Mawoo

ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name

> Smell is the first sense to go when dying, as your breathing halts. Sight is the next sense to die, as vision goes black when blood leaves the head from heart failure. Touch starts to fail when blood drains from the skin and limbs, and lastly, hearing is the final sense to go, as ears will carry sound into the dead head till the brain finally ceases life.

——

Your body is still warm, your hands beside your body as you slump against the wall. Eyes open, though there’s no spark in them as gold trickles down the corner of your mouth. The last few seconds of your life had been agony as you felt the dull ache slowly fade with your life, the world going black. You will die alone, just as fate foretold.

Life has not been kind to you at all. You, a poor child who was blessed by the Ruin Author, destined to be always played, to be a pawn, to be a puppet, and ultimately, a vessel of pure chaos. Your fate can never steer its path no matter how hard you have tried. Perhaps that charming blond was your sole escape as your life ran its course.

You aren’t breathing, your chest has stilled amidst the movement of time, of words and of actions, but your mind flashes through scenes that play rapidly before your eyes. The world may have been bleak and meaningless, but amidst that, there was colour that made your heart beat ever so faster.

ׂ╰┈➤ (0 minutes.)

“Go, assassin. Spread the seeds of destruction across every corner of the galaxy.”

Those were the Duke’s parting words to you as you were sent on your next mission, the chilling warmth of the mansion bidding you farewell. Ever-Flame’s mansion’s greatest and deadliest assassin the galaxy has seen in its billions of life cycles, the most ruthless planets have ever had the displeasure of knowing about. Poison, bullets, blades, what came into your hand was either used to destroy, or destroyed.

The next target the Annihilation Gang set their sights on were the IPC. A rich corporation striving for galaxy wide peace, and the most dedicated followers of the Preservation, the complete opposite of the people who have nurtured your nature.

Your specific target was a particular blond. No pictures, no voice memos the Duke could give you, but he told you it would be obvious when the time came. The only issue was that the man, Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts, was far too difficult to assassinate swiftly.

Most of your targets were people who opposed the ideals of Destruction, or those whom Everflame Mansion held personal vendettas against. You don’t ask, you don’t pry, you just move within the shadows and strike. It doesn’t matter if they were innocent nor evil. That was your purpose, your only purpose in this miserable life. They were for the most part, easy targets, no power to hire protection, no idea that they were going to take their last breath as they sipped poison or had a bullet crammed solid in their skull.

But Aventurine… so you’ve heard, is rather difficult to locate and pin down. Elusive, a tough task it would be, to try and take him out without knowledge of the places he goes, the tasks he deals with. So your next option? Undercover job to get close to him. In other words, a bodyguard.

It wouldn’t be the first time. But this would be a different playing field. You’d need to wait, play the long game while you slowly chip away the layers upon layers that the Stoneheart would have most definitely built around him, and strike him when he’s at his lowest. You never got attached. Attachment, relationships, love, was a weakness. That moral of that you were taught at a young age. This is a game with only one winner.

There were soft whispers and gasps around you as you strode down the hall. You didn’t think you looked too remarkable, rather, it was the reason you were there that sent waves through the gossip columns. Diamond, hiring a personal bodyguard, for one of the strongest people the IPC has ever had in their system.

It drove the point across, that no matter how powerful you were, there was no guaranteed chance you were untouchable. The people in the elevator, despite their black and gold plated face masks covering their expressions, kept a slight distance from your form. A normal person would feel uncomfortable, but you simply pretended they didn’t exist. Missions always require you to stay on the target.

Finally, the lift bell chimes behind you as you strode out of the lift, your feet touch the glassy, marbled floor of what you knew was Diamond’s office. Nothing super flashy, just enough to show off his wealth, but not enough to be considered gaudy or over the top. And there he was, standing in front of Diamond, whom you immediately knew was Aventurine.

It was as if the world became muted around you when you made eye contact with him. Blond, charming smile that you saw on most targets, and those eyes. Purple, with the most dazzling, breathtaking, blue to accompany his diamond shaped pupils. New experiences were hard to come by for you due to the nature of your job and by extent, your life, but this slotted into that category perfectly.

“Ah, so you must be the bodyguard Diamond personally hired to accompany me, hm?”

That voice, smooth as butter, and the undertone of cunning. You stiffen, though your hand still reaches out to shake his. He’s like all of them. You have an idea how he truly operates, manipulation being his obvious habit would be a give away if everyone could read emotions as well as you did.

“Yes. I am [𓏵]. I will be your bodyguard, for what I presume is the foreseeable future.”

Aventurine laughs, it’s a fake, light laugh you see through instantaneously as your hand pulls away before his own does. Manipulative, cunning, a textbook definition for at least 75% of the people you’ve gotten their blood on your hands before.

He was the lone mouse in the desert, while you were the prowling lion, hungry for prey. For blood.

“I look forward to working with you.”ׂ

╰┈➤ (1 minute.)

Long game it was. It took six months to find a crack in Aventurine’s armor, to find that weakness amidst all the walls he’d put up around himself, and even then, it took a extreme amount of patience and putting up with his antics almost every day for this moment to happen.

You know his inner workings, for the most part. Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts was a senior manager of the Strategic Investment Department at the IPC. And he was filthy rich, seriously, you dont think you’ve seen anyone spend so much money without a care. Richer than many, if not, all the people who have been felled by your hand. A man of such high caliber, you’re surprised no one has tried to backstab him sooner.

Aventurine has a fondness for spending money on you. It is slightly flattering, as it was rare that your undercover jobs had your targets treating you kindly, but that was at the start. Eventually, it became obvious that it was mostly to… buy your loyalty. It was as if he already knew you weren’t actually there to protect him.

Aventurine also has a fondness for casinos and poker games. That was made abundantly clear when during the first night of your employment, he’s already dragging you to one of the most famous casinos in a planet you’ve forgotten the name of, and it seemed, from the gazes of other patrons, you knew he definitely reaped the fruits of his luck every time there.

You played the role flawlessly. Staying by Aventurine’s side, looking like a menacing threat to whoever shot a glare that was too nasty for your taste, making sure those he played against didn’t come too close for your liking, and essentially, doing your job as a bodyguard. With your stature and the way your lips purse into thin lines almost every hour, it wasnt hard.

That night, after half a year of patience, of prowling the darkness, slowly, meticulously chipping away parts of the confident and suave man you ‘guard’, you found a peek in the cracks. During the initial start of your employment, drinks that Aventurine took were always in his line of sight, even as he cracked jokes with the women and men who are getting a bit too handsy for people he doesnt know, as he playfully tried to convince you to take a shot.

“C’mon, [𓏵], lighten up! You’ve been such a great bodyguard, take a break.”

His voice, though was annoying at first, you’ve grown used to the way his words roll off his tongue, flawless and almost rehearsed as he slid a glass of whiskey towards your hands that were crossed on the table, and you remain silent as you shake your head, though you swirl the brown liquid in a attempt to appease him.

It does the trick. You watch as he gets up and pushes past the people fawning over him, his drink left behind on the bar table as he seats himself comfortably on one of the sides of the poker table. The small bottle of thallium sits in your suit pocket, and your hands slip into it to wrap around the bottle.

But you hesitate. You’re not fixated on the drink, you’re fixated on Aventurine. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way his smile is infuriatingly charming, how he smirks when the person across him loses for what you’ve counted was the ninth time in a row that night. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way his rose tinted glasses hide that breathtaking shade of his eyes.

This… this isn’t how you are supposed to feel. Hesitation was not in your nature. If this was any other person, you’d dump the thallium in the drink, wait for them to down it and pretend to worry and be concerned when they start to convulse on the floor and vomit violently, then make your escape. That was how it always was. That was how it was supposed to be.

But your hands don’t move, they clench around the small bottle, fingers trembling ever so briefly as you gaze at the half finished drink, and you recall the irony of the situation you find yourself in.

“I presume the mission is underway, [𓏵]?”

“It is. It shall be done tonight.”

That was your reply to Duke Inferno mere hours ago. And you have never gone back on your words. The consequences if you do are never pretty. Your hand leaves the pocket, and it finds the communication earpiece, not the IPC issued one, but the one you have to resume contact with Ever-Flame mansion. Your hand opens it as you toss it into your glass of whiskey, watching as the device sunk into the brown liquid.

Your footsteps thud silently across the carpeted floor of the casino, making your way to your place beside Aventurine, and the man who was about to get up and presumably spew insults at the gambler sat back down, hesitantly gazing at your subtle scowl as your eyes trail his movements.

“Ah, so you finally decided to stop moping around, hm?”

Aventurine grins mischeivously at you, crossing his leg over the other as he shuffled the cards in his hands, and his smile makes your heart flutter just a bit that makes you stiffen at the unfamiliar feeling, opting to nod instead of giving a verbal response.

In this proximity, you can usually tell what perfume Aventurine has decided to wear that day. Perhaps it’s luxurious, a way of flaunting his wealthy by assaulting your nostrils, or it’s a subtle, sweet fragrance, one that he rarely uses but you know he has somewhere in his closet.

But in this particular moment… you cant figure out the scent as you continue to stand still beside him.

ׂ╰┈➤ (2 minutes.)

Aventurine, for a man who only claims is your boss, and nothing more, is surprisingly open to spoiling you to his heart’s content, despite the fact half the time the items he gets you are because they caught your eye for more than a millisecond, or it’s because he ‘feels like it’.

Refusing them gets you nowhere, he’ll sneak them in front of your room when you’re showering or doing something else within his penthouse. Trying to return them? Oopsies, the receipts are either mysteriously gone or the shop is coincidentally not accepting refunds!

Today is no different. Though it isn’t in your job description, it seems being a personal bag carrier for the Stoneheart will be one of your main tasks. It’s not a hassle from the weight, the items he buys during spontaneous shopping sprees are usually clothes to fill his overflowing wardrobe.

You’ve always paid close attention to detail. You see the way his hands are always clasped behind his back, how his left index and thumb always fiddle with the watch situated nicely upon his wrist. How the area below his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled at the receptionist. How he laughed when you refused any gifts he bought for you, no matter how much the gifts appealed to you.

Walking alongside Aventurine is therapeutic, it’s as if you really signed up for this job out of free will. Since you threw away the communication device connecting you to the Annihilation Gang, there’s a nagging worry at the back of your mind. Anxiety that plagues your very dreams when you slumber, fear that the family who nurtured your nature will take the person who has started to trickle colour into your life.

It’s not like you feel this way. You aren’t supposed to feel this way. Emotions hinder your job, they make you weak, make you vulnerable. When you look at him, you’re supposed to feel nothing, you’re supposed to only see him as a target. Staring at his face while he talks about something that goes right over your head makes you gloss over the fact he’s dragged you into a jewelry store.

“Now, now, [𓏵], lighten up with that frown, will you?”

Aventurine grins as he lightly taps your forearm, taking your hand as he guides your fingers to the box that was sitting snugly on the glass display. The diamond adorned necklaces, the bracelets resting an opal on the centres, the sapphires that make you raise an eyebrow at how gaudy the blue clashes with the gold.

Your hands reach out to gently clasp the box, fingers, used to destroy, used to cause destruction, gently open the cover as you gaze curiously at the earring that is seated on the velvet cushioning. The first thing that immediately catches your eye is how it looks like an exact replica of the earring Aventurine adorns on his left earlobe, a three pointed, turquoise coloured piece of jewelry that resembles a peacock’s feather.

“I can’t help but notice that you seem to be a bit… lackluster, for a loss of better words, dear bodyguard. I cant have someone working for me looking like that now, hm?”

Its a lie that you dont bother to point out. He’s got at least a thousand employees, maybe even more, considering how buttfuck big the IPC is, and taking into account his positon as one of the most powerful and influential people, why would he take the time to get a replica of the earring for a simple bodyguard that was expendable? Replaceable, like you always have been.

You have asked yourself this many times. The earring was the only particular jewelrly that you took willingly, and even wore without much of a argument or attempts to return to the store. First thing in the morning when you wake, you fumble around your bedside of the earring, place it on your right ear lobe, and the last thing you do before going to bed is take it off.

The reason is something you cant pinpoint. Perhaps it’s guilt, guilt for continuing your charade and lies that you had no initial motives to sign up for this job, perhaps its a sense of loyalty, afterall, youve dedicated almost a entire year to be at this man’s side, to keep him safe, to take bullets for him. Or perhaps, it’s the way you yearn to see the smile on his face one more time.

Death has never made you fear doing what you do, what you have done. Your death was something you knew was inevitable, as all living beings find themselves passing to the other side eventually, one way or the other. What you found sightly pleasing about death was how physical items gave you a accompanying comfort, as if a final tie to the life you had when on the plane of the living.

That earring had broken into pieces during the events leading to your death. Even the feeling of blades stabbing into your flesh, making you gag and choke on the molten gold that had replaced your life essence as you stared at the shattered, shining bits that you cherished. The feeling of passing in sorrow, unable to hold onto the one object that you prayed you could bring with you in death was indescribable.

ׂ╰┈➤ (3 minutes.)

“Funny, isnt it?”

How you ended up in this situation, you have absolutely no clue. Aventurine, in true fashion, had tempted you with a simple two truths, one lie game. Tell two truths, one lie, and if the other guesses all three correctly, the party who came up with the truths and lies take a shot. And in true Aventurine luck, he had successfully guessed all of your truths and lies.

You kept it simple, truths of mundane things you have done before, but nothing about your job before meeting the blond, and small tweaks to the truths to make it a technical lie. Two truths and one lie were childish games that you thought yourself to be above, and games you thought Aventurine to be above, you’d have expected him to make you play a game of dice or poker.

Aventurine guessed every single one of your lies, your truths, and the amount of whiskey you have downed at 9pm on a Thursday night is making your head start to spin. A normal human would have been passed out drunk on the island countertop, but you weren’t a normal human, therefore, you are groggy but remain standing.

It is then that the gambler before you starts to open up. Through blurred vision and muffled hearing as you stared at him tap his right index finger on the marble, his eyes gaze at what you presume is his own reflection in his whiskey, and he gives you a half hearted smile while tilting his head up.

“Well, it’s my turn, hm? Let’s begin.”

“One, I’ve ordered another custom suit for you, dear [𓏵].”

Truth, though you don’t guess it out loud, but this was rather predictable for him. But something else briefly snaps you out of your hazy state.

It’s the way he says your name, but with the word ‘dear’ right in front of it. You’ve listened to most of his terms of endearment, ranging from ‘stone wall’ to grumpy cat’. The last one is one that he used to describe you rather than call you directly, though in your fuzzy minded state you’re not really sure if that counts.

“Two, I’ve lost a game in the casino before.”

A very obvious lie. Not only have you accompanied him around to know that he has never lost a single game, you also know, from asking around with IPC employees who once saw Aventurine play before and by consulting logs from casinos he’s frequented before your employment, that he has won every game.

There’s a silence after he speaks, and you can see him gazing fondly at your half drunken state, his hand clenchinga round the cup as he chuckled softly, sounding hesitant as he took off his watch, setting it on the countertop before speaking.

“Third, I was bought for 60 copper coins.”

There’s a pause as the words fail to register in your mind for a few seconds as you shoot your head up before it smacks the marble corner, staring wide eyed at Aventurine as you realize he isnt able to meet your gaze. The way he stares at his own reflection in the honey brown liquid, how his hands tremble as he struggle to continue his words.

“I may have money too much for me to spend now, i may have bank accounts full of gold and riches people can only dream to possess a fraction of. But the truth is, I was once one of these very possessions.”

Typical Aventurine. Only opening up to you the only way he knows how. Through a game, and he doesnt even elaborate on what he tells you.

“This branding on my neck? It’s a sign of my past. It’s a sign that no matter what, I will always be a pawn in a bigger game, and that is something I’ll never be able to run from.”

The way he speaks, it’s bitter, almost empty. So dull and so… vulnerable, unlike the man you know that signs your paychecks and drops gifts at your room door. This was a man who was broken, with no life left in his eyes, no true purpose as he wanders aimlessly in the confines of his own mind, unable to face his demons.

“...Perhaps… we should stop, sir. You have a long day tomorrow.”

You haven’t guessed out loud the truths and lie, but you croak out the words nonetheless, grunting with effort as you push your weight off the countertop, trying your best to not stumble over your own two feet as you wobble over to Aventurine, hesitantly inching out to take the glass away from the gambler’s hand, though your a bit surprised when he shakes his head and holds onto it tighter.

“One more game. Tell me your truths and lie.”

There’s a weak smile on his face, and there’s a sort of emotion that blazes wildy in his beautiful purple eyes, it takes you a few seconds to register what it was.

Fear. Fear that you’ll leave and never look back, disgusted by his past.

A sigh escapes you as you stand gingerly beside him, grabbing his whiskey glass as you gaze at him, though you’re pretty sure if you stand upright any longer you’ll kiss the ground.

“Of course, sir.”

You finally soldier up and fight the increasing hazy drowsiness as you blink rapidly, gazing at Aventurine’s face. But you find yourself unable to remember how he looks. The view of him, despite being seated right beside you, is blurred, hazy and a mess of colours.

ׂ╰┈➤ (4 minutes.)

Your feet carry you through the park with frightening speed as you push past the people who have come to clamour around the theme park’s entrance, enteirng the area to find the Astral Express standing in the rain, the Galaxy Ranger who now has grey instead of a purple shade of hair, and the screen that has a ominous, red slash cutting clean through it, merging in with the sky, with the man who had threatened Penacony nowhere to be seen.

You had feared this sort of outcome. Aventurine was a man who would forever be at least ten steps ahead of everybody, no matter if in the moment, it seemed as if he would be dealt the losing hand, therefore, despite your many attempts to dissuade him, he went ahead with the plan anyways.

But even an avid gambler has thier losses.

It was a stupid idea, letting him go to Dewlight Pavillion by himself, you never trusted that purple haired man enough to temporarily take your place, but Aventurine had said it was for the plan to work best. You’d though he was pleased with the outcome, but he didnt come back to the hotel room.

You’d texted him with a phone you barely use, probably spammed more messages than necessary, and you didn’t even receive a reply back for nearly two system hours. Thousands of things that could have gone wrong, have gone wrong, race your mind, keeping your heart pounding as you had scrambled through the streets of Penacony’s Golden Hour, narrowly avoiding cars and drunk people as you try to find a glimpse of him.

There’s a overwhelming relief when you finally see him, conversing lightly with people who’ve had too much Soulglad or are simply just in Penacony to find their footing, and you almost run to bring him in for a hug, only for you stop short, hesitating as you wonder whether you truly deserve such proximity, settling for simply standing in front of the gambler. There’s a brief bout of laughter somewhere, but it goes over your head as you barely acknowledge it,

Aventurine doesnt look exactly pleased to see you, in fact, he gives you a almost pitiful smile that could make a usually bold man like him laugh at his state.

“Ah, have you been worried for me, dear bodyguard? You’ve been texting me like a desperate employee needing approval for time off.”

It’s a weak joke, one that has you raising your eyebrow at the odd way his voice cracks when he speaks, and he shushes you before you can ask what the hell went on during that meeting.

“Nevermind that. I need you to go back to the real world and find Topaz. The Family’s planning something, and I need to stay here to make preparations. The doctor will be waiting for you outside your room.”

You’re genuinely reluctant to heed his words for the first time during your employment. First of all, he hasn’t explained what happened to make him look like a kicked puppy, and secondly, he is your employer, not Ratio nor Topaz, so why wasn’t he accompanying you? What could be so important in Penacony that he must remain yet you cannot?

He doesn’t relent. He doesn’t give you an answer, avoiding your questions as he orders you to return to the real world. You know he’s lying, you’ve been by his side for a few years, it would be impossible for you to not tell when he’s lying and when he’s not, and considering his hand is hidden behind his back, you know what he says has something hidden to it.

Yet, you follow Aventurine’s order. You stupidly decide that this time, you’d close one eye and pretend he’s telling you the truth. When you turned to leave, he grabs your wrist, and his mouth was open, as if his true words were stuck in his throat before he lets go, smiling sadly.

“Good luck, [𓏵].”

That was fifteen system hours ago. Returning to the real world, there’s a sense that the Mundanite is not telling you something you should know, the way Topaz gives you slightly pitiful glances as you’re busy trying to text Aventurine your updates or questioning his status and whereabouts.

It isnt until a certain lady in a veil comes up to you to give a ominous but cryptic words of how a person who has taken risks will finally see to it that their final gamble pays off, that you finally decide enough was enough, you were returning to drag Aventurine back by the collar of his shirt even if it meant getting fired.

There’s not a way to describe the way your world stops as the sounds of the Express’s navigator and the man with glasses come up to you to try and pull you away from the destruction that was once the man who gave you world colour, the way you feel your vision get blurry as you realise you were crying for the first time in years.

The woman that had caused the red slash was gone in the blink of an eye. Then there’s a bubbling rage that overwhelms you momentarily, and you feel your main instincts come back into play, to let your teachings take over and allow blood to stain your hands once more.

But you stop yourself. Because no matter if you decided to slaughter the Astral Express members who stand in front of you to offer words of comfort, to slaugher Sunday, the Family, for taking him away from you, to go toe to toe with that woman and watch Destrcution burn her alive, there will be nothing that can bring Aventurine back from his demise.

So without a word, you wander aimlessly around Penacony, and you briefly hear the pink haired girl’s words of wanting to follow you to cheer you up, and the black haired male’s voice stopping her fade behind you. Your legs carry you throughout the Golden Hour, blending in with the drunken, blissed and the gambling tourists as you slide against a wall in a alleyway, where the darkness embraces you.

Perhaps, this was what grief was. To feel the person who you have faithfully dedicated your life to, your entrie purpose to, gone. Not a trace of him left for you to even hold, and there were so many things that you had left unsaid. Perhaps this was the final emotion you had never truly felt in all its miserable glory. The chilling laughter you heard earlier briefly makes you look up at the night sky of Penacony, before you drift into a sweet dream, a small glimpse of a red herring in the corner of your eye.

Aventurine has taught you how to feel, whether intentionally or not. He’s taught you how to smile, no matter how forced it looks, he’s taught you to care, locking you in rooms with the three cake creatures who smother you affectionately, and he’s taught you what it feels like to be starstruck and how to feel like the world has erupted in a symphony of hues of joy.

When you next open your eyes, there is Aventurine trying to shake you awake, and you feel his warm body embrace tightly around yours. Your neck is sore from slumping into a very uncomfortable position in your slumber, but feeling the man’s arms drape over your shoulder, feeling the coolness of his rings against your neck, the pain is momentarily forgotten as you register his presence in your stunned state.

Grief and joy are two very different feelings. One makes your head spin as you try to process the utter feeling of devastation and the feeling of your life crashing down upon you and the other makes you feel like life has given you their greatest treasures and blessings one could ever ask for.

This is joy, you think as you gingerly embraced Aventurine, watching as beautiful lights shoot through the sky, and a warm feeling spreads through your body inexplicably, but comforting nonetheless.

But there’s something wrong about the way you cant feel his body against yours, how his warmth is replaced with a numbness.

ׂ╰┈➤ (5 minutes.)

The alcohol has surpassingly, not made your tongue too loose as you stand beside Aventurine hesitantly, fidgeting with your sleeve as you coughed, running a hand over your face that was burning up, groaning at the fact the ceiling was starting to look like it was wobbling.

“Ah… truth..”

You mumbled, trying to find another truth, a stupid one. Maybe the time you decided it was a good idea to try to prank the Duke, only to end up having to clean the mansion top to bottom? No, you’ve already said that one, minus the Duke inclusion.

There’s a silence that encases your mind as you realize that you’ve run out of something surface level to tell Aventurine, whether it’d be a cleverly concealing of your past, or a simple way to subtly jab at his habits that make you roll your eyes.

But he just lowered his final defense agaisnt you. He’d just given you a snippet, a piece of his true past, instead of whispers that float through the halls of the IPC or through records you have hesitantly combed through, only to put away from the guilt of prying.

“One… I signed up for this job out of my own free will, not because of any ulterior motives.”

You murmur, your gaze flickering to Aventurine’s face, watching his eyebrow raise slightly as he smirked slightly, though it’s clear it’s just a reflex. You know when his reactions are coming from his heart or if they were coming from years of conditioning himself to put on a image that was never real.

“I’m tempted to say it’s a lie, dear bodyguard… butI’ll go with truth.”

Uh, okay, ouch, he wanst even supposed to guess yet. You’re pretty sure the whiskey has made you loose some control over your emotions, because Aventurine’s smirk visibly dampens as he searches how your face twists into a frown. You would have never let his words affect you, well, visibly at least, if it was any other normal day.

You won’t deny he was right. You wee lying about not signing up without ulterior motives. The guilt that weighs on you, the guilt you have been carrying for many months is starting to make you crack.

You sigh as you almost slump forward, your vision blurring as you seat yourself upright again, ignoring how Aventurine’s hand briefly shoots out to hold you, before it shrinks back as you shake your head, making sure you’re okay by the sheer willpower of his eyes.

“Mm… aha. I’ve stolen candy from a girl when i was younger before for kicking my chair during class.”

It’s a lie you came up on a whim, it’s random to bring up something so insignificant during what is a serious moment, but it’s childish and petty enough that anyone would have believed it without a second thought. Who hanst been at least petty to someone once in thier lifetime before?

You raise a hand to stop him from guessing, gazing at his expression, watching it shift into one of slight confusion as he heeds your gesture. Perfect. You clear your throat, taking a chug of the whiskey that glistens under the kitchen lights, smiling to yourself sadly.

“Third. I…”

The words are caught in your throat as you stare at the pristine glass cup as you sigh, leaning back as you turn your eyes to look outside the kitchen of the penthouse, gazing in wonder at the stars that litter and dot the skies in tiny white lights. You swear that one of them, in the far far distance, form a small heart.

“I didnt actually accept this job under the pretense of wanting to protect someone. Or money.”

You decide to change what you were about to say. You can’t bring yourself to say it, not when you can feel the room swimming around you, when you know you’re half inbreviated and it will seem as if the words you utter out, especially ones that should be saved for the right time, which was certainly not now.

“I know.”

His voice is soft, with surpirisngly, no edge to it. Your gaze snaps up to stare at him, blinking incredulously at his words. He knew? He knew you were…

“Your wanted posters took a lot of money to take down you know.”

Oh fuck. He does know. He knows you’ve killed innocents, you’ve shed blood all in the name of a monster who groomed you into the being you are now.

But that… that didnt change anything. Contrary to what you thought, he didnt look angry. He didnt look betrayed, he looked… almost amused and perhaps slightly relieved. He doesnt look at you like you thought you did. Aventurine chuckles lightly at your flabbergasted expression on your presumably flushed face.

“I did feel hurt at first. But honestly, [𓏵], considering you’ve betrayed the person whom you’ve always followed, i guess my luck really is true afterall to have been the one to earn your loyalty instead~.”

The relief comes crashing over you in a tidal wave. You’ve been dreaming of this for nights, hoping to find the time to admit your true origins, to not have to keep lying to the man who perks you up every morning as you watch him pet the creatures that pounce on him while drinking your coffee. You were ready to accept he’d probably never want to see you again, he’d turn you in.

And a smile tugs at your lips.

ׂ╰┈➤ (6 minutes.)

Secrets are hard to come by from him.

Aventurine is a master deceptor. That also means he has many secrets. Even now, after you’ve peeled away what you think would have been all the walls keeping his true self hidden, there’s still so much more to unravel.

Even now, as you accompany the Astral Express, touring them around your planet because it just so happened to be their next stop after Amphoreous, you find that, perhaps you’ve shared more secrets, more of the little things about yourself than he ever has with you.

It’s a little disheartening, but you ignore that feeling when you think about the fact that he’s changed a lot since when you first met him, when all you thought of him then was a easy, predictable and snobbish target, rather than a scarred man that hides his wounds away with loose bandages of bravado and arrogance.

In the home you once lived in, dusting away the thin layer of grey that has settled over the barren furniture that you haven’t laid eyes on for years since you lost your identity to blood, Aventurine whistles as he trails after you, tapping the surfaces of the wooden table, the leather chair that sits forlornly in the corner of the room.

“Y’know, this place is terribly dreary. I can see why you don’t like coming back here often.”

He jokes, and you find yourself chortling internally alongside him. After working for the Duke, you’ve forgotten who you were before all that. Were you living a good life? Was it a terrible one? Was it unremarkable, therefore you don’t remember what it was?

It doesn’t matter. That life is one you wont ever return to. Not when you’ve found a place at last.

The rest of the day is a blur as it’s mostly the pink haired girl and the grey haired friend of hers that follow you through your planet, while Aventurine strolls alongside you while buying them anything they set their eyes on. You’re sure the vendors are very happy with the sudden mass profit.

The night that follows is quiet and serene, and you are sitting in the living room of the abandoned house, staring at the wooden boards of the floor as you fiddle gently with your sleeve. It’s close to midnight, and you cant sleep, because there have been whispers that the planet is possibly being targetted by the Annihilation Gang.

You wont admit it, but it feels like the space is closing in on you, as if all your nightmares are coming true. There was a Stellaron sealed deep in your planet, somewhere where no man has ventured deep enough to locate, which is the reason the Astral Express is here to begin with.

The people who cultivated almost your entire purpose and life, growing you like a delicate plant, who definitely swore revenge on your defiance, is coming to your planet to destroy it, and the only person you would give your life for is on this planet as well.

That is also the only comfort that is preventing you from going over the edge is the fact that Aventurine is sitting right beside you, leaning back as he scrolls through his phone. You’re surprised he isnt complaining about how tattered the couch is from years of neglect, as you breathe in slowly and exhale, calming your racing heart.

“[𓏵].”

The gambler’s voice comes out soft and hesitant, as he sets his phone down, your eyes trailing from the gold casing that you were never going to admit was tacky, to Aventurine’s eyes, watching how he stays silent for a few moments too long.

“I have a secret I want to share with you.”

The words make you raise a eyebrow. Aventurine has many secrets. Sometimes, the secrets aren’t even secrets at all, he just says the words so he can keep you hooked on what he was saying. Sure, it’s not like you dont hand onto every word that leaves his mouth half the time, noo.

The silence stretches between the two of you, but before he could tell you what he was trying to desperately to utter, a loud explosion booms through the streets, the windows of your shabby house shattering as you instinctively jump to cover Aventurine to shield him.

They are here. And from the distinct sounds of the Duke’s children, you know they are 100% here for you.

“Go, the back door is a right down the hall. Find the trailblazer and the girl and tell them what happened.”

You brush off the glass, wincing at how the sharp, thin edges slice through your palms, ignoring the pain as you turn to leave, your hand on the door knob, pausing as you feel Aventurine’s hands grab your wrist, turning back to meet his wide, almost desparete gaze.

“[𓏵], what are you doing?”

He hissed lowly, gazing at you as he tried to pull you back, back to him, back to where he at least will have the comfort of knowing you’ll at least be by his side if the time for him to perish really does come, the moment his luck runs out.

“I am looking out for you, sir, like always. I’ll come back.”

You mutter softly, though the words are uncertain, hesitant, because you know that you won’t make it back. This will be the last time you’ll see Aventurine, but you offer the reassurance anyways, because it makes your heart ache, the way the gambler is so unwilling to let you go.

“But I—”

You chuckle, gently prying the man’s hands off your wrist as your weak smile wavers ever so slightly, there’s a pounding feeling in your chest, but it doesnt reach your eyes as you instead, take his hands into yours. The raw fear that courses through you is unlike any other emotion you have felt in your life. Your death is inevitable, yet you cant seem to accept it yet.

“I will come back, sir. And when I do, you shall tell me your secret.”

The lie rolls off your tongue smoothly, leaving your lips as a definitive statement. The racing beat of your heart slows as you see Aventurine’s expression slowly morph into one of acceptance, and you watch with a heavy heart as he gives you brief smile before stepping backwards, his shoes crunching on glass as he leaves through the backdoor.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare at his silhouette dissapear, though despite the pain that almsot seems to swallow you whole, as the sounds of the people who have come to take your head draws nearer, you smile bitterly as you know, the last thing you’ll remember is his smile.

The sounds of the world muffles around you as the door splinters, as your vision fades to black.

ׂ╰┈➤ (7 minutes.)

Footsteps echo through the wrecked streets of the planet that has suffered the fiery wrath of the Anihhilation Gang. The memokeeper’s heels come to a stop in front of the body that is slumped agaisnt the wall, gold liquid seeping from their wounds as the molten blood bubbles and burns through the stone pavements. There’s a cracked piece of jewelry scattered near the base of their feet.

“I hope that at the very least, these echoes of the past bring you some form of comfort before you meet your maker.”

Her hands gently find their face, two fingers closing the vacant, lifeless eyes. There’s a smile on thier face, even if ever so small. Perhaps even in death, those memories embraced them as the world around grew cold and empty. Perhaps, they won’t feel the weight of regrets of having left so much unsaid.

fin.

ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name

The alarm blared you awake as you sit up, your hand fumbling by your bedside for the earring Aventurine had gifted you months ago, before it hits the button on your phone to mute the annoying noise making your hed pound.

Turning the screen to you, the numbers read 7:30 am, a rare timing for you to wake as your usually up and about at 4:00- 4:30am, ready to wake Aventurine at precisely at 6 to start the day.

But, the date reads 5 May. The day of the Kakava, and Sir’s birthday. You know this because he’d mentioned it in passing before, when you were accomapnying him through a mall for his usual shopping sprees, and in a arcade, a birthday party was being held for a young boy.

A girl, perhaps a few years older than him, was standing beside him, cheering him with the boy’s friends while he blew out the candles. You caught a glimpse of Aventurine’s face, how he stares a bit too long at the sibling duo, and how his eyes look fondly at them, and how his smile falters before it cheers up and he looks away again.

You dont know much about Aventurine, in all honesty. You only knew he came from Sigonia, and was possibly one of the last Avgins from his homeplanet, and that was only because late one night, you’d gone back to the IPC’s library to consult the records.

Birthdays were a occasion that was not so revered in Everflame mansion. When you came of age, they were barely acknowleged at all, because such occasions never served your job a purpose.

But when Aventurine first managed to pry that information out of you, your last birthday was him spoiling you 24/7 with lavish gifts and decadent food. Sure, he does it often, but you notice that he’d made the effort to buy you things you want, food you had been dying to taste, unlike the inital gifts where it was more of trying to buy your loyalty.

However, Aventurine is rich. He’s a trillionare, maybe even richer than one, consideirng you watched him spend 3 trillion dollars betting on something against the grey haired trailblazer, while you had a decent income just by being his bodyguard.

Therefore, he is able to buy eveyrthing to your heart’s desire, and by entent, his own. How are you supposed to appease his tatses? All the things you think of buying for him, one, he’d either refund the purchase, or it’s something he has already has or tried before.

The only thing that you can think of, is cooking for him. Aventurine, as extravagent and as expensive his tastebuds are, he has shit eating habits. If he isnt eating out with you or during meetings and events, he practically lives off coffee from the hours he spends in his office, you have to be the one to remind him to eat because at best, he’ll microwave instant noodles or a snadwich. It’s infuriating, because he’s always teasing you for eating badly yourself, yet he doesnt take his own advice.

You wouldnt say you’re great at cooking. Your hands were precise and still, making it easy for things like cracking eggs, and knife skills come in handy when cutting and carving fruits. But other things like perfecting the heat of a pan are not your strong suits. Staring at the recipe page detailing a step by step instruction on how to make pancakes, you stare at the part where they said to seperate the yolks and whites before glancing back at the bowl where you had whisked them both together.

You hope the smell of the failed pancakes that sit on a plate either raw or burnt dont wake up Aventurine. Coupled with his terrible eating habits, he sleeps rather late and gets up early. You’ve never seen him when he just wakes up, but you’ve seen him with dark rims round his eyes, and you’d rather he wake up on his own time. The cats are meowing incessantly at your feet, maybe they’ll serve as his mini alarm clocks with how loud they’re complaining about being hungry.

When 8:15 rolls around, you hear footsteps pattering slugishly down the steps, and a there’s a small smile you quikcly suppress out of instinct. You’re proud of what you have accomplished, a decent breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon that you had pulled out from the forgotten asscrack of the freezer. The unsuccessful pancakes are on your own plate, and the coffee is steaming in his mug.

“[𓏵]? What is…?”

Ah. Groggy and disoriented, it’s rare for you to ever see Aventurine not looking like his usual smug self and ready with his witty quips. The cat cakes meow loudly as they leap to his feet, one of them pawing and prancing at his feet while the other two leap on the kitchen counter to try and cling onto the gambler.

You let yourself smile lightly, grabbing the plate and setting it gently in front of Aventurine, pursing your lips as one of the cat cakes decide to paw at your slippers, the other two still seeking attention while Aventurine pets them. His pyjamas are loose, and his neck and part of his chest are exposed. You watch as he snags a strawberry slice into his mouth, watching his eyes open from the sweetness.

“I thought you’d be hungry.”

You mutter awkwardly, cringing internally at the shit conversation starter, sighing as you scratch the back of your neck, your eyes softening as you gaze at Aventurine, who is looking at the food with a suprised look, which doesnt surprise you entirely, you know part of his past, he’d probably never had much of a decent breakfast, much less have anyone make some for him.

“It’s your birthday, you told me back in December when we were shopping.”

Aventurine’s gaze tilts to face you, his stunned expression sticking as his mouth opens in silence. No one has truly knows his birthday, save for a few like Topaz and Ratio, who send him birthday texts and leave gifts on his office desk. But he’s used to having a silent birthday, just buying a small cake and with only the cats to keep him company on the very day where his life went downhill.

“I dont celebrate birthdays often, I… actually dont think I’ve had one myself until you bothered to smother me with gifts and extravagence.”

You sigh, standing awkwardly agsint the counter as you stare at the floor, blinking as one of the cat cakes stare back with big, googly eyes that make it seem like they have absolutely no thoughts in thier eyes, unlike you, because there are thousands of thoughts racing through your mind.

The man cuts off your thoughts as he stands up, walking towards you and wrapping hesitant arms around you, and the warmth of his body, the proximity makes your face heat up, stiffening as your right arm gently wraps around Aventurine, your palm finding his waist as you lock eyes.

“Aventurine-”

“Kakavasha.”

He interupts you, pulling away from the hug while you’re internally dissapointed at the lack of warmth, your eyes making contact as the blond gazes at you with a soft, grateful look as he smiles, a genuine one.

“My name is Kakavasha, [𓏵].”

After a few moments of silence, you nod. The morning light bounces off Kakavasha’s face, making him impossibly handsome in the bright light, his hair is accentuated by the warm shine, your heart races faster as your hand finds his.

“Yes, of course, sir.”

You murmur softly, the cats yowling wildly in thier protest of not being fed, and Kakavasha laughs as one of them pounced on the counter and smushes thier way between you, the other two trying to accompany it.

“Happy birthday, Kakavasha.”

fin.

ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name

The night in Pier Point is lively. Of course it would be, it housed the IPC’s headquarters, and by extension, a lot of the IPC employees, and many rich buisness people or people of similar standings often come to this planet, whether for deals are made under the table, for the most part, rather unimpressive but horrendously expensive cuisines, and for the casinos.

Casinos are Aventurine’s second home, with how often he’s there and how often he’s winning every single game he’s in, his name is a popular topic amongst the gossip girlies who sit at the bar and try to find a rich man to bed and siphon money from.

In the months you have been in Aventurine’s employment, you are very familiar with the bright chandeliers than hang above the large rooms, the roundtables often having people crowded around them, and the arcade machines have people either leaping for joy as they have won, or have people yelling in rage and trashing the area around them before being kicied out of security.

Aventurine gambles in those luxurious, private rooms with people of his stature. You accompany him without any complaint from the security at the zone, partially because you threatened the last security guard who tried to forcefully keep you from doing your job with shoving a heap of casino chips up his anus.

Aventurine always seats himself in one of the red cushioned chairs, his fingers will trace over the sleek black wood while your hands will be crossed behind your back, your form is situated right beside him, your presence serving as a warning for most intelligent people that you were not above violence when it comes to your job.

Every hour, the stack of chips in your boss’s name increases, to the point that it had to be transferred to another table from the staggering amount, the sight itself discouraging a few weak willed to give up and forfeit, while the rest will greedily gaze at the chips as if they were of pure gold, thinking they would definitely win them.

Eveyrtime you see one of those people again, you scoff internally and roll your eyes and give Aventurine a look, your lips will be pursed as the gambler grins back at you through rose tinted lenses. Aventurine plays for the thrill, the rest play for their own greedy desires.

At the end of the night, when the final card is played, Aventurine is always the winner. The people across from him are either resigned, regretful they didnt forfeit with dignity, some keeping their composure from crumbling as they struggle not to breakdown or rage, and the final, most unpleasant type of unsavory character you deal with, the ones who spew insults and make any menacing moves.

You never needed to use actual violence. Your hand slamming with controlled force on the edge of the table, just enough to tilt it and hit the ground with a resounding ‘thud’, your lips pressed into a tight scowl, and your gaze lingering on whoever dares make a move. It shuts them down successfully, no words or blows needed to be exchanged, and you get a teasing compliment from your boss, which makes your heart leap in its chest.

Tonight was suppose to be a regular a night. Aventurine was winning, per usual. But the man across him… the final player in the game, was someone you recognised from your assassin days. He wasn’t one of your targets, but when you were sneaking around mansion, you noticed him making shady deals with the Duke, overhearing that since they followed the same Aeon, they should join forces.

And that man was not a pleasant one. Middle aged and balding, a thick cigar in his mouth, the smoke making you turn your nose up while Aventurine seems unbothered, a pouchy stomach to add to his unpleasant smell of whiskey reeking off him, so much different from how your boss will cutely, drunkenly cling to you on rare occasions.

The moment Aventurine lays his cards on the table, the cards displaying those numbers and shapes you dont exactly understand despite months of trying to study poker techniques to impress the gambler, and the middle aged man in front of you goes into a stunned silence, his cigarette dropping out of his mouth as he gazes wildly at the fact he has lost, lost to some lucky dog from the IPC.

“This- this is rigged! You cheated! There is no way you could have won against me!”

Aventurine, calm and composed as ever, laughs at the man’s enraged state, resting his cheek on his knuckles as he crossed one leg over the other, a smirk gracing his expression as he teasingly tuts his tongue, your eyes widning slightly as your pupils dart between the growing fury of the middle aged man and the way Aventurine doenst care of provoking him.

“Oh? Y’know, if i got a million dollars for everytime i heard someone say that, I’ll be ri-”

“Shut up, you Sigonian dog!”

The way Aventurine’s smile falters slightly as his eyes widen behind his lenses, and the way he seems to remember something he doesnt want to, something he has long since tried to keep buried, and the bubbling fury that starts to simmer under the surface of your skin.

“You fucking Avgin scammer, you think i wont see your tricks and lies? Did you use that mouth of yours to weasel your way to winning?”

The man continues his profanity infused tirade, eyes darting wildly before they landed on the branding located on Aventurine’s neck, his chair screeching back, the whiskey smell assaults your nostrils as he walks around the table, and Aventurine, frozen, almost, just barely shrinks back out of instinct, a hint of fear in his eyes as the man’s hand reach out to try and grab your boss’s chin with his disgusting hands.

“Someone should teach you your place, little slave, someone like you doenst deserve to sit at this table.”

Your hand reaches out to grab the man’s arm before he could touch your boss, giving him a silent glare of warning, your hand clenching at it’s side. It does little to deter the man, as he balls his hand into a fist and punches you right in the face, your vision blurred for a few seconds though your grip doesnt loosen.

“So you’re the so called ‘fearsome bodyguard’ for the IPC, eh? You dont look like much other than a rabid dog.”

The man’s slurred sneer is cut short by his scream as in one, swift flick of your wrist, you snap his elbow in the wrong way. A fury bubbles in your chest, raw and ugly as you send a hard kick to the man’s pudgey stomach with the tip of your shoe, watching him kneel over and cough blood from the sheer force, you make sure it only gets on your uniform instead of Aventurine’s.

Your hands reach out to grab the man’s neck, tossing him effortlessly against one of the tables across the room, the others who were staring wide eyed at the scene panicking as champagne glasses shatter as they rush out of the room or scoot to a corner to keep watching the show. It sickens you, how they see this as a type of entertainment, but you have more important things to deal with.

You growl lowly, your primal instincts of carnage taking over, grabbing the man from the middle of the broken table as coloured wooden shards are embedded in his back, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth and nose, your face edging to the side, your voice a low, dangerous whisper.

“Do you believe in Aeons?”

The man is clearly terrified, considering someone who is half his size has not only given him a broken nose and elbow, that same person just tanked a hard hit to their nose with no substantial damage. Yet, he foolishly tries to intimidate you, and you can feel Aventurine’s gaze on your back, in your haze of anger, you can’t figure out whether he’s staring at you in fear or something else.

“Hah, you’re defending that Sigonian pig so nobly? Do you know who I a-”

You slam him into the floor, your sharp teeth baring as you tighten your grip, only needing your non dominant hand to hold him down, your other hand brandishing a gun that cocks under the man’s jaw, your voice soft, deceptively so, with a undercurrent of threat. Blood trickles from your nose onto the man’s shirt.

“I dont give two shits who you are. I don’t give a damn of what Aeon you worship. Divine judgement doesnt scare me at all.”

“Your Aeon can look me straight in the eyes, asking me why I decided to pull the trigger and let your brains paint the wall behind you right now, I’ll proudly tell THEM I’ll do it again.”

You snarl scathingly, your fingers digging into the skin round the man’s neck. Your enveloped in a shadow of your past. Violence was all you ever knew for a long time, and after meeting Aventurine, resolving to not work for the Annhilation Gang anymore, you have tried hard to pacify your temper. And now, you’d gladly make this pig, and the people who are staring, almost anticipating your next move, as your outlets.

He looks pathetic, in all honestly. The man below you, one you used to stay away because he was in cahoots with eth Duke, was now at your very mercy, currently looking paled and about to have a heart attack, yet still keeps up the act of being all high and mighty. He doesnt know nor remember you, but you’ll make sure he does.

“You really are just the IPC’s pathetic dog, arent you? Defending some Sigonian slave because he sucks you off?”

A single shot rings out as the man lets out a cut off noise, one eye popping out of it’s socket as pink, fleshy brain matter and crimson blood soak the room’s walls, one of the women huddled in the corner screaming in terror as you feel the blood splatter across you face, mixing with your own, watching the man’s body convulse. If he had just shut up, you would have let him go. Oh well.

You get up and smoothen your clothes, red soaking into your tie, your eyes casting upon the group in the corner who were watching the entire ordeal play out. The room is deathly silent as you take one step closer, your gun still smoking at the tip.

“Leave.”

That single word sends everybody save for Aventurine scrambling, and the security guards who take one step in immediately shrink back when they see the carnage that has befalled the room. Your breathing is shallow and ragged, your eyes darting from the corpse to Aventurine, who stares blankly at the floor. You’re able to discern that internally he’s distraught, and you start to panic.

Was he disgusted with your actions? He wasnt supposed to see you like this. Like a vicious predator that gnaws and rips apart it’s prey. It feels as if the months of trying to control your temper, prevent and restrain your intent to shed blood and bathe in the crimson, but it seems in the end, there was only one thing that makes you snap.

“Sir. Sir, are you alright?”

You’ll have your existential crisis later, now, your instinct makes you want to comfort Aventurine, but when your hands reach out to try and touch him, you freeze before your fingers can reach for his, staring dumbfoundedly at the blood that soaks them. The corpse behind you is completely still, blood pooling under his head.

You blink once, twice, before settiling for holding the armrest of the chair, since at least the blood wont be too visible on the dark paint, watching Aventurine carefully, observing how he straightens his glasses, laughing softly, clearly forced in a attempt to calm himself down.

“I’m fine, [𓏵], afterall, my darling bodyguard has protected and taken a hit for me once more~”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Your words come out snappy, leftover adrenaline from having killed someone after so long making your heart pace faster, giving your boss a firm glare, not a harsh one, just one that makes him stop putting up that false wall of bravado. You close your eyes when his smile drops at your irritated tone, your blood trickling into your mouth as you sigh.

“I saw the way his comments affected you. I wont pry why he was making those comments, it isnt my business. But my business, is making sure you feel safe.”

You wipe your hands on your pants as you gently take Aventurine’s trembling hands into your own, staring at your reflection in the polished gold of the rings, seeing the blood that spaltters across your features, and the bruise that is forming on your nose from the punch. You widen your eyes a little as the gambler’s hand pries away from yours, his fingers running gently over your face.

“You’re hurt, [𓏵]. I’ll bring you to the medical wing later.”

Aventurine murmurs softly, his smug front gone as he lets himself be just a bit more vulnerable as his hand traces your jaw tenderly, his mouth downturned as he stares at your bruised nose and all the blood, his eyes trailing behind you to the corpse, a piece of brain matter splatting on the floor as your boss smirks slightly.

“I’ll pay for a cleanup crew. I’m not letting my precious bodyguard go to jail tonight.”

You snort softly, walking over to the table full of casino chips, a low whistle escaping as you take one that sits at the top of one of the stacks, fiddling with it clumsily in your hands, glancing at the manager of the casino that was standing hesitantly at the entrance of the room door.

“Cash these in, will you?”

fin.

You cleared your throat, looking away.

Right.

Perhaps sneaking kisses in empty hallways hadn't been your brightest idea.

Or leaving the office hand in hand.

Or sharing lunches.

Or arriving together every morning.

Or the fact that practically everyone had seen Aventurine waiting outside your office with coffee whenever you worked overtime.

You honestly thought people simply didn't care.

.... You were wrong, clearly.

"...And we're not being fired?" you asked cautiously.

"Quite the opposite." Opal chuckled. "Diamond believes employees perform better when they occasionally remember they're human."

"...That doesn't sound like something Diamond would say." you argued. 

"It doesn't."

"..."

"It was Jade."

That somehow made far more sense.

A few days later, you found yourself standing beneath warm sunlight on a nameless tropical planet.

The air smelled of salt and flowers. The waves glittered beneath a cloudless sky.

For the first time in what felt like forever, your communicator was silent.

No emergencies. No meetings. No urgent requests.

Just peace.

The hotel itself was absurdly luxurious.

The suite overlooked the ocean, sunlight spilling across polished floors while a gentle breeze carried the sound of distant waves through the open balcony doors.

Aventurine walked inside first. "...No way." He slowly turned in a circle. "The IPC actually spent money on us."

You shrugged as you dragged your suitcases in. "I was expecting one complimentary towel and a motivational pamphlet."

"Honestly, same."

You had just finished setting the suitcases neatly in the corner of your assigned room when the mattress creaked behind you.

Turning around, you found Aventurine standing proudly in the middle of the king-sized bed.

"...What are you doing?"

He spread his arms dramatically. "Claiming my kingdom, darling."

You laughed lightly, shaking your head before walking closer. "Come down before you hurt yourself."

"Nope!" he answered immediately. Instead, he bent at the waist and reached a hand toward you. "Come on, up you come~"

You stared at him for a long moment before sighing through an amused smile. "...You're impossible."

He simply wiggled his fingers in invitation. "Come oooon." 

You took a step forward, reluctantly interlocking your fingers with his. He grinned victoriously and with a sharp tug, he pulled you up on the bed. 

The bed bounced beneath your feet, forcing both of you to grab onto each other to keep your balance. His hand settled on your waist, while yours rested against his shoulder. 

"Hm, this is nice." he whispered softly near your ear, gently guiding you into a dance. 

It was terribly childish. And yet you were smiling anyway. 

"We don't even have music." you glanced up at him. 

"I can sing for you." 

"Please don't." 

Aventurine pouted at your immediate dismissal, muttering something about how it was your loss. 

You could see the waves rolling gently against the shore through the window. It was a calming sound, something that became your music now. 

The two of you shuffled back and forth across the mattress, every step sinking into the soft bed until whatever rhythm you were aiming for dissolved completely.

He attempted a clumsy twirl, all confidence and poor execution, only for you to immediately step on his foot.

"... Sorry." you barely held back your laugh. 

He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he smiled like it was the most natural outcome in the world.

"It’s fine," he replied lightly. "I find even the pain you inflict on me quite endearing."

Your face immediately turned sour. "Ew." 

Aventurine blinked and then laughed so hard his shoulders shook, pulling you into another clumsy turn.

The mattress bounced beneath both of you.

Your balance disappeared almost instantly.

"Aventurine—"

"I've got you—"

"No, you don't!?"

His foot caught in the tangled sheets.

Your knees buckled.

For one glorious second, the two of you flailed in complete panic. Then almost instantly, you both collapsed onto the bed in a tangled heap of limbs and laughter.

The mattress bounced beneath you again.

You ended up sprawled across his chest while he lay flat on his back, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

"Oops," he squeezed your waist in an apology. "Guess I am not much of a dancer?"

You rolled your eyes. "I noticed."

Silence settled for a moment, broken only by the sound of distant waves and the occasional breathless chuckle.

You were about to get up, pushing against the silk sheets when Aventurine pulled you back down. "Running away so soon?" he mused.

His fingers traced a teasing motion down the curve of your back. "We are laying together in a ridiculously expensive hotel," his voice was soft, lips grazing the edge of your ear. "Are you seriously going to leave me all alone?"

You raised a brow. It was obvious what he was trying to do, and yet you played along anyway. 

"Was this your plan all along Mr. P46?"

He pretended to consider it, turning his head toward the balcony as if the answer might be written somewhere beyond it. Blond strands slipped over his eyes, hiding his expression just for a moment.

He looked breathtaking like this. Beneath you, gasping for air yet still peeking at you like you were everything he desired and more. 

"And if it is?" he questioned. 

"...Then I guess," you let out a slow breath, your eyes flickering down to his parted lips. "I have to indulge you a bit, hm?"

Your vision went dark as you closed the distance, your lips meeting his halfway. 

A content sigh escaped Aventurine's mouth. For a moment, he let the gentle sensation simmer, enjoying the warmth you bought.

.

But patience had never been his strength.

In a sudden, decisive movement, his hands caught your shoulders and guided you back onto the mattress.

Above you, it was as if a switch had been pressed. The kiss turned frantic, clumsy movements and wet sounds filling the space around you. 

Amid it all, his gaze never left you. Every flicker in your expression, every subtle shift in your breath, he took in greedily, as if your reactions alone were a feast he couldn’t afford to miss.

"You are so..." he pulled back, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips before it broke apart. He never finished the sentence, his words betraying him even before he had the chance to utter them. 

His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his vest, but he didn’t bother slowing down, too intent on you to care about the mess of it.

His mouth finally broke away from yours, only to drift lower, trailing along your jaw before settling at the curve of your neck.

Every time he hovered near a spot, he’d leave behind a small sting, a crimson bloom spreading across your skin. And the moment you flinch at the sharp edge of pleasure wrapped in pain, he would simply soothe it with a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue—as if it were your reward.

The vest was finally tossed onto the floor and eventually so were your clothes.

The first night at the tropical beach ended with ruined sheets and late mornings.

Fin

ajax worked as a gun for hire, of sorts. he was employed by some mysterious woman dubbed ‘the tsaritsa’, who owned a parlour bar. now, the place was real nice, nobody could deny that. it was modelled after the cold city that the owner was from. some cold and far off place, where shards of ice hung from the corners of rooftops like angels of death and people froze in their beds. at first, the job had been relatively straightforward. keep an eye out for trouble out the front, and an ear for rowdy customers in the back. it was easy, not many customers were of the troublemaking kind, and the money was good.

maybe… a little too good for what it was.

ajax would roll his sleeves up, lean against the entrance, and subtly try to listen to bits and pieces of people’s conversations inside to pass the time — and that’s when he started to notice things. strange folk from far off would come in, sit right up at the bar and beg and plead under their breath for just one sip of it. that they’d made such a long journey just for that, and life had been just so cruel this year. sometimes they would play a card like the loss of a loved one, or gambling away all their money, or a spouse running off into the sunset with someone else. at this point, ajax had heard nearly every reason under the sun. and sandrone, the bar lady, would occasionally lose her temper.

“we haven’t got any of that left. try coming back next year.”

“but please! please, please. i’ll do anything.”

anything?

ajax frowned, shaking his head as he slipped a toothpick between his teeth.

he knew it couldn’t be just any old drink they served behind that bar, nor was it something they whipped out for just any customer who asked. what was even stranger was the customers who were lucky enough to get a glass of whatever it was. ajax would notice the way they came out of the bar, and he’d swear — swear on every bit of life he had in his bones — that they didn’t seem like they were part of this world anymore. they were more like ghosts than human. ajax would never forget the way his skin crawled the first time he saw it, and what unnerved him even more about it was how blissful the customers looked. as if nothing could ever possibly make them so unhappy again. he would watch as they gazed up at the sky with cloudy eyes and a windswept smile, before wandering off into the town.

and they were never seen again.

something definitely wasn’t right.

but he never did anything about it, nor did he try to sneak around and find out exactly what was going on. ajax minded his own business and worked outside that bar for precisely another two years before the tsaritsa approached him.

“you,” she noted, a thin cigarette between two pretty peach lips. “have you got a horse?”

ajax cleared his throat. “yes, ma’am.”

“good. i need you to do something for me.”

and that was the day he found out what was being served behind the bar.

wine.

it was kept in a barrel in the back, in a cool and dark room filled specifically with sacks of potatoes and dried garlic, rosemary and thyme hanging from the ceiling. apparently, that was how the vintner demanded it be stored, or else it would spoil.

the vintner — you.

you, who lived a five days ride away. in a small cottage that was surrounded by berry bushes, various fruit trees, and a vineyard that stretched on for about an acre behind it. which wouldn’t be so odd, if not for the fact that you were in the middle of the deep desert where nothing good could possibly grow. the locals called you a witch, said you howled and screeched at the moon so loudly every night that they could hear you from the next town over. now, ajax wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural, and he still wasn’t.

mostly.

but… he couldn’t ignore what happened to the customers who drank your wine.

the tsaritsa had told him all this. and still, he only rolled back his shoulders and flashed her a brave grin. “i’ll do it.”

the first time he made the journey, ajax kept his wits about him. kept his gun real close by him at all times, didn’t even drink a drop of whiskey at night when he was resting by the little campfire at the end of each day. and when he finally caught sight of your cottage, he made sure that his trusty knife was tucked away into his back pocket for good measure before stepping inside.

and you?

you were nothing like how he’d thought you’d be.

you were beautiful — the most gorgeous creature he’d ever had the pleasure of looking at in his whole life. you were whimsical, words left your lips with all the soft airiness of fresh cotton, and you had a smile brighter than the sun and all the stars in the world. you welcomed him inside, offered him bread you’d just baked that morning, as well as a beautiful cup of deep, dark black coffee that ajax nearly moaned at the taste of.

and yet, and yet.

something wasn’t right.

just like those who drank your wine, you didn’t seem of this world either. but unlike the ghost-like patrons of your wine, you still seemed whole. he was still somewhat unnerved by you, but there was also something about you that strangely made him trust your intentions.

you never caused ajax any trouble at all.

not once.

so, he made the journey year after year without complaint, never stayed longer than an hour at your home before he strapped the barrel to the back of his horse and was on his way again. he wondered if anybody else ever came to visit you, although from the way the townsfolk shunned the mere mention of your name, he didn’t really think so. he wondered if you ever made anything else besides that one barrel of wine in the summer. he wondered what your favourite food was, if you ever did anything for your birthday. he wondered what sort of arrangement you have with the tsaritsa, and how it came to be.

one year, he wonders if you ever felt lonely.

ajax thinks about that one particular thing again, as he catches the familiar sight of your cottage on the horizon. this will be the fifth time he’s come to collect that barrel of summer wine from you. his horse snorts impatiently below him, stomping its front hooves. it’s still hot in the desert, ajax can see the sweat shining on his horse’s neck, and he knows it was due a break quite soon. he clicks his tongue twice, urging it forward. when he gets there, he ties the reins around a post, pulls up a spare bucket lying sideways in the dust and fills it with water for the horse.

then, he finds himself standing in front of your door.

and knocks once, then twice.

there is no answer for a moment.

and then, there’s a little click and a creak, and your sweet face is peeping out at him from a thin crack in the door.

ajax pretends that his heart doesn’t skip a beat.

“oh!” you softly exclaim. “it’s you.”

who else would it be?

but he doesn’t say this, but instead slips back into that charming, somewhat aloof nature of his. “it’s me!”

“it’s very nice to see you again,” you say politely, fully opening the door and beckoning him inside. “how have you been?”

“same old same old, can’t complain.”

not that he ever told you what same old was in the first place.

you nod. “i see. not much has changed here either. although, it’s been a bit of a tough harvest.”

“oh?”

“don’t worry, the tsaritsa will have her barrel as promised. i had just enough to make do.”

you motion for him to sit on your kitchen chair, before moving over to the kitchen to gather cups and other cutlery from a cupboard. ajax takes a seat, taking off his hat and putting onto the table to rest. the wonderful aroma of coffee plays about his nose like a sweet dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

this routine was normal.

you would pour each of you a cup of coffee, sit with him at the table, and make small talk over buttered sour dough bread. maybe, there might be some tinned peaches on the side. you’d talk about the weather and your plants, and ajax would talk about his job working at the bar, maybe work in a a funny story or two about an odd patron. there were never any sort of personal or deeper questions. after he’d finish3; up his bread and coffee, ajax would politely offer to wash up the dishes, to which you’d always refuse. then, he’d put his hat back on and say his goodbyes, and you’d see him on his way with a small smile on your face as he shouts over his shoulder, “see ya next year!”

and that was it.

ajax truly didn’t understand the fear associated with you.

but what he didn’t understand, was why the next few words popped out of his mouth.

“is it just you living out here?”

you still.

and his heart flutters beneath the confines of his ribcage.

“well… yes. why do you ask?”

ajax notices the little bit of sadness dripping into your words like the last few pathetic drops of water coming out of a tap.

he immediately regrets being the cause of it.

“because, well… should you really be out here all on your own?”

a little crease wrinkles your forehead, and you put down the piece of bread you had in your hand. “nobody bothers me. i think you know that already.”

you sigh, immediately following up with, “i know what they say about me. they think i’m some sort of witch.”

your dejection is obvious. still, it surprises ajax that you seem to care what people thought about you. he had assumed, perhaps naively, that you were at least somewhat happy doing your own thing and being in your own company. but what did he really know about you, truly? he saw you for one hour of one day out of the entire year.

who was he to think that he knew you?

ajax clears his throat. “sorry, i didn’t mean to cause offence.”

“it’s alright. it doesn’t bother me all that much anymore.”

your head drops, and you stare at the plate in resting front of you. it’s got sweet pink roses swirling around the rim of the plate, and you seem to be paying particular attention to the little crumbs dotted along the leaves. ajax leans forward in his chair, tilts his head sympathetically at you.

“c’mon now! besides, i don’t think witches can make such great coffee.”

but you only hum absentmindedly.

so, ajax tries something different.

he reaches over the table and covers your palm with his. you immediately look up, your eyes wide and lips parted with something that looks like shock. as if you’d never expect him to do such a thing, and really, ajax can’t believe he is either. the words struggle in his throat, because oh my god he’s touching you, and you’re real and all he can really focus on is the feeling of your skin on his palm.

and the fact that you’re rather cold.

a soft, white cloud flashes through his mind.

“i don’t think you’re a witch.”

he tries to say this with as much sincerity as he can muster. your eyes roam his face, like you’re waiting for a slight shift in his expression as he bursts out with a punchline of sorts. but it doesn’t come, and ajax doesn’t even crack a smile. he peers back at you with those storm kissed eyes of his and gives you an encouraging nod.

and keeps his hand firmly over yours.

“you don’t?” you ask so very quietly, and it breaks his heart a little.

ajax shakes his head. “never have.”

your lips part again.

“but—”

“people are frightened from all sorts of silly things,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. “doesn’t mean they’re right about it.”

the corner of your mouth twitches. ajax thinks you might just smile, but you don’t. however, your face looks far lighter, softer, than it did just a moment ago. you both stay just as you are for a moment longer, his hand over yours and thumb brushing against your skin as if it was already intimately familiar with you.

“… thank you.”

you whisper the words so delicately, he is reminded of little rabbits brushing against fresh dandelions in the spring.

ajax clears his throat. “don’t mention it.”

at this, he lets go of your hand.

reluctantly.

silence settles between you, but it isn’t awkward in the slightest. in fact, ajax feels this is the least unnerved he has ever felt around you. he almost feels… glum at the prospect of leaving you alone like this. but he knows he must, because that is the way of the world. you, here in this place and making your summer wine. and ajax, doomed to never stay and leave you behind year after year.

you eventually stand.

“i should show you were the barrel is.”

he nods, swallowing thickly.

ajax follows you outside towards a shed tucked away behind your cottage. the pleasant scent of cedar and rosemary tickles his nose, along with the smell of some sort of salted, smoked meat stored away. inside, the barrel is waiting for you two, neatly wrapped with fresh rope and three sprigs of thyme stuck to the lid. without another word, ajax heaves it over his shoulder with a quiet grunt, and you both walk back to his horse.

ajax stills.

“oh!” you exclaim, a hand over your mouth.

the animal was laying on the sand, breathing heavily as sweat dripped down its neck and haunches. ajax immediately puts the barrel down, rushing over to inspect the horse, running its hands across it. he glances up at the sun, noting it suddenly seemed far hotter than it did before he arrived, and that there was a lack of cool shade where it had been standing.

he curses under his breath. “think it’s been under the sun too long, maybe a case of heat stroke.”

you coo sympathetically. “will it be alright?”

“yeah, yeah. just… uh, i’ll not be out of your hair for a while longer. he needs rest. some water and shade before i try head back out there again.”

“you can maybe bring him round the back? there’s a nice shaded spot there.”

“much appreciated. it’s just… it might be morning before he’s well enough to ride.”

“that’s alright.”

he runs a hand down his face. “ah, the tsaritsa won’t be pleased with a delay.”

“ajax,” you say his name firmly. “i’m sure the tsaritsa would much prefer it if the both of you came back home safe and sound, with her wine intact.”

ajax rolls back and forth on the balls of his feet.

logically, he knows he cannot possibly venture back into the desert with the horse as weak as it is. he’d not make it back to town in one piece, and he didn’t have enough supplies with him for the amount of time it would take for him to walk the distance. but he felt so overwhelmingly guilty at the prospect of taking up your space and time.

at spending the night in your home.

“i’ll make supper.”

you offer this like it’s the only hope left you have left that he’ll stay. he tries not to convince himself that he even heard a trace of desperation in your voice.

and so, ajax flashes you a handsome grin.

“well, how can i say no to that?”

-•-

ajax can’t sleep.

he’s tossed and turned every which way he possibly can, flipped and fluffed up his pillows about a dozen times. he could not sleep, and he genuinely couldn’t understand why. you had made the most delicious meal — salt and pepper cabbage, carrots with a sweet mint sauce, and the juiciest roast chicken he’d ever had. you had even made some cherry pie for desert. ajax had felt so wonderfully sleepy and content after finishing his food, he thought he’d have the best sleep of his life.

but no.

not that the spare room you’d let him sleep in was uncomfortable or anything, quite the opposite. the furniture was all made of wood, making the room smell rather cozy. the quilts were made from the softest cotton, patterned with wild roses and honey bees on it. there were lots of little charming paintings up on the wall of trees and flowers and birds. you’d even given him a pitcher of sweet peach water to have by his bedside, a candle and a book to read, before you’d shyly bid him good night.

perhaps… this was all far too intimate for ajax.

he groans lightly, sitting up and leaning his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

fuck this.

ajax swings his legs over the bed and gets up before he can think about it too much. he tiptoes towards the door to his room, being careful to not to step over the floorboards he knew were creaky. he peeps his head out into the corridor, eyes falling straight onto the carpet, before falling to the sliver of space underneath your door.

oh.

your door was slightly ajar.

and your candle was still on.

is she awake?

ajax shoves down the part of him that is rational, the part that tells him to just lay in bed quietly until the morning. but he ignores it, electing to chase after the thrill of… whatever this was. he creeps over as slowly and quietly as possible, leaning back against the wall and straining his ears to listen and figure out if you were asleep or not.

he listens and listens.

and listens.

this is pointless. go back to—

“oh!”

ajax’s eyes almost pop out of his skull.

“oh, oh… ajax.”

…fuck!

and you were moaning his name.

he dares to take a peek.

fuck… and there you are. you’re lying on your stomach, your ass bare and sticking up into the air. he’s getting a perfect eyeful of every part of you — particularly the way your pretty folds are glistening, and the way your slender fingers are furiously pumping in and out of your hole.

he feels the blood rush into to his cock.

ajax eyes your white panties lying on the floor, the way evidence of your desire still stains the little piece of fabric.

“hngh! a-ajax… i can’t. i can’t.”

oh, you poor thing.

he briefly wonders if you knew he was there. and then he’s wondering how many times you’ve been like this, in this position and moaning his name, unable to satisfy yourself. how many times, over these long years? how many times have you imagined him touching you, satisfying you?

ajax can’t help himself.

he quietly spits on his palm, slips it down his breeches and slowly rubs it along his shaft. with each pump of your fingers into your poor pussy, ajax flexes his wrist and touches himself in time with you. your hips buck involuntarily, your legs spasming, and still — you obviously cannot cross that sweet finish line you’re chasing.

but ajax can.

how could he not? you look so pretty like this — all breathless and needy, your beautiful skin glistening with sweat in the candlelight. the way you’re moaning his name over and over with so much desire it’s making his head spin. he doesn’t think anybody in the whole world had ever sounded quite as lovely as you do saying his name.

ajax rolls his thumb over his tip, gently squeezing his cock.

he blinks.

and swears he sees a vision of you with quivering white wings on your back.

he blinks again, and it is gone.

with every lewd squelch of your puffy pussy, ajax finds himself closer and closer to the edge. he alternates between short and long strokes, being careful not to be too loud — he absolutely did not want this show to be over so quickly. he wants to imagine himself sinking deep into you from behind, the way his hands would perfectly grip your hips and pull you back onto his cock if you shied away from him — but he can’t. he had to keep his eyes open and locked onto you, and the way your wetness was dribbling down your legs and onto the sheets, otherwise he’d cum far too soon.

but one sharp cry from your lips has him stumbling over into his own ecstasy.

ajax traps his bottom lip between his teeth so hard he draws a little blood, as his orgasm ripples through him, thick cum splurting out all over his hands and soiling his briefs.

he let’s out a shaky breath, his cock still pulsing in his hand.

“oh… oh, please. i need to—”

you have a hand clapped over your mouth, as if you were trying to muffle your pathetic cries and moans.

poor baby.

his cock twitches.

with a breathy sigh, ajax steps through the boundary of your door. you haven’t noticed him, and you don’t, until he slides his cum drenched hand over your ass, all the way up your back, draping himself over you and nosing at your cheek.

you gasp, “you— what are you d-doing?”

“shh now, pretty girl,” he purrs into your ear. “let me take care of you now, yeah?”

he slides his sticky fingers up and down your folds, grinning against your skin as you slide further up the bed, your legs giving out a little from just his touch. the tip of his index finger slips just a little inside, teasing your entrance with the tiniest pump of his fingers.

“ajax,” you beg breathlessly. “please.”

he hushes you again. “i already know what you need. i’ve been watching you this whole time.”

still, he obliges you just a bit, pushing one long finger deep inside you. you moan loudly, grinding yourself shamelessly onto his digit. ajax curls it ever so slightly, feeling that spongy wall inside you, rubbing incessantly against it. you cry out and become even wetter around his finger, your legs shaking as he adds another digit into your hole.

“well,” he hums thoughtfully, splaying his two fingers apart inside you. “i think you’re more than ready for me now, aren’t you?”

you look over at him from your shoulder, all teary eyed, your perfect lips parted as you pant.

“i’ve been ready for a long time, cowboy.”

the way you say it, with a smooth tone that didn’t even have a hint of desperation in it, makes ajax stop his movements. he almost swears again, that there is a halo of light swirling around your form. that it looks like pristine feathers are falling from the ceiling, that your eyes are glowing at him.

but he blinks again, and the moment is gone.

“please,” you beg, sweetly wriggling your hips as that whininess curls around your tongue. “please, ajax.”

he clicks his tongue.

fuck it.

in a flash, he’s taken off his clothes, and his warm hand are sliding over your hips, squeezing your soft flesh. you groan as he teases and slaps his cock against you, sliding his fat tip against your entrance. and then, with a firm smack against your ass, ajax stuffs himself inside you.

“oh, shit,” he curses, a hand splaying over your tummy, his full weight falling onto you. “shit, shit, shit, baby doll. you feel like heaven.”

you laugh into your pillow, before it fizzles into breathy moans and cries of ecstasy. the sound of his balls going plap! plap! plap! against your pussy fills the little room as ajax sets a rough and fast pace, bucking his hips into you with untamed fervour. why you were laughing, he doesn’t know. all ajax cares about in this moment is giving you the pleasure you’ve been so desperately chasing. he watches the way your ass recoils with every thrust, the way you finally, finally seem to be getting somewhere. ajax rolls his hips, grinding his cock deeper into you, notes the way you’re squeezing tighter and tighter around him.

“i can feel you’re close,” he huffs into your ear, his own orgasm threatening to hit him at any moment. “i want you to promise to be real messy for me now, okay sweetheart?”

you nod, your eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. ajax smirks at the way you’re too cock drunk to even respond properly. still, he cruelly slows his pace right the way down, reaches down to pinch and squeeze at your nipples.

“use your words. promise me you’ll make such a big mess on my cock.”

you let out a sweet little whine, trying to grind yourself on him beneath him. “i promise! promise, promise… please! don't stop now.”

he lightly slaps your cheek. “good girl.”

your mouth falls open in a silent scream as ajax all but drills into you with his cock, dragging his thick length in and out of you with a renewed vigour. within a minute, your orgasm rips through you like a bolt of lightning. you cry out his name again and again, your walls squeezing so deliciously around him that ajax spills his load right the way inside you. he feels you squirt messily, your legs spasming beneath his thick thighs as you moan into your patterned sheets.

for a moment, it is still.

you both lay just like that, with ajax still pressing his full weight onto you. he's panting just as hard as you now, sweat trickling down his temple as his face falls into your neck.

and then, he notes — he’s still very much hard.

ajax’s hand softly grips your throat, bringing your head close into the crook of his neck, his pace turning into something sweeter. his cock drags slowly in and out of you. you hum tiredly, still trapped in a fucked out, dreamy haze of his own making. what the hell… what the hell are you doing to him? how could he have cum twice already, and still — still — ajax wasn’t done with you.

don’t ask. don’t ask.

“what’s in your wine?”

idiot!

you cry out as the tip of his cock rubs against a sweet, still sensitive spot inside you. for a moment, you don’t answer. all ajax can hear is your pretty moans in his ear, feel his milky cum spilling out of you and squelching around his cock.

“strawberries.”

he grunts as you squeeze and flutter around him.

“cherries.”

you tip your head back, wet lips grazing his cheek.

“and an angel’s kiss in spring.”

ajax feels his blood run cold.

the last thing he remembers is seeing you smile, and a bright heavenly light flashes right through to the back of his eyeball, enveloping everything that he is.