#mostly smut

“Got it!” She yelled, assuming the proper passing position. 

Eyes on the ball, you watch as she passes it to Olivia, who sets the ball to Maya, the middle blocker by the net. Maya jumps in the air like it’s effortless and smacks the ball downward over the net. Your rival’s defense narrowly misses blocking the ball, and it hits the ground with a loud boom. 

The triumphant roar from you and your teammates is instant and in unison, the six of you briefly meeting in the middle of your side of the court to give each other a celebratory pat on the back or the waist. 

“Nice serve, Y/N/N,” Olivia grins at you, her smile so bright it makes her eyes sparkle. Her hand when she congratulates you comes to your hip, her fingers curling slightly, as she draws you closer to her by an inch. 

The moment is over in seconds but it doesn't matter. Your heart flip flops so hard in your chest you swear it falls to your stomach as you grin back, suddenly breathless. 

“Thanks,” you reply, doing your best not to betray your excitement.

“Hey Liv!” You hear one of the girls from the opposing team — Calleigh, you think her name is — say as you and your teammates get back into position for the next play. “You should come over tonight and grab my hips like that.”

Olivia’s back is to you at this point, so you don’t get to see how she rolls her eyes good naturedly at the rival player’s flirtatious remark. Instead, a familiar ache blossoms in your chest at the reminder of just how out of your league Olivia is. She’s the captain of the team. A jock, according to many. Others called her a player because of her looks and popularity. And, of course, the ones who have kissed her say she has incredible lips. Calleigh was one of the lucky ones to have experienced this for herself. She and Olivia had been caught making out at the regional tournament last year.  That little make out session had been one of many.

Olivia could have anyone she wanted, and had yet to make a move on anyone in a while. Rumor was that she had slept through enough of the rival teams that she finally wanted to look inward. Which to you meant one of the prettier, funnier, smarter girls that filled your team.

“This could be your last play of the night, girls!” Your coach yells from the sideline, abruptly pulling you from your thoughts. “Make it count!” 

You take a deep breath, trying to rid your thoughts of Olivia Benson for more than a split second. All that mattered right now was winning, and showing your team that you were a key part of that win.

“Let’s do this guys!” Olivia yells as the rival team serves what could be the final ball of the night. 

Their serve doesn’t go as far as yours did. Maya passes it back over the net with a rather anticlimactic whack against her forearms and a player in the back row of the opposing side passes it to Calleigh, the best setter on their team, who sets it to the player directly in front of Olivia. 

Bad move. 

The girl goes to simply tap it over the net, which would usually result in a point for the team, but Olivia is quicker. She tips the ball back over the net, just over the player’s head, and you and her watch as Calleigh narrowly misses diving for the ball. Olivia quickly looks at the referee standing guard on her right and they signal that your team got the point. 

The crowd went wild and so did you, Olivia, and your fellow teammates on the court, the six of you meeting in the middle for a celebratory hug, where you feel Olivia’s hand resting heavy in your back and practically burning a hole through your jersey. 

“Great job guys!” Olivia yells over the chaos of the crowd, a proud grin on her face as she looks at everyone. You think you imagine it, but her gaze seems to land on you for a moment longer than everyone else.

For a moment, her general praise pushes away the insecurity that Calleigh’s flirtatious remark had caused. But as your team lines up to congratulate the rival team on a good game, you see Calleigh still looking at her. It’s not long before they’re close enough to exchange whispers, and you see Olivia laugh at something Calleigh whispers in her ear. Her laugh reaches your ears a moment later, and the sound is so sweet that a pit forms in your stomach. You rush to the locker room before anyone else can see your crestfallen face.

———————-

The team throws a party like they always do whenever they win against this particular team. It’s the biggest party of the year and people spill out of every room of the chosen house. There’s always alcohol involved but it’s usually only a couple of teammates who are dumb enough to get wasted on it. Everyone else usually dabbles in it while you and Olivia tend to steer clear of the substance. You have heard rumors that Olivia’s mom is the drunk professor who is currently on probation, but you are too scared to ask her for the truth. Even with the drunk friends, you usually always find the parties to be a lot of fun. 

Not tonight though. 

Tonight, you can’t stop hearing Calleigh’s words in your head and can’t stop seeing the way she looked at Olivia. After having a crush on her for months and not having the guts to do anything about it, convinced that Olivia was out of your league and simply didn’t feel the same way — despite how friendly she always was toward you — being around a group of people is the last place you want to be. 

Suddenly, too many emotions are running through your head that you don't know how to handle. The thrum of anxiety is building in the part of your brain you desperately try to ignore. You can't tell if it’s your brain closing in on you or the wall, but suddenly the house feels cramped and overheated. You look around, trying to find solace and your gaze lands on the table littered with alcohol. The ghost of its taste coats your tongue, making your fingers twitch for a moment before you curl them into a fist.

‘Not today. Not today.’ You think to yourself as you turn away. 

Jocelyn nudges Olivia’s shoulder as she notices you reappear from the corner you had retreated to. Olivia hums an acknowledgment but her eyes are already tracking you. She has been frantically trying to find you since she got to the party, and now that she has she refuses to stop.

“Looks like someone’s not in the mood to party,” Jocelyn observes with a hint of disappointment partly directed towards you as well as the way she notices Olivia looking at you. “Maybe a few drinks could unscrew whatever has her so wound up.”

“Not everyone needs two shots of Tequila to keep mentally sane like you,” Olivia replies before pushing away from her spot on the wall. “I got her.”

“Y/N/N!” She says over the noise of the music and teenagers talking as she pushes through the thickest part of the crowd.

Your head turns at the sound of her voice against your will. 

“Y/N,” Olivia exhales once she reaches you. “Where are you going?” 

Her gaze is soft as she studies you from head to toe. She quickly notices how flushed you look, and she can’t tell if it’s from how warm the house is or because of the anxiety that’s beginning to show itself in the way you subtly squirm. 

Finally, you stuff your hands in the pockets of your varsity jacket as you shrug. “I-I don’t know, to be honest. Home, probably. I’m just not in the party mood tonight.” 

“Let me walk you home,” Olivia says.

You shake your head briefly as your gaze momentarily shifts to the floor. “You don’t have to do that. Stay and have fun. I’ll be alright getting home.” 

Olivia leans a little closer as if she were about to tell you a secret, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears drowning out the noise of the party. “I want to,” she insists, her voice a little quieter, more personal. “Please.”

You swear your heart and your lungs simultaneously forget how to function as the smell of Olivia suddenly wraps itself around you. For a moment, all you can do is stare dumbly at her before you finally snap back to your senses and nod. 

“Okay,” you reply dumbly. 

You let out a trembling breath as her hand comes to rest low on your back to usher you out of the crowded party. She looks over her shoulder towards where she had been standing with Jocelyn and finds her and Maya watching. Maya smiles a little too knowingly for her own good and waves, briefly holding her thumb and pinky finger out in the shape of a cellphone. Olivia nods once and flashes her a smile. 

The cold nighttime air the two of you step out into is a welcomed relief, and you inhale loudly but slowly through your nose, exhaling out of your mouth. Immediately, you feel some of the anxiety begin to fall away, and your thoughts begin to clear up. 

“Better?” Olivia asks softly, and you nod. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, running an anxious hand through your hair. You miss the way Olivia’s eyes immediately fall to your exposed neck before your hair falls back down. “I love a good party, but sometimes they’re just a lot, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Olivia chuckles briefly. 

The two of you begin to walk in the direction of your apartment, your shoulders nearly touching with each step. There is plenty of room on the sidewalk, but Olivia doesn't seem to care, only wanting to be close to your warmth. It isn’t long before Olivia stuffs her hands in her pockets to protect them from the cold. It seems like the air is only going to gain more of a bite to it as the night progresses. Definitely not the ideal weather to be walking home in, but at least you’re not alone. 

“Where’d you go after we high-fived the rival team?” Olivia finally asks, breaking the silence, glancing sideways at you. “I couldn’t find you.” 

“I thought I’d get a headstart on freshening up and getting changed,” you lie, suppressing the wrenching in your gut that resurfaces at the memory. “You know how the locker room gets after games.” 

Olivia doesn’t buy your response despite the amount of truth it holds. She shakes her head briefly and, despite the cold, tucks some hair behind her ear. 

“That girl, Calleigh,” she starts, still looking at you. “She’s really nice and all, but there’s nothing going on between us. What happened last year was just a one-time thing.” 

You blink at the abrupt change in topic before you frown a little, studying her. “Why are you telling me this? It doesn’t matter to me.” 

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Olivia smiles nervously, looking down at the sidewalk as she kicks at an imaginary rock. “I guess because I have a crush on someone and I haven’t told anybody, but I wanted somebody to know I’m not looking for a fling.” 

The disappointment in your gut is instant. It’s heavy, heavy enough to bring your steps to a screeching halt. The anxiety that had started to dissipate comes back darker, hungrier, threatening to eat you alive.

“Wow,” you say a bit breathlessly, a strained smile with an unknown emotion attached to it briefly surfacing. “Must, uhm…must be really nice for them.” 

Olivia swallows before she nods, her stomach feeling like an enclosure with a hundred panicking butterflies searching for a way out. “Yeah, I’d say it is pretty nice for you.” 

“What?” You question immediately, convinced that you didn’t hear her right. 

“It’s you, Y/N,” she admits softly. “It has been for months.” 

Out of any moment to remember rumors of someone, the cold streets of New York is not a location you had thought of. People thought of Olivia as being a bit of a player, of allegedly sleeping with almost the entire rival team. As her friend, you find those rumors hard to believe. But a small part of you wonders if there’s some truth behind it to be feeling the urge to pull back, to put some walls up. Putting walls up is how you deal with everything, though. It is safer to push people out instead of letting them in.

“I don’t want to be just another girl for your scorecard, Liv,” you say with a hint of bitterness. You see the moment your words hit Olivia, the way her eyes squint a little as if you had physically hit her to cause pain. 

She steps closer to you, the two of you practically standing toe to toe. “You aren’t just some dash or number on a nonexistent scorecard, Y/N. You’re the trophy.” 

You feel the tears surface immediately from her words, the sincerity behind them completely blindsiding you. You part your lips to respond, but your brain comes up empty, so you simply lick your lips instead and roll them together. 

Despite the cold air, you feel some heat blossom in your cheeks when you notice Olivia’s gaze drop to your lips. 

“My place is closer than yours, if I remember right,” Olivia points out. “Why don’t we head to my place instead? Either just for a little while or overnight is completely up to you, but maybe we could talk some more?” 

“Yeah, sure, that sounds good,” you nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

This time, when you start walking again, Olivia holds out her hand as an invitation. You hesitate for a moment, but then curl your fingers through hers. She grins so broadly that your stomach flips. Olivia shoves your intertwined hands in her coat pocket to keep them warm, forcing you to walk with your shoulder pressing against her. Your face feels like a furnace now, and a small part of you is grateful it’s dark so Olivia can’t see just how red your cheeks are. 

When you get to her apartment, your hand is clammy in hers. You try to pull away to wipe it off on your jeans but she only grips it tighter. With her free hand, she slides her key in the lock and pushes the door open. The apartment is dark when you enter, and you only get a couple of steps in when your foot hits something with a clink. 

Olivia swears, and her hand releases yours as she rushes to pick up the vodka bottle you had accidentally knocked over. She flicks on a lamp to dimly illuminate the living room that is covered with alcohol bottles of various types and sizes. Her face turns a beet red as she rushes to pick them all up. 

“They’re from my mom,” Olivia explains in a strained voice. “I-I know you don’t drink anymore, and I wouldn’t have brought you here if I had known it had gotten this bad.” Her words are rushed now as she refuses to look at you. “I’m really sorry.”

Again, you’re caught off guard with the knowledge that Olivia pays enough attention to you day in and day out to notice such a thing. 

“Liv,” you say, grabbing her wrist gently, which forces her to look up at you, “I’m fine. The bottles clearly aren’t your fault.”

“My room is alcohol free, I promise,” Olivia says, taking a deep breath to compose herself. She deposits the bottles into the trash. Some of them sound like they break upon impact, but that’s an issue neither of you are particularly worried about. 

She reaches for your hand again, and you walk behind her until you get to a room at the end of the hall. For a moment, you feel a bubble of nerves burst in your chest because there was no way you ever imagined you would be entering Olivia Benson’s bedroom. Before you can overthink it, she is pulling you inside and shutting the door. 

Your eyes scan the room when she turns on a couple of lamps. Her walls are filled with a few posters of Dire Straits, women’s volleyball, the Empire State Building, and various group pictures of the team from freshman year until now. As you walk further in her room to investigate the group photos more closely, you notice your absence in many of them. You’re not a big fan of having your photo taken, so your absence doesn’t hurt your feelings. But given the scene you first walked into, maybe it was time to put aside that dislike so Olivia could have more physical memories of you, of someone who actually cares about her. 

Her bookcase catches your eye next. A couple of shelves are filled with used books, and a third shelf has a record player with a collection of records that spans the rest of the shelf. Your first instinct is to walk over to touch it, but you would never forgive yourself if you actually wrecked it somehow, so you stay where you are and keep your hands in your pockets. 

“You’ve got a nice room,” you say as Olivia takes off her coat and hangs it in her closet. 

“Thanks,” she smiles briefly. “Not much to look at though.” 

“Not from where I stand,” you reply before you can stop yourself. 

Your cheeks instantly get hot as Olivia blinks, visibly caught off guard by your words. You only start to smile shyly when you notice her blush. 

“Didn’t know you were the flirty type, Y/N/N.” 

“Me either,” you chuckle nervously. You’ve made the occasional yet playful flirtatious remark to your friends in the past but you never had the opportunity to actually flirt with anyone in a more romantic manner. 

Olivia pats on her bed for you to sit and you slowly plop on the edge of the bed, Olivia sitting close enough beside you that your thighs almost touch. You keep your hands in your lap, fiddling anxiously with your fingers. 

“I like you too, you know,” you admit slowly. “In a crush sort of way. I can’t stop thinking about you when you’re not around and when I see you, you’re all I can focus on. And…god when you get close, like this, or you do that cute little thing when you flip your hair… my-my brain just…short circuits.” You laugh briefly. 

Olivia reaches over and lays her hand over yours, squeezing gently. You steal a glance her way but refuse to lift your head, which doesn’t matter in the end since she places a finger beneath your chin and lifts it. You swallow nervously, but are met with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye that makes your heart melt. 

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I go through the same struggles everyday,” she admits, her thumb slowly stroking your knuckles. “In case I wasn’t clear earlier, I want you to be mine.” Finally letting those words come out into the open is enough to make her pause for a moment, her gaze suddenly portraying how nervous she is too. “If you’ll have me, that is,” she added quietly, her gaze falling to your jacket. 

“If I’ll have you?” You ask, your tone gentle yet full of disbelief, a huff of laughter forcing its way through. “You’re Olivia Benson, captain of the volleyball team and one of the smartest people in school. I’m lucky just to get to call you my friend. It’s me who should be asking that.” 

“Well I’m asking, and I hope months of pining for you won’t end with an answer that includes rejection."

Your face grows warm again at her words, and it feels like flames are licking at your skin where she’s touching you. You gulp, trying to form words when you finally whisper, “Of course I’ll have you. But I’m curious, what does being yours include, exactly?”

Your lungs suddenly tighten when Olivia reaches over with her free hand and cups your cheek. “For tonight, it includes staying over and letting me hold you until we fall asleep,” she says, her voice a little unsteady from anxiety. 

Just the mere idea of getting to do that with you has her heart in her throat and the butterflies in her belly threatening to make her fly away. 

You smile at her simple request and Olivia visibly relaxes as you press your face a little harder into her palm. Your own butterflies are making your stomach vibrate with a mixture of nerves and excitement at the idea of sharing a bed with Olivia. 

“I can do that,” you reply. 

-

Taglist

. o O o .

We talk. For the entire night, Xaden and I stay in a secluded corner of the dining hall—not daring to go to my room, near a bed or any other private place—and talk. About our feelings, about trust, about secrets. And he lets me in. Not entirely, maybe, but enough for me to know that he’s not keeping any vital secrets from me on purpose anymore.

We’re not where we were about a week ago, before war games and Resson and Aretia broke what we started that night, on the parapet and in his bedroom. But when we kiss goodbye before he has to leave in the morning, I’m optimistic that we’re getting there again.

And we do. By the time he arrives at Basgiath twenty-six days later, the long time of pondering my feelings and his words combined with Tairn’s thrumming impatience to see Sgaeyl again softened me. So when he takes my face between his hands, gently, and gazes into my eyes like a man starving, all he finds there is love and forgiveness.

That night, our dragons’ shields aren’t as solid as they could be. Just like that night the snow fell, their lust and desire leaks through, echoing within Xaden and me, but this time, we’re not even trying to fight it. Because there won’t be any regrets in the morning. Or in the days after. Officially, I don’t have leave on the days before and after this weekend. But there is absolutely no possibility of me leaving my bed, leaving Xaden, not with emotions and desire boiling hot.

I’m sure Rhiannon will be able to make up some excuse for me. That I’m down with some illness or whatever. Fuck, I don’t care. I should thank her though, for the lack of interruptions and also for the trays with food and water occasionally appearing in front of my door. And I will. Once I can think straight again.

And even when Xaden and Sgaeyl leave again after four days, I can’t keep the wide grin off my face. Everything’s working out better than I thought it would.

For about two and a half weeks into the second month of separation, at least.

. o O o .

“Fucking shit, Sorrengail!” a rider from Third Wing shouts, cursing as she slaps out the glowing sparks on her jacket. “Get your dragon to back off, will you?”

“I’m sorry,” I call over, trying to give them an apologetic smile. “He’s just…”

But I don’t even bother finishing. She and the group of riders around her give me dirty looks and step around the still smoking scorch mark, leaving me standing next to Tairn’s leg.

“What was that?” I demand, a little unnerved. “That was already the third time you nearly torched someone this week.” And it’s not as if they came that close, either. He really has no excuse.

Tairn doesn’t give me a verbal answer, only growls low in his chest. I still get it, though, and my shoulders slump.

“You miss her that much, huh?”

Tairn shuffles, his tail with the spiked club at the end curling around us. “Yes,” he growls into my mind.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this because of me.” I place a hand on his leg, the black scales smooth beneath my fingers. “I wish there was something I could do to make it right again.” Then I frown. “But I don’t understand. Last month, it didn’t affect you this much. What’s different now?”

Tairn gives me a strange look, intense and piercing. Then he lets out a grumbling soundthat causes the last stragglers on the flight field to quickly leave and their dragons to take off into the sky without lingering. “What’s different now is that last month, I thought I could just wait it out and bear it,” he grumbles. “I thought it would get easier.” He snakes his head left and right, a tremor running through him. “But it doesn’t. It’s just as bad as last month, maybe even worse. Two years of this will be too much.”

My heart sinks. I doubt leadership will change our orders, not after they saw that Tairn and Sgaeyl made it through that first month just fine. “Tairn…” Absentmindedly, I stroke along his scales, aiming to soothe him. “I know it’s hard for you, but—”

Tairn huffs, a noise that sounds eerily like laughter. “Oh, you have no idea how hard it is, Silver One.”

Except, that I do. It’s there, at the edge of my mind, like some subliminal knowledge. No, that’s not quite it. It’s Tairn, his thoughts and emotions just hovering outside my consciousness. And I know this feeling, know it all too well. This feeling of cold nights and sticky sweat, trembling frustration. Something more than just longing.

It’s unresolved lust.

“Tairn?” I say out loud this time, alarmed. I withdraw my hand from his leg, and he groans. At the loss of contact?

“It’s a tricky truth, this tale about how mated dragons can’t live without each other.” Tairn bends his leg so his scales brush against my hand again. “It’s a ruse but also not a lie.”

Warmth prickles along my skin. “What do you mean?”

“When one of us dies, the other follows, that much is true. But being separated doesn’t affect our health, not directly.” He takes a step forward, effectively blocking out the rest of the world. “But we dragons are loyal. Once mated, this bond can never be undone. It’s a choice as much as it is an imperative, unbreakable. Or, to use your words, I’ll never in my life fuck another dragon but but the one I’m mated with.”

I blink, taken by surprise. Though mostly by his bluntness; I can feel his longing through our bond, after all. Then I burst out into laughter. “So, you’re saying you’re suffering from blue balls? That’s it? That’s the whole problem?”

Tairn growls, louder now, and his tail curls a little tighter. “Have you ever wondered how it is that we can fly across half the continent without a pause?” he says instead of an answer. “Or how we can fight and wield magic for hours and hours during a battle? How much energy that costs?”

Carefully, I shake my head.No, I haven’t. But thinking about it now, it must indeed be a lot, more than I can grasp without longer studies.

“Right,” Tairn scoffs. “And what do you think we do with that much energy when we don’t use it up? When we’re cooped up in these mountains with only your occasional flight lessons to think about?” He lowers his head, looking at me through eyes that seem to glow in the light of the evening sun.

Mutely, I shake my head. I don’t know the answer, though I feel like I can guess.

“We fuck.” Tairn’s words snap into my mind like thunder after a lightning strike. “What you and the shadow wielder sense occasionally are the moments we lose track of the world and everything around us, when we’re in too deep to care. What you don’t feel are the other times. You might call them quickies. The half-hours we steal here and there just to use up at least a tiny bit of that energy brewing in our bodies. For smaller dragons, once or twice per day is usually sufficient, but for Sgaeyl and me, anything under five times leaves us restless and aching. Ten times is better. So, yes, Silver One. I’m suffering from ‘blue balls’, as you called it. And it is intolerable.”

I bite my lip and look away, feeling bad for having laughed at him. This really isn't funny in any way. “But can’t you just...jerk off, or something? I don’t know. Rut against a tree, maybe?”

He lets out another huffing laugh. “That’s not how it works for us. Only another warm body will do.”

He comes closer still until my back hits the smooth wall of his scaled tail behind me. Without a warning, he opens his shields and foreign sensations flash through my mind, flooding it. Impressions of a thrumming tightness in my belly, of tingling limbs, yearning for the touch of the one that matters, insistent throbbing between my legs, so intense that it’s edging on pain.

After only one heartbeat, the sensations disappear as Tairn’s shields are back up again. But it still leaves my knees shaking, my head spinning, my hands fumbling for anything to hold on to.

“I—I’m so sorry,” I breathe, blinking to focus my vision again. “I…I had no idea…”

Tairn huffs again. “That was merely a memory. A memory of one of the times the shadow wielder got sent to a midland post for two days last year. If I were to let you feel how I feel now, it would tear your mind to shreds.”

A shiver runs down my spin at merely imagining it. How he must feel. He’s right, two years of this agony is too much.

“We have to do something.” I try to get back on my feet but still need to hold on to Tairn’s tail behind me, my knees still too wobbly to hold me. “Have to get them to change our orders. They can’t make you go through this. And not just you. How is Sgaeyl supposed to focus on fighting when she feels like this?”

“Your leadership won’t budge.”

He says it calmly, like it is just a simple fact, like stating the weather. And it is, I suppose. Because we both know they won’t.

“But you don’t need to worry about my mate’s safety—or the shadow wielder’s. Sgaeyl already found a solution.”

“She did?” I frown. “But I thought there is no other—”

“No other dragon, the mating bond is too sacred for that. But there’s another option.” Tairn’s tail moves behind me, gently pushing me closer to him again. “Another bond that’s equally sacred.”

I blink. There is no other dragon bond like the mating bond.Not between parents and their offspring, not even towards their elders. Nothing. The only other bond that might come close is—

My brain short-circuits.

No! No, that’s not possible. Tairn can’t mean…the bond between a dragon and rider? But that’s—

Soft calmness drowns my whirling thoughts, and even though I know it’s Tairn, I can’t fight against it. I’m not even sure I want to.

“Yes, Silver One. Our bond is the only one that rivals the mating bond, the only one that is equally strong. Equally important.”

“Okay, okay, stop there for a moment.” I hold my hands up as if I’d be capable of physically keeping Tairn from doing anything. “Our bond is strong, I get that. But what does that have to do with your current problem? I mean...It’s not like I could help you…blow off all that energy, or whatever.” I laugh, a little breathlessly. “I mean…all physical incompatibilities aside—”

And there are countless of those. It’s just impossible. Ludicrous. Insane. Just the idea of being in any form sexually involved with a fucking dragon, it’s…it’s… And just imagining what Tairn implied, that somehow Xaden and Sgaeyl… I shake my head, not to deny it but to clear it.

Because despite everything, the idea is not as disturbing as it should be.

“—I—I can’t do it. This. Whatever.” I take a deep breath. “I want to help you and I promise we’ll find a way. But I’m not going to go behind Xaden’s back. Or force you to go behind Sgaeyl’s.” And I won’t even be thinking about Tairn’s insinuations.

A low rumble sounds from Tairn’s chest, but it sounds more soothing than threatening. “I know, Silver One. I know your heart. But don’t you see? The four of us, we’re already linked, deeper and more intimate than physical relief can ever reach.”

The truth of his words sinks in quicker than I would have expected. Because he’s right, isn’t he? I’ve known it for months, ever since the night Oren attacked me in my sleep and Xaden brought me to the flight field, to this very spot. There’s a connection, not just between Tairn and me or Xaden and me. But also between Sgaeyl and me, between all four of us. We’re one.

“And…and you say Xaden and Sgaeyl already…” I switch back to talking mentally, a blush heating my cheeks. We might be alone out here, but I still wouldn’t want anyone to overhear this conversation.

“Yes, she told me when they were here,” Tairn growls, his mental voice rougher than usual, as if those memories alone set him off a few notches. A shudder runs through his powerful body, and I can’t blame him. Imagining it does things to me, too. “And in case you wonder why he didn’t tell you, it’s because he’s a coward,” Tairn adds with an amused huff. “Afraid of losing you again, or whatever. Because he still doesn’t see how hopelessly you’ve fallen for him.”

How unbreakable our bond is. Yeah, I get it. Xaden can be like this. The thought makes me smile.

But can I do this? Would he really understand? I only have Tairn’s word for it, and while I know he wouldn’t lie to me…

As I ponder, something else draws my attention. Something nudging against the edges of my consciousness. A message? No, a memory. A memory of me lying in my bed, deep asleep, exhausted from more orgasms than I could care to count. Xaden is leaning over me, brushing a kiss against my bare shoulder before he murmurs, “It’s okay.” Just these two words, out of context and without me even registering them. Except I did, this memory and its meaning planted into my mind for this very moment.

It’s okay.

“I got beaten by a god-damn girl.”

Lloyd Hansen would never live this down.  He was considered to be the best. The best mercenary in the entire world.  Everyone knew it.  But as he limped down to his safe house, taking note of all the injuries, it was his ego that was the most damaged.  His phone rang and he just picked up: “Hello?”

“You gotta problem walkin’ Hansen?”

He groaned, hearing your voice. “I got shot in the ass sweetheart.  By you.”

“Well, how else was I supposed to escape,” you giggled.

“I’m gonna find you princess.  No one beats Lloyd Hansen,” he growled.

“Looking forward to it sunshine.” You move to hang up but give one more quip.  “Lovin the ‘stache Mr. Hansen. Tootles,” and you hang up.

Lloyd stares at the phone.  “This brat is going to be the fucking end of me.”

You watch him from your hiding spot from the roof.  He continues to walk into his building, and you smile.  He was a typical man, and you exposed his weakness. They always fall for a pretty girl. You grinned and made your way through the Paris streets to your own safehouse.  You connect with your buyer.

“I have the files. But it will cost you.”

“I’m already paying you $5 Million”

“And you neglected to mention that I would be going up against Lloyd Hansen.  Would have never taken the job if I knew it was against him.”

“Are you saying you couldn’t do it?”

“Never said that.  It was just a teensy bit more difficult than it should have been.  So, the price has doubled. $10 Million by the end of the week or I burn these, and no one gets them.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“That’s business.”  You shrug at no one and hang up. You go to the sideboard and pour yourself a scotch with ice, swirling it in your hand, your mind on Lloyd.  Enemy or not, the man emanated a level of masculinity that could not be ignored.  His ass looked amazing in those white pants, and you could feel his muscles under the jacket. Your thoughts drifted to how that moustache would feel between your thighs. You sighed and drained the glass, refilled and headed for the bath.

Lloyd had his assistant treat his wounds, most superficial, while he drank his own glass of scotch.  Once his assistant left, he went to his computer and pulled his file on you.  Your picture came up along with any known details. “gorgeous,” he mumbled as he stared at your picture. You were fairly new to the game but that didn’t stop his growing erection at your image.

You were a spitfire, that was for sure, able to go toe to toe with him. He knows he got one good hit in, but you were quick, flexible, strong.  He groaned remembering how your leg came up over your head to kick him.  He palmed his pants at the memories of your ponytail whipping around as you spun.  He imagined what it would be like to hold said ponytail while your lips were wrapped around his cock, those beautiful eyes staring up at him.

“Oh, fuck this.”  He unzipped his pants and pumped his rock-hard cock as he stared at your image.  “I’m going to make you pay for this princess,” he whispered, gripping himself harder as he pumped faster, reaching his climax and spilling his load over his hand and stomach. “Shit.” He reached for some napkins on his desk and cleaned himself up.  “Can’t wait to make you heed, princess,” he said to your image.

A couple of days later, you were walking to your favorite bistro, headphones in, looking as casual as possible in a knee length flower dress, jean jacket and hat. You sat down at an outdoor table, your bag on the floor as you ordered a coffee.  A couple sat next to you as you read your book. And from the corner of your eye, you spot him.  “Merde,” you mumble.

“You ok?” The man next to you ask. He and his lady looking concerned.

Plastering a smile and turning on your French accent, you turn to him.  “It is fine.  I just see an old acquaintance I was not expecting.”

“He harassing you?” The lady with the man asked.

“No so much as he is an ex lover wanting more,” you reply.  “You are American, no?”

The red head blushed at your question. “Oh, yes, on our honeymoon.”

“Ah, toutes nos felicitations. Congratulations.  Ah Monsieur,” you wave the waiter down, “deux coupes de champagne pour les jenues maries, s’il vous plait.” (Two glasses of champagne for the newlyweds, please)

“No you don’t have too…” the man starts.

“You are so nice to me.  Mon Plaisir, my pleasure. Je m’appelle Marie.” You offer your hand so you can keep an eye on Hansen.

“Oh, Nick and Mason, nice to meet you.”

Your phone pings and you check it.

Unknown: Got you princess

“Desole, excusez-moi but I must go.  Enjoy Paris.”  You grab your bag casually as you head for the car on the curb. You head around the car and take off at a run, getting to the bridge before the car pulls away from the curb.  You slow down as to not draw suspicion and pull a scarf around your hair, dumping the hat. Once you round the corner, you take out what you need from your bag, pull another bag from it and put your items and dump your bag. You take off your jacket and head to the subway.

Lloyd walked over to the car just as it pulled away, noting that back seat was empty.  He glimpsed your hair on the bridge but loses you while in pursuit.  “Dammit,” he growled.  He pulled surveillance from the area. He scans the footage but see your bag on top of the trash.  He gets ready to changes cameras but sees you looking at the camera directly and blowing a kiss.  “Ballsy. I like it,” as he watches you board a train. He calls his surveillance team.  “Get me the train routes.”

You jump trains at the next station, knowing you blew your cover but pick pocketing for a new scarf and some glasses.  You make it back to a different neighborhood and start the long walk back to your safe house.  You keep a sharp eye on the mostly deserted streets and find it eerie that it was quiet.  You find a bar and slide into a booth in the back.  “Une Biere, s’il vous plait.” (Beer, please)

“Mademoiselle,” the bartender said.  You checked out the bar and then pulled your phone.

Unknown: Nice getaway sweetheart

YN: Thanks!

UK: I’m still gonna find you

YN: Well you have until Friday because that’s when I meet my buyer.

YN: Happy hunting Mr. Hansen

UK: Looking forward to it.

You smiled, forwarded what you needed and took apart the phone. You drained the beer in a few minutes, threw some bills down.  You readjusted your look and headed back into the night.  A few moments later, you heard a noise and ducked into an alley.  You peeked around the corner, not seeing a thing. Until the click of a gun cocking back sounded and the cool metal pressed to your temple.  You close your eyes as you hear, “You left it on too long, princess,” being breathed into your ear.

“So, the great Lloyd Hansen can get the drop on me,” you whisper as he yanks you back against the wall.  You yelp as your head makes contact with the wall.

“Told you I’d find you sweetheart.  Now, he got closer, why did you take my files?”

You shrug and smile.  “I was busy and I forgot to do research.  You had what I needed so I borrowed it.”

“Borrowed?  Well, then you can give them back.”

“Don’t wanna,” you pout.

Lloyd’s eyes narrow slightly. “Knew you were a brat. Don’t make me hurt you.  Give me back my files.”

“Not a chance, moustache man.” You smirk at him.

He growls and gets right next to your ear.  “That was a mistake sweetheart.  I’ll make you talk.”

“I’d love to see you try. Just remember, you can’t kill me. You need me.”

It was Lloyd’s turn to smirk.  “You have no idea. And I just may have fun with that statement.  Let’s go.”  He gripped your arm and walked you to an SUV.  “Get in.”  At this point, you knew there wasn’t much of a choice, so in you went.  He climbs in after you and headed back to a familiar part of the city.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my safehouse.  Need a place to break you princess,” as he leaned in against your neck, “where no one can hear you scream,” he whispered. The hairs of his moustache brushed the sensitive skin of your flesh, causing goosebumps to rise. “And I’ll make you scream like the little slutty brat that you are.”  The car came to a stop, and he hauled you out.  Now you were worried.  Not so much for the pain.  There was always pain.  But for whatever else this psycho spy had in store for you.

Lloyd had to hand it to his team.  When he ordered something, they jumped.  High.  The room was set with restraints, toys, whips, the works.  He would get his little bratty spy to talk.  He got you into the room and closed the door.  He pulled a remote and locked the door.  Well shit, you thought to yourself.  You looked around to see an ensuite but no windows. “Well, this is cozy,” you tell him sarcastically.

“Yeah, that will depend on what you decided.  Tell me where my files are, I let you go.  Resist and well,” he waved his arm, “I have plenty of tools to make you talk.  Or scream. Or moan.  Whatever I decide I want to hear in the moment.”

“You understand that its considered assault right?”  You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh sweetheart.  I’ve seen the look in your eye.  The lust that fills them and you know what?” He sat and pulled you in between his legs.  “You can’t,” kissing your palm, “rape,” kissing the crook of your elbow before pulling down to sit on lap, face to face, “the willing,” as he places as searing kiss on your lips.

You moan at the sensation, his bottom lip so full.  You think the moustache would get in the way but nope, it doesn’t. He’s got you right where he wants you but that is the furthest thing from your mind.  He pushes you back against a wall, reaches for your hands and pins them above your head. You whimper at the touch of his groin against yours.  As you had suspected, he is big and strong.  He’s going to ruin you.

“You like that, princess?” He asks against your lips. You nod but it’s not enough for him.  “Tell me where my files are and I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Your files are somewhere I won’t tell you.   $10 Million is a great incentive to keep my mouth shut.” You move to straddle his legs, pressing your heat into his groin, listening to him groan. It’s a power move, trying to change the narrative. “Unless you can give me a million more to give them back.”

“Oh princess, I can give you a million and one that you’d be on my side,” he says against your lips.  He presses a soft kiss on your lips and moves slowly.  You sigh at the touch, relaxing involuntarily at the sensation until Lloyd grabs your hair and pull you back with a harsh tug. You cry out and he chuckles evilly.  “I’m going to enjoy hearing all of your noises.”

“Lloyd,” you cry out.

“Oh yeah, I’m really going to enjoy it.” He pulls you in hard, placing a bruising kiss on your lips, forcing his tongue into you. “Mhmmm, baby you taste so sweet.  Do you taste like that everywhere pretty girl?”

You nod and he stands, grasping your thighs and flipping you over onto your back. He hovers over you, his hand sliding up your thigh to feel your lacy covered ass. “Naughty girl,” he mumbled against your neck as he lets his long fingers feel around and press harsh kisses to your neck. His evil fingers moved to the front. “Already so wet,” he growled as he touched you through the lace.

You threw your head back at the sensation, hip jutting up. Lloyd took the opportunity to pull your panties over your hips.  He pulls them off your legs and raises them to his nose. “Oh yeah, I can kill anyone but I’m going to enjoy killing this pussy.” He pushed you up the bed, kissing you the entire time.  He grasps your wrist over your head.  He holds them as he grinds into your heat, listening to the smalls moans and gasps that come out. He pulls away just to take in your lust filled eyes, big and shiny, lips swollen. “Oh kitten,” he purred, “you just have no idea.”

He placed another soul shattering kiss on your lips. You are lost, nibbling on his lip, listening to his growl as the pain went straight to his cock. “Keep your hands there, little savage.”  He released your arms, but you didn’t move. The evil glint in his eyes makes you stay still but not paying attention. He removes his shirt, and you glimpse all the tattoos and you lick your lips.  He climbs back on top of you, kissing you again and you miss him clasping the restraints around your wrist.

“What, the…”

“Oh, you thought I’d take it easy on you. No, princess, you lost that right when you refused to tell me where my goddamm fucking files are.  Now, now I’m gonna get to play.”

“Wait, Hansen, please…”

“Not a chance Princess.  You might want to think about the right answer when I ask again.”  He pulled away your skirt and ripped open the top part of your dress. “Look at that. So fucking pretty.” He got in between your legs  and spread them far apart.  “Just a taste princess.”  He laid his tongue flat against your folds and licked up.  “Fuck yes!”

You shuddered at the sensation, trying not to release the moan that is threatening. He can see you fighting it and goes in again and again until you can’t take it and moan his name. “Lloyd,” you mewl.

“There she is.  Oh no baby girl.  I want to play with you.”  He stood up and you watched him.  You licked your lips at the tight jeans on his ass, the muscles rippling as he reached into a drawer.  He kept whatever he got hidden until he was on top of you again.  He kissed you hard, letting yourself taste yourself.  “Taste good don’t you?”  You nod and he laughs. “Such a fucking slut.”

“Lloyd, Lloyd please!”

“Nope.”  He touches you again but this time, you feel the vibrations running up your center.  You arch your back and moan.  He ups the intensity every couple of minutes until he can see that you are ready to combust and he stops, much to your frustration.

“Lloyd!”

“Tell me where the files are.” He started again, and the build up goes faster.  Your hips are moving, hoping to steal your orgasm from him.  But he’s quick and pulls away.  You scream in frustration. “Looks like I have to up the ante.”  He flips you over and raises your hips in the air.  He put the vibrator back in you on low and stands.  He reaches for the riding crop on the side.  He uses it to trace the curve of your ass.  He raises the intensity of the toy, listening for the effect on you before bring the crop down. You suck in air at the pain but moan at how much more you are turned on by it.

“Please, please,” you beg, unsure of what you actually wanted.

“My little slutty brat. Enjoying this aren’t you?”  He could see the level of lust blowing out your eyes.  He gives one more smack with the crop before he switched to the flogger.  He flips you again, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on your body.  He releases the velvet strands of the flogger over your skin, watching you buck up at the sensation.

“Fuck! Please!”

“All you have to do is tell me where my files are.” Lloyd teased your clit, making you buck up. “Don’t you want it baby?  Don’t you want that release?”

“Lloyd,” you cried, tears now streaming from your face.

“It could just be so simple.  You tell me, I get you and I’ll keep you satisfied.”  He took away the toy and shoved two fingers into your hold and pumped them in time with each word.  “Just. Tell. Me. Where. My. Files. Are.”

Your brain is on fire, every nerve is ready to snap and break you.  His rough movements that should be painful are not as he hits your spot over and over and over…

“They are in the safe!” you scream.  “The safe in my best friend’s house!”

Lloyd stops, shoves his jeans and boxers down and shoves all of him in you while you scream.  He pounds into you, fucking you like you have never been fucked before. He releases your binds, and your arms drop to his shoulders.  You dig your nails in, drawing blood as your scratch his back.  He lifts a leg over his shoulder, and he is deeper than anyone else has ever been before.

“C’mon baby, give it to me.  Cum all over my big fat cock,” he grunts.

Now, you are lost, as your eyes roll into the back of your head and you cum so hard, all you see are stars.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he growls as he pumps. He pulls out harshly and flips you to your front and fraps your hips to put your ass in the air. “This ass,” as he smacks, “is mine.” He shoves his cock back in, delighting in your screams as he pounds into you.  He grasps your hair to pull you close to him.  “Look at my girl, taking me so well.”  He reaches to tease your clit, prompting a second orgasm from you. “So pretty when you cum baby girl.”  He doesn’t stop, just thrust harder and harder into you until he gets to his release.  “Fuck YN!” he yells as he cums in you.  He slows and stops, holding you up. He pulls out, rather gently for someone who has wrecked you.  He lays down and brings you with him, your head on his chest.  Both of you are trying to breathe again and he runs his fingers over your spine, while gently kissing your temple. “I would put this pussy on payroll if I could.”

You snorted.  “You couldn’t afford me baby.”

“What if I paid you in cash and orgasms? I would worship the ground you walked on.”  Lloyd rolled you over so he could cage you in.  “I would make you the most feared woman in the world.  Have men fall at your feet.  Be my queen.” He kissed you, slow and long.

“You got the files. Why do you want to keep me?”

“Because if I keep the most feared woman by my side, happy and satisfied, it would make me the most powerful man in the world.”  He started to kiss lower on your neck and then to your chest.

“Fuck those lips and tongue,” you moan. You can feel him smile at your words as he goes lower and lower.

**

Lloyd took you apart over and over, putting you back together to until the first rays of dawn.  Lloyd woke with you on his chest and smiled.  He never wanted a queen, but he could adjust.  He went to get up and his arm wouldn’t move. He looked and the shackle was now around his wrist.  “What the fuck!”

“Oh,” you replied sleepily.  “Forgot I did that.”  You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.  “Hmmm,” as you kiss him.

“Princess, what are you doing?”

You grind on him, and his body reacts, his cock now hard.  You sink onto him as he groans.  You rock your hips, and his head falls back. “Ah fuck!”

You continue to move as he moaned. You lean over him, still moving your hips.  “I’m taking what’s mine Hansen.”  You fuck him hard until you release and then pull away from him.

“The fuck do you think you are doing?” He roars.

“Becoming queen, like you asked,” you reply innocently.  You wave the remote to the door as you shrug on his shirt.  Its like a dress on you.  You grab his belt and make an outfit.  You smooth your hair.  “I’m going to sell your files and keep you right where I want you.”

“You bitch!” He thrashed on the bed.

“Be a good boy Lloyd, baby.  And I’ll come back and make you feel all better,” you smirk.  You sashay your hips as you unlock the door and leave him in the room.  Before you close the door, you blow him a kiss.

Lloyd Hansen has never been beaten by a girl.