Hold my hair!

You shiver slightly when he comes into the office, shying away slightly and trying to be polite because your momma raised you with manners and it never pays to be rude to a man who beats people up for a living. 

Maybe that’s why he scares you. The intense silence as he watches you when you hand him the paperwork that he needs. The names of the people that have not paid back the loans, their addresses and where they work. Handed to him with an almost clinical professionalism that is in stark contrast to what he’s going to do with that information. 

“Hey, dollface.” He’s never rude. He’s actually always very polite when he comes up to your desk, shoving his hands into the pockets of the black leather jacket that seems like a part of his persona. Your eyes flicker up and you immediately tense slightly, shooting him a nervous smile. “Hey, Clint.” You hum, looking around for any papers that might have been laid on your desk to give him. You hadn’t been told about anything, but he normally never comes and seeks you out unless he needs something. “What’s up?” You ask as you search around. “Need something?”

“Whatareyou doin’ tonight?” His jaw is set, almost taunt as he stares at you. Waiting for you to answer almost impatiently. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and looks over his shoulder when something moves out of the corner of his eye. It’s just Leonardo, the cat that has more rights in this office than everyone else, jumping up onto the counter to drink from a random coffee cup that someone had left sitting there half empty. 

Your stomach twists and there is a heaviness that presses against your heart tonight. He must need a favor. Tonight of all nights. You sigh and shrug. “I- I don’t really have anything-”

Clint frowns, brows pulling together harshly and you break off the rest of your sentence and let it die. “Okay.” He turns and walks away from you, the bell over the door out of the office ringing as he pushes it open and leaves, making you stare after him in complete bewilderment, unsure of what the hell was going on. 

Leaving promptly at five o’clock can sound strange when you think about a criminal organization literally having 9-5 hours, but the little loan office is supposed to look legitimate. There are smaller loans, $100-200 that little old ladies borrow against their social security checks to pay for an unexpected expense, all legitimate and kept in a proper set of books in case the IRS comes poking around. They never do. 

You gather your purse, slide the ring for your keys onto your index finger as you walk to the door to shut off the lights. Everyone else had already left, just kind of disappearing like normal before the end of the day, assured that you would lock up like you do every night. Making you feel even more invisible as you lock the door with dissatisfaction over the day and wondering if picking up some take out could make it better. 

He’s leaning against your car. Watching you as you carefully lock the front door, tugging on the handle, just to make sure that it’s locked. Knowing that you might jump when you see him, but he waits anyway. The thing behind him something that might make you smile, or it might not, it all depends on if you like fucking roses or not.

It’s a horrible habit, but you walk to your car with your head down. Watching your feet as you count the steps to the compact little Ford you drive, hating yourself for the way your eyes are getting watery and knowing that you're going to have a good cry on the way home. Looking up at the last second before you need to stop in front of the door and jumping nearly a mile into the air when you see Clint Flood leaning against the front fender of your car. “Clint!” You gasp out and almost immediately look around to see if anyone else is nearby. 

“Easy, dollface.” He hates that he scared you, but he hadn’t wanted to call out, almost curious to know what caused that focus that blocked out the rest of the world. It was a dangerous thing for you to do, but he wasn’t here to lecture you. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” That’s true, he hadn’t, and he reaches behind his back to pull out the thing that he had left laying on the hood of the car. 

Roses, a beautiful bouquet of them, a dozen blood red, crisp roses are bound together with greenery and a pretty silver paper, with ribbons curling down from the bow, is in his hand as he draws it into view. Making your eyes widen in surprise, watery and beautiful, then confused as you try to understand. “I-”

“It’s your birthday today, right?” Clint asks, knowing that he hadn’t mixed up the date. It’s today, even if you hadn’t said a word to anyone. Even if no one had thought to say ‘Happy Birthday’ or bring in a cake. 

You stare at him for a moment, jaw slack and then back at the flowers. “It’s- these are for me?” You whisper quietly, hopeful in a way that makes his heart twist and his nervousness about doing this vanishes. 

“Of course they are.” He holds them out as he pushes upright off your car. Suddenly getting about four inches taller out of his slouch and moving closer to you in a gentle step. Careful not to make you jump again. “Every beautiful woman deserves beautiful flowers on her birthday.” 

You make a sound, soft and disbelieving as you slowly take the bouquet he is holding towards you. You gather them into your arms and cradle the fragrant, tender blooms and press your face into the flowers and close your eyes. Overwhelmed by someone remembering, someone caring. You had gone all day without anyone saying anything, thinking that it was just forgotten and pretending it was okay. That it didn’t matter. Adults didn’t need things like ‘Happy Birthday’ greetings and recognition. Except this completely calls you out for being the liar that you are. 

Clint watches you, not saying a word as you hug the flowers and breathe them in. Wondering if he should have done this earlier, but he hadn’t wanted to make you more nervous and he seems to do that easily enough. When you finally look up, he shoots you a small smile. “Come on, we’ll be late.” He tells you, almost laughing when your face clouds in confusion. 

He guides you over to his car, parked just on the other side of yours, and around to the passenger door. Opening it for you and waiting for you to climb in, turning and watching as you slowly walk closer. 

Late? What would you be late for? There was nothing planned, unless….he had asked about your plans earlier today. Did he have something planned now? With you? For you? A surprise? You don’t think that it’s something bad, not after giving you the most beautiful flowers that you’ve ever seen. You can tell he knows that you are confused but he doesn’t say anything, just waits and watches you with that same look that is always in his eyes when he looks at you. 

You get into his car. Part of him is surprised that you got in without any questions, the other part of him is relieved. He knows that he has to talk to you, to explain why, but it will be easier once he gets you to the restaurant. 

You interest him. In a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, in a way that he thought he might never feel again. Grace had made him feel that way, had been the love of his life, will always have a piece of his heart, but he feels something for you. He had wanted to ask you out, but the words hadn’t come. Grace had done the same kinds of things to him in the beginning before he relaxed and opened up to her. 

The drive is quick, he had chosen the place not too far away that he had heard you talking about in the office one day. The steakhouse with the good linens and candle light. The one that you had gushed over the food review in the paper talking about the best salmon they had ever eaten. The one you wanted to eat at but didn’t have a reason to go. Your birthday is obviously the best reason why you should go. 

The entire ride you are staring at the flowers, wondering why he got them for you. Not looking up until he pulls into a parking spot and you look out the windows. “Um, what are-” He doesn’t let you ask, putting the car into park and shutting off the engine as he answers. “Got reservations in ten minutes, dollface.” He says as he turns towards you. “You deserve to be taken out and celebrated.” 

For a long moment, he thinks you might refuse. You stare at him like he’s just spoken another language. One that you don’t understand. Stare at him before looking down at the flowers and then back up at him. “Reservation?” You ask and he nods. “Ten minutes.” He reminds you. “They said if we came early we could get a drink at the bar.” 

He had made reservations. He had planned this. You are confused but the way your heart is pounding, you don’t think it’s a bad thing. Butterflies swim in your stomach and you bite your lip as you look back down at the flowers. “Can I bring them inside?” You ask, not wanting to leave them behind. 

Clint chuckles softly and looks down at the blooms in question. “You can do whatever you want, dollface.” He promises. “It’s your night.” You bite your lip, something that he’s found adorable and even more so now. “Bring them in.” He says before he gets out of his car to round the front of it and open the door to let you get out. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide out, flowers still in your arms and almost floating along in a sense of disbelief as he guides you towards the building. His hand is hovering just above your lower back, not touching you, but you can practically feel the warmth. Making you shiver again slightly. 

There is fancy, almost overly ostentatious music flowing through speakers when Clint opens the front doors. There isn’t a dress code that requires him to take off the leather jacket, but the black slacks he’s wearing are rarely pulled out of his closet. He had pulled them out for you, for tonight. He doesn’t hesitate to walk up to the host stand and give his name.  

You can’t believe that he made reservations. That he is bringing you here based on a conversation you had with Tammy in the office a month ago. A wistful, daydreamy want that is now apparently coming true. It’s everything you imagined it to be, romantic with low lighting and flickering candles at each table. The crisp white linens are almost too fancy to touch, and the host even pulls out the chair for you to sit down. 

It’s after the drinks have been ordered and you have finally swapped the flowers for a menu that you look up at Clint with a curious frown on your face. “Why did you bring me here?” You ask softly, as if you are afraid of making him angry by asking. Clint looks up and closes the menu as he contemplates how to answer without scaring you. 

“It’s your birthday.” He reasons, but that just makes you frown a little more. “I-” he shrugs. “I wanted to do something nice. To treat you.” 

“Why?” You bite your lip again. “I mean, you don’t- we don’t really socialize.” You point out and he flashes a quick half smile before he shrugs again. “It’s hard to socialize when you seem scared of me most of the time.” 

Your stomach drops, and you hate that he had realized that you were nervous around him. You had fooled yourself into thinking that you were hiding it so well. Your hands tighten around the menu and you look down at it in embarrassment. 

“Hey, don’t-” Clint shakes his head, upset that he upset you. “I just- I wanted to do this. Because….I would like to get to know you.” He confesses softly, opening up for the first time since he had lost the woman who had meant everything to him. 

That makes you look up, eyes almost startled as they find his and you soften. Your shoulders seem to drop and relax and you shoot him a shy smile. “You do?” You ask, making him give you a smile of his own as the waiter brings the drinks and asks if you are ready to order. “I do.” 

You seem to really relax and settle into the dinner, asking him questions and answering his own, your guard dropping and he hears you laughing at his admittedly bad jokes. Acting like you are enjoying yourself and moaning over the salmon when you try it. Claiming that it is every bit as good as the food critic had claimed, even insisting on feeding him a bite from your own fork. It was good, for fish. Although it hadn’t beat the buttery steak he had ordered for himself. Offering to let you have a bite of it too since it was just good manners. Watching you carefully take the bite from him and smiling when your eyes slip closed with a groan of pleasure that hits him in the gut like a punch. 

He had ordered you cake. The piece was indulgent, double chocolate with ganache, a single candle in the top of it when it’s brought out. He doesn’t tease you when you nearly cry, just urges you to make a wish and smiles when you blow it out. It would seem like such a small thing to someone else, but it means so much to you. How much thought he had obviously put into tonight. Almost like it was a date.

You are quiet on the drive back to your car. Making him nervous as he grips the steering wheel and glances into his mirrors so he doesn’t look over at you for every few seconds. He doesn’t try to talk to you, letting the silence settle but it’s not a heavy silence. Just comfortable in a way it might have not been before tonight. 

“I- I had a great birthday.” You admit when you’ve opened your car door and set your purse and the flowers inside. Turning back and shooting him another smile. One that pulls him closer as he resists the urge to pull out that pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and light one up. Clint nods and takes another step towards you. “Better than your earlier plans?” He asks, making you laugh. “My plans were to eat take out and watch tv.” You snort, reaching out and patting his arm. 

Clint reaches for you slowly. Giving you time to pull back if you want to, but you don’t. You bite your lip and look up into his eyes. “Don’t know…” Clint murmurs, “that could be a good night.” He teases quietly. “With the right company.” 

Mr Miller looks at Jack and you take a deep breath, grateful for a respite from his hot stare.

“Speakin’ of anal, what’s the most important thing, son?”

“Consent.”

“Yes and..?”

“Prep.”

“Good. Very good.” Joel nods and Jack’s chest expands. Is it a smile you see on your boyfriend’s face? Pfff. Someone’s happy to be praised by daddy.

“Now what about oral?” Joel continues.

Your boyfriend rubs his neck and mumbles, “Mmm.. don’t know.. tongue?”

“Yeah, can’t do without,” Joel chuckles. “But in my experience..,” he turns to you and finishes, “—it’s anticipation.”

His intent gaze warms up your skin, his raspy voice seeps into the deepest parts of you, as he speaks, “When you’re out and about— bar, movies, Trader Joe’s, wherever, do this.”

Mr Miller scoots closer to you on the bed and leans in. His hot breath licks at your ear, his scent, manly and enticing, makes your head spin, but what turns you into a needy puddle is his soft words,

“Can’t wait to have you to myself tonight and taste your little pussy.”

Your lips part, you take a sharp breath, liquid fire floods your lower belly as blood rushes to your core.

Mr Miller pulls back a little and tilts his head to observe your face.

“See?” He says to Jack while his gaze is on you. “Her breathing quickens, her eyes get hazy. She’s gonna be thinkin’ about it all day. Picturin’ you eatin’ her out over and over.”

You’re trying to control your expression, your burning up body, your aching pussy but Joel’s effect on you is undeniable. You’re nothing but a horny mess right now.

“Why not start the foreplay hours before, right?” the older man glances at his son. “Don’t yap on and on about it, of course, it’ll get annoyin’ but one more phrase s’fine.. something like ...” Mr Miller lifts his big hand to your face, gently cups your cheek and says, “Wanna feel you drip on my tongue so damn much.”

Fuck! Good thing you’re sitting because your knees would definitely buckle and you’d collapse on the floor right this second. His voice, both velvet and gruff, and the things he’s saying with that voice are affecting you in a way you’ve never experienced before. You could come just listening to his dirty talk, breathing in his masculine scent, sensing the heat of his huge body crushing against your skin like a powerful wave.

Joel’s next question, said quieter, as if only for your ears, might as well be a headshot.

“Is it workin’? You gettin’ wet, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you rasp and clear your throat.

“Good,” Joel reacts with a warm smile. “Now could you take your shorts off for me and lie down? Let’s start.”

****

Main masterlist | Series masterlist | Read on AO3

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"What do you wear to a fight?" You asked Di on the phone when she called to give you the information about the fight.

"I don't know? Very short shorts and a bathing suit top?"

"I don't plan on stealing the ring girl's job!"

"Shame, I think you would be a hit. Just wear something comfortable. And something you won't mind having beer spilled on."

"Damn, I wanted to wear my red cocktail dress and the stilettos I never use."

"The backless one that shows your boobs? I think every man in the room would love it if you dressed like that." Di laughs, and you join in, imagining the incongruity of such a scene.

"It's all the way down Clearwater, I'll pick you up at 6, just in case we hit traffic on our way there."

"Aren't you going to ride with Benny?" You are surprised by the arrangement; you thought you would drive there by yourself.

"No, he'll be there earlier and probably leave after us. Doing his trainer job. He'll meet me at my place later. That way we'll have time to debrief on our way back."

"Sounds like a plan! "

The day Di comes and picks you up, you are ready in your most comfortable outfit, including a black t-shirt that says, Feminist is My Second Favorite F word. You figure it'll be a great conversation starter. Or a way to see how Benny and his friends react.

While waiting for her, you smile, remembering the last time you saw Frankie, on Thursday evening. You stood on the tarmac to wait for him, and you had watched him land his helicopter after his sunset ride. You were here to give him the next day's weather report, since you weren't working that day, and you decided to wait for him outside, to make sure you wouldn't miss him. Not because you wanted to see him fly again. Not because you loved watching him from afar, as he maneuvered the tricky vehicle. Watch his face as he concentrates, his serious look and the headset that makes him look so competent. No, not at all.

After he said farewell to the passenger on his flight, he spotted you, and your heart jumped at the smile that spread on his face. This had to mean something, right? You felt like a shift as you both walked toward each other, and while you both talked about work. It felt like both your minds were elsewhere, not in the words you were saying. You felt it in the way he seemed to lose track of his words, on the way you both smiled at each other, at the way you both lingered instead of saying goodbye. The evening wind was blowing the curls out of your bun in every direction, sometimes coming on your face. And for a moment, it seemed like he was going to tuck a wild curl behind your ear. You saw his hand move toward your face, the finger twitch. But instead, Colin interrupted whatever was about to happen by calling out for Frankie, and you had no choice but to leave. But turning back to look at Frankie, you saw he was still looking, with a small smile on his face. You've been replaying the scene in your head ever since, wondering what might have happened if he had tucked that curl. You think you might have kissed him.

You're going to ask him out. You are done wondering, you've had fun with the flirting, but now you want more. Maybe you could ask him to that movie you talked about earlier. Something innocent enough, should he not want to date you, which you are doubting more and more. Yes, that's what you are going to do. You'll text him something tomorrow. By the time you are in Di's care, you are composing the text in your head.

"¡Carajo! [Damn it!] Why can't this thing stay in place?" He's been trying to fix Mia's hair into the same complicated harido she had when he picked her up last week. But he can't seem to follow the YouTube tutorial he found. His clumsy fingers are too big for his daughter's fine curls. And the fact that she keeps fidgeting on her chair doesn't help.

"Daddy!" Mia giggles and turns to put her hand on Frankie's mouth, totally unravelling the part that he had managed to secure on her hair. "You said a bad word!"

"Ooooh, Daddy is in trouble!" Santi, who has been sitting at the kitchen table, doing whatever on his phone, pipes up with a look that can only mean one thing: make Frankie's life harder. "Well done, mi princesa [my princess], for understanding the word, your Spanish is getting better and better!"

Frankie is torn between embarrassment at having cursed in front of his daughter, and wanting to kill Santi for not helping at all.

Mia is in stitches. Her shyness with Santi is now totally forgotten. They are like thick and thieves, and despite all the mischief that happened in the past week and the time he wanted to kick his friend out of the house, Frankie is trying very hard not to smile, especially when he can sense Mia is almost ready to repeat the word. He can see it in her face, the cute grin she wears and the way she squints her eyes in concentration. He cuts her off before she can say anything with a stern, "Mija," [honey] She giggles again and jumps from the chair when the doorbell rings.

"Your hair!" Frankie yells after her but to no avail. He follows her to the door, watching the last strand of hair fall off from the pin that was vialantly holding it on top of her head. He sighs and opens the doors as Mia yells, "Mama!" Selena picks her up and smothers her in kisses. She gives Frankie a look after taking a look at Mia's hair when she puts her down. He just shrugs, and Selena smirks before hugging Santi.

"Muñequita [Sweetie], ready to go to mom's house?"

"Yes!" Mia runs to get her small backpack that contains her most precious treasures: trinkets and toys she carries with her everywhere.

Frankie picks up Mia's other bag and hands it to Elena, apologizing, "I was trying to do a French braid, but I just can't get it right."

"That one's hard, especially because this little one moves around all the time." She tickles Mia, who is back in her arms and squirming as she laughs.

"Say goodbye to Daddy and Uncle Santi!"

Frankie goes to kiss Mia after Santi, patting her hair to try and make it less wild. "Goodbye muñeca [sweetie], have a fun week with mommy and Jorge, I'll see you next week."

"Bye Daddy!"

The door closes, and like always, Frankie feels some little relief in the quiet that settles in the house and huge sadness to see his daughter go.

"Shit, you were right, the place looks like a tornado went through it." Santi is standing in the middle of the living room. Toys are scattered all around, and Frankie knows the kitchen isn't any better. He is relieved his friend is here to help with the loneliness he feels every time Mia leaves.

"We'll have to take care of it tomorrow. We should leave now if we don't want to be late for Benny's fight."

"Yeah, right, let me grab my things."

Driving over the causeway, Frankie thinks back on last Thursday, when he could have sworn you wanted to kiss him. You had been waiting for him as he landed the helicopter, looking prettier than ever, loose curls flying around your head. Your pretty smile as you gave him a report that could definitely have waited for him to come back to the office, or could even have been left on his desk. Your eyes were sparkling as you laughed at a bad joke he made, he doesn't even remember what it was. And the way your eyes dropped to his mouth when he almost reached out for your hair. He could have killed Colin for interrupting the moment.

He keeps replaying this in his head, and the more he thinks about it, the more he knows he wants to take you on a date. He's been denying it, but he really likes you, and he is pretty much certain you like him too. Wh? He can't understand, he was such an ass the first time you met, but he isn't going to throw away his second chance. He'll text you tomorrow, there is a movie showing you mentioned wanting to see, and he hopes you haven't yet.

When you arrive, the place is already packed. The fight is supposed to start in less than 30 minutes, and people already have drinks in hand, and some are already seated. You are nervous. Not because you're about to meet your friend's boyfriend, even if she refuses to use that word, "we aren't in high school". It's because you are going to have to meet other people in a setting you are definitely not used to.

"I texted Benny, he's in the locker room with Jim, the guy he's training. He'll come out and say hi before going back there."

As you order your drinks, you watch as a tall blond guy comes up to Di; she squeals in delight, kisses him, and then introduces you to each other. You see what she meant, he is tall, muscular, very hot, and also the exact opposite of every guy Diana has dated. He looks like the type she sleeps with but never dates. And with the look of utter love he gives her, that she gives back, the smile they both have on their face while they chat as you wait for your drinks, you can tell this is serious. More than any other guy she had introduced to you. Benny is nice, he includes you in the conversation and even gets a kick out of your t-shirt. All in all, you feel at ease, until he says, "Let's go meet the guys. You can sit with them, and I'll join you when the fight starts."

You sense Diana tensing next to you, so you try to ease your own nerves. It doesn't matter if no one likes you. You have to be there for her.

You walk toward a group of 4 men; you immediately recognize Benny's brother, another tall, hot, blond guy who smiles at both you and Di when he sees you arrive. The guy standing next to him has brown hair, and when his gaze follows his friend's, he seems a little annoyed at the interruption. The two other guys have their backs turned to you. One is a little shorter, he has black and grey hair, and next to him, a silhouette that makes your heart stop. The shoulders, the hat- that can't be him? And then he turns around, and you exclaim, "Frankie?"

Upon arriving, the first thing Frankie notices is the beer Tom has in his hand. Unless the bar sells non alcoholic beer, which he doubts, it means he was right in doubting Tom's commitment, and he hates the feeling of being right. He doesn't have time to linger on the feeling, because Benny greets them with a big hug and a slap on the shoulder, showing his excitement at having everyone for his protégé's first fight. It's hard to stay fixated on his uneasiness when he sees his friend so happy, even more when he tells them, "Diana is coming with a friend."

Tom rolls his eyes and is probably ready to make a snarky comment, which leads Frankie to think this is not his first beer. Fortunately, Santi jokes about Benny's new relationship status, and after Benny leaves them to go check on Jim, the group of friends talks and laughs like old times. It feels like a moment coming around, like everything is folding back into place. The irony is not lost on Frankie that the last time they were all in this place was just before they left for Colombia and before everything fell to pieces.

Suddenly, Will, who was telling them about the latest project, stops talking, his eyes focusing on a point in their group. It only takes a second for Frankie to understand that Benny is here with his girlfriend, and when he turns around, ready to greet her, he hears, "Frankie?"

He sees you, standing in front of him, a bewildered look on your face.

"You two know each other?" Benny asks.

"We work together!" You say, turning to Benny.

"You must be Frankie's new colleague." Santi chimes in, extending his hand to shake yours, making Frankie want to hit him when he sees you confused as you nod.

Luckily, there is no time to linger on this, as Will greets Diana, Benny's girl, a very pretty tall brunette, who seems nervous but also very much smitten, which makes Frankie happy. They all barely have to introduce each other, as Benny leaves, asking them to play nice, kissing Diana and going back for the last pep talk.

"What are the odds?" Diana turns to Frankie, a grin on her face, one that clearly means trouble as she adds, "I've heard so much about you."

Frankie mirrors her smirk, "Have you? Not too much bad stuff, I hope?"

"You mean apart from your first impression? What was it? 'pretty face and no brain', something like that?" Frankie can't help his wince. You elbow Diana, hissing "Di!" and she laughs.

Soon after, the MC announces the arrivals of the fighters and everyone's attention is centered on the fighters and the ring. And you shuffle closer to him while Diana is drawn to Benny, who has just joined them.

"I can't believe you're here! I'm here to meet Di's elusive boyfriend, and you've been his friend all this time. She's been so secretive about him." She adds like an afterthought.

"I didn't even know Benny's was going to introduce us to Diana tonight. He barely talked about her, even we knew something was up. So yeah, not only was I surprised when he announced she was coming, but knowing you are her friend, that's inconceivable."

"Look at these two being so discreet when they evidently like each other so much." They both look at Diana and Benny. He has his arm over her shoulder and is whispering something in her ear. She tilts her head back as she laughs, still clapping for the fighters. You and Frankie look at each other and smile at the scene.

The fight starts, and he notices your wince when the first blow hits, and then your head turns away when another blow brings blood from a cut on one of the opponent's faces.

"First fight?" He leans in to ask, making sure you hear him over the loud cheers.

"That obvious? Yeah. Not my scene, but I was curious." You turn your face to him, eyes still showing your uneasiness.

"It does take a while to get used to it."

"You are?" You look at him intently, like you are trying to read him, search deep inside him. He turns his face to the ground. He isn't ready for you to see all the ugly parts he hides.

"Unfortunately, yes. But you don't have to watch, we can go sit in the back."

"I don't want to take you away from your friends. And I want to be here for Diana, it's also her first fight." Your eyes are drawn to your friend. "Promise you won't tell anyone, but she's so nervous to meet everyone. I know she's faking the ease she is showing right now to fit in."

"I don't think she needs to fake anything. If she makes Benny happy, which is definitely the case, we are going to love her."

For the rest of the fight, he makes sure to talk to you and bring your attention to something else when he senses it gets too much for you.

The fight is thankfully over soon, and Benny leaves them again to debrief the fight. The guys are actually a great group, not that you would have doubted it, but you might have had your own prejudice. But with Frankie there, it's fairly easy to feel included. And you can tell Will does everything to make Di comfortable in Benny's absence.

They are all a tight group of friends, joking around, rough and nice to each other. Santi uses his charm on both Diana and you, and you understand very quickly that it's just a facade when soon he launches into a talk about his own girl who is coming to join him in a few weeks, his eyes betraying the love he feels for her. The only one you have a hard time talking to is Tom. The more the evening goes on, the more aloof he seems to get, and you can't help but count the number of beers he drinks. It's hard not to notice his eyes going out of focus and his speech getting slurred, even if he still seems pretty held together.

When you return from a brief stop at the bathroom, you find yourself a little alone. Benny and Di are a little further away, in a corner, talking like two people in love, as if the world didn't exist despite the noise and crowd. You don't want to interrupt them, they seem so sweet together. But you feel a little nervous to go join the group of men, not because they won't welcome you, but just because you don't want to interrupt the heated conversation they seem to have. You grab a drink, and since you see that Frankie doesn't have anything, on a whim you get him the same drink he's had all night. You arrive with both drinks in hand, and Frankie, seeing you, smiles, which eases your nerves. But once you join the group, Tom turns to you and, with unconcealed annoyance, snaps, "Can't you see you are interrupting us?"

You feel shame and embarrassment, but also anger all at once, and you let anger take the lead because even if you were afraid of bothering, the exact reason you hesitated to join them, you won't let anyone talk to you like this.

"Fuck you!" That's all that comes out of your mouth. You barely see your surroundings, you have tunnel vision, and everything is red. "You don't get to talk to me like this."

"Excuse me?" You can see the rage radiate from him as he moves to tower over you. He is taller than Frankie, and he is using all his height to intimidate you, taking another step toward you. But you don't care; your fury is making you take a reckless decision, as you take your own step forward and look him straight in the eyes. You barely listen to the guys around starting to talk; you don't know, care, what they are saying, instead flare.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your chat, and I would gladly have left if you had had manners. And yeah, I'll leave, but fuck you for talking to me like this." And before you leave, you pour both drinks down his crotch, you don't care that it also soaks part of your shoes. You just look at his face as it goes red, and veins threaten to pop from anger on his forehead. You see hands restrain Tom on his arms and torso, and with a smile and one last look, you leave. As you walk away, you feel all the anger leave your body, and the adrenaline leaves room for anxiety and fear. You quickly leave the building, not daring to look back. You hope the guys will hold him because he definitely seems like the guy who could punch you, especially since he is drunk and probably not in his right mind.

Frankie is too shocked when Tom yells at you that he barely reacts, Santi being the first to hold Tom's arms, and Will putting a hand on his chest when he takes a step toward you. He does manage to warn Tom by calling out his name, getting closer to intervene. But he is still so stunned, he didn't expect your reaction and could almost have laughed when you poured the drink on Tom. And it's only when you leave that his temper flies. He is torn between wanting to punch Tom and run to you. He manages to contain himself, stepping in front of Tom, once you leave and look at him straight in the eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What the fuck? Have you seen what she's done?" Tom is ready to fight, Frankie can tell, but he holds still, pushing hard on Tom's chest to make him back off.

"Fuck off, Tom, you don't talk to people like this. I'm going to see if she is ok, but this right here, what just happened? We are going to talk about it. Get a grip on yourself and stop the fucking booze." He doesn't care if he angers Tom, if he embarrasses him in front of their friends, calling out his drunkness, he just wants to get to you and check that you are ok.

He needs to temper his anger, because he is furious. Before you arrived, Tom was back on his usual shit, talking to them all excited, booze running through his veins, rejoicing in Santi coming home, and starting to plan a very dangerous trip to get the money back. The disappointment he felt when he saw Tom drinking again was only heightened when he realised neither Will nor Benny seemed to notice. Only Santi sent a look his way to see how he fared. And as the evening went on and Tom got drunker, Frankie got angrier until this moment where he might have punched Tom and started a fight, instead of doing what was important, which was coming to see you.

You are out, a phone in your hand, when he gets to you. Calling your name, you turn around, and you seem relieved when you see him, but still a little apprehensive.

"I'm sorry about Tom; he should never have talked to you this way." Frankie wants to put you at ease.

"You don't have to apologize for your friend. He's a grown man and needs to own up to his shit."

"You're right, but I don't think he's in the right state of mind to realize that right now. And I don't want you to leave like that, thinking we are like that, that's not how–" He doesn't even know how to finish this sentence.

"He needs to stop drinking, that guy had some serious issues." He can see you are still angry, and the hand not holding your phone is trembling. He takes a step toward you and holds your hand. "I know, he does. I've been trying to talk to him. I'm really sorry."

You take a deep breath and leave your hand in his, letting him squeeze it.

"I'm sorry about my reaction, I might have gone a little too far."

"You didn't. I'm sorry I was so slow at reacting, I didn't expect this to happen. But I can tell you he didn't either, and he deserved it. You ok?"

You take another deep breath and take your hand away from his. You look at your phone and sigh. "Yeah, I just want to leave, but I don't think there are any cars around."

"Why don't I take you home?" Frankie doesn't want to see you go, but he understands your need to be alone.

"No, I don't want to bother you, you have to go back to your friends."

"Believe me, I don't want to go back there and face Tom after what I told him. What about Diana?"

"She'll be fine, she's with Benny now, and I don't want to bother her."

"Let me take you, I'm ready to go home too." He wants to make sure you get back home safe and that you are alright.

"Ok," you relent after another look at your phone.

As he takes you to his truck, he quickly texts Santi, letting him know his driving you home and seeing if he can get a ride with Will. He quickly gets an answer: "Don't worry, I have my key in case you don't come home ;)."

The drive is mostly quiet, he tries to talk a little but senses you need quiet. He can feel you relax, and that eases him. When you get closer to your place, you direct him, and soon they are in front of your house. He gets out before you can turn to him to thank him. He wants to walk you to your door. He wants to apologize again, wants to make sure you are ok, and maybe if he can muster the courage, ask you out. He doesn't get in time to open your car door, but you let him walk you to your door.

Once you get there, before you turn to thank him and take your leave, he speaks. "I'm really sorry about how the evening ended, but I want you to know the guys really enjoyed their evening, and that Diana was a hit."

You smile at that, and Frankie rejoices that he managed to make you feel lighter.

"I'm really happy. She hasn't had a relationship in a while, and I was surprised when she told me about Benny. I really hope this works out."

"Me too. Benny has been through some shit, and he had a hard time settling. Seeing him with her makes me happy. They look good."

"Yeah, I think they bring a lot to each other. I hope I didn't ruin anything with my reaction."

Frankie grabs both your hands, he wants to make sure you listen, and you look at him in surprise when he pulls you toward him.

"You did nothing wrong. Frankly, I've got enough of Tom's bullshit, and I think everyone has. This has to be his wake-up call. And nothing you do will ruin anything for Benny and Di." You look at him with such openness, like you are drinking his every word, that he almost bends his head to kiss you. But he doesn't want to do this now after what happened, so instead he adds, "And I promise, if the guys don't like you, they won't hold it against Di."

That makes you laugh, and he smiles watching the last bit of tension leave your body. For a moment you just look at each other, letting the moment fill you with warmth.

Until you say, "Frankie. Kiss me."

Spanish translation: muñeca/muñequita: literally doll, sweetie carajo: literally dick, cock, used to say damn it, hell, fuck

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Miserable.

If Din Djarin could use one word to sum up the illness that was running its course through his exhausted body right now, it would be miserable. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he was actually sick. He would sustain some grueling injuries more often than not, but this was something else.

His voice was hoarse, his muscles ached profoundly, and he swore he could feel this fever down to bones. 

The Razor Crest felt remarkably humid, and Maker, all the beskar that covered Din’s body didn't help.

You’d done your best to take care of him, doting on him every chance you got, but that didn’t change how uncomfortable it was to be in a full suit of armour while he felt his absolute worst. 

You knew Din was especially stubborn, but that didn’t deter you from trying to convince him to take off the beskar.

You’d managed to keep the ship cool, turning the temperature down to the point where you were past freezing, but your comfort was the last thing on your mind.

Taking care of a certain sick Mandalorian was first. 

Trying to balance taking care of the child and doting on Din at the same time was a lot of work, but you were managing. Grogu seemed to understand that the usually menacing bounty hunter was a little under the weather right now.

Anytime you would bring Din medicine, water, soup, anything – little footsteps would follow tightly behind you. 

The child babbled at your side when you placed a bowl of warm soup by the cot, worried about his dad. 

“I know, honey,” you said softly while the child was looking up at you with his big, round eyes. His green ears tilted down slightly. “He’s not himself today, is he?” 

In response, Grogu cooed and reached up to signal that he wanted you to hold him. You obliged of course. 

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest. It was almost cute seeing Din like this. A man usually so intimidating and reserved was now reaching out for you and the child, acting like he’d just been shot as he reached for the bowl of soup. 

If you were completely honest, you liked being his medic. Especially when you had such a cute helper by your side.

You sighed, looking at the sick Mandalorian.

“That bad, huh?”

He groaned in response.

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew that behind his helmet, he couldn't have been smiling.

“Let’s let dad eat and rest, okay little one?” you said to the child in your arms. He made a small noise in agreement, and you grabbed a thin blanket before the two of you made your way outside. 

Din had set the Razor Crest down in a quiet, forgotten stretch of space on a planet with no name that mattered since the two of you were in between traveling when he’d gotten sick.

It was beautiful here. Wide, open fields of grass and meadows. The wind was crisp and there was a river that quietly rippled nearby. A beautiful planet that was so peaceful and full of life. 

As you wrapped the blanket around yourself, you watched the child play in the grass and wobble around. You smiled to yourself at the sight, your heart feeling warm again. You’d imagined a life like this before:

Just you, Din, and the child living a peaceful, quiet life off the grid.

You had a feeling it may have crossed Din's mind, too.

Grogu made a happy noise snapping you out of your thoughts as you watched him pick up little things such as flowers and pebbles with the force. A small laugh escaped your lips.

“Good job, little guy!”

The child made more noises of excitement and happiness, and you felt complete. The only thing missing was Din beside you. 

You’d been too preoccupied to notice, but Din had been watching you and Grogu from the ship. He’d gotten up to get some water, too stubborn to bother you for something so simple, and noticed that you were outside.

Din felt his heart beat faster in his chest as he watched.

Why’d you have to be so cute? 

He wondered if you knew that he thought about you in this way, but he was leaning towards no.

The wind tugged at the edges of your blanket as your hair blew softly in the wind, and Grogu was still mindlessly wandering outside with your company. 

It was astonishing how something so simple made him feel so many things. 

Quietly, he made his way back to bed to rest, silently wishing you’d come and dote on him so he could catch a glimpse of your face again.

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“Hey, you.”

Your soft voice woke Din out of his sleep, and the gentle touch of your hands on his shoulder made his heart flip.

“You’re here…” he grumbled as his gloveless hand came to touch yours. You felt your cheeks heat up slightly and you let out a hum of acknowledgment.

He’d never done that before. Especially not with his gloves off. 

It took all your strength to pull your hand away from his. You held up a small glass bottle.

“Medicine,” you announced softly. “It’ll help you feel better.”

“Don’t need it.” 

You sighed and shook your head with a smile.

The stubbornness of this grown man, you thought.

“I’m going to leave this here in case you need it, then. Rest up, Mando.”

Mando.

The nickname made him perk up for a moment; he loved hearing your voice. He watched you quietly leave again, but he wished that you’d stay.

Your touch was so warm. Again, he found himself wondering if you knew what you were doing to him.

Din had been…testing the waters recently, so to say.

He was trying to see if you noticed the subtle things he did or said. Then, he would study you carefully to gauge your reaction. It was never anything super forward or out there, but he’d been trying in his own way.

At first, he started standing a little closer to you when there was space for him to be further. Just to see. He wouldn’t move away if you stepped into his space.

One time, he even placed his hands gently against your waist while trying to move past you. He noticed that when he did that, your cheeks went rosy.

Did you like when he did that? He desperately wanted to know.

Then his tone when speaking changed too.

He was reserved when you first came into his life. Very stoic and independent. He’d mostly nod to acknowledge what you said, but slowly and surely, he started to break.

Din reflected on that one time he slipped up and called you mesh’la, but luckily, you didn’t notice.

The growing ache in his body pulled Din away from his thoughts. Reality was so much worse than his fantasies with you in it.

Hesitantly, he reached over for the bottle of medicine you left. He was admitting defeat; this fever was awful.

Skimming over the instructions printed on the back of the glass, he lifted his helmet ever so slightly and downed the bottle. 

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After preparing dinner for both you and Grogu, as well as another bowl of soup for Din, you heard babbling and squeals coming from where the Din was resting.

Glancing back at the table where you last placed the little green child to sit, you noticed he was missing.

“Sweetheart?" you asked softly, calling out to the child.

You walked into where Din was sleeping earlier, but he was up now. He was sitting upright and playing with Grogu. You sat on the edge of the cot with a warm smile, catching the attention of both Din and the kid.

“You’re up,” you said with surprise. “Feeling better?” 

“There you are.” Din’s voice sounded slightly slurred through the modulator, the medicine clearly working its magic. He tilted his head and looked directly at you. “I like when you’re here.”

Your eyes widened. Was this just the cold medicine talking for him, or were your suspicions right?

“Din," you asked. “Did you take the entire bottle?”

“Yes.”

“You’re only supposed to take, like, half of that…”

“Oh.”

“Are you feeling alr–“

“You’re really pretty.”

You froze as his words interrupted yours.

Surprise was written on your face as you blinked. He let out a small laugh, clearly delirious from the medicine.

“I like when you stay, cyar’ika.”

Your heart was thumping against your chest. You couldn’t help but wonder again if he was truly out of it from the medication or if he was just loose around the edges right now. 

Perhaps the medicine was simply blurring his inhibitions, making it easier for the truth to slip out. 

After a few more moments of silence, you found your voice.

“You took a lot of medicine, Din.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he replied.

His helmet was tilted slightly, but you could tell he was looking right at you. You averted your gaze to the child who was babbling quietly in Din’s arms.

“So, by that logic, what you’re saying isn’t true. It’s just the medicine talking.“

“No, it’s true. I liiiike you.” 

You had to hold back a laugh at the way he was talking, but you could feel your cheeks heating up more than ever. 

“Okay, you need to lie back down. Come here, Grogu.”

You motioned the child towards you, unable to hide your smile. Grogu came waddling towards you on the bed. Gently, you scooped him into your arms and stood up, watching Din lie back down as he mumbled something to himself.

You looked at Grogu with a smile.

“What do you think, little one? Do you think he’s telling the truth?” The child babbled in agreement to your question, and you let out a breathy laugh. “Maker, you’re so cute.”

“Thanks. You’re cuter.”

You turned your attention back to Din.

“I was talking Grogu, but…you’re not so bad yourself, Mando. I’d like to see how much of this you’ll remember tomorrow morning, though.” 

“Okaaaaay.”

And true to your word, you held him to it.

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Morning eventually rolled around.

You were up early making breakfast with the child by your side. He squealed suddenly, causing you to turn around, only to be met with a familiar tall, broad figure covered in shiny metal. 

He sits down and his tone is normal again.

“Morning.”  

“Good morning," you replied normally.

He didn’t say anything else, but...you didn’t like the silence. You wanted to ask him about last night.

However, in order to save whatever dignity he had left after that, you decided to hold off on any serious questions for now. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked.

“Like I got hit by a speeder," he huffed.

Din looked over at you and suddenly, bits of pieces of last night came back to him.

“You’re really pretty.”

“I like when you stay.”

“I liiike you.” 

He shifted in his seat.

“Did I…say something to you yesterday?” he asked.

You stayed silent for a moment before answering.

“You were extra affectionate last night,” you replied. It almost sounded like you were teasing him. 

Din froze and he pretended not to remember. “…Was I?”

“Mm, very.” You gave him your full attention as you set breakfast down. “Nothing bad, though.”

He cleared his throat. “What exactly do you mean by affectionate?” 

You bit back a smile as you replied, “Oh, you know. Wanted me to stay close, kept reaching for my hand.”

“...Right. I was sick.”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

That was a lie, and a terrible one at that. Even with the helmet on, you could practically see him replaying the memories in real time.

“Did I say anything strange?” he asked carefully. 

There it was – your chance to dig deeper.

“Depends on your definition of strange,” you replied with a shrug. “Honestly, most of it was sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Well,” you began. “You told me that I'm pretty.”

He groaned, but you continued.

“You also said that I'm cute. Then you said that you...liked me.” 

Another groan.

“And–”

“That’s enough.”

“It isn’t, actually.” 

Din didn’t argue back.

“You were very honest,” you continued with a small smile.

“How honest?” His voice was low.

“Relax. You didn’t reveal any Republic secrets or anything.” 

“You know that’s not what I’m worried about.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and silence settled between you. Din froze. You froze. 

For a second, neither of you moved.

“No,” you said, breaking the silence. “I suppose it isn’t.”

Gone was the attempt to play dumb. Gone was the denial. The truth settled between you and him in the stillness.

“So,” you added, unable to resist. “The good news is that you were very polite about it.”

Din let out a deep sigh as he braced himself for your rejection. “And the bad news?”

You stared at him. For a moment, you couldn't believe he was serious. The way his shoulders had gone rigid. The way he'd already begun preparing himself for disappointment before you'd even answered him.

As if there was any world where you wouldn't want him back.

As if you hadn't spent months hopelessly, painfully in love with him.

Din thought he was about to lose you. Your teasing smile faded.

“The bad news is that you apparently only confess your feelings when you're running a fever. You couldn't have done this six months ago?"

He sat there silently, clearly not following.

You shook your head, letting out a breathless laugh. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to figure it out?"

You watched the exact moment your words registered. He shifted ever so slightly. You folded your arms across your chest.

"I was beginning to think I'd imagined all of it,” you said.

"All of what?" he asked.

"The staring."

"I don't stare."

"The hovering,” you continued. “And don’t forget the finding excuses to sit next to me."

"I—"

"The fact that every time someone flirts with me, you suddenly become the most unpleasant man anyone's ever met. I spent months trying to convince myself you weren't interested."

"Months?" His voice was full of genuine shock.

"Yes, months."

The word seemed to genuinely disturb him, as if the idea that you'd been wondering all this time was somehow unacceptable. You should have been his all this time.

"You knew?" he asked hesitantly.

You stared at him. "Knew what?”

“That I…you know.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Din.”

“Yes?”

"You wear a helmet."

"Oh."

"You barely talk."

"Oh."

"And your version of flirting is handing me things without making eye contact."

"Oh."

You pointed at him again. "Exactly."

He visibly relaxed. You took this opportunity to take a seat beside him. No distance this time. 

“So you didn’t know?” he asked, turning to face you as you sat down.

You blinked.

“Do you have any idea how good I've gotten at reading you? You have one visible facial expression and it’s just…helmet. Of course I knew.”

“You did?” His head tilted. 

"Din Djarin, you once spent three days fixing a door that wasn't broken because you didn't know how to ask me to stay in the cockpit with you."

The silence that followed was incriminating.

You sighed as you leaned against him, laying your head against his beskar-clad shoulder. He didn’t stop you. 

"I was fixing the door," he told you.

"You were absolutely not fixing the door."

"I was.”

"It worked perfectly."

"It was making a noise."

"It wasn't."

"It was."

You looked up at him lovingly, and he looked down at you through his visor.

For a moment, all was still. All was quiet.

"...I guess this means I don't have to wait until I'm sick again,” he said, a faint hint of confidence returning to his voice. “Close your eyes.”

Your heart immediately began hammering. You searched his visor, as if somehow you'd be able to see the expression hidden beneath it.

Whatever you were looking for, you found enough of it.

Slowly, you closed your eyes.

Then there was the faint sound of movement as you felt him shift beside you, and a soft hiss of beskar.

Your breath caught.

And then...you felt it.

His lips pressed against yours.

Everything in the galaxy seemed to stop. He was yours. Warm and real and finally, finally yours.

The kiss lasted only a moment. It was just long enough to leave your head spinning, and you wrapped your arms around him to treasure the feeling.

When he pulled away, you were still sitting there with your eyes closed.

But when you opened them again, Din was already lowering his helmet back into place. However, this time, neither of you needed to say anything.

You both just knew.

You’re by his side in an instant, attempting to let him prop himself up on you, to use your body to support his. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug. You wrap your own arms around him, a hand finding his hair and attempting to brush through it—only to find it matted with blood. He must feel you tense next to him, a sharp breath escaping you as your fingers feel over his scalp, trying to locate the wound.

“Not mine,” he mumbles under his breath. He pauses for a short moment. “I promised I would come back.”

“You always do and yet I dread the day you will break that promise,” you say, a sad smile playing around your lips. You pull back enough to look at him, taking in the small cuts on his face and the deep lines between his brows that you want to smooth out until he looks as peaceful as he does in his sleep.

He does not protest when you try to take some of his weight on you, silently wishing you could take his worries too, and lead him away from the atrium and towards the small bath that is off to the side. You maneuver him through the small archway that is framed by beige columns on either side and into the middle of the room, the scent of the bath salts filling your nostrils as soon as you take a deep breath.

Acacius lifts his right arm—and immediately screws his face up in pain. You send a stern glance his way. “Let me do that.”

You nudge his arm to the side just enough to reach the leather strings that hold his armor together, slowly working your way through them until you can easily slide the dark leather off him, shaking your head weakly when you see how caked with blood and dirt it is. When you’ve placed the armor on one of the stone benches that line the wall, you move on to his braces and his shoes—and finally, the undercloth, taking it off just as carefully and leaving him in just his underwear.

And then, you suddenly see the reason he’s holding himself the way he is.

A nasty cut marks his right side, just below the ribs. You swallow hard, reaching out and tracing the dried blood around it with a motion that comes naturally. You feel Acacius shift under your fingers, bringing his own hands towards yours and wrapping them around it. They fit perfectly, his grip strong despite his injury.

Your gaze is drawn back to his face by the movement and he smiles weakly. “It looks much worse than it is, dulcissima.”

He’s not wrong. He’s definitely had worse injuries, including the time he barely made it to the atrium, instead collapsing into your arms just behind the entrance to the domus. But, quite frankly, it doesn’t mean you don’t worry.

“It stopped bleeding halfway here,” Acacius adds, correctly interpreting your silence.

“Why didn’t you clean yourself at the baths? They would’ve tended to your wound.” You search his face as you speak.

“I wanted to be with you.”

You sigh disapprovingly at his response, though you can’t deny you like to have him close too, especially when he’s injured. Which, with him, feels like it’s every other day.

He leans down to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, mumbling. “It really does not hurt all that much anymore.” His arm sneaks back around you, though his hand is now wandering much lower than it did before.

You bite your lip, trying to give him another stern look but you can feel the way you begin to falter as he smoothes circles into the fabric of your tunic. “Acacius, your servants—”

“They are busy,” he assures you, dragging his lips over your cheek and towards your earlobe. “Besides, if any of them attempted to talk, I’d have their heads.”

You listen into the silence that follows, almost determined to catch a pair of feet approaching or a voice in the distance. But the only sounds that reach your ears are those of the small fountain in the atrium and Acacius’s breath against your skin.

“We won’t be disturbed,” he hums and you sigh in defeat, reaching down to undo his subligaculum, the soft fabric falling away to reveal the trail of dark hair that leads down towards his cock. You’re only mildly surprised to find him already half-hard.

“Let me clean you first at least,” you mutter, leading him further into the room and towards the small bath embedded in the tiled floor. You sit him down at the edge of it, letting him dangle his legs into the warm water. You reach for a cloth, wet it slightly and get to work. You start with his arms, watching as the dirt and blood starts to come off, revealing the tanned skin underneath.

You hear Acacius sigh above you and you feel his eyes on you, the soft gaze he looks at you with so different from the one he carries on the battlefield. His hands begin wandering again, dipping below the thin fabric of your tunic and you are just reaching down to wet the cloth again when he manhandles you into him, placing you comfortably on his lap.

You tense for a split moment before he catches your lips in a kiss—and then you hear yourself sigh as the protest inside you makes space for a fire that’s rapidly building in your lower abdomen. You can smell him, his sweat mixed with a hint of blood, you can feel the dirt rubbing off on you but you don’t care. You just want him.

His voice is a growl. “Merda, get out of that thing already.”

You obey, crawling off him and slipping the tunic off your body, carelessly letting it fall to the dirty floor. You see Acacius’s eyes raking over your body, taking in every curve like he’s seeing you for the first time rather than the hundreth.

“You are as beautiful as the gods, my dulcissima,” he mumbles, pulling you back onto his lap, one hand securely placed on your back to keep you from falling into the water behind you.

He’s careful not to lean on his bad side as he sneaks his free hand between your bodies, dragging it down ever so slowly until he reaches your mound, his index finger drawing a few circles around your bundle of nerves before moving on, a smile spreading over his lips when he finds wetness waiting for him between your legs.

You feel your breath catch in your throat as he inserts a finger without warning, the size of them always taking you slightly by surprise. His moves are shallow, never quite pulling his finger out completely but always keeping you on that delicious edge. When he adds a second one and starts curling them, he has you whimpering almost immediately.

“Marcus, please—”

“I thought I was Acacius to you. Just to make sure you do not—how did you put it—slip up,” he mumbles, a smirk on his face. The groan you intend to sound annoyed comes out much more desperate than you would like.

“You know we have to be careful—” you try to start, but with his fingers inside you, your brain simply does not work the way it usually does.

“One of these days, I’ll make you my wife,” he mumbles into your ear, his voice so low you can barely hear it. Without taking his eyes off yours, his thumb finds the spot that, combined with his words, almost drives you over the edge. “And you’ll live with me and we can make as many babies as you want.”

It catches you off-guard, but not in an unpleasant way. It’s just a fantasy, one that may very well be unattainable, but you like to let your mind drift there regardless. Judging by the twitch his cock gives against your skin, you’re clearly not the only one who does.

At that thought, you manage to hold off a bit longer and reach for him in return, enjoying the way his breath catches in his throat when your hand wraps around his attention-starved cock. His gaze flies down, to your bodies already so intertwined, touching each other impatiently. And you know he craves it as much as you do—to be even closer, to feel the weight of him nestled inside of you.

“You are so dirty,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand and making you whine at the loss. He wipes at some of the dirt on your thigh, mixing it with your own juices.

“And you seem to rather enjoy that,” you mumble back, squeezing him slightly. An affirmative chuckles leaves his throat before he lifts you up and lowers you into the small bath in front of him, the warm water immediately soothing your body.

He follows a moment later, stepping into the blue mass. A few petals swirl around on the surface, stirred by your movements in the water as he pulls you close again, his body seemingly all around you as he wraps you in his arms. Then he lowers his head, trailing kisses over your collarbone and down your skin until he reaches your chest, grazing his teeth over your hardened nipple.

“Marcus—” you whine, impatiently pressing your body into his, attempting to get any friction, a task made even harder by the water around you. “I want you inside, please.”

“Always so polite, Anaticula,” he mumbles into your skin but he does satisfy himself with one more nip at your skin before pulling back. “Is that what you want?”

You nod impatiently and feel him lining himself up below you, gently directing you towards the far edge of the bath, where he immediately braces himself against the wall for support with you in his arms—and just a moment later, you can feel him sink into you.

Your bodies mold together, his cock making you feel so deliciously full and complete. You can hear him grunt as he begins to thrust into you gently, his hands on your hips as he guides you onto him again and again, making you moan into his neck as you cling on, half a mind not to touch his injury.

Acacius groans your name, his movements speeding up slightly. “Come on, I want to see your pretty face, dulcissima.” You pull back enough to see him and press your forehead against his. Your thumb comes up to wipe a spot of dirt off his face and brush over his beard, the hairs of it more gray than dark, like they were when you first met, and for a few moments, you both just stare at each other as the water around you ripples with your movements.

“Let go for me.” It's just a whisper—and one you don’t think you could ignore if you tried. You feel the wave wash over you, your vision going weak as you fall apart—knowing that Acacius will hold you close until you’re put together again. You barely notice that he follows suit, spilling himself inside of you with whispered promises of all the things you’ll have one day.

You stay intertwined in the water like that for a while. Eventually, you begin to gather some in your hand and let it run down Acacius’s scalp, beginning to wash the dried blood out of the gray-streaked hair.

“You are going to let me put a proper bandage on your cut once we get out,” you state, earning a loyal nod from him. His eyes are searching yours again, carrying the soft look you know is reserved for you.

“I did come back,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion and you suddenly feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“I know.”

You kiss him softly and he kisses you back just as softly as you curl into him, inhaling his scent and pulling him close and ever closer, determined to let noone take you from him.