Labor HC (ft. Poly!Mates Bat Boys)
Warnings: intense labor, my bsf just had her first baby and told me all the horrific things 🫠, personally i never want children, thank the cauldron for healing magic, longish? compared to my other hc, i guess labor horror? the idea of giving birth scares the ever loving shit out of me
By the end of your pregnancy your stomach was the size of two side by side watermelons
Madja grew increasingly worried that you would not survive the labor at how big the babe inside of you had grown
you worried your child would tear itself out of your womb
indefinite bed rest for you
which you honestly didn't mind since it was getting difficult for you to move your body without getting tired
bat boys worry. you aren't illyrian. if the baby belonged to cassian or azriel, your body would not be able to allow for wings to grow. (paternity/gendering of the baby was not possible. all the results came back as inconclusive)
as it gets more cramped inside of you, every one of the baby's movements is felt by you.
Rhys neglects much of his work and favors spending every waking hour by your side.
Cassian and Azriel grow extremely considered when they hear commotion arising in the Hewn City. Az has heard that many in the Court of Nightmares wish for your demise in labor. They take each threat to your life seriously and spend their time ensuring the security and safety of you and your unborn child.
they can't protect you from the pain of labor though
Rhys and Az were asleep with you in the bed, Cassian preferring to stand guard outside your door.
You're pulled out of sleep rather abruptly, well aware of the unconscious tensing of your muscles as a stabbing pressure digs into your abdominal area. a tightening and squeeze so vicious that you try and sit up immediately but your big belly prevents you from doing so.
stomach churning fear rises in you. it was time.
you shake your mates awake as another squeezing pain that burned across your lower back and pelvis.
they've drilled for this. no really your bat boys have played out the scenario an annoying amount of times. Az leaps from the bed to alert Cassian, Rhys helping you sit up
Azriel leaves to fetch Madja since he's the fastest
the Wraiths prep everything you may need and wait in the room with you, Rhysand and Cassian until Azriel returns with the healer.
that's when things really start
you were already screaming when Madja arrived. Nuala and Cerridwen had prepped you for the labor if Madja were too late.
Azriel had your left hand, brows furrowed and wishing he can transfer the pain you were going through into his body. Even if this pain meant the birth of a child, he hated hearing your screams or the tears welling in your eyes as you push with all your might
Rhysand, who had been hold your right hand transfers it to Cassian's care as he moves to be by Madja side to watch the actual birth. His eyes keep darting from your lower half to your face.
you never knew bringing another life into the world was so painful. you yourself didn't know either of your parents. no one to warn you of what you would face in childbirth
your bat boys were there though, that was all that mattered.
time drags with each heave you give
then he was born. . .
Dagen. even with his wings tucked in tight, pushing him out damn near tore you from your v to your a. like that whole entire region was on fire
"O-Oh. . ." Madja gasped, clearly startled as she held your baby in her arms, having been about to pass him to Rhysand. Almost in fear she looks at Rhysand. "I. . .I think there is another babe coming. . ."
Two babies???
you didn't believe her. until you felt another intense wave of pain start up again. dagen nearly tore you in half. you couldn't imagine pushing out another baby that potentially had wings.
"no, please no" you sob, every part of you aching.
Cassian looks scared. "You can do this." his hand was numb but he didn 't care.
"We're here." Azriel nods and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze.
Rhysand was still standing a little dumbstruck with a fresh newborn in his arms.Thankfully one of the wraith sisters nudges him, her arms ready to take the baby so he can go back to focusing on the next one.
Rian arrived quickly, smaller than dagen thanks to the lack of wings
there was five minutes of peace where Rhysand and Cerridwen showed you your boys. beautiful boys that you and your mates created
until you felt another stabbing sensation.
you screamed at rhysand, azriel and cassian. damning them to a suffering in the afterlife for putting you through this.
to you this was bullshit.
it should be impossible!! then again, so was having three destined mates
Mor had called it a miracle. you now thought of it as a curse. you never knew having three mates meant giving birth to three babies at the same time
the third baby however would prove to be the most difficult. thanks to the previous two, you were beyond exhausted and begging for someone to just rip it from you. there was no way you could push it out by yourself.
Madja made the tough call of performing a cesarean section
the wraiths took away rian and dagen as the surgery took place
they'd been in wars, seen carnage, but there your bat boys were with white faces that expressed utter horror
the last baby to be delivered was a little girl with wings. your Baila.
exhausted, you pass out soon after Madja pulls her from you.
everyone is pushed out of the room except for madja herself as she sews you back up and stops the bleeding that could possibly kill you if not treated properly.
it feels like a dream to you when you wake up.
except every part of you is still suffering from a dull pain
your bat boys introduce you to your three pretty babies
i hc that dagen is azriel's, rian is rhysand's and baila is cassian's cuz i've always thought of him as a girl dad and nothing can change that lol
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5 | 🔞
summary: Jay Jo tutors you for an extra hour.
wc: 2.2k
cw: fembodied!reader, smut, university!au, tutor!jay jo, reader tests Jay's patience fr, oral (m receiving), facial cum shot, light degradation, spanking, p in v, all characters featured are 18+
an: since the prompt list had two different number 5's, NATURALLY i picked the one i've been thinking about for agesss.
“First, differentiate this part here…(-S)2 is equal to C2+S2…” Jay explains, using his pen to circle the components of the number expression you were currently working on.
Sitting beside each other in the library, knees brushing against each other every so often, you were growing antsy. It's hard trying to stay focused when all these equations are starting to look the same. And not to mention, your tutor is looking extra attractive today. But maybe that was just because of the residual tension lingering from your last tutoring session.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop interrupting me when I’m trying to teach you something?” Jay says through gritted teeth, his patience long gone after hearing you complain about being bored one too many times.
You insulted his teaching skills, which led to him getting up to leave. Truly fed up with your poor attitude because it was your grades, not his, that needed help; he only offered to tutor you for the extra credit. You’re ready to let him walk out on you until you remember that he’s the only one who had an open schedule and was down to study with you at any time of day as long as you gave him heads up. Now desperate, you begged him to stay. Unmoved by your pleas, Jay tells you to give him one good reason to deal with you.
And that’s how you ended up in this position.
Half past midnight on a Saturday, the library was sparsely populated. At least one person had fallen asleep with their face in a textbook. Aside from the three other people in the entire building, it's a ghost town. Not very many people want to pass up the Saturday parties when they can just cram on Sunday. Jay uses the lack of potential spectators to his advantage, making a mess of your mouth. There's no need to be sneaky or secretive if there's no one to witness the lewd dalliance of you and Jay. Ducked under one of the tables at the library, knees digging into the scratchy carpet while Jay kept a firm hand on the back of your head; bobbing you along his cock leisurely.
“I guess it’s true. Dumb sluts like you always give the best head.” He murmured softly, the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips as he watched your lips move up and down his shaft.
It doesn’t take long for your jaw to start aching from how wide you have to open your mouth to take him. Even with the slow pace he was fucking your mouth, you gagged and sputtered every time the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat.
With the deep strokes he gives, your drool gathers in your cheeks and slosh around with each push of his shaft until it trickles down the sides of your mouth. The way one of your soft hands squeeze and fondle his balls with your saliva acting as a lubricant, Jay is very much tempted into spilling his load down your throat. God knows he’s been craving this type of release for ages. But with how warm and slick your mouth is around him, he really doesn’t want the feeling to wane.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, sweat beaded along Jay’s hairline, his teeth gnawed at the inside of his lower lip, and he kept your hair in a vice grip. The longer he held off, the more desperate your actions would become. Nastily slurping up the mixture of precum and your spit that covers his shaft, using your tongue to massage the underside of his cock and trace along each of the pulsing veins, and even going as far to flick your tongue across the seam of his balls whenever you deepthroated him; it seemed like you were getting a point of wanting Jay to cum more than anything.
Jaw feeling like it was locked open for him to use, you looked up at Jay with glossy eyes, silently pleading for his climax. Desperation is cute on you—at least Jay thinks so, and wanting to take in the expression on your teary face, it makes the perfect incentive for him to hold out longer. Reaching down with the hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair, Jay yanks down the neckline of your shirt. Stretching out the soft fabric, he can slip his hand into one of the cups of your bra, roughly pinching your nipple. The tender flesh of your breast is used like a stress ball for Jay; his palm squeezing harder every time you hollow your cheeks around his cock.
It would be a bold faced lie to say that you never imagined yourself kneeling in the library with your tits spilling out, sucking someone off all in the name of saving your grade. But with Jay Jo of all people? Jay was just some quiet nerd to you. You were confident he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to get his dick sucked if you offered. However, that was the only correct assumption you made. He wasn’t as shy as you expected. He wasn’t awkward. And he definitely wasn’t small.
His cock felt so heavy against your tongue. You felt the true weight of it when he pulled it out of your mouth to slap against your cheek. Just the sound of his shaft making contact with your face renders your mind completely vacant. And that’s exactly how Jay wanted you. He doesn’t wanna see any semblance of a thought when you’re sucking him off; you need to save the thinking for when he was actually trying to teach you a lesson.
Deciding that he’s deprived himself of his release long enough, he guided your hand with his own to stroke his cock at the exact pace and grip he liked. Not even giving you a warning, all you saw was blurry white ribbons flying toward you before you felt warmth dripping down your face. Even in this situation, Jay’s expression was indifferent as usual albeit his flushed cheeks and labored breathing. It was only after he pulled up his pants and handed you some tissues before leaving, you were able to tell if he enjoyed this encounter.
“Same time, next week. Bring your last exam with you.”
“Jay, we’ve done so much tonight already. My brain feels like it’s gonna explode if I look at any more numbers.” You whine, laying your head down on the cool surface of the wooden table. “Can we end the tutoring session? Or at least take a break?”
“If you start slacking now, you’re not gonna be ready for finals at the end of the term.” He reminds you, using that same vacant tone he spoke with all the time.
Maybe if he was just a little more expressive, you’d feel more encouraged to power through the rest of your study session. You definitely felt more encouraged after last week. Jay wasn’t the type to make a big deal out of it, but he did acknowledge the six point increase on your quiz scores.
“At least I’m passing the class now! That deserves some sort of reward.” You insist, looking at him with puppy eyes.
Seeing that your focus had been disrupted since the beginning of the session, Jay relents.
“Fine, my reward will be helping you correct all the points you missed on your last quiz.”
Initially, when you hear his proposal, you’re ready to complain and fuss. But when Jay starts packing up his things and telling you to do the same, you’re quick to shove your notebook and pencils into your bag so you could trail after him.
Now, in the privacy in his dorm, you find yourself in yet another situation you couldn’t have foreseen. In Jay’s bed. Naked from the waist down. Settled on his lap with his cock deep inside of you but unmoving while he looked over your most recent exam. One of his hands held the neatly stapled set of pages while the other rested on the apex of your thigh.
“Didn’t I tell you how to solve these kinds of problems last time I saw you?” Jay scolds you as he looks over the first section of the questions you missed. “You did these problems just fine during our review session. How come you missed them?”
“Aah…I forgot a step of the formula.” You mumble in a wavering voice, struggling to refrain from rocking your hips against his.
“You should have that formula drilled into that pretty little head of yours by now.” He tells you sternly. “Lift your ass up.”
Obliging to his demand, you pick up your hips until only half his shaft remains inside of you. With your eyes focused on Jay’s stony expression, you don’t notice his hand coming off your thigh until he brings it down on your ass; slapping you hard and making you whine.
“Question 13 is the same. I even went over this one with you.” Jay murmurs, eyes scanning over your work shown and scoffing at the little mistakes.
“I forgot…” You mumble which earns you another mean spank to your ass.
Flipping through the rest of your test, Jay does reward you for your good work; letting you bounce yourself up and down on his cock like the needy slut you are. Your walls are slick and hot around him, dangling the idea of forgetting about your test corrections right in front of his face. As much as he wants to lose himself in the feeling of your pussy hugging him so tightly, he can’t. For just a few minutes, Jay allows himself to focus on how hot and wet you are for him.
That is, until he comes across another incorrect question. Immediately, he demands that you stop moving, giving your already burning ass cheeks several more slaps until you heed to his command. Manhandling you onto your back and telling you to hold your legs apart from him. Giving you only shallow thrusts, he reads off another problem you missed points.
You look up at Jay with a glassed over expression, trying to focus on him to explain where you went wrong but all that fills your mind is the sensation of your walls clenching around his dick and trying to lure him deeper into your heat. The hand that wasn’t holding your paper menacingly lifts up, hovering above your already stinging ass as Jay asks you what the correct answer is. And now, you’re racking your brain, trying to remember what he said about solving that particular problem.
“Is the rational value negative two?” You ask in a small voice, already squeezing your eyes shut and trying to brace yourself for the repercussion of getting a question incorrect.
“Good job.” Jay tells you, awarding you another spank that’s not as harsh as all the previous ones.
And then, your position changes again. After listening to him lecture you about everything you did wrong on your test, it’s time to actually make the corrections. Now laying flat on your stomach with your test in front of you and a pen in one hand, Jay fucks you from behind. Holding himself above you, his attention is split between rutting into you hard and watching you shakily redo each equation.
“You’re too slow.” Jay grunts out, the tip of his cock meanly pressing against your sweet spot as you struggle to scrawl out any semblance of a number. “You can’t spend too long on a single problem.”
“But-” You start to whine out, trying to reason that during a real math quiz, you wouldn’t have him rearranging your guts and making it hard to focus.
Alas, Jay wasn’t hearing it and only slams harder into that extra soft area deep within your walls, causing you to nearly drop your pen. Your handwriting is scratchy and shaky, looking more akin to a toddler’s work when it’s next to your usually legible print. Taking in a shuddering breath, you grip your pen tighter; desperate to prove to Jay that this kind of tutoring was the only way you could work with him. And the only way to do that was to actually work on your test corrections.
Unlike you, Jay is a very talented multitasker. He has no problem looking over your shoulder while you struggle to scrawl out your work on the page due to the way he was roughly slamming into you from behind.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you about the order of operations.” He murmurs in your ear, thrusts barely slowing down even as he chides you when you neglect the numbers you had just rewritten in parentheses.
“For fucks sake…” You mutter under your breath, trying to collect your thoughts for long enough to correct your mistake while also keeping back the moans that were tickling the back of your throat.
It’s funny to Jay; the way you’re able to remember to keep your ass up and back arched so he could fuck you deeper without him ever needing to tell you in the first place, but after weeks of him telling you the same fundamental math principles over and over, the material just wouldn’t stick. But could he blame you? His cock was hitting all the right places and you simply couldn’t get enough of it. Meanwhile, math was a subject you absolutely detested.
With the way things were going, it was going to be a long review session; but totally worth it if all the ones after this would be the same.
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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away
Fandom: TRR
Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)
Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.
Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions
Chapter Summary: Drake is back... but that doesn't mean that it's a happy reunion...
Word Count: 4,300
Rating/Warnings: M (shouting, guilt-tripping, dangerous driving, swearing in multiple languages, one over-heated kiss)
Chapter theme song:
Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away
I whirl around in disbelief. "Drake...!"
He's stood before me with two days' worth of stubble, regarding me with a long-suffering look.
But it really is him.
And I feel my heart swell, even though I can tell that he's not exactly best pleased to find me in a random antique shop in the middle of Rome.
The muscle in his jaw twitches. "I turn my back for one goddamn minute and—"
"What are you doing here?" I blurt.
"I can ask the same of you, Gale..." he counters, folding his arms over his chest. "Because this sure as shit ain't no bridal boutique."
My chin lifts on its own accord. "I decided to make a detour."
"Jesus fucking—" He rakes his hand through his hair. "Did you leave your brain in a ditch somewhere in the process?"
My eyes widen. "Wha—! No! I—"
"The city is crawling with paps!" he almost shouts, jabbing a finger towards the door. "Who are looking for any excuse to make a meal out of you! Did you not think for one second that—?"
"What?" I counter heatedly, stepping up to him. "That I should cower and hide instead, like I'm to blame for it all? I told you — I refuse to let these people—"
"Well, it would've been a damn sight better than making me chase you across half the fucking city!"
"Why were you even chasing after me?" I demand, my own ire flaring. "You're supposed to be in Dubai!"
"Been there, done that, got the jet lag to prove it," he hits back sarcastically. "But just because I'm gone doesn't mean you suddenly have carte blanche to fuck off on your own."
"Says the person who walked off without so much as a 'see you later'..."
His mouth hardens. "I didn't want to—"
"Also, I'm not on my own," I continue testily. "Allard and Schweitzer—"
"—are fucking fired," he cuts in, suddenly darkened mocha eyes flashing. "They should never have—"
"Ch'è qualche problema?"
"No!" Drake and I snap in unison.
The old man falls mute before muttering something disparaging under his breath.
I continue staring at Drake, heart thumping and chest heaving in the wake of our dust-up.
He glares back unblinkingly, jaw clenched as the tension rolls off him in palatable waves.
I reach up to adjust the strap of my tote indignantly. "So much for trusting each other, huh, Walker?"
"Dammit, Gale," he growls. "That's not what—"
Grabbing the wrapped box off the counter, I stomp past him without a backwards glance. "See you back at the embassy."
He has some nerve, showing up out of the blue t—
I barely make it two steps before he's grabbed me by the arm.
I open my mouth to retort...
...but I'm not given a chance to get a word in edgeways, because in the next instant, he's slammed me against his chest, laying claim to my mouth with a ferocity that's on the verge of being savage.
The fight whooshes out of me as my arms fly up to wrap themselves 'round his neck, even as I feel his fingers dig against the soft cotton of my dress, pulling me to him like a long-lost ship to anchor.
"Christ, girl," he growls against my lips. "You send me off the edge of reason..."
"I'm... sorry..." I gasp, clinging to him helplessly as he trails down the line of my jaw. "I didn't mean to—"
"Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello."
Drake starts as he gets clapped roundly on the back.
Peeking up, I see the shopkeeper smirking at us conspiratorially while ambling past.
"Err... Sì," coughs Drake, pulling back from me. "Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese..."
The man laughs in response. "Non capita a tutti?"
"You speak Italian?" I gawp, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks as the old man throws us a wink over his shoulder.
"Uh... Yeah..." Drake mutters, running his hand over the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "With Bast."
"Oh." I glance between him and the old man. "What did he say?"
"An old proverb," Drake says, looking just as embarrassed as I am feeling about the fact that we'd inadvertently let our dirty laundry rip in the company of a complete stranger. "Love is not beautiful if it does not quarrel."
My cheeks redden further. "I-I see..."
"It's kind of a compliment..." he admits, shooting a sidelong glance over at the man, who's now busy dusting some shelves. "But we should probably get out of his hair."
"Definitely...!" I chirp, diving towards the saving grace of the exit.
"Err... La saluto," offers Drake on his way out. "E scusi il disturbo..."
"Eh!" comes the scoffed response. "Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona."
"Lo so..."
"Everything alright?" I ask as Drake joins me on the baking pavement.
"Yeah," he assures me, not quite meeting my eye. "Just giving his two cents..."
Something flashes across his face, too fast for me to read.
But before I can ask him about it, he's already marching me across the square.
"What about Allard and Schweitzer?" I protest, trying to squint behind me as Drake navigates us 'round the incessant stream of sightseers. "Are they—?"
"I sent them back to the embassy," Drake replies, yanking me back as a pair of kids dart out in front of me.
"You didn't actually fire them, did you?" I gasp.
"Sure as hell thinking about it," he mutters, moving us forward again.
"If it's any consolation, they did try to talk me out of coming out here..."
"Clearly not hard enough."
"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," I remind him.
He lets out a low breath. "Don't I fuckin' know it..."
"Look," I say, coming to a stop and turning to face him. "I get you're pissed—"
"That's putting it mildly."
"—but don't take it out on Allard and Schweitzer," I tell him flatly. "They didn't do anything wrong... and I actually get along with them."
He holds my gaze for a long time before answering. "They're not your friends, Gale."
"Maybe not in any conventional sense," I admit. "But getting me a security detail had been your idea, Walker. And I know I was against it initially, but Allard and Schweitzer have been able to be there for me when you haven't."
His mouth hardens.
"And I know that grates you," I continue quickly, before he can cut me off again. "But we knew from the start that this was going to be the case, so if you do need to leave, then I'd prefer to be left with people I can trust. And I trust Allard and Schweitzer — with my life. Which is actually saying a lot."
He holds my gaze for what feels like a full minute before answering. "I'll think about it."
"That's it?" I demand in disbelief as he grabs my wrist to pull me after him again. "After all that, you're just going t—?"
"I said I'll think about it."
I glare at his back. "You're a dick."
He rounds on me like a wolf. "I'm a fuckin' realist. And the reality is that Allard and Schweitzer messed up. Big time. And I don't care how much you like them, or how many times you've braided each other's hair—"
My eyes narrow. "That's not—"
"—because none of that fucking matters out here! What matters — the only goddamn thing that matters — is keeping you safe. From the paps, from the aristos, even from your ownfucking self, if you're about to do something stupid. And at that, they've unquestionably failed. So, no. I'm not about to cut them a break. Especially not on your say-so. Because the stakes are too fucking real, and I'm not gonna let anyone play dice with your life. Least of all the people whose one job is to look out for you. Got it?"
I force myself to blink back the sudden tears in my eyes. "Yeah..."
"Good," he grunts. "Now get on."
Glancing past Drake, I spot what is very literally the last thing I'd expect to see him with.
I scoff up at him. "In your dreams, bud."
"Gale," he warns, reaching for one of the helmets that's hanging from the black and white moped's frame. "I'm not in the fucking m—"
"Well, neither am I," I hit back tersely. "So, you can take that deathtrap of a Vespa and shove it."
"First off," he counters, tossing the helmet at me. "It's a Piaggio. Second, the only reason I had to resort to this is because you decided to bail."
I catch the helmet irately. "So, you're saying that this is my fault?"
"Damn right, it is," he confirms, extracting a second helmet from the storage compartment nestled beneath the seat. "It's got all of 50cc so it's underpowered as fuck."
"Then why the heck did you get it!"
"Because it's the fastest way to get around the city."
I snort at him. "You mean, it's the fastest way to get into an accident..."
He prays for deliverance under his breath. "Gale, for the love of Christ, will you just—?"
"No," I declare, folding my arms. "The last time you conned me onto the back of your motorbike, I literally thought I was going to die. And after seeing how everyone in Rome drives, I have no interest in—"
"You drive, then."
Drake's unexpected offer pulls me up short. "Wait. What?"
He pulls a set of keys from his pocket. "It's a one-time offer, Gale. Either you take the wheel, or I do. But you've gettin' your ass on this sorry excuse of a bike, one way or another."
"I..." I swallow thickly. "I don't know how..."
"I'll walk you through it," he assures me. "There ain't much to it."
"Somehow I doubt that..."
"Clock's tickin', girl..."
I heave a breath before shoving my head into my helmet. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."
"Figured you would," he murmurs, holding the keys up. "You know where these go?"
"Up your ass," I retort, snatching the keychain from his hands.
The corner of his mouth twitches — whether in amusement or annoyance, I can't tell.
Not that I really care. I can be a jerk, too. But, I figure that at least with me driving, we won't rack up any speeding tickets or near misses on our way back to the Cordonian embassy, which is where we are staying for the two nights that we are in Rome for.
Walking up to the moped — admittedly with more swagger than I'm actually feeling at this moment — I grab the handlebars and swing my leg over the middle of the frame.
After a quick inspection, I locate the ignition switch and slot the key in.
But before I have a chance to try and turn the engine on, Drake's hand appears in my line of sight.
Reaching between my legs, he opens a hidden compartment in the frame. "For your bag."
"Oh," I say in genuine surprise, taking my bag off so I can tuck it away. "That is actually kind of neat."
"Last thing we need is for you to lose your stuff..." he drawls, shutting the glove box back up.
As he straightens again, his arm brushes the bare skin of my knee. And despite (or maybe because of) the unresolved tension shimmering between us in the wake of our heated reunion, I can't help but feel a familiar zap of electricity course through my nerves at the inadvertent contact.
"No kidding..." I concede, somewhat hoarsely. Clearing my throat, I add, "So... umm, what's next?"
"Grab the break and turn the key over as far as it'll go."
"So, kind of like a car," I surmise, following the instructions. "Why isn't it starting?"
"Because you only turned the electronics on," Drake advises. "To kick the engine off, you need to disengage the kick stand, and then press the start button."
"Jesus Christ, this is complicated..." I grumble as I scoot off the seat so I can try to figure out how to do what he just said.
"No more complicated than sailing a yacht," Drake counters, watching my antics from the safety of the pavement. "Just give it a shove ."
"How will that—?"
"It's got a rear-mounted kickstand," he says. "You disengage it by rolling the bike forward."
"Right," I grumble, feeling like a total idiot. "Because that's so obvious."
Maybe I should've let Drake drive, after all...
"You still holding the break?"
I snap my head up as I give the handlebars a hard push. "Huh?"
A squeal erupts from my mouth as the moped suddenly lurches forward beneath me, and I have a moment of sheer panic as I wrestle with the hunk of metal to keep from crashing to the ground.
"I told you to hold the break..."
"You could've been more specific!"
He lets out a low breath. "You good?"
"Yeah," I huff, finally managing to find some semblance of balance with an uncooperative moped stuck between my legs.
"Turn her on, then."
I scan the buttons in front of me. "Err..."
"The one by your right thumb."
Shifting my grip, I extend my thumb out to press the button...
"You still holdin' the break?" Drake asks.
I quickly tighten my hold on the left-side break. "Yes."
Drake eyes me unconvincedly. "Just checking..."
I stick my tongue out at him.
"Hey," he objects. "You're the one who wanted to do this, Gale."
"Yeah, everything is my fault today..." I grumble as I press the start button.
The moped sparks to life beneath me, and I feel a massive rush of achievement.
"I did it!" I cry, meeting Drake's eye with an unadulterated grin.
He quirks a brow at me. "Y'know you're still stationary, right?"
"Shut up."
Drake steps up to the bike with a shake of his head and flips out the passenger foot rest. "Last chance to bow out gracefully, Gale."
I glance over my shoulder at him. "If you're trying to pull some kind of reverse psychology on me, Walker—"
"Wouldn't dream of it..." he assures me dryly, mounting up as well. "But my word is gospel, y'hear?"
"Aye-aye, Cap'n," I say sardonically... while trying to ignore the heat of his body and the instinctive urge to lean back into it as he settles down on the narrow seat behind me.
Because as much as I missed him, and as glad as I am that he's back, our volatile reunion has served as a stark reminder that we never finished our conversation back in Applewood. Not only that, but thanks to the almost break-neck speed at which things have been happening, the list of topics for discussion has only grown since then.
And the last thing I want is for us to fall down the same toxic hole that we did in the wake of Christian's surprise reveal in Valtoria.
I just have to hope that we'll be able to squeeze in some much-needed couple time before even more things pile up between us.
Not to mention, I'm desperate to know what had happened with Tariq in Dubai... and whether Drake's record-fast turnaround was a sign of some much-needed success, or even more demoralising failure.
But, first things first: getting back to the embassy in one piece, without the paps chasing us.
I feel Drake roll his eyes at me. "Wrong salutation, but never mind... Now. We're gonna do this slowly and gently. There's a lot of people around, and we don't need you on the front page of the Sun again because you accidentally torpedoed a toddler."
My throat constricts. "Y-You saw that?"
"You'd be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't," he mutters. "But right now, your focus needs to be on driving this thing. So, eyes up front and ignore everything else."
I swallow down my nerves. "Okay..."
"Your right hand controls the throttle. Your left hand controls the break," Drake instructs. "For the love of God, don't mix that up, or I'll be on the phone to your patents explaining why you suddenly need skin grafts."
I wince involuntarily at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "Got it."
"It's a mistake you'll only make once," he warns grimly. "To get going, twist down on the throttle while slowly easing up on the break. Don't jerk it, or you'll face plant into the speedometer."
"Anything else?" I ask, somewhat nervously.
As anticipated, driving a motorbike is a lot more nuanced than Drake made it look back in Cordonia. And I'm having some serious second thoughts about this whole thing...
"Keep your feet off the foot-stand until you've got enough momentum to stay upright."
"How will I know that?"
"You'll feel it," he assures me. "Like on a bike."
I bite my bottom lip.
"Hey," he says, brushing his fingers across my hip. "You got this, girl."
The familiarity of Drake's touch — even though it's fleeting — unwinds something in me. Because it's an unspoken reminder that no matter what may be going on around us... or between us, it's not going to come in the way of the promise that he made me.
I suck in a steadying breath. "Okay. Here goes."
Readjusting my grip on the handlebars, I twist my wrist down. Feeling the engine start to rumble with increased vigour, I gentle ease up on the break.
The Piaggio begins to creep forward.
"Watch the road, not the instruments," Drake cautions from behind me.
Lifting my eyes up, I carefully navigate us 'round the oncoming pedestrians, keeping my feet suspended alongside the moped, in case I need to make an emergency stop.
But, as we move away from the iconic landmark, the crowd starts to thin out, and the street widens. Passing a fruit and vegetable stand, I let go of the break fully, the bike pulls forward eagerly. Feeling slightly more confident, I add a bit more gas so I can finally lift my feet up without capsizing our delicate operation.
"Not bad," Drake approves. "You just gotta relax a bit."
I flush inadvertently. "I am relaxed."
"Your shoulders say different. You're driving like Quasimodo."
"Oh." I make a concerted effort to straighten my posture. "Better?"
"Yeah. But now you need to drop your elbows."
"So much for this being easy..."
"It is," he insists. "Once you get the hang of it."
"You and your technicalities, Walker..." I grumble.
"Everything's got a learning curve," he reminds me. "But we just might make a Hell's Angel out of you yet."
I snort back at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Evil Knievel. We haven't made it back to the embassy yet."
"Then you might wanna knuckle down for this next part."
"Why? What's—?"
I get my answer as we round a corner and come parallel to a busier-looking road.
Great...
"Right here, then first left," Drake advises as we approach a somewhat complicated-looking three-way intersection.
"Umm... Okay..." I mumble, eyeing up the noticeably faster-moving traffic on the main road with more than a bit of trepidation.
"No one's gonna give you room, so you'll have to gun it," comes the no-nonsense tip from behind me. "The indicator is by your left thumb."
A Fiat whizzes past, but the next car is some distance away. Taking a breath, I flick the indicator on and twist down on the throttle to merge into the gap.
"Move over one more," Drake shouts over my shoulder. "You're taking up the bus lane."
"Where the heck does it say that?" I demand, casting my head around in confusion.
"On the sign we just passed..."
"Was it invisible?"
"Hey," counters Drake. "You wanna argue with me, or a cop?"
"Neither," I concede sourly, making the switch to the left-side lane after a quick check in the mirror. "But they could've made it more obvious..."
Drake scoffs. "It's Rome. The bastards are trying to catch you out."
"Clearly," I agree, taking a left at the traffic lights...
...straight into a two-way fork in the road.
"Umm... What now?" I squeak, trying to hedge my bets as much as I can in the rapidly shrinking room that I have to make a decision before I run into the curb.
"Stay left."
I start to turn the bike, only to yank it back violently with a yelp as a car that I hadn't realised was trying to overtake me blows past with a scream of its horn.
"Vaffanculo!" yells Drake, throwing his hand out angrily at the other driver.
"Ohmygod..." I rasp, my entire body shaking in the wake of the near miss.
"Fuckin' asshole," gripes Drake. "You okay?"
I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat. "I... think so."
"If you need to pull over..."
I shake my head. "No. I'm fine. I just..."
"...get a kick outta playing chicken?"
"I don't do it on purpose!"
"You sure?" he asks dryly. "'Cause you definitely seem to be making a habit of it..."
I open my mouth, but quickly think better of it... as Drake has a point. I have had a few too many near misses lately. "Sorry... It isn't intentional. I thought that since I'd left the indicator on, that—"
"I know," he assures me, laying a hand on my hip again. "I'm not blaming you. But all the calls you've had had been too close. And..." His fingers tighten against the material of my dress. "I just don't want you to—"
"I know," I concede softly. "I don't want that either. And I'm not normally this accident-prone, I promise..."
"Except when your blood sugar's low," he corrects wryly.
His words cause me to clench my eyes together in consternation. "Damn it, the croissants..."
In the whirlwind of Drake's surprise reappearance, I'd forgotten all about the primary reason for sneaking away from the bridal boutique.
"What croissants?" queries Drake.
"The pistachio ones I was supposed to get from this little bakery next to the fountain that the Italian President had recommended."
I feel Drake's disbelieving gaze knife into the back of my head. "Seriously? That's the reason you were out playing hooky?"
"One of them, yes..." I reply evasively.
"Putain de merde..."
"Apparently they're very good..."
Drake mutters something under his breath. "Pull over."
My eyes widen. "What? Why?"
"Because it's past noon, and you're clearly starving."
"I'm fine," I insist, even though the only thing of substance I've had since this morning was the cup of coffee on Olivia's jet. "I'll just grab something when—"
The Piaggio lurches to a stop as Drake slaps a hand on the break. "No. You won't."
My eyes widen as my feet fly out on instinct to steady the suddenly stationary moped. "Why not?"
"Because the staff at the embassy already have their work cut out pulling together tonight's dinner, so the kitchen is off-limits," he explains, hopping off the back. "And you won't be able to take two steps outside to grab a sandwich without picking up a pap tail."
"Then why have we stopped in a dead-end alley?" I ask in disbelief as Drake pulls the moped it onto its kickstand while I'm still sat gaping at him from the seat.
"Because we just passed one of the best restaurants in Rome," he states. "So, I'm buying you lunch."
His cinnamon-laced eyes meet mine, and I see a sudden flash of rawness in his gaze... a silent plea entreating me to say yes. Which means this is about more than just food.
"Okay," I accede, wondering what could've prompted such a sudden change of heart. "But what about the paps? Aren't you worried we'll get spotted?"
"See any people?" asks Drake, reaching across my lap to turn the ignition off.
"No, but—"
"Exactly," he affirms, pocketing the keys. "This is one of the few places in the city where you ain't gonna bump into a reporter."
"How do you know?"
"Because apart from the fact that Sugo actually makes its own pasta, it is also a stone's throw from Parliament," he explains, offering me a hand to help me off the bike. "Which means that pencil pushers from every level of government come here to ink deals over carbonara, so no one — staff included — is gonna mess with the status quo."
"Sounds like something out of a mafia movie..."
"Where d'you think Hollywood gets its ideas from?" he drawls, pulling his helmet off to stow it in the under-seat compartment. "Places like this. Which is why no one will bother us here. Especially not the paps. It'd be a death sentence for this joint if their tight and discreet ship suddenly sprung a leak."
"Good to know," I acknowledge, unclipping the clasp of my own helmet. "But how did you even find out about this place? Let alone got in?"
"Leo," Drake replies, taking my helmet to clip it onto the handlebar. "He's on a first name basis with the chef."
I quirk a brow at him. "Sounds like there's a story there..."
Drake extricates my bag from the glove box with scoffs. "It's Leo. There's never not a story. But let's get you inside first. Before you pass out on the pavement."
"I'm not going to—" My stomach rumbles in pointed disagreement. "Okay, I am hungry. But where exactly is this place? There's nothing here apart from the back-ends of buildings..."
"Have I ever let you down when it comes to food?" he asks with a raised brow.
"No..."
"Then trust me."
The story continues in Chapter 21 - Coming Soon!
A/N: Translations for the Italian below:
Ch'è qualche problema? - Is there a problem?
Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello. - Ah, love... It is not beautiful if it does not quarrel.
Err... Sì. Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese... - Err... Yes. I am definitely learning that the hard way.
Non capita a tutti? - Don't we all?
Err... La saluto. E scusi il disturbo... - Err... Farewell. And apologies for disturbing you.
Eh! Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona. - Eh! No risk, no reward! But you better take care of her! Good woman – worth a crown.
Lo so... - I know...
Vaffanculo! - Fuck you!
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