Bea °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“That’s why we need’ta hit a lick here.” He chuckled and fixed their maintenance uniforms.

“I could’ve done this alone.” James sneered at his brother’s touch and pulled away. You’re too ambitious, it’s reckless. The man thought.

“Alone? No, no.” Frankie shook his head and gave James a clipboard. “Mind taking off those gloves? You’re drawin’ attention.”

“I’m not going door to door with bloody knuckles, Frankie.”

“Whatever, you’ll do the talking, Jimmy. I’ll give them these.” He flashed a stack of sketchy business cards.

“I’m telling you: those won’t work on people who have brains, Frankie.” He pressed a finger to his temple to emphasize his point.

“I already put them in the mailboxes down this block the other day.”

“…that’s fucked.” James whispered as they walked up the steps to a well-kept Tuscan-style home. It was large, very large, and the two Porshe’s in the driveway only made James more nervous. The front door was ajar, and the two men could hear dogs barking. “Frankie, I’gotta bad feeling about this.”

“Relax, fuck, you’re making me tense, Jimmy.” Frankie knocked on the door and James pressed the hat lower on his face. A feminine voice loudly scolded the barking dogs, some words foreign, as they listened from the door. “Spicy.” Frankie wiggled his brow.

“Shut up.” James quickly said before the door was pulled open by your hand.

You flipped your hair, an annoyed look on your beautiful face.  A small and well taken care of puppy in the tuck of your left arm. “Can you read?” The two men stared blankly at you. Tan lines lay on your skin, a slight redness to your features as dark curls dressed your shoulders and framed your face. You raised a pink nail to the sign by the door. ‘NO SOLICITING’ “So, can you read?”

“Listen—” Upon hearing the immediate lust (masked by attitude) from his brother’s mouth, James interrupted him---

“We are with Ace plumbing and,” He stuttered and looked down at the clipboard in his hands. “We were called out here to, uhm,” He shut his eyes to avoid the sight of your swerving curves and perfect features. “To fix the dishwasher and two clogged sinks!”

“Eh? How did you…” The obedient dog in your arms looked up at you, “Grandmama!” You yelled into the house; two large dogs began to bark again at the sound of your voice. “Did you call these men here?!” You got no answer back from the old woman and figured she was sleeping. “Whatever, come in.” You waved your hand and the two stepped inside.

“Did you say grandmother?” Frankie asked without thinking as he admired the luxurious home. James flared his nose and nudged his brother behind your back.

“Yes, she’s forgetful, Mama.” You said with a sigh as you guided them to the kitchen. “There. The dishwasher and first sink. The other is in my bathroom---” Interrupted by barking, you turned to the disobedient great Danes, “Shut up!” Two great Danes of tall stature stopped their barking and the room fell silent. You let the dogs out into the backyard with a curse under your breath.

“Miss, we’ll get started down here.” James said quickly. You held your hip as James lowered under the sink. His shirt rode up some as he assessed the clog; dark hair crowded his midsection.

“Right away.” Frankie salutes two fingers from his temple.

You left the men to their work and wandered up the wide staircase. James immediately rose up, whispering firmly. “You’re lucky I know what the hell I’m doing!” Frankie rolled his eyes and pressed a piece of gum onto his own tongue. “Be useful. Get the tools from the truck.”

“Alright, boss.” He muttered and left the house but not before taking an expensive looking candle holder into his pockets.

James checked the inside of the dishwasher and noticed how it connected to your sink’s garbage disposal. However, it was connected to another that filtered out food from the opposite end. “Shit.” If I fuck up this job, I’ll be in debt. This damn thing is expensive.

“What’s the matter?” You asked as you leaned over his shoulder. James jumped like a frightened pet and kept himself from touching you in any way. “Did I scare you?”

“Kinda.” His voice cracked as he rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Uhm, it should be an easy job. My partner is just getting our tools…”

“Right.” Your judgmental stare was enough to make him sweat. Could you tell their real intentions here? Even so, was it enough for you to call the cops? Would you? “How long do you think this will take?” You were close enough for him to inhale the sweet vanilla scent from your neck, maybe incense too; something from the West indies perhaps. In those wedges, you’re taller than him, your glistening eyes bore into his.

“Maybe an hour, give or take.”

“I don’t like your partner.” Frankie struts into the kitchen with the toolbox, unaware of your comment.

“Frankie? Why? He’s a good guy.” He looks between you and his brother.

“He took something of mine.” Frankie paused and gulped, “Didn’t you?” You lifted your phone. “It’s the twenty-first century. Assume everyone has security cameras.” The two were quiet before James broke the silence.

“I’m so sorry for his behavior! I’ll fire him right now, is that what you want? I’ll drag him out myself.” He spoke quickly to keep from choking his brother.

“Are you his boss? How do I know you’re any different?”

“I’m nothing like him!” James quickly defended himself; Frankie bit the inside of his cheek as the words left his brother’s mouth. His chest throbbed with the pressure of his beating heart. You could have them both sent to jail for this, if not worse for conspiracy. “Please. Let me stay. I can finish this and be out of your hair.” (Your beautiful hair that smells like flowers he’d never laid his eyes on before.)Even if he couldn’t steal anything from your house, at least he could get some good money from fixing shit.

“Fine. You stay. He leaves.” You turned to Frankie, “Make sure to return that Dior candle holder before you leave.”

James turned to his brother. “We need to speak outside.” Frankie didn’t like this new tone his brother took with him but chose not to argue. “I will return your candle holder myself, Ma’am.” You waved a dismissive hand, and the two men went back to the truck. “You motherfucker!” James grabbed his brother by the collar and pressed him against the truck.

“Hey! I thought she wouldn’t notice!”

“Well, shit, she did! You’re lucky she didn’t call the cops on your ass!” James kept the keys to the truck in his pocket as Frankie reached for them. “No.” He warned sternly and let go of his collar as to not cause a scene in the middle of the street. “Walk or call someone to get you.” James said as he turned his back to Frankie and grabbed the candle holder from the open window.

“James! C’mon!”

“Go home, Frankie.”

When James entered the house again, you sat on a barstool by the kitchen island. “You’re quite protective of your…employee.”

“No, he’s just a fuckup.” The words slipped from his mind without much thought. “Excuse my language.”

“You’re excused.” You placed your puppy on the counter to sit. “I thought you were brothers but…you don’t look alike. Maybe the same mom.” James said nothing as he unscrewed the pipe beneath the sink and began to clean it out. “I’m speaking to you.”

“I apologize, Ma’am but I’m busy.”

“I’m paying you.” He nodded. “So, he is your brother.” A pause. You whispered something in a language he couldn’t identify nor understand before you came closer to him. “Look at me.” James turned his head up to you and placed the pipe down. “That’s better.” He was still nervous you’d call the cops, turn them in, and keep his tools! “I’m not going to hurt you…you’re like, uh,” You pointed to your small dog. “Rough but obedient.” He didn’t like being described that way, but he enjoyed the idea of you watching him, giving him the time of day. “I’ll pay you for the job if it’s well done but I won’t call you here again after your brother’s stunt.” His shoulders dropped just slightly. “Finish.” He gulped; the tension was palpable as you stared him down. He was unsure to cream his pants or work on the sink--- fine with either.

James began to work on the dishwasher after cleaning the pipes of any leftover food. He found a bent spoon in the pipe that kept water and anything else from going down. After cleaning the sink and screwing everything back in place, he loads the dishwasher with any stray dishes he saw and let it run after adding dish soap. The dishwasher hummed proudly as water began to slosh around and drain out of the pipes correctly.

There you were once again, behind him. He stumbled back before he managed to calm himself and speak to you, “I’m all done here. Could you show me to the bathroom sink?”

 “Hmm, follow me.” You led him upstairs; Although he tried to get a few good looks at your ass, it was hard to let his desire take over with your dog looking back at him. The dog growled, its small body in the tuck of your slim arm. “Stop it, Peach!”

Peach. “She seems lovely..” James said as you opened your bedroom door.

“She is. Aren’t you?” You asked the puppy and placed her onto the rug.

James couldn’t say that he’d been in many women’s bedrooms, but this was different. Everything about the space made sense; it screamed you. As he stepped deeper into the room, he felt like he were violating some sacred space. Along the walls were framed photos of many landscapes: perhaps from your home and other places you’ve traveled. He spotted a whole desk of cameras, scattered notes and sketches. Burning frankincense and sage rest on a ceramic dish by the bed, filling the room with a lovely scent. Unburned incense cones rest above the fireplace.

You stood beside him inside of the massive bathroom, “I think it’s just hair in the drain, but nothing will go down.” He enjoyed your presence as you sat with him while he unclog the pipe--- taking his time. After a while, you mentioned, “My husband isn’t the biggest fan of me having guests over. Especially my grandmother’s guests. He gets paranoid.”

“Is he away?”

“Overseas, yes.”

“May I ask why? Is it for work?” James pulled stands of your hair from the pipes and threw them into a bin.

“Yes. He works for Ferrari.” There was a trill in your voice as you rolled the r’s.

James’s eyebrows raised, “That’s amazing!” He tried his best to contain his excitement, but it was damn near impossible. The idea popping the hood of a Ferrari and inhaling the scent… “What does he do for Ferrari, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Tsk, you think I care that much about his career?” You asked with a laugh.

Trophy wife. “Sorry for asking.” He leaned on the counter as he thought of ways to keep the conversation going, “Do you work?”

“Work? No.”

That’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t had asked her that. “I like to work on cars.” He said softly, somewhat hoping you’d ignore him.

“Cars, domestic repairs…you’re a technician?”

“You could say that.” He said as he moved closer to you.

“Take those off.” He looked down at his gloved hands and pulled the black plastic off. James turned over his hands. You ignored the tattoos, your focus on the swollen and skinned knuckles. They were red and purple due to the bruises with a singular, long cut along the back of his left hand. “Knife fight?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not my business but what happened?”

“I don’t want you to think differently of me.”

You spoke with a smirk while retrieving a first aid kit, “You haven’t a clue what I think of you.”

“That’s true.” He paused as you found white gauze and rubbing alcohol. “I got jumped.” He said softly. “I shouldn’t had been there anyway; it’s my fault.”

“At least they didn’t cut your handsome face.” You held his chin and turned his head. He was still as you admired his features, “What did you have that they wanted?” he didn’t answer you immediately and you poured alcohol over his wound. He clenched his jaw as you wrapped his hands in gauze.

“Nothin’ important.”

“Well, it isn’t everyday a technician get jumped.” He turned his head up, “Follow me.”

James stood frozen as the garage door opened. In a beautiful sunny yellow, a 360 Spider Ferrari with an impeccable pale-tan interior rested soundly. “I’ve had dreams about this car, Miss…” He said under his breath, looking into the two-seater convertible.

“Mhm.” You hummed rather disinterested with the car, your gaze on the curious young man. He hesitated by the front of the car, “Would you like to take a drive?” 

“M-me? Drive?”

You laughed and climbed into the driver’s seat, “Not in a million years, but you can sit here.”

With a manicured hand, you rubbed the passenger side seat and James chuckled, “You are very kind. I appreciate it.” The engine hummed, his hands to himself while you left the driveway to the main road.

“Shift the gears for me.” James nodded, simply excited. He couldn’t believe his luck, sitting in his dream car with a sexy woman to his left. He shifted gears and you took off down the road with gusto. James gasped, holding onto the car door as the wind pressure made his body feel a hundred pounds heavier. You sat up, wearing a bright smile as you grabbed the wheel and hit a left turn.

“S- shit!” James’s heart raced in his ears as you neared eighty-seven miles per hour on the residential road.

You drove the car with ease, effortlessly flawless with a euphoric look in your eyes. He could tell you liked cars, probably more than him. Maybe not the technical aspects but the speed. You’d never put yourself above others but how could you be the fastest going the same pace as ordinary people?

You pulled into a gas station lot and stepped out before James could offer. You stood at the pump with your back to him as if he weren’t even there. James enjoyed these feelings you evoked; they felt new and without a doubt, made him hard. You continued to ignore him as you bent down and opened the gas cap. Don’t fucking do it…don’t look. He look a glance into the side view mirror, hoping to see the curve of your ass, maybe even a good view of your tan thighs. Instead, he caught your gaze on his body.

For sure, no woman has ever given him a look like that. He couldn’t read you, but this look was clear. You’re hungry, starved and beyond willing. James never felt like a piece of meat before, never felt “easy” but in that moment, his face flushed and, like a bitch in heat, he made his erection obvious.

Who knew it could feel so damn good? The attention of a woman.

You washed your hands before stepping into the car. “Are you ready?” He held a gauzed hand over his mouth and agreed. You chose to ignore his erection, as a married woman, but after all, it’s only human nature.

He shifted the gears and felt the purr like it never ended. You took the avenue that ran alongside the lake, his eyes shut to the scent of sand. Perhaps he was too distracted to notice or maybe your touch was seamless as it ventured past his waistband.

His eyebrows knit tightly, lust stained his features; the touch of a woman is unparalleled, but James isn’t familiar with that. You gently soothed the erection in his pants with a few strokes, your other hand expertly steadied the car. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to feel about your married hand inside of his pants, but it felt good as fuck. “…dammit, you’re big.” You said under your breath as your fingers slipped lower to cuff his tight balls.

James inhales sharply, his hips jerking involuntarily as your hand squeezed around his hard, aching cock. He knows he should stop you, should push your hand away and put an end to this before it goes any further. But the feeling of your soft fingers stroking his sensitive skin is too pleasurable to resist. “Miss~”

James's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as Ada continues to pump his shaft, her touch growing bolder and more confident with each passing second. He can feel the heat building in his core, the urge to thrust his hips forward into the soft feel. You pressed your thumb over the head of his cock as you stroked the top; You naturally eased the precoma from his cock like a machine. “Shh- shit, Miss, please.”

But James knew you were holding out. You could give him more. If only you weren’t driving… “Can we pull over?” He pleads; his hand overlaps yours.

For a second you glanced at the mess of a man and rolled your eyes. You took the nearest exit and drove until you found an empty lot. “What is it?” He bit the inside of his lip, staring at his disheveled pants, the head of his cock rests in his waistband. “Speak.”

“Could you keep going?” A look of confusion, maybe disgust rid your face, “I’m sorry for asking.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes and lowered your head to his lap.

James lets out a squeal as your tongue wrapped around the head of his cock, your fist in his pants, squeezing the base of his cock. It felt amazing but like the worse kind of torture. The sensation of those full, soft lips wrapping around his sensitive flesh, and your tongue swirling skillfully along the underside, is almost too much for him to bear.

His legs sprawled in the passenger side; his head leaned over the shoulder of the seat. You could hear him fighting the intense feelings in his groin. His fingertips twitched as he kept from touching you--- “Don’t cum in my mouth.” You warned, sure to squeeze his cock harder. But the pleasure is too intense, the temptation too great. James is teetering on the edge, ready to give in completely to the bliss you’re offering him.

“I won’t. I won’t cum.” He said through deep exhales; his hips rose just slightly off the seat as he chased what you’re denying him. James feels his balls tighten, the pleasure cresting as you suck him off eagerly. With a strangled cry, his hips stutter. You quickly tucked his cock back into his boxers as he came, his thick load like syrup in his jeans. “F- fuck~” James hissed as you continued to squeeze his softening shaft, collecting every drop of cum from his manhood.

You rose and licked his ear, “That’s a good boy.”

“Thank you, Miss.” He could feel his cum stick to the inside of his boxers, the mess was impossible to ignore.

a/n: I pray I did justice to the request!! Just a reminder, my requests are open til Oct 31st and my inbox is filling up fast. I love you all!! Have a good week, mwah!

All dividers are made by: @cursed-carmine!!

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He cleared his throat after what felt like days of silence, “I would like to rent a room.” His gruff voice was deep as he pointed to the bed and breakfast sign closest to him.

“O- of course…” You caught yourself stepping backward into a table of flowers. “Shit.” You quickly caught the vases before they could fall. “Ahem. Follow me.” You walked through a short hall to the left and went behind a Cashwrap. Behind you, he trailed, a metallic jingle followed.

There at the counter, in the light of a brass lamp, his features softened. You let your shoulders drop, however still tense. “The rooms are forty bucks a night. Cash is preferred.” With quickness, he pushed a neat stack of cash across the counter. You took a moment to count… “Four nights? Alright. All I need is a form of identification.”

The man hesitated and touched his jacket pocket, “…I,” Of course you needed his ID. What was he thinking? “I don’t have one.”

You uncomfortably cringed, could this get any worse? The bad feeling rests low in your stomach, awaking the bile. “I can’t let you stay if you don’t have one. In case there are any damages, or you leave something behind, we need a way of knowing who you are.”

“Yeah, I understand.” He frowned as you pushed his money back. “…my name’s James Kelly.” You tilted your head…something was vividly familiar about his name, his face like one you recognize. You pushed the thought to the back of your mind, “I’m not from here, ok? I…was evicted and I can’t go get my shit.” Sure, he lied. He had helped rob a bank only five hours ago.

Did he feel bad about lying to a pretty woman? Yes. Of course. You have soft eyes, not unlike a woodland creature. Just you staring at him made him feel bad for wetting your rugs, for wasting your time, for scaring you. “James, I’m sorry that happened but I must keep everyone safe here. That includes me and my guests. If you can’t present a valid ID, I must refuse service.”

“…do I need an ID to order something?” He lifts his eyes to the menu on display.

“Nope.” James isn’t hungry. He’s wet. As he looked over the menu, your long nails tapped on the cash register. “…can I get you a change of clothes?”

“I’d like that.”

You sat across the table from him as he quietly ate from the bowl of stew. Without the hood, he looked approachable, maybe even…vulnerable. In your former-husband’s sweats, he peered up from his bowl. “Do you always eat with your customers?”

“No one should go through something like this alone.” Then, he remembered his lie he told earlier. He winced, “I couldn’t imagine losing my home.”

James took another long look at the space. Curated would be the word. Every aspect, every corner, beautiful and cozy. Not crowded but far from minimal and it smelled amazing. The scent seemed to follow you like a loyal pet, like fresh linens and lavender. “Ehh, my place was ok but losing a home like this would make me go crazy.” He smirked, “You’ve put a lot of effort into it.”

You admired your home after him, “Bought the place only a year ago. Can you tell?”

“Not in the slightest.” He followed your fidgeting fingers to your ring. The twin diamonds shared a place on a silver band. “…I don’t believe I asked your name.”

“Y/n L/n.”

He nods in silence, “That’s a pretty name…” He paused as you searched his gaze. “I ain’t just saying that.”

Do I know him? Maybe from high school? No, he’s not from here. “Thank you, James. I appreciate your honesty.” You turned your mug on its coaster, “You don’t like eye contact?”

He scratched his neck, “Not that. Just, uhm, you’re a married woman. I don’t want to come off wrong.” The man raised his hands before letting them fall.

“I know you mean no harm.” Very few would agree, Miss L/n. James thought as he finished his food. “My husband is dead, has been for five years.” The man swallowed the juices that rest under his tongue.

“I’m sorry to hear that…” She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.

“Do you like to watch television…?”

His eyes followed your form as you walked into the living room with a controller. “Like tv shows? Not really. I mean, I watch sports.”

“Everyone does.” You turned to James as the news played on the television. “Do you have a niche?” His left eye squinted on its on in confusion, “Like an interest that not a lot of people would know.”

Behind you, news coverage of a bank robbery in the city over was told in detail. His brother’s face, along with the other dead conspirers were shown. James’s jaw clenched tightly as he thought quickly, “I like documentaries.” He blurted over the news anchor’s voice, now in the living room beside you. After what felt like an eternity, you changed the channel. He prayed you hadn’t heard any odd details that might stand out about him.

“…that’s why I left the city.” You muttered more to yourself, “Never a peaceful day.” He remained silent, his hands to himself on the couch as a boring whale documentary played. “You should stay the night.”

Finally. You gave in. He was hoping it wouldn’t take this long but he’s in no position to be picky. “Thank you, Miss. This means more than you know.” He wouldn’t describe you as careless, no, but trusting. You sat on the cushion beside the stranger, legs folded under you, your guard down and your attention on the television.

“It’s no problem.”

His glare went to the hand on your lap, “What was he like?”

 You followed his gaze to your left hand. “Oh my,” For a moment, you were silent, as if deciding whether to share this sacred memory of him. “…my husband was all I prayed for.” You lift your gaze to James. Part of him--- no, all of him wanted to empathize. He’d lost many people he loved but he couldn’t say they were “all he ever wanted”. “You lost someone?”

He unconsciously soothed his nerves, pressing the pads of his fingers against his thighs, “Yes, recently.”

“I am so sorry. You have my condolences.” Then you went silent, you studied him with no ill intentions, just pure curiosity.

“My brother, I would say it was sudden but, unfortunately, he had it coming.”

“How do you mean?”

“He couldn’t help himself; it was like he had a voice in his head,” He pressed his forefinger to his temple, “…tellin’ him to fuck up anything in his reach.” You raised your eyebrows and James nodded. “Yeah. He practically killed himself.”

“I understand where you’re coming from.” On the side table past James, a photo of you and your husband rests. You both wore graduation gowns, many honor cords around your necks. “He joined the army after uni.” James’s eyebrows furrowed as he took another look at the man. “Why? I have no idea. My mother told me ‘All men crave excitement’. I know that. But I can’t see suicide being exciting.” You said with a rueful smile.

James took the picture frame into his hands, “This sounds weird, but he looks so familiar.” He clenched his jaw and stared in your eyes. This is a gamble. “…Lucas.”

“H- how do you know my husband’s name?”

“He,” James stared at the photo for another long moment, “Lucas was a friend of mine. We were in the same squad before I…was discharged.”

“Did you know? What happened?”

“I heard, yes.”  You stood and from under the coffee table took out a flat box. After a second of hesitation, you placed it on James’s lap. He lifted the lid as you bit you lip and took a seat beside him, your knees to your chest. Some letters, but mostly photos your husband took of him and his friends.

“Find yourself. If you really knew him, y—”

“He never put that disposable camera down.” He said under his breath. You nodded as James lifted a photograph of himself cleaning his gun, an exhausted smile on his face. “…’09 if I recall correctly.” He found another picture of himself in a bed, kicking the top bunk. “If you’d heard the shit comin’ out of that guys mouth at midnight, you’d understand why I kicked him.” You smirked as he offered you more photos, each with their own spill of reasoning and--- James paused on a specific picture towards the middle of the box. In the middle of a punch in the courtyard, James crouched over a man in his service uniform. “That ain’t a good light to see me in.” He chuckled as you took the picture. “That was the day.”

“The day they discharged you?” he nodded, “Dishonorably?”

“Yeah.” He placed the box aside and held his knees. “Damn.”

“May I ask, what’d you think of him?”

“He was a constant when I was there. Always around, always smiling, sneakin’ that camera everywhere.”

“I’m happy to hear that. He loved everyone there. Even that bitch of a commanding officer.”

James groaned at the thought of the old man, “That fuckin’ prick.” He said with only softness in his tone. “…I meant to ask, do you own this place alone?”

“My dad has a share, but I run it myself, yeah.”

“Do you prefer being alone?”

“No.” You shook your head, “But I can’t help it. My subconscious secretly hates me, I suppose.” James watched you ponder, “Are you seeing anyone?”

 “No, no, I’m not.” He placed a hand over yours. Does she see me in him? I’m not sure how to feel. This isn’t my wife. What the hell am I doing? “Ahem, I should rest.”

You took your hand from him quickly, “I understand.” You disappeared down a hall for a few minutes. James took a moment to catch his breath before searching inside his bag. The sound of you making the bed was a polite distraction as he accounted for his nine-millimeter and two magazines. You peered around the corner into the living room, “Are you alright?” James tossed his bag over his shoulder and nodded silently.

He followed you into a room with a glass knob and took a place on the bed. “Leave your clothes in the bathroom hamper and I’ll wash them in the morning. If you need anything, I’m on the third floor but call first.” You gestured to the landline on the nightstand. “I make breakfast around 8 every morning. Checkout is at noon. That should be it…do you have any questions?” James shook his head; your unenthusiastic voice saddened him. “Good night, James.”

“Good night.” You shut the door softly behind yourself and blew out any candles before climbing the stairs for bed. James lay on his back, a loaded gun under his pillow. This was wrong. He’s putting you in danger with this on-the-run shit. The wife of his dead friend. All you want to do is take care of strangers, hear stories and comfort others.

So, for the first time in years, James shut his eyes, and he prayed. The prayer felt like a plead rather than a conversation with the almighty. But praying always felt that way, especially when this desperate.

He woke many hours after 8 am, instead around one pm. On the top of the dresser, his clothes were washed and folded neatly next to his bag. On the nightstand, a cup of coffee, now cold and---

James’s eyes flickered to his bag on the dresser, a silent panic rose deep within him as he rushed to the limp fabric. My gun. He searched his bag to no avail and opened each drawer, looked under the bed and flipped his pillows. Upon seeing the silver Glock glimmer, he held his chest, letting each ragged breath flow. Fuck, I’m too paranoid.

 James punished himself with drinking the cold cup of coffee. Soon after, he took a shower and changed into something you left out.

In the kitchen, you balanced an open cookbook with a palm on the nose of your mixer. “…two cups might overflow my bowl…” You pondered to yourself before zesting a lemon.

“Good afternoon.”

You jumped with a gasp, “Oh my! Good afternoon! You missed breakfast so I brought you coffee. I hope that was ok.”

He shook his head, “It was perfect. Thank you.” You blushed and finished zesting your lemon. “What’s that for?”

“I’m craving something sweet.” Your nose wrinkled at the tangy lemon zest.

He knew you were neglecting eye contact on purpose. You’re probably embarrassed about last night. He hates to think that he made you feel that way, “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“No…you don’t need to apologize.”

“I was in my head about everything, and I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” You swallowed your spit and turned to shut off the mixer. James placed the cash for the night stay on the countertop and after a pause, “I’m gonna hit the road.” Your nose flared as you took deep inhales to calm yourself. There was nothing you could do to make him stay. He’s a grown man after all, but dammit, this hurt like a bitch to watch. “I appreciate your hospitality. You’re a good woman, a great one.” After a whisper of a ‘goodbye’, he was gone.

“Fuck!” You whined as lemon juice spilled into a small cut on your finger. “Fuck me.”

James didn’t expect to come back the same day. After all, he took everything he owned but he couldn’t take his mind off you. What you would think, how you would feel. It drove him mad for hours, he could only imagine what it would do over time.

You were on the couch, watching something similar to the boring whale documentary from last night when he walked in. He made sure to step into your view, as to not frighten you before speaking, “Hi.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and moved back on the couch, “Hi. Back so soon?”

“I’m not good leaving.” There he was, in a shirt the color of ash and jeans with stains that wouldn’t wash out, his eyes on the wood flooring. “May I sit with you?”

“You may.”

He took the closest spot to you and held the back of your neck. The man swiftly kissed your lips, biting and embracing them until they were swollen. He reaches out, gently tracing the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, feeling the tender flesh yield slightly under his touch. You’re still nervous and no amount of kissing would slow that, “You’re precious.” James drinks in the sight of your wide, innocent eyes staring back at him.

In your bedroom, he seemed to dwarf the space with his large frame. Your bed was undone but the space had clear signs of a tidy woman living there. He spread your legs on the sheets, hands settled on the curves of your hips.

He gave your neck a gentle lick before sucking tenderly on the collum of your throat. You’re a sensitive type, too much of anything could make you wet, could make you cum. Your breathy whimpers filled his ear as he gave into you harder. You held the back of his head and kept his body close. Most of him wasn’t enough, you needed everything.

He moved across the map of your throat as your cunt clenched around nothing, craving, soaking wet. You could feel your wet panties move across your cunt as your hips shift. He could feel your hard nipples rub against his shirt, your deep breaths like an all-consuming rhythm.

He suckles harder, leaving dark hickeys blooming across your skin. One hand slides up your chest, cupping the weight of your breast, feeling it overflow in his palm. He thumbs your nipple sensitive nub through the thin fabric of your dress.

You drew your hips up against his, practically begging for his touch at your core. You were gently turned on your stomach, a comfortable pillow beneath your hips; his hand gathered your hair; his lips met the side of your neck as you held the sheets.

Your ass naturally lifts to his hips, but he forced himself to hold out. His teeth sunk deeply into your neck, just nearly tearing skin. James licked the wound before moving down your spine until he met the curves of your ass. He leaned forward into your clothed cunt, his nose pressed into your core as his lips found your clitoris.

James’s tongue pressed onto your clit in between his suckles; James looks up at you, his intense gaze locking with yours as he gently eats your sweet pussy through the damp fabric. The heat of his breath seeps through the thin material, making you shudder. 

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly drags them down, exposing the glistening folds to his hungry gaze. James takes a moment to admire the sight of you, spread out before him, pink and swollen and dripping like a bitten peach.

James's tongue finds your clit once more and he suckles the sensitive bundle of nerves with enthusiasm. He varies his technique, flicking and swirling, before taking it between his lips and suckling hard. All the while, he keeps his blue eyes locked with yours, watching every reaction, committing the way you come undone to memory.

Refusing to let up until you came, he doubles his efforts, his tongue sunk inside of your lovely walls, stroking urgently against your swollen clit with his thumb. “James~”  Your fists squeezed shut. With that, he seals his mouth over your clit and suckles hard, at the same time, he slipped one then two fingers knuckle-deep inside your tight channel. He pumps them in and out, curling and stroking against that special spot deep within that makes your eyes roll back without a thought in your pretty head.

A/n: More of James tomorrow (Oct 5th)!!

All dividers are made by: @cursed-carmine!!

You called for mass early this morning, exactly at dawn. You were seated on your plush throne, a braid of dark hair around your finger as the building filled with your devotees. Some were silent, admiring you from a distance, others called out in praise, grateful to see you again so soon.

Anakin impatiently stood in the hall that led to mass, crowded with others in linen the color of pale pink. He clutched his fists, his nails dug into his hand as time ticked by.

With red rings under his eyes, the only motivation to stay awake was seeing you. Thoughts of loyalty plagued his mind after his odd night with you. What did true loyalty mean to you? How could he prove it? “You quit your job?” One of his housemates whispered as they took their seats in the pews.

“This morning. The prophet said I should.” Anakin said mindlessly, staring up at you. “I’m going to volunteer in the garden now.”

The man nodded and nudged his housemates, “That’d be nice. We could see each other more often.”

Anakin shushed his friend as you began to speak, the entire room fell silent. “…good morning, my little doves.” Collectively, the many said their ‘good mornings’ back. You beamed, keeping a hand over your chest. “Thank you for joining me so early. I had a terrible vision from the heavens as I slept.”

Anakin hung off your every word, practically foaming at the mouth.

“Something is coming, my doves, and I worry that a force plans to take you away from me.” As you walked down the aisles of pews with a mournful expression, the mindless men and women empathized, some reached out for you, others began to cry themselves to comfort. “Yes, I worry.” You paused for a moment, savoring the attention they so simply gave, hands outstretched. “Look around.” Anakin stared around the packed church, walls lined with followers, some listened through the windows and halls.

“We are many but…this isn’t enough.” Your tone betrayed your phony act for a moment. “Ahem, those who do not believe will burn in the afterlife for eternity. Those who leave our commune will suffer. Unimaginable pain in life and death.” The weight of your words sat heavy in Anakin’s chest. He couldn’t imagine leaving you! This is his home! You are his living, breathing Goddess. The young man couldn’t fathom why anyone would leave for that matter.

“My doves, you are gracious people. That means, we must save the damned.” You walked back to your place, above the crowd of servants. “That is why I have decided to send a few of my doves to the inner rim.” There was a long moment of whispers, gasps and even laughter. “We will convert; we will save.” You wore a warm smile, your eyes stilled on Anakin as if you could hear his thoughts.

A warmth ran down his spine, his shoulders tense in an effort to make himself as small as possible. “By the next Eclipse, my precious doves will return with more. Only then will we have enough doves to bring peace.”

“Eclipse.” Anakin’s body went frozen. That word, that one word. A few beads of sweat went down his temples as he lifted his head. From across the room, his eyes locked with you again, a silent mania that only you recognized. For that short moment, Anakin remembered. He remembered the mission, the cause, the threat. You.

He was a Jedi, yes, sent here one, maybe two years ago by men he had long forgotten. He recalled peace meetings, and arguments, yelling and ill wishes. Something about a sick queen, a dying one. Yes, how could he forget? His eyebrows furrowed as he reached for something on his hip. “…my destined eclipse.” You said softly, two hands over your bosom.

As soon as it came, it went. Anakin smile retuned, not able to keep his eyes off you for too long.

Two years ago.

Anakin wasn’t sure why they chose him instead of the skilled Masters whose power surpasses his own. When he got the assignment, he stared at the holotable for a long while, unsure. Watch over a queen. He’d done this before. According to the council, well enough to be admirable.

He held his hands, staring up at the ship that would leave him behind on this planet. Obi-wan was somewhere far, taking care of matters that dwarfed his own. He was never a timid type but here, with no one, nothing but unreliable comms and a lightsaber, he was alone.

Bustling. That was one word to describe the palace. Bustling and never-ending. “Excuse me, I am here to visit the Queen. May you help me?” He asked an official in thick garments before he was escorted to a throne room. Past it, a quiet garden. Although small, it was well attended to. A range of little buzzing insects slept in pods of flowers, others working diligently.

Anakin stared ahead at the woman on her knees, surely the soil was staining her white dress. He hesitated before taking a knee, “Good afternoon, my queen.”

Speaking very softly though aching vocal cords, you managed, “Anakin.”

As sweet as the nectar from the hanging fruit nearby, his name flowed off your tongue. His eyes shut; an unexpected empathy warmed his chest. “Yes. Anakin Skywalker.” He could feel your exhaustion, your pain, your weakness but no worry. It all rested low in your heart, settled right at your core.

A sing came from the bracelet of small keys around your wrist; he figured a family heirloom of sorts. “A jedi? You are just a boy.” You whispered. He sat beside you in the soil, his cheek in your palm. The warmth of your hand was that of sunrays on an autumn morning. Your beauty comparable to the look of infinite serenity. Something about you was so new yet so nostalgic, it nearly brought him to tears.

a/n: I'm going to try to update more frequently but I am a uni student lol. Verrrry busy.

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Who do you think you are, looking at him like that? He's a Jedi Knight, not some lowly servant---

“You’re huffing.” You said before raising your novel higher, blocking the unsightly view of your bodyguard.

“I am not.”

“You. Are. Breathing. Hard. Take a run if you’re out of shape.”

"Princess," he says, his voice tight. "I'm here as your assigned protector, not your pushover. I advise you to focus on the threat against your life."

“How many times must I say it?! I do not want you here!”

Anakin's eyes narrow as he stares up at you from your canopy bed. He can't believe your arrogance, every day, like clockwork, dismissing him so firmly. He's not some toy you can send back because it doesn't suit you. He's a Jedi, sworn to protect the innocent, and that includes spoiled royal brats like you. He won't be brushed off so easily.

"Send another?" he asks, his voice tight with frustration. "I'm afraid it's not that simple, Princess. The Jedi Council assigned me to this mission personally. They chose me for a reason - because I'm the best at what I do. I didn't come all this way to be cast aside because you don't like the way I exhale."

You climbed off your bed and stood tall against him. “…you’ve got some nerve.” You muttered bitterly before snatching the lightsaber off his belt. Anakin grinds his teeth as you toss his lightsaber somewhere far. He listened to the loud clatter as it knocked over a vase, shattering it.

However, his expression stayed firm. He was confident his weapon was fine. It was you. You were the issue. “Rest assured, as soon as I get the call back to Coruscant, I won’t hesitate...” He took a step back.

Anakin takes a deep breath, reminding himself of his duty. He's here to protect you, not indulge his own ego. He tucks his lightsaber back into its holster, the familiar weight a comfort. “Princess.” He dismissed himself, going wherever you weren’t.

Later that day on the dry courts, you played some game he had not recognized. With little racquets, you and the ladies of the court drank wine and clumsily swatted at balls. “Ha-ha!” Your obnoxious laugh rang in Anakin’s ears. He couldn’t control how his eyes rolled.

Pets run around the lawn and your puppy, a little tan creature, insisted on biting at Anakin’s robes. “You’re just as bothersome, rodent...” He muttered to the pet before pushing it away.

He can't help but feel out of place, a warrior among the extravagant finery. His black Jedi robes stand out starkly against the colorful dresses and the vibrant greenery that surrounded the few. He stands further from the courts, not wanting to intrude on your revelry, but his eyes are constantly scanning the surroundings. 

“It seems my new pet would rather keep his distance.” You chattered, obviously tipsy, to your friends.

Anakin's eyes narrow as he watches you laugh cruelly at his reaction to his alienation. He can feel his face heating up with embarrassment and a touch of anger. "I am not a pet.”

“Am I speaking to you?” You asked firmly. The women’s laughter died as you held a moment of eye contact with the general.

Anakin clenches his fist, his cybernetic hand whirring softly as he struggles to control his temper. The insult stings, but he knows he can't rise to the bait. “No, my Princess. You were not speaking to me. I apologize for any disturbance I may have caused." He keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon, refusing to meet your eyes again.

How dare he ignore you? How dare he break eye contact after that pathetic apology?!

“Get the dogs off the court!” You spat to the butlers. It was true, you were a brat, entitled and rude at times but Anakin really brought it out of you. “Useless…” You whispered to yourself, stomping off.

After you left, the women began to gather their things. Anakin stepped forward to the court and with a gentle but firm hand, he scoops up your puppy, murmuring a soft calming phrase under his breath. “…you’re alright…it’s alright…”

Some nights later, you sit on your marble balcony, biting your bottom lip. The breeze flowed in your silk robe, and through your hair, letting it whir around your head. Anakin ate from a leftover dessert tray, popping the sweet bits into his mouth. With every new flavor, his eyebrows raised. “…mhh, coconut.” He steered away from the tempting wine bottle that lay in a bucket of ice.

Through his thoughts of soft delicacies, he heard you speaking to yourself from the balcony. Anakin startles at the sound of the princess’s voice, his heart leaping into his throat. He keeps a respectful distance, not wanting to intrude upon your private moment.

And yet, he can't help but let his gaze linger on the curve of your backside, the way your hair spills down your back, the soft rise and fall of your body as you breathe. There's a vulnerability to you in this moment, a softness that he rarely sees. He wiped his crumbs onto a towel of yours and swallows the last of what he chewed. “M- my princess? Are you alright?”

You looked over your shoulder before turning back to the view of your kingdom. “Fine.”

He found himself stepping closer to you…so close your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you want?” He stared at your red eyes before wiping your face with the sleeve of his night robe. You were still, an awkward and contorted expression on your face. “I am not a child. I need not be comforted by a man.”

He stepped back, taking the far side of the balcony, his back to you. “I don’t think lowly of you.”

“Should we throw a party?” You asked sarcastically before hiding yourself behind your hair. “Leave me be.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I am not!”

Anakin groaned, his cybernetic hand clenched tight, “What do you want from me? What can I do make you happy princess?!”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He took a step closer, “Nothing at all? No one can ever satisfy you. Not me. Not your friends or lovers. Not your pets or meaningless belongings. Nothing. You are a sad woman.”

You sat up, tears in your eyes, “…you don’t know me! You don’t know my kingdom nor my people. You are a stranger. You hold no rank on this planet and when morning comes, I want you gone.”

“That is not for you to decide. Your father-“ You began to walk away from him, strutting back into your bedroom before Anakin grabbed your wrist. “You will listen to me.” Your eyebrow raised as he drew you back.

Swiftly, you clutched the hilt of his lightsaber. The saber ignites in your hand, its blue light hummed. The light was mesmerizing, your eyes on it as he glared at you. Anakin’s hand overlapped with yours, “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re an entitled child. Let it go.”

“Make me.”

“I won’t put my hands on a woman.”

“Choke me.”

He knows he should refuse, should walk away and report this disturbing request to the Jedi Council. But there's a part of him, a shameful part, that chilled with excitement. A part that craves dominance, the utter control. Just once. Just once he could make you submit. “No.” he said firmly.

“…do it.”

Without another word, he leans in, his large hand wrapping around the slender column of your throat. His fingers sink into the soft flesh, feeling the delicate bones and the racing pulse beneath his palm. He applies the slightest pressure, watching your face intently for any sign of distress or regret. He didn’t need to make contact with your flesh to hurt you but there was something about your soft skin, your throbbing heartbeat, under his clutch that make his cock swell under his night robe.

He keeps a small part of his mind clear, focused on your wellbeing and the need to stop if you asks him to. As he clutch your windpipe, he thought of every condescending moment, every time you yelled at or pushed him away.

Finally, you let go of the lightsaber which he returned to his hip.

Your eyes flutter back into your head as you lay back on your sheets. He stayed above you, watching as you slowly surrendered to him. This was a reckless act, dangerous none the less but how could he stop? You sighed, your hands came to his wrist, keeping him steady.

Anakin's heart pounds wildly as he feels the princess’s body trembling against his robes, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The power pulsing through him is intoxicating, the knowledge that he holds your life in his hands, that one wrong move could snuff out your existence was enough to make him moan.

His grip remains firm, not relenting, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your ear. "Breathe." The man half-teases, his nose in your hair. Your vision grew blurry, breathless whispers he could not understand. A tense moan left your throat as you came, the knot in your core tight and left unsatisfied.

Anakin turned you onto your side, his body spooned yours with a heated passion. He leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, feeling the racing pulse that still hasn't slowed from your climax. His voice is rough, tinged with a hunger he can barely control. "Tell me to stop, and I will.”

He pushed away his robe and positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his manhood pushing insistently against your slick, heated folds. With a slow flex of his hips, he sheaths himself inside of you. A shudder left his lips as he grinds into your velvety cunt.

When you whined too loudly for his liking, Anakin quickly places a hand over your mouth, muffling your lewd cries.

a/n: something short...chapter 2 of Eclipse will be out on Sep 17th.

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The way you said his name, it was like a reminder of your ownership, like a collar. He grounded himself in the comfort your aura provided. Then, with a newfound sense of purpose, he opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit with white candles, the shadows dancing on the walls as if beckoning him closer. And there, in the center of it all, you lay across your loveseat. “Welcome, Anakin.”

He shut his eyes as his cock twitched. My name. His sock covered feet rubbed against each other as he finally met your gaze. “Good…” He cleared his throat, “Good evening, my prophet.”

“A beautiful evening. What is that there, in your hands?” Anakin’s glaze switched between the tray of sweets to your face, his face turning pink. “Come closer.” He obediently kneeled below you, holding the tray outward. You gasped, “Oh my!” Chocolate covered strawberries. “That’s a favorite of mine.”

I know. “I read your books.”

“I am eternally grateful for that.” You held a hand over your heart. “Thank you.”

Anakin felt like a fangirl, sweating and salivating in your presence. His effort meant that much to you? He’d never felt so needed, so appreciated before and the conversation just started. “You’re welcome, my prophet.”

Anakin's throat tightened as your allure drew him in with a divine grasp. The perfection of your curves mesmerizing him, the black lace of your dress clinging to every curve in a way that made his mouth go dry. He felt his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of you, the way the fabric hugged your figure like a second skin. It was a sight of pure, unadulterated temptation, a sinful indulgence that he knew he should resist, but couldn't.

He found himself leaning forward towards you, close enough to feel the heat emitting off your skin, to catch the scent of your perfume - a mix of something uniquely you. It filled his senses, clouding his judgement, making it hard to think of anything else but the way you looked at him, the way your eyes seemed to see right through him. “I called for you because I have something for you…”

“Me?” Perhaps it was the diet you put the hive on, but he was weak. Weak in mind and spirit, like a sheep following a beautiful Shepard with a bundle of wheat in her hands. He couldn’t help himself.

“Yes. You.” You moved the tray of sweets to the tea table and took his cheek into your hand. He leaned into your palm, his eyelids fluttering closed for a brief moment as he savored the contact. It was a gesture of intimacy, of affection, and it made his heart ache. “Am I important to you?” You asked softly as his eyes reflected his fear of rejection or misunderstanding you.

“You’re my reason for living. I…” His lips fell onto the skin of your wrist. Anakin is what you would call ‘easy’. “I love you.” He said through passionate pecks. It never took much for him to give it up; you found that amusing.

“Anakin.” You sung with a laugh as his kisses ran higher.

“Yes, my prophet?”

You lift his chin with your fingers. “Focus. Finish speaking.”

“Everything that I once wanted, I have right here with you. My prophet, I am entirely and completely devoted to you.” He took another inhale of your perfume, “I hope I wasn't too forward.”

“You did just fine, Anakin.” He stammered as you drew him against you. Anakin didn’t hesitate to hug you, his nervousness still in the air but faint. “Your loyalty means a lot to me.” His body twitched in places where your long nails scratched softly at his skin. “I nearly forgot, I have something for you.”

Anakin stared curiously at the pen on the veranda. A small lamb lay asleep in the confines, its pink nose shuddered with each exhale. “It’s cute.” You said softly past his ear, “I want you to have her.”

“Me! U- uhm,” He held the back of his neck, “I work with sheet metal and pipes all day, I can’t take care of her.” He said softly, petting the sleeping animal. It looked so vulnerable yet content.

“If you need more time on your hands to take care of her, you should quit your job.” As the moons began to cross the sky, you were quiet. A rather large distraction in the humble atmosphere as you stood regally against the doorframe, waiting for his ‘yes’.

“You’re right. I’ve been meaning to leave that place anyhow…I just don’t think I—”

“Anakin.”  He looked over his shoulder at you. “When the force gives you a blessing, you accept it with open arms. Just as I accepted you.” Your firm voice sent a chill down his spine. Naturally, he bent to your will, your wants.

“Y- yes, Ma’am.” Anakin carefully picked the sleeping lamb up and let his fingers slip through his thick white coat. “I’ll quit and take good care of her.”

Your smile was kind, almost playful as he nervously giggled, “I knew I could count on you, my angel.” Out of the hundreds in your hive, you asked for him. Him! Once a Jedi, then a mechanic, now, yours. Anakin belonged to you, nothing more, nothing less.

A collared pet.

“Come here, let me get a few photos of you both.” You stepped inside to get a camera before holding it up to your face. Anakin holds the lamb to his beating heart as you took a few pictures. He wasn’t sure what you planned to do with them, but he smiled, nonetheless.

With your hands on his waist, Anakin’s muscles tightened, his gaze on the Polaroids of himself. He looked different than when he last saw himself, nearly a stranger. “I’ll keep these safe with me, Angel.” You closed the small box that kept the photos and locked it with a small key; One of many around your charm bracelet. “Well, it’s getting late.”

“Yes! A- ahem. Good night, Ma’am!”

“As for mass tomorrow, I’ll be expecting you.”

“I won’t be late!”

After being dismissed, Anakin hurried across the compound and into his shared house. His sock covered feet pressed on the soft sod, leaving marks of his presence. Moonlight followed his shadow into the house. He took a breath, holding the soft animal in his hands. “I should give you a name.” Anakin whispered kindly as he tucked the lamb in bed, breaths against the top of its head. “’M not that good with names, ’m sorry, girl.” He paused, “Twig. I like that. You’re a bit on the leaner side anyhow.” He kept stroking the top of her head. “I hope I can sit up close during mass. The closer to her, the better.”

“Anakin?” One of his housemates pushed open the cracked door and peeked her head inside. “Where’d you go?” The girl asked while rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“The prophet called me to the house.” He whispered.

Her eyes widened and she kneeled on the floor beside him, “W- what! Why? Did you do something wrong?”

Anakin shrugged as he started to come down from the high of being in your room for so long. “No…she gave me her.” He said with a nod in the direction of the lamb.

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