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grogusmum · 10 months

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Seven Tears (Part 7 and epilogue)

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

WORD COUNT: 3500ish

SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: After Ezra is forced to make a terrible choice, his Moonbeam goes about setting it right.

WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms and sexism, though set in mid-20th century Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse, and his family are white. Violence, Drowning, Near Drowning, mention of blood (As always see something say something. Please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)

Series Masterlist

Part 6

AUTHORS NOTE AT THE BOTTOM

Gaeilge Translations (at the top and bottom of the fic to be closer to where they occur)

Rón Inis Island of the Seals

M’fhíorghrá My true love

Ezra's eyes fixed a path to Rón Inis (Roan Inish), watching for the seals as he began to undress.

“My most sincere apologies to you, Thomas - I am fully aware that this is more than you bargained for.”

Thomas laughed a bit awkwardly, looking everywhere but at Ezra’s backside. And when the first seal was spotted, Ezra pitched himself over the side of the boat. The seals circled Ezra, the pelt in their strong jaws. Once he had it in his hands, something in him changed. With a momentary look at Thomas, he galvanized his plan and his promise, then dove deep into the fathoms, wrapping himself in the seal-coat.

Down, down Ezra went, the pelt and he merging, coming together like raindrops. Bubbles whirled around him, and his seal brothers stayed close to his side. They broke the surface, breaching high in the air, seawater rained down on Thomas and the little outboard. Back in the seal skin, Ezra's lungs grew stronger, and his sleek hydrodynamic body flew through the water. He could not help but show off a few corkscrews, twisting easily, but while his body seemed to celebrate, his mind was on Cee, on reaching the boat before the unthinkable. On he pressed, when his mind gravitated to you pain gripped his chest, then anger would rise again. This cycle continued, round and round, until he could see another seal, a smaller one. He broke the surface for air, and there was Cee, who slammed into him barking and butting her head against his. His barks are stern, eyes searching her.

‘Yer free! What happened?’

Cee told Ezra the tale of her capture and the threats she heard.

‘Chewed clear through the-’ She barked triumphantly, then her brown eyes turned wide. ‘What are you doing here? Like that?’

‘I could never leave you to break free on your own, Cee. Never.’ Ezra rubbed his face on Cee’s.

‘But-’

‘That is not for now. Go to the Rock, get to them. Tell them what happened. I have to see about the Kelly Boys. I will do more than shred their nets’ His bark was a snarl, then Ezra kissed Cee’s brow and took off in the direction Cee had come. He sent the other seals with his daughter, wanting to keep them out of harm’s way.

Ezra fumed. He tried not think on the notion that he needlessly donned his pelt. But he did, and with every passing moment, he was prepared to take down the vessel plank by plank.

Finally, it came into view, he took one more deep breath before going below with no plan to come up until he was on them. Ezra smirked at the ship, it was smaller than a mackerel yowl. He sped up to grab the remains of Cee’s net in his strong jaws and then under the boat he went. The boat lurched, and when he was sure he had gotten their attention, he wrapped the net in the rudder and prepared to board.

Ezra reveled in their shock-turned-horror, from the moment Colin and Jamie grasped what was happening when the first cleat was pulled from the stern after the line got fully tangled in the rudder to the moment he shot out of the water and landed square on the mainsail, still in a harbor furl, and there came a mighty crack. Colin came at Ezra. For any other man, under any other circumstance, Ezra would have admired his puck. But not him, not the man who seems hellbent on your pain. Ezra’s powerful jaws closed on his arm, and there, too, was a satisfying crack, and the taste of blood. Jamie was knocked off the starboard side, and Ezra brought a half-conscious Colin over the side with him. When the cleat broke free, it left a length of line, now attached to the rudder, Ezra took it up in his mouth and wrapped it three times around the two men. Binding them together, to bear the fate they offered up his Cee. He knew no power would offer them reprieve. No silken pelt would save them from their fate. Then he bashed the hull of the boat like a bull until its foundering was assured. When his work was done, Ezra left when without a backward glance.

It is just you and Rory, on Widow’s Rock. You know soon it will be too chilly, that you will have to bring your wee one inside, but for now, you just cannot bring yourself to leave. You need to know Ezra is safe, that he has not come to harm while doing whatever he has done.

“He will come, you know.”

You smile sadly and pat the rock for Cee to sit upon.

“I know. If he can, he will.”

Having gone back to the house, Cee is dressed in some of your old clothes, the blanket folded over her arm. She opens it and wraps you and Rory in it, and you give her a watery smile, then you look back out over the water, hoping to catch a glimpse.

The three of you sit in silence, waiting. Cee smiles first.

Ezra swims up, and you can not help the tearful laughter of relief as he bobs in front of you. His brown eyes, full of sorrow. He comes closer and rests his head on your knee, eyes going from you to Rory and back.

“M'fhíorghrá (MEER-ggrah), my Ezra,” your hand goes to the side of your seal man’s muzzle. He leans in as you caress it. Your tears continue. “‘tis true, we never did finish discussing my joining you in the sea. But we don need to. Mo ghrá, there is nothing else to discuss. I will join you. You have to know I would. Without hesitation!”

Ezra looks at Cee.

“It will have to be. For the magic to work, you must be without reservation,” Cee explains. Ezra keeps a close eye on your reaction, then barks and whines. You look at Cee. “Da said, it is his turn to feel selfish. That he is taking you from what you love.”

Your lips purse in a tight smile, thinking of that day, when he first came to you. Turning, you hand Rory to Cee, and give her the blanket. Then you slip off your shoes and off the rock, then into the cold water. Ezra’s eyes go wide, and then slowly close as you wrap your arms around his neck. His head tucks into the crook of your neck, and his whiskers flex and relax. You stay this way, moments stretching. Only when your start to shiver that you break away from each other.

“What do I need to do, Cee? Please tell me you know.”

“I do, but it can' be done before the full moon.”

The Brennan family sits once more around their supper table, heartsick, but determined to support you. Still, supper sits mostly untouched. Rory, chewing a hard biscuit in the highchair each one of the Brennan children sat in at his age, including your Da.

“Seven Years... What about the baby?”

“He will come with me after I’ve transformed. He is like Cee and will take to it without trial. We just need to prepare him. He will go to the sea, regardless, it’s only a matter of time, he is borne of a selkie man. I will not be parted from my child, nor my love. But Mam, just like Cee, he will be able to visit you any time, even when I can not.”

“When she goes in, it will have to be without qualm, Cee reiterated.

“Which means I - I need to know you to be alright with this choice I am making. Please.”

“What happens if you go in - you go in, and you do have reservations?” Felicia asks.

“She will drown.”

The table silences. You look into each of their eyes, desperate to show your love for them, but your determination to be reunited with Ezra, to have your little family together.

“When I was a child, would you not have followed me, to the moon, if need be? Or Felicia, Hugh, or Thomas?” You look at your parents. Their eyes go bright and with small smiles they nod together, all the assent you need.

Deirdre clears her throat, picks up her fork, and then puts it down again.

“Well, we will have to see about renting one of the Conneeley cottages on the island, then. Much better for Rory’s comings and goings, hmm? What’s the difference, fishing from Rón Inis or here? Hugh, you can go with yer Da and get off to school.” Patrick chuckles, and Hugh looks stunned.

You too are stunned. Whether all of that comes to be or not, your family… your dear family-

“Thank you, Mam, Da- everyone.”

You count down the days. Back on the island, you and Rory go to the water to meet Ezra, and the three of you play with the water. Rory slaps at it and kicks his little feet. Laughing when it comes and trying to follow when it retreats. You can not understand Ezra’s bark exactly, but Rory listens like he does. One morning, changing his nappy, you notice webs between his fingers, you check, and they are between his toes, as well. You wonder if he will leave before the full moon, and you have to remind yourself that you are not being left behind.

“Look at you, more and more like your father each day.”

When you meet Ezra at the water’s edge for Rory’s “lessons”, you show him. Ezra lets out a barking laugh, rolling in the surf. This brings other seals to the beach, Rory laughs at their joyous antics, his dark eyes smiling. Ezra presses against you as he watches his little boy, and then you feel his snout nuzzle you. When you lean into it, Ezra rumbles in his throat and suddenly throws himself into the surf, gamboling excitedly.

You watch the moon swell each night, missing Ezra’s human touch. Knowing what he meant when you told you the bed was too big. You tell yourself it will not matter when you are a seal as well. You hope.

“Well dear, I think you are correct. As a seal, you will be able to,” Tilda clears her throat delicately, “commune with him in a way that will not leave you wanting. I am sure of that.”

“I am truly sorry, Tilda” you cringe, “to be so brash, but-”

“I am glad you came to talk, you must sort out these thoughts, so you are ready with your whole heart for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you echo. You examine the flip of your stomach. Realizing they are butterflies of excitement. Hoping they are, only, butterflies of excitement.

You talk and she feeds you, and when you leave you feel better. Not only incredibly full of food and still holding on to the warmth of Tilda’s hugs, but just having said it out loud, diminished your fears.

After an endless night, the morning breaks, and Cee helps you close up the cottage. Dust covers for the furniture, and all but a few clothes are boxed up to go to your sister’s, Cee makes sure there is little food to bring to your parents’ with the help of her bottomless stomach. Your mother is adamant that they are moving to the island, and Tilda is for it, but it takes time to move them. For now, Rory’s things are to be left at the cottage, but you box it all up for them.

By lunch, everything is ready, and your brother comes in the jon boat to help bring your things back.

You had thought your transformation would happen off Rón Inis. 'No Widow’s Rock is better,' Cee had told you. When you pondered if it was due to you and Ezra meeting there, if the magic was deeper, Cee shrugged and said, 'Probably, but honestly, Widow’s Rock has deeper waters surrounding it at hightide'… she is a practical girl. You had lunch with your family, Cee, Tilda, and Fergus. It seemed some rumors had started going round, especially after Jamie’s boat was found. Your cousin Courtney, for whom you stood as her Maid of Honor, ended up at your parents’ doorstep.

She met Cee, and Rory. Then she cried and told you she was pregnant and wished the babies could be friends. You gave her a hug and went to your childhood bedroom with your sister. ‘I have to be without regret, I can’t be worrying about Courtney’, you told her, and Felicia threatened to tell her off.

As the moon rises, in a simple dress, you stand on Widow’s Rock, the water lapping at your feet. Your family watches from high on what is left of the beach, the full moon’s high tide taking more of it than usual. Seals watch from the rocks further out. Ezra, Cee, and Rory are in shallow waters where the land and ocean meet. You think only of your goal, your desire. Your goodbyes have been made, besides it’s not goodbye. It is 'until we meet again', your Da had said. And you repeated, 'until we meet again'. You look at Ezra, Rory, and Cee. Ezra is itching to be with you. You can see it in his keen eyes. Cee holds Rory, who watches with interest at what his mummy is up to. Ezra nudges Cee, and with a nod, she calls -

“It is time.”

Without hesitation, you plunge into the deep waters. Opening your eyes in the cold and dark as you come out of your dive and break the surface, the water is like glass. Kicking your feet to stay afloat as you unbutton your dress, trying not to think too much about your family on the shore. You let the dress go. Then, turning to orient yourself toward Ezra and Cee, you await what is to come next. But there is no more instruction. Seals and selkies you presume, slip gracefully into the water from the rocks and encircle you. You know you need to take deep breaths and ready your lungs. As they surround you, long trails of seaweed in their mouths. As Cee had explained, you take the ends of several and hold them at your chest and the seals circle winding the kelp tightly, binding your arms across your chest. You can hear Cee talking, but it's not to you, perhaps an explanation to your family. With your arms bound, your legs work harder. Soon, there is a tickle of vegetation against your legs. You marshal your breath, deep and controlled. It will happen soon. You can still hear Cee. She’s a good girl, you think, as you begin to sink, one last breath to take in and hold. Not that you expect it to save you, just give you time. To your family, you think, don be afraid. Legs and arms bound tight by the wrappings. All you can do is sink below. Was that Ezra calling you, barking for you? Sounds muffle. You can still see the moon. You focus on it. The seals orbit. Your lungs scream, and you try not to let your body's instinct to thrash take over as bubbles start to rise from your nose. You can not hold onto that last precious breath of air any longer. You only feel the animals now, their flippers grazing you gently.

'Tabhair chugam mo chóta róin síoda' (tur xu’m mu xo t-uh roan shi d-uh), you think just as everything goes black, 'Ezra, m’fhíorghrá, táim réidh.' (MEER-ggrah, Tam REEg)

(Translation: Bring me my silken coat, Ezra, my true love, I am ready)

Ezra watches your slow descent into the sea, he waits as the surf pulls at him just as every instinct in his body and mind is screaming to go after you, but to go in early could ruin all. He looks to Cee, knowing she will be the one thinking more clearly on it. She is watching the spot where you disappeared below the surface. His worried eyes follow hers just as bubbles appear, and he can hear your family murmuring. Then the murmuring turns to keening.

Ezra crashes into the water, and like a bullet, he speeds to you. You aren't far, and seals still swim around you. Ezra sees you when they break formation. Broken ribbons of seaweed still wrapped around your form. He comes in and kisses your muzzle, nips your neck, and starts to pull away the let over bindings.

You startle awake, eyes opening wide, and you see Ezra. He kisses and wraps himself around you as you rise through the depths, to the world above. Your sleek body is now perfectly suited to the cold waters.

The cheers and cries of relief sound when you breach and make for land.

On the strand, right where you left them is Cee and Rory. You come up to them, Ezra by your side. Cee puts Rory down, and he pats your head, and Ezra barks a laugh.

"Alright Rory, your turn," Cee says.

How will you ever fully repay Cee? She is still a child and has been a teacher and guide, like no other.

Rory slips into the water like the little Waterbaby he is, between you and Ezra. You feel him beside you, rolling in the surf, instinct telling him what to do. His hand runs down your flank, you feel his little feet, then after another roll, they no longer feel like hands and feet but flippers, his soft skin now furry. You lift a flipper to look between Ezra and yourself, and there is a fluffy seal pup, barking happily.

You cover him in kisses, barking, 'What a clever boy you are'.

Ezra nudges him with his nose and kisses his head.

Your human family rushes to you, cheering and well-wishing. You look up at them all, and you hope your face can express how much you love them and how you can never fully express how much their support has meant.

In all the commotion, Cee's transformation has gone unnoticed until she is in the water with you, a seal again.

The four of you bark happily at the Brennans and slip into the sea. One backward glance sees them waving.

You know that for your family seven years with feel like a long time, but you will be back.

You and Ezra, with Rory and Cee, make for Ròn Ins, the Island of the Seals with your selkie family, whole and safe.

"And just before the stroke of midnight, they have made it back to sea

And she's donned that magic seal-coat and become a maid selkie.

Now they've gone into the ocean, hand in hand into the sea,

She has gone along -- a fair seal-bride for her selkie."

The Maiden and the Selkie (Heather Dale)

Epilogue

Seven years later…

Your Mam had done as she promised. She, your Da, and brother Hugh moved house to the island. Felicia and her husband moved into the Brennan house behind the fishmongery, and Thomas stayed on the mainland as well, working the family business.

Your time as a seal moved quickly, and you loved it. You visited both the strand of your village and the sands Ròn Ins to see your family, but you looked forward to being able to talk to them, and hold them.

On the day that marks the seventh year, you and your pod excitedly follow the jon boat that brings Felicia and Thomas to the island. With them is Felicia's husband Dermot, a child, and what looks perhaps like a friend of Thomas'.

On the sand are Dierdre, Patrick, and Hugh, a young man now, cheering your return.

The four of you galumph your way right into your cottage to take off your pelts. Ezra and Cee, of course, pull them off without hesitation. Rory, who has visited his Nana and Granda often over the years, also pulled open the invisible seam without a second thought. You, however, balk. Cee and Rory dress quickly as they make their way out to the many hugs and kisses awaiting them, leaving you with Ezra.

Your beautiful seal man kneels next to you, his warm wide hand cupping your snout.

"Pearl, it is alright, mo stóirín (mu store-EEN), take your time."

You pull at the seam, and your seal-coat pulls away. Your head and shoulders emerge, and your arms come around Ezra's neck. You laugh, and you notice it's a bit more of a bark than before. Half in and out of your silken pelt, Ezra has you, and just as that first night, so long ago he turns you in his strong arms so you are on his lap, as your pelt slips the rest of the way off.

Rocking you slowly, his face in the crook of your neck Ezra murmurs-

"Mo shíorghrá (muh HEER-ggrah), Nil aon tintean mar do thintean fein" (neel ain tintin marr duh hin-tin fane)

"Ezra, m’fhíorghrá, (MEER-ggrah) you are my home."

The End

Gaeilge Translations

Tabhair chugam mo chóta róin síoda, Ezra, m’fhíorghrá, táim réidh Bring me my silken coat, Ezra, my true love, I am ready

Mo stóirín my little treasure/darling

Mo shíorghrá My eternal love

Nil aon tintean mar do thintean fein there is no hearth like your own hearth

💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚

If you care to read more of my stories you can find my masterlist here and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.

A/N: Well, we've reached the end of the tale of the Seven Tears, and I can't lie, I am feeling pretty emotional about it. I am so very grateful to everyone who took the time to read it - waiting for unpredictable updates, including an unintentional break of a year. To those that shared their thoughts about it, sent requests and seal pics and gifs, found comfort in it, and cheered me on, a very special shout out.

Topping out at 21k words (not including the side fics), about the size of a novella, this little story has meant a lot to me. Selkie stories are bittersweet at best, but most often frought with sorrow and yearning for what one can't have. I've always known I would subvert this with my fluff, with the hope it would not come off too... saccharin. I've thought about tinkering with it more, but I think that's down the line. For now, I am content. And I hope you are too, dear readers. 💚

I know I will visit them again, and asks and requests are always welcome.

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect au #ezra prospect x you #ezra x you #ezra x f!reader #selkie ezra #selkie!ezra x f!reader #selkie #seven tears #pedro pascal character fic #pedrostories #selkie au

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supernaturalgirl20 · 2 years

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Monster Fucking

Pairings: werewolf!Ezra x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, claiming a mate, breeding, monster fucking, being chased, dubious consent.

This was unnatural. You knew it was but fuck it felt so damn good.

He’d told you about his condition. What happened every month on the full moon and rather than be terrified you were intrigued. Ezra let you stay for the change and when you didn’t run he fell in love a little more.

The beast was friendly towards you and Ezra said after the second month that it thought you were its mate. That it wanted to breed you and fuck if your cunt didn’t ache after that. It made sense though given the relationship between you and Ezra.

Now, you were pushed into the dirt, leaves and sticks scratching your bare skin as the beast sniffed along your naked form. It howls into the air as its huge claws dig into the earth beside you. Turning your head slightly, you're met with those familiar eyes, honeyed brown.

Its tongue licks your face before it runs down along your body and back again. Its teeth - big and sharp - clamp around your neck, holding you in place. It’s cock - which is large and thick - prods at your entrance and you worry you won’t be able to fit it.

A growl emanates from deep within its chest as it sheathes itself so deep inside you. A hiss escapes your lips from the burn of it. Ezra would give you time to adjust to his size but the beast pulls out and thrusts back in hitting you deep. He continues to move in and out of you and the force of his thrusts have you moving along the ground.

You can’t move. When you try it’s teeth bare into your flesh a little tighter letting you know who’s in charge. It’s cock floods with your arousal as you come with a scream. He growls into your neck and the vibrations have you coming again. Fuck, this definitely won’t be a one time thing.

His cock feels bigger. Like the bulb is head is growing inside you and you vaguely remember reading something about this. It removes its teeth as it comes with a howl, cock pulsating inside you filling you with its hot seed.

After what feels like hours but is merely moments the beast pulls out, its large tongue lapping at your puckered lips. You mewl at the sensation and your body grows heavy with sleep. Eyes slowly closing you feel light as the beast lifts you and you snuggle into its back fur letting sleep consume you.

When you wake the beast is gone, finding Ezra in its wake. His handsome face is resting on the pillow beside you, eyes gazing at you as you with such adoration. “Good morning, moonbeam.”

“Hmm, morning Ez.”

“I hope I wasn’t too rough last night? You aren’t hurt are you?”

You reach up and pull him into a chaste kiss. “No, Ez. It was perfect. I do prefer you as you are but I’m not opposed to being fucked by the beast again.” He raises an eyebrow and a smirk edges its way onto his face. “Oh yeah?”

“Hmm, Hmm.”

“Are you opposed to me fucking you right now, moonbeam?”

“Not one bit.”

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @hungrhay @tusk89

Ezra: @hb8301 @stevie75 @readsalot73 @bbyanarchist @a3trogirl @absolutegeek

#pedro pascal #ezra x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #werewolf!ezra x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #ezra prospect au #kinktober 2022

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mjpens · 2 years

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Mailman Ezra is friends with all the cats on his mail run

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect au #prospect au #Pedro pascal #maia draws

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absurdthirst · 8 months

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An American in Paris {Ezra x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: Mentions of war/missing limbs, flirting, innuendo, oral sex(female receiving), body image issues, vaginal sex, loss of virginity, miscommunication, secrets revealed, angst, making up, happing endings

Comments: When you escape your family's expectations by fleeing to Paris, you meet an ex-pat named Ezra who stayed after the war. Touring the city with him, you fall in love until your past catches up to you.

A/N: Post WWII AU - set 10 years after war, mentions of finishing school but no mentions of skin tone or hair texture

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Ezra (Prospect) MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here

Paris. The sounds of hammers and grunts of men working mingle with the hustle and bustle of the city. The sight and air of restoration and recovery nearly compete after the devastation of the war. There wasn’t as much as in some of the countryside, where the worst of the fight took place. Still, the scars of brutality of men can be seen on the roads and buildings, much like they can be seen when glancing at Ezra.

Finding comfort in the sounds and lights, he walks down the streets where he had once patrolled with a gun. No longer wearing the uniform of his former country, his now ex-pat status in this country is accepted since he can fluently speak the language. Almost feeling more at home here than he ever had in Tensa Parish, feeling a little morbid about returning to the city that had claimed his youth to the horrors of war, and his arm in battle. Over his shoulder, a bag contains the makings for a lovely, simple meal, and a bottle of wine to take the edge off the phantom pains that plague him from time to time, but it’s been nearly ten years since the war and he has gotten accustomed to dealing with the issues that come from losing his right arm.

You glance up at the building, suitcase in hand, and sigh as you try to speak to the building owner in French. Your finishing school classes allowed you to speak well enough to get by but the owner doesn’t seem to understand you are his new tenant. A man approaches, a bag slung over his shoulder and the owner’s eyes widen.

“Ah Ezra!” The man proceeds to rattle off French words faster than you can understand them and the man hums, nodding his head.

He turns to you and tilts his head, “American?” He asks and you nod, “yes. From Boston. I just got here. I’m renting 302 and he doesn’t understand that I am the new tenant.” You explain and Ezra nods, turning towards the owner to explain who you are and Louis finally goes “ahhh.”

He opens the door behind him and reaches for your other suitcases, helping you into the building. “Thank you so much. I’m not sure how I can repay you.” You tell Ezra but he shakes his head.

“My pleasure, chérie.” He says and wishes he could assist with your luggage but he doesn’t have a free hand. You’re guided to 302 and Ezra follows, standing outside 301. “It appears we are to be neighbors.” Ezra says softly as Louis unlocks your front door and sets your suitcases down.

“Then I must cook you dinner to repay you for your assistance.” You tell him and your eyes drift down to the hanging arm of his jacket, noticing his missing arm. You quickly avert your eyes, focusing on his handsome face.

Ezra notices your glance at his arm, or lack of one, and slides into a self deprecating grin of amusement. “Couldn’t pay my rent, one month.” He jokes. “Louis is a man who takes his pound of flesh.”

You giggle at his joke as Louis shifts to grab your key off of his heavy ring of keys. “I’ll be sure to pay my rent on time to avoid suffering the same fate.” You joke softly, “but I insist on dinner one night.” You tell him, wanting to make sure you know your neighbor in this new life you’re creating for yourself.

Ezra nods, “very well, chérie. I shall inquire once you’ve settled into your new abode.” Ezra says and you offer him a smile.

“Merci.” You tell Louis who nods and you step into your new apartment.

“Another American.” Louis says to Ezra after you’ve shut the front door to 302. “And a pretty one at that. If you don’t go to dinner, then I will.” Louis winks and makes his way downstairs. Ezra chuckles, shaking his head at the sneaky old man.

****

It’s been a few days since you arrived in Paris and you’ve spent that time organizing your new apartment. It needed some cleaning and you have ventured out to buy groceries. You are struggling with the bags up the stairs when you see Ezra again. “Let me assist you, ma’am. Well, as best as I can.” Ezra reaches for one bag and you thank him.

“Anything helps. I am not used to the stairs just yet.” You admit and start to ascend the steps.

“One of the many benefits of living in Paris is the exercise you will become accustomed to.” Ezra follows you up the stairs respectfully keeping his eyes off your ass. Though he does get a few glimpses of your silky slip. You are a gorgeous little bird. No doubt about that, but he is sure you are not looking for a man like him to be eyeing you.

“I am sure I’ll be whizzing up and down these stairs soon enough. The cobblestones and my heels…now that’s a different story.” You chuckle, sighing in relief when you make it to the third floor. Ezra follows you to your door and you set the bags down as you reach into your purse for your key. “I appreciate your assistance, Ezra. For the second time. I really do owe you a dinner now. I have enough food. If you do not have plans, would you like to join me for dinner this evening?” You ask him, biting your lip as he sets the bag down next to your feet.

Your eyes are bright and almost pleading with him to accept your invitation. He wonders if you are lonely since he has not heard anyone knock on your door since you have moved in. “Only if you will permit me to bring the libations for this evening?” He asks, offering a small smile. “I know the most delightful champagne that will make you feel as if you are as light as a bird.”

Your answering grin makes his heart thump, unbeknownst to you, and you nod your agreement. “Very well. Champagne and I shall cook. See you at seven?” You ask and he nods. “Excellent.” You turn to unlock your door, “see you at seven, Mr. Ezra.” You smile and bend down to pick up your bags. “Don’t be late.” You warn playfully, stepping into your apartment.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He promises and you shut the door behind you.

****

“Shit.” You hiss to yourself as the water boils over. It’s been hard to cook on a stove you aren’t familiar with and you struggle to make sure everything is ready as there’s a knock on the door. You sigh, rushing over to the mirror to check your appearance and you struggle to remove the apron around your waist before you compose yourself and open the door to Ezra.

“Good evening, chérie.” He smiles and you can’t help but smile back, “come in.” You insist and step aside for him.

Stepping into the apartment, Ezra smiles at the way your own balcony doors are thrown open like his. “Dinner smells delectable, little bird.” He turns around with the champagne bottle tucked j def his arm. “Shall you show me the ice box to stow this in, or shall we open it now?” He doesn’t know how much longer you have for dinner to be ready or if you would rather wait to have the bubbly with the meal.

“Let’s open it now.” You tell him, “dinner is nearly ready. I just need to mash the potatoes.” You walk over to the cabinet to take out two of the four glasses that came with this apartment. “Not exactly ideal for champagne but it will have to do.” You tell him, setting the short glasses down on the table.

“It all tastes the same.” He winks and manages to take the foil off of the bottle. You want to ask if he needs help but he tucks the bottle under his arm and twists his hand, popping the cork and you are surprised at how agile he is. He pours two glasses and you take the glass he holds out towards you.

“A toast to two Americans in Paris?” You ask and he nods, “two Americans in Paris. Let us find what we are looking for in these cobbled streets.” He toasts and you clink your glass against his.

Taking a sip, you hum in surprise at how delicious the champagne is. “So what brought you to Paris?” You ask him, curiosity getting the better of you.

He had known you would ask. It’s natural to be curious, just like he is curious of you. Setting his drink down, his hand unconsciously reaches for his missing limb, grasping the small nub that is left where his shirt is neatly pinned up. “I was here in the war.” He explains, his voice low and reflective. “I am sure you are much too innocent to remember the horrors.” You have to be in your early - maybe mid - twenties, just experiencing your first burst of freedom. “I came back two years later, feeling more at home here than where I am from.”

You aren’t surprised. Back home, a lot of men came back with injuries. Physical or mental. They were never the same so you can understand why he wanted to leave. “You’re from…Louisiana?” You ask, figuring out his accent, and he nods, “born and raised.” You smile, “that explains the accent. I like it. It’s smooth. Like whiskey.” You compliment him and take another sip of the champagne.

“What’s your story, little bird?” Ezra wants to change the subject, his heart aching at all the other information that you would have no interest in. “I must confess that I was surprised to find you alone with no chaperone, though times are changing.”

“Times are changing.” You echo, setting your glass down so you can drain the potatoes to mash them. “I - I wanted to escape.” You answer honestly, “to explore and find myself. All my life…I’ve been what my parents wanted me to be. I attended finishing school in London and after returning to Boston, I found that I didn’t belong there anymore. I decided to come to Paris, explore myself and this beautiful city. My parents weren’t happy but I had to grow up.” You confess and turn around to finish cooking the dinner.

He senses that there is more to your story but he doesn’t push. Knowing that he is just a stranger and not a confidant. “You have chosen a wondrous time to come, little bird. Paris at night is magnificent. Have you gone out to explore the city so far?”

“Not yet.” You admit, “I find myself falling asleep while reading guide books and I suppose I need to summon the courage to get out there and explore. The museums, especially. The Eiffel Tower. The Arc de Triomphe. There’s so much to see.” You confess and mash the potatoes.

“If you would permit me,” Ezra hums, biting his lip before he continues. “I could extend my own presence as a makeshift guide? I have spent extensive hours roaming this fair city and speak fluently.” He smiles. “I can give you the experience you wish, if you can bear my poor company for extended periods of time.”

You plate up the meal and smile to yourself as you turn back towards him to set his dinner down in front of him. “I will certainly take you up on that offer, Ezra. I wish to see the real Paris. The tourist things too, but I want to know the true Paris. It’s people. It’s food. The secret places.” You confess, setting your own plate down and you sit down.

“It’s food is delicious and the people are not as unfriendly as some would claim.” He wishes he could help you, offer a hand, but he offers a toast. “To Paris being exactly what you want.”

You clink your glass with his, a smile on your face. “To Paris being exactly what we want.” You correct and he hums, taking a sip of champagne. “Please, dig in. I’m not the best cook, but chicken and mashed potatoes, I can do.” You tell him, picking up your knife and fork.

“Cherie, it is a meal that I did not have to labor over myself.” Ezra reminds you. “It will taste like the most delicate foie gras I have ever sampled.” The use of a fork and knife at the same time is impossible, but instead of asking you to cut up his food, Ezra picks up his knife to attempt to cut the chicken without pushing food around too badly.

You bite your lip as you watch him try to cut into the chicken. You decide to help and you haven’t cut into your dinner yet so you move fast to cut up the chicken. Once it’s all cut, you reach out to swap your plate with his. Acting fast once again to cut up your own chicken and you set your knife down, just using your fork like he is.

“Thank you.” His voice is low, slightly embarrassed by the fact that you needed to cut up his meal as if he was still a child. He had come a long way in the last ten years but he still couldn’t do some things without a second hand. “I apologize for any grief that it might have caused.”

You tut, “don’t be silly. I can’t understand how difficult it is for you. It’s nothing for me to help.” You shake your head and start to eat using your fork. You want him to be comfortable in your home and he’s the only person you know in Paris.

Ezra’s smile turns onto you with simple pleasure. “You should not have feared about your cooking, little bird.” He assures you after the first bite. “It is divine to sample your culinary skills.”

You smile, pleased that he likes your cooking. “Thank you. Looks like I got something for that God awful finishing school I went to.” You chuckle softly and watch him enjoy the food. “I will have to cook for us more often. A balance between savoring the rich food of Paris and some home comforts. I make a mean fried chicken.” You tell him with a wink, enjoying his company despite harshly knowing much about him. “So how do you spend your days? Are you working?”

“I do not work.” Ezra admits, shrugging slightly. “My check from the military covers my expenses, although I do write poetry, badly might I add.” His words are wonderful, but he had yet to master writing left handed. “Sometimes I will deliver papers if I am bored or wish to have more money in my pockets. Or translate.”

You lean a little closer, “I should like to hear some of your poetry sometime.” You tell him, “and if you ever need someone to write for you, I am more than happy to volunteer my hand.” You say and fluster slightly when you realize how that sounds.

His thoughts are more than obscene as he imagines your soft looking hand wrapped around his cock. It would look much better than his own. “I will have to take you up on that.” He murmurs, enjoying the way your eyes flutter in embarrassment and you look down at your plate.

You clear your throat and scoop up some mashed potatoes. “Have you found love in the city of light?” You ask with slight curiosity. “Perhaps a beautiful French woman to occupy your days when you aren’t writing poetry.” You muse, your gaze flicking up to him.

“I fear that love has eluded me.” Ezra murmurs quietly. “Perhaps I am not looking in quite the correct spaces.” Your lip pulls between your teeth and he has the urge to bite it, then kiss away the sting. “Although perhaps a muse is right in front of me.”

You playfully glance behind you until you turn back to meet his dark gaze. “Me? I am no muse.” You assure him, “but perhaps we will discover one during our sightseeing. I- I am afraid I am of no use. I’ve never been in love.” You admit with a sigh, “my experiences would not assist you in your poetry.”

“Then perhaps I shall be granted the glorious privilege of witnessing your fall into the depths of amorous pleasure.” He smiles. “You are a beautiful woman and no doubt many men will court you. Wine and poetry, dancing and romance.”

You fluster again at him calling you a beautiful woman, ducking your head, “perhaps. We shall see.” You hum, picking up your glass of champagne and you admire him. He’s a handsome man, weathered like so many after enduring the war, but his eyes are sparkling and you know it would be easy to fall into their depths. He mentions other men when your current wish is for him to court you. “Shall we begin our exploration of Paris tomorrow? Unless you have other plans.” You add, not wanting to push yourself onto him if he is busy.

“I am at your disposal.” He nods his head and smirks when you fluster again. Wondering what could be going through your pretty head. “Whatever you wish to do.”

You hum, “I would like to go to the Louvre. There’s so many wonderful pieces. Pieces I’ve read about and I want to wander the halls and admire the beautiful art.” You admit, picking up your fork to finish your meal.

“It is a date.” Ezra hums. “I know of a charming cafe where we can have lunch if you would like to join me. Let me provide a meal for you, although my own cooking skills are non-existence.”

You nod, watching him finish his meal. “It’s a date.” You repeat, heart beating faster at the thought and you imagine walking along the Seine by his side, enjoying the city and his southern drawl. “Now…I got an apple tart for dessert. You fancy a slice?” You ask, standing up to take the empty plates.

“I must confess I am in possession of an enormous sweet tooth.” Ezra groans at the idea of a sweet dessert, and he loves apple tarts. “I would be honored to sample your tart, chérie.”

You giggle as you carry the plates over to the sink, working fast to cut a decent slice of tart for you and Ezra. “I picked it up from the patisserie down the street, I hope it’s good.” You tell him as you sit down and pick up the smaller fork you had set out. “I love sweet things too.” You confess with a smile.

“Then we will get along perfectly.” Ezra winks and groans at the sight of the tart. “It is delicious looking, little bird.” He promises.

You and Ezra enjoy dessert with comfortable silence and when it’s finished, you gather the plates to wash. “I best be leaving you to your peace. I’m certain you want to be with your thoughts after so long of hearing me wittering on.” Ezra says as he stands up from the table.

“Absolutely not. You’re a great dinner guest. If you wish to leave, I shall see you tomorrow for our lunch and Louvre date.” You giggle and Ezra nods.

“I’ll call for you around eleven.” He says and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for the delectable dinner, chérie. I will return the favor with a less deadly dinner cooked by a professional lest I am unable to cook.” He jokes and you grin, shaking your head as you escort him to your front door.

“Sounds like a plan. Goodnight Ezra.” You say as you lean against the door frame.

“Goodnight little bird.” He returns and steps into the hall. You watch him for a moment as he retreats to his apartment next door and then you close the door, leaning against it to close your eyes. You’ve never met anyone like Ezra. Certainly never met anyone who makes you feel like he does. After you wash up, you’ll pick out your outfit. You want to look good for Ezra, and hopefully he likes what he sees.

The next morning, Ezra takes great pains with his appearance. Waking up early, he decided to treat himself to a shave and a haircut from the barber down the street, knowing that he can often miss small patches of hair and he wants to be worthy of your presence. He dresses smart, his button down shirts slightly larger than fitted so he can slide them on without fiddling with the buttons. Once eleven comes, he steps out of his door with a small clutch of flowers he had impulsively purchased on the way back from the barber.

You inhale deeply, adjusting your dress for the umpteenth time, and you take a beat before you walk over to open the door to Ezra. "Good morning." You smile when you see him, his hair slicked back and freshly shaven. He looks handsome and your heart thumps in your chest. "You look handsome." You tell him, wanting him to know you appreciate the effort he's clearly put in. You hope he likes your efforts.

“Little bird,” Ezra slowly peruses your appearance, enjoying the way your hips sway slightly as you twirl around. “For the first time in my loquacious existence, you have rendered me speechless with your exquisite beauty.” He proses breathlessly. “While I must apologize for my own humble appearance, you would outshine the brightest star in the night’s sky.” He extends the flowers to you. “A humble offering to a veritable goddess.”

His words combined with the look in his eyes has you breathless, your jaw dropping slightly and your stomach twists. "I - you are a wonderful poet, Ezra. Truly, you've - no one has ever been so poetic about my appearance. Especially when I will be walking alongside such a handsome gentleman. Thank you, these are beautiful." You take the flowers, your fingers brushing his, and you bring them to your nose to sniff them. "I will put them in water and get my things." You smile, turning to walk towards the kitchen.

He’s proud that he could put such a look on your face, the quiet pride of a compliment. He believes it to be true however, you are a goddess and he is fortunate that you speak to him. Many beautiful women have uncomfortably avoided him, as if his loss of limb at the scar on his cheek were from accosting a woman. When you return he offers his one remaining limb. “Shall we?”

"We shall." You smile, taking his arm after you lock your front door, and you let him guide you down the stairs and out onto the bustling streets of Paris. Springtime in Paris is beautiful. The breeze, the flowers, it's incredible. "No wonder you wanted to return here. Paris is...unlike any place I have ever known. It has an aura around it that seems magical." You sigh.

Ezra chuckles, "clearly you have not been to Boulevard de Clichy."

Your eyes widen, aware that the Moulin Rouge is there. "I wouldn't mind going there. To explore all of Paris." You say timidly, hoping he doesn't think you are scandalous.

Grinning, Ezra wishing he could pat your hand. “Then we shall have to make plans to go one evening.” He decides. “Dinner and dancing. Allow me to show you the more….jubilant side of the city.” He hums, imagining the wonder in your eyes. Would you be scandalized or enchanted with the display of eroticism? He feels the passionate side of you would be enchanted. “Perfectly respectable with an escort.”

You smile, pleased he isn't scandalized by your request. "That's a date." You squeeze his arm and he winks at you, making your heart stutter. You've never felt like this before, so smitten by a man so quickly. You know you must remain friends to preserve the only friendship you have managed to discover thus far in the city.

"Here we are." Ezra declares when you arrive outside of the cafe, reluctantly letting go of your arm to greet the cafe owner.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Ezra." The owner greets him and Ezra nods, unable to shake his hand. You are escorted to a small table in the window and Ezra uses his hand to pull your chair out.

"Thank you." You smile as you sit down and take the menu.

“As you might have deduced, little bird, I am a frequent patron of this establishment.” He hums, nodding towards the menu. “Everything is splendid, although the quiche and Croque Monsieur are particular favorites of mine.”

You hum, “the quiche sounds good.” You look over the menu for a few more moments before you set it down. The waiter comes over and Ezra orders a glass of white wine, asking if you want the same and you agree. The waiter takes your order and you listen to Ezra order in perfect French and you fluster as you try your best to order. When the waiter leaves, you glance out of the window, admiring the Parisians leaving.

“Do not fret, little bird.” He assures you, watching as you turn your head to look at him again. “Your French is solid and you will only improve as you are immersed in the language.” He promises. “Often I do translations and I will assist you however I can.”

You reach for his hand, squeezing it. “I appreciate your help.” You say and release his hand when the wine glasses are set down in front of you. “To new friendships.” You toast, clinking your glass against his.

Ezra nods, smiling as he takes a sip of the wine he always enjoys. Somehow improved by your company. “So the Louvre today. I feel like we should be able to spend a lovely afternoon there.”

You nod, sipping the wine before you set it down. “Yes. I am excited. I studied art at finishing school so it will be wonderful to see so many famous pieces in real life. I am sure you’ve been before and are going to be utterly bored.” You joke, keeping your eyes on his.

“I assure you, every visit to the Louvre is special.” Ezra smiles. “But this visit might be the most special. The company is much better than my own.”

You fluster once more at his words, aware that you barely know the man but you can’t deny that he makes your stomach twist with desire. The food arrives and you start to eat, groaning at how delicious it is. “Oh my God. This place is a gem.” You tell Ezra after you swallow your first bite.

Your groan is sensual, almost erotic and Ezra’s cock twitches at the sound. He grins at you. “Do you see why I enjoy it so much, little bird?” He muses, picking up his own sandwich and taking a bite before setting it down to wipe his mouth. Just because he had one less arm does not mean he is lacking manners.

“Absolutely. I love it.” You promise, “it’s going to be a favorite of mine in days to come.” You assure him, taking another sip of your wine. After you’ve both polished off your delicious lunch, Ezra pays despite your protest.

“You made dinner last night. It’s the least I could do.” He tells you and you nod, “fine but I’ll be making dinner again.” You promise and he nods, “and I’ll bring more champagne.”

You stand up after he pays the bill. “That sounds like a fine deal to me.” You wink and take his arm as he guides you out onto the street.

The line for the Louvre isn’t incredibly long and soon the two of you are walking into the cool interior. The smell of the building always makes Ezra sigh. The scent of thousands of paintings and pieces giving the air a heady tone. “What shall we take in first, little bird?” He asks, curious to see where your interests will lead you.

You bite your lip, guiding him towards the nearest hallway, eager to see it all. “I want to see everything.” You tell him and he chuckles. You look up at the ceiling in awe of the paintings and the tapestry and you smile at Ezra. “This is incredible.” You exhale in amazement. “Thank you for coming with me.” You tell him as you start to admire the first piece of art.

“You are most welcomed.” Ezra watches you. Smiling as you get lost in the wonder of the museum. Lips parted as you gaze at the beauty in front of you, though he doesn’t even know what you are looking at. Too busy staring at his own version of art.

You don’t notice him staring at you as you admire the piece, in awe of the detail and you turn to finally catch him watching you and you reach up to pat down your hair. “Is there something on my face?” You ask, touching your cheek, feeling self conscious.

“Every hair is in place and your skin is as clear as a cloudless sky, chérie.” He assures you, smiling softly. “Forgive my lack of manners. I found your reaction to the art breathtaking.”

You fluster, shaking your head at his insanely generous compliments. “You flatter me too much, Mr. Ezra. I am a mere woman, not a goddess.” You reprimand him softly, “Now, let’s continue before I have no choice but to melt into the marble from your kind words.” You tell him and pat his hand, continuing to walk and admire the art.

“I am mistaken.” Ezra hums, his steps jaunty beside you and he grins when you cock your head in curiosity. “You are an angel, fallen from heaven to walk among us mere mortals.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “then you are the devil himself come to tempt me. With his perfect jaw and that gorgeous nose.” You compliment him, “come to shower me with flattery when it’s he who looks like Adonis.” You murmur, wanting him to feel just as flustered.

He preens, just every so slightly, at your compliments. Shaking his head and winking at you. “Adonis, huh?” He asks, smirking. “I can accept that. As long as my own fair observations are taken as the gospel truth. You know the devil was God’s perfect angel, until he wasn’t.”

You slap his hand playfully, “let’s agree to disagree.” You tell him and he hums, “very well. I am nothing but a gentleman.”

His words still have your stomach twisting and you realize it feels like you’ve known Ezra for your entire life instead of one day. “And when the devil fell from heaven…he was temptation incarnate.” You add playfully.

“And what can I do to tempt you?” He teases, frowning slightly when he realizes how sordid he sounds. “Apologies, little bird,” he murmurs sincerely. “Please do not allow me to make you uncomfortable if I overstep.”

“Do not fret, you aren’t making me uncomfortable. In fact, I like it. I like our banter. As for tempting me…you’re already doing a fine job.” You assure him with a smirk, glancing at the piece of art you stop in front of, feeling his gaze burn into the side of your face.

Ezra hums, wondering what kind of temptation he’s providing. Since the war, his own companionship has been the occasional woman he has paid for a night between her thighs, not ashamed of that, but he knows that he is not a man most would look at as a potential partner. Especially after his return to the states.

You see his curious face and you giggle softly, “come on Ezra. Let’s continue. I want to see the Mona Lisa too.” You stroll through the museum, knowing you won’t be able to see it all but you want to see the pieces you’ve seen in books, that you’ve longed to see in person.

The two of you debate. A friendly conversation about pieces that you come across and observations that have you both in stitches as you continue into the museum and Ezra points out some of his favorite paintings. The hand tucked around his arm slowly morphs into your hand in his, allowing him to point as he brings up your hand with it. Standing in front of his favorite, ‘The Battle Between Love and Chastity’, he hums as he lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back of it.

Your heart thumps at his soft kiss and you offer him a soft smile. “Something you have experience with?” You joke softly and he winks at you, “perhaps.” You giggle and shake your head, looking back at the piece. You’re enjoying holding his hand and admiring the art beside him.

Ezra explains why he loves the piece in great detail, shrugging slightly at his impassioned he had become. “There is something about throwing away society’s expectations that I enjoy.” He tells you with a smile.

You smirk, “that I can already tell and I admire it. Being outside of the social norm. That’s what I wanted to escape. I didn’t want to conform or be a puppet.” You sigh, revealing slightly why you came to Paris. You squeeze his hand, “shall we continue?” You ask, clearing your throat when he starts to open his mouth, clearly wanting to ask questions you don’t want to answer.

“Of course, little bird.” You are not comfortable sharing and he would not dream of pushing you. Nodding, he guides you on to the next exhibit, simply enjoying being your escort.

You explore as much of the museum as you can, spending far too much time exploring the Louvre and soon you are back out on the bustling streets of Paris. “Thank you for today, truly. It’s been a day to remember.” You tell Ezra, squeezing his hand.

“I should be extending my gratitude to you, little bird.” Ezra protests, smiling at the way the low sun shines off your hair. “I cannot recall a more enjoyable or relaxing day.” He tucks your hand back around his elbow. “Perhaps we can reproduce the experience another time?”

“Absolutely.” You assure him, “I would be honored to be escorted around Paris by a handsome man.” You wink at him, “hardly a difficult thing to agree to. Next time though, lunch is on me.”

He shakes his head, knowing that you will argue with him if he insists he pay. “Then I will show you the best little cafes in Paris, you will be astounded with how much there is to offer in just our little neighborhood alone.”

“That sounds like a deal.” You smile at Ezra as he escorts you back to your apartment building. He’s charming and intelligent and you know it’s dangerous to feel this way so quickly but you can’t help it. He’s enchanting. “Today was incredible.” You sigh when you arrive outside of your door, “thank you for spending today with me.”

“The sublime pleasure was exceedingly mine, little bird.” Ezra reaches for your hand to kiss softly. His thumb rubs the skin before he presses his lips to it as he looks up at you. “Your beauty still surpasses all of the greatest works in the Louvre.”

Your heart pounds in your chest and you look at him, “you flatter me far too much.” You softly reprimand him, “especially when you are carved like the Greek statues.” You return his compliment and you love the way he ducks his head shyly.

“Perhaps by the profile with the hawkish nose.” Ezra chuckles. “Although my hair does curl when longer than its current styling.

“I’d like to see that sometime.” You tell him and you lower your hand from his, reaching into your purse to pull your keys out. “Thank you for today, Ezra.” You repeat and lean in to kiss his cheek, taking a beat until you lean back, turning to open your front door. “I’ll be inviting you to dinner again soon.” You warn him playfully, “you’ll be sick of me soon.” You joke, getting your door open and turning back to look at him.

“I am most dubious about that assertion, little bird.” Ezra nods and smiles at you. “May your evening be soft and luxurious.”

His words wash over you, calming you like a warm bath, and you offer him one last smile before you disappear into your apartment. He has wiggled his way into your mind and heart after a ridiculously short amount of time. You know it would be easy to fall in love with him.

****

“Good evening Ezra.” You greet your neighbor when he opens the door to your apartment and strides in. You’re at the stove finishing up dinner and he comes over to set the bottle of wine down on the counter. You’ve spent the past month getting to know the man and you’re in love. He’s smart, charming, and devastatingly attractive. It’s a combination that has you thinking of him nearly every moment of the day.

“Good evening, little bird.” Ezra smiles as he notices the glasses are already set out. “I will pour us a generous serving of wine and set the table if that is agreeable with you?” He has insisted that he help in some small ways since you are feeding him, never allowing him to help clean up.

You nod, “that sounds like a plan.” You turn back to the stove to stir the sauce, wanting him to enjoy this piece of home you’ve decided to cook for him. He works fast to set the table and soon enough, he’s sliding a glass of wine into your hand.

“It smells divine, chérie.” Ezra groans, leaning over to get a better whiff. “I must confess I will need to have the local tailor let out my trousers if you continue to feed me such scrumptious meals.”

You chuckle, “we can always walk more now that the evenings are lighter and the weather is better.” You compromise and he hums, “very well. We can indulge and then walk it off.” He winks and you sip your wine, setting the glass down before you bend over to check the meatloaf.

He can’t help but admire your shapely bottom as you lean over the little oven. Groaning quietly as the racy thoughts filter through his mind and he reminds himself that you are his friend and neighbor.

You stand up, unaware of his internal battle, and you get to work on the mashed potatoes. “Go take a seat. It won’t be long.” You promise and he nods, making his way over to the table with his glass of wine. It’s only another five minutes until you’re plating up the meal and Ezra groans as you set his plate down in front of him. After you’ve sat down with your own plate, you pick up your glass, “to home comforts.” You toast playfully, liking his answering grin as he clinks his glass against yours.

“I must commend you, chérie.” Ezra groans after just one bite of the meatloaf. “When we first met you claimed to be lacking in the culinary arts, yet every meal seems to be near ambrosia.”

You shake your head, “you flatter me far too much. Soon, I won’t be able to fit my head through the door.” You joke and he chuckles, “I am merely stating the truth.” You hum, chewing your first bite and after you swallow you say, “then I guess finishing school wasn’t the waste of money my parents think it was.” You half joke, knowing your parents must be furious at you for leaving without a word. “It’s nice to cook for you. I- I cook with passion instead of duty because I want you to enjoy it.”

“Passion instead of duty is always preferable.” Ezra acknowledges, tilting his head at mention of your parents yet again. You speak of them in a way that makes him believe that they are ashamed of you. “If you will give me your parents address, I will write a strongly worded letter telling them exactly how your finishing school has benefited and that you are a model lady.”

You smile sadly, “I appreciate that but I highly doubt they would believe you.” He chuckles softly, “I said strong worded, little bird. I can be quite convincing.” He assures you and you snort, remembering the time he convinced you to try escargot and you hated it. He had made it sound so delicious.

“Yet you didn’t convince me to enjoy snails.” You retort and he chuckles, shaking his head, “touché.” You continue eating and once you’ve finished, you carry the dishes to the sink and Ezra stands, wanting to help you clean. “Leave them to soak. I want to go dancing tonight. You did promise to take me dancing.” You remind him with a playful nudge.

“If we are going dancing, little bird, you must change into your finest dress.” He hums, wanting to make you smile. “I will change into a suit better suited for escorting a lady as lovely as yourself.” He smirks at his words and winks at you again.

“Meet in twenty minutes so we can get freshened up.” You pat his shoulder and he nods, making his way out of your apartment to get ready. You rush around, changing into your finest dress. It’s bright red and hugs your curves, wanting him to be taken back by your appearance. You’ve known him for a month now and it’s hard to deny that you love him. You’re in love with him. He’s handsome but he’s so much more than that. He’s clever, funny, and he manages to make you feel like you’re walking on air. You fix your hair and makeup and grab your purse, heading to the door after you hear Ezra knock on it.

His hand shakes, pulling it back from the door so he can check his hair once again. He had checked in a charcoal gray suit with a red shirt and back vest. Slicked his hair back and dragged his razor over his jaw so that his skin is smooth, beside his mustache. The cologne was the finishing touch, and he hopes he is presentable for you.

You open the door to him, a wide smile on your face when you see him. “You look so handsome.” You coo, reaching up to caress his cheek, and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it.

“You look like Aphrodite herself. A true vision.” You fluster and squeeze his hand when he lowers it from his lips. “Shall we go?” He asks and you nod, turning to quickly lock your door, and he guides you down the hall and down the stairs, out onto the streets of Paris.

“Now chérie, I am going to take you to a club that is rather….risque.” He announces, grinning at you. “Is that agreeable? You will be perfectly safe, I assure you.”

You nod, “I came to Paris to experience life. I am most agreeable.” You promise and he guides you along the still bustling streets. “Where are we going Ezra?” You ask, curious now that you’re heading out of your normal walking paths.

“Folies Bergère.” Ezra chuckles. “There is also a dance floor after we are inspired by the cabaret dancers.” He wants to take you to a place that is famous and fun. One that you will remember your first experience. “We will drink champagne and dance the night away.”

It sounds like the perfect night and it is. When you arrive, you are escorted to a small table off to the side of the rows of seats and Ezra gestures for you to sit, immediately calling the waiter over to order champagne. “Now this truly feels like Paris.” You declare as you look around the ornate theater, in awe of its grandeur.

“Wait until the performance starts, chérie.” He hums, reaching for your hand as if it is second nature. “I know you are aware of the female form, but the act is nearly erotic in nature and I hope you enjoy it.”

You bite your lip, a little nervous to see what the show will bring and you sip the champagne after it’s poured and Ezra toasts to “new experiences.” You offer him a nervous smile and he winks at you since he’s holding his glass. The lights go down after everyone has taken their seats and you anxiously await the start of the show.

As soon as the music starts, Ezra turns towards you. Wanting to see your reaction as the scantily clad women rush out onto the stage and immediately break into a very perfectly choreographed dance. Every step is perfectly struck and position posed, fun and flirty, sexy and thrilling.

Your eyes widen as the women come onto the stage, starting their routine, and you’ve never seen anything like it. Back home, your parents would’ve had a heart attack at just seeing a woman wearing a dress that clung to her curves. This is beyond that and it’s thrilling. “Oh my God.” You grin, watching the dancers with delight. This is what you wanted, to see things you’ve never seen before.

You are entranced, bewitching to look at and Ezra happily falls under your spell. Watching the lights shine across your face when the spotlights move and your laughter and clapping is the music he hears. He’s fallen in love with you, completely and totally in love. “You’re gorgeous.” He blurts out, flushing slightly when the music is quiet and his proclamation was louder than intended.

There’s a moment where Ezra could have pulled back or rethought the idea that rushes through his mind. He doesn’t though. Caught up in the moment, he lunges forward and presses his lips to your urgently. As if he would expire if he did not sample your lips. Watching your eyes widen in surprise and then start to flutter closed as you moan quietly against his lips.

You reach up to cup his cheek, letting his lips press against yours while the music continues to play. When he pulls back after several moments, you smile and he nudges his nose against yours. "Ezra." You whisper so only he can hear with the music coming to an end and the crowd claps the dancers, making you pull back to look into those dark eyes.

By the time the show is over, Ezra feels tipsy. Not from the champagne, he is drunk on you. The feeling of knowing that his romantic feelings are reciprocated has him flying and he stands, still holding your hand and smiling down at you. “Chérie, would you permit me to escort you to the dance floor, where I might hold you closer than socially acceptable for the duration of as many songs as our feet can tolerate?”

You stand up, letting him guide you to the floor after you say “I’ll dance with you all night, my love.” You let him escort you to the floor where the band is playing and you inhale sharply when his arm pulls you close. You reach up to grip his shoulders, leaning on towards him until your forehead is pressed against his, as tight as you can get while the song plays.

“Little bird, I must confess something.” He whispers, swaying with you gently and wishing that he had his other arm so he could hold more of you. “I must admit that I have fallen for you. Hopelessly and desperately in love with you. With no possible end in sight.”

You giggle, almost drunk off of your emotions, and he leans back, hurt clear on his face but you quickly cup his cheeks, barely swaying as you force his eyes to meet yours. “I’m yours, Ezra. You have my heart, my soul, my body. I love you. Every part of me loves every part of you.” You vow. He’s told you the horrors he endured during his service and it didn’t change a thing.

He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, nuzzling your hand. “Perhap, when you are ready, we might….explore the art depicted in my favorite painting at the Louvre?” He ventures. He would never dream of pressuring you, but he aches to touch you, to caress your skin and lose himself in your body.

You shiver at the suggestion, your body lighting up at the mere thought of him touching you. You slide your hands down to his chest, “I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a while but there’s something you should know.” Your eyes flick up to meet his, “I have never…it’s - you’d be the first.”

Ezra’s breath catches and he stares into your eyes solemnly. “I am honored you would trust me with such a wondrous gift, little bird.” He murmurs softly. “I can assure you that nothing will be done without your enthusiastic approval.”

You nod, trusting him implicitly, and you stop moving as the song ends. You stare into his eyes, “take me home and make me yours, Ezra.” You demand, wanting him tonight and to give him all of you.

“I- yes.” Ezra breaths. “Whatever you wish, chérie.” He takes your hand and brings it up to kiss the back of it. “Let us make our way back to our abodes and we shall begin to become more intimately acquainted.”

You let him escort you through the crowd and out onto the now chilly streets of Paris, walking a little faster than you have known him to walk before as he guides you back to your building. “We have all night, mon amor.” You giggle playfully and squeeze his hand, “I’m yours for tomorrow too, not just tonight.”

“Forgive me, chérie.” Ezra flushes slightly. “It has been awhile for me and I must admit that I am eager to learn what makes you moan.”

You fluster, glad he’s eager to be with you. “I have wondered many nights what your touch would feel like. I’ve…explored my own body and know what feels good but I want to feel you, I want to hear you moan my name. I want you to feel pleasure.” You murmur, leaning against him as you turn onto your street.

“My little bird is a seductress.” Ezra groans, his cock twitching in his suit pants and he wants nothing more than to feel your heat around him. “Tell me, have you ever heard of fellatio or cunnilingus?” He asks, his voice dropping. “Using my mouth on your cunt to make you feel like you are flying?”

Just his words make your cunt bottom out and your stomach twists with anticipation. “I- I’ve read about it in my books. Novels. Books my parents didn’t know I had.” You confess to owning erotica and his voice has your cunt dripping and you walk a little faster, eager when you see your building in sight.

He chuckles, watching you pull away in your eagerness. “Then you won’t be scandalized when I tell you that I want to slide my tongue through your cunt until you are crying out my name and soaking my face.”

You gasp at his scandalous words but not because you are shocked. No, you are turned on. His words send a wave of arousal and need through you and you are practically sprinting to the front door of your building. When you fumble to open the door with your key, Ezra’s hand slides down your back to squeeze your ass and you drag him inside, pushing him against the door to press your lips to his, uncaring of your neighbors possibly witnessing your display.

Ezra groans and when he can, his tongue slides inside your mouth, drinking down your moan. His cock is swelling, rapidly hardening against your body as you press yourself against him. Wishing again he had both arms so he could pick you up and carry you to your apartment.

You kiss for several moments until a door slams from the floor above and you pull back, giggling as you start to climb the stairs to your apartment. Ezra struggles a little due to the situation in his trousers and you are fumbling with your lock when he comes up behind you, caressing your back. “Are you sure, little bird?” He asks, his voice rough and full of lust. It’s enough to make you shiver. You open the door and step inside, reaching for his hand. “I’m sure, Ezra. I want you. I love you.”

Nodding, he doesn’t insult you by questioning you again. He steps into your apartment and kicks the door shut. “Chérie, you tell me if there is anything you do not like.” He demands. “I wish for this to be nothing but joyous.” He will do his damndest to make it exactly what you want. “Now show me your bedroom.”

You take his hand after you set your purse down to guide him to your bedroom. He’s never been in here before and you fluster at the clothes that are on the floor from your rush to pick an outfit for going dancing with him. “Sorry about the mess.” You murmur and he chuckles, shrugging off his jacket to drape it over the chair in the corner.

“Do not fret little bird, I’ve seen far worse.” He assures you and you swallow harshly, the quiet of the room brings the seriousness of this night but you still want him. You reach up to unclip his tie, knowing he uses those since he can no longer tie his own, and you reach for the hem of his shirt after you toss the tie to the chair. “I want to see you.” You request, keeping your hands on the hem in case he doesn’t want you to remove it.

“My arm-“ he swallows nervously. “It is not pretty.” He fears that you might still turn him away. “They did the best they could, but it is still a missing arm.” He holds your hand for a moment and then lets go. “But if you wish to see me, there is nothing I would deny you.”

“My love.” You let go of his shirt to reach up and cup his cheeks, “I want to see all of you. Let me love all of you. I do not care about your imperfections. I have my own. I simply wish to see the man I love. All of him.”

Ezra nods, a lump in his throat, and you reach down to lift his shirt over his head. When it flutters to the floor, your eyes meet his until they shift to his body. The scars that scatter his skin from battle and the jagged edge of his missing limb. You aren’t repulsed, in fact, it makes you love him more for enduring such hardship. You lean down to press your lips to his shoulder, kissing along the scars that lead to his amputation.

He shudders, inhaling a ragged breath as you show him more acceptance than anyone ever has before. Standing before you in his trousers, he stands proud, enjoying the heated look in your eyes when they find his again. “I only wish I could assist you out of your dress, little bird.”

You shake your head, stepping back to reach behind you and pull the zipper of your dress down. “Do not worry about that, Ezra. You can take my panties off.” You wink and try to cover up your nerves as you let your dress fall to the floor after you kick your heels aside, revealing your underwear to his hungry gaze.

“Aphrodite herself.” Ezra groans, his eyes drinking in every inch of skin you have revealed to him. “I am a mere mortal in the presence of a goddess.” He declares, stepping closer and caressing your waist as he leans in to kiss you. You are still wearing a bra so he slides his hand around to try to unclip it while you kiss.

His tongue slides against yours and you can feel him fumbling so you reach behind you to help him unclip your bra, letting him drag it down your arms until it’s falling to the floor. You caress his chest, sliding your hands up until you are wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest against his. His hard cock digging into your hip and you want to see all of him. Your hands let go of his neck so you can reach between you to undo his pants, shoving them down and he kicks his shoes off so he’s only in his briefs and socks.

“Can I?” You ask, wanting him to be comfortable and when he nods, you hook your fingers in his underwear to drag them down. Your eyes wide when his thick length bounces free in front of your face. “Oh my God.” You gasp at him and reach up to wrap your fingers around him instinctively.

“Shit.” Ezra hisses, his length pulsing in your grip. “I- I have imagined your hand around my cock many times, little bird.” He confesses. “And yet I find that my imagination was sorely lacking in the realization of how good you would feel.” He doesn’t want you to be fearful so he reaches down and grabs your hand so he can help you back to your feet. “I wish to taste you.” He croaks. “Lay down on the bed so I can strip off your panties and lay my eyes on heaven.”

You don’t deny him. Shifting back to lay on your bed, head on the pillows, and you watch him as he kicks his briefs off his ankles and is left only in his socks as he kneels on the bed. Your heart pounds in your chest as he reaches out to hook his fingers in your panties on one side of your body and he carefully manages to shimmy them down until you are naked. Once he tosses them aside, his hand slides along your calf until he’s gripping your thigh and you grant him his silent wish, spreading your legs for him.

“Heaven.” Ezra proclaims, his eyes fixed on the thatch of neat curls that cover your sex. “I will be washed clean of all my sins in the pool between your thighs.” He traces lines over your skin with his fingers and he bends down to press a kiss to your knee. Shuffling down, he lowers himself down as he kisses along your thigh.

His words seem too poetic for such a naughty act but your chest heaves as his kisses get closer to your cunt. When his breath washes over the sensitive skin, you whimper and his deep chuckle echoes in your bedroom. “Ezra.” You gasp when he leans closer and his tongue dips between your folds, sampling your tangy arousal, and your eyes close as the pleasure tingles over your body.

Ezra groans, the sound vibrating directly into your core and immediately he’s entranced. Addicted to you and the way your thighs tighten around his head. Flicking his tongue over your clit, he wishes he could spread your legs wide and hold you open while he devours you like the feast you are.

Your head is thrown back when he sucks on your clit, the pleasure making your head spin. You’ve never experienced anything like this. His wet mouth on your cunt has your heart pounding in your chest. “Fuck, Ezra.” You curse, panting as he pushes his tongue inside of you. “So good. It feels so good.”

Moaning, he loves the way your walls pulse around his tongue, trying to draw him deeper. He shuffles down until he is flat on his belly, turned slightly so he can lay on his right side. It doesn’t hurt to lay against his amputation and it allows him to still stroke your thigh and stomach with his left hand. Wanting to make this amazing for you and get you ready to take him.

"Shit. You - you feel so good baby." You sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, and your heart pounds in your chest when his dark eyes meet yours. "Oh God. So good." You pant when he slides his hand down, gathering up your slick, and he pushes a finger inside of you.

He has practiced this. With the women he had paid, so he is not fumbling like he might have been. Though you would not know there was finesse to his touch either way. Your cunt squeezes his fingers and he groans before he pulls his head away. “I am going to prepare you for my cock, little bird, you might feel very full but it is so I do not hurt you.”

You are nervous but you know he would never hurt you. You watch him, eyelashes fluttering as he scissors his fingers inside of you. "Oh God, Ezra." You whimper when he resumes sucking your clit. It's more pleasure than you've ever known and you love the man giving it to you. "Please." You beg, not sure what you are begging for but you feel the tension building in your belly.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He coos, pulling off your clit before he dives back into your folds. His fingers pump and curl up inside you, pressing against the spongy spots until your hips jolt up and you cry out letting him know he’s found it. Determined to make you cum, he presses against that spot again and again while he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Oh shit.” You hiss, back arching as the tension coils tighter until you’re falling apart. Clamping down on his fingers, you moan his name and wonder how on earth you survived without his touch. Soaking his fingers, you grip the sheets and squeeze your eyes shut as the pleasure surges through you.

Liquid gold. That is what rushes over his fingers as you fall apart. Coating them and his wrist while your walls squeeze his fingers like a vice. Making him groan at how tightly your body will hold his cock as he works you through your high.

“Oh God.” You pant, slumping against the mattress as he withdraws his fingers and you open your eyes, shifting to look down at him, loving the smirk on his face after he sucks his digits into his mouth. “Kiss me.” You beg, wanting to feel him over you.

Crawling up your body is not as graceful as it might have been before the war. He cannot pause and kiss or nip here and there as often as he would like. When he finally settles between your thighs, his cock against your mound, he smiles softly at you. “You wish for a kiss, little bird? I will grant you all the wishes you desire. Just call me your genie.”

You chuckle at his smooth words, your hands caressing every inch of his body that you can touch. “I love you.” You murmur before he leans in to kiss you. You feel his smile against your lips and you love how happy you feel in this moment. His weight is braced on his forearm and you reach between you to grip his cock, wanting to stroke him but you don’t really know what you’re doing.

He grunts, closing his eyes slightly. “Loosen your grip and slide your hand up and down.” He breathes out raggedly. “Feel how the skin moves over the hardness underneath?”

You follow his order, amazed at how he feels like velvet despite the hardness beneath. You slide your hand up and down, your thumb swiping over the leaking head unknowingly and he groans in response. “You’re big.” You tell him despite not having anything to compare him to. He’s big in your grip and that’s all you can go by.

“It will fit, most assuredly.” He groans. “The clutch of your cunt will be like the hottest glove I have ever worn.” He rocks his hips into your grip and twitches in your hand. “Little bird, I fear I am much too enthusiastic for you to continue. Otherwise I might cause myself great embarrassment by finishing before we can truly begin.”

You loosen your grip and he sighs in relief, making you smile. You’re pleased he’s just as affected by you as you are of him. “Put me in.” Ezra orders and you swallow harshly, suddenly nervous as you guide him towards your cunt. When he’s notched at your entrance, he starts to slowly push inside of you and your hands grip his back, eyes closed as you brace yourself for the pain you’ve heard about.

Ezra takes his time, breaking you forward an inch at a time. His jaw is clenched and his arm trembling from the effort to take it slow. When you close your eyes, brows knitted together, he drops down to his elbow and kisses you. “Relax, little bird.” He promises, feeling your walls tighten in anticipation.

You slide your hands up to cup his cheeks, keeping his lips against yours, and you whimper when he pushes deeper, trying to relax when he tells you to. “God.” You pant, half wishing this was over and half wishing this would last forever.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He promises, pushing his hips slightly deeper into the crevice of your thighs and smoothly through your innocence to completely fill you.

You gasp in pain but he soothes it away by leaning in to kiss you, distracting you, and you kiss for several moments, tongues tangled while your body adjusts to the intrusion. “Please, Ezra.” You whimper when his cock twitches inside of you. You want him to move, the pain now transforming into the beginnings of pleasure and your heart pounds in your chest at having the man you love take your innocence.

“We have all the time in the world, my love.” He assures you, not wanting you to feel like you have to rush towards bliss. His kisses keep you occupied for another moment and when he feels your inner muscles start to quiver, that he knows he can move without any resistance. “You feel perfect, the feeling cannot be described.” He is nearly speechless as he starts to pull his hips back slowly, keeping the movement measured when he slowly sinks back into you.

Your chest feels tight with emotion as he rocks into you, making you lift your legs higher. His groan vibrates into your chin after he presses a soft kiss there, and you slide your hands along his back. "It feels so good. Never- never imagined it would feel like this."

“Love making is supposed to feel good, like you never want it to end.” His words roll out, groaning slightly at how perfect you are. “I want you to feel nothing but pleasure with me.”

You chuckle softly, "I never want this to end." You confess, kissing along his neck as he moves inside of you with measured thrusts and when you lift your leg higher onto his hips, you whimper at the new sensation. "No one else I want to feel like this. Only you. I love you." You murmur, loving how you feel like the only people in the world.

“I adore you.” Ezra groans, closing his eyes as he rocks in and out of you. “My perfect little bird. So beautiful and trusting, so giving.” He kisses along your shoulder and groans when you squeeze him tight.

His honeyed words wash over you, making you feel like it's a struggle to breathe, but you pant out, "all yours." You feel that tension coiling in your stomach but it's slow, not as intense, just building with each rock of his hips. "Oh God, Ezra. I need-" You don't know what you need, just that it feels good and you want more.

“I wish I could do it, my love.” Ezra huffs, wanting to be the one to bring you all your pleasure tonight. “But reach down and rub your little button. The one I sucked on so satisfyingly.”

You reach down between you, your fingers finding your clit, and you whimper as you get the pleasure your body craved. His cock moves inside of you, hitting the right spot to make you whimper, and when he shifts his hips again, your head tilts back into the pillow as you cry out his name.

“Magnificent.” Ezra grunts, clenching his teeth together as your walls clamp down on his cock and you soak him in your pleasure. “Good girl. Good girl.”

Your eyes are closed and Ezra is leaning down to kiss along your neck, making you whimper, and you want Ezra to cum. “Baby. Oh baby. I want you to - please. Inside. I don’t care. I want to feel all of you.”

He shudders, imagining that feeling of filling you up and even though he knows it’s risky, he does. His pace picks up and he rocks into you with less measured thrusts. Half a dozen more times before he is moaning your name, pushing deep as his cock throbs and he paints your walls with his seed.

You close your eyes, loving how it feels to be totally consumed by him like this, and you whimper when he works himself through his orgasm, his seed pushed out of you, and you tangle your fingers in his hair to bring his face to yours, pressing your lips against his.

Ezra sighs against your lips. Enjoying the feeling of his high and he shifts so he can move his weight off his left arm, lowering himself onto you so it is not too uncomfortable for you. “I love you.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Love you too, baby.” You smile against his mouth, your hands shifting to caress his back. You love all of him, even the parts he’s missing. You adore him and you know you want to be his. You shift so he can lay on his side and you immediately move to curl around him, his cock sliding out of you at the move, and you don’t care about his seed dripping out of you as you breathe him in.

“I must confess that words are failing me, little bird.” His arm wraps around you, caressing your back as he tries to catch his breath. It had been such a long time since he had felt this way. Like he is whole. Not because of a missing limb, but because of your love.

“No words. Just us.” You murmur, closing your eyes as the events of the night catch up on you. He kisses your hair and you know you made the right choice coming to Paris. “Sleep, little bird.” Ezra urges, knowing you are exhausted. You hum, breathing him in and you fall asleep surrounded by him.

****

* knock knock *

The front door is shaking with the knocks, several in a row, and you are still asleep. “Coming!” Ezra calls out, struggling to pull his trousers on as he walks over to open the door before it can wake you up. “I think the door just about survived your incessant attack. How can I help you, sir?” Ezra asks, his shirt barely pulled over his head and untucked and he feels the other man’s anger as his eyes assess Ezra. He announces that he’s looking for you. “She’s thankfully still asleep right now, no thanks to your monstrous knocking. May I inquire as to whom is seeking an audience with her?” Ezra asks.

“Tell her it’s Jacob. Her fiancé.”

Ezra’s stomach drops, his mouth parts but for a moment no words come out. “I believe you might be mistaken.” He manages after a moment of disbelief. “The lady is not engaged, she is unattached and has been for the duration of her time in Paris.” This is some kind of mistake. It has to be. You would not lie to him and keep a fiancé a secret.

“You are the one who is mistaken. She accepted my proposal. Her parents and my parents are close friends. She escaped to Paris and we thought she’d come back but it’s been a month and she’s - it looks like she has kept herself busy.” Jacob says in disgust as he looks at Ezra.

You come out of your bedroom, robe hastily tied around your waist and your eyes widen when you see Jacob standing at your door. “Jacob? What are you doing here?”

“You are acquainted with this man?” The shock on your face is answer enough and Ezra feels like he has been played for a fool. He hears Jacob scoff and he can’t even remember to excuse himself before he is pushing past you to gather the remainder of his clothes so he can leave. You are engaged. What was this? Some kind of power trip for you? Making the poor fool fall in love with you before you go back to your life in America? Ezra growls, pissed that he doesn’t have two hands as he shoves his feet into his shoes without socks and grabs his tie and jacket.

“Ezra. Wait. Let me explain. Please.” You beg, trying to reach for him but he shrugs your hand away, spinning to push past Jacob and he storms down the hall. “Ezra. Please!” You beg, pushing past Jacob to follow him.

“What do you want?” Ezra growls as he faces you.

Your lower lip trembles at the disgust you see in his eyes. “Please let me explain. It’s complicated.”

“It is not complicated.” He hisses. “You led me to believe that you were unencumbered. When you have a doting fiancé waiting at home for you to warm his bed.” He is so hurt that he feels like he is going to lash out at you. “Go back to your fiancé.” He spits. “You can tell him that you slept with me out of pity.” Turning back around he tosses his jacket over his shoulder and quickly opens the door to his apartment, slamming it shut behind him.

Your eyes sting with tears and you turn to make your way back onto your apartment where Jacob is still waiting for you. “Looks like you’ve settled into Parisian life.” Jacob scoffs and you shut the door behind you.

“I- I can’t go home with you. I love it here. It’s my home now. I belong here. Please Jacob. Don’t - don’t make me go home.” You plead and he shakes his head.

“Your parents wanted me to bring you back. You know they are anxious for us to be married. When you left, they were frantic until they got your letter. They have been looking for you for weeks. They sent me here to bring you home so we can get married.” He tells you and you shake your head.

You walk over to him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You know I love you, but as my friend. Our fathers…they always wanted us to marry but - you didn’t even propose. It was - it was arranged and I didn’t want that. I want love. Don’t you want love?” You ask him.

Jacob swallows harshly, reaching for your hand to lower it from his face. “I have love. Her name…Cheryl. She’s perfect and I- I want to marry her.” He admits for the first time out loud.

You grin, squeezing his hand, “then marry her. You and I are good friends but that’s it. I love you but I’m not in love with you.” You tell him and he nods, “you’re in love with him.”

He jerks his chin to the door and it’s not a question, its a statement. You nod and Jacob sighs, “your parents are gonna be pissed at me for not bringing you home.”

You chuckle, “when have we ever cared about what they think? I ran away because they have controlled me for too long. My father is still engrossed in war time but we are at peace now and I want to live, to love. Tell them I’m sorry, but I’m happy here.” You tell Jacob who nods,

“I’ll tell them.” He leans down to kiss your cheek, “be happy.” He murmurs and you nod when he pulls back to look at you.

“You too.”

He lets go of your hand and walks over to your front door, knowing he’s going to have grief when he gets home but it will be worth it if he can marry Cheryl. You watch him close the door and decide to get dressed and find Ezra.

In his apartment, the few tears he had shed have been replaced by stifling anger. Scowling and ripping through his closet, the bag on the bed lays open to be stuffed with clothes. He cannot live here any longer. The furnished apartment had been a very comfortable place to be but he will be reminded by your betrayal. Curses hissed out from under his breath accompanying his hurried packing, hoping that he gets done and leaves before the sounds of love making come through the walls.

You open Ezra’s apartment door that he neglected to lock in his rush, and you find him packing a bag. “You’re leaving?” You choke and he doesn’t even look at you.

“Aren’t you? Heading back to your pre-planned life in America? What was I? Just a joke? Seduce the one armed man so I can titter about him when I have luncheons in Boston?” Ezra hisses and you shake your head.

“My love-”

“Do not call me that.” He growls and you swallow, “Jacob and I were arranged to be married. Our families have been close friends for our entire lives. Our fathers served together in the Great War and they wanted us to be a family. Jacob never proposed properly. I never received a ring. It was on paper. That’s why I ran away. I didn’t want to marry him. I love him as a friend and nothing more. I swear to you, I wasn’t engaged to him in my heart, only in the eyes of my parents. I love you. I’m sorry I lied. I didn’t - I thought that it would brush over and Jacob would get married and I’d be free. I should’ve told you. I should’ve disclosed why I was here.”

He doesn’t believe you, shaking his head, he scoffs. “Yet there was a man on your doorstep, disgusted to see me in his place.” He reminds you. “I do not believe you little bird, I regret that you believe me to be so gullible. You’re just like her.” He hisses. “Pitying me and believing my lost arm has rendered me addle-brained as well.”

You shake your head, "just like who? Baby, I love you. Please don't do this. I love you and I - I'm so sorry I lied. I didn't - he isn't - we aren't engaged. Not in the traditional sense." You urge him to believe you.

“She was my fiancé.” He reveals, his frantic packing paused and he looks up at you with anger and sadness mixed together. “She told me in letters that she didn’t care that I had lost my arm. She loved me. She wanted me. Until I went home. She had been sleeping with my best friend. Told me that she hadn’t thought of us engaged once I had been wounded.”

“Oh God, Ezra. I’m so sorry.” You choke, fingers twitching with the need to comfort him. “Baby. I- oh God. I know you must hate me now and I understand. I get it. I- I’ll go. I’ll go. I’m sorry. Just - just know that I love you. I’m so in love with you and I’ve never felt this way before. I know you think I’m a whore and just like your ex fiancé. I’ll go.” You choke, tears now streaming down your cheeks because you know it’s over. He can’t forgive you.

Ezra closes his eyes, his shoulders slumping and he sighs. “Little bird….” He chokes out, gripping the shirt he had been packing in a tight fist. “You- swear to me that you are telling me the truth.” He demands. “That you never wanted to marry this man and he felt the same towards you.”

“I never wanted to marry him. He’s my friend. Nothing more. I swear to you.” You sob, “he - he’s in love with a woman called Cheryl. He - we have been friends our entire lives. He’s protective and I - he didn’t know that I was in love with you but when I told him, he agreed to leave me here.”

Ezra swallows, hating to see the tears in your eyes. He drops the shirt and moves towards you hesitantly. “I am sorry.” He whispers, ashamed that he had made you cry. You are telling the truth, you love him and you never wanted to marry that other man. “Are you staying?”

You nod, “if you’ll have me. If not…I guess I’m heading home.” You murmur, glancing back at the door after you wipe your eyes. Still dressed in your robe, you feel vulnerable.

He takes another step towards you and cups your cheek, guiding your eyes back to him. “If you stay, I wish for you to be my wife.” He murmurs softly. “I want to be your husband. Not to own you or to make you unhappy. But to build a life with you here.”

Your eyes widen as his response, and you are surprised he wants to marry you. If he’d asked last night, you would’ve said yes without hesitation. “You want to marry me?” You ask softly and he nods. You lean forward to press your forehead against his cheek, “I love you. It would - I’d marry you right this second if I could.”

“I do not think we could find someone to marry us at this hour.” Ezra hums, lowering his hand so he can wrap his arm around you. “There is also the small matter of procuring you a ring. I am a man who believes in tradition, and will be wearing my own with pride.”

You let him pull you into his chest and you swallow harshly, “you want -” You’re speechless as you reach up to cup his cheeks. “I love you. I want to marry you as soon as possible. I want to be yours in every way.” You murmur, pressing your lips against his.

“You will have me, little bird.” Ezra promises, smiling at you softly. “Every bit of me. I love you. I want you to be mine and I will be yours. Forever.”

You nudge your nose against his, “forever. Maybe we can get a chateau in the country and I can have your babies?” You suggest playfully, sliding your hand down his chest to feel his heart pounding beneath your touch.

“You wish to live the life of a French country woman?” Ezra grins, “chérie, I will make sure you have your chateau and your babies. We might have even started our little family tonight.”

You sigh in bliss, “I hope so. I love you, Ezra. I am so glad I met you. You’ve changed my life and I - I hope we spend the rest of our days together.” You murmur, knowing you would never regret coming to Paris to escape your family. You are going to create your own family with Ezra.

****

“Mon cher, come in. Lunch is ready!” You call out to the garden where your son is playing. Your daughter on your hip as you place the bread on the table. “Ezra! Lunch is ready!” You call out to your husband who has been painting in the garden.

Looking up from his painting, Ezra smiles. Setting the brush in a cup of turpentine, he calls out to André. “Come, we must eat.” He tells him as he walks over to kiss you and take his darling little girl out of your arms. “Thank you, chérie.” He murmurs, not just talking about the lunch. He’s talking about the life he has with you, something he had never hoped to have after the war and now he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

#pedro pascal #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect imagine #ezra prospect fanfiction #Post WWII AU

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 9 months

Text

Promise [a dragon!Ezra x f!reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Prospect

Pairing: Dragon!Ezra x f!reader (monsterfucker au)

Tags: Human/Monster Romance, Monsterfucking, initial dubcon (sort of a damned if you do damned if you don't deal), dragon fucks reader, Breeding, Oviposition, Stomach Bulge, PIV Sex, Loss of Virginity, Painful Sex, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, dragon!ezra is really good with his tongue, Squirting, All's well that ends well though, seriously I don't know how to warn for this fic guys, dragon biology is weird, DON'T LOOK AT ME! Light Bondage, drugging, pet names, I know I'm forgetting something help.

Summary: You are taken from you village by a dragon, and he has an obscene proposition for you.

Words: 7,446

You should have known to take cover when the birds stopped singing. You should have known when the sun was blocked out by a looming shadow gliding above you. You should have run for the trees, but you didn’t.

You barely hear the whoosh! before you're grabbed, a sharp claw pierces your shoulder and you cry out in pain, and then your legs leave the ground and you find yourself soaring above the ground, your basket dropped and left behind for someone to find, or not. You cry out from pain and fear, and you try to struggle, but the dragon is holding you securely with its feet, and the claw is still poking into your bleeding flesh. There is nothing that you can do.

Beating his wings in mid-air, he bends down, his large head right in front of you, and then he pushes his snout between your legs, and draws a deep breath. You shriek with fear and indignity, but he has already flicked out his long, forked tongue to taste your smell, evidently pleased, and is now flying off.

Knowing where it is he is taking you, your dread still grows when you see the dark castle perched upon the mountain. Seen in the distance on clear days, it has loomed over your village for centuries, out of reach and impossible to access by foot. That's the reason the dragon has survived for so long: no one can touch him. He swoops down a couple of times a year to steal a young woman who is never seen again. You grew up with the stories, saw him in the distance once as a young child, know three girls who were lost to the voracious monster. As you grew older, you heard the elders whisper of the dragon's appetites: he did not eat the girls, but ravaged them, then ate them. The thought was terrifying, not only because you were still unfamiliar with the art of physical love. You knew the mechanics of it, of course, you were a farm girl, after all, but had nothing but the sight of rutting animals to go after. The idea of a man doing the same to you seemed eerie, and a dragon... unfathomable.

Eyes tearing up from fear and wind alike, you start to shake as the dragon rises higher. The wound on your shoulder stings as he pulls you closer to his abdomen, as if to shield you from the cold. His scales are warm and soft, but you barely notice that. The castle comes ever closer, and he starts his descend over the courtyard. He releases you on the old cobbles but as you try to crawl away, he grabs you again, this time with his front paws, whisking you up against him with one arm and carrying you inside.

You have never been in a castle before, but don't pay any attention to the old, dusty decreptitude around you. When the dragon releases you in front of a fireplace which seems to be the size of your entire house, your first thought is to defend yourself against what is coming. You see a fire poker by the long-abandoned fireplace, and reach for it as you scramble to your feet. Brandishing it, you turn around to face the fiend that has stolen you away.

He is large, larger than a workhorse. Scales the colour of dirty sand and olives cover his back, neck, and the outsides of his legs and tail. His belly is a golden tan. His eyes are amber pools of intense staring at you, and above his right eye is a white scar, as if someone once pulled away several scales from his skin, and they never grew back the right colour.

He smells like red hot embers on a cold winter's night and when he hisses at the poker you're brandishing, you catch a whiff of blood and brimstone, but also something sweeter, flower-like. You hold the poker with two hands, ignore the twinge in your shoulder, and prepare yourself to fight to the death which, you are certain, will come very swiftly. Apart from fighting with your brothers when you were a little girl, you have never raised your fist at anyone.

The dragon regards you, his long neck muscles moving as he tilts his head, almost curiously. He starts as if about to lunge at you, and you raise the poker.

"Don't come any closer!"

He sits back, baring his fangs in a smirk.

"You cannot harm me with that poker."

His voice is smooth and smoky, and the fact that he speaks makes you halt. You lower your arms and the poker clatters to the stone floor.

"Please don't eat me," you whisper, a shiver running through you.

He scoffs. "You humans are barely tasty in a famine."

"What do you want from me?"

"I have a proposition for you. Should you not accept it, you can go, but be warned that nobody has made it down from the mountain alive." He seems indifferent with this fact.

"And if I accept?"

An almost sympathetical blink. "I would have to hurt you, but I would also reward you highly. If you survive."

You're afraid to ask, so you wait for the dragon to tell you what it is he needs from you. Your heart is drumming a hard tattoo against your ribs, and your mouth is dry, but you force yourself to meet his amber gaze.

"I need you to breed for me."

Your stomach drops and twists.

"What?" you gulp. Those molten gold eyes bore into you.

"I need you to be my broodmare. Dragons are rare for a reason, procreation is challenging enough for us as it is," he explains, as if you were in any state to understand what he was saying. "When no female dragons are available, we can impregnate human females, and have offspring through them."

"I would... carry b-baby dragons?" you stutter, the thought disturbing. The dragon gestures his head in a clear No.

"You would be an incubator for my eggs."

You must look confused, because he now sits down, and nods for you to do so as well. How your legs haven't buckled under you already, you have no idea. You sit down on the stone floor and pull your knees up in front of your chest, as if that could shield you from the horrendous affair you are being offered.

"When my kind goes for a long time, centuries, without meeting a mate, we change," he explains, voice serpentine with its sharp esses. "Males, such as myself, become capable of producing eggs. But the eggs still need a womb to carry them."

His eyes narrow a little. "You are untouched by man, are you not?"

The fortright question startles you so much that you just blurt out: "Yes."

"Yes," he hisses, now both sounding and looking very pleased. "I could smell your virginity."

"Is that what you did when you took me?" you ask quietly. "Checked to see if I'm a virgin? You can smell that?"

The dragon moves his shoulders as if he were shrugging. It looks eerily human.

"Only a maiden can bear dragon eggs."

You look down at your hands on top of your knees. They're dirty, the nails worn down by labour. You have worked from a very young age. Work is all you will know.

Is this your chance for something more?

"How would you reward me if I do this?" you ask, hardly believing yourself.

"I have throughout my long life procured considerable wealth consisting of gold and previous stones. You can have as much as you can carry, and more. I will personally return you to your village, or to any place you wish."

For someone such as yourself, who comes from nothing and will never amount to anything except someone's wife and the mother of a tribe of children, you could do worse. It's not that you're not scared, no, you're absolutely terrified.

But there's a tiny part of you that's intrigued. Maybe it's the part of you that denied the neighbour's boy a kiss, that spent a little too long hiding in the canopy of a tree when mother called for you to come and help with one chore or another, that takes the long road home from town just so that you can pass by the house of the village witch, the only woman you know who lives a life different from everybody else.

You are terrified, yes, but you agree. If this kills you, at least you will be able to say that you did something out of the ordinary.

"Yes," you say, looking into the dragon's eyes. "I'll do it."

He blinks slowly as he stands up and towers above you. His scales seem to glow as he bares his teeth in a way you cannot interpret.

"Come with me."

You stand up and walk before him in the direction he indicates, through a dark corridor to a staircase. The dragon nods for you to descend the stairs, and you do, until your reach a large, wooden door with rusty iron bolts. The dragon pulls the door open, and you step in.

If the rest of the castle is dark and decrepit, this chamber is luminous with polished gold candelabra, red velvet drapes, thick carpets that swallow your feet as you tread on them. The space is bigger than the biggest of homes back in the village, and sectioned into different areas. In one corner, there is a large, circular depression filled with luscious pillows and beautiful animal hides, and you realize that it must be the pit where the dragon rests. In another corner is a giant bed with a full canopy, all red velvet and golden tassels. You feel dizzy looking at all this wealth, but it's nothing compared to how you feel when you look over to the next section of the room.

There is a large oak table with chains and shackles in all four corners, chains hanging from the roof, a pillory, and a strange kind of chair with stirrups. When you realize what it could be used for, your face drains of colour and you have to sit down in the lush softness of the carpet.

The dragon, unperturbed, seems to expect this reaction. He slithers around the room, more agile than you'd expect considering his size, and stops to look at you.

"The bed is for you. I sleep over there." He nods towards the bolstered pit. "Be aware that I sleep lightly. Should you attempt to flee, I will awaken."

"I won't."

"That is wise. You will, however, want to."

It is not a threat, but a statement of fact. You slowly rise, your legs barely carrying you, and try to put on a brave face.

"Where do you want me?"

The dragon's tongue darts out to lick its lips. "You are eager."

"I want it over and done with."

He snorts out a hissing sound, almost like a chuckle. "It won't be done quickly. It is a process."

You frown, waiting for an explanation. He slowly comes up to you, fixing you with his gaze. Hypnotized, you stand still, even as he stands right in front of you. You don't move a muscle when he dips his head to the apex of your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste your smell. You don't breathe a word when he whisks you up in one clawed paw and takes you to the table. When he tells you to take your dress off, you obey without blinking. You're pliable when he bends you over the table, one huge clawed hand spread out over your upper back.

You only snap out of your passive state when he enters you, his member bursting you open with pain and humiliation. Your fingers claw at the table as you cry out, but you don't try to get away. You have decided to endure, and endure you will, even when the reptilian cock invades your inexperienced body, time and again, until the dragon snarls and you feel a wet heat spread within you.

The dragon takes care of your shoulder wound, treating it with herbs and binding it with cloth. He brings you food. You don't know from where, or how, but he brings you fresh fruit and berries, and the juiciest parts of cooked meat. He brings you cold water to drink, and when you have eaten and drunk, he takes you again. This repeats over what you think are the next few days. You eat, drink, sleep, and the dragon empties his balls in you to prepare you for breeding. He does not have to force you, but his size and lack of elegance does not make it particularly enjoyable for you.

You sleep in the large bed, larger than any bed you have ever seen, softer than the thickest sheep wool, and when you wake up, the dragon is there again, sniffing between your legs. You're naked on your belly, legs open, and you twitch when the long tongue flicks at your slimy folds. A shiver runs through you, but not of fear: this is something new, something unexpected. You have earlier felt a flicker of pleasure at the way the creature's jagged cock dragged through your tight hole, but you have been unable to verbalize it for him.

"Nearly done," the dragon proclaims, his breath hot on your skin. The rich mattress dips behind you when he climbs onto the bed.

"Wait," you gasp, looking back. He stops still and snorts in annoyance.

"Are you dishonouring our agreement?"

"No," you lick your lips nervously, "I just... can you..."

Embarrassment burns on your cheeks as you try to find words that you have never spoken, never thought you would speak to a creature such as the one behind your naked form.

"I think it would be more... en... enjoyable f-for me... if you... do that again?"

The dragon tilts its head as it regards you, eyes narrowing. You can't return his gaze, so you turn your face to the front again.

"With your... tongue," you whisper. "Down there."

He doesn't move, and you regret saying anything.

"Forget about it," you quickly shake your head. "It was nothing. Just forget it."

The mattress moves as the dragon's weight is redistributed, and then you feel his steaming breath against you anew.

"If it will make mating easier for you, I am obliged to make the attempt," he murmurs, before poking his snout against your sex. His tongue lashes out, wet and warm and quick, against your soiled centre, and you feel a titillation grow inside you. When he does it again, pushing his tongue against you and inside you, your breathing grows heavy. His tongue slides more easily than his cock, broad though it is, and its warmth feels comforting and soothing on your stinging walls. When he licks you again, he hits the little nub that you've barely dared to touch yourself, and a jolt of pleasure cuts through you.

"Oh!" Your gasp is filled with a surprised delight, and when you feel his tongue on you again, you push back shamelessly. Your fingers claw at the silk sheets, dirty nails looking so out of place on the expensive fabric, you stare at them in wonder as each lick provides a new sensation for you, a new limit crossed. Your eyes close as you bite down on your lower lip, whining quietly at how good you feel, how strange and adventurous. When the dragon stops, you protest loudly.

"No, please, don't stop, it feels so good!"

He grunts impatiently, but heeds your wish for more, his clawed hands grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs wider for better access to your core. You reward him with a loud moan when his tongue slides inside you again, wiggling and probing, before pulling out to swirl over that nub where the sensations are gathering. The intensity rises for each lick and you have no idea what will happen if he doesn't stop, you only know that you don't want him to stop, he must go on, you must find out.

"Please," you moan into the bedding, "please, more, don't stop, give me more!"

His agile tongue speeds up, saliva and spend mixing with your own juices as your muscles twitch. Your body starts to act in conflict with your brain, pushing and pulling, wanting to escape the barrel of explosives that seems to have caught fire deep inside you while also waiting, wanting for it to tear you apart. When the pleasure comes to a combustion inside you, your dripping cunt throbbing around nothing, you let out a wail that echoes through the chamber.

The dragon stops, sniffing with appreciation at your wetness before he mounts you, his long member piercing you promptly. He ruts into you, a groan emanating from deep within his chest, and you marvel at how different he feels, how good he feels when your cunt is still pulsating from your release. When he spills inside of you, he does so to your cries of approval. His growl lets you know that this was a new experience for him as well, and he enjoyed it.

Your cunt is full of his spend, and he sniffs at you after pulling out.

"Not long now, my breeder," he lets you know, and he sounds satisfied. You hum, gloriously exhausted and wondrous after your climax.

If this is how every time is going to feel like, you don't want it to end.

The dragon leaves you to sleep, and returns with provisions.

"You need your strength," he tells you cryptically, and you choose not to dwell on the meaning of that. When you've eaten, he takes you again, but only after slaking your need for another high.

The chamber lacks windows, so you have no idea what time it is, or how long you have been in the castle. You have rested more in the last day - days? - than you have in your entire life. All you do is sleep in the luxurious bed, eat fresh fruit and rich meat, and spread your legs for the dragon which, now that he has learned how to please you, is nothing but heavenly.

You awaken to a sweet ache between your legs, the thick cream that the creature has spilled inside of you creating a full and sticky sensation. And warm. You feel warmer than you ever have in your life, yet you are not sweating. It's like your insides are becoming to the dragon's eggs what the large canopy bed is to you: a snug, safe place to rest. When you sit up, your cunt oozes with the juice, much in the same way as your monthly bleeding, yet you are not uncomfortable.

The dragon is nowhere to be seen, and you suppose he is procuring provisions, wherever he goes to do so. Slowly, you inch out of the bed, looking around for your dress but not finding it. Instead, your take a sheet and drape it around yourself before slowly making your way around the room, exploring. The table, where he first took you. The pillory, the chair with the stirrups. That one makes you blush, even after what you have experienced so far. If you'd sit in it, and put your feet in the stirrups, anyone standing before you would see right up your -

The heavy door opens, and the dragon slithers in. He stops when he sees you out of bed, his nostrils flaring. You think you detect a whiff of smoke. The scar over his eye seems to shine.

"I was just looking," you tell him hurriedly. "I'm... curious."

"That much is evident," the dragon agrees as he closes the door. He then watches you as you walk over to the table, your hand reaching out to gingerly touch the shackles. You look at him, asking with no words. His amber gaze does not waver.

"Restraining is necessary in the insertion phase."

"Why?"

"Because it hurts."

A chill runs down your spine, and you ask no more. Instead, you run your fingers over the coarse iron of one cuff.

"It is getting to be the time," the dragon adds, and you nod.

"I suppose."

"Is there anything you need? Food? Water?"

You look up, see sympathy flash by in his eyes.

"What is your name?"

He frowns, like he doesn't understand the question, so you repeat it.

"You must have a name?"

"It's... Ezra. My name is Ezra."

"Ezra," you repeat quietly. The two syllables are soft and sharp at the same time. The name fits its bearer.

He emits a low sound, almost like a purr. You raise your brows at him, and he stops.

"I have not heard my name spoken in a very long time," he admits, lowering his head, as if embarrassed. You smile at him then, taken by the sudden show of vulnerability.

"Ezra," you repeat, and slowly make your way across the room to him. Up close, you smell blood on him, and see red splattered over his shiny scales. He must have eaten. You prefer not to think how, or what.

Tentatively, you raise one hand, placing it on his neck. It's warm and surprisingly smooth, with tough muscles moving under the skin. They twitch when you move your hand up his neck. Blinking, he softly meets your gaze before his eyes fall half shut as you caress his head and trail your fingers over the ridges that crowns his head.

Ezra's tongue darts out as he regards you, his pupils dilated. Standing in front of him, the air feels the way it does right before a thunderstorm: thick with crackling energy, buzzing, uneasy to breathe.

Without warning, he picks you up and takes you to the table, where he lays you down and peels you out of the sheet. He then parts your legs, and nudges his head between your thighs, tongue already flicking at your bud, like he's eager to please you. Your low hum of approval quickly rises into a moan when the dragon - Ezra - pushes his tongue inside you, reaching deeper than you ever thought possible. You can feel him touch some internal barrier deep in your belly, and you start to squirm as the pleasure borders on pain. Ezra's long, clawed fingers close around your thighs to keep you in place, and he pushes his snout against you. The ridges on the bridge of his nose and muzzle rub against you in the most delectable way, and you push back in search of the right spot, the one spot that will make you soar. Finding it, you shamelessly reach for his head, taking a firm hold and keeping him in place as you start to grind against him while he fucks your cunt with his tongue. Your climax arrives quickly, strongly, your wail echoing in the chamber. Ezra releases your legs and while you’re still trembling, your head thrown back and your eyes closed, he shackles you to the table. You barely even feel the first cold snap of metal around your wrist, but when both your hands are cuffed, you open your eyes to see him close a cuff around your ankle.

“Is this necessary?” you ask weakly, your heart missing a beat. Ezra’s nostrils flare as he looks down at you.

“You will hurt,” he tells you flatly. “Many before you have tried to escape.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Ezra climbs up on the table, and you see his cock for the first time. You can barely hold back a gasp.

It’s long, much longer than on any farm animal you’ve seen. The tip is almost pointy, and the underside of the entire length is ridged, much like his head is. No wonder it has been difficult to take.

But what really makes you stare is how the tip seems almost dilated, like the opening of an animal ready to give birth. It is only now that you seem to realize that not only will Ezra have to pass over the eggs to you: you will have to accept them into you, and that is certain to not be comfortable.

“Are you ready?” he asks tightly, like he is unsure of his own dedication to the endeavour. You whisper your yes, and he pushes into you.

“It will be a distressing experience for both of us,” he tells you in a low grunt, “and I wish I could promise you that it will be over shortly, but I would be lying. When my kind mate, we stay together for hours.”

You whimper, the chains holding you in place clanking a little as you move your feet. More accustomed to his size by now, you expect him to start fucking you like he has up until now but instead, he pushes further into you, reaching that limit inside you which you feel is the absolute boundary of what you can take.

He pushes pash, the tip entering your womb, and you wail, your thighs trying to draw together, shut him out, prevent him from going any deeper. But your legs are bound, and all you have is Ezra’s large hand on your thigh, stroking slowly as if to comfort you.

“Ezra,” you whimper, “it’s too much.”

“I know, my pet,” he rumbles low, “it hurts me too.”

Something pushes against your cunt, already full of him, and you sob loudly when Ezra jerks his hips, and you feel the unmistakable round form of an egg pass through his cock, lodged inside you. It’s splitting you open, and your press your eyes shut hard in a futile attempt at keeping the tears away.

The egg, roughly the size of that of a chicken, moves slowly, so slowly on its way to your womb. Ezra growls, the smell of sulfur grows stronger, and he presses your thighs down to keep your still when you squirm.

“Please, Ezra,” you plead with him, “make me feel good. Just a little, with your tongue.”

“I am afraid I cannot do that,” he grunts with remorse, “we both need to stay as still as possible for the eggs to safely make it into your womb.”

He lowers his head to your chest, licking around your nipples.

“But I can do something else for you,” he tells you before baring his teeth, and sinking his fangs into your soft breast. You shriek at the pain, panic budding in you as you kick against the restraints.

“You will feel better in a moment, my pet,” he soothes you with little licks around the wound. “My bite is venomous, and you will soon feel less pain.”

“You p-poisoned me?” you gasp, voice weakening already as the venom spreads in your blood.

“I only gave you a small dose to make you relax,” he promises, and then he gets a little blurry. Your eyelids feel heavy, so you let them fall shut as you surrender with a helpless moan, finding some comfort in the fact that the torment on Ezra’s face is just as real as your slowly dulling pain.

When the first egg finally settles into your womb, you’re still flushed and glistening with sweat, despite the anaesthetic. Ezra pulls halfway out, the ridges of his cock scraping at your slick walls, making you keen in sudden pleasure. He ruts into you a couple of times before lodging himself back at your core, and staying there.

You lose track of time and eggs. For each one that Ezra deposits in you, he soothes your stretched cunt with slow drags of his cock, teasing you just enough to keep going. He swirls his tongue around your nipples to alleviate your distress. You feel it as through water: everything is distant and muffled.

He's breathing heavily by the time he passes the last egg into your womb. His breath is hot against your skin, and when he slides out of you, he does so with a rumbled groan. He then sniffs at your swollen opening, tongue flitting at you, making you flinch and moan.

“Ezra…”

“It is done, my good breeder,” he murmurs, and you hear from his dazed words how exhausted he is. You lift your head. The world spins, but you can still see the bulge of your stomach. Blinking, you try to understand what it is you see. It is your stomach, but… it’s huge. You feel heavy, full, mangled. You want to ask Ezra how many eggs there are in you, but your tongue is thick in your mouth. When he releases you from the shackles, you remain where you are, spread-eagled, too dazed to move. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, where he gently lays you down and covers your body with silk sheets and animal hides before you start feeling chilled. He then retires to his own pit, and you dimly hear him snarl as he collapses into the bedding. Only then do you succumb to darkness and a dreamless, deep sleep.

When you wake up, you are nestled against Ezra’s side, his tail slung protectively around you. The first thing you become aware of is his strongly beating heart, so close to your ears, and then his warmth. Your head is heavy and your body inflamed, and when you roll over onto your back, you become aware of your bulging stomach, and how the weight of its contents are pushing down on your organs.

The gasp that escapes you is filled with alarm, and Ezra is immediately there, awake, sniffing at your belly.

“You are okay,” his hushed voice reassures you. “The eggs are alive. You are alive.”

“Why wouldn’t I be alive?” you ask, unsure if you want to know the answer. Ezra slants his head.

“The previous ones died. Or the eggs died.”

You shudder, then try to sit up, but with a gentle push of his nose, Ezra makes you lie back down.

“You need rest, lots of rest,” he tells you. “I will bring you food and drink.”

“How did I get here?” you want to know. The last thing you remember was falling asleep on the bed. Ezra puffs out a breath, like he doesn’t know what to say.

“You joined me during the night. You came here, lay down next to me, and pulled my arm over you.”

You don’t know what to make of that answer, so you remain quiet. Shortly after, Ezra leaves to procure food for you.

Over the coming days, you are treated like a princess of the tales that your mother told you as a child. You rest, eat, drink, and only get up to go relieve yourself. Ezra carries you to the caverns underneath the castle, where you bathe in ancient hot springs. He fertilizes your womb continuously by fucking you, but does so carefully so as not to disturb the fragile eggs, and he pleasures you with his tongue each time.

Despite the tight, heavy burden in your belly, you have never felt better, been treated better, eaten better. Even with your elevated temperature and slightly dazed condition, you wouldn’t change this for anything else. Ezra dotes on you more than your own mother ever did, and you start to think that it may not just be because you are carrying his eggs. No, the dragon seems to actually like you, enjoy your company, your body. The way he goes out of his way to satisfy you, finding new methods to help you reach the blissful heights of ecstasy, the way he makes sure you are ready before he takes you.

“Ezra?” you ask him one night when you are curled up on your side, tucked against him.

“Yes, my pet?”

“How many are there?”

He knows immediately what you mean.

“Seven.”

You let that sink in for a moment.

“Is that a lot?”

“It is a lot,” he acknowledges. “The average is four.”

“Four?” Your head pops up, and Ezra hisses softly against your sudden movement. You lay your head back down and Ezra is at once at your belly, sniffing and prodding.

“Don’t do that,” you groan. “Stop poking it like that, it’s so uncomfortable. I can feel them move.”

He hisses again; a reprimand at your tone. You know by now that he doesn’t like it when you talk back at him – although you suspect that he secretly enjoys it, the same way he seems to enjoy it when you pull him into your sex. The way he takes you now is also different, less ferocious. He seems to derive pleasure from it, not just fucking you as a means of procreation. Since you were impregnated, you have slept next to him, finding his proximity reassuring. You imagine that he appreciates having you close by, as well, from the way he curls himself protectively around you when you lay down to sleep. He doesn’t seem to want to be away from you for long, always returning with your food as swiftly as possible. He keeps examining you, smelling your sex and your belly, clearly sensing the condition of the eggs, of which you have no perception at all. You simply carry their weight inside you, but you have no idea of how they are doing. Ezra, however, keeps close track.

You wake up from a nap with Ezra’s large head between your legs, sniffing and prodding.

“Ezra…?” you murmur, your heartbeats echoing in your cunt as his touch starts to heat up your core.

“They’re ready,” he tells you, amber eyes glowing as he looks up at you. “I can sense it, they’re all ready.”

You sit up, one hand on the curve of your abdomen as you wait for him to tell you how to proceed. He picks you up, gently, and takes you to the strange chair with the stirrups. The idea of baring yourself for him is no longer awkward: he has already seen all of you, touched you everywhere.

“This should provide you with the most comfort,” he explains as he helps you put your feet up. “It will also help with the passing of the eggs.”

You nod, unsure about what to expect. Ezra’s nostrils flare, he keeps licking his lips, and you realize that he’s nervous. From what you’ve put together, no one has ever reached this point of the reproduction process, so it’s perfectly understandable that he is worried about how it’ll go.

“It’s okay,” you tell him quietly, despite not knowing what’s about to happen. “I’m sure the eggs will be fine.”

His blinks in surprise at your words before sinking his mouth between your legs.

“I want you to feel good, pet.”

You surrender to his tongue, so familiar to you by now. When your body starts to tighten in preparation for your climax, you feel a pressure against the opening of your womb.

“Ezra…!” you keen, getting a growl in return.

“Let it go, pet, just let it go.”

Your pressure culminates with swift strokes of his agile tongue, and the massive compression slips through the tight mouth of your womb, your quivering cunt transporting it through the slick, craving canal. Reaching the final threshold to the outside world, the egg unexpectedly rushes you towards a new crest and is released in a splash of warm fluid. For a second you fear you’ve soiled yourself, but you cannot smell urine, only the warm, mossy fragrance of your own sex. Your legs shake as you draw a deep, trembling breath, and you hear a very pleased murmur from Ezra.

“A perfect egg. Well done, my sweet pet, well done.”

You catch your breath as he takes the egg to his sleeping pit, placing it on a soft hide and covering it with velvet blankets. He returns to you, sniffs at your belly and gives it a soft prod before curling his tongue around your nipples. You feel your blood heating again, the pressure against your core, and you moan Ezra’s name. He nuzzles your neck before licking down your body to your weeping cunt, where he once again start to coax a release, and with that an egg, from you.

Seven times does Ezra bring you to the stars, and when seven eggs are resting securely in his pit, you are annihilated. Your cunt is aching from pleasure and labour, you are swimming in sweat, your voice is lost due to your loud wailing.

You whimper when Ezra finally helps you down from the chair. Your legs buckle under you but you fall softly against the dragon’s strong, safe chest. He scoops you up and brings you to the hot springs under the castle. He brings you cold water to drink as you bathe and clean yourself, then takes you back to the chamber where he lets you sleep.

Once again, you wake up disoriented, and drag yourself to the pit where Ezra has curled up around his eggs.

Your eggs.

He grunts when you nestle in between his arms, but licks your cheek and resettles. Lulled back to sleep by the sound of his slowly beating heart, your last thought is of how you never want to leave.

It is clear to you that Ezra’s concerns have shifted from you to the seven eggs. He fusses over them like he did over you, and while he’s not dismissive of you, you know that the time has come for you to be returned to your village.

“When will they hatch?” you ask Ezra as you watch him re-swaddle the eggs.

“A decade from now.”

“Oh.” You’re more surprised than you perhaps should be, given what you have learned about dragons. “So it’ll be a while before someone comes down from this castle and calls me mother.”

He chuckles, a strange sound to come from him. You sit at the edge of his sleeping pit, hands folded in your lap, your old, threadbare dress feeling unfamiliar and uncomfortable after the time you’ve spent naked. Your cunt throbs in a distant memory of pleasure when you look at the dragon.

“Well…” you sigh, “I guess it’s time for me to leave.”

“I will take you to my treasure chamber,” Ezra immediately offers. “You can pick out whatever you want, however much you want.”

“I don’t… I don’t need treasure. What am I to do with treasures?”

He frowns, climbing out of the pit and sitting next to you.

“Are not treasures coveted by humans as much as by dragons?”

“Yes, but…” You bite your lower lip, your eyes fixed on the eggs. They’re the colour of wet sand, splashed with gold. They’re beautiful, and you find yourself hoping that they will make it. Ten years is a long time.

Ezra snorts, and you smell smoke. He seems agitated with you, so you stand up.

“I will take my reward and go back to my village,” you tell him stoically, knowing that there is no other way for this to end.

He brings you two chests of gold coins and jewels, and looking at them you know that the riches before you is enough to keep your entire village in comfort for the next hundred years. The thought is comforting, but you still mourn your departure.

“You are not happy,” Ezra notes. You blush a little, hoping he won’t think you ungrateful.

“I guess I’ve enjoyed myself here,” you confess quietly. “It has been… curious.”

“Would you do it again?” he asks you, and the answer is an easy one.

“Yes.”

“What if… you were to return next year?”

You lift your chin och look questioningly at him.

“My kind can lay eggs every year,” he elaborates. “If I should need a breeder next year… would you come?”

“I would.”

“There is a condition.”

“Name it.” Your heart is beating faster at the prospect of returning, and you are ready to do anything for the opportunity.

“Human semen will ruin a womb for dragon eggs. You must not give yourself to a man,” Ezra states, his tail twitching. “If you stay untouched by man, I will come for you next year.”

“As if any man’s cock would be able to satisfy me now,” you laugh, the idea as preposterous to you now as incubating dragon eggs in your womb was before you came here. Ezra’s lips curl up in a smile.

“You found great satisfaction in my cock, I gather.”

“And your tongue,” you blurt out, averting your eyes as you blush. Ezra lowers his head and pushes at your shoulder.

“Would you permit me to bestow upon you another parting gift?” he murmurs, his tail sliding over your leg. You swallow tightly, and nod.

“Then remove your dress.”

He takes you to bed, where he takes his time to satisfy you with his mouth. No longer driven by the need to breed, he instead revels in your moans and praises, listens in your gasps and pleads, denies you the release you crave, chuckles low in his chest when you curse his name, then attacks you anew with his tongue, lapping at your hungry cunt until you’re writhing and wailing in pleasure. As soon as you have caught your breath, you surprise him by reaching for his cock. Slowly, you pass your hand over the ridges of it, marvelling the heft of it and how your hand cannot reach around it. Ezra hisses low, like a purr, then growls when you kiss the tip of his cock.

“Pet…”

You look up, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“Is this wrong?”

He grunts, a ripple running through his scales. “Nobody has ever done that to me.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will do it again.”

You take the tip of his cock into your mouth and try to imitate what he did to you with his tongue. Ezra growls again, his tail slithers around you, his claws pierce the mattress underneath you. The salty, rocky taste of him grows strong as you take both your hands to your help, moving them along his jagged length as you twist your tongue over the flared head. Ezra twitches and claws at the sheets that rip with sharp cries. His hisses grow short and laboured, the taste of him grows overwhelming, but you don’t stop until he pushes you away.

“I… appreciate your efforts,” he wheezes, his cock twitching as you stroke it with a wicked smile on your face. “I would, however, prefer to let my cock know your tight cunt one last time before we part ways.”

“I would, too,” you agree softly, and let go of his cock before you turn around and get up on all fours. In one thrust, he drives in his whole length, then settles into a slow drag that tickles your cunt in just the righ way. His hot breath is on your neck and when you twist your head back, his warm tongue passes over your face. You part your lips and he slips his tongue inside. You taste pepper and moss, and you choke on your own moans when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. His forelegs are crowding you on either side of your arms, his cock is filling you, and when he raises his head again, his breathing is heavy.

“Harder,” you ask breathlessly, chin dripping with his saliva and yours. “Harder, more, please, Ezra.”

He obeys you with a growl, sliding his tail between your legs and pushing you down on it. As he ruts into you faster, your bud grinds against the scaly skin of his tail, sending sparks of fierce pleasure along your spine. You cry out his name, clawing at the sheets in the same way he is, pant your Yes! Yes! Yes! until you shudder all over, your cunt gushing in heavenly spasms. Ezra roars so loudly that your shoulders instinctively shoot up towards your ears. Your bones tremble with the low bass of it, and your cunt fills with his hot, sticky seed.

He licks you clean after, teasing your sensitive folds with that tongue that you’ve come to love.

“Are you not terribly lonely here?” you ask, drowsy after your release. Ezra’s tongue trails a wet path from your cunt to your breast.

“I will be now.”

“I could stay?”

“This is no place for you.”

You reach out a hand and caress his cheek.

“But you’ll come for me in a year?”

He blinks softly. “I promise.”

#ezra prospect #ezra au #ezra x reader #dragon!ezra #my fic

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