It’s not worn, its well loved.

With a grumble under his breath, he acquiesced. Cause fuck if the kid wasn’t right? He needed to teach them more irresponsibility honestly. He was never going to hear the end of it from Semiu, he just knew it. 

“Finish your sweep and the faster we can start heading back. Come on people, it's a long way back from here.”

And it was. You were silent almost the entire trip. It wasn’t until Enjin prodded you for some of your belongings to sell that you finally spoke. He explained they would need the money but that it was also a safety precaution for you. It was best to not be injured and dripping in high value items. Only one struggle was allowed.

You refused to part with your earrings, lovely, delicate, dangly little things.

“Shame, those earbobs would have made a killing too.”

There was a considerable silence and a pensive look on your face. You were many things but ungrateful or unreasonable were not any of them. Anyone could have found you and done anything with you. Your ankle was swollen and clearly a new unwanted complication to this landscape. They didn’t have to help. It would have made their own trip back home to safety easier. The least you could do was help where you could.

“Not my earrings but… here.” You unlooped your arm from the young teen boy that helped you hobble along.

Team Akuta watched you pull a beautiful ring off your left hand. Enjin studied you for a moment when you presented it to him. He cut through the tension with a jest.

“Ya sure, lady? This looks like some nice family heirloom or something?”

“It isn’t. I won’t be needing it anymore anyhow.”

You were weary of everything, the entire trip back and your whole first week on the ground. Dilated pupils and hitched breath with every new face that approached you. 

You warmed up to the kids first, then Semiu, then Eisha and August. But it wasn't until the boss, himself, came to speak with you a few days later in the infirmary that you finally seemed to settle. 

Arkha Corvus took his time, calmly and patiently, explained everything to you about the Cleaners and what they did. You had what felt like an endless stream of follow up questions.

Color Enjin fucking surprised when at the very end of you lengthy conversation with Corvus, you asked to sign up.

Corvus tried to comfort you with the possibility of returning home. He told you about some people’s pursuit of finding a way back to the Sphere and offered a likeness to bond over with Rudo.

Enjin’s jaw damn near dropped when you politely refused that avenue.

“I would like to sign up… but I do not want to go back.”

While you were not shy to voice your discomfort, one complaint you made sure to keep to yourself, was living on the Sphere. By no means did you ever want to come across like life was so much worse up there. Finally seeing first hand all the hardships on the ground, you knew you had it better. On the ground there was constant danger, from trash beasts, the landscape, the falling debris, even the air itself was poisonous.

On the Sphere, you never went hungry or thirsty. You always had the medicine you needed if you got sick, a roof over your head. But the Sphere…

People hated the Sphere for the way it treated everyone beneath it. How it tossed aside everything in excess, anything deemed unworthy. How a single tarnishment or undesirable quality was grounds to be culled and discarded. That philosophy didn’t stop with just things.

Perfection was mandatory. Perfection was survival. Everything was a competition. Every little thing you said, did, wore, ate, etc. was measured for weakness. The Sphere was like a pit of vipers. Constantly looking for a flaw to exploit, a misstep to crucify you with. Everyday was constant vigilance, a game of wits, a social gauntlet.

To be a social pariah for any reason on the Sphere was death or ruin. Even then, you could do everything correctly and still lose if you weren’t sharp enough.

You were a scholar, a life long academic with your sights set on bureaucracy. A list of initiatives and causes a mile long but none of them truly mattered at the end of the day. An ambitious fire tempered by the shallowness of the world around, while you had dreams most of them would leave you an outcast. Everything bored you about the Sphere. You were a driven soul stir crazy for purpose. 

Poised and perfect, head of your class, leader of your organizations and committees. In layman’s terms, an overachiever. With a hungry mind and restless heart you wanted to do something worthwhile. All the paths laid for you left you unsatisfied, you set your eyes on lofty goals. What if we could salvage the world? Instead of this comfortable stagnation that you proposed would be unsustainable. 

Everything on the Sphere was dull. Dating on the Sphere was a bore. You’d had your fair share of boyfriends. Eventually you met what your parents selected for you as the one.

An arrangement between your families, decided and planned on both your behalfs. He was actually kind of good looking, you attended school together, met again through work and had hit it off. Your parents decided during the first week you two would marry after the proper courting ritual.

You remembered being thrilled. You had gotten along well, great even. The best boyfriend you had ever had. So you two continued on behind closed doors. All the proper and appropriate courting in public but you were together in private. He said he liked your boldness. He liked your brilliance and working together with you. You partnered together on every campaign, project, initiative, movement, research study, so on and so forth.

You thought everything was going to go well. Until you made the mistake of forgetting where you were. 

The night you confided in him about deciding to pivot your goals in your career and pursue change was the night you saw you were also just an accessory. Your boldness was palatable as long as it suited his palate. 

He revealed the expectation that you were to retire after marriage. Everything on the Sphere was picture perfect. A wife and children were perfect additions to one’s image in society. Assets to bolster his candidacy for his pursuits. People liked propriety, constancy, and safety. You were a lifelong social climbing tactic of promising security, certitude, and above all, the status quo.

“This talk of the finiteness of our peace will scare people. Disrupt orderliness, incite terror.”

We should be afraid.

“But I am not archaic. I would not deny us both your brilliance. You are more than welcome to continue providing your facilitations and counsel to our pursuits in private. To refrain from utilizing your adroit efficacy would be foolish. Though you, of course, would need to cease your penchant for your… midnight proclivities.”

He spoke like he was negotiating a contract and not the rest of your life. You forgot, people were merely business partners, investments, competition. Silly you.

The cards were dealt and this was the role you were to conform to. Give up your convictions and spend the rest of your life working towards the antithesis of your beliefs while he reaped all the rewards and renown. Was he still talking?

“No.”

“... then, of course, I would presen–excuse you?”

It all quickly fell apart from there after. It was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Don’t make him look bad by stirring the pot. The engagement couldn’t be ended, you were already public. Breaking it would cause a stain to his reputation.

You didn’t comply. You wouldn’t be his accessory and you could not keep quiet so you couldn’t be his wife anymore. But he couldn't dissolve your betrothal without tarnishment which led to the only acceptable manner to disburden himself of you. 

No one could fault a widower. Would he even technically be a widower if you hadn’t married yet? It didn't matter. It was how you ended up here. Corvus accepted your offer to sign up on the spot. 

If you had told Enjin that a cute little thing like you ended up here because of having a hit out on you, Enjin would've believed it. However, he thought at the very least you would have been framed for something like Rudo. But your Fiancee just straight up tried to ice you in the dead of night. The Sphere just sounded worse and worse the more he learned about it. 

Enjin honestly expected you to struggle. To have squeaked and squawked at everything that displeased you. To throw yourself into despair at the first sign of trouble but you weirdly enough, acclimated. Dare he say, thrived?

Your pack was probably alphabetized. Whenever he needed to stop in or pass by your room in HQ, everything was orderly, neat and color coded. Despite your complaining you requested to attend every job you could. You asked countless questions and asked everyone to show you how to do things yourself. Honestly you were much better suited for office work with the bigwigs but you wanted to be on the field. 

With your social skills, brains, quick wit and sharp tongue you quickly became the go-to for recon, spy and intel assignments. But since you also signed up for every assignment under the sun that meant you and Enjin spent copious amounts of time together. 

An undeniable born and bred Sphereite but unlike Rudo, from high society.

The truest blue blood he’d ever seen. You were a classy lady and a total smokeshow. How you managed to look elegant in the same uniforms and materials as all the rest of them, Enjin had no idea. You possessed an ample figure and perfect posture, courtesy of your ritzy Sphererite upbringing, highlighted by your uniform. Seriously, how did you do that?

There was never a moment you didn’t look like royalty. Your uniform was somehow always void of stains or any kind of wrinkles. Your casual wear on off days was put together and classy. While you moaned daily about the loss of your boudoir you took meticulous care with what you had.

Always done up like a fancy woman. Pretty lipstick fixed into a permanent disapproving pout whenever Enjin was around. Perfectly manicured and painted nails that never chipped that, at least once a day, pointed directly between his eyes during a lecture. Your pair of dangly earrings you refused to part with, bobbed delicately when you spoke. It became a habit whenever he was tuning you out to catch himself looking at them instead. They naturally drew the eye down to the column of your neck.

A delicate smile usually hidden behind your pretty painted nails. Elegant features highlighted by your stern expressions that made you downright unapproachable.

He caught between blinks, quiet moments, and imperceptible sighs, the interest to connect and make friends but were not sure how to. Maybe scared people didn’t like you. Or that they assumed you wouldn’t like them.

He began instigating just to get a reaction out of you. You always rose to the occasion. It just so happened to help people see that you were human too. And besides, he found bothering you was fun.

When he flicked your earrings, you swatted away his hand. Whenever you bent over and he got to check out the high slit in your skirt or a peek of your thigh high boots he whistled. To which you promptly told him to go to hell.

“Hold up, hold everything,” Enjin teased you whenever you touched up your makeup on the field. “Better now, milady?”

Using whatever reflective surface that was handy you checked for any smudges, or repositioned the clasp of your necklace to the back of your neck. One time you used the metal blades on Umbreaker as a mirror.

“Yes, actually. Proceed.” You smacked and popped your lips at yourself. You looked over the blades to the wielder, unamused at his sarcasm.

Enjin almost never referred to you with your actual name. Evidently, he much preferred an endless stream of mocking titles and superlatives. Kindled further when you always retorted with snobby, smarty pants comebacks as he liked to put it.

“Snob.”

“Lowbrow.”

“Bookworm.” 

“Franion.”

“Prude.”

“Reprobate.”

“Blue blood.”

“Recidivist.”

“Now you’re just making up words!”

“I’m really not, that’s the sad part.”

“Your Highness,” Enjin grinned in anticipation, dimples flashing. Your Highness was his particular favorite on the roster. Entirely because you always lanced back with his favorite response.

“Scoundrel,” You sneered. There it was. That no nonsense bite in your voice came smoothly out, that barked haughty orders, instructions, decrees. The way you managed to look down your nose at a grown man taller than you. Pretty eyes that glared daggers at him whenever he provoked you.

Enjin’s traitorous ass kids all took a liking to you. For all your intimidating, high class demeanor, you were great with kids and teens. Being a professor refined your skills on bonding with the young. “Children teach you just as much as you teach them.”

First was, inevitably, Rudo. Enjin had to pretend to not be hurt by that. It's always the youngest ones that break your heart. Rudo followed you around like a duckling.

You were kind and worse still, inquisitive. Practically designed for Rudo to get attached. You asked him about all his projects with such nerdy, sincere interest and worst of all, the killer finishing move, you had follow up questions. OH FUCK OFF!

Two peas in a pod, two trueblooded What If-ers, your eyes lit up with curiosity the same way too. You went to Rudo to teach you all about Vital Instruments and how anima worked. Rudo made it his personal mission to help you find yours.

Riyo and Zanka, while not as completely fervent as Rudo, also grew some fondness for you.

You asked Riyo about cultural ground life questions the most. She helped you acclimate to how all the little daily things worked in this new life. But what really got the ball rolling between you was style. You talked about hair and clothes. It was so much more expressive down here. On the Sphere, while lovely, all the clothing and haircuts were uniform-like. A world surrounded by fuck ass bobs tugged at Riyo’s heart strings like you were the truest sufferer. 

Zanka was the most unexpected conundrum. While most alike in demeanor, you could barely understand him at first. It was very clear slang was not much of a thing for you but you could figure most of it out with body language and context clues. Zanka’s incredibly informal manner of speaking and rhythm sounded like another language.

You were glued to him, determined to learn. Once you had gotten adjusted to his accent you asked Zanka what any slang you didn’t understand meant. Zanka, charmed and flattered, that someone so bright needed tutelage and went to him instantly caused him to warm up. 

“‘Murc’ means kill as in to-kill or get-killed, but ‘Slay’ is a compliment of something you are doing well?”

“Yes!”

“Calling someone ‘Unc’ and saying ‘Grown Man By The Way’ are both slight jabs at someone’s age but ‘Old Lady’ can be affectionate? It sounds mean.”

“Correct! ‘Old Lady’ can be mean if you’re just calling her that but if you’re calling her someone’s old lady, then that’s affectionate. Cause you're not really talkin’ about her age.”

“Hold on, let me write this down.”

Pfft, nerd. For all his jabs at you being pretentious just when Enjin thought he understood you another contradiction revealed itself. 

You had a hidden curious and adventurous streak. Competitive and driven, you wanted to learn how to do things yourself. You would squeak, sometimes even wave your hands in fear, or shudder in disgust. However it was only ever a moment. Without fail, after a second of collecting yourself, you followed through. It was as if you were… eager to get your hands dirty.

Maybe overwhelmed initially, when faced with the reality before you, but then you committed. There was that same spark of determination that drove you through academia. While so many things made you gasp, so many other things excited you.

“Show me how to drive,” 

You had asked Gris to teach you after the first time you rode in a motor vehicle. This is where Enjin saw first hand being a life long academic demonstrating itself. You quietly observed and then replicated. You analyzed and logged with meticulous study. You repeated everything until you were satisfied with your own results. Gris gave you his blessing and the clearance to drive on missions shortly after.

On your very next outing without Gris, you turned to Enjin. “Now show me how to drive like you.”

He quirked a brow, stupid smirk on his face. “Word?”

You simply nodded. A hint of mischief hidden behind stern eyes.

“Bet.”

You learned how to do things properly, you completed tasks properly. But once everything was accounted for and secured, once all the twenty steps on your imaginary clipboard were followed and you spotted an opening, you acted out.

Now on the ground you could explore. You experimented every impulsive thought you buried deep down on the Sphere. When you first heard grounder music, it intrigued you. Enjin expected you to turn your nose but you stared in–was that fascination? Excitement? You gawked at the clothes people wore to go out, he expected you to blush and turn a prude eye. But you watched and admired all the colors women wore.

You had asked Semiu to show you grounder nightlife except only that wasn’t what you called it at first. “Can you take me to a grounder cotillion?”

“Co-what now? 

“Um, a gathering to listen to music and dance?”

“You want to go dancing? I mean, sure, but it's not going to be like any of those fancy galas you know.”

“Do you promise?”

The next time Semiu and Tomme had a night on the town you joined. What you saw titillated you. Pounding music that made your heart race. Informality abound that was raw and wild. Even though the place was dirty and dingy, everything was so much more vibrant. Electric. Alive.

Flashing lights, scantily clad grinding bodies and crackling speakers blaring heavy bass that resonated in your bones. This was everything you wished the after festivities behind closed doors back home were. Above all what ensnared you most was how animalistic the dancing was.

Promiscuity hung thick in the air, amplified by an endless variety of alcohol. So much stronger than the wines you had on the Sphere. It burned the back of your throat and caused you to cough the first time around. Semiu and Tomme encouraged and helped pace you. You knew well how to take a shot but the liquor, if you could even consider it that now, on the Sphere was water compared to this. Your nerves tingled, you giggled and hiccuped, it was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. 

The truth was you were pristine with a sterling reputation, at least, in public. You mastered concealing what you got up to behind closed doors and the cover of midnight. All because you wanted everything.

Organized and thorough even down to your rebelling. You took pride in your work, passions as well as impulsive desires and dedicated as much precision to them. You attended all the hidden socials, drank contraband spirits, read sultry novels and fornicated.

It was maddening how stale everything was. How shameful it was to want to feel excitement. So you didn’t let them stop you. You searched for it every night off you could. Otherwise be driven to cabin fever by the doldrums and ennui of societal life. Except the cabin was a floating rock for which there was no escape save death.

You slept with men and were disappointed. Eager to learn and experience everything you read about and kept hidden in your thoughts. In your younger years, you believed yourself the issue. As the years passed and you got older, you saw that you could enjoy your raunchy novels fine and had made yourself orgasm plenty of times. Inevitably you shedded that view. Unsatisfied, you kept having boyfriends and sex. You kept searching.

You searched for pleasure. You searched for thrills. You searched for purpose. You searched for more fulfilling goals. You searched for substance. You searched for life. Any sign of it. And now you danced. You danced and danced and danced for hours.

Imagine Enjin’s surprise when he saw you out that night. He did not approach at first and watched from a distance.

Elegant going out attire that was no doubt your definition of scandalous. A low neckline and the most leg you’d ever been permitted to show in your entire life. Your clothes hugged your figure and revealed your curves. Your midriff was exposed, soft belly pouch and love handles spilling through the opening between your cropped top and skirt. And those sexy ass earrings that drew his eyes downward now to find generous cleavage.

Well I’ll be damned.

You were shy at the start of the evening but then quickly took part. You drank and turned down men left and right like you were that girl. Which you kind of were tonight. You laughed and danced. He wondered if this must be what watching a flower bloom might feel like.

You crossed paths with others from HQ but he let you be for the most part. Only stepping in when some guys couldn’t take a hint. Hours passed before inevitably the crowd spilled into the street and began splitting up. 

Some chose to head home and others chose to go bar hopping. It was clear you were done, Semiu and Tomme telling you to take it easy for your first night out. Clearly they wanted to keep going but were being good friends. Enjin offered to take you back. He was done for the night himself.

“You sure, man?”

“Yeah, I was going to head back anyway. I’ll make sure she gets back to HQ in one piece.”

You thanked them for letting you join them tonight and parted ways. You clung to Enjin’s arm to avoid stumbling in the street.

You walked in relative silence but it was amusing being your designated walker. You were weirdly responsible, even whilst inebriated. Having reached flat out drunk earlier in the evening, you made sure to drink water and eat. Ever mindful, you had nursed yourself back to tipsy. Tipsy, for you, meant a giggly, smiling, pretty little thing that couldn’t walk in a straight line if your life depended on it. 

A quick rain burst sent you squealing underneath an awning even though Enjin clearly had Umbreaker in his hand. He followed, it looked like you needed a minute to sit anyway. He crouched down beside you on the stoop and lit a cigarette.

“Didn’t peg you for the club type, Your Highness.”

“I di-d,” You hiccuped.

“I thought you’d miss your fancy soirees or whatever the fuck you guys got going on up there? Not exactly diamond hors d'oeuvres and harps.”

“Hm, I know,” You cheesed.

“So what gives? Why did you hound Semiu about this all week?”

You hummed, pleasantly buzzed and bit your glossed lip. “... We didn’t have this on the Sphere.”

“What, clubs? Like you guys don't got music, booze or dancing up there? Probably a thousand times better than us groundfolk. No need to act like you don’t miss it I’m sure.”

You shook your head at him, sending your earrings flying. He cocked an eyebrow curiously, watched how they smacked your cheeks. “I miss a lot of things,”

“But somehow you don’t want to go back?”

“No, I don’t.” Your head swayed. “But I miss the things I had. I miss the food, and the clean water, and the buildings with no leaks. I miss my bed and I miss my perfumes and oils…”

“But?”

“But not this… not music. There’s nothing to miss. Tonight was the best music I’ve ever heard. You, here on the ground, have real music.”

Enjin smiled, scratched the corner of his smirk with his thumb and decided to correct your grammar. “We.”

You smiled. “We, here on the ground, have real music.”

You never gave details about the Sphere or why you didn’t want to go back so he never pried. None of them at HQ did. This was the first peek you gave.

“Music on the Sphere is so sterile. I’ve never heard anything like this. I didn’t know music can make you feel… so alive.”

“Well, glad to have your approval, milady.” He paused and considered. “You know, there’s a music festival coming up that might be right up your alley.”

“Is it like the music from tonight?”

“Nah, tonight was all club beats. This is more grounder rock.”

“Like the stuff Riyo listens to?” You chirped excitedly.

Damn it, you were actually pretty fucking cute. Tipsy or sober, your eyes practically glittered with giddiness when something interested you. He had to admit as far as initial impressions went, he had you all wrong.

“Yeah, it's a bunch of different bands and acts that all group up and have concerts all in the same place. It's called the Trash Talk Tour,” Enjin reached into his pocket and pulled out a creased, old flyer he had pulled off a board the other day and handed it to you. “People get dressed up in costumes and there’s usually a fireworks show too.”

You took it gleefully and struggled to read it over. You opted instead for merely admiring the picture and the long list of performers. You turned back and had your lip caught between your teeth, like a little kid debating whether or not to tell a secret.

“You know I told myself I’d never tell you this cause I’m sure you’d never let me live it down,” You giggled and then hiccuped.

A brow rose, intrigued. He watched your head sway and your earrings followed.

“But on the Sphere… I was the bad girl.”

Enjin grinned like the cat that caught the canary. Shut. Up.

He leaned in slyly. “Go on.”

And you did. You went on at length of your clandestine search for vices. Partying behind closed doors and obscured beneath responsibly completed daily schedules. Oh you were completely right.

He absolutely, positively was never going to let you live this down. He would be insufferable. Never about any of your cravings or lust for life though. This was the most human you had ever felt. But he’d bet his last smoke, if you remembered this conversation in the morning, that you’d hate that you opened up to Enjin about it. When you finished he put out his cigarette.

“C’mon… rain stopped.”

You immediately started whining. “Hmmm, I caaan’t! I can’t take another step. My feet are killing me! And I can’t walk barefoot in the street like a ruffian.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen when you dance wearing shoes like that for hours.” He tried not to roll his eyes. Ruffian? At this rate you two would never get back to HQ. “Come here.”

“Wha–ah!” You let out a small shriek of panic as gravity abruptly shifted beneath you. Enjin draped your arms around his shoulders and piggy backed you up off the ground. “You don’t ha–”

“It's fine. Let’s go, already! Your noble steed would like to go to fucking bed some time tonight.”

You didn’t protest anymore. Tightening your arms around his shoulders, you buried your face into his shirt, chasing that lingering cologne. Softly, you mumbled. “Thank you, Enjin.”

That was the first time you thanked him for anything. It was strange, after that night you still went at it like cats and dogs. He still may or may not have enjoyed ruffling your feathers and pulling on your proverbial pigtails. But he started paying attention to that bold side a little more.

You groaned the next morning. Not from any hangover, honestly that might have been preferable, but from Enjin’s incessant jabbering about your vulnerability the night before. Worst of all you hated how you caught yourself with flushed cheeks remembering last night.

How he walked you back home, which was sort of gentlemanly you supposed. Okay, maybe not gentlemanly but at the very least a decent man. Surprised to discover how solid his arm was underneath those long sleeves. How your heart raced when he bundled you up effortlessly and carried you home. While he complained about it, he went out of his way so you didn’t take another step on aching feet. His scent of tobacco and fading spiced cologne lingered still. 

He noticed when you were having trouble trying to talk and get to know people. Despite never saying anything, despite being trained to hide behind a stoneface your whole life, Enjin noticed. You knew what he was doing, getting under your skin all day, and appreciated it. You gave credit where it was due, he was a good team leader.

Loathed to admit it, feelings had begun to sow in you. You lashed out twice as much now in hope Enjin would not notice. But Enjin did catch it, long before you did. He never brought it up. He might be a prick but he tried not to be an asshole as much as he could help it. He thought it cute, though predictable. Waved it off as nothing serious.

Just an uptown girl face to face with something new and exciting. Something he would normally entertain. However you were a fish out of water down here, fresh from a tragic engagement and way in over your head. Once the novelty wore off, you’d move on. And he wasn’t going to capitalize on your ignorance or romanticizations. 

So he played with you. He fought with you. Once in a blue moon he sprinkled in an insinuating comeback just to watch you get flustered. You’d tell him to go to hell.

It wouldn’t last forever. Eventually you would get your bearings. You would acclimate and see the reality of your new world. When you did, a knockout like you, could have anyone of your choosing down here. An ambitious, sophisticated lady probably knew exactly what she would be into and what she was looking for. And it wouldn’t be Enjin. 

Stubborn beyond belief. It was like pulling teeth to offer any help. It was clear whatever your life was back on the Sphere, it drilled this insatiable need to be perfect. A complete teacher’s pet that studied and wrote notes about everything. Enjin would be lying if he claimed he didn’t find you impressive though.

You always had a back up plan for the back up plans, just in case. There was no T left uncrossed and no I left undotted on your watch. Methodical, militant, all your P’s and Q’s were minded.

Little Miss Perfect through and through. Of course his first natural assumption was you to have been a goody two shoes that never misbehaved a day in your life. The kind that would have sooner broken a bone before breaking a rule. Until your drunken confession showed him otherwise.

It was fun getting under your skin and watching Your High-And-Mightiness reveal your manicured claws. It didn’t matter what smart ass comment Enjin made, your parry was always at the ready. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it sexy as hell. You could take just as well as you could dish.

“See, what I tell ya?”

An almost cinematic explosion of hunting hound-like trash beasts erupted from the carcass of a giant slayed trash beast. Poured out of cracks, the open jaws and weak points in the structure, the swarm flooded the roads. Once regrouped, what looked like a leader spotted you both. The leader wrenched back its head and let out a haunting howl. In the distance you could hear the faint reply of distant swarms answering the call.

“Ahaha…”

You, somehow, glared daggers at him through your full face. Well, at least your arms were akimbo instead of crossed. So there was that.

“Oh look, the bridge you said we’d cross! Now that we got here, oh fearless leader, by all means enlighten me?”

“You know girl, your negativity is a real character flaw of yours.”

“Heeeeey, gorgeous!” Enjin sweet-talked you over the communications collars constantly. Always initiated by purposely lowering his voice to whisper in your ear.

“... No.”

“Damn, I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You didn’t have to.”

“What do you mean it's gone?”

You were glaring at him but this time it was the serious-issue he definitely did fuck up this time type of glare. He patted down his pockets, his coat, his hidden compartments within. This delivery mission’s doohicky was nowhere on him.

“Well you see–”

“When was the last time you had it?”

He rested his chin in his hand and tried to retrace his steps. The last time he felt its weight against his hand, buried in his coat was… Shit. He opened his eyes and your arms were crossed, foot tapping expectantly.

“Well?”

“Aha, that would be when I tried to shoot my shot with those bar ladies…”

“Unbelieva–”

“Hey, hey, hey ya know, I’m sure if we retraced our steps the fucking whatchamacallit–”

“Do you not even know what it's called?”

“Of course!” He brought a dramatic hand to his chest and feigned being appalled.

“What’s it called?”

“I am wounded! It's called… the… the… Woof, Zanka help me out here?” Unable to keep up the bit Enjin lowered his voice to a clearly still audible stage whisper and turned to Zanka.

“Tra–”

“Zanka, don’t help him!”

“Damn, your majesty, fine! It's called the trans… amabob-inator?”

You began spluttering. Why did you have to get paired with the most asinine ignoramus? What did you do in a past life to deserve this?

“You–y–you,” Your hands were hooked into claws, clearly trying not to throttle him.

“Me, me, me, me.”

“Don’t! You–you you l-l-l,” 

Enjin didn’t have anything smart to say because he was the one holding onto the thingamajig. The fact that he couldn’t even remember the macguffin’s name might have been the straw that caused you to short circuit. Normally so quick-witted with a smart girl clapback, here you were struggling not to kill him.

Oh damn, he really was in trouble if you were so angry you couldn’t even get the words out. 

“Lllllll-oser? No, that’s not it? Lazy! No? L-ost? L-ow iron?” Enjin tried to help you sound out whatever you were trying to call him but couldn’t think of many mean things to say that started with L. You started pounding on his chest, trying your best not to smile, even more frustrated with his assistance in your roasting of his character. “L-eft handed? It better not be lanky?”

“Uggggh!”

Already offended, he grabbed you by the wrists, restricted your swats and began arguing back about the hypothetical jab at his physique. He was grinning while he bickered, seeing you clearly trying not to laugh. The sheer ridiculousness of the moment finally broke you from your spell.

“Yooooou le-l-l… you lecherous mooncalf!” You shouted in the middle of the street. People were already stopping to stare but now it was amusing.

“Huuuuuh? What did you just call me?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Yeah, actually ya did!”

“Good! Then that means you heard me twice!”

“All in a day’s work. I made that ambush my bitch, right milady?" Enjin grinned, winking at you. He held up Umbreaker and what looked like a muffler that was also wielded in the vanquishing of foes. Grinning at you through the side of his face, Umbreaker and the Counter-Ambush-Muffler rested against his shoulders.

“I’m not going to call you a good boy, Enjin. You almost let Rudo get snatched by organ movers.”

“You’re so mean, doll!”

“Diva.”

“Louse.”

“Crybaby.”

“Vulgarian.”

“Actually, I’m a leo.” He winked. You must have lost your mind because you let out a faint snort. “Did you just laugh?”

“No!”

“You did!”

“As if! 

“I should call the boss!” He mimed activating his collar while you snipped at him. Now when you jabbed at each other there was a tinge of, dare Enjin say it, friendliness. Two people that got along because they were both assholes.

He did not fail to notice the tinge of a blush on your cheeks when you bickered or when he stood too close. Damn, he must be funny if someone smart like you had a crush on him.

Secret daredevil and moonlight wildchild you may have been, you were still a high class Sphereite. A detail that anyone could, and everyone did, clock a mile away. You were constantly getting threatened.

Attempted kidnappers and human traffickers that wanted to sell you for parts. Bandits and scavengers that wanted to rob you blind. Rudo attached to your hip any time you were on a mission together made it practically two for the price of one!

While beyond clueless about ground living or customs, which got yourself into trouble countless times, you seemed to have a knack for getting out of it too. You could bluff like a fucking champ. Spouting ancient nerdy knowledge that normally Enjin would tune out if anybody else recited to him. 

Once in the car, all possible routes blocked and the crew on their last fumes, you told everyone to look bored. Turning up the radio to full volume, you scrambled onto the roof of the car.

“What the shit is that gonna do, girl?”

“I wasn’t fucking asking. I am telling you! Look bored, you squawking buzzard!”

“Noooo, mom and dad are fighting. Please not in front of the kids.” Riyo deadpanned from the backseat. Enjin whirled on her, spluttering, while you laughed already climbing out your window.

“Excuse you?”

“Just listen to her, we’re going to die anyway, so might as well.”

When the enemies had reached you, they found a parked car playing music. Sphereite woman perched prettily out in the open, filing her nails, unbothered. You looked up at the opposing force and waved. The real kicker was when you pretended to check the time.

“Boss… that’s a fucking trap.”

“Now that I think about it, don’t cleaners usually have whole teams? I'm only seeing a guy, the Sphereite bitch and a bunch of kids.”

You huffed impatiently, making a show of looking like you were ready to wrap this up. You started lazily counting men with your nail file and kicking your little feet that dangled over the side.

Enjin could not believe it. You were not pulling a life or death bluff, were you? He was so angry. He was so proud. He was so going to teach you how to play poker if they managed to make it back to HQ alive. If he called dibs on you as a partner now–

“Yeah, let’s regroup with the rest before heading in. Would’ve worked too if that lady wasn’t such a bad liar.”

Holy fuck. In a few minutes the roads were cleared and Enjin had them shrinking in the rearview. The kids clapped on you from the backseat. When Enjin asked what the fuck that was you cited some smart girl bullshit about classic literature from the ancient world.

In the novel, a general had blundered and had his soldiers sent away somewhere else. The city was left completely defenseless. While the soldiers were all gone, the opposing army started marching in on them. The general had opened the gates wide, sat atop his open walls and started playing music. The opposing army bought his gammon of making the attack on the city look too easy. Believing it was a trap they retreated.

“Like Riyo said, we didn’t stand a chance of winning so I thought, might as well.”

“You know what, Miss Thing, hell yeah! Classic literature slaps!”

You used long words that sounded like poetry coming out your mouth. You read thick books that looked sexy in your hands. You analyzed maps and consulted strategies. You played chess and shit. You were killer at poker. Years of etiquette training, honing your prudence and decorum made you a natural.

Introducing you to Alice had made Enjin’s entire day. He worshipped the woman himself and knew you would too. Alice instantaneously became your new favorite person and you had practically inhaled her research. You were the newest member to the Alice fan club and vice president now. Bowing only to Enjin’s seniority in the position.

“You’re new to this, I’m true to this life.” As he had put it. You laughed.

As a professional Miss Busybody, there was never not a project going on. Either always in the middle of learning a new skill or heralding a new theory. Somewhere along the way you had volunteered to the big man about accumulating all the discoveries from the field and conducting research towards the cause. Even talked the brass into letting you man the new initiative of setting up and running a library at HQ.

You and Tomme had hit it off with flying colors. As the other resident nerd that recorded everything she practically lit up like a firework when you pitched to her the project. Thick as thieves from that point onward. 

Sometimes Enjin would walk by or stop in to check on your progress with the passion project. You looked so in place. Like this was your natural habitat. Smooth hands dotted with callous, the permanent writer’s bump on some fingers. Evidence of years in libraries and lecture halls. 

There was quite a bit of formal training and study that involved joining the Cleaners organization. The physiology of trash beasts, the study of anima, actual physics to better master their techniques, so on and so forth. Not to mention plenty of members that were children still in need of the basic courses. 

Naturally, Miss Thing, you finished in record timing. Though you tried your best to shade and hide your excitement. Enjin may or may not have been the only one to catch how your eyes glimmered if anyone asked for help on an assignment or question.

Enjin may or may not have mentioned your having been a professor or some kind of fancy teacher whatever-the-fuck back on the Sphere around the boss. How you connected with the youth on his team so naturally. He made damn sure to wander into the library when Corvus approached with his offer.

It was adorable the way you lit up, tried so hard not to tear up, when asked to be a teacher again for the Cleaners. How you tried not to jump at accepting and play it cool. When Corvus left it was just you and Enjin in the room.

“Thank you.” Your voice was thick and didn’t trust yourself to say much else.

“Who, me? What makes you think I had anything to do with this? Besides, it only makes sense to set you up with that gig.”

“Hm, of course you’re right. Apologies for my accusations.” You smiled, possibly the softest he’s ever seen you smile too.

“Have fun though, Teach.”

They lined the wall behind your desk with a salvaged chalkboard. You plotted out a course plan within a week. Between assignments you taught classes in your library several times a week. You taught everything; reading, science, mathematics and history. The classes were small and very hands-on.

Enjin watched you teach a few times. He saw firsthand how animated you were standing at your blackboard, an open book in one hand and chalk in the other. How you made sure everyone felt comfortable enough to ask for help and raise their hand when they needed it.

The lessons were pretty open and flexible, considering your classes consisted of a wide range of different ages, levels and needs. A few of the adults sat in during subjects they might have missed out on growing up once in a while. You made sure to make them feel welcome.

There were a few evenings when your girls nights were hosted in your library. It wasn’t often but it was hard to miss. It was actually kind of funny how you and your friends struggled to keep your voices down. You made sure it was always late into the evening and you called the shots in the library anyway.

This corner of the base began to feel like your domain. The same way the front desk belonged to Semiu. There were times Enjin would find his feet taking him there on autopilot before he realized what he was doing. You could be found hard at work researching well into the late hours of the evening.

He had discovered you asleep at your desk a few times. You’d wake up the morning after with his coat around your shoulders. He never moved you or woke you up. You looked happy. Regaining such a familiar part of your life that you clearly had missed more than you let on.

Falling asleep doing research was part of your fun, a mark of your craft. In a similar vein to athletes when drenched in sweat. Or artists covered in paint. For you, sleep lines on your cheek in the shapes of books and hands covered in chalk or ink. Dork.

Whenever he did stop in, you would tell him to be useful. Enjin was often ordered to either lift something heavy or handle high shelves for you. He pretended to avoid you like the plague, playing up the act of dodging work but he always managed to check in regularly. He always managed to let himself be caught by you. He listened when you bossed him around and had to hide how much he enjoyed watching you in your element.

More than once when Enjin relieved himself at night, images of dangly earrings accentuating a kissbitten neck, craned over some records flashed through his head. Snippets of you critiquing him played back in the dark. Clips of soft hands scribbling away at chalkboards became some of his favorite reruns past midnight.

He started more often leaning toward nerdy fantasies. Involving nerdy librarians, scholarly professors or desk papers swept off the surface in a frenzy. He waved it off as it was only natural. He was a healthy young guy and you were a stunner. There was nothing to feel weird about. It was nothing, he was certain.

You were smiling. Those small smiles people got when they were talking to someone they enjoyed talking to. You were nodding, lost in conversation, clearly agreeing with Corvus. Whatever it is you were talking about it seemed you two were eye to eye on the subject. 

Probably something sophisticated. Enjin’s jaw tightened. 

Enjin caught himself getting irritated when you spoke to Corvus about books. When he spotted you together walking down the halls, his chest got tight. He’d butt into those conversations when he could. Only then, most times, needing to mask how it peeved him that he couldn’t contribute or understand much of the conversation.

He picked up a perfectly good dictionary that was still in one piece the next time he went out. ‘It’s nothing.’ He insisted.

It fit perfectly in his pocket and it would help him keep up with your rapport. It would only become weird if he made it weird. Besides it would make for a good bit or a run on gag. He could whip it out the next time you said something professorly. It was just for a joke, just to make you laugh.

It had been some time now since meeting you. You had gotten your feet under you and you were pretty well settled into this new life in this new world. Nowhere near as impressionable as when you first started. You still found him funny and he liked to make you laugh.

At some point the bickering felt more like bantering. At some point the arguing became competitive. The constant back and forth, sometimes teasing and other times genuine, felt like a daily game of poker he got to enjoy. Eventually it reached the point where you two started tagteaming people you didn’t like together. 

It was obvious to others. That his smirks and wisecracks were not just playful. Were not just for fun alone or entirely meaningless. Others saw the smirks and teasing, yes, but they also saw everything unbeknownst to either one of you.

Semiu watched you two argue down the street. Bro caught the rain that slowly began to dot the pavement, announcing itself before openly pouring. Gris spied how mid-rebuttal, without stopping to pause his argument, Enjin held his hand up at the first drop of rain and opened Umbreaker. They noticed how he leaned Umbreaker closer to your side. How he shielded you more than himself.

Look, man. Don’t even get him started. Enjin tried so hard, and failed, to be respectful. He really, only sort of kind of, did.

Full hips and a plump ass that filled out your nerdy skirts. Kneadable plush spilling from underneath your going-out tops. A lifelong fan of rounder and curvier ladies, he thanked the powers that be for his giant oven mitts so that he could, in fact, handle all that.  Not that he was going to or anything.

Weeks rolled by and what started as occasionally cameoing in his late night fantasies evolved to star of the show every time. Humble beginnings as a guest star in his shower thoughts, now you were the leading lady. Enjin knew he was down pretty bad when he started losing interest in attention or propositions from anybody else. He had to come clean, at least to himself, that he took a liking to you. You were pretty as fuck, smarter than him and he was a weak man.

You might be covered up a lot of the time, but he could still enjoy and see everything without seeing anything. Silhouettes, imprints and ghosts of your shape pressed into your clothes. The impression of your belly button when you wore those slip skirts. The ravine that straps created on your shoulders.

Soft, heaving tits that rose and fell when you got worked up. He shamelessly enjoyed watching your chubby thighs expand when you sat down.

He managed to always find a way every assignment together to snake an arm around your waist and fly you out of harm’s way on Umbreaker. Or whenever you found yourselves in tight spaces, Enjin always passed behind you with a hand on your waist to guide your body when he needed to scooch by.

Pliant, doughy love handles rested underneath his palm. More than once Enjin had to practise self restraint to keep himself from squeezing. Practically rolled his eyes to the back of his head and groaned at himself for how fucking pathetic he was when you sat side by side and he could feel your body heat radiating onto his side.

He imagined warming his hands on you. Your thighs keeping his ears from getting cold. His hands gripping your hips from behind while his thumbs gave you your own matching pair of dimples on the curve of your ass.

He kept his little infatuation to himself, insisting that’s all it was. The last thing you needed was another hound-dog barking up your tree. Besides, a classy lady like you, wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Nevermind anymore that you were once Sphereite elite. If he was being honest with himself it really had nothing to do with that. It was more a self inflicted curse really. That’s the problem with his type, you were always too good for him. You always deserved better and you always knew it too. If you didn’t, well, you were smart so you’d always figure it out eventually.

He could be a passing fancy. A dashing, dimpled dalliance. A guilty pleasure and a curiosity. Happy to serve as a shot of excitement; to provide a taste for the rough and tumble and humble. A tall tattooed temptation but that was where the buck stopped.

He may not have been the most scholarly or cerebral of guys, but he was sharp enough to learn the hard way, as was how he learned everything. After some time around the block and his fair share of heart breaks he had to come to terms with the undeniable truth. He wasn’t his type’s cup of tea.

So he adapted. He learned to savor the chapter of teasing, flirting, and furtive glances. To bask in the moment of being the something-sweet you crave after well balanced meals. To sate himself with transient affection.

Cause that’s all it ever was. A chapter, but never the book. A moment, but never a life. A dessert, but you can’t live on sweets alone. Enjin was a fling, something casual, a sneaky link, no strings attached. He was the favorite eater on the roster. He was for rebounds. He was for making exes jealous. Enjin was for fun. He wasn’t anything serious.

He was a young man, and let’s call a spade a spade, a womanizer. His reputation was fairly earned. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy his role most of the time as an active participant in hook up culture.

However, truth be told, there were a few instances in his life when he didn’t. Only a small handful really. Particularly nowadays as he got older.

He usually minimized it to get through it. Told himself it was a bummer and kept it pushing cause, in the end, that’s all anyone really can do about it. He was not much for wallowing in sorrow or self pity. Not much for the woes-me routine either, himself. Enjin’s heartbreaks were reserved for closer friends or sharper eyes.

He’d have drinks with someone. Nothing sloppy or self destructive or loud. It was more quiet dive pubs and sitting in silence with a friend he didn’t need to say anything to because they already knew. He never denied or tried to bury it; he always let himself feel it. Enjin bled quietly.

So yeah… There were only a few, specifically with beautiful, smart, curvy women, that it really fucking sucked. But like with everything else on the ground, he made the most out of scraps.

Plump was a rarer, though not impossible, body type to find on the ground. It stood within reason that he constantly had to fight off creeps and losers. The worst part was how clueless you were to that kind of attention. For someone so fucking smart how could you be that oblivious. While you were by no means shy, it didn’t seem to compute when dudes tried flirting or shooting their shot with you.

He finally brought it up after one night at the club ended with Enjin in a pretty nasty fist fight. Sat beside him on the sidewalk, you nursed the shiner bubbling on his face with the ice from his drink.

The chill pressed against his face helped soothe the sting. The warmth pressed against his side however had the opposite of a cooling effect on him. Enjin’s entire body was alight and very aware of your side against him. The supple give of your form and how it yielded to the hard lines of his own. Where you were pressed against one another you molded to him. He was no better than a man… 

“How do you not notice the way dudes drool every time we party, dollface?”

“I guess I’m not used to that kind of attention so out in the open.” 

“Huuuh? Be so fucking for real.”

You explained that while you may have ran with all the cool kids (pfft, sure) and thrill seekers it ended within the confines of that circle. You had your fair share of secret boytoys for being one of the covert ‘fast’ girls that put out but that was about it. Empathy tugged at his heartstrings. You were a clandestine rollick under the shroud of night but in the light of day…

“On the Sphere, svelteness and being trim is desirable in women.” 

That might have set him off as much as the panting, pawing piece of shit he had to lay out flat earlier. What did you mean by the Sphere? Like the entire damn thing? Another cultural clash revealed itself.

Enjin really struggled to wrap his head around the concept of an entire population having a hivemind mentality on what’s pretty. That was such a personal, individual thing. The ground had no such discriminations for either side of the spectrum in a lady. They didn’t have a collective consensus of ‘requirements’ to begin with when it came to attraction. They all had actual problems to worry about down here. Why the fuck would they waste time inventing new, imaginary ones?

The grounder mentality was everybody was somebody’s cup of tea.

Down here people were starving, meanwhile up there people were purposefully driving young women to skimp meals. Maybe it was just the pangs of bad memories from his own upbringing, but the idea of little girls in houses full of food being scolded for looking at it made him fume.

You told him about all the other beauty requirements and he could feel his blood pressure rise. Hairlessness, no stretchmarks whatsoever, women should be shorter, which how the fuck do you control height? He couldn’t even understand what the fuck cellulite was no matter how many times you explained it.

“Full offense when I say this, but dudes on the Sphere sound like little bitches that wanna fuck plucked chickens.”

You snorted and echoed him, “Plucked chickens, I can’t!”

In your giggle fit you tried to list a few more but Enjin stopped you from sharing any other details with a raised hand. “Seriously, don’t piss me off.”

You collapsed onto his shoulder. Encouraged by making you double over, his sarcastic antics continued. You devolved into side splitting laughter. A laugh that sounded like crystals jingling, rare and earned. He smiled watching you.

Enjin knew you knew he knew. Having become thick as thieves after a while. Possibly going as far to start saying best friends at this point. You tried as hard as you could to hide those feelings but just like how he was the only one who noticed your want to get to know people, he caught this too.

He was a sweetheart about it and you appreciated how much grace he showed you. He was a decent guy–okay, a good guy. Who understood that all the more aggressive snipping in the beginning was out of fear.

You were a grown woman, with a fully developed frontal lobe and multiple degrees. So you understood that in high stress situations, after fight or flight, there were also the less spoken about reactions, freeze and fawn. Fawn was dangerous. 

Enjin became your leader when your whole life was turned inside out, not to mention he and his crew saved your life. Hardly the foundation for anything healthy. You were clear enough of mind to understand that you were at your most vulnerable and if the wrong person entered your life with ill intentions, they would be able to do some serious damage.

So you chose to fight to give yourself space and tried your hardest to grow past those feelings. Time went on and then with clarity and objectivity acquired you knew with concrete certainty. You did fall first but that you had been in no way the right place to do anything about it.

Over time you righted yourself up again. Sowed yourself into this new world and took root. Got to know others in the landscape. And yet... Over time, it didn’t go away, only strengthened. Over time you got to know him, you grew closer, you bonded, you trusted him. You learned and saw for yourself, Enjin was someone worth falling for.

Weeks had gone by and he let himself indulge. Slowly he let the bantering evolve by adding in some open teasing regularly now. Some platonic flirting wouldn’t hurt, right? 

Eventually the flirting became just as second place as the arguing. What began as abrasive, two forces at odds, settled into familiarity and playfulness. You drove each other insane regularly but somewhere along the way comfort took root. Two forces that found a sort of kinship in one another. Someone that did not balk away but embraced and delighted in the rapport and verbal sparring.

You could be bold with him. Then you saw you could be loud and mean and snarky. There were moments when you were scared that you had taken it too far. That was too snippy, too bitchy, too nasty. 

Your eyes went wide, apology at the ready, prepared to spiral for weeks and kick yourself for letting yourself slip like that.

Enjin would grin and exhale his cigarette smoke through his nose. An evil, playful glint in his golden eyes harbingered the promise of oncoming rascality. He looked entirely too much like a dragon tantalized by the morsel before him.

“Oh yeah, Your Highness?” He’d croon.

The lump in your throat went down. Nerves melted away only to ignite into electric charge. You were in danger, and you really, really liked it. More than once you caught yourself, eyes lingering, a pleasant feeling blossoming when he was near. Enjoyed in silence, enjoyed in loudness, it was nice to be known. No one knew you like he did. 

Call him crazy but he could catch the interest was still present. Although now it would be more along the lines of reciprocated chemistry. Half lidded, siren eyes that watched him move.

You stood together, deep in conversation, having drifted well within each other's personal space. Almost ritualistic nowadays, drawn in by the other’s gravitational pull without realizing until you had already been hovering in the other’s orbit.

You were smiling. Those small smiles people got when they’re talking to someone they enjoyed talking with.

Mid-conversation he pulled out a smoke and held it between his lips, speaking from the corner of his mouth. The tension of the act naturally hollowed out his dimples and brought them out in full view. His large hands dug into his pockets before patting down his person, hunting for his lighter. You hung on his every word, transfixed on his wandering hands that came up empty.

Enjin stopped talking when you pulled out the spare lighter you apparently started carrying around. You held it there lit between you.

He grinned. “Thanks, mama.”

He could have just plucked the cigarette from his mouth and held it to the flame but where would the fun in that be?

He slid his hand over yours so you both held the lighter together steady. His hand engulfed yours, cupping and shielding the flame from the breeze. Tilting his head down some, he brought your hand up to his mouth and lit his cigarette. Eyes on you, he winked. When smoke curled from his nose, he closed your hand and snapped your lighter shut.

Your throat bobbed. Cute.

He’d noticed for a minute now the way your eyes followed his hands when he smoked. He tried his best to smoke at least one cigarette around you now constantly. He’d noticed the way your breath hitched when he started sprinkling more intimate pet names. The kind that guys on the ground used with their significant others. They were now seamlessly added to his roster of superlatives for you. 

His smile was annoying. Smug and charming might just be the most insufferable combination in the world. He easily had the biggest hands you had ever seen, accentuated by tattooed rings and painted nails. His pierced ears, tattoos, undercut and, hell, even the buttons he decorated his coat with made him look rugged and wild. You may have been the bad girl back home, but standing next to Enjin revealed that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of punk or cool. But it was more than that, you liked how much pride he took in his appearance, how expressive it all was. The worst of his transgressions though were easily those damn dimples.

He listened intently when you spoke but when he caught you staring while he smoked, he’d smile wolfishly. His dimples, emerging between blinks, then dotted his face and caused you to stumble over your words more than once.

When he wasn’t talking, a rarity, you could nab a glimpse of them. They caught you off guard when you first noticed them. Little soft divots, served as punctuation marks, framing his smiles and expressions. They added a boyish charm back to him. 

On hot days or when he was working out, he began the habit of wiping sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. He leaned against doorframes when you two talked at HQ. When he stretched around you he’d let his shirt ride up so you could catch a glimpse of the waistband of his boxers or his happy trail.

Enjin was such… a man. Guys on the Sphere were never… like this. As a matter of fact, Enjin made all your Sphererite exes feel like boys. It was a daily occurrence to be captivated by his broad shoulders and dark tattoos, taunting you from underneath his clothes. When he caught you angling to see more of his ink, he began wearing shorter sleeves or rolled up his longer ones casually midconversation to tease you.

‘Is this what female birds feel like?’ You caught yourself thinking once.

It had slammed him like a truck when he saw it wasn’t just creeps and losers barking up your tree. A few of the friends you made signed up as volunteer assistants every once in a while to help with shelving and cataloging. They also loved their share of gossip.

It wiped the smirk off his face when your friends were not so subtly giggling, gossiping and eavesdropping about a scene in the stacks. He approached ready to make a lame joke about working hard or hardly working when they shushed him. Warned him not to disrupt or get them caught, completely oblivious that everyone could hear them. When he peeked around to see what they were on about, his stomach dropped.

Enjin saw pleasant, smiling, friendly conversation between yourself and Gris. You were talking through a gap in the shelf. Having moved some heavy books aside while shelving and there was Gris browsing on the other side. You had been chatting like that for twenty minutes according to your friends.

Gris wasn’t a creep or a loser. He was a good guy. Clean, responsible, handsome and in the same age range as you and Enjin. Enjin’s jaw ticked. It was hard to explain, it wasn’t jealousy or anger that filled him. More of a sourness or bitterness that made him turn away, tired of that story they were whispering about. Gris was a good man, the kind that was always something serious. 

Soon after, farewells were finally exchanged between you. You returned to work and slid down the aisle. Spotted your nosy friends and shooed them to get back to work. They scattered. He watched you, unnoticed yet through the shelf. How you mumbled categories to yourself, leaning on your rolling ladder. 

Until you abruptly slid some books aside right by Enjin’s head. You were startled for half a second before smiling at him through the gap.

“Hello, Enjin.”

“Milady, come here often?” He winked.

“Pfft,” You rolled your eyes. 

Enjin laid on the charm thick as you talked. You didn’t blush or get nervous anymore when he flirted or teased you. The grown woman's self confidence had returned to you. Now you rolled your eyes, played hard to get and were flippant with him. It all sounded suspiciously like saying, ‘eat your heart out.’ Now you smirked when he flirted with you platonically, that sounded suspiciously like, ‘do something about it.’

You stayed like that, talking through the opening between the shelves, for an hour. 

After some time of this long, elaborate mating dance he let himself indulge in a few more hypotheticals. He wondered if maybe down the hall at night you thought about him too. Maybe at the same time he thought of you?

When he took himself in his hand and worked himself up, did you hitch your breath while you flipped the page of your book. Any one of those smutty stories you had on your shelves; alphabetized, annotated and highlighted to hell and back. Fuck, you were cute.

Would it be possible that maybe the dorky rakes wearing poet shirts from your books began having blonde hair and tattoos? Did you always have a thing for troublemakers and badboys? Did your books begin starring rogues with large, rough hands and dimples? 

Did your own hand disappear beneath your blanket? Did you think of fingers with tattooed rings in their place that disappeared inside you? Did you have to bite your lip to keep quiet like he did? 

You confided in him once. One quiet evening spent in, while he taught you how to cheat at poker. Told him how none of your boytoys satisfied you like you did. What a complete waste that was.

Music up there was so bland until you came to the ground. Did those rakes maybe start to feel boring once you saw real troublemakers? When you finally let yourself stop being shy in the privacy of your own room, did you let yourself indulge like him?

Let yourself think of tall blondes that could finally rail you like you always wanted. Like you deserved. Blushed at fantasizing about being squeezed, bruised and tossed around. Let yourself entertain the notion of finally meeting a man that could make you cum like all the heroines in your stories seemed to always be able to find. Maybe even let yourself ask what if you finally already met him? Let yourself picture Enjin being that man for you.

Enjin could be that for you. He could be the lead in your story that treated you right. He could be the man whose name you cried out. That pounded you into the mattress and caressed you afterwards. That would never let you go unsatisfied again.

Enjin let himself hope. He could be your man and that, maybe, you hoped for that too. Fuck!

He spilled in his hand. Enjin laid there panting and stared at his ceiling.

In the following days he realized two things. The first one caused the blood in his veins to freeze. If what always happened before happened this time…

When his charm and novelty wore off. When beautiful, intelligent, curvy, naughty women moved on. Those were always the times when not being anything serious really sucked.

The picture of you moving on though… This would be the worst one of them all. This one would be gut-wrenching.

The second one caused the blood in his veins to boil. How many times were you just a bit of fun or a quick fuck too? How many times did you find a new boyfriend and hoped it would be different? Only to be left disappointed over and over again. How many times did spoiled, Sphereite little pricks get handed a good woman and tossed you aside in the morning?

Were you excited when you were engaged? Did you think: finally, the search was over? Someone who wanted you, at least enough to keep you around. Did your heart break when you opened up and saw that that ungrateful, chicken-fucking Asshole didn’t want any of what made you you.

The stark difference between how you were when you and Enjin first met versus now was striking. In the beginning you glared daggers at him but kept quiet. Little by little you became more vocal. He witnessed, in real time, you come out of your shell and trust him with everything hidden beneath.

When you told him about what it was like on the Sphere, he imagined you stoic and filtered. Having spent your entire life up until that point minimizing and concealing. How you needed to bite your tongue. Purge, process and purify your words. Sanitize your personality. Rectify your desires. Censor your thoughts.

The mere idea of you dimming your spark enraged him. 

Strangle. Smother. Quash. Muzzle. Suppress. Silence. 

That one was pretty close. 

These were the only kinds of words he could dig up when he thought of you like that. They all hit the nail right on the head, but none of them were the exact one he was trying to get out of his mouth. He flipped through his dictionary when he couldn’t find the word himself.

Then the one time you tried to unmask and reveal yourself–

… Erase… That son of a bitch tried to erase you.

That spoiled prick was given a work of art and treated you like a stain. Swept you under the rug because you didn’t fit in his tiny, boring frame above the mantle. But here you were, the loudest you had ever been.

He could be that man for you. Enjin had had his fair share of fuck ups and failures. He was knuckle headed and learned things the hard way. He was the furthest thing from perfect. He was broken and duck taped back together. Several of his breakups he definitely deserved and had coming. But it was like he told Rudo, he recognized his faults and saw where he needed to change. 

If he had met you ten or five years ago, he would’ve fucked this up royally. But you didn’t meet ten or five years ago. You met now, after all the growing pains. Enjin was a grounder at the end of the day. When he broke something, he fixed it. He could be that man you wanted, that you should have been had at this point honestly. 

And when he fucked up, he would fix it. He would do right by you. If you gave him the same chance. It’s why he always said he liked the forgiving type. He lived in a harsh world with downright cruel circumstances. Failures on the ground had unfairly heavier costs. And the reality was everyone in this world was only human at the end of the day, those ladened costs were inevitable.

You trusted your bitch-ass Fiancee with your true self, your vulnerability, your fiery passion, your spark. And he left you shivering in the pouring rain.

But Enjin wouldn’t. He’d cherish whatever pieces you gave him. When he stumbled, he’d make it right. If you left it up to him, he’d get it done. If you trusted him with your spark, your secrets, your heart, he’d keep them.

Dry under his umbrella. Warm inside his coat. Safe in his hands.

And you did. He saw it in all the little things. You forgave him and trusted him with your secrets over and over.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Course,”

“I technically wasn’t ‘thrown out’ with the trash…” He watched you chew your lip. Nervous energy permeated off of you, big doe eyes afraid. “I jumped.”

“Isn’t that basically suicide though? From what you’ve told me you guys don’t know anything about the ground, it's called the pit, it could’ve been a bottomless pit for all you knew.” Enjin’s eyes were glued to you, hyperobservant as always.

“Correct… My betrothed hired people to make me disappear and I ran until I was cornered. It was a simple calculation. I wasn’t strong… at the time. I didn’t have a chance of winning. Out of pure dumb luck, it happened to be the day for soft materials and household garbage to be thrown, clothes, bedding, food waste, you name it. They were going to throw me out with the garbage when they killed me anyway, if I stayed I would hit the ground dead. If I jumped, the odds were infinity to one…”

“Infinity to one what?”

“For the infinity, death. For the one, anything… While I would most likely die, there was that one slim chance that could be anything.”

“What do you think now that you’ve seen what that anything ended up being?”

There were bad people everywhere but it wasn’t until you fell from grace and landed in hell that you found friends. There raiders and robbers and scavengers and human traffickers on the ground. But there was also Semiu, Tomme, all the children and Enjin. Weary of each other at first you may have been, this was the first time in your life you had people. 

Enjin, for all his brashness, took care of those kids. For all his cheek and smart mouth, looked out for people. Despite all your instincts screaming at you. Despite there being plenty of snakes on the ground. This was also the first time you met people you could trust. So even though he was an arrogant, annoying, crude, manwhore; Enjin always watched your back.

Anyone could have found you. The organ movers, the slavers, the raiders. Zodyl, no doubt, would have killed to be Enjin when either Rudo or you hit the ground. But when you opened your eyes, three young pairs looked back. For all the righteously placed anger they could have held, you saw only caution mixed with concern. 

“I think I might just be the luckiest person alive.”

“Ye of little faith, mama.” He grinned once when a mission was completed. It had started well, went quickly sideways but he had steered it back–in a right answer with the wrong formula sort of way but you got there in the end.

You shook your head incredulously at him and rolled your eyes but you were smiling. “I always trust you.”

Despite all your nagging and criticisms–actually… He reconsidered himself. Because of the nagging and criticisms. He didn’t see it at first, but all the lectures, reprimands, critiques and chastises were not for the sake of complaining and disapproving every little thing about him.

Loathe he had been to admit it way back when during your training, a messy pack in an emergency could cost life saving seconds. Reckless guessing could double the risks of discovery. You may have chided him for his attitude or tactics but you always did give him the keys back, referred to him on missions, and in all his mastermind-hair brained schemes you always believed it would work. 

“Yeah, I know I sound crazy and dumb. We can’t all be eggheads.” He had said once.

“You’re not dumb, Enjin.” You had told him once. “Just because you’re not the same kind of intelligence doesn’t mean you aren’t smart. You have almost unnaturally accurate intuition, that’s not something you can teach. You always know what people need to hear, you’re a good leader. And anyhow you're actually pretty good at any math or science that’s relevant to you and your technique.”

He studied you as you added extra rations to his inventory, restocked his first aid kits, the way you angled yourself beside him the moment before a fight because you knew he had you covered. Your chastising was you caring. You called him out when he deserved it but you always trusted that he’d handle things in the end. When he noticed that was when he finally started noticing other things.

The little smile you kept tucked away when you barked at him and he played with you back. During days off you always accepted whatever time he proposed to spend together. You always sat next to him during poker. You read your books in his space, absentmindedly traced the swirls of his tattoos. He was the first person you went to with gossip. When you cooked or baked, while you played with him and acted annoyed with his messing around in the kitchen you always gave him the spoon and he washed the dishes.

You only let yourself get drunk around certain people and he was one of them. How you clung to his arm and knew you’d wake up home. You didn’t have to worry about creeps and losers when he was around. You always held ice to his face when he got rid of them.

How many times had the both of you, heart broken and chipped, been used and forgotten? It genuinely pissed him off now. At first it stung, were times when it hurt. He remembered being angry about it at first. Then he learned to live with it cause there was no other option. He had lived making peace with it for years. Now he circled right back to anger.

He was so tired of this shit. Fuck it, he’d do it his damn self. He tried to imagine what it looked like if you gave him a shot. If you trusted him with your body, he’d be so damn good to you.

The smooth skin of your unblemished throat, blemished. What would your mascara look like teary eyed? Lipgloss smudged? Soft sides bruised? Clothes disheveled? He caught himself envying all your Sphereite exes and boytoys that had the privilege of witnessing it. Lucky bastards. But now, hopefully, he could be the lucky bastard.

Everything that was precious was hard to come by down here. Food, clean water, shelter, clothes. But it wasn’t just the landscape that was brutal. Good people were just as difficult to come by. Safety, medicine, trust, friends, allies were all hard earned. 

Dating on the ground was a hazard. Best case scenarios were nasty breakups, worst case scenarios were betrayal. Like he said before, everything had a heavier cost on the ground. Down here betrayal can get you sold, dead, or wishing you were dead. 

If you lucked out and found people, ones that looked out for you and cared, you took care of them. When he was a younger guy, he was a punk ass that just wanted fun. He didn’t think long term. Now as a grown ass man while he still had casual fun, honestly, he was just looking for his old lady. 

You trusted him with your safety and wellbeing. With little pieces of you. Each one he accepted, he was rewarded with another. He liked hot women who were smarter than him. Which is why he also liked a forgiving woman.

‘I’m sorry that I’m a fucking idiot.’

‘That it takes me forever to figure things out.’

‘I’ll always fix it.’

Enjin just thought he wouldn’t need to demonstrate it almost immediately to you though. But as was the way of the Abyss, disaster always had superb timing.

“That music festival is coming up, you excited?”

“Oh yes! I borrowed some of Riyo’s albums to check out some artists ahead of time,”

“What do you think about grounder rock?”

“It's so loud, it made my heart pound. It felt really angry, I didn’t know music could make you feel, I don’t know. Seen? Like… you’re not alone. I really liked them.”

His brow furrowed. Fucking hell, he began wondering if the Sphere had anything at all. 

“You got some repressed anger issues there, sweetheart?”

“Apparently, yes.”

“Nice, which stages did you want to go to?”

“Well thank you for asking, actually I really want to see all the ones Riyo didn’t have. I want to hear as many as possible but I can’t decide which ones.” You pulled out a newer flyer that had the venue and performance layout on the back. It was already highlighted and color coded because of course it was. 

“I know a couple of those groups,”

“You do?” Your eyes lit up, ready to begin annotating your margins.

You were shoulder to shoulder.

“Yeah…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I could show you a few of them. Would you be interested in wanting to go together?”

You looked up. He was already looking at you.

Years of working under pressure had steeled his resolve. He looked calm but his heart was drumming against his ribs. He waited for your response with bated breath. He had that cheeky smile on, annoyingly charming.

“You’re being mean.” Your voice was small and raw. No multi-syllable shields or pride as armor. Just a sweet girl that didn’t know how not to care so much about everything. Tired of being shamed or mocked for all the feelings you were tired of hiding.

He cursed at himself and everything else when he saw those big, doe eyes vulnerable and hurting. That was fair. You weren’t used to being taken seriously either. His resolve from before cemented into place. Fuck those noble lordly bitch-boys. Fuck your Fiancee and the Sphere he came riding on. He followed after you and spoke at the same time as you.

“I’m not, I promise–”

“This is mean. You can joke and make fun about a lot of things–”

“I’m not joking–I aint making fun–”

“I know that I look like some silly, gullible–”

“You’re not silly–”

“Infatuated ingenue–”

“What does that even mean–” he started smiling again just watching you be you.

“Or some schoolgirl crush–”

“How do you spell ingenue–” He pulled out his dictionary and started flipping through the O section.

“Struck with frivolous calf-love–”

“Calf-love? Is that like moon-calf?” He smiled flipping through the pages. Before finally, voice firm, “Hey!”

You finally stopped. Slowly, you turned to look at him again. Eyes misty.

He wasn’t frustrated. He got it. You were scared, for the exact same reason he was. If this, if you, ended up just being for some fun with him… 

This would be your gut-wrenching one that really fucking sucked too. You had your own cracks cutting into your heart and any hands that tried to pick up pieces. You thought you had already finished this before. He saw what it was really about. What if you did believe him? You believed it last time too.

You had opened up about it once. Your Fiancee and you had hit it off. He was your closest friend. You did all your nerd stuff together and you found someone to share your secret defiant side with. Someone who joined you and stayed for longer than a night. You thought you weren’t alone anymore.

“I didn’t know music could make you feel, I don’t know. Seen? Like… you’re not alone.”

How lonely did you feel in the heavenly rafters? Surrounded by people, crowds even, but no one within reach. If they hadn't found you… there were some pretty vile folk down here too.

It bites. It sucks. It’s downright dangerous being a decent person that gives a fuck in a world that couldn’t care less. So he didn’t take any offense to your reaction nor was he dissuaded by it.

Because Enjin understood. You did believe him and that’s what scared you. The last time you believed it, your best friend, the best boyfriend you had ever had, the guy you were going to marry, tried to murder you. 

You searched and searched and searched. A fiery heart driven stir crazy. Yearned to find and feel all the things that were only human. You weren’t perfect like you were supposed to be. You tried to embrace that and it almost killed you.

Enjin wasn’t the one who broke this, but he would help you mend it anyway. On the ground, if you were lucky enough to find something thrown out that was still so good, you patched it up and you kept it. He’d be the extra set of hands you need.

When you needed someone to hold something in place while you applied glue. The finger to press down on the string while you tied the bow. 

“I’m not kidding. I’m not joking. I aint messing around. I don’t play about you, your majesty. I am down so fucking bad for you its not even funny. I want to take you out and, fingers crossed if you’d be down, I wanna make you my old lady. I don’t want anything casual about you. So what do you say, ma? Let’s give this a shot. Wanna give me the time of day and let me take you out?”

He didn’t spout any poetry or sonnets. He didn’t plead you for a grand gesture he needed to do. He just stood there, boots firmly planted. He spoke, his voice warm and raspy, and he told you plain as day. Because he knew you already believed it. The only question now was did you still want to look for love and romance.

His opinion may be completely biased but he was rooting for you right now. At first he didn’t think much of your ‘boldness.’ Your definition of bad and rulebreaking was pretty dorky in his book. But he’s since realized he was being unfair.

All those things were illegal and you still took the chance. You spoke up, maybe not for the ground at the time, but to make things better. Gave up certainty, stuck your neck out and took a chance.

Back against the ledge, literally, you saw a shot in the dark. A slim sliver of a pinhole. A hypothetical really. Between a rock and a hard place, between death and the unknown with death still a most likely outcome. Between oblivion and the Abyss. You jumped.

That was metal as fuck. Sometimes you did it with confidence, sometimes shivering and afraid but you took your shot, every time. Don’t let them take that from you. 

Enjin, just like he did with everyone he helped, took a step back, gave you space and let you breathe. Because that’s what he did. He reminded people they can do anything. He planted his boots firmly, told you the truth and then he let you defeat what was left of the Sphere still inside you. 

Your heart was pounding. Phantom sensations of wind whipping against you. Memories of falling flashed through your head. His voice cut through all the noise and brought you back. Grounded you.

“I can promise that it’ll be a bitching–what did you call it… It’ll be a bitching cotillion.”

You breathed. Okay, now think.

You began reciting facts and logic. This was a trauma response. The fear that what happened before would happen again. The phantom sensations, the blood pumping in your ears, etc. 

Two options laid before you. Their outcomes were a simple calculation. The odds were one to infinity.

One: Enjin betrayed you one day and could leave you for dead.

Another shock, another heartbreak. Everyone everywhere would always be a risk. You would never be immune to betrayal, that's why it’s a betrayal. No one sees it coming. It will always be shocking.

You survived this far therefore the evidence dictates beyond a shadow of a doubt, while it would really fucking suck, you could handle it. You are stronger than you have given yourself credit for.

Resilience is not to be bulletproof, but the capacity to withstand and recover. Nobody wants needing to be resilient, you just have to try when it's called for. That’s all anyone can do. Every connection will always technically be a leap of faith.

Infinity: Anything. Everything.

The endless possibilities of the cosmos were and always shall be across the ravine known as fear.

You got to know Enjin plus you discovered he was wonderful. That ended up equaling for you that Enjin was clearly someone absolutely worth falling for.

Which left now a simple choice: 

Was he someone you would leap for?

“... What’s that?” You nodded to the dog eared book he was holding. His hand blocked out the whole cover.

“Oh, it’s a dictionary.” Enjin held up and gestured with his copy.

“Why do you keep a dictionary with you?”

“Cause you use a lotta fancy words that I’ve never even fuckin’ heard of, missy.” He flipped through the pages quickly with his thumb like he did when he shuffled cards during poker. “And I like talking to you.”

Your heart skipped. You allowed yourself to indulge and you hoped. You hoped that–what if, maybe, this could might possibly, oh fuck please let it be, different this time.

The choice: Was he someone worth leaping for? Yes, and you’ve realized, you are too.

Some people cannot afford the risk of infinity. And that’s okay. Some people do not want or are not interested in the infinity. And that’s okay. Neither infinity nor one was wrong.

Against the odds you’ve searched all this time for the things you wanted to have one day. You were not someone that has elected the infinity too unsafe to pursue. You definitely were not the latter, not in this story at least. Maybe in another life, another world. You were not someone uninterested in the infinity here though.

Despite the pursuit of the infinity almost killing you, you fought tooth and nail to find it. For whatever reason, this dumb bitch still wanted it. 

So, who were you to stand in your way?

“... I’d really like that.”

“Yeah?” He grinned.

“Yes,” you swallowed, “I’d love to go to a concert with you and all those other things you said too.”

“Fuck yeah,” Which sounded suspiciously a lot like ‘I knew you could do it.’

A warm, buzziness had settled over you both like a blanket but you were still on a mission and needed to carry on. The two of you were a dynamic duo afterall; a package deal one could even say. One that built a reputation from an endless stream of successful missions and assignments completed side by side. Everything was going good for once. Until Enjin made the mistake of forgetting where he was. 

“How sweet.” A mocking voice sliced through that warmth. 

It ripped open the air itself. Whirling colors appeared that sucked all the warm tones from the scene opened behind you. Backlit, giving your edges a halo but casted a shadow across your face. Raiders. 

Enjin made his first mistake, he blinked. He hesitated, not out of fear or doubt or lack of courage. Just the completely human response of not understanding what was going on for a split second.

His name shredded its way out of your throat in the most haunting shriek, hand outstretched. You called out. You hadn’t looked at him with that same genuine terror in your eyes since he first met you. 

Ripped backwards into the swirling colors of the portal, you jolted Enjin awake and he launched forward. But he was a split second behind to catch your hand. You slipped right through his fingers. The portal sealed. Enjin fell to the ground where it once was.

A single moment of carelessness that cost everything.

He’s a man of practicality. It didn’t matter how many tasks you completed together, it didn’t matter if it was a mistake. It didn’t matter that it was only human. There was no point in guilt because it didn’t matter if he let it eat him alive. All that mattered was that he was caught off guard and you were taken now.

He didn’t beat himself up about it. Feeling bad doesn’t do anything. The universe really said time to test that resolve he had reached earlier. Nut up or shut up.

He stood up from the ground and started fixing it.

All the events that had passed seem to fall into place. Things he initially thought completely unrelated all came together. The countless ambushes from different unsavory groups trying to kidnap you. The doohickey that had been taken off his person, apparently, a prototype internal piece for a one way long range transmitter that could pierce anything, even the border. Zodyl’s interest in you.

The Cleaners and other factions were looking to reach the Sphere. You offered to help conduct research and incriminated yourself to share the same interest of returning. You, a bride, spoke of learning about the ground and wanting to change the world. He, your Fiancee, who preached of maintaining the status quo. Who wanted to utilize your intelligence and research for its continuation. Who feared your voice and your mind enough to kill you.

Above all, you were not technically thrown out. You leaped. There was nothing to show for those men to prove they finished the job. Meaning, unfortunately, the chicken-fucking Asshole looked at the most brilliant woman ever and saw a loose thread, a liability. Last but not least, unfortunately, he was a fucking nerd like you that dotted all the I’s and crossed all the T’s. 

Fuu, while not told about this elaborate scheme, knew Zodyl and how he worked. He took one look at all the pieces and provided the clarity they had all missed. There were clearly Sphereites that went back and forth.

It wasn’t exactly beyond him to use the Sphereites' own against them as their downfall. Fuu mentioned Zodyl probably loving how poetic it would be, actually. They sent messages telling them you were alive, probably wanting rescue or to return home. You were bait for someone that either loved you enough or wanted you dead enough to answer.

“The turtle stretches its neck outside of the shell and…” Fuu trailed off, letting the insinuation hang in the air. “But I’m not sure when or where the meet up would take place.”

 “I can venture a guess.” Rudo spoke up. All eyes on him now. “If I know anything about the rich on the Sphere and Zodyl, what’s the absolute worst, most heartless choice? Her Fiancee went to all this trouble to hide and not wanting to be seen or discovered. There’s a perfect distraction coming up now.” 

Semiu pinched the bridge of her nose. “The fucking Trash Talk Tour. Now I’m just pissed I didn’t see this shit coming along my damn self. Alright people, let’s go. Time to get to work.”

Enjin’s fingers traced your color coded flyer on the counter.

“Enjin, a word…”

The days passed and it felt like an eternity but the evening was finally here. The plan they elected was to approach posed as fans attending any of the concerts and to not tip off the venue until a bit later into the evening. The panic or cancellation would no doubt scare off the Tool with the stiff upper lip and who knows when he would resurface again.

Enjin adjusted his tie, nodded back to his team before they split into the crowd and everything fell in motion. Then everything quickly went to hell in a hand basket.

The venue was in chaos. Attendees, employees, volunteers and performers alike running everywhere in a mass panic. Crowds illuminated with bursts of colors by the fireworks overhead. Team Akuta was painted in a kaleidoscope of colors across various levels of the mayhem.

Zanka pushed against the flow of the escaping techies in some rafters. The last few finally moved past him. His hand shot out and snatched a wandering wrist the same moment the catwalk was submerged in blue.

“Damn, nothing gets past you it seems,” A blonde employee that didn’t look frightened enough amongst her panicked compatriots purred. Zanka recognized her, the buxom bar worker and her previously established skill for sticky fingers.

With one of his hands occupied, his only response was swifter than the eye could blink. A cry of pain rose beside them. With his other hand he snapped the Lovely Assistaff and stunned her colleague, slinking in shadows beside them.

“Not a damn thing.”

The equipment behind the deconstructable main stage was dyed in a myriad of verdant hues. Riyo, surrounded on all sides by the very same human traffickers you had fooled once before, smiled. 

Not paying a single one of them any mind or their threats of her being outnumbered. Riyo was too busy looking under some cabling and amps tucked away to the side, amused.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah whatever guy,” she rotated the volume knob on a small side speaker hooked up for employees. The same song that played on the radio that day reprised itself on the speaker now. “Talk about irony, amirite?”

The winding open air stairwell was aglow in crimson. Hanging cables and scaffolding added a tangled canopy to the landscape. Enjin sprinted up the spiral stairs, desperate to reach the highest point when he caught a glimpse of you. Your captor, the last of that cadre of organ movers, whipped around once he recognized he couldn’t outrun who was at his heels.

“Don’t move!” He held you at knife point, the cool metal chilled your skin. Shivers ran down your spine and mirrored the dried tearstreaks that ran down your cheeks.

“No need for anything drastic,” Enjin’s smooth, smarmy voice oozed out of his smile.

“Aht-aht! Hands up!”

Enjin halted mid-step. He lifted up his hands, Umbreaker hooked onto his wrist and dangled there. There was that beautiful, familiar, angry look on your face.

“We’re going to keep going up these stairs and you are going to stay right there, got it pal?”

“Got it, I won’t go another step higher.” He watched your glare shift from the man threatening your life to Enjin. Already tired of whatever game he was starting to play.

The last of the Organ Movers tried moving up the steps without turning his back but was stopped when Enjin spoke again.

“What about my friend though?”

“She’s obviously coming with me, you dumb fuck.”

“So no instructions, got it. I wasn’t talking about her.” Enjin let out a loud whistle. “All yours, Kid!”

There were thunderous crashing noises coming from what felt like all around. Rudo erupted from below through the open center of the spiral stairway wielding, who the fuck actually knows, honestly! Almost as if in slow motion the scum was face to face with the reigning crown prince of Doodads and Thingamabobs. A loud scream escaped your captor’s mouth before Rudo pushed him over the railing and they were both airborne.

“Enjin!” That same haunting shriek from days before echoed itself and a cold sweat broke out down the back of Enjin’s neck. Enjin reached for you and this time he didn’t hesitate.

Listed over the side at a life flashing angle, Enjin’s arm caught you around the waist. He brought you securely back to the center of the steps but he couldn’t enjoy the sight for long before Rudo’s previous crashing compromised the integrity of your current location.

“Look out!” You yanked Enjin by the tie and dragged his colossal ass several levels lower. “Do I have to do everything around here?”

Once on a secured landing, in the span of a skipped heartbeat the world was gilded. You both immediately began examining one another and looked for injuries.

Warm and flushed against his hands, here you were. No cuts or wounds, no bruises, no lumps and no bumps. There didn’t seem to be anything broken, swelling or sore. 

You continued fretting as he cupped your cheek, not paying attention. They had you dressed like an attendee and out of all the costumes they could have chosen, they had you draped in satiny white. He wiped away the streaks with his thumb, the only disturbances in your always pristine make up. He fiddled and admired your earrings with his index finger.

“Hey, angel…”

Finally satisfied that he wasn’t injured, you stood still and breathed. Your chest heaved. You pouted. 

“Y-you– you… Y-yoou y-o-ou,” Fists pelted his chest. You shoved him as you stuttered. The rainfall of smacks, shoves and fists were uneven, punctuating the inbetweens of your repeatings. “You… you… You…”

Really? Almost instantly his own temper ignited to mirror you, a perfect match. “You have got to be kidding me, your high-and-mighty-ness! What? What?”

“You! You! You!”

“Me, me, me, me! What?” He wrestled with your wrists but didn’t completely restrain you. Your pummeling weakened now but still a continuous onslaught so you started kicking. You were infuriating, atta girl! “What? What’s a matter? Run out of buzzwords finally, Miss Ma’am!”

“...You! …Yo-u!” A hiccup. Small but clear, you sniffled. Tears welled your eyes. Whatever was caught in your throat, was brimming your entire soul. Punches weakened and weakened, until your hands clung to his shirt, wrists still encased in his own hands. Eventually you slumped against him. Clutched him, scared he might disappear.

Enjin’s tone lost its bite, his eyes softened. He bowed his head and whispered against the top of your crown. “... What?”

“... you… you came?” A sob, shoulders trembled beneath him.

Enjin rubbed your wrists. He slid one of his hands up. He covered and pressed a clinging fist to his chest. With his other palm, he snaked his arm around you and cradled the back of your head.

“... you called.” 

Enjin let you shiver against him for a moment and he couldn’t help but lighten the tension once more before disaster struck.

“Your Highness,” he could feel a weak smile against his chest.

“Scoundrel,” you tilted your head up and graced him with your smile.

“Scoundrel? Scoundrel?” Enjin echoed in feigned offense. His voice low, he let himself taste the word on his tongue. He rasped it and let you feel it rumble in his chest. “I think I like the sound of that.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his teasing. “Of course you would.”

“I think you like the sound of it too.” He brought your fist up and kissed the back of your hand. “Otherwise you wouldn’t say it so much. I think you like scoundrels, Your Highness.”

“Why would I–” You were cut off by those fucking dimples.

“I think you do. I think you like all kinds of–what were some of those other things? I think you just might be into ruffians and mooncalves, recidivists and vulgarians.” Alluring, mischievous golden eyes that melted seamlessly with the world all around you. He crooned, low and husky despite all the wildness and danger that still surrounded you.

“But I think you like scoundrels most of all, Your Highness. I don’t believe there were nearly enough of them in your life.”

“I happen to like good and respectable men, thank you.”

“Scoundrels can be pretty decent and respectable.” He tilted closer, the air between you quickly shrinking.

“You’re not respectable,” You breathed against his mouth. Completely overlooking the part where you failed to deny that you thought him a good man but Enjin didn’t.

“You’re right about that, mama…” The words danced out of his mouth like his cigarette smoke. He sealed the path to any more conversation, letting you and your words sink into his embrace.

You hummed. Enjin left no room for air, let alone arguments. Ever the scholar, you took note of your new self-discoveries. First, you liked the color gold very much actually. Second, you liked good men, not gentlemen. Third and final, good men knew when not to be gentle.

He cleared the path to speak and parted from you. He smirked, watching you follow his smile like you were lassoed to it. “Adventure’s not over yet. We gotta go, Your Highness.”

Sense returned and so did your pout. “I knew that, you're the one who was being such a tease, you scoundrel.”

A beat passed and he took off down the stairs, helping you down them with your hand in his. 

“Awe, that was so sweet.” A voice intruded and the world twisted upside down. Your laugh morphed into a shriek, the golden air swirled with blue from a foreign source. 

A churning portal opened below your feet just as you had stepped and swallowed your dive. Enjin’s grip ironclad, he did not hesitate and pitched forward to follow. You emerged, spat out the other end, the wind howled all around. Exposed to the elements and the light of the fireworks above.

Enjin, not initially invited for this little trip, had a rougher landing and his head spun. When everything finally became rightside-up again for his center of gravity he leapt to his feet and scanned his surroundings.

The world burst into a kaleidoscope of colors. His suit coat whipped around him from the unobstructed wind. Open air, open sky, open stretches between the precarious beams that were the only walkways and footholds, all the way up here at the top of the infrastructure. Where the summits of all the stages' arching frames spiderwebbed together.

At that same moment several of his allies and friends had made it up here. Follo, Bro and Tomme entered the scene. Each from a differing cardinal direction. 

Mammoth chunks of debris launched by. The teleporting raider girl stood beside Zodyl, lying in wait for his command. Zodyl stood face to face with what he hunted, eyes void of expression. He calmly watched the prey take the bait.

At the top of this metal canopy was a stand off. Enjin looked into the eyes of a soulless, ungrateful Prick. At the top of the grounder world stood a Sphereite man. His method of arrival, unknown and coveted by all down here in the Abyss.

“Now, now, haven’t you caused enough of a fiasco.” A Man in Finery, the slimiest person Enjin has ever seen, scolded and tutted at you. It was almost like the trash storm spilling from the passing Sphere in the distance was at his beck and call. 

You had been grappled in Zodyl’s arms, resisted and kicked the whole way, before he had finally released you halfway up the gangway. Left you stuck like a tightrope walker over open air between himself and your Fiancee. 

Forced to spend all your attention and energy on fighting against the wind that threatened to send you plummeting. You were vulnerable to any advances. The Sphereite Man leaned forward from his secured landing and when your arms spun and waved to regain the balance that teetered he snatched you by the arm.

“Enjin!”

“Hush! That’s enough now!” All your screaming was quieted once again by the chill of cool metal that pressed against you. Before was a blade, now a pistol hovered over your shoulder. 

The world roiled in chaos but all who stood up here froze in anticipation. Enemies lied in wait for a moment to strike. Allies in fear of causing the trigger to be pulled.

“I thank you for her safe return. Now, here’s what will transpire. All of you will return down below where you belong, first. Once done we can make our quiet exit.” He snarled the word quiet against your temple. “Am I understood?”

“Of course,” There was a smile on Zodyl’s face as he beckoned his raider. “We will be right out of your hair.”

They stepped through the portal and vanished. Everyone but your Fiancee knew damn well he wasn’t truly gone and that he would strike. 

“While unreasonable to expect all of you to have sense I do recommend following in the footsteps of your friend there.”

All the members of his team had their hands raised. Enjin spoke and opened the negotiations. Hearts pounded wildly in chests and adrenaline coursed through everyone's veins.

“Why don’t we talk about this? You alright, mama?” Enjin checked in on you, mid-hostage situation, unabashedly.

“Fresh, I see. A bit intimate don’t you think, my dear?” Your Fiancee hissed in your ear.

“What does it matter to you? I was gone!” Rage seethed to your surface from deep below.

“You know I was not always so irascible of a man until you.” Your Fiancee growled and then snapped his head to Enjin again. “It is only predictable that she would garner degenerates for associates. However, to sully yourself with so roguish a rake is repugnant. Have you truly no shame for your endless debauchery?”

“Only she’s allowed to call me fancy mean names.” Enjin spoke first to your Betrothed and then shifted to address you next. “It's weird when your Cuck tries to join in our dirty talk.”

Gun to your head, a trash storm roiled all around and open air beneath, Enjin found a way to break any sense of worry and made you laugh. Your Fiancee spluttered and blushed. He snarled, frustrated, at your giggling at his expense.

“My word! You see where your concupiscence–”

“Con-what now? What the fuck does that mean?” Follo didn’t even let him finish the rest of his pretentious sentence.

“Ugh!” Your Fiancee ever the professor stopped to educate but the thing was, he was never a good teacher. Too absorbed with his own preening. “It means… how else to say it? Licentiousness.”

You could not help but roll your eyes to the back of your head. How else to say it? Really? He had to be kidding. There were so many other ways to say it! What a tool. Follo, Bro and Tomme rotated in their bullying.

“Do you mean like licorice? That sounds nice right about now actually!”

“No, it's not candy. Concupiscence as in lasciviousness, for example.”

“He’s gotta be fucking with us at this point!”

“That’s what I’m saying! He’s just making things up now so he can yank our chain.”

“Ugh, how else can I explain it! Stop laughing! Concupiscence like nymphomania or–or salaciousness!”

Your shoulders began trembling only now it was not in fear. You tried your absolute hardest and were failing to contain your laughter. You couldn’t help it, it was all too funny. Both the man holding you at gunpoint along with the absurdity and sheer cheekiness of the worst danger you had ever been in.

“Dude, this is actually starting to get sad.”

“You almost married this guy?”

“Oh damn, is it some kinky shit? Why is he blushing about it?”

After another moment of laughing at his expense you finally pulled yourself somewhat together again. “Horniness! Promiscuity! Lust! He’s saying this whole mess is my fault because I'm a slut!”

“Ohhhh! Why didn’t he just say that? Rude, by the way!”

“You see it's not as cool when he does it.”

“Yeah, when you do it, you sound so elegant and well spoken.”

“When he does it, he sounds like such a try-hard.”

“Excuse me! What is that supposed to mean?”

The cherry on top was the reversal of now your Fiancee needing a translation. You laughed in his face. “They’re critiquing your vernacular as sesquipedalian and you as verbose for it.”

“Excuse me!”

“Now you see, that’s more like it!”

“That’s what I'm talking about! Now what did you say? What does that mean?”

“I told him, ‘you wordy, you the thesaurus.’”

Another fit of cackles.

He had to keep himself from chuckling. Enjin knew somewhere out here in the night, Zanka was so damn proud of you.

Enjin raised a hand to his collar, waiting. Follo, Bro and Tomme took the center stage of this stand off, taking all attention off of him. Enjin practically faded from sight, but leonine eyes stood watch, prowling from the shadows.

“Enjin,” the voice of his friend radioed in. “The venue is clear. Everyone is evacuated.”

“Thanks, Gris.”

“Enjin,” one of his team piped in, “we’re here.”

“Alright, team, it's show time.” He lowered his hand and re-entered the stage. “Hey, Fuck-Face!”

“Well, that was vulgar.” Your Fiancee whipped around. Enjin and you tagteamed him with the same joke.

“Actually, he’s a leo.”

“Actually, I’m a leo.”

Frustrated and at his wit's end your Cuck lifted the firearm and aimed at Enjin. “I have had enough of this impudence! What is it?”

“Made you look,” You and Enjin purred in unison.

Everything happened all at once. Glowing light permeated off of you but it wasn’t you exactly. Your vital instrument activated. Coming to life, your earrings grew and snaked around the arm wielding the gun, you wrenched it skyward. You definitely broke his elbow.

Children taught you, just as much as you taught them.

Rudo made it his personal mission to help you awaken it. It wasn’t much as of yet. Still only training to master it, but you could use it. It took a lot of energy and almost all your focus for even this but with practise and training stamina would come along the way. Besides right now, you just needed a moment.

The shot went wide and missed hitting anyone. Your Fiancee cried out in pain. Now vulnerable and left wide open, churning color returned beside you and Zodyl’s hand reached out.

Fingers outstretched, desperate to grab and zip away with the Sphereite that knew how to return to the heavens. Those grasping hands were left empty, Rudo launched from below and bit. Zanka and Riyo flew in to catch and keep him from being dragged through when Zodyl instinctively jerked his hand back.

There was a split second when Enjin was face to face with your pansy ass, piece of shit, over his dead body would he let him be, Almost-Husband. Enjin opened Umbreaker, the shing of the blades sung high notes into the air. 

“Enjin, a word…”

“Yeah, boss? Whatcha need” Enjin lingered behind in the office at Corvus’ request.

“While the focus of this mission is a rescue for us, it will not be for the Raiders. You cannot allow them to get their hands on her Betrothed nor can you allow him to escape.”

“Are you giving me the go ahead for…” Enjin trailed off with a growing grin.

“I need you to kill him. While we are all hunting for a way up to the Sphere, we cannot let Zodyl and his faction have him. Zodyl has shown himself to be crafty and resourceful. As such, with an entire music festival and one of our own on the line, I have no doubt he will have plenty of ammunition and endless opportunities to catch a moment of weakness. We can dodge Zodyl that night a thousand times, but his plans of capture need only succeed once to spirit him away.”

“Understood, bossman.” Enjin nodded.

“You have my approval and my expressed instruction to kill this man.” It was then Enjin decided he would make it a point to never remember the Chicken-Fucker’s name. Neither one of you would need to use it again.

A split second was all it took. Enjin flew forward the same instant your Spiteful Ex shoved you over the edge. You fell over first. Blood splattered across Umbreaker and then his head fell over second.

“Enjin!” Rudo screamed.

“I got it!” Enjin dove after you. “Keep to your tasks!”

You free-fell through the air. A hauntingly familiar sensation in the worst way possible.

This time, however, there were no still perfectly good pillows or food scraps to cushion the landing. Below you now was only the cold, hard concrete of the amphitheatre. 

The first time you fell from the sky, you survived through pure, dumb luck. Your life had the odds that were infinity to one. The second time you fell through the sky, the odds were–

Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! 

However, that was a miscalculation.

Enjin was never going to let you live this down. He racked his brain for something cool to say and came up blank. He was so pissed he couldn’t think of anything cause this was priceless!

Enjin dove through the air. A familiar and almost second nature sensation for him. He bobbed and weaved expertly through the debris. 

Focus.

The acceleration of gravity caused any object’s downward velocity to increase by 9.81 magnitude per time interval which meant he and you would accelerate at exactly the same rate. You, unfortunately, had a headstart on him therefore you would hit the ground before he could reach you. 

The force of gravity is stronger on heavier objects than lighter ones. Enjin’s colossal ass, as you so graciously put it, was heavier. He would fall faster if you two had been in a vacuum but thanks to your now dead Chicken-Cucking Ex and the trash storm he brought along with him you were not in a vacuum.

Okay, so he couldn’t use that! Seriously, fuck that guy. He wished he could kill him twice. Enjin was taller than you. Mass has no effect on acceleration though, so him being taller wouldn’t do much in this kind of scenario. 

Oh!

However, there was this fun little thing called air resistance. The force that worked against an object’s motion as it moved through the air. By changing the shape of an object as it fell through the air you could differ how the air resistance affected it. Objects with wider surface areas had more drag and he was… taller. Fuck!

You swandived because of fucking course you did, princess. So the next thing he could have possibly tried out was to–oh fuck, you swandived! He could work with that! Enjin tilted.

If he changed his angle of attack, the angle that was between the reference line on a body (Him) , the vector (Straight downward fall because gravity) and the fluid (The open fucking sky) that he moved through, he could control his body’s relation to the oncoming flow.

In other words, using angles he could ‘change’ the shape of his mass to have less surface area for the air resistance to work against. By alleviating the friction of resistance on himself alone while you didn’t, then the force of gravity would do her motherfucking thing and take care of the rest.

Enjin nosedived, his hand outstretched. He took off like a shot, the distance shrinking between you. He aimed Umbreaker directly downward as he did. Eyes aglow with anima, the blade at the tip of his instrument almost visibly pierced through the wind, helping himself cut through the air resistance beyond normal means.

In layman’s terms:

It didn’t matter that you fell first. Because Enjin fell harder.

And that’s on aerodynamics, bitches!

“Hey, Your Highness!”

The most obnoxious, aggravating, wonderful voice cut through all the noise, like it always did, from above you. It took all your strength but you turned to fall with your back to the earth so you could face skywards. Below was the sight of slate gray concrete. Above was a whole world of color. It felt like falling through stained glass.

Enjin was grinning as he shot after you, his hand outstretched. You reached back. When he was only a few feet away, the little tears you shed floated upwards, popping across his cheeks. He clasped your hand.

“You know, we really should stop meeting like this.”

You were smiling and laughed at his dumb joke. Lips wobbled, like a little kid trying so hard not to cry and failed. He pulled you in.

“I got you, ma.” His heavy, sturdy hand fanned your waist. His grip was secure. When Enjin held you, he had you. “See what I tell ya? Works every time.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Okay, fine. You’re right, your counter-ambush idea does make ambushes your bitch.”

“Damn straight and don’t you forget it.”

He was never going to let you live this down. Zero was a miscalculation because you forgot in all your panic, which was fair, you were not alone this time. All your friends in the Cleaners and Enjin were now a variable in your life. 

He opened Umbreaker, the sudden swell and shift was jarring but now the descent was no longer a free-fall. Hand around your waist he flew you out of harm to the ground.

The trash storm was almost upon you. The second your feet touched the ground you and Enjin ran to whatever vehicle was closest. Everyone had split into different directions, escaping through whichever route was possible for them. Some in groups, some solo but all of them checked in via collars.

Enjin drove the absolute worst he had ever driven. He also did make it to a cavern to safely wait out the storm so all things considered he was doing pretty well. It had started well, went quickly sideways but he had steered it back–in a right answer with the wrong formula sort of way but you got there in the end.

You burst into a fit of hysterical giggles. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, a face splitting grin to match. Anytime you opened your mouth to say anything, giggling sobs bubbled up to the surface instead. The sort of near-death hysteria of coming out the other side from staring down the barrel of a gun.

He took off his seatbelt and unclicked yours. Leaning over the center console he held your face in his hands.

“Talk to me, mama.”

There was the nail. Your whole life when you were upset, angry, frustrated, heart broken, hurt, anything that caused a scene, you heard the words, ‘don’t make such a fuss,’ or ‘keep your voice down.’ Scared you were sentenced to an eternity of ‘this is a bit much,’ and ‘people are looking,’ and ‘don’t start.’

You openly started sobbing into his hands. Through the shakes you felt a tender kiss placed on the top of your head. With his mouth still pressed against your crown, he mumbled and wrapped his arms around you.

“Come here,” he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him. Strong arms lifted you over the center console and sat you in his lap. Enjin held you tight and let you cry.

You trembled in his arms for what felt like an age and a half. He didn’t release you, he didn’t say anything. The world faded away. The trash storm softened to a distant hum. The edges of reality became the walls of that car. Like you were the only people left. After some immeasurable time, all the overwhelming emotions were released, the shaking subsided and you regained your voice.

At last with no panic or imminent danger or threats, you both now possessed the space to breathe uninterrupted that night. You raised your face and caught eyes with one another. There was silence. Nothing said, everything said. No insanity or humor to distract. He looked at you with such open, unfiltered eyes you were convinced this is what it must feel like to swim in candlelight.

The truth of your feelings simmered between you. Almost dying demonstrated and spotlighted what you both already knew together. A voiceless conversation, a silent understanding of the souls. You looked at each other and agreed. Life was too damn short.

The air shifted, charged, the same charge before a pounce. Enjin smiled, shattering that silence first. Motion returned to you both. The serious things that needed to be understood were understood. Humor returned and now you could just be.

Enjin brought you in and kissed you like you were the only air left in this world. You might have melted. A rugged hand slid up and cradled the back of your head, pressing you into him. Like any amount of space keeping you from him was absurd, offensive, unacceptable. He swallowed any questions, any doubts left between you. He drew your breath from you along with uncertainties or fears.

He almost lost you. He was sorry. Enjin was not wasting any more time. He began his work making it right for keeping you waiting for so long. 

You hummed into him and he tilted his head in the opposite direction, like shifting into a different gear. Enjin kissed you stupid. Purged you of any remnant unrequited longings. Bled you clean of any pining. The kiss was anything but chaste. Intimate, churning, thorough. He made you damn near lose your mind when he started sucking on your tongue. You sighed into him and he deepened his work.

The pressure between you two caused him to dip you but due to the cramped space instead pinned you between him and the interior of the car door. The cool glass of the window somewhat grounded you. Reminded you this was real. Not the books you read or the fantasies you had alone. You clung, scared this would slip away. You were ravenous.

He caressed and stroked your waist, your body heat warming his side. Pliant, doughy love handles rested beneath his palm and Enjin clamped with an iron grip and helped himself to a generous fistful. He was going to devour you.

He smiled against you and you realized he was fucking evil. Enjin with one more, slow sensual work of his mouth tried to pull away, tried to say something. When he managed to unlatch, you whimpered after him. Like a puppy that thought he disappeared when he left the room, the kind that made him want to apologize for tormenting you like that.

You sat up and resealed your mouth to his, causing him to slide back against the driver’s seat. 

‘Damn, I’m sorry.’ He went right back to kissing you. How selfish of him.

When he really could not stand having this coat, or clothes for that matter, on any further he showed some momentary tough love. You’ll be happier, he promised.

He sat up. His hand slid from the back of your head and parked itself along your jaw and the underside of your chin, your head cradled in his elbow. He took hold of you, practically had to tear you off. He held you there whining. 'Please come back, please.'

Enjin chuckled and it sounded like whiskey. He shushed your cries. You finally opened your eyes to pout but then got hypnotized by the string of saliva keeping you connected. You licked your bottom lip, trying to taste it. Fuck.

And because Enjin was a scoundrel he leaned in just to be a tease. He watched you gulp at the air trying to reach him, and he spoke just out of reach. You could feel his breath against your skin. “Get in the back.”

You didn’t understand at first. “Huh?”

His hand nursing the underside of your jaw squeezed. Forced you to listen. “Go to the back seat, woman.”

All at once everything came back to focus. Enjin watched your pupils dilate, registering what he said. 

It was real. It was all real. Excitement, passion, good-good kissing, taut hands. He stopped squeezing and his fingers caressed, dancing across the skin. You smiled and launched yourself over the center console.

Enjin ripped off his coat, kicked off his dress shoes and smacked your ass as it disappeared between the seats. He could get so used to that squeal. He twisted around and because he wasn’t a fucking animal, he threw his giant coat back before lumbering after you. 

You barely gave his lofty headed ass any space, kissing him as soon as his head reappeared in the back between the front seats. For fuck’s sake, girl.

“There’s–kiss–not enou–smooch-room, I nee–” He groaned. Enjin placed a firm hand around your throat and ripped you off his face. With the sternest whisper, “Sit. Back. I need to get back there first, lay my coat down so we don’t ruin this car and I can finally, finally, finally fuck you.”

There’s something about the way he said fuck that slipped into your wiring. 'Oh so he ran a strict program around here?'

“Okay.” You slid as far back into your seat in the corner as you could, took your shoes off as you waited.

Enjin finished clambering back there, laid out his coat and patted your thigh when he needed you to lift yourself. It covered the entire length of the backseat and hung off draping the floor. When he sat down in the center, he started loosening his tie. “C’mere baby,”

There was something about the words he used that scratched an itch and made your brain burr. Woman… I can fuck you… Baby… Old Lady…

It was so familiar. The Sphere liked familiarity but it was never this kind.  The Sphere was familiar. Routine, expected, predictable, orderly, formal. Enjin felt familiar. Informal, intimate, close, personal. Yours, his, affectionate.

Nothing prim, or polite. Nothing ornamental or fashionable to show off over smalltalk. Nothing ceremonious or mannerly. It was raw, private, genuine. It felt warm, naked, real. He spoke to you like you were his friend, his lover, and not like a salesman or a business partner.

You slid over and straddled him. Nothing was fast enough. Stark hands palmed and kneaded your hips, your sides and he groaned into your mouth. Your palms, rubbing his chest, felt the rumble below. Like thunder announcing a storm.

You took off his tie and started kissing his neck at the same time he started sliding the straps down on your dress.

“You clean up really well,” The suit was criminal, actually. Lethal even, you could have died. Then what would he have done?

“I was hoping you would say something. I wanted to show off for you.”

“Awe, you wanted to get all pretty for me?”

“Shut up,” He gave you a sudden, hefty warning spank. You yelped and started undoing his buttons faster.

“I like it, I really like it,” you pushed his waistcoat back. Enjin helped you with his dress shirt.

“Buuuut?”

“Why do you have so many layers on?”

Finally you reached your goal. He shrugged off his waistcoat and dress shirt, leaving him in a plain black undershirt. Rugged tattoo sleeves blended with his black t-shirt. You admired him. Traced the swirls of his tattoos. “There we go that feels more like you.”

“Alright, babygirl, I’m here.” He purred darkly, returning his hands to your waist and buried his face into your cleavage.

“I like when you call me that,” You sighed and it sharpened into a gasp. He sank his teeth into you.

“I’ve called you a lot of things tonight, which one?”

“All of them,” You mused dreamily into his ear.

He let out a pained laugh. How he managed to maneuver such a delicate little back zipper and your bra clasps so deftly with such massive paws you had no idea. That was a lie. Yes, you did. He’s a whore. 

He pinched down hard on your nipple, using the rough callous of his fingers to give you a nice burn. He sucked up the other in a violent, loud, pornagraphic slurp to coax her out.

“C’mon girls, I know you aint shy.” He spoke by keeping the second one between his teeth.

Enjin was right too. Almost like they were done playing coy and bashful, the teasing little things sprouted into his touch, like little gems surfacing from below the earth. “Welcome to the party, ladies. Glad you could make it.”

He gave them both a parting flick. You laughed and grinded down on him.

“Aha, about that actually.” He gripped your hips. He straightened against the seat and pulled you flush to his chest with him. “We need to talk about that, doll.”

“Hm?” You tried to undo his belt but he confiscated both of your hands with only one of his. Oh that was criminal.

“Don’t worry, mama, we are definitely going to get to that.” He pulled your dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties and earrings. “For your first time, you’re going to get the Enjin Special.”

“But I’m not a vir–” You were struck silent. He held your face in his hand, so you could understand the sheer scope of them for yourself. They were bigger than your face.

“Your first time cumming is gonna be right in the palm of my hand.” He palmed your pussy. His hand covered more than your panties did. Just resting in his palm made you purr, seeing the promise of something twice the length of your cunt against it. He could feel the heartbeat of your core on him.

You ground down experimentally, soft, clothed pussy lips rubbed against hard callous. You swooned. Long, thick fingers. Tattooed rings marking depths. Solid, sturdy knuckles. Rough, coarse skin.

“You ready for me to break you in, ma?”

On the Sphere, everything was new, stiff, uncomfortable. It wasn’t until you hit the ground that you got to experience shoes that didn’t pinch, homey clothes, belts that were supple. Creased paperbacks that didn’t scream when you opened them, belongings that remembered you. It was this moment when you’re heart trilled and you realize how truly touch starved you were.

Like porcelain that stared longingly outside of the glass cabinet, envious of the plastic on the dinner table.

Your eyes followed up his arms. Dark tattoos stood in contrast against your skin. Cotton tshirt, not silk or chiffon or anything delicate. His Adam's apple bobbed. And that unfairly handsome, wicked, cocky, Apollonian face. You never stood a chance. You released a shaky sigh.

“Oh god, please.” You whined into the hand that cradled your face, dipping your mouth to kiss the curve created between his thumb and forefinger.

He didn’t even have anything smart to say. Time to nut up or shut up. “I got you,”

He slid the insignificant scrap of fabric to the side, a pathetic barrier, and carded through your folds. He handled you expertly, like the decks he shuffled at poker and just like poker, he was a shameless cheat. Generous fingers threaded along your dewy core, blunt fingertips tapped and teased your entrance. He coated his finger in your sap before sliding in the first digit. You sang in his palm.

“There we go, hun. Open up for me.” He encouraged as he worked his finger up and up, deeper and deeper until he reached his first tattooed ring. “That’s a good girl.”

He leaned in and swallowed your cute little pout into a kiss. You fussed when he nipped. Enjin grinned and pulled back, keeping your bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged and watched you follow.

He bathed in and scraped your gooey heat, appreciated the feel of soft tender flesh caressing his own rough and harshened skin. He was almost to his base knuckle now.

“Ya gotta ease your way in and…” He dug down to his knuckle. “Voila!”

He made sure to give a few testing pumps and once he got a good slide going he ground the bottom of his palm against your clit. You mewled.

“Its a fucking crime,” he began introducing the next finger, “this poor little lady not been stretched out good enough, gorgeous?”

You clutched at his wrists pathetically. A weak attempt of keeping his hands on you. 

“Heh,” He smirked, re-angled his wrist and… Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!

“There you go!”

Seriously, though, if he didn’t watch himself right now it would piss him off. This gorgeous, pillowy, chubby pussy was top shelf and they weren’t even loving her right? He scissored his fingers inside you, stretching you for the next one. You mewled in his other palm.

“Now that I think about it, warm these up for me too, beautiful.” He tapped your lips with two of his fingers.

You smiled like he just gave you a gift and kissed the fingers against your lips before opening. You slid your mouth onto them, hollowing out your cheeks. You moaned and showed some extra love to the spots that had been toughened by life. You suckled around the callous. Swirled your tongue as you bobbed. You clung weakly to both wrists.

Enjin groaned watching you worship his hands. He could feel the vibrations of your moans in your mouth and the pulse of your heartbeat in your cunt. How you used his fingers to ease open your throat for him. Kissed his fingertips a few times when you bobbed out. 

Drool started dribbling out the corners of your lips. Loud, shameless suction sounds rang out from you, a byproduct from your eagerness. 

He saw desperate longing in those eyes. Enjin was right. Sick of propriety and sick of what was considered saucy from your old life. Underneath the lady that blushed when picturing cads ravishing her was a hungry, starving, aching beautiful woman.

One who’s breath hitched when he repositioned his hand to hold you, possessively, by the jaw with his remaining fingers. One that has never had a decent partner who made her cum during sex in her life. One that has never been railed like she deserved. 

He kissed along your jaw and with an evil grin started whispering filth in your ear. Biting on your earlobe. He playfully caught your earrings between his teeth and tugged. You were beyond owed everything you wanted. It wasn’t right. Enjin would fix that.

“You had to take care of this all by yourself, didn’t you?” He kept your pathetic little face in place and pressed his forehead against yours. Breathed the same air.

“Mhm,” You nodded and clutched at his wrist as tightly as you could.

“You couldn’t reach this deep yourself though, could you?” He mimicked your little whine, mocking you. Enjin smiled satisfied when he was down to his bottom rings on three fingers. Your pussy greedily slurped him in. You let out a beggarly moan before letting out a sound of protest. He had purposefully stuttered his rhythm momentarily in warning. “I asked a question.”

“No-oh!” 

“Look at me when you talk.”

Your heart stuttered. You had to force your eyes back open. He was unrelenting with his ministrations. You spoke with your mouth full. “Noh, I couwdn’t.”

“All this time waiting, mama?” He removed himself from your mouth against your wishes. Sat there for a second and admired the long string of saliva that followed his fingers before inevitably popping. Enjin wound his arm around you, scooping you to readjust your legs a bit. “I’ve got you now, daddy’s here.”

With a guided grip on your hip he instructed you to start rocking into his rhythm. “Ride my hand, gorgeous.”

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and rolled your hips with him. Once you built up and had a nice–it was so fucking nice–cadence going, Enjin gave you a hearty, congratulatory spank. It was sharp, loud and honestly startling. You gasped in both fear and excitement, completely caught off guard.

Needing to anchor yourself, you nestled into the crook of his neck. “P-please do-o that again.”

“What?” He tested you by landing another. Smack! “This?”

“Ye-es!”

“Have you never been spanked before, baby?”

You shook your head. You were sucking on his neck and Enjin’s eyes rolled back. You could feel a dark, ambered chuckle rise up his throat beneath your lips. 

He looked down, watched you bounce and enthusiastically ride his hand. The noises coming from your lonely cunt were obscene. Sap trickled down, pooled into his palm before spilling down his wrist. He groaned into your crown. 

He could feel your sweet nipples pressing against him through his shirt. They brushed north and south as you bounced. As he fucked you with his fingers. As you fucked yourself on his hand. 

“There you go, take as much as you need, pretty girl.” He brought down another loud, heavy spank that made you hiss and fisted the jiggles. The beginnings of his handprint started to bloom on your ass. 

“Look at you.” He slid his hand up and returned it to your neck. Forced your focus back to him. What he said made you melt, what you saw made you quiver.

“No more waiting, no more hiding. No more prim and proper. Your Highness just wants to get railed, right? Like the desperate, pretty little whore you are? I am going to wreck this sweet, starving, slutty pussy.”

Draconic eyes that swore draconian treatment. Your breath was pitchy, your core was tightening. You clung to him. You pleaded. “But most of all, I am going to make you cum again and again. But not just for tonight, for the rest of your days, Your Highness.”

You keened and the wire inside you snapped.

“Atta girl, don’t get lost, eyes on me.”

“En-jin!” You shivered, fisting the back of his shirt, desperate to find purchase.

Enjin knew you would lose your faculties, this was your first orgasm with a partner and would be overwhelmed. He kept you upright in his grip around your neck through his motions, riding out your waves with you. He unsheathed his hand from your depths and was met with an immediate whine for his troubles. Already mourning the loss of him inside.

“You’re clinging, baby. I aint going anywhere.” He bundled you up in his arms and put you where he wanted. Enjin laid you out between the seats, splayed across the center console. 

You let out a yip at the sudden movement. When you looked down, Enjin hooked your thighs over his shoulders. You were about to speak but the sight of his mighty paws fanned across your thighs, which were not the smallest, took any voice from you. Knelt between your legs he trailed his hands up and down, appreciating the soft give of your plush.

What was it about men’s hands? The way the knuckles were more prominent, their shape boxier, the blunt fingers or the veins along the backs.

Enjin had every reason to be proud. The way he embellished and decorated them enhanced all those little details. Black swirls at his wrists, decorative dots at his borders. Rings marking altering depths accentuated his long fingers. Painted nails that brought it all together and gave him a wild look. Stylized attention to features.

All those captivating details coming to a head this moment as they spread out across the expanse of your own sizable thighs, bringing back up the reality of their scope. He made you feel just right for him. He trailed sloppy, bitey kisses down your belly to your mound.

He caught the shy look on your face when you registered the implication through your hazed mind.

“You don’t ha–”

“You never been eaten out, gorgeous?”

“O-o-once, not for long. He said his jaw got tired.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, well on the ground we finish the plate and lick it clean.”

He didn’t even give you time to laugh. With two fingers, he spread you open and admired you. No corner of your succulent, weeping pussy was hidden from him. He watched her clench around nothing, in search of a phantom hand. Exposed and vulnerable. Swollen clit that twitched when he circled his fat, painted thumb. She already missed him.

He swirled his tongue in his mouth and pursed his lips. Enjin made sure to make eye contact with you. He made sure you watched him as he wickedly and fiendishly spat on your pussy.

When you gasped at the disrespectful gesture, he grinned. Enjin buried his mouth into your core. This poor, sloppy shivering pussy was weeping with so much love to give and eager to share. Enjin gave you loud, vulgar slurps that hollowed his cheeks and dug out his dimples. When he felt you, overwhelmed by all the newness, try to wiggle he locked his arms around your lower half and pinned you in place.

Wet muscle swiped inside and Enjin made out with your cunt. He could not get enough of you in his mouth. His face sunk into the softness of your lips and his nose pressed against the clit. He gulped her shivers, swallowed her tears and ravaged her halls.

His eyes were hazed while he ate you like a man possessed. Before he finally brought himself back to reality remembering what he set out to do. He came off you with a pop but only for a moment before diving back in, like a swimmer that breached the surface for air alone.

He sucked on the tender clit before kissing and tracing his tongue all along the archway framing your entrance. His arm still locked in place, he slid his hand to teasingly tap on your keystone above your entryway before returning his mouth to its rightful place. He slid two fingers into you and explored. He watched how your cunt sucked his fingers inside as he scouted out your fathoms. 

Squelch! Slurp! Squelch! Slurp! Squelch! Slurp! 

He groaned.

“Shit, this pussy is fall off the bone!” He began with a dry laugh.

“Straight tenderism!” You finished the joke in unison and giggled childishly together.

Enjin dragged thick fingers in and out of you. Savoring the feel of rich, gooey inner linings until he found the prize. A spongy little spot that made you sing, cutting off your laughter. Enjin smiled with a clit between his teeth.

“Bingo.” He returned his lips to resume slurping and chuckled into you. The vibrations traveling through your mound. Your fingers laced through his hair and he grinned like a villain.

He groaned into a laugh when you gave a particularly firm and sturdy pull on his hair. Your fingernails scratched and admired the soft buzz of his undercut. Traced and admired the scar on this side of his face. He was latched on so firmly, he hit depths so expertly, it was like he was a part of you now. You had sealed your thighs around his head on instinct to lock him in place. 

Despite you fisting and tugging on his hair, you pressed down to bury him deeper into you. You never wanted this to end. Until a strange feeling began.

Enjin could feel desperate little clutches trying to communicate. Weak, broken whimpers that couldn’t say anything.

“Enjin, something–ahh! Enjin, I think I'm going to–mmmph!”

“What baby, what are you gonna mmmm,” He hummed into you like when you taste something delicious. Warm, tender, protruding, sloppy clit supple in his mouth.

“Enjin, I’m sca-a-red, it feels like I'm going to–nggh! I think I need t-to pee.”

He pursed his lips harder and gave a hard pull with his tongue, suctioning up your clit before releasing with a pop and smirked. “It's okay, I promise. Don’t hide from it, don’t run, just let it happen.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Trust me,” He slid his free hand into his hair and returned it to rest on your belly only now with your fingers laced into his. He compressed his grip leading your joined hands into a fist, reassuring that it would be okay. The pressure and power of his grip made you swoon.

You were nervous but you trusted him. Once on the other side, you were glad you did. It all came to a summit. Rough, brutalized fingers filled and scraped and massaged you. Fat tips stroking a sensitive, pulpy spot just so and that devilish, sinful mouth that was relentless on your poor, abused clit.

“Enjin!”

Slurp! Squelch! Slurp! Squelch! Slurp! Squelch! 

Like the small fountain in your favorite corridor back at university, sweet nectar released onto him and you almost cried. Fear, panic, pleasure all fused into a beautiful concoction through you. Your shameless body sang so sweetly and primally for him; your cunt marked him like he was territory.

You tried to buck, uselessly, but Enjin’s arms had you firmly pinned. He buried his head and dug his fingers into you like he struck oil. You splashed onto him and sobbed.

“That’s my girl,” He rode out this new high before finally releasing you. With your essence still dribbling down his chin and down his wrist, he rested his head on your belly.

“Open up and help me clean.” He tapped your cheek with a soaked fingertip.

You listened. Enjin watched you suckle on his fingers, tears welling. He could see a trace of that curious inquisitive nature asking with your eyes. Nerd. A mocking, caring voice soothed you. He caressed your cheek with his thumb while you sucked on his fingers and licked down his palm.

“It's called squirting, Your Highness. And I’m so sorry you’ve never heard of it.” You cooed against his hand. Once cleaned to his liking, he playfully took a bite into your plush and shed you of your panties.

“C’mere, sit up.” He helped you back to a right angle. Face to face again he kissed you. “Clean the rest.”

You nodded. He held your face to his and let you lick his chin clean. Dutifully, you finished the plate and licked him clean. He sighed against your soft kitten licks and smiled when you smooched his dimples. He rewarded the adoration with your hand over his groin and kept it there, letting you feel him grow harder and harder as you worked.  Once done you waited for your next instruction. You didn’t have to wait long.

“Take off my belt.” His voice was a low purr that made you shiver. It sounded golden, like the rest of him, but toasted. Whiskey, amber, stained wood, tiger’s eye.

You bit your lip, embarrassed, by the smile that grew on your face in response to that order. The hands of a scholar unbuckled his belt. Enjin pulled his black shirt off and tossed it aside. You could finally see his tattoos on full display. Uninterrupted canvas covered in swirling ink. He wrapped arms, coiled with black and red, around you and grinned.

“Like what you see?”

You nodded, spellbound, a mouse and a trap. Your hands never stopped working and he was freed from his trousers. He was easily the largest man you had ever been with and that went for everything. Wandering hands traced all along him. Solid muscle corded his arms. The full breadth of his exposed shoulders, a living work of art.

His cock bobbed in the space between you. Tanner than the rest of him and the same bold veins that streamed the back of his hands. Head round and dripping. A honey blonde happy trail tapered between the valley of his V-line up to the circular tattoo at his belly. You drank of his comeliness. 

While you admired him he shimmied the rest of his clothes off. Enjin scooped you like you were nothing, returned to his seat and brought you with him onto his lap.

“Here’s what's gonna happen. You’re going to hop on, show me how much you can handle. When I see what we’re working with I’m going to take care of all the rest. Understood?”

You nodded. 

“Use your words.” He gave you an instructive, firm tap across the face, not to strike but the sternness of it caught you off guard. “Look at me, don’t look away. Understood?”

“Understood.” You smiled at the manhandling.

“Should be nice and open now, sweetheart. Take as much as you like.”

You grasped him, he was weighty in your palm. Little streamlets of pre dribbled from his tip. You gave a few steadying pumps, thumb gliding over the split of his head. You traced his weeping tip up and down your folds, painting yourself with him before finally positioning him.

You sunk down in slow, testing increments. Soft little gasps and sighs filled the air. There was a slow expansion at your entry that made you even more eager for the rest. Once his tip was secured past that initial ring of resistance, you took a second to relish. Even with all that preparation nothing could warn you how nice the stretch would be. 

He watched you gyrate your hips to encourage your walls to accommodate him. Enjin knew what you were trying to go for. His little overachiever and he knew for sure you could do it. He sat and watched your face as you felt Enjin’s cock fill you for the first time. Your tipsy smile appeared and your eyes glittered at the idea that this was your new standard.

Dark and mesmerized, his firelight eyes watched chubby lips gulp him down. He rubbed smooth, encouraging circles on your hips. Your pliant, silken cunt swallowed him up. Just like you she was hungry, ambitious, wouldn’t let anything stop her or keep him from her. Until at last, you were fully seated.

You let out the most unladylike, depraved moan. Your insides shifted around him. Gummy walls, while pliant, at such depths were unused to protrusion. Your body had almost settled in what it thought would be permanent placement. 

He dragged so beautifully and his curve hit that spongy spot from before along the way. You pulsed around him. You felt full and complete like he was the sweetest, snuggest puzzle piece. The one you had been missing your whole life.

Once you finally got a good slide built up, you did a few test bounces on him. Slow, heavy, loud and lewd slaps of skin from your descents rang through the air. You were smiling like you had just gotten a gold star.

“All the way… like this, please.” There wasn’t a thought behind those eyes. You had merely bottomed out and already cockdrunk. 

“You sure, gorgeous?” He teased.

“Please…” You couldn’t find the words. “Please… dont… be gentle.”

You leaned into him and had this desperate look in your eyes. You wanted to say something but for the first time you couldn’t find the words. Heartbreaking little pout, head swimming, your eyes trembled at not being able to say it.

Enjin knew what you wanted and had a million ways to say it in his world. You, however, from on high couldn’t find the words to tell him because it didn’t exist in your dialect. Don’t be gentle was all you could come up with. So he gave you the words. 

“Your greed sickens me.” He crooned low in your ear. “I know what you want. Little Miss Perfect just wants me to fuck you like my filthy little slut.”

He felt you shiver.

“Yes, please.”

“Bend over.” He didn’t even give you time to do it yourself. He just manhandled and tossed you onto the seat. With stern hands he guided you on all fours, to arch your back, to stay put and take it. Enjin tormented you, he slapped his cockhead against your entrance and listened to you whimper.

“Enjin, please!”

“That’s not very ladylike,”

“You’re so mean!” You bobbed back, hoping to catch him.

“Yeah, I am. Please what?”

“P-please…”

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it. I want you to hear you say it.”

“Please… I wan–I need…” You hiccuped.

“You’re almost there. Say it and it's all yours. What do you want me to do?”

“P-please–mph…” You looked over your shoulder at him. “Please… ruin me!” 

Enjin plunged deep. From behind he had a much easier give in this angle. Buried himself till his hips were flush against yours. There was only a split second before he began obliging his lovely lady and ruined you.

He started off with firm thrusts, letting you see for yourself first before revving up. Enjin snapped his hips and it was like you lost all sense. You needed to cling to something. Your hands flew everywhere and you wiggled, overcome with so much good and your body didn’t know what to do with it.

“I need you to hold still, baby.”

But you couldn’t. You were a thrashing mess, overwhelmed. How he slammed, his bruising grip on your hips, it was all too good. You couldn’t–or more accurately didn’t know how yet, to have it now that it was here. 

“Hold. Still.”

“I’m tryinnng.”

He gave a warning spank but he was by no means upset or frustrated. As a matter of fact he was grinning. “I need you to stay put.”

“I-I I don’t–I don’t kno–ow how yet.”

“Say less.” He moaned in excitement and began grappling. You squealed.

Enjin used his towering frame to pin you in place and leaned over you. He wrestled your hands together in one hand. With his other he reached over you and stretched out the seatbelt of the car. Enjin quickly and roughly tangled the lengths of strap around your wrists. Once your hands were bound and secured, he abruptly yanked down on the seatbelt till taut and released. The seatbelt’s automatic locking retractors kicked in and snapped back. Your fastened hands were seized, the spring forcing them to follow. This resulted in dragging your lassoed hands across the seat and your arms to be stretched out in front of you, now locked in place.

Just to be absolutely disrespectful, Enjin balled up your discarded, soaked panties.

“Open up.” He squeezed your cheeks and your lips naturally puckered. You dropped your jaw with eager obedience. Enjin gagged you with your own wet panties.

He raised your hips and started up again. He slid a hand down the length of your spine leading your back to curve instinctively. Back deeply arched and hands restrained you were now forced to lean your weight and center of gravity forward onto your elbows, anchoring you to be ass up-face down. Greedy, leaking cunt fully spread and exposed. He gripped your hips, sultry nectar seeped from your core.

“Hold still and take it.”

He slammed into you and you buried your face into his coat. Enjin chased the ripples he created. He narrated every little thing your body did. Hypnotized, he admired the recoil as his V-line impacted your plump cheeks. He landed a punishing, loud spank onto the globes of your ass and squeezed the jiggle. Nails dug and left behind little crescents. “Fuck, look at this ass,”

Now fully anchored you could enjoy and just take it. Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! 

Eyes rolled to the back of your head. Face buried in his coat below. The window of the car door had fogged. Pheromones perfumed the air. Hot humid pants between you. Two souls desperate for one another. Souls that waited so long and thought they would never find this.

Images of you half dressed and left unsatisfied flashed through his mind. Left frustrated and disappointed. Who in their right mind could see this and not be addicted? 

His jaw fixed itself. Flashes of you having to finish yourself, alone in the dark. Redressing yourself and no one to hold you. Now with all your glory in his hands Enjin settled the thought that those ungrateful chicken fuckers could not, in fact, handle all this.

He groaned and swiveled his hips into you. He worshipped how your ass wobbled when he did. The way you crashed back onto his happy trail. He savored the feel of soft plush against all his hard lines. Smooth skin against his brutal and scarred flesh. 

Gagged whimpers danced in the air around him. The doe-eyed look on your face as he fucked you simple. He could catch glimpses when he hung over you. Nothing else behind those eyes other than just wanting to be good for him. So on top of everything your whole life. One of the smartest people he knew. Constantly needing your guard up everywhere you went.

You were wound tighter than a screw. He bullied your poor cunt and jostled all the rest of you for it. He fucked out your stress, worries, the crick in your neck. Leaving him with a pliant, puddle of a person. Enjin drilled into your divine cunt. Molten heat that molded around him. That sucked him back in greedily upon entries, and constricted stubbornly at his exits. “It's like she never wants to let me go!”

Soft cushion everywhere he squeezed that absorbed his force and withstood his bruising pace. Just to prove his own point he rained down harsh, bruising spanks in quick succession. The slaps of skin earned another song. You moaned like a whore, muffled by the soiled panties in your mouth.

Where he gripped delicate skin spilled between the gaps of his fingers. He grabbed fistfuls wherever he could just to admire the way your body quilted under his grasp.

“Shit, look at you, babygirl.” Downright disgraceful strings of your syrup practically drizzled out and slickened everything. His balls, his thighs, your thighs, his coat below.

You looked depraved. There was no one around for miles but if someone did look through the fogged windows you would not have cared. You were at this point shameless. Split wide open on the best cock you have ever had, mewling like a tramp, bruised up and blushing about it. Soiled panties gagging your mouth. Hazed eyes that admired the seatbelt restraining your wrists. Covered in cum, both yours and his.

“Elegant lady in front of everyone, innocent looking bookworm, nerdy professor… with the sluttiest, greediest cunt hidden under all those layers.” Enjin got so absolutely lost in your sauce he ended up drilling you through your orgasm and did not let up through his. Your connection to each other slathered with a mixture of your creams. So put together all the time but now you looked so damn sloppy. 

Debauched slaps of skin on skin echoed. Demeaning state of undress, completely exposed. Defiled skin, stung from bruising handprints. Degrading scent of sex, tobacco and him wafted through the air, threaded throughout the splayed coat. Depraved taste of your own arousal gagged on your tongue.

He smirked and tsk’d. “Now, now, this is most unbecoming of a lady.”

Some cross between a sweet moan and laughing was insulated by your gag. “What would–fuck, your great aunt Petunia, ah–or whoever say if she saw you like this?”

Jingling laughter shook you, he could see it in your shoulders that trembled. It caused you to unconsciously clench around him in little stuttered pulses. Enjin softly massaged the bruised skin, reverently. You shivered and fluttered around him. SMACK!

“I bet you pictured me ripping off all those layers?” His voice lowered. Enticing, predatory and vicious. Nevermind the wadded up undergarments in your mouth. Between your face buried in his coat and being fucked plain dumb you couldn’t reply even if you wanted to. So straitlaced and top buttoned.

“I bet whenever we fight if I reached beneath those panties, she’s crying for me isn’t she?” He gave a deep and dirty grind. “You can have as much as you want–whenever you want. When my pussy needs to get dicked down, you let me know.”

Commanding grip squeezed into your pillowed hips as he pulled you back onto him. Enjin smiled hypnotized as his thumbs dug into the fat of your cheeks and gave you your own matching pair of dimples.

“All you have to do is look me in the eye and tell me. Tell me my lady needs me.”

Enjin leaned over, sliding a hand up the length of you, and gripped your face. He pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at him and he could see your sorry state. Drool dribbled down your chin. You panted like a bitch in heat. You smiled when you saw his face towering over you. He was sort of upside down or parallel to you now. He was getting lower. He started rubbing his nose against yours, a mockingly sweet nuzzle.

“Tell me, Your Highness, when you want to be my pretty, little whore.” Enjin stopped abruptly when an idea struck him. “You know what I just realized?”

“Hm?” You hummed.

“Fair’s only fair. You marked your territory, would you like me to mark mine?” His voice was rasped and dangerous. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, nuzzling your nose against his in the process. Doting and docile. 

“Such a polite girl,” Enjin kissed you upside down, gagged with your own panties. You melted into him. Enjin withdrew from your kiss and, like a magician, he pulled your wet panties out in a long stream between his teeth. “Ta-da,”

He released your giggling face and unsheathed himself from your cunt. The world twirled as he flipped you flat on your back, your hands remained secured and stretched out. Enjin cradled your head in his hands as he straddled your shoulders. Rested atop your face was his cock. Monstrous and ambrosial, you felt his pulse on your skin. You smooched and suckled while he spoke.

“I’m going to tag you like a mural, baby.” He glided his tip over your lips before tapping. A person should always knock first before entering. You dropped your jaw instinctively.

His cock slid in. Enjin, attentive and caring, let you adjust, mindful not to gag you. His fingers earlier cleared and prepared the passage ahead. You eagerly hollowed your cheeks. Once he felt you weakly trying to bob against his grip, he went to Canvas Town.

Enjin, fully holstered down your throat, fucked your mouth like you were a toy. Mascara darkened tears trickled down your cheeks. Sweet, pouted lips wrapped around his instrument. Big, wet, doe eyes magnetized to your own drenched knickers dangling from Enjin’s teeth, framed cheekily between his dimples. He winked down at you.

You moaned as he dug into your mouth and the vibrations resonated into him. Enjin’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he groaned into a pained laugh.

You wanted to be ruined and he’d deliver. He had been right, you were bored of the cads in your novels now. Just like how the ground's liquor made the alcohol on the Sphere feel like water. Enjin made those dull rakes that ravished ladies, who ‘were not like other girls’, and all their heaving bosoms feel so tame.

He cradled your head, holding you in place, with hands so firm but safe. All while his snapping hips brutalized your throat. 

Schlick! Schlick! Schlick! Schlick! 

Your hot, loving, swirling, breathtaking mouth made him lose his damn mind. He had to relinquish the hold one of his hands had on you. With Enjin being as tall as he was, the car’s ceiling being shorter than him and this position’s angle, he had to steady himself grabbing the ‘Oh Shit’ handle above the door to support his weight. It also just really fucking helped that it gave him something to crush right now too.

Enjin knew what you wanted, to cut loose and do everything that would have made you clutch your pearls the first day you two had met. Because you know what? The world didn’t end when you got drunk and listened to loud music. You didn’t magically stop being smart, nice, or worthy of respect just because you wanted to get piledrived into the mattress. You didn’t have to be put together, dignified and on your guard even when trying to make love. You didn’t have to be perfect.

When he felt himself about to burst, it took all his will to pull out. He took himself in his hand and worked his wrist furiously. After a few desperate, panting, moaning–he moaned so prettily. Why don’t men vocalize like this all the time? Number one perk of falling for the world’s most annoying, incessant yapper.

“Eyes closed, hon.” He whispered. “Mouth ope–ah ah!”

Enjin spilled in his hand and painted you. He thought there would be less considering this not being his first orgasm of the night but he was happily surprised. He breathed heavy, watched the ropes paint your face, leaving a taste on your tongue. He slapped his heavy length across that pretty mouth and smeared his cum.

You sighed. He could see years of pent up tension release. He rested back on his haunches and you both panted together. He looked down and caught you gulping whatever cum had landed in your mouth. Your pretty tongue came out and licked around your lips. Swiped up and savored the taste of what you could reach. You were going to be the death of him.

“You havin’ fun, ma?” He wiped a teary rivulet on your cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, please don’t stop.” Your voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. Only natural after the workout he had put your throat through. You were beaming, such a joyful and sweet expression contrasting to such a vulgar and lewd visual.

“As you wish, milady.” Such a tender exchange in regards to such disgraceful behavior. 

He repositioned himself back at your hips, widened his stance and turned you on your side, your wrists still bound and arms still out stretched in front of you. Lifting your leg, Enjin draped your ankle over his shoulder. He turned his head, planted a tender kiss against your ankle beside his ear before hanging your panties off it. Enjin bottomed out at a delicious new angle. Seeing the confused and curious daze in your eyes, he knew you already had questions you couldn’t vocalize.

“It's called the praying mantis position, sweet girl.” A tattooed arm wrapped around your leg, his hand squeezed your thigh. He held onto you and began snapping his hips again. “And it's really nice for…”

He trailed off. Deeply penetrative, you began keening as the angle allowed him to hit that sweet spot inside from earlier purposefully.

“En-jhin!”

“There she is!” You were his now. His beautiful nag, his sexy genius, his permanent poker partner. His best friend, his better half, his old lady. He was entranced, watching you move.

You just wanted passion, love, drive. What was so wrong about wanting friends, a home, a dream? A lover that liked all of you, fucked you how you liked. His eyes trailed down to your weak fist. The hand that used to wear a ring. Desperate, small and punctured pants escaped you as Enjin unconsciously did quick consecutive hammers. His mind, broken, could only think in short bursts and half thoughts.

You’re alive. You jumped. You jumped right into his arms. He caught you. He’ll always catch you. Endless praise and compliments poured from Enjin’s mouth like a stream.

“Shit, right there,”

“So… fuckin’... pretty!”

“Take it, you can do another. This slutty pussy deserves another.”

“One more–you deserve one more…”

“Fuck, Your Highness… I… I…”

A vulgar, creamy ring had formed around his base. A cocktail of your syrup and his cum drooled through the edges of your opening from overflow. Splashed and popped against his blonde happy trail.

The only thing that could possibly break him from this spell was the look in your eye. You turned your head, a weak attempt to look up at him over your shoulder. Eyes filled with adoration as you watched him take care of you like you always wanted. Enjin could practically see little hearts in your eyes and his own chest stuttered.

“Fuuuck, those eyes baby.” He let out a pained laugh.

It was the conundrum of his dreams. Having a girl whose body was built for backshots but her face was made for missionary. His cup truly runneth over. Whatever shall he do? He gave a final, hearty slam before finding the will to pause. You whimpered and unsuccessfully tried to wiggle against him.

“I know, I know, shush.” He hushed, his mouth murmured into your leg that he was loving on, before leaning in closer. 

He unwrapped the binding around your wrists. Gracelessly, he just let go as soon as you were unbound, letting the seatbelt fully retract against the door. It clattered loudly above your head but he didn’t pay any mind. Enjin rubbed the indent marks left on your skin. Free now, he patted you on the hip and turned you over. You were boneless in his arms, fully on your back. He whispered everything he said, raspy and rumbling, into your ear. 

“Lift your hips for me, Your Highness.” You complied with all his instructions. Inclined more towards hums and coos than actual words, fucked plain simple. There was nothing behind those eyes but him. You eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Let me see those eyes, pretty girl.” Enjin purposefully braced his forearms on either side of your head. Boxed in by solid, flexed inked. You cooed and threw your arms around him.

There was so much of him. All around you was just so much him. He kissed you and started sinking his hips into you again with deep rolls. In your past life you used to be so bored of lying on your back like this. But now, it was so nice because he was so handsome and so good.

It was usually so annoying how good he was but your inhibitions and pride were long gone. You drank him in. Strong jaw and high cheekbones. Sunrise eyes. His hairgel had disintegrated by this point, golden hair draped across his forehead. Did he get a haircut? His undercut was fresh and clean. Pierced ears that made him look so fine.

His broad, painted shoulders flexed, muscles visibly shifted below the surface. Giant hands resting on either side of your head. Massive body that blanketed you. Shoulder blades that looked and felt like they deserved wings. The deep rumble you felt beneath them when he groaned low in your ear. Tobacco and distant, faded cologne that comforted and soothed.

His smile. His smile. His smile. His smile. Dimples. Dimples. Dimples. Dimples.

He was so handsome. Foreheads pressed together. “Don’t stop looking at me, pretty girl.”

You drowned in molten sunlight. Nodding, you clawed down his back and along his corded arms. If he hadn’t told you to focus most likely you would have started mindlessly sucking on his shoulder, absorbed by his tattoos. Everything was so intimate in this position. All you could do was babble his name.

Enjin learned something then and there that he couldn’t have learned with anyone else in the world. Missionary raw after almost dying and in love slapped so much harder. He caught the word in his head as he rolled his hips. Searched your adoring eyes and knew.

He lifted his hands and unwound yours from around his body. Enjin laced his fingers through your own and held your hands pinned above your head as he rocked rhythmically into you. He watched your earrings tremble with each slam.

Makeup melted completely off, watery mascara and cum smeared all over, drool dribbling down your chin from kissbitten lips. Neck already blooming in hickeys, bitemarks littered everywhere. You looked like a wreck. You looked like a wild mess. You looked like… like…

A swell of calm washed over him and his eyes softened to reflect that. You looked like so many things. You looked like a grounder, the love of his life, his person. You looked beautiful. 

Above all, you looked like yourself.

By this point your walls fused around him and you would be easily convinced that you had melted together. Honestly you were already pretty sure you had. Your body was exhausted but so over the moon. All these sensations that had started to feel like myth after a certain point were now overflowing and you didn’t want to stop. Your mind half gone and sense completely checked out. 

“C’mon baby, last one I promise.” You lost count of how many last ones you were up to but he said he promised. Mind you, he promised all those other times as well, but you nodded anyway. Believing him anyhow.

‘I don’t argue with men that have dimples. Whatever you say, handsome.’

The rich, raspy bourbon laugh rumbled in your ear. Completely unaware that you said that last part outloud. Nerves alight and singing, another swell started rising. The ghosts of tremors from previous crashes hadn’t even finished fading yet. He could feel them in his strokes.

If you looked thoroughly fucked out, then your cunt was in shambles. Flooded with cum, both yours and his. If he swiveled his hips he could feel it stir inside. Thighs bathed in cream. Despite all that, your walls eagerly milked him. Bullied, brutalized and plowed, your cunt still cried for him. Sucked him into you, loud slurping and clapping sounds shamelessly rang out like the heavy bass from the club speakers.

Open and eager for him. Such a sloppy, shivering, good girl. Pussy completely surrendered. Finally having been treated right and taken care of. This sweet, chubby, ripe cunt was split wide open and begging, pleading, praying to be devoured, exploited, worshipped. You spasmed around him, reaching your peak and it broke Enjin. He held your hands tighter through it. Felt your orgasm rack through your body, system overloaded. 

You gave one more cry of his name and he was a weak man. Heat surged, thrumming from deep within, and he kissed you. Enjin spilled over the edge and drowned you in the last ropes of his cum which you greedily accepted. Rivulets streamed out the sides and ran down both of one another’s thighs.

He thrummed even after there was nothing left spilling out. You rode your highs and tremors out, basked in the afterglow, still kissing. Eventually you two collapsed, muscles loosening. Without removing himself just yet, he rolled over to not crush you and pulled you with him. Locked in his embrace, surrounded by black and red clouds. Your pretty face rose and fell on his chest and Enjin held you tight. You stayed like that, allowing your heartbeats to settle and your breathing to even out. Like being held by the eye of a storm.

The trash storm was long gone, the roiling long over but neither of you had noticed. You laid there grounding one another, reality cementing in. You were both alive and right here.

Eventually, Enjin got up first and fished out a canteen from the back to share. He helped you drink water and made sure you ate some ration he had from his pack. Nowhere near as out of it as before but still a bit giggly, he took care of you.

You were quiet together in this little world you had carved out. Sturdy, stalwart hands rubbed and soothed where it stung. His mean mouth now kissed where he left bruises and bites. He watched you, he couldn’t not watch you. He smiled softly to himself in the dark. The first time he looked into your eyes they looked at him with raw terror. Now they looked at him like he was a bastion of safety.

At some point, he wadded up his ruined coat and helped you clean up as best he could, ruining his tie in the process of doing so. Exhaustion claimed you first. He caught your spare lighter on the floor amongst the clothes. Brushed his fingers over your temple, heart strings tugged in his chest as he picked it up.

He opened the window, cool night air entered. Enjin had the best cigarette of his life, a cool breeze across his face, your head rested in his lap as you slept. 

Headquarters was very lively the following days after your return. Immediately you and Enjin were swamped with paperwork and reports. You tried to be as dignified as possible but the giant elephant of any room you entered were all the lovemarks and evidence of your night together splattered across your skin.

The same animated energy between you returned and Enjin was insufferable about it. You tried so hard to be professional but there wasn’t a single thing you could say till it all faded. Over your dead body would you give him the satisfaction in front of everyone either.

Despite acting like you hated it he knew better. He was proven right a few nights later when he walked by your library. Hush, loud conversation pouring through the cracked open door from girl’s night inside. The joyful, tipsy voices of you, Tomme and Semiu asking all about your business.

“He did whaaat with the seatbelt?”

“And what were you like during all this?”

“Lemme tell you, my hands were tied but my pearls were clutched!”

“And after that was when he–”

“Girl, that boy had us there and we might as well had been boxing with my fucking uvula!”

Headcannons & Requests Neteyam, Rotxo and Aonung are crushing on you Neteyam prompts based off pictures Aonung x reader with angel fang piercings Aonung with heatstroke x Metkayina healer reader Aonung doesn't think he was clear enough about his confession

Other Omatikaya Face Claims Na'vi Outfits / Clothing Aonung Images

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You straddle him now, your arms wrapping around his neck as his lips move from yours to the curve of your neck. His kisses grow more fervent, trailing along your collarbone, leaving a few faint marks, silently calming you as his.

Even though no one knows about your relationship, Ao’nung feels the need to stake his claim, to ward off the wandering eyes and flirtatious smiles of other men in the village. He’s tired of seeing his fellow clan members gawking at you, so he figured leaving hickeys will show them that your not searching for a lover.

While you and Ao’nung are having your heated make out session, running your hands through his curls as your head tilts back and breathy moans fill the air, a pair of envious eyes watches from the shadows.

Rilu, a young musician from the northern pods, stands hidden behind a cluster of boulders, his jaw tight and fists clenched. He’s harbored feelings for Ao’nung since they completed their Iknimaya [rites of passage], dreaming of courting the Olo’eyktan’s [clan leader’s] son. But when you arrived in Awa’atlu, all of Rilu’s hopes crumbled as Ao’nung’s attention turned solely to you. 

Now, as he watches the two of you lost in each other, jealousy and anger cloud his thoughts. The bitterness of rejection festers within him, twisting into resentment. You’ve taken what he believes should have been his, and he refuses to stand by and let it continue.

As your soft gasps and Ao’nung’s groans drift toward him, Rilu begins formulating a plan. A way to expose your relationship and drive a wedge between you because if he can’t have Ao’nung, then no one can.

—

Things are getting pretty heated between you and the Metkayina boy. His hands explore your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles into your skin before they drift lower, fingers tracing the edge of the waistband at your hips. His touch is careful but deliberate, testing boundaries he’s already aching to cross.

Just as he starts to tug at your loincloth, going to the base of your tail to loosen the strings, your hand closes gently around his wrists, stopping him in his tracks. “Ao’nung,” you whisper, your voice soft but steady. As much as you want your boyfriend to have his way with you in the sand, this isn’t the place to indulge in your sexual desires. You both must show restraint, at least until you have full privacy. “Not here. Someone could see.”

He exhales through his nose, frustration flickering in his eyes before it melts into understanding. Even though he wants to have his way with your body, place his tongue on your most precious areas, he knows that beach shore might not be the best place to have either of your bodies exposed, especially when a curious Na’vi could come around the corner and catch you two in the middle of a comprising position.

Ao’nung’s thumb rubs against the back of your hand, looking into your eyes with a newfound softness but still holding that lustful fire. “You’re right,” he murmurs, his tone low, intimate. Then, with a half-smile, he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours, as if he’s going to kiss you. “I don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine anyway.”

You feel your cheeks flush at the possessiveness in his voice. He isn’t harsh, but protective, reverent. It makes your heart warm. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your mouth, before helping you up from the sand.

You brush the grains from your thighs, the sand sticking to your skin due to your swim prior to sitting down. When your boyfriend sees you trying to get the sand off, he can’t help but lend a helping hand. His palm brushes the sand from your thighs and legs, allowing him to feel the smoothness of your skin.

His touch lingers longer than it should, fingers tracing over the curves of your hips and somehow making it to your ass, allowing him to give your flesh a soft squeeze.  A quiet laugh slips from your lips when his hands wander a bit lower than necessary, and he just grins, pretending innocence even as his fingers wander your skin. 

Once the sand is no longer sticking to your skin, Ao’nung grabs your hand, leading you to the main part of the island. His touch is tender but possessive, protective in a way that sends a warmth curling through you. When his fingers slide down to your palm, he intertwines them with yours, his grip firm, steady, keeping you right by his side.

Together, you walk along the outskirts of the village, towards the cluster of marui pods, your shadows merging beneath the moonlight. Every so often, he leans close, whispering something low against your ear, something teasing and that makes your pulse race.

You laugh softly, nudging him, the playful spark in his eyes tempered by affection. You don’t let him have all the fun, you paint him naughty illustrations with your words, allowing his mind to picture what dirty things you’ll be doing to his body once you get him inside his mauri.

The teasing between you turns quieter the closer you draw to the marui pods, laughter fading into soft breaths. The air feels different here, thicker, heavy with things unsaid. Every brush of your hand against his, every whisper exchanged, seems to spark a fire beneath your skin.

Your tone dips low, sultry, full of promises you don’t have to speak aloud. The sound of your voice wraps around Ao’nung like a current, each word tugging him deeper into your orbit of sexual desire. 

His pulse thrums at the base of his throat, his focus narrowing until the world shrinks to nothing but you: your scent, your warmth, the way your eyes hold his as if you’re daring him to lose control. 

He doesn’t speak. He only looks at you, that deep, steady gaze that says everything he’s feeling but won’t yet give in to. The tension between you hums like a taut string, ready to snap at any second.

When you’re only a few strides from Ao’nung’s marui, the evening air still humming with the electricity between you and Ao’nung, a shadow suddenly cuts across your path. 

Rilu steps out in front of you, his stance tense and deliberate. You stop short, startled, and instinctively slip your hand free from Ao’nung’s before anyone else can notice. The motion feels like a small betrayal, but it’s meant to protect what the two of you share, something that’s precious in its secrecy.

“Rilu,” you say, your voice edged with irritation, trying to figure why he so rudely cut you off. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes move over you slowly, filled with disdain that makes your skin crawl. You can feel Ao’nung stiffen beside you, his presence a steady weight, silent but alert.

Rilu eyes trail your body before turning his head to face your boyfriend. Deep down Rilu thinks you're an attractive woman, he can see why Ao’nung chose you as a lover but his hate for you still runs deep. 

Watching the two of you so close, seeing the way you were all over each other at the beach, and the love Ao’nung has for you makes him angry. 

There’s something venomous in his stare, clear that his jealousy has sharpened into hatred. “So it’s true,” he spits. “You’ve lowered yourself to her.” His eyes focus on the brows that frame your face, then fall to your five-fingered hand that’s hanging by your side, looking at your features with disgust. “How could you be with this demon? Someone who isn’t even a true Na’vi?!” 

Your breath catches in your throat at his words: harsh, cutting, and dripping with venom. You’ve heard whispers before, felt the sideways glances and quiet disapproval from some Metkayina in the clan about you and your siblings who don’t appear as full Na’vi, but no one has been bold enough to say it to your face. Not like this.

Ao’nung’s body tenses beside you, the shift in his posture immediate and dangerous. His tail flicks once behind him, slow and deliberate, as if it’s a warning. “Watch your tongue,” he says evenly, his voice low and steady, but beneath it lies a threat sharp enough to cut.

Rilu lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Oh, you can defend her all you want, Ao’nung, but everyone can see it. You bring nothing but shame to the clan!” He steps closer, his voice growing louder, echoing off the woven walls of nearby marui's. “Do you truly want to mate and be bonded to her forever?!”

You can feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, each of his words feeling like stones in your heart. Shame prickles beneath your skin even as fury begins to boil in your chest. You’ve tried so hard to prove yourself, to show the Metkayina that you belong, that you are worthy to live amongst them but here Rilu stands, trying to rip all of that away with his cruel words.

You’ve been known to have issues with your temper, something you get from your mother and with Rilu yelling such hateful things, it’s only provoking that side of you to arise. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” you growl, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “You don’t get to speak on things you don’t understand.”

Rilu’s lip curls into a mocking grin. “Oh, but I do understand. I see it every time you walk by. You think you fit in here, but you never will. You’re not one of us and you never will.” His eyes dart to your hand, your five fingers flexing in frustration. “You can hide behind our ways, our clan, but you’ll always be different. You’ll always be a freak.”

The air leaves your lungs in a sharp exhale. Your ears flatten, tail lashing behind you as you take a threatening step forward. “Say that again,” you hiss, your voice low and trembling with fury, your hands dying to punch him into a bloody pulp.

Rilu’s eyes flicker with satisfaction, having you right where he wants you. This is exactly what he wanted, to take you out of your element, to show the ugly sides of you so Ao’nung wont want to be with you any longer. “Go on then,” he taunts, stepping closer, flashing a mischievous smile. “Show everyone what you really are. An angry little half-breed who doesn’t know her place.”

That’s when the snarl breaks from your throat: raw, feral, unrestrained. Your body shifts forward instinctively, your fangs making an appearance with your tail thrashing behind you. You lunge forward, balling your fist to place across his face, but before you can reach him, Ao’nung’s arm shoots out, palm pressing firmly against your stomach, holding you back as his body shifts forward like a barrier between you and Rilu. 

You snap your head toward him, wondering why he stopped you. When you look into his eyes you notice the sharpness in them, the kind that can silence a crowd. Ao’nung knows you can handle the situation on your own, you’re a strong and powerful woman who isn’t afraid to speak her mind, but as your boyfriend he wants— no needs to protect you, emotionally and physically. What kind of future mate would he be if he wouldn’t?

“Syulang [flower], I got this.” Ao’nung murmurs, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear.  His tone is soft, but the weight behind it leaves no room for argument, despite you wanting to give him one. Your brows knit together, confusion flickering across your face. You want to fight back, every muscle in your body screams to let your anger loose, to make Rilu eat the words he so carelessly threw at you. You want him to bleed for them. 

But then Ao’nung meets your gaze. His cerulean eyes, usually warm and teasing, have hardened into something fierce and unyielding. The look he gives you isn’t a question, it’s a command, quiet but firm. ‘Trust me.’, the words his looks translate to. 

You know that Ao’nung would always protect you, he would never allow someone to harm you or say mean things toward you without facing consequences. So you swallow your defiance, though it burns in your throat, and take a small step back behind him. You can’t help the glare you level at Rilu, your tail twitching with restrained rage, but you allow Ao’nung to take the lead.

He steps forward slowly, each of his movements strategic and deliberate. His broad frame blocks Rilu’s view of you entirely and when he stops, they’re nearly chest to chest, Ao’nung’s hand lifting just enough to press a single finger to Rilu’s sternum. His voice, when it comes, is low and controlled, but it vibrates with authority. “I need you to respect her, Rilu.” he says sternly, holding back a growl. “Watch your tongue when it comes to her.”  

There’s no shouting, no wild aggression, just that calm, dangerous tone of a man who knows the power he holds and doesn’t need to prove it. Even without raising his voice, the air between them crackles with tension. As future Olo’eyktan [clan leader], he knows how to make his words powerful without presenting as aggressive, plus he doesn’t want to get into an altercation with a fellow villager, unless he feels forced to.

Hearing Ao’nung speak up for you only fuels the bitterness burning in Rilu’s chest. His lips curl into a sneer as he takes a step closer, his words dripping with venom. “Oh, I see how it is,” he hisses. “How would you feel if I told the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk [spiritual leader] about your little secret? Because I’m sure Ronal would love to know her precious son is fucking someone so pathetic, weak, and repulsive as her.” He spits the last word like poison, his voice rising, clearly wanting others nearby to hear. His goal is cruelly simple, to humiliate you, break you, and drive a wedge between you and Ao’nung. 

For a moment, Ao’nung stands completely still. You can see his jaw tighten, his chest rise and fall in shallow bursts. He’s trying, really trying, to do what his father has always taught him: to be composed, to think before he acts. But Rilu’s words cut too deep. The insult toward you, the woman he loves, the threat to expose the blossoming relationship you two share, it shatters every ounce of restraint he’s been holding onto.

A low, guttural growl builds in Ao’nung’s chest, deep and dangerous, vibrating through the air between them. His shoulders square, muscles tense, and for a brief heartbeat, the world feels like it’s holding its breath. Then, before Rilu can even blink and defend himself, Ao’nung’s fist connects with his face.

The impact is brutal. A sharp crack splits through the night, echoing over the sand. Rilu’s head snaps to the side, blood splattering across his cheek as he stumbles back. Shock flashes across his face, quickly replaced by fear. He’s never seen Ao’nung like this before. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes have quickly morphed into a less blue shade and turned black with fury.

Ao’nung steps forward again and lands another hit, harder this time, square across Rilu’s eye. The force sends him crashing down onto the sand, a choked grunt escaping his lips. Within a few moments, an angry red mark begins to bloom beneath his swelling eye.

You stand frozen for a moment, your heart racing. The air hums with tension, the only sounds the crash of distant waves and the ragged breaths tearing from Ao’nung’s chest. You don’t know what to do at first but you definitely aren’t going to step in. Whatever Ao’nung does to Rilu, he fully deserves.

Ao’nung steps over Rilu’s limp form, towering above him with a calm but dangerous satisfaction tugging at his core. The bruises blooming across Rilu’s face is a testament to what happens when someone crosses a line, especially when that line is you. His lips curl into a faint, satisfied smirk as he studies the damage he’s done, his bruised knuckles still flexing from the impact.

“Listen closely, kurkung [asshole],” Ao’nung says, his tone low and edged with steel as he crouches beside him. His voice is quiet, but it carries the weight of a threat that seeps into the air between them. “If I ever hear you speak my woman’s name again, I won’t be so merciful next time. Understand?”

Rilu’s breathing comes in ragged gasps, eyes wide as he nods quickly. “Y-yes, I understand.” he stammers, feeling the blood dripping from his nose, all the way down to his chest. Taking those forceful punches, feeling all of Ao’nung’s anger in his fists makes the musician feel like he’s seeing stars.

Ao’nung tilts his head, studying him for a moment, looking at the fear in his eyes, the tremble in his lips, and the pitiful way he clutches at his bruised face. Rilu had spat all that venom, called you names, acted bold in front of others and yet here he was, sprawled in the sand like a frightened child. 

The sight makes Ao’nung’s jaw tighten, a sharp look of disgust twisting his features. “You talk big when you think no one will put you in your place, but look at you now...” his voice is flat, precise, the kind of cruelty that leaves no space for comeback. “Patheic,” he mutters, his tone low and dripping with contempt. “Weak.” he adds, the single word a verdict rather than an insult. 

Then, softer but every bit as uncompromising, he finishes, letting one last threat roll off his tongue. “If anyone asks, you fought with another boy. You didn’t see me. You didn’t see her. If you mutter a word about our relationship to anyone, you will have more than just a few bruises and bloody nose, got it?” 

Rilu gives another frantic, one that’s shaky and reluctant, showing that he doesn’t want any more trouble. His eyes dart away, not trusting himself to meet Ao’nung’s, afraid that just looking at him would bring forth another punch. 

Ao’nung pats the boy’s chest before standing up, doing yet another gesture to humiliate him one last time. He steps back without another word, leaving Rilu to gather whatever dignity he can before slipping away. Rilu scrambles to his feet, barely keeping his balance as he stumbles away into the dark, sand clinging to his bruised skin while running home with his tail tucked between his legs.

You stand frozen, your pulse hammering in your ears as you take in the aftermath. The way Ao’nung’s chest rises and falls, his knuckles still red and raw, the simmering fury that lingers in his eyes. But beneath it all, you feel something else stirring deep inside you. The sight of him like this: fierce, protective, dominant, sends a shiver racing down your spine.

You love how soft and sweet Ao’nung is with you, how he caters to your every need, treats you like a delicate flower, and is always loving on you but seeing him in this assertive state is making you feel aroused in ways you didn’t know were possible. Watching him defend you, not allowing Rilu to belittle you and taking care of the issue himself, makes your body run hot.

He turns to you, that storm in his gaze softening the instant his eyes meets yours. Yet, your body still hums with the aftershock of what you’ve just witnessed. The tenderness you know so well still lives in him, but right now, it’s wrapped in something darker, something along the lines of possessive, commanding, and intoxicating.

Ao’nung walks toward you, his sea-salt scent wrapping around with each step closer he takes. Your pulse flutters at his nearness, your body warms from the sight of him, the smell of him floods your senses, making you feel a stir in your lower region. No matter what’s going on around you, the waves lapping against the shore, the night humming with distant life, all you can feel is him.

“Thank you for defending me,” you murmur, placing your hand on his chest, voice soft but still trembling with leftover adrenaline. “It was… sweet of you.” You know the risk he took, the kind of trouble that could come from his parents for doing what he did. And despite that, he defended your honor without a single hesitation. 

Ao’nung’s gaze softens, his anger ebbing away to something far more tender. “No need to thank me,” he says, his voice low and steady. “You’re my future mate. It’s my duty to protect you.” 

The words strike deep, flooding you with warmth. The way he says ‘future mate’, like a vow, makes your chest tighten. The way he crafts his words makes you want to physically melt. You can’t pry your eyes away from him; every inch of his expression is sincere, every heartbeat of his presence feels like gravity pulling you in. 

The sexual tension between you and him is at an all time high, it’s like you both are back in the same atmosphere from when you left your spot on the beach. Even though you and him are still upset about the Rilu situation, you can’t help your desire for each other.

A small smile tugs at your lips, a teasing spark flickering across your features. “Still,” you whisper, your tone playful but sultry, your words filled with double meaning. “I think you deserve to be thanked properly.”

Your palm wanders his upper frame, moving towards his arm until your fingertips find his tattoo. Your fingers glide over the intricate designs of his tattoo along his shoulder and bicep, slowly rubbing against his skin. 

His muscles tense beneath your touch, not from restraint, but from how sensual it feels. His eyes narrow slightly, confusion clearly written across his face, trying to read what’s running through your mind. “What kind of thank you?” 

You lean in, close enough that your breath mingles with his. “The kind only I can give,” you say, a mischievous lilt to your words. You thought the signals your sending were clear, that he would easily catch on to what you’re implying but when you see he’s still not understanding you decide to give him a hint he can’t miss.

You move your hand down his body until it reaches his loincloth, placing your fingers around the strings that are securing it around his waist and lightly tug on them before letting them go and moving your hand down a little further. 

Your hand travels further down his body, slowly running your hands along his his waist until you reach the outer band of his loincloth. Your fingertips play with the strings of his waistband, lightly tugging against but not with enough force to take them off. Once your done teasing, your hand travels lower but not with a sense of urgency, your purposely taking your time. 

Ao’nung is still confused and doesn’t understand your coded words until he feels the palm of your hand cusp his cock that’s restrained by the woven cloth, causing a small groan escape his lips from the sudden act. “Does that answer your question?” You ask, a lustful smile spreading across your face, already loving how he’s responding from such a simple touch.

Feeling your hand rub against his cock, feeling nimble fingers stroke the outline his cock is making against the woven material, finally helps things click in his brain and understand your earlier statement and he can’t help but smirk at how him getting into a little scuffle makes you horny.  He didn’t know a situation like this could arouse you, but he’s definitely making a mental note of it. Seems like I need to punch people for you more often.” He teases, his smirk widening at how his sweet girl finds violence as a turn on.

Hearing him tease, knowing how much he loves to joke, makes you playfully roll your eyes. As much as you enjoy going back and forth with him, tonight you aren't in the mood for that. You have some emotions you need to be fucked out of you and you can’t do that standing in the middle of the village.

You turn on your heels, walking along the sand until you reach the spongy pathways, swaying your hips enticingly with every step you take. “Come before I change my mind.” You say sternly, your tail flicking behind you while you stride to his dwelling. 

When Ao’nung hears your words, his teasing seizes. He knows how quickly your moods can change and he’s not giving this fire a chance to sizzle out. The Metkayina comes behind you, grabbing your hand and practically drags you to his marui, making you let out a soft giggle at the urgency in his steps. 

When you both walk inside his home, being greeted by the sound the ocean, he ties the entrance flap shut so no one in the surrounding area can see the lewd acts that are going to take place. Once it’s secure, he makes his over to where you are, standing beside his makeshift bed.

“Lay down.” You command, placing your hand on his chest and pushing him backwards onto his spongy mattress, not giving him any room to do anything other than what you say. Ao’nung wordlessly obeys, laying flat onto his bed, legs a few inches apart, giving you enough room to do whatever your planning in your mind. 

You crawl into bed with him, hovering over his chiseled physique, placing your hand on his chest before leaning over and crashing your lips into his. His lips instantly return the kiss, moving in a synchronized rhythm against yours which allows you to slip your tongue in his mouth, exploring every corner of it. 

Your tongues begin to swirl around each other, slowly fighting the other for dominance, eliciting moans from both parties. Kissing Ao’nung is one of the easiest things on Pandora. With you and him being so in tune with each other, it makes things much more fun and exciting, especially when you both match each other's level of freakiness.

When you and him pull apart, allowing each other a moment to breathe, a line of saliva keeps you and him connected until you break it, needing your mouth so you can show attention to the rest of his body. You scoot down and begin to leave trails of wet kisses along his teal skin, starting from his collarbone and slowly making your way down to his waistline. 

Each time you tease a part of his body, trailing your fingers along his abdomen, gliding your warm tongue along his v-line, Ao’nung can feel his cock twitch in his loincloth. Your eyes settle on his aching bulge, desperately wanting to escape their restraints. 

Deciding to end his torture, you pull at the strings of his loincloth, causing the woven material to rub against his aching tip, causing a groan to fly from his lips. No matter how many times you and Ao’nung engage in sexual acts, you always manage to make him feel nervous, which is why the Metkayina places his hands over his face as if they’re a shield. 

“Don’t get shy on me, baby.” You whisper while leaning forward, pulling his hand from over his features so you can see his face. “I wanna see you.” Despite Ao’nung’s tough exterior, he always gets soft and gentle when it comes to you. Maybe it’s because you and him are similar in more ways than you would like to admit, or it’s because you give him the chance to put his guards down and be himself. Either way, you love this side of him.

Once your fingers are down fumbling with the strings of his loincloth, his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach before resting against his thigh. “I-I’m not being shy.” He manages to stutter out, noticing how your eyes study him like a Tsurak [Skimwing] watching it’s prey. If the harshness of your lustful gaze wasn't enough to make Ao’nung crumble, what happens next definitely does. You take a hold of his shaft and drag his throbbing tip against your plump lips, allowing them to become coated with his sticky pre-cum. 

“Then prove it.” You say with a wicked smile, deciding to turn up the heat and bring Ao’nung out of his shell. Before your boyfriend has an opportunity to reply, you part your lips, placing your warm mouth around his pinkish tip, allowing your tongue to glide over his slit. You look up at him and the sight of his flustered face and knitted hairless brows, along with the sweet sound of his mewls hitting your ears makes your cunt clench desperately, wanting nothing more than Ao’nung to relentlessly pound into your womb, but before that can take place you want to make sure he’s pleased first.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans suddenly, words and sounds begin to eject from his throat like a spear piercing through the crisp air. The way you work your tongue around his cock is magical, you have an effect on him that no other woman on this island has.

Around everyone else he’s filled with dominance and authority, but with you hollowing your cheeks, taking as much of him in your mouth as possible and pumping the rest of his cock, makes all that falter to allow his submissive side to arise.

Ao’nung’s cock is stretching your mouth, his tip hitting the uvula every time you lower your head, causing you to moan around him, sending a shock wave through your partner. After sucking for a while you come up for air, lines of saliva falling onto your dainty feather top, while your lungs begin to expand.

Once your ready to start again, you spit on his cock, allowing it to glaze his shaft before stroking his cock, giving it a few firm pumps before kissing his tip and taking him in your mouth like a pro.

The combination of your movements: you slurping his cock while stroking his base, making sure every inch  of him is being pleasured, makes Ao’nung hips spasm, forcing him deeper down your throat. You place your hands on his thighs, feeling them quiver, a sign that you’ve found the sensitive spot that’ll take him to his peak.

To coax his climax out of him, you decide to change your position. You lower yourself and place an arch in your back and perch your ass in the air, giving him the perfect view of it. 

With one of your hands secure on his thighs for stability, your head begins to bob at an agonizing pace, hallowing your cheeks and blowing a few spit bubbles in the process, while your free hand you begin to caress his balls, massaging them at slow to medium pace, wanting to add to his stimulation so you can milk them dry later.

“Oh my- shit, this –ugh– feels so– good, syulang [flower].” He whimpers with his eyes screwed shut, tangling his hands in your hair and wrapping them around the base of your kuru [neural queue], adjusting his fingers to get a good grip before he begins thrusting himself into your throat, bullying his cock into the depths of your open throat. 

You begin to breathe through your nose, relaxing your muscles so you could perfectly take all of him, wanting to all ten inches of him to perfectly settle inside the warmth of your mouth, pushing him further and further towards the edge of great release. 

Soon, his whimpers and moans turn into him mindlessly blabbering, his brain turns foggy from the overwhelming amount of pleasure surging through his body, especially when he feels your tongue grazing the underside of his cock, the moist tip pressing against his prominent veins. 

As he watches your eyes fill with tears and run down your cheeks from the force of his thrusts, hearing the enticing sound of you gagging around his throbbing cock, and seeing the small spit bubbles forming on the corners of your mouth, along with your moans and whimpers that make his body shudder, his orgasm comes full force.

“Mmm, fu-fuck, m’cumming!” He rocks his hips, forcing your head further down onto him, making your nose press against his groin, making it harder for your lungs to expand for air but in the moment you don’t care.

The sensation of him roughly fucking your face, using your throat as his personal cum dump, makes you clench your plush thighs, rubbing them rigorously against each other to create some friction against your sensitive clit. 

You love when he got this way, forcefully making an effort to plant his seed down your throat, it’s one of your favorite positions to be in.

You begin to hum on his cock, giving his body yet another reason to spill his seed, making his cock begin to twitch in your mouth. His legs start trembling while his breathing becomes shallow, and multiple rounds of praise shot through his lips, telling you how good you are at taking his big cock down your throat. 

His abs begin to tense, his balls spasm, and soon his thrusts become sloppy. With a few more moments of hallowing your cheeks, moaning around him, and giving his balls  one tight squeeze, Ao’nung allows a sharp moan to fall from his lips and soon you feel a warm substance. 

Thick ropes of his milky cum spurt into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, while the rest settles on your palate. Feeling his seed settle on your tongue makes you moan, feeling a sort of joy thay stems from being able to sexually satisfy your future mate.

Once he’s giving you all he has, you swallow every droplet of his tasty seed before pulling him out of your mouth, resulting in lines of saliva dripping onto your hand. You tap his cock onto your tongue, making sure every ounce of his cum was released and once your positive you stick out your tongue, showing him that you swallowed every drop like the good girl you are.

When you flash Ao’nung a proud smile, he wraps his hand around your throat and pulls you toward him, his eyes looking down at you in a fucked out state, feeling like his soul has been snatched from his body. Once your face is leveled with his, he sloppily kisses you, tasting bits of himself on your lips and tongue but he could honestly care less. “That was fuckin’ amazing.”

“Thank you.” You whisper while a purple hue begins to form along your cheeks, feeling your face warm with Ao’nung’s lustful gaze watching you. “I just wanted to thank you for punching that shxawng [idiot] for me.” While the words fall from your lips, you can feel a change shifting in the air, as if the energy is quickly changing into another form.

"I would punch anyone for you." Ao'nung doesn't feel any guilt for what he did. He would punch anyone if it meant protecting you and your peace. While he speaks, his hands run down your back, reaching the base of your tail and untying the strings of your damped loincloth. Once it comes apart he flings it across the room since its services will no longer be required. 

He wraps his arm tightly around your waist and in one swift movement, switches your position so your back is against the mattress and he’s hovering over your petite frame. His pupil-blown eyes trail down your body, captivated by each and every curve he’s grown to love, his hand grazing over the valley of your breasts down to the roundness of your hips, making your breath hitch. 

Ao’nung gives you a look, one that expresses him asking for permission before going any further and once you give him the green light, a devilish smile spreads across his lips, ready to return the favor of immense pleasure. He pries your legs open, lifting one of them and placing it over his shoulder before grabbing his cock and sliding inside of your wetness, making a moanful gasp leave your lips, feeling his girth stretch your tight walls open nice and wide. 

Ao’nung allows you a few moments to adjust before increasing his speed, making your head fall back in pleasure, feeling your body transforming into a state of an elated high only he can provide. Now it’s Ao’nung’s time to reward you, and he doesn’t plan on letting you go until the sun comes up.

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He hadn’t.

Even now, you sit on the edge of his bed, staring at him with coy eyes from the doorway, and he keeps his hands at his sides. Nothing but the lacy bra and underwear he’s sure you wore just for this. It hugs your breasts perfectly, plump flesh spilling from the material.

Sitting there, waiting, on his bed. All parts divine perched on a silver platter for him to feast on, dig his claws and teeth in.

Still, he’s hesitant, tensing his jaw so his canines don’t scare you as he approaches. He’s not sure how he got here, not sure how you got there—some miracle of sorts.

His hand swallows your neck, thumb tickling your scent gland when he pushes his way between your thighs. He sees your chest constrict with a deep breath, watches the way your eyes become lidded from one swipe. The bite’s still there, not quite faded. His alpha snarls, he still hasn’t grown accustomed to the sight of it, especially when you’re naked and about to be tangled in his sheets, wrapped around his knot.

You’ve already told him it’s been forever, warned him about triggering your heat. It’s at the back of his mind, tucked right next to the trauma of your previous mate. It’s part of why he’s behaved, Clementine aside. Afraid his alpha might act too brazen, decide to devour you whole like your previous mate, like who he used to be.

It’s why he’s given in small doses.

He ignores the fact that it feels as if his claws are sprouting from his fingertips, ignores the way his jaw feels so fucking heavy and the only way it’ll lighten is if he buries his teeth in your neck. Make you bleed red as his.

It’s not your heat, but by god does the room smell like it is. Your jasmine is so thick he’s not sure how he’s managed to keep his alpha on a leash thus far. It’s raw from the source, straight from the tap, unconfined by your omega.

He smells the slick in your panties, heady jasmine, and creamy vanilla. So much more enticing than before. There’s still apprehension, sweet smell burnt around the edges. The aggressive alpha in him likes it that much more, mouth watering just to get one fucking taste.

“Pretty omega.”

He says it without a curl to his words, soft and tender, because he fucking means it. You take a sharp breath, hand coiling around his wrist on your neck.

He presses a peck to your lips, just wants a small taste before his main course, licks his lips when you chase after him with a soft noise. He hovers, thumb tracing against the jut of your jaw, your cheek, knuckles down your neck, like he’s memorizing each curve. Staring at you with something in his eyes you can’t quite pinpoint.

He can hear your heartbeat in your chest, feels it patter under the pad of his thumb.

“You nervous?”

That breaks a small smile across your lips. “You can smell me.”

This time you mean it.

And fuck— do you smell good.

He nudges your head gently with his nose until he finds the source of your sweet scent and inhales deep, smothering himself in your smell, mind hazy with nothing but you. Rubbing his own scent on it, claiming, like he’s hypnotized by the fusing of the two scents, hopes to stain it to the back of his throat, so he’ll never fucking forget it.

“Tell me, Miss. Librarian,” His lips brush your scent gland, laves his tongue against the sensitive skin between words because he can’t resist, “Why are you so nervous?”

“Well— I know you,” You pause, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s from the way he sucks your scent gland between his teeth or the needy sound you make between breaths. “Probably um.”

When he pulls back, you gesture to his pelvis.

He tries his best to hide his smirk, “Have a big dick?”

You nod quickly, struggling to hold his gaze when there’s embarrassment burning your neck and chest, tongue heavy in your mouth because you don’t quite have the strength to speak. You gasp when he lifts you easily by your hips, resting you against the pillows, adjusting himself between your thighs, trapped under his weight, mouth at your ear.

“I do, baby.”

His voice, low and smooth, rolls chills down your spine, settles thick in your core when he grinds against your cunt for emphasis, presses a wet stamp to the back of your ear, greedy hands exploring the expanse of your body, squeezing and kneading any supple flesh he can find purchase on.

“But that’s okay, isn’t it?”

A wet stamp to the curve of your neck, scraping his teeth ever so lightly against your gland, makes you arch, scratching at his back because you fucking want it just as much as he does.

“Just gotta make sure to stretch ya reallll nice f’me.” He drags the end of his words, popping your breasts free from your bra.

A wet stamp on your sternum, sucking each nipple in his mouth so there’s a shiny ring of saliva around them, makes you mewl quietly as the cold air stings them.

“Make it fit.”

His eyes flicker to yours from between your legs, he’s sure he looks like a predator hunched over its prey, eyes dark and hooded. He’s sure it makes your omega turn with delight, begging to roll over and present to your alpha, show him how good a prized prey you could be. It makes his alpha rumble, watching you fidget nervously because of him, because of what he could do to you. Rip you to shreds.

He won’t. Though, the primal urges of his alpha want to make you submit to him, scruff your nape so you bend for his will, mount you and just fucking claim you with his fat knot.

He doesn’t have to do any of that, your instincts handed your acquiescence over to him long ago, bared your neck for him to bite, batted your pretty lashes as you stared up at him, begging him for more.

“It’s just been a long time.” You breathe it out like it’s strained, throat collapsed with nerves.

He peels your underwear off, ignoring the way your slick gobs a thick string when the material is pulled away, so he can focus on your words. Ignores the way your poor pussy looks like it’s weeping for him, hole winking, swollen and drenched, hasn’t ever been properly touched, especially not by your old mate.

He’ll show you. Show you how an omega should be treated. How he treats his omega.

He spreads your glistening pussy open, swipes his thumb through your folds, slowly, before he can even think about responding, collecting your slick and popping it in his mouth, sucking the sweet flavor right off.

You fist the sheets in anticipation, silently watching him with parted lips as he tastes you for the first time like he might not like it. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, the man growls possessively around his digit, teeth pinching the pad of his thumb like it might draw more of your flavor.

When he finally opens his eyes, he looks like a completely different person, eyes dilated and wild, gone. Alpha in control.

“Don’t worry.” It’s vibrated from his chest, tone unfamiliar. “I take care of what’s mine.”

You have one second to take a breath before his tongue is in your cunt. One full swoop to flood his mouth with your essence, nose snug against your clit as he laps at your entrance. His alpha demands more, a hunger so insatiable that it orders him to feast.

The whine you make causes a scalding heat to spindle through his back, makes him hunch deeper into your pussy like a man starved, meaty paws pushing your knees to your chest, so your pussy is on display for him. He licks between your folds like it’s a delicacy, shifting between enjoying the moment, eyes closed, and letting your taste melt between his teeth and down his throat, groaning beastly from the pleasure of finally tasting you, to ripping his eyes open to watch your pretty face.

His mouth maps shapes against your clit, sucking and working you open with a intense fervor. The aphrodisiac to his pain the slick that gushes out of you, the frantic keens that spill from your lips. It fuels his hunger, deeper so.

He’s not entirely sure how you’ve managed to keep your glasses on thus far but they hang on the edge of your nose, foggy from your pants. He likes it, a little too much, laps against your clit that much more eagerly, smoothing his tongue drenched. The look you wear is precious, like he’s being unfair, cruel even, when he suctions your clit between his lips something fierce.

You weakly push at his shoulders, fingers clawing at his scalp as you squirm, stuttering how it’s too much, but it’s gone straight to his head, a little too greedy to stop now.

Your arousal’s dripping down his chin, smeared on his nose and lips, but he keeps diving in for more. Like it isn’t enough to be covered in your slick, your scent staining his skin, your taste permanent on his tongue. So everyone can smell your cum on his face, know he had his face encased in your thighs, know he had his pretty omega finishing on his tongue.

You kick your legs out when he replaces his mouth with his finger, whining a protest at the sudden stretch. A brawny arm holds you down, biting the inside of your thigh in retaliation, a deep growl spilling from his throat.

He won’t let you get away that easily. His alpha likes the chase.

There are teeth indents on your thigh when he pulls away, something possessive roars in his chest at the sight— his mark on your flesh.

“Be sweet f’me now okay, baby?” A second finger pushes through your walls. “Don’t you want my knot?”

You stare down at him wide-eyed, a high-pitched whine coming from your lips as you frantically nod.

The moment goes by in a bit of a blur, fucking his thick fingers into your pussy expertly, noises so obscene for such a sweet librarian. Especially when he curls them, thumb circling your clit in tandem, and you mewl, rocking your hips back against his palm. Your a mess, but he’s anything but uncoordinated, deliberate and controlled strokes.

He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing it to your chest, so he can crash his lips to yours. It’s sloppy, tongues smearing together, pressed to the roofs of mouths, and lips bitten swollen all while he’s got his fingers buried in your cunt, working the fire thumping in your core.

“D’ya taste that?”

When he pulls away theres a wet pop, lips glistening with his saliva. It’s a bit lewd, swapping the remnants of your slick from his mouth.

You bob your head, “Yeah.”

“That’s all you. All my omega.”

Your pussy flutters around his fingers.

He smirks, face hovering so close he takes all your air and makes it his own. “Oh? You like how you taste, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, ashamed, as he watches the embarrassment he’s teased form on your face.

He huffs a laugh, scissors his fingers, spreading your spongy walls, a bit impatient as his cock aches in his boxers. You take it so well until you can’t anymore, overwhelmed by the sensation of everything and not enough at the same time, pushing at the wrist against your mound.

“Want your knot, Simon.” Your voice sends a throb straight to the head of his cock, soft and broken, pleading so sweetly.

He has to grit his teeth, keep from filling you in one go. He was never a patient man to begin with.

When he frees his cock, slapping against your abdomen, tip reddened and angry, your eyes widen. He almost feels bad, it’s not like he didn’t tell you he was big, but he knows the sight of it makes you tense, wondering if you’ll be able to fit it all.

You will, he’ll make you.

He smears it along the ridges of your pussy, rutting his hips ever so slightly between your wet folds to cover himself in your warm slick. It doesn’t take long, you’re drenched, but you whine impatiently the whole time, pleasure jolting through your veins every time he brushes your clit.

When he finally, finally, slides his head in, you tense, mouth gaping, leg clamping at his shoulder.

“Jus’ the tip, sweetheart.”

His fingers are meant to soothe you, trace shapes into your sides, but it’s not his fault you’re a ticklish thing. You look at him like he’s the culprit when you squirm lower on his cock by accident, garbling a shocked moan.

The sound of your pussy popping over the head of his cock, the squelch of the slide almost sends him into overdrive. Stores it as one of his new favorite sounds, right up there next to his name on your lips.

It’s a lot— he knows it is, but you take it so well, mewling quietly into his ear with each new inch. The stretch wears you thin, head curled in the pillow at the agonizing pace he’s filling you at, breaths tight in your chest. You think it might be done, but he keeps pushing more and more in, deeper into your walls and you’re sure there’s no more room for him. He’s there, in your throat, kissing against your soft flesh, when he finally stops.

All his strength shatters into insignificant crumbs once he bottoms out, cock buried to the hilt. His breaths are shallow, holding on to any resemblance of control he had because you’re squeezing him so fucking tight. You look at him a little scared, squirming because he hasn’t even moved and it’s already too much, you already feel your chest collapse, choking on your breaths.

“Fuckin’ doin’ so well f’me, baby.” He surprises himself, didn’t think his voice would sound so steady wrapped around you. “Breathe f’me, sweetheart. Gotta relax”

If he wasn’t a strong man, he would’ve finished in you by now. Fill you with his spend and then fuck it back into you over and over again.

But he is a strong man, so all he does is grit his teeth and rut his hips, humming when he feels your chest fill with air and the warm breath cascade over his shoulders. Slowly grinding into your tight walls until all that’s left are his slurred praises pressed to your skin.

His fingers encase yours, tangling his hold into yours, held skintight at the side of your head, palm pressed to palm. It’s tender, all of it, right up to the fact that it seems as if your walls mold to him, like there was a Simon shaped outline.

Simon doesn’t believe in fate. Maybe in another life you and him would’ve had Clementine together, maybe he had to have Clementine to find you. Maybe in another life he would’ve been your mate, maybe you had to be betrayed to fall in love with him.

You’re his mate, there’s never been anyone else. He sees it in the pages of Fancy Nancy, reads it between the words of Corduroy. All the sweetest words bloom to life for you.

It’s slow, a steady grind that he gradually builds, pulls more of his cock out bit by bit before he fucks it back into you. And you stare at him like he’s got your heart in the palm of his hand, but it’s the complete opposite. You’ve netted your string around his heart weeks ago, pulled the lock of his alpha free.

A love he tried to deny himself. Told himself his heart was only big enough for Clementine. But there you are, peering up at him with your pretty eyes, curled in the shape of his heart. Told himself he was only soft for his mint, but there his hand rests, tangled in yours, squeezing your palm between every roll of his hips.

But there you were. Strung your way into his chest, made a home for yourself there, so it would ache when you weren’t there.

By the time he’s really thrusting into you, fat of his cock head bullying your cervix with precision because he can’t take it anymore, there’s a white ring around the base of his cock. It only gets thicker, you only clamp tighter around him with each new thrust, your thighs trembling either side of his hips, crying out everytime he angles his hips deeper.

“There we—fuck.” His head falls against your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to fight his forming knot.

Each time he opens his mouth with some new praise he wants to mumble, your pussy flutters around him, you moan a plea into his ear, and he stutters over his words like some virgin.

The drag of his hips feels delicious, the clench of your walls, silently begging for more, taking all that he has to offer is hypnotic.

He fucking loves it.

Plunging into your walls like he knows exactly how you like it.

He almost groans in agony because he can’t see the way your toes curl at his shoulder, or the way your brows tinge as the warmth of your impending orgasm turns fire hot, scorching a pain that burns so well you can’t take it anymore. His teeth at your scent gland sends you over the edge, biting hard enough it’ll leave a mark, but shallow enough it won’t form a bond. Reminiscent of what’s to come, not now, but soon.

Alpha.

You call him alpha in your daze, all soft and needy, eyes foggy and desperate.

It’s as if he sees red, bites his knuckle so hard it bleeds, so he won’t bury his canines in your neck. His knot pushes through your spongy walls as you arch your back, crying alpha like it’s the only word you know.

The coil in his core ruptures, vision practically blurring as he pumps his knot as deep as it’ll go before he growls around the copper blood of his knuckle, releasing his spend. His hips involuntarily jut forward with each spurt, finally filling you as his girl.

It’s a beat before he pulls his head from your neck, walls pulsing around his knot, daggers of pleasure clawing against his skin in the afterglow. You look a proper mess, hair disheveled, sweat down your cheeks, chest rising with deep breaths, looking all parts his omega.

He presses a peck to your temple, an action that has your chest coming alive, vibrating a deep contented purr. He smiles against your temple, nose brushing along your face as he purrs back, his sweet omega happy.

In the morning, when the both of you go to Uncle Johnny’s to pick up Clementine from her sleepover, she runs into your arms first, a painting in her hands.

She holds it up to the both of you, eagerly pulling both of your attention to the white paper.

“This one’s daddy.” She says, and it’s the same as her other painting, stick figure and all, black tattoos on his arms.

“This one’s Mint.” Her dress is purple this time, with a flower in her hair.

“And this one’s mommy!” She points to a third stick figure.

His chest tightens, saliva thickens in his mouth. There are tears in your eyes, a smile so wide he’s surprised they haven’t spilled over your cheeks. Johnny just sends the both of you a knowing smile.

He tacks it up over the old painting of just him and Mint. Complete.

note- Hi everyone! I just wanted to leave a little note to thank everyone for being so patient and understanding with the delay of this chapter. I fear most of you have lost interest in it, but I still wanted to complete it. Thank you for all support mwuahhhh!!! 🍊🤍

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