A younger woman wearing a stunning red dress under a thick black shawl stood by the door, her long dark hair and clothes plastered to her. It must have been pouring outside by now if she had already been soaked through. Someone brought her a small towel from the back and she dabbed her face and squeeze dried her hair as best as possible before coming to the bar. She sat towards the middle and ordered a French 75.

                Scarlip watched her over the top of his drink and he could tell she felt his gaze; with the monotony of couples around him, this woman was the most interesting thing here. She had removed her shawl to show off her lovely shoulders, eyes darting over to him occasionally, not even pretending to be coy about her interest. When his glass emptied, he got out of his seat to move to one down from hers.

                “May I?” he asked. With her permission, he sat and ordered himself another glass of Kir Royale, waiting for her to make a move so as not to scare her away. In his peripheral, he could see her watching him unbrokenly through half lidded, smoky eyes. Her interest had definitely piqued at the mention at his drink of choice; perhaps she liked French cuisine? If so, then she was in for a hell of a meal.

                “That’s a drink you don’t hear often around here.”

                As if on cue, a long stem glass was placed in front of him, and he took it up with his thin, elegant fingers before turning to her with a slight smirk, taking note to highlight his accent. “I-It is a classic from where I hail.” A well timed, decadent sip of the drink kept her eyes on him. “A French 75 isn’t so common either, mon amie.”

                It was her turn to smile as she said, “Les français ont bon gout (The French have good taste).”

                Colour Scarlip stunned, the surprise evident on his face, making the woman burst out in laughter. “Vo—ous parlez français (You speak French)?”

                “Oui. Mon arrière grand père a enseigné à ses enfants, et ils ont enseigné les leurs, et cetera (My great grandfather taught his kids, and they taught theirs, and so on).”

                Scarlip held out his hand for hers, brow raised in a suggestive, playful way. “Have y-you got a name, ma cherie, or shall I just call you mon coeur (my heart)? Because you may have very well stolen my heart.”

                She laughed again before sliding her smaller hand into his. “You can call me Naomi. What about you, monsieur? What shall I call you?”

                He bowed his head and delicately ran his lips over her fingers before looking up through half lidded eyes and a smirk, replying, “You can call me whatever you like.”

                They spent the next hour and a half having a full conversation in just French, earning everything from strange to inspired looks from those around them. By the time both of their drinks (his third, her first) were empty, the storm had come finally in full force. Heavy pellets pounded at the building, silencing all conversation as everyone turned their attention to the ceiling.

                “Oh dear,” Naomi murmured, “The last time a storm like this passed through, the district lost—“

                As if on cue, the dim lights hanging overhead cut out, causing several patrons to gasp in surprise. The music stopped and for a minute the whole place was shrouded in complete darkness and silence. In the gloom, Scarlip could feel Naomi moving closer to him, perhaps in a sense of looking for security. When the lights still didn’t come back after another thirty seconds, people started pulling out their cellphones and waking the screen or turning on the camera lights to cut through the blackness. The proprietor came around to see if everyone was doing okay and assured the room that they were working to figure out what happened.

                In the scattered light of phones, he could make out Naomi’s silhouette just slightly; she was definitely much closer and looking straight towards him. “Look—Looking for comfort, ma cherie? If so, you’ve come to the right place.”

                A low chuckle rolled from her throat. “My, you’re a completely different person in the dark.” Her personality had changed too. The obscurity seemed to bring out a different side of people, and Scarlip was liking it.

                The pair continued to stay at the bar, making conversation in low voices, the air between them feeling more intimate than their menial topics portrayed. Thirty minutes had passed and they had scooted so close together now that her knees were practically pressed against his stool and his were open on either side of her legs.

                “Alright everyone,” the manager suddenly announced, “I’m sorry but we can’t seem to get our electricity back, at least any time soon, so we’ll have to ask you all to leave.” There was a chorus of disappointed ‘aws’ and murmurs that met him, but guests started to get up in staggered waves, paying bills, gathering things and getting ready to face the storm.

                Naomi eyed Scarlip for a moment before touching the tips of her fingers to his. “This might be forward, but how about we go back to my place?”

                He chuckled, “Cherie, you aren’t forward enough. I was expecting you to ask me that forty-five minutes ago.” He paid for their drinks, but as they were getting ready to leave, his phone began to vibrate with an incoming call.

                “Oui.”

                “Where are you?” Eyepatch’s voice rang through from the other side. He sounded irritated.

               “Mo—oon ami! Ça va (Doing okay)?”

               “Ugh, are you drunk? Where are you?”

               “I’m at a bar, a-about to leave.”

               “Are you coming back? There are things we need to discuss.”

               “Non, I met someone. We’re going to her—“

               It was as if he wasn’t even waiting for an answer when Eyepatch cut Scarlip off. “No, come back right now. We really need to talk.”

               Getting annoyed himself, Scarlip turned away from Naomi, speaking a little lower. “Well what is it? Surely it can wait until tomorrow.”

               “No, it can’t. Get back. Now.” There was a click on the line and the call ended. Normally Eyepatch didn’t demand things of his colleague, because he knew it would go nowhere, but it sounded urgent.

               Turning back to Naomi as he pocketed his phone, Scarlip sighed in annoyance. “Sorry, cherie. We will have to reschedule, it seems. Something’s come up.” He thought he saw annoyance flash across her dimly lit features, but perhaps it was just the dark playing tricks.

              “Oh, well that’s disappointing… Is everything alright?”

               Scarlip shrugged, but remembered she probably couldn’t see him. “W-Who knows? My—euh—co…worker wanted to talk to me immediately about something.”

               “I… see.” Naomi hung her head a little, shoulders slumped. The assassin hooked his finger under her chin and made her face him, even though they were still sitting around in the dark.

               “Don’t be so glum, ma cherie. Why don’t you give me your number? I’ll call you when I have time and w-we can go out for drinks another day, and maybe even dessert,” he smirked at the implication, and while he couldn’t see her face, he was sure she was rolling her eyes. That was the usual reaction he got to that sort of line. It never hurt to try though.

               Grabbing hold of his hand and pulling away, she countered, “Sorry to say that I’ve been in the dating scene a while and I know that trick. I give you my number, I hope and wait for you to call, you never call, and I’m disappointed. Why don’t you give me your number instead?”

               Scarlip had to chuckle at that. He’s done that to several people before, both on purpose and on accident. But he liked the moxie of this woman, so he agreed and watched her lit up face as she programmed his number into her contact list. “I-I’ll be waiting for your call.” He took her hand, kissed her knuckles ever so gently, and together they walked to the door. It was still pouring out, so he wrapped his jacket around her head and shoulders. When she tried to protest, he told her this was just another reason for her to call him to meet up again and winked, then walked off into the night.

                When Scarlip returned to his shared domicile that operated as a bunk house for missions in the area, soaked to the bone, Eyepatch was sitting by the front door, waiting with Melissa, his beloved rifle under his arm.

               “Mon dieu (My god)!” Scarlip fake gasped, as he stood in the open doorway. “W-W-Were you waiting to kill me? And here I thought we were becoming such good friends, and maybe something more.”

               Having no patience for his nonsense, Eyepatch grabbed the front of his turtleneck and yanked the other assassin in before moving to close the door with a peak into the night and a snap of the wood. Then he turned on his companion. “Where the bloody hell have you been? You couldn’t have come any faster?”

               Annoyed, Scarlip began pulling his sweater straight again. “What are you talking about? It was only ten minutes from the bar to here.”

               “You fucking loon! In those ten minutes, you could have been killed! I told you to hurry but I bet you didn’t even take into account the urgency of the situation.” As he talked, Eyepatch was making sure all the locks on the door were secured and even went as far as to push the chair he was sitting in under the doorknob for extra measure before activating the security system from his watch.

               The Frenchman rolled his eyes. “What are you—“

               “I have reason to believe that someone’s put a hit out on us.”

               After a stunned moment, Scarlip began to laugh heartily. “Th-Th-That’s ridiculous. We are the best assassins in all the multiverse. What fool would try to come for us? K-Krombopulous Michele? That old bug knows we’ll kill him and that ugly girlfriend of his in a sn-snap.” He burst into another fit of laughter, almost crying in glee at the ridiculous thought as he stripped down to his underwear out of his wet clothes. When he calmed down and looked up at his partner, he realized Eyepatch was still just standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, annoyance plastered on his face. Sighing, Scarlip made his way to the kitchen to fix himself a drink. “Alright, alright; why do you think we’re being ta—argeted?”

               “At the mark’s office—they had our faces pinned up on the wall for games of darts, like that dumb cliché in movies.” Eyepatch saw Scarlip roll his eyes in disbelief but he pressed on anyway. “After I sniped him, I had to sneak in—had to know what that was all about. The man that I was after had documents on us; photos, alliances, sensitive information. Seems he knows us, hates us. There was a card attached with a number, so I called from his phone, but it was a dead line.”

               “Mon ami, don’t you think you’re being—“

               “Don’t say I’m being paranoid! For a professional assassin, you don’t seem to recognize the very OBVIOUS signs of a hit job.”

               Sighing, the Frenchmen put his glass down and crossed his arms. “D’accord (okay), so w-what do you want us to do about this? Eh? Say we are being hunted, huh? Th-They could be right outside our door right now. Are we just going to stay cooped up in here forever?”

               “Don’t be a fucking prick. I’m going to have to think of a plan to get us to a new location, but until then, we’ll have to lay low until I figure something out. You,” Eyepatch jabbed a finger into his counterpart’s chest, “just don’t leave until I know our next move.” And with a glare, the Englishman stalked off down the hall of their hideout.

               Three whole days they’d been stuck in the house. Scarlip hardly saw Eyepatch at all. He was dug deep in the planning room, five o’clock shadow sprouting on his chin, hair a mess, his usually composed outfit a sweaty mess. He was down to his slacks and under shirt, and hadn’t showered at all, the poor paranoid waffle. The first part was the getaway; the most obvious answer here was to portal out, but they were completely off the grid. It had been a very long time since they used a portal that not even the Citadel knew of their whereabouts, which was just fine for their line of work. The next part was where to go. Going home was out of the question as Bucky was there, and they could lead their own tail to him. The Frenchman wanted to help but his friend was always the better one with plans, and besides, he couldn’t really say he cared; an assassin being confronted with his own assassin would be interesting to say the least.

               Three whole days, Eyepatch was holed up in the planning room, and three whole days, Scarlip was lazily sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels. Even with interdimensional cable, TV got boring, quick. Just as he was about to doze off for the third time that day, his phone buzzed on the table next to him, the jolt of it waking him from limbo. It was a text from a number not registered in his directory.

               (???) Hey cutie, it’s Naomi, from the bar. Wanted to know if you’d like to meet up for dinner tonight.

               Scarlip smirked as he read it. He’d forgotten all about her, but now that she was brought to his mind again, he was reminded on how good her company ended up being, and how cute she was, even with her wet hair and dress. He replied back:

               (Me) Sorry, ma cherie, I’m afraid I’m stuck at home taking care of something today; can’t make it out.

               (Naomi) :( Ok

               (Me) Don’t be sad, ma cherie. Why don’t you come over?

               (Naomi) :) Really?

               (Me) Sure, you can come now if you want. Bring alcohol. Here’s my address.—

               (Naomi) Oh, you live pretty close by.

               He was busy writing a reply back when Eyepatch entered the room. “Ugh, I think my head hurts more from all my paranoia than it does from just thinking out a plan. I need something for this headache. What are you doing?”

               Without looking up at him, Scarlip replied, “I’m texting, w-what does it look like?”

               “Well, instead of doing that, why don’t you come help me devise a plan to move us safely to the next hideout?”  Filling a glass with water, and popping two pills into his mouth, Eyepatch continued, “Who are you texting anyway? I’ve—“ he gulped down his mouthful, “—never seen you be friendly enough with anyone to have an extended conversation.”

               Scarlip snorted. “You think you’re so funny, huh? While you’re right about that last part, some do find my demeanor cha—arming.”

               “Whatever, just come help me.” The Englishman dismissed the conversation and went back to the planning room.

               It was annoying when he got dismissive like that, so just to spite him, Scarlip decided to annoy him right back. “I invited someone over.”

               The footsteps coming back were practically stomps as Eyepatch returned as quickly as he could. “You WHAT!”

               “I said, I invited someone over; you should probably clean up. We’re having drinks!”

               “You goddamned buffoon! Do you understand how much danger we’re in? And you’re inviting someone over to have drinks?!”

               “Calm down, mon ami. I-It’s just some bar girl I picked up the other night. We’ll drink, fuck, and she’ll be gone before you know it. A-A-And besides, in the very slim chance that she tries something, we are in our territory. Home field advantage, or whatever that dumb saying is.”

               Eyepatch’s anger was almost palpable. His fists were balled and shaking, teeth clenched, nostrils flaring. “You’re a fucking moron.” And with that, he stomped off down the hall.

               Scarlip grimaced at the slamming of a door, but quickly snickered it off. He really pissed him off this time. Whoops.

               Almost fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the door, which Scarlip eagerly answered (three days alone and bored make you eager for anything, plus she had alcohol). Naomi, more than a foot shorter than him, was still as cute as ever, long dark hair draped over one shoulder with what seemed to be his jacket slung over one arm. She looked even better holding a paper bag with the neck of a wine bottle poking out of it. He invited her inside and as they settled down on the couch with a couple of wine glasses, she placed the jacket in his lap.

               “Thanks for letting me borrow this; that was really sweet of you. I’ve had it cleaned so it shouldn’t smell like me.”

               Scarlip smirked and then folded it over the side of the couch behind him. “Well that’s a shame, I-I think you smell absolutely lovely.” He took her hand in his and lightly feathered a kiss over her knuckles, just like at the bar, making her eyes light up. He turned back to the wine and popped it open.

               “Aren’t you going to go put your coat away?” Naomi asked.

               “No, I can do it later. You’re here now.”

               As he was about to pour the first glass of wine, the lights above flickered suddenly for a few seconds before going out completely.

               “Ugh… w-what is he doing now?” Scarlip muttered. He was going to get up and investigate, but the lights came back just as he moved to do so. “Oh. Perhaps it was nothing.” He poured them both half a glass and was about to make a toast until he was interrupted yet again by loud, hurried footsteps coming down the hall.

               “Scarlip! SCARLIP. We have to go, our security’s been—“ Eyepatch stopped dead in his tracks when he came upon the two. The one eye not covered by his patch was widened in absolute surprise. “Naomi,” he half gasped, half whispered.

               The woman stared back at him, eyes just as big. “…Rick…!”

               A heavy silence dropped upon them as the two stared at each other, Scarlip bouncing his own gaze back and forth between the two. “So I-I-I guess you two know each other,” he said, taking a long gulp of his wine.

               “….Yeah, yeah we do.” Eyepatch gulped, taking a step forward. “What… are you doing here?”

               “I—Well I met—“ she gestured towards Scarlip, “we were at the bar together and I—“ She was fumbling over her words, clearly embarrassed to be insinuating at a hook up.

               Scarlip looked at his partner smugly over his almost empty glass, as if to nonverbally finish her sentence in the most lewd way possible. Eyepatch ignored him and stepped as close as he could to Naomi with the couch still between them. Clearly he forgot about whatever security issue he came stomping out of the inner chambers for; it seemed he only had eyes for Naomi, until the sound of shatter glass came from his left.

               The two whipped their heads around. Scarlip had collapsed sideways on the couch, wine cup pieces scattered all over the ground.

It was going to take one minute, twenty nine seconds for the elevator to reach the penthouse.

He’d wanted to kick the doors open, spray bullets through entire first floor, riddling the air and any bodies that may be in the way; make a grand entrance to let them know up top who the fuck they were going to be dealing with in less than ninety seconds.

JZ had other ideas. Although he agreed to this little mission, he didn’t particularly like guns. Instead, he worked a little magic--science, he insisted! Magic is just unknown science!--and created a one-use portal that was undetectable by standard means. No portal gun components to be scanned; no portal gun fluid to set off any alarms.

The entire building was protected by a portal dampening shield, of course, and the penthouse triply so, but one tiny millisecond in the disruption of power on the first floor wasn’t going to register with anyone, now was it, Erick?

Sometimes Erick hated that the sweet man who knitted sweaters and baked brownies on a weekly basis could be so bloody insidious.

So with the help of another of his inventions, a self-destructing nanobot (it was made of paper, so it would crumble to dust), the power flickered, JZ flicked the temporary portal into existence, and they stepped into the elevator with none of the highly paid, highly trained security team assigned to watch the front of the building the least bit wiser.

There was no worry they would be intercepted before reaching the penthouse; it was also well-protected and there was no way to stop its ascent once the button was pressed.

One minute, twenty nine seconds.

As one compartmentalized section of his mind counted down the seconds, Erick used the time to compose himself. He tugged at the hem of his jacket, straightening it. He closed his eyes, and went through each exact step of what was to come next, rehearsing it in his mind so there would be no mistakes. Muscle memory, practiced in his head, would carry him through.

Door opens, one step forward. Gun raised. Two quick shots, one right, then sweeping left, for the bodyguards. Another step forward. Finger still tight on the trigger-- JZ cleared his throat. It broke Erick’s concentration.

One minute to go. He opened his eyes, his lip already beginning to curl to berate the man dressed identically in black suit and tie for interrupting.

JZ was scant inches from his face. That startled him.

“You look so damn hot,” JZ announced.

Fifty one seconds.

Without another word, his partner kissed him. Wild, hot, passionate; everything Erick had ever hoped but never dreamed it would truly be like.

Forty five seconds.

He’d teased and he’d teased. He’d made inappropriate remarks, touched him in ways that were more like a lover than a friend just to tantalize him. He’d pushed JZ, until JZ pushed back and demanded to know what, exactly, Erick was doing. He’d been tired of the not-so-subtle flirting, tired of the cavalier attitude, and wanted to know, right then and there, where this thing between the two of them was going.

And since that one day where JZ backed him down on the couch and he’d fumbled and stuttered through an answer, JZ hadn’t propositioned him or touched him or anything.

And now here, in this elevator?

Forty seconds. 

JZ’s tongue pushed through Erick’s lips. It explored just inside his teeth, and the tip dragged itself along his hard palate. It traced his scar before dipping back inside. He sucked his lower lip, for variety.  

He was stunned. But that faded quickly and Erick returned the demanding embrace. He grabbed JZ by the jaw, by the back of his head, to keep him close. One of JZ’s hands mirrored his, slipping through this hair and making it messier. Their tongues lapped the other’s and retreated and each tried to be dominant.

Thirty seconds.

Erick would have expected JZ to be a little more hesitant. He would have expected that he would be the one to initiate a kiss like this, to take the lead. But then JZ’s hand dropped between them and gave a a firm squeeze to the bulge trapped behind his fly. Erick moaned over the the other man’s tongue still in his mouth, and it became crystal clear JZ was going to be in charge of many, many of these encounters.

Twenty two seconds.

JZ massaged him still he was erect, his mouth continuing to make demands at the same time. Erick was weak and staggered and wanted more, more, more--

“Twelve seconds,” JZ muttered into his mouth. “Pull yourself together.”

And he stepped back. At the disengagement and loss of all sensory information: JZ’s slick tongue, the sweet taste of his mouth, his fingers applying pressure to his groin, his own moans reaching his ears, Erick couldn’t think.

“Nine seconds,” JZ announced.

There was a flurry of movement then: re-straightening his jacket; a quick adjustment of his trousers--he’d never shot anyone with an erection pressing against the inside of his zipper but there was a first time for everything; a second to flex his fingers and grab hold of his guns. His practiced scenario flashed through his head one more time. It was overridden by frank hot desire for the man standing next to him. 

His heart was racing and it had nothing to do with the job he was going to step out of this elevator for. 

“Three seconds.”

The elevator stopped and the bell dinged, then there was the eternal pause before the doors automatically started to open.

“Let’s go get them, tiger,” JZ said, with a wild look in his eye. “Then we can get home.”

With a grin on his face, Erick stepped out.

-

The candles were lit; rose scented, of course. Cushions and duvets and all the blankets I owned were scattered and piled up on the floor. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off, some fairy lights were draped by the cosy little nest I'd built, working with the candles to illuminate the space just enough, not too much.

I hoped it would be right, that Patience would like it, and I wasn't just making a fool of myself. Not that I thought he would laugh or tease, but I'd spent the last hour dithering about how I should set things up. He had been the one to suggest this all, trying something different and dedicating the entire evening to each other. Work meant that these kinds of things were rare; we spent time together, of course, but not nearly enough.

Patience was, well, patient with me. If he was annoyed that our schedules didn't line up well, he didn't let on. I was both grateful and irked by that. It was nice that he wanted to relieve the pressure on me, but at the same time, a selfish part of me wanted him to express some disappointment whenever I told him I didn't have time to visit him, or have him over for dinner. He had sated my restlessness, though, when he'd asked me about my next day off, told me to keep it open… and then handed me a book.

I'd been puzzled at first. A book? What, did I have homework, now? I'd teased. He'd simply smiled before pressing a kiss to my forehead and departing. Despite my initial confusion, I'd barely been able to put the book down all week; I'd finished the whole thing in the space of four days. Admittedly, it wasn't a very long book, but it was compelling.

Tantric sex.

That's what it was about. The book told wondrous stories about how this Hindu practice was being incorporated into the lives of many people, even those not following the religion, as a means of deepening connections with their partner. I'd raised a brow at first, wondering what could possibly be done to sex to make it more of a connection, but I quickly understood. And so with Patience's impending arrival, I had set up the living room as closely to the book’s tips as I could.

Well, I could only assume that Patience was suggesting we try it. He never explicitly told me, but he often times forced me to read between the lines with his intentions. Outright telling me would be instant, easy; Patience told me it was healthy to wait for good things. And what better way to make me wait than to leave me to figure things out on my own before he confirmed them? Standing, tapping my fingers on my bottom lip as I stared at the space I'd created, I silently hoped to myself that he hadn't merely given me the book to share an interesting part of a different culture. Now then I'd feel silly, having gone to all this effort.

The knock on my door signalled his arrival and I let him inside my apartment, my stomach twisting in knots at the sudden, unwelcome nerves that appeared. Was I being stupid? This was silly, right? The place looked like something out of a romance novel, all those rose scented candles and the dim lighting. All that was missing was the Marvin Gaye playing softly in the background… but when Patience stepped over the threshold and got a good look at our surroundings, a soft, easy smile passed over his features, and he turned to me.

“You've been working hard.” He told me, his voice soft, smooth, holding this wonderful frequency that made it sound like he was speaking from directly inside my head. I bit my lip and looked over at the grown up pillow fort I'd created.

“I wanted it to be good.” I said meekly, and he closed the gap between us and cradled my face in his hands. He leaned in, his lips lingering just a few short centimetres from mine, but it was our foreheads that met instead. He held eye contact with me for a while, a warmth in him that told me he appreciated the effort. He didn't need to voice his thank yous, he was eerily good at communicating without the use of words.

“I brought some things.” He whispered, pulling back and dropping his hands from my face slowly, shrugging one shoulder to draw attention to the canvas bag draped over it. He pulled it open to show me it's contents; I saw a bottle of something; like lotion or body oil, a bag of red grapes, some chocolate, and I smiled. He reached inside and dug around to the bottom. “If you'd like to put this on, you're welcome to.” He added, handing me something.

It was a CD; though it didn't have a proper cover or a title, it was one of those disks you burn yourself. He'd obviously made it himself, like a mixtape, and my heart soared at the thought. I flipped it over to where he'd written the track list on the back. The first track was a Marvin Gaye song.

“Is it okay? You're smiling, but you look amused.” He questioned tentatively. I was amused, his CD ticked the final box on my cliché romantic setting checklist. It was like he'd read my mind.

“It's perfect. I'll put it on now.” I told him, unable to keep the grin from my face. I walked over to my CD player and popped the disk inside, having another quick glance at the back of the box. The CD was full of slow, romantic songs, clearly hand picked by him for this very purpose. I wanted to scream with excitement, but I kept myself composed and walked back to him after hitting play. The volume was low, but it added just the right amount of sensuality to the atmosphere.

I took his hand and led him further into my apartment, encouraging him to get comfortable as I took a seat, cross-legged in the center of the pile of pillows and blankets. I watched Patience as he slipped his shoes off and placed the bag down on the table with his back to me, pulling out the items one by one before placing them on the floor near me. Then he joined me, sitting directly in front of me, our knees touching.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, reaching his hands forwards to seek mine. He held them, letting our entwined hands rest on our knees.

“Join me, won't you, in taking some calming breaths.” He whispered, and I closed my eyes. I heard his inhale and followed suit. At first, his breaths were much longer, slower than mine, and it took me a few cycles before I could steady my own, controlling them so they were smooth and long. It was a moment before we were breathing in perfect synchrony, and he allowed us to stay like that for quite a while. I felt my heart rate slowing, the muscles in my shoulders, neck and jaw; I was suddenly aware were tight, and so I consciously relaxed them. I felt like melted butter, all the tension in my body and mind unlatching with every cooling inhale, and cleansing exhale.

Just when I thought I was going to doze off, Patience squeezed my hands before letting go of them, instead bringing his touch to my thighs, sliding up and up until he reached my hips. I opened my eyes to look at his, and he licked his lips to wet them before speaking.

“How're you feeling?” He questioned. I felt like my voice would ruin the tranquillity he had created, so I simply nodded my head. “I want to hear your words, mi amor.” He added.

“I'm feeling relaxed, calm… excited about where this evening may go.” I told him in a whisper after a few moments. “What about you?”

“I feel happy that you have understood my suggestion, and that you have gone to the trouble of preparing all this. I'm thrilled that I will be close to you tonight.” He told me, his voice easy, honest. “Will you sit on my lap; Yab Yum?” He asked.

I'd read that phrase in the book he'd given me, and I felt oddly excited about the fact I knew what he was talking about. Like I was a kid taking a test at school and the thing I studied for came up. I nodded and uncrossed my legs, shuffling forward to sit in the space his crossed legs created; he welcomed me close to him with his arms, wrapping them around my back. I crossed my ankles on the floor behind him, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders; the position meant we were at perfect eye level to one another, and he pressed his forehead against mine.

“I like this. I could sit like this with you for hours and hours.” Patience told me, letting his eyes fall closed. I did the same. If the mood was different, I would've chuckled and joked that he could, and he would, however I wasn't as able to sit still for such periods of time.

“You'll tell me if your legs fall asleep, won't you?” I asked instead. A quiet chuckle rocked the both of us.

“I will.”

It was nice, being so close and so intimate with him, before even taking our clothes off; and I said so out loud. He hummed quietly in agreement, and then the two of us fell into silence. I didn't need instruction and I didn't even need to consciously think about it; with our chests flush together, it was only natural that our breaths settled into tandem. With his exhale came my inhale, with my exhale, came his inhale. It was like the sea; waves lapping a shore, moving in and out, forwards and back. A few moments in, his hands began to wander, smoothing up and down my spine in time with our breaths. I brought one of my hands to his hair, twirling his ponytail around my fingers.

“Can I take your hair down?” I asked him.

“Yes.” He smiled, pulling back and opening his eyes. I carefully removed his hair tie, slipping it onto my wrist so it wouldn't get lost, and smoothed my fingers through his locks slowly. He sighed softly, leaning his head back into my touch; I knew he liked having his hair played with. As his hands slipped underneath the back of my t-shirt to stroke my skin, I pushed my fingers through his hair to massage his scalp. A very quiet, very deep moan rumbled in the back of his throat, and my breath picked up for just a second before he reminded me to relax.

Heat was beginning to fill my lower body, a thick fullness that settled in my belly and spread towards my thighs. My heart rate climbed but I made sure to keep my breathing slow and calm; I could be patient. And I was. When he pulled away for just a moment, leaning away so our chests separated, I felt cold, but he moved back quickly having retrieved the bag of grapes. He reached inside and plucked one out, offering it to me. I took it with my lips, a grin crossed his face.

“Mmm.” I hummed softly as I bit into the grape, feeling it burst in my mouth, filling it with sweet, refreshing juice. “Delicious. I am curious, why grapes?” I questioned; grapes were hardly considered one of those 'sexy’ fruits to feed your partner, like strawberries-

“They were all out of strawberries at the store.” He admitted, laughing to himself. I couldn't help but snicker, shaking my head. I picked a grape from the bag too, mirroring his previous action and holding it at his mouth. He took it between his teeth and gingerly bit down, carefully taking half. I was sure if I did that, juice would've shot everywhere and it wouldn't have been so sexy. He nodded at me, urging me to eat the other half. I felt a blush on my cheeks as I did, my face heating up out of nowhere.

With the next grape I picked up, I got a little daring. I held it between my lips and pouted at him. Patience laughed, shaking his head softly before leaning in and joining our mouths together. He lingered there for a moment before biting his half, then kissed away the juice remaining on my lips. My heart was hammering hard enough that I was sure he could hear it.

“Are you nervous?” He asked me. Yep. He'd definitely heard it.

“I'm not nervous, I'm excited.” I told him, kissing his lips again. He cupped my cheeks and held me there. He didn't attempt to deepen the kiss with tongue or anything like that, he simply held my bottom lip between his, then my top lip, going back and forth and smooching me until we both needed breath. It was all done so slowly, like time wasn't moving at its normal rate any longer. My heart didn't get the memo, of course.

“Me too.” He admitted, taking my hand and bringing it to his chest. I could feel his heart hammering away in there, just like mine, and I was surprised. He looked so composed, so calm, like his heart would be pumping a beat per minute or something. It reminded me that he was human. I felt it for a while, getting lost in the rhythm of it, closing my eyes again as his own hands moved to my thighs, stroking back and forth as far as he could reach. I felt myself resisting the need to jump every time his hands drew close to my groin, my body simply waiting for his touch. I knew it wasn't coming yet, so I focused on his heart and took the opportunity to force myself to relax even further.  

I fell deeper into some sort of trance and I dipped my head. I really could fall asleep like this, it was dangerous… noticing my drifting, Patience kissed my forehead, breaking me out of the spell.

When he let go of my hand to reach for the chocolate, I let my own hand slide down his front, dropping away from him. It dipped between us just a little lower than I'd intended, and accidentally brushed over the space between his legs. The few moments it was there, I could feel that he was partially hard, though in my deeply relaxed state it took me a moment to register it. When I did, I flung my hand back with a sharp gasp.

“I didn't mean to touch- I wasn't- I know this is all about taking things slowly and-” I stammered, shaking my head and feeling my cheeks ignite again.

Patience shushed me soothingly, nothing but amusement on his face. He shook his head, chuckling.

“Relax.” He whispered, bringing my attention to the rustling of the chocolate bar's package. “It's not a crime to touch each other, as long as we are focused on the now, not the future and how we can get to our endings.”

I nodded slowly, glancing down between our bodies into the small gap that separated our intimate areas. His robe made it difficult to tell, but I was sure I could make out the beginnings of a tent… I felt myself throbbing, tingling, I wanted so badly to do something about it; but I had to be on my best behaviour. I wanted to do this for Patience, to try things his way. When we had sex, it was often my way; foreplay was involved but there was always the end goal of intercourse. Right now there was no end goal, at least there shouldn't be. We were to just be, doing things one at a time, whatever came naturally.

“Here.” He said, breaking off a piece of chocolate and placing it on my tongue. “Don't chew. Let it melt on your tongue naturally, enjoy it as it does. Only swallow when you're truly ready to. In our everyday lives we eat to sustain ourselves, chewing and swallowing without even thinking. It's important to take the time sometimes, to truly enjoy something.”

I pondered his words, feeling the chocolate soften in the heat of my mouth, slowly spreading its flavour over my taste buds. Patience set aside the chocolate after taking a piece for himself, then brought his hands back to my body; they slid up my sides, around to my front – just barely ghosting over my breasts – before finding my shoulders. He massaged me there, his fingertips sliding up the sides of my neck, down the curve of my shoulders and back up again, he rubbed at the thick, tight muscle until it loosened. I moaned softly, my senses surrounded with pleasant things; the taste of chocolate, the smell of Patience, the sensation of his fingers working magic under my skin.

His hands dropped for a moment, moving down to the hem of my t-shirt.

“May I?” He asked and I raised my arms as my way of answering him. He smiled and lifted my shirt up and off of me, placing it neatly nearby on the floor.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged me in, rocking back, then forward, the momentum sending us laying horizontal. I still had my legs wrapped around his waist, and he gently released them so I was lying flat on the pillows and he was kneeling between my legs. I didn't question his motives; I took a leaf from his book and focused on the now, the sensations of the softness underneath me, the faux fur of the blanket on top of the pile brushing against my arms. The piece of chocolate was getting smaller in my mouth, and I had to swallow just a little of the melted part; accidentally taking the rest with it. Oh well, I had given it my best shot.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked me.

“Extremely.” I nodded, smiling up at him.

“Good.” He whispered, bending down to press a single kiss to my forehead. “I'd like to massage you, if you'd let me.” He added, picking up the bottle of body oil from next to us.

“Oh, please, be my guest.” I chuckled, and so he got to work with it. He poured some oil onto his hands before rubbing it between his palms to heat it up, then reached for my right arm, massaging all the way from my upper arm, down, focusing on the joint of my elbow, then the joint of my wrist, and finally my hand. He paid attention to every joint of each finger, and special attention to my palm. He moved over to my other arm and did the same. Before he could go any further, I sat up.

I reached for the wrap around belt securing his robe, looking to his eyes for permission before loosening it. I parted his robe and pushed it back over his shoulders, revealing his chest and arms to me; I left it to pool around his waist and in his lap, since I knew there was nothing underneath. I urged him to sit back down on his butt, then crawled behind him on my knees so that I could massage his back. I was sure I wouldn't be nearly as talented as he was, but I at least wanted to try and make him feel as pampered and relaxed as he made me.

I took some of the oil into my hands and followed his process; warming it up between my palms. I smoothed my hands up and down his spine, distributing the oil across his skin. The stuff smelled like a combination of herbs, though I didn't know which, since my knowledge was slim. It was a fresh yet soothing scent, one that was not overpowering in any way; I figured it was some natural, chemical free thing. I could feel Patience's back expanding as he breathed deeply with my hands on him, I worked the heels of my hands into his muscles, right up to his shoulders. He sighed softly, appreciatively, and I moved my attention down to his lower back. He liked my efforts there especially, a moan slipping past his lips as he leaned forward to give me more access.

“Is it nice? Tell me if I'm doing a good job.” I prompted him, spreading my hands to his sides and moving back upwards, inwards, back down again, making large circuits.

“You're incredible. It feels amazing.” He told me, his voice a soft exhale. I smiled, pride bubbling inside me. I shuffled forward on my knees, slipping my hands up and over his shoulders, down to his front. I smoothed the excess oil over his chest, my palms grazing his nipples, perking them up. He chuckled, catching my hands before I went any lower, then he turned his head to me. “Kiss me.” He urged, when he saw that I was still sitting upright and my face was too far away to do it himself.

I obliged, locking lips with his tightly, mimicking the way he had kissed me earlier. His hands stroked up and down my wrists, but I was soon twisting back around to his front to make it easier to share the kiss. When we broke away for air, he paused minutely before trailing his lips to my chin, tilting my head back with his hand so he could smatter more down the column of my throat, then right down between my breasts. All the while he was guiding me onto my back; I barely noticed, the motion was so smooth. He moved his head from side to side, kissing the tops of my breasts where they weren't covered by my bra. I wanted it off, so I sat up for just a moment to fumble around and unclasp it. Patience didn't stop his kisses as he pulled my bra out of the way, only extended their reach once new skin was exposed. He pressed a kiss to each nipple before he pressed his forehead against the space between them, seemingly to catch his breath. He was panting.

It was only then that I realised that I was too, and I made the effort to join him in calming myself.

He regained his control, and shortly after I did too, he was trailing a hand down my front between my legs. His fingertips ghosted over where I wanted them but lingered at the waistline of my leggings on an upward stroke.

“Please touch me.” I whispered, wrapping my arms around him and sliding them down his back. I realised his robe had slipped off and he was totally bare before me.

“I will, mi amor.” He replied, sitting up for just a moment to slowly remove my leggings. He left my underwear on as he slid my pants down my legs; he wasn't in any rush, carefully easing them over my knees and feet. I couldn't help but admire him; his muscular arms and broad chest, his toned stomach that trailed my eye to his narrow hips and Adonis belt. He was a work of art. His erection, which had waned when we parted from Yab Yum, was back at full force, jutting out from him, bobbing as he moved. I felt so flushed, so suddenly and deeply aroused that when he moved to kneel between my thighs again, I rolled my hips in a bid to get closer. I didn't mean to, I just wanted to be close to him, and he caught my hips and pulled me there so I was partially sitting on his thighs, our intimate areas only a few inches apart.

“I can't wait for you to be inside me.” I moaned, sitting up on my elbows. His fingers moved to my underwear, stroking me ever so lightly. My clit was so engorged he could feel it through the fabric, and he brushed those slim fingers back and forth over it, slow.

“Yes you can.” He said, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

“No, you're right. I can. But do we need to?” I countered, making him laugh.

“I suppose there is nothing stopping us.” He smirked, bending at the hips and leaning over me. He kissed me, just one sweet kiss. “You've been so perfect all evening, you know. You've done so well at being patient.”

“I have?”

“Yes, beautiful.” He breathed, applying more pressure with his fingers, pressing down and rolling my clit in circles through my underwear. I moaned loudly, my thighs shaking either side of his legs as my over sensitive body was finally stimulated in the way I so craved. “Is that good? Tell me what you like.” He whispered, leaning down and kissing my chest again.

“Ohhh, oh gosh.” I sighed, my back arching into his touch. “I like it when you lean over me, when all I can see, hear, smell and feel is you. I love how delicate your fingers are, how slim and long they are and having them inside me is so, so good.” I told him, tangling my hand in his hair. In response to my words, he slipped his hand inside my underwear and swiped up and down my slit, spreading my wetness before he sunk two fingers inside me.

“Like this?” He questioned before taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. My breath became loud and rushed, and he hummed quietly, the vibrations passing over my nipple so nicely before his lips disappeared. “Relax, baby. Breathe.” He reminded me, and I pulled in a long, slow breath to settle myself again.

“Can I touch you?” I asked him, eliciting a moan from him. He lifted his head and sat upright, letting me shift my position so I was sitting in front of him, my legs either side of him. His hand didn't move from inside my underwear, but the position meant his fingers slipped out of me and moved back to my clit.

Keeping my eyes locked with his, I wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked him slowly, keeping my grip loose for now. His lips parted in a silent moan, his eyes softening into a relaxed state of pleasure. We watched each other play with one another; but it was a subdued pleasure, nothing intense or fast paced. It was slow and mindful and we simply savoured the moment with each other. He leaned down to kiss me, I could feel his breath coming slightly faster as he exhaled through his nose; I smiled against those lips. I wondered if he needed reminding to relax; of course not, he soon caught himself and levelled his breath.

He paused, pulling back and hooking his fingers in my underwear. He tugged them down and I lifted my hips to help him remove them from me. My heart was pounding but I remembered my breath and focused on his face.

“Are you ready?” He asked me. I couldn't stop the grin from appearing on my face.

“Yes!” I breathed, and he smiled, carefully taking my ankles in his hands. I wondered what he was doing, but I went with it, and my legs were lifted up, my feet resting on each of his shoulders. He scooted forwards, sinking lower on his knees, parting his thighs wide. I could feel his cock pressing against me and he rocked, sliding it against my slit. My legs were fairly close together in this position, and he pushed his cock through the gap in my thighs, keeping it nestled against my pussy. He groaned, turning his head and planting a kiss on my ankle, wrapping his arms around my legs as he continued to draw out the moment with slow pushes and pulls of his hips, the head of his length nudging my clit each time.

“Ohhh, do you feel that?” He asked me in a whisper, looking down at me. His hair hung around his face, framing it in messy waves.

“I do. You're so warm, oh god, it feels so nice and we're not even…” I trailed off and he nodded in agreement, kissing my ankle again.

After some time he finally reached down, his eyes locking with mine as he guided his cock lower, pressing against my opening. He pushed forward, entering me with ease with how wet I was after so much build up. No, not build up, we weren't building up to something better than what we were doing; we'd simply been enjoying each other’s company. I whined softly, my hips tilting and pressing down, helping to take each inch of him completely.

“That's right, baby, relax for me. Open up and enjoy every second.” He told me, a serene, pleasured expression on his face. He looked so good, so at ease and happy that my own mood lifted infinitely. He didn't move for the longest time, but I found myself enjoying the peace of the moment; just being connected for no reason other than the act itself, we weren't moving towards an ending. A strange emotion came over me, I couldn't place it but it was positive and my eyes welled up. I didn't cry, not really, but I let the emotion fill me, only letting a tear spill down my cheek when Patience began to move.

He reached a hand down, using his thumb to brush away my tear; then he brought it to his tongue. I didn't know what to say to that.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“So okay. So so good. Keep going.” I nodded eagerly, reaching my hands down to touch his knees, wanting to hold him wherever I could. He did keep going, pulling his hips back, almost completely breaking the connection, but swiftly thrusting back in. He kept things slow at first, of course, and I let my breaths leave me loudly, but I made sure to keep them from coming in quick puffs.

“Gosh, you look so beautiful. Do you know how beautiful you are?” He told me, his voice showing just a little bit of strain.

“Patience.” I moaned. “You're such a wonderful- oh god. I love you.” I blurted out, watching his eyes widen for a brief second before his expression became a wistful smile.

“You tell me these things so soon, so easily. You never make me wait.” He responded.

“I love you.” I repeated. Something faltered in him, he wavered for a moment, hips stilling; then he picked up his pace. He seemed to give into something. Not himself, no, I knew that Patience could go like that for hours, so slow and steady. He was giving into me, letting me have the pleasure he'd been holding off on giving me. Of course, he'd given me a lot of pleasure throughout the whole evening, but this kind was different. This was just for me.

“I love you too, my darling.” He told me, his voice a loud, shaky exhale. He stroked his hands up and down my legs and I squeezed my thighs together tightly; something about having my legs closed like that made things more pleasurable, I wasn't sure why but it did. Patience moved one of my feet closer to his face, pressing kisses down the side of my arch towards my heel. “So, so beautiful.” He repeated breathlessly and I practically sobbed, overwhelmed with it all.

“I'm gonna-” I started suddenly, and without me needing to finish my sentence he parted my legs and wrapped them around his waist. He leaned over me, holding himself up with his hands by my head. The change in position put my clit closer to his pubic bone, and it was rubbed with every stroke. I came undone right then, pushed over the edge and sent into a pulsing, shivering, throbbing state of pure bliss. Patience kept going at his current pace, groaning loudly as I squeezed his cock fast and tight.

“Let me make you do that over and over again.” He pleaded, coming down onto his elbows above me so he could reach my lips. The kiss he gave me was intense and wonderful, I wrapped my arms around him and held him there as he continued to rock into me. Post orgasm pleasurable ripples zapped through me and it was heavenly, I never wanted the sensation to end but it soon faded, replaced by that hot unsatisfied sensation of arousal. He really did want to work me up to another orgasm.

“Oh, please, please! Feels so good!” I panted, pressing my face into his neck.

“Please what, mi amor? Tell me everything you want.” Came his whispered response. I realised I was totally out of control, breathing like I'd ran a marathon and rutting up against him like an animal. I calmed myself, slowing down each breath and tightening my legs around him so I could roll my hips with him, not at him.

“I want you to cum with me, I want you to cum inside me when I do, I wanna do it together.” I told him, the chuckle that followed seemed to vibrate against my whole body, making me gasp and whine.

“I can try, though it's not always easy to line them up just right.” He told me. “Not yet though, sweetie. I don't want this to be over.” He told me, turning to kiss my cheeks, my jaw, the tip of my nose. He'd slowed down a little and was grinding his pelvis against me, stimulating everything all at once, even his chest was pressed to mine, giving my nipples some love. I just wanted to merge with him, to disappear into him so I'd never have to part from him. More tears sprung to my eyes and I closed them, immediately feeling him kiss each lid.

“I'm going to cum again.” I told him, feeling my legs tremble around his hips. He hummed quietly, rolling in a more circular fashion, just how he knew I liked to be stimulated. “Ohh!” I whined, my arms tightening around him.

He drew the orgasm from me so easily, he knew just how to please me, he knew me impossibly well and I couldn't help but wonder how. Well, I knew, really. He paid attention to me so closely, taking every sound, movement and expression I made and locking it away in his mind with all the information he needed to coax it from me again. He was such a generous lover, and it made the tears in my eyes spill as the pleasure continued to lap at me with the motion of his body.

“Good girl. Such a good- oh gosh, I need to stop or I'm going to-” Patience was saying, his hips stilling pressed tightly against mine, his cock pushed so deeply inside me I could feel it against my cervix.

“Patience,” I breathed, cupping his face in my hands. “Keep going. Please, you feel so so good I feel like I could cum again right now.” I babbled. He made this grunting sound, his forehead creasing as I squeezed my muscles around him. My body was completely tuned into everything that was happening, every slightly movement or brush of skin on skin, my pussy was so sensitive, but not painfully so like it usually was after orgasm. Multiple orgasms usually took some time for me, I'd have to be worked up from square one each time, but not now. Now I was feeling on the brink again and I was desperate for that release, my muscles all on edge.

“Yeah, baby? Are y-y-you, are you close?” He questioned; Patience rarely stuttered. He only ever did when he was on the edge of his climax, when his brain was running faster than he usually allowed it to. The knowledge of how close he was fuelled my arousal and I moaned with abandon.

“Yes! Move, please, I want to feel you cumming inside me.” I gasped, and that was all he needed to make him move again. His hips snapping back and forth quicker than they had all evening, as quick as they did when we were having sex without tantric practice. He was moaning and grunting in time with his hips, so close to my ear it was all I could hear and I felt myself teetering.

“I'm gonna cum, are you re-ready baby? C-cum for me, cum again and let me feel it when I-I-I-” he was cut of with a gasp. I was cumming again, my fingers gripping onto his hair as the most intense orgasm I'd had all evening – all my life really – battered my senses. The squeezing, pulsing of my muscles that were usually so fast, fluttering, were slower and somehow deeper. They squeezed tighter than usual and felt incredible to the point that I thought I could literally die, like it'd swallow me up and my body would just shut down, unable to handle it.

Amongst my own pleasure I felt Patience reach his peak, his cock twitching and spilling deep inside me and filling me up. I circled my arms around him and held him to me, letting him ride out his orgasm as he cried out in pleasure – relief? – his face pressed into my neck. He continued thrusting after he'd finished, slower and more gentle, until he whimpered quietly at the over stimulation and carefully pulled out.

He didn't move away from me, he shifted and laid between my legs, keeping his face nestled amongst my hair against my neck, slowly catching his breath. I kept my arms securely around him and closed my eyes, relaxing deep into the pile of cushions and blankets with a long, sated sigh. After a moment he started pressing his lips to the space below my ear, giving me quick, soft kisses. I stroked my hands up and down his spine delicately, tracing swirling patterns with my fingertips.

“That was really incredible.” I told him in a hushed tone, pressing my cheek to the top of his head. It went without saying, really, but I wanted to voice the way I was feeling.

“I knew that it would be. But this; just laying with you, is also not to be underrated. I could easily spend a whole evening like this.” He replied, pausing his kisses only momentarily to speak.

“Why don't we? We don't have anywhere to be, anything to do. I'm happy to just stay here, listening to Marvin Gaye with you.” I chuckled softly. The CD we had been listening to had repeated a couple of times since I put it on. I heard him exhale through his nose; a little laugh.

“Very well then.” He said happily, sitting up with a grin on his face. He kissed me, it was a long, slow kiss and he sucked gently on my bottom lip before pulling back. He shifted his position so he was no longer on top of me, but on his side facing me. With a hand on my waist he guided me onto my side too, and he held me close just like that, his forehead meeting mine and our legs entwining. My inner thighs felt wet but it didn't particularly bother me, so I simply left it to deal with later.