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cosmicjoke · 2 years

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Hange’s Sacrifice and the Culmination of Levi’s Loss and Grief

I think it can be said, without question, that the person within the Survey Corps that was Levi’s closest friend, was Hange. More than any other character, it was Hange that we always saw Levi with, it was Hange with whom Levi shared the same goal, it was Hange who Levi was partnered with the most, and Hange who, out of all his comrades, remained with him the longest, held out the longest. Certainly I think, whether you’re involved in any kind of shipping wars or not, it can’t be denied that with Hange, Levi had a closer personal relationship than just about any other of his comrades. And truly, I think, this is why it was her death, and the circumstances surrounding it, which really served as the tipping point for Levi. Which really plunged him into a state of near crippling depression. I say near, because as we know, Levi still found the strength, somehow, to keep fighting, even after she was gone. But God, it was maybe the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and that’s saying a lot, considering the amount of loss and pain he’d suffered up to that point.

To really understand just how heavy a burden, just how acute the pain of Hange’s loss on Levi was, I think it’s also necessary to look at what happens just one chapter before, I believe, when Levi is at last able to make it to his feet after being severely injured by Zeke.

We see the panel of Levi pulling himself along the deck railing of the boat the alliance is using to sail to the Azumabito port. He can barely stand, needing to grasp onto the railing, needing to lean his weight almost entirely against it just to stay on his feet. Subsequently, I would point to this exact panel whenever anyone makes the absurd claim that Levi could have fought with his comrades during the battle with the Yeagerists back at the port. No, he couldn’t have. He was barely able to fight during the final battle against Eren. But I digress. Anyway, Armin finds him and naturally expresses alarm at his being up and about, taking hold of him and telling him he should lay back down, to which Levi replies that he’s slept enough. And then he says something that’s really crucial to understanding his character, I think. He tells Armin “Besides, if I sleep much longer, all of you are going to forget I even exist.”.

What this tells us about Levi is just how much of his sense of self-worth is wrapped up in his ability to help people. If he can’t help people, from Levi’s perspective, he might as well not even exist. This truly is a heartbreaking revelation about the way Levi views himself. That he sees himself as worthless if he isn’t able to help others. It also recalls Kenny’s dying words to him, just before he went into his speech about everyone being a slave to something. He said to Levi “What are you, a hero?”. And indeed, that is the thing Levi is a slave to. It isn’t a dream of Levi’s, to be a hero, the way it was to say, Reiner. It isn’t self-serving, it isn’t to boost his own ego or standing in the world. Levi, because of his great strength, and because of the harsh and desperate circumstances of his life growing up, understanding the fragility and fleeting nature of life, feels an incredible responsibility to use it as a sword and shield for others, to protect others, to fight for others and preserve their dreams. He knew he had these abilities which were far beyond that of any other person, abilities which, for a long time, he didn’t understand the purpose of, until he was able to make his first friends in Furlan and Isabel, and he understood finally what his strength could and should be used for. Because he had this thing that nobody else seemingly did, an immense power, and so he felt it was his responsibility to use it for the sake of the people around him. He was doing this as far back as his time in the Underground, where he fought to protect not only Furlan and Isabel, and their dream of living on the surface, but other delinquents and orphaned children who sought refuge and protection under him, as part of his gang. Levi always understood his strength didn’t make him better than anyone else. It wasn’t something he ever bragged about, or felt made him superior, or more deserving than others. It wasn’t something which fed his ego, or gave him a sense of self-importance. He never saw himself as a savior. For a very long time, he didn’t even know what the point of him having his strength was. He just knew he had it, and after meeting Furlan and Isabel, understood that he could use it to keep others safe. And so eventually, in his mind, possessing this thing which nobody else had, being, in a sense, privileged to have a strength no one else had, Levi felt he owed it to others, to use what he had to their benefit.

And so, every time Levi fails to protect those around him, every time he’s unable to save another person, and they die, Levi feels the weight of that loss tenfold, because in his mind, to save them, to keep them safe, to keep them alive, was his responsibility, was his duty, was what he owed to them, with his great strength.

Now, maybe one of the truest examples of how Levi doesn’t see himself, or wish himself, or dream of himself as a hero, but rather simply is a hero, is that, in AoT’s final arc, he’s robbed of the very thing which allowed him to embody that role to begin with. He’s robbed of his strength, and rendered a physical liability even, needing to be carted around and taken care of by others in the midst of extremely precarious and uncertain circumstances. And yet, even with his strength gone, the very thing which he felt made him responsible for others in the first place, he continues to feel that way, continues to feel as if he owes it to the people around him to fight for them, and protect them, and save them. He doesn’t sit around lamenting that his strength is gone and feeling sorry for himself because of it. He doesn’t wallow in self-pity at being robbed of the thing that made him capable of protecting others, that made him special, even. Instead, he pushes past his physical weakness, forcing himself into action, even when he can barely stand, because he continues on in feeling he owes it to those around him to fight, to lay his life on the line for their lives. It isn’t Levi’s strength, then, that compels him to fight for others. It isn’t Levi’s strength that engenders in him the value with which he regards life.

Rather, it’s Levi’s heart.

He was never a hero because it was easy for him to be one. He was never a hero because he was strong. He was a hero because he understood the value in other people’s lives, and no matter his own circumstances, no matter his own abilities, or struggles, he felt he owed it to people to protect that life, to give his in exchange for theirs.

And so now we come back to Hange, and how her death, and the circumstances surrounding it, brought Levi the closest to his breaking point that we ever saw.

It’s been pointed out by others how, when Hange flies off to intercept the colossal titans, in order to give the alliance the chance they need to get the plane airborne, while all the other members of their group watch on as she fights for them, Levi isn’t able to. His eyes are fixed on the ground, a stricken expression on his face. He only looks up for a brief moment when the people around him begin to cheer, and for an instant, hope comes into his heart, that maybe Hange, somehow, miraculously, will survive and make it back to them. Only the hope is short lived, as they make it onto the plane, and Hange continues to fight, separated from them. Again, the rest of the team watches on as Hange at last succumbs to the burning heat of the steam coming off the titans, bursting into tears as she falls from the sky, and once again, Levi is unable to watch, rooted to his seat on the plane, his eyes fixed to the floor. He can’t bring himself to watch his best friend’s sacrifice. He can’t bear to witness what, to him, is his failure to give what he owes to her.

In the moments before Hange leaves, Levi calls out to her, and the obvious implication is that he’s doing so in an attempt to convince her to stop, to stay, likely with the intent to take her place, and give the alliance the time they need. Only Hange cuts him off before he can even get the words out, telling him she needs this, that this is her moment, her chance to finally live up to the role of Commander that she’s been struggling for the past five years to fulfill. Her chance, at last, to live up to the ideal that Erwin set, an ideal which, poetically, Levi himself gave Erwin the chance to embody by telling him five years earlier to “give up on (his) dream and die”.

Levi had already sensed this possibility, when Hange expressed to him her fears of what their fallen comrades would think, seeing where they were now, and where Hange herself, specifically, had lead them. Levi tells Hange that she sounds like “him”, meaning Erwin, and expresses his own dismay at the similarity, wishing her to stop, to not make the same sacrifice to duty that Erwin had made. He can’t bear to lose another friend to that. He can’t bear the burden of another failure to protect the people he cares for. And yet, shortly after, that’s exactly what happens. Hange makes it clear that she won’t be stopped, that this is what she needs, and Levi can do nothing but support her in her decision, allowing her to leave with an affirmation of their ideal, telling her to “dedicate your heart” as proof of his belief and respect in her, and what she now dies for.

But this truly is the bitterest of pills for Levi to swallow.

Just hours before, he pushed through his own physical frailty and weakness to rally to the cause of humanity, overcoming his own limitations to simply stand up and prepare for battle, to lend his arm to the fight and the protection of his comrades. He continued to feel, despite having every excuse in the world to sit this one out, that it was his duty and responsibility to fight, to give whatever he had left to his friends and fellow soldiers, and to humanity as a whole, only to have that determination thrown back in his face, as he fails yet again to protect the life of his best friend, unable to do anything as she gives her life up for the cause.

Levi’s body language following Hange’s sacrifice really says it all. Never before have we seen him so outwardly dejected and despairing. He sits with slumped shoulders, very nearly curled in on himself, as if in shame, and a visibly pained expression etched into his features, brow furrowed in what seems a struggle against tears. With Hange’s death, the weight of all his losses finally begins to bend Levi, threatening to break him. He is bowing under the weight of his anguish, brought to the brink of hopelessness, and doubt. He is struggling to find the will anymore to continue on, to find the purpose in it.

There really couldn’t have been a heavier burden for Levi to bear in that moment, then to once again have to accept another friends sacrifice, and his own inability to save them, when already he felt as if his weakened state threatened to make him useless. Hange’s death could only serve to reaffirm those feelings in Levi, that belief he holds that, if he isn’t able to help people, he may as well not even exist, so immersed is he in the notion that he owes his life to others, to their hopes and dreams. Levi has never lived for himself, he’s always placed the lives of others above his own, always regarded the value of others lives as above his own, and yet, he alone remains alive out of every close friend he ever had. The weight of that burden would be enough to break just about anyone. Any man lesser than Levi would have succumbed in that moment to utter despair, and given up.

But Levi didn’t. He didn’t give up. He kept fighting, right up until the very end. He saved more lives. And he gave meaning to every, single one of his comrades sacrifices. And after, he continued on still, in their memory, living out the life they had given their own to realize, continuing to bear the weight of their dreams on his shoulders, to make certain what they gave wasn’t given in vain.

#Levi Ackerman #hange zoë #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #SNK analysis

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gottawritesomething · 3 months

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Cry 'Havoc!'

Chapter 3 of Pride cometh before the fall (Gale FIC) (3/9)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 4.5, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Isabel breaks into Gale's Tower for tea, that's it. Send Tweet.

TW: Allusion to Mystra

Wizards of the Coast and I are nemeses, so there is a lot of non-5e-compliant magic stuff

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"“I cannot believe her. How dare she? She, she…ugh!” Gale threw up his hands.

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The day of tea arrived faster than either Gale or Isabel had expected. Gale, for his part had made a valiant effort in cleaning the tower; the selected rooms almost looked like a conventional place someone might visit. The morning of, he’d decided to concentrate his attention on the food for the afternoon. Tara lazily watched him from her perch on a kitchen shelf as he bustled back and forth between the pantry and the oven.

“Forgive an old tressym for prying further, Mr. Dekarios, but this does seem like an awful lot of effort for an acquaintance. I know you do like to put your best paw or, in your case foot forward on impressions, but certainly, this woman must already know of you and your many talents. Why such a fuss?”

“I think you mean why such a fuzz, Tara.” Gale retorts, his head inside the oven.

“I certainly do not!” Tara looked peeved. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you’d made a friend. A proper mortal friend.”

Gale smiled knowingly; Tara had been particularly insistent about him branching out recently. The more time he spent in Mystra’s presence, the less in-common he felt he had with the mortals going about their day-to-day.

“I don’t know if I’d describe her as proper…And I have only just met her; I will remind you.” Gale had returned to his erratic darting about.

“All the same, I am thrilled for you. Furthermore, we’ll get to see her magical prowess on full display today.” Tara looked strangely smug

“What are you referring to Tara?” Gale asked suspiciously

“Oh, I assumed you’d intentionally left the tower wards in place.”

Gale’s face drained “Why didn’t you say something? What time is it? What if I don’t have time to disarm them? Tara!”

“If she is timely, she should be arriving shortly,” Tara said, licking her paw absent-mindedly.

Isabel had found the tower with relative ease. Though ‘tower’ seemed to be a bit of a misnomer, it looked more like a very tall townhouse. Though the location was lovely, right along the water facing the ports. As she neared the base of the building, she noted a glowing purple figure next to the entry door.

“Good afternoon, Gale of Waterdeep would like to welcome you to his illustrious home. He greatly regrets being unable to greet you in person, but I can assure you he will come to fetch you shortly once he’s contended with a minor predicament.” The Project Image of Gale remarks cheerfully.

“May I ask what the predicament involves?” Isabel knew she was overstepping, but curiosity had gotten the better of her. As it often did.

“Suffice to say there were some ‘barriers’ to making the tower a more welcoming place for visitors.”

At that point, Isabel didn’t need much more information but decided to push further to confirm her suspicions.

“Did he leave the protection wards in place on the tower?” she asked.

The projection looked at her warily.

“At this time, Gale of Waterdeep is ensuring you have a safe and enjoyable visit.”

“While that is extremely thoughtful of him, tell him to leave them in place. I will find my own way into the tower.” Isabel knew she was being impertinent, and she also knew that Gale could see and hear through this projection as though he was standing beside her.

The smile on the project had become strained. “I must strongly advise against this course of action. The protections placed on this tower were hand-crafted by Gale of Waterdeep, Waterdeep’s foremost archmage. Any attempts to breach the tower will be met by your inevitable failure and possible harm. Please wait here for Gale.”

“I appreciate the forewarning, and IF I fail, he’s most welcome to sweep in to save me.” Isabel gave her most charming smile and turned on her heels.

“Again, I must insist -” The project started; Isabel waved her hand coating the figure in darkness.

“I cannot believe her. How dare she? She, she…ugh!” Gale threw up his hands.

“Not to state the obvious, but this is what happens when you invite a stranger to your home,” Tara replied simply. At this point, Gale couldn’t help but feel she was right. What did this girl think she was doing? He’d thought she contained many traits but blatant stupidity was not one he’d noted. He knew, as he’d thought she did, that however talented she was, they were not matched in ability. Attempts to break his warding could cause her harm, if not worse, for some of the more complex ones. She’d blinded his Project Image, so she was at least clever enough to know the spell allowed him to see her. But some spell trivia was not going to save her. No, that would have to be him.

He stood up from the table where the tea had been carefully laid out. And stalked to the window, glancing out, hoping to see her walking away from the tower if good sense had won out. He blew air from his nose, frustrated. He’d find her, probably a step or two past his door, and send her promptly on her way. He cursed himself for being so trusting. Mortals did like to test their luck.

Behind him, the scones in the oven began to burn.

Isabel did in fact, know that there was no way she could break the wards Gale had put in place. She had instead decided to rely on what had gotten her through school with wizards. Creativity, an encyclopedic knowledge of spells after-effects, and most importantly, a considerable understanding of how wizards thought. It wasn’t their fault, she reasoned. Their casting necessitated linear procedures and clear rules. As a result, they tended to assume others would approach problems and solutions as linearly as they applied them. She suspected that were that ever to change en masse, rogues might be out of the job.

She stretched, checked the darkness was still covering the projection and began to wander around the bottom of the tower. First, she had to pinpoint where the kitchen was most likely to be. He likely had wards against teleporting, mist, and phasing, she’d reasoned, so those were out. As she gazed up at the tower, she noted a window near the top that appeared to have steam or smoke rising out of it. She cast fly and took off towards the window, hoping very much for her sake that it was not laboratory smoke. As she grew nearer, she hugged the wall as close as she could, not wanting to be spotted, and recognized the smell of burning pastries. Excellent.

She had surmised that, like most, wizards expected attempts to breach their towers to come from the entry or the roof. As such, most wards would be oriented in such a way to reflect that mindset. Additionally, (she very much hoped) they had been calibrated on the direct impact of a spell. The appearance after a teleport spell, the mist form solidifying, etc. Cast, result. Most wards she’d encountered focused on those two steps. She was angling exclusively for the third step, resolution.

Gale had sent out Tara and an Scrying Eye to look for Isabel when he hadn’t immediately found her in the entryway. He still maintained hope that she’d perhaps given up and gone home. He was stewing in self-pity when he heard a great grinding noise coming from his kitchen wall. He swung his head, seeing the edges of a corridor attempting to open up in the side of his tower.

“Did you honestly think I didn’t ward against a Passwall?” Gale shouted through the layer of wall still remaining.

“I was positive you had, actually.” He heard a muffled response. He considered peeling away the ward that was preventing the wall from fully opening, but the embarrassment he’d suffered was already too grievous. Gale was feeling exceedingly vindicated, with just a touch of relief that she’d not been skewered on a trap below.

“So shall we have tea through 3 feet of stone for the next hour until the spell fades?” He asked smugly. Again, a muffled shouted response.

“No need; I’ll be with you shortly!” With that, Gale watched the edges of the corridor fade, marking the dissolution of the spell. She’d given up. As Gale had suspected, she would. He stood, leaned out the window to call to Tara, and turned back to the wall. Where Isabel now stood leaned against it.

“That is not possible,” Gale said incredulously.

“Not to argue, but clearly, it is as I am here.” Isabel was clearly at war with herself as her smugness seeped through her attempt to placate him with a smile.

Gale strode forward. Was this an illusionary copy of herself? Had the corridor been an illusion?

If he had not been so incensed, he might have noted that the woman looked vastly more put together. Her copper curls pulled slightly back, framing her face; she’d traded her plain black serving robe for a deep green velvet robe corsetted with brown leather. He might have allowed himself to notice those things if he wasn’t containing his fuming.

“How?” He asked simply; other words may have been harsher than he’d liked.

Isabel’s eyes betrayed she’d realized she’d pushed him too far.

“When the passwall spell resolves, it was designed to prevent people from being caught inside the generated tunnel. So it deposits them to the nearest safe surface. I had also ended my fly spell, so outside the tower would have sent me plummeting down, so as far as the spell was considered, inside was the safest place it could place me.” She carefully explained.

Gale was impressed. He didn’t particularly want to be. But as he considered her plan's mechanics, he felt the anger slowly draining away. He wondered if he would have thought of such an approach. He breathed out slowly, letting the tension slide from his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Isabel mirror his relaxation.

He allowed an uneasy smile to return to his face.

“That was an unorthodox approach, but you did manage to gain entry. However, I must insist in the future, if I ask something of you, know it is for your safety and not my vanity, and please comply.”

She looked down at her robes, brushing them off. She nervously met his eyes again.

“That seems like a fair request. I apologize.”

Gale gestured to the seat across from him. Isabel strode across the room and took the place indicated.

Isabel still felt a bit like she was buzzing. She knew that sometimes she pushed the boundaries of rules or flaunted authority, but she rarely felt poorly about doing so. She liked to think she often did it to prove a point, highlight a hypocrisy, and only occasionally to prove she could. But she felt genuinely terrible. He’d invited her to his home, and she’d immediately beset him. She was somewhat shocked that he’d allowed her to stay. They had been chatting for a few minutes about her time in Waterdeep and his time at Blackstaff, and the anger seemed to have faded. Her nervousness, however, had not. She glanced around the kitchen, which was gorgeous and well-stocked. Dark cabinets lined the walls, and a lovely brick oven warmed the room. The smell of the burnt scones (which Gale had apologized profusely for) had faded leaving a woody, old library smell. She suspected he might have a few in this tower. As she turned back to him, she heard a soft rustling from the window. And glanced over.

She’d heard of tressyms before but had never gotten the privilege of seeing one in person. Isabel rose to her feet careful as to not startle it. She assumed it was Gale’s familiar but despaired at her lack of knowledge on Tressymspeak. She knew the tressym would be able to understand her but they could not converse. Carefully she bowed to the cat perched on the window.

“Ah yes, Tara this is Isabel, and though I am sure she appreciates the notion there is no need to bow.” Gale chirped cheerfully

“I showing deference to the owner of the tower.” Isabel whispered, testing the waters on teasing.

“Hmph, it appears she hasn’t died. So that is an improvement over what I expected.” Tara said, eyes narrowing.

Isabel took a step back startled, she didn’t think tressyms could speak common.

“Don’t be surprised dear. Some of us, are capable at conveying our intentions and communicating properly. Present company excluded.” Tara mimed a swat at her.

At this, Isabel looked properly ashamed. Meanwhile, Gale looked pleased that Tara could scold even this tempestuous influence of a person.

The rest of the lunch continued enjoyably, Gale confessed to some of his wilder days at Blackstaff as Isabel relayed incidents of Wild Magic gone awry. She’d gotten a hearty laugh from Gale by describing an unfortunately timed surge at a friend's wedding resulting in a displaced best man and an invisible ring bearer.

Gale had gone on to describe his connection to the Weave. That there was nothing else in the world he could ever imagine himself doing. That it consumed his every waking thought and motivation. That every form of art paled in comparison, that at any given moment he could feel the essence of the arcane whispering in the breeze. At that point, he’d looked expectantly to Isabel.

“I understand you cast with the Weave so you must be familiar. But does Wild Magic feel the same?”

There was such a shine to his eyes that Isabel couldn’t bring herself to dampen his perception of her relationship with the Weave. In truth, she had extreme respect for the Weave as a structure and infrastructure of which magic could be accessed but she’d prefer a physical painting to a conjured one. And Wild Magic was nothing like the Weave.

“I think the clearest explanation I’ve seen is Wild Magic feels like standing in the center of a raging river. Everything moves fast and with such power, your focus is always on preventing being swept away. Everything around you changes with the rapidity of the current, there are no landmarks to commit to memory, no rocks to cling to.” Isabel began.

“Fascinating. I’ve read that particularly skilled Sorcerers can harness Wild Magic in a manner of speaking.“ Gale prompted her, seeking more details. His enthusiasm was incurably contagious. Isabel felt a smile forming as she leaned in to match his energy.

“It requires extreme self-knowledge and trust in your ability while knowing your limits. You’re never going to shift the current but you know how to angle yourself to impact the flow downstream. Not getting bowled downstream alone takes a strong sense of identity and an unwillingness to lose yourself.”

Gale leaned back in his chair musing.

“For myself, the Weave acts as a brush dancing upon the canvas, a concert between the corporeal and the ineffable, unreplicable in feeling no matter the consistency of the result.”

“If you’re not a wizard what is your occupation then Isabel?” Tara interrupted, and both Gale and Isabel turned to look at her.

“Oh, I am… an Archeologist. Of sorts…”

“Mhm, and you don’t live in Waterdeep? Where do you call home then?” Isabel knew an interrogation when she saw one.

“I tend to travel, I seldom stay in one place for long. My research tends to be fairly hands-on, so I go where I am needed. I actually procured a Pradler's Portable Room rather than continuing to maintain housing in all the cities I visit.” She offered. Pulling a large gold key from her robes.

“If I recall you simply place a tiny doorway down and use the key to grow it to full size. Then unlock a door into a demi-plane. Am I correct? I’d considered an attempt to create one for traveling. You must give me a tour on your return to Waterdeep.” Gale’s eyes glistened. Isabel smiled encouragingly at him. With a start, she realized how late in the day it had become. She rose from the table.

“Speaking of visits, this was a lovely one but I’m afraid I must prepare for my departure tomorrow.” As she prepared herself to depart, words began to tumble from Gale’s mouth in rapid succession.

“Of course, apologies for keeping you. Though I insist if you would be interested in a full-time position in Waterdeep, I would be happy to assist you. Perhaps another teaching position at Blackstaff? The curator at the Piergeiron Museum owes me quite a favor, I could introduce you. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a spell exhibition by the Sorcerer at The Field of Triumph perhaps they’d be interested in your talents.” He took a quick breath in. “Regardless, feel free to alert me when you’re next in town.” His tone had smoothed out returning to it’s normal cadence. Tara perched on his shoulders as they led her to the entry.

“And here is the landing which you miraculously missed visiting.” Gale smiled cheekily. Isabel shook her head.

“Thank you for tea. Good evening to you both.” As the door swung shut Isabel heard a whispered indignation from Tara.

“Did you think to mention she was a beautiful, this ‘friend’ of yours?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Gale whispered back. With that, Isabel took off into the night.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, (Next Chapter)>Chapter 4, Chapter 4.5, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

#gale x tav #baulders gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #fanfic #gale x oc #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #baldurs gate gale

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rom-e-o · 9 months

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“Show Me How Much You Missed Me” - Ebenezer/OC (NSFW)

After spending a month away in New York to spend time with her mother, Constance DoGoode returns to her new home in London. She returns to a very eager Ebenezer, who missed his fiancée dearly, and is more than willing to show her how much he missed her.

This is an 18+ story. Minors DNI. Full story below the cut!

The past four weeks had been grueling for Ebenezer Scrooge.

Firstly, he was short one employee at the counting house, which created additional work and craziness across all fronts. Normally, this would have been only a minor annoyance. After all, he had worked alone as many individuals’ sole financial counsel after Jacob Marley had passed. Since then, Bob had filled the seat expertly. So, even without a clerk, they were hardly left wanting.

Now, it was more so that the counting house clerk happened to also be his fiancée…and he missed her dearly.

Constance DoGoode, said clerk and wife-to-be, had been away for a month to visit her mother in New York.

The lady had expressed guilt at the idea of going, but Ebenezer wouldn’t hear it.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving?” she’d asked. “I understand if you…”

“Nonsense! Go see your mother, Love,” he had urged, kissing her forehead. “Know that I will miss you and will eagerly await your return.”

He’d meant that. Since her departure, not a single night had passed where he hadn’t dreamed of her, or where his body didn’t long to embrace her.

As days turned to weeks, Ebenezer’s desires intensified, and he found it impossible to control himself once the sun set and the house assumed a discomforting stillness.

Sometimes, he’d even wake up sweating with his trousers urgently tented, a very pleasant dream interrupted by the chime of the nearby clock tower’s morning summons. Other times, when he could, he’d take himself in his hand and imagine Constance was beside him, stroking him and bringing him to blissful ruin with her body and mouth.

Needless to say, the man eagerly tracked the days remaining until her boat arrived back in port, praying all the while for her safety and happiness along the way.

Secondly, with Constance gone, the house was…vacant. Lonely. The presence of Magda during working hours helped cure some of the loneliness, but stars above, the man couldn’t imagine how he’d lived alone for so long with only Prudence to keep him company. Not the London’s finest lady was sour company by any means, but it was hardly a substitute for human interaction.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this type of ache, like a chamber was missing from his heart. In fact, he recalled with a grimace the days following Isabel’s departure where Jacob had rolled his eyes at his moping.

He’d said, “Come on, you’re wound up tighter than one of those little soldier toys! Go down to the docks, find some chit, and shag it out of your system!”

It was one of the rare times Ebenezer had not followed his elder’s advice, having seen no point in it. Even now, he felt the same. It would be purposeless if it wasn’t the person he cared for. In fact, the idea of being with anyone he didn’t have that attachment to made him uncomfortably itchy and nauseous.

The unsettling suggestion had even crossed him mind occasionally at work, as Bob had commented multiple times that he caught the man’s eye spontaneously twitching, seemingly without reason.

When the day finally came for her scheduled return, the man all but raced from the counting house and to the London Docks to meet her.

It was springtime, so he didn’t bother with a heavy coat, only donning his hat and jacket that laid crisply over his waistcoat.

“I’m heading out early, Bob,” he called over his shoulder, Prudence galloping to his side as he stood in the open doorway.

Bob glanced up knowingly, offering his business partner a wink. “Ah, is our clerk returning to British soil?”

“Finally,” he said, then blushed at the slip. Bob let out a laugh, waving away the other man’s embarrassment as if it was a fly buzzing about their office.

“Go on, I can hold down the fort,” he promised.

“Or lock up early and go home to your family,” Scrooge offered.

The redhead blinked back at him. “O-Oh. Are you serious?”

“I’m quite serious,” he replied with a grin, “In fact, take an extended weekend! You must!”

He certainly intended to tell Constance that they would be doing the same. Business could wait, he thought.

Bob didn’t have time to reply before Scrooge was out the door, nearly running down London’s moist cobblestone streets toward his destination.

<><><>

Thankfully, the docks weren’t far from Thames Street.

That gave the man plenty of time to make sure he was at the proper port and waiting in the proper location for the boat to unload its passengers.

All seemed calm upon his arrival, which eased his mind quite a bit.

No talk of ice blockages or other perils stalling the boat’s path greeted him, which served as a great relief, considering that the path of travel she took was perilously close to Canadian waters, which were known to be minefields of icebergs and strong, freezing winds.

Prudence eagerly awaited at his side, her tail pounding the pavement as it wagged anxiously. Pleased by her happiness, he reached into his pocket and brandished a dog biscuit for her. As she eagerly munched the cookie down, the silver-haired gent patted her large head fondly.

“Are you excited too, girl?”

After she finished chewing, she let out a bark of agreement, the sound sending crumbs skittering across the stones below.

He laughed, scratching under her chin expertly. After their many years together, he knew her preferences. “Well said.”

Minutes passed, and more individuals began to gather in anticipation of the boat rolling into the port. Some individuals were elders, while other included women and their children, likely waiting for their husbands to return from business trips. As people anxiously began to gather, he checked his pocket watch.

The hands read 4:15 p.m. It wouldn’t be long. Unconsciously, a grin spread across his face, and he bounced on his heels for the first time in his life that he could remember.

By the time he’d slipped the instrument back into his pocket, he heard the distant sound of a horn. Squinting, he saw a small, dark dot appear on the horizon. The children around him made the same observation and cheered, noting that the ship carrying their loved one would be rolling in shortly. Relief immediately washed over him. She’d made it.

After what felt like an eternity, the boat finally docked and he saw the crew moving about expertly, preparing the passengers to safely disembark. A large gangplank was extended between one of the boats many side doors. After a few routine protocols were recited by the vessel’s captain, passengers were allowed to get off.

Almost immediately, as if she’d been waiting near the door, a familiar redhead exited with a small ground of other passengers.

Her cobalt dress, the boning svelte and the skirt flaring at the knees to sweep the ground, was easy to notice amidst a sea of beige, brown, and pale-yellow garments. Its velvet material captured the shimmering light of the sun like starlit algae in an ethereal glade. He couldn’t help but chuckle excitedly at both the sight of her, but also her appearance. Even when faced with the threat of arduous sea travel, the woman always tried to look put together. A leftover habit from her days as a socialite, she’d told him.

He didn’t even have time to yell out to her, for she saw him the second she stepped on dry land. Even in a crowd of thousands, her eyes sought his instantly, as if he was the only person in the whole city she saw.

A smile lit up her face instantly, and she flew down the gangplank and across the dock. “Ebenezer!”

One look was all it took for his heart to begin feeling full for the first time in weeks. He surged forward to meet her in the middle, Prudence following close behind her papa’s footsteps.

Dropping her small suitcase part of the way, Constance rushed to him and threw her arms around him. He caught her easily, the momentum sending them spinning as their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Although public displays of affection were largely frowned upon across the city, it was a sort of unspoken rule that even the most prude individuals turned the other cheek when it came to couples reuniting on the docks after being separated by the sea. As a result, Ebenezer and Constance were merely one of many happy couples kissing on the bustling pier.

Even after Connie’s feet touched the ground again, their lips remained joined in a deep kiss, noses mashed against each other’s cheeks and faces angled to allow as much closeness as possible.

“I missed you so much,” Constance whispered against his lips, and his heart soared even more. He dared to hope that she had thought of him as much as he had thought of her.

Before he could reply, she kissed him again, causing him to laugh before tightening his embrace and hauling her even closer to him.

Only when they parted for air did he cup her reddened face in his warm hands and reply.

“I missed you too,” he whispered into the spring air, her lake-colored eyes captivating him. “I swear, London was darker and colder without you here with me.”

When her face reddened, the green hue of her eyes stood out even more, shifting to the color of a tropical ocean.

Backtracking to grab her suitcase, Constance bent to greet Prudence, who had patiently waited for the couple to finish their reunion before giving the woman her own onslaught of kisses.

“Aw, Prudie, I missed you too!” Constance said, laughing as the dog’s tongue lapped eagerly as her face. She held a large, bread loaf-sized paw in each hand as she smooched her right on the cold nose. “Did you take good care of your daddy while I was gone? You kept him in line, right?”

She barked in affirmation and Constance hugged the mastiff like she was a teddy bear. “Good girl!”

Linking arms, the couple left the docks and began to saunter their way back to Ebenezer’s house back on Lime Street in Cornhill. Along the way, the man asked a myriad of questions about her trip, urging to tell him everything about her visit. Specifically, he asked about her mother Theresea, whom was the main motivating force behind her visit home.

“How is your mother, my dear?” he inquired, carrying her bag with ease while Constance nested both her hands in the crook of his elbow. “I do hope she’s well. I know you wanted to check in on her.”

“She is,” Constance said, the relief palpable in her voice and on her face. “She’s got a lot of projects going on right now, but she’s pacing herself.”

“That must be stressful, to start so many passionate endeavors only to also juggle a doctor’s advice.”

“The tachycardia seems to be under control for now…they believe it was stress related. I wouldn’t be surprised. This new philanthropic project in Chelsea is a large undertaking, even for her!”

Ebenezer squeezed her hands gingerly. “You’re a very good daughter, going to check in on her. I hope you two were able to spend some time together and bond between the doctor’s visits?”

“Oh, yes!” she said gaily. “Some bohemians had set up a stage in Central Park and were performing the works of Shakespeare for audiences! They were aspiring actors, of course, looking to be discovered, but they were quite good. Oh, and I also took her to the public library, and to the sea. The ocean air does miracles, and it seemed to boost her spirits! We picnicked on the shore and played in the waves, just like we used to do when I was a little girl! Oh, Ebenezer, it was wonderful!”

Just watching her enthusiasm about spending time with her mother made the man’s heart swell with fondness. Ye gods, he loved watching her talk and talk about topics and people she was passionate about. He could listen to her for hours, never needing to interject a single word, because of how effective her words were at filling the voice of space. Listening to her talk was like listening to an entertainer or professional storyteller. It captivated him into blissful silence.

“Oh, do you need to stop by the office? I didn’t know if we had work.”

“Sod work. I fully intend on giving you a very warm welcome.”

One of her rose-colored brows lofted in obvious interest. “Oh? The lovely kiss we shared on the docks was already like something out of a romance novel, my love! Y-You needn’t spoil me further.”

“Yes, I absolutely should,” he said, the timbre of his voice thickening as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “One kiss is hardly enough to convey how much I missed you.”

She gave him a look of anticipation, her cheeks glowing, and he only chuckled in response. “You’ll see. Look, we’re almost home.”

Sure enough, they were but a few blocks away from the man’s impressive manor when his comments prompted her to pay attention to their surroundings.

He keyed in and led her inside, Prudence jogging in behind them.

Upon stepping in, the familiar scent of balsam and fir filled her lungs, and the glow of candles filled the enchanting space with orbs of warm light.

After over a month away from the home, she looked around the mansion with a wide grin upon her face. While others commented that the house appeared intimidating from the outside or that the interior’s paint was too dark and the halls too cavernous, to her, it was the warmest and safest place in all of London.

No sooner had the door shut did the sound of hurried footsteps and joyful Hungarian exclamations reach her ears. Sure enough, Magda rounded the corner moments later in an excited flurry of lace skirts and ribbons.

“You’re back, darling!” she said, throwing her arms around Constance and squeezing as tightly as if she was hugging a daughter. “I’m so glad to see you, dear! How was your trip? Good, I hope! Your cheeks look a little hollowed…did you eat properly? Do you have scurvy?”

While Constance blushed and attempted to ease the older woman’s quickly mounting concerns, Ebenezer took it upon himself to make sure he grabbed her suitcase to take upstairs to her room.

“Magda, please take Constance to the kitchen,” he said, then nodded to his wife softly. “I’ll be down in a moment, Love.”

Enchanted by the softness of his expression, she could only nod and allow herself to be whisked away by the maid and pushed into the adjacent kitchen. Prudence, meanwhile, trotted over to one of her many toys scattered near the house’s roaring fireplace, the fragrant birch wood chips giving off the nostalgic and comforting aroma of aftershave.

“You must be famished, dear,” the maid said. “Here, Mr. Scrooge made some food for you.”

Constance turned to Magda in astonishment. “What? Ebenezer made—oh! Oh my.”

The woman’s astonished sentiment was interrupted yet again by the sight of a full dinner already prepared. “I set the table to make sure everything stayed fresh, but yes. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for your return, so he learned to make your favorites.”

Surely enough, the table was filled with treats like prawn vindaloo, bread with pumpkin seeds, honeyed brie and, of course, raspberry tarts. A bouquet of calla lilies sat in the middle of the table, the snow-white petals bursting forth from the crystal vase in an explosion of freshly scented glory. Next to the vase sat an amber-colored bottle of orange cognac with a label she recognized as being from a very prestigious seller in the city.

“He learned to make all this?” Constance asked in amazement, taking in the sight with a slow sway of her head.

“I did.”

When she turned to face Magda, she found that Ebenezer had returned to fill the vacancy at her side again. He slid an arm around her and offered a lopsided grin that was almost boyish in appearance. “I, um, hope you like them. I’ll admit I’m not much of a cook, but I had help from Magda and Bob in trying out a few recipes, and I—”

His sentence was interrupted by Constance flying into his arms and kissing him gratefully, enveloping his body in waves of her skirts and a cloud of golden-red hair. He sank into the embrace willingly, the lily and pear perfume filling his nostrils and providing more sensory proof that her appearance before him was reality and not some cruel illusion.

This kiss was slightly deeper than the last, so both took glory in savoring the moment. The feeling of each other’s lips, the sensation of the other’s eyelashes fluttering against their cheeks, even the scrubbing of Ebenezer’s facial hair against her jaw. It all coalesced into a magical connection that, had they not needed oxygen, would have persisted for many more minutes uninterrupted. Even the tangle of arms created brought pleasure, the comfort he felt in her embrace bringing him more relief than he thought any bed could offer.

Although they had broken apart for oxygen sooner, it was ultimately the sound of Magda clearing her throat a beat later that snapped them out of their rosy haze.

“Mr. Scrooge, I’ll be taking my leave for the evening,” Magda said with a curtsey. “Do you require me for anything else on this night, my lord?

The man straightened his cravat shyly before reassuming a somewhat professional persona, as if he hadn’t just been spotted savoring a kiss form his beloved fiancée. The façade brought a knowing smirk to the woman’s face.

“Um, no,” he stated, his brow straight and posture proper. “No, thank you. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you very much, sir.”

“Of course. As promised, please take the night as well as the weekend off. I’ve already told Bob to do the same, so things should remain low-key around here.”

“What of your appointments, sir?”

“I should have none, but if visitors ring your home asking for me, send them my way. There will be no doorman, but the knocker should suffice.”

“Will you actually answer the door if they knock?”

A smirk graced his visage. “That, I cannot promise.”

She chuckled fondly, eyes crinkling joyfully. “Very good, sir.”

“Oh, and do give Errol my regards as well.”

The woman dipped her head again before bidding Constance one last farewell. “Do enjoy your time together, you two! Remember, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. But if you do … remember to close the curtains.”

She gave the couple a knowing wink from behind her bottle-thick glasses, which did nothing to calm the flush that was already making Ebenezer’s cheeks bloom a rather lovely shade of peach.

While Ebenezer escorted the maid to the door, Constance remained awestruck by both of Ebenezer’s acts of service to the women.

Not that he was a greedy or cruel individual normally (at least, now while she had known him), but Magda had been intentionally hired to help fill the gaps where the man realized he had shortcomings. Specifically, this included tasks like housework and cooking. Things that, previously, he’d done the bare minimum needed for survival and decent hygiene. Many days, he’d given more attention to Prudence to himself.

By the time he returned from bidding the woman farewell and making sure she had made it to her next-door abode safely, he’s also shed his day jacket and hung it on a hook near the front door. The result left him in just a white, starched shirt with suspenders linked to his nicely fitting trousers. He’d even pushed up his sleeves – and action he was very aware she appreciated.

Without missing a beat, the couple jumped back into conversation.

“Goodness gracious, an entire weekend off?” she gushed, sinking into the seat that Ebenezer pulled out for her. “That’s wonderful. Magda deserves the break.”

“Indeed, she does,” he said, nudging her up to the table before reaching for the cognac. “I offered Bob the same guidance, so the counting house will be closed as well.”

“I heard you say as much. So, no work, then?”

After a quick pour, she gratefully accepted an amber-filled goblet from him. He then went to fill his own.

“Indeed. I figured you could use some time to unwind after your travels rather than jumping right back into clerical work.”

“Well, I’m very grateful for that!” she said. “Traveling isn’t as taxing as work, but it was hardly a leisure trip. Seeing my mother was wonderful, but weeks at sea? Blech.”

He laughed in sympathy.

She angled her eyes up at them, her expression shifting from joyfulness to almost coquettish knowing. “So, you’re saying we’ll be alone in the house for the next few days?”

His eyes practically glinted at the words, rendering the need for any verbal confirmation moot. When both glasses were filled, he remained at her side as he raised his glass in celebratory regard.

“A toast.”

“You hate toasts,” she teased, but raised her glass anyway. After all, she adored them.

“I hate belabored, self-congratulatory blabbering,” he explained, “But this toast is simple, my Love.”

He raised his glass, his smile as warm as the liqueur that swirled in the crystal. “To your mother’s health, and to your safe return.”

Glowing, she clinked the rim of her glass against his.

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice catching for a second. “It is wonderful…to be home.”

<><><>

Dinner commenced on schedule, with Constance repeatedly cooing about the deliciousness of the food and Ebenezer blushing at each and every compliment she issued.

The meal was peppered with lively conversation, with him asking her questions about the city and her happily providing answers. They discussed everything from the weather (it had been balmy but chilly) to what the ladies had done each day. She also disclosed that she had visited her father’s grave to pay her respects, then reached across the table to take her fiancé’s hand.

“By the way, the flowers you sent to the hotel were amazing,” she said, almost tearing up again at the memory. “When I told mama that you’d sent one bouquet for her, one for me, and one for papa, do you know what she said? ‘He’s a keeper, Connie! Hold on to that one tight.’”

His gaze softened. “D-Did she really?”

“Yes. She said it was incredibly thoughtful of you. I think so too.”

Upon hearing that the gift had been so positively received, he heaved a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I was hoping it would be in good taste. They sent a telegraph letting me know that I’d contacted them far enough in advance for the arrangements, but I was still skeptical. You know how things happen sometimes. I’ll have to send my regards to the florist.”

With their meal long-since concluded by this point, Constance moved her chair closer to Ebenezer’s, longing to share space with the man she had been apart from for so long.

“You…were so sweet to go through all that trouble.”

“It was no trouble,” he assured, gripping her hands tightly. He laced their fingers, and she was happy to give him a ginger squeeze in return.

“Ebenezer…” she whispered. Her voice sank to an appropriate whisper, her tone matching the fading glow of the candles that had begun to burn down to the bottoms of their wicks. “I…”

“Yes?”

“I missed you so much,” she said.

“You said that earlier, Sunflower,” he teased, lifting a hand so his fingers could skim her jaw. In particular, the pad of his thumb kneaded her plush bottom lip.

“I know…but it’s true,” she sighed, leaning gradually into his touch. She felt practically magnetized to him, longing only to drift closer and closer. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved seeing my mother. I love her so dearly, and she is precious to me. Two years ago, she was really the only family I felt I had left. However, a month is the longest we’ve been apart from each other since our courtship.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, voice husky as his gaze dropped to hers. “There were many lonely days and nights without you.”

“Truly?”

“Life simply wasn’t the same,” he continued, hands falling to her waist and gently tugging her forward. She followed his silent command inch by inch before realizing she’d been lured onto his lap. Hardly minding this turn of events, she lifted a knee onto the cushion of the chair, then another, and settled comfortably upon his hips.

“Really?” she asked, her words light. Was it the cognac? No, she’s only had a small glass with food. It was him; it was always him.

“Oh, most definitely, my Sunflower.”

“Tell me how.”

Her palms sought the meat of his pectorals. Both flattened in eager unison against his chest before sliding upwards to cup his wide shoulders. Meanwhile, his touch ambled down her back, teasing at the buttons and ribbons of her dress.

“Every day at the counting house was so unearthly quiet, and each evening unbelievably dull,” he said with a heaviness, as if recalling those moments caused him physical discomfort. “And the nights…ye gods, how I writhed for you.”

Her breath hitched, making the cords of her throat jump. “You did?”

“Every night, my dear,” he swore, his hands continuing to move downward as he spoke. Eventually, they came to rest on her bum. “I would roll over to your side of the bed and just breathe in the scent of your perfume and body from your pillow. I pretended every touch of my own hand was yours instead, and every night, it still wasn’t enough.

“It was never enough. I ached for you. Not just your touch, but your laugh. Your voice. Your bloody, beautiful smile that could light all the lamps of London for a century.”

With an impish grin, he gave both cheeks a firm squeeze. While the teasing would have normally made Constance yelp, this time, their time apart had amplified her desire for any touch of his to a boiling point. Instead of merely gasping, she moaned and rolled her hips against his, seeking the tented hardness she knew was concealed by his flat-lay trousers and the skirt of her dress.

Even with the multiple fabric barriers between them, Ebenezer’s eyes sparked like flint at her reaction. In an instant, passion was magnified further. Breaths came harder; blushes burned deeper.

Then, she pleaded, “Please, show me how much you missed me.”

Flashpoint.

“Make love to me,” she gasped, gripping him, “Please.”

An insistent tug was all it took to get her to angle her head and bring their faces back together, lips crashing and arms tangling. He leaned back in the chair to help them maintain balance, his long legs keeping them sturdy even as the heat of her kiss threatened to sweep him right off his feet and into a dream.

His arms wound around her waist until their bellies were flush against each other. He felt the heat and weight of her ample bosom against his chest, which was a heavenly blessing that warred directly with the pleasure of having her lips upon his, her pink tongue sweeping over his teeth and her little gasps and moans sweetening each touch even more.

After a few more swaps of her beautiful hips, he felt a telltale stirring between his legs. The heat turned to pressure and, as he continued to melt into him, further discomfort. With a growl, he unwound one arm from her waist to snake it under her lips. Lips still clumsily meeting, he hoisted her up like a groom carrying a bride over the threshold.

He stood for the table, leaving the dishes for the morning as he carried her up the mansion’s stairs. Even with the added weight, he took them two at a time.

It was a short trip to his bedroom in no small part due to his quick haste. A swift kick opened the door to the room easily. He crossed the room and deposited her body upon his four-posted bed, chuckling in delight against her lips as he felt her body meet the mattress then bounce back up into his.

Unfortunately, a glance at the bedroom’s fireplace in his peripheral vision reminded him of an obligatory task he needed to do before they could fully savor each other’s company.

He groaned in physical pain as he pulled away.

“I…need to put out the fire,” he gasped, hands pushing her hand into the bed. “I’ll be back up in a jiffy.”

She nodded, her face wreathed in a coppery halo of hair. “Of course. I will most certainly be here.”

After a smirk and one more kiss, he immediately turned and left. The woman couldn’t resist chuckling proudly at how loud and quick his footsteps were. To be able to get such a rise out of someone many had previously deemed cold and untouchable…gods, it made her feel so wonderfully special. Also, a little dangerous.

While he was gone, Constance used the opportunity to freshen up. She dashed to the bathroom to rinse her mouth, brush her hair, and check her make-up. She would have liked to reapply her lipstick, but it would have been smudged off anyway. Instead, she fluffed her hair, undid a few buttons on her dress, and smiled giddily. He always made her feel as giggly as a schoolgirl when they were together.

She returned to the bed and, after a few more moments of waiting (which mostly included drumming her feet against the floor), decided to assist the process of coupling by shedding her dress.

Just as she removed her jacket and got started with unlacing her corset, she heard the door creak. She looked up and saw him standing there, his chest heaving from making such a quick journey, the smell of ash following him. In the rays of the sunset that glowed from the windows behind her, she saw him lit like a radiant god.

She noted the silver shine of his hair, the chiseled features of his face, and the top of his furred chest that peeked out from just beneath the open sliver of shirt.

“Beautiful,” she gasped.

He must have heard her, because he began to strut toward the bed until he stood between her knees, which she spaciously parted beneath her dress.

“Says you, goddess,” he replied, and her cheeks turned raspberry.

She watched as his chest inflated with slow, deliberate breaths, widening his already impressive frame.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered.

A smirk graced his lips as he noted her prone position, legs open and breasts swelling against the confines of the boned garment.

“Eager, are we?”

“Very much so,” she responded, batting her lashes up at him. “Um, could you assist me with…”

He needed no further prompting. With an eye-rolling level of enthusiasm, he took to tugging the tautness out of the laces until the panels became lax and fell away. As they did, Constance sighed in relief as heavy breasts was allowed to fall, allowing her bosom to slope naturally beneath the thin, lace-trimmed undershirt.

Ebenezer laid the untied corset off to the side and went to cup the generous mounds, his fingers stroking her nipples through the thin fabric. They hardened quickly against his touch, recognizing the fingertips that touched them and responding eagerly.

Constance leaned back against his broad chest, moaning in contentment as he bent his head to shower her freckled shoulders in kisses.

“Mm…I missed this,” she purred. An arm lofted up and over her shoulder to stroke his starlight-colored hair.

“Missed what, Sunflower?”

“You. Me. This.”

He hummed in agreement, trailing his kisses to the other shoulder and then to the nape of her neck.

“When I was over in New York, I…slept by myself in my hotel room, and it was so odd,” she admitted. Then, more softly, “You know…I took one of your cravats from the laundry before I went. I hope you didn’t miss it too much.”

That prompted sincere surprise from the man. He hadn’t noticed, likely because he was (ironically) too distracted by her being gone for a cravat to breach his attention threshold.

“Did you? Which one?”

“The pale yellow one with a soft brocade pattern.”

“Ah. Why did you take it? Obviously, you’re welcome to any of my clothes, but…”

She smiled, adjusting her head in his arms to meet his gaze. “It smelled like you. Your cologne. Your aftershave. Your…everything. I slept with it like a stuffed animal, and it helped me relax. It felt normal.”

He inhaled shakily at the admission. The mental image of her curled in a foreign bed, windows open to the sights and sounds of a crisp Manhattan night, his cravat wound around her slender fingers, pressed to her soft lips as she slept … ye gods, it made his heart soft as freshly made taffy.

“Constance…”

“Y-You may not want to wear it out again immediately, I didn’t just sleep with it,” she admitted, and he felt his heart lurch and trousers tighten in anticipation of the confession that was to come.

“No?”

She moaned as she felt his grip tighten on her breasts, his fingers returning to re-harden her pert nipples. A swallow and leather-light moan met his ears. “I…missed you so much. On night when I couldn’t bear it, I pressed the cravat to my face and used my other hand on myself…to try and pretend it was you. I stuffed it in my mouth, threaded it between my legs…”

F—uck, that made him hard.

“It wasn’t the same…” she continued with a sigh. Then, she inhaled sharply as she felt the creep of his fingers against the top of her thigh. She shivered through the sensation, a plea stuttering in her throat as he stroked the skin of her leg with maddening slowness.

“Continue, dear,” he beseeched, his voice velvety against the shell of her ear.

As the pads of his fingers trekked a path toward the delta of her thighs.

“M-My fingers aren’t as big as yours, s-so I couldn’t go as d-deep,” she stammered, struggling to maintain focus as he sought the short hem of her slip. He found it with ease, all while his lips continued to ravish the column of her neck, savoring the map of pulsepoints he knew so well by touch that he could navigate the plane of her flesh blindly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he teased with a little laugh.

“I guess I’m just, ah, not as skilled with my f-fingers as you,” she said, her words becoming choppy as he slipped his fingers beneath the slip. He found the swatch of fabric at the apex of her thighs and stroked it with the length of his fingers. In response, her hips rolled into his hand softly, and she let out a mewl of need.

He could already feel the warmth rolling onto his fingers, and with just a light touch – fuck – she was wet for him too. Drawing a steady breath between his teeth, he slipped his hand into her smalls and caressed her folds. Even the light touch, not even penetrating, made her gasp for him. Her spine arced against his chest, and she continued to keep her fist tightly curled in his hair.

Although they had been apart for a month, this was hardly their first song and dance. Ebenezer knew damn well what Constance wanted and what she liked. What spots were the most pleasurable, what movements drove her wild the quickest, etcetera. After the woman had just admitted she’d tried to get herself off with her own hands in his absence (all while sniffing an article of his clothing, like she was some pining woman in a romance novel) he was absolutely going to give her the foreplay she wanted and deserved.

“It feels like you’re already a bit worked up, love,” he whispered, circling the tips of his fingers lazily through the dusting of auburn coils between her legs. Her hips bucked and swayed in accordance with even the smallest flicker of movement, giving credence to his knowledge of her. Electricity arced between them, Constance panting into the dark air of the bedroom as Ebenezer ravished her with his fingers.

“Ah…hah…mmm…more,” she pleaded softly.

He sped up his movements, feeling the area grow slicker and warmer by the second. A few more swipes led him to the little bundle of nerves that would eventually help him bring her to the edge of bliss. The gem poked out from its pink hood, eagerly seeking attention and stimulation.

Each and every time he gave the gave the bud a nudge or swipe, Constance’s body tensed and arced in his arms. She would nudge her hips forward, eagerly seeking friction on the sweet spot. Yet, he teasingly lightened the pressure of moved his fingers away a few times, which earned him delicious pleas for his hands.

“Oh, E-Ebenezer, please…” she whispered, voice vacillating. “I-I want…”

“What do you want, dear?” he husked, teeth grazing her bare skin.

Her thighs bounced from strain as she opened them firmer, the edge of her slip riding completely up to her belly.

“Gods, I want you to touch me,” she said, her head lolling back until it rested on his shoulder. “Mm, I want your hands, your mouth…”

Unable to resist, he swiveled his head to place a kiss upon her cheek, savoring the softness of her profile and smoothness of her cheek against his thin lips.

Another whimper. “Mm! Y-Your cock too.”

His own hips jutted forward at his, tenting obviously against the swell of her bum. Feeling this emboldened the redhead, and she teasingly rolled her ass back and hard into the bulge. He hissed out a swear and looked up to see Constance grinning cheekily back at him.

“Two can play the teasing game,” she said with a giggle. “Now, Mr. Scrooge…why don’t you tell me how much you missed me? Or, even better, show me.”

That was it.

Turning her around in his lap, he easily found the hem of her slip and pulled the garment up and over her head. She aided the effort by raising her slender arms, glowing golden-orange from the rays of sunset streaming through the tall windows, and fluffed her strawberry waves after it was removed. Scrooge stared for a moment, transfixed at how she seemed to glow in the light, her hair bright as copper and eyes like twin stars.

Stunned, his hands inched up to cup her face, as if to truly test if she was real or not. To make sure this all wasn’t one of his many vivid, red-blooded dreams that came to him on lonely nights. When she smiled, her ruby-red lips splitting his face with a grin that could have made angels sing, he sighed in relief.

As if reading his mind, she reached up and curled her fingers around each of his wrists.

“I’m real,” she whispered. “I’m back.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed shakily.

Tasting the remnants of her own arousal as his fingers brushed her lips, she opened her mouth and prompted him to slide them into her mouth. He obeyed, his steely eyes blowing wide as her ruby-lips closed around his fingers and sucked, puckering around his long digits, and togue swiping across and tasting her slick on his calloused fingertips.

With a pop, she released the fingers and watched as he, without breaking eye-contact for a millisecond, snaked the saliva-drenched fingers between her legs and slipped them inside.

Constance’s eyes fluttered briefly at the entry, before her lips formed a smile. Watching her breasts bounce as another ragged breath shot through her lungs made his hips ache sharply, straining against the restraint of his trousers.

“M-May I…”

“Lean back, please,” Ebenezer begged, nodding eagerly. “Relax while I pleasure you.”

He hungrily descended upon the velvety skin of her inner thigh, and she threw her head back in rapture. His mouth worked her flesh pleasantly, biting and sucking until it turned a pleasant shade of purple, before moving on to a fresh spot.

“E-Ebenezer!” she cried, panting. “Mmm…oh, oh my gods…”

He smirked against her skin, her pretty vulva now deliciously close to his lips. With one swipe of his tongue, he’d be there. He’d be able to taste the woman he’d been deprived of for a month. A month too long.

“Have you missed this, Love?” he asked knowingly.

At a loss for words, all she could do was nod, her back arching and lips parted as her breath became to come faster and faster.

All the while, his eyes savored the pleasant bobbing motion of her breasts and the snapping of her ample hips. Her core muscles flexed as she moved hard against him, seeking friction and heat.

Sinking back upon the impressive width of their master bedroom’s mattress, he crooked his fingers inside her with a ‘come hither’ motion that he knew would stroke the spongy g-spot at the back of her trembling sheath. It took a few thrusts to find the right angle, but once he did, her response was glorious.

“Oh, fuck, yeees!” she screamed, close to panting.

“That’s my girl,” he seethed in satisfaction. “That’s the reaction I want.”

“Mmm, right there,” she moaned, her head thrashing back and forth. “Oh, please don’t stop. Please!”

So, he kept up his pace, arcing his fingers up and hard into her quivering body. With each jump of her hips, a moan of excitement escaped her. The more he touched, the more eagerly the sounds came. Haste became the norm, but he never let up his teasing pace, opting instead to keep her dangerously perched on the edge for as long as he could.

“What do you want?” he asked in a low whisper. Even as his fingers plunged in and out of her, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her beautifully broken expression as her restraint began to splinter and crack.

“Fuck me, please,” she sobbed, sweat beading at her brow. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

Repeating her pleas like a mantra for him, it was a sure sign. She was getting closer and closer.

“An interesting proposition,” Scrooge teased, pulling his fingers free to circle her clit before plunging them back in. “A proposition I’m eager to fulfill.”

“S-So…”

“Ah ah ah, not so fast,” he teased, chuckling at the way nearly growled at his playful delay. “I’m a diligent man after all, and you deserve the best. So, tell me how you want to fucked, and I’ll be damned sure to make it happen.”

Tossing her head, she stared at him with desperate, wet eyes.

“Slowly, softly, hard, I don’t care how,” she said, raising shaky thighs to wrap around his waist to yank him close. “Just please, get those bloody pants off and fill me up, please!”

Ebenezer hissed in pleasure. As if swearing wasn’t rare enough of an occurrence for the woman, her adopting the London accent was even more rare – and even more of a turn-on.

He broke away from her briefly, but only to rid himself of his remaining clothes.

“Bloody hell, I’ve waited an entire month to be with you like this again,” he seethed, hands racing to undo his trousers. After disrobing and casting his skivvies aside faster than he could ever recall doing, he followed her down with equal haste.

Caging her smaller form in his arms, he dipped his head to kiss her again, swallowing each moan eagerly and savoring the sultry taste of her mouth and feminine musk. Fuck, if he could bottle the adrenaline he felt every time they kissed, he’d eagerly spend the rest of his days inebriated.

After his pants dropped, his cock bobbed in relief, arcing proudly toward his navel from a groomed batch of dark hair. The phallus was swollen a shade of deep red, almost purple, the color accentuated only by the pattern of raised veins that traveled of the sides of his impressive cock.

Already leaking precum from their foreplay, he gave himself a few experimental pumps to lube himself. His erection pounded with such ferocity that even the light touches were enough to make his eyes flutter. When his steely eyes opened to refocus on her, the pale color of his irises accentuating the flush that spread up across the proud column of his neck and across his cheeks.

She swallowed thickly at the sight of her handsome fiancé standing over her, his body bared for her, his furred chest toned and puffed slightly, and his expression…gods, he looked enraptured.

“Constance,” he said, his voice no louder than a whisper. The sound was so brittle, it almost sounded as it if could shatter in the thin air. “D-Do you want…”

“No, I’m already ready,” she quivered, almost begging, “I just want to touch you. Feel you inside me.”

Unable to bear separation from him for another moment, she surged toward him and pulled him into another hard kiss. Falling in a tangle upon the mattress, she aligned her hips with the pillow and he poised himself between her thighs. Hands on her knees, he parted her legs eagerly, her folds dripping for him in yearning.

With an enthusiastic nod, he slid into her.

Rolling his hips softly at first, he advanced one inch. Then another.

“A-Ah, oh y—eeeeees,” she moaned, tipping her head back, a waterfall of strawberry blonde hair pooling beneath her. “E-Ebenezer! Yes!”

Constance arched her back, sinking against the weight of his body and kinking her spine to allow better access. It worked, and with one last euphoric nudge, he was sheathed to the hilt on her, his sac heavy against her perineum and his cock filling her snugly.

“Holy shite, Love, you’re so tight…” he huffed,” Even tighter than I remember…”

She sucked her lip between her teeth and laughed. “It’s only been a month.”

He adjusted his hips again and heard her moan vaguely beneath him.

“Ah—are you alright?”

“Gods, yes,” she gasped, her ample bosom heaving with frantic breaths. “You feel so, so good, my Adonis. So big and perfect…”

Writhing in need, she locked her ankles around his narrow hips and ground her dripping cunt hard against his pelvis. “P-Please start moving.”

He obeyed instantaneously, human desire blending seamlessly with animalistic lust. The action created a pleasant, buzzing friction between them. The scrub of his public hair on her sensitive, engorged clit only amplified the pleasure she felt. It only took a handful of thrusts before her mouth fell ajar and incoherent platitudes began to drift. Each hard thrust shook her, causing sweat to begin to bead at her brow and on her stomach, which was pressed against Ebenezer’s so snugly that even the breadth of a hair could not pass between them.

It took the couple only a minute to fall into a familiar rhythm, and he slid in and out of her easily, arcing up into her to jab the same spot deep inside her that he’d pounded with his fingers before.

Whimpering in arousal, she clung to him as tightly as possible as he reached a punishing pace and maintained it.

The sound of skin slapping skin, always something that embarrassed him to think about after the romp was over, only spurred him on in that instance.

With each thrust, both moaned in unison, until Ebenezer felt the telltale pressure in his lower abdomen begin to build. “F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m close…”

When they locked eyes in the next instant, an apricot blush illuminated her face, making her glow like a rosy blossom on a stained-glass fresco at down.

She urged him, kissing the tip of his nose. She prompted him to grip the headboard over her so she could wrap her arms around his torso and hold on. He only held on his one hand, as he used the other to drift down between her open legs and stimulate her engorged clit with added presses. He knew her body so well that he could have found her pleasure points if he was blindfolded and strung upside-down.

Magnetized to her core, his hands easily found the center of her pleasure, and molten heat caressed his fingertips. The gesture immediately changed the expression on Constance’s face from bliss to ecstasy as her voice began to climb. The movements of her hips became more frenzied, and he matched it.

Holding onto his torso with her face buried in his shoulder, she gasped and writhed against him. The precipice of glory was so, so close.

Ebenezer pressed hard into her, the pressure and heat intense. With piston-like precision and force, he continued to plow her beautiful both onto the bed’s mattress. Gentlemanly pride long-since out the window, he growled and whimpered with each breathless movement.

Then, right when the tension became unbearable, his orgasm crashed forward.

Pulling out quickly, his squeezed his shaft and pumped heavy ropes of semen across her heavy breasts and her concave stomach.

The fluid speckled across her sweat-sheened flesh like dew on leaves; an irreplaceable, organic beauty that was only rivaled by the state of her flushed face. Ruby lips, rosy cheeks, reddish hair, all beautifully harmonious. It all coalesced into an image that could rival painting of Aphrodite, or any of Botticelli’s angels.

Not one to be distracted, he quickly suppressed the initial waves of the orgasm to continue his pace in bringing her to the edge of bliss. He could tell by the rigidity of her limbs that she was close, and the way her voice nearly vibrated with tension and her head rolled back and forth, he’d seen it all before. Yet, he never grew any less stunned by it.

“Let go, goddess,” he said, his weeping cock still dripping hot seed upon her flesh. “Let do, good girl. Please.”

The last surge of praise did her in.

“E-Ebenezer! Ah, ah, AHHH!”

Her whole body reached as she curled in upon herself, then bloomed outward as strong pulses of warm, tingling relief flooded every sinew of her.

“Good, good girl…” he praised, and she whimpered loudly in return.

“Augh, gods! Oh, oh…”

Every wave of her orgasm elicited fresh sounds of blush from her, and Ebenezer watched in delight as she experienced the entire rush of her orgasm in his arms.

When the sensations subsided, her body hit the mattress with a light bounce, lungs pumping furiously beneath her chest.

After a few steadying breaths, she lifted her head to stare down at her spunk-coated body, then beamed. “Hah…wow…”

Blush returning to his face, the man went to cup her cheek. “I-I most definitely missed you, um, if you couldn’t tell.”

Tipping her head back and letting out a belly-laugh, she found the strength to use the pillow to prop herself up on the pillows to better glimpse his expression. Bringing a hand to her cheek, she gave him a bemused stare as his hands continued to trace the outline of her body.

“I certainly enjoyed that you showed me,” she teased, sliding her fingers through the spunk, testing the slick texture of it against her skin.

At this, a think brow lofted. “Enjoyed? Past tense?”

“Oh? You mean…”

With a grin, the man descended upon her again, kissing a trail up her belly until he reached her lips again, the taste of their lips and arousal blending together. When he did pull away moments later, his eyes glinted with mischief.

“Oh, there is still much more to enjoy,” he promised. “I told you, I missed you dearly, and I intend to show you just how much.”

The sentiment made her heart soar more than her favorite Italian espresso. Constance was so happy that she wanted to jump up, spin in circles, flip tables and yell her excitement from the rooftops of London. She wanted to brag to the city that the glorious Adonis of a man she called her husband wasn’t only the love of her life, but also showered her in so much love and affection that no other love could compare.

Yet, in that moment, she settled for twining her fingers at the base of his neck.

“Well, let’s not waste another moment.”

She pulled him into another kiss, and as always, he loyally followed.

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@quill-pen @crimson-phantom-designs One of the fics previewed before is finally finished!

#scrooge 2022 #scrooge netflix #scrooge: a christmas carol #scrooge x oc #oc constance dogoode

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