#pedritos

as a long day of not much comes to an end, din feels a sense of contentment and peace wash over him. his day has consisted solely of him and his co-pilot, you, playing with grogu. it was supposed to be training for the little one but it had devolved into simple fun, not goal orientation outside of feeling good. despite din’s incessant insistence on training, he allowed himself to relax today. it brought him a sense of ease he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

he turns over in his pilot’s seat, running a gloved hand through his hair. wearing his helmet around you has long been forgotten. you’ve been travelling together for years now, his level of comfort with you is beyond what he’s felt with anyone else.

“cyar'ika,” din mutters, capturing your attention. you turn in your seat, looking over at din. as you notice the serious look in his eyes, you straighten up, turning to face him completely. 

“what’s wrong?” you ask, worried about what he could say. there’s hardly anything you don’t know about each other. even though din’s not the most talkative person, he’s gotten to be more open with you, so the idea that there’s something he isn’t telling you is unnerving. 

“we’ve been doing this for a while now,” din says, taking a deep breath, “i trust you. i’ve shown you my face. i want you to know about this part of myself too.” 

“okay,” you say softly, nodding for him to continue. there’s a look of concern on his face that makes your stomach feel ill, but you know for a fact that nothing could ever make you hate him. ever. “you can tell me, din. i promise i’d never judge you.”

“i know,” he nods, his soft brown eyes leaving yours to stare at the floor, “i was not born a man. i was born female. but i always knew there was something not quite right. being a mandalorian made things easier as no one could tell who i was underneath the armour. but it wasn’t about other people, it’s about me and my body. i couldn’t look at it and see a woman’s body anymore. so i transitioned and now i look the way i’ve always felt.” he brings his eyes back up to meet yours. it’s clear to you that this isn’t easy for him, being so open about something that once caused him great distress. 

“oh, din,” you sigh, smiling, “i’m so happy you told me and i’m glad i made you feel like you could. i understand why you were worried, but i’ll always be there for you, mando. your past is of no concern to me. you are the wonderful person in front of me right now.” 

“thank you,” din nods, smiling somewhat awkwardly but you can tell he appreciates your words. you stand up out of your seat and walk over to give him a hug. he’s never been much of a hugger in all of your years together, but this time he reciprocates, hugging you back tightly. he pulls you down into the seat with him, earning a shocked gasp from you. 

“what’s that for?” you frown, lacking any malice in your expression as you stare down at din’s smirking face. 

“nothing,” he shrugs, letting his hands drift down your torso, “we should go to bed. been a long day.” he pats the side of your hip and pushes you off his lap gently. 

“yeah,” you nod, trying to brush off what din just did, “good night.” din smiles at you and disappears off into his quarters. 

although you’re undeniably confused, din’s light temperament is a good sign. he obviously trusts you as much as he says he does. with a warmth in your chest, you retire to your own quarters, getting changed and slipping into bed. 

before you can fall asleep, a knock comes at the door of your quarters and it slides open, revealing din, wrapped up in his pajamas. you sit up and din approaches, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“what’s up, mando?” you ask, “can’t sleep?” din shakes his head. 

“i just…” he sighs, unable to look at you once again, “was wondering if you’d let me sleep in your bed tonight– with you?” this isn’t something he’s ever asked of you. you’ve asked if you could sleep in his bed a few times due to nightmares, but he’s never asked for the return.

“yeah, yeah, of course,” you say, shuffling over to make room for him, “least i can do, seeing as you’ve let me sleep in yours.” din smiles through the darkness, hopping into the bed next to you. usually when you sleep together, he faces away from you, you having a long night of his staring at your back. but tonight faces you. you can see his soft smile still there. 

“you want a cuddle or something, mando?” you chuckle, opening your arms for him. he nods, shuffling over and snuggling into your arms. you run a hand through his hair, earning a soft hum from him. it’s not quite a purr, but it’s close. he leans into your touch, encouraging you to explore more of his hair. 

as you curl your fingers into his hair, he moves his head to nuzzle into your neck. you feel his aquiline nose run up your neck and then a soft press of his lips under your chin. the feeling of his lips against your neck sends a shiver down your spine. your fingers flex, tugging at din’s hair on accident, causing him to whimper. 

“din?” you whisper, pulling back to look him in the eyes. 

“cyar'ika,” he says, his voice firm. he knows what he wants and he’s telling you. he wants you. 

one of his hands grips your hip and the other slips round your waist, pushing your crotch against his. he grinds your bulge to his noticeable lack of one, earning grunting moans from the pair of you.

“shit– din,” you moan, shoving his head into your neck, “i wanna be inside you– please.” your desperate plea goes straight to din’s cock; he feels himself getting wetter. he nibbles at your neck softly, flicking his tongue out to lick a stripe up your neck before grabbing one of your hands and slipping it into his pants.

“i want you too,” he breathes, dipping your fingers into his dripping wet cunt, “please.” the feeling of his cunt clenching round your fingers is almost enough to make you cum. 

“fuck,” you groan, flipping din onto his back and tugging at his pants. din shoves your hands away, pulling his pants down himself as you shove yours down enough to let your aching cock free. his eyes widen when he sees the size of you. he’s never seen anyone else’s genitals before, his creed inexplicitly forbidding it, so the sight of your cock makes him drool. “like it?”

din nods, letting out a whimper. he flicks his eyes up to yours. he doesn’t need to say a word, his desires are clear. positioning yourself between his legs, you line your cock up with his hole, pressing in. it’s a tight squeeze, trying to fit inside din’s tight virgin hole, but you make it work.

“easy, easy, breathe for me,” you whisper, rubbing din’s waist as he winces, gripping your arm tight. he nods, taking a deep breath. “it’ll hurt a bit but it’ll feel real good in a second, i promise.” 

like clockwork, your next thrust hits his g spot square on and his eyes roll back, a loud moan leaving his lips. 

“shit,” he whines, “do that again.” you chuckle, leaning in to kiss him and you replicate your thrusts. they’re slow and methodical, making certain that his first time feels good. 

“that feel good, baby?” you moan, slipping a hand between you two, finding his clit. he clings to you, his hands scrambling for purchase on your back, as he throws his head back with a needy moan. 

“nghh– mhm,” din bucks up against your hand, his head lolling back as he moans for you. one of his hands finds your hair and he tugs hard. 

“fuck- din!” you wince, leaning back to ease his grip. he immediately loosens and he mutters an apology. you lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. “it’s okay– i know it feels good.” 

“r–really good,” din moans. you can feel him getting closer as he clenches around your cock. 

“you gonna cum, baby?” you smirk, circling his clit faster as you speed up your thrusts. he nods, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“please,” he whimpers. you kiss him again, holding him close as you bring him orgasm. he moans into your mouth and clenches around you again, harder this time, bringing you over the edge with him. you snap your hips forwards, lapping your tongue into din’s mouth, as you fuck both of you through your orgasms.

you lay there in each other’s arms for a moment, bathing in the wake of your orgasms. when you pull back, your cock slips out of din with a pop and a squelch, your cum leaking out of his hole. as you stare in awe of the delicious sight of him sprawled out, well fucked, below you, you remember– he could get pregnant. 

“shit!” you mutter, “din– can you get pregnant? i mean, you got the parts to, right?” din’s eyes widen and he pauses, thinking for a moment.

“i mean, i do but i don’t get my period,” he says, shrugging, “so i really couldn’t tell you. it’s not something i thought i’d ever need to worry about.” 

“oh– okay,” you nod. his words are not exactly a relief, “what happens if you are pregnant?”  din chuckles.

“let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” he smiles, cupping your cheek, “but if it does, i’m sure we’ll figure something out. i honestly don’t think i’d mind having a kid– someone for grogu to hang out with. the belly might not fit in the armour, though.” you laugh, dropping your head into his neck. 

“yeah, i don’t think it would,” you sigh, the laughter easing your concerns, “you really okay with this?” din nods, kissing you softly on the lips.

“i’m okay with this– with all of this. thank you.” you kiss him back, pulling him in to spoon him, cuddling up with him.

“any time, mando,” you whisper, kissing him on the cheek.

♡♡♡♡

she was beautiful. she had high cheekbones that made her face look like a love heart. she had ocean blue eyes that were framed by thick mascara. the way her soft bangs brushed across her eyebrows made harry fall in love immediately. harry knows he’s a hopeless romantic, falling over his feet at the first sight of a charming woman. he hoped this time, she’d return his affections. he’s been ghosted before, left at the altar, his heart broken irreparably, but this was new.

♡♡♡♡

last week, harry had been at his brother’s wedding. that’s where he met this woman– lucy. she was the matchmaker that had set up his friends. seeing their relationship bloom and culminate in marriage had harry hooked. he had to know this magnetic woman. 

“so, you’re this magic matchmaker i’ve been hearing so much about,” he had said, slipping down next to her at the table. she gave him a look that pulled him in. a look that told him that he was getting laid– to put it bluntly. if only he knew that was true, just not in the way he thought. 

“i am,” she said, lips pursed with a polite smile that only a man could interpret as flirtatious. 

“i’d like to employ your services,” he smirked, leaning forwards, “could i get your name?” 

“lucy.” her tongue tapped the behind of her straight teeth as her painted red lips circled her name. harry dove inside and took nest in that one word, dark eyes lost down the tunnel of her throat. 

“give me your number.” her red painted nails pulled harry from her throat to a napkin and pen. “i think i’ve already got the perfect match for you.” 

harry’s chest clenched as he practically scribbled his heart down on the napkin. he was certain she meant herself. she took it, placing it neatly in her handbag. he stole drinks from a waiter and talked with lucy like she was the last person alive. so when she called, harry picked up the phone before the first ring was finished.

“your match is here,” she sang down the line, “meet them at the diner a block from the wedding venue. tomorrow. 5pm sharp.” with that she hung up, leaving harry with a lazy smile and weak knees. 

by 5pm the next day, harry’s entire closet was on the floor. he’d cycled through every outfit he has. too fancy. too lazy. completely mismatched. he was on the verge of tearing his hair out when he decided on a brown zip neck jumper and light coloured khakis. a simple outfit that took him hours to decide on. 

♡♡♡♡

as he reaches the diner, he realises how overdressed he is. it’s not run down by any means, it’s well kept, but it’s clearly a mom and pop’s diner. you can feel the raw authenticity, the blood, sweat and tears that went into every inch of the place. he feels like an outsider. 

he’s rarely ashamed of his wealth, but arriving here has made his ears tinge pink. each item of clothing he’s donned likely amounts to the cost of the entire diner. he had assumed that lucy was rich as well. he feels foolish for assuming as much– she’ll probably think he’s a snob. 

adjusting his hair in the glass of the door, he takes a deep breath and steps inside. 

“furthest table from door,” he mutters to himself, remembering what lucy had texted him. his eyes lock on the end table, his legs making quick strides, his far too expensive shoes tapping on the linoleum like a taunt. the taunting taps halt in one loud click as harry freezes in front of the booth. 

lucy isn’t there. but that’s not the part that pulls harry’s stomach into his throat. 

a broad man with slicked back hair and a plaid shirt, that wouldn’t have cost him more than 20 dollars, looks up at harry from the booth. he has a scar on the right side of his face, from his nose to his cheek, a scruffy greying beard, and soft brown eyes filled with a small sense of hope. his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are tight and downturned.

“i’m sorry,” harry chuckles nervously, pulling a forced smile, “i’m supposed to be meeting a date here.” 

“uh, yeah,” the man nods, his voice clipped and firm, “so am i.” harry’s face falls as it hits him. lucy had set him up with this man. but he’s not gay. he’s not even bisexual. he’s never thought about another man that way.

“oh,” harry says, “i– i think there’s been a mistake here– i’m not… i don’t swing that way.” he watches in pain as the older man’s face droops, his eyes pushed down by the weight of his eyebrows as the tentative hope in them dissipates into one of heartbreak and shame. 

“fuck,” the man mutters, looking away from harry, too ashamed to let harry see his face. he pulls out a crumbled bill and chucks it on the table as he shuffles out of the booth. the man is big, making it difficult for him to maneuver out of the booth and past harry quickly, but he tries his hardest.

“wait,” harry stops the man, grabbing his arm as he tries to move past him, “what’re you doing?”

“leaving,” the man says quietly, trying to pull himself from harry’s grip but failing. 

“stay, please.” the man looks at harry once again, a pained scowl on his face. harry winces. he’s usually so good at talking to people but he feels like he’s only making things worse. “i know what i said and i’m sorry to disappoint you. but let me make it up to you. sit, we’ll talk, yeah? i’ll get you dinner, on me.” he can see the man’s hesitation, the sheer embarrassment of the situation still weighing on him.

“fine,” he mutters, “not like i got much else to do.” he sighs, bending slowly as he sits back down in the booth. he doesn’t have the energy for this kind of thing anymore. harry slips into the booth, sitting across from the man, his hands clasped nervously in his lap. 

“so,” harry says, trying to break the awkward silence, “what’s your name? i’m harry.”

“clint,” the man replies curtly, avoiding harry’s eyes as he beckons a waitress over, “you want something?” 

“what are you getting?” clint shoots harry a look of confusion.

“a beer.”

“oh, yeah, i’ll get one too.” the waitress takes their orders, two pints, with a smile. her smile is soft, her lips a dark pink and her uniform open enough for harry to catch a glimpse of her breasts as she leans over to take clint’s empty coffee cup. a sight that’d usually excite harry just makes him feel sick. he can feel clint’s gaze on him as his eyes flick from the waitress’ breasts to the table. as she leaves, the awkward silence falls over the pair again. 

“i’m sorry,” harry sighs, rubbing his face, “i don’t know why lucy did this. if i knew she got that vibe from me i would’ve told her i’m straight.” 

“i knew this was a bad idea,” clint groans, slumping back in the booth, “had a bad feeling. but my girl said i was being stupid.” 

“your girl?” harry asks. a part of him is curious but a larger part is just glad clint’s talking. 

“my daughter,” he says, watching his fingers tap the table, “she’s 10 years old and she’s my whole world.” clint’s face lightens, a small smile tugging on his lips as he thinks of his daughter. “my wife, she died when our daughter was born. she never got to meet her. i haven’t been on a date in– shit– over a decade, nearly two. my little girl told me i should try it out again. i didn’t want to but she seemed so happy with the idea of her old man finding love.” clint shrugs. 

“shit,” harry mutters. he feels even worse about ruining clint’s date now. “i’m so sorry i ruined this for you. fuck– i feel so bad. i’ll talk to lucy about this, i’ll make sure you get your money back or– or another date for free.” 

“it’s fine, harry,” clint sighs, “it’s not your fault. you don’t have to do none of that shit–” 

“but i want to,” harry interrupts, leaning forwards in his seat, “this isn’t fair on you. i wanna fix it.” clint frowns, looking a the hard set of harry’s jaw and the determined look in his eyes. this man isn’t gonna drop this. 

“fine,” clint says as the waitress returns with their pints. this time, harry doesn’t look at the waitress, letting clint do the pleasantries as he sits there staring at him. his eyes follow the scar on clint’s face, from the soft curve of his cheek to the sharp hook of his nose. it’s clearly very old, reminiscent of rougher times for clint, times long before his daughter or this failure of a date with harry. it’s intriguing, almost beautiful, to harry. 

harry shakes the thought from his head. he literally just told this man he was straight. and he meant it. 

“you can fix it by humouring this old man with a chat,” clint says, taking a swig of his pint, “so, why didn’t you tell lucy your sexuality? did she not ask you or something? ‘cause that’s one of the first things she asked when i came to her.” harry flushes a little, embarrassed to remember the fact that he thought lucy was hitting on him.

“well, you see, i kinda thought she was matching me with herself,” harry mutters, staring down his pint. clint tries to stifle a laugh but fails, almost spitting out his beer. 

“goddamn,” clint chuckles, “ain’t you mister hopeful. you’re the kinda guy that thinks the stripper actually wants to fuck him, aren’t you?” harry snaps his head up, insulted. 

“no, i’m not,” he mutters, “i–i’m just a bit of a romantic, y’know? i have one good conversation with someone and i feel like we’re fated or some shit. i can’t help it.” he shrugs meekly, a small smile gracing his lips as he thinks about his past loves and all the big romantic gestures he did for them. 

“that’s alright, kid,” clint smiles, “i was like that with my wife. i understand.” harry gives clint a look of sympathy but clint doesn’t seem upset by the memory of his wife. he looks happy. the memories of his wife are no longer simply painful wounds but an ode to the love they shared and it’s place forever in clint’s heart. 

“i mean, you can’t blame me for thinking that way,” harry says, trying to lessen his embarrassment, “as soon as she saw me, she told me she had the perfect match for me. so, naturally i assumed it was her.” clint’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“the perfect match?” he says, his interest peaked, “here i was thinking i was a difficult match. what about you makes you my perfect match? right now, i can only see how different we are.” 

“same,” harry mutters, his voice distant as he tries to process clint’s words. harry is ungodly rich and clint, by the looks of things, is very much not. harry is straight and clint is…. not. “are you gay or bisexual?”

“changing the subject, harry,” clint tuts, “i guess, bisexual would be accurate but i don’t care much for labels. i like whatever i like.” he shrugs. 

“i’m just trying to get to know you,” harry says, “you can ask me whatever you want in return.” 

“alright, but they’re gonna be hard hitters,” clint smirks, “what is your favourite movie?” 

“that’s your hard hitter?” harry laughs. clint frowns at him. “alright, alright. pretty woman.” 

“of course it is,” clint chuckles, shaking his head, “lemme guess, you see yourself in edward and you’re waiting on a woman, unlike yourself, to waltz into your life and change you… and you change her. then you live happily ever after or something. sound right?” 

harry smile falters. clint’s correct. not that he’s surprised, harry has never been the kind of man easy at hiding his heart. but for a complete stranger to pick him apart like that, almost callously, is unnerving. 

“uh, yeah,” he nods, taking a deep sip of his beer. clint chuckles, placing a hand on harry’s shoulder. 

“ease up, kid,” he smiles, “i’m just teasing you. fun trick i like to do with people when they tell me their favourite movie.” harry sighs, looking at clint over his beer.

“you keep calling me kid,” he says, “we’re like the same age.”

“how old are you?”

“45.”

“60,” clint says proudly, “so i can call you kid.” 

“you’ve aged well,” harry says, “i hope i can look that good at your age.” 

“that your attempt at flirting?” clint chuckles, “‘cause i’ll have you know i’m not that easy.” 

harry rolls his eyes as clint smirks through a sip of beer. he has to admit, the old man is charming. the thoughts from before, the thoughts of the rough lines of clint’s face, how beautiful they are next to the gentle softness of his eyes, come back to harry. this time he doesn’t push them away. he lets them stew as he lets his eyes trace ever inch of clint’s face. 

before he can stop himself, he’s opening his mouth. 

“you wanna come back to my place?” harry blurts, “i–it’s not that far from here. we could drink something stronger than this for free there.” he has a tentative smile on his lips, trying not to retract his words and tell clint to forget about it. 

“sure,” clint shrugs, a look of confusion on his face, “as long as i choose what we’re drinking.”

“deal,” harry says, unable to stop a smile breaking out on his face, “i’ll drive.”

♡♡♡♡

“this is my humble abode,” harry smiles, opening the door and leading clint into his apartment. clint is silent, taking in the opulence of the aforementioned “humble abode.” the apartment is massive, harry’s kitchen alone is the size of clint’s living room. 

“humble?” he chuckles nervously, “i’d hate to see what you think is over the top.” harry’s smile falters as he is once again reminded of the stark class difference between the pair. 

“yeah– sorry, it’s a bit excessive, i know,” harry mutters, a lilt of shame in his voice, “we should’ve gone to your place instead.” clint shakes his head, wandering into the lounge and slumping down on the couch. 

“nah,” he says casually, turning his head to face harry, “i wanna drink your booze.” there’s a small smirk on his lips at the strange but intentional innuendo that makes harry’s heart skip a beat. he’s so used to being the one in control, naturally assuming that position as the man in the relationship. but with clint here he feels himself slipping into a soft submissiveness. 

with his bottom lip between his teeth, he hurries into the kitchen, grabbing his finest tequila bottle. he doesn’t bother with glasses, simply heading back over to join clint on the couch. 

“we don’t need glasses right?” harry smiles sheepishly, “we’re both men.” clint chuckles, nodding and taking the bottle from harry. he unscrews the cap and takes a deep swig, keeping eye contact with harry. 

“nah,” he smirks, his eyes flicking down to harry’s lips, “open up.” without thinking, harry’s jaw goes slack. clint brings his calloused hand up, placing his thumb on harry’s lip, hooking his pointer under his chin. he tilts harry’s head back and opens his mouth up wider. he pours the tequila down harry’s throat, smiling as he watches harry’s eyes water from the burn. “good boy.”

harry chokes on the tequila and clint finally stops pouring it down his throat. he leans over the couch as drops of tequila hit his pristine carpet. clint laughs, giving harry a firm pat on the back.

“you just made me spit tequila on my rug,” harry croaks, rubbing his throat, “you know how much that cost?” clint raises an eyebrow and that says all harry needs to know. “right.” 

he sits back on the couch, melting into the plush cushions. he glances over at clint, who’s chugging back more alcohol, and grimaces. 

“how can you drink so much of that stuff?” he groans, “that shit burns.” 

“used to it,” clint shrugs, finally putting the cap back on the tequila. 

“i would be more upset about you using me for my booze, if…” harry mutters, trailing off as he drops his head onto the back of the couch. 

“if what?” clint asks, leaning back to mirror harry, “spit it out, rich boy.” harry lets out a breathy chuckle. the tequila is starting to hit him. his mind is feeling fuzzy, any distractions that usually linger in his mind disappearing completely as it singles in on one feeling. 

desire. 

“if i didn’t really wanna fuck you, right now,” harry whispers. 

“what happened to being straight?” clint smirks, sitting up. harry shrugs, his eyes following clint. 

“you, i guess.” clint looks at the glazed over look in harry’s eyes. it’s not just a look of drunkenness but a look of lust. 

“you sure you’re sober enough to be saying that, kid?” clint’s a lot of things but he swears on his wife’s grave he’d never take advantage of another person, not like that. 

“i don’t know,” harry shrugs, “kiss me and we’ll find out.” tentatively, clint leans in, pressing a soft closed kiss to harry’s lips. his lips taste like tequila and lip balm. 

clint pulls back to look harry in the eyes, checking on harry. “what’s the answer?”

harry doesn’t respond, simply curling his arms round clint’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss. it’s sloppy this time, lips ajar, tongues slip past one another through panted breaths. 

they move, harry laying back, clint’s weight bearing down. stomachs rub as teeth gnash, as beards scratch and cocks ache. one buck of harry’s hips has clint moaning. 

“i want to be inside you,” clint pants against harry’s lips, “please?” harry’s pupils are blown wide and his eyebrows are tented. he can hardly utter a word, only a needy whimper slipping past his lips.

“fuck.” 

clint’s hands hurry to unbuckle his jeans and then harry’s. with quick pulls, clint’s cock is out and harry’s ass is bare on display. he rubs the head of his cock against harry’s hole, letting out deep groans of pleasure as the tip notches on it.

“fuck, harry,” clint pants, trying his hardest not to thrust in, “i’ll take it slow for ya.” harry nods, his hands scrambling to hold onto clint’s broad shoulders. clint slowly pushes in, keeping an eye on harry’s face the whole time. as harry winces, clint stops still.

“you okay?” he asks, softly caressing harry’s thighs. harry nods.

“ngh– keep going,” he whines, “it only hurts a little.”

“are you sure, we can st–”

“don’t you dare,” harry grunts, bucking his hips to coax clint’s cock deeper inside him. clint moans, nearly collapsing onto harry from the sudden jolt of pleasure. 

he hasn’t had sex in a very long time, grieving his wife and looking after his daughter never left him much time for himself. so being inside harry now, is like heaven. 

he leans down, taking harry in his arms as he starts to thrust into harry slowly. each roll of his hips has both of the moaning like pornstars. clint would feel embarrassed if it wasn’t clear how badly harry needs him. 

“fuck– ngh,” harry whimpers, rolling his hips up to meet clint’s, “n–need you…t–touch me.” his nails dig into clint’s back as he pulls clint’s face into his neck. his hard cock pressing up against clint’s chubby belly, begging to be touched. 

“yes sir,” clint groans, attaching his lips to harry’s neck as he slips one hand down to harry’s cock. hearing the breathy moan that harry lets out as clint strokes his cock spurs clint on. he nips at harry’s neck as he jerks him off in time with his thrusts. 

“shit– call me sir again,” harry mumbles, gripping at clint’s hair. clint moans, fucking into harry harder. 

“of course, sir,” clint whimpers, “i want you to cum for me, sir.” 

“oh– fuck,” harry moans, his hips bucking. he clutches to harry harder, his nails breaking skin as he cums hard in clint’s hand. “nghh– fuck.”

harry clenches round clint’s cock, making him moan into his neck. clint bites into harry’s neck as he thrusts harder into harry’s tight hole. he can feel his orgasm approaching as he fucks harry’s blissed out body. 

“so good, sir,” clint whines, “c–can i cum inside you?” harry’s eyes roll back and he swears he sees god when clint whines for his permission. 

“yes! fuck, yes!” harry moans, “please!” 

that’s all clint needs before he’s snapping his hips forwards for the last time, filling harry’s hole up with his seed. clint groans and collapses on top of harry, a sweaty satisfied mess. the pair lay there panting for a moment before clint pulls out and rolls off of harry. 

“sorry for crushing you like that,” clint mutters, “i…haven’t done this in awhile.” 

“you could’ve fooled me,” harry chuckles, “that was…really fucking good.” 

“really?” clint asks, sitting up to tuck himself back into his pants. 

“really,” harry smiles, moving his hand down to scoop up clint’s cum that’s leaking out his ass, “could you pass me a tissue?” clint nods, grabbing tissues of the coffee table and gently wiping up the mess him and harry left. 

“for such a gruff looking man, you’re so gentle,” harry says softly, watching with adoration as clint wipes him clean.

“it took a lot hurt to get this gentle,” clint sighs, standing up to put the tissues in the him, “but i wouldn’t change anything. i prefer being gentle.” he walks back over to the couch, sitting down and pulling harry into his arms.

“you good?” clint mutters, pressing a kiss to harry’s temple. 

“yeah,” harry whispers, nodding as he snuggles closer into clint’s body, “i enjoyed that. maybe i’m not as straight as i thought.” clint chuckles, hugging harry tighter.

“you don’t have to have things figured out,” he says, combing a hand through harry’s hair, “just be you, harry.” 

“you’re too sweet, clint, like a big teddy bear,” harry chuckles, squeezing clint’s soft stomach, “shit– i have to tell lucy she was right– you are the perfect match.” clint’s heart swells as his cheeks warm. 

“you…harry,” clint mutters, “fuck– you’re adorable, kid.” harry chuckles, leaning up to kiss clint’s lips, flustering the older man further. 

“and you’re fucking beautiful,” harry whispers against clint’s lips, nuzzling his nose against clint’s, “now shut up and kiss me.” clint smirks. 

“yes sir.”

♡♡♡♡

“oh fuck, marcus! just like that– fuck, you’re so good.”

the needy whines and moans of general acacius’ latest obsession could be heard throughout his chambers. no one dares tell them to be quiet, nor speak of what they hear, lest they face public execution. acacius takes his private life very seriously. 

after his separation from lucilla and his retirement, acacius had become lost in a world of hedonism, rotating concubines every few days. until he met you. 

he is still indulging in gratuitous consumption of sex and alcohol, but it is only with you. it’s the closest he’s come to monogamy since his divorce. acacius claims there is nothing special about you, that you are simply there to serve him and nothing more, but it’s clear he’s lying. the only difference between you and the other concubines is that you’re a man. that fact of which acacius finds hard to grapple with.

it’s not like homosexual, or even bisexual, practices are uncommon in rome, quite the opposite. it is simply that most men in rome would keep a male concubine before taking a wife, not the other way round. it did not help his feelings that you were nothing close to the puer that his peers had. in the closest sense that a slave could get, you were a vir– never truly in title, but when he looked at you, that was what he saw. the true nail in acacius’ coffin of self loathing is that he craves something from you that he knows he shouldn’t. he craves to be penetrated. 

with one large hand suffocating your face in his mattress, acacius uses the other to slap your ass. you cry out into the bed sheet, the glorious silk drowning your moans. as his cock impales your hole, you can hear him grunting and feel his hips snapping in that rhythm they do when he’s getting closer. you clench around his cock, pushing back to meet his thrusts. this was your job, to make him feel good, and hell if you weren’t gonna do it. 

acacius grip’s your hair, wrenching you back against his body with one painful tug. his other arm wraps around your waist, the thick expanse of it crushing the air out of your lungs. as he ruts into you, you feel the soft press of his strong chubby stomach rub against your back. 

now comes the best part; he finally touches your cock. the way he works you up during foreplay and the actual sex always leaves your cock aching for his touch. despite how frustrating his no touching rule is, you can’t deny how good it feels when he wraps his calloused palm around your cock, bringing you to your much needed release. 

“nghh– fuck– fuck, marcus!” you moan as your load shoots from your cock, spilling over the mattress. pulling you suffocatingly tight to him, he grunts in your ear once last time before you feel his cock twitch and the warmth of his seed filling you up. he holds you there, bucking forwards a few more times before pulling out and dropping you down onto his soft bed. as you flop you feel the steady flow of his cum pour out of your hole. acacius cums a lot for a man of his age, never failing to swell your stomach.  

you barely have time to relax, acacius scoops you up into his arms. has now donned his bathing robe and carries you to his private baths. although you’re naked, there is no fear of being exposed to the eyes of others. acacius keeps you tucked close to him, hiding your most intimate parts from others, and he sports a glare that lets everyone know that if they so much as look at you, they will regret it.

regardless of how acacius feels, no matter whether he’s stewing in his self loathing or having one of his better days, he always takes you to his private baths after sex. more often than not, he simply washes you in a tranquil silence, only the sound of the water splashing gently.

once he lowers you into the bath, he disrobes and slips in next to you. his body is beautiful in this soft, domestic scene between you. in the bedroom, acacius’ body is one of dominance and sex. in the battlefield, it was one of cruelty and violence. but in the baths, you could recognise his body for what it is; the body of a tired old man, a man that has seen too much and simply desires peace, but fears he’ll never know it. his muscle from his army days are still prominent but there’s a heavy layer of fat that now covers it. proof of his indulgence in his retirement, proof that his body is finally getting its much needed rest. 

as he spreads his legs, his tummy drooping in the middle, he pulls you over to sit snugly in his lap. he presses a kiss to your temple and gently rubs your back.

“i would like to apologise,” acacius mutters, making your ears twitch, “and i would like to talk.” he never talked during bathing time and he certainly never wanted to talk about anything either. 

“okay,” you say, a confused lilt in your tone, “for what? about what?” 

“firstly, for my behaviour,” he sighs, “i do not treat you as well as i should.” he cups your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek. “i wallow in grief and loathing, forgetting it is you that is bearing the burden of my moods. for that, i apologise.” 

“oh, marcus,” you sigh, placing your hands on his soft chest, “you do not have to apologise. i am here to serve you, regardless of your mood.” he shakes his head.

“slave or not, it is no way to treat a lover,” acacius grumbles. he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking. “secondly, about… us– this.”

“what about us?”

“i have been…struggling,” acacius sighs, “this is not easy for me. i know that keeping puer is normal– many do it. that is not my concern. it is that i lay with you in the wake of my marriage, not before her. i feel like i am doing this backwards, that i am wrong for that.” 

“marcus, my darling,” you slide your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck, softly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “do not feel shame for that. your divorce was not your fault and you deserve to have pleasure and company now that you are without her. it is unconventional but it is not wrong. do not think like that.” he sighs, looking away from you.

“you are wrong. the divorce was my fault,” he mutters, “i could not love her any longer. i desired to keep puer more than my wife, for that, i feel deep shame.”

“marcus–”

“but it is not just that,” he finally looks back at you, the shame ripe in his soft brown eyes, “i desire from you, something i should not. i… desire for you to penetrate me.” 

“oh,” you pause, letting his words wash over you. sex with concubines is very acceptable for nobility, for men, but only if they’re penetrated. being penetrated is the highest carnal disgrace, it demoted your manhood, stripped you of it. 

“listen to me, marcus,” you take his face in your hands, “you are perfect. your desires are not wrong– fuck what the rest of rome thinks, when have you ever cared about their opinions? you know what is right and what is wrong, and wanting to feel pleasure in that way, is not wrong. i love you, marcus– i know i shouldn’t but i do– and if you want me to do that for you, i will.” 

acacius pulls you in tight, hugging you as if you might disappear, leaving him alone again. 

“i do not deserve you,” he whispers, “but i will spend every day trying to. i… i love you too.” he pulls back, just enough to kiss you, pouring his love, loathing, and gratefulness into it. he slips a hand down your back, curling it under your ass, pulling your crotch flush against his own. 

“would you like to try it now?” he whispers against your lips, his voice already husky with lust once more. you nod, your tongue lapping against his lips. 

“yes, i would love to, marcus.”

♡♡♡♡

open me up, tell me you like it / fuck me to death, 

i trudge through the dirt, only in my vans, no socks, as i hug my sides in the cool night air, walking over to javier’s office, tucked away next to the barn. there’s a warm yellow light that streams across blades of grass, meeting my feet and then my legs. when it hits my eyes, i turn the door handle and step into the full light of the office. 

javier turns in his chair, offering me a small smile and his tired eyes. his smile wavers and my bottom lip quivers. 

“amor,” he whispers softly, holding his arms out for me. i tread forwards, slipping down into his lap. i press my cheek to his and shut my eyes, letting my fingers curl into his shirt. “¿qué necesitas?” 

his voice never peaks above a whisper, but there’s a fear i hear every time i crawl into his lap. i lean back and cup his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. my tongue slips out and his lips part, letting me inside. his hands drop to my zipper, popping the button of my jeans and pulling them down. as our tongues run along each other’s, his fingers hook into my boxers and i’m bare. his hands engulf my asscheeks, hiking me up and laying me back on his desk, splayed out for him. 

i look up at him, arching my back, hard cock leaking for him, hole aching for him, and eyes saying everything he needs to hear. he undoes his jeans and i watch, transfixed, as he pulls his cock out, throbbing just for me. with a quick spit into his palm, he coats the head of his cock and presses a finger inside me.

“llévame, javi,” i whine, as he curls his finger, “ahora.” javier nods, removing his finger and replacing it with his cock. the head stretches me wide, a pain i’m far familiar with by now. it slips inside, inch after inch filling me up like it was meant to be there. the soft rub against my prostate as he bottoms out makes any pain from the stretch more than worth it.

“mierda,” javier pants, dropping his head down to rest on my chest, “eres mío, todo de tu cuerpo y tu alma.” the words he mutters, he mutters every time, knowing what i need to hear. 

“para siempre, dulce javier,” i whisper, holding his arms. he presses up, steadying his hands on the desk, pulling his hips back and my eyes shut once again. he snaps his forwards and starts his pace inside me. it’s hard and deep— the way i like it. 

my head presses against the wood as my mouth falls open and javier’s cock rams itself inside me. he grabs my hips, pulling me down on his cock, making me take him harder and deeper each time. 

“te quiero, amor,” javier moans, his face twisting into a look of pleasure and desperation. i bring my legs up to wrap around his waist, holding him closer to me.

“te quiero también, mi vida,” i whine, as he hits my prostate. javier smiles and continues to hit that spot. every ounce pain in my mind melts away with each thrust, each nudge of his cock against the part of me that was made for him to touch. my eyes roll back and my cock twitches, “oh, javier.”

“sí, amor,” javier nods, hissing as he feels me clenching around him, “i got you. let go, i’m right here.” he leans down, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing me hard. our tongues quickly find each other again and he snaps his hips against my ass harder. i grip his hair, pushing my hips down as his buck forwards, feeling the pressure build and snap.

“javi— javier!” i cry out, cum shooting from my cock, across my stomach as javier’s cock brings me to orgasm. javier nips at my bottom lip as i moan. he leans his forehead on mine, our noses squishing together as a moan catches in his throat and he cums hard inside me. 

“ay mierda,” javier groans, kissing across my lips, each corner and then back to the centre. our tongues lock again. the soft slide of him against me, the press of our skin together, and the warmth of his in me and mine between us brings these moments together. 

javier rests on me for a moment before pulling me up off the desk and sitting us both down in his chair. he runs a hand through my hair, bringing my head into his neck, just holding me close before placing a kiss to my forehead. “feel any better?”

i nod, looking up at him, kissing his jaw, “gracias. you always make it better.” javier beams down at me. 

“i swear times you’re just humoring me,” he chuckles, “i’m sure i can’t fuck as well as i did when we first met.” i snort and swat his chest.

“don’t even, “ i roll my eyes, “you always fuck me just the way i need it.” 

“alright, cariño,” he kisses me, “i believe you.” i wrap my arms around his neck, keeping my face pressed close to his. “we should check on the kids.” i shake my head, hugging him tighter, making him laugh. “alright, ten minutes.” i nod and he rubs my back, letting me relax into him, letting me feel safe.

love me until I love myself

lucien tips more wine down his throat. it’s cheap shit, sparkling wine that burns his throat as he chugs it. he can’t even taste it as it grates its way down to his gut. a deep regret sits down there with the ever increasing volume of alcohol; regret for stealing such shitty wine, regret for causing a scene, regret for doing what he always does. 

it’s only day five on set and he’s already halted production because he came in so drunk he could hardly remember his lines. the director had yelled at him and told everyone to take a break, making lucien go sober up. he stormed off with no intention of sobering up. his guilt and shame was too much for him to not immediately grab another bottle. he tucked himself behind a bush to drink down his shame. 

tears prick his eyes as he finishes the bottle. staring into the empty glass bottle he sees his drunken face stares back at him. on instinct, he biffs the bottle away from him, it hitting concrete and shattering. 

you hear glass breaking and turn around, seeing the remains of the wine bottle splay out across the footpath. catching a glimpse of lucien’s bright silk shirt, you run round the bush and find lucien, curled in on himself, beyond drunk and crying. as soon as he sees you, he turns away, covering his red, tearful eyes.

“go away,” he mutters, wiping his face. ignoring him, you crouch down, resting a hand on his shoulder. he flinches.

“hey, it’s alright,” you say softly, “what happened? are you okay?” he scoffs and shakes his head.

“can’t keep myself out of a fucking bottle,” he croaks, “i’m fucking everything up— the movie’s gonna be ruined, my career’s going in the shitter, and i’m gonna be forced back into rehab.” he stumbles over his words, the crease in his brow deepening. you cup his face, sitting down in front of him.

“no, don’t think like that. you’re not fucking up everything,” you say softly, brushing extra tears away, “you’re struggling right now and any half decent person can see that. you won’t lose your job and the movie is gonna be just fine.” 

“it won’t be if i don’t stop drinking— and i just can’t,” he groans, his voice ripe with self hatred. you sigh, wrapping your arms around him. he freezes at first, finding the hug unexpected but not unwanted. he tentatively returns the gesture.

“we’ll get you some help,” you whisper, “but i believe you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” lucien gives you a half hearted grunt as an acknowledgment and you pull back to look him in the eyes, “i meant it.” he smiles weakly.

“thanks,” he mutters, feeling ashamed of the state he’s in.

“no need to thank me,” you press a soft kiss to his forehead, “i love you.” he looks up at you, your noses brushing together.

dieter’s been waiting for this day for a long time. you two have been dating for a while now and most of the time during sex, you naturally fall into a dominant position and dieter into a submissive one. despite his submissiveness, dieter is often on top, which both of you enjoy. he’s not always the most skilled lover but he sure has the spirit; you’ve never been fucked so thoroughly for so long before you met him. 

but today is for dieter. despite both of you being queer, dieter claimed pride month was his month. you had laughed at him the first time he’d said it but you entertained it for him. a part of that entertainment has landed you agree to fulfill one of dieter’s fantasies. as much as he loves being on top, he craves being able to dominate you while you fuck him; his “ultimate power bottom fantasy,” as he put it. you never saw dieter as a dominant kind of person, so his initial suggestion was a bit of a shock to you. 

“you sure you can dom, baby?” you asked, as he sat before with a cheeky grin on his face. he nods eagerly. 

“very sure,” he smirks, “you don't know how bad i want this. but you’ll find out next month.” he had winked at you and refused to continue the conversation, wanting to keep everything a secret. 

but it’s kind of hard for dieter to keep secrets. especially when he’s moaning so loud you can hear him on the other side of the apartment. 

this was dieter’s favourite part of bottoming, the preparation. yes, you have the gross part of douching but dieter's never been that squeamish. it's the part where he gets to fuck himself silly on his lubed up fingers that he truly loves. 

feeling his thick fingers, slick with lube, fucking his hole and curling against his prostate makes him moan like a goddamn pornstar. he swears it's almost as good as when you dick him down. almost. 

he goes to reach for the dildo in his bedside table but stops himself. as much as he craves to feel the stretch, to fill himself to the brim, he only wants you today. he wants to feel your cock filling him up, your cock stretching him open, splitting him in two. he wants you.

with his neglected cock twitching and leaking against his stomach, he slowly pulls his fingers out of his hole, it trying to suck them back in. they come out with a lewd squelch and a pop. dieter’s hole clenches around nothing, desperate to be filled again, as he brings his fingers up to see them dripping in lube. his eyes flutter as a moan leaves his lips and he shoves his fingers in his mouth, tasting himself mixed in with the lube. he wraps his tongue around his sticky fingers, licking them clean as his hole twitches. he’s waited long enough.

“¡amor! it’s time!” dieter calls out in a sing-song tone, “come fuck me!” this is what you get for dating an actor such as dieter. 

when you enter the bedroom, the chub you’d been nursing in anticipation immediately grows. dieter is on his hands and knees, fucked out and dripping hole on crude display for you and his cock, head purple with need, hanging below with his heavy balls drawn up tight. between his thick thighs you can see the soft swell of chubby belly. his head is pressed into the pillows, turned to flash his pouty puppy dog eyes at you. 

“fuck,” you groan, throwing your shirt off and hurrying forwards as you drop your pants. you reach the edge of the best, stark naked and hard as a rock. your hands immediately grab dieter’s ass, kneading the soft flesh before burying your face in his hole. your nose notches over his hole and then your tongue dips inside. as soon as the muscle slips inside his hole, curling against his walls, was when his damn of silence broke.

“oh fuck, that’s so good, amor,” dieter moans, fucking himself back against your tongue, “more! more!” you groan as he pushes his weight back against your face, his soft ass cheeks smothering you. pulling back you smack him on the ass. that only encourages him. “fuck– spank me, daddy.” 

you roll your eyes as he chuckles, hopping onto the bed next to him. “i thought you were supposed to be the dominant here?” 

“oh, i am, amor,” he smirks, sitting up and grabbing you by the hips. he picks you up and throws you down on the bed, you head landing against the plush pillows. “i’ve been working out so i could do that.”

“yeah, right,” you scoff at his shit eating grin. 

“i so have,” dieter says, feigning hurt, “i’ll show you, it’s all in the legs.” with a wink, he positions himself over your cock, crouching to grind against it. he doesn’t put it in yet, bracing himself on your chest as he rolls his hips, letting your cock slide between his slick ass cheeks. you can see the muscles in his thighs flex as he moves. the glide of the lube and the pressure on your cock is enough to make you go dumb but the sight of dieter’s hips rolling, the way his love handles bunch atop them, has you transfixed. 

“like what ya see, hermoso?” dieter smirks, lifting his hips off of your cock and biting his lip, “ya wanna fuck me, hmm?” he lets out a soft moan as he grips the back of his ass, pushing it up to show off his love handles even more, just how you like it. 

the show he’s putting on for you makes your mind slip. you go to grab your cock but dieter slaps your hand away, chuckling as your dazed eyes follow the flow of your hand as if it were not yours. 

“aww, mi vida is gone,” he leans down to whisper against your lips, “lemme bring you back.” he takes your cock in his hand, lining it up and sinking down to the base with ease. moans rip from both of you, your heads lolling back in unison as you grab dieter’s thighs to ground yourself. he lets out a whine as your nails dig into his skin.

“easy, baby,” he coos, taking your hands in his as he starts to move, “oh, i love your big fucking cock– feel so full.” 

dieter presses your hands to your chest and winks at you. he starts to move his hips, pulling himself up until only the tip is left inside him, again and again. each time, his hole squeezes your cock and then it’s rammed hard against his prostate. you’re barely aware of anything besides the pleasure and the movement of dieter’s body. you forgot how good it feels to be inside him. 

“you thought i couldn’t dom?” dieter laughs, rolling his hips, “i barely did anything and you’re already gone dumb for me.” 

“fuck– dieter,” you moan, clenching your eyes shut as you tense. you can feel yourself getting close, embarrassingly fast. 

“no,” he says firmly, dropping his hips and stopping his movements, “you’re not cumming yet. i still wanna do doggy.” he giggles, smiling with delight as he watches your pained expression. he hops off your cock, crouching down beside you, sticking his ass up high and giving it an enticing wiggle. “come take what you want, big boy.”

he smacks his ass, his hole winking at you, drawing you back in as you sit up. on your knees, you line yourself back up with him. as soon as you slip the head of your cock inside, dieter thrusts his hips back, burying you in him to the hilt. you have no time to start your own thrusts before dieter has taken control again. he fucks himself back into you, setting a rough and greedy pace. 

“fuck i love this cock so much,” dieter moans, his fist balling in the sheets as he slams back against you harder, “so fuckin’ big– splits me right open– shit, amor, your cock hits all the right places. my dildos don’t have shit on you.” 

“dieter,” you whimper, leaning over his back, grabbing hold of his tummy as you will your legs not to give out. the feeling of dieter round your cock, the tight wet pressure, the strength of his thrusts and how’s using your cock like it’s a toy for his pleasure are all too much. 

“¿sí, mi amor?” he grins, looking over his shoulder to see your glazed and pleading eyes, “does mi vida wanna cum?” you groans, nodding your head. “well, then you better make me cum first.” 

the idea of putting off your orgasm any longer sounds like agony but the desire to please dieter is stronger. you wrap your hand around his cock, feeling it twitch from the pleasure of finally being touch.

“just like that,” dieter whines, bucking his hips to push your cock deeper and hand faster, “keep going– so good– more!” you tighten your grip on his cock, jerking him off quicker, knowing he’s getting close from how much louder he’s moaning. with a broken cry, he shoots his thick load into your hand. 

without missing a beat, dieter continues to fuck himself on your cock. “cum in me, baby,” he groans, his voice strained from his moaning, “you earned it.” you grip his plush ass, digging your nails into him as you snap your hips forwards one last time, cumming hard inside dieter. 

“fuck– dieter!” you moan, collapsing forwards, panting against his back. you pepper soft kisses to his sweaty shoulder blades. “that was…really good. you should dom more often.” 

dieter giggles but shakes his head. he pushes you back with his ass, making you flop back onto the bed, him following, crushing you with his weight as he lands on you. 

“ah! fuck, dieter!” you yelp, squeezing his waist as he chuckles and wiggles in your lap, “you could’ve just said no.” with a little smirk on his lips, he hops off your lap and cuddles into your side.

“yeah, but that was more fun,” he whispers, giving you a smile before pressing his lips to yours. 

“did you not enjoy domming?” you ask, running your hands through his hair. he shakes his head, leaning into your tough.

“i did,” he coos, wrapping his arms around you tight as snuggles into your side, “but i prefer it when you take control, when you hold me like this, y’know?” 

“i know,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head, “i prefer it too.” dieter pulls you in for another kiss.

“thank you though,” he mutters, “i’ve always wanted to try that. it was wonderful.” 

“of course, sweetheart,” you kiss him on the bridge of his aquiline nose, holding him close, letting him drift off in your arms.

♡♡♡♡

oberyn martell, your father had been gone for a few days now. it was a quick trip to the coast with his paramour, your mother, ellaria sand. he would be back today. his trip away had made you anxious, not because you were afraid your father could not handle himself, quite the opposite. you had promised yourself that upon his return, you would finally tell him what you’ve been hiding for so long. 

your secret is not a bad one by any means, it’s unorthodox in these parts, but it is not bad. you are hopeful that your father will understand. despite being a prince, your father is anything but orthodox. he is frowned upon throughout westeros for his unorthodox sexual behaviour, so surely he would be accepting of yours, or the lack thereof.

you sit, waiting, at the docks, your foot twitching nervously, clipping the wood of the dock. as oberyn’s boat comes to dock you jump to your feet, sprinting towards it. the sounds of your footsteps alert oberyn, a smile breaking on his face as he sees your eager approach. 

“father!” you yell as he steps onto the dock. he opens his arms and you throw yourself into them. as his strong arms wrap around you, you feel at home again, pressed against the soft fabrics of his robe and the warmth of his skin. 

“you are eager to see me, my darling daughter?” oberyn chuckles, running a hand through your hair. you nod against his chest, turning your head to look up at him. 

“yes, father,” you say, your smile flattering slightly, “i have something i need to tell you. not here. may we talk in the garden?” oberyn notices your smile flatter and hugs you tighter.

“certainly,” he nods, his body stiffening slightly, “are you hurt? is there something wrong?” 

“no- no, there is nothing wrong,” you say, pulling away from the hug, following your father as he takes your hand in his, “i am safe. there is simply something i wish to tell you about myself. i have done some introspection recently.” 

oberyn’s muscles relax at the knowledge his daughter is well. he nods, quickening his pace towards the gardens. he has to admit he’s curious. it’s not often his daughters have something to tell him of an introspective nature. they typically go to their mother. not because he’s not understanding of daughters, frankly he’s the only man that has ever understood them, but because the topics were ones better handled by a woman, someone who has had similar experiences. so for one of his daughters to want to talk to him in this way is deeply touching.

as they enter the garden, they are surrounded by the sweet aroma of dornish flowers. oberyn has always loved the smell, distinctly unique to dorne and simply unmatched by the flowers of any other region. he assumes it is the type of weather they get. he picks one of the flowers, brushing back your hair to slip it behind your ear.

oberyn leads you to a small secluded section of the garden with a bench hidden by over hanging trees. he helps you sit and takes his place next to you, holding your hands gently in his own. he looks down at you with a soft smile, imploring you to start.

“what is on your mind, my dear?” he whispers. you look away from him for a moment, taking a deep breath before starting. 

“you find beauty- carnal beauty- in the many, yes, father?” oberyn’s brow furrows in confusion but he nods.

“the gods made man and woman, and they please me both. that is true.”

“i do not know how to call it,” you say, “but neither please me.” oberyn’s eyebrows raise, trying to understand exactly what you’re saying.

“neither? are you certain?” he asks, doubting your words, “you are still young, my dear. with time you will find yourself pleased. do not compare yourself to me, i am unique even among those my age.” 

“it is not just because i am young, father,” you say, your voice taking on a slight pleading tone, “i am certain i retain no desire for either. i have had love for others and i have had admiration for beauty, yet i have never had lust. i do not desire to have others carnally.” 

oberyn frowns, letting go of your hands, turning away. he stares out at the garden for a moment, hands clasped as he tries to understand. 

“but only eunuchs feel that way,” oberyn finally says, turning back to you, “i have never allowed anything remotely similar to be done to any of my daughters.” 

“father, this is not because of something you or others have done,” you say, placing a hand on his arm, “i believe it is natural. i believe i was born without the desire to be with other people that way.” 

“do you not have desire in and of itself?” oberyn asks, “do you not have the desire to feel such pleasure or even fornicate with the sole intention of having children?” 

“i do desire but it is not for anyone,” you admit, “i do not want to be with anyone, however i do experience such urges.”

oberyn nods, taking your hands in his again. as he takes a deep breath, you can see his mind turning behind his eyes. he’s starting to understand, at least on a basic level.

“so you experience desire but just not for other people?” he asks, trying to see if he’s getting it correct, “you do not want or desire to lie with another person, ever?” you nod.

“yes,” you smile, “i have desire but i do not desire others.”

“i will not pretend to know your experience or understand it at all,” he sighs, “but i love you, my dear. if you do not desire others, then you do not. you have no obligation to do so. i love you, and all your sisters, regardless of who you do or do not want. that will never change.” oberyn pulls you in for a hug, holding you tight to his chest. 

“thank you, father,” you say, hugging him even tighter than he is. you knew your father was an understanding man, but you thought that this stark difference between you would be something that forced your bond weaker, not stronger.

“no, my dear,” oberyn whispers, placing a kiss to the top of your head, “thank you. thank you for trusting me with all of you. i know this would not have been easy to tell me, due to my own nature, so thank you.” 

“you are welcome, father.”

“have you talked to your mother about this?”

“i wanted to tell you first. is that okay?”

“of course,” oberyn smiles, pulling back to cup your face, “would you like to tell her together?” you nod. oberyn makes you feel loved, not just with his words or gentle touches, but in the way he holds you in his eyes. you’re father has eyes softer than clouds that make anyone feel as if they are wrapped in the safety of their mother’s arms once again.

“i love you, more than you could ever know, my dear.”

“and i love you, father. more than you could ever know.”

♡♡♡♡

trekking through the forest moon alone has been hard. you haven’t found hardly anything and you’re getting tired. it hasn‘t just been the terrain or the lack of gems you’ve found that have been making this hard. it’s been the oppressive loneliness that seems to follow you round like a bad smell. it’s been eating at your morale. 

pushing through the dense greenery, you find another ship. it’s a little run down with the nature of the planet starting to crawl up and consume it. you approach it, trying to find the entrance. if you can’t leave this moon with gems you may as well raid some old ship for scraps. 

as you find the entrance and crack the door, you’re met with a pistol in the face. a man with a scruffy beard and a white streak in his hair is staring down at you behind his helmet.

“announce y’self, stranger,” the man grunts. you fumble over your words but eventually tell him your name.

“i thought this was abandoned,” you say, putting your hands up, “i didn’t mean to impose. i’m just looking for supplies. hit a dry spot recently.” the man nods, lowering his weapons.

“a’ight then,” he sticks his hand out to help you into the ship, “i probably got spare things ya could have. come on in.” 

he hauls you up and closes the ship door, unclipping his helmet. you do the same, watching the man mill about his ship for spare supplies. 

“‘m ezra by the way,” he smiles, chuckling you a sealed bag of food. he slumps down in the ship, grabbing some food for himself. you notice then, as he tears the seal with his mouth, that one of his arms is missing from the shoulder down. 

“if you don’t mind me asking,” you start, opening your own bag of food, “what happened there?” ezra looks down at his lack of right arm and chuckles.

“ay, jus’ a lil’ scratch,” ezra jokes, “a cut got infected. couldn’t save it.” he shrugs. “i make do without it.”

“must be tough,” you say, trying to make small talk with this man you just met. it’s a little strange to be invited to sit and eat with someone out here in this hostile environment. but it’s not unwelcome. 

“yeah, it’s too bad it was my shootin’ arm,” he mutters, “but at least it wasn’t my most useful hand.” he smirks, gesturing down to his crotch. you cough, choking a little on your food.

“wow, you’re very… open,” you chuckle awkwardly. 

“yeah, my apologies, little bird,” ezra chuckles, running his hand through his hair, “i ain’t been round others in… fuck– too long.” 

“it’s alright,” you shrug, “i haven’t been round people in awhile either.” his eyebrows raise slightly, his eyes flashing with something like hope. maybe it was the shared loneliness, his charming southern accent, or that cute dyed patch in his hair, but something is drawing you to him. inside and outside. but mainly on the inside. 

he watches as your eyes trail from his face down the rest of his body. the space suit isn’t flattering but it’s still worth the stare. 

“like what ya see, handsome?” ezra smirks, sitting up with his elbow on his knee. there’s an undeniable charisma to this strange man. 

“maybe,” you shrug, a small smirk on your lips, “or maybe i just haven’t seen another person in awhile. ezra wets his lips and stands up. his fingers go to the zip on his suit.

“i could show ya something you probably ain’t ever seen,” he says, bravado in his voice, “if you’ll let me?” you scoff a little and lean back, discarding your food completely now. 

“not much i haven’t seen out here,” you say, fingers finding the zip of your own suit, “but go ahead. surprise me.” 

with your permission, ezra unzips the suit and lets it pool round his ankles. he steps out of the suit and pulls his undershirt off. he reveals an arm with soft muscle and pecs that have old scarring underneath them. when he moves to his pants, that’s the real show stopper. he undoes his pants and drops them with his underwear, leaving himself bare before you. between his legs, the cock you assumed would be there is instead replaced by a pussy, covered by an unshaved bush, from which his clit can be seen poking out. 

“well, fuck,” you chuckle as you lean forwards to get a closer look, “you’re right. i haven’t seen that before.” you quickly pull your suit and undershirt off, leaving yourself in your rapidly straining underwear. 

“take ‘em off,” ezra says firmly, walking to you. you immediately comply, pulling your underwear down and kicking the away. he steps either side your hips and kneels down. he takes your cock in his hand, stroking it slowly. he lowers himself down so his wet cunt presses against the shaft of your cock. he stops stroking you and lays your cock flat to your stomach. he kneels all the way down and starts to roll his hips, sliding your cock through the lips of his cunt. 

you let out a choked moan as he continues to hump your cock. the slide of ezra’s arousal mixed with the pressure of his weight on your hips feels so good. 

“ya like that, pretty bird?” ezra smirks, biting back his own moans. the way his clit rubs against your cock makes his long untouched cunt weep.

“oh fuck,” you groan, gripping ezra’s hips, “yes, keep doing that.” ezra continues to slide across your cock, both you getting close a lot faster than either you want. 

“shit,” ezra bites, lifting himself cunt off your cock with a groan, “i don’t know about you, but i was getting a little too close there. i wan’ this to go on at least a little bit longer.” he gives you a crooked smile, placing his hand beside your head as he leans in to kiss you softly.

“ya wanna put it in now, handsome?” ezra whispers against your lips. you nod and pull him back in for another kiss, letting your tongue dive into his mouth.

he lowers his hips and you press yours up, using one hand to angle your cock as you push in. the head of your slides in and you groan into ezra’s mouth. having his pussy grinding on you felt amazing, but to have it wrapped tight round your cock is a whole other thing. 

ezra pulls back from the kiss, sitting up with a smirk on his lips. grounding himself with his hand on the floor, he begins to roll his hips again. you grip onto ezra’s hips even harder than before, lost in the feeling of his cunt squeezing your cock.

“ya like it when i ride ya, cowboy?” he chuckles, a little breathless. you nod, letting a whimper slip past your lips. ezra laughs proudly at your whimper; even though it’s been a while, he can still reduce a man to nothing but whimpers. 

he moves his hand from the ground to your chest, brushing over one of your nipples before pinching it. a loud moan is pulled from your throat and your hips buck up into ezra. he whines softly as you hit deeper inside him. you take a hand off his hip and instead move it to his clit. ezra clenches round your cock as the ship echoes with both of your moans. 

“oh fuck yeah,” ezra groans, increasing his pace on your cock, “keep rubbin’ it– just like that.” the way his eyes close and his head lulls back to show the strong expanse of his neck, tells you he’s getting closer. 

ezra removes his hand from your nipple and places it over your hand, guiding you on exactly how to rub his clit. as you work in tandem with his guidance, you slowly bring him to orgasm. the way his mouth falls open, his cunt clenches, and a beautiful moan falls from his lips, you follow quickly after. you buck your hips and throw your head in a moan as you pump ezra’s cunt full of your cum. 

after a few more rolls of his hips, ezra slumps down on top of you, panting into your neck. slowly slipping off your cock, he rolls over next to you. as you feel your cum leak out of his hole, it hits you.

“shit, ezra,” you say, turning to face him, “can you get pregnant?” ezra frowns for a moment and taps his stomach. 

“i don’t get my period anymore, so he could be as barron as a wasteland,” ezra chuckles, looking down at his stomach, “but honestly, ‘m not quite sure. though i don’t think i’d mind if i could.” he looks back up at you, a longing lingering in his eyes. “it’s real lonely out here.” 

you move closer, wrapping your arms around ezra’s waist and holding him close. you tuck your head into his neck, his stubble tickling your nose. 

“yeah,” you whisper, “it is.” his hand comes up to tangle in the bottom of your hair.

“y’know,” he sighs, “ya could stay awhile– if you’d like. we could share supplies, help each other out… maybe feel a little less alone.” 

“i’d like that a lot.”

♡♡♡♡

max pops out of his office, wrapping his knuckles on the door to get your attention. when you look up he has his signature smirk plastered on his and he’s beckoning you forwards with the curl of his finger. 

you roll your eyes with a huff and stand up out of your desk chair. you gesture shooting yourself to your coworker tim, making him laugh, before trudging into max’s office. max is leaning against his desk as you enter.

“shut the door behind you,” he orders, smirking wider as you comply.

“what do you want, max?” you groan.

“i wanna have a little chat with my favourite employee,” he says, his voice thick with highly inappropriate flirtation, “is that so wrong?” he beckons you closer. you begrudgingly step closer to him. 

“maybe,” you mutter, arms crossed and posture ridged, “if you’re going to commit an HR violation.” max laughs, slapping a hand on your shoulder, his soft grip belying the strength he possesses. 

“HR rules are not the things i plan on violating today,” max chuckles, leaning forwards to brush his nose against your cheek, “sit down.” his voice is hushed, his breath on your ear sending a shiver down your spine. without your mind willing it, you’re moving on your own to sit in the chair in front of max’s desk.

“good boy,” max chuckles, clapping his hands together, “okay, so, would you like a promotion?” you frown at his use of “good boy” but just ignore it. 

“uh, yeah of course i would,” you say, as if the answer was obvious. 

“are you willing to work for it?” he smirks. your eyes narrow.

“i already do–”

“no, no, handsome,” max tuts, shaking his head, “are you willing to work for it… right now.” your eyes dart to max’s crotch and you finally get it.

“are you trying to fuck me?” max’s face drops at your question. 

“i really thought you were the smart one in this office,” max sighs, his voice flat with disappointment. 

“but i’m a guy,” you frown, “you fuck guys? but you were hitting on mandy yesterday.”

“why does it matter who else i wanna fuck?” max groans, “this was supposed to be easy. you’re overthinking things.” 

“easy? you think i’m easy?” you scoff, “wow. does that usually work on people?” you can see max slowly losing his mind. it’s a little cathartic after what a shitty boss he’s been.

“oh my– just shut the fuck up,” max drops to straddle your hips in the chair, his mouth on yours before you can even react. it’s a soft but desperate kiss. you can feel the warmth of his crotch against your stomach and your hands instinctively move to hold his hips. max quickly deepens the kiss, opening his mouth and pushing his tongue into yours. your tongue flicks out, gracing max’s teeth where you can feel his abnormally sharp canines. you tongue curls round one of them, feeling out the full length and sharpness of it. as it pricks your tongue, drawing blood, you let out a moan. 

“not easy my ass,” max chuckles against your lips. he moves from your mouth to drag his canines down your neck. he doesn’t bite you, simply scratching and licking at your neck. he laughs again as a breathy moan leaves your lips. 

“max,” you whisper, the feeling of him on top of you, touching and kissing you, melting you into submission. 

“yes, baby?” he asks, lifting his head to look you in the eyes, cupping your face, “what do you need?” 

“you,” you whine, gripping his hips, “please.”

“that’s more like it,” max smirks, hopping off your lap. he lifts you out of the chair as if you weigh nothing, setting you on the edge of his desk. he shoves his papers off his desk and lays you back, slotting himself between your legs. he grinds his crotch down into yours as he sucks and nips at your neck again, letting you feel the hard length of him. 

you hurriedly unbutton max’s slacks, taking his cock out and stroking it harder. with your other hand, you undo your own pants, max quickly taking over and pulling them off. you rub your thumb over the slit of his cock, feeling the sticky precum and making him moan. 

“fuck– please let me fuck you,” max groans, rubbing his cockhead against your hole, “i can’t enter unless you say i can.” you chuckle, reveling in the power you have over him right now. 

“always loved that about vampires,” you smirk, “i could just sit here and watch you squirm.” max’s hand shoots to your throat, not squeezing but it’s a clear threat. 

“c’mon, sweetheart,” max growls lowly, “please.” he smiles at you, flashing his fangs. 

“fine,” you roll your eyes. you want this as bad he does but teasing him was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, no matter how short lived. “come inside me, boss.”

with a grunt of satisfaction, max lifts your thighs to your chest and pushes his cock inside you all at once. 

“ah fuck!” you yell in pain before it quickly melts into pleasure as his cock hits your prostate, “max.” the stretch burns, he’s big and you’re unprepared, but it feels so good.

max just smirks, slamming his cock deeper into you, purely focused on his own pleasure. he presses hand to your lower stomach, groaning as he feels his own cock moving inside you. 

“oh fuck yeah, baby,” max chuckles, “i’m so deep in this tight little hole.” he leans down, sucking at your neck. his desk shakes as he fucks you, the office filled with the sound of wood creaking and your needy moans. 

he moves his mouth down to your collarbone, sucking on it gently before biting down hard. his fangs sink into your flesh, blood pouring out into his greedy mouth. 

“max,” you whine, your collarbone throbbing in pain, “wh–what’re you doing? that hurts– stop it.” 

max licks your wounds and brings his head back up to look at you, your blood staining his lips. 

“you want that promotion, don’t you?” you nod, feeling the blood pool in your collarbone. “then let me have a little drink. i’ll be quick, i promise.” he drops his head back, drinking up the blood flowing from you. you grip the back of his hair, holding on tight as you let him use your body to sate his hunger. 

despite the pain, your cock can’t help but throb at the feeling of max drinking your blood. the feel of his tongue lapping at your skin, the suck of your blood being drawn into his mouth, and the drag of his cock against your fluttering walls. 

“shit,” you moan, bucking your hips against max’s, “that actually feels good.” 

“it always does,” max smirks. he finishes drinking from you and kisses blood stains up your neck before kissing you again. as you flick your tongue out to get a feel of those fangs again, you’re met with the ripe metallic taste of your own blood. max slips his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. his cock hits your prostate at a new angle, making you break the kiss to let out a desperate moan.

“everyone in the office is gonna hear you,” max chuckles, “don’t stop. i want them to.” as max cock slides in and out of you, bringing you closer to your orgasm, you do as he says, moaning and whining for him.

“please– max,” you moan, pulling tight on his hair, “i’m gonna cum! i want you to cum in me– please!” max nods, his words taken from him as he moans against your lips. 

“cum for me, baby,” he grunts, holding himself back, wanting to feel you cum before he does. he presses you tight to him, your cock rubbing against his stomach. it’s enough to send you over the edge, cumming hard between your stomachs. max follows, spilling his thick load deep inside you. he fucks you through both your orgasms, milking his cock for all it has. 

with a soft groan, he pulls out, shoving his cock back into his slacks. he grabs some tissues, wiping your cum off your stomachs and his cum that’s leaking from your hole. 

“i think that was good enough for a promotion,” max says, chucking the tissues into the bin nonchalantly as you lay on the desk, panting with blood on your neck and cum staining your hole. 

“i deserve a fucking promotion after you just drank my goddamn blood,” you mutter, sitting up to pull your pants up. you touch the bite marks on your collarbone, wincing at the sting of pain it causes. 

“yeah, sorry about that,” max shrugs, clearly not sorry, “i was just hungry. want me to kiss it better?” he smirks, leaning in to kiss your neck, smelling the scent of your blood. 

“no, gross,” you mutter, pushing his face away. 

“don’t be like that,” max pouts, slipping a hand over yours, “lemme take you out, yeah?”

“seriously?” you scoff, “weren’t you trying to ask mandy out the other day too?”

“fucking hell,” max groans, rubbing his temple, “can you stop talking about mandy. i don’t give a fuck about who i have or haven’t asked out. i want you, you dense idiot. i flirt with mandy to make you jealous, okay? i want you. please.” you look into his eyes, seeing a rare sign of sincerity in his eyes. 

“jesus, max,” you sigh, “your way of trying to get a date with me was to fuck and bite me in your office? you’re a special one, y’know that?” you smile softly at max. he’s clearly not the emotional or romantic type, that’s why you never assumed he’d have any interest in you. 

“so…will you?” max asks, squeezing your hand softly, “i know a great restaurant that’s open late so i won’t get burnt.” 

“sure, why not?” you shrug. max smiles brightly, wrapping you in a tight hug.

“awesome,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “you should probably wash that blood off before we leave, though.” you kiss him and nod.

“how about your lick it off?” max’s eyes flash with hunger.

“you fucking tease.”

♡♡♡♡