I can and I will. Watch Me.

the grass was soft and cool beneath the thick wool blanket, a lush carpet under the moon drenched sky. you were nestled against your husband’s side, his arm a solid, warm band around your shoulders, his sheer bulk a comforting wall against the night’s gentle chill. before you, the river flowed, a ribbon of liquid silver catching the light of the stars and the huge, pale moon.

it was a perfect moment on your honeymoon, a world away from the duties and eyes of the people

you tilted your head back to look at him. even sitting, duncan was a mountain. the hand resting on your shoulder was so large it could have spanned your entire back. he was watching the water, a soft, contented look on his face, but he felt your gaze and turned his head, his blue eyes, the color of a summer sky, crinkling at the corners with a gentle smile.

"what is it, my love?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that you felt more in your own chest than you heard with your ears.

"nothing," you whispered, pressing a kiss to the fabric covering his shoulder. "just…simply contented."

he ducked his head, his nose nudging against your hair, inhaling deeply. "i want you to be happy all the days of your life m’lady." he paused, his lips brushing against your temple.

you shifted, turning more fully into him, your hand resting on the hard plane of his stomach. "i would like to do something now dunk…"

"and what is it you want to do?"

you took a shaky breath, "you," you answered simply. "all of you. to make love now like husbands and wives do."

his gaze softened,"are you certain?" he asked, his thumb stroking your arm. "i do not wish to…frighten you. i am not a small man, in any regard."

the unspoken warning hung between you. you had been raised in a keep with many sisters and maids…you knew the basics of what happened between a husband and wife, but you also knew duncan was built on a scale other men could only dream of. a flicker of apprehension warred with a desperate, consuming need for him.

"i'm certain," you said, your voice firm. "i trust you, dunk."

that was all it took. he claimed your mouth. the kiss was a gentle and hungry claiming. his other hand came up to tangle in your hair, holding you steady as he devoured you. when you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily.

he shifted, moving back on the blanket, pulling you with him until you were seated on top, straddling his huge thighs. the world narrowed to the feel of him beneath you, the hard muscle, the steady thrum of his heart. his hands were at the laces of your gown, his long fingers surprisingly deft as they worked the knots. soon, your dress was lifted over your head and became bunched fabric beside the blanket, and the cool night air kissed your bare skin.

duncan’s hands roamed your body, learning every curve, every dip. they were huge, his palms rough, but his touch was reverent. he mapped your skin as if you were a precious territory he had just conquered.

"you are the most perfect thing i’ve ever seen- ehm, touched-" he breathes, his large hands palming and squeezing gently at your breasts.

you were lost in a haze of sensation, your own then hands fumbling with getting him out of his breeches. when you finally freed him, you gasped.

he was right to warn you. he was massive. his fat cock, hard and heavy in your grasp, was a thing of impossible size and girth, the veins prominent, the head a red-ish almost purple in this light, and flushed dark leaking pre-cum. a mix of fear and exhilaration shot through you.

"dunk," you whisper, your eyes wide as you stroked him experimentally. he hissed, his hips bucking slightly.

"easy, my girl," he gritted out, his hands on your waist, holding you still. "i need…i need to be inside you. but we'll do it slow. i’ve never done anything like this but i'll help you."

he guided you, and held his heavy shaft steady, the blunt head nudging against your slick entrance. he looked up at you, his eyes dark with concern and lust. "breathe," he commanded softly. "bit of a stretch now…just sink down. a little at a time. i have you."

you obeyed, lowering yourself onto him. the initial stretch was a shock, a burning, intense pressure that stole your breath. it was almost too much, like shoving a pole inside you he was so big, so thick. small cry escaped your lips.

"ahh! ngh- dunk!"

"shh, i know, i know," he soothed, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "don't fight it. let me." he began to help you sink down further letting your cunt flutter, try to, around his shaft.

once you’ve adjusted enough, he begins to rock you gently, a subtle roll of his own powerful hips that worked him deeper into you. he was doing most of the work, lifting and lowering you, controlling the pace, letting your body adjust to his overwhelming size.

the pain began to fade, you felt the thin barrier of your innocence give way, a sharp sting that made you flinch, but duncan’s steadiness and gentleness grounded you.

"there now," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "good girl."

finally, you were fully seated, your hips flush with his. you felt stretched, claimed, utterly full of him. you stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing together, your bodies joined as one. you could feel his thundering heartbeat against your back where you leaned forward.

"move for me, whenever yer ready-" he urged, his voice a low growl.

you began to move, an experimental rock of your hips. it was awkward at first, but his hands guided you, his grip firm and sure. soon you found a rhythm, lifting and dropping yourself onto his chubby cock. each downward stroke sending a jolt of pure pleasure through you. the sight of him below you, his eyes glazed over with lust and love, was the most intoxicating thing you had ever seen. his jaw clenched in concentration as you rode him, your tits bouncing in his face.

but he wanted more. with a sudden, fluid motion he wrapped his arms around you and rolled you onto your back without ever breaking the connection. he moved with a startling grace, a controlled strength that countered his size. one moment you were on top, and the next, you were on your back on the soft blanket, his massive frame blanketing yours. the moonlight illuminated your face in a soft glow as he looked down at you now, his arms braced on either side of your head, caging you in. he was so big, so broad, that he blotted out the stars. for a moment, he just looked at you, his chest heaving.

"i was afraid i would crush you," he admitted, his voice a low, rough whisper. "like this…i can see you. i can kiss you."

and then he did. he lowered his head, his mouth finding yours in a deep, possessive kiss that was worlds different from the one before. this was slower, deeper, a kiss of a husband to his wife, of a man claiming his heart and soul. his hips began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that was nothing short of divine.

being taken like this was different. he was in complete control, setting a pace that was both powerful and patient. each long, deep stroke made you whine and moan int the back of your hand, the sheer size of him was no longer a source of pain but of insane pleasure.

you felt every thick inch of him, the head of his cock dragging against your inner walls in a way that made your toes curl.

"my wife," he groaned against your lips, the words a sacred vow. "you are my wife."

"my husband," you gasped back, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, your nails digging into the muscle of his back. "m’only yours, dunk."

the sound of his name on your lips seemed to undo him. his rhythm grew more urgent, his thrusts deeper, harder. the grass, the river, the moon, it all faded away until there was nothing but him.

"dunk please don’t stop, please-!" you whine into his mouth, as the two of you try to kiss, you brace your other hand to hold at his forearm. trying to grind yourself down onto his cock and hand where his thumb is just catching your clit rubbing at it with such pressure.

"your hands are so big! m’going to c- i might scream! kiss me, kiss me-"

a cry tore from your throat as waves of pleasure crashed over you, but just before you could really wake the whole of westeros he captures your lips in a kiss that is intense and all consuming. your body arched against his, your inner walls pulsing around his massive cock.

dunk followed you over the edge with a guttural roar, his own release flooding you, a deep, powerful pulse that you felt in the very depths of your soul. "i love you, i love you-" he mumbled over and over against your lips.

he collapsed onto you, not with his full weight, but enough to press you into the blanket, his face buried in the crook of your neck. you were both slick with sweat, breathing heavily, your hearts beating a frantic, synchronized rhythm against each other's chests.

for a long time, you lay there in silence, just listening to the sound of the river and the soft sighs of the wind. he shifted, rolling to his side but keeping you tucked against him, one of your legs thrown over his, his arm still banded around your waist.

he kissed your forehead, your temple, the tip of your nose.

"are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft and laced with a concern that made your heart ache.

you hummed contentedly, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "i'm more than alright, husband. i'm fully yours."

he tilted your chin up, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight. "i really do love you."

Valarr catches sight of you, feet dragging, your fingers twisting a small ring around and around—a silver band set with rubies, a nervous habit to drown out the tolling bells. He drops back a step, and his hand finds yours in the slow-moving procession, fingers curling around your own. You look at him—then up at your father—eyes shining with tears under the thin dark veil of a mourning dress.

And then the slim silver and ruby ring slips from your finger and skitters toward the edge of the crowd, near the holey shoes of a Flea Bottom boy. The boy stoops down and picks it up—he’s never held something worth so much in all his short years. Part of him thinks he might be able to make a run for it, that it’s enough to book passage to the Free Cities or have supper for a year without begging or thieving, but the thought fades, and he steps forward. 

“Get back, boy!” One of the men of the City Watch grits out, brandishing his iron cudgel as a warning. But the boy doesn’t move. 

Dirt streaks his face, and his clothes hang loose and worn. He looks younger than your brother, but bigger, much bigger, when he lumbers closer, hesitant. “Pri– Princess,” the Flea Bottom boy mutters, holding out his open hand—broad palm, scraped knuckles—refusing to meet the gaze of royalty. But sitting in his palm is the ring. 

Baelor’s hand settles on your back, a quiet urging. You step to the boy and reach for the ring, fingers brushing his. “Thank you,” you say, your voice just loud enough for him to hear over the hush of the crowd and the sept bells. His head lifts then, just a little, and for a heartbeat you’re struck by his eyes. Blue eyes. The likes of which you’ll never forget. 

LITTLE PRINCE AEGON closes the door behind him, tears streaking his face as he slips from Maekar’s chamber, leaving his brothers still in heated counsel with their father. Aerion is wroth—of course he is—and Daeron’s piss-poor accusations do not bode well for Egg’s new friend. A fine fellow, from the way the little prince spoke of him. Maybe it’s foolish, careless even, but you decide to see just how true Egg’s words about this Hedge Knight are. 

Ser Duncan the Tall looks up from the wet floor at the sound of iron hinges creaking, and his broad shoulders stiffen at the appearance of another royal. Will the parade never end? He lowers his head—he’s already struck one prince today, and he has no wish to insult another of royal blood. “Princess.” It’s not so much a greeting as it is an acknowledgment.  

You set one of the stools aright and gather your skirts close in hand to keep them out of the muck as you sit. Fingers instinctively finding the familiar comfort of your silver-and-ruby ring, turning it slowly around and around. 

“You’ll hear no thanks from my uncle or my father,” you begin, the words measured but sincere, “but I thank you for keeping Egg from harm.” The boy means a great deal to you. He’s earnest and too gentle for the cruelties of the world. Fear had settled over you like a stormcloud when Daeron finally found the courage to show his face after three days lost to drink in some tavern, spinning tales that a brutish knight had stolen away his little brother. 

Your gaze lifts to Ser Duncan then, studying him in the quiet that follows. And while he certainly is large, brute does not seem the right word for him. “And I am sorry,” you add, softer, the ring still turning beneath your thumb and forefinger, “that this misfortune has befallen you.”

Dunk wishes he could regret his actions, but with Tanselle’s agonizing scream still echoing in his ears, he thinks he might’ve broken Aerion’s face had it not been for the royal guards stopping him. “Was only defending the innocent,” he says. “As any knight should.” 

A faint breath leaves you—half a laugh and half something sorrowful. If only all knights and princes thought the same. “It is a rare thing for a knight to remember his vows these days.” Your eyes flick to the darkening bruise along his strong jaw. He’s at least three heads taller than Aerion and several stones heavier. The true shame is that he only loosened a tooth and did not knock it clean out. “Though I do wish you’d gotten in a few more blows,” you admit, looking down at the creases in your palm, almost ashamed to admit it. 

The corner of Dunk’s mouth twitches at that. He still won’t look at you, but he steals a longer glimpse, long enough to see the same dread and hatred in your expression that Egg had after the day’s joust. Long enough to recall you were there too in that tent. “I don’t understand.” Dunk shakes his head, brow knitting together. “Is Aerion not your betrothed?” Nigh all of Westeros knew of the recent engagement between Baelor’s daughter and Maekar’s son—an odd match for politics and prosperity, but not a queer one among the Targaryens. 

“Unfortunately.” You need not say anything more on the matter. Dunk understands. “If it eases your mind and heart, I sent Lord Ashford’s maester to tend to the girl’s hand,” you tell him. 

He nods, solemn. It does soothe his heart to know Tanselle’s injuries would be looked after in a proper fashion. “A decent thing to do,” Dunk replies. It was the right thing to do, you think. Silence creeps in, and having thought of nothing more to say, you move to leave, knowing your father will wish to speak with him before he must face Aerion. 

A flash of silver and red—a ring now too small for any finger but a pinky—catches his eye. Dunk rises. “Your Grace!” He calls, moving toward you with measured steps so as not to startle. “We...we’ve met before,” he stumbles over the words. “Do you remember?” There’s hope in his voice, even if it's a fool’s hope. A princess would hardly have a cause to remember a poor boy from Flea Bottom and a chance meeting in the streets years ago. “As children.”

After another step, the firelight of a nearby sconce shines fully upon his face, and your throat tightens. You know those blue eyes. In all the time that’s passed, you’ve yet to see a pair of eyes bluer, clearer, kinder than his. Baelor remembered Ser Arlan of Pennytree. And you—you remember him, just a boy from Flea Bottom. “You returned my ring,” you muse, remembering the day well. 

“Daeron gave it to me on my fifth nameday,” you add, fondness and grief tangled in your voice—always your favorite cousin, no matter how many casks of wine he tries to drown himself in. Slipping the silver band free, you turn it over in hand, the dim light paints the rubies like drops of wet blood, an ill omen, you think. You’ve rarely gone without it, finding comfort in such a little thing. 

“Wearing it has always brought me good fortune.” You step toward Dunk then and offer it to him—a courtly favour of sorts. He doesn’t move. So you take his hand—large and calloused—and place the small ring into his palm. “I pray it does the same for you, Ser Duncan.”

He shakes his head. “Your Grace, I can’t...” 

“You can,” you interrupt, slipping your hand under his and forcing his fingers to close around the ring—the very same one he thought about making off with as a boy. It is a gift, if nothing else. A small fortune for a hedge knight should he survive what comes next. He finally does not shy from your gaze, and finds a mix of emotions he can’t quite make out. 

Small footsteps patter down the hall—Egg. “Dunk.” His brows knit together, surprised to hear you speak his true and given name. “Be gentle with him,” you murmur, hand falling away from his as you turn toward the door. “He’s only a boy.” 

“HELP HIM, PLEASE!” Egg’s voice cracks, and his eyes—deep and dark and purple—shine bright with panic and tears. His hands are clenched tight at his sides, knuckles almost white. You’ve always listened, always helped. To Egg, you’re the daughter of the crowned prince, the realm’s darling, and you should be able to thwart his brother’s distorted view of justice before it’s carried out.  

But you feel just as helpless as he. “What can I do, Egg?” you answer, crouching so you are level with him. “I am no knight nor prince.” Even if you were more than a princess, it would not be likely to help Ser Duncan. 

“But Baelor–” Egg starts. You cut him off, gently, “–is heir to the Iron Throne and Hand of the King.” Your fingers graze his sleeve. “He cannot risk himself so lightly.”

The boy shakes his head, his jaw set in a stubborn way that reminds you of his father. “Tell Aerion to stop, then,” Egg demands. An impossible task. He knows it is. Mayhap any other husband-to-be would consider his betrothed’s gentle requests, a marriage favor even, but Aerion is neither kind nor noble. 

As if summoned by thought alone, Aerion Brightflame enters the room. Your heart drops seeing him. There is no warmth in his gaze as it drifts between you and his younger brother—no affection, no fondness. Only the cold, sharp look that always sets you on edge. “Run along, Egg.” Aerion’s command is lazy, almost bored.

“No.” Aegon answers, lifting his chin just a little. “I won’t,” he says, his voice wavering.

“I said run along,” Aerion repeats, sharper this time. “Go pray for your fool knight, if it please you. He’ll need all the gods he can muster.”

You nod to Egg, almost imperceptibly. “Go find Daeron,” you tell the boy. Egg swallows hard, then gives Aerion one last look of pure, burning hatred before he turns from the room. 

In Egg’s wake, there’s an uneasy silence. Neither Lord Tyrell nor Lord Ashford thinks to say anything from their seats at the long table, both waiting for Baelor and Maekar to join and decide what is to be done. 

Aerion’s attention turns fully to you, and his gaze hardens, the amusement he finds from tormenting his brother draining away. He steps closer, looking down his nose at you. “You would do well to remember your place, cousin.” His voice is a hiss, having heard you and Egg talking and knowing you’d gone to see the guilty hedge knight.

It feels like he has struck you without raising a hand. He’s forgotten I, too, am a dragon. “My place,” you say with a false smile, back straightening to make yourself taller, “is wherever I choose to stand.”

“Your place,” Aerion corrects coolly, “is at my side.” His hand lifts, as though to cup your cheek—claiming, possessive. You flinch before his fingers can brush flesh. The movement is small, but he notices it. Anger and wounded pride flash across Aerion’s face, a dangerous combination. Approaching footsteps stills his hand in the air between you, and he lets it fall back to his side when he sees his father and uncle coming to join the council. Your gaze flits from his dark eyes to your father, but Aerion lingers just long enough to give you an unreadable look before he takes his seat at the end of the table. 

Ser Duncan the Tall requested a trial by combat, as all ordained knights have the right to, but he left the solar needing six more knights to defend his cause by the morning—a Trial of Seven, Aerion demanded. Lord Tyrell and Ashford disperse thereafter. Baelor expects you to follow, as the others do. But you remain seated, hands folded in your lap, staring at nothing. Egg is right. You go to twist the ring on your pinky. It’s gone. Of course, it’s gone, you remind yourself.

Your father watches you with his mismatched eyes. Had you looked up then, you might have seen something akin to shame flicker across the noble face of Baelor Breakspear. 

“Is there nothing else you can do, father?” you ask at last. The question surprises him. It is not often you press him so. “He did only what any knight should do,” you continue. “Protect the weak and innocent. The puppeteer. Egg.” Me, but you do not say as much. Nor do you show him the scrapes on your palms, the bruises hidden beneath your sleeves, the ache in your knees from where Aerion’s fury had thrown you aside. A Fossoway squire had been the one to help you from the ground. You feel your throat tighten. “I...I’m tired of the good and decent folk of the realm being trodden on by people like Aerion.” 

Baelor’s gaze softens—always a gentle heart. “Have I not been a good daughter?” The words come before you can stop them. “Have I not done your bidding?” You squeeze your eyes shut. Have I not agreed to marry my monstrous cousin—for the good of the realm?

He comes to you then and reaches for you, taking your face into his hands. “You have,” he says quietly, proudly. “You have been dutiful. More than many in your place would be.” No one in the Seven Kingdoms could say Baelor Targaryen did not love and take pride in his children. 

And then he takes the empty chair beside you and he speaks as a prince. “Aerion is…as he is,” Baelor says, carefully. “But he is still the blood of the dragon. And the blood of our house must not sit idle where honor is concerned.” 

You know he speaks true in some fashion, especially with the recent history of rebellions, but without dragons, House Targaryen cannot rule through fear and absolute power alone. The smallfolk’s love is where true power lies, and they have little love for the likes of Aerion, especially after he dishonored himself in the tourney by killing Humfrey Hardyng’s mount. “What is it you are asking of me?” Your father finally inquires. 

To stop this madness. To choose what is right over what is easy. To save him. “I ask and want for nothing,” you whisper, though your lips tremble as you say it. 

The morning comes, but you have not slept. No one has, by the looks of it. Walking to the tourney grounds is a solemn affair. The joy has been sapped from Ashford Meadow in just a few hours. Poor young Gwin Ashford, instead of being crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty, must preside over a bloody and needless trial. Aegon runs past you, small and swift, his face set with fierce determination. He will squire for Ser Duncan. 

Turning from the stands, you pace the pavilions, looking for your brother and father. The wind stirs the flaps of Valarr’s pavilion. You pause. A shadow moves within, clad in your brother’s armor. Has Valarr taken up Ser Duncan’s cause? Surely, not. He hadn’t even sat in the council the prior evening. “Valarr?” You call. Your brother does not answer. 

The armor does not sit as it should. The dark steel breastplate pulls a touch too tight across the back; the studded leather tassels fall shorter than you remember. And his hair, where your brother’s would show a single bright streak of silver, is salted with grey. Your breath catches. 

Father. The man who held your hand when you were little. Who taught you right from wrong. Who kissed your brow and told you stories of brave knights and just kings. Your eyes burn, and suddenly, you feel small again. 

“Papa?” Baelor turns. It’s been years since you last called him that. The Prince of Dragonstone dismisses the young Reach lords helping him fasten the last of the straps with a quiet nod. He had not thought to bring his own armor, so he wears his son’s. It fits him well enough. “Why?” It’s a meek, breathless question. 

“Ser Duncan upheld his vows, as every true knight should.” There is no doubt, no hesitation. The soul of chivalry. Baelor adjusts his gloves. “And, if by nothing else, I make my daughter proud, then this is worth it.” You don’t realize you’re crying until his hand comes up to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his thumb brushing them away as he has done a hundred times before. He smiles at you—fond and unafraid. “Go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your brow. “Go with Aegon, and I will do my best to protect your hedge knight.” 

Your hedge knight. You want to protest the phrasing, but your father has already turned away. There is nothing to lose, fighting against men sworn to do him no harm, but everything to gain. Outside the pavilion, a groom brings his horse. Baelor Targaryen mounts his dark stallion, gathering the reins in his hands, and glances back toward you, just once, before setting Valarr’s helm on his head. Then he snaps the reins as the doors to the list field groan and open. 

VALARR BECKONS YOU away—he’s distraught, angry, and cannot understand why you do not share the same sentiments toward the man he sees as responsible for your father’s death. A Prince of the Realm for a hedge knight. It hardly seems a fair trade. And even now, you cannot say if the man Baelor Targaryen gave his life for will live. 

So much blood. You look down at your hands and can still see the mix of it and mud there from the days prior, and hear the maesters yelling for boiled wine and forceps. No place for a princess, they told you, letting a common armorer escort you from the tent in a harrowed daze. 

Dunk tries to move—groans—and that is when he realizes he is not on the ground, nor in a cell, nor on the hard-packed earth of the list field. He is in a bed. A real bed. One with a feather mattress, linen sheets, and soft blankets. And everything hurts. 

“Easy,” a soft voice says. He turns his head and sees you sitting beside him with his good eye, and feels the gentle weight and warmth of your hand on his bicep. For a moment, Dunk can only stare, trying to make sense of it. A Targaryen princess—daughter of Baelor Breakspear—wearing dark mourning silks, sitting at his bedside. Eyes still red-rimmed and shadowed with grief. It should have been me. The guilt gnaws at him; it will for the rest of his days.  

“Princess,” he rasps. There’s a shred of panic in his voice and a new tightness in his chest. Dunk dips his head down, struggling to keep your gaze. 

You rise, reaching for a cup on the table nearest the bed. “Here”—one hand slips behind Dunk’s broad shoulders to help him sit, careful of the bandages that wrap his chest and the bruises that turn his body into a canvas of black and blue— “slowly,” you tell him, bringing the water to his lips. He drinks, then coughs, and drinks again.

When he can speak, the first thing he says is: “Your father, Pri-prince Baelor.” Memory comes rushing back in a cacophony of blood and steel—his ears ringing, the crash of lance on shield, the terrible moment when Baelor’s helm was struck…Aerion had already yielded. But Maekar hadn’t heard, nor had Baelor. Dunk flinches as if the mace strikes his own head. 

“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. The same words he repeated over and over as he held the prince in his arms. Tears well up in his clear, blue eye, clouded with pain. How could he ever face you—or Valarr—after what happened? It’s not right for a great prince to die so a hedge knight might live. “I never meant–” His cracked lips tremble. “I never wanted–”

“Hush.” Your voice is gentle, firm, as though Baelor himself speaks through you. Dunk looks at you again and sees the weight of such loss written plainly on your face—that lovely face. And still, you’re not angry...only sad. “My father made his choice,” you tell him, quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed, hand loosely curled around one of his. It’s heavily bandaged—from Aerion’s dagger—and there are blood splotches on the pale wrap. “He chose to stand with Ser Duncan the Tall.” 

“He…he told me he needed good men.” The Realm needs good men. “Let me serve you, Your Grace,” Dunk says, nigh begging—seeking atonement for ripping Baelor Breakspear from this world too soon. Then his voice softens, and he reaches out, boldly taking your hand into both of his. “I can be your man,” he chokes. Your man. 

You cradle Dunk’s bruised cheek with your free hand, knowing your father would have taken him on in the service of House Targaryen without hesitation. A true knight and a good man. The House of the Dragon could use more of those. 

“If that is so” —the corners of your lips quirk upward, a sad, fleeting smile— “then I command you to rest, ser.” Rising from the bed, you bend, only just, and place a chaste kiss on Ser Duncan the Tall’s forehead. He almost reaches for you, but thinks better of it. “Rest while I can still keep Egg from under your feet.”

THE MAESTER UNBINDS the bandage around Dunk’s hand as you enter the pavilion. It is a nasty wound—already debrided to clean the muck out—but still angry and raw, the flesh tender and swollen. Dunk can scarcely bend his fingers, let alone grasp a sword or lance. 

You sit opposite Maester Mykal, and Dunk watches you the whole while, his brow furrowed—you’re a puzzle he cannot seem to set to rights. A princess who comes to sit with a lowly hedge knight. A noble lady who does not shy away from blood. A daughter who shows kindness to the man who all but killed her father. 

“Hold his hand, if you please, Princess,” Mykal says. You take Dunk’s hand—warm and rough with callus and old scars—in both of yours without complaint. The maester spreads a fresh poultice over the wound. His jaw clenches, but he makes no sound. And when Maester Mykal finishes and ties off the bandage with a neat little knot, he pats Dunk’s wrist. “Try not to be a fool with it, ser. It will mend if you let it.” His eyes flick between the two of you before he gathers his things. He’ll return on the morrow at your bidding. “I’ll leave you to your rest,” he tells Dunk. “Princess.” Mykal inclines his head and slips from the pavilion, leaving you still loosely holding Dunk’s hand. 

“Why…?” Dunk begins, then stops, swallowing hard, thinking over his words so as not to offend. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be–” his voice trails, rough with uncertainty “–with your kin?” He asks, not unkindly, just confused. You had lost a father. So had Valarr and Matarys. And Maekar had lost his brother. Dunk cannot understand why you would choose to be here with him over family. 

“I have been,” you reply. All the night and all the morning, until it was suffocating to remain. “But grief does not keep to one place.” Your eyes lift to meet his. He can almost open his other eye now, though it is still swollen and painted with bruises—but it is his good eye, the clear blue one, that finds yours. “And neither does duty.” Your thumb brushes mindlessly over his knuckles, careful of the bandage.

“My father once told me,” you continue, finally sitting in your bedside chair, “the measure of a ruler is not how they treat the highborn, but how they tend to the low, the wounded, and the forgotten.” A faint, sad smile touches your lips, there and gone again in a blink. “And you are wounded, Ser Duncan.”

But he is not the only one wounded after the trial: the Kingsguard, Humfrey Hardyng, Daeron, and even Aerion. “Is Prince Aerion...” He hadn’t wanted to kill the prince...not really. But he’s not heard anyone really mention what became of him after the trial. Dunk watches your expression falter and your hand fall away from his, and then he regrets having said anything at all. You daft fool. He curses himself. 

You’d gone to Aerion after the funeral pyre had turned to ash—he was family, after all. He lay abed in one of Lord Ashford’s guest rooms. A livid bruise darkened one side of his face, the other gnarled by deep cuts, and his lip split where Dunk’s fist had found it. Aerion had no kind words to say, but there had been a flicker of something when you told him you wanted to see if he survived the night.

“Bruised,” you say, after a moment. “And stitched up.” In some ways, he fared better than Duncan. “My uncle is sending him to Lys.” Time in the Free Cities may yet do him some good. The way Maekar said it in the days after the funeral, it all but absolved your betrothal to his son and loosened the noose of duty around your neck. But you’ve not seen Aerion since Maekar decided on his son’s exile.

Dunk shifts on the bed, wincing as his ribs protest, and feels a streak of boldness overcome him. He reaches to take your hand again, his thumb moves against your fingers, as though testing whether you will pull away. You don’t. Instead, your fingers tighten around his, just slightly.

You find yourself going to sit with Dunk nigh every day. Most of the time, Egg comes too, but today he’s off to pack his things to return to Summerhall. Egg hopes he will not have to go and that he will be able to squire for Ser Duncan the Tall. When you enter the pavilion, Maester Mykal is leaving, having replaced the dressings around his torso, and notes Dunk’s wounds are healing well, if a little slow, and he suggests a bit of fresh air might do the hedge knight some good. 

Dunk pushes himself off the bed, steadying himself with a crutch, but once he’s upright, you sidle closer to him, offering yourself as a second crutch. “Never thought I’d have a dragon steadying me on my feet,” he says—you wear the colors of your house today, it’s hard for him not to see you as such. 

A small smile touches your lips when you look up at him. “We’re not all fire and fury.”

“No,” he agrees, voice low. “Some of you are kinder than you ought to be.” Dunk takes another step and winces when his weight settles wrong, even with the crutch under one arm and you under the other. It’s too much. Aerion’s sword bit deep.  

The crutch slips, clattering to the floor, and his balance with it. All of him—nigh twenty stone of him—presses down on you. Dunk catches himself against the edge of the bed, enough to keep from crushing you entirely, but not enough to spare you the fall. You go down with him, letting out a small, startled grunt as the two of you land in an awkward tangle of limbs. 

“Princess,” he chokes, scrambling at once, half-dragging you across his lap in his haste to set you upright, more afraid for you than any wound of his own. “M’sorry.” Dunk holds onto your arms. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Your hands brace against his chest, fingers splaying over the coarse fabric of his stained tunic, and beneath it, you feel the steady, stubborn thrum of his heart. His breath catches beneath you, and you both realize then how close you are. “No harm done,” you assure him, not looking away from those big, bright, blue eyes of his. 

“Shouldn’t be the one falling for me, Princess,” Dunk says quietly, a poor attempt at humor. But his voice is a little breathless from the closeness and the ache of the returning pain in his ribs. A faint huff of laughter escapes you, and even though it fades quickly, the warmth lingers in your flushed cheeks. His gaze flicks to your mouth, then up again. 

“Princess…” he begins, voice low and uncertain, and then even softer is your name. No titles or formality, just a whisper. You like her, Egg told him the night prior; he could see it easily enough with his own young eyes. And she likes you too. That’s not a bad thing, ser.

You lean in—just enough he could pull back if he wishes, just enough that it feels more like a choice rather than boldness or impropriety. One of your hands lifts from his chest, moving to his face, cradling the fading bruises. Your thumb traces the rough line of his cheek with the first rasp of red-blond stubble. He leans into the touch. The breath he draws is sharp, unsteady, and those blue eyes search your face—asking the same silent question you are.

“Dunk,” you breathe, whether aloud or only in your thoughts, you aren’t certain.

He moves then, and his kiss, when it comes, is tentative and clumsy with care. But you do not shy away, and something in him loosens—breaks, even. His arm, thick and strong, comes up around your shoulders, drawing you closer, further into him. Dunk’s lips press firmer then, lingering just a heartbeat longer before he draws back, his nose brushing yours, and breath unsteady against your cheek. 

You tilt your head to the side and catch his lips with yours before he can speak or think to doubt it, as you know he’s wont to do. The second kiss is warmer, no less gentle, and all the deeper for the wanting of it. Your fingers curl lightly at his jaw, holding him there. When you part this time, your foreheads rest together. Dunk swallows hard, his large hand shifting as if he might reach for you again, and he does. 

The flap of the tent jerks open. “Ser, I —oh!” Egg stands in the entrance, frozen mid-step, eyes wide as saucers as they dart between you. Your hand on Dunk’s cheek. Dunk’s hand splayed at your waist. The two of you are far closer than propriety would ever allow. 

For one drawn-out second, no one moves. 

Your gaze flits away from your cousin, back to Dunk, and by the look of him—with his reddened ears—he would rather face another trial than his princeling squire. Resigned, your hand falls from his cheek, back to his chest, and your head drops, resting against his shoulder. 

Egg’s face is redder than his scarlet sash, and you cannot help but let out a small, helpless laugh. The first since the lists fell silent—a lovely sound to Dunk’s ears. 

“I knew it,” the boy manages, a grin splitting through his initial surprise. “Shall I come back later, ser?” Egg asks, rising on his toes to seem taller. “Or perhaps stand guard?” He adds, trying his utmost to sound serious but nigh on the verge of giddy laughter—how could he not be giddy? His favorite cousin and new friend. 

Dunk groans softly and lets his head fall back against the bedframe, dragging a hand down over his face. “Seven save me,” he mutters. 

Egg’s smile widens at hearing it. The boy is far too pleased with himself, but he takes a step back out of the tent, not leaving entirely yet—fingers still hooked into the dyed canvas. “Can’t have anyone else interrupting.”

“Egg,” Dunk warns. There’s no real heat in it, more so just the embarrassment of being caught. 

A few more heartbeats pass. He looks down at you, still resting your head on his shoulder, smiling. But Ser Duncan the Tall feels a fool. You’re a princess, he reminds himself, he should not have done what he did, no matter how much he—and you—enjoyed it. 

“I’m sorry,” he says at last, low and rough, his hand falling away from your waist. “For,” he falters, unsure which part to name exactly. The kiss? Egg? The silly way his heart starts to race when you hold his hand or smile? He squeezes his eyes shut and, for a quick second, sees Baelor Targaryen standing in his son’s armor, an almost sad smile on his lips. 

You lift your head, still close enough to him that your noses nearly brush. “Don’t be,” you answer. “It’s not something I regret.” Dunk’s expression eases, leaving that earnest, open look that first struck you all those years ago on the streets of King’s Landing.

His hand lifts to your cheek, fingers just ghosting along the curve of your jaw, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, before his hand slips away again, slow and reluctant. “I shouldn’t have,” he begins again, stubborn in his sense of what is proper. “Yes, you should have,” you interrupt, just as gently as before. Tilting your chin up, you kiss Dunk again, a quick kiss to show you really mean the words you speak. 

You want him, by the old gods and the new, you want him. Dunk’s breath catches. “I…have nothing to give you,” he admits, the words are honest and rough, much like him. “I’ve no castle. No lands. Not even a proper suit of armor of my own.” His mouth twitches, self-conscious. “All I’ve got is my sword, and what vows I can keep.” But you know this already, he knows you know, and you still look at him like that. 

“And a good heart,” you add.

Dunk huffs a breath at that. His gaze drops again, then returns to yours, steadier—braver, with a new look twinkling in his blue eyes. “If,” he starts, then pauses, gathering his courage. “If you’d have me…I’ll be your man.” The words are quiet, even if he’s already spoken them to you what feels like weeks ago now. “Your man, to serve and stand beside you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Your gaze drops to his hand, and you reach for it once more, fingers slipping lightly into his palm. Lifting your entwined hands, you—a princess of House Targaryen—kiss one of his scarred knuckles. “I would have you,” you answer, soft and sure. 

For a heartbeat, he looks like the boy who once stood in the street with a ring in his palm again. You rest your forehead against his, hands still joined, his thumb brushing once over your knuckles in that same tentative, hopeful way.

Ser Duncan the Tall may have nothing, he thinks—but with you in his arms and your breath warm against his lips, he feels he has been given everything he’s ever dared to dream of and hope for.

“Sister, what in the devil are you doing!”

“Look,” you whisper, your eyes still glued to the mystery man.

Lyonel’s head whips around. “Where?”

You roll your eyes, your hand moving to grasp at your brother’s chin. With his beard in your grip, you force his head to move in the direction you want him to look.

“What exactly am I—oh.”

Somehow the small oh that escapes his lips describes exactly how you feel inside.

“Oh indeed, brother dear.”

You both gape in unison for a moment before turning to face each other. Lyonel gives you a look — one you know the meaning of immediately. You begin shaking your head.

“No.”

“Sister…”

“I saw him first!”

Lyonel gives you another look, different from the first but still immediately recognizable. You let out a groan.

“It’s not fair,” you huff, your voice low but heated. “I’m the one who found him.”

“It’s my tent,” Lionel replies immediately, lifting his chin as if that alone settles the matter.

You open your mouth in shock, staring at him as though he’d just insulted your blood line. 

“It’s our tent,” you correct, your tone sharp.

“Oh yeah?” he shoots back, leaning forward in his chair, eyes narrowing in defiance. “Did you set it up?”

You scoff loudly, folding your arms.

“No. But neither did you, you buffoon.”

“I gave the command,” he says smugly, reclining back like a lord passing judgment.

“Yes, of course,” you mutter dryly, rolling your eyes. “Because that counts.”

You both stare each other down for a moment, as if to see which will break. Normally Lyonel wins — not because he’s the last to break, but because you don’t have it in you to fight him for the mere pleasure of sharing a night with the man you’re fighting over.

But this one. This one is different.

Something about him makes you want to let him linger. You want to have him for more than just one night.

You give your best pout. “You’re not being fair.”

Lyonel, being the good big brother that he is, hates to see you pouting, so despite himself he sighs, sinking into his chair.

“Fine…” he mumbles, and you give him a grin, your mouth opening to say thank you when he continues talking. “We can share him.”

The grin he gives you is not befitting for a Baratheon. If anything, the mischief behind his eyes should belong to a Targaryen. You swat at his arm and he feigns pain.

“Lyonel,” you whisper-shout, hitting him one more time.

“Ow, will you stop that?” He finally manages to grab at your wrist, stopping you from swatting him again. 

You tug your arm from his grip as you pout. Lyonel lets out an exasperated sigh as he watches you cross your arms against your chest, sinking into your chair. He lets you mope for a while before speaking up.

“How about he chooses?”

Your brows quirk up, moving to look at him.

“How exactly would he do that?” you question

Lyonel gives you his signature grin.

“We dance, and whoever he favors in the dance gets to have their fun with him.”

This was a good proposition. If there was something you and Lyonel shared, other than your taste in men, it was your ability to dance.

You gave him a wicked smile.

“You’re on, brother.”

Dunk had never had so much attention on him. It was kind of… overwhelming. When he’d been called over to talk to the owners of the tent, he’d thought he would be kicked out immediately, but that had not been the case. He had kept his attention on Lyonel Baratheon as he spoke, but it was impossible to ignore your lingering gaze on him.

Dunk’s eyes had fluttered briefly to you at the feeling of your stare on him, and when your eyes had met his, you let out a soft smile. Dunk’s heart hammered in his chest at the sight.

And when Lyonel had asked him if he enjoyed dancing, a wide grin appearing on the lord’s face as he answered yes, he couldn’t help but notice the glance both of you exchanged at the words.

Dunk wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he said yes to dancing, but this was certainly not it. He had never seen people move in the way you and Lyonel did.

Your movements were fluid and strong, like the current of a river, while Lyonel’s were rough and commanding, like the wind on a storming day. Despite the difference between you, they were both beautiful to watch.

Lyonel chased after Dunk, his movements seeming like a challenge, and Dunk responded in kind, mirroring the lord’s intensity. You lingered around them, flowing undisturbed by the exchange between the two men.

Dunk tried to pay attention to the man before him, his feet thundering against the ground as he playfully fled Lyonel’s advance, but as soon as he saw your dress flitting by, your hair a wild mess as you continued to spin to the rhythm of the song, his attention couldn’t help but shift to you.

You were an absolute sight.

He’d heard of you, of course — the lady of House Baratheon. Everyone in the realms knew of your beauty and fiery tongue. The confidence seemed to be connected to your blood somehow, because Dunk could tell Lyonel had it too, that same sense of unfazed energy that seemed to seep out of you.

Lyonel caught Dunk’s interest in you almost immediately, his own eyes moving to follow your movements as you danced. You hadn’t even noticed Dunk’s eyes on you yet, far too connected to the feeling of the dance to care about much else.

The sight made Lyonel smile.

He wasn’t bitter about losing, because it was clear from the way Dunk’s eyes lingered on you that something about you had clutched at the giant’s heart. And you weren’t even trying so hard. While Lyonel was actively chasing Dunk, you had been lost in your own world, and even so, you’d managed to get Dunk’s attention.

It was a shame he would not have his fun with Dunk, but he was glad to see the reverence for you in the large man’s eyes.

“Don’t just stand there, big man. Go dance with her,” Lyonel shouted softly, trying to be heard over the sound of music mixed with people’s joy-filled noises.

Dunk’s head snapped toward him at the words, wide blue eyes finding his in what Lyonel could only describe as panic.

“What?” the giant questioned, his jerky dance movements faltering for a moment.

“Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite,” Lyonel said, already gripping at Dunk’s shoulders — as best he could, anyway — and guiding him to face where you stood. “Unless you ask, of course.”

And with that, he gave Dunk a push and a pat on the backside, thrusting the giant closer to you.

Your eyes snapped open as you felt something graze you softly, your head lifting to glance at Dunk. His eyes were wide and his expression clearly nervous. You wondered if perhaps the uneasiness in his gaze was a constant in his expression. It certainly seemed to be, given that in the few moments you’d interacted, he was always looking at you with those blue orbs filled with worry.

“Sorry, m’lady, your brother—”

“Never mind that,” you cut him off, your hand moving to grab him. “Dance with me.”

You waited for a moment, smiling at Dunk’s frightened face before he gave you a small nod.

That was all you needed to tug him along with you.

You weren’t sure how long the dancing lasted. Long enough for your lungs to burn and your hair to cling to your temples. Your feet ached inside your shoes. 

You let out a breathless laugh as you stumbled toward a nearby chair, nearly collapsing into it. Your hand immediately reached for your goblet, fingers curling around the cool metal before lifting it to your lips. The wine tasted sweeter now.

A heavy thud sounded beside you.

Dunk dropped into the chair next to yours, the wood creaking in protest under his weight. His chest rose and fell quickly, broad shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment neither of you spoke. 

You turned your head slowly. He was already looking at you.

His cheeks were flushed, curls damp with sweat, blue eyes bright in a way that made something warm curl low in your stomach. There was still that nervousness there — but it had softened. Changed. Replaced with something almost… awed.

You smiled first. He followed a second later, slower, smaller — like he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to. Your heart skipped.

You glanced around then, suddenly remembering the reason this had begun in the first place. Your eyes searched for Lyonel.

You found him easily.

He was leaning against a table across the tent, already deep in conversation with a pretty lordling, laughing loudly at something that had been said. He did not once look your way.

Not once.

A slow understanding settled over you. He had seen it too.

You turned back to Dunk, studying him openly now. He shifted slightly under your gaze, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“That was… ah…” he started, still catching his breath.

“Exhausting?” you offered lightly.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Aye, m’lady.”

You leaned closer, lowering your voice just enough that it felt like a secret.

“Would you care to step outside, Ser Duncan?” Your fingers traced idly around the rim of your goblet. “For some air.”

His eyes widened slightly at the use of his name.

For a moment you wondered if he would refuse.

Then he nodded.

“I would like that.”

And the way he said it — soft, sincere — made your chest tighten.

The night air was cooler outside the tent. The noise of the feast dulled behind you, replaced by distant laughter and the rustle of wind through the trees. Dunk walked half a step behind you at first, large hands clasped awkwardly behind his back as though he were escorting a queen instead of simply walking beside you.

You noticed.

“You may walk next to me, Ser Duncan,” you said lightly, not looking at him.

He hesitated — only for a second — before moving to your side.

“Yes, m’lady.”

You hummed softly at that.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You seemed content, breathing in the night air, skirts brushing against the grass. Dunk, however, looked anything but content.

His shoulders were tense. His gaze flickered around as if waiting for someone to shout at him for daring to walk alone with a noblewoman.

“You look as though you are marching to your execution,” you said at last.

His head snapped toward you. “I beg your pardon?”

You smiled.

“You’re frowning.”

He hadn’t realized he was.

“It isn’t proper,” he admitted after a moment, voice low. “Me walking alone with you. I wouldn’t want talk to start.”

You let out a quiet laugh.

“Let them talk.”

That surprised him. You finally looked at him fully then, brows lifting slightly.

“Do you always care so much about what others think?”

His jaw tightened faintly.

“I care about not overstepping.”

The answer was honest. Painfully so. Something in your expression softened.

“And do you believe walking beside me is overstepping?”

He swallowed.

“You are a lady of House Baratheon.”

“And you are Ser Duncan the Tall,” you replied easily. “I asked you to walk with me.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

The silence that followed was lighter now. After a few more steps, curiosity tugged at you.

“So where is it you sleep?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He blinked.

“Sleep, m’lady?”

“Yes. Your lodgings.”

His expression shifted — just slightly — but you caught it. A flicker of embarrassment.

“I’ve no tent of my own,” he said carefully. “There’s an elm not far from the edge of the grounds. I bed down beneath it.”

He kept his eyes forward as he said it, bracing himself. Waiting. For disgust. For polite pity. For distance.

Instead, you stopped walking.

He halted too, confused, looking down at you.

Your eyes were bright.

“You’re a real hedge knight, then?” 

It wasn’t really a question, more of a quiet observation. There was no repulsion in it either — if anything, Dunk thought he heard a bit of astonishment in your tone. You glanced up at him, your eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place.

“Would you show me?”

For a moment, he simply stared.

“Show you?” he repeated, as if he’d misheard.

“The elm,” you clarified, stepping closer. “You make it sound… rather nice.”

He felt something shift in his chest.

“Yes,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “Yes, of course, m’lady.”

And when he started leading you toward the tree, he did not walk behind you this time.

The elm wasn’t far.

Dunk slowed as they approached it, suddenly aware of every crooked branch and every patch of worn grass beneath it. What had always seemed perfectly fine to him now felt… small.

He stopped a few steps away.

“This is it,” he said, almost apologetically.

You stepped forward without hesitation.

Dunk remained where he was, large hands clasping and unclasping in front of him as he watched you take in the space. There was little to see — a thick elm with sprawling roots, a worn patch of earth where he laid his cloak, a saddle resting against the trunk.

You walked slowly around the tree, fingertips brushing lightly over the bark. Your skirts whispered against the grass. You tilted your head back to look up through the branches, following the way they stretched wide into the night sky.

Dunk shifted his weight.

He had seen noblewomen wrinkle their noses at far less.

“It is quite large,” you said softly.

He blinked.

You turned then, looking at him over your shoulder. There was no disgust on your face. No thinly veiled pity. Only something thoughtful. Curious.

“Though perhaps not for you,” you said with a soft smile, referring once again to his large stature. Dunk smiled to himself as you turned back to the tree, your head lifting as you continued to glance at the leaves above.

“It must keep the rain off well enough.”

“Aye,” he answered quickly. “It does.”

You moved closer to the trunk, crouching slightly to inspect the ground where he slept. Dunk’s stomach tightened. Your fingers grazed against the dirt before you pressed your palm into the grass, eyes closing for a moment.

“I’ve slept in worse places,” he added, as if needing to defend it.

You glanced up at him again.

“I’m sure you have.”

There was no mockery in your tone. Only fact.

You rose to your feet and walked back toward him, your expression thoughtful rather than disturbed. You stood there for a moment, your head tilting slightly to the side. It was clear you were thinking about something, but Dunk could not tell exactly what.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” you said after a moment.

That caught him off guard. His eyes widened, his head moving slightly to the side as he looked at you. Your face remained forward, eyes never leaving the elm tree. It was almost as if you had not spoken the words, almost as if Dunk had imagined them.

But then you spoke again.

“It’s okay if you have. There is no shame in it.”

His mouth opened and closed, his brain trying to understand what it was he was supposed to do in this situation.

“I have,” you said simply, and Dunk’s brows raised even more. You finally turned your attention to him, catching his comical expression. “Been with men, I mean,” you clarified.

He didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t. Why in the Seven Hells were you telling him this? Where had this conversation come from? One moment you were talking about a tree, and the next you were asking him if he’d ever been with a woman?

“Have I upset you?”

The worry in your voice made Dunk’s attention snap fully back to you. His eyes trailed over your furrowed brows. Your lips parted softly as if realizing something.

“I have, haven’t I?” you whispered before letting out a soft tsk. “Seven hells, what was I…” You began to turn around, muttering something about being far too direct and perhaps a sort of apology for your outspoken nature.

But Dunk heard none of it.

The only thing he could think of was the sight of your grinning face as you danced with him. The feeling of your hand on his arm as you guided him along. Your soft panting as you struggled to catch your breath after. And your question — Have you been with a woman? — echoed in his head.

You were beginning to move away from him, no doubt embarrassed due to his lack of response. The thought that he might have shamed you — and the realization that you were slipping away from him — finally pushed him to act.

His hand reached out, gripping your arm with ease. You were farther from him, but his large size allowed him to reach you without difficulty.

Your head snapped toward him at the feeling of his hand on your wrist. Your eyes moved from where he held you to his face. You blinked at him, the moonlight casting a soft glow onto your features.

Your mouth parted as if to say something, but before you could, Dunk spoke.

“I have.”

He watched your lips part even more.

“Been with women, m’lady.”

The sigh that slipped from your lips sounded more like a gasp, and Dunk couldn’t help but flush at the sound.

You stepped forward, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. You stared into his eyes for a moment before your gaze flitted down to his lips.

Gods, you wanted to kiss him so badly.

You stepped closer, close enough now that he could smell the faint trace of wine lingering on your breath.

For a moment, Dunk could not speak. His heart thundered against his chest. The hand he held onto you with was damp with sweat — he was sure you could feel it — but you didn’t seem to mind.

You had never hesitated before. Not like this. You had never needed permission. Never needed reassurance.

And yet…you suddenly felt unsure.

Not because you didn’t want him, but because you dreaded the possibility that he would not want you.

“Would you…” Your voice almost caught, and that alone startled you. “Would you want to be with me?”

Of all the things he had expected you to say, it had not been that. Not with that small, uncertain note in your voice. Not when you were a Baratheon. Not when you had carried yourself all night like a storm no man could stand against.

And here you were, looking up at him as though he held the power.

It felt absurd.

His hand lifted before he could think better of it. Large and warm, it came to rest against your cheek, rough thumb brushing just slightly along your skin.

Your eyes closed at the touch.

He exhaled shakily.

“It would be an honor,” he said, and he meant it. Every word.

Your eyes opened slowly.

And then you grinned.

“Good.”

You surged up on your toes and kissed him.

It was not tentative. It was heat and wine and breath and hands fisting into fabric. His other arm wrapped around your waist instinctively, pulling you closer, as though afraid you might disappear if he did not anchor you there.

You kissed him like you had decided something. Like you had chosen him.

And for a moment, Dunk forgot every rule he had ever tried to live by.

When you pulled back, breathless, you did not give him time to recover. Your hand slid into his, fingers lacing tightly.

“Come,” you murmured.

He followed.

Of course he followed.

You led him back toward the elm, toward the worn patch of earth and the cloak laid carefully against the roots. Your heart was pounding now, not from dancing but from anticipation.

Dunk slowed.

“Here?” he asked, voice rough.

You turned to him, brows lifting slightly.

“Yes. Why not?”

He glanced at the ground, then back at you.

“It isn’t… befitting,” he managed.

You laughed softly — not cruelly, but genuinely amused.

“I don’t care.”

And the way you said it — so certain, so unbothered — made something inside him finally loosen. 

You stepped closer again, hands finding his chest.

“Do you?”

His answer came in the way he kissed you this time.

Your fingers gripped his tunic at the intensity of the kiss. The soft hiss you let out as your back struck the elm’s bark was swallowed by Dunk’s eager mouth. You didn’t know where his sudden confidence had come from, but you were enjoying this new side of him.

One of his hands moved to brace against the tree as he crowded you, his other hand gripping your chin, guiding your mouth to stay fused with his. He stepped closer, and the movement made you feel him against you.

Gods. He was already hard.

You were about to slide your hand down when he suddenly pulled away.

You stared at him, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. And before you could utter so much as a word, he had dropped to his knees before you.

His hands found your waist, caressing you through the fabric of your skirts as he looked up at you — not hesitant, but intent.

“May I?”

“Yes…” you breathed, your head falling back against the tree as Dunk’s hands began to gather your skirts in his grasp.

His movements were swift, the worry and hesitation you’d seen him display all evening now completely gone. You barely had time to adjust to the cold air against your skin before Dunk was leaning in, his tongue moving to lick at you. You gasped, a hand gripping at his hair immediately. 

One of his hands pressed against your stomach, keeping your skirts lifted as he continued his ministrations. Your hips bucked against him unconsciously, chasing the pleasure and causing his nose to brush against your most sensitive spot. You let out a moan, your head twisting to the side at the sensation, the rough bark digging into your cheek as you did.

“Ser Duncan,” you whined, the use of his title causing him to twitch beneath his clothes. Even so, he forced himself to pull away enough to speak.

“Just Dunk, m’lady,” he whispered against your skin, his face still partially concealed by your skirts.

“What?” you whispered, prompting him to lift his head so he could look at you. His mouth was slick, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip to keep quiet.

“It’s just Dunk, m’lady,” he said simply. “For you, I’m just Dunk.”

The way he said it — so completely devoid of pride, so ready to lay himself bare for you — made your brows furrow. Your hand rose to his cheek, a soft smile touching your lips.

“My Dunk,” you sighed.

Dunk let out a low groan at your words, his eyes locked on yours as his hand inched higher along your leg. He watched your mouth fall open in a quiet cry as his fingers slid into you.

Your walls fluttered around him, your body unaccustomed to the sudden intrusion. But as soon as he began to move his fingers, the initial flicker of discomfort on your face melted into pleasure. He continued to watch you as he quickened the pace, soft grunts leaving him while you moaned his name.

Your hand moved to grip his hair, gently guiding his face back to where it had been before. Dunk didn’t hesitate, his tongue joining his fingers as he continued to draw you closer to your high. It didn’t take long — not with the steady rhythm of his touch and the heat of his mouth against you.

When his free hand left your stomach to lift your leg over his broad shoulder, shifting you to a deeper angle, you were undone. You cried out his name, nails digging into the bark behind you and into Dunk’s scalp as pleasure crashed over you, juices covering his face as it did.

You sagged softly against the elm, your breath coming in short bursts. Dunk remained beneath your skirts for a moment longer, his hand moving slowly up and down your thigh in a gentle caress.

Once you had managed to steady your racing heart, your hand drifted to Dunk’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze meant to signal for him to rise.

Dunk understood your request, his hand moving to set your foot gently back on the ground before pulling your skirts down from over his head. He rose with ease, one hand coming up to brace against the tree beside your head as he looked down at you.

You offered him a satisfied smile, one of your hands lifting to his face. Your finger brushed at the wetness smeared along his chin before you brought it slowly to your mouth. Dunk watched the motion, his body visibly shaking at the sight.

You grinned up at him then, your gaze dropping pointedly to the unmistakable tent in his trousers.

“Your turn.”

You had barely moved an inch before Dunk’s hand gripped you. You looked up at him, face wide with confusion.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to,” he began, desperately trying to keep his thoughts in order. “It’s just that… well… I don’t think I’ll last much if you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his confession.

He gave you a shy look. “And I’d… uh… well, I’d much rather be inside you.”

Your brows raised in surprise. Dunk caught the reaction immediately, already beginning to stammer.

“If—I mean—if you’d let me, of course.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped from your mouth. The sound made Dunk’s brows shoot up. But you were quick to reassure him.

“Yes, Dunk. Of course I’d let you,” you smiled, hand caressing his cheek. “Actually, I was hoping you’d ask.”

“You were?” he questioned, clearly surprised.

Instead of answering him, you pushed yourself up and pressed a kiss to his lips. Dunk groaned against your mouth, large hands moving to hold your waist. Once you broke the kiss, your foreheads rested against each other for a moment before Dunk pulled back. His hand moved to grasp yours, slowly inching toward where his bed lay.

“Where are you going?” you asked softly.

Dunk looked at you, then at his cloak.

“I thought you ought to lay down.”

You followed his gaze, a look of amusement flashing over your face before you looked back at him.

“No need. Here is fine.”

Dunk glanced at the ground beneath your feet, scattered with roots and broken branches.

“Here, m’lady?”

“No, Dunk,” you answered with a laugh, your hand lifting his head so he was looking at you. You let go of his hand and leaned back against the elm’s trunk. “Here.”

Dunk began to shake his head.

“But, m’lady, it’s—”

“Unbefitting?” you interrupted. “And your tongue inside me wasn’t?”

Dunk’s mind froze for a moment, the bluntness of your words catching him off guard.

“But… you—”

“Yes?”

“You’re a lady. You should be treated as—”

“No, I’m not,” you cut in, making Dunk’s brows furrow even more. You stepped closer to him.

“If, to me, you are just Dunk and not Ser Duncan the Tall, then to you I am just me, not a lady of House Baratheon.”

Dunk continued to gaze at you, uncertain.

“Lust knows not the bounds of titles, Dunk,” you said simply. “Nor does love, for that matter.”

Dunk took in your words. He wasn’t certain he fully understood, but now was not the time to dwell on meaning — for him or for you. There would be time later.

For the first time that night, Dunk’s resolve steeled. He stepped forward, the movement lacking any hesitation. Once he was close enough, his hands moved to your waist, pressing you gently against the bark so he could lean down and give you a searing kiss. When he lifted you with ease, your legs wound instinctively around his waist.

Dunk shifted, one of his hands moving to wrap around your body as the other worked on untying his breeches. You continued to kiss him as he did, your arms wrapping around his neck, your tongues brushing together.

Dunk pulled back just enough to free his mouth from yours, his forehead resting against yours as your breaths mingled.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” you sighed back.

That was all he needed. With one swift movement Dunk lined himself up and began pushing himself inside you. Your brows furrowed, nails clawing at his shoulder at the intrusion. He was thicker than the men you had been with before so the pressure was overwhelming. Even so the pain didn't last. 

Dunk moved slowly, trying his best not to hurt you. Every gasp you let out made him want to pull away, but the way you clawed at him stopped him from doing so. With one last shove he settled completely in you, his head moving to rest on your shoulder as he willed himself to not cum too soon. 

“Gods you… fuck you’re so warm,” Dunk muttered, more to himself than anything.

All you could do was whine softly, your fingers threading into his hair as you adjusted to the size of him. Your walls fluttered around him, making his job of staying still a lot harder. 

“Dunk,” you sighed, voice barely audible over your beating heart “Move.”

So he did. He tugged back slightly, pulling back as much as he could without leaving you fully, before plunging back in. You back hit against the bark as he began to thirst into you. He started off slow at first, perhaps afraid of hurting you but it did not last. Soon enough Dunk was practically pistoling into you. 

You had lost the ability to talk, the only sounds that left your mouth were gasps and moans. Dunk wasn’t much better, with each powerful thrust a grunt escaped his throat. But that didn't mean he couldn’t talk too. If anything the longer he was inside of you the more he talked.

“Gods… you feel incredible.” “That’s it… let it out. Sound so lovely for me.” “Gods, what have I done to deserve this?”

The praise seemed endless, and all you could do was bask in it. Dunk was barely holding on, you could tell by the way he twitched against you. Despite your own scattered thoughts, you forced yourself to lean closer, pressing your mouth near his ear.

“Cum Dunk,” you whispered.

“I shouldn't," he reasoned. “Not inside.”

“Please. I want it,” you murmured against his ear, nose nudging softly on his cheek "It's okay I promise."

He knew he should not do it. It was unwise. Dangerous even. But you had asked him, and he would give you the moon if you asked.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I need you to cum first though, are…are you close?”

“Just cum Dunk.”

“But you’ll-”

“If you do, I swear I will too…just…please” you groaned.

Dunk nodded, his hands shifting so he could better hold onto you before he sped up his movements. His mouth dropped open in a silent groan as he came. You followed after him, the feeling of his seed spilling into you triggered your own orgasm. A shout of his name slipped from your lips before you sagged against his body, locked limbs finally relaxing. 

Dunk's seed seemed never ending, it kept flowing out until it started to spill down your thighs. It didn't surprise you though, not with his stature. Once it seemed to have finished, Dunk’s dick softening inside you, he pulled out. You whined softly as your feet hit the ground, thighs aching from having been locked against his large waist for so long. 

Before you could even think about what had just happened, Dunk pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You accepted it, hand splaying across his chest as you kissed him back.

“Can I stay with you?” you asked once he pulled away.

“I… I don’t think that would be wise, m’lady,” he whispered shyly. “People will come looking for you, and I’m not so sure they’d be kind if they found you—”

“Tangled in the arms of a hedge knight?”

Dunk smiled at your tone, his nose brushing against yours as your foreheads stayed pressed together. You let out a sigh, hand moving to tangle your fingers with his.

“Then come back with me,” you said softly. “Sleep in my tent with me.”

Dunk pulled back at the words, looking at you with unfiltered surprise.

“What?” you asked. “It’s not like my brother would care.”

Dunk opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off.

“And don’t dare say it’s unbefitting. I couldn’t give less of a fuck.”

The laugh that escaped Dunk was unexpected. It caused a large grin to spread across your face. He moved his free hand to your cheek, thumb brushing over it as he continued to stare at you.

“Alright.”

He could not deny you anything. If you’d asked him to walk to the ends of the earth, he would follow without hesitation — if only to see the beautiful smile plastered across your face.

“Good,” you said, moving toward where you had come from, your hand still clasped in his. “Come on, then.”

"The whole crew is getting together, and then some. It will be like old times. Smoke the blunt, Huerta," DIego insisted again, going so far as to push the blunt into Tenoch's lips and lift his lighter up for him.

"Aye, cabron. Okay, okay, just one. While everyone arrives," Tenoch gave in. He was at Diego Luna's place for a small get together, but he had a feeling it would turn out to be more of a rager than he anticipated.

A few tequila shots and two more blunts and Tenoch was practically floating. The party was winding down and couples were paired up, stealing kisses, and making plans to call for rides. Diego appeared near the pool where Tenoch stood looking up at the stars.

"Mi amigo, I called y/n to come pick you up. No way in hell am I letting you drive home," Diego said as he clapped him on the shoulder. The other actor was smoking a cigarette and seemed to be completely sober.

"Is your tolerance that high now?" Tenoch asked as he leaned heavily into Diego's side. Diego, used to the affectionate ways of an intoxicated Tenoch, pulled the darker man into a headlock, ruffling his hair. "Your tolerance is just low as fuck, Noch. Y/n is going to be pissed."

Tenoch giggled at the idea of his girl coming to pick him up in his state. "I can't wait."

"Aye de puta madre," Diego shoved Tenoch away from him, "I don't need to hear about how whipped you are. Go inside and wait for her, puto."

Tenoch swayed and laughed heartily as he made his way inside. He had barely sat down on the couch with the last few party goers when you arrived. You entered the sitting room, scanned the area and found him instantly. Swiftly you walked over and smacked the back of his head.

"Aye! No mames!" Tenoch yelped as he rubbed the back of his head. Once he looked up and realized it was you he smiled like he'd just won a prize. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close. His head rested between your breasts as he nuzzled into you, " Aye, mi vida, mi amor, mi unico."

His grip on you was tight as he mumbled against your chest. His hands roamed your waist and butt, pushing your shirt up in the back to touch skin. You slapped his hands away and he let out a sound like a whine. "Tenoch, querido, I'm going to kick your ass once you're sober."

"Take me home, preciosa," Tenoch said, pulling your hands to his face so he could pepper them with kisses. With a heavy sigh you helped him stand and guided him to your car.

He was giggling to himself as you drove the short distance to your own shared home. It was late and there weren't many cars on the street but it seemed that you were hitting ever stop light. From your peripheral you could see Tenoch fidgeting slightly.

"What are you doing?" You asked, focusing on the drive.

"Nothing," Tenoch said, though his voice sounded lower and breathy.

Suspicious, you turned to him at the next stop light and realized he had undid his pants and had his hand shoved into his boxer. Tenoch had his head leaned back and his eyes closed as he pleasured himself.

"You couldn't wait until we got home?" You asked, trying not to let him know that the sight of his loss of inhibitions was a turn on.

"Mi amor, give me your hand," Tenoch tried to take your hand but you batted him away.

"I know what you're doing. I'm driving so just take care of yourself," You chuckled as he made another whiny noise,

"Mi amor, please," He tried to take your hand again and you let him. He brought it to his cheek and kissed your palm, "I missed you. You should have come to the party with me."

"And end up crossfaded like you are right now?" You said as you turned up your drive way. Once you were fully parked you turned to the actor, who was still stroking his cock in his boxers. "Time to go in."

Tenoch undid his seat belt and as soon as yours was loose he pulled you by the back of your head into a heady kiss. He moaned softly against your mouth when you nipped his lip and gently shoved him by his chest. "Who told you that you could steal a kiss?"

"Baby, please." Tenoch pleaded, his jerking was getting faster.

"If you cum in my car you're sleeping on the couch," You said, grabbing his chin. His eyes widened but his hand stopped its movements, "Now be a good boy, and go inside and wait for me in the bedroom."

Tenoch nodded as he fastened his pants and headed straight inside. You smiled to yourself. It had been awhile since the man had been in this type of mood and you were going to enjoy it while it lasts. You generally enjoyed being a bit more submissive but the dominant side of you had its place.

When you went up to your bedroom Tenoch was sitting patiently on the edge of the bed, still high as he swayed a bit. There was a lazy grin on his face as you walked up to him. You noticed that his crotch was still visibly tented.

You gently grabbed his chin and kissed him chastely. You relished in the way he chased your lips with his, begging for more. You pushed him into the bed, "Wait here, I need to wash up."

"Baaaaby, it's okay just come here, I need you," Tenoch whined again trying to sit up and grab you.

"No, sit here and wait, if you touch yourself you'll sleep downstairs," You commanded, stepping away.

When you returned, having washed up and changed into a night gown, Tenoch was sitting against the head board, having shucked off his jeans and shirt, leaving him bare chested in just his boxers. His heavy lidded eyes followed you the moment you were in sight. Tenoch still had a hard on that was barely being kept at bay by the thin fabric of his underwear.

"Hola, mi vida," You smiled softly at him as you stood at the end of the bed. You couldn't help but laugh quietly as he lifted his hands and made a grabbing motion at you, "Use your words, my love, what do you want?"

"I want you to come here, please," Tenoch said it again with a slight pout to his lip. But you conceded and climbed the bed, sitting yourself next to him. He wasted not time in pulling you down onto the bed, wrapping his arm around you, throwing his leg across yours and nuzzling into your neck. You brought your hand up to caress his curls as he clung to you.

"Are you still feeling high, mi amor?" You asked as he kissed your neck lightly. He nodded against your neck and started to suck on your soft skin. You could feel him slightly moving his hips against your hip, his hard on rubbing up against you. His hand snaked up your waist and began cupping and kneading your breast through the thin fabric of your gown.

"Did you have fun at Diego's besides him being a bad influence?" You asked, trying to distract Tenoch from his ultimate goal of making you just as needy as he seemed to be. The actor seemed to make a positive noise as he started to kiss your jaw line and suck on your earlobe. You could feel his attentions slowly working their magic.

Tenoch worked his way down your neck and pulled your gown down to reveal your breast. He clung to you as he took your nipple into his mouth and suckled gently. You arched into his embrace letting yourself fall into his ministrations. He switched breasts and you pulled at his hair, moaning softly.

You felt him smile against your chest, "Y/n tell me what to do to make you moan like that again."

You pulled him up from your chest and looked him in the eye, "Tenoch, worship me. That's what I want from you. Show me how much you need me."

"Whatever you say, mi corazon," A boyish smile spread across his face before he leaned down and kissed you. His hand snaked down your body and pulled your gown up to your waist. When he reached between your legs and realized that you weren't wearing anything else he groaned, "Aye, mierda. I love how wet you get."

He moved down your body before you could protest, laid between your legs and immediately began devouring you pussy. Tenoch gripped your thighs and sucked and licked at you with enthusiasm. You gripped at his hair hard, making him moan in approval.

Tenoch stayed between your legs for an hour, making you cum again and again. He was moaning words of encouragement and praise against your thigh, begging you to cum for him. When you were practically melted to the bed, Tenoch was looking up at you from his place at your legs, using your thigh as a pillow. His hands were lazily roaming your torso and legs.

"Baby, come lay next to me," You called to him. The actor worked his way up your body with languid kisses.

"You look so beautiful, mi amor," He whispered against your lips as you pulled him in for a kiss. When you pulled away, you glanced at his lap and could see a damp spot darkening his boxers.

"Tenoch did you cum?" You asked, surprised.

"Yea," He let out a tired giggle, "I just wanted you to feel good so badly, I couldn't help it."

You gazed at the silly man who was already slowly falling asleep, wrapped around you like you might disappear. You kissed him and he sighed into your embrace, dozing off. You stroked his hair, reveling in his warmth and love.

...

Honestly that could have been smuttier but it turned kind of cute.

He shut the car off and pulled his hood up. The actor turned to you, "I'm going to turn the back seat down so we can sleep. We have to wait this out."

Without another word, Tenoch threw open the door and made his way to the back. The air was chilly and the rain was steady outside. You could tell he was annoyed with you. You were the one to convince him to go on a road trip with you. It was only supposed to be a week long, a new year get away together. You were also the reason you were going to be stuck in the rented SUV for the night instead of the warmth of a hotel room.

You turned and watched as Tenoch flipped the seats and moved your baggage around. He pulled out the blankets you had packed and arranged the pillows that had taken over the farthest back of the seats. Once situated into a kind of warm nest, Tenoch turned to you. "Just crawl from there, I don't want you to go outside and get wet."

You obeyed him, making sure to toe off your shoes before you landed on your make shift bed for the night. You followed his lead as he got comfortable in the bed. Both of you were already dressed in loungewear considering the weather. When he curled up with his back turned to you, you knew he was mad.

You faced his back, not sure what to do. You laid your hand on his broad back and ran it up and down, "Tenoch, I'm sorry. You were right, we should have just stayed at the hotel."

Tenoch stayed silent for a moment before he turned over to face you. You caressed his cheek, looking at him pleadingly, "Forgive me, I was being way too stubborn."

The look on your face made him melt and he pulled you into him, kissing the crown of your head, "Aw, mi amor, I forgive you. I know you wanted to make it in the time we planned but mother nature seemed to disagree."

"How can I make it up to you?" You asked, your voice muffled against his shoulder. You pulled your head away and looked at him.

"You don't have to do anything, I forgive you." He kissed your forehead and laid back, pulling you into his side. "This can just be another little adventure. The rain sounds nice at least."

You both lay there in silence, listening to the pitter patter of the rain. You started to laugh as an old memory came to your mind. Soon you were overcome with a giggle fit.

Tenoch looked over at you with a questioning smile, "Y/n, why are you laughing like that?"

"I was thinking about how much I used to love rainy days like this. But then I kept thinking about if I really like the rain or not because I always complain about my clothes and shoes getting ruined. Then I remembered the real reason I liked the rain," You rambled off, still fighting your laughter.

Tenoch turned to his side as you continued to giggle, curiosity sparkled in his eyes, "Oh really, what was the reason?"

"It's easier to have sex in a car when it's raining because it's harder for other people to tell what you're doing," You replied, still laughing to yourself, "I used to do that a lot growing up and in college. It was so much nicer doing car hook ups in cold weather."

"No mames guey. So you were riding dick in the ride," Tenoch teased, poking your side playfully.

You swatted his hand lightly, "You say that like you haven't had your fair share of public fun."

It was Tenoch's turn to laugh, shrugging to himself, "Well we both know I'm not inexperienced."

That made you both laugh. As you both grew calm again you smiled at him then leaned into kiss him. He welcomed the kiss, cupping your cheek and taking his time to taste you. When you pulled away you smirked up at him, "You know, it's been awhile since I had sex in a car, but I remember it being really good. I wonder if it still is."

Tenoch's eyes glanced at your lips as he replied, "We can find out."

He moved to hover over you, his forearms bracing himself above you as he captured your lips, Tenoch slid his entire body on top of yours and you took comfort in the weight of him on top of you. He shifted your knees apart with his own and settled himself against you. Your arms snaked their way around his neck as you pressed your torso closer to his. You already yearned for skin to skin contact.

When he pulled away he took a moment to gaze into your eyes, admiring you up close. You brought your hand down to caress his cheek, nose, then lips. Whispering he spoke to you, "I know being stranded sucks, but I wouldn't want to be stranded with anyone else."

Your heart swelled. The kiss that followed was passionate and needy. You were the one to start pulling his clothes off first. When his chest was bare you told him to lay down. You straddled his waist and held his face in your hands as you kissed him. Your hips moved in slow strokes against his lap, making him grasp them.

You combed your hand into his curls and pulled his head to the side as you kissed your way to his exposed neck. His hands guided your hips as you sucked on his neck, making sure to leave a mark. His palms cupped your ass as you nails scratched lightly down his chest.

"Take this off," He commanded, as his hands found your shirts hem and helped you pull it off. Deftly he undid your bra and kissed his way down your chest, his hips moving in tandem against yours.

You grabbed him by the throat and pushed him back, stealing another deep, tongue ravishing kiss. "Lay back."

He followed your order allowing you to kiss your way down his chest, laving a nipple as you made your descent. Tenoch gasped at the sensation and you smiled against his skin. You led with your hands so you could push off his sweat pants, realizing he wasn't wearing anything underneath them.

You knelt between his legs now that you had thrown his pants off to the side. You had one hand massaging his balls as your other spread his precum down his shaft. He was hard as a rock but velvety to touch. Tenoch looked down at you as you pumped his cock in your hand. He threw his head back with a moan as you laid your body closer to the bed and started licking and sucking on his balls. Your other hand still jerking his cock as you licked at the sensitive sacks.

You kissed his thigh to get his attention and you were able to watch Tenoch's eyes roll back into his head as you took his tip and then whole shaft into your mouth and throat. His hands cupped the back of your head as he guided you, trying desperately not to thrust too hard. The actor let off a strangled moan when you refocused your sucking on his sensitive tip and the cleft of his head.

"Fuck," came his breathy answer to your ministrations. You loved when he was a puddle of pleasure for you. You licked down his shaft again and found his balls, your hand circling his shaft. You experimentally licked lower, your other hand pushing a finger towards his ass. Instinctively, he lifted his hips and legs higher to give you better access. You continued to pump his cock with your fist as your tongue found that sensitive bundle of nerved between his cheeks.

The strangled moan that he released this time was different. He seemed surprised but didn't stop you. Your mouth found his balls again and your finger lightly circled his ass which was wet from your tongue. You took his cock back into your mouth at the same time that you inched your finger into his ass. The pleasured groan he let out was loud and guttural. You pushed it in further, curling your finger the slightest bit and Tenoch bucked hard into your mouth.

Tenoch looked down with a hazy look of overstimulated pleasure on his face as you fingered his ass, and once more tongued his tip playfully. You spoke to him, not sure if he would even hear you "Am I making it up to you now?"

He didn't reply immediately, seeming to be slightly incoherent. You pushed your finger in further and turned it, making him clench and throw his head back. The 'yes' he replied came out as a throaty yell into the foggy SUV.

"Cum for me, Tenoch," You begged him as your mouth descended on his cock again. One hand massaged his balls as the other continued to finger his asshole. You pulled your finger out, making him groan from the loss, but you did not let up on his cock. Swiftly, he grew as hard as a rock and his hips began to stutter.

"Mierda," Tenoch cursed as he pushed you down onto his cock as he came down your throat. His hips thrusted once, twice, then a third time as you swallowed his seed. When his hands dropped from your head you pulled away gasping but smiling. The actor was laying there boneless, breathing heavily as you crawled your way back up his chest and kissed him between breathes.

"You okay, baby?" You asked, knowing he couldn't answer right away.

Finally he swallowed and glanced at you, now laying on your side with your head leaning on your hand. He raised an eyebrow, "Where did you learn that?"

You laughed lightly, a little surprised that he didn't protest at all to the new sex act you had literally thrust upon him, "I learned it in the backseat of a car."

Tenoch couldn't help but laugh. He glanced around at the SUV and realized the windows were completely fogged up now. "Wow, now you really can't see anything that's going on in here."

You looked around and nodded in agreement. You were about to speak when Tenoch grabbed you by your side, and swiftly turned you so that your legs were close to his head and you were now upside down. He slipped off your bottoms and then moved you again, making you yelp. The actor placed your knees on either side of your head, "Don't move, baby. It's my turn now."

Your head rested on his leg as his tongue found your wet pussy, then glided higher and teased your ass. You couldn't help but laugh a little at the turn over. He pushed two fingers into your sopping pussy then replaced them at your asshole while he brought his tongue down to suckle on your clit. You felt incredibly full when he eased one slicked finger than another into your ass. His mouth stayed on your clit as his other hand came around and started fingering your pussy.

The feeling of fullness was overwhelming. You muffled your moans against his thigh as he feasted on your cunt and fucked both holes with his fingers. Your orgasm built rapidly and when you came you felt a new kind of release. The sound of wetness increased as Tenoch made you squirt against his fingers and mouth. You nearly collapsed when you finished. The knot of pleasure that broke had seemed to go on forever until Tenoch slowed his ministrations and gently guided you to lay on your side.

It was your turn to lay there in full-bodied bliss. Tenoch flipped over so you both were now laying your heads on the opposite part of the makeshift bed than you started at. He pulled you close and peppered your shoulder and cheek with kisses. "I think we are even."

That took you out of your trance, as you chuckled. "Was what I did worth so much more than a simple apology that you had to make up for it too?"

"Oh definitely." He pulled the blankets over the both of you, tucking you in for a much needed sleep.

~~~

Ah there's the filth I'm talking about.

Tenoch laid awake in his hotel room for the third night in a row overthinking every single interaction from the elevator in his head a thousand times. Was he being too forward with you? Should he have not let it get so far? Had it been inappropriate how long he held you? Not that he regretted any of it, but he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. You didn't seem to be uncomfortable; you never did. The two of you had hit it off so naturally when you had started as his personal assistant over a year ago that Tenoch was almost disappointed that he had to keep it professional. Not that he was succeeding.

He grabbed the pillow next to his head and smothered himself as he let out a loud groan of frustration. He hadn't seen you since the elevator incident as it was advised by the agency to get some rest after the 'harrowing ordeal.' Tenoch could only imagine what his agency or even his manager would say if they had seen him laying his flirting on so thick with his PA.

The actor was once more overwhelmed with worry. He hadn't heard from you and the radio silence was killing him. There was a pretty big interview on a US morning show the next day where he would finally be able to see you. He knew it was a tricky situation. He was technically your superior and in a position of power. But Tenoch didn't want to make you feel like you had to return his obvious affection. As much as he wanted you to.

With another exasperated groan Tenoch flipped over to his side, grabbed his phone and started flipping through his photos. No one knew about the password protected folder he had. It wasn't filled with lascivious photos just pictures of you that he had saved from some of your text conversations. The time you sent him pictures of the earrings that a fan gave you when they realized you were his PA. A photo of you pointing at a pile of his clothes he had strewn all over the hotel room and left you to clean after having 'too much fun' at a cast party. Pictures of you holding up different outfits at the mall for his children as you asked for his opinion. You had insisted on getting the girls gifts.

Tenoch felt himself smiling at the photos and was happy no one could see him. He had been taken aback by your affinity for taking photos but now he was thankful for it. Tenoch still remembered how happy the girls had been each time he brought home gifts from a different country. Gifts you insisted on him telling the girls were from him exclusively. His heart swelled at your kindness and generosity.

He wasn't sure when the playful banter had turned into an infatuation on his end. The man had been attracted to you from the first meeting, he knew that. Anyone would have felt the same seeing you walking toward them with a big and genuine smile on your face as you introduced yourself. But the easy affection and the companionship you cultivated together was unexpected.

The first time you opened up to him about your boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend, he had felt a slight tinge of jealousy but ignored it. Tenoch leant a sympathetic ear and a distraction when necessary. He hadn't liked your ex but did his best not to bad mouth him too much due to his respect for you. But the guy was young and didn't know that you were a treasure, instead focused on impressing his friends and peers. Tenoch had fought himself on several occasions when he had wanted to find the man and kick his ass whenever you texted another story about another wrong he had committed against you. Hearing you say that he had dumped you was not something Tenoch anticipated but it was oddly relieving.

Tenoch could selfishly say that he wanted you to be single so he could have a real chance. He knew you wouldn't look at another man romantically if you were involved. Even if the guy you were involved with had cheated on you repeatedly. It did break his heart to see you cry over the idiotic man. To see you so down and unhappy, worse than he had ever seen you, was too much.

Guilt set in now that he realized he might have taken advantage of you in a vulnerable state. Who was he to be so physically affectionate with you when you were dealing with a break up? Tenoch felt like he could slap himself.

He decided then and there to give you some space the next morning. Play it safe and make sure you were doing ok. No crossing any boundaries. He would rather keep you as a friend rather than alienate you due to his own feelings. The actor sighed and tried to get some sleep before he faced you.

...

"I have the suit!" You practically yelled as you barged into the dressing room. There had been a mix up and Tenoch's suit for the interview had been sent to the wrong studio. You had rushed to get it back in time and thankfully you had. You pulled the light reddish suit out of the garment bag with a triumphant look on your face, "Ta da!!!"

Tenoch laughed and took the suit from you. You noticed him start to go in for a hug, that you expected, but he stopped half way and shook your hand instead, "Good job, y/n! I have just enough time to throw it on. Can you tell them I'll be out in a minute?"

"Uh, yeah. I'll just go tell them," You scrunched your brow in frustration. Tenoch was acting weird. He had been calling you by your first name exclusively, completely foregoing his usual pet names and nicknames. He had been actively avoiding touching you and now he had stopped himself from hugging you. What the hell was he playing at?

You stood on the sidelines as the interview started. He looked dashing as ever in the suit, his hair perfectly styled, and a smile on his face. The two hosts welcomed him warmly and exchanged good natured compliments. The conversation flowed naturally and as they brought up a trailer for Tenoch's new movie you let yourself stare at him. You noticed him staring off into the distance then look down at his hand. He was subconsciously fiddling with the pinky finger of his hand where he usually wore a ring. The ring that you were still wearing on your middle finger, having not taken it off since he put it there. As if reading your mind Tenoch looked up and made eye contact with you.

You met his gaze and saw him glance down at your clasped hands. His eyes widened the slightest bit as he noticed you affectionately rubbing the ring on your finger. Neither of you heard the applause as the trailer ended or the hosts hyping up the movie and calling out to Tenoch.

With a more forceful call of his name Tenoch regained focus, making a joke about how he felt like he was still in the stoic character he had in the movie. The hosts took it well, but you felt guilty for distracting him. You decided to wait in the dressing room while the interview finished.

...

You looked at your phone again, checking the time. The interview should have been over for awhile now. You hadn't received any texts or calls so you hadn't worried about it, knowing that Tenoch liked to talk to some of the production staff or hosts a little longer once the cameras cut. But it was far past the time for him to have returned to the dressing room.

The door opened and you stood, surprised to see one of the set assistants at the door, "Oh y/n, you're still here? I thought you left with Tenoch?"

"Oh I was waiting for him. Is the interview over?" You asked nervously.

"Yea we're already halfway through the next segment. I just came in here looking for a pen. Did Tenoch not tell you he was leaving? He got a call and rushed out a little after we cut to commercial." The assistant told you as they pocketed a couple pens from the counter and left.

Frantically, you looked through your phone again to see if there were any missed messages or calls. That's when your phone rang, showing you that his manager was calling. You answered already spewing an apology, "I am so sorry. I know I'm supposed to be with him but he just took off without telling me-"

"Y/n, it's ok. Calm down. There was some mix up on the set of the Wave project so Tenoch rushed down there. They want him to get some scenes shot before the end of the day since they only have this specific rigging booked for today. I'll forward you the address and you can meet us there. I'll be able to help him for most of it but you can help him wrap up after lunch. See you soon," his manager informed you concisely, as always.

You heaved a sigh of relief which didn't last very long. Your phone pinged with the address and you headed out of the studio while requesting an uber. Once inside the car you texted Tenoch.

Y/N: You could have at least told me where to go! That's what phones are for! Pendejo!

Tenoch: Sorry. They told me to rush. See you soon.

You stared at his lack luster response. Usually you cursing at him would result in an over the top apology and promises of a free meal on him. Something was wrong.

The ride to the film studio wasn't far but it was still the morning rush hour so you let your mind wander. You had been looking forward to seeing Tenoch again after the elevator incident. The days off gave you time to process your break up and how right Tenoch was about you deserving better. The warm feelings he had elicited in you during your short time in the elevator made you smile more than anything your ex had ever done for you.

There was no denying that you were attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? After all he was the Tenoch Huerta, Namor, Rafa, Agua Papi himself. But you had a boyfriend and the actor was for all intents and purposes your boss/superior. You had learned long ago that mixing business and pleasure was not a good idea. However, you had never had such an easy friendship with someone before. You were far too comfortable with his physical affection but it had never been inappropriate. Until that day in the elevator, it had never felt like anything more than the playful banter you had developed.

You had hoped that you would be able to see where this new tension would take the two of you. It seemed that Tenoch wasn't feeling the same way. Maybe he regretted it. Your heart clenched at the thought. You had finally allowed yourself to feel infatuated and here he was pulling away. Well, two could play at that game. You could go back to being incredibly and perfectly professional. No worries for either of you.

You took the ring off your middle finger and shoved it in your jeans pocket for safe keeping.

...

It was a hectic day on set as they rushed to get the scenes finished. Despite all your efforts there were still two scenes to shoot the next day that they had moved up from the original schedule that had them three weeks later. Which meant Tenoch was in a time crunch to prepare for the next set of scenes.

You sat next to Tenoch in the town car that was taking you back to your hotel. Neither of you had spoken to each other much with the hectic day that had passed. You had done your job perfectly and aided the actor as much as you could. He however had not returned to his normal demeanor around you.

Even now, sitting next to each other, he was furiously running lines under his breath while examining a script. He hadn't given you even a side glance since the ride had started.

When you arrived at the hotel, Tenoch was still relatively silent. Leading the way to the elevator while you carried a bag of some of his scripts and clothes. Once the doors closed he finally spared you a glance, letting the script fall from view.

"I'm pretty sure it won't stop this time. It's a different hotel," you said without looking at him.

Tenoch chuckled and sighed before he continued looking over his script, seeming to not care to continue the conversation. This just made you angry.

Once at his hotel room you dropped off his bags and headed for the door without a good bye.

"Wait, y/n," Tenoch called, stopping you before your hand reached the doorknob. You didn't want to look at him, an ache having formed in your chest since the moment in the elevator earlier. Tenoch continued, "Could you run lines with me? I need to be able to bounce them off someone."

You took a deep breath and turned around, plastering a smile onto your face, "Of course."

You took the script in his outstretched hand and looked it over as he took off his jacket and threw it over the back of an armchair. He rolled up his sleeves and looked around the hotel room for a moment.

"Can you move over her to the hall way? It happens in a tight cave so this will help keep the blocking within the realm of possibility if we decide to move while running lines," Tenoch gestured to the small hallway that led to the hotel room door.

You moved to stand against one wall while he stood against the opposite wall. "Okay so which part?"

"This page from this line," Tenoch pointed at a line half way down the page. "Just keep going until I need to stop."

You nodded and began the scene. You ran it a couple of times with Tenoch playing with a few approaches while trying to remember the lines. As you practiced the tension that had been pervading his aura was seeping away, and your own frustration was losing its bite.

In no time you were both laughing. "Aye, mujer, put some oomph into it. You sound like you're reading the phone book."

"I'm not an actor Tenoch. What do you want me to do? We haven't even started moving yet so it's hard for me. When I talk I express with my body, you know that," You were now working on his characterization now that the lines were sticking in his mind.

Tenoch looked at you thoughtfully, "Alright, well feel free to move however you want but you need to remember that the character hates me but is attracted to me. She's frustrated that the only option to find her brother is to team up with me and now we are stuck in a cave and she has truly become fed up. So far all I'm getting from you is the hatred."

You couldn't help but laugh at the irony, "Fine, fine, okay. I'll try harder."

"Prefect, I know you can do it, and if you do a good job then it will help me do a better job. So I'm counting on you, hermosa," Tenoch flashed you a dazzling smile.

"Oh would you just shut up already!" You stomped and took a step forward.

A surprised look flitted across Tenoch's face as you started the scene. You took another step forward, "You're such an infuriating ass! The only reason,"

You pointed at him as you took another step, "the only reason at all that I'm putting up with you is my brother,"

You were now inches from touching your chest to Tenoch's. You shoved your finger in his face, "and look where that has got us! Stuck in a cave, who knows where, after three days in the wild!"

Tenoch brushed your finger out of his face, and stood to his full height, "You've got a lot of nerve to yell at me when I am helping you out of the goodness of my heart,"

"The goodness of your heart? All you've done is make me question my own abilities, lose a family heirloom, and kept me up all night thinking about how unfair it is that you look so good after three days in the middle of no man's land!" You let the character take over and felt yourself flush, covering your mouth in surprise of your own confession.

Tenoch tilted his head and a knowing smirk spread across his lips. He took a step forward, forcing you to take a step back, "You think I look good?"

"I-it's that stupid hair of yours. L-like you just came from a salon 24/7. I-it's ridiculous," the stuttering was part of your character but also because of the way Tenoch was looking you up and down. He hadn't stopped taking slow steps toward you until your back was flush against the wall.

He chuckled, a low and deep sound that shot to your core. His eyes were dark as he brought his finger to your chin, tilting you up to meet his eyes, "I bet you hate that you let me know that."

You gulped audibly as he gently wrapped his hand around your throat. He kept his hand gentle but firm as it glided down your neck and sat at the base of your throat like a necklace. A shiver of anticipation travelled down you spine. "It doesn't mean anything, don't read into it."

"Even if I don't read into that I can read a few other things. Like how your eyes keep glancing at my lips, or how your pupils are dilated. Or even how your breathing has gotten faster," With each trait he listed his face inched closer to yours.

You wrapped your hand around his wrist, "That doesn't mean anything,"

Tenoch looked at you, scanning your features, the predatory smirk still on his lips. He started to speak and then was stopped short. His demeanor changed and you immediately knew he had dropped character. He was staring at your throat.

"Uh...Tenoch, what's wrong?" You asked, following suit and letting the scene fall away.

He relinquished his hold on you and looked in your eye as he took your hand. "You took it off."

"Took what off?" You looked at him confused. The scene was going so well.

Tenoch lifted your hand so that you could both see it, "You took off my ring,"

Before you could respond, Tenoch dropped your hand and backed up until he was against the opposite wall again. He was silent, not looking at you, deep in thought. The actor looked hurt. Hurt because of you.

"I know that what happened in the elevator was not the most appropriate interaction we have had. But I would like to apologize for making you uncomfortable with my actions and open display of affection. I don't ever want to make you feel that way and it was not my place to take advantage of you when you were being open with me about your break up. I sincerely apologize, y/n." Tenoch said it all so fast it took you a moment to process what he said.

"What the hell are you apologizing for?" You replied once you understood.

"I really appreciate your work and your friendship. I don't want to ruin that because I let my attraction to you get in the way. I mean I even got distracted by you this morning at the interview. I know how much professionalism means to you. I will do better," Tenoch steamrolled on with his apology still not looking you in the eye, the tension that had left him early was fully on display.

You took that moment to take the ring out of your pocket. "Jose Tenoch Huerta Mejia you have nothing to apologize for."

He looked up when you used his full name. Tenoch watched with an incredulous look as you showed him the ring and slipped it back on your finger.

"You're an idiot. If I felt uncomfortable around you I would have kicked your ass a long time ago, pendejo." You walked right up to him and took his face in your hands, "You did not take advantage of me. I welcomed the comfort. If I didn't want to be hugged by you I would have stopped you long before today. You're not the only one with an attraction."

"So you aren't mad at me?" Tenoch asked as he placed his hands over yours.

"No, I thought you were mad at me. I took the ring off to see if you would notice and stop ignoring me," You replied.

"I wanted to give you space incase I did mess up. I was over thinking it." He admitted. A light blush peppered his cheeks and you smiled up at him.

"Silly man, just give me time, not space. I do like you Tenoch, a lot. I want to really try giving us a chance but it's a little too soon for me," You found it hard to make the confession but also a relief.

Tenoch nodded and then pulled you into a hug. You relished the feeling of being in his arms. The tension finally left you both as you melted into the embrace. Tenoch pulled back first, his hands on your waist as he looked down into your eyes. "I know you said you wanted time, and I mean to give you all the time you need, but may I kiss you. Just to tide me over until you're ready,"

You couldn't help but laugh a little at the cute request, before you pulled him down for a fierce kiss. You felt a warmth rush through your body as your lips made contact, Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled you flush against him. It was, hopefully, the first of many future kisses and it set the bar high. When you both finally pulled away, lips swollen, and breathing heavily, you patted his cheek. Extricating yourself from his embrace, you gripped his hands tightly in your own, "I hope that was enough to last you for awhile."

Tenoch smiled down at you and nodded before bringing your hand up to kiss the finger that wore his ring.

...

Tenoch was feeling incredibly wound up. Four months of filming with you and he was fully and undeniably attracted to you. From the way you smiled at him to the way he could always smell your perfume in the makeup trailer in the morning. Everything about you was playing on his mind. But you were also so hard to read.

The problem wasn't that you were closed off or even shy. It was that you treated everyone equally. You knew everyone's name and if you didn't you made a point to ask. You gave out compliments freely, remembered small details, and never forgot anyone's birthday. You greeted everyone with a hug or a kiss unless they said not to. Then you made an effort to find out a comfortable way to greet them that they now fondly accepted.

If he hadn't seen you act with open affection with everyone else he may have believed you returned his attraction. You of course had spent most of your time and scenes with him the last few months as you filmed this movie together. The chemistry you shared translated into your characters and Tenoch found it easy to act out being in love with you. You were affectionate with him and seemed to enjoy his company.

So far you had only filmed a couple brief kissing scenes. While you kept it light hearted and comfortable between takes, Tenoch was fighting his urge to kiss you longer, rougher, and more passionately each time.

The way you would look at him while you filmed a scene could make anyone fall in love. The trust, the adoration, and the lust were palpable. But the minute the director yelled 'cut' your eyes would shift back to an unreadable pleasantness that drove the actor insane. Even when the two of you, or even with a group, went out after a day of shooting he could not tell if you favored him at all.

The rehearsals leading up to the sex scene had been comfortable and playful between the two of you. Neither of you were embarrassed about nudity and you approached the whole situation with logic and communication. When Tenoch told you that he tended to run with the feelings of the scene rather than to choreograph every movement, you simply nodded and said you could adjust.

"So you wouldn't mind if it got more explicit? Like I put my mouth on your nipples while you say your lines about how we shouldn't continue?" Tenoch asked, teasingly.

You just smiled serenely, "That would actually fit your character, getting distracted from the risk because he finally gets to give into the mutual attraction."

Tenoch almost scoffed at how easily you had redirected, "He would want to go down on her. I'll have to get close depending on the angle."

"That's what the modesty tape is for. I'll definitely be pulling at your hair and scratching you but I'll try not to be too rough," You said as you laid back onto the bed on set. You were both dressed and there were crew milling about as they prepped for the shoot tomorrow. The intimacy coordinator had left awhile ago and the two of you had been discussing the shoot the next day in the bed it would take place in.

While major parts of the scene were choreographed, like when the bed would get involved, when clothes would come off, and what positions would ultimately be used, the rest was up to them. Tenoch was more experienced in these things, "Pull as hard as you want, and leave marks on my back if you like too. I think it will do wonders for the scene."

He was laying on his side with his head propped on his hand looking at you. Tenoch was admiring your profile as you reminded him that he was filming a pool scene in a couple days so you couldn't actually leave marks.

Tenoch scoffed, flipping onto his back so you both were staring up into the ceiling, shoulders touching, "Aye, that's what makeup artists are for. We should leave big read hickeys on each other and see whose make up artist does the best at covering it up."

You laughed lightly then it was your turn to turn to your side, prop your head up and admire his profile. You ran a finger down his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and then over his lip. He playfully nipped at your finger before you took a hold of his chin and made him look at you. "You're always so silly."

"And you're always so serious," He replied smoothly. Tenoch tried not to get lost in your eyes as you stared at him. The air shifted and the tension between you rose to a peak again. He did not want to think about how kissable you looked at the moment, "If we are going to be serious then we can. I don't think I have to remind you that if you ever feel uncomfortable or that the scene isn't going the way it should, then please stop me. We can always do another take. If you need a break or even just a moment to breathe, take it. I know that these kind of scenes can be taxing to shoot."

His sincerity touched you. You knew behind the suggestive jokes and the flirtatious attitude that Tenoch cared about your wellbeing and safety, "I know Tenoch. I trust you. I think it will turn out perfectly."

Tenoch was taken by surprise when you leaned over and kissed his cheek. You were sitting up before he could react. "Goodnight, Tenoch. I'll see you tomorrow. And for the record, no hickeys."

He watched you leave, putting a hand to his cheek and rubbed the spot where your lips had been. Tenoch sighed, you were really getting under his skin.

~~~

The next day, the shoot started bright and early at the studio. Not very sexy but with all the cameras, you didn't expect it to be. Hair and makeup were minimal and once all the physical prep was worked out it was time to start. You both naturally fell into your characters.

"You keep talking down to me knowing damn well I can leave you shaking and whimpering under me if you gave me the chance," Tenoch was speaking his line softly, you were only millimeters apart and you could feel his breath against your lips. The way he looked at you shook you to your core.

He grabbed your chin, "Do you want to give me that chance now? I have a feeling you like being put in your place."

The way he purred that last line set off something inside you and you tried not to be embarrassed or self conscious about feeling yourself getting aroused. You had been doing so well being professional with him, still your close and affectionate self but with a boundary. The kissing scenes were always a struggle for you, trying not to sink to deeply into the need and want for the man. This scene now would be your biggest hurdle to keeping your attraction a secret.

You met his gaze, "We shouldn't do this here."

You put a hand against his chest and pushed him back. He only moved slightly. His hand covered yours on his chest. You watched him as he looked you in the eye and took your hand, placing it on his crotch. He took your chin and again got close enough to you that it was nearly a kiss, "Don't pretend you don't get wetter at the thought of someone finding you on your knees for me. Or better yet pinned to their bed while I fuck you."

Then his lips were on yours and you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands roughly found the hem of your shirt and pushed it up to expose your bra clad breasts. As Tenoch found your neck, his hand pushed underneath your bra to palm your breast. You threw your head back and moaned a moan that wasn't acting.

You felt Tenoch pause for a moment then he pulled you in for another kiss that was only broken as he pulled his shirt over his head and yours followed. His hand found the back of your neck as his lips found you own again. With his other hand he tried to unhook your bra. His kissing faltered and then he let out a giggle against your lips. You opened your eyes as Tenoch pulled away. He was breathing heavily but had a goofy smile on his face.

"What?" You whispered, embarrassed at how breathy you sounded.

"I think your bra is stuck," Tenoch said loud enough for the crew to hear. The director yelled cut.

"It's alright Tenoch, Y/N that was nearly the end of that part anyway. Let's figure out why the bra is stuck and then we can reshoot that part from the other angles," The director turned to the crew to reset for the next angle.

Tenoch was a little red faced as he guided you to turn around. You felt yourself grow shy as the intimacy coordinator brought a towel over to give you some privacy as Tenoch figured out why your bra was stick.

"Ah, I got it. I'll put it back. There was a little extra loop and one of the hooks got caught. It should be okay for the next take," Tenoch said as he smoothed your bra back down and went to find the shirt he had tossed.

"That felt good I think," You tried to start an innocent conversation. You were sure that you looked a little flustered and hopefully not as needy as you felt. You took a look at all the crew and the cameras and tried to make yourself feel a little more embarrassed hoping it would but a damper on your arousal.

Tenoch now had his shirt back on, "Yea I liked when you pushed me away. That felt like a challenge. Was the boob grab too much?"

"No, no it was great, um fine. Yea it was fine. Now let's do it 4 more times," You tried to joke again. Tenoch was grinning at you and reminded you that you still hadn't put your shirt back on.

It was only 3 more takes of the lead up sequence and then it was time for the bed. There wasn't much dialogue during the journey between the wall and the bed, but there was a bit of coordination needed over when clothes would come off. Eventually you and Tenoch were laying on the bed naked except for the blanket you both were laying under for modesty, while the crew reset.

"How are you feeling?" Tenoch asked, turning on his side to look at you. You were unfortunately very aware that the modesty bandage between your legs was having trouble staying in place due to the moisture collecting there.

Your mind flashbacked to the last couple hours. The countless kisses, the skin on skin contact, the moans you released that weren't as much acting as you wanted them to be. You were annoyed with how flustered you were getting while it seemed like Tenoch was doing just fine.

"Hello, Y/N? Que pasa?" Tenoch asked as he waved his hand in front of your face.

You shook yourself out of your reverie, "U-um I'm fine, I just need to go to the bathroom."

You scooted to the edge of the bed and one of the assistants wrapped a robe around you and helped you to the bathrooms. The intimacy coordinator knocked on your dressing room door to find you sitting on the couch with your head in your hands. She rushed to your side, "Y/N, what's wrong? Is it too much? We can tell them to cut the shoot short today or we can change the scene?"

You let out a long groan, "It's nothing like that."

"Tell me how I can help you," She took a seat next to you and patted your back lightly, "What's bothering you?"

You looked at the compassionate face of the other woman, "You won't laugh?"

"Not unless it's really funny," She teased, you made a face but she reassured you, "I promise I won't laugh. Even if it's funny."

You hesitated then turned to your side and showed her the crumpled modesty bandage, "I-I got too wet."

"Oh honey, that's totally normal," She said taking the bandage and throwing it in the trash next to her, "You're a woman being very intimate with an attractive man. I was surprised you lasted that long. We have a ton more where that came from so we can bandage you up as many times as you need."

You felt your cheeks heat up and patted them to try to cool yourself, "It's embarrassing. I'm trying to be professional but it's just overwhelming."

The older woman rubbed a comforting hand up and down your arm, "Don't be embarrassed. Just between you and me, Tenoch asked us to keep his socks in the cooler so whenever he had to get tucked again it would make him soft."

Your eyes widened and you couldn't help the amusement showing on your face, "Really?"

"You're both very attractive people with blazing chemistry. It's an extensive scene and the director is pretty specific with how many angles he wants. You've been going at it for hours. I'd be worried if he didn't need a little help to stay decent. The way he kisses you seems a bit more desperate than necessary. Lucky girl." Her voice was soothing and you felt better about your biological reaction. But now you were thinking about Tenoch getting hard from kissing and touching you. "Come, Y/N, we will get you bandaged up again and then we can finish up the shoot.

~~~

Tenoch was left in the bed by himself as you went to handle your business. He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the hard on that was raging while strapped to his leg with a sock and bandage. He hoped you hadn't felt him during the last couple takes. The actor was at his wits end after spending hours essentially doing foreplay and hearing your moans.

Whenever the cameras were cut you reverted back to yourself so quickly that Tenoch almost felt a little insulted. But he had noticed the darkening of your eyes and the swift rubbing of your legs together when you thought he wasn't looking. He was finally having some effect on you. There was only one scene left and he was actually looking forward to the exquisite torture to come to an end. At least in his hotel room alone he would be able to relieve himself.

"Hey, can we change the sock?" Tenoch asked one of the assistants who hurried over to a cooler and handed him the necessities. The actor took care of the switch under the sheets, not caring that the crew was walking around. The coldness of the sock slipping on made him hiss but his erection finally died down again.

"You ready?" You asked him, having made it back to your side of the bed.

"Always, hermosa," Tenoch replied with a grin. He watched as you took your robe off and slid back into bed with him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

When you looked at him he saw a flash of amusement. He watched as your eyes roamed his naked shoulders and chest, landed on his lap then shot straight back up to meet his eyes, "Never better, handsome."

The director called for places as they started the next take. Tenoch pushed the sheet down as he got on top of you. His hand found your breast as he slotted himself between your legs. The way you were look at him from the bed was different now, there was affection and lust. You seemed to have slipped into character quickly. The director yelled action and after a moment Tenoch whispered his last line before he captured your lips in a kiss.

You grasped at his hair and gripped his back as he kissed his way down your neck and pulled a nipple in his mouth. His other hand massaged your other tit as he hiked one of your legs up around his waist. You both pantomimed the moment when he would have slid inside of you. Together you acted out the act, groping, kissing, and making filthy noises. Tenoch had to start thinking of all the cameras because he could feel himself getting hard again. You acted out the scene until you finished your character's love making and then collapsed into bed and each others arms.

The director called for a cut and then reset. Agonizingly you both went through the motions again from different angles just like the other takes for the other parts. By the time you finished, both of you were a little hoarse and sweaty. Neither of you could look each other in the eye. You were both led to your dressing rooms to clean up and decompress. A final talk with the intimacy coordinators about how you both felt it went was the bookend to the long day.

The both of you exited your dressing rooms at the same time. You greeted Tenoch like usual, trying hard to forget how wet the last few modesty bandages had been and remembering you were coworkers. "Good job today. It was fun acting with you as always, as awkward as sex scenes can be I'm happy I did it with you. Thanks for taking care of me and being so attentive."

"Yeah, good job too. I think it will look great," Tenoch replied, distracted by the immediacy of his hard on at the sight of you even fully clothed. "Heading back to the hotel?"

"Yeap, I am beat," You replied nonchalantly as he headed down the hallway. Tenoch followed you, trying not to draw attention to the bulge in his pants.

"I already called an uber. Just ride with me," Tenoch said as he hurried to catch up.

The short ride was easy and companionable. The both of you did your hardest to appear unaffected by the proximity after the day you had had together. But Tenoch was covering his crotch subtly with his folded hands and you were trying not to think about how wet your panties were.

You parted ways when the elevator dropped you off at your floor, and agreed to get breakfast together before the shoot the next day. Tenoch watched you longingly as the elevator doors closed. He turned and smushed his forehead against the cold polished mirror of the elevator. He felt like he had been edging for hours and release was finally in sight.

When he entered his hotel room, he went straight to the tequila on his counter and poured himself a shot. He needed to relax. The actor palmed his crotch as he took of his shoes and pulled off his shirt. He was dying to jack off but held off to wash up before bed. The actor knew that once he got relief he would probably fall asleep for the night.

As he finished his nightly ablutions there was a knock at his door. He looked at the clock and it was close to nine. There shouldn't have been any maids or anything roaming around. When he opened the door he was surprised to find you standing there, barefoot, and out of breath.

~~~

A part of you hoped he wouldn't open the door; that he had fallen asleep as his head hit the pillow. But he did and stood there shirtless in low slung jeans, slightly damp hair, and a bulge in his pants.

"Can I come in?" You asked as you pushed past him.

"I guess. What's up?" He asked as he shut the door. You had walked into the room only a few steps and turned. You were only a couple feet away from him and already you were dying to touch him.

"I, um, I just wanted to ask you something," You stuttered out, wringing your hands together. You were conflicted, worried that you were just imagining the attraction.

"Was it so important that you forgot to put shoes on?" You followed his gaze to your feet, surprised to see the bare. "Now who is the one being silly."

The genuine smile on his face was your undoing. You crossed the short distance and pulled his lips down for a kiss. He hesitated for a moment then returned it with the same passion. You pushed him back against the door as he pulled you flush against him.

Your hands found his jeans and started to undo them. Soon your hand was shoved in his briefs palming his already hard cock. He moaned into your mouth as you thumbed his tip. You pulled at his lip with your teeth as you knelt before him. Neither of you spoke, not wanting to interrupt this explosion of attraction, this culmination of a day of denied lust.

You pulled his pants all the way down. Tenoch stepped out of them while keeping his eyes on you, as if you would disappear if he looked away. Your hand circled his cock, pumping it lightly before you took his tip into your mouth. He tasted clean and his skin was smooth. You felt his hand gently guide your head to start taking him in and then out.

Tenoch was already moaning, not believing but thoroughly enjoying what was happening. Your lips around his cock, the way you looked up at him as you palmed his balls were making it difficult for him not to thrust into your throat. You relished the look of pleasure on his face as you blew him. You had felt his hard on a couple times today but you were still pleasantly surprised at his size, especially his girth.

There was drool dripping off your lip when he finally pulled you off his cock, stopping himself from cumming. "Get up."

You followed his command and he pushed you up against the door, back arched, and with your legs spread apart. He pulled off the pajamas you were wearing, frustrated that they were in the way of him touching you. Tenoch kissed and nipped at your neck and shoulders from behind, running his hands up your front to cup and pinch your breasts.

Your breaths were coming in quick succession as the sensations overwhelmed you. The actor kissed his way down your body as his hand found the apex of your thighs and started to touch your wet pussy. You mewled at the sudden contact, aware that you were a wet mess for him. On his part, Tenoch let out a masculine grown, "God, tell me you've been wet for me like this all day."

"You have no idea how many times I had to change the modesty bandage. I'm convinced you made me cum without touching my pussy." The words would have embarrassed you if you weren't so overcome with need.

You felt Tenoch smile into your back as he got on his knees behind you. He affectionately nipped at your ass cheek and then lightly slapped the other. The actor palmed your cheeks, spread them and enthusiastically began eating your ass. The sensation surprised you but wasn't unpleasant. His tongue teased at your tight hole, setting off nerves you'd never felt before. Tenoch licked and sucked at your ass with enthusiasm, pulling moans from you that you had never heard before.

"Delicioso," He whispered against your ass as his hand came back around to rub your clit and tease your pussy.

You could feel your legs shaking as his tongue found your pussy. He lapped at your wetness hungrily. "Tenoch, please, I need you."

Your plea was all he needed. He stood and turned you around for a body melting kiss. He led you deeper into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Tenderly, he kissed your tummy then pulled you to him to suck lightly on your nipples. The actor's hand teased you between your legs for a moment longer before he lightly pushed you onto the bed.

With his strong arms he pulled you by your legs to the edge of the bed. Your chest was pushed into the covers, your back arched, with your ass in the air. His hands caressed your back affectionately, reaching between your cheeks to thrust two fingers into your waiting pussy. You gripped at the sheets, loving the feeling of having something of his inside you. The hours with him touching you and on top of you early had made you impatient.

"The sounds you make, mujer, they make me wanna bury myself inside your sweet pussy," Tenoch said this as he continued to finger you. Your wetness covering his hand and dripping down your spread thighs. The sounds that filled the room were obscene, so telling of how much you wanted him. You came with a loud and long moan, squirting as he furiously thrust his fingers into you.

You could have wept from the pleasure of release but he did not give you a moment before his fingers left you to be replaced by his large cock pushing into your waiting pussy. Even after cumming you felt him stretching you slightly. The guttural moan that left you was muffled as Tenoch thrust his hips, pushing you into the bed,

The pace he set was brutal and told of the need he had been suppressing for hours. Impulsively he pushed his thumb firmly into your asshole and the feeling of fullness intensified. Your hands gripped the sheets desperately as he pounded into you. You were nearly delirious with pleasure as Tenoch bent over you, playfully biting at your shoulder.

"Earlier today, I wanted to fuck you in front of everyone. I wanted to show them how I could make you cum. How much pleasure I could bring you while they filmed it. I wanted to fill you with my cum and have you walk around with it dripping down your legs," His voice was rough as he painted the picture of your ravishment. Tenoch slowed then turned you over. He pushed you further up the bed, held your thighs and plunged back inside of you making you scream out in pleasure.

"I want you to cum on my cock this time, hermosa. I want to feel your walls tighten around me as you moan my name. I want you to look me in the eyes while you see god as I bring you the most pleasure you've ever felt," His words were punctuated by the snap of his hips. You were nearing another peak. When his thumb found your clit and circled it you were undone. You yelled his name as you came with jolting movements. But Tenoch held you down and continued to thrust into you.

The overstimulation sent you over into a less intense orgasm but it still had you seeing stars. His lips found yours just as you felt his hips stuttering. He groaned against your mouth as his seed spilled deep inside of you. Tenoch continued to kiss you softly, running his hands and fingertips along your torso and arms, your cheek and neck. He whispered against your skin, "Are you alright? Was I too rough?"

His gentle tone was unexpected after the words he had spoken earlier, but you still whispered against his lips, "I'm ok. I'm perfect. You're perfect."

You continued to share languid kisses until your panting died down. When Tenoch finally pulled out of you, you both moaned at the sensation. His cum dripped out of you and he carried you into the bathroom so you could clean up properly. He continued to kiss your temple, neck, shoulder, cheek whenever he had a chance. Like he still hadn't been able to touch you enough after all that you had done together.

Your eyes met in the mirror and you looked away shyly. You felt him set his chin on your shoulder, "Will you stay with me tonight? Or do I have to watch that sexy ass leave my room?"

You glanced up, meeting his eyes in the mirror again, "You want me to stay?"

The grin that crossed his face made your heart flutter. He kissed your cheek, "I'm far from done with you, mujer."

His hands found your hips and he gently pulled your naked body up against his front. You could already feel him getting aroused again. You pulled away and took his hand, leading the way back out of the bathroom, "Come to bed, Tenoch. I'm not done with you either."

...

DAMN BOI

I'm gonna take a nap now. That was a lot....hehe

Salt air, and the rust on your door  I never needed anything more 

The summer heat was stifling, but you were determined to meet Namor on the beach when he finally made it back from Talokan, and the sun had almost set, so the heat wouldn’t be an issue for much longer. He’d been gone for three long days, and you were beginning to grow a little anxious. Since you’d met him, the time between seeing him was never longer than a day or two. When he hadn’t returned last night, you’d opened your bedroom window and listened to the sound of the sea for hours until finally drifting off into a restless sleep. When you awoke, and he still hadn’t come back, the worry began gnawing at your gut. 

You weren’t entirely sure why Namor continued to come back to you, time and time again. It was a thought that was easily forgotten when Namor was around, but during the short stretches of his absence, you couldn’t stop yourself from mulling it over. Namor was a god, a warrior that was centuries older than you, and yet, he seemed completely enamored with you. 

His “little love”, he called you, a nickname that never failed to make you blush. When you really thought about it, the pace at which you’d fallen for each other was incredibly fast. It was a lightning storm out at sea, a muscle car going 90 down the pacific coast highway, the tumble of the waves meeting the sand on a stormy night. It was a warmth that many people didn’t know existed. You’d never cared about anyone as deeply as you care for Namor, and you tried not to think about that, because it was a terrifying thought. 

You never let yourself consider what would happen when you continued to age while Namor didn’t. Namor never brought it up either, and for that you were grateful. The thought left a melancholy note in your body, and you wanted to enjoy the time you were getting to spend with Namor now, even if later wasn’t guaranteed. 

The sun hung low in the sky, on the cusp of fading into the night, and you were worried you might be gnawing a hole in your cheek when you finally spotted Namor in the water. You breathed a sigh of relief, but the nervous ache in your chest didn’t disappear. What if he was only coming to say goodbye to you? 

“I am sorry it took me so long, in yakunaj. I got here as fast as I could.” He buried you in a hug, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. “I missed you, little love.” 

“I missed you too.” You nuzzled into his chest. “Do you want to come inside?”  

You tilted your head up at him, blinking in awe at his beauty. You would never get tired of seeing him like this. You were almost completely sure no one in the world got to experience the warm, cuddly side of Namor besides you. The way he described his people gave you the sense that “warm and cuddly” wasn’t really what they were going for as warriors, but you didn’t care. Namor never brought violence home to you, and in turn, you always appreciated his kindness a little extra. 

“Lead the way, in yakunaj.”  

Whispers of "Are you sure?"  "Never have I ever before" 

As soon as Namor shut the door, he was on you. His lips captured yours in a heated kiss, pulling your body against his in one swift movement. One hand traveled along the curve of your waist while the other had a firm grip on your jaw, and the sparks traveling through your veins reminded you of the first time Namor had ever kissed you like this. 

Crisp memories flashed through your mind. Namor’s gentle caress along your spine. His fingers lightly treading the waistband of your shorts. The way he’d carefully laid you down, kissing every inch of you with soft lips. In the centuries since he’d been born, the act of sex had become a detatched act of primal urge. He never cared about the people he was burying himself inside of, not really. But then he met you, and suddenly the world had shifted.  

“You make me feel alive, for the first time in 500 years.”  

He had whispered this into your skin, resting his head on your chest as the weight of his words sank in. You had gently cradled his head in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before slowly pulling your shirt over your head.  

Your first time with Namor was nothing short of magical. You should’ve probably expected it, considering how much more time he’d had to perfect his craft than other men, but you suspected that the love exchanged between you also had an impact. The morning after, Namor had revealed to you that he’d never experienced love, but that he was pretty sure it’s what he felt for you. You’d melted into his hold, and he made love to you again, whispering confessions of love into your skin. 

Namor lifted you in the air and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling you back into the present. His desire was achingly hard against your clothed core, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as you shifted against him. He walked the two of you into your bedroom, and softly closed the door behind him. This was the usual routine after he returned from Talokan, and the love between the two of you seemed to grow every time you reunited. 

Your back beneath the sun  Wishin' I could write my name on it  Will you call when you're back at school?  I remember thinkin' I had you 

Later, after you had spent hours kissing gentle reminders of how much you missed one another into each other’s skin, you were cuddled into Namor’s side, resting your head on his chest in a sleepy haze.  

“Why did it take you so long to come back?” You prodded, out of curiosity, but also out of nervousness.  

Namor sighed, pulling you tighter against his side. “My people have noticed that I spend more time here than at home. Namora is concerned.”  

You stiffened against him. You knew Namor hadn’t revealed to anyone in Talokan exactly what he’d been doing on the surface, but he had never spoken so openly about the toll it was taking on him.  

“Do not worry, in yakunaj. It is a peaceful time for my people.” 

“What if it wasn’t peaceful?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Then I would be with my people, fighting alongside them. I have a duty to protect them, in yakunaj. But I would think of you every second, until we met again.” 

You sighed, but you understood. He was theirs long before he was yours, and you couldn’t expect him to give up 500 years of history for you.  

“I wish I could see it. Talokan sounds lovely.” You mumbled into his chest, kissing one of the faint scars that hid along the line of his collarbone. He tightened his hold on you – a small token of appreciation in response to your love for his home.  

“I know, princesa. There is nothing I want more than that.” 

You wanted to ask him how long he was planning on keeping this hidden love affair going, how long he planned on lying to his closest friends and family about his feelings for a surface dweller, but you stayed quiet. That was not something you wanted to know the answer to. At least not now. The thought of your late nights together on the beach and the hours spent wrapped in bed sheets by each other’s side coming to an end was too painful to think about.  

For now, you were fine with living in blissful ignorance. Eventually, you knew it would have to come to an end, but what you couldn’t bear to think about was how agonizingly lonely you would be without Namor in your life.  

Instead of saying any of this, you lightly kissed his cheek, and drifted off to sleep against his chest, blissfully unaware of the war waging inside of Namor’s head at the exact same moment. 

But I can see us lost in the memory  August slipped away into a moment in time  'Cause it was never mine  So much for summer love and saying "us"  'Cause you weren't mine to lose  You weren't mine to lose, no 

The summer months passed by in an idyllic haze. It was easy to lose yourself in Namor when he was around. Hours would pass like minutes, shaded in the warm glow of summer.  

Namor’s visits were less frequent, excused with the wave of his hand, as if to say, “I had to take care of something, but don’t worry about it.” You tried not to mind the absences, though. When Namor was with you, his attention was always fully on you. The nights he spent with you were always as passionate as the first night, and he’d hold you until he absolutely had to return to Talokan.  

You didn’t question him, though you were curious about what he was so busy doing when he was at home. He was a King, you supposed. He probably had a lot of things going on. All of this justification didn’t help soothe the sting when his absences began to stretch into 3-4 days at a time. Perhaps he was finally realizing what you’d known all along. He was a God, and you were a human, and it wouldn’t work for much longer. 

You mulled this over as you tried to read on the beach one evening. The sun was going to set soon, and it had officially been five days since Namor had visited you. You read the same paragraph three times before finally throwing the book down beside you. Distracting yourself with a book wasn’t working. Your thoughts always trailed back to Namor, and they probably always would. 

You watched the sun set, waiting and waiting for the familiar tremor in the water that indicated Namor’s arrival. The tremor never came, and after two hours of sitting in miserable silence, you trudged back towards your house. He wasn’t coming, and even though you should probably have expected this eventually, you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up.  

Two more days passed before you saw Namor again, and the weary look on his face when you met him in knee-deep water sent a wave of turmoil into your gut. This was it, the moment you’d been dreading since you realized how incredibly hard you’d fallen for him, and you weren’t prepared in the slightest for the wave of emotion that followed this realization. 

Familiar tears stained your cheeks, and the overwhelming sense that you couldn’t breathe overtook your ability to look at him. Namor cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look into his eyes.  

“In yakunaj, what is it? Why are you crying?”  

You latched onto his wrists, failing to stop the tears from flowing down your face. “Please just say it, Namor. I can’t take the distance you’re forcing between us anymore. I can handle it.”  

“Princesa, what are you talking about? Say what?” Namor’s face morphed into concern as he looked over your features. Your eyes were puffy, stained red from crying, and you looked exhausted.  

“That you can’t love me anymore. That you have to go back to Talokan, and that I can’t come, and that I have to move on from you.”  

Namor studied your face for a moment. Understanding dawned on his face as he realized how affected you were by his unexplained absences. He wiped the tears from under your eyes and shook his head. 

“Is that what you think? That I don’t love you anymore?”  

You tried to look away from him, but his firm grip wouldn’t allow it. You closed your eyes instead, trying to calm the heartbreak crashing through you.  

“Why else have you been pulling away from me?” 

“My sweet little love,” Namor cooed, kissing the tip of your nose, “I will always love you. I am sorry for being so distant lately, but I was trying to surprise you.”  

You opened your eyes, confusion evident on your face.  

“Surprise me with what?” You asked. 

Namor smiled, glancing over his shoulder towards the water.  

“We have found a way to bring you to Talokan.” 

You inhaled sharply, following his gaze towards what you could only assume was the route to Talokan.  

“What do you mean?” Your voice was a breathy whisper.  

“I mean, there is a way for me to bring you home with me.”  

Excitement bubbled in your chest, but it was quickly extinguished when you remembered that even if you could get to Talokan, time would remain an enemy. Namor was still a God, and you were still a mortal, after all. 

“Namor,” you shook your head, “It won’t work. I will still die of old age, and then you will be alone again.” 

Namor began shaking his head in response before you could finish your sentence.  

“You misunderstand me, princesa. We have found a way for you to stay in Talokan. You would be one of us. That’s what I’ve been working on while I’ve been gone. We could be together forever, if that’s what you want.” He paused, looking over your shoulder at your house. “You will have to say goodbye to the surface, though. It will be visitable, of course, but your home would be in Talokan, with our people.”  

“Our people?” You felt like a mimicking parrot, but his proposal had overwhelmed you, and that was the only thing you could muster in response.  

Namor chuckled, kissing both of your cheeks, one after the other. “They are very excited to meet their soon-to-be Queen, in yakunaj.”  

“You told them about me?” You murmured, in awe of his ability to render you almost speechless again.  

“I did. They are glad to see me happy.” 

You glanced between your home and the water, mulling over everything he’d told you.  

“I know I am asking a lot of you. You do not have to give me an answer now, in yakunaj. You can think abo-” 

You cut him off with a searing kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your body against his.  

“Take me home, Namor.” You murmured against his lips. 

The smile on his face shined so bright that you couldn’t imagine ever saying no to him, if that’s what his response was when he was happy. 

For the hope of it all  (For the hope of it all) 

You looked back towards your house for the final time. Leaving it behind was something you’d never thought you’d do, but you didn’t think you’d miss it – not when an entire city awaited your arrival.  

Namor had explained the transition process to you as best he could. A lot of it sounded like scientific gibberish, but the parts that you picked up included drinking a blue nectar that had been mixed with his blood, which would ensure that you could breathe both under water and above it. It would also extend your lifetime by centuries, if not longer. According to Namor, people all over Talokan were celebrating your arrival already.  

Namor wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.  

“Are you sure you want to say goodbye to this life, little love?”  

You smiled and leaned backwards against his chest.  

“Let’s start our life together, in yakunaj.” His language felt foreign on your tongue, but you had heard him call you by that name so many times that you were sure you had pronounced it correctly. 

Namor let out a loud laugh, kissing your shoulder and squeezing you tighter against him in response.  

“I think I could get used to hearing you speak my language, princesa.”  

“We’ll have a hundred lifetimes together. Will you teach me more?”  

“I will do anything you ask of me, princesa.” 

“Forever?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  

He grinned, nodding. “Forever.”  

Tag List:

Namor was being watched, though he didn’t know it yet. As he stood on the outskirts of his mother’s homeland, holding his mother’s body in his arms, the beauty of her memories was tarnished, ripped to shreds by slavers with whips and hatred in their hearts. Namor was a boy of ten and two, barely old enough to grasp the responsibilities he’d inherited in his birth, but strong enough already to understand the gravity of the situation in front of him.  

The hatred that burned in his heart mirrored the flames he’d set to his mother’s homelands, his homeland, which had become a falsity so grand that he could no longer contain the rage within him. It was a wound that wouldn’t heal, a festering cesspool of a memory that would play in his mind for years afterwards. This day would go down in his people’s history as the day the boy-king became a man. 

From a young age, laying his mother to rest was something Namor knew he was going to have to do, but no amount of time could have prepared him for the overwhelming heartbreak he felt as he laid her down in her final resting place. He remained by her side, content to sit with her body for as long as he pleased, but he knew he would eventually have to return to Talokan.  

All the while, an unfamiliar set of eyes peeked at him through the brush. You would not reveal yourself to him, not quite yet. This moment, as important as it was to Namor’s moral compass and the man he would grow to be, was not a moment you felt the need to share with him. You had travelled through time and space to be here, at present-day Namor’s request, and you would not interfere with this moment.  

The young Namor, the one that was blissfully unaware of your presence, knelt down and whispered his last goodbyes to the woman who raised him. You remained in your kneeling position amongst the greenery, unwilling to move until you were sure Namor had gone. When the last of his people returned to the sea, you stood, shaking the ache from your knees.  

You tapped into your power, the warm hum traveling through your body as you focused on returning to the present, to your home where Namor was likely waiting for you. It was only a snap of your fingers, a quick blink of your eyes, and suddenly you were in familiar territory again.  

The walls around you were filled to the brim with Namor’s art, painted over the centuries. They told the story of him, showcasing different memories that he deemed important. The first one, the one you’d just returned from visiting, was a small painting of his mother, lying in her shallow grave.  

“How was it, my love?” Namor’s voice carried from the above water chambers you shared, his voice so warm and deep that he might as well have been standing right next to you.  

You peeked your head around the corner, spying his relaxed form in his favorite armchair. You had spent hours there, wrapped in his warm embrace. It was your favorite place to be, too.  

You scurried forward, eager to take your designated spot in his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his protective hold. You looked down at him, placing a soft kiss on his brow before cupping his cheeks.  

“It was informative, my King. I can see why you were so angry when we met.” You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs in an attempt to soothe the ache.  

“I spent many years after that day consumed with vengeance. It was only when I met you that I learned I still had the capacity to love.”  

“I’m sorry, my love, for the hurt humans have caused your people throughout the years.” You winced at the thought of Namor consumed by anything but love. 

“Don’t apologize, in yakunaj. You will see the man I became to protect my people, and you will see me as my enemies saw me. I did not know mercy for a very long time, and I fear you will not like the man I thought I had to be.” 

“I will always love you, K’uk’ulkan. Nothing,” you gripped his jaw for emphasis, “will ever change that.”  

Namor gripped your hand, pressing his lips into your knuckles. “I am undeserving of it, but I will accept it anyways, pixan. I am greedy like that.”  

He smiled, and your heart warmed at the sight. At one point, it had been decades since a smile had graced his beautiful face, so you always cherished the smiles he sent you, even if you got to see it all the time now. 

“Where am I going next?” You asked, glancing at the wall of art.  

“To our favorite place to hide away, before it was ours.” He nodded to a small, somewhat hidden section of the wall that had always been one of your favorites. You grinned in response. 

- 

Namor looked over the landscape in front of him, a little envious of the humans that got to see it every day. The view his hiding spot offered was a spectacular array of gold and red, surrounded by lakes and rivers, and if he didn’t have a million things waiting for him back at home, he might want to appreciate it more. The sea was his home, but he couldn’t help the desire to explore the surface every once in a while.  

Home. The empire he had built with his bare hands. Hidden from the world, protected from human interference. Namor was proud of his people and what they had achieved, but he had spent so many years fueled by anger that he feared he may have forgotten the beauty of living along the way. He was lonely, and he could not let this weakness lead his people into their graves. This hiding place was a respite from all of that, but the loneliness tended to follow him here.  

A sharp buzzing interrupted his thoughts, and he swung around, ready to defend himself. A being, no – a woman, stepped into the clearing. Namor studied her. A human? No. He could feel the power drumming in her veins, and he tried to make sense of her human-looking face. A threat? Maybe.  

You raised your hands in an innocent gesture. “I’m not here to hurt you.” 

Namor couldn’t stop the chuckle from leaving his throat. No one, no one, could hurt him.  

“Who are you?” He pointed his spear at your heart, ready to drive it deep in your chest at the slightest movement.  

You murmured your name. “We’ve met before.” 

“I think I would remember meeting you.” His brow furrowed. 

“Not yet, I mean. It won’t happen for another few centuries.” 

Namor’s confusion grew, and you reached towards your sleeve, rolling it up a few inches. The bracelet Namor had given you was tied around your wrist, and you held it up for his inspection. He balked. That was his mother’s bracelet, and he knew for a fact that it was tucked away in a safe space, miles under the sea.  

“You gave it to me a few years ago. You sent me here, K’uk’ulkan, many years in the future. It’s hard to explain.” You scratched the back of your neck. “The paintings on your cavern walls tell a story, and he, you, wanted me to experience them with him, er, you. Is this making any sense?”  

Namor eyed you carefully but lowered his spear.  

“I feel your power, deep in here,” he gestured to his chest, “but I do not understand it. It’s different from mine.”  

You smiled and lifted your hand, allowing a tiny sliver of your power to form into a ball in your palm. A stark yellow lit the clearing. The orb pulsed with power, and Namor took a step forward. Present-day Namor was also enamored with the way your power manifested and loved watching you create different shapes with it in your palm.  

Namor stepped closer, watching the orb float in the space above your hand.  

“How?” He asked, flicking his gaze up at you.  

“You will understand it, one day, in yakunaj.” You fell into your natural pattern with him, even though the man standing in front of you was centuries away from the man you knew and loved.  

Namor startled at your ability to speak his language so easily, and then inhaled sharply when he realized what you had just called him. He knew he should’ve been hightailing it home by now. This display of power could mean trouble for his people, and it was his duty to protect them, but the gentle caress of your power in his chest rooted him to the spot. His curiosity always did get the best of him.  

“You speak my language?” He asked in his mother tongue, too enthralled with you to worry about the rules he was breaking by doing so.  

You nodded, watching as the power faded back into your hand. “I know many languages.” 

“We are...together in your time?” He asked, looking over you again.  

“Yes. We are bonded, though that probably doesn’t mean anything to you right now. It will, one day.” You paused. “I must return to my time.” You gestured towards the forest, even though you didn’t technically have to move your body anywhere to jump forward in time.  

“Will I see you again? Before we officially meet?” He asked, taking a step closer to you.  

“Would you like to see me again?” You returned, tilting your head curiously.  

“Yes.” Namor said bluntly.  

“Then you will see me again, in yakunaj.” 

In a flash, you were gone, and Namor spent a long moment staring at the spot you had been standing in moments before. He wondered how long he would have to wait to see you again and hoped it wouldn’t be too long of a wait. 

- 

Namor waited decades for you, searching for you in every face he came across. His cousin and closest confidante, Namora, didn’t miss the excitement buzzing under his skin every time he had to leave for the surface. He finally told her of your existence after years of holding the secret close to his heart. She was cautious, warning him of the surface dweller’s wrongdoings, but he couldn’t think of you in the same way that he thought of them. You were different, gentler, and he spent the vast majority of his free time thinking about you.  

The night that you finally reappeared was a night of celebration for his people. It was Winter Solstice – the one night of the year that his people freely travelled between the sea and the sand. It was always a huge party, but he had spent the majority of it stewing in his longing for you. He had almost convinced himself you were a dream of his when you appeared. 

You stood towards the back of the crowd, looking up at the stars. Namor’s heart thundered in his chest as he approached you, unsure of what to say to the person he had spent the last 80 years of his life longing to see. Fortunately, you spoke first, and he wondered if it was possible to fall in love with someone after only meeting them once.  

“There are so many stars here. The doesn't look like this anymore, where I’m from. The surface dwellers have many flaws, and I think that is probably their worst transgression.” 

Namor said the only thing that he could think of in response.  

“I missed you.”  

You smiled bashfully, turning to look at him for the first time in 80 years.  

“I know. Thank you for being patient, in yakunaj. I go where he sends me, and there is always a good reason for it.” 

“Is he...like me? I mean, are we the same, or do you see us as different people?”  

“That is a hard question. You are the same Namor I know, but you are also different. At your core, though, you are the same man that I love in my time.” 

You looked back at the sky, shifting your body to stand next to his. A somber expression formed on your face, and he couldn’t help but brush the back of his hand against yours.  

“What is it, ki'ichpanech?”  

“I want you to enjoy this night, in yakunaj, because you will not have another one this easy for a very long time.” 

A cold chill ran down Namor’s spine. The conviction in which you spoke left little room for denial, and he could not ignore the uneasy feeling building in his stomach.  

“What do you mean?” He finally asked, breathing deeply. 

“I mean,” you paused, linking your pinky in his, “he chose this moment for me to visit for a reason. I cannot tell you details, because even I do not know them, but you will have to face an unimaginable threat, and it will be very hard for you. I will not return until after the carnage, and I want you to enjoy tonight, because you will have a hard time enjoying anything for many years afterwards.” 

He looked out into the sea, processing your warning. He wasn’t aware of any threats to his people, but the pleading look in your eyes told him he would soon face horrors, maybe outright war.  

“How long will it be before I see you again?” He asked, taking your hand in his and lightly squeezing it.  

“Do not worry about such trivial things, in yakunaj. Everything will right itself in time.” 

Your tone left no room for argument, not that Namor would want to argue with you anyways. You tugged him further away from the crowd, turning to face him after the darkness had blanketed you from the light of the party. You rested your palms on his cheeks, pulling his forehead down and pressing it against yours.  

“Be strong, my King. You will be pushed beyond what you believe your strength to be, but do not let that break you. You are a force to be reckoned with, and you will do anything to protect your people. Remember your strength, and above all, remember that there is love in your heart, even if you cannot feel it yet.”  

You pushed your lips against his in a chaste motion. It was over before it had even begun, and when Namor opened his eyes, you were gone. Namor clutched his chest, attempting to remember the feeling of your body against his.  

Your warning rang true a few days later, when the borders of Talokan were breached for the first time in its history. The water surrounding the city remained a misty red for months afterward.  

- 

Namor pushed his spear deeper into the chest of the enemy King, finally ending the slaughter that had plagued him and his people for many years. The jungle around him rang with a silence so sickening that he fell to his knees. He hung his head low, exhausted from the fight. You had been right about everything, and the only thing that had kept him fighting for this moment of triumph was the speech you’d given him all those years ago.  

The guilt of his warrior’s deaths weighed heavily on his shoulders. It didn’t seem fair, that he would continue living after so many of his people had to mourn the loss of their family members. Their family members, who had died fighting his fight. The weight was almost too much to bear, and he was suddenly glad that he was alone.  

His people did not deserve to see his pity-party. He slammed his fists into the ground, letting out a brutish grunt. It was over, but his mind was still reeling. The sound of your soft footsteps brought him out of his rage. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was hoarse as he pleaded with you not to see him like this.  

“I am here, all the same.” You waved your hand in a nonchalant motion, lowering your body into a kneeling position in front of him.  

He couldn’t look at you. The awfulness of what he had done, of the person he had to become to defeat this threat was so far beneath you, and he couldn’t imagine anyone loving the broken man he had become. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, and he squeezed them shut to stop them from falling.  

“You should go.” He pleaded with you, shaking his head at the thought of you being so close to the gory battlefield he had just fought on.  

“I will not leave you, in yakunaj, just as you would not leave me if our positions were switched.”  

You reached forward, gently wrapping your hands around his wrists. The steady drum of your power grounded his thoughts for a moment, and he prayed to the universe that your touch wouldn’t leave him. He didn’t move for what felt like hours, cherishing the warmth in his chest at having you so close to him after so long.  

“I cannot stand being apart from you like this.” He mumbled, head still hung low.  

“It is not for much longer, my King. One day, not so far in the future, we will be together.” 

“How much longer must I live with this torment of longing I feel when you’re gone?” 

You cupped his cheeks, swiping at the dirt and grime that coated his face with your thumbs.  

“Soon, my love. I promise.”  

You walked with him as he made his way back to the sea, the urge within him to return home too strong to deny any longer. There weren’t many words spoken between the two of you, but words didn’t seem necessary. You were here, and you were a gentle reminder that his future was bright, and that’s all that mattered to him at the moment.  

When Namor stepped onto the beach, the bobbing heads of Namora and Attuma a few hundred yards out at sea caught his eye. They would return to Talokan with the news that their King had come out triumphant, and that the war was officially over.  

You watched as their heads dipped below the surface before facing him.  

“I have been gone for too long. I must go.” Namor’s grip on your hands tightened, unwilling to let you go so soon.  

“Stay. Please stay.”  

You smiled warmly, bringing his knuckles to your lips. “I cannot, in yakunaj. I must return to the present. But I will leave you with a gift, so that you don’t forget me while I’m gone.”  

“I could never forget you, ki'ichpanech. Even if you don’t return for 1,000 years, I will still remember you.”  

You smiled, pulling your hands out of his. You cupped your palms together, tapping into your power until the yellow orb appeared, floating between the two of you.  

“Take this with you. It will shine brightly in Talokan. Bring your people the sun, K’uk’ulkan, after the dark times this war has brought with it.” You pushed the orb into his hands, releasing the speck of power from your being.  

Namor gasped, shaking his head. “I cannot do that. This is yours.” He tried to push it back into your chest, but you wouldn’t accept it.  

“It will be mine again, one day, in yakunaj. Until then, let it guide your people. Let it guide your heart.”  

Namor looked at you, wide eyed. The orb floated around his body, refusing to move further than a few inches from his skin.  

“I do not know what to say, ki'ichpanech, other than that I am undeserving of this gift.”  

“You will take it anyway,” you say, patting the area of his chest near his heart. Your hand lingered on his skin, and he could not stop himself from crashing his lips into yours. You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He held you tightly against his body, arms wrapped fully around your waist in a tight embrace.  

You pulled away, gently cradling his face. “Stay safe, my King. I will see you soon.”  

Namor stumbled forward in your sudden absence, and he couldn’t help the frustrated grunt he let out. Soon had better be soon, or he’d start scouring the Earth for signs of you.  

- 

Namor had not expected to see you so soon. It had only been a few years since your last encounter, and after the enormous stints of time between your previous meetings, he had not expected you for another few decades. An enormous eruption from the sea had beckoned him far from Talokan, the furthest he’d been from his home in years. 

Something was different this time. Unlike your previous appearances, where you’d appeared seemingly out of thin air, this time you were accompanied by a small group of people. Your hair was disheveled, and it looked like you and the people around you had been fighting something, something huge.  

He rushed onto the beach towards you. If there was a threat to you, he’d eliminate it faster than you could blink. It wasn’t so much a choice, but more of an instinct. He stumbled forward when he felt the full brunt of power between you and your friends.  

Oh. They were like you.  

Your friends stiffened when they noticed him, but your smile was the only thing he could focus on as he made his way towards you. This felt different because it was different. You weren’t here from your present. This was the present, and he was about to officially meet you. He was suddenly glad you hadn’t told him the details of your first meeting because he hadn’t had time to grow anxious about it.  

You met him halfway across the beach, jumping into his arms when you got close enough to reach him. He pulled you into a hug, wondering if he could get away with never letting go of you again. 

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but we’ve met before, ki'ichpanech.” He mumbled into your ear. 

“Yes, we have.” You let out a light laugh, planting a kiss on his cheek.  

Namor’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out how this version of you could know who he was, or how you would know about your previous meetings since they technically hadn’t happened yet. He shook his head. The thought of it gave him a headache, and he wasn’t going to try and figure that one out on his own.  

“You are here to stay, right?” He asked, hopeful.  

“Yes, in yakunaj, I’m here to stay.”  

Namor kissed you sweetly, arms still wrapped around you. He wouldn’t be letting go of you for a while, and you seemed perfectly okay with that.  

- 

When you stumbled back into the present for the final time, Namor was stretched out in the bed you shared with him. It was late, much later than you had intended on being, and you opened your mouth to explain your absence before realizing that Namor would remember the encounter with you, and likely already understood why you had been gone for so long. You crawled into the bed next to him, pressing a kiss into his bare shoulder before cuddling into his side. 

“Now you have seen me at my worst.” Namor’s voice was a hushed whisper against the late hour.  

“I love you, even at your worst, in yakunaj.” You responded in an equally hushed tone.  

He pulled you closer, angling his body so that he could wrap you into a hug, and you shuttered against him. He was always so warm, and never once complained about how cold your skin was.  

“You are my greatest inspiration, ki'ichpanech. You are my strength and my love. My people are very lucky to have you as their queen. I cannot express the love I have for you in here.” He tapped his chest, resting his head on the top of yours.  

“You are an unbelievable sap, Namor.” You chuckled, nuzzling your face into his chest. “I love you even more for it, though.”

End Note: I really really love how this came out. I hope you enjoyed it! Either way, thank you for reading!

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"I told you I would figure it out eventually," You shot at him as you took a swig from your water bottle. You and Tenoch were in stunt rehearsal for some fight scenes you had together. There was a tricky move in the first scene that had taken you over an hour to finally get right.

"We still have 3 more to mark and practice. Remember what Damian said about practicing while he was gone," Tenoch reminded you. Damian was your fight choreographer who was out on some family emergency. He wanted the two of you to keep practicing the complicated hand to hand combat scenes while he was away. Tenoch had been a complete tyrant over it, wanting to make it all perfect before Damian returned. Tenoch was realizing that positive reinforcement seemed to work better than cracking the whip on you.

"I don't think Damian would appreciate you working me to the bone," You replied as you tossed your shirt off, leaving you in a sports bra and bike shorts. You made your way back to the center of the mats and started to mark your steps for the next fight.

Tenoch walked up to you and fondly grabbed you by the nape of your neck, squeezing it affectionately as he joined you, "He would appreciate how good of a job you are doing. Remember when we first started and you kept losing your balance. What you've done is impressive."

You felt your skin heat up at the compliments but ignored it, "Let's just keep going ok?"

Tenoch raised his hands in a sign of defeat after you roughly shrugged him off. "I really mean it though, I am proud of you."

You took a deep breath and rubbed your nose bridge in exasperation. Tenoch found it amusing but called for you to start the next set of moves. As you continued practicing Tenoch made a conscious effort to continue to compliment you as it seemed to really drive you to do better.

In reality you were trying to keep your cool. You were hyper focused on the movements and ignoring the way that Tenoch kept telling you how proud he was of you and how impressed he was by your improvement. It was making you unbelievably frustrated. There was a constant flush under your skin and you were fighting the desire to rub your legs together.

With all your strength you flipped Tenoch onto the mats. Out of breath you looked down at the man who had the wind knocked out of him. Once he collected himself he let out a laugh and smiled up at you. "Wow, y/n! That's my girl, I didn't think you were going to get it that fast."

You suppressed the noise that almost came out of your mouth and offered him your hand so he could get back on his feet. He patted your head and continued his excited laugh, "You're really amazing you know."

Tenoch was surprised when you pulled away and determinedly walked towards your water bottle again. "Are you okay? You seem kind of frustrated."

"I'm fine. Let's just move on alright," You shook out your arms and stretched a little in place.

Tenoch didn't like that you seemed so closed off, especially since you both were getting so physical so he pulled you down to sit on the bench with him. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," You replied trying not to let any part of you touch the actor.

"Why are you sitting like that? Relax I'm not going to hit you," Tenoch said, pulling you into his side with an arm around your shoulders. He shook you lightly, "You know I love how fast you're getting this considering how nervous you were before. You're going to look amazing once we start filming."

You looked away, trying not to let the tingles on the side of your body that was touching his overwhelm you. You coughed to try and cover the stuttering in your voice, "Y-yeah, it will be great. Can we start on the next scene now?"

You deftly pulled yourself away from his grasp and made it to the center of the mat again. Tenoch took a minute to watch you, contemplating how warm you had felt against him and how you kept looking away from his gaze. You were normally very confident about eye contact and would joke with him whenever you trained. When he had been harsher you had seemed to relish talking back to him. Something was different and Tenoch had a sneaking suspicion he knew what it was.

"Y/N, is that a new sports bra and leggings set? I don't think I've ever seen you wear them?" Tenoch asked, staring at you from his seat on the bench.

The question caught you off guard, "Uh yeah, I got it last week."

Tenoch stood and smiled as he approached you. He looked you up and down before looking you straight in the eye, "You wear them really well. If I'm completely honest, your ass looks amazing."

Whatever reaction you had was strangled in your throat by sheer will power. You covered your mouth and turned away. You felt Tenoch approach your back, "While I like the view, can you turn around for me?"

His tone of voice had changed to amusement and something darker. You turned around, not meeting his eye. Tenoch was positive he knew why you were shy all of a sudden. He tilted your chin so you would look at him, "That's a good girl. You listen really well. I'm proud of you."

"Fuck," you practically whimpered before you bolted out of the training room. You could feel your leggings become uncomfortably wet between your legs.

~~~

Tenoch felt a little bad for messing with you the day before but he also found your little fetish enticing. You were so in control and dominant normally that finding out that you had a praise kink, of all things, was a turn on.

When he walked into the training room he found you stretching in the middle of the mats. You nodded at him as he entered and dropped off his things at the bench against the wall. He joined you on the mat and got down to the floor to stretch out like you.

"Good morning, y/n," Tenoch greeted you hesitantly. He knew he probably crossed some sort of line yesterday, "You look well rested."

You glanced at him quickly and looked away, "Thanks."

"We can cover the next few fights today and we should be ready for when Damian comes back," Tenoch said as the two of your continued stretching. Suddenly he felt his hamstring tighten into a cramp, "Puta madre!"

As his muscles seized in a painful cramp you moved towards him and pulled his shoe off. You knelt down and lifted his leg up and bent his toes towards his knees while you massaged his calf.

The actor continued to curse under his breath until he felt his muscle start to loosen. You sat back on your legs and kept his calf on your lap while you continued to move his foot and knead his muscle. Tenoch had his arm covering his face as you helped him through the spasm.

"Mmm, fuck that feels good," Tenoch groaned. You paused your movements which caused him to protest, "Wait, don't stop yet, please. You're really good at that."

You were heating up again but continued to knead his calf, running your hands up and down his bare leg. Tenoch took his arm off his face and sat up on his elbows, watching you as you focused on his leg. He realized that your hair wasn't in its usually tied back style. "You look gorgeous with your hair untied like that."

You looked up and met Tenoch's gaze then shoved his leg off your lap roughly. You stood up, "Get up, you baby. We need to practice."

"Hey, you don't have to be so rough," Tenoch scowled half-heartedly as he slowly stood up, still feeling a twinge in his calf.

You ignored his pleas to take it easy as you ran through the fights. Hours were spent honing your skills. Tenoch found himself distracted by how much you improved with your obvious frustration at him. This excited him as he had to catch up to your speed and precision.

By the time you finished sparring and marking your moves for the fights you were both sweaty and exhausted, but successful. You chugged some water. "That actually ended up being easier once we go the timing right."

Tenoch nodded as he took a large drink of water. "Yea once we figured out the beats to the close combat parts it wasn't that hard to get the rest."

You were seated on the bench while he stood next to you looking at his beard in the mirrors on the wall. You had a towel hanging on one shoulder after you had wiped your sweat. You looked up at the tall actor from your seated position, "What no compliments now?"

Tenoch looked down at you and raised an eyebrow. He leaned his arm on the mirror above you and leaned down, "You want to know what compliments I have for you now? What if you get mad again?"

"I wasn't mad," you mumbled.

"Then why did you run off yesterday?" He asked, a teasing smile on your face.

"Why were you complimenting me so much yesterday?" You challenged, not wanting to admit out loud what you felt.

"Like how good I think you look when you're looking up from below me like a good girl?" Tenoch said in a low voice, leaning down over you.

You went silent at his words, your skin grew hot. You bit your lip and let out a huff.

"Now don't do that," Tenoch reached forward, cupped your cheek and used his thumb to ever so slightly pull your bottom lip from your teeth. "Your lips do look sexy all bitten and wet like that."

"Tenoch," You whispered as his thumb gently rubbed your lip. You swallowed deeply.

"Hmm," Tenoch replied still focusing on your lip.

You were heady with arousal now, unable to deny the effect his words had on you. You wanted to hear more, "Tenoch, did I do good today?"

He smiled down at you, and met your eyes, "You were amazing. And you looked so good getting all sweaty and breathy for me."

Unconsciously you rubbed your thighs together. It caught Tenoch's eye and he glanced at your lap. He crouched down and put his palm on your thigh, rubbing it firmly. Now that he was closer to your eye level, he leaned in, "You like being such a good girl for me, don't you?"

"Yes," Your reply was breathy.

"And you'll keep being a good girl for me every time we train, because you want me to be proud of you," He purred against your lips. You wanted to kiss him but knew you had to wait. You nodded, letting a soft moan escape your lips.

"You sound so cute when you're needy," Tenoch smiled then pecked your lips. You groaned in frustration when his lips did not linger, "Tomorrow. I want to see how long you hold out. I want to see how long you can be a good girl for me and wait for me. You can do that, right?"

Tenoch was standing again, his hand grabbed your chin to make sure you were looking at him, "If you're good, I'll reward you."

"Yes, sir," You replied automatically,

Tenoch chuckled as he leaned down and kissed one cheek and then the other, "Don't call me that. Say my name,"

"Yes, Tenoch," You replied, fighting the urge to pull him down for a kiss.

"You've been so good for me. I know you want me to touch you, right?" Tenoch asked, letting go of your chin and moving so that he was standing in front of you. You could see his hard on in his gym shorts. Your rubbed your legs together again.

He took one of your hands and rubbed the back of it against his crotch then let you palm him. When you tried to do more he stopped you. "Now you know how big it is, what it feels like in your hand. Remember that and think about it tonight when you touch yourself."

"Tenoch," You looked up, surprised at his command. He silenced you with a finger on your lip. You opened your mouth and touched it with your tongue. He was struggling too, you could tell by his breathing and the darkness of his eyes.

"Tonight, you'll use that hand and get yourself off thinking about me. Then, I want you to be a good girl and send me a picture of your wet hand after you cum. Do you understand?" Tenoch didn't break your gaze.

"Yes, Tenoch," You knew your leggings had to be ruined at this point.

He smiled down at you with a hungry look in his eyes, then he turned away and picked up his water bottle and jacket. Then he looked at you one more time, "I like how you look when you're imagining me ruining you."

Then he walked out, not caring that he had an obvious raging hard on or that he left his costar a wet mess on the bench. When you had finally calmed down, which felt like an eternity later, you were hot and very bothered. You made your way home, going over the last two days in your head. How far was he going to take this? How far were you going to let him?

Late into the night you sent Tenoch a picture of what he wanted.

TH: Good girl. Where are you?

Y/N: Home?

TH: The apartment?

Y/N: Yes, Tenoch.

TH: Be a good girl and get ready for me. I'm coming over.

....

SO there we go.