#eisc

Your father lost you in a game of cards.

On the surface he was a respectable man, owner of several businesses and an outspoken member of the local community. He also spent much of his free time in underground gambling dens, betting more money than he could possibly afford on poker and mahjong. By the age of fourteen, you had made peace with the fact that you would never go to college. By seventeen, you had dropped out of high school and taken on a job in a hostess bar. By twenty-five you paid almost all of the rent and took full responsibility for getting the groceries and maintaining the house.

On good days, your father would return with diamonds and tiaras and remind you and your mother that you had come from rich stock. On bad days strange men would come knocking at your door, demanding the money your father owed. It was too much for your mother, whose family ran most of Roppongi. Prior to her relationship with your father, she had never had to go without. The shame of it ate away at her until there was nothing left; finally claiming her life when you were sixteen.

You decided at her funeral that you had nothing left to lose.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You were twenty-seven when the unthinkable happened and your father finally lost everything.

Well. Almost everything.

Two weeks later, the strangest and most frightening man of all arrived at your home, ready to change your lives forever.

You knew his name, of course. Everyone did. He was Endeavour, the world’s number two hero, as famous for his flames as he was his stern demeanour. He dominated every room he entered; easily more terrifying than any yakuza you had ever met.

Your father urged you to make tea and then promptly dismissed you, which in itself wasn’t unusual. He hated discussing business matters with you or your late mother in the room, mostly because he didn’t want you to know how dire your situation actually was.

It was the first and last time you gave in to curiosity.

You stayed outside of your father’s door and listened in on the plotting within. Endeavour made a proposal shortly after; a business deal so terrible that your knees buckled underneath you and you had to hold onto the door frame.

He would settle your father’s debts and buy each one of his businesses, but in exchange he wanted to marry you.

Surely your father wouldn’t accept such a fate for you? Surely he wouldn’t agree to have you marry a man thirteen years your senior that you didn't even know?

You had heard that Endeavour was married with children. What on earth did he want with you?

You threw yourself into his office before you could stop yourself.

“Please,” you begged. “Please don’t do this!”

You fell to your knees in front of your father, but the decision had already been made. Endeavour honoured his side of the deal there and then, transferring a down payment to your father’s account, with the promise of more after the wedding.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You were married to Endeavour two days later. There was no ceremony or celebration and you signed away your life while your father counted his money.

The only pretty part of the wedding was the bouquet of white roses your soon to be husband delivered to your door and even then you cut your finger on the thorns. Endeavour took one look at the bloody smears on their beautiful white petals and appeared quite disgusted, burning them on the spot.

You thought of them as you climbed into the back of his car and bit back tears all of the way to your new home. You had sacrificed so much already, but losing any chance at love hit you the hardest. You told yourself that this was the way things had to be; that if you didn’t marry this man, your father would end up dead or worse.

Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder how things might have played out if the roles were reversed. Your father would throw anything he had at a chance of glory, but you weren’t so sure that extended to his loved ones.

You supposed it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered now was the man sitting beside you. In certain lights he didn’t look human; teeth fractionally too long and eyes too sharp. He did not speak his vows, so much as growl them.

You were going to have to have sex with this monster of a man and that knowledge left you twisting and turning your hands in your lap.

You expected him to take you to one of his other apartments, but in the end he took you to his main residence, opening the car door for you in silence and gesturing for you to follow him up the path. His house was massive and you shivered as you saw it, suddenly convinced that it wasn’t only your husband who would swallow you whole.

Every room your husband took you to was bare, as if the house was merely for show and not a family home. His staff stared at you as you passed, as curious of the new bride as any other exotic animal. You wondered how they saw you. Did they think you were despicable to even consider replacing the previous Mrs Todoroki? Did they look at your bright eyes and white wedding dress and think of you as a lamb to the slaughter? Did they think you were a whore? A jezebel who seduced their master for his money? They kept their cards close to their chest.

You weren’t sure what was stranger about the experience: the absurd circumstances behind your arrival at the residence; the way your husband gruffly pointed out each room to you; the fact that even now that you were his wife, he never once looked you in the face. It was all so very overwhelming and you couldn’t help but feel dizzy.

Endeavour’s children had been noticeably absent from the wedding. You knew that the circumstances were unconventional, but it surprised you nonetheless. You were going to be their stepmother. This would be a strange period for all involved.

As it happened, they were absent from their family home too, not only in presence, but sentiment. He pointed out each of his children’s rooms and skimmed over their ages, but that was the only sign they existed at all.

Fuyumi was seventeen, Natsuo fourteen and Shoto the youngest at ten. He passed by the final room with little in the way of acknowledgement, though you paused to read the name on the door.

Touya

The door was ajar, with just enough space for you to see inside, though you didn’t get the chance, for your husband noticed you weren’t following and came back to take you by the arm.

“You won’t be going into that room,” he said, without a hint of doubt in his voice.

You wondered why such an innocuous room was forbidden, though didn’t get the chance to wonder about it for long, as you arrived at the master bedroom.

Of all of the rooms in the house, this was the emptiest. It had a king sized bed with plain white bed covers, a dressing table and simple wardrobe and a set of bedside drawers. That was it, though. There were no photographs on the walls, no bookshelves, no possessions. Much like the rest of the house, it was as if no one lived there. The closest thing to a personal item was the mirror on the dressing table.

Endeavour closed the door behind you and it echoed on your senses, like the snap of a bear trap around your ankle. You were alone with him now, far away from home, with no one to save you or take you away. Your eyes filled with tears before you could stop them.

“Strip,” he said, with no room for argument.

“No,” you whispered, hugging your arms around your body.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of this and didn’t bother anymore to hide it. You didn’t want to offer up your body to him. You couldn’t think of anything more frightening or distasteful than his hands on your skin.

“Strip,” he said again, but you refused him just as before.

It was just as you had feared; this man wasn’t used to or fond of being told ‘no’.

He grabbed one of the arms you had been using to shield your body. He was strong, too strong, and your attempts to resist were fruitless.

“We won’t be having sex,” he said, as if it would comfort you, “but I will see you.”

For some reason, that only made you cry harder. He squeezed your arm, sending a rush of heat through your skin.

“No,” you said, voice trembling and arm stinging. “I’d rather die.”

You looked up into his face and realised that this was the first time since his arrival on your doorstep that he’d actually looked at you. His gaze drifted from your tearful face to your heated arm to the cut on your finger from the wedding bouquet. You hadn’t gotten the chance to put on a band aid. He stared at the dressing table mirror behind you for an uncomfortably long time.

Something changed in his expression and he dropped your arm, saying nothing as you held it to your body. He said nothing, in fact, even as he left the room and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving you alone in the enormous bedroom.

You dropped to the floor and hugged your knees to your chest, sobbing silently at this terrible sequence of events. You hated your father, hated your new home, hated the heavy footsteps of your new husband as he prowled the hallways.

You stared into the dressing table mirror as he had, taking in your tearstained face and white wedding dress. You knew that under different circumstances you were beautiful. There had never been any point in denying it. You had taken advantage of it at the hostess bar, using your youth and good looks to make a fortune.

You were not beautiful then, though. Your hair was a mess and your arm pink where he’d held onto you. You rubbed the tears from your eyes and got to your feet, stepping closer to the mirror and loosening your gown.

He had told you that he would not have sex with you, and you wondered why, running your fingers over your exposed chest. Many men had tried and failed to get you into bed, be it buying expensive trinkets or leaving you hefty tips. You were all too aware that your body was the only thing you had left to barter and Endeavour meant to take ownership of that too. He had not lost control that day, but someday he would.

You vowed that you would never allow it, no matter what it took.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You spent the evening listening out for Endeavour’s footsteps in the hall, waiting for the inevitable moment he came back to the bedroom, to sleep if nothing else. He never came back, though, and you fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, sprawled across the bed.

You woke a matter of hours later with a crick in your neck, eyes burning from keeping them open for so long. You squeezed your eyes shut and willed your surroundings to be different when you opened them. With any luck, you’d wake up back in your own bed to your own alarm clock, your father calling for you to get up and make coffee.

That’s not what happened, though. You were still in the master bedroom at Endeavour’s house -now your house- in the same wedding dress you’d had on the night before. You wondered what time it was. Sunlight shone through the blinds but, given it was the middle of summer, that didn’t mean much. It could have been four in the morning or two in the afternoon.

Someone was trying to wake you, though, someone knocking at your door far too gently to be your husband. You sat up and hobbled over to the door, wondering what on earth would greet you when you opened it.

In the end, you need not have worried.

It was a member of the house staff, clutching a pile of clothes and letting herself into the room the moment you opened the door.

“Good morning,” she said without looking at you, setting the clothes down onto the bed. “I’m here to get you ready for breakfast.”

“Oh, I…”

“Mr. Todoroki has decided you should wear this today,” she said, picking up a white summer dress from the pile.

“Thank you,” you said, “but I-”

You had clothes of your own. You remembered packing them the day before your wedding.

“Your bathroom is across the hallway,” she said, as if you’d said nothing at all. “Let me know if there’s something else you require.”

You accepted the outfit she held out to you, deciding to humour her for now. You would change into your own clothes when she wasn’t looking.

“One more thing,” she said, as you headed for the door. “Mr. Todoroki wanted you to have this.”

She held out a small jewellery box and you stared at it, picking it up in curiosity. You already had a wedding ring, what could this be?

You didn’t want to open it while the other woman was there, so you carried it into the bathroom with you.

You had never had your own bathroom before and, much like everything else in the house, this one was unnecessarily large. Someone had filled the cupboards with everything you might need: freshly laundered towels, aspirin, soaps, a toothbrush still in its packaging. It was as if you had entered a hotel bathroom and not a room of your very own.

You opened up the jewellery box as you ran yourself a bath. Inside was a pair of diamond earrings that sparkled in the light. They were beautiful, undoubtedly, but you weren’t sure you wanted to wear them. You had worn your mother’s earrings almost every day since her funeral and didn’t want to change that now.

You closed the box and set it to one side, stealing glances at it as you soaked in the bathtub. You would thank your husband later. It was the least you could do.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You arrived at the breakfast table a short while later, stomach fluttering from nerves and hunger. You had no idea what awaited you, only that your mouth watered at the smell of food, in no small part because you hadn’t eaten anything since the previous day.

The housekeeper showed you to the breakfast table and, for a moment, you wished you had stayed in your room. Suddenly you were the main focus of four sets of eyes.

Endeavour and his children all sat at the table, clearing their plates in silence. The children appeared more than a little baffled to see you there and your stomach churned. Something about this was very, very wrong.

“Sit,” said Endeavour, motioning to the seat closest to him. That wasn’t wholly necessary, for all three of his children seemed to have positioned themselves as far away from him as possible.

You crossed the room, conscious all of the time of everyone’s eyes on you.

“This is (Name),” said Endeavour as you sat down beside him. “She’s going to be your mother from now on.”

In that moment, you realised the real reason for his children’s absence at your wedding. This was the first they had heard about the marriage.

You couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be in their shoes. If your father had brought home a strange new woman following your mother’s death, you would almost certainly have hated her guts.

You wanted to tell them that you had about as much desire to be there as they did, but the tension in the room was too much to bear.

“I…”

The oldest of the two boys, presumably Natsuo, was the first to speak.

“What the hell do you mean? What...wh…”

“Natsuo,” murmured the girl, presumably Fuyumi. “Don’t…”

“Isn’t it enough that mother’s in a hospital because of you? Now you’re going to replace her with some...some…”

“Natsuo,” said Fuyumi, stopping her brother before he could land on the word ‘whore’.

Endeavour sipped his tea, apparently used to these sorts of outbursts. You wondered how many arguments could prompt this sort of indifference.

“As I said. (Name) is your new mother. You will give her the proper respect.”

Just as the night before, he offered no room for argument. The table fell into silence once again, though only for a matter of seconds.

“I’m not going to call her mother,” said Natsuo, to which his sister elbowed him in the ribs.

“Natsuo, that’s enough,” she hissed, before turning to you with a weak smile. “Welcome to the family...m…”

She cleared her throat, glancing from you to Endeavour, who watched her in turn.

“Mother.”

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

Endeavour left for work shortly after, announcing that you were not to leave the grounds except to meet him at the door when he returned. Just like that, he left you alone with his children, two of which swiftly dismissed themselves from the table. Only the youngest remained and he stole glances at you every so often with his mismatched eyes. You wondered how he had ended up with such a prominent burn mark on his face. You told yourself you didn’t want to know.

He got to his feet after clearing his plate, conflict visibly playing out across his face.

“Excuse me,” he said, before leaving the room.

You picked at your food for a little while before giving up, Endeavour’s words playing over and over in your mind. You were not to leave the grounds. You were to be the mother of his children, but none of them would be yours. He would decide what clothes you wore, which rooms of the house you went in. You had come to him a virgin and, as he had no intention of having sex with you, would remain so for the rest of your life. Overnight your life had become just as muted as the white roses he had picked out for you.

You wondered why his previous wife had ended up in a hospital. Had her circumstances been at all similar to yours?

No, you decided, they couldn’t have been. She was the mother of each one of the children at his breakfast table. There had clearly been some sort of physicality between them.

In that case, why were you so different?

What had changed in the past few years?

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

After breakfast you went to your bedroom to change out of the summer dress and into your own clothes, only to make a shocking discovery. You remembered packing your clothes; remembered sobbing into them as you took them from your drawers. You had expected them to have been taken into your wardrobe or stored somewhere in your room, but you couldn’t find them anywhere. The only clothes in your wardrobe were the ones the housekeeper had brought in earlier.

You told yourself that it had to be a mistake. You rifled through the wardrobe and under your bed for a flash of colour or anything familiar, though found nothing of the sort. When you flagged down the house staff, they seemed just as confused as you. Mr. Todoroki had said nothing about your possessions coming to the house. He had, however, made it perfectly clear that you were to have new clothes based on his own incredibly specific preferences. You were to have nothing made of silk or satin, no lace embroidery or skirts above the knee. Your necklines were to be no lower than your collarbones and the heels on your shoes three inches high at most.

He meant for no one to see you but himself and that only made you more determined to hide yourself from view.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

Days passed, each as slowly as the next, a never ending cycle of silent meals, boredom and your husband’s predictable nightly visits. Every night, just as every night before it, he would close the door to your bedroom and speak the same single word.

“Strip.”

You refused every night and he pressed the matter over and over until he grew tired.

That first night was the only time he ever touched you. He did not lean down for a kiss when he returned to the house. He never once reached for your hands.  He would slam the door behind him and stomp around the house but he did not try to drag your clothes off himself.

Weeks passed by, in fact, without you so much as sharing a bed. A lot of the time he did not even eat meals with the rest of the family. The house staff explained that he very often slept away from the main building, in a secluded part of the estate once reserved for his youngest son.

Sometimes you slept naked, just to spite him.

One day, you told yourself, he would get bored of your constant refusals and send you back to your father. Until then you would have to be resilient.

You thought you had everything worked out. You thought you had him all worked out.

As with so many other aspects of your life, though, you soon realised your mistake.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

Three weeks into your marriage, you sat on the porch with a bowl of shaved ice in an attempt to combat the summer heat. By then you knew every square inch of the garden; knew the title of every book in the house. As miserable as it was, the most exciting part of your day was waiting at the gate for your husband, but even that was hours from then.

Your only other source of entertainment was the cat that very often came to bask in the afternoon sun, though more recently had taken to nudging you for pets to the head. On this particular day, it was chasing butterflies through the garden and you laughed as you watched. You wished you could be as free as that cat, coming in and out of this household whenever you pleased. You missed your friends, missed going out for drinks, missed going shopping for new shoes. Hell, you even missed your father. You hadn’t heard from him since the wedding.

You took a spoonful of shaved ice, enjoying the cold against your tongue. For the briefest of moments, all was right in the world.

That is, until the butterfly the cat had been chasing changed course and flew into the house, leaving the cat to follow suit. You set down your bowl and cursed under your breath, getting up to catch it before chaos ensued.

You rushed through the hallways, peering into every corner for the cat or the butterfly and seeing neither. You wondered where they had gone and wandered deeper into the house.

The cat streaked across your path, heading towards the bedrooms and you gave chase, reaching out to catch it and following it through an open door. You didn’t stop to think about which room you had gone into, far too caught up in the euphoria of scooping the cat into your arms. The moment you turned to leave, however, you realised your mistake.

This room was even emptier than the others, save for an altar lined with photographs of the same boy. Touya, you realised. There was no one else it could be.

This was the room Endeavour had told you not to come into and in that moment you understood why. When your mother died, you had been angry at everyone; yourself for every argument you had ever had; your father for allowing such a tragedy to happen. You hadn’t wanted to go to her funeral, didn’t want to accept that any of it was real.

You couldn’t imagine how it felt to lose a child and it must have shown in your body language, for the cat suddenly wriggled out of your arms and escaped through the open door.

You hugged your arms around your body, a chill creeping up your spine. Touya gazed out at you from every photograph, the same stern look in his eyes that Endeavour had. You weren’t supposed to be there and even the room seemed to know.

“What are you doing here?”

Someone called to you from the doorway, dragging you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Natsuo standing there, practically trembling with anger.

“I,” you said, realising how it must have looked. “I’m sorry, I-“

“This is my brother’s room,” he said. “You have no right to be in here.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, “a cat came in here and...I’m sorry...I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn't,” said Natsuo. “Why would you? It’s not like he’d ever tell you the truth. Even the worst of the worst would turn their noses up if they knew.”

He laughed miserably and you wondered what he meant. No one would turn their noses up at a grieving parent.

“How does it feel,” he said, “being married to a murderer?”

At that, your blood ran cold.

“What are you talking about?”

You didn’t like where this conversation was going.

You remembered how you had felt on your wedding day; your observation that Endeavour was more monster than man.

You had fallen so far into good behaviour and small victories that you had forgotten your fear on that first night.

You clapped a hand over your mouth for fear that you’d be sick and stumbled back out of the house. You needed fresh air, needed to escape. You walked along the garden path and didn’t stop, leaving the grounds far behind you.

You knew Endeavour had forbidden you from leaving. You knew he would be furious when he returned home and found you gone. You couldn’t stop, though, walking as far as the business district before finally stopping for air.

You hadn’t planned any sort of escape and it showed. You had no money for train fare and had left your phone in the house.

There was really only one place you could go.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

White Rabbit was the best known hostess bar in Musutafu and for good reason. It was sleek and stylish and, most importantly, discreet. All of its employees were carefully vetted and given months of training, making their debut only when they were as confident at karaoke as they were making cocktails.

The bar didn't open until the evening, but the boss was always on site by noon, crunching numbers and checking stock.

He was polishing glasses at the bar when you walked through the door and it was immediately clear that he didn’t recognise you.

“Ahhh, apologies, we aren’t open just yet!”

“Not even to me?”

He froze when you got a little closer, eying you from head to toe.

“It can’t be… (Name)??!?!”

He set aside the glass before you could answer, rushing out from behind the bar to look at you properly.

“As I live and breathe,” he said, “I didn’t recognise you.”

You glanced at your reflection in a nearby mirror, taking in your sweaty face and modest dress. You weren’t sure you would have recognised yourself either in his position.

He drew you into a hug and it took everything you had not to cry. You were still a minor when you interviewed for a job in his bar, but he took you on anyway, concerned that if left to wander the streets you would end up somewhere far less reputable. He kept you in training until your eighteenth birthday and even then kept you away from one on one sessions until you turned twenty.

He poured you a drink and you gave him the bare bones of the past few weeks, from your sudden marriage to your new role as a stepmother to your husband’s desire for nothing more than to see you naked.

You said nothing of your earlier conversation with Natsuo. That part was still sinking in.

The boss nodded at just the right moments, though didn’t seem at all surprised by anything you told him.

“I did wonder if that would be the case,” he said at last. “I suppose I share some of the blame in this matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...you see...I was the one who told him your name.”

“You what ?”

This wasn’t a betrayal, but it felt like one.

Your boss sighed and took a seat beside you, his own story to tell.

About a year and a half ago a man came into the bar, offering obscene amounts of money for his presence to be kept a secret. He refused to hand over his name and was almost unrecognizable without his costume or fiery beard, but your boss was far too clever to be fooled. He knew within an hour or two that this man was the flame hero and was only too happy to adhere to his requests. If Endeavour became a regular, there was a lot of money in it for him.

It paid off, for Endeavour did indeed become a regular, even if your boss didn’t fully understand his reasons until later. He had no interest in booking company and always ordered the same drink, demanding that only the boss waited on his table. He wanted to be left alone and drink in peace and for months that was exactly what he did.

That all changed about a year ago, when one of the hostesses caught his attention. You. Endeavour still wanted to drink in privacy, with only the boss to attend him, but he also wanted to be positioned where he could see you. You and only you were permitted to mix his drinks.

You could barely believe your ears at this new information. You remembered having to drop whatever you were doing to mix strawberry daiquiris for a VIP, though would never in a million years have guessed it was Endeavour.

The mystery of the Strawberry Daiquiri Man had plagued you for months. You had chatted about it with the other girls and even tried to wheedle details from your boss. He was a professional, though, and far too discreet to let anything slip.

Endeavour’s requests soon got out of hand. He paid extra to have you spend the night at the bar instead of entertaining customers. He gave you hefty tips, he had the boss send you jewellery, all of which you sold shortly after.

About six months ago he asked the boss how much he would have to pay to sleep with you, to which the boss refused to answer. Some things just weren’t for sale, even to a VIP. Of course, as you yourself knew quite well, Endeavour did not take kindly to being told no. He told the boss that he had to have you; he needed you to be his and his alone. After many not too subtle threats, be it asking how fire resistant the bar actually was to implying that he might look the other way the next time he learned of trouble in the area, the boss caved and told him your full name. He offered up no further information, but that was all it took for him to find you.

The rest, as they say, was history. He showed up on your doorstep and bought you from your father, finally possessing you completely.

“I don’t understand,” you said, stirring your soda with your straw. “On our wedding night he said he had no intentions of having sex with me...but you’re telling me he was willing to pay?”

“I think he would have done just about anything for the privilege. I’ve never seen a man so heated...so to speak.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” you said. “Any of it.”

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

The weight of recent revelations was almost too much. With your boss’s blessing, you let yourself into the dressing room upstairs to take a breather and evaluate your situation.

You hadn’t realised how much you missed the familiar scent of stale perfume and pot pourri that lingered in every corner. There was still a pile of glossy magazines on the dressing table; still a set of abandoned pantyhose draped over the stool. You had spent so much time there over the past decade that it felt like coming home.

You were tempted to sit down at the table and indulge yourself further, but had a sudden flash of inspiration. You hadn’t come into this room when you handed in your notice. You had been too upset at the prospect of never coming back. As a consequence, you hadn’t emptied your locker, where you kept a set of spare clothes in case of booze related emergencies.

Your fingers shook as you entered the combination, praying that the boss hadn’t emptied it ahead of hiring a replacement. Fate seemed to be on your side, though, for jeans and an envelope of cash greeted you the moment it clicked open.

You snatched up the envelope and counted the notes. You had always kept a secret stash away from the house, knowing that your father wasn’t above searching your room in search of money. There was enough there for a plane ticket; enough to cover a hotel for several weeks.

You realised that this was your chance to escape.

You also realised that you weren’t going to take it.

Endeavour had found you using just a name. He would almost certainly figure out that one of the first places you would go was the White Rabbit. He had already threatened to burn the bar; who knew what he would do if he got into his head that the boss had helped you flee?

And then there was Natsuo’s revelation. Considering how he felt about you, it wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that he had been lying to you. Perhaps your swift escape was exactly what he wanted.

That said, if Endeavour truly had killed a child, should you leave his children alone with him?

You still had a great many questions. You didn’t understand why Endeavour had wanted so desperately to sleep with you, only to tell you he never would. Why had he gone to such a bar in the first place? What had happened to Touya? Why did your husband live away from the main residence?

There were too many pieces to this puzzle and none of them fitted together, but one thing you knew for certain.

No matter where you went, he would almost certainly track you down. If you went back, at least, it would be on your own terms.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You returned to the house a short while later, just in time for your daily text message from your husband. He always texted you before leaving the office and then again a few minutes later if you had not yet replied. You weren’t sure what would happen if you failed to respond to the second one, largely because waiting for Endeavour to text was the most eventful part of your day.

You responded to the text and then packed away the clothes from your locker. The envelope of money you stashed away in the bathroom, emptying out the bottle of aspirin and rolling your notes inside.

It was like smuggling contraband and easily the most fun you had had since arriving at the house. It gave you a newfound confidence for when your husband came to your room. You were going to ask him about his presence at the bar; you were going to ask him about Touya. You felt brave enough to do just about anything.

That night, though, he didn’t come and you kept yourself awake long into the early hours of the morning, listening out for his footsteps as you had on that first night. Once again, you fell asleep sprawled across the bed, only to be woken by the house staff the following morning.

Endeavour, as it turned out, had outfoxed you.

He had arranged for you to take a trip that weekend to a private onsen in the mountains. As husband and wife you would almost certainly have to share a room and you would have little choice but to take off your clothes.

You scowled in the car all of the way there. This was supposed to be your victory. You were supposed to be the one holding all of the cards.

You refused to undress for him. Just the thought made you angry.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You had to hand it to him. The mountains were beautiful.

You peered out of the window as you arrived in your room, taking in the sight of the summer flowers and open air. It almost distracted you from the elephant in the room; the single futon you would share for the night. You refused to think about it, grateful for the simple hiking trail around the property. You occupied yourself with admiring the view, wandering ahead of Endeavour and snapping pictures on your phone of the skyline.

Your stomach churned as you sat down to dinner, time steadily running out. You had no idea how you were going to get out of this. You couldn’t think of a single scenario where you came out on top. You stared into space as you showered your body, fastening your towel far tighter than was necessary and pinning your hair loosely in the hopes that it would fall.

Despite the steam and summer heat, you shivered as you stepped out towards the bath. Under ordinary circumstances you would have been excited at the prospect of relaxing under the stars, but right then you were terrified. You clenched your hands into fists to hide how much they shook.

The simmering heat; the silent night. Was this how it felt to enter a dragon’s lair?

“Sit there,” said Endeavour, pointing to the side of the bath.

You blinked.

You had expected him to watch you undress. Why, then, was he instructing you to sit away from the water?

Your bewilderment must have shown in your face, for he sighed deeply.

“Just sit there,” he said, sounding just as frustrated as every time you had refused him.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you went to sit down where he had asked. Endeavour waited for you to be fully seated before stepping towards the water. He looked you straight in the eye and then cast aside the towel covering his waist.

You willed yourself to be modest and look away from his nakedness, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

When he wore clothes he was imposing.

Without them he was magnificent.

He had a broad chest and sculpted waist, all of which was covered in a fine layer of hair. The evening sunlight cast shadows across his muscles, highlighting every contour and scar. He practically shone where the water touched him and your mouth ran dry.

His hair grew thicker on the lower half of his body, though it did nothing to hide how thick his thighs were, nor the sheer enormity of his cock even while flaccid. You caught yourself staring at it, wondering how big it would be at full tilt. If his fingers were anything to go by, it would leave you limping for days.

Your stomach fluttered, though not from fear. Had his jawline always been so sharp? Had his eyes always been so bright?

It was as if he had been carved from stone and he let you stare at him, not in the least bit self conscious. He sat down in the water and leaned back against the edge you were sitting on, close enough that you could reach him if you wanted to.

You realised with horror that you did.

“Something wrong?”

“N-no,” you said, turning away to look over the horizon. “Nothing.”

You weren’t used to this sort of desire. It crept over you unbidden, like the steam from the bath.

You closed your eyes, taking in the sounds of birdsong and gurgling water.

“Move over,” you said, shifting positions.

“Wh-”

Endeavour turned to you, mystified.

“Don’t look,” you pouted, getting to your feet and fiddling with your towel. You cast it aside like a second skin and stepped down into the ghostly waters

The water was hotter than you had thought; it prickled your skin as you sank. You didn’t know why you were surprised. Endeavour was a flame hero, it made sense that he was used to heat.

He simmered next to you even then, warmth radiating from his body.

You sank down to your collar bones, shielding as much of your body from view as you did when fully clothed. You sat in silence, listening to the sound of birds overhead. You realised that this was the longest you had been alone with your husband since the wedding.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Hmm?”

“For the jewellery.”

You still hadn’t gotten the chance to thank him. The only time he normally spoke to you was when he asked you to undress. It was leagues out of the ordinary and he seemed to think so too, for he stayed quiet for a few seconds.

Finally he nodded his head and grunted by way of response.

“You don’t wear them,” he said.

“No. They’re just so beautiful...I’m afraid I might ruin them.”

He fell quiet again at that, awkwardness bleeding out of his words when he next spoke.

“I would like it...if you wore them.”

Perhaps it was the change in your surroundings; perhaps it was your mutual state of undress. Whatever the explanation, this was not the man who had grabbed your arm on that first night. This one was subdued and clumsy in his kindness and you wondered which one was real.

You hugged your knees to your chest, just as you had on your wedding night. This time, though, you did not cry.

“Endeavour,” you said.

“Hmmm?”

“What happened to Touya?”

He stiffened at that and, for a second, you were sure the water burned. You realised that you had certainly poked at a sore spot, but knew it would be a long time before you got such an opportunity again.

“Why are you asking about that?”

The tension in his body showed in his voice too.

“I just...I’ve heard... certain things.”

“Like what?”

You chose your words carefully, making sure not to name Natsuo.

“I heard that...well…”

You turned to look at him and he glared right back, searching your face for hints at what you were about to ask.

“Well? Spit it out.”

You told yourself that this was no time to be afraid.

“I heard he was dead...and…”

“And I killed him?”

You closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

Endeavour sighed, sinking down into the water.

You willed him to tell you it was a lie; a bit of maliciousness on his son’s part. In Natsuo’s place you would have done the same.

He didn’t, though.

“That’s right,” he said. “I did kill him.”

Despite the heat from the water, the steam, from him, his words sent shivers down his spine. He said it as casually as if you’d asked if he had remembered to pack a handkerchief.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” He asked. “Does it make you feel better?”

He moved to get to his feet, but you reached for his arm. He froze on the spot at your touch and you realised that this was the first time you had touched him of your own volition.

“Wait,” you said, taking advantage of his hesitation. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“I’m your wife,” you said. “Right now it’s my main concern.”

You had him and you knew it. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and cursed under his breath, though didn’t try to shrug you off.

“Fine,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. From the beginning.”

You didn’t want to flinch from this. You wouldn’t flinch from this. He was a pro hero and there had to be a reason, even if it wasn’t one you wanted to hear.

“Touya was my first born,” he said. “My first attempt.”

“Attempt? Attempt at what?”

He glared at you and you fell silent.

“I’ve been the number two since I was twenty,” he said. “I knew I always would be even then. With my own strength, I could never beat All Might. Another’s strength, though, refined and perfected…"

He lifted a hand out of the water and clenched it into a fist, the water on his hand turning to steam.

“My knowledge...my techniques,” he said, “everything I am and more…”

“And that was Touya?”

“Touya,” he nodded, “and then Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shoto. Until we got to Shoto not one of them was perfect. Fuyumi and Natsuo both favoured their mother’s side of the family. Touya favoured fire, but inherited his mother’s constitution.”

“Constitution?”

“R-My ex wife is an ice user. When Touya got his quirk, he set himself on fire,” he said. “My body is built to burn, but his wasn’t. His was built to insulate and trap heat to protect against the cold. However hot his flames burned, his body burned twice over. If he used his quirk for too long, he broke out in blisters and burns. Fire users run hotter than most people and Touya…well...his flames ran hotter than mine.”

You swore you saw him smile at that. You got the feeling he meant it in more ways than one.

“Shoto is my heir,” he said. “He is the perfect combination of fire and ice. His body does not burn or freeze. That one will achieve what I could not…”

“But…”

“...but it came at a cost. Namely, my ex wife’s mental state. I made a lot of mistakes...did some things I’m not proud of. One day I… heard Shoto screaming. His mother had burned him. I’ve never heard a noise like it. I don’t think I ever will.”

“If she was an ice user, how did she burn him?”

“Kettle.”

“Oh.”

“She’s in a hospital now,” he said. “I had her taken away. Our marriage was over.”

“Because she hurt your son?”

“She damaged my property.”

You didn’t know why you were surprised to hear him speak such a way of his children when he had told your boss that he had to possess you. Even so, it stung.

Not to mention, you still had questions.

“But… what does this have to do with Touya?”

“He was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Rei, my ex wife...Touya’s death was what truly broke her in the end.”

“What happened to him?”

“One day, in training, we both lost our temper. His technique was wrong; he’d been slacking off; he hadn’t taken heed of any of my lessons. He told me he didn’t want to be a hero, which was ridiculous. Of course he’d be one. Once he managed to endure his own flames, he would be an even stronger flame user than me.”

You had a feeling you knew what was coming next.

“He was angry that day. I told him he’d be a hero whether he wanted to or not and he told me that he’d rather die. In the end...he chose death. I sent him away...somewhere he could still be of use. A government program...They told me later that he burned his flames far hotter than he ever had before, so hot that he burned himself alive. He died in the hospital two days later. The doctors told me that even if he had survived, he would have needed full body skin grafts and the kickback from his quirk would be far more severe than before.”

Endeavour closed his eyes, leaning back against the water’s edge.

“I don’t understand,” you said, “Touya killed himself. That wasn’t you.”

“I didn’t hand Rei the kettle either,” he said, “but I might as well have.”

You weren’t sure what to say. It felt inappropriate somehow. In the end, you settled on your own suspicions.

“How long ago...with Rei, I mean? When did she leave?”

“Two years ago. Why?”

“No reason,” you said. “I was just curious, is all.”

You weren’t lying; you really were curious, just not necessarily in the way he thought. He didn’t know that you had talked to your boss and, consequently, knew he had started coming to the White Rabbit only a matter of months after his wife’s hospital admission.

The pieces of the puzzle were changing shape, though you still couldn’t quite see the greater picture. You still couldn’t understand why he had married you; why he had so desperately needed to possess you, only to hold you at a distance. There was a reason somewhere and you were infuriatingly close to finding it.

Endeavour watched you, no doubt trying to gauge your reaction. He did not seem to approve of your silence and stood up once again, getting up out of the baths and reaching for his towel.

“Wait,” you said, turning to face him.

You wanted to thank him for telling you the truth; for exposing himself to you so unapologetically.

You stood up yourself and exposed your own body, though only to waist level. You straightened your back and looked him dead in the eye in an attempt to hide how nervous you actually were. You might have worked in a hostess bar, but no man had ever seen you naked. You waited there in silence, watching as he took in the swell of your breasts and shade of your nipples. You wondered what sort of expectations he might have harboured and if the real thing lived up to them. Whatever the case may be, he finally gathered his composure with a ‘tccch’ and stormed back inside.

You decided to count that one as a victory.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You stayed in the bath for a while longer before returning to your room.

You realised as you reached for the door handle that you had forgotten all about the shared futon, which filled you with a far different sort of fear than before. You now knew what your husband looked like without his clothes; if you slept beside him you wouldn’t get any sleep. All it would take was a brush of his body against yours to leave you thinking about how he had looked climbing out of the water.

To your surprise, Endeavour seemed to have already anticipated this. During your absence, he had swapped the double bed for two singles, along with a shield to divide both beds. Your husband had already gone to sleep with his back to the barricade, snoring softly.

It was a kind gesture and you couldn’t help but smile as you changed into your nightclothes and tucked yourself into bed, eyes darting to the shield and your husband’s silhouette. Even then, laid on his side, his back was broader than any you’d seen. You wondered how it might feel to drag your nails across it and then cursed yourself for doing so.

He was just a man, you told yourself. There were millions of them in the world.

You hadn’t seen all of them naked, though.

You didn’t want them as you wanted him.

He slept with his back to the shield, but you slept facing it, smoothing your fingertips over the wood until you fell asleep.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

The next few weeks were a new brand of torture.

The summer grew even hotter and you spent much of your time on the porch, drinking iced tea and fanning yourself to no avail. No matter how many ice cold baths you took, no matter how few clothes you wore as you slept, no matter how many windows you opened, nothing could cool you down and you feared the summer heat wasn’t entirely to blame.

Your husband no longer begged you to undress. Since returning from the onsen he had not come to your room at all and it bothered you more than you liked to admit.

You wondered if you had made a terrible mistake by letting him see you.

Every time you crossed paths in the house, you caught yourself eying the parts of his clothes that pulled against his muscles, knowing what lay beneath.

It was a problem.

You were starting to want him to come to your room. You wanted him to beg and plead to see more of you, just so you could have the pleasure of telling him no.

You wanted his attention, wanted to feel his gaze on your body, though had to settle for your own fingers. You touched yourself every night that he neglected you, running a hand between your legs and tentatively running your finger across your clit, which had never seen so much attention in the twenty seven years you had walked the earth.

You would think of him as you dipped your fingers into your folds, thinking of how much bigger his hands were than yours. You wondered how much he would have to warm you up before you could comfortably take his cock.

Every night you touched yourself and brought yourself to a boil, though it did nothing to ease the pressure inside of you. You would lay there, flat on your back and legs trembling, pleasure overtaking each of your senses, and none of it would be enough. It didn’t matter how hard you came, how much you changed positions or technique, your real desire ran far deeper.

One night, two and a half months after your wedding, you gave up on trying to make yourself cum.

You wanted him to want you so you could push him away...

You wanted him to want you...

You wanted him…

You wanted…

“Fuck,” you hissed, flopping back against the covers. “Ffffuck.”

You were sure you were going crazy. Every time he passed you now, you had to squeeze your thighs together.

This was how it felt to suffocate.

This was how it felt to die.

...die….

The word lingered at the back of your mind.

How ironic that only a short time ago you had told the same man that you’d rather die than let him see you naked, let alone touch you.

You closed your eyes, only for them to snap right back open. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position and stared across at your reflection in the dressing table mirror.

Could it really have been that simple?

You thought back to Endeavour’s tale at the onsen; his son’s last words before burning himself alive.

I’d rather die.

They were the same as yours on your wedding night and only now did you make the connection. Endeavour had stared into the mirror then too, and you had always assumed it was your reflection that made him flinch. You knew now, though, that you were wrong. He had been looking at his own.

That realisation was your rosetta stone, leaving every other piece of information to fall into place.

He had introduced you to his children as their new mother, for in his mind he had ruined the last one. What was it he had called Touya? His first attempt? He had told you without a hint of hesitation that each of his children had been born in the hopes of improving upon the last. Refined and perfected...an extension of himself.

You realised that the same was true of your marriage.

Losing his son and sending his wife away to a hospital had almost certainly brought to light a number of harsh truths. You weren’t the only one who had looked at him and seen a monster.

Just like Rei, you were the means to an end.

You were an exercise in self control.

He had held himself at a distance to prove to himself that he could. He had chosen to keep you chaste and childless because he desired the opposite and acting on his previous desires had ended in disaster.

Just like that, you understood your situation.

You knew what you had to do.

You got up from the bed and rummaged through your wardrobe, dragging out the pile of clothes you had smuggled out of the White Rabbit . Among your jeans and spare shoes was a silk nightgown, left behind for the occasions you slept at the bar. You pulled it on like a second skin, giving yourself a twirl and watching in the mirror as the fabric caught the light.

Next, you reached into your dressing table drawers for the various pieces of jewellery he had given you over the past few weeks. For the first time in over a decade, you took out your mother’s earrings and swapped them with the shining diamond ones from your husband.

You combed out your hair and fastened your nightgown so tightly that it hid how bare you were underneath, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before leaving the room. You paused in the kitchen, a wry smile breaking out across your face at the scheme coming to mind.

┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑

You had never been to the empty side of the property where Endeavour lived. You had no idea how he occupied himself when he wasn’t at work or sitting in stoic silence. You wondered what he was doing as you slipped away from the house, the moonlight shining on your pale nightgown.

You never did find out, knowing only that his voice rumbled through the door as you knocked.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, finally able to relate to your gambler of a father. This was just as much of a gamble as a round of poker, even if you knew you held all of the cards.

He had been getting ready for bed, wearing loose jogging pants and a tank that left little to the imagination. You weren’t sure who exactly he expected to visit at such a time of day, but you knew within an instant that it wasn’t you, much less as you were now. His eyes darted from your opalescent nightgown to your loose hair, to the earrings that twinkled as they hit the lamplight, to the blood red cocktails you had mixed before leaving.

Strawberry Daiquiris, stained red with Grenadine. Your speciality. His favourite.

“What are you doing here?”

You didn’t answer, instead walking straight past him.

As you had suspected, this house was a near perfect copy of the main building and you made your way to the bedroom as if by heart. You stopped at the door to the master bedroom, turning back to check if he followed, just as he had on the day of your wedding.

You were not nearly as nervous this time around.

This time you wanted him to swallow you whole.

He had not followed you, preferring to watch you prowl his home as if it belonged to you. You reached for the door handle and cocked an eyebrow.

“Well? Are you coming?”

That was enough to leave him lumbering forwards.

You stepped inside of the bedroom, waiting for him to follow before taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

“What are y-”

“Peppermint,” you said, to which he appeared confused.

“Peppermint?”

“It’s my safe word. What’s yours?”

He scratched his chin, though stepped closer. You got the feeling he had never had to think of one before, much less used one.

“I don’t have one,” he said at last. “Never needed one.”

“Peppermint it is, then,” you said, before straightening your back, a near perfect imitation of his own body language. “Now. Strip.”

Of all of the things you could have said, he definitely hadn’t been expecting that. He took another step closer.

“Undress me,” he said.

“No.”

He took another step closer, too close, and you lifted a leg, gently pressing your foot to his belly to retain the distance.

He was a big man, realistically speaking. If he wanted to, he could easily have swatted your leg away and taken command.

He took a step back, though, and peeled off his shirt, exposing his broad chest and defined stomach. You did not bother to be discreet, brazenly admiring his body and biting your bottom lip.

You were still holding your leg up, ready to hold him back if he came closer. He glanced from your leg to your hungry expression, before sighing and dropping his pants. He had not been wearing any sort of underwear and you took a sip of your drink, making a point to lick your lips as you dropped your leg.

He came closer and you stretched out your other arm, offering up the second cocktail.

Not only did he take it, but he swallowed it in one gulp, reaching up to rub the red smears from his lips. You downed your own and passed him the glass, taking the chance to admire his butt as he turned to place them on the nearest counter. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a naked man enjoy one of your drinks, especially when said naked man was as well built as this one.

He turned to look at you and this time you motioned for him to come closer. You continued to do so as he stepped forwards, only stopping to motion for him to get down on his knees. You fully expected him to protest at this point, but he dropped down immediately, looking up into your face with flushed cheeks.

You ran your fingers through his hair, wondering how you had ever been afraid of this man.

You lifted both of your legs, balancing one on each of his shoulders and reaching up to wipe the leftover syrup from your own lips. He ran his fingers over your exposed skin and spread you wide as you leaned back. You closed your eyes as you felt his warm breath on your cunt, willing him to touch you there.

Nothing could have prepared you, though, for how it would feel when he actually did. All it took was a stroke of his thumb across your clit to leave your mind falling blank. You gasped, back arching from the bed before you could stop it. He held you tighter, though did not continue, catching your eye the moment you opened them.

“Do...do that again,” you said, eyes rolling back into your head when he did.

He didn’t touch you with his lips at first, instead stroking his fingers around your folds, exploring the parts of you that he had wanted so badly. He chuckled at how wet you were, slipping the tip of his finger into you and swirling your wetness across your clit, sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine. He kissed the inside of your thigh and pinched a patch of your skin between his teeth. It would leave a mark in the morning and you didn’t care at all.

He parted your folds with one hand and held you open with the other, ghosting his tongue over your clit. You dug your nails into the bedcovers with a sigh and he ran his tongue across your flesh, sending a shudder of pleasure rocketing through your core. He turned his tongue in a figure of eight and wrote his name with his tongue, branding your cunt in the softest of ways.

You reached down to stroke your fingers through his hair, wanting to hold him there forever. He slipped a finger in then, though, and you dug your nails into his scalp. You had considered before how large his fingers were and it was apparent to you even then. He sucked at your clit and took it slowly, angling his finger to find that particular patch of nerves that would turn your insides to jelly. His touches made your stomach flutter, your legs quivering every time he made contact. You were grateful for his firm hand on your waist. Left to your own devices, you would almost certainly have been squirming in delight and grinding against his face.

He dipped his finger in and out and you willed him to go faster. The touches he didn’t make drove you just as crazy as the ones he did.

“Please,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair. “Oh g-”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He pumped his finger into you so quickly that you could hear the wet sound every time he made contact. You arched your back into him, the pressure building in your core and threatening to overflow. The combination of his tongue and finger was overwhelming.

He added another finger and you snatched up the hand that had been gripping the bedcovers, digging your teeth into your fist to stifle your moans. You were close...so close and you needed some form of anchor. He didn’t seem to approve of that, though, for he let go of your waist and reached up to take it, holding you tightly as you cried out in delight.

Your stomach fluttered with butterfly light flashes of pleasure, so close to the real thing and yet so far. You couldn’t think of anything more than the growing tension within you. You stretched an arm over your head and dug your nails into the bedcovers, crying out at how close you really were.

He stopped then, though, and peered up at you through the valley of your breasts, smirking at how flushed your cheeks were. He sat up and crawled up on the bed, planting both hands on either side of your head. You wrapped your legs around his waist before you could stop yourself, linking your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss, biting at his lips and sighing when he pushed his tongue against yours. You tightened your legs around him, relishing the feel of his stomach against yours and hard dick against your thighs.

You came back to earth as he tugged at your nightgown, a stark reminder of why you had gone to him in the first place.

You pushed both hands onto his chest and he allowed you to guide him, rolling over onto his back without a word of complaint. You sat up to straddle him, crushing your lips against his before sitting up to pull the tie from your nightgown.

His eyes brightened up at the slightest flash of your body, but it didn’t last for long. He reached a hand to drag away the final barrier between you, but you slapped away his hand. He seemed confused until you lifted the tie, finally understanding your real intentions.

You refused to be his experiment; refused to be docile and fragile because he said so. Your teeth were as sharp as his and he would not control you without your permission, just as you would not try to command him without his own.

He gave you a nod and sat up just a little, enough for you to drape the tie over his eyes and loop it into a simple knot. You waved a hand in front of his face and checked the gap as he laid back down, ensuring that he couldn’t see before sitting up straight and tossing aside the nightgown.

You sat down onto your hands and knees, planting soft kisses along his neck and shoulders. You kept them gentle until you reached his collar bone, at which point you sank your teeth into his skin, enough to leave a bruise but not to break the skin. He inhaled sharply and for a moment you wondered if you had gone too far, though that worry did not last for long. He reached up to stroke a hand across your exposed back, running his fingertips across your spine as you moved further down the bed.

If you had felt intimidated by the size of his dick before, you definitely were now that it was hard. It stood taller than any toy you had ever seen, much less owned, with a slight curve and prominent veins. He shuddered as you traced a single finger across one of the veins, fidgeting as you put that same finger between your lips and made an overly theatrical sucking sound, making sure to pop your lips as you pulled it back out.

“Oy,” he said, “that’s mean.”

“So am I,” you said, reaching up to squeeze your fingers around his shaft, slowly pumping your hand up and down and making sure to squeeze that much tighter as your fingers reached the tip. You leaned over and ran your tongue over the underside of his dick, mimicking the movements of your fingers until you were ready to take him into your mouth. You continued to pump your fist around his dick and bobbed your head along with the pace, making sure to suck him harder and harder and smack your lips whenever you let go.

“Fucking ffffff,” he snarled, reaching for your hair and gathering it in his hand to pin you in place. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

You made your feelings on the matter quite clear, spitting on his tip and giving him a quick stroke before taking all of him into your mouth, pushing your free hand against the bedframe and crushing the space between your thumb and forefinger, weakening your gag reflex and relishing the feel of him against your throat.

You were a virgin; not an angel. You’d watched your share of pornography.

He snarled in delight and you let go, pumping his dick far more furiously than before. You lowered the hand you had crushed against the bedframe and gave it a couple of quick clenches to restore sensation before running your fingers over your own poor, neglected clit. You touched your tongue to his dick, swirling it around the head and moaning into him whenever a pang of pleasure rushed through you.

You stole a glance at him and enjoyed what you saw. There was something sinfully sweet about the world’s number two hero falling apart at the touch of your tongue.

You wondered if anyone had given him head before.

Maybe you’d ask him when this was over.

You could tell he was close from his ragged breaths and increasingly tight grip on your hair. You didn’t know how much longer you would last either. You wanted him inside of you and found yourself jealous of your own lips and tongue.

You let go of him and crawled up the bed, straddling his waist and yanking off the makeshift blindfold. He stared up at you, drinking you in as he had the strawberry daiquiri. He reached up a hand to touch your breast and this time you let him, cupping the other yourself as you ground your pussy against him.

“Do you want me?” You asked through half-lidded eyes.

You knew the answer, but you wanted him to say it.

“Yes.”

“All of me?”

“And more.”

He swallowed drily, reaching out for your hip.

“Do you want me ?”

You closed your eyes, considering it. In truth, you did want him. You wanted his broad shoulders; wanted his rough edges; wanted his ambitions; wanted his guilt. Most of all, you wanted the lambswool he had so carefully hidden behind tiger stripes.

You smiled, considering your return to the house after your trip to the White Rabbit; the money you had tucked away in an aspirin bottle and never touched since.

“If I didn’t want you,” you said, opening your eyes and leaning your head to the side, “I wouldn’t be here.”

You sat up onto your knees and adjusted your position, taking his dick into your hand and sliding yourself down onto it. It was so much bigger than his fingers and took you a moment to adjust. You ground your hips, holding onto the hand he had placed on your hip. He loosened his grip to link his fingers with yours, holding you tight as you grew accustomed to his girth.

You rocked yourself, taking him slowly until you couldn’t stand it any longer. You arched your back and slammed yourself onto him, reaching up one hand to grab your hair and lift it over your shoulders, exposing you completely and giving him the perfect view of your bouncing breasts. The other you rested on your clit, frantically rubbing it every time your hips collided.

He squeezed your breasts; he held your hips; he groaned as you took him in. You planted your hand on his firm chest, slowing up as the tension inside of you broke.

“I’m coming,” you moaned, “oh god, I’m…”

You never got to finish that sentence, for the euphoria was too much. Your mind fell blank, the room fell into slow motion and you fell still for fear of ending the moment too soon. You cried out every time your insides squeezed around him and Endeavour watched, absorbing not only the tightness around his cock, but your own loss of control.

He pushed you backwards and spread your legs wide, pushing into you as you lay in a satisfied haze. You reached up to stroke his face as he slammed himself into you, sitting up onto his knees and holding your legs wide open as you fucked you harder. You could do nothing but watch and, in truth, you didn’t want to. It was as if all of the bones had left your body, pleasure washing over you like waves against the shore.

He bit your neck; you dragged your nails over his back. The time for common sense was gone and all you had left were animal instincts, every former pretense shattering around you like summer heat in a thunderstorm.

You dropped your hands to the bed and let him fuck you, losing track of where one wave of release came and another ended. He came with a roar, dragging himself out just in time to spill all over your stomach and breasts. You had expected him to come inside of you and found yourself oddly proud that he hadn’t.

You lay there for quite some time, catching your breath and rubbing your legs against his waist. He stared down at you as the fog lifted and he came back to earth, taking in the bite marks and puddle of semen he had left on your body. He hadn’t come out of it much better; scratches and bite marks on his neck, arms and most certainly his back.

The pair of you looked as bloody, bruised and dazed as if you had fought off a bear and you couldn’t help but smirk, admiring the tiger stripes and leopard spots you had left on each other.

He was yours and you were his.

Both of you human; both of you beasts.