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anxiousstark · 3 years

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The Name of the Game | Mitch Rapp

Warnings: Vulgar vocabulary, public sex (if you squint), unprotected sex (this is a fic, be safe), teasing, foreplaying, etc. Porn with some plot.

Word Count: 3280

A/N: First time writing smut so, please don’t kill me. This CAN’T be considered flithy after the 11k I wrote for the Dylan fic.

BIG MASTERLIST | MIATCHEMBER | KO-FI

A long dark green silky dress hugged the shape of your body, accentuating the most appealing parts of your physique. Your bareback was full of goosebumps as your hair caressed the uncovered skin. Besides, your makeup was done flawlessly, emphasising the most attractive features you had.

Your walk was confident, the clicking of your heels turning heads towards you. Your presence too big for the room. However, you ignored the desiring gazes that you received from both men and women, focusing on your mission.

Liam Zajicek was your objective. A young and attractive man who was being searched by almost every CIA agent. At the young age of 22 years old, he was probably the most searched and wanted hacker. The CIA had been searching for him since last year when he successfully altered the votes in the elections of the new president of America. However, Zajicek was stealthy, not leaving any hint that could implicate him in such a grave crime.

But the man you worked for was even more stealthy, preparing his next moves before Liam Zajicek had the opportunity to do anything. And his next move was you.

The mission was easy, too easy for you. You would be lying if you denied feeling offended for receiving such a simplistic mission. It was as lightly as seducing Liam. Even if he was a talented hacker, he was still a young man who would be sex-driven.

A man in a tuxedo walked closer to you, a tray on his right hand, lowering it so you could grab the drink you craved. Nodding while offering him a charming smile, your eyes gazed around, trying to find the man whose pictures you had studied closely.

The ballroom was full of people. Elegant dresses and tuxedos, expensive drinks, and perfumes. It was the perfect environment to seduce someone, leading them out of the public eye to kill them. However, Liam was going to be luckier as your boss wanted to be the one taking care of him.

The golden light appeared to illuminate your beauty as you wandered closer to the bar, discerning your target talking to a considerably alluring woman. Sitting in a luxurious barstool, you crossed your right leg on top of your left one, causing the cut of the dress to expose your glowing skin.

Setting your intense gaze on him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours. Your tongue wetted your lip, exaggerating the action a little more as Liam Zajicek noticed you. His mouth turned into a smirk, eyes focused on you as he ignored whatever the red-haired girl was telling him.

The music turned into a ballad. Getting up from the barstool, you walked to the floor where some couples were already slow dancing, enjoying the closeness, and hoping to bring a nice one-night stand to their hotel room. As you walked to the floor, your gaze was focused on Liam. He completely ignored the red-haired woman, walking to where you were standing.

"Are you maybe waiting for someone who will have the chance to slow dance with you?" His voice was husky, and you weren't sure if it was due to the desperation he was radiating, or if it was his usual tone.

Your left hand grabbed his right hand, placing it on your waist. "I was hoping you would be that lucky someone." Your white teeth accentuated the red rich, rosewood lipstick.

His other hand instantly grabbed your other side, dragging you closer to him while your hands rested on his shoulders. "May I get your name?"

You wanted to groan, feeling a little overthrown. You expected to have fun during this mission, have some sexual tension yourself. But the way his hands only pulled you closer, without teasing you in some way was telling you that Liam Zajicek didn't have as much experience with women as he did with hacking.

"Holland," You lied, not displaying such valuable information to someone who was a mere target. "May I get yours?" This time it was you pulling him closer, biting your lower lip.

His eyes sparkled, and if you had gotten a little closer, he would have thrust against you, rutting just there. "I'm Adrian." You tried not to scoff, knowing that he was also lying.

His hands went lower, moving towards your back. He bit his lower lip too excessively, and you tried to contain a roll of your eyes. His hips got closer to yours, letting you know that there was a bulge growing, although nothing prominent.

"So," His fingers relocated, grazing your back. "Such a pretty lady coming to a party like this one on your own?" The knife being held by your garter ached to be grabbed. "Is your dad one of those rich men?" He smirked. "Because that means it will be difficult to impress you, baby." The pet name sounded lame coming from him.

Before you could answer, the music switched. The melody was still slow, a little more sensual, and you saw people wandering around to dance with other people, bodies even closer than before.

"May I take her from you now?" A deeper voice interrupted your words. Looking beside you, a man's gaze was focused on you. The other men preferred to look at your cleavage while this one preferred to gaze into your eyes, at least for now.

Before you could answer, the black-haired man had glared at Liam, making him walk away, whispering that he would try and find you later.

"Do I know you?" You did. You knew him, and he knew you. However, you both wanted to have a little fun, ignoring the detail of recognising each other.

Mitch Rapp innocently smiled at you. "I don't believe so." You had seen pictures of him that your boss had shown you, and this wouldn't be the first time Mitch Rapp had the same purpose as you. He had shaved his beard and styled his quite long dark hair. "But I wouldn't mind getting to know such a good-looking lady."

You grinned. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to run down his chest, pressing against firm muscles. Not caring about your long dress, his left leg parted yours, resting in the middle, grazing the sides of your inner thighs. His left hand slid from your back, resting upon your butt, pulling you even closer. His face near yours, warm breath hitting your top lip while his lightly upturned nose rested against the tip of yours.

"You told him your name is Holland, uh." He smirked. His right hand was on the right side of your waist, pulling you even closer to the point where your core was placed directly on top of his thigh. "I thought I told you this type of dudes are the CIA's business, Y/N."

You smirked, tongue leaping out to wet your lower lip, accidentally grazing his bottom lip, which made him try and hide a grunt. "You know I like the excitement of ruining your plans. And if Stan gets mad, it's a plus." You grinned. "Plus my boss wants him."

"I'm going to have to teach you a lesson." He scoffed. "So disobedient, always making my job harder." You suggestively glanced at him, noticing that wasn't the only hard thing you provoked as his bulge was pressed against your core. He understood what you were implying, shaking his head. The hand that was resting on your butt went to the front, brushing your tummy while going down. Disappointment overflowed you as his fingers skipped the part you desired he would graze, going directly under your dress, grabbing the knife that was being held by your garter. "You changed the place of the knife."

"Couldn't have you finding it again." You whined as his cold fingers left your thigh, not taking the blade as he was confident you wouldn't use it against him. "But seems like you did."

"Leave this one for me, baby girl." He referred to Zajicek, knowing he will have to fight you to take you away from whatever your boss had ordered you to do.

"Do you know how much I will get paid for this, Rapp?" Your hands went up again, circling his neck to bring him closer. Your next words made your lips brush against his. "A lot of money, Rapp. More than you can imagine." Your gaze moved around, remembering what you were there for. Mitch Rapp had distracted you from your objective. "Shit."

The man that was keeping you close to him turned around, following your gaze until he saw Liam speaking to a man while glancing at you two. He had discovered that you both were there to get him. He swiftly pushed through people, trying to escape both of you. "Fuck." Mitch's hands left your body, stepping as quickly as possible, following Zajicek. You did the same, trying to ignore the fabric stuck to your lower lips, confirming the effect Mitch Rapp had on you.

You lost both of them, finding yourself in an empty hall, glancing around. It wasn't until you heard a thump that you knew where both men were. Rushing to a white and golden door, you were met with Mitch as he dodged a chair that was thrown to his head by Liam.

You quickly walked closer, jumping on Zajicek's back, arms tightly around his neck, trying to choke him. "Mitch, he is mine." Your legs around his waist, pressing your thighs against him, trying to weaken the lower part of his body. Nonetheless, Liam Zajicek used his elbows to hit your stomach, causing you to fall on your butt and back, your breath being kicked out of you.

"No way, baby girl." He grunted as he ran after Liam again. As soon as you were able to get up, you ran behind them, seeing them going inside another room, which seemed to be an office. Liam tried to kick a shelf. Mitch was strong enough to stop the entire shelf from falling on top of him, although he would have a big bruise on the back of his arm.

Liam's eyes widened as he understood how tough, and trained Mitch Rapp was, running to a door that was inside the office. Pulling it open, he was met with no exit. Mitch and you ran to the other chamber, which was a bathroom.

You quickly kicked Liam's chest with your heels, making him wail in pain, collapsing on his bottom. Mitch gripped the boy's hair, dragging him over the white porcelain bath, turning the water on, and splashing his face with the head of the shower until he was turning purple as he couldn't breathe.

"Where's the SD?" You asked Zajicek. When he didn't answer you, Mitch turned the water on again. But the boy resisted, not wanting to reveal his secrets.

Your hands rapidly moved around Liam's body, going inside his pockets until your fingers found a hard object. Mitch Rapp was too distracted threatening the hacker. It was your opportunity to flew from the room with the SD you needed. Proof enough for your boss to get the money from finding and discovering the ways of Liam Zajicek.

You rushed out of the bathroom, not getting too far as a hand grabbed your right elbow. You didn't have time to turn around as a rough body pushed you against the desk placed on the middle of the office. Your chest was tightly squeezed against the hard wooden surface, while a body was pressed to the lower part of your body. A hand around the back of your neck, keeping you in place. A veiny hand came to view, grasping the SD card from your grip. "Such a snake, baby girl."

"I repeat," You tried to get away from his grasp, unsuccessfully. "I like ruining your plans."

"Good," You heard him shuffle behind you, probably hiding the SD in one of his pockets. "It's my turn to ruin you." There was no time to proceed his words as both of his hands went to the cut on your leg, ripping the dress so he could see what was underneath. His cold fingers grabbed the knife, throwing it somewhere in the room. "No underwear." He grunted, hips colliding with yours, showing how desperate he was.

You moaned, using your elbows to hold yourself up. You turned your head to look at him, his eyes already on you. "Underwear looks horrible with such a delightful dress." His eyes slipped from you to look down at your folds. Seeing the satisfaction in his eyes, you decided to move your hips back, hitting his hips again, leaving a little damp mark on the front of his pants due to your wetness. His eyes went back to yours, holding your gaze as the fingers of his right hand teased your folds, not touching them completely, just grazing them. "Mitch, you better touch me right now. I swear to g-." Your words were interrupted as he conducted your wish. Two of his fingers rubbing the wetness of your pussy all over your folds, making you gasp and hold his gaze.

"So wet." His fingers left your core, making you whine. He placed his hand between your centre and the desk, his fingers going back to the sought place. This time, toying with your clit as the other hand ran up, grabbing your boob through the dress, squeezing, and pinching. "Fuck. How can you be so wet even before I started touching you."

"You always do the same." Your hips trapped his hand against the desk, riding his hand as he played with your clit. "You always get me all turned on, and then, you leave." Your right hand stopped supporting your weight, blindly going behind your body until it was wrapping Mitch's bulge. "How can you be so hard even before I touched you."

"Shut up," He groaned, a little smirk decorating his face. His hand left your clit as he felt how you fere fastening your peace against him. His other hand removing yours off his bulge. He rapidly unzipped his jeans, and after thrusting his hips a couple of times against yours, he lowered his boxers. His left hand pushed your face against the desk, keeping you there as the head of his dick caressed your wet folds. "We have no time, baby girl. We have to be quick." He pushed the head between your folds, teasing. "No time to eat you out, no time to have my dick deep down your throat, and no time to finger you." You could notice that he was talking with a pout on his lips. He finally decided to shove himself fully in you.

"Mitch," You whined. "Don't go all soft on me, please." The grip he had around your neck tightened while his dick went out of your pussy, just to go back inside at a slow pace. You were going to beg him to do you harder, and faster, but the ringing of your phone interrupted you.

"Who's it?" Mitch mumbled. As you wanted to ignore the call, you didn't answer, which made Rapp stop his slow thrusts. When you complained, turning around to peer at him, he had an earnest expression. "I asked you a question, kitten." Your legs trembled, and you were grateful that Mitch and the desk retained your entire body.

With shaky fingers, you clutched your phone. Hazy vision trying to guess the ID of the caller. "Stan," You answered. Mitch couldn't help but smirk at the chance of fucking you while your boss was on call.

"Well, kitten." His hips went back, going forward, roughly, fastening the pace. "No more foreplay for us." Mitch and you did this in every mission that Stan sent the both of you to. You both acted as if you were each other's competition, ending up fucking somewhere after capturing or killing your target. "Answer him, baby." Your eyes widened, and before you could talk, Mitch thrust a couple of times into you, fast.

"Y-yes?" You replied after sliding your finger on the screen of the phone to accept the call.

"You guys are taking more time than normal. Was there any problem?" His annoyed voice sounded over the line, making you both roll your eyes.

Your hand went to your mouth, keeping yourself from moaning while being on the phone. Mitch was going harder and deeper as possible. His balls hitting your clit every time he thrust. "W-we already have him, Stan. We will be back soon." Soon, you were going to cum soon, not being able to hold back from how quick Mitch was doing you. "We are taking more time as I lost my knife," You plainly lied. "You know how much I love that kn-." A loud moan interrupted your sentence, followed by a couple of more.

"Oh my god, you horny rabbits." Stan realised what both of you were up to. "Finish quickly, and come back with Zajicek." He hung up.

"You heard him, kitten." He pushed you even farther into the desk, ordering you to stay there. His left hand went to your waist, moving your body to meets his thrusts. His right hand found its place on your clit, expertly moving in circles until your knees were buckling. "Come on, baby. Come on." He groaned, knowing you were so close to your high.

He pressed his chest against your back, his teeth biting your ear, not scared to moan loudly, letting you know that you had the same power on him that he had on you. "I'm so close baby." You could feel his dick grazing places that could make any woman pass out from pleasure. His member pulsating in you, letting you grasp that he was close.

A couple more of thrusts and he was cumming inside you, the movement of his hips still hitting you, perceiving you were close. "Mitch!" Your mouth was open, and a trail of drool running down your chin as your body shook from how hard you were cumming. His load filled you up, and even after both of you had reached your highs, Mitch was still inside you, pressed against you while breathing hard.

"Fuck, even quickies with you left me all satisfied." He groaned, deciding to slip his dick from you, which made you whine as you loved being filled up by him. Now, you moaned, the mix of your juices falling down your thighs. "Let me go grab you a towel." He moved to the bathroom, to come back a couple of minutes later with a warm wet towel on his hands, not hesitating to gently clean you up, knowing you were quite sensitive after sex.

"Hey," Your eyes widened. "What about Zajicek?"

"He was unconscious when I came here as you tried to escape." He hummed, concentrating on cleaning you up. "But when I went back inside to get the towel, he was conscious, tied to the bath. He probably enjoyed you moaning loudly." He winked, making you feel flustered.

"Mitch Rapp," You groaned. "My dress it's all ripped. How am I supposed to get out of this party like this?" You pointed at the ripped dress he was guilty of as he couldn't wait until you unzipped it to be inside you.

"You will have to keep closer to me, baby girl." He grabbed you, dragging you closer to his body. Your hands ended up against his firm chest. "Hard again?" You chuckled, feeling his bulge on the lower part of your tummy.

"Wait until we get home, Y/N Rapp." He winked. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, Ms. Rapp."

Taglist: @og-baby-ob14 - @siwiecola - @linkpk88 -

People in bold means I can’t tag them.

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sebbybooks · 3 years

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Wreck My Daydream

Part Two

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

18+

Tagged🎄

@wayward-mikaelson

Cataglottism

(n.) kissing with tongue

I’m already wet and Sebastian barely even touched me.

I hardly gave myself a moment to be ashamed or even stir in the crass words I was using even if I had only thought them. Like a diary I suppose there was no need to lie to myself considering it was one hundred percent true. I, Nellie Lennox, was unabashedly met with unending desires that washed away my trepidations that led up to this moment.

In its place I felt this newfound sense of possibilities that I wasn’t actually making an ass out of myself with my sudden confession of feelings for Sebastian. In my defense I didn’t just wake up one morning after having some epiphany as to why I wanted to be with him. The thought of us together made itself at home in the back of my mind.

Almost like a what if. . .

However, I couldn’t help but be terrified of all the ways it could go wrong. What if I had made things weird between us forcing us apart? Life would be a bitter existence if Sebastian wasn’t around in some capacity. For the longest time I tried to find him in different relationships. It is a messed up philosophy, but it almost worked. Whenever things would get too serious it nearly terrified me. I was their someday and they were my maybe. I owed this last relationship that is still so freshly cut more than that.

I owed myself that.

On the unique and rare chance I somehow got lost in a very realistic maladaptive daydream, I’m pretty certain Sebastian wants this too. Just thinking about what he had told me seconds ago made my heartbeat drum to a dizzy rhythm. Imagining myself getting fucked to the beat of it was a completely different type of sensation.

Retraining my focus on the now I could see it in Sebastian’s face all the wheels going around in his head. Confusion? Uncertainty? Regret?

“You don’t get to do that.” I tell him. I felt like I was going to climb out of my own skin if he left me suspended in the silence for a second longer. Sebastian tipped his face closer to mine, our lips gingerly brushing against each other. Perhaps he was feeling ambivalent in regards of his feelings for me? After all this was sprung on him in the middle of the night.

Sebastian shook his head as if he was at war with himself. “I want to.” His voice was strained and dangerously low, like something was causing him utter misery being this close, yet not knowing exactly when to pull away.

“Then why don’t you.” I dared him.

I was growing impatient with this slow burn we had somehow started. I wanted to play with this fire. If I got burned in the end by his touch then so be it. At least I would forever be marked with a reminder of knowing that I at least went after something I wanted with no apology. I wanted to see how far he was willingly to go.

Sebastian removed his hand from the security of being wrapped around me. I feigned a disappointed sigh at the lack of contact. My entire body must have been on autopilot , because I didn’t recognize the position I was in. I practically sat in his lap with one leg wrapped around him and the other one mindlessly dangling over the bed. Of course the mind reader that Sebastian was naturally grabbed ahold of the side of my thigh and wrapped it around his back.

It wasn’t like I was naive to sex or never had my fair share of romantic conquest. Regardless of my experiences I still felt like a gigantic ball of nerves. The way he stared down at me with a heated look in his eyes as if he wanted to posses every inch of me. Hell, I felt like I could come undone from that alone.

The hand that was planted on my back slowly drifted downward trailing the curve of my backside gripping my ass through my thinly silk hunter green shorts that matched the top. Earlier I had berated myself for wearing scantly clad pajamas to bed. Now I am thanking my lucky stars I opted out of the option of wearing a red Christmas onesie that had polar bears wearing scarfs around their necks. They were ones my mother insisted the whole family wear.

If I had I probably would not have been able to feel his erection that was restrained in his sweatpants. Trying to situate myself closer I rocked into him slightly, massaging myself on him. My ears didn’t miss the subtle groan Sebastian let out from the feel of my weight pressing further into him.

His silence wasn’t lost on me and he still hadn’t answered my question so I did it again. I wanted him to say something. My nervousness abated at this point. I twined my arms around his neck, grinding myself against him again and again. All the while Sebastian watched my every movement with a hint of a star struck look in his eyes. The feeling was certainly mutual I was even shocking myself at my behavior.

“Nellie,” Sebastian finally says, voice husky. He usually only ever calls me by my nickname so I was more than sure that he was not fully himself.

“I’m a big girl Sebastian I can handle whatever you need to say.” I tell him, holding in my breath.

“Alright,” he said with uncertainty. “You and me, this, it’s not a good idea.” His tone was barely audible and even more so he sounded hurt. Everything in me froze.

“And why is that?” I asked him more confused than ever. Suddenly feeling absolutely self conscious as I over analyzed every intimate word I just shared with him. I was even more horrified by the fact that I was dry humping my best friend.

He let out a darkly laugh. “It’s pretty damn obvious Nells.” Sebastian says rather ominously.

“...It’s not actually.” For someone that wants nothing out of this, Sebastian was holding on to me like an anchor and I on the other hand just wanted to get away and sink.

Admittedly, I was losing this game of tug a war. There was only so much I was willing to endure even I had my limits. “You’re giving me whiplash Sebastian .” I tell him honestly, “ I’m not like those other girls you go for that are satisfied with you just dangling yourself in front of them like a piece of cake that I can’t have. I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t say it just to hear you say the same.” My voice could only rise so high in pitch.

I definitely didn’t want to wake up the upstairs guest that would love nothing more than to recap this conversation over breakfast. Then like an unexpected bolt of lighting startling you from a distance, Sebastian kissed me.

Sebastian

I am a selfish bastard.

My mind fell quiet when I looked at her. I wanted to swim in the serenity and peacefulness that was this smart, vibrant, sexy, and uniqueness this woman possessed. I only wondered even in the darkness could Nellie see my eyes as plainly as I can see hers. If so could she see the shame reflecting in them? I could feel the nagging weight of my conscience siting on both of my shoulders, arguing back and forth over what I should and shouldn’t do. It was kind of ironic that the devil in my ear insisted that I give in to the angel in my lap.

God knows I waited for her and that I would keep waiting if I had to in this lifetime or the next. It was always going to be Nellie for me. I wanted to tell her all of this, but the longer I held on to this slice of heaven I was given during this random hour. I also knew that this moment was fleeting. I basked in the way she looked at me, the way she held on to me like I was an object of virtue. I also got a sample of what it would be like to lose her the second she began to slip away on her own accord. So, I did what any poor fool would do in my position. I kissed her.

It wasn’t exactly suave or how I imagined it would go. My mouth sort of crushed against her unmoving lips in a rushed and unskilled manner. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what I was doing, I certainly could do a hell of a lot better than this. An yet, it was still like I predicted it would be, filled with pure unadulterated pleasure. Nellie’s lips were sweet and warm, exactly how I imagined forbidden fruit to taste like.

A perfect mixture of firm and softness that drove me wild. She flattened her hands on my bare chest as if to brace herself. Nellie pushed herself away, but her face was still so close to me. She didn’t speak and neither could I. I forced myself to look up at her and hoped that she could see I would do everything in my power to earn her forgiveness. That it was a mistake I will make right somehow.

“Nell,” I let out an exasperated breath. “ I have a need for you that goes deeper than just lust and I know that it will never truly be sated. The killer thing is I’m already at risk of losing you before I even had you.”

Nellie stared hazily up at me.“You already have me.” She whispered, our lips still grazing. Those four simple words set off a firework in me. This time when I kissed her our mouths came together like we needed to feed off of each other’s oxygen in order to survive. I’d suffer if I didn’t have it.

My mouth was greedy for hers, and I could imagine she felt the same. The moment I felt her lips slightly part open to let me in, less than a second our tongues slid together in a torrid and sensually slow pace. We kissed like a couple of eager teenagers. My heart threatened to leap from my chest when the tip of Nell’s tongue moved across my bottom lip. She tastes like gingerbread , mixed with some other divine flavor that I can only assume is Nellie. She arched herself closer into my chest and I could feel the points of her hardened nipples through her top. I seized the opportunity to press her body close because I needed more.

I wanted to feel the heat of her soft skin on mine. She returned her arms back around my neck tightly holding me in place as she angled her head kissing me back with the same ferocity. Deeply, and oh so thoroughly by the way she sucked on my tongue. I had a rough grip on her ass keeping Nellie steady as she straddled me. I was so damn hard for her. If my dick could get even harder it was bound to. Nellie did that thing again where she grinds down on my erection and I cursed at myself to not combust. I grabbed ahold of her hips guiding her to move faster, harder.

I kept telling myself to savor her, fucking take my time with this moment. I couldn’t just rip those tiny little shorts off and sink myself into her over and over until we’ve both had enough. But even then I would always need more of her. I wasn't a sentimental man, with Nellie I at least wanted to try. I wanted my first night with Nell to be a little less spontaneous than this. It wasn’t like I came prepared for festivities filled with endless fucks. Plus the added fact I couldn’t let things get too carried away especially since she still didn’t know what I have done.

Yeah, I am a very selfish bastard.

I didn’t want this to end. I wanted my mouth to explore every single part of Nellie. I wanted the taste of her to live on my tongue. I wanted to go as far as she and my consciousness would allow me.

“I need to touch you.” I panted, between every nip and kiss I left on the delicate area of skin under her jaw.

“You’re already touching me.” She says with a soft laugh, which was a melody to my ears. I was but at the same time I wasn’t. I needed to rid Nellie of any barrier that prevented me from branding her skin with my touch.

“This…off.” I tug gently on the bottom of her tank top before returning my hands to rest on her thighs, caressing them as I sucked on her neck for dear life. Going back and forth between grazing her neck with my teeth then licking over the area to soothe any imprint I’ve left.

Nellie crisscrossed her arms reaching for the hem of her top gracefully pulling it over her head. She purposely fell backwards onto the mattress aiming her shirt at my face. For as long as I’ve known Nell she was never one to be shy in her own skin.

“Imagine how unsexy that would have been if I hit my head on the headboard.”

“As long as you didn’t hurt yourself I would have just pretended that I didn’t see a thing.” I teased.

“Ah, to think they wonder where all of the good men have gone.” Nell scrunched up her nose pretending to be lost in critical thought.

I cock my head to the side. “Mm-hmm. Are you mocking me?”

“What if I am?”Her plump wet lips spread into a smile.

It was miracle I caught a word of what she said to me. I swallowed a groan as my eyes drift over the area of her body that was naked from the waist up. Nellie was clearly a stolen painting from the Louvre that I had no intention of returning. All I could do was stare.

With her legs still draped around me, my hands slide up the curve of her torso passing her ribs. I sensed that she was watching me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of her just yet. The pads of my fingers traced over to her breast and my mouth practically watered at the sight of them. She was ethereal.

“Don’t suddenly go mute on me Sebastian.” She let out a shaky breath.

I’ve heard her say my name a thousand times. Hearing her say it in this state created a feeling of warmth that filled my chest. I could only begin to imagine the different ways I wanted to hear her call out my name. My gift, my best friend, my Nellie. Those last words had a sting to them even as I thought them. Deep down I knew that was never going to be true.

I eased all the way down my tongue traveling around the dip of her navel. Creating a path up the center of her abdomen. I knew that Nell was extremely ticklish. The slightest form of contact would automatically turn her into a ninja. From the way she was pressing herself back into the mattress I knew she was trying her hardest not to flee. Of course I found it rather enticing so I made sure to spend extra time over the areas of her exposed skin I knew to be the most sensitive. Brushing the tip of my nose between her breast my mouth finally latched on to what I’ve been waiting for.

“So fucking beautiful.” I say as I graze my mouth over the stiff peak of her nipple. I was in awe over the ability that they simultaneously could feel hard yet felt extremely soft. I dragged the tip of my tongue around the bud of it in a languid movement before sucking it in deep. I loved listening to the sounds she made while I sucked and devoured as much as I could fit into my mouth. I wanted to hear a symphony of the noises that escaped from Nellie.

Going for one after the other not wanting to miss out on either. Nellie kept a limp hand pressed into my hair keeping me close as if I dared to stop.

Writhing underneath me Nellie gasped,“Touch me.”

Now she understood what I meant. My own body felt betrayed by my decision. I literally ached from pain and pleasure. Truthfully I wouldn’t opt for a better scenario than this. I would be more than gratified with giving Nellie an orgasm or two.

Still leaving featherlight kisses across her chest. With one hand I reach down and brushed along the dip of Nellie’s hip, then began to tug away at her shorts. To my surprise she was bare underneath. This was a new and uncharted territory we were crossing.

Tell me to stop, say that this is just the wrong time, tell me we would never work. Those words never escaped me, the sound of the goddamn doorbell intervened for her. My movements hesitated then shortly I picked up on inaudible chattering out in the hall. Nellie turned her head in the direction towards the door which I hoped like hell was locked. “Maybe we should go see what’s going on.” Her eyes widened.

“Or we could stay here and not shame the fact that I was two seconds away from wrapping your legs around my face while I tasted the slickness between your thighs. ” Nellie released a ragged breath and I meant every word.

To my dissatisfaction we were composed in under three minutes. I felt a strange sense of comfort and pride seeing that ever so often I’d catch Nellie looking in my direction smiling like she had some big secret she was bursting to tell. Which only made me feel like an even bigger asshole. The walk downstairs was surprisingly noisy. Someone had plugged the Christmas tree back up and there was a chilly wind breaking in as the front door came to an immediate shut.

Nellie’s parents were both moving around in a fast pace trying to find new spots to put a couple of suitcases. I had to swallow down a chuckle at the sight of their bold choice of pajamas. Nellie had already beaten me to the bottom of the staircase just as I rounded the corner of the spiral stairs.

“Cousin!” Vanessa squealed rushing over towards Nellie, who excitedly embraced her the same. They exchanged a few excitable words to each other that I tuned out. I was busy focusing on the six foot son of a bitch with a puppy dog expression on his face standing awkwardly behind them.

“Now you know Nells Bells you can’t have Christmas without good ole St. Nicholas can you?” She winked at a stone faced Nellie who just looked straight ahead at her ex boyfriend Nick. “I hope it’s okay I brought him over with me. I saw him at the airport dozed off in a chair.” Vanessa whispered as she leaned into Nell, like she just earned a gold star. Soon as Vanessa’s wild dark brown eyes caught ahold me I knew my bubble was about to pop.

“Something told me I was off the naughty list this year.” Vanessa bit at her glossed up lips and made a beeline towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She smelled like an overtly sweet perfume that tortured my sinuses. “Did you forget how to work a phone or what? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I miss you.” She cooed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nellie watching the two of us. This was my punishment.

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santiagogarcia · 3 years

Text

cold hands, warm heart

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x fem!Reader

Summary: Llewyn's cold and wet and he doesn't have a place to stay for the night, so you bring him inside. As one does.

Rating: E/M (18+)

Content warnings: explicit sexual content (unprotected p in v sex), recreational drug use (pot), strong language, reader has a broken foot, modern setting

Word count: 2.2K

A/N: This was my contribution for @sergeantkane’s Oscar Fandom (Valentine’s) Fic Exchange back in February. But since I was on a health-related hiatus, it got published on AO3. I’m finally posting it here. Obligatory: I’m more gifmaker than writer, English isn’t my first language, and my spelling is a wildly inconsistent combination of British and American.

For @wasicskosgirl

A flurry of pain-induced curses rises from two floors below and you peer down through the fire escape grille. A man, poorly dressed for the weather, with a headful of drizzle-softened Roman curls and a guitar case, nurses the stinging fingers of his right hand. They’ve narrowly escaped being amputated by the Allen’s heavy, faulty sash window. Yeah, Marty’s been meaning to ask the super to fix that.

“Hey,” you call down, your breath misting the frigid mid-February air, “you okay?”

He blinks up through snowflakes floating down like cherry blossom petals. “I guess?” He kneads his wounded fingers into the palm of his left hand. “Just so you know, I’m not breaking and entering. You don’t need to call the cops or anything.”

You know. You recognised him immediately. “It’s Llewyn, right?”

A frown knits his brows. Warily, he asks, “Do I know you?”

“Not really. I see you come and go every other week, though. Marty and Sue must really like you.”

“Like is a strong word," he says, with a snort. "I think they just have a high tolerance for my bullshit.”

Your baked laugh—too loud and girlish—echoes in the narrow alley. “Can you get in?”

He shakes his head. “Latch’s caught. Looks like I’m locked out.”

“They leave you a key?”

“They’re not that tolerant.”

It's not like you're shouting, but your voices carry in the close air and neighbours are already yelling at you to shut up. You laugh it off and wave Llewyn up to your floor.

He gives the window to the Allen’s apartment a forlorn, longing look—as if he just blew through Plans A through Z for the evening—and trundles up the rattling steel steps. His nose twitches when he gets to your platform and sees you wrapped up in an old comforter like a human burrito, nursing a hand-rolled joint. “That what I think it is?”

“It’s medicinal,” you say, innocently, nodding at the orthopaedic boot encasing your fractured foot and offer him the spliff.

He hesitates, like it’s some kind of trap, then shrugs out a ‘why not’ and sits beside you. “Llewyn Davis.” He offers you his hand, fingers poking out of frayed gloves.

You give them a cursory examination. “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage. Always hurts more when it's cold.” But, just in case, you don’t let go of his hand, incubating it between your gloves.

“That your professional medical opinion, Doctor…?”

He’s fishing for a name, which disappoints you, because you thought he'd remember. Most men remember the girl they get punched in the face over. “Dancer, not doctor," you correct, hoping it will jog his memory.

He glances at the boot. “Someone tell you to break a leg and you took them literally?”

“Funny. When you’re the wrong side of twenty-five old injuries start to add up.” You don’t want to embarrass yourself with the truth: that you tripped over your own feet.

Llewyn dips his chin into his scarf and wraps his free arm around his legs, prompting you to share your comforter. He huddles gratefully beneath it and you can feel the damp through your parka. “What happened to your coat?”

“I’m between coats right now. It’s—” He passes you the joint and tries a name on you that almost offends you. “Right?”

“Not even close. You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” Were you really that forgettable?

“Nonono—you're the pretty girl at the Allen’s New Year’s Eve party.”

You roll your eyes. That was almost smooth, except there were a lot of pretty girls at that party.

“Waitwaitwait, it’s—” His second guess is so close you decide to finally tell him who you are. A smile of recognition and realisation dawns on his face. “Yeah, that's it. I remember your boyfriend, too. Kind of a jerk, as I recall.”

“So were you,” you point out and Llewyn doesn’t disagree with you.

“I was kind of a sorry mess that night. I wouldn’t’ve hit on you if I’d known you were with someone. Your boyfriend gonna come out here and punch me for talking to you again?”

“I’m between boyfriends right now. And if it’s any consolation you were right about him: he was kind of a jerk.” But you don’t want to ruin your high by discussing your ex. You nod at the guitar case at Llewyn’s feet. “I’ve seen you perform a couple of times.”

“Yeah?”

“At Arliss and that place on West Twenty-Sixth—”

“The Owl Bar?”

“What a weird place.”

“I know, right? It’s almost creepy.” He steals a glance at you, looks away so you don't accuse him of staring. “Would I have seen you on, I dunno, like Broadway or something?”

“I was never that good of a dancer. I teach four-to-seven-year-olds the basics of ballet over at the Academy.” The snow’s coming down fast and heavy now and you brush the flakes crowning Llewyn’s curls. “Think we’d better get inside. You know if you don’t have a Plan B, you can stay here tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll figure something out.”

“Now?” It’s after midnight. “Llewyn,” you reason with him as he helps you to your feet, “unless you’re planning to murder me, my roommate and her cousin, it’s fine. Really.”

“You got a couch I can sleep on?”

“Couch is taken." You explain your roommate’s cousin has an audition at Julliard in the morning. Llewyn starts to say something about the floor being fine, but you cut him off. “You can sleep with me.” Shit, that came out wrong. “In my room I mean.”

◻️

It feels like you’re back in high school even though you’re a grown-ass woman and neither your roommate nor her snoring cousin would have any objections to you bringing someone home. You usher Llewyn into your cosy lamp-lit room and tell him to remove his clothes.

He blinks at you with lashes so stupidly long and thick you’re sure they brush his cheeks. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t mean all of them. Jesus. I’m gonna lay them over by the radiator, dry them out.” You grip a fistful of his sleeve. “I don’t know how many blocks you walked in the rain, but you’ll be lucky if you don’t catch a cold, or worse.”

Timidly, Llewyn shrugs the corduroy jacket off his shoulders. You won't understand until much later that it’s not being stripped down to his underwear that embarrasses him—he's not shy in that way. It’s your kindness. It’s unfamiliar to him; something he’s unaccustomed to navigating. While you hobble out to the living room as quietly as possible, he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed, figuring you’ll throw him a spare pillow and a blanket for the floor. So when you return and tell him he’s welcome to share your bed, he’s even more awkward and out of his depth. The floor is an option—whatever he’s more comfortable with (you make sure he knows that)—but you seem so comfortable and unbothered by his presence that he decides to take you up on your offer.

And it's not like either of you plan to have sex or that it even crossed your minds (well, maybe a little). It sort of just happens; born of an unspoken need that you both share, and it starts when Llewyn shifts restlessly and his hand brushes the skin at the small of your back where your tank top has ridden up.

“Jesus!” You stiffen beneath the duvet.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I wasn’t tryna cop a feel, all right?”

“It’s not that—Are your hands always that cold?” It feels like someone backed you against an icicle.

“I can put the gloves back on…”

But he doesn't need to do that. You reach behind you for his arm and wrap it around you, lacing your fingers through his and your body heat slowly does the trick.

“Better?” His breath warms the back of your neck and he shifts to close the space between the two of you.

“A little.” You squirm and clamp your thighs together to stem the first prickle of the heat that’s begun to throb between your legs—involuntarily pressing the curve of your ass into Llewyn’s crotch. He responds receptively, even before an apology has formulated in your brain.

“Can I touch you?” His voice is husky, filled with the gentle promise of sex and you’re immediately intoxicated by it. If you’re really honest with yourself, your attraction to Llewyn was instantaneous; you’ve wanted him since that New Year’s Eve party. You think you might have left with him if your dickhead of a boyfriend hadn’t made a scene and Llewyn hadn’t escalated things.

In answer you guide his hand down beneath the waistband of your pyjama bottoms and inside your underwear. Llewyn pushes into the V between your thighs to palm your cunt and you roll onto your back, hoisting your hips and ass to get your PJs and underwear down over your thighs. He thumbs your clit with skill and attentiveness, as if he were strumming at the strings on his guitar. The appreciative moan that escapes you is muffled as his mouth meets yours. Tonguing at the seem of your lips, he plunges a probing middle finger inside you. Blindly, you feel for Llewyn's boxers and tug them down over the swell of his ass until his arousal bobs free and you’re both half-naked.

“Fuck,” you hiss as he slides a second finger, knuckle-deep, inside your pussy. With one hand threading through his thick dark still-damp curls, the other takes his length and begins to stroke him.

“You want me inside you, dove?”

“Yes.” Fuck yes. You know he’s just as eager for you when he begins thrusting into your palm.

Llewyn withdraws his fingers to help both of you out of your remaining clothing and then grips the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance. Your petulant whine at his aching, teasing slowness is swallowed by a gasp when he finally pushes inside your heat. With a curse of tortured ecstacy, he fills you, his breath hot and damp against your skin. For an agonising moment that stretches unbearably, he stills—to let you adjust to him, to appreciate the delicious fullness—until you half plead, half order him to move. Llewyn doesn’t need to be told twice, rocking into you with shallow, measured thrusts that build to a feral crescendo; rough, hurried, balls-deep and cervix-bruising. He tells you how good you feel, how warm and wet and soft you are and your pussy clenches around him as if to draw him deeper, wanting him to hollow you out.

“Can I cum in you?” He’s close to his climax, breathing heavily.

You tilt your head to nod against his shoulder and moments later Llewyn loses himself inside you with a cascading, half-choked moan of release. The pulsing knot at your core unravels, the walls of your cunt spasming to send warmth and eye-fluttering shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. He fucks you through your orgasm, his pace slow and languid and sensual until you come down and he softens, his cum-smeared and pussy-slicked cock slipping out of you.

Llewyn shifts to your side, pillowing his head in the crook of your neck, arm slung across your breasts. Your bodies are sheened with cooling sweat and you pull the covers up over you before fisting your hand into his locks. A trembling sigh escapes him and his grip tightens around you, holding onto you like a drowning man hanging onto a buoy. Your bladder feels uncomfortably full and your cast-encased foot itches like a motherfucker but you don’t move. You don't let go of Llewyn Davis, either.

◻️

“You know I’m playing at The Small Blues Club tonight,” he tells you at the door, whispering because the Julliard cousin is still fast asleep on the couch.

“I did not know that,” you say.

“It’s over on Bleecker. You could come…if you wanted—that is, if you’re not doing anything. I don’t know what your plans are…if you have plans.” He rambles uncertainly. In the snowed-in, washed-out watercolour dawn there’s something diffident and a little standoffish about him; as if he knows the light exposes him for what he really is: a struggling musician trapped in a Kafkaesque existence, the future bleak as the New York skyline in winter. Probably not something a pretty ballet teacher with an apartment and a good credit score would be interested in. “Maybe I could buy you a drink afterwards? I know I’m kind of doing things ass-backwards but I'd really like to see you again. Last night wasn't just—”

“On Bleecker?” You rescue him from himself. He’s so wrong about you: you are interested. “What time should I be there?”

Llewyn scratches his forehead like you've surprised him with a complex math problem. “Any time after seven?” Like it's no big deal; trying to conceal his excitement the way people who are used to being disappointed often do. “That mean you’ll be there?”

“It’s not a date,” you warn, in your most serious teacher-voice.

“Oh, no,” he agrees, nodding along earnestly, “definitely not that.” It's his eyes that give that give him away: big and brown and puppyish, and smiling.

You both know it definitely is.

#llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #18+#*mine #*#*my fic

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lesbian-dp · 4 years

Text

Royally Fucked

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,271

Warnings: Misogyny, frustration, bath sex, strap on sex... p sure that's it.

Request: Yah.

Summary: The Queen will always be your world.

A/N: Just an FYI this is obviously set in the medieval times, so the reader is pretending to be a man, bc they’re a Knight. Just wanted to let you guys know that.

18+ ONLY.

“-A woman cannot rule on her own-!”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, near enough seeing your own brain, before you tuned out the dull drawl of the aged man.

His Royal Highness. Howard Stark. A pompous old git, who rules his kingdom with an iron fist. The man, who was currently ranting in front of each kingdom’s officials. All because, he was trying to wed his son, for his own selfish greed. And you. The Queens General and secret lover had to be there to witness it.

“I’m sorry you think that, you Highness.”

Ah! There she was.

A small smile tugged at your lips, hearing her husky voice.

Glancing out of the corner of your eyes, down to where Natalia sat regally beside where you stood.

God.

She was gorgeous.

How you ever got so lucky, is beyond you.

Her red layered dress, lined with the finest gold thread, the world had to offer, pushed her soft perky breasts up. Giving you a fantastic view of them, from where you stood above her. Your agile eyes were soon drawn to her plump, moving lips. Watching Natalia’s plump, moving lips. Watching them intently, remembering the look of them clasped around the crystal toy strapped around your hips. And the way they felt gliding across your wet core. How soft they were against your own lips. Moaning into your mouth, in a telltale way of what was about to come undone.

Spoiler alert! It was you guys!

Realising you had probably been staring at her beautiful self for minutes too long. You repositioned yourself, placing a hand upon the hilt of your sword, and staring blankly at the wall of the meeting room, in front of you. The door within your eyesight, able to see any and all newcomers, should they arrive.

“However, I would like to remind you of which of us are in their bankruptcy.”

“How dare you-?!” His face grew red with rage, light grey moustache and hair clashing, terribly, with the raspberry hue it had taken on.

“Watch your tone while you are speaking to the Queen,” you ordered.

“And I’d watch your tongue!” the King argued back.

Natalia placed her hand gently upon your leather-bound arm, just as you opened your mouth to shout a reply. Glancing down at the red-headed Queen, she shook her head, and you knew to hold your tongue.

“I’d rethink about who you appointed to be your head Knight. They’re obviously lacking in some basic training.”

“With all due respect, your Highness,” Natasha began, an entirely fake smile drawn upon her face, “My General is of the highest order. They live by the highest standards. And I respect them and their opinion. I can’t help it if you expect everyone but yourself to watch how they speak.”

“Now, General?”

You turned to face Natalia. “Yes, your Majesty?”

“Would you be so kind, as to personally escort King Howard from the castle. I think we have all heard enough for one morning.”

“It would be my pleasure.” You gave her a half bow, before moving towards the infuriated man.

***

Huffing, you slammed the door to the quarters the Queen had “gifted” you with. Reasoning that it would be better for her safety, if you were close by, in the castle. The royal quarters being only a few doors down from your own.

You kicked off your dirt-covered boots, as you threw your ornated sword across the room, and into the wall, in frustration.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

The voice to your side made you snap your attention to it. You knew that voice. You loved that voice.

There she sat.

The Queen.

Her legs were crossed, hands folded upon them. Watching you from her place on your bed.

“That sword was very expensive. And a gift from myself, if I might add,” Natalia said, the corner of her lip up turning slightly, as she cocked an eyebrow.

You sighed. Taking a step towards the red-headed Queen, you said, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

She waved you off.

“I don’t care about the sword,” she said, “I care about what has gotten you in such a foul mood,” Natalia finished with a pout.

You knew how bad she wanted to make you feel better. How much she hated seeing you any other way, but happy.

“They’re incompetent fools.”

Natalia smiled at this.

“The Trainies?”

“Oh, no!” You shook your head. The memories of your day, attacking your mind. “Not just the trainees- If anything, they’re better than most of the men we have now.”

The Queen stayed silent as you spoke. Listening to you intently, her face the only give to any reactions. Namely being a tick of an eyebrow, sometimes even both, and a roll of her eyes.

You drew closer to the beauty that is the woman you have devoted your life to serve. And now to love. However secret that may be.

“I swear. If we ever have the unfortunate luck as to be thrust headfirst into a war... I am afraid we might not survive.”

It was quiet for a moment, as the Queen debated her words. Right now, she was not Natalia, your Natalia. The woman who told you she loved you at the dead of night. The one who called out your name during the throngs of passion. The one who was soft to touch. Who’s skin was perfectly smooth against yours.

No.

This was the Queen.

All business, and took no shit.

The woman who did what she had too for the good of her kingdom, to keep her people safe.

“What do you need?” she asked, finally.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, now only a step away from her, “Time?” you asked simply. Before breaking out of your stress-induced trance. And closing the distance between you and Natalia. Placing a gentle, but firm hand upon her shoulder, you said, “But let’s not think about that now...” You leaned down, to be eye level with her. “I want to spend some time with, my Natalia.”

The Queen smirked at what you called her, it quickly turning into a soft smile.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Good.”

And with that, you lifted the shorter woman up into your arms, beginning to make your way out of the room.

“Now, I think, after the long day we’ve both had, we deserve a bath.”

***

The water was a milky white, red rose petals floating upon the calming water. The same water that swayed with every movement.

Gasps and moans filled the air, as the wet red-head bounced upon the blue crystal that was almost always strapped against your hips.

You said because it helped in making people believe you were one of the opposite gender. But mainly it was because of how much you love the availability to take the beautiful Queen, whenever, and wherever you two so wanted.

One of your bedchambers.

The throne room.

The dining room.

A random palace hallway.

Hell.

Even in the royal courtyard, if you so wished.

You watched Natalia’s silky wet body move on your lap. The water gliding against her body, her hair wet, and nipples pert. With your hands on her hips, helping her chase bliss. Then continuing to slide along her glistening body, pulling her closer to you.

Natalia panted as you left open-mouthed kisses all along her neck, them travelling up to her cheek, and finally her full lips.

With your arms wrapped tightly around her, one around her smooth shoulders, and your other around her waist. Pressing her against your body, as you kissed her earnestly, pouring everything you felt for the queen into that one kiss. Natalia’s arms wrapped around your neck, as she fucked herself onto you, kissing you the very same way.

“The bath’s starting to get cold,” you mumbled against her mouth.

“Then we should hurry, so that we can go to bed.”

“To sleep? Or...?” You rose your eyebrows. Once. Twice. To convey what you meant.

“Or.”

You smiled brightly at her.

Your lips were around her nipple in the very next second, sucking with enough power to make the Queen cry out. Causing her to buck her hips into your lap, faster than ever. Riding you like one would upon a station, on a long journey. Chasing her realise.

She jumped back in surprise when your hand connected with her small bud, rubbing away at it, but she soon continued to drive the object deep within her “sinful” hole.

It was not long after when she cried out in pleasure. Throwing her head back and crying out to the Gods.

Once Natalia had recovered, merely breathing heavy, with her head tucked into the side of your neck, you spoke.

“Let’s get to bed. Huh?”

***

Sat upon your calves the royal silky sheets rumpled beside you. Natalia’s legs thrown over your hips, and your hands gripping hers. Rutting into her. Drawing out her beautiful sounds.

How the powerful Queen could be reduced to this, you did not know.

You were only thankful that she chose you to reveal this secret side of herself too. Knowing how closed off she was to the world. If she even showed a thread of emotion, like she wanted too, on many occasions, other than her cold and calculated, yet caring self. The surrounding kingdoms would be out for blood.

More than they already were, that is.

“My lord, Natalia,” you husked, “You are beautiful.”

And she was.

She was beautiful, no matter what.

But right now, she was especially stunning.

With her hands gripping yours on her hips, her flushed chest rocking with each of your thrusts. The sweat, and remaining bathwater, making her body shine like the sun. Her mouth parted and gasping, and her eyes heavy-lidded.

You could go on and on about all the things you loved about the woman below you. For an eternity if you could. However, you were in the middle of something, as Natalia reminded you.

“I’m all yours, Y/N,” she spoke softly, “No one could ever compare to you.”

“Nor you, my love.”

Your hands on her hips tightened slightly. Helping her to lay in her stomach, Natalia moving to grip tightly on the silky pillow, pressing her face against it.

Her legs straddled tightly against yours, ass in plain view. The crystal resting on Natalia’s slick, wanting heat.

Groaning softly, you spoke, “There are no words in this world or the next, that could convey how much I truly do love you.”

The Queen hummed softly at your admission, her shoulders moving, and then relaxing with a sigh.

Your hands gently brushed down her silky back, until they reached her ass, caressing the plump asset.

“You were crafted by the God’s,” you said, adoration clear in your voice.

“Then why don’t you make me see them?” she replied, smirk upon her face, as she wiggled her ass to tempt you. The toy rubbing against her core.

And she did tempt you.

Of course, she did.

Pressing down on the crystal, you watched as it steadily disappeared into your loves throbbing head. Natalia moaned, as inch by inch, it vanished within her. Brushing against every crevice, drawing her high-pitched whines when it hit the special parts within her, bringing the Queen utmost pleasure.

With your hands now on her ribs, you slowly started to thrust into her. Working in drawing moans from her.

“Oh, God!” Natalia cried.

“Can you see them yet?” you asked playfully.

“Not quite,” she replied, matching your pants, as she backed herself u onto the toy you fucked her with.

“Guess I’ll just have to go harder.”

The bed was creaking below you, as you worked harder to pound into the woman you loved. Natalia's grip on the white pillow, patterned with red, tightened as cries poured from some unknown place, deep within her.

“Fuck! I love you, baby!”

“I love you, too, Natalia.”

She was close. She was oh so close. You could feel it every time you moved. Every time you pulled the crystal from her depths, only to push it back in, with vigour. It getting harder and harder to do.

“You’re close,” You stated.

Natalia nodded vigorously in agreement. Going to bite against the pillow.

“Don’t do that,” you told her, “I want to hear you, when you arrive.”

At your request, Natalia unclenched her teeth and allowed the pleasure-filled noises to pour from her mouth.

One of her hands snapped to one of yours that lay on her ribs, it surely leaving light bruises in their wake. Gripping at your hand, as she got closer to her much-anticipated release.

You couldn’t pull your gaze from her pleasure-filled face. Her hair sticking to her forehead, and around her ears. You knew that this would be her last orgasm, for a little while.

Pressing kisses against Natalia’s neck, jaw, and cheek. She came with a powerful cry. The hand not holding yours, came to grip the back of your head, fingers sliding through your hair, as her insides tightened around the toy.

You let her ride out her realise before you pulled from her.

With a tried sigh, you flopped down on the luxurious bed, besides the blissed-out royal.

“How you doing there?” Natalia nodded at you. As to say she was okay.

She came to cuddle into your chest.

Your hand was combing through her slightly damp, sex mused hair when the Queen spoke.

“I think it’s about time we came clean to everyone, about our relationship.”

“What?” you asked, shocked.

“Marry me.”

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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lotornomiko · 3 years

Text

The Broken Hearted Comfort Chapter Seven (Not safe for work)

Strong dubious consent warning in this one!!

There had been a moment where a kind of thrilling rush had spiked through her, a keen exhilaration that was expressed deep within her heart the very second when she had dared make her threat be known, Belle pressing the very dagger she had stolen from off of the pirate earlier, against his belly now. With its oh so sharp and deadly point digging into that firm flesh, there had been that split second moment of feeling, where her anger and outrage had overcome all else of what she had been feeling. The fear and its many uncertainties, Belle feeling empowered if not brave, trembling with a determination and the idea that had been inside, Belle thinking she would do whatever she had to, even threathen to kill if need be, if it meant coming away safe from the pirate’s molestion.

That strong feeling and determination would die in the wake of a reaction most unexpected, that split second a lingering extension of time where she had glared her angriest into Captain Hook’s utterly shocked expression. A blink and you missed it moment, in which Belle had thought herself victorious and completely untouchable now, the change that abruptly came over the pirate, then made her cheeks flush with an angry and embarrassed warmth, the color blazing on her skin as the man began to openly laugh at her.

He actually shook with that unrestrained attempt at laughter, Belle’s own anger and mortification spiking, as she realized that this man did not take at all seriously the threat that she had tried to pose to him. She’d actually turn indignant, an angry huff of air escaping her, but try as Belle might, she couldn’t stop shaking, the trembling such that the dagger she held against him was so dangerously unsteady. She was so close to stabbing him through on accident alone, and didn’t even seem to realize it. Not until his hand clamped firm fingers around her wrist, Belle practically jumping in place from her fright. He had moved SO fast, faster than she thought even possible, and all it would take is a stronger squeeze from him to cause her real discomfort or even a hurt strong enough to get her to let go of the dagger.

Not knowing that Hook had grabbed her in part to steady that trembling use of the weapon, the pirate’s storm dark gaze was positively alive and dancing with his amusement. "Oh, sweet..." Hook then breathed out, his voice practically a husky purr. "You've got to be more serious then that."

She looked confused in response, Hook’s smile becoming a non too pleasant thing at that, his eyes darkening, voice still so husky and ill matched with the seriousness of the words that he was saying. "You've got to be swift, and you've got to be certain, when intending to kill a man."

"I..." Belle took a shaky gulp, the words dying on her tongue before she could attempt any more.

"There's no room for doubt." That husky toned pirate continued. "You have to be sure of what you want. No hesitating when the strike is right there. Otherwise you'll be overpowered, disarmed, and WORSE."

From the troubled look that darkened on Belle's pretty face, Hook thought that he could easily guess what it was that she considered as the worse. She was in part misguided, the pirate instinctively understanding that she had no real idea of just how bad things could become, of how much more grave and dire it would have been if the young woman had tried to bluff her way out with a dagger drawn on anyone other than the captain that so desired her. His crew would have had a field day, especially that of the men, more than a few having openly admired her, before their leader had turned so feral with his own possessive rage.

Without someone to protect her, without Hook, Belle would have left herself be open to even worse molesting than anything she might have imagined him having in mind. And if by chance, she somehow nerved herself to do the unthinkable, to actually take his life, or even just injure him badly, he doubted anyone would stop the crew from rioting and unleashing their brand of justice on her as punishment. She needed to be warned, to know first hand that this was not an option, that escape of any kind was not hers for the taking.

His amusement hadn’t sobered one bit, but it was a kind of twisted enjoyment he took in the idea of crushing this aspect of her fight for her. Belle still hadn’t released that hold of hers on the dagger, and yet Hook could feel how badly she was shaking through the steel grip that he maintained on her wrist. She tried to play it off, to act as if her violent trembling wasn’t quite so bad, but for all her anger and spirit, she was more troubled than anything by his laughter at her expense.

With a steely tone of voice, that was every bit regal and used to commands being heeded, Belle all but snarled her outrage at him. “Let go of my hand.” She said. “And we will see how little I hesitate this time!”

"Ah sweet, I see your time as the Queen's prisoner did little to douse out your own inner fire." Hook all but grinned at Belle. "But before you be gutting me....answer me this. Just how do you plan to fight your way past all of my crew? Pirates who are blood thirsty and sex hungry on the best of days, who will be wanting to avenge my untimely death?"

What was left of her fight surely died then and there at those words, Belle’s face taking on an ashen look of horror. She had actually blanched at such a question, the woman’s horror so palpable a thing. He might almost feel sorry for her then, but Hook was just as ruthless a pirate as any other man or woman aboard his ship, and he hadn’t forgotten that little fact.

He couldn’t resist teasing her, offering up a suggestion that he would quickly dash all hope of. “Well, now, I suppose after stabbing me, you could always try to fit through one of the window portholes. You are after all small and slim enough….curves aside...” He let an insolent look touch down on her breasts, before relentlessly continuing the torment, the lesson that she needed instilled in her. “Ah but providing you even KNOW how to swim, let us not forget there is all kind of nasties that lurk in these waters. A great many fishy monsters just waiting for the chance to take a bite out of a delectable piece such as yourself...”

It didn’t seem possible, and yet Belle’s skin, its color had actually worsened in response to that which Hook had been saying. As did her shaking, her body in quivering motion from head to toe. Pity blossomed within him with enough strength to make Hook want to gather the young woman close to him in a show of comfort and reassurances. He had to be sure though, that the lesson, the fear was properly in her, the pirate trampling on his own protective impulses, to instead offer yet another unappealing outcome that Belle could end up facing.

"And then there's always the Queen. As you have been so quick to point out, she'll be looking for you."

"She'll be looking for me regardless." Belle spoke in a whisper, looking that much closer to being defeated.

"I can make sure that she doesn't find you." Hook said it casually enough, though his breath was almost held in the hopes of a favorable reaction from her. One he did not get, the fear that she felt, that he helped worsen, couldn’t quite break her spirit, when it came to the price that he wanted. The price she was in no way prepared to pay, Belle’s eyes flashing with an upset that had nothing to do with her bluff being called, and everything to do with her disdain of him.

"For a price no doubt." She hissed, her chin lifting stubbornly, with a haughty kind of air to the motion.

"Just wanting my reward." Hook answered, unflappable in the face of that, or any other manifestation of her seeming dislike and ingratitude.

"Your reward?!" The way that she exclaimed those two words, made her voice and very manner come off as downright scandalized. "Even if I thought you deserved one, you expect too much from me!"

“And just what is this too much that you say I be expecting?” The pirate inquired. “A reward for a rescue is good form after all, and you more than owe me...”

“I owe you nothing!” She retorted, having yet to let go of the dagger’s hilt, or to stop her bad shaking. “I never asked you to rescue me...and you certainly didn’t do it out of any good intentions, you selfish, overbearing oaf!”

That last unsettled him, Hook wondering just how close she was to guessing just how badly he needed her. That motive, lacking any real rhyme or reason for how it had happened, and yet it had selfishly driven him to go after her. To take her, to outright steal her from the Queen’s grasp, and there was no true or pure reason behind it, Hook just wanting what---the WHO that he had been in so desperate need of.

It might gut him to admit just how badly, at least to her, the woman that was the highly sought after object of his twisted obsession. Wild for her, in a way that he couldn’t make sense to himself, let alone to HER, the truth of the pirate’s need for the beauty, might well be one that he took to his grave.

“There’s not many a man, hero or otherwise, that does anything in this world, without expecting to gain something from it. Be it money, or women, or fame. I don’t see why I must be so maligned for at least openly admitting MY reasons for undertaking such an endeavor.”

Belle’s eyes flashed, her pretty little lips starting to shape a retort he wasn’t in the mood to hear. He squeezed a gasp out of her instead, fingers clamped down hard enough that the lady finally let go of her hold on the dagger. In a swift move, that had it clattering harmlessly to the floor, the palm of his hand then cupped her cheek, a gentle, almost reverent touch, the pirate trying to guide her in for the kiss he was angling for.

With Belle up on tip toe, the pirate bent over his prize, their lips almost touching. Such a feather light caress, every word that he breathed out to her, literally felt by the brown haired beauty. “You gave yourself to me once...” He spoke as a way of reminding her, his eyes intent on hers. “Willingly, and freely even…:

He got the briefest of touch, and the satisfaction to go with it, before she snapped back her answer, shaking free of the palm cupping her cheek. “And I have been regretting it ever since!”

There was a real shade of anguish in her eyes, a haunted expression there that spoke of how extreme a distress Belle had found it, and had found HIM. He still hadn’t caught on to the damage done, to just how badly he had and continued to frighten her so, Belle all a quiver and it wasn’t desire that coursed through her at all. Lively though she was, the woman was also so pale skinned, trying to twist free of him, and settling for shoving at him with her own two delicate hands.

He was upset in turn, fighting back a snarl, that wicked and vile curse an expression of HIS frustration and worry. Even if he thought that Belle was overreacting, it left him with a very real problem, the pirate wondering just how in the world would he ever convince her to let him bed her, without a use of true force. Coercion and the gratitude card, the reward that he felt that Belle owed him, had all fallen flat at the attempt at using them as a convincing argument.

He just couldn’t understand, couldn’t come close to comprehending her own doubt and misgivings. It was inconceivable, the idea that he could have hurt her this bad, the man not realizing it was no longer just about the night in the alleyway, but the fear he had birthed within her with all of his bad behavior inside the Queen’s tower.

No closer to knowing of that fear’s existence, let alone having the means to understand and combat it, it was a mix of his curiosity and the frustration that got the better of him. With a tilt of his head, with an almost wounded look in his dark gaze, Hook didn’t have to fake the soft, almost hurt tone of his voice.

“Was it really THAT bad for you?”

Her answer was immediate, her eyes wide with her disbelief, the woman shocked by the question. As though she hadn’t expected him to ask her that, hadn’t thought he would have the nerve, Belle hissing back a question of her own. “You have to ASK?!” Not that she let him answer that, Belle all but shouting, “Yes, you brute, YES!”

For one frozen second, Hook reeled in place, wondering if there was a true chance of the possibility that he had hurt Belle worse than even he had first realized. He did a kind of grimace that was half a frown, the pirate trying to remember better that night in the alleyway, to think past the remembered feel of her, and the pleasure he had taken for himself. She had been crying, he was certain, though the rain fall had been such, that it had been hard to make out the tears. But there had been no missing the red rim of her expressive eyes, or the wounded look of her expression. Her trembling lips had shaped the sounds of discomfort, and even a plea or two, but he had been so lost, so utterly consumed with ALL that HE had been feeling.

Searching his memories further, he remembered how she had stumbled, for one moment too unsteady on her own feet to stand without the aid of another. Without his hand steadying her, and then she had slapped him, with the full force of her strength. She had run off after, and the fact that Belle had been able to walk at all, had been a good sign, hadn’t it? A sign that he hadn’t done as bad as he could have, her virginity ruined but not that of her body.

But now? Gazing down at the defiant and distressed young woman, the beauty wild in her struggles to get free of him, it began to make Hook doubt just what he had witnessed in that alleyway. She had lurched away from him on unsteady legs, but maybe that running away she had done, had been nothing but a mask to disguise just how badly she had truly been hurting. Because injured or not, sometimes sheer desperation caused a person’s body to do things it might otherwise not have been capable of, Hook remembering how he had attacked Rumplestiltskin, even after the monster had chopped off his hand. Rage had fueled him then, that and the desire to see Milah avenged. But what could have fueled Belle? Hurt alone might not have done it, suffering as she had been, as still now was, Belle intent on getting away from him. On escaping the villain who had inflicted his own permanent scar on her heart.

He frowned with that thought, with the idea of it, Hook able to admit to himself he had done his fair share of damage to the lass. He was still limiting his misbehavior to just that night, unable to comprehend doing anything else wrong. At least now he could speak the words that might be coming a little too late, the frown deepening on his face as his tongue faltered. “I’m...” That hesitation there, it was born of how uneasy he was, Hook not a man used to apologizing even when it was well deserved as it most certainly was in this case. “I’m sorry…”

Her struggling abruptly halted, Belle’s whole body seeming to stiffen in response to those words. She did not immediately move to accept such a shoddy attempt at an apology, but neither did she moved to outright reject it. Instead her eyes met his, that gentle blue still wearing keenly her distress. She searched his gaze, as though to test his sincerity, and for one beat of their hearts, he was absolutely serious. But it was almost as if he couldn’t help himself so wild with need for her, that he couldn’t leave things on so somber a note, or even behave. With his eyes taken on an intense smolder of a look, with his voice holding a cajoling element to it, he tried for the seductive, his hand again cupping her face.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Eyes back to suspicious, Belle could only maintain a wary silence. He should have heeded it too, the quiet that she snubbed him with, a warning to be cautious. Unable to tread carefully where she was concerned, the very next thing that came out of his mouth, was a blatant proposition. A sexual entreaty that showed how little he had thus far learned.

"Let me show you how much better sex between us CAN be."

Her lips had parted in her absolute shock, Belle seeming almost speechless in response. And then her gaze narrowed, not quite a glare managed, as she found her voice. "You, Captain..." She hissed in her most frostiest of tones. "Are outrageously misguided if you think that is in any way an apology a LADY like myself can or would ever be willing to accept. I don't know what kind of woman you are used too, but you will find that I am a different class all together."

That much he did not doubt, Belle indeed different. Far more beautiful and stubborn than most any other woman, she was making him crazy with his inability to seduce her into his arms. He didn’t come close to better understanding why it was proving so difficult, and normally this much of a challenge might have thrown him off the hunt. There had and was always other women to be found, ones that were eager and willing to join him in spreading their legs. But none of those other women, be they paid whores, or willing lovers, had ever had even half as intoxicating an effect as this pretty little brown haired wench has had on him. An almost drugging influence, she was like a siren that had caught him in her clutches, such a soothing enchantment worked upon him, and Hook would be damned thrice over before he let Belle refuse him anymore.

The weeks spent apart, all those fantasies alive in his head, it felt like they had been apart for just short of forever, and his lust was at a breaking point. With the desire flooding his veins, with his temper just this close to bursting, and his patience not only short, but at an end, he caught out and pulled her in. He had one satisfying moment of seeing a startled blue giving over to her panic, and then Belle was beating at his chest. She had realized it a moment too late, that Hook was done with the talking, with his attempts at reason and cajoling. She cried out, no more a threat with her fists, than she had been with that dagger, Belle knowing even without his scare tactics, there was dozens upon dozens of reasons why she would have never been able to go through with actually killing this man, With killing ANY man, and it had little to do with the fact that there was no real escape for her, and everything to do with the type of person she was. A kind hearted soul, one who simply didn’t have it within her to murder anyone in cold blood. She was simply too soft a heart, unable to truly hurt or treat anyone maliciously, not Rumplestitlskin, not the Queen, and certainly not even the pirate who so threatened her now.

She’d always be a victim, Belle realized, so long as she felt that way. Hindered by her own brand of mercy, that killing instinct that she lacked, Belle now knew what Hook had known from the start. That any weapon that she might try to pull on him, or on anyone else, would only be as a good as her bluff. A bluff that would never get stronger, so long as Belle wasn’t ready and willing to do a killing blow, and Hook knew and took advantage of that weakness.

She still tried to scream her way free, struggling ever more wildly, as he carried her off towards his bed. “Unhand me!” But her voice was pitched too high with fear, the woman unable to put any real authority to her demands. They were simply as overpowered as she was, Belle finding her fight mounting, heart racing at an alarming rate over what she expected to happen in just a few short seconds. That fear made the anticipated hurt seem all the worst, Belle so scared of the pirate who held her, his eyes wearing so dark and hungry a look. That blue was devouring her as though she was already naked, that smoldering color all rife with masculine desire and intentions. He was uncaring of her struggles, of the protests she let loose with, a single minded focus there that was far too disturbing in how much it fixated unwavering on her. Caught by it, by HIM, even Belle was starting to realize that something more was going on then what was at hand. Pirates may have a strong lusting reputation, all dirty and underhanded where women and their thieving were concerned, but this went beyond that, beyond all the stories.

It wasn’t right, HE wasn’t right, looking at her that way, both like he wanted her and that she was his entire world, Belle couldn’t claim to at all understand it. And this unreal and abnormal situation didn’t leave her much room to try, Belle lacking the luxury of the freedom to try and think her way through to comprehending what was truly going on with him.

She was worse off then that, unable to think or reason her way out of such a situation. The panic continued to build inside her, and for all those uneasy realizations that she had had, it didn’t take even a minute for Hook to reach the large bed in the center of the room. She was deposited onto a very firm mattress, with only minimal give towards the softer parts of it. She tried to sit up, tried to scramble away, but he was on her in a second, Hook’s hand never leaving her as he moved to join her on the bed. Belle was aware of saying things, of making a great many attempts that went ignored. The pirate was simply too determined and demanding, too focused on his own needs and desires, to pay any true attention to hers.

Situation still so unreal, Belle quickly closed her eyes to shut out the way that the pirate continued to look at her. But it left her other senses spiking, picking up the slack left over from her lack of sight. She could smell him better than ever, a clean scent of the sea and his leather, with a hint of masculine arousal that seemed to grow even stronger. Worse yet was that of touch, his face nuzzling the crook of her shoulder, so that she felt his firm lips kissing there, along with the raspier sensation of his beard hairs on her skin.

Belle nearly jumped out of her skin when the pirate moaned into her shoulder, the sound so blatantly sexual. His arm with the hook had looped around her waist, holding her fast while leaving his hand free to touch her. And touch her he did, skimming his fingers from her collar to down between her breasts. Belle was sure that if the pirate were to shift his hand just right, he'd feel the frightened, wild beating of her heart.

It only grew worse, Hook touching her legs now. It was a full handed caress, palm and fingers called into play as that hand moved from thigh to knee, then back again. Each sweep of his hand, caused her tunic to ride up higher, until finally she lay exposed save for the panties that Belle still wore underneath the prison garb.

Her breath hitched in her throat, when he laid a possessive hand over her there, with only the thin fabric of her panties to serve as barrier against the scalding touch of his skin. She couldn’t be brave any longer, her spirited self lost when the tears begin burning their feel in her eyes. Belle practically choked on a sob, such a weak and hysterical note escaping her throat. Her eyes stayed closed, shut so tight that she didn't see the reaction that the pirate had had to that choked out sound, nor was she able to comprehend the hesitating quiver of his hand, his fingers pausing from their blatant caressing.

"Are...." She could almost imagine him frowning. "Are you crying?"

Belle said nothing, didn't so much as nod or shake her head. But she trembled all the same, shaking and shivering as though caught up in a storm. She was so cold, and yet was burnt from wherever he had touched. Scalded by his lips, branded by his hand, and made crushed under his weight. It was all too much, the tears were then falling, the pirate having gently brushed his fingers over her shut tight eyes. Belle then heard him curse, and when she dared peek open her eyes, she saw him staring not at her, but at his fingers, with that of her tears glistening on the tips.

Hook's eyes no longer glinted with that ravenous look. Instead the pirate simply looked confused, as though he couldn't understand, could not comprehend why anyone, why Belle herself would be crying in this kind of situation. Nor could Belle understand Hook's reaction to her tears, why they would affect him to the point he'd actually stop mid way through his molestation. He'd actually frown, bringing those tear stained fingertips to his lips for a brief taste. And then their eyes would meet, Hook staring at Belle for a long moment, before letting out a stream of vicious curses.

Flinching, Belle saw how Hook reacted to even that. His hand would cup her cheek, his lips parting to say something. He seemed to think better of it, abruptly drawing back so that Belle was free of his touch completely. She quickly scrambled to put even more distance between them, not trusting him in the slightest. Her heart continued to hammer fast in her chest, almost hurting her with its frantic beats.

There was another one of those moments, where so many things went unvoiced between them. Hook stared at Belle, actually looked her over from head to toe, his eyes showing the struggle within him. He still wanted her, still wanted to bed her, but was also made disturbed by her tears. She didn’t understand, but neither did Belle make any attempt to wipe them away, aware that they might be the only thing keeping her safe from Hook's lusts.

Hook for his part, was shaken by the protective instincts that had been roused by the sight of Belle's tears. By the needs that insisted he comfort not scare her, that told him to take her in his arms for no other reason than to hold and reassure her. It was weird and practically unheard of, Hook the type to ignore or laugh at any weeping female. And yet with Belle, all it took was a few tear drops spilled and he was made undone, Hook at last realizing just how badly he was frightening her.

That fright couldn't cool down the fires of his loins completely. Hook still wanted her, was still obsessed with Belle, with the having of her. But it no longer seemed quite as appealing, to force his attentions on her so explicitly. The tears put everything into new perspective, made Hook realize how very bad his idea to show Belle by force how good sex between them could be, had truly been.

It left him to feel downright embarrassed, but also angry that his fantasies weren't playing out the way that he had imagined them to. That Belle herself wasn't acting the way he had come to expect, the way that he still needed her to. She wasn't supposed to cry, and she wasn't supposed to be scared. Her anger while unpleasant, seemed infinitely more manageable, than this tear streaked lass who shivered and shied away from his every touch.

When Hook had brought Belle to his bed, he had thought it all but a given conquest. She would resist, but as he continued to caress, stroke and kiss her, her protests would melt away. Until she was panting with need, and all too willing to spread her legs for him. Instead the very actions that were meant to seduce her into submission, had only made things worse, Belle scared and CRYING.

Hook still wanted Belle. Still wanted to do all the things he had fantasized about, to finish what he had attempted to start just a few minutes ago. But he was also realizing it mattered to him that Belle not be scared, that she would enjoy and want him back. But it was also adamantly clear that it wasn't going to happen today, or tomorrow, and God help him--them both, if it dragged on for more days than that. Because Hook felt near his limit, felt he could hold back for only so long, before he messed things up completely.

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To Be Continued....

8/30/2021 Updated, with various segments tweaked and rewritten.

---Michelle

#once upon a time #ouat #captain beauty #Captain Hook #Belle #Killian Jones #Killian X Belle #Captainbeauty #fanfiction #fanfic #the broken hearted comfort #season 2 cannon divergence #smut #romance #strong dubious consent issues and themes

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 4 years

Text

Wicked Game (Part 3)

Word Count: 25K total The first part is about 5K, part 2 is 7K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Part 1

Part 2

Ashton jumped at the sound of the buzzer. Calum sent him a text telling Ash he was on his way so he knew he was coming, but he was so jittery it startled him anyway. He checked the time, 5:15 pm. 35 minutes to get here? That's good he doesn't live too far. Ashton held a bottle of cologne up and away from him, released three quick spritz into the air before walking through the cloud of fragrance. He made his way out of the bedroom, pausing for one final glance in the mirror. He brushed the soft brown curls off his forehead, his eyes reflexively checking his hairline. He silently thanked Hima for convincing him to get treatment. You could barely see the previously thin spots. Don't keep him waiting. You're ready for this.

Ashton opened the door and barely caught himself from gasping out loud. Hot Damn. His chest fluttered in a rush as his throat constricted. He didn't know where to look. Calum was holding a gift basket with three flavors of Ashton's favorite hot sauce but that wasn't what had his mouth watering. His eyes landed on Calum's hands holding the gift before trailing up to where his bronzed biceps disappeared into a crisp, red short-sleeve button up with one of those black tank tops he favored. His gaze lingered on the small gold necklace nestled against Calum's throat before dragging his eyes up to find the other man watching him with a shy smile.

"Hima said this was your favorite," Calum blurted out, pushing the basket into Ashton's chest.

"It is, thank you so much. Please come in," Ashton blushed hot pink as he gestured for Calum to follow him into the apartment.

Calum got a whiff of Ashton's scent as he turned away from him, causing his spine to tingle at the memory of the missed opportunity that night in the club. His eyes followed Ashton's broad back, unable to resist a quick glance at his tight little butt. Hima mentioned her boss's daily yoga routine, and the black jeans he had on left very little to Cal's imagination. Pay attention Hood. You're here for an interview, not to get laid, he reminded himself. Por qué no los dos? a tiny voice asked that definitely wasn't from his brain.

Ashton was equally grasping to get his thoughts together, but having Calum in his house made everything much more real.

"Go ahead and have a seat," he motioned for Calum to sit down at the bar while he entered the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink? I have pink lemonade, mango infused sweet tea, and wine."

"Sweet tea sounds good. I'll have that if you don't mind," Calum sat on one of the tall stools facing Ashton in the kitchen.

Ashton garnished the drink with a slice of fresh lime, and Calum grinned as he handed it to him.

"Always the artist," Calum remarked. "Hima was going on about that. She's very observant, and you're lucky she loves her job because she'd make an excellent reporter. I might steal her away yet."

"Good luck getting past her mom," Ashton giggled. "All of them really, she's got a twin brother who's crazy overprotective and more cousins than I can count. My family was just me, mom, and the kids so it's a bit much."

"Where's your family from?" Calum asked.

Ashton leaned against the kitchen island, his eyes fixed just above Calum's head.

"I was born in Sydney, Australia. My dad fucked off when I was a baby, and my mom moved us around a lot. She got remarried when I was ten and had my brother and sister. We moved to the US soon after, and when they moved back I was a junior in high school, I decided to stay here. That's when I got a job in a kitchen doing dishes and grunt work."

"Did you know right away you wanted to be a chef?"

"Hell no," Ashton laughed. "I was miserable and living with three guys in a grimy apartment. I was trying to go to school and worked till close most nights. I got into a really bad fight with one of my roommates. He was a big, ugly bastard, ignorant homophobic piece of shit. He accused me of stealing his weed and attacked me. I was in the hospital getting stitches when my boss showed up and dragged me home with him. They put me up in the basement, bought me a bus pass, and he gave me a raise. Did you ever get to eat at Bordeaux?"

Calum shook his head. "Never had the money or the clout. Didn't they sell it?"

Ashton stepped up to the sink to wash his hands, setting his rings in a crystal tray on the edge of the windowsill. "Yeah, after his heart attack, his wife Brigitte made him give it up. She's a force of nature, that woman. She taught me everything I know about baking and pastries. Baking is when science meets art. Cooking leaves wiggle room; you can improvise. But baking doesn't allow for carelessness or impatience."

He dried his hands before he pulled an object out of the fridge and placed it on the counter, unwrapping the plastic wrap.

"I made mushroom Wellington for dinner, and getting the puff pastry dough right takes time. It's an all-day process because every couple of hours you have to roll it out and fold it so the butter gets folded layer over layer. That's what makes it rich, fluffy, and delicious. There's no way to shortcut that." He placed the pastry in a shallow baking pan and pulled a small bowl out of the fridge. "I'm brushing it with egg wash so it'll get nice and golden brown in the oven." He pulled out a small knife from the block and twirled it between his fingers. He narrowed his eyes, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he concentrated, making several small quick shallow cuts. He grabbed a couple of bottles and carefully sprinkled seeds and spices on the surface before looking back up at Calum.

The intensity in the other man's eyes stopped him short. "Am I talking too much?" Ashton asked, feeling his face flush yet again.

"No, not at all. I uh, almost forgot I'm supposed to be interviewing you," Calum stammered a bit, embarrassed to be caught staring. "So tell me, where did you go after you left Bordeaux?"

As soon as the words left his mouth Calum wanted them back. That would be when he met Luke, you dumbass. Of course, his brain was a step behind his mouth. To his relief, Ashton shook his head with a sharp laugh.

"Yeah, that old story. Why don't you tell me a story I don't already know?"

Ashton pulled another pan from the fridge and set it next to the oven. "Both of these have to bake for about thirty minutes. You can tell me a little about yourself while I make the salad. I don't like to talk while I'm using a knife, but I'm a great listener."

"Are those figs? I'm starting to think you're trying to impress me," Calum's eyes crinkled in a smile and Ashton's chest fluttered once again.

"Maybe I am. Is it working?" Ashton spoke before he thought about it. Ooh, look at you flirting.

"Oh it's working alright," Cal's voice took on a husky edge that gave Ashton a victorious little thrill, knowing he wasn't imagining the heat between them. "Do you need me to help with anything?"

Ashton smirked, dirty thoughts racing through his brain. His dick twitched in his pants, eager for Calum's help, but then those dark eyes went wide as he realized what he said. The reporter nervously licked his lips and looked away while Ashton gripped the countertop to keep his knees from buckling.

"I'm good, thanks," Ashton replied, needing to keep Calum at a distance if he wanted to have any concentration to make it through dinner. "Are you trying to get out of talking about yourself?" He cut a thick slice off the largest fig, speared it, and offered it to Calum off the point of his knife.

Calum plucked it from the blade and popped it in his mouth, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he chewed. Ashton had to cough to suppress a whimper at the sight, his jeans now uncomfortably tight.

"One of the best things about being a reporter is not having to talk about yourself. My mom taught me to choose my words and my friends carefully. However, to be a good journalist, I have to be able to completely open myself up to each experience while not making it about me. I want to be the reader's guide to the story, not the star of my own show. I leave the primadonna bullshit to my coworker Felipe, or someone like Kevin Mackie."

Ashton chuckled, "Did you see his review of Anne-Marie's? Ass-kissing prick, he's banned for life."

"Did you really throw him out of your restaurant? What did he say?,” Calum leaned forward, eager for details. “Hima wouldn't tell me. I wish I could've seen that."

"She doesn’t know it all. I didn’t want to tell her, but he insulted her personally. He even managed to be racist and condescending while doing it. He's a twat. I was willing to grit my teeth and endure it because it's Mackie, and we all have to deal with him, but you’re not going to insult my friends. I can't even think about it without getting angry again" Ashton spat out the words and Calum's eyebrows went up in surprise. Ashton continued, trying to steer the conversation away from having to repeat the vile things he'd said. "You already know he brought up all the past drama and even asked me if I'd gone to the Galway Grill."

"You're kidding," Calum couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously, though, that place looks awful."

"It really does. You can tell they rushed the opening. Those tacky plastic decorations, if you thought Lune Rouge was gaudy," Ashton had to stop working because he couldn't stop giggling, which only got Calum laughing harder.

"Did you see the fucking menu? The Irish puns, it's so bad. The best part is that it's not supposed to be awful," Calum said.

"No, yeah, exactly it's supposed to be clever and fun, but it just comes off like a pretentious dickhead."

A loud alarm caught them off guard, and Ashton quickly silenced his phone and grabbed an oven mitt. He checked the temperature of both dishes before turning them around and putting them back in the oven. Calum had the hiccups and asked for a glass of water between breaths.

Calum hiccuped while trying to take a drink and began to sputter and cough. Ashton grabbed a towel as he came out of the kitchen and around to the other side of the bar. Calum covered his face and tried to catch his breath, but as he did, he became aware of Ashton's hand rubbing his back. His eyes still watering, he glanced over to see nothing but concern in the other man's face. Calum saw up close that Ashton's eyes seemed to shift color depending on how the light hit his face. He noticed the dimple on Ashton's chin and the rough patches of skin bearing faint scars from his teenage acne, the little bit of stubble under his bottom lip he'd missed when he shaved that morning, lips that were almost irresistibly close. Calum remembered he probably looked a hot mess and needed a minute to himself.

"Can I use your bathroom?" He asked from behind the towel.

"Sure, it's the first door down that hall," Ashton stepped back and let him pass.

Calum closed the door behind him and took a quick look in the mirror. His face was still red but it was slowly fading. He took a piss and blew his nose before washing his hands and splashing some water on his face. The towel hanging on the rack was super soft and Calum could tell it was expensive even if he didn't recognize the brand. He took a second to look around, and while the rug looked as soft as the towels, everything else seemed to be made of bamboo. In fact, the only plastic Calum saw was a bottle of mouthwash on the sink. It was rude to look in the medicine cabinet, but he peeked in the shower. He smelled sandalwood and citrus, noticing they not only used the same brand of shampoo bar, but the shower enema attachment was identical to the one in Calum’s shower. He began to worry he was taking too long, so he took another look in the mirror before opening the door.

Ashton was setting Calum's salad up on the bar next to a fresh glass of tea when he sat back down.

"Ooh thank you so much. This looks fantastic, is that feta?" Calum asked, suddenly realizing he was hungry.

"It's actually honey-basted goat cheese. The dressing is a turmeric and honey vinaigrette. I like the extra touch of sweetness. I grew the lettuce in my little balcony garden out back, along with most of my fresh herbs." He stopped talking and watched Calum eat. He'd never seen anyone go through such a range of expressions while eating. He was clearly enjoying himself. Ashton felt like he was being intrusive for staring, nevermind the thrill he got watching the other man's bliss. If he makes these faces while eating, I'm dying to see what he looks like when he's cumming, he thought.

Calum opened his eyes and caught Ashton blatantly staring. He met his gaze as Calum ran his finger along the underside of his bottom lip to catch a tiny drop off dressing from spilling down his chin and slowly licked it clean. He smirked when he saw Ashton blush and look away. Aren't you supposed to be working? A little voice reminded him, but he ignored it. "That was delicious, I can't wait to taste what's next."

Ashton smirked and started to reply when his phone rang. He started to hit ignore until he saw it was his mother.

"Sorry, it's my mom. I have to answer this," Ashton swiped up to answer. "Hey Mom, hold on one second. I'm sorry about this," he said, covering the mouthpiece.

"Thanks, and don't apologize. It's your mom, I get it," Calum told him.

"Yeah Mom, I've got company. Yes the interview, mmm-hmm, yeah. No, I'm home, but he's here. Yes, right now. No Mom it's not like that. I'll call you later. Love you too, bye." Ashton hung up and turned back to Calum. "Sorry about that."

"Please, it's no big deal. I talk to my mom every day, too, and it's not like I didn't know you were a Mama's boy," Calum grinned. "Hima told me, and you did name your restaurant after her."

"Hima talks too much," Ashton rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Yeah, my mom is my lucky star. We've been through a lot together, and she's the only one who's always had my back. I rely quite a bit on the women in my life, honestly. Lauren, my sister, is one of my best friends, along with my cousin Sophie. You've met Hima; Mom calls her my work wife."

"I could see that," Calum teased, "until she opens her own place."

"That's why I gave them a stake in the business. My mom suggested it. Hopefully, they'll want to stick around, maybe take over someday, who knows?" Ashton shrugged.

"Mom knows best right?" Calum smiled, pulling out his wallet. He pulled out an old picture of a woman who could be his twin with a chubby-cheeked toddler on her lap. "This is my mom, Joy. She lives on the east coast now, and every morning my alarm goes off at 5 AM so I can text her good morning as she's having her morning coffee."

"That's so sweet. You must be her favorite child," Ashton had the warm fuzzies watching Calum talk about his mom. The way his entire face lit up when he smiled melted him into a puddle.

"My sister would agree with you, except she has Vanessa now, so she cares fuck all what I do," Calum said unlocking his phone. As soon as he did multiple messages popped up from his editor/best friend/total pain in his ass asking how his date was going.

"Go away Sham," he mumbled, and Ashton looked at him and then his phone

Calum quickly hid the messages. "My editor, Sham. She's my work wife and constantly in my business."

"Didn't Hima tell me she sets you up on dates? Like the pocket-sized lawyer from the club?" Ashton asked, suddenly jealous.

"Hima talks too much," Calum grumbled, and Ashton lost it which set Calum off again.

It took several minutes to regain control until Calum had tears on his face, and Ashton was about to piss himself. He excused himself, and when he returned, Cal showed him a picture of the same woman from the first photo only older in this photo, her dark hair streaked through with silver. Standing next to her was a young girl who was obviously Calum's daughter. They were both dressed in Polynesian-style floral dresses. She had the same dark flashing eyes, broad nose, and strong jawline as her father, but her face had a more heart-shaped appearance.

Calum swiped to the next picture. "My sister, Mali, she's older and my best friend in the world." He pointed to the woman standing next to Vanessa, wearing a similar dress and tying a scarf around the little girl’s cloud of curly hair., The scarf was open a bit at the top, allowing her hair to work free of the silk forming a halo of curls for added effect. Whereas Mali had a bit of a sunburn causing her shoulders and cheeks to look pink against her warm golden tan, the sun had only added an extra glow to Vanessa's deep copper skin tone which was only highlighted by the vibrant blue and yellow pattern of her dress.

"Your family is gorgeous. You definitely take after your mother. Your daughter is a real cutie, were you guys in Hawaii?" Ashton asked, curious about the outfits.

Calum shook his head. "New Zealand, actually. Mom's whole family is from there. We went for a family reunion of sorts and so Vanessa could get to know her Maori heritage. She had a blast. We all did. Nicole came with us, and so did her husband. Well, he was her boyfriend then."

"Sounds like y'all have a good relationship," Ashton could tell Calum put his family above everything just as much as he did.

He swiped to the next picture and Ashton's jaw dropped.

"Wow, that's your daughter's mother?" He looked up at Calum and he nodded. "She's beautiful and that bone structure, my God. The camera loves her, and you can tell she knows her angles too. Damn, you're gorgeous, but you leveled up there," Ashton didn't realize what he'd said until it was too late. He looked back at the picture to avoid looking at Calum. When you put Vanessa next to her mom you could see a strong resemblance there as well.

Calum's ears burned with the compliment, and he was at a complete loss for words when the timer went off again, saving them both from the awkward silence. Ashton pulled the pastry out of the oven, flooding the room with a heavenly aroma that had Calum practically drooling. He grinned when he caught sight of the mushroom design Ashton had crafted out of paprika, coriander and sea salt. The mac and cheese was next, producing an insane cheese stretch from the pan to the plate as Ashton served it up. He finished the plate with a pile of oven-roasted celery and leeks topped with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice and cracked black pepper.

Ashton sat at the edge of the bar, at an angle from Calum so they could easily converse while keeping him steps away from the kitchen. At first, they were quiet, the food demanding their full attention, although Ashton had already decided watching Calum's expressions was his new favorite thing. The obscene amount of pleasure he took from his food had Ashton so distracted that he poked himself in the face with his fork.

Calum was in heaven. He didn't know what cheese blend Ashton concocted, but he'd never had anything like this pasta dish in his life. The vegetables were still firm to the bite, and the fresh citrus was a nice contrast to the creamy, heavy cheese sauce. However, the mushroom Wellington was the real stand out, and Calum had never had anything like it. He opened his eyes and caught Ashton staring again. When he looked away quickly and his ears turned red, Calum was hopelessly smitten. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had cooked for him, and never, ever anything like this. He can cook, and he's handsome as hell, with a big dick and his own money?? He's definitely getting his dick sucked tonight. Calum almost burst out laughing hearing Sham's voice in his head. This time it was Ashton's turn to catch Calum staring, but Cal didn't look away. Instead, he gave the chef a wink and a smile before taking another bite.

When dinner was finished, Ashton shooed Calum out onto the balcony so he could pick up a bit. He offered Calum an after-dinner smoke from his case of pre-rolled Raw cones. Ashton used to smoke weed all day long when he was a teenager before quitting cold turkey. The past couple of months, Rafi got him into a couple of decent blends to help him relax in the evening that didn't get him too wasted.

He made sure Calum was out of sight before quickly brushing his teeth in the kitchen sink. Ashton wanted to be prepared in case he got the chance to make a move. He'd even made a peppermint sorbet for dessert to cleanse the palate. He scooped out two small cups and topped them with freshly grated dark chocolate before heading out onto the balcony.

Calum was sitting with his back towards the door, a small cloud of smoke wafting above his head. Ashton opened the door, and the cloud dissipated in the rush of cold air that followed him outside. Calum glanced back over his shoulder and offered the joint to Ashton as he took the icy treat from him. Ashton inhaled deeply one time before gently stubbing it out in the ashtray as he sat across from Calum. Overcome by nerves Ashton began to point out the various herbs and flowers in his little balcony garden. He could tell he was talking too fast, and his palms were sweaty but watching Calum eat ice cream might was obscene,

The peppermint was stronger than Calum expected but left a lingering cool sweetness accentuated by the bittersweet chocolate. He scraped the cup, and ran his finger along the edge before licking it clean. He shivered, and he wasn't sure if it was the chill from the sorbet or nerves as he tried to plan how to ask Ashton out on a date, a real one.

Ashton abruptly stood up and walked to the far end of the balcony looking out at the city. Calum, sensing something was off, hesitated until he saw Ashton kept glancing at him and then looking away. He pushed himself up out of the chair and made his way over to Ashton and stood next to him looking out into the distance.

"You ok? I can go if you want me to. I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Calum didn't know why he said it, but he suddenly panicked.

Ashton looked up, stunned. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm just," he rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the sky. "I-uh I got nervous."

"Oh?" Calum asked, his pulse picking up.

"Yeah, I don't know how to do this anymore," Ashton mumbled looking at his shoes. "Kissing you is all I've thought about since the moment we met. And wow I said that out loud. Ok so maybe.." Ashton's sentence ended in a squeak as Calum's fingers brushed along his jaw and tipped his chin upwards to find Calum's face inches from his. He leaned forward as Calum's lips found his. The kiss was soft and slow, Calum's hands cupping his face as they melted into each other. Ashton's hands slid up Calum's chest before snaking around his neck and pulling him closer.

Ashton felt as if he were suspended in mid-air, floating and flying as the heat grew in his chest. He had butterflies in his stomach as he pressed himself closer. He felt Calum's strong arms wrap around him, giving him a cheeky squeeze on his ass. They both giggled and pulled away for a moment to breathe. This time Ashton went in first, he'd been dreaming about this moment, and it was better than he'd imagined. He was relieved Calum wasn't trying to rush. Still, he couldn't resist pulling back to nibble on Calum's jaw before scraping his teeth along the hollow of his throat. The whine that escaped Calum's lips, as a result, was almost enough to make him cum in his pants.

"Let's go inside," Ashton took his hand, and Calum followed him into the living room. Calum sat on the couch and tugged Ashton's belt loop to get him to sit down. Ash started to sit next to him, but Calum shook his head and grabbed his thigh, guiding him down so Ashton was straddling him.

Ashton's head was swimming as Calum's gently bit his earlobe and ran his tongue along the curve of his jaw. He moaned and Calum growled in response, grinding his hips into Ashton's where his bulge strained against the fabric of his tight trousers. He reached up and began to unbutton Ashton's shirt, his fingers brushing against the cool steel of the chain he wore around his neck then dropped down, leaving a trail of fire in the wake of each touch. Ashton's breath caught in his throat as Calum began to ease his shirt off of his shoulders while peppering his skin with kisses.

"I should've shaved," he mumbled.

"No," Calum assured him. "I like the chest hair," he whispered before scraping his teeth across his skin.

Ashton moaned, his head rolling back as he concentrated on Calum's mouth and hands, his own fingers grasping the other man's messy black curls. He pushed Calum back against the couch, finding his mouth again and sucking on his bottom lip, electricity coursing between them. Music started playing out of nowhere and he was puzzled when Calum stopped kissing him and wrapped one arm around his waist to hold him in place while he fished his phone out of his pocket.

Ashton frowned at the interruption and shifted his weight, sliding off his lap as Calum looked at him apologetically. "I'm really sorry, but it's Nicole. I think something's wrong."

Ashton's annoyance was immediately replaced by concern. Calum reached over and squeezed his hand, giving him a smile as he answered the call. It was brief, and Ashton heard every word. Nicole wouldn't give details over the phone but Vanessa's school had called and there was to be a teacher-parent meeting the very next day.

"I need you here. You need to be a part of this," she told him.

"I'm on my way," Calum replied without hesitation. He hung up, and Ashton could tell he was pissed and very worried.

"I hope everything is ok," he stood up and headed for the kitchen.

"She's been having a problem with a girl at school. We thought putting her in private school would make her life easier, but these rich kids are nasty little shits. Where did you go?" Calum stood up and straightened his clothes. When he looked up, he was confused by Ashton's sudden disappearance.

"I wanted to send you home with a doggy bag," Ashton replied, coming out of the kitchen with a paper bag in his hand.

"I thought we ate most of it." Now Calum was really perplexed.

He walked Calum to the door. "We did, but these are smaller versions I made for you to take home and cook yourself. I wrote instructions on a card that's in the bag, and there's a piece of flourless chocolate cake I made for dessert." He had to stop for a second and look away, suddenly shy at the way Calum was smiling at him. He took a breath and kept going. "I hate that you have to go, but it's sweet how much you care about your family. I had a really good time tonight, not just because of," he waved towards the couch, "you know, that. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. So maybe, I mean if you want to hang out sometime..."

Calum reached out and brushed his thumb across Ashton's bottom lip. "You're so damn cute when you're nervous." Calum leaned down and gave him a soft kiss goodbye. "I want to take you on a date, a real one. I have to go, but I'll text you. Goodnight." Another kiss and he was gone.

********

They were slow for lunch inside the restaurant. Daniel and Gloria were handling takeout, so Rafi and Hima were doing some extra prep for the weekend. She was helping make challah bread for brunch on Sunday when she spotted her boss gliding into work. She burst into laughter at Ashton's goofy grin despite the dark circles and bags under his eyes. Rafi saw him too and whistled and hooted until Ash flipped them both off and disappeared into his office.

Twenty minutes later, Hima set a plate of cookies down on his desk.

"We want you to try these. We're working on expanding catering to boxed lunches," she told him, sitting across from him.

"We've been open less than a month," he told her, trying not to spit cookie crumbs everywhere.

"We're already doing decent business on takeout, so we're just floating ideas for new revenue streams as word of mouth gets going. The reviews have been glowing, and I've been monitoring social media. We've been getting good exposure so far. I've had some offers to trade a free meal for exposure, but nobody has been worth our time."

Ashton nodded, as he'd learned long ago to trust her instincts. The cookies were perfect, absolutely delicious, but he knew that's not why she was in his office.

"How's my new stepfather? I've never seen you look so joyful, it's almost disturbing." Hima teased, but she was thrilled for him. Ashton deserved to be happy, and if she couldn't snuggle up to Calum “tall, dark, and handsome” Hood, having him as an in-law would work. Ashton took another big bite, chewing intently as if deep in thought. However, the blush creeping up his neck, not to mention the little hickey she spotted under his ear.

“So I take it the dinner went well. How was breakfast?" She asked, batting her eyes innocently.

"You're incorrigible, I swear," he laughed and leaned back in his chair. "He didn't stay the night. We kissed, but he got a phone call and had to leave."

"That fucking sucks," Hima pouted.

"Tell me about it. It was just getting good when the phone rang," Ashton felt himself getting hard thinking about it.

"Oh God, your face right now. You're so lost. Were you in the kitchen? All Hallmark-movies-of-the-week style?"

"No, I was straddling him on my couch if you may know," he told her just as she took a drink of water.

She tried not to choke and succeeded in dribbling water down her chin as she sputtered. "The mental image I just got. I hate you, you know that right?" She wiped her face with a towel she pulled from her apron and then threw it at Ashton.

"He's really a great guy," Ashton giggled. "Have you watched him eat though?"

"I know right, the faces," Hima almost yelled, catching herself and taking it down a notch. "I've never seen anything like it. Makes you wonder eh?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Seriously though, I'm really happy it worked out. You guys are gonna make such a cute couple. Now we have to find someone for me."

"Why? Is Dakota not working out?" It was Ashton's turn to look innocent as he watched the comment land.

Hima blinked rapidly before looking him straight in the eye. "I was not expecting that. How did you know?" She asked, but the answer came to her at the same time. "The cameras are on your phone. Am I fired?"

"Are you kidding? No, I'm just teasing, but yeah that caught me by surprise the other night," Ashton felt awful when she burst into tears. "You're not in trouble. Hima, look at me, we're friends. I'm not mad. I'm not going to tell your family." He came around the desk and pulled her out of her chair and into a hug.

Hima started to laugh, and he could feel her shaking in his arms. "Oh shit, sorry," she wiped away tears, as she eased away from him.. "I don't know why I reacted like that. I felt like my dad caught me lying and there was this rush of blind panic."

"I'm sorry, I was just fucking with you," Ashton didn't know what to say.

"I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m wanting to try things. But if I’m feeling guilty I can’t enjoy it. Can I tell you?" Ashton nodded and she continued. "I met him on FetLife, more on that in a second. He's got a girlfriend, but he wanted to try something new. Maisie won't let me use her place to meet up when her roommate is there. I had fun, but I didn't feel good about it after so it's a one and done. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Calum is on FetLife. He has a pain kink, nipple clamps, and light bondage from what I saw on his profile. I checked this morning and his profile was deleted. I'll send you the screenshot I took the first time. I don't know his tattoos, but you might."

There was a loud knock at the door, and they both jumped. Rafi opened the door before Ashton could answer, and Hima was taken aback by how angry he looked.

"You're not gonna believe this boss," Rafi said, a flush creeping up his neck. "Luke's here, he wants to see you."

Ashton jumped up followed by Hima hot on his heels. Gloria stopped them in the kitchen, blocking Ashton's path as they began to go back and forth arguing in Spanish with Rafi and Daniel cutting into the conversation.

Hima was the only person in the room who hadn't come over from Lune Rouge and wasn't included in the conversation. She took advantage of the distraction to slip past them and out through the prep area to the bar. She was looking towards the hostess podium, not expecting him to be sitting two feet from her looking straight at her as she came through the swinging doors. She'd seen enough pictures to recognize him right away, but he was even better looking in person. His blue eyes were sad, and for a second she thought he’d been crying. He turned on the charm instantly, giving her his best smile and extending his hand.

"I recognize you," he told her. "You're Hima, Ash's girl wonder. I've heard so many good things about you. I went to Johnson and Wales for a bit myself. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Hima instantly saw how Ashton had been so thoroughly bewitched by this man, and it amazed her that Luke had the balls to walk into their restaurant. She opened her mouth to tell him so when Ashton came out of the kitchen on the other side of the bar. Rafi came out and stood next to her behind the bar until Ashton glared at them and they ducked back inside.

"What do you want?" Ashton asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Listen, I didn't know how else to reach you," Like started.

"There's a reason for that. What do you want?" Ashton repeated the question.

"Can we sit down and talk, somewhere private? It's been so long" Luke whined, the sound grating on Ashton's nerves.

"Nope, I'm busy and I don't want you here. Please leave, don't contact me again," Ashton turned to go.

"Wait its Mom," Luke played his ace card. "She had surgery. I'm worried about her."

Ashton turned back around slowly, looking at Luke, who couldn't quite hide the triumphant smirk knowing he still had leverage over his ex. Ashton’s anger felt hollow now, not the gut-wrenching agonizing pain that once was there every day since he caught Luke cheating. It was gone, all of it. The realization was liberating. Knowing the seething hatred didn't follow him like a storm cloud, and the spell of attraction was irrefutably broken. Ashton knew right then that he didn't love Luke anymore, and he couldn't ever get it back even if he wanted to.

"Luke, your mom had her thyroid removed last Thursday. She's fine, we're having lunch next week. Get the fuck out of my restaurant," Ashton hissed.

Luke looked like he was going to start something, but Ashton stared him down, watching as he left the restaurant, got in his car, and drove away. He then pushed back through the kitchen doors, past everyone without a word, locked himself in his office, sat in his chair, and wept for almost an hour. The adrenaline rush of seeing Luke, the relief of knowing it was done, needed a release. When he was finished, he cleaned up a bit and finished the cookies Hima had left on his desk. There were a couple of text messages on his phone. The first was from Hima

You ok boss?

Never been better, I'll be out in a bit

Under that was Calum

Can't wait to see you again but I have to go out of town tomorrow. There's an event at the observatory for the meteor shower so I'll be up in the mountains. Let me pick you up Monday afternoon if you don't have to work

He did have to work, but Hima was off and she'd switch with him for this.

Sounds good, let me know what time

I can't wait 😉 I wanna pick up where we left off before we were interrupted. I'm almost at school. I have to go to the principal's office, some things never change. Looking forward to Monday

Ashton read the message, not knowing how he was going to stand the anticipation. He got up to find Hima. e could not work Monday. This was too important.

*********

Calum pulled into the parking spot, looking up at Ashton's building. He sent a text letting him know he was outside. As he waited, Calum glanced into the backseat at the picnic basket full of goodies Hima had helped him select. He'd sent her an email on his way out of town headed to where he would have little to no cell service. There was a little park that, if you knew how to wind through a subdivision full of dead-end and one-way streets, was about twenty minutes away from Calum's house. There was a duck pond next to a jacaranda tree that he'd always thought would be perfect for a date. He glanced up at the cloudy sky praying the weather held throughout the day.

Calum wiped his palms on his jeans and took a deep breath. He'd been looking forward to this all weekend, even sitting in the observatory atop Mt Hamilton watching shooting stars streak across the sky. He'd been impatient to get back to Ashton. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered. The lyrics to a song he hadn't heard in over a decade bubbled up into his brain, taking him back to his grandmother in Scotland cleaning her kitchen and singing along to the FM radio above her sink.

I'm wild again, beguiled again. Gran always told his sister to "find a brawny lad who can make you laugh and works hard." Calum grinned, watching Ashton emerge from his building wearing a green, long-sleeved Henley shirt and black skinny jeans that clung to his physique. Brawny lad indeed.

Calum turned the music down when Ashton opened the car door and climbed in. He was completely caught off guard when the other man handed him a small bundle from behind his back. Calum looked at the small bunch of plants tied together with kitchen twine and a small ribbon.

"You brought me flowers?" He asked, feeling his face get warm. "That's so thoughtful." Calum's throat was tight, and he knew he was blushing crimson. He smiled at Ashton, trying not to get too emotional. He focused on the bouquet which allowed him to take a second to regain his composure. As he did, he realized this was unlike any bouquet he'd seen before. "Are these from your garden?"

"Yeah," Ashton giggled, giddy and nervous. He shifted in his seat. He pointed to the small purple flowers on one. "These are chive blossoms, sage, and thyme." His fingers brushed the delicate white bell shaped blossoms. "Sweet marjoram, and this is borage, both great additions to a salad or stew. I added some daisies and rosemary for color and fragrance. I'm glad you like them." Calum looked up and Ashton looked away, shy again.

"If you're trying to impress me, it's working. I love them, thank you," he said brushing his fingers along the back of Ashton's hand. He reached behind his seat and grabbed a handful of napkins and a cup out of the picnic supplies. He carefully wrapped up the little bundle and placed it in the cup. "We should get going before the weather turns on us."

"Where are we going?" Ashton asked, buckling his seatbelt.

"It's a surprise," Calum winked at him.

"How was the meteor shower?" Ashton asked.

"Out of this world," Calum shot back and they both erupted into laughter.

Ashton leaned back in his seat, watching Calum's face as he concentrated on getting through a construction zone. His eyes landed on a small faint bruise on Calum's neck. He felt his cock twitch in his pants at the memory of leaving the mark, knowing he had every intention of leaving more later tonight.

Calum glanced over, and this time Ashton didn't look away, instead giving him a wink and a sly smile before Calum had to tear his eyes away to focus on the road. He gasped when Ashton reached over and put a hand on his knee. Ashton jerked his hand back at the sound, but Calum caught it. He gave him a squeeze then placed Ashton's hand on his leg again, slightly higher than before.

"Almost there, this place is a maze, but it's a nice quiet park," Calum made a series of turns and Ashton spotted the park up ahead. They passed the first parking lot near a playground where several kids were running around before making another turn and parking in a smaller lot.

Calum got out and walked to the back of the Rover. Ashton came around right as he was opening the hatch.

"What can I carry?" Ashton asked.

Calum frowned and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had his phone set to only allow for two numbers to ring through.

Ashton's heart sank watching Calum's expression. Please not another family emergency. He felt guilty, but he wanted Calum all to himself today.

"It's my mom, she's probably calling to chat but I have to answer. Give me just a second, I'm so sorry," Calum apologized.

Ashton nodded and smiled, hoping it was nothing serious. "I'm a Mama's boy too," he reminded him. "I'll look around a bit."

Ashton wandered off towards a lovely pond where he spotted a family of ducks swimming together. There was a tree overlooking the pond giving off shade and a little privacy. He heard Calum laugh and say his goodbyes to his mom, and he was relieved to see everything was fine. The ducks quacked out a warning before turning and swimming in the other direction. He started to turn back to go help Calum unload the car when the first raindrop hit his nose. Ashton looked up as it started to sprinkle. As he headed back towards the parking lot the drizzle increased to a soft steady rain. Then a streak of lightning split the sky with a deafening crack causing Ashton to almost jump out of his skin at the incredible noise. Unfortunately, this caused him to lose his footing and slip on the wet grass. He crashed hard into the ground and fell again when he tried to get up. Calum hurried over and reached Ashton just as he struggled to his feet, his left side streaked with mud and grass clippings sticking to his skin and hair.

"Are you ok?" Calum reached out to steady him.

"Yeah let's get out of here," Ashton snapped. "Sorry, I'm not mad at you."

"It's fine, really," Calum opened his door for him before going to his side and getting in. "We'll go to my house, I live ten minutes from here."

Ashton hesitated, not wanting to dirty up Calum's car, getting soaked standing there.

"It's fine," Calum reassured him.

Ashton thought for a second and then pulled his shirt, which got the worst of the mud, off over his head, wrung it out as best he could, tossed it on the rubber floor mat, and got in.

Calum turned the car on and flipped the heat on low so Ashton wouldn't get chilled. He wanted to say something, make small talk, anything as they drove in silence.

"I'm sorry about that," he began.

"Why? Rain is rain, it's not your fault. I might need to borrow your shower though. The grass is starting to itch," Ashton reached over and put his hand on Calum's knee again. Calum pulled it a little higher, and Ashton responded by sliding his hand all the way up Calum's thigh as far as he could go without actually touching his dick. Calum didn't say a word but Ashton smiled as he heard the sharp intake of breath and felt the car accelerate in response.

They pulled up to a small bungalow at the end of a winding road as the rain started to pick up. Calum grabbed the basket and handed Ashton a bag and they both made a dash for the front door. They were greeted by Brutus barking and bouncing on his back legs at the sight of Ashton. Calum was stunned when the little dog launched himself at the newcomer’s ankles, immediately flipping over for a belly rub.

"Somebody's friendly," Ashton cooed, leaning down to pet him.

"Not usually," Calum told him. "I'll get set up in here. Follow me, I'll show you where the shower is." He walked down the hall, Ashton and Brutus trailing behind him. He stopped at a closet and grabbed a couple of towels before opening another door. "This is the bathroom. I've got a couple different kinds of body wash, use whatever you need and I'll find you something dry to change into. You want a t-shirt or button up? Pants or shorts?" Calum asked trying not to gawk at Ashton's bare chest.

Ashton shrugged. "Something that's comfortable and easy to take off sounds good. It won't take long. It's not safe but I've gotta rinse off." The lights flickered and they both looked up.

"You'd better hurry. I'll leave the clothes outside the door," Calum told him before leaning in for a quick kiss.

Ashton frowned when he pulled back but Calum winked and disappeared into his bedroom across the hall. Ashton was tempted to follow but he needed to stop itching first.

*******

Ashton was halfway down the hall when the lights went out. He'd changed into the pajama pants and t-shirt Calum left hanging on the doorknob. He followed a soft glow until he found himself in the living room. Calum had set up some food in a spread on the coffee table, but he was nowhere to be seen. Ashton sat down on the couch and began to nibble on some strawberries when he heard a door slam and Calum came out wearing similar drawstring pants and a black shirt fully unbuttoned so the candlelight reflected off his bare chest making him look like a golden god.

"Oh hey, that was quick. I didn't know how hungry you were so I put the cold stuff in the fridge. I thought you might want to have a drink first. I have wine."

"Sounds good, we can eat later. I'm not really thinking about food right now," Ashton replied, food the furthest thing from his mind.

Calum sat down next to him, handing him a glass of red wine. Ashton took a sip and recognized it as a German ice wine he loved that was not easy to come by.

"How did you know? How did you find it so quickly?" Ashton looked up in disbelief.

"My wife called your wife about the feature and next thing I know I've got a box on my doorstep with this wine and some salami I've never heard of. There was also a caramel brownie cake that looks like it's gonna go straight to my hips. I did my own research for the rest of it. I know this date isn't going exactly how I wanted it to, but I wanted to make things special. At least the food will be good," Calum sighed.

"You didn't have to do all that," Ashton told him.

"Yeah I did," Calum responded. "You really went all out the other day. Everyone I’ve talked to while writing this feature has gone on and on about how kind and generous you are. You’re always put so much effort into other people and you deserve to have someone make that kind of effort for you. You're so warm and caring, and funny too. Anyone who doesn't see how special you are is an idiot," Calum stopped talking, afraid he'd said too much. He took a big gulp of wine only looking up when Ashton reached over to take the glass from his hand. He set both their glasses on the table and turned back to Calum.

Without a word, Calum reached for him pulling him onto his lap, Ashton's knees on either side of his hips. Ashton slid Calum's shirt off his shoulders as their lips met with a heated urgency. Calum nipped Ashton's bottom lip before their tongues tangled. Ashton pulled back and grazed his teeth and tongue down Calum's throat. His long fingers traced around Cal's dark nipples before giving them a sharp tug. Calum grunted and bucked underneath him in response making Ashton try it again. Leaving slow sucking kisses down his neck pinching the stiff rosy buds after each one as Calum began to grind his erection up against Ashton. Breathy cries escaped his lips as he got more aroused, more desperate.

Calum was tugging at the drawstring on Ashton's pants and slipping past the waistband. His hand closed around Ashton's length and he moaned in anticipation. It was bigger than he expected and thicker than anything Calum had imagined outside of porn and his wildest dreams.

"Let me suck you off," Calum begged as Ashton continued to mark up his neck.

Ashton shook his head, his soft curls brushing against Calum's jaw.

"Can't let that happen, sweetheart," Ashton answered, barely lifting his lips from the patchwork of red welts and slight purple bruises. "I'll cum too fast if I let you put those pretty lips around my cock. I've thought about it so many times."

Calum shivered as much from the heat of the other man's breath on his skin as the words he'd said.

"Mmmm I like that," Calum hissed. He arched his back as Ashton's head dipped lower, sucking a trail down his chest and latching onto his nipple. "I've wanted this, need you, Ash."

Ashton pushed hard against Calum's chest and stood up. Calum whined at the sudden lack of contact, his kiss swollen lips pursing into a pout.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking up at Ashton who was peeling off his shirt revealing his lean physique, chest heaving with a sheen of sweat, tattooed flames peeking out underneath his ribs. Calum started to get up but Ashton stopped him.

"Nothing's wrong, everything is perfect," Ashton told him, bending down for a quick kiss. "I wanted to take my time but hearing you moan my name like that is too much. Slide your pants down, let me taste you." Ashton carefully moved the table back far enough they wouldn't bump anything as things got crazy.

"Oh God," Calum gasped as Ashton kneeled between his thighs, tugging impatiently as he raised his hips and kicked his shorts off.

Ashton licked around the tip of Calum's cock feeling it twitch seeking his mouth. Calum reached for him but Ashton pinned his hands beside him on the couch. "Not yet," Ashton teased, fluttering the tip of his tongue along the ridge.

"Oh fuck Ashton, please," Calum's eyes rolled back and his jaw dropped open as Ashton took him all the way down his throat. He had to concentrate to keep himself from exploding right then. Calum tried to squirm away but there was nowhere to go. Ashton let up instantly.

"Are you ok? Do you want me to stop?" Ashton's hazel eyes were searching Calum's face.

Calum grabbed Ashton's hand and placed it in his inner thigh. "I don't want you to ever stop. I'm just trying not to bust too soon."

Ashton grinned and leaned forward. His mouth hovered just above Calum's shaft, close enough he could reach out with the tip of his tongue, if he wanted to.

"Don't want that to happen do we?" Ashton smirked, grasping the base of Calum's shaft applying pressure just above the balls and pulling it back away from Calum's stomach.

"Keep doing that," Calum moaned, waiting until the pressure turned to slight pain. "Let go, let go," he cried and Ashton released his grip letting his dick spring back, slapping against his stomach. "Fuck babe, do that again," Calum whined, pulling his nipples his dark eyes intensely focused on Ashton.

Ashton flushed under Calum's stare feeling the knot in his stomach twist with desire as Calum moaned with each stroke, each release. They were both sweating now, the dim light giving Calum's broad chest as Ashton pushed up and met Calum's lips for a kiss.

Ashton stood up looking down at Calum seated on the couch. Reaching down he cupped his hand around the massive bulge straining against his pants before pushing his hips towards Calum's face. His dark bushy eyebrows raised in a smirk Calum began to tease Ashton with nips and sucking kisses. Ashton hissed at the feeling of teeth grazing his shaft through the flannel. Calum groaned against him as Ashton impatiently slithered the waistband down past his hips. Calum's mouth was on him in a flash, lips parted and taking him down past the back of his throat resisting the urge to gag around his length. Ashton cried out as his hands tangled in Calum's soft curls leaning his weight against Calum to keep his knees from shaking.

Calum looked up at the man hovering over him, their eyes met and the need intensified. Ashton bent down for a kiss as Calum's hands reached up pulling his hips down once more. In between the flurry of passionate kisses and hands roaming and grasping desperately to feel as much of the other’s skin against their own Calum could barely gasp out the words.

"How do you want me?"

Ashton's head spun at the sound of the words. He'd imagined this so many times, gotten himself off so many times thinking about this moment. Now that it was here he didn't hesitate to answer.

"I wanna ride you until you cum for me," Ashton told him.

Calum looked shocked and Ashton started to explain, "normally I'm a top but with you I thought-"

He couldn't finish the sentence before Calum stopped him with a kiss. "Don't have to explain. I wanna try everything you wanna try. Let me grab something really quickly," Calum helped Ashton shift so he could get up. He grabbed a towel and pulled open the drawer on the coffee table where he'd stashed lube and condoms just in case. Ashton chuckled but his breath caught in his throat as Calum turned back towards him. Fully nude, the candlelight cast a golden glow across Calum's chest and thighs as he walked back towards the couch, sliding the condom on with a stroke and Ashton couldn't remember anything sexier. They settled back on the couch with Ashton straddling Calum his knees on either side of his hips. Calum moved his hand down as Ashton raised his hips as Cal's fingers moved past Ashton's balls to tease his tight hole.

Ashton sighed and relaxed back against Calum feeling himself being spread open as he worked another couple of fingers in. When Ashton had gotten used to the stretch he began to rock his hips impatiently and wanting more. Calum chuckled against Ashton's chest as Ashton took the lube from him and made sure Calum's cock was nice and slick before easing the head of it into his eager entrance. Calum held his breath, clenching his stomach and thighs to hold still while Ashton carefully worked Calum's length inside him. The pain gave way to a throbbing ache as Ashton began to rock his hips. Calum was thick, so he felt the most delicious stretch. Calum's hands roamed everywhere. He ran his nails along Ashton's thighs, stroking over the phoenix tattoo on his ribcage, and grazed through Ashton's chest hair before tugging at his necklace. Ashton's hips moved faster as he leaned back to balance his hands on Calum's thighs. Calum wrapped his hand around Ashton's cock matching thrust in time. There were no words needed as they moved together moans and groans punctuated with the occasional soft little sigh because it just felt so good.

Calum's hips bucked and he knew he couldn't hold back much longer. Not with the way Ashton was bouncing on him now, his thighs pumping as he sought his own climax. Ashton leaned forward whimpering into Calum's neck, nuzzling and nibbling. His tempo increased, his nails dug into Calum's scalp and his long fingers pulled his curls. Calum kept one hand on Ashton's shaft while the other clutched Ashton's hip spurring him on.

A growl ripped from Ashton's chest as his orgasm exploded from his core shooting electricity through every nerve ending in his body. Calum felt him erupt between their bodies spilling through his fingers and onto his chest. Ashton clenched around Calum's cock sending him crashing into ecstasy as Ashton's hips stuttered and jerked, milking every drop from Calum as he thrust up into Ashton, his eyes rolling back in his head. Ashton sat up pulling Calum's head into his chest, Calum's arms wrapped around Ashton's waist as they traded breaths and their heartbeats slowed back down. Ashton eased himself off Calum causing both of them to groan a little at the lack of contact.

Calum got up and staggered into the kitchen to throw the condom away and wash his hands. He came back with a bottle of water for each of them, flipping the spout up before handing it over. Ashton sat up and guzzled the entire bottle as Calum grabbed the towel wiping himself off quickly and tossing it on the couch. Ashton excused himself to clean up and when he came back Calum had moved the table back by the couch and was munching on a cluster of grapes.

"Sorry, but I'm always hungry after sex," Calum looked sheepish and Ashton noticed he hadn't bothered to get dressed yet. Not that I'm complaining. Ashton ran his hand up Calum's thigh as he settled next to him on the couch.

"Don't apologize," Ashton gave him a wink. "You need to get your strength back for round two."

"Oh yeah?" Calum raised his eyebrows and bit into the fruit, letting the juices dribble down his chin.

"Keep looking at me like that and see what happens," Ashton smirked but he was hungry too.

Calum pulled a throw blanket and some cushions on to the floor so they could stretch out. Ashton poured more wine while Calum grabbed the food out of the fridge. Ashton's mouth watered when he saw the espresso baked brie and the spinach croquettes. Calum had done his homework and Ashton was incredibly touched by the effort.

Calum sat down with his back against the couch and Ashton propped himself up at a slight angle to him, close enough to touch, with the food places between them, their legs stretched out and tangled together. They ate in comfortable silence exchanging smiles and glances between bites. They found little ways to touch each other, unable to keep their hands off each other. Calum fed Ashton a bite of chocolate only to find the other man's lips pressed to the inside of his wrist. Ashton wiping crumbs off Calum's bottom lip before finding his thumb captured between Cal's teeth. Calum laughed and started to say something but Ashton had spaced out on him.

"What's on your mind?" Calum cringed when he realized he'd spoken out loud.

"I'm trying not to think about things too much, it's never a good idea," Ashton admitted. He was already in too deep, whether he said it out loud or not.

Calum pulled Ashton in close, folding the other man into his arms so his head was resting just above Calum's heart. Ashton closed his eyes, listened to the rhythm, and the rise and fall of Calum's chest.

"I know what you mean. This is going to sound corny but I feel like I should be nervous, I'm not though. I really like you and I'm not going to try to find something wrong. I'm too excited to see what happens next." Calum finished his thought with a string of kisses along Ashton's hairline before adding," I have to Venmo Hima $100 before I forget."

Ashton pulled back laughing, he grabbed his phone off the table. "I can't say shit, she pulled the same scam on me."

Calum laughed and leaned forward to get his phone as well. Ashton eyed Calum's bare ass noticing the slight tan line just above his hips. Calum saw his expression and wiggled his hips. "Like what you see?" Calum's tone was playful but Ashton could see his dick getting hard again.

"I will take you right here Hood," Ashton growled reaching for a condom.

Calum's phone rang, it was Hima on FaceTime.

"Answer it, I dare you," Ashton pulled Calum onto his back and placed his hands on the back of Calum's thighs.

"Hima, what's up?" As soon as Calum answered the call he felt Ashton's tongue teasing between his cheeks. He fought to keep a straight face as he told Hima about the disaster in the park despite Ashton probing and licking against his hole. Aston buried his tongue and Calum ended the call without saying goodbye and tossed his phone to the side.

Ashton made Calum beg to be fucked before he finally relented and replaced his tongue with the head of his dick. Ashton kept Calum's knees to his chest as he took his time easing his cock into Calum's ass, adding lube as he went. Calum had never been with anyone this big and he pulled his own nipples as Ashton stretched him as far as he could go. The thrill of the pain was unlike anything Calum had experienced and Ashton made him beg before he pushed further. Calum gasped as Ashton bottomed out, seeing his arms flex as he held himself in place, the light reflecting off the red blood moon tattoos and bold black star. Ashton moved his hips, barely pulling out and rocking against his ass to hit a spot deep inside him that Calum never knew existed. The surprised moan that filled the room spurred Ashton to maintain that control, giving long slow deep strokes, and hitting that spot each time.

Calum's hand closed around his dick, trying to keep from cumming before he was ready. Ashton switched positions, biceps curling around Calum's thick thighs as they moved together, chasing their climax together.

Calum arched his back, his spine contracting and releasing slamming his hips against the floor. Ashton rutted his hips, pushing deeper into Calum. His vision blurred as Calum's name fell from his lips. Calum cried out underneath him and Ashton watched Calum's release spattering his chest and stomach with white streaks. Ashton collapsed on top of him shaking uncontrollably as he came undone.

"Oh my God Ashton, that was incredible," Calum whispered when he found his voice again. They untangled from each other, both sticky and sleepy, overheated from exertion.

Calum made sure the candles were blown up and there was nothing left out that could hurt Brutus before he led Ashton into the bathroom where they fumbled around in the shadows taking turns rinsing each other off and exchanging clumsy kisses. Calum took them into his bedroom, pulling the covers down on the bed as the electric came back on. The AC started with a whoosh turning the room chilly very quickly. They scrambled under the covers quickly, fighting for the covers and giggling like little kids. There was a bit of awkward positioning before they ended up laying face to face unable to stop staring at each other, chatting for what seemed like hours, hands, and legs intertwined before they finally dozed off.

**********

When Ashton woke up he was alone in a strange bed. The smell of Calum tickled his senses and the bed was still warm. There was a light shining from the hallway. He listened and heard tiny scraping sounds coming towards him before a small dog burst into the room and launched himself on the bed. Brutus attacked Ashton with doggy kisses as Calum followed him into the room.

"Brutus, get down," Calum scolded him. "Sorry about that. He needed to go out and I was trying not to wake you."

"What time is it?" Ashton looked around for his phone.

"It's a little after midnight, I can drive you home if you need to go," Calum offered, unable to hide his sudden disappointment.

"There's nowhere else I want to be, come back to bed," Ashton yawned and stretched out.

Calum slid under the covers, cuddling into Ashton's body heat, Brutus curled up on the duvet between them. Calum rested his head against his shoulder and Ashton's fingers aimlessly snaked through Calum's soft dark curls. The rain began again as they drifted off to dream together.

@sublimehood @tea4sykes @be-ready-when-i-say-go @scribblesos @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @wildmichaelflower @castaway-cashton @damselindistressanu @notinthesameguey @cashtonasfuck @irwinkitten @mermaidcashton @malumsmermaid

#calum hood #ashton irwin #cashton #cashton smut #calum hood smut #ashton irwin smut #5sos writing collab #5sos #calum 5sos #ashton 5sos

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youbloodymadgenius · 4 years

Text

Over and over again (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: Please, read the warnings!

This is for @a-mess-of-fandoms ‘s 400 followers writing challenge. The prompt I chose was: But I choose you, even when you’re not an option. This is the first time I've ever taken part in a writing challenge. Thank you 🌺

Ivar is significantly older in this one, in his early to mid-40s probably.

@inforapound: I know how much I owe you 💖

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff. Breast cancer implied.

Words: 1669

The gif belongs to @honestsycrets 💜

Light kisses…

Light kisses on your inner thigh wake you from a deep sleep. Dizzy, it takes you a few seconds to realize what is going on.

"Ivar…", supressing a yawn, you stretch lazily, "… what… what are you…"

"Shh… Don't talk my love. Just let me take care of you…"

Even if you wanted to, you don't have time to object as his hot breath against your clit and his fingers grazing your folds make you moan.

"Hmm... So good…"

You manage to say, arching your back while gripping the sheets, shivers running through your body. He stops for a moment. The darkness doesn't allow you to see his eyes or his features clearly, but you know that his piercing blues eyes are looking towards you and you're sure that a cocky grin stretches across his handsome face.

"That's all I want, my love… I want you to feel good…"

His husky voice sends chills down your spine and you can't help but giggle, feeling free and oblivious to everything from the numb pain in your upper body to the struggles in your mind.

"Shh… Keep quiet and don't move my love, I'm not finished yet."

Adding force to his soft yet bossy words, his left arm settles down over your belly, preventing you from moving, as he lowers his head once again. Immediately whining as his mouth finds your core, you gasp when his tongue licks your folds before twirling around your clit. There's no rush though, and no harshness. In the privacy of your shared bed, Ivar has always known how to be gentle when necessary, even if he prefers rough sex.

Still, since you've been discharged, gentleness has become his mantra, soft kisses on your cheek or in the crook of your neck, grazing fingers along your thighs, delicate words of love whispered in your ear… Sometimes you feel like a porcelain doll… The truth is that's probably what you are. And that is definitely what you need.

Gliding his fingers in and out from you, you can feel him smile against your thigh as he readjusts his position, faintly groaning. You should be worried about his comfort but you cannot, not when his fingers are working wonders.

"Ivar I'm…"

"Yes my love, let it go." Curling his fingers inside you, increasing the pace of his tongue on your clit, your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, clenching and unclenching, endlessly pulling his braids. Wrapping your shaking thighs around his head, your hands scratching at his scalp, you can't breathe anymore, stars blowing up in your head, tears filling your eyes. You come hard, shuddering, moaning, crying his name. Hopelessly.

Still slightly dazed, you suddenly freeze, barely able to talk.

"Ivar, what are…" His hard cock presses against your leg, his hand runs across your belly, up to your chest as your voice breaks. "Stop Ivar, I..." Your hand grabbing his arm, you beg him, swallowing before you can go on. "Ivar, no. I… I cannot…"

Placing his hand just above your navel, which he knows is a safe place, he speaks softly.

"I'm not turning on the light, you know that?"

"Ivar," you respond in a shaky voice, almost pleading, "you don't need your eyes to feel it."

Or the lack of it.

Moving you to tears, the thought makes you feel sick and you hiccup before freeing yourself from his grasp. You don't want to reject him but there's nothing you can do. You cannot. You cannot. You cannot.

Rolling on your side, curling up on yourself, you let your dark thoughts get the better of you. Ivar deserves so much better. You're not worthy anymore. You’ve denied him for so long, barely allowing him to pleasure you. He never complains. You'd like to, no you'd love to make love to him, again.

But you cannot.

You cannot.

Sobbing, you drown in self-pity, hating yourself for what you put him through, and for what you've become.

You can hear him shift in the bed and when he groans, you raise your head to look at him, sitting straight against the headboard.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" His soft voice stirs you up, making you cry even more.

Fighting the panic setting down in your heart and your head, you take a sharp breath. "You know what's wrong, Ivar. Look at you! Look at us! Look what I am doing to us! I know you, you're craving for more. And you have every right to. But I can't give you more and that's not fair. You deserve better, better than me. You deserve everything I can never offer you again. You deserve joy and happiness and bliss, and you deserve to cum and—"

His pointer finger grazing your lips, he shushes you tenderly. "It's not about me, my love. I'm fine. Don't worry, I promise I'm fine. For now, it's all about you. So please, talk to me and keep in mind that I love you, no matter what. You do know that, don't you?"

One of his hands strokes your hair and baby kisses brush your temple, overwhelmed with his love, you wish you could let go. But as much as you would like to, you cannot.

"I do. But sometimes love is not enough, Ivar.” Catching a half-choked and obviously outraged cry, you feel the need to explain, your entire body shaking. "Love is not pleasure, Ivar. Love is not sex. I cannot pleasure you. I cannot have sex with you. I. Can. Not. Not anymore." Your uneven breathing gives away your distress and you try pointlessly to steady it, inhaling deeply. "Look at me, Ivar. Look what I am. I'm a mess. This… this fucking disease stole my femininity, stole who I was. I'm no longer the woman you knew, Ivar. I cannot be this woman anymore. I don’t know where she is, and I don't even know if she will ever come back. I'm not sure. Now, I'm just an empty shell, Ivar. A scarred and broken empty shell."

Anger. That's what you expect. You know Ivar, and you know your words hurt him deeply. But you have to tell him. He must understand.

You cannot. You cannot.

But there's no outburst. No fist hitting the mattress. No tightening grip. There's nothing but silence for a few longue minutes. When he speaks again, it's with a quavering voice.

"What are you trying to tell me, Y/N? What does it mean, my love?" Fear and distress noticeable in his words, you know he doesn't really want to hear what you're going to say. But you have to. He must understand.

"You deserve a whole woman, Ivar, and not who I became; an ugly and misshapen body. I can't look at myself in the mirror anymore. How could you? How could you even look at me? Ivar, I'm no longer an option."

Your words exhausted you, drawing on what little strength you had left. Weeping and crying, you bury your head into your pillow, wishing you could disappear and forget.

Ivar has a different take on it.

"Come here, Y/N, please."

Whispering and softly grasping your arm, he pulls you close, resting your head on his chest. Too weak, you don't try to fight back, allowing him to do so. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he grabs your hand, putting it on his thigh.

You may be numb, but you know he's doing it on purpose. His thigh. His right leg. The worst. Scarred, bony, bumpy. Gruesome. Disgusting. Useless. They're not your words, they are his.

"You have no right to talk about yourself like that, my love." His firm tone startles you. "And I don't intend to hear any more of this nonsense."

"Ivar…", muttering, you wish you could argue, convince him, but he's talking again before you can collect your thoughts.

"No, my love. Now, you're going to listen to me. I wasn't an option. I couldn't be an option. Because of my temper. Because of my legs. Shit Y/N, I couldn't even walk when we met. A fucking cripple stuck in a fucking wheelchair because of his fucking repulsive and stupid legs! That's all I was. Nonetheless, you chose me. You did choose me, Y/N. I still can't understand why, but you did. And for that I'm grateful every day. You taught me love, Y/N. But most of all, you taught me to love myself."

Sighing, he gently kisses your forehead as you snuggle into his arms. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do now. I'm going to teach you to love yourself again, as much as I love you. Because you deserve it, and because you're everything I want. The disease took a lot from you, I'm aware of that. I won't deny it and I will be patient. I can wait, Y/N. I will wait. But fuck, my love, you're alive. And as far as we know, you're healthy. Your body is different, it's true. But it doesn't change anything for me. To me you're perfect the way you are. You're perfect how you are. You may not believe me but I choose you, even when you're not an option. Because I love everything about you. I love these tiny wrinkles in the corner of your eyes. I love your stubbornness and your bad faith. I love the way you laugh, even if it's too loud, I love that you always want to have the last say. I love your old stained, patched jumper you refuse to throw away, I love that you keep making sure I took my meds, even though sometimes it pisses me off. I love all your flaws, I love all your scars… As you love mine… And above all, Y/N, I love you for who you are, and not for how you look. I love you very, very much, more than my own life. And that's why I choose you. And I'll choose you, over and over again."

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @gearhead66 @readsalot73 @hecohansen31 @saldelys

#ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar #modern!ivar #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine #breast cancer

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starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Text

Dedicated to @starkerintheparker for when she gets back from all that super hard studying ❤ Based on some insomnia musings. Vampire AU.

IronSpiderShield.

The man steals Peter's breath away without even a touch when he walks through the filligreed double doors, and Peter immediately thinks Vampire.

It's undeniable. Encompassing.

His movements are nothing short of precise, perfect. Measured and nothing except predatory in their elegance. Peter can't be sure, but he doesn't think the man's polished Louboutin's make a single sound on the marble.

He's pale, not in a dead body kind of way, but in a creamy whiteness that makes him practically glow under the lights. His sharp jaw is sculpted by dark stubble, shaped by perfect lines and with not a patch in sight. It's matched by a full head of thick, fluffy hair, shining like gloss.

But it's the eyes that give him away. His eyes that grip Peter's breath tight and hold it ransom. Peter can't think of a precious stone to compare them to because there is none like this; glowing and blue-white. Electric. Ice fire that burns Peter up inside.

If he wasn't looking at them in person, he'd think they were animated. He grips his champagne flute so hard his nails scrape against it, drawing a slightly mollified look from the woman to his left. Peter, a generally polite person, can't even bring himself to apologise. Can't tear his gaze away from the man in the doorway.

His suit is somewhere between royalty and ringmaster; a velvet-black with gold networking along the sleeves, the collar, a tail-coat instead of the hip-cut suit every other rich man wears. Somehow, the man pulls it off.

His heart is hammering. He can feel it. Every Vampire in the room can hear it. It claws at his throat, desperate to shatter the confines of its cage and run to the man. The man, who is quite suddenly and quite surely, staring straight back at him.

Peter is so startled he almost drops his glass, saved only by the fact that his entire body locks up, fingers gripping the fragile object so hard he's sure it would shatter. Thoseeyesthoseeyesthoseeyes.

And then, of course, the second most beautiful man Peter has ever seen comes gliding past him, and perhaps the Vampire hadn't been looking at him at all. Nobody else is; their gazes are flicking between the two men like they're eating them alive, waiting to pounce. The perfect juxtaposition.

The second man is tall, impossibly broad. Shoulders Peter could lay across blend into a trim waist, into long, long legs and thick thighs and when he turns enough to talk to the man in the doorway, his jawline is sharp enough that Peter could cut his fingertips touching it. His hair is polished gold, soft and pushed back.

Peter's throat dries up.

Vaguely, he knows he's staring. Knows he's being obvious about staring, in comparison to the way everyone else hides their gazes with drinks glasses and careful body placement. The vague notion of merely looking around the room, instead of oggling the world's hottest couple.

Because they can't be anything else. Not with the intimate way the tall blonde touches him at the temple, not with the way the shorter Vampire grasps at his hip as he laughs quietly. They're both living, pale, deadly Michaelangelo works and at some point, Peter must breathe again because the fire in his chest abates to an ember.

"Interesting, aren't they?" A deep voice drawls from his side. Obidiah Stane is a mountain of a man, a towering six-six to Peter's five-nine. His shoulders are broad, but brutish compared to the sculpted strength of the blonde Vampire. And Obidiah is no Vampire, no matter what he would do to obtain such power.

"They're beautiful" is all Peter can breathe back. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. At his side the man coos, like Peter is some dumb little parrot that finally said 'hello'. At the doorway, two sets of blue fire eyes fix on him in fast predation.

"I'm - I'm getting a drink" Peter choked, turning on his heel. Obidiah's chuckle is condescending, the smirk on his mouth vicious as he tips his own glass to Peter, watching him leave. The man reminds him somewhat of a shark, if sharks were as cruel as Obidiah could be.

"A double sweet liqueur, please. With coke" Peter mutters at the bar. The man behind it, blessedly human, eyes him carefully before going for a glass. "Hell, could you make it a triple? In a pint glass or something?" He considered, gaze pleading. He could pretend it was just coke, as long as he didn't let Ms. Potts close enough to sniff. The bartender looks at him again, a flat look like he's caught Peter in a lie. His gaze shifts a literal half-second before the silkiest voice Peter has ever heard comes from behind.

"He'll have a single. With extra soda".

Peter turns to ask just who the Hell Mr. Audio Porn thinks he is, when a bucket of metaphorical ice water is dumped over him, and he drowns once more in twin pools of blue moonlight. They blaze up close, strong enough Peter imagines their glow bathes his cheeks.

"It's rude to stare" the man purrs, eyes twinkling and lips curving into enough of a smirk that the very tip of one sharp, sharp canine peeks out. That does nothing to make him stop, gaze fixed on the glittering point and heart beating at his teeth.

Peter is vaguely aware of the bartender placing a drink at his elbow, the glass too short to be anything but a single, but he can't even bring himself to care. What would he do, anyway? Argue with a man who could break his neck with his index finger alone?

"We wouldn't want Ms. Potts putting you to bed early for misbehaving now, would we?" The man continues, his velvet drawl sinking into Peter's body. His lashes are long enough that it almost looks like he's wearing eyeliner.

"Especially," the man breaths, moving closer, too close, not close enough. "When most grown up fun happens after dark". The man brings Peter's glass to his lips, dark and full, and looks amused when the sweet scent hits him, taking a slow and luxurious sip.

"Flavourful" he murmurs, turning the glass and extending his arm, until the exact piece of glass he'd just curled his tongue around rests on Peter's bottom lip. Peter can't bring himself to do anything except tip his head, obligingly sipping the sweet, fizzy combination.

"Tony. Haven't we talked about playing with things that aren't yours?" Comes another soft, deep voice, and Peter's knees almost buckle. The idea of being reduced to a thing shouldn't do anything but offend him, and yet he can feel his cheeks darken and his cock fill against his thigh.

Tony. He wants to taste it. Play with the shape of it on his tongue. Can only watch as the blonde approaches, pulls Tony back a step so that Peter can finally breathe. The man seems equal parts stern and amused, eyeing Peter both like he was a meal and a trash wrapper.

"He's not anyone else's, though. He's too fresh and prey to be anything but desk candy for Pepper" Tony pouts, but it's mean and sweet both. Peter suspects he's being mocked, but he can't bring himself to react other than to blush harder, gaze averting.

"Besides, Stevie. I'm doing a good deed. This sweet little kitten was trying to play grown up with his drinks" Tony grins, teeth bared. The look that 'Stevie' turns on Peter makes him feel about two inches tall, like the kid caught stealing cookies late at night.

"Stop biting at things too sweet for your teeth, Tony. Let the skittish colt go" Steve (because Peter would guess a man this regal wasn't born Stevie) warns. The docile, minimising insults finally prompt Peter to open his mouth, frowning.

"I'm not a kitten. Or a colt. Or a lamb, before you go making any big-bad-wolf references" he seeths, but it only serves for Steve to arch one golden brow and for Tony to laugh, delighted.

"The little baby bites" Tony play-growls at him, leering closer. His fight back only seems to have melted Steve's protection of him, because the man glances at his partner with what can only mean I take it back, he's fair game. Chew away.

"Sweet alcohol. Sweet face. Sour little temper. I wonder what the rest of you tastes like" Tony whispered, lewd and shameless. Peter is vaguely aware that there are two other Vampires in this room that can undoubtedly hear every word of this, but the warm ache in his gut persuades him to ignore it.

"Bite me and find out" Peter snapped scathingly, and this time it was Steve that moved closer, towering over him like a fierce, proud lion. That's fitting, Peter thinks. A lion. A King. Would Tony be the Panther, then? The beast in the shadows?

"You wouldn't want us to do that, little kitten. You shouldn't try to fight things with teeth sharper than yours" Steve purrs, tongue curling over pointed canines as he grins in a move made only to flash fang. At his flank Tony does the same, predatory, eyes blazing.

"He started it" Peter responded, but his words were nothing but a beaten down mumble, gaze averting. Submitting. It was a fight he wouldn't win even if they were human. You live as you die when you're a Vampire - And the bite doesn't inherently change your personality. These men are royalty and teeth and sex by blood.

"Let him bite, darling. A little thing like him won't leave marks" Tony hummed lowly, taking Peter's drink again, watching him as he sips like daring Peter to rise to the bait. He doesn't. Can't. Can barely feel the blur of his heart and the heavy hotness between his legs.

Steve's hand lifts, moves syrup-slow towards his jaw. His touch, when it finally comes, isn't the ice cold that Peter imagined. Steve's touch is...Lukewarm. Warm enough to give the illusion his blood flows beneath the marble skin. The pad of his thumb his heavy, soft when it pulls down Peter's lip, his gaze electric and dark at once.

"Blunt little baby teeth" he agrees, like mocking, but his voice is soft and Peter's lip tastes like skin and metal when Steve lets go of his mouth. "Wouldn't hurt at all. Not like we could" he adds, husky and like it's a promise.

Peter shivers.

"And you told me I was playing with my food" Tony drawls, lazy and entertained, almost jealous as he licks at the place Peter drank from. Tastes him.

"I'm not your food" Peter huffed, scowling. He was more than a walking snack, thanks. Vampires or not, he wasn't a Capri-Sun to be poked full of holes and drained. The smile Tony throws him is sticky sweet, leering. The truth is; they could walk out of here with him and nobody would stop them. There'd be questions later, but the world has always been rules by power, and what are Vampires if not powerful?

"Mm. But I'll bet you'd let us taste, wouldn't you?" Tony rasps back, sexuality velvet-smooth. "You'd let us lick and suck. Let us bite".

He would.

"Behave" Steve warns again, but there's less sincerity behind it now. Less authority and more habit. He's close enough that to look at him, Peter has to look up, head tipping back. Tony is flanking him enough that Peter can see the flecks of white in his eyes. The blue so crisp it's almost clear.

"What do you think, Stevie? Think if we take off the halter the little colt will bolt away?" Tony purrs, eyes and fangs clinging in the golden overheads. "Because I think he'll be a good little baby and trot straight into Room 313" he added, tongue dipping onto the razor edge of his canine. A tiny bead of red wells there.

Steve looks at him for a long, long time, and then they're gone with nothing but a lingering, predatory glance. Peter really does collapse again the bar then, gasping and ignoring even Obidiah's hungry gaze. Something nudges his elbow and when he turns, it's another drink. The tumbler taller, the customer scale for a double. The bartender won't look at him, but Peter isn't exactly running for eye contact, either.

The drink is strong on his tongue, sweet to the point of almost being bitter. Liquid courage, they call it. The tonic of the nerves. On his way out, he can't bring himself to look at anything except the polished floor each step ahead. No doubt everyone knows, regardless. Or will, if his body is found by the cleaners in the morning.

The door swings open even as his hand lifts to knock, and Tony leans against the door frame, ice fire eyes and licking at his mouth. "It looks like I found a stray kitten" he purred, fang-tips glittering as he reaches for Peter's collar.

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