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broiderie · 2 months

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📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 5603

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, childhood trauma, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

8. Honey-Mascarpone Crêpes

Bucky

Once Steve talks him off the cliff of domspace (not the good kind), Bucky's able to calm down and see things more rationally.

First off, he stops being mad at Mary. He has to remember that she's going through right now what he went through as a kid. She's dealing with the loss of her freedom, shifting self-perception, horribly unbalanced (probably) neurotransmitters, and the complete—if temporary—restructuring of her life. Sure, she's bratting, but subs brat as a coping mechanism, and Bucky knows he needs to be a good dom for her, not an overreacting hothead. He can do that. He can totally do that.

(Having Steve around certainly helps, though.)

Mary is clearly surprised when he gets home from work and doesn't immediately set in to scolding her. But Steve was right: they have to wait to get a discipline plan in place. Mary might have a good sense of what'll piss Bucky off, but they've never explicitly sat down and defined the rules, their roles, or the consequences for misbehavior.

So Bucky just acts neutrally that evening and they eat dinner together and relax in front of the tv until bedtime. Mary seems to expect him to do something, punish her somehow. The thing is, he should. It's what's good and healthy for her. Bucky knows submissives very well, is very attuned to them, so he's sure that Mary's actually aching for a little correction by the time he and Steve calmly bid her goodnight and head off to their own bedroom. Bucky wishes he could give her what she needs, but he consoles himself with the fact that soon he'll be able to.

The next morning, Steve and Mary are both quiet. Bucky doesn't think too much about it. When he gets out to the kitchen, Steve informs him that they have an appointment at the Center that evening, and Mary pushes a plate of crêpes at him without meeting his eyes and then turns away.

"What's this?" Bucky asks, picking up his fork and prodding at the—frankly, delicious-looking—pile of folded cakes. He takes a bite and his eyes slip closed momentarily as he forces himself not to moan. When he opens his eyes again, Mary's watching him from over by the sink, biting her lip.

"Stop biting your lip," he says.

She stops.

Bucky gets that nice, warmth-after-whiskey rush in his chest at the obedience. He gets to work in cutting off another bite of the crêpes. "Are these an apology?" he asks, eyebrow arched at her. "For your behavior yesterday?" He puts the bite of crêpe in his mouth and chews, smug about the fact that she's flushing in embarrassment.

"They're crêpes," she mumbles. "With mascarpone and honey."

"Hmm." Bucky nods along and chews, enjoying the flavors while he maintains solid eye contact with her. After he pauses to swallow, he says, "Apology crêpes, then. Good girl. Apology accepted."

She doesn't say anything back to that, just gets pink in the face at the 'good girl' and whirls around to face the sink and do dishes.

Bucky smirks in satisfaction, then meets Steve's eyes. His husband looks deep in thought, but when Bucky prompts him with a questioning look, Steve just shakes his head and smiles avoidantly. "I already ate mine," he says, then pushes off from the counter. "I'm gonna go grab a shower."

Shrugging, Bucky goes back to eating his apology crêpes. "These are really good, Mare," he says. Over by the sink, he sees her head bob in a little nod. "You okay, Honey?"

She nods again, using the sprayer to rinse a dish. "Do we really have to go?" she complains, almost shyly and in a way that makes Bucky think that maybe his apology crêpes are actually 'please don't take me to go get a blood test' crêpes. "I hate needles."

"Don't be a baby," Bucky chides. "It's one poke and you're done. It's for your own good."

"Ugh."

Steve

On the day after the blood test, Steve glances sideways at his husband to gauge his reaction to the news they’ve just been given. Bucky’s frowning lightly, almost looks like his feelings are hurt. “Babe ...” Steve says softly.

“I don’t understand,” Bucky says, addressing Linda, who’s sitting in the chair across from them, who’s got them alone in her office while Mary is off at some sort of class. This is Bucky and Steve’s time now, to discuss the care of their charge, and Linda’s just told them the results of Mary’s bloodwork. Bucky continues to frown as if insulted. “I’ve been bringing her down every night. Every night. How can that not have made a difference?”

Linda shakes her head. “It has made a difference, but her levels aren’t near what they should be at this point.”

“Levels?” Steve asks.

“Dopamine,”

“Serotonin,”

Linda’s mouth quirks at her and Bucky having spoken over each other. “Both,” she says. “Along with oxytocin. They’re called the ‘happy hormones.’ When people like Bucky or Mary go without treatment, they have an imbalance of them. The further on the spectrum they are, the worse the imbalance tends to be.” She looks back down to her clipboard, which holds Mary’s test results. “She’s not in what I’d call the danger zone anymore, but we should definitely discuss options for how to help improve these levels.” Linda looks up, blinking expectantly at them through her glasses. “So? What all have you been doing during your scenes?”

Bucky tells her, laying out the general gist of what they do during the evenings in their apartment. But when he stops talking, Linda still looks expectant. “So ... there hasn’t been any sex play?”

Steve feels his cheeks heat at the term. He glances over at Bucky, who’s shaking his head.

“She hasn’t initiated, and I haven't wanted to scare her off or make her feel like she has to. They’re always going on about subs’ sexual autonomy these days, you know?”

Linda sighs and uses a finger to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Bucky, that’s admirable, really. But you of all people should know it’s unrealistic.”

“Is it?” Steve asks. Bucky puts a hand on his knee in what feels like a patronizing, 'The adults are speaking, Honey,' and Linda says,

“Sexual domination or submission isn’t necessary for anyone on the spectrum, but it is the most efficient way to get the job done.” She looks at Bucky with a little bit of reproach in her gaze, if Steve is reading her right. “She’d probably have to be dropped three or more times a day, if sex play wasn’t involved.” She looks back and forth between the two of them. “Are you and Steve no longer comfortable with sex outside of your marriage? Because if that’s the case then I really do have to recommend that you allow Mary to attend our socials, so that she can find a partner. Either that or we can schedule her for visits with one of our ProDoms.”

“No,” Bucky says, wasp-quick. “I don’t want her with strangers.”

Steve nods, though he feels like a cad for agreeing.

Linda purses her lips. “Well obviously it’s not the best option, but if the two of you aren’t willing to—”

“We are!” Steve blurts, maybe a little too loudly. He winces and reigns himself in. “Sorry, I just mean …”

Bucky’s metal hand covers his on the couch cushion. “We’re willing to make it sexual,” he says. “But we just don’t know how to … approach it with her, I guess.” Then he adds, “I’ve kissed her. Once. And that went over well. She seems receptive to Steve too.”

Linda nods, writing something down on her clipboard. “That’s good, good. Okay. Well with that in mind, when Mary has her session with me this evening I’ll administer some tests to help her map out what might be most useful for her to go down during sex play.”

Steve fights back a wince. He really wishes Dr. Linda wouldn’t call it that. “Make sure she knows we’re not pressuring her, okay?” he says.

“Of course not,” Linda says. “We’re just presenting all the options.”

The Center for Designated People is housed in a building in Queens, and it’s made up of a lot of glazed brown brick from the 80’s.

This is the first time Mary’s been anywhere other than Linda’s office or the waiting area immediately outside of it. Come to find, there’s a bit more to the CDP than just therapists’ offices. There are classrooms and conference rooms, and a big social area with game tables and couches and a carpeted amphitheater that reminds her of the student union building back in college.

She’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to be doing with herself. Everybody else seems to be mingling, comfortable in a way that she herself isn’t. Today’s the second day in a row that she’s had to show up at the CDP, and yesterday kind of left a bad taste in her mouth about it.

Yesterday, they drew her blood to test for neurochemicals. To make sure that she’s getting better, whatever that means. Mary hates needles and she’d resented the hell out of Bucky and Steve when they basically bossed her all the way down to the lab for the draw.

“It’s for your own good.”

God, she's tired of hearing that phrase. Everybody, especially Bucky, seems to think that they know what is for her “own good.” Personally, she thinks that Bucky just gets a thrill out saying the words. She thinks he gets off on it.

(… Never mind that something deep in her belly clenches whenever she hears him say it.)

The results of her tests are back, and they’re “not great” according to Linda—Linda, who’s holed herself up in the office with Bucky and Steve, whilst banishing Mary to a rec room full of other submissives.

They’re having some sort of low key party. Linda had called it a “social.” Bucky didn’t want her to go at first, until he heard that there would only be submissives at the party, no dominants. He’s so possessive, jeez.

There are maybe thirty other people in the room, talking in small groups, looking like they all know each other and are friends. There’s a tv and a foosball table and a bunch of little couches in squared off areas. A couple of people are sitting in the amphitheater playing boardgames, and there’s a table set up with snack foods and a punch bowl. It could almost be any normal social gathering, the only giveaway being that more than a few of the people present are wearing collars.

Like: openly and obviously, as if the collars are just another accessory to their outfits. Mary’s got a feeling that the collars are worn to make a statement, though she can’t for the life of her understand why someone would want to advertise that they’re like this.

She avoids the other people and goes over to the food, picking out a few things to nibble on. She tries to make herself seem busy by focusing on some pamphlets she’d picked up in the lobby outside Linda’s office. There’s one that has a serene picture of three river rocks stacked in a reflective pool of water, and the title reads, “Embracing Submission.” Mary rolls her eyes and tosses it aside.

She pulls out the pocket copy of the DSM V that Linda had reluctantly handed over (“It’s very clinical language. Don’t read too much into it.”), and searches out the section on Submissive Personality Disorder.

Personality disorders (PD) are a class of mental disorders characterized by enduring maladaptive patterns of behavior, cognition, and inner experience, exhibited across many contexts and deviating from those accepted by the individual's culture. These patterns develop early, are inflexible, and are associated with significant distress or disability.

Cluster C (anxious or fearful disorders): Avoidant Personality Disorder, Obsessive-compulsive Personality Disorder, Dominant Personality Disorder, Submissive Personality Disorder.

Submissive Personality Disorder (SPD) is a personality disorder that is characterized by a pervasive psychological dependence on and deference towards other people; especially to those who are oriented towards a dominant personality, or “Dominant Personality Disorder” (DPD). SPD is a long-term condition[1] in which people depend on others to meet their emotional and physical needs, with only a minority achieving normal levels of independence. SPD is a Cluster C personality disorder[2], characterized by excessive fear and anxiety. Typically beginning in early adolescence, it is present in a variety of contexts and is associated with inadequate functioning. Symptoms can include anything from extreme passivity, devastation, or helplessness when relationships end, to avoidance of responsibilities and severe submission. Manifestations may include:

Cognitive: a perception of oneself as powerless and ineffectual, coupled with the belief that other people are comparatively powerful and potent.

Motivational: a desire to obtain and maintain relationships with protectors and caregivers.

Behavioral: a pattern of relationship-facilitating behavior designed to strengthen interpersonal ties and minimize the possibility of abandonment and rejection.

Emotional: fear of abandonment, fear of rejection, and anxiety regarding evaluation by figures of authority.[8]

Diagnostic Criteria: A diagnosis of Submissive Personality Disorder is indicated when five or more of the following criteria are met:

Has difficulty making everyday decisions without an excessive amount of advice and reassurance from a Dom.

Needs a Dom to assume responsibility for most major areas of their life.

Has difficulty expressing disagreement with others because of fear of loss of support or approval.

Has difficulty initiating projects or doing things on their own (because of a lack of self confidence in judgment or abilities rather than a lack of motivation or energy).

Goes to excessive lengths to obtain nurturance and support from Doms, to the point of volunteering to do things that are unpleasant.

Feels uncomfortable or helpless when alone because of exaggerated fears of being unable to care for themselves.

Urgently seeks another relationship as a source of care and support when a close relationship ends.

Is unrealistically preoccupied with fears of being left to take care of themselves.[11]

*As of December, 1998, the additional criteria of neurochemical imbalance has been added by the American Psychiatric Association.

Christ.

Mary’s not stupid, she can see where she fits into some (maybe most) of those categories. And nearly every line makes her want to throw the book across the room. She doesn’t like the picture it paints of someone like her, not at all. For lack of a better word, it's pathetic. So she pulls out her phone and looks up the Wikipedia page instead.

The World Health Organization (WHO) has isolated nine defining emotional and social attributes of those suffering from Submissive Personality Disorder (SPD):

Tends to become attached quickly and/or intensely, developing feelings and expectations that are not warranted by the history or context of the relationship.

Due to a tendency to be ingratiating and submissive, is likely to enter into relationships in which they are emotionally or physically abused, or “dominated.”

Tends to feel ashamed, inadequate, and depressed.

Is highly suggestible.

Reacts to force or dominance from others with periods of mild derealization, or “submissive fugue.”

Engages in passive-aggressive reactions to social interaction.

Has difficulty acknowledging and expressing anger, struggles to get their own needs and goals met.

Has an inability to soothe or comfort themself when distressed, they require involvement of a Dom to help regulate their emotions.[10]

Displays a marked positive reaction to physical touch and affection, especially to the neck and head.

Well. That’s not exactly an easy pill to swallow. Mary fits almost every one of those qualities, if she’s really being honest with herself. But reading about it all clinical like that leaves a sour feeling in her stomach. Dr. Linda was right: she shouldn’t have read up on it. She shoves her phone back in her bag and returns to the refreshments table. She’s just finished ladling out a cup of punch for herself when a wry voice says,

“Careful. Last few socials, that’s gotten spiked.”

Mary turns. The voice belongs to a young woman. Maybe Mary’s own age, or a bit younger. She’s got that Seattle hipster look, with long dark hair crammed under a beanie, wide rimmed glasses, and an overlarge sweater with holes in the sleeves. She’s giving Mary a friendly look, though. “You’re new.” She states it, doesn’t ask, then holds out her hand. “I’m Darcy.”

Mary shakes her hand, pulling back as soon as can be considered polite. “Hi. Mary.”

Darcy smiles. She looks over her shoulder at the room full of people, then turns back with an apologetic expression. “Don't worry. It can be weird when you’re new. But it’s pretty easy to make friends around here.”

Mary tries not to make a face at the way Darcy talks about it—like this is some sort of club that she’s expected to join. “This is, um … I’m just waiting here while my friends see a therapist.”

Darcy boldly takes the punch glass right out of Mary's hand and sips from it. She looks thoughtful for a second, then nods and hands the cup back. “Yep, it’s fine,” she says. “Usually Scott’s the culprit, I think. And he’s not here today, so.”

Mary blinks down at the cup, wondering who Scott is. “Um …”

“So what brought you in?” Darcy asks. “TDO, or just curious?”

“TD-what?”

“Oh, you know: cops, the psych ward, all that good stuff.” She waves her hand, like this is a common thing and not something to balk at, like half the room’s occupants have gone through cops and psych wards.

Mary’s eyes flick back around at a few of the people nearby. Maybe they have, she thinks. Hell, it’s not like Mary herself wasn’t handcuffed to a hospital bed less than a month ago. The only reason a visit to the psych ward didn’t happen to her was because Bucky and Steve stepped in to help. She frowns as she thinks about how differently it could’ve gone.

“Sorry,” Darcy says, looking sheepish. “That’s kinda heavy, I guess. I tend to just say things.”

“No, you’re okay.”

“I saw you over here making friends with the vegetables and thought I’d butt in,” she says. She leans over and grabs a celery stick, dips it liberally in what looks like ranch dressing, before stuffing it in her mouth.

Mary wonders if it’s her own way of shutting herself up. “Really, it’s fine. I didn’t have anybody to talk to. I don’t mind.” She tries to offer a smile that doesn’t come across as forced or strained, but isn’t sure she manages. Wasn’t there a time when she had friends? It feels like a lifetime ago. In a weak attempt to seem receptive, she lifts her punch glass and takes a big sip, smiling over the rim.

Darcy tips her head. “Come on. Let’s grab some of the good chairs before they’re all gone.” They settle into a pair of very worn but very comfortable chairs, and Mary resists the urge to tuck her legs up underneath herself. Darcy, however, leans back and props her feet on the coffee table like she’s right at home . “So I take it you’re a TDO, then,” she says.

“I don’t know what that stands for.”

“Temporary detainment order. When they haul you off and force treatment.”

“Oh.” Mary squirms, hating to remember that night and how embarrassing she’d been. In front of Bucky, Steve, even the cop. Ugh, it’s so cringe. “Erm, yeah,” she mutters. “Basically.”

Darcy nods along, unfazed. “Yeah I went through all that, too. Couple’a years ago. It was fucked. Trust me, I did not want to be here at first. The courts made me come. Sent me with a social worker to make sure I didn't skip out, the whole nine yards.” She makes a face that looks just like how Mary feels when thinking about her own night in the ER. “God, it was so cringe.”

Mary stiffens at hearing her own thoughts reflected almost word for word. “But now?” she asks, eyes flicking down to the collar Darcy’s got on. “You still come here?”

“Oh yeah! This place is the shit. I love it.” Darcy grins and thumbs over her shoulder at the area where the foosball table is. “Tall lanky guy, taking it way too seriously? That’s Ian. He’s my sister wife.”

Mary nearly chokes on her punch. “Your what?”

“He and I share the same Dom.”

Mary blinks, working that one out in her head. “So … you’re a throuple?” Is that a usual thing with these people? she wonders. (… Could she be in a throuple with Bucky and Steve?)

“No, Ian’s my boyfriend. But he’s a sub too, so we come here to get services from Thor.”

Mary’s eyebrows rise. “Thor?”

“Yeah I know. Weird name, right? He looks it, too. You should see him. He’s this huge blond guy, accent. I think he’s actually from Norway. Or something. Wherever the Vikings were from.”

“So you …” Mary tries to parse out what she wants to ask. “You pay to have sex with him?”

Darcy pauses and looks at her strangely. “No,” she says slowly. “Insurance covers it. He just Doms us. You know, like helps us with our weekly drops? There’s no sex.” She laughs. “Dude. Only, like, extreme cases need that.”

Mary knows she’s blushing now. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She bites her lip and tentatively asks, “But you said you see him weekly?”

“Yeah. Once a week. Usually Fridays.”

“... But like, at home? You don’t have other stuff?”

Darcy frowns. “What other stuff?”

“Like … like dropping,” Mary whispers, like it’s a bad word. “You’re saying you only do that once a week?”

“Yeah, usually. I mean unless we’ve got some really stressful shit going on. Like, when it was my finals week? I booked Thor three times that week.” She huffs like that’s a preposterous amount of times. “But other than that, yeah, once usually tides us over. That’s pretty standard.”

Mary squirms uncomfortably as she thinks about the nightly ritual she has with Bucky and Steve. “Oh.” She says quietly, because what else is she supposed to say? She wishes she could leave to go process this, maybe ask Linda about it. Because what Darcy’s just said does not match up with her own experiences, and it’s kind of jarring—no, scratch that, it’s definitely jarring. Sure, theoretically Mary already knew that she’d been labeled as a “high needs” submissive, but she hadn’t realized how different it was. Other subs only need to get dropped once a week? And according to Darcy, there’s not ever sex involved? Dr. Linda keeps insisting that Mary needs a sexual dynamic.

‘Only extreme cases need that’—Darcy’s words ring in her ears, making her super self-conscious. She’s extreme. She must be. How embarrassing.

“Hey, you okay?” Darcy tilts her head in concern. “What’d I say?”

“N-nothing,” Mary hurries to compose herself. “I was just thinking, that’s all. I’m still so new to all of this.” She tries to think of something to say to change the topic. “Ahm, so … Thor. He’s like a therapist, then? Here at the center?”

“He’s a ProDom,” Darcy corrects. “Which is kinda like a therapist I guess, but not like the actual shrinks they have here. The Pros get paid to help us with our drops. And highs,” she adds belatedly. “The ProSubs do that, I mean.”

Mary blinks at the idea that there are also professional submissive services for dominants. Has Bucky ever …?

“And they teach classes here too. Ohmygosh!” Darcy’s face lights up and Mary instinctively shrinks back at the enthusiasm. “You should totally sign up for some.”

“Classes?” Mary says, sure that her tone is showing how much she doesn’t want to do that.

“Yeah! Oh my gosh it is the best way to meet people, and the classes are actually pretty fun. It’s how I met Ian. And they definitely saved my ass back when I was new. Hey, I’ll help you pick some out!”

Mary flounders, not wanting to be insulting but also really, really not into the idea of coming back to the CDP any more than Bucky forces her to. “Um I’m kinda busy with …”

“Mare.”

She inhales sharply at the sound of Bucky’s voice. She turns around in her seat and she sees him and Steve coming over. Her shoulders sag with relief. Saved by the bell. “Hey guys,” she chirps, sitting up straighter. Is it time to go?” She starts to get up from her seat and shoot an apology Darcy’s way. “Hey, it’s been nice meeting you but I guess I have to—”

“Are these your Doms?” Darcy asks, looking wide eyed at Steve and Bucky. “Wow.” The look on her face might as well read: hubba hubba. “Um. Well done, girl.”

Mary huffs. “I didn’t pick them.”

Before Darcy can respond to that, Bucky’s coming closer (and Steve by extension because—living in each other’s skin, and whatnot). Bucky looks pleased. “Making friends?” he asks Mary.

What is she supposed to say? ‘Not if I can help it’? She shrugs in answer. Darcy, unfortunately, presses the issue of the classes to Bucky.

“I told her she should sign up for some.”

“Really, I don’t think—”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Bucky says, cutting Mary off. He glances to Steve, who shrugs like a big dummy. “I don’t know what they offer these days,” Bucky says. “It’s been a hot minute since I took a class here. What do they have for subs?” He’s asking Darcy, who unfortunately is very helpful and replies,

“I’m coteaching one this winter! It’s a four week course on recognizing Drop. Knowing the signs of deprivation to look for, self care, that kind of thing.”

“Really,” Mary tries again. “I don’t need to—”

“Mary,” Bucky says, and his voice has changed to that calm, firm register that he uses when he’s being really serious about controlling her. His “Dom” voice. That’s what Steve calls it. Mary swallows at the way he's looking at her now. He puts his hand on her shoulder, and it’s not the metal one but the simple presence of it there still feels like a hundred pounds. “I want you to go to the class with Darcy. You’ll learn a lot.”

“I don’t want to,” she snaps quietly. “I have work.”

“Your boss knows about your condition,” he says, infuriatingly calm.

“Yeah, because you told him!” Talk about mortifying.

Bucky’s fingers squeeze her shoulder lightly. “Hush. If the classes interfere with work, you can get your shift changed for that day.”

“They’re evening classes. On Wednesdays,” Darcy supplies.

“Perfect! She never works evenings.” Bucky releases Mary’s shoulder and nods like this makes it final. “My email’s in the database,” he tells Darcy. “Barnes. B-A-R-N-E-S. Can you email me the info?”

“Sure!” Darcy looks thrilled. She shoots Mary a saucy wink. “Thor’s the co-teacher, so you’ll get to meet him. We use him as our practice Dom.”

“Huh?” Mary says, just as Bucky says,

“Thor?” and tenses up by her side. “The Pro?”

Darcy grins, oblivious to Bucky’s stiffening posture. “Yeah! He’s who we practice with. Kind of like in a self-defense class how there’s the big guy you practice kicking in the nuts and whatnot? Thor’s our guy. Except we don't, you know, kick him in the nuts or anything. He drops us. For practice.”

Bucky’s entire attitude has changed since the mention of Thor being involved. Mary watches his expression darken and she delights a little bit in the opportunity to rile him up. “… Yeah,” she says slowly, as if the idea is now coming around on her. “Yeah I think I will go to the classes.” She peeks up at Bucky and sees him pressing his lips into a tight line. Mary grins. “Thanks Darcy. Email Bucky the info and I’ll be there. Should be fun! Can’t wait to meet Thor.”

Darcy nods and smiles brilliantly and bids them all goodbye, and then Mary walks out of the room with Steve and Bucky by her side. She feels smug, and is just waiting for Bucky to start complaining.

“Babe …” Steve says quietly, speaking to Bucky. He takes Bucky’s hand in his as they walk, and Mary watches the two of them have one of their freaky weird silent conversations. It ends when Bucky gives an unhappy grunt, but whatever matter they’d discussed (herself, Mary assumes), seems settled.

“You can take the class,” Bucky says, sounding none too happy about it.

Mary smirks haughtily. “I thought you wanted me to in the first place?”

Bucky says nothing. Mary remains smug.

She stops being smug when it’s her turn in Linda’s office, and she’s just been told the results of her bloodwork.

“So … I have to?” she says, voice tiny. “With them?”

“Bucky and Steve? No, not necessarily,” Linda says, sitting up straighter. “Who you have sex with is your choice, Mary. You have options.”

Mary glances back at the door, as if Bucky’s on the other side with his ear pressed up against the crack. She wouldn’t put it past him. “Can’t we just keep doing it the way we have been?” she asks. She thinks about how Darcy had made a weird face and said that 'only the extreme cases' needed sexual domination.

Linda looks almost pained as she admits, “I’d have to recommend you be admitted to an inpatient program then, if sex play was absolutely off the table. Multiple drops per day would be required to—”

“What?!” Mary groans, grabbing her hair and yanking it a little as she runs her fingers back through it. Multiple drops per day? What a joke. She’d be a drooling, submissive zombie! “No way! I can't do that!” She wouldn't be able to keep her job if she had to do that. She wouldn’t be able to bake, or work out. She’d have no life!

“We hardly ever institutionalize people like that anymore,” Linda assures her. “And I promise I won’t recommend it if you can find a drop partner with whom you’re comfortable.”

“To fuck,” Mary grumps, being crass on purpose.

“Mary ...” Linda looks sorrowfully at her. “Really, this isn’t the norm. People like you usually test into the system early and grow up with much better care plans in place. Like Bucky did. This is really an unfortunate convergence of circumstances. We only want what’s best for—”

“I want drugs,” Mary says, blurting it out because she’s feeling icy panic at the way Linda had thrown out the word 'institutionalization'. Jesus Christ. “That’ll make me better, right?”

Linda downright cringes. “The medications we have available for this still come with a lot of side effects. I’m not going to prescribe those for you yet.”

"Well what are the side effects?”

Linda sighs as if Mary is the biggest pest. “Let’s at least have you take the assessment I told you about, okay?”

“Ugh. Fine.” A test can’t hurt, at least, Mary thinks. Linda looks pleased.

“Good. The SSITA is the first step. We’ll get you evaluated and go from there, okay?” She pushes the clipboard of papers on the coffee table over to her.

When Mary looks down, she reads the title page: Submissive Sexual Interests and Tendencies Assessment. “That’s … that’s personal,” she whispers, feeling her whole body heat. She shakes her head, already hating the idea.

“The results will be completely confidential. I won’t ever see your answers and neither will Bucky or Steve,” Linda promises, knowing by now that such a thing would humiliate Mary. “So there’s no reason not to answer honestly. A panel of staff who don’t know you and will never meet you evaluate the answers and send recommendations. That’s all.”

Mary picks the clipboard up with shaking hands. It holds a packet of papers with a pen tucked in at the clip. She bites her lip and nods. “Okay.” She takes the pen out and gets started.

It takes her about forty minutes to complete the assessment. It’s formatted into a bunch of statements with “strongly agree” all the way to “strongly disagree.” Checking the circles honestly has her blushing a bit some of the time, but Mary reassures herself with what Linda had said about the test’s anonymity. There are short answer questions at the end that have her gritting her teeth, but she’s honest, God help her. “Okay,” she says when she’s finished, handing the packet back over.

Linda briskly slips it into a manilla envelope and seals it. That’s reassuring, too. Mary takes a deep breath. “So, I don’t know who I’ll … ya know,” she makes a face, “do it with. Darcy said there are Professionals here? ProDoms?”

“Oh you met Darcy? She’s a wonderful girl. Very involved here. Yes we have our staff of ProDoms of course. But um,” Linda tilts her head. “What about Bucky?”

Mary looks down at her lap, thinking about the kiss they’d had. It’d been … Mary’s not sure she’s ever felt so unmoored by just a kiss. “He’s married,” she says quietly. “To Steve.” She thinks about her midnight conversation with Steve.

Linda is silent for a moment, and then she says carefully, “Mary ... Bucky and Steve have talked to me about this. During their sessions with me.”

“They have?”

“They’ve both expressed positive feelings about the possibility of a sexual relationship with you.”

Mary just about swallows her own tongue at that one. “Positive feelings?” What the hell does that mean? Has Bucky told Dr. Linda about the kiss? Has he told Steve?

Should she tell Steve? She’d hate to be the reason to break up a good marriage. ... But then again, Dr. Linda just said 'positive feelings'. Maybe that means that Steve and Bucky do want more.

Linda smiles encouragingly and puts the sealed assessment on her desk. “Yep. I suggest you talk with them about it.”

Mary sighs. Easier said than done.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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broiderie · 2 months

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the baseball players are about to mount a coup and i’m here for it

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broiderie · 2 months

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Needed this today

Remember,

You are a practicing pagan. You don't have to do spell work everyday. You don't have to talk to your deities everyday. You don't have to spend every waking second focusing on your practice to be a valid pagan.

Your valid. No matter how often you're able to work with your deities. No matter how often you do spell work. No matter if you dedicate little or big things to your practice.

You make an effort once in awhile and thats more than enough. Save your spoons, it's ok.

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broiderie · 2 months

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Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 28

Alright. It's a doozy. I'm talking like twice or three times the length of most of my chapters, but y'all voted for it. Here it is.

Do not steal my shit. This is the only place this is posted and there's a damn good reason for it. People have been waiting a long time for this chapter.

WARNINGS: cussing, 18+ only, unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), oral sex (f receiving), etc. It's fluffy porn for the last 2K+ words, okay?

Also - the first time I've EVER published something like this so be gentle. Better yet - be specific if you like it because I probably won't have the guts to write more like it if you aren't.

In Santo Padre proper, Hank parked the bike outside the best restaurant in town. He locked down their helmets and offered Megan his arm as he escorted her to the hostess stand.

“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?” the young lady asked.

“Should be under Loza,” Hank said, squeezing Megan’s hand gently.

“Yes sir. We have your table all ready for you. Please follow me.” She led them inside where they checked their jackets and then took them to a table that was fairly private. “Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal.”

Hank pulled Megan’s chair out for her and guided it in before taking his own seat.

Megan looked around with wide eyes. “Holy shit, Hank. I don’t know how to act in something as upscale as this.”

Hank laughed a little. “You’re doing fine, mi reina. Relax. It’s not as stuffy as it seems. I bring Mama here for special occasions. I promise, you’ll be just fine.” He leaned forward and took her good hand in his. “Besides - you don’t have to be anything except yourself. We don’t even have to order here. They just serve us the meal prepared for the evening. No decisions. No menus. Just us and dinner.” He couldn’t resist kissing her knuckles again as he watched her settle at his touch.

A waiter appeared at his elbow inquiring as to what they’d like to drink. Megan ordered water and Hank did as well. “We won’t be needing the wine list either,” Hank told him with a smile for Megan.

The bread and salad came out soon after they’d both gotten their drinks. As they ate, they talked softly about anything that came to mind. By the time the main course arrived, Megan was as relaxed in public as she could be.

Hank was in the middle of telling Megan a story about when he was a young man in the military when their waiter appeared again to refill their water glasses. “Pardon me, but Mr. Galindo sends his regards and would like to buy your table a round of drinks,” he informed them.

Megan stiffened and looked around before clocking Miguel Galindo at a solitary table on the balcony. His head of security - the mercenary with the braids - stood near him. He raised a whiskey glass to acknowledge her look.

Hank nodded. “You can tell Mr. Galindo that we appreciate his offer, but we’re not drinking tonight. Thank you,” he said levelly.

“Very well sir,” the waiter said before leaving them to eat in peace.

“What the hell does he think he’s doing? Megan fumed quietly. “There’s no way he thought that would be well received.”

Hank reached across the table to clasp her hand again to steady her. “Easy, mi princessa. THe more he sees it bothers us, the more outrageous he’ll get. Just ignore him.” He gently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Deep breath. Don’t let him get to you.”

Megan took a deep breath and squeezed his fingers before she started eating the steak and vegetables that was their main course.

Once the main course was finished, the waiter appeared again to clear their plates. “Would you like dessert?”

Hank grinned. “What is it tonight?”

“Triple chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream.”

Hank looked at Megan with a smile. “What do you think, mi amore?”

Megan cracked a smile and bit her bottom lip.

“I do believe that’s a yes. We’ll take one,” Hank laughed.

While they were waiting on their dessert, Hank reached for her hands again. “Still up for dancing after this, mi reina?”

“Of course. You promised to teach me how to really dance.” She grinned. “Tío Marcus has taught me some of the formal stuff, but Coco swears I look like a stiff.”

Hank laughed. “Alright. There’s a little dance club down the street-”

“Excuse me. I hate to interrupt -”

Hank sighed and looked up to find Miguel standing by their table adjusting his cufflinks.

He watched Megan sink a bit in her chair. “Mr. Galindo. What can we do for you?” He reached to guide Megan around the table to bring her closer to him.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but notice that your sling is off, Ms. Morales. Is that wise?” Miguel asked.

Megan looked to Hank in a panic without saying anything, so he pulled her around to sit on his knee. “Megan was cleared by a doctor earlier today. We’re actually celebrating that tonight. Was there something you needed?” Hank asked, gently rubbing the small of her back over the low back of her dress.

Miguel raised his eyebrows. “Ms. Morales - your voice has changed. I was under the impression that you were an officer in the M.C. Surely you can answer for yourself.”

Megan rested against Hank and took a deep breath. “Mr. Galindo, I am the Armorer of this charter, however, I’m not a voting member. I also don’t speak for the club on anything. Hank or another member will always be the one to speak instead of myself. That’s just how the structure of our organization works.”

Galindo smirked. “Ah, but we weren’t discussing business, Ms. Morales. We were discussion your personal safety. Perhaps you would do better with my organization watching out for you.”

“Either way, Mr. Galindo, my caballero or my father or godfathers will always speak for me first. They will always protect my interests,” Megan stated confidently. Hank nodded and placed a kiss to the side of her head.

“Surely you don’t see me as a threat, Ms. Morales. I’m a friend of your godfather. I’d like to be a friend to you.” He cut his eyes at Hank. “What’s preventing this relationship from becoming a friendship?”

Hank rubbed his hand up and down Megan’s bare back again and smiled. “Mr. Galindo, Megan can befriend whomever she likes. However, she also is still recovering from the abuse she suffered at the hands of people in a position of power over her. Because of that, she doesn’t feel comfortable discussing things with people that she doesn’t know. That’s where her club comes in. That’s where her family comes in.”

Megan settled against Hank’s chest and leaned her head against his shoulder as he continued to soothe her with his touch.

Miguel nodded and seated himself in Megan’s abandoned chair. “So, how can I gain your trust Ms. Morales? My business runs on trust. I don’t like not having yours.”

Megan sat up again, but continued to lean into Hank for courage. “Mr. Galindo, trust takes time to build. You have to give me time to get to know you and your organization. Time to see that you’re trustworthy.”

“Time? You need time?” Miguel ran his pointer finger over his top lip. “I can give you time, Cariño. On one condition…”

“What is your condition, Mr. Galindo?” Megan asked, lacing the fingers of her good hand through Hank’s where his hand rested on her hip.

“You allow me to attempt to earn that trust from you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Simply… allow me to be… friendly. Accept my gifts. Allow me to speak to you freely on the street without someone to hide behind.” He flashed her a charming smile.

“Mr. Galindo - it’s a free country. You can speak to anyone you’d like. Megan will speak with whomever she pleases. She can accept gifts from anyone - but you cannot require that of her if she is uncomfortable with you. You cannot intimidate mi princessa into trusting you.” Hank squeezed Megan’s waist comfortingly. “No one will ever force la princessa de los Mayas y mi reina to do something against her will again as long as any members of the Mayans M.C. survive. NOw - if you will excuse us - you’re interrupting our celebration. If you’d like to arrange a meeting to discuss la princessa, I suggest you go through proper channels.” Hank’s voice was smooth and calm the entire time he spoke to Galindo, but Megan could feel the tension in his body beneath hers.

Miguel nodded decisively and smirked at Hank’s protective speech. “Very well. Perhaps I will go through the proper channels then. See if I can’t get her as liaison.” He stood and straightened his suit jacket. “Until then, it was wonderful to see you looking so… well, Ms. Morales.” He paused to run his eyes over Megan where she sat. “Enjoy your… celebration.” He gave a mocking not to them and swept out of the restaurant.

As soon as he was out of sight, Megan wilted into Hank as he cuddled her close. He could feel her trembling as she fought to keep her breathing even. “Easy, mi amore. You did beautifully.” He pressed kisses to her hair and used both hands to stroke her back and arms. “Shh. You’re alright. I’ve got you. He’s gone.”

Megan focused on her breathing as it seemed like a bubble of tension in the restaurant popped, releasing a wave of chatter from the other diners. She got herself under control and quickly sat up to give Hank a weak smile.

Hank cupped her cheek in his massive palm and soothed over her cheekbone with his thumb. “There’s my girl.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lip and smiled.

Their waiter reappeared with fresh water and their dessert. “Here you are sir, miss. Can I get you anything else? We appreciate how calmly you took your dinner being interrupted by another guest. My manager would like you to know that tonight’s meal is on the house as a thank you for your patience and kindness.”

Hank smiled at the much smaller man. “Thank your manager for us. I think mi reina would appreciate a cup of tea if you have time.” He smoothed some hair that had escaped her braids out of her face softly as he rocked her.

“Of course. I’ll be right back with that, sir.” The waiter hurried off.

Megan took one more deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth before she smiled at Hank. “Sorry. I froze.”

He kissed her forehead before pulling the dessert close and offering her one of the spoons. “You did just fine, Princessa. Let’s finish dinner and see if you still feel like going dancing afterwards.”

After finishing their dessert and a cup of tea for Megan, Hank guided her back out of the restaurant. He gently helped her into her leather jacket and took her back to his bike.

“Alright, mi amore. Still feel like dancing tonight? I’ll understand if you don’t,” he assured her.

Megan smiled up at him. “I don’t want him to succeed at spoiling our date night. I’d love to go dancing with you.”

Hank lit up. “In that case - let’s leave the bike here. There’s not much parking over by where I want to take you. Do you mind walking?”

“I don’t mind at all. It’s a beautiful night.”

Hank guided her to the inside of the sidewalk and took her good hand as they walked down the street. It wasn’t very far at all and Megan grinned when she could hear the music. “Ready to go dancing for the first time, mi princessa?” Hank asked, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and lingering teasingly.

“Ready.” She smiled up at him, giggling when he guided her into a spin right there on the street.

They rounded the corner and entered a plaza that was lit with strings of lights. The club door was just a few yards away when Megan froze. Hank stopped and turned to check on her with a frown. “Mi amore? What’s wrong?”

Megan pointed to the door where a man with familiar braids stood talking to the bouncer.

“Fuck. Asshole. He delayed us on purpose because he was sending his errand boy ahead,” Hank growled. “Either he’s waiting inside to ambush us again, or he’s paid off the doorman to keep us from getting in.”

Megan sighed and pressed her face into Hank’s bicep. “I really don’t want to deal with him again. He makes me anxious.”

Hank pulled her close and let her tuck herself into his broad chest before he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Then we won’t, mi reina. We can dance another night. We can go home or even back to the clubhouse with your papa and tíos. If you want, we can call the guys and have them bring the girls from Vickie’s - make our own dance club at the clubhouse…” He kissed her hair gently and rocked back and forth to settle her.

Nestor caught sight of them and smiled before patting the bouncer on the shoulder.

Hank struggled not to lose his temper and go a few rounds with the cartel security. He focused on Megan in his arms and got angrier when he heard her sniff back tears. “Oh Princessa. Don’t cry. Don’t let that bastard steal our night.” He loosened his hold until he could tilt her face up to his and kiss her gently right there on the street corner. “Say the word, mi amore, and the club will arrive in force to go in with us if you want to dance in there tonight. You won’t have to deal with him. We’ll shield you.” He wiped the lone tear that slid down her cheek gently.

“No. Let’s just go home.” She shook her head. “No use in getting into fights with the fucking cartel over it.” Her eyes pleaded with Hank to let it go. “Let’s just ignore him and go home.”

He searched her face for a minute. “Alright, mi reina. Alright.” He turned her around and headed back towards the bike.

Once they were back at the bike, Megan sighed. She looked so upset still, and Hank couldn’t stand it. He kissed both sets of knuckles and then her lips before he smiled down at her. “Well - at least I won’t have to shoot anyone for hitting on my gorgeous girl tonight. You really are so beautiful I’d probably have had to fight to keep you to myself in there.”

That got a watery chuckle from her as he leaned down to press a deep kiss to her lips. He pressed her close to his body and smiled as she fought to catch her breath after they broke apart.

His personal phone chimed from his suit jacket pocket which gave him an idea. He pulled it out and started typing furiously. It dinged again - multiple times in a row - alerting her to the amount of responses he was getting. By the time the dinging stopped, he was grinning ear to ear.

“Alright, Princessa. Plan B. Let’s run to the grocery store for some extra ice cream and head home. The night’s not over yet.”

Hank encouraged her to take her time choosing snacks at the store. They got ice cream and topping for it as well as candy of all sorts.

“What are we doing?” Megan giggled as Hank reached for a giant bag of M&Ms.

“It’s a surprise, Princessa. The rich bastard can’t ruin this plan.” He grinned down at the loaded handbasket. “Anything else you want, mi amore?”

“I don’t think so. There’s so much.”

“Gotta have options.” His phone chirped again and he checked it. Whatever was on his screen made him smile in satisfaction. “Let’s head home.”

Back on the bike, Hank felt Megan relax into his back as soon as the wind hit her. When they stopped at a stoplight, he reached back to rest his hand on her bare thigh, stoking the soft skin that he couldn’t feel through his leather riding gloves.

At the ranch, Megan saw that the lights had been turned on inside, but there were no bikes or van parked outside. Once Hank cut the bike’s engin, Megan asked, “Who’s here?” as she removed her helmet.

“No one anymore. I had the Prospect come set some things up for us and then leave the lights on.” He smiled as he guided her off the bike first before dismounting along with her.

“Did you tell Papa what happened?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “Not yet, Princessa. We can tell him tomorrow morning so that he and Bishop can handle it. It’s not going to blow up our night.” He pulled her close and leaned down to kiss her gently. “Let’s go inside.”

Inside the ranch house, everything looked normal in the entrance and the living room, so Megan was a little puzzled. Hank helped her remove her leather jacket and hung it with his before leading her into the kitchen to put away the ice cream. That’s when she noticed it.

Hank had asked EZ to clear the patio of everything except the love seat to the side and the brick fire pit. String edison lights were hung from the rafters holding the roof and a fire had been laid, but wasn’t yet lit. One of the stereo systems from the clubhouse had been hung as well and the projector and screen from their movie date were back in place playing Latin dance music and showing video of some kind of festival where dancing happened in the plaza.

She went to the patio doors and smiled brightly at the set up. After putting the ice cream in the freezer, Hank joined her at the doors, wrapping his arms around her from behind and swaying gently. “Now we can dance as much as we want and no one can interrupt us,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her left temple. “And if you get tired, we have all the snacks for a movie instead.”

“This is amazing. You didn’t have to do this -” she said, leaning back into his embrace.

“Mi reina, you were disappointed that Galindo was able to pull strings like he did tonight. I promised you dinner and dancing - so that’s exactly what you’re gonna get.” He smiled and caught her left hand in his right and spun her gently all the way around. “Ready for that dance?”

Megan popped up on her toes and kissed him. “Any time.”

Hank led her out onto the patio and lit the fire pit quickly before finding the remote that controlled the music and sliding it into his jacket pocket. He changed the song to the one they’d first danced to in Mama’s backyard before offering Megan his hand in the most over the top gallant fashion he could manage. “May I have this dance?”

Megan laughed, throwing her head back until she calmed enough to take his offered hand. “Of course, good sir.”

Hank drew her close and into frame for a proper dance before taking the lead. He could definitely tell the difference this time. Megan never looked away from his face to check her feet. She just trusted his lead.

She smiled up at him as he spun her gently before catching her and lowering her into a dip. “You ready for the next step, Princessa?”

“What’s next?”

He chuckled. “Time to move. Just follow my lead.”

When the song changed, he started dancing her around the patio. It took a few minutes, but she found her footing in the movement. She glanced down to see that she was keeping beat and laughed.

Hank released her hand to guide her chin back up to meet his eyes. “Eyes on me, mi reina. You’re doing just fine.” He watched as she bit her bottom lip before meeting his gaze again. “There’s my girl.”

Megan felt heat spread through her veins and thought it must be visible on her face. The hand that Hank had on her waist slipped back to stroke the skin that was at the small of her back as she moved a little closer to him. “Hank?”

“Sí, mi princessa?”

“Kiss me?”

He smirked a bit before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips as the song swapped again. A much slower song started and he guided both of her hands up to the back of his neck asw he pulled her closer still.

Megan pouted up at him, making him laugh. “What’s wrong, mi amore?”

“That doesn’t count as a kiss.”

He pressed his forehead against hers with a cheeky smile. “Oh really? What kind of kiss were you looking for?”

“This kind.” Megan pressed herself up to kiss Hank deeply as her hands slid into his haid to pull him closer.

Hank couldn’t resist and pressed her completely against him with one hand stroking the bare back exposed by the dress that had been teasing him for hours as the other slid up to support Megan's head and neck. He let her lead the kiss as much as he could before she let out a tiny sound of pleasure that broke his carefully held control.

He gentled the kiss only enough to allow her to breathe before he backed them up to the loveseat. When he felt it at his back, he sat - pulling her to straddle his lap. For the first time, he felt like he could safely enjoy her being on top of him. He reveled in it.

Megan settled into the comfort of his wide lap with a smile. Even with the brace still on her right wrist, this was the most Hank had allowed her to do in a while. Her hands went back to his soft hair as she kissed him again.

Hank’s hands stroked the skin of her back and shoulders before one slid down her body to her bare thigh where her skirt had ridden up. He traced the bike shorts she was wearing before sliding his hand around to cup her ass through them and pull her hips tighter to his as he guided kisses across her jaw until he could nip her ear gently. “See, mi reina. Dancing at home has it’s advantages.”

Megan let out a breathy giggle as he rocked her hips into his.

He smiled against her skin before exploring further down her neck with his kisses.

Megan allowed her head to fall back as he brushed his lips along the cleavage the neckline of her dress exposed and let out a small whine when he stopped.

He chuckled as her trance was broken and she pouted at him again. He gently kissed her once more while rocking his hips up into hers. “Is this what you want, Megan?” he asked quietly. “Is it? You know you are the one calling the shots, right?” He cupped her neck with one hand and her hip with the other and waited until she met his eyes. Megan’s pupils were dilated so far that he could barely see the deep brown color that he had come to love so very much. “This is your choice.”

She smiled at him in such a way as to make his breath catch in his throat. “I know, Hank. You are always my choice.” She wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders and rocked her hips against the hard ridge in his suit pants. “I want you. All of you…”

He buried his face in her good shoulder as he pressed kisses to her skin. Once he’d calmed down enough, he smiled up at her. “Then we should take this behind locked doors.” He paused to press a kiss to her lips. “Go inside, mi reina. I’m going to put out the fire and cover the electronics and then I’ll meet you in our room.”

Megan searched his face for a moment before smiling down at him. “Alright.” She slid off his lap with the help of his guiding hands and shivered a bit when he sat forward on the love seat to kiss her stomach through her dress.

Once he was standing, he released her hand with a kiss and patted her ass to send her on her way inside. As she crossed the threshold of the patio doors, he started shutting everything down for the night. As he turned off the music, he realized that the speaker system was the outdoor ones - but they looked newer than the ones at the clubhouse. And the projector had been mounted to the rafters this time as well.

He went around the corner of the house to get the bucket of sand that Taza kept for putting out the fire pit and saw brand new boxes for the electronics broken down and ready to be burned. He laughed and shook his head. The Prospect must have told Taza what he’d been asked to do and Taza sent him shopping. Probably with Creep along to choose the right things to create a more permanent outdoor theater for the house. He shot a text off to Taza to thank him for making this easy for him, then grabbed the bucket and went to smother the fire.

Before he went back inside to unplug the lights, his phone dinged with a reply and he checked it. “Anything for her, Hermano. She alright? Why the change of plans?” it read.

Hank paused and responded - “She’s fine. I’ll explain in the morning.”

An immediate reply came through saying “Good. See you in the morning.”

Hank locked his phone as he shut and locked the patio doors. Once he’d unplugged the patio lights, he plugged his phone in next to Megan’s on the kitchen counter and turned to the hallway to meet her.

In the bedroom, Megan had taken the time to remove her makeup and wash her face. She sat at her vanity unpinning her braids as he walked in and leaned in the doorway. She was humming contentedly and he waited for her to notice him before joining her in the bedroom.

Megan’s eyes met his in the mirror and she smiled. “Thought I’d go ahead and wash my face.” She let her warrior braids fall to brush her tattooed back.

“Need some help, Princessa?” he asked, pushing off the doorframe and closing the door behind him and locking it.

She smiled up at him as he joined her at her vanity. “Of course.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Want your jewelry off?”

“Yes please. And my hair down.”

He smiled again and removed her necklaces, placing kisses beneath each clasp before undoing them. He helped to remove her earrings carefully as well before replacing her cord and silver necklace from Taza. He felt her shoulders relax as soon as it was back in its place around her throat. Lastly, he removed her new pearl bracelet and put it away in her jewelry box.

He reached for the small scissors that Taza had shown him to use to cut the bands on her smaller braids. He carefully snipped each band and threw them away before he started to unravel Megan’s hair. He watched her face relax as the tension from her heavy hair released. Once it was all unraveled, he gently massaged her scalp and watched her eyes close in bliss. Once he’d worked over her scalp well, he picked up the brush she used to detangle it and brushed it out so that it laid to her waist over her dress. “Better, mi amore?” he asked, smoothing her silky hair.

She opened her eyes to meet his with a smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

“You are so beautiful, Megan.” He bruised her hair aside to kiss her bare shoulder.

She smiled and tilted her head to give him more access to her neck as she watched him in the mirror.

Hank took advantage of the exposed skin and pressed kisses up her neck until he reached her ear. “Alright, Princessa. You’re sure?” he whispered.

“I’m sure, Hank.”

He kissed her temple before shedding his suit jacket and the button up so he was just standing there in his slacks and a white wife-beater tank with his tattoos on display in the dim lighting of the lamps. He offered Megan his hand to help her stand and when she took it, he guided her close to him. Once she was pressed to his front, he used one massive hand to tilt her chin up so he could look down into her eyes. “You tell me to stop at any time, mi reina. Anytime.” He stroked a gentle thumb across her bottom lip. “Promise me?”

Megan’s wide trusting eyes stared up at him and she blinked. “I promise.”

“Good girl.” He pulled her closer against his chest and kissed her deeply, stroking his hands over her still clothed body.

Megan’s hands explored his chest and sides as she let out the tiniest little whimper. When he paused, she whined and reached to pull his head back down to kiss him again. She ran her good hand through his ruffled hair and stood on her bare toes to reach him better.

Hank cupped her hips over her dress and lifted her until she wrapped her legs around his waist without stopping the kiss. He finally broke it to laugh a little because she was giggling. He walked them to the bed and laid her across it before peppering kisses across her face and neck.

She grinned up at him as he paused to catch his breath.

He reached to cup her face again. “I love when you smile at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re the happiest woman in the world and I did something to make you that way.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before deepening it. He slid his hand to her knee where it rested against his side and eased his touch up her leg beneath the skirt of that deep red dress. He was expecting to encounter the bike shorts again, but instead found only the smooth skin of her thigh. He buried his face in the crook of her neck with a moan. “Makeup wasn’t all you took off, mi amore, was it?”

Megan ran her casted hand gently down his back over his wife beater and stroked the back of his neck with gentle fingers. “Don’t need shorts if I’m not on the bike…”

He made another strangled sound as his hand encountered lace which made her giggle again. “You alright, Hank?” she asked.

He kept his face buried in her skin and nodded. “Gimme a minute.”

Megan relaxed beneath him where he laid on top of her, supporting his weight on the arm by her head. She marveled at how he was rock steady above her as she traced the muscles of his back.

“Princessa, that’s not helping. I’m trying real hard not to embarrass myself right now.” He picked his head up with a smile before rocking his hips gently against her.

Megan reached to stroke the line of his jaw with her good hand. “I won’t break, Hank. The sling is fully off and all that’s left is the soft cast. You won’t hurt me.”

He kissed her inner wrist and nodded. “I know, but you were so hurt for so long, mi reina. I don’t want that for you again. Especially because I lost control.” He slid to the side a little to rest on the bed beside her as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Besides - I know that this -” he gestured between the two of them. “This isn’t something that’s been your choice in a long time. I don’t want to be like him.”

Megan smiled and moved to snuggle closer to his body heat. “You aren’t him though. You’ll never be him. I’m not afraid of you and never have been.” She made solid eye contact with him. “I love you.”

Hank took a moment to scan her eyes for any hesitation, but found none so he drew her into a deep and loving kiss while guiding her hands back to his chest.

Megan could feel that he was still hesitant to push her, so she tugged at the white tank top he was still wearing before whispering - “Off.”

When Hank sat up to remove it, Megan reached to undo the side zipper on her dress. He never took his eyes off of her as she shed it carefully - revealing the white lace panties he had only felt during their make out session. Her chest was completely bare since she’d shed the sticky bra at the same time as the bike shorts. She watched his jaw tighten before reaching for him to unfasten his slacks.

As her fingers fumbled with the zipper, Hank’s hands explored the now familiar skin of her torso. He stroked her skin gently while surging forward to kiss her again with more heat in it.

As soon as the zipper released, Megan stroked the hard ridge of his cock through the cotton of his boxer briefs causing him to moan softly. He broke the kiss to slide out of his slacks and sit firmly against the headboard before offering her his hand in invitation.

She didn’t hesitate. She took the offered hand and moved to straddle him, sitting firmly over that pronounced ridge in his underwear and shivering in pleasure at the feeling.

The heat that he could feel through the two thin layers of cotton was overwhelming. He cupped the back of her neck to pull her into his kisses before trailing more over them over the soft skin of her neck and shoulder. When his kisses hit that soft spot, right below her ear, Megan couldn’t resist a small moan of satisfaction as she rocked gently in his lap giving her body some of the stimulation it craved.

With his left hand, Hank moved to cup a bare breast, gently thumbing and rolling the hard nipple as he diligently nibbled sweet spots on her neck and ears. His other hand slipped down to stroke teasingly along the top band of her panties.

Her hands alternated holding his head close to where she so desperately wanted it and stroking the muscles of his arms and abs.

When he pulled back a bit to catch his breath, Megan didn’t give him a chance for his brain to re engage and start overthinking again. Instead, she returned the favor, exploring his tattooed skin with wet kisses and nibbles. She traced the now familiar ink of his chest with her lips before nuzzling the nautical star just beneath his clavicle.

Hank reached to pull her higher on his body so he could catch her breast with his lips. She arched to offer him full access which he took advantage of - tracing around her sensitive breast with his tongue before catching a nipple to suckle - enjoying the soft noises of pleasure she let out. His fingers slipped under the final lace covering her to tease her cleft, causing her to buck into his touch with a whine. He chuckled and swapped breasts as her hand clutched at his broad shoulders for support.

It didn’t take much encouragement for him to part her folds to find her clit. As he stroked the first circle over it, Megan’s breath caught in her throat and he noticed her arms shaking trying to support her weight against him. Her cast rubbed his skin as she shifted.

He nuzzled her breasts. “Easy, mi amore. Don’t hurt yourself.” He kissed up her body to catch her lips in a deep kiss before muttering “Let me help…” against her lips.

He quickly wrapped his free arm around her back to hold her against him. Without ever losing rhythm, he flipped their positions and laid her back against the bed beneath him again.

As soon as he settled her into the covers, he paused to look at her. Her dark hair sprawled across the blankets they had chosen together. Her lips swollen from his kisses. Her breasts rising rapidly as she enjoyed his touch. That’s when it clicked for him. She really meant it. He was her choice - and he’d be damned if he didn’t worship her the way she deserved.

Megan whined as his fingers left her slit.

“Shh,” he hushed her gently, leaning to kiss her softly on the forehead. “Patience, Princessa.” He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties before guiding them down her legs as his lips trailed kisses down her small body.

Once she was completely bare beneath him, he pecked kisses up her skin again until he could kiss her lips. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered before resuming laying on his side over her to enjoy her kisses again.

When she was so involved in kissing him that she tried to roll over to press into his body, he gently pressed her back onto her back before trailing his hands along her skin again and teasing her entrance with a single finger as she whined.

“Hank, please - don’t tease me -”

He smiled down at her. “Never.” He eased a finger into her tight tunnel and she arched off the bed as his thumb found her clit again. She was so wet she was practically dripping, so he pulled out and added another finger, catching her cry of pleasure with a kiss. He eased into a rhythm with his fingers and thumb - watching her build quickly for him.

“There she is. Gonna cum for me, Preciosa?” On his next press inside her, he hooked his fingers up to rub along her top wall. He knew he’d found it when Megan cried out and her hands scrambled for purchase against his chest making him chuckle a little. He shifted his weight to catch her hands in one of his before gently, and with a mind for her brace, trapping them against him. “Come on, Princessa,” he whispered, watching her body language.

On the next thrust of his fingers, her eyes popped open to meet his and her mouth opened on a silent scream as her entire body tensed and she came for him.

Hank eased her through it as he watched her body spasm before relaxing into him panting for breath. He slowed his hand and released her arms to hook a finger under her chin an guide her into a deep and gentle kiss.

He tried to ease his fingers out of her without triggering too much oversensitivity, but she still twitched and whimpered. He hushed her gently and gathered her to his chest to let her breathing regulate.

Once she was breathing regularly again, he eased back to grin down at her a bit cockily. “Alright there, Princessa?”

Megan giggled. “Mmmhmm.”

“Good. Do you want more or do you want to stop?” he asked, smoothing her hair down her back as they lay on their sides still pressed closely together.

She tilted her chin so she could look him in the eyes. “I really want all of you…”

He smiled and moved to kiss her again. “Then you’ll get it, mi reina.” He nudged her back onto her back before reaching to tease her entrance again. “That’s my girl. Oh Princessa, you’re so wet…” He eased his fingers back inside her as she arched for him. He started slow and gentle to be sure that her oversensitivity had passed before brushing sucking kisses down her throat - focusing on a spot between her neck and left shoulder to leave a light mark beneath where the collar of a t-shirt would cover.

When her soft whimpers turned to a whine, he eased further down to kiss and tease her breasts. She arched as he stroked that spot inside her again and he sucked a nipple hard making her cry out. “That’s it- Good girl-” he breathed into her skin as he kissed further down. “Let me taste you, mi amore…” He nuzzled further down, guiding her good hand to his hair before he pressed a kiss to her hip. “Just a taste - then you can cum for me again…”

Megan whined and tugged his hair. “Hank - want you-”

He kissed her hip again, nibbling another mark into her skin. “You’ll have me - but I really want to taste you. Let me?” He looked up at her to meet her eyes - blown wide with the pleasure his fingers were giving her.

She met his eyes and bit down hard on her lip before nodding.

Hank immediately moved to swipe his tongue through her dripping slit. Broad flat licks from his pumping fingers to her clit before circling that sensitive bundle with his tongue.

Megan’s fingers tightened and clutched his hair as she cried out a writhed. When he sucked gently at her clit and crooked his fingers again, she screamed and came for him again.

This time, Hank didn’t let her come down fully. He eased up a little, but kept up the stimulation as he shed his briefs. Just as she suddenly started spasming again, he slid his fingers out and moved to sink his cock inside her.

Megan screamed again in pleasure as Hank sank halfway inside on his first thrust. Her hands moved to clutch at his back as his face buried in her good shoulder with a groan and a string of broken Spanish.

He eased back and thrust back in with a gentle roll of his hips until he was fully seated inside of her. He peppered her skin with kisses as he gave her time to adjust. When she finally relaxed beneath him, he propped himself on his elbows so he could look down into her face. “You okay, mi reina?” he panted, struggling to be still.

She nodded and tried to lift her hips - “So good. Hank - move please-” she begged through harsh breaths.

He started gentle but felt her shifting to take him deeper and adjusted his strokes until she was crying out again and digging her nails into his tattooed back.

He moaned as he felt her tightening down on him. “Good girl - gonna cum soon. Need you close-” He shifted to put more power behind his thrust and snaked a hand between them to thumb her clit again.

“Hank!”

“You close, mi amore? Gonna cum on my cock like mi reina deserves?”

She nodded frantically and tried to bite off her scream as she exploded, triggering his own release. He thrust through both of their highs before easing off until he practically collapsed on top of her. After a few breaths, he pulled her close and rolled them so she was on top as she shuddered through the aftershocks. As she relaxed, he eased out of her causing her to whimper.

“Shh. Easy, mi princessa. Rest.” He pressed kisses to her tangled hair and stroked her skin soothingly. “You are so perfect. So perfect.” He looked down as both of their breaths evened out to see her eyes closed and a content little smile on her lips. “Rest a minute - then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

After letting her relax in his arms, he gently eased out from under her - soothing sounds escaping him as she whined at him moving. He scooped her up and went in to start the shower for both of them. He helped to clean her up and combed through her hair to remove the worst of the tangles. Then he snuggled her dozing body against his beneath their blankets and drifted off to sleep with his nose burning in the crown of her head and her right back where she belonged to sleep - practically on top of him.

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