#what if keith can not know peace

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

They’re not careless.

But they’re not careful, either.

They’ve never bothered discussing whether or not they’re trying to be discreet. It was always just the natural way they went about things. Their friends already have so much to worry about, so much to reckon with. It’s a waste of their limited time to sit them down and announce to them that they’re — what, sleeping together?

This is what Keith tells himself.

He sees the hurt in Lance’s eyes, when he flinches away from his touch. He knows it’s worse still because he is an instigator, because he is so fucking incapable of keeping his hands to himself. His palm will find the small of Lance’s back like a magnet to steel, his shoulder will soften itself so Lance can rest his head. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, half the time, doesn’t notice the way he seeks out Lance’s hand or crowds too close to him until he catches someone’s eye, watching them, and springs apart, flings Lance’s away from him like he’s been burned.

I love you.

Isn’t that reason enough?

In the morning Keith wakes up sweltering. In the back of his mind, as it always does, burns the skin-crawling feeling of being watched. There’s no one in the bedroom and he knows it, but shame runs down his spine anyway. Suddenly the blankets twisting his and Lance’s legs together are binding, and the press of their sweat-slick skin tigger is revolting, sticky. The nausea that churns lowly in his belly at all times bubbles infinitely more aggressively than usual, and Keith knows if he doesn’t extract himself immediately he’ll explode; chunks of him will hit the walls and his blood will paint the tile floor. He inches under his skin, bile coats the back of his throat, heart pounding so fast it’s a him.

A low, quiet quiet groaning noise startled the hell out of him. He looks over and Lance is shifting, sliding his arms out from under the pillow and turning slightly, so he’s facing Keith instead of the wall, hands curled into his chest and under his chin.

There’s a pillow crease steamed across his cheek, and his face is smushed by the pillow, forcing his lips to pucker.

Keith smiles.

The roaring in his head quiets somewhat. Without thinking he reaches out his hand, fingertips tracing the creased skin of Lance’s cheek so lightly he hardly touches with anything more than his callouses. His skin is warm to the touch, but not overly so.

Keith lets out a long, hard breath. His heart rate slows. He traces the pucker of Lance’s lip, feeling the curve of his cupid’s bow, noting the tiny scars from where Lance picks the skin when he’s bored or nervous.

Slowly, as if a string is pulling them together, Keith leans down. Somewhere between his pillow and Lance’s his eyes close, and the press of their lips is that much softer.

It should be gross. They both have morning breath, and minutes ago the thought of their bare skin touching made Keith want to throw up, but now the press of Lance’s chapped lips to his is addicting and calming and electrifying.

“Mmf.”

Lance stirs, groggy and half awake, but it’s — this is not the first time he’s woken to Keith’s closeness.

It takes him a few seconds to boot up, for his brain to catch up with the way his hands are already sliding up the back of Keith’s neck, tangling in his hair. Keith knows he’s awake when he feels the flutter of Lance’s absurdly long eyelashes against his cheekbones, when his mouth stretches into a grin too wide to kiss properly.

“Hi,” he mumbles happily. He keeps one hand on the base of Keith’s skull, letting the other one slide coyly down the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his chest, the line of hair under his navel, resting cheekily on the top of his waistband. Every brush of his fingers washes away the burn shame still lingering. “You’re touchy this morning.”

Keith hums. He presses his lips to the corner of Lance’s mouth, to his cheek, to his jaw, down his neck. His stubble must be too light on Lance’s skin because he laughs, airy, smacking his palm on Keith’s scapula. Keith snickers, rubbing his cheek harder along his neck just to make him shriek, revelling in the way Lance wraps his legs around his hips to try and flip him but can’t, the way he shoves and pinches but lets up the second Keith starts to suck a bruise on his collarbone.

He’s so easy.

“Keith,” Lance whines, but it’s breathy and Keith wants to swallow to sound. “Keith, we’re disgusting. Your breath stinks and if I don’t shower I’m going to hurt somebody. Probably you. Do you want me to hurt you?”

Keith reaches up, pressing Lance’s fingers deeper into the flesh of his shoulder, and lets his silence speak for him.

Lance snorts, and Keith knows he has him because he melts visibly. “You dog.”

The hand in Keith’s hair starts to move, combing through the tangled strands, scratching gently at his scalp. Keith doesn’t let up, but he softens in kind, letting his lips on Lance’s skin morph into something softer, more chaste.

“We can screw in the shower?” he offers, voice hopeful. “That’s a good compromise.”

It is a good compromise, but Keith is feeling bold (i love you isn’t that reason enough it’s physical you have ruined everyone you ever loved it’s physical it’s physical it’s physical), so he sets out to guarantee Lance will bend.

He pulls away from Lance’s neck, just slightly, and looks up from under his lashes, widening his eyes just so.

And watched with great pleasure as Lance crumbles.

He shoves Keith’s face away, red-cheeked and huffy, throwing off the covers and stomping to the ensuite. He grumbles all the way there, much of it too low for Keith to hear but much more of it loud and pointed and intentional (Keith knows what zorra means, thanks.)

“I want to actually shower,” Lance says sternly, water droplets flicking off his wagging finger and landing on Keith’s nose.

Keith nods sagely. “We will.”

“In decent time, Akira.”

“Of course.”

“I have stuff to do today.”

“Me too.”

“Minimal shenanigans.”

“Minute.”

The shower lasts well over an hour.

“Wipe the smirk off your face,” Lance demands, but his lips are twitching, too,

Keith grabs him by the waist and dips him, laughing, kissing him soundly and wholly and he wonders what the fuck is his problem. He wonders why he has to be so goddamn resistant to things, why he works himself up so bad, why any of that shit matters. Why can’t he have this? Why can’t he have — one good thing, the one; why can’t he have Lance’s gun-calloused palms on his cheeks and smile pressed to his and deep dark brown eyes warm and pretty and happy and pointed at him? Why can’t he have that? Why can’t things be good and simple, why can’t this be something he can fall into?

I love you.

Isn’t that reason enough?

He’s not careless. He can’t afford to be.

But he’s — loosened. His guard is down. They get dressed and ready for the day and Keith follows Lance out their door and he’s laughing, and his hand is curled around the curve of his waist, and they smell of the same shampoo.

“Does it amuse you to make me late for things, you jackass — oh! Hunk!”

Keith inhales sharp and short. He yanks his hand away like it hurts to keep it there for a second longer, stumbling backwards.

“Hey, guys.”

Something tight and painful coils in his stomach, and his blood turns to lead. Hunk’s expression is carefully, carefully pleasant; soft, even, as he returns Lance’s hug and greeting.

But the pinprick at the back of his neck is back. The shame, hot, crawls down his spine, blooms heavy in the hollow of his chest.

“I’m gonna go — train,” he chokes out, hyperaware of the bruise on Lance’s neck, of the cobweb in the corner of his room, the braid in Keith’s hair; hyperaware of Hunk’s eye on them.

“Aw,” Lance pouts. “You sure?”

Keith can’t manage a verbal response. His throat has closed, aching, dry, desolate. He barely manages a nod.

“We’ll see you at dinner?” Hunk asks, only there’s no request in his voice, and Keith doesn’t miss how his body has curved, slightly; just barely nudging Lance behind him, as if he is to be protected, as if he is to be protected from Keith.

I love you.

You have ruined everything you have ever loved.

Isn’t that reason enough?

Physical, physical, physical.

Keith turns and flees.

[shatterinseconds]

“Baby,” Lance says.

Keith snorts, loud and uncaring. “God no, not in a million years.”

“Alright.” Lance scratches out a line on his pad of paper. “Does that mean babe’s out too?”

Keith wrinkles his nose. “It’s not the best but tolerable.”

“We’ll note that as a strong maybe.” In which Lance actually does mark down a quick note to the side of the list, and Keith catches himself from rolling his eyes.

For the past week, they’ve been staying at Lance’s family home in Cuba while they decide on their next steps in a post Voltron, post war world. They rest on the back patio, facing the backyard that really extends into open land far beyond them, neighbors a mile away at least. It’s quiet and beautiful and even when the commotion of Lance’s entire family is present, it’s one of Keith’s new favorite places in the world. They watch Lance’s niece and nephew for the afternoon while Lance’s older brother runs errands and Lance’s mother prepares dinner.

Keith angles his head closer to Lance, though he’s still mostly blocked by the small table between them, and gestures to the list. “Is this really necessary?”

“Pet names are important to me,” Lance replies with a quirk to the corner of his mouth. The summer breeze, fresh off the ocean and carrying a thin taste of salt, curls through his brown hair. “Mullet is great but I need at least one more that’s affectionate.”

Keith scrunches his nose.

The thing is, all of this is new to Keith. The peace, the stability, having a permanent place to call home again, and… their relationship. They’ve been dancing around each other for years, as their teammates love to complain about, but officially being together, having the ability to call Lance his partner, boyfriend, lover? That all happened less than a couple weeks ago—and yet it already feels timeless.

Seeing Keith’s reluctance, Lance stands to relocate himself on Keith’s lap, settling his full weight on Keith’s thighs. Keith glares, though he moves his hands onto Lance’s hips and his fingers wiggle under Lance’s loose shirt to hunt for warm patches of skin. Lance tugs on his ears, guiding Keith to tilt his head and capture his mouth in a soft kiss. 

And what a lovely kiss it is.

“I’m trying to be nice by giving you a choice.” Lance laughs a little when they break apart, only to lean back down. He stops a hair’s breadth away from Keith’s mouth. When he speaks again, his breath drifts over Keith’s lips, a soft caress. “What about sweetheart, honey bunches, pickle?”

“Okay, now these are just getting ridiculous.” Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist, pulling him closer, and buries his nose into the crook of Lance’s neck.

“I don’t know,” Lance mutters, starting to absently play with Keith’s hair, twirling the long strands around his fingers. “I’m kinda partial to sweetheart.”

“Yeah, that’s not bad,” Keith admits as a faint blush rises on his pale cheeks. He tries to bury his face deeper to cover it, but he should’ve guessed how well that would work out.

A shit-eating grin stretches wide across Lance’s face; Keith can feel it against the side of his head. “I see we’ve found our winner.” Humming, Lance leans down toward Keith’s ear. “Sweetheart.”

Face glowing and mind reeling, Keith shoves Lance off his lap. “Shut up,” he lightly growls, mortified at his own reaction.

Lance arches his head back as he cackles from his spot on the ground, eventually flopping down and pillowing his head with his hands as he lazily stares up at Keith. That shit-eating grin refuses to fall off his face. “Yeah, this is going to be fun.”

And despite Keith’s own face remaining beet red, he can’t help but smile too.

[atiianeishaunted]

blue writing is lance's notes fyi anyway uhh character bios below !! long ass writing warning but worth it i promise chat pspsp | no notes version AND the transparent PNGS down at the end!

character bios:

Allura [???] | A lone princess who is burnt out and stressed out her mind, her only solace/stress relief being the garden she has where she can have peace and quiet, shutting her brain off while she does the tasks of tending to her precious plants and bugs. She tries her best to remain as friendly and optimistic as possible, if not for her own sanity, however thanks to the stress and pressure put on her, she has a tendency to lose her cool and sometimes shut down entirely. She has a passion for commanding and loves honing her fighting skills as that was one of the ways she bonded with her father. She more often than not can be seen in comfortable clothes, she doesnt mind dresses and does enjoy dressing up but will only do it when shes going out the castle or theres a meeting. | this gal couldve been an burnt out autistic queen DREAMWORKS, YOU COUDLVE MADE HER ICONIC .... let her be a dorky nerd whos a hater sometimes, pretty please

Takashi Shirogane | A garrison commander (no one is really sure of his job title to be honest with you..) who's insanely passionate about his job, to the point where hes willing to sacrifice it all if the garrison wills it. Anything to serve. He tries his best to fit in and be hip with the kids, he tries to come across as the 'chill' teacher, but students of his have reported that after a few months, any amount of chillness is thrown out the window. If not that, hes often not even in class, too busy doing missions he wasnt assigned to. He's intense. Very intense. Knows his way around words though for the most part, can be very convincing and a bit maniuplative, very goal driven. He means well though? Thats what he says. He always throws a quick sorry if someone brings it up with him, so that must mean something. | sorry in advance if you follow along with Sonder's story... unrelated but dreamworks wrote a banger antagonist without even realizing!

"Keith" Kogane / "Morse" | Unknown origins. He was a talented garrison pilot who could practically fly with his eyes closed, a jack of all trades, short tempered and prone to losing it but all things considered, the perfect cadet for the garrison's goals, he came out of nowhere practically, just poofed in like a ghost and wiped the floor with everyone. He really just needed a good guiding hand. No one is quite sure what gender he is, his androgynous appearance and tendency to respond to anything besides being called a girl have people baffled to say the least. He's very clearly not all there in the head either which goes hand in hand with his odd bursts of ego and then odd bursts of whining, these bursts often include talks that could only be described as cult-ish. People have their theories. Beyond those bursts, hes mostly very deadpan and quiet. But despite his strength and that intense feeling of fear and dread people get when they're around him, he's.. popular, somehow. Admired greatly for his devilish good looks. A universal appeal if you will. He doesn't seem to notice. Or perhaps doesnt care. Either way he's far too busy following Shiro around and treating him like the second coming of god to really indulge in romance for now. Lance's self proclaimed rival, Keith is also unaware of this. | also sorry in advance for this one if you follow sonder's storyline Lance McClain | A former Garrison cargo pilot who moved up in rank when Keith got kicked out. Keith is his rival and also all that Lance can talk about, even after the guy got kicked out and left for dead (Lance overheard some things while sneaking out past the teacher's lounge). He has a very noticable personality and loves to be the center of attention, hes still finding his footing and figuring out what he wants to do with his life and who he wants to be. Despite his many claims, hes not all that popular. He can't really flirt with girls all too well. His general goal is to be so well known so he won't ever be forgotten, hence why he begged his mom to let him dye his hair and get piercings (if he used Keith as an argument, thats none of your business.) (he saw keith dying his hair once or twice and instantly wanted to copy, its a bad habit.). He loves LOVES taking care of his appearance and is fairly vain, he has extensive routines and will freak out if he can't follow them. His ego and overbearing confidence is all to drown out his deep insecurities and fears. He tries his best to come across as a suave, cool, charming, awesome, any positive adjective really, person but in all reality he's a mama's boy, a dork, a loser if you will who has a love for the retro and is a huge gamer. If he must admit, he and Keith'd get along great actually, Keith ticks alot of boxes and honestly Lance deeply admires him and wants to be like him. | dreamworks dropped that lance was a gamer and loved retro stuff and then never talked about it again. sigh. Hunk Garrett | Hunk has many passions, mainly inspired by parents, he mainly specializes in cooking and mechanics, he enjoys tinkering with things, taking them apart to see how they work and working from there to see if he can rebuild it with 0 instruction, hes gotten good at it. He's Lance's childhood best friend, they're extremely close and are often seen constantly poking fun at eachother. Its all in good fun though. Hunk struggles extremely with anxiety and has a service dog back home that he left at home when heading to the Garrison as he worried he couldn't take care of it while studying. Despite his anxiety, he quite enjoys talking to people and sharing things he enjoys with them, he often tries to get over his fears by branching out and | I looked up his name from the old show because he deserves an 'actual' name, free my boy, he was done so dirty, also i remember when we all thought hunk had two moms (or was that just me ..) and i live by it tbh, two moms and a dad whos still active in his life, 3 whole parents for the greatest fella ever

Pidge Holt | Not much can be said about Pidge, they keep to themselves and don't share much about themselves. Just like Keith, their gender is often up to debate and when asked, Pidge will never give a consistent answer. They're a major tech wiz and with their talents, they're a complete menace. Pidge is prone to being mischevious and pranking others, often taking jokes a bit too far. They're egotistical and find that robots are their preferred companions in comparison to humans. | loser chronically online 13 year old who would tell you to kys, matt probably has to take away their electronics all the time LMFAO purposely made their outfit look a bit strange bc , theyre a kid whos a NERD /aff let them dress a bit stupid and let them cringe at it 5 years later ty

No notes version and PNGS below :-)

im insane about this reboot!! please reblog and im willing to elaborate if anyone wants me to <333 hrgfhrfg i really want this to take off bwaa

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Keith: When did you get home? Levi: Hours ago. Keith: Well, your mom ordered takeout again.. there should be enough. Keith: Tofu poke bowls, yum. Levi: I don’t like tofu; it hurts my stomach. Keith: Can’t you just eat around it-.. keep the peace? … Keith: It’s almost maxed out, is all. Tiffany: It was mom’s idea! Nadia: Did you expect us to go to a thrift store?! Tiffany: If I turned up in the same clothes as last year everyone would laugh at me! Fashion doesn’t stand still, daddy. Keith: Why don’t you wear a uniform anymore? Tiffany: You don’t have to when you’re in sixth form-.. you never pay attention! Keith: You better not need anything for school, Levi. Levi: I don’t. Nadia: We’ll see about that later-.. did you have fun on your little trip? Levi: Uh-huh. Nadia: More fun than being here? Levi: Never. Nadia: [tuts] Rolling around in the muck all week, how on earth is that a vacation? I hope you haven’t brought anything disgusting home with you-.. you wore your flipflops in the shower, didn’t you? Levi: Duh.. everything’s already in the wash too. … Nadia: Honestly, Levi.. how have you not grown an inch all summer? Levi: You should be grateful you don’t have to buy me anything! Nadia: [tuts] You’re going to be short like your father, aren’t you? Levi: Can I go to Penny’s now? Nadia: Tomorrow. Levi: You said I could go after dinner! Nadia: Well, I don’t have any money for the bus and your father still hasn’t paid the mechanics at that filthy garage. Levi: So, what.. they’re holding the car as ransom? Nadia: I suppose so. Levi: I’ll just go on my bike. Nadia: Don’t be silly, it’s far too late! Lord only knows what type of people roam the streets around here at this time. Levi: It’s seven o’ clock, mom. … TEXTING PENNY: don’t come running to see me will u sorry, mom’s being a bitch again… that excuse is getting pretty old, levi.. why don’t you sneak out? it’s not worth it wow ok i didn’t mean it like that don’t bother then

[redroomreflections]

Gentle Hands Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha suspects Reader is in an abusive relationship and tries to convince her to leave

4/10

W/c: 4.1k

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Warning: Domestic violence

Note: i see yall like this

“The Avengers are aiding in the kidnapping of my baby,” He yells into the street.

Dread fills your body seeing Keith on the surveillance camera of Avenger’s Tower. He’s ranting and yelling out into the street to whoever would listen. Passersby don’t pay him any mind for the most part. A few people stop to look at all of the commotions but in the end, they go on with their day too. He’s making a complete and utter fool of himself.

“I’m calling the police now,” He shouts. “They have my little girl in there.” Through the screen, you can see him pull out his phone and call what you assume is the police. That is until two large, burly men in suits exit the tower to grab him. They pick him up as if he weighs nothing to escort him into the tower.

“Where are they taking him?” You ask. You tear your eyes away from the phone screen to look over at Natasha. She turns off the phone screen.

“Inside until he shuts up probably,” She answers.

“And will they hurt him?”

“Not unless he misbehaves,” Somehow this is the wrong answer and it fills you with dread. You didn’t want problems. You didn’t want anyone getting into trouble because of you. Natasha can tell by the look on your face what you’re thinking. “Look, y/n, whatever happens to him is his own fault.”

“Can we go to the Tower?” You interrupt. You know it’s an incredibly stupid ask but you’d like to make things right.

“What?”

“Can we go? We need to settle all of this and if he wants to see Kaia maybe I should let him see her,” You begin to ramble. “She’s his child too and I took her and he’s probably so worried.”

“Y/n, no, absolutely not I can’t let you do that,”

You frown. “You can’t let me? I thought here I had my own autonomy. I could make my own choices.”

“And you do.” Natasha lies her hand atop yours. “I don’t think you should go and see him. He’s unpredictable.”

“He won’t hurt me in front of anyone if that’s what you’re saying,” You shift uncomfortably. “Please, Nat, I promise I won’t go anywhere alone with him. I just…” You don’t know how to finish that sentence. You don’t know how to rationalize any of this. You don’t want to do this. Yet something tells you that you should. For closure.

Natasha sighs. She can’t do this. She doesn’t want to allow this. Yet she knows she has no say. She’s supposed to be supportive. Not that this particular incident should have her support. She wants to be there for you. So she will.

“If he tries anything I kill him,” She stands to go and grab her keys.

You nod wordlessly. Here’s to goodbyes.

You get Kaia ready with her new coat and shoes. You strap her into the car seat Natasha bought. As you click the straps into the base, you look at your daughter as she gives you a smile. She only has a couple of teeth right now. Which she shows proudly. She rubs her hands along the fabric of the chair, kicking her legs out, as she prepares herself for your new adventure. You don’t take cars often so this should be fun for her. You linger for a few seconds, cherishing this moment of peace with her before you climb into the passenger seat.

Natasha puts the car into drive and sets off towards the tower. There’s a random pop song playing lowly on the radio. Natasha is stoic and a bit cold as you leave the unfamiliar neighborhood.

“I know you think I’m stupid.” You break the silence and she cuts her eyes to you. “You wouldn’t be the first.” You look out of the window and then back to her. “I love him. In some silly naive way, I think he loves me too. I just…I can’t keep letting him hit me you’re right.” Your hand travels to your belly, where your unborn child is housed safely. “If he hadn’t stopped. If Kaia hadn’t woken up I think I would have lost them. Kaia. The baby. My choice would have been taken from me and I don’t know if I would have been able to live after that.”

Natasha doesn’t speak for a long time. This makes you uneasy. You’d like to know what she’s thinking. You’re unsure of everything and you want to know how she feels. At a stop Natasha speaks. She flicks on the left turn indicator, the noise a bit distracting, as she looks over at you.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” She starts. “I think it doesn’t matter what I think. You have to decide for yourself what you want. I am here. Every step of the way. Once Upon a Time, I couldn't leave either. I was under a very powerful man's wing and thought I had it good at one point. Until I was shown better.” She glances into the backseat at Kaia who’s surprisingly still awake. “Will you let me show you better?” She turns back to the front.

“I would like that,” You nod. The rest of the drive is ridden in silence.

The tower is not too far away from Natasha’s hideaway. Though it takes a bit longer to get there. She takes a lot of turns and detours and you’re sure this is to keep potential followers off your trail. She is still an Avenger. When she comes to the tower she takes the back entrance. It’s only for authorized individuals and even you weren’t allowed down here. The parking garage houses many cars and trucks. Natasha’s black Corvette is parked on one side of the garage. It’s sideways and taking up more than its fair share of space. You know no one dares to confront her about it. Either that or she just didn’t care.

You’re taking Kaia out of her seat when the nerves hit you. What exactly are you doing? How can you justify any of this? What if Keith does blow up? What if he does try something? What if he didn’t? You don’t have much time to think as you step into the elevator with Kaia in your arms and Natasha’s comforting hand on your lower back. You keep your eyes focused on the numbers on the wall. They rise steadily until you reach the fifty-fourth floor. These floors are usually used for Avenger’s business meetings. No one is usually allowed up here. This also means no one would be coming up if they had a problem.

You follow Natasha into the lobby where a few members of the team are waiting. Suddenly you become self-conscious. You didn’t think to put on makeup or any type of concealer. You look around the room, hoisting Kaia a bit higher in your arms.

“Where is he?” Natasha asks first. Wanda is seated next to Vision and she answers first.

“He’s with Tony and Steve in the conference room,” She points to the room a few feet away. Through the glass, you can spot Tony, Steve, and Sam all standing around the room, glaring him down, not even entertaining Keith’s outbursts. You can’t tell what’s being said from here. Your heart races at the idea of going in there and talking to him. Natasha glances to you before excusing herself. She walks over to the room, not even bothering to knock before she enters. All eyes are on her as she stands with her arms folded. You wonder how this will go.

“Would you like to sit?” Wanda inquires.

“No, I’m, I’m good.” You tuck your face into Kaia’s hair. She’s becoming fussier as she wants to get down and explore.

“I can take her,” Wanda offers. “We have fruit in the kitchen.” She tilts her head towards the doorway. You’re about to decline when you see out of the corner of your eye, that Keith stands from his chair in a fit of rage, only to be forcefully sat down with a hand on his shoulder by Steve.

“Yes, please,” You follow Wanda into the kitchen. She doesn’t treat you any differently. She doesn’t seem horrified by the bruising on your face. She works around you, cutting up a banana into thin slices. Kaia watches in interest, twisting her body around so that she can watch Wanda’s every move. You help her out of her coat, hanging it over a nearby chair before you come back to the counter. “You must have questions.”

“Only if you want to answer,” Wanda shrugs. “I do not wish to pry.”

She holds out a banana slice for Kaia to take. The toddler reaches her hand out before stuffing the fruit into her mouth. She chews loudly, drools leaving her mouth, as she delights in the tasty snack. “I do recognize that he has managed to piss off the entire team. Natasha especially.”

“I don’t have the best track record with relationships,” You begin. “Keith is…”

“The one who did that to your face?” She finishes for you. “I’m no stranger to physical violence from someone who pretends to care for you.” As a product of HYDRA, Wanda has seen her fair share of bruises and bumps. She doesn’t want to preach to you about anything at all.

“I’m sorry I brought this to the tower,” You find yourself apologizing. Even with the distance, you can hear Keith has gotten louder. The commotion has spilled out into the common area. How had he managed to leave?

“Y/n!, Y/n!, where is she?” He yells out. “Where’s my daughter?” He yells. Kaia lifts her head at the sound of her father’s voice. Before she could whine, you pass her to Wanda.

“Keep her safe? Please,” You beg. Wanda nods curtly, bouncing the little one in her arms, as she watches you walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

You step a bit further to find Keith fighting his restraints, becoming more erratic by the second, as he yells your name. You try to shake your nerves as you stop in front of him. He calms down considerably at the sight of you. Natasha rushes to your side, whispering into your ear, as the room becomes silent again.

“Y/n, I’m not sure its a good idea,”

“He just wants to talk to me right?” You respond loud enough to hear.

“That’s right,” Keith breathes harshly. “I just want to speak with you and take you home.”

“That won’t be happening,” Steve speaks up.

“I’ll talk with you,” You agree despite Steve’s denial. Before anyone could protest you say “five minutes. Nothing more. Nothing else Keith. If you try anything I will let them hurt you.” You warn him. He nods vehemently. “Let him go.” You request. Steve looks to Natasha for confirmation and she nods her head. This annoys you but it’s on the bottom of your list of things to be addressed. You walk past Kieth and the rest of the team and enter the conference room. You know he’ll follow.

When he does, he closes the door behind him, and for just a second you panic. Though you don’t show him. You can’t show him your weakness. That’s how he gets to you.

“There you are,” He says. He sidles up to your side, his hands cradling your face, as he looks into your eyes. You know the team is watching. “I was going crazy looking for you.” His hand falls to your chin, his eyes scanning your face, and you’re getting no reaction from him.

“Well, you found me,” You turn your head to tear your face from his grasp. You take a few steps backward to further the distance between you. Your stomach is in knots and you can feel nausea making a reappearance. “What do you want, Keith?”

“For you to come home,” He answers. “You and Kaia. Where is she?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You speak carefully. You know what to say to not tick him off. You know how to play it safe. It’s shame that you do.

“Look, I know,” He clenches his fist. “I know I hurt you and I know what I did is wrong. We’ve talked about this before. I was just afraid to lose you and I get angry and…”

“You make my face look like this,” You say quietly. “Do you know how many times Kaia has seen you hit me, Keith?” You fold your arms under your chest. He doesn’t speak. “How many times we’ve woken her up because you decided to slam me against a wall? How much money I’ve spent on makeup just to hide what you’ve done to me?”

“I’m sorry,” He says. “I’m trying to be better. I’ll go to therapy. Just like you asked. I’ll go to AA and whatever else. I’ll stop seeing that girl. She doesn’t matter to me. You’re the one I want to marry. The one I want.” For a second you believe him. He falls to his knees, placing his hands on your hips, his head buried into your stomach as he cries. Under different circumstances, you might believe him. You do love him. He is trying, right? “Just come home with me. Come home and I’ll make it better. I promise.” He kisses your belly, practically soaking the hem of your shirt before he moves your hands to his head. “Just go get Kaia and we can go home. I need you.” He pleads.

You look up at the ceiling, blinking away tears, as you curse yourself for what you’re about to do. Maybe you are too weak. Maybe this isn’t what you want. He’s all you’ve ever known. You pull yourself from Keith’s arms, leaving them hanging in the air, as you exit the room. You walk past all of the Avengers, avoiding eye contact with them to head for the kitchen. They’ve all been listening. They can see everything. Which is why your next move leaves them perplexed.

Kaia is sitting in Wanda’s lap, tugging at her dark brown curls, as she sings to her.

“Y/n? Are you done talking?” She asks and you don’t even answer. You take Kaia in your arms, kissing the top of her head before you walk with her towards the conference room.

“What are you doing?” Sam questions.

“Hey, y/n, I don’t think you should do that,” Steve warns. Tony makes a noise. As for Natasha. She stays quiet. She knows what you’re about to do. She can’t stand by and watch. You can hear the ding of the elevator just before you walk into the conference room. You swallow down the pain to go and stand in front of Keith again.

“There she is,” Keith grins. He stands tall, clearly feeling victorious, as he pokes at Kaia’s belly. She seems disinterested, though happy to see him. “There’s my girl. Oh, you’re so big.” He smiles. You don’t speak as you watch him interact with her. Tears prick your eyes as Kaia matches his smile. She looks so much like him. Keith gives her another kiss. “I knew you would come home with me.”

Something about that statement startles you into action. Your decision has already been made. Before you have the chance to give up, you speak.

“Say goodbye to Daddy, Kaia.” You whisper brokenly. Keith’s eyes flash to yours. Had he heard you correctly?

“Bye-bye,” Kaia repeats. She’s unaware of the tension between the two of you.

“What do you mean goodbye?” Keith questions. You step back a few inches.

“I can’t go with you, Keith.” You inform him. “I can’t keep doing this.” You shake your head. “She deserves all of me. She deserves to have me forever.” You turn, rushing out of the conference room, spotting Steve and Sam as they step around you. You imagine it's to stop Keith from following after you. You meet Wanda at the end of the hallway where she leads you to the elevators. You can hear Keith yelling again. Screaming this time and you can tell its pain. Whatever they’re doing to him is none of your business anymore. You have yourself and your baby to worry about.

You stand next to Wanda until you reach the first floor of the Avenger’s quarters. Natasha is over by the bar, her head down, her eyes focused on some random object. You’re unsure if she wants to talk with you right now.

“I'll show you where to clean up,” Wanda directs you to a suite a little further down the hall. You recognize this area as Natasha’s. There’s a closed bedroom door, one you know as Natasha’s when she’s here, and another bedroom. This is where Wanda puts you. She closes the door behind the two of you.

“She’s angry with me, isn’t she?” You dare to ask.

“Natasha doesn’t like it when we put ourselves in danger,” Wanda explains. “Though usually its followed by yelling at us. I think with you its special.”

“How so?” You sit Kaia onto the bed. She immediately crawls over to the headboard. She begins to pull the pillows to toss them onto the floor.

“I don’t know if it's my place to say,” Wanda wrings her hands. “For now, don’t worry about it.”

“My life is a mess,” You shake your head. “ I don’t know up from down right now and I definitely don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Lucky for you there’s a billionaire downstairs and a whole team behind you to help you figure it out,” Wanda looks around the room. “I can bring you clothes down. We’re almost the same size. Though you’re a bit curvier than me.” She points out. You look down to yourself and then to Wanda.

“Genetics,” You joke and she laughs quietly.

“You have a beautiful child,”

“Thank you,”

“I’ll be back,” Wanda leaves you to your own devices. When you hear the click of the door shut, you finally sit. You take deep long breaths, feeling the weight of the past few days hit you.

Everything’s changing. For the better.

******************************

Upstairs, in the conference room, Tony stands at the head of the table, eyeing Keith as the younger man rants about how he would be suing. Steve is seething in the corner while Sam stands completely still. Either this guy is dumb or he’s intentionally trying to goad them.

“You can’t do this to me,” Keith seethes. “You can’t keep me from my child. Once I go to the press you guys are done.”

“Is that so?” Tony tilts his head. “See I don’t think anyone in here takes too kindly to threats. Especially from men that put their hands on women.”

“You like knocking her around like that?” Steve questions. “What about that gets you off? Huh? You like seeing her hurt?”

“You don’t know shit,” Keith says snidely.

“We know enough,” Steve frowns.

“She’s not going to fuck you,” Keith grins. Steve raises a brow. He’s trying a different angle. Wanting to come off cocky. As if he has the upper hand. “She’s a prude. Took years to pop her cherry and you think you can get her to drop her pants because you’re some washed-up superhero?”

“Are you really that deluded?” Steve’s jaw ticks. He can’t believe he’s even listening to this guy.

“No, I know her,” Keith shrugs. “Once she realizes that she needs me she’ll come crawling back. She always does. Maybe this time I’ll finally get her to suck my-” Before he can finish his sentence it’s Sam that punches him square in the jaw. He flies back in his chair, spitting out the blood pooling into his mouth mere inches away from Sam’s shoes.

“Watch your mouth,” Sam warns him.

“Or what you’re going to kill me? You don’t have it in you. You’re an Avenger.” Keith smiles.

“He may not but have you heard of The Black Widow?” Tony gestures outside of the room. “She wouldn't hesitate and you know what? I would let her.” Tony hates that he’s referring to Natasha as some sort of killing machine but he needs to get his point across.

“Then I guess that doesn't make any of you better than me,” Keith argues despite his rising nervousness.

“Okay, I’m tired of you talking,” Tony rounds the table. “Here’s what is going to happen. I’m going to have Pepper speak with a lawyer to draw up papers signing away your rights. Then you’re going to take a plane ticket. You’re going to go far far away from here. You’re never going to speak to Y/n or Kaia again.”

“What’s in it for me? You can’t keep me away from my kid.”

“You get to keep all your limbs,” Tony pats his cheek. “She’s better off without you. You don’t have much of a choice.”

“Take the deal,” Steve says.

“I don’t get money or anything?” Keith presses. “How do you know I won’t go to the press anyway?”

“Oh, you won’t,” Tony says. “Unless you wish to find out how ruthless we can be. Avenger or no Avenger. What you did to that girl? You don’t even deserve to be walking right now.”

Tony takes one last look at him. “Get him out of my tower.” He says to the security waiting nearby. “Sign the papers, Keith.” He bids him one last goodbye.

***********************

You don’t venture out of the bedroom until Kaia has fallen asleep. You take a shower first, throwing on a larger hoodie, sans bra, with sweats to match your ensemble. You scrub the parts of your face that don’t hurt to touch. You want to deny the fact that you’re looking for Natasha but it’s true. She must be disappointed in what she thought you were going to do.

Instead, you find Steve. He's eating some kind of sandwich thing you’re not sure about.

“Hey,” You speak softly.

“Hello,” He drops his sandwich onto the saucer. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve had better days,” You shrug. Your eyes scan the room again.

“She went out,” He supplies and you look at him questioningly. “Natasha. She said she had to go out for something.”

You nod in understanding. She can’t wait for you forever.

“I’m sorry you had to see that today,” You pull at the sleeves of the hoodie.

“I’ve seen worse,” Steve shrugs. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel that you could come to us.”

“For what it’s worth I did,” You furrow your brows. “It’s embarrassing. I didn't want to bother you with my minuscule problems when you battle aliens for a living.”

“Even so,” Steve beckons you over to his side. It’s where he brings you into his arms. He’s safe. Just like Natasha. He’s your friend too. “Your problems are not small. If they are hurting you or they matter to you they’re not small.”

You nod into his neck. As you pull apart the elevator doors open, revealing Natasha, as she steps onto the floor. You wipe away your tears to look over at her.

“Hi,” You wave to her. You spot the bags in her hand. Had she been shopping again?

“Hi,” She waves back. There’s an awkward silence that Steve interrupts.

“I’m just going to go,” He says. “Let me know if you need anything.” He says to you before walking past Natasha.

“I brought the ice cream,” Natasha shakes the bag. “I got one I’ve seen you eat before. Rocky Road. That’s your favorite?” You can see she’s nervous and unsure. That’s a big deal considering just who you are talking to.

“Thank you,” You nod as she begins to put everything away. “Though I don’t think I’ll be eating anything for a while. My stomach is all messed up.” You reveal and her eyes immediately drop down to said body part. “No, everything’s fine. It’s just morning sickness.”

“Happens all day?” She questions.

“All day,” You say exasperatedly. “I’m sorry.” You feel the need to say.

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” You look down at your bare toes. “For bringing you all into this. For making you think I chose him.”

“I wouldn’t be angry if you did,” Natasha admits.

“Because you don’t think you’re anybody’s first choice,”

“This isn’t about me,” Natasha shakes her head.

You understand that. You know it’s too early to be jumping from one relationship to another. You know your feelings are all mixed up and your head is even more jumbled. This shouldn’t be so complicated and yet it is. Yet you can’t help but step closer to her. Her eyes drop to your lips and you want to. God, you want to. You don’t want to be rejected again. So you tuck that thought away.

You throw yourself into Natasha’s arms and she catches you. The hug is long and fulfilling as her strong arms wrap around you. You let out a shuddering breath.

Would it all be okay?

---> next part

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Princess"

Ice Princess by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Murder, Mayhem, Blood, Violence, Action/Adventure, Thriller, All Dat Good Shit. Grown Folks Only.

Summary:

Portia Keith has it all. A rich boyfriend. An impressive sugar baby allowance. Shopping trips around the world on private jets and more. Every day is spent living in the lap of luxury. For a special holiday trip, her boyfriend gifts her with a private yacht cruise on the Aegean Sea to ring in the New Year with friends.

In order to keep the wealthy party-goers safe, private security is hired to protect the good times, and the spoiled diva encounters the gruff ex-Special Ops soldier, Erik Killmonger, who has no time to coddle a spoiled, coolheaded socialite. Chaos erupts when the yacht is hijacked by ruthless modern-day pirates, and Portia has to learn to leave her Ice Princess ways behind in order for Killmonger to get her back on land... alive.

Word count: 22.5K

"I'm so cold I'm dripping icicles

I go and take your man that nigga might miss you

Spent his whole commission on my neck and ear

To stand around me need to have ya winter gear

Pay me coats and benz's and that berg-ice

That's why I do not feel these bitches, frostbite

Grown money, ever since a youngin' made my own money

You broke honey, and they call me

Banks, cause I can loan money

Colder than December, my diamonds on

Anna WintourSo that's fly ice in my life"

Azealia Banks – "Ice Princess"

Erik Killmonger nearly turned down the job.

Floating around some Greek islands in and around the Aegean Sea for a week babysitting some rich bitches was not his dream gig. Some guns for hire might enjoy the laid-back assignment full of sunshine and sparkling azure waters, but he learned enough over the years that working for wealthy pampered civilians was a pain in the ass. They treated security like servant extensions, and he was not interested in an environment like that. He was accustomed to covert jobs that kept his blood pumping and his mind sharp. There were long-term goals that required him to be with a different mix around the Middle East and real action.

But his homeboy Clark wanted to keep the contract with James Quinton, the multi-millionaire from Silicon Valley who pioneered new bleeding-edge technology in computer processing. For about seven years, he had been a celebrated tech wiz, one of the few Black men successfully cashing out of the grind hustle culture. Killmonger kept up with the man's accomplishments and compared them with his own. As a graduate of M.I.T. and a certified genius with MENSA, the secret Wakandan prince would've probably become another James Quinton himself if his life hadn't been disrupted by trauma and loss. The chips fell where they did, and Killmonger bided his time searching for Ulysses Klaue and working as expensive hired security. Clark nagged at him.

"Man, I'm stretched thin. They want discretion and the best. That's you. I know you were supposed to start leave for a week to recuperate from that Lagos job, but there's some sketchy action happening around the Mediterranean, and your Navy SEAL experience is needed… just in case," Clark said on a satellite call.

Killmonger sat in his closet-sized studio that acted as a storage locker for his gear instead of a home. Constantly on the go, and on the grind, he listened to Clark reclining in his Lazy-Boy chair with a glass tumbler of prime whiskey in his hand.

"You'll ring the New Year in a beautiful atmosphere. Relaxed and peaceful. The bonus holiday pay is great. Please, I need this contract fulfilled. This man knows a lot of billionaires and I could use the referrals… new contacts. Plus, you're good-looking," Clark continued.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Killmonger said, sipping on his drink.

"Look over the file I sent you online. It gives details about the yacht you'll be protecting, and also the rest of the clientele."

"That still ain't got nothing to do with my looks," Killmonger grumbled.

"Pretty girls like good-looking men. That's all I'm saying. You might get lucky compared to the other goons I got," Clark said.

Killmonger closed his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. The studio apartment felt cramped and joyless.

"I'll throw in another bonus for the short notice," Clark insisted.

"How many people onboard?"

"It's a private New Year's party, eight guests, and the yacht staff of four. You'll have your own cabin. You'll lead everything with Sherman and Banks working under you. Giving you the best—"

"Just three men?"

Killmonger lifted his laptop from a small table next to his chair. He logged onto his dark web email account and scrolled images of the yacht. Looking at the dimensions and pictures, Killmonger put down his glass.

"I need at least three more men."

"I can pull at least one more for you—"

"Gotta have five total under me to make this work, especially with us going to a new hot spot."

"The Greek government and the Turkish government have been doing extra sea patrols. James Quinton hasn't mentioned going anywhere for the holidays and I urged him to place his social media engagement on pause for the week until they end their holiday. It'll be a vacation for you. In fact, you could just supervise and chill."

Killmonger knocked back the rest of his liquor.

"Okay, I'll do it. Get me five men."

He hung up and checked the files of James Quinton on his own cryptic software. Quinton liked to stunt his wealth. The man posted photos and corny quotes at least ten times a day on all of his social media platforms. It was the ones with his girlfriend that worried Killmonger.

Portia Keith.

Online, she was known as the Ice Princess. Her beauty and personality were so cold that she had a reputation for being a femme fatale with a rich man's wallet. She had been linked to a few celebrities in the past but had moved her pampered ways to men with deeper and consistent pockets. She rarely spoke in public and showed up to haute couture fashion shows all across the globe. Killmonger couldn't figure out exactly what she did to make men clamor for her and pop culture gossip blogs to want to follow her daily jaunts as a sugar baby with James Quinton.

He stared at a few pictures.

Ma definitely had a face card that would never decline. Medium height, a medium copper brown complexion that turned a pretty darker hue in the sun. Body looked all natural and not the cringy build-a-bitch looks women paid top dollar for. Portia had tits and a nice ass that matched her thighs. She liked provocative looks and expensive things. Quinton gave her everything and baby girl wasn't denied anything according to the photos he peeped on her platforms. There was a crew of girlfriends she jaunted around with, and in every picture, Portia was the center of attention. The face of a model on par with Naomi Campbell, and the body of a vixen bent on destroying hearts and dicks. She stayed dripped in diamonds every day from head to toe. Most men couldn't afford her and several tried to keep her until Quinton snatched her up with the bank account that kept her flaunting her beauty and body.

That face, though? Killmonger couldn't stop staring at it. Her eyes were cool dark windows that gave away nothing. The kind of eyes that cut niggas down if they weren't on point. Her round nose was slightly upturned in a natural haughtiness, but her lips were the deadliest weapons in her arsenal. Killmonger's lips parted as he licked his canine slugs that matched the bottom ones made of pure gold. Portia's lips looked like they could make a dick cry if she sucked on it. Her nickname fit the vibe she gave off, and he wondered what Quinton had besides money to keep that sophisticated sugar baby close.

Killmonger checked the gossip sites and scrolled pages and pages of rumors that Portia and Quinton were having issues and possibly on the outs. He guessed the private New Year's trip was Quinton's way of keeping her, especially with the gossipmongers bubbling with sightings of her having lunch with an Italian billionaire.

Killmonger poured himself a fresh drink, then checked flight schedules on Delta Airlines.

Portia Keith pouted all the way to Greece on her boyfriend's private Gulfstream jet. Scrolling her social media feeds while holding her apricot-colored Pomeranian Mimi, she fumed at the gossip page listing her and Quinton on a site that criticized the super-rich for ruining the climate with their wasteful private flights and hoarding of resources. Her bestie Jodie patted her thigh and told her to ignore the haters.

One thing Portia always did was cultivate a scandal-free reputation. She prided herself on being a carefree Black woman leading a luxury movement for other Black women that had them raising their standards against unqualified men. Accused of only promoting hypergamy and a sugar baby lifestyle, she let people talk their shit because it only brought luxury brands her way courting her favors to use and promote their goods for free. Her exquisite face launched products like no other, and the quiet mystique she crafted with razor precision could not tolerate slander with her image. It wasn't her jet. It was Quinton's. Rich people had to protect themselves and taking commercial airlines with the poors was so… gauche. Especially for bad bitches like herself. The income brackets she played in were fifty million and above, and the low bar of fifty million was just being polite. Not bad for a country girl with tidewater roots and access to an excellent finishing school that prepped her for the lifestyle she led.

Portia left Charleston, South Carolina, with a finance degree from Clemson University and never looked back. Landing a job working under the Director of Finance and Operations for Conde Nast, she labored around the folks who ran Vogue Magazine. A chance encounter during New York Fashion Week launched her new career as a pampered princess. The paparazzi snapped a candid shot of her walking near Anna Wintour wearing a layered sable Balenciaga romper. They both wore the same dark Chanel sunglasses, and a fashion mag begged the question, "Who wore it better?" Before his passing, André Leon Talley exalted her style sense and overnight, Portia became the new "It" girl, the mysterious fashionista who was too short to be a model, but too glamorous to be a simple finance department worker.

She jumped on the parasocial relationship with the New York fashion scene and made sure she appeared at big events. Using a lame-ass rapper who liked to rock oversized ice, she taught him how to dress better, and spent his money on a better investment… her. She put him on to better fashion, better food, and better jewelry. It helped broaden his brand and snag a movie role. She bounced from him to a Hollywood Executive who flaunted her at Oscar parties and she kept her mouth shut and her eyes wide open for new marks. Stacking other people's paper and collecting custom diamond jewelry that became her signature trademark was a lofty career in her early twenties. Portia was nearing the end of her roaring twenties and she had to upgrade her prospects to older men with healthy long-term portfolios. Hollywood and celebrity wealth were fleeting, often feast and famine. New prospects were needed and her finance education led her to San Francisco and tech Daddies. The trade-offs were dull, less attractive men, but fatter pockets.

Then Quinton appeared on a Forbes magazine cover.

Dollar signs flashed in her eyes. She called in favors to get invited to a tech gala and projected her icy exterior onto a man who was rich and above average. New money cleaned him up, but her looks, nimble fingers, and optimum sex magic snagged her a baller on the rise. If she drank enough liquor and squinted her eyes just so, he could almost pass as a poor man's skinny Trevante Rhodes. But that squint had to be hard and the liquor extra strong.

She glanced over at Quinton.

He bored her now.

Quinton was thirty, only four years older than her, but he acted like he was fifty, worrying about his declining fortune all the time. He got caught up in some bad cryptocurrency deals and took a hit on some poor stock market advice. The man pretended that everything was okay financially, but Portia could smell the oncoming of poverty one hundred miles away. Yet she still ran his pockets one last time with the trip she wanted for herself and her girls. She had a couple of boyfriend replacements already on deck and planned to jump ship after the New Year. Broke didn't look good on her and she wasn't built for struggle love or struggle pockets. A baddie always had a graceful contingency exit plan. She sighed loud enough for Quinton to notice her restlessness. Her gaze glossed over his hairline, which was beating a hasty retreat to the back of his neck. What had once been a full head of cropped waves had turned into phantom follicles that gave up on him faster than she did. He had aged so quickly in the two years she'd been with him that she could mistake him for his own father nowadays. Pity. Portia thought she'd stay with him for at least a few more years to see if he could stack his paper higher past the eighty million he was worth when she met him. Alas, that was not to be.

Quinton put down the computer tablet he had his nose buried in and clasped her hand. His eyes were already bloodshot from drinking and anxiousness. Things were probably going downhill faster.

"We're about to land, baby. Have patience," he said.

Her girlfriends giggled and drank martinis behind them. Portia ran a diamond-studded finger up his arm. Mimi whined on her lap.

"Will you give me anything special for New Year's Day?" she purred.

Quinton grinned.

"I have a lot planned for you," he winked.

At least he was going out with a bang, she thought. He was spoiling her one last time, unbeknownst to him. A part of her wondered if she should feel pity for milking him dry until he went belly up. It was the nature of the game, and he knew fully that to keep a woman like her, he had to keep his coins up. She kissed his cheek and her stomach dropped. They were descending.

Their landing was swift, and they were all transported to a launch dock where Quinton's brand-new custom yacht waited for them on tranquil turquoise waters. Seeing the ship, Portia couldn't help but get excited and jump about like a kid with her friends as she held Mimi in her personalized pink Fendi doggy purse. Quinton's three male friends ogled the women through their sheer beach cover-ups. Their teeny-weeny bikinis left little to the lascivious imagination. Portia patted her designer cornrows studded with pink diamond hair jewelry that matched Mimi's pink diamond collar. The ends of her jeweled braids extended past her back, and she flung her natural hair around and waited to board the yacht.

A staff member waited on the main deck of the ship with a tray of mixed drinks in a crisp eggshell white maritime uniform of a starched shirt and knee-length shorts. Portia grabbed the first glass and her gaze drifted over to the tall Black man wearing a hot as hell black military uniform holding a colt commando automatic weapon. His glossy locs framed a gruff, bearded face with a scowl on his thick lips.

"Ohmigod, Quinton. Is this really necessary? Mood killer," Portia complained.

She released Mimi to run around and handed her purse to another crew member. Quinton shook the security's hand. Scoping the yacht, Portia saw five more similar men spread behind the first one.

"Killmonger, correct?" Quinton said.

"Correct," Killmonger said.

"Just Killmonger?" Portia asked.

"Just Killmonger," he answered in a rough tone.

Quinton turned to all of his guests as they mingled and admired the surrounding luxury. The five other security team members dispersed to their stations. Only Killmonger remained. Quinton held out his hands to show off his big, shiny toy.

"As I told all of you, we'll be completely protected. I know there have been rumblings of issues in this region, but I hired some serious security. Enjoy yourselves! Wander around for a bit and they will place your luggage in your cabins. Lunch in an hour!" Quinton said.

"Hold up," Killmonger said.

Everyone stopped chatting and froze with their refreshing drinks.

"We need to go over a safety drill," Killmonger said.

Quinton glanced at his watch.

"Now? Can it wait until after lunch?"

"No," Killmonger said.

"Where would you like us to be?" Quinton asked.

"Head to the stern, please," Killmonger said, pointing to the back of the yacht.

The others headed in that direction. Portia sauntered past him in the opposite direction.

"I'm going to settle in," she said, rolling her eyes.

Killmonger snatched up her arm so quickly that it knocked the breath out of her. She didn't know a human could move that fast. He held her close to his chest as his other hand gripped his weapon.

"See, you're the type of woman who makes the job difficult by being a brat," he snapped.

"You can't talk to me like that!" she hissed, trying to jerk her arm away. It was like fighting an immobile mountain.

"I'm here to protect your good time. We practice drills for a reason."

She exhaled hard when she noticed his teeth. Sharp gold canine slugs on his top and bottom teeth.

"I could have my man sue you for assault," she bitched.

"Do it," he said.

Portia blinked fast several times.

"Do you know who James Quinton is? He could ruin you!" she bellowed, squirming in his grip.

"I'm here to make sure you rich people don't get bothered. I'm the best at that and I'd appreciate your cooperation with the safety drill. It'll only take twenty minutes of your precious spoiled time," he barked.

"Portia?"

Her friend Chelsea called for her.

Killmonger released her arm, and Portia looked up into his face. Narrow, heated eyes peered down at her.

"Let's go, princess," he said, swaggering past her and slinging his weapon over his shoulder.

Portia stared at his wide back and clenched her teeth. She threw her martini glass over the side of the yacht in anger and balled up her fists. Prepared to raise hell with Quinton over the manhandling, she huffed under her breath in anger and stomped her Gucci slides when Killmonger glanced back at her and… smiled, flashing those gold slugs.

Portia halted her steps. The fuck was he smiling at?

And why was she getting aroused by it?

She was a piece of work.

Killmonger knew from jump that Portia would be a problem needing an attitude adjustment. He checked her real quick the moment she mouthed off about not following safety rules that had to be enforced in case of an emergency. She gave him a glacial stare during his short introductory speech on how the trip would run among the security team, and he took them down the stairs that led to a sunbathing deck. There was an emergency escape door that led to an eleven meters long military rigid hull inflatable boat under the yacht that could hold three crew and eight passengers. It had an M60 7.62mm machine gun, an MK19 40mm, and an M2 .50 cal. machine gun armament attached to it. The boat could do forty knots with six in-line cylinder diesel engines. It was an extreme weather craft and Killmonger made them all jump inside of it to get a feel of how they would ride it in case of an emergency exit. He pointed out life vests and showed them the scuba gear his men had available to check for underwater threats.

Once Portia realized they were the real deal, she fixed her face to look less bitchy and bothered. Killmonger was concise and professional and he impressed all the guests with his background and training. He spoke to his team to go over work shifts, breaks, and overnight watch duty. Taking the first shift watch on the main deck, he kept his guard up while the yacht started its adventure away from the Greek port and out into the open sea. The captain of the ship introduced himself and his staff after lunch and their first port of call was Athens, and then they would head to Crete. They would spend the rest of their time tooling around on the open sea and shooting off fireworks on New Year's Eve.

The women wasted no time throwing off their bikini covers and rushing over to sunbathe topless on cushy recliners. An annoying little dog ran around barking and finally jumped on Portia's thighs to sleep until it got too hot and it hid under her chair. He didn't mind watching the sea with binoculars and occasionally looking down at tits. They weren't shy about showing them, so he would not pretend he didn't notice. Quinton and his male buddies grabbed a bottle of top-shelf bourbon and headed to the other side of the yacht to smoke cigars on padded deck chairs. They were torn up by dinner, and by then, he was done with his work shift and free to relax and eat a meal in his cabin. A private chef brought him moussaka and white wine for dinner and galaktoboureko for dessert. It filled him up, and he took a quick shower afterward, then rested on his bed.

The party crowd became raucous and rowdy the later it became, and he changed into light linen pants and a cotton shirt to join them and check in with the night shift team. Music blared from speakers on the starboard side and he eased around to observe and also check out the night waters. The yacht had spotlights that surrounded the bottom of the boat, so there was a beautiful glow to the calm aquamarine water. The rest of the ship was lit up too, which concerned Killmonger. Nothing like advertising a luxury yacht filled with rich people. He was correct in requesting five men to work with him. They had various firearms, rocket-propelled grenades, and enough ammo to start a war at sea if needed. He relaxed after talking to the two men on shift. All was well.

He went for a stroll around the upper decks while the civilians headed down to the lower deck to spread out for cocktails on the main deck. A cool breeze blew past and ruffled his locs. He closed his eyes and faced it fully, luxuriating in the sensation.

"Oh… so you can look normal."

Killmonger opened his eyes and found Portia and one of her friends sitting on white barrel chairs with their legs kicked up on an olive green ottoman. She wore a short pumpkin-colored shift dress and her skin looked amazing from being in the sun all day. Playing with the hem of her extra short dress, he admired the elaborate diamond chips that decorated her long fingernails. She stayed adorned, and he appreciated the effort she took to look feminine and soft. Portia's friend looked cute in a short polka-dotted sun dress. Her hair was lifted in a high ponytail of cascading auburn curls that fell down over her slender shoulder.

He took the open seat next to the friend with a short table between them. There was a half-empty glass of red wine and a fresh unopened bottle next to it with a cork opener conveniently placed on top of it if she needed more.

"I can dress down when I'm not working," he said.

She smiled. The wine had relaxed her and she appeared less uptight. Crossing a seductive leg, he glimpsed her sexy thighs. She didn't have any panties on, and her mound was clean-shaven. He glanced away to pretend he saw nothing, but the smirk on her face told him she meant for him to see her pussy.

"Why aren't you two down with the others?" he asked.

"Needed a break. When you're always the life of the party like me, you need a little time off. Plus, they're talking about work and stocks. Tiana and I are not interested."

"That's so snoozefest," Tiana said, her light skin splotchy with sunburn marks.

"Your other friends seem intrigued by it."

"Those heffas?" Portia snorted. "They just want to appear interested to get attention. Carlos is worth half a billion. Ben two billion. Oh, and that loud mouth you hear right now? That's Stieg. He's a Scandinavian trust fund baby worth five billion. My girls are here to party with me, but make no mistake, they're fishing for a big fish of their own to catch up with me. They're bored out of their minds, but…."

Portia rubbed her fingers together to indicate cash. She stood up and walked down the stairs, leaving Killmonger with Tiana. He sat in silence for a moment before standing up to leave.

"You sure you'll be okay up here by yourself?" he asked, glancing over at the balcony.

Tiana looked heavily inebriated.

"I can hold my liquor," Tiana said.

"Alright then, I'll leave you to your bottle and privacy—"

He glanced over the railing and watched Portia saunter to the front of the yacht. For someone who stayed rude to him while he was on shift, her lax behavior at night intrigued him. Showing off her pussy had to be an amusing game to her. Killmonger liked what he saw and slid his wet tongue across a gold fang.

The rest of his rounds were completed, and he gave one of his men a twenty-minute smoke break starboard side once the guests had turned in to sleep. He took over the watch temporarily and cast his glances out toward the tranquility of the sea. Heavy breathing brought forth curiosity, and he strolled down to a lower deck to investigate.

Portia was on her back naked, legs spread wide as Quinton exerted desperate dick strokes inside of her.

"You're so good, baby. Yes, that's it," Portia said with lukewarm enthusiasm.

Her eyes faced the sea, and she offered no effort to reciprocate affections or even movement as her man pounded her. The detachment on her expressionless face bothered Killmonger. Quinton gave her the world and she couldn't be bothered to give some passion? Even if it was a fake? A true pillow princess, Portia laid there with minimal effort to even wiggle her hips. She managed to push her breasts together and jiggle them, but she refused to look at Quinton's face. The man stared at the fat titties and pumped his way to a sad orgasm. When he collapsed on top of Portia, she took her expensive nails and raked them on the back of his neck and cooed phony words of praise. A smug look painted her face.

Killmonger gripped the railing, and a surge of anger sparked inside of him. He wanted to wipe that petty smirk off Portia's face. He knew fully well that her relationship with Quinton was a transactional one based on the rules of patriarchy. Men bought women as commodities and arm candy all the time. Killmonger knew what the game was, and Ma played it like the pro she appeared to be. However, it irked him that Quinton didn't fuck the shit out of her and make Portia earn all of her riches from him.

Quinton rolled off of her on the wide sectional couch and pulled off the condom that sheathed his average-sized dick. He balled it up and tossed it onto the table next to them. Within seconds, he was fast asleep, and Portia rested her head on a throw pillow. Her eyes squinted in surprise when she noticed Killmonger looking down at them. She slid a finger to her pussy lips, teasing Killmonger by opening her legs wider so he could see all the wet pink of her succulent entrance. His lips twisted up and there was a tightening in his pants. She traced a finger in a wide circle around her folds, then licked her fingers, dropping them onto her nipples to tweak the tips. He gripped the front of his pants to adjust his dick, thinking of all the ways he would fold her body if he had the chance to teach her a lesson about teasing a nigga like him. Her writhing body was doing all the things she should've been doing for Quinton if she hadn't been a lazy fuck. Portia dipped her fingers inside of her pussy and pursed her lush lips as she watched his face grow more aroused watching her display of ridiculous seduction right next to her snoring boyfriend. But he couldn't look away. Her fingers spun magic as they played in her slick folds. She flicked her clit and widened her legs for him until she raised her arm up and flipped him off with a moist finger. Portia cackled and clutched at her stomach, delighted at her teasing. She grabbed the shift dress she had on earlier and put it on, leaving Quinton behind by himself on the sectional. Tossing the used condom in the sea with the flick of a diamond nail, her laughter floated up to Killmonger as she headed to her cabin.

"Bitch," he grumbled.

She had him going, toying with him by using her physical blessings against him long enough to tell him to fuck off. Portia wanted to play cat and mouse, thinking he was the silly little mouse. Little did she know she had a vicious panther on her hands.

They docked in Crete at the crack of dawn.

Killmonger had two of his team stay behind to watch the yacht, and the others dressed in civilian clothing to blend in and trail the women who went shopping and out for lunch with the billionaires and Quinton. The blistering heat didn't let up. He wiped the back of his neck and under his chin several times while tracking Quinton. Portia stayed on the yacht to sleep in late. Her man seemed to find his balls again when he wasn't around her. The passive energy disappeared, and he took on a personality with bravado, impressing Tiana, who laughed at his corny jokes. Their lunch break was long and Killmonger took time to smoke a cigar near an open market. He played tourist watching the surrounding activity, checking the time on his watch constantly, and checking in with the yacht.

In his peripheral he caught Quinton slinking out of the high-end restaurant and entering the luxury hotel next to it. Killmonger stayed put hidden behind a marble statue of Athena, keeping his steady gaze on his client. Quinton checked his surroundings before dashing into the hotel. Killmonger entered the hotel and discreetly shielded his body from the other tourists. Moments later, Tiana walked into the lobby and headed toward Quinton. The tech wiz grabbed Tiana's hand and they entered an elevator together. Killmonger grinned and left the hotel.

The pillow princess's man was getting better pussy elsewhere with her bestie. Killmonger shook his head and checked on the people milling around the hotel lobby. He stayed put until the illicit couple came back down the elevator twenty-five minutes later, fixing their rumpled clothes to look presentable again.

"Quick ass," Killmonger mumbled, sticking a piece of gum in his mouth to chase away the taste of cigar on his tongue.

The trip back to the yacht was uneventful an hour later, and Portia's girlfriends carried plenty of gift bags to commemorate their visit. Portia stood on the top deck with a martini glass in her hand wearing an alabaster knit bikini. A giant floppy sun hat shaded her face. She pranced around on her chunky platforms, waiting for her friends to share their bounty with her.

"Fuck," Killmonger uttered, staring up at her.

Her body was insane. The bikini top only covered her nipples, and the bottoms barely shielded her vulva. He licked his lips again, staring at how fat her pussy looked up there. Tiana was nothing compared to Portia, but Killmonger knew that a lot of beautiful women had trash box and men fucked with women who made them feel good. Looks had nothing to do with keeping a man in the long run. Plenty of mid-looking and ugly women had snatched away prizes from bombshells. Perhaps Portia needed a man with good dick to turn her out correctly. There was no way all that body was going to waste because some rich dude couldn't handle her spunk.

Portia caught him checking her out, and she leaned over the railing to eye him back. Killmonger sauntered to his cabin to change back into his serious work clothes. He checked in with the mercs left behind on duty and all reports were good. The ship's captain updated him with a weather report and soon they were back out at sea for the rest of the trip.

Quinton and Portia threw a costume-themed dinner party and everyone wore Mardi Gras masks and sipped champagne before devouring salty caviar, Kobe steak, and lobsters. The yacht staff hustled to please, but Portia became a bitch when things didn't go as smoothly as she wanted. She reamed one female server so badly for stepping on her dog Mimi by accident that the woman slunk away in tears. Quinton said nothing about the bullying and everyone else was too drunk to comment on anything. Portia snapped at two mercs while moving into their next party area for charades and Killmonger had enough of the poor attitude. When Portia went for a restroom break in her cabin, he followed her. She caught him waiting for her in the narrow hall.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Her icy tone and polar stare made him want to flip her around and spank her ass like an insolent child being reprimanded by a fed-up parent.

"You need to check your tone with the staff and my men. These people are working hard—"

"Shut the fuck up, you simpin' bitch," she said.

Portia lifted the Mardi Gras mask onto her forehead and glared at him. Her little cat woman bikini costume showed off every curve, and he became distracted for a second by the veracity of her tone and demeanor. No woman had ever tried to come for him like that, especially one who didn't know him from Adam. Her breath smelled like the expensive French wine she had drank all night, and he considered her drunken state before speaking. He leaned in, and Portia leaned back until she was jammed against her cabin door. Killmonger bared his teeth at her and she acted as if he had snarled like a beast. Her eyes darted toward the stairs that led to the top deck, expecting someone to rescue her.

"Treat people who cater to you with respect. They don't get paid enough to take your verbal abuse," he demanded.

She looked away from his heated glare and gold canines. He caught the subtle tremble in her body, but then she turned her face back to him and smirked.

"Those people are paid well and competed to get this job—"

"You ain't paying 'em," he said.

"My man is. His money is my money—"

"You sure about him being your man?"

Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a tight grimace. Killmonger decided to blow up her spot and teach the brat a lesson. Every bully needed to be humbled in their life. There was no better time than the present for her.

Portia put a hand on her hip and waited for him to run his mouth some more.

"He had a little quickie with your homegirl Tiana at a hotel while everyone was having lunch."

He cocked his head and waited for the explosion and waterworks to begin. Portia stared at him hard, then started cackling.

"Think I'm joking? I followed them there," he said.

Portia snorted and grabbed her stomach to control her laughter. He waited for her to notice that he was serious. She patted his chest with her right hand and he rolled his eyes with impatience.

"The look on your face right now… as if you got me with something!" she heckled.

Portia wiped her almond eyes and touched her chest. Her diamond nails glittered and that cool exterior returned in full effect.

"I sent that bitch there myself," Portia said.

Killmonger's brow wrinkled, and Portia gave him a little twisted lip pout. Then she grinned.

"Aw, I'm sorry boo boo. You really thought this was a gotcha moment. Ever hear of keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer? Tiana is a free-loading cunt… yeah, I said cunt like the white girls do. She's not my homegirl, just competition who has been trying to be me from day one. I let that heffa into my inner circle to keep her on a leash. Quinton is going broke and all of this…?"

She waved her hand above her head.

"All of this shit is about to disappear soon, so to teach her a lesson about coming for what I got, I'm letting her have that limp dick brokie. She thinks she's on the come-up sneaking around with him, but I fed her fake bread crumbs to that nigga. Lied, and told her we were having relationship problems, and that I was worried that he wanted someone else. That little worker hoe really thinks she's better than the queen bee. I stayed on the yacht on purpose so she could make her move on him. Now she knows shiny things aren't always diamonds with that weak peen. In her mind, she thinks she has him and his money. The reality is, she's with a broke faker. Checkmate, bitch."

Portia guffawed and pointed to Killmonger's face.

"I respect you for trying to break my heart to humble me, but you can't play a player," she said.

She shoved him out of her way and strutted up the stairs, tooting her ass out so he could see it jiggle as she walked. Stopping halfway, she looked back at him.

"I'll act nicer with the staff just to make you feel better," she said.

Killmonger chuckled and shook his head. Baby girl was cold-blooded. Respect. He eased his big body up the steps and did quick surveillance all around the ship. Portia acted better with the servers, but she was still icy with the other mercs.

The next few days were dull and humid.

Boredom set in with the women, as the men only drank, ate, and slept for hours on end. Killmonger observed how Portia maneuvered around Tiana. Deadly sweet. It was like watching a scorpion slowly poison a frog as it rode the weaker creature's back. The shine of being with Quinton wore off Tiana, and he caught her brushing off the advances of her secret lover when they thought no one else saw them around the yacht. Portia knew everything that went on between them, orchestrating their dismal affair right under the noses of everyone present.

New Year's Eve rolled around and the trip was nearly over. He had to admit that the assignment wasn't as troublesome as he thought it would be. Quinton hired a fireworks crew to meet them on a separate boat at a rendezvous point in the middle of the ocean. Killmonger sent his mercs over to check out the other smaller ship with metal detectors, heat sensor devices, and a thorough inspection of the crew while he scuba-dived under the boat to sweep for explosives and hidden weapons. They inspected the fireworks being used, too. When one of his team helped him out of the water, he pulled off his scuba gear, and Portia watched him undress. Her eyes grew enormous when his scars came into view. The shiny lumpy brown flesh decorated him with a deadly artistic beauty, displaying every life he had taken in his line of work. He walked across the deck, dripping in seawater and muscles. A hunger grew in her aroused eyes to see more under the wetsuit.

"All safe," he said, whisking past her, carrying his air tanks to a rack.

He took his time pulling off the rest of his wetsuit, shaking his thighs, and grabbing his dick through his tight trunks to adjust the weight there.

Quinton walked over, clapping his hands together.

"All good?" Quinton asked.

"You can have your show tonight," Killmonger said.

Portia flounced away, shaking those ass cheeks, and his dick jumped in his trunks. The last few days she'd been a lot more suggestive with her behavior toward him, teasing him with flirty glances, and tugging on her swimwear suggestively in front of him that had Killmonger undressing her in his mind at night. He jerked off on his bed after taking a shower from scuba diving, imagining himself bending her over a railing and spanking her ass, rubbing his dick tip against her while she glanced back at him with those spoiled eyes and luscious, pouty lips. She needed to be punished. Needed to be on her knees and sucking his dick. If she complained about his length choking her, he would slap her and train her to show some respect for the gift of having his length stretch her mouth.

His erection was harder than steel and he kept playing an image of her begging forgiveness for being such a bitch. Killmonger wanted to cum all over her face and mess up that illusion of perfection she had about herself. Knowing what he did about her for nearly a week, he already understood that she would try to break his resolve and manhood down to control him. She needed a strong Daddy to put her right, and the thought of her sucking his balls while she stared at him with insolent eyes sent him over the edge, and ribbons of hot cum shot all over his hand and midsection. His dick was still hard as he beat it again, thinking of her pussy contracting all over his erection. She just had a way about her that made him want to tame her. Break her down. Force her to submit and sit that plump ass on his face.

He rolled over, groaning into his pillow, angry that she had reduced him to playing with himself when he was supposed to be overseeing his men. Cleaning up quickly, he went topside to check on the action above. Quinton and his guests had all retired for late afternoon naps to prepare for the evening's festivities. A fancy seven-course Mediterranean meal was planned for the New Year's celebration and they invited all the mercs to join in the fun with their shifts.

Portia wore her alabaster bikini again with a coral beach wrap skirt. Diamond earrings decorated her ears and a huge blue diamond necklace sat on her neck worth more than Killmonger made in a year legally. She toned down her make-up, going for a natural look, and the switch-up was extraordinary. It softened her face more, and she became even more beautiful.

Killmonger ate his fill of the gourmet food and allowed himself one glass of champagne before changing shifts with another merc. He kept his dark clothes on and strolled alone along the uppermost deck. The ship captain ate from a plate and Erik glanced over at the fireworks ship. He lifted the work binoculars from his chest and stepped back outside to observe the water and sky. No moon. Just stars stretched across the heavens, sparkling the jewels all over Portia.

The fireworks show started at eleven-thirty for a slow countdown to midnight. Killmonger positioned himself on the deck overlooking the stern. Below him, the rich guests gathered with more champagne and small desserts to watch the show. It was spectacular. Fireworks had never impressed him before, but he found himself looking at the sophisticated light show over the sea. Dazzling shapes and styles of explosives brought a magical ambiance all around them. Portia squealed and clapped her hands like a child, often pushing her face against Quinton's shoulder whenever an explosive boomed too loud and scared her. She looked cute while enjoying herself and Killmonger wondered why she couldn't be like that all the time. A certain type of sweetness exuded from her, as if she had put away that mask of cool she always wore, just to be a regular woman having a good time.

A server approached Killmonger with a tray of champagne.

"Why not?" Killmonger said, lifting a glass.

He drank it down and kept his eye on Portia, enjoying the fireworks.

Portia gulped down another glass of champagne and watched a firework turn into a rose in the sky. She clapped and oohed and ahhed to her heart's content. It was a beautiful way to end a relationship. A part of her actually felt a little bad about dumping Quinton after the trip. He would find someone new with a lower income bracket, hopefully, someone who loved him for who he was and not his wallet. The poor schlep was the type of dude who used money to buy his way into the quality of woman he wanted, which was not who he needed. Perhaps if Portia had remained a small-town girl working finance at a bank or small business in her old hometown, Quinton would've been deemed, in her mind, the catch of a lifetime. Alas, that was not the ocean current she rolled in. His ego was big, and he felt entitled to beautiful women simply because he had a dick and some money. Cultivating a personality, hobbies, or real solid friendships was not in his wheelhouse. Trophy girlfriends would never bring him happiness.

The champagne bubbles in her flute tickled her nose. She glanced over at Tiana who looked seasick from too much liquor in her system. Maybe there was some hope for Quinton being with her enemy. Everyone deserved love.

Portia was about to go check on Mimi in her cabin before it hit midnight. She gave the Pomeranian a doggy sedative to keep her from anxiety with all the fireworks noise, and she worried her fur baby would be frightened without checking in with her. The crackle of a spectacularly loud firework drew her attention to the sky again. A chain of enormous fiery lights popped off, and she glanced at her dainty Patek Philippe watch. It wasn't midnight yet for any kind of grand finale. Unless something bigger was about to erupt in the sky after that volley of bright multi-colored lights. She clapped and heard a loud popping sound.

"Did a firework not go off?" she asked.

Her girlfriends shrugged before a gigantic explosion rocked the bow of the ship that was not part of the show. The yacht lurched, and Portia fell to her knees off-balance with her platform heels. Smoke and flames filled her shocked eyes. Everyone nervously headed toward the front to see what the hell happened and more popping sounds commenced from behind them. Tiana fell on top of her with Carlos. Portia's two other friends shrieked and ran, cut down by a hail of bullets through their backs. Portia pushed the limp and bloody woman off of her legs and shoved Carlos away too. The man's eyes looked up at her with a lifeless stare, and Portia screamed. She stayed on her hands and knees to keep low while looking up toward the higher decks. Killmonger had a modified M249 up and shot toward the sea targets. The fireworks ship exploded into a reddish-orange fireball, blazing the night sky with more flames and thick smoke. Parts of that ship flew over onto the deck of the yacht. One of Killmonger's men shot a grenade launcher from his weapon, aiming for some enemy Portia couldn't see on the dark water.

"Portia! Stay down!" Killmonger called out to her.

She did what he said and hid under Carlos and Tiana again, trying not to lose it as their warm blood dripped all down her legs and pooled at her feet. She swiped some of the cooling blood from her limbs and wiped it all over her throat to make herself look injured and played dead on the deck. Quinton ran toward the side of the yacht, and Portia wanted to follow, but the volley of intense bullets whizzed over her head. She covered her face, hearing loud splashes of water and yelling. The mercs around her scuffled with people who had climbed aboard. A powerful arm lifted her up by her waist.

"You been hit?" Killmonger asked.

"No!"

A merc near Killmonger took a shot between the eyes and dropped in front of her.

"Let's go!" Killmonger yelled, helping a server go with them.

The attackers cut the server down in mid-step and Portia realized with horror that all the guests except for her and Quinton were in a dead bloody heap all across the deck. She only lucked out because two bodies fell on her, shielding her from becoming human Swiss cheese. Another of Killmonger's team ran past them to fight, giving cover. Killmonger led her to the secret emergency door that held the military boat.

"Wait! I have to get Mimi!" she yelped.

"Fuck that dog!" Killmonger yelled.

Portia pushed back on the tears that welled up in her eyes. Her poor baby was locked inside her little travel kennel. She'd die all alone in her crate without her Mommy. The yacht tipped to the side, knocked by another explosive. Killmonger helped her into the emergency boat and made her put on a life vest.

"Wait here," he said.

"Don't leave me!" she shrieked, clutching his free hand with desperate fingers.

"I have to check for other survivors on the yacht's crew."

Her heart thudded in her chest so fast it made her gasp for air. She sat inside the boat and grabbed one of the gray emergency blankets and pulled it around her, hiding down low in the boat in case an armed pirate burst in. Portia was small enough to look like a lumpy seat. The odor of smoke crept down to where she was, and after some time, she worried Killmonger was dead. She wanted to wait another ten minutes for him, and then figure out a way to get the boat out onto the water by herself before the entire yacht sank into the sea.

It became hard to breathe under the blanket. She made a little breathing space for herself where she could still be covered up, but the smoke from the fires above seeped down to where she was. The sounds of shooting had stopped. Silence took over, and she debated about going out to see if the pirates had left. Time kept ticking, and the boat listed. Adrenaline had kept her going. But now the tears flowed.

The emergency door burst open, and Portia held her breath and stayed perfectly still. Mimi's woozy and weak bark yapped for her. She threw off the blanket and Killmonger was there, carrying Mimi's travel kennel and a backpack. He handed Portia the dog and tossed the backpack on the boat. Pressing a few buttons on a side wall of the yacht, a release ramp opened and slid down toward the water. He pushed the boat more, and it slid easily with a quiet splash. The yacht leaned further over and they would have to hurry to avoid being sucked down with it.

Killmonger untied ropes that secured the boat to the off-ramp. His face was full of concentration and determination to get them out of there. He put the safety on his weapon and leaned over to drop it in the boat when a masked man wearing dark clothing similar to Killmonger's uniform charged him, jamming his AK-47 under his throat and choking him.

Killmonger flipped the man over onto his back, punched him once and whipped out a Glock from his waist, and blasted the man's forehead. Blood and brain matter splattered, and Portia was too shocked to scream. Killmonger leaped into the boat and started the quiet motor, guiding them away from the yacht. She watched the burning luxury boat slowly sink as they bounced across the water. The pirate boat that attacked them sat on the other side and she thanked God there was no moon because the flames from both ships burning distracted their attackers from seeing them. Portia closed her eyes and let the cool sea breeze dry the sweat of fear all over her. The further away they were, the safer she felt. Her breathing returned to normal once the yacht and the surrounding madness became a tiny shiny speck on the horizon.

Killmonger checked some guidance apps on his military watch computer and took them toward some uninhabited Greek island chains. After about forty minutes, they hid their getaway boat on a small rocky isle inside an island littoral cave that made Killmonger feel secure staying there until he could contact help. Waves had eroded away an opening in the limestone, creating a sea cave that hid and protected them from the elements. He stuck a small headlamp on his head, giving them the only light source to look around. Killmonger handed her one too, and she placed it around her forehead. He dragged the boat once they hit soft sand. The cavern was dark and warm, like a womb. There were flares and a bulky charged satellite phone on the boat.

"I'll use the phone tomorrow and shoot off a flare for rescue when it's safe. We may have to stay out here a few days," he said.

"A few days? Why that long?" she said.

"That was a coordinated attack. They'll be looking for survivors all night and tomorrow. They knew exactly how many people were on that yacht, and you and I are no longer there. It was a hit… on everyone," he said. "There's also a storm moving in and that will hinder rescue efforts."

"Maybe they'll think we drowned and just go," she reasoned.

"They will sweep for floating bodies. Trust me."

He stopped and looked at her hard. She had opened Mimi's crate and held her frightened dog on her lap.

"Portia… Quinton set this whole thing up. I saw and heard him talking with the hit squad when I grabbed Mimi. He left with them on the attack boat."

Portia shook her head.

"No… that's not true… Quinton's a tech guy. He doesn't know pirates and shit…"

"He's going to disappear like he's dead, too. Collect on all the insurance he had on everyone there and that yacht. You told me he was going broke. He fixed his financial problem by getting money for you, your friends, and his billionaire buddies. The men he hired are going to make sure you and I are dead, so we don't snitch on what really happened."

Portia looked down at Mimi and felt the blood rush to her head like she was going to pass out.

"I can't believe this. He killed all those people to save his ass financially."

Killmonger pulled out a cold bottle of water from the backpack he brought and handed it to her.

"Can we last for three days out here?" she asked.

He nodded and showed her a wide variety of goods stored on the boat.

"There's enough food on her for several days that could last a week if needed. Since there are only two of us, we can eat as much as we want and stretch it out if we have to. We have fresh water… blankets. Toilet paper, sunblock, bug spray. We're good. Just have to keep hidden from the clean-up crew."

Killmonger sounded confident, and Portia inhaled deeply. He saved her life and would protect her on their…

New home. She looked around the boat again. There was plenty of room on one end for them both to stretch out and rest. The weapons attached to the hull could thwart a small army. Portia sipped a little water, gave some to Mimi with a cupped hand, then placed the dog back in her kennel. She prayed her fur baby didn't bark after the sedative wore off completely.

Killmonger made soft pallets of extra blankets for them to sleep on while she turned off her light and stepped out of the boat. She walked back to the water. After rinsing the blood off of her body and shoes, she returned to him, and they both stretched out in opposite directions. She felt him move around on his end. Lifting to see what he was doing, she caught him taking off his uniform. He stripped down to his black boxer briefs and huddled back up under his covers. Portia changed positions and crawled to his end when her body spasmed. She rested against his back, spooning him to capture some of his warmth, hoping the shaking in her limbs would stop. Her body moved with uncontrollable, jerky movements and she felt cold. Killmonger faced her quickly and put his arms around her.

"What's happening to me? My arms and legs keep shaking," she whispered.

"You're going through adrenaline withdrawal. Shit was crazy that you went through, and your body was all keyed up for action. It's trying to get back to equilibrium."

"How do you seem so calm? Shouldn't you be shaking too?"

"I'm used to it. Don't worry. It won't last long."

He opened up his blanket to her, and she eased her face against his wide chest. The keloid scars were smooth and slippery-feeling against her skin. His heartbeat was a steady drumming to her ears. Her shallow breathing eventually evened out to match his, and she could rest calmly next to him. The scent of his skin had a soothing musk odor, some cologne mixed with his own sweat, giving off an intoxicating smell. He adjusted his body to give her more room, and she closed her eyes to sleep.

Waking up hours later, she opened her eyes to see him looking down at her with the softest brown eyes. For the entire yacht trip, he always wore a scowl on his face with narrow cruel eyes that held disdain for her. Now… she looked at another man completely. A roar of water drew her attention back toward the opening of the cave. The light pastel colors of dawn greeted them with shades of turquoise and honey yellow bleeding into a blood-orange tapestry. The rising tide rolled in, gently pushing their boat against the sand, rocking their bodies like a mother's hand tending to a cradle. Killmonger had the boat fastened to a stake that he pounded into the sand to keep them from floating out into the sea while they slept.

Sitting up, she admired the view. The clear, tranquil water sparkled as the sun rose higher and the colors in the sky changed into new brighter hues. It took Portia's breath away, bringing tears to her eyes. The rust color of the cave's roof seemed to glow. In the distance, she noticed other island chain formations that probably never had a human walk on them. She wondered if the awe she felt was the same awe that God had when the heavens and the earth were made complete. The scene before her looked like a painting. She spent most of her life drinking, partying all night, burning through rich men's money, and sleeping hungover until noon. When had she ever witnessed a sunrise like the one spread before her sober eyes? What a way to enter a new year.

Porta laid her head back down and noticed that her bikini top had fallen off in her sleep. She was topless in front of him. Throwing an arm over her chest, she glanced around for her knitted top.

"Don't trip," he said with a grin.

He reached above his head and handed her a small container of grape juice. She took it and drank down the sweetness.

"Hungry?" he asked.

She shook her head no, the fruit juice helping revive her blood sugar. Pushing the blanket away from her lower body, she luxuriated in the balmy comfort of the air. Tilting her head back, she noticed an opening at the top of the cave that dropped a beam of early morning light on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the inside of her lids turn red from the sun bathing her more. A calloused finger stroked down the side of her cheek. Portia's eyes popped back open as Killmonger dragged his index finger against her skin. She lifted a finger and traced one of his keloid scars across his right pec. He was her hero. During the shootout and explosions, he had his eyes on her, making sure she was safe.

Killmonger dropped his head down and kissed her. She could taste toothpaste and fruit juice on his tongue. A static sound interrupted their joining, and he pulled away from her to pick up the satellite phone. He spoke in a rushed tone, giving coordinates and relaying a warning about the attack and Quinton's hand in it. There was a personal locator beacon with a strong GPS tracker he was going to keep on so they could find them. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands, letting Killmonger deal with everything. Soon after, he shut the phone off to save the battery. Turning to her, he stretched his arms and sighed.

"It's going to take time to reach us. The storm is sitting over Crete and moving slowly. Rough waves."

"But they are coming?" she asked.

"Yes."

Portia fell onto her back and stared up at the cave roof with relief. People knew where they were and would find them.

"I want to eat now," she said.

Killmonger pulled out MRE packages and small disposable plates. She dumped out a packet of southwest beef with black beans and tortillas. There was a chocolate banana nut muffin and apple slices mixed in a spice sauce, a cheese spread, and peanut butter. Portia made herself a burrito, and the food gave her the calories and energy she needed. Killmonger made them coffee over a small propane stove he put together and joined her with his own meal.

"Not bad," she said, stuffing the muffin in her mouth.

"We can have a white meat chicken salad with crackers and pasta for lunch," he said.

She wolfed down her burrito and wiped her lips. Finishing quickly, she let Mimi out of her cage and fed her from the packs of fancy dog food stored inside the kennel with her. She let the dog run around in the cave's interior to relieve herself. Mimi stayed away from the water and occupied her attention quietly by digging holes all in the back of the cave. Looking around, Portia was happy to see there was nothing inside the small cave with them except sand and the tiny beach made by the water lapping inside gently. Killmonger pulled out a large tan camouflage netting.

"Step out. Grab your top," he said.

Portia stunned herself by noticing she had stayed topless the entire time eating. She tied her titties up and draped her wrap skirt around her neck into a dress. She slipped on her platforms and picked up Mimi. Killmonger covered the boat up with the netting, blending it into the background of tan sand.

"Put the dog in its kennel so we can look around and I can plant this tracker up high," he said.

"She'll bark," she said.

Killmonger rolled his eyes.

"Then carry her," he said.

He pulled on his pants, and she eyed the bulge at his crotch. His flaccid state was bigger than Quinton's erect state. Portia checked herself for thinking sexy thoughts in their dire situation.

Dire?

It wasn't, really. They had all they needed and good people were coming for them. He placed several water bottles, a Glock, the satellite phone, and the beacon locator, inside a small pack and slung it around his shoulders. She followed him out of the cave, stepping on vast rock formations on the side to keep from getting her platforms wet. Climbing up the side of a hill, they made their way through brush and mostly barren land. There weren't very many trees and the ones that existed were small, or dead, and had fallen over. She kicked a few on the ground and they crumbled from contact, drier than the heat cooking their skin. Killmonger was already a shade darker, and it looked good on him. His biceps were beefy and darker brown. Her own dark skin took on a red tinge with her rich color. At a glance, they looked like tourists ambling about looking for t-shirts to buy for back home, not shipwrecked targets for death.

"Ow!"

Portia tripped on some sand and eroding rocks, bumping into Killmonger and almost knocking him over.

"Watch it," he barked.

"Sorry! I wasn't trying to bump into you—"

"Take those ridiculous shoes off so you can walk better—"

"It's too hot."

"No, it's not—"

"Yes, it is—"

They fussed like an old married couple all the way to the highest point of the island. He stuck the tracker in the ground and checked to make sure it was working properly. Gazing out at the sea around them, Killmonger lifted binoculars from his chest and peered out further.

"See anything?"

"No."

"That's a good sign, right?" she asked.

Portia put Mimi down so the dog could sniff around and urinate. Mimi happily sniffed and marked territory. When she padded over too close to a drop, Porta scooped her back up. There didn't seem to be any wildlife at all.

"Do you think there are a lot of snakes on this island?"

"Maybe. I haven't seen much scat or midden left behind," he said, searching the sea with the binoculars.

"What's that?"

"Scat is animal shit, and midden is their refuse… the food they've nibbled on and left behind. I only spotted some anthills and one bird so far. Not much to sustain a lot of snakes."

He glanced over at her.

"Just walk hard. Your vibration will scare them off. Keep that rat dog in sight, though."

"She's a Pomeranian."

"Looks like a rat dressed in a hot ass fur coat."

Portia looked at her baby. Mimi did pant. She grabbed a water bottle from Killmonger's pack and poured some on the dog.

"Whatchu doin'?! That's for drinking," Killmonger scolded.

"She's hot. I don't want her to get sunstroke."

He held his hand outstretched.

"We're surrounded by cool seawater. Dunk her rat ass in that. Stop wasting what we need to survive!"

Portia pouted.

"I wasn't thinking about that. I just wanted to help her."

"Let me do all the thinking then…" he grumbled.

They explored more, trekking around the entire island in under an hour. She dunked Mimi in a pool of water that came up from a natural aquifer of fresh water near the cave entrance. Killmonger grumbled again, so she walked her dog into the seawater and cooled them both off. He shut his mouth when she removed her beach wrap and frolicked with Mimi until a small wave knocked her poor pooch over. She walked out of the water dripping with her diamonds glittering, making her look like a Black Venus rising to the mortal world. He licked his thick lips, and she shuddered at the thought of that mouth on her body. Killmonger was bossy and so easily annoyed by her. However, he was also attracted to her and Portia played into that whenever he gave a tired sigh with her antics spoiling her fur baby. She made a little condo property for Mimi with her dog kennel. Moving it far back in the cave, she gave the dog a bowl of water and dried dog food with space to call her own to keep away from Killmonger. She decorated the front of the crate with pretty rocks and shells she collected and doted on her little one until Mimi fell asleep, farting from all the snack treats Portia gave her to help with the stress of a new environment.

He checked in with the rescue team on the phone and made them lunch. She sensed he felt more relaxed after finding fresh water on the island that they could use if they needed to. They ate in silence together, sitting on the sand and staring at the water. To be stranded on an island with a trained killer wasn't such an awful experience. Underneath the rough exterior was a man who held her hand to help her move around the island, and who also made sure she was hydrated. He pointed out natural formations of some of the island's geography around them and double-checked for snakes as they stepped over fallen trees. She gripped his arm when they moved into questionable areas, and at one point, she slipped her hand into his as he guided her back down toward the cave.

She took a nap on the sand and woke up to a crackling fire. Killmonger had gathered wood and dried brush, making a cozy glow that couldn't be seen from the narrow opening of the cave from the outside. They watched a new sliver of moon rise and a blanket of blue-black sky rest over the island for the night. She grinned and nibbled on chocolate chip cookies, humming and rocking on her backside as she ate. He laughed at her.

"What?" she said

"You look like a little kid on a girl scout campfire trip," he teased.

"Funny, because I used to be a girl scout."

"A girl scout… and you didn't know what scat and midden were?"

"I must've missed that part. I just looked good in the uniform," she said.

He smiled, and the bright, genuine light it brought to his face made him even more handsome. Killmonger was fine, no doubt, but there was something else deep within him that made him even more attractive. She thought of the way he lifted her up with one arm, shooting with the other as he rushed her to safety. His eyes always slid over to hers, even before the attack, when they were floating in tranquility. Portia had teased him sexually, doing things to get a rise out of him. It had started as a dismissive act, letting him see what he would never have in life, and it changed into active taunting, daring him to step up to the challenge so she could smack him down and belittle his audacity to think he was ever on her level.

Sitting in a cave with a peaceful campfire, her gaze on him brought clarity. She had been attracted to him the moment he put her in check on their first meeting. People always did what she wanted, and he had been the first man to push back on her attitude. She picked at him every time he showed up in her face.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said.

"You couldn't afford my thoughts," she said in a playful tone.

He smirked, then added more wood to the fire. Her eyes drifted up to watch the smoke go through the hole in the high roof.

"You think they're done looking for us? Should we even have a fire with the smoke floating… they could see it."

"By now, they should think we're dead. They never saw us leave on the boat and the yacht is at the bottom of the ocean by now, so they can't even check to see about the emergency escape, even if Quinton mentioned it. I won't have this going for long," he said.

"I like it," she said, holding her hands and feet up, warming her fingers and toes.

They didn't need the extra warmth. The cave was already cozy, but it brought comfort to their predicament.

"I'll sleep out here tonight and keep watch," he said. "I'll have to hike around a bit too, to check in other directions from the top."

She looked around for a blanket or pallet on the sand. There was nothing to lie on. Perhaps his soldier ways let him sleep cross-legged and upright. Her eyes became drowsy. Standing and stretching, she stared out at sea, admiring the sizeable chunk of island rock that faced across from their private paradise.

"I thought a storm was coming," she said.

"It is. Can't you feel the temperature drop? The sky is changing too. Won't hit until later tonight, and it won't be as bad out here. The sheer rock of that island over there is shielding us, and the tide doesn't get very high in here. We're good," he said.

She nodded.

"Night," she called.

"Night," he said.

She checked on Mimi, then snuggled inside the boat with the blankets. Killmonger went and grabbed the solar lights that he sat out in the sun all day and brought into the cave, jamming them down in the sand near the boat. He even posted two by Mimi's kennel because Portia told him the dog was nervous about being in the dark. Her mind tried to stay positive. She wondered how bad the storm could be if the hole at the top of the roof flooded with rainwater. Killmonger didn't appear concerned, so she let the thought drop.

After an hour, a soft splash of water forced her to lift and see what the noise was. Mimi hated water, so there were no worries there. Portia spotted Killmonger on the far side of the cave, splashing his naked feet into the liquid heaven.

"Lord," she whispered into her own mouth, watching him.

He was totally nude and moved his body with an assured grace that made him look like Poseidon returning to the sea. She could not stop staring at his taut glutes and powerful thighs. His keloid scars were all over his back, too. Killmonger walked in waist-deep before dunking his head underwater and wetting his locs. He ran a hand over his hair and shook them, stretching his arms out wide, traveling deeper into the sea until she could only see his head. Going under a few times, he moved closer to shore, and she noticed the small bottle of liquid soap in his hand. He washed all over, rubbing his muscles, and cleaning between his toes and elsewhere. Rinsing off, he dropped the bottle of soap on the sand for later and put on his pants without his boxer briefs. He padded back over to the dying fire and stopped when he saw Mimi sitting near his previous seat.

"Getcho ass back in that kennel," he ordered.

Mimi only sat and stared at him.

He sat down next to the pampered pooch and placed Mimi on his lap. Portia giggled and hid under the blankets.

Smoke and flashes of a blazing fire blinded her eyes. The shouts of fear and the odor of fresh blood grounded her back on the yacht. She had moved so slowly. Champagne and the thrill of fireworks put her in a loopy mood and the horror of the attack froze her and probably saved her life. Tiana and Carlos ran and Portia stood there like a statue, her mind trying to fathom what was wrong with the scenario before she was tackled by the running dead and free-falling onto her back.

"No!"

Portia shot up inside the boat, her heart jackhammering in her chest. Her throat clogged with a scream as she relived the attack. Staring at her shaking hands in front of her face, she expected to see blood and brain matter again as another scream ripped from her lips.

"Hey, it's okay… shhh… it's only a nightmare…"

Killmonger jumped into the boat with her and the fading dream had her beating his chest thinking he was an attacker. The lucidity made her claw at his face and he pulled her into his chest, rocking her, cooing soft words into her ear to bring her back to reality and the safety of the cave. Mimi whined behind her and the sound of the dog snapped her to the present. She fell apart then, wailing into Killmonger's chest, her mouth wide open and unable to close as if the terror she endured would crawl out of her throat. Quinton tried to kill her. Her body could've been at the bottom of the sea becoming fish food and no one would know the truth of what he did to her or all of their so-called friends. Portia moaned and jammed a hand against her mouth.

"You're good, Portia. I'm here and we're okay. Just a bad dream…"

She looked up at his face, then wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned back in the boat, letting her rest on top of him. He stroked her spine and his rough hands on her bare skin brought her back from the brink of totally losing all control of her emotions. She wiped her eyes and covered her face, weeping quietly against him.

"I was waiting for this. Some people take longer to process what happened to them. You tried your best to act like you were okay all day," he whispered.

Her breath shuddered as his soothing voice and hands brought her into a calm state.

"I was so scared," she said.

"I know."

"It was so fast and… I couldn't move…"

"You did well considering all that was happening at one time… even wiped blood on yourself to fool them. That's thinking on your toes, Ma. Most people just scream and holler, then get caught up in the shock. You ran and did what you had to do."

"Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

"That was my job."

His fingers dragged up and down her spine, making her skin feel tingly and warm. She crawled off of him and snuggled into his side, hiding her face in his chest. Portia enjoyed being there. It felt comfortable and safe. He stroked her arms and tried to leave her side to return to his post, but she gripped his arm and pulled him back next to her.

"Don't go," she said.

A soft sprinkle of rain fell on the water. The storm had arrived. The pleasant patter of droplets striking the sea eased her mind and body. Her nightmare faded, easily forgotten, while cozied up against him.

"Try to sleep," he said.

Killmonger rested his head on the makeshift pillow his work jacket made and she stared into his eyes. The solar lights gave her a soft ambiance to look at him with.

"By tomorrow evening, they should be near enough where I can shoot a flare so they can pick us up. Hang on to that thought," he said.

She nodded into his shoulder and released a final shudder that loosened all the tension in her body. Absent-mindedly, she rubbed her fingers across the top of his naked chest, feeling the slick contours of his keloids against the pads of her fingertips. Tracing her fingers under his neck, she took a bold step and ran her finger across his full lips. Raising herself higher, Portia kissed him, enjoying the sensation of warm plush fullness outlining her own plump softness. His lips smothered hers as he took over the kissing. She expected a feral roughness with him, but he was buttery soft and so gentle with her mouth. Even his large tongue surprised her with how seductively slow it was exploring the inside of her mouth. Their kisses were languid and so unrushed that she could almost fool herself into thinking that they had been lovers in some other past life together. There was no clumsy fumbling newness as their tongues sought an understanding of their changed physical relationship.

She tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth, and he smiled. He kissed his own trail down her face and onto her neck where he buried those sharp gold teeth and nibbled on her throat, shooting sparks of pleasure down to her toes and back. Groaning out loud, she delighted in his fingers pinching her nipples through her bikini top. She untied it and freed her breasts. His hand palmed their fullness, and she glanced down at his crotch. His dick tented his pants. She helped unfasten them, releasing his erection. It was a hot, rigid thing in her hand and his head fell back, allowing a deep groan to release from his mouth.

"Stroke that shit," he huffed into her neck while untying the bottom of her bikini himself.

She moved over as he wiggled out of his pants and gasped when she saw his dick and balls together. Her pussy throbbed while looking at the heft and length. Pre-cum pearled at his tip and ran down the sides and she helped slicken that big dick in a hurry, eliciting more guttural moans from him. She liked the pleasurable sounds falling from his lips and squeezed her fingers around the bulbous tip. The hole there opened wider and clear fluid drizzled onto the gap of her thumb and index finger.

"Fuck, baby," he gasped when she twisted and tugged under the ridge.

His fingers found her clit and her pussy wasted no time becoming slick and wet, her folds opening up for him like a blooming rose. He stared between her legs, licked his lips, and flashed those gold slugs. She lost control of the tremors making her body weak for him. Slick sounds met his fingers, and he played with her pussy lips until she was begging for him to do more.

"Play with your pussy. Lemme see you do what you did on the boat when you were teasing me," he huffed.

Her diamond-crusted fingernails made her pussy so pretty for him. She could see his arousal grow in his glassy eyes. She rubbed her clit, then held her folds open. He licked his fingers and stuck them in her mouth. She sucked on them, showing him everything she could do for his dick. He closed his eyes and his lips parted. Panting, he played in her mouth. His big dick twitched and jumped against her thigh, spewing more pre-cum.

"Lemme play in this pussy," he begged.

She opened her legs, and he inserted two fingers inside of her opening, gently testing the limits of what she could take. Portia whimpered when he started tapping on the sides of her walls, flicking his fingers back and forth like a butterfly fluttering away. He knew how to stimulate pussy. Killmonger wasn't rough or jerky with his movements either. He watched her face to read what she could handle from him and kissed her often, slow and steady, binding Portia to him like he was kissing a magic spell into her mouth, conjuring more pleasure from the nerves that woke up all over her writhing body. He fingered her pussy and sucked on her nipples, turning her body into mush that the sea could wash away with the tide.

"Listen to that pussy… fuck… I knew this shit was good… fuck…" he moaned.

"Killmonger," she cried out as his fingers hit spots in her that hadn't been touched in so long.

"You loved showing this pussy to me. So fat in this bikini. Letting me see these pussy lips all the time… teasing me…"

He pulled his fingers out against the clenching she began doing around them. He sucked her juices from his fingers and admired the frothy wetness that glistened all over her puffy folds. Slapping her vulva, he stood up and forced her to her knees.

"Suck this dick," he commanded.

Portia obeyed, jumping to her knees and swallowing his dick head like it was her last meal in life. He pushed his dick in further and her mouth stretched around it. She pressed her hand on his stomach to control the depth, but he slapped her face. The shock of the sting aroused her, and she stared up at him with heated eyes and a throbbing pussy.

"You gon' take this dick how I feed it to you… spoiled bitch. Now suck on it… put those fucking hands away. I want all mouth, Portia."

Portia opened her mouth wider, and he went in deeper. She gagged while trying to suck and slurp, and her eyes watered, but Killmonger slapped the other side of her face, disappointed with her performance.

"I thought you were better than this. You can't handle this dick?"

Her forehead creased with anger. She always gave world-class head. No man had ever complained about her oral skills. She gripped the root of his dick and he slapped her hands away.

"I said all mouth, and I meant all mouth!"

He pushed her back, and the anger that sat on his face excited her. Killmonger wasn't pleased at all. She licked his balls and kissed her way back to his dick again to try better. Taking her time, she licked around the slit and under the head, coating her tongue with all the pre-cum that dripped from him. He dragged his tip across her lips, making them glossy, and nudged the seam of her lips back open.

"Let's see if you can do better," he said.

She adjusted her knees with the blankets and sucked on that dick tip, using her full concentration. Her suction with her lips improved, and she even grazed her teeth gently around him to switch up her performance. He treated her like a little puppet that needed her strings pulled when she didn't suck to his satisfaction. She worked her ass off to get a groan, a moan, or a "Good girl," to drip from his sexy lips. He patted her head and sometimes pulled her braids to force her lips to do better.

"How are you gonna pull that nut outta Daddy when you stay playin' like that? Huh? Is this your best?" he asked.

She popped his dick out of her mouth with a torrent of saliva falling onto her breasts and pouted.

"Not as good as you thought you were. Do better," he said, shoving his dick back in.

Portia wanted to cry. She gave him grade A head, and it still wasn't up to par. All the tricks she had used over the years to get men off failed her. There were moments when she thought she had made a breakthrough, but he grumbled and told her she was not even close to getting him off.

"Look up at me when you suck that dick," he said.

Frustrated, she gazed up at him as he deep-throated her neck. That gorgeous face and big ass lips had her pussy clenching on nothing but air. Her walls felt so swollen and ached for his dick to lay her out. A few tears streaked down her face as her frustration grew.

"That's a good girl. Now take some more of Daddy's dick. Show me you can follow directions," he said.

She wanted to please him so badly. He played with her nipples and breasts as she worked her neck, throating him down as best she could. Her loud gawking echoed throughout the cave.

"Jaws getting tired?" he teased in a mean tone.

He pulled his dick out and glared at her.

"Tell Daddy you're sorry for letting him down with that mouth," he demanded.

The gruff tone ignited the ache in her clit. He threaded the braids in the back of her head with the fingers of his left hand and tilted her head while fisting his dick. He gently yanked on her hair.

"What I say? Tell Daddy you're sorry for that trash sucking," he barked.

"I can do better," she pleaded.

"You had a long time to show me, and it didn't happen."

He grunted and stared at her ripe lips, his right hand working that length like he was ready to burst. Gripping her head with his hand, he bared his slugs.

"Sorry, Daddy—"

"For what?" he gasped, narrowing his eyes as he brought his tip closer to her whimpering mouth.

"—for not sucking your dick right. Please, I can suck your dick so good!"

Portia fondled her left breast and groped between her legs to flick her clit. Begging him for a chance to prove herself was the only goal she had in life. She needed him to cum… couldn't take her next breath until he was satisfied. Killmonger had scorn written all over his expression.

"Daddy, I'm sorry…" she whined.

"Oh fuck, dassit, dassit!" he shouted.

Hot cum shot out in thick ropes all over her cheeks and lips, accompanied by a roar from his throat that enhanced his release. She opened her mouth to catch the last drops of his orgasm and she came all over her own fingers while enjoying the pure ecstasy on his straining face.

"Damn, Portia… oh… baby… shit!"

Another streak of cum shot out, and he aimed it for the other side of her face. His ejaculate dripped down, and she rubbed it onto her chest, showing him how much it meant to have him all over her breasts. He gave a low laugh and stumbled back.

"Whew… damn, girl. I was tryna hold back for so long. Your head game is fucking superb."

She licked her fingers and then stared at him.

"You were playing with me?" she asked.

"Not at first. You're used to simps being satisfied with the bare minimum. I'm a grown-ass man who needs you to show and prove with this dick. It's not for the weak, and you showed the fuck out."

He lifted her up, and she didn't want him to do anything else until she had wiped her face and chest off with a wet wipe. Killmonger hugged and kissed her afterward. They stood in the boat, necking until she couldn't take any more. She climbed him like Santa Claus was bearing gifts and wrapped her legs around him.

"I want you sitting on my mouth," he said between desperate kisses from her lips.

She slid down his body and he situated himself comfortably on the blankets. Portia squatted over his face and planted her pussy on his lips. He let it rest there, feeling the wetness all over before humming and moaning into her flesh.

"Ooh," she moaned, scissoring her clit.

He slapped her fingers away, and she looked down at him. The glow from the lamps made his eyes a liquid brown dream, and he slathered that wide tongue up and down her folds, circling her clit with the tip. He held onto her ass cheeks and she mewled and bit her bottom lip to keep from hollering out his name. Killmonger slapped both of her ass cheeks before sliding his hands under and over her thighs to lock her down on his tongue. He made it stiff, and she lifted herself to let him insert it nice and snug inside of her. Cradling her breasts, Portia went up and down and he fucked her with tongue, lips, and groans that vibrated her folds.

"Killmonger!" she yelled, not caring if pirates, snakes, Mimi, the Coast Guard, or God heard her cries of pleasure.

His tongue was delectable on her pussy and inside of it. The strength of his hands supporting her, his burning gaze rooting her to his lips… everything about him gave her chills. The effort to cum was minimal. Her orgasm shattered her ability to think clearly anymore. She babbled something or other like she was talking in tongues at her old church back in South Carolina. Bucking and yelping made no difference. That man was going to turn her pussy out. She whimpered and fell forward, unable to move any limbs. His laughter at pleasing her bounced all over the cave and she joined him, reveling in the joy that their bodies could share with one another.

Killmonger held Portia carefully in his arms as they kissed.

The taste of the deepest part of her stayed on his tongue and he shared the gift of that with her. She clung to him as if she feared him disappearing into the wet, rainy night. He had to do a patrol and fished around for night vision goggles he found stashed in a sideboard on the boat. Putting on his pants and combat boots, he didn't bother to wear a t-shirt and just tossed on his black jacket. He stuffed the satellite phone into an inside pocket and strapped his Glock around his thigh.

Portia watched him under the blankets, staring up at him with so much lust that it tempted him to forego an island sweep to stay with her. Grabbing an unfinished water bottle, he knelt down next to her and pressed his warm lips against her forehead.

"Keep it hot for me," he said, winking at her.

He wasn't finished with her by a long shot. They only experienced oral sex, each taking turns to taste and learn the other's private parts intimately.

Killmonger trudged out of the cave with Portia's scent on his beard. He placed the night vision goggles on once he was out of her sight. He hiked around, searching the sea even as a light rain came down on him. Without Portia being with him, he could get around fast. He turned on the phone and checked for any missed calls from the Greek Coast Guard. They were operating under extreme weather conditions on their end, despite the mild display on their side. Killmonger was glad that they found a place to hide that shielded them. He hoped the bad weather stayed outside of Crete and didn't follow their rescue unit.

Nothing unusual appeared on the horizon. Confident that they were in the clear, he took a moment to let the soft rain bathe his face. He hiked back to Portia and rinsed himself off before getting back into their boat bed with her naked again. She threw her arms around him like she was his woman, greeting her man after a hard day's work.

Oh, how the tables had turned!

Hiding away turned her into a bubbly, humorous woman who sought beauty all around her. It mesmerized him, watching the glow on her face as the sunrise brought her to tears that morning. She was thankful for the plain food they had to eat, and she didn't complain too much about their situation or bug him about checking the phone more than he did. His leadership and take-charge attitude allowed her to fall back into a space of just living in the present. He liked that version of her and wondered if the ice princess persona would return once they were rescued. Killmonger hoped not.

He sank his tongue back in her eager mouth and they kissed for an hour, stopping to catch their breath and caress each other. Her eyes became dewy for him and she couldn't stop touching him or being hugged up next to him. He made her lay back and played with her clit, dipping his finger inside her pussy just to watch it contract around his fingers, trying to keep them inside.

His dick became a turgid beast and hung heavy between his thighs. There were no condoms available. He had some on the yacht where he thought he might need them if he found a babe to his liking, but the only woman who turned him on was Portia. On the ship, he knew there was no way they would ever hook up. He wanted to fuck the boldness out of her back then, just to wipe that bitch queen attitude off her face. It baffled him at how quickly she wanted to submit to his domination of her body with his. He had suspected she wanted to be dominated, but not that fast.

Killmonger could've busted a nut all over her from the first ten minutes of sucking she did, but he pushed her to the limit to see if she would fight his heckling of her throat game. How he was able to keep control over his release was a miracle. He was ready to blow his load when she spit on his dickhole and cradled his balls in her hand, staring up at him with those formerly insolent cat eyes. Killmonger kept pushing her until she broke and gave him what he wanted. Her apology made him cum so hard. All he could think about was her telling him to shut the fuck up when he told her about herself. That woman got on her knees and sucked the glory out of his dick. Begged to please him. That shit amped him up.

Portia held his dick in her capable hands. They both wanted to fuck.

God!

Nice tits. A dangerous ass. Mouth game beyond ridiculous. How was Quinton not in that woman twenty-four-seven the entire time on that yacht? Portia walked around with that prize pussy, advertised it to the world all week with skimpy swimsuits, and Killmonger regretted not throwing caution to the wind and just stepping to her. Game peeped game. They could fuck and fight afterward. She was most definitely throwing hints he could get it on the yacht, but he stayed professional.

He leaned down and sucked on her neck. She panted, squirming against him, and he fingered her pussy slowly until she squeezed her eyes shut and her mouth fell open in agony.

"Fuck… I wish I could give you what you need, girl," he groaned into her ear.

She touched his scars like they were precious to her.

"You can," she said in a hushed voice.

"Without a condom?" he said.

Her gaze didn't flinch, and she pouted those succulent lips.

"I almost got killed. I'm stranded on an island with a mercenary. A hurricane could blow through here and end us both tonight. I have nothing to lose," she said.

Shit.

Killmonger regarded her face to make sure she was serious.

"I'm checked for STIs every three months," he said.

"Six months for me. I've been with Quinton for a couple of years. We normally use condoms and have unprotected for special occasions only. He's a germaphobe and I'm pretty sure Tiana was his first outside fuck. I'm on the pill, and… well… like I said, tomorrow isn't promised. This entire trip taught me that."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Trust. I want to. Been wanting to."

She grinned and ran her hand over his locs, rolling the end of one between her fingers.

"I have, too. All that teasing was to get your attention."

"You had it the moment you walked on board that yacht. I didn't like you… but I liked your confidence," he said.

He played with the end of one of her braids and fondled a diamond hair jewel.

"Are you like this in private, when you aren't being theatrical with all the spotlights?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Unguarded. Open. Friendly."

"Sometimes. I run with a crowd that I have to have a protective shell with all the time."

"Sad life."

"What about you? You also put on an act. You're not mean all the time," she said.

"I'm direct. There's a difference. My job is life or death in precarious places with dangerous people."

"Have you ever lost an entire team before?"

"No. This was a major hit. Practically overkill. There were about ten men compared to my five, and they were using high-grade explosives. Most pirates want hostages or the ship itself. Those people came there for one thing. Do a wet job and bounce. You and I aren't supposed to be alive, Portia."

He cradled her in his arms. The scent of her hair was sugary sweet, like some exotic fruit and nutmeg. Their ardor cooled with their private thoughts and Killmonger listened to the rush of water lapping onto the cave shore. The wind picked up and howled down from the four-foot hole in the ceiling. He stayed awake and Portia slept deeply, the rise and fall of her chest soothing to him. If she had another nightmare, she'd wake up with him holding her. At two in the morning, he snuck away to patrol again. Heavier storm clouds accumulated in the distance and he expected stronger weather soon. A boom of thunder and spidery streaks of lightning zig-zagged across the sky. He popped the collar on his jacket and used his night vision goggles. A vast emptiness stretched out before him. For all he knew, they were the only people in the entire world. The cell phone had poor reception and the battery life was low. Hell, if no one showed up, they'd have to chance it back on the water. There were paddles and he'd get them to Crete one way or another with his own arm power once all the gas was used. He flipped on the locator beam's distress signal light. Survival was second nature to him. They would make it out.

Killmonger took his time going back to the cave. The darkness, the wind, and the rain comforted his mood.

No more civilian gigs.

He took the job as a favor to Clark, but he missed the offensive action of being in foreign countries. He'd give Clark a piece of his mind when he got back. The men he put together for Killmonger should not have allowed those killers to get that close. He had four men on water detail in all directions, and they allowed a boat to hit them swiftly and deadly. They were all executed, so he doubted they were in on the take. He would've caught on right away that it was a set-up when he first arrived. The attack crew had to have used a submersible to plant the explosives against the hull. It was something he would've done.

A heavier thunderstorm arrived, and he jogged back to the cave.

Portia was still asleep. Mimi was up, digging holes in the back of the cave, too distracted to bark or whine at him for attention. He took off his jacket and boots, climbing back beside Portia for warmth. She had curled into the fetal position under a blanket and looked so vulnerable. The cooler air and rain on his body made him shiver a bit, and he went to make another fire.

By early morning, the storm kicked up and the tide level in the cave increased. It wasn't enough to make them leave because the giant boulders and jagged smaller island formations surrounding the cave kept the larger waves from crashing to shore on them. The gigantic grayish-black clouds made the interior darker, adding to the dreary atmosphere as large raindrops showered their private beach.

Portia ate a cold-weather MRE of scrambled eggs, fruit bars, oatmeal, and a bland trail mix. He made them coffee again and ate his own meal before catching some sleep. With no phone reception and the bad weather making visibility terrible, he could afford to rest for an hour or two. He listened to Portia bathe on the other side of the cave. She hummed with a pleasant voice and spent some time by the fire alone with her dog.

The storm kept them quiet, and they became occupied with other things rather than each other until she found a kit of tiny board games inside a sealed bag. There were checkers, chess, Tic Tac Toe, and a deck of cards. They played speed with the cards and hunkered down to play checkers before lunch. Hunger and lunch skipped them as they got into a serious chess match. Later, they both played with Mimi, letting the dog chase them around the cave until Erik shouted bloody murder and flailed his arms around.

"What is it? What is it?" Porta shrieked, scared out of her wits.

"A spider dropped down on me!"

Portia blinked a few times, then burst out laughing. He swiped at his locs and a quarter-sized furry brown arachnid fell out of his hair and scurried on the sand. Mimi chased after it and they both beat pieces of wood on the ground trying to smash it. The dog gobbled it up and Portia grabbed her stomach from laughing so hard.

"Your big butt was scared of that little thing? I thought a tarantula fell on you!" she cackled.

"It's all the legs that creep me out, and they move real sneaky," he grumbled, embarrassed that he showed a weakness in front of her.

"Poor baby," Portia said, patting his back, "Mimi saved you."

He chased after Portia and lifted her over his shoulder, spanking her backside for teasing him. Another bigger spider dropped from the roof and landed on Portia. She damn near came out of her own skin trying to swipe it out of her hair. Killmonger let her run around like a chicken with its head cut off to teach her a lesson about making fun of him. She walked around with the heebie-jeebies afterward, terrified more spiders would come raining down on them like a horror movie. Rain, thunder, and spiders were forgotten when they crawled back into the boat together for a nap. She traced the shape of his scars with her fingers again, and he rested his chin on her head.

"I know this sounds crazy, but I really like it here with you," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

She nodded against his chest.

"I thought I would go stir crazy, but I'm actually grateful to sit still. Weird, huh? No TV. Internet. People. Just peace. No distractions. No one to impress or look good for. It feels like we're Adam and Eve here."

"No apples or snakes, though," he joked.

"What do you do when you don't work?"

"I sit still. Like this."

"Where?"

"That's classified information."

"Really."

"The less you know about me, the better."

"Is Killmonger even your real name?"

"No."

She never asked for his name. He was glad. She took the hint.

"We'll never see each other again after this," she said.

"No, we won't," he said with finality.

"You make me laugh, and you're a skilled chess player."

"You're not too bad yourself."

Portia sat up and took off her bikini again. Her eyes were loving and drank in his face. She helped him undress, then kissed him all over his face, touching his chin, and giving her lips to him before kissing down his chest, following the trail of hairs below his belly button until she had his dick in her mouth. She bobbed her head, and he said her name softly, praising her for how good she made him feel. Pushing him back, she held his dick upright and aligned it with her opening. He held his breath as she sank down on him. She grunted when she reached the bottom. His dick had her folds stretched all around him tight, creating a snug suction as she went up and down, taking her time. They locked eyes, and the arousal overwhelmed him. He gazed at their connection like he was in a daze and her pussy made his thickness shiny and slick. Portia rode him so well that his back arched and he lifted to press her against his chest as he thrust into her. Up and down she went, caressing her nipples, those expensive, icy-looking fingernails highlighting the hidden treasure that she was beneath all the posturing.

He had looked down on Portia before meeting her, his disdain at her Sugar Baby ways clouding his judgment on who she really was as an individual sans the glitz. Fucking him like that in a hollow cave on a lone island proved to him she was worth pampering and spoiling. If he had the money, he'd spend it on her himself. The pussy taking care of his dick was priceless.

"Turn around," he gasped.

Portia lifted and swung her legs the other way, leaning forward as she wiggled her backside for him. He palmed a fat cheek and her pussy swallowed his dick. She rocked back on him and he was blessed to watch her ass jiggle and his dick stretch her out at the same time. He whimpered in his throat with his entire face scrunched up at the intense pleasure. She rode the tip of his dick, and then placed those diamond nails on her ass cheeks, spreading them wide so he could see her pussy work. He slipped his thumb in her ass, and Portia moaned. She drenched his dick and the gushy sounds harmonized with his groans.

She showed out.

Circling her waist, she twisted her pussy on his dick and he couldn't take it anymore. He slapped her ass and forced her onto her hands and knees. Clapping her cheeks was the goal, and he made Portia call out his name as he gave her what she needed. Her pussy became disrespectful, and he tamed her depths, gripping her waist and deep dicking her nice and slow.

"Killmonger… Killmonger… Killmonger…" she panted.

The need to dominate surged in his loins. Flipping her over, he forced her to take the dick she so richly deserved. The pillow princess vanished and in her place was an erotically in-tune woman with full-body engagement. He threw her legs over his shoulders and cursed at how satisfying her pussy felt all around him. She had to have diamonds on her walls because whatever amount of money rich men spent on her wasn't enough. Her grip on his dick had him moaning and choking up his curse words in his throat. She took him deeper and his glutes clenched tight, helping him pump death strokes into her. The cave was full of squelching and grunts, and he watched their shadows moving on the cave walls from the fire. Her hips wiggled seductively, and he hunched down low to kiss her lips and feel her breasts smashed against his chest. They were beyond fucking at that point, moving into the primal state like they were the first man and woman to ever make love.

Scooting to her side, he held her legs up and stroked her walls from a new angle that knocked the sense out of her. Those pouty lips stayed open and her eyes took on a glazed look as if she couldn't believe what was happening to her. Her breasts bounced with each thrust and she glanced down to watch his dick ruin her. She chewed on her lip when she saw what was happening to her pussy. He snaked his hips and hit another angle within her and she called out to God. He stayed working that spot, stroking it until his body became a stiff plank focused on only one task: making her cum hard on his dick.

She rubbed on her clit, and those pretty nails had his balls moving.

"Baby… I feel it… 'bout to cum…" he gasped.

"You wanna cum in my pretty pussy?"

The wantonness in her voice urged him on.

"Pussy so good… fucking me so good… dick so hard…" he chuffed with abandon

"You want to make a big mess in my pussy?"

Her voice electrified him. It pushed him to give her his best and yet it challenged him like she was internally comparing him to others and he was coming up short. It was arousing, but it irked him too.

"Take it… take Daddy's dick," he grunted.

Her eyes changed, became coquettish, and it threw him off. His skin was on fire and dripped with sweat, and the sound of her voice encouraged him to tame that pussy. She dared him to. Portia's face transformed into a woman who wanted some Daddy dick to control her. Her right hand fondled the nape of his neck and those long nails scraped there with seductive pressure.

"I don't know if I can take all this dick the way you want," she taunted. "So big…"

He groaned, and she latched on to that sign of weakness.

"You're taking it… all this dick," he grunted.

"Are you sure? I'm trying to make it all fit for you," she said, all breathy.

"Oh, fuck!"

What was she doing? Playing coy? She acted like some virgin who had never had dick before. Her tone was ultra-feminine. She tucked the nail of her index finger between her teeth and looked down at his dick stretching those sweet walls. Her eyes were wide with wonder at the sight, and that coquettish energy fed him what he needed. Dominance.

"Nobody fuck you like this?" he grunted.

She shook her head and kept her eyes on his dick, with that finger still in her mouth.

"Fuck my pussy," she said.

She looked at him with sweet, innocent eyes.

"Goddammit!" he cried out. "Spread those pussy lips!"

Portia widened those sticky folds and the sides of her fingers glided along his dick as he gave her all that he had left. She kept her finger in her mouth with her other hand and her beauty pushed him to the brink. He mounted her again in missionary and his sweat fell on her like the rain falling on the water. She kept her legs up, that pussy open, and that damn lone finger between her lips. Her reckless eyes gazed at him and his dick swelled.

"I'm cumming! Oh shiiitttttt, I'm cumminggggg," he yelled.

He shoved his hips forward and Portia pursed her lips. She squirmed and lost the battle to hold on.

"Ohmigod… Killmonger!" she shouted.

Her head fell back and her pussy contracted with strong clenches all along his erection. Their shouts of pleasure intertwined and became one with the back and forth of their bodies squeezing and throbbing together. He caught himself before collapsing on her, pulling out his dick and fisting the last of his cum all over her clit. She was a pool of sweat and satisfaction, and they gasped for air, staring at the cave ceiling. The rain continued to fall.

Portia curled against his chest.

Sleep came fast.

He woke up, and she was gone. So was Mimi.

Killmonger called to them before putting on his clothes and grabbing his pack. It was only early evening, and the rain had stopped. Fat gray clouds still squatted over their island, but the storm's driving power had moved on. He found Portia and Mimi at the peak near the beacon.

"Went for a walk," she said.

He sat down next to them and pet the dog on the head. Mimi licked his hand. Pulling out the binoculars, he checked the sea. A cool breeze ruffled his locs. The wind was still strong, and the water had a few whitecaps.

Wait…

There!

A ship.

Killmonger honed in for the telltale signs of Coast Guard markings. There was a Greek flag waving from the gray and white ship. Greek lettering in big white caps spelled out Hellenic Coast Guard. He watched it approach to make sure it was the real deal before pulling out the flare gun and shooting it. Dark orange smoke shot up high in the sky.

"It's them?" Portia squealed.

"Yep."

She hugged Mimi, and he turned on the emergency cell. The power went out, but he didn't care. He held Portia's hand, and they walked down to the cave. There was nothing to do but push their emergency boat into the water. It had just enough gas left to power them out into the open sea. Killmonger didn't want to wait for them to send a smaller boat. He needed Portia in a safe place fast with Greek government protection.

They sped out on the water, bouncing on the choppy waves. Porta kept looking behind her like she wanted to keep the image of their island in her mind. He gave her his outer shirt to wear on top of her bikini. She curled her legs under her wrap dress.

Killmonger aligned their boat against the large Coast Guard ship and the crew helped Portia up on a side ladder. He tied their boat to the larger one and knotted a rope around Mimi's dog crate so a crew member could help the dog get on board. Finally, he climbed up himself. The captain of the ship greeted them and gave them both blankets and hot coffee. Portia was damn near teary-eyed and she pressed herself against Killmonger, afraid to leave his side.

"Come inside," the captain said when the weather picked up outside.

They followed the man into a busy interior and sat down on cushioned seats that felt good after sitting on the sand and a hard boat bottom. A crew member handed them mugs filled with a thick Greek soup. They ate and Portia asked to use the head. She was led away further into the interior. The weathered-face captain asked him some questions and Killmonger's sixth sense kicked in.

Something was wrong.

There were too many men on the ship not dressed appropriately. Only the captain and a lieutenant had on a proper Greek Coast Guard uniform with their ranks on them. The others had dark clothing without rankings or insignias. The captain gave a weak smile and the perspiration on his forehead didn't go with the cool interior. Killmonger kept his tone normal.

"How soon can we make it back to the mainland?" he asked, thrusting his empty mug out for more hot coffee.

"It will take time. The weather has been tricky. We almost lost your signal," he said.

Killmonger nodded and moved over to a window. He counted the other men outside to get an accurate assessment of what he was up against and thanked his lucky stars that he opted to keep his Glock under his jacket. When he contacted the coast guard for help originally, he kept his identity vague, pretending to be a guest of Quinton. The attack team must've intercepted the Greek Coast Guard for their own nefarious use as a getaway ship. It had become a death trap for him and Portia.

Portia returned, all chipper. Her ice princess personality snapped back like a rubber band. She glanced at him and he pretended things were all good.

"Hey, baby, put Mimi back in her cage. We don't want her running around," Killmonger said.

The forced affection in front of the others surprised her. She walked over to the dog kennel near him and bent down to place Mimi inside it. After she locked the crate, Killmonger slipped an arm around Portia's waist and gently had her sit next to him.

"More soup?" The captain asked.

"No, thank you. When will we get back to Crete? Or is Athens where we're headed?" she asked.

Portia looked at Killmonger, and he sipped on his coffee to keep from answering right away.

"Would you like to rest, Miss Keith?"

The nervous lieutenant sensed the tension that had risen in the galley.

"There's an empty bunk you can sleep in until we reach port," the man said.

His name badge said Makris.

"You should go lay down. I'll check on you later. Take Mimi with you," Killmonger said.

Portia caught on that something was off. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"If there's a door, lock yourself in there," he whispered in her ear.

She kissed his lips and picked up Mimi. Portia showed no fear as she followed Makris. She played it cool and calm, like an iceberg. Good girl, he thought.

Killmonger had fourteen rounds in his Glock. He counted seven false crew members and only two regular ones. The rest of the original crew were dead somewhere on the ship or tossed overboard. He assumed Quinton had escaped on some other watercraft to separate himself from the killers. They wouldn't rush to kill them all until nightfall, with darkness as a cover. Something must've happened to their ship in order for them to risk hijacking a Coast Guard operation.

"She has heart medicine she needs. I forgot to bring it up from the boat we used," Killmonger said. The lie rang true to the men.

"We can have someone go down and get it for you," the captain said.

Vlachos. The captain's name badge gave Killmonger a second to look away from a bulky merc who sized him up.

"It's in a side slot in the back," Killmonger said, following the man out onto the deck again.

The bulky man climbed down the side of the ship and rooted around.

"The back," Killmonger called down.

The man held up his hands.

"Hold on," Killmonger said.

A few more killers came out to watch him as he climbed down. One in the boat. Six up top. Perfect.

"That boat has a lot of tricky compartments," Killmonger said.

A wave buoyed the boat, and they both lost their balance for a second. Killmonger pretended to dig into a slot near the side of the ship and unlatched the boat, letting it float away. He dropped low, pulled out his Glock, and shot the bulky man dead. The man fell over the side with a soft splash. Shots from above popped over his head, but he turned on the motor and glided around the other side. Once he reached the gap he needed, he slammed his hands around the front M60 7.62mm machine gun and blasted at the men. He ripped through four right away. One caught him slipping and clipped Killmonger in his shoulder. It wasn't enough to stop him, but the distraction gave Vlachos and Makris the opportunity to jump the last two killers and wrestle them. Killmonger zipped back toward the ladder again. He hooked the boat and hustled back to the top. Vlachos took a shot in the chest but apprehended one assailant. Makris knocked the gun out of another merc's hand and bashed his head against the deck floor, knocking him out.

Blood pooled and cooled all over the deck with the other dead men.

Portia ran out of seclusion and grabbed him so hard that it knocked the wind out of him.

"Your arm," she said, touching his bleeding wound.

Killmonger shrugged it off.

"We gotta help him," Killmonger said, nodding over to Vlachos.

Vlachos waved them away.

"Bullet passed right through," Vlachos said.

Makris helped the captain back into the galley and tended to both injured men with a first aid kit. They revealed to him the sordid story of how they ran into the armed men on their way to find them, coming across their distressed vessel that had stopped working because an engine fire left them stranded. The hijackers shot their initial crew of eight down to only two when they tried to fight back.

Killmonger was exhausted by the time he tried to rest on a bunk bed. Blood loss tired him out and so did Portia, who fussed over him with tears streaming down her face, thinking she had heard him being killed. She crawled on top of him despite his pain, too frightened to leave his side. He fell asleep to her soft humming and stroking of his locs.

Portia, Makris, and Vlachos arrived in Crete the next morning.

Killmonger had disappeared.

The military boat they escaped with was gone. She relayed the deadly adventure to the press and her photos were blasted worldwide. First came the press tours, then the exclusive paid interviews. A book deal followed along with a movie deal and three-part docuseries. She milked every opportunity to tell her story as the only survivor and was paid handsomely for it.

Returning to New York, she hid out in a penthouse for months, searching all over the internet for any trace of Killmonger. If it had not been for Makris and Vlachos corroborating that the man did indeed exist, she may have convinced herself that he was a figment of her overactive imagination. Two of the killers that survived the Coast Guard ship confessed to being hired by Quinton. A global manhunt seemed never-ending. When billionaires were murdered in cold blood, people cared. She attended memorials to all the victims, making sure she looked fabulous in Thom Browne and Prada fashion with her signature Chanel shades. Portia wasn't close to any of the people she partied with on the yacht, aside from Quinton. However, leaked photos from her private social media account showed merry faces prior to them leaving Athens on the first day of the New Year's trip. It brought comfort to the families, and they invited her to spend weeks in various billionaire enclaves where she spun stories about their rich sons being brave and attempting to save the women. All lies. But it gave the loved ones a sense of closure and peace.

After a year, her life returned to jet-setting and fashion weeks all over again. Her misadventure bolstered her popularity because of the glamorous photos of her being escorted from the Greek Coast Guard ship in her knitted alabaster bikini. For someone experiencing a traumatic event, Portia looked fashionable as fuck.

Media ate up the haunting tale of Quinton living a double life somewhere. Media blasted his life history around the world as the biggest true crime story to come along in years. Many speculated that he had drowned or killed himself because he couldn't be found anywhere. Portia guessed he lived in a country where he couldn't be extradited. The hoopla died down until her book came out. Then there was a buzz about the casting for the movie. Depression set in then.

Portia visited a few therapists, but none could help her cure the anger that sat in her spirit like venom that she couldn't spew out. She wanted Quinton's head on a plate. He needed to pay for what he had done. It didn't matter to her that the people he killed weren't her genuine friends. He ended human lives because of greed. She couldn't get over that he took the bitch route to jumpstart his fortunes. As smart as he was, he couldn't develop or create something new and amazing that made him rich in the first place. An existential dread lived in her gut. Portia couldn't free herself from the lack of justice. Jetting around the world with Mimi in tow didn't heal the pain. New diamonds, furs, and fancy cars lost their luster. Revenge burned in her soul.

She turned toward the dark web to search for Killmonger. Using some of her movie money, she hired the best ex-CIA and former Black Ops agents to help her find her mercenary lover. One former field agent told her the best that could happen was Killmonger would catch wind of her search, but no one could actually contact him. That was good enough.

The Swiss Alps looked like he imagined.

Cold, white, and jagged.

The job called for a remote location and this was as remote as it got. Killmonger rolled the late-model SUV into a long, isolated driveway that hadn't been plowed for a while. He parked when he couldn't drive any further, and dragged a large black duffel bag out of the trunk, along with an arsenal of small weapons in a backpack. The thick powdery snow cushioned and muffled his steps. All the lights were on in the mountain luxury chalet he came to. His target was inside. The cloudless night sky made the snow glittery with the moonlight and security lights surrounding the property.

Cold air made puffy clouds of his breath. His lungs burned from the exertion and altitude. He tapped his wrist computer and all the security cameras shut down within the chalet. The woman inside had a wineglass in her hand and talked on a cell phone, clueless that he was outside approaching with stealth. The lights in the interior winked out, then came back on suddenly. She turned her head and stared out through the large glass windows. Her eyes glossed over the valley below that was filled with snow that would have more dumped by midnight. Flakes had already fallen down on his way up a winding road.

He waited.

The front door opened, and the beauty stepped out in a long white fur coat reminding him of Goldie from the old Black flick, "The Mack". She still rocked expensive diamonds, and Ma carried herself like the ice princess she would always be.

Portia.

He stepped into the light and she grinned, relief creasing her brow and her lush lips spreading into the biggest smile. His heart dropped for a moment. She almost looked like she did back on their island.

"Killmonger," she said.

Her voice made him move toward her. She helped him with the small backpack and he hauled the duffel up the steps and into a cozy, warm interior. A fire burned in the fireplace and Mimi jumped around his legs.

"Hey rat dog," he teased.

He dropped the duffel near the door and lifted the dog. Portia took off her coat, revealing the slinky silver dress with the low-cut front he admired before he came in.

"Bring yourself over here," he said, dropping Mimi to the floor.

She sauntered to him, walking like a runway model, exaggerating her hips as she moved and draped her arms around his neck. He inhaled her lovely scent and memories rushed back of him and her alone… making love. Killmonger kissed her first, and she opened her mouth to envelop all the warmth of his tongue.

Two years.

They hadn't been in contact with each other in two years since he disappeared from her life. He went back to work for Clark and dropped off the radar soon after. The fame of their adventure dazzled his eyes when he went to a movie theater in Morocco and watched a film that was almost true. The actress that played Portia was gorgeous, but she lacked aloofness and sublime sensuality. Their sex scenes were amplified and gratuitous. There were long scenes of them fucking in water that never happened, and also one of them screwing on the Coast Guard ship. Also, untrue. The actor that was supposed to be him wasn't even a close approximation of Killmonger, but women loved him at the box office and the film became a blockbuster. The docuseries blew up, too. Portia became a media star and super-rich by doing nothing except being beautiful and caught up in some greedy foolishness. Some girls had all the luck with pretty privilege. The anomaly was her being a beautiful Black woman with an intriguing action-adventure-romance story. It did not shock him when Hollywood tried to white-wash the film by recasting Portia as a white blonde. That idea dropped, but they did cast a Black biracial British actress to play her. Think pieces blew up around that.

He got word of her searching for him.

It was only a matter of time. He thought of her often as he worked throughout the Middle East and West Africa. His notifications blew up during fashion weeks and he scrolled timelines to see what she had on and found out how her life was going. She dated often, but nothing serious. Her mystique intensified and everyone wanted her at their major events and parties.

He sensed her unhappiness.

Quinton, getting away with murder, rubbed too many white, rich people the wrong way. A Black man double-crossing billionaires and profiting from it... alive somewhere? Unheard of. Portia survived with the sting of betrayal hovering around her.

Killmonger smacked her ass, and she gave him the glass of wine in her hand. He drank it down, and she took it away, resting it on a side table.

The duffle moved.

Mimi growled and barked at the large black canvas bag and Killmonger knelt down, unzipping it. Stuffed inside was Quinton, tied and gagged. Portia picked up the smaller backpack she carried into the chalet for Killmonger. She opened it and he moved his hand around in it.

"Your choice of weapon, Ma," Killmonger said.

Portia lifted a modified Maxim 9 with a built-in silencer.

"What a way to ring in the New Year," she said, kissing him.

She dropped to one knee and peered at her prey.

"Hello, Quinton. Long time no see, baby," she said.

The iciness of her voice chilled Killmonger. Quinton's desperate eyes pleaded for mercy. She would give him none.

Portia zipped the bag up and stuffed the Maxim 9 back into the pack. She grabbed Killmonger's hand and pulled him toward some stairs.

"I'll save him for midnight when the fireworks go off. Right now, I want you," she purred.

Killmonger followed his ice princess. They had some reacquainting to do in the privacy of a luxury bedroom with fresh snow falling outside.

"Happy New Year," he whispered before kissing her all over.

A.N.:

Brought an oldie but goodie back! I first published this on here back on October 11, 2022, a month before "Wakanda Forever" came out. I thought I would expand this into a longer piece and indie publish it with some other stuff I took down from here, but I decided to put it up again because we need fun things to read in these daunting times with Cheeto dust back in office. Enjoy and please reblog!

[dualityvn]

You know i really was just trying to be nice too, I thought logically thinking, why be around someone who is going to keep toying with you? I made a big mistake so doing what even your own brother should have done before being attached to you is to just simply leave, everyone wins, you get the people that love you and I get someone else to toy with, wasn't even insulting you but the version that could HANDLE me! It's not my fault you took it as a insult when I made it just a fact, so how about this for the rest of my days here, even though, your being stubborn and can do whatever you want, will keep doing that, as for I? I will be gone here by my own according Until you realize this is the best so have fun with the anonymous asks and everyone else here because just as your UT self, you both are such stubborn asses to lighten up, and I'm only being mean to you now and before in hopes you STILL WILL REALIZE TO STAY AWAY FROM ME, IT WAS A MISTAKE BEFORE AND I MEANT EVERY WORD WITHIN THAT SORRY NOTE, until your own feelings and be lighten up. I'm gone out until you learn how to get it together and stop acting like I turn around and lied when I thought what was best is to give you, your own peace.

"So you're just going to leave. Just like everyone else. My parents kicked me out because it was for the better. My friends left me one by one because it was for the better. My lovers broke up with me because it was for the better. You all say that and it always ends up with me alone! How is it better? I don't want to be alone anymore! What am I doing wrong? Why is the only person who won't leave the one that's physically incapable of it!" - Keith

[jiveyuncle]

All of the art I post is going to be hella out of order, but these set you up for the fic’s initial premise pretty well! A justly pissed, grudge-holding Lance and a clueless, reincarnated Keith.

Keith gets a blessed 30 seconds where the only sound is his sword slashing through shrubbery before Lance decides to start up again. "You know what I don't understand?" He asks, his words drenched in incredulity.

"The desire for peace and quiet." Keith vaults over what he assumes is the equivalent of a fallen tree on this planet.

Lance ignores his response. "Why you came back so small and fragile and weak."

"Clearly, because I'm not whoever you think I am."

A scoff. "Oh, you absolutely are. Your taste in bad hairstyles alone is a dead giveaway."

Keith glares over his shoulder. "I am this close," he pinches his fingers so close together that the space between them is arguably nonexistent, "to disproving your assumption about my strength and letting your little prophecy that I'm a threat become a self-fulfilling one."

Lance blinks, and then the forest is filled with raucous laughter. He leans against a low hanging branch in bewilderment, and the first sign of actual amusement lights up his features. It's downright blinding. "Seriously? You can't say something like that with that face and expect me to believe you're someone else. It's such a you thing!"

You can read the fic here:

[keithsandwich]

Belonging

Gen (referenced Keith/OC - Maeve)

Word Count: ~1.4k

Rating: General Audiences (SFW)

Tags: Time Traveling, Kid!Maeve, Mild Blood (Scraped Knee).

Summary: Maeve receives an unexpected guest in the conservatory.

Notes: Thank you @solacedeer for the idea and @lorei-writes for always being amazing and helping me edit my stories 💕 Also, thank you @fang-and-feather for kindly letting me use an Indicolitian name for Maeve's father :)

Maeve hummed a song mindlessly as she poured hot water into the teapot. Golden dried flowers swirled inside, releasing a soothing aroma that mingled with the symphony of herbal scents already filling the conservatory air. It was such a peaceful time of day. The kids were either studying or napping, and Keith was about to take a quick break to join her there. Sharing these little moments with her husband made her chirp like a bird. The tea was brewing. The galettes were crispy. The fruits were fresh.

Everything was perfect…

…Until Maeve heard a tiny little hum echoing her own.

She stopped immediately, and the voice quieted a second later. Her green eyes darted around, intrigued and scanning the familiar surroundings; the usual plants were all in their places. There wasn't even a breeze to disturb the stillness of the leaves, and it was only birds that made a cheerful fuss here and there. Just as Maeve began to suspect she was imagining things, a rustling sound caught her attention, and behind a flowery shrub, she spotted another pair of green eyes, so similar to her own.

“Luna?” She hurried toward the little girl who was clumsily trying to hide, only for her to duck further behind the plant. Maeve felt her heart clutching inside her chest. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

Maybe the urgency in her voice made the girl realize how serious she was. Or maybe it was just curiosity. When the child stood up and they were face to face, Maeve saw that it wasn't understanding or curiosity that had made her look up. The poor girl was scared too. And she definitely wasn't her Luna.

“Oh…” Maeve took a step back, giving room for the little one to reveal herself completely.

Nothing but a dirty pair of knitted stockings covered her little feet. Shabby and yellowed, they disappeared under the hem of her plain, colorless woollen dress. The girl rubbed her reddened eyes before letting Maeve get a good look at her face again. She didn’t have many freckles, but the patterns of the ones she did were all too familiar to Maeve.

“Lady, do you know what this place is?”

Maeve looked up at the glass ceiling. Of course, for a girl who had never left her small village, being suddenly transported to a distant time and place was strange enough. But to find herself in a conservatory — a huge glass cage filled with plants, some she had only seen in the wild, and others she had never seen before — must have been overwhelming. Maeve herself didn’t know how the girl ended up there, but soothing a child's mind was more important than unraveling her own confusion.

“This is a conservatory. It's a nice place, isn't it? We can take care of plants in here, even the ones that are too rare or too fragile to be outside in the weather.” Maeve’s words made the child furrow her brows, so she giggled to try to lift her spirits. “It took me a while to get used to it, too. I’ve always thought nature belonged in the wild. But the plants enjoy it here too.”

The girl still looked at her with suspicion in her eyes, and Maeve wondered if she herself had always carried such an intense stare. It suddenly didn’t matter, however, as the girl bounced toward the table like a curious little bird. She held onto the edge and stood on her tiptoes, taking in all the different pastries, juicy fruit, and the steaming teapot.

“Would you like to have tea with me?” Maeve offered, but the child emphatically shook her head. “Oh,” Maeve said, her mind suddenly filled with nostalgia. “Mama told you to refuse food from strangers because they might be fairies trying to entrap you, right?”

“Do you know mama? You were humming the lullaby she sings to me…”

“I do,” Maeve replied, crouching down to her eye level. The girl was still suspicious and scared, the poor thing. Maeve had to take a deep breath to hold back her tears as she spoke the next words. “You're Mabel and Bruno's daughter. They're shepherds. You have a little lamb named Rose, you gave her this name because roses are your birth month's flower.”

“Who are you, lady? I’ve never seen you in the village…” she mumbled shyly. “You are a fairy, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m not a fairy, nor do I have any interest in entrapping you, but while you’re here, you should at least take a seat, okay?”

The child nodded slowly, and Maeve smiled before pulling out a chair for her. As she sat down, Maeve noticed a small spot of blood on her right stocking.

“Are you hurt?” Maeve asked gently.

The girl lifted the hem of her dress to reveal a scraped knee.

“I fell from the oak tree,” she lamented. “I couldn’t climb it, and I tore my stocking. Mama will be angry with me.”

“No, mama won’t be angry. She’ll be worried because you’re hurt, that’s all,” Maeve said with a soft laugh. “Do you mind if I tend to it?”

“You would?” The girl’s little face lit up. “Can you fix the stocking too?”

“Sweetheart, your wound is more important right now.” Maeve served the tea just to dip a napkin in it. “It’s calendula. It tastes delicious, but it can also prevent your wound from getting infected.” The girl flinched when Maeve tried to put the napkin on her scraped knee, but Maeve smiled reassuringly. “And best of all, it doesn’t hurt. Will you let me?”

“Okay…” the girl murmured with half-trust, but it was still enough of trust for Maeve to carefully start cleaning her knee.

“You know,” Maeve began, “that oak tree was too tall for you right now, but you were so brave for trying to climb it.” She smiled to herself. She had started talking to distract the little one while she tended to her scraped knee, but now she realized she was searching for the words she would tell her younger self if she could turn back time. “Many people will tell you it’s better to be safe rather than brave. Some will say it out of worry, like mama, but many will say it because they think they know your destiny. They’ll tell you, ‘You’re a peasant girl, you can’t dare to be anything else.’ But you’re going to be so many things you can’t even dream of now. Life is… really, a strange thing. The Goddess takes us to places where we feel like we don’t belong, like this conservatory. But we’re never where we’re not supposed to be. In the end, only the Goddess knows our destiny, right?”

“Right…” The little one blinked a few times before nodding.

Maeve knew it was too much for her to understand at once, but she hoped the girl would remember her words when she needed them most. She took her own clean handkerchief and tied it gently around the girl’s knee.

“Are you MH?” the girl asked, looking down at the handkerchief. “I’m learning letters, and those are the letters of your monogram, aren’t they?”

“Yes, yes you’re right! I’m MH.” Maeve nodded, as she touched the embroidered monogram on the handkerchief.

“My name has an M like yours. I’m MS! But I don’t have a monogram,” the little girl said, more at ease than before. “Yours is beautiful.”

“You’ll have one. One as beautiful as this, you'll see.”

Finally, they shared a smile — an honest, warm one. Without warning, the girl threw her arms around Maeve, hugging her with all her little might.

“Thank you, Lady MH! I don’t know who you are, but I feel like I know you somehow,” the child said cheerfully.

“I’m the Queen of Jade,” Maeve replied, gently holding her back. “And you, my dear, are the very soul of this kingdom. The prince in the woods will recognize that within you.”

When Keith arrived in the conservatory, he found his wife with her dress lifted to reveal one of her knees, her head bowed as she traced an old, faded scar with the tips of her fingers. She had once told him she got that scar as a child when she tried to climb an oak tree that was too high for her.

“Mae… Is everything alright?” he asked softly.

She nodded and looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes.

But she smiled.

And it was one of the most radiant smiles he had ever seen.

.

.

.

Taglist: @evansnoir @bicayaya @queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys @fang-and-feather

@scummy-writes @hellecat @nightghoul381 @lorei-writes - let me know if you want in or out of my taglist!

[dalilacherie]

Darbit is one of my fav ships could you write anything abt that?

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦

[𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐱 𝐓𝐰𝐨-𝐛𝐢𝐭 / 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭]

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: I wanted this to be longer but I guess I can't complain. It's a decent chunk of writing. Love y'all, have a nice day/night.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 824

The house was quiet, too quiet. I sat in my chair, trying to lose myself in a book, but the words on the page kept blurring together. Sleep had evaded me, as it often did these days. There was too much on my mind.

Steve was crashed out on the couch, snoring softly. It was a peaceful sound, a reminder that at least someone in this house could rest. I glanced at him, feeling a pang of something between envy and affection. The kid had been through hell, same as the rest of us, but he seemed to find sleep.

It was well past midnight when I heard the front door creak open. My heart skipped a beat, and I tensed up, but then I saw it was Two-Bit, stumbling through the doorway. He was drunk, as usual.

Two-Bit spotted me and grinned, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "Darry," he slurred, staggering towards me. "Darry, I... I gotta tell you somethin'."

I closed my book and set it aside, watching him carefully. "What is it, Two-Bit?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He stumbled closer and grabbed my hand, his grip surprisingly firm despite his condition. "I love you," he said, the words slurred but unmistakable.

I blinked, not sure I had heard him right. "What?"

Two-Bit frowned in concentration, then lifted my hand and positioned it to make half a heart. He completed the other half with his own hand, our fingers intertwining awkwardly.

"I love you," he repeated, more clearly this time. Then he sat on the arm of my chair, pulling me into a sideways hug. His head rested on top of mine, and I could feel his breath against my hair.

I sat there, frozen for a moment, before I let myself relax into his embrace. Two-Bit had always been the joker, the one who kept us laughing even when things were at their darkest. But tonight, in the quiet of our living room, he was just Keith, my Keith, needing to be close, needing to be loved.

"I love you too," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He squeezed me tighter, and I felt the warmth of his body seeping into mine. It was comforting, like a blanket on a cold night.

“Why don’t you ever tell me this when you’re sober?” I asked, my voice gentle.

Two-Bit let out a soft laugh, his breath ruffling my hair. “'Cause I'm a chicken,” he admitted. “Always been better at jokin’ around than sayin’ what I really feel.”

I reached up, gently rubbing his back. “You don’t have to be scared with me, Keith. You know that, right?”

He nodded, his head still resting on mine. “I know, Darry. Just... sometimes it’s easier to let the booze do the talkin’.”

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, just holding each other. I could feel the tension in my body slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of contentment I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You smell nice,” Two-Bit mumbled, his voice sleepy.

I chuckled softly. “You’re just drunk.”

“Maybe,” he said, his words slurring more. “But I mean it. You always smell good. Like home.”

I felt my heart swell at his words. Keith had a way of making the simplest things sound like the most important truths. “Thanks,” I whispered, giving him another squeeze.

Two-Bit shifted, sliding off the arm of the chair to sit on my lap. He was heavy, but I didn’t mind. He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, and I could feel his eyelashes fluttering against my skin. “Can we stay like this?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “We can stay like this.”

Steve stirred on the couch, mumbling something in his sleep, but he didn’t wake up. I glanced at him, then back at Two-Bit, who was already starting to drift off.

“I’m gonna take care of you, Keith,” I murmured, more to myself than to him. “I promise.”

Two-Bit’s grip tightened on me, and he mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out. I rested my cheek against his hair, breathing in the scent of him – a mix of alcohol, cigarettes, and something uniquely Two-Bit.

“Get some sleep,” I whispered, stroking his back in slow, soothing circles. “I’ll be right here.”

As Two-Bit’s breathing evened out and he finally fell asleep, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. The world outside might be falling apart, but in this moment, with Keith in my arms and Steve snoring softly on the couch, everything felt right.

I closed my eyes, letting myself relax completely for the first time in what felt like forever. The house was quiet, but it was a comforting kind of quiet now. I knew that come morning, we’d have to face the world again, but for tonight, we had each other. And that was enough.

🫶

[kkochang]

Do you also just think about klance and how domestic they could've been if DreamWorks weren't cowards?

Like, it's canon that Keith is an early riser and Lance likes to sleep in late. So, I'm imagining Keith trying to get up for training and stuff, but he finds himself pinned down by his boyfriend, leg over his hips and arm resting on top of his torso (I like to think that Lance has a habit of keeping his palm on Keith's chest, where he can feel his heartbeat). So, Keith finds himself in a heated argument between wanting to get out of bed and not wanting to wake Lance up.

He sighs heavily, having been over this more than once, and tries to slid out of his boyfriend's embrace carefully. But, of course, he fails (because Lance is a clingy bastard) and the half-embrace only grows tighter, a sleepy 'don't' leaving Lance's lips.

Keith's gives up for now, sparing some time for his dear lover, scattering messy kisses all over his face and playing with his soft bed hair with one hand, while the other one rubs mindless circles on Lance's tanned skin. It's lazy and cozy but then Lance finally rolls to his other side because Keith runs hot, which gives the latter the perfect possibility to start his day (of course, only after giving Lance one last kiss on the temple).

*

Since Lance has lots of siblings and stuff, he had to learn how to cook from an early age, tho with all that world saving and now forming a steady ground for peace he doesn't have much time left for that. So, whenever he has time (and energy) he cooks some delicious meal, taking the kitchen all to himself (music blowing and his singing+dancing combo in its full glory). Keith does offer his help, but the most he's trusted with are vegetables cutting and mixing the ingredients.

But most of the time he just likes to hug Lance from behind during those rare moments as he stands relatively still or annoying him, teasing and messing around at 'his' kitchen. Keith also knows how to cook but it's something easy and quick.

*

Imagine Lance catching a flu and Keith is freaking out, because he has no idea what to do. He never takes care of himself nor did any of his foster families offered him enough love and care. So, he remembers all what Shiro and Adam did when he was sick as a teenager and does the same for Lance. He cooks a chicken soup (bland and the chicken is a little rubbery, but, hey, it's the thought that counts after all), brings him warm tea with lemon and honey, never leaves his side and makes sure he has every needed medicine or whatever his poor boyfriend wants.

At first, Lance is perplexed by this side of Keith, the one he rarely lets slip out to the surface. But he soon finds himself completely pampered in love and care, trying to cover his flustration by teasing Keith for being a mother hen. But deep down he's endlessly grateful.

*

Both of them suffer from nightmares, so they learned all the best ways of how to calm each other down, how to show support and what lines aren't supposed to be crossed.

They both require physical contact, for Lance it's a tight hug, whilst for Keith it's hand holding or a gentle hand in his hair because he hates feeling trapped in his panicked state the most. For the most part of the night afterwards, none of them gets to sleep, so sometimes they watch a show or just hold each other close as if giving silent promise to protect one another no matter what.

[leenfiend]

Kissing you on the mouth for your Lance son of Hermes take. I didn't even really have an opinion before but after reading your post I'm immediately sold and so invested in the au

Do you have ideas on what the other characters godly parents would be? Hunk with Hephaestus makes sense to me, and I'm a fan of Keith son of Ares (learning to accept his godly dad could match with his arc about accepting he's part galra, a supposedly evil/violent side of him, + the anger and fighting skills), but not sure about the others...

hello!!! I'm glad you see the vision hehe. I actually sent many a paragraph to heynhay about this only yesterday. I was firmly on the son of Ares Keith headcanon but then... someone reblogged my post saying Keith son of Zeus (I think it was @pidges-lost-robot and i was like WAAAAIT.

Okay so here's my many many paragraphs explaining headcanons for each. Shiro son of Zeus: Okay so in my head Shiro & Keith are both sons of Zeus but for very different reasons. They're like Thalia vs Jason types. Shiro is a great leader, he's ambitious, he's brave, he's a legend. His dad is so proud. He's been on like 20 quests and absolutely demolished all of them. All the kids in camp know he's So Cool and Talented. He can be hot headed sometimes but ultimately he's really adept at setting aside his feelings for the Greater Good etc. Ideal hero type and ideal son to the big guy upstairs. Keith son of Zeus: Keith is all the bad traits of Zeus (sorry to him). He's got a short temper, he's impulsive, he's closed off. He's a prodigy without meaning to be. Everyone pays attention to him but (despite what Lance thinks) it's because they think he's a freak, he's not a big three kid the way you're Supposed To Be. And he doesn't want to be a leader. This really rubs Zeus the wrong way. Keith would rather disappear into the ranks of his fellow campers than be the star of the show and that goes against everything children of Zeus are supposed to be. His dad definitely refuses to claim him for a long time which makes Keith just some weird really powerful kid who doesn't know who his godly parent is. Luckily Shiro takes him under his wing : )) (too bad Shiro doesn't come back from his latest quest tho, no one knows where he went off to and Chiron doesn't want to send out a quest because if something kept Shiro The Legend from coming back to camp it must be really bad). Hunk son of Aphrodite: ANOTHER ONE I'M FIRM ABOUT. I think Hunk's defining characteristic is his love for his friends. Hunk is always looking for peaceful ways to solve problems, he's always forming relationships with people before doing anything else, he really values giving love to those around him. It also doesn't hurt that he's kind of squeamish and particular about a lot of things, as a lot of Aphrodite's children are. But I really think his greatest strengths are the ways he's able to relate to others. I know a lot of people say Lance is the glue that holds everyone together, but I think it's Hunk. I know the fanon is that Aphrodite's kids are all just big flirts but I think both Selena and Piper are great examples that that's not true, and Hunk would absolutely be their brother. Pidge daughter of Hephaestus: I've seen some people saying Athena for Pidge but that's another one where I just can't get behind it. Pidge is so smart in so many ways but so stupid in others. She's too impulsive and single minded to be a daughter of Athena, imo. Her main love is figuring out how things work, what makes them tick, and using that knowledge to help those she loves. Children of Hephaestus are know to hold grudges, fight for their families, and let's not forget Hephaestus spending literally all of his free time trying to play pranks on the other Gods with his little contraptions like that is all Pidge would do all day long. Plus she befriends a robot and that is who she talks to for the first like 3 episodes of Voltron that is so unbelievably child of Hephaestus energy. Anyway thank u for asking this question I've been thinking on it for days. I am also open to the idea of Shiro being a son of Athena, I think that would suit him well. And also in my head I like to think Keith would potentially just remain unclaimed until he stomped his way to Mount Olympus and forced whoever was his parent to fess up.

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Accidental Knight Goes on a World Tour (Field of Forget-me-nots Part 2)

Okay so I didn't think I was going to make a part two (or three depending on how you count the posts, as The Keith and Branch Brothers AU now happens in the same AU), but here we are.

Part one of this au, is that Branch has taken Keith in as a younger brother, and for Keith's birthday, he dresses up as a character, The Forest Guardian, from one of the trolling's story. While in costume Branch saves the village from a wolf and becomes a knight with out anyone know who he was. Then the events of the first movie.

Link to that first post if interested - https://empressgeekt.tumblr.com/post/745937705603661824/trolls-vigilante-branch-au

Now on to this part's summery.

We pick up three months after the first movie. Branch is fully healed from his wounds from the Chef, but he isn't unmarked from it. Sure, he has his colors back, but they fluctuate. And he has a scar from her knife. It runs up his leg, torso and across his face. Thankfully the blade missed his neck otherwise he'd be dead, but it's a hard thing to hide. Especially since he's been blinded in one eye, because of it. Keith thinks it looks cool though, and writes the events of his scaring into his Guardian book.

The defense force that Poppy and Peppy had placed him in charge of is developing well enough. Branch has put together a training course for new recruits and per his recommendation a main station, outer-security wall with lookouts, and outposts further from the village were built. Once that was complete volunteers were being taken. Smidge volunteered for it right away, and excelled during her training. Branch makes her his second in command.

Over all Life hasn't changed that much ins Pop Village, the only differences being that they were at peace with the bergens and some trolls have new jobs. When Branch and Smidge aren't working, they're hanging out with the SnackPack (or taking care of Keith in Branch's case). Even before Poppy was crowned queen, she and Branch work more closely, Branch is in charge of village safety and many of his decisions need to have approval of royalty. Poppy also asks Branch to train her, during which Branch's crush develops beyond a fancy as watching Poppy shoot a bow and arrow like robinhood is very hot to him. Keith teases him everytime he blushes around the Queen.

Life continues on. Guy Diamond has Tiny, which I'm not sure if I should make Branch the midwife for or not (because Branch is trained in this canonically if this deleted clip is anything to go by Link - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0ioxfzsKv4&list=LL&index=2). Then Debbie shows up. Branch is kind of upset that Peppy never told Poppy, and by extension him, about the other tribes. If they were a threat they were something he needed to know about. Poppy still believes that Barb wants to reunite the trolls and Branch still chooses to go with her to keep her safe. Once more clad in his Forest Guardian attire. He leaves Smidge in charge of the guard and Peppy in charge of Keith.

Poppy doesn't kick all the weapons off the Balloon this time, because Branch packed her bow with the other spears and getting rid of it would be mean throwing away her newly prized weapon. Half way through their flight to symphonyville (I can not spell), they hear a very small sneeze. Keith has snuck aboard, not biggie. Branch is very frustrated with this, after all his kid is currently on a mission that he feels could be extremely dangerous.

Keith's reasons for sneaking aboard, he wants to start his guard training early and that Branch needs a wingman, because watching him crush over the queen is starting to get embarrassing. Branch can feel his hair turning white through out this interaction.

At symphonyville, Keith is clinging to Branch's leg the whole time. The destuction is like that of Pop village after Chef attacked. They get the whole story from Pennywhisle, and need to decide what to do next. Branch immediately wants to go home and fortify defenses. Poppy agrees, but wants to reach out to the other tribes to warn them at the very least and maybe form alliances in case of attack. Branch think that their military is till too fresh for that, and way to small. Poppy continues to argue her side and eventually Branch is forced to agree.

Country territory is closest, so they head there. Branch talks Poppy out of doing the pop medley because it would probably offend the country trolls. Keith's on his side too, as they both know what it's like to have things they don't like shoved in their face. This is how the country trolls are and they like it. Poppy reluctantly agrees but she still thinks that the country trolls need cheering up. They meet with Delta Dawn and begin to share information they have regarding Barb. Keith's role in this is to distract Clampers. The Children get along like water and rain (honestly these two would be great friends they could totally bond over biting people). Delta mis-takes Keith for Poppy and Branch's son, which they quickly correct with an awkward laugh. Delta still doesn't want to involved, so Branch and Poppy leave. but not before meeting up with a "Country" trolls named Hickory, who offeres to boat them to Funk territory.

This tips off Branch and Keith as suspicious, after all since when did Hickory know about where they were going and what they were doing, but Poppy doesn't notice and quickly agrees. Keith still enjoys the boat ride, so Branch is watching the trolling with one eye, and Hickory with the other. When Chaz shows up, Branch manages to pull out his bow and shoot the bounty hunter's instrument away, due to his suit covering his ears. After checking Keith over, he hears Hickory mention bounty hunters and pulls Poppy aside. they Have an argument with Branch pointing out everything he's be noticing and how Poppy can't just keep dismissing him. It's his job to keep her safe and the rest of the Pop trolls they need to work together. Then he asks if something else it going on, because once she knew he wasn't just spouting paranoid rants, she didn't have a problem listening to his suggestions. Poppy cracks and breaks that she's worried about being a good leader after all the good her father did, how could she ever measure up to that. Branch says that he's not sure what will make her great, but that a good leader should listen, and that maybe she's putting her father on a pedestal, he isn't the perfect king she thinks he is. Poppy starts seriously crushing on Branch after that.

The ride continues. Hickory and Branch talk about the knight's feelings for Poppy, and Branch just says it isn't the right time she's dealing with too much right now. On the flip side, Keith talks to Poppy about her new found crush on Branch. The future couple might be blind but Keith sure ain't and he's willing to do anything to make his brother happy.

They get sucked up into vibe city, with Branch nearly shooting Hickory with an arrow after he got in his the face with a guitar. Poppy and Keith end up sharing a bubble, as they were taken up to the city. Keith quickly charms Essence and Q, and they complement, Branch on his child rearing. Keith Also crawls into Branch's hair after hearing Cooper's story with his twin, knowing that it could hurt the knight on an emotional level.

One history lesson later...

"Wait if we split everyone apart, are we bad guys?" Keith said.

"Not us, bud, but some people who were like us did. We need to do better then them okay?" Branch would say.

Poppy Branch and Keith get caught in the same bubble during the escape, with Hickory separated form them. Poppy says she doesn't know what to do. Branch tells her they need to go home to protect every one. They need to be there for the last stand against Barb. Poppy finally listening, agrees only for them to be attacked by the Reggaetón trolls and K-pop gang before they can leave. Branch tells Poppy to take Keith and run. Branch pulls out his spear ready to fight when K-pop grabs him, que dance battle...

Poppy runs with Keith, the trolling upset in her arms. They run into Hickory, where Poppy rants about everything and losing Branch pulling the pop string form her hair, que hickory and dickory reveal. Keith says he called it.

Barb comes in and takes Poppy. She tries to mockingly dote on Keith only for him to bite her. She's impressed, and says she didn't think a popsqueak like Poppy could have such vicious offspring, and that the kid must take after his dad. Poppy's too mad to correct Barb, just fighting against the guards to get Keith back. Branch told her to protect the trolling, and she will do so. She never lets go of Keith when their in the cell.

Both Poppy and Keith are horrified when Branch Jumps in front of them. Keith even starts crying, thinking he'd lost his brother for good. The sound of Keith's wails make Branch hesitate and starts to fight back against the power-cord's power. He'd too busy to fighting himself to obey Barb's orders. Still Poppy stuffs gumdrops into her and Keith's ears, and then runs escapes from the cell listening to Keith's insturctions to pick the lock. Poppy Jumps down, and charges at Barb stealing the guitar. Keith Bites the rock queen again. The guitar is destoryed and branch is freed from the mind control. To Branch's horror he wakes to his little brother and the woman his loves already fully grey.

Just sing happens and poppy, gives Branch a kiss on the cheek, finally confessing. All the leaders get together, to plan for repairs of their homes, and how prevent this situation from happening again. Trollstopia is born, and suddenly Branch needs to figure out how to train other types of trolls for the guard.

[shadyteacup]

CAN WE HAVE A PART 2 OF BOY BYE

Free

Part 2 of Boy Bye

You sighed as you heard the door rattle ever so slightly.

It had been 2 weeks since Dazai walked out on you and it has been… peaceful.

Or so you had hoped.

The ache in your heart only grew as the days went by, but you weren’t going to text him, let alone call him.

He had been such a loving boyfriend these last few months, that you had almost thought it was a prank when he asked to break up.

You were strong and independent, you didn’t really need him. Or so you told yourself everyday, as you tried very hard to ignore the dull pain in your chest.

A click brought you out of your thoughts, making you jump slightly on your seat at the sofa.

This can’t be actually happening, you thought to yourself, as you heard the door creak open. You were seated at an angle that blocked your view of the door, but you weren’t exactly worried about your safety. Because you knew who the intruder was.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t be calling the police, Osamu.”, you spoke into the silence.

A low chuckle was heard, followed by a messy head of brown appearing before you.

“Because, love,”, he said, making you roll your eyes at the nickname that he didn’t deserve to call you anymore.

“I’m not breaking in! I simply, forgot!”

He stood there, grinning like an idiot, holding up a set of random keys, cheeks blushed and eyes droopy.

“Forgot what?”

“To carry the right keys, of course!”, he said, burping at the end, making you scrunch up your nose in disgust.

“Just, how drunk are you?”, you asked, worried as he almost tumbled onto the floor, unable to stand still.

“Just a little!”

You groaned at his idiotic grin. This was going to be messy.

“Whose keys did you flick?”, you asked, hoping to return them to their rightful owner tomorrow.

“Keys? What keys? I don’t know any Mr Keith”, he declared, sauntering up to the space next to you and collapsing.

You froze up as he nuzzled his head on your thigh, his long arms gripping onto you as if you might disappear any second.

In mere seconds, you heard snores, and sighed to yourself.

How did he expect you to move on if he kept doing things like this?

You looked down at his head, and a small smile formed on your face as you saw how his cheek was smushed up against your thigh, and his pink lips naturally formed a cute pout as a result.

God. You missed this so much.

Hesitantly, you raised a hand and lightly grazed over his hair. The curls tickled the tips of your fingers, and you could almost cry at how comforting that felt.

You always loved him dearly. Even when he would have his random bursts of cold, distant behaviour, you gave him space and welcomed him with open arms when he came back to normal. You knew he was like this because of his trust issues, and his childhood wasn’t the best, so to speak.

He would always be sure to pamper you with love after his cold spurs.

But this time, when he wanted to break up, you didn’t see that same wall that he usually built around himself; you sensed indifference and dislike. He truly didn’t love you at that moment, and that scared you.

One of the only reasons why you didn’t want to even try to rekindle your relationship with him, is because of how scared you were of his expressions that day. He truly felt absolutely nothing but dislike for you, and you could feel it.

How is it that the same man is lying here, on your couch, with his head on your lap, lovingly nuzzling into you in his sleep?

“You must have a split personality…”, you mumbled, toying with individual curls of his dark hair.

“Or maybe, it’s more of a bipolar disorder?”, you wondered, lacking any actual knowledge of either mental illnesses.

You just wanted some reason to defend his hurtful behaviour. Some reason to let him in.

But maybe, there is no reason. Maybe, it was all just an elaborate lie, that he spun to cure his boredom.

The thought was too painful to entertain, and a tear slipped down your cheek.

You decided to just ignore these thoughts, and enjoy the moment of calm while it lasts.

Dazai groaned as he stirred awake. He had blacked out last night, having spent the night getting kicked out of multiple bars for having drank too much. He couldn’t remember much, except for the occasional sob of your name as he clutched a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He hadn’t felt such emptiness for a while.

He begrudgingly opened his eyes, only to still at the sight.

There you sat, asleep, neck bent in an uncomfortable position. He felt your hand in his hair, and decided to just stare at you.

He observed the smooth, silky skin he adored so much, and how it bent inwards after your cheekbones, narrowing towards your chin.

He smiled at the tiny freckles, and adored the pink of your lips. His smile faded as he noticed the dried tears on your cheeks, and the remnants of your maskara staining a path below your eyelashes.

He was the reason for your tears. He hated himself.

He raised a hand, and hesitated. Did he deserve to touch you after what he had done? Did he deserve to wipe your tears, to push your hair out of your face and to comfort you?

“Osamu..”, you whispered, still deep in slumber.

He usually loved the way you said his name.

But this time, his heart hurt at the pain in your voice.

He silently retracted his hand, which was only inches away from your face, and tried to get up. He wanted to get out of here before you woke up, hoping that you’d chalk it up to a weird dream.

He, stupidly, forgot about your hand in his hair.

You jumped awake, eyes wide and heart pumping. Your swift gaze landed on him, stilling.

You didn’t say anything, and he could see that you wanted to say something. He hoped you would, he silently begged you to.

But you didn’t.

He finally got up, and adjusted his shirt. It felt weird sitting next to you on the sofa where you had both spent countless nights cuddling, watching movies and enjoying each other’s presence.

You both spent some moments in silence, hating to accept that you liked the proximity.

You finally broke the silence as you cleared your throat, ready to take the initiative.

“Please don’t break in again.”

With that, you got up. He watched as you searched for something, and looked at you puzzled when you picked up a set of keys.

“Return these to their owner.”, you said, handing them to him.

He scrunched his brows, not knowing what any of that meant.

Did he break in? Whose keys are these? Why aren’t you addressing the real issue here?

“Did I.. break in?”, he asked, his voice deep and slightly raspy.

You sighed at the state of him. How could he sound so sexy and yet make you want to cry your eyes out? How could he not remember anything? Were you a joke to him? A joke of a person that he can use and throw as he pleased?

“I’m not your plaything, Dazai.”, you mustered up the courage to say to him, watching his face darken.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

He averted his eyes, and nodded.

“Please, just..”, you hated the way your voice cracked. You took a moment to calm your throat, and push the emotions away. You couldn’t afford to cry right now.

“Please leave.”

Dazai clenched his fist at your words. He hated the way you were holding back tears, tears that you would probably spill the moment he’s out the door.

“I’m sorry.”, he said, getting up and collecting his things off the floor.

You watched, hands hugging your torso, as he grabbed everything.

He stepped towards the door, when you called out to him.

“I’m asking because I want closure.”, you began, “Why?”

He froze, not being able to meet your eyes.

He hated himself.

He absolutely loathed himself.

“Because,”, he said, still avoiding eye contact, “you don’t deserve to be with a cheater.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore, having feared this.

Tears freely occupied your cheeks, sliding down and staining your top.

“Was she worth it?”, your voice trembled, making Dazai close his eyes in shame.

“Nothing can truly be worth it, y/n.”

You watched him disappear behind the door, and felt numb.

Maybe this was what you needed: the truth, the keys that can finally set you free from the chains around your heart.

Authors note: I’m truly sorry lol

[foolinafable]

iv. genesis

SYNOPSIS: He doesn’t know how to love. You know this and yet you would still give everything just to be with him- even for just a moment. Or the story of how you and Keith finally get together. PAIRING: Keith Kogane x Altean reader WORD COUNT: 4.9k TAGS: Slowburn, Angst, extreme cannon compliance, fighting SERIES LINK: a love as cold as ours

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You aren't sure if this could get any worse, sat in the control room of the Castle of lions which has completely shut down because Shiro put in a kill protocol. Pidge was able to turn it off but the castle has lost significant power and the battle with Lotor is far from finished so you needed to keep your energy and strength.

Everything happened so fast, earlier on today you, Lotor and Allura had just made it into the quintessence field, all of your hard work had paid off and you were so happy and now- now you struggled to know how to feel.

Your heart hurt from Lotors betrayal as he had become a very close friend, a brother almost in the time you spent together but you were sure that wasn't the only reason you were feeling this way.

Keith's sudden return has sent you spiralling all the emotions you locked away after your confrontation during the Kral Vera have been thirsty to the surface leaving you upset and angry. It hurts you to know that while he was one of the most important people in your life he just saw you as a nuisance. You have come to terms with the idea that you did love him, it wasn't just some factless infatuation that went away when he did and even now when you would rather be face to face with Lotor than with him, deep down you still love him and you hate yourself for it greatly- I mean there is nobody else to blame it’s like he told you he can’t love and even if he could he really doesn't want to. You were stupid to think that maybe one day he would change his mind, especially for you of all people who he clearly just want to leave him alone.

“You still bleeding” Lance huffed from behind you, hand on your shoulder to make you aware of his presence, you simply turned to him in confusion eyebrows knitted together as he pointed to the nash on your forehead from when Shiro knocked you out your eyes brightened in recognition smiling in thanks but before you could get around to fixing yourself up Keith appeared on the comms, you averted your gaze when it seemed like he staring right at you and simply blocked him out as you used your powers to heal your forehead letting Lance and Allura take control of the situation- not that he would want your input anyway.

You simply skimpier off towards the lions when he shows Lotor’s location to prepare yourself and the rest of the lions for another altercation not even bothering to say anything. 

You didn’t like Allura’s plan. Not one bit.

Trapping Lotor in the quintessence field would probably not only kill him but also any chances of finding a permanent source of natural quintessence a clear way to bring peace to the Galaran empire and stop this war. If you break the entrance we would never be able to return meaning all the work put towards this would be for nothing. Alas, Allura was correct that this was the only way to stop Lotor. 

“Lotor will be here any second, what's the plan?” Pidge asked, looking at the destruction the lions had just created. 

“Well, the castle of lions has broken down. So there's no help there.” Allura spoke her thoughts aloud trying to find a pathway for the group. “The black lion isn't with us, so we can’t form Voltron. We are just going to need to do what we can” she finished sounding dejected.

“Got it, attempt to survive,” Pidge replied 

“Last time we fought Lotor, we had six ships and Lotor had two and he still kicked our butts. This time he has three ships while we have five” Hunk reminded us you simply took a shaky breath before speaking 

“Well it was never going to be easy” while Lance, annoyed, responded

“We don't have time for your maths equations hunk! Especially ones that result in us taking a beating” the rest of the team went quiet as Allura spoke to Coran.

When you saw the three ships appear, you tried to control your breathing as they got closer and you tightened your hands on the lion's controls. 

“We need not fight today, We are all on the same side” you heard Lotor speak over the comms tears filling your eyes as you thought about everything he had done- all the innocent lives he had taken and found yourself quickly filling with rage at the idea that he would ever be on the same side as you again- if he ever truly was.

“I know what you all must think of me now that you know my past. It doesn't have to change our future together. The truth is I want to harness the power of the quintessence field to better the universe, just like I said. Nothing has changed” you quickly interjected

“Everything has changed” your voice so sharp you heard him inhale in shock.

“You enslaved countless Alteans harnessing their life source for your personal gain. How many innocent lives did you destroy?” Allura raged at him

“Allura-” he tried to interject but she didn't let him

“How many?” 

“It’s true many alteans perished in my quest to unlock the mysteries of the quintessence. But I protected thousands more, and I rescued their culture- our culture. Both of you must understand I've given everything I have to plumb the depths of King Alfor’s knowledge, to unlock the mysteries of Oridane. We have come too far together, surely you can see the greatness we have accomplished and the greatness we have yet to. Join me, we are on the same side.” 

“No, we're not!” Allura roared as she sent a laser beam towards Lotors ship which he quickly dodged. You braced yourself knowing that now the real battle was about to begin. 

Everything was a blur, Lotor’s words afterwards and Alluras bites the only words echoing in your head were his “destroy the lions” the way he said it so easily, as if it was of no consequence to him and maybe it wasn't but it sent you spiralling barely able to dodge incoming attacks from Lotor and his generals and consistently missing your targets.

You knew Coran was able to get the castle working but only due to it nearly crashing into you and Lance.

Lotor was constantly trying to hit you and Allura raged in a way you had never seen before something crazed in the way he spoke about ridding of you all even the galra a fact that shocked not just you but also his generals who tried to escape when learning of his plans only to be ejected from there ships leaving them in space while the ships joined knot his to create a large robot similar to that of Voltron.   

“What is that thing?” Pidge questioned as the five of you looked up at the robot “He's created his own voltron.” Lance spoke your thoughts aloud 

“That is why he was using us- using me” Allura concluded 

“We helped him build this” you announced shock evident in your voice 

“Well the good news is it’s now four on one” Hunk spoke recalling his earlier words but before any more words could be spoken Lotor came rushing towards the group

 “Watch out” Allura shouted as you all quickly tried to disperse but he was too quick catching you and Lance with the robot’s fingers sending you flying and whipping Hunk backwards with its tail, Pidge tried to fire at the robot but it quickly dodged 

“It’s way faster than us” she hollered out as you all tried to get a hit in before being quickly body-slammed by the robot. Coran was able to get a shot in from the castle of lions but Lotor quickly sent one back sending the ship into a panic 

“Impossible, Lotor’s weapon has completely repelled the castle's attack!” Pidge screamed,

 “Coran shoot it with the cannon again!” Lance pleaded

 “I can’t” Coran replied the ship was now completely out of action 

“Pidge get out of his line of sight!” Lance screamed as she nearly got hit only for you to push her lion out of the way with your own causing the rest of them to scream your name in worry as you let out pained noises

“What are you doing?” Lance shouted at you as you moved once again into Lotors sight in the hope he would hit you again 

“If I can absorb enough of his power-” you stopped to grunt in pain as he hit you again “I might be able to give it back” Lance made a noise of confusion

“What do you mean- you going to get yourself killed” as he tried to move you lion away with his own

“I gave his ship the ability to do this so I must be able to do it myself” is all you replied as you once again moved towards Lotor

“But it's not safe” Lance pleaded 

“What other choice do we have- just sit around and let him destroy us all?” you shouted back when a choked gasp came from you once you were hit again sending you flying forward your  head hitting the console of your ship, you simply gritted your teeth as the team called out to you in worry but they were quickly all grunting and screaming themselves as Lotor locked onto them 

“We can��t take this much longer!” Allura shouted fear evident in her tone while Hunk was shouting for Lance as he went flying from Lotor’s impact. Before you could gather enough energy to send something his way all the lions had shut down, seemingly unable to fight any longer and the paladins were completely out of options.

“It didn’t need to end like this, but you have made your choice” Lotor spoke as he went to deal the final blow when the black lion finally appeared- it seemed that the fight was far from over. 

“Keith, how did you get here so fast?” Lance questioned, clearly astonished 

“I had some help” was all he replied “Now hurry we don’t have much time. Form voltron!” Keith quickly sent a space pod with Shiro's body inside towards the castle

“Coran you’ve got incoming” and he couldn’t have gotten Shiro away at a better time as Lotor quickly sent a blast towards Voltron but Lance and Pidge quickly activated the shield protecting you from the blast

“Hunk form canon” Keith commanded 

“You’ve got it” the yellow paladin grunted as he activated his weapon, sending a blast towards the Lotor who quickly moved out of its path even as the laser chased him not once did it hit his robot. 

“He’s too fast!” Lance called out alarmed 

“Then we will have to get in close, form a sword” Keith responded, his voice sounding raspier from all the shouting.

You quickly formed the sword and in retaliation, Lotor’s robot formed its own swords, one for each hand and came bounding towards Voltron causing the robot to move backwards due to Lotor’s robot’s momentum swords clashing against each other like a moth drawn to a flame.

Lotor sent you all flying back with a whip of his robot's tail as Pidge called out

“We can’t touch him, he's still too fast!”

“We need to stop him moving around, back him into a corner or something” Hunk strategised 

“Hunk is right, we need to eliminate his speed advantage, and limit his movements” Keith agrees. You all turned your heads to take notice of a large asteroid to the left of you

“There” Keith announced as you flew towards it hoping the curvature of the rock would allow you to trap Lotor within

“Now we lure him in close” and luckily Lotor took the bait following you right into the trap sending a blast towards you which you used the shield to block pushing you into the rock below solidifying your position and his continuous blasts caused the area to fill with ash from the rocks making him unable to see you anymore, he circled back trying to attack from behind

“Wait for him” Keith spoke softly as you heard him getting closer from behind the rock “Let him build up speed” you could hear the whirring of his engine get louder and faster

“Now!” Keith screamed as you moved the Voltron as quickly as you could as Lotor crashed into the rock from behind leaving an explosion of ash in his way.

Before he could realise what was happening you quickly threw Voltron in front of him firing both arm cannons right the robot’s body sending him crashing backwards as the middle of the asteroid caved in due to the weight and power.

“Where'd he go?” Hunk questions when you look into the hole as you see nothing. You all move the robot around looking for him when Pidge calls out worriedly 

“He’s behind us!”

Keith, quick to take action, calls out “Hunk, Hit him with the shoulder cannon!” to which the yellow paladin responds before preparing a blast

“Fire” Keith called out as Hunk sent the shot but as it got closer to Lotor he disappeared. 

“Did we get him?” Lance questioned 

“I don't know” Hunk responds hastily 

“I think we got him” Lance smiled 

“It looked like he just disappeared” Pidge spoke eyebrows furrowing in confusion

“Yeah! We got him!” Lance sounded out overjoyed

“I’m not so sure” Allura complained 

“That was too easy, that can’t be it” you spat out head whirling with ideas of where he could've gone and how you heard Keith make a noise of unease through the comms as your head turned to the side when you saw a hole open up with Lotor inside as he quickly sent a punch towards Voltron sending you flying back a strange purple hue surrounding his spaceship. 

“Is everyone okay” Keith grunts as he tries to recover from falling backwards into a rock

“How is he moving so fast?” Pidge interrupts 

“We’ve gotta get up and attack” Keith responds sending Voltron hurtling back towards him but he disappeared again before you could get close 

“Okay, so that time we definitely didn't get him” Lance says confused but before anyone else could speak you gasped out as Lotor appeared once again sending you backwards and then again appeared behind you sending another hit to the robot and then another causing you all to grunt in pain as he kept hitting you around like a ball on a ping pong table expect he was the only player.

He disappeared again, not immediately coming back when Hunk next spoke

“How can he keep disappearing like that?” to which Allura responded clearly shaken up

“He is, entering the quintessence field- at will!” causing you to take a shocked intake of breath while the other continued to question her idea

“How is able to do it?: you heard Pidge chime to which you responded

“I gave his ships the ability didn't I?” to which Allura sighed telling everyone that you were correct but before anything could be said Allura grunted as Lotor reappeared sending the ship backwards as you stayed the ship the shield quickly had to be activated as Lotor sent an extremely powerful blast towards you, much stronger than the ones previous sending the robot backwards due its sheer power causing a large explosion completely knocking down Voltron before disappearing once again into what you now released what the quintessence field.

“We have to go after him” Keith spoke clearly exhausted “Getting power from the quintessence is the only way we can match his strength”

“Can we do that” the yellow paladin questioned

“If he can, so can Voltron right?” Pidge asked you 

“My father did it once, but it was extremely dangerous” Allura called out

“Well I don’t think we have much of a choice princess” you called out 

“There right Allura, we have to try” Keith agreed with you sending annoyance to curl up into your being but now isn't the time to be upset- you could be upset if you make it out alive.

“I might be able to guide us in, but I don’t think I’m powerful enough” Allura concluded 

“Then I will do it just tell me what to do” you replied solemnly hoping that you were strong enough for this, that Alfor was correct to keep you alive in that sleeping pod instead of himself. 

“I will need everyone to focus their energy” Allura commanded “While you need to picture the quintessence field” You closed your eyes quickly picturing the abyss you had seen only hours prior when you could feel the energy of the paladins right next to you, guiding you.

You opened your eyes as a bright light appeared

“Form sword” you heard Allura call out as you flew towards the light hitting it in the centre with your sword causing light to reflect everywhere as the hole grew, your vision clouded in the brightness. 

You could hear the astonishment of the paladins as you began to open your eyes, in disbelief that you were here- the quintessence field

“I did it” you mumbled to yourself in relief but before you could bask in the beauty of the area you saw him, standing opposite you in the field, swords drawn both robots flew towards each other ready to engage in another battle purple meeting blue once more as the robots fought against one another. 

“We took a major shot, but I feel fine” Pidge comments to which Allura responded 

“All this quintessence is keeping us at full power” a comment that made you still worry

 “It’s more than that, can you hear your lions talking to you?” Keith asks and he was right you could feel your lion purring in the back of your head commanding you on what to do

“Voltron is capable of more than we imagined” he finished sending a laser towards Lotors ship while your hands and body were buzzing with power glowing even without you thinking about it an idea that amazed you but also made a feeling of dread appear in my stomach but you weren't sure why.

But you didn’t have enough time to voice it as Lotor came rushing back

“Attack!” Keith shouted and you went flying back into him sending shot after shot at him but you felt as if time was going too fast, barely able to keep up with what the other paladins were doing, a fog seeding to haze over your mind as your body began shaking and flinching. 

“Let's end this!” you heard Pidge scream

“Finish him!” Lance responded 

“Let's destroy that guy!” Hunk exclaimed 

“We have to get out here!” you heard Allura shout as she called out your name in worry at your lack of response while the other paladins sounded out confusion at her words

 “What are you talking about” Keith asked 

“This is exactly what happened to Zarkon! Exposure to all the quintessence turned him into a monster!” Allura shouted 

“She's right” you spoke breathlessly a lot quieter than normal “There’s too much of it everything- I don't know how much longer we have” but before anyone could question you more you heard Lotor’s voice calling out mockingly

“Poor alteans, all the power of the universe at your fingertips and your too afraid to use it!” then he flew towards you again 

“They are right we are out of control” Lance stated 

“All our systems are overloaded” Pidge called out 

“I know the feeling” you grunted out as the power signed through your body your sensitivity to quintessence was greater due to your power

“Here comes Lotor” Keith warned as you flew Voltron away from him now trying to escape him rather than fight him. 

“How do we stop this?” Hunk questioned 

“We give Lotor all the power he wants” Allura concluded as she pulled Voltron backwards to face him. 

“All this excess energy, I will just give it to him” you called out to paladins blocking away any of their worries as you closed your eyes and focused on the power within you, the connection to your lion caused you to also channel the burning power exceeding from Voltron causing a large beam to shoot out of lion chest right into Lotor robot that was still trying to inch closer to you, as the blast died down you could see Lotors robot was down sizzling and defeated as the haziness withdrew from your being, no longer shaking from all the quintessence your body was trying channel.

“Let's grab Lotor and get out of here” Keith announced as the alarms blared within the robot 

“No, we can’t! We need to leave now” Pidge responded and she was right there was only a matter of time before the quintessence got too much again

“We have to try!” Allura pleaded 

“Pidge is right, if we stay in here much longer and Voltron is done for” Hunk announced when a large crackle of energy hit Voltron sending you all groaning in pain 

“But we can't just leave him!” Allura argued as the ship was starting to sway electricity jolts electrocuting you all 

“Allura we have to go now” Lance pleaded 

“There isn't anything we can do for him anymore Allura” you spoke guilt wracking your voice that you were going to leave him here to die, a man you thought of even still as a brother

“Lotor made his choice. Let's get out of here Allura” Keith reasoned and Voltron finally moved away from him blasting out of the quintessence field through the hole you had created. 

“If we had stayed in the quintessence field, we would've kept fighting until we destroyed ourselves” Allura theorised “Just like Lotor.” 

“What did you do to him?” Keith asked you, his face appearing on your comms but you refused to look at him. “I transferred all the excess energy from myself and Voltron, it’s a technique I learned on Oridane, thanks to Lotor.”

“Thank you, you saved us” Lace replied solemnly as you stared at all the holes Lotor left into the quintessence field

“Not just us, the entire universe” Hunk concluded as the castle of lions drew closer behind you

“Oh! Your back” Coran declared relieved 

“Lotor is no longer a threat” Keith spoke mournfully 

“Right I’m afraid we face a bigger threat now” Coran began “All of Lotors jumping in and out of the quintessence field has created multiple growing rifts in the fabric of space and time”

“What does that mean?” Lance questioned dejectedly 

“It means unless we do something fast, those tears will continue to expand until all of existence as we know it has been destroyed” Pidge answered

“There has to be something we can do” Keith announced and he was right everything couldn't end here 

“Scanning the rift for any strand refabrication possibilities” Pidge announced 

“I’m running a few different models to see if there's any chance it can close on its own” Hunk added but both came up empty-handed. 

“How long do we have?” Keith asked 

“Well based on the way those rifts are expanding I’d say about 15 doboshes” Coran theorised 

“Allura, is there anything either of you can do?” Lance questioned

“I don’t know” Allura started “I just don’t have that alchemical knowledge” 

“The only thing that could possibly pull that rift close would be a source of gravity more powerful than a supermassive black hole” Pidge called out 

“Allura, Coran” you spoke hesitantly as an idea was brought forth into your mind “The teleduv” 

“What about it?” Keith questioned 

“They’re right, to make wormhole jumps, the teleduv creates a brief flash of infinite mass. There might be a way I can overload the reactor to seal the rifts. If one of the flashes went off on the rift it may be enough to close it- do the job”

Coran answered for you and despite him not being able to see you you smiled slightly in thanks, glad to know your idea wasn't crazy and that you didn't need to speak to him more than you needed to. 

“But that would mean, sacrificing the castle of lions” Hunk realised gloomily

“Well, what choice do we have? Either way, the castle would be wiped out.” Pidge reminded him

“But still” Hunk began pausing for a moment in contemplation “it’s been our home”

“I hate to say goodbye to my grandfather’s creation” Coran called out wistfully “The last piece of the real altea”

“That's not completely true- we are the last pieces of altea Coran don’t forget that” you attempted to comfort the older man

“Coran begin preparations” Allura called out

“Everyone else start unloading the castle, we need to evacuate immediately” You quickly transformed back into the lions and made your way for the last time into the hangers collecting items as you made your way into your rooms and other various location surround the castle collecting personal items but also weapons and technology that you could need.

Subconsciously you tried to stay out of Keith’s way just in case he tried to speak to you. The idea of having a conversation with him makes your throat feel tight and a pit arises in your stomach, your body trying to warn you away from him for safety, something it used to draw you towards him. Luckily he seemed disinterested in speaking with you at this moment, very busy clearing up and getting Shiro situated with his mother and space wolf within his lion.

You stood with Coran as he said goodbye to the castle waiting with him before he entered your lion with you

“Goodbye old friend” he called out as he initiated the teleduv before running with you to your lion and then rushing out the way with the rest of lions praying that this would work you looked at him with tears in your eyes as he touched your shoulder going to hold his hand as he stared at you with the same pain in his eyes.

You all grunted at the impact of the rift closing before it all disappeared as if it was never there in the first place.

“It worked” Hunk called out cheerfully 

“You did it Coran” Allura called out over comms as you looked at him again smiling sadly at him 

“And look” Hunk commented going closer to a blue light where the castle once was 

“What is it?” Keith asked 

“It’s a diamond” Hunk responded as his lion opened its mouth to take the crystal “The pressure crushed the castle of lions into this little crystal” You all smiled that the castle survived into something that Coran would always have- his grandfather's last surviving creation far from gone.

“Well, we saved all realties everywhere, what do you guys wanna do now?” Lance questioned glum 

“We need to find someplace to land,” Keith began, “and see if there is some way we can help Shiro.” so you all went flying forward looking for somewhere safe. 

── ✧

You landed on some sort of destroyed rocky planet and got Shiro out of the healing pod, Keith lay him on the ground as you all looked at him woefully “This body is barely living but Shiro’s spirit is still alive. It’s inside the Black lion, I've heard him talk to me.” Keith told you all

“He-he tried to tell me but I didn’t realise” Lance realised falling to his knees as tears shed from his eyes “I’m so sorry Shiro. I-I didn’t know. I- I could’ve-” Lance sobbed feeling defeated as you came up behind him to try and comfort him but he only stopped crying once Allura came up to the two of you grabbing your hand and moving you towards Shiro and the black lion while she touched Lance’s shoulder with the other, you immediately understood what she knew you could do.

You quickly connected with the black lion, hands glowing as you did, the black lion outlined in your purple quintessence as its eyes glowed. Your body quickly became purple like the lion as it transferred Shiro's soul to you. You walked towards Shrio’s hands on his head as you began to transfer his soul into this body, the glow transferring to him making his hair go white.

Everyone held a berated breath as they waited for something, anything to happen and then his eyes opened- Shiro was alive.

He quickly sat up coughing before he once again collapsed into Keith but the black lion roared in happiness causing the rest of the lions to roar in response causing a smile to grace your face as the others cheered and cried.

“You found me” you heard Shiro speak quietly to Kieth using all his strength

“We’re glad you’re back Shiro” was all he replied while Allura came up to you

“Rest,” she said directed at Shiro but you knew from how her eyes drifted to you it was meant for you also, she could take it from here for the time being. 

“So what are we going to do?” Hunk questioned “The castles been destroyed” 

“There is only one place that has the plans necessary to build a replacement” Pidge announced “Coran gave them to my dad” 

“We’re going home.” Keith announced.

[violettduchess]

Hello I hope not to bother for the Winter Flurries

The spin prompts wheel landed on sleep intimacy Can I have it with Keith? 🙏 One of thetwo is fine whoever you are most comfortable with 🤗

I am sending you guys and support for your job I never thought it was so hard 😳 You have my respect Remember to take breaks sometimes to and fuel yourself with your fav snack 😉😘

A/N: Here you are @queengiuliettafirstlady 💜

Keith x Reader

WC: ~680

The Jadean morning light slides eager fingers along the window panes of your bedroom but it is no match for the heavy forest green velvet of your drapery. Not even a sliver of light manages to sneak its way into the darkened haven of the room. If you knew it was so late in the morning, you would feel a deep flush of embarrassment that you were still abed. But the curtains keep you cocooned in darkness and the strong arm wrapped around your middle anchors you to a very warm, very naked body.

You snuggle even closer, burrowing deeper into Keith’s sleep-heavy embrace. His breathing shifts, air drawn in quickly for only a moment before he exhales, remaining in the sea of sleep, under the waves of dreaming.

There is nothing that makes you happier than this, a moment in time where you are both at complete and utter peace. Where there is no worry for the burdens of the day or the regrets of the past. There is only you and the man who is yours to love, your hearts beating in tranquil unison.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel him move, a languid, full-body motion like that of a panther slanting down to stretch its powerful muscles. Keith's long legs extend and he sighs, relishing the feel of the cool silk sheets not warmed by his body. A deep rumble rolls through his chest as he half-groans, half-yawns, pushing away the last lingering cobwebs of sleep.

“Mmm….breakfast,” he murmurs, his voice gravel bedecked in satin. 

“What’re you–Oh!” He bites into the curve of your shoulder, a breathlessly unexpected action. His large hand is now splayed possessively against your stomach and you know exactly who has woken up.

Your heart slingshots against your breastbone as you turn within the tight circle of his arms. The room is still bathed in shadow, still holding the daybreak at bay. His eyes look like burnished gold in the dusk of the room.

You slide your hand up between your bodies, cradling his strong jaw in your palm where you can feel, more than see, his smile.

“I think we may have already missed breakfast.” You stroke the smooth skin of his cheek. He turns, with a smile both quick and wild, and bites the tip of your index finger, laughing when you gasp. 

“Who says I can’t satisfy my hunger right here, right now?” He ducks his head and demonstrates exactly what he means as his tongue traces a heated path down your neck, following the rapidly increasing rhythm of your pulse.

Oh how easy it would be to stay in bed with him all day…..to allow this man to have his fill of you, to give yourself over to it completely.

Temptation winds itself around you, following the path of his covetous hands, his insatiable mouth. 

So very easy……

The sun has given up trying to lure you out of bed, instead concentrating all of its efforts on illuminating the rolling green fields, the proud forests, the smooth gray stone of the castle.

It is already tiring, reading itself to embrace the promise of evening when Keith blinks, momentarily disoriented as he wakes up. How late is it? How long have you been asleep? 

You’re curled up against him, one arm thrown across his strong chest, your head a warm, heavy weight on his shoulder. Your hair is tousled, your skin decorated with clusters of pink love bites. They remind him of cherry blossoms floating across still waters. Slowly, he moves his free arm and traces over several of them, his touch tender. He knows that he would never hurt you, that any mark left on your beautiful skin was welcomed. 

His large hand moves to brush away several strands of hair that lay across your cheek and his heart feels warm and light, like it could rise up to the heavens and outshine any star pinned to the night sky.

You stir, sliding your leg over his and readjusting your cheek on his shoulder before sinking back down into the lulling ocean of dreams.

Forget time and it’s demanding minutes and hours. Today has been lost to the feel of you wrapped in his arms. The both of you rising in a shower of sparks and then falling together, swathed in peaceful darkness.

He sighs, deeply content and wholly in love, letting his golden eyes flutter closed once again.

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