#pero tovar x female reader

[brewsterispunkk]

marriage of convenience: part 5

pairing: pero tovar x f!reader

WC: 10.1k (longest part yet!)

summary: reader’s relationship w/tovar develops. she and lisbeth dare an adventure.

a/n: thank you to everyone who has stuck with this. it has been months (!!) since I updated this story so if you’re still here—thank you. i hope u enjoy this extra long update :)

series masterlist

PART FIVE

“My love,” your mother called as you made your way to the door, rushing. Tovar was already annoyed at how late you were running, waiting outside, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting for long. He was already unpleasant enough.

“Yes?” You threw over your shoulder, already halfway out the door. 

“Will you see Lisbeth today?”

“I expect so.”

“Give these to her for me,” she handed you a bundle wrapped in linen–herbs, of course. Your mother was practically an apothecary at this point. “They’re for her mother’s headaches. And when you stop by Olga’s today, see if she has any of the lemon-honey concoction she uses during the cold months.”

You puzzled. It was late May–your family would not be in need of such a thing until mid-autumn at the latest. 

“Why? Will she even have some? It is early summer.”

“I expect she will,” Your mother walks in from the kitchen. “She always has some reserves for the occasional late spring cold. It is for your father. His breathing has gotten worse.”

Your stomach turns to stone, but you force yourself to nod as you take your basket and leave through the rickety front door.

Of course. Of course it was for your father. You silently said a prayer to whatever god was listening for his recovery, like you always did whenever he took a turn for the worse. 

He had always had issues with his health, ever since he came back from the war when you were twelve. 

It began with a leg injury that never really recovered–he’d taken an arrow to the shoulder and fallen off his horse, breaking his leg in the process. If your mother had been there, he would have healed almost completely and even been able to walk again, but the encampment he had been in had no one with healing knowledge. The wound had festered, according to your mother, and your father was lucky to be alive. He hadn’t walked fully since. 

The injury had caused your father to have to sell his blacksmith’s shop in town–the one Tovar apprenticed at now. 

His health had been slowly declining ever since. Last winter, he suffered a chill and a bout of a coughing illness that took his ability to breath unencumbered, the winter before that, he’d suffered fainting spells and lost feeling in his injured leg. Until recently, he’d been able to hobble down the stairs with the help of your mother, but in the past weeks, he has been too weak to even make it downstairs for supper. You feared the worst, as you always did. 

Graciela and James, your two siblings with enough sense to know something was wrong, were more hopeful than you. 

“He will recover soon. He always does.”

Grace had told you the night before, over mending by the fire. Your mother was so weary these days that the two of you had to do much of the household chores. “Womens’ work,’ Petyr called it. You dreaded it and found it odious, but it was your duty. You would not let it fall to your mother, who had enough on her plate keeping the family afloat.

You wished you could believe your sister, but you were always the more cynical one. 

You’d spent the better part of your life waiting for the next hammer to fall; waiting for the day when your father didn’t recover and the family was left in the care of the next male relative in line. Petyr. The very thought made your blood turn cold. 

If Petyr treated you the way he did now, when your father was alive and coherent, you had no desire to discover what horrors would await you when your father departed from this world. 

There had been a time when you dreamed of marriage; yearned for it, even. There had been years when you and Lisbeth, on May Day, had gathered ten different kinds of wildflowers and put them under your pillow to dream of your true love, a practice your mother swore led her parents to find each other. 

But as you grew older, more well-versed in the ways of the world, it dawned on you that real life was rarely like the tales that bards sang of. At least, for people like you. You also knew that if you ever dreamed of escaping your village, of seeing all the world had to offer, marriage would end all aspirations of that. 

You squared your shoulders as you stepped out into the fresh morning air in front of your family’s small home, urging all thoughts of your father’s illness to the back of your head. 

“Took you long enough,” Tovar grunted from where he leaned on the small wooden fence meant to keep the family goat in. “We will be late. The blacksmith will not like it.”

You rolled your eyes, opening the gate and walking past him onto the small road that led through the forest and into town. 

“Then remind him who it is you live with. He will have no qualms.” 

It was one of the things you hated most about him; his tendency to take everything so seriously. 

“Just because your father trained him does not mean he will extend me grace,” Tovar grumbled from behind you. You could hear the buckles bump against the metal of his armor. 

That was something that puzzled you; you didn’t know why he still wore it—he wasn’t at war, and nothing so exciting as a sword fight ever happened in your village. 

“And why not?” You asked, entering the treeline. The trees cast shadows on the dirt road in the early morning light. “He would do so with William or any one of my brothers if they expressed interest in the family trade.”

Tovar huffed in annoyance from behind you and your lips curled into a smirk. It had become one of your pastimes in the weeks that he’d been escorting you to and from the market. You liked to see how annoyed he could get. 

“I am not like your brothers,” he said. “Or William for that matter.”

You chuckled—that much was obvious. Your brothers and your cousin were much more open, more kind than Tovar, who barely expressed any emotion besides annoyance and occasional anger. 

“That I know,” you threw back at him. “No one would ever accuse you of being as sunny as them.”

“That is not what I meant.”

You puzzled and turned behind you, realizing what he was implying. 

“You think it is because you are foreign?” You asked in disbelief. “From another kingdom?”

Tovar kept walking, face impassive, not betraying any emotion but annoyance. 

“It is the same in this part of the world as it is in others,” he says like it’s nothing. “They need but look at me for a moment to tell that I am unlike them.”

You rolled your eyes. So dramatic. 

“This village is used to foreigners,” you said matter-of-factly. “We see strange people from strange places every day. People trade everything from silk from the far east to salt from the continent to the south. You aren’t so special.”

Tovar just leveled you with a dry look, and you took it as a sign to keep talking. 

“Your scowl and that armor don’t help,” you added with a smirk, swinging your basket back and forth beside you as you walked. 

“What is wrong with my armor?” Tovar sounded puzzled. You stifled a laugh.

“Really?” You turned your head to stare at him, but found his brows furrowed in genuine confusion. You sighed. “You walk into the village everyday in full armor. Like you expect someone to put a dagger in your side at any moment. You do not smile, do not try to speak with anyone unless it is for trade. You should not be surprised people are wary of you.”

“I wear my armor everywhere except when I sleep. It is—”

“A habit, I’m sure,” you finished for him. “But still, this is a peaceful village. The most violence we see is from a brawl at the tavern or a rowdy group of traders on leave. Wearing full battle armor sends the message that you don’t trust us. And that makes people nervous.”

It was true—there hadn’t been even a skirmish on your lands in years. Not since the war, when the old Lord died and power passed to his son. Since then, your land had known peace. 

Tovar huffed what you almost thought was a laugh, but when you looked back at him, his mouth was downturned and his eyes were narrow. 

“I don’t trust you.”  

At that, you laughed, a deep thing from deep in your stomach. If someone told you Tovar slept with a knife beneath his head, you’d believe them. You weren’t even sure he trusted William.

“That I believe,” you shook your head and continued down the dirt road to town, leaving a grumbling Tovar trudging behind you. 

—-

In the recent weeks, you and Tovar had begun to form a kind of begrudging companionship.

You still didn’t like him–not in the least. He was uncouth and rude. He never exchanged pleasantries with anyone at the market and you were sure you’d never seen him smile. Not even once. And the two of you often bickered. So much so that your mother had taken to seating you on opposite sides of the table at dinner to avoid as much conflict as possible. 

Hence, the begrudging part. The companionship merely meant that you had begun to be able to tolerate his presence. Barely. 

Your brother hadn’t reared his ugly head in the recent weeks either, being either too drunk or preoccupied with other things to notice you. That was a blessing in and of itself. You still hadn’t really gotten over the embarrassment that had come over you at Tovar seeing your bruises. You knew it was what caused him to volunteer to escort you to town daily and still, you hadn’t addressed it with him. 

Still, as May slogged into June, you were stuck with him. Unless you wanted your drunk, unpredictable, brute of a brother to accompany you to the townsquare every other morning, you had to learn to endure the company of the quiet Spaniard. 

And endure you did.

You’d learned not to ask questions; whenever you did, you were either met with silence, or a stilted, annoyed response. In fact, the conversation you’d shared this morning was the longest conversation you’d had with him.

That was just one thing that set Tovar apart from your cousin, William. Both men had seen so much of the world, lived so many different lives, and while William spoke of his time abroad with bright eyed and excited words, Tovar’s past hung over him like a heavy cloud. You didn’t know what the grizzled mercenary had experienced during his time traveling, but whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Which was difficult for you—you could listen to William talk for hours about his time on the road. But, you’d heard all of William’s stories. Tovar kept whatever tales of his travels closer to his chest than his armor. And you resented him for it. 

You resented that with all the freedom in the world, with a lifetime of stories and lived experiences under his belt, with the blessing of being born as a man in this world, he had the nerve to act the way he did: angry at the world, scowling at every kind face. 

The absence of that—of freedom—pulsed and throbbed deep in your chest. And all you could feel was anger.

The sights and smells of the town’s center flooded your senses when you reached the market. You took a deep breath and tried to savor it: the aroma of spices from far-off places, the sharp smell of lemons from Arabia, the colorful hues of silk and fabric, the bustle of business and trade. It was as much of the wide world you were afforded, so you took it in with wide eyes and a smile. 

You looked down to your basket, mentally going over the deliveries and trades you had to make before meeting with Lisbeth by the bakery. You were fingering a sprig of stray lavender when Tovar nudged your shoulder, breaking your train of thought. You turned and glared at him. 

“I will leave you here,” he mumbled, looking around you and scanning the faces of the people bustling by. “You will meet me at the blacksmith’s when you are finished.”

“I will, will I?” You asked, feeling your temper flare. You hated when he gave you orders–like you were an animal and not a person. 

Tovar leveled you with a dry look, before rolling his eyes himself. 

“Do not be late,” he said, before adjusting his satchel and walking away. 

You glared at his back as he went, cursing the broad expanse of his shoulders. Not only was he an ass, but he was a handsome ass. That was even worse.

With a sigh, you set about making your first delivery, already planning on being late to meet Tovar later in the day.

- - 

By the time you’d completed your second delivery, the sun was high in the sky and strong. You could feel the back of your neck glisten and knew that when you looked in the mirror at the end of the day, there would be freckles dusted across your cheeks. 

You’d already delivered one order of tea to the miller’s wife, who promised you a satchel of grain in return by week’s end, and traded the town seamstress for some new thread. Your stomach buzzed with excitement at the news you’d heard as you left the seamstress’s parlor. 

It had been a normal business dealing: the seamstress, an elderly woman who had been a friend of your grandmother, had long been a customer of your mother’s. You knew her well. Your mother had sent you to get new thread for mending, but you always stayed for a cup of tea whenever the seamstress, Agnetha, whenever you traded with her.

“You look more like your grandmother every time I see you,” she said, sitting down gingerly on a stool behind the wooden counter at the front of the shop. 

You smiled at her. You’d never met your paternal grandmother, but you had always been told that you resembled her—the same facial structure, the same hair, the same stubborn spirit. It warmed you to hear it from someone who knew her so well. 

“Thank you,” you said, finishing the cup of herbal tea and setting it down. “And thank you for the thread. My mother sends her regards. She apologizes that she can’t be here to see you in person.”

“Oh, pay it no mind dear,” Agnetha’s gnarled hand pats yours. “With a household to run and that business with your father, god only knows how she can manage it all.”

You clench your teeth at the mention of your father. That was what it was like living in a village of this size: no one’s business was private. 

“I was sorry to hear about your father, dear,” Agnetha continued. “Do let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“Thank you,” your lips spread into a tight-lipped smile. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the sentiment–you did—it was just that you had grown tired of hearing the same sentiments from everyone. It was suffocating, having everyone know the trials of your family. 

“I must take my leave, I’m afraid,” you said after a beat. “I must make haste if I am to finish all my business by day’s end.”

“Of course,” Agnetha waved you off, but then held one finger up, turning back to the back room of her shop. “But give me one moment! I had forgotten—I have something for you.”

You puzzled but obeyed, your interest piqued. What could she possibly have for you?

After a moment, the white-haired woman reappeared with a bushel of flowers with small, white petals: yarrow. She held them out to you. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“What is–”

“For tonight, my dear,” she leaned in and smiled at you like you were in on some secret. Your confusion grew.

Nothing save for seasonal festivals and feasts ever happened in your village. Besides, if there was anything happening tonight, you were sure you’d know about it. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean—”

“Oh, hush,” Agnetha cackled. “I remember it all too well when I was your age. Your grandmother and I snuck off to Geris many a time when we were girls. These are for your hair. It is said they will bring you good fortune and a happy husband if worn on the feast of Saint Julia.”

“Geris,” you mumbled, all of it clicking into place.

Geris was a neighboring village—a town really—nearly an hour walk north of your own. It was larger and a bigger hub for trade than your own home, as it bordered the sea. Petyr would often go there to drink or gamble with his friends, sometimes not returning for days on end. You had never been. 

“There is a festival in Geris today?” You asked Agnetha, who now looked as confused as you had been moments ago.

“Why yes,” she laughs. “The largest one of the year—Saint Julia is the patron saint of Geris. I–did you not know?”

“No,” you laughed, suddenly giddy with excitement, already plotting in your head how you could sneak off to experience it for yourself.

“How the times have changed,” Agnetha hummed. “When I was young, it was every mama’s worst nightmare for her daughter to sneak off to the festival of Saint Julia.”

“Is it still as grand as you remember it?” 

“I imagine so,” she smiled. “The dancing is what I loved the most.”

“Well then,” you smiled at her. “I believe I shall have to dance, won’t I?” You took the flowers from her. “With flowers in my hair.”

Agnetha smiled a secretive grin and patted your hand. 

“Do, dear. Twirl a little extra for me,” she said. “Now, be on your way—and be safe!”

You thanked her and left, walking out into the balmy warmth of mid-morning, feeling all-of-a-sudden more hopeful than you had that morning.

- 

You met Lisbeth by the miller’s pond just before noon, like you’d planned. It had been your meeting place whenever the two of you were in town for years. Growing up, since your father’s property bordered here, you’d often meet in the forest. But, once you’d become old enough to do some of the household work trading in the village, you’d had to find a place to meet during the day. 

Now, you buzzed with excitement, the news of the festival on the tip of your tongue. 

Recently, you’d been itching to do anything to distract yourself from the monotony of life in your village. As the days got warmer, more and more traders passed through, bringing with them goods and stories from far-away lands. Lands you longed to see, but knew you never would. You longed to stretch your wings, if only a little. Sneaking off to Geris would be the perfect opportunity to do that. Now the only issue was convincing Lisbeth.

You wiggled your toes in your shoes as you saw her approach, eager what you’d heard back to her. You just hoped she would be willing to go with you. 

While Lisbeth understood your desires to leave, explore, and see the world, they were not desires she shared. She had always, ever since you could remember, wanted to be married. She sighed at tales of princesses and knights, longed to fall in love and have children. And you knew that when she did that, it would be beautiful. Still, a small part of you envied her for her dreams. You wished that that could be enough for you. 

As she approached you, Lisbeth rooted through her basket, looking for something buried in its depths. 

“Please tell me you have the herbs for my mother’s headaches,” she groaned as she came to stand beside you, leaning on the wooden fence by the pond. “If I have to listen to her moaning for one more day, I will bash my skull against the wall.”

You grinned at her. 

“What?” She asked, finally looking at you. She furrowed her eyebrows. “Why do you have that look—”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh dear God,” she sighed. “What is it this time?”

“Before I begin, you must promise to at least consider my proposition,” you raised your eyebrows. Lisbeth sighed your name. “Promise.”

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll consider it. Now tell me, I am withering away in suspense.”

“Alright,” you smiled. “We always complain that nothing ever happens here, right?”

“Yes.”

“And we moan about wanting to see more of the rest of the world, of the rest of the country—”

“I would say you complain more than I—”

“Yes, yes, whatever,” you waved her away, causing her to laugh. “Tonight, there is to be a festival in Geris. If we leave after sunset, when our families go to sleep, we can be home before dawn—”

“Geris?” Lisbeth’s eyes widened. “That is madness—”

“It isn’t!” You assured her. “We have walked further distances many times to trade before. The only difference is—”

“It will be night!” Lisbeth shook her head. “After reports of criminals in the woods in the surrounding villages, do you really think it smart to go venturing to Geris after dark?”

You sighed. 

“No,” she raised her hand. “Do not try to argue. You have a chaperone now because of the dangers. Even your father can see we are at risk.”

Your heart sank. 

“Lisbeth,” you reasoned. “That happened weeks ago. Nothing more has happened–it was likely ruffians passing through. Traders, nothing more.”

“You are mistaken,” she folded her arms. “I heard tell this morning of another attack on a young couple. At a village only a few leagues away.”

“What?”

“It was a farmer’s daughter from Frayley,” she elaborated. “She snuck away in the night to meet with a boy from the village. Her lover was killed, and the girl was ruined. Her honor sullied, barely living.”

Your breath left your chest, a familiar clamminess taking over your hands. 

This story was nothing new; when you were younger, before the new Lord of your county had taken power, such attacks were commonplace. The forests around your village had been infested for a time—small bands of ruffians and criminals who would carry maidens away in the night and burn houses to the ground after looting them. There were several girls in your village who had been abducted and held for ransom, and one who had even been forcibly taken to wife. By the time the Lord of the county had gotten word, they had already been married in the eyes of god. There was nothing to be done. 

It had been something that had enraged your mother. You were too young to worry about such things, but you have vivid memories of the doors being always bolted shut, your mother sleeping with a dagger beneath her pillow. 

The thought of such uncertainty and violence returning to your land made your stomach turn. 

“I see,” you said. 

“Yes,” Lisbeth sighed. “I wish to explore, but not at the risk of our lives and honor.”

You smiled at her sadly and nodded. 

“Two women alone in the wood at night is a recipe for disaster anyway,” she continued. “How I envy men.”

You threw your head back and laughed at that, having had the same thought multiple times.

You wondered often what navigating the world would be like if you weren’t seen as a target simply for your sex. You would ponder what the world would look like if you could walk alone, unaccompanied, how different your life would be if you were able to work, own land, travel alone. If you had the liberties afforded to the likes of William, of Tovar. The very thought of it made your stomach turn with envy.

That’s when it hit you: William. Tovar. And you knew what you had to do.

- - 

When you arrived at Olga’s little stone cottage at the edge of the village, your brow was damp with perspiration. 

The sun was high, well past mid-day, and you knew you had to meet Tovar soon. You would be late, just like you’d planned. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d kept him waiting and you knew that he’d be in a sour mood for the rest of the day–well, sourer than usual–and that was detrimental to your plan. You needed him agreeable if it was to work. 

You sighed as you made your way up the dusty road to her door. 

Olga was someone who you held fondness for. She was an old woman, a widow with white hair and a thick accent. Her husband was a merchant who left her a reasonable sum of money when he died, so she lived comfortably and alone, something you’d never seen a woman do before her. She was from a country from the far South, Aragon, and she had forsaken her homeland for her husband. For love. It all sounded so romantic to you that you almost forgot your own personal objections to marriage. 

You have memories from your younger years of your mother and her exchanging herbal wisdom over tea. She educated your mother on the herbal remedies of her homeland and in exchange,  your mother shared her knowledge of the plants native to your own kingdom.

As you approached her cottage, you heard the faint sound of voices conversing inside made you puzzle. Olga was a generally reclusive woman–it was rare for her to have visitors. 

You approached her door and knocked gently, calling inside. 

“Olga?” You called, hoping your voice would carry through the open window. 

“Ah, yes! Come in, come in,” she called back, voice painted with laughter. 

You nudged open the door and took in the small sitting room in her cottage. On the wooden table in the center there was a clay bowl filled with oranges, no doubt traded from a merchant. Your mouth watered. You knew oranges were commonplace in the South, but here they were a luxury few could afford, including yourself. 

“In here,” Olga’s voice called, louder now, from the adjoining room which served as a kitchen. 

What you saw made you stop in your tracks. 

There, standing in Olga’s well-furnished kitchen, leaning against the worn brick of her stove, stood Tovar, arms folded in front of him, across his face a genuine smile. A smile. It was the first time you saw one cross his face. Your breath left your chest. 

Of course he’d have a gorgeous smile, you thought spitefully. 

You hadn’t realized you were frozen until a warm hand on your shoulder startled you. 

Olga looked at you expectantly, the lines on her face graceful in the early afternoon light. You blinked.

“What?”

“I said, have you met Pero, mi amor?” She smiled at you softly. “He is a blacksmith’s apprentice in town. New.”

You stumble over your words for a moment, tongue like lead in your mouth. 

“Si, Doña.” Tovar–Pero’s–eyes caught yours from across the room. “We are acquainted.”

“Ha!” Olga laughed, throwing her head back. “Doña he calls me. You flatter me, caballero. I am no Doña.”

You smiled at them, shifting on your feet. You knew nothing save a word or two of the strange language they spoke. Castillian, you thought. 

“He speaks to me as if I am a high-born lady, child,” Olga said, sensing your confusion. 

“You are mistaken,” Pero smiled slightly at the older woman. “I know una mujer honrada when I see one, Doña.”

Olga leveled him with a wry smile and held up a finger, wagging it at him. 

“You watch out for this one,” she looked over to you. “He is a charmer.”

You couldn’t help the snort that escaped your lips. Of all the words you would use to describe your surly bodyguard, a charmer was not one of them. Pero shoots you a withering glare at your laugh. 

“What is so humorous?” He tilted his head.

“Forgive me,” you smirked, sensing his wounded pride. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘charmer’ to describe your countenance.”

Olga tilted her head, hands finding her hips. 

“How exactly do the two of you know each other?”

“I am a companion of her cousin’s,” Pero’s gaze moved to the woman in between you. “We have traveled together for… too long. Her family is providing us with lodging until we are able to find work and continue on.”

“Well, a small world indeed,” she smiled. “How have you found our village, then? Quite different than Toledo, no?”

Pero chuckled, shaking his head and looking down. 

“Quite,” he said. “In truth, it has been a long time since I have journeyed home. But compared to other places my trade has brought me, it is not so different. Though I have found the people of this kingdom more skeptical of outsiders than my own homeland.”

The admission surprised you; you had spent months trying to pry any bit of information out of Tovar you could to no avail. And now, with Olga, he was an open book. It made you wonder: was it just you that he had an aversion to sharing with? You bristled at the thought. 

“Yes, it is something to adjust to,” Olga patted Pero on his shoulder. “They are not used to Southerners here. We must stick together.”

Olga turned to you. 

“What brings you here, child? Do you bring me more concoctions from your mother?”

Your smile thinned and you clasped your hands in front of you. 

“No,” you admitted. “It’s my father. I was sent to see if you have any of your lemon-honey tonic left from the cold months. His breathing has gotten worse.”

Olga’s lips pressed together in a sympathetic smile. 

“Of course,” she said. “I keep some reserves in the cellar. I’ll go get them now, and I’ll have another batch brewed specially for him in a fortnight.”

“Oh, please don’t trouble yourself–”

“Hush, it is no trouble at all.” She walked over to you and grabbed your shoulders, her eyes sparkling as she regarded you. “With my Louis gone, there is no one for me to look after. I daresay I have missed it. Besides,” she placed a soft palm on your cheek. “Your family has shown me true kindness in the years I have known you.”

You smiled a tear-filled smile at her. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

“Think nothing of it,” she patted your cheek. “It seems your family has a habit of adopting strays.” 

With a wink, Olga flitted away to the wooden door that led to the cellar, leaving you and Pero standing awkwardly in her kitchen. 

“So,” you began before an awkward silence could settle. “What brings you here?”

“A delivery,” he huffed. “A new lock for her door.”

“I didn’t know Colm has you running deliveries now,” you picked at a fingernail. “I thought the whole point of being an apprentice was to learn.”

Pero rolled his eyes at you, annoyance clouding his features. He leveled you with a glare. 

“I know my way around a forge better than that man,” he hissed at you. 

You smirked. You always knew how to set him off—how to wound his pride just enough that he would lash out. 

“I have been an apprentice since I could walk. I have nothing to learn. It is only an easy way to earn coin.”

“Your father was a blacksmith, then?”

Pero’s eyes narrowed at you before he sighed, seemingly tired of your antics. 

“Yes,” he said. “He taught me his trade before I took up my sword.”

“Hm,” you said. “I always wished I would’ve learned the trade. But no, it was too unladylike for me. My mother forbade it.”

Pero snorted at that. You bristled again and shot him a venomous look. 

“What? You think it silly for a girl to want to learn something other than sewing or weaving?”

“I think it silly that people in your kingdom think that is all a girl is good for,” he countered. “A waste. My father made sure my sisters knew a trade before he died.”

You blinked.

His response surprised you. A sentiment like his was rare, especially in a place like here. But more than that, it was the first time he’d said something remotely kind to you. In your mind, he was a brute, with no compassion or regard for others.

“You have sisters?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. It wasn’t often you could squeeze information out of him; you wanted to see how much you could get before his mood turned sour again. 

“So many questions,” he shook his head. 

“Forgive me for trying to make conversation,” you replied dryly. 

“It does not matter,” he huffed after a moment. “They are gone now.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Olga’s footsteps nearing the kitchen stopped you. 

“Here we go,” she said kindly, handing you a clay jar sealed shut. “This will help. Come back next week for another batch, or come tell me if it gets worse.”

You smiled at her kindness. 

“Thank you, Olga.” You said. “Your kindness will not be forgotten.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“Thank you, Doña, for your hospitality. But I’m afraid we must be going if we are to make it back in time for supper.”

“Of course, of course.” Olga waved her hands, ushering you to the front door. “Be safe. I’ve heard tell of bands of criminals in the woods as of late.”

“We will,” you waved as you left her house, basket in one hand and the tonic for your father in the other. 

“No preocupes, we will be home before dark,” Tovar said over your shoulder from where he walked in front of you. 

He seemed more chipper as he walked down the dirt road, beginning the journey home. You silently thanked the gods for it–you’d need him in a good mood for your plan to work. Even though you knew the deciding factor would come down to William, you still needed Tovar to be there in order for Lisbeth to feel safe enough to journey to Geris. You would be futile in convincing him, you knew; he hated you. But, though he put up a front, you knew that William could convince Pero of anything. 

As the two of you walked home, you silently hoped that your plan would work. 

- - 

“You are out of your mind,” Pero’s eyes were wide as he regarded William, hands on his hips in front of the fire. 

It was well past sundown, and your family had gone to bed already. You hid in the loft, peeking down into the large room below where William stood speaking in hushed tones with Pero.

You’d pulled him aside before dinner with your proposal: to sneak off to Geris in the night for the festival and be back before dawn tomorrow.

You knew he was your best chance. You’d begun to recognize the signs of restlessness in him–the twitching of his fingers, the brainstorming with Pero about where they would go after the harvest ended in the autumn. He and you were alike in that way: always longing for adventure. The only difference was that he actually had the freedom to seek what he longed for. 

Either way, after some badgering, he’d agreed. You always had that effect on him–he couldn’t ever say no to you, even as a child. Besides, you’d already told Lisbeth to meet you after dark in front of your family’s house, with the promise that the two mercenaries would be there to protect you on the road. 

Now, the only one left to convince was Pero. 

“Come, brother.” William reasoned. “We have had nothing but work for weeks. Don’t you fancy a drink in a tavern? A change of scenery?”

“There is a tavern here,” Pero ground out, throwing up his hands. “There is no need to traipse through dark woods in the dead of night for an ale. I have spent my day laboring in front of a hot forge and acting as a sworn sword to your child of a cousin. All I wanted was to come home, fill my belly, and sleep. Now you ask this of me.”

You felt a pang of hurt at the belittlement, and a surge of resentment toward the Spaniard. You were not a child; you hadn’t been for quite some time. You’d practically had to be the man of the house in the months before William arrived, with your mother so preoccupied with your father’s help and Petyr drowning in his cups. That was a responsibility you suspected Pero would never have to shoulder. 

William’s voice called your attention back to the men by the fire. 

Pero had moved, sitting in the wicker chair to the left of the kitchen, sharpening his sword with a whetstone. His eyes looked deadly trained on the blade. William stood with his arms crossed next to him.

“She is a woman grown and you know that,” William said, sighing. “I do not know why you dislike her so. She is a fine young lady.”

“You watch her then.”

“Really, Pero. Why do you let her affect you in such a way? You can face the enemy’s sword without so much as a flinch, but put you in the presence of a maiden and you tremble like a leaf.”

“I do not tremble,” you heard Pero seethe. “She is insolent and foolish, and cannot follow a schedule. I am always late because of her.”

William laughed at that. 

“You are bothered too easily, friend.” 

Pero grumbled in response, eyes still focused on sharpening his longsword. You heard a rustle from outside the opened window and realized with a start—it must be Lisbeth. 

You hurried over to the window and peeked out, catching a glimpse of Lisbeth’s auburn hair in the light of the fire that showed through the downstairs window. She was hidden by a long dark cloak, no doubt belonging to one of her brothers. 

A surge of pride shot through you at the sight of her. You knew she was risking a lot–much more than you–by sneaking off into the night like this. She was of a higher station than you, and would soon be wed to some far flung lord, or even a duke. She risked her reputation being tarnished. And yet, here she was, brave as ever. 

“If you do not agree, you will force my hand,” you heard William’s voice. You hurried back to the loft to spy yet again, knowing that soon you’d have to go fetch your friend who watched from the downstairs window. 

You saw that now, William stood in front of the fire, blocking the line of light Pero needed to sharpen his sword. 

“Move, amigo. I’m not in the mood.”

“And I lament that, but you are coming with us.”

“Us?”

“Yes—”

“I should have known she was behind this. No. If my mind wasn’t made up before, it is now. I will not go with her—”

Your laugh interrupted him, and gave away your hiding place. Pero’s eyes, full of ire, snapped to you. You stood up and raced down the stairs, conscious to not make too much noise, lest you be discovered by your family. 

“Oh, please Tovar,” you said, approaching where he sat. “It will be fun.”

He looked at you with a dry expression. 

“No.”

“But—”

“No.” He gritted his teeth, standing up to come and stand toe-to-toe with you. You flushed at how close he was—you could see every wrinkle, every freckle, every dimension of his scar. It made your throat dry. 

“Why?” You asked, voice packed with as much irritation as his.

“I am driving myself mad escorting you to and from town every day, Señora.” He spat the word, making you blink. “I will not spend another moment more than necessary in your presence. Not unless forced.” 

“I’ll call in my favor, then.” William drawled amusedly from in front of you. 

You started, having forgotten that he was there. You took a step back from his counterpart. 

“Pardon?” Pero turned to William. 

“My favor,” William smirked and tilted his head. “You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing—”

“Remember Vienna, Pero?” William’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already–”

“I’ve forgotten nothing.” Pero’s glare would scare even the fiercest of knights, but William didn’t even look phased by it.

“Then it’s settled,” William clapped his hands together. “We will leave immediately. We’re losing moonlight already.”

“Lisbeth’s in the garden,” you piped up, already pulling your satchel over your shoulder. 

Pero looked like a deer caught in the headlights. William moved to follow you, picking up his sword from where it was leaned against the brick of the fireplace. 

“Lisbeth’s in the garden,” he repeated after you, smiling at his companion, who glared into the side of his head. You giggled. 

“Make haste, Pero,” you called over your shoulder. “Or we’ll miss the festivities.”

Wordlessly, he sheathed his sword and stood, glaring at you. The glare didn’t scare you though. You knew it was one of annoyance—one you often drew from Pero. 

He grumbled to himself before shouldering his sword and following you out the door.

- - 

William had convinced Pero that the horses could handle two riders, with the distance being so small between your village and Geris. Besides, the two mares had gotten little to no excitement since the two mercenaries made their way into your small village. William reasoned it would do them well to stretch their legs. 

So, you were two to a horse each. And since Pero intimidated Lisbeth, you were stuck with him while Lisbeth rode comfortably with your cousin. The two made small-talk as you trotted through the kingsroad by moonlight. You gazed over at their shadowy figures as they talked, Lisbeth sidled up to William comfortably in the saddle behind him. You smirked. She had always thought he was handsome, ever since you were children. She was quite at her leisure. In contrast to you, who was trying to sit as far away from the grumpy man steering the horse in front of you. 

You jostled as the horse trotted over a bump in the road, yelping and grabbing roughly onto Pero’s waist. 

“Alright there?” William called from a few steps away. You nodded a yes. 

“Hold on,” Pero grumbled. “You’ll break your neck, and your mother will have mine.”

You had no quick-witted response to that. If there was anything in this world that could cause an experienced mercenary to tremble in fear, it was your mother. So, you simply tightened your grip around his waist, locking your hands together. He stiffened as you did. 

You hated how comfortable his broad back felt pressed into your front, how his scent overtook you. He smelled of fire, the forge, sandalwood, and leather. It was a far-cry from the rank stench that followed him and William when they arrived.

Lisbeth laughed from her place on the road beside you while William regaled her of stories from his travels. You frowned at the grumpy man in front of you, silent save for the way he mumbled under his breath to the horse  in his mother tongue. 

“Does your horse have a name?” You asked. 

“Hmm?” He grunted, turning his head a bit to face you. 

“The mare. What is her name?”

“Horse,” he replied shortly. 

“Horse?” You asked incredulously. “Her name is horse?”

“She has never needed a name,” he said.

“All animals need names,” you sighed. “All of mine do.”

“Hm,” he hummed, not unkindly. “I suppose I wouldn’t know what to name her even if I desired to.”

You paused and thought for a moment. This was perhaps the most civil conversation you had ever had, and it was about a horse. Still, you were loath to see it end. 

“She is quite fond of the clovers that grow by the barn. I often see her grazing there. What about clover?”

“Clover,” he repeats, turning the words over in his mouth. He hums. “It is better than Horse, I suppose.”

After that, the rest of the ride is filled with comfortable silence save for the sound of the hum of conversation from the couple on horseback beside you. Despite yourself, you smile. Perhaps you and the Spaniard could find middle ground after all. 

- 

The festival was like something from a fairy story. And as you stood there, even Lisbeth, who had grown up surrounded by nobles and visits to court was in wonder at the gaiety of it all. 

As soon as your group had approached the city gates, you could hear the music—upbeat and lilting, with clapping and voices singing accompanying it. Your heart had leapt at the sound.

Dancing. There was little in life you enjoyed more than letting the music take you and spinning away. 

As you took in the city, you didn’t know where to look. There was light everywhere: torches and lamps making the streets seem like they were glowing. You could hear strange languages on the tongues of passersby as you walked, making sure to keep close to your group. The smell of the sea breeze lingered in the air, telling you you were close to the sea. You smiled at it. You’d never seen the ocean, and though you knew you wouldn’t tonight, the smell of it awakened something in you. Above the thatched roofs above your head, you could make out the shadowy figures of the tops of sails—boats, resting in the harbor.

You and Lisbeth followed William and Pero to a stable near the heart of the city, where William payed to have the two mares quartered for the few hours that you planned to be there. 

When you reached what must’ve been the town square, Lisbeth gripped your arm tightly, face beaming as she took in the grandeur of it all.

There were countless stalls set up around the perimeter of the cobbled town-center, tents and poorly-built shacks selling all manner of trinkets and gifts. There were food-stalls, jewelry, flowers, tapestries—too much for you to fully take in. In front of one of the taverns that bordered the town center, there was a group of people, sitting in rickety wooden chairs and stools, playing music. There was an old man with a mandolin, hair graying and beard long, a young woman with a lute, a lumbering man sitting behind them playing a violin with startling precision. 

In the center of the square, countless couples danced in tune with each other. It was a popular dance in your part of the world—an upbeat ballad about a hare and a tortoise, one you’d been dancing at harvest and midsummer festivals since you were a child. 

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. 

“Look!” Lisbeth cried, turning to you, grip still on your arm. “Do you remember when were ten and you had to dance with—”

“Eldon!” You winced, remembering the handsy youth only a few years older than you that you’d been forced to dance with by your mother. There had been a time that she was hopeful for a match between the two of you, but he’d ended up marrying a girl in a neighboring village and moving there to take over her father’s house. You were glad of it; he’d been an unpleasant boy.

“The candle-maker’s son?” William smirked from the other side of Lisbeth. 

“The very same,” you groaned. 

“Oh, he was the most odious boy,” Lisbeth added. 

“Really?” William asked. “I remember him being quite shy, if a bit ill-,mannered.”

“Ill-mannered doesn’t even begin to describe him,” you countered, remembering his wandering hands and leering gaze. “I don’t know if I can remember someone else whose face was so vile.”

“Are we remembering the same boy?” William asked. Beside him, Pero’s eyes scanned the crowd, looking bored with the conversation. “I remember him differently.”

“Because he wanted to be you, cousin,” you smiled at him. “He was positively disgusting.”

“He had a scar that cut across his forehead,” Lisbeth added. “From a riding accident.”

At that, Pero stiffened and his jaw clenched, his eyes finding you as William and Lisbeth continued talking. 

“Yes, that’s the boy,” William nodded. “Was he truly so bad?”

You opened your mouth to respond before being interrupted.

“Ah yes,” Pero snapped, surprising you. The sharpness of this tone was something you were unused to. His lip curled as he addressed you. “Because a scar is truly what makes a man’s character. How unfortunate for you that you had to look upon the face of someone so…what did you say, Senora? Disgusting.”

He spit the word at you like it was poison. You gawked at his tone, at the malice in his voice, before feeling your own ire bubble in your gut. William and Lisbeth stood perplexed between you. 

“He was disgusting,” you countered, taking a step toward Pero. “Because of his untoward behavior and hands that had a habit of wandering up ladies’ skirts. The scar had nothing to do with it. Though how good it is to finally know your opinion of me, Tovar.” 

He just opened his mouth, gaping like a fish, before you grabbed Lisbeth’s hand and began to walk toward the crowd. 

A new, more slow, group number had begun to play, and you and Lisbeth fell in line with the masses enjoying the festival. From behind you, you could faintly hear the sound of William scolding his companion. 

“I see what you mean,” Lisbeth said to you after a moment. 

You looked at her in confusion, before turning into the next step of the dance. 

“He is unpleasant,” she elaborated. “And rude. No matter how handsome he is. I am sorry for ever thinking otherwise.”

You sighed and linked your arm with hers, as the dance called for. 

“It’s alright,” you smiled. “You couldn’t have known.”

She returned your smile and squeezed your arm. 

“I wonder why he is so…”

“So…uncaring? Aloof? Unkind?”

“...melancholy.” She finished, and you started. 

Of all the words you would use to describe Pero Tovar, melancholy was not one of them.

“What?” She asked, noticing your confused look. “You cannot deny he has a sad air about him. Besides, to think someone so cruel as to call a young boy disgusting because of his scar? To think that you could be that cruel? He must have a sad outlook on life indeed.”

You hummed, reflecting on her words.

Lisbeth was right—as she so often was. It hadn’t been a point of view you considered before. Perhaps the reason why Pero’s countenance was so impatient and dreary was because of something else, something out of your control. As soldiers, he and William had seen the worst of mankind. You remembered what he’d said to you earlier that day, about his sisters. It doesn’t matter, they’re all gone. Perhaps there was a reason he didn’t wish to discuss his travels.

You rid all thoughts of the Spaniard from your mind as you finished the dance; you didn’t want your one night of freedom ruined. 

As you and Lisbeth exited the center of the town square, you spotted Pero, sulking and leaning up against a wooden beam that supported the awning to a tavern. You suppressed a smirk at the glowering look on his face. William must have scolded him for speaking to you how he did. 

Good, you thought.

“Pero,” Lisbeth called cheerily once you got close enough. “Where has William got to?”

Pero’s eyes flickered to you for a moment, clouded with something you didn’t understand. He opened his mouth to say something, deep, dark eyes still trained on you, when William’s booming voice interrupted you. 

“Cousin!” He called jovially, four frothing metal cups in his hands. They were overflowing with an amber-colored liquid. 

“That had better not be beer,” you wrinkled your nose, always having hated the grainy-tasting drink. 

“Mead, cousin. Come! Let us make merry while we can,” William looked as if he’d had a drink himself already. “I would beg of you both one dance before the night is through. I cannot bring the most beautiful women in the land to a festival and not demand a dance.”

You rolled your eyes fondly at your cousin’s silver tongue. Beside you, Lisbeth blushed behind her cup. You took your own drink, the metal cool beneath your fingers, and relished in the sweet, honey-flavor of the fermented drink. Mead was a delicacy to you. Your family was rarely rich enough to afford more than ale, and you had long been wary of it, not wanting to fall prey to the cup like your brother. Tonight, though, you drank eagerly. Behind his own cup, Pero’s eyes remained trained on you, full of an emotion you couldn't place. 

- - 

After her dance with William, Lisbeth pulled you aside. 

Her pale cheeks were rosy with exertion and with drink, her breath sweet and smelling of mead. You smiled at her, glad to see your often high-strung best friend relaxed for once. 

She stepped on an uneven stone and lost her footing, stumbling into you with a giggle.

“Oh!” She exclaimed through a laugh, leaning into you. “If my mother could only see me now. She would be aghast.” 

You giggled with her, pushing a stray auburn hair away from her eyes.

“Her high-born lady, absolutely ruined,” you teased. 

“And dancing with a mercenary, can you imagine?” 

“What ever shall we do with you?”

Lisbeth just laughed. It was a deep laugh, coming from her belly. One you didn’t hear often. Once she caught her breath, Lisbeth sighed, resting her head on your shoulder. The two of you watched as the people danced in the square, content.

“Thank you,” she mumbled after a moment. “I have had a wonderful time. I am glad to have had at least one night like this before—”

Lisbeth stopped herself, clamping her lips shut. You paused. 

“Before what?” You asked. 

Lisbeth pulled away from you, wringing her hands together in front of her, gaze trained on the cobblestones below your feet. 

“Before what, Lisbeth?” You asked again.

When she looked up at you, her eyes were teary. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth before she spoke. 

“I am to be wed,” she said, voice warbling. “Before midsummer. My father just told me this morning.”

“What?” you asked, all breath leaving your chest. 

“I wanted to tell you right away,” she said, a tear streaming down her face now. “But when I tried, I just couldn’t. Then, I wanted to enjoy tonight. I thought if I’m to move away and become a wife, I’ll at least have tonight.”

You blinked, processing what exactly this meant. 

Of course, she’s to be married, you thought. It was strange enough that she wasn’t betrothed at the age of ten and nine. Her father had finally made his decision. She was a lady of high station, the daughter of a Lord—this was her duty. One she was excited for, even. She had always wanted to be the mistress of her own house. You should be happy for her. 

So why did you feel so sad?

“Who,” you croaked, before clearing your throat. “Who is he?”

Lisbeth smiled weakly. 

“A Lord,” she said, laughing a little. “He lives a two-days ride to the North. My father says he is kind.”

“Have you met him?” You asked.

“Once,” she smiled. “But I was little more than a girl, and I barely remember.”

“Will you have time to…be acquainted before…”

Before the wedding. The words hang in the air between you. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “He will come visit in a fortnight.”

You nodded dumbly, realizing the reality that faced you: your best friend would be leaving you to begin her life, and you would be left behind. The thought brought tears to your eyes. 

“And he’s not…old, is he?”

It had long been one of Lisbeth’s fears that her father would wed her to a man too many years her senior—an old, country lord who she could never grow to love. If she was to be sold off like a broodmare to a man old enough to be her grandsire, you didn’t think you could stand it. 

“No,” she smiled shakily. “He is young—only nine years my senior.”

You breathed a sigh of relief at that. Little mercies. You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, willing the moisture to leave your eyes. You would not cry in front of her. 

“And, are you happy with the arrangement?”

Lisbeth considered it a moment. 

“I am… relieved he is not old. It is too soon to tell without actually meeting him, but I trust my father’s judgment. I am his only daughter. I do not believe he would part with me for someone unworthy.”

You smiled at your best friend–your ever constant, loyal companion. Her auburn hair shone around her head in the yellow light of the evening. Her eyes shone with hope. She was ready for this, you knew it. You ignored the pang of melancholy in your stomach and squeezed her arms. For now, you would be happy for her. You would save your tears for later. 

“No, I daresay he wouldn’t.”

 You pulled her into a hug. She sighed against you. 

“You shall be at my wedding,” she declared once she pulled back. “I will refuse to be wed without you.”

You laughed at her. 

“Me, surrounded by lords and ladies,” you snorted at the idea.

“Hush,” she smacked your arm. “We are not so different from you lot. Besides, I much prefer your company to theirs any day.”

You smiled at her, linking your arm with hers as you ventured into the square to find your companions. 

“Come, let us enjoy the rest of the night,” you said. 

“Let us,” she replied jovially. 

As the two of you continued on, you ignored the pit in your stomach at the idea of Lisbeth’s impending nuptials. 

- -

Your group departed with hours left until sunrise—plenty of time to return to your beds without your families noticing. 

The hopeless feeling that struck you at the revelation of Lisbeth’s engagement stuck with you, though, even after you bridled your horses and began your trek home. 

Beside you, William hummed a tune while Lisbeth dozed off behind him. Your arms were loosely wrapped around Pero’s waist as he rode silently. The two of you still hadn’t exchanged a word since the tense encounter in Geris’s town square. Still, you hadn’t been on the receiving end of any of his glares for the rest of the evening. 

You pondered what your life would look like after Lisbeth left. You couldn’t help it. For as long as you could remember, it was you and her. Your mother has acted as midwife in Lisbeth’s birth, and ever since, her mother had been a loyal patron of your mother’s herbal remedies. You and her had been friends since infancy. And now, she was leaving. Entering and finding her place in the wide, expansive world. And you were going to be stuck where you’d always been: caring after your ailing father and serving as a punching bag for your drunken brother. 

The thought of Lisbeth’s absence from your life made your eyes fill with tears, and before you knew it, they were streaming down your cheeks. 

You turned your head away from William, knowing if he saw you cry, he’d make a fuss. You took a few shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself, but failed. Before you knew it, you were shaking with tears against Pero’s back. 

You knew he could feel your sobs, but couldn’t find it in you to care. He was going to judge you no matter what you did—he’d made that much clear tonight. You might as well let yourself weep. 

After a moment, though, he surprised you. You heard Pero breathe your name, so quietly you scarcely heard it. 

You sniffled, trying to cover the sounds of your tears. You mumbled an apology, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. But instead of pestering or making fun of you, Pero only hummed in acknowledgement, before wrapping a rough palm around your own and squeezing. 

His hand remained wrapped in yours the rest of the way home, a silent show of support. It baffled you, but you didn’t have time to even begin to question it. Instead, you just let yourself cry, leaning against the Spaniard for support. The rest could wait til the morning.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar x reader #pero x reader #pero tovar fic #the great wall fanfic #the great wall fanfiction #pero tovar x y/n

[prolix-yuy]

ok bangathon request

gentle romantic after argument sex missionary.

im so boring but there it is

There's nothing boring about missionary! And with one of my favorite couples, it's sure to be much more than that too...

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Position: Missionary

Word Count: 900

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, PiV sex, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), creampie, discussions on infertility, Pero being a dumbass but he makes up for it.

Notes: A continuation of the Pero Tovar and his Guerrera series.

Many would say that Pero has little tact with women. He’s brutish in all ways a man can be, and that must extend to the people he lets into his bed. Anyone who’s seen him with his Guerrera would only think it proof of their opinions. The way they snarl and scratch at each other, their constant biting remarks, the sheer amount of eye-rolling as they listen, all point to Pero being impossible to deal with.

They’re only partly right.

Most days the barbs are playful, their conversation scalding because they can both handle the heat. Pero could not imagine a partner that’s soft and simpering to him. He loves her sharpness and how quickly she will join him in a debate. 

Sometimes, however, he does take it a step too far.

When he enters their bedroom tonight, he’s soft of foot and quiet. The door snicks shut behind him, his clothing removed and laid out of sight. You’re turned to the wall, coldly ignoring him preparing for bed. 

Get your hands off me.

Oh don’t be so dramatic, Pero. 

Then do not go about flailing your sword at every moment.

So five men against you is fair odds?

I am - just go and do…whatever it is you do.

What do you think I’d be doing if I wasn’t saving your skin?

Being a real woman somewhere far from here.

Pero knew he’d hit something far more painful than he intended when you were silent, the easy smile falling from your face. What he didn’t expect were the tears that bubbled to the surface, ones you hotly scrubbed from your face.

Of course, because a real woman will tend your home and have your babies.

Pero’s stomach drops at the memory, knowing how he pulled something so fresh and painful to the surface over a tavern brawl. How after his seed didn’t take one drunken night you told him it never would. That you could never be with child, and how you’d come to accept it. Pero had felt the twin pains of sadness and relief, knowing that this life was not for a child but still mourning the loss. He told you it did not change the color of his love one bit, but in his petulance he used it as a weapon against you.

The bed sinks under his weight as he sits on the edge, watching you curl into yourself. Pero sighs, words failing him as they always do.

“Mi vida,” he says, stroking his fingertips along the back of your shoulder. To his surprise you turn to your back, eyes puffy and tired, but the anger he expected drained from your bones. His hand slides to your hip, stroking his thumb into the flesh. His eyes meet yours, and a subtle nod urges him under the furs. Clamoring between your legs, he settles on his elbows over you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, searching your face for anything you’ll give. Another pause, this one aided by your hand on his cheek, before you give him another small nod. Pero leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“You are my life,” he murmurs, your legs wrapping around his hips as he presses you into the mattress. 

“I know,” you say, placing a kiss of your own on his plush lips.

Words dissolve on your tongues as Pero shows his remorse better than he can say. Between the long devotions of lips, he lifts your legs higher to press into you, sheathing his cock inside. The roll of his hips is slow and languid, sometimes forgotten altogether in favor of returning to kiss you more. He cups your head and nips along your jaw, lets his thumb trace your nipple to a gentle peak. When you start to pant with his motions he teases you with the tips of his fingers, finding the place that clenches you around him. He doesn’t care to cum, he just wants to be as close to you, as deep within you as you’ll take him.

Your first peak flutters his lashes, nails biting into his back as he grinds you through your high. He follows that with a second, quieter one that shakes you in his arms. Your final one comes when you nod at him to chase his release, the slap of skin on skin and hushed confessions drowned out by the roar of his spend painting your walls.

When he comes down enough to curl you into his body, he finally finds the words.

“You are every part the woman I want, and need,” he says, tangled up with limbs and feelings he’s trying out for the first time. “You are everything.”

“Thank you, Pero,” you say, pulling back to rest your head on the pillow beside him. “And if you ever say otherwise I’ll take the only part of you that can continue your lineage.”

“I would be so lucky to lose them to you,” he rasps, the tremble of your giggle easing his mind. He stays inside you until he softens enough to slip out, and even then he considers plugging you up with his fingers to keep his seed inside. It’s a dream he will never speak to you, not willing to hurt you so deeply again, but he’s willing to nurse it. He’s seen greater miracles, after all.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x you #pero x reader #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar and his guerrera #pero tovar x female reader

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - Epilogue

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.  

Rating: Mature, but as always this blog is 18+ Word Count: 7.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).**  Apologies for the possibly dubious Spanish in this chapter, and a little suggestive dialogue up front, but no other warnings. Summary: The first people you and Pero meet in Spain come bearing remarkable and unexpected surprises. Notes: Immense thanks to all of you for following along with this little trip through time. It has been such immense fun to explore in two universes at once, and so gratifying to build a family that very literally stands the test of time. Every time we embark on a new story we take a chance by stepping into the unknown, and every time it’s wonderous to see how lovingly you all respond. 🧡💛✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

Nine months was honestly less time than you thought it would take to get everything ready to move, especially with Beth and Will’s wedding planning underway. But their wedding was now an entire month ago, and you have unpacked every box in the ‘new’ Tovar farmhouse which is still well over a hundred years old. All of the amenities and utilities are up to date and the contractors had done an amazing job redoing the kitchen prior to your arrival, and Pero’s adventure in building permits and historical society red tape have led to some interesting situations in restoring the thousand-year-old farmhouse that he was born in.

First thing every morning - all four of them that you have been here for - he goes out to the old farmhouse and works from after breakfast until sundown clearing out all the many years’ worth of muck and build up in the place. It had been a barn for centuries, apparently, and then a storage shed, and there are stacks of things inside that require going through before Pero can start in on replacing the roof with an approved, historically-correct thatched one like it had when his parents lived there.

You have been setting up the main house room by room, with the bedroom and the bathrooms coming first, and today you’re tackling the kitchen. The fact that everything is unpacked just means you have towering piles of things on the countertops to find homes for, but you turn on the radio to a local station and get to work. If all goes well, you’ll have things put away and be able to make it into town for groceries to make Pero an actual home cooked dinner for the first time in your new home.

Pero opens the door to the kitchen, sweating and already in search of a drink. Stripping off the thick leather gloves, he walks directly to the refrigerator that he loves and opens the door to grab the carafe of cold water you have taken to keeping in there for him. “It is nearly cleaned out.” He grunts, looking around for a glass. You scolded him when he drank directly from the bottle, so he doesn’t do that anymore.

“Glasses are in the cabinet right next to the fridge,” you tell him, busy on the other side of the kitchen figuring out how to make all of your cookware fit in the open-air shelving. “That was fast, amor. Was it not as bad as we thought?”

“No, it’s bad.” Pero finds a glass and pours it full. Gulping down the liquid in great gulps that seem to echo in the still empty kitchen. “I will have to dig out the flooring— if it’s still there.”

“But the clutter will be out soon, which will be good.” Years of Tetris come in handy when trying to organize cabinets, and you slide the last pot into place before setting your cauldron on the shelf beneath it. The big, cast-iron pot was a gift from Pero and you have every intention of bringing magic back to this home as soon as possible.

“Disgusting.” Pero murmurs, a scowl on his face as he pours a smaller glass. “Using it as a fucking storage building.”

“It will be restored again soon.” You don’t care about sweat or warmth – Valencia’s summers are definitely warm – you wipe your hands and move across the room to hug him. “Your parents would be proud.”

“I hope so.” The area where his mamá had been buried was long since grown over, the plain markers gone. But Pero had cleaned the area up and has plans on marking it with a stone to remember his parents by.

“I’m sure of it.” You would certainly be proud if it was your son returning home after a thousand years to return his homestead to what it once was - you cannot imagine his own mamá is anything less as she looks down on him. “Do you want to walk down to the church later to light a candle for your parents?” According to what you had read, the current stone church in the village was built on the same foundation of the ancient one after it was destroyed sometime in the late Middle Ages, which means it won’t be the same church he was baptized in, but it’s in the same place. “It would be nice to make friends with the priest and see if he will let us look through the old records for your family.”

“Sí.” He knows they have caused a stir, returning and buying the land. But he doesn’t know if any from Arwena and Briac’s brood survived past bearing children or what became of them. It would be good to learn.

“In the meantime…” You give him a concerned look. “Is there anything I can do to help you? I don’t have to do the kitchen today. I can help you in the farmhouse if you want.” Bowie has been at his side all morning, but he isn’t much help with cleaning.

“You do not want to shovel shit and mud out from the house.” Pero shakes his head. “I appreciate it, amor.”

“I would do it if you asked me.” You would do anything he asked you. Even clean through shit and mud. “It’s not like I have a job to go to. I’m at your disposal.” Quitting that god awful office job had been so freeing that you had actually cried. Pure relief at being free to do whatever brought you joy has been a very odd feeling to adjust to.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You do have a job, amor.” He corrects you. “Tinkering with your herbs and setting up your kitchen. That is your job today. Just like mine is going to be making you cum on that countertop when it is clear.”

“I think being a lady of leisure might suit me.” If a life of tinkering and witchcraft and sex is what it has in store? Yes, please.

Pero smirks, more of a leer as he winks at you. “Happy to provide your deepest wishes, amor.” He promises before he sets the glass in the sink. He still hasn’t gotten the hang of a dishwasher and is scared of breaking the delicate glasses in this time.

“You’ve been doing that since the very beginning, amor.” Leaning across the counter to kiss him again, you huff playfully when the knocker on the front door can be heard loud and clear. “Who could that be?” Whoever they are, they’ll be the first people you’ve met since getting here besides the previous owners of the small farm and your contractor.

“I don’t know.” Pero tenses, his hands automatically reaching for the knife that is always on his body unless he is naked with you. He has relaxed quite a bit since coming to this time, but he’s not sure if he will ever not be on guard when surprised. “Do you wish for me to open the door?”

“I’ll get it. Don’t worry.” Any gossip that’s gotten around will say that the newcomers are from America, so you figure you might as well give the people what they’re so curious about.

Pero moves with you, not trusting anyone who calls unannounced so he will be a hulking shadow behind you. A warning to not try anything with his soulmate.

Neither of you is expecting the heart attack that is waiting for you on your doorstep. At the end of the stone path lined by flowers that leads to your little house, right at your front door when you pull it open, stands a cheerful young couple with a covered platter in their hands and curious smiles on their faces. But more remarkable than anything else is the young woman...who is the spitting image of Arwena Tovar. It's all you can do not to exclaim when you open the door, realizing it isn't actually her only by her height - she is a full six inches taller than Arwena, if your memory of the petite girl serves correctly. "I—um—" Shake it off, you tell yourself, realizing you're staring. "Hola." When you can finally get a single word out, more mercifully following. "Qué tal?" Hi. How are you?

Instantly, Pero knows this woman is related to your family. “Mierda.” He whispers, making the stranger’s eyes flicker to him before she offers a friendly smile.

Alana Tovar nods politely. “Buenos días. Queríamos darle la bienvenida a nuestro humilde barrio.” Good day. We wanted to welcome you to our humble neighborhood. If she is shocked to see an American – she can tell by the accent – she doesn’t show it.

"Gracias, gracias..." You feel like you can barely keep your eyes in your head, but you step back and wave the young couple inside as politely and happily as you can. "Entrasteis, por favor. Vos gustaríais una bebida?" Come inside, please. Would you like a drink?

Alana turns to Jorge and nods when he gives a small nod himself. “Sí.” She murmurs before she offers the platter in her hand to you. “Para usted.” For you.

"We speak English." The gangly young man who steps in after the woman offers you and Pero a lopsided smile. Through his thick accent, he sounds almost like sunshine. Chipper, yes, but also warm.

“Then we will speak English.” Pero murmurs, introducing you first. “My wife, and I am Pero Tovar.” He waves them both towards the chairs you had insisted needed to be in the kitchen and starts clearing off the space in front of them.

“Tovar?” The young woman seems to move as gently as a tree bending in the wind. Clutching the platter still in her hands, she stops halfway to the seat she is being offered and sways on the spot. “I am Alana Tovar.” She introduces herself, obviously surprised by the shared name. “This is my partner, Jorge Reyes. We live just across the street.”

Pero nods, already knowing that she must be related due to her looking so much like her ancestor. “Are you from this area?” He asks, looking over at her curiously. It’s amazing the small differences now that she’s closer, but she could be Arwena’s sister.

“Sí.” Alana nods as Jorge takes the platter from her hands and sets it down on the counter. “My family has always lived here. Please…this is for you. A coca de llanda with orange. It is a family recipe…you would call it a kind of cake, I think?”

Just from the name of the cake, Pero’s eyes light up. “It sounds delicious.” Pero tells her immediately. “We must have some. With our drinks. Tea, or coffee?” Coffee has become a beloved drink for Pero despite your love of tea, so there is always both. “We do have ale, too.”

"It is best with coffee." Jorge chimes in, rubbing Alana's shoulders in an act of both pride and encouragement. The young man eyes your Nespresso machine happily, seeing that it is already set up on the counter while you reach into the cabinet above it to retrieve a few cups and plates. "We are curious," he begins, almost like he's unsure if he should ask. "We heard that the people buying the farm were family. But Alana did not know she had any family in the United States."

"Until recently, I did not know I had any family in Spain," you explain, wondering exactly how to tiptoe around the topic. "Of course, my husband was born here."

Pero is ready for the questions, feeling the eyes shift to him. “My family moved around quite a bit when I was younger.” He tells them as if his parents weren’t buried in this very earth less than three hundred yards away. “I have heard stories of family but never met anyone.”

"You are...both Tovars?" Alana has set about cutting slices of the delicious looking cake after you pulled out a knife and forks to go with the plates, but pauses to look between you and Pero.

"Sort of?" Setting up a little assembly line at the Nespresso machine, you start to make drinks for everyone. "We are both descended from the Tovar clan very distantly. Many generations back, we each branched off from the main family tree. I was not born a Tovar at all."

Pero chuckles, wondering what they would say if they knew he was the patriarch of the family and yet not related by blood at all. You are— but that is a different story. “We did not know of the connection when we met.” He explains. “We were just…almas gemelas.” Soulmates.

“So are we.” Jorge boasts, placing his hands on Alana’s shoulders again and puffing up his chest proudly. “I knew the second I saw her. Like…like a fairy tale, no?”

“It is.” Pero grins at you, well aware that your story could be a movie thing that you love making him watch. “The Sassenach and the Spaniard.” He teases, reaching out and squeezing your hip.

"Sassenach?" Alana asks, recognizing the word from her favourite American television show but not knowing why he has said it.

Pero rolls his eyes over to you, smirking. “It means outsider.” He explains. “She called herself that when we met. After insulting me and sparking my interest with her witch’s tongue.”

"He also calls me bruja," you volunteer, laughing about it slightly as you pass out demi cups of espresso. A part of you is curious about just how many witches are even in your family line, but you pass it off as a joke for now. There's no use in raising alarm bells with your neighbors and far-flung cousin right off the bat.

Alana nods knowingly. “If you are a Tovar, that is a part of your charm.” She chuckles. “We come from a long line of brujas, though most of the knowledge is lost.”

"Are you—?" Not expecting her to be so forthcoming, you must look as shocked as you are excited. "Do you...practice magic?"

Jorge’s smile turns a little defensive, a move Pero recognizes instantly. He is not magical, but he is protective of his soulmate. He understands it, even today there is a stigma.

“I have managed to—”

“Cielo.” Jorge whispers, shaking his head warily. You are strangers after all, even if you are distantly related.

"It's okay." You promise him, realizing that there are plenty of people in the world who would judge Alana for the gift she has inherited. From under your shirt, you pull a necklace that bears a pendant with the symbol of the triple goddess stamped in pewter and show it to the younger couple. "I have practiced for a very long time." That is an odd sort of understatement. "You have nothing to fear from us, I promise."

Alana reaches over and lays her hand on top of Jorge’s. “I have a feeling about them.” She promises her soulmate, giving him a look that said more than what her words could.

“We both practice.” Pero offers, although he does not wear the pendant you do. “What is a soulmate bond if not magic? Anyone who will judge for having more is simply stupid.”

"Actually, I have something you might be interested in." Glancing back at Pero, he gives you a nod before stepping aside, knowing what you intend to show this new girl. She reminds the two of you so much of Arwena that he understands your eagerness to share with her, even if he would probably be more guarded by himself. "Not all of our family's knowledge has been lost. And my Spanish is not good enough to be able to read everything in this book. Pero has read through things with me, but you might, well..." You shrug, producing a large box from the cabinet beneath the open shelves where you had been storing cookware not twenty minutes ago. "This belonged to my grandmother, and she left it to me."

The gasp Alana let’s is overshadowed by the sound of breaking porcelain. “Mierda!” She hisses, jumping up from where she had dropped her coffee cup and shattered it on the ground. “I am so sorry! perdóname!” Forgive me!

"Está bien. Calmate." It's okay. Take it easy. Though you hadn't necessarily expected that big of a reaction, you can absolutely understand it. Pero jumps forward to clean up the broken cup and you put your hand on Alana's arm in reassurance. "I do not believe in coincidences anymore," you tell her and Jorge honestly. "Everything that has happened in my life has happened for a reason. So perhaps one of the reasons I have this is to be able to share it with you."

“I have—that book.” Alana is emotional and nearly tearing up. “I have heard stories about the book my entire life.” She explains. “My mother told me that the book was not shared anymore because one side of the family traveled away. But that it would come home someday.”

"I looked into my ancestry." The grimoire is heavy and delicate, but you lift it from the box and set it on the clear counter with care. "My branch of the family left Spain hundreds of years ago and has traveled extensively. So there is more than just English and Spanish written here, but...it is all our family."

“You did not keep the Tovar name?” She asks, curious as to how your ancestors worked. “On my side, there is a tradition if it was the last daughter, the soulmate would take the name Tovar.” She tilts her head. “Although your family kept the tradition of naming a girl after the original soulmates.” She hums turning Pero. “As did your parents. There is a generation of boys and girls with your names in our family for as long as I can remember. I was upset as a little girl that my sister had your name.” She gives a quiet laugh and shrugs. “But Alana suits me.”

“A—a tradition?” Trying not to seem overly gobsmacked, you can’t help the wonder in your eyes as you reach for Pero’s hand and hold on tight. “I had no idea…” How could you be so entirely clueless as to these traditions and yet be at the very center of them? There are swaths of boys and girls in your family named after you and Pero and yet you had no clue. “My mother kept me entirely separate from our family. She…she believes magic is dangerous. But I think it is a miracle.”

“She must have believed at some point.” Alana’s heart hurts at the idea of being kept separate from her family and she reaches out to clasp your hand over the cover of the grimoire. “Otherwise you would not bear our ancestor’s name. The stories say she was a powerful bruja. Her and her soulmate.” She bites her lip. “I have the history of our family, the ones who stayed in Spain – if you would like to see it.”

“Oh yes.” Nodding immediately, you place your other hand on hers and squeeze gently. Reassuringly. “We would love to see that. A-and…to hear the stories? If you know them?”

Jorge chuckles, making Alana fluster. “My soulmate loves collecting stories about the family.” He promises, reaching over and rubbing her shoulder affectionately. “She will talk about it all day.”

“We would love to hear them,” you promise her, water rising slightly behind your eyes as you look up at Pero. To think that Arwena and Briac founded an entire family line – a proud one that still exists in multiple forms to this day – is both mind boggling and somehow unsurprising. As if their love had reached through time and twined your family together all on its own. “Any time you would like to come over and look through the book and tell stories. Please…we are family.”

“I was curious and happy when I leaned a Tovar had purchased the property.” Alana admits with a smile. “We had wished we had been able to afford it, but this better.”

“We were meant to be brought together; I think.” She truly looks so much like Arwena that you just want to reach out and hug her, but that intimacy must be built first. Something tells you it will not take long, but it is still best to give it time. “I will make another coffee and we can sit together? Share stories? The grimoire has many of them. And perhaps if we sit long enough our cat will come out of hiding to say hello.”

“Cat?” Alana perks up and smiles. “Have you found another one? There are so many running around the properties.”

“We found a few living in the old farmhouse.” It had not thrilled Pero at the time, but a stray black cat is a thing close to your heart so he had just huffed and shooed them out - only to put water and food out for them by your back door later on. “We also brought our cat from the US. Bowie is around here somewhere.” Probably mousing, as he has already discovered plenty of prey to chase. Or else exploring his new home.

“We have always found black cats around the property. My abuela said that the familiar of your namesake became her daughter’s and they are all descendant from her. Binx.” Alana chuckles. “My own cat is named Binx.”

“They’re all from Binx?” The few seconds you take to steady yourself while reaching for a new cup and saucer from the cupboard isn’t nearly enough, but it allows you to share a loaded glance with Pero. “The original soulmates…” you ask when you turn back around. “Do the stories say what powers they had?”

“She had the power of fire, healing.” Alana smiles dreamily. “She saved Pero’s life. He was a warrior and fiercely protective over his bruja when he learned who she was to him.” It’s a story that is often told at family gatherings like weddings, so she is very familiar with her favorite love story. “He was different. He had no magic before her, but he learned. He could move things through the air. And—” She gives a small laugh. “You will say it is crazy, but the legend says they could travel through time.”

“Oh my god…” This time it’s you who drops the dainty cup from your hand, but it clatters onto the counter with no harm done as you reach for Pero beside you.

“Did you— have you heard a version of this?” She asks excitedly, leaning forward with hope shining in her eyes. “Isn’t it romantic? The story my abuela told me was that Pero learned magic so he could follow her. She was sick – unable to be healed and went to a time where she could be saved and he followed when he learned how.” She sighs softly and reaches for Jorge’s hand. “The story is told every time someone gets married in our family.”

“Every time?” You look up at Pero in wonder, wrapping your arms around him before looking back at Alana. “Do the stories say what time she traveled to? By any chance?”

Pero crushes you to him, overwhelmed by the realization that the two of you have been immortalized into this family’s legends. Stories are told to little ones, much like he had been told as a child. His breath catches and he blinks several times, his eyes wet. The two of you may have never had children together, but you are the matriarch of generations.

“That part gets complex.” Alana huffs. “No one can decide. Some say they lived in the 20’s but I believe they must have still be yet to come. How else would she be able to be saved if not for modern or future medicine?”

“I suppose it depends on what she was sick with.” The way you and Pero are holding on to each other is like you’re clinging to a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean. “But that is…it’s not so unbelievable, is it? If magic is real, then surely anything is possible?”

Alana contemplates that and nods. “You are right. I wish I could know what it was like, what they were like. It must have been amazing.”

“I think it must have been very scary.” Terrifying, in fact, but you don’t know how these two sweet young people would react to knowing that it’s you they have been hearing about for so long. “Imagine being stuck out of your own time like that.”

“So you think that it is true? That she was a time traveler?” Alana smiles happily, having been met with disbelief if she talked about it with people outside the family. “Then if he followed her, he would be outside of his own time.”

“Yes…he would.” You look up at Pero again and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “And think how happy he would be to come home again.”

It takes her a moment. A long pause as Alana thinks about your words before there is a small, but poignant inhale from the younger woman. Her eyes are bright and shiny, and she nods knowingly. “Yes, I think that it is beautiful.”

“It would be nice if it could happen.” Jorge concedes, shifting in his seat beside his soulmate. He sees the happiness in her eyes but knows how attached to the love story of her ancestors she is. “But I would be overwhelmed, I think, if I were him. A whole modern world? Qué terrible.” How terrible.

“It is not that bad.” Pero huffs under his breath. “This time has indoor plumbing and ice cream.”

It takes a second, but Jorge’s eyes slowly move up to Pero’s in shock. “You mean…?” He croaks, fingers digging into Alana’s shoulders. “Dios mio, it’s true?”

The cat seems to be out of the bag, so Pero sees no harm in admitting it. He turns towards you, his frown would seem harsh if it weren’t for the softness in his eyes. “I would have torn time apart to be with my bruja again.”

“Te amo.” The words are soft in spite of your fierce pride in him, and you angle your chin up to kiss him before turning back to Alana and Jorge. “If you require proof, I understand.” Honestly, it would be insane for them not to. “The box on the end of the counter? That is my handwriting on the outside. Compare it to the first dozen-ish pages of the grimoire.”

“It is—” Alana nearly leaps off her seat at the counter to compare the writing. Not because she doesn’t believe you, but because she wants to.

Jorge is half a breath behind her, dragging over the box bearing your list of items inside written neatly on one of the flaps. It was how you kept organized during packing. “It is identical…”

Pero hums, knowing that they will want to see proof that he is who he says he is, so he turns and walks out of the kitchen, making his way to the safe that contains the clothes that you and he arrived in this time in.

“It’s true that he saved my life.” You tell the younger couple as Pero makes his way to the basement to retrieve his proof. “When I arrived at the hospital in this time, the doctors said another day or two might have been too long.”

“Is it true that he could not come with you? That he had to learn magic to follow you here?” Completely enthralled, Alana has a million questions for you. “I— this is rude, no? Asking you this? You do not have to answer if you wish.”

"It's okay." It's actually a relief, in some odd way. To meet family that you can share this part of your life with. To be connected to Arwena and Briac again, even a thousand years apart. "You can ask. If I'm able to answer, I will." The slices of cake and cups of coffee sitting on the counter have been neglected but you pick up your fork, deciding that food and drink makes everything a little more palatable. Socially, at least. "Yes, it's true that he had to learn magic to follow me. He spent a year learning before he traveled back to the Stones to follow me through history."

“Oh my god, it’s true.” Alana squeals, clearly overjoyed to learn that the stories that she had heard growing up were true. “I— how long has he been here? How long were you there?”

"I was there for eight years." Your first bite of Alana's torta is shatteringly good, and you muffle a groan while you chew. If this is a family recipe, you want to go back to whoever made it first and thank them personally. "He's been here for...almost a year now. Alana, this torta is amazing."

She beams, smiling happily under your praise and picking up the newly made coffee to take the first sip. “I will have to give you the recipe, unless you created it too?”

"No, your baking is far better than mine." Although you will definitely do your best to replicate this one. It's sensational. "Sugar still hadn't come to Europe then. Pero's discovery of sugar and chocolate has been a lot of fun for him."

“It is the best.” He groans as he comes into the kitchen again, the clothes and armor on his body rather than just showing them. “But I am getting fat.” There had been a snugness to his armor that wasn’t there before.

"I have a feeling that fixing up the old farmhouse will be plenty of exercise." Still, you can't help but smile at the sight of him in his armour. The lopsided expression on your face is both fond and soft. "There's my mercenary."

Pero turns towards the couple and sees their eyes widen. “This is what I am used to wearing. Spending my days on a horse and fighting for coins.”

"Increíble..." Jorge stands from his seat, jaw nearly on the ground as he gravitates closer to Pero with an eye toward inspecting his armor. "Like you just stepped out of a movie..."

“Movie. Yes, I know what that is.” Pero nods, nodding towards the man to let him touch the armor. “This is real, that – the strategy is shit in those movies. No one risks their ass like they show in them.”

"That's how he looked when he dropped off his horse onto my doorstep, near dead with tuberculosis." You tell Alana, shaking your head with the kind of fondness that only time and distance can give a memory. "We saved each other. First him, and then me."

“How did he save you?” Jorge questions, looking up from the armor before he rolls his eyes at himself. “Of course. He sent you back. How did he do that without magic? How did you travel through time?” That has been his burning question whenever Alana would talk about it.

"This is going to sound ludicrous." Telling the story from the outside really does feel a bit crazy, but you shrug slightly when Alana and Jorge both look at you expectantly. "But have you ever seen the show Outlander? Or read the books?"

“Don’t—” Alana gasps, covering her mouth and shaking her head in disbelief. “Do not tell me that is real!” She all but squeaks out her comment and Jorge laughs.

“She loves Outlander.” He confides. “Thinks the Jamey guy is…hot.”

"Last October I went to Inverness with my best friend to see the Stones at Craigh na Dun." You can't help but laugh, realizing in retrospect how silly the whole thing sounds. "I was gone for eight years, but to my friend it was only a few minutes."

“A few minutes…” Jorge shakes his head. Alana looks just as dumbfounded. “This is amazing.”

"And I will never regret it, because it led me to Pero." His hand reaches for yours at the same time you put your hand out to him and you link your fingers together tightly. "But I cannot safely say that anyone should ever try to travel through the Stones. You have no idea when you will arrive in time and when you get to wherever it is you are sent, you could be in immediate and very grave danger. It is...more than I bargained for. I'm just lucky that it turned out well for me."

“If it is not too rude…” Alana twists her hands together. “Is that why— your scar. Did you have it before you went back?” She asks, wondering if it’s a sensitive topic for you. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

"I got it while I was there." You nod slightly, fingers tangled in Pero's tightening slightly. "Before I met Pero. There was...a man that thought he could take advantage of me. He was very wrong."

“Bastard.” One thousand years dead and it still would not be enough for Pero. If he could be certain where the man’s grave was, he would piss on it. “My bruja managed to defend herself, and give me a scar that made me even more fearsome on the battlefield.” He sounds proud because he is proud of you.

"An example of why I would never recommend that anyone travel through the Stones." Beyond the scar and the loss of sight aside, the assault that you had endured was reason enough to caution anyone and everyone against putting themselves in that position. "Best to stay safe, well-fed, and cared for on this side of the timeline."

“I am so sorry.” Alana murmurs, looking horrified by the idea that someone would hurt you. “Hopefully he got his just rewards.”

“He got what he deserved.” You nod solemnly, looking back to Pero. “My husband made sure of that.”

There is a moment where Alana and Jorge just stare at Pero, in awe of what he must have done to put the terrifying look of grim satisfaction on his face. Alana ducks her head. “I am sorry for bringing up painful memories. My – curiosidad – it gets the best of me.”

“Things are better now.” You put one hand softly on Alana’s shoulder and offer her a smile. “To be able to return here, and to see what our family has become? That is worth everything.”

Jorge frowns. “Wait…if you were only there for eight years…did you leave your children behind?” He asks, confused about how they can be Tovars and still have created this legacy in such a short time.

“Your ancestors are a young couple named Arwena and Briac.” If Alana knows so much family history, she may already know this, but you tell her anyway. “They were soulmates, and Wena’s father forbade them from being together. But…we helped them. Briac learned to wield a sword and farm the land from Pero, and I taught Wena to read and write and wield magic. They…became our children, without ever any intention of the thing. When the night came that they needed to run away together, we packed up and left the village with them. From then on, we were a family.” Talking about them brings a wave of nostalgia you hadn’t been expecting and you wipe a tear from your eye. “You look exactly like her,” you tell Alana. “I knew you had to be family the second I saw you.”

“I do?” Alana very nearly tears up at the idea and reaches up to touch her own face. “Is that why you looked shocked when you opened the door? I look like the original Arwena Tovar?”

“You’re taller, but that’s the only real difference.” It’s sweet, how dearly Alana seems to take that fact to heart, and you nod. “It’s probably why I felt we could tell you all of this so easily. You just…you look so much like her I couldn’t imagine that that could have happened by accident.”

“I promise this will not be a tale that I spread.” Alana assures you, not wanting you to be wary of her spreading your story and perhaps having people look at you as if you are crazy.

“Thank you.” You didn’t think that she would, but it’s nice to hear the confirmation aloud. “I am, actually, your distant cousin,” you explain. “I’m also descended from Arwena and Briac. Just…a different branch of the family.”

“The side that apparently went to America.” Alana shakes her head, amazed at how the family has branched. “It’s amazing. A paradox. You are the matriarch and yet you are the descendant.”

“I don’t quite understand it myself.” It’s all too grand and smacks of too much consequence, and every time you think about it too much you reach a point where you start to get wrapped up in it like it’s the plot of a fantasy novel instead of your actual life. “But…all of it led me to Pero. And that’s more than I ever could have asked for.”

“I cannot believe that your soulmate is from a different time than you.” Jorge exclaims, unable to deny that is what you are because of the matching scars over your eyes.

“We usually say that we met while I was on that vacation in Scotland.” Pero chuckles into his sip of espresso when you say it and you shrug slightly. “It’s not like we can tell most people what really happened.”

“She tells people I am…” Pero looks to you when he cannot remember the word. “Antisocial.” He huffs, smug that he remembered it.

Alana and Jorge choke on this revelation for a minute before busting out in a fit of smothered laughter that makes even you giggle. “It’s true, amor. You are most of the time. But you love your family.”

“I do not trust anyone but family.” He corrects, frowning at your judgement of his character.

“Social expectations have changed in a thousand years, that’s all.” Alana points out. “And being able to trust your family is not always automatic. We are lucky to be able to trust each other so quickly.”

“I do not understand why.” Pero shakes his head. “Family should be the ones that you trust most. They are…family.”

You know he’s right, in many ways, but explaining to him that your mother would never accept the truth about who he is and when he is from – that she would probably try to have both of you committed if you told her the truth – had been a very long conversation. Of course he trusted you to know best, but he didn’t like the idea that you could not fully trust your parents to support you.

Pero moves over towards you and his hands slip around your waist, his lips kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder softly. “I will change back.”

“Be comfortable, amor.” You nod slightly, knowing he will feel the movement next to his head. “I know that tunic cannot be more comfortable than your t-shirts. My sewing was never that good.”

He chuckles quietly and can’t deny that modern clothes are more comfortable. Less itchy than the ones from his time. “I will be back.”

“So what about you two?” Turning back to Alana and Jorge, you feel the slight loss of no longer having Pero at your side, knowing he will be back quickly. Taking off armor never takes as long as putting it on. “What do you do? How did you meet?”

Jorge smirks, his own pride for his soulmate evident on his face. “University.” He explains. “We were taking a class together.”

“I still do not know how we managed to pass,” Alana laughs, sending him a gentle, fond smile. “We did not exactly study.”

“It is not an exciting story, but it was almost as if we knew right away.” Jorge boasts. “The connection, I mean. It – it is beautiful.”

“Every love story is exciting in its own way.” And really, yours is not for everyone. “It is a new beginning. The start of a life together. That is its own kind of adventure.”

“How is he handling it?” Jorge asks, imagining that despite the advantages of this time, the other man must be having moments where he struggles to understand the world he lives in now.

“There are always new challenges,” you admit, wishing as always that you could simply smooth the path that Pero walks in this time. But you know you cannot do everything for him, and he doesn’t want you to. That doesn’t stop you from wishing you could take away the things that make him unhappy. “It will do him good to have friends here. Family. People he can be his true self with. And…more than anything, I think coming home again will be good for him. The barn out there? Or, what is now a barn? That is the house he was born in.”

"That was the house?" Alana's eyes go comically wide, and she whips her head to the side to look out the window that overlooks the stone structure. "That is – it is a thousand years old and is the house that your soulmate was born in? The one where Arwena and Briac lived and raised their children in?"

“Yes.” You can’t help but chuckle a little at how excited all of this makes her, and you’ll admit that a good portion of it is some kind of relief. It had been a worry of yours that making friends here might be difficult – but clearly the opposite was destined to be true.

"That is – wow – amazing." She lets out a chirp of happiness and looks back out the window again. "He has been working out there. Is he – will he turn it back into what he knew it as?"

“He even applied for the permits we need to restore the thatched roof and stone floor.” It is a particular point of pride for you, that Pero is working so hard to restore his childhood home. He’s working so hard and you could not be happier for him.

"Wow." Now it is Jorge's turn to be impressed and he nods. "I will ask if he needs help." He decides, looking eager at the prospect of learning techniques from a thousand years ago. "It would be beautiful to see a perfect example of how a home from that time would be set up."

“Jorge studied architecture.” Alana tells you, her own pride evident in her voice. “You should see the castles he designs and builds for Binx. They are spectacular.”

“You build castles?” Pero steps back into the kitchen, his brow arched high, and he is very interested in the other man’s skills. The fireplace in the old home has been removed and he wants to rebuild it. “They are still being used in this time?”

“For our cat.” Jorge laughs, slightly embarrassed at the mix-up. “Towers for her to climb and scratch shaped like castles. But I build other things. And design them.”

“Alana was saying that Jorge studied architecture,” you explain.

“And I am a builder.” The younger man nods. “Whatever help you need in restoring your home, it would be an honor to help you.”

Pero rubs his jaw, nodding to himself slightly. “I need to rebuild the hearth.” He tells the younger man. “Some bastard ripped it out and boarded over it. Do you want to look?” He offers, knowing that someone who builds for a living might be a good thing since the bastards to tell you what you can and cannot do with your own property have pissed him off several times.

“Absolutely.” Jorge nods and drops a kiss on the top of Alana’s head before hopping off of his stool at the kitchen counter.

“I’m going to show Alana the grimoire,” you tell them, glad to see Pero making a friend so easily. You’re certainly not going to get in the way of it, especially not when Jorge is practically family. “Come in when you get hungry and maybe we can share supper together tonight?”

Pero nods and moves over to kiss you again. “Do you wish for me to start the fire outside?” He asks, knowing that he had planned on roasting some meat you had bought from the grocery store. While it was not the same as wild game, it was still delicious. “Or do you wish to do something else?”

“No, we can cook outside.” One kiss is never enough, and you steal another easily. “We have plenty enough for four, and we can show Alana and Jorge how we used to do things. It will be perfect.” To not have to hide, or to lie, or to pretend at all is a great gift that you did not think you would ever be given in this part of your life. But as always, as if some wonderful force of the universe is looking out for you – you have gotten the blessing that you needed in spite of undertaking something scary. Whatever else comes during your life in Spain, you have Pero at your side and family to spend time with. There is nothing more you could want.

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tover x you #Pero Tovar x female reader #The Great Wall #Soulmate au #time travel au #disabled reader

[moralesispunk]

Kinktober Day Five - Breeding // Guard Pero Tovar x Royal Reader 

Kinktober Masterlist / @the-purity-pen

Warnings: female reader, forbidden love, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, marriage - in a Church

Word Count: 2.7k

A/n: I missed writing Pero oh so much

There had been so much caution with the way you and Pero had loved before. It was filled with fleeting glances, brushing of hands, lust-filled touching in dark corridors and empty halls. There had always been wariness in never taking it too far. 

You had spoken of plans one through twelve for how you could be together and you had whispered them in his ear, how there could be some way that the next in line for the throne could fall in love with her guard and not be forced to take another husband in his place, but Pero had been careful never to hold out too much hope. He had decided long ago that being by your side and protecting you with his sword could be enough for him, for whoever would ever accept an ex-mercenary as Prince Consort.

He could never tell you that though. Instead he held your hand and forced himself to take in your excitement; the way your eyes sparkled and your fingers would tighten around his as you spoke of the day you could be together. You had painted such a detailed picture that it was hard not to hope for it, especially not when he slept and his dreams were filled with this future.

It was a future of him standing by your side and not behind you and another; of him being free to dance with you and hold you in his arms; a future where there would be children that were the perfect mix of the pair of you who would run around the castle as he ran after them and you strolled behind with the youngest in your arms.

It was a hope he had pushed away for so long that it was hard for him to fully believe that tomorrow he could do all of those things. He would be standing by your side as you were announced to the Kingdom as husband and wife; he would take your hand in his as you shared your first dance in the Great Hall; he could finally speak openly about his wish of starting a family with you.

It had been a month ago when your father had accepted Pero’s official request to take your hand in marriage and the promise had been made for you to be wed when the first of the leaves turned brown. Tomorrow you would finally be his, before the church and Kingdom, but he couldn’t wait.

He knew you would be in your chambers and although he still had to sneak by your Ladies in Waiting and the rest of the guards who had now taken over his old watch, he knew he would not lose his head if he was caught; there would barely be a slap on the wrist and the night would be blamed on love-sickness and excitement for your big day tomorrow. Years of training, however, meant that it was easy enough to sneak into your chambers without being caught. 

You were sitting by your long, oak wood desk when he slipped through the door, his eyes trained on your back as he closed it quietly with a click behind him. He took a moment just to look at you; your night dress having slipped off your shoulder as you dipped your pen in more ink and went back to writing another note.

The room was almost completely in darkness save for the moonlight that streamed in from the one balcony window still open and the single candle that was alight by your side. There were papers scattering the desk, no doubt thank you notes for all of your guests that you insisted on writing as the ever dutiful Queen-to-be, and you were so concentrated on the task at hand that you hadn’t even noticed Pero was there until he lifted you into his arms, your gasp turning into a smile when you saw that it was him.

“Careful Princess, you don’t know who is lurking in these halls at night,” he teased, carrying you over to your bed and placing you in the middle as your warm laughter filled the room.

“You’re right. I’ve heard there is a mercenary who lurks the halls, with eyes as dark as his hair and a scar down one eye, and he is just looking to lure poor Princesses who are up past their bedtime.”

Pero’s laugh was muffled against your neck, his teeth finding the neckline of your nightdress and dragging it down to free your breasts to the cool air of your chamber. There was no need to rush tonight, there was no worry of a chambermaid walking in and running to break the news of Pero’s presence to the King, and so the air felt lighter as your nails scratched against his scalp.

“I think I’ve heard this one. Have you heard what happens when he catches them?” Pero listened as your head shook side-to-side against the pillow and he smiled against your skin, his hands gathering the thin material of your nightdress and dragging it up your thighs as he kissed down across your stomach. “He catches them when they are alone in their chamber, giving them everything that they have dreamt about but are too scared to ask. He kisses them and touches them in ways that Princesses should not be kissed or touched. He has them begging and shaking and crying out to God.”

His rough hands lifted the material up and over your head, your body now only clothed by the moonlight as you stared up at him.

“I think I’d like to be caught by him,” you whispered back and he smiled.

“You, my love, are one filthy Princess.” 

Your laughter echoed around the room before you covered your mouth with your hand, both of your gazes turning to the door for a moment to listen for any stirring.

“I guess my new guards aren’t as diligent as their predecessor at making sure I’m safe; he used to come and check I was all tucked in my bed every night and would be in here at even the smallest peep.”

That thought would have angered Pero to the very bone if he thought that there was any chance you would be left unsafe - it’s why he had been so concerned at being caught when you had first started sneaking around, for him to be exiled or sentenced to death and for your life to be left in someone else’s hands - but now you would be sleeping safely by his side each and every night it filled him with a sense of comfort he had never felt before.

Your palms firmly ran down his sides, untucking the fine linen shirt from his trousers - two of a whole wardrobe of gifts from the royal tailors - and Pero rolled his weight off you long enough to pull his clothes off until he was as bare as you.

When his body covered yours once more the chill of the room was banished and his mouth slanted over yours, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip before you opened your mouth for him. He trailed wet kisses down your jaw and neck, wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples and flicking his tongue across the peak until you were gasping before switching to the other and doing the same. Eventually he kissed down your stomach, past the soft skin below your navel, and lapped his tongue slowly through your folds.

He had learned your body well over this past year of sneaking around and a small part of him was thankful that he had to spend so many months learning you from a distance. He knew what you looked and sounded like when you liked or disliked something; he learned quickly that a brush of his lips against the back of your neck would send a shiver through your body; that there was a spot just below your ear that would make your knees weak; that you were a woman who liked to be teased until you couldn’t take it anymore.

His tongue moved between your folds and the creases by your thigh to keep you right on the edge; eventually, only when your whole body was shaking and your fingers were curled into the silk sheets, he brought his mouth around your clit and sucked, smiling against you when you let out a low moan.

“Pero.” He would never tire of the way his name sounded from your lips, especially not when you gasped the two syllables and dug your nails into his shoulders. “Please, I want- I want to come on your cock.”

Those were the words that stopped his mouth from ravishing you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he kissed back up your body until the head of his cock slipped through your folds and he pushed it deep inside in one slow thrust.

Despite the cold air that filled the room, with the way his body pressed against every inch of yours - your nipples grazing his strong chest, his thighs pressing to the inside of yours and parting you wider, your arms wrapped around his shoulders - you were both quickly covered in a sheen of sweat as he hungrily kissed up your jaw before capturing your mouth in his.

“Tomorrow, Pero,” you gasped against his mouth and pulled back enough to stare into his eyes as he continued to thrust into you slowly, deeper. “Tomorrow I will finally be your wife. I will be yours not only in my heart and soul, for you’ve always had them, but in every way before the law and Kingdom.”

There was only one way he had not taken you as his, one that was on the forefront of his mind as your legs tightened around his waist.

Pero had been careful never to fill you before, always pulling out and painting your soft skin or slipping the head of his cock past your lips for you to swallow down, but now that he knew he could it sent a shiver up his spine.

Technically you would not be officially wed until tomorrow before the kingdom and visitors from all across the lands, but with promises made to one another and the acceptance of your father it was as good as done. You would be his wife; his to love and care for in more ways than just as a guard.

“Will you let me fill you, Princess?” The words brushed past his lips before he could even think about them, the thought of filling you with his child consuming him. “Will you let me make you mine?”

His hips snapped harsher against yours as his hand reached up to the headboard, the sound of wet skin hitting wet skin echoing around the domed room.

“Pero!” You gasped, your heels digging into the backs of his thighs and holding him closer to you as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper inside. “Please, I want to feel you. I want to feel you come inside.” 

He groaned and dropped his head to your neck, leaving wet kisses down your chest until taking one of your nipples in his mouth and slipping his hand beneath your back when you arched into his touch. He held you close, his cock never pulling out and instead pushing deeper and deeper inside as he sat back on his heels and pulled you onto his lap.

He swallowed your gasp, one of his hands holding the nape of your neck and the other gripping your waist as he rolled your hips down against him. He never wanted your body to part from his too long, holding your body wrapped around his as thoughts fleeted through his mind of you round with child; with his child.

“Oh Princess, when I get you back to our chamber tomorrow you won’t be leaving the bed until you're full with my child,” he spoke against your lips and your head rolled back with a moan. 

The coarse hairs above his cock were providing enough friction to tip you over the edge, your nails digging into his shoulders and a cry of his name filled the room. It didn’t take long for Pero to follow and when he did he groaned your name, his hand gripping your hip tight as he watched your face relax and he imagined your body soaking up everything he gave you. 

When your body shuddered and then slumped against his, you buried your face against his neck with a whine.

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You mumbled the words against his skin and he pressed the same back against yours with kisses to your temple and cheek.

Laying you down carefully with your thighs still spread open by his, Pero slipped his softening cock out and he replaced it with his fingers, gathering his spend that had spilled out and pushing it back inside. When your back arched and you moaned with overstimulation he hushed you gently, covering your body with his and pressing his lips to yours.

“We can’t waste any, my love. I take my job of filling you with child very seriously,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Hmm, is that it?” You pressed your soft hands to his cheeks and pulled back to look into his eyes, a thumb stroking over his scar that ran down one eye. “Only doing so as your new role as Prince Consort, bringing an heir to the kingdom.”

He slapped the outside of your thigh playfully, curling the fingers of his other hand deeper inside you and cutting off your teasing with a moan.

“Don’t be silly, Princess. I’ve dreamt every day for this past year what our children would look like; how they would have your laugh and my eyes; how beautiful you will look round with my child; how they will be raised by parents who are so in love that they will never settle for anything else.”

By the end the corners of your eyes stung with tears and you pulled him down against you in a kiss, his hand finally slipping away as he rolled your bodies over until you laid on his chest. 

“Stay until morning?” You asked around a yawn.

Before now, Pero would always have left as soon as you fell asleep. He would have covered your body back with the sheets and kissed your forehead before sneaking back out. Now that he knew he could stay, however, he gripped you tighter and covered both of your bodies in the sheets.

“Of course, my love.”

*****

As he stood in front of the hundreds of guests, of whom he could name about ten despite the lessons by his new right hand guard to remember the names before today, all he could focus on was you.

The white dress, which he had teased you mercicly about the night before when he asked if another color may be more suited to your not-so-virginal self, covered you from the neck down and made you look like an angel before him. He could only just make out your eyes from beneath the lace veil but he knew they were staring back into his and a small smile stretched across your face.

“And from this day forth,” the priest spoke, his voice echoing around the church, “we can come together to hope, and to pray, that this husband and wife will live a long and happy marriage together, one that will bring healthy children to their home - and to our Kingdom.”

Pero kept his hands steady, resting on your waist as lifted the veil from your face and tilted his head down to press his lips against yours. For a second he moved a palm round to rest over your stomach through the layers of dress and he smiled when you gasped against his lips, the both of you knowing that it may not be so long before your family begins to grow.

#tppkinktober2022 #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x y/n #pero tovar #the great wall #guard x princess

[sirowsky-stories]

Part 30 - The Finale

Pero Tovar and Female Reader (nicknamed Bee) Modern AU

The happily ever after awaits, but as always, there's a bump in the road.

Creator chooses not to use Warnings! This is 18+ONLY! Author's Note: Thank you to everyone that's read and commented, liked or lurked. I'm sorry to leave these guys, but I am very happy with this ending, so I hope you'll like it too <3

Word Count: 9485 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

<><><><><><><><><><>

   You were getting married in a few days.    That was a tough thing to wrap your head around, even though it was the most wonderful thing ever. Not that it technically changed anything, it was just such a… Thing.    Everyone you’d told had been completely ecstatic about it, adding to the love-fest, but also unwittingly adding a level of pressure that you hadn’t really anticipated.

   You would’ve been fine with simply bringing your father and best friend to church, had a short ceremony and then just made dinner together and had a relaxed party at home.    But word had spread, not just through your family and friends but through your customers as well, and what was most surprising about it was that it was your old clientele that had been most excited, calling to congratulate and asking if they could join the festivities.

   And you hadn’t been able to turn them down. Not after they’d all been so understanding about your injuries and inability to draw anymore. Which was why the wedding had become a gigantic THING.    Over a hundred guests were coming.    You’d had to close the shop for the entire week just to give Abby enough time to organize and prepare everything, from flower arrangements to cakes, not to mention decorating.

   Your chosen venue was an old barn outside of the city, which had long since stopped being used for hay, and become a local dancehall instead. And while it couldn’t seat such a large crowd for a meal, it could seat them for the ceremony, and then they’d all have to take their chair with them out behind the barn, where the tables would already be set, and the lunch already served.

   All of which had been Abby’s idea, and while it had sounded a little spartan to you, your trust in your chosen sister was absolute, so you hadn’t questioned her choices even once.    She’d roped in both Dean and Claire to help with the food, cakes, and snacks, while other acquaintances of hers had provided the furnishings and the logistics of moving them to the location.

   So, thankfully, you hadn’t needed to do much at all, beyond deciding what you wanted to look like on the day. But that was perhaps also why you felt somewhat detached from the whole thing. Like it wasn’t actually happening to you.    Meanwhile, Pero was so wonderfully unbothered. He couldn’t care less how it happened, so long as you were happy with everything.

   And he’d heard you on the phone with so many of your old clients, hearing how moved you’d been to hear from them, so to him, it had never been a question of whether you should turn anyone down from attending.    To him, each guest was just a testament to your kind heart and the open arms with which you’d approached the world throughout your life.

   However, he was also completely drunk on you, ever since you’d decided to try for another baby, so you weren’t entirely sure that his perspectives were all that reliable.

   The morning before the big day was a Friday, and he seemed to wake up in some kind of breeding mode, perhaps as a result of the overall love-theme of that weekend, but in any case, he was downright feral from the moment he opened his eyes.    For forty minutes straight, he had you pinned under him, scarcely letting you move at all, whether you were on your front or back, while he relentlessly drove into you.

   His arms strained to constantly keep your hips elevated against him, and every time he came deep inside you, he refused to let either of you rest, or a single drop of his seed from going to waste.    Not until you were both so spent that your every muscle was trembling, and your bodies just couldn’t move anymore, did he finally let up and allow himself to collapse beside you.

   “Honey…” you breathed after a long pause. “Are you okay?”

   He was so exhausted that all you got in response was a small grunt at first. But after another few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked at you.

   “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

   “Don’t worry about it, I would’ve told you if I didn’t like it, you know that.    I’m just wondering where that came from?” you clarified, and he huffed a laugh, but it seemed like it was directed at himself.

   “You are ovulating, mi amor. It always drives me crazy, but since I will not get to touch you tonight, or tomorrow, I needed to make sure you would be full of me until then,” he explained, prompting you to ignore the fatigue in your body so that you could rise to your elbows, because you needed your head to clear.

   “Wait, what? How-… Since when can you tell if I’m ovulating? I didn’t even know that!” you exclaimed, truly thinking that he must be joking somehow.

   You weren’t actively keeping track of your cycles, beyond having a general idea of when your next bleed would be, because you and Pero rarely ever went a day without sex anyway, so it seemed superfluous.    Surely, he’d just counted the days since your period, how else could he possibly know?

   “You smell different,” he elaborated, turning your jaw slack in the process, leaving your mouth hanging open, which only seemed to amuse him. “It is a very enticing type of smell for me, it always makes me want to put my mark on you. Figuratively, of course.”

   “No way… that can’t be real,” you challenged, but he just smiled and scooted closer, demonstratively sniffing the skin of your lower arm.

   “Oh, yes, it is. You always smell nice to me, but for these few days, it gets… muskier. Richer and more noticeable. You smell like you normally do after sex, even before I’ve touched you.”

   “Seriously?”

   “Mm-hm,” he hummed, and he sounded really pleased.

   “Huh… I never would’ve thought that. I mean, I know we all have our own scent, but I really didn’t think that it could be that noticeable to anyone.    But wait, what do you mean you can’t touch me tonight? We never said we’d do the traditional night before the wedding stuff.”

   “We never said it, no, but I have a feeling it will happen anyway. There is so much to do today, and we will need our sleep for tomorrow, when we’ll both need to get up early and get started on preparations for what is also going to be a very long day.    And to be honest… it is a distraction. At least for me. And I don’t want to be distracted this weekend, I want to be in the present, with you, for all of it.    We have each other to enjoy carnally for the rest of our lives.”

   You sighed lightly, ending in a smile, because this man was just too damned sweet.

   “Well, when you put it like that…”

   He smiled with you, reached up to kiss you softly on the lips, and then started trying to coax his body back to life so that he could get up.

<><><><><> 

   Pero really was very excited about the wedding. He wasn’t even sure why, but it just felt like such a wonderful thing to get to celebrate his love for you among so many people, all of whom had had some form of positive effect on your life, and vice versa.    The only thing he was slightly saddened about, was the knowledge that the extent of the groom’s side was William and no one else. He had nothing more to bring. The rest of them would all come for you.

   But he was tremendously happy that so many people wanted to be there for you. And he was immeasurably proud that he’d get to stand before all those people and hear you confess your love for him.    The sadness he felt lay only in how poor he felt in not having anything but himself to share with you in return. An irrational sadness perhaps, since you’d already proven that none of that mattered to you.

   It was just such a harsh reminder of how alone he’d been before you. But also, of how rich you’d made him.

   Saturday did see the two of you waking up tired, following late night preparations and fixing of last-minute problems that had of course occurred, because it wouldn’t be a big celebration without at least a few mishaps for you to bemusedly recall in the future.    But you were both happy, even as you first woke up, despite the terrible fatigue and the comfiness of the bed that you now had to leave.

   You kissed good morning and then rolled out of bed to get the day started.    You’d agreed that breakfast was going to be a nice and calm affair, with just the three of you, plus Groot, both to give you a good start of the day, but also to make sure that you’d eat something before all the stressful stuff. Because once that started, you knew that you wouldn’t have time to sit down for a meal.

   Mae wasn’t in the best mood, though. She was sleepy in the mornings in general and didn’t approve of being woken extra early, so she was cranky throughout breakfast.    But it was still just a regular morning, and it was nice to just sit there and talk and let your minds have a rest from the party.    From now on, it would have to sort itself out anyway, because it was too late to change anything, and if something went wrong at this point, you’d just have to go with it.

   After the meal, however, it was time to split up.    Pero would take Babybee with him, while you went to get your hair and make-up done with Abby, after which, your bestie would bring your daughter back to you while he went to a barber and then Dean would help him with the suit.    And then it was pretty much gametime.

   William was gonna go with him to the barber and get a little makeover, or really just a tidying of his head-hair, after all his time in the bunker.    He was living in the country house with Dean and Abby now, so they’d brought him to the barn when they’d left that morning, making it easier for Pero to pick him up.    And getting there, he was astounded at how good it all looked in the daylight.

   Everyone but Will had all been there the night before, putting up the flower decorations, twinkle lights, and all the finishing touches, but it was still something else to see it all come to life under the sun.

   “There’s my boy! How you feeling, son?” Dean greeted him as he stepped into the barn with an impressed whistle.

   “Like the luckiest human being in the world,” he grinned in return, hugging the small mountain of a man.

   “Oh, I do believe you are, Mr. Tovar. Although, I am somewhat biased.”

   “As a father, I think you are allowed to be.”

   “Thank you,” Dean laughed warmly, before the men pulled apart.

   And right then, Mae came waddling through the grass, having made her way across the lawn on her own bare feet, with a watchful eye from her father, of course.

   “Babybee! My sweetest little angel, how are you?” the grandfather giggled, in his own uniquely booming way, and the child was immediately excited.

   “Baba!” she squealed and giggled, and then promptly fell on her butt when her focus was disrupted.

   She’d been quicker to learn how to walk than talk, but mama had unsurprisingly been her first word. Closely followed by baba, which she called both Pero and Dean.

   “Oh, my gosh, you’re getting so big! Soon you’ll be running off doing all the stuff you’re not supposed to do, and then we’ll all be in trouble,” the older man cooed while scooping her up in his big arms.

   “Mm, especially now when her parents will soon be busy with two of you,” the younger man added, making Dean splutter in shock.

   “What!? You guys are pregnant?”

   Ooops… He’d assumed that you’d told your father that the two of you were trying, you always told him everything.    But apparently, you’d been too busy to mention this part.

   “No, not yet… Ay, forgive me. I thought she had told you that we have started working on it,” he sheepishly admitted, but the older man just laughed heartily.

   “Nope. But that’s fantastic news, my boy! The family keeps growing. What a truly wonderful thing,” he chirped, and pulled his son into another hug.

   But as they parted once more, Pero’s eyes went around the room, looking for the only missing piece of the moment.

   “He’s out back, by the treeline,” Dean said, much more mellow as he noticed where the younger man’s focus had gone.

   “He did not wish to come inside?”

   “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what he wishes. It’s been a year and a half since Bee first got through to him, and still, it’s like he actively resists anything that might put a smile on his face,” the older man sighed with a mild shake of his head.

   “Well, let’s leave him be for now. I am sure Abby has left some things for us to do.”

   Together, the three of them put together the finishing touches in preparation for the guests, although Mae mostly just tagged along and babbled.    Their chores included fixing the welcoming drinks, putting the tablecloths out and then setting the tables, making sure all the chairs were accounted for since there weren’t any spares, and checking and double checking the sound systems for the microphones.

   Then the musicians arrived. You’d insisted on a live orchestra instead of a DJ, and that was what you’d gotten. Thirty performers strong, in fact.    And while the men listened to them warm up and test their instruments, they both had to agree that you’d been right. Living music being performed live would never top recorded music blasting through speakers. That was simply a fact.

   Shortly after that, Abby came back to take Babybee over to you so that the boys could start getting ready, and Pero couldn’t help but ask.

   “How does she look?”

   “Happy and very much in love,” was your chosen sister’s answer, and while it wasn’t what he’d meant with the question, it was still the perfect answer.

   “Good,” was all he could think to say in return, and then he darted off to find his brother.

   It took him a minute, because the man had moved from where Dean had suggested he’d been earlier, to sitting just outside the tent where the food was being prepared.  

   “Hey. Ready to go?” he asked once he got close enough to be heard.

   “Sure,” was all the other man replied, getting up and falling in beside Pero on their way back to the car.

   He was no chatterbox, nor particularly positive in general, but that morning he seemed even more down than what was his usual these days.

   “Look, if you don’t want to do this, it’s fine,” the Spaniard reassured him, reiterating what he’d told him half a dozen times already.

   “I know,” Will answered dispassionately, as if literally nothing could ever excite him again.

   Once at the barber shop, both men took their seats beside each other while their barbers got to work, and throughout their visit, William never said a word.    Pero kept up a decent conversation with the young man working on him, who really was a chatterbox and seemed to love all things wedding-related, but after twenty minutes of hitting a stone wall, the other barber gave up, and joined their conversation instead.

   So, by the time they left, the Spaniard was somewhat annoyed with his comrade.

   “Are you even the least bit happy for me?” he asked quietly after parking the car back by the barn, but before stepping out of it.

   “Pero…” the other man sighed.

   “No, tell me honestly: do you want to be here at all today? Because no one is forcing your hand, but if you’re going to be here, then at least try to be part of the love, instead of sitting like a thundercloud in the distance, waiting to block out the sun.”

   Will closed his eyes and let his head fall forwards a bit then, seeming to struggle with something, although what that might be, his brother could only guess at, because the man seemed determined not to share his innermost thoughts with anyone.    For all his progress, he still kept himself cut off from the world around him, rarely even engaging with it even on a superficial level, much less in any meaningful way.

   “I’m not sure that I remember what happiness is, Tov,” he started, still with his eyes closed, but he opened them before continuing, staring out at the fairytale wedding your best friend had created with little more than nature and electricity. “But I see how happy you are, and I want that for you.    I want you to have everything that I never could.”

   “Ay, hermano… I know you do not see this, but you can still have those things too,” Pero tried, but then Will’s eyes fell shut again and he shook his head firmly.

   “No. Even if my heart somehow allowed it, my fear would never let me go there. That’s one part of me that even your wife can’t reach.”

   “Hey, do not get ahead of yourself, she’s not my wife yet.”

   “Sure, she is. Just not legally.”

   That made Pero chuckle, because it was absolutely true, and it was as close to a joke as he’d heard from his old friend in what felt like forever.

<><><><><> 

   Abby returned with Mae after just twenty minutes, at which point, the only thing you had left to do was put the dress on, which was going to be put off for as long as possible to prevent mishaps.    Which meant that there was nothing preventing you from just playing with your daughter for a while.

   You were back home while you waited for the boys to get ready, so all her toys and favourite things were available, and she had you all to herself, with the exception of one very pleased German Shepherd.    Groot had had his own little spa-day while you’d been in hair and make-up, getting bathed, blow-dried and combed until his coat shined, by the local dog-grooming specialist. And he was so proud of his impeccable exterior.

   Although, not too proud to still roll around on the floor and play.    Mae had learned that if she stood up and started walking, the dog would come to her side and let her use him as a crutch, or just keep her from hitting her head against things.    But the thing she loved the most, was if she happened to fall, because then he’d mirror her, dropping to the floor and rolling over as if he too had taken a spill.

   Almost like he knew that she might consider falling a failure, and wanted her to know that there was nothing wrong with falling, because everyone does sometimes.    In any case, it always made her smile when she saw him do that, no matter how sad or upset she might be, but since she was already happy today, it made her laugh hysterically instead.

   Soon enough, though, the door opened, and your father’s voice came booming through the house.    He had quite a tight schedule the poor man, but he seemed to love it. He was used to it, after all, as well as military level planning, and precision execution, so in truth, this was where he really thrived. In the thick of it.

   “Bumblebee? You still here, sweetheart? No cold feet?”

   “In the living room, dad. And my feet are currently too hot,” you called back, and watched him walk in and absorb the sight before him.

   Mae had decided to build a castle out of pillows and blankets, and for some reason, you needed to be the base of this castle, which was why you were on your back on the floor, with about twenty things on top of you, including the dog.

   “Hah, look at that. You might have a future architect here, Bee.”

   “Let’s hope so,” you chirped, just as your daughter realized that her grandfather had stepped in, and immediately abandoned the castle.

   “Go on and get dressed now, Bee. I’ve got everything set up outside, as soon as you’re ready, we’ll get going,” he smiled at you while picking up Mae.

   “Okay. Will you get her changed in the meantime? Her clothes are hanging on the crib.”

   “Yeah, we got it, mama.”

   Your baby had repeatedly proven herself to not like dresses, which was why her wedding outfit consisted of a crème coloured overall, soft and stretchy so that she’d be comfortable, and her favourite sneakers, which were green.    She was gonna have as good a day as possible, and that didn’t require her to look perfect.

   The same could be said for you, but you actually wanted to look a little dolled up.    This was likely to be the only time in your life when you were gonna have an opportunity to play Cinderella at the ball, or Belle at her dance with the prince, and you wanted to take the opportunity to live in a fantasy, just for this one day.

   Still, your makeup wasn’t over the top and while your hair was certainly better tamed than you’d ever manage on your own, it wasn’t tied up in any complicated fashion. Most of it hung freely, with just a few tendrils pulled back so that there’d be something to attach a few small white flowers to.

   The dress, however, was in a league of its own.    It was a sweetheart cut tulle dress, with a top layer of snow-white lace that had been embroidered with leaves and the same type of flowers that were now in your hair.    The skirt wasn’t flared, but there the lace had been bedazzled by thousands of beads and glass diamonds, most thickly gathered at the waist, carrying on down to your mid-thigh, before they started getting more scattered.

   It was a masterpiece, made and tailored just for you, by the wonder woman that was your sister Arabella.

   Stepping out of your room once it was on, your father momentarily lost all his marbles on the floor somewhere, along with his jaw, which was all the proof you needed that it was indeed perfect.    You smiled at him, and his mirroring smile was enough to bring tears of joy to his eyes.

   “Oh, my baby… you’re so beautiful,” he said through the stocking in his throat, while carefully stepping closer to hug you.

   “Thank you, dad. I feel really special today. Just so full of love…” you croaked in return, trying not to let your own tears spill, even though your makeup was waterproof.

   “I know what you mean. So, let’s go celebrate all this love, shall we?” he suggested, stepping back to pick up Mae, who was trying to grab the hem of your dress because it was shiny and much too tempting for baby fingers.

   But you weren’t bothered by her potentially picking a few little sparkles off, so you reached for her once he’d gotten her up, and he handed her to you without complaint.    Instead, he picked up your bag of essentials for the evening, slinging it over his shoulder before grabbing your phone and keys from the shelf in the hall, and then held the door for his girls so that he could lock it for you once you and Groot were outside.

   There was a small train on the back of the dress, just enough to make it fan out behind you, and he was quick to sweep it up while you made your way to the carriage.    Like the true romantic that your father was, he’d insisted on taking you to your wedding by horse and carriage, and it wasn’t some rickety old thing either. It was a retired Royal carriage that he’d bought on auction and restored to its former glory.    A convertible model, black, with silver detailing and deep green velvet on the seats.

   He helped you and Mae get in via the step that fell out whenever the door on the side was opened, letting Groot hop in last, and then he climbed into the coachman’s seat and grabbed the reins.    Happy and Ike were excellent carriage horses, content to trudge along at a moderate pace and would always stay perfectly still whenever they were brought to a stop, needing no groomsmen or helpers.

   Your daughter absolutely loved the ride, and joyously sat in your lap, pointing at everything she could see, for once not speeding past too quickly for her to even make anything out, getting increasingly excited every time you named what she indicated, even though she had no idea what most of it was.    Meanwhile, the dog sat on the seat opposite you, happily letting his tongue catch the wind.

   Since your house was already on the outskirts of town, the ride wasn’t that long, which resulted in you reaching your destination a little too quickly.    But, as it happened, that would turn out to be most fortuitous.    Because while you stopped a bit down the road from the barn, along a stretch that was lined on either side by very old maple and beech trees, a familiar frame came towards you.

   A gangly, middle-aged black man, with a digital camera that probably cost more than your average monthly salary, slung around his neck.

   “Mr. Okusanya… Hi. It’s so good to see you again,” you said, smiling at the memory of the only other time you’d seen him, nervously trying to order a drawing of a diamond-decorated cock, much to Pero’s polite confusion.

   “Thank you for letting me invite myself, Mrs. Tovar.”

   You glossed over the premature use of the name, because you already loved how that sounded, and really, what difference did an hour make?

   “After your kind response to my handicap and the loss of your order, how could I not?” you replied, unable to stop the slight sorrow that always accompanied any reminder of your lost skill and passion, from slipping into your voice and your expression.

   “Oh, never mind that. As it turns out, just voicing that particular interest without being ridiculed or belittled in any way, helped me to be a more confident person.    Thanks to your kindness, I’m getting married too, next year. And I never would’ve dared to tell him anything about that if you hadn’t opened the door for me first, so believe me, I am only ever grateful to you.”

   His words sent a flurry of warmth and compassion through your chest, as well as a slight swell of pride that you’d been able to do something so profound for this man, by just being yourself, leaving you speechless but smiling widely.

   “And on the subject of my gratitude, if I may, I’d very much like to repay you,” he added, after wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “Will you let me take your wedding photos?”

   Stunned, you just stared at him for a moment, and then nodded your agreement, because it was just such a wonderful thing to offer.    You hadn’t even considered hiring a professional photographer, because you hadn’t felt up for the whole idea of structuring a photoshoot into your schedule and then having a stranger, and essentially a paparazzi, lurking about all day.

   But this wasn’t a stranger. And as a photographer, he was used to nature motifs, including animals which were generally mobile and required him to blend into the background not to startle them away.    Odds were, you’d never even notice him moving around the guests.

   “That’s very kind of you, sir,” your father suddenly entered the conversation, having stayed out of it while you got reacquainted, and because you hadn’t remembered to introduce him.

   “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry!    Amari, this is my father, Dean. Dad, this is one of my former clients, Amari Okusanya,” you hurried to correct your mistake, and then remembered your child, still sitting on your lap. “And this is my daughter Mae.”

   The two men exchanged pleasantries and then Amari suggested taking some photos right there, with the gorgeous trees for a backdrop, while you waited for the clock to strike.    You stepped out of the carriage and followed his instructions, letting him move the skirt of the dress around to experiment with angles and movement, all the while feeling mildly lost since you’d never posed for anyone before.

   But he noticed and suggested taking a few pics with you by the horses, which instantly set you at ease. And then with Groot, then Dean, then all of you, then just you and Mae, and he kept going like that, just keeping you occupied, allowing him to snatch candid photos in between the posed ones.    Until you were suddenly out of time.

<><><><><><> 

   Pero heard the carriage arrive on the road outside the barn. The shoes that he had put on your father’s horses clapping against the pavement in a double rhythm, bringing him his bride and partner in all things.    It made his heart swell just knowing that he was about to have you beside him again, ready to declare to all these witnesses, that you had chosen him.

   He didn’t know who anyone in the room was, save for Abby, Will, Claire, Kate and Cody, but it didn’t matter. They were all there to celebrate your love, and for that, he appreciated each and every one of them.    William had taken the stage with him as his best man, but stood like a statue behind him, participating only with his presence, not his joy or excitement, which Pero could forgive because at least he was there. For a long time, that was more than he’d dared to hope.

   Abby was across from him, on the other side of the altar, ready to free your hands and support you in any way you might need, already smiling with tears in her eyes before you’d even arrived.    The two of you had been through so much together, throughout your lives, and been able to stick together through all of it, creating an unbreakable friendship that he would always cherish and protect.

   The orchestra was lining the entrance of the barn, so when they started playing, it was because you and Dean had told them that it was time.    That you were ready.    So, when the music started, everyone rose to their feet, and Pero sucked in a nervous breath, suddenly unable to see anything but the sunlight that shone through the door.

   Mae was too small to be a flower-girl, but Groot wasn’t.    He came first, walking down the aisle while pulling his little sister in a tiny cart, attached to him via a harness, both of whom Pero had designed and constructed especially for today.    And, ever the princess, Mae smiled and cooed as she was paraded in front of all the fancily dressed guests, all smiling at the adorable scene.

   Then suddenly… there you were.

   As if the sun itself had beamed you into that wide doorway, you seemed to glide into view, shining almost too bright for him to make you out at first, but as you stepped closer, the golden light released you, letting him see all of you.    His breathing slowed even as his heart pounded harder. Because however nervous he’d been before, your presence always soothed him. Even now.

   Unknowingly, he tried to step towards you, but a hand on his elbow held him back, reminding him that there was a procedure to this.    He heard Will’s voice somewhere behind him whisper almost reverently about how beautiful you were, and he could only nod in agreement.    He heard Abby snivel quietly, and saw your eyes turn to her with a tear-filled smile, just as you reached the altar and handed her your small bouquet of wildflowers, picked from around your house and the meadows around the barn.

   Then Dean’s large hand was suddenly on Pero’s shoulder, and he was slightly startled to realize that he’d never even noticed your father walking in beside you.    The older man was a mess of tears and smiles, pulling his adopted son in for a hug before he could bring himself to step aside, and let Pero step up to take his place at your side.    The two men laughed quietly together for a moment, at their own overflowing emotions, and when they pulled apart, you were smiling at them with an equally overwhelmed heart.

   With pride oozing from his every pore, Pero stepped over to you, offering you his arm for support as you climbed up the two steps onto the altar, while your other hand lifted the dress to keep you from tripping.

   “You look so beautiful, my love,” you suddenly said, while Abby fiddled with your skirt so that it wouldn’t twist around your legs.

   He hadn’t expected that hearing your voice would made his heart jump and pinch and bounce with excitement and gratitude, so when his own eyes abruptly filled with tears, he didn’t know what to do except just smile at you.

   “My sun…” was all he managed to choke out in response, but you understood.

   He had always been a star in your orbit. And he always would be.

<><><><><> 

   The entire ceremony was overwhelming for so many reasons.    Walking up that aisle and seeing him standing there, actually in awe of you, was almost more than your heart could bear.    Your ears registered Mae cooing and babbling when Groot brought her to Claire on the front row, next to the empty seat where your father would sit, but your eyes saw only the stranger.

   And in a single second, you saw everything that had happened between you.    From that first unwelcomed kiss, to finding him on your porch, inviting him in, letting him claim you… and everything that had followed because of it.    So much of it had been bad, but you’d still suffer through all of it again, a hundred times, for the love and joy and wonder that it had brought into your life.

   Then he was taking your hand, and his touch brought you back to the moment, to the reality of the man before you. The man you’d chosen, risked everything for, and allowed yourself to love without boundaries or restraints.    The words came of their own, from some part of your brain that you weren’t in control over right that second.

   You wondered if your face mirrored his in that moment. If you too looked as though the protective dam around your heart had burst open, flooding the air around you with rainbows, sparkles and sunshine.    You hoped so.

   The priest took over then, and as per your instructions, kept it short, sweet and light-hearted, as churchly rituals could so easily become stuffy and stale.    But this pastor was young and had a modern view of church, believing it to be something that needed to adapt to the present, as all things did, and had no trouble drawing laughter from the crowd and thereby stripping the ceremony of all nervousness or tension.

   You’d written your own vows, and just getting through them without forgetting every other word became another humorous spectacle, but one that you both felt entirely comfortable with.    Because how were you supposed to say such powerful and incredible things to one another, in front of a hundred people, without getting flustered? It was impossible to begin with, so there was nothing to do but laugh at it and soldier on.

   The engagement ring that he’d made for you had been made of steel, polished until it shined and then engraved with a planet.    And the wedding rings told the story to completion. Identical in every way, except that yours added a star next to your planet, while his depicted that same star, but falling into a symbol of infinity.    So simple, and so perfect.

   And then, finally, there was the kiss.

   The priest had only barely gotten through the sentence when Pero surged forwards. And you weren’t far behind yourself, resulting in a minor crash of your bodies against each other, and more laughter from the crowd, followed by cheering and applause.    But you barely even heard it over the rushing of your blood and the happy pounding of your heart.

   His arms held you so tightly to him, even long after the kiss had ended, unwilling to let you slip even an inch away from him. But not out of fear or possessiveness.    He just didn’t wanna let you go. He wanted to feel your joy just as much as you wanted to feel his. To touch your skin and feel how it warmed with the desired contact.    But most of all, both of you just wanted to live in that moment and never let it go.

<><><><><><> 

   The guests saw nothing strange at all about being asked to bring their folding chairs with them to their seats, and without complaints, grabbed one each and started making their way outside to the tables, where the food had been served during the end of the ceremony.    You hadn’t scheduled any speeches or really, anything at all past this point. From now on, it was just a feast, where the goal was simply for everyone to enjoy themselves.

   There were no seating arrangements and no folder with any program for anyone to read or stick to. Just good food, an orchestra that took requests, plenty of wine and beer for those that fancied it, and an announcement from you that everyone was welcome to dig in.    That was it. The rest would happen if it happened, and however it wanted to happen.

   During the meal, Pero really struggled to look at anything but you, or occasionally Mae when her sounds drew his attention. But she was with her grandfather and as happy as any kid could be, so his focus kept coming back to you.    He found himself watching the silliest little details about you, like how you held your fork, or how your throat moved when you chewed. The tiny hairs on your arms that fluttered in the breeze.

   Not one drop of alcohol crossed his lips, and yet he felt utterly drunk all day.

   “If I may have your attention, dear guests…” Dean eventually found the microphone, unable to keep from giving a speech to his only daughter on her special day. “I can’t let this occasion pass, without saying a few things.”

   His rich, strong voice carried to every ear across the open area, and everyone fell into a deeply respectful and complete silence.

   “A father’s greatest fear in life, is that his children won’t be safe. But when that life is good, and his children are safe, his fear instead becomes about their happiness. And for a long time, I thought I knew what a happy Bumblebee looked like.    But as it would turn out, I was very wrong.”

   He paused then, needing to swallow against the tears that were already coming.

   “When Pero entered her life, my daughter became something new to my eyes. Something I’d never seen before. It would take me some time to figure out what that was, but eventually, I realized that it was in fact, security.    It was the comforting and effortless happiness of knowing that her heart is safely held by someone else’s hands. Someone who truly values that gift and without hesitation, returns it.    Now, that doesn’t mean that life is suddenly perfect. But it does mean that the good moments, truly are as good they can be, and that’s something to be grateful for.    That’s what you give to my baby girl, Pero, and that is why I will always love you, my son.”

   If he had planned to add more to that speech, that plan was halted then, because that was as much as he could get through before the emotions became too overwhelming.    And not just for him.    Unable to let such amazing words go without acknowledgement, Pero rose and stepped over to the man, pulling him into a strong hug that saw them both break down for a minute.

   But when they pulled apart, it was with smiles in their features and joy in their hearts, even if their faces were drenched in tears.    And you were right there behind him, throwing your arms around your father’s neck as soon as it was free, letting him lift you off the ground with how tightly he held you.    The crowd applauded again, and there weren’t many dry eyes among them.

   After that, the late afternoon flowed in its own kind of rhythm, sometimes slow and mellow, with conversation and mingling, and sometimes energetic and loud, filled with dance and laughter.    It rose and fell, over and over, but Pero seemed to be sailing his own river in the middle of that ocean, remaining steadfast at the same pace, no matter how rowdy the seas churned around him. Undoubtedly lulled by his continued drunkenness on love.

   Until Groot suddenly placed his head in his lap and whined unhappily.

   The sound was so unexpected that it made him pause and turn his entire attention to the animal, and when he did, Groot got up and started walking away from the festivities.    He stopped when the human didn’t follow, looking back at him with another whine, so he got up and fell in behind the dog, wondering what he could possibly want to show him at that particular place and time.

   The canine led him across the entire field that connected to the barn, passed the horses that had been set free to graze while the festivities carried on, all the way down to the creek, the same one that trailed past your house, further up the road.    And when they got there, Groot indicated something of interest down by the bigger rocks that were closest to the water.

   “Of course, it must be down there…” he sighed, looking at the dog with a quizzical brow. “Do I have to? Can you not go down there and bring whatever it is you want me to see up here?”

   The animal just kept looking at the rocks, slowly wagging his tail while he waited for the human to get the message.

   “Fine. But just so you know, this suit was very expensive,” he griped as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves.

   Carefully climbing down the slippery bank, he miraculously managed to reach the bottom without any mishap, and started looking for whatever the dog was indicating.    At first glance, he missed it, because he wasn’t expecting it to be something that connected to his past. But once he saw the small hidden package, he already knew what it was going to be, and his heart skipped a beat.

   At the Falcons, they’d been taught that if they ever got separated from their partner and were fatally injured, to hide an identifying mark within a scarf or sock, and then use nature to conceal it.    They hadn’t worn dog-tags or anything specifically identifying like that, but their partners had known their every item of clothing and every one of their possessions.

   And since William had still refused to rejoin society, Pero was very much aware of exactly how few things the man now owned, and exactly how each of those things looked.    A worn and frayed cap that had once belonged to a young Dean, so old now that it no longer had any colour, had been bundled up and jammed down between two larger rocks, and then almost completely covered by mud and leaves.

   He pulled it out, placing it on one of the larger rocks before gently prying it open to find a neatly folded note, protected by a plastic bag, inside.    Sorrow filled his soul as he stuffed the bag into his pocket and started climbing back up the bank, somehow managing to escape without muddying up his pants, only to then sit down in the soft grass back at the edge of the field.

   Groot instantly knew that he wasn’t doing well, and sat down beside him, leaning his entire body against Pero’s side, for support as well as comfort.    He gratefully scratched the dog’s chest for a few beats, to thank him, but also to delay opening the note.    Because even if it wasn’t as bad as he feared, it wasn’t going to be anything good.

   He hadn’t seen Will at the party for a while, but he’d assumed that the man had just wandered off to escape the positive atmosphere for a bit, since he wasn’t susceptible to it, which probably made it grating to listen to and be surrounded by.    He really hadn’t thought that something like this might happen. Especially not now, after so much time had passed and so much progress had been made.

   But there was no avoiding it. He’d have to read it sooner or later, so he might as well get it over with now, when the atmosphere of love that was waiting for him back by the barn, would help him endure whatever pain this would cause him.    So, he pulled the bag out and ripped the plastic open, shoving it back in his pocket so it wouldn’t fly off on the wind while he unfolded and read the piece of paper, unbiddenly recognizing that it was a sheet from the shopping-notepad on Dean’s fridge.

   Which meant that he hadn’t done this on impulse. It had been planned, since early that morning, at the latest. But probably much further back than that.

   ~Pero,    I know that this will hurt you, especially today, but I can’t put it off any longer.    My life was supposed to end that day, with them. Everything after that has been wrong. Just layer upon layer of wrong.    I didn’t have it in me to end it back then, and I still don’t. But I’m also not gonna fight for a life that isn’t meant to be. I’ll leave my fate to nature, and if she decides to end me, I’ll finally get to rest. If she doesn’t, then I guess that’s just my penance.    Either way, this is our ending, brother.    I never deserved you, but I have loved you all the same.

   Please, tell your wife that I will forever carry her bravery and kindness in my heart. Tell her I’m sorry.    I am so very sorry.    Will~

   He read it three times before he could accept it. And then another three before the tears made it too hard to see.    The pain made him want to blame the man for giving up, after all your effort spent trying to save him, to give him a chance to live again. It made him want to scream and curse his brother to hell for making all that struggle and heartache and misery pointless.

   But he couldn’t, because that wasn’t true.    The harsh truth was that Will had never been given a choice. You and Pero had decided to try and undo Lang’s conditioning, unable to trust anything he’d said while under another man’s thumb.    And then, when you’d finally started breaking through, the two of you still hadn’t believed him when he’d asked you to stop.

   No matter how much progress he’d made, you had never heard him when he’d said that he didn’t want this life.    Because you hadn’t wanted to hear it. Either of you.    And that now left the Spaniard with two questions.

   Should he wipe his tears away, plaster a fake smile on his lips and go back to try and let the positive atmosphere purge his sorrows? Or should he take you aside and tell you what had happened, ruining the day for both of you?    But he already knew the answer, because there was no way that you wouldn’t see the pain in his eyes, no matter how well he tried to hide it.

   You knew about the conversation that had taken place between him and William that day when you’d invited him to the house, so you knew that he hadn’t been doing so good.    Still, Pero felt certain that this would somehow hurt you even more than it did him. Because to him, his brother represented his only good childhood memories, the only positive influence on his entire existence prior to meeting you.

   But to you, he represented something far greater.    Even with how briefly you’d known him, the poor man had somehow become tethered to your sense of hope, your belief in miracles and the healing power of love and acceptance.    And your husband feared that losing that was going to rip a hole through your soul.

   Even so, he couldn’t lie to you. Not today, when you were celebrating togetherness.

   He got up and started walking back, wiping his tears and straightening his tie on the way, doing his best not to let all the guests see how hard he was fighting to hold himself together, as he made his way through the crowd to find you.    But you knew at first glance, before he’d even reached you, and came to his side to follow him out of earshot from everyone.

��  He couldn’t say it, so he showed you the note instead, and watched with a sinking heart as the words drilled through your being like blunt swords.    You didn’t say anything at first. You just closed your eyes and tried to breathe. Tried to keep it from overpowering you.    And you managed it a lot better than he had.

   “He’s gone,” you whispered, but it felt like you were saying it to yourself.

   As though you were trying to tell yourself, convince yourself, that this was the new reality and that you had to let it be.

   “I don’t know what to do…” Pero admitted, gesturing blindly towards the guests and the party, feeling so torn between the joy of the wedding and the sorrow of this unexpected tragedy.

   “There’s nothing we can do,” you said, and your voice was so sad, but also unexpectedly strong. “He’s gone.”

   It seemed that you had decided to lean on love, and to let that hold you up, at least until this day was over. And in your surprising resolve, he somehow found a path back to the light of his heart.    And as the day turned to evening, and the world darkened, revealing the thousands of twinkle lights that hung above the crowd and throughout the barn, the two of you did somehow manage to find your way back to a resigned sort of peace.

   Perhaps in the knowledge that he was still alive, or in the fact that at the very least, neither of you had made this decision for him.    That for the first time in a very long time, William Garin was free.

-=¤=-

   “Daddy!”

   “Hey, Mae-Mae! How was school?” he asked as his daughter came bouncing towards him, smiling widely as she waved a piece of paper in her hand.

   “It was fun! Look! We made pictures of our hands!” she excitedly explained while handing him the picture.

   “Oh, wow! That does sound like fun. Maybe we should ask mama if she has any fun paint at the shop, and we could all make pictures of our hands.”

   “Yeah!”

   “Yeah, let’s do that. But right now, we must go home and let Groot out.”

   “Okay, daddy.”

   He opened the car door for her, and since she was three years old now, she could climb in and up into the car-seat by herself.

   “Hi, Jace!” she called once she was in her seat, but Pero gently hushed her.

   “Shh… He is sleeping, angel. We will wake him when we get home.”

   “Oh. Sorry,” she whispered, trying to peer at her little brother at the other end of the backseat.

   “It’s good that you are excited to see him, just remember that he is still very small and has lots of growing to do.”

   “And we grow best in our sleep, right daddy?” she proudly repeated what you’d told her on numerous occasions when she’d been trying to stay up past her bedtime.

   “That’s right.”

   He booped her nose and then made sure she was safely buckled up before closing the door and getting in the driver’s seat.    Once home, he let her out first, handing her the house keys once she was on the ground, before rounding the car to pick up his nine-month-old who loved nothing more than to sleep, and especially in the car.

   “Hey, dormilón… time to wake up, we’re home,” he cooed once the boy was in his arms.

   Meanwhile, Mae was already unlocking the front door to let the patient Shepherd out, giggling as he playfully bounced around her before running over to greet Pero and make sure that everything was alright with the family, before he felt okay to go relieve himself.

   While they waited for you to get home, Pero played with Mae while simultaneously tidying up the house, getting dinner started, changing Jace’s diaper, and doing some laundry.    The trashcan in the kitchen was full, so while his son had gone back to sleep, he told Groot to keep an eye on the girl while he took the garbage out to the bin.    He had absolute faith that the dog wouldn’t let his daughter anywhere near anything dangerous in the minute that it would take him to get back.

   But just as he’d dumped the bag into the bin, a movement to his left caught his eye.    It was so small that he assumed it to be a trick of his own senses, which seemed to be confirmed when he looked towards the imagined movement and found nothing there.    Dismissing it, he turned to walk back inside, only to find himself stopping halfway there. And this time, he wasn’t imagining anything.

   Before he’d even turned, he knew that it was real. As though the pressure in the air had suddenly changed, he felt the man’s presence.    Slowly turning his head, his long lost brother came into view between the trees. Alive, and by the looks of it, doing alright.    A tear-filled smile spread across Pero’s face, and then the man was gone.

   He waited until after dinner, when the kids were tucked in and sleeping soundly and the two of you were huddled up on the couch together, trying to stay awake after a long day, to tell you about it.

   “I saw him today,” he said softly into your hair, as you rested your head against his chest.

   “Who?” you answered, sounding comfortably sleepy.

   “William.”

   It took you a second to absorb that, and then you sat up so that you could turn your body around and look at him. As if you needed to see his eyes to believe that it could be true.

   “He only gave me a glimpse, but… he’s alive, Bee,” he continued once you could see him, and suddenly your entire being seemed to shine.

   You didn’t say a word, and you didn’t need to. He could see how that part of your soul, that part that he’d been so afraid would get ripped to pieces by losing Will, came back together right then.    You’d been so composed after you’d read that note that he had come to believe that he’d been wrong about how you’d take it. But now, a year and a half later, he could see how you healed as your faith in miracles was restored.

   You didn’t know it yet, but as your children would grow up, a mysterious stranger would watch them from the shadows.    Time and time again, he would shield them from harm in an ever more dangerous world, and even though they’d get frightened on the few occasions that they’d happen to catch a glimpse of him, their father would always tell them to trust him.

   And when they’d ask him why in the world they should do that, he would tell them the three most important lessons that life with you had taught him:

   “Because even a killer can be a good person. Even a mother can be a terrible person. And even a stranger can be a brother.”

THE END

===============

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x reader #pero x reader #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall modern au #modern!pero #modern!au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories

[misspearly1]

Day Twenty-Eight: Hate Fucking - Pero Tovar

Kinktober22 List

WC: 3K Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Cursing. Enemies to Lovers. Smut. Unprotected PIV sex. Voyeurism. Female Masturbation. Dominant/Manhandling. Degradation Kink. (F is called a dirty little slut). Praise kink. AN: Hehehe! I loved writing this, I really liked the enemies to lovers part in this story. I hope you all enjoy the read.

-

If anger had a face, then it would be Pero Tovar's right now at this exact moment and it’s because of you.  

You joined William Garin’s little band of mercenaries three years ago, and there’s been this ongoing feud between you and the Spaniard for so long now that you have forgotten the original reason as to why. Although, you do remember the most recent reason as to why you were pissed off with him and that’s because he tore holes in your bedroll, so naturally, you had to get revenge. 

It’s a game of tit for tat between you and Pero, destined to go too far one day. You can see it coming, but for now it’s just the little inconvenient things that you do to piss him off. For instance, he tore holes in your bedroll, making it uncomfortable for you to sleep on, so you returned the favour and burned his bedroll on the campfire. 

Looking at him now and seeing the cold glaring expression he was giving you as he stands beside the roaring flame of his bed in the fire, you grin. You grin at him with an ear-to-ear kind of smile, acting as innocently as you could. The other men and women sitting around the campfire snicker to themselves, the sound fuelling the rage behind his brown eyes. 

The man is pissed off, there’s no doubt about that, but what other act of revenge is better? He shouldn’t have messed with your bed and now he can sulk as he sleeps in the dirt tonight. He has the coins to buy another tomorrow and maybe, just for shits and giggles, you might sabotage that one somehow too. Just to get the message across. 

Rising from the floor with an obnoxiously loud yawn while you stretch, like rubbing dirt in his wounds, you look around to the group and say goodnight. “Alright. I’m tucking in for the night-” You pause to look directly at Pero, a little smirk on your lips. “Have a good sleep boys and girls.” You turn to walk away, relishing in the laughter over your shoulder, even William chuckled about it. “Well, it is your own fault, Pero.” He says, and you smile sweetly at his remark. 

Williams got your back sometimes when you do stupid things like this, and of course, he has Pero’s back too when he does stupid things to you too. At some point the dispute between you both has to be dealt with properly like adults, but just for a little while longer, you’re going to enjoy making the man’s life miserable because it’s fun. 

Making your way to the edge of camp and opening your tent, you climb inside and smile at your brand new bedroll and quilts. You bought them today at the market, even splashed out a little and got the extra padding. It fits perfectly. You take your shoes off and place them in the corner, then turn around to close the tent and undress, but Pero comes out of nowhere and pushes you back onto your ass.

“Make way,” He grumbles and steps inside your tent. 

“Um, excuse me!” You complain as he turns around to close the entrance. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You ask, to which he responds by kicking his shoes off. “No-no. Absolutely not, Pero. Get out of here. This is my tent. Get it? MY tent, as in mine and not yours.” 

“I know that, but-” He turns to face you again, wearing the same glaring expression he had from earlier. “-It’s ours until I can buy another bedroll tomorrow at the market. Get it? OUR’s, as in, this is what you get for burning mine, hermosa.” 

“Pero. You can’t sleep here, I won’t allow it.” You huff and cross your arms. 

“Yeah well, good luck kicking me out.” He grins. The fucking asshole grins, clearly mocking the way you smiled at him earlier around the campfire. It felt like a giant ‘fuck you’. In fact, he may as well have just said the words and flipped you the bird too. You’re pissed off and can’t do anything about it either.

You sit and look at him, wide-eyed with shock and disbelief as he opens up his shirt. He’s serious, genuinely serious, but when he reaches for his belt buckle, you shake your head and object. “No - don’t you dare Pero Tovar,” You give him a serious, grave look, showing that you’re not messing around. “The pants stay on. Otherwise, I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep.” 

“Oh,” He visibly cringes at the thought, then nods in agreement. Kneeling down and yanking your quilt up, the action pushing you to the side, he climbs into your bed and gets comfy. Literally making himself at home, like this is where he sleeps every night. You sit for a moment, calming your breathing as this is your hell until the morrow - sleeping beside Pero.  

“Asshole.” You mutter, yanking your quilts back before laying down and facing the opposite direction to him. “C’mon now, we both know this is a dream of yours, right?” Pero retaliates with a dark chuckle.

Turning over to face the same direction as you, he scoots closer and presses his chest to your back, his proximity and choice of words making your cheeks burn red with shame. Does he actually know or is he just saying that frivolously? You ask yourself. 

“Tell me something, hermosa-” Pero scoots closer again, purposely pressing his crotch into your ass as he wraps his arm around your front. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to moan and melt under his touch. “-Did you think I wouldn’t be able to hear you moaning my name when you pleasure yourself at night, hm? It’s funny how your tent is always beside mine.” 

Shit. He does know. You panic now, really panic and burn redder than a tomato for quite clearly being caught out by him. It’s true. Completely and utterly true. You’ve pleasured yourself plentiful while moaning his name into your blankets, but apparently not quiet enough. The man is loving every second of your silence, it only fuels his determination to mock and ridicule you even more.

“Hmm. That’s a bad girl, Y/N.” He growls, then tuts quietly into your ear three times. “I should teach you a lesson.” His fingers roam the expanse of your stomach, toying with the waistband of your pants. “Oh but, I think you’ll like that won’t you?... I have a better idea-” He jerks on you to lay back then moves to hover above you. “-Show me, hermosa. Show me how you pleasure yourself and tell me what you think about while you do it.” 

“B-But Pero-” You try to protest and explain yourself, until he places his finger to your lips, cutting you off. “No-no,” He shakes his head with a smirk on his lips, “Save it for later you dirty little slut. Do as I ask, and I’ll reward you, Sí?” 

Nodding eagerly, you’ve dreamed of Pero dominating you like this, dreamed of him manhandling you as he fucks you senseless. You've wanted him so badly, wanted him inside of you and if that means pleasuring yourself in front of him, then so be it. The idea of it is turning you on anyway. 

You make a surprised sound as he leans down and kisses your lips. You didn’t expect him to but are pleased that he did regardless. He lowers his hands to your pants and begins pulling them down, along with your undergarments, before breaking off to take his very first look at your sex. You’ve always wondered how he’d react. 

“Oh. Already wet, I see.” He groans deeply and licks his lips, as if imagining what you taste like. “So pretty and…” He pauses to spread your folds apart. “Hmm, so pink and swollen too. I knew you had a sexy pussy, bebita.” Removing his hand from your cunt, you whine from the loss of his touch. “Go ahead, precioso. Satisfy yourself like you do every night.” 

Audibly gulping, you hesitate briefly with stage fright. You’ve never done anything like this before in previous relationships, it’s usually just the regular plain and simple kind of sex, but you’re intrigued to explore this intimate act with Pero’s dark eyes watching you from above. You feel… desirable and naughty. 

You look down at your body briefly, then back up to his eyes before bringing your hand to your mouth, but upon seeing one brow raised from Pero, you lift your hand to his mouth instead. Your breathing begins to quicken with excitement and wonder as he darts his tongue out and licks the pad of your finger. You want to feel that tongue of his somewhere else.

The smallest sigh escapes your lips as you lower your hand between your legs, and with a quick curt nod from the man, your fingers slip through your wet folds with ease. “Oh,” You moan softly, rubbing nameless shapes on the little bundle of nerves with him watching you attentively. 

“Tell me, what do you think about when you do this, chica?” He asks, looking back up at your face then quickly snaps his fingers, the action springing your eyes open after you had closed them on instinct. “Look at me and answer my question.” 

“I think about you,” Replying with an answer that clearly wasn’t good enough, you could see that he wasn’t happy with it and elaborated for him. “I close my eyes and imagine you doing this instead.” You admit, your brows furrowing together as you press two fingers to your entrance. “I picture your cock inside of me instead of my fingers, Pero.” 

“Even though I would stretch you open? My cock is a lot bigger than two fingers.” He asks another question, making you quiver and clench as you nod to him. “Words querida. I know you can use them.” He jerks his chin out with request. 

“Yes,” You moan as you bend your fingers into a come hither motion. “Yes, I picture your cock inside of me instead, even though it will stretch me open Pero, I still want it… still want you.” 

“Well, today is your lucky day.” He smirks. Pulling your hand away from your cunt and pinning it above your head, you hold your breath in anticipation as he uses his other hand to free himself. You watch as he pulls his pants down just enough so that his cock springs back and slaps his lower stomach, and you panic slightly at the sheer size of him. He wasn’t messing around. The stretch is going to be phenomenal. 

The head of his cock is large, angry red and already leaking beads of pre-cum, then the length of him is six, maybe seven inches at the least, but the girth. Jesus… The girth is wide, bulging with a couple prominent veins. His balls were full and heavy, nicely covered with hair. You can tell just by looking at the hair on his sac and mound that he keeps it tidy and clean.

“Spread your legs, bebita,” Pero whispers breathlessly, taking himself in hand. “And spread them wide.” 

You didn’t know where to look as you parted your legs for him. At his face, which was drinking in the sight of your cunt, looking like it’s the best one he’s ever seen. At his manhood as he slowly strokes himself, swirling his finger over the head of his cock, gathering the pre-um. Or look down at your own body as he moves in to line himself up at your entrance.

It was especially arousing to watch the man gaze at your pussy, not even looking up at you as he slid his cock up and down your slit. He was just enjoying the way your body reacted to his touch, the way you clenched around nothing and quivered for him. He decided to tease you a little more by barely slipping in and out, taking pleasure from the way you lift your hips, as if chasing after him. 

“Hm, so needy.” Pero chuckles, finally looking up into your pleading eyes. “When was the last time you had sex, cariño?” He asks, to which you stutter out in reply. “L-Last year, f-ffuck. Pero, please.” You whine, lifting your hips up again as he pulls the tip out. It’s torture feeling him breach your entrance and giving you all but a taste of what’s to come. You want the whole thing, but he wanted to keep you waiting. To drag it out as long as he possibly could. 

“A whole year, huh?” The man tilts his head in question, eyes darting to your shirt briefly before he lifts it up, exposing your breasts. “Not with anyone here, I hope,” He groans at the delectable sight of your tits, nipples hardening before his eyes with the cool air. “If you’re going to be my little plaything, I don’t want anyone getting in the way of that.” 

“No, not with anyone here.” You answer quickly, rotating your hips. “No one will get in the way, Pero. Stop teasing me, please.” You beg, beg for him to give what you so desperately want, but he only smiles, as if he was pleased with your answer, but not ready to give up teasing you just yet. You resort to whining for him, feeding his sick, twisted desire of hearing you plead for his cock when suddenly, he thrusts forward. “Pero!” You scream, scream loud enough that even God himself would hear. 

“Nnnngh. So fucking warm and tight,” He growls deeply, pinning both hands above your head now as he takes a moment for your walls to relax around him. The first thrust inside was almost enough to make him cum, it felt so good and euphoric. He wishes he could stay in that moment forever, wrapped tightly with the warmth of your cunt. 

“Fuuuck,” You sob as he pulls out, missing the fullness of him for only a second as he plunges back inside. “Holy shit!" You pulse around his length, feeling every inch of his girth before he pulls out again and sets a quick, brutally deep pace, touching your cervix each time he bottoms out inside. 

“Love this, don’t you, cariño.” He asks rhetorically. Pile-driving into your pussy and knocking the breath out of your lungs each time, you only managed to whimper for him in reply before he leans down and presses his forehead against yours, panting heavily across your face. “That’s what I thought. Good girl, Y/N. Good fucking girl, taking my cock so well.” 

“P-P-Pero,” Your moan stutters its way out as you fall apart for him. You wanted to express how much you’ve wanted this, how long you’ve wanted it for and how many times you’ve pleasured yourself thinking about him fucking you this way, but all you could do way lay there and moan pleasurably while taking his pounding. 

“I know, bebita, I know.” He reassures, mockingly. “Just feels so good for you, doesn’t it? My cock is so big and fat, reaching deep inside and fucking you just right like the good little slut that you are. Just like you imagined me to fuck you. I know, Y/N. It’s okay.” 

Yanking your hands away from where he had them pinned, you grab onto his shoulder and wrap your legs around his back, mewling directly into his ear that you’re close. The man skilfully changes his rhythm, keeping his thrusts short and grinding into you, using the hair on his mound to stimulate your clit. “Where? Fuck! Where, cariño?” He asks, nearing his own peak too. 

“Inside. Please, please, inside.” You plead seconds before coming together. White static erupts behind your eyes and your skin burns with heat. The ecstasy floods your bloodstream as the tension in your abdomen unravels. You feel the pleasure wash over your body, making your toes curl and your fingernails dig into the skin around his shoulder, but then, then you feel his release. It’s warm and plentiful, painting your walls with ropes upon ropes as he reverts to a slow grind. 

“Dios mío! (Oh my God).” He whines, actually whines as he rides out the peak of his climax. The sweat clings to his skin, making the brown curls of his hair stick to his forehead as his thrusts becomes sloppy and ragged, as if releasing everything in his ball sac into you. There’s so much that you feel it escaping your pulsing entrance, dripping down to the bedroll beneath your body and making an audible wet sound each time his hips connect with yours. 

As Pero slows and eventually collapses onto your body, breathless and exhausted, you thread your fingers through his hair and pull his head back to look at you. “Hey. You okay?” You ask, concerned, and he nods in reply, unable to form a coherent sentence at this particular moment until he catches his breath. “Good. That’s good, asshole-” You tease playfully with a smirk on your lips. “-Because now it’s my turn to get you back for making me wait so damn long.” 

You roll over, pin his hands above his head and look down at the stunned expression on his face, clearly taken aback, but so fucking hungry for your revenge. And what Pero doesn’t know yet, but will very shortly, is that you’re exceptionally good at edging a man so good that he will cry for mercy. 

That’s exactly what you plan to do - make Pero beg for his orgasm.

-

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[supernaturalgirl20]

Gagging

Pairings: Pero Tovar x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, infidelity, cursing, hair pulling, breeding kink.

Gods, this wasn’t supposed to happen again. It was just a one time thing to relieve some pent up energy from the stress of battling the Tao Tai.

That’s what you both agreed to, right?

And yet here you are again at the mercy of this grumpy sellsword, with hands gripping your hips tight as he pounds into you from behind.

This man.

This sourly, hot headed, dirty, barely able to contain his disdain for you man has you practically screaming his name into the night as he brings you to new heights with his cock.

You moan and mewl and cry out his name like a fucking prayer as he grunts behind you. “Oh gods…oh fuck….Pero, yes….right there…oh gods don’t stop…”

“Mierda! Hermosa, you…you have to be quiet…fuck, so fucking wet…so tight….they’re going to hear you…hear how good I fuck you.” Oh fuck, the way he was he was talking - breathless and strained - had you on the verge of coming again for the third time.

This was a whole new experience for you. No man had ever given you pleasure like this. No man had ever cared. But Pero, oh Pero cared and the more you moaned, the more he thrust into you, encouraged by the noises escaping your mouth.

His hand caresses your skin as it slides over your plump ass and up your back, pushing on your shoulders until your face is buried into the bed.

“Te amo, mi hermosa flor. Si sobrevivimos a esto, te haré mi esposa.” I love you my beautiful flower. Someday, I’m going to make you my wife.

This angle. Fuck.

Gods you can feel him, so deep inside you, hitting that spot over and over that you cry out. “Pero.” You cry out so loudly that William has called through the door to ask if you're ok?

Pero’s thrusts halt abruptly and you turn your head in question. Your gaze lingering on his torso, taking in the toned muscles of his stomach and the sheen of sweat that now covers them, his hair a tousled mess.

“Pero? What are you…” He’s rummaging around for something - all the while still buried inside you - and when he finds what he’s looking for, he turns his gaze back to you with a growl. He grabs onto your hair and pulls until your back hits his chest.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” William calls from behind the heavy wooden door - one Pero made sure was locked before he devoured your mouth with his.

“She is more than alright, amigo.”

“Pero? What are you doing in Y/N’s room?”

“Vete a la mierda, amigo. Fuck off, my friend. Unless you wish to join?” You can hear William clearing his throat before muttering under his breath, the sound of his footsteps fading in the hallway. Pero’s hand cups your cheek as he plies open your mouth only to shove a rag into it. Making sure it’s good and deep.

“What are you..” you say, the sound completely muffled from the rag now gagged in your mouth. His chapped lips kiss the skin of your neck, his teeth nipping quickly before he whispers, “now you can scream as loud as you want, mi amor. No one will hear you.”

You're pushed into the bed again and he begins to move. His hips thrusting into you, ramming you into the bed. The sound of skin slapping and the wet squelch of your cunt fills the room and you moan loudly as your body shudders from another orgasm.

“Mierda! I’m…I am going to…fuck, where? Where do you want me, amor? Want me to fuck you until you are full of me? Fuck you until your round with me. Would you like me to put a baby in you?”

You nod your head, your cunt aching to be filled by him. To feel him drip out of you as you joined the other for super. Consequences be damned. He groans loudly, his hips faltering as he fills you up before pushing forward and slumping on top of you.

“That was amazing, hermosa. You take me so well. Fit like a glove.” He slips out of you, his softening cock glistening with your combined juices. His lips caress the skin of your back softly before he moves you, flipping you over so you’re facing him.

His hand comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb rubbing circles there and his eyes flicker between yours and your lips before he slowly leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

“So much for it being a one time thing. Guess we just couldn’t help ourselves.” His hand travels down your stomach, past your belly button to cup you there. Oh, you yelp. “It was never going to be a one time thing, hermosa. Not with this delectable cunt. Eso, y me estoy enamorando de ti.” That, and I’m falling in love with you.

“What? What did you say?” You say looking at him with admiration in your eyes. “I will tell you someday but not tonight. Now sleep, mi amor.”

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 @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @hungrhay

Pero Tovar: @paulalikestuff @hb8301 @djarinslove @almaeunice @readsalot73 @a3trogirl @loonymagizoologist @absolutegeek @absurdthirst

#pedro pascal #pero x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #kinktober 2022

[whiskeynwriting]

Gluttony

Warrior!Pero Tovar x Curvy!Female Reader

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Word Count: 14k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) again, there's a lot lol

food play (I never know what to call this), alcohol consumption, dirty talk, praise kink, innocence kink, size kink, virginity, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, cum play, mentions of war, mentions of sex work, reader is a little curvy, slight body insecurity

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A/N: Jesus Christ writing for Pero is just always so good. 

Co-written with @phnyx, beta-read by both her and @fishingforpike I love you both you amazing people

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It’s overwhelming, the entirety of it all. The atmosphere loud and bright, jolly and full of life. To think of a celebration that could compare to that of tonight would be to recall events that happened before you were even born. And while your senses have been stimulated to their limit, you can’t help but enjoy the night. 

The prediction for war’s end had been nowhere in sight, not a single soul had the slightest clue as to when the men would return. Husbands, uncles, brothers and sons, all gone in order to preserve the place they call home. It was valiant, honorable, and although many women worried, they often boasted about how proud they were of them. And now that they were home, no one could contain their joy. 

There was hardly any time allotted for you to prepare. Due to the soldier’s swift victory and even swifter return, you had less than a week to prepare for their arrival. Being that your tavern was the biggest in your small village, it was obvious that the celebration would be held here. You, being a servant at the establishment, were expected to not only attend but work. And you did so happily. Not only were you delighted to welcome the soldiers home, you were thrilled to welcome the hero home.

“When are you going to work up the nerve to visit him?” Another barmaid, Lucia, asks you. 

“I don’t know.” You playfully snap, your cheeks becoming hot just at the thought. 

“Your job is to fill cups,” She reminds you. “And his will need to be filled very soon.”

You know this, of course you do. Every soldier here was enjoying the feast, but no one was stuffing themselves like he was. After all, he is the guest of honor. You sigh while watching your friend walk off, on to fulfill her duties. You’d be wise to fulfill yours, too. 

Every seat in the house is taken, the tables full of meat and bread, aged cheeses and wines, honeyed meads and expensive fruits. Desserts were to be served, too, although the hero of the night already looked to be getting his fill of sweets.

He’s not yours, he’s not anyone’s, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy when you see the women surrounding him. As soon as he stepped inside, he was offered whores left and right; one of the many tributes offered to him tonight, alongside coins of both silver and gold and the grand feast currently being served. He was the reason they returned home so early, the reason they left the battlefield victorious. He should expect this, to be showered in praise and love, complete adoration for protecting the town and bringing the men home. Just because it’s expected, doesn’t mean you can’t feel a bit covetous. Although, while you hate to admit it, those women have so much more to give him. They have experience in pleasing men, he’ll be happy with them. 

 “Are you waiting for specific instruction?” Priscilla, your boss with quite the heavy accent, suddenly asks. 

She comes up from behind you, surprising you into a quick jump. She places both hands on her hips, raising an aggravated eyebrow at you. 

“Hm?” She continues to question you, but you just stand there, unsure of what to do. “Go!” She then shouts, turning you around with her hands. “Fill their cups; do what you are told to.” 

With a small gasp, you turn, shoved forward by one of her incessant hands. Stumbling onward, you take a few grounding steps before making your way to the head table with confidence. Or at least, what you can muster of it. 

The feast smells delicious as you make your way through the crowd, walking down the aisles between each table. The meat has been prepared excellently, the smells of garlic and herbs wafting through the air. Sweet notes are also mixing with the smells from the various alcohol and fruits being served around you. You hadn’t eaten yet, not tonight, and won’t be able to until the celebrations have died down. After that, you’ll get table scraps. And even though your tummy is now growling hungrily, the topic of food is quickly shoved to the back of your mind once you see him. 

He sits in the center of the table, laughing while surrounded by his friends. Women sit on either of his armrests with one standing behind him. They each have at least one hand on his body, stroking his shoulders and arms and chest. And he looks magnificent, still adorning his armor only now it has clearly been shined. It’s bright, the metal gleaming due to the surrounding candlelight. You wonder if he’s been bathed since being back home. And then, you find yourself wishing you were one of the tavern staff. Surely that was one of their duties to tend to. 

“Girl!” A man to your left shouts, startling you. He chuckles. Looking toward him, you realize he’s holding up his mug, an expecting look on his face. 

“Of course,” You manage a smile, shuffling a bit to the left to pour more wine into his cup. And then, you turn to face him, the man of the hour. “Ser?”

Pero looks up to you, a jovial smile on his face. The women continue to caress him, his broad, dominant hand holding one of their naked thighs. His eyes run over your figure, his smile remaining. And then, they dip down to the jug in your hand, giving it a single nod.

“What is it?”

“Wine, ser.” Already, you’re glancing down. You’re nervous, you can’t help it. 

Ever since Pero had been gone, things were boring around town. He was the main thing you and the other women would talk about. Pero wasn’t exactly a friendly man, although he seems to be tonight. But even so, none of you minded. In fact, that only added to his allure. He was quiet, stoic, and stern with other men. His complexion was dark and to say the least, he appeared quite mysterious. How could anyone deny the appeal of a strong, brooding warrior protecting your town? And now, he’s considered to be a hero, as if there were anything else that could make you more attracted to this man. 

Grabbing his cup, he holds it out to you. “Gracias, hermosa.” (thank you, beautiful)

Leaning forward with a gracious smile, you tilt the jug until the blood-red liquid begins to trickle out. But all too quickly, it runs short.

“Oh,” You frown, and so does he. “I’ll, I will return with more.” 

This makes him grin. Attentive, the word floats through his mind. And dutiful, too. He likes that he didn’t have to ask you. 

While turning away, Pero’s eyes fall to your hips’ elegant sway. He’d eyed you throughout the night, at first only because he was curious as to why you’d not come to give him more wine. But when he saw you, he was interested in more than just the fermented fluid. Licking his lower lip, those dark brown orbs follow your waistline, your backside, those pretty legs strutting along as you fulfill your duty to serve him. He wonders if you could serve him in more ways than this. 

You seem to have stirred some distaste with the woman surrounding this honorable man, because upon your return, you’re greeted with a multitude of glares. Pero is speaking with another man when you come back, so instead of interrupting him, you simply lean forward to fill his mug. 

“You brought two?” He raises both eyebrows, immediately returning his attention to you. He even leans forward, removing his hand from the woman’s bare leg. You figured you might as well offer him more than just wine now that you’ve worked up the courage to. 

“Yes, ser.” You hold up one jar, “Red wine,” and then the other. “And honeyed mead.” 

“Fill my cup with red and I will try the mead next.” 

Nodding, you do as he requests. This time, instead of returning to his conversation, he stares at you, watching you pour the liquid into the cup he’d been drinking from throughout the night. 

And then, he feels compelled to ask. “Why is this the first time you have served me tonight?”

Swallowing down your anxiety, you return to your upright stance, the nerves that were once subsiding now coming back with an evil vengeance. Your face runs hot, and it’s noticeable, too. But it only makes him smile at you. 

“I, um, my apologies, ser.” The women around him laugh quietly at you. They’re clearly older than you, too, and you can’t help but feel inferior to nearly everyone around you in this situation. Averting his gaze, you set one of the pitchers down, rubbing your outer arm.

“I, well…”

“Do I make you nervous, little one?” 

That nickname returns your shy eyes back to his much more confident ones. Daring a glance at the other women, you return your look to the ground before inevitably nodding. 

“Why is that?”

“You’re so… it’s impressive. Your strength, your battle strategy…” Your heart is pounding in your chest, thundering in your ears. 

“Do you think I will use either trait against you?” He muses with a teasing grin. His words seem to lighten the mood, bringing out a bashful smile in you. 

“No.” You mutter with a smile, shaking your head. 

He continues to eye you, briefly biting down on the corner of his lower lip before making another decision. Placing both hands on one of the women’s hips, he ushers her off the armrest she’d be sitting on. She scoffs lightly, mouth gaping at him in shock. But he pays her no mind.

“Come,” He offers, gesturing to the now empty ‘seat’. “Sit.”

“Oh, I, I would love to, ser. But I…” Turning, you look back at the bar. 

“Worrying is for the wretched,” He insists. “Tonight, you will dine with me.” 

“A-Are you sure?”

“Niña linda” He almost coos to you, and his tantalizing accent draws your gaze right back to him. “Sit.” (pretty girl)

Setting the second jug on the head table, you awkwardly make your way to the other side, passing the rejected woman on the way. With a tight breath, you slowly begin to maneuver yourself up onto the armrest beside him. You feel like a prize he’s won, and as misogynistic as that feels, you find yourself loving it. 

Scoffing, Pero notices your struggle. “Come here, hermosa.” Wrapping an arm around your waist, he easily hauls you onto the thin wooden surface, snuggling you close to his side. (beautiful)

“Oh,” You gasp quietly, feet instantly lifted off the ground. His sheer strength astonishes you, and truthfully, makes the space between your legs burn bright. 

Your hair is tied back in an extravagant braid, your face and body cleanly, smelling of fresh linens along with notes from the white lilies and violets you always keep in your room. Your outfit is clean, the colors bright, the outline well hemmed, too. You put a great amount of effort into your appearance tonight, and Pero can tell. But you look nothing like the other women surrounding him. Their hair drapes elegantly over their shoulders and down their backs, truly highlighting their beauty. They are dressed in little to nothing, some wearing jewelry, too, bracelets and necklaces likely bought for them by other men. And beneath your clothing, your body was dissimilar, too. These women had small, perky breasts, thin bodies with tight skin. They looked like goddesses among men, their chest and stomachs smooth, taut backsides with muscular thighs. And although you didn’t eat often, you’re aware that you’re bigger than them. You have a larger bust and backside, a bit of a tummy with wide thighs. Altogether, you didn’t think you even compared. Why did he want you? 

“Surely you won’t need them all.” You hear a soldier declare, becoming a bit louder in his conversation with the prized warrior - who still has his arm around your waist, by the way. 

“No,” He sighs, taking a large swig of his wine. “I suppose I won’t.”

“Then which do you want?” He offers, leaning back in his seat as he gestures to the three of you surrounding his chair. “Take your pick.” But Pero doesn’t even look around. 

“They’re beautiful, each of these tributes.” He grins, flirtatiously raising a brow. “But I know what I want. Village whores cannot give me that.” 

“What is it that you want, Tovar?” The man leans forward to rest his forearms on the table, genuinely curious as to what his brother in battle will say.

“I do not wish for a brazen woman.” Pero states, shaking his head. And to this, you listen in. “I want an untouched woman.”

“A virgin.”

“Sí, mi amigo.” Comes his almost eager response, his voice enticingly low. “A woman pure, innocent…” Slowly, he turns his head to you. “Unclaimed.” (yes, my friend)

Gulping, you do your best not to curl in on yourself, to not shy away from what you’re certain isn’t the truth. You were not a tribute for this man, you’re simply here to fill his cup. Surely there is another he could want, any woman aside from you. Why would he want you? You’re probably just here for him to make a show, to boast about how many women he can have on his chair. But if that were true, then why did he get rid of that other woman and replace her with you? Why not keep the both of you? 

Amidst your rambling thoughts, you feel the prod of Pero’s pointer finger, placing itself just below your chin. Slowly, he turns your head, forcing you to look at him. And then, his gravely, baritone voice speaks. 

“Have you been claimed, dulzura?” (sweet girl) 

You’d always assumed that a man would want a woman with experience, someone who could guarantee pleasure for them. But what you didn’t know was that Pero wasn’t like these other men. He liked his women to be virgins. He wanted to be the first one inside them, the first to show them what it felt like to be taken by a man. Pero wanted to hear what they’d sound like while being touched for the first time, touched by his hands, his fingers, his mouth, his cock. They always made the most beautiful noises, always sang the most eloquent songs. And for some reason, Pero could just tell, he just fucking knew no one had ever laid a single finger on you. You’re too shy to have been fucked, properly at least. And while there have been times where Pero has been offered multiple virgins at once, he’d denied this, too. He didn’t need multiple women to indulge in, he just needed one woman who was willing to do whatever he asked of them. 

“N-No…” It’s a quiet response, your eyes wide and innocent as his finger stays beneath your chin. 

Happily, the warrior chuckles, immediately pulling you into his lap. Your gasp this time is loud, causing a number of heads to turn in your direction. But you don’t have enough time to count them before Pero’s broad hand is on your face, turning you to look him in the eyes once again. 

“I will claim you tonight.” He’s leaning forward, towering over you and looking into your eyes with a passion you’ve never before seen directed at you. 

“Are… are you sure?” Finally, you find your voice, albeit slightly shaky. “You want m-me?”

“Hermosa…” He grins, thumb swiping across your cheek. You feel like a small child being coddled in his lap, the way you’re sitting, laying across the tops of his broad thighs. “I want you.” (beautiful)

Shuddering at the sudden arousal shooting through your body, you nod, almost whimpering beneath his passionate gaze. 

“What, um… what does that mean?” 

Again he grins. “Beautiful.” 

It seems that the other women don’t quite understand his message. He’s chosen the woman he wants for the night, and still, they continue touching him. The woman standing behind his chair slides both palms down the front of his chest, feeling her own brew of jealousy. And the woman to his right feels the same, looping her arm around his bicep to hold him tight. They want his attention again. 

“Enough.” He almost angrily declares, looking to his side. “No more of this.” 

While they’re unable to protest, they certainly want to. They’re shocked and honestly angered by his choice. It’s his first night back, how could he reject them like that? Every soldier in here would sacrifice themselves for the chance to lay in bed with more than one whore, and he’s pushing them away like they’re nothing? And for you? 

“Are you hungry, sweet girl?” Pero can tell you’re kind. “Have you eaten?” 

His question surprises you, so much so that you’re practically unable to form words. No one ever asks you this. The only time you’re given food is when you’re tossed the occasional basket of leftovers from the tavern, but nothing more than that. 

“I, well I, I will eat later tonight. I should, anyway…”

“No.” Comes his instant response. “You will eat now.” 

Those strong hands fall to your hips, moving your body so you’re now sitting up on his lap. He urges you to lean back against him, and you do, crossing your legs and draping them across his knee. 

“Have you had wine, princessa?” He asks, pulse hammering in his veins. He wants to know just how untouched you truly are. (princess)

You shake your head no, following your response with a small correction. “I’m no prin-”

“Tonight,” He interrupts, looking deeply into your eyes. “You are.” 

Adrenaline fizzles inside your veins as he lifts his cup to your face, a small request of drink drifting from his lips. While keeping his gaze, you allow the liquid to flow into your mouth and oh, he likes that. 

“Perfecto…” It’s hushed, said as if he is in a state of amazement. He has successfully delivered a new experience to you, one of many to come. (perfect)

He goes on to offer you the food from his plate, plucking grapes from the vine before popping them into your mouth. And he continues to feed you, holding you with his free arm while watching you take every bite. 

“You must be hungry too, my lord.” In a bold move, at least for you, you place a hand on his armored chest. And he hums at this; you’re getting more comfortable with him. 

“Sí, pequeña.” And when you look at him questioningly, he chuckles. “Yes.” (yes, little one) 

“Will you… can I…” 

He just grins. “The meat first, princessa.” (princess)

Although you’d been fed fruit, cheese, and bread, Pero’s plate remains more than halfway full. You stick his fork into a slice of meat, offering it to him. There’s something so intimate about this, about caring for the other in this way; you’ve never been cared for like this. And he keeps eye contact the entire time, his beautifully full lips taking the food from your delicate fingertips. And when he drinks from the mug you bring to him, you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows it down, a small trickle of the wine flowing from the corner of his mouth. And the longer this goes on, the more ravenous he seems to become. He requests his plate be filled twice more and then a third, replenishing both of your bellies as the night grows late. 

“The mead, now.” He requests, breathing heavily against you. 

His eyes lower, gawking at the swell of your breasts as they rise and fall with vigor. You’re enjoying this, too. 

To complete this request you must step off his lap, bending over the table to reach the pitcher and bring it back to his now empty cup. Pero has yet to touch you since you’ve been resting on him, but now, he reaches out, smoothing a hand over your lower back. It sends tingle through your spine, washing every inch of your skin in an incredible sensation that leaves a shiver in its path. He smiles when he sees it. 

“I like the way you dress…” He murmurs, pressing his curved nose to your cheek when you sit back down. And you’re smiling now. 

“Every maid is dressed like this.” You giggle in response, watching the brown liquid flow into his cup. 

Again, that broad hand finds your face, turning you to look into his eyes. 

“I like the way it looks on you.” He very clearly states, his words making your chest squeeze tight. You’re flattered, incredibly so. 

Pero’s eyes dip down to your lips when your tongue pokes out to lick them, and you notice this quite obviously. Quickly, they flicker from your own precious orbs back to the pillowy softness of your mouth, a hand rising to the back of your neck as he begins to lean in. Your own hand returns to his chest, allowing him to guide you forward to meet him. And once you do, a firework is set off inside you. It’s the first time a man has kissed you, and for it to be him? How lucky are you…

“Pero,” you gasp when he surges forward for more, the first kiss sweet but the ones afterwards quickly becoming heated. 

But he doesn’t let you speak, he just pulls you into him again, holding you against him. Your first true, sexual moan floats out of your throat and directly into his, a wetness pooling between your legs when you feel the beginnings of his tongue sliding in. The hand you’d timidly placed on his chest rises to his face, cupping his jaw while he kisses you breathless. He tastes of the meat and wine he’d been devouring all night, but you don’t mind. You find yourself liking it, actually. 

This is what he wanted, this is the excitement he’s fucking needed. He can tell by your reaction that a man has never handled you this way, never pulled you into him to claim your lips with his. And he does so beautifully, gracefully, slipping the wet muscle of his tongue inside and swiping it across your own. And your moan, that girlish, wanton moan, finally makes you realize just how aroused he truly is, the feminine noise provoking a hardness to rise from his lap. 

“Pero,” You say again, breathing harshly against him. And this time, he lets you speak, allows you to breathe. 

“What is it, preciosidad?” He nearly begs, ducking his head down to your neck. (precious girl)

Suddenly, you realize just how public the space you’re in is, and you feel flush all over again. Biting your lip, you do your best to suppress your moans, but he notices. And he isn't a fan of it. Reaching up, he tugs your bottom lip out from the hold of your teeth. 

“Do not hide it from me.” He demands darkly. But he sees your sideways glance, knowing that you’ve now become nervous in your current setting. “Let them hear.” He nearly growls into your ear. “By the end of this night, you will belong to me.” 

This gasp is much louder, feeling him bite down on your earlobe with his teeth. And then he returns to your neck, his talented lips dragging over your skin. His ardent passion makes you giggle, the brazenness of it all forcing your excitement to new heights. 

“I want to indulge in you, hermosa.” He whispers gruffly to you, both hands holding you tight. One moves down to your thigh, squeezing the sweet flesh of it harshly. “I will see if you are as sweet as the wine you have served me.” (beautiful) 

But then, he hears a small rumble in your belly. Truth be told, this was the first time you’d been fed in days. And upon hearing the sound, he lifts himself from your neck. 

“You are still hungry?” There’s a hint of worry in his eyes when he asks. But you don’t want to be a burden. 

“No. No, I am fine.” But he sees right through you. 

“Have more bread, you tiny thing.” He then insists, reaching out for more before bringing it to you. And how can you resist? “Have you had mead, sweetling?” 

While chewing the bread, you shake your head. “You will try it with me.” But after filling his cup, he doesn’t bring it to your mouth. Instead, he takes a swig himself.

“I want you to first taste it from my lips.” It comes out breathily, his hand falling to your cheek to bring you into him once again. And you let him. 

The taste is bitter, yet overwhelmingly sweet. Regardless, you open your mouth to him once you’ve swallowed your bread, sighing out a romantic breath as his tongue claims dominance over yours once again. 

Absentmindedly, you wonder if you’ll be scolded in the morrow. After all, you’ve neglected your duties, having completely left your station. While the man of the hour is able to protect you from any repercussions tonight, what will happen to you when daybreak hits and it’s only you once again? But you shouldn’t worry about such things. It’s like Pero said, worrying is for the wretched. 

“Drink.” He demands again, wanting your belly to be as full as his. 

He brings his cup to you, and although the mead wasn’t to your taste, you drink, just because he said. All too quickly, you find yourself gulping the alcoholic nectar down, feeling it buzz through your system as the celebration continues. And he’s becoming far too feral, leaning in as soon as he sees a dribble of mead spill from your lips. Sloppily, he lays his tongue out over your jaw, licking over your cheek and up to your mouth. 

“Pero…” Comes your girlish sigh, still unable to believe he’s chosen you. 

“Tovar has found his precious flower.” One of the men jokes off to the side, another one quickly chiming in. “Flower? What happened to that beautiful garden?” 

You expect Pero to continue obsessing over you, but to your surprise, he speaks up. “I am this village’s hero, you all owe me your life.” Breathing heavily, he gives you one last kiss before pulling away. Looking into your eyes, he loudly says, “I have the money to buy every woman this town has to offer, but none of them…”

Lifting his hand, he grabs your angelic face once again. You smirk as he pinches your cheeks with his fingers and thumb, his palm resting directly below your jaw. And then he gives you a little shake, grinning widely while proclaiming, “None of them are as good as this one.” 

And it’s true. He’s never had a reaction like this with another woman before, virgin or not. He’s never obsessed over a woman like this in public, not while surrounded by so many people. Pero was a private lover. But the atmosphere adds something quite special to the mix. And besides, you yourself are quite the special thing, too. He’s had whores react to him this way before, but… not a virgin, not a woman with a pureness like you. 

Since pulling you into his lap, Pero thought about bringing you back to his lodge. He’d been gifted a lovely cabin to stay in as a permanent residence, one that will do quite nicely for him. It will even accommodate a family, if he so chooses to have it. 

“Ser?” Lucia walks up to the head table, offering him a large plate of hot desserts.

Smiling, he pushes his dinner plate aside, making room for the dishes. She eyes you as she sets them down, taking each one of the serving plates and presenting them to Pero. Before turning away, she gives you a wink, a small gesture that makes you remember just how lucky you are. As if you needed to be reminded. 

“What do you like?” Pero turns to ask you before he’s even had a bite. “Tell me what you want.” He whispers it against your cheek, making your smile pull even wider. 

“The um…” Scanning the table, you come across your favorite dessert. “The custard, the caramel one.” 

Immediately, he reaches out, scooping a spoonful of the delicacy up and bringing it to your lips. Happily, you open your mouth, watching as he then feeds himself from the same spoon. Custards of other flavors are served, too, along with puddings, tarts, and marzipan cakes. And he indulges in them all, with you right at his side. 

Servants gather the coins that have been offered to him by townspeople giving thanks, collecting them so they may be stored in his new home. And then you wonder, where is his new home? Surely he has been gifted a great lodge. Will he bring you to it?

“Arthur,” Your hero suddenly calls, “Ready the horses.”

A servant to his right steps forward, nodding before scurrying off and out through the doors. You’ve all but finished your food, having stuffed yourself like never before. And you wonder, what will he think of you like this? When he undresses you? You were nervous before but, now with your stomach full of food, you’ll appear even bigger than the other girls. 

Abruptly pulling you from your thoughts is Pero’s large hand, landing on your face once again. He pulls you into him, digging the tip of his nose into your cheek as he grunts. 

“Do you want me, hermosa?” He grits out passionately, digging his fingers into your cheeks. (beautiful) 

He’s drunk by now, and more than ready to take you home. All you can do is whine and nod, his grip not allowing you any other option. He growls, diving in to mouth at your lips. You moan into him, the sound making him happier than ever. Your hand rises to his neck, curling around to card through his unruly hair. 

“I will claim you tonight.” He breathes out, his voice rough and energetic. “You will be mine.”

“Pero,” Comes your high whine, pathetic in nature. “Please…”

“You want me to?” He smiles brightly against you. “You want me to ruin you? Ruin you of your innocence? Your purity?”

“Yes.” It’s instantaneous, your response, and it makes him all but lose his goddamn mind. 

The celebration will last for days, this is only the first night. So, his exit is discrete, standing and taking you by the wrist as he leads you away. Excitement stirs in your belly as he does it, bringing you out into the coldness of the night. It’s snowing out, the flakes decorating your eyelashes and hair. He smiles at the sight, leaning down to sweep you off of your feet and into his arms.

“Are you cold, sweetling?”

“Yes.” You nod simply, reaching out for his face, fingertips stroking his facial hair. 

“Come then,” he coos to you. “Come with me.”

It’s not like you’d actually say no, and you’re already in his arms anyways. And if you thought he was strong when he pulled you up onto his chair, it’s nothing compared to now. He picked you up as if you were a single feather floating in the wind, his movement easy and almost careless. But he cares; you’re a fragile thing. 

The servant dubbed Arthur stands beside the carriage clearly waiting for him, and it is a grand one indeed. Decorated in firm, dark oak and glimmering gold adornments, led by four horses, each colored as black as night. It’s an enchanting form, and your breath is fully taken away once the door to it is opened.

Stepping inside, Pero sets you down on a bench opposite the one he takes. And when you sit up to take it all in, you grin. This is the fanciest space you’ve ever been in. Candles hang from the ceiling, each lit inside a glass ball to protect them. The benches are decorated in rich velvet, the color matching that of the horses. There are gold embeds in each cushion with pillows all along it. In the very center of the space is a rug leading to the carriage’s door, with a window on either side of it. 

“This is… amazing.” Pero chuckles; he thought so when he first saw it, too. 

“Come,” He calls softly for you. “Sit beside me, princessa.” (princess)

And you do as you’re told, returning to his lap and leaning into his firm body. Those wandering hands return with much more excitement now, his fingers grazing the hemline along your bust. 

“What is your name, hermosa?” He questions quietly, kissing along your neck. “What should I call you, hm?” (beautiful) 

Internally, you feel subconscious about him grabbing your sides, feeling overly full at this point. But he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, he reaches around to grab your belly and hips, a smile growing on his face. And when you tell him your name, it only makes that smile grow. 

“Pretty name,” He mumbles, one hand trailing down to the space between your legs. “For a pretty girl.” 

“Hm…”

“Tell me,” Pero then says, cupping your clothed sex. It makes you gasp, the sensation of it. “What do you think of me?”

He knows you're excited, but he knows you’re nervous too. And he wants to make sure you want this, want him, want what he’s about to do to you. 

“I think you’re…” Your words fall short when he begins to rub you. It feels electric, like a zap of lightning shooting through you. Your smaller body presses back against him, feeling a small hum vibrate through his chest. “So handsome.” You eventually finish, releasing a tight sigh.

“You do?” Pero leans in, kissing the shell of your ear. “Tell me more.”

You hadn’t even noticed it, but you’re moving. The carriage had taken off just as Pero began to touch you, his hands an easy distraction. You’re not sure how long it’s been since the carriage left your tavern, but your town isn’t big. You’ll be arriving at his cabin shortly. 

When you don’t immediately go on, his grip on you tightens, a heated breath forcing its way out of Pero’s nose.

“I said more, hermosa. Will you do what I ask of you tonight? Hm?” His words come out stern and you feel an incredible need to please him. (beautiful)

“Yes, I will. I promise, Pero.” Even though your mind betrays you, this is real. And while you have him, you want to make the most of it. “You’re so handsome, so charming. The girls and I, we… don’t know much about you.”

Subconsciously, your hips wiggle into his hand, seeking more pressure from his touch. He chuckles. “It feels good, no?”

Mesmerized, you look down at his hand, your cheeks burning with shame. “Yes…”

Pero’s free hand then rises to your chest, finally fondling your breasts. He grabs one in hand, groaning when you gasp in shock. Pleasure spikes in your nipples when his thumb brushes across one, and you can’t even imagine how wonderful it will feel when the barrier of fabric will no longer hide your body from him.

“We are nearly there, little one.” His breaths are surprisingly calm, his words calculated. “Tell me this one thing, before we arrive.” 

“Yes?” You return, intent on pleasing him. 

“Do you want more of me when we are inside?”

His question makes you gulp. Of course you do, of course you do. But you’ve never done this before and you don’t know how to say it, you don’t know how to be sexy when you talk to him. So all you reply with is, “I… I do.”

He isn’t happy with your simple answer, so he prods for more. Looking out the window, he can see the cabin nearing. 

“What do you want then, hm? My hands?” Slowly, he rubs your covered core, feeling the muscles in your thighs shake. “My fingers, hermosa?” (beautiful)

“Yes,” This time, you respond much quicker, even nodding your head. 

“My body?” He continues on, stiffening below your backside. 

“Oh, yes…” Sighing, you can only imagine what he feels like. Hopefully, you’ll soon know.

“My mouth?” This time, he inhales deeply. It’s been years since he’s tasted a woman between her thighs. But you don’t necessarily interpret it that way. You assume he means he’ll kiss you more, and of course you want that.

“Yes, Pero.” He likes how sweetly you say it; he knows you’ll be saying it more. 

Inside, he shivers. He’s about to say something much more brazen to you. 

“Do you want my cock, sweetling?” And this seems to overwhelm him with an intense urge. Upon your sigh he inhales another breath, groaning it out into your ear as he says, “Do you want it inside you, hermosa? Do you want me inside?” (beautiful)

“Yes,” You practically keen for him, feeling him rub his erection into you from behind. “Yes Pero, please.”

As if on command, the carriage comes to a halt, stopping just outside the warrior’s new home. Eagerly, he stands, picking you up with him. Again, Arthur opens the door, and if he hadn’t come so quick you’re sure Pero would have kicked it open himself. 

Bright flames burn inside you as he carries you to the cabin’s door, and you loop your arms around his neck while he walks, leaning up to kiss his tawny skin. He’s tanned, his skin a beautiful golden tone. It looks glorious on him, this rich shade. 

Once his servant opens the door, Pero marches inside, kicking it shut behind him. And in the throes of your passion, you look up, wanting to see the space around you. Pero’s only been inside once, right before he came to the tavern tonight. Floor to ceiling, everything is either covered in dark oak or rich, reddened velvet. There are gold decorations here and there with lavish furniture in every single room. It blows your mind, the excellence of these rooms. He must have done something truly admirable to be honored with such a space. 

Chandeliers hang from the ceiling as Pero walks throughout the space, taking you directly to the main bedroom. There are beautiful curtains made of thick fabric hanging by the windows too, along with candles that have been lit in every room. But none of it compares to the intimate space he calls his own, the space he’s going to share with you. 

“You are beautiful.” He expresses while laying you down on his extravagant bedspread. Leaning in, he smiles, kissing the space just below your jaw. “I’m delighted to have you.”

“Pero,” Helplessly, you reach out for him when he lifts himself to move away. 

This makes him smirk, chuckling while he begins to undress. And when he does, you quiet down, leaning back on your forearms to watch. He notices this, making a little show of it. His movements are languid, removing his gleaming armor and placing it on a nearby bench. He stands at the foot of the bed as he does it, undressing down to his undershirt and briefs. And your heart stutters in its beat; you’ve never seen a man this way before. Should… should you be undressing yourself, too?

“No,” He answers your silent question, seeing your hands curl around to the ties on your back. “I will undress you, pequeña. Do not lift a finger; let me.” (little one)

Lifting his shirt from his body, you’re met with the incredibly erotic sight of his naked chest. Tanned like the rest of him and adorning a few hairs across his chest. There are some curls leading down his navel, too, and among the hair on his glorious body are also scars. They’re scattered across his body, some long, some short, some wide and others thin. But they astound you all the same. When he steps closer, you reach out to him, immediately brushing your palm across the once-then wounds that have healed yet still remain. 

“And what do you think?” He asks, brushing back some of your hair. His palm lands on the top of your head, his own dropping to watch as you explore.

“Beautiful.” Comes your whispered response, “It’s beautiful… your body…” 

“Then touch more of it.” Forcefully, he grabs your other hand, pulling it closer to him. 

“Oh…” He brings your palm to cup him through his slacks, his head dropping back as he does. Even from the slightest of stimulation, he moans. 

He wants to take his cock out, pull it from the confines of his briefs and make you lick the tip. But he wants you to be the one to do it. He knows you want him, but you’re far too shy to show it. But you’ll need to if he’s going to give you it. Apparently though, you have something else in mind. 

“Will you lay down?” Pero tilts his head at you questioningly. Rising to your knees, you look into his eyes, smoothing your hands down the tight skin of his chest. “Will you lay down for me? Let me worship you like you should be…” 

Pleasantly surprised, he does as you ask, moving to the side and laying down in the very center of the bed. Your passion seems to unravel within you, finally seeing him like this. And it makes you courageous, makes you want to do more with him. 

“Touch me, princessa.” Pero grits out impatiently, watching your innocent orbs flicker up to stare directly into his eyes. “Do you want it?” You nod immediately, swallowing timidly. “Then take it.” (princess)

With your heart thundering inside your chest, you look down, reaching out to grab the waistline of his briefs. He pets your hair lovingly with his dominant hand as you begin to pull, releasing a shaky breath as you do. And he lifts his hips for you, allowing you to undress him completely before you. 

“Yes…”

You don’t expect his erection to bob out of his pants like it does, smacking his lower stomach and making him groan. It makes you gasp slightly, lips parting in devastating hunger as you stare at him. 

“Is this the first time you’ve seen one?” He asks gruffly, reaching down to grab his shaft. “A leaking cock before you?”

And he’s right, he is leaking. He’s uncut and thick, long, too. When he strokes himself he pulls back the skin, revealing his reddened tip. When you see it you whine, exhaling a short and almost pouty breath. 

“You don’t have to sit back, you know.” He teases, watching your enticed expression. “Tonight, this is for you.”

“Pero…” Overwhelmed with emotion you lean forward, placing your hands on either side of his hips. 

Pero watches you dive down to his pelvis, lips landing on the thin skin of his hips. You kiss him here, sloppily too, dragging your beautiful lips along his sides briefly before moving them to his stomach. He’s so toned and warm, your tongue poking out to just barely slide over the bumped-up lines of his scars. You hope he likes it - you know he does. He groans while watching you, licking his lower lip before it drops. 

Your delicate fingers trail over his sides, squeezing his hips and thighs. Soft whimpers escape your lips as you do it, feeling compelled to worship the alluring warrior that saved your home. Grinning, he watches you obsess over him, working yourself up to the point of grinding against his leg. You position yourself over his left thigh, just barely grinding down against him. You feel foolish doing it, like an animal in heat, but you almost can’t help it. How? How did you manage to get your first time to be with him? 

But when you move down to his groin, you’re unsure of what to do next. You’re hoping he’ll guide you, teach you the ways of pleasing a man. He asked for a virgin, surely he would expect to do this? 

“Do you know what to do with it?” He asks lowly from above you. He still has a hand wrapped around his base, his tip throbbing with anticipation as your lips kiss nearly every inch of him. 

“N-No…”

“Hermosa,” Pero leans up, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Do not be nervous, or shy; not around me.” (beautiful) 

This time, he doesn’t force you to look into his eyes, he waits for you to do it on your own. And you do so much quicker this time, a reassuring thing to him. 

“Niña preciosa, you are mine tonight.” He promises once again. “I will make you a woman; do you understand?” (precious girl)

“I do.”

“And will you let me teach you?”

“Yes, Pero…” Your reply is soft, feminine, your hands trailing up his stomach. 

His words make you feel safe and warm inside, they make you trust him that much more. And with that said and done, he brings you in for a kiss, grinning against you. 

“Bueno.” He states, those dark brown eyes opening to look at you. Taking a breath, he then speaks. “Go back down, sweetling.” (good)

You do as he tells you, lowering yourself to his naked sex once again. This time, you get an even better look. You’re much closer than before, settling yourself between his thighs and placing your hands on his hips. 

“Open that pretty mouth,” He says it as he sighs, settling further on his luxurious bed. 

Reaching down, he places his thumb on your lower lip, smirking when you open your mouth for him. 

“That’s it…” Pero whispers to you, the moment as fragile as glass; it’s as if any moment, it could break. 

Both of those broad hands now move to your face, holding your cheeks and bringing you closer to him. With a shaky breath, you move in, whining when the tip hits your lip. He slides in past your bottom lip, now coming in contact with your soft tongue. And when he does, a moan floats from your mouth. 

“Do you taste it?” He asks, a growl rumbling through his chest. “Can you see the mess you’ve made of me?”

“Me?” You babble quietly around his smooth head, and he groans at the sensation. 

“Yes, preciosa - precious girl.” He begins to ramble. “More, give me more. Yes…” 

Staring up at the warrior laid out on this bed, you allow him to pull you closer to his sex. Moving forward, your lips surround his head, now fully in the velvety warmth of your no longer innocent mouth. 

“Suck,” He gasps from above you. “Suck it.” 

And you do, watching as his chest constricts before he moans. Gently, his hips buck up a bit, shoving another inch past your lips. 

“More, pequeña, more…” (little one)

Gods, he’s reveling in this, destroying the purity you once had. His precum pools in your mouth, the saltiness of it landing on your tongue. He can feel the wet muscle move beneath him in the humid cavern of your mouth, slowly but surely sucking more of him inside. But you gag when you’re halfway down, making him groan in frustration. But not with you, with how aroused he’s become. 

“More,” Pero repeats once again. He applies pressure to the back of your head, forcing you down on him. “You can do more… do it again…”

You’ve never had a man in your mouth before, and doing so now makes your panties pool with wetness. It’s incredibly defiling, erotic, something you find yourself wanting more of. And to him, it practically feels like the first time all over again. He hasn’t touched or been touched in nearly an entire year. He’s needed this. 

“Oh,” Pero sighs, lifting his head to watch as you pull away. Situating a pillow to prop his head up, he groans, eyeing the trail of spit you left behind. 

You’d gagged on him again, a wet, sporadic noise that made you pull away. Though not too far; you’re still close enough for him to reach. You’re honestly mortified, you want to please him and you’re now finding out that you can’t. You’ve never seen another man’s cock, but you’d have to be a fool to not realize that Pero was big. Bigger than you expected a man to be. But you’re not stopping here, you want to do more for him. 

He’s still holding his base when you lean in, laying your entire tongue out beneath him. And his brows furrow furiously, mouth falling agape as he watches you lick him. This is something he wasn’t expecting from you, not at all. 

The salty musk of him fills your senses, both your taste and smell. And when you take him back in your mouth again, he removes his hand, returning it to your head. Your own hand replaces his, gripping his base and watching his balls draw up slightly. Pero’s jaw remains dropped, watching as you work him with your hand and mouth. 

“Amor…” Again, a hand finds its way to the back of your head, urging you down to his base. And you go much further this time, suppressing the reflex to gag. “Sí, sí bonita, sí.” (Love… yes, yes pretty, yes)

The suction of your throat around him makes him choke, moaning wantonly from the sensation. And your hand continues to grip him, tightening your fingers around the thickness of his erection. While doing so, you happen to look up, immediately meeting his dark eyes. 

“So good,” He mutters, only to speak louder to you. “You’re doing so good…” 

“Thank you, Pero.” You remove yourself, gasping above him. And while looking down, you see more of the clear liquid pearl out. “I like the taste of it…”

Before he can say anything else, you dive back down, lapping at the liquid. A feral noise is released from his throat, his hips bucking up into your mouth. You engulf him once more, but it’s not long before he removes himself from your throat. Pulling on your hair, he yanks you off of him, hearing your surprised gasp. 

“What did I, did I… did I do something wrong?”

Surging forward, Pero grabs your face with his hand, holding your cheek and jaw as he leans in. 

“Dulzura,” He growls to you, resting his forehead against your own. You’re leaning forward, resting on your palms as soon as he brought you in. “You’re filthy now. You’re going to make me cum.” Eyes dropping down, he swipes his thumb across the pillowy-soft skin of your lower lip. “And I’m going to; right in this pretty mouth.” (sweet girl)

You’re still gasping for air, and fully dressed, mind you. Right now, any and all pleasure revolves around him. And you’re not complaining one single bit. 

His eyes then return to yours, staring right into your fucking soul. “And you’re going to swallow it down, pequeña. Every bit of it.” (little one)

When you don’t respond, he grunts out, “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Pero.”

“Oh…” he grips your jaw harder, baring his teeth briefly before he says, “I love when you say that.” 

And he really does. You’re just so compliant for him. 

“Do you want me to say it more?” You ask sweetly, almost teasingly, and it makes him tilt his head curiously at you. 

“Quite the little minx, aren’t you?” He slowly grins, pulling you in sharply by his grip on your jaw. “I will make you say it more. I will make you beg for more.”

His response makes you whine; how much more could you want this man? 

“Get on your knees for me.” Your warrior then demands. “I want you to taste it.” 

“Taste it?”

“My seed, sweetling, the seed that will soon fill your belly.” And then he kisses you, a harsh and fiery embrace, removing his lips only to say, “Get on your knees.” 

The pulse pounding in your veins seems to stutter a beat when he says this, the imagery of him being inside of you almost too much to bear for your inexperienced mind. Regardless, you return to your knees for him, willingly, eagerly, wrapping your lips around his tip and beginning all over again. Well, not all over again. He’s still hard for you, still aching to be touched to completion. 

“Like that, little thing,” Comes his punched-out grunt, feeling you take him into your mouth much quicker than before. “So eager for me, aren’t you?” He boasts from above, smiling. “So eager for more…” 

Inside your mouth, he pulses against your tongue, his shaft wet and slippery from your spit. You allow it to spill from your lips, drooling over his cock and onto his pelvis. And Pero’s hands return, aiding in the smooth slide of your head as you move up and down on him. Your insides burn with desire, your hips and sex tingling with anticipation. How will it feel when he finally touches you? When he’s inside you? Will he be gentle, or rough? He certainly has the muscles to do whatever he wants, to fuck you into the matress until you’re crying out from it, from him. 

“P-Princesa, do not move.” He begs breathily further up on the bed, his eyes pinching shut as his hips begin to move. (princess)

Forcefully they thrust upwards into your mouth, punching himself down your throat. You gag around him so intensely that you go to move back from him, but his hands keep you down. 

“Stay still, princessa; breathe. Breathe for me.” (princess)

He’s selfish with it, helplessly indulging in his pleasure. His pure instincts are truly gluttonous, seeking everything for himself without concern for others. But he does his best to think about you, to treat you kindly, gently. But not now, not in this moment. He feels his release coming, and he knows where he wants it to be. 

Breathing in through your nose helps to stabilize you, but just as you do, you’re thrown through another loop. Suddenly, a hot rush of liquid fills your mouth, shooting past your lips and begging to slide down your throat. His hips are jerking erratically against you, the strength of his arms allowing you little to no movement and therefore offering no other option than to swallow him. Closing your eyes with a short groan, you do, coaxing the thickness of it down your throat. It’s salty, much saltier than the droplets that slipped from his tip before. He’s pulsing profoundly inside you, throbbing against your tongue as rope after rope is released into your throat. And the sound he makes is sinful to say the least, an incredibly raw and powerful groan forcing itself from his throat. 

Pero can feel your nails digging into his thighs, can feel the soft swallowing sounds as you coax him down. Your nose is nearly touching his base, the curly hairs scattering his pelvis just barely brushing your face. And it makes him grin, the crudity of it, having a virgin suck his cock like this. He’s defiled you, yet again; and he can’t wait to do a thousand more unspeakable things to you all over again. Because tonight, you are for him. 

“Ugh,” He groans loudly, the muscles in his glorious body flexing. 

The remaining remnants of his seed wash over your tongue, trickling out to follow the rest of them down. When the pressure on the back of your head ceases, you immediately release yourself, lifting your mouth off of him. You cough from it, swallowing again as you can still taste him. 

“It was overwhelming,” He sits up, his presence pushing you back a bit. “I know.” Pero’s hand finds your cheek, storking it softly. Your face is flush, your hair slightly a mess, and you look so pretty to him like this. “And you did so well.” He leans in to kiss your cheek, your neck, pushing you further back. “It was perfect, mi niña…” (my girl)

In one swift motion he’s turning and shoving you down onto the bed. You land with a huff, his kind words an incredible distraction to you. His body immediately covers yours, his hands sliding between you and the sheets to grab at your ass. He presses himself into you, mouthing hotly at your neck as he truly begins to give in. 

“You did so well, bonita, you know that, don’t you?” He’s leaving marks on you, little bites of painful pleasure all over your throat. (pretty) 

“Oh…” It’s a small moan, one released with a smile. 

Your body wiggles excitedly beneath him, his praise making your confidence bloom brilliantly inside. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand is removing itself from your backside and sliding down your front. 

“Let me see,” He mumbles against you. “Let me see the beauty of you.” 

Pero’s words make you nervous all over again. Your confidence shrinks just the slightest bit as he travels down your body, untying your small shoes before tugging your stockings off of your legs. Sliding his fingers beneath your dress, he hooks them around your panties to pull them off. 

“Mm, Pero…” You whine, feeling his knuckles just barely brush your sex. 

“What is it, cariño?” He asks you sweetly, though he doesn’t stop his movements nor does he look up at you. He does kiss your calf though, his lips soft and tender against you. (baby)

“Oh…” 

“You’re dripping…” He moans, eyeing the panties he’d just removed from you. Immediately, his hand returns to your still-hidden space, fingers brushing against your naked folds.

“Oh!”

It’s a brief touch though, retracting his hand before you can even experience much. But what he does once he removes his fingers from you… that’s what really gets you. 

“Pero,” You release an astonished gasp, eyes widening as you watch him lick the taste of you. 

It’s a simple swipe, running his tongue along the thick digits he’d used to touch you. You’d never seen a man do this, never even heard of men doing this. And Pero didn’t do this with every woman, not unless they were a virgin. He’d had sex with whores before sure, but licking the intmate space between their thighs? He reserved that for the most innocent women he could find. 

“Sh… you delicate thing.” He murmurs to you, looking deeply into your kind, sweet eyes. “Let me please you, let me see you…” And then his hands are urging you up, fingers quickly fumbling with the strings of your ties. 

He undoes them expertly, easily, watching it fall from your form. He doesn’t even drag it away before he’s gawking at you, at the sight of your naked tits. His eyes widen, the look on his face an entirely new expression. He almost goes soft, sweet, just from staring at you. Leaning in, he says, “Asombrosa…” (amazing…) 

“Pero…” While watching him cup you with both hands, you whine. 

You’re thankful he keeps your dress partly on; it covers most of your stomach. But those grateful thoughts disappear as soon as his hands drop, tugging your remaining clothing away from your body.

“P-Pero, I…” You stutter, hands moving to cover your body. 

As he drops your dress to the floor, he looks at you questioningly. He furrows his brows, but not angrily, curiously, almost worried. 

“What is it, pequeña?” He asks, moving closer to you, his voice quiet and soft. “Have I made you uncomfortable, sweet thing?” Pero could often be selfish but with women, he did his best to keep their inner emotions in mind. (little one)

“No, no,” Not wanting to worry him, you shake your head. But your hands don’t move. “I just, I don’t want you to be… disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” He tilts his head at you. “How could I be?” Leaning in, he places a gentle kiss on your cheek, and it makes you grin. 

“I’m not, I don’t,” Giving up, you release an aggravated breath. “I don’t look like them.” And when you see his unknowing expression, you clarify for him. “The other women that surround you.” 

“No?” He questions, raising a brow. “And what do you look like?” 

“I’m… bigger.” 

“Better.” Comes his immediate response, shuffling closer to you. “More to grab, and bite.” He leans in, nipping at the skin along your collarbone. 

“Do you truly think so?” 

“Hermosa, why do you presume I chose you?” He questions, and it makes you think. “I told you I liked the way you dressed, the way it looked on you.” (beautiful)

Pero’s voice is low and tantalizing as he whispers into your ear, grinning when he kisses the shell of it. “I want you, hermosa.” He clarifies yet again. “How many times must I say it?” (beautiful)

“Pero…”

“Will you let me pleasure you, now?” He asks almost impatiently, but with a grin. He’s teasing. “Show you how true my words are to you?” 

Turning your head to face him, you mirror his delighted expression. Your hands rise to either side of his face, muttering a happy yes before your lips connect. 

Immediately after this, his hands fall to your own, removing them from your curvaceous body. Reading his body’s signals, you lay back for him, watching as he advances. When your head hits the pillow he all but dives in, cupping your breasts again and bringing his lips to them. He moans against you, kissing the soft skin of your chest. And pleasure shoots throughout your body, feeling him fondle you like this. His mouth is warm as it moves over you, mouthing at your boobs before biting them gently. He pushes them together, licking up the valley of your cleavage before sucking one of your nipples in.

“Oh…” Immediately, your hands rise to his face, cradling him as he begins to suckle on your nipple like a newborn babe. It’s erotic, the waves in your hips and lower stomach pulsing inside. “Pero, yes…”

He hums contentedly at your wording, removing his mouth to let his tongue lay out. He runs it across your nipple, over and over again, all while his hand works your other breast. He takes your unattended peak between his forefinger and thumb, tweaking it gently. It makes your fingers dig into his hair, makes your nails scrape softly across his scalp while you whine. 

To your surprise, Pero moves down your body, kissing your ribcage and stomach in the process. It makes you want to curl in on yourself until he shows you how truly glorious he finds the hills and valleys along your god-like form. He squeezes your breasts one last time before his hands too follow the path his mouth has made. And while continuing to surprise you, he then lands between your legs. Gently, he spreads them, closing his eyes and humming quietly as he works. He knows how to please a woman in more ways than one, and he’s excited to show you. 

“Pero, what, what are you…” Curious questions spill from your mouth as you lean up to look at him, wondering what he’ll do. But he doesn’t answer you. Instead, his eyes open, mouth dropping to lay his tongue out against you. You hiss in shock, almost as if you’d touched a surface that had been hot. Your legs twitch beside him, body tensing briefly from the foreign sensation. And he gives you an open-mouthed smile, sliding his tongue up the seam of your soon to be impure sex. 

“Oh…” 

“How does it feel?” He asks, quickly licking his lips. “To have a man's tongue on you?”

While awaiting your answer, he slides a finger into his mouth, keeping his look directed at you. And when you don’t answer he tuts at you, bringing that same digit down to your center. He slides it along your sensitive lips, smirking when you inhale a tight breath. 

“It felt… so new.” 

“Yes?” He asks, tilting his head. You nod, “Yes…” It’s said as he slides his finger into you; you’ve never even put your own fingers inside of you. 

“Oh,” It comes out dramatically once it’s entirely inside you, that cocky grin creeping across his face. 

“This feels good, too?” He asks almost innocently. But he knows what he’s doing to you.

“Yes.” Breathlessly, you nod, feeling him begin to pull it out before sliding it right back into you. “Oh!”

You weren’t expecting his mouth to return, but it does, his tongue flicking across the most sensitive part of your sex. 

“Mm…” The sound is muffled by your center as he presses his face into you. And when he does this, he becomes greedy, ravenous, wanting more of you. 

While he intended to start out slow, it’s not long before he’s shoving another finger into you and feeling the tight clutch of your walls around them. Gods, he knows he’s going to be such a stretch for you. And lord, you’re writhing for him, squirming on his bed while your hands grip his sheets. He has to lift a hand, pressing it onto your lower belly to keep you down for him. He’s punching them up into you, sloppily lapping at your tingly little bud as it shoots pleasure through you. Before long, you’re freeing the bedsheets of your sporadic grabs and replacing the comforter with his hair. Your fingers cling to him, shamelessly shoving him further into you. And he moans, dear god, the sensation absolutely rolling through you. 

It’s all so new, so new and incredibly ethereal to you. Do all men feel like this? Will all men treat you this way? 

“Pero,” It’s an incredibly passionate moan, floating freely from your lips as you sing a melodic song for him. “Pero…” 

“This will prepare you,” He then grunts out against you, his humid breaths fanning over your sensitive skin. “This will prepare your body for me. Such a tight, tight little thing.” 

“Pero, I want you.” 

“I know you do, precious thing.” He coos, smoothing his hand over you. He rubs the thin skin of your lower belly, a loving gesture while his mouth and fingers continue to wreck you. “Relax for me, pequeña. Let me feel it unravel within you…” (little one)

The taste of you is a weakness for him, your tangy essence dripping out onto his hand. You’re so wet for him, he’s almost unable to believe it. He can feel himself rising again, wanting to be inside you, to claim you, to ruin you. 

When Pero crooks his fingers inside you, pressing them up into an all too pleasurable spot, a sensation begins to overcome you; it’s something that almost feels weightless to you. For a moment, you become numb to it all, numb to the incredible pleasure that you’re feeling. Since the moment he’d slid a finger into you, you felt the gradual build of something entirely new, a sensation growing inside that almost frightens you. You can feel it coming, the intense wave washing over you. Ever so slightly, your body curls, your back then quickly arching. 

“I, oh… oh…” You’re not sure what to expect from the first high you’ve ever experienced, but this was more than anything you could have imagined. Your body practically vibrates from it, each limb tightening as your hips now move of their own accord. And Pero only continues, forcing his fingers up against that deliciously delicate spot inside you, all while keeping his lips and tongue pressed to your fluttering heat.

He presses you down, grunting as he brings this euphoria to you. And it flows freely through you, making you grin and giggle quietly as you experience it. A sharp gasp at first, but now a wonderful laugh, a weak one, followed by a chorus of elegant, erotic moans. 

“Beautiful thing,” Comes his hurried breaths, lips moving incessantly as he rambles over your slippery lips. “Doing just what I tell you to…” You really do listen so well. In the same breath he removes his fingers, using both hands to spread open your sex. 

“Yes, yes…” It’s all you can say, over and over again. Your insides feel as though you’re about to burst, the overt brazenness of it all making you lose your absolute mind. 

He leans in, licking into your entrance with small, delicate swipes. And to say you were surprised would be an understatement, though you’re learning to expect the unexpected tonight. He moans boyishly at the taste of your cum, lapping it up as though you were his favorite dessert at the feast less than an hour ago. You can’t believe how much he’s indulging in you tonight. 

Before you can even catch your breath, he’s crawling over you, returning his lips to your jawline and neck. He’s grinning, too. 

“Will you let me?” Leaning down, he gives your shoulder a small kiss while he asks you. He then runs his curved nose along your jawline, filling his nostrils with the smell of your pretty scent while he continues panting above you. “Will you let me take it, princessa?”(princess)

A heated wave washes over your face, your hands rising to his scruffy cheeks as he continues to kiss your body. He grinds himself into you, into the naked space between your legs. 

“Let me take it from you,” He coos, running his nose over the column of your neck. “Let me show you how good it feels.”

“Yes, please.” Gulping, you nod, fingers brushing over the short hairs littering his cheeks. “Take it Pero, take it from me.”

“Mm…” It’s a groan, a long and happy one as he smiles against your throat. 

Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses are placed along your neck, shoulder, and collar bone. You can feel his erection pulsing lightly against you, rubbing it over your inner thigh. And the realization of it all seems to hit you at once. 

“Will,” Your voice is quivering again. “Will it hurt?”

“Maybe,” He responds honestly, lifting himself to kiss your cheek. “But only for a moment, princessa.” (princess)

Pero knows how rough other men can be, and it sickens him. Women are beautiful creatures, things to be cherished. How could a man ever find pleasure from a woman in discomfort or pain? To him, seeing a woman fall victim to the pleasure he brings makes him thrilled inside. He gets off on it, seeing others happy and at peace with euphoria flowing through their body. 

“Do you still want me?” Pero then asks, reaching down to grab himself in hand. He watches your lips part with a small breath when he swipes the head through your folds, furrowing his brows as he takes in your reaction. You nod slowly. 

“Yes…” 

“Tell me honestly.” He prods further, releasing a short grunt when you press your hips upwards against him.

“Yes Pero,” Comes your breathy response, and this time, you grab his face to make him look into your eyes. “Take me.”

A heated breath forces its way past his lips, all but surging forward to connect your mouth with his. He kisses you until you see stars, moaning gently as you taste his spit and feel his plush lips. And while he distracts you with his mouth, he begins to slide in, a slow and gradual movement as you adjust to him. 

“P-Pero,”

“Sh…” He immediately responds, but it’s gentle. “I know, preciosa, I know…” (precious) 

“Oh,” Tossing your head back, you give in to him, taking in a large gulp of air as he continues forward. 

When he’s halfway in he removes his hand, lifting it to hold the back of your head. He hums against you, both of your eyes closed as he experiences you like this, while you experience him like this.

“Take it for me,” Pero whispers to you, pressing his lips to your ear. “Take it just like you did before.” 

His words prompt you to think back to your first act together, when he’d slid himself into your mouth. That was a struggle at first, but before long it was pleasurable, both of you fully enjoying it. And this is just the same. He’s a large stretch for you, a heavy intrusion, but the girthiness of him makes your tummy stir, makes your arousal begin to churn. 

“Will you do it again, princesa?” (princess)

“Y-Yes,” You say it as he bottoms out inside you, listening to the forceful hiss he exudes. 

“So good,” Comes his instant praise, letting himself rest against you, allowing your body to adjust to him. “Such a good little girl for me.”

“Hm…” You smile, pulsing around him. Gently, your fingers run through his hair, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “No one’s ever spoken to me that way.” 

“Only I will.” He declares instantly, “Only me.” And that’s when he starts to move.

Even though it’s a gentle slide, it makes you whine all the same. You smile breathlessly while clenching around him, feeling both of his broad hands make their way down to your ass. He grabs your cheeks harshly while he grinds into you, and the cry you elicit from it makes him choke out a groan. Pero’s heavy and humid breaths return, wetting your skin as he huffs out above you. 

“M-More,” You find the courage to whimper out. 

“More?” He asks incredulously, shocked by your request. 

“More.”

Lowering his head with a growl, he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth before picking up the pace he’s built for you. A shrill whine claws its way out of your chest upon feeling him do so, the steady rocking of his hips continuing with much more force now. He growls against you, the vibrations of it rumbling across your chest while he sucks on you. And his hands roam, too, sliding up from your ass to caress your body, fondle your boobs, feel every single inch of you. 

“Pero, Pero… Pero, ah!” Pressing your head back into the pillows, you cry out for him, genuinely surprised by how well you’re taking him. And he is, too. 

“This is what I’ve wanted,” He admits, “I’ve wanted you.” 

“Ngh,” It’s a harsh, guttural gasp, fingers digging into his dark locks. 

He licks your chest while he fucks you, growling as he becomes more and more pent up inside.

“Your gorgeous body,” He gasps out against you, kissing the plump curves of your chest. “It is mine now, you are mine now, princesa.” (princess)

“I know, Pero.” You exhale a breathy laugh, happy to finally admit it aloud. “I know.” 

He’s doing his best to be gentle while giving into his own needs, too, but in truth, this isn’t enough for him. He’s enjoying you thoroughly but he needs more of you, needs to do more to you. 

“Bonita, mi bonita niña.” He practically begs, removing himself from you. And you cry wantonly when he does, reaching out for him; you desperately crave his touch. “Turn around for me. Please, bebé.” (pretty, my pretty girl) (baby)

It’s almost as if you’re unable to do what he tells you, like your limbs have gone to jelly and your mind is somewhere else. Your body is his, entirely here for him. And it couldn’t be more thrilling to you. 

When he sees your struggle he grins, reaching down to grab your hips. Roughly, he flips you over onto your stomach, hauling your hips high into the air in front of him. 

“Tired girl,” He teases, “You don’t know what tired is, not yet.” It’s a challenge, one that intimidates you. 

Before you can respond in any way, he’s entering you, punching the breath from your lungs even though he does so gently. With a cry of his name, you crumble for him, laying on your forearms while he tightens his grip on your hips. He slides into you much easier this time, though the stretch is still a bit painful for you. But he moves quicker this time around, too, turning any feelings of pain into sweet, unyielding pleasure. 

The sounds that fill the room are the filthiest you’ve yet to hear in your lifetime, the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the wet squelch of your soiled sex, your erotic moans and his forecful grunts. It’s so much more than you ever even dreamed of, and you’ve dreamed of this for so long. 

“Yes…” He grits out, briefly baring his teeth. With one hand he reaches out, smoothing his palm over your back. It does well to calm you, to help you feel comfortable and secure. 

Your body rocks with every movement he makes, shoving you over and over again against the sheets. He’s hitting you so deep, delving into you so hard, it’s as if you can’t even breathe. Every inch of your insides are spasming around him and the act of it all is incredibly overstimulating, even more so when he reaches down you to grab your chest. He’s leaning over you, his firm and muscular torso pressing and rubbing against your back. His mouth returns, too, biting and sucking on the muscles and skin of your upper shoulder and neck. 

“Pero!” You wail, jaw dropping as he continues to hammer himself into you.

He’s grunting into your ear, breathing heavily against you. He’s finally fucking you as hard as he wants to, as hard as he’s wanted to fuck a woman since he’s been gone. 

“A little more,” He pants out from above you. “A little more, preciosa niña, and then I will care for you.” (precious girl)

You’re not sure what he means, and while his brute force is entirely overbearing, you wouldn’t dare ask him to speed up the process or stop. You want this to last; you don’t know if you’ll get this again. 

Pero’s hips jut harshly against you, the strength in his thighs propelling him forward again and again. The hand he isn’t using to lean on fondles you, grabbing your tits and pinching your nipples when he can. It makes the adrenaline and euphoria mix and fizzle inside you, your lungs desperate for air as your fingernails dig into his new sheets. 

“Y-es!”

He smiles when he hears your passionate groan, eyeing the way you clutch his sheets. But his smile is quickly replaced with a look of awe, a genuine expression as he groans forcefully. Pero’s muscles tense above you, his body curling into your own. He holds you tightly to his chest, allowing you to feel every one of his deep and erratic breaths. The movements of his hips become sharp and jagged, unlike the rhythm they’d originally began. 

“Pero…” 

“Stay still,” He quickly demands, still holding you against him. “Stay still for me, cariño.” (baby)

“A-Ah…” You release a stuttered moan, feeling him push your body forward in long, languid rolls. 

He pumps himself into you, pulsing as he finally releases exactly where he’s wanted to. And he smiles as he does it, his chest constricting as he feels his seed flow into you. You do as you’re told, too, staying perfectly in position for him. 

“You did perfectly, bebita.” He praises you, kissing your shoulder while the last drops of him drip inside you. (baby girl) 

“Oh…” You moan, concentrating on the feeling of him flooding your womb. It’s warm, just like it was before, and it makes you shudder beneath him. 

Pulling out carefully, he keeps his hands cemented to your hips. You were tired before, surely you’re exhausted now. And his prediction is right, so, he keeps you up for a moment before gently laying you onto your side. 

“Pero,” You huff out a whine, holding your hands out to him again. “Please.”

He grins, knowing how much you love body contact. And how could you not? He’s so warm and firm, so strong as he rests above you. He brings himself in, looping his arms around your back and sighing deeply while resting his face in the crook of your neck. This is also something he didn’t often receive when laying with whores, intimacy. And he really likes the feeling of it with you. 

“Will you stay with me?” He asks gently, kissing your neck. “Tonight?” 

Pero then looks down, lifting himself slightly. He grabs your dominant hand, kissing the top of it, and then makes his way up your arm, dragging his lips across your collarbone before inevitably returning to your neck. He’s already cum but he’s still so affectionate with you. It’s like he can’t get enough, like he doesn’t want this to be over. 

“I want more of you.” He whispers, kissing your ear while his hot, sturdy body rests above your nearly limp form. 

He isn’t sure what you’ll say, whether or not you’ll accept his offer to stay. But with everything in him, he hopes that you do. He likes you.

“Yes,” It fills your heart with warmth, with joy, hearing him invite you. “Of course I will stay with you.” 

Turning your head to the side, you kiss his temple, feeling and hearing him sigh. “I want more of you, too. I really do.” 

It’s not that he’s overly concerned with your comfortability, but it helps when you reassure him of it. He takes it into consideration, though. After all, he can’t have a good time if you aren’t having one, too.

“You will lay with me, princesa?” He asks with a smile on his face, again kissing your cheek. (princess)

“Mhm,” You nod, moving a hand down to his chest. You feel the overwhelming need to show appreciation for him, for the man he was on the battlefield and that he chose to be tonight. 

Moving with your soft gesture, your position is slowly flipped, mirroring that of the first position the two of you found yourselves in tonight. He watches as you move, happily settling onto his back with a satisfied groan. He finds himself growing tired, too.

“Preciosa,” He calls softly, drawing your attention up to him. “I said I would take care of you.” (precious)

“Well… me first.” You respond girlishly, grinning. And he chuckles at you.

You begin to thank him, slowly working your way down his body all over again. He asks you why you’re being so vocally grateful toward him, and you answer honestly with, “You’ve made me a woman tonight, Pero, and you did so honorably…” Your voice is soft while you speak to him, eyes fluttering shut though his stay open while he watches you work. And you moan happily, sighing contentedly over his skin. You shower him in gratitude, your lips and tongue moving to kiss and lick his scars, his toned muscle and taut skin once again. 

He isn’t even sure if he’ll be able to cum again, but he likes the feeling of your mouth. And he likes the fact that you’re willing to try and taste his seed again. And even though it’s overstimulating at this point, he holds your head when you finally go down on him, bucking his hips up toward your mouth and moaning again. He’s tired, but you want to take care of him.

“Princesa… you are mine now. You are a maiden no more now that you’ve laid with me.” Pero wanting to stake his claim over you continues to excite you, smirking before sucking his tip into your mouth. (princess)

“I’ve ruined you for every other man,” He goes on, declaring something you didn’t at all expect. “And I want to keep you with me.”

Happiness blooms inside your chest. So, this won’t be the only time you have with him? 

Pero begins to babble while your mouth brings him bliss, feeling you sigh while tasting your own slick on him. He tells you how beautiful you are, how erotic it is to feel your body with his, to experience your reactions to him. 

“I’ve claimed you for myself,” Suddenly, he grips your hair harshly, gritting his teeth. “Mine.” 

And then he promises something else to you. “I’ve seen you before, preciosa, you don’t deserve to work the way you do. I will protect you, bonita niña. When I return from the next war, I will return to you.” (precious) ( pretty girl)

“You promise me?” Comes your tiny voice, pretty and no longer innocent eyes looking up at him. This isn’t any small promise he’s making to you. He wants you. For more than just one night. 

“Yes, mi niña.” He sighs, petting your hair with a loving gaze. “I promise you.” (my girl)

#Pero Tovar #baby please #I'm begging #Pero Tovar x you #Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tovar x female reader #Pero Tovar smut #Kinktober #Kinktober 2022 #Sintober #Sintober 2022

[sirowsky]

Day 3, and this one is a panicked rewrite because I was in a mood when I first wrote it. So, please bear in mind that I wrote this in an hour and that it's not proofread, and thank you so much to @lowlights for the prompt, which was "Did you just break my door down!?"

Rating: Explicit 18+ONLY Warnings: Pero Tovar x female reader, reader has no description except wearing a dress, anger, heated argument, smut, modern AU. Word Count: 1200 Sirowsky's Masterlist

--Anger Management--

   He’s in the shower when he hears heavy banging on the front door of his house, but it’s been a really long day and he’s in a bad mood, which for Pero Tovar means that he shouldn’t be around people.    So, he ignores whoever’s out there and carries on scrubbing himself clean of the engine oil that’s soaked into his skin through his clothes.

   But just seconds later, a bang so loud that he fears half the house is coming down, suddenly thunders through the structure, and he all but leaps out of the stall.    He grabs a towel without slowing down, sloppily wrapping it around his waist as he leaves the bathroom and goes looking for the source of what he’s almost certain must’ve been an explosion.

   Instead, he finds his front door hanging off of just the lower one of the hinges, along with scattered debris of what had been the doorframe around the lock-mechanism, all over the hallway floor.    And in the middle of all that, is you. Standing just two feet inside the house, panting hard and with your fists tightly closed against the sides of your thighs.

   You’re quite clearly fuming, but that’s not what Pero is most immediately concerned about.

   “Did you just kick my door down!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?” he berates you, almost screaming as his anger builds, but you’re not the least bit intimidated.

   “Yeah, I did!” you scream back, taking a step closer. “Because you’re a god damned coward and I’ve had it with you!”

   “You broke into my house to call me a coward??” he demands, but he’s actually truly shocked at this entire situation.

   Because while he does know that you have a temper, he also knows that it takes a lot to set you off, and he can’t think of anything that he’s done recently that could’ve triggered you.

   “When you stand me up for the third fucking time, you better believe I’m calling you chicken!!” you retort, and suddenly he wants to kick himself in his own balls.

   You’ve been friends for ages and watched each other go through one failed relationship after another, until you both eventually just sort of gave up.    That had then led to over two years of both of you being mostly miserable, until you’d suggested that maybe it was fate and that you should go on a date with each other.    And once that idea came into his head, Pero had started looking at you differently.

   He had realized that you were pretty much perfect in his eyes, and it had astounded him that he’d never seen it before.    So, six weeks ago, you’d made plans to go hiking your favorite trail together and stop for a picnic at a gorgeous viewpoint at the highest section of it.    But he’d had to cancel at the last possible minute because of work.

   Two weeks later, you’d tried again, keeping it simple with dinner and a movie, and he’d accidentally left you sitting alone in the restaurant for an hour before he’d remembered to call and cancel.    Not because of work that time, but because of a very drunk colleague.    You’d been understanding, but also very disappointed in him.

   So, this time, you’d made plans to meet at your place, which was just a five minute walk from his, and you were gonna make him his favorite dish.    He hadn’t remembered to cancel at all tonight, because he hadn’t even remembered that you’d made plans.    Not even before his car had decided to start leaking oil and distracted him.

   A quick glance at his waterproof wristwatch tells him that you would’ve had dinner ready at least three hours ago.

   “Fuck…” he sighs, knowing that nothing he says is gonna make up for this one. “I’m so sorry, hermosa.”

   You throw your arms out in exasperation, and he can’t blame you.

   “If you’ve changed your mind then just say so,” you growl, but he can hear how the anger is being replaced by the hurt. “I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

   “No, I haven’t… I’m just an idiot,” he says, shaking his head at himself.

   You seem to agree with him there, but you also look like you’re contemplating something.    Then, from one second to the next, all the hurt vanishes from your frame and something determined and strong takes its place.    And in the next moment, you’re crossing the hallway with long and powerful strides, not stopping until you crash into him, grabbing his head and harshly pressing your lips to his.

   Bewildered, he kisses you back, and every inch of his body is suddenly sparking to life.    He wraps his arms around you, ignoring that the towel drops to the floor when he lets go of it, because now that he can finally taste you, he’s instantly bewitched.    Whatever it was that had him in such a bad mood earlier is completely forgotten, and all he wants is just to get lost in you.

   He quickly pulls your dress over your head, finding you already naked underneath, which only stokes his hunger.    Somehow, the bedroom seems a mile away even though it’s just down the hall, so he slips a finger into you while you’re still walking, needing you to be ready for him as soon as you reach the bed.

   You try to wrap your fingers around his hard length, but he stops you, because if you touch him, he’s not gonna make it.    Thankfully, you take the hint and leave him be, and when he slips another finger into you, your pleasure makes you quiver, forcing your hands up onto his shoulders to steady yourself.    Reaching the bed, he pulls his fingers out and quickly licks them to taste you, because there just isn’t time to do it properly right now.

   He pushes you down on the bed and you eagerly climb back into the center of it, spreading your legs for him as he chases after you.    There’s no hesitation from either of you, no question that this needs to happen, that it’s right and good and perfect, so once you’re settled, he finds the heat of your core and dives right in.

   It’s all a little too hard and a little too fast, but he can’t help it. He needs to have you.    And he can feel that same need from you, spurring him on with your heels against the backs of his thighs and your fingers digging into his back.    But that urgency takes you both to your peak within just a couple of minutes, and all too soon, it’s over.

   Still, as he lays there on top of you, trying to find his breath again, feeling that wonderful boneless sensation spread through every part of him, he’s happier than he’s been in a long time. Perhaps ever.    And he smiles to himself when it occurs to him that without your temper, you never would’ve dared to make that first move.

   “Thank you for breaking down my door, querida,” he whispers in your ear, hoping that you know that he’s not just talking about the door, but about his own walls.

<<<<<<<THE END>>>>>>>

Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging so that more people might find it <3

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#sirowsky's 500 followers celebration 🍾 #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x female reader #modern!au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[multific]

Cold Winter

Pero Tovar x Reader

Words: 1.2K

Summary: Spending your first winter with your husband.

A/N: This can be read as Part 2 to my other story or as a standalone. Enjoy~

You could hear him chopping wood outside. You heard as he lifted and then dropped the axe to cut the wood into small pieces.

Winter hit suddenly, as it usually does, but this time, you weren't so prepared.

Unfortunately, your husband decided to spend the time between your legs instead of doing actually useful tasks.

Your chicken was hungry, your horses were fussy and yet he just couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Pero was like a starved man in heat. And you loved him for it. Being married to him for a couple of months now you learned he would sacrifice anything to be with you, and if that meant chopping wood in a snowstorm, then he would do so.

In the meantime, you readied warm food for him and some water so he could take a bath. 

When he finally got back into the cabin, he dusted his jacket from the snow and threw more wood on the fire.

"With this much, we can keep the house warm for a week." he said as he sat down by the table, you could feel his eyes staring at your back, mainly at your ass.

"Cariño, come over here." he said and you heard as he tapped his leg for you to sit, but you just laughed.

"I don't think. I want to make some bread after dinner so tomorrow we can have it fresh. You are just distracting me from my tasks."

"You have no tasks, Mi Esposa. Your task is to keep your husband happy during these harsh months. Winter should be about relaxing and-"

"And not freezing to death. If it was up to you, My Dear Husband, we would still be in bed with a dying fire."

"Maybe the fire in the fireplace was dying, but my love for you is never fading." You turned to look at him. With a small laugh, you shook your head and dried off your hands. But you didn't go to him.

"And since when are you so poetic?"

"Since I have been married to you. You made a swordsman like me settle down, and while I do not miss the thrill of nearly avoiding death every day, I would rather have us in that bed than anywhere else."

"You are the worst. I'm making bread and you will take a bath."

Of course, making him wait was fully intentional, he needed to learn to do his tasks first and then he could have his candy. Much like a child.

You heard him huff behind you, but when you placed the plate of food in front of him, he stopped his fussing and focused more on eating.

Pero loved to eat, and he really appreciated your cooking.

While he ate, you focused on making the dough. Once you were done, you sat down by the table to have your own meal.

"Cariño, I really hope you will join me in the bath."

"I will, but no funny business, I'm rather tired." you honestly just wanted to save yourself from the hustle to heat up new water, but you also knew he had other ideas.

And even if he said he wouldn't, you knew he would definitely try.

Which is exactly why you sat on the other end of the bathtub as the two of you got in. You felt the hot water relax your muscles. It felt really good.

"Eres hermosa mi amor." you heard him say.

"I don't know what that means." it was true, and although you picked up many words from his language, you were not even close to being fluent.

"It means that you are beautiful, my love."

You looked at him, he looked way too inviting for his own good. Dark eyes fixed on you, broad shoulders and chest just above the water, his delicious tan skin dripping with water, and you knew exactly what lurked under the body soap and water. His delicious body which always made sure you found your own pleasure.

You would have jumped right on him if you weren't so tired. Instead, you just started washing yourself before relaxing back into the water, letting it take away all your worries and pain.

You felt his eyes watching your every move, you knew he wanted to wash you but you also knew that he would just whisper into your ear with his hands on you and you would never be able to tell him no.

You felt him move in the water, washing himself as you leaned back a little and closed your eyes.

You stayed like that until you felt the water getting cold. Both of you move out and changed into your sleeping garments, which for him, wasn't much. Even in the cold, he slept shirtless, not that you minded.

Pero put more wood on the fire as you checked if your dough has nicely risen already or not. You let out a yawn just as a pair of hands found their way around you, hugging you from behind.

"Bailar Conmigo." oh you heard that one before even if you had no idea what it meant.

"Wait, don't tell me... you want to...dance?" you asked as he moved his head into the crook of your neck, you felt him smile against your skin.

"You are getting better." 

"I recognize words, but I cannot even say them correctly."

"Let me teach you one, Mi Esposo." you tilted your head as you turned around in his arms, putting your hands on his shoulder.

"Mi Esposo." you repeated after him. "What does it mean?"

"My Husband. You should call me that."

"Oh, and here I was hoping you'd teach me something naughty. And there you go, teaching me something cute and simple, I'm truly disappointed Mi Esposo."

He let out a laugh this time and you smiled.

"What do you want me to teach you?" he asked as he slowly started to sway the two of you. You shrugged your shoulders. Instead, you pulled him down for a kiss. A sweet kiss, not like the ones you shared in your bed earlier. This was a kiss between two lovers to make sure the other knew exactly how much they loved one another.

"Te amo." you said when he pulled away and he smiled again, hugging you close.

He slowly walked the two of you to bed, laying you down before getting under the covers himself and pulling you close.

He was the only reason that made this unbearably cold winter manageable.

Warmth.

He was so warm, so inviting and so calming. He was your home, your husband. You loved him so much.

"Good night, te amo, Mi Esposa," he said just as you were about to sleep, your fist clenched against his chest as he kissed your forehead.

And soon, the two of you fell into a slumber, surrounded by each other's warmth and the love you shared.

Translator: (Please note: I do not speak Spanish, this is all from the translator)

Cariño - Sweetie 

Mi Esposa - My Wife

Mi Esposo - My Husband

Eres hermosa mi amor - You are beautiful my love

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[rise-my-angel]

Dreams of Secrecy

Pairing Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Length: 15.8k

Warnings: smut, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, depictions of violence, angst, angst/hurt comfort, mystery elements

Notes: Set an undisclosed amount of time after the events of the film, seeing the movie not necessary to understand the story 

The stench of death permeated the entire town outside, but did little to slow the flow of business inside. Merchants and traders alike passed through once, then twice when realizing they could go no further and had to turn back. The sizable trading port sat in the perfect area, calm channels leading into open waters in all directions with any and every kind of item being packed up or shipped out. There had never been a day you wandered through the vast market and it wasn’t incredibly busy. With that amount of people though, came disease. From the shipping docks to the small houses on the outskirts of surrounding towns, as soon as one person fell ill, they all did.

The little inn you called home was just far away enough to fight off whatever plague had spread. It was a crossroad between paths to major cities and the port, mostly with travellers as your patrons looking for a meal to eat before moving on. With the sickness spreading, most people you saw come in for one evening came back the next going back the way they came, almost none stayed for any length of time. You were far enough to be safe from catching it, but the stench of death knew no bounds, and it let its presence be known all times of the day.

You didn’t own the inn, but you sure were worked as if you did. The owner, a large man with little patience and a port belly could usually be found either in the back counting his money or drinking in the tavern. The more time he spent not doing work, the more you found yourself going from a simple worker meant to keep the rooms clean and tidy, to running around the tavern serving food and drinks as long as they were demanded.

Most patrons were polite enough typically, but tempers grew shorter as the path to the cities were cut shorter and shorter from plague. Men with seemingly permanent scowls with trade deals going stale only able to vent their frustrations with more ale and more yelling.

Luckily on one particular day, things seemed to be moving slow. The inn had a few residents with a longer stay, most of whom kept to themselves, and a scattered few coming in and out for a brief period of time. You had been busy behind the drink counter when two men came in.

Both tall and wearing what appeared to be some kind of armour stood near the doorway looking around. Straitening up, you put on a polite smile, “Looking for a drink, sirs?”

The one with bright eyes and longer hair tied back smiled and nodded, “Please, and maybe something to eat if you don’t mind?”

You already started to walk around to the main room, gesturing to small tables sitting alongside a quiet wall. “Of course, please sit I’ll bring you gentleman something from the kitchen.”  

The two turned to each other for brief words before they made their way over, both pulling off bags from over their shoulders and placing them close to their feet as they sat. The other mans companion much more fit the usual temperament of patrons as of late. A deep scowl with harsh eyes, and little words. Though his posture was more hunched then his companion, almost like he was trying to make himself appear smaller despite his broad frame. His eyes were darker, matching his shorter hair and scruff on his face. Those eyes seemed to watch you as you poured drinks and set them down on their table. “I’ll be right back with some food.”

Once again the friendlier one thanked you while the other said nothing. A scar sat down across one eye,  faded but still striking against his face. Making your way to the kitchen you wondered if he were somewhat blinded by whatever cut across him like that. It didn’t really matter though, you reminded yourself. Not sure why the curiosity even stroke your fancy, you simply shook your head and continued to work around the kitchen. Gathering up what was still warm from midday, you finally made your way back into the main room.

As the door swung open, both men had been leaned into each others space in deep conversation before pulling apart from the sound. The scowling mans head raised up and watched you with a furrowed brow as you walked over. His gaze only pulls away from you long enough to look at his plate then back to you, he still doesn’t say anything, but he does nod in appreciation.

For a while you’re busy attending to your own tasks, going over in your head what work needs to be done before you can finally retire for the evening. Cleaning the tables, a rough, accented voice grabs your attention. “What exactly is the hold up east of here, hermosa?”

Head shooting up, eyes wide looking at the man. One elbow was rested on his thigh while the other lay across the table, body turned towards you with curious looks. Your mouth opened to speak, but turned to peek at the other patrons either side of you. Lowering your head to look at the ground, you clear your throat while putting down the rag, coming to stand closer to their table. “They say it’s some kind if plague. Someone came in from the port everyone said looked like death, and it spread into all the villages around it. Everywhere east is either full of it or just empty because people are too scared to come out their houses.”

Both men glanced to the other, significant looks you did not understand flashing between them. The longer haired man spoke this time. “How long has that been going on?”

Hands wringing together in front of you, you tried to think back. “I don’t know how long since everyone started getting sick, but I know about two night ago is when I started seeing men coming back the way they came since no one wants to do any business now.” Surprisingly, the grumpier one pulled out the chair between you, waving his hand for you to sit. No one around needing attending to, or the innkeeper to yell at you, you smoothed your skirt out as you sat. “Not much business here either, with the cold starting to blow in hardly any traders are even offering anything up. Is that what you’re travelling for?”

Unbeknownst to you, each man pulled the bags they arrived with in a little closer to their person. Raising an eyebrow at the other, it was the longer haired man who answered, a little stilted in his voice. “Something like that.” Unsure if they had anything else to say, you took their further silence as a dismissal. Grabbing their empty plates as you stood, “Let me know if you gentleman require anything else.”

“Are there any rooms available in this place?” Turning swiftly, you could see the other man looking at his companion with what seemed to be a warning, but he continued on regardless. “We have business out there, no use in leaving when if we did we’d just have to guess when to come back.”

Standing a little straighter, you tried not to smile. Guests with longer stays weren’t as common anymore. “Absolutely. Let me go see if I have any rooms ready for you..” Trailing off with a paused expression.

“William, and this is Tovar.” You gave them your own name in return, telling them to wait. As soon as you walked off, both men turned dramatically to the other. Some kind of argument ensuing, the angered whispers from the man Tovar, seemed to say something along the lines of ‘what the hell are you thinking’, before their voices were too far away to decipher.

They opted for two separate rooms with plans of an unknown length of stay. William appeared to be the more social of the pair. Clear loud voice, asking questions and making pleasant conversation as you showed them upstairs. Tovar was more direct but less likely to talk. He stuck by close to your person as you explained where and when he could find certain accommodations and spoke very little. It was only when you were done showing him to his room, did he speak. Standing with his hands rested on his hips in the middle of the room, harsh eyes softening up enough to nod genuinely. “Gracias, hermosa.” Changing to a quick “Thank you” at your confused look. A small smile betrayed you as it formed on your face, before you quickly pulled it away and left.

The two kept mostly to themselves for a little bit, coming down for dinner and than breakfast the next morning, always speaking in hushed tones that silenced whenever someone passed by. William loud and chatty, while Tovar was quiet but more direct when he spoke to you. Hitting you with the impression that he didn’t seem to actually talk to many people. Tended to refer to you in words of his native tongue that you just hoped weren’t insults or rude like some of the tavern patrons called you.

You had been pretty off that afternoon. Head lost in the fog as you tried to make sense of your dream last night. It was enough that it woke you up abruptly, eyes flying open and a loud gasp leaving you as your heart pounded in your chest. It was odd, you didn’t often dream but the one last night was so stark and vivid, even though none of it came back to you clearly during the course of the day.

There were knives, loud bangs like a series of explosions, heat from what felt like a blazing fire, and for some reason, tying it all together you kept thinking about Tovar. That you really didn’t understand, why you kept trying to fit him into the flashes you remember. Either way by the time you made it down to the main room for dinnertime, the innkeeper was already berating you for being so distracted.

William was nowhere to be found, but his companion found a seat by the counter you had been working behind. Much like before you smiled and served him a meal, only this time his voice called your name back to him. “Tell me, hermosa. How long have you been in this place?”

You hesitated for a moment as he tore into his food as if expecting someone to rip it away from him. “Since as long as I could pour a drink. Never had much money growing up, so someone always had to work.”

He kept one hand across the side of his plate at all times it seemed instead of relaxing. “Lived your whole life here, no?”

You nodded, mindlessly smoothing out your already straightened skirt. “Not much of a traveller. Don’t got the money for it, but I can always dream.” His eyes narrowed at the word dream, but didn’t comment on whatever thought sparked.

“The world is nothing special anyway. Just more people trying to kill you the further you go.” His armour was off at this point, but you could spot weapons on him everywhere he went.

Your voice was quieter, but not judgmental. “Is that what you do?” His eyebrows raised almost playfully, goading you to pry more. “Kill..people?” The eye contact was captivating. His deep brown eyes flickered against the light beautifully, contrasting against the harsh intensity no doubt filling them over the years. His handsome face not helping the matter, large angled nose framed his soft features and plump lips as if what didn’t spill out of them was harsh.

His head leaned in to you more and you had to resist the temptation to follow suit. Instead keeping a polite distance, he muttered, “Does the idea bother you, hermosa?” The playfulness was toned down as you calmly shook your head no. You knew men were capable of far worse than just killing, and nothing about this one gave you a reason to feel scared. “Good.” His shoulders fell and he slouched back to continue to eat. “You see the things I’ve seen, it just becomes something you do to survive. Not something a little girl like you would know about, place like this.”

He chuckled as your eyes narrowed in annoyance. You grab the glasses in front of you aggressively to move away from his teasing, but a large hand reaches out and grabs your wrist. Almost a cold shiver hit you, flowing through you from your wrist up into your heart like ice water. His face regretful. “I meant no offence, cariño. Just teasing.” A smirk sliding right back on as you felt his thumb ever so lightly rub over your skin, “So sensitive.”

Yanking your wrist out of his hold, a deep chuckle came from him, not an unpleasant sound you thought. “You should be careful when speaking to the, little girl, who serves your food, sir.” Oh that chuckle, you felt it’s bass pound through your body in such an addicting way.

“I’ll remember that, pequeño.” No doubt something insulting further. You didn’t quite turn away in time, knowing he caught hint of a laugh as you gave him a yes sir. “Pero.” Your head tilted slightly to face back as you gave him a confused look. “My name. I know your name, you should know mine. Pero.”

You repeated it back to him, it felt warm on your tongue. A unique name, but he was a unique man. A stand out in the never ending sea of mediocre men passing through. So you started calling him by his first name, and Pero started getting amused looks from William whenever you did so. Whatever language he spoke to you in, it seemed to only get more derogatory towards the other man in response to such looks.

Strange as it was, you seemed to see him in your dreams more and more. Your mind seemingly creating these cast situations to put him in, sometimes William seemed to be there as well. You would wake up with images in your head of him across distant lands and foreign places you never knew even existed. Perhaps it was a product of Pero speaking to you more often.

William would talk to anyone, patrons, people passing by outside, even got along with the innkeeper as if there wasn’t a soul on earth he couldn’t find common ground with. Pero though, rarely interacted with anyone besides his companion, and now you.

Often through meals he would find reasons to beckon you over to him, persuading you to sit and tell him about you. Mentioning very little about his own past, Pero asked you about your parents, your childhood, what you did outside of the inn for fun, how far from this town you had ever been. Each question he wouldn’t give much input, but listened keenly, and prompted you to continue anytime you felt awkward by his silence. “You’re voice is much nicer to listen to than my own,” Was his excuse.

“Finally something we can agree on!” William boasted with a laugh as he joined the table. A glare always sent his way, sometimes a warning in tone. A long drawn out, “Amigo,” and William would laugh more but put his hands up surrendering. They bantered and argued, but clearly they meant a lot to the other.

William was also strangely tight lipped about his own story, and said very little about he business he and Pero originally travelled this way for. Even more strange, both men told you that cleaning their accommodations wouldn’t be necessary. In fact they seemed adamant that no one go into their rooms at all while they weren’t there.

You once asked Pero about it and he seemed to dodge the question, shaking his head with a far off look as he brought up old memories. “Protecting whats yours is the only priority that matters out there. It doesn’t matter how many men I’ve travelled all this way with, if you didn’t want it taken, it never left your hands.”

Hands pausing mid air as you were folding the dry washing, you looked trapped between sad and sour as you looked at him. “Pero, I would never-”

Broad upper body hovered over yours as he leaned into you, “I’m not accusing you of anything, hermosa. It’s the others I do not trust.” His dark eyes scanning the view behind your back, you wondered if he even realized his hand had found it’s way onto your upper arm just resting there comfortingly. He didn’t move it until you prompted him minutes later when broke the quiet spell over you both.

“If you’re going to just stand there, than you better help me, mister.” A playful pout on your face as you held a bunched up pile of sheets at him, and Pero grabbing it from you stubbornly with a roll of his eye and muttered curses in his native tongue.

They disappeared throughout the day, not that what they did was any of your concern, but it was odd. Hushed tones and protective of people getting to close to their belongings. More then once they returned with what appeared to be cuts or bruises that would be healed entirely the next day. Brushing off your questions with assertions that you were just seeing things, or a gentle mutter that it was nothing for you to worry yourself about.

You weren’t stupid though, whatever they were involved in clearly was dangerous to a degree. Weapons and armour weren’t carried by normal people, and they both moved in sync as if they had done many dances over a lifetime.

Some evenings, William would dazzle the crowd with tricks and spectacles of his precise aim. Pero at his side barley even having to watch as he assisted in setting something up for William to aim at, as if they had full trust the other just knew what they were doing. “Idiota.” Pero would mumble as he slinked over to you, uninterested in the ooos and awes of the other guests. “Everyday he acts more and more like a fool. Soon enough I’ll be dragging him home to Spain and leaving him to play minstrel to the kings.”

Eyes shining with curiosity, you leaned your side against the counter, tilting your head to get a better look at him. “Is that where you two are from? Spain?”

Pero’s smile was far away. A hand running down his ragged face before resting over his mouth in thought. “William is from Ireland, but sí. That is where I am from, and where we met.” Finally he waved his hand nonchalantly off. “Long time ago, doesn’t matter now we’ve been much further than that now.” He watched you eagerly put the glass you were cleaning down on the counter before turning back, your hands clasping in front of each other. Smiling he knocked the idea down, “Hermosa, I’ve told you they aren’t stories you would want to hear.”

You took a step forward, eyes shining with not quite disappointment, but your face sagged nonetheless.  “Pero, I was born in this town, I’ve never travelled outside of this town, and quite possibly I will die in this town. Nothing you could tell me would bore me.” Hesitating, you almost didn’t say it, but Pero watched you catch your tongue before you could cover it up.

His head tilted to the side, eyebrow raised. “And?”

With a sigh, you looked side to side, no real meaning attached except to avoid his intense gaze before finally lifting them up to look him proper. “And I just...I just like..talking to you. Getting to know you. There, I said it. Happy?”

You squirmed in place, flustered and somewhat embarrassed as he continued to watch you, a flash of play in his eyes. Luck was on your side as a cheer from the crowd caught both of your attention, followed by a smash of plates. Someone with a tad too much ale in their belly trying to copy a throwing trick of Williams with his own dinner. You looked back at Pero, lip nibbling slightly in hesitation before a tiny smile graced you as he nodded over for you to go.

Grabbing the broom he gently called your name, “Come to my room when you are done, later. If you would still like to talk.”

Trying to hold back your surprise, he never let someone not William in there or vise versa. You couldn’t help though but replace your surprise with a dumb little waggle of your eyebrows. Pointing at you as you walked close by him with the broom, he spoke with the tone of a scolding parent, “Don’t push me, hermosa. I guarantee I’m better at this game then you are.”

Breath hitched, you almost dashed away before you could give anything else away. It was hard to tell if this kind of talk was flirtatious, and if it were mostly a jest. Pero didn’t speak to many people here, you had nothing to gauge if he was simply like this with all women but he did look at you with a deep intensity that set the blood in your body alight.

Men didn’t often give you this kind of attention unless they were drunk and willing to forgive your plainness in favour of trying to seduce the only woman in the room. It never worked, for one the innkeeper would never let you live it down without you getting yelled at for it. Secondly, and most importantly, not that you really admitted it to yourself, but Pero was the only man who you found attractive in a very long time. That was enough on it’s own to let your mind wander across your thoughts and almost considered letting your fingers travel across your skin, in the dead of night.

That, and the very distinct wink Pero gave you from across the room as you were bent down on the ground as you cleaned the ceramic shards. It wasn’t until you were alone in the kitchen that you realized such an angle gave a sight right into your neckline at the tops of your chest. If being alone in his room with him wasn’t flustering before, it sure was now.

It was ridiculous. The pointless preening in the small mirror in your bedroom as if it would make a difference. Your dress and hair exactly as they were during the day, if he wasn’t impressed then he wouldn’t be just because you fussed over it for a few seconds. As you walked the empty hallway, nothing but the flicker of torches and the scratching of the innkeepers writing could be heard. As you reached the end where both men’s rooms sat, you paused. Debating if this were a bad idea.

Pero made you feel a certain way, but that way surely wasn’t to let him under your skirt for the night and act like it was nothing in the morning. He seemed genuine when asking you to join him, but the looks he gave you made you worry it was one thing he was after. You suppose there was only one way to find out.

Your fist had only just reached the wooden door when it was opened and an arm pulled you in before a noise could be made. A large rough hand covered your mouth as you let out a tiny yelp, as Pero pushed the door closed with his other hand and pulled it back to put a shushing finger against his mouth. Nodding, he released your mouth and spoke quietly. “My apologies, hermosa. I didn’t mean to scare you, I would just rather not have any attention drawn my way.”

For the time he was here, hardly any of the space was made his own. Some belongings such as his weapons sat neatly on surface tops ready to be grabbed at a moments notice, with only his amour hung up along with a small chest sat atop the messily made bed. The fireplace glowing the room, casting Pero in a beautiful orange that lit his skin up like the sun shining down on gold. The fire dancing in his eyes bringing the brown out more attractively then the bright blues on Williams that everyone seemed to adore. Pero’s deep brown eyes were much more addicting to fall into if anyone asked you.

There was an awkward silence as you stood at the door, hands fiddling with your fingers as he stood a few feet away from you, his hands on his hips. His own fingertips tapping away as he finds your eyes and looking away again. “We don’t-” His head snapping up to you almost violently. “I just, I can leave if you’re not comfortable with me...being here.”

Fire crackling helped cover the sound of your heartbeat, unsure as to why you felt so nervous. Pero seemed to share that sentiment, fidgeting as he spoke. “No, no it isn’t that. I’m just not sure,” his voice fading off as he finds himself unable to find the right words.

You filled them in for him as you took quiet steps into the room, “Not sure why you invited me here?” He didn’t say yes, but the understanding in his face was your answer. “Pero, I,” Taking in a deep breath. “I’m not asking you to tell me all your secrets. I just want to know you.”

“Why.” His voice was penetrating, more demanding and rough. Unmoving and unblinking he stared you down, watching you stammer.

Maybe you should just tell him the truth. You’re not sure lying or making up a polite answer would satisfy him the way it may his companion. “I don’t know. I just know that I do.”

His dark eyes stared into your own softer ones, finding a plea to just let you in a sliver. Allow you to explore this strange interest you’ve developed in this mysterious man. And he does. Pero nods, finally moving over to the bed where he sits on the edge beside the chest waving you over.

Almost like baby steps you slowly walk his way, eyes darting between the empty space on the other side of the chest and himself, the idea of sitting with a man on his bed giving you pause. Pero rolled his eyes, reaching out to the side and loudly scraping a chair along the floor to sit in front of him before waving a hand there with a bemused glint in his eye.

Pero isn’t much of a talker, and it takes him a few moments to gather the right words to start. “You asked me about my travels with William. About the strange places we’ve seen. We have travelled together for a long time, much longer then you could imagine, hermosa. There’s very little we have not seen of this world now. Strangest of them all was far east.”

Your entire body was hunched as you leaned your arms into your thighs, eyes wide open as you listened intently.

Pero’s hand begun lightly tracing the edges of the small chest, eyes following his path. “We found ourselves with a group looking for an unusual substance rumoured only to be known by the Chinese.” Your mouth slightly agape, you know he said East but that must have taken such a colossal amount of time to get to. “Only William and I even made it. I told you hermosa, people will want to kill you no matter how far away you go.”

Regardless of your look of worry and the anxious nibble you were giving your bottom lip he continued. “What we found was even worse though. Things that a girl like you should never see.” Your eyes narrowed at the insinuation but stayed quiet. “What we did find as well, was what they had created.”

Pero’s fingers tapped harshly on the chest before he shot up from his seat. Making his way to the door, ensuring it was indeed locked he gestured you to bring the chest over to the small table in the middle of the room.

Lighter then you assumed, you brought it over and quickly moved your hands back in front of your torso not wanting to disrupt his things. You watched intently as Pero slowly opened the box, and brought out a few meaningless objects, but the most curious of them, some black looking powder.

Delicately he sat everything out before stretching his hand out to you. Placing it lightly into his, Pero grabbed your hand tighter and pulled you right up into his side. Closer than you ever had been, he seemed so large up close. His frame broad and all encompassing of your vision if you looked up at him, his dark eyes never straining from his task. His nose almost enticed you to touch it yourself, if not gently with the length of your own, than perhaps your lips.

“This hermosa,” your head swivelled to look where his hands sat, unaware that he indeed had caught out staring with a look of almost innocent want flurrying in you. “This is just one of the things we found out east, and this is what we are here for.”

Unlike anything you’ve ever seen, the black powder sparked and then lit aflame all in a second, until it burned itself bright and burst into nothing once more. Like a burst of heat and sound all at once that would have had you jumping back were Pero’s arm not suddenly behind you keeping your lower back pressed forward. You leaned forward at the smoke left behind, eyes wide in wonder. The flash of loud explosions from your dreams briefly came to mind. “What- I don’t understand. Is this a weapon?”

His fingers traced through the remains of the strange explosion, “It can be, the soldiers we were with when we found it used it as such. Nowhere else in the world has seen anything like it.”

“Except you. That’s why you wanted to come through the port.” Head turning up to his, “You wanted to trade it with someone, that's why you both are willing to wait it out?”

Pero’s head turned to you in return. “Yes. We have a man willing to pay handsomely to get his hands on this, more than any other offer we could get. There’s not much coin to be made in my line of work, hermosa,” his fingers moved from the table, holding up a dark stain of dirt like substance on his hands. “But this just may give us enough to breathe for a little while.”

Pero declined your offer to clean it all up, instead doing it all himself after washing the powder from his fingertips, gently placing everything back into the chest before carrying it to a wooden panel in the wall, loosened enough to slide the chest in, and hide it behind the panel once more from view. Crouched down he looked at you very seriously, “You need to promise me you won’t say anything to anyone about this, sí?”

The gentle nod wasn’t enough. Pero moved in front of you, his body once again towering over you. You could only imagine what being on this end of his violence or anger would look like. Pero calling your name, as his fingers nudge the side of your cheek to look up at him. “Tell me you swear you will not tell a soul about what I’ve shown you.”

Taking a risk, you grasped the wrist close to your face, “Pero I swear to you, I won’t say a word. Whatever you tell me, it’s our secret. I promise.” The tips of his fingers had only just slid from your cheek when you stammered out what you were thinking. “Why me?”

Pero leaned into you, his broad frame looming over you in the tense quiet when you asked again. “Why tell me?”

Was it your heart that was pounding loud in your ears, or was it his? Louder and louder it got the closer he found his face near your own. Once again his fingers found a path upwards, but the brush against your cheek was passed as he wound them through your hair. Tugging you just slightly, enough to finally let you feel his nose brush yours. “I shouldn’t have. If I were a better man, I’d turn you away and scare you off with the kinds of things I have done. Let you live this nice, quiet life.”

Trembling slightly your palms press against his chest, his breath stuttering ever so slightly as you do so. “I’m drawn to you, and I don’t know why.” Sliding up to touch the skin of his neck, Pero swallows thickly as you keep talking. “All I know is I want you to trust me.”

Pero’s other hand pulls the curve of your waist into his body more, his nose tracing down yours, before nudging at your cheek while he continuously rakes his fingers through your hair. The breathe from his mouth is so close you feel every pass of air. Tilting your head ever so slightly, not pushing but wanting to give him all the space in the world to press his lips against yours.

Like the touch of a feather, you just feel his lips skim your own. Your hands both tighten around each other as he tempts you with his kiss, but just as soon as you felt the brush of his lips, he forces your head down to press them against your forehead.

Soft lips leaving a loving warmth against your skin before he pulls away from you entirely. His brown eyes soft but conflicted, his posture hunched and unsure. One of his hands finds it’s usual home on a hip while the other traces his own mouth now standing a good few feet away from you, eyes filled with conflict.

Fingers clenching before dropping down to your sides with an audible plat. Your face grows hot, shame floods your lungs for thinking he would actually want that with you, maybe you pressured him into it. Looking at him with your stupid sad eyes hoping for him to open up more than he’s already given you. The shame burned too hot in your body to handle. “I’m so sorry, Pero.”

Just before you turn the door handle to leave, he gently calls your name. “You shouldn’t want me.” Looking back, Pero’s eyes were wide, bright but full of a kind of regret you couldn’t decipher. A regret you think isn’t just about an almost kiss. “I’m a killer, cariño. I’ll always be a killer and that is a life you don’t deserve.”

Once again a new wave of embarrassment fills you. You can’t look at those eyes, those eyes so big and full of unimaginable thoughts. You turn and watch your hand ready to turn the handle instead. “What I deserve doesn’t stop how I feel, Pero. It never will stop that.”

And you left him standing conflicted in the middle of his room. Your head didn’t even raise from it’s penetrating gaze on the floor until you came into your own quarters, unaware of the prying eyes from the bright blue eyed companion leaning against his now open door frame.

Laying in bed, haunted by the silence of the night, you also remained unaware of the quiet talks many rooms down the hall. Of William whispering just loud enough that had someone leaned their ear against the door, his words might have been heard.

“I’ve seen it to, Tovar. You can stand there and insult me all you like, but I see them too. They’re not just your dreams, you’re not the only one who dreams about what we’ve done. What we’ve seen.” William invades Pero’s personal space with no care about his tense agitation. His finger pointed at him, “Deny it all you want, but no amount of pretending you don’t feel something for her will change the fact that seeing her in our dreams means something dangerous.”

Pero huffs, pushing Williams point to the side as he walks to the table once more. Downing the ever warming mug of ale left in it. Wiping his face with his hand as his jaw clenches. “I won’t subject her to our life. We were chosen for whatever godforsaken reason,” whipping around his teeth almost gritted like a hissing feline. “But she is not us. She is nothing like us and I refuse to drag her down that life. A life she couldn’t possibly even understand.” Williams eyes fall too soft, too understanding. Pero had to look away. “We’ve lived more of a life than anyone we’ve ever met. Whatever life is in store for her has no place in the likes of us. She deserves better.”

William’s voice was quiet, so quiet it almost couldn’t be heard over the crackle of the fire. “We didn’t deserve this life either, Tovar.”

Pero turned away. A palm pressed against the wall, looking at the wood willing the memories away. “Maybe so, amigo. But she is not like us. Almost no one is. I won’t drag her into something she can never be.”

Fire crackled against the silence between them. It was rare they spoke of it these days, in fact they hadn’t spoken of it since the wall. It wasn’t something either of them understood, and sometimes it was just too much to think about. William broke the silence first, “My contact says our man’s willing to wait it out. He’s apparently holed up just like us.”

Pero’s eyes slid shut as he spoke. “Can we trust him? This messenger of his?”

The sounds of William all but falling into the chair accompanied the sigh he let out. “Right now? We have too. If Ballard was right, he’s the only one who knows what we have.”

Pero pushed against the wall, muttering curses in his own language. Pulling a chair out angrily as he joined William at the table. “Trusting him was a mistake.” The air around him turned cocky as he rolls his eyes towards him, “Leaving you to play hero to those people wasn’t, but I should have just done it on my own terms.”

Both men chuckled. William pouring more drink for the both of them. “You really just left him out there? Surprised you didn’t just kill him, with your temper.” The ale slid too warm down Pero’s throat, but it was better then nothing.

“Trust me, whatever death he found alone in those barren lands, no horse, no water? It’s crueler than anything I could have done to esa rata.” Both men chuckled into their drinks once more. Whatever the future held for them, at least they both could agree that letting Ballard take no part in it was for the best. Whatever the mans plans had been, Pero and William wanted no part in it.

The pot begun to boil the next afternoon. Pero and William having left before the sun had fully woken up, leaving you to stew in your thoughts in needed quiet. There had been very little activity through the inn that morning. Far off in the distance the view of smoke had taken up the sky, and soon the burning stench of rot had followed.

Whatever was spreading through the populated towns was cursed enough to desecrate the corpses of those it took. Little people passing by the crossroads wanted to stick around in case the smell lingered. Multiple times you had laid herbs and burned smells into the tavern air, keeping the air inside smelling fresh at the very least, but most didn’t have the stomach for a drink or a meal after that rot.

So you were left mostly alone, behind the counter with a scrap of parchment scribbling down what drinks were getting low, what needed to be purchased and what needed to be brought up from the cellar. The feeling of Pero’s lips just barley brushing against yours haunted you, your waist still felt the tight grip from his large hands like he seared his touch into your memory forever.

You dreamt about him again. This time, a much clearer dream, many men on some field, the sounds of yelling and clashing metal, followed by silence and nothing but dead surrounding them. You had been startled awake right as your brain conjured the image of Pero and William simultaneously rising from the dead, the shock must have ripped you away from the terrifying image.

He had said he was a killer. Was this the nightmare you could only imagine falling upon men like them? You didn’t quite know, but both men were in your dreams now and it took much effort not to let your sleeping imagination bother you in the waking hours of the day.

Two men wandered in at some point, plain and unassuming, likely just here for a drink. “What can I do for you gentleman?”

One of them was pacing slowly, a tall man looking around the tavern and the few people inside. The other walked up to the counter, “How many people you got saying here?”

Your head tilted in a slight confusion at first, not the usual way somebody approached asking for a room. “We have enough available rooms for you gentleman if you're looking for a place to sleep.” Just as you spoke, the tall man grabbed one of the people sitting alone with their drink by the back of their head, and slammed it down with a crash onto the table below. The weight of the slam so harsh, he lay unmoving.

Jumping back in place, you looked at the one in front of you with nothing but fear. “You got two men staying here, one Irish bloke and one dark skinned fella. Right, girl?”

Swallowing so hard you could hear the sound of it, your eyes flickering between the one staring into your soul, and the other standing casually with an arm resting atop of the chair of the unconscious man. Fervently you shook your head no.

The man in front of you didn’t blink once. “Where they at right now?” You could see the other in the background once again strolling through the tavern, the only other patron sitting in a corner as still and silent as you. You said nothing, you physically couldn’t.

You could still see the man on the table, unable to see clearly enough if it were blood starting to pool or just the spilt drink collecting around him. The other man now stood beside the only other patron, not a care in his entire stance at the fear of the person leaning as far back into their chair as possible. The one in front of you moved his head awkwardly to the side to slide into your field of view, snapping your attention back.

“Listen girl, those two got something that they shouldn’t. Something valuable.” The flash of fire and the banging sound passed quickly through your mind. The powder. “Just tell us where they’re at, and we’ll have no problem.”

You still couldn’t speak. Any faint memory of your mother telling you to run if you were in trouble failed you, you were frozen as if doused with ice. You didn’t even know where they were, but you knew where what they were looking for was being hidden, and if you spoke your fear might spill the secret Pero trusted you with. They weren’t satisfied with that silence though.

The tall man jumped the person at the table, wrapping his long arms around his head and neck as the others arms flailed uselessly in the air. Gurgling for air you could see him going limp before the one in front of you leaned in real close. His breath stinking the air must like the smoke outside, but this time filled with the wreak of food and dirt. “We don’t want to hurt a little girl like you,”

Suddenly he also reached forward, one hand grabbing at your hair as the other brandished a knife up against the side of your face. “But I will if you don’t give us what we want. We know they got it, just give it up and we’ll let you walk away without uglying up your face more then it already is.”

The tall man coming to his side, his voice spoke with a more elegance, an accent and tone much more like a rich man then the common folk in front of you directly. “We could make things much worse for you. Just cooperate and we won’t have to hurt you. You have no idea the kinds of people searching for what these two are hiding.”

Yanking your hair back as the knife pressed harder into your face, it threatened to break the skin as he spat into you. “Last chance before I cut into your ugly-” Blood spat into your face as hands fell from you and his face went shocked. You gasped and jumped back pressing against the wall of drinks as an arrow stuck from one side of his head to the other. He fell over with an unceremonious splat, as the other man looked at the direction it came from.

Another arrow flew out with such force it pinned the tall man against the surface behind him. The men they seeked flying into view, William with a bow in his hand now lowered down came to stand near you as Pero wasted no time slicing into the mans skin, causing gross yells as blood begun to seap from the wound. You could just barley hear him speak in his native tongue hissing and snarling words as William stepped across the floor beckoning you with a jerk of his head to come out from there.

His bow now back in it’s holding place, he held a hand out to direct you away from the body on the ground. “Did they hurt you at all?” Still unable to speak all you did was shake your head, looking past him at Pero quietly speaking with red hot anger at the man in the language apparently both understood. William put comforting hands on both your shoulders, body bent slightly to look into your eyes at your level, quietly saying your name. “I need you to do something for us.”

Your eyes tore from Pero at the instance the arrow was pulled from the mans body and a yell of pain filled the air. William unphased by the display behind him. “We will handle this ourselves, but I need you to promise me you will not tell anyone whats happened.”

Glancing to the unconscious men pair at their respective tables, “W-what about,”

Pero approached, throwing the man against the counter for William to turn and grab. Pero took just two steps to come in front of you and cupped both sides of your face with his hands. His teeth gritted in anger as he pulled you to see your face more clearly as he searched for any sign of injury.

William begun to direct the man out the back way as Pero leaned his forehead against yours. “We will take care of it, but you need to promise me. These are not good men, I do not want them looking for you too.” One hand moved to cup the back of your head, “Promise me, cariño.”

You nodded, eyes shut at the soothing sensation of his skin against you. “Not a word, I promise.”

Pero breathed deeply before pulling the back of your head into him to press a harsh kiss against the top of your head. “Go up to your room until we are done here. We will have this mess out by the time anyone else comes inside.” Pulling away he looks into your eyes, something otherworldly flashing in their brown depths. A ferocity you had never seen. “You’re okay, cielto. I will always make sure of that.”

By the time you had come down from your room, the innkeeper approached you grumbling about having to pick up the slack, saying something about being told you felt ill and needed to lay down. Not much sympathy though, since he once again just shoved you into the tavern to begin the night service.

Everything was as it was. No blood, no bodies, no nefarious men with vague threats. Just regular people yelling and laughing into their drinks, and people looking to be fed. Neither Pero or William anywhere to be seen, but knowing they had left with the tall man alive, maybe you didn’t want to know where they were.

You trusted Pero completely, even putting that trust more and more into William as well, but you also knew violence was not something you could stomach, not now at least. So you pushed it down, and got to work. Serving greedy bellies late into the night before you could finally seek asylum in your room and put the day behind you.

Cupping water from the small basin on a dresser, you drenched it gently onto your face. A wish for the water to drip off of your face along with this ever growing pit in your stomach. Dressed only in your shift, you allowed the coolness of the night air to flow into your room and caress your skin.

The cold, the smoothness of the water on your face, you slipped your eyes shut as your chest rose and fell with every deep breathe. Palms outstretched on either side of the basic with your legs stretched back you, you gave no regard for whatever sounds flowed around outside. The silence of your heartbeat and your breathing was the only thing you allowed yourself to focus on. So much so, it wasn’t until the jarring jolt of your door opening and slamming shut that brought anyone approaching your room to your attention.

Hand jumping to your heart, you had jumped back with a loud gasp as Pero stood braced against the door. Palms pressed into the wood as his dark eyes flashed deep with an unspoken desire roaming the exposed figure. As his eyes found your face, he quickly changed his stance. Holding an arm out as if to calm a spooked animal, muttering your name to gauge your reaction.

All it took was seeing you move one step towards him for Pero to close the gap. Grasping at your face with one hand and the other grasping the skin just below your chest holding you still. Roaming your face he properly looks at you watching him with concern. “You’re sure you are okay? They didn’t harm you, no?”

Head shaking no, your hands pressed against his chest like before. “I-” You had to look down as you took a deep breathe, unable to see Pero just barley pulling his eyes away from greedily watching your chest heave under the thin material. Looking at him once more, you pressed a palm gently against his cheek, the coarse scruff under scratching in a strangely soothing manner. “You don’t need to tell me, I just need to know you are not in danger.” When he didn’t answer you pressed further. “Tell me you are not in danger, Pero.”

His thumb rubbed your jaw back and forth, grip loosening on your waist but refusing to pull away. “I can’t involve you in this, hermosa.” Feeling you moving back he yanked you closer. “No, I cannot put any of this on you. The less you know, the less they can hurt you. These are men working for a cruel man, and I know exactly what they would do to you to get you to talk.”

Your fingers grasped at whatever material they could hold on his shirt, lips pursing as you thought. “And how do you know that?”

Pero’s eyes were bright, but full of a sadness. “Beacuse I know what I would do to you if I were them. I am not a good man, hermosa. I’m not in danger, I am only putting you in danger by being close to you.”

This time, it was you who pressed your forehead against his. Both of you leaning into each other, eyes closed as you felt the others breath grace the skin of your face. “What if it’s a risk I’m willing to take?”

If there was sadness in Pero’s eyes before, now it has morphed into pleading. The grip on your face rougher, his head ever so tilted as he finds your confidence. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

Your smile didn’t meet his eyes, but you know somewhere deep inside he felt it all the same. “You’re not asking. I’m telling you. You’ve already opened the door Pero, just let me in.” The faint muttering of words you didn’t understand left his mouth. His plead bled to frustration, perhaps even anger, and Pero only had one response to such anger. To act.

Pero pulled you in as he closed the gap between your lips. His lips were harsh and unforgiving, controlling your every movement as he kissed you. The first bite against your lip had you gasping, allowing Pero to taste you with his tongue.

Never in your life had you been kissed this way. The softness of his lips moulding against yours, pulling whimpers from you and needy groans from deep in his own chest, they were nothing like the soft kind pecks that the church had ever told you was appropriate. Pero didn’t kiss you like a man of God, he kissed you like he were drowning and his only rescue was found in your lips.

Greedy hands moved down your body, one holding your waist as he pulled you into his body more, the other grasping tightly at your ass. Something between a whine and a gasp left your mouth, enough to pull your lips away. Almost a snarl had left Pero as his grip on your ass tightened to a bruise as he reconnected your lips together.

His tongue explored inside your mouth with no shame, tasting and touching as if wanting to reach down your throat as his other hand cupped your breast. Jumping at the sudden contact your hands gripped his hips, the skin just below his shirt rising enough for your fingers to slip under and touch his skin. The hand on your ass moved to grip your shift in his fist, yanking himself away from your lips, watching the string of spit still attached to both of you, he leaned in just to give your bottom lip another bite. Pressing your palms against his stomach, Pero now held your shift in both hands.

His eyes shut for just a second as he heaved catching his breathe. Pulling the material just enough to get your attention, “If you don’t want this hermosa, then kick me out now before I go any further.”

For the brief seconds it took to find an answer, in your head it was as if a lifetime had passed. How had this man walked into your life and felt like he now consumed every bit of meaning you found in it? A childhood spent inside the walls called the house of god told you that this would deem you unworthy in the lords eyes. But the deepness in Pero’s? The brown sea that bore into your own, needing, wanting, desperate? The hellfire would be worth it, would be worth your time with this man.

You slid your palms up his stomach, slightly bringing the material with you. Before you could reach further, Pero yanked your shift up and off of you in an instant, tossing it with no care.

Bare for him to see, Pero raked his eyes any and everywhere he could see. A smile, a real genuine smile graced his handsome face as he looked at your softness. “Una criatura tan hermosa, realmente no soy digna,” Mutterings to himself you couldn’t understand, Pero ripped his own shirt off.

Giving you no time to look upon him as he did your body, Pero wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you again. His hands taking harsh gropes of the plush skin you graced him with. His mouth capturing yours like a man possessed, he begun to move you towards the bed. Him grasping at your ass while he did so. Finally pulling just away enough to look at you, your eyes shut still before you blinked away the haze. “Lay back for me.”

Nodding with little hesitation, you likely would do anything he asked at this point. The soft blanket beneath you as you watched Pero rid himself of the rest of his clothes. His broad frame no less intimidating undressed, but it was his cock that took the lead.

No frame of reference, you could not tell if it were big, but it certainly was not small, nor was it thin. Pero’s large hand just barley wound it’s way around the thickness of his cock right at the base, coarse hair covering the skin around him and just hiding his balls, thick and full hanging behind. Each step he took, his grip did little to hide the bounce such a size gave.

You know he told you to lay down, but you yearned to see more. Sliding to the edge of the bed, legs dangling at the floor, Pero came upon you, his cock so close for you to touch. His chest heaved as his teeth gritted at the sight of you. Gently you touched the skin of his thighs, low enough to simply pull his eyes to you. “Guide me, Pero. Show me what to do, how to make you feel good.”

Pero’s free hand ran through your hair, gentle whispering “I should be the one making you feel good, hermosa.” Nonetheless, his resolve was too weak. Moving just up enough he also pulled your head gently closer. The hand on his cock reached just low enough to pull one of yours up, using your fingertips to trace his length, then cupping you around him as much as your small hand could hold.

You leaned in, but stopped just before his tip, looking up at him all you found was a desperate man but one that still smiled. “Start with a kiss, just like before.” Grip in your hair readjusting for a better handle, he let you go your own pace.

Breathe hitching as you kissed his tip, then kissing down his length as your fingers did. Light strokes of your fingers joined the other side as you kissed him up and down and back to his leaking tip. Precum smearing over your lips making you brave, your kiss turning sloppy, messy as you kissed the tip of his cock then taking that wetness back down with your lips and tiny licks of your tongue.

The smear of your saliva and his own cum gave such a slick sound as you lightly stroked him. One again kissing his tip, licking him as you did so, whimpers unlike such a rough man left his mouth. Chancing a glace, you looked up to him. Eyes wild as one hand raked down his face, a sneer as he looked down seeing the tip of his cock just pressed up against your lips, staining white with his precum. It was enough to try.

Taking him into your mouth felt different then you thought it would. He was so hard, but the skin was unlike that on the rest of the body, almost like a rich velvet, but it filled as much as you could try. You shut your eyes hearing Pero groan your name and grip your hair tight.

Your tongue tasting as you went, trying to cover with your hand what your little mouth couldn’t, your other palm resting gently at the junction of his thigh. Pero’s fingers tipped your full mouth up to look at him once more, “Remember to breathe, hermosa.” You nodded as you slid back some, “Good.” His tone was rough, deep and almost with a husk as they turned to moans. He let go of your chin and nodded to continue. “Now suck.”

You don’t know how long you were there, sitting on the bed’s edge, licking and sucking at his cock, your slick mouth taking his cock in and out. Pero resisted thrusting, you could barley fit a third of his length, now was not the time to take more. He was so close though, he could feel it in his balls, he wanted to cum so badly. “So good, such a good girl.” Yanking your hair as he held it painfully harsh as his breathing heaved the closer is orgasm got. “Hot little mouth was born to suck me, weren’t you?”

Your own moan vibrating against his cock forced a hiss out of him. Part of you wanted to each out, touch his balls hanging just below the course hair you felt below your fingers. But would he like that? Now was not the time, not when sucking his cock felt too good to distract yourself from. He was hot and throbbed in your mouth as instead your palm slid against his hips, and grasped the cheek of his ass ever so slightly.

“Merida,” another hiss, “Going to make me cum, hermosa? Where do you want it?” His hands both gripped your head now, not forcing, but moving along with you as you bobbed up and down his soaked cock. “Maybe on these magnificent tits? Or down your needy throat?” You moaned against him again, “That what you want? For me to paint your throat with my seed?”

You couldn’t answer, but you moaned and nodded just slightly. It was all it took, Pero moaned out your name as he came in your mouth. Filling you with his warm seed both hands of yours gripped his hips to keep you steady. Barley moving your head as you took him all in, swallowing what he gave you with little care of how desperate it looked.

As you milked him for all he could give you, he slid out of your mouth as you gasped heavily, chest heaving as you did so. Pero’s cock was positively soaked, your spit and his cum still covering it completely.

Barley catching your breathe, Pero lunged down to kiss you, flipping so he could yank you onto the bed, your body pressed against his as he kissed you. Your thighs framed his hips as his half hard cock slid between your legs, soaked on their own with your own need.

For a while he simply held you against him, hands roaming your body as his lips and tongue moved with yours, the smack of your lips and moans the only sound in the room. Years could have passed and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you could feel was his hands, his lips, and his hardening cock between you.

Breaking the silence, Pero pulled your lips up off him, his nose rubbing against yours. “Would you let me fuck you, cariño? Fill you up with my cock?” You nodded, expecting him to simply slide you onto him, but he didn’t. Pero, ever the man doing the unexpected, flipped your bodies over so you lay against the bedspread.

He kissed down your chest, stopping to bite and suck at your nipples, drawing gasps from your mouth before he trailed down more. “I- I thought you were, going to fuck me?” Looking down you met a mischievous look.

Pero spreading your legs as his head lowered to your soaked core, “Oh I will, but first, I want a taste.”  You stammered out, not quite understanding, but Pero smirked. “A taste hermosa, I’m a hungry man as you know.” Lowering his mouth to you clit, the spark of pleasure slammed your head back against the pillow with a whine. He licked and sucked against the tiny nub as two thick fingers traced up and down your soaked entrance.

You whined out his name, arms coming up above your head to grip at nothing. Pero shifted, giving one long lick up the length of your cunt before sloppily sucking at your clit as his fingers pushed into your tight walls. Your hips jumped as you gasped almost a shriek.

Pero chuckled against your cunt as his free hand soothingly stroked the skin of your stomach, pumping his fingers slowly in and out. The wetness filling the air as your slick mixed with his own spit as he too his time taking you apart.

Finding the perfect spot inside you, your body writhed in a burning hot pleasure, one that coiled through your veins as you moaned. His two thick fingers stroking against that wall as his mouth worked your clit, unintelligible mumbling spoken into you as he did so.

The hand on your stomach slid down, pressing against your pelvis, just above your pussy as his fingers picked up their speed. Your body tensed up as the fire inside you built up quickly. You begged his name, not knowing what you wanted. Him to stop or to never stop you couldn’t even think. His name and the burning core inside wanting to burst your only thoughts.

Right as his fingers stroked hard against your walls, Pero pressed down on your pelvis and you fell apart. Your orgasm striking every nerve in your body as you arched up into him, moaning and gasping his name.

Little reprieve was waiting for you as Pero started to kiss the exact path he made coming down, only in reverse. A gentle smile found you as he pressed a much softer kiss against you. Now your own hands roamed the skin of his own body as you panted into his mouth. “Please Pero..”

Pushing himself up onto his hands, Pero looked down at your adoring gaze, his own matching. “I’m not sure I could deny you anything, looking at me like that.” He pressed a harsh kiss to you once more before he shifted you both.

Pero kneeling back as he pulled your legs on either side of him, stroking the tip of his cock against your folds. Tiny whines left you as he prodded just his tip inside out, in and out as he grinned at your needy sounds. Finally, he laid back down over you, one hand holding the base of his cock, the other wrapping around your back and pulling you up into him.

Words sat at the tip of his tongue, but he pushed it down. Kissing you instead as he pushed inside you.

You gasped out as it morphed into a moan in the same breathe. His cock never stopping, but slowly sliding in and sliding back out as he let you get used to the feeling. Your face desperate and whimpering his name, Pero slid his tongue into your mouth once more as his now free hand grasped yours. Pushing it up over your head as he thread your fingers together.

Sliding slow as he kissed you, you pulled back from his lips and nodded. “Please, I can take it.” An eyebrow raised teasingly, “Please fuck me, Pero. I need it.” That teasing smirk graced him once more as he begun to thrust into you.

Whatever burning need his mouth had given you, this was imminently different. His cock pounded into you harder and harder with every thrust, grunts leaving his mouth as Pero made a home in your neck. Kissing and biting into the sensitive skin, his scruff leaving a red sting as it trailed behind.

One hand of yours reached up to grasp his hair, rake through it as he did yours. You wanted to watch, see his large body fuck you with such pounding need, but you couldn’t. Head thrown back and eyes sealed shut unable to handle such a sight.

Pero’s cock slid against your walls, soaked beyond belief, soaked beyond any need he had ever gotten from a partner before. He thrusted into you faster, growling into your neck as the obscene slap of his skin against yours echoed in the room.

Each pound of his cock into your cunt you felt his balls slap against you, pulling another moan of his name out, nudging your nose against him to pull his lips onto yours. The arm around you snaked to your front, rubbing into your clit, as the sound of slapping skin increased. He murmured in his own language, fingers threaded together as his knuckled strained from the pressure, mouth sloppy against yours as he licked into you.

His fingertips rubbed your clit and he had to push harder into you, the walls of your cunt clenching tight around his fat cock as he pounded harder. His fingers sliding to rub the heel of his palm against you as you burst. Your cunt hugged his cock so warm and so tight, your gasps of pleasure screamed in his ears and it was enough for him.

Grabbing your hip Pero pushed into you roughly before pressing his tip as deep as possible, holding it inside you as he came. You could feel his hot cum soaking inside of you, his face slack jawed and forehead pressed into yours. Your bodies grinded slowly against each other as you milked every drop of his cum into you.

He never slid out. Pero simply released your hand and kissed you once more. Eventually, as you both steadied your breathing, Pero turned you both onto your sides, your arms and legs entangled as he refused to leave the warmth of your cunt.

Small kisses against your nose making you give a breathy giggle. You traced his cheek with your palm, his deep eyes now calm, satiated, pouring not need or want into yours, just brightness. Pero gripped your hand on his face, pulling it over to kiss the back of it and holding it against his heart. “Promise me, cariño. If anything happens, you do not say a word. This is not your fight, and I won’t let them hurt you just to get through to me.”

You wouldn’t fight this time. You nodded, wrapping your arm back around his waist as you kissed him once more before snuggling into his warm chest. Pero wrapped protectively around your own frame he kissed the top of your head.

Fading into the night, you felt his hands caress your skin, and his deep warm voice speaking nothings into the top of your head. Just the word “amor” loud enough to make out before sleep overtook you. Sleep didn’t find Pero as easily.

He knew he should tell you the truth, he knew there was so much more to this, more complicated then you could possibly imagine. The black powder was why they were here, that wasn’t a lie, but why they were being hunted wasn’t because of that. How could he or William explain that to you? It wouldn’t matter if he did. You weren’t like him. Weren’t like either of them and deep down he knew he couldn’t change that, so why should he burden you with that knowledge?

The morning sun came earlier than he wished. He wanted to stay in this little world, your arms around each other in your warm bed. Imagining a life where if he were a better man, he could whisk you away, find some small little home in the mountains and grow old with you.

That was a dangerous fantasy, but one Pero decided to hold onto for just a little bit longer. Watching your eyes flutter open, before grumbling at the brightness and snuggling further into his chest, Pero decided he couldn’t give this up, not really.

His chuckles drew your eyes open once more, a playful glare sent his way as he pulls you to sit upright. “As much as I’d love to keep you naked between the sheets with me all morning, we both have things to do, hermosa.”

You looked away bashfully as Pero stood from the bed, uncaring of his cock on display as he walked around the room to dress. You on the other hand worked slower, keeping you covered as much as possible while you slipped on any coverings. As you stood in front of your small mirror, doing up the front of your dress, Pero slipped his arms around your middle and yanked you back into him, laughing at the ‘oof’ that came out of your mouth.

“Are you always this handsy with the women bring into your bed so early in the morning?” If someone were to ask, you couldn’t be sure why you felt a churn in your gut at the image of Pero doing what you two did with another. You aren’t stupid, he’s a man. A handsome, well travelled man, you could only imagine the people who throw themselves at him.

Scruff from his beard rubbed against the skin on your neck as he found a home nuzzled in there with his lips. “I usually have no interest in staying until morning.” You knew he felt you tense up, his lips stopped their path as soon as he said it. What did you truly mean to each other? Was this strange pull to this man all in your head? Were you just a passing fancy as he was trapped waiting for the port to open once more? That didn’t feel good. The worry that you had made this magnetic pull towards one another all up, just beacuse a handsome mysterious man gave you the time of day.

Your eyes met his in the reflection, and you stammered. “I didn’t assume, I mean- I understand if I’m not what you want- you didn’t need to stay is what I’m trying to say.” That was well put.

Pero’s eyes narrowed and spun you around, his hands on your upper arms as he made you look him in the eye. “You didn’t make me do anything, hermosa. Get that thought out of your head.”

You swallowed hard as you hoped your face looked nonchalant. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just-”

Pero’s brows furrowed more, not anger in his eyes, more like a frustration you weren’t certain was aimed at you. “You just meant if I was to throw you to the side now, you would say you were okay with that, no?” The slight tremble of your lip has Pero pulling your chin up with his fingers just slightly. “But you aren’t okay with that are you, cariño.”

It wasn’t a question. As his fingers slid up to cup the side of your face, you hand followed to cover his. “I’d respect whatever you’d want, but no. No I wouldn’t really be okay with that.” His eyes softened, a look that was likely not on him often. “I don’t quite know why I feel so..so strongly about you but I do. I have a lot of feelings about you, Pero and I think the last thing I want to do is to give them up.”

Pero didn’t respond right away. Instead you just watched his soft eyes, was it sadness or warmth you weren’t sure. But the kiss he leaned in for was chaste, sweet and emotional. Not a man of words, but whatever this was between you, you spoke that language perfectly.

You helped get him ready to head out for the day, securing his weapons in place as you dodged his cheeky attempts to grab you. Smoothing out the material covering his chest, Pero held both of your wrists. That serious firm look overpowered by the warmth of his eyes stared into you as he brought both hands up to kiss the back of both, before leaning into give you one last proper kiss. “Remember what I said, hermosa. You keep yourself safe. I can handle men like yesterday, but if they come to you again, you don’t know me. That’s all you say.”

Sighing, you nodded at him. “As long as you promise to come back to me in one piece.”

Pero let your hands go, bringing your head to his and kissing the top of it. “Always, hermosa.” Watching him step out the door, he didn’t even make it out before he was faced with a very amused looking William, already waiting outside against the hallway wall.

“What? You think you were actually quiet last night? Lucky I didn’t make a noise complaint.” While your eyes widened, looking away in embarrassment, Pero simply grunted at him with a roll of his eyes. Shoving him towards the stairwell as William yelled out to you laughing, “Good morning to you too!” Their voices fading as Pero hurled insults at the man going down the stairs.

The Lord mustn’t have been that upset with you, at least the common room downstairs was all but empty save for a few elder men hard of hearing. Your morning and early afternoon were normal, quiet. Giving you seemingly all the time in the world to replay the events of last night, how his hands felt on your skin, how demanding his lips were, how heavy his cock was on your tongue.

The innkeeper yelled at you only once for having your head in the clouds, but no one else noticed or said anything. Apparently only William was the one with good hearing.

By the time anyone had even come in, the most excitement was a one of the regulars dropping almost a full bottle onto the ground before you pushed him off to sit at a far away table. Currently you were kneeling on the ground with a bucket and rag cleaning up the mess when the door opened. Looking up from the floor you saw three men filling the door frame. “Afternoon Gentleman. Take a seat I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

They all walked in, slow heavy steps echoing in the room. The two by each side stopped just behind the man in the middle. He on the other hand walked right into your view, large stomping boots starling you as you trailed up the length of him to meet less than friendly eyes. “I think we’re okay right here actually.”

The three men staring at you with an almost smug smile on each of their faces made you pause. Slowly you stood up, leaving everything on the floor. Two of them wandering around each side of you, keeping distance but not saying a word. The third pulling a crumpled parchment out of his pocket and putting it in your hands. “Now tell me sweetheart, where are these two?”

Pero and William stood not far from the inn, the small stream beside them washing the dirt from their hands. Little had been spoken between them for over an hour, a small comment from William, a joke really, about how grumpy Pero would get after they leave for good.

It itched at his brain. Knowing one way or the other, at some point you wouldn’t be with him anymore, but coming from his own companion made it sting that much more. He had no idea how he felt, what he was feeling.

There was a tiny speck of light in his life finally, and that light was you. He only just got you and after a days ride of craving being back in your bed with you, he didn’t need the reminder of what they were running from.

His voice irritated Pero more, “You know being mad at me doesn’t make me wrong.”

Nothing but a glare was sent his way, Pero standing finally and shaking the excess water from his hands.  “I’m not doing this with you, amigo. Not today.” He tried to focus on your face, the sweet sound of your voice and how soft your touch was against him. Tried to think instead about just how he would take you apart next, addicted to the breathy whines you gifted him when he bites at your lips.

“When then?” William walked over to him, uncaring of his mood. “When are we going to talk about it? When we’re half way across the country from her? Or are we going to wait until you finally realize you can’t just stay here and live out your lives together?” Pero desperately ignored him, but William stepped closer and his voice got louder. “I get it, it’s the last thing you want to think about but you have to, Tovar. I know how this feels-”

Pero’s blood boiled, whipping around and getting in his face, teeth gritting as he points at his chest. “You know nothing of how I feel. You know no matter how long you’re gone, she will be there when you get back. You have no idea how I feel.”

Rage radiated from his very being, while William had the decency to sigh, looking down in sympathy. They both know Pero’s loss will be drastically different then Williams. William had reassurance what to come back to. Pero had none, he had this time with you and they both know Pero does not feel love like this easily, or ever in how long they’ve travelled together. His voice was small, but honest. “You’re right. I...I don’t know how it feels.”

Pero's hand fell to his side, fists clenching and unclenching as he tempered the rage. “She is all I have, and this is all I have with her.”

“The dreams though-” Pero didn’t want to hear it.

“The dreams mean nothing, amigo. They never have. Just memories mixed with a made up future, and none of them have ever shown her with me. They never brought me to her, maybe something else did maybe fate meant me to find some kind of love with her, I don’t know. But reminding me of the inevitable isn’t fair.” His voice was quiet at that point, head lost in thoughts of you, wondering if meeting you was by coincidence or if he was destined to fall in love with you, as some kind of cruel joke on him.

For a long time they never spoke of this thing between them, it hardly mattered for a long time. Until China that is, and now it seems everything leads back to that one thing. He didn’t want to think about it now. He just wanted to feel your embrace, let him be at peace for just a while longer.

Your hands shook just as your head shook. “I’m not sure what this is about. Is this- are they wanted men?” If they were stupid, maybe they may have missed the waver in your voice, but by the smug smirk on the mans face and the chuckle that followed, clearly they weren’t.

He pulled the paper from your hands, looking at it in a pretending deep thought. “Good looking fellas, would be hard to miss wouldn’t they boys?” Agreements came from men now closing in on both sides of you as he folded it back up. “Now miss, I want you to be real careful about lying to me. I know they’ve been here. So why don’t you just talk to me like a civilized girl.”

You swore your body was starting to shake as well, whatever confidence you forced into your voice hardly covering up the trembles. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, now I suggest you either buy something or leave. I don’t want any trouble.”

The two remained at their position a number of feet away from you, but the third took another step forward. Watching your fists clenching in anxiety with a cocky grin. “No trouble, save for the guys from the other day that came looking for the same thing.” He took another step. “The ones your friends here killed just to protect you right?”

You felt a shiver crawling down your spine, edging it’s way into the nerves in your body at every angle. Your eyes were wide, flashing fear with little bravery left. You shook your head again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, okay? Even if I know who they were, they clearly aren’t here anyways.” You gestured out to the room with little population.

Pero told you not to give them what they want, told you what they would do to you if they found out how much you knew them. The man in front of you was far scarier then the ones from the other day, this one looked at you like nothing you said would matter.

His voice was even more terrifying. “Stubborn. Must be the Spaniard's girl, right?” He chuckled at your shocked expression. “Definitely. Soft looking, stubborn resolve, probably easy to seduce too.” He looked to his boys with a laugh, “William’s the one who likes a challenge, found that one out the hard way didn’t we?”

As another step was taken, the personal space between you closing in, you felt cold. You just wanted them to leave, go away and wait for Pero to come back and hide forever in his warm arms. This grumpy man who came into your life and stole away your heart, you tried to think of nothing but him as this one spoke back to you.

“Look, girl. I’ve had a long ride getting here. How about you just make this easy and tell me what you know, and we can get our of your way. The more you tell me, the faster I’ll leave.”

Giving him up, either of them up wasn’t going to happen. The harsh and desperate way he held you last night, Pero didn’t give away his love easily, and what kind of monster would you be if you just threw that away now? You wouldn’t. “Get out.”

His eyebrows raised, “You sure? Not even a little yes or no?”

Your voice found grounding. Firm and steady, the shaking still there, but your voice found it’s confidence. “You get nothing. Get out.”

There was a minute of silence. You watched him and he watched you. If he thought you would just willingly give up the only man ever to truly show you real love, then he really was stupid afterall. Finally, his body relaxed. Slouching more casually as he shrugged, “Well boys, we tried.” He looked seemingly nonchalantly between them both, and tilted his head with a sigh.

Then they moved. Both men jumping you from the sides and grabbing your arms, yanking them behind you so harshly they burned in pain from the force. They were gripped tight too, giving you little room to move. Chuckling as he now stood in front of you, the man shot his hand up suddenly and gripped your neckline close to your jaw, a knife sliding up into your vision as he stared at you without a hint of emotion.

“Now, see were it just my two compatriots here, they’d just let you go. They’re a little more sympathetic you see, suckers for a good love story. Me though? I was sent by the big man himself, so you can imagine I’m a little less caring.”

You didn’t know what he was talking about, this kind of violence for some kind of explosive powder seemed excessive, too aggressive. You just wanted Pero. He’s all you thought about as the knife was dragged lightly over the skin of your cheek, the flat side tapping at the skin under your eye. “Could give you a matching one. Lovers who bear the same scars and all.” Then slowly, he dragged the knifes tip back down and just barley touched the skin of your neck. “But, like I said. I’m a lot less forgiving then the others.”

He watched you swallow deeply and smiled. Your fear desperately holding onto the memory of Pero’s touch, his lips, those soft brown eyes you could find stars in. But this man wanted to carve through that.

He stood watching you cling to thoughts of your lover as he lightly teased the skin of your neck with his knife.

Horses safely secured in an inconspicuous hiding spot, Pero and William begun making their way back to the inn. William, naturally, being the one to interrupt the silence. “You’re sure it’s buried enough no one will find it?”

Pero rolled his eyes impatiently over to him, “I can dig a fucking hole in the ground.” William laughed raising his hands in the air. After the other day, everything hidden in their respective rooms needed to be moved, a safe place no one would find either items.

Getting close to the inn, Pero noticed a smell in the air. Hand flying out to stop William in his tracks, he lifted his head to sniff. “What does that smell like to you?”

Recognizing it himself, William barley got out “Smoke,” before both men took off running. Barley visibly through the trees, he could see the inn, not engulfed in flames, but somewhere inside was undoubtedly burning, and wherever it was, it was spreading.

Breaking the tree line though, it wasn’t the smoke encasing the air on the second floor that Pero could see. It was near the door, a trail of blood smeared into the ground along with marks in the dirt like clawing hands.

The trail didn’t go far, it bled into a small clearing in front of the road pooling around you, crawling your way seemingly to nowhere. Pero’s heart lurched so hard in his chest it was genuinely painful, he yelled your name as he sprinted over to you, William pulling up the slack to see if the perpetrators were still nearby.

Knees falling to the ground, Pero carefully picked you up muttering your name, as he turned you into his arms, everything in his body sliced at him in agony. You were utterly covered in blood, skin fading in colour as the blood dripped more and more from a slice into your neck. A gruesome slash leaving you bleeding out and rasping for any air or words you could.

Pero reached for the side of your face, “No, no, no no, you cannot do this to me,” Your eyes were glossy and far away, but they seeked his. Your hand just barley making it high enough to touch the one on your cheek. “Please it’s not your time,” His hand raked through your hair as he leaned into your face. “I just found you, mi amor you can’t go yet.”

Pero felt like he was the one on fire, trembling he watched you touch his jaw and cheek, barley getting his name out, as you struggled to say anything else.

“Stay with me, mi amor, por favour.”  He begged at this point, begged whatever power could keep you here, pressing his lips to yours in desperate need, he could just barley feel you kiss him back. Your lips brushed against his as he looked into your eyes.

“Pero, I- I lo..”

Nothing around him felt real. Your eyes fading away as everything in you stopped at once, the life leaving you entirely. It hadn’t been since he was a boy that Pero cried, but there was no stopping the tears now. He held you to his forehead, muttering raggedly in Spanish as he held you tightly.

It was cruel. The only light he’s ever found ripped away from him just as he found you. Pero’s heart shattered along with whatever soul existed within him. He could see William approaching. The horrific view, your body still in his arms soaked with blood, Pero cradling you to him now covered in it as well.

His own voice broke as he spoke, “Tovar,” When Pero looked up to him, it was a look William would never forget. A broken devastation on his face, tears staining his own cheeks and falling further as he looked back at you. “Tovar, it’s them. We-” He held a hand to his head, almost unable to look. “We need to go now, there's more coming, and the smoke-”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to, nor did he want to either. William looked away. Pero was right, he would never understand how this feels. William in fact was pretty sure Pero would never forget this feeling either.

Pero looked at you once more, pressing his lips against your cold ones, not leaving them as he spoke to you. “Mi corazón está contigo para siempre. Te amaré durante toda mi vida. Mi dulce chica.” One last kiss, and he pulled away. Gently standing with you in his arms, he carried you over to the softer grass beneath the luscious trees, not wanting to leave you splayed out in the road like that.

He brushed through your hair one last time, with a kiss to your forehead. He refused to wipe away the tears staining his cheeks as he and William were forced to run. He wasn’t here to protect you when it mattered most, this was his fault. Let him remember this pain forever, he thought to himself.

No matter how long that forever was. . . . . Journal of Father Raymond, 07-1196, AD.

“For some time I had been preparing for the burial of the young woman from the Inn fire with the slashed throat, when I noticed something unusual. She has been in my care for a number of weeks now, and there is no sign of death. No smell, no rot, in fact her colour seems to look less lifeless each day. More unusual, the wound on her neck, seems to be healing. I was unsure at first, but after observing her for a fortnight I can say that her deathly wound has begun to disappear.

The locals say she was a quiet girl, no signs of curses, punishment of sins, no signs of demonic presence. Just a girl working at an Inn, and rumours of budding romance with a man described as dark and foreign. Yet she continues to show no signs of death, despite the body and brain having no function.

I have moved her into the basement, her wrists chained in case I am indeed wrong about a demonic infestation. I have not told the Church of this matter yet, perhaps a sin itself, going against the good of the Lord. But I am also a man of science, and my years as a scholar tell me to understand this womans case further.

I will begin seeking any outside persons or men in the study of science who may have any idea of this phenomenon, or have an interest to join me in researching on our own.

It may take some time, but I am confident at least one such person exists that can help me. A healthy and healing, yet completely dead corpse of an innocent woman is not something I will ignore.

I pray the Lord and the Good Christ forgive me for such transgressions.”

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x y/n #pero tovar #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #the great wall fanfiction

[brewsterispunkk]

marriage of convenience, part three

pairing: pero tovar x f!reader , enemies to lovers!pero tovar x reader

WC: 2.4k

summary: reader is forbidden from going to town alone; pero makes a discovery

A/N: sorry It’s taken me so long! here’s part 3, babes :) send me feedback!!

PART THREE

You awoke the next morning with a sour taste in your mouth and tired eyes.

You hadn’t gotten much sleep. Last night, after the intrusion of your cousin and his friend, you decided to sleep with a dagger under your pillow. Whether that be for your brother or for the elusive Spaniard, you weren’t sure. Either way, you’d finally found sleep when the sun was beginning to rise and your mother began rousing from her own slumber.

Breakfast was a stilted thing—all bumping elbows and awkward glances.

Your mother was still angry, that much you could tell. She was like that: it took her time to get over things that affected the family. And harming a visitor under your own roof—albeit over a misunderstanding—affected your family’s honor. Still, Tovar didn’t seem the type to say anything to anyone. Or rather, to say anything at all. He barely spoke a word at breakfast.

Now, you sat waiting for Lisbeth to arrive. The two of you were set to go to market and trade—your mother often put you in charge of her dealings now that she was too often bound to the house to care for your ailing father.

Petyr was nowhere to be seen, and you silently thanked the gods. He was the last person you wanted to see.

You’d worn one of your long sleeved dresses with a high neckline today, despite the heat. You wanted to cover the bruises he’d given you the night before.

A sharp knock on the wood of your front door sprung you to your feet.

“Who might that be?” Your mother called from the kitchen, where she was sorting herbs for the market.

“Lisbeth, I’m sure,” you answered as you made your way to the door.

“I didn’t know she would be accompanying you,” she tutted.

You stopped, turning to face her, confused.

“You love Lisbeth,” you puzzled.

It was true; the two of you had grown up together, despite her father’s greater fortune. Your mothers had been with child at similar times, and had remained friends until Lisbeth’s mother’s untimely death five years ago.

“I do, dear. It’s just that I would like you back here by noon, and you always take your time when the two of you go together.”

“Noon?” you asked incredulously. That was hardly enough time to conduct all your business.

“Yes,” she said, hands on her hips. “I need your help cutting William’s hair. He looks positively beastly with that mane.”

“Surely you can manage–”

“And his companion’s, of course.”

You started, opening your mouth to protest before your mother held up a hand to stop you.

“I will hear no argument. Be home by midday.”

You sighed as Lisbeth knocked again, a bit firmer this time.

“Your friend is waiting, it is bad manners to keep her for so long,” your mother added as you opened the door and left, a smile in her voice.

- -

“You will not believe what I heard as I was breaking my fast.”

Your ears pricked at Lisbeth’s voice. She’d made it a third of the way to the village square before she’d begun telling you of what she heard from the servants and her father’s associates the night before.

Lisbeth’s family was considerably more well off than yours—you’d always known it. Where your mother had married a kind blacksmith, hers had married a wealthy Lord. Lisbeth’s father was a Lord in his own right, descended from a pedigree that could be traced back to Charlemagne. Some of the wealth and status had worn off through the generations, but the title held. He was an important man, and kept a reasonably sized manor and house. Because of this, your life looked quite different from hers.

Day and night, her father had associates from all corners of the world bringing him news of his business on their travels and the goings on of the world outside. In addition to that, Lisbeth’s family could afford servants. And if any small bit of information got past her father’s associates, the servants of her house were a spy network of their very own. So, the two of you were well informed on the goings on of the town, even if you weren’t involved directly in all of its happenings.

“What?” You asked.

“Roslyn told me that she overheard from Kit that two girls from Bay Street were attacked yesterday.”

You balked at her and found her own face grave. You gulped, sneaking glances to the trees around you.

You didn’t live too far from the heart of your village, but your little cottage was far enough away to be considered on the outskirts. You had to pass through small pockets of trees to get to the bustling part of your little town. The wildlife and distance from your house to the city had never bothered you–until now.

“Attacked?” The words were hushed as they left your mouth.

“Yes,” she said. “By two men. I heard scarcely more than that, but apparently they lurk in wait for young girls.”

“You’re sure?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Then we shall be on our guard,” you blew out a breath, wondering what the hell was going on in your sleepy little town to have so many unusual things occurring. First the return of your cousin and now this. “I encountered that strange man again last night.”

“What?” Lisbeth gripped your arm tighter as you walked. “The same one who spied on us in the forest?”

“The very same.”

“What–when?”

“In the small hours last night, after I walked you home.”

Lisbeth sighed your name. “I told you you should have let me go alone! Strange people are about in town at those hours.”

“I found him in my own house, Lisbeth!”

She just stared at you dumbly. You laughed.

“And he is most unagreeable. He scared me half to death last night. He is traveling with my cousin, William. Do you remember him?”

“Handsome William?” She laughed in disbelief. “Of course I do. With a face like that, how could I forget?”

“Yes, well. They travel together. That is all I know of it. They are to stay here for the season I believe. Until harvest, my mother said. I suspect I shall hear more on the matter later.”

“Maybe it is high time we find husbands after all,” Lisbeth said wryly. You scowled.

“You may have them both,” you kicked a rock on the dusty path in front of you. “I suspect he feels nothing but contempt for me anyway. I held a knife to his throat last night.”

“To a guest?” Lisbeth gasped and you cringed. She was always the more superstitious one than you. “In your own home?”

“Yes, yes, I have already heard such scoldings from my mother.”

“It is an insult to the gods,” she mumbled. “It brings bad luck.”

“Well, I already have enough of that,” you huffed before continuing. “What other news do your ears bring you?”

“Hmm,” Lisbeth hummed. “Rather than the…ruffians about, nothing of importance. Moira, the miller’s girl is to be wed to some minor country lord—a cousin of theirs, I think.”

“You don’t say?” You nodded. “If there is hope for her, perhaps there is some for us as well.”

Lisbeth laughed. Though she was not quite as old as you, she was by no means “fresh” as far as the marriage market went. Despite her beauty, many a nosy mother had begun to remark on her age.

“There was something about your brother as well.” she said uneasily. “But if you don’t want to hear it—”

“I do,” you said almost immediately. “What did he do this time?”

“Apparently,” she began carefully. “He has considerable debts. To both some other merchants, and to the crown.”

You sighed, dropping your face to your hands.

This was just like Petyr. He already had insurmountable debts from his years of breaking the law and gambling, but to add on top of this? Your father was ill and only getting worse in his age. He could barely walk as it was. It would cost money to find a healer, and with this, you knew Petyr would not only do nothing to contribute or help with finances , but he would no doubt begin to steal from your parents again. He’d done it before. You sighed again.

Maybe it was for the best William returned—surly companion and all.

- -

You returned from the market a little after midday and your mother looked so stressed that she didn’t even seem to notice.

“Ah!” She exclaimed when she saw you, looking up from William, who was seated in front of her. His beard was gone, and your mother was beginning her work on trimming his wild hair. Behind her, Tovar looked bored as ever, hair still damp from what you assumed was a much needed bath.

“You’re here,” she sighed. “Good. I need you to finish up on William and get started on Mr. Tovar. I have got to help Graciela with untangling her weaving and then find where James and Hugo have gotten off to.”

You opened your mouth to argue—to tell her that you would help Gracie and the boys, anything but spending time with the rake in your kitchen—but she was off before you could get in a word edgewise, flitting from the room.

You sighed.

“Don’t sound so excited, cousin.”

“It is not you I find odious, William,” you sent a shooting look to the Spaniard behind him as you said it. He only snorted.

“Tovar doesn’t bite, I assure you,” William laughed as you began to cut away the mats in his long hair.

“Not unless asked to,” Tovar added, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. It made heat rise to your cheeks.

William reached back to smack his companion who only scowled back at him.

“He’s jesting,” he assured you. “We are guests in your home. We would never lay a hand on you or your family. We are here to help.”

“Until the harvest, if what I’ve heard is correct?”

You watched his golden-brown locks fall to the floor in the evening light.

“You hear correct,” William hummed. “I was sorry to hear of your father’s condition. Tovar and I will do all we can to help with his woodworking while we are here.”

You felt your throat tighten at the emotion his promise made rise within you. You pursed your lips and cleared your throat.

“Thank you.”

“He always was like a father to me, you know.”

“I know,” you patted his shoulder and smoothed his hair back. “All done.”

William rose from the chair, still taller than you, even after all these years. He smiled down at you and ruffled your hair.

“Thank you cousin.”

You smacked his hand away.

“Tovar, your turn.”

Tovar sighed, before taking William's seat in front of you.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“I find this no more pleasing than you do, Señora.”

You gritted your teeth at what he called you again. From his place by the hearth, William rolled his eyes.

“Please, cease to act like children for five minutes,” he said. “My head aches having to listen to it.”

You sighed and began cutting his thick, dark hair.

All the while, Tovar didn’t make a sound nor move a muscle. He was free of his armor, instead clad in a white linen shirt of your father’s. You couldn’t help but note how broad he was, even without the heavy armor. It made your cheeks heat up.

No, you scolded yourself. He is unpleasant and uncouth and a rake.

You shook your head and continued cutting, willing away the unwelcome feelings rising in you.

As you reached forward to cut a particularly gnarled piece of hair near his temple, Tovar suddenly reached and grabbed your forearm. You jumped—surprised by the sudden movement of it all–when you saw it: the sleeve of your dress had fallen down, revealing the deep-purple of your bruise.

You gasped, pulling your arm back, clutching it to your chest.

Tovar looked at you with unreadable eyes, brows furrowed. Your own eyes only held his for a moment before you turned on your heel and left the room.

- -

You couldn’t stop staring at him.

It was mortifying. Never had you been unable to tear your eyes from someone in this way before. But, to be fair, he had blindsided you.

After you’d cut Tovar’s hair, your mother had flitted into the room to shave his face and finally remove the jungle of hair that obscured it to you. What lay underneath was devastating.

He had deep-set, dark eyes that always seemed to be glowering at something. His left eye was bisected by what looked like an old scar, probably obtained in battle, you presumed. He and William were sellsords, after all, as you’d found out. He had a prominent, aquiline nose and plush lips under a small mustache that he’d instructed your mother to keep.

He was handsome, albeit in a roguish way. And you couldn't look away.

He hadn’t said a word to you since he saw the dark bruise on your wrist earlier. You didn’t know what he even would say, if anything. You doubted he even cared.

“Did you hear me?”

Your father’s voice tore your eyes from the mercenary eating across from you. You blinked.

“Pardon me?”

Your father’s kind eyes narrowed in a smile. You were glad he wasn’t so ill that we couldn’t join you for supper. It seemed you saw less and less of him lately.

“I said, I don’t want you going to the square alone any longer. I have heard talk of…unsavory people about recently.”

“I don’t go alone, though,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Lisbeth and I walk together.”

“Lisbeth has been forbidden to go alone as well. She will no longer meet you here beforehand. From now on, you will have an escort.”

“What?” you asked, feeling a part of you deflate.

Your walks to the square and in the woods were the only times you could escape—could pretend you were anywhere but here. He couldn’t take that away from you. He couldn’t.

“It is decided,” your father replied, and you herald the sharp inhale of breath from the rest of the dinner table as they witnessed the exchange.

“Father, please.”

“It is decided,” he said in a deep, level voice. “It is for your own safety. Do you know what bands of criminals would do to a young girl like you?”

You were silent.

“Everyday, either Tovar or Petyr will escort you,” he continued and you started. No–anyone but Petyr. You stood up.

“Father please–”

Your mother slammed her hands on the table and sent you a piercing look. She said your name.

“That is enough,” she said. “Now sit down.”

You looked around the table at your family, eyes blurred with unshed tears. All of them avoided your gaze. All except Tovar.

You sniffed and pushed in your chair before turning on your heel and leaving, ignoring your mother’s cries after you.

- -

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar x you #pero x reader #pero tovar #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall

[prolix-yuy]

Pero Tovar and his Guerrera

The Debt: Pero Tovar x F!Reader (Part 1)

Stop That, Right Now: Pero Tovar x F!Reader (Part 2)

Coming Due: Pero Tovar x F!Reader (Part 3)

Teamwork: Pero Tovar x F!Reader (Part 4)

Bangathon Interlude (Part 5)

#fanfic masterlist #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x f!reader #pero x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #pero x you #pero x f!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar and his guerrera

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 1

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems. ✨ Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 9.2k Warnings: Graphic depictions of illness. Summary: Near death, Pero ends up in the care of a strange woman who insists on wearing a mask over her face.  Notes: This fic deals with comparisons between modern medicine and folk healing methods. References to vaccinations and modern medical procedures will be littered throughout the text as well as some herbal/folk remedies when appropriate. There will be criticism of medieval medical procedures (leeches, bloodletting, humours, etc), but *not* of cultural or spiritual belief. We came here to have fun and be respectful, and that’s what we’re gonna do. Great Big Beautiful Shout Out to @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa and her Outlander-inspired series The Sunshine Undertow. It is brilliant reading and a compelling characterization of Oberyn 💖

Leaning over his saddle, practically flattening his body against the horse’s neck, Pero Tovar coughs so hard that his eyes water, black spots dancing in his vision and he feels lightheaded. Spittle and blood flying into the dirty rag he has pressed against his mouth. The bitter winds howl around him, slicing through the openings in the armor and cutting him to the bone. He needs shelter, he needs warmth, but honestly at this point – he’s praying for death.

The cottage in the distance is barely a dot on the horizon, stone walls and thatched roof blending into the gray skyline. There is barely a trail for his horse to follow, but the squawk of a chicken catches the beast's attention and that becomes the direction to move in. The cold is moving in and the rains have been heavy, making his horse's hooves squelch in the mud with each step, but the noise barely reaches him. If he could focus his sight, Pero would see the figure of a woman in the distance carrying a basket of vegetables from somewhere just out of sight.

The grip on his reins loosens, weak and shivering. He had thought the desert was cold, but this is frigid. The sodden under layers under his leathers are keeping him soaked. “Shit.” He hisses, right before another cough wracks his body. Claiming his breath and making his eyes close from the force. In the middle of a particularly harsh and painful cough – he slides off the side of his horse to land into the wet mud less than one yard from shelter.

If you were to curse the universe for dropping an ill man on your doorstep, it would be disingenuous. There is nothing to be gained from cursing something that is an inconvenience for you but a mercy for this sick man. There may be no better place on Earth in this particular time for this man to be deposited, given the fact that doctors in the year 1005 tend to lean toward treatments like leaching and bleeding and consulting astrological charts to determine which humours are responsible for the patient’s afflictions.

Quickly setting your basket out of reach of the chicken, you reach up to stroke the horse's matted mane. Animals don’t seem to be any different here and now than the ones you grew up with, so at least this horse is something of a known quantity. "Go to the river." Pointing in the direction of the forest line, you pat the horse again and nudge it onward, knowing the creature understands you better than it could hope to understand any master, but still it hesitates and knickers uncomfortably. "I will look after him," you promise softly. "Go and drink." To the man in the mud before you, however, you click your tongue and shake your head. He looks awful. Gaunt and exhausted and probably as contagious as anyone you’ve ever dealt with before. Thank goodness for vaccinations. "You are lucky to be alive, I think."

Consciousness comes in waves for Pero. Flashes of incoherent scenes. Eyes, or a lone startling eye, focuses on him while the rain beats down on his face. Then the sensation of being dragged across the wet ground. I’m dying. He thinks. Not even cold and they are stripping my body for anything of value.

"Do you always complain like this?" The man – knight, warrior, sellsword, whatever he is – has been moaning and groaning since the second you touched him, only stopping to cough or call out curses in an accent so thick that you’re not quite sure if it’s his speech or just the dialect that you don’t understand. The blood speckling the corners of his mouth made you pause, but after rearranging the scarf on your head to cover your mouth and nose, you simply carried on. Strains of disease are different here, you’re not ignorant to that, but you’re continuously aware of cleanliness in a way that the people around you are not. The threadbare blanket you can spare to lay him on in front of the fire inside your cottage will be useless now that it has been touched by sickness, but he needs it more than you do. "If you make nothing but noise, I will simply bleed you into sleep." The threat is empty, mostly because you doubt he hears you and you would never bleed anyone in the first place, but also because you do not know if he would understand you even if he could.

Pero shudders, caught in memories of the monsters at the Wall. The horrific bloodshed and carnage of the monsters that had come from the canyons to devour entire legions of men and women. Watching over and over as William and Lin Mae are caught and torn to shreds by the hungry, ravaging beasts while he is helpless to stop them. “Stop!” He cries, reaching for his sword only to find it not at his side. “Stop!”

"I won’t hurt you, traveler." His distress is obvious, but the way you keep your own mild temper in the face of all of the hardships in your life is to simply continue about your business, and you do so with a little chatter for yourself to keep things interesting. After all, being away from the life you built has definitely given you something of a hermit-like existence except for the occasional animal that finds itself by your side. "I have no interest in hurting you. In truth I have little interest in you at all but fate has deemed that we should cross paths." Though you may cross paths, you do not wish for your own to end, so you’re going to unbuckle the multiple blades he is wearing and put them far out of his reach. The last thing you need is for him to act on some random, violent hallucination he might have while you’re trying to take care of him.

Settling down, Pero’s eyes still don’t open. Dry and cracked lips part and another painful cough consumes him. Making his entire body shake and his lungs feel as if they are coming up through his mouth. Still, he doesn’t wake up, burning with fever.

Tuberculosis is not so unfamiliar to you, that you cannot identify a man suffering with it. White plague is what they call it here, or consumption, or even wasting sickness. You had watched an entire family perish in its all-consuming grasp when they were too far gone for even your particular brand of half-futuristic medicine and half-natural treatments to save them, and this man has nearly that same look about him. “Another day or two and I would be burying you, I think,” you tell him aloud, knowing that he is too far in his feverish throws to understand you. But that does not stop you from tearing a corner off the blanket where he now lies to dip into a small bowl of precious, clean water to wipe the blood and dirt from his face. “Let me see you.” Not because you expect him to be anything to look at, but because if the disease has clouded his eyes then it is too late. What you find there, however, is far more than you bargained for. There is no sickness in the traveler’s eyes, no milky film or terrible look of bloodshot fear, but a long scar cutting his left eyelid down to the cheek.

The force of your gasp nearly knocks you clean off your feet – your own hand drifting up to trace the same scar in your own flesh. Air leaves your body all at once, leaving you to stare at the stranger in front of your cooking fire in unabashed confusion. Your hands seek out the other marks, pulling at his clothing to reveal the silver whisper of a gash on his left shoulder. The deep puncture in his right arm. If he is who he appears to be, he will have countless marks on his back from a beating you received in the stocks a few years ago. He will have the marks of a thousand battles marring his flesh. You dive for the cabinet across the room – the place where you store some tools of your trade as a healer in this time. Personal protective equipment in this time is very different, but you still have a mask and gloves to wear with contagious patients. Apparently you’ll need that mask for more than one reason this time. If he survives the peak of the infection, you don’t want him seeing your face. Your scars. Knowing what you are to him. How the fuck would you explain your story to him if he did? Would you even bother? You had really never thought about it. It had never been a possibility that you considered before right this second.

“So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” You huff quietly, returning to his side when you feel like you can breathe again and shaking your head at the traveler's mysterious appearance. The mysterious world at large has seen fit to lead him to your doorstep when he is most in need, and you will not fail him. Maybe he is the reason you ended up here in the first place, and isn’t that a terrifying idea for you to ponder. Reaching for your cauldron, precious stream water is poured inside along with precisely chosen herbs and roots from your stored collection. However it is in your power to help him, you will. You just have to hope that it’s enough.

Pero is a boy again, hanging on the edges of his mother’s tatty skirts as she goes about her chores. A time where he was happy, his life relatively simple. “Un día encontrarás a la mujer que lleva tus marcas, Pero. Entonces ella será con quien pases tus días.” One day you will find the woman who wears your marks, Pero. Then she will be the one you spend your days with.

Pero’s scowl is instantaneous. “No, mamá. Pasaré mis días contigo. Me haré rico y te compraré hermosos vestidos.” No, mama. I will spend my days with you. I will become rich and buy you beautiful dresses. He insists, although he has no theory of how that would happen. The wooden coin used to buy a loaf of bread was precious to him. Still, he clings to his mother and listens to her tell him grand stories about the universe's plan to bring a woman into his life, one that he was destined to love and make a family with. “Mamá.” Pero mutters, shaking under the thin blanket, his teeth chattering.

“There are no mamás here, traveler.” It is interesting to hear what he calls out from inside his sickness – no longer wanting something or someone to stop and now yearning for his mother as so many men and children do when they fear their end. “But think of her if she gives you comfort. I will not stop you.” Thyme, mallow root, mint, and a small knob of ginger from the crop you’ve been cultivating for over two years now will not taste of anything kingly or delicious when it has seeped into the water in the cauldron over the fire, but it will begin to ease him slowly. Likewise, the large stone mortar under the window of your cottage will be an essential tool to help him, once you have collected the ingredients for the anti-inflammatory paste you’ll rub on his forehead and into his joints to relieve their pains. That will have to wait until his fever passes. Until you’re sure he’ll survive.

Groaning, Pero continues to have flashes of different periods of his life. Burying his mamá and leaving home, unable to bear the heartache he saw in his papa’s eyes. The old man just seemed to give up his will to live when his soulmate had passed. He promised to send coins home, but his father hadn’t lasted a year. Alone in the world, he had drifted and sold his sword, fighting had always been something he was good at. Without his dear mamá’s gentle voice, he had become harder, more ruthless and it improved his skills. Meeting up with William Garin, begrudgingly forming an alliance and eventually a friendship with the man. Only to end up turning around and going back to the wall with him and witnessing his marriage to Lin Mae. Setting off once more, alone again.

******

The traveler's fits last a week. Tonics, ointments, healing pastes, and potions depleting your stores and sending you out to forage again and again to make sure he has enough. Leaving him alone doesn’t sit well with you, but in order to push him past the worst of his infection and to attend to his horse – as well as look after your own animals – you must leave him under the watchful eye of the cat that has lived by your side and done your hunting since almost the day you arrived in this time. Seven long years and she has been your constant companion. Binx will come and fetch you in the woods if the traveler takes a turn – she has done it for other ill men before.

His eyes open, slowly, and he feels that he has been in a fog. Bleary eyed and seeing a black blob in front of him. Blinking and reaching for his waist, only to find that he is naked and his dagger is missing. Slowly his vision comes into focus as he tries to move back. Yellow eyes watch him. A cat, nearly as still as a statue is perched on a stool, hovering over him. “Where–” His eyes feel heavy again and he’s helpless to stop them from closing again.

The cat tilts its head, meowing loudly before leaping off of its perch and barreling out the cracked-open front door of the cottage to retrieve you. She leaves behind a cup of steeped herbs that is still barely warm and a small cup of barley porridge that you made sure to leave out in case he woke while you were out. After no less than a week without food, he will surely be starving.

This time when he sleeps, his body isn’t wracked with tremors, and he actually doesn’t dream. His body lays still and his breaths are slow and even. For the most part, he’s just in darkness.

Out by the stream, with two full buckets of water and that basket that never seems to leave your side, you're cleaning the dirt from another batch of mallow root in the clear water when your sleek, black companion cries out from a few feet away. She trots up to your side and bumps your elbow with her head, telling you to come home in that way that only she can. "Alright, Binxy. Okay." The nickname is used in times of affection and exasperation, and right now you wish she could carry one of your buckets home for you. The cottage seems a much longer walk than it is when you have so much to tote. But if the traveler is awake – or worse, on his last breath – there is no time to waste.

The door creaks open, making him stir, sensing the light coming through the doorway and the fresh air breezing over his skin. Still he doesn’t wake up again, sighing softly and settling back down.

“He lives.” There is only the barest trace of surprise in your voice, and you pick up the molded leather mask from the work table by the door to protect yourself after setting down your load. Not having the same prudish attitude toward nudity that most others in the middle ages seemed to, you had stripped him of his filthy clothes and left him in one of your own clean tunics – washing his things in the river and setting them aside for when he stopped sweating through his layers every night. Which he finally has. He seems distressed at not being in his own clothes, but at least he is no longer caked in mud, blood, bile, and everything else. “Can you hear me, traveler?” After listening to enough of his cries and mumbling, you decided that his accent sounds Spanish, but Medieval Spanish isn’t exactly the same dialect that your neighbors spoke back in St. Augustine, so you’re not even going to attempt to use the small amount you know.

A voice pricks at his consciousness, stirring him again. A woman’s voice, clear and strong. Pero turns his head to the sound and grunts, his tongue heavy and his mouth dry. Eyes still refusing to open as sleep wants to continue to claim him.

“Hear, yes. But maybe not understand.” Kneeling on the floor beside him, you pick up the cup of water that had been steeped with herbs and gently touch his shoulder. You don’t want to cause him any pain, but he needs to focus if he can. “Drink this.” A calm and direct order, but it is certainly an order. He will never get his strength back if he doesn’t eat and drink what little you have to share with him.

When the water touches his lips, Pero starts to greedily gulp it down, thankful for the relief it would provide. Until the bitterness hits his tongue. “Bleagh.” He pushes it away. “The water is rotten.”

"He speaks." The sarcasm and amusement lacing your voice is clear as day behind your mask. "It is not rotten, traveler. It is for healing. Drink.”

He huffs when the water is shoved back in his face and his lashes flutter, finally opening when he reluctantly starts to drink again.

“Good.” Only when he has drunk the entire cup do you rock back on your heels, studying him intently for a moment. Through his scraggly beard and long hair, it has been hard to see the man underneath. Except, of course, for his scars. Not that you even want to know what he really looks like under months of facial hair and an unintentional mullet. You can’t tell if it would be better or worse to be attracted to his face – seeing him naked wreaked enough havoc on your celibacy streak. “Can you tell me your name, traveler?”

Pero looks up at this figure over him in confusion for a moment before he realizes that there is a mask over the stranger’s face, hair covering one of the eyes. The lone eye that stares at him is sharp, intelligent. For some odd reason he doesn’t feel in danger, although that could be due to the fact that this person, this woman, obviously cared for him. “Pero.” He croaks out. “Pero Tovar.”

"Pero Tovar." Repeating the name is heavy on your tongue, but something about it is almost lyrical and pleasant. Definitely Spanish. You knew you could place the accent. "You are lucky, Pero Tovar." You tell him, picking up the bowl of porridge from nearby to spoon some up for him. "It appears you will survive."

“Is there a choice?” He grumbles before opening his mouth in mostly self-defense before you shoved the spoon into his lips.

You raise an eyebrow at him, knowing he can’t see the smirk on your face under the mask. “I could have left you in the muck and shit outside my door to let you die.” You tell him honestly.

Pero huffs and swallows the porridge. “I suppose I should thank you, señora.” He nods. “Gracias.” His throat is raw from the coughing, but it starts to ease up slightly from water and whatever you have mixed into the porridge.

"What is gracias?" Is it the most basic Spanish in the world that even people who don’t know more absolutely understand? Yes. But the average villager in this part of Europe in this age of no education and minimal travel wouldn’t speak this language. It would raise more questions than are worth answering for you to not pretend you don’t understand him. Instead you focus on trying to feed him.  Finding his lips is slightly harder as he moves about and speaks, but concentration is the key. Losing the use of your left eye had taken your depth perception along with it and though it had been some time since the attack, your ability to judge distances still isn’t fantastic. Spending all of your time with a fast-moving cat does help, but this Pero Tovar moves differently from your small companion.

“Thank you.” He amends in the common English you are speaking. Apparently you don’t know his native tongue, but that is fine with him. “It is Spanish. It means thank you.”

"Pero Tovar is a Spaniard?" Deciding that conversation takes precedence over food at this moment, you set the spoon back in the small bowl holding his porridge and look down at him. "Then I was right to call you traveler." There is an unshakable urge to learn about him. Anything about him. You’ll take whatever morsels he offers up. After all – you never, ever, considered the possibility that you would meet your other half out here. You would be stupid to let it just pass by.

“Where am I?” He groans as he shuffles to his elbow, his weak body protesting the small movement. He’s not felt this weak in…well, ever. It was irritating, he never likes to show weakness, even when he was dead tired and ready to collapse.

"Dol-de-Bretagnac is half a day's ride south." As his voice gets more use, it loses a bit of its rasp and his accent is beginning to become clearer – it’s similar to some you have heard before but not quite the same, making you wonder where else he has traveled. "We are in Brittany, Pero Tovar. A small village that does not see many travelers, so it is curious that two of us found our way here." France in the year 1005 is nothing like the cottagecore aesthetic you used to dream about. At least northern France isn’t. Maybe if you had made it down to Provence you would feel differently about the whole thing, but as it is, life is hard and the beauty of the forest doesn’t quite seem to make up for it ever.

“I was visiting someone.” His brow furrows. “Letting them know their son was not returning.” He had visited William’s mother, bringing her news of his marriage and a few keepsakes that William had wanted to give her. Refusing her offer to stay and ventured out once more to figure out where he was going next.

“I am sorry to hear that.” Presuming, from the state of the world, that whomever he was delivering news of is dead, you simply shake your head. “I hope you were not unjustly blamed for his loss.”

It’s surprising and a little amusing that this stranger would think him innocent. Not many people would have done the same. He shakes his head slightly. “Bastard isn’t dead, though not from lack of trying.” He grumbles, thinking about the stupid shit William had done. “He married at the Wall and chose to stay.”

"A friend, then?" To carry news of a marriage for who knows how long only to call the man a bastard? They must have been close. Best friends. Brothers, even. "It must have been a mighty wall to entice him to stay." The way he says the Wall makes you think he means the Great Wall of China, but surely he hasn’t traveled that far.

“It’s larger than you can imagine.” He tells you. “But the woman was his reason for staying. She is— fearsome there.” He chooses his words wisely, even though you can’t possibly know of her. “Fool.” He scoffs, even though he had been jealous when William had looked at Lin Mae with love and commitment. They weren’t soulmates – that he knew of – but the man had left his entire life behind to be the general’s husband.

"Many men are fools for love." You observe, finding yourself surprised at the dull ache in your chest that his words produce. From the derision he clearly holds for love or for marriage, it is maybe better that he has not seen your face. Doesn’t know that it is his soulmate who nursed him back to health over these last agonizing days. He would probably resent you, or dislike you on principle. And that isn’t something you care to face. Not in this time or the one you came from. "Your friend is not alone in his folly."

“No.” He agrees on that, certain that he would never meet his own soulmate. The only reason he knows he has one is because of the mark that everyone in the world thought was his. His eyes scan the cabin and then back to you. “Your husband is very generous to allow you to care for me.”

"Pfft." Waving one hand derisively, you shift in place beside him and reach to pet your cat. "It is only Binx and me here. Unless you count the hen outside. But it has always been Binx and me." The clever cat's loyal nature made her your constant friend, which you suppose might be a very good thing now that you know what your soulmate thinks of love. At least you will always have some companionship.

His brow rising in surprise, his eyes roam over the space again. There is a shelf along the back wall, filled with bottles and jars of every shape and size. Herbs hanging from the rafters and filling the cabin with an earthy scent. Now that he is looking, there is not any evidence of a man present. “Then you are a very brave woman.” He hums, spotting his sword and leathers piled in a corner. He’s as weak as a newborn babe, but it was still dangerous for an unwed woman to have a man in her house. Especially for so long.

"Or foolish, depending on what opinion you take." It would be more accurate to say despised, but you doubt he has any interest in your story. For now you shift backward, studying him for a long moment before you speak again. "How do you feel?"

“Like shit.” Pero grunts, sitting up a bit more and groaning. “But I am not coughing so hard I thought I would faint like a maid.” He moves slowly and his entire body feels as though he has been beaten. The sickness must have gotten worse than he realized.

"That would be the rotten water." The comment had amused you then and now it downright makes you laugh. "Your clothes are clean, Pero Tovar, but you will not be strong enough to wear your armor for some time. I'm afraid you may be stranded in Brittany for the winter."

He frowns at that announcement, thinking about the precious few coins he has. It is a rare soul that will bed down a mercenary for the winter and often the price is exorbitant unless it is a lord he will be fighting for come spring. “Damnit.”

"Have somewhere to be, do you?" Men are men. That is a universal fact of life. They are the very same here in Medieval Brittany that they were back in the States in the twenty-first century. And he may have some typically manly thing like a whore in some far off village that he was hoping to make it to before the chill set in. Certainly not a wife, considering his remark about his foolish friend.

Tovar grunts and gives a shrug, nowhere in particular to be or go if the truth were told. He had no plan beyond William’s parents. His concern was finding shelter for the winter, perhaps something to do while his sword stayed idle. “My horse?” He asks suddenly, wondering about the fate of the animal.

"In much better shape than you," you tell him honestly, though the animal had badly needed attention as well. "Sheltered." The beast had taken well to the not-quite-barn where you had previously kept a goat before the magistrate claimed it as taxes. "There has been grass enough, but I'll have to go to the village to get a load of hay before the first frost."

He frowns in confusion, not quite comprehending your meaning. After all, kindness was something rarely found in his life. “I will be out of your hair before then.” He promises, motioning to his clothes. “Take what coins you believe are fair for caring for me.”

"If I did that, you would have no coin left for the tavern in the village." While you have no intention of forcing him to stay under your roof, you do know full well that the tavern keeper will take him for everything he’s worth well before the thaw. He will be lucky not to be kicked out into the street or have his horse taken as forfeit. A sick man deserved to be treated and helped. Your sick soulmate deserved not to be deprived of all he had by the person who was meant to care for him. You rock back on your heels, moving away from him to stoke the fire. "Stay or do not stay. But I will not take your coin."

His frown deepens, not understanding. “You mean for me to stay? Here?” He asks, nodding again. “Ah, the hay.” He decides. “You have a barn for me to bunk down in.” It would be cold, but as long as his horse was cared for, he could lay beside the beast to keep warm. “I will help with chores in return for a pile of hay to sleep in.” His word isn’t worth much, but he would keep it in this case. You had saved him, after all.

“I mean I will not force a man to catch his death of cold after saving him from white plague.” Honestly, there is a hollowness left behind in your chest at the idea that the world gave you a soulmate who thinks so little of love, so you’re glad to have kept your mask on. He doesn’t know who you are to him. And he never needs to. He does, however, deserve one warning. “Only know that if you choose to remain here, the village may not welcome you.”

“They don’t accept outsiders?” He huffs, wondering why you are being cagey. He glances around again, as if there is a piece of the puzzle missing.

“No.” You push to your feet, scooping Binx up from her perch on the edge of your nearby work table and scratching the base of her head while she purrs happily. “They do not accept me.”

He wonders if you are a whore. While every man in the village would go to one, they are shunned by those same folks in daylight. He shrugs, caring little what others think of him. “No matter.” He decides. “I will kill anyone who takes issue with me.”

"Not without your strength. You'll be lucky to pick up your sword." Motioning to the bowl of porridge you left beside him, you move across the single open room of the cottage you have lived in for three years now and set Binx down in the windowsill in favor of picking up a bit of darning that needs doing. Stockings with holes will only invite more sickness come the winter time. "Start with your spoon, Pero Tovar. That is where strength begins."

Pero snorts, huffing slightly at the mothering tone that you have taken with him and glances over at you. He will refuse to admit that it makes warmth flare in his chest, reminding him of his own sweet mamá when he was ill as a boy. “That thing is staying on your face then?” He asks as he picks up the spoon, hating how right you are. He is weak.

It doesn’t have to. You know that. The tuberculosis vaccination you had the year before everything went to hell should protect you for at least another two years. But if you remove it, he will see your eye. The scar that adorns both of your skin from a viscous attack that destroyed half your sight as well as deforming you. “Yes,” you decide, swallowing the bitterness in the thing. No matter that it will hamper your already limited sight. “It stays on.”

He nods, thinking that it’s odd, but not the oddest thing he has dealt with over the past year. He swallows another bite of the porridge. “What is your name?” He asks.

Debating lying to him for a moment, you end up telling him your real name. Not what the villagers holler at you. Not what your old mistress had called you. But the name you actually consider your own. Perhaps if nothing else, you can hold on to the sound of it in your soulmate’s thick, melodious accent. “But most call me Sassenach.” It had been downright amusing, the first time it happened. The name coming with your sudden appearance in this time – albeit in a different place. Your complete and utter hyperfixation on the Outlander tv show and book series leading you on that whole debacle of a vacation and the terrifying reality that the Callanish Standing Stones at Craigh na Dun actually are a portal through time.  It had made you laugh with so much disbelief the first time one of the highlanders actually used that name for you – now it was basically a nickname.

He repeats your name and nods to you once more in greeting. “Gracias for saving my life.” He huffs, a small cough coming out, but nothing like it had been.

It should not warm you through to hear that from him. Healing is what you do – at least is has been since you got here. Your basic twenty-first century anatomical, biological, and medical knowledge combining with the basic herbal healing that the ladies in your coven had shared with you and turning you into some kind of medieval white woman. Yet to have saved him is an entirely different thing. At least, your heart thinks so. Which is fairly fucking annoying, if you say so yourself. “How do you answer ‘gracias’?” You ask softly, continuing to pretend you don’t understand him. “Say that you are welcome?”

“De nada.” He answers softly, wondering why you wish to learn the language he has spoken since birth. Although he had learned some Chinese when he was at the Wall.

You nod, looking down at your darning with far more concentration than it merits. You have never had any talent with a needle, and even the simplest tasks require double the concentration that it would cost anyone else. It is surprising, the way your chest aches, and you hate it. “De nada, Pero Tovar.”

A silence falls between you, Tovar taking slow spoonfuls of the hearty porridge and looking around the cabin. It was larger for just a woman. He wonders if your father had died recently or if this was a cottage you had moved into. The thick stone and wattle kept the wind out, although he could see some light up in the thatching overhead. You would need some roof work to be done before the snows come in. He hates working on roofs, falling is never his favorite thing to do, but it’s the least he could do to repay your surprising kindness.

"Your horse," you ask after the pause, as Binx settles comfortably in your lap. "Does he have a name?"

Pero looks up from the bowl, frowning slightly. “Horse.” He tells you, wondering why the hell he would name his horse.

“Right. Of course.” It nearly makes you laugh, the way he looks completely confused by the question, and you scratch your cat’s little head affectionately. “This is Binx. She will come when she is called. And fetches well. And also hunts small game occasionally.” The clever feline has graduated from chipmunks and field mice to squirrels and rabbits, and while the notion of skinning and dressing your own animals made you a little sick at first after a lifetime of supermarkets, you have had to adjust. Meat is expensive here, unless you procure it yourself, and you’re not exactly going around with a shotgun looking for big game.

He sends you another confused look and glances at the cat. “Gato.” He mutters to himself, never really paying much attention to the creatures. Why would he ever call one? Calling his horse, yes. But calling a cat?

“No.” Thank fuck you’re wearing a mask, it muffles the sound of your amused snort perfectly. He seems mildly offended that you would impose a name on the sweet, fluffy girl and it’s the first good laugh you’ve had in ages. “Binx.”

“Gato.” He mutters again, pointing at the feline. “Cat.” He explains, remembering that you don’t speak his tongue.

“You are Pero. I am Sassenach. She is Binx.” It’s probably much funnier to you than it should be, but she’s sitting so proudly and purring so happily in your lap that it just makes you that much more amused.

He’s never heard of a name like that before. He’s heard a lot of names, but it’s making him search for meaning. Instead of asking, he just grunts and shakes his head. A second later, curiosity gets the best of him. “Sassenach?”

“It means ‘outlander’.” You explain, feeling an odd kind of nostalgia pang for the old way of explaining the word. ”It’s from that new show Outlander!” You used to exclaim to anyone fool hearty enough to ask about the thing that would make you light up from the inside out. You would launch headlong into an explanation of Claire’s time travel from the 1940s into the 1740s via a Stonehenge-like installation of stones near Inverness in the Scottish Highlands. The very place that you and your best friend had gone on vacation now seven full years ago. Excited and giggling, the two of you had reached out and touched the center standing stone at Craigh na dun, and moments later you had found yourself feeling that same sensation of sickening falling that Claire describes as reminding her of a car wreck. Though your arrival was not as traumatic as hers in other ways, the revelation that the magic of the Stones was real had been…troubling. No matter how many times you touched, poked, punched, or slammed the flat of your hand into the rock? Nothing happened. You were stuck. With your best friend nowhere to be found. A group of travelers passing by had granted you passage in their party, and thus began your life of wandering travel and passing off your twenty-first century knowledge as healing, the same way Claire does in the story. Though, at least she was a war nurse. You didn’t have that kind of credential going for you. “When I arrived in this part of the world, it was the way the villagers referred to me.” The highlanders had been kind in many ways and not at all in others, but when you left them you had taken the name with you as a shield against the unknown. Of course you did not know the customs or the language. You were just a Sassenach. An outsider. No matter where you went.

He mulls that over in his mind and looks around the cottage again with a more critical eye. "Bruja." He decides, figuring that you spooked the religious and simple people in this village. He had learned from his travels that people feared what they did not understand, and they did not understand the things they feared.

Thank god for the mask hiding your face from his discerning eyes. You know that word as a practicing Wiccan woman in a predominantly Hispanic city, and even though your neighbors never say it with the same kind of derision he just did, it’s very obvious that he now understands exactly what the people in this time think of you.

You don't answer him and again he is reminded that you don't speak his tongue like William did. "They think you are a witch." He shovels another spoon of the food into his mouth, a little bit of strength returning and his hunger overpowering any lingering fatigue. He needs to eat to heal, he knows that and while the food is bland, it's filling.

The hope that not answering him would entice him to drop it is clearly in vain, and you carefully look between Binx in your lap and the Spaniard in front of your fire. “Yes,” you murmur finally. “That is what the people here call me.” For years now. And for reasons that have very little to do with the ointments and poultices you dole out to paying customers.

"Idiots." He huffs and rolls his eyes. "If the cock crows and shit falls from the sky it is an omen and not someone emptying the chamber pot." He doesn't care what people call you, they've called him plenty of things over the years. Most of them true, but he only took offense to the one who asked if he fucked his mother. That man died and the question was put to bed.

Exhaling a breath you didn't realize that you had been holding, you nod once in agreement. "It is not their fault that so many of them lack education," you reason. He speaks multiple language and has traveled greatly, so you are inclined to think that he is at least minimally literate which is much more than the majority of people in this time and place.

"Education is for rich lords and ladies to sit on their asses and get fat while their people starve." Another spoonful of porridge shovels its way into his mouth, swallowed before it hits his tongue and he snorts. "They like them ignorant and superstitious. The men to break their back or give their lives and the women to cook their meals or lift their skirts like a whore."

"Some would call you educated." The fact that he doesn't seem voraciously excited about the existence of prostitutes like most men you've met in this time surprises you, but it's rather a good surprise. "You speak more than one tongue. Have travelled the world. That is more knowledge than most have."

He shrugs, not denying it but his travel was for necessity. For survival. The wooden spoons scrapes the bottom of the bowl as he gets every drop of the porridge.

"Give those to me. You'll have more to eat later." You instruct, putting your stocking aside to reach for the bowl and spoon. You'll wash them thoroughly and boil them to sanitize them because being safe is far better than being sorry when your houseguest has tuberculosis. "Try to rest, Pero Tovar, your body needs it."

Pero grunts, huffing at being ordered to rest like a child, even though he’s already starting to lay back down. “Don’t turn me into a toad while I sleep, Sassenach.” He warns you. “Or I will believe you to be a bruja.”

“I shall try to restrain myself.” The joke is full of as much sarcasm as teasing, and you get up from your chair to pour water into your cauldron to sterilize his things, grabbing the cup he drank from along the way. Cauldron. The one you had at home was plastic and decorative, filled up with an LED light that turned the smoke from the miniature smoke machine to a sickly neon green. It was silly, and sat in your window every September and October for the entire month along with other choice Halloween decorations. But here? Here it is a tool. A stereotypical one, but useful nonetheless.

******

He sleeps for hours; the deep, heavy sleep of a man who has been sick. Moving little and not dreaming. Instead he lays like a stone in your floor, snoring softly as the fire crackles away in the hearth.

Barley porridge for dinner includes some mushrooms, wild leeks, and some dandelion greens pulled up from the forest bed, along with some chunks of rehydrated rabbit meat from what’s left of the catch that Binx brought in a week ago. You had cured half the animal with salt in the sun to preserve it, knowing that when the traveler came to, he would need the protein for strength. It’s past dark when he wakes and you are sitting with a lit candle at your work table with dried herbs on a wooden trencher and a mortar beside it. In this instance, what the villagers called witchcraft, you called a spice mix. Just because food is basic is no excuse for it to be bland.

Pero wakes up with his mouth watering. He had learned to love fragrant foods in the East, the flavors of the food that he had were like none he had ever had before. Whatever you have cooking smells different but equally delicious.

“Returned to the world, I see.” For reasons you can’t quite comprehend, teasing him feels good. Natural. A bit comforting, if you’re honest. And probably it has more to do with being soulmates than anything else, but you’re still going to enjoy it. It seems like the last time you teased anyone besides Binx was years ago. Before things changed.

Pero coughs and sits up slowly, growling as he does. He is still not completely himself, but he does feel better. Able to respond naturally to the teasing, although if it had been William, he would have tossed a dagger towards him. Bastard always caught it though, so it was more of a game.

"No witty reply?" You raise an eyebrow at him, forgetting that he can't see you behind the mask that covers most of your face.

He snorts. "Hard to be witty when I am gathering my strength to take a piss." He needs to get on his feet and shuffle outside, believing that you would be none too happy if he just pissed on your floor - earthen or not.

"Here." The clay bowl by the door is your attempt at a chamber pot, and you bring it over to him easily. "Let's save standing and walking until tomorrow, eh?" You don't want him getting to his feet only to lose his balance from dehydration and malnourishment. "Piss and then eat, if you can stomach it."

"I— I'd kill for some water." He admits, throat and mouth dry. He's slightly relieved that you have the bowl handy, although he hesitates to make sure your back is turned. He might have no manners around men, but you are a woman and obviously a good one.

"I made you some more tea." He may have termed it rotten water earlier, but it will help him heal a little faster. And this time you were slightly kinder about the flavour. "It has honey this time. So it will taste better."

His brow lifts, knowing very well how precious honey is. Often times it is hard to find and even harder to get without injury. He had a childhood friend die when they had tried to harvest some honeycomb for their mothers when they were about six. He had spent hours in agony before passing. “You would waste honey on a stranger?”

"Your throat is raw from weeks of coughing." When he pushes the bowl away you just let it sit in front of the fire, assuming that he will need it again well before you do. The cup of tea and bowl of enhanced porridge are set down beside him for when he is ready to take them, but you are careful to go back to your stool this time. Sitting beside him, treating him too sweetly, anything along those lines could be misconstrued as an advance – and while he was sleeping you had resolved not to make it seem like you were too interested in him. At least not sexually. The fact that he is staggeringly attractive does not enter into anything. "It will soothe you and help you heal."

“Thank you.” He knows that you don’t have to do anything, you could have let him die, but you didn’t. He picks up the tea and sniffs it, wrinkling his nose slightly but his thirst outweighs his distaste for the drink and he takes a large sip.

"I'll go to the village tomorrow to fetch hay." Having already eaten your supper and given Binx a few scraps of this and that, you settle back again to stare into the fire. "Cold was hanging in the air today."

“If you aren’t well liked in the village, won’t they cheat you?” He asks, draining the rest of the tea and reaching for the bowl after setting down the cup.

“They may not like me, but they are also mostly afraid of me.” You admit with a shrug. “I just mumble a few words to myself that they do not understand and suddenly everything becomes a very sensible deal.” Typically what you mutter under your breath are the names of ethnic take out dishes that you used to eat with relative frequency. Things like ekmek kadayifi and tom kha gai and pasta e fagioli typically had villagers quaking in their slippers.

He chuckles, admiring your stiff spine. “I will give you coin for the hay.” He tells you. “You wouldn’t have to buy it otherwise.”

“That is far.” It’s a reasonable thing to agree to, knowing that if you are to provide for him through the winter it will deplete your stores and cost coin down the line.

Grunting when the porridge touches his lips, he stares down at it in delight for a moment before he starts to shovel it in his mouth. It's hot this time and the savory taste and the small shreds of meat in it are just what he needs. Quickly inhaling the entire bowl and sighing softly when the spoon hits the bottom.

“Careful.” Despite the warning, there is an audible smile in your voice. It’s good to see a voracious appetite in him, and there is no small amount of satisfaction that settles in your chest at being able to take care of your soulmate. Even if he has no idea. “Not too fast. You’ll make yourself sick.”

Pero huffs, sure that he wouldn't let this meal leave his belly. Not even if he had to clamp his hand over his mouth. "The honey helped that drink but your well is gone." He tells you. "Or you have a dead animal floating in it."

“It’s from the stream in the woods.” Death is such a pervasive part of life here that sometimes you truly do forget about it. Or else maybe you try to forget.

He grunts again and scraps the bowl clean and shoves the last spoonful in his mouth. He will check upstream later on to make sure that nothing is in the water. There is no way that your little weeds in that cup made it taste like that.

Collecting his empty dishes, you drop them in the cauldron to clean and boil again, wishing you could actually give him antibiotics for real instead of having to relying on the small amount of good that things like honey, garlic, and thyme will do for him. “If you keep eating well and drinking, you should be up and about again soon.”

He knows that he will have to rest some more, he feels it, but it also chaffs. He's used to doing what he wants and nothing less. His things are in a neat pile near him and he lifts the blanket over him, curious to find out if you had completely stripped him down or if you had left him in the threadbare drawers he wore.

“You needed washing,” you tell him flatly, wondering if he’s one of those people who considers cleanliness a temptation or an indulgence. That outlook never quite made sense to you, and he doesn’t seem uptight or prudish, but you never know.

He grumbles in agreement, knowing that he hadn't wanted to strip down and wash in the cold stream when he was coughing so badly. "As soon as I can stumble to the stream, I will wash."

“Look more closely, Tovar.” Shaking your head slightly, the trace of an amused smirk graces your lips. “I washed you. White plague would have run off with you in your sleep with all that muck and blood on you.” At the very least, he definitely would have ended up with a secondary infection.

At first he doesn't remember the muck, doesn't remember falling off his horse. "Mierda." He hisses, scowling at his weakness and his cheeks burn at the idea that this woman cleaned him. "Thank you." He huffs gruffly, knowing he must have been far gone without waking and threatening you.

“I have seen far worse.” And if you never have to dress another broken bone for the rest of your life, you will be very grateful. At least Pero Tovar had been in entirely one piece when he fell – literally – into your life. “If you wish to cut your hair or clean your face, we will go to the stream when you are stronger.”

Right now, it's the last thing on his mind and he wonders what you mean by 'far worse' when you washed him. "I can deal with it." He assures you, feeling like a burden right now and it's not a feeling that he enjoys.

“Good.” Leaning back, your shoulders touch the stone wall behind you and you let out a small sigh. “It has been a long day,” you hum, mostly to yourself, but look over at him in front of the fire. Binx is curled up mere inches from the hearth to enjoy the heat, and you cannot blame her. In time, she will climb up onto your small bed with you to spend the night at your side like she always does. “Sleep if you can. I should do the same.”

His eyes follow you as you move around the cottage, another log on the fire and banked so it would burn all night long. A thick, sturdy piece of wood slides into place over the door, barring it from the inside. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you now that one good shove against the door would snap the braces on the logs keeping the wood in place. Whoever had installed it had never had their door broken down obviously.

It is easy to feel his eyes on you even if you aren’t looking, but soon enough you’re tucked into your small bed and turned to face the wall, only removing the molded leather mask from your face once you’re sure he can’t see what it was hiding. Pero Tovar never needs to know. In fact, you don’t even know what good it is for you to know. You don’t belong here. You never have. Always an outlander wherever you go.

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tovar x you #Pero Tovar x female reader #The Great Wall #soulmate au #disabled reader #descriptions of illness

[moralesispunk]

Kinktober Day Sixteen - Intercrural Sex // Blacksmith Pero Tovar 

Kinktober Masterlist / @the-purity-pen

Warnings: female reader, could be read as plus size (talk about “soft thighs”), talk of breeding kink, intercural sex, kissing

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: For those who missed my update post, last week was beyond hectic at work so I had to take a week off but I will be backdating starting where I left off which was my wonderful blacksmith Pero and the baker’s daughter (you know how much I love these two)

It didn’t take much for Pero to convince you that you should have a second baby; not when he brought it up with Sofia sleeping soundly in his arms as he walked back and forth in front of the fire looking like an absolute dream. In the month since that night it seemed like you were on each other more than usual, his mouth pressing against yours the second he climbed into bed after putting Sofia down, and while you loved every second it had meant you were a little… tender.

With his arms wrapped around your waist, his hand pressed against your stomach and his lips trailing up and down your neck you can feel how hard he is, his hips rocking against yours, and no matter how well your body responds to him, how the goosebumps travel down your spine and you grow wet from the second he touches you, there is still that lingering pain that you can’t ignore.

“Wait, Pero, wait-”

His lips stop their path down your neck, his hand gripping your hip and turning you gently onto your back as he lifts up onto his elbows.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m just- it’s just that I’m a little…” He raises his eyebrow at you and you drop your voice to a whisper. “... sore.”

“Oh.” His face can’t decide whether to be amused or concerned, the frown on your face telling him to lean towards the second. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It's okay,” you mumble, your eyes flicking down to his cock that rests heavy and hard between his legs, your hand reaching to wrap around it. “Worth it,” you mutter.

His concern cracks and a grin covers his face, winking at you as his hand spreads across your belly and his rough palm scraps across your soft skin.

“Maybe there’s something else we can do?” You begin to stroke your hand up and down his length, watching as his mouth falls open and a crease forms between his brows.

Your thumb swipes across the head of his cock before you lift your hand back, licking your palm and wrapping it back around his cock as his groan echoes around the room. As his chest begins to heave and his arm shakes as he tries to keep his weight up you stop, turning to face away from him.

“What-” You cut him off by reaching behind you, tugging him to lie down until his chest is pressed against your back and you lift your top leg as you line his cock between your pillowy thighs.

“You can fuck me like this, Pero, no?”

It takes a minute for his brain to catch up to his body, his length slick from your spit and the wetness that has already gathered between your thighs, his cock rocking up against you but not slipping inside.

“Oh,” he groans, his hand gripping your hip tight and angling you further forward. “Like this?”

You hum in response, the head of his cock nudging against your clit with every rock of his hips against the back of yours.

Pero loves all of you, every single inch of your skin has been kissed by him, but he especially loves your thighs. Soft from years of working in your father’s bakery and softer still since becoming a mother, his hands were always on them.

Whether that was as you walked by him in the kitchen and he dragged you down onto his lap, the rough pads of his fingers dancing up from your ankle to your calf, up higher and higher beneath your skirt as he made you squirm on top of him; or when he worked by your side at the market and his hand would slip down your spine until he gripped the edge of your thigh with a hold that reminded you what he had planned for when you got home; or when you were on top and riding him with your hands splayed across his broad chest and his fingers left bruises on your thighs from how hard he had gripped you.

And while there was nothing Pero loved more than being inside of you, this… this was something he didn’t even know he wanted until he had it.

He had fucked you in this same position many times, especially on nights when you both woke up sleepy but needing each other as he dragged your sleepdress up to your hips and slipped inside while your body was still cradled in his arms. Something about this was different though; he could move you more without having to worry about his cock slipping out, his fingers digging into your hips harsher as he continued to rut against you.

“Pero,” you whined, his hand moving around to the front of your thighs and then across your abdomen.

“Can I still touch you?” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear with every word. “Can I still make you feel good?”

Your head scratches up and down against the pillow, a choked whine coming from the back of your throat when his fingers press against your clit and he crowds you against the mattress. He can feel you dripping onto his cock, the very thought of how wet you have been getting from this making his thrusts grow harder and more frantic as he chases his release.

On one side is the gentleness of your pillows and sheets, ones that are so soft your whole body sinks deliciously into them, and on the other side is Pero’s hardness, the muscles of his chest and arms holding his weight above you as his strong thighs from years of selling his sword and days working the farm and blacksmiths now hitting into the back of your soft ones.

“Pero-” His name leaves your mouth in a choked whine again and he hushes you, his fingers working you slowly towards the edge.

“I know, I know. Just feel how good it is.”

You find his mouth over your shoulder, letting him swallow your gasp as you tip over the edge and your whole body shakes with pleasure as he grunts before spilling across your thighs. It’s messy, the warmth between your thighs and the kiss that has turned to teeth and tongue as you sink deeper and deeper into the mattress that Pero had bought you with the gold he keeps hidden in the horse's shed.

When your bodies slow, the kiss follows until your lips are barely brushing against one another and he pulls you back into his arms.

“Sore?” He grunts, burying his face against your neck and laying his palm flat across your stomach to hold you back against him.

“No Pero.” You reach back and scratch your hands through his shaggy hair. “Definitely not sore.”

#tppkinktober2022 #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x y/n #pero tovar x female reader #blacksmith pero

[misspearly1]

Day Nineteen: Titty Fucking - Pero Tovar

Kinktober22 List

WC: 2.4k Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Established Relationship. Playfighting + Tickling. Smut. Titty Fucking. Oral. (M Receiving) Dirty talk & Degrading remarks (Pero calls reader a slut). Praising kink. Daddy Kink (Reader calls Pero Papi). Hints of breeding kink. Mentions of wanting kids. AN: Oh, I've been looking forward to this fic! I've never wrote anything regarding titty fucking before, but I enjoyed it. I hope you do too, my loves.

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It seems uncanny to peg Pero Tovar as the sweet and playful type. Not many would agree. They would agree that his personality matches the cold and ruthless skill he has when wielding a sword but suppose all it really took for that sweet side of him to come out and play was the right woman. And you are that woman. 

Two years ago, Pero laid the sword down and bought a little cottage with you on the outskirts of a village in his motherland, and life since then has been good to you both. There isn’t a need to steal or kill to make a living anymore. You’ve settled down in a place that’s home; that you and Pero have made a home. He works at the local butchers, and you work from home, sewing and knitting the day away to sell clothing to the villagers for extra coins. 

It's a good life that you both live, and the only downside is that you don’t get to see William as often as you’d like to. He went back to China to be with his one true love Lin Mae, and you miss him dearly, as does Pero, but any day now he is due to return for a visit with Lin and their baby boy. You received word almost twelve months back about the arrival of their firstborn and their plans to come for a visit when he turns one. 

Meanwhile, you and Pero have been keeping yourselves busy by prepping day and night for their visit. The cottage you bought is small; two bedrooms, one bath, kitchen and dining areas, then the living room with big open fields all around the outside. You’ve been preparing by working on an extension. It wasn’t easy. Gathering the money for materials was difficult, but you both made ends meet and have been working hard every day. 

Now your cottage is double the size it once was. It’s spacious enough to fit two families inside and more. Outback is where all of your crops are, fenced off and protected, but out front is just big open plains of land for the eyes to enjoy for miles and miles. You and Pero are in the big open fields this evening, catching a break under the shade of a large oak tree after completing all the finishing touches for William and his family's arrival. 

“We did a good job, right amor?” The man asks while gazing across the land, his fingers rubbing circles on your arms across his chest as you cuddle him from behind. As much as you love to feel his brute strength pressed against your back in a hug, nothing beats the sight of seeing Pero physically melt when you lay behind him like this, embracing him instead. 

“Of course, we did a good job,” You tut lightly, as if disgusted with his question, though the warm smile on your lips betrays you. “Did you knock your head today and forget that we did?” You joke, eliciting the man’s body to shake with a soft chuckle escaping him as he shakes his head. Upon feeling the ambience change with high spirits, you ask another question. “Are you satisfied that we did a good job, Pero?” 

“Si bebita - I am.” He takes a long inhale of air and exhales breathily with a smile, though you were feeling playful and decided to stir him up a little. “Very well then,” You conclude with a berated tone. “Doubt loves to eat, so don’t feed it. Ok mister?” 

“Ok, señorita (ok, miss).” Pero laughs and tilts his head to look at your face, amusement of your words and tone of voice evident in his expression. He liked the authority in your tone; liked your cute attempt to be strict with him. “Chica mandona hoy. Me gusta (bossy girl today. I like it).”

“Oh, did you just call me bossy?” You gasp exaggeratedly, eyes widening like you were insulted. “I’ll show you bossy, Pero Tovar.” Darting your fingers to his ribcage, you tickle his skin and laugh at the way his body instantly reacts by jerking away from your touch. The man reaches for your hands through a rage of uncontrollable laughter, but you’re too quick for him and change direction. 

Prodding your fingers into his armpits now, your cheeks burn with merriment at the sweet giggly sounds he makes. “Fallarme! (Fuck!)” He yells with a smile, his beautiful brown eyes sparkling with hilarity from your actions, but you were getting too ahead of yourself, and it quickly became too much for him. Pero grabbed your hands swiftly and started to move, no doubt to get you back, but you were just as quick at escaping him. 

“No! I’m sorry!” You bark out a meaningless apology while crawling away from the tree trunk. You weren’t sorry at all for tickling him, you were just saying sorry in hopes that he'll show some mercy. Which he doesn’t. Just as quick as you made a dash for it, Pero turns and grabs your ankle, pulling you back to him.

“Oh no you don’t. Get back here.” He growls with laughter, “chica tonta (silly girl). You want to mess around, huh?” Yanking you around to lay on your back, he was forceful with his actions but not hurtful, though it sparked sexual excitement to run its course through your body and straight to your core. You like it when he gets playfully rough. 

The man enacted his revenge, tickling all of your most sensitive areas and taking pleasure in the way you squealed with laughter for him to stop. He didn’t of course, but he instead opted to drag it out as long as he could, watching your pretty face burn with joyous giggles as you fought him, which therefore only made it worse as Pero fought back. What started off as an innocent play between you and your beloved, quickly became something filthy and vulgar. 

Pero was tickling you, but he had moved up your body and carefully distributed his weight onto your stomach to pin your arms above your head when suddenly, he became aroused with thought. The tickling stopped, thankfully, but you saw him looking down at your breasts from above with a fiery look in his eyes. He thought about how perfectly his cock would fit between them. The man even tilted his head with a crooked brow, picturing the sight in his mind. 

“Oh no. I recognise that look, mister.” You scold, acting like you're not happy with that look you’re all too familiar with. Not only can you see Pero eyeing your breasts up and down, but you can see a tent starting to grow in his slacks too. He’s thinking dirty, and you love that he is. In fact, the man is thinking so hard with a smirk on his lips that he didn’t even hear what you said. 

“A penny for your thoughts, mi amor?” You ask, speaking a little louder this time in an effort to actually penetrate his dirty mind. Pero snaps out of it and looks up into your eyes, the irises expanding with lust as he smiles bashfully for being called out. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are, cariño.” He replies with a truth to disguise what’s really on his mind. 

“Hm. Care to elaborate Tovar?” You tease him skilfully. “I don’t believe that’s what you were thinking about.” You wanted to know what he was thinking about your breasts. You saw the look in his eyes, see it every day as a matter of fact. The man loves your boobs and will play with them at every given chance. If you were to choose only one weapon to defeat Pero Tovar, then that would be your breasts as they always manage to render him weak in the knees. 

“No?” Pero raises both brows and smirks at your question to know exactly what he was thinking about. He’d love to share, love to enact his dirty minded thoughts, but it’s something new for him and for you. But when you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding all innocent and sweet-like, it only fuels those sudden desires to slot his dick between plush breasts. 

“I want to put my cock right here-” He points to the middle of your chest, “-and fuck your tits until I come, querida.” 

“Oh, Pero.” You pout and bat your eyelashes, wiggling your upper body purposely so your boobs jiggle for him. “Why didn’t you just say so?” You ask rhetorically, then gaze at him with big doe eyes, the man's chest rising and falling heavily with your interest in the idea. He thought you’d shoot him down, but apparently not. You saw the way his eyes lit up; saw the way he was taken aback by your answer to what he wants to do, and you couldn’t help but find it so sexy to see him surprised and aroused that you want this too. “Well, what are you waiting for-” You lick your lips slowly, speaking with a seductive tone. “Fuck my tits, papi.” 

“Dios mío! (oh my God!)” He chokes out a grunt, brows pulling together as his cock twitches inside his pants. “Say that again.” He moans - actually moans. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, it was just for fun, you didn’t know he would actually like the term ‘papi’, but now that you know he does, you intend to use it more often. 

“Fuck my tits.” You moan too, breathily and wanton, brows contorting with bliss. “Fuck my tits until you come papi, please.” Your pleading sends the man over the edge, makes him growl and release the beast inside. Primal urges buried deep within the man are brought up to the surface with your sweet voice calling him that one word. It brings out the urge to pump you full every day until you're round and plump with his baby. 

“Ay, carajo (Holy shit).” Pero curses, removing one of his hands from your wrists to palm his aching bulge. “Ok bebé. Te follaré las tetas. (Ok, baby. I will fuck your tits).” He opens his pants and free his cock, licking the palm of his hand before pumping him length. “Open your shirt, hermosa. Go on, good girl.” You blush from the praise. Doing as you're told and popping the buttons on your shirt open; your breasts spill out with your nipples hardening as they’re exposed to the cool evening breeze. 

“Pero.” You whine, hearing him grunt from above as he fucks his fists. “You too. Take your shirt off, sexy.” Licking your lips with the request, you reach out and take hold of his cock while he pulls his shirt over his head. He moans out from the unexpected touch, stomach tensing as rolls his hips into your strokes. “Allow me, mi futura esposa (my future wife).” He looks down at you, moving your hands to the side of your tits. “Hold them here for me, like this.” 

“Si Pero.” You sigh breathily, still doing as you're told like a good girl. He leans down to spit on his cock, then spits between your breasts before you push them together. “Open that slut mouth too.” He growls, placing his hand atop of yours before notching the tip of his cock inside the little pocket your boobs were creating. You smirk at the man then open your mouth for him, your throaty moans escaping you as he rolls his hips forward. 

“There you go, that’s it.” He rewards you with his words after you suck the tip of him when it breaches through the other side. He didn’t even have to tell you. Picking up his pace and panting with each thrust, Pero slips one of his hands around the back of your head, helping you meet his actions halfway as his orgasm begins to build. “It’s so soft, cariño.” He babbles brokenly, voice cracking with his throat becoming dry. “Merida! Your tits are so soft… And warm…That tongue. It’s so wet. Don-shit! Don’t stop.” 

“I… wouldn’t… dream of… it.” You reply between each thrust, taking the tip of him in your mouth each time with a swirl on your tongue. The noises you made were obscene, the gasps and moans reaching his ears working to push him closer and closer to the edge. You loved seeing him like this above you; loved seeing the way his face transforms as he loses himself. His movements became sloppy, laboured and ragged, chasing his high as he drank in your beauty with his eyes. 

“Te amo (I love you).” He hisses, jaw clenching as his brows pulls together. His peak is nearing. You can tell. Watching the muscles in his biceps flex as he grabs your boobs bruisingly, you moan out from the contact. “In my mouth.” You look up at him with pleading eyes. “Come in my mouth.” 

“My pleasure, bonita (beautiful).” Pero replies, his mouth falling open into the shape of an ‘o’ as his hips stutter. You open your mouth, holding his line of sight through half lidded eyes seconds before hot ropes of his seed spill past your lips. You even stick your tongue out, humming with content as you feel him painting the inside of your mouth with his creamy spend. Audibly gulping his load back, you lick your lips and smile at him. “Thank you, papi.”  

“You don’t know how dangerous that word is, bebita.” He chuckles light-heartedly. Swinging one leg away from your body, he moves down to lay at your side then pulls you to face him. You gaze at him with a smug look on your face, knowing exactly how dangerous that word is and why. “I do know.” You say, self-satisfaction evident in your tone. “I know why calling you papi feels so special.” 

Pero shakes his head, disbelieving that you really know what he wants, but you do. You noticed it a while back when William's letter came through about the birth of his baby and you just thought it was a passing phase. Like a cloud of baby fever overtaking him, but that’s clearly not the case. He wants to be the father of your baby. It wasn’t just a passing phase. He’s thought about it ever since he fell in love with you, and in the last year, he has dreamed every night of burying his cock deep inside your cunt to plant his seed. But you don’t want a baby. 

Well, that’s what he thinks and he’s wrong. You do want a baby, his babies.

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