men

The water that lapped gently along the beached shore always provided much comfort, much like the Homestead did in general. A gentle reminder of home, of how safe it was here, of the people who fought for you and who you would happily go to war for; not that you were particularly great at any combat. You had a good eye for shooting though, so you had been told. Only, being here? You needn't worry about that at all, only the gentle breeze in the summer air, the way the moon would glisten at the waterline before you. While residing here, you liked to think that you weren't one to keep many secrets, well, except one, of course.

Taking a dip out here, just bare and by your lonesome, it was a secret you daren't tell anyone. A little thing you liked to keep to yourself. To sneak down in the middle of the night, out by the shoreline where Connor's Aquila sat. It was risky, of course, but what enjoyment was there in life without a little risk here and there? Anyone could stumble upon you, one of his crewmen, another wanderer who enjoyed night-time as much as you did; that hadn't happened though - not yet at least - so why should you worry about that scenario at all? At night, here, by the beach, it was the only time you could appreciate to yourself; where you had the whole shoreline to yourself. And if the heat wasn't sweat inducing during the day, at night it was only worse.

Feeling the sand beneath your feet as you snuck down toward the beach became another list of warm welcomes. That and some other things, like eating something from a bakery and its still warm; or seeing Connor working outside by the stables, lifting the axe, dropping it.. his muscles flexing each time his arms fell. Oh, life teased you with such treats that it was hard to not think about him, especially when his ship sat idly by, watching as you peeled your own clothing off your skin. Tonight, it shall be only you, the Aquila, the water, the sand and the moon on your skin. Tonight should be about peace, about relishing in your little secret once again, having the comfort of the night to keep you hidden away.

It was supposed to go that way, truly, only.. ever since making your way down here; a chill ran up the expanse of your spine that wasn't excitement. The chill brewed in the pit of your stomach, like some kind of anxiety or dread - which was odd considering you had never felt such a feeling before. Now, you knew the risk of coming down here, of stripping yourself naked and bare, just to swim and feel the coolness of water blanket your skin until you prickled with excitement. It's just, there was somebody out there - lurking. You were sure of it, adamant even! It was bound to happen, you were bound to get caught; it's just you enjoyed it so much that you couldn't find yourself caring of consequences. Would there even be any? It felt unlikely, though the idea of somebody watching you was.. uncomfortable, creating an unpleasant atmosphere in the environment as you kept your body beneath the water. Almost like you were using the water itself to protect yourself, though took some extra measure to wrap your arms around your breasts just to be sure.

Everything in you wanted to shrug off the feeling, it was your own fault, just enjoy the water and continue on with what you wanted to do - relax. Just, how could you? If this person could step out and announce themselves, then maybe you'd feel a little better; in fact, a lot better if it were just somebody like Ellen or Prudence. The thought almost made you scoff, why would they be out here? Why would anyone be out here? It was the middle of the night, most people slept and wouldn't bother to come down here, even if they had an inkling of what you were doing; why would they disturb you? You were allowed your own time, own space.

Cupping your hands together, you dipped them beneath the water. It pooled, slipped between your fingers and immediately created a small little pool in the palm of your hands; allowing you to scoop it up and for water to splash over your face. Given how cold the water felt, it was refreshing in a sense and you ached to remain here for the remainder of the night; to sleep on the beach even! If only Connor's men did not reside just on the other side of this place. Despite the water was, it only proved to invite you in further, even though your skin and nipples prickled in response. A part of you couldn't help but allow your gaze to drift over to the Aquila, who sat just by the docks, unmoving though looking upon you like you'd gone mad. Maybe you had, but if this is what madness felt like? Then you weren't opposed to the feeling at all. The Aquila had always been a proud ship, strong, beautiful and you understood why Faulkner or even Connor took such pride in it. Almost every day you saw the two men down by the docks, repairing it, sending it off for another adventure which usually took a couple months at most.

It made your mind wander to Connor, the Captain himself. How mysterious he felt at times, how handsome he was that it made you ache with want and desire; it made you feel filthy with how often you thought about him. Some days, you considered confiding in some other women here; to see if they too, felt the same desire you felt toward Connor. Of course, Ellen spoke well of him, though said that she hadn't the time for a man, which was understandable, of course. It just made your want for him only increase however, purely because you wished that Connor had the same amount of time you could happily give him.

A soft sigh left your lips as you sat down so that the water enveloped around your shoulders, covering your naked frame while you found yourself lost in thought. Thoughts that led, as always, back to him. Some would call you a fool for even trying, maybe because Connor seemed so.. far out of reach. That he wouldn't have time for somebody like you - that you were simply a nobody in his world of problems. In all honesty, your whole life of romance felt that way. How often you found yourself daydreaming for some adventure, for somebody to literally sweep you off your feet and give you some kind of experiance you'd never forget. Connor seemed the kind of man, but frankly, you were far too awkward to actually pursue anything in regards to fulfilling that sort of daydream. Connor was a busy man, you knew that, damn, everywhere here on the Homestead knew that, and yet that feeling still-

A noise suddenly emerged from behind you. A soft thump of feet hitting the ground, it wasn't soft, no, it was hard enough in a way that the person wanted you to know they were there. It made you turn so quick that your neck got whiplash, scanning the entirety of the treeline just behind you. Somebody was out here and that feeling you felt earlier? It slapped you back across the face in a stark reminder of how careless you truly were, how you should've reacted to that feeling as soon as it emerged within your gut. Some pervert was out there, watching you and he wanted you to know that.

By now, your heart was thumping so hard against your ribcage that it was making it impossible to breathe, to hear even. The only noise emerging was the sound of your own bloodstream as you focused hard out on the treeline. Myriam, maybe? Did she usually hunt this late? Or just an animal, it had to be an animal of some sorts; just please not a bear.

On instinct, you hugged yourself. You weren't sure what the point was, naked or not, if a bear was going to attack you, he'd do it regardless. Fight and flight attacked your entire system as your body froze up, looking around for some bright idea. To swim out further? That seemed the most logical idea, surely?

"Hello?" you pried the words out, you tried to feign confidence but a tremble emerged and it knocked down the act entirely. You were terrified, and rightfully so. A bear you could tolerate, one you could happily perish to, but if it were something else? Something else that had ill intentions, that wanted to play with you before taking your life? That, that is what shook you down to your core, only because you couldn't imagine a more cruller fate. Could they not at least wait until you weren't naked? To give you some dignity at least. "Show yourself!" Finally, you found the ability to shout, hearing your words twist and echo out into the woodland; almost as if they were mocking you.

And just as you were about to scamper out back onto the beach, to hastily dress yourself, a figure moved out from behind the treeline and it was there, some fabric caught in the shine of moonlight. A mixture of white and blue, a color that was so recognisable, you almost wanted to laugh.

"Connor?" you said his name like a prayer, only because it secretly was. You hoped in every fibre of your being that it was him, that the idea of him skulking in the shadows; it turned you on beyond belief. Only, the idea of a bear in comparison to Connor was laughable too, purely because the man reminded you of such animal. Large, terrifying, yet so kind when left undisturbed. So, if it was Connor, why was he here and why in the shadows? Lord, you must be going mad, or tired perhaps as you moved to step out from the water to fetch your clothes and call it a night. Why would Connor be here, and this late? It was laughable, just how pathetic you were for the man as you reached down for your skirts.

"I am sorry," a voice emerged from behind you and you almost jumped out of your skin, in fact, you did jump. You jumped with such shock as you scrambled to cover yourself, letting out a strained scream that hurt to produce as you looked upon Connor - who shamefully stepped out from the treeline. You watched as he looked upon you, then watched as he quickly reacted to your scream and quickly tried to find anything to look at that - well - wasn't you. His cheeks turned red almost instantly and while he struggled to find something to look at that wasn't your naked body, you tried to find the right words to scold him with.

"What were you doing out there?!" you had every right to scoop up a handful of sand and throw it at him, or even a pebble if it suited your fancy better. It's just, that was instinct. The thrill of knowing that he was watching you for what felt like.. minutes? It thrilled you, he had been watching you and no other. "Are you trying to frighten me to death!?"

Connor fumbled, his lips pursed as he adverted his gaze to anything that wasn't you - yet, the idea of not looking at you felt rude. He'd always been one to hold eye contact when speaking to anyone; what should he do now? He'd been caught red handed and of course, he did not blame your reaction in the slightest. His gaze flickered from you, to the grass beneath his feet, back at you, the Aquila, back at you and your breasts before then to his hands.

"I apologise, I had no intentions of-"

"No intentions?! You were watching me! You.. why.. why was you watching?!"

Your fumbling was embarrassing, only because you were no actor. You were trying so hard to show some sort of emotion that wasn't arousal, that wasn't desire, especially when you caught his lingering looks. No doubt your cheeks were bright too, probably bright enough to illuminate your whole nakedness, allowing him to only look upon you further.

The flurry of attacks your word presented him with were only enough to embarrass him further as he shot his chin up, only to shoot it back down; forgetting completely that you were, indeed, naked. It was a good question, one he couldn't answer. Why was he watching? Why was he here? Was it because he was just another, wandering soul who couldn't sleep? There was no point coming up with an excuse, there was none and the guilt presented itself upon his features within an instant. Connor had never wished to become that kind of man, and yet, indirectly, he had.

"I apologise, I did not mean to wish you discomfort. I did not.. expect to see you here." Could you blame him? The man was curious, probably question what kind of mad woman done this? And knowing how many folk tales Faulkner had fed him; he probably thought you were some kind of.. woman in the ocean - one of those women with a fish tail and who could lure a man to his death. Oh, Connor was so foolish, so much so, that you felt some sort of pity toward him. You could tell he hadn't meant it, not really, and you wished that you had approached this entire situation differently now.

Just his presence alone made you writhe, not in discomfort, quite the opposite. There was an ache of desire you had felt before, an ache that became impossibly hard to ignore - much like the way he also writhed beneath your own gaze. The look of regret came off him in waves and slowly, you gave out a soft sigh.

"No, I.. I am at fault, I understand your curiosity. It was just.. dreadfully warm and.." you paused, should you confide in such a secret? A secret you had sworn to keep to yourself. Well, what was the point hiding it any further? Connor has discovered you and you were thankful he had done. "I do this, frequently.." you trailed off, a sudden pang of nervousness swallowing you whole. Could you quickly dive back in the water and just self-drown yourself right there and then? From beneath half lidded eyes, you studied him, his posture and body language. You watched, as close as you could beneath the night sky, just how hard he tried to not look upon you. He was doing that nervous thing he always did, fiddle with his own fingers while he tried to find some sort of reason as to why he had to suddenly leave - not because of how hard he'd just become.

"I did not know," he choked out, now half-turning his body so he could look off toward the Aquila instead. His intentions were pure, you knew it, only why was he looking away now? He had been watching you for some time now, even that was obvious enough.

"Well, no, it was a secret," you huffed, tucking a strand of your damp hair behind your cheek. A silence settled between the two of you, a silence you so wished to break; even if it meant Connor were to suddenly demand that you were to never do this again. Not that he ever would. His fingers curled up in the palm of his hand before they uncurled.

"I will leave you in your own company," he announced and before he could even finish his own sentence, he was turning on his heel. To go where? He wasn't sure, somewhere where he could reel with his own emotions and feelings towards the whole event. At the announcement of his departure, you felt your entire heart lurch. It dropped down to the pits of your stomach and suddenly, you quickly shot a hand out.

"Wait! Connor, wait, I.." you stumbled over words. Not just because you were a flustered mess, but because he actually paused mid-step. He lingered, swayed and from where you stood yourself; on the beachline bathed in nothing but the light of the moon, you knew he wanted to stay. No, you could not blame him. He were a man after all, men had desires, much like you did and it had been awful long time since you felt the touch of a man. It had been an awful long time since a man had given you an orgasm, which was a surprise itself. Connor though? He just looked like the type of man that could.

Well, that was despite his awkwardness. In fact, each time you found yourself looking upon him, he always seemed the kind of man who.. had never slept with a woman at all. How could you assume? Well, you weren't, it was just an inkling, a gut feeling if you will. If anyone skipped out on an opportunity to fuck this man, then they were missing out, he was gorgeous. More than gorgeous, he was beautiful - for a man. And with how this moment unfolded itself before you, you couldn't help but feel as if it were nothing but a sign from the universe. That, maybe, you were supposed to stumble upon him; or vice versa. Did he feel the same pull, the same temptations? Given how much time he spent away from the Homestead, when was the last time he relaxed? The last time he felt someone touch his body and make him feel good?

Before you plucked up any further courage, you took a fleeting moment to clear your throat. It had been a hot minute since you outwardly flirted with someone, with a man who was the pure image of sex appeal.

"Why don't you stay with me?" Just saying that out loud made your skin prickle, it made your nipples harden as you felt your top teeth catch the bottom of your lip. Connor remained unmoving and silent, which made you regret your words instantly. Maybe he just wasn't interested like that, or that you weren't good looking enough for him? Lord above, what was you doing? Why had you said that? And was it now too soon to backtrack.

And when a chuckle was ripped from your lips, you knew that maybe you were just going mad. This could all be a dream, so why regret? Connor did not seem the kind of man to care, that he would probably thank you for the offer and then leave without uttering a word to anyone, so why worry? So, with that thought in mind, you waved a hand almost as if to dismiss the situation entirely. The night was still young and you so yearned to continue enjoying it. Turning on your heel, you allowed your feet to guide you back to the ocean. Each gentle rock of a wave lured you in as you took cautious steps back into the water, allowing it to envelop you before you swam back out. It was cold, not in a bitter way, but a more reassuring way as you cupped your hands and brought a small portion of the water up to wet your hair. Whether Connor still lingered or not, you found nor the time or care to ponder on it any further. If he so wished to join you, then you laid the offer out flat for him before you turned and continued with what you had originally came here for.

The sound of the environment around you consumed you in a warm bubble. The gentle sway of the trees around you, the bubble of water as waves rolled in a lazy motion that felt befitting for a night as such. The world felt so small around you, so quiet save from an occasional hoot of an owl, a howl from a wolf out further past the forest. So simple, so welcoming, you wished for it to never end. Then came the crunch of sand, slowly, foot moving cautiously as your ears strained to hear the sounds emerging from behind you. Fear did not consume you, as it began to churn slowly into excitement at whose crunch of feet they belonged to? Had Connor taken up your offer? You shan't turn, you couldn't dare, because you were worried that if you did, he'd skitter off like some raccoon caught stealing scraps.

The steps paused. Then came the removal of clothing, straps being tugged off slowly and dropped onto the sand before. A shuffle of fabric, buttons being freed and the mental image of Connor undressing behind you made your heart race. You could feel it, drumming against your ribcage as the two of you remained quiet. And it wasn't awkward, not for you, for him perhaps, but he continued until the last article was discarded and soft splashes beat behind you until one louder than the last and then silence.

A beat of silence, then another.. then another.. and then you couldn't wait anymore. You shot around to scan the beachline one again. You noted the pile of your clothing, placed neatly on a rock side and folded with care. Then, just a few spaces beside it, a messy crumple of fabric. The flash of blue and white was not hard to miss, his robes which were so recognisable, the need to look upon them again would only be a waste of time. Though, while you scanned the beachline, the only thing that caught your surprise was the complete lack of Connor. You were certain you heard him, his clothes were evidence of that and so were the marks in the sand, so where had he gone? It was impossible for him to disappear of the face of the earth, for that made no sense at all. While you wracked your mind with all kinds of endless possibilities, a swirl of water suddenly hit the back of your thighs. There was no time to react, no time to turn and hope that no beast lay in the waters with you; for suddenly something - or rather, someone - wrapped the palms of their hands around the front of your legs.

A touch so human startled you at first, almost earning a scream to emerge from your throat as you span around to see, emerging from the water, Connor. His skin looked so beautiful under the moonlight, ever more now that it glistened with water and his hair that once looked so soft and kept, hung loosely just above his shoulders. Droplets of water began to fall freely from the wet strands as he allowed the bottom half of his body to remain beneath the water - was he shy? Was he truly nude like you were?

"Connor," you let a soft, breathless chuckle pass your lips. It was difficult to think straight, especially given how and where he touched you, given how close he were that you could almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His beautiful, dark skin, with equally beautiful eyes which looked up at you longingly. Had he always looked at you in such a way? Or was it because your breasts were so close to his face that he was trying hard to not let them wander; it must explain why his hands felt so hot to the touch.

"You scared me," you admitted with another chuckle, your fingertips itching to reach out and touch him. To run the palms of your hands over his shoulders, to brush his wet hair back to further admire his handsome face.

"I'm sorry," his voice came hoarse, perhaps from holding his breath to swim your way while his hands continued to touch. They were soft, featherlight as they could be beneath water. It was a subtle ask for consent, not wanting to push further until you explicitly allowed it. Without much delay, your hands covered his own and there, you guided them up toward your hips. His hands were so large that they swallowed your hips up, thumb pressing against your hipbone while his other fingers twitched on each cheek of your bottom. The water - that once felt cold - now felt warm and with how your clit seemed to pulse with a thrill was enough to make you already breathless; eager for some friction.

"I could not decline such an invitation," finally, finally, his eyes fell to your breasts. It was a silent plea of his own, peeling his gaze away to glance back up at you again. A yearning you had not yet felt before began to coil in your stomach, down to the simple way he looked upon you and you could've sworn the look he graced you with were pure sin itself. The both of you knew that it wasn't just an invitation to swim, that you ached for him between your legs as much as he did.

"Are you asking me or commanding me?" you asked finally, referencing to his eyes and a small smile braced each corner of his lips. Why did he have to bother to answer? You knew, he knew, so why the delay?

Without much warning, Connor stood and as he did, his hands hooked beneath your thighs to lift you with him. Watching his muscles flex before you felt like a treat, but feeling them beneath the palm of your hand? It was even better, so much so, that you took a fleeting moment to squeeze his upper arm; feigning innocence with a sly smile. As soon as he brought you up and above the water, he stood. Not having the cover of water made your skin prickle instantaneously, but with how close your chest was pressed against his, it allowed his warmth to seep into you and you savoured it with no hesitation. Being this close to Connor felt something out of a dream and admittedly, he thought so too, feeling as if this were some kind of dream while he continued to study your face with almost amazement. The soft red that settled beneath the skin of your cheeks made his own heart hammer, with excitement or anxiety; he wasn't sure. Just being close to you was at intimate as intimate could get, and yet the both of you were certain that this was just the beginning.

Words weren't needed. They would waste time and you were impatient. Instantly, your fingers curled into his hair and lips pressed against each other with such ferocity that it were more teeth than flesh. Connor tasted exactly how you imagined he would taste, a hint of sweetness that mixed beautifully with his saliva. There was no denying that a simple kiss stirred him on more than you anticipated, feeling the sheer length of his cock brush and twitch against your thigh in a motion that was all too graceful for a penis. As lips collided with one another and fought a battle of tongue and teeth, Connor moved, the water cascading and parting between the large thighs of his own until the two of you reached the shoreline again.

Only, he did not place you on the sand - something you were greatly thankful for, as you hated the irritable feeling of sand in all the wrong places - instead, he placed you down on the small bundle of rocks that littered alongside the far right of the shoreline. Much like the two of you, the rocks were glossy with moisture, though frightfully cold as he placed you down to look upon you.

To just stare upon you felt like a blessing in itself. A privilege he felt he did not deserve. The moon complimented you in all the right ways and so did the cold, given how his hand reached out so that this thumb could gingerly roll your perked up nipple. The sensation was enough to make your hips roll almost uncontrollably, clit throbbing for some attention. Throughout the whole process of him lifting and carrying you, his gaze did not falter from your own. Even while he stood before you, gently massaging your nipple, he did not look away once, committing each reaction he pried from you to memory.

His thumb continued to roll for a couple more seconds before finally, you peeled your legs apart and revealed the expanse of your cunt to him. It was difficult to tell whether your folds glistened from the water or your liquids; but just the sight alone made his breath falter and stagger. If beauty could be a picture, it would be your naked body laid and spread out for him on the rock side. A part of Connor did not wish to ever forget this, a part of him deeply hoping that perhaps this would become a nightly routine between the two of you.

"You're beautiful," the words flew out of him in a whisper as he leant down to brush the tip of his nose against your navel, sucking in a sharp breath to relish in your scent. You would smelt like the sea, salty with a touch of your own scent that was oddly like lavender. The ghost of his breath was warm as he ghosted his lips across your lower torso, leaving you to writhe only more. It was hard to decipher whether he were teasing or cherishing, either way, you were desperate for something that involved some sort of penetration.

Connor took his sweet time just worshipping your body. To feel how you reacted as he touched you gently with fingertips; beginning on your thighs before tickling down to your inner thigh. The way your breath would stutter, the way you would writhe or rock your hips up, it was sweet. He could bask in these reactions, letting them boost his ego just a little as he took his sweet time to touch you everywhere except where you yearned for him most. Finally, you grew impatient and you could've swore a groan ripped from your throat as you pried your head up from the rock to shoot him eyes; soft at first before they become hard with need.

"Please," you began in a fragile whisper. The idea of begging him, of showing him how vulnerable and full of want you were felt exposing; it was embarrassing in all the right ways. And you loved it, you loved how you could've sworn his head tilted in the darkness of the night upon hearing you plea for him, how the gentle caress of his fingers paused while he savoured that picture perfect look upon your face. While you wished to voice the rest of your want, the sudden pause in his movements made your lips purse; a wave of embarrassment flooding over you more than the idea of being so exposed to him. Had you said something wrong? Or was you foolishly speaking out against some sort of rule Connor had unknowingly established before the two of you?

"Why did you stop?" his words made the whirlwind inside your mind pause abruptly. "I did not tell you to."

Within seconds, it felt as if your mouth went dry and all you could muster up was a weak nod. Then, not wanting to make him wait any longer, you began again.

"Please, please.. just.. give me.." it was hard to voice what you truly wanted - only because it looked as if Connor could give you anything if you flashed him a little look here and there. His thumb toyed between the line that connected your thigh and Holden's crease, letting his thumb draw closer to your clit before pulling it away; clearly not satisfied in your feeble attempts at pleading.

Connor shook his head again. Then, he pushed himself down so he could press his cheek against the inner of your knee. He savoured how damp you felt, how soft you felt, before turning his chin so that his lips could press a gentle kiss to the skin. His lips were warm and you could've sworn that in its place, your skin tingled in anticipation. A part of you still couldn't believe it were happening, though with how your body seemed to react, with how real he felt - it was. It truly was real and Connor was here, trying to withdraw soft pleas from between your lips.

"Use your words."

The way he spoke to you wasn't unfriendly, yet it held an authoritative tone. The same kind of tone he would use on people when his mind was focused on one thing and one thing only; victory, redemption, freedom. Only, with you, what was it he wanted? His command was so simple and yet, you felt your mind so blank. Use your words and for what?

"I.." you fumbled, then squeezed your eyes shut to try and think. What was it you truly wanted and did he so wish for you to list them right here - and now? Given how desperate you were, it felt like torture, only, Connor wanted you to feel that way. "I want you to touch me," you admitted finally, waiting for the hot flush to part from your cheeks before you could look at him. It was dark and frankly, you could barely make out his face but if he turned a certain angle; the moon would frame his sharp features beautifully. Down from his chiselled jaw, sharp cheekbones and wet lips. His touch did not linger further, which was only a tell-tale sign that he wanted to hear more. "And I want you to.. to make me feel good."

From where you lay, you saw his chest rise as he inhaled a sharp intake before slowly he exhaled. It was like he held his breath for a moment, to try and not do something that would end this so quickly. The night was still so young, and Connor had full intentions to make the most of it as much as he can. With that thought lingering in his mind, he moved to finally allow you the sensation you craved. His thumb brushed reverently against your clit, so gentle and featherlight that he might as well have not touched at all as you desperately bucked your hips up for some more pressure. While your hips bucked, his thumb moved. He trailed his thumb down, gently between your folds, just enough to dampen his finger before bringing the pad of his thumb back up. Now wet with your own want, he allowed it to wet your clit while rolling gently in soft sensations. His thumb would rotate between soft and hard, giving you the pressure you craved before taking it away from you instantaneously; a soft reminder of what position you were in.

While he gave your clit some attention, it lasted only moments before he followed the same movement as before. Allowing his thumb to slide down between your folds, scooping up your essence once again; only this time he removed his thumb entirely. You watched the shadow of his outline move, bringing his hand to his lips before letting his thumb fall into his mouth. He sucked, letting your taste give him enough to wet his taste buds for more before he removed his thumb entirely. Honestly, it was hard to decide what thrilled you more. The idea of Connor making you beg, him touching you, or how desperate he seemed to taste the sweet juices you produced at the thought of all of this altogether.

The sweet sounds his mouth produced from suckling on his thumb alone thrilled you, but when he suddenly moved to thrust your legs up so he could connected his lips to your cunt? Well, the sounds he produced there only became filthier. His lips sloppily making out with your folds in such a way that it felt as if he were starved, his head moving in a rhythm between left and right to ensure no piece of your flesh left untouched. The sudden shock of his head being between your legs and his tongue attacking your cunt with such speed made you gasp, hands immediately moving to fist digits into strands of his hair. Your attempts at trying to make him slow down were useless.

Connors tongue felt trained against your clit. The pad of his tongue lapping at it like some hound before he allowed his tongue to slip between the slit, then back up to trail the tip of his tongue in a circular motion against your clit. Trying to find something to focus on other than an orgasm was painful, it made your head hurt; only you couldn't let this stop. It was almost like his head belonged and his tongue was created for the pure design of chasing you to your high. Lord above, it was working. So much so, that you were mumbling incoherent things between soft whines and cries that he managed to pry from you.

Soon enough, his tongue found a steady rhythm the both of you seemed to like. With him suckling at your clit while you essentially bucked your hips up into his face; face fucking him beyond comprehension. If it were possible to suffocate on pussy, Connor was about to. Especially given how hard you were forcing his head down, chasing your high with not an ounce of care. And Connor couldn't care less, his fingers creating soft crevasses in your thighs as he squeezed them for extra security; relishing in each sound that blessed his ears.

It didn't take long to feel an orgasm fast approaching. The coiling in your lower stomach, the fluttering of your walls. And before you could even open your mouth to give a warning, a signal - not that it was needed, Connor already knew - it washed over you within seconds. The feeling of this one particular orgasm left your body tingling. It washed over your like a wave of heat, feeling your body thrust as you desperately tried to pry Connor's mouth away from your cunt. It was an orgasm no man had ever given you, leaving you to cry out into the night as your fingernails dug into his scalp. The sheer pleasure twisted, from a beautiful, mouth-watering experience, to one where you were trying to peel his face away. Pleasure washed into overstimulation, almost as if he were mocking you on for another orgasm in a manner that felt all too controlling. Only, how could you complain? If this man so wished to leave you reeling from orgasm until orgasm until orgasm, then so be it.

And just as Connor had you teetering onto the edge of your orgasm, as he had your mouth wide open in sharp gasps that made your chest tremble; he suddenly withdrew his lips and head in one sharp motion. In the light of moon, you saw his sharp features illuminate once again. Only this time, his cheeks were accompanied with a tone of red that complimented his complexion well, his eyes were half-lidded, he were gasping for breath as heavily as you were at this point and sure enough - just there, taunting you - was a trail of saliva connecting from his bottom lip to your cunt.

While the two of you took a moment, you recovering from a body shaking orgasm, and him trying to catch his breath from near suffocation; all you two could do was look at one another. It was intimate, more intimate than ever while he raised his hand to wipe his bottom lip gingerly with the back of his hand. Then, his hands found your thighs. Only, this time, he caressed them gently, a gentle apology for squeezing so hard - which they were surely to bruise.

A silence settled. Even the ocean behind him had gone quiet, as had the forest and honestly? The urge to giggle almost consumed you. Why? You weren't sure, but you bit it back with the bottom of your lip as you laid your head back gently on the rock below. The rock beneath was not all that comfortable, but in this moment of time, you could not care. Having the open sky before you while you calmed from your orgasm was different than your ceiling. Just as the idea to close your eyes and doze off there emerged in your head, it was soon gone with Connor's gentle touch atop your hand - which rested just above your navel.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently. His voice so soft and hoarse, it could've been enough to melt butter. Relishing in his voice, in the high, you closed your eyes and finally allowed the sleepy giggle to slip from your lips. If any other man had heard this, they would have taken offence, only Connor took some comfort in it. While it wasn't a direct answer, it was one that filled him with satisfaction.

"Am I alright?" you echoed his question back to him, head reeling in all the right ways. You could've sworn everything were tingling, down to your toes, clit, fingertips and lips. Having a man like Connor that could provide such an orgasm with his lips alone felt unbelievable and now you were ever so curious to see just how much his cock could also provide. It had only struck you now that Connor seemed just the kind of man to provide. To ensure you were comfortable, happy and honestly; you made a mental note to probe him about what you two were after this whole ordeal concluded. Not that you wanted it to. If you could, you'd ride his face until dawn and even then, you could still not truly be satisfied.

"More than alright," you hummed finally, not wanting to break the small moment to two of you had. The man shuffled up a little so that he took refuge between your legs, hips hovering though you were no fool; you could feel the thickness of his cock brush against your inner thigh. Almost the same way his fingers had done only moments ago. The touch made you shiver, back almost arching in some desperate attempt to feel him further. Just by the gentle brush of his cock on your thigh alone, you already had an inkling this man carried some sort of weight. His cock feeling so lengthy, so girthy; pure meat honestly. If he were to fuck you, would it fit? Either way, you'd endure whatever pain to allow him to pound into you until you were a drooling mess.

As his entire body now loomed over your own, the size of Connor swallowed you whole and blocked your vision of the sky above. The moon no longer illuminated small fractions of his face, giving your eyes the chance to adjust to the darkness. Instinctively, you reached out to trace fingertips against the line of muscle. Appreciating how his stomach curved and dipped with his abs, how pronounced his chest was; giving him bigger tits than you.

Connor's large hands were splayed on either side of your head as he cradled you and from where you lay, you saw the turmoil on his face. Saw how his brows furrowed gently, how something he wished to voice sat on the tip of his tongue. Frankly, it made your heart ache a little; was he now having regrets? Quickly, you moved your hand to cup his cheek. A silent offer that you loved him, that you appreciated him and not just for his body. For his mind, for how kind he had been to not only you, but to everyone who resided here on the Homestead.

"What is wrong?"

Connor leant into your touch, nuzzled into the warmth of your palm.

"It is nothing," he responded in his own whisper before he then turned his cheek to press a kiss in the middle of your palm. "I am just appreciating you." Lord, his words made your heart flutter, it made your cunt flutter and quickly, you pursed your lips before wetting them with your tongue. How you wished you could reciprocate the feeling, how you wished you could wag your tongue and make him blush like he had done with you. Then, Connor allowed himself to sink down onto his elbows and it was there his hips connected with yours; allowing you feel his cock that now brushed up against your slit. The touch made you shiver, oh, what a man.

The back of his index finger brushed gently against the side of your temple, scooping some strands of your hair away from your face and burying them back into your hairline. Granted it were dark, you could still feel the appreciation on his gaze alone. How each of his eyes flickered between yours, how his mouth parted a little while he battled between wanting to kiss you or just fuck you beyond meaning. His silence, for once, did not bring much reassurance. A part of you convincing yourself that he were having second thoughts.

"Then why are you so silent?" finally, you worded your own thoughts. A silence settled, simmered, and then Connor lowered his head so that he could press his lips against the line of your jaw. The kisses were soft at first, the same sort of kisses one would receive from a butterfly.

Connor did not answer your question. Not straight away at least while he continued to press feather light kisses against your skin. His whole body was so warm as he covered you like a blanket, causing your own arms to slither up and around his neck. As your own eyes fluttered shut, just relishing in his lips alone; it was there his head moved. He took his time to not leave any part of your head unmissed, a kiss on your jaw, beneath your jaw, under your ear, then up to your temple, the tip of your nose. Then, when you were both face to face; he paused.

Having his face so close almost earnt a whimper to slither out between your lips. With him so close, you could feel his breath fan out against your own lips and there, you lifted your head just a little so that the tips of your noses touched. For a split second, so quick you hadn't had noticed, he recoiled. Almost like some part of his assassin instinct kicked in, that he assumed you'd headbutt him and slash at his throat while you had the chance. The ruthless years he spent training had been engrained in his head, making him cautious and weary of everyone and everything. The flinch - or more jerk - made your heart drop and just as you went to question it, just as you opened your mouth, his head dove down and his lips connected with your own. Finally having that connection made everything feel right, that this was right and all your previous worries melted away as your lips moved in synch with his own.

As his tongue slipped out to grace your bottom lip in a gentle lick, you could taste yourself on him. A sweet taste that remained on your own tongue. A taste so sweet that it reminded you of the nights you'd sneak a sweet treat down in the pantry of your mothers kitchen. It was no surprise Connor was fine with suffocating himself just to lap at your pussy for a little longer. Only, this sweet treat had turned not into something you could hold in your hand, but the form of a man who was now needlessly rocking his hips against your own while he swallowed up each sound that slipped from you with his mouth. His cock slithered between your folds like it belonged, only submerging and coating the shaft of his cock in your essence. Given how wet you were, his cock rocked back and forth with ease, which allowed his head to stroke your clit gently each time he pushed his hips upward. It felt taunting and as much as you wanted to voice your concerns - to beg for him again, even - his mouth kept your own preoccupied.

And then just as you felt you were about to run out of air, he pulled his lips up sharply with a rough exhale before moving to attack at your neck. His lips were sloppy, equally as wet as his cock was while he mouthed open kisses against your skin, using his tongue to glide across your pulse line and up to your jawline before he nibbled gently on the lobe of your ear. This man was going to make you orgasm again, you were certain of it, from the way he kissed you, the way his cock would press roughly against your clit - it was driving you mad. You wanted nothing more than to lift your hips, to let him bury himself in your cunt and fill you with his warm seed until you were both spent and curled up in one anothers arms.

With one last kiss on the bottom of your ear, you felt his cheek nuzzle up against the side of your head. His lips were positioned just beside your ear, gracing you with his beautiful, strangled sighs while he fought his own urges. Urges that made him tremble, that made his brows twitch in ecstasy. Then, finally, he spoke;

"Please.." his voice was barely audible over the sound of yourself, "please, please.. allow me this.."

Connor sounded so pathetic that if it wasn't for the haze you found yourself in, you'd been struck with confusion. This was the same man? The same man that would avoid your glances, that would glance at your lips when speaking to him? Goodness, it had been there all along. His want, his need, his yearning, and you had been as blind as he had been. Only, with how stupidly he purred words of want in your ear, it was evident that Connor was a man of needs himself. It was beautiful and in spite of your own cravings, you wished to torment him for a couple more moments just to hear more words of pleas bless your ear. It was in this moment, you knew just how much of a lucky women you truly were. Just your pussy alone had this man trembling, you had him wrapped so tightly around your finger that the opportunity to not abuse it would be utterly ridiculous.

"Please," there was a press of his lips, "please," his voice was strained now, probably because the head of his cock felt as sensitive as your clit. There was another kiss, his actions becoming sloppy enough to tell you that you shan't waste time any further. Before Connor could utter more pleas, you turned to capture his lips against your own. It was more teeth than lip, though you couldn't care, not even if he could've knocked your front tooth out and sure enough; you were moving your legs to secure them around his hips. That was all the approval Connor needed, allowing him to sink his fingers back toward your underside to give him some more leeway while with the next roll of his lips; he allowed his cock to slide in. The motion was satisfying, especially given how slick you were and how you'd coated his cock.

Just having his cock push up inside you felt like heaven. It couldn't compare, actually. No other man had made your head reel, no other man had a cock as large as Connors. The whole thought of whether this was a dream or not crossed your mind, however the it diminished as soon as Connor bottomed out until what was left connecting the two of you were just hip against hip. Given how large he was, he made you feel full, stretching you out in way that left you reeling - and frankly? Sore. And while you wished he would give you a moment, he could not and soon enough his hips were grinding against your own.

Pain mixed with pleasure beautifully as he pushed himself up on his hands once again, giving him the space to speed up if that was necessary. Right now, he was content with slowly punishing his hips against yours. A subtle roll as his lower stomach rolled your pubic bone and clit in a motion that felt far too experienced for him alone. Now that he had sat up, the moon illuminated his features; allowing you to admire him from below as he furrowed his brows and clenched his jaw in some weak attempt at not reaching his own high so soon. Just as he had looked before, the moon complimented his features and it was there you truly admired him. Features so beautiful, with strands of his hair - that had since dried - now falling over the curvature of his shoulder.

If Connor so wished to remain buried in you and unmoving - just so that you could look upon him? You would have no complaints. Only right now, it was apparent what he wanted and the feeling was just as mutual.

Soon enough, the steady rhythm he created began to speed up, allowing for skin to smack against one another, a small secret the two of you intended on keeping with nothing but the watchful look of the moon and stars above the two of you. Fucking him here felt right, fucking him in general even more so as you pressed your nails into the skin of his shoulders - focusing on how his cock stroked each part of your insides with such efficiency that it felt natural. That one beautiful vein that protruded beneath the skin of his shaft acted as some sort of ribbing for pleasure, feathering you slowly to another orgasm as he continued to pump his hips against your own.

The noises that emerged from Connor were filthy, so much so, you pursed your lips to silence yourself just so that you could selfishly cherish them for a few moments longer. Strained grunts emerging from between grit teeth, his head occasionally cocking to the side to watch you take him as beautifully as you were currently doing now. The sound of his balls slapping against your behind echoed around you, conjoining with the noises that both poured out of you.

Soon enough, Connor grew impatient. Your pussy hugged his cock so well that if he were to continue at this pace, he'd fill you far sooner than he wanted. Therefore, he pushed himself back so that he balanced on his knees. His hands collided on the underside of your thighs, guiding one of your legs up and over his shoulder just so that he could thrust up into you at a better angle than the one prior.

Better angle was an understatement. Connor was thrusting up into you with such ferocity that you were sure he were borderline bruising your cervix, leaving you reeling on the rock beneath him. With how he held you, you could've sworn you were melting into some sort of jellified mass. Legs becoming nothing but a tingling sensation as you tried to find some sort of focus that wasn't how well he fucked you. Though, granted, at the position he sat in, you saw the full extent of his naked chest and it was even better than you imagined.

"Connor," his name slipped out of you in a warning, a warning that if he didn't slow, that if he didn't falter any time soon; you'd be coating his cock and your thighs in liquids that coiled in your lower stomach. What this man was incapable of, was mind boggling. It seemed he was good at anything. Sailing, fighting, heavy lifting, killing, talking, fucking. Now the possibilities of where the two of you could fuck was endless - if he wished to fuck you again that was. Would he take you aboard the Aquila and ruin you there? In his Captain's quarters perhaps, with that outfit that fit him meretriciously while he rammed you from behind until you were nothing but a slurred mess.

As you spluttered and whined his name, the punishing rhythm he presented to you faltered a moment.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton."

At first, a pang of confusion made your moment of bliss pause; unable to focus with his pounding while you tried to conjure up why and who that was. There was nobody here under that name, no, it didn't sound colonial enough. Was it a phrasing in his tongue? While his hips continued smashing up against your own, he leant forward once again - bending your leg in an angle that you felt it had not been capable of bending in. One hand moved beside your head to support his weight once again, then his thumb and index that belonged to the other pinched your chin.

"That is my name.." he spoke between pants, his breath fanning out across your skin. "Not.. not Connor.. Ratonhnhaké:ton." It was hard to focus on his words, though you longed to as you craned your head up; eager for a kiss. Only, Connor, or Ratonhnhaké:ton, did not bless you one. Instead, his thumb pushed up to hook around your bottom teeth - forcing your mouth open. "Say it," those two words came out in a grunt and you were certain he was going to cum, his movements becoming sloppier the second.

"Say my name."

As much as you wished to please, you frankly could not force yourself to even made an attempt. The mere thought of butchering it, bringing his name to shame - especially given how it flowed out of his own mouth so beautifully. Not wanting to ruin the moment, you wished to just purse your lips shut and shake your head in disobedience. With his thumb pressed in your mouth however, the notion of refusing was one that was a lost cause in itself.

"I'll guide you," he whispered, leaning in close and taking the advantage to only push himself up further - if that were even possible anymore, you weren't entirely sure. It already felt he were as deep as he could go, head of his cock punching your insides with each sharp thrust. Your second orgasm was spilling, lower stomach feeling so tight that you knew the words would come out in an incoherent mess. By now, you could already feel your mouth salivating, your drool coating his thumb while he continued on. "I know you can, can't you?"

"Yes, yes-!" the words came out muffled. Why or what you were saying yes for? It was unknown. Only because his cock now brushed up so lovingly against your g-spot that it was driving you wild. Your own fingernails buried so deep in the skin of his shoulder that if blood were to pool down, it would not come as a surprise at all.

"Come then," and while he spoke those words, you did. Your walls fluttering around his cock in a motion that felt it were spasming.

Immediately, both you and him were drenched in your essence. His cock, balls and your thighs while you quivered around him. Only, Connor did not stop, and neither did his thumb as he helped form the foreign words in your mouth.

"Raton~" was as far as you could give, head dizzy and eyes hazy from the orgasm.

"Good, good, you're almost there," he guided you and not just by his thumb, but by his words. "Raton-hnhaké.. you can say that?" God, the way he spoke to you. It made you feel stupidly good.

"Ratonhnhaké... Ratonhnnhng.." It was a game, his hips smashing up in you on purpose to throw you off. With a soft disgruntled sound emerging from you, it was there he cherished you with his laugh. Husky, just like his voice and instantly, every part of you craved to hear him chuckle more.

"Almost," he lulled in your ear. Then, he plucked his thumb from the inside of your mouth to wipe the remains of your saliva across your bottom lip - which honestly? Had gotten a little dry. "Ratonhnhaké:ton," he mumbled. His body and your own was covered in a sheen of sweat, but right now you couldn't care less. Not with the prospect that Ratonhnhaké:ton was about to fill you up with his cum. "Say it, for me? Please, please," he was getting desperate, his voice an octane higher as he began to chase his own orgasm - prioritising you over anything else.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton.. Ratonhnhaké:ton.." you spoke his name like a praise. It was a privilege to say it, despite how badly pronounced it sounded coming off your tongue. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't seem to care, the sound of his real name on your tongue making his body shiver and tremble. Then, suddenly, he pushed himself up and back on his knees. His hips stuttered and there, he forced himself out your tight cunt. Though, he did not pull all the way out, allowing the head of his cock to remain so that he could fill your entrance and get some satisfaction at watching his own seed leak out of your pretty pussy.

Ratonhnhaké:ton granted you full display of his body while he reached his orgasm, allowing you to watch as his face contorted and his lips parted; sweet mumblings of something in a tongue that wasn't English escaping from him. It felt like a show, one marked for your eyes only and if he didn't look good before - he looked even better spreading his warm seed up and down your slit while you both recovered from the orgasm. His seed was warm, coating your folds in an essence of your liquid and his own.

Once again, a silence settled over you. Your pulse calming, as did the frantic beating of your heart; which allowed you to focus on the environment around the two of you. The gentle sway of tree branches, the soft wave rolling in on the beach side. It was a moment to never wished to forget as Connor pulled himself away from you to take the spot on the rock by your side. The two of you laid beside one another, stomachs up toward the dark swirl of the night sky above.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," you tested his name in your mouth once again and from the corner of your eye, you watched as he turned to look at you. Each time his name, his real name would slip from your lips, he could've sworn his heart skipped a beat. Much like the sex, it was right, it belonged and finally, a soft smile stretched across his face. You could've sworn you had never seen him smile, then again, tonight was a night of many firsts for the two of you combined. "You will not share my secret? Nor.. speak of this to anyone."

As he watched you, he pushed himself up on his elbow. His brows furrowed, watching the way your lips moved while you spoke and before you could finish, his hand moved up to brush some hair back behind your ear.

"You have my word."

A grin tugged at the corner of your lips as you finally found the energy to sit up. The ache to wash yourself once again and free yourself of the sin you two had done began to feel overwhelming and quickly, you pushed yourself to your feet. Only, there was a wobble, a waver, and suddenly you collapsed down onto the sand below. Lord, you were thankful it had been the sand and not the unforgiving nature of the rock beneath skin. It had been.. rather uncomfortable enough to lay on. Regardless, the mere motion made Ratonhnhaké:ton shoot up. Not wanting to relish in the embarrassment, you waved a hand to dismiss his concern.

"I'm fine, truly."

Then, you half scooted, half dragged yourself to the shoreline before allowing your body to slither back into the ocean. You must've gotten so used to Ratonhnhaké:ton's warmth, because the sudden bitter shock of the cold water made you gasp. The night must've gotten colder, which only made you ponder what the time truly was. How long had the two of you been fucking? Either way, Ratonhnhaké:ton had been so good at it, that you forgot the idea of time altogether.

"Will you be joining me?" you called out over your shoulder, sinking back until your shoulders were submerged beneath the water. Seeing Ratonhnhaké:ton perched on the rock side like that, in his entirety and naked - it was a blessing. In fact, if you insisted, it only felt befitting to drop to your knees before him and worship the entire being he was. From where you floated, you saw the soft shake of his head and it was there he stood, moving quickly to submerge under the water.

The thrill of him swimming around you equalled to the same thrill of hiding around a corner; just waiting for him to emerge. Either by touch or sound. And soon enough, the same hands that had brought you to ecstasy moments ago, suddenly snaked their way on your waist, earning a surprised chuckle as you spun around. Ratonhnhaké:ton emerged from the water, hair wet, body sheen in the moonlight as he tugged you closer to him. Instinctively, your hands found his shoulders once again, body feeling a tug toward him in a way it never had done before. Just having him close on a night like this, it felt perfect. Had this all been real? And if so, then what were the two of you after this little adventure? If you could call it that to begin with.

For what felt the fifth time that night, your gaze landed upon his lips. There was an ache to kiss them, to really feel them and just as you moved your head closer to him, he suddenly turned so that you were presented with his cheek instead. The pain that shock through you was.. well, it hurt. Betrayal, confusion. Had you done something wrong, or were you simply misinterpreting this for something else? Had both of you different intentions. That, maybe for Ratonhnhaké:ton, this had been nothing but a simple fuck. A flash of shame swamped his features while he finally turned to look at you, noting the confusion, the hurt and it hurt him in the process. Admittedly, he had never meant for this to happen in the first place; yet it had.

"I'm sorry." What hurt more? His words? Actions, or the fact that he had fucked you and now seemed to show regret? Anger bubbled, it simmered in your bloodstream and now you wanted to do something. Splash him with water, storm off and sob until the night had been nothing but a wasted memory. Instead, you just allowed him the space to speak; only because the tugging urge that Ratonhnhaké:ton was not that type of man lingered in the back of your mind. His hand moved to take your own, turning it over to inspect your palm, dancing his fingertips up to press them against your own. His hand was larger, hands that were capable of killing whereas yours were capable of loving. Something he felt he lacked in.

"I am not the man you should love," he kept the gaze, trying to drill those words in your head, only you were just as stubborn as him. "I do not have the time, nor the care." A scoff emerged from you, it had came out in its own force as you smacked his hand away.

"And did you think the same on the rock over there?" you jerked your chin roughly and the way you spoke to him almost made him flinch. "Or did those thoughts cross your mind when you were inside of me, Ratonhnhaké:ton? Or shall I just call you Connor, considering that this.." you waved your arms around. "This! All of this, had been some misunderstanding!"

His hands caught your wrists and for the first time, he looked as if he could cry. His eyes glossing as he shot you with an apologetic look that could melt hearts and lord, it was working. His touch was working and you hated it. Hated him, hated everything right now. You had concluded that this man before you was some.. some demon, with the pure intention of meddling with girls hearts like your own.

"No, no, no," you tried to shake him off, creating ripples in the water from your frantic movements. Only, Ratonhnhaké:ton was stronger and his grip was firm, though not bruising as he tried to calm you.

"Please," his words were featherlight as he tried to catch your gaze. "I care for you." And as much as you wished to believe him, how could you? He'd just told you he didn't! That he had no time! So, you scoffed again and shot him a look of venom.

"Care? This is what you call care? Then you are incapable of such." Your words made him physically recoil, almost like he had been shot and now you felt wicked. You felt cruel, only because you knew that it were untrue. He had been the kindest, gentlest man you had ever had the privilege to have met.

"Then why do you think I came here?" A beat, just to allow you a moment of reconcile. "My loyalties lie with the people, the nation, that much is true. When it will be over? That, I do not know, but you are the one I wish to find when it does. That, that I swear to you." Ratonhnhaké:ton was good with his words. A bit too good as you stubbornly sucked at your teeth, your fight from moments ago dying within seconds as he kept a firm grip around your wrists.

"You expect me to wait for you?" Was all you could muster up and from the corner of your eye, you saw his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh. Perhaps he was truly asking for too much. That this had indeed been a misunderstanding, that he shouldn't have pursued this to begin with. Either way, Ratonhnhaké:ton had made many mistakes in his life and this one seemed far from one; albeit it he could've handled this a little differently.

"If you would be kind as to allow it, then yes," then slowly, he released your wrists and pressed a hand against your cheek. His thumb caressed your cheekbone lovingly and the urge to not slap him arose. "It is you I wish the time for. Only you."

Now it was your turn to sigh. How long was he expecting you to wait for? And what would the two of you do during said time of.. waiting? Would there be an end to his duty? Would this all be a secret? To be written out here on the rocks or in the ocean and sand? Or would he await for you at home after months of disappearing, holding flowers, pressing kisses against your skin that you ached for? As much as you wished to fight, to argue and make it known how much this really hurt, you simply couldn't. Especially given how he were looking at you.

The Homestead was a warm welcome, a nice change to your life that you needed. The people were kind, a kindness you felt you had not seen in years, one that helped soothe the ache in your mind. Ever since finding Connor, ever since he stopped you from wasting away, you found sanctuary here. The trees swayed to welcome you, the breeze carried a hint of the sea - salty, like cured venison. The Inn was always busy, but subconsciously, you fund yourself avoiding it.

Melancholy. That's what they called it, and the word felt right for how you felt. A melancholy feeling that would leave you aching for something in its replacement, to smile with minimal effort, to find a purpose in your life that wasn't just the simple act of trying to survive. For weeks, sleep granted momentary comfort - allowing you to forget your troubles, allowing you to forget the ache that settled in the pit of your chest. It was a sickness, to put it plain, like a seed that had laid itself within your body and no matter how hard you clawed at your skin - you were unable to remove it. It was odd, for your body did not feel weak, only your mind as you tried each day to battle an illness that left you almost paralysed.

The people here on the Homestead tried their best to help, to bring you distractions that did little to provide. It was nice though, to leave your home, to speak to people that wasn't your own reckless mind. Prudence let you herd the pigs, which was more humiliating than fun. Seeing her was a stark reminder of the life you could have. How unfair it felt, that she lived with a beautiful child, a caring husband. You were old enough now, you should be in the same situation as her, no?

Then Ellen allowed you to pay her a visit. Teaching you how to measure, how to sew, she allowed you to sweep at her porch while she spoke. That provided a good distraction, better than pig herding. Ellen had a knack for talking, about everything and anything. The woman consumed gossip like her mind and body relied on it. How could one have such patience?

Then, Father Timofey insisted you come to church. In his words, 'what could cure melancholy better, than a little faith?' If faith could've cured you years ago, it would've. The nights you begged, dropped down on your knees before your bed and prayed. Prayed to whoever would listen, whether it be God himself or an evil spirit that wished to fester and use your corrupt mind to its own sinful goods. Being at Church did not help much, but the song did, just a little.

Then there was the Inn, but you tried to avoid that. Losing yourself to drink would be going deeper down a dark hole you could barely climb yourself out of and the idea of everyone witnessing that in itself was shameful.

Myriam suggested you go hunting with her, but each time you met eyes with a dead rabbit or deer, you'd break down in tears that, frankly? Left Myriam uncomfortable. She'd never been able to comfort, just linger close by while you sobbed incoherent words about how unfair this life was, how they probably had a family waiting for them. Though, as you looked back on it; death seemed a kinder result to life.

Death had been something you considered a lot. Like sleep, really. Just close your eyes and rest, eternally, in a bed of flowers maybe? The appeal of being buried underground never suited your fancy, no. You wanted to pass in the comfort of your home, snuggled in blankets, with a cat on your chest perhaps? While the beast purred you to your eternal bed, to be welcomed by whatever entity was on the other side. Death had been a visible, knowing spirit in your life. Losing people you cherished most, and thus, losing yourself.

The night Connor found you, you were balancing and weighing your options. Between life and death. He found you on a cliffside, mumbling something incoherent that he couldn't understand. He stood by cautiously, hands held outward as he tried to coerce you into stepping back; into finding the beauty this life offered. He must've spoke to you for what.. felt like hours, though could have easily been mere minutes as you looked at the sea below. The ocean waved at you, lulling your name in a gentle song. It showed you how beautiful death could be, how you could diminish this sickness within mere seconds of free falling. You had always imagined what it felt like to fly, had always shown jealously to birds. Did they choose their own sense of direction? Or did it come naturally? Like for people born in a trade that would set them up for life. Or the people who had the energy to fight, like Connor was doing now.

If Connor hadn't had been there, on that cloudy and rainy afternoon, you would be certain that you would be dead. That the ocean would greet you with warm, welcome arms, that your body would simply drift out to sea to never be found again. It sounded.. a little romantic, but then again, so did the idea of Connor dragging you away from the cliffside with such ferocity that the two of you fall backwards. He cradled you in a way that you never had been, allowing you to wet his robes further with tears and snot.

Since that day, Connor had been a figure in your life that you felt you needed. He did not share your business, though insisted you stay and allow Lyle to treat you. Treat you how, you weren't sure, but staying on the Homestead helped a lot. Most, if not everyone, kept a watchful eye on you, though most days you remained in bed; unable to find anything to do with yourself. The cliffside by the docks called your name like a siren in the night and at some point, you became fearful that in your sleep, you'd walk there in nothing but your nightdress and allow yourself to fall the great height; this time without Connor being there to rescue you.

"Doctor, will I ever be freed of this? Will I ever find a love for life again? Had I been soured in the womb of my mother, oh, doctor, please.. please give me some answers, please put my mind at ease before I find unsanitary ways to do so myself." And while you begged at Lyle, with palms clasped together, he could only purse his lips. If only the answers he could provide you with be written down, if only he could soothe you at once with some calming remedy that did not consist of you sleeping and wasting such youth away.

"You must distract yourself with something," Lyle encouraged, peeling the last leech from your arm and dapping the blood that began to clot from the wound with a little piece of cotton. "There are many ways, for a young lady like yourself-" he would've continued, if only it weren't for your sour expression. Was that all you were worth? Being a young lady? To be pushed to a man for marriage, to birth children where they may have the same seed of rot and sick planted within them? That was cruelty, something only someone wicked would ever do. Were you wicked? Were you capable of holding that same wickedness?

And when Lyle left you, stepping out the room, he discovered Connor lingering nearby. His hands were held together, a motion to subconsciously comfort himself as he pushed himself up and out the chair that sat in the hallway just beside the room.

"How is she?" he pried the words out, though kept his voice a respectful tone as to not allow you to overhear.

"Sick, Connor. Utterly mad, honestly."

Only, with those words, Connor could not find himself understanding. Why such disdain? Why such a.. disliking to people such as yourself? Was there not a way to help, like the same herbs that Clan Mother could provide?

"And what do you propose we do?" his remark held the distaste on the tip of his tongue as he jerked his chin up, looking at Lyle from the bottom of his nose. He wasn't sure how it began, the overwhelming urge to protect you, on the cliffside perhaps? Either way, the idea of your mere suffering effected him too in ways he could not comprehend, in ways that felt suffocatingly overwhelming. At Connors sudden attitude, Lyle found himself cringing a little, not finding the confidence he once had to say what he wished to say.

"You, see, Connor.. with women like that.." Lyle stepped closer, dipped his head and lowered his voice. "They are utterly useless. If she wished to die, truly, then you'd be better at locking her in that room. Perhaps, such an act, would make her feel a small ounce of happiness. In the cities, women like her would get locked up and forgotten about."

His words disgusted Connor beyond belief. This is how colonial people treated one of their own? The mere idea of such.. such atrocities happening back in his own village, it sickened him. The support system he fought so hard here felt as if it were crumbling, merely because you were 'uncontrollable,' which they both knew wasn't the case. Connor recoiled a little, hands flexing in some attempt to feel something before clasping them together again. Despite the bluntness of Lyle's words, he couldn't help but feel thankful for them. That he laid it out straight rather than avoided the issue at hand; but would that mean you would feel this way for the rest of your life? That you would be stuck eternally lost?

"And so you wish to forget about her?" Connor shook his head in disbelief. "That she cannot be cured, that allowing her to remain in that room would somehow benefit her? No, it is wrong, and I will not stand by and allow it to happen." He waved a hand, dismissing the doctor entirely with a heavy sigh. Of course, he never meant to show such conviction, never wanted to show disrespect; only your troubled life indirectly troubled him. Seeing people suffer hurt, it hurt him so much that Lyle's words angered him beyond belief. If Connor had to show you how to love and cherish life again, then he would; even if it meant juggling other responsibilities.

So, with the next couple days, he went against Lyle's orders. It started with chats. How at first he would awkwardly linger by the door, so then seating himself in the chair beside your bed before sitting on the mattress entirely. The space between the two of you becoming thinner as he pried your worries, your concerns and took them upon himself. Why your own melancholy seemed to attract him, Connor did not know. Maybe because he had never been so hell-bent on wanting to fix something, that maybe, the way you spoke lured him in. Each word that wagged from your tongue making it sound like mere poetry.

The four walls of your room seemed to bother him more than you. The way each day would repeat itself, him sitting in your room while the two of you would talk about anything that came up - or you two would settle in silence and enjoy the soft creak or groan the manor would provide around the two of you. It's just, it grew tiresome, especially for Connor, a man who moved around a lot. How could this help anyone?

"Have you ever gone out to sea?"

Was that a touchy topic? He wasn't sure, but he regretted ever mentioning it. Only, the way you perked up a little and offered a small smile seemed to sway him into speaking more.

"Would you like to?"

"Oh, Connor, you would take me, you really would? You do not think I am too poorly, too sick? Would you look after me, Connor, would you?"

Prying the sheets off your frame, you found yourself crawling over to where he sat on all fours. Your nightgown hugged at parts he shouldn't look, forcing his gaze to meet your own as you came to kneel back on your calves just beside him.

Connor was so big. He filled the entirety of this room. A manor they said, it was humorous. There was nothing manor-like at all, not with Connor in its space. How those robes fit him was beyond disbelief, the very threads and seams looked stretched, trying to hold themselves together around his biceps and muscle. Reaching out, your fingertips touched lightly against the feather that hang from the decorative band around his bicep. The touch was so featherlight, you almost didn't seem like a human; like some angel instead.

"Would you take me, Connor, would you?"

Now he wasn't too sure. The sudden switch of your attitude made him almost writhe, the way you looked up at him from beneath lashes, the way you looked.. not like yourself at all. It was a good thing though, wasn't it? To perk up, to move around, to look at him like there was still some hope and life behind your iris'.

"If you would like to, it does not look so-"

You cut him off, lifting the feather up.

"Where did this feather come from? Did you kill the bird yourself, Connor? What did it feel like, to wrap your.. your hands around its throat, to squeeze with no life left, did it feel strange.. did the bird look upon you with remorse?" Allowing the feather to drop from your fingertips, you moved your hand to ghost a finger gingerly over the back of his hand. The gloves that covered his skin - up until his fingers - created a barrier, a barrier that felt intimate.

Your sudden change in topic made him bristle a little and his hand twitched beneath your touch. He wanted to reach out, to feel your featherlight touch against skin - to really feel it.

"Is it an answer you seek? Or something else?"

His gaze that had once been lowered down to your finger now slowly trailed up until he met your features. Your skin looked soft, though the heaviness of dark circles beneath your eyes carried your exhaustion. He wasn't sure when it was since you last ate a proper meal, but you were tiny in comparison to him, cheeks a little sunken in like a corpse and what he should've felt was remorse - or maybe disgust - was disguised in nothing but concern. The bluntness of his question made you grin, top teeth catching your bottom lip and for once, this grin did not hurt. It did not disturb that seed of hatred within you, nor make you lash out in violence. For the way Connor approached you, with how honest and blunt he was; it made you feel more welcomed than you ever had been, made you feel more human.

"Take me to sea, Connor."

-

And by the next morning, you found yourself on the Aquila. A proud ship that sailed beautifully in the wind, sails catching each breeze, allowing it to move with efficiency. The sea and ocean was better up close, though this time - you were alive. Your body, a living one, being carried by the wind rather than the sea on a journey that you had never set out before. The wind brushed your hair like a mother before you were sent off to bed, the saltiness reminding you of dinner, making you crave the human touch and the mere human way someone could pour love into their food. It was no wonder Connor enjoyed being out here, that men would disappear for months at a time, because being out here was oddly human, it was freeing. The Aquila sailed proudly as as you reached the broadside to glance down, you saw waves hit against the hull as you soured through the ocean like a horse with wings. Could it be like this forever? And was this the same freedom birds felt when souring through the sky? Though, this was nothing in comparison and the ache you had felt before - the urge to fly - it simmered into something else entirely. The urge to swim, to be taken not by the sea, but by the wind, by the sail of the Aquila.

And while the sea captivated you, so did the Aquila itself. Your hands found refuge in the hull, in the wood of the mast, running around it until you grew endlessly dizzy - only to then do it again. You pranced around on deck until you floated up by the quarter decking - where Connor manned the ship and the views there made your mind only spin more.

"It's nothing like I have ever seen before," you sighed out, joining his side to watch as he turned the wheel silently - giving you the space to talk freely. Connor had always been good at that, the only judgement he would give you, would be that in silence. By the way his eyes would narrow, the way his chin would tilt up as he observed you from the end of his nose. Oh, it was so Connor, it was so him, that you wished to have that own trait yourself. "It's so.. the sea is so large, like a blanket. I am sure it would swallow me up if I were to fall," you pranced around him on tiptoes, lifting your skirts as you hummed a jolly tune; just the first one that came to your head.

"And I am sure if I extend my arms," you did just that, holding them out like a bird. "I am certain I would fly," but then quickly you dropped them. "Though, I am rather happy here, to be flying through the sea, parting it with little harm. It would not harm, would it?"

Honestly, you could talk his ear off forever and Connor would do nothing but comply and listen. He enjoyed hearing the excitement in your tone, enjoyed watching you move like you had just found the meaning of life again - found how to control your body without letting your sickness stand in the way. It was hard to believe that Lyle wished to lock you up, that you deserved to be forgotten about.

"Harm?" he repeated cautiously, turning his head your way. Being a Captain suited him, and the clothes looked as if they fit better too.

"Why, yes! The sea! We do not intrude, do we?" you tiptoed over in a dancy fashion before plucking the hat from his head and placing it on your own. It was big, but smelt oddly just like him - of pine. Connor savoured your words, tried to find some answer that made sense but most times; you were like a book of riddles. Full of questions that wanted no answers.

"No, we do not," he settled on that simply, watching as you spun around with the hat atop your head. The hat swallowed your head as a whole. He looked so beautiful here, out at sea. The color blue complimented him, his skin, his freckles. Every part of you ached to touch him, to just feel his hand in your own while you span him around and giggled endlessly. Is this what it felt to be alive? The way you were essentially dancing on the decking made Faulkner shoot Connor a side-eye, not a judgemental one, just more a questioning one. Faulkner had an inkling there was something wrong with you, as did everyone, but nobody made it obvious - Connor didn't, he never did.

"We can stay out here, forever? Sail off until we find the end of the sea? Where it meets the sky, and then perhaps, we can sail amongst the clouds! To feel how soft they are between my fingertips, oh, like cotton!" Then with that remark, you shot your hands out; almost as if you were trying to pluck little parts of the cloud yourself. The way you looked upon the sky, it gave Connor hope, that instead of feeling so down, you were for once feeling a high that he could offer you. Even if it were as simple as sailing the Aquila. He pondered your words before glancing up himself, reminding him of the countless, endless days he looked upon the clouds, to read what secret messages they offered him. Fluffy, yes, he could see that. His eyes befell upon you once again before he exchanged a look toward Faulkner.

"Have you ever sailed a ship?" he asked, half stepping to allow you to look upon the wheel. It was large, beautifully colored and yet, such responsibility weighed upon it. Connor suited the wheel better than you - simply because he was better at control than you ever had been, though his question plucked your interest away from the clouds. The layer of trust he revealed to you did not feel heavy, no, a soft responsibility that settled on your shoulders. After all, what could go wrong? You could not crash, for there was nothing to crash into!

"You would allow me to?" you asked, taking a cautious step closer toward where Connor stood. You reached out reverently, hand lingering between you and the wheel before you retracted it in a sharp motion. Acting as if the wheel itself had burned you. "I do not think it would be wise," you were swaying, not because of the ship, but more so because you were weighing your options.

It was there Connor's lips pursed and he lifted his shoulders, almost as if he were shrugging.

"I care little about wisdom." Yet, he sounded so wise? And with that, you couldn't help but grin, slowly stepping toward the wheel until your fingers wrapped around the handles. The wheel in its entirety only showed how important it felt, to control ones life with nothing but a simple turn and it dawned upon you that - maybe - it had been part of Connor's intentions to bring you here. To allow you this slice of life, to show you life was worth living and as you took in the roundness of the wheel, as you felt the oak beneath your fingers; a spark of that melancholy began to arise. It wasn't unwelcoming, the opposite in face as you found yourself smiling through its sharp pains.

"Tell, me Connor," for a beat, you hesitated, trying to find the rights and trying to force the courage to come up with them. "Was this your intention? To bring me here?" Only, your question met with a confused look. Well, he wasn't going to lie to you, he had every intention to bring you here but the undertone of your question fell on deaf ears. Were you implying something else entirely?

"I would not lie to you. I asked if you wished to sail," his innocence was sweet and you couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head as you finally turned to face him. The blue of his uniform really suited him, the blue sky above and below, it really did compliment him. Honestly, you itched to reach out, to touch him the same way you had done a couple hours ago - though he seemed the kind of person who would not appreciate such unwanted touches.

With a soft hum, you shook your head and dismissed the mere thought and question; letting it out at sea with full intentions of never returning it again.

"No, no, you are quite right." Then a silence settled, the only noise was scurrying feet below deck as his crew adjusted sails, moved around each other with ease; the sway of the ship almost made it look as if they were dancing. The crew would speak to each other over yells, others enjoying the wind as much as you had, while some others gathered and began a hearty song. It was a simple melody, carried by men of the sea as they united in song. Being out here really had healing properties, not just for you, but everyone around you. A simple cheer, a heel of a foot tapped on decking below. It was so human and yet, such a reminder of how much you had truly lost yourself. That you had forgotten the simplicities in life.

"Connor, if I may?" you asked. His own gaze had been fixated on the small group of men himself before he turned to face you once again, one hand of his on the other side of the wheel and holding the handle; just wanting to ensure it were secure while you held the other end. His chin jerked, prompting you to continue.

"I never thanked you those many months ago. When you saved my life and I find it quite fitting to thank you again, here and now. Only because.. well, being here, it showed me that there truly is more to discover. That, I may not be completely lost. So, what I am trying to say is.. well, I'm just thanking you again, for saving my life a second time."

The raw honesty in your words took him aback as he savoured them, wanting to never forget this moment himself. He strived to much to help people and seeing the effects of what he could've done only encouraged him further. A tug of a smile emerged at the corner of his lips before his other hand raised to pat you gently on the shoulder. It was awkward, but ever so Connor.

"You mustn't thank me, only yourself. It was you that brought you here."

And he was right. You were living and surviving at the same time and the only person who was capable of doing that, was someone who had the strength to do it themselves. Honestly, you felt your eyesight become hazy with tears and for once, the overwhelming urge to sob because of your sadness felt a thing of the past. You were happy, you truly were, even if it were as simple as sailing a ship - with a man who showed you so much kindness that it felt hard to believe.

Bzz!..... Bzz!.... Bzz!....

"Raton.." you pried the words from your throat, voice hoarse from disuse.

Bzz!..... Bzz!.... Bzz!....

"Raton.." you cleared your throat this time, hoping that raising it just a little would wake him. But when the large man beside you did little but hum in response, you quickly nudged your elbow into his bicep; which was bulky and ever so inviting.

"Raton, your phone." For a man who slept so lightly, he sure was frustrating at this current moment. In fact, the increasing urge to just chuck a pillow at your husband just to wake him up became overwhelming, more so because nothing annoyed you most when someone else's' alarm woke you up instead of them. With a huff, you pushed yourself up on your elbow. The groggy feeling hit you instantly, along with the migraine that must've been festering from last night. Peering over the lug of a man, you glanced at his bedside table. It was relatively neat, a glass of water that was half empty (or half full), his watch, some hair ties and then his phone; which surprisingly wasn't on charge. The phone continued to vibrate against the wooden sideboard, each vibration only bothering you further. From where you were peering over, you noticed a familiar contact and picture on the lock screen.

Labelled as Ista, with a photo of him, his mother, you and your daughter in his arms. It was the only photo where Raton's smile didn't look like he was in pain.

"Shit," you uttered under your breath. Ziio had agreed to take your daughter, Terés - Theresa, off your hands overnight while the two of you celebrated your wedding anniversary. She was probably calling to get a time estimate on when you could take Terés off her hands, or worse, if she could be let inside. The panic that shot through you retorted in you quickly shaking at Raton's arm, the panic that his mom was outside while the both of you were somewhat hung over and naked didn't bode well at all. Not that Ziio would care, but you wanted some dignity with your mother-in-law at least!

"Mmh?" Raton stirred, his eyes fluttering open for mere seconds before they closed. It was almost the same amount of effort waking him up like it was with your daughter. No wonder where she got that from.

"Raton," you hissed again, giving his shoulder another sharp nudge and with that he shot up. He was just as bleary eyed as you, his hair a mop of mess on his head as he blinked the space of the room in. Nothing unusual, well, besides the trail of clothes that led from the hallway into the bedroom.

"Mmh - what?"

"Your phone," the amount of energy you put into waking this man up was too much, and you knew you'd be running on little to no sleep today. So, with a rather frustrated huff, you flopped back down in the bundle of pillows.

From beside you, you heard Raton spend some extra minutes waking himself up - trying to make it sound as if he'd been awake for hours. He cleared his throat, rubbed at his eyes again before quickly scooped his phone up and off the bedside table. His finger hovered over the accept button as he cleared his throat one more time - just for good measure - before answering the phone.

"Ista," he began, putting it on speaker so he could haul himself out of bed and begin the process of rushing on some clothes. "Hi, sorry, I-"

"Was you still sleeping?" she remarked, the judgement was not in her tone of voice, but her words instead. It almost sounded like the last time she had to deal with an oversleeping Raton was when he was still at school.

"No," his answer came out too quick and from the other end of the phone you could've sworn you heard Ziio almost scoff.

"Right," she mumbled, giving Raton the silence to regret his little lie. "I was wondering when you were both coming over. I have some things to do over at the hall. I'm going to bring Terés otherwise."

Ah, that was right. It was Saturday. There was a market Ziio organised in the hall, with markets from sellers - things like trinkets, or decorative items for the house, or even bracelets made by other members of Ratons tribe. All the proceedings usually went to the sellers, but the sellers would share half of their proceedings toward Ziio so she could continue funding and fighting for their reserve. Even after so many years, the repression against Native people and their land was a constant struggle. Terés usually enjoyed being there, but you knew that even she was a handful, something Ziio didn't need for today.

With that knowledge alone, you sighed gently and pushed yourself up lazily to lean on your elbow. You caught Ratons gaze in the mirror, the look of; 'What do I say? What are we doing?'

With a soft sigh, you only gave him a nod and quickly, he answered;

"We can pick her up before you go," he answered, moving off to find his pants he'd left by the bedroom door before tugging them on.

"Then be quick, Ratonhnhaké:ton, I don't have all day."

"Yes, Ista, I know."

Then the phone call ended and you gave a soft sigh. As thankful as you were that you had Ziio to look after Terés, you just ached for a little more time with your husband - a little less time without a child being in the way. Raton caught the look on your face, noticed the ache and acknowledged it, more so because the feeling was mutual. "I know," he responded, plopping himself down onto the bed to rub his head. That ache was there, which was a surprise. He wasn't a drinker at all.

"Maybe we should've asked her to take Terés on another day, I forgot all about the market.." you mumbled, feeling so stupid. Of course, you were thankful for Ziios help, she'd been there to help you after the labour, she stayed for a couple days while Raton worked and while you struggled with some postpartum depression. She'd done a lot more than Haytham, who'd sent a card all the way from England; only for it to arrive 3 months after the birth of your daughter. Grandparent of the year award should go to him, clearly. Raton's face contorted as he turned to glace at you from over his freckled shoulder, displeased in your deprecating tone.

"She agreed to this months ago," he leant back, the large palm of his hand engulfing the entirety of your thigh. "She isn't upset. You would know if she was." He trailed off, he spoke with experience, he'd been on the receiving end of her anger way too much as a kid. He was reckless and stupid, got in trouble a lot which was something a single mom like Ziio did not need.

With a defeated sigh, you could only nod. He was right after all, like always.

"Let's not waste time." With that, you began the day begrudgingly. A part of you just wished for more time, perhaps with Ratons lips attached to your clit - or for him to rock his hips steadily into yours as he blessed your morning with lazy sex. Pushing yourself up and out of bed, you trudged to the bathroom. Even that was a mess, honestly, the whole house was. Just below the mirror, by the sink, was your makeup and perfume; strewn around carelessly while you dressed yourself during the night before. Not only wished you for more time with Raton, but just to clean this house. The mere idea of Terés coming home to a messy house bothered you more than it should've. There was nothing stopping you from not going, of course. You could stay at home while Raton went out to fetch Terés, but the ache to see Ziio and receive one of those mama bear hugs she so kindly squeezes into you, how could you miss that?

Shooting a glance, you took a cautious look at yourself in the mirror. That was risky. You looked awful. Lipstick smudged down to your jawline, onto your neck which was peppered with little bite marks. Your mascara had also smudged, creating dark circles under your eyes. What a look.

"Raton?" you called out, peering out from the bathroom.

"Yeah?" he asked, stepping out from your bedroom. His hair looked a little better now, he must've been brushing it. But it wasn't his hair you wanted to look at. Slowly, you trailed your gaze down to his lips - which were red. Quickly, you had to purse your lips to not giggle at the sight of him. It didn't stop there, no, it wasn't just his lips. A scatter of lipstick marks covered the extent of his chest, a sloppy, smudged mark on his bicep, another just under his nipple, then a trail that ran further... and further.. until it stopped just at the hem of his pants. It was an explanation of how last night ended for you. The way your eyes glazed over them made him follow, glancing down at himself with arms extended.

"Oh," was all he could physically muster up before meeting your gaze. Those freckled cheeks were a shade of red, which was adorable.

"Mmh, not just there," you hummed before motioning him over. Raton padded over to your side, exchanging a glance with himself in the mirror that the two of you now stood opposite. He looked at his lips before giving a soft shrug. Raton would never care, he wouldn't care that much if you 'forgot' to tell him and he went out in public like that.

Reaching out, Raton turned on the tap to wet his fingers before using the water as some messy attempt to wipe his lips clean. You could've handed him a makeup wipe, but then that would've been easy and you quite fancied him leaning down over the sink like that; with muscles flexing as he moved his lips rapidly back and forth between his lips. After some casual scrubbing, he stood straight. It was a little better, not perfect, but enough to look responsible.

"You aren't going to bother with the rest?" you pointed out, taking another quick glance down at his body. Having a man that took such care of himself in such a way was like a blessing. His body was truly designed to be some kind of Greek God. Reaching out, he took a hold of his toothbrush and applied some toothpaste to the brush.

"Should I?" he questioned back and.. well, you weren't opposed to the marks either. He wasn't the only one marked up. The state of your thighs and hips, some might suspect that Raton hits you.

"No, I guess not.." you hummed, leaning your hip against the sink while you watched him; just appreciating how he moved. How perfect his freckles were, how long his hair had gotten too. As he got closer to the mirror to begin brushing his teeth, you watched how he kept looking up at you through the reflection of the mirror. He took up the whole length of the thing with his sheer size, you felt nothing but a spec in comparison to him alone.

"Are you.." he paused, leaning down to spit before rinsing his mouth out. "Are you going to get dressed? We don't have much time."

Right.

"Ah, right, sorry. Got distracted." The simplicity of your words earnt a hum of what sounded like a chuckle from him. Oh, how your heart soured at just hearing or prying a laugh or chuckle from him. You wished to pluck the soundwave of his laugh from thin air, to frame it and put it on the wall - with a button where you could replay it over and over until your ears rang.

With that thought in mind, you were quick to get dressed. You wiped off the remains of your makeup, brushed your teeth and then dressed down in something casual. It was a nice day - for a change. Raton did the same after he 'freshened' up in the bathroom. What that consisted of? It was a mystery. At least he came out smelling nice, that's all that mattered, though you weren't too opposed with his after gym smell. You awaited for him downstairs, eating something light in the kitchen as he stepped down the stairs.

"Well, hello biceps."

Wait, had this shirt he was wearing shrunk? Or had Raton been lifting some extra weights - that weren't your legs.

"Isn't that a.. little small?" you observed, though shamelessly you were more admiring. Especially with how the fabric stretched over his torso.. his abs.. his biceps..

Just as he were about to reach for the keys, he paused at your remark and took a glance down at himself.

"Small?" he repeated in disbelief and his disbelief made you shake your head. Could he not see that he was dressed like a complete man slut? "What?" Raton tried to pry some more information out of you, almost feeling that he should change.

"No, I'm just.. it.. never mind, we should go."

With that interaction shoved aside, the two of you finally set out toward Ziios house. Thankfully, you did not live too far from her, which was a relief; especially for her as she got to see Terés often. It was - once again - another reason as to why you were so thankful to have Ziio close, especially given your own family was further away. Raton took the drivers seat, which was a good idea considering he drank less than you. He'd always looked so hot driving, in a way that was unexplainable. The way he checked his rear-view mirror, from the way he kept a hand on your thigh, to the way his eyes glazed over the road. It was like family life suited Raton. Just being a dad, being a husband, it was the kind of life that was right for him. And to that, you were happy to share that with him. You were happy than he were happy.

It reminded you of the day that Raton clumsily proposed to you. He'd offered you out on a trail ride to enjoy some views, borrowing the horses from Kanen'tó:kon's ranch. You'd never ridden a horse before and Raton had some more experience while you clung onto the reigns for dear life. He took you out somewhere quiet, took his time to take some pictures of the beautiful landscape before just dropping the question right there and then. Yeah, he didn't drop down on one knee. He was too awkward for that.

"Would you ever consider.. marriage?" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze completely while he continued snapping photos of the landscape before the two of you - using his phone as some kind of excuse to will away the tremble in his hands. The question made you pause, eyes narrowing slowly as you turned to face him. He refused to look at you still, pretending to look off in the distance; some animal catching his attention more than this.

"I mean.." you trailed off, unsure if that was him directly asking you, or if he were simply just asking out of curiosity. "I would like that, yes. Are you..."

"Yes," he cut you off and finally, he shoved his phone into his pocket, along with his hands. Despite the cool, evening air - he was sweating. A part of you couldn't blame him at all.

"You're asking me to marry you?" you asked cautiously. The last thing you wanted to do was jump to conclusions and start prancing around like some kind of deer.

"You don't want to?"

It seemed you weren't the only one jumping to conclusions. His rapid fire caused you to chuckle gently.

"I didn't say that," now you leant forward a little, trying to catch his gaze, or even trying to focus on what he was looking at instead. The horses whinnied behind you, grazing quietly and their whine almost felt as if they were trying to encourage Raton to say something - or do something. The sunset sat between the two mountain peaks, creating a beautiful orange hue to settle across the land. It was beautiful, an open space between the woodland that felt private; a space that you realised later on he took you to on purpose. It was just his execution on it.. was rather unexperienced. "So..." you probed once again and Raton licked at his lips, trying to wrack his brain to say something - anything!

"Would you... marry me?"

Finally, finally, he met your gaze. He turned his head, the beautiful orange hue settling over the two of you like some blanket complimented his tanned skin beautifully. You could've sworn his eyes twinkled as soon as he looked upon you, but then again, they always did. From the very day you met him - when he was still a little shit getting in trouble.

It was hard to not laugh and you did. The chuckles spilled out of you without processing them, more so because you were just as nervous as he was. There was something about this whole interaction that.. almost didn't feel real. That it'd be some prank, ones he used to pull on you when you guys were teenagers. This was different though, his expression - which now dropped at the mere idea of your chuckles alone - it said something else, that this was dangerously serious and those chuckles quickly ceased to be as you stared upon his hurt expression.

"Oh, Raton, I'm sorry, I- I just.. I thought that," you were spluttering, shit, you still hadn't answered him, had you? How could you assume that this was some prank. Raton had changed.. A LOT since school. He'd grown, not just physically, but emotionally too.

"It's okay," he forced a smile, but it was only to hide his pain.

"Wait, so you're serious?!"

"Uh.. yes?"

"Then yes, yes, yes, a million times yes-" you spluttered endlessly and this time, Raton was chuckling. Maybe out of relief.

That memory alone was so fresh in your mind. The wedding band around your finger only further proved how long ago that really felt. The wedding in general, where Kanen'tó:kon spent about seven minutes with his speech - having to bring up every embarrassing moment Raton had done - from the birth of your beautiful daughter. Having Raton, his friends, his family, it was a blessing that you felt could never give back.

The drive to Ziios wasn't long, give or take, about twenty minutes. It was out of town, out in the countryside where Raton grew up - his tree climbing skills he has yet to teach you, though those were put aside after the birth. Living in the city worked both for you and Raton. The jobs were close, so was Terés' school. Only, the rent was awful, most times the two of you had to shamefully ask Haytham for money - which he would give with no issue. It's just, you despised the man. You despised how he felt that money could fix things - which annoyingly, they fucking did. His money would never fix lost time for Raton, would never fix the lost time with Terés. The amount of forgiveness Raton gave to this man, it was a fucking miracle. Raton had a heart of gold and Haytham? He didn't deserve it.

Ziios house was covered in a shroud of trees, making her house look cosy. You spent many nights on the porch there, talking with Raton, hands interlinked, or crying into his or Ziios arms. The memories here were endless and you so wished that perhaps the two of you could escape the city to live out here too, to find peace. Maybe when Terés is older, maybe you could even home-school her. A blanket of grey clouds loomed over the woodland while the two of you got out, your head still aching, but not stopping you from following Raton up the porch stairs.

The door was pushed open, it was always open and welcome to anyone who lived on the reserve; Ziio had a lot of faith in her neighbours. Raton had already spent countless hours reminding her to at least lock it when she went to bed, though you were sure the woman could handle herself.

"Ista!" Raton called out, not bothering to kick off his shoes, after all the two of you had no intentions of staying; despite how cosy her house was. You had come to realise, after years of dating Raton, that the reason he smelt so good was because of Ziio. She'd always have some herbs cooking by the door or incense in one room and another. Her house was the dream house and you wanted so badly for your house to carry the same vibe.

"Rake'ni!" a little voice called out just down the hall, followed by little feet and soon enough Terés came running down to throw herself in Ratons arms. He caught her with little to no effort, lifting her and swinging her around - completely careless of the various items stacked on a bookshelf nearby, which were in the 'flight zone' of Terés' toes.

The relationship between the two of them was endearing. One that made your heart melt effortlessly. Raton had always craved to be a father, even down to the first night of marriage. He'd drop hints here and there, speaking about how he'd love to have a little girl, a little girl whose hair he could braid, who he could cuddle on stormy nights. You'd made some dry remark about how you were his little girl, to which was received badly. Raton was serious abut this, as serious as he was with his fatherly duties. It was nothing compared to Haytham, that was for sure. As much as you loved watching the two, it was bittersweet. Maybe because, deep down, you ached to have that kind of relationship with Terés. That she favoured him more than you purely because you couldn't live up to the parent expectations. Raton called you mindless for thinking such things, but as you stood off to the side to watch, that feeling of jealously bubbled up within you once again.

"I missed you," Raton finally exclaimed with a subtle sigh, lifting little Terés up to bury his nose into her hair. Her hair was braided into two little braids, not doubt she wanted to match with Ziio. "Did you have a nice night with Ónenhste?"

Terés grinned, accepting the warm embrace from her father with open arms. Her little arms hooked around his neck before she nodded so frantically that it almost looked her head would drop off.

"Yes! A really nice night, we watched a movie together and then we played some games and then we also made a fort! We made them with blankets that her Ista made for her when she was a little girl! She said they were the same blankets you slept in, is that true, Rake'ni? Did you sleep in those blankets?" God, could that girl talk. She must've caught that little knack from you.

Raton just offered her a smile before pressing a kiss on her forehead, one that lingered.

"Mmh, yes, I did. When I was just as little as you. You haven't said hello to Ista yet," Raton glanced over at you. He noticed your solemn look, flashing you an apologetic look himself before lowering Terés so that she could welcome you.

"Hi, sweet thing." Dropping to your knees, you pulled her into a hug. She smelt just like those same blankets, the same blankets you and Raton would sleep in yourselves. Those blankets were ancient, like they were from the 1700s or something. "I'm so happy to see you again, I hate being away from you for so long, but I'm also happy you enjoyed yourself." Urgh, she was so cute, you wanted to squeeze her little freckled cheeks and just eat her up.

"I missed you too! Rake'ni more!" Ouch. You forced a smile and chuckle.

"Sure you did, bug."

Finally, Ziio rounded the corner and made an appearance. She looked a little flustered, albeit it well, offering both you and Raton a smile, though it faded as soon as she looked upon her son.

"You look awful," she remarked to him, which made Raton's brows crinkle a little.

"So do you, you look old." They had a nice relationship, one that consisted of dry sarcasm and humour. "You're greying." As Ziio passed Raton, pushing a bag of Terés' into his arms, she gave him a smile and gave his shoulder a pat.

"Well, after all the years of having a son like you, it's no surprise." Honestly, you would've laughed, if it wasn't for the whole range of emotions, thoughts and feelings that suddenly consumed you right there by the front door. "Anyway, I have to go, I'm going to be late."

Ziio passed him to reach out by you, reaching for a jacket that hung by the door. She exchanged a look with you, gave a wink before pausing, noticing the look across your expression. It was no surprise Raton could read you like a book, Ziio was the same. She saw the worry, could feel the pulses of anxiety radiating off you as you pushed yourself up and allowed Terés to find sanctuary in Raton's arm again.

"I think the grey hair suits you." Wow, you cringed and now, you were forcing a laugh.

"You okay?" Ziio confronted you right there and then, direct, as she always had been. Raton was distracted with Terés, no surprise considering she was chewing his ear off with something you couldn't focus on right now.

"Yeah, yeah," you waved off her concern with a hand and smile, but when she placed a hand on your shoulder, you could've very well crumbled right there and then. Ziio gave you a look. Not a 'mother-in-law' look, just a 'mother' look. One you couldn't replicate - maybe it was her years of experience.

"Do you think I'm a good mom?" The voice of concern came out in a whisper. Partly because you daren't Raton to hear and that if you said it any louder, your voice would crackle and tremble, then you'd be a sobbing mess once again. Your question made Ziio's shoulders drop, almost as if hearing you utter those words to her made her heart completely crack, maybe because she spent countless nights herself asking the same question. With a weary sigh, she placed a hand on your cheek and almost instinctively, you nuzzled into her touch.

"I think you're the best mom. That's better than just good, right?" There was no arguing that, you couldn't, otherwise you would cry. So, you swallowed back the lump and just gave a nod. You told yourself that she was right, she was always right!

"Yeah, yeah," you mindlessly agreed before she retracted her hand to shuffle her arms into her jackets armholes.

"You going to drive me there?" Ziio then asked, turning her head around to Raton; who was currently getting his cheeks squeezed by Terés.

"I can dmrive you, mmnsure."

Her gaze narrowed toward the two of then, then she turned to fetch her shoulder bag off the hook.

"You can still take back wedding vows." Another one of her dry remarks, but it was enough to make you laugh at least and with that, she took pride in.

The drive to and from the hall wasn't long. It was just on the outskirts of the city. Ziio had insisted we just head off home, which frankly was a relief to you. With how dark the skies look, it just looked perfect weather with a blanket and a good film; plus, you knew how these kinds of things catered to kids and you really wanted to avoid the face paint for today. Ziio said she'd find her own way home and you knew she'd be able to, so soon enough the three of you were home.

Honestly, every part of you wanted to just slither your way back into bed. To dwell back on those thoughts, endlessly questioning whether you were a good parent, wondering why you weren't a favourite, but the duties of being a mom called and the time for it was little to none. At times, the depression snaked its way back inside your mind. You'd never been the same after Terés' birth, suffering greatly with a depression that honestly? Made you neglect her. Not entirely of course, she was still your daughter after all, but you couldn't look at her and each time you did, there was a great pain, a great sense of anger that bubbled up inside you. In fact, you couldn't bear to look back at the photos of you in that hospital bed with a small, new-born Terés on your chest, mostly because in the photos you looked so.. zoned out. Cheeks tear stained, staring off into the distance, unable to even look upon her. It was an awful time, one that swallowed you up and spat you back out; leaving you with a disgusting feeling that you couldn't wash off. Wasn't parenthood supposed to be the best thing ever? So, why did you struggle so much?

It was normal, that's what the doctors told you, but when Raton found you one night standing above Terés' crib while she screamed for some attention, he knew then that you needed some form of help. Himself and Ziio not just looked after Terés, but you too. Ensuring you attended therapy for your own unresolved issues, putting you on meds that numbed you more than anything. But after the years, that feeling subsided.. until now.

The depression wasn't as heavy as it used to be. You learnt to tolerate it, but each time you saw Terés and Raton together, it lingered there in the back of your mind; a constant reminder of your grief, your illness, your jealously. It made you feel as if you were unworthy to be a mother in the first place, that Raton deserved better.

As soon as you stepped inside, you headed upstairs to raid the cabinet for your pills. It had been awhile since you took them, so as soon as you found the capsule, you took two for extra measure.

It's a temporary feeling, every mother experiences this. It's what your doctors told you, it's what your therapist told you. But why was that the case? Why was that the risk you took? And not every mother suffered with this immense heaviness, you know this because of your late night trips over on the Reddit thread for new moms! Maybe Raton was right, you should limit your phone time; he was better at that than you, though occasionally he fell down the loop of a doom scroll if the two of you did it together.

As soon as you necked back some water from the tap, Raton's large frame appeared by the doorway. He wasn't hard to miss, not when he was built like a fucking brick wall.

"Are you okay?" the same question as before, was it obvious you were spiralling?

"God, why? Do I look like shit? Is it obvious? Is that why she can't even see me, her own mother?" the words hissed from your mouth and you regretted them as soon as they spilled out, so much so, that you clamped a hand over your mouth. You hadn't even meant to snap at Raton, not your lifeline. "I'm sorry.." you croaked out, but he understood - he always did.

"We can contact that therapist again," he offered gently, tone nothing but kind as he reached out to touch you reverently on your waist.

"No, no, no," you couldn't accept that, going back there was like some kind of defeat, that you were 'sick' again. "No.."

"It's okay to reach out for help," he grounded you with his gaze while you fumbled for some kind of excuse, but with how beautiful his brown eyes looked, it was hard to say no again.

With furrowed brows, you could only muster up a weak smile. How did you get so lucky? A man with patience such as him? A man with a big cock that could make your worries diminish if you allowed him to. You gave a sigh, shook your head and turned your chin to glance at yourself in the mirror. You had looked worse before, this feeling would pass - as it always had done. The last thing you wanted to do was cause another strain, to beg Haytham for money so you could speak to a therapist, who honestly? Didn't provide as much comfort as Raton could.

"I know. But really - I'm fine. I have these," you fumbled for the capsule of pills, but that revelation did not make Raton smile, the opposite actually. "Anyway!" you pushed them back in the cabinet and closed it hastily. "What are the plans for today, Captain? Let's do something fun." Your hands took his and shook them, almost as if you were physically trying to shake the worry out of him.

Raton looked at you - really looked at you. Oh, no, no, not with those puppy eyes. His jaw tensed as he thought between wanting to confront you and your emotions, while also giving you space and a distraction. He turned his chin over his shoulder. Terés was downstairs playing with some toys Ziio had given her, gosh, you were thankful that you and Raton were strict with her screen time.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" he suggest, not feeling too confident with the words yet offering a smile with them. That had always been Raton's backup plan whenever anything happened. You remembered feeling crazy when he suggested a walk after your first miscarriage. A walk. Two words that held such.. what felt like, hostility, but you knew that wasn't his intentions at all.

On instinct, your lips pursed, forcing back memories, bottling up feelings before exhaling almost painfully.

"Yeah, let's do that."

If it helped him, it had to help you.

-

It seemed the looming clouds overhead were nothing but a weak attempt at some warning, for they passed by and revealed beautiful sunny skies. It was the kind of weather were you weren't sure whether you should bring a jacket or not, though you were thankful to have one in the end, for there was a soft nip in the air each time a breeze ran up the expanse of your spine. It prickled your skin and left you yearning for some warmth, whether that be from the sun or Raton's arms themselves; either were fine.

In some sense, the walk helped a little. A nice little park full of other children, which allowed Terés to go off and play while you sat on a small bench not far off. Raton went off to find a stick, not just any stick, a stick worth hunting for while Terés buried sand in her pockets to 'show Rake'ni when he was back.' It didn't make much sense, but you daren't ponder on it for too long. Sitting here, with fresh air, it did help clear your mind and gosh, did watching Terés play with other children make you ever so broody.

Terés had only recently turned seven, which seemed more than acceptable time to have another, wasn't it? You and Raton had both agreed that safe sex wasn't needed, if you were going to get pregnant, you'd be more than happy to keep it - or not, which he made clear during your mental health episode. Honestly, the idea of having another child, of suffering with depression as great as you had, AND the idea of not being so financially stable right now was enough to deter you. It's just.. sitting here, watching Raton be a dad, watching Terés giggle with other children and run around, helping the younger children climb up to slide down the slide with them, how could you deny her a little brother or sister? Or Raton another chance to have a child?

Just the thought alone of how much that man sobbed when Terés was born melted your heart. The soft words of encouragement, kissing your forehead and telling you that, 'you can, you can do this,' after each time you told him you couldn't. The way he felt as if he stood in the way of the Doctors and Nurses, yet his hand remained firmly in yours. The birth was quick, lord, it hurt and you weren't looking to suffer for any longer than you already were. Ziio mentioned that Raton's birth had equally been as fast as yours with Terés.

With how lost you were in your thoughts, you hadn't noticed Raton collapse beside you, a little breathless yet rather triumphant with the stick he had found on the forest clearing. He lifted it up and turned it over in the palm of his hand.

"Looks like a weapon, wouldn't you think?" His choice of words almost, just almost, made you laugh. Raton wasn't a violent man, well, apart from the time he broke some guys nose for pushing you in that carpark once. He wouldn't have done it, if you weren't pregnant that was.

"Mmh, a little," you agreed, almost in the same tone of voice you would offer that to Terés. "You know.." you trailed off, glancing up at him. Your choice of words made him meet your gaze, lowering his stick momentarily. "I think.. Terés deserves a sibling, at some point.." you trailed off, honestly bracing yourself for his reaction. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, especially given how only mere hours ago, you were ranting about how much of an awful mother you must be. Raton savoured your words with a heavy sigh before leaning back, stick placed across his lap.

"Are you ready for that..?" he worded it slowly, looking off at Terés. He loved her with his whole heart, you knew that by how he watched her.

It was a good question, were you ready for that? For those long, drawn-out months? To go through a labour again? Honestly, maybe you were just thinking this way because you were in some desperate need for some dick; you wouldn't word that out loud here though.

"It was just a thought," you bluffed, only because you didn't know the answer to that just yet, maybe you shouldn't had suggested it at all.