#jcwrites

It took you both a while to warm up to each other due to the lack of trust you both had in pretty anyone at this point. You hardly talked at first. Shane seemed to do it enough for the both of you - much to your annoyance – but you found yourself eventually opening up and giving in (more like losing your patience) to his constant passive interrogation. He had a point as much as you hated to admit it. If you were going to be spend so much time together and rely on him for survival, you had to trust each other and that meant sharing your past. He told you he was a police officer – God forbid you ever call him a cop – before the outbreak. He told you about Rick and Lori; their affair and why Lori begged him to leave the group to go out on his own. Hell, part of you felt bad for the man. Years of secretly pining over Lori and he finally had a shot with her: the woman of his dreams. Though he was overjoyed to see Rick had made it out alive, there was a bitterness he failed to bury that simmered over time into jealousy and obsession.  Ready to lay down his life and fight tooth and nail for her heart. It only drove her further away and made her fear his very presence.

“I can’t live like this anymore. You became the same bastards you swore to lock up. I’m begging you, Shane. If you love me, you’ll leave because if you don’t, I will. Rick and I will take Carl and we’ll leave the group for good.”

The honesty he showed made you feel guilty; like it’d only feel fair if you were honest too. You didn’t judge him and he didn’t judge you. No one expected the outbreak, no one expected cities to be bombarded. Even the living died a little inside, giving birth to new versions of themselves they didn’t even know existed. The contamination changed the world and the people along with it.

A pang of sadness invaded your hearts when you first saw them. A couple of decaying corpses sat in the backseat of an iconic ’48 Oldsmobile parked in the garage you and Shane had broken into. The car had died out by now, but an accordion drain pipe had been taped from the exhaust pipe to the window, cracked just enough to be severely taped in order to avoid any leakage. An empty bottle of sleeping pills was tossed onto the driver’s seat along with an empty water bottle; the arms of long-time lovers tightly locked around each other in their eternal sleep. Neither you nor Shane said anything. It was a sight too heartbreaking to make any kind of comment.  

After raiding every room, you surprisingly found the mansion completely untouched. All you could think about was how desperately you needed a nice hot bubble bath, especially in such a luxurious bathroom as the one you had wandered into. The gold hardware of the sink and bathtub gleamed in the dim light of the crystal chandelier. There were no windows; only walls covered in marbled shades of gray and white that rose almost endlessly to the gold-framed ceiling. You imagined this was what kings and queens lived like, indulged in the company of refined materials of the most valuable kind. But the best part? The golden removable shower head that permitted you to pleasure yourself like a queen.

Being a virgin didn’t mean you didn’t have urges as well. You didn’t necessary plan being one for this long. It just never felt right before. Whether it was the place, the issues on your mind, the person you were with. It all felt somewhat rushed and superficial to you and after a while on your own, you’d grown used to it. Had you foreseen that the world would go to shit and the human species would possibly face extinction, you often thought about the sensation; the proximity, the warmth of affection only another body could offer. The thought that you would never know what it truly felt like to be loved in the confines of bedsheets and touches that would imprint themselves in memory and flesh scared you to death. If you could go back in time, you would’ve changed so many things. Taken more risks; focused less on work and more on living it up as you should’ve.

Naturally, thoughts riddled your mind ever since you met Shane. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore the ghost of his warmth when he sat too close, enticing you to reach out and hold his arm or his knee to keep him close. You could feel it pool in the pit of your core whenever he’d drawl out cute pet names at you laced that thick accent. What really made you weak in the knees was when his hands would find themselves on you in some way. Grazing your palm as he handed you your gun; tapping your shoulder as a signal to keep moving when you cleared walkers out buildings during scavenges; digging into your hips whenever he’d help you climb down intimidating heights. He wouldn’t know this, but those touches would linger on your skin until they were scarred into your memory.

Once you’d dried off and changed into comfortable pjs you found in one of the drawers of the massive walk-in closet which you’d only seen alike on Pinterest pre-apocalypse, you headed down the stairs to join Shane in the kitchen.

Finding the collection of frozen meat and fully stocked pantry was like finding a gold mine at the end of a rainbow. Shane knew right away he’d frying up the filet mignon the second he laid eyes on it. He was as happy as a kid in a candy shop. The medium rare steaks, mashed potatoes and roasted veggies were a welcomed change in your diet of nonperishables and stale wonder bread.

The warm yellow light pulsed lightly in the kitchen. As part of your mutually agreed-upon rules, you both refrained from turning on main lights when you came across temporary shelter with electricity to avoid unwanted attention. Attracting walkers were the least of your concerns. There were worse beings out in the wild now.

Neither of you said a word while you scarfed your food down, hardly taking any time to savor the taste. You didn’t bother sitting at the table to dine like royalty. No. Instead, you sat on the kitchen floor facing one. Your back against the island, his against the dishwasher. Finishing almost simultaneously, you glanced at each other’s plates and laughed at how hungry you two were.

“I’m getting myself another beer. You want another one?”

“Sure thing, darlin’. Life’s too short to not be enjoyed. Don’t know when we’ll get to have another beer.”

“Amen to that.” You chuckled.

Too tired to get up, you set your empty plate aside on the tiled floor and crawled on your hands and knees towards the fridge. Shane’s eyes went straight to your ass and the high-waisted plaid pajama shorts you’d found were rather tight across your rounded cheeks, only accentuating them more. He bit his bottom lip, wishing he could reach out and grab a handful, but just the thought alone brought guilt to his chest. He had high respect for you and feared repeating history, especially after you had saved his life more times than he could count. He saved your ass many times as well, yet you always maintained your boundaries, mostly due to the uncertainty of how to wade the waters of physical romance.

That night, you originally decided to sleep in separate rooms. Like the gentleman he had always been to you, he gladly relinquished the master bedroom to you. There were more than plenty to spare and all he really wanted was a damn mattress. But Shane’s words kept echoing in your thoughts; forcing you from side to side under the feather-filled duvet. You couldn’t get his words off your mind, much less him. The heat just the thought of it burned through your body, so you kicked the duvet off your legs and quietly drifted down the hall to his room. Your fist rose and froze still for a moment as you took a deep breath, mentally preparing and encouraging yourself. It was now or never.

Knuckles gently tapped, but no reply. Maybe it was too gentle so you tried again, a bit louder the second time. You were about to knock a third time when the door swung open, revealing his frame shirtless and in nothing but boxers. His brows furrowed together as he forced his weary eyes open.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Naw, don’t be sorry, y/n. I wasn’t sleeping either.” That was a lie. “What’s keeping you up?”

“I just- I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, about life being too short and all?”

“Right… What about it?”

Swallowing rocks would’ve been easier than swallowing the ever-growing lump in your throat.

“Well, there’s something I’ve, uh, been wanting to ask you. I wasn’t really sure how to put it. But I’m scared I may never get another chance like this. It’s not like we get to spend every night in a house, let alone, one like this one.”

“We did get lucky.” He nodded agreeing, a wide smile stretching on his lips. “But what is it that you wanna ask me huh?”

“I don’t really know how to do this… I w-would like to spend the night in your, uh, bed.” “In my bed? You wanna switch rooms, is that it? I got no problem with that.”

“N-No, no. It’s not that.” Cue the tomato red cheeks. “It’s… I want to-to spend the night in your bed with you.”

“You scared to sleep on your own? That’s fine, I get it.”

“No!” You sighed feeling frustrated and impatient with yourself and the fact that he was so understanding and patient only made you more nervous. “I have never been with a-anyone before. And I’m scared, Shane. I’m scared something will happen to one of us and I’ll never have the chance of losing my first time to someone as sweet and kind as you.” What you were trying to say dawned on him. His forearm rested up on the door frame as his mouth hung parted in awe; head slightly tilted as his expression instantly softened while he ran a hand over his beard. He didn’t have that or the luscious locks when you first met. Being on the road constantly meant little grooming and self-pampering, though he made an effort to keep his beard neat while you occasionally cut his hair. Took less time then fully shaving them off.

“Oh, shit… You’re a virgin.”

Too timid to reply, you nodded lowering your gaze and bracing for his answer.

“Y-you sayin’ you want it to be with me?”

Another nod.

“Sweetheart, I’m honored. I really am. But your first time…it’s something you wanna treasure. Something you wanna make sure you do right, you know?” “I’m aware of that, Shane. Look, I lived my whole life passing up opportunities out of fear and look where that got me. You said so yourself. Life’s too short. And I know it’s not like I got people lining up for this, b-but I want it to be with you… I’ve thought about this for a while now because I think I’m falling for you, Shane.” For a moment, you thought he was about to say something but he stood silent. It worried you until his hand cradled your cheek like your skin was made of the most delicate glass. All this time you’d felt the same as he had and he had no clue.

His head dipped to lean in and cautiously pinned his lips against yours as the hand on your cheek slipped under your hair, wrapping over the nape of your neck to tenderly urge you closer. Following his lead, you stepped forward into his space and instinctively reached for his hips. Kissing was no stranger to you, fortunately. You molded your lips to his; your palms inching up over his chest. Moans were suppressed in the depth of his throat while he reveled in your taste. He needed you as much as you needed him.

His other hand planted itself on the small of your back. Your chest pressed against his while your tongues brushed over lips and teeth. Taking steps backwards until his knees hit the bed, he sat down on its’ edge and carefully pulled your thighs one at a time to straddle his lap. Even with his hands and mouth on you, he maintained his manners and kept his palms on your waists not daring to slide them down past your hips.

“You sure about this, sweetheart? You sure you’re doing this for the right reasons?” His breath was heavy on your jawline, peppering slow opened kisses up until he reached your neck.

“I’m sure, Shane. I want this. I want you.”

You reassured him over and over, but you could sense he wasn’t holding back on his manners. It actually felt nice. He cared about you and didn’t want to scare you, no matter how desperately he wanted to feel you from inside, tight around his cock. No, he was going to make sure you enjoyed every touch, every second of your first time. A sense of pride and honor filled his heart that you had chose him and he was not about to mess this up. In a way, he saw this as a shot at redemption.

With your fingers wrapped around his wrists, you encouraged him to continue by sliding his hands to your ass.

“It’s okay, Shane.”

Your whisper was a green light to him, but he still kept himself at bay. He squeezed your cheeks, lips hungrily devouring each other now while your hips ground down against his groin. You could his length growing harder through the fabric of your pjs short and the thin cotton of his boxers. Every subtle twitch of it made you moan. Your hands cupped his jawline as he kissed down your neck, his rough beard scratching against your soft skin, calling you towards him like a prayer to which you would happily answer. Fingers nestled in his thick locks as you whispered his name in his ear, driving him wild and making it harder to control his actions.

Sliding your gray shirt off, he broke the kiss to gaze up at you. Taking in the sight your now half-naked body like you were a masterpiece of the finest art on display just for him. A softness was glazed over his eyes; his movements slow as he trailed kissed down the valley of your chest, savoring the very scent of your essence. Deep down, he wanted to grope your flesh merciless but he refrained from doing anything that could harm you in the slightest.Instead, he worked his way back up after giving some attention to your chest and loosely coiled his arms around you, lips ensnaring yours once more.

“Can you stand for me, baby girl?” He panted lightly.

You complied and stood between his legs, his hands never removing from your hips unless it was to slide your shorts down. Butterflies filled your stomach when his kisses met your sternum; his fingers tucking themselves past the elastic band over your panties and tugged them down gently over the curve of your ass until they dropped around your ankles.

“’Fore we take this any further, I need you to know that I’m gonna take good care of you, darlin’. You can trust me, I mean it. If it hurts or you wanna stop, you just tell me and I’ll stop right away.”

You grinned from ear to ear at his words and nodded before kissing the top of his head. Seeing him this soft and gentle was entirely new to you, but you couldn’t get enough of it. It just felt right for once.

Following his suggestion, you laid down on the bed as he shifted to stand switching places with you for an instant. Your legs were bent up and clutched together in shyness while he removed the only bit of clothing he had on. His cock sprung from its former confinement, thick and eager to probe; tip glistening in the filtering moonlight with precum.

“It’s alright now, baby girl. I got you…” he whispered, hands delicately slithering over your knees down towards your thighs but never forcing them apart. “Can I see you?”

You nodded and shyly peeled your thighs from one another, spreading them to expose your sex.

“My goodness… You are the most beautiful little angel I’ve ever seen in my life.”

He didn’t care that you hadn’t been properly groomed down there. He didn’t care any of the flaws that you secretly wished you could make disappear. He loved every single inch of you.  But he could tell from the look in your eyes that his gaze was making you slightly nervous, so he lowered himself to kiss the soft flesh of the inside of your thigh, eyes closed hoping to make you feel more comfortable and less watched. He took his time inching up and once he got dangerously close to your sex, he shifted back up to do the same to the other thigh. Finally reaching your core, he licked a slow stripe up against you before circling the tip of his tongue around your bundle of nerves, easing them and allowing you to relax a little more. He savored your taste, lapping all the wetness as it leaked out of you. His speed picked up gradually when you suddenly felt his fingers on you, teasing your entrance as they swirled around your slickness until it coated them completely. Your moan and widening legs granted them the access he desired, allowing them to slip into you easily, but carefully. One went in first, warming you up for the second and the second for the third. They moved in and out of you as he sucked and worked on where you needed him most, building up the pressure in you until the room felt like it was spinning around you. Until you felt you felt like you were going to explode on his tongue and finally did. Your hips bucking and legs tightening around his head proved he willingly got exactly what he wanted out of you.

“Sweeter than goddamn sugar cane” he chuckled locking his gaze up at you and enjoying your reaction but he wasn’t done with you just yet.

Crawling up, he kissed you hungrily so you could taste the previously mentioned sweetness of your juices. His cock rubbed against your sensitive sex, dipping to wet itself in your bodily paint. Nestling himself behind you, you shifted onto your side to grant him better access. After grazing his cock over your entrance to juice out whatever slickness he could, he eased himself inside you painfully slow. It burned a bit at first, but you needed him deeper inside. You tried your best to relax enough to allow him to slide deeper until he bottomed out. He held himself there, allowing you to adjust to his size while his arm slipped under your head as a pillow. The fingers of said arm – still damp from your moisture - instantly reached for your hand to twine themselves tightly into the spaces between your fingers. Your hands locked firmly together as you turned your head to capture his lips when they trailed up the back of your shoulder and neck.  

His hips moved slowly as he dragged his cock out and slid back up into you until he couldn’t go further. He repeated those motions until your whimpers became moans and moans became pleas for more and more. Gradually, he thrust a little faster; a little harder until your tightness loosened up. A sign he needed to be sure you were fully enjoying your experience.

The sound of damp skin slapping against skin grew louder and louder until he felt himself about to cum. Then he slowed his movements down again, maintaining control of his pace and eagerness. He wanted you to cum on your first time so badly and he was hellbent on making it happen.

His hand moved down from your chest to the sensitive nub to rub it for your extra pleasure. That was when you lost it, begging him for it.

“O-oh shit, Shane, please! Make me cum” you moaned, reaching for the back of his head.

His pants grew lower in your ear and his thrusts harder as his hips slammed against your ass. He was getting sloppier because he was closer. And closer. And closer!

“Fuck!!” you groaned in sheer bliss, eyes rolling to the back of your head while you clenched around him, your orgasm drawing his out until he pulled out with a growl you could only compare to a wild beast. His load shot hard buried in the crack of your tush, not even giving him enough time to direct it onto your cheek. You hummed as you ground your ass with his cock pressed between the fleshy cheeks, slicking his limb with his own cum, milking him for every last drop.

Propping himself up on the elbow, his forearm as your pillow, he moved his hand from between your legs up to wrap gently over your chin as his mouth crashed against yours.

He sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes, quietly waiting to see the person outside would at least state a name and checking the time on his phone. The knocking simply continued, growing a little more desperate each time. Feeling the adrenaline rush through his body to keep him alert, he opened the small drawer underneath the coffee table and grabbed the gun he usually kept hidden for sudden emergencies. He stood up gripping the glock; his shoulders hunched with tension. With cautious steps, he made towards the door and dipped his head down to peer through the magic eye. He sighed, relieved to see a familiar face - one he welcomed at any time or moment – and opened the door, releasing the tight grip on his weapon.  

“Jesus, y/n. You scared the shit outta me” he stated swinging the door open. His golden locks still damp from his late shower and messy from his sleep. “It’s 2:37 in the morning, sweetheart. What the hell are you doing here?”  

“I-I need your help.”  

You didn’t really have to say it. The paleness of your face and your hand tucked under the black leather jacket you wore were enough to worry him; he offered no hesitance on inviting you in and quickly shut the door behind you, turning the locks for assurance.  

“What happened?”  

His voice was calm, but the way he ushered you quickly to a chair at the kitchen table expressed his concern.  

“I was on my way home. A car pulled up behind me and opened fire. Son of a bitch hit me in the shoulder.”

You were still furious for being completely blindsided. You knew you couldn’t go to the hospital; gunshot wounds have to be reported to the police which would open up an investigation on you and possibly put the club at risk. Everyone knew that. Jax was no doctor, but he was the nearest person you could of that would help.

“Lemme take a look at it.”

He was quick to help remove your jacket, pulling the sleeve your uninjured arm first in order to pull the other sleeve down carefully enough to not inflict more pain. Your white v-neck was drenched in blood circling the small hole in its’ shoulder as he accessed the wound.

“There’s no exit wound. I’m gonna have to take the bullet out. I won’t be able to do it with your shirt on, I’ll have to cut it off.”

“Do what you gotta do, just get this fucker out” you winced.  

Pacing through his house to collect the things he deemed necessary, he tried to remember what the guys would do. Sure, he’s seen gunshot wounds and bullets being taken out of others. Had he actually done it himself? No, not at all. And to be honest? He was scared shitless, but he couldn’t tell you that right now. You were panicking enough already so he had to stay calm and at least act like he knew what he was doing.  

He knelt before you, placing all his gatherings on a chair he pulled closer to serve as a little table.  

“Please tell me you got a good look at the sons of bitches who did this to you.” He said firmly already eager to get his revenge as he took a pair of scissors to cut up your shirt.

“No, I didn’t. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why the hell not? I’ll find out regardless, the easy way or the hard way. I’d just prefer the easy way.”  

“You got enough to deal with already.” You paused, hissing in agony as he carefully stripped the white cloth from you in the same way he’d done with the jacket. “Fuck... I really liked this shirt.”

“I’ll buy you a new one, doll. Don’t you worry. I don’t want you holding things back from me out of pity though. You know you mean the world to me and anyone who hurts you is fucking dead.”

“I appreciate that, Jax. But I’d rather you get into my pants instead of getting into trouble.”

He smirked up at you and placed a kiss on your lips.  

“This is gonna sting a bit, sweetheart. Try not to scream.”

“That’s hard to do with you involved” you smirked softly at him.  

Once he washed the blood away with some water, he took a vodka bottle to pour it over the open wound. You groaned, squirming at the searing pain of the alcohol.  

“It’s pretty close to bone. Extracting it gonna hurt more.”

“I can take it.”  You nodded at him to continue.  

Folding a belt in half, he placed the leather between your teeth to allow you to bite down on it. It muffled your cries enough for his neighbors to not hear. Digging the bullet out was the most excruciating pain you’d ever felt; you believed you would even faint from the shock and pain, but thankfully he pulled the metal out. Praises spewed from his mouth to comfort you as best as he could.  

“There you go, sweetheart. I got you.” He whispered stitching the wound close before placing gauze over it. “I’m so proud of you, you’re one tough ass peach, ain’t ya?”

“Learned from the best, didn’t I?” You smiled tiredly.  

“You sure did.” He chuckled, glancing at you as he finished dressing your shoulder. “You did a great job staying awake, but you can get some rest now. I’ll get you a shirt and some anti-biotics from the medicine cabinet. You take one per day and you’ll be alright, okay?”

“Thank you, Jax. I’m sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night like this.”

There was no denying that Alfie transformed into someone completely different from the barbarian brute he had to be at work. This transition was never really hard for Alfie; he had already had much practice once you started living together.

Sure, there were some nights here and there where he came home a little more stressed but it was never anything too intense to become hurtful. The patience he purposely lacked with his working men was intentionally doubled the second he set his foot inside. You were his world, his love and now with your growing family, he’d become even more careful with his temper. Of course, you always talked about the worries you both had. Communication is vital after all.

 Alfie never really cared about what people thought of him. Until he met you. Until he met your daughter after the most anxious and longest 9 months of his life. And now that she was here, he would make she was treated like the princess she was and ensure that you and she would never see him less than a loving and respectful father/husband.

On your daughter’s first birthday, he wouldn’t be any different. Not even the blessed profanity spewing mouth he had on him. You would like to think he tried to contain himself; that he made the effort to turn his swearing into more acceptable words since your daughter was gradually becoming more vocal. But you knew it would take time to change deeply rooted ways and adapt to the newest member of the Solomons family. Hell, even you were still adapting to the intricate path of parenthood.

You had decided to have just a small get-together with a few members of your families to celebrate. They had traveled quite a long way to see your baby; the last time they had seen her was when she was born so they were very excited and more than willing to travel the distance when they received your invitation.  

The darkness of evening had fallen over the large oceanfront estate; your relatives already tucked into the warm beds of the guest rooms. You and Alfie, however, were decided to extend the day a bit longer and lounge in bed with a couple of slices of cake you had sneaked downstairs to indulge in private.  

“Apparently, we’re not the only ones sneaking cake in the bedrooms.” 

You giggled closing the door quietly with a bump of your hip against the wooden door; tip-toeing to your bed topped with Alfie and your sweet child who was babbling in a language incomprehensible to adults, being nothing more than random vowels and sounds strung together with occasional ‘mama’s’ ‘and dada’s’ here and there. A rag doll held tightly in her chubby hand, thrashing in random bursts of emotion.

“Well, they should be. This cake is worth every cent.” He stated just before cramming a forkful into his mouth.  

“Told you it was a good choice. You can’t go wrong with chocolate, love.”

“No, you most certainly cannot.”

It also didn’t go unnoticed by your daughter. She was already tossing her rag doll aside and smacking her lips as she crawled towards the decadent chocolate dessert, anxious for a taste of her father’s food. She grunted and moaned, cooing for a bite as she tried to tug his arm down. Much like your husband, she refused to take no for an answer. Alfie was definitely a push over when it came to her. Spoiled her rotten and always caved in her desires, especially when it came to food. If his princess wanted it, he’d be damned if he didn’t give it to her. 

“You wanna taste, princess? There you go.”  

He cautiously held his fork to her mouth; her arms now propping herself up against his semi-clothed belly. The waist tie of the robe he wore was loose enough to let the garment open to expose his furry chest. An innocent smirk grew on his lips as he watched her eyes widen and glimmer with joy; mouth hanging open. Tasting the cake, she wasted no time to smile and so, opened her mouth even wider in hopes of a bigger bite.

“You can’t always give her what she wants, you know.” You smiled watching your husband melt at your daughter’s smile; smacking her lips as she giggled in excitement and overall appreciation of the sweet dessert.  

“Look at that face, love. How do you expect me to say no to that?”

“Don’t you know the message you’re teaching her, Alf?”  

“I know, it ain’t right. But fuck... She’s only a baby.”

“Alfie! Language!” You laughed.  

“She don’t know what it means, y/n. No need for a fit.” He chuckled as he continued to feed her a few more small bites, taking short pauses between to give her time to chew and swallow but the longer he took to offer another bite, the more impatient she grew; whining and tugging his wrist towards her mouth. Barely any teeth in and already she had a sweet tooth.

“She may not know bu-”

A string of curses spewed from your husband as she tugged hard enough to wobble the slice of cake off the plate and rolling down his chest; chocolate frosting staining everything it touched. The hairs on his chest, the silk fabric of his robe, the linen that dressed your bed. She didn’t seem to mind the mess at all. In fact, she seemed quite pleased since she was able to grab handfuls of the slice and plot back down on her backside to munch on the handfuls; grinning at her accomplishments and laughing as Alfie cursed about the mess. You, on the other hand, couldn’t hold back your laughter. It was rather perfect timing; maybe just what Alfie needed in order to recognize the consequences his style of parenting – lack of it – had on her attitude.  

“See? You can’t even get angry at her for that. That’s your own doing, my love.”

“My doing? You saying it’s my fault? How exactly is this my fault?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re conditioning her to let her have whatever she wants without setting limits, Alfie.”

“Well, I want her to learn she can have whatever she wants, yes.” He agreed, hardly trying to defend himself.  

“What you’re doing is being a bad influence.”  

“I’m not that awful as a father... Am I?”

“Not in all aspects. There’s always room for improvements, right?” No. He's the best father. That’s what he really wanted to debate, even now that he was covered in frosting. But that would be a war that would wage on forever between you if he had spoken his mind freely.  

“Well, fuck, love. When you put it like that....”  

Another obscene word slipped out, but before you could rebuke your husband for using profanity in front of your child, you realized the voice didn’t belong to him. It was her.

“Fuck!” She giggled proudly as she caught both of your attention, clapping her cake-coated hands like she’d won a prize.  

Truly, deep down inside, Alf tried to contain his laughter – no matter how poorly he managed - to avoid enabling her to speak like that. She wasn’t old enough to understand it was a bad word or why it was unacceptable. But it was evident that you were right, although Alfie hated admitting it. What was worse was the fact that he actually felt proud of her, feeling his heart swell with delight as he watched her take what she wanted. The apple hadn’t fallen far from her paternal tree.

“Balls! Uh c-cotton balls.”

You smiled nervously holding up the fluffy white ball as it would somehow make instant sense to him, sat on the floor with the first aid kit wide open in between your legs. You could tell from the look on his face that he wasn’t buying it. Why the fuck would you need cotton balls at a barbecue??

“I-it’s for my ears. I have uh sensitive hearing… For the fireworks, you know?”

“Right…” Hie brows furrowed still unsure, but an amused smile crept on his lips.

“I’m sorry. I know this is your room, I’ll be out in a minute.” You assured quickly but neatly setting the contents of the first aid kit back inside.

“Nah, it’s fine. You can hide out here as long as you’d like.”

“I wasn’t hiding though?” You frowned. Now you were the one confused.

“Sure you weren’t.” Oh, that damn smirk… “It’s just part of your mysterious illusion.”

“Me? Mysterious?” You laughed throwing your head back before clasping the small box closed and sliding it back into its’ original place.

“Why is that funny? You’re mysterious to me.”

“Uh, alright? Whatever suits you, I guess.” You chuckled to yourself, standing back up on your feet as you plucked a couple of chunks from the cotton balls. “I’ll see you outside.”

You walked towards the door to gently make your way around his large frame. But before you could, his tattooed thick arm was quickly raised to the height of your face, blocking your passage.

“Were you snooping around my room?” You looked at him confused,

“What? No! Why would I wanna do that?”

“I don’t know. Probably for the same reason you keep to yourself.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Jax.”

“Nah, I think I do.” He took a step forward, pushing you back into his room without even touching you. Making people do things without any contact was a talent he seemed to dominate.

“Clearly you don’t because I am not mysterious nor do I try to be.”

“Seems like you do… Don’t talk to anyone, you’re never at family gatherings, you’re mostly alone. That’s enough to make one of us curious.”

“What are you insinuating, Jackson?”

“You’re a vet, right? Just making sure cats and dogs are the ones you work with.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” You scoffed and shook your head, folding your arms under your breasts and unintentionally pushing your cleavage up. “Look, I just stay in my lane. That’s all. Club business doesn’t interest me and neither do club guys.”

“Really? Gotta admit that breaks my heart. I was hoping to get to know you a little better,”

“You’ve known me for years?”

“No. I know your name and who your parents are, but I don’t know you.”

“Well, you’re not missing out on anything.”

“I’d beg to differ, darlin’. I happen to think I’m missing out on a lot.”

His voice dropped and deepened a couple octaves, sending waves of something you couldn’t exactly name throughout your body. All you knew was that if your heart beat any faster, it would burst through your chest. That your knees were beginning to buckle due to his sudden proximity. The heat growing on your cheeks assured you that they were red as tomatoes. The floor underneath must’ve turned to glue since your feet seemed to ignore the commands your brain was sending out and remained planted in front of the towering blonde. This is exactly why you tried so goddamn hard to avoid him. Specifically him. Jackson Teller was known for making girls swoon and you promised yourself you wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for his cliché charm. It was too late for that now.

“If the noise bothers you so much, you can just stay here and chill with me. If you want to.”

His hand reached up to your cheek and brushed the soft skin his thumb. His touch felt like fire melting you from within. You froze gazing up into his beautiful blues. He smirked and took your silence as an approval so he craned his head down to kiss you and you kissed back. Something else had taken control of you.

It deepened slowly as he carefully backed you up until your ass met the hard wood of his desk. Without any verbal commands, your body seemed to follow his lead so eagerly like you were in a drug induced daze that you couldn’t snap out of. The alcohol didn’t really help you at this moment because you allowed him to push your hips back and sit on the desk, legs instantly spreading to make way for him. He trailed his kisses down your neck, beard scraping against your warm skin while his hand slid the dainty straps of your top off your shoulder to replace it with his lips. But the second you felt his other hands snaking up underneath your top, you snatched his wrist firmly in your hands and forced you both to stop.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You don’t wanna do this? It’s fine if you don’t. Just tell me to stop…”

Genuine worry seeped from his words, his hand retracted from under your dress to cup your cheek tenderly.

“N-no, I don’t want you to stop. I j-just uh never did this before.”

“You got nothing to worry bout. No one can hear us in here.”

“No, it’s not that, Jax…”

He looked just as confused as before until realization finally struck him like lightening. His expression softened as his mouth hung open in awe.

“Oh, shit… You’re a virgin?”

“Don’t call me that! I hate that word.” He grinned from ear to ear, his broad shoulders straightening out.

“Well, I’ll be damned, sweetheart. It all makes sense now. You’re shy because you’re a virgin.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? There’s nothing wrong with that… Just makes it all the more special, if you ask me.” He smiled. “Do you wanna do this?”

His voice was different now. Whispers as gentle as his touch, a softness to him you’d never imagined he could possibly have. A concern that was purely sweet and genuine and seemed strange coming from such an intimidating man.

“Yes…” you blushed.

“You wanna do it with me?”

“I do…”

“Promise me one thing… You’ll be honest with me. If I hurt you, you let me know. If you want me to stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I promise.”

He parted from you to close and lock the door of the room to ensure you wouldn’t have any interruptions. You expected him to come back to his previous position but instead he held out his hand to you with a warm smile, eyes locked in yours. You took it and allowed him to pull you closer, resuming your kiss. It had changed now. It wasn’t hungry or desperate like before. His lips moved slowly and took their time molding against yours. His tongue flicked over your bottom lip, politely asking for entrance which you gladly granted and just like that, the world froze… until he suddenly pulled away. He didn’t say a word; simply smiled as he gazed at you and slid his leather vest off to drape it on the back of the desk chair. With your hand in his again, he guided you while walking backwards to sit on his bed, only letting it go to guide your thighs to his lap in a straddling position. The tenderness was so foreign coming from him, but it felt so right. You kissed him again, addicted to his taste and paused only when his shirt was pulled over his head and tossed aside. A palm began roaming over your curves under your clothes, studying them with precision. Calm and slow, like exploring unknown land.

You found yourself lying naked on the mattress with his golden head of hair buried deeply between your thighs, eating you out like you were his last meal on death row until you were trembling and clenching your legs around his head, seeing stars in your white hot heat. The rumbles of his chuckles trailed up to your sensitive nub in electric sparks. And that stupid fucking beard!

“Taste so damn good, sweetheart.”

You smiled shyly at his compliment and felt obligated to comply with the same action as he stood up on his knee. The tent in his boxers proved he needed affection as well, so you instantly sat up and reached for his underwear but he stopped you with hands on your wrists.

“No, sweetheart. This is about you. Don’t worry bout me.”

“B-but don’t you want me to…?”

“Only thing I want is for you to enjoy this, sunshine.”

He slid the garment off and tossed it aside. You couldn’t help but stare as his cock, so hard and veiny and pink with readiness as he rolled the condom on. You’d seen cocks before, but his was just big and thick. Part of you was thinking how he would be able to put it in.

“Don’t worry, darling. I can’t promise it won’t hurt. But I can promise I’ll go slow and gentle.”

You nodded and relief washed over you as he trailed kisses up your tummy, taking his time to appreciate your breasts before reaching your lips. Hips nuzzling between your legs. You could his cock twitch at the contact with your mound. His tongue delved into your mouth in a greedy kiss, moving his hips slowly to rub his cock against your folds. So wet and slick and warm and just so fucking good enough to make your legs spread wide, welcoming him.

“You sure about this, sunshine?” he whispered in your ear.

“I don’t see a-any” he paused sat on the bed, sliding his tunic on until a loud sneeze escaped his lips followed by another which only after he continued. “any porridge on that tray.”

“Oh good, then you still have your sight. Unlike your health.” You smirked.

“I am not sick. It’s just the change in weather.”

“It’s because you never eat right, for heaven’s sake. It’s about time you’ve had a bloody decent meal and make no mistake. I will force feed you if I have to!”

You drifted across the room with a smile, setting the tray down on the silk clothed table before opening the curtains and windows to let in fresh air.

“I don’t doubt that. But I really don’t need all that. Not while people are still starving out there.”

“So your solution as King is to starve and die along with them? Excellent strategy, my king. By all means, please carry on with your formidable plan."

“Oh, I just love waking up to your sarcasm.” He chuckled, now stood in front of the basin of water rinsing the sleep from his face.

“Good, it isn't changin-“

Another one of his sneezes interrupted you, but this seemed to be more painful than the last. His long fingers clutched his chest as he wiped his nose on a cloth.

“I ain’t asking ya to swim across the fucking ocean. I’m only asking you to eat. You need your strength, my King. Look at you.”

“I’m fine” said Arthur in much contradiction to his body slowly giving into the weakness that crept over him, forcing him to crawl back into bed against his spirit’s will. His stuffy nose was red and his crystal blue eyes were surrounded by pinkish flesh.

"And I don't want your sarcasm to change."

“It won't and you, my King, are not fine. That is not a sign of being fine. Now sit up, won’t you?”

Your order came with a smirk as you carried the reeking cup to him and held it out.

“The healers said you must drink this first before you eat.”

“It smells like shit.”

“Well, it matches your current state. Bottom’s up.”

“I am not drinking that!"

"Can you please just shut up and let me take care of you, for crying out loud? You're not the big baby like you're acting, Arthur. You’re the King now and I’ll be damned if you die on my watch. I suffered too long at the hands of Vortigern and I refuse to bow or serve to any other King if not you. Now drink!”

He smiled to himself, flattered by your loyalty. The subtle tone of impatience in your voice didn’t exactly scare him, but it did make him think twice about taking care of himself. He had to accept his life now. Taking care of himself was important for the future of the kingdom. If he was damned, so were his people. If he wanted the best for them, he had to make sure he’d live long enough on the throne to assure it for them. So he reluctantly took the cup and chugged down the unpleasant potion.

“Now that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“My mouth tastes like shit now.” He grimaced.

It wasn’t snooping. You were not snooping. You had no intention of finding that letter and to be quite frank, part of you wished you never did. That part wanted to simply pretend like it was nothing, that it wasn’t any of your business. Whatever it was, if you were supposed to know, Alfie would’ve told you. Your curiosity, on the other hand, would never sit at ease.

Scrutinizing your surroundings, confused and at a lost for explanations, your eyes came across a half-written letter on his typewriter. At first, you thought nothing of it. Until the letters jumped off the paper, snatching your attention like hungry piranhas.

“Last will and testament?” you muttered to yourself. Your eyes dart to the side in wonder, landing on a note written by Alfie’s own hand. Fine-lined scribbles with a date, a time and the name Belle. A name you had never heard your husband mention before.

As far as you knew, Alfie had no reason to be worried about that stuff. Why would he be updating his will? A chill swept swiftly along the trail of your spine. Your hairs stood tall and alert, tiny goosebumps rising to the call of worry echoing from the depths of your core. Limbs cold as if the air had dropped suddenly in temperature and frozen them to the bone. You stared at the desk, trying to make sense of what exactly Alfie was hiding and why.

All you were searching for was a pen. Hardly ever did you enter Alfie’s study, but you figured there must’ve been one on his desk. The faint voice of your friend echoed through the hall in search of you, calling you back to reality. You arduously swallowed the lump in your throat and tried your hardest to calm yourself enough to see your friend out with a requested address to a suggested tailor. All you could do now was wait.

It was well after dusk when Alfie arrived. Lapis blue light filled the room through the tall window, darkening the corners as night began to fall. The rumbling engine of his car gave him away, with a loud click of the car door following close behind once the engine died. Keys jingling as he unlocks the front door. The soles of his shoes scuffing against the wooden floorboards as he shuffles inside. The groan of relief and gratitude to be home as he peels off the long charcoal coat, still drenched in the scents of his routine and workplace. Like a song you knew every word to, every note and every pitch.

“Are you having an affair?” you spat out. The front door had barely been closed, his hands even paused in their movements still attached to the collar of his coat. Impatiently, Alfie craned his neck to peak at you perched in the living room.

“Evening to you as well, love.” His words had no authenticity. The bewilderment on his face proved he thought of something else to say, but quickly decided not to. His shoulders - heavy with the burdens of his exhaustingly long day – straightened as he hung the heavy garment near the door.

“I had a lovely day myself, thank you for asking.” Sarcasm could drip from his words like melting wax from a candle, lit with mockery.

“Fuck off with that, Alf. Be honest with me. I was in your study. I found your will and this note bes-“

“Oh, you’ve gone snooping about again, did ya? That’s what this is about?”

“I was not snooping! Elizabeth was here this morning and wanted the address of my tailor. I was looking for something to write it- you know, that’s not the point! This is our house and I can snoop if I bloody well please. The point is, my own husband is still keeping things from me, with absolutely no concern about leaving me in the dark.”

“Right, right. So are you going to show me what the mysterious note you’ve found ey?”

You were sat calmly on the couch as he approached up the hall. From your armchair, you could clearly straight at the door. It was Alfie’s favorite seat precisely for that reason. With its' back to a wall and clear vision of the front entrance, he could feel safe enough to allow himself a bit of leisure; a small thin slice of peace of mind to enjoy the company of his home and family whilst staying ever alert as if he were still in some sort of battlefield in his mind. Wars aren’t easily forgotten by the ones on the front lines and though he was indeed home, he still lived in the murky mental swamps of warfare.

“Who is Belle?” You held up the unfolded note, pressed between the tips of your index and middle fingers. You tried your best to keep the calm facade that neither you nor Alfie were really buying. He could almost hear your blood boil with jealously at a steady pace underneath your skin like water in a pot. But instead of spilling over and making a mess of things you’d regret, you opted to turn the fire off for the time being because you were surely not the jealous kind of woman. Well… you would die before you ever admitted it at least. You trusted Alfie; you were the only one he truly committed his fidelity to. Other women have tried before to sway this commitment and he always proved loyal. 

“You’ve never mentioned any Belle to me before and I’d like to know why you’ve kept this person a secret from me. I know everyone in your life, Alfie. And as your wife and mother of our son, I strongly believe I am entitled to the truth even if it is an af-“

“Y/N, I’ve got cancer.”

The words just rolled off his tongue in a tired huff as he slid his suspenders down to hang from his hips, too tired to extend the conversation into an argument. The small pause he gave felt like the calm before the storm of thoughts trampling through your mind. How could he be so calm about this? How long has he known? Why didn’t he tell you?

“Belle is a doctor. Went and saw him to fix my snoring, right, told him I feel like I make my lady uncomfortable. Doc checks me out and says ‘Son, it ain’t your nose. It’s your fucking lungs, mate.’ Showed me a picture and all. You’d think I’d be struck saddened by the news. I was desolate indeed, yes. For the unfortunate fact that my dreadful snoring remains incurable. Nothing to do ‘bout that. Then came the crippling realization of the reality I believed I could alter to my own preference in order to omit the truth from you. I’d have to tell you sooner or later. Just hoped it’d go away before I had to tell you.” Or that he wouldn’t have made it this far.

Alfie always had a causal way with words. In spite of his usually calm surface, it was fear that haunted him but he would never admit it. Many nights of peaceful sleep did it steal from him. He never had so much to lose before until he met you. Until he fell under over heels for you and begun a family with you. He couldn’t less about what happened to him. The fear he felt was for things he couldn’t control, avoid or protect. He understood karma would eventually work itself around to find him.  There was nowhere to hide from it, so he had to be sure you and your family would be well taken care of. How could he tell you? How could he lay such a burden on such innocent shoulders? It was unfair to make you carry his cross.

You sat silent in shock, trying to scramble through the mental whirlwind of questions to ask first. The tears brimmed effortlessly in your eyes and quickly raced down your cheeks down to your quivering lips. If before you felt like the floor had been ripped out from under your feet to fall endlessly in a chasm of doubt and worry, now you had finally reached the pit landing sharply on your back and forcing all air from your lungs. Tightly constricted in the cold grasp of reality and its heavy coils of inevitable truth. Alfie’s line of work only increased the chances of early eternal rest, but he was finally preparing for retirement so you could live on with your loving husband. The queen and king finally resting together in the comfort of their fortress. But, stone by stone, it felt like your cozy fortress was beginning to tumble down.

“H-How could you keep that from me, Alfie?”

“I was trying to avoid that very same look you got on. You know very well I do not appreciate seeing you cry, much less being the cause of your tears.”

You weren’t really sure how to respond with such dispiriting candor thrust onto you so blatantly. You obviously prepared yourself to hear something unpleasant but the initial worry you had seemed so silly and immature now, under the grave circumstances. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with questions all at once. Or bombard him with tears and risk seeding any more guilt than he always had over something so out of his control. The best thing you could do is assure him your feelings and devotion would remain impeccably intact as it always had been. That no matter what, you would love him just as much as the first day and stay by his side through the turbulent waters. Jumping ship was never a considerable option. So you toughened through your tears as you stood to your feet to meet your husband. Your hands instinctively reached for his waist; his, for your hip. He towered over you as he planted his fingertips to the side of your neck. Stern eyes, furrowed brows and lips pressed together. Calm on the outside but on the in, he was beating himself up for making you cry.

“I-I happen to like the man that you are, Alf. A-and in honesty, the snoring never bothered me. I’d rather hear you snore than the silence. When it’s silent, the bed is- is usually empty and cold because you’re not there. Having spent too many nights in such manners, I’ve grown very fond of your snoring. And I can’t sleep without it.”

“Fuck, love. Don’t cry... I won’t be pushing up daisies for a very long time. ‘Til then you’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

“How long have you known?” you ask, tenderized under his touch.

“A few weeks... It’s not really as bad as it seems, love. I’m going through treatment already.”

“We go through this together, alright? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about things. Especially when it concerns your health.”

He sighed with a nod of his head; it was the closest to a yes that you were going to get from him.

“I know we’re not letting this go and I don’t mean to seem like I’m taking this lightly. But I am starved and I can fucking taste the brisket in the kitchen so can we please discuss this over dinner, ey?”

You nodded in agreement though you weren’t really hungry at this point.  The stress and worry from the whole day accumulated in your stomach like a heavy ball of iron. What you really wanted to do is run upstairs and scream into your pillow, bawling in tears. But every minute you spend with him just became so much more precious than it already was. He won’t want anything to change between you. He knew you’d worry more than usual and take precautions to avoid worsening his condition; accompany him on his treatment and appointments, always providing ever-lasting support. Dependable as ever, he had never loved you more. Although you were thankful for his honesty, he knew it would change things. He could feel like it tightening in his chest and throat, the overwhelming distention rising conflict in his thoughts. His fate was defined and sealed, but his infatuation for you had grown so great for him to allow you to witness him withering away to pain and misery. He refused to hurt you with the doom destined for him. You took him into your arms, hugging him as if it were the last time you could take in his scent and warmth. But there was still an unease lurking within. You know the man you married all too well. You almost see the little cogs and gears rotating against one another behind his silvery pale blue orbs, churning to concoct his plan. Alfie always has a plan.

Today was a different day. A day for happiness and celebration. Your little sweet Isaac was celebrating his 3rd birthday. There was no room for worries or sadness or burdens. Today had to be perfect. Just happiness and peace for your son. The type of day that makes you feel glad you’d live long enough to experience every moment so vividly, forever etching itself into the murals of memories in your mind. And it begun when you awoke, enveloped in Alfie’s embrace. Lying on your front, he had his arm lazily stretched and his head planted at the top of your spine. The hairs of his beard scratched and prickled against the delicate skin there, reminding you of his presence so close. His leg draped over yours and intertwined as if he’d been claiming territory in his dreams, guarding precious treasure with his own flesh.

Mornings like these were so rare between you. By this time, Alfie would’ve already been up and pacing around the room, rummaging quietly to avoid waking you. Mumbling to himself as always, but hushed and low to allow his missus the slumber he wished he could indulge himself with. You’d quickly be up on your feet once you heard him bustling out from the bathroom and into the bedroom despite his efforts to be as quiet as a mouse. He’d apologize and plead for you to go back to sleep, insist that you rest comfortably but you would always ignore him and head downstairs in your pearly white silk robe to enjoy a family breakfast with your boys. Gathering around the table as family had become routine and an important part of everyone’s day. But there was always a bitterness to the sweet moments in the morning. A voice always echoing faintly in whispers, blowing through the halls of your subconscious like an ancient curse.

“What if this is the last time I see him?”

The question always lingered in the dusty corners of your mind, glittering like a trinket on a shelf to remind you of its presence occasionally. When you agreed to marrying Alfie, you knew the price you’d pay for entering the dark waters of his world would involve a change your lifestyle; one you’d welcome at the cost of being his. He’d need you with the children where he could be always certain they were safe. Heavily guarded with his most trustful men and staff, your home was far from a prison or a cage. It was a castle you both needed to protect. So, he did what he figured would be right; taught you everything you needed to know about guns. How to use them, how to clean them. Safety on, safety off. Mount and dismount. Pistols, rifles, shotguns. He showed them all, kept them hidden throughout the house in secret compartments and made sure you knew how to use them. You prayed you never had to, but you couldn’t deny the surge of power you felt shooting his wartime favorite Lee-Enfield. And you had one hell of an aim. Definitely better than Alfie’s. More than just self-defense, he taught the ways of his business. Taught you everything from how to spot paste in jewelry to his mother’s secret recipe to her famous sourdough bread. Yes, you had to know. He insisted on it. He wouldn’t be around forever; teaching you the ways of his businesses was absolutely fundamental, not because he wanted them to go on after his death. Because he wanted to ensure you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone other than your own two feet.

His fingers were firmly laced with yours; you couldn’t fight the beaming grin curling onto your lips. Though he was still fast asleep – the mild snoring that had woken you up as it grew louder being the sign of his deepening slumber – it was evident, at some point in the early dawn of the day, he awoke for a moment and purposely intertwined your hands together and remained that way. Locked and entangled in the comfort of the warm subconscious acknowledgement of your presence ever-near, radiating against his own heat. In the sounds of your quiet breaths inflating your chest and the faint thumping beneath your bones and flesh, he found true comfort and safety. Close and bare, sheltered in the sweet quiet cocoon of your matinal love. Untouched and forsaken by even time itself. The warmth of his body seemed to seep through your pores and into your veins, coursing itself to every inch of your body. You stared at your hands clasped tightly together and took the time to mentally thank the universe and whatever merciful entity that allowed you such a blessing. His fingers thick and calloused compared to yours; the gold bands on your ring fingers gleaming the pale morning light.

The sun was beginning to rise and you could feel the summer air slowly invading the chilly room. Your leg and arm had begun to go numb from his crushing weight. Your husband was strong and well-built growing up on the harsh streets in his early days, but he certainly wasn’t light as a feather now. The sedentary lifestyle over the years and warm pastries shared with you over midnight tea had a hand in changing that. Yet you decided to endure the numbness a little longer, brushing his knuckles back and over again with the pad of your thumb. The volume of the world’s chaos diminishing with every gentle stroke with the exception of Alfie’s snoring but, at the level into your marriage, it had been a lullaby.

You’d recently moved into the new house in Margate and it was everything you could ever want. Alfie loved you unconditionally and spoiled you rotten, there was no price too high to limit his spending until you set your foot down and reminded him how the money should be wisely invested into your future: the family you’d both been planning to have instead of being wasted on jewels and dresses you didn’t need. However, you did both make an exception for lingerie. So Alfie naturally being Alfie found himself the largest house he could find nearest to the ocean. You loved the ocean. Aware of the market value he offered the previous owner to sell it to him for a wealthy amount well above market price. He may have aggressively persuaded, stalked and made the owner’s life hell until he finally accepted but Alfie could only think about everything he’s worked for. A peaceful retirement, his family and old age; free from any financial worry knowing his family would be very well set for the years to follow. Growing up, Alfie had the opposite of that after his father’s abandonment and he promised himself he’d be the opposite. That his own family would be well provided for by a loving father and husband like the man his father never was.

Of course, once you discovered how the house had come into his possession, he was sure you would’ve feasted on his liver after murdering him. There had been few times where your beloved had felt real fear and that moment was one to go down in the books. The deed had already been done and it took you a very long while to come to terms with what couldn’t be undone. And after much making up for and gentle persuasion, you figured it was yours now. Might as well live in it. “The money’s already gone anyway”, you told yourself.

But lying under his heavy warmth, you were secretly glad he insisted. The waves faintly splashed outside, nearly lulling you back to sleep with every pull of the ocean. It wasn’t until your lullaby was interrupted by Alfie’s incomprehensible grumbling about his sciatica – the only word you were able to catch. His grip on your hand tightened as he nuzzled his nose into your hair, refusing to get up and away from you.

“Long you been awake, love?”

“Couple hours.”

“You been under me for hours? You poor thing. Shoulda pushed me off ya, love. I wouldn’t ‘ave mind.”

“I would’ve.” You smiled feeling his soft lips press against your back.

“You like when I’m on top of ya, naughty girl?” he teased, rolling off the top of you to let you breathe again.

“Oh, I adore it. I love your weight on top of me, pinning me down to the mattress.” Two can play this game, my dear Alf. “But I do enjoy being on top sometimes.”

He smirked tiredly turning his head to gaze at you. You shift, still on your front but now on your other side to face him.

“Do you? You never mentioned it before.”

“I assumed you liked being on top all the time, love.”

“I do love pounding you like a fucking drill, I’ll tell you that.” He grinned reaching over to palm the curve of your behind. His palm swept up and down gently, delving his fingertips into the valley between your cheeks; dangerously creeping closer to the plush lips of your mound. “But you know what I also enjoy? Watching you ride me… Yeah, that makes me wild, love. Like a fucking goddess. A face and a body that put Hathor, Aphrodite, Venus and Freya and any other fucking goddess that dare compete with you all to fucking shame.”

“That’s quite a flattering statement, Alf.” you grinned, cheeks blushing pink.

“It’s the truth.”

“So you like it when I get on top of you huh?” You smirked slowly crawling to straddle his hips. He knew you were up to something and hoped it had something to do with the events of the night before. “Like this?” you questioned. With your back arched, you slithered your hands behind you. One planted itself on his thigh to provide balance; the other began palming his sex, forcing a groan out of him.

“Bloody fucking hell, love. Just like that.” You could see his breathing already adjusting to the new pace of the pleasure slowly building up.

“You like it when I’m all on display for you, Alfie? I happen to like this position very much myself.” You chuckled with a wide smile watching his welcoming reaction, his cock twitching under your touch.

“Why’s that, sweetie?”

“Because you know I love to play with your cock. I have more diversity this way. I can play with my hands, just like this. With my cute little bum and my sweet tight cunt.”

“That so? Well, why don’t you demonstrate for us, sweetie?” He smirked breathing heavier with every word. You could already feel his secretion leaking from his tip, coating his hardening member. His hands were all over you, squeezing whatever he could touch. Your plush breasts; your silky thighs; your fleshy tush. The pale blue orbs grew black, encompassed with his dilated pupils. Full of desire and lust.

You smiled as you slip your fingers past your lips, tasting him on your digits as they swirled around your mouth. He locked his gaze on your lips, watching them pucker as you sucked on your fingers to gather saliva before sliding them down your sex. His eyes instantly followed your fingers to watch them work. Your knees spread slightly to show him the full view and you could’ve sworn he had never looked hungrier than now, desperate to bury his face between your lips and taste the “sweetest fruit God ever made’ as he called it. You loved the madness in his eyes, a craziness that twinkled in their gleam just for you.

“Fuck me, love… you look so fucking beautiful, look at ya. Look at that little cunt. All bloody wet for my cock already. Keep going, sweetie. I love this show of yours.” He praised endlessly. His hands took over soon after watching you finger yourself. They sat on your hips while he used his thumbs to part your folds. His favorite little toy which he loved to take his time to appreciate. “Listen to that cunt. Just fucking drenched, aren’t ya? Music to my fucking ears, that is.” You giggled watching him stare in awe, fiddling with your pussy. Moans and whimpers elicited from you as you rolled your hips slowly into his hands. God, you were such a whore for him and you loved it just as much as he did. He alternated from spreading you wide open, smothering your wetness until you were covered in your mess, to pinching his thumbs together to squeeze the meaty flesh together, pressuring your clit without directly touching it. He was torturing you purely for his own entertainment. Teeth clenched to his bottom lip as he moaned, half laughing in fascination almost as if in a trance, hypnotized by your body.“So good to me, love… Fucking  sodden for me, ey? Look at that fucking mess. Get up here, on my face. Right now. Gimme a little taste, won’t you?”

You’d be a fool not to obey his wish. Alfie loved tasting you and he was more than extraordinary at it. His movement was rather limited due to the injuries he’d sustained in the war, but what he lacked in agility he made up for in oral practice. He didn’t really see it that way. He didn’t do it just to make up for anything; he just fucking loved burying his mouth between your velvet lips, probing his tongue into your hole and devouring you like you were his last meal. And he was never content with just forcing the orgasm out of you. He wasn’t content until you were a trembling mess with tears streaming from your eyes from the intensity of your climax. Sometimes, he’d hold your hips down and fuck you with his fingers until you were squirting for him. That was the ultimate prize for him. The bigger the mess, the happier he was.

Curses spewed from your tongue when he held your pussy to his mouth. You squirmed and wriggled but his arms locked around your hips, holding you in place firmly as he lapped up all your juices only to wring more out of you. His beard brushing roughly against your sensitive skin, adding the perfect contrast that you needed. He could not get enough. He knew your cunt like he had a map of it and within minutes, your room was filled with pathetic moans and whimpers of his name repeating over and over again. The sweet addictive tension built in your core finally unraveling at the tip of his tongue. His nose shoved against your clit and huffed warmly as he hummed to himself, vibrations reverberating into you. A low dark chuckle as he shook his head side to side, sucking intensively on your already overly sensitive button which he released with a loud pop. He filled his hand with your mound to roughly squeeze and jiggle the swollen flesh for his own amusement; a couple of stinging wet slaps following close after and a slow gentle one-handed massage. Two fingers slid up each of your outer lips, middle finger nestling itself up between the inner with his fingertip on your clit. He kneaded the tender flesh for a few moments with a dirty smirk and a chuckle, easing you down from your high. He takes so much fucking care of you in every possible way he can.

“Fucking ‘ell, love. Taste like fucking paradise. Sweetest cunt in the world and it’s all fucking mine, innit?” You grinned panting softly as your hips slid down to meet his, leaning down to take his lips in a greedy kiss.

“Yes, Alfie. My cunt is all yours to play with. But I think it’s my turn to play too, don’t you think?”

“You wanna play with my cock? Fine by me, love. Play on.”

Easing your hips down, you carefully lifted his throbbing cock back against his abdomen and pressed your folds against the underside. Earning a deep growl from him, you slowly moved your hips back and forth. A darkness suddenly veiled his eyes as he understood your game. A gleam shining differently from before when his head was buried between your thighs. Brows dropped instantly into a stern frown; eyes wide as he held his breath and stiffened his body, watching you intently like a predator. A hunter rising to self-defense instinctively. Though you were on top of him, he felt it was his mouth that had control of you. He wasn’t wrong, but the power dynamics had shifted. Now you had power over him; you had control of his cock and his orgasm. All he could do now was watch your folds spread around his thickness, lubricating him with your wetness as you ground yourself against his cock. The sensation and the view of your slick lips enveloped around his cock was riveting to him; hypnotized him in a different way. Like he was entirely paralyzed and his cock was a joystick only you could use to control him. This was the true reason why you secretly loved being on top.

“See? I can play with your cock like this. Do you like that, Alfie? That feel nice on you?”

“Fucking blissful, sweetheart. Just like that, on the head-“ he held his breath in before releasing it with a long moan as your folds enclosed around the end of his shaft, head peeking out from under your overlapping lips after every glide of your hips. Palms flat on his broad furry chest, sinking against the rapid beating of his heart while his gripped your thighs so firmly, you were certain they’d leave bruises.  “Fuck, love. Let me in ya, yeah? I’m not above begging.”

“You want my pussy, sweetie? Is that it? Let me hear you, Alf.”

“I’ll say whatever you want, sweetie. Please… I fucking need you.” He pleaded impatiently

“Use your words, love.” You breathed heavily, smirking down at him. You wanted to show him you were honestly relishing in how easily you could make him come undone just as he’d previously done to you. “Tell me what you want ey? My pussy is right here, all nice and wet and tight for you.”

“I’m fucking begging here, love! Quit your gaming and let me fuck your cunt!”

“Manners maketh man, Alfie.” You grinned wickedly, watching the despair and need grow in his eyes.

“Please let me fuck your fucking cunt before I go fucking blind.”

His words came out with a snarling rage as he propped his elbows up behind him, balling the sheets into his fists to avoid hurting you too much from his selfish craving for release. You didn’t need much to know he was really fighting to hold back from imploding on himself. The sturdiness and throbbing of his cock made it evident. Figuring he’d been tortured enough, you obeyed his desire and slid onto his cock to ride him slowly at first, building your agonizing slow pace. Propped up with your hands on his legs, he spread your knees apart to expose more of you to his eye while you leaned back for him. Thanks to the painting done by his tongue, you were slick with readiness for him. The slaps of skin soon began to echo throughout your room. At this point, you couldn’t care less who heard you. It was your home after all. And Alfie was beyond desperate for his sexual release. All you could think about was him right now and what he needed from you. His hand latched onto your mound, teasing your sensitive nub by circling it and swiping the pad of his thumb side to side as your cheeks slapped hard against his groin. Your skin felt like fire. Tiny beads of sweat begun to form at your hairline, trickling down your temples and seeped the delicate hairs surrounded your face. The air was humid against your hot skin and filled with the scent of your active bodies churning together like cogs in a machine, building pressure in your core with every thrust.

“You look so beautiful just like this, love. Bouncing on my fucking cock like a good little angel. Love taking it deep, don’t ya?” he hissed reaching a hand up to grope your breast one at a time. The pinching on your hardened nipples sent electricity sparking up your spine, forcing it to arch into his touch. His hands crept slowly up you like a snake slithering around your chest as it worked itself to coil around your neck while the other pushed two fingers into your mouth, driving them in and out as you eagerly sucked them as if they could substitute his delicious cock.

“You are such a good wife to me, love. Take good fucking care of your husband.” He grunted. “You like being a good wife for me huh?”

“I-I fucking love it, Alfie.” You panted. You wished you didn’t sound as desperate as you really were. “Cum in me, won’t you? Spill i-it all deep inside me, Alf.”

“C’mere, love. Let me take care of you. I know just what you need” he moaned. With a hand on the back of your neck, he gently pulled you down to kiss you feverishly and took a moment to just stop and feel the warm tight hug of your pussy around his cock. “I got you now, love.”he whispered against your lips. His arms circled around your silhouette, locking his grip to hold you firmly in place as he adjusted his footing. The lifting of his hips up into yours pushed you fall with your face flat against his chest and he got straight to it. The combination of his hips thrusting violently into you and his unyielding grasp on your frame left no room for air in your lungs. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes; gasps for air grew shorter as he pounded them right out of your ribs. All you could do was take it; endure the frantic hammering until you could no longer string any syllables together to form a single word. Your body twitched in white hot heat, convulsing in his airtight hold to his body with the tsunami wave of your orgasm that swelled instantly when you felt him coating your walls. The growls from his throats were inhumane. This was something else. It was primitive. Any streak of decency was stripped from the pair of you. All that was left was the hungry need to be downright filthy; completely void of control. You were possessed with something beyond this world, a desire so carnal and primal that took hold of you and claimed your bodies. Once you felt his arms loosen a bit, you pushed your torso up to lean back and slowly lift your hips up until he was fully out of your hole, admiring his load as it oozed out.

“So fucking lovely and wet, you’re dripping all over me. Making a fucking mess in our bed huh? You know I love a good mess, ey?” He smiled devilishly as he pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, gathering the white creamy load to shove it back inside your pussy. “Can’t let it go to waste, love. Keep it ya?”

“Yes, my love.” You giggled delighted with his fascination while you continued to toy with his cock, slowly easing down on it and then back off and back down until he bottomed out. “I love keeping your cock warm. Have to make sure your seed is buried deep in me.”

“Looks like you’re gonna get that baby you’ve been hounding me for.” He laughed, catching his breathe as you peppered his neck with kisses and teased him for a second go at it. He had promised to give you another child, one to play with your young Isaac. You remained on on his chest for a long moment, fiddling with the tuffs of light brown hairs and endlessly chatting about your future second child; about your much-appreciated techniques and outstanding performance in bed; about the plans you had to celebrate Isaac’s birthday throughout the day. Lounging in each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s bodies lovingly. That was until you heard the cries of your little tot calling for his mother. You were instantly up on your feet clothing yourself with your robe, rushing down the hall to your son’s aid.

You spent the day on the beach as planned. The sun was delightfully hot on your skin; sand was warm enough for you to comfortably walk barefoot on. Isaac seemed to enjoy it very much. It was the first time he’d seen the ocean; the first time he’d wiggled his tiny toes into the sand, giggling at the tickling grains. Alfie – being the proud father that he was – couldn’t tear his eyes away from the joy that lit up his son’s eyes. He would never forget that day. Neither of you would. The excited squeals from your young curious child as you both held his hands, helping him leap over the small waves on the shore; your white sundress flowing loosely in the breeze along with your hair; sudden whiffs of the scent of your perfume caught in the wind – the very fragrance that would remind him of that day every time you wore it; Cyril’s grunting as he happily waddled in the water, only to shake off the excess right in front of you three when you sat on a blanket to enjoy the tasteful treats you had prepared.

Isaac went on building sand castles with Alfie’s help and you watched, thinking how lucky you were to have them in your life; about what you had done to possibly deserve a man like his husband. It wasn’t long until he washed the sand from his hands before sitting down, nestling himself between your legs. With his back resting against your front, he brushed his palms over your legs as your fingers combed through his hair while you peacefully watched your son.

“You know something, sweetie? I really do hope you have another child already in your belly.” He was never really hesitant in the first place. Just didn’t necessarily think about it too hard. “It’ll happen when it’ll happen”, he’d say. It was for the best, to preserve your initmate moments together instead of turning into a daily duty with the failing objective of getting pregnant. 

“Why’s that, love?”

“Look at our boy… He’s beautiful and so happy. I think he’d like to have a little brother or sister to play with. Or maybe both.”

“Does that mean what I think it means? Are we officially trying for another?” you smile widely.

“Love, after this morning, I doubt we’ll have to try.”

You had known Frank since you were a kid; lived a few doors down from his, walked to the same school together and walked back home. Frankie, as you called him, had been the protective kind way before the military came into his life. Even though he was a year ahead of you, he always took it upon himself to make sure you got to school and back safely. Once at school, you’d part ways and go about your schedule as usual which didn’t really allow either of you to see each other except for the occasional crossing of paths in the hallway, where the most you’d get or give was a smile and nod of the head.  

The neighborhood wasn’t the worst, but reports of abductions were becoming more and more popular. He knew your parents worked a lot and since you were old enough, they trusted you to get up and get to school while they got their early head start to work, but Frankie never understood that. He never complained about keeping your company, but he did believe your parents were irresponsible for leaving you so open to attack.  

Once he had joined the US Marines right after high school, you never saw much of him after that. Sometimes, you’d write to him while he was away and when he was on leave, you’d grab some coffee and beer when you were old enough. In a mutual acceptance of the friend-zone you both found yourselves in, you’d both secretly decided it was best to move on.  He told you about Maria and how happy she made him, invited you to their wedding, but after a while, the daily struggles of adulthood on your side and parenthood on his forced an unintentional drift. It still hurt to bury the past and accept things as they were; to accept that you would never know if you ever had a chance at all.  

You couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw the news report: a surveillance photo labeled terrorist. Your mind was pestered with questions, wondering what the hell had happened to him to make him go rogue like this. There was only one thing you could be sure of: this was not the same Frank Castle you knew back then.  

A few weeks after the news breakout, he showed up at your apartment. Despite everything you saw or heard about him in the endless reports, you wanted to believe he wasn’t there to harm you. He wasn’t the same as you remember. His physique was much larger and intimidatingly stronger, like he could tear your door down locks and all if you just slammed it shut in his face. The only thing that comforted you was the softness of his gaze. He looked... helpless and yet, hopeful.

“Hey...” He started in a low gravelly tone.

From the lack of response, he could tell you were in shock. He just wasn’t sure if it was the good kind or the bad kind, but the door hadn’t been slammed on his face yet so he assumed it was the good kind.  

“I know it’s been while. I need a place to lay low. I looked you up and got your address. Just don’t ask how.” He finished with a shy smile and a chuckle from the back of his raspy throat. Yet still no response.  

“Look, it’s alright. I can find somewh-”

“No! I-I'm sorry,” you shook your head snapping out of your doubtful thoughts. Were you really about to harbor a nationwide known and wanted criminal into your home? Yes. Not out of fear. Out of compassion which you always had for Frank Castle.

“Come in, come in. I just wasn’t expecting to see you, y-you know? Like you said, it’s been a while. ”  

He moved forwards, slowly taking his steps into your apartment. You remind yourself to stay calm and cautious.  

“I hope that’s alright? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” His eyes land on the wine bottle you had just opened and the pizza box beside it, a single slice resting on a paper towel with a bite in the shape of your teeth taken out.  

“No, not at all. I was just watching a movie, but it’s not nearly as important as you are.”  

He smiled as you closed the door behind you, pleased with your reaction. It was mainly to mask his perception of your subtle hesitation, the slight discomfort that twisted in your chest unsure what to do or say. You weren’t to blame; his name and face were all over headlines. What did surprise him was your lack of panic and threat of calling the police.  

“What were you watching?”  

“Dunkirk. You seen it?”

“Nah... Haven’t had much time to catch up on the latest blockbusters.”  

Of course, he hadn’t. He was too busy hunting and killing people, or so the news said.

“Y-yeah... I bet you’ve been real busy.”

“I know you saw the news, sweetheart. I ain’t here to hurt ya. If I’m making you uncomfortable-”

“I know you’re not. And I’m not uncomfortable, just...surprised and curious is all.”

He nodded slowly, dropping his gaze almost in shame. It seemed like he either didn’t have the heart to tell you the truth or maybe he didn’t want to relive everything he’d already been through. Regardless, it was clear it was pain indeed that kept him from thoroughly explaining his sudden visit.

“I don’t blame ya. I just need a place to crash until things simmer down. I’ll be out of your hair in a couple of days.”

“You can stay as long as you want, Frankie. You know my door is always open. I just wanna know...what’s going on?”

“No one knows I’m here. Don’t worry, no one’s gonna bust down your door.”

“No one has to know but if they did, what reason would they have to come looking for you?”  

Your voice was soft and calm, but he hoped that wasn’t the threat it sounded like to him. Assuming you were just fishing for the truth, he brushed it off as striding over to the windows and shutting the curtains in one swift pull.  

“Listen... The less you know, the better, y/n.”

“Frankie, if you don’t wanna tell me, fine. Don’t. I won’t force you, but I’m not stupid. You’ve done bad things; that doesn’t necessarily make you a bad man. It would just give me some piece of mind knowing it was all done for a good reason.”

“Do you really think I’d have done ‘em if it wasn’t?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Nah, you’re just implying it.”

“I am not your enemy, Frank.”

He fell quiet as he continued to roam around your kitchen.  

“What happened doesn’t matter anyways. Can’t change the past.”

You wanted to continue the debate, but this was obviously a sensitive subject for him. This was the first time you’d seen him after so many years, you just wanted it to last as long as it possibly could.

It didn’t seem until you found yourself sat on the couch, finishing your third glass of wine and what was left of your pizza. Hours flew by unnoticed – it felt a lot more like minutes until you noticed the florescent yellow numbers on the TV cable box - and the conversation just flowed easily between you like a gentle stream just doing what it naturally knew to do.  

All of a sudden, you were back in your old neighborhood taking all the time in the world to stretch your chat as long as possible or so it felt. The right topics, the right thoughts to speak out loud. And for the first time, Frank felt his guard could be let down. It wasn’t his house, but something about the moment just made him feel at home again. After all that pain, it was a feeling he longed to encounter again and feared he never would. It wasn’t the apartment or the pizza from his favorite place. It was you. And in the back of his mind, he began to wonder how different things would’ve been if he had had the courage to tell you how he really felt all those years ago.

The electricity he felt whenever your hand fell on his arm or your knee brushed against his outer thigh could almost produce sparks, igniting a blaze of impulsivity to course through his veins becoming harder to dominate. You could tell from the way he gazed at you - trailing his eyes over your lips and exposed neck - he was listening but his mind was far away.  

When a welcoming silence settled, neither of you insisted on pushing the conversation further. He lent forward; you did the same. Your lips touched in the softest kiss before he pulled back just enough to examine your expression; silently asking for your approval. Do you want this as much as he does? Would you dare plunge yourself into the chasm of curiosity and fall with him to see how far the rabbit hole goes?

Without a second thought, your lips clung to his feverishly and he welcomed you warmly. His hands found your hips and guided them to straddle his lap. His calloused hands slithered up your back, tucked underneath your top and pulled you closer as they inched towards the lacy bra. Hearts pounding so loudly in your chest, you can hear them in your heads. You can feel the blood rushing to one specific area of your body, building the warmth and wetness there.  In that moment, you knew your bodies would do the rest of the talking throughout the night. You wanted this for so long. All these years of desire pent up unraveled under his touch, his kiss, his warmth. You could blame the alcohol for the sudden courage, but neither of you were drunk. Tipsy, maybe but not drunk.  

“Are you sure about this, Frankie?” You questioned in the softest of whispers, breath fanning lightly over his lips.  

The sound of his name in that sweet tone pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s heard you call his name plenty of times, but this was unlike any. It was vulnerable and needy; sweet and tender. In the cocoon of safety sheltered from the noisy world, you embraced each other by the hand and dove into the blackness hoping the fall would never cease.

His hands responded for him when they slid up your sides, fully removing your top and tossing it aside to somewhere he couldn’t care to look. You noticed something different in him compared the others you’d been with. Here you were, semi-naked on his lap, yet his eyes didn’t tear away from yours. They weren’t drinking your body in, lusting for your curves greedily. Instead, they rested innocently on your gaze, almost thanking you for surrendering yourself so willingly and, in a whisper as gentle as his touch, he replied: