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fuzzyporcupine · 3 years

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lead me with your hands tied | chapter 6

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

rating: explicit

word count: 13,130

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 6:

The knock at the door had woken him with a start, loud and forceful as it echoed through the tiny room. The light shining in from the singular window blinded his sight, straining the already sleep-addled eyes. It couldn’t have been soon after dawn, and he had no idea who could possibly need to disturb him this early. Levi grumbled lowly as he sat up in the bed, throwing the furs to the side. Bare feet slid onto the stone floor, pale toes flexing on the ground. Dressed in only a thin white shift to cover his nakedness, Levi stepped to the large door. He unlocked it with quick, deft fingers, sliding the thick iron rod out of the latch.

The hinges squeaked painfully as he tugged the entrance open. Levi expected to be greeted by an annoyed Petra, maybe even the frightened servant girl, though the latter seemed highly unlikely given the fright he had caused her. However, neither was standing beyond the entryway. The only people meeting his gaze were the goddamned Royal Guard.

A cold sweat began to form on the back of his neck as a twitchy thumb tucked into a sweaty palm. The men were decorated with fine golden armor and a green silken cloak that wrapped around their wide shoulders. The uniform was customary of the Royal Guard and signified their importance to the court. His eyes flicked down to the long silver swords and black slender rifles strapped menacingly to the soldiers’ sides and backs. Swallowing hard, Levi lifted his gaze back to brave the stone-faced men. He didn’t know what could have possibly warranted the Royal Guard to arrive at his doorstep. Perhaps Eren did tell his father of Levi’s disrespect inside the studio. Perhaps this was a reckoning.

The thought had Levi’s throat tightening.

Regardless, Levi refused to be afraid. Fear was a terrible emotion. One that never seemed to do anything but scramble the brain and cause unneeded anxiety. He’d boarded that feeling up long ago and would be damned if he let it boil back up again.

One of the guards shuffled. “His Majesty requests your presence.” That sounded ominous.

He steeled himself, a pointed chin turned upwards, almost mocking. “May I be dressed or does His Majesty wish to see me prance about in my bedclothes?” If they were going to make an example of him, he’d rather it not be with his cock out.

The man’s gaze narrowed then drifted down to Levi’s bare legs. “Make haste. His Majesty does not like to wait.”

Levi grunted, quietly closing the door behind him as the guards moved to stand against the wall.

Well, wasn’t this just a right old mess?

A thought of jumping out the window and making a run for it briefly fluttered through his mind before he disregarded the idea entirely. He had no notion if the king intended something sinister or just wanted to chat. Levi decided it was not worth snapping his ankles over.

Pulling the shift over his head, Levi made quick work of getting dressed. If the king was truly impatient as the Royal Guard stated, then it was in his best interest to not dawdle.

The men were still standing outside when he exited the room. However, now he appeared to them much more decent - a linen shirt tucked nicely beneath the waist of his darkened breeches.

Without so much as a verbal cue, the Royal Guard began to march towards where Levi assumed the king was residing. He found it a good sign that the men were not dragging him along by the backs of his arms. At least they weren’t yet, anyway.

The grounds were ghostly as he was led through. Empty except for a few soldiers and a murder of crows squawking a venomous tune atop the ramparts. Leather boots sunk deep into the mud, the morning dew softening up the already well-trodden soil. It was impossible to tell which direction the guards were taking him based on the prints left in the dirt. There were so many of them, abandoned from weary horses being led to the stables and drunken soldiers stumbling in late from the tavern. Reminded him of a certain soaked fool whispering vulgar obscenities into his ear.

“I would teach you. If you begged.”

Just the memory of the words had Levi’s jaw clenching. He’d never begged for anything in his life. Not when there had been a knife pressed flush against his throat. Not when a stingy noble threatened to dock his pay. Not even when he watched the colors of Shiganshina toss flames onto everything he loved. Shit would sooner rain from the sky before Levi Ackerman begged of anything from that bastard.

“Through the door and up the stairs.” They’d stopped in front of one of the vast spherical towers attached to the curtain wall. Like a dark cloud on a stormy day, the structure cast a leaden shadow over Levi and the surrounding mud. He was close enough to the stone that if he looked up only brick and mortar would catch his gaze. Attached to the tower was a wooden door. Though not near as strong as the immense iron gate separating the village from the castle grounds, the entrance felt just as menacing. With a jaw still tightened, Levi strode forward and threw open the flimsy door with a hard tug.

The spiral staircase greeted him immediately, grey stone steps coated with a layer of dust and debris. Soft footsteps echoed as he advanced upward, almost loud enough to drown out the obnoxious beating in his chest. By the time he reached the top of the tower, his thighs were burning fiercely and an unattractive sweat had formed above his brow. The men below did not tell Levi where he should head once reaching the top, but it was not hard to decipher. A trio of Royal Guard stood behind the king as the slouching man observed the dwindling village from atop the wall. Levi approached carefully, still unsure if the encounter would end with him thrown from the battlements.

“I see the men have escorted you well.” The king continued to stare off into the distance as he spoke, voice mimicking the tiredness that dragged on the man’s expression. In the morning light, Levi saw the streaks of grey reflecting brightly against the dull brown on top of the king’s head. The war had aged the man, as most wars tended to do.

“They have, Your Majesty,” Levi confirmed.

The king hummed, thin hands gripping tightly around the stone. “I understand my son has proven to be quite difficult to work with.” Levi remained stone-faced and silent. He had no inkling of how to respond to such a loaded question. Should he remain quiet or let the king know how much of a complete idiot the prince was? Either choice seemed likely to offend. “Shall I find someone else more competent?” So, this was why the king sent for him. Not to toss him off the side of the wall or to swing a sword through his neck. But to humiliate him.

Rage rose in him like a tide receding from the shore, thumbnail digging an angry crescent into his palm. Levi’s skill had proven him to be more than competent as an artist. His portfolio saw proof of that. What he wasn’t, however, was a goddamned babysitter, especially to an overgrown child such as the prince.

“No,” he bit out dangerously. The king turned to face him then. “I’m the best damned painter in this entire bloody kingdom. By three months’ end, you’ll be able to see that for yourself.”

Are you fucking delirious?

That timeframe was impossible. Even with the best of clients, Levi typically wouldn’t have the piece delivered in under six months. And to cut that time in half? He had to be absolutely insane. That had to be it. Or maybe he just longed for death and wanted to feel the cool slice of a blade against his skin. Which might actually happen sooner rather than later. In his anger, Levi had taken several steps closer, prompting the Royal Guard to grab hold of the weapon hilts. The sight doused his anger like water over a fire. “Your Majesty,” he added quietly in the hopes that the soldiers would release their swords with the two words.

The king looked him up and down, an unimpressed stare settled within the wrinkles on the worn face. A hand was lifted and the sound of sheathed steel cut sharply through the air.

“By three months’ end,” the king said firmly. Goddammit, Ackerman. Levi nodded once, fist unclenching by his side. “You may leave.” He bowed his head, turning quickly on a booted heel. Before Levi could reach the archway, the king regarded him again. “And painter?” Levi cast a wary glance over his shoulder to find the man gazing back out again over the village. “Disrespect me again and I’ll have you flayed and dragged through the streets.”

Levi let out a nervous breath.

Of that, he had no doubt.

_______________________

Levi had not been waiting in the studio long before Petra arrived. She brought with her a remorseful expression and news that the young prince was suffering an unfortunate bout of nausea and would not be attending the session.

Like hell he wouldn’t, Levi thought as his feet marched him closer to Petra.

“Take me to his room,” he insisted, voice unyielding as the stone walls surrounding him.

“But, sir, the prince is-”

“Sleeping?” Levi interrupted. “It’s nearly midday, Ms. Ral.”

“Yes, I understand, but-”

“If the prince is well and truly ill I shall send for a doctor. Now, please.” He looked at her expectantly, watching the way a plump bottom lip wiggled in between her teeth. The woman could easily refuse him. He had not been hired to snoop into the prince’s room. Levi was there to paint, and Petra surely realized this. However, he had only a limited amount of time to complete what was seemingly an impossible portrait. One that he was certain would get him killed if it was not finished on time. He couldn’t allow Eren’s wankered morning after to place any undue setbacks on the schedule.

A tight sigh broke across her lips as she murmured, “Right this way, sir.” Levi’s shoulders relaxed as he followed the woman down the winding staircase. Her pace was brisk, hardly allowing him the opportunity to analyze the route they were taking. She said nothing as they ascended the great set of stairs in the foyer. Just continued marching until they had finally made it to a fine wooden door. “The prince is inside.”

His eyes fell to the small iron handle of the entrance and then to the golden keyhole. “Is it locked?”

Petra shook her head. “No, sir. His young Majesty only locks the door when…” She trailed off, cheeks flaring pink. Ah, Levi understood.

“Of course,” he muttered. Levi silently wondered why Eren would even bother with locks considering the scene he witnessed the night prior. “Thank you for the escort.” He raised a fist to the door, giving it two sharp knocks before closing his hand around the handle. Hopefully, the warning would be able to warn the prince of his arrival. If not, well, Levi wouldn’t necessarily be surprised.

“I shall let the guards know to ignore any screaming.”

Levi thanked her with a slight upturn of the lips as he pulled the door open and entered the bedroom.

The chambers were coated in a shadowy grey, the light from the window being held back by a thick curtain. A small table stood off to the side, a basket of uneaten fruit and a bronze pitcher sitting on top of the surface. A writing desk with a battered leg took up residence against the same wall. Miscellaneous papers were scattered everywhere atop the desk, leaving nary space vacant. Across the room, a large bed, about twice the size of his own, was fixed upon a risen platform of solid stone. Green silk cascaded around the poles holding up the canopy. Bundled in the middle amidst a pile of blankets and furs nestled the prince, a mess of brown hair sticking out from the depths of the sheets.

“Gods be kind, Petra. I said leave me be.” The voice didn’t hold quite the bite that he’s sure Eren was hoping, overly raspy from the man’s rambunctious night. Levi stepped closer to the talking lump, boots echoing off the stone floor as he went. He took in the figure moving slightly beneath the sheets, the gentle breathing causing the blankets to rise and fall in a steady motion. With swift hands, Levi gripped the coverings and ripped them from the bed, exposing the body beneath.

“Are you completely mad, you daft wench?!” Eren screamed, hands reaching out to recover the lost warmth. They paused, though, when the prince noticed who exactly had pulled the silken linens from the bed. “What are you doing here?” Eren asked, wincing as he pushed himself up into a sitting position against the plush pillows. “Come to ravage me in my bed chambers?”

“Get up,” he stated plainly, not in the mood for the prince’s teasing.

“Oh, I am up, artist.” Levi resisted the urge to strangle the bastard, biting the inside of his cheek as he marched over to the curtained window. The fabric was pulled back, and Eren threw up a quick hand against the light. “Gods, you’re fucking cruel.”

“Get up,” Levi reiterated, voice almost a growl as it snuck between clenched teeth. He felt like punching something, preferably the prince’s stupid, smug face.

“My, you are feisty today.” Eren grinned up wolfishly at Levi. “Did my father order you to speak so openly to me?”

“Your father ordered me to paint your portrait, Your Highness.” In only three months, he reminded himself. Though that fault fell on Levi’s own shoulders.

Eren yawned loudly, arms stretching high up into the air. The movement caused the man’s nightclothes to shift up, exposing thick, tan thighs. Levi tore his eyes away, a red heat tickling his neck. He silently cursed his embarrassment. Levi had seen a man naked before. Many men in fact. The communal baths were not exactly the place one would go expecting modesty. So, to have such a reaction to this complete pig of a man was humiliating. “I told you,” the prince said in between yawns, “that I would be bedridden today.”

Levi scoffed, mortification long forgotten as he stomped over to the edge of the bed. “I have promised your father a complete portrait in three fucking months. I do not intend to disappoint him.” His tone was dangerously deadly, causing Eren to nervously drop outstretched arms in a covered lap. “I expect you in the studio within the hour, Your Highness.” He turned away, leaving the prince momentarily speechless. Upon reaching the doorway, Levi paused, looking back over his shoulder to find Eren staring back in his direction with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“You’re the Prince of Shiganshina. Act like it.”

#ereri fanfic #ereri #fic: lead me with your hands tied #thespazzbot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot #attack on titan

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long-bodyswap · 5 years

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Deal With The Devil

by vchris1989

I told my son all his life to wear a hat whenever possible, but like any rebellious child, he ignored me and was convinced he was right- that the ravages of UV damage, photoaging, and skin cancer would just ignore him. I couldn’t even get him to wear sunscreen or wear sunglasses. He thinks I’m being type A just because I care about him and his well being, but the real reason is much more selfish. You see, centuries ago I accidentally made a deal with an unfriendly metaphysical entity, Yeah let’s just go with that. Doesn’t sound as bad as deal with the devil, but that’s basically what it was. I was born in an era when maintaining youth was much more difficult because we didn’t understand the importance of diet and exercise to overall physical attractiveness and youth maintenance. We didn’t even have sunscreen or understand that the sun causes over 90% of all skin aging, with the rest being a combo of diet, exercise, sleep quality, bad habits, pollution, and genes. You can see I’ve done my research, but back in the 1600′s, when I was a 45 year old man and verging on death (a respectable age of death back then), the devil heard my cry for help, which he later claimed pierced dimensional walls. I so wanted to live and be youthful again. To have a fresh start at eternal youth. However, if he had just given me an immortality/youth potion I never would have died and there wouldn’t be any soul to collect. That’s when he gave me my ultimatum; that I could possess my son, who had just turned 18, and that I could repeat this process infinitely, experiencing youth and power, and also being responsible for breeding my future vessel. I was assured that in the interim period between bodies I would be protected from disease and fatal accidents. The price for all of this would be the soul of the son I would then inhabit. I think you know what path I took…I used to be quite ashamed, but after about the fifth generation I became numb to the process. In the grand scheme of my life, this is as routine as Spring cleaning. Out with the old, in with the new. So when my son finally turned 18, I began assembling the necessary materials and reciting the incantation which by now I have memorized by heart. This is the perfect time to begin because James is out back, doing his damn sunbathing alone on our private beach. All these years have helped me accumulate quite a portfolio of wealth and investments, all of which will be transferred to James when my current descendant vessel passes upon my transfer. After finishing the incantation I blow out the last candle and collapse to the ground before my spirit is ripped out of my vessel and flies at lightning speeds towards the beach where James is out, asleep and shirtless as he perfects his bronze. My spirit flies straight down from the sky, slamming into his tight and toned stomach, making those abs contract in response as the impact sends me cascading all throughout his body in one quick swoosh. James awakens in a panic, trembling and convulsing, groaning in discomfort as he feels full beyond what is physically possible. His legs squirm together, toes curling and eyes clenched shut while he grips his hands into fists around the towel, pulling with all his might as he tries to will me out of him. James has always been a fighter- anyone could see that from the way his pecs and abs seem to be popping with effort, but it’s no use. My essence flows through his veins and fills every cell of his body, adhering and making his form my own. He screams one last echoing cry before arching his back and collapsing down onto the towel. I’m breathing super heavy, feeling young and athletic lungs expand and contract as I lay in the sand with shut eyes. My heart is racing faster than it ever could in my previous vessel, sending bursts of endorphins and young male testosterone crashing though my new veins, particularly through the veins in my new cock. This is always my favorite part! The inspection of my new body. I’ve had many generations to breed my future vessels into the handsome, cute, and athletic type like James happens to be. James might actually be my favorite so far. I mean, Fuck, the kid’s got amazing legs. Lean yet strong, and dusted with the perfect amount of manly brown hair, leading all the way up his thighs to the prize. James is one hung little fucker, just like I planned when I was breeding him. In spite of his lean physique, the wood he’s packing must be 9 inches hard, perfect thickness surrounded by a perfectly trimmed bush of brown hair. I always teach my sons the important of personal grooming- it makes my first exploration of their bodies much more enjoyable. Going up, James has a lean and toned core- the type of abs and pecs that aren’t huge, but fuck they are perfectly chiseled. There’s just a light brown treasure trail traveling down to his crotch, but I’m hopeful that when he hits his early twenties there will be more chest hair and ab hair. That’s right, because his body is all mine now. No matter how many sons I breed and take over it just never gets old- the satisfaction of entering them and stealing control of their bodies- feeling fresh lungs breathe as I test out my new voice and run my new hands all up and down my new vessel, unable to contain the smile and giddiness overtaking my new face. “You really were a good son, James,” I say as my youthful and sexy voice sends a chill down my spine. “But you make an even better vessel,” I say seductively as I reach my hands around the elastic waistband of these swim trunks, sliding them down and cooing as I rub along my abs and chest, squeezing James’ nipples and giving that meat room to grow to its full 9 inches. Squirming in the sand, I finally reach my limit and grab onto that dick, yelling ecstatically as I’m overcome by the electric pleasure cascading down my crotch all the way to my curled toes and up my tight abs and pecs, making my whole body tense up in appreciation. “Get’s better each time!” I moan as I pump my son’s meat out in the open on the sunny beach. Good thing I own the damn beach so I have some privacy. If James wasn’t sweating before, he’s fucking glistening by the time I feel his balls tightening, earth-crumbling pressure building inside me and spreading down my thighs and up my core as I grit my teeth trying to give this meat the best pounding it’s ever had. “OHHHHHHHH FFFUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!” I roar as the pressure becomes too much. I shriek as each load erupts from my cock, splashing all over my chest, abs, and face as convulsions of sensation make my back arch against my will. I’m gasping for breath as this stream of manly fluids rockets out of me, making me feel young again- ready to live again. It’s been a month and life couldn’t be better. I get so bored at these funerals after having gone to so many, but it’s just part of the routine. People tell me how sorry they are about my “dad.” I put on my best sad face, maybe even shedding a tear if I have particularly fond memories in the vessel, but by the time I get to the lawyers office and reclaim my assets in my younger body, I am smiles from ear to ear. I plan on living large for the rest of the summer before starting college. I’m always very hard on the future vessels I breed, so James was accepted to Yale University, a family tradition. While there I’ll have time to meet a suitable breeding mate to make my future vessel, but for now I can have some fun! You see, over the years I’ve had time to explore and so I would say I am bi with a slight preference for guys. This was all absolutely forbidden in my time, but what a wonderful era to be alive when I can be an 18 year-old heir to a family dynasty and fortune who loves to power-bottom with his tight, boy ass. I’ve done some exploring, and James’ hole is the best one of any vessel I have ever bred! I intend to make great use of it! This is pretty random, but I think I might change things up with my next son. Maybe move South and pressure him to get into Duke. Hell, I’ll just build them a new library or something and he should be fine. It might be a few decades away, but that’s just the blink of an eye in my perfect existence.

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mellicose · 6 years

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That Woman Over There - Chapter 19

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: Teen, for some mature themes

Word count: 4680

Warnings: none

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

A crash woke Connie from her restless slumber. Alex teetered in the foyer, looking like death warmed over. A wave of sour liquor and marijuana smoke made her eyes water.

“Little Miss Jet Set. Yo,” she said. She bumped into the side table in the hallway, and the ceramic bowl on it wobbled and fell. Connie caught it and put it back on the table. She guided her into the kitchen.

“Hair of the dog?” she said, pointing to the bottle.

Alex’s face crumpled. “Where’s Liv?”

“Sleeping. Where were you?”

She waved the question away and started up the stairs.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Alex,” Connie said. “We need to have a talk.”

“We don’t got nothing to talk about,” she said. She tried to open the bedroom door, but it was locked. Connie climbed the stairs and grabbed her hand just as she was going to pound on the door.

“No,” Connie said, giving her a steely look. For the first time, Alex appreciated their difference in height. This was the same women who had scared off two boozehounds from John’s house with a cricket bat and some choice trash talk. Despite the namecalling, she realized in short order than Connie was no posh shortbread that crumbled at the slightest pressure.

Alex deflated. She wasn’t in the mood for a fight. Not after yesterday.

“Yes, we do have plenty to talk about. I dried the tears of not one, but two people last night.”

“John?” she said, squinting at her as she walked her back into the kitchen. “You wearing his clothes now?”

She poured some liquor in a glass. “Sit. Drink. Talk to me.”

Alex looked out the window at John’s house. “You spend the night with him?”

“You reek. Where have you been?”

She collapsed into a chair and drank down the shot. “I took a taxi to my mam’s.” You could smell her five paces out.“She was having one of her little get-togethers,” she said. “Boozing it up with some friends.”

“You left your phone, and Olivia was going crazy trying to reach you,” Connie said.

“I didn’t want to ruin it - from the rain, yanno,” she said. She pointed at the glass. Connie poured.

“It this something you do often?” Connie asked. “Take a breather?”

“Haven’t done it alone in a while,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “But John just ... ran away.”

“Is he the type to run after a difficult conversation?” Connie asked.

“I didn’t think so,” Alex said. She trembled from the liquor. It was a common morning sight for Connie - her mother was often shivering and sour as she gave her cursory inspection of her uniform before she went off to school. “Maybe you should tell me. You’re getting to know him quite well.” She gave her baleful eyes, then put her face in her hands.

“You still paint?” Connie asked, apropos of nothing.

Alex peeked between her fingers at her. She thought she would be offended by her frankness. She was an odd duck.

“Not really.”

“Oh,” Connie said.

“I still get ideas. More and more now, but I’m busy, and my makeshift studio is now Monty’s bedroom.”

“You don’t even have a sketchbook, bullet journal, whatever?”

“Listen, I thought you were gonna tear me a new one about leaving Olivia, or what I confessed to John. I’m crashing hard, so get started or you’ll be ranting at a corpse.”

Connie gave her a look, then stood to make herself some coffee. As she grabbed a cup out of the cabinet, she caught of whiff of John on her skin, and smiled. Surprisingly, Alex didn’t move as she brewed and put sugar and cream into it.

She sat down, sipped, and sighed. It was very good, and the creamy richness only piqued her appetite. She was starving. She wondered what John was making her for breakfast next door-

“Oh my God, fucking say something already,” Alex croaked.

“John did not discuss what you spoke about,” she said calmly, and took another sip. She stared out the kitchen window. The sky outside was graphite with rain clouds.

Alex couldn’t restrain her groan. It wasn’t even important enough to tell Connie? Or … Olivia? So this little interrogation technique had nothing to do with it, then. She didn’t know whether to feel relief or despair.

“Do you have a portfolio?” she said. She crossed her legs. Alex noticed her[John’s] pants were a bit tight on her. They still managed to look good.

“Yeah, portfolio’s in a USB somewhere. Sketchbooks and canvases are at my mam’s gatherin’ dust. Not even she has the heart to throw them out after I told her to get rid of everything after Jo.”

Connie nodded sympathetically. It made her stomach seize, but she was able to keep last night’s excesses down.

“I’ve met a lot of people like you in New York,” Connie said.

Alex pouted. “Eh? What you mean?”

“Wannabe artists, singers, actors. Beautiful, sometimes talented, but they all have something in common.”

“They’ve got no money?” Alex said.

Connie laughed. “We’ve all had that in common,” she said.

Alex snorted. Connie remained calm.

“When I graduated, I had an internship with the virology department of the Red Cross,” she said. “My father was very proud. He imagined I’d eventually get my doctorate, cure the AIDS epidemic, and save the world.”

Alex was confused.

“Instead, I went to Thailand for four months and studied traditional floral oblations in the buddhist temples. Needless to say, he was furious.”

“AIDS? Oblations?” Alex said, rubbing her head. What the bloody hell was she going on about?

“It wasn’t easy. Neither of my parents were happy, so they cut me off with a quickness.”

Alex snorted again. “No more first class for you.”

“Nope. It was coach, buses, and third class on the train for me - when I could afford it. But I wanted to prove to them I had it in me. I swear, I survived on pot noodles and pride then.”

“Good ol’ pot noodles. Ever had em’ with cheese?”

“Sometimes I couldn’t afford cheese,” she said.

Alex looked at her. There were fine lines at the corners of her eyes. She saw a single thread of silver at her temple. She was no silly spoiled girl.

“But what about your da?” she said.

“What about him?” Connie said. “Like I said, he was angry. He thought I was throwing away my potential, and wasting my life. He didn’t want to be any part of it.”

“But what about a … what’s it bloody called ... a trust fund?”

Connie smiled. “That wasn’t really our situation,” she said. “I’m no trust fund baby. My ass was in the wind.”

“I’ll have another drink,” Alex said, reaching for the bottle.

“Wouldn’t you rather have a coffee?” Connie said, grabbing it. “Olivia will be up soon.”

Alex slumped in her chair, but she didn’t fight her. “I suppose. Make it black. No sugar.”

Connie made her coffee and set it in front of her. She slammed it, then hissed at its bitterness.

“What are you getting at?” Alex said. The caffeine hit her system fast.

“What do you really want for your life?” Connie asked. “What are your goals?”

Alex winced as she took another burning sip. “I dunno. Goals? Finish uni, I suppose. Liv will murder me otherwise.”

“That’s it? What happens after you finish school?”

“Work until I die? It’s a bit early to take inventory,” Alex said.

“How about dreams?”

“Ride a rainbow pegacorn to Glastonbury?” she said. Connie laughed with her whole body, like John. And, like John, it was beautiful to see.

Connie wiped her eyes. “That was brilliant. But … really. What are your dreams?”

“Are we on a date or something?” Alex said. “Are you gonna ask me what my favorite things are next?”

“As I just came from someone else’s bed, this date’s already off to a shitty start,” Connie said. “Go on. Tell me.”

That hurt, although she didn’t mean for it to do so. Alex rubbed at her chest.

“I want ... “ she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to teach. I want to do. I want to create, and be an artist.”

“That’s it?” Connie said. Alex rolled her eyes. “Then why aren’t you?”

“I am,” she said, looking down at the condensation rings on the table.

“It doesn’t work that way. In the art world, you are if you do, ie, work. Talent means nothing without work, and lots of it.”

Alex took another searing gulp of coffee.

“You’ve got to push yourself, seek new experience to enrich and inspire you. I once nearly shit myself to death in India,” Connie said.

Alex did a spit take, and nearly choked on her laughter. “Super inspiring. Ha!” Connie wiped her face and smiled.

“Laugh it up if you like. It’s only funny now, since I didn’t die in a ditch, covered in flower petals and poop.”

Alex wiped her mouth. “But how?”

“A friend of mine told me about a picturesque festival in the Kerala region called Onam. They have games, and parades, and a huge banquet-”

“Say no more,” Alex said, still smiling.

“What attracted me to it are the traditional and sometimes elaborate flowerpetal designs called Pookalam. I learned so much, and everyone was so kind and excited about my interest in their celebration.”

“And?” Alex said.

“And, of course, I joined them for their feast. I ate too much. Thing is, the doctor told me later it wasn’t even the food. It was some bad water I had at the hostel. It fucked me up well and proper, I’ll tell you,” she said as Alex burst forth a fresh peal of giggles. “I was in a clinic for a week and a half.”

“Did your da know?”

Connie shrugged. “Nah. The last thing I need to hear when I was at death’s door was I told you so,” she said. “They had a fancy private hospital close by, too. I just couldn’t afford it.”

“Were you scared?” Alex said.

“Yeah. But ... I dunno ... I was young and in love with my life. And I was surrounded by friends. It made recovering easy. But I learned a lesson - only bottled or boiled water. Always.”

Alex snorted. “Noted.”

Connie grabbed the bottle of dark rum and put a splash in her coffee.

“In love with your life,” Alex repeated. She liked the way it sounded. To be in love with what’s happening, taking in new experiences, creating…

“What was the tipping point for you?” she asked.

“How so?” Connie said, sipping her spiked coffee.

“When did all that work pay off?”

She sighed. “Ironically, despite all that travel, it happened at home. A photographer friend of mine was using some of my sculptures as a color study. It was more meant as practice for both of us, honestly. He accidently left a couple of shots in a roll he gave to a newspaper client. They called him, asking about it.”

“And?” Alex said.

“Turns out she was the daughter of a Texas Senator, who was plant crazy - a huge environmentalist in a sea of oil interests. She loved the photos, and insisted I do floral design for a DC fundraiser to further her cause. I confected a rainforest, complete with thick mist and an indoor river, in December. That was that.”

“Indoor fucking river?” Alex said, incredulous.

“Oh yeah. With fish and everything. It was a clusterfuck of crazy, but we did it, goddamnit. We had to have wranglers there from the National Zoo, since we also had animals. Not my idea - but she was dead set on it. You haven’t lived until you have a stare off with a mountain gorilla over the appetizer in your hand.”

“That’s fuckin’ bonkers,” Alex said, slapping her thigh. “I want to do that!”

“Then do it,” Connie said. “You’re too young to not be living the life you want to live. There’s no reason.”

Alex ran her fingers through her tangled blond hair thoughtfully. “But what about Livvie?”

“What about her?”

“I can’t leave her and Monty here while I go off on my fine adventures.”

“You can’t?” Connie said pointedly. “At least those kind of adventures are a step in the right direction.” She waved her hand in front of her face at her ciggie and liquor stink.

Connie was right. She wanted to hate her so fucking bad she could taste it, but she couldn’t. It irritated her. She made it sound so romantic. So easy. But all she had was her paints, some canvas, and a vague idea of the direction she wanted to go.

“But … I don’t know how. I wouldn’t know where to start, even. It’s been so long.”

“Art’s like sex. You never forget how. And everyone has their own taste.”

“Art’s like fucking,” Alex repeated. “I like that. I’m stealing it.”

“I thought you would,” Connie said, and winked. “And you do know exactly where to start.”

“No, I don’t,” Alex said.

Connie pulled something out of her pocket - a small card. She clutched it in her hand.

“I’m gonna give you something I didn’t have,” she said. “But I’m wondering whether you’re ready.”

She stared a Connie’s balled fist. “Ready how?”

“Although it’s fun and I wouldn’t choose any other life, the art world is no motherfucking game. It’s dog eat dog. Are you a boss bitch?”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in your hand?”

She opened her fist and looked at the card. “It’s a key. Not even a key … it’s a map to the key.”

“You’re talking in riddles, Rumpelstiltskin. Spit it out. I’ve got a rager of a headache.”

Connie slid the card in front of her. “Fine. It’s a name.” She picked it up and squinted at it. It was exactly as she said. A name, and a London telephone number.

“Who this?” she said.

They both jumped as John yanked open the kitchen door and peeked in.

“Is Olivia up yet-” he went silent when he saw Alex. She jumped up, nearly spilling her coffee. She stuffed the card in her pocket.

“John.” It came out breathless. He gave her an abashed, hurt look that made Connie’s hackles go up, but she remained silent.

He turned to Connie. “Breakfast is ready.” He disappeared. Alex ran out behind him. Connie rose and stared out the kitchen window in curiosity.

🌹🌹🌹

“Hey, mate, where you goin”? She said, chasing after him. He stopped after he crossed the hedge, and she bumped into his back. She had to control the urge to hug him. He turned to face her. He looked so amazing. There was a new warmth and glow exuding from him that made her queasy stomach go away. She didn’t know whether it was her budding feelings … or his.

She looked toward the kitchen window. Connie wasn’t there.

“Why’d you go off running last night?”

His jaw worked, and his normally gentle eyes were hard. He sighed, and walked into his kitchen. It smelled spicy, like egg and pepper. She sneaked a look at the pan. Toast popped up suddenly and made her jump.

“You don’t make me breakfast anymore,” she said.

“You have uni, and a family,” he said. He sat on the butcher block.

“Ye have Uni, and a family,” she mimicked, trying to make him laugh. But he was getting paler and paler with anger. She was a bit lightheaded with liquor and caffeine. She sat down at his small kitchen table.

“Hey, um, is this thing, you know … clean and that?” she said. He gave her an intense look.

She put her hands up. “Sorry. Just checking. So Connie’s wearing your threads now?”

He darted forward to turn the stove off before the eggs dried out.

“I got you those pants she’s wearing. You remember? We got ‘em on that trip to the seaside, but they were too long for me, so I gave them to you. That was fun, even though Olivia got a wicked sunburn,” she snorted with laughter. “I wonder whether those crabs still have the dirty words on their shells. What d’you reckon?”

John frowned, but his eyes shone with tears. He looked at Liv’s kitchen window. Where was Connie? He didn’t dare look at Alex, for fear of what he might say. His throat burned.

“Mam was asking after you, by the way. She sends her love and a backhand slap to your arse,” she said. Her mam had a bit of a crush on him. At first, she found it a bit embarrassing. Now, she understood. Who wouldn’t have a crush on him?

He jumped off the butcher’s block and started to wipe down the counters.

“Calm down, Holly Housewife. The place is spotless,” she said, walking to the sink. She turned on the cold water tap and put her whole head in the spray. The cold helped with the hangover. She squeezed the water out of her hair and gave him a pointed look. “Could I get a towel, bruv?”

He handed her a kitchen towel and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. She noticed the blood red beads on his wrist.

“Connie gifting expensive jewelry to you? How avant garde,” she said. He tucked his hands in his armpits and said nothing.

“Are we ever gonna talk about what the hell happened last night?” she said, fluffing her hair. “I’m fresh out of small talk.”

He remained quiet. His stillness was extremely unnerving.

“Jesus, man, say something!” she raised her voice with frustration.

“Saying something is precisely the thing I’m trying to avoid right now,” he said.

She dropped the towel. “Don’t do this. You have no idea how completely gutted I was when you just-”

“You were gutted?” he said, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“It wasn’t something that came from the blue, okay? Please don’t think that. It’s been on my mind for weeks. And the feeling? Months, maybe,” she shook her head.

“Months,” he said softly.

“This is all very new to me. Seeing a man this way. Seeing … you this way. Forgive me if I can’t express myself good enough.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned. “I …”

She touched his wrist. She despised the fact the he refused eye contact. Now, more than ever, she needed to look in his eyes. Anger made her muscles tight. How many times had he chased meaningful eye contact in the last year? And each time she had laughed it off. She wanted to slap herself on her own stupid twat mouth.

“I ran because I didn’t want to say something in anger that I would later regret,” he said.

“Anger? Why?”

He closed his eyes. “Really, Alex? I know you sometimes miss a social cue or ten, but...”

She squeezed his wrist. “Speak.”

“Do you really think I can just turn my heart on and off at your convenience like that? That I’d just jump at the opportunity to break Olivia’s heart, and ruin my relationship with Monty to play house with you? That we could just start dating now, even though I live right next door to them both, and pretend like it isn’t the most horrific thing anyone could ever do to a friend? Is that what you’ve been thinking for the last … months, according to you?”

“We were lovers before,” she said, looking down at her bare feet. Grass stuck to the damp between her toes.

He leaned in. “We were not lovers. Not ever. We are friends who made a huge mistake, and paid dearly for it. There’s a difference,” he whispered.

“So Jo was a mistake?” Alex said. Her voice wavered with emotion.

“No, she a surprise. But, at the same time,“ he ruffled his hair nervously with both hands, ”it was a stupid, selfish, callous thing.”

“It didn’t feel like friendship. The way you touched me...” Her face was red, but she had to get it out. “It was something new. And beautiful.”

“I was really drunk,” he said, his voice high with emotion.

“So was I,” she said. “But I remember everything. Every caress. I’ve never been touched like that before.”

Sweat beaded his brow. He was getting queasy again. Resentment made him want to yell, but he controlled himself.

“Of course not. I’m not a woman.”

“Do you think I’m a complete asshole?” Alex snapped. “Duh. That’s not it.”

He bit his lower lip. Why did this feel like déjà vu? He was getting a headache.

“It was different, but not in the obvious sense. It was- you were gentle. It made my heart ache. I never thought-”

“It was one night,” he said tensely. He didn’t feel comfortable having this conversation with Connie just 50 feet away, waiting on the breakfast he promised her. He wanted her, and he wanted this conversation to be over already. His lower lip trembled.

“It was enough,” Alex said. “I thought sex with a bloke would be all sweaty and smelly and bristly and weird, but it wasn’t. Well, a bit bristly since you had the beard, but not all the other stuff. You're a bloody fantastic kisser. Gorgeous, actually. You big dork.”

“Are you done?” John said after a moment. His voice cracked.

She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But I thought once I did, I could give you some time to think and we could make a decision.”

“Just like that. ‘Make a decision’. Ride off into the sunset, perhaps?”

“On a rainbow pegacorn,” she said softly. He gave her a perplexed look.

“Is this all a game to you?” he said.

“No,” she said. “I’m dead serious.”

“And you’ve said your piece?” he said.

“Yeah.”

He sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his arms. The soft shh shh of palm against skin made her wistful. She wanted to touch.

“Al,” he shook his head. “I cherish my friendship with you and Olivia-”

“Can you stop mentioning her, for fuck’s sake? This ain’t about her.”

His eyebrow rose. “But it effects her intimately, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t care so much before, did you?”

“Things change,” he said. She hated the look on his face. And his rigid body language. The corners of his eyes were seamed with lines. Why did everyone around her look so much older all of a sudden?

“What’s changed from last week to this week? Only one thing. Why don’t you just sack up and say it. It’s Connie.”

“It’s not about her,” he said again.

“I’ll be fucked if it’s not. But she’s leaving in less than 24 hours. Then things can get back to normal.”

“To getting drunk with your mam, barely skating by at uni, and chicken on Sunday, like you said? D’you actually think things could get back to the way they were after this?”

“I was hoping they’d be better for both of us,” Alex said.

“For both of us,” he said, rubbing his face. He needed a shave. “But fuck the rest of humanity.”

She shrugged. “No one else matters.”

He shook his head. “This … it’s not right.”

“I’m sorry that I kept it from you. But again, I didn’t know what was going on in my head, and I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

“Monty’s birthday is a month and a half off and now’s the time to make your big confession?”

“Better now than later. The timeline got fucked up,” she said. He knew she spoke about Connie. And she was right. It gave him the strength to speak.

“I don’t need time to think, Alex.”

“And?” she said, looking at him.

“We are friends.Things got confusing for a bit, but I’m not confused about how I feel about you now.”

She waited for him to finish his thought. Her future hung in the balance. Her eyes burned, but she was resolved not to cry like a spoiled quim, although she ached to do it. This situation was already fucked enough.

“I’ll always be there for you, and for Olivia, and Monty. You’re like family to me.”

“Family,” she said. Two tears chased their way down her right cheek. “Like, I’m a sister to you?”

“No. But we won’t be lovers. We can’t.”

“Can’t? Why, if it’s what we both want?”

“Wanted, once. But not anymore.”

“So, if Connie never-”

“It would’ve been this way even if I’d never met her,” he said. And he actually believed himself. It was true.

“Horseshit!” Alex said.

“I would never lie to you,” he said, looking at his hands. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

“Humping a baby into me might’ve done it, yeah,” she said, standing up.

“I will always love Jo,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t bring her up.”

“I’ll bring her up all I fucking want,” she said. “I still have the stretch marks, and the empty space in my heart that feels like it’s never gonna go away.” She burst into tears. “Shit!” She pounded his fist on his counter. He got up and tried to hug her. She slapped his face hard. “Fuck off.”

He was taken aback by her violence, but he persisted. She slumped against him almost immediately. She punched his chest softly, then let him put his arms around her. Again, he pressed his lips in the damp hair at the top of her head. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sniffled in his chest.

“What am I gonna do, John?” she said.

“You’ll have to figure that out on your own. But I promise I will not say anything. To anyone. If and when you want to share, you can.”

“How noble of you,” she said.

He squeezed once more and let go. “I think you need to go home and get some rest.”

“Do I tell Connie to come back now?” she said sarcastically.

“Please. Breakfast is getting cold.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “I’ll get on it.” It took everything to keep from crumpling into sobs again. But she had hope that just as soon as Connie was gone, things might shift in her favor.

“Until later.”

🌹🌹🌹

She ran across the yard and slammed into the kitchen, where Olivia was eating breakfast.

“Morning,” she said. Her face was impassive, and still blotchy with sleep.

“Morning,” Alex said, suddenly awkward. “I need a bath. Desperately.”

“You do,” she said as she stirred Monty’s breakfast. Monty squealed and reached out for her. Seeing the little one made her want to burst into fresh tears. She loved him so much it hurt. What the everloving fuck was she doing? Her stomach lurched.

She groaned and made herself another cup of coffee - she was plenty exhausted, but she had class in two hours. There was no time for sleep.

The hairs on her arms stood on end. She couldn’t begin deconstructing the last 12 hours to Olivia. She brushed by her side as she grabbed Monty’s special spoon.

“Where were you?” she said. She sounded exhausted.

“Where’s Connie?” Alex was surprised she didn’t fill Olivia in on their conversation.

“I don’t know. She borrowed the keys to my car and left about 5 minutes ago. Said she needed some air-”

Alex ran outside, and the car was gone from the driveway.

“Fuck!” She needed the car to get to class. If she had to take the bus, she’d lose her shit. A woman walking by with her dog gave her a dirty look. Alex stuck out her tongue.

She ran to John’s kitchen window and rapped on it.

“Yeah?” he said.

“She’s gone, mate. Took Olivia’s car and went off to get some air,” she said, doing air quotes.

“Fuck!” he said. Could she have heard their conversation? He didn’t see her anywhere when he looked out the window earlier. “Fuck,” he said again, but it was not an exclamation. The last hour had exhausted him beyond those. He grabbed his phone and his keys and bolted out the door.

Next Chapter

#that woman over there #you me and him #David Tennant #fan fiction #alex's confession #she lights matches just to swallow the flame

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