completely spent, his cock still inside her as it softened. Her legs were still wrapped around his torso lazily. He felt like a blanket; a warm blanket completely enveloping her body, and she whimpered when he had to pull out and leave her to dispose of the condom.

When he finished, he cuddled back into her body, giving her a long, lingering kiss. “You’re fucking incredible. You know that?” his voice was worn out.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she chuckled slightly. “You make me feel so good, Morgan.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” he said, slipping a hand down in between them to feel her warm core. She jolted at the sensation, still so sensitive. “You’re always so fucking wet for me baby.”

“Always. Just for you,” she whispered.

“Fuck,” he kissed her again. “This road trip hasn’t even fucking started yet and I already want it to be over.”

Briony grumbled, upset at the reminder. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Morgan slipped his thigh in between her legs and she rubbed up against it briefly before he laid his head on her chest, just above her breasts. She began to play with his hair, running her fingers through it, before they both settled into a peaceful slumber.

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