He felt more relaxed after the day on the yacht. Harry didn’t feel like he had to make everything look so perfect anymore because it was easy with you. You fit in his life so perfectly. 

He also couldn’t remember the last time he woke up feeling so refreshed, so at ease, so comfortable. He’d wake up with you either in his arms or him spooning you from behind. It was like during the night, both your bodies craved each other. 

Harry knew that he shouldn’t, but he started looking at you just a bit differently now—how he wanted to hear you laugh more or see you smile. He knew today’s events would be at nighttime, which meant that you both had the rest of the morning and afternoon to spend with one another. 

And it terrified him. Not because he had time to spend with you, but because the feelings that he started to surface couldn’t go unnoticed anymore. Though, he was still going to try to push it away, to try and ignore it. 

But there was a part of him—a really big part of him—that wished you both could just stay here forever. 

Because it meant not having to go back home, back to reality, back to what you both were to each other. 

You had woken up to Harry gently shaking your shoulder. The doors to the outdoor deck were open, allowing a cool breeze into the room. You shielded the brightness with your arm and turned to your abdomen, covering your head now with the pillow. 

“Wake up,” he said, shaking your shoulder again. 

“It’s early.” 

“It’s not.” 

“It is for me.” 

He chuckled. “We have the entire day to ourselves. At least until tonight.” 

“Great, let me sleep some more.” 

He shook his head and took the pillow from you and the sheets that covered your body. “Get up.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

He smiled. “I want to spend the day with you. Can I do that?” 

That caught your attention. You slowly turned back around and blinked the sleep away from your eyes. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

You sat up from bed and gently tugged him down on top of you, wrapping your arms and legs around him loosely as he kept himself propped up with his hands on the mattress. 

“We can swim,” he said softly. “Go for a walk. Get one of those couple’s massages,” he suggested, bringing one hand to your cheek and gently brushing your hair away from your face. 

“You’d do that? Just me and you?” 

Harry nodded. “Gotta have some fun while we’re here, right?” 

You grinned and slowly rolled him onto his back, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Yes.” 

“So, get ready. I’ll order breakfast. We can eat it out on the deck and then go for a swim.” 

“You’ll come join me too? Not just dip your toes in?” 

He chuckled. “Yeah, baby. I’ll join you.” 

You smiled and Harry felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your excitement. He craved more of it—more of seeing you happy and him being the reason for it. 

“You’re spoiling me today,” you teased. “What got you in such a good mood, hm?” 

Harry chuckled and rested his hands on your hips as he stared up at you. “Yesterday was… it was just a really fun day. You brought out a side of my parents that neither me or Peter have seen in such a long time.” 

You smiled. “So, I’m being rewarded?” 

He rolled his eyes playfully. “You make it sound worse than it is.” 

You laughed quietly and then slowly climbed off his lap to stand from the bed. “I’m just teasing. I’m glad you had fun yesterday. I did too.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Uh huh,” you said, walking towards your luggage. “Especially our brief time in the room.” 

Harry sat up and cleared his throat. He watched you rummage through your luggage to pull another one of your bikinis. “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” you said, pulling a yellow pastel-colored two piece. “I’m thinking if we have sex again, we might just have to forego the condom.” 

Harry’s lips parted in surprise. 

“You know, just one more time, without alcohol in both our systems.” You continued, beginning to walk towards the bathroom. “Just to make sure that it really feels as good as it did yesterday.” 

Harry stood from the bed immediately and tripped over his feet as he began walking towards you. He felt himself twitch beneath his shorts, already hardening at the memory of how you felt around him. 

“Can’t just say those things,” Harry said, scooping you up into his arms before he set you down on the edge of the sink.

“Why not?” You smiled, biting your lower lip as your arms snaked around his shoulders loosely. 

“Gonna get me all excited,” he answered. 

“And are you? Excited?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed one of your hands and tugged it down to his crotch. “You tell me.” 

You gasped, feeling his hardened length from beneath his shorts as you slowly began to palm him. “Yeah, I’d say you are.” 

He chuckled and leaned in to press his lips along the side of your neck, groaning against you when he felt you push your hand down his shorts so you could touch him fully. 

“We gonna start our day like this, Harry?” 

He nodded and dropped his forehead to your shoulder. “I’d hope so, baby.” 

“Good,” you smiled, running a thumb over his glistening tip. You hopped off the sink and moved to kneel down in front of him, pulling his shorts down with his boxers. He kicked them off the side as he placed both hands at the edge of the sink, looking down at you with dark eyes. 

“Whatcha doing?” He asked. 

“What’s it look like?” You asked back, leaning forward to wrap your lips around his tip. You lapped at his precome, tongue swirling around him slowly. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes falling shut as one hand moved to your hair. “This my reward, hm?” 

You smiled and pulled back, letting his tip brush along your wet lips. “Yeah, it’s your reward for a good day ahead.” 

Then, you put your mouth back on him. 

You had been having an amazing morning so far. It made you wonder if more moments like this would occur if you and Harry became something more than what you both were used to. You knew that you both established a rule that you’d talk to each other if one of you started developing feelings, but it just didn’t seem… right. 

Because it meant having to admit to him that you were starting to feel something so real for him, when that was never the plan. 

You both agreed that you weren’t what he wanted and he wasn’t what you wanted.

But why did three days in the Maldives change all of that? 

It wasn’t even the sex that caused a shift. It was the small moments in between. The lingering glances, the soft touches. The way you fit in so naturally with his family. You told yourself it was the fact that you were in the Maldives, pretending to be someone special to him—that was why you started developing feelings for him. 

If you just kept it to yourself and waited until all of this was over, surely the feelings would disappear too. 

Right? 

“You look like you’re thinking,” Harry called out, swimming over to you and resting his arms over the deck. You were sitting at the edge of it, sipping your coffee and dressed in your bikini. 

Your eyes narrowed at him. “I’m just… reveling in this moment.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“I am.” 

“Right.” 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“Nope,” he smiled. 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your camera, snapping a few pictures of him before setting it down. 

“You ever gonna let me try and take a picture of you?” Harry asked, climbing out of the water and walking towards his towel to dry himself off. 

“No.” 

He chuckled. “Why not?” 

“My camera is my baby… I don’t trust anyone but myself to hold it.” 

“That’s a bit serious,” he pointed out, sitting down next to you. 

You bit your lower lip and sighed. “I did bring another camera that you can use.” You stood from the deck and walked back inside the villa, disappearing down the hallway to retrieve the Polaroid you brought with you. 

After a few minutes, you stepped back outside and handed the Polaroid to Harry. “I trust you with this.” 

“Ah, thanks,” he smiled. 

“I assume you know how to use it.” 

“Why’s that? Because I’m old?” 

You smirked and sat back down, leaning back just slightly on your hands. “Maybe.” 

“You weren’t calling me old about an hour ago,” he pointed out, winking in your direction. 

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. 

“In fact, I think you were screaming my name for more,” Harry licked his lips and looked through the viewfinder of the Polaroid before he pressed the button. The film slid out of the camera and he began shaking it. 

You grabbed it from his hand and shook your head. “It’s a myth… shaking a Polaroid.” Instead, you tucked the Polaroid underneath your journal to shield it from the light. 

“But everyone does it.” 

“Shaking it doesn’t make it develop faster… in fact, shaking it can actually cause discoloration or unwanted blotches.” 

“Well, you are the professional,” Harry smiled, lifting the camera to his eye again and taking another photo of you. “You look beautiful, you know that?” 

You smiled to yourself and glanced over at him. “Are these pictures for me… or for you?” 

“For me, obviously.” 

When the film came out of the camera, he followed your lead and tucked them underneath your journal as well. 

“How about we take one together?” You asked, moving to sit next to him. He wrapped one arm around you as you leaned into him and he raised the camera to face the both of you. 

The both of you posed for several pictures—a simple one where the both of you were smiling at the camera, another where he kissed your cheek, but the last one… the last one you were looking into each other’s eyes, a broad smile on both your lips. 

Then, he set down the camera and pulled you onto his lap, hand coming up to your cheek. “You make me feel comfortable like this,” he whispered. 

“Hmm?” 

“I just—I just mean that this week so far… I’ve never felt as comfortable in my own skin as I do when I’m with you.” 

You leaned into his touch. 

“You just look at me like… like I’m special,” Harry said quietly. 

“You are,” you said quickly. “I mean, of course you are, look at your family,” you continued, trying to reason with the fact that this type of conversation wasn’t something that you or Harry were used to having. 

He chuckled, but he cleared his throat afterwards. Harry wasn’t sure why he was trying to gauge whether or not you were feeling the same thing he was. Even if you did, he wasn’t sure he’d even act on it. 

Would this even work back in New York?

“Look at us,” you smiled. “The Maldives are… making us look at each other just a little bit differently.” 

He nodded. Harry felt his stomach drop at that. Maybe you were just still following along, still pretending. He pulled you closer to him until he leaned in to press his forehead against yours. 

“So… what’s next?” 

“For the day?” You asked. 

Harry nodded. Though, he wanted to ask was what would be next after this, after the Maldives. “Yeah, baby.” 

“Well… you did mention a couple’s massage,” you grinned. 

“Okay,” Harry nodded, kissing your cheek lightly. “I can get that scheduled.” 

“I’m definitely gonna miss this once we go back home,” you chuckled. 

Harry stared into your eyes. 

And at the tip of his tongue, he wanted to say, what if this became real back home… then what?

The massage lasted an hour, but the sounds that were coming out of you did the opposite of what the massage should have been doing. You were letting out relieved groans at the masseuse who was working on you to the point that Harry looked over to see another man’s hands running along your bare back. He ended up cutting his own massage short but he allowed you to continue with yours. 

When the masseuses left, you had walked into the bedroom feeling lighter than you ever felt. Harry, on the other hand, was sitting on the edge of it with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed. 

“Didn’t have a good massage?” You asked, still walking around in your bikini from earlier that morning. 

“Something like that.” 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, walking over to him. “Maybe next time, you should get the guy that worked on me. I swear, he had magic fingers or something.” 

Harry huffed. “No thanks.” 

You furrowed a brow. “Is something wrong?” 

“No.” 

“You’re lying.” 

He just shook his head. “It’s nothing.” 

“It’s obviously something if it’s causing this kind of reaction.” 

Harry stood from the bed. “I should probably get ready.” 

“We have a few hours left…” 

“Then I’ll go for a walk.” 

“Harry—”

He was almost halfway through the door before he turned to look at you. “Why do you have to make those sounds?” 

“What?” 

“You were… moaning.” 

“I was not.” 

He scoffed. 

“Okay, the fact that you don’t know the sounds I make is a bit concerning.” 

Harry’s eyes narrowed again. 

“I wasn’t moaning.” 

“Well, that guy was pulling some noises out of you.” 

“Yeah… because my body was tense, Harry.” 

“Exactly.” 

You shook your head. “I wasn’t moaning because he had his fingers inside of me.” 

Harry cleared his throat. “It sure sounded like it.” 

“Oh my god,” you sighed. “Is this… is this how you get when you’re in a relationship? Did you get like this with Lucy?” 

Lucy. You regretted it the moment it left your lips. 

“Shit, I’m sorry—”

“I’m not the jealous type.” Harry interrupted. He took a step closer to you now and slammed the bedroom door shut behind him. 

“Right. So… why did I find you pouting in here like someone kicked a puppy?” 

Harry tightened his jaw. “And I was never like this with Lucy.” 

That stirred something inside of you. Something you didn’t want to admit, something that had been simmering in the pit of your stomach since the first day you got here. 

“Sure. So, I’m the special one?” 

“Yes,” he answered quickly, taking a few more strides in your direction until he was standing in front of you now. “I didn’t like that man’s hands all over you.” 

“He was doing his job.” 

“I could’ve just fucking given you a massage myself.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, Harry, but you’re not a professional masseuse—”

Then, his large hand lightly encompassed your throat. He didn’t grip it, didn’t cut off any oxygen, but it remained there. Almost like a warning. 

And immediately, you felt your insides tingle. Could feel a pool of wetness now settle between your legs. 

“I just don’t like other people touching what’s mine.” 

Your eyes widened slightly. Harry suddenly turned you around until your back was facing him. Then, he shoved you down onto the bed and crowded you from behind. 

“Do you hear me?” He asked. 

You nodded, moving your hands to the mattress as you felt his hands roughly push down the bottoms of your bikini. He called you his. That wasn’t him pretending—that was real. 

And it made you excited. 

“Yes…” you answered. 

“Good,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck you now,” Harry said, pushing his own shorts down as he began stroking the base of his length. “And I better hear those fucking moans.” 

“Then, I guess you better do a good job then, huh?” 

He growled lowly under his breath. Pressed the head of his length at your entrance and lingered there for a moment, gathering your slickness. 

“Don’t I always?” Harry whispered, sliding into you in one deep thrust. One hand moved to your hip and he gripped it so tight that you were sure there was going to be a mark there later. 

Your back arched and you tried to reach behind him, pushing at his lower abdomen. 

He clicked his tongue and grabbed your wrists with one hand, pinning them at your lower back. 

“No, you can take it,” he said, pulling out to his tip only to thrust back inside in one go. Harry’s eyes fluttered at the feel of your tight walls, hand tightening around your wrist while the other tightened around your hip.

You moaned loudly, toes curling against the wooden floor as Harry continued his deep thrusts. This felt much more different than what either of you were used to. Sure, he could be rough, but never like this.

Never because he thought you were his. 

And certainly never because of his jealousy over another man’s hands on you. 

His thrusts sped up. The sounds of your moans mixed in with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

When he released your wrists only to get a better grip on you by holding your hips with both hands, you reached out to fist the sheets tightly. You knew that both of you should be responsible, that he should have at least put a condom on, but it just seemed like you both were breaking all of the rules that you established to begin with. 

Harry didn’t falter. The moans that escaped you were much more intense than what the masseuse was pulling out of you and a sense of pride overcame him. He leaned over you now, chest pressed against your back as his lips hovered near your ear. 

“You’re mine, you know that?” He whispered, nipping at your earlobe. 

“Y—Yes,” you answered. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours,” he said softly. 

Harry pulled out of you abruptly and turned you on your back. He kept your legs spread open for him before he slid back inside. Lowering himself until his nose brushed against yours, Harry whispered again, “I’m yours, baby.”

Harry was dressed in a lightweight black crewneck sweater and a white linen pants. He was staring at the polaroids that were scattered on the kitchen counter, a small smile lining his lips. There was a part of him that knew that maybe he crossed a line earlier today—calling you his and making you say it too wasn’t something he planned. 

It was just… an intense moment. 

He also didn’t expect to get jealous over some man that you wouldn’t even think about looking twice at. He wasn’t sure what that meant, what this meant, because the more time he spent here with you, the more he started to look at you differently. 

Harry heard the sound of your footsteps from down the hallway and he turned his head to look in your direction. Instantly, he felt his throat go dry as his mouth parted in surprise. You had stepped out in a white dress with light green and blue floral print on the side of it and halter neck style with crossover straps. No one had ever stopped him in his tracks the way you did this last week.

“Wow,” he muttered. 

You smiled up at him and turned around to give him a full view of the dress. He cleared his throat when he noticed the cowl backless part of the dress. He reached out and ran his fingertips along your soft and bare skin and back up. Your hair was in a bun, strands of hair falling out over your face. You were fucking breathtaking. 

“I should thank you,” you said, moving a hand to his chest. “I’ve got a new wardrobe because of you.”

Harry smiled, but he couldn’t help but start thinking about you wearing these clothes for someone else. Someone other than him. “Well, you’re welcome.”

“Do you like it?”

Harry nodded. “You look great.”

“Perfect for dinner on the beach, right?” 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “It’s perfect for it.”

“Can you believe we’re almost halfway through this trip?”

Harry nodded. He forced a small smile. “All good things have to come to an end, right?” 

“Maybe,” you answered. “Or maybe… maybe we should just stay here forever. You can work remotely, right?” 

Harry laughed quietly and took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Then, he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to the back of it. “And what will you do?”

“Oh, I’d be the stay at home girlfriend, obviously.” You said with a quiet chuckle, allowing him to lead you out of the villa. 

“Oh, yeah? You’d just wait for me until I get home?”

“Exactly,” you teased. “I’ll obviously clean around the house, make sure dinner’s ready. All of that domestic stuff.”

“But you don’t know how to cook,” Harry teased.

“Hey! I’ve gotten better,” you laughed, gently nudging him with your shoulder. 

“Have you?” 

“Yes,” you answered. “You’re just too busy to come by for dinner. You just want to get straight to the good stuff,” you winked.

“Can you blame me?” Harry smirked. “Eating isn’t really my main concern whenever I’m around you.”

“Unless…”

“Unless I’m eating you,” he finished for you, leaning over to kiss the side of your neck. You giggled quietly, feeling the brush of his facial hair against your skin. 

“Look at us,” you smiled up at him. “We don’t really have to pretend, do we?” 

Harry glanced over at the set up of the dinner. String lights around the large trees, several long tables, and people already mingling with drinks in their hands. He looked back down at you. Savoring this small moment of privacy with you before having to surround himself with his family. 

“It’s easy with you,” he whispered. 

But what he wanted to say was that maybe he didn’t really need to pretend anyway. 

“Good,” you said softly, leaning up on your toes to lightly peck his lips. “It’s easy with you too, baby.”

Baby. Harry felt his heart skip a beat. He watched you pull away from him only so that you could greet his parents while he stood there, watching you with longing eyes. 

He pulled out his phone for a moment and scanned through his messages until he hovered on his matchmaker’s contact. Opening the message, Harry began typing. He didn’t want to meet anyone else. Harry just wanted you. 

But as he began typing, reality started to settle in. 

The only reason why this was working so well now was because you both were away from the real world. Here, in the Maldives, both you and Harry could just forget about the realities for a moment. But when you’d both get back to New York, this wouldn’t work. 

So, he deleted the message he was going to send and pocketed his phone. 

With a deep breath, Harry forced a smile and walked after you. 

You were at the water, dipping your toes in as you held the end of your dress just enough so that it wouldn’t get wet. In your other hand, you were holding a glass of wine, walking along the beach with Harry’s mother beside you. 

“You and Harry having a great time?” She asked.

You smiled. “We are. I—I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to be here,” you said. 

“Oh, please,” she laughed quietly, looping her arm with yours. “You’re family now.”

“Am I?” You smiled. “I mean… me and Harry—our relationship is still a bit new.” 

“Look,” his mother said, motioning towards the direction where Harry and his father were at. His eyes were already on yours, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a small glass of scotch. “He can’t stop looking at you, honey.”

“Oh,” you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. “That’s just—that’s just who he is.”

“Sure,” his mother replied. “But he’s never been like this with anyone else before. Not even with Lucy and he was going to propose to her.”

“Really?” 

She nodded. “Harry—he’s always found love and relationships difficult, you know? He’s a perfectionist too, so his view of a relationship isn’t quite like everyone else’s.”

You nodded in understanding. You assumed his need to have everything perfect might have been one of the reasons why he couldn’t ever settle down. 

“When something would get serious, he’d start nitpicking. Start realizing that the other person was no longer perfect in his eyes. One little thing and it was over… so when he told us he was going to propose to Lucy, I finally thought he was going to settle down.”

“But—”

“But, he didn’t love her.”

You nodded again. “He thought they were perfect for each other.” 

His mother nodded. “He did. On paper, they were compatible.” She stopped for a moment and turned to you. “But he never looked at her the way he looks at you.”

A sense of unease settled in your chest. Here you were, standing in front of his mother, lying to her face about the relationship you had with her son. You felt tears sting your eyes. “It’s just the Maldives,” you reasoned.

She laughed. “Do you love him?” 

“What?” You let go of your dress, not caring if it got wet. “I—I, um—”

“Okay,” she smiled reassuringly. “You haven’t told each other yet. That’s okay,” she said softly. 

You heard her name being called, some of her family members arriving. You nodded down at her and feigned a smile. “Thanks for walking with me,” you said. 

“You bring out a side of my Harry that I haven’t seen in a very long time,” she replied. “He’s comfortable. Doesn’t feel like he needs to carry everything.” 

You nodded, unsure of what you could say. “He’s—he’s a really good man.”

She smiled. “And you’re perfect for him.” 

Then, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving you standing in the water with the ends of your dress now drenched. 

Since your conversation with his mother, you had just continued to refill your glass of wine. The entire family were now seated, laughing amongst themselves, as the food was served. Harry was seated next to you, your chair close to his as you felt the heat of his body radiate against you. He kept his arm draped over the back of your seat, hand brushing along your shoulder as you both ate in silence. 

He was talking to someone from across the table, but you were in your own world. You couldn’t help but think back to your conversation with his mother. The things she said started making you think of Harry differently now.  

He never looked at her the way he looks at you. 

You bring out a side of him that I haven’t seen in a very long time. 

You’re perfect for him.

You’re perfect for him.

You’re perfect for him.

“Hey,” he whispered quietly into your ear, pulling you out of your thoughts abruptly that you flinched. His brows furrowed as he looked down at you. “You okay? You’re… quiet.”

“Yeah,” you answered quickly. “I’m fine.”

Harry nodded. “How’s the food?”

“Good.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed and turned his body just slightly to face you. He pulled your chair closer to his. “Okay, what’s going on?” He whispered again. 

“Nothing,” you answered. “Can you get me another glass?” 

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Harry answered.

You sighed. You knew he was right. 

“Are you… are you uncomfortable?” He asked quietly.

You turned to look up at him now. Concern etched on his features. 

“What? N—No, not at all.”

“Then, what?” 

You shook your head and reached up to cup his cheek. You feigned a smile and lightly pecked his lips. “I’m okay, Harry. Really.” You pulled back to look up at him. Still, he wasn’t buying it, but he knew now wasn’t the time to get into it. 

“Okay,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” you lied. 

Then, another man from across the table chimed in. He looked to be a younger than Harry, maybe closer to Peter’s age. He was dressed in a white button up shirt, sleeves folded to his elbows and you could tell he already had too much to drink. 

“So, how did you two get together? I was expecting Lucy,” he laughed.

Harry straightened in his seat. His hand dropped from the back of your chair only to rest it on your thigh. “Lucy didn’t work out.”

“Ah,” he said. “So, this is the rebound.”

He tightened his jaw. You moved a hand over his. 

“Did you bring anyone here?” You asked, tilting your head. “Because I don’t see anyone with you.” 

His cheeks reddened. “No, I didn’t bring anyone.” 

“Right.”

An older woman, likely this man’s mother, gently smacked his arm. “Be nice, Carlos.”

“Sorry, mama,” he muttered. “Sorry, Harry.” 

You leaned against Harry and slowly ran your thumb over the back of his hand. You felt him relax next to you. Carlos’s mother looked between the two of you with a soft smile before she raised her glass for her son to refill. 

He did without hesitation, standing from the table and walking away.

“I’m sorry about him,” she said. “You know he gets.”

Harry sighed and nodded. 

“You two—you look good together,” she smiled.

You looked up at Harry, only to find him already staring down at you. “I’d hope so,” you teased. 

She laughed quietly. “Harry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this smitten before,” she said. 

You cleared your throat. Again, you thought back to what his mother said. Did everyone else see it but you? 

Harry felt his cheeks flush. He looked away from you for a moment and shrugged a shoulder. “She’s beautiful,” he said softly. “Why wouldn’t I look smitten?” 

“Well, she is beautiful,” she agreed. “But you’ve been with beautiful women before. You’ve just never looked at them the way you do her.” 

Harry pulled his hand from your thigh. It felt like he just got caught. He couldn’t look at you, especially now that someone else—someone who didn’t know you—said the same thing his mother had told him before. 

“Ah,” you smiled. “I must be special then,” you teased.

Harry finally looked at you. “You are,” he blurted out.

Your brows lifted. 

Everyone around the table swooned and awwed. 

“Your mother said that this all started at a coffee shop?”

You nodded, slowly looking away from him. “And then, I asked him out to dinner. Right, baby?”

Harry nodded. “She did. It’s one of the things I love about her—she goes after what she wants.”

You stiffened next to him. 

He did too.

One of the things I love about her…

It slipped.

Harry didn’t meant to say it like that. 

“Kissed him that night too,” you said softly, forcing out quiet laugh. 

Everyone at the table chuckled. 

“What do you love about him?” Someone asked.

You cleared your throat. You hesitated before looking up at him. “I love… I love how selfless he is. He always makes sure that the people he cares about is taken care of.”

Another person at the table grinned. “Sounds like you’d be a great father, Harry.”

Your eyes widened.

Harry’s jaw clenched. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously. “Maybe one of these days, but not anytime soon.”

“Well, you aren’t getting any younger,” someone said.

You looked over at him. 

Harry was about to say something before soft music began playing. He let out a shaky breath and felt relief wash over him once everyone from the table stood and walked towards the sound of the music. That left you and him sitting at the table, the topic of conversation now lingering between the both of you.

“Sorry,” he whispered. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“Are you okay?”

You nodded.

“Are we okay?” 

You sighed. “Harry—”

“If this is too much, you need to let me know. That was one of our rules.”

“Doesn’t feel like we’re following our rules anymore, don’t you think?” You blurted out. 

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He sighed. 

Peter called your name. 

Then he called Harry’s. 

The both of you looked away from each other to glance up at Peter who was dancing slowly with Charlotte. 

“Join us, you two lovebirds!” He called out. 

“We’re good, Peter!” 

You shook your head. “We should dance.” 

“What?” Harry asked. 

“We still… have to pretend.”

He nodded. “Right, okay.” 

Harry stood from the table and extended a hand out for you. You slid your hand into his and felt him lead you towards where everyone else was. Slowly, Harry pulled you to his chest, one hand on your lower back and the other keeping your hand close against him. Your free hand moved to his shoulder as you stared up at him. 

Peter chuckled next to the both of you, shaking his head at how lost you two were in each other’s eyes. 

There are days I wake up and I pinch myself You're with me, not someone else And I'm scared, yeah, I'm still scared That it's all a dream

Harry kept you close to him. He leaned down and rested his forehead against yours. Unshed tears glistened in your eyes as you stared at him. The both of you swayed to the song, everyone at the dinner now fading away until it was just the two of you.

When you say You love the way I make you feel Everything becomes so real Don't be scared, no, don't be scared 'Cause you're all I need

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For doing this. For agreeing to it all.” 

“I’d do anything for you, Harry,” you said quietly. You blinked a few times, tears now trickling down your cheek slowly. He moved his hand from your own to gently wipe your tears away, lightly pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

And you still look perfect as days go by Even the worst ones, you make me smile I'd stop the world if it gave us time

“You’re crying,” he said softly. 

“I’m not.”

He sighed. “Baby…”

All my life I thought it'd be hard to find The one 'til I found you And I find it bittersweet 'Cause you gave me something to lose

“I don’t deserve you,” Harry said, his voice trembling. 

“Yeah, you don’t,” you teased.

He smiled, relaxing instantly. Harry moved both hands to lock together at your lower back as he pulled you against him. “What if… what if we don’t ever have go back to New York?” 

“What?” 

“I can work remotely. You can be my stay at home girlfriend,” he answered 

You smiled.

So did Harry. 

You moved your cheek to rest against his chest, eyes falling shut as the song continued to play in the background. 

'Cause when you love someone You open up your heart When you love someone You make room If you love someone And you're not afraid to lose 'em You probably never loved someone like I do You probably never loved someone like I do

Later that night, when everyone had gone back to their villas, Charlotte was sitting at the edge of her bed, staring down at the message on her phone. 

Peter stepped into the room and tilted his head. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. Charlotte forced a smile and turned her phone off. “Ready for bed?” 

“Yeah,” he smiled, climbing into the bed and pulling her with him. “Did you see Harry tonight?” 

She nodded. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before,” Peter chuckled. “Wanna bet that they’re gonna get engaged soon?” 

Charlotte looked over at him. “Peter…”

“What?” 

“Harry’s signed up with Adore, did you know that?” 

His brow furrowed. “No, why would he be with Adore?” 

“Lucy—she said that he’s got like five matches and that his matchmaker’s already got dates scheduled for when he gets back to New York.” 

Peter tightened his jaw. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Do you think she’s lying?” Charlotte asked. “I told her that he was here with someone else and—and well, maybe she’s lying?” 

“She better be,” he whispered. “Because Harry isn’t a cheater.” 

“And what if is the truth?” She whispered. “God, he’s gonna break her heart.”

“No,” Peter shook his head. “I’ll—I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning. You take her out for breakfast or something.”

She nodded. “For what it’s worth, I hope Lucy was lying.”

Peter sighed and grabbed his phone, sending Harry a quick text about tomorrow. His older brother gave him a thumbs up as a response. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I think he loves her,” Charlotte added. “And I don’t think he’s told her yet.” 

Peter looked down at her. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“And maybe it’s because of this, because of Adore.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Let’s just… try and get some sleep. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.” 

It was never going to be an ordinary day.

Harry knew that the moment the sweating executive across the table began rambling about everything except the answer to his very simple question.

“We invested ten million dollars into this project,” Harry says, his voice carrying the authority of a man who has built business empires out of nothing. “Where did it all go?”

The man stutters, fingers nervously adjusting his glasses.

It thins Harry’s patience, already razor-thin after two days of half-truths and expensive lunches that led nowhere.

His brother, Peter, smoothly steps in, guiding the conversation into friendlier territory until the cowardly businessman finally admits the investment was mismanaged—but promises they will generate the profit needed to repay them and move forward with the project.

“We’ll believe it when we see it. Our lawyers will be in touch.” Irritated by the endless bullshit, Harry rises from his seat without another word.

He strides out, leaving Peter behind to close the meeting with a touch more professionalism.

In the lobby, Harry scrolls through his phone, arranging his private flight back to Manhattan.

The entire trip has been a waste of time and resources. A reminder that most people only want to take advantage of his family’s money and name. 

They had suspected the money was being mishandled from the start. Harry had pushed to send the legal team and be done with it, but his brother had insisted on this face-to-face meeting just in case things weren’t what they seemed.

So much for that.

Peter appears a moment later, loosening his tie with a sigh. “I knew you were tense, but I didn’t think you’d let him see it.”

“He was wasting our time and I have a loaded schedule waiting for me stateside,” Harry mutters, falling into step beside him as they exit into the golden morning light.

The sun spills generously over the area, bathing the elegant streets in warmth and turning the sea beyond into a glittering expanse of sapphire. 

They slip on their expensive sunglasses as the valet brings around their luxury antique car.

“You know,” Peter adds casually “there’s a beautiful oceanfront resort not far from here. Private beach. Incredible views. You could stay a few more days.”

Harry lets out a short, dry chuckle. Is he serious? “And do what? Have a spa day? Get a massage?”

“Yes,” Peter grins. “Stop spreading yourself so thin and have some fun.”

Harry rolls his eyes, tongue pressing against his cheek.

Fun. The word tastes bitter.

The last time he let himself do just that, the woman he was seeing left him for her broke ex.

Ever since, he’s buried himself in his work, which isn’t necessarily too different from how involved he usually is.

However, with his mother’s retirement looming on the horizon, he intends to be more than ready to step into the role of Chief Executive Officer; which means he’s been picking up extra responsibilities within the company.

Security and control—those are things Harry Castillo understands, and he can’t let something as trivial as having fun distract him from the bigger picture of his career.

Their car glides to a smooth stop in front of them. The young valet hops out and Peter tips him generously before they both get in.

“All I’m saying is things are in good hands back home, so if that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be,” he continues as he buckles his seatbelt. “Ever since Lucy—”

Harry shoots him a sideways glance, but his brother ignores it entirely.

“Ever since you came back from Iceland, you’ve been so rigid. It’d be good for you to loosen up and get out of your head before the promotion takes over your life.”

Harry rolls the window down, letting the warm sea breeze rush in, scented with summer itself.

The beautiful streets of Monte-Carlo unfold around them: whitewashed buildings draped in vibrant bougainvillea, shops and restaurants pulling in the morning crowd.

Since the breakup (mutual as it was) he has grown more guarded, more rigid, as Peter so eloquently put it.

Overworking himself during the day has kept him distracted enough, but at night in his penthouse, with a glass of chardonnay in hand, Lucy’s absence has carved out a hollow space inside him.

For the first time in his life, he feels truly heartbroken. It serves as a stark reminder that romance is a risk he no longer cares to take.

It’s easier to approach relationships like long-term investments rather than an actual, intimate connection.

They stop at an intersection. Peter nudges him, pointing toward the scenic coastline.

“Look at that view,” he whistles, adjusting his sunglasses. “Who wouldn’t want to get lost in that?”

The water sparkles under the sun. People lounge on the sand, others swim in the shallow water, and a few yachts drift lazily in the distance.

The beauty of it appeals to him more than expected. He supposes his brother has a point—the last few months have been nothing but long days filled with grueling business meetings and lonely city nights.

Maybe a few days of doing nothing in paradise won’t actually kill him.

His decision crystallizes in that moment.

“For once,” Harry says, a small smile tugging at his lips as Peter laughs in triumph, “you might be right. It is very beautiful here.”

“There are worse places to be.”

Harry hums in agreement, pulling out his phone and canceling his flight back to New York. 

You’ve been mostly inland for the past month—wandering misty green hills in Ireland, chasing history through the UK, and slowly making your way down to the stunning French Riviera.

It has been the kind of trip that rewires your soul.

Now you’re in Monaco, kicking off the coastal chapter of your long awaited summer escape. 

The views here are almost too beautiful to be real. Water stretches endlessly toward the horizon and pastel buildings cascade down the hills like something out of a painting.

You can’t wait to lose yourself in it.

Right now, you’re laying out on a plush lounger beside the resort’s infinity pool, bikini hugging your sun-warmed skin.

Headphones in, your favorite summer track pulses softly in your ears as a light sheen of sweat kisses your collarbones and thighs.

You’ve been out here for hours, lazily sipping mimosas until the world has taken on that perfect, fuzzy glow.

God, you haven’t felt truly peaceful in… well, longer than you care to admit. 

Between the endless hours at your interior design firm, the partnership with your husband and his brother that blurred every line between work and home, and the slow unraveling of your four-year marriage… you’d forgotten what it meant to put yourself first.

This trip is your rebellion. Your indulgence. Your chance to be gloriously selfish for once.

With a contented sigh, you slip one earbud out and push your sunglasses up to rest on top of your head. 

The bright Mediterranean light makes you squint as you lazily scan the pool area. It’s perfectly balanced—not too crowded, not too empty. 

Most guests cluster near the bar on the far side, laughter and conversation drifting across the water.

That’s when your gaze catches on him.

A handsome stranger is already watching you. Tall, dark curly hair, confident posture even while leaning against the bar.

His eyes are kind and intense at the same time. You don’t know how to feel about it.

You offer him a polite smile.

He returns it, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that sends a small spark of interest through you, before he turns back to the bartender.

The heat is starting to cling too heavily to your skin. You rise gracefully, stretching your arms overhead, letting the sun worship every inch of you for a moment.

You adjust the strings of your bathing suit, then pad around the edge of the pool and dive in with a smooth, clean entry.

The cool water is pure bliss. It swallows you whole, washing away the morning’s warmth as you glide beneath the surface.

When you break through, you push wet strands of hair from your face and smile to yourself, savoring the way the water caresses your skin.

You swim a few lazy laps, rediscovering the rhythm of your strokes. You haven’t swam properly in years.

Eventually, the craving for something sweeter pulls you toward the submerged swim-up bar.

You swim to the smooth ledge and settle onto one of the underwater stools, ordering once you get the bartender’s attention.

“Coconut mojito, please.”

The resort is everything Peter mentioned and more.

Harry checked in not much longer after that car ride with his brother, changing into swim trunks and a light button-down, heading down to the pool with no real plan except to sit in the sun and remind himself he’s still capable of relaxing.

He ordered a tequila sunrise at the bar, the sweet burn of it loosening the knot at the base of his neck.

That’s when he saw you, and he swore his heart stopped for just a split second. 

You were laying there completely oblivious, enjoying the early afternoon so at ease that Harry almost envied how serene you looked.

And the bathing suit you have on? He kept his gaze respectful, but the pull in his gut was immediate. 

Then you made eye contact, smiled at him, and that was enough to get the man’s resolve to crack just a little bit.

You’re absolutely gorgeous.

Harry didn’t approach you or anything like that, obviously, since he’s not here for complications. Just a few quiet days to breathe before diving back into the labyrinth of his family’s empire.

So he decided to lounge at the bar in the water, taking off his button down before getting in and making small talk with the man behind the tiled counter as he waited for his drink.

But now… here you are. Sliding onto the space right beside him, water droplets tracing shimmering paths down your shoulders.

He’s already three—no, four—tequila sunrises deep. Liquid courage has a way of making him disregard his stance on making a move.

“You can charge it to my room,” Harry intervenes smoothly when the bartender turns to prepare your drink.

You glance over, one eyebrow arching in pleasant surprise.

The light catches the small hoops in your ears and the layered necklaces resting against your collarbone. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

You flash him that same smile from earlier, the one that made his pulse jump.

Up close, you’re even more striking—curves accentuated by your bathing suit, skin glowing with a thin layer of sunscreen.

The bartender returns with your cocktail. You thank him softly, then lift your glass toward Harry in a cheerful toast.

He mirrors the motion. Your glasses clink under the bright blue sky.

“Mmm, delicious,” you murmur after the first sip.

Harry wonders if that's an invitation to indulge in small talk.

It is.

“Is that your go-to order?” he asks, turning slightly toward you, the cool water lapping gently at your waists.

“No,” you answer, leaning forward against the colorful bar top, your gold jewelry gleaming with every small movement. “I’m usually an espresso martini girl, but I’m trying to break out of my routines. What about you?”

You nod toward the vibrant orange drink in his hand. “What are you drinking?”

“Tequila sunrise,” he says with a small grin. “Not my usual either. But it felt right for this setting.”

You take another slow sip through the straw, the mint and lime bright on your tongue. “So what is your usual?”

“A rich bourbon on the rocks.” His eyes drift briefly to your lips as you hum in response, licking a stray drop from them.

The motion is innocent, but it sends heat curling through him.

“Here’s to trying new things,” you say, raising your glass again with a mischievous glint in your eye.

You clink once more, and this time Harry can’t look away.

With the way the afternoon sun paints everything in gold and rose and how the distant laughter of other guests provides ambient background noise—it all feels like the opening notes of something… delightful.

“Do you usually stare this hard,” you tease lightly, “or do I have something on my face?”

Harry feels the faintest blush creep up his neck—completely out of character for him. He’s usually quick with a charming retort or flirtatious compliment.

He blames the tequila… and you.

“Sorry,” he replies with a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just find you to be a very gorgeous woman. Your partner is a lucky person.”

You tense for the briefest second, but you brush it off with an easy giggle. “And what makes you think I have a partner?”

“A beautiful woman like yourself? Surely someone has already made their move.”

Your eyes narrow as you study him, reading the confident lines of his face, the expensive watch glinting on his wrist, the kind warmth in his deep brown eyes.

The way you’re looking at him sobers Harry up just enough to realize he might be coming on too strong.

“Well,” you finally break the small silence, leaning in a little closer. 

The scent of chlorine, coconut sunscreen, and something sweetly flora hits his nose and it makes him feel a little lightheaded. 

“Someone is making their move… and I think he thinks he’s bombing it entirely.” You can’t help but tease. “He isn’t, though. But he could buy me another drink if he really wants to make a good first impression.”

Harry blinks, momentarily stunned. Then realization hits like sunlight breaking through clouds—you’re flirting back.

A slow, genuine smile spreads across his face as he straightens his posture and flags the bartender with newfound confidence.

“Another round,” he tells the man, not taking his eyes off you. “And keep them coming.”

The rest of the afternoon stretches lazily, conversation flowing as easily as the drinks.

For the first time in months, Harry feels the walls he’s built around himself beginning to melt under the warmth of your presence.

And you—lost in the freedom of this trip and the magnetic pull of this charming stranger—start to wonder just how far this unexpected spark might take you.

Eventually, Harry suggests moving to a shaded cabana nearby, and you happily agree.

The two of you settle into the oversized daybed draped with crisp white linens. The sheer curtains flutter lazily in the sea breeze.

As you get more comfortable, friendly touches linger just a second longer than necessary—his fingers brushing yours when passing a drink, your knee grazing his thigh as you shift closer.

The chemistry is hard to ignore.

You lean back against the cushions, legs tucked beneath you, and swirl the straw in your drink with a teasing smile.

“You know, I thought all billionaires were supposed to be pretentious and complete assholes. So far, I’m not getting that from you. Like, at all.”

Harry chuckles, moving closer, his brown eyes catching the sunlight as he rests one arm along the back of the daybed.

“That would be an accurate assumption. We are pretentious and assholes.” He says, truthfully. “I just happen to be aware of it and know when it’s best to let those unfortunate characteristics shine.”

He gives your figure a suave once over. “Sitting here with a beautiful woman doesn’t seem like the best time to be pretentious or an asshole, does it?

You take a slow sip from your mojito, deliberately holding his gaze. “Smooth talker. Do you practice answers like that in the mirror, or do they come naturally like the private jet?”

“Naturally. Especially when you look at me with that sparkle in your eye and in a bikini that should come with its own warning label.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you don’t look away.

Instead, you bite your lip, tilting your head with a flirtatious look.

“Warning label, huh? Please. Nothing mischievous about me. I’m just here to soak up the sun and forget real life exists for a while. You, on the other hand...”

You reach out and lightly tap the center of his chest, right where his shirt would button if it were fully fastened.

“Might not be an asshole but you do have that whole ‘I negotiate with fate itself’ energy about you. I bet you even schedule spontaneous moments in your calendar.”

His grin dimples, a playful challenge sparkling in his eyes as he leans in a fraction. “Guilty, but I’ll have you know that I canceled my flight back home on a whim. That’s practically rebellious for me.”

You raise your glass in a toast. “To rebellion... and learning how to be at ease.”

He clinks your drink gently against his, the ice chiming like a secret promise.

“This might just be the best detour of my summer yet.”

The breeze stirs the cabana curtains again, wrapping the two of you in the sweet tension of a budding romance.

Eventually, the sun begins its slow descent, painting the sky in rich strokes of tangerine and deep violet.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Harry asks, realizing only now you haven’t properly introduced yourself with how wrapped up you both have been in the easy conversations.

You giggle softly. “We really skipped right past that, didn’t we?”

“If my mother were here, she’d scold me for not introducing myself properly,” he extends a large, warm hand toward you. “I’m Harry.”

“Harry,” you repeat, letting the name roll off your tongue like you’re tasting it.

You slip your hand into his, noting how perfectly it fits, feeling the buzz from the sun and drinks and now his touch. 

“I’m…” You glance down at the small sun tattoo on your wrist before meeting his eyes again. “I’m Sol.”

“What a beautiful name.”

“I’ll make sure to thank my parents on your behalf.”

Harry’s laugh is genuine and rich, paired with an easy smile that softens the frown lines of his handsome face.

“Well, Sol, forgive me for being too forward… but I would love to take you out to dinner tonight.”

Whatever this is—he doesn’t want it to end when the sun sets. Contrary to how gloomy and pessimistic he’s been about romance as of late. 

Your eyebrows shoot up in delighted surprise. “Tonight? As in, tonight tonight?”

“Not sure what other tonight there is, but yes. Only if you’d like.”

You bite your lip, the white rum humming pleasantly through your veins as you weigh the invitation.

Harry is unlike anyone you’ve met in a long time. Charming without trying too hard, confident but not arrogant.

Talking to him feels dangerously easy.

Part of you whispers that you should keep this light, enjoy the afternoon and walk away with a perfect vacation memory to tell your girlfriends back home over brunch. 

After all, he’s returning to New York soon, and you’re only at the beginning of the second half of your summer escape and in the middle of a very messy separation. 

But those eyes… those deep, kind, captivating eyes are making it nearly impossible to say no.

With a pretty, tipsy smile, you nod. “I’d love that, Harry. How about we meet in the lobby at eight?”

He tries—and fails—to hide the spark of excitement in his expression. Glancing at the expensive watch on his wrist, he notes the current time.

“That sounds perfect.”

With that, you get up to gather your things. Harry helps, also grabbing his belongings, and both of you walk back into the building together.

“I’m looking forward to dinner. Thanks for this afternoon… It was very fun.” 

Fun. There’s that word again. If Peter were here right now, he’d be saying I told you so in varying boastful ways.

“As am I. Thank you for indulging me.” 

You flash him another dazzling smile, and with that, both of you part ways.

You meet in the lobby at eight o’clock on the dot, the soft glow of chandeliers twinkling over the marble floors of the open area.

You’ve chosen a flowy summer dress in soft coral that makes your body look delectable, a fresh bikini hidden beneath for whatever the night might bring.

Keeping your makeup as natural yet accentuating as possible, you’ve made sure to apply your favorite lip gloss and sprayed just enough perfume to be that more alluring. 

Harry is waiting for you near the grand entrance, looking effortlessly handsome: a crisp light button-down rolled at the sleeves, tailored shorts, and his usually slicked-back curls now loose and fluffy.

In his hands rests a thoughtfully arranged bouquet of pink summer roses, delicate lilies, and cheerful daisies—perfectly color-coordinated as if he put meticulous care into choosing every bloom.

The sight of him makes your stomach flutter. Goodness, he really is so hot.

“You look incredible,” Harry compliments once he sees you, his warm brown eyes lighting up with obvious appreciation of how effortlessly gorgeous you look as he offers you the flowers.

You accept the bouquet with a genuine smile, inhaling the sweet floral scent. “These are beautiful, Harry. Thank you.”

He offers his arm like a true gentleman, and the two of you stroll down toward the private beach path, the distant sound of waves growing louder with every step.

“Where exactly are we going?” You can’t help but ask, taking in how beautiful the coastline looks at this time of night.

“It’s a surprise.”

He’s rented a secluded cove just for the two of you. When you arrive, your breath hitches in your throat.

A beautifully arranged beachside picnic waits under a canopy of sheer white fabric that billows gently in the breeze.

There’s plush cushions and a low table overflowing with vibrant summer fruits—ripe peaches, berries, slices of mango—alongside an elegant spread of fresh seafood, crusty bread, cheeses, and chilled wine. 

Lanterns flicker softly, casting gentle shadows across the sand as the waves foam against the shore.

“This is… possibly one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me,” you admit without thinking, a little breathless as he helps you settle onto the cushions.

Holy shit.

Harry’s smile is modest but pleased. “Good. That was the goal.”

The dinner unfolds like a scene from a romance movie. You talk for hours as stars pierce the clear night sky.

He tells you about growing up in New York, his love for the energy of the city but his quiet craving for serene moments like this. He’s glad his brother talked him into extending the trip.

You laugh at his dry humor, tease him about being a secret romantic, and flirt shamelessly in return. Your husband doesn’t cross your mind once.

When he asks about your life, you keep things intentionally vague: a few charming stories from your travels, your passion for design and beautiful spaces, but nothing that might pop this perfect bubble you’ve found yourself in.

Two bottles of expensive, crisp white wine disappear between shared bites of food.

It loosens your limbs, drawing you closer to him on the cushions.

Harry’s hand rests on your bare knee. It makes you shiver despite the breeze that flows by being warm.

Your head rests against his shoulder as the night turns more intimate.

He turns to you, his face inches from yours, eyes dark with want.

“Have you ever wanted to do something so impulsive,” he murmurs, gaze falling down to your glossy lips then back up to your eyes. “that it makes you wonder if you’re really as brave as you thought you were?”

You let out a soft sigh, the question hitting closer to home than he could ever possibly know. “Yes.”

He studies your features for a moment, then asks: “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering with words, you lean in and press your lips to his.

It starts tender but quickly ignites, all that pent-up longing you’ve both been carrying in your respective lives pours out between you.

You climb onto his lap, straddling his thighs as your flowy summer dress rides up around your hips. Harry’s hands instinctively settle on your waist, gripping you with a quiet groan of approval as you settle against him.

Your fingers thread through his curly hair, tugging lightly as the kiss deepens passionately. Harry responds with equal fervor, one hand sliding up your back while the other grips your thigh, pulling you flush against him.

Your bodies move together instinctively. Tongues dance, teasing and tasting wine and summer on each other’s lips.

You rock subtly in his lap, feeling his swelling erection against your inner thigh. It makes the pulsing at your core intensify. You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this desired.

His hands roam freely now; tracing the curve of your waist, skimming over warm skin beneath the thin fabric of your dress, thumbs brushing dangerously close to the edge of your tied bikini.

When you finally pull back, you repeat his earlier question back to him with a playful smirk. “Have you ever wanted to do something so impulsive…?”

You have him completely at the edge of his metaphorical seat, every nerve alive with anticipation.

His lips are swollen from your playful nips. “Yes.”

Without warning, you rise from the picnic setup with a wicked grin

You slip out of your dress, letting it pool at your feet and revealing the stunning silhouette of your body. 

His eyes widen in a mix of surprise and desire as you peel off your bikini top and toss it playfully at his chest, exposing your chest to him.

Harry’s mouth goes dry.

You kick away your bottoms and skip toward the moonlit ocean, your laughter ringing like music across the sand.

“C’mon! Don’t make me swim alone!”

He doesn’t hesitate long after that. Harry strips down and joins you in the warm, silky water. 

He can’t believe he’s doing this. Just this morning he was ready to sign off the idea of letting loose for good… and then you appeared and completely swept him off his feet.

Naked skin meets naked skin as the gentle waves lap around you both.

Harry presses his broad body against yours, hands sliding down the slick curve of your waist, gripping the soft swell of your hips, then gliding up to cup your breasts.

You moan softly, throwing your arms around his neck and angling yourself to kiss his lips.

A low groan vibrates from his chest and into your mouth as your hardened nipples brush against his skin with every sway.

One of his hands drifts lower, possessively squeezing the fullness of your ass, pulling you tighter so you can feel exactly how hard and ready he is for you.

And holy shit is he packing a very generous package. 

“As pleasurable as I imagine it would be, I can’t sleep with you tonight, Harry.”

He’s so dizzy with lust that it’s almost disorienting. “That’s fine. There are no expectations. However, I am only human…” He says in regard to the hard on he’s currently sporting.

“Trust me, I feel it too in my own way.” You bite your lip and pull away before things escalate.

You’re not sure you want to cross that line just yet—but he’s making it seem very, very enticing.

To keep things playful, you splash him with a cheeky wave of your hand then immediately try to wade away.

Harry is a lot quicker. His strong arm loops around your waist, pulling your slippery body back against his chest with an amused laugh.

While holding you firmly in place, he retaliates with a splash of his own, sending sparkling droplets cascading all over you.

You squeal with laughter as the two of you playfully wrestle in the waves, all tangled limbs and breathless giggles under the stars.

The walk back to the hotel feels like you’re floating.

Harry’s hand rests lightly at the small of your back as you stroll along the string-lit path. The night air is perfumed with sea salt and night-blooming jasmine.

You feel like you’re in a modern fairytale.

Every touch sends sparks up your arm, shared glances carrying the delicious weight of everything that just happened between you in such a short amount of time.

When you reach the lobby, you turn to face him, cheeks still warm.

“I had an amazing time tonight,” you tell him softly, meaning every word. “Truly. Thank you for everything.”

Harry steps closer, his brown curls more prominent now from the texture of the saltwater.

“Truth be told: I’m not ready for this night to end. I want to keep seeing you… if you’ll let me.” His voice drops, laced with quiet hope that you want to continue whatever the hell this is. “May I have your number? So we can stay in touch while you’re here?”

You hesitate for half a second—your real life flickering somewhere in the back of your mind—but the pull of this amazing man and the rejuvenated summer version of yourself tugs you from those thoughts.

You give him the number to your flip phone (the burner you bought specifically for this trip) and he programs it into his phone with a boyish grin that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. 

Then leans in and kisses you.

It’s sweet, feeling like the beginning of something far bigger than a fleeting summer fling… even if neither of you vocalizes it.

“Goodnight, Sol,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

You slip away from him, the bouquet of flowers cradled gently in your arms. You step into the waiting elevator and press the button for your floor, your eyes never leaving his until the mirrored doors glide shut between you.

Once you’re inside your room, you close the door behind you and let out a soft sigh as you slide down against the wood, knees literally weak.

Today was pure magic. The kind of day you’ll replay in your head for years.

You’re still smiling when you push yourself up, gently laying the flowers down on the console table, and heading toward the shower to rinse the salt from your skin.

That’s when your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Your heart does a hopeful little flip, hoping that Harry has caved already and decided to call you.

Couldn’t even wait until tomorrow… you think to yourself playfully, reaching for the small device. 

But the number on the tiny screen isn’t his.

It’s your husband.

The smile fades instantly. You stare at the phone for a long moment, everything inside you screaming not to answer.

But old habits (guilt, history, the tangled business partnership) win out.

You flip it open.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice flatter than it’s been all day.

“Finally,” his familiar Texas drawl fills the line, tight with worry. “Ain’t heard from ya since you left for Ireland a month ago.”

There’s a heavy silence that follows before he speaks up again. “You okay? Where are you right now?”

“I’m fine.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, the dreamy afterglow of your day with Harry dissipating with every word.

More silence.

“We need to talk about this. I know I’ve been distant but… we built somethin’ real together and I know we can fix it.”

Old resentment bubbles up. “It took me leaving the country for you to finally come to that realization? We’ve been roommates who share a business for the last two years. Not husband and wife.”

He lets out the kind of heavy sigh that used to make you soften and let your guard down.

“I know I’ve let you down. I’ve been putting the job first—hell, putting everythin’ first except us. But I’m here now, trying. Everyone’s been on my ass too, sayin’ I’m an idiot for letting you go on this trip alone. Just… tell me where you are. I’ll fly out. We’ll figure this out together.”

Together. You scoff and close your eyes, the weight of years of trying—and failing—pressing down on you. 

You’ve already grieved this marriage in silence for too long. Important dates he missed, dinners eaten alone, the way intimacy had slowly faded into plain coexistence.

You’re exhausted from carrying the hope for both of you.

“It’s too late for that,” you admit steadily, despite the ache that lingers. “I’m not coming home yet. I need this time for me.”

The line goes quiet for another moment.

“I miss you.”

“I missed you too, but I’m done missing someone who’s right next to me. Don’t call me again for a while, Joel.”

You end the call before he can respond, the finality of it settling heavy in your chest.

Setting the phone down, you finally undress and step into the shower, standing under the hot spray of the waterfall feature.

As eucalyptus scented steam fills the space, your mind drifts back to warm brown eyes, curly hair, and the way Harry looked at you like you were the most captivating thing he’s ever seen.

You allow yourself to sink fully into the possibility of what this summer—and this unexpected man—might blossom into.

A wistful, secret smile returns to your lips.

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He knew coming back to Solana was a mistake the moment he saw you walk into the room in that wedding dress.

Kriff, he knew it was a mistake when he received your father’s communique, but still accepted the invitation to return, somehow managing to convince himself that he would be able to handle it.

That was a mistake, too.

Din one hundred percent does not have a handle on it, himself or anything else.

He understood the danger he was opening his heart to in coming back, fully knowing that he would have to leave you again - which is why he didn’t bring Grogu; he thought he had properly weighed that inevitable torture against the heaven of seeing you again, hearing your voice once more, just being in the same room as your perfume – he could endure it. He told himself he had to.

Unfortunately, Din had grossly underestimated the hold you still have on him, while overestimating his own fortitude. 

From his very first glimpse of you stepping into the room, all reason flew out of the Mandalorian’s head.  Your graceful figure stopped his heart dead while the glow of your beautiful countenance shocked it back to life in an endless cycle.  You carried the silk masterpiece draping off your body so well, it was you who was the work of art, not the garment; barely breathing, Din likened this moment to visiting a painting after having only seen it in a holofilm – his memories and dreams of you didn’t hold a candle to the real thing.  The feared warrior was about to keel over and all you had done was walk across the room - you hadn’t even noticed him yet.

It was only when he heard your breathy thanks for his assistance with your dress that Din truly understood the magnitude of his error.  That’s all it took: you speaking to him one time and he was ready to throw away all semblance of decorum and honour, get on his knees and obey your every wish and desire - no matter how disastrous for either of you.  With great difficultly, Din forced himself to avert his gaze from your beautiful face - for fear that he might see some sign from you, real or imagined, that would give him permission to haul you over his shoulder and steal you out of the room.

This was the moment Din Djarin reconciled with the truth that he was indeed, a weak, weak man.  And a fiend.  Since that chance meeting with you on Coruscant, the absence of you dominated his every waking hour and plagued each sleepless night somehow more persistently than ever.  He was an addict, and you his drug of choice – after that sweet hit months ago, his mind, body and soul were constantly jonesing for more.

At the same exact time, Din realized the risk he exposed you to by returning.  To be in such close proximity and not be able to touch, kiss, or hold you was asking a level of restraint and control that he could no longer promise to embody.  If, for even a nanosecond, his heart believed he could reclaim the life he once shared with you, Din would surrender to his desires completely and discard any remaining sense of duty, decency. 

He had no qualms admitting he would happily sacrifice himself if only to taste the sweetness of your kiss again, to feel your soft body fold against his, to see you arch as he made you come over and over, hear you whimper his name as he filled you.  He would do it all even fully knowing it could be but a brief dream, a spelled mirage that would be broken once you married and he left again – the last time having nearly killed him, would Din have the strength to survive such a devastating blow twice?  He loved you enough to be willing to find out.

Dank Farrik. Perhaps his own downfall he could accept, but Din was unwilling to subject you to that same fate.  On Coruscant, in your inebriated state, you had been so candid and unguarded in admitting how deeply you had grieved, how hollow his leaving had left you – how could he force you to suffer the pain of separation again?  The sadness and hurt he witnessed in your pretty eyes that night haunt him to this day still – only a villain would risk your chance for future happiness just because he couldn’t control his damn self.

And what if he did something even more foolish than reaffirm his everlasting love for a woman he could never be with?  Like ask you to come with him?  To leave behind your entire life, your duty, your stupid fiancé?  Because, what if you came?  And for what?  A lone bounty hunter with few credits to his name and even less merit after he stole the Princess of a planet that has shown him and his son nothing but kindness and welcome?  A man with nothing but deserved shame and a small cabin on the outskirts of an insignificant planet in the Outer Rim.  You would forsake your honour and homeland, the love of your people, the future you’ve been working towards all your life for that?  For Din?  He would stain your reputation and that of your royal house for his own selfish desires, deprive you of the chance to start a family with your new husband and continue your illustrious line?  He could not.  You would resent him and certainly grow to hate him.  He would lose you all over again, only this time slow and tortuous. 

No, for both of you to survive, Din needed to cut himself off at the knees.  As unnatural as it felt, he had to build a defensive wall between you and his heart, blockading any hope of affection and tenderness, if he was to have a chance at protecting what was left of your peace.  You and him were always destined to end, but he would suffer now, alone in silence, if it meant lessening your agony in the future.

While your father made polite small talk, Din vowed himself to be a stranger to you so there would be no chance of falling into familiar old patterns, of seeking the intimacy of your company.  He steeled his body, tone, thoughts, and even his unseen facial expression to one of impassibility and indifference.  If the fires of his love for you did not burn so intensely, the coldness he forced himself to exude might have actually frozen over his heart.

He hid from you for as long as he could after leaving the East wing parlour, afraid of what even one moment alone with you would do to his defenses - but fate’s cruel sense of humour caught up with the Mandalorian as surely as did you in that stairwell.  Din drowns in his own regret and shame as he thinks back to this last conversation with you, likely the last the two of you will ever have – your palpable confusion and hurt had sent his heart reeling and beating violently against its Beskar cage, screaming and begging to be heard.

*****

“Din.”

“Princess.”  Yes, cyare. Cyar’ika. Mesh’la. Riduur.

“Din, can we go somewhere to talk?”

“What would we need to talk about, Princess?”  Anything you desire, mesh’la, but may I ask, only talk?  I wish desperately to hold you in my arms and kiss the honey of your lips once more. 

“Why have you come, Din?”

“Your father recalled me to review the adequacy of the security plans for your wedding; I’m here to ensure that your nuptials proceed without disruption.”  I missed you too much and I’m not strong enough to stay away anymore.  Every single day for the past year I’ve fought against it, but my path has always been to return to Solana and reunite with the part of myself that I left here with you. 

“You’ve come to help give me away?”

“Solana called, and I am here to fulfill my duty to its people.”  I would rather die, but I don’t have a choice.

“I thank you for your service, General.”

“Is there anything further, Princess?”  Please don’t cry, cyare - it kills me to hurt you like this.

“In your haste to leave previously, this was left behind; now that you’re here, General, it can be returned to its rightful owner.”

“I thank you, Princess.”  This is pendant, as with my heart, is yours and always will be.  I will find some way to return it to you so you will always have a piece of the Mandalorian who loves you, even if you hate me.  Ni kartyli gar darasuum (I love you).

*****

Din does everything in his power to avoid you for the rest of the day, but the image of your crestfallen face and the despair with which you proclaimed he’s forgotten you follow him like an unrelenting wraith, gloomy and accusatory.  Even when he goes to the training grounds to reunite with his former comrades, the invisible string that tethers him to you for always tugs until he cannot ignore its pull any longer – he instinctively looks up to the southside tower and sees you waiting for him, as you have so many times before, in that secret spot.

The Mandalorian wishes to go to you more than anything - it would be so easy for him to take off and fly into your waiting arms, but the consequences of doing so keep him firmly grounded; the ripping of his heart would only be temporarily mended if he gave in now, just to tear open later into an merciless chasm of pain that would swallow you both.  So, Din pretends not to see you - he fists his hands so hard his palms hurt, just so he isn’t tempted to adjust his helmet display to zoom in on your beauty, and he distracts himself with the comradery of the men under his former command.  When it comes time to file into the castle, he forces himself to do so without checking if you’re still on the turret. 

Dinner comes and goes.  Din is in equal measures disappointed and relieved when Serene announces that you’ve retired early after a full day, and he’s still conflicted when the time comes to bring his plate back to his old room to eat alone.  But once inside his former quarters, self-flagellation wins out – the knowledge that you’re somewhere near, hurting, and he cannot comfort you sits like a pit in Din’s stomach.  That you truly believe him to no longer care for you unsettles the Mandalorian to the point of nausea – appetite gone, he cannot bring himself to eat even one bite.

He decides to go for a calming walk around the castle instead.  There’s a storm rolling in now; the percussive sounds of rain and thunder a welcomed accompaniment to the wild beating of Din’s heart.  He’s loved Solanian rainstorms ever since that night in the Solana countryside when he bore the skin of his body to you for the first time, while the outside torrential downpour enveloped and muffled the sounds of your perfect first lovemaking.

About to do a third turn of the hallways in the West wing, Din’s sensors pick up on the commotion of scurrying feet above him, the addition of harsh, frantic tones lead him upstairs to investigate.  His instincts kick in at the sight of Serene and Olivia’s panicked expressions and pleading gestures to a small group of the Royal Guard; upon hearing the thunder of the Mandalorian’s approach, the crowd falls silent and turns towards the noise.

“General!” The guards stand at attention and both your lady’s maids look relieved at Din’s appearance. 

“What’s wrong?” The General’s heart pounds – it already knows the answer.

The two women look at each other, unsure, before Olivia pipes up, “It’s the Princess, General.  She’s missing and we cannot find her anywhere.”

“When and where is the last time she was seen?”

“In her bedchambers. Right after…” Olivia falters awkwardly, not sure how much to reveal in front of the Guard; Serene saves her, “… after you left her on the stairs this afternoon, General.”  The anger in her voice is unheard by most among them, but not Din; to him it’s loud and well deserved.

But he cannot dwell on that right now.  Military precision and strategic mind snapping into place, Din lays out a search plan to cover as much area as possible in as little time as possible, then dispatches his men.  He himself runs straight to the South tower.

The rage of the outside storm provides cover for the echoing boom of his heavy footsteps, but nothing can quiet the yell inside Din’s head as he races through the castle, no, no, please no.  He reaches the door to your secret meeting place in record time, hoping against hope that another member of the legion has already found you.

The door is stuck. 

Din pushes and pulls the jammed handle.  He throws his weight against the thick paneling.  The narrowness of the spiraled staircase leading to this remote area of the castle prevents him from getting the leadup he needs, but still he tries over and over to shove his way through to the outside.  Huffing and out of breath, Din adjusts the infrared reader on his internal display to see what’s beyond the door.

Nothing.  Thank goodness.  Out of habit, he does a secondary scan to make sure before turning to go.

Wait.

Barely perceptible and flickering so quickly he nearly missed it, a subtle flush of warmth shimmers small and faint on Din’s HUD.  The Mandalorian recalibrates his sensors so that the heat signature materializes slightly more in focus; now that he knows where to look, he can make out a shape on the ground.  It barely glows, dimming and flashing erratically.  It’s dying.

No!

Ready to burn down the door, Din’s blaster is out of his holster faster than he can think; he shoots at the lock until it’s mangled and smoking and then shoulders his entire body weight against the door until it splinters open.  He fights against the howl of the wind now rushing to enter the castle in order to get to you, cape whipping around his body, rain slicing against his visor.

Skidding across the slippery wet stone floor, the great warrior drops to his knees in one frantic motion to hover over your unmoving body, trying to shield you from the rain.  It makes no difference, your clothes and hair are so drenched and waterlogged they practically pin you to the floor, every part of you is wet and you’re so, so cold. 

“Cyare, please, wake up, please, please,” Din pats your face gently, trying to dry and warm your cheeks with his gloves to no avail, “wake up, please.  Come back, come back to me.”  You make no response, face ghoulishly unmoving, unnatural hue taking over your countenance.

Fear like he’s only ever felt when Grogu’s been in harm’s way grips onto Din’s insides and twists. 

No, no, no, please, no.  It cannot end like this.  I cannot lose you like this.  Please, Maker, no.

With a surge of super human strength, Din lifts your limp body and cradles you close to his chest, protected and treasured, “Mesh’la, we need to get you dry.  I’m going to get you help.  You’re going to be okay.  You have to be okay.  Don’t leave me, please.” 

Then, he runs.

At the bottom of the Southside tower stairs, Din starts yelling for help as he runs towards where he last saw another soul, anyone.  It feels like the castle is an empty labyrinth tonight and despite the racket he’s making, help does not meet him quickly enough - Din doesn’t think, he just keeps going, muscle memory taking over as his feet bring him to your bedchamber doors where luckily, both Olivia and Serene have heard his call and rush to meet him.

“Please,” he begs, “she’s so cold.” He’s not in the right mind to explain further or do anything other than hold you as directed while your maids strip and try to dry you.  After laying you in bed, Din stumbles until his back hits the wall, paralyzed by the worst-case scenario fears running rampant through his mind. 

What if he were to never see your eyes sparkle again, either with mischief, in wonder, or full of lust?  Never hear the melody of your voice cooing sweet praise and encouragement to his son?  What if that cold, unfeeling utterance of your title was the last thing he ever said to you?  What if your final thoughts of him were that he didn’t love you, that he didn’t live and die by the very thought of you?

What if everything he had forced the both of you to suffer since returning had all been for naught, that even when trying to protect you he could only hurt you?

People attempt to get his attention - they suggest he leave to get some rest, give you some privacy, tell him there’s nothing more he can do for you right now, but Din hears none of it.  Doctors, nurses, Serene, Olivia, servants, his Lieutenant – he pays none of them any heed; all Din knows is there is only one voice that can send him away and that’s yours.  He might actually growl this at the doctor.

Din remains in your room, an ever-vigilant gargoyle looming fierce and protective, his eagle eyes scrutinize every move made near or to you, his approval necessary to proceed.  He is immovable, unapproachable, ferocious, inconsolable – a sentinel on guard with nothing to lose but the treasure over which he keeps watch.  The Mandalorian’s stubbornness yields small results but results nonetheless; after a few hours of being bundled up and all manner of heating pads and blankets being added to your bed, you look better, definitely drier.  Din’s helmet readings confirm those of the medical equipment: your body temperature is slowly, but steadily rising, your heartbeat is once again strong enough to be picked up by his sensors. 

But you don’t wake up.

The doctor says to be patient, the nurses say he doesn’t need to stay; the former is more difficult than Din anticipated, the later impossible.  He sits vigil by your side, barely blinking so he doesn’t miss any changes in your condition, frustration growing when nothing does.  By hour six after having found you, Din is ready to send for his son and ask Grogu to Force heal you.

Who needs sleep when he has worry and guilt?  Din knew you were up on that turret all by yourself, and he knows why you were there.  He knows he’s the reason you’re lying in this bed right now, fighting for your very life.  He should have gotten to you sooner.  He should have never let you wait up there alone.  What if Serene and Olivia hadn’t told him you were missing?  What if he hadn’t conducted his second scan and you had been locked out in the rain overnight?

What if… what if… what if…

Din drops his head, cradling his helmet in his hands, unable to stop the spiral of his thoughts and the turmoil of his heart.  Maker, please, please let her be okay.  I’ll do anything, give anything - she just has to be okay, please.

If you’re not awake by morning he’s going to call Grogu.

---

Slowly, you try to blink your eyes open, the bright lights of the room sharp and stinging – all you can manage is to squint; only able to turn your head in tiny increments, you haltingly scan your surroundings until coming upon the imposing, armoured figure waiting at the bedside.

“Din?” you barely recognize the scrape of your own voice.

“Mesh’la,” panic and relief flood through the Mandalorian’s modulator in equal measure, “You’re awake.  How are you feeling?  Does anything hurt?”

Adjusting your body in small measures, each ache and every soreness catching you by surprise, you manage to shimmy up slightly into a sitting position with Din’s help.  It takes you until now to realize you’re in your own bed; still disoriented you manage to croak out, “Everything hurts?  Din… what happened?”

“The door on the Southside tower… it was locked and you got trapped outside in the storm.  No one could find you… when Olivia told me you were missing, I… I tried to get there as fast as I could…” Din chokes on his words as he relives the fear of those moments.

Recollection flashes behind your eyes as you start to remember – the wedding dress viewing, giving back the Mythosaur pendant, fleeing to the tower, letting go, the numbing cold of the rain - you nod in comprehension, “You saved me.  Thank you, Din.”

“I do not deserve your thanks, cyare.  It is my fault you were up there, my fault you got hurt,” Din drops his head in shame, “I’m so sorry, mesh’la.  I was avoiding you and shouldn’t have… I knew you were up there and didn’t go to you… this is all my fault… you were out there in the cold for so long… who know what could have happened if…”

“But it didn’t happen.  You found me,” Din’s obvious guilt chips at your heart, “There’s no need for apologies, Din.  It’s not as if we made an agreement to both go to the tower – I was there of my own free will and you were under no obligation to come meet me.  None of this is your fault, really, General.  Feelings change.  I understand.”

Feelings changed??  No, you didn’t understand at all.

The absurdity of your words necessitate the only action Din deems to be appropriate, as bold and brutal as it is.

Clang!

Din’s helmet is ripped from his head and thrown to the ground so quickly you’re nearly unable to squeeze your eyes shut in time. “Din!” you gasp, shocked.

Grimacing as your muscles scream in protest, the effort to sweep your hands up to your eyes hurts more than you want to admit – but that pain is nothing compared to your fear of the harm it would do to see Din’s face uncovered.

Rough leather envelops your hands and gently pulls them away from your face, “Princess, it’s okay.” You shake your head as adamantly as you can, keeping your eyes closed.  Din’s gravely baritone remains gentle and reassuring, “Trust me, cyar’ika.  Open your eyes.”

Even with his explicit permission, you still feel hesitant; slowly, you open your eyes but keep your gaze lowered, focusing on the gentle way Din holds your hands - his thumbs rubbing gentle circles over the backs as he patiently waits for you to look up.  After a short while, you cautiously peer through your lashes, still nervous and uncertain until your eyes snap all the way open in recognition.  Disbelief and confusion overtake your face as your hands leaves the cradle of Din’s to touch the visage before you.

“I know you,” you whisper, blinking with wide-eyed astonishment, half expecting this image to disappear before you can comprehend its existence.  Din nods indulgently, his smile as gentle as his eyes, letting you take your time in putting all the pieces together. 

“Coruscant,” you say definitively, your memory sharpening as your heart leaps, “that wasn’t a dream?”  At the shake of Din’s head, you melt even further, “You were really there.  You took care of me.”

“Of course, mesh’la,” as his eyes crinkle, the browns of Din’s irises fleck with an enchanting hue of gold, “I wish to always take care of you.”

“But,” your thoughts struggle to form as you become distracted by how handsome the man is; your fingers run over the soft and hard lines of Din’s face, caress the curves of his smile, a cheeky finger pokes at his dimples, “why did you let me believe it was a dream?  Why didn’t you want me to know that we had met?”

As the Mandalorian sighs, his features soften and his eyes deepen with emotion – their expressiveness captivates you, “Princess, do you remember what I told you that night about why we couldn’t meet again?” Of course, you remember - you had memorized those romantic words and replayed them in your head countless times since that night; it’s only now you fully realize that poetic declaration of love wasn’t of your creation, but Din’s.  Heart blossoming, you nod and Din continues, “I admit what I said was dramatic, but the sentiment behind my words has always been true.  I am so incredibly weak for you, mesh’la.”

Your mouth opens to object, but Din anticipates you; he pulls your hands back into his, “I know you would say that I’m strong, cyare, but it’s simply not true when it comes to you.  Strong for you, yes, strong in your name, always, but when it comes to my heart, my soul?  They obey only you; I am, forever at your mercy.”

You may not agree, but a Mandalorian being vulnerable and exposing his soft underbelly is not something to scoff at; you squeeze Din’s fingers and continue to listen patiently as he closes his eyes in recollection.  You miss their warmth immediately.

“This past year without you has been excruciating, mesh’la.  It’s all I could do to scrape enough of myself together to be the father Grogu needs, but otherwise, I was barely living.  Food had no taste, drink was without spirit, and the absence of you was an ever-present weight on my chest that made it hard to even breathe at times,” Din nearly chokes, needing a minute before he can force himself to take in air properly. “I missed you every waking moment of every single day and retreated into my memories of you during each sleepless night; I was hollowed out, half of a man, tortured by the memory of true happiness and the knowledge I would never find it again,” Din finally opens his eyes and his look of sad resignation hurts your chest.

“The reason I didn’t want you to know I was really on Coruscant is the same reason I’ve tried not to be alone with you since coming back to Solana,” anguish overtakes Din’s voice, “To have even one true moment with you, anything remotely resembling what we used to share, would be like giving a sip of water to a man dying of thirst.  Once I had a taste, my weaknesses would prevail and then nothing could hold me back from quenching the thirst I’ve been living with as my constant companion.  I would not have the strength nor would I want it, to resist my heart’s deepest desires any longer.”  He looks apologetic.

“If we shared any real closeness, however briefly, I would have no choice but to throw all caution to the wind and beg for you to take me back, let me into your life again,” Din hangs his head in shame, “and that wouldn’t be fair to you, mesh’la.  I have no right.  No right to ask for connection or intimacy from you, to beg you to love me, when I have no more to offer you than I did when I left.  I have no right to risk all that you’ve worked for, to allow my own lack of restraint to spell ruin for your future and maybe even Solana’s.”

“In short, I am weak, so I ran,” a weight seems to have lifted off Din’s shoulders, “but I’m not running anymore, Princess.  I thought that hiding my feelings from you would save the both of us from a deeper wound, but now I know that was cowardice speaking - and our love deserves bravery.  Cyare, I may not be strong enough to thwart fate, but I will never abandon you again.  From now on, anything that needs to be faced, I want to face with you, together.  As long as you are willing to have me, I promise I will remain by your side and carry you through whatever may come.”

Din wishes he possessed more eloquence, but he is a mere bounty hunter appealing to real grace; he watches as you process his confession with thoughtfulness and sympathy before your angelic features relax into a familiar, affectionate look - one he’s dreamt of many times this past year, the beauty of which could only be surpassed by the words you say next:

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar, Din.”

Until this moment, Din Djarin did not know what true peace in one’s soul felt like.  “Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar, Princess,” he lets you pull him closer by the back of his neck until his uncovered forehead rests against yours for a helmetless Keldabe kiss.

“I thought you didn’t love me anymore,” you sniffle quietly, though your tone is one of tremendous relief.

“I could no sooner stop the rotation of a planet around its star, cyare.  I’m so sorry for letting you believe that, and even more so for having hurt you,” Din’s remorse crushes his heart, “I beg your forgiveness, my Princess, and will accept any such punishment you deem fit.”

Unable to look at you, the stoic hunter attempts to shrink; you truly believe there is a part of Din that wants you to discipline him for his transgression, and that all of him believes he deserves it – your Mandalorian has always been so hard on himself.  With a playful little grin, you duck down slightly so you can meet Din’s eye, “I won’t lie, General, there is no one in the known worlds who can shatter my heart and mend it so completely.  I’ll let the offense go unpunished this one time, but would warn you not to do anything of the sort again.” Chuckling, more generous than cheeky, you reassure your beleaguered warrior, “I am happy, Din.  There’s nothing to forgive.”

The way the tension melting from Din’s features transforms his face from world weary to that of a man ten years younger is nothing short of stunning; his voice, however, remains gruff, “It’s more than I deserve, mesh’la.  Though I admit I cannot think of any worse torture than seeing you in that wedding dress and knowing it wouldn’t be me receiving you at the end of the aisle.  That nearly killed me.”

Throwing your arms around Din’s neck, you bury your face in the scrunch of his neck cowl and burrow in deep and safe, comforted by your Mandalorian’s familiar scent and the sheer colossus of his being, “I hate that stupid dress.”

Din chuckles, rasping in your ear, “You looked beautiful.  An absolute dream, cyare.”

Snuggling in even further, you press yourself against the strength of Din’s Beskar, seeking sanctuary in the only place you’ve ever truly found peace; as you cocoon yourself in his arms, a question you can’t seem to reason out on your own continues to gnaw at you.  Looking up, you rest your chin on the heart of the General’s armour, “Din, there’s one thing I still don’t understand.  Even if I thought you merely a dream, why did you show me your face on Coruscant?  How was that allowed?  How can you show me your face right now?”

Not without some reluctance, Din lets you leave the safety his embrace and helps you sit back comfortably on the bed; still holding your hands in his, the General rests his forearms on his thighs and leans forward, serious, “I was raised to follow the Amidalor (The Way of the Mandalore) and since speaking the Creed, have lived by the tenet to never show my face to another living being.  You know that I broke this rule previously for Grogu and as a result, was deemed an apostate and stripped of my standing as a Mandalorian.  Though I broke the Creed of my own volition, and I have never and nor will I ever regret anything I do for my son, my resulting exile was one of the most difficult times of my life – rivalled perhaps, by this past year away from you.  It was only after I redeemed myself in the Living Waters of Mandalore that was I able to shed my shame and guilt, and truly regain my sense of self and identity.”

Your chest tightens, remembering; even when Din first told you the story, his sense of loss and anguish at being excommunicated by his covert came across so fresh and acute - seeing your big strong warrior still triggered by such a painful time in his life had nearly broken your heart.

“Having done it, violating the Creed again is not something I wish to consider in my lifetime.  I’m saying all this so you know I do not take lightly to the act of removing my helmet and revealing my face,” Din says gravely.  You nod along, but all this you already understood.

“In my covert, there has only ever been one known exception to the rule and that is for one’s riduur.  Even this is not widely accepted among all sects, but… I believe This is the Way and choose to live by it,” Din hard swallows; sometimes he still feels like that young foundling from Aq Vetina trying to find his footing among his new people, terrified of stepping out of line, “Among all the star systems in this galaxy, there will only ever be one being to whom I will pledge myself as a lifelong partner and who I would ever consider my spouse.  Though we never said the vows to one another, I belong to you, Princess, as one belongs to their riduur.  Only to you will I ever commit a lifetime’s devotion, only with you do I ever wish to be equal in partnership, and to you I am so bonded that I will never raise warriors with anyone else.  You see, cyare, in my heart, you are already my riduur and so my face, as with all of me, is yours.”

You’re crying now. 

Though these are not the Mandalorian marriage vows Din taught to you, the sentiments of his speech so closely mirror those words on commitment, partnership, and devotion, you can easily imagine them recited at an altar in front of loved ones.  If only you were not so overwhelmed with emotion right now; you wish you could find the words to properly express the magnitude of your own feelings and pledge your everlasting fidelity and love to the only man in the universe you will always give your everything.

Din sees you needlessly struggling; he doesn’t need any verbal confirmation to know you are of one mind – the pureness of your heart is written all over your pretty face; he tries to lighten the mood, joking, “I hope you understand now, mesh’la, why I took great offense to what you said earlier - when it comes to my riduur, feelings do not, in fact, change.”

You cry even harder.

Pulling you back into his arms, Din hums soothing noises into your hair and rubs gentle circles on your back as your tears cascade down the slope of his Beskar like a glittering waterfall, soaking into his flight suit.  Only after your breathing evens and your body relaxes into his hold does the General let you pull away, “What happens now, Din?”

“Now, you rest and recover, cyar'ika.  And after,” he pauses to kiss the back of your hands, a devoted knight swearing his allegiance, “we take it day by day, together.  There is no being or force in this galaxy that can tear me away from you ever again; I will not, cannot, leave your side save by your say so, Princess.”

How you’ve missed this – the way the steady confidence of this man and the surety of his words always give you strength.  With him, you’re allowed space to be unsure, vulnerable, even lost, able to rely on him to lead you to the right path with his unwavering support.  Never are you more certain of who you are and what you’re capable of than when you’re with Din.

“I cannot marry him, Din.”

“No, you cannot,” his tone has the same finality, the same conviction as yours – the way one might repeat a fact as simple and true as the gravitation bond between planet and moon.  Finally making this declaration out loud feels like setting your heart free from a cage; the knowledge that Din is behind you, ready to catch you, sends your spirit soaring high and into his space so that you can crash your lips to his.

This kiss, the first you’ve shared in over a year feels like coming home; it’s bathed in the relief of belonging, steeped in the comfort of knowing and being known, powerful in its own quiet calm.  Euphoria washes over your entire being like an ocean, drowning you in its embrace.

Your lips move together in a well practiced choreographed dance, the two of you falling in sync easily after all this time - but there is nothing routine or neat about the way Din’s mouth devours yours.  He presses into you, passion-filled, unruly, barely restrained; everything is too much and not enough, vividly felt, yet hazy and dreamy – all the most wonderful of contradictions.  The General’s tongue is punishing while worshipful, each stolen breath is urgent but never-ending, this kiss feels like forever and yet could never be long enough. 

You chase the end of such a kiss with a series of soft pecks, unwilling to sever the connection of your lips, except to whisper sweet affirmations to one another.

I’ve missed you.

I love you so much.

Never letting you go ever again.

Sense and practicality return too soon to your Mandalorian.  “Cyare, I know I just promised never to leave you,” Din starts, chuckling at your anticipated whine of protest, “but you must allow me to fetch the doctor.  And either Serene or Olivia to tend to you.  Likely both as they are equally worried about you.”

“And you’ll come back?”  You know he will, but there is such a comfort in the reassurance that only Din can provide.

He knows this; he knows you, “I will always come back, Princess.”

Satisfied, you let Din press one more promise to your lips before you watch him put his helmet back on and slip out the door.

---

In the hallway, Din waits for your door to fully close behind him before releasing a ragged sigh of relief, letting loose the very thread that seems to have been stitched throughout his body, holding him together this entire time; tipping his head back, Din finally lets himself properly breathe, every inhale and exhale slow and deep.

It will take more than just this moment for Din to fully embrace his new lease on life, now that the tension that’s been pulling him taut and sharp for the past year has finally dissipated - but he is content.  Smiling to himself, happy, hopeful, Din is pushing off the door in the direction of your maids’ quarters when he’s stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice,

“General.”

Din turns to see the king emerge from the shadows of a nearby alcove.

“Is there something I should know about you and my daughter?”

---

Din follows His Majesty into the closest study in silence, already kneeling in fealty by the time the older man turns around to face the Mandalorian.

“Tell me, General.  How long have you been in love with the Princess?”

Din does not miss the hint of accusation in the King’s tone – he resigns that the truth will serve everyone best, “Since the moment I met her, Your Majesty, and more so every day since.”  He knows this is not what your father is really asking, “I had already known the Princess for several weeks when you bestowed upon me the rank of General.”

Astonishment colours your father’s expression as Din continues, “Please forgive me, sire.  There was no conspiracy on either of our parts to deceive anyone, especially you, or proport ourselves inappropriately.  When I first met the Princess, I was unaware of her rank and drawn to her kindness and good nature alone.  It took very little time for me to fall beneath the spell of her wit and charm, and to be enraptured by the purity of her heart.  By the time I learned of her royal identity, I was already head over heels for the woman who held the title.”

The king sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, needing some time to process this information, “And the entire time…?”

“Nearly, Your Majesty,” Din still cannot meet the gaze of this man who he respects and venerates so much, “After I accepted the New Republic assignment, the Princess and I attempted to put a stop to our feelings, agreeing to remain within the boundaries of our stations - to be royalty and devoted knight only.  But the enormity of our respect and admiration for one another could not ultimately be contained, and after months of slowly failing restraint, we gave in to our affections for one another.”

Shaking his head, your father asks, confused, “But why would you choose to hide your relationship?  Why would you keep it from your king?”

“Because,” Din’s head snaps up in surprise, he would have thought the multitude of reasons were obvious, “… she is the Princess.  The hierarchy of court and kingdom is rigid – our love would never be accepted; its very existence could tarnish the Princess’ reputation and diminish the majesty of your royal house.  And even if by some miracle it did not, I still cannot be the future you envisioned for your daughter.”

The Mandalorian bows his head again, missing the way your father’s mouth curls with amusement, “The Princess is, by her own admission, someone with great political and diplomatic worth; membership into your great house is coveted by many in the galaxy.  Your Majesty, you must have had some expectations as to the type of person who would be deserving of marrying her?  Certainly, someone of importance, with their own respectable standing in the kingdom if not the galaxy.  Perhaps even a title or belonging to an esteemed and celebrated lineage? At the very least, you must wish her marriage to bring political or security advantage to Solana.  The Princess expects no less of herself.”

“And that, General, is how you see my daughter?  What you deem her worth?”

“No, sire.  As much as I respect her rank, the Princess’ title has no place in the esteem I hold for her,” Din’s modulated voice fills with emotion, his admiration evident to your father, “To me, she is… ethereal.  Truly one of the humblest, genuinely compassionate beings I’ve ever met – that she wields the power of her position with such grace and thoughtfulness is Solana’s great fortune and its true source of strength.  Your daughter is smart and funny, and despite her immense privilege she does not shelter herself – she exhibits such genuine zest for life and affection for people of all walks.  Her spirit is strong and full of grace, but she can be feisty and stubborn – there is never a dull moment with her.  Beyond everything, the Princess is open with her mind and generous with her heart - I cannot say there is another like her in all the worlds.”

It feels incredible to be so effusive about your amazing qualities.  Due to the secret nature of your relationship, Din has never espoused his never-ending admiration for you out loud to anyone except for Grogu; to be able to do so to your father, a man to whom Din credits many of your merits, feels like a gift, “If it were up to me, Your Majesty, the Princess would only know love and reverence for her character and not her status - she should have a partner who worships the very ground she walks on.  But duty comes first, and that is not something either of us would have her hide from.  Your daughter’s marriage should strengthen your great house and raise the glory of Solana, keeping her safe and prosperous.  And I cannot offer any of that.  I am no one.”

“Are you sure, General?” The king straightens his posture, standing regal and self assured, “That you are no one?”

Your father gestures for the Mandalorian to rise and holds unwavering eye contact with the dark T-visor as his most revered commander gets up, “How can you say you are no one, General?  Are you not the leader of my armies?  Do Solana’s military forces not look to you as their shining example of exemplary combat skill and strategic intellect?  They trust you to lead and support them in training, demonstrate for them conduct befitting the deepest, truest sense of honour, duty and valour.  And why would they not?  You treat your brothers in arms like equals and protect their families like your own despite having no ancestral ties to this land or personal reasons to pledge allegiance to their sovereign.  Are you not a hero of the Battle of Planoor, where you led our troops to victory over Imperial insurgents?  Did you not repel the scourge of the galaxy and their attacks on Solanian freedom at great personal risk to yourself?  If I’m not mistaken, you bear a permanent souvenir of that day on your body that would have dealt a lesser man a much more tragic fate.” 

The gentle warmth of your father’s eyes and the pride that shines from their depths is undeniable, “General, even if I had not decorated you for these accomplishments myself, I would still hold you in my esteem as one of the finest men in the galaxy.  You came to our planet a stranger and took every citizen of Solana under your protection; I’ve personally witness you defend and care for my subjects as if they were of your own Creed.  Never does the core of one's character ring clearer to me than in the way they show up for the innocent and defenseless; you, General, stand for what’s right and fair, always with compassion, and ever respectful of the dignity we owe to all living beings.  Decency, General, is your greatest strength.”

“Tell me this, General,” the king’s tone grows indulgent and paternal, “What type of man gives so selflessly to those from whom he would never consider asking for repayment? The same that exhibits bravery and perseverance in the face of insurmountable odds, I would think. A man who fights through his own struggles to approach even the most daunting of challenges head on in the name of justice and truth.  What chance does evil and tyranny have against this type of man who willingly puts his life on the line and never backs down from a righteous fight? Who leads by tireless example and inspires an entire nation to do the same?  General, I can not fathom how a man such as you are could view himself as no one or think himself unable to offer Solana prosperity and safety.”

Though, to most, he is generally considered a man of few words, Din has never found himself to be truly speechless until now.  He was raised to be honourable for the sake of honour, brave for bravery’s sake, and that even if a Mandalorian had nothing, he would always have his integrity; praise for living The Way is something that will always catch Din off guard.  While he’s still absorbing the generosity of your father’s words, the older man flabbergasts him yet again, “General, did you truly think I requested your return to Solana in order to review security plans?”

Behind his visor, Din’s eyes grow to the size of saucers, his attempts to speak fall flat; the modulator of his helmet picking up only awkward stuttering as the Mandalorian opens and closes his mouth repeatedly.

“I admit it took me longer than it should to make the connection between your leaving and my daughter’s change in demeanor.  She is, as you say, strong and spirited; and while she hid her sadness well, I know my own daughter and it was clear to me that something within her had broken,” the king speaks freely, the anguish of being unable to comfort his own child still an open wound, “I did suspect her upcoming marriage was the source of her dread, and privately, considered cancelling the betrothal entirely if she should wish it.  It baffled me that she was trying to hide her obvious unhappiness with the arrangement, and the more she insisted she was fine, the less I believed her.” 

Scratching his head, your father mentally retraces his own steps, “Any which way I thought about it, my daughter’s misery could be traced back to the date of her engagement, so I saw no reason for her to continue denying it… that is, until I realized it was also the same day you abruptly left Solana.  Up until that moment, I did not suspect there was anything more to your attachment than respect and a general fondness, but once I started to seriously consider your departure as the trigger for the Princess’ melancholy, I had to rethink everything I thought I knew.  Was it possible that your leaving and my daughter’s betrothal were not as unrelated as you had made it seen?”

Din is nodding along now, but the proper response to your father’s story still eludes him.  “I needed to know for certain.  I could not let my daughter sink deeper into a sorrow that she would not even admit to, so I sent you the invitation.  Forgive me for my duplicity, General – I knew that as a loyal son of Solana you would heed my call, even if it caused you what I was beginning to realize would be great pain,” his Majesty does look slightly sheepish, “You arrived and almost immediately proved my theories correct – perhaps you thought you were being subtle, but the effect you and the Princess had on one another in the East Wing parlour was tangible, electric – it charged the very air of the room.  There could be no doubt about it, there was something powerful between the two of you, I just didn’t know the extent and depth of that connection, of that love – or rather, I didn’t know until I overheard the two of you just now when the Princess work up.”  Upon finishing, your father looks satisfied, relieved.

“I love her, Your Majesty.”  It’s the truth.  And the only thing Din thinks is worthy of saying right now.

“I know.”  The king’s tone is full of fondness for his General, “And I cannot think of anyone better to whom I could entrust my daughter’s heart than the protector of the realm she loves so much.  But neither of us can nor should we speak for the Princess.  Come, let us hear what she has to say on the matter.”

---

Din paces the hall outside of your room for what feels like hours.  He’s been out here alone since your father left him at the door, except for the doctor who came and left, and the few appearances by Serene and Olivia as they rushed about their duties.

The General is still in a state of shock over what’s transpired since he found you on the Southside turret; from the complete dismantling of all his emotional walls, to your forgiveness and the reconfirmation of your love, then unbelievably, your father’s revelations – every development has felt overwhelmingly surreal.  Never in all of Din’s wildest dreams did he imagine that he would find himself in this position – and on top of everything, something even more unexpected and precarious has started to roost in his chest, a stealthy assassin that shadows his every thought: hope.

The door to your room opens to your father exiting while bidding you a swift recovery and a good night; though Din cannot hear the man’s exact words, he can tell they are full of paternal affection.  When the king turns, he makes for Din directly; expression poignant, eyes misty and full of wisdom, he clasps a hand to the Mandalorian’s shoulder pauldron, “She’s waiting for you, son.”

There’s no time to linger on the significance of the endearment, nor the litany of emotions that surge through the Mandalorian upon hearing it, because from inside the room you call to him, voice full of song, “Din!”

He leaves your father to saunter down the hall with a renewed lightness in his steps, and rushes to your bedside, kneeling once more before the ruler of his grateful heart.  You receive the collapsing frame of the strongest man you know in your open arms and tuck yourself into his covered neck, ecstatically crying.  Cupping your face, Din brushes his leathered thumbs over your wet cheeks, “Mesh’la;” he waits for you to speak more, afraid still of his own hope.

“Din!  I am to be engaged no longer,” the joy in your eyes sparkles like the most brilliant of constellations, your cheeks are flushed as if you had pinched them in disbelief, and your rosy lips quiver in hopeful excitement.  Din thinks this might be the most beautiful you’ve ever looked.  A celestial glow radiates from your very being, “Father says he will meet with our bannermen tonight and cancel the betrothal.  He will explain I’m not yet ready to be a wife and that the anxiety has been affecting my health.  They are old family friends of court, so he believes they will be understanding, but he is fully prepared to offer and provide all necessary rewards and compensation for any trouble or distressed sustained.  Father has tried to reassure me all will be okay, but I admit to some feelings of guilt.”

Din strokes your hair lovingly, forever amazed by the extent of your compassion and empathy, “I trust His Majesty, cyare.  I am sure all will be well, as he promised.  But if you do wish to speak to your former fiancé and his family directly, I will be right there with you for support.”

Hugging him tightly before pulling back to gaze into the welcoming abyss of Din’s visor, your fingers gently caress his helmet as you would the lines of his handsome face, “Will you stay now, Din?  On Solana?  With me?”

The silver dome tilts forward and its vocoder cannot mask the sincerity and conviction of Din’s pledge, “My place is and will forever be, by your side, Princess.  My weapons are yours to command, my heart is yours to hold; I fight in your name, I love in your name and the honour of doing both will forever be a part of my own personal Creed.”

Your poetic warrior.  There are no words that can properly express the immense joy and gratitude you feel for being so well loved, not only by the great man before you, but the other great man in your life, the king.  How lucky are you?  To have such a benevolent, compassionate man as your father, your mentor, and to be the chosen partner of a man who equals him in courage, decency, and selflessness?  It’s all you can do to keep from bursting into tears again.

And just when you think that this is the happiest a person could ever feel, Din, still down on one knee, holds out his Mythosaur pendant in offering and says in a voice so hushed it could almost be mistaken for his natural, unmodulated baritone,

“Princess.  Cyar’ika.  Though it is only very recently you find yourself engaged no longer, would you bestow upon me the honour of being engaged once more?”

It’s a dream, this must be a dream, you think, as you whisper back, “Yes.”

Unable to hold back the flood of happy tears any longer, you let them fall freely and press your forehead to your future riduur’s helm, sealing in your forever with a Keldabe kiss.

1 year later

On any other planet (save Mandalore, and possibly Nevarro), a Beskar covered warrior strolling casually through an outdoor market might look out of place, but not on Solana.  As Din walks down the main fairway, a head taller than every one else, he does garner a fair bit of attention, but it’s of the most welcomed variety.

“Good to see you, General!”

“Solana is glad to have its General home!”

He waves to every well wisher, shakes a few hands, and accepts offers of food and other wares from the local vendors; he has to struggle with a few to convince them to accept payment, but at the end of the day, it’s a rare being who can say no to a Mandalorian.  On a few occasions, Din has to excuse himself hastily, cutting the small talk short on account of needing to keep an eye on Grogu who wanders the market ahead of his father, also happily accepting gifts - mainly of the food sort.

Father and son are heading in the direction of the National Library to surprise you with an early return from their latest mission for the New Republic.  Halfway to their destination, Din spots a familiar figure leaning over a vendor table, examining its goods – slightly bemused and genuinely curious, Din saunters over and looms behind his unsuspecting target for several seconds before uttering, low and dangerous,

“Mayfeld.”

The bald-headed man spins around, wide-eyed and stunned, “Mando!”  Out of habit, he raises his hands in the air to show that he’s unarmed, innocent, “What are you doing here?”

“The General lives here,” the vendor interjects in a tone the suggests the answer should be obvious, “Welcome home, General.”  Din and the vendor exchange polite nods before the latter goes to help another customer.  Meanwhile, Mayfeld purses his lips into a smile, amused by this newly acquired information, “General, eh?  Listen, Mando – I’m not here for any trouble!  I’ve been living the straight and narrow life since…” he shrugs and turns his palms upward to make a gesture that Din assumes is meant to indicate Mayfeld’s prison break, faked death, or both.  “I’m just trying to find a place to settle down, have a nice, quiet life.  And Solana’s known to be friendly to those looking to make a fresh start!  I swear I didn’t know that… whoa, whoa… wait a minute!” Mayfeld’s expression turns panicked as he spots the Royal Guard change the direction of their march and make a beeline to where he’s standing with Din.

“Relax, Mayfeld,” chuckles Din, “they’re here for me, not you.”

The synchronized footsteps of Solana’s finest come to a halt a few feet from their fearless leader, standing in the position of attention, they salute in unison, “General!  Welcome back, General!”

Din returns their salute with an invitation to be at ease, then warmly greets the Lieutenant who steps forward with a clasp of forearms, “Lieutenant, right on schedule.  I’m happy to inform you that I can grant you and your men early dismissal from your duties today.”

The uniformed man tuts jovially and nods in understanding, “The offer is appreciated, General.  If it’s all the same to you, the Guard will accompany you to the library, and from there, you can relieve us of our charge.”

Din gives his second-in-command a hearty clap on the shoulder to indicate his appreciation and agreement with this plan; at their commander’s approval, the troops resume their previous course, with Din also preparing to move once he confirms that Grogu is still wandering ahead in that same direction.

Mayfeld has yet to recover from the wonder of this exchange when Din addresses him again, “Let’s go, Mayfeld.  If you’re serious about settling down on Solana, it’s best you come with me.”  Even if the man thought that the Mandalorian bore him ill will (which Migs’ gut tells him he does not), he would be a fool to refuse after having just witnessed Din’s command over the planet’s security forces.

A few minutes of walking in silence is all Mayfeld can manage, “So, Mando… these guys work for you?”

“We all serve the King of Solana.”

“Right, right.  But, like, you’re their leader?”

“I’m their commanding officer, yes.”

“Did you have to… I dunno, fight and defeat the previous General for the position or something?”

“No.”

“Hey, is that your little green guy up ahead?”

“Yes, that’s Grogu.”

“Okay, okay!  He’s bigger than the last time I saw him… you remember?  We were on that… you know what?  Never mind where that was, he’s definitely bigger!  He’s a growing… boy?”

“Yes, boy.”

“And you know, Mando… just in case, you were worried, I want you to know, I kept my promise… I’ve never told anyone I saw your face or what you look like… as far as I’m concerned, that never happened.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“Right, right… and you still don’t do that, right?  Show anybody anything?? I don’t mean any disrespect to the Creed!  It just seems like a lot of things have changed since the last time we… hung out?  Took out some Imps? You know what I’m getting at, Mando?”

And so on and so forth, the primarily one-sided nervous chattering is non-stop for the entire walk.  Din can’t pretend he isn’t amused, but his Beskar covers it well.  He keeps his answers short and clipped, mainly to mess with Migs, but also so he can keep his attention on the library building as it comes into view.

The General knows you’re coming out before he even sees you because he hears an adorable squeak emanating from his son, followed by Grogu turning into a little green blur scurrying at an impressive speed up the library’s front steps.

“Little love!” Your voice rings out sweet and melodious as you exit the front doors, quickening your own steps forward to meet the small green fur ball that force jumps into your arms.  You cuddle him close and flutter kisses all over his happy face, “You’re home early!”

“Are you okay?  Did you get hurt?” You fuss lovingly over your son, letting him coo back his reassurances, then tickle him adoringly - the two of you purring and giggling in reunion, oblivious to all those around you.  Nuzzling your nose into the top of Gorgu’s soft head to smell his sweet scent, you ask the single most important of questions, “Are you hungry?” followed by, “Where is your father?”

As an answer to the latter, Grogu points to where Din is standing, and to the former, he drops from your arms and waddles over to a captain of the Royal Guard who had somehow been relegated to holding all your son’s collected market snacks.

You pick up your skirts and run straight for the General, flying into his arms with a force that would have knocked a lesser man onto his back.  But he isn’t a lesser man, he's your man.  A Mandalorian.  Your smile is so wide and bright, Din thinks for a moment his helmet HUD has been blinded – but perhaps it’s simply that his own eyes have crinkling closed from smiling so hard himself. 

To be back in Din’s arms after nearly three weeks apart, your longest separation since his official return to Solana, feels like a homecoming; all the tension and worry floats from you body as he lifts you off your feet and you melt into the brilliance and safety of his armoured embrace.

To be in Din’s arms at all, out here in the open, is something you will never take for granted.

Even after your previous engagement was dissolved, you and Din agreed to continue keeping your relationship a secret from your subjects.  Your main concern had been the feelings of your former fiancé and his family.  Though the long-time friends and trusted members of court had accepted your father’s decision to end the betrothal with grace and understanding, flaunting your and Din’s love so soon after would have been beyond inconsiderate, cruel even.  The idea that people who have been nothing but kind and loyal to the crown might suffer embarrassment due to whisperings and gossip was more than you could stomach.  Privately, you also worried that the public might mistakenly blame Din or think him capable of something dishonourable.

Your father had supported discretion – in his experience, the general population preferred to be spared the messy details of palace life, and very rarely reacted well to multiple announcements of change; it would be best to wait and let Solanians come around to the cancellation of the royal wedding in their own time, before springing anything new on them.   

Behind the closed doors of the castle, however, there was no need for any such prudence.  You were free to openly hold Din’s hand, express you admiration and appreciation for the man, praise him, tease him in front of others, shower him with affection.  Even this liberation was more than you had ever dared to dream for your love; to this day, you continue to cherish every open touch, every uninterrupted embrace, every endearment spoken in front of others.  Your attraction and desire for one another you still kept private, sacred for just the two of you, but now there was no more need for pretense, no more false goodbyes at the dinner table, no more sneaking into your bedchambers via the balcony.

Finally, your love could just breathe; it could blossom in the light, instead of shrinking into the safety of the shadows.  You and Din could touch, comfort, even look at one another without being mindful of who was around, how much time had past, that it might be the last time.  For all of the privilege and fortune of your title, there is nothing you will ever prize more than an unhurried morning spent with the love of your life, restful and worry free.

In public, everything remained above board; you kept things subtle and formal, Din remained close and protective - the most devoted knight to his Princess.  You really ought to have given the people of Solana more credit. 

That Din’s return to the realm and the dissolution of your betrothal occurred in short order was neither here nor there, barely registering to your subjects as mere coincidence.  What they did notice was that their Princess appeared happier, lighter, no longer beleaguered by the unknown sadness that had plagued you for the past year.  You once again exuded the joie de vivre that they had so missed, exemplifying the passion and optimism that many consider the foundation of Solanian culture; they were getting their Princess back.

The General, long admired for his strategic brilliance, combat skills and strong leadership, Solanians welcomed back on his own merits.  But it wasn’t long before his public appearances with you drew eyes to him in a way they had not previously.  His protective positioning over you was one of a supportive shield, always gentle, never aggressive or oppressive – he hovered at the ready without ever interfering with your authority; you were free and safe to be your authentic self, a bright star around which his calm, steady presence naturally orbited.

His intuition always place him right where you needed him to be, anticipatory and respectful.  He doted over you.  Quietly spoiled you.  He cared for you a great deal - that much was obvious to those with eyes to see.  Over time, Capital inhabitants who would describe themselves ranging from inquisitive to flat-out nosy, noticed that the General would often reach for you before catching himself, that the unseen eyes behind the black T-visor lingered on you longer than necessary, that the press of his guiding hand on your back was more affectionate than instructive.  After several months of observed ‘evidence’, confident in their powers of deduction, Solanians collectively concluded that the General was indeed in love with their Princess; and rather endearingly, united in their hope that the Princess may one day return his affections.

To the absolute delight of the now invested realm, it appeared that you were slowly opening your heart to the hardened warrior.  His quiet words made you laugh out loud and his thoughtful attention drew from you the most breathtaking of smiles.  His soft touches were allowed to linger longer and then longer, and eventually, you began returning them with you own.  You faced each other, walked side by side – no longer royalty followed by a knight in her service, but equals, trusted confidants.  The day you took Din’s arm while strolling through the capital’s market place, the glassware vendors won a handsome wager from the weaving merchants.  As the encouraging smiles and approving glances from the public grew bolder and more apparent, so did your public displays of familiarity and affection, until hand holding, long embraces, and forehead to helmet touches while amongst your people were all common place. 

You could not have been more grateful for their support, but to your subjects, loving their sovereign as well as she had always loved them, was an honour.  For Solanians, the sight of their Princess happy and safe in the arms of their General was cause for celebration – and so, without any formal announcement, your attachment was a secret no longer. 

You murmur into where the fabric of Din’s cape meets his cowl the same questions you asked his son, “Are you okay?  Did you get hurt?” Fingers digging and groping all the soft spots between the Beskar, you nuzzle in deep, ready to hibernate in Din’s warmth after so many long days apart.  Din squeezes you back tightly, “I’m perfect now that I’m back with you, mesh’la.  No injuries this time.”

His modulated husk sends shivers down your spine and you wiggle in the Mandalorian’s strong grip with a little bit of cheek, “I’ll feel better when I check you over myself later.”

“Me too,” Din’s voice is liquid velvet, his words a promise.

The two of you share a private chuckle before he presses the helm of his silver dome to your forehead and holds the kiss for a quiet moment.  Only when Din unhands you do you notice the stranger next to him eyeing the two of you with what can only be described as incredulous shock.  To your surprise, Din acknowledges him directly, “Mayfeld, let me introduce to you the Princess of Solana -”

Mayfield bows, somehow both in awe and disbelieving that his old acquaintance can make such a fortuitous introduction, “Your Highness, it’s an honour-”

“- my wife,” Din finishes, grin evident to anyone within earshot.

Tossing all attempts at decorum aside, Mayfeld’s head snaps up to stare confoundedly at the Beskar-clad man, practically screeching, “Your wife?!?”

You can’t help but look over at Din in amazement as well, unable to conceal the thrill and pride that runs through you at having being claimed out loud and proud.

You and Din had quietly married six months ago in a small ceremony attended by only a handful of your closest friends and family; then honeymooned for ten blissful days on Nevarro, just the two of you.  Trading in your titles and rank for domesticity and the simple life of Din’s cabin on the lava flats, you don’t think you’ve ever felt quite as carefree or relaxed in all your life as you did as a newlywed in the Outer Rim.  Your days were spent leisurely: meeting Din’s old friends, breaking bread with Magistrate Karga, giggling with the Anzellans who called you “Pretty Lady” (“Good job, Big Guy!”), long and lazy blurrg rides over the planet’s rocky flats and hills, perusing for souvenirs in the Nevarro City market, coming home to the isolated quiet of your cozy abode.  Your nights were equally as varied, with Din taking you at all hours in every manner, on each and every surface of his house.  There was much to be said for the freedom to be as loud as you wanted, as wanton in your cries of ecstasy as you needed, as prolific and unrestrained in your lust for your riduur as you desired.  Helmet on, helmet off, it didn’t matter – the man you rode for hours, naked and dripping wet in the planet’s volcanic hot springs was yours and you didn’t care who heard.    

Upon return from your little slice of heaven, there didn’t appear any obvious reason to announce your marriage.  If their past behaviour was to be any indication, your subjects would likely figure it out in time – there was no rush, if you were happy, they were happy; as far as Solanians were concerned, their Princess had already selected the future King consort and they wholeheartedly approved.

Accordingly, the opportunities to be announced as Din’s wife have been few and far between; you study this Mayfeld with tremendous curiosity - who is this man to Din that he would so openly and happily share such an intimate detail about your lives?

“Yes,” you nod happily, “I am his riduur.”

The man resumes his awkwardly low bow, “Congratulations, Your Highness!  Uh, and well done, Mando… I mean, General.”

Din’s large hand rubs your lower back lovingly as you bend over to pick up Grogu, who after satiating his craving for Solanian delicacies, has come seeking your attention; as you straighten, Din pats a still stunned Mayfeld on the back and answers your unspoken question, “Mayfeld helped me obtain some critical Imperial intel at great risk to himself.  Without him, we would not have so quickly rescued Grogu from Moff Gideon.”

“Oh!” Your eyes widen in understanding, “Thank you, Mr. Mayfeld!  Thank you for helping rescue my son!”  Familiar with most parts of the tale, you’re incredibly interested to learn more about this man and his role in Din and Grogu’s life before you, but more than that, you’re truly grateful, “Please join us at the castle for dinner tonight! Have you yet to find lodging? If not, you shall be our honoured guest until you do. And if you should ever decide to extend your stay on Solana, I will personally do what I can to help you settle in as comfortably as possible.”

You slide your arm through Mayfeld’s as he thanks you and tells you to call him Migs.  Then Mayfeld, you, and Grogu in your arms, form a chain and start heading towards the castle, the Royal Guard walking alongside in perfect formation.  Din admires the sway of your hips and the graceful glide of your movements for a few minutes before shifting his soulful gaze to his son chirping happily in your arms, safe, full, loved.

Following from behind, Din is catching up on military reports and capital news with his Lieutenant when he’s distracted by the sight of you throwing your head back in laughter, genuinely amused by something Mayfeld has just told you – likely an anecdote that the Mandalorian might prefer to stay buried alongside Mayfeld’s prison record.  Both you and Mayfeld turn at the same time to look at Din; you with a cheeky grin and a cute little shrug before you turn back around, Mayfeld looking absolutely gobsmacked while dramatically mouthing, “YOUR WIFE?!?!?!” then returning his attention to you.

Din maintains his pace, keeping an adoring and protective eye on you and his son, his family, from a comfortable distance; grinning broadly beneath the helmet, he murmurs to no one in particular, proud and content, “My wife.”

🎶All Night by Beyoncé🎶:

Found the truth beneath your lies And true love never has to hide (True love never has to hide) I'll trade your broken wings for mine (Trade your broken wings for mine) I've seen your scars and kissed your crime (Seen your scars and kissed your crime)

All night long Love, all night long Sweet love, all night long Sweet love, all night long All I wanna, ain't no other We together, I remember Sweet love, all night long

They say true love's the greatest weapon To win the war caused by pain (pain) But every diamond has imperfections But my love's too pure to watch it chip away (chip a-, chip a-, chip away) Boy, nothing real can be threatened True love breathes salvation back into me With every tear came redemption And my torturer became my remedy

All night long Love, all night long Sweet love, all night long Sweet love, all night long All I wanna, ain't no other We together, I remember Sweet love, all night long

How I missed you, my love

A few tags for those who have commented or reblogged that I tortured them with the angst - I am sorry again and thank you for supporting me and this series! @okiegal68 @bishtrouille @johnssherlock221 @baronessvonglitter @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

“He’s set to be an independent operative, but know he is working for and with us.” The colonel’s words then officially etch the truth in stone.

Mando comes around basecamp like a ghost. Barely staying put for you to register his presence, yet the whispers about him grow.

“I heard he took out a whole imperial squadron and a Moff too.” Dyana, your closest friend, tells you enthusiastic to catch up on all the rumors.

Then Ward calls for you, and you miss out on any other gossip Dyana and the others had.

“I’ll be heading to Coruscant this week to meet with a few higher ups and senators… I need you to do all the debriefs with Mando while I’m away.

It’s like a rancor suddenly barreled into you.

“Wait, me?” You stupidly question confused, and Ward shoots you a look, raised eyebrows and all.

“Do you think you’re not capable of handling this, ranger?”

“No, colonel.” You quickly reply, and she nods.

“Good, that’s what I thought.”

When you see her off, it must be obvious how hesitant you still are. Her sturdy hand gives your shoulder a reassuring pat.

“Don’t worry. He’s not as scary as everyone thinks he is.” Ward reassures, but it doesn’t soothe you much.

Especially when the day arrives and you find yourself waiting for him.

Just like before, the mandalorian saunters in and your focus is immediately drawn to him. But then, it gets knocked out of orbit when you find he’s not alone.

A tiny green creature waddles in beside him, childishly blinking at every sight. Why is a child with the mandalorian?

“Where’s Ward?” A rich striking voice startles you. Of course the terrifying warrior would sound this intimidating.

“Went to Coruscant for a meeting.” You reply partly stunned you’re actually talking to him.

“And you are?” But then mandalorian questions, sharp and distrustful, and it pisses you off. He’s the newcomer here, and he decides to question you?

“I’m the person you’re stuck with for your debrief and mission logs unfortunately.” Your voice whips out sharp.

He doesn’t say anything.

“What about Teva?” He counters again, and you want to scream. What’s this guy’s problem?

“Out on a mission,” your reply is sharper, bladed with annoyance.

“If you want you can personally contact Ward and explain why I’m not satisfactory enough for your debrief. I’m sure she’d love that.” Then the defiant reply escapes you faster than you can stop it.

It’s as if the whole cantina mess hall heard you because it becomes deathly silent.

The mandalorian simply stares you down with his unflinching helmet. Then the warrior turns and strides out not saying another word.

“I think you pissed him off.” Wolf snickers breaking the stillness.

A sense of dread looms as you realize you might’ve truly just gotten yourself into a mountain load of trouble.

Ward calls that night, and you knew it was coming.

“Why do you want to start a fight with the mandalorian?” She asks calmly over the comms.

“I’m not! He started it!” You can’t help but childishly counter. You even further explain how demanding and untrusting he was.

The colonel sighs.

“You have to understand… His people don’t trust easily. And for good reason. Try to be the one to play nice here.”

You want to be petty and say he needs to as well, but you can’t argue with Ward.

“Do the whole debrief drunk.” Zeb jokes about it with you the next day, and you scoff.

But by the time sunset arrives you start getting tempted to get a drink because maybe Mando isn’t showing up.

Until he does. And again he’s not alone. The strange but sweet little creature continues waddling alongside Mando.

It’s awkward as hell when he approaches your table. The tension lingers thick from yesterday prickling across your skin in the worst way.

You don’t even know if you should say anything

“Mweh?” A surprisingly soft little noise floats through the tension and you turn towards it. You blink down to find the mysterious little being staring up at you with sweet wide eyes.

With curious claws, the baby reaches for the loth cat charm dangling off your belt, the one of many trinkets your niece has given you.

Melted by the sight, you grin and scoot closer. Then you unclasp the charm for the baby to examine it more.

“You like it? It’s cute right?”

The little one agrees with a chirp sounding so endearing.

Something softly clicks. If a creature so tiny and innocent as this baby confidently travels with the mandalorian, then he couldn't be that much of an ass.

Someone sighs. Then settling back into your seat, you find the mandalorian seated across from you. The baby hops up to sit beside him. Yet his eager eyes remain happily taken with your charm.

“That imp base on Hoth had no leads.” He speaks first.

You’re stunned.

Your gut urges you to not make a big deal about this, to simply now see him as another coworker.

So you nod and casually plug in the info on your datapad.

“Hoth was a long shot, but we appreciate you going.” You even add that in.

You knew of a few pilots who served during the Hoth raid. It’s an unforgiving planet, takes a lot of guts to investigate that icy fortress.

“What’s the next order?” Mando asks firm, all business, just like Ward had told you.

You slide him a bounty chip containing info on a possible military officer who could be running a smuggling ring. The mandalorian doesn’t say anything else, simply takes the card and stands up.

“Come on, kid.” All he does is address the baby, not even sparing you a second glance.

Cute and so politely, the kid hands back your loth cat with a noise that feels like a thank you.

“You’re welcome, little cutie,” you tell him warmly.

Once the pair are out of sight, you sigh exhausted, relieved, and sprawl out on the table glad it’s over. Someone barks a laugh, and you aren’t even embarrassed about it.

You can’t wait till this is over.

It’s already been a week and a half of being grounded, doing these debriefs with Mando. You miss being in the skies. But all that hope of getting back in the clouds gets squashed.

“I need to negotiate a few more issues with Senator Organa… can you continue to do the debrief?” It isn’t much of a question but more of an order from Ward.

So you meet with Mando for the rest of the week and into the next. It’s cordial, barely speaking for more than ten minutes with each other.

You try to be friendly, make a joke about the weather, but he just silently stares at you, obviously annoyed.

And it pisses you off all over again.

But you think of the adorable little baby who eagerly tags along with the terrifying hunter. The kid sweetly waves, and you wave back. You started bringing treats after his guardian chided him for eating some of yours.

The annoyed sigh Mando gave when you brought more snacks to share was worth it.

This time you decided to bring something else along with you.

It was the first charm your sister gave you when you became a pilot. A tradition her daughter, your niece, now does with you.

“Look!” You eagerly hold up the plush creature that makes the baby’s eyes go wide.

With adorable tiny grabby hands, he reaches for it and you happily hand it over.

You grin pleased seeing how pleased the kid coos.

“What’s your name?” The sudden question from Mando surprises you.

A bit stunned, you give it to him.

He nods solemnly, repeating it. Your heart does a strange flip hearing his deep voice say your name.

“This is Grogu.” He then introduces the kid who chimes in hearing his name.

“Nice to meet you, Grogu.” You excitedly greet the kid.

Then you turn to Grogu’s guardian. This solemn but striking mandalorian now has you curious to who he is. Your mind thinks about the rumors that have spread about him.

“And you? What’s your name?” You ask politely, but immediately you can almost hear Dyana screaming at you. She’s become the new expert on Mandalorian customs.

“They’re private people,” she had told you, confirming what Ward had said. “It’s probably why not a lot of people know about him, much less his name.”

“I’m sorry, forgive me.” You stammer quickly. “You don’t have to give it.”

A moment passes, and you worry you’ve unraveled this tentative truce or whatever it is.

“Din… Din Djarin.” His full name. It’s lovely.

“Din…” you repeat it.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” And you mean that.

Mando, Din, nods, and you think it’s worth the few weeks being out of the skies.

When Din and Grogu leave you realize the kid still holds onto your plush charm.

“Come on kid, give it back.” Din urges noticing too.

“No it’s okay. He can keep it. Give it back to me next time.” You grin at the baby, and Grogu giggles pleased at the answer.

“What do you say, kid?”

Grogu chirps a sweet thanks and waddles away content with the plushie in his arms.

The next day, as promised, he brings it back. But you exchange another charm with him. This time it’s a cute cloud with a sweet face. Eager for the new trinket, Grogu ditches the plushie and you laugh.

Work then follows suit. Din explains on the intel he’s slowly gaining on the imp official.

“Taking a bit longer than expected.” Din gruffly admits.

“Don’t worry. Rodents like him know how to hide. It’s not your fault. Then again that’s probably an insult to rodents.” You’ve been trying to stay professional, channel your inner composed Colonel Ward. But the old rebel pilot comes out.

Suddenly, a chuckle follows.

Din laughed.

You swear you misheard it. But the way Grogu giggles agreeing with his protector, you know you heard correctly.

“A fair statement.” Din agrees.

And you grin back at him. A golden victorious feeling bubbles in your chest.

Watching the pair leave, you find you’re excited to see them again.

The rest of the debriefs go smoother than ever. You bring new charms for Grogu to play with, and Din seems to settle in more.

“You have a lot of those.” He even comments a bit dry when you exchange another new charm with Grogu. This time it’s a fuzzy bantha.

“Managed to gather a small collection.” You explain.

“Really… couldn’t tell.” Din deadpans.

That’s when you realized he just joked with you.

“Think you might like those two,” Zeb teases the next time he drops by the mess hall.

“It’s called being civil.” You stubbornly reply while messing with the holopad, and the Lasat warrior barks a laugh.

“Civil? Yeah sure.” He teases further.

You stay stubbornly quiet.

“Don’t worry… They’ve a pain in my ass too.” Zeb huffs, and it does soothe your annoyance.

Especially now that something is festered in you, a sort of curious itch to learn more about Din Djarin.

“I heard… he really did blow up an entire imperial base. That’s how Teva found him.” Dyana is happy to spill more gossip about him.

“He’s quiet, doesn’t talk much. So I doubt he’d say anything even if he did.” You mutter.

“Does he really keep a pet around?” Dyana presses for any new info.

The word ‘pet’ sounds harsh.

“He’s more like the kid’s guardian.” The word ‘parent’ instead wants to slip out especially after you’ve seen Din’s fatherly watch over the baby.

“Oh that’s even more interesting! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?!” Dyana shrieks.

“You’ve been busy.” You half lie.

You could argue that it’s because you want to protect Din’s trust and don’t want to disturb that. But the truth is, you don’t want to share this little secret bond you’ve cultivated with him.

You however rapidly kick those thoughts away.

Ward will be back sometime this week. Your brief time with the Mandalorian would be over soon.

Except that time comes sooner than expected.

The next morning Colonel Ward arrives, an early return. Disappointment arrives just as fast. You knew this was only a temporary thing.

Trying not to feel annoyed, you now work on your x-wing. Deep under the hull, you refuel trying just to keep your mind focused here.

“Didn’t know you were a mechanic.” Suddenly, the rich voice of a certain mandalorian echoes in the hanger.

You scramble out from under the ship confused if you heard right.

But standing off to the side are indeed Din and Grogu.

“What? Thought I just did paper work and worked as an assistant?” You tease.

Din chuckles, and it sinks into the glowing sunlight coating the hanger in its glory.

“You’re looking at one of the New Republic’s best pilots!” Dyana.

She perks up emerging from the other side of the ship, and you shoot a glare her way not even knowing where she came from.

“A pilot?” Din questions, curious.

His helmet tilts towards you.

“Sometimes,” you shrug.

“And I wouldn’t say best.” You weakly laugh then glower at Dyana again. She simply beams innocently back at you.

“One day you gotta tell him about Endor. Though I’m sure you have plenty of fight stories to share too, Mando!”

You want to strangle her.

“You fought at Endor?” Din asks, helmet fully facing you and voice faintly awed.

It all makes your skin feel heated and tight.

All you can do is shrug again.

Endor seems like so long ago now. You were so much younger then. Wild and ready to sacrifice it all for the sake of protecting everything you loved. A small secret corner of your heart aches for those days of when you flew with such fire.

“Well… gotta go! Nice to finally meet you both!” Dyana nods to Din and smiles at the baby before scurrying away.

A traitor in the flesh fleeing if you ever did see one.

“So…an x-wing pilot.” Din comments, still watching you. His curious and impressed tone ignites a strange sensation in your chest that threatens to consume you.

“On good days I am.” You again shrug with a half smile.

“So what was Endor like?” He inquires, and you’re surprised he’s curious about that.

“Don’t know, never went on planet… kinda was busy flying around.”

You don’t even need to see his face to know he’s giving you a silent unamused stare. He must not think your joke is as funny as you do.

A surprised giggle does come though. Both you and Din discover Grogu effortlessly climbing up onto the wing of the ship.

“Kid.” Din chides.

“How did you get up there so fast?” You laugh amused at the sight of this tiny creature waddling on top of your x-wing.

Din sighs, truly parental.

“I take it that you fly?” You ask him yet keeping your gaze on Grogu to make sure he stays safe.

“I do.” Din answers, confident.

“Must be why he’s so curious and comfortable around ships. It’s good when kids get to experience being in the air.” You think of your niece who eagerly tries to convince you to fly her around.

“My niece is the same way.” You reveal.

Din hums a noise, acknowledging he’s listening.

“Is she the reason why you have all those charms?” He asks in a tone softer than you’ve ever heard.

“Excuse you, they are medals of honor.” You jokingly try to sound offended.

“With you I wouldn’t be surprised.” He replies deadpan, and you snicker.

“But yeah… she’s the one who gives them to me.” You explain how it was your sister who first started giving you those charms to decorate your x-wing.

They were to remind you to come home safe.

“I was ordered not to come home unless I brought the charms back safe and sound.” You repeat the same words your sister told you.

A soft breeze enters the hanger bringing in a welcoming cooling touch. But it’s then you realize how close you’re now standing next to Din. You didn’t even notice when you or him moved closer to each other.

“That’s… sweet.” His voice carries a tenderness that sneaks under your ribs and sinks in deep.

You turn and find he’s already looking at you.

Under Din’s gaze, it’s like you’re caught in a tractor beam unable to speak or move.

Dangerous thoughts have already begun clouding your mind, and they all connect back to this man. Like how you’ve noticed how broad his shoulders look, and how strong he is helping move crates around the base. What’s worse is you’ve begun wondering what this mandalorian looks like under his helm.

Grogu’s little giggle finally draws your attention away. Currently he peeks inside the cockpit through the window.

“So I take it this is your ship?” Din asks.

“No, I stole it.” You quip back.

“Sure you did.” His dry reply makes you snicker.

“It’s how I got to fight at Endor.” You jest, stealing a quick glance at Din. Of course he shakes his head unamused.

“Thought you didn’t see Endor.” He uses your dry joke back at you, and you can’t help it.

You playfully elbow him.

Another little giggle comes. Glancing back to the ship, Grogu now peers over from the wing’s edge grinning at you and Din.

“Little troublemaker, are you going to be a pilot one day?” You smile at Grogu.

“Mweh!” He squeals.

“I think that’s a yes,” you tell Din proudly.

“No.” Din answers back firmly.

“It’s okay I’ll teach you one day,” you counter sweetly, and the baby giggles more.

“No.” Din repeats again firmer.

A small cluster of pilots approach. Their laughter and conversation fill the air. Guess this moment is over.

“Still need to see Ward… shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Din is smooth about making his exit.

Quickly Grogu jumps into his arms, and you bid the duo goodbye for now.

You haven’t been in the air for long, but it feels like you’re floating now.

The moments you see the pair become like scattered stars.

Months settle in, and a routine follows. You sometimes see Din in the mess hall cantina when you return from a mission. Discussing with the colonel, all you can simply do is give your boys quick smiles.

Other times Din stops by the hanger where you linger now more than ever hoping he drops by. You and him talk about work, missions, the various planets visited.

You want to ask what got him to work for the new republic, but you don’t want to disturb whatever is growing between you and him.

“It’s budding love.” Dyana sagely declares one evening at the cantina, and Zeb agrees.

“It’s not!” You screech over a drink.

“I don’t think Mando has said more than five words to me, yet I see him talking to you so much.” Another pilot chimes in.

“He talks to Zeb the most!” You argue back. The two of them are often paired up on missions now. You try not to get annoyed by it.

“Not as much as you, kid.” Zeb rebuttals.

“Don’t think we haven’t seen the way he hangs around the hanger for you.” Sash Ketter snickers, and it only ignites the discussion once again.

You dismiss all their words as attempts trying to rile you up.

Because you don’t want to face the truth. You long for your chats with Din, even just to see him for a moment and play with Grogu.

It’s just an awful infatuation. That’s it.

Your small vacation break now approaching may be more of a blessing than you realize. It’ll hopefully give you time to clear your head.

“I’m heading home to visit family. I’ll be sure to bring back something good.” You tell Din the next time you run into him outside the cantina.

“There’s no need. Just… be safe.” Din nods.

His gentle words carry you the entire flight home.

The brief week away provides peaceful moments of relaxation. While you enjoy the time spent with your sister’s family, you long to return to Adelphi.

“So, what did you get me this time?” You ask your niece the day before you’re set to head back.

“I got you… THIS!” She proudly raises up an odd creature. You can’t even tell what it is.

“She made it herself.” Your sister whispers, and your eyes go wide.

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me we have an artist in this family now?!” You cry excitedly scooping up your niece in your arms and tickle her with glee as she squeaks excitedly.

“Actually before I go… Do you think you can help me make one too?” You ask her and your niece's eyes light up.

With eager hands she gathers all her supplies to deposit them on the table ready to craft.

“So… are you going to tell me who you’re making this for?” Your sister asks slightly suspiciously as you add little puffballs to your monster creation.

“What if I just want my charm to have a friend, huh?” You deflect.

“Yeah sure.” She’s not convinced but thankfully doesn’t press any further.

As hard as it is saying goodbye to her and your niece, you’re thankful to finally be back to your routine.

And of course, the new little charm sitting in your pocket seems to hold so much weight.

Din returns a few days after you. It’s hard trying to ignore the bubbling joy that rises watching him approach your x-wing first.

“Welcome back.” He greets and Grogu squeals adorably scurrying to you.

Eagerly you welcome his jump into your arms, and you squeeze him tight.

“I miss you too,” you tell Grogu but hope his father knows you mean him as well.

“And look, I got something for you.” You shift to hold Grogu in one arm.

Then you hold up the new charm.

“What is it supposed to be?” Din sounds confused and slightly alarmed.

“It’s a little monster,” you reply lightly insulted.

“My niece and I made these, and I knew someone who might like it.” You grin towards Grogu now.

“Bweh!” He cheers and draws the charm into his small arms so enamored with the strange monstrosity already.

“See! He likes it, that's what matters.” You huff proudly at Din.

Grogu chirps like he agrees. You laugh then catch Din’s chuckle too.

“What do you say, kid?” Din says.

Grogu however doesn’t say anything. Instead he leans up and hugs you. His sweet little arms curl against your neck.

Holding this baby so tight is like holding a little newborn star. You’re grateful for this moment and hug Grogu close, closing your eyes to fully embrace this wonderful tiny soul.

“You’re welcome, little troublemaker.” You softly tell him.

The baby then settles into your arms as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Worried you might have overstepped, you quickly snap your attention to Din. His helmet stays focused on you.

You wonder what his eyes look like, what color swims within his gaze.

“Glad you’re back safe.” Din’s voice sounds low, softer and a bit thick.

“Me too,” you reply, letting yourself sink into whatever it is overtaking your entire heart.

This infatuation, or whatever it’s mutated into, grows stronger. And it terrifies you.

But you’re reminded quickly there are more terrifying things to face.

The wound isn’t looking good.

You’re more pissed at yourself for getting ambushed by damn pirates. This operation was supposed to be simple, check in on the distress signal intercepted by base. But one pirate ambush later and you’re now stranded trying to stop the bleeding.

You just hope the emergency signal you sent back to camp went through. Leaning against your ship, you take a deep breath trying to calm yourself down. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Until something pierces your back, and a scream of pain escapes you. Electricity courses through your body knocking you to the ground.

Everything stings. You can barely concentrate, but you hear them. Gleeful disgusting laughs swirling all around. The damn pirates…

“Think of the price we’ll get for x-wing parts!” One of them muses.

“Or even for the pilot, quite a cute one.” That comment unleashes a panicked feral terror.

Get up, you have to get up. Even though every part of your body stings, screaming to stay still, you have to move.

You slowly try to sit up through the aftershocks, but then a boot comes to slowly step on your chest, pressing you down to the dirt.

“Nah uh little pilot, where do ya think you’re going.” A voice snickers.

You clench your jaw hard. This isn’t looking good.

A sudden blaster shot fires and immediately takes out a pirate with accurate precision.

“What was that?!” One of them screams.

Then a blaster shot silenced him.

“Step away from her now.” Din.

Or someone sounding like him.

The voice is deadly, terrifying, and you wonder if it even is Din.

Then the pirate towering above you with his boot still pressing on your chest suddenly gets thrown off.

Weakly you cough sitting up. While you do, you witness Din in action and realize he’s truly here.

And the way he attacks, effortlessly slicing through the pirate captain and the lackeys that try rushing him - he’s incredible.

You’ve never seen anyone fight so fluidly and powerful. You’re witnessing one of the most powerful warriors in the galaxy…

And he’s here to save you.

A small concerned whimper comes to your side and immediately you glance down. Grogu quickly waddles to your arm and flashes his wide worried eyes up to you.

“I’m okay, I promise.” He must see the wound, and you try smiling reassuringly.

He hums a small noise at you. Then he closes his eyes, laying his little claw against your elbow. Slowly a gentle warmth suddenly crawls up your shoulder.

What is he doing?

The stinging pain vanishes instantly. Reaching up to your shoulder, you find no wound.

“Mweh.” Grogu peers up at you with a small little wave.

“You really are something else, little trouble maker… thank you.” You fondly stroke his fuzzy little head, and he beams.

Din urgently yells your name and soon rushes to kneel before you. Gloved hands reach out to steady your shoulders.

“I’m fine.” You now reassure him and move to squeeze one of his hands.

An exhale escapes Din, relieved.

“I’m sorry you both had to come all the way out here. I’m sure there are better bounties to hunt.” You half tease.

“Don’t apologize.” He immediately snaps.

Grogu makes a sad noise as if chiding his father.

“Just glad you’re safe.” So Din gently adds and steadily helps you stand.

Zeb lands moments later with a mechanic to help patch up your ship. The entire time Din stays by your side, letting you lean against him for support. His guiding hand never leaves you.

You’re given the rest of the week off to recover.

“So was Mando on a mission with you when my distress beacon went out?” You ask Zeb when he drops by to check on you.

He snorts, giving you a knowing side eye smirk.

“Is that what you think?” Zeb doesn’t elaborate even when you pester him.

It’s Dyana of course who reveals the truth.

“Mando was the first to rush out. Ward had to practically stop him before he flew off on his own.” Her words unravel something effortlessly in you.

How can you ignore these feelings for a mandalorian anymore?

“I think it’s romantic.” Dyana thankfully doesn’t judge you when you finally admit everything to her.

There was no time for romance during a rebellion, during a war. Even now you almost scoff at the idea. There are other things to do, other things to focus on than get lovesick over someone.

But Din dismantled all those old thoughts in you, leaving you exposed and almost greedy for someone now.

“It’s okay to want that you know… romance and companionship.” Dyana tells you already sensing your hesitation.

You know her and a cute mechanic have been dating off and on for a while. She’s always been urging you to get out more, maybe try to find someone. Guess you just had to wait for a mandalorian to show up.

But you have to put all those giggles and feelings aside.

Your time resting is done, and immediately you’re thrown back into the rush of work.

A mission and orders arrive a few days later on your datapad.

Raid strike this week, get ready

It’s not a full strike squadron, but you’re thankful Zeb is tagging along.

“Think your boyfriend might be joining us.” He teases, and your eyes narrow hard. Now you regret him being here.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You rapidly dismiss.

“Huh uh.” He rolls his eyes.

As if summoned to add to your pain, Din enters the command center. It feels like feral lizard birds were released in your stomach.

Immediately his helmet spots you. Grogu perched on his shoulder chirps upon seeing you. Trying to act relaxed, you give the boys a casual wave and bright grin.

Zeb chuckles, and you silently shush him again under your breath. You walk to meet Din halfway.

“Glad you’re doing better.” He says, faintly warm, and you nod grateful.

“Thanks to my two heroes,” you thank them both again. Grogu beams toothy when you tickle his chin.

Din doesn’t say anything.

“Guess we’re finally teaming up.” So you speak up first.

“Seems like it,” Din agrees.

This isn’t the first time he’s seen you in your pilot gear. Hell, he just rescued you last week. But for some reason, you feel more self aware than ever.

Thankfully Ward enters, drawing the room’s attention to her.

The mission is to ambush the warlord now barricaded up in his mansion. He’s apparently greatly armed and even hired a small air brigade. It’s why this strike squadron was called in. You’re curious why Din is here though.

“Without the mandalorian’s intel, we wouldn’t have this opportunity. So we will be following his lead.” She sends her focus to him.

Din simply and silently nods back.

Then he moves to the holo map and gives details about the estate. Hearing how commanding and surefire his voice resounds, the way he walks confidently and without any hesitation, he’s incredible.

But there’s no time to linger on this warrior.

It’s time to fly.

“Finally get to see you in action,” you tell Din as he walks out with you.

“Guess you will.” He replies with a hint of something playful, and it only speeds up your racing heart.

All you can do is laugh before parting ways.

“Don’t get lost in the clouds.” You teasingly yell to the mandalorian and he looks back at you from over his shoulder.

You can’t see Din’s eyes, but you hope they’re amused.

Him and Grogu now trail away from where you’re stationed, and you settle into your ship.

Your x-wing roars alive, and the familiar comms flicker in your ear. Then the call signals electrify the start to battle.

“Delphi squadron, lock in.” Teva announces on the main channel, the leader for this run. Everyone follows suit locking in their coordinates.

“Blue 9, standing by.” You chime in, readying the flight path.

“Starfighter, standing by.” Then a new voice floats through your helmet.

The tone resonates rich as a stormy ocean sending a shock through your system.

Hearing Din in your helmet does something to you so wild that you feel guilty at how fast your core clenched. You recollect yourself fast.

That’s when you notice the ship he joined in with.

A starfighter? There’s no way. Those ships don’t exist.

But again, you’re proven so wrong.

Among the gunfire and smoke, the sounds of battle, a new gleam of silver catches your attention. The Naboo N-1 fighter is a marvel.

A sleek whisper of a dream, one minute she’s a simple flicker of light then the next she’s firing directly in the trenches of the fight.

But as in awe of the ship as you are, it’s the mandalorian who leaves you breathless.

Din flies amazing. The fast maneuvering, the excellent read he makes of the battle, among his readiness to swoop in and out of tight spaces - you’ve never seen anyone fly this beautifully.

It inspires you, the type of flying that makes you want to soar higher to catch up.

So you do.

You embrace the rebel pilot you always might be and dive through the canyons chasing after one of the bandits the warlord hired.

Quickly you dispatch the enemy ship then swirl and maneuver your x-wing to return to the open sky.

“Target on your left.” Din’s voice suddenly thunders in your ear, chiming in on your personal channel.

“Got it.” You reply steady and twist fast enough to fire on the swing mid air.

“Got him, great shot!” Listening to Din’s deep fierce voice over your private channel, his voice colored in pride, you have to mute the channel to exhale.

Because a wave of arousal crawled up your spine so fast you had to bite your lip. Now you try settling yourself down again.

You pride yourself on being composed when you fly. There of course have been times when you’ve gotten emotional and maybe reacted.

Yet here this masked man completely disarms you.

It’s a fight you realize you won’t win.

The raid is successful, and the warlord gets taken in alive. That’s the win that matters.

“Great job,” Din suddenly voices back in your comms, still sounding so proud, and you melt all over again.

“You too, thanks for the support,” you answer back, just as fond, then rapidly switch over the channel.

“Captain,” you ask Teva on his personal comms.

“Before we leave, do you think I can test Mando on how he flies?”

Teva takes a moment then sighs.

“Make it quick.”

Giddy you quickly chime back onto Din’s channel.

“Wanna go for a run?” A part of you worries he won’t want to join you.

“Lead the way.” But Din quickly answers, and you pull back up to the clouds.

The planet is rather gorgeous, full of lush canyons and towering mountains. It’s a flight playground. Among the skies, twisting and twirling down through the natural landscape, you and Din soar around each other, with each.

Playful, yet delicately cautious, your x-wing revolves alongside his starfighter. Din keeps up with you every moment. Quietly the image of a dance among the clouds floats into your mind.

“Up for a race?” He suddenly asks.

“Oh, you know it.” You agree, excited. You settle into your seat, ready to take off.

But in a flash, he zooms past you.

“What the hell?!” You shriek over the comms.

Din’s husky laugh in your ear is a beautiful reward.

Returning back to Adelphi, you and him fly beside each other. Ward gives everyone the night off, and the cantina already seems to shine extra bright landing in.

Settling into your spot in the hanger, you notice Din lands his starfighter closer than ever.

Sliding off your helmet, for a moment you worry about how bad your hair looks, how messy and sweaty you must be.

But heading down the ladder, Din already walks towards you.

All your worries vanish. You don’t even care how fast you walk towards him. Here standing before Din under the low lights of the hanger, the world melts away.

“You were incredible.”

“You flew… amazing.”

Both you and Din speak at the same time, words jumbling up and getting tangled. It startles you, even his shoulders stiffen a bit.

Then you laugh.

“No, you were the incredible one.” You tell him first.

“Not compared to you,” he shakes his head.

“Glad I finally got to see one of the Rebellion’s and New Republic’s best pilots in action.” There’s a smirk in his voice, and heat burns through your veins.

Any words you want to say, he’s stolen them right from you. All you’re reduced to is a love struck fool caught in the orbit of this powerful mandalorian.

Din doesn’t say anything either. It’s like you and him can’t look away from the other standing this close.

“Hey! Ya two love birds gonna join us or what?” Zeb suddenly breaks the spell, and your blood instantly boils.

You hiss foul curses at Zeb, and he only cackles with laughter.

Embarrassed and trying to escape this moment you shake your head heading towards the exit.

“Come on, let’s go celebrate.” You manage to smile at Din hoping to dispel any comments about what Zeb said.

The mandalorian follows you into the mess hall cantina. The lively celebratory air glimmers with joyous laughter. It’s a welcoming atmosphere, and even Wolf along with a few other pilots ask Din to join them.

“Maybe in a bit,” He nods, instead staying by your side when you approach the bar.

“No pressure, but drinks on me if you want.” You offer.

“I’ll pass, but thanks.” He instead places down credits for your drink, and you thank him with a toast.

“Come on, let’s see how good of a sabacc player you are.” After taking a huge sip, you allow the alcohol to sting in the best way.

“Think you might be dissapointed,” Din chuckles.

Of course he’s a damn natural.

Everyone at the table cries in frustration when he wins the second round, and you even narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, so you’re a liar.” You joke good naturedly.

“Never said I was good or bad.” He answers and it’s rather coy, lighter than what you’ve heard from him.

“Next time Mando I want you comin’ with me off planet! We could really win big.” Someone suggests and now it’s comforting seeing how much everyone has warmed up to him, how much Din has settled in here too.

Until you realize the baby is missing and immediately turn to Din. Maybe it’s the atmosphere but you lean closer to him placing your hand against his arm.

“Wait, where’s Grogu?” You ask concerned and low.

Din leans closer to you, his helmet almost grazing your face.

“Don’t worry, he’s asleep in the barracks.” Din’s answer comes low, reassuring.

Then he reaches up to lay his hand on top of yours. It’s a reassuring hold, a soft touch that brings comfort.

You exhale relieved and don’t have time to realize what he just did until someone drags Din away to play darts.

He squeezed your hand, and you now fight against a dumb smile just thinking about it.

Even after another round of getting your ass kicked at cards, you don’t care. You glance over to Din.

A cluster of pilots surround him. You’re not surprised. He’s a marvel, someone truly remarkable. But one of the prettier pilots slides up next to Din, batting her eyelashes so dreamily up at him.

Something fierce, venomous and coated in jealousy, strikes.

Reaching to Wolf, you nudge his shoulder a few times, and he knowingly looks at you. Not saying anything, he discreetly slips you a smoke stick.

You head out of the cantina into the soft warm night and light up. The smoke in your lungs settles you down for a moment and cuts through the alcohol.

Dumb Mandalorian man making you feel this way…

Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you watch the smoke you exhale mix into the air.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” Din.

His voice melts into the night like he stepped out of the shadows themselves. As he wanders towards you, you shift to lean against the rail of the patio.

“Not often,” you truthfully answer. It’s been a long time since you lit up.

A bad habit you picked up during your rebellion days, being as young as you were around seasoned veteran pilots. It became a way to calm yourself down and stop your hands from shaking from the nerves.

You even tell him that.

“What made you join?” He asks, tentative and quiet.

A loaded question but one you feel comfortable enough to answer, especially with him.

The empire took so much from you. You’re grateful you and your sister managed to keep each other safe, look out for each other. You weren’t lying when you joked about stealing ships. Learning to steal is how you survived for a while as a kid.

Then you accidentally stole from a man named Luthen Rael, and your life changed. Whatever he saw in your eyes that day when he caught you… it kept you alive.

He’s the one who helped get your wings, got you in touch with rebellion once you could fly. Once you joined, you never saw him again.

“Never looked back since.” You tell this all to Din.

You don’t regret your choices. They’re what brought you here after all, kept you safe even during the danger.

“You did what you had to… you should be proud of the life you’ve made. Of the wars you've fought and survived.” Din sincerely commends you, and his words settle deep in your heart.

You softly thank him, appreciating the sentiment.

“And you? What brought you to the New Republic?” Taking another drag of the smoke stick, you finally decide to ask.

This time he’s sighing and moves to lean against the rail beside you. He’s pressed up right beside you.

“Benn a long way to get here as well.” He’s vague, but explains how he was, and still is a bounty hunter by trade. How that path led him to the kid. How Grogu is by Mandalorian creed his son and apprentice now.

“I couldn't keep getting involved with pirates, working for gangsters. It’s not the life I wanted anymore.”

It’s admirable seeing how valiant Din’s spirit shines, yet you hear how weary his soul must be like he carries so much guilt.

“There are wars you’ve fought too, Din. You should be proud of your victories. Even the ones you don’t think you should be.” Maybe it’s the fading alcohol and slow numbness of the smoke stick, but you want more than ever to just hold him.

You go to take another drag to stop yourself from doing anything reckless, but find your smoke stick is burnt to its final end.

“I don’t.. deserve such kind words. But thank you.” Din’s voice is thick, tangled in thorny emotions.

Yet underneath it all, he sounds softer and raw, like a man trying to find comfort in your words.

So you turn and see his striking dark T visor gaze on you.

A moment passes where it’s just you and him under the night sky, staring at each other.

“No matter what path you took, I'm glad you’re here.” You earnestly tell him.

In such a short amount of time this mandalorian has reawakened something in you and takes up such a large part of your heart.

“Me too.” Din mutters, nodding.

Another x-wing lands outside stealing your attention away as the engines break the quiet night air.

“Always been curious to how they fly.” Din suddenly comments sounding intrigued.

“You wanna see?”

He turns to you, helmet tilted incredulous and challenging.

“Come on,” so you challenge him back with a toothy grin.

Immediately Din follows behind you, footsteps quick yet terrifying agile.

The hanger sits in eerie stillness this time of night.

“Should we even be here?” Din asks low, a bit cautious.

“Didn’t take you as a ‘by the books’ guy, Mando.” You use the common name everyone calls him as a tease.

“Only when it comes to my employer.” He replies unamused.

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.” You wave him off and he continues following you further into the dark hanger.

He doesn’t know it, but this place, especially for pilots, is an infamous makeout spot. You try not to think about that too much.

There you arrive at your x-wing.

“Hop in,” you nudge him towards the ladder.

“What?” Din sounding so boyish and confused makes you laugh.

“Get in,” you urge.

Sighing defeated he climbs up the ladder to the cockpit and you follow. You look away trying not to stare at his cute ass.

“Can we even fit in this?”

“X-wings are capable of holding various types and sizes of pilots. We are not the empire, thank you very much,” you proudly declare.

The hatch opens, and Din jumps in. The dashboard and control panel light up as he takes a seat in your chair.

Your throat goes dry seeing him sit in the same pilot seat you fly in.

“Throttle, control stick,” he points out immediately.

As much room as you have, it is cramped standing up. So you curl to the side, closer to him, but keep your eyes on the control monitor.

“It’s got a good radar system.” Din comments admiring the monitor too.

You rattle on about how these are the upgraded models everyone got after the war. The original ones you used during the rebellion are classic, but the upgrades were warmly welcomed.

“Sorry, this all must sound boring.” You weakly laugh.

“It’s not. Tell me more.” He reassures.

You’re about to until you hear commotion around the hanger.

So, quickly you scramble up and around to slide into the seat -

Right between the V of Din’s legs.

You crouch low and drag him down too.

“Wh…what are you-”

“Shh…” you shush him. “Have to lie low just in case.”

“So we should leave.” Din urges urgent.

“We’re fine.” You reassure him now.

The commotion you thought you heard passes by, and silence returns.

You exhale a bit relieved, moving to sit up. Then you grin at him from over your shoulder.

“See… told you we’d be fine.”

He stays quiet.

It hits you. Maybe you upset him or crossed a line being this close. Though you aren’t fully pressed up against his chest, the position is still intimate. You’re literally between his legs.

You want to apologize, especially now that the courage fades away fast.

But all you can think about is how stunning Din is, how gorgeous he looks here in your ship.

“One day you should fly it.” You truthfully blurt out while staring at him.

“Don’t think Ward would let me.” He stiffly replies.

“I would.” You immediately counter.

“Plus you look good in here...” Then you realize what you just admitted.

So you try to recover fast.

“Knowing your skills, if you had been with us during the rebellion days, you would’ve fit in just fine. Probably would’ve even been half as good as me.” You add hastily, half joking, hoping he doesn’t linger on anything you said before.

You now glance away to check out the window. The hanger is thankfully still empty.

Then Din suddenly softly breathes your name.

You’ve never heard it sound so holy and raw that it rips you wide open. You completely shift around to glance at him in the lowly light cockpit.

“How inebriated are you?” He asks husky, thick.

“I could recite the entire radar flight plan chart we made for Endor.” You tell him completely wide awake now. Every part of you feels like a live wire completely focused on this man.

His low weak chuckle makes your stomach flip in the best way.

Din exhales, breathy and deep.

You don’t want to over step, don’t want to ruin this. So you patiently wait, hoping he makes the first move.

Feeling his arms slide around yours, tentative but curious, you’re galvanized.

Immediately you rise and twist around to fully stare down at him. Looking at Din for a moment, here in the cockpit of your ship, you want to burn this image into your memory. Want to consecrate this in a way you never may do with anyone else again.

You rest your legs on either side of his, caging him in then you settle down onto his lap.

The soft low noise Din makes is music to your ears.

He says your name, but it sounds more like a warning.

“I want this… I want you.” You tell him, finally admitting the words out loud.

Then, you grind down on his lap, straddling him, and immediately pleasure floods into your system.

Din groans, and it spurs you on instantly.

Frustrated that you’re still in your damn flight suit, you unzip the top, slide off the jacket, and exhale feeling the coolness reach your skin. Sliding your hands up to his shoulders you whisper his name.

Then you grind against the bulge in Din’s pants pressing into you, and your mind goes foggy.

But not foggy enough that you notice Din remains still.

Everything collides into you with a halting stop. What if he doesn’t want this?

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” You halt your movements and apologize composed as you can. Awkwardly you lift yourself off of him.

“No I-” Din starts, but then stops himself.

You settle back down on him but this time further back on his thighs.

“Do you… not want to do this?” You ask cautiously. “Because it’s okay if you don’t.”

It’s okay if you don’t want me, is what you actually want to say. But you’re not brave enough for that, no matter how many empire ships you’ve shot down.

“No.” Din noisily exhales frustrated.

His hands go to rest on your thighs. His head falls forward, crestfallen.

“I want this, want you. Just afraid I won’t be able to stop.” He admits weak.

“You don’t have to stop… I don’t want you to.” You admit, soft and greedy, deciding not to hold back now.

Here in your ship, you think maybe he’s become your prey, trapped in your spiderweb. But then his helmet ever so slightly tilts up to you. Under the watch of his unflinching visor, you now feel like a prey caught within a hunter’s gaze.

His heavy breathing grows stronger and reignites something in you.

“Din,” You mutter his name, and he lets out a strained curse.

“I think about you… too much.” Din reveals like it’s a painful truth, as if the words hurt to say.

“I think about you all the time.” The truth leaves you effortlessly now.

“Wonder about what color your eyes are,” You decide to be the brave rebellion pilot you are.

“If you and the baby are safe, eating well,” you add, and he chuckles breathily.

“I think about how brave you are and how… lucky I am to know you,” you continue feeling molten and sentimental now.

Din says your name again, this time tender, and it almost causes you to falter.

So you lean closer to his helmet.

“I think about how handsome you are… imagine your cock inside me.” You mutter and hearing the words aloud feels too much.

But then his strong hands dig into your thighs and slide you on his lap fully, dragging you across his clothed cock.

How strong he pulled you, the fast friction draws a whine from you.

“Yeah?” He growls and leans his helmet directly against your face. The cool beskar touching your skin is heavenly.

“Yeah.” You moan, and your hips begin their rhythm again.

This time it’s not just you moving. Din finally grinds up into you, and you see stars. Your underwear sticks to your sticky core, but you don’t care.

Not when you and Din rut against each other and his hands chart a path all over you. One hand slides up to your neck, anchoring you close to him. The other moves to your back, sliding up to bunch your tank top in his grasp.

It’s too hot now, and you’re wearing too many clothes.

So you weakly draw away from his hold to reach up and yank your top off.

Then you wiggle the last bit of the jump suit off, trying to let your hips and legs be free. But it’s hard.

Din even chuckles at your struggle, and you shoot him a look, annoyed. Patiently, he helps slide the material down until it pools down your legs.

Now you’re simply in your underwear, completely bare before him.

The sensation of his gloved hands running up your stomach, across your back, reverently taking in every inch of your bare soft skin, it melts you.

“Beautiful,” Din breathes in awe.

Then one of his gloved hands crawls up to knead your breast in his grasp, pinching your nipple. Your head falls back, and your hips return to seek relief. Grinding against him without the jumpsuit, the friction is so much stronger, a delicious undercurrent making you want more.

“Din,” You sob, feeling the pleasure build fast.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper quickly getting drunk on him.

He cusses again sharp, dragging you harder against his clothed cock.

A loss comes when his hands leave your body, but wearily your eyes open once you feel him move to his pant buckle. Eagerly you join in to help.

His cock in your hand is warm. He’s thick, delicious in size. He’s already leaking, and possessed by something raw you lean down to lightly spit on his cock. Din groans so loud you think it rattles your bones.

Stroking his cock slow, you love feeling his mess mix with your spit.

He quickly hisses your name.

“Inside now,” he urges, a desperate man. Clutching at your hips hard, he practically draws you up.

Who are you to deny your mandalorian?

He helps slide off your stick underwear, now fully bare.

Before you sink down on him, you lean closer to his helmet.

You don’t have to say anything. You simply look at him, a final reassurance to see if he wants this the way you want him.

A gloved hand curls up to your face, cradling your sweaty face, stroking your cheek. His touch is fond, and it rocks you more than anything.

He nods firm, so sure.

So you sink down on him, guiding him into you. Both you and him moan and the world implodes in the most beautiful way.

When you were younger and around the veteran pilots, they used to share tales of how they’d christen their ships. Back then, you couldn’t imagine bringing anyone into this sacred space to do that.

Now you don’t want Din to leave it.

A fervid raw desperation has you clinging to him, Din touches you so protectively, keeping you close. His hands clutch you firm, like he’s worried you could fly away from him at any moment.

Needing to be closer, you curl against his neck. You ache to kiss his skin. But the smell of gunpowder, of something beautifully musky, purely Din, floods your mind and makes your mouth water.

His pace grows sloppy, and you feel it coming too.

“Where?” He slurs urgently.

“Inside, got the implant,” you mutter half dazed, but when you feel his cock twitch inside you moan embarrassingly loud.

“Inside Din please please please.” You now beg, wanting to feel him so badly.

“Not until you come first, wanna feel you.” Din demands growling back, and it pushes you over the edge.

Your climax knocks you into another realm. You’re floating. Din follows you over not long after with the deepest groan.

His warmth fills you, even feel it leaking out, causing you to whimper so content.

Exhausted you flop against his chest loving the cool press of his armor against your bare skin. Then a part of you hisses to pull away. Until Din’s helmet gently leans to rest against your head, and his gloved fingers tenderly stroke your back keeping you in place.

“So… you ever done that before in here?” Din asks, partially joking but still curious.

You shake your head no.

“You’re the only one.” You reveal.

His hand tracing across your skin suddenly stops. Then it fully draws across you to draw you closer to him in a soft like embrace.

An aching adoration for this man cements itself into you. It’s now etched into your heart and now your ship. Maybe the two are the same.

After this night, you find him everywhere now.

Anytime he or you return back from a mission, one seeks the other out.

Din and Grogu now even rest in your quarters.

The lodging here is small, but it’s become your makeshift home. Grogu snuggles up warm among the blanket pile you’ve made for him on the extra cot. And Din sleeps beside you in your bed.

You believed it was something sacred to know a mandalorian, but you realize it’s a true honor to find one seeking rest beside you.

Bathed in the moonlight leaking into your room, you and Din stare at each other lying side by side.

You wish he could relax more, maybe take off his armor.

But remaining helmeted, you understand his creed and don’t want to push. It’s just a small piece of you being selfish and wanting to see him.

“What’s wrong?” He notices your silence.

“I wish I could make this more comfortable for you.” Is the best way you can tell him.

He chuckles.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

To even prove it he settles deeper among the pillows sliding closer to you.

“Nicer than the cot that I have on Nevarro.”

You almost laugh. He’s so endearing sometimes and doesn’t even realize it.

But you’re reminded he does have a home.

“What’s your place like on Nevarro?” You ask about it.

“It’s good, simple.” Such a boring classic Din answer.

“Maybe… one day you can see it.” That addition he makes has your heart racing.

“Yeah, I’d like that” you nod, grateful for the offer.

Slowly your eyes close on their own now.

“Brown,” until suddenly he blurts out a random color.

Wearily opening your eyes blinking at him a bit confused.

“My eyes… they’re brown.” He reveals.

A soft grateful smile warms your face as you thank him.

You fall asleep beside him, wondering about his home, what it would be like to wake up and see his beautiful brown eyes.

But those daydreams get shoved away fast.

Missions begin piling up. The empire trash is getting sneakier, working faster in the shadows. It keeps everyone busy. You barely see Din. When you do the exchanges are brief, simple glances or even short catch ups.

Ward eyes you and Din suspicious but of course aware.

Approaching Din you try avoiding the colonel’s gaze as she leaves.

That’s when you spot the ship that flew in yesterday.

“You wanted… this hunk of junk?” You dubiously stare at the razor crest. This is the beloved ship Din apparently had been searching high and low for.

“She flies better than she looks.” Din defends.

Grogu excitedly waddles up the ramp eager to be inside the old ship.

You still eye the gunship worried about how good she can protect the cargo she’ll soon be carrying.

“Might not be a x-wing, but I trust this ship with my life.” Din senses your apprehension.

You give him a soft elbow nudge that barely makes his budge. But he playfully nudges you back, and a grin tugs at your lips.

“Ugh,” Zeb groans with faux disgust seeing you and Din. You roll your eyes.

“You know, I notice with all the markings… this ship looks like it could fit in with a gold squadron.” You tell Zeb nudging your chin towards the paint.

He barks a laugh.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight. This piece of junk flying with us?” Zeb muses.

“I don’t know…I think the crest would fight right in.” You shrug, fond.

“Yeah? Think we could get Mando in a uniform?” Zeb adds and Din flat out shuts that down with a hard no.

It makes you and Zeb snicker.

Now you head in to examine the ship yourself and look around. The older metal, the antique design and layout, it really doesn’t ease your apprehension, but you trust Din.

“Your beskar boy has shit taste picking a ship like this.” Zed snorts heading up to the cockpit.

“Shut up.” You practically hiss at him.

But he leaves you and Din alone.

It’s hard to navigate this strange space lingering between you and him, as if neither you or him know how to move.

So you decide to be brave. You grab his hand and squeeze it.

“Be safe,” you nod to the mandalorian.

He quietly nods back, gathering your hand in his. He squeezes back just as firm.

You head out of the razor crest and into the bright afternoon sun. From the cockpit window you spot your boys. Din nods a farewell, and Grogu spotting you waves down from the control panel. In his grasp is your silly little monster charm.

Not moving from your spot, you keep your eyes on the ship until it fades into the jump of hyperspeed.

You don’t hear from Din for half a month.

It’s nothing new. You’re had months where missions kept you both busy. And from how displeased she was with the last mission, Ward apparently has him working on something fierce.

Then another week passes, and you’re sent on a protective mission to Chandrilla.

It takes your full attention. But the entire time your mind is on Din. Are he and Grogu safe? Is everything going okay?

“You must be in love.” The Senator you’re escorting on the mission says suddenly. Embarrassment floods you fast.

“I’m sorry?” You ask slightly confused.

He smiles at you kindly.

“You’ve been sighing, seem distant. Like a heroine kept away from a lover.”

Shit.

“I apologize. I promised I’m focused.” You reassure him, and the senator laughs.

“It’s fine, my dear,” he reassures, then leans in eagerly. “So tell me about the lucky person.”

Now here you are telling this Senator about your awful admiration for the mandalorian.

“Oh, a mandalorian.” He whispers in awe. “They’re a rare kind. He must be quite a sight.”

He is. But he’s more than that.

He’s kind and unbelievingly sharp. Strikingly powerful, and unwaveringly supportive. There’s a compassion that walks hand in hand with Din’s firm courage.

“Oh you got it bad,” the Senator laughs.

It’s unfortunately true.

How fast and quickly this mandalorian has disarmed you, but what else would you have expected from a warrior like him? Maybe you were doomed from the start to fight against feelings for such a fierce conqueror.

The thoughts of him keep you going through the mission.

Arriving at base camp, you instead find there’s already commotion.

Din has returned, but he’s not alone.

Jabba’s son, Rotta the Hutt, is with him.

At least Din and the baby are safe.

Standing off overlooking the beach, Din patiently watches Grogu play among the beach waves with the young Hutt.

“So, looks like you’ve been busy.” You say moving to his side.

“Tell me about it.” He sighs.

The rundown he gives you is surface level, getting tied up among the Hutt twins while trying to search for the infamous Commander Coin.

“Things might get hairy soon. I’m heading back to Nevarro to lie low for a while.”

His somber tone says more looms.

“Din…” you mutter cautiously.

He turns to you.

“If you’re in any danger…know that I want to help.” You urge, hoping he’ll tell you more.

“I know.” He nods, yet says nothing more.

Please, your heart begs, please let me stay by your side and fight with you.

But you know fighting against this adamant man is a losing battle. So you sigh and reach down to your belt.

The charm you have on today is your favorite, and you hand it to him.

“Remember to bring it back to me.” You can’t even look at him because your eyes suddenly feel like they could spill over a river of tears.

His gloved hand cradles your face, letting you fully look at him.

“We’ll be fine.” His voice soothes you steeled with resolution.

You nod, fighting harder against tears.

Then Din leans down. He presses his helmet against your forehead. You close your eyes and lean into the cool beskar.

With a goodbye hug to Grogu, you tell the sweet little soul to keep an eye on his dad.

This time, you don’t have the strength to watch them leave.

You throw yourself into any available mission.

Ward must sense why you’re doing this and in a punishment of sorts, she instead sticks you on filing reports.

“Mando will be fine,” Teva tries to reassure you.

You hope he will be. Days pass and you try to settle into a routine.

But then a group of Anzellans arrive in a panic. You’d been working on your ship when they landed.

Currently they rapidly relay a message to Ward. She patiently tries to listen to all of their worried voices.

“What’s going on?” You ask Wolf.

“Apparently Mando and the kid are stuck on Nal Hutta… don’t think it’s looking good.” He mutters back somber.

Absolute dread is unleashed in you.

You don’t realize you’re moving until you’re standing right before the colonel.

“Let me join the rescue strike.” You urge.

Ward turns to you, then sighs, even says your name a bit heartbroken. That says enough.

“Are we really considering not going?!” Your voice raises, shocked and upset.

“It’s not that simple.” Ward, calm and composed, tries to clarify, but just hearing that line feels like an alarm goes off in your head.

“What isn’t simple?! He’s one of us. We have to rescue them.” You argue back harder.

“There are protocols. And with the intel and alliance we’ve tried establishing with the Hutts we can’t just strike in, ranger.” Ward sharply explains, putting you in your place.

Anger burns through your veins.

“She’s right, colonel…” Teva suddenly speaks up.

“Mando is one of us.” He agrees with you.

More Delphi officers stand up.

Before Ward can even say anything, you turn on your heels and head out of the hanger zipping up your flight suit.

You don’t care if this will get you in trouble, hell even dishonorably discharged. Din needs you. Grogu needs you.

Then you hear a few others arrive in the hangar.

Ward calls out your name. This is it.

Turning towards her, you ready yourself to accept whatever punishment. Yet, you instead see your commander in her flight suit as well. Your eyes can’t help but widen.

She sighs yet gives you a half grin, understanding.

“I should sit you out on this mission.”

“I know. I’ve accepted that I’ll be doing reports for the rest of the year.” You sleepily shrug.

Her smirks grows bigger.

“Try two years,” she says heading to her ship.

You’ll happily accept that too.

The twin’s palace is heavily guarded, and it’s a true dogfight on Nal Hutta.

Then Din’s voice electrifies the coms as he reports in with Colonel Ward. Absolute relief blooms in your chest, and you feel like crying. He’s alive.

Now you fly harder and faster than you ever have. It reminds you of Endor. That final battle all you thought of was the hope right before your eyes, knowing something precious was so close and needed to be defended.

That’s what this feels like.

You manage to knock out a few droid ships, but the main focus is on the palace.

Yet Din remains inside.

And Ward gives the command to light the place up.

“Get out of there. Please.” You whisper out loud or maybe to the force itself.

Then, the stronghold goes under flames.

You and the others circle around, flying out of the line of fire from the explosion. Yet your stomach stays in knots.

“Anyone got eyes on Mando?” Wolf asks before you can.

Out from the smoke, there among the water below, you spot them. Your boys are alive.

A watery relieved laugh escapes you as you blink away the tears.

“Go pick up the trash, Zeb.” Ward jokes, and you can’t even be mad.

Knowing they’re safe is all that matters.

Vibrating with so much emotion, you land besides Zeb’s ship hoping to see them.

But Ward of course arrives first.

You instead idle by your x-wing, pretending to be checking your engines. Ward tells him the truth about the Hutts that even you didn’t know. So that’s why she finally agreed to go.

“And… we don’t leave our own behind.” Her words resound within you.

Din deflects, saying how he’s not with the New Republic.

“Sure you aren’t Mando, sure you aren’t.” She says.

“If you aren't one of us… Who do you think helped convince us to come?”

Ward’s insinuating tone shoots a shock up your spine.

You keep your gaze on your ship, refusing to even look their way. Focusing on mindlessly keeping busy, you don’t notice footsteps approaching until you move out from under the wing. There Din stands waiting.

He’s here.

Grogu cries gleefully, and your attention turns to him. You eagerly accept him into your arms hugging him tight.

“I’m so proud of you. You must have been so brave, my little ranger.” You even press a kiss to his fuzzy head, addressing him as the courageous officer he is.

The baby coos back fond, embracing you with his sweet but sturdy little arms.

While he’s still in your hold, your eyes open to find Din.

He stares unwavering at you, and your eyes water again.

“Welcome back,” you croak out.

Din nods, then, he raises up your favorite charm you gave him.

“Had to bring this back.”

With a watery laugh, you shake your head.

“Your dad is so silly,” you half whisper to Grogu who giggles, agreeing.

A sigh leaves Din but, in a few steps, he walks towards you.

Then you and Grogu are gathered into his embrace. You immediately wrap one of your arms around Din.

“Thank you… for coming for us.” Din’s voice is gentle, grateful.

“Always.” You answer back with a resounding truth.

Your job is tied here, and you might fly for the sake of the New Republic. But you believe your true wings, your heart’s flight navigation, now will always include a path for and to Din Djarin.

Currently he chats with Rotta, from what you heard might be staying here too.

Once you head into the mess hall Ward calls your name. With a patient knowing grin, she holds out the datapad with the promise of the paperwork you knew would be waiting for you.

Logging in with your chain link, a new message suddenly chimes onto the monitor from an unknown contact.

It contains a coordinates location to Nevarro along with a single message attached.

Stop by whenever, we’ll be waiting

Quickly, you start the reports happily accepting your punishment.

You’ve always been an outdoorsy person. Girl scout as a child, camp counselor in your teens, camp manager in your twenties— and not to mention the plenty of solo camping trips you’ve taken and the amount of hikes you’ve trekked.

Then there’s your full time job as wildlife biology professor in New York.

Being out in nature is the only time you ever feel true, serene peace. Who would have thought? It keeps you healthy and entertained. Most of the hobbies you indulge in and skills you have revolve around being outdoors.

Becoming a park ranger had never been part of your plans, per se, but after a really messy engagement that ended with the wedding being postponed indefinitely and then being overwhelmed by your friends and family afterwards; you needed an out.

The offer to become a ranger at a national park in California came at the perfect time. You didn’t hesitate to sign on to the job, especially since it was being offered to you by a long-time close friend you had met online through a Hiking Tips & More! Facebook group.

So you packed as much as you needed and booked your flight from upstate New York to California.

You’d be stationed there for the summer and the pay was decent. Whatever, you weren’t too hung up on that detail since you are financially stable enough to take the pay cut for the next few months.

After going through the motions of getting registered and settling in at the local lodge themed motel, you use an afternoon to just take everything in. You’ve never had the pleasure to visit any of the parks on the west coast so this experience is extra exciting for you.

You’re already prepared yourself to do some birdwatching and to brush up on your botany knowledge.

Before you are assigned a location and station, it’s required for you to attend an orientation of sorts for the new cohort of rangers working for the summer.

The intent is to go over routines and day-to-day tasks. Most of the job you already know from when you got your certification before going to graduate school. You thought you would have the time to become a ranger then, but life had humbled you quickly so the certification was never put to use.

Until now.

It’s around 7 in the morning when you arrive to the meeting room at the national park. Others linger around but you make a beeline towards the coffee machine; absolutely needing your caffeine fix for the morning.

Definitely don’t forget to bring that with you. You went quite feral without caffeine— god forbid any man, or bear, come across you before you’ve had your cup of coffee.

You fix the drink as you always take it, realizing you’ve just emptied what was left in the glass container.

Not wanting to be the asshole that left everyone else with no coffee, you rummage through the cupboards until you find the container with the grounds and you brew more, doing your good deed for the day.

Blowing against the mug before bringing it up to your lips, you savor the taste and let out a content hum.

“Was that the last of it?”

Your attention immediately flits up at the sound of the deep, southern drawl that’s like honey to your ears.

Before you stands a unit of a man: tall, broad— rugged. He’s obviously older, the salt and pepper colors of his hair and beard complimenting both smile lines and frown wrinkles on his face.

Oh, he’s handsome as hell.

“U-Uh no— yes… Well I just put more in. Should be ready soon.” You flash him a small smile, mentally kicking yourself for stuttering like a fool. Suddenly, you’re aware of how unflattering the park ranger uniform looks on you.

He can’t say the same, clearly, since the collared shirt hugs him snugly across his triceps and shoulders, stretching across the broadness of his chest. There’s a few pins attached to his front, and that’s when you catch the golden glint of his metallic name tag.

J. Miller

He just nods in response, his gaze fixated on you, “I recognize most people here.… but not you. This your first rodeo as a ranger?”

Now it’s your turn to nod, “Yes, but not my first rodeo in the field. I got my certification a few years back but never got the chance to use it.”

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the smell of the fresh brewing coffee hitting your senses. “Ah— I see. Figured you were new. I woulda definitely remembered a pretty face like yours.”

This has you blushing, hard, and biting down softly on your bottom lip. You can’t remember the last time someone had so openly flirted with you like this.

Your asshole of an ex-fiance quit complimenting you shortly after getting engaged. Come to think of it, most of the problems and red flags started happening after you got the ring on your finger.

Ugh, focus! You scold yourself. You have an attractive, out of your league man flirting with you and you’re here thinking of your shitty ex.

“Thank you. I think I would have remembered a face like mine, too.” You’ve never been good at receiving compliments, so you do what you do best and use humor to navigate the conversation.

He chuckles and immediately you’re wanting to hear more of that sound. It’s deep yet comforting and now you’re wondering if you’re being a weirdo for being attracted to a man’s laugh (amongst other things) like this.

You make small talk standing by the coffee machine as more people begin to trickle in. He tells you his name is Joel and that he’s been a park ranger for twenty years and a chief ranger for ten. He has a daughter named Sarah who’s in college further down in the state and you can tell just how much he cares about her by the way he dotes on her.

No mention of a wife or girlfriend, though. You don’t see a band on his finger… there’s no way this man is just walking around single like this.

In return, you tell him your name and some of your background (sans the trainwreck engagement) and he’s fascinated by the fact that you’re a professor.

His interest in you has butterflies fluttering in your stomach and it doesn’t help that he’s got the sexiest little Texan accent you’ve ever heard. Each word sending you deeper and deeper into this crush that has blossomed seemingly out of nowhere for a man you’ve just met.

Amidst the conversation that flows naturally between the two of you, there’s an aura of flirtation and attraction that the both of you seem to be reciprocating. Or at least you are. Hopefully you’re not reading this wrong.

Please don’t let me be reading this wrong.

It’s not until you both have finished your coffee that everyone arrives and he has to excuse himself.

Apparently he’s leading the orientation.

The entire time he’s giving his presentations and demonstrating safety procedures, you can’t help but ogle him.

He fits this career so well with how carries himself. Confident, steadfast, knowledgeable, fucking sexy. You just want to run your fingers through his curly, thick hair and tug on it while you ride the daylights out of him.

This sudden intrusive thought has you clenching your thighs together and that’s enough to get your focus back on the meeting and not how you want him to demolish you.

His forearm flexes, the veins protruding, as he demonstrates how to tie a tight and secure knot; his fingers moving dexterously against the rope.

Damn your dry spell and this attractive ass man.

The orientation concludes with everyone getting their assigned areas and tasks. Your folder is labeled 125.

“We’re on a two week on two week off schedule. You’ll spend two weeks manning your station before there’s a shift change. Daily tasks will be given during mornin’ check-ins along with any other pivotal information. Each camp has a binder with any additional information you will need alongside a long list of phone numbers and radio codes in case somethin’ goes awry. First shift report back here at 6 sharp tomorrow mornin’. Any further questions can be directed towards me or my partner Tommy.”

“Brother,” Tommy, who has been leaning against the wall this entire time, interjects with a playful grin and this has your brows quirking in both amusement and intrigue. He works with his younger brother. How cute.

“Yeah, yeah. That too.” Though it’s gruff, you can clearly pick up the lighthearted tone in Joel’s reply.

You want to stick around and talk with him some more, but you don’t want to come off as annoying so the second you’re all dismissed— you’re the first to be out of the room.

It’s not till you’re further down the hall that you hear your name being called out and turn to see Joel lightly jogging to catch up.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” You ask teasingly and you catch the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Not at all. Just wanted to make sure you were okay with your assignment.” You hadn’t even looked at the folder that he had passed to you during the meeting. It had all the information about your post.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You open the file and see a small map with your area circled in red sharpie. You see the surnames of all the other park rangers littered about on the page; and then you see Miller written by the fire lookout closest to yours.

“I gave you a smaller area since it’s your first time out here and all,” He scratches at his jaw, as if he’s almost nervous to be telling you this, “Once you get the hang of it, which ‘m sure will be in no time, I’ll put ya somewhere more… challengin’.”

It’s sweet, this gesture of his. Easing you into the job. If it had been anyone else, you would have defended your skillset and wit and demanded to be put somewhere ‘challenging’, but since it’s Joel you don’t think twice about it.

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks for this.” You smile up at him as you close the folder and he matches the expression, making him look boyish as his sweet brown eyes catch yours.

“No problem, darlin’. See you tomorrow mornin’?”

Or we can go back to my motel room, get to know each other a little bit better?

“See you tomorrow morning.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

You finish packing the rest of your things before heading out for your first shift on the job.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straighten out your uniform and fix your neatly braided hair before exiting the stuffy motel room.

You wouldn’t be so hung up on your appearance had it not been for the attractive DILF that’s suddenly overtaken every inch of your mind.

You haven’t stopped thinking about him since meeting him yesterday. He seems so sweet and kind; but also with a ruggedness that makes you wonder what kind of lover he is.

Is he a giver or does he only focus on getting himself off? Does he bite and leave marks? Does he prefer his women being bent over or on top of him?

Yeah, you definitely need to go outside and touch some grass.

This entire experience feels like a new beginning, a chance to reinvent yourself before flying back home and starting the new semester.

Your cab takes longer than expected to arrive at the motel, which in turn makes you late to showing up at the meeting spot.

When you burst through the doors, breathing heavily, your heart sinks at the sight of an empty room and you berate yourself for not allotting extra time for mishaps.

“Thought you got cold feet.”

You jump in your spot and whip around to face the handsome jump scare.

Joel is leaning against the counter on the back wall, arms crossed over his chest making the fabric of his button up shirt stretch obscenely over his toned upper body.

“Can’t be too jumpy out in the woods, darlin’. ‘S how you get got.”

“Fuck— sorry. My cab ran late, which isn’t an excuse for my tardiness but—”

He chuckles with a shake of his head and that has the rest of your words hitching in your throat.

“Relax, s’okay. All is right. Everyone else is already situated out there. Figured I’d hang back in case you showed. Didn’t really think you’d bail. Don’t seem like the type.”

You’re relieved, to say the least, that he’s taking mercy on you despite not liking the fact that he has to.

You’re a professional, running late is out of character for you. Even if it was due to a circumstance you couldn’t control.

You let your shoulders drop, pairing the action with a soft sigh. “Thank you. It won’t happen again. I’m more than ready to start the day.”

He studies you for a brief moment with an unreadable expression and it makes you self conscious. Is there something on my face? Is my hair sticking out somewhere?

“Okay. C’mon, let me drive you to your station.” He pushes himself off the counter and you follow him out of the cabin-styled building and to his ranger truck that has the park’s name printed on it in bold letters.

“Nice ride.” You say as you slide into the cab of the truck, setting your large backpack in the back seat.

He mutters out a brief thanks before starting the vehicle and pulling out into the rocky terrain of the park.

You can’t help the look of awe on your face as you stick your head out of the rolled down window to take in the view.

The picturesque peak of the mountain ranges surrounded by lush greenery is breathtaking and it only makes you more excited to have some alone time in the midst of it all.

What you don’t see, though, is the way Joel keeps stealing glances at you. He thinks you’re so beautiful, especially with how entranced you are by the natural setting.

You finally make it to the small area of your camp and he helps you settle in to the small structure that’ll be your home for the next two weeks.

It consists of a twin bed, bedside table, a small desk with your equipment on it and a lamp.

Very home-y. You really only got the place for the view.

“Thanks for the ride… and for waiting for me back there.” You tell him, adjusting the backpack strap against your shoulder.

“S’not a problem at all. I’m posted up a few miles north so that makes us neighbors.”

“Well, if I need some sugar or something— I’ll make sure to stop by.” You tease and this gets a chuckle out of him which has your heart soaring.

“Alright, sugar, you radio me or anyone else if you need anythin’’.”

“I will.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

The first week goes by like a breeze. You spend most of your days hiking around your assigned area to make sure everything is as normal as it can be out here.

You tend to your daily tasks, listening along to your audiobooks. Taking in the scenery. You even find the time to explore some of the various native flowers and plants that bloom here.

It’s peaceful and exactly what you needed.

You come to discover that while you were already attracted to the sound of Joel’s deep, honeyed southern voice; you were even more attracted to it over the distortion of the radio.

Every morning you’re greeted by it during task assignments and when he gives the weather forecast for the day.

Every afternoon you hear it when he checks-in through the walkie talkie.

Every night you hear it when he does roll call to make sure everyone is alright and present.

Those are the only times you’re able to really communicate with him. You’re both so busy dealing with the job during the day then bone tired by night to really make anything out of the attraction that lingers.

And boy does it linger. You’ve never been this worked up over a man… like ever. Even with your ex the infatuation had never been this intense.

The sex with him was fine. Normal. Vanilla. The lovers you had before him were all a variation of the same thing.

So the bar was in hell— literally. That’s probably why you’re so obsessed with wanting Joel Miller to fucking destroy you.

You’re on the way back to your camp for the day when you come across a clearing, four men camping out of various tents.

“Park ranger here. Just making my rounds. Are you guys well?”

You smile politely at them, watching as they eye you up and down then suddenly— you’re feeling uncomfortable in your own skin.

“Better now. You out here all alone, sweetheart?”

You clock the pervy tone in his voice immediately, clenching your jaw but trying to keep an aura of professionalism.

You’re required to carry a gun and a taser, for obvious reasons, but not once did you ever think you would actually have to use it.

Yet with the way these men are staring at you like you’re a piece of meat— you’re really resisting the urge to let your hand hover over the weapon.

“Heading back to my partner now. You guys have a good night.” You lie with a forced smile that pains your lips as you turn from them, wanting to put as much distance between you and them as you can.

No way are you revealing that you are, in fact, alone with the nearest help being miles away.

“Oh c’mon, baby, stay a while.” A different man calls out and you can hear them following after you.

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of them actually following you all the way back to your camp. Your location is marked on most of the maps that are posted around the area, in case of emergencies, but now you’re hyperaware that they could just go look for it and find you in no time.

Swallowing thickly, you trek forward and continue to ignore their catcalls until suddenly one of them has got a tight hold on your forearm and yanks you back against his chest.

You let out a squeal of surprise mixed with fear. Your only saving grace right now is your giant backpack since it keeps you from being flush against him.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggle against his iron grip, trying to use your free hand to reach for your weapon but he twists the arm he does have in his hold, and it renders you immobile.

You wince at the pain, adrenaline coursing through you as you hear his three other friends join and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what demise you’re about to meet.

You’re so fucking afraid so you channel that fear to kickstart your flight or fight— choosing both as you lift your foot then slam it down harshly against your captors foot.

Thank god for these heavy ass hiking boots.

The hit does enough to loosen his grip on you just enough for you to shimmy out; using the fleeting seconds you have to knee him in the balls before you take off running.

You hear them screaming profanities at you, calling you a “cunt” “bitch” “whore” amongst many other things. They’re relentless as you hear twigs snapping and leaves crushing beneath their running footsteps.

Your backpack is hindering you at this point so you unbuckle the straps that run across your chest and discard of it quickly, changing course to try and throw them off your trail.

You don’t know how long you run or where you run to, now completely lost as the last hint of sunlight disappears behind the mountains.

You don’t hear anyone chasing after you anymore but you’re not stupid enough to stop and check, so you do the next best thing which is to change your route again before finding solace behind a Giant sequoia tree.

Taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you slowly peek around the hefty trunk to see if they were still chasing after you.

They’re not.

Allowing yourself to feel relief, you lean back against the tree and close your eyes to keep the tears away.

Don’t cry— not now. You’re not completely out of the woods yet… ha!

You shake your head at your conscience, hands shaking as they reach for your walkie talkie to seek the help of the only man you want around you right now.

“Call to 121 from 125. Over.”

“121 to 125 on frequency 9. Over.”

You switch frequencies and immediately break procedure once you know it’s just you and Joel on the call.

“J-Joel? Do you copy? Over.”

Immediately he responds, worry evident in his voice.

“What’s goin’ on? Are you okay? Over.”

You take a second to calm down so you can concisely explain your situation.

“I was chased through the forest by a group of campers. I got disoriented, lost my bag, and now I-I’m lost and it’s so dark out. I need you to come find me. Or lead me to you… Over.”

“What do you see around you? Any distinctive characteristics? A trail? Over.”

He’s on high alert, getting methodical and procedural to suppress the rage he feels as your voice garbles through his walkie talkie.

You look around in desperation, flashlight in hand as you try to find anything that’ll pinpoint your location.

Nothing.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you weigh your options. You can walk around until you find something useful or stay put and wait who knows how long for Joel or those band of heathens to get to you.

He urgently calls your name through the walkie talkie when you don’t respond in a timely manner and you quickly snap out of your thoughts.

“N-No. Nothing. I’m going to keep walking until I find something. Over.”

“No. You have to stay put. ‘S dangerous out here at night. I’ll come to you. Over.”

“It’s dangerous during the day, too. I’m going. I’ll reach out to you when I find something… over and out.”

You don’t give him a chance to respond as you turn your walkie off, the batteries were already running low earlier in the day so you have to limit your use on it before you’re left stranded and walkie talkie-less.

There were extra batteries in your backpack… fuck men and their ability to ruin everything.

You walk through the pitch black forest with your chin held high, faking bravery to avoid succumbing to the fear that’s rattling in your bones.

The mosquitos bite at you, insects chirping about, and in the distance you can hear a coyote howl.

If you don’t survive tonight because of men then you won’t survive because of mother nature.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, your exhaustion slowly catching up to you.

However, your ears perk at a low rumbling noise and your flashlight snaps in the direction in which you think you hear it coming from, your feet carrying you towards the source.

You damn near burst out in tears of joy once you see the large and beautiful waterfall that flows into the river below.

You radio Joel again, skipping the pleasantries and telling him your location.

You plop down on a bench that’s on the trail, overlooking the astounding scenery and finally you let out a sigh of actual relief. What a way to end your first official week as a park ranger.

About twenty minutes later you see his large silhouette booking it towards you, taking in your disheveled appearance once he’s close enough.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, sugar, what the hell happened to you?”

He envelops you in his arms and you finally allow yourself to let a few tears seep out of your eyes and they land on the fabric of his shirt.

His smell, his touch are comforting as all hell and you find yourself melting into his embrace.

You feel safe. Protected.

“Just assholes being assholes. I ditched them, though. Barely. I should’ve been smarter and ran—“

He shushes you as you begin to victim blame yourself, pulling you from his chest so he can get a better look at your figure, trying to see if you were physically hurt.

Thank god you weren’t.

“All that matters now s’that you’re safe and with me, alright? ‘M west of here. ‘Bout a twenty minute hike. Can you make it?”

You can’t help but snort, blushing as his concerned expression flashes with frustration.

You’ve hiked through the Appalachian mountains— you can definitely do a mere twenty minutes. But you understand that he’s just trying to gauge how shaken up you are and is genuinely concerned about you.

“Yeah, I can make it.”

He pulls you into his chest once more and you inhale deeply, taking in his natural musk and how deliciously it pairs with the faintness of his cologne.

“Alright— let’s go.”

His chest rumbles as he speaks and you don’t want to leave the confines of his strong hold but you must. You’re ready to get this day over with.

You spill the details of your hectic predicament on the hike back to the fire tower he is stationed at. You can feel the energy radiating from his broad figure, his anger palpable as you describe the four men who had ganged up on you.

His strong jaw clenches, fists balling at his sides but he remains silent until you’ve finished.

You can only imagine what’s going on through his head… you can’t help but find his irritation alluring.

“If I had to ballpark it, I’d say they were roughly ten minutes north from my station. I know exactly where that clearing is.”

“You’ll stay with me tonight ‘n tomorrow after mornin’ announcements we’ll get back to your neck of the woods ‘n I’ll deal with those assholes myself.”

Your teeth sink in to your lower lip, his statement holding so much conviction that it makes your clit throb.

Then it sinks in: you’re staying the night with him… and you’re all sweaty and gross from the long fucking day you’ve had.

This would have been a much more enticing, ripe, and overall erotic scenario had today’s event not transpired.

“Not trying to sound pampered or anything but do you mind if I shower?”

“How on earth does that make you pampered? ‘S a shower, darlin’, and after the day you had today you need one.”

“You saying that I stink?”

“If the shoe fits…”

You elbow him softly as you both chuckle, not even realizing that you’ve gravitated closer towards one another.

Unlike your station, the fire lookout tower is much bigger and it sits higher up on the mountain. Large windows run all around the structure giving whoever’s inside a full 360° view of this side of the forest.

It’s absolutely stunning. You can only imagine how it looks during the day.

You look out from your spot on the wraparound porch as he unlocks the door then beckons you inside.

Yeah, this place is much nicer than yours. Probably because fire lookout shifts are usually more long term than normal park ranger ones.

There’s a small bathroom— with a shower—- in the far corner, along with a bed and some other miscellaneous furnishings.

Maybe you can sell your old place and move up here. The view is much nicer, anyways.

You laugh to yourself, lost in your own inner monologue and Joel looks at you funny.

“You good?”

Embarrassed slightly, you just nod. “Yeah, just a long day.”

His warm eyes convey the message ‘I understand’ and you instinctively smile.

“Sooo about that shower…”

“Uh, yeah, help yourself. Everythin’ you need should be in there. We get hot water up here so that shouldn’t be an issue. Holler if you need anythin’. Imma try ‘n find you somethin’ to wear.”

You thank him softly, trying not to look too desperate for a hot shower as you cross the room and close the bathroom door behind you.

Letting the shower run, you begin to strip from your clothes, cringing at how grossly and sticky you feel from sweating your ass off all day.

You feel all the tension leaving your body as you step beneath the shower head and the hot droplets of water hit your skin.

You swear this is the best shower you’ve ever taken. Why? Because you peeped Joel’s toiletries in there and decided to use his body wash and shampoo so now you smell like him.

There’s three rhythmic knocks at the door followed by his deep voice.

“Found some clothes. Can I come in ‘n put ‘em by the sink?”

You swallow thickly. Despite there being a shower curtain separating the two of you, you feel nervous about him coming in while you’re naked.

Not because of him but because of you. He’s got you all riled up without even knowing it.

“Or I can leave ‘em out here?”

“It’s fine, Joel, you can come in.”

There’s a hesitant pause before you hear the door opening, then his large shadow passing through and setting the small pile of clothes by the sink.

His eyes fall to the floor where you’ve left your heap of dirty clothes, seeing the feminine printing of your pink underwear peeking from below the khaki material of the shorts you’d been wearing. The matching bra not too far away.

He’s fucked— unbelievably fucked.

Joel hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you first met. Your smile unlike anything he’s ever seen before, your eyes a shade that makes him want to get lost in them forever, your voice a tune he wants stuck in his head all the time.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and that’s quite the statement considering he’s surrounded by breathtaking sights all the time.

He’s crushing hard despite only barely knowing you for a week.

Then there’s that underlying, primal tension that simmers when you get too close. So it doesn’t help that’s he’s getting an eyeful of your discarded garments then is aware that you’re fully naked, smelling like him, on the other side of the shower curtain.

He stands in front of the shower, half tempted to just yank back the material and join you, fully clothed, just to fuck you against the wall.

No, he can’t think like this. Especially after the day you’ve had.

So he pushes those salacious thoughts away before leaving without saying a word.

You held your breath during the entirety of that silent and brief moment there.

You could feel his hesitation, really, and mentally yelled at him to give in to the temptation and have his way with you right here in the shower.

But he doesn’t hear you, obviously, and you begrudgingly finish your shower after he leaves.

You re-enter the main room dressed in an oversized national park tee and a pair of his boxers.

His cock stirs at the sight of you in his clothes and the smell of him on your skin. He has to look away before you catch him staring and label him as a creep.

“S’not much but I made you somethin’ to eat.” He’s at the kitchenette, all the fixings to make a grilled cheese strewn about the tiny area as he holds up a paper plate with your dinner on it.

Your stomach grumbles on cue, as if remembering that you haven’t eaten since lunch.

And just like that shower— the grilled cheese is the best grilled cheese you’ve ever eaten. Not because you were starving; but because Joel had made it for you out of the kindness of his heart.

Your standards are way too low if you think a man making you a grilled cheese sandwich is the most thoughtful thing in the world.

You two finish up quickly and begin getting situated for bed.

He’s being a gentlemen by giving up his bed to you while he takes refuge in his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the room.

You tried to fight him on it (to no avail) and now you’re both wide awake, laying in silence as the night passes by.

You toss and turn on the small bed, all of the sudden not exhausted like you had been on the walk up here. You can hear Joel shuffling around too and you let out a sigh.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice cuts through the darkness and you shake your head before remembering he can’t see you.

“No. I guess I’m still on go mode after everything.”

“Need anythin’ to help you sleep?”

Yeah, you. Just come over here and fuck me one good time—- I’ll sleep like a fucking rock.

You let out a small whine at the fantasy, your brain pulling cruel tricks on you as images of him tying the rope into a knot flash through your mind… they’re suddenly distorted and now he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost with the same adroitness from before.

“Y’okay sugar?”

Too lost in your wet daydream, you hadn’t realized your prolonged silence. Your thighs rub together, your slickness smearing over your folds.

“Just fine.”

Another pregnant pause before you hear him shuffling then his heavy footsteps nearing the bed.

You sit up straight once he’s near, the moonlight pouring in from the large windows cascading over half of his face and he’s got this look in his eyes that make you want to pounce on him.

“Y’sure there ain’t anythin’ I can do to make you feel better?”

His words drip with sensuality, a double entendre that knocks down the last wall of your self control.

“I can think of a thing or two.”

He stands tall over you, your eyes darkened with lust as you look up at him through your lashes.

It’s a ravishing sight, his fingers come down to brush some of your damp hair from your face and his thumb strokes affectionally against your cheek.

“Like what, baby?”

Oh, where do you start? A kiss, right? But you’re eye level with his hardening bulge and taking him down your throat has wetness pooling at your core.

But you really want to kiss him.

“Kiss me, Joel.”

And he does, bending himself over to hungrily smash his lips against yours.

You don’t hold back the whine at the feeling, your lips moving against each others in pure desperation as your tongue swirls around his before licking into his mouth.

You don’t know where this newfound confidence is coming from but you don’t do anything to deter from it.

You continue to make out, hot and heavy, as he crawls into the too small bed with you, pinning your body beneath his as he holds himself up with his strong forearms on either side of you.

Your hands eagerly run all over where you can reach. Squeezing his triceps, tracing down to his chest then digging your nails into his shoulders.

Joel grunts against your lips, breaking away so the two of you can catch your breath. His forehead falls against yours and you smile up at him.

“What you all smiley for?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re something worth smiling over.”

He chases after your lips again and you’re back to making out like a pair of horny teenagers. Your fingers run along his warm skin beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, feeling how chiseled yet soft he is. You feel some of his chest hair and then you get curious so your hand falls lower until it’s at the band of his sleeping pants.

The hair there is coarser and you salivate at the thought of nuzzling your nose against the patch as you take him fully into your mouth.

Eager to feel his skin pressed up against yours, you tug at the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, pulling back to discard of it quickly.

You inhale sharply at the sight of his bare torso, much more attractive than the mental image you’d been painting since you met.

“You are so hot.”

He exhales through his nose in a silent laugh before he descend on you again, except this time he doesn’t reconnect your lips.

His hands softly caress your body through his clothes, cupping your breasts and kneading them. This has you canting your head back and arching into his touch, moaning sweetly at how good it feels

“S’all you, gorgeous. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

This has you moaning louder as his fingers pinch your pebbled nipples and you begin rocking your hips against nothing just to relieve some of the pressure that’s built up against your core.

“Joel, please…” You whimper out, wanting him to rip these clothes off you and devour you entirely.

He knows what you want and what kind of man would he be to deny such a pretty little thing of feeling good?

He quickly undresses you and you’re so lost in the moment that you aren’t even plagued with self consciousness.

Every touch, every stroke and caress has you feeling flawless as he begins to kiss at your neck, his pouty lips sucking a small mark beneath your jaw and you hiss his name out of excitement.

His lips continue their assault against your neck before trailing down to your chest and between your breasts.

His large, calloused hand runs up and down your sides before he hooks his fingers under the band of his boxers that you’re currently still in, slowly pulling the fabric down.

“Ya sure about this? We can stop if you want to.”

“If you stop right now I might just kill you.”

He smirks against your chest, letting his curved nose run along the swell of your breast before his tongue darts out to kitten lick at your sensitive nipple.

You shudder and then he’s taking the nub into his mouth, sucking on it before letting his tongue flicker over it repeatedly.

“Oh fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

With your lower half now fully exposed, he massages your thighs and you spread them wider to allow him to rest against you comfortably.

He continues to give your tits attention but now he’s paired it with the sensation of him running his thumb against your obscenely wet slit.

Your hips buck up involuntarily at his touch and he pulls back from your chest to look up at you.

“Be patient, sugar, I promise imma make you feel good.” He husks out, just as turned on as you are, as he turns his head towards your other breast to begin lavishing it in the same attention he’d just given its twin.

His thumb dips between your puffy folds, gathering your arousal before he’s swirling it around your needy clit.

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering close as you allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure of this foreplay. You’ve never been with a man who was this attuned to your body; touching you in all the right places and having you make sounds you’ve never made before.

Your nipple falls from his mouth with a soft and wet pop as his lips trail down your abdomen, kissing the smooth skin along the way.

He reaches your mound, those chocolate brown eyes of his staring up at you as his hands find purchase on the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider for him so his broad frame can fit in between them.

“You’re s’wet, darlin’. Bet you taste fuckin’ sweet too.”

Your fingers reach down to run through his hair, lust blooming in your stare.

“Why don’t you find out?”

He groans, lowering his head until you can feel his warm breath against your throbbing cunt. With your fingers still intertwined in his hair, you tug him closer to you— dying to feel his touch where you need him most.

Usually, Joel would drag this out more. Tease you until you’re a puddled mess and begging for him to take you however he pleased.

But he’s drunk on you. His mind clouded with nothing but the vision of your naked body sprawled before him and your sheer eagerness to use him to get off.

It’s hot and exhilarating— which is why he wastes no time in attaching his mouth to your pussy, groaning as your arousal floods his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arches off the bed, grip on his curls tight as he begins to eat you out like a starved and barbaric man.

His tongue flicks across your clit one, two times before exploring the rest of your cunt. The wet noises coming from his ministrations echo through the room and they only spur you further into your orgasm.

“So fuckin’ sweet, baby. I could die a happy man right in between these beautiful legs.”

Joel kisses and nips at your inner thighs before diving back in. His tongue flattens against your cunt as he takes long, broad swipes before his lips wrap around your sensitive nub and he sucks on it. Harshly.

A scream of pleasure rips from your throat at the action, hips moving against his face as his nose bumps against your clit when his tongue moves down to plunge into your tight hole.

He licks the inside of you, allowing you to rock your hips as your stomach tightens with your climax not too far away.

Sensing this, Joel brings two of his thick fingers up to your core, lubing them up with your wetness before he slides them in. The slight burn from the stretch is enough to have you seeing fucking stars.

“Just like that Joel please don’t stop.”

You don’t care if you sound needy or desperate— the whole reason you’re here in California is to experience something new and to forget about how shitty your romantic life has been in the past.

Joel’s doing an amazing job making you forget, his rough fingers pumping in and out of you as his mouth kisses your pussy.

“C’mon baby. I can feel how fuckin’ close ya are, sugar. Let go.”

His fingers curl inside you, brushing up against that spot that has you cursing out a litany of expletives as you clench around him tightly and cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

Your fingernails dig into his scalp, grounding you as your orgasm quite literally has your soul leaving your body.

Your release coats his digits, mouth, and jaw as he eats you out through it. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, twitching at the oversensitivity between your thighs.

“Did so good, baby. Look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone like that.” He mutters against your ear, once again hovering over you before your mouths meet in a passionate kiss.

You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and it’s enough to spark another flame of arousal in your lower belly. Your legs wrap around his waist as his painfully hard erection presses up against your freshly fucked cunt.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel, please.” Your nose brushes up against his, giving him your best fuck me eyes in which he has no choice but to comply.

He shimmies out of his sweat pants, his swollen cock bouncing slightly as it’s exposed and your eyes widen as you look down to see just how fucking big he is.

Oh fuck, is it even going to fit?

“You okay, babygirl?”

You nod, eagerly. “Better than okay. I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”

Your hand comes down to stroke him a few times, loving the way he groans out your name before swatting your hand away.

“Fuck— wait. I don’t have a condom.” He mutters and you quickly pull him down to you before he shifts away from between your legs.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill and haven’t been with anyone in months.”

You have no problem with him going in raw, you actually prefer it since you want to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he pounds into you.

However; if he’s been giving it out to the masses then maybe you should reconsider letting him fuck you… but he doesn’t seem like the type to whore out like that and you pray that’s the case.

“Me either. ‘M clean ‘n I don’t get much action out here.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He laughs, actually laughs in your face and you can’t help but find this moment endearing.

“M’gonna have to instill some patience into ya, sweetheart. You’re a needy little thing.”

There’s a snarky reply on the tip of your tongue but it dies there as he sinks into you, the bulbous head of his cock stretching you out deliciously as your fleshy walls flutter around him.

“Fuck,” You both groan out in unison, relishing in how good it feels to be lost in each other like this.

He hasn’t bottomed out yet and you already feel so full.

“So big, Joel.” You purr out, feeling him twitch inside of you at the praise.

He rocks his hips into yours, finally burying himself fully inside of your cunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He stills, letting you adjust to his ginormous fucking cock, whispering sweet words into your ear as he peppers soft kisses against your neck and shoulder.

“You can move now. Please.” You roll your hips, crying out like a pornstar when the head just barely brushes against your cervix.

“Oh sugar you’re gonna have to keep those noises to yourself if you want to enjoy this for longer than two strokes.”

It makes you giddy knowing you have such an effect on him.

“Can’t help but express how good it feels.”

His hips cant back, cock sliding through your wet walls as he begins to thrust back into you. His movements start slow and patient, but once there’s enough of yours wetness coating the both of you; he readjusts you on the small bed and begins to set a ruthless pace.

“Yesyesyes, oh my god just like that!”

He sits back on his haunches, meaty hands gripping onto your hips for dear life as he fucks you harshly, the rusted springs of the bed crying out at the harsh movements.

“Play with your tits, baby, show me how much you like bein’ fucked like this.”

Not needing to be told twice, your hands come down to do as instructed; twisting and pulling at your nipples which heightens your arousal even more.

They bounce against your hold as he screws you with all the passion in the world. You’re hoping his rough touch against your hips leaves bruises. It’d be a lovely memory of this moment and how it’s not just a dream you’re having.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mingled with your respective sighs and moans of pleasure swirl around in the air, both of your bodies glistening with sweat from your coital activities.

He looks so sexy over you like this, the curls at the base of his neck sticking to his skin with sweat, eyes focused on your folds as your pussy stretches each time he fucks into you, tongue just barely peeking out between his lips in concentration.

You want to feel his lips on you as you cum for the second time tonight, so you reach for him and whine out his name and he happily complies, leaning over and crashing his lips onto yours.

Your tongues intertwine and you nibble on his lower lip as his hands move your legs to rest over his shoulders.

The change of angle is enough to topple you over the edge, and you cum with an aggressive shout of his name followed by your nails raking down the taut skin of his back.

His thrusts don’t relent as he continues to fuck you, and you’re too disoriented and caught up in pure bliss to do anything about it.

“Mmm baby cum inside me. I want you to fill me up and paint my walls with your cum, Joel, pretty please.”

You use that tone again, the porny one that had him almost coming prematurely. You pair it with a tight squeeze of your walls and that does it.

His thrusts stutter and he grunts huskily against your neck as he fills you up with his spend. You play with his hair as he comes down from his own climax, placing kisses against the crown of his head.

You both lay in a comfortable silence, him still buried inside of you while he holds himself up on his forearms.

“That was amazing.” You’re the first one to breach the quiet, “But I’m gonna need you to let my legs down. I don’t want to cramp folded up like a lawn chair like this.”

He chuckles against your sweaty skin, placing a kiss to your jaw before he pulls back and tentatively moves your legs off of his broad shoulders.

Joel pulls his cock out of you and you shudder at the loss, feeling his cum slowly dripping out and down your slit.

“Such a pretty sight.” He mumbles, bringing his fingers down to collect some of your mixed release before pumping it back inside of you.

You whine in protest, “Joel she’s sensitive. She just took one hell of a pounding.”

Though you clench around his fingers, your body contradicts your words.

“S’okay, sugar, I’ll take good care of her.”

You didn’t set out to hire a contractor with the sole purpose of cheating on your husband. It just happened.

In all fairness, he cheated first. Consistently and repeatedly. His ongoing affairs are the reason you’ve found yourself in this situation in the first place. 

In truth, it started long before his infidelity had. You knew marrying him was a mistake the moment he showed just how little he cared for you and your needs, miniscule as they may be, in your opinion. 

You married Jeremy straight out of college, which was your first miscalculation. Guys your age never quite met your standards of what a healthy and loving relationship should be. But you married him anyway because you thought it’s what you had to do.

His job in finance allowed you to buy the house of your dreams, though it definitely needed some work. He promised you – insisted – that he could take care of the repairs himself despite having the financial means to hire someone else to do it and zero experience doing any sort of manual labor. Your career was just as lucrative as his, so between the two of you, there was no reason you couldn’t afford to hire someone to do the job. You lost track of the amount of times you’d fought him on the topic.

Just hire someone! No, I can do it myself! When? I’ll start soon, I swear!

He never started soon. And now, it’s been five years

The home itself was perfect – full of mid-century modern charm, large, bright windows, sleek, low-pitched roof, open floor plan. You loved it. You did not love the orange shag carpet or the lime green cabinets in the kitchen, nor were you a fan of the square teal tiling covering every inch of both bathrooms. But those problems could be easily resolved. 

Your husband, cheating, vile, misogynistic scumbag that he is, was considerably less simple to deal with.

When you discovered his habitual adultery, you were surprised to feel nothing but anger. Not hurt. Not betrayal. Just pure, unbridled anger.  You hadn’t been happy in years, and quite frankly, you weren’t sure you ever were. 

It sparked a thirst for retaliation in you that couldn’t be quenched without taking full and total control of your life again. 

First on your to-do list was filing for a divorce. You had all the proof you needed to back up your claims of his infidelity – texts, phone calls, receipts for motels – Jeremy was not smart, nor was he careful, which made the task incredibly simple. Seeing as he fucked anything with a pulse, you had plenty of evidence to go on. Your lawyer was astonished, either at his stupidity or the sheer amount of women Jeremy has been caught with, you weren’t sure.

Next, you gathered the funds you needed in order to complete the renovation to your home, and luckily, you’d been saving for that specific task. You wanted him to be dumbstruck when he saw the final product, and then you would hand him the divorce papers and tell him to get the hell out.

Finally, you had to hire the right contractors to get the job done. This proved to be your most ardent task yet. 

It took you weeks to find a suitable contractor to take on your project. You vetted and price checked and examined their work with a scrutiny that would impress even the most seasoned detectives. You took recommendations, avoided certain ones entirely, and finally landed on Miller & Miller Construction.

Their website had no flair. No pizazz. No gimmicks. It was plain, clean, and it showcased their work in stunning clarity. You were impressed. The custom cabinetry was just what you’d been looking for, the craftsmanship simple, but precise. Their eye for design, their workmanship, everything spoke to you. You set up a consultation and met with them as soon as you could.

Joel and Tommy were two completely opposing entities that you weren’t quite sure how to read. Tommy did most of the talking, his smile easy and bright, immediately likable, while Joel sat quietly, eyes trained on you, not exactly frowning, but there was no smile to be had on his face either. You liked them, despite how quiet the elder Miller was, grizzled hair, trimmed scruff on his jaw and chin, mustache flecked with grey.

Something about him made you squirm. 

You could tell immediately how their dynamic worked. Tommy was the salesman, the entrepreneur, the frontman. And Joel was the brawn, the craftsman – it showed in the rough edges of his features, his hands, his discerning eyes. Though, you’re sure they both put in their fair share of hard labor.

Tommy had a tablet in front of him, typing out the details of your project. Joel paced the kitchen, measuring, examining, testing. You watched him, admiring the slope of his broad shoulders, the sharp line of his jaw, the faint hints of grey in his beard, rippling muscles hidden under a flannel and a t-shirt.

You blinked out of your haze when Tommy spoke.

“Full-scale kitchen remodel. Custom cabinetry. Updated appliances. Marble counters – that won’t be cheap,” Tommy muttered, but you waved your hand.

“It’s covered. I’ve been saving for years.”

His grin flashed, warm and friendly, “Don’t worry, we won’t drain it all.” He types something else out, muttering, “Hardwood floors, new trim, drywalling, tiling..” he trailed off, listing out everything the two of you had discussed for the entirety of the house. When he was done, he looked across at you with a smile, “I’ll get you an estimate in about a week or so.”

You almost bounced in your seat, giddy with the prospect of your home finally coming to life. You were so ecstatic you almost forgot about the wreckage of your marriage.

“We’ll have our design team set up a consultation, pick materials, colors and such, and then we can get you a fixed timeline. Do you have any questions for us?”

Your eyes darted between him and his stoic older brother before shaking your head, “No, thank you so much.”

In all of your searches and meetings with various contractors in the area, it was the first time you felt seen. They didn’t ask if you needed your husband’s approval. They didn’t ask if he wanted input in the project. Didn’t even ask if you had a husband. But it was clear in your surroundings – the framed picture of you two on your wedding day situated right behind you on the china cabinet, the men’s tennis shoes discarded by the door, the ugly recliner just visible in the living room. Your wedding ring.

Your meeting with their design team went even better – though team was a bit of an overstatement. A woman your age, friendly, bright, excited to help you design your kitchen. Her name was Winona, and she was bubbly without being obnoxious, smart without being a knowitall. And best of all, she took your design ideas and turned them into something spectacular. You loved her.

Jeremy was on a business trip, probably fucking anything that moved, when you signed the final contract to get the house started. And the progress was swift. Efficient for two guys who did all the work themselves. You wondered, briefly, how many projects they normally took on. If they had a crew doing work elsewhere. But it didn’t matter. They were working on your house. 

And Tommy was right. The estimate he provided didn’t drain all you’d saved for the project. You had just enough left over to tuck away for your lawyer fees for your inevitable divorce. Something you were wildly ecstatic about.

Over the course of two weeks, Tommy and Joel arrived at seven am on the dot, ripping apart your house piece by piece, hauling things away, cleaning up the site, and working at a scarily efficient tempo.

By the end of the first week, they’d had the upper level of your home completely bare, painted in the soft, off-white color you’d chosen for the hallways, and the corresponding colors you’d chosen for your office, bedroom, and guest room. You slept on the couch while the upstairs was under construction, and by the end of the second week, you were back in your bedroom, adding the decorative touches you’d been working on while they did the hard labor.

Now that your primary living space was completed, they’d moved on to the rest of the house, spending two weeks alone on the bathrooms, and another full day hauling debris from your house.

You enjoyed seeing them bright and early every day. Tommy’s friendly smile, Joel’s gruff nod. After just under a month, you’d grown accustomed to them. You offered them coffee, brewed in your home office instead of the kitchen, and had bagels and fruit out on the kitchen table for them to enjoy at their leisure. Tommy ate the bagels and fruit. Joel guzzled coffee like it would cure whatever had him looking so grumpy all the time. 

You chatted with Tommy during your lunch breaks, and you were surprised to find that you enjoyed his company. He was charming and friendly and sweet and nothing like his quietly cantankerous brother. You were lucky if you got more than two words out of Joel in a day, but Tommy was quickly becoming the highlight of the entire project.

You learned a lot about him, and incidentally Joel, every time the two of you sat down for lunch. He told you about their construction company, the scale of their work, and how business has really picked up over the last couple of months. He told you about his wife, Maria, and how she was due to give birth any day now. He expressed his excitement, his trepidation, and joy at becoming a father. He’d had a lot of practice with Joel’s daughter, but she was grown now. That surprised you.

You couldn’t picture Joel getting close enough to someone to have a child with them.

While Joel cut lumber on your back patio, you lowered your voice and asked, “He’s married?”

Tommy took a heaping bite of his sandwich and shook his head, “Nah, wife ran off a couple months after Sarah was born. ‘S just him now that Sarah’s gone off to school in Washington.”

You could see Joel through the patio door, hunched over a piece of lumber, marking it with a pencil, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes focused. You hadn’t let yourself examine him very closely, but watching him work, you were struck by how handsome he was. You’d thought so when you first met the pair of them, but you were so focused on getting the project off the ground, you paid little attention.

His green flannel drew tight over his shoulders and biceps, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He tucked the pencil behind his ear as he maneuvered the piece of wood into place and ripped it through the saw. His forearms tensed, fingers deft and precise as he pulled the wood through. His jaw clenched as he examined it, flicked away the sawdust, eyes singularly focused on his task. 

“Easy, sugar,” Tommy drawled, snapping you out of your trance, “He’s a surly old bastard. Don’t wanna get mixed up with that.”

You gaped at him, cheeks coloring, pressing a hand to your chest, “Excuse me? That would be highly inappropriate.” You tried to sound glib, but Tommy was right. You were attracted to Joel. And you were aching for someone to touch you. 

You hadn’t had sex in nearly a year thanks to Jeremy’s exploits. You were not interested in contracting an STD from him, and you were so disgusted by him, the thought of having sex with him turned your stomach.

In the month since the project began, Jeremy had only been home twice, complaining about the mess and the dust and screaming at you for going through with the renovation when he’s perfectly capable of doing it all himself.

“Who’s paying for all of this anyway?” He asked derisively. You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. Joel and Tommy were downstairs, completing the tile work for the guest bathroom, and you knew they could hear every word. “I bet they’re taking you for a ride. Women always get scammed by contractors, are you stupid?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jeremy!” You shouted at him, unable to contain your fury. “Why don’t you just go back to fucking your assistant and keep your shitty opinions to yourself!” You stormed out of the room, slamming the door in his face and retreating to the back patio where Joel was hunched over a wet saw, lining up a tile to cut with with the precision you’d come to expect from him.

He looked up at you, his face neutral, lips set in a firm line, dark eyes assessing.

“Everying alright?”

Stunned by his gentle voice, you’d been unable to speak, simply nodding your head and watching as he nodded back and hunched over the saw again.

Jeremy left, and hadn’t been back since.

Between your frustration at your husband, and Tommy’s comment about Joel, a spark of determination lit inside you like dry shrub in a wild fire. Your previously controlled, distant admiration of Joel transformed into a cloying, desperate urge, and he was the one and only thing on your mind.

But that didn’t mean anything would happen. Not with Joel’s sour disposition and gruff exterior. Talking to Tommy was easy. Talking to Joel – well, there was very little that came out of his mouth, so you weren’t sure it could be qualified as talking. Which is why it was so shocking to you that he’d spoken to you in the first place.

You tried. You really did. Every time he came to your office for a coffee refill, you immediately dropped what you were doing in order to strike up a conversation with him. But he never budged. Just grunted, gave one word answers, sometimes even just stared at you like you hadn’t spoken at all. You wondered why he even bothered coming into your office in the first place. Why not just send Tommy to get his refills if it was such a burden to talk to you?

His silence perturbed you. And you were determined to get his attention. 

You were so desperate, you started wearing less. Instead of yoga pants and a conservative pull over sweater, you switched to shorts and loose t-shirts that hung off your shoulder. It was an easy switch to make as the last remnants of chilly spring weather finally succumbed to the prickling heat of summer.

If Joel noticed your slowly deteriorating selection of moderate clothing, he didn’t let on. And the more he ignored you, the more you wanted him.

Instead of letting him come to you for coffee, you brought the pot out to him, low cut, form fitting, spaghetti strap top displaying your perky breasts. Your shorts barely covered your ass. And he didn’t even blink.

“Coffee?” You ask coquettishly, lifting your chest just a touch. His eyes stayed on yours, steadfast, hard, and determined, as he held his mug out for you to fill.

“Thanks,” he grunted, taking a large gulp. 

“Hot today,” you point out, the beginning of summer making its presence known. “You sure you don’t wanna come inside? Take a break?”

His eyes never strayed. Not once. He shook his head, “Tommy should be back with more lumber any minute.”

It’s the most words you've heard leave his mouth in a consecutive string. It emboldens you.

You nod at the comfortable, air conditioned living room just on the other side of the French doors, “Just a quick break. I can get you something cold to drink. Lemonade? A beer?”

You were pushing, and he wasn’t conceding, turning back to the makeshift work table he had set up under the shade of your patio; three saw horses with a large piece of plywood acting as the tabletop, “‘M alright, darlin’. Why don’t you go cool off?”

Darlin’. That subtle Texas drawl, syrupy smooth, deep and rich like honey. He’d called you Darlin’. 

You shouldn’t devote too much thought to it. Tommy calls you ‘Sugar’ all the time. Even goes as far as ‘Sweetheart’ on some occasions. But it was natural coming from him. Harmless and utterly platonic. He’s a smooth talker and a schmoozer. From Joel, it was so foreign, so out of character, you didn’t know what to do. He’d hardly said two words to you in the past, and now he’s giving you sweet nicknames. Calling you Darlin’ was just as harmless as Tommy calling you Sugar, but it did something to you.

You left him on the patio and shuffled back to your office, dazed. 

You liked it, you realized, skin flushed and heat simmering low in your belly. You wanted him to do it again. Call you by more endearing pet names. Even in your five years of marriage to Jeremy, he’d only ever addressed you by your name or a condescending ‘babe’. You hadn’t realized how pathetically you’d been yearning for more. Something softer, sweeter, kinder. Not until Joel.

But he didn’t seem interested. Should you be more direct? Ask him, outright, if he was attracted to you? Should you strip naked and throw yourself at him? No, no. That was too direct. You had more self respect than that. Maybe. Probably not.

Jeremy had neglected you for so long, your mind was spinning out of control. You want to be wanted. You want to be touched. And you want Joel.

When Tommy returned with the lumber, you watched them unload it from his pickup truck. Joel shed his flannel and was now clad in a white t-shirt that hugged his biceps, his back spotted with sweat and his muscles bulging with the effort of lugging wood into your home. Fuck, you couldn’t stand it.

You have to do something about this ache between your legs. The sudden, unquenchable thirst you feel for him. If skimpy outfits and shy invitations to join you for coffee don’t do it, you know what will. And it’s just about as close to stripping naked as you could get.

When Joel arrives the next day, without Tommy, you greet him with a smile, a fresh pot of coffee, and a question in your gaze that asks where his brother is.

“Wife went into labor late last night. I’ll be finishin’ up without him,” he grunts, though without any of the typical irritability that comes with the need to socialize. Maybe the birth of his nephew had softened him.

You’re a little sad you won’t get to see Tommy, but thrilled to have Joel all to yourself.

As you step aside to let him in, you don’t miss the way his eyes flit down your bare legs. You hadn’t bothered getting dressed, still clad in your oversized sleep shirt that barely hangs down past your ass. 

As he sets about getting his bearings from where he left off the previous day, you pour him a cup of coffee and toast and butter a bagel for him, knowing he doesn’t much care for the indulgence of cream cheese or jelly. He thanks you with a grunt and shuffles his way onto the patio to get started. Your eyes linger on the way his navy t-shirt stretches across his broad, muscular back.

After you change into a revealing tank top and the shortest shorts you own, you coop yourself up in your office to get some work done. But when you’re done for the day, you can’t help yourself. You check in on him, peering through the back doors and asking if he wants something to eat. You expect him to decline, but when he graciously accepts, you bounce giddily to the kitchen to make him a sandwich. 

Today is different. You can feel it. 

When you present him with the sandwich, he dusts his hands on his jeans and nods at you in thanks, but doesn’t say anything. He only watches you, eyes flitting to your cleavage so quickly, you think you imagine it. But then he looks you dead in the eyes as he takes a bite of the sandwich and chews it slowly.

Something in you snaps and your blood heats, making your skin flush. You rush away from him, and as you retreat inside, you swear you hear him chuckle.

With your heart racing and an idea bubbling to life in your mind, you race upstairs and start digging through your closet until you find exactly what you’re searching for. If he wants to tease you, you’re going to tease him right back.

You pull on a white and blue bikini with strings that tie at the hips, around the base of your neck, and at the middle of your back. After applying a nude gloss to your lips and dabbing a light amount of makeup across your cheeks, you pull on a black sheer coverup, that flows down past your ankles, leaving it open. It does little to hide your scantily clad body as you tiptoe back downstairs with a book and a bottle of tanning oil in your grip.

You walk past the back door as deliberately as you can, making sure to catch his attention as you carefully maneuver your way through your deconstructed kitchen to fill a glass with ice water and lemon slices. With your sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose, you finally step onto the patio, your tits on display, legs bare and gleaming, and smile coy and searching.

”I’m going to lay out by the pool for a bit. If you get hungry or thirsty, help yourself to anything you like,” you tell him, feigning disinterest. Acting like you don’t see the way his throat bobs and his eyes greedily drink you in. He doesn’t say anything to you as you take the three short steps down to your yard and traipse over to your pool.

The early summer sun is blazing hot, and sweat prickles your skin the moment you lay out on your teakwood lounger, the white cushion comfortable but warm from the heat of the day. Your eyes dart toward Joel to make sure he’s watching, and you slowly slip out of your coverup, intentionally dropping it and bending at the waist to pluck it off the stone pavers surrounding your pool.

It feels almost comically pornographic to resort to this type of temptation, but with the blatant way he watches you, it’s worth it.

You lean back on the lounger, snatching up your book and flipping to the page you’d left off on. It’s some tawdry romance novel with a shirtless cowboy on the front. Painfully transparent with little to no plot, but you’re not reading it for the plot, anyway.

Your skin prickles with awareness, your eyes darting toward Joel every few minutes to catch him watching you for the briefest moment before he returns to the meticulous work of assembling your cabinetry. 

When your ice water is half gone and too warm to enjoy, you decide to take a brief dip into the pool. You stand, adjusting your bottoms, pulling them up just a touch, before wading slowly into the rippling water. The effect is instant, the water immediately cooling you and making goosebumps pebble across your skin, tightening your nipples. 

You’re careful not to get your hair wet, brushing it aside as you drift further in, then back toward the shallow end. A quick glance in his direction makes you frown. His back is to you, broad shoulders leaned over his plywood table. 

The power saw buzzes to life, then quiets. He blows away the sawdust, t-shirt damp with sweat. Biceps straining as he joins two pieces of wood together, fastening them with a clamp. You’re enraptured by his focus. Envious of your very own cabinets and wishing he’d look at you with such deliberate intent and concentration. House be damned.

When you can tell he’s about to turn in your direction, you climb out of the pool, allowing the water to trickle off your frame and slick down your body. You run a hand down your stomach, briefly toying with the pink jewel at your naval, then adjust your bottoms again as you strut back to the lounger.

Under the dark, impenetrable lenses of your sunglasses, your eyes dart to him. He’s staring, his throat bobbing, hands tight around the clamps he’s using to fasten the cabinets together. 

You hide your smile, laying out on your towel to let the sun soak up the water from your skin. You feel his eyes on you more prominently than the moisture coating your body. With a sly smile, you push your sunglasses down your nose to look at him.

“Hey, Joel?” Voice dripping with honey and mischief.

“Yeah, darlin’?” He calls back, still watching. Not even bothering to pretend anymore. And he calls you that name again. Darlin’. Your core clenches.

Biting your lip, you give him a coquettish look that’s all sin and wicked intention, “Will you help me put on some sunscreen?”

Straight out of a porno. The oldest trick in the book. Painfully, achingly transparent. You’re inviting him to touch you. And even from afar, you can see his resolve snap. Eyes darkening, posture going rigid.

“You sure about that?” He asks, voice tight and rough.

You nod, biting your lip for good measure, “Uh huh.”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe what he’s about to do, and a devilish smile spreads across your face, triumphant. Joel dusts his hands off on his jeans, trudges down the patio steps, and prowls over to your lounger. His tall, broad frame eclipses the sun, casting shade over you. You grin and roll onto your stomach, acutely aware of the way your ass looks in your tiny bikini.

“Sunscreen, there,” you point to the bottle of tanning lotion on the teakwood table next to you. It’s more of an oil with UV protection, but the idea is the same: you want him to rub it all over your body, and then fuck you senseless.

The scent of pine and leather wraps around you as he sits on the edge of the lounger, careful not to touch you. He grabs the oil and huffs a laugh, “This ain’t sunscreen.”

“It has UV protection!” You argue.

“This is nothin’ more than body oil.”

“Still. Please?” You ask, looking back at him and resting your cheek on your arms. He shakes his head, cheeks dimpling against the smile he’s trying to fight off.

“Ain’t payin’ me to lather you up, honey,” he says under his breath, flicking the cap of the oil open and drizzling it along your back.

“That’s okay. You need a break.”

He hums, setting the bottle aside. Your entire body tingles with anticipation, waiting for his skin on yours. You wait and wait, feeling the oil drip along your spine, your shoulders. Then, finally, the coarse surface of his work roughed hand meets your skin and you shiver.

“S’it okay if I untie this?” He asks, voice so low, so smooth, you’re sure you imagined it. But then you feel his fingers playing with the ties at your neck and you nod, frantically, too eager. “Of course it is.”

You almost giggle. He knows what you’re doing and he’s still placating you. You wiggle a little when he unties the neck, then the back, leaving you bare from the waist up. The moment his hands are back on you, you gasp. Pressure firm, but gentle. Sure and thorough as he spreads the oil around your skin. Brushing your hair aside, he massages the oil into your neck. You peek at him to see that concentrated look on his face. Like tearing him away from his task would undo him.

Then, both of his palms press into your back, eliciting a moan straight from your lips. You clamp your mouth shut, but the pressure is so divine, you almost do it again. 

“Feels okay?” He mutters, hands skimming down your body, your waist, your lower back, and then up again. His fingers graze the sides of your breasts and you nod again. God, if he stopped now, you think you’d cry.

Every pass of his hands turns you to jelly, and soon, he moves down to your legs, first starting at your ankles, then up your calves, careful not to go much further than the bend in your knee. You’re soaked. Skin humming with the effects of his firm, soothing touch, heated by the sun, and glowing faintly with the sheen of oil.

When you feel his hand inch up the inside of your thigh, you suck in a breath.

”Relax,” he coaxes, moving from the top of your thigh down to your knee and back up again. Over and over and over, pressing a little firmer on the way up, and stopping just short of the gusset of your skimpy bikini. “You told me to help myself to anything I liked.”

You did say that. And then you called him over to you to touch you freely. You grin, peeking up at him, cheek resting against your arms, “And you like me?”

His cheeks dimple, his smile so soft, so sexy, you almost say to hell with your little ruse. Something between a grunt and a laugh escapes him, “Darlin’, you got no idea.”

Darlin’. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it. You feel yourself grow damp as he moves his hands to your other thigh, repeating the same, torturous ministrations. But this time, he goes so much higher, you think he’s going to graze the covered, soaked apex of your desperately neglected pussy. He never does. Massages right below it. There’s no reason to put oil there, but he does it anyway. His thumbs get closer, massaging circles into your skin, very nearly grazing you, teasing, refusing to give you what you want.

When his hands leave you, you almost cry out in protest, but then he’s nudging your hip, “Turn over for me, sweetheart.”

As you lift up to turn, you toss your bikini top aside, having no desire to feign modesty any longer. He knows it, and you know it. You want him to fuck you.

His eyes spark with interest as they land on your breasts, perky and waiting, nipples tight from your dip in the pool. You lie back, making yourself comfortable as he stares. 

He chuckles, deep and smooth, “Not bein’ shy no more, are you?”

You grin in response as he grabs the oil and drizzles it over your chest, your stomach, and along your arms. He starts at your hands, making sure you’re fully covered, his large ones engulfing them completely in his grasp. The texture of his fingers is rough, but you like it as he moves his way up your wrists, your forearms, and then toward your shoulders, massaging along the way.

“Mm, Joel,” you sigh, his hands rubbing the oil into you completely before moving on. He presses his thumbs into your shoulders, then your collar bones, then the tops of your breasts. He still doesn’t touch you there, but then one hand wraps around your throat, resting, thumbing your pulse point where it hammers rapidly against your skin.

“Lookin’ so pretty,” he says quietly, keeping one hand on your neck while the other finally finally covers your breast. The initial touch is feather light, thumb grazing your nipple. Then, he presses firmer, his entire hand covering you with his palm while he kneads and massages. His hand leaves your neck only to cover your other breast, and you’re giddy with need as he works you into a whimpering, keening mess. “That feel good, darlin’?”

“So good,” you nod, grabbing his wrist to keep him there, demanding more.

He hums, keeping the hand you’ve now possessed on your breast, while the other moves down to rub oil into your tummy. His hands are a work of art, skilled in so many ways. You’re trembling by the time he reaches the top of your bikini bottoms. His pinky slips under the hem, making you gasp. He withdraws and does it again, rubbing back and forth until your hips move up to seek his touch.

“Want me to take these off?” He asks, tugging at the strings, already knowing your answer before you nod rapidly.

“Off, please. Take them off.”

His reply is a deep grunt, and you think that must be his grumpy little way of teasing you, “Needy little thing.”

The bottoms come off, and you’re bared to him, your center slick with need and ready to be fucked. But you just know he’s going to take his time. Simultaneously, you can’t stand it, but you also yearn for it. Being teased and molded into a whimpering mess, desperate for his touch. Your husband has never made you feel like this. Sexy. Desirable. Loved.

“Fuck, look at that pussy, baby,” he groans, still not touching you where you really, really need it. He’s massaging your hips now, leaning over you in a way that’s almost obscene as he gets closer to your slick heat. His thumbs press into your hips, then down your thighs until he’s rubbing oil into your legs, still neglecting you, even though every pretense of professionalism has all but burned up in the wake of your arousal.

“Joel,” you whine, arching your hips.

“Patience,” he answers sternly. And that’s that. Nothing more. 

Every stroke up and down your leg is torture as he repeats the same teasing he’d done to the backs of your legs. Getting closer and closer to your pussy, but never fully touching. You’re so eager, your slick coats your thighs, and on a final pass, he rubs it into your skin before his fingers finally graze your clit. You suck in a sharp breath, your hand shooting out to grab him again. To keep him there. Because if he stops now, you think you’ll actually die.

You look up at him, his eyes dark, his grin wide. You’ve never seen him smile like that, and it’s blinding, warm, and teasing. He rubs circles over your clit delicately, not pressing too hard, not too light. It’s so perfect and you’re so on edge that it has you on the precipice of your orgasm faster than you can blink.

And then he eases up, halting your peak so quickly, your hips buck, making you moan in protest, “No, no, no, don’t stop, please, Joel.”

“Ain’t plannin’ on stoppin’, baby,” he says softly, “Just need to get a better look at you.”

And then he shifts, gently lowering himself to the ground, knees probably screaming in protest, and grabbing you by the hips to pull you to the edge of the lounger, slightly askew on the cushion, but still comfortable. He lowers his head, making you squirm, lips brushing against your hip, across your tummy, briefly pausing to kiss around the pink belly button piercing. You arch your hips, enticing him.

“So eager,” he grumbles, one hand spreading your thigh, hooking it onto his shoulder, the other running up your opposite leg, kneading and massaging you into a puddle.

“I need — I need—“ you breathe, one hand clutching the teakwood, the other reaching for him, digging into the muscles of his shoulder.

“What do you need, baby?”

Your chest is heaving as he plants another kiss below your bellybutton, still massaging your leg while his other hand keeps your thigh firmly planted over his shoulder. 

“Fuck, you smell so sweet,” he sighs, inching down. It’s torture. It’s pure, unbridled torture — waiting for him. You’re a slick mess, oiled up, pussy wet, walls fluttering around nothing. “Tell me what you need,” he repeats.

“I need your tongue,” you gasp, the prickle of his beard on your skin driving you insane. You never would have guessed this. That Joel Miller is a fucking tease. That he’s slow and methodical. That he enjoys making you squirm. But here he is, peppering kisses all across your body, everywhere except your aching core, “Please, make me cum. Please, Joel.”

His chuckle is deep, a hint of red coloring his cheeks and neck, either from the sun or arousal, you don’t care.

“Since you asked nicely.”

And then his mouth is on you, hands spreading your thighs wide, keeping you open for him as he drags his tongue from your weeping cunt to your clit where he sucks, teasing you, making you gasp for air, arching your back off the lounger.

Your burrow a hand into his hair — it’s damp with sweat, but that doesn’t bother you in the slightest. 

His mouth is devastating against you, licking stripe after stripe up your slit, pausing briefly to suck and nibble at your clit until you’re sobbing with need. And then, just when you think it can’t get any better, he pushes one, thick finger into you, stretching you. The burn makes you cry out, the slow drag sending prickles of lightning up your spine.

“This is what you wanted, right, darlin’?” He asks, voice rough with arousal, eyes nearly black as he slowly pumps his finger into you. “It’s why you’ve been walkin’ around lookin’ like that. No pants on. Shorts barely coverin’ you, askin’ me to touch you. Askin’ to get fucked.”

You can’t answer. Your voice stalls in your throat. You can only nod, frantically. He adds a second finger and it almost undoes you. You’re so fucking close. He pushes them deep, leaning down to tease your clit again with his mouth, sucking hard, groaning.

“How do you think your husband would feel if he knew his pretty little wife was gettin’ fucked by the help?” 

He twists his fingers, curling them just so. He prods at the sensitive, soft spot inside you, making your arch.

“Ex. Ex — husband. Soon.”

He hums, “Judging by that ring, he’s no ex.”

It takes every ounce of will power you have to rip your hand away from him and tear the ring off your finger. It glints in the sun and clatters on the table next to you when you slam it down. Then your hand is back in his hair, urging him back to your cunt where he grins and licks you again, this time not pausing, not slowing.

Your orgasm is volcanic, blinding. You think you scream. You know your fingers clench around his hair so tight, you’re in danger of pulling it out of his scalp. And he just keeps going. Finger fucking you into oblivion, tasting your release on his tongue, moaning against you as you ride the waves of your climax into bliss.

You’re trembling when he lifts himself off the ground, fingers still probing deep, hunting for another orgasm. He leans over you, bracing his other hand next to your head, and kisses you. You whimper into his mouth, tasting yourself on his lips, tongues stroking and breaths mingling.

“Joel,” you moan when he removes his fingers, leaving you empty and limp. But he’s not pulling away. He’s kissing down your neck, sucking a spot just below your ear that drives you crazy that your husband always neglects, and undoing his belt.

“Tell me what you need,” he says into your neck. But he already knows. You know he knows. You’ve been begging for it this entire time.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you whine, hands searching for the end of his shirt. They slip underneath, and you moan at the way his muscles feel under your fingertips. He’s warm and rough and you want to see him. “Off.”

He hums, leaning up to pull his shirt over his head and toss it somewhere among your discarded bikini. He comes back to you, lips hot on yours while you concentrate your efforts on getting his jeans undone. He’s hard against your hand as you pull the zipper down, aching and needy.

Once his cock is freed, you break away to take him in, and you almost shrink. He is huge, leaking from the tip, resting heavy against your thigh. Even with how wet you are, you don’t know if he’ll fit. But God you want to try. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” he grunts, shoving his jeans and boxers off. He straightens you on the lounger, making room for himself as he climbs over you. He’s golden and glistening in the sun, slick with sweat and your arousal shimmering on his chin. 

The sight of his broad, hard form over you almost makes you cum again. 

He catches you gawking and you could swear he’s trying to fight off a smug smile, but his lips only twitch in amusement instead. Taking his cock in hand, he drags the tip through your folds, making you shudder and reach for his hips, holding him as he hovers, nails pressing a little harder than you intend. He doesn’t seem to mind.

As his tip catches your entrance, he groans, “Nice and wet for me, aren’t you?”

You can only nod, speech evading you as he slowly, cautiously sinks into you. The stretch is everything. You’re so full, so wet, and inconsolable, it makes you mewl in delight. 

“What’s that, darlin’?”

”So — so big. Your cock is so big, Joel,” you sigh, shifting your hips, taking him deeper. The burn is exquisite, but you need him to move. Need him to fuck you into another reality. ”Please..”

”Such pretty little manners,” he tells you, withdrawing slowly.

The first thrust is devastating. The second is mind numbing. And after the third, you’re holding onto him for dear life. It doesn’t take long for you to melt underneath him, arching your hips so he hits at just the right angle. 

“Tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had, baby,” he pants, leaning down to mutter profanities into your ear, nibbling and kissing your neck, “That husband doesn’t take care of you at all does he?”

”No, no, no, never,” you chant, every part of you ready to snap.

“Bet he hasn’t fucked you proper in years,” he grunts, the sound of your skin slapping together downright obscene. “That’s all you needed, huh, darlin’?”

“Uh huh,” you yelp, almost a broken sob leaving you as he drives into you, “Fuck me, Joel..”

“Nothin’ to worry about now, I’ll take real good care of you.”

You could cry from the relief of it. The way his hips slam into you, how deep he is, how attentive. Even at the strongest point in your marriage, it’s never been like this, and it’s ecstasy.

Pleasure pools low in your belly, his cock hitting that sweet, sensitive spot inside you so perfectly, the precipice of your orgasm is on you in an instant. Just as you’re about to cum, he stills, breath heaving, your walls trembling, clenching around him.

“Joel,” you whine, breathless and wanting.

“Not yet, baby,” he tells you, voice syrupy and thick. Pressing a kiss to your neck, then your lips, he sits up on his knees, takes you by the thighs and lifts your hips to grind against him. The position is utterly indecent, back arched, him holding your thighs for leverage while he begins snapping his hips against you. And it’s like he never stopped in the first place.

Your orgasm crashes into you, hands reaching for his wrists to hold on as he towers over you, giving you everything he’s got. The power of his thrusts knocks the breath out of you.

“Take it, baby, fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he grounds out, sweat slicking his muscled chest, dripping down his temple. “You got me so wound up, darlin’, prancin’ around looking sexy as sin. Now I’ve got you all to myself.”

“Don’t stop, please,” you keen, desperately grasping for air, your climax driving away all rational thought and composure. “It’s so good, please, don’t stop.”

“Gonna make me cum, sayin’ things like that.”

You think, then, that you’d be fine with it. Letting him cum inside you, or paint your oiled up body with his seed. Mark you, stake his claim on you. He can cum wherever he wants, you decide, as long as he promises to do it again.

“Ain’t gonna let that piece of shit husband touch you again,” he declares, pinning you with a solid, steady stare, “You’re mine now, darlin’.”

You tell him, then, “Cum inside me, Joel,” nearly sobbing as his powerful thrusts drive you toward another orgasm with blinding speed. His movements are precise and deliberate, his eyes going dark at your words.

You know he wants to do it, that he can’t stop himself even if he wanted to. Even if you weren’t begging for it.

“Yeah?” He huffs, hooking his arms a little higher around your thighs to gain better leverage. You shift your hips, cry out as his cock goes deeper, spearing into you so completely you never want him to leave.

You’re almost sobbing with the approach of another orgasm, one that will undo you and wreck you for the rest of your life. All you can do is nod and gasp and hold onto him as he fucks you deeper. Your neighbors are going to hate you.

“Shit, darlin’,” he grunts, the buck of his hips frantic as he chases his release. When your nails bite into his forearm, the tight coil of his control snaps like a cable and you feel warm ropes of cum fill you. A final orgasm paints stars across your vision, and you faintly hear a guttural moan leave him as you tighten around him once more. He doesn’t stop fucking you until you’re both spent, your muscles aching and fingers sore from how tightly you have them wound around his wrists.

He collapses on top of you in a heap, your bodies slippery with sweat and oil. His hot breath fans over your neck, the weight of him both grounding and comforting. The scruff of his beard prickles your skin as he peppers kisses along your chin, down the column of your throat.

”Ain’t gonna be able to finish those cabinets today,” he grunts.

A slow smile spreads across your lips, ”Why not?”

He lifts his head to gift you with a warm smile of his own, captivated, even after the way he’d fucked you. Surprised that he gives it so willingly now that you’ve had each other in the most physical and intimate manner possible.

”Wanna take you out. Dinner. Will you let me?”

His offer stuns you into silence. 

Yes, you’d practically begged for him to fuck you. Asked him to cum inside you. Told him you were as good as divorced. And yeah, you have every intention of having sex with him again.

But a date? That says something. It speaks volumes to his intentions. Which both frightens and thrills you.

Despite you throwing yourself at him for weeks on end and finally getting what you want, he wants more. And not just your body. 

Your hesitation draws his eyebrows down, “We don’t have to ––“

”I want to,” you answer quickly. But there’s still that lingering sense of doubt. Of trusting someone with yourself only to be stabbed in the back. Betrayed in the most visceral sense. You didn’t have sex with him because you wanted to move on from Jeremy right into another twisted, sickly excuse for a relationship. You just needed attention. And Joel gave it.

He lifts himself off of you and pulls on his jeans, “It’s fine if you don’t wanna ––“

”Joel.”

”I’m too old to be playin’ games, darlin’. If I wasn’t clear before — I like you. More than I should. And I know you’re married, but that didn’t stop us, did it? So if you want this, I’m here. If not, no hard feelin’s.”

He’s half dressed now, jeans buttoned, belt still hanging loose, t-shirt hanging over his broad shoulder. His wide frame blocks the sun, allowing you to see him clearly. No man has ever been as direct and straightforward with his needs. Not like that. It’s… different. Refreshing. Almost unheard of.

You almost want to pull him back down and let him have his way with you again, but you’re a woman of control and poise. You can articulate your needs just as clearly as he has. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bit interested in seeing what manifests.

”Dinner would be lovely,” you begin, keeping your expression controlled, “When Jeremy gets back from whatever trip he’s on, I’m serving him the divorce papers.”

You can see the moment when your words sink in, the pleasant twitch of his lips, the way he leans over you and brushes his lips against yours. This kiss is tender and sweet in a way you haven’t experienced from your own husband in years. But it’s what he says next that turns your body into mush and your mind pliant and docile.

“Good girl.”

I apologize for the length of this

You stumble up the narrow walkway to your place, the world tilting just a little under your heels.

Your fingers fumble clumsily with the keys, the metal jangling loudly in the quiet hallway as you miss the lock for the third time.

A soft, tipsy laugh escapes you while the pleasant buzz of too many cocktails pulses warmly through your veins.

This was supposed to be your night. 

A celebration of the hard-earned promotion you’d fought for months to secure. Frankie had been the one who insisted on it.

You can still picture the way his face lit up on video call when you told him—eyes wide with that boyish pride that always made your heart flutter.

“We’re doing this right, baby,” he’d said, mentioning the name of that rooftop bar downtown you’d been dying to try. “Drinks, dancing, the whole damn thing. I’m taking my girl out.”

That was eight hours ago.

Now the only thing waiting for you is an empty apartment and the sour taste of disappointment lodged in your throat.

You finally manage to shove the key into the lock and push the door open. The familiar creak echoes through the dark space as you step inside.

Your phone feels heavy in your purse, its screen dark and damning. No missed calls. No texts. Nothing.

At first, you told yourself he was just running late.

Frankie’s a pilot—his schedule is chaos at the best of times. You’ve learned to live with the unpredictability of it.

But after getting ready, slipping into that little black dress you know he loves, and Ubering across town… his silence became way too loud.

You called. Again… and again… and again. Straight to voicemail each time.

That’s when the worry really sank its claws in. So you dialed Santiago.

The moment he picked up, you knew exactly what was going on.

Loud, rowdy laughter crashed through the speaker, making you pull your phone from your ear. Santi’s voice came through thick and sloppy, his words slurring together.

“Heeeey… look who it is!”

You demanded to speak to Frankie.

There was a rustle, muffled voices, and then—click! The line went dead.

The memory makes your blood simmer all over again, worse than it did at the bar where you drowned it in your favorite cocktail and forced smiles for the bartender who was clearly hitting on you.

The keys slip from your fingers and clatter onto the entryway table as you nudge the door shut behind you with your hip.

Had Frankie really ditched you? Blew off the night he planned just to go slam cheap beer with the boys?

Signs of uncertainty have been here for weeks now—maybe even months.

The arguments that flare up over nothing. The way your time together has slowly shrunk into quick hellos and tired goodnights.

The comfortable rhythm you once shared has curdled into monotony that’s stagnant and gray.

You’ve felt it. You know he has too, but saying it out loud felt like it might make it too real.

You drop your bag and run a hand through your hair, letting out a long, shaky breath.

Not tonight.

Whatever this mess with Frankie is… it can wait until morning. For now, you just want to wash the night off your skin and disappear into bed.

You flick on the living room lamp, bathing the space in a warm glow that does little to soothe the exhaustion weighing on your shoulders.

“Where the hell have you been?”

You gasp loudly, nearly jumping out of your skin.

Frankie is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring straight at you with furrowed brows. His hair is still damp from a shower, dark curls messily pushed back, and his eyes are glassy—ringed with the haze of whatever he’s been drinking.

“Jesus Christ, Frankie,” you breathe, pressing a hand to your chest. Your heart hammers against your ribs. “You scared the shit out of me. Why are you sitting in the dark like some kind of creep?”

He rises slowly, his chiseled jaw tight. “Why are you out until midnight without telling me where you are or who you’re with?”

A disbelieving laugh bursts from your throat. The audacity of it burns away the last of your cocktail haze.

“Excuse me?” You kick off your heels with angry little thuds against the floor. “Are you seriously trying to lecture me right now? You’re the one who ditched our plans—your plans, mind you—to go drink with your idiot friends!”

Frankie’s stupidly handsome face shifts rapidly: irritation flickering into confusion, then crashing hard into guilt as the realization seems to slam into him all at once. His mouth opens, but no words come out right away.

You scoff, already turning away. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I thought.”

Before he can respond, you stalk down the hallway and slam the bathroom door behind you with a decisive rattle, shutting him out.

He stands frozen in the living room, dragging a hand down his face.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He knows he’s a fucking idiot.

He lost track of time—Santi kept ordering rounds, the guys were loud and insistent (as they always are), and saying no has never been his strong suit.

But that’s no excuse. Not for this. Not for you.

He hears the faucet turn on, then the rush of the shower. Steam soon curls out from beneath the door.

After a long minute, he walks down the hallway and stops outside the bathroom, knuckles hovering.

“Baby…” He knocks once, gently. No answer. He sighs, leaning his forehead against the wood. “I’m sorry. I know I sound like the world’s douchiest boyfriend right now, but I mean it. You don’t deserve to be treated like this. I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear.”

Silence answers him and it’s louder than any escalating argument. He’s ready to accept defeat, turning to grab a blanket from the hall closet, when your voice finally cuts through the sound of running water.

“Come in.”

Frankie hesitates for half a second, then opens the door.

Warm, humid air rushes out to greet him, heavy with the sweet scent of your body wash.

You’re under the scalding spray, the glass door fogged up, your silhouette softened by steam. Water cascades down your skin, washing away the long night.

“You really hurt my feelings, Frankie.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, guilt twisting like a knife in his gut. “I know—”

“I got stood up by my own boyfriend,” you continue, voice a little more emotional from all the drinks. “On a night he suggested to celebrate one of the biggest moments in my career. Do you have any idea how pathetic that made me feel?”

“Baby, I—”

You cut him off again, harsher this time. “These past few months… everything has felt different. We’re not the couple we used to be, and I hate it. I love you, Frankie. I love you so much. But loving you doesn’t mean I’m going to let you disrespect me like this.”

The only sound for several heartbeats is the steady drum of water against tile.

Frankie stands there, water droplets from the steam clinging to his t-shirt.

You’re the first woman who’s ever made him want to be better. Not just coast like he has been, surviving on old military habits and easy nights out. You make him want to fight the version of himself that still reaches for another drink or makes bad decisions for the fuck of it.

The thought of losing you feels like free-falling without a parachute.

He won’t let it happen just because he’s an idiot.

Frankie swallows hard. “I hear you. I’m not making excuses.” 

He waits for answer, the steam swirling between you, heart pounding as he hopes you’ll give him something—anything—to hold onto.

“It won’t happen again, baby. I promise you that,” Frankie murmurs when your silence stretches, his voice rough with sincerity.

The shower curtain shifts. You peek out, water streaming down your face, faint streaks of mascara tracing dark paths along your warm cheeks.

“Join me?”

He doesn’t hesitate. Frankie nods quickly, peeling off his shirt and shoving down his sweatpants in one fluid motion.

Nevermind that he showered under an hour ago. He doesn’t give a fuck about that, not when you’re looking at him the way you are now.

He steps into the shower behind you, not even flinching as the near-scalding water pounds against his broad shoulders and chest. The heat feels good—punishing and cleansing at the same damn time.

The moment he’s close, you press against him. Your soft, wet, soap-slicked body molds perfectly to his harder frame.

A deep groan rumbles from his throat as his large hands settle on your waist, pulling you tighter. His already thickening cock, nestles hot and heavy between the cheeks of your ass.

“Mmm,” you moan softly, the sound dissipating through the steamy air. Having him so close to you chases away the last remnants of your irritation, replaced by a slow, liquid ache low in your belly.

You turn in his arms to face him and Frankie’s hands roam greedily over your soapy curves—tracing the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, then boldly grabbing two handfuls of your ass.

He squeezes, kneading the soft flesh as he grinds forward, letting you feel every inch of how hard you make him. His thick length slides against your skin, twitching with need.

You tilt your head back, offering your mouth. He takes it instantly.

The kiss is deep and desperate—his tongue sweeping across your lower lip before plunging inside, tasting mint toothpaste and the sweetness of your lips

Steam swirls thicker around you both, amplifying the heated lust flaring in the air like wildfire.

He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, wet curls plastered to his forehead, water dripping from his lashes. His breath is ragged.

“Let me make it up to you.” He mutters.  “I’ll make you feel so fucking good, baby.”

Your breath catches. God, you’ve missed this—the way he knows exactly how to touch you, how to fuck you without needing instructions. Frankie has always been dangerously gifted in this department.

“Promise?” you ask, your tone turning flirty and breathy. Your hand slides down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his swelling cock. You stroke him slowly, twisting your wrist under the cascading water.

He grunts, hips jerking into your grip, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the hunger in his eyes. “I’ll take care of you, baby. Don’t you worry.”

The raspy timbre of his voice sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. You pump him faster, loving the way he pulses in your palm.

Suddenly, Frankie catches your wrist, stopping you. With effortless strength, he turns you around and presses your chest against the cool tiled wall. You arch your back instinctively, pushing your ass out toward him.

The position leaves you beautifully exposed—water streaming down your curves, your soaked skin glistening under the dim bathroom light.

He steps in close behind you, hands gripping your hips possessively. His lips brush your ear, voice dropping into a filthy whisper.

“Should I kiss it better?” One of his hands slides down, fingers tracing slowly along your slick pussy from behind. He groans deeply as he feels how wet you already are, your arousal coating his fingertips despite the water.

“Apologize to this pretty pussy for neglecting her… when all she wants is to be kissed, licked, and fucked real nice and deep.”

You whimper loudly at his dirty words, your clit throbbing with every syllable. Your thighs tremble as you nod frantically, all words failing you.

Frankie takes it as the invitation it is. His fingers press more firmly against your aching folds, rubbing deliberate circles over your swollen clit.

The pressure is perfect with how teasing and firm it is. Your knees weaken, thighs shaking as slick coats his fingers.

The steam, the heat, and his skilled fingers have you gasping, pressing back against him desperately, lost in the building pleasure.

Frankie drops to his knees behind you without a word, the spacious shower giving him plenty of room to do what he has to. 

You brace yourself and bend forward even more, arching your back deeply and pushing your ass toward his face.

The hot water cascades down your spine as his large, calloused hands grip your cheeks and spread you wide open.

“Fuck…” he groans. Your pretty pussy is on full display. “Look at you. So fucking wet for me already.”

Without warning, he leans in and drags his tongue in one long, broad stripe from your clit all the way up to your entrance. Then he devours you like it’s the only thing he’s good for.

“Oh my god, Frankie—” you whine, voice cracking as your eyes roll back.

His mouth is relentless, pouty lips sucking on your swollen cunt while his tongue flicks rapidly over your throbbing clit.

The rough scrape of his facial hair against your sensitive skin sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You grind back against his face shamelessly, fingers clawing at the wet tile.

He groans loudly into your cunt, the vibration making your knees buckle. His tongue pushes inside you, fucking you with deep, hungry strokes while his nose presses against the crevice of your ass.

The lewd, wet sounds of him eating you out echo off the shower walls, mixing with your desperate mewls.

“Frankieeee—” you cry out, standing on your tiptoes as your first orgasm crashes over you without mercy. Your thighs shake violently, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps sucking hard on your clit, licking and nipping until he drags you straight into a second, even more devastating climax.

Tears blur your vision. You’re sobbing with pleasure, hips jerking back against his golden mouth as wave after pleasurable wave washes through you.

His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly in place while he drinks every drop of your creamy release.

Only when your legs are truly trembling does he slow down, placing soft, reverent kisses along your soaked pussy until your breathing steadies.

He rises to his full height behind you, water now cooling slightly against your overheated skin.

His lips trail slow kisses up your spine as one hand pumps his aching shaft. He cups your chin with the other, tilting your head back so he can kiss the side of your neck.

“You ready for me, baby?” he murmurs hotly against your ear.

You barely manage a nod before he lines himself up and pushes inside you deep.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as his cock stretches you, filling you completely. The delicious pressure of him pressing against that perfect spot deep inside makes your toes curl.

“Fuck, you feel so good, gorgeous,” he groans, teeth grazing your shoulder. “So tight… so fucking perfect.”

He starts thrusting, slow at first, then faster. The sound of your wet ass clapping rhythmically against his thighs fills the shower.

You push back to meet every stroke, mewling with pleasure.

“Just like that—yes, Frankie, just like that,” you gasp.

Sensing your posture weakening, he wraps one hand sprawls against your stomach, holding you upright, while the other gropes your breast, pinching and rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers.

He leans over you, chest pressed to your back, lips at your ear as he fucks you harder.

“C’mon, baby. Give me another one,” he growls, kissing your cheek sloppily.

You turn your head and crash your lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss—tongues sliding, spit swapping, breathing into each other’s mouths.

His fingers slide down your stomach to rub tight circles on your swollen clit.

The overstimulation hits you like a fucking lightning bolt.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna—!” 

Your scream echoes in the enclosed room as your last orgasm rips through you, your pussy clamping down hard around his cock.

The feeling is too much for Frankie. His thrusts turn feral, slamming into you until he buries himself to the hilt and comes with a heavy sigh.

Thick, hot ropes of his cum flood deep inside you, pulse after pulse, as he grinds against your ass. 

It feels amazing when he comes inside you like this. It’s your favorite feeling in the world, especially when he keeps you plugged up with his spend so none of it leaks out.

You both stay locked together, panting under the now-cool spray. Frankie’s arms are wrapped around you, holding you close as the water rinses away the evidence of your passion.

A soft, giddy giggle bubbles out of you. You feel drunker on him than you ever did on those drinks at the bar.

“I really am sorry, baby,” he whispers, kissing along your shoulder and up your neck tenderly. 

“It’s okay,” you sigh, melting back against his chest. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gives your breasts one last affectionate squeeze, making you laugh.

He pulls out slowly, then turns you in his arms. His voice drops low again, eyes dark with renewed lust.

“Let’s get into bed. I’m not done apologizing yet.”

You bite your lip, a fresh spark of desire flickering through your exhausted body.

How could you possibly say no to that?

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

The following morning, you woke up with Harry spooning you from behind. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept that well or how comfortable it had been. His arm was draped over your midsection, his breaths shallow and hot against the shell of your ear. Luckily, you both were wearing some clothing—him in only his boxers and you with one of his shirts. 

You told yourself that it was because of the alcohol and the location for why you felt so comfortable and rested. 

And not because of the man holding you so close to him like he was afraid to let you go. 

Slowly, you climbed out of bed, careful not to wake him. He moved instead to lie on his abdomen, both arms now coming to rest under the pillow. He was snoring quietly now and it was the first time that you managed to get a good look at him like this. 

How peaceful he looked. 

How the weight of his responsibilities weren’t on his shoulders. 

How fucking handsome he was too. 

You shook your head before your thoughts trailed off and reached for your sleep shorts to slip on. You gave him one last glance before stepping out of the bedroom and shutting the door behind you quietly. 

Walking to the kitchen area, you noticed the card from the villa and dialed the number. You were taken aback at how quickly they answered, asking what you and Harry wanted for breakfast. You looked at the menu and bit your lower lip, ordering a side of scrambled eggs, bacon, an assortment of pastries, and coffee—black for him and a latte for you. 

They excitedly said that they’d be there shortly before you hung up. You looked at the card, eyes widening at what it said. You and Harry had your own butler for the entire stay, anything you wanted, they would be there to give it. 

You sighed. You knew how rich Harry and his family was, but never quite like this. 

You grabbed your camera from the counter and wrote on a notepad in case Harry woke up while you were gone. It was a simple message: Ordered breakfast. Out for a short walk. Be back soon. 

You contemplated on signing off with “Love,” and your name, but decided against it. You glanced down the hallway and noticed the bedroom door still shut before walking out of the villa. 

Harry awoke about ten minutes after you left. He looked around the empty room and furrowed a brow, sitting up and pulling on a t-shirt and breathable sweatpants. He opened the door and called out for you only to be welcomed with silence. It wasn’t until he walked to the kitchen that he saw your note. 

Harry was just about to leave the villa when he heard a knock on the door. He knew it was the breakfast you ordered, so he opened the door and smiled politely at the younger man who held a tray of food. 

“Good morning, Mr. Castillo,” he said with a smile, walking further into the villa to set the food and drinks down onto the kitchen counter. Harry followed eagerly, his stomach rumbling from the smell of food wafting through. He glanced at the counter for a moment, biting his lower lip as he remembered last night’s events. A small smile curled his lips at the thought before he excused himself to get some cash to give a tip. 

“Thank you,” Harry said, sliding a couple of hundred dollar bills into the younger man’s hand. “Smells delicious.” 

The younger man smiled his thanks and then turned on his heel to leave the villa. 

Once alone again, Harry reached for his black coffee and smiled to himself. You knew what he liked and he certainly knew what you liked too because at the sight of your latte, he knew that it’d likely be way too sweet for his liking. 

After a few minutes, Harry reached for his phone and decided to give you a call. He was hungry and he didn’t know how long he could wait. 

“Hey,” you said over the phone. “I’m heading back now.” 

“You ordered breakfast.” 

“And coffee,” you added. “Is it there now?” 

“Yeah, just got here.” 

“Good. Don’t eat without me!”

Harry chuckled. “You know I wouldn’t. It’s why I called. Just wanted to check in to see how long you’d be.” 

“Few minutes,” you answered. “Just went for a walk and took some pictures.” 

“Take any good ones?” 

“I did,” you said. “I’ll show you them when I get back. I’ll see you soon.” 

“See you in a bit,” he replied, hanging up the phone. Just as he was about to set the phone back on the counter, his matchmaker from Adore called. 

Harry glanced at the front door and bit his lower lip, stepping out onto the deck and sliding the glass doors shut as he answered. 

“Hello?” 

“Harry, hi,” she replied cheerily. “I know you’re on vacation, but figured I’d give you a call to let you know some good news.” 

“Right.” 

“You have more than one match,” she said. “And I think having plenty of options gives you more flexibility to choose who you might want to spend more of your time with.” 

“So, date around?” 

“Not around,” she corrected. “Just the list of women I have for you.”

Harry nodded. He glanced over his shoulder and saw you walk into the villa. Your camera was in your hand and you were still wearing his shirt, something that he was sure he’d never get tired of seeing. You spotted him and waved with a grin. 

He forced a smile, waved back, and then turned away from you. It felt like he was cheating on you with what he was doing and the conversation he was having, but Harry needed to think realistically. 

Because after this week, his relationship with you would go back to normal. 

“Okay,” he finally answered. “How many women?”

“Five. I think all could be a great fit, truthfully, but I just wanted to give you a call to let you know that you have options.” 

“Great.” 

“Do you want to stop at five?” 

Harry cleared his throat. “For now, yes.” 

“Wonderful,” she said. “I think it’s a great starting point and each woman has what you’re looking for.” 

Harry sighed. He thought back to Lucy and what she told him about loving being easy. He started wondering what that looked like and what that meant because with you, everything was easy. 

“Does—Does Lucy know about this?” He asked hesitantly. 

The matchmaker replied without hesitation. “Yes.” 

He sighed. “Right, makes sense considering she’s running that company now.” 

“Is that a problem, Mr. Castillo?” 

“No, no,” he answered. “Just making an observation.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” he said quickly. “Please don’t reach out for the remainder of this week, okay? I’ll give you a call once I’m back in New York.” Harry didn’t give her the chance to respond before he hung up the phone. He stepped back into the villa and noticed you reach for your latte, sipping from the mug carefully as you leaned against the counter of the kitchen. 

You were the first one to speak when he pocketed his phone—away from your eyes. 

“Work things?” You asked. 

“Something like that,” he mumbled. “You take any good shots?” 

“I think so,” you smiled, reaching for two plates from the cupboard and setting it on the counter. “We should go for a walk together after breakfast,” you suggested.

“A walk?” 

“Yeah, before all the festivities happen.” 

“First, you want me to swim. Now, you want me to walk,” he chuckled. 

You nodded, grabbing a croissant and some eggs to put on your plate. “You act like it’s the hardest thing in the world.” 

“Well, no,” he sighed. “I just—we don’t have to pretend like we’re together if no one is around.” 

Harry hated himself the minute it left his lips.

Because you looked at him like you had been hurt, like maybe swimming and taking a walk was crossing that boundary that neither of you agreed to. 

“You know what? Yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna eat breakfast outside. You do… whatever you want to do.” 

“Wait,” he said, gently reaching for your hand as you began walking away. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“No, it’s fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “But just so you know, we’re not only fuck buddies, Harry. Two friends can go swimming together… they can go for a walk together.” 

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m just… I’m in my head.” 

“Then, you take some time to figure your shit out,” you said, pulling your hand away and beginning to walk out onto the deck. 

Harry watched you for a moment and sighed, jaw clenching as he turned his back to you. He didn’t know why he was acting like this, why he couldn’t just enjoy the moment and the entire week. He had no concerns now about how the both of you would come across to his family—yesterday showed they were convinced… too convinced about your fake relationship with him. 

And yet, he still wanted everything to go perfectly. 

After about thirty minutes, you walked back inside and set the plate and your mug in the sink. You noticed that Harry’s plate was now empty too. He was sitting on the couch with his phone in hand and you could tell he didn’t want to break the silence first. You caught him looking over at you before turning his gaze away from you quickly. 

You sighed and shook your head. You wouldn’t admit it, but you had a soft spot for him. Always did. 

So, you walked over to the couch and sat next to him. He glanced at you briefly before turning his phone off and setting it on the coffee table. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

“You should be.” 

Harry looked at you now. Noticed the small smile on your lips and he felt himself relax. 

He hated the way it made him feel when you walked away, trying to make the hurt he caused. 

“Right,” he muttered. 

“What’s going on? I thought yesterday was a solid day. We convinced them.” 

“That can change,” he whispered. “They could catch on.” 

“We can come up with excuses if they do,” you reasoned. “Couples are allowed to have disagreements and arguments, Harry.” 

“I know that.” 

“I don’t think you do. No relationship is going to be perfect.” 

“But I can try…” Harry mumbled. 

“Good luck with that,” you sighed. “Listen, we have five days left. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was pushing this into something it shouldn’t be.” 

“You weren’t.” 

“I think you’re lying.” 

He sighed. 

“I just want to have some fun,” you said. “And I wanted to have fun with you.” 

Harry’s brows lifted just slightly. He bit his lower lip and nodded. Hesitantly, he reached out to take your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles lightly. 

“Okay,” he replied. “We can have fun.” 

“I know what this is,” you continued. “I know that after this trip, we go back to normal. I’m not expecting anything, okay? We established rules. We both know that we’re not going to work out even if we did give this a try.” 

He nodded.

“I’m just a really good friend who’s helping you out,” you finished. “And someone to have sex with too.” 

Harry chuckled, but he was still holding onto the last thing you said. It started lingering in his mind: 

We both know that we’re not going to work out even if we did give this a try. 

It shouldn’t have affected him the way it did, but he also couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes softened at those words and how it looked like you were contemplating on it too. 

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll… try.” 

You nodded and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to get ready then. Are we okay?” 

Harry looked up at you as you stood from the couch. He nodded once more and reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips as he pressed a soft and light kiss on the back of it. “We’re okay,” he said. 

He played with your fingers for a moment before letting go. “Don’t take too long.” 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the warmth you felt in the pit of your stomach. “I’ll take however long I want.” 

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, guess that’s fair. You’ll do whatever you want… no matter what I say.” 

You grinned. “You know me so well.” 

Then, you turned on your heel and walked down the hallway into the bedroom. You needed some distance because feelings that you hadn’t ever felt before started surfacing.

It took you about half an hour to finish getting ready. Harry had told you last night that today’s events would mainly be on the water since his parents rented a yacht for the remainder of the day. 

You were dressed in a sleeveless, tan crocheted maxi cover up dress over a black two piece bikini. The dress clung to your curves with a high slit on the right leg. As you walked out of the bathroom, you bumped into Harry whose hands immediately moved to rest on your hips. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath. Harry’s eyes took you in, licking his lower lip as he kept his hands on you firmly. “I buy this one?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “You like it?” 

He nodded. “Trying not to say anything inappropriate.” 

“We’re past that, don’t you think?” 

“Right.” He said quietly, pulling away from you briefly only to give your bodies space. Harry grabbed your hand and twirled you in front of him, biting his lip at the sight of you. “Beautiful.” 

Your cheeks flushed with warmth as you stared up at him, noticing the longing gaze in his eyes as he stared at every inch of you. You leaned in and kissed his cheek lightly, using your free hand to gently pat his chest. 

“I’m gonna be outside for a bit, okay?” You said quietly. 

Harry nodded, but still kept you close, still kept a tight hold on your hand. “Okay.” 

Your head tilted. “Need help getting ready?” You teased. 

Harry’s gaze darkened. “You wouldn’t be helping if I needed to get ready.” 

“No?” 

He shook his head. “I’d rather you help me out with something else.” 

You grinned. “You’re dirty… and already thinking like that this early in the morning?” 

“I wouldn’t consider it early…” 

You leaned in again. This time, you brushed your lips with his and lingered for a few more seconds. “You didn’t want to take a walk with me, so… I don’t think I can you help you out with what you need me to do.” 

His eyes narrowed and he turned you around, bringing you flush back against him. You felt his hardness at your lower half instantly, the sweatpants a very thin material that made you feel the outline of him very easily. 

“Tease,” he muttered. 

“Hey, you put yourself in this position,” you argued, though you pushed back against him. “Blame yourself.” 

His large hand came up to cover a breast, massaging it slowly into his palm as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “I’m thinking that you’re already wet for me,” he whispered. 

“N—No,” you stammered, eyes fluttering. “Not even close.” 

He chuckled and then pulled away, watching you turn back around to face him. “Liar,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t lie.” 

He laughed again. 

A smile formed on your lips. 

“Just get ready,” you said, gently pushing him away as you began walking out of the room. 

Harry took your hand again. You looked back over at him. 

“You really do look beautiful,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I won’t take long.” 

You nodded and watched him enter the bathroom, the door quietly shutting behind him. You let out a shaky sigh. Playing pretend was starting to blur the lines of what was real and what wasn’t… and you couldn’t help the feeling in your chest at the way he looked at you, or the way he complimented you so easily. 

Harry stepped out of the room and spotted you sitting on the deck outside with a journal on your lap. He smiled to himself. You looked beautiful like this and he couldn’t remember a time where you seemed so carefree and happy like now. He wondered if it was because of the trip or if it was because of him. 

As his mind began drifting though, he shook his head and began walking towards you. Harry needed to stop the lingering thoughts because this was going to end in just five days. 

Even if maybe, he didn’t want it to. 

He was dressed in an olive green tank top underneath another white shirt, unbuttoned this time. Harry stepped out onto the deck with you, causing you to look up at him with a broad smile. 

“You look cute,” you said. 

“You think so?” He asked, playfully twirling in front of you.

You let out a quiet a laugh and nodded, shutting your journal and extending a hand up for him to help you up. Harry took your hand eagerly, gently helping you to your feet. 

“Is now a bad time to ask if you get seasick?” Harry asked. 

“I think so,” you answered. “But I think I’ll be okay.” 

“I’ll be right there,” he said. “In case you want to hold my hand or something.” 

You felt your cheeks warm instantly. “Will you hold me if I ask?” You teased. 

Harry nodded, pulling you closer to him until you collided against his chest. “I’ll do anything you ask,” he whispered. “Anything you want.” 

“Careful,” you whispered. “That might come back to bite you.” 

Harry’s eyes glimmered with excitement. “I’m counting on it.” 

You bit your lower lip to prevent the large smile from lining your lips. You weren’t used to him being so charming like this. Sure, you knew he had a way with words, but never had you been on the receiving end of it. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

He chuckled. “More family today,” he said, leading you back inside the villa. 

“Okay,” you nodded. “Anything or anyone I should be wary of?” 

“No,” Harry answered. “I just wanted to give you the heads up, that’s all.” 

“So, I gotta pack on the affection, huh?” 

Harry smiled. “Maybe not too much where it doesn’t seem real.” 

“Oh, trust me, Harry,” you smiled. “I can make it seem real even if it’s too much.” 

He watched you for a moment, walking around the villa like you already knew where everything was. He cleared his throat, already beginning to imagine what it’d be like having you at his penthouse more regularly. Would you walk around his place like you owned it? Wearing nothing but his shirt? 

Then, he started imagining what it’d be like coming home to you. Waking up with you. Going to bed with you. Cooking dinner with you. 

“Are you listening?” You said, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry, what?” He asked, shaking his head. “Sorry. I spaced out.” 

You laughed quietly. “Are you nervous again, Harry?” 

He shook his head once more. “No.”

“Then, where’s your head at?” 

He shrugged. Harry couldn’t admit what he was thinking about because that would mean crossing a line you both agreed to never cross. 

“Nowhere.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“Could never lie to you,” he forced a smile. “Now, let’s go.” 

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head, taking his hand in yours and lacing your fingers with his. “You just lied.” 

He laughed quietly and looked down at your hand, squeezing it gently in his own. “I just spaced out. That’s all. It’s not serious.” 

“Okay,” you said. “If you’re telling me the truth, come here and give me a kiss then.” 

Harry cleared his throat and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “There. Happy?” 

“That’s not a kiss.” 

His eyes glanced down at your lips for a moment. “If I kiss you, will you shut up?” He teased. 

You bit back a smile and nodded, blinking up at him innocently. “Yeah, baby.” 

Harry swallowed nervously. He didn’t think that you’d have this much of an effect on him. You calling him baby, you asking for a kiss and looking at him like the way you are now shouldn’t have an effect on him if there were no real feelings involved. 

Right? 

He rolled his eyes and leaned in to press his lips firmly against your own. Harry pulled his hand from yours to place both of his own on your hips. Your hands moved to link at the nape of his neck, eagerly moving your lips with his. 

“Mm,” he mumbled, feeling you smile against his lips before you pulled away. 

“We have to get into character,” you reasoned. 

“Character, huh?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, leaning up to peck his lips a few more times. 

“Okay then, baby,” Harry said, moving a hand around to rest on your ass. “Let’s get into character then.” 

You both were standing in the doorway, staring into each other’s eyes. The air felt charged again. Something unsaid lingering once more. 

“You calling me baby is… it’s nice.” You whispered. 

“Yeah? You like it?” Harry asked, bringing his other hand to your face, gently tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

“Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Because I like it when you call me that too.” 

You shouldn’t have been surprised at the size of the yacht that his parents rented for the day. You already noticed and heard plenty of chatter and laughter as Harry led you onto it. He kept his hand on your lower back as he smiled and nodded at familiar faces. 

“Do you think we can swim?” You asked, looking over at him. 

“Swim?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We don’t… we’re on a yacht, baby.” 

“Yeah… we’re on the water. Are we just going to drink and mingle all day?” 

“That’s the plan.” 

“I mean, that’s fun, but…” 

Harry smiled. “Okay, we can swim.” 

Your eyes lit up. “You’ll join me?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Because if I don’t, no one will.” 

“Really?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Well, let’s show your family how to have some fun.” You smiled, leaning up to gently press a kiss to his cheek. “For now, let’s get some drinks.” 

Harry smiled, following you to the bar. He couldn’t help but notice his extended family’s gaze on you. It wasn’t like this with Lucy. He watched the men’s lingering gaze on your body and noticed the way the women nodded at him with an approving smile. 

“Two glasses of wine, please,” he heard you say, his attention turning to the bartender who eyed you with a smirk. 

“Coming right up.” 

Harry wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you close to his side. His eyes narrowed at the bartender who paid no attention to him whatsoever. After he poured two glasses of wine like you asked, he set it on the counter. 

“Nice dress,” he said with a grin. 

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled, taking the two glasses. “Here you go, baby,” you added, turning to face Harry. You knew what the bartender was doing and knew that Harry had a reaction to it by the way he kept you close. So, you leaned in and pecked his lips. “You don’t have to worry,” you whispered. 

Harry nodded and looked down at you. “I know.” 

The bartender cleared his throat and turned away from the both of you. 

“Uh huh, sure,” you smiled. “Come on. Let’s go find your parents.” 

Harry followed you closely. He sipped from his glass and watched you walk with so much confidence like you always did. It wasn’t until that moment he realized you seemed to always catch his attention, even before this. 

It only took a few minutes before the both of you found his parents mingling with other members of the family. They were obviously at the top deck of the yacht, leaning against the railing. His mother had her own glass of wine in hand while his father had his normal glass of scotch.

“Harry, honey,” his mother smiled, excusing herself from the people she was talking to. Harry led you over to them and watched how his mother pulled you into a hug first, kissing your cheek before she did the same to him. 

“Hi, ma,” Harry kissed her cheek and turned to his father. “Hey, dad.” 

“Nice, isn’t it?” His dad smiled. “Your mother wanted the biggest yacht.” 

His mother rolled her eyes. “He’s lying. He wanted the biggest yacht.” 

You laughed quietly and leaned against Harry, feeling his arm tighten around you absently. 

“Well, it’s beautiful,” you smiled. 

“She was actually wondering if we could stop the yacht sometime later,” Harry said. 

“For what?” His father asked. 

“To swim.” 

“Swim?” His mother asked. 

You smiled and looked at Harry. “Yeah.” 

His parents looked at each other for a moment, then they glanced up at Harry. He shrugged as a response. “She wants to swim,” he chuckled. 

“Will you be swimming too?” His mother asked, grinning. 

“Or will you let her swim alone? Afraid to get your hair wet?” Peter teased, approaching the four of you with a quiet chuckle. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not afraid to get my hair wet.” 

“So, that’s a yes, then? You’re gonna swim too?” 

Harry looked down at you and nodded. “Yes, I’ll be swimming too.” 

You grinned and wrapped an arm around him, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “My hero,” you teased. 

His parents laughed quietly. Peter looked down at you with an amused smile. 

“You’re bringing my brother out of his comfort zone,” he pointed out. “I like it.” 

“You all act like I don’t have any fun,” Harry said. 

“You don’t,” his parents and Peter said simultaneously. 

You smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek, gently rubbing his back. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll show you how to have some fun.” 

“I have fun,” Harry muttered. 

“Okay,” you said. 

“Sure you do,” Peter added. 

“Where’s Charlotte? Shouldn’t you be with your wife?” He said, rolling his eyes.

“She’s just in the bathroom,” Peter chuckled. 

“Right.” 

“Anyway, yes, we’ll stop the yacht for you to swim,” his mother smiled. 

“Will you join us too?” You asked. 

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh, baby, I don’t think—”

“You know what? Yes,” his father said with a smile. 

“We’ll join you,” his mother added. 

About an hour and a half later, you and Harry were in one of the luxury bedrooms on the yacht. You wanted to lie down for a moment, feeling just a bit seasick with the added alcohol too. His parents had told the both of you to go to one of the rooms downstairs, away from the crowd and noise. 

“You okay?” Harry asked, sitting at the edge of the bed as you remained on your back. 

“Yeah,” you answered. “Just wanted to catch my breath.”  

“Too much?” 

You shook your head. “I’ve just never been on a boat before.” 

He chuckled and gently slipped your sandals off your feet. He took one of your feet in his grasp and began massaging it gently, watching your eyes flutter shut. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had like four glasses of wine that quickly,” he commented. 

“I figured alcohol would help—mmm, that feels good,” you mumbled, feeling his thumbs dig into the bottom of your foot. 

“Should I tell my parents no on the swimming?” 

“No!” You said, sitting up abruptly. “No, I still want to go swimming. Just need a little break, that’s all.” 

“What can I do?” 

“What you’re doing is great,” you mumbled, laying back on the bed as you felt him move his hands from your feet up your legs, bringing the ends of your dress with it.

“Yeah?” He asked, biting his lower lip as he watched you reach for the end of your dress to pull it over your body. You were now clad in a simple black two piece bikini. 

“Harry?” 

“Yeah, baby?” He asked, one hand moving up your leg to your thigh and back down. 

“You’re touching me.” 

“Want me to stop?” 

You shook your head, propping yourself on your forearms to look down at him. “You’re not touching me where I want you to touch me.” 

Harry’s gaze darkened with lust. “Where do you want me to touch you, baby?” 

“Come here.” 

He nodded and kicked off his own sandals, climbing onto the bed and crawling over you. You spread your legs to give him space to settle between them and he propped one hand on the mattress. 

“Where do you want me to touch you?” He asked again. 

You stared up at him and reached down to grab his wrist, guiding his hand between your legs. 

“Right here?” He asked. 

You nodded. “I think I’ve… been wet since we left our villa.” 

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. “Yeah?” 

“Touch me, please.” 

“God, you’re pretty when you’re begging, baby.” Harry smiled, pulling the bottom of your bikini to the side to expose your glistening heat. He ran a finger along the length of you, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Fuck.” 

“Told you.” 

Harry slid his middle finger inside of you, feeling your warmth and wetness immediately. He watched your eyes flutter closed, a quiet whimper escaping your lips. 

“Wish I brought a condom,” he said quietly, brushing his lips along your cheek. Harry began pumping his finger in and out of you, propping himself on his forearm as he brushed your hair away from your face with his free hand. 

“W—Why?” 

He lowered himself until he nipped at your ear, whispering quietly, “So I can fuck you.”

Then, Harry slid in another finger. You were so wet, welcoming his digits with ease. He moved his lips from your ear to the side of your neck. 

“Harry,” you moaned loudly, moving your hands to his tank top and gently bunching the fabric with your grip. 

“You’re so fucking wet, baby,” he whispered, pulling back to look down at you. “Fucking soaked.” He pulled his fingers out abruptly to look at his digits, glistening with your arousal as he brought it to his lips. He groaned at your taste before sliding his fingers back inside of you. He began pumping his fingers rapidly now. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” you moaned, toes curling as your back arched. 

Harry knew you were close now, could see it in the way your face scrunched up and how your body began trembling. He thrusted his fingers to the knuckle, curling both of them inside of you as his thumb rubbed circles into your clit. 

“Fuck… me!” You moaned and Harry used his free hand to cover your mouth, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. 

“Damn, look at you…” he grinned, continuing to curl his fingers inside of you as you rode through your climax. You were breathing heavily now and finally opened your eyes to look at him, slightly dazed, as you watched him bring his fingers back to his lips. “Mmmm. Let’s hope no one heard you.” 

You grabbed his wrist and gently tugged his hand from your mouth, wrapping your lips around one of his fingers. You swirled your tongue around his digit before pulling it from your mouth. 

“Feel better?” He asked. 

You nodded. “A bit.” 

“A bit?” Harry chuckled. 

“Wish you fucked me,” you grinned. 

He cleared his throat. “Don’t tempt me.” 

“Mm, having sex with a condom is a rule of ours,” you said. 

“I know it is.” 

“But we can break rules from time to time, right?” You asked. 

Harry’s brows shot up. “What?” 

“What?” 

“You’ll let me fuck you without a condom?” 

“As long as you pull out.” 

He let out a shaky breath. “Baby… you can’t—you can’t say something like that.” 

“No?” 

He shook his head. “Because I just know that it’ll feel good without it. How would I be able to go back once I know what you feel like… raw?” 

You licked your lower lip and gently pushed him onto his back. You straddled his waist and reached down to undo the button of his shorts before sliding the zipper down. You wasted no time in pulling his hardened length out, slowly stroking the base of him. 

“Baby,” he whispered, letting out a strained groan. 

“Let me sit on it,” you said, leaning down to lightly peck his lips. “Will you let me?” 

“Fuck,” he moaned, feeling your thumb brush over his glistening tip. “Baby, are you sure?” 

“I trust you,” you whispered, lifting your hips. “Do you trust me?” 

“More than you’ll ever know,” Harry admitted. 

You smiled and slowly slid down onto him, gasping loudly at the feel of his girth stretching you. You could feel every inch of him now, every vein and the warmth of his manhood slide along your walls. 

Harry moved both hands to your hips, gripping them tightly. Your walls sucked him in, tight and wet and warm around his base as you continued to slide down along him. He kept his eyes focused on yours, pursing his lips to peck your own. 

“God, you feel fucking amazing,” he whispered, moving his hands from your waist to your ass, slowly beginning to guide you along his length. 

“I feel all of you,” you mumbled, eyes falling shut as you rested your forehead against his. “Every fucking inch.” 

Harry knew he wasn’t going to last long, especially not with the way he felt your walls slide along his length. It felt so much better without having to use a condom but now he wasn’t sure how he was going to spend the rest of the day on this yacht when all he wanted to do now was just spend it at the villa with you.

Between your legs. 

Familiarizing himself with your sex without a barrier. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, holding you just a few inches above him as he pressed his feet on the mattress and began thrusting up into you. Harry’s eyes shut tightly now, fingertips digging into your ass. 

You buried your face against his neck, biting down on the fabric of his shirt to muffle your moans. 

Harry slowly rolled you onto your back, pounding into you. He began chasing his own release, and after a few more thrusts, Harry pulled out abruptly and came hard on your abdomen. His body shuddered as he opened his eyes to look down at you. Your midsection was glistening with his come now. 

“Yeah…” you said through pants. “I think it’s going to be hard going back to condoms now too.” 

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned down to peck your lips. “You’re crazy.” 

“About you, maybe,” you grinned. 

Harry smiled. He wasn’t sure what that meant—if it meant anything—but he couldn’t help the way it made him feel. 

“Let me clean you up,” he said, climbing off the bed and walking into the connected bathroom. He wiped himself first before tucking himself back inside his shorts. Harry walked back into the room and gently cleaned his come off your abdomen, biting his lower lip. 

“Thank you,” you said, moving a hand to his hair and running your fingers through his curls. 

He looked over at you. “Gonna want to do that again,” he admitted. 

“Me too,” you smiled. 

“Tonight?” Harry asked. 

“You know we will.” 

“Good.” Once you were clean, he watched you sit up to pull your dress back on. “Feeling ready to go back out there?” 

“I’m relaxed now,” you smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “And ready to swim.” 

Harry laughed loudly. He watched you jump off the yacht and into the water yelling “cannon ball!” He shrugged off his tank top and his shirt before joining you immediately, swimming over to you. For once, he didn’t mind his parents’ parties because you managed to distract him, managed to make it fun. He wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned in to peck your lips, feeling your hands push his hair away from your face. 

“Did I look cool?” You asked. 

Harry laughed. “I don’t know if cool would be something I’d describe you as.” 

You gasped playfully. “Then, what would you describe me as?”  

He smiled. “Gorgeous.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Flirt.” 

Then, Peter and Charlotte jumped off the yacht too, both holding hands as they jumped into the water. 

“Woo!” Peter chuckled, swimming to the surface with Charlotte in tow. “Water feels amazing.” 

You smiled and looked up to see both Harry’s dad and mom standing at the edge of the yacht. 

“Ma! Be careful and—” Harry exclaimed before being cut off when she jumped into the water with his dad right behind her. 

He smiled to himself. Harry had gotten so used to working so much, so used to seeing his parents in business mode, that this side of them had given him a glimpse of his childhood. 

And it was all because of you. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hm?” 

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, kissing your cheek. “For this. For making this memorable.”

You smiled. “Well, we’ve got five more days left of this.” 

He nodded and pulled you closer. His mind started drifting again. 

What if this didn’t have to end? 

The generator hadn’t been damaged, and rummaging through the icy cooler proved that it thankfully wouldn’t need to be replaced either, but the rest of the kitchen was a different story. He mentally went through the list of things he would need to try to fix or buy again, and the familiar dread of worrying over credits gripped him for an instant before he remembered it was no longer such an issue these days, thanks to the New Republic and their much more frequent and reliable payments.

“How about some krill chowder then we’ll go check if the fresher made it?” he suggested.

“Ah!” Grogu agreed, jumping from his back to stand on the counter as he set about warming them a couple of bowls in the heating unit. It made a new, clanking, worrying sound, but it seemed to be working reasonably well still.

As they sat across from each over the counter – Grogu simply plonked himself down while he managed to rescue a sturdy metallic stool from under some rubble – it struck Din that it had been weeks since they had a quiet moment like that, just the two of them. Home and safe. He took off his helmet and inhaled deeply, the pungent smell of the chowder a welcome one.

Grogu looked up from his bowl and his ears perked up. He knew that they’d be staying home for a while if he’d decided to remove his helmet to drink his soup rather than inhaling it as quickly as possible from the corner of his mouth.

“Kind of a close one, huh?” he acknowledged.

Grogu stopped slurping his meal once more, waiting for him to elaborate. But those were not easy words to say. He hadn’t come this close to not making it for a long while. Not that he actually kept track of such things, but ever since the kid had become his apprentice he’d tried to be more careful. One thing was for certain though, he needed time to let his body heal properly. Time to let the child be a child again for a bit. Time to come to terms with the fact that his son had saved him from certain death. Twice.

“Let’s take a break, we have enough credits for a while and the Anzellans need to help me finish fixing a few things on the Crest before we hit up the Colonel for a new mission.”

The child nodded, pleased with that decision, then pointed at the missing roof.

“That, too,” Din agreed. “I’ll need to find a builder in town, I’m sure Greef can recommend one.”

Such luxury to have enough credits to actually be able to pay someone to handle that for him instead of having to figure out how to do it on his own. He was certain he’d be able to manage it somehow, but he’d rather focus on the Crest. Getting her just right was something he actually looked forward to. She would soon fly even better than the old one, and the prospect made him smile.

Grogu yawned loudly and dropped his empty bowl on the counter. His son needed some sleep, but he could tell he was still fighting it, his eyes resolutely open and his small hands jittery.

“I’ll go check if the boiler survived and draw you a bath, what do you say?”

The warm water would soothe the kid and he’d be down in no time. But his son made a face, because he knew it was his usual strategy and it meant bedtime.

“You can play in the water with your toys for as long as you like,” he added as an incentive, and it worked – it usually did.

“Bwah!” Grogu chirped, jumping down from the counter.

As the boy played noisily among his bath bubbles in a corner of the room still covered by some roof, Din found a large enough tarp to attach to the ceiling for the time being. It would do the trick unless it started raining hard, but the weather report he’d listened to on the transceiver seemed to be reasonably optimistic.

After making sure that Grogu was still busy enough in his washtub – he was – Din set about freshening up. Their clothes had survived the ordeal as they were packed in sturdy cases in the bedroom and it felt nice to put on something clean after his shower. He rubbed some healing salve over the wounds that required it and that he could easily reach in his bruised and stiff state, and decided the rest could be dealt with if it still hurt the next day.

The boy had started to play more quietly in his bath, and the splashing sounds had almost stopped – he knew he’d quickly ask to be picked up, and as soon as the thought entered Din’s mind he saw little arms reach up towards him. Grogu looked impossibly tiny and young as he slowly dried him and dressed him again in clean clothes. It amazed him anew that such a tiny being had rescued him. Travelling all across the Outer Rim with even tinier creatures and knowing exactly what to do. Choosing to stay behind once he’d been offered a safe escape despite his injunction to leave. And then taking care of him. Healing him. Making sure he didn’t die.

“That poison that infected me, you had to find an antidote for it, right?” Din asked as he slowly put each of his tiny arms into their respective holes.

Grogu nodded languidly.

“You healed the wound first, but it wasn’t enough,” he added, to another answering nod. The child had frequently healed some of his injuries – most times without his acknowledgment or approval. He had brief flashes of his comatose state on the forest floor. A feeling of warmth and reassurance that the close proximity of his son provided. Fresh water clearing his senses for a few stolen seconds. And then a weird taste in his mouth before he finally emerged from his oblivion.

“You found someone who could help,” he eventually surmised, and the boy looked up. As tired as he was he could still read worry in his eyes – he knew he wasn’t supposed to interact with strangers or show them his powers.

“You did good, kid,” he immediately reassured him, stroking his back. “I know you’re usually a good judge of character on who you can trust.” And this was true enough, as it had also been the case with Rotta, with whom he hoped to cross paths again, since anyone with such a long lifespan could be an invaluable presence in the child’s life one day. “And I know I can trust you with my life, just as you can trust me with yours.”

The child smiled, pleased to receive such high praise. He gripped a couple of his fingers tight and cooed, his ears slowly lowering as he yawned again.

Had you been scared of it? Yes. Of course. Especially in the beginning, when you thought you were crazy for risking your life again when you were already on borrowed time. But as confidence grew and your clumsiness got under control, you became like a shadow in the city of New York. Or at least, that’s what the papers called the mysterious ghost that broke into mob hideouts and delivered evidence at the footsteps of the press.

It was a lonely life you led, although whether it was out of necessity or a preference, wasn’t a question you knew the answer to. The void was all you knew at this point, after years of hiding from the powerful people who only saw you as a liability that should have been eliminated ages ago.

But at least you had found a purpose, a small way to make the community a safer place, whether you were an active part of it or not. Even if you’d never be able to step back into the light, it still helped make the hollowness of your heart an easier burden to bear.

Holding your breath, your eyes flickered up from the lockpicks, jammed inside of the door in front of you, to peek hesitantly at the guard around the dark corner, his heavy footsteps slowly pacing up and down the long hallways outside of the district attorney’s office.

Once the door clicked open and you slipped inside, it didn’t take too long before you found what you were searching for, though as you cracked the procured folder open in your palms and began to skim through it, a thump found your ears and caused you to slam the file shut again.

Your head snapped up in the direction of the ajar doorway, only a beat passing before you heard the security guard from out in the corridor call out over the radio.

Feet rooted to the ground, your only path of escape was swiftly blocked by the blur of a scuffle, now several guards attempting to overpower an intruder dressed in deep, dark crimson.

A gasp escaped your seized-up lungs as you recognised the brutal fists of the devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Apparently, you hadn’t been the only vigilante in New York suspicious of the crooked politician, though never in your wildest dreams did you think that Daredevil’s path would ever cross your own.

Half frozen in fear, another part of you couldn’t help but marvel at the precision of his skills, as combat had never been something you’d refined to that degree. Sure, you had tried, just in the rare case that you were ever noticed, but in no way could it compare to the whirlwind before you now.

Once everyone but the devil was unconscious on the ground, you saw as his broad, panting shoulders appeared around the corner, his hulking form slowly stepping over the threshold.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you stayed frozen in the corner, watching as he paused on his way to the desk, tilting his head a moment before it twisted in the direction of you.

“Give me the folder,” the devil demanded straight at your invisible form. Holding your breath, your eyes were the size of saucers as the infamous vigilante continued to speak, “come on, I know that you’re scared,” he tried to soften his tone as he extended a hand, “you don’t have to end up like your buddies if you just hand it over.”

Blinking hard, your neck twisted just to make sure that he was in fact speaking to you and not some person lurking in the background, “you–…you can see me?”

Cocking his head, Daredevil murmured, “w-what?”

“How?” you panted as he closed the distance between you, “I–, hey!” he promptly snatched up the folder your stunned fingers had slackened around.

“You should probably call an ambulance for the others,” he noted before turning on his heel.

Face completely muddled with confusion, you sputtered, “wha–, I don’t work here–, give that back!” you lunged to try and steal back the file.

And though you tried your hardest to keep up with the devil’s quick reflexes, the tussle that rapidly unfolded didn’t last too long before he knocked you on your ass and escaped into the dark of the night.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” you murmured just beneath your breath as soon as you found your way inside of the DA’s penthouse, the very next night, only to discover the unconscious frames of two security guards on the floor.

But before you could even draw another breath, your invisible frame was slammed up against the nearby wall, your powers flickering at the impact, revealing your form.

“Are you following me?” Daredevil grunted as his forearm held you pinned. 

Stiffening up, “me following you? In your dreams,” you gasped before attempting to give him a shove, “get off of me!”

With a faint huff, the vigilante complied, lowering his grip and taking a single step back.

“I–,” you panted as you glared back at him, “how the fuck did you manage to spot me? I mean, even with my invisibility up, I always make sure to be careful, especially after running into someone like you who can apparently see straight through all of that.”

“Invisi–,” he echoed, clearly taken aback, “wait, you’re invisible?”

“Well, yeah…” your eyes shifted as you pointed out the obvious, “or well,” concentrating a moment, you then turned your physique transparent once more, “now I am.”

Tilting his head, the devil listened closely before murmuring, “huh… so that’s what that buzzing was…”

“Buzz?”

“Yeah. It sounds like your body’s vibrating when you do that…” he pointed out the detail which your own hearing wasn’t sharp enough to be aware of, and your heartbeat began to pick up as the reality of his heightened senses dawned on you. When he parted his lips again, he almost sounded starstruck as he put the pieces together, “…you’re Shadow… the vigilante that brought down Vladimir Rozanov…”

“Uhm, yeah… I thought you figured that part out when you saw straight through the whole invisibility thing,” your feet shifted slightly beneath you, “or do I just look like any other person to you when I switch it on?”

“Well, not exactly,” he briefly pursed his lips, “I could hear you,” he then shared, “your breathing… your pulse… and what I now know is what your powers sound like.”

“Seriously?” your nerves only grew at the thought of him being capable of reading you like a book, “and here I thought you could just see me. That is so much more intimate…” heat swiftly rose in your cheeks as you realised how that must have sounded, “I mean–, uhm… so you can’t see me?”

A chuckle swiftly escaped him because of how ironic that question was if you knew the man behind the mask, “no. I can’t.”

“Well… that’s comforting, I guess…” you coughed before an awkward joke slipped out past your lips, “then again, with those kind of senses, you probably know what I had for breakfast this morning–”

“Sourdough toast with butter, a sharp cheddar and half a pickle,” he slowly took a single step closer as he actually answered your jest, “although all I can really focus on right now is the chocolate bar you were gobbling down on your way here.”

“I–…” your eyes flickered across his partially obscured features as you stood completely frozen in front of him.

When he finally began to back away from you, he didn’t stray too far from your orbit, only shifted slightly as he did a half turn and parted his lips again after a beat of silence had consumed the space between you,  “well, I guess an apology might be in order, seeing as I didn’t realise who you were and just took that file from you…”

Swallowing hard, you found the courage to speak to the devil once more, “that and how you swooped in like a fucking hurricane, nearly killing everyone.”

“Wow, wow, I didn’t kill anyone,” he swiftly shot back, his palm drifting up defensively.

“Maybe not, but you did beat them half to death,” you gestured to the unconscious security guards, lying like rugs on the floor.

“What, are you seriously gonna stand here like a pot calling the kettle black?”

“I don’t hurt anyone unless I have to,” you pointed out, “and even then, I don’t black out until they’re basically pulp.”

Letting out a sigh, Daredevil twisted his body further away from you till his silhouette caught the moonlight streaming in through the windows, “alright…” his hands came to rest on his hips, “…well, I was gonna suggest lending you a hand tonight, seeing as we’re obviously after the same thing, but sure, if you instead wanna just stand there and critique me, go right ahead.”

A scoff left your lungs faster than your eyebrows managed to soar up towards the sky, “you help me? Please. I don’t need your help, much less want it,” you crossed your arms heatedly.

Pursing his lips, he simply uttered, “suit yourself, then…” before you watched him saunter over to the plush armchair in the corner and drop down into it, his feet swiftly swinging up upon the coffee table as his fingers interlaced behind his head.

A sharp huff escaped you as you stared back at him, momentarily stunned by his audacity, before muttering, “asshole…” which only made the petty devil smirk, although that wasn’t a reaction you managed to spot before you turned on your heel and began to search the place.

Trying your best to ignore the comments the other vigilante occasionally threw out simply to get on your nerve, your eyes nearly rolled out of your skull by the time that you eventually found the hidden safe in the study.

And when a curse left your lungs as you struggled to unlock it, or even track down some clue as to what the combination was, the devil suddenly appeared over your shoulder, his low voice tickling the shell of your ear as he asked teasingly, “you sure you don’t need my assistance?”

“Unless you can crack a fucking safe, then no,” you begrudgingly admitted defeat, “we might as well just leave.”

To which Daredevil simply smirked and told you to step aside. You stood utterly dumbfounded beside him as he just walked up and began to twist the lock, his other palm flat against the safe as he listened closely as the springs inside virtually bent to his will.

And as the only sound that echoed throughout the office was the dull clicks of the lock beneath the devil’s touch, you let your stare drift down over his silhouette. From the stubbly jaw that poked out of the bottom of his mask, to the way his suit moulded against his broad frame, your eyes didn’t snap away till his voice suddenly found your ears.

“You okay?” he briefly paused as he fought a blooming smirk.

“Of course,” you coughed, forcing your vision upon anything else, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your adrenaline’s high…” he gave you the benefit of the doubt, even though he had picked up on how your heart was still nearly thumping out of your chest, and not because of any nerves.

You couldn’t help but chalk his comment up to just yet another jab at your capability, which promptly sent you crashing down onto earth with a huff, “I’m fine.”

When the safe finally clicked open, and Daredevil picked up the thumb drive resting atop the stack of cash inside, your fingers swiftly snatched it up before you spun around and turned on the computer on the desk behind you.

“What’s on it?” the devil asked as he slowly wandered to the other side of the desk, looming behind the monitor as your eyes briefly strayed from the screen to glance up at him.

“Well, let’s see…” your eyes narrowed as you opened up the contents, “…at least enough evidence that he was in cahoots with a–, uh, William Rawlins,” you carefully read the name out loud, “do you have any idea who that is?”

“Yeah, a bit,” he tilted his head, “he’s CIA, but not the good kind.”

Opening up another document, you skimmed through it and uttered, “…says they’re overseeing some sort of weapon development for an unsanctioned military operation.”

“A weapon? What kind?”

“Doesn’t say, it just says–…” your fingers on the mouse then suddenly froze, a small gasp too slipping from your lips as your eyes landed upon a familiar name that had haunted you for years.

“What? What did you find?” the devil shifted his stance, waiting for you to share what discovery you’d stumbled upon. But as not a single word escaped you and the terror taking over your soul became the only thing thumping in his perceptive ears, the vigilante slowly inched closer, drifting to the corner of the desk as he kneeled down beside your panicking form and softened his tone, “Shadow, what is it?”

Hyperventilating as you fought to tear your wide eyes away from the font glowing on the screen, you eventually managed to utter, “…it’s nothing,” before you rapidly pulled out the thumb drive and turned off the computer, “there’s nothing on here.”

But as you got up and tried to slip past the devil as he straightened up as well, he managed to catch your elbow, “wait–”

“Look,” you whipped back at him and lashed out, “I don’t work with anyone else, and even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t do it with you,” before you ripped yourself free of his grip and switched on your invisibility.

It was a sudden downpour which had drawn you into the random bar by the name of Josie’s for shelter. And with the dark storm that had already been brewing inside of you, since the moment you had discovered that the mission you were on had actually been bringing you right back home all along, you swiftly found yourself ordering drink after drink to try and numb the pain. Though alcohol wasn’t the wisest choice, you weren’t in a position to be picky about how you got to tend to your wounds.

When your third shot of tequila burned in your throat and the small glass slammed back down against the bar top, the front door to the establishment swung open and in flooded a jovial trio, drenched from the rain.

“Matt, you gotta promise me, man,” you overheard one of the suit-clad men say to the other one that held onto his elbow as a guide inside, the cane in his palm only resting there instead of tapping the ground, “this is the last time you were late for court.”

Slipping off her dripping coat, the blonde woman piped up as well, “I’d like to add in, not just for court, but other engagements in general as well.”

“Hey, hey, we won the case, didn’t we?” the blind man, they called Matt, replied with a playful grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind his tinted glasses, “or are we not here for celebratory drinks?”

A shiver trickled down your spine at the familiar sound of that low timbre, making you glance over your shoulder as the group crossed the room to reach the pool table towards the back of the establishment.

“Just because you can charm your way through an improvised closing argument doesn’t mean that’s how our firm’s standards should be,” you heard the floppy-haired man point out.

“Yeah, at least for the sake of our sanity,” the woman tilted her head, “I mean, this is probably the fourth time I thought Foggy was gonna have a heart attack right then and there in the courtroom.”

Shrugging off his jacket, Matt threw up his hands, “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll do better, I promise.”

“Hmm…” the man, presumably by the name of Foggy, narrowed his eyes at his friend as he reached for one of the sticks on the wall, grabbing one for the woman as well, “I’ll believe it when I see it…”

“Well, how about this for a start,” Matthew loosened his tie slightly and began to roll up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt, “I’ll pay for all of the drinks tonight, huh?”

His two pals then exchanged a playful glance and crossed their arms, before each of their eyes returned to the blind lawyer, “…make it top shelf and maybe we’ll consider it.”

The alcohol certainly didn’t help matters as you put the pieces together and promptly began to panic.

You knew who that voice belonged to…

Freezing up, it took everything in your power not to instinctively turn invisible as he wandered up to the other end of the bar and ordered a round of drinks, even trying to hold your breath till he disappeared once again with glasses in his hands.

The man behind the devil mask was a lawyer? Why was he pretending to be blind? And most importantly, why in the world was he here?

You didn’t believe in coincidences, certainly not when it came to people like you and him… the only logical explanation must have been that he had seen you come in and followed after with the intent of stealing back the thumb drive that was still burning a hole in your pocket, purely out of paranoia to leave it in your slummy apartment, so that he could push you out of the way and do the job himself.

Your terror soon melted into rage as you watched the trio from afar, silently seething as they played a game of pool, joking and laughing, the devil even playing up his cover and asking the tall blonde for assistance on finding the right angle to shoot his shot.

So by the time they began to set up for a second game, and you watched Matt excuse himself to go to the lavatory, your feet acted of their own accord as you suddenly found yourself storming across the room, and catching the bathroom door before he managed to slam it shut behind him.

Pushing your way inside, your fingers swiftly twisted the lock before pushing the object of your ire up against the tile wall.

“Why the fuck are you following me?” you snarled, your fists buried in his shirt as your heated pants fanned across his face.

“Fuck–,” a faint chuckle broke up his gasp at the impact, “I thought you’d at least let me take a leak first,” he croaked, your presence clearly not coming as a surprise to him.

“Answer the goddamn question, Daredevil,” you spat, your face inching in close to his own, “or do you prefer to be called something else, counsellor?”

“Christ, I’m not following you!” he swore, before his own hands came up and flipped you around with ease, promptly trading places and pinning you against the wall instead, “I always go to this bar, something you’d probably know if you were stalking me,” the lawyer accused.

“Oh, get over yourself!” you fumed, “I’m trying to stay away from you, not worm my way into your weird little charade of a life, which I must say, the fake blind thing is very extreme just to make people not suspicious of what you do at night.”

A scoff then bubbled in his throat, “I’m not.”

“Yeah, right,” you rolled your eyes, “there’s no way you would be able to do all of that if you were blind,” you then snatched off his tinted glasses, though instead of confirming your accusations, the brown eyes that were revealed beneath didn’t meet your own stare, promptly causing your brows to knit together in confusion.

“Well…” Matt exhaled slowly, “…sight is overrated.”

Blinking back at him a second, it took you a moment to utter, “…so your freaky senses, how you could hear my heartbeat and shit, that’s how you see?” still completely stunned by the revelation.

“That’s certainly one way to put it, yeah,” he tilted his head.

As you then felt his grip on you loosen, though he did let go, his feet didn’t shift an inch, still rooted close enough to you for goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

Letting out a low sigh, you eventually uttered as your gaze stayed locked upon him, “…I’m not giving you the thumb drive.”

“Alright,” he murmured in a calm yet cocky tone, “I’ll manage.”

“No, what I mean is that you need to drop this and let me be the one to handle it, alone,” you pointed out, a heated breath huffing out of your nostrils.

“Why?”

“Just because–… look,” you seethed, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut, “this job, it’s personal for me, okay? I don’t want you fucking it all up,” your eyes flickered open once more to glare back at him, “so please just go back out there to your little girlfriend and stay the hell out of my way.”

“The fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay away!” you hissed in a hushed tone when none other than the devil of Hell’s Kitchen snuck up on you as you lurked outside of Onyx Corp’s old headquarters, scoping out the rundown place from the shadows in hopes of finding a way inside past the guards that wandered the grounds of the abandoned building.  

“I know,” he simply answered, his tone calm as opposed to your own.

His ego truly must have been as big as you assumed, seeing as he couldn’t let himself stay out of your hair and complete the job all on your own.

And with your paranoid thoughts dragging you further down into your own personal hell, you swiftly heard yourself growl, “please, just go.”

But instead of turning on his heel, the devil just settled in against the chain-link fence, his burly arms folding across his chest.

A long sigh slipped from your lungs as you bowed your head in defeat, “I don’t have time for this… if you’re not gonna leave, then please just stay out of my way, okay? And if I can’t stop you from going in there as well, then just don’t act like an idiot around the place. They had to close down this location a few years back after a quote on quote chemical accident, but seeing as there are still a fair bit of guards posted about the perimeter, they probably haven’t found a way to safely clean it yet,” you impatiently told him, “so if you run into a blue and potent substance, do not get into contact with it, okay?”

“Aw…” a smirk then blossomed on his lips, “is that concern I hear in your voice?”

“No!” you shot him a glare, “I just don’t wanna be blamed for killing Daredevil.”

“Matt,” he suddenly corrected you.

“What?”

“My name, and the other person you would hypothetically be killing,” he leaned in slightly to utter, “Matthew Murdock.”

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you simply grumbled, “yeah, I know what your name is.”

“Then why don’t I know yours yet?”

Letting out a sigh, “I don’t have time for this…” you then switched on your powers and slipped through the nearby hole in the fence.

Though it took a bit of finesse, you managed to sneak past the various guards and into the old headquarters, the very same place where you were held captive as a child.

A chill ran down your spine as you stepped inside the musty building, and paralysing memories flashed within your mind.

“Hey, you alright?” Matthew’s voice then suddenly echoed from behind you, ripping you enough out of your terror to shift your feet across the floor once more.

Avoiding his question, you instead accused, “did you beat up those guards just to follow me in here?”

“No, they’re fine, I tried to do it your way,” you heard him say, though still couldn’t help but imagine the degrading things he stopped himself from adding, how he thought your method of doing things was surely idiotic compared to his own brutal one, “you didn’t answer my question.”

The silence in the room drew out before you finally answered him with a low sigh, “…it’s Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n,” before you strayed from his side and disappeared into the office directly to the right, swiftly tearing open the closest file cabinet before you could spot the faint smile on Matthew’s lips.

When he followed you into the room, your search went on for a while without any success before any of you uttered another word.

“So…” the devil eventually broke the silence, “tell me again why you’re looking through whatever’s left in here instead of just sneaking your way into Onyx Corp’s new building?”

“Because, firstly,” you muttered as you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “they’ve built precautions in case someone like me tries to waltz in or out of there. They’ve used those for years, whether it’s as collars to keep subjects under control or if it’s on a larger scale, devices that essentially block off entire areas,” your body tensed at the traumatic memories that still lived on under your skin, “and secondly, even if I did find a way inside, that office wouldn’t be the right one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that after this place shut down, they received too much of the wrong attention, so then, when they rebuilt, they split themselves up into separate locations. The official office, showcasing the polished front of a pharmaceutical powerhouse, and the secret lab, where they develop chemical weapons and test on innocent people, which I’ve been trying for years, but still haven’t been able to track down.”

“And so, you think that maybe the address is somewhere in here?”

“What, do you have a better idea, counsellor?” you swiftly turned to glare at him.

“I mean, I don’t have powers like you–, unless my heightened senses also triggers whatever alarm or trap or what they’ve got rigged in there,” his hand gestured alongside his words.

“It wouldn’t,” you uttered coldly and turned back to the files you were thumbing through, “you got your abilities in a–, different way than me, so you’d be fine.”

His body continued to stay twisted towards you as you soon heard him speak once more, “…how do you know so much about all of this?”

“What do you mean?” your back stayed turned to him, “I do my research for these types of things, don’t you? Or do you just go in there and swing your fists, hoping that you hit the people that deserve it?”

“I just mean that you know a lot,” his jaw clenched at your verbal jab, “your sources must be incredible.”

“They are,” you shot back at him coldly, keeping your guard up.

As the morning grew closer, and you began to run out of stones to turn, the two of you hit a dead end.

Perhaps it was your own stubbornness, straining yourself and keeping up your invisibility long enough for a migraine to begin to throb within your head, simply to somehow prove the speculated assumptions of the other vigilante wrong, but the traumatically nostalgic surroundings you still found yourself in certainly didn’t help matters either.

“Hey…” Matthew then paused and twisted towards your frame, “…you good?”

Cracking your tense neck with a sigh, you muttered, “why wouldn’t I be?”

And with a faint nod of his head, he pointed out, “you’re bleeding.”

It wasn’t till now that you felt the crimson that slowly leaked out of your left nostril, your touch swiftly drifting up to check. It wasn’t the first time that your body had complained about you straining your abilities till you were stretched too thin, but at least this time the consequences wasn’t anything you couldn’t power through, “it’s nothing…” you attempted to downplay it as you wiped the blood away, though the devil on the other side of the room didn’t stop looking concerned, “I’m fine!” you swiftly snapped, “it’s just a nosebleed. The air in here is fucking dry or whatever.”

And with a reply on the tip of his tongue, Matt instead swallowed it and simply uttered, “okay…”

But as he then turned back to continue the search, his head soon twisted before he took a sharp detour into the hallway. Directly on the other side of the threshold, he then kneeled down and picked up a small chain with some rusty dog tags dangling on the end.

Slipping off one of his gloves, he caught the metal and gently brushed his thumb over the raised letters on it.

“Y/n Y/l/n…” he read out loud, the sound of your name causing you to freeze as you turned to spot what it was that he had found. Tilting his head in your direction, the puzzle of your past began to fall into place, “you–… this really is personal for you, isn’t it?”

You’d completely forgotten that you’d lost it back in the chaos of your escape, “…they made us wear those just to be able to tell us kids apart…” you bowed your head.

Slowly rising to his feet once more, he uttered, “so this is how you got your powers? How you became Shadow? You were a test subject?”

“Well, I didn’t wish upon a fucking star…” you exhaled slowly, “…do you get it now? Why I need to be the one to take these fuckers down?”

“And here I thought I’d finally gotten rid of you,” the words left your lips as soon as you saw Matthew show up in your periphery again the very next night, “don’t you have a better way to spend your Friday night?”

A faint smile twitched at the corner of his lip as he came to a stop beside you in the dark alley, “nope.”

“Really? You’d rather be slumming it with me yet again, breaking into some CIA idiot’s home, instead of going on some hot date with your little girlfriend?”

“What?” the devil nearly laughed.

“The leggy blonde you played pool with at the bar.”

“Ah, yeah, no. Karen’s just a friend,” he shook his head as a playful smile finally broke through and bloomed on his lips, “so I’m sorry, you’re out of luck, there’s no girlfriend to spend my Friday nights with, so I guess you’re stuck with me instead.”

You climbed up onto the fire escape in order to break into Rawlins’ apartment, and though Matthew was tall enough to jump up and catch the ladder, your frame had to be boosted up, a detail you prayed he wouldn’t revel in too much.

Since the CIA agent was tangled in the mess you were trying to sort out, your mission had led you here to his home, to hunt down a keycard to gain access to the inner sanctum of the Onyx Corporation, where hopefully the answers would be within reach, even if it came at a grievous price.

The pursuit, however, for the keycard wasn’t as fruitful as you’d hoped, as it wasn’t even hidden away in the personal safe Matt cracked open in his bedroom.

And even though you had been careful and made sure the agent wouldn’t be home this night, the front door still cracked open before the two of you were able to clear out.

“Fuck–,” you scrambled a moment before you made a split decision and shoved the devil into the nearby closet as footsteps began to echo out in the hall, slipping your own body inside as well before quietly yanking the door closed behind you.

Your face stayed twisted towards the door, listening intently to the murmured voices that reverberated throughout the apartment. It wasn’t till you finally shifted your neck and looked back at Matt that you realised just how tight the closet actually was. Your body was plastered against his, standing so near that your noses nearly brushed against one another when he tilted his head to listen closely. You could feel his breath fan across your cheeks, causing them to heat up as your own pants began to pick up. In the low light, you couldn’t help but stare as he concentrated.

Your head was spinning by the time your gaze dropped to his lips. You hadn’t been this close to someone else in a very long time, and seeing as your senses were that starved, your body couldn’t help but react, which soon caught the devil’s attention, distracting you both long enough to get caught when the closet doors suddenly swung open.

It wasn’t just Rawlins that had come home early for a brief pitstop till his night continued, but a few of his military brats were waiting by the door as well, making the fight that promptly broke out a little less fair.

In the beginning of the struggle, Rawlins’ jacket flung off his shoulders as Matt tried to grab him, but as the coat crashed to the ground, his wallet tumbled out of the pocket and slid across the floor. And with the hopes that the keycard was hidden in there the whole time, you swiftly went invisible, hoping you’d be able to avoid the many opponents as you rushed to snatch it up.

But just as you managed to grab it and it flipped open to reveal the very item you needed to steal, one of the foes saw the floating wallet and tackled you to the ground, knocking the air clean out of your lungs, the blow causing you to lose your grip on both the item and your invisibility, the wallet promptly tumbling from your flickering fingers.

And when all hope seemed lost, and Rawlins had called in reinforcements, more folks storming in through the front door by the second, you felt Matthew grab you before you could even think, as there was no other option but to flee from the fight.

Bloodied and panting, it wasn’t easy to escape up onto the rooftop. In the haze of it all, you weren’t even sure how you managed it at all.

But just before you could yell at him for dragging you up onto a dead end, the devil pulled out his billy clubs, twisted one of the handles, and flung across the night sky for the cord in between to extend and the far and to tangled itself around something in the distance like a grappling hook. Wrapping his arm tightly around your waist, he didn’t offer you a warning before you both went soaring, your fretful eyes not daring to peek back open before you felt your boots land on the next rooftop over.

Your lungs burned as you kept on running, swinging from building to building till you couldn’t even spot the one you’d fled from any longer as you glanced over the glinting horizon.

“Damn it–,” you cursed when you finally slowed down to catch your breath on a rooftop, “I almost had it!”

Breathlessly, Matt only grinned at your frustration before he dripped his fingers into a pocket and uttered, “you mean this?” as he held up the keycard.

Eyes widening in disbelief, you panted, “how did you–”

“You’re not the only one who can be sneaky,” he smirked before you snatched it out of his grasp to look at it closely.

“Oh my god…” a soft smile appeared on your lips as you stared down at the small card, “I can’t believe we did it…”

“We?” Matthew’s head cocked slightly as he echoed.

A breath caught in your throat as your eyes flickered up from the keycard to blink back at him, “…maybe–, maybe, we aren’t such a bad team after all…” you admitted, tugging the card into a pocket of your black cargo pants as the man across from you on the rooftop simply smirked as you finally began to soften up, “…look…” you hesitated, your gaze averting, “…I know I said that I wanted to work alone, and I know that you hate me, but–”

“Hold up,” Matt swiftly interrupted, “you think I hate you?”

Glancing up towards the stars above, your arms briefly raised in an exhausted shrug, “well, what other explanation is there?”

But instead of answering you, Matt instead just stood there for a second, before he slowly closed the distance between you both, grabbed your face and leaned in to press his lips against your own.

You were nearly too stunned to react as he stole your breath away. It wasn’t till he pulled back slightly and the whole city froze for a moment around you, his palms still cradling your jaw as you blinked up at him, that you finally found your footing.

And when you raised yourself back up to kiss him once again, your touch drifting up to rest against his bent arms, you felt his lips smile against your own.

The simple kiss, however, swiftly spun out of control.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline that still pumped in your veins from the fight that was to blame for when it exploded, and you found yourself pushing Matt up against the nearby brick wall as you made out.

Perhaps it was your loneliness that was at fault, as you eagerly let him pluck your body up off the ground, and your thighs wrapped around his hips, a faint whimper crawling up your throat and vibrating against Matt’s tongue as your core pressed against him, your throbbing cunt promptly clenching around nothing as his gloved grip dug into your ass and drew you even closer to his growing hardness.

It had been ages since you’d been touched like this, so naturally it would have probably felt this amazing no matter who it was that satisfied that deprived urge… right?

Your hips rocked down against his own as you made out, his hold on you too grinding your core feverishly against his. As he twisted around for your spine to now instead be pressed up against the brick, your fingers grasped his stubbly jaw and hazily strayed up to claw against the sides of his helmet.

Soon you were both so riled up, the sloppy kisses and heavy petting only scratching the itch just enough to drive you mad, your fingers desperately shot down between your bodies to reach the tent in his pants. Straying from your lips, the devil let out a low groan as your palm brushed against his hardness in your frantic mission to free it. Bowing your head, your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to tug at his belt without much success, but luckily, before a pout could find your lips, Matthew got the message and readjusted his grip on you, balancing you with just a single arm, as his free one reached down to undo his pants for you, his swift fingers flicking open the complicated suit effortlessly.

That same wide palm then drifted up to brush against your blushing cheek as you let yourself blink down at the fat cock that sprang out, your mouth agape as your impatient fingers wrapped around the girth, though you only got to gawk a second longer before he tilted your chin and reunited his lips with your own.

“Fuck,” he panted into your mouth as your touch slowly twisted up and down his throbbing length. Dropping his hand back down near his other beneath your ass, he shifted his grip on you, juggling you like a toy in his grasp, to let himself nearly tear your black pants in two as he ripped them down just barely low enough for your soaked panties to be revealed.

Though as he yanked that drenched cotton to the side, before he even got the chance to touch you at all, you tilted his cock in your grasp, angling it for the tip of him to slide against you instead.

But even as you began to rub his head against your clit, his own palm didn’t stray yet, but instead rested over your own as your dripping pussy soaked him, and didn’t wander till your patterns grew more zealous, angling further south to your drooling hole. And as you rubbed him against your entrance, his gloved fingers dragged over your puffy pearl, though only for a moment before soaring up to his lips, his teeth hastily tearing the one glove off and letting it drop to the ground beneath you, for his touch to then reunite with you without any barrier.

“Oh my god,” your eyes fluttered as he drew slow, firm circles over you, “don’t stop–”

Bowing his head to kiss along your neck, a devilish smirk flashed across his face, “yeah? You like that, Shadow?” he let himself revel in your euphoria.

“Shut up,” a whine vibrated in your throat, “just don’t stop,” you mumbled as you then slipped the very tip of him inside of you.

A breathless moan escaped the both of you when your warm walls finally clung around him. Re-adjusting your grasp on his broad shoulders, joining your hand with the one still locked around his neck, his fingers continued the careful pattern over your clit as you slowly, and shallowly, began to lower yourself down upon him. Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt his forehead tilt back up to rest against your own, panting into each other’s mouths as you gradually stretched yourself out on his cock.

He didn’t stop touching you till you were whimpering in his arms and trying to bounce on his dick. Your legs trembled on either side of him as he then dug his grasp into the plush of your ass and began to move you, his own hips too bucking up to meet the desperate movements as he fucked you.

It was all just a haze of heated pants, curses and moans melting and mixing with the wet, sloppy noises of his cock splitting you open, with the night noises of the city around you only a mere memory in the background.

Not long passed before you came undone on his fat cock, your powers momentarily flickering as you writhed in his arms, and your cunt fluttered around his girth, pushing him over the edge as well.

His face stayed buried in the crook of your neck, catching his breath, as you both stayed frozen in each other’s arms, your poor pussy nearly choking him to death as his cock remained inside of you, but neither one of you dared to speak or even move an inch.

But when you finally did, it was slow as you began to peel yourselves away from one another. He began by carefully lowering your one leg, though as it shakily reunited with the flat rooftop below, you failed to stifle a groan as his cock slipped out of you.

You could barely look at him as you realised the line you’d just crossed, or more like set on fucking fire, silently panicking as you scrambled to cover back up.

Tugging your panties back over your messy pussy, you promptly clenched around nothing as you felt his hot load begin to leak out of you and ruin your underwear even further.

And when a hesitant squeak finally found its way to your lips, “that–…” your eyes stayed averted, even as your words faded.

Tilting his head, a smirk bloomed on Matt’s face, “yeah?” he uttered as the single word that had bubbled up your throat hadn’t yet made him doubt the rest of your pending sentence.

“…was such a mistake…” you apprehensively finished, eyes still glued to the ground, “we can’t–… we can’t let it happen again.”

Sucking in a sharp breath as his smile faded from his lips, on his exhale, Matt murmured, “…right…you beat me to it…”

“I mean,” you finally glanced up at the man in front of you, “it was just the adrenaline of it all that got to us,” your head nodded slowly as you tried to convince yourself.

“Mhm,” he hesitantly hummed, barely moving at all as he listened.

“So, we should just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His broad chest then shifted slowly beneath his suit as his lungs filled up with oxygen, letting your words settle in his soul before he agreed with a quiet, “…okay.”

“Get up.”

Arms crossed tightly over your chest, your invisibility faded just as you kicked the bedframe.

“What the–,” Matt swiftly shot awake, the slumber still muddled on his face as he initially jerked in alarm till he realised who exactly it was that had snuck into his apartment, “what are you doing here?”

But instead of answering his question, you just huffed impatiently, “we gotta go, come on.”

“Wha–,” he pushed himself up to a sitting position, “what time is it?”

“Four in the morning,” you briefly glanced down at the watch on your wrist, “which means we’re already running late, so let’s go.”

Letting out a low exhale, “okay…” he tore off the covers and begrudgingly swung his legs over the side of the bed, “is it a surprise or are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

Standing a little taller, you informed him in a clear tone, “I got a lead,” and tried your best to ignore his state of undress, how, even in the low light pouring in from the windows, you could make out the scars starched across his bare chest, one even dipping down below the black boxers that clung around his hips.

But his expression didn’t perk up at your news as his dark brows only furrowed faintly, “…you know you could have just called me about this, right?”

“Didn’t have your number,” you shrugged. Tearing your eyes away from him, you ripped open your dark backpack, “put this on,” you ordered after you’d tossed a faded blue uniform at him.

“Uhh… no thanks?” he cocked an eyebrow as he peeled it off of his shoulder where it had landed and held it in his palm, “I’ve got my own clothes, ones that don’t reek of industrial cleaning products.”

Exhaling sharply, your jaw clenched, “look, I know that you just woke up, but some of us haven’t slept at all yet and have instead stayed up just to string this whole plan together,” you fished out a white undershirt as well for him.

“And are you gonna share it with me or what?” he asked before being hit in the face with the tank top.

“I will when you put that fucking uniform on,” your hands landed on your hips as you waited a tense moment before he rolled his eyes pettily, yet finally complied. And as you watched him change right in front of you instead of shifting to somewhere more private, you began to tell him, “every morning at five, the janitorial staff at Onyx Corp shows up for work. One of said staff members is now missing a uniform, and has magically had their schedule tampered with, giving them a day off,” you tilted your head, “so you’re gonna show up instead, slip in with the crowd, use the keycard, sneak into the CEO, Richard Weiss’ office and steal his personal laptop. All the info we’re missing should be on that thing.”

“Okay…” he drew out a breath as he moulded over your plan, “or, I mean, I’m a lawyer, why couldn’t I just walk in there as myself, make up some legal bullshit or something–, ouch!” his offhand suggestion halted as you promptly smacked his shoulder.

“And have you then be added to their radar for sniffing where you shouldn’t, have them hunt you down till you’re dead? Believe it or not, I am trying to protect you, you idiot,” you growled as you plucked the last few items out of your bag, a baseball cap and a pair of plain sunglasses, and shoved them into his lap, “so could you at least not be a fucking dumbass about it and just say thank you?”

The sun was slowly rising as you sat, cloaked by your powers, on the roof of the opposing building to the Onyx Corporation’s official headquarters, and watched from afar as Matthew successfully slipped inside among the small morning crowd of workers.

The large structure in the middle of the city was mostly made up of wide windowpanes, making it easier for you to track the disguised lawyer as he made his way through the fishbowl, although it still didn’t help calm the terror that wrecked your body.

Being this close was frankly one of the most reckless things you’d ever done. If anyone saw you, if you let your invisibility so much as just flicker, you’d be a dead woman.

But when you saw Matthew inside covertly reach his destination, the keycard working as he slipped inside of the CEO’s office, when the laptop was under his arm and he pushed the door open once more to exit, a pair of guards caught him red-handed and a fight promptly broke out.

Your hope, however, faded rapidly as it didn’t take long before more security was alerted and piled on the vigilante. But even then, you still tried to stay optimistic, having witnessed first-hand the dreadful messes Daredevil was capable of getting out of on his own.

But when his form was pinned to the ground by enough people that he stood no chance, and the door on the opposite end of the floor swung open, revealing the bone-chilling visage of the boss himself, slowly marching down to the wreckage on full display through the agape doors of his office, you were then left with no choice on what to do next.

You held onto your invisibility for as long as possible, but after you’d only taken a few steps inside of the building, a sharp and sudden pain began to throb within your head, drawing a groan from your trembling body as you tried not to scream as it nearly felt like something was trying to crush your skull, your powers promptly began to flicker.

Trying to fight against it and somehow attempt to keep your cloaking up, it kept on flickering as you rushed to the stairwell.

You were panting and dizzy by the time you reached the top, though it wasn’t because of the numerous steps. Blood trickling out of your nose, your hand shook violently as you reached for the doorknob, your eyes landing on it as your powers kept on flashing, and you waited till your palm disappeared once more, hopefully timing it just right as you pushed the door open to dip into the hallway and enter the chaos.

Passing the janitorial cart he had pushed around to keep up his cover, your hands swiftly seized the mop that stuck out of it, and as your stomping feet dragged you closer to the fray, you swung the mop like a golf club, striking the guards pinning Matt to the floor.

Though, as you freed him, the long handle of the mop splintering in the process, your powers faltered once more, revealing your form to everyone in the office, including the very man who had once fooled the innocent little orphanage you used to be, condemning you to an adolescence of torture, the one and only, Richard Weiss, head of Onyx Corps.

“Well… if it isn’t our little Shadow, come back home at last…” he nearly chuckled as his stare held you frozen in terror, “should have known you were the troublemaker behind all of this.”

And though Matthew’s fists began to swing again as soon as he was able, it didn’t take long for him to conclude that you were severely outnumbered. It didn’t matter that the laptop wasn’t in the possession of either of you, at this point, your lives mattered more.

But when Matt’s attempts failed, you decided to try something, even though you were barely hanging on any longer, it was almost like an instinct kicked in and you grabbed Matthew’s hand in yours, somehow turning him invisible as well, just long enough for your initial escape to become possible.

But as soon as you got out of dodge, slipping into the elevator, you let go of his wide palm and your powers flickered out once more.

Both of you were panting and hunched over as Matthew stayed busy, reached over to hit the emergency button, stopping the elevator, before his body elongated, briefly jumping up to pop open the latch at the top.

It wasn’t till his fingers laced together and he waited for you to bend your knee and let him boost you up first, that he slowed down enough to notice just how beaten you were.

Though you had previously experienced these waves in the more compact package of the collars Onyx Corp used to control their test subjects with, it was something else entirely to try and be submerged inside an area protected by the same rays, and on top of that, attempting to fight against it, torturing your body that much further.

There wasn’t just blood dripping out of your nose, but your ears, the corner of your mouth, and even your eyes as well.

“Y/n, are you–,” worry twisted Matthew’s low timbre in a way you didn’t think possible.

“I’m fine,” you tried to dismiss through your pained whimper, “I just need to catch my breath,” you clutched the steel wall, “you go up first, I’m right behind you.”

Although he hesitated a moment, he eventually did as you wished, pulling himself up through the narrow latch and groaning lowly as the strain tore at the injuries he himself had sustained. But when his arm shot back down to pull you up as well, your body finally gave out when he’d lifted you up to join him in the elevator shaft, and the world faded to black.

It was full daylight by the time you stirred, though you weren’t on the roof of the elevator any longer, not even inside that horrific building anymore, as it finally felt as if you were able to breathe again. It was instead Matthew’s apartment that met your hazy gaze as soon as your eyes fluttered open.

Squinting a moment at the bright light pouring in through the tall windows, you realised that you were lying in his bed, the very same one he had been resting in when you’d disrupted his slumber earlier that day.

For a moment, you thought you were all alone till your neck twisted to the right and you saw the man further into the depths of the apartment, sitting at the humble dining table. He was shirtless, with only the glint of a cross necklace resting against his pecs as he patched himself up. And as you felt yourself begin to breathe more easy at the discovery that you hadn’t woken up to any imminent danger, you let yourself relax, and for a flash, stare at Matthew before any of your guards could shoot up and hinder you from taking in the vision his half-naked and bloodied form, quietly groaning as he concentrated on his stitches, the whole display making your heart beat louder, though not in your chest, but between your thighs.  

Tilting his head suddenly, the needle in Matt’s fingers paused as he noticed you were finally awake, “hey,” a soft smile appeared on his lips.

“What happened?” you asked weakly in a hoarse tone.  

“You passed out,” he paused his patching up, carefully tearing the thread on the needle before he had finished all of the stitches.

“I did?” your brows furrowed as you tried to recall, hazily attempting to sit up, only realising now that you were still clad in the same black, utilitarian outfit as before, blood-soaked and torn from the fight.

“Whoa, whoa, no,” Matt hastily rushed to your side, “your stubborn ass essentially just tried to power your way through a meatgrinder, so lay back down.”

“God, I’m fine,” you tried to push away his palms as they came to rest against your shoulders.

“No, you’re not,” he uttered firmly.

“Matt–”

“Jesus! Would you just shut up for a second and let me help you?”

Your eyes snapped up to his worried expression as he raised his voice, and you finally gave in, carefully lowering back down upon the pillow.

Blinking up at him a moment as his broad, bare shoulders relaxed once more, his feet staying glued beside the bedframe as he loomed above your horizontal form, you then asked, “how did I get out of there?”

Drawing in a breath, he shared, “well, I carried you,” as if it was the obvious answer.

“You should have just left me,” your head began to shake faintly as you squeezed your eyes shut, “it would have been safer if you were–”

“You risked your life coming in to save me,” he interrupted you, “so this just makes us even.”

Eyes fluttering back open, your chest slowly rose and fell as you simply stared up at him for a moment, completely lost for words as he continued to stand by your side.

And when he finally broke the silence, it was to utter, “it’s mostly bruises you’ve got, but there is a cut on your shoulder,” his chin tilted in the direction of that side, “I tried to just keep it wrapped while you were unconscious, but I should probably stitch it up for you.”

Nodding slowly as your stare stayed on him instead of straying to the bloodied dish towel tied around your side, you murmured, “okay…”

Once he’d helped you sit back up, he only disappeared into the living room for a moment to grab the first aid kit, your own fingers slowly unlacing your boots and dropping them to the floor, before he returned to your side and planted himself on the edge of the mattress.

A sharp hiss escaped you when you tried to peel your long-sleeved top off. But your movement paused when the hem reached your ribs as you felt Matthew’s palms suddenly land atop your own, silently asking you for permission to help. Instead of uttering a word, you simply let your own hands slip out from under his touch, letting him take over and slowly pull the shirt over your head, leaving you in just pants and a sports bra.

Your breathing was ragged as you simply stared at him the whole time he tended to your wound, and by the time that he finished, the silence continued to draw out, growing thick in the air between you both, as neither of you dared to move a muscle.

“…you should try and get some rest,” he eventually uttered, nearly in a whisper.

“Right…” you exhaled and finally tore your gaze away from him to glance down at the remanence of your clothing, not exactly comfortable against your skin, “…do you maybe have a shirt or something that I could borrow?”

“Sure,” he breathed, then got up to open his closet, plucked out a t-shirt and handed it to you, “here.”

“Thanks,” you grasped the soft cotton, bowing your head to glance down at it.

And as you simply stared at it a moment without shifting to put it on, “do you–…” Matt hesitantly offered, “do you need a hand?”

“I–…” you let out a sigh, flirting momentarily with the idea of your usual tough shell, but fortunately, you were so exhausted that you couldn’t resist, “…okay.”

His touch was like fire as it ghosted across your skin, making your pussy throb between your thighs as he carefully helped you first out of the black pants, slowly tugging them down your legs, before he pulled the tight sports bra off, your own breath hitching as your soft tits dropped from the confines. Matt tried to stay strong as he lastly helped you into the borrowed shirt, swallowing hard before he finally let go of you, even though that was the very last thing he yearned to do.

When you layed back down under his covers, you couldn’t fall back asleep even though your body was screaming for the rest, your stare instead staying glued on the lawyer as he returned to the living room and went back to patching himself up.

It was then that it hit you what that feeling that fluttered within you truly was.

You felt safe.

For the first time in forever.

With him by your side, you felt safe.

It was evening by the time that you woke up again, the sun once more setting, dipping down below the towering buildings outside.

“You okay?” you heard Matthew’s voice and twisted gently in the sheets to find him sitting on the couch just on the other side of the open sliding door, leaned over the coffee table and going through some stuff.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you curled onto your side to face him more, your knees bending up towards your chest.

“Well…” he exhaled slowly and let the papers in his hand drop to the rest on the tabletop below him, “since we didn’t get the laptop, I’m trying to find another way to locate that lab.”

Tears then welled up in your eyes and thickened the words in your throat as the level of just how much he cared came as a surprise to you, “any success?”

“Uh, maybe. There is this one scientist who worked there, but he was arrested for something else,” he clicked his tongue, “currently sitting pretty in prison.”

“Wait, are you saying–,” you caught onto what he was hinting at, “do you wanna go in there and pretend to be his lawyer? Do you think that’d work?”

“Well, if reasoning with him doesn’t work, then I can always just let the devil out, see if that’ll loosen his lips.”

Staring at him in pure and unadulterated amazement, the tears in your eyes escaped with a small sob and began to roll down your cheeks.

“Hey,” he promptly darted to your side, sitting down on the bed beside you, “what’s wrong? Is it–, do you not want me to go? I’m sorry, I–”

Shaking your head, you sniffled, “no, it’s not that–”

“Have you changed your mind?” he tilted his head as you then pushed yourself up to a sitting position next to him, “you wanna go back to being a lone wolf? Because not that I don’t believe you’re strong enough to take these people on all on your own, you are, you really are, but I just–… I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” he choked on his words, “so please. Please let me help. Let me–, let us work together. Make these people pay for everything they’ve done. Everything they’ve done to you…”

Sucking in a breath, you stared back at him, unable to find the words, before you felt your spine begin to slant forward as you let your forehead simply rest against his own.

“…Matt–…” your voice was barely a whisper as finally filled out the sparse space between you both, “…you’re the first person that I can’t hide from… and not just because you can sense me even when I’m invisible, but you see me…” another tear escaped the corner of your eye, “…truly see me…” you then felt him grab your cheek, your glossy eyes briefly fluttering closed at the contact, “I’ve never–…” you blinked back at him again, panting as your gaze then dropped to his lips, “…you–…” you felt him slowly begin to drag you closer, but just as the tip of your nose brushed against his own, your eyes squeezed shut as you whispered once more, “we shouldn’t…”

“Why not?” he breathed, his wide palm remaining against your cheek as his fingertip slowly stretched up into your hairline.  

“Matt…” you exhaled, but instinctively leaned into his touch.

“Don’t you want to?” he croaked hazily, “doesn’t it kill you too, this thing between us?” a fresh blubber of tears sprang forth from you as his words struck true, “I know it’s not just me, I know… I can feel the way your breath hitches when you look at me… I can hear the way your pulse picks up when I’m near… like a fucking drum between your legs…” his nose twitched gently as he nearly growled.

“…still doesn’t mean we should give in to it…” you whispered, “…Matthew, I–… these people have been after me for most of my life. I can’t risk putting anyone else in danger simply for caring about them,” your tearful eyes blinked back at him, “I know first-hand what they do to someone, someone like us. I can’t let you go through that as well.”

Letting his grip glide into your hair completely, he let your words sink in before he eventually uttered, “…if it means having you, then that’s a risk I’d be willing to take…”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, slightly doubting whether you’d heard him correctly, before something inside of you finally unravelled and you leaned in to press your lips against his own.

It was slow yet rumbling with passion. His thumb gently wiped away the last few tears that rolled down your cheeks before the kiss faded into small, unhurried pecks. Your palm floated up to caress his burly forearm as he continued to cradle your face, drawing out the kisses for as long as possible.

Soon, your limbs were tangled around one another, hugging each other’s forms as your lips stayed locked, occasionally pausing for a breath to let a gentle smile take over.

But when you felt as if you still weren’t close enough to him, you found yourself carefully crawling into his lap, a shift he couldn’t help but aid as his arms around you tightened and he drew you in flush against him, your thighs on either side of his hips on the edge of the bed.

But it still didn’t scratch the itch enough, leading your breath to grow ragged as your fingers tangled in his shirt and your lips wandered down the side of his neck.

“Are you–…” he breathed heavy as you kissed along his throat, his fingers instinctively denting low on your hips, “what can I–, what do you need?”

A sly smirk then bloomed on your lips as you kept on kissing his skin, “you really gonna sit here and claim that you don’t know what I need right now?” a faint giggle escaped you as even you had already noticed the dull throbbing between your thighs that was nearly making you drool.

“No, I mean–, are you feeling better?” his grip on you tightened as he tried to keep cool and hold onto the fact of all the trauma your body had just sustained.

That made you pull back a bit as a gentle smile lit up your face, “yeah,” you uttered warmly, “I’m not a hundred per cent yet, probably won’t be for a while, but the sleep really helped.”

“And how about your shoulder?” he cocked his head, gesturing faintly towards it.

“It’s fine,” you breathed, “I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” you then saw as Matt mirrored your smile before he dipped back in to steal another kiss. But then, as the brief break had cleared enough of your fog as well, you cut the peck short before your mind could get cloudy again, “wait, but what about you?” you realised, and glanced to his injuries, only some of them not covered by his t-shirt, “you got way more banged up than me.”

“Oh,” he continued to grin, “I’m just fine,” he told you as he then slowly leaned in.

“You sure?” you asked, your lips curling into a smile as he continued to slant closer.

“Well, I mean,” he tilted his head as he smirked, “I could be better…” he then began to plant a trail of slow pecks all along the length of your neck.

“Oh yeah?” a breathy chuckle escaped you.

“Yeah…” his palms caught your cheeks as his lips travelled up your throat till they were pressing against your face once more, “there might be something you could do to help…”

And as you then playfully slipped your arm down between your forms to reach for the hardness that had been nudging you, “…something like this?” you grinned as you palmed the tent in his pants.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his head tilting upwards to share your breath, “yeah, exactly something like that…” he smiled as well before he collided his lips with yours once again.

His broad palms coasted all along the shape of your frame, finally letting himself touch you the way that he had yearned for, all of his thoughtful reservations dropped to the floor, just like his tight t-shirt, as you soon peeled it over his head, your heated kiss only pausing a moment before you both dove right back in.

You gasped against his lips as his wide hands strayed from their kneading of your soft ass, for his fingertips to stretch down over the cotton of your panties, reaching between your legs and teasingly brushing over the soaked fabric. As he pressed down harder, rolling your clit through the material, your hand flexed against his hardness.   

“God, I wanna taste you so fucking bad…” he then panted against your lips as you wiggled down into his touch, “can I? Please?”

Breathlessly pulling back to let your hazy eyes sweep across his face, your head tilted in a faint nod, “o-okay,” before a grin then flashed across Matt’s face and his burly arms tightened around your frame, taking you with him as he flipped you around and layed you down on the mattress.

Still slotted between your thighs, Matthew only loomed above you for a moment before he sank down to kneel on the floor beside the bed. Catching your hips, he yanked you closer to the edge, drawing out a giggly yelp from your lungs.

Peeping down at him, your chest rose and fell rapidly as he slowly peeled your panties down your legs, webs of your want briefly clinging to the cotton as it was torn away from your drooling pussy, before the glinting strings snapped back against your throbbing core.

“Holy–, fuck!” you gasped as he buried his face between your legs, his sweet tongue dragging through your wet folds, tracing your clit before it slipped down to lap up the nectar leaking out of you, groaning against your heat as his nose nudged against your puffy pearl.

His grip dented your waist as his mouth tilted back up to overwhelm your clit, the borrowed t-shirt you still wore bunching up beneath his fingers.

The man was eating you out as if it were his last day on earth, his facial hair rubbing your poor pussy raw as you wiggled beneath him, dizzy against the sheets as one of his hands glided down between your quivering legs.

For a moment, the tips of his fingers traced slow circles over your entrance, before one of them then eased inside, just to the second knuckle, gradually opening you up for him.

By the time your cunt was clenching around two of his digits, sunk deeper inside of you than your own touch could ever reach, your arm fluttered down to tremble against his palm that still remained splayed against your abdomen. You clawed at his skin till he flipped his hand around and clutched your own tight, his broad thumb briefly brushing over your knuckles as you moaned beneath him.

But as you felt yourself near the edge, you lifted your head just an inch above the sheets and cast your hazy gaze down to the man blissful between your legs.

Even though this was more than you could ever dream of, there was something else in this moment that your soul was screaming for.

Letting out a whimper, your other hand shot down to tangle in his dark hair right before you gasped, “wait–, stop–,” and his mouth let go of you with a pop, “come here,” you whispered breathlessly as your fingers let go of his locks, and you caught onto the cross necklace dangling from his neck. Pulling on it as if it was a leash, you dragged him till he was hovering above your splayed-out form, and his lips came crashing into yours.

The entire lower half of his face was soaked in your juices, making you mewl against his tongue as you tasted yourself on him.

“Please fuck me,” you panted when you finally parted from the sloppy kiss, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Yeah?” Matthew smirked above you, his fingers catching the hem of your shirt, “you need me inside of you?” he tilted his chin as he dragged the last shred of clothing over your head and flung it onto the floor.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded as you foggily reached down to fumble with his pants, but before you could manage to undo them, his own fingers nimbly took over.

“You wanna feel me stretch you out again?” he grunted, your eyes fluttering as you watched his heavy cock spring forth and slap him in the abdomen.

Your head was spinning as he then suddenly flipped you around, manhandling and moulding you beneath him till he had you bent over the mattress, your legs now dangling off the side of his bed next to where his own stood rooted, “Matt–”

“You wanna cum on my cock?” he finished pushing his pants off completely and you twisted your neck to catch a glimpse of him behind you.

“Y-yes!” you slurred breathlessly, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt him tap the weight of himself against your soft pussy, your drool nearly dripping down over him like honey before he finally nudged at your opening and the tip of his dick slipped inside, “oh fuck–”

“Oh my god…” he groaned as he gradually split you open on his fat girth, “of course you somehow feel even fucking better than I remembered…” his upper body melted down over you, his glinting necklace tickling your skin before his soft lips pressed against your spine, “so fucking wet and warm… you’re fucking perfect…”

You were grabbing the sheets by the time his thrusts had gained such ferocity that his heavy balls were smacking against your throbbing clit each time he bottomed out within you, making you whimper rhythmically beneath him with each maddening buck.

Slipping his hand beneath your chin, he tilted your face up towards his own, arching your back for him to steal a messy kiss from your lips, though he held you captive there a moment longer afterwards, letting you blink up at him as each time his hips snapped against your ass, it made it harder and harder for you to keep your eyes open.

That first orgasm hit you like a freight train, after you’d initially denied yourself of the ecstasy, it only rocked you that much more fiercely when you finally let it, your powers flickering as you lost control, turning your body transparent a dozen times in your swift descent as you came crashing down against the mattress.

Before you’d caught your breath, Matthew gently flipped you back around and scooted your frame further up upon the bed as he joined you as well.

Your legs clung against his hips as he crawled above you, and you felt his arms curl around and beneath your form, hugging you close as his cock throbbed against your pussy.

And as you briefly reached down to slip his length, glistening and covered in your cream, back inside, he continued to let himself finally hold onto you for dear life as he nearly fucked you straight through the mattress in maddeningly slow and deep strokes.

“O-oh, Matt,” you whimpered, his forehead resting against your own as your mouth stayed agape in a silent gasp, completely lost in him.

Nudging your legs to part further for him, you then heard him command, “play with that pussy for me,” in a similar, dark grunt as when the devil mask was obscuring half of his face. But when his words washed over your dazed form and sent a shiver down your spine, he ghosted his lips against your own as your hands stayed locked around his neck, “earth to Shadow…”

“Huh?” you sluggishly blinked back up at his brown eyes.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

Head spinning, you gasped, “uhm, uh-huh,” and nodded hazily, your nose nudging against his own, though your fingers still didn’t spring to life yet.

“Then go on,” he chuckled breathlessly at the state he had put you in, “make that pretty pussy cum on my cock one more time.”

Your eyes soon rolled in your skull as you then rubbed your puffy pearl raw and cried out beneath him as you tumbled over the edge once again. Your cunt choked his girth so fiercely that he couldn’t help but promptly cum as well, his dick twitching inside of you as you milked him of all of his worth.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before either of you finally moved, but you nearly managed to fall asleep while his cock was still splitting you open and his load was slowly leaking onto the sheets.

But when you eventually settled into Matthew’s side and your weary stare blinked up at his serene features, you found yourself whispering into the night, “…you really think we can do this?”

Twisting his head slightly, he uttered, “what? Take down Onyx Corp,” his arm around you tightening slightly at your lasting gloom, “or be together?”

Drawing in a breath, you averted your gaze as you admitted dimly, “both.”

Lying still a second, you then felt him shift beside you, snaking his grip around your frame before he then dragged you closer till you were splayed out directly on top of his chest. Gliding his touch up to catch your face, he waited for your stare to return to him before he uttered, “…I think that together, we can do anything.”

“Are you sure you’re packed?” Harry asked, looking over at you. “Got everything you need?” 

“Yes,” you answered. “Thanks to you.” 

He chuckled and nodded, leading you through the airport with both hands holding both of your luggages. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was such a gentleman, making sure he held the doors open for you first, holding your bags so that you could walk freely, but you didn’t expect how it made you feel. 

Even as he led you through the airport, Harry walked like he owned the entire place. With so many eyes on him, he kept his own either focused ahead of him or on you. It made you feel kind of special. 

“And flying? You gonna be okay?” He asked. 

“Too late to be asking me that. Should’ve thought that before you asked me to be your pretend girlfriend,” you teased. 

“It’s a long flight.”

“And I know you put us in first class, so I’ll be fine.” 

Harry sighed. “Okay, just let me know if there’s anything I can do.” 

“Oh, I see,” you said, arms crossed over your chest as you both were now checking in. “You’re nervous.” 

“Of course I’m nervous. I’m lying to my family.” 

“Could end it before you even get on that plane,” you suggested. “But I’m keeping the clothes.” 

He scoffed. “I’m not ending it. I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure? Because we’re not even there yet and you’re already stressed.” 

Harry sighed. “I’m fine.” 

You leaned in and whispered quietly, “maybe we should join the mile high club. I’m sure that’d ease some stress.” 

His eyes narrowed as he pulled back to look down at you. “You’re enjoying this.” 

“I am.” You watched him check in your luggages before taking your hand and leading you through the airport once again. “I promise I’ll behave once we’re with your family. I just gotta let it all out now.” 

He looked at you and tugged you to his side, his arm snaking around your waist protectively. 

“You better.” 

“Or what?” 

His eyes narrowed. “You know what.” 

You smiled. “See, you want me bad too.” 

“Don’t I always?” 

You laughed and leaned against him, arm looping around his lower back too.