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It hit him as he was walking through the Hallmark store, buying a stupid birthday present for some random person in the office. He was grumbling to himself, and then you were there. Not in person, no. But your scent. Drifting through the air conditioned breeze and stealing all sense from his system. A switch flicked.

His alpha demanded, and he was happy to comply.

Even with the bustling mall, crowds of people darting and perusing, he doesn’t lose your scent. Following past storefronts—even those that waft obnoxious colognes out their doors—and the food court—with the smell of food flooding the air. Your trail leads him to you.

He wonders if you know. If you sense him. The predator on your tail. Stalking after you on the hunt.

He pauses in front of the sporting goods store. Ari and Curtis exiting as he approaches. A wild, feral look in each of his packmate’s eyes. But they find him in the crowd. Without a word, joining him on his search to find you.

Three pairs of eyes scan their surroundings. Their combined instincts goading them on.

They find you in the parking garage. The breeze changing. Your scent still lingering. But they see you. The tension in your shoulders. The shiver of your figure. Your quick steps and swinging gaze. Looking for them as much as they’re looking for you. Distress sours your scent. Your feet scurry. Pace rapid as you try to get to the safety of your car. You know. You can feel them, smell them.

He and his packmates continue their pursuit.

A nod to the side separates them. Their formation fanning out. Corralling you wherever you’re going.

You shove your key into the door of your car, hands shaking, nearly fumbling them. Scratches form on the handle with your missed attempts. But then it notches in the lock and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief.

He’s at your back before you can. You whip around, pathetic growl rolling in your throat. His lips tilt in a smirk.

“No need for that, omega,” he says, holding up a hand to dismiss the sound. Ari and Curtis come into his periphery. Ari’s eyes softening at the growl in your throat, Curtis’ eyes hungry.

You’re too focused on him to notice. And he steps forward, crowding you into the cool metal of your car.

“Easy now,” he coos in a whisper just for you. One hand raises to cup your cheek, your eyes widening at the touch. “It’s nice to meet you.” Your scent fills his nose—even tainted as it is by your fear. “That’s Ari and Curtis,” he introduces with a nod to each at his side, “and I’m Andy. We’re your new alphas.”

"How do you think this is gonna go down." Ransom picked at a piece of lint on his sweater absently as he inspected Andy.

"Lloyd's made a mess here. This isn't like the charges for Everett." Andy tried to keep his tone casual, but knew by the uptick in Ransom's eyebrow that he failed. 

"I'm well aware that these are starkly different cases, Barber." Ransom's stare finally left Andy as he stood from behind the old desk in his office. He moved to the bar cart in the corner, pouring himself a glass before turning back to Andy and leaning against the cart. "I'm telling you, that Lloyd will not be serving any time for it. Nor should this go on his record. Am I clear?"

It took everything in Andy to maintain his composure. "I'll talk to the D.A. See if I can point them in a different direction." 

He stood and gathered up his paperwork, ready to leave the office and make grovelling phone calls, pulling himself together to deliver parting advice to his boss. "I know Lloyd's your brother. But he's bringing in a lot of attention, and not in a good way. If you can't reign him in, I may not be able to keep the charges away for much longer." 

Ransom gave Andy a long look. Tapping on the crystal of his glass as he made his way back behind the mahogany desk. He pursed his lips, his gaze landing on Andy one final time. "I'll keep it in mind." 

With that, Andy took that as the dismissal it was and promptly set his sights on the courthouse.

Ransom flipped through his copy of the charges, passed along by one of the cops he had flipped. Well, he hadn't flipped him. But he worked for Ransom now, and really that was all that mattered. The sigh that left his chest was heavy.

"What am I gonna do about you, Hansen?" 

Kidnapping. Assault with a deadly weapon. All charges Lloyd had slid past before. 

The murder charge though? They had never had enough to charge him with murder. Lloyd was usually too careful, too smart, for them to have enough evidence to lay charges. 

Ransom unlocked his phone and scrolled through his contacts, hesitating before dialing. "Hey, need you to come to my office. Now." with that he hung up the phone and steepled his fingers as he waited. 

His jaw clenched and unclenched. Thankful his grandfather wasn't alive to see this shitshow unfold. It was bad enough Mother would be calling to scream at him. 

A light tap on the door drew him from his thoughts, "Come." His only response.

"You wanted to see me Sir?" Despite his stature, Ari was meek in front of his boss. It always left Ransom feeling much better about his position in the family.

"You need to put a tighter leash on Lloyd." 

The silence that stretched after his statement had Ransom glancing up at Ari. He raised his eyebrows in question. "Is there a problem?"

Ari wrung his hands and swallowed roughly, "You of all people know what your brothers like. He's not going to be happy about me putting someone on him." 

Ransom scoffed, "Well you can tell him, if he didn't get this family neck high in shit, he wouldn't have a babysitter." He narrowed his eyes at Ari, "You're with him for the next little while until," he gestured to the paper strewn across his desk, "this goes away. Understood?"

Ari huffed out a laugh, "You think because I'm there he's gonna be on his best behaviour?" Ari crossed the room to Ransom's desk, plucking out a crime scene photo of the victim and holding it up to Ransom. "You know damn well that I was there for this, and there wasn't a goddamn thing that was stopping Lloyd."

Ransom chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I know who was where and when Levinson, I don't need you to remind me."

Ari inspected Ransom closely for a few moments, sliding the picture back into the stack of papers. "I'll keep an eye on him, maybe send him on some low hanging fruit to keep him busy for a bit." 

Ransom hummed, "Anything else on fire while you're here?" 

Ari chuckled softly, "No, Everett's working on the payment collections, no force required so far. I've heard some whispers about the feds trying to get involved, but nothing concrete. I'll let you know if anything comes up, and handle what I can."

Ransom sent him a strained smile, "Keep me posted on Lloyd. We can't have this turn into a bigger mess than it already is."

Ari nodded, he paused with his hand on the door, but shook his head and left. Ransom knew what he was about to suggest, it wouldn't be the first time someone had told him that Lloyd needed to be taken out for the good of the family. But he was not about to be one the to put a hit on his own brother. Especially given the fact that he knew he didn't have a man close enough to matching Lloyd. 

Ransom pinched the bridge of his nose as his phone vibrated on the desk. Mother could wait. He gathered the papers that were littering his desk and shoved them back in the manila envelope he had received them in and slammed them in the top drawer of his desk. He swirled the last dregs of his drink in the tumbler before shooting it back. 

Standing he shrugged on his jacket and scarf, glancing back to his desk one more time, "Are you coming or what?"

You unfolded yourself from underneath the desk, your joints screaming at the ache. You tried not to let the disgust show on your face at everything you had heard from beneath your husbands desk. As you approached Ransom on unsteady legs, he smoothed a hand down your dress, nodding his approval. You shakily followed him out of his office and down to his car.

***

You were in no mood to celebrate and had zero defenses. You felt so unbelievably alone, so sad and devastated, completely empty and desolate inside. 

So when Curtis appeared in the bedroom to find you still donning your lacy sleep dress well past noon as you curled up in the window seat overlooking the back garden, you didn’t perk up in alarm like you usually did. 

You didn’t recoil or cower as his reflection appeared behind you in the window, looming over you as his finger dragged along the bare curve of your shoulder to make his presence–and his possession of you–known. 

You just released a shaky exhale and pressed your forehead against the cool glass, resigned to your fate as the drag of his finger turned to the firm grip of his hand around your bicep as he pulled you to your feet before him. 

His lips quirked at the way you avoided his gaze, the way your shoulders curled protectively–like you could really defend yourself against him in any way. Curtis’ big hand glided around your hip and down until he was gripping your ass and tugging you flush against him. 

You could feel him growing hard against your belly, his free hand lifting to grip your throat, and it was the firm almost painful grip around your neck that had tears springing to your eyes and the plea falling from your lips before you could think to suppress it. 

“Please don’t hurt me or humiliate me, not today.”

Curtis quirked an eyebrow, looking amused by your request. “And what makes today so special?”

“I…” your voice broke, your gaze falling away because you suddenly felt so stupid, and embarrassed. 

You felt so vulnerable–which was ridiculous given your circumstances–but it was how you felt all the same. 

And your shyness and silent distress only piqued Curtis’ interest even more. 

His grip on your throat shifted to his fingers holding your chin, and he pointed your gaze at his. “Tell me.”

“It’s my birthday,” you whispered. “And I… I just don’t want to hurt today. Please.”

Something you had never seen before flashed in Curtis’ eyes as he watched you, and although you couldn’t quite identify it, your body had a visceral and emotional reaction to that unfamiliar look.

Shuddering, your face crumpled as your emotions rose up within you, a hot flood of tears spilling over as you dropped your forehead to Curtis’ chest, clutched his shirt between your fingers, and cried. 

“Please, I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I just want it to stop. I’m so tired. I’m so tired of hurting and feeling dirty. Of being so alone. It’s my birthday, and I’m all alone. I’m all alone.”

Curtis went still as a harsh sob rocked your body and you sagged against him, lost to your grief and overwhelm. 

Your unbearable pain. 

And then he did something you never would have expected. 

He touched you gently, innocently, his big hand warming the place between your shoulder blades, holding you against him in a not quite embrace before he was carefully stroking your back. 

“You’re not alone,” he said. 

When you tipped your face up to look at him, confusion furrowing your brows, he smiled, just a little. 

And it wasn’t a mean curl of his lips or a wicked, devious grin but a soft, genuine smile making its debut.

His hand lifted to cup your cheek, his smile dimming when you flinched at the sudden movement, but he persisted, his thumb swiping away the tears lingering along your skin as he watched you stare at him with a look of stunned wariness. 

After a moment, you did something that you had never done before–you willingly leaned into Curtis’ touch. 

And when he ducked close and kissed you, somehow urgent and gentle all at once as he drank from your lips, you whined, not from fear or defeat or pain, but from desperation. 

You were so desperate for a real, gentle touch. For genuine comfort and softness.

For kindness and care. 

“I’ve got you, sweet girl,” Curtis murmured before he gathered you in his arms and guided you toward the bed. 

His movements were slow and careful as he undressed you, his lips trailing along every inch of your skin that he could reach. 

You came alive beneath his soft touch, blossoming like a flower at every reverent kiss and lingering caress, at every murmur of praise. 

And for the first time ever, your breathless, trembling chant of, “Please, please, please!” wasn’t to ward him off but to beg him for more. 

You opened your legs to Curtis willingly, your cunt weeping a river of arousal as he shed his own clothing and moved closer. 

There was a foreign kind of darkness shadowing his gaze as he settled over you. One big hand warmed your belly, his thumb strumming along your clit and making you whimper and writhe as he slowly, carefully fed you each and every inch of his hard, aching cock. 

It was the first time he split you open without a trace of roughness to be found. Instead, settling his weight on top of you as each of his hands found each of your own and twined your fingers together. 

When your breath caught at the soft, intimate touch, your gaze wide, disbelieving, and glittering with tears, Curtis shot you that soft smile again before dipping close for a kiss. 

He worked your mouth with his lips and tongue until you were squirming beneath him, worked up and impatient–desperate for what came next. 

And he gave it to you. 

Curtis’ gaze was avid and fixed on your face as he began to move inside of you, starting with soft, shallow rocks of his hips before he was giving you more–what you were begging for–and yet still somehow keeping it gentle as he fucked you. 

He didn’t stop until he rocked your body with three orgasms and you were all dazed and floaty and sweetly wrecked in a way he had never seen before but was already craving again. 

Groaning, Curtis finally chased his own release with deep, frantic ruts of his hips, flooding your insides with a throaty grunt of satisfaction before sinking on top of you and panting for breath. 

Once he came down from his high and found you dozing beneath him, your face lax in sleep and so painfully beautiful despite the dark shadows beneath your eyes, Curtis just watched you for a beat. 

He gently retrieved one of his hands from yours and smoothed it over your head before cupping your cheek, his soft cock twitching inside of you as you sighed your content in your sleep and nuzzled into his touch. 

Gazing at you for a moment longer, Curtis dipped close and gently kissed you, whispering against your lips, “Happy birthday.”

And then he settled down in bed and carefully arranged you over him, tugging the covers up to keep you warm as he held you close and listened to your steady breathing as you peacefully slept atop his chest for the first time ever. 

Soooo obviously this was written a while ago, because there have actually been some softer moments with canon PP!Curtis, but I wanted to preserve the core of this original piece and the underlying thread of angst and devastation. @krirebr would be so proud lolll 😘

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You scurried to keep up with the Beta who was guiding you through the city. Your only protection. She seemed nice enough you guessed, but she was clearly a strict woman, with little care for the throng of Alphas ahead. You felt a pull behind you, like someone was trying to discreetly get your attention. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the same glitter from the alley. You were sure they were blue eyes, tracking you through the crowded street, but it was hard to tell because his pupils were blown wide. 

Without thinking, you clutched onto the sleeve of your Beta tour guide, the scent of a hot summer day taking over all of your senses. It was too much, you needed to get out of here. Her eyebrow quirked, and she sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling. She didn't seem the type to put up with Alphas, especially a rogue Alpha in rut.

She set a brisk pace as she guided the group of omegas through the streets. To outsiders it would probably seem that you were rushing to your next viewpoint, you could tell from some of the groups baffled looks that they hadn't even picked up on the Alpha's overpowering scent. You had a moment where it struck you as odd, but as the Beta rushed you all into a private museum, the thought left you as quickly as it came.

"Everyone," your Beta tour guide pulled your group to a room, "I have called for a van to pick us up and take us back to the hotel. Unfortunately, there is an Alpha in rut roaming the streets, and we cannot allow for the tour to continue until they are subdued, for your own safety."

Quiet murmurs spread through the group. Some were terrified having never met an Alpha in rut before. As your gaze travelled across the faces around you, you saw a wide range of emotions. Some Omegas were scared, some indifferent, the ones that concerned you the most were the Omegas who seemed intrigued. 

You shook your head, anxiously twisting your fingers, praying for the car to arrive sooner rather than later. Something about that scent had affected you like no other Alpha had before. The thought sent a thrill up your spine, which you quickly tamped down. This Alpha is in rut.

An unmated Alpha in rut was dangerous. Not just to Omegas, but Betas too. Normally procedure dictated that any unmated Alphas had to quarantine 5 days before their expected rut and were mandated to stay that way until at least 5 days after the symptoms had passed. It was the same for Omegas, although the danger was to themselves, not others.

Of course, there were always Alphas who defied these rules. Usually though they stuck to the underground clubs. Passed their rut by fucking every Omega they came across there. Not perfect, but certainly better than wandering the streets. 

The energy in the little room your tour guide had pulled you all into was buzzing with anxiety. Even the Omegas that had initially seemed intrigued by the rogue Alpha were starting to get anxious. 

A tap to the door startled all of you, one Omega burst into tears. You rolled your eyes, almost against your own will. Yes, you were scared, yes, you were worried, but you didn't need to carry on about it. When the Beta opened the door, another Beta stood at the other side, seemingly there to take you all back to your hotel. 

You were all ushered through a side door of the building, and into a waiting van. Wind whipped your face as you were the last into the van, and once again the scent of  heat, warmth, home hit you causing your head to spin. Although you all seemed to be safe, there was a lingering tension on the car ride back. 

Once safely back in your hotel room, you scrambled for your toiletries bag. Desperately searching for the suppressants that would hide your identity. You dumped the medication onto the little desk counting the pills, freezing when you realized there were too many. You had forgotten your dose. With all the excitement of travelling and the eagerness to see the tour, you had forgotten to take your does this morning. 

That Alpha had definitely picked up your scent as Omega.

You groaned, no wonder you had been so affected by his scent. You went into the bathroom and showered, hoping the water would wash away the uncomfortable feeling the day had left you with.

***

The shower had done wonders for your mood. You called down for room service, knowing that your hotel was safe, but still needing the comfort of your own scent for now. You picked at the blankets you had gathered on the bed, wrinkling your nose at the "unscented" detergent. A scent would be better than none at all.

Glee filled you at the tap on your door, eager for your food. You had probably ordered too much, but knew you were going to be snacking for ages on your treats. When you opened the door a hot summer day smacked you in the face again, causing you to stumble backwards. It was enough, the Alpha pushed the cart of food and himself into your room. 

The door slammed behind him, your instincts fighting inside you. Your rational brain told you to hit, run, fight, hide. Anything. Your Omega instincts begged for you to drop to your knees for this Alpha to show him your submission. As it was, you stood, neither running nor submitting. 

You took in the man before you, he was tall with broad shoulders that filled the tiny entranceway of your hotel room. His dirty blonde hair was swept back from his face, you wouldn't call it long, but it wasn't short either. The glitter of his eyes stopped your inspection. You knew those eyes, that build, but your mind couldn't place from where. 

You gripped the cart between you, the only barrier keeping the powerful Alpha away from you. No sounds passed between you, all you could hear was the ringing in your ears and your own laboured breathing. You saw his hands clench in a grip on the cart, as though it was happening in slow motion he yanked the cart to your left and it crashed against the wall. 

Now there was nothing between the two of you. 

Your eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. The Alpha's eyes watched you, his movements slow as he raised his hands in surrender. In response to your fear, your scent had turned sour and his nose wrinkled. The scent of his rut slapped you in the face. The hot summer day was still there, but under it was pure need, desire, and something else. 

"P-Please." You wished your voice would come out stronger, but you were practically drowning in his scent at this point. "Please don't hurt me." You knew begging probably wasn't going to get you the result you wanted, but it was all the words you could string together now.

The Alpha grunted and took a step towards you, "I don't want to hurt you, I promise." His voice was wrecked. Like he was just as affected by your scent as you were by his. Home. The thought pulsed through you so quickly you weren't sure where it came from. "I-I was in a safe house, miles away. This morning I woke up, and your scent." He scrubbed a hand down his face, bringing your attention there. "I was fine, until your scent hit me. I had to find you."

Well that was clear as mud. 

"What are you talking about?" Your voice was shrill, your breathing fast, "Listen Mr. I know that you're in rut, and you probably need, um, help with that or something. But I can't, I'm not your mate, okay?" You trembled as you slowly started to back away from the Alpha. 

Like he knew your every move before you made it, he followed until you were cornered, right at the edge of your bed. There was still distance between the two of you, but not nearly as much as before. Up close you could see the thin line of blue that rimmed his blown out pupils. Underneath his beard you could make out a face that struck once again as familiar.

"Wait!" You put your hand up and it landed on his chest, which now that you were touching you could tell was heaving with either lust or restraint. "I know you."

The Alpha's eyes narrowed, and he closed the distance between you both, clearly over talking things out. He tried to cage you in between him and the bed, but you had speed on your side, and you launched yourself out of his grasp. When you turned back to look at him there was a twinkle in his eyes, and a look of admiration on his face. Alpha is pleased. Your inner Omega was singing at his silent praise.

"Please," He murmured, barely above a whisper, but it felt so loud in the quiet of your room. He groaned and cupped his hands over his face quickly, before standing up straight looking very on mission. The look on his face now sealed what you had suspected.

Because you knew this man. This was the former Captain America. He had been on the run with some of the former Avengers for at least a year now. News articles would pop up now and then of them helping people, saving the day, but never being caught. 

You took a cautious step towards him, "Just, help me understand." Your own voice had calmed, your brain realizing that this man was likely less of a threat than any other Alpha in rut. "Why are you here, how did you find me?" The why me you left unsaid, but the sadness in his eyes told you, you didn't need to say it out loud, he understood.

"I don't know." His hands were reaching out to you, urging you closer. "I was sleeping, and then it hit me. Not my rut," He huffed as you opened your mouth to interrupt. "Your scent. It was everywhere. And the worst part was, no one else could smell it. Romanoff thought I had finally lost it." He chuckled softly as he spoke of his friends. 

"What do you mean 'my scent'?" You could feel yourself starting to lose control, you could hear the desperation in your own voice, feel it in your core. 

He took another step towards you, his hands placed gently on your arms. There was a current of want, need, desire, running between you both now. "I didn't know it was you, until I saw you. I followed your scent. It was like it was calling me," He huffed out a laugh, like it was the silliest thing in the world, "It felt like something was calling me home."

Home.

The thought pulsed through you again, in time with his words. The thought that had hit you from the very first inkling of his scent. Without another thought you threw yourself at him. Your arms snaking around his neck as your lips met his. His hands gripped your thighs and lifted until you were wrapping your legs around his waist. He stood holding you while you wrapped yourself around him as tightly as you could.

Home. Home. Home.

He soon took control of this kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he walked you both back to the bed, to the makeshift nest you had made. His nose wrinkled at the scent, or lack thereof in the blankets. Instead he buried his face in your neck, scenting along the gland there. A trill left your throat as he lightly nipped. His hands smoothed up your torso as he cradled you into the bed. 

You could feel the fog starting to settle over your brain, your inner Omega chanting with glee in your hindbrain at having been chosen by this Alpha. You started pulling at his clothes, hungry for him to devour you. It wasn't long before he was standing before you, a Greek God among men. Your eyes greedily travelled along his body, taking in the broad shoulders and strong arms. The muscles flexing in his chest in abdomen, until finally reaching his pelvis.

There standing proud and at attention, dripping a little bit of precum was his cock. You could feel saliva gather in your mouth, wanting nothing more than to take him then and there. Your intention must have shown on your face because he let out a rumble that sounded more like a growl than a chuckle that had your eyes darting back up to his face. 

"Come here Omega," He held his hand out to you, his face almost pleading.

When you stood before him, there was a reverence as he started to strip you of your clothes. Care was taken to remove each article softly, as if he was afraid any sudden movements on his part would spook you. 

Stripped bare before him, you felt suddenly shy. Moving your arms to cover what parts of yourself you could. Your traitorous thoughts swirling, telling you, you weren't good enough for this Alpha. Your head bowed in shame, a whine escaping your throat. He pulled you close, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispered words finally made it through your cloud of shame, "…so beautiful. Look at you. My perfect Omega. Mine." The last word growled, and possessive. 

He dipped his head and claimed your lips once again, this time the kiss was feral. Like the last of his restraint had snapped, and now, you knew, you were just along for the ride. "Present for me Omega." His tone held no room for argument, and you scrambled to get yourself into position, your head bowed down into the bed, back arched, ass on display.

You purred as he ran a hand from the mating gland on your neck down your spine, your hips swaying in invitation. With two strong hands he gripped your hips, settling them in place. And then you felt him lick a stripe from your front to your back. The sound you made was guttural and feral. He hummed in approval and then dove in like a man starved.

He tongued at your weeping hole briefly before moving down to your clit. You howled as he sucked hard. One of his hands moved to gently probe at your entrance, testing to see how wet you were. The rumble in his chest told you he could feel exactly how excited you were for him. Two fingers easily slipped in pumping in rhythm with his sucks to your clit. You heard a voice chanting, over and over again and it took you a moment to realize, that was you. 

"Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Please. More." He groaned behind you, adding another finger and switching from sucking to licks, until your voice and breaths reached a fever pitch. With a drawn out "Alphaaaaaaa" you came. Gushing your slick all over his face. He moved at the last moment to slurp up as much as he could. His fingers still pumping in you as you came down from your orgasm. 

You felt him smirk, before placing a soft kiss on your clit, and climbing himself up on the bed. He traced the lines of your pussy, sweeping the head of his cock, teasing you. "Please Alpha. Need you. Need more." You whimpered as you begged him.

"If that's what my Omega wants, that's what my Omega gets." The last word was punctuated by him sheathing himself to the hilt. How he could still form words at this point was beyond you. He let out a groan, draping his body over your still bent form. He nosed at your mating gland again, a whisper that you couldn't quite make out before he started pumping his hips. The motions were slow, dragging the head of his cock over that place inside you that made your mouth drop open and groan loudly. 

Home.

His arms wrapped around your front, one grabbing a breast to play with a nipple, the other sneaking down to thrum at your clit. You twisted your head back, whining when you couldn't reach his mouth. But he knew, and quickly swallowed your sounds as his hips snapped to meet yours in that agonizingly slow pace. 

It soon became too much for you to take, and had you grinding your hips back to meet his thrusts. Your body begging for more, in a way your mind couldn't seem to form the words for. He growled into your ear, before pulling his hands back, causing you to whine and your hips to stutter. He shushed you before placing his ands once again on your hips and pulling out almost completely and then slamming home. You wailed as he set a vicious pace. Realizing too late, that the former Captain America had been holding back. 

Your mind went white as another orgasm ripped through you, causing your inner muscles to flutter, gripping him tightly. It was only a few more thrusts before you felt his knot start to swell lodging him inside you as he came. His teeth sank into your bonding gland, sealing your bond. The sensations causing you to orgasm again, although much less strongly than the previous ones. 

When your eyes fluttered open you realized you must have passed out, because you were cuddled into his chest. Face buried in his neck. You tried to speak, but your voice was hoarse. You didn't remember being that loud. Your eyes flickered up to his face. 

Home. Home. Home.

You saw guilt, and sadness crease his eyes as his fingers traced the mark on your neck. "I'm sorry, Omega."

You shook your head. Not in the least bit sorry of what had happened. "Why?" You garbled out. He reached across you to the night stand, propping you up to drink some water, which you gratefully accepted. For some reason that one word, held so much weight.

Why are you sorry? Why me? Why this?

He scrubbed a hand down his face, and it was only now you saw the strain there. He looked bone tired. Not like the last time you had seen him. 

"I didn't mean for this to happen. Not like this." He sat up fully, the sheet falling to his waist. You licked your lips at the sight, but quickly averted your gaze. Not now.

"If you couldn't tell, I'm fully onboard with what happened. And it happening again. If you want." You twisted your hands in your lap. Thinking of how to ask what you wanted to know, now that the lust had passed. "But I need to know. How? Why?"

His fingers gently cupped your chin, angling your face to look him in his eyes. "I'm not entirely sure. It was a feeling as much as it was your scent. Like I couldn't control it. I had to find you. It felt like something awful was going to happen if I didn't." You searched his eyes desperately, seeing nothing but truth there. "But, I didn't mean to mate you. I shouldn't have done that. It was like…" He trailed off, his face showing so much guilt, but worse you could feel it through your bond. 

It was your turn to cup his face, "Alpha, mine." Your fingers scratching through his beard. "Are you feeling guilty because you didn't want to mate me? Or are you feeling guilty because you didn't want to mate me yet?"

Steve hummed and pulled you into a kiss, letting pure want flow through your bond. "I didn't want to mate you like that, without talking. Without use knowing for sure we were on the same page." He gripped your chin tightly. "You know who I am, what kind of trouble I'm in right now. It's not safe for you." He chuckled softly, at odds with his words as if he just realized something. "God, I didn't even ask your name."

You flushed as more memories of the last night swam through your mind. Carefully, you climbed onto his lap straddling his hips, and softly murmured your name to him, adding, "But I like it when you call me Omega."

He growled low in his throat at your admission. "My Omega." His hips making an aborted thrust so you could feel how much he wanted you.

You giggled softly, "Why don't we take care of that," Your eyes drifting down to his hips, "And then you can take me home."

His lips twisted into an amused grin. "I don't have a home right now."

Your hand drifted to lay right over his heart, "This is home."

***

Please ya’ll come screech and tell me what you think! I’m also kind of in love with them. Should we keep them?

Taglist:

A tiny, quiet mew. 

Perking up, you tentatively moved further down the hall, further away from the party and deeper into the opulent manor belonging to the party host, who was a complete stranger to you and probably just as terrible as Curtis. 

A few more yards and half a dozen quiet meows later, you stepped into what looked like a child’s room. Just across the floor, clambering out of a plush cat bed, was a tiny white kitten who only meowed louder when it saw you. 

“Oh my gosh!” You breathed, a genuine smile splitting your lips as you rushed across the large room and sank to your knees without care. 

Why should you care if the expensive, fancy gown Curtis had picked out for you was now pooling on the floor? Or that the sweet little ball of excitement hopping toward you would likely get fur all over it? 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you had seen a kitten, let alone played with one. Probably not since you were a child, and in this moment, you felt as innocent and carefree as one as you cooed at the furry baby and lifted it between your hands to get a better look at it. 

“Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” You gushed as the kitten continued to wiggle and chirp some more under your full attention. 

Giggling, you cradled it against your chest, giving it gentle scritches atop its head. When it started to purr–much louder than you expected from such a tiny creature–you outright laughed for the first time in you couldn’t remember how long. 

Soon, you were giggling and cooing up a storm–completely uninhibited in a way you hadn’t been in so, so long–as the kitten squirmed from your hold and began to jump and pounce along the folds of your dress that you used as a makeshift toy to entertain it. 

And that’s how Curtis found you minutes later. 

Sat on the floor, your gown spread around you as you giggled and played with the kitten, completely oblivious to his presence and the way he watched you for a few long moments, mesmerized. 

Because in all the months that you had been with him, Curtis had never heard you giggle or laugh. He had never seen you smile so freely and without reserve. He had never heard you talk in a silly baby voice or see you be so gentle with such a vulnerable creature. 

It was like you had escaped the dark shadows of his world–the mob underbelly–and returned to your rightful place, one that allowed your light to shine–and that light, it was such a rare commodity in Curtis’ world.

It allowed him to witness a new side to you, which only made him want to possess you more ardently than ever before. It made Curtis want to greedily claim you and covet that pure light of yours all for himself, like a dragon hoarding a precious treasure.

Without realizing it, he took a step toward you, his weight making the floor creak and alerting you to his presence. 

Your head snapped up, and as soon as you saw him, your smile dropped. The joy that had lit your face was instantly snuffed out as you protectively cradled the kitten against your chest and stared at Curtis in fear. 

“Please, I’m sorry—“ you started, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand. 

“Relax, pretty prize.” Curtis kept his steps slow and even as he moved closer. “Seems like you snuck away and found the best company at this thing.”

You were stunned–and wary–as Curtis crouched beside you and reached out his big hand. It was a protective instinct that you didn’t have time to think better of or suppress, recoiling from him and taking the kitten with you. 

But Curtis just seemed amused as he watched you, his eyes gleaming as his lips twitched and he murmured, “You think I’d hurt it?”

“Can you blame me?” you replied without thinking, your own eyes widening as you cursed having touched even a sip of alcohol if this was the result–being dangerously bold with someone who could truly make you pay for it. 

Smirking, Curtis held your gaze as he once again reached out, clocking the way you stiffened but didn’t recoil this time as he used one long, lone finger to gently pet along the kitten’s head. 

You deflated with a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as the kitten began another round of loud purrs, and it seemed as if you thankfully hadn’t stoked Curtis’ ire by hiding away in here and then practically sassing him due to your less than sober state.

All too soon, Curtis was lifting the sleeping kitten from your hold, grinning as you pouted at him but didn’t object as he moved to place the kitten in its bed. Your lips tilted into an almost smile as you watched the kitten turn in circles a few times before eventually curling up and falling into a peaceful, sound sleep. 

You were so busy watching the kitten, you didn’t realize Curtis was just as avidly watching you. Not until he stroked your cheek just as softly as he had petted the kitten just moments ago, and you turned to him to find his darker-than-normal gaze intently fixed on you.

“Sometimes I forget how sweet you are,” he husked, his knuckles gently drawing down the length of your throat and making you shiver. 

It was instant the way your body perked up in awareness—throbbing with a shameful interest and need—as Curtis continued to gently touch you. Until you were squirming and avoiding his gaze, wishing that he didn’t have such a primal effect on you always. 

After everything. 

“You look very pretty tonight,” he murmured, gently stroking beneath your chin before tilting your shy gaze up to meet his. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Your eyes started to fall away again, but Curtis’ touch shifted, until he was gently gripping the front of your neck and holding your head aloft. 

Your gasp was sharp and startled—scared—as you met his gaze. “Please,” you trembled. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Oh, I don’t want to hurt you,” Curtis hummed. “I want to make you feel good.”

You were startled for an entirely different reason now as Curtis swiftly rose to his feet, gripping your hand to take you along with him. A moment later, you were down the hall in a spare bedroom, pressed up against the closed door as Curtis kissed you so hungrily, there was no other word for it than ravished.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the reprieve from prying eyes and gossip that had greeted you at the start of the night–or maybe it was just your traitorous body finally luring your frazzled mind to the dark side–but when Curtis’ hand began to descend your body, when it worked its way beneath the long folds of your skirt, then between your thighs, you welcomed his sinful touch. 

You begged for it. 

“Please,” you gasped, your head falling back as Curtis’ lips blazed a hot trail of kisses down your throat.

“You’ve got me aching, I’m so hard for you,” Curtis gristled against your neck, giving a nip sharp enough to make you whine in need before his tongue soothed over your skin. 

You were so wet by the time Curtis sank into you, that he bottomed out in one slow, deep thrust that had you both moaning as his forehead dropped to yours. You panted and squirmed as your pussy fluttered and clamped around him, earning another throaty groan from Curtis before he started to move inside of you. 

He kept his promise and didn’t hurt you, but your coupling was quick and rough–desperatre. Your bodies rutted against one another, your moans smothered against each other's lips until you were cumming with a sharp cry of delight and clinging to Curtis’ broad shoulders like he was the only thing anchoring you to this moment. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, burying himself as deep inside your cunt as he could before giving shallow ruts as he came and pumped you full of his seed. 

You shivered as the warmth of his pleasure bloomed inside of you, making your pussy flutter all over again as you sank back against the door, completely boneless and dazed to boot.

And–as Curtis had promised–feeling good. 

So good that you didn’t want this moment to end, and when Curtis went to pull away, you clung to him, giving sleepy blinks and a discontent pout that made his lips twitch and his eyes dance at you. 

“Come on, pretty prize, this party’s a bust, and I’d much rather get you home where I can eat your sweet, needy cunt at my leisure.”

Laughing as he felt you clench in response to his words, Curtis finally pulled away. He took a moment to put himself back together again, then another moment to do the same for you. 

When he glanced up, Curtis found you watching him with a furrow between your brow. Whether it was due to his rare, gentle caretaking, or your own contentment in this moment, he wasn’t sure, but regardless, he caught your chin with his fingers and leaned in to kiss you slowly. 

You made a soft, sweet sound of surprise against his lips that had Curtis smirking as he pulled away, and when you swayed after him–mindlessly chasing his retreat–a deep rumble of satisfaction vibrated his chest as he touched his lips to your forehead and hummed, “You’re so fucking sweet.”

Then, much like you had started the evening, you ended it nearly the same way–with Curtis’ thick arm curled around your waist. Only this time, he was leading you from the room–and the party altogether–shouldering most of your weight as you struggled to walk on your jelly-like legs, uncaring of the numerous gazes and judgemental whispers that accompanied your departure.  

He’s such a mindfuck 😩 But also: I’m so here for it. 

NEXT PART

—

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The Boss

Ransom Drysdale may not have been the oldest of the family, but was the one who sought power. The mastermind of the Thrombey Family, he wields his power from behind closed doors. Leaving the difficult tasks to his right hand and top hitman.

The Hitman

The eldest brother, Lloyd never really cared for the responsibility of the family business. He much preferred making the marks squeal, and bleeding them dry. Sometimes though, Ransom wished he wasn’t quite so bold, or quite so devastating in his attacks.

The Right Hand

Brought in as a teen, Ari Levinson worked his way up to earn the trust of even the eldest members of the family. Now, all orders from Ransom go through him. Ari’s gotten so confident in his role, he’ll make the tough calls on his own, even if they’ll get him in trouble.

The Secret Agent

Steve Rogers and his partner wind up on assignment to infiltrate the Thrombey family. All the research in the world can’t prepare them for what they find when they finally earn the family’s, and specifically Lloyd’s trust.

The Enforcer

When the tasks seem below Lloyd’s pay grade, the family sends in Curtis Everett. No one’s really sure how exactly he came to the family, but they do know that he prefers to work alone. Curtis will occasionally help Lloyd, if he has to, but does not choose to work with him. His hits are all his own.

The Family Lawyer

Thankfully for Andy, he doesn’t have to deal with the rest of the family too much. Ransom tends to handle all of their legal issues directly. And Andy? There’s a reason he only works for the Thrombey Family - there hasn’t been a charge that’s stuck since he started working for them.

The Gambler

You nipped that thought right in the bud, focusing your gaze on Steve’s face—his stupidly handsome face—which was contorted into a cold, furious scowl. You couldn’t help but notice that even that expression looked good on him, and you had to force yourself to concentrate on the problem at hand.

Because the frown on Steve’s face wasn’t the one he typically wore in your presence. No, this particularly charming glower was because he’d discovered you in the secret, locked room in his boss’s Brooklyn mansion. The one that housed the mafia boss’s private collection of art, jewels, and other priceless valuables in a cramped maze that looked like an elegant version of a museum’s storage room.

It was a room that you absolutely, one hundred percent, shouldn’t be in. 

But not everything in that room was priceless. The Blue Diamond of Alqualondë would fetch your employer a cool $5.8 million on the black market. All you had to do was retrieve it, steal it away from the mansion and put it in your employer’s hands. Then you’d get the $1 million you were promised…and your debts would be forgiven. Finally.

Giving your head a subtle, impatient shake, you reminded yourself that you didn’t have time to ruminate on the mess you were in. It didn’t matter that you’d been forced to get close enough to a mafia boss to be invited to one of the exclusive parties at his mansion—or that you’d enjoyed your time with the Brooklyn mob boss more than you should’ved.

You had to focus on the problem in front of you. Namely the fiercely protective and extremely dangerous mafia enforcer standing between you and your freedom.

“Would you believe,” you began, sauntering toward Steve and putting a little extra sway in your hips. The gown you wore hugged your curves lovingly, a slit up the side offering teasing views of your bare thigh. It was meant to be a distraction of a dress and it was doing its job. “That I got lost while looking for the bathroom?”

A little zip of satisfaction shot straight down your spine when Steve’s cold, blue eyes dipped briefly to your body, raking quickly over your chest, your hips, your legs, like he couldn’t help himself. But the excitement you felt at getting the man’s attention fizzled when his gaze returned to your face, harder than before.

But you wouldn’t—couldn’t—be deterred. It was imperative that you distract Steve and get him out of the room so you could sneak back later and steal the Blue Diamond of Alqualondë from his boss’s collection. How exactly you’d do that when the enforcer who already didn’t trust you, would be on higher alert? That was a problem for later you.

All you could do was deal with one problem at a time. So you moved closer to the big, intimdating man and slunk into his personal space, placing a hand over the breast pocket of his jacket while you fluttered your lashes at him. 

“This place is just so big and confusing,” you murmured demurely, trying to play the role of damsel in distress while you surreptitiously searched his jacket for something, anything to help you get free. 

But aside from a couple guns in shoulder holsters, all you found were the hard muscles Steve hid beneath his tailored suit. You forced yourself to ignore the twist of attraction in your belly, the melting warmth that sang in your blood, and urged you to do something stupid, something too fucking reckless, even for you. 

It became easier when Steve’s lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist and he stopped your wandering hand in its tracks. He gave you a tight warning squeeze before letting his hands fall and stuffing them in his pockets, making a show of how little of a threat he thought you posed.

“From anyone else, I might believe that excuse,” Steve rumbled, staring down his nose at you. His eyes were like two chips of ice, sending even more cold anxiety down your spine, and it was only your years of practice that kept you from wilting under his angry stare. “But not from you, sweetheart.”

It disturbed you how much you liked hearing Steve call you by that pet name, even if his tone was dripping with disdain as he said it. In your head, you reached for the calm that typically came so easily when you were working a job, but you found it was rapidly depleting. 

There was something about Steve Rogers that left you feeling stripped bare and defenseless, and it took much more effort than usual to gather your charm and clever tactics around you like protective armor. Giving an indignant, offended huff of a laugh, you swatted Steve’s chest like you were old friends.

“You’re so mean to me, Stevie,” you whined in your sweetest, most ingratiating voice, batting your eyes at the scowling enforcer. “I’m just a little lost,” you said, pouting up at him with your most pathetic expression.

At the same time, you pressed closer, your tits brushing against his chest, sending sparks of pleasure rioting in your belly, your nipples tightening beneath the thin, slinky fabric of your dress. It took everything in you to hold back a shiver as desire ran rampant in your body, making you feel hot and achy.

“Cut the shit, sweetheart,” Steve snapped, his anger bleeding over into his tone in a way that made his voice hard and unrelenting. It got you thinking about other things of his that would feel hard and unrelenting and could help soothe the ache between your thighs…

“This room is kept locked, so try again,” Steve growled, leaning in until he was looming above you, using that stupid heigh to his advantage. 

However, the movement also pressed you closer to him, your tits brushing his chest and making your breath hitch as your nipples rubbed against him again. Steve’s eyes dropped to your tits, which were heaving in the low neckline of your dress, in danger of spilling out. 

A sound, like a choked off, hungry growl, rumbled in Steve’s chest, and the air in the room crackled with unresolved tension. It went straight to your head, that sound, and you could feel your brain melting a little at how much pure, undiluted lust was etched into Steve’s handsome face.

For a moment, between one breath and the next, you thought Steve Rogers might kiss you. You were already sagging in relief at the thought, your body sinking deeper into him, your hands pressed flat against the lapels of his jacket, ready to grab him and haul him even closer. 

You knew the kiss would be good. It would be devastating for the both of you, and your body lit up with the anticipation… but the kiss never came.

With a violent jerk of his head, Steve wrenched his gaze from your mouth, where he’d been staring at your lips like they were the answer to all his life’s problems, and he looked past your shoulder, deep into the maze of the room. He swallowed thickly, put some space between your bodies and finally looked back at you. 

When he did, his expression was guarded, and all the lust that had filled his face had been buried deep within the span of a few seconds. All that remained was the distrust that had haunted his blue eyes since you first appeared in his boss’s life. 

“Now, answer me, sweetheart,” Steve rumbled, his voice going infinitesimally softer on the pet name before he continued on. “What were you doing in here?”

The sudden shift in Steve’s mood was effective in waking you up from the lust spell you’d fallen into, and you realized you had one last card to play in an effort to get out of your disastrous situation. It was a long shot—Steve was so loyal to his boss, that it was unlikely he’d betray him for anything—but you had to try.

So you pressed your soft body more deliberately against the hard, unyielding bulk of Steve’s form, taking care to keep your wits about you as you danced your fingers along the line of his jacket. You let your fingertips trace the buttons of his white dress shirt, down to his abdomen, feeling the muscles of his stomach spasm at your touch. 

Steve’s face remained a stony, unforgiving mask as you teased your nails along the hem of his pants, toying with the leather of his belt. You sucked in a breath for courage, emboldened by the bulge brushing against your hip and looked at the handsome mafia enforcer from under your lashes.

“What’ll it take to make you leave and forget you ever saw me in here?” you asked silkily, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you could murmur in Steve’s ear, your breath ghosting tantalizingly against his bearded jaw. “I promise to make it worth your while, sir.” 

You were pressed so close to Steve that you felt his body go rigid at the honorific, his breath rushing out of him like you’d knocked the air out of his lungs. A pleased smirk teased the corners of your lips and you took his reaction as a sign to press your advantage, brushing your hand lower until your fingertips teased along the hard ridge of his cock in his pants.

But before you could cup his bulge through his clothes, Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling it none too gently away from his lap. He yanked so hard on your arm that it put you off balance, and if it wasn’t for Steve’s other hand settling on your hip, his palm a possessive, heated touch, you might’ve tumbled back onto your ass.

“You’re delusional if you thought that would work on me, sweetheart,” Steve growled, the barest hint of teasing in the pet name as it rolled off his tongue.

A shiver skated down your spine, one you weren’t able to temper, and you felt more than saw Steve’s smirk. Using his grip on your wrist and your hip, he drew you closer, and—damn him—your stomach swooped when you felt the hard length of his cock press against your belly. 

It was all you could do to breathe normally and not pant over the hot mafia enforcer like a dog in heat. But that had its downsides, too, because Steve smelled good. Expensive cologne mixed with something dangerous, like gunpowder, and god help you, but you thought you could get high off his scent. 

You were so close to huffing Steve’s scent like a desperate hussy when his hand around your wrist squeezed, making you blink the lust from your gaze and look up at him. A smirk teased around the edges of his mouth and he looked so fucking devastatingly handsome, you wanted to kick him—or kiss him. 

“Tell me what you were doing in here,” Steve rumbled, looming over you once more in a clear attempt to intimidate you into answering. “And who you’re working for. Be honest, be honest—if you’re honest, we might go easy on you.”

At the reference to your employer, your spine went ramrod straight, and panic flooded your mind. You were so distracted by the thought of who’d hired you that you didn’t notice the way Steve’s eyes flicked briefly over your shoulder. Nor did you notice his use of “we” when it was only him in the room. 

As far as you were aware at least.

In the life of a thief, these were the kinds of rookie mistakes that could get you caught, could get you killed. Unfortunately for you, you were too scared of your employer and too off-balance by the closeness of the mafia enforcer, to even realize you’d made such amateur errors. 

You thought you were still in control of the situation, so you huffed an indignant sound and tossed your head, giving the appearance that you were offended by Steve’s words and the implied accusation. 

Tipping your head back, you managed to look down your nose at the taller man as you scrambled for another way out of the room so you could return later for the diamond you’d been hired to steal. It took only a moment for your clever mind to come up with something, even if it wasn’t your best work.

“Your boss told me to meet him here,” you said, latching onto the first excuse you could think of that you hadn’t tried already. It didn’t matter, in your mind, that it probably wouldn’t work. It had to work because you couldn’t disappoint your employer. It wasn’t an option. “He said he wanted to show me something, but I think he just wanted to get me alone.”

It felt stiff and fake, even to you, as you winked at Steve, but using his boss’s attraction to you was your last-ditch effort to get the enforcer to let you go. You just needed his grip to ease up long enough for him to check in with his boss so that you could use the distraction to escape. 

However, you hadn’t accounted for the universe—and the mafia boss and his most trusted enforcer—to be working so expertly against you. 

That time, you did notice when Steve’s gaze moved from your face to something over your shoulder, something deeper in the maze of the mansion’s secret room. Anxiety flooded your body and no matter how much you tried to remain calm, you could feel yourself beginning to panic.

“Is that right?” Steve asked, and despite all your instincts telling you that he wasn’t speaking to you, you opened your mouth to answer him. But he went on before you could. “Did you ask her to meet you here—did you give her your key?”

Your stomach was sinking down to your knees, which were in danger of wobbling as panic consumed your chest, making your heart hammer against your ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage. Your mouth was dry, and for once in your life, you were too stunned to speak. 

You could only watch in horror as Steve’s gaze—cold, blue and knowing—returned to your face, even as he continued speaking to someone else. You had a sneaking suspicion that you already knew who that someone else would turn out to be.

“Or did she pilfer it and sneak in here like the dirty little thief that she is?”

“That depends,” came a voice from behind you—one that was warm and filled with humor, even as it held a dangerous edge. One that you recognized.

It was the voice that belonged to the man of the house, the one you’d spent the past weeks cozying up to so you could steal from him. The one you’d secretly begun to like, along with his loyal enforcer, though that was a secret you planned to take to your grave. Unfortunately, it seemed tha might happen sooner rather than later.

“Does it count as stealing if I let her lift it off me so I could see what she’d do with it?”

Bucky Barnes sauntered into you line of view, shooting you a devastatingly charming grin that made you feel like your panties wanted to melt right off your body. You’d worked hard to ignore your attraction to the Brooklyn mafia boss, but in that moment, you couldn’t deny the way your body responded to him.

With his broad shoulders, bright eyes and towering stature, Bucky was one of the handsomest men you’d ever met. He was hot enough to give Steve a run for his money, and he had the charisma to wield those good looks like a dangerous weapon. You thought you’d been impervious to his hotness and his charms, but in that moment, you realized you weren’t.

Still, it wasn’t until Bucky slid in behind you, curving his big hands possessively around your waist, and caging you in between him and Steve that you realized just how much trouble you were in. Because the whole time you’d been thinking you were conning the head of the Brooklyn mafia and his right-hand man, they had clearly been three steps ahead of you. 

And now you were caught in their trap—literally. You were caught between their big, strong bodies, with nowhere to go and no tricks left up your sleeve. All you had left was to see what they’d do, and hope you could escape with your life, if not with the score that could save you from your employer’s wrath.

The life of a thief wasn’t for the weak, and it was a good thing you were made of stronger stuff than most. You just had to keep your head in the game and not get distracted by Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, and maybe, just maybe, you could still win your freedom.

But too bad for you, that might be easier said than done…

Chapter Four

"This one," Miss Page said, holding up yet another ribbon to contrast the colour with your hair. "This one is perfect."

You'd been distracted all morning — but how could you not be after what had happened last night?

Your mind was torn between the memory of his face, the way he'd kissed you, and the strange pleasure that he'd brought you to, and the way you'd felt when he'd left you all alone.

You were more aware than ever of the sensitive flesh between your thighs. Captain Russo had sparked something inside of you and, even now, hours later, the embers were still burning. That heat was a stark contrast to the empty, icy feeling in your chest.

He'd kissed you, unravelled the part of you that dared to hope for love and romance, and then he'd just left you. The Captain had walked away, leaving you confused and feeling such acute abandonment that it had become a physical ache in your heart. It was enough to make you wonder if he was every bit the scoundrel that your brother and Mr Castle had painted him as.

"She's right, that's a fine colour," Mr Castle stated.

You were on his arm while Miss Page walked freely and unchaperoned as, you had gathered, was the American way. (Oh to be so free.) Miss Page had done most of the talking from the carriage ride to the streets of the city as you shopped. She didn't seem to notice or care that you never had much to say in response.

Mr Castle was putting up a valiant effort to not look bored out of his wits, and tried to involve himself in conversation, though you could tell he thought picking out ribbons was a silly and trivial matter. Still, he made an effort and you wondered if this was supposed to mark the beginning of your arranged courtship.

You didn't ask, of course. It would be mortifying to be told yes just as much as it would if he said no.

"You're right," you said, trying to keep your thoughts confined to the moment. "It's a very fine colour, though... I have nothing to match it.

It was the most you'd said in at least five minutes and Miss Page looked ready to deflate and give up entirely.

"Then perhaps Miss Page and I can help you find something to match?" Mr Castle offered.

Whether it was for your benefit or Miss Page's didn't really matter.

"I'm not sure my brother —"

"I'm certain Ethan would want his sister looking her best, especially for tomorrow night's ball," Miss Page said.

"Tomorrow night —"

"Karen," Mr Castle said in a warning tone, "you know he hasn't agreed to that."

"He hasn't agreed to that yet," Miss Page said before turning her full attention back to you.

After a little more persuasion, you decided to purchase the ribbon and Miss Page promised she wouldn't rest until you had the perfect dress to go with it. Mr Castle was less enthusiastic to be led between dress fitters but it quickly became apparent that there was nothing he would deny Miss Page when she asked nicely enough.

Uncomfortable thoughts from the night before started to resurface as you listened to them talk and laugh with each other. Despite the fact that you were on Mr Castle's arm, it was the American who held his attention, and no amount of feigned interest in your choice of ribbons or dresses would change that.

At least, you supposed, if you did marry Mr Castle, you would only have to put up with feeling like his second choice once a year — or however many times Miss Page chose to visit.

Once you had found your dress, it was Miss Page's turn. And, as it happened, she was far more discerning than you when it came to things like style, colour and cut.

Of course, Mr Castle was more than happy to wait while she tried on dress after dress, and you felt politely obliged not to point out that you hadn't wanted to spend your day in the city stuck indoors.

The shopkeeper offered you chairs while you waited and, for a time, you were content to sit and wait. But the minutes ticked by, and the world outside kept moving. Morning turned to noon and you found yourself looking for a reason to move. There was only so long you could sit and act demure, smiling and nodding every time Mr Castle deigned to make some passing comment to you, no doubt due to his own boredom.

Finally, you struck upon an idea, though it took you a few minutes to act on it.

You stood slowly and glanced out the shop window.

"I noticed there's a bakery across the way," you said as casually as you could. "I was thinking I might go and get a sweet bun while Miss Page finishes her fitting."

Though you were a full grown woman, you found yourself bracing for his refusal, demanding that you sit and stay. Instead he raised an eyebrow and followed your gaze towards the window. For a second you thought he might offer to escort you, then he shrugged.

"Don't wander too far," Mr Castle warned. "Your brother wouldn't be happy if I lost you."

You couldn't tell if he was joking but you still offered up a polite laugh and wasted no time in heading for the door.

Outside, you breathed a sigh of relief, glad to finally —

Any and all thought stopped dead the second you saw him standing across the street, looking at you, watching you. Captain Russo. His expression softened and he offered what you might think was a shy smile if you didn't know better. Then, with a nod of his head, he directed you towards a little side street before vanishing down it.

You considered for a moment, remembering the ache he'd left you with last night. Perhaps it would be best if you avoided him, only... how would he know that you were avoiding him if you didn't at least tell him as much? It seemed only right and proper to let him know and, hopefully, put an end to whatever madness had possessed the pair of you in the library.

Through the window, you could see that Mr Castle's attention was firmly with Miss Page, so you started across the street, giving only a brief cautious glance behind before slipping into the side street.

His hand was on your arm before you could so much as gasp, pulling you away from the hustle and bustle of the main street and away from prying eyes. You found yourself turned to face him, and you couldn't tell if the pounding in your chest was for him or because of the precarious situation he'd put you in.

If anyone was to catch the two of you together like this...

"I wanted to see you," he said, fingers still lingering on your arm.

"Your brother is just across the street." It wasn't what you wanted to say, but it seemed prudent to remind him.

"I know." His head hung forward. "You have no idea what it does to me to see you on his arm, paraded around as if he won you."

"He's just being a gentleman."

A bitter laugh tore from the Captain. "If he was being a gentleman he wouldn't have let you out of his sight. His attention would be entirely on you, instead he chose to stay with Karen."

"I don't need an escort to get sweet buns," you remarked indignantly, choosing to ignore the comment about Miss Page.

"No, because you're a free spirit like me," he said, smiling.

He cupped your cheek and, despite wanting nothing more than to lean into his touch, you shrank back. The Captain frowned and tried again. This time you took a step away.

"Have I done something to upset you? If I've offended you, you must know that it wasn't my intention," he said as he countered your step backwards with a step of his own.

Your cheeks burned with shame, unable to put into words what you had hoped he already understood. While you weren't entirely sure what had happened last night, you knew how it had felt when he'd left you alone and trembling with a bitter pleasure.

"I'm not a toy for your amusement, Captain," you said.

You took a step to the left, trying to move around him. He mirrored your movement and blocked your path. Then you stepped right and, still, he refused to let you pass.

"Is that what you think you are to me? A toy? An amusement?"

You shied away as he reached for you again, but his fingers still found your cheek and tenderly brushed a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. He held you in place with just his gaze, and your heart stuttered as you got lost in his dark eyes.

"You had your fun, then you left me," you confessed in a voice so small it hardly sounded like your own. "What happened last night could destroy my reputation — everything you've done so far could destroy my reputation — and you don't even seem to care."

He was silent for a beat, his throat working as he swallowed down the truth.

"I left to protect you.' He leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours, words little more than a whisper.

"Protect me from what?" You asked, lowering your voice to match his as if the moment was too fragile for raised voices.

"From me."

It was infuriating how little the answer gave you. It felt like a baited trap, an attempt to use your curiosity to snare you.

"If you wish to protect me from your... urges, then perhaps you should keep your distance, Captain." you said, finally remembering why you'd followed him in the first place. "It seems all we're capable of doing is causing each other distress. So, I suggest we stay away from each other from now on."

You had wanted to sound more resolute, more certain, but how could you when he was looking at you like his world began and ended with you?

You barely knew him. Even if your afternoon wandering the grounds of Netherton was the longest you'd ever spent alone in the company of an eligible man, there were still so many things you didn't know, things that you wanted to know about him.

"I would if I could," he said, cupping your cheek again. This time you didn't pull away. "Compared to my brother, I have nothing to offer you — no fortune, no comfortable future, and your brother would oppose me courting you — but, still, I find myself drawn to you.

He leaned closer and you braced yourself for a kiss that never came. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.

"I wish I could explain it," he said softly, "I wish there was a way to make you understand..."

"Understand, what?"

"The connection I feel to you, how you feel like a splash of colour in an otherwise grey world..."

The words made your heart flutter and your own eyes close. It was like something out of one of the romantic poems you so loved, and you wished that you could just accept it without reservation. But there were too many questions, too many doubts in your mind.

"We hardly know each other," you said.

"Courtships have started from less."

He was right, but you weren't courting the Captain. You couldn't. Not when you were all but promised to Mr Castle.

"He doesn't see you," the Captain continued. "He only sees your brother's burden, he —"

"Burden?"

Is that how he saw you? Was that how they all saw you? Ethan's burdensome sister, so close to becoming a spinster, so unwanted.

You tried to shove him away, but he barely moved. When you slammed your hands against his chest a second time, he caught you by the wrists and pinned your arms against the wall on either side of your head. You twisted in his grasp, trying to escape but not once considering screaming. You wanted to get away from him, but you didn't want to get him into any kind of trouble.

More than anything you wanted to get away from him because you hoped your walking away would pain him the way his words had pained you.

"Stop," he said. "Please — I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what did you mean, Captain? How could I possibly be expected to take your words any other way?" You tried to force a measured tone, but there was no hiding the hurt. "Do you think I don't know how my brother sees me? How men like you see me? An unmarried woman of my age?"

"No, that's not what I meant," he said in a voice as close to pleading as he could muster.

"Do you think this is the life I wanted for myself? To be foisted onto my brother's oldest friend and —"

His lips slanted over yours, silencing you. Like every other kiss you'd shared, it was sudden enough to stun you, and once it started — once you felt the desperation behind it — you found it impossible to remember why you'd been angry with him in the first place.

He kept hold of your wrists, but all the fight drained from you in an instant.

As much as you hated it, you wanted to be wanted by him. You wanted to pretend that the things he'd told you could be real, if only for this snatched moment.

"You are not the burden," he muttered against your lips. "He is. He always has been."

You weren't given time to ask what Captain Russo meant. His lips crashed into yours again and you were left feeling like you might float away. The he was clearly Ethan, but what burdens did your brother have?

It was hard to care when the Captain was stealing the very breath from your lungs, kissing you like he may never get to again. And... there was a part of you that felt vindicated for all the thoughts you'd had about your brother and the way he lived. Finally, you'd found someone who saw Ethan as you did.

But time was not on your side and the Captain knew it.

The kiss broke and his head dropped to your shoulder.

"Captain..."

"William," he corrected.

"I... I can't," you said softly. "They'll be missing me."

"I'll miss you."

Your heart lurched at the rawness in his tone. It made no sense how he could unravel you with so few words, but it was almost enough to make you want to linger a little longer. But even he seemed to realise how that was a bad idea.

He released your wrists but you didn't put your hands down, instead you tenderly held his face and stared into his eyes, trying to make sense of him.

"I don't understand you," you said.

"I know, but I hope that one day you will." He gave you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before taking a step back. "You should go. I'll see you tonight at dinner."

He took another step, and left you aching to reach for him and steal just one more moment, but you'd tarried long enough.

Though, as it happened, by the time you'd slipped from the side street and into the bakery to purchase a sweet bun, and then returned to the dress makers, you were barely noticed. And, for the next half hour, you sat in silence beside Mr Castle, staring longingly out of the window, hoping for one little glimpse of the Captain.

But, of course, you didn't.

Instead you had to make do with the promise that you'd see him at dinner. Giddy sort of thrill filled you as the hours ticked by, wanting to be near him again.

But he wasn't at dinner.

You arrived in the dining room first and took a seat, patiently waiting for everyone else. Mr Castle appeared first, then Miss Page, and finally Ethan. They sat and food was served.

"Is the Captain not dining with us tonight?" You dared to ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"My brother has business to attend to," Mr Castle answered between mouthfuls.

"Business?" Remarked Ethan with a snort. "Is that what he's calling his women these days?"

Mr Castle shot him a warning look and you did your best to ignore the sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"What? We all know the man has no morals — you should know that better than anyone, Frank," Ethan continues.

"There are ladies present," Mr Castle.

"You always think the worst of him," Miss Page said.

"Because he's only ever given us reason to think the worst."

"You're not still sore about him breaking your nose, are you?" Mr Castle asked. "It was over fifteen years ago, Ethan."

"You never did tell me why he broke your nose," Miss Page added.

You remembered Ethan coming home from school with a black eye and a healed nose at the end of term. You remembered your mother fussing and your father writing a letter to the school, demanding the boy responsible faced the harshest punishment. You also remembered hearing that the other boy was expelled, though it wasn't clear whether it had been over that incident.

You were silent as the conversation continued on; Ethan didn't offer up much of an explanation, just that he had called the Captain out for being a scoundrel and it had ended in a fight. Whenever they spoke of the Captain, it didn't sound like the man you knew — but, then, you had to concede that you really didn't know him. Not like they did.

After dinner, you excused yourself but, on the way to your room, you felt a strange pull towards the library, the faintest spark of hope still burning within you. If you could see him, you could ask him about what Ethan had revealed and try to find the truth of the matter.

Unfortunately, you found the library empty.

You lingered for almost an hour before giving up hope that he would magically appear and silence all the questions in your head. But, as you went to leave the library, you heard voices in the corridor.

"You've been at Netherton with him before," Miss Page said.

You peered through a crack in the doorway and caught sight of her red hair.

"That was without my sister." Ethan.

"What difference does that make?"

"I don't want him to ruin things for her — for me," your brother said. "He has form for seducing young women, especially young women who've been promised to someone else. And it wouldn't be the first time he's bedded a woman to hurt Frank."

"Is that what happened fifteen years ago? Is that why they don't speak?"

If Ethan gave an answer, you didn't hear it.

"I won't let him ruin my sister just to hurt me and Frank," Ethan said after a lengthy silence. "Frank says he's no doubt squandered his inheritance, and I don't want him seducing my sister for her money. Lord knows she’s silly enough to fall for it, what with all her notions of romance. She’d be an easy mark for a man like Russo..."

Their voices faded the further they got from the library and, while a part of you wanted to dismiss everything said as just Ethan being Ethan. He'd never had a kind word to say about anyone, always ready to judge and point out their worst traits while remaining oblivious to his own. But there was more going on than what you'd been able to discover, some deeper mystery that seemed to exist between Ethan, Mr Castle and the Captain.

If you were going to continue to find yourself in scandalous situations with the man, you were going to have to find out just how bad the truth was.

That is, if you even ever saw him again...

A/N : I'm toying with the idea of maybe doing shorter chapters like this for a while if it means I can start posting regularly again -- it's honestly driving my crazy not having a schedule at the moment but between work, the dog, and the fact that it hit 32 degrees c here this week, I'm on the struggle bus atm. Next week is stock take at work too, which is going to be an ordeal but, hopefully after that my hours will go back to normal. Anyway, hope you like this chapter and that if you're experiencing a heatwave where you are that you remember to stay hydrated!

New chapters will hopefully be posted weekly (I'm being kinder to myself an not imposing such a strict deadline with this one). Let me know if you want to be tagged.

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

Tag list : @oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18

@danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @marginailia @stressedbff

You sit there in the clubhouse, sipping alcohol-free beer and doing notes for work, while Steve talks with some of his bikers. It’s become almost a routine now to come to the Dark Avengers’ pub after work on Fridays. Other days appear more normal, more domestic, but only on the veneer because your new home isn’t the one you lived in for the past years. Your new home is full of Steve’s presence and your blooming attempts to grow your own roots there.

You refuse to call it acceptance, because you hate how it all came to be and you're still afraid, but you’re adjusting. Learning yourself anew, as well as learning Steve. 

By now you know his tells enough to recognize the shift in him that day. Something’s under his skin, though it doesn’t appear to be anger. It takes you a few minutes of glancing his way from the corner of your eye and focusing on the way his thumb presses into your thigh, to realize he’s horny. 

Though that expression seems so bland and unfitting for the intensity of Steve’s arousal.

He’s not handsy, he doesn’t make innuendos or flirts you up. He strategizes, building his need to a point where he can spend hours unleashing it. 

Steve's attention is masterfully divided. He runs the conversation with Sam so smoothly, yet keeps looking at you in a way that betrays he's planning every single position he will take you in.

His hand rests on your thigh. A possessive brand. He doesn't need to move it under your skirt to give you a sign that in a few minutes you're going to be wrecked and screaming. By now, your body reacts to his touch eagerly. 

You’d prefer to say you were conditioned, but the way he made you fall apart that first time he took you is proof enough of how naturally responsive you are to his dark, filthy tricks.

Steve simply finishes his discussion, then places a hand on top of yours - stopping you mid writing a sentence in your notepad. He stands up and you know you should too. It's his graciousness that he allows you to go upstairs to the spare guest bedroom and fuck without people watching.

However, if you take too long to comply, he will do it right there on the table.

Not a quick, brutal thing either. Oh no, he'd deliberately make you feel so good, stretch it out, make you beg for all the filthy pleasure in front of all of the present Dark Avengers.

So it's best to follow his lead and go upstairs. He might suddenly pick you up and carry you, simply out of the fact he really wants to feel you in his arms, against his body. 

You never admit it out loud, but a zap of thrill shoots through you whenever he does that. Your husband showed you appreciation and worship in his own ways, but was never able to carry or manhandle you so easily.

Not rushing things like a wild animal doesn't mean Steve fucks you gently and tenderly. His commands grow harsher, urging you to take off your clothes before he rips them off.

He sits on the edge of the bed and makes you kneel before him. His hand is heavy and ruthless in the way he holds your head down as you try to swallow as much of his fat cock as possible; drooling and choking and tearing up. And hating how your core ignites with pleasure from the dirty act.

Steve watches it all in the mirrored wardrobe that's opposite of the bed. He notices the occasional rocking of your hips as you fight the growing need to be filled.

He rips you off of him and yanks you up to straddle his thighs. Makes you slide down on his cock in one stinging stretch. He urges you to ride him, giving you a spank every time he wants you to move faster.

Mouth on your breasts, sucking and biting until you're clenching so desperately. One hand in your hair, either pulling your head back when he wants to leave bite marks on your neck, or forcing you to look at him and hold his hungry gaze as you take it all like an obedient fucktoy.

He makes you look at him when you shatter with a soft scream. Fucks harder up into you, making you make those little whimpering noises.

"That's it, Cornflower. Such a beautiful fucktoy coming all over my cock."

Then the hand that was spanking and groping your ass slides down, gathers the sticky evidence of your orgasm on his fingers. The pressure of those wet fingers against your rim makes you tense, but you know better than to stop rolling your hips and meeting his hard thrusts. 

He finishes inside you right after you come for the second time, with two of his fingers deep in your ass. But Steve's not done. His need runs too deep, too hot.

He'll spread you out on the bed and kiss and maul all over your body, savoring the way you moan and desperately clutch at your surroundings - the bed sheets, your own hair, him. When you cry out futile protests as his mouth descends on your cunt and he sees the mess leaking out of your fluttering hole, Steve's dick stands to full attention again.

He gets off the bed for a moment. Satisfied conqueror that’s still not fully sated. He towers over you and watches your trembling body with dark pride. And more hunger.

Purposely, he walks to the door and opens it a fraction.

Then he's back to you, rolling you onto your side so that you're facing the door. He slides behind you, pulls one of your legs up and over his thigh. Then slowly - a mercy from him, truly - starts pushing his cock into your ass.

“Nnhhh-” you tense, toes curling as the pressure grows nearly unbearable.

"Be a good fucktoy." Steve commands in a low, breathy voice, curling his other hand around your neck.

When he's halfway in and you feel like he might split you open, the hand that was around your neck drifts lower. He starts playing with your clit, making your whole body shudder.

"That's it, Cornflower." He coos, petting your cunt. "You're going to take it all. And my sweet pussy is going to prove to me how much you like having your ass full of cock."

Your gaze flicks toward the ajar door, but your focus blurs. There's too much overwhelming sensation. Which Steve increases with every slide of his fingers, every inch forced into your tight hole, every word he rasps.

"Come on it like a good cockslut and I'll fill you up." His rhythm quickens. Faster. Harder.  "Then I'll take you home and fuck my pussy some more. Have you bloated with my seed until morning."

A floorboard creaks somewhere. You can't even be sure that anyone's walking this way. But the rush of fear and potential humiliation pairs with the onslaught of sensations.

You clench down hard, creaming all over Steve's fingers. Your cry is pitched high, choked with breathlessness from the forceful thrusts brutally stretching your ass as he mercilessly chases his own peak.

Your pussy tightens even harder when you feel the warm spurts filling you.

"My perfect cumdump." Steve's dirty words are spoken so softly, and paired with a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

A contrast to the way he just fucked you.

He wraps both arms around you, holding you tight and intimately. While his cock is still throbbing in your ass and your used holes are still on display for anyone who might appear in the hallway.

No amount of makeup will cover the marks on your neck and chest, and Steve won't allow you to wear a scarf or turtleneck. He wants everyone to know you're his. Most of all, loves that you are reminded of his ownership with every glance in the mirror, every curious look from others, every movement that flares with the imprint of his cock inside you.

You went barefoot, toes digging in the mud, and thought that the strange itch developing under your skin was maybe not so strange, not in the grand scheme of things.

Curtis said your body would change. Maybe you had outgrown your skin and your home, until the only thing left to do was to come here and wait to be collected. The urge was stronger than ever, and you could no longer resist, only yield.

The waterline was lower than you remembered, the silt and reeds exposed in the flickering starlight. You waded in ankle-deep, sinking, sensing the soft sucking of the mud as it accepted your feet. The air was loud with crickets, the occasional splash of fish, the far-off call of some night bird. The moon was gone, but the stars provided enough light to see the expanse of the lake, sprawling out imposingly.

And yet the lapping of the water around your ankles soothed in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks. You’ve felt dry in your skin, and these last days even your veins feel like hollowed-out reeds beneath the surface.

It had been eighty-three days since Curtis climbed through your window, the second night he filled you with his seed. It had been one hundred and twenty-three days since the night he claimed your body and pumped you with pleasure and with his spend all night, marked you in ways no mother’s salve could erase, left you shivering on the shore, his seed rooted in your womb.

You kept going, wading past the reeds and the brambles, the hem of your nightdress dragging through the shallows, soaking up moonless water and pond scum.

Even now, you told yourself you’re out here only to see the stars, but you knew you were lying.

The changes in your body had become more pronounced and less deniable. Soon you would no longer be able to hide the swell of your belly, blossoming with the taut dome of new life. The skin had grown soft but oddly cold, even through the high summer.

Your eyes started to reflect light in a way that makes children in the street shy away from your gaze. Your sister, ever helpful, insisted you were simply tired, that the sleepless nights were just exhaustion from your job at the bakery, the endless cycles of flour and heat, the constant lifting and kneading. Your sister believed what she said, but you sensed her growing unease—the way she looked at your belly with furtive suspicion, the way she muttered prayers when she thought you could not hear.

Curtis has not returned. The absence of him was a wound that festered.

You thought, in the aftermath, that Curtis would return often, if not every night. You thought he would haunt your window, your dreams, your shadows. But he was true to his word: he gave you space. There were nights you sat up in the window seat, knuckles white on the wood, waiting to see the gleam of blue scales or the shimmer of his eyes, and nothing appeared but the unbroken dark. Sometimes you convinced yourself this was a mercy, a kindness, and that you hadn’t wanted any of it to begin with. Other nights, you pressed your face to the glass and called his name softly into the silence the night, and the longer he hasn’t come, the more your spirit has withered.

Surely he hadn’t abandoned you.

He had seemed so insistent.

And yet… he was not here, and you were, and inside you the child of him grew steadily, unerringly, as night follows the tides. The thought left you hollow, as if your body had already begun to be carved away by the thing inside it, making you less yourself with each passing week. You felt it now, even as you shivered in the shallows; a dull, aquatic ache that stretched through your hips and lower belly, encompassing all that you were meant to be, and all that you no longer were.

There was only the wind and the water, and you, marooned between them. No answers. Only a hunger, like a current, dragging you under.

You stood, shivering in your thin shift, despite the cloak around your shoulders, and waited.

Waited for—

You didn’t know.

But after some time, you trekked back to the shore. Your body seemed to know where it wanted you to go, and you are not surprised to find yourself back near the trees where it all began, where he both ravished and worshipped your body.

You crouched into the hollow of trees and planted yourself at the base of the trunk. It was humid and close under the branches, the sweet, sharp tang of decaying leaves pressed into the earth, and beneath that, the mineral wet of the lake. You pulled your knees to your chest and listened for footsteps, for anything, but in the night the whole world was quieted to only the whisper of leaves, your own uneven breathing, and the persistent lap of water against the shore.

Though you were well-hidden, there was a break in the trees that gave you a view of the lake. You watched as the surface quivered, reflecting back the warped face of the stars, and you wondered if you were supposed to do something more. If there was a ritual to summon him, or if all of this—the ache, the hunger, the uncertainty—was part of the summoning. You dropped your face into your knees and breathed deeply, searching for any scent of him, any hint that Curtis still lingered on the edges of this world. All you tasted was old wood and lake rot and something soft and almost metallic—a scent that felt like memory.

If you closed your eyes, you could remember the weight of his hands on your skin, the dark press of his body against yours, the way his voice was both threat and comfort. You wanted to hate him for what he did, for what he made of you, but you couldn’t. Not when your own body, traitorous and tender, mourned him even as it craved his presence.

The ache spiked, sharper this time, radiating from the place where your child grew. It was not pain, exactly. More an insistence, like a call you were unable to answer. You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. But as the night wore on, your body loosened, drooped, gave into sleep—one of the things it had long been craving.

Something woke you in the deep hours, something more than cold or discomfort. You peeled yourself off the ground, stiff and numb, leaned against the tree trunk, and then instantly sensed the difference in the air. It was charged, vibrating with static, and the reeds at the water’s edge were shivering where no wind stirred them. Your heart stammered, your mouth tasted copper, and for a moment you were sure you were only dreaming.

Curtis was there, just outside the ring of trees that sheltered you. He stood perfectly motionless at the water’s edge, as if he’d been carved from the dark itself, a shadow with a suggestion of scales and the faintest luminescence tracing the lines of his body. His eyes shone out of his face, impossibly blue, fixed on you with a ferocity so wild and so focused it made you flinch. You had not heard him arrive. You wondered how long he’d been standing there, waiting for you to open your eyes.

You found that you are not afraid, not in the way you expected. It was something else, a tension like a drawn bow. His tail was flicking behind him, the tip slicing dangerous curves through the humid air.

He moved toward you in an unhurried, even elegant way, each step deliberate, his weight barely imprinting the mud despite his hulking form, so much larger than a human man’s. He didn’t speak; you realized suddenly that he never had to. He only needed to look at you, and your body would answer.

He took your face in his hands—not soft, not gentle, but not cruel either, and tilted your head so he could look into your eyes. You saw the hunger there, a desperation that matched your own, but also a grief, and something nearly like relief.

He didn’t ask permission. He didn’t even speak. His lips crashed into yours, sharp and cold and tasting of brine. It was nothing like human kisses, but you leaned in, lips parting, swallowing the taste of him, that deep, mineral tang, the way his teeth scraped across your lower lip. When he broke off, you gasped for air, surprised at how much of your hunger was for oxygen and how much for something else entirely. His tail snapped up behind you, coiling around your back and waist, pinning you to him so you could not slip away even if you wanted to.

You shivered, but it wasn’t from cold. A sound escaped you, a wet, hungry sob, and your arms went around his shoulders before you could think better of it. You expected roughness; you found yourself enveloped, cradled against a chest so wide and firm that you could hardly breathe for the way it trapped the air in your lungs. He held you like a cherished and broken thing, and you felt the hardness of his excitement against your hip, the way it pressed through both your clothes and his. The scent of him, seawater and something sweetly corrupt, filled your nose, and you worried, briefly, that you would drown on land.

His hands went to your shoulders, then your arms, then he pulled the damp cloak from your body and let it drop to the forest floor. He was more impatient with your shift, ripping the collar so the rest of the garment could fall away and pool at your feet. The shock of air on your bare skin made you gasp, but you didn’t try to cover yourself. Curtis bent down and sniffed you, pressing his face into the hollow where your neck and shoulder met.

He inhaled deeply, pulled a low, vibrating groan from somewhere in the cage of his chest, and just like that, you were entirely, murderously desperate for him, for the feeling of his mouth and the slick pressure of his tongue, for the pain of his teeth and the searing cold of his hands sliding up your thighs. His breath fogged against your skin, cool and alive, and just hearing the ragged need in it was enough to make your knees threaten mutiny.

“Curtis,” you managed, syllables fractured and spilling out before you could stop them.

He growled, the sound vibrating through your chest, resonant and urgent. His claws grazed your shoulders as he shrugged the cloak away from you, letting it slide to the ground where it slumped darkly into the leaf mold. His hands found your waist, spanning it with impossible ease, and then his palms moved, mapping the curvature of your ribs, your breasts, then down, down, his fingers raking over your belly. He lingered on your midsection, ran his knuckles with surprising care over the curve of it, fascination and triumph wrestling for dominance in his gaze.

His hands encircled your belly and held there, as though placing a spell, or as though he expected the child to respond to his pulse. Maybe it did. You thought you felt it, some answering quiver, and you tried not to flinch. You shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t want him, but when his mouth found your collarbone you choked on nothing, a breathless exhale that turned into a moan.

His mouth was cold against your skin but his tongue wet and shockingly warm, as if the heat of desire tunneled underneath his icy exterior, a core of molten need blazing inside him. Teeth pressed, not quite biting, then scraped a line along your clavicle, leaving a trail of sensation so bright it bordered on pain. Your hands went, almost stupidly, to his biceps: smooth, firm, scaled over in patches, reminding you he belonged to the lake.

Your stomach ached, low and deep, with a hunger you refused to call by name. You wanted this, you wanted him, you wanted him to take you apart, fill you until your bones dissolved, until the self you’d been before dissolved in the brine of his touch.

His lips found your throat and sucked until you thought you were being hollowed out, all feeling compressed to the bright ring where his mouth met your skin. His hands splayed at your ass, cupping and kneading, moving you against him until you both groaned in time, a shared, strangled note that seemed to ring out over the water.

He barely bothered to undress himself, simply tore away the layers of sodden cloth as if they were nothing, exposing his torso and hips until the heat of him seared into you. His cock, thick and strange and ridged with whorls of blue-black skin, already pulsed against your thigh. He backed you up against the trunk of the tree and pinned you there, one massive arm braced next to your head, and dipped his head to your chest.

His tongue rasped along the curve of your breast, a wet, hungry line, and when his teeth found your nipple, you cried out, the sound trapped between your tongue and his. He bit, just hard enough to mark, then soothed it with that impossible tongue, flicking and sucking until your head spun and a firecracking ache tethered itself from breast to cunt.

His hand was already between your legs before you could breathe out his name, and his fingers--long, ridged, preternaturally strong--slid through the wetness between your thighs. He pressed in, tasted how ready you were, and when he drew his hand away, he brought two glistening fingers to his mouth and licked them clean with a noise so greedy, so hungry, it made your core tighten almost painfully.

“The desperate smell of your want was intoxicating enough, little one,” he growled, “but your taste?”

His claws sank into the flesh of your hips and he yanked you off your feet, spinning you so fast your head swam. You landed, hands and knees in the leaf mulch, your bare ass exposed to the night and to him, your thighs smeared with your own want. His grip found your shoulder and pressed you down, arching your back, planting you so firmly into the earth you could feel the cool dampness rising through your palms and shins. You didn’t fight when he spread your legs wider. If anything, you shuddered in relief, because this, this was what you needed.

His breath was a frigid fog against your skin, and then the blunt, slick head of his cock was nudging at your entrance, so wide it seemed impossible to take him. You whimpered against the moss, torn between terror and a nearly painful anticipation. Though he had your entrance amply slick with your own arousal, the size of him was still enough to make you gasp when he breached you, slow and relentless. You felt yourself stretch, felt the ache of it, but he did not yield.

He slid in further, relentless, unyielding, and your entire body shuddered around the breach. You scrambled for purchase, fingers digging furrows in the loam, and then his hand was at the base of your spine, stroking small, slow circles in a semblance of comfort.

“Look at you,” he growled, voice low in your ear as he bottomed out with a shudder that rocked you forward. “You were made for me. You fit like a custom-forged scabbard, little one. I could breed you a thousand times and never get tired of the way you clench around me.”

His cock pulsed inside you, impossibly thick, and every subtle drag and shift of his hips sent a shiver through your entire body. He held you there, immovable, his weight pinning you to the mud and leaf litter, fucking into you with a slow, brutal rhythm that left you gasping every time he drove home. Each thrust felt like it would split you, stretch you beyond your limit, and each time you bent, pliant, desperate to be filled further, to be ruined in the same way again and again.

His tail wrapped around your left ankle, hoisting the leg upward and outward, so you were splayed wide, offered to him and the lake and the night. He leaned forward, his chest pressing between your shoulders, bent over you, mouth at your ear now, voice ragged and low. “Little one,” he growled, “I will never let you forget how you felt this night. No matter how many times I take you, I’ll always want to take you again.”

You didn’t bother to hide your noises now; any vestige of shame was gone, burned away by the friction and fullness and the way his hands gripped you with such claiming certainty. You felt yourself dripping down your thighs, making a mess of the ground beneath, and you thought it fitting, to mark the earth as you were marked, to leave nothing untouched by him.

“If the lake had not insisted on a bloodline to restore balance, I would have demanded it. You are the only thing I want in all this world, and every drop of you belongs to me.”

He fucked you harder, faster, driving you into the ground with abandon. Each thrust made you whine, made your elbows buckle and your head drop forward, hair stuck to your face with sweat and dew. He reached around and slid two fingers to your clit, rubbing in tight, ruthless circles that sent the world spinning white-hot.

You came so hard your vision narrowed to a single bright point. Your limbs splayed and trembled, nails sinking into the dirt and your ass bucking up to meet every brutal blow, savoring the way it forced you open, greedily cradling his cock to the hilt with every cycle. Curtis growled so low and animal it vibrated the whole length of you, and his hands tightened on your hips, guiding you, fucking you back onto him, making sure you took every last centimeter his body offered.

You wanted to scream with it. You wanted to howl his name so loud they’d hear it in every village around the lake. But you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but let him use you, let the rhythm of his rutting into you become the only pulse that mattered. All sense of the world dropped away, and there was only the slap of skin, the wet, hungry noises of your cunt taking his cock, the raw, animal sound of your own voice every time the head of him pressed so deep it made your belly ache.

Curtis—no longer the stranger, never just the creature—was everything: the air, the ache, the axis about which you spun. Every time he slurred your name into your ear, mangling the syllables with his animal tongue, a fresh ripple shuddered through you. He rutted you in the dirt, rutting away the remnants of your old life, seeding you so deeply you could feel it pooling hot inside where the child already grew.

He never relented. Even as your body tried to collapse, he pinned you, forced you to take more, forced you beyond your own edge, made it impossible to know where you ended and he began. He held you through it, every time you tried to shudder or twitch away, his hands locked your hips exactly where he needed them, pulling on the strings of want and need until you unspooled every last thread, the tip of his tail tormenting your throbbing clit.

If you had thought yourself hollowed by his absence, you were now made whole by his invasion, every place inside you mapped and remade by him, by this act of mating, of possession. He bit the back of your neck, just at the nape, so hard you cried out and the sound split the night open, echoing off the trees and out to the water, where every living thing had to know what he was doing to you. The air rang with your sounds, and the taste of copper and earth and salt was on your tongue, and you felt the sharp crackle of him biting through the flesh just enough to breach the skin, a mark so carnal it would never fade. You wanted to be marked. You wanted to be his—no, you were his, and always would be, because some part of you had never belonged to anything else, and he simply reminded your body whose it was.

And then he came. You felt it, the flood of cold and the clutching, almost electrical pulse. His cock throbbed inside you, filling you even as you clenched and spasmed around him, milked every last drop of his seed so there could be no doubt, none, what your purpose was. He stayed like that, locked to you, fused to your body as if he could keep you in place for the rest of eternity by the sheer force of want. All up your spine, his scales left the faintest scratch, the imprint of his cooler body temperature, a memory of friction that anointed you as singularly his. Curtis kept you there, cock still embedded in you, his weight almost comforting, the way he spread over you like a shield against the cold and the dark and anything else that could try to threaten you.

Eventually, he shifted, rolling you gently onto your back as though conscious of your fragility. His cock slid from your body with a raw, slippery sound, and you felt some of his spend leak from your fluttering cunt, soaking the ground beneath you.

He hovered over you, gaze unblinking, so close you could see the reflection of your own trembling, ruined face in his eyes. The hard line of his body pressed you flat to the earth, and you felt every inch of him, every scale and muscle, the brutal weight of his presence. He let his hands roam your stomach and your hips, drawing slow, reverent circles, memorizing the curves of your form that he already knew too intimately. For a moment, you thought he was going to say something soft, something almost human. Instead, his mouth settled by your ear and he said, voice stripped to its essential hunger, “You come with me now.”

His tail curled around your thigh, not as a threat but as a matter-of-fact assertion of what would happen next. You were dizzy from the way he’d taken you, your cunt still raw and throbbing.

He lifted you, all at once, as if you weighed nothing. You were limp in his arms, boneless from the waves of pleasure, trailing wetness and ruin as he carried you back to the water. It should have been cold, but when the lake closed around your body it was only a relief, a soft, enveloping embrace that soothed the raw places. He held you afloat, one powerful arm under your knees, the other bracing your back, until your eyes unblurred and you could see his face above you, illuminated by the briefest shimmer of phosphorescence off the water. His eyes were luminous, impossible in the dark.

He kissed you again, more gently this time, and you let your head fall against his chest. He began to swim, slow and tireless, propelling you through the black, star-pocked surface and into the heart of the lake.

Hope you enjoyed a bit of monster-fucking Monday.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

As a child, those nights in the window had been frequent, both of you enchanted with the water and with the sky of stars and the moonlight. You had never given up the practice entirely, but as you’d both grown, sleeping hours had grown more appreciated. 

But now you sat up again far too late every night looking out over the water. 

Where he came from. 

There were old stories told about creatures in the mountains, in the forest, in the lake, under the bed, in the closet, living in the attic… too many cautionary tales told keep children in line and to grow up wisely. 

But now that you knew there was at least one man from the lake, you wondered how much of at least his folklore was true, and how much more you didn’t yet know. 

And, most importantly, how much would affect you.

Because you had been enormously affected by him already.

Foolishly lured away from the safety of others along the shoreline, snatched by a bolotnik, your virginity not only taken, but your body used, ruined, and exploited for pleasure all night. For by the end of it all, you could not deny you had succumbed to the pleasure he wrought from you, even though he was still terrifying.

And so you watched each night from your window, unsure what to do.

You couldn't shake the memory of his touch, the way he had made you feel things you'd never imagined. Each night as you gazed out at the dark waters, a part of you hoped to see those mesmerizing lights dancing on the surface again.

But weeks passed with no sign of him. You began to wonder if it had all been some fevered dream. Yet your body remembered - the soreness between your legs, the marks on your skin that had slowly faded. And there was something else, a change you couldn't quite place.

Your courses didn't come. Panic rose in your throat when you realized what that likely meant. But there was a chance his seed hadn’t taken. Your bleeding had come late or not come at all before. And it had taken your sister a fair amount of time until she had born her first child while diligently trying with her husband.

Still, you placed a hand on your belly, wondering if there was new life growing inside you. The child of a monster. Your child.

Though it was the water your eyes relentlessly looked to, a flash of movement in the trees drew your gaze. Heart pounding, you peered at the edge of the forest near your family’s home. For a long moment, nothing stirred. Then you saw it - movement among the underbrush.

A shadow detached itself from the trees, moving with an unnatural grace. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the hulking form of Curtis. He emerged into a patch of moonlight, his scales glinting, eyes fixed on your window.

Your heart raced. For a moment, you froze, unsure what to do. Part of you wanted to flee, to wake your family and raise the alarm. But another part, a part you were ashamed to acknowledge, felt a thrill of excitement at seeing him again.

Before you could decide, he was striding forward, pausing only for a moment at the edge of your family’s property, those eerie, impossibly bright, blue eyes fixed on your window. Then he continued forward. Even from a distance, you could see the way his muscles rippled as he moved. His tail swished behind him, hypnotic in its motion.

Your breath caught in your throat as the creature approached your home. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to hide, to call for help. But you remained frozen, transfixed by his otherworldly presence.

In mere moments, he had scaled the side of your house with inhuman agility. His clawed hands gripped the windowsill as he peered inside, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours.

Without him prompting you, you pushed the window open.

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

"Did you miss me, little one?" he purred, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You almost balked at the term because anyone is little compared to him, but you couldn't find your voice to respond even if you'd wanted in that instant. Your body trembled, caught between fear and a shameful excitement.

With fluid grace, he slipped through the window and past you into your room. He towered over you, his massive form larger than you remembered. The cool night air raised goosebumps on your skin, but it was the intensity of his gaze that made you shiver. You could smell the scent of lake water and earth on his skin.

He reached out, his clawed hand gently cupping your cheek. You flinched at first, but then found yourself leaning into his touch. His skin was cool and slightly damp, reminding you of the lake's waters.

"You've been watching for me," he said, his voice a low rumble. It wasn't a question. "I've seen you at your window night after night."

You nodded, unable to deny it. "I... I wasn't sure if you'd come back," you whispered.

His thumb traced your lower lip, sending a shiver through you. "I told you I would return for what's mine," he said.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, and a knowing smile curved his lips. His gaze dropped to your belly. "And it seems I've left more than just memories with you."

Your hand instinctively went to your stomach. "How can you know?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His chuckle was low and dark. "I can smell the changes in you, little one. Your scent is sweeter now, ripe with new life."

Your breath caught in your throat. So it was true. The suspicion you'd been harboring was confirmed by this creature who could somehow sense what your own body had only begun to whisper.

His hand drifted down to rest on your belly, his touch surprisingly gentle, brushing over your hand.

“Do you have a name?” you asked tentatively.

He smiled, a mixture of amusement and appreciation in his eyes. "Curtis," he replied. "Though I'm surprised you care to know it."

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Part of you was still terrified, but another part was drawn to him, fascinated by this otherworldly creature who had claimed you so thoroughly.

"Curtis," you repeated softly, tasting the name on your tongue. It seemed too ordinary for such an extraordinary being.

His hand moved from your belly to your waist, pulling up from your seat and drawing you close. "And what shall I call you, my sweet human?"

You hesitated, then whispered your name.

"Beautiful," he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. His breath was cool against your skin, making you shiver. "It suits you."

You gasped as his lips brushed your throat, your body responding to his touch. Your breath hitched as Curtis's lips trailed along your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your sensitive skin. A whimper escaped you, torn between fear and desire.

"Shh," he soothed, his large hand cradling the back of your head. "We don't want to wake your family, do we?"

The reminder of where you were, of the danger, sent a jolt through you. You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.

"Curtis," you whispered urgently, "we can't - not here."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh? And where would you suggest, little one? Back to the lakeshore?"

The memory of that night flooded your senses - the cool grass and earth beneath you, the scent of the water, the overwhelming pleasure. You shuddered, heat pooling low in your belly.

He nipped gently at your earlobe.

"I've thought of you every day since our night together," Curtis murmured, his voice low and husky. "The taste of your skin, the sound of your cries... and if I hadn’t found you with child, I was determined to attempt to breed you again, little one."

You trembled in his arms, torn between fear and a growing desire. His massive form dwarfed you, reminding you of his inhuman strength. Your resolve weakened as Curtis's hands roamed your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever he touched. You knew you should resist, should cry out for help, but the words died in your throat. Instead, a soft moan escaped your lips as his fingers traced the curve of your breast through your thin nightgown.

"That's it," he purred, encouraged by your response. "Let yourself feel, little one. Your body remembers the pleasure I gave you."

And it did. Your skin tingled with anticipation, your core aching with need. You pressed closer to him, inhaling his scent of lake water and earth. His tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Curtis," you breathed, your hands tentatively exploring the planes of his muscled chest. "We shouldn't…"

But even as you protested, your body betrayed you. Your nipples hardened as he insistently brushed his thumbs back and forth over each tender nub.

"Please," you whimpered, though you weren't sure if you were begging him to stop or continue.

Curtis lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to your bed. He laid you down, then stepped back to shuck off his meager clothing - only a white shirt and dark pants. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, his scales glimmered, casting otherworldly patterns across your skin as he loomed over you.

He settled onto the bed, slowly crawling over you. "Hush now," he murmured, a clawed finger tracing your lips. "I'll make you feel good, just as I did before."

Your nightgown was pushed up, exposing your bare skin to the cool night air. Curtis's hands roamed your body, reacquainting himself with every curve and dip. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers found your most sensitive areas.

"So responsive," he purred, his tail caressing your inner thigh. "Your body remembers me well."

You arched into his touch, shame and desire warring within you. You trembled, both from fear and anticipation, as the cool night air kissed your exposed skin. Curtis's eyes, gleaming in the darkness, roved hungrily over your bumps and curves.

"Gorgeous," he breathed, leaning down to press his lips to your stomach. "My child grows here."

You gasped as his tongue, longer and more dexterous than any human's, swirled around your navel. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them. You could feel the heat of his breath against sex.

"Curtis," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can't... my family..."

He looked up at you, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. "Then you'll have to be very quiet, won't you, little one?"

Before you could protest further, his mouth was on you. His tongue, impossibly long and nimble, delved into your folds. You bit down on your fist to stifle a cry of pleasure. Curtis growled approvingly, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core.

Your free hand tangled in the sheets. His tail slithered over your wrist, then wrapped around your thigh, holding you open for his ministrations. You writhed beneath him, struggling to stay quiet.

Curtis's tongue worked magic between your thighs, lapping and probing in ways that made your toes curl. You pressed your fist harder against your mouth, desperately trying to muffle your cries of pleasure. His tail tightened around your thigh, keeping you open as you squirmed beneath him.

"That's it," he murmured against your sensitive flesh. "Let go for me, little one."

Your hips bucked involuntarily as he sucked on your most sensitive bud. The pressure built inside you, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment. Curtis's fingers joined his tongue, stretching and filling you. The dual sensation was overwhelming.

"Curtis," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't... I can’t..."

“But you are,” he growled, the vibrations sending you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed as

Your back arched off the bed as pleasure exploded through you. Curtis's mouth stayed locked on your center, drawing out your climax until you were trembling and gasping for air. Only then did he lift his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Stunning," he murmured, crawling up your body. The scales along his torso rubbed against your sensitized skin, sending aftershocks through you. "But we're far from done, little one."

You felt the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, and a mix of fear and anticipation fluttered in your stomach, remembering how painful and then how pleasurable his thick member inside you had been. Curtis nuzzled your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Your scent is intoxicating," he growled. "Especially now, carrying my child."

His hand splayed possessively over your belly. You shivered, torn between the lingering pleasure and the reality of your situation. This creature - this man from the lake - had claimed you in ways you never imagined possible. And now he was here again, in your own bedroom, ready to take every piece of you once more.

Curtis's lips found yours in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting of you, of lake water, and something wild. You moaned softly against him, your body responding despite your lingering trepidation.

He pulled back, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. "Turn over," he commanded softly.

Your heart raced as you obeyed, rolling onto your stomach. Curtis's hands gripped your hips, lifting them. You felt exposed, vulnerable in this position. His tail wrapped around your waist, steadying you.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his hands caressing your back, your sides, your bottom. You shivered at his touch, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You felt the blunt head of his member pressing against your entrance. Despite your earlier climax, you tensed, remembering the initial pain from your first encounter. Curtis sensed your apprehension and leaned over you, his chest pressed to your back.

"Relax, little one," he whispered in your ear. "Your body knows me now. It will welcome me."

Slowly, inexorably, he began to push inside. You bit down on your pillow to muffle your cries as he stretched you, filling you more completely than you thought possible. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, torn between the discomfort of the intrusion and the growing pleasure.

His hand slid between your legs, fingers circling your still-sensitive bud. You gasped, pushing back against him instinctively. Curtis took advantage of your movement, slowly pressing inside you.

The stretch was intense, but not painful as it had been before. Your body, as Curtis had promised, seemed to remember him, accommodating his impressive girth. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he sank deeper.

"That's it," Curtis growled, his voice thick with pleasure.

Curtis's tail tightened around your waist as he seated himself fully within you. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, filling you completely. His hands roamed your body, caressing and soothing.

"So tight," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel exquisite, little one."

You whimpered softly, overwhelmed by the fullness, the stretch. Curtis began to move, slow, shallow thrusts that made you gasp. His hand slid from your hip to your belly, caressing the slight swell there.

"Mine," he growled possessively. "Both of you."

You whimpered softly as he continued to move in slow, deeper thrusts that sent waves of pleasure through your body. His tail unwound from your waist, the tip sliding between your legs to tease your sensitive bud.

"Curtis," you gasped, struggling to keep your voice down. "It's too much..."

But your body betrayed your words, pushing back to meet his thrusts. Curtis chuckled darkly, nipping at your shoulder.

"Your body knows what it wants, little one," he purred. "It craves me, just as I crave you."

His pace increased gradually, each thrust driving deeper. You buried your face in the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure. The initial discomfort had faded, replaced by waves of sensation that threatened to overwhelm you.

Curtis's movements grew more insistent, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. You clutched the sheets, struggling to stay quiet as waves of pleasure washed over you. His tail continued its teasing ministrations between your legs, the dual sensations driving you towards another peak.

"That's it," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me again, little one. Show me how much you've missed this."

Your body obeyed, even as your mind reeled at the intensity of it all. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. You bit down hard on the pillow, muffling your cry of ecstasy as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Curtis groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as your inner walls clenched around him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and humid against your skin. His hips jerked erratically as he reached his peak. With a low, guttural groan that vibrated through your entire body, he climaxed. You felt his member pulsing inside you as he pumped you full of his seed.

Wave after wave crashed over him as he continued to thrust, each movement sending another surge of his essence deep within you. His tail coiled tightly around your thigh, holding you in place as he claimed you completely.

The warmth of his release spread through you, a stark contrast to his cool skin. You shuddered beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation and the knowledge of what was happening. The room filled with the scent of lake water, earth, and your combined arousal.

Curtis's teeth grazed your shoulder, not quite breaking the skin but leaving marks that would linger for days. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he rode out the last waves of his climax, determined to empty himself inside you. You trembled beneath him, your body still quivering with aftershocks.

Slowly, his grip loosened, and he eased himself out of you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. Curtis gathered you in his arms, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His tail wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

"Beautiful," he murmured, nuzzling into your neck, the scratch of his beard making you shiver. "You were perfect, little one."

You lay there, catching your breath, your mind reeling from what had just transpired. You could feel the stickiness of some of your combined spend that had oozed out of your cunt hot between the top of your thighs. Curtis's hand splayed possessively over your belly, reminding you of the life growing within.

"What happens now?" you whispered, fear and uncertainty creeping back into your voice.

Curtis's arms tightened around you. "Now," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, "you come with me."

Your heart raced at his words. "What? I can't just leave, Curtis. My family, my life..."

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Your life is with me now, little one. You carry my child. You belong to the lake, to me."

You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "Please," you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. "I'm not ready. I can't just disappear."

Curtis sighed, his breath cool against your neck. "I understand your hesitation," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But you must understand, little one. Our child cannot be raised in the human world."

You trembled in his arms, torn between fear and a strange sense of longing. "I can't just leave. My family—"

"Will never understand," he finished for you. "They can't accept what you've become, what we've created together."

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. Part of you knew he was right - there was no way to explain your pregnancy, no way to raise a half-human, half-lake creature child in your village. But the thought of leaving everything you'd ever known was terrifying.

"Shh," he murmured. "I know it's frightening. But I will take care of you.”

“I’m not ready,” you cried softly. You weren’t ready to leave, you weren’t ready to carry his child, you weren’t ready for any of this.

Curtis's grip on you loosened slightly, though he didn't let go completely. His hand continued to caress your belly gently.

"I understand your fear," he murmured, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "This is all new to you. But you must understand, little one - our child cannot survive in your world. And you... you've been changed by our coupling. The lake calls to you now, doesn't it?"

You shivered, realizing the truth in his words. Ever since that first night, you'd felt drawn to the water in a way you never had before. The sight, the smell, the sound of it called to something deep within you.

"I... I need time," you whispered. "Please, Curtis. I can't just vanish without a trace. My family will worry."

He was quiet for a long moment, his tail tightening slightly around your waist before loosening as well.

“Curtis?” you prompted, worried as his silence drew on.

"Sleep now, little one," he finally murmured, his arms tightening around you once more. "Dawn will come soon enough."

But sleep didn't come easily. You lay there, hyper-aware of Curtis's presence behind you. His cool, slightly damp skin pressed against yours, his tail still wrapped loosely around your waist. The rise and fall of his chest against your back was steady, but you could tell from the tension in his body that he wasn't sleeping either.

The moonlight filtered through the window, casting eerie shadows across the room. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves outside, made you tense. You kept expecting someone to burst through the door, to discover you in the arms of this creature. But the night remained quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the lake's waves in the distance.

As the sky began to lighten, your eyelids grew heavy. Despite your racing thoughts, exhaustion finally overcame you.

When you awoke mere hours later, you were alone.

Well... a little surprise monster fucking for your Monday. HOPE THE HOES IN THIS HOUSE ENJOYED IT!

PART THREE/THE NEXT: Darkness Always Finds You Either Way

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

‘t felt natural to help Kayce at the barn. Coyo didn’t even have to ask; Cal offered. When he neared the burnt out building though, he felt it for the first time. What doctors and nurses and all the pamphlets were telling him to look forward to.  

Nausea. 

The smell was intense. Engulfing. Scratched the back of his throat and reached down inside his esophagus all the way to the stomach. Squeezed. Twisted. Cal paused in his steps, not fully considering retreat, but with a sting of hesitation. 

Coyo came out of the ruins at that exact moment, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with sooty rubble. 

“Hey, man!” he called. “Good timing, we’ve just started.” 

Cal had promised. There was no turning back now. 

They worked through the afternoon, and Cal managed to not throw up. He managed to keep his face neutral when Kayce looked, or turn away, when he needed more than a moment to get a grip on himself. It wasn’t easy, but... 

Easy day, as they said, was yesterday.

.# 

Andrea wanted the two of them to come over to the Bullet, to pour one for Double G. It felt right. A sixer of PBR after a day’s work on East Camp, listening to some country. Reminiscing. 

Cal was tired after two bears, but he mustered through the third. For Double G. In the end, though, he had to leave Kayce and Andrea to their bickering. 

Another radiotherapy session awaited him bright’n‘early.

.#

Miles’ friend, Sabrina, had died. Drug overdose. Drugs were a plague haunting the Reservation. One of the two, the other one being... cancer. Caused by all the pollution. 

Cancer. Not something Cal wanted to think about, but it kept reminding about itself, over and over again.

[...]