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mymoonagedaydream · 4 years

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Only the Good Die Young (Part 1)

Summary: Coming home from college for the summer, you expected your days to be spent reading in your bedroom and sitting through tense to family dinners- but an old acquaintance had something else in mind for you

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language, strong anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents, irresponsible motorcycle healthy and safety measures, smoking

Author's Note: Something a bit different, why the hell not. This story is based around lyrics from Billy Joel's 'Only the Good Die Young'. What a man.

---

'Y/n! You look… healthy.'

Those were your mother's first words as you walked through the door of your family home. Not saying how pleased she was to see you or asking how your flight was, but commenting on how you looked with her typical passive-aggressive euphemisms.

This was going to be a long summer.

Initially you were adamant about staying at your dorm, even on your own. All you wanted was peace and space. Then your parents threatened to cut you off if you didn't come home, so here you were.

You traipsed upstairs. Approaching your bedroom, you saw the bolt haphazardly screwed to the outside of the door. Your father had installed it when you were twelve, after he caught you watching ‘ungodly’ TV shows in the living room at midnight- Doctor Who.

Your room had been redecorated. It looked fucking dreadful. You glanced up at the wall and a little bit of sick shot up to the back of your mouth when you saw a ‘live, laugh, love’ sticker plastered up there.

A long, long summer.

---

Your first errand was grocery shopping. Wandering around the store, you grabbed everything on the list and headed to the checkout. Through the front window you saw billows of smoke blowing past, but you couldn’t quite see where they were coming from.

As you stepped outside, you looked over to see a pretty big group of guys in leather jackets, most of them with cigarettes on the go. They were gathered around the corner of the building, the one you had to walk past to get home. You kept your head down, gripping your grocery bags tight and passing them as quickly as possible, when you heard one of them pipe up.

'Well holy shit. Y/n?'

You turned towards the voice. James Barnes.

The two of you went to high school together but, apart from the occasional stilted conversation and reluctant group project, you’d never really developed any sort of relationship. Besides, he always hung out with people your mother didn't approve of.

And he was what, now? In a motorcycle gang? Figures.

'Hi James. Good to see you.' You mumbled, breaking stride momentarily. His friends seemed to find that funny.

'People call me Bucky now.'

Nodding feebly, you gave him a polite smile before moving off again. You noticed that your face felt warm and your stomach was involuntarily tensing. Sure, he was much more handsome and charismatic than you remembered, but you had no idea why being in his presence was making you this nervous. You heard approaching footsteps and in a second he was by your side, walking next to you.

'You moving back to town?'

'No, just visiting for the summer.'

‘Are your parents still religious nut-jobs?'

You stopped and snapped your head round, in complete shock at the brazenness of his questioning.

'I'll take that as a yes.’ Without taking his eyes off you he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placed one between his lips and lit it. ‘Guessing you won't be having much fun this summer then.'

'Probably not your kind of fun.'

He smirked and stepped towards you. ‘Man, you Catholic girls start much too late.’

‘I don’t think I asked for your opinion, James.’ It came out much softer than you anticipated, barely a mumble. Not the kind of back-off-or-else warning you were aiming for. He was really getting under your skin.

'You didn’t, but I’ll give you another.’

You raised an eyebrow, watching him blow a cloud of smoke out over your head and chuckle at your expression. Against your better judgement, you waited for him to carry on.

‘I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.' He stepped closer again, bringing his lips close to your ear, and whispered. 'Cause the sinners are much more fun.'

---

You dropped the shopping on the counter. The whole way home you hadn’t been able to get James Barnes out of your head, hadn’t been able to stop picturing his smirk or imagining his warm breath tickling your ear.

You wanted to know more about him, and if anyone had information it'd be your mother. She knew everything about everyone in this godforsaken town. Sitting down for dinner, you seized your opportunity.

'I saw James Barnes at the grocery store today.'

She abruptly dropped her knife and it hit her plate with a sharp clang, making you jump.

'You stay away from that boy.' She punctuated the words by pointing her fork at you. 'He's trouble. Him and his gang.'

You hated the way she spoke to you sometimes, like you were a child. You were in your twenties for fuck’s sake.

'He seemed nice enough.'

‘That’s how it starts.’ Your father piped up. ‘Before you know it he’s got you hooked on drugs, living in a trailer, pregnant with his deviant child.’

And that was the end of that conversation.

Being away, you’d almost forgotten how messed up your parents were. It was terrifying to think that you used to be just as bad. They had you completely brainwashed before you left for college and, even now, some of their intrusive religious dogma still lingered in your subconscious.

---

Sunday. The priest was droning on about something but you weren’t concentrating, his dull voice just sounded like a janky old extractor fan whirring behind the altar. You stood, sat, stood, kneeled, sat along with everyone else like sheep being herded, singing and praying whenever prompted. This, every Sunday for ten weeks, was going to be torture.

An hour or so into the service, you felt yourself nodding off. Your shoulders relaxed and your head felt too heavy to be held up by your neck but, just as your eyes started to close, something startled you. Startled the whole congregation. The droning from the altar stopped and heads turned towards the door, where the disturbance was coming from.

It sounded like a shuddering motorbike engine. Then another joined. In a couple of seconds the entire church was filled with an echoing cacophony of backfiring engines.

Someone at the back stood up and ran to the door. There was some shouting and laughing, but the noise eventually moved away, fading into the distance. Looking around, you saw a sea of indignant and sour faces. The tension hovering in the air was palpable.

‘And that,’ your mother hissed through clenched teeth, ‘is why you don’t go near James Barnes and his friends.’

You had to suck in your cheeks to smother your laughter, nodding insincerely at her words. James’ voice echoed in your head…

The sinners are much more fun.

---

A couple days later, one of your old friends invited you to a house party- or ‘board game night’ as you told your parents. Parties were usually a little out of your comfort zone, but you’d do anything to get out of their house for an evening.

Wandering from room to room, you checked if there was anyone else there you recognised. Nope. You skulked to the kitchen and opened a can of diet coke.

There was a hard tap on your shoulder and you turned to see James Barnes’ wide smile.

‘Hey there.’

‘Hi James.’ You muttered, taking a sip of your drink. ‘I heard your little stunt outside the church last week. You make a habit of that?’

‘Nope. Just thought it’d be nice to welcome you home.’

Interesting. That whole thing was for you? Your stomach started to flutter with excitement despite part of your brain screaming that he was probably just mocking you, flirting with you for a bet. To save any potential embarrassment, you went on the defensive.

‘Gee, thanks. Are you and your friends always that obnoxious James?’

‘Ah y’know.’ He leant against the counter, folding his arms, still grinning at you. ‘We might be laughing a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one.’

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest and doing everything you could to keep a lid on how excited his deep chuckles were making you. He bit his lip and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest.

‘And call me Bucky.’ He pushed himself off the counter, disappearing into the crowd.

Hours passed and you eventually realised that you weren’t really having a great time. Everyone around you was borderline hammered but you knew if your parents got a whiff of alcohol you’d be locked inside all summer, so you were stone-cold.

You snuck out the back door, swiftly sliding it shut. Focusing more on what was happening behind you than in front, you managed to unceremoniously trample over someone’s feet.

James, of course it was. Brilliant.

He was leant against the wall, finishing off a cigarette. Chuckling, he held out the pack to you, but you shook your head.

‘Leaving so soon?’ He grunted.

‘Yeah, not really my scene.’

‘Same here. Want to go somewhere else?’ Your heart stuttered at his question. You struggled to form a reply, gazing at him wide-eyed. He smirked and looked away. 'It’s alright, I know the deal. Your mother told you all I could give you was a reputation, right?'

You couldn’t hold back your excited smile anymore and his eyes lit up when he saw it. Shrugging faintly, your mind scurried around trying to find something witty and attractive to say. He dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it under his boot before slowly approaching you. Stopping a couple inches away, he smirked down at your dazed expression.

‘Come out with me tomorrow.’

---

You told your mother that you were having a day at the local library. You weren’t necessarily lying- you had no idea what Bucky had in mind, so anything was a possibility.

He was waiting by the monument in the town centre, like he’d said yesterday.

‘So,’ you said, prompting him to turn towards you and smile, ‘what are we doing?’

He held his elbow out and you snaked your hand through it.

‘You’ll see.’

Much to your surprise, he took you to the fair. You wandered around, hand enclosed in his, talking and laughing for hours. He bought you a hot dog and spent ages trying to win you a stuffed giraffe, but his aim wasn’t great. You couldn’t hold back your laughter after he missed for the fourth time, so he picked you up, swung you around and shouted that he was going to sell you to the carnival.

When both of you were tired and full, he walked you to the park, pulling you down next to him on a bench and wrapping his arm tight around your waist.

‘Thanks Bucky.’ You said faintly.

‘For what?’

‘Didn’t think I’d be having much fun this summer, but I had a really nice time.’

He smirked and scooched even closer to you, his firm thigh pressed against yours and his thumb gently stroking your hip. There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds before he muttered to himself.

‘It ain’t right.’

‘What?’

He sighed, brushing his chin against your hair. ‘Your parents. Catholics, man- they just built you a temple and locked you away. You’ve barely lived.’

‘It’s not all bad.’ You whispered, relaxing your head against his shoulder and angling your face up towards his.

‘Maybe.’ Adjusting himself, he turned towards you and put his free hand under your chin. ‘But that stained-glass never really lets in the sun.’

He pressed his lips against yours. Your stomach flipped. His hand moved from your chin to cradle the side of your neck and his thumb brushed softly across your cheek. He pressed towards you more firmly, sliding his tongue along your lips. He tasted like cigarettes and candy floss. Your knees tensed and your thighs started shaking. He must’ve noticed, because you felt a deep chuckle vibrating into your mouth, but that only made it worse. You melted into him, just about steadying yourself by gripping the lapels of his jacket.

He pulled away, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck, keeping a tight grip on your waist.

‘Not bad for a church girl.’

---

‘What is this?!’ Your mother burst into your room, looking horrified and holding her phone out in front of her.

You squinted at the screen, it was a photo. You and Bucky holding hands at the fair. Shit.

‘Where did you get that?’ You muttered.

‘Angela sent it to me. She saw you there, with him.’

You stood from your bed, ready to plead with her. ‘Look, he’s a nice guy, he’s-’

‘He is a criminal. And if you think you’re seeing him again, you’re wrong.’ She turned and started to storm away.

You felt anger bubbling inside, nothing like you’d ever felt before. Everything Bucky had said, his anger at your parents- he was right. You’d thought about it before, of course you had, but all you’d ever felt was a kind of defeated acceptance. Now, you were pissed.

‘I am not a fucking child.’ You screamed.

She jerked to a stop. Slowly twisting round, you saw her face was filled with venom. ‘We’ll speak again when you’re ready to apologise.’ She hissed, slamming your door behind her. You heard it lock.

Wow, that felt good. Really good. You flopped down onto your bed. Your head was spinning but you were grinning to yourself, still half in disbelief. You’d never stood up to her like that before and you were starting to regret not doing it sooner.

Your phone started buzzing- Bucky.

‘Hi.’ You sighed into it.

‘Come to the window.’

Your gaze darted to the far end of your room and you fumbled off your bed. After briefly scanning the skyline, your eyes flickered down to the backyard lawn. Bucky was standing underneath your window, holding his phone to his ear, beaming up at you.

‘Came to ask if you wanted to come out, figured I probably shouldn’t knock on the front door.’

‘So you break into the garden?’ You chuckled.

He shrugged and flung his free arm out. ‘It’s romantic.’

‘Sure is.’ You grinned down at him before remembering where you were. ‘I can’t Buck. One of my mother’s friends saw us together yesterday. I’m locked in.’

‘Man, you’re living with psychopaths.’ You nodded and gave him a disheartened smile. ‘Look, I know they’re your parents, but you really don’t owe them anything. Especially after everything they’ve done.’

His words echoed around in your head, slowly becoming more convincing as you considered them. Before you could respond, the light from the room below you switched on and Bucky was immediately illuminated with bright yellow light. Without missing a beat, he sprinted towards the fence and vaulted into next door’s garden. You heard a breathy ‘I’ll see you soon babe’ through the phone before he hung up.

Your father ran out of the back door, pretty quickly deciding not to give chase. He looked up at you with anger in his eyes but you didn’t waver. You were already locked in your room for the foreseeable future, what else could he possibly do?

---

He could force you to clean all the floors in the house on your hands and knees, apparently. Scrubbing for hours and hours with him watching over you like a hawk. Your parents had pretty swiftly gone from strict but harmless religious zealots to borderline prison wardens. As soon as he left the room, you pulled your phone out and hammered out a message to Bucky.

Will you come get me? I need out.

You stared at your screen, willing him to reply before your father came back. After what felt like ages, it finally buzzed.

On my way. Pack a bag.

You jumped up from the floor and sprinted up the stairs to your room, grabbing handfuls of whatever you could reach and shoving it into your backpack. You heard your father scurrying around on the ground floor before stomping up the stairs, shouting your name. Before he made it to your room, the faint rumble of a motorbike engine started in the distance and your heart jumped.

Running into the hallway, you pushed past your father without even looking up at him and scrambled down the stairs. You pulled the front door open and a wall of fresh air hit you, allowing you to take your first clean, deep breath of the day. Since you woke up all you’d been doing was huffing floor-cleaning chemicals.

Bucky came round the corner on his bike and you almost felt like bursting into tears. Waves of relief passed through every muscle in your body and you ran down the front steps to meet him.

You leapt on to the back of his bike, still in your pyjamas, and wrapped your arms around his waist as tight as you could. It felt like you were running entirely on adrenaline. Your parents were screaming your name behind you, but they were quickly drowned out by the roaring of the motorbike coming back to life.

‘Shit, I’m not exactly dressed for a ride.’ You mumbled into his ear through your heavy breaths. ‘Don’t even have a helmet.’

You felt him vibrate with laughter as he gunned the engine and sped away.

‘Ah, don’t worry, you’ll be fine darlin.’ He raised his arm and flipped off your parents. ‘Only the good die young.’

---

Part Two

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 4 years

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If there’s one enduring theme about tyrants in myth, literature, and history it is that, for a long time, no one takes them seriously. And there are few better examples of this than Shakespeare’s fictional Richard III. He’s a preposterous figure in many ways, an unsightly hunchback, far down the line of royal accession, socially outcast, riven with resentment, utterly dismissible — until he serially dismisses and/or murders everyone between him and the throne. What makes the play so riveting and often darkly funny is the sheer unlikelihood of the plot, the previously inconceivable ascent to the Crown of this indelibly absurd figure, as Stephen Greenblatt recently explored in his brilliant monograph, Tyrant.

I’ll never forget watching a performance by Antony Sher of Richard decades ago — playing him as a spider, instinctually scuttling on two legs and two black canes, to trap, murder, and ingest his foes. The role is, of course, a fictional portrait, designed to buttress the legitimacy of the Tudor dynasty that followed Richard III and that Shakespeare lived under. But as an analysis of the psychology of tyranny, it’s genius. Like Plato and Aristotle, Shakespeare saw this question not merely as political, but as wrapped up in the darker folds of the human soul, individual and collective.

The background of the drama is England’s “War of the Roses”, the civil war between two regional dynasties from which Richard emerged. And that’s often key in tyrant narratives: it’s when societies are already fractured into tribes, and divisions have become insurmountable, that tyrants tend to emerge, exploiting and fomenting chaos, to reign, however briefly, over the aftermath.

The war seems resolved when the victorious Edward, Richard’s older brother, succeeds to the throne: “For here I hope begins our lasting joy!” And no one thinks the deformed, bitter sibling, of all people, would be a threat. It seems preposterous. But it’s true. And at each unimaginable power grab by Richard — murdering one brother, killing the late king Edward’s young heirs, killing his own wife, and then trying to marry his niece to secure the dynasty — Richard’s peers keep telling themselves that it isn’t really happening. Greenblatt notes: “The principal weapon Richard has is the very absurdity of his ambition. No one in his right mind would suspect that he seriously aspires to the throne.”

But he has one key skill, Greenblatt notes, the ability to lie shamelessly: “‘Why, I can smile and murder whiles I smile, And cry ‘Content!’ to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.’” It’s a skill that serves him well — and there seems no limit to the number of those eager to believe him. His older brother George, Duke of Clarence, told by thugs that Richard wants him dead, exclaims: “Oh no, he loves me, and he holds me dear. Go you to him from me.” At which point the hired goons reply — “Ay, so we will” — and merrily murder him, taking him to Richard as a corpse. (In a good production, that can get a laugh.) One of Clarence’s young sons, told that his own uncle hates him, declares, “I cannot think it.” Others witness obvious depravity but can’t quite call it out. One official receives clearly illegal orders from Richard, and follows them, asking no questions: “I will not reason what is meant hereby, Because I will be guiltless from the meaning.”

Denial. Avoidance. Distraction. Willful ignorance. These are all essential to enabling a tyrant’s rise. And keeping this pattern going is Richard’s profound grasp of the power of shock. He does and says the unexpected and unthinkable in order to stun his opponents into a kind of dazed passivity. It’s this capacity to keep you on your heels, to keep disorienting you with the unacceptable (which is then somehow accepted), that marks a tyrant’s relentless drive. He does this by instinct. He craves chaos, lies, suspense, surprises — not because he’s a genius, but because stability threatens his psyche. He cannot rest. He is not in control of himself. And whenever the dust settles, as it were, he has to disturb it again.

This is what we’ve been dealing with in the figure of Donald Trump now for five years, and it is absurd to believe that a duly conducted election is going to end it. I know, I know. I’m hysterical and over-the-top and a victim of “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” Trump is simply too incompetent and too lazy to be an actual tyrant, I’m constantly scolded. He’s just baiting me again. And so on. But what I think this otherwise salient critique misses is that tyranny is not, in its essence, about the authoritarian and administrative skills required to run a country effectively for a long time. Tyrants, after all, are often terrible at this. It is rather about a mindset, as the ancient philosophers understood, with obvious political consequences. It’s a pathology. It requires no expertise in anything other than itself.

You need competence if you want to run an effective government, or plan a regular campaign, or master policy with a view to persuading people, or hold power for the sake of something else. You need competence to create and sustain something. But you do not need much competence to destroy things. You just need the will. And this is what tyrants do: they destroy things. Richard III ruled for two short years, ending in his own death in battle, and a ruined country.

This is Trump’s threat. Not the construction of a viable one-party state, but the destruction of practices, norms, civility, laws, customs and procedures that constitute liberal democracy’s non-zero-sum genius. He doesn’t need to be competent to destroy our system of government. He merely needs to be himself: an out-of-control, trust-free, malignant narcissist, with inexhaustible resources of psychic compulsion, in a pluralist system designed for the opposite. All you need is an insatiable pathological drive to avoid any constraint on your own behavior, and the demagogic genius to carry a critical mass of people with you, and our system, designed as the antidote to tyranny, is soon unspooling into incoherence, deadlock, and collapse.

I’m told he’s been ineffective even as a tyrant, so no worries. To which I can only say: really? Once you realize he doesn’t give a shit about any actual policies, apart from doing all he can to wipe the legacy of Barack Obama from planet earth, he’s been pretty competent. Note how he turned Congressional subpoenas into toilet paper; how he crippled and muzzled the Mueller inquiry; how he installed a crony at the Department of Justice to pursue his political enemies and shield him from the law; how effectively he stymied impeachment; how he cucked every previous Republican opponent; how he helped destroy the credibility of news sources that oppose him; how he filled his cabinet with acting secretaries and flunkies; how he declared fake emergencies to claim the power of the purse assigned to the Congress; and how he has reshaped the Supreme Court with potentially three new Justices, whom he sees solely as his loyal stooges if he comes up against the rule of law.

And gotten away with all of it!

In protecting his own power over others, he has been as competent as hell. Imagine where we’d be in four more years. Despite a mountain of criticism, he has not conceded a single error, withdrawn a single statement, or acknowledged a single lie. His party lost the mid-terms, but seriously, what difference did that make? His control of the Republican party, and his cult-like grip on the base, has never been greater than now. Yes, he has said and done racially polarizing things — but the joke is he may yet have more support from blacks and Latinos in 2020 than he did in 2016. Think of his greatest policy failures: the appalling loss of life in the Covid epidemic and the collapse of law and order in the cities. Now recall that on February 1 of this year, Trump was at 43.4 percent approval; 200,000 deaths later, and the wreckage from Seattle to Portland to Minneapolis, and his approval today is at 43.1 percent.

This is, of course, not enough to win re-election. And Trump has no interest in broadening his appeal, because it would dilute the tribalism he feeds off. So he has made it abundantly clear that if the results of the election show him the loser, he will not accept them. Simple, really. He said this in 2016, of course, refusing to honor the result in advance. But this year, he has stumbled upon something quite marvelous for his purposes. Because of Covid19, it is likely that mail-in ballots will be far higher in number than before, and, as Barton Gellman has shown in this essential new piece, this gives Trump an opportunity he has instinctively seized. He has been saying for months now that: “MAIL-IN VOTING WILL LEAD TO MASSIVE FRAUD AND ABUSE … WE CAN NEVER LET THIS TRAGEDY BEFALL OUR GREAT NATION.” In late summer, Gellman noted, Trump was making this argument four times a day: “Very dangerous for our country.” “A catastrophe.” “The greatest rigged election in history.” He is telling us loud and clear that, if he has anything to do with it, this election will not be decided at the ballot box, but at the Supreme Court, which he expects to control.

If you haven’t, read Gellman’s piece closely. It seems inevitable to me that, unless it’s a Biden landslide, Trump will declare himself the winner on election night, regardless of the actual results. Because most mail-in ballots will take more time to count, and several swing states have not changed their laws to allow for counting before election day, and mail-ins are easily challenged, it is quite likely that much of Biden’s vote will remain uncounted or contested — and could remain so for a long time. And after declaring victory within hours of polls closing, Trump will follow the script he used for Florida in 2018: “The Florida Election should be called in favor of Rick Scott and Ron DeSantis in that large numbers of new ballots showed up out of nowhere, and many ballots are missing or forged,” he tweeted, making shit up as usual. “An honest vote count is no longer possible — ballots massively infected. Must go with Election Night!”

I’ve no doubt this bullshit will be challenged by the networks, the press, and many of the states, and other sane people, who will urge patience. I’ve also no doubt that many states will do their best not to pervert the process. But I fear the result will be close (I’m underwhelmed by Biden’s near-invisible campaign), which will give Trump a chance. The fanaticism and alternate reality of a base already addicted to conspiracy theories means a hefty chunk of the country will back him. And it’s perfectly possible that Trump’s pre-emptive strike on the election result could prompt a massive revolt across the country from those who want to defend our democracy. (I will be marching in such a scenario myself). Most presidents would balk at anything close to this kind of scenario. Trump can’t wait. Violence? You can almost feel Trump’s hankering for it.

All he wants is chaos, because in chaos, the strong leader wins. Would he incite violence on his behalf if the votes seem to be drifting away from him? You bet he would. Would he urge his supporters to physically prevent ballot-counting? He already has. Would he try to corral Republican state legislators to back him in electing electors? Gellman has sources. Would he take this country to the brink of civil conflict? Way past it. Will anyone in the GOP do anything to stop him? We know the answer to that already. If they cannot condemn him this week, when would they? And he will do all this not out of some strategic calculation or tactical skill but because he cannot do anything else. He is psychologically incapable of conceding anything. And he has no understanding of collateral damage because his narcissism precludes it.

In every Shakespeare play about tyranny — from Richard III to Coriolanus to Macbeth — the tyrant loses in the end, and often quite quickly. They’re not that competent at governing, or even interested in it. The forces they unleash come back to wipe them from the stage, sooner or later. They flame out. Richard III lasted a mere couple of years on the throne.

But in every case, they leave a wrecked and reeling society in their wake. Look around you now and see the damage already done. Now imagine what we face in the next few months. We are tethered to Trump at this point because he is the legitimate president: the man who cannot control himself is in control of all the rest of us. And that’s why I desperately want to appeal to right-of-center readers at this point in the campaign to do everything they can to vote and to vote for Biden. This is not about left or right. This is about the integrity of a system that can give us such a choice. It really is an existential moment for liberal democracy, and its future, not just here but across the world. The next few months are critical.

It fills me with inexpressible rage that we have been brought to this. But there is no way out now other than through. This was always going to be the moment of maximal danger. And we cannot lose our focus now.

#The Weekly Dish #Andrew Sullivan #Shakespeare #election 2020 #tyranny #corrupt #chaos #2020 #political

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mentalmimosa · 5 years

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sway me close, sway me now (part iv)

Previous installments here: [archiveofourown.org/works/18961441/chapters/45020587]

“How did you know that I’ve been hard up?” Steve stared at him, a fierce sort of sloshed. “Did you look at my bank records or something? I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

Tony blinked. Ok, not where he’d thought the guy was going. But there was the temper Bucky had told him about, that Tony had had a hard time squaring with the sketch of the man on paper, with the gentle giant who had stammered in the dining room doorway. He’d been curious, though, so he’d gone after the kid’s goat, and oh, yeah: a couple of solid poke and oh, there it was.

He kept his voice nonchalant. “I had a PI look in to you before he gave you a call. Purely a safety precaution; Rhodey was pretty insistent. I’m sure you can understand why.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to blink. “A PI? You...you had me investigated?"

“Yes, I did. And if the way you’ve demolished every dish that’s been put in front of you this evening is any indication, then my sources were correct.”

That got him another glare. He was beginning to like that look. “Maybe I just didn’t eat breakfast.”

“Or supper yesterday. Or lunch the day before. But the, I'd imagine that's hard to do when you give a solid half of your paycheck every week to someone else. Or lots of someone else’s, I suppose.” Steve looked confused; maybe that was the wine. Never mind. Tony seized the advantage. “You have a bad habit of looking after other people first and yourself second, Steve. That was my big takeaway from the PI’s report.”

“You’re supposed to take care of people,” Steve said stubbornly. “That’s why they call it the golden rule, isn't it? Treat others as you want to be treated."

Tony spread his hands. “Sure, yeah. But not to the point where you put yourself half a step from the poorhouse. Then you can’t help anybody, can you? If you’re destitute yourself. There’s a fine line between charity and martyrdom, kid.”

Steve’s jaw was set. “Is that what this is to you, Mr. Stark? Is that why you asked me to come here, as some kind of charity chase?”

Ah, Tony thought, a rose moment of revelation. I’ve hurt his pride, haven’t I? Well. We can’t have that.

He sat back and reached for his wine, let the tension simmer, linger, play out like a light show all over Steve’s pretty face. “I asked you to come here,” he said at last, “because you’re a good man, Steve Rogers. Dare I say an honorable one. And yeah, you need the money, I get that, but once you have it”-- if, the negotiator part of his brain said; just because he’s gorgeous when he’s angry doesn’t mean you should give the damn store away--“you’ll make the most of it. For yourself, I hope, but for lots of others too, I suspect. And that means a great deal to me. My mother was like that; I think that’s part of the reason. Selfless without a second thought.”

“And you’re not, are you.” It wasn’t really a question.

Tony’s heart was pounding in his ears. God, the way Steve was looking at him, still pointed even as the kid’s anger faded. He’d been wrong before; the man before him was no waif. He might have the face of an angel, but somewhere inside, there was steel, and shit, Tony marvelled, biting back a chuckle, “what he wouldn’t give to see that steel melt.

“Me, selfless?” he said. “No. But I do enjoy looking after people, sometimes, when I’m in the right frame of mind. And I think I could do that for you.”

“How?”

Oh, my, Tony thought. He felt dizzy. There were too many answers to that question, too many that ended with and your cock in my mouth. He wondered if Steve would stay that same shade of indignant pink when he was close, or if his face would find a whole new kind of red. Would it stay red as Steve came down, as Tony pushed him to knees? Would Steve look him in the eye as Tony rubbed his cock against his lips, or he’d have to be told with a sharp voice and a tug on that neat, golden hair? Would he--?

Tony cleared his throat. “With more suits like that one, for one thing. Some new shoes, some new paints. I can have a room set up for you to use as a studio, if you’d like. Did you bring your sketchbooks with you?”

“Of course. They go everywhere I do.”

“Well, there, you see?” His fingers flexed over his lighter, messed with the cream tablecloth. “And I can introduce you to folks I know who are big into the arts. Who knows? You might find yourself a patron while you’re here. Make enough money to make me look like a piker.”

Fuck, he thought, why the hell was he trying to sell the kid on the job? he wondered. It was a good deal already, that much dough for a few public smooches, some grand dinners out on the town. A shredding of Steve’s reputation, maybe, but he didn’t really have one to begin with, did he? He wouldn’t feel the loss of something he’d never had.

But he would, Tony thought, feeling his own face redden beneath his beard. Now that he’d seen Steve Rogers, crossed swords with him, hell--nobody else would do in this crazy scheme of his, would they? He wanted Steve. Maybe even coveted him, a little. And if he had to sell the kid on what was already the opportunity of a lifetime, so be it. Nobody else would fucking do.

Steve was blinking at him now, like a man who’d just moved from the dark to the light. “You’d do that?”

“I’d be happy to.”

A little smile. “But you don’t know if I’m any good.”

“Not yet, no. But I have a feeling you’ll show me, don’t you?”

It didn’t come out quite right. It also didn’t sound completely wrong. And was Tony dreaming or was it the wine talking, the bourbon beforehand: was there a new kind of heat in Steve’s gorgeous face?

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I do.” His mouth lifted. “Does this mean I got the job?”

“Eh,” Tony said, because what the hell. It had always been his way to push his luck; he’d survived a crash, a Depression, and a world war that way. Why would this be any different? “There’s one more test I have to run, actually.”

Steve’s smile dipped. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Tony’s blood was an ocean in his ears. He felt incredibly foolish. He felt like the universe, for whatever moody reason, had for the first time in a long time, handed him a gift.

So he let go of his lighter and what remained of his sense and leaned forward and cupped the hot curve of Steve’s jaw, and oh, sweet Lord: the shock on Steve’s face was worth the price of tonight alone. “Come here,” Tony said softly, a feather on bone china. “Come right here, kid, and kiss me.”

#stony #1950s au #silver fox tony #fake relationship

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onlylovekpop · 7 years

Text

Rush | Lee Joo Heon | One-Shot

jooheon (monstax) + you (reader) word count: 10,022 warnings: oh geez where to begin there is a lot of sex in this thing and includes overstimulation, choking, dirty and derogatory talk, oral sex, public sex, rough sex, etc., there is also a healthy dose of bad language and some mentions of violence but it’s only in reference to gang affiliation there is no violence between jooheon and the oc a/n: yeah yeah this is the sequel to Rhythm you can probably get away with reading this if you didn’t read the first installment but the relationship between jooheon and the oc will make more sense if you read it anyway i have conveniently linked it for you now enjoy, my fellow sinners

It had been months since the proverbial lion and lamb fell into bed together. She swore to never return to that bastard who had driven her into my arms, but more importantly, she promised to keep coming back to me.

I had never been in an affair like this one and everyone seemed to notice my little changes. The biggest being the happier side she brought out in me.

For one, our roles had reversed somewhat. She came to me, took pleasure from my body, and then left. I had spent many years using women as I pleased and now I was experiencing what it was like. Not that I complained, but I did start to yearn for more.

At first, she was reluctant, reminding me we had a relationship solely built on physical attraction. I countered that through our physical attraction, we spent a lot of intimate time together and were becoming emotional attached. She wasn’t keen on admitting anything, but she did smile.

From texting only when one of us wanted a fix of the other, now we both texted all day long while we worked and on the nights we slept in our own beds, we fell asleep on the phone together.

I was the first to break the invisible wall between us by asking her out on a date. For a moment, I honestly thought she would turn me down, but she didn’t. After another month full of dates, I asked if we could become exclusive and she replied that she had been under the assumption that we already were.

And that made me ridiculously happy.

My new favorite thing in life is waking up in the morning with her in my arms. I had long forgotten how comforting it was to fall asleep in the embrace of the person you love.

I’ll be the first to admit that a certain thought crossed my mind. I wondered if our relationship would turn stale or mundane. Would domestic life turn things boring? Was there a chance the fire that brought us together could die out?

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“This is what happens,” I growled roughly, grabbing her by the waist and shoving her toward the vanity. She braced her hands on the cold marble and caught herself, barely having enough time to look at the reflection in the mirror of me crowding behind her.

“I…” she stuttered, letting out a whimper as I clutched her dress and pulled upward until the material gathered above her hips.

With her lace-covered ass out in the open, I gave her a hard slap, chastising, “You keep teasing me and think because of where we are, I won’t do anything about it.”

She shook her head with a smug laugh and crooned, “I know you’ll always do something about it, baby.”

“I fuck you too good, sweetheart,” I teased, pulling the panties down her legs and leaving them slung around her ankles.

“So good,” she echoed, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

“You can’t control yourself anymore,” I added, finally swatting her bare behind now that the lace was out of the way.

She squeaked and rocked forward, giggling with delight. I seized the opportunity to take hold of her waist and push her farther on to the counter to the point her toes were barely touching the floor. Kicking her feet apart, I went to work on my pants.

“Say you don’t want it,” I growled, pulling my hard dick free and giving it a few strokes.

She smiled at me in the mirror and sang, “Oh, I want it.”

Grabbing her hair, I yanked her head back and tongued my way across her earlobe before whispering, “Tell me you don’t want it, whore.”

“I fucking want it,” she cried out. “It’s all I want.”

“Fuck, you make me so hard, bitch,” I chuckled, guiding myself into her glistening entrance.

Her lips parted and her hands shot to the edges of the counter, gripping tightly as I sank my length slowly into her.

“Relax that tight, pretty cunt,” I hissed by her ear in my most commanding tone. “Let me in.”

Little noises were my answer. Her head was down, hair falling in all directions, and I couldn’t see her face as I focused on working my way inside her. From gentle thrusts to firmly rutting my cock back and forth, I felt her open up and smirked at the sound of her wet pussy squelching around me.

Satisfied I could finally sheath myself to the hilt, I snatched her hair and forced her head up to watch her face as I did just that. Her eyes rolled and her mouth gaped open, but not a sound escaped. Much to my disappointment.

“Someone is quiet,” I whined, pumping my length a little faster.

“God, how is it so good?” she groaned.

I snickered. “Are you calling me god?”

She grinned. “I will call you whatever you want if you go faster.”

“I’ll fuck you however I want,” I hissed, smacking my hips into her ass at a steady pace. Crossing my arm between her breasts and wrapping my fingers around her throat, I added darkly, “What are you going to do about it?”

She responded by throwing her hips back against me as best she could in her current position. Chuckling with pride, I pressed an affectionate kiss to her neck before picking up speed between her legs.

By the time someone came knocking on the bathroom door to use the facilities, I was pulling up my pants and watching my partner carefully. She sat on the counter, facing me as she leaned back in the corner of the wall, breathing heavily with her eyes closed. I particularly loved the way she looked after I fucked her out.

“You alright over there?” I asked playfully, grabbing her panties and sliding them up her legs.

Her eyes finally opened, narrowing on me with feigned annoyance, and she sighed, “How am I supposed to concentrate for the rest of the night when I’m this sore?”

“You brought this on yourself, little lamb,” I teased, licking my lips as she raked her hands through her disheveled hair. “Don’t you remember begging?”

“I plead the fifth on that,” she retorted, flashing me a smile and sidling down from the counter. I was quick to envelop her in my arms, welcoming her gentle kisses and stroking her back with my hands.

It was hard, but I finally managed to release her to give her a chance to get cleaned up.

“I just smile and nod, right? I’m here to look pretty,” she droned a moment later, adjusting her dress in the mirror.

I stepped behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and peppering feather-light kisses up the side of her neck. “You’re here,” I whispered, annoyed at the way she debased herself. “To do whatever the fuck you want.”

She smiled with satisfaction and turned to face me, pressing her lips to mine before fixing my tie.

“There’s a lot of powerful men in that room. I trust you can handle yourself,” I added, wiggling my eyebrows.

She snorted and replied, “I think I have plenty of practice with powerful men, Jooheon.”

“Mm, I love letting you practice on me,” I growled, stealing another kiss before giving her ass a few pats. “Let’s get going.”

We stepped out of the washroom and I held up my arm. She hooked her elbow through mine and let me escort her to our table.

I hated functions like these, but it was necessary that I maintained any and all pretenses. I funneled my less than legal money through perfectly legitimate businesses. I was an ample tax payer and a staple in my community. Though plenty of my colleagues had a sneaking suspicion of the true nature of my business, they never challenged me. Even the likes of them knew better.

Approaching our seat, I greeted the other guests, all of whom I was on a first name basis with when it came to dealings outside of the law.

“This is my date… Victoria,” I announced, turning to my little lamb as mirrored smirks passed between us.

Of course, that wasn’t her real name. Only I was privy to that information. Victoria was one of our first established safe words. Anytime we used it at this boring party, I was assured we would both be sharing dirty thoughts.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she purred, donning her charms like she had done this a million times.

I pulled the chair out for her before taking mine at her side.

“Jooheon, you don’t usually bring dates to these functions,” said the chief executive of one of the largest digital security firms in the country. He took long, voracious glances at my girl.

I shrugged and quipped, “What can I say? It’s not very often I find a woman so beautiful I just have to rub her in your faces.”

My date snickered and the sound definitely registered in my pants.

As dinner began, I found myself actually happy. It was a rare enough thing - me not being miserable out of my fucking mind. Most of these men made small talk that involved metaphorical dick measuring. Whoever had the most resources under their belt and definitely the most funds was typically the winner. But this time around, my girl made these assholes actually back up their shit.

She was an intelligent thing and she worked in the high octane world that they did. Any numbers they tossed around, she wasn’t impressed. While I thought they would be insulted, the bastards seemed to enjoy her even more.

“Anyone worth their salt knows doing business there is a shit storm,” she said, engaging with one of the top businessmen in our city. “I’ve never seen a market so easily manipulated. Except for your home country, of course.”

“And what would you recommend I do to fix the discrepancy?” asked the man, watching her like a hawk.

“You go for a country that’s more honest,” she replied. “Snatch their pants right off. They won’t even notice and the idiots will probably thank you when you pull out.”

“There’s a dirty joke in there I’m going to keep to myself,” I whispered in her ear.

She elbowed me gently and fought a smile, but failed.

“That’s a risky tactic,” continued the businessman.

“If you don’t like risks, you don’t belong in this market,” she retorted, sipping a glass of champagne. “If you can’t handle the heat, get the fuck out of the kitchen.”

The man practically grinned. I imagined he was undressing her with his eyes and I resisted the urge to inform him this beautiful, feisty girl was still sore and aching from having my hard dick in her.

Once the conversation had ended, I brought my arm to rest over the back of her chair, allowing my fingertips to trace up and down her bare arm. Leaning in close, I whispered, “Maybe I should hire you to run my fuckery.”

She sipped her wine and mumbled skeptically, “Mm, how’s the pay?”

“I’ll pay you in money and orgasms,” I joked.

She snorted and murmured, “But I already get that dick for free.”

I angled toward her and my tone shifted. “You know what, I’m serious. How about this, baby? Six figures up front, sign on bonus. Transportation and housing included.”

“Jesus, Jooheon,” she choked, eyes wide. “Are you really offering me this?”

“You already run that shit hole down the road and they don’t pay you near what you’re worth and for what you do for them. Probably because you don’t own a set of balls. Me, on the other hand, I know what you’re worth.”

“Would I do anything illegal?” she whispered almost inaudibly.

“No, not at all,” I soothed, a sour taste taking root in my mouth at the thought. “You would run my legitimate businesses. Any laundering is done by my nerds and accountants. Your hands would always be clean. I would never let those beautiful hands get dirty.”

She smiled, licking her lips like I had just presented her with the biggest meal of her life. “Draft something up and I’ll sign first thing tomorrow. I can quit that place in no time,” she said with a grin.

“Good. I’m thrilled to have someone competent and trustworthy running this game for me. One less thing for me to worry about,” I told her sincerely, holding out my hand for her to shake.

She took it and pulled me forward, settling her lips on my ear and whispering, “Just know, I’m gonna fuck your brains out when we get home.”

“Mm, looks like I get a sign-on bonus.”

She leaned in and took a gentle, affectionate kiss, staring at my lips as if she were resisting the urge to devour me whole.

Interrupting our moment, the tech executive spoke up, “Oh, Jooheon, I have been meaning to consult with you on the warehouse job in Yongsan.”

“Baby, leave us for a moment,” I ordered quietly, hiding my annoyance.

“Yes, Daddy,” she smarted, coy and mischievous in a fucking powerful combination.

I narrowed my eyes at her, watching her sternly as she slowly rose from her seat and intentionally brushed her hand over my shoulders as she sauntered away.

She found Wonho near the wall, ambling to his side. I had given her strict instructions that anytime I needed her out of earshot to whatever illegal business I could be discussing, she was to find Wonho and stay with him. He was my personal bodyguard and chief of security. If I couldn’t keep a watchful eye on her, I trusted he could.

We were in a room with some of the most influential and dangerous men our country offered. I counted myself one of them, of course.

“Top secret chit chat?” Wonho questioned.

“Mm-hm,” she affirmed.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself out there,” Wonho commented, eyes fixated on his boss.

She shrugged and muttered, “Jooheon made me an offer I can’t refuse.”

Wonho perked at that and asked, “Please tell me he finally hired you.”

“What?” she squeaked. “How did you know?”

“He’s been thinking about it for a while. Says you’re the top of your field and you deserve to be paid as such. Plus, he’s really struggling to find someone he can trust to handle all of his businesses.”

She blinked. “Sounds like a lot of legitimate work.”

“Yeah, everyone who has tried it eventually quit. They weren’t smart or strong enough. We have faith in you.”

“We?”

Wonho gleamed and replied, “Me and his accountants.”

She chuckled. “I don’t know, though. I’ve never been the type to fuck my boss.”

With a shrug, Wonho comforted, “You’re valuable to him. Even if things went south in your relationship, if you can run this town like he does, he’ll keep you forever.”

“Job security, that’s a plus,” she smarted.

His eyes were serious when he asked, “Are you gonna do it?”

There was a pause, but inevitably she smiled and said, “Yeah, I’m gonna do it.”

“Hallelujah. I have to text Kihyun,” Wonho declared, pulling out his phone. “He’ll buy you a couple of fruit baskets.”

She grinned.

With my conversation finished, I rose from my chair to rejoin my girl. Unfortunately, I only made it a few steps before an unwanted visitor slid into my path.

Affording him a quick glance, I huffed, “Jackson.”

“Jooheon,” replied the wannabe gangster. Jackson fancied himself a jack of all trades type, though he wasn’t particularly good at any of them, in my opinion. His most recent romp involved being a liaison for one of my biggest rivals.

As I said nothing, expecting Jackson would take the hint and move on, he flashed me a smile and began, “My boss is not very happy with you.”

I rolled my eyes and pretended to be distraught. “That breaks my heart.”

Jackson reminded, as if I didn’t know, “You cut him out of the deal.”

“There was no need for an additional third party in that trade. You know that. So does he,” I replied, exhaling as I spoke to indicate my irritation and boredom with this line of questioning.

“It was an insult to him.”

I bobbed my head. “I’m sure he will survive.”

“Don’t make an enemy out of him, Jooheon,” murmured Jackson, sounding almost concerned. “You don’t want another enemy in this business.”

“Give that message back to your boss, as well. Is his pride more important than poking a sleeping giant?” I warned, stepping forward to leave his company.

To my surprise, Jackson sidestepped to bar my path yet again and sang, “She is a beautiful girl, your Victoria.”

I followed his line of sight, noting he was staring dreamily at my date as she stood by Wonho. Trying to hide my anger, I replied, “Yes, she is.”

“Smart, too.”

“Mm-hm,” I hummed, imagining the commotion that would follow if I shoved this son of a bitch into the future.

Jackson flickered his eyes from her back to me and said, “First in her class at Seoul National University. Graduate degrees in business administration. Running an entire division at that conglomerate with its own skyscraper.”

My pulse picked up speed, the way it always did when I recognized danger. “What are you doing?” I asked sternly.

“Don’t get upset, Heoney Boo Boo,” Jackson crooned, patting my arm.

I inched closer, crowding into his space and leering over him. In a low growl, I asked, “Are you threatening my girl?”

Jackson shrugged, noncommittal. “My boss wanted to know more about her. That’s all.”

Wonho and his speed were never to be underestimated, because he suddenly appeared at my side and quietly asked, “Is there a problem here, boss?”

Though I knew with Wonho by me, Shownu would naturally assume the position of protecting ‘Victoria’, Wonho was my best and I wanted him shielding my baby. “No, not at all,” I sang with a forced smile. Then my tone changed and I ordered, “Go keep an eye on my bitch, please. Someone might try to steal her.”

Wonho glanced at Jackson angrily before bowing his head to me and replying, “Got it.”

Jackson was unfazed and he began, “Look, Jooheon. All I’m saying is…”

I advanced, shoving my chest into his and knocking him a step back. “You listen to me, you fucking asshat. If you so much as breathe in her direction, I swear - they will never find what’s left of you.”

Jackson grinned, getting exactly what he wanted. After a pause, he whispered, “And you call her the bitch.”

I watched him turn on his heels and saunter away. For a moment, I merely stood and let my brain process what was at stake. My time spent in her arms had made me forget the perilous world in which I lived. Angry, I stomped back to my seat and downed a fresh glass of champagne. Then I turned and waved her back to me.

She approached, opening her mouth to tease or taunt as usual, but I interrupted, “Sit your fine ass down.”

Snickering, she raked her nails through my hair once and asked, “Or… what?”

I gave her a tone I had never used in her presence before when I warned, “Or I’ll make sure you don’t sit for a week.”

The playfulness on her face vanished and she ever so slowly lowered to the chair at my side, eyes fixated on me all the while. “What’s wrong, Jooheon?” she asked under her breath.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I told her, “I’ve brought too much attention to you.”

She tilted her head and rolled her eyes. “I can handle myself.”

“No, not the kind of attention you’re familiar with,” I corrected.

Undaunted, she pressed, “Explain it to me then.”

“A rival. We keep doing this little dance of being friends then enemies. Bottom line - there will always be competition.”

“And I’ve caught his attention?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I can’t let him think he can use you against me in any shape or form.”

She exhaled pensively. “Alright then.”

In a flash, she stood, grabbing her glass of champagne and throwing it in my face.

At the top of her lungs, she shouted, “You bastard, don’t ever call me again! I never want to see your goddamn face for as long as I live!”

Wiping a hand down my features, I wanted so badly to laugh. “Subtle,” I managed to huff under my breath.

She pretended to be furious, even making her hands shake as she fumbled for her purse, and all eyes in the room were on her as she stomped toward the door. I wanted to grin at the shocked look Jackson was sporting.

Nearing Wonho as he stood posted at the exit, she called quietly, “Give me the keys.”

A smirking Wonho didn’t hesitate to let her secretly swipe the keys from his hand as she brushed past him.

Grabbing one of the dinner cloths, I patted down my face and excused myself from my company to retreat to the bathroom. Wonho followed me like a shadow and could barely hide his amused smile.

“I had no idea she was this extra,” I quipped, loosening my soaked tie and folding my suit jacket over my arm.

Wonho told me, “Shownu is with her. He just texted me and says she’s being very gentle with your cat.”

That was when I remembered the car I had driven to this event and I tipped my head back with a whine. “That woman is driving my precious Jaguar,” I groaned, rubbing my brow. Suddenly, my phone buzzed and I read a text: I’m going back to the hotel. Knock twice, Daddy.

Wonho said, “Looks like you’re riding in the SUV, boss. Where are we headed?”

“I need you to drop me off at the Grand. Back entrance.”

While my guard drove, I propped my elbow on the window of the passenger side and leaned my head against my hand. My fingers rubbed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose as an ache festered in my head from pensive thought.

Jackson had inadvertently brought me back to reality. I was reminded why I didn’t get close to anyone, why I had used women for my own self-gratifying use and then tossed them away.

In this business, our women were known to be our weak spots. I had heard horror stories and understood why most of the men in similar positions to mine never held a partner for more than one occasion.

But she had ruined me. I was an addict now and she was my only fix, no matter how much it killed me. I tried to imagine life without her. As the lights of the city flashed across my face, I thought about what would happen if I drove her away.

She wouldn’t believe me. I had confessed how she made me feel too many times after emptying my balls in her and even times I hadn’t. She knew I was wrapped around her fingers.

“I fucked up, brother,” I murmured to the man at my side.

Wonho sighed. “No, boss. I don’t think so.”

“You can protect her, every minute of every day?”

“I think you’ve made enough of a name for yourself that no man would dare try something like that,” Wonho explained, entirely serious. “Any ally or enemy knows not to cross you.”

I was quick to ask, “But what if they realize she can break me?”

“That’s what they fear, boss,” Wonho replied, calm as ever. “They like the sleeping giant. It roars occasionally, but no one wants it awake.”

I laughed at that, comforted somewhat.

After standing at the threshold for longer than I would care to admit, I tapped my knuckles on the door twice as instructed and it opened in an instant. My girl stood there, still in her gown from the evening, and her face was filled with worry.

“What do we do, Jooheon?” she asked shakily.

“Leave it to me,” I told her, shutting the door and locking it securely. As I approached her, I held up my hand and turned my finger. She didn’t hesitate to pivot and put her back to me.

“How did you know?” she snickered, toying with her curls nervously.

I scoffed. “That you’ve been fighting with this zipper for the past few minutes? I could tell from the way you had your hair to one side.”

Drawing the zipper of her dress down her back, I moved away toward the minibar when I’d finished and her eyes followed me with confusion.

“You stopped?” she questioned.

I poured myself a small glass of the expensive scotch and downed a mouthful, leaning back against the wall and studying her like there was another mystery I had to solve.

“Mm,” was all I said.

Bemused and slightly irritated, she pulled the dress free from her shoulders and let it fall in a pile around her ankles. “I can’t remember the last time I undressed myself,” she growled under her breath, striding to the nearby sofa and slowly lowering to her seat.

My eyes raked over her. She was wearing the black lace lingerie set I had bought her. I started thinking about the day she went to the boutique and picked it out, trying it on in the dressing room and texting me photos in the ensemble. I was in the middle of a fatally boring meeting and the pictures undoubtedly saved me from smashing my head into the table to get a break from the droning and whining.

“Jooheon,” she called impatiently, slouching on the couch and crossing her legs.

“This might be it for us, baby,” I finally murmured, sipping my drink to seal my words.

She tilted her head, brow furrowing, and I could tell she didn’t believe me. “Will you tell me what has spooked you?” she asked a moment later.

Her voice was so tender, so unbelievably emotional toward me and in that moment, I convinced myself I didn’t deserve it. I certainly didn’t deserve her.

Moving to her side, I sat down and took her hands in my own, staring at her fingers and thinking of the many times I had kissed my way across her knuckles.

“You’re good,” I whispered. “You are honestly too good for this world and I’ve tainted you. I’ve taken you where you do not belong.”

“I belong with you, Jooheon,” she replied, no sign of hesitation. “You and I both know that.”

I shook my head. “You don’t belong in my underworld, darling. You won’t be the same person if you stay.”

“I haven’t been the same person since that night you let me ride you,” she insisted, staring at my face despite my eyes being fixated on her soft hands. “I’m stronger now. Ever since I met you, you’ve made me braver. I stick up for myself. I speak out more. You gave me that, Jooheon.”

My eyes burned and my first instinct was to escape. The moment I braced my hands on my thighs to stand, she grabbed me, shoving me into the couch none too gently.

“Where are you going, baby?” she asked teasingly. “Are you trying to run away from me?”

“Don’t do this,” I muttered, attempting to be threatening and failing miserably.

“Are those tears in your eyes, Jooheon?” she taunted further, cupping my face and holding me steady.

Exerting a little strength, I lifted to a sitting position and grabbed her wrists, yanking her forward until we were chest to chest. Our lips brushed and she held her breath as she waited for me to kiss her.

“Don’t test me,” I breathed, almost inaudibly.

She smiled, relieved to see my dominant side coming to the surface since she had been blatantly provoking it. With a nod of compliance from her, I released her wrists and let her sink back on to the couch at my side.

A moment of tense silence passed between us as I sighed and tipped my head back, closing my eyes as I thought about what I needed to do, how I could make this work. I could feel her gaze dutifully on me, giving me the time I needed, but eventually, her patience wore out.

“Play with me,” she purred, kissing at my neck and sliding her hand to the front of my pants.

I growled her name in a warning, but she barely flinched.

Tonguing at my throat, she echoed, “Play with me.”

In a flash, I turned and grabbed her by the face, forcing her to stare into my eyes. “I won’t let anyone take you from me,” I whispered, visibly shaking with mixed wrath and fear.

“No one will, Jooheon,” she coaxed, stroking my chest with her palm. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“The only way we will ever be parted is if you get up and walk away. I’ll respect if you choose to leave me, but no one will ever take you,” I insisted, then immediately, I looked away, ashamed that I had fallen to such a vulnerable state. I was supposed to be the rock in this relationship; the one she could always count on.

“Jooheon,” she called, snatching me back to her and holding me in her arms. For a moment, we merely studied one another, lips touching.

It was a bemusing feeling - this fire coursing through me. I was physically, mentally, and emotionally ready to do whatever I had to do to guard her. It had been a long enough time since I felt protective over something - or someone. Now, I understood perfectly why men went to war over women.

Suddenly, she tightened her grip on my head and whispered, “Where are you, baby? Come back to me.”

“I’m here,” I murmured, falling out of my thoughts at the silky beckoning of her voice.

“Play with me,” she echoed, gaze falling to my lips.

I exhaled, feigning annoyance, and whined, “Is that all you can think about?”

“You get your power from being in control, from having all control,” she told me, moving to straddle my lap. “You have total control over me, Jooheon.”

Gazing up at her as she raked her fingers through my hair, I asked, “Yeah? And where do you get your power, little lamb?”

“I’m the one you run to,” she replied, kissing my neck with delicate finesse. “I’m the one you crave. I get my power from being the person that makes you forget everything else in this goddamn world, but me.”

I shivered at that and I inevitably thought about drowning in her heat. She wasn’t wrong. When I was with her, I forgot about everything. My stress, my worry, my anger, my depression - it all melted away.

Damn it, she made me whole.

“Mm,” I finally hummed in agreement.

She tightened her fist in my hair, tugging harshly until I hissed through gritted teeth. “So play with me,” she growled and this time, I knew better than to deny her any longer.

With a smile, I gripped her thighs and pushed her off of my lap, fiddling at my belt the moment she was in the clear. Realization crossed her face and she licked her lips.

“Why don’t you play with me instead?” I asked her sheepishly.

She nodded rapidly. Shit, I had never met a woman so excited to have my dick down her throat.

“Lay down,” I ordered sternly, pulling my cock free from my pants and stroking it in my fist.

Resting on her stomach, she draped her arms over my lap and took my length into her own hands. I was quick to brush her fingers away, shaking my head and clicking my tongue in reproach.

“You’re the one that wanted to play so much,” I teased, my voice relaxed and mocking. “Open your goddamn mouth.”

She resisted a smile, trying to act demure, and parted her lips, pushing her head forward to get closer to my length. She complied immediately when I told her to put her hands behind her back, warning of punishments if she failed to keep them there. Overlapping her wrists behind her, she glanced up at me for approval while I grabbed her hair and guided her to my cock.

I let her focus on the tip first, biting my lip with the way she sucked on it eagerly. Her tongue twirled around the head, lapping it up, and a wet pop echoed into my ears every time I pulled her head away. Switching hands to hold her locks, my free hand drifted down her back, caressing her crossed wrists before settling on her ass.

She bounced her hips, offering me the chance to toy with her while she tongued at my cock. The idea pleased me, which was why I tightened my grip on her hair and pulled her closer.

Lowering her head until my dick pushed its way into her throat, I growled, “Take it all, bitch.”

She groaned around my length, breathing readily through her nose as a garbled choking sound was muffled in her mouth.

My hand landed on her clothed pussy lips with a gentle tap and I added, “Don’t move those hands.”

Her pretty fingers had tightened into fists at the intrusion in her throat, but remained folded as ordered. I rubbed at her panties while she swallowed around my cock, pumping her head slightly with my hold on her. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn’t give up. This was one of our inaudible safe words. If she unfolded her arms, I would release her.

Yanking up her head, a loud intake of air passed through her lips. Saliva dripped down her chin while the tears finally made their way along her cheeks.

“God, you’re beautiful like this,” I praised with a guttural snarl. “Are you having a good time, princess?”

“Put me back, Jooheon,” she huffed, darting forward slightly and snapping her jaws in my direction.

I grinned with delight and shifted mercurially, giving her a glare that could freeze hell over. “Since when do you tell me what to do, whore?” I asked coldly.

“Please, Daddy,” she quickly whined. “Let me keep sucking your cock.”

“Ooh, nice save,” I crooned, letting go of her hair just long enough to give her a soft smack on the cheek. “Do you deserve to take this dick though?”

“I’ll take it wherever you wanna put it,” she replied, running her tongue across her bottom lip and lifting her eyebrows.

I snickered. She was too much. I wanted to spoon the shit out of her obnoxious self, but I would save that for morning.

Seizing her hair again, I brought her back down to my length and she took it in earnest, like I knew she would. With my grip on her head, I bobbed her up and down on my cock, leaning back into the couch and closing my eyes with pleasure.

“Atta girl,” I rasped, picking up the pace. “Good bitch.”

Some of my favorite sounds were ringing in my ears at the moment. She was choking, obviously, but she kept moaning with the way I patted her pussy through the underwear. Every now and then, I gave her cunt a good slap and her entire body jolted. I personally really enjoyed that.

Her saliva dripped across my balls and I shivered at the sensation. As I drew closer, I flexed my thighs beneath her, lifting my hips to drive deeper into her throat.

Rubbing her clothed core, I could feel her arousal soaking through and laughed at how badly turned on she was from this. I wanted to tell her how fucking amazing she was, how she took what I gave her. God knows I couldn’t do this while keeping my hands behind my back.

With a few pants, I murmured, “I’m gonna come in your throat, whore.”

She nodded around my length, humming and groaning to push me over the edge. Too close, I abandoned her pussy to bring both hands to her head, knotting my fingers in her hair and shoving her up and down, up and down. I could feel her arms shaking, but I knew she was getting off on it.

I moaned a swear or two as I came in her mouth, pulling her hair so hard I was surprised it didn’t rip out. She lay there perfectly submissive, trembling on my lap while I kept my cock in her throat. I told her to stay still, to wait until I was good and ready to pull out. I could feel her breathing through her nose and I reached down to stroke her face and neck while I took my time.

When I finally pulled her off, saliva and cum streamed out of her mouth, mingled with the tears falling down her face. She sat up next to me, arms still behind her back, and gulped dramatically for effect.

“Did I say you could sit up?” I asked sharply.

Her eyes widened before I grabbed her and tossed her across my lap, smiling as she giggled. My hand landed smartly on her ass and her laughing quickly stopped. I grabbed her throat firmly, exerting a little pressure while I coated her plump butt cheeks with my handprints.

“What happened to that innocent little thing?” I sang while stroking my palm over her clothed pussy, winding the strap of her thong in my fingers.

“Your dick fucked her up,” she retorted, wiggling her hips to let me watch her ass jiggle.

I brought my hand down on her cunt and she let out a long mewl, but it was cut short as I squeezed her neck.

“I love stretching out this pussy,” I whispered, snapping the underwear and drawing it off of her.

That had her attention. She went rigidly still on my lap.

My fingers toyed at her entrance and I heard her suck in a breath. Still holding her throat, I tipped her up and turned to look at her face.

“Is that where you want me?” I asked coyly.

She nodded as best she could with my grip.

“Balls deep in that tight cunt?” I pressed.

“Fuck me up, Jooheon,” she pleaded, eyes glazed over. “Please, fuck me.”

“Get up,” I demanded and she quickly got to her feet, putting her back to me while waiting for further instructions.

For a moment, I stared at her naked ass, raking my tongue across my teeth.

“Bra off.”

It was the last piece of clothing she wore and it was pulled from her body in an instant, tossed across the room. While she did that, I freed the tie from around my neck and unbuttoned my dress shirt, discarding it entirely.

“Step backwards,” I whispered. “Keep going.”

The moment she was within my reach, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her into my lap, steering her legs until they straddled me. Bringing the tie before her, she saw it momentarily before I knotted it behind her head, gagging her. The material dampened against her tongue and she hummed with arousal.

My lips left feather-light kisses up the side of her neck and she closed her eyes, tipping her head back and moaning softly. My hands snuck to her breasts, kneading the flesh and pinching her nipples until she squeaked.

“You did so good while I fucked your face, baby,” I whispered in her ear, playing with her tits while she balanced on my lap. “I’m in a mood to reward you now.”

Her breathing grew harder. Rarely did I just reward her with an easy orgasm. Most of the time I edged her or overstimulated her until she cried. By the way she glanced at the clock on the nearby end table, she was getting an idea in her head of how much time I had to kill and how much I would spend having my way with her.

Following her line of sight, I chuckled darkly against her neck and squeezed her breasts. “What’s the matter, princess?” I asked mischievously. “Afraid I have too much time on my hands?”

She shook her head.

“You were the one who told me to play with you, remember?” I asked, biting down at the base of her neck. “I’m gonna play all night.”

A shaky breath passed out of her gagged mouth.

My hands traveled lower, one bearing down on her hip while the other snaked to her entrance, finding it dripping with need. “God, you’re soaked,” I sighed. “I could slide my cock right in.”

Instead, I pressed two fingers into her pussy, pumping them slow and deep. Her body tensed and shifted, finding a better position to allow my intrusion. Her hands darted to the couch, sinking her nails into the material.

“No, no,” I chided. “Grab on to me, baby.”

She quickly snatched the material of my pants, clinging for dear life as I fingered her. Her pussy squelched around my digits with every ministration and I sank my teeth into my lip.

“Do you know why I was so angry?” I asked quietly.

There was a pause, then she shook her head.

I snickered against her skin and let my fingers plunge harshly into her cunt, dragging the tips along her sweet spot with force.

“The thought,” I groaned with vehemence. “Of another man being inside this beautiful bitch.”

She shivered in my lap, moaning my name against the tie in her mouth.

“I thought about giving you up, little lamb,” I continued, stroking her good and hard with my fingers, feeling her juices coating my knuckles. “But I can’t do it. I can’t let anyone else have you. Not now, not ever.”

“Jooheon,” she stuttered into the gag, but I could recognize her speaking my name anywhere.

Suddenly, she whimpered, rolling her hips as I picked up the pace between her legs. She rode my hand, clenching the material on my thighs with her fists. Her eyes winched closed and she begged and moaned and cried out.

“Don’t you dare come,” I hissed, pinning my free arm across her chest, between her bouncing breasts. “If you come before I say, I will punish you.”

She screamed against the gag, holding her breath to fight the climax. She knew I had no problem teasing her for the rest of the night and we both knew she didn’t handle orgasm denial very well. But denying her was not what I had in mind. Tonight I had reaffirmed the feelings I had toward her. I wanted to pleasure her. I wanted to reward her for staying by me.

Feeling her pussy clenching on my fingers, I joked, “Hoe, don’t do it.”

To my surprise, she reached up and pulled the gag from her mouth, yelling, “Jooheon, I have to come. Please, let me.”

“What the fuck did you just do?” I asked, feigning anger at her defiance.

“Shit,” she choked, stilling her hips as best she could while I finger fucked her relentlessly.

I shook my head in reproach and she didn’t dare turn to see the look on my face. “You’re in trouble now, baby,” I told her.

She put the gag back in her mouth, as if that made a difference, but I only laughed. Pressing down on her leg, my other hand added a third finger to her pussy and pumped in and out at a merciless pace. My thumb found her clit and rubbed, applying pressure with every thrust of my hand.

Listening to her crying out against the gag, I could already feel myself hard again. “Don’t come, don’t come,” I echoed, though my hands were doing the opposite of what they should have been doing to help with that.

She gave up. Her body fell back against mine a split second before her orgasm took over. She howled into the gag, shaking uncontrollably, and it was all I could do to keep her balanced on my lap. I kept fingering her, kept pinching her clit, and her hands collided with mine as she tried to push me off.

Pulling the tie off her head, I was about to make a smartass remark when she yelled, “Stop, Jooheon. Stop!”

“‘Stop’ isn’t the safe word, darling,” I replied calmly, still stroking at her sweet spot, fast and hard.

Like clockwork, rolling her clit, she came again mere seconds later. I laughed with twisted satisfaction as she pleaded for mercy, her body going rigid after riding the shit out of my hand. Finally, I stopped, pushing her off my lap until she flopped face down on the couch.

Standing, I glanced down at my handiwork while shimmying out of my pants. She gasped for breath and a sheen of sweat already glazed her smooth skin. My cock stood at attention, curving toward my stomach, but I wasn’t done. I enjoyed the fucked out look on her face, the way she shuddered in aftershocks.

“Hands and knees, baby,” I ordered, reaching down and palming my hand up her thigh, over her ass, and tickling my fingertips across her spine.

“Jooheon,” she whimpered. “Can I recover first?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s what I get for being nice,” I retorted, flashing a smile then hardening my gaze. “Get on your hands and knees, whore.”

Arousal pooled into her eyes, pupils dilating even further, and she kept her gaze on me as she assumed the position without hesitation.

I moved behind her, sitting between her legs and stroking my length. She was beyond sensitive from my fingers and I couldn’t wait to take advantage of that. She held her breath, expecting my thick cock to penetrate her at any moment.

Instead, I dropped to my back, sliding closer and reaching up to hook my arms around her hips. She barely managed to speak my name before I had lowered her to me and closed my lips around her clit.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, tipping her hips to give me better access.

I could hear her hands shifting over and over, trying to get a hold on something while she lost her mind. I lapped at her pussy, tonguing her entrance, kissing her bundle of nerves. Her juices traveled down my face, having been soaked from coming, and coated across my jaw.

Every inhale and exhale she made was audible, weighed down with pleasure. I couldn’t see from my position under her, but her eyes were rolling to the back of her head.

“Hngh, Jooheon,” she whimpered. “Do you like that? Do you like eating pussy?”

Her tone and words shot right down to my cock. I flexed my grip around her and bore my teeth, nibbling her clit until she spasmed above me. I smiled against her cunt when she began grinding her hips and grinned even more when I suddenly felt one of her hands cradling my head.

“You like when I ride your face?” she asked shakily, still rasping through little moans.

I nodded, skimming my teeth over her lower lips before raking my tongue between them.

She tangled her fingers in my hair and rutted her pussy into my mouth, yelling my name for the world to hear it.

I went to work on her clit, sucking like I had something to prove. She practically convulsed as yet another orgasm threatened to take her and only a moment later, she squeezed her grip on my hair and fell forward, burying her face in the cushions as she finished.

Pushing her hips, I bounced her against my tongue, still tormenting her clit while she came. I chuckled as I heard her muffled screaming against the sofa.

She finally lifted her head, hair covering her face, and mewled, “Jooheon, stop! It’s too much.”

“‘Stop’ still isn’t the safe word, honey.”

She clawed at the couch, shaking above me as I held her steady and ate out her entrance. She exploded on my tongue, filling my mouth with her cum, and I drank it up.

As much as she begged me to stop, she never did utter that safe word.

When she went limp, I kissed her clit goodbye and managed my way out from under her. She looked a heartbeat away from passing out.

“Hey,” I called, rolling her to her back and giving her a gentle smack to the cheek. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I saw black,” she deadpanned.

“Well, you’re going to see a lot more of it. Get your ass to the bedroom,” I demanded, pointing at the nearby door.

She shook her head, breasts heaving, and said, “I think this is the best night of my life.”

“I’m not done,” I replied, authoritative, slapping her thigh. “And if I have to tell you again…”

She sat up and faced me, our lips brushing. “Why don’t you make me?”

My brows lifted. “Are you challenging me?”

“Mm.”

Tilting my head and sharply grabbing her by the jaw, I whispered almost menacingly, “Aren’t you scared?”

She wrinkled her nose and mocked, “Oh, so terrified.”

Falling out of character briefly, I taunted, “Nah, I don’t see a shred of fear in you.”

“Do you see respect?”

I shook my head. “Not right now.”

Bracing her hands on my chest, she stroked her palms up and down, avoiding my eyes as she coyly said, “I suppose, you need to remind me.”

Alright, she wanted to go hard. I could oblige that. Nothing turned me on more than when she provoked me. She had become an expert in every single one of my buttons and enjoyed pushing each of them whenever she could.

“What’s the soft safe word?”

She fought a smile and answered correctly, “Champagne.”

“What’s the hard safe word?”

She let a short silence pass before replying, “Bourbon.”

In one sweep, I pulled her into my arms, chest to chest. She held my head, kissing me deeply while her ankles crossed behind my back. Sauntering my way to the bedroom of the suite, I kicked the door closed behind us. Dropping on to the bed with her beneath me, we both groaned in sync. I delved my tongue into her mouth, claiming her as mine as we danced in this fire together.

Then, I stood and stared long and hard at her. She lay on her back, arms at her sides in all of her naked glory. I kissed her lips one more time before proceeding to kiss her everywhere else. I pecked her collarbones. I sucked on her nipples. I left my marks on her hips. I lapped my tongue in her pussy.

Then, I flipped her over. She gasped my name, bending her legs as she gathered the comforter in her hands, preparing for what was to come. I couldn’t let her challenge go unanswered.

Dragging her hips to the edge of the bed, I kicked her legs farther apart and pushed my cock into her swollen cunt. She whimpered at the feeling of me penetrating her and I kept my promise of settling balls deep inside her.

“Good girl,” I growled, pinching her hips as I rocked her down to meet my thrusts. She lifted slightly on her arms, breasts bouncing with our movements, and chanted my name like a prayer for forgiveness.

I fucked her like I had never fucked anyone else in my life. I clenched my jaw and focused on driving my cock into her as deep and as hard as I could. Her skin bruised beneath my fingers. My hips slapped into hers loudly at a brutal pace. I expected her to sound the safe word. I expected her to beg for mercy, but there was nothing. Instead, she welcomed me inside her.

For a moment, I broke my concentration to tip my head back toward the ceiling, winch my eyes shut, and moan her name at the top of my lungs. She was so tight, wet, and warm around me, and I swore we fit too perfectly together.

When she cried out from the intensity of it, I slowed down, grinding my cock against her walls and letting her feel every inch of me. She keened with her mouth agape, flexing her thighs to pulse her cunt on me. Then, when I felt she’d had enough time to recover, I pounded her out again.

“Jooheon,” she called, squirming below me as the threat of another orgasm began.

“Stay still,” I growled.

She didn’t listen. She couldn’t comply. She was too sensitive from before, too turned on from what I did to her, and what I kept doing to her.

With a grumble, I pushed on her back until she fell to her stomach on the mattress. She had barely picked up her head before I was on her, sliding an arm under her waist to angle her hips into position for me to drive into her heat at full strength. She sank her teeth into the blanket, muffling her screams.

My hands sneaked under her body, finding her breasts and clinging to them possessively. While I held her in place, I glanced down to watch the way I took what was mine. The sounds we made filled the room, along with the scent of our bodies tangling together. To me, there was nothing better.

I finally slowed, taking a deep breath as sweat covered my neck and dripped from my hairline with exertion. Rocking my hips into her, I asked, “You wanna feel me cum in you?”

She nodded against the covers.

Grabbing her hair, I yanked her head to the side none too gently, giving me a view of her flushed face. “Answer me or have I fucked you stupid?”

“Yes, please,” she yelled. “Fuck me full of cum.”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “My bitch wants it?”

“Please.”

Grabbing her waist, I flipped her over, our eyes meeting in a wild clash of lust and haze. I smashed my lips on hers, kissing her hungrily while I guided my length back into her. She groaned into my mouth and seized my lip between her teeth for revenge.

Steering her legs to clamp higher up my body, I teased, “You are taking this fucking cock like a champ.”

She flashed a smile and replied, “I wanna be sore tomorrow.”

“You will be,” I retorted with a smirk. “I am gonna make it my mission to keep you sore forever.”

She surrendered to that thought and hummed with delight, her hands caressing my chest and my nipples, before making their way to my back. Her nails raked up and down my spine and I trembled with desire.

In a swift movement, I pushed her legs from my hips and grabbed her by the throat, immediately snatching her wrist and pinning it to the bed. Her free hand gripped mine as it held her neck, squeezing the right amount of pressure to interfere with her breathing. Lips parting, her eyes snared on me, filled with shock before returning to desire and arousal. I knew this woman too well.

“Look at you beneath me,” I growled, pounding my length in and out of her.

She blinked rapidly, a dark crimson washing over her face.

“You get off on this,” I murmured with pride. “You love how easily I could break you.”

As best she could, she nodded.

“You belong to me,” I hissed, lingering on her name as I groaned above her.

She bowed her body against mine and I seized her lips in a slack-jawed kiss just to feel the way she screamed my name into my mouth. Her eyes rolled back and she clawed for something to anchor her, inadvertently digging her nails into my arms. I grabbed her hands and pinned them to her sides, dropping my chest on hers to keep her from escaping the orgasm.

Slowly but surely, I coaxed her through another climax, feeling her walls clamping down on my length and watching her come undone beneath me. When she hit her peak, I reached mine and moaned as hard as I wanted, filling her full of my release and shuddering through my pleasure.

When we both began to fall back to earth, I looked down at her and whispered, “Don’t move.”

My hands still kept her arms pinned at the sides of her head and she was staring at me with the most satisfied look on her face. Tears were trickling from the corners of her eyes.

“Don’t pull out,” she murmured. “Stay with me.”

Tilting my head, I felt her legs flex slightly, her ankles tucked to the inside of my knees. It was something she always did. She tried to lock us together as much as possible and I loved her for it.

Nodding my compliance, I settled above her and gave her a tender kiss, praising her for how well she did. Then, I remembered what had started this rendezvous in the first place; the threat of losing her, the thought I had to leave her in order to keep her safe.

But I couldn’t do that. I could never do that. Not when she was the only one to save me from myself.

“It will always be me. You get that?” I told her sternly. “No one on this earth will ever make you feel the way I can. No one understands and completes you the way I do.”

She blinked, surprised at my outburst, and whispered, “Is it the same for you?”

“What?”

For a moment, she mulled over her words pensively and eventually pressed, “Do I complete you, Jooheon? Or am I the only one being owned?”

“You own me, woman,” I replied softly, bemused she held any doubts like that. “I belong to you and no one else. Ever.”

She blinked, light shining in her eyes. “Promise?”

“You’ve owned me from the night I first met you. When I listened to you talking about that shit anime you love. Didn’t you notice how I stared at you like you were some rare unicorn?”

“No,” she said with a giggle. “I was drunk.”

Cradling her face in my hands, I kissed her nose and crooned, “Yeah, you’re a cute drunk.”

“Which anime?”

“The hell if I know. I only watch hentai.”

Her eyes rolled at me. “Why am I not surprised?”

Finally sliding my length from her, I apologized repeatedly as she hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at me for not listening to her. I avoided her eyes with a smug smile and gathered the blankets to drape over us, settling back into a position above her.

“Let’s go away together for a while,” I suggested a moment later.

Instantly, she answered, “Okay.”

My eyes narrowed skeptically. Was she really willing to pick and leave her life here for me?

“Just like that?” I asked.

She nodded and carded my hair out of my face, pressing her lips to my forehead and whispering, “Just like that.”

I kissed her sweetly, lowering to rest my cheek on her chest. She stroked my head, combed her nails through my sweaty hair, and steadily fell asleep with my weight on top of her.

In my mind, I knew in the morning I would take care of business. I would destroy anyone that came between me and her.

Heaven help the man that crosses a lamb and her lion.

For more oneshots, click here for the masterlist.

Author’s Note: This fiction is written and owned by me. I monitor my work diligently and will take measures to protect my writing if it is stolen or plagiarized.

#oneshots #jooheon #monstax #jooheon smut #monsta x smut #jooheon scenarios #monsta x scenarios

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bigbangclappin · 7 years

Text

Fall Out pt. 4

Genre: annnngssst af

Warnings: mentions of rape, and cursing.

Word Count: 2,228

I/II/III

a/n: The support for this story is greatly appreciated and I know this author is a bit slow in delivering the newest installments and I’m so so sorry for that guys. Please know this is not the last part five will be. And you will find out the reason behind what happened in this update in the next one. Enjoy guys!

After dropping your friend off at his bus stop you checked your watch and clucked your tongue when you realized you had forty-five minutes to make it home before all hell broke loose. You were certain that Youngbae had already informed Jiyong about what happened.

Being on time was going to be the only thing going for you.

You were planning to fight your boyfriend this time. You wanted him to see that you were still a person, who wasn’t born and raised in the mafia life. Maybe if you worked as a team as opposed to your oppressor/ servant relationship you currently have you might have a chance at surviving in his world.

You hailed a taxi and pepped yourself up for your conversation. This was something you had to do for the sake of your relationship.

Two of the newbies stood tall and confident outside your front door and you only shook your head. How would you explain these two idiots to the neighbors?

They let you pass easily and even bowed to you.

Inhaling a deep breath you entered your apartment only to find that your friend was being held at gunpoint by the leader himself. His soft features nowhere to be found as he glared at the man he had tied to the chair.

“Kwon Jiyong what is the meaning of this?”

You took a step forward but you heard the click of the safety and stilled in your spot. Jiyong cocked his head to the side. Glancing at you, taking you in, his eyes were cold there was no sign of love or affection in them. Just contempt.

“I gave you the opportunity to earn your freedom back and what do you do?” he let out a menacing chuckle, “You spit in my face with this little fool.”

“Ji—”

“Don’t waste my time with useless excuses Jagi.”

He advanced toward your friend; point blank range he stood now. His pistol right between Tsuzuku’s eyes. Anger rushed through you, when had you let him get to you like this? When had you both come to distrust each other so horribly?

“If you kill him Jiyong I will never forgive you…” your tone was soft but your eyes were firm with their message. On the inside your heart was a mess but on the outside you looked as if you were built of stone.

He clicked his tongue in anger, “Why?”

“What?”

“Why is he so important to you?!”

Despite the volume he took not one person flinched including you. Jiyong always had a hard time sharing, food, gadgets, money, but especially you. You knew for certain that it had to do with the deprivation of affection he didn’t receive in his childhood, and you were so understanding that throughout your entire relationship you let him cling to you the way he was now.

But you refused to lose a friend’s life due to his insecurities.

“For the same reason my brother is Jiyong,” you didn’t know if rational reasoning would really appeal to him but this was the only way you knew how to do battle, you weren’t a killer, and you weren’t a fighter. “He’s like family to me.”

Your answer didn’t seem to take any type of effect on him and you felt your stomach lurch at the thought of him being so possessive it was almost psychotic.

“This is your family,” Jiyong said sternly but then he shook his head, “No, I am your family you don’t need anyone else.”

A cold laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it; tensing the strongest of men.

“How can you say that?” you mumbled, “Don’t you understand how lonely this life is Kwon Jiyong? How isolating it can be?”

“Everyone out,” Jiyong purred quietly he put a hand on Youngbae’s chest, “You are to make sure Choi Seunghyun takes care of this idiot.”

“Jiyong I’m incredibly serious if you kill him then this is over.”

“Out Dong Youngbae.”

You knew that once you were alone there was going to be no one save you; it was time to stand up to the big bad wolf. You loved Jiyong with everything you had but if he was going to continue treating you this way. Then that love wasn’t going to be enough anymore.

As the door shut behind Youngbae you took in a sharp breath; this was it.

“(Y/n)-ah,” Jiyong began softly approaching you with caution, “The last thing you want to do is threaten me.”

“It isn’t a threat Ji,” you explained evenly, “I can’t live like this anymore. You’re too controlling, you don’t allow me to have friends, I’m not allowed to leave the building without checking in with you. For god’s sake Jiyong you even get jealous of my brother...I did what I did for a reason.”

Jiyong’s eyes were as cold as a shark’s but in deepest depths of the dark brown you saw the hurt he has been harboring since you left.

“So it’s true then?” Jiyong closed the distance between you and grabbed your upper arms tightly, “You faked your death to get away from me?”

God it sounded so awful when he said it out loud; you weren’t a bad person were you? Anyone in your situation would do the same thing. Jiyong wouldn’t have let you go especially not if he bought you a ring.

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

You whispered softly; Jiyong squeezed your arms tighter in return to your response.

“Ji,” you whimpered in fear, “You need to let go.”

“If I let go you’ll only disappear again.”

You shook your head, “No I won’t Jiyongie we just need to figure this out.”

“What you want (Y/n)-ah is very hard to give when everyone out there wants to kill me…”

You sighed you weren’t sure if you were disappointed in yourself or with him. Your emotions were a mess as was your heart. Did you expect too much from a gangster? Or did you hold him to a standard you knew was unfair?

“I can live with Youngbae or Daesung following me around but I just want to have friends outside of this Jiyong-ah, I want to be able to sit down at a coffee shop and enjoy normal conversation with people who aren’t wise to who my boyfriend is…”

“You’re ashamed of me?” he growled once again his anger surfacing, “Do you know all that I’ve accomplished for you?”

“For me?” you snapped, “You’ve been doing this kind of work before you even met me, how ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” he bellowed, “This is my life’s work that I built from the ground up—”

“You built your life’s work on top of the dead Kwon Jiyong.”

He slapped you then but what was more surprising was you retaliated. You punched him square in the jaw. As he clutched his mouth in pain you escaped his debilitating hold; his eyes blazed as he came toward you.

Grabbing you by the shoulders as you tried to break for the door. He let out a mangled yelp when you stepped on his foot with your heel.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

The passion and hurt behind his tone seized your struggle; tears were actually forming in his eyes and he looked like a small child who only wanted his parents love.

“Jiyong-ah I love you so much,” you told him grabbing his cheeks gently, “I’m just so overwhelmed by your behavior towards those close to me I don’t know what to do with you.”

“I’ll try to control myself I promise,” he swore to you with such conviction you believed him, “Please don’t leave me.”

You felt as if you had been the aggressor throughout your relationship; you reluctantly held him. You felt stunned that a man this proud was shedding tears over you. You never thought that you had meant as much to him as he did to you.

“It’s alright Ji,” You placed a kiss on his cheek, “We’ll work this out.”

Six months later

Your wrists were blistered from the rope, your body battered from what were once gentle hands. A migraine was beating against your temples and your neck looked as if you were seeing a vampire.

But nothing compared to the pain in your heart. You weren’t doing anything wrong you tried to explain, but to no avail. You were still punished. This punishment more severe than any before. You couldn’t be sure what had caused him to release such bitter anger out on you.

He had given you permission to go out with your new group of friends. That you had made at the new job you had taken up at one of Jiyong’s legit businesses. All of which he okayed.

Imagine the surprise you felt when you returned that night to your home in Seoul to see him standing there waiting for you. You could smell the liquor on his breath and the look in his eyes was less than approachable.

You felt sick to your stomach as you remembered the rough ways he had taken you.

Jiyong had become a monster..

Maybe you deserved everything that happened to you the previous night; You were dumb enough to assume he’d keep his promise to you. Men like Jiyong didn’t change for anyone. They told you whatever you wanted to hear; they were con men.

And man had you had been taken for a real fucking fool.

At first you thought an apology would make it better but then you realized an apology would do shit for you. He could give you roses, buy you a new car, a new villa even, but he could never buy your self-worth.

You decided that maybe it was time for both of you to stop playing games. In order for you both to have any form of peace you needed to end this. He needed closure and you did too.

You cleaned yourself up with a shower, threw on your most presentable casual dress, and covered the majority of your love-hate wounds with makeup.

You were ready.

You meandered down the dark hallway that led to his office, the long distance did wonders in means of self-motivation. You knocked on the door with confidence.

You heard his soft voice allowing you to enter; it was awkward to say the least but you powered through; sitting in the chair directly in front of his desk.

“What do you need Jagi?”

“I just want to talk.”

He nodded his head not once taking his eyes off his work, his pen moving a mile a minute. Which you guessed was your cue to speak first.

“Jiyongie,” you started softly, “What you did last night...it made me uncomfortable. You hurt me and despite me telling you to stop you still continued to…” you took a deep breath holding tears back, “What you did to me is unforgivable, look at my wrists!”

You wiped the makeup off with a tissue from his desk and when he refused to look you pounded your fist into the wood. His head snapped up at the sound and once you had his attention you refused to let it go.

“You bastard!” You barked at him tears clogging your throat, “I don’t know what I did to deserve what you did to me! I am not some animal you can just brand, I’m not a possession. I love you Jiyong, I always trusted you, I never thought that you would hurt me like this. I can take the slaps, the wrist grabbing, but not this, you crossed the fucking line. You’re lucky I don’t kill you for what you’ve done...you’re lucky I don’t hate you…”

You grabbed the portfolio that took his focus away from you and threw it across the room.

“You can’t even look me in the eye can you?” you were mere inches away from losing your damn mind, “What happened to the promise you made?”

Once again complete silence, “That’s it!”

You slammed your hands on the desk again before you took your leave.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s no concern of yours!”

You slammed the door behind you noting that poor Youngbae looked more apologetic than Jiyong ever had in his entire life.

“Mianhe (Y/n)-ah.”

You stopped for a moment, “Why are you sorry?”

Youngbae looked lost for a moment before he answered you, “For not being able to stop him.”

You surprised the older man by giving him a hug, “I know oppa, thank you for everything.”

He didn’t question you he just allowed you to leave; you texted your brother asking if you could stay with him and your niece for the time being.

When you received an of course there was no turning back. You left that high-rise with your chin up and a new found confidence to start over.

Forget Jiyong he was never good for you in the first place. There were other fish in the sea who wouldn’t control your every move. Or pick off your male friends one-by-one because they wanted to.

You texted Tabi; discreetly telling him where he could find you should he ever need you.

Getting in that cab like a regular person felt like a dream come true.

So long mob life; hello normal one.

#gdragon scenario #gdragon imagine #bigbang scenario #bigbang imagine #kwon jiyong scenario #kwon jiyong imagine #bigbangclappin #almost finished series

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concussed-to-pieces · 3 years

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Fifteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to torture and prolonged, vivid depictions of assault. Stay safe!]

"Call tags?" The scribe droned, not even looking up from the terminal.

Danse only hesitated for a second. "D, N, dash, four zero seven P."

The scribe punched in the letters and numbers, and Danse saw the young man visibly jerk in surprise. Rheumy brown eyes stared up at the towering suit of X-01 armor and the scribe's voice squeaked when he hissed, " Danse? "

The armored man nodded.

"Are you insane?! Danse--er, Paladin Danse, the elder has been on the warpath ever since you went...sir, he says you're a synth, a traitor to the Brotherhood. You're supposed to be dead! I knew there was something fishy about those reports!" The scribe whispered shakily. He looked incredibly nervous. "Most of us think he's off his rocker, but you try finding a soldier with the balls to tell him that point-blank!"

"It's comforting that you all have such faith in me." Danse said, meaning every word. "I'm afraid the announcement of my death was a bit...premature."

The scribe blinked. "Sir, after everything that...the amount of us that would stand by you through anything is the vast majority, I promise. Elder Maxson has locked up Paladin Brandis and-"

"Tell me he hasn't harmed Brandis." Danse cut him off, relieved when the scribe shook his head hastily.

"I think even the elder knows better than to assault one of the most beloved officers in our chapter." The scribe exhaled a long breath, then looked back up at Danse. "Sir, you should know that...well, it may be a bit disappointing to hear, but even if you are a synth, we're still with you, sir." The scribe gave him a salute.

Danse's eyes pricked with tears. He couldn't believe that he had the power to inspire such unwavering loyalty. "At ease, soldier. With any luck, this will be a diplomatic engagement. I'll take Knight Vega and be on my way."

"I...I am unsure if it will be so simple." The scribe admitted. "Ex-Knight Vega has also been confined to the brig since you went AWOL."

" Ex -knight?"

"Maxson stripped of her rank, sir. Accused her of conspiring against the Brotherhood. On her end, she maintains her innocence." The scribe shrugged. "I don't understand why he doesn't just exile her or have her stand trial, but he's been dragging his feet the whole-"

" Bait ." Danse realized. "He's been waiting for me to come back for her, of course . She's our only way into the Institute. Either that or he just wants the satisfaction of killing me himself." He moved past the checkpoint without another word, leaving the scribe to sputter. Danse hoped he wasn't being too self-absorbed when he surmised that the report of his 'death' was no doubt being utilized as a thumbscrew on Elizabeth. Maxson obviously needed a confession; hell, he might even suspect Vega of being the one that tipped Danse off in the first place.

No one paid him much mind as he strode across the compound. Though he did intercept a few curious glances, Danse chalked them up to the distinctive armor he was wearing instead of outright suspicion.

"Where is the elder?" He gruffed at a crowd of aspirants, counting on the staticky speakers of his helmet to disguise his voice. One of them grimaced.

"In a mood." She joked, the group of aspirants nodding and laughing amongst themselves. "But if you mean location, he's been hanging around the build site a lot. Watching the progress on Big Lib, you know."

Danse inclined his head and turned on his heel, making a beeline for the previously-mentioned location while he guiltily recalled the time that he had threatened Vega with an upbraiding for her own quips about Maxson. As he thundered back across the courtyard, he could hear the muttering start up. People were beginning to notice him. His window of opportunity was shrinking; he needed to find Maxson fast . Danse picked up his pace, half-jogging.

Catching sight of Maxson at the very top of Prime's gantry made Danse feel minute, an insignificant David at the feet of a giant. He swallowed hard, shaking off the unsettling sensation and cueing up his helmet's speakers.

At the whine of feedback, Ingram glanced up from her console beneath the shelter across the dusty tarmac. "Hey!" She said sharply. "Whoever you are, you don't have clearance to-"

" Elder Maxson! " Danse roared, ignoring the red-headed proctor in favor of tilting his whole body back to project his voice upwards. " You know why I'm here! "

" Abomination! " Maxson shouted, sounding almost gleeful . He bolted for the lift, as if he expected Danse to flee. The paladin stood his ground though, patiently waiting for the elder to arrive at the lower level.

"Danse? You…" Ingram trailed off, scrambling across the square. "Is it really you in there, Danse?"

"Yes, Proctor."

There was so much more he wanted to say, so much more to explain , but Maxson's arrival on the ground effectively cut off Danse's conversation. "I knew you would return, you traitor ." He asserted smugly as he marched over to Danse. "How kind of you to give me the privilege of ending you myself ."

Danse held up his hands peaceably. "I am unarmed, Maxson. I'm not here for a fight. I am simply here to request the amicable release of...of General Vega." He used the Minutemen title on a whim, watching Arthur's nostrils flare in irritation.

"Oh General Vega , is it? The Minutemen send a machine to do their dirty work? Or have you already infiltrated their ranks with more of your kind?" Maxson spat.

Danse shook his head. "This may come as a shock to you, Elder Maxson, but I had no idea I was a synth." He heard Ingram gasp behind him. Even Maxson looked momentarily startled at his admission and Danse seized the opening to reason, "through the entirety of my career I've done nothing to betray your trust, Arthur. And I never will. Please," Danse implored, "we need General Vega if we hope to eradicate the Institute."

"You expect me to believe that you wish to eradicate the Institute? You were born of it!" Arthur spat venomously. "You even standing here is an affront to nature, you scum . The Brotherhood does not negotiate with-"

"Elder Maxson, wait!" Ingram interrupted him sharply. "He's telling the truth. Vega is instrumental to gaining entry to the Institute. Our whole reason for being in the Commonwealth is to destroy the Institute. If we lose this chance-"

"I will not be spoken down to by my own troops, Proctor!" Maxson raged.

"Arthur, listen to me . You and Danse having a pissing match should be the least of our concerns." Ingram raised an eyebrow. "If he meant us harm, I feel like he would have come with a battalion or two. Danse might be a little dense , but he's never lacked battlefield intelligence."

"This thing isn't Danse, so stop referring to it as such!"

"Until proven otherwise, yes, he is . His DNA matched that Institute crap. It's him, Maxson. It's always been him. Sure, you might find it easier to think that the Institute grabbed the real Danse while he was out and about, but I don't think he would be reported as a missing asset if he was supposed to be here." Proctor Ingram theorized as she crossed her arms, her armor frame creaking.

"Just give me Elizabeth, Maxson." Danse pleaded. "This isn't a fight you want."

"Oh, on the contrary. This is the fight I want." Maxson seethed. "A chance to prove Brotherhood superiority once and for all! We will settle this as it is written in the Litany!"

"You sincerely wish to have a live-fire trial?" Danse asked incredulously, "a Litany trial, Arthur? As I recall, you stated before that you were above such practices."

"We live in unprecedented times, traitor." Maxson drew himself up to his full height. "My authority has been brought into question again and again. It seems only right that I battle my chief dissenter."

Danse was at a loss for words. Maxson's behavior was so irrational, he was almost tempted to consider whether the elder himself had been replaced by a synth. But no, voicing that fear would no doubt send Maxson into an even worse froth.

"When I defeat you, it will finally affirm the truth of the Brotherhood: that we were meant to stand tall atop the corpses of abominations, meant to triumph! " Maxson's eyes were wild as he turned to Ingram. "Proctor, you will bear witness to our Litany agreement. And now, abomination , issue your challenge." The elder demanded.

"Arthur-"

" Issue it or be slagged where you stand! " Maxson screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

Danse had never personally engaged in a Litany trial. His memory of the terminology was hazy at best, but he still made an attempt. "As a Brotherhood of Steel paladin," he began haltingly, saluting and then extending his hand to Maxson. "I am issuing a formal challenge against your authority as elder of this chapter. Through your actions and your deeds, you have proved yourself unfit to lead in my eyes. We will engage in combat under your terms, and should I emerge victorious, I ask that you relinquish General Vega to me."

"And when I emerge victorious, I will kill you." Maxson stated confidently.

"So be it." Danse knew he had very little agency in this matter. Maxson wanted to fight him, and Maxson always got his way. "Your terms, Elder?"

"No weapons or armor. We fight with nothing but the skills we possess. The first one pushed out of the circle loses." Maxson smirked. "You might be a synth, but a bullet in your head puts you down just as easily as any feral."

"You give me your word as Elder that you will turn Vega over to the custody of the Minutemen if I win?" Danse insisted, his heart slamming in his chest. Oh God, he would have to fight Maxson. Worse still, he would have to beat him. Arthur's prowess in combat was almost fabled , that story about the deathclaw part of this chapter's mythos.

"I will give you nothing, creature , and it will be far more than you deserve. But certainly, if you manage to beat me, I'll see to it that your co-conspirator is relinquished to your care." Maxson sneered. "Proctor, send out the announcement that we will have entertainment shortly."

"Sure thing, Elder." Ingram muttered, sidestepping away as Danse removed his helmet.

"I want everyone down here and watching, Ingram!" Arthur called as she departed. "Make sure that traitor Vega is escorted to the combat area." He then chuckled in a self-satisfied manner, no doubt taking note of Danse's stern expression. "Oh don't worry, synth . We showed your precious general all the courtesies that the Brotherhood has to offer while we interrogated her."

Danse knew that Arthur trying to rile him up was technically a good sign. It meant that the other man was attempting to disperse some of his own nerves. However, it was difficult for him to capitalize upon with the worry of Vega possibly being injured getting added onto the pile of Danse's concerns. The growl erupted from him unintentionally, burring in his chest like a hacksaw. "Maxson, if you-"

"Do not speak to me, freak ." Arthur hissed.

Danse stewed as a crowd began to form. At least now they would have an audience. Hundreds of eyes watching his every move, but also watching Maxson's. Danse hoped that the scribe at the gate hadn't just been spouting optimistic nonsense.

The paladin emerged from his armor, standing at attention beside the frame as a vertibird whirred by overhead, descending from the Prydwen. Upon their first sight of him, the troops began talking amongst themselves. Danse reasoned that it must be quite the shock for most of them, to see him alive and well.

Please be alright, Vega , the paladin begged mentally. Please , Elizabeth .

He heard her coming long before he saw her, watching the crowd part for a lone knight in power armor. "You're a fuckin' piezashet , y'know that? Just a fuckin' asshole! " Backhand roared, struggling and straining against the iron grip of the knight that was dragging her along. "Let me go , y' fuckin' cockass'n sunuva' fuck! "

Danse blinked, a bit impressed with the vitriol the general was spitting considering her appearance. She looked like a stretch of bad road, gaunt, both of her eyes ringed yellow-green from faded bruising and her glasses absent. The whole left side of her face bore the distinct grate marks of the Prydwen's catwalks, indicating that she had been slammed against the floor. Her Vault suit was in shambles, half-ribboned and hanging off of her shoulder at a rakish angle, and her hair was a tangled, greasy mess.

Danse catalogued it all and swiftly tucked it away for later. Compartmentalize . She's alive and ambulatory. Priority is Maxson , he instructed himself sternly. Focus . You can't afford to be distracted right now. You face the elder of the Brotherhood of Steel .

All of that flew out the window the moment he heard Elizabeth's voice crack. "D... Danse? " She asked tremulously, "Danse, you're alive? "

Danse nodded, not looking at her. "For better or for worse, I am."

"I…" Backhand paused. "What's going on, Danse? I-I thought that...I thought you were…"

Her obvious distress gave Danse an odd rush of guilty comfort. She would have missed him. Had she mourned him when she thought he was dead?

To hell with it .

Danse turned to Elizabeth, carefully tipped her chin up and pressed a corner of the bandanna around his neck to her lips. "For luck." He murmured with a thin smile, cupping the right side of her face so he didn't hurt her. She just stared up at him, those eyes bright with pent-up emotions. The knight securing her coughed awkwardly and Danse stepped back, feeling Vega's gaze on him even as he moved to face Maxson.

Ingram cleared her throat and announced above the rising hubbub, "this is a Litany trial! The conditions are no weapons or armor, strictly empty-handed combat. If Paladin Danse manages to remove our elder from the circle, the Brotherhood has agreed to release the former Knight Vega into Minutemen custody. If our elder removes the paladin from the circle, Paladin Danse has agreed to allow the elder to pass swift judgement upon him."

"Say it how he said it, Proctor!" Danse barked, his deep voice carrying well. "He plans to kill me if he wins, don't shy away from it!" He heard Vega swear before the crowd of knights, aspirants and squires around him voiced their mixture of dismay and apprehension. "Elder Maxson has deemed me a threat to the Brotherhood and has forced my hand. So now we engage in a combat trial as it is written in the Litany."

"Trying to turn my troops against me, abomination?" Maxson huffed as he discarded his heavy battle coat and began rolling up his sleeves. "I can't say I'm surprised, but I am disappointed. I had hoped you would meet your end with some shred of dignity."

Danse shrugged, Backhand's lucky bandanna brushing his chin when he raised his head. "You haven't won yet, Maxson." He reminded the younger man with a sad smile.

Arthur lunged at him suddenly, dust flying with the speed of his approach. Danse barely managed to sidestep, latching on to Arthur's wrist and shoulder. The paladin used the other man's momentum against him, redirecting him around his body and kicking his legs out from beneath him.

"Are we beginning now, Arthur?" He asked sharply, that tactical portion of his brain considering the merits of stomping down on Maxson's groin with all his might.

But no, no, he couldn't--Maxson was the elder -

Arthur flailed on the ground, his face red with fury as he clawed at Danse's hands on him. The paladin released him and stepped back, not overly eager to stay within striking distance of the formidable elder. Unfortunately, Maxson didn't leave him much of a choice in the matter. The younger man darted forward again, too low for Danse to redirect him. The paladin took the brunt of Arthur's shoulder to his midsection, gasping out a pained breath even as he tried to brace his footing.

Arthur's shoulder drove deeper into his stomach and the younger man grappled Danse's legs, heaving him backwards off the ground . Danse frantically grabbed at Maxson's back before the younger man pinned him bodily, the two of them hitting the gravel with a bone-jarring impact.

Danse still hadn't been able to catch his breath and he barely got his arms up in time as Arthur cocked back for his first punch.

Maxson tended to machine-gun when it came to his blows, pummeling his target to a pulp within the first flurry. Danse had watched him fight enough to know that this was possibly the worst position for him to be in. Here, Maxson could just rain attacks down onto him until his damn arms broke, beat him into submission without even having to get him outside the boundaries. "You will die. In the dirt . Like the dog you are!" Maxson screamed as he struck Danse.

He's the elder. He's the elder. But...

Danse gritted his teeth. No . If Maxson was doing to kill him, he was going to work for it. Danse wouldn't hand him his fragile existence on a silver platter. Not anymore. Never again . Every assault, every misguided order, every time his admiration or willingness to help had been taken advantage of…

Danse sucked in a breath and shoved Maxson in the chest with all his might, knocking the other man off of him. " Fuck you Arthur! " He spat, suddenly red-hot angry . He got to his feet and loomed over the elder of the Brotherhood, smoldering with rage.

Maxson seemed confused, like he couldn't believe Danse was actually fighting back . He scrambled back to an upright position, the two of them circling each other much more warily now.

"You should have just laid down and died like a good soldier!" Maxson taunted, feinting a few jabs on the left before he swung in from the right. His fist caught Danse in the jaw, snapping the older man's head to the side as he continued, "should have just let me break you, Danse!"

Danse, reeling from the hit, staggered back a step and dropped to one knee. No, get up . Don't let him do this to you . He forced himself back up, glancing the next punishing blow off his shoulder and then landing a check of his own that sent Maxson sprawling on his back.

"Get up, Arthur!" Danse shouted, his fists clenched. " Get the fuck up and fight me! "

So fast Danse almost missed it, Arthur whipped his combat knife out of his boot sheath and rushed him with it, holding the blade low in an effort to conceal the weapon.

The blade that killed the deathclaw .

The point barely grazed Danse's arm as he flinched back, razor-sharp steel easily parting the flannel and skin beneath it.

He was in trouble now. Maxson unarmed was bad enough, but Maxson using a weapon he was intimately familiar with absolutely spelled certain death for Danse. Never mind that they had agreed on no weapons. Danse doubted anyone was exactly refereeing a Litany trial. As long as they stayed within the circle, he was under the impression that he was on his own.

Arthur slashed wildly at him, no longer bothering for subtlety as he openly attacked Danse with the knife. Maxson had this hideous, leering smirk on his face the whole time; he was playing with his food.

Danse felt like an idiot for even thinking that he had a chance at winning when Maxson buried the blade in his shoulder.

But what else could he do? Die in the dirt , like Arthur had screamed at him?

" You're a cheating sunuvabitch, Arthur! " Vega's voice rang out loud and clear like the crack of a whip. Danse saw her out of the corner of his eye, the woman struggling vainly against the armored vambrace that encircled her waist. " Coward! " She yelled indignantly.

Danse smiled thinly through the pain, gripping Maxson's wrist on the knife with enough force to make Arthur grunt. His free hand clamped down on the crook of Maxson's elbow, keeping the younger man locked in that position. Maxson headbutted him to try and make some space and Danse slammed their heads together harder, baring his teeth and snarling in Arthur's face.

Between the two of them, Arthur would always be smarter and quicker than Danse.

But Danse was stronger . Danse thrived in the trenches and on the front lines. Maxson may have called him a dog as an insult, yet there was truth in his words. Danse was a bulldog , boots on the ground, chewing for the jugular until the day he died. This wasn't his first time fighting for his life against insurmountable odds and he was finally refusing to roll over for Arthur.

Something flashed in Maxson's eyes for a split-second and Danse latched onto it. "You're afraid of me, aren't you Maxson?" He panted, maintaining his death grip as Arthur began to struggle to free himself. "Of what I could do to your leadership, your elder status-"

" Shut the fuck up!" Maxson seethed, the palm of his free hand crashing into Danse's throat. The paladin stumbled back and dropped to the ground, his lungs screaming for air as the blade tore loose. Maxson, instead of just finishing him off, began to pontificate, watching Danse writhe and hack for air in the dirt. "You know Danse, I saw what you had with Cutler and I envied it. I searched for years , trying to find something like it. I failed, naturally. So the only solution was to get Cutler out of the picture. But you were stubborn . You longed for a dead man, entirely ignoring the needs of your leader!" Maxson hissed, grinding the heel of his boot against the wound on Danse's shoulder. "And if I couldn't have you wholly, I would break you."

Danse knew on a technical level that the wound should hurt. His face automatically winced. But all he could focus on was Arthur's words, his confession . The heel of the elder's boot, already sticky with blood, crushed down on the side of Danse's head next.

"Why so quiet now, Danse? Do I behave like a man who fears you, freak? " Maxson mocked him, delivering one last kick before backing away.

Danse laid there in the gravel, bruised, bleeding; dazed not just by pain but by the knowledge that Maxson had sent Cutler away on purpose. Maxson had sent Cutler to his death. Sent Brandis to his death. Sent Danse to his death.

" Well , synth? For being so confident, you are remarkably silent!" Arthur needled. "Where's all that righteous wrath you threatened me with? I wanted a fight! "

Danse noticed dimly that the crowd was entirely still around them. It was eerie, like everyone else had vanished and it was just he and Arthur.

Danse raised his left arm, the whole limb shaking violently, and he curled his fingers to flip Maxson off.

The crowd's judgemental silence dissolved into laughter and rowdy shouts, both for and against the paladin. He vaguely picked up Vega yelling, " Attaboy! "

Arthur sputtered with fury. He leaped at Danse, no doubt enraged enough to slit his throat. All Danse could think to do was hike his knees up, planting them firmly in Maxson's pelvis and then catapulting the smaller man up and over his body. Maxson landed several feet away on his back, giving a pained grunt as the wind was knocked out of him by the impact.

The knife clattered and skidded through the dirt and gravel, out of reach for the moment. Danse floundered to roll over, trying to keep the distance between himself and Arthur while the dust settled. When it did, though, he realized something.

Arthur's entire body was outside the circle.

Danse blinked, eyes wide as he realized that not only did that mean he had won, that meant Arthur had lost. In front of everyone .

" Freak! " Maxson shrieked, staggering back to his feet and pointing an accusatory finger at the wounded paladin. "At least Cutler had the good sense to get himself killed , unlike you and fucking Brandis! " The elder screamed, blood and saliva flying from his mouth. "You two are like goddamn radroaches! "

"Elder Maxson?" Rhys . He sounded so hesitant, so unlike himself. "Sir, did you...did you send our squad out here purposely? "

"It is not your place to question me, Knight! And don't act like Danse didn't tell you as much, I'm certain he wasted no time vilifying me upon your arrival to the Commonwealth!" Maxson spat ruthlessly. "Traitorous liar! "

"I'm afraid the paladin may have been too preoccupied with keeping his squadron alive to convey any personal irritation regarding you , sir." Haylen said dryly. "Perhaps you can fill us in on what we might have missed?"

Maxson, instead of answering, threw himself back at Danse.

…

Danse hit the ground with Maxson on top of him and Backhand screamed something abusive that was extremely unflattering to the elder's lineage.

Arthur grabbed Danse by the collar of his worn shirt and slammed the back of his head against the ground, the elder appearing to snap as he howled with rage and punched Danse again and again and again -

Vega's fists clenched in her binds and she struggled futilely against the knight holding her, willing Danse to fight back, to do something , don't die on me!

Suddenly a huge gauntlet was seizing Maxson by the seat of his pants, tossing the young man off to the side.

"That is enough ." Brandis, Brandis , how had he even gotten there?! Backhand had last seen him in the bowels of the Prydwen as she was being led out from the cell! The elderly paladin stood tall over the two bedraggled men in the dirt, cracking his knuckles in his gauntlets. "What is the meaning of this, Maxson?" He asked furiously, tone sharp through the speakers of his helmet. "You would disgrace trial by combat in such a manner? How dare you! You bring shame upon the Litany!"

"Stay out of my way, you meddling old fool!" Maxson ordered, getting shakily to his feet.

"Or what, you'll beat me to a pulp as well?" Brandis retorted. "You've turned against your troops, Arthur, the men and women you swore to lead with integrity. You've freely admitted to sending soldiers to their deaths because it suited you , not the needs of the Brotherhood. You've brought nothing but disgrace to our chapter, Arthur! Look around you! " Brandis exclaimed, gesturing at the crowd. "You're a tyrant , Maxson! Not one amongst the ranks would stand up to you, not one would shake you back to reality, and those that tried are now lying in the damn dirt ."

"Be quiet! "

"You cannot silence me, Maxson." The old paladin said calmly. "You've tried and failed before."

"What would you have me do, Brandis? He's a synth ."

"Perhaps." Brandis allowed. "But all I see is a man who obeyed your stipulations and threw you out of your circle, Maxson. According to our tenets and the Litany, his requests must be met. Release Vega to his custody."

Maxson snarled futilely. "You will regret crossing me, Brandis!" He warned. "Stand down now! "

"I have no squadron left for you to kill, Elder ." The older paladin scoffed a little. "What will you hold over my head? Retirement?" He tipped his helmet towards the knight who had Vega. "I said, release her ."

The knight who had been holding Backhand let her go with a mumbled apology, and without any hesitation she took off at a dead run for Danse. Her whole body ached from the heavy-handed treatment Maxson had inflicted on her, but in the light of getting Danse back it was an easy burden to bear.

She tumbled to her knees, her hands still bound in front of her as she called his name. He groaned in reply, grimacing when she touched his arm. "Danse, holy shit ." Backhand breathed.

The paladin exhaled a broken laugh, barely opening his eyes. "Did I win?" He asked blearily. "Everything is spinning."

Backhand couldn't help the sob that escaped her as Danse pawed blindly at her bound hands, the young woman opening her mouth to say something.

There was a commotion behind her, Brandis shouting " no Maxson! " and then a gunshot. Backhand froze as a plume of dirt kicked up bare inches from Danse's head, the paladin jerking away from the impact.

She pitched herself forward, bridging Danse's form with her own by propping her weight up on her elbows. "Don't move, Danse." She whispered, "I've got you, okay? If he wants to shoot you he's gonna' have to get through me ."

"Don't try to--Vega, I order you to get out of the way! How dare you defy me!" Maxson struggled against Brandis' attempts to take the service pistol from him, waving the gun wildly in the air. " Traitors! Let the synth meet its fate!"

"Vega, you need to... Elizabeth , he'll shoot you, please -" Danse begged, weakly shoving at her side. "The Brotherhood needs-"

" Fuck the Brotherhood, Danse!" Backhand yelled at him. "If this is how they treat you , someone who's spent his entire career fighting for their cause, then I don't want shit to do with them!"

The report of the service pistol cut through the air once more, and Backhand's body collapsed on top of Danse.

Part Sixteen

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