#reader insert fanfic

“Get you hands off me, oh my god why are your fingers so cold? Your hands are usually warm! Stop it!” You bat at Cassie’s hands as she tries to get your temp. You had been practically lifted off your feet to get into the room in the first place. You had a shift in five minutes, and your friendly doctor McKay wasn’t letting you out until you had a clean bill of health. Her hands had already reached out to do the forehead and gentle hand temp check, and you were burning up. 

“Behave, don’t make me use the rectal thermometer, doctor.” The older, gorgeous doctor threatened, and she meant it. You were behaving worse than her son when he was ill. Harrison had texted his mother, warning her of your sick status. While Cassie had been worried, seeing you like that had her full blown over protective crazy mama vibes.

“It’s just a case of the spring flu,” you reason but your pushed back onto the bed. You don’t have the strength to fight her, had she been working out? 

The hospital lights offend you, making you squint up at the doctors form. Cassie takes your glasses off your nose and pockets them. You try to get them back but she’s faster, mad mom skills and all.

“Maybe, but I gave you your flu shot, though so I’m going to be thorough,” McKay tells you moving her stethoscope as Dana comes in with her little lamb. Emma's smile falters when she sees how pale you look.

“No, I don’t want to be a teaching hospital today.” You say rudely, and Dana narrows her eyes at you.

“Don’t listen to her, Doctors make the absolute worst patients. But as grumpy as she appears, she’s my favorite. So that’s why I came in to torture her.” Dana says, and Cassie squirms a little. And the charge nurse notices immediately.

“Dr. McKay?” Her eyebrows go up expecting.

You have such a high fever that you don’t understand or care about their silent argument. 

“I’ve got this, I think Robbie’s got a trauma comin' in.” She eyes the new nurse like that will be better for her. A nice bloody case for Emma. Not you, not while Cassie had you. No extra hands required. 

“Dr. McKay, is there a chart made up for our patient?” Dana makes her point clear, but Cassie still isn’t happy. The gentle threat doesn’t reach your tired frame. But to the other three women, it’s clear; If a chart is made, it’s not a personal call anymore. 

If anything, Dana could get Cassie off the case for her ‘personal feelings,’ but the nurse is more poking the soft butch to see how much of an ass she’s going to be.

“No,” you say just as the older doctor cringes and nods.

“Yes,” Cassie says on top of you. Her braid falling over her shoulder as her dark scrubs can’t hide the way her body tenses.

“Okay, let’s do some labs and see what color mucus you got kiddo,” Dana tells you and grabs the blanket, pulling it across your lap.

Your eyes drift, you can help it.

“I have rounds.” You say with your eyes already closed.

“You may present your own case if you would like,” Al-Hashimi states coming in and pressing her ID down on the scanner to see your chart.  Ignoring the rest of the room to find out what ails you.

Cassie hates this even more than Dana, way more. 

“I’ve got this covered, really, just some routine tests.” Doctor McKay is being possessive, and Al-Hashimi doesn’t back down.

They’d been doing this for the past five months, and it was getting to be a game of whose strap was bigger. 

Dana was over it, but you were ignorant to the butch brawl. 

Emma makes a scared face as her attention goes back and forth to the two women fighting about your chart. Even Dana waits on this one.

The children would get tired eventually, or she’d need to get a kiddie pool with mud for the two to work it out. 

Dana had her bets on Cassie, not because of the ankle monitor or the rough history. But not, not because of the ankle monitor, McKay just had this love for you. That the charge nurse was sure wouldn’t blow over anytime soon. 

Baran is the queen of passive-aggressive in these situations, though, and she easily calls ranks. 

“Then we’ll make sure to put a rush on them and find out, Dr. McKay, may I speak to you in the hall?” The senior attending requests even though it’s not a question. 

Cassie makes sure to leave with your glasses in her pocket; you wouldn’t be driving without them. 

“Of course Dcotor Al-Hashimi,” she says through her teeth. 

The two leave, and you miss how Cassie’s eyes linger in your shivering frame.

Dana ignores the fight in the hall and instead squeezes your knee comfortingly.

Voices raising and falling outside don’t matter; you did. 

Dana nods at Emma towards the computer, knowing she’d have better chance at bullying you into submission then the sweet young nurse. 

You yawn, and try to get warmer in the blankets. Sweat drips down your forehead and you really wish you had stayed home; the light was too much for your headache. 

Dana wipes at your forehead with her palm; it’s less medical and far closer to an intimate gesture. 

“So tired, Dana…” you whisper, and she smiles comfortingly at you. You were too cute to even the charge nurse like this, all docile and needy. 

“I know, kid, so no more bad patient, okay? Emma here is gonna get you a second warm blanket and I’m gonna get some fluids in you. Starting of course, with your temp, now are you gonna behave or do I need to put you over my knee like my kids?” She says, and you don’t have the energy to fight her. Though you can see how she would totally spank you.

“Apple juice? you squeak in question and even Emma can’t help but smile at how cute you are. The normally smart doctor that she was intimidated by was getting tucked in by the charge nurse and asking for juice.

“As much as you want, you just gotta let me take your temp.” Dana agrees, trying not to smile too openly at how adorable you were. No wonder the two gay ladies in the hall were arguing over your chart.

Your eyes lull closed and Dana takes it as a warning, grabbing the thermometer for under your tongue.

“How long you been feelin this way, kiddo?” She says low in her ‘mama bear’ sorta way. It works on you every time. You fold like a melted string cheese under just a little maternal push. 

“I took Harrison to this new exhibit.” You shiver, and the thermometer beeps and is pulled from your lips.

Emma types in your chart once she sees the high number. 

“Who’s Harrison?” Emma asks, being a little nosey. Thinking that it’s your boyfriend. Kids these days, she’s probably thinking he’s 5’9 in finance. Nothing could be further from the truth. Dana chuckles at her very wrong idea.

“Harrison is Dr. McKay's little boy, he’s smarter than many of the doctors on this floor and cuter than a button,” Dana informs Emma, and now you smile big.

Yeah that was a good way to describe him. 

“He’s adorable and knows he’s got me wrapped around his finger. How else would I start playing the Nintendo Switch on my weekends?” You say and your teeth chatter from your temp. 

“You saw the exhibit, you worked 3 shifts and you’ve been having a headache, haven’t you?” Dana asks but starts an IV. You don’t even twitch as the needle goes into your vein. 

“Who squealed?” You open one eye to glare.

Dana hid her laugh at the absurdity of the question. 

“You got family here, family talks.” Dana dismissed you but you still gave her a dirty gaze. It’s not scary in the least. 

“You have spies.” Your throat is raw, and you sound like Johnny Cash after smoking a pack. 

But the two nurses don’t tease you, too low-hanging fruit. Besides, Dana has worked hard to be someone you trusted, and it wasn’t her style to tease you while you're half unconscious.

“Everywhere.” Dana agrees just as the two doctors re-enter.

Both are looking equally unhappy.

“Temp?” Al-Hashimi asks and Dana lets Emma answer. She’s squeezing the IV bag, and watching you try and pull the covers up incredibly higher. Your scrubs sticking to your skin like wet newspaper. It’s rough and unkind and you want to sleep. 

“103.4,” her gentle voice is kind but you groan and yank the blanket over your head all the way. 

“Does Harrison have it too?” Emma asks and misreads the room. This wasn’t a discussion. Everyone looks at her and then Cassie.

“Excuse me?” The doctor doesn’t like that one bit.

“Why would her son have it?” Al-Hashimi asks, but her tone is off.

“He didn’t put on the astronaut helmet with the zillion children coughing in it, so no.” You say, and your voice gives out halfway. 

“Rest your voice,” Cassie instructs harshly and then eyes Emma with a new fire. 

“Either way, let’s just rule everything else out.”

“Baran!” You try to shout and her lips curl at you using her first name. Just as Cassie’s grinding her jaw.

“Healthy Doctors on my floor. Only healthy Doctors. Get some rest, Khvaab-e-shirin.” Baran reminds you and squeezes your blanket covered foot. 

The anger in Cassie’s features are hot enough they could light her fingers on fire.

But then the senior attending is out of the room again. 

“Stop it,” the head nurse snaps at Cassie. “Get that look off your face.”

She says, waiving her pointer in a tiny circle. 

“What?” Cassie pushes back rudely, only to get a threatening stare in return. 

“I warned our patient I’d take her over my knee, you want to go first?” The motherly threatening is enough that Cassie tries to bounce back.

“Blood draw, and a Covid test. Do strep too.” Cassie lists and Dana actually pulls back, looking offended. Like what was this her first day or something?

“Oh, and then what?” The nurse delivers sarcastically but Emma is typing rapidly on your chart. 

“Not you too, please.” Cassie winces after getting the riot act with Doctor Al Hashimi. A very uncomfortable back and forth where the two argued but also danced around the real issue. Baran wanted you and so did Cassie and neither wanted to work in the same shift while yearning over you. 

The blonde can’t believe this clear rudeness. 

“Hey, I’m bisexual too. You gonna fight every gay on rotation or just the ones in your weight class?” Dana arches an eyebrow, and Cassie’s eyes zone in on you to see if you're paying attention. Luckily you were out. 

You look like Harrison when he sleeps. Mouth open, little snores, body curled like a bug in a rug. Cuddling nothing but fabric, how Cassie wanted to crawl into that bed and hold you tight. 

Hold a cold cloth on your forehead and rub your lower back over and over. Hypnotic and consistent, watching over your sleeping form to keep you safe. 

Kiss your nose and soothe any bad dreams. 

Cassie McKay wanted the honor of being the person you snuggled against. 

Today and every night, never letting you get cold again. Feet pressed against her own under comforter and silent nights.

“Please Dana, I just…” Cassie is trying really she is, but she’s already raw. Already holding back from fighting with Baran. 

So the nurse's shoulders drop a little, no longer wanting to make her point.

She raises her hands up to stop McKay from trying to say another word. 

“You started the chart, you finish the chart. Emma and I will keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty. Go do rotations, by the time you're done with our first few happy customers, the labs will be back. You can’t do anything for her now anyway.” Dana says, gently reaching out to squeeze Cassie’s bicep and it helps.

Lord she needed a raise. 

“Why did I fall for the cute one everyone wants?” Cassie asks, and Emma tries not to grin at how adorably in love Dr. McKay is.

Dana shakes her head, but makes her way for the door. Pushing the doctor as well. 

“Listen, your girl didn’t get sick while on a date with Al Hashimi. Let’s remember who she spends every weekend with. Now stop marking your territory and scram.” Dana says, opening the door and walking the worried Butch out.

It’s hours later when you wake up. Sorta disoriented, you get anxious and jerk from the bed.

Strange fever dreams causing a cold sweat, you gasp in despair. 

“Hey, hey, hey, easy, it’s me,” Cassie shushes and in the dim light you blink wearily at her.

“Cass? Cassie that you?” You croak, voice something in between. 

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s okay sweetie, I turned off the lights so you could sleep better. Here,” she puts your glasses on your face and now you can make her form out better.

It soothes you and you fall back flat on the bed. Knowing she’s around always makes you feel better. 

“Am I dead?” You ask, with the IV in your arm and Cassie working on your chart.

“Not funny.” She says dryly.

“Sorta funny,” you challenge, only to see Cassie looking down, right concerned.

“You should have told me you were feeling sick.” She sighs, disappointed that somehow she missed this. You're burning out right in front of her. 

Cassie was always on you to drink water, to sleep, feeding you when you forgot. Packing extra lunches and extra coffee.

So how had the doctor so missed this? 

The answer was clear, because you hid it from her. That’s what really made Cassie sick to her stomach. 

“I could have worked my shift.” You insist. Anxious that you’d caused a fuss, a call out, you dropped the ball. Made work harder for the team. 

“Your temp spiked, you were delirious and dehydrated.” Cassie’s tone is getting more clipped, more tense, it’s building. 

In the dark you can see her worry is all consuming.

“Cassie, I just-”

“You just weren’t taking care of yourself!” She shouts and you flinch from her words and then you see her eyes shut as she tries to breathe and calm down. Not wanting to shout at you. Her temper flaring because she’s scared.

“Hey, I’m alright. I just needed some fluids and and-” You start but Cassie wipes at her face and you wonder if you’ve broken something in her. 

“You, make everyone else a priority. You can’t burn out like this, your important. Not just a doctor but…Damn it.” Cassie chews on her bottom lip trying so hard to figure out how to do this. 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Your voice cracks and your head is pounding. 

“That’s what’s got me worried.” Cassie lets out a self deprecating sound and whispers at her feet. 

“Cassie, it’s just the flu.” You say gently but Doctor McKay isn’t able to let it go. 

“I need you to take care of yourself, do you understand? You matter. I need you….” Cassie is opening her mouth and she can’t say the rest because that sentence really sums it all up. 

Cassie McKay needs you. 

“Your mad I didn’t tell you.” You say now, thinking of how you’d evaded her. 

Her head falls before she lifts it and tries to calmly discuss this. 

“I can’t take care of you if you won’t let me.” Her voice cracks and you reach out, it doesn’t take your fellow doctor more than a second to grab your hand back.

“You have enough to worry-” You try but it makes the older woman huff and cut you off. 

“No, no, you don’t get to decide. That’s not how this works.” Cassie insists and you sniffle and she can’t stay mad at you when your sick and out of it. 

So you two just hold hands and stare at one another. 

“I don’t wanna get you sick.” You whisper, voice straining and Cassie leans forward and pulls wet strand of your hair back off your face. 

“I’ll take my chances.” She says gently with love in her eyes. 

“Harrison told me it probably had more germs then chucky cheese ball pit and I still put it on. I wanted to be an astronaut.” You say in hushed tones and Cassie can’t help but snort at that. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” Cassie keeps playing with your hair and holding your hand. 

“Let me win mario cart once in a while?” You try with big pleading eyes. It wasn’t fair that she could beat you and Harrison. 

“Not a chance, that’s my street cred.” The older woman says and you giggle then wince in pain. 

“I brought you apple juice and applesauce, and I even snagged a donut. But you have to take the tylenol. Or I’m withholding the sprinkles.” She’s got a bunch of goodies on the tray.

“You are cruel.” You say back and Cassie nods like she’s tough shit. 

“You know it,” The doctor helps you sit up, propping the bed and pillows until your up. 

“I feel like death.” You say in pain.

“Now she tells me,” Cassie lays it on thick and you try to be grumpy about it. But you want that pink sprinkled donut dang it. 

“If this is the end, I just want you to know-”

Now Cassie’s not having any of it. She shakes the pill cup. 

“Don’t even, jokes about your death will not get me to share sugar.” The older doctor warns. 

“I see the light,” you push but take the pills and Cassie opens the apple juice and you take a swig. 

“Last warning,” Cassie informs lifting the donut and taking a bite herself. 

Your eyes widen, in despair - how could she be so mean. 

“I thought you swore to do no harm.” You stick out your bottom lip. 

“Dana said she’d spank you if you were bad, what do you think I’d do?” Cassie actually flirts and you lose your ability to speak at the idea. 

Dirty dirty thoughts, fuck what a sight.

“That’s what I thought, be good. I’m taking you home after my shift,” she checks her wrist watch. “So in exactly four more hours, so if you can not develop any new illnesses between then and now I’ll even let you pick dinner.”

You don’t get to say anything else, but Cassie sets the rest of the donut onto a napkin and moves the tray over your hospital bed. 

“I’m still trying to decide if I want to be good or not,” you flirt but you aren’t joking. You don’t know if you can blame it on the temperature. 

Cassie gives you a long look before leaning over your body and kissing your forehead. 

You can’t help but close your eyes and feel more loved from such a tiny peck than you had your whole life. 

Cassie lingers too long to be considered friendly, before leaning back and eyeing you. Your flushed from the temperature, that’s what she tells herself. 

“You’re already in the dog house. Now no more death jokes, close your eyes. Good dreams only, and drink your juice.”

“I want Chinese.” You say, but your heart is doing summersalts in your chest. You don’t want her to go.

“Behave.” Cassie says one last time before moving towards the door. 

“Can I have another kiss if I promise to?” You for sure can’t blame it on the temperature now. 

But Cassie also couldn’t resist such a request. She moves back to your bed and goes for your forehead but just as you close your eyes to enjoy it again. 

She moves down and pecks your lips. 

You must look like a cartoon because when you open your eyes she’s smiling at your lovestruck look. 

Your grin is so big it actually hurts your cheeks. 

“Four whole hours?” You ask needy and revel in how much Cassie seems to like you like this. 

“Two hundred and fourty minutes,” Cassie agrees but in the dark now you think you can see her own blush. 

“Do you have to go?” It’s desperate but real.

“Dana already is grumbling because I came in here every twenty minutes while you were sleeping. I think if I stay any longer she’ll send Al-Hashimi in and put me on AI charts all night.” 

“Baran’s nice!” You argue and your voice cracks. Cassie grabs your juice and makes you take a sip but she’s already disagreeing. 

“Hey, don’t forget who’s got your chart.” Cassie threatens and you wonder why the two doctors don’t get along. 

You frown and give a little pout. 

“You sure you want to take me home? I’m overly needy when I don’t feel good, I know this, and it’s gross.” You say but Cassie shakes her head. 

“I like you like this.” She admits afraid of how you’ll react.

“Bedridden, waiting for the end.” You tease again and Cassie grabs your donut and holds it up. 

“I warned you.” Cassie’s got this look that you can’t place. 

“Not the donut! Anything but the donut.” You shout playfully and move your hand to try to take it. 

“Can you be a good girl?” The older doctor asks and you can’t explain the full body reaction you have. 

Except that you were sick and maybe subspace was easier to reach like this….or maybe it was all Cassie McKay. 

But you sink and the butch see’s it immediately. Tilting her head to the side she sets the donut back down and cups your cheek. Swallowing the sugar and wondering what you taste like.

“Can you be my good girl?” Cassie asks now, and she needs you to say it. Needs it to be true. 

Your lip trembles just a bit, but the hold on your face has you feeling so cherished that you get choked up. 

You nod once.

And Cassie likes that, she likes that more than anything. 

“Good, eat, drink, sleep. Fourteen thousand four hundred seconds, then your butt is being released. And you can get as much sweet and sour soup as you want. Okay?” McKay says more to herself than to you, she’s never been more excited to get off shift. 

You nod again and grin, and Cassie doesn’t want to leave you but she’s got to. 

“You okay here?” She asks, but she’s stalling.

You nod again, then Cassie’s taking off your glasses and putting them back in her pocket.

You two stare at each other with more feelings than you can take, it’s bursting out of your chest. But she’s walking backwards to the door. 

Hesitating, not touching the doorknob. 

Almost like she’s afraid if she leaves maybe you’ll change your mind, or maybe this was all too good to be true. 

“1.44e+7” You whisper and she looks confused for a second before realizing you are doing the math for the milliseconds. 

She points to the applejuice and you grab it again and drink.

“My good girl.” 

Take care of yourself

It’s a quiet afternoon in Monaco, the kind where the air feels just a little salty and the sea breeze slips through open windows with no urgency.

You’re sitting on a blanket spread across the sun-warmed terrace of your apartment, legs outstretched, baby Amélie asleep across your chest, her cheek smushed against your collarbone. She’s drooling slightly, one tiny fist clinging to the neckline of your dress.

Leo, is curled at your feet, panting gently, his ears twitching every so often as if even in rest he’s on duty.

“Do you think he knows he’s not a big dog?” you whisper to Amélie, scratching behind Leo’s ear. “He walks like he owns the marina.”

You don’t expect an answer, of course, but if the soft grunt Amélie makes in her sleep is any indication, she agrees.

From inside the apartment, you hear the sound of laughter, then feet padding quickly across hardwood, then...

“MAMAN! Look what Papa did!”

Maxime bursts through the open sliding doors first, grinning, two strawberries stuck onto his fingers like claws. Luca follows close behind, holding what appears to be a makeshift paper crown with crayon scribbles and a Ferrari sticker on the front.

Charles trails behind them, carrying a tray with juice boxes and two small plates of cut-up fruit and cheese. He’s barefoot, sun-kissed, and wearing a navy t-shirt that used to be yours.

“He let us eat strawberries before lunch,” Maxime tattles gleefully.

Charles pretends to look scandalized. “They were organic. And sliced. That’s basically a salad.”

You give him a look, but your heart isn’t in it. He winks, sets the tray down on the blanket, and leans in to press a kiss to your temple, then one to the soft curls on Amélie’s head.

“Is she out?” he whispers.

“She made it exactly four minutes into your crown-making craft session.”

“Understandable. Maxime takes glue sticks very seriously.”

The boys settle onto the blanket, Leo immediately scooting over to rest his chin on Luca’s ankle. Maxime offers him a piece of cheese. “For being the best guard dog in the whole world.”

Leo accepts it with regal calm, as if it’s his divine right.

You and Charles sit back against the terrace railing, Amélie shifting gently in your arms, the quiet hum of the city below you. Somewhere nearby, a yacht horn blares lazily. Birds chirp. A Vespa whirs past. Monaco hums along.

“You know what I was thinking about this morning?” Charles asks suddenly, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on your knee.

“What?”

“That first summer we spent here. When the apartment had no furniture. When we had to eat pasta on the floor.”

You smile, remembering it perfectly. “And Leo was the only one with a proper bed.”

“And now look at us,” he says softly, watching Maxime show Luca how to build a tower out of cheese cubes. “Three kids, a mortgage, and enough toys to build a small city.”

“And still no matching socks for anyone,” you sigh, holding up one of Amélie’s, a soft pink one that definitely doesn’t match the yellow bootie on her other foot.

Charles laughs. “It’s called aesthetic chaos. Very trendy.”

You lean your head against his shoulder and close your eyes for a moment.

It’s warm. Not just from the sun, but from this. The life you built together, noisy and sticky and perfectly imperfect.

“I like our version of Monaco,” you murmur.

He kisses the top of your head. “Me too.”

Maxime giggles loudly, a strawberry now mushed to his nose, Luca chanting “Leo! Leo! King Leo!” as he places the paper crown on the dog’s head.

Leo sighs like a saint but allows it.

Amélie stirs in your arms, then settles again, tiny lips puckering in her sleep.

And for a long, quiet moment, nothing happens except sunlight and soft laughter and the feeling of Charles's hand, warm and sure, resting over yours.

————

the end.

------

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Donate a matcha?! 🥹

Right now, you were carrying a drink out to the lounge. The cup rattled against the tray with every step you took, warm wine sloshing over the rim. You'd tried to wipe it with a rag, but the stain bled down the clay anyway. Madam would scold you later. You were too distracted to care.

The lounge was quiet today. Outside, rain lashed against the windows, the sky black as tar even though it was still afternoon. Thunder rolled low and heavy every few minutes, shaking the floors so gently you almost didn't notice unless you were standing still.

The scent of wet earth drifted in through the cracks in the shutters. Most patrons had left before the storm hit, wanting to make it back to their ships or homes before the roads turned to rivers.

Only a few customers remained—mostly regulars, old men with hunched shoulders playing dice in the corner, their laughter low and tired. A pair of girls sat near the hearth, whispering to each other and braiding each other’s hair. The fire snapped and popped, trying its best to warm the damp chill that seeped into the floorboards.

And then there was her.

You approached slowly, balancing the tray against your hip. The woman sat alone on one of the low cushioned benches near the window. She was older, maybe in her late forties, with sharp cheekbones and light hair pinned back in a thick coil.

Her robes were deep green, trimmed with gold thread that shimmered whenever the candlelight touched it. She wore jewelry that clinked softly when she moved—rings on nearly every finger, thin bracelets stacked along her wrists, a necklace heavy with small carved charms. They clicked against the clay cup as you set it down on the low table before her.

"Your drink, ma'am," you said softly, keeping your eyes lowered.

For a moment, the woman didn't move. You saw her fingers tap once against the table, the sound muffled by her rings. Then, slowly, her head lifted, and you caught her eyes—light brown with little gold flecks near the center. They were sharp at first, narrowed with the same tired boredom you saw in most customers.

But then her gaze shifted. Softened. Brightened.

A smile curved across her lips, turning her face warm and almost girlish despite the fine lines near her eyes. Her shoulders relaxed, and her whole expression turned... flirty. Sweet, in a way that felt practiced but not cruel.

"Well, aren't you just the cutest little thing," she purred, her voice smooth and husky all at once. Her gaze dropped to the cup you placed before her, and she picked it up with graceful fingers, bringing it to her lips. "Thank you, darling."

You swallowed, heat crawling up your neck. "You're... welcome," you managed, taking a small step back and gripping the tray tighter against your hip.

You turned to leave, eager to slip away before she could say anything else, but her voice stopped you before you'd even taken two steps.

"Wait," she called softly. You paused, turning halfway, eyes darting to the floor. You heard her chuckle under her breath. "Tell me, sweet girl... do you have any customers today?"

The question made your chest tighten. You hesitated, shifting the tray in your hands.

"I... uh... no," you admitted, voice barely louder than the rain pounding against the windows. "I'm... I'm off the schedule."

There was a beat of silence. Then, like a candle sparking back to life, her eyes lit up. She perked up in her seat, her smile widening into something teasing and bright.

"Off the schedule?" she repeated, her tone dripping with amused surprise. "Oh, then you have time to sit with me, hm?"

You stiffened, your heart thumping painfully against your ribs. "I-I'm sorry, ma'am—"

She cut you off with a giggle, light and airy like the tinkle of her bracelets as she set her cup back down. Her hand reached out, fingers curling in a playful little beckoning gesture.

"Cut the 'ma'am' nonsense," she chided softly, tilting her head to the side. "You know my name."

You exhaled shakily, shoulders slumping in quiet defeat. Of course you knew her name. Everyone here did.

"...Khloris," you mumbled, just loud enough for her to hear.

Her smile turned smug and sweet at the same time, eyes twinkling as she patted the empty space beside her.

"That's better," she hummed. "Now come. Sit with me a while. My darling is still getting ready upstairs, and I hate waiting alone."

You sighed again, clutching the tray tighter to your chest, the cushion dipping softly beneath your knees as you lowered yourself onto it, careful to keep a polite distance between you and her silken robes.

Outside, thunder rolled through the sky, rattling the shutters and casting shadows across Khloris' sharp cheekbones. She looked over at you, that same playful smile tugging at her lips, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it felt like to have her confidence. To smile at storms like they were nothing but passing winds.

But you said nothing. You only sat there, eyes downcast, listening to the rain as it drummed against the glass like a heartbeat you couldn't quiet. The smell of wet wood and old wine filled your nose, warm and heavy.

Khloris leaned forward, resting her elbow on the low table; she played with the rim of her wine cup, swirling it so the dark liquid sloshed up the sides.

"Sooo..." she drawled, her voice dripping with playful curiosity. "I heard you've been bought?"

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. Her gaze was already on you, sharp and bright, waiting to see your reaction.

Your mouth fell open, but no words came out. "Wha—" Air caught painfully in your throat, making you gasp before a cough burst out of you. You bent forward, clutching the tray to your chest as your chest heaved with little choking fits. Tears welled in your eyes from the harshness of it, your cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment.

Khloris let out a small laugh, the sound rich and amused as she reached over and patted your back gently. "Easy, easy," she chuckled. "Didn't mean to kill you with gossip."

You finally caught your breath, sucking in a shaky inhale as you wiped at your watering eyes with the back of your hand. Khloris held out her wine cup toward you with a little wiggle of her fingers, bracelets jingling softly.

"Here. Sip," she said, her tone warm but teasing.

You shook your head quickly, voice hoarse. "No, thank you..."

She raised a brow, lips curving into a sly smile before pulling the cup back to herself. "Suit yourself."

She took a long, slow sip, her eyes locked on you over the rim. The candlelight flickered across her cheekbones, making her look even sharper, almost fox-like in the dim glow. When she set the cup down, she tilted her head slightly.

"So it's true then?" she began again, her voice sing-song sweet. "You've been bought?"

You swallowed thickly, fingers fumbling with the edge of the tray resting in your lap. "I—I don't know what you mean," you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady as you traced the chipped wood with your thumb.

Khloris snorted softly, a small, humorless sound that made your shoulders tense. She leaned forward, close enough that you could smell the warm spice of her perfume, and her light brown eyes narrowed playfully.

"Don't play dumb," she said, her voice low and teasing. "Word travels fast in places like these." Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "I know the prince bought your virginity."

Your breath stilled in your chest, the tray slipping slightly from your lap before you caught it with trembling hands. The sound of thunder boomed outside, echoing in your ribs like a warning drum.

Khloris only smiled wider, her eyes glittering with amused delight as she reached for her wine again, watching you over the rim like a cat who had just cornered its favorite mouse.

Your breath caught. You didn't answer. Couldn't. The way she said bought made your skin crawl, like you were nothing more than an item on a shelf. Maybe that was true. Maybe it always had been.

But you snapped out of it quickly, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you lifted your chin just slightly, trying to keep your voice light.

"Then... why'd you ask," you mumbled, your lips curling into a small pout as you traced the tray's rim with your fingertip. "If-If you already knew...?"

Khloris' smirk widened, her eyes softening with amusement as she tilted her head back against the cushion.

"I couldn't help it," she purred, swirling her wine lazily in its cup. "Your reactions... gods, they're just too cute."

You flushed, dropping your gaze to your lap. Heat crawled up your neck and pooled in your cheeks, making your chest feel too tight.

The woman leaned back further, the candlelight catching on her gold jewelry, making her look like a queen lounging in the dark. She studied you for a moment longer, silent and thoughtful, before she shook her head slightly and raised her cup to her lips again.

"Men are fools," she said through quiet sips, her voice low and tinged with tired wisdom. "Don't let this place eat you alive before he comes back."

Her words lingered between you, mixing with the thunder rumbling outside and the soft patter of rain against the glass. You swallowed hard, clutching the tray tighter, unsure how to respond.

But before you could, a faint breeze swept past your cheek, carrying with it a warm scent of vanilla and sandalwood. It wrapped around you, sweet and soft, making your breath hitch.

A small shadow fell across the table, hovering above you.

"Aww," came a sultry voice, gentle and teasing. "Hope I didn't make you wait long, love~"

You and Khloris both looked up at the same time.

Standing there was a tall woman with pale, almost porcelain skin. Her hair fell in thick waves of gold down her shoulders, catching the candlelight like threads of honey. Soft blue eyes peered down at Khloris, crinkling sweetly at the corners as she smiled. Her lips were painted a delicate rose color, and a thin silver chain looped around her neck, glinting whenever she moved.

You stood up immediately, nearly knocking the tray from your lap as you scrambled to your feet.

"Anemone," you said, breathless. The name tasted pretty in your mouth, soft like a prayer.

She tilted her head toward you, her smile brightening even more at the sound of her name, before her gaze returned to Khloris, warm and dripping with adoration.

"Hello, ____," Anemone purred softly, saying your name as her fingers reached out to brush against your cheek. Her touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine. Her thumb lingered for just a moment beneath your jaw before she glided past you, the scent of vanilla and warm skin wrapping around you like a hug.

She moved with such effortless grace, her hips swaying slightly as she reached Khloris and, without hesitation, settled straight onto her lap. The older woman let out a small, pleased hum, her hands coming up to rest against Anemone's waist as she looked up at her with an amused, gentle smile.

"You're late," Khloris teased, her voice low with warmth.

Anemone just smirked down at her, one of her delicate hands reaching out to grasp Khloris' chin, thumb stroking along her bottom lip before tilting her face up. She leaned down slowly, her golden hair spilling forward like a curtain as she pressed her lips to the edge of Khloris' jaw, dragging them lightly across her skin.

"Hmm..." she murmured softly, her voice vibrating against Khloris' neck. "I hope I wasn't stressing you out... causing you any trouble."

Her gaze flicked sideways to you, sharp and teasing all at once.

"Especially with this pretty thing here," she purred. "You know... the prince's little treasure."

Your eyes widened as you stumbled over your words, heat burning up your chest into your cheeks. "I—I'm not—He's not—I mean, it's been days... I haven't even seen him since—since that night and—"

You cut yourself off, your voice strangled and small, staring down at your feet as your fingers twisted a frayed hem of your chiton.

Both women chuckled softly at your reaction.

Khloris leaned forward to rest her chin on Anemone's chest, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Gods, she's adorable, isn't she?" she said, laughter warm and teasing in her voice.

Anemone smiled down at you, tilting her head as her fingers continued stroking along Khloris' jaw. "Mm... Absolutely precious."

Their laughter wrapped around you like silk—warm, soft, and just a little mocking. But somehow, it didn't feel cruel. Just... familiar. Like the teasing of women who knew too much about the world and saw you still learning how to breathe in it.

You puffed out a small breath, cheeks hot as you looked away from them. Your fingers twisted tighter in your chiton, your shoulders curling in slightly.

"...Everyone's been teasing me lately," you muttered under your breath, voice soft and a little bitter. "As if the prince would just... walk in here again. It's been days."

Your words hung heavy in the air, mixing with the crackle of the hearth and the quiet laughter of the two women. Thunder rumbled outside, low and long, making the windows shake in their frames.

And then... the door creaked open.

A gust of cold air swept through the lounge, carrying with it the smell of rain and wet earth. You glanced up instinctively, expecting to see another customer, another drunk sailor dripping water onto the rugs.

But your breath caught in your throat.

Telemachus stood in the doorway, soaked from head to toe. His curls clung to his forehead in dripping spirals, water sliding down the strong lines of his jaw and neck, soaking into the collar of his tunic. His chest rose and fell, his breath coming out in little huffs like he'd been running. Rain dripped from his lashes, clinging to them like tiny diamonds.

And his eyes... gods, his eyes landed on you the moment he stepped inside.

They widened, dark and soft all at once, relief flooding his face as his shoulders dropped. His lips pulled up into a small, shy smile, trembling at the edges as he let out a quiet, shaky breath.

" ____," he whispered, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

Your mouth fell open, a small gasp slipping out before you could stop it. Your chest tightening painfully, your heart thudding so hard it almost hurt.

Anemone let out a low, delighted purr. "Mm... speak of Hades," her voice dripped with amusement. "Or perhaps... Hermes delivered that one quick."

Khloris chuckled under her breath, her eyes glinting with quiet delight as she tilted her head to watch you. "Well... don't just stand there with your mouth open, dove," she murmured, smirking. "Your prince is waiting."

Your breath caught in your chest as you looked back at him. Telemachus was already moving toward you, his boots leaving little puddles across the worn wooden floor. His shoulders shook slightly, whether from the cold or from something else, you couldn't tell. Drops of rain slid down his cheeks like tears, clinging to his lashes before falling onto his already-soaked tunic.

He stopped in front of you, close enough that you could smell the rain on him—earthy and cold, mixed with the faint scent of clean wool and smoke that always clung to his cloak.

"...____..." he whispered again, voice cracking at the edges like he hadn’t spoken in hours. "Gods... I..."

Your hands reached for him before you could think, trembling as they lifted toward his face, desperate to touch him, to wipe away the rain and prove he was real. But halfway there, you froze. Your chest tightened, heat rising to your cheeks as you snatched your hands back against your chest.

You looked down quickly, your fingers curling into the fabric of your chiton, your shoulders curling in on themselves.

I can't, you thought, shame burning through you, recalling where you were at the moment.

When you dared to glance up again, Telemachus' gaze had softened even more. His eyes flicked down to your hands before returning to your face, dark and warm all at once. His lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to clear your throat. Your voice came out small and shaky.

"D-Did you... uh... did you come to see... me...?" you asked softly, your words barely louder than the rain drumming against the windows.

Telemachus let out a small, breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck. His fingers tangled in the wet curls there, pushing them back slightly as he ducked his head, his cheeks flushing pink despite the cold.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice still rough and shy. "I... I did. I wanted to... but I wasn't sure how soon... and then the days... they just... they just kept passing by..."

His sentence trailed off, his hand falling back to his side as he looked at you, eyes flickering over every inch of your face like he was memorizing it all over again.

Before you could gather the courage to speak up, a voice cut through the quiet.

"Gods, this is painful to watch," Khloris tutted, her tone thick with teasing annoyance as she leaned back into the cushions with a dramatic sigh.

Anemone hummed in agreement, her pale blue eyes flicking down at Khloris with a lazy smile. "Mm... so dramatic, these two," she purred softly, her fingers brushing along Khloris' jaw before slipping back into her hair.

Without warning, Anemone leaned down and pressed her lips to Khloris', capturing her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. It wasn't long, but it burned hot, making your cheeks flush just from witnessing it. Khloris' hand slid up to cup Anemone's neck, her fingers threading into the blonde waves as she pulled her closer, deepening it just slightly before they pulled apart.

Anemone was the first to break away, her chest rising and falling with quiet, shaky breaths. Her lips were red and kissed-swollen as she smiled down at Khloris, their foreheads brushing lightly for a fleeting moment of intimacy. "I'll be back~"

Then she turned to you, her smile morphing into something bright and playful as she reached out, her cool fingers wrapping around your trembling hands. Before you could react, she tugged you away, the tray clattering softly against the floor as you stumbled away from Telemachus.

"Come on, little dove," she said, her voice airy as she began pulling you down the hall. Her grip was gentle but firm, her bracelets jingling softly with each step. Over her shoulder, she called out with a sly grin, "I shouldn't be long."

Her gaze flicked back toward Telemachus, who stood frozen in place, still dripping rain onto the wooden floor.

"The room will be ready in a sec, your highness," she added teasingly before turning back forward, leading you down the dim corridor lit only by flickering wall lanterns and the faint, muffled echoes of thunder outside.

Your heart raced in your chest, every beat thudding louder than your footsteps as you tried to calm your breathing, feeling her fingers still wrapped around yours, warm and steady.

.☆.      .✩.          .☆.

Some time later, you found yourself standing in front of one of the private rooms, your nerves jittery under your skin like trapped lightning. Anemone gave your hands a reassuring squeeze before letting go, reaching out to push open the wooden door with a quiet creak.

She glanced back at you with a soft, almost sisterly smile. "Remember... relax your shoulders, keep breathing, and don't forget to listen to him too, alright?" she whispered, her thumb brushing your knuckles. She handed you a small tray; it held two clay cups, a jug of wine, and a little bottle of rose oil. "For... you know," she murmured with a wink, giving the bottle a little tap.

Your cheeks burned hot as you nodded quickly, clutching the tray with both hands.

Anemone's smile turned playful as she leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "You'll be fine, little dove," she hummed before pushing you further inside and stepping back into the hall, pulling the door closed behind her with a soft click.

The room felt warmer than the lounge, the hearth burning low in the stone fireplace, filling the space with a soft orange glow. The faint crackle of flames mixed with the quiet drip of rain still sliding down the shuttered windows. It smelled like lavender soap and smoke... and him.

Your eyes flicked up to where Telemachus stood by the far wall, his back turned to you. He was pulling off his damp cloak, water droplets splattering onto the wooden floor beneath his boots. His shoulders moved with each breath, tense and strong under the dim flickering light.

You swallowed hard, quickly setting the tray of wine and oil down on the small table beside the bed before fidgeting with the edge of your chiton.

"I—I can help you... if you'd like..." you offered softly, your voice shaking as you took a hesitant step forward.

He didn't respond at first, only let out a shaky exhale as he unhooked his cloak fully, draping it over a chair. You turned away quickly to fetch a clean towel from the shelf near the bed, your hands fumbling clumsily with the folded linen.

When you turned back around—

Your breath caught in your throat.

Telemachus was shirtless now, his damp tunic pulled halfway up his torso as he struggled to peel it off. The firelight flickered across his skin, casting gold and bronze shadows over his chest and stomach. You could see the strong lines of his shoulders, the slight curve of his waist, the faint trail of hair leading down past where the tunic still clung to his hips.

Small droplets of rain slid down his chest, gathering in little rivulets along his ribs before dripping down to his—

Your eyes widened, heat flooding your face so fast you thought you might faint. Your throat closed up with a tiny squeak as your gaze darted away.

"I—I'm sorry!" you squeaked, clapping a hand over your mouth as you spun back around, nearly dropping the towel. Your chest burned with embarrassment, your ears hot as your mind scrambled with what you'd just seen.

Gods... he was... naked. And you were just standing there staring at him like a stupid little girl who'd never seen a man undress before.

Your knees felt weak. Your stomach twisted with heat and something sharp, something that made your chest feel too tight for your ribs.

Behind you, you heard him let out a small laugh under his breath. You swallowed hard, pressing your hand to your burning cheek as you peeked over your shoulder. He noticed your hesitancy and let out another laugh, raising one hand in reassurance.

"It's alright," he said quickly, his cheeks pink as he gestured down with a flustered little huff. "My... um... my bottom half is still covered."

You blinked, your eyes finally daring to flicker down. Instead of the loose wrap cloth most men wore beneath their tunics, he had on something... different.

It was tight along his calves but looser at the thighs, made of a soft-looking dark fabric with faint embroidery along the sides. They were tucked neatly into his boots, which sat discarded near the hearth, damp from the storm.

You stared for a moment, lips parting in quiet awe. "What... what is that?" you whispered without thinking, your curiosity overpowering your embarrassment as you stepped closer.

Telemachus glanced down at himself, a small, sheepish smile curling at the edges of his mouth. "Ah... these are called… anaxyrides," he explained, stumbling slightly over the foreign word. "They're... um... trousers. Pants. I just came back from a political envoy... we were bartering with a neighboring kingdom called Persia. The men there... they wear these instead of tunics."

Persia? Your eyes widened, the name ringing faintly in your memory from old merchant gossip and sailors' stories. You stepped even closer until you were right in front of him, your fingers reaching out before you could stop yourself. You brushed the fabric lightly, feeling how smooth and finely woven it was compared to the rough linen of your chiton.

"They're so... soft..." you breathed, your voice quiet with wonder. "Do they... have something for the top half too?"

Telemachus let out a soft laugh, the sound low and warm as his chest shook with it. His hair was still damp, little droplets falling from the ends of his curls and dripping onto his bare shoulders.

"They do," he said, his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled down at you. "Some men wear a... Kandys," he explained, saying the word slowly so you could catch it. "It's like... a cloak with sleeves. Others wear tunics with attached sleeves. It's... practical, I suppose... especially for riding or traveling in bad weather."

You nodded absentmindedly, your fingers still toying with the edge of his pants before you realized what you were doing. Heat shot back up your neck and you yanked your hand away, pressing it to your chest as you ducked your head.

"I... I didn't mean to... touch..." you stammered, your words tangling together clumsily.

Telemachus only smiled, his cheeks flushed pink as he reached up to rub the back of his neck again. "It's alright," he murmured softly, his voice still hoarse from the rain and a little breathless. "I... I don't mind... if it's you."

You swallowed hard, your chest feeling too tight for your ribs. Heat burned up your neck, making your ears throb with it. You ducked your head quickly, staring down at the towel clutched in your hands.

Clearing your throat softly, you stepped closer and raised the towel toward him. "Um... here," you mumbled, your voice small as you unfolded it. "Let me... you're still dripping everywhere."

He blinked at you, startled by your sudden determination, but then a small, tender smile spread across his lips. He nodded once before bending forward slightly, lowering his head so you could reach.

Your hands moved carefully, brushing the towel through his damp curls, gently squeezing out the rainwater clinging to each strand. The smell of him filled your nose—warm earth, faint woodsmoke, and rain. You worked in quiet concentration, your fingers trembling every time they brushed against his skin by accident.

He stayed still under your touch, only letting out a quiet breath whenever your hands shifted to gather more of his hair in the towel. You felt his gaze on you—heavy, warm, unblinking. It made your chest flutter painfully, and you tried to ignore the way your heart slammed against your ribs every time his eyes followed the movement of your hands.

When you finished with his hair, you pulled back slightly, your gaze flicking to his face for just a second. He was smiling softly at you, eyes half-lidded and warm, like he was memorizing the feeling of you taking care of him.

Your breath hitched in your chest, and you quickly looked away, holding out the towel with shaking hands.

"Here, uh... y-you can... finish drying yourself..." you stammered, your voice breaking slightly as you forced your gaze down to the floor.

He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and quiet as he took the towel from you. "Thank you," he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he began patting down his chest and shoulders.

You tried not to look. Gods, you tried. But your eyes flicked up despite yourself, catching sight of his bare chest, the way his skin glowed gold and bronze in the firelight, little droplets sliding down his collarbones and disappearing past his ribs—

Quickly, you snapped your eyes away, focusing on a dark knot in the wooden floorboards instead.

"So... um..." you blurted out, your voice too loud in the quiet room. "H-How... how was your trip...?"

He paused mid-motion, glancing up at you with those dark, gentle eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips as he let out a quiet, breathless laugh.

"...It was long," he said softly, his voice rough and warm all at once. "But... I think this makes it worth it."

Your heart fluttered painfully in your chest as you kept your eyes glued to the floor, praying he couldn't hear the way your breath shook with every exhale.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather yourself before forcing out, "G-Good. That's... uh... that's good..."

Your voice trailed off into silence. You felt your throat tighten, your chest squeezing painfully as your mind started spinning out of control.

Shit... shit... what do I say now?

Your eyes flicked to the side, staring at the cracks in the floorboards as panic rose in your chest.

Gods... what am I supposed to say to him? What do you even say to a man like him—a prince, no less—who's... who's technically a customer but... but we haven't even… but he... gods, what do I do?!

Your thoughts tangled together like knotted thread, hot and messy in your chest. You felt your breath starting to quicken, embarrassment prickling at your skin like needles.

But before you could drown yourself completely in the panic, Telemachus' voice broke through your spiraling thoughts.

"Um... would... would you like some wine...?" he asked softly, his words awkward and hesitant, like he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say either.

Your eyes snapped up to him, wide with surprise. "Yes!" you blurted out, a little too loudly, the word bursting from your lips before you could stop it.

Your face burned with heat, and you quickly ducked your head again, clearing your throat as you tried to collect yourself.

"I—I mean... sure, I can go for a drink," you said, this time a little softer, a little less eager, though your voice still trembled at the edges.

When you dared to peek up at him again, you saw Telemachus smiling. Really smiling. His lips pulled up into a small, crooked grin as a quiet laugh escaped his chest, low and warm like the crackle of the hearth nearby.

He turned slightly, reaching for the clay pitcher on the tray and carefully pouring the deep red wine into one of the small cups. His hands shook just a little, droplets of wine sliding down the outside of the cup to drip onto his wrist, but he didn't seem to notice.

He glanced back at you, his curls falling slightly over his forehead as he held out the cup with a soft smile.

"Here," he said gently, his voice still tinged with shy laughter. "For you."

Your chest tightened painfully as you reached out with trembling fingers, brushing against his as you took the cup from his hands.

"Th... thank you."

Telemachus just smiled softly, nodding once before glancing around the room. He shifted slightly, tilting his head in a small gesture—an unspoken signal for you to sit down.

Your chest tightened, heat flooding your cheeks again as you moved to obey, settling down carefully on the edge of the bed. The sheets felt cool beneath your fingertips, smelling faintly of lavender soap and old wood. Telemachus sat down beside you, not too close, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his bare skin.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You both lifted your cups to your lips at the same time, taking small, tentative sips.

The wine was warm and heavy on your tongue, fruity at first with hints of something sweet—fig or date maybe—but it turned bitter near the end, leaving a faint dryness at the back of your throat. You swallowed carefully, feeling it settle in your chest with a quiet warmth.

Silence wrapped around you both, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearth and the distant rumble of thunder outside. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, your fingers curling tighter around the small clay cup.

Your thoughts spun wildly, tripping over themselves as you tried to think of something—anything—to say.

Ask about his trip again? No... stupid. Ask about the pants? Gods, no, you already did... thank him? For what, for drinking wine with you? Shit... shit...

You inhaled shakily, scolding yourself internally.

Say something. You have to say something. Don't chicken out, ____. Don't sit here like a trembling little rabbit...

Taking another small sip for courage, you exhaled softly, gathering the words in your chest before letting them slip out.

"So, I heard—" "We don't have to—"

Both your voices collided at once, words overlapping clumsily in the quiet room. You both froze, glancing at each other with wide eyes before small, shy laughs bubbled up from your chests.

Your cheeks burned even hotter as you ducked your head slightly. "You... you can go first," you mumbled, your fingers fidgeting with the rim of your cup.

But Telemachus shook his head quickly, his curls bouncing slightly with the motion. "No, please," he said softly, his voice earnest and a little breathless. "I insist. You first."

His dark eyes were locked on yours, warm and waiting, and you felt your chest tighten at how gently he was looking at you—like you were something fragile and precious, something he was afraid to touch too suddenly.

You swallowed, quickly tearing your gaze away before you got lost in his eyes completely. You stared down into your cup instead, watching the dark red wine ripple softly with each shaky breath you took.

Gathering your courage, you shifted slightly, your knees brushing his for just a fleeting second before you pulled them back. Your voice came out quiet and unsure, but you forced the words past the tightness in your throat.

"I... um... I heard..." you began, your fingers curling tighter around your cup, "I heard that... I've been... bought off rotation."

Your chest squeezed painfully at the confession, your heart hammering against your ribs as you risked a small glance up at him.

Telemachus' cheeks flushed immediately, his eyes widening as he sputtered, words tripping over themselves clumsily. "I—I didn't mean—I mean, I did, but I... gods, I hope it didn't feel controlling or... or like I was trying to... I just thought—"

You giggled softly before you could stop yourself, the sound slipping out and wrapping around the quiet room like a small candle flicker in the dark.

"It's okay," you whispered, shaking your head as your smile grew just a little. "I... I found it sweet... actually."

He blinked at you, his lips parting slightly as if he couldn't quite believe what you were saying.

You swallowed again, your eyes darting back down to your wine as you gathered your thoughts, trying to keep your voice from trembling.

"Like I told you before... I came to work here thinking..." you breathed out, your words quiet and almost shy, "thinking maybe I could... buy myself a better life someday. Save enough to leave... start somewhere new... but..."

You paused, glancing up at him through your lashes, your chest tightening at the way he was looking at you—like you were the only person in the room. The only person in the world.

"But... now... thanks to you... maybe... maybe I can," you finished softly, your voice cracking just a little at the end.

Telemachus swallowed thickly, his eyes glassy with emotion as his grip tightened slightly around his cup. His shoulders relaxed, his whole body seeming to sag with quiet relief.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, warm and thick, filled only by the quiet crackle of the hearth and the distant rumble of thunder outside.

Then, slowly, you inhaled, feeling your chest rise and fall as you forced yourself to meet his gaze fully.

"So..." you whispered, your fingers trembling around your cup, "did you... did you come tonight... to... to get your claim...?"

Your voice trailed off, your heart thudding painfully loud in your ears as you waited for his answer, praying silently that whatever he said... you could handle it.

For a moment, Telemachus was silent. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the wine cup until his knuckles turned white. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a small, soft smile.

"I..." he began, his voice quiet and rough, "I just... wanted to see you again." He shifted slightly on the bed, turning his body a little more toward you. His dark eyes flicked down to his hands before meeting yours again, glowing in the flickering firelight.

"We... we can do whatever you like," he whispered softly, his voice breaking just a little with shyness. "I didn't come here to... to claim anything. I just... I wanted to see you... to know you're okay."

Your heart fluttered so hard it almost hurt. You looked down quickly, blinking back the heat rising behind your eyes as a small smile tugged at your lips.

Not wanting him to see how much his words affected you, you lifted the wine cup to your lips, taking a slow sip to hide the way your mouth curved upward. The warm, fruity bitterness spread across your tongue and down your throat, settling heavy in your chest in the same place where his words now lived.

You lowered the cup slightly, your eyes flicking up to him through your lashes. His gaze was still on you, soft and unblinking, and for the first time in days... your chest felt light.

Warm.

Wanted.

Silence fell between you both for a while, soft and heavy like a blanket draped over your shoulders. You lifted your cup again, sipping the warm wine and feeling it spread heat through your chest, loosening something tight inside you.

Your eyes flicked sideways to him. Telemachus took a sip too, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, before lowering his cup into his lap.

He shifted slightly on the bed, his knee brushing against yours for just a fleeting second. His voice broke the quiet, rough and low, tinged with an awkward shyness that made your chest flutter.

"Do you... do you like the rain?" he asked softly.

You blinked, surprised by the question. Your eyes flicked up to his face, seeing his curls damp and curling messily around his forehead, his cheeks still pink from warmth and nerves. Slowly, you nodded, your gaze dropping back down to your cup.

"I... I think I do," you whispered shyly. "When I'm warm inside, like this."

Your smile was small and nervous as you said it, your fingers fidgeting against the clay rim of your cup. But when you glanced back up at him, Telemachus was smiling too. A soft, crooked little grin that made his eyes glow warmly under the flickering firelight.

"Me too," he murmured, his voice low and almost thoughtful. "Makes the world feel... softer."

Your chest tightened, warmth blooming through you so quickly it made you shiver. You took another sip of wine to hide the way your lips wanted to tremble.

A quiet pause settled over you both again before you swallowed and forced yourself to speak.

"How... um... how was your trip?" you asked softly, your voice trembling just slightly as you traced the rim of your cup with your fingertip, unable to sit still.

Telemachus let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders sinking a little as he rolled his eyes playfully. "It was... mostly old men arguing," he said, his voice dripping with tired humor. "But... there was this one merchant... from Tyre... kept trying to sell me a goat."

You blinked, your brows furrowing slightly. "A goat...?"

He nodded seriously, lips twitching with amusement. "He claimed it could predict the weather."

You stared at him, eyes wide in shock for a second before a small giggle bubbled up from your chest. You clapped your hand over your mouth, cheeks burning with heat as the giggle slipped out anyway.

"A goat?? That predicts rain??" you whispered, your voice cracking with quiet laughter.

Telemachus chuckled softly, nodding again. "Swore on his entire stock of wine it was true," he said, his smile widening as he watched your shoulders shake with laughter.

Your chest fluttered with warmth, the tension you hadn't realized you'd been holding melting from your shoulders. You lowered your hand slowly, your lips still curled into a smile, your breath coming out light and trembling with leftover giggles.

Warmth spread through your chest, wrapping around your ribs like gentle sunlight. For a moment, it was just you and him. No titles. No customers. Just two young people sitting by the fire, giggling about a goat that predicted the rain.

When you finally looked back up at him, Telemachus was staring at you. His eyes were soft, his lips parted slightly as if he'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Gods..." he whispered, his voice low and shaking with something thick and warm. "Your smile... it's beautiful."

Your smile faded into something softer, smaller, shy. The words sank deep into your chest, curling there like a small ember glowing warm against your ribs. You felt your breath catch, your heart squeezing so tightly it almost hurt.

The fire crackled softly beside you both, filling the room with the faint scent of woodsmoke and warmth. Rain tapped against the shutters in gentle, rhythmic beats, like fingertips drumming along the wood.

Everything felt quiet. Still. Like the whole world had gone silent just to watch you and him.

Telemachus' eyes flicked down to your lips, lingering there for a breath, two, before he leaned in slightly. He paused, his breath trembling against your cheek, his nose brushing yours. Waiting. Always waiting for you to make the final move... for you to choose him first.

Your stomach fluttered so hard you thought you might be sick. But you wanted him. Gods, you wanted him so badly it made your chest ache.

So you leaned in.

Your lips brushed his lightly, testing, soft as a whisper. His breath caught in his chest, his lips trembling against yours. The kiss tasted faintly of wine—sweet and bitter all at once—warm and heady, like something stolen and savored. Something you wanted again and again and again.

Your hands reached up before you could think, fingers trembling as they cupped his jaw, thumbs brushing lightly along the sharp lines of his cheekbones.

Telemachus let out a low sigh against your mouth, a sound that made your chest tighten with something hot and needy. He took it as a green light. Without breaking the kiss, his hands moved quickly, grabbing the cups from your laps and setting them aside onto the tray with a quiet clatter that made your heart jump.

Then his hands were on you—one sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, the other curling around your waist, pulling you closer with a sudden, desperate strength. His lips pressed harder against yours, tilting your head slightly as he deepened the kiss.

You gasped softly, the sound swallowed by his mouth before his tongue slipped past your lips, warm and trembling, tasting you like he couldn't believe he was allowed to.

Your head filled with nothing but him. His smell—rain and smoke and something clean. His warmth, wrapping around you like a blanket pulled tight. His touch, grounding and trembling all at once, like he needed you to breathe.

You felt your whole body soften into his hold, your chest pressing against his as his kisses grew hungrier, more desperate, tasting like a prayer whispered to the dark.

And gods... you wanted to answer every single one.

At some point, you weren't sure exactly how, he ended up above you. The bed dipped beneath your back as you sank into the sheets, the faint scent of lavender soap and old wood rising up around you.

Your chest heaved with every shaky breath, your arms reaching up without thinking, fingers curling around his shoulders as you pulled him down to you again.

Telemachus let out a small, desperate sound at the back of his throat as his lips found yours once more. His kiss was hungry, trembling, almost clumsy in its eagerness as he chased your mouth like he couldn't stand even a breath of distance between you.

Your head felt fuzzy, the leftover wine swirling warm and heavy in your stomach, mixing with the slow-growing heat that pooled low in your belly. Every brush of his lips made it throb stronger, every breathless sigh against your skin making your thighs clench together with quiet, aching need.

His kisses trailed down, brushing along your jaw, then lower to your neck. You felt his warm breath against your collarbone, his lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses there that made your stomach twist with something sharp and wanting.

Then you felt it—his hands bunching your chiton up around your hips, fabric sliding across your thighs, baring you to the cool air and his hot, trembling touch.

"Wait—!"you gasped out, your voice cracking as your hands shot down to grab his wrists.

Telemachus froze instantly, his chest heaving against yours as he lifted his head to look at you. His curls fell into his eyes, damp with sweat and rain. His cheeks were flushed pink, his lips kiss-swollen and parted, his breath coming out ragged and hot against your skin.

Your own chest rose and fell quickly as you sat up slightly on your elbows, staring up at him with wide, panicked eyes.

"I... I haven't—" you stuttered out, your voice shaking. "I haven't had a chance to... to freshen up..."

Telemachus blinked down at you, still panting softly, his brows furrowing in confusion as he tried to catch his breath. "Freshen up...?"

You swallowed hard, looking away as your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. "I... I didn't get to... to prepare... or bathe... or... or anything," you whispered, your words trailing off into quiet shame. "I was... I was working all day... I-I didn't know... you'd come... tonight..."

Your fingers curled tighter in the sheets beneath you, your chest squeezing painfully as you stared down at the hem of your chiton bunched around your hips. Your heart thudded loud in your ears, your breath coming out in shaky, embarrassed little gasps as you waited for his reaction.

Telemachus just blinked down at you, his brows furrowing slightly like he was trying to process what you'd said. His chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths as he swallowed hard.

"Did... did you bathe this morning?" he asked quietly, his voice still rough and a little breathless.

You nodded quickly, your cheeks burning hot as you whispered, "Y-Yes, I did, but still—"

Before you could say anything else, he let out a quiet, shaky laugh. His lips curled into a crooked, almost sinful smile as he shook his head slightly.

"Gods..." he breathed out, his voice dropping lower, thicker. "I... I honestly wouldn't care if you didn't."

Your eyes widened, your mouth falling open with a small, shocked gasp. "W-What...?"

His gaze darkened further, his eyes flicking down to your lips and then lower, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip before he let out another quiet, breathless laugh.

"I... gods, I..." he stammered softly, his voice cracking with quiet desperation. "I don't care... about any of that. You could... you could taste like sweat... or work... or anything..."

Your breath hitched sharply at his words. Heat twisted low in your belly, sharp and fluttery all at once, shame and want mixing so violently it made your thighs press together until they ached. Gods... gods, what was he about to say...

"...and I'd still want to bury my face between your thighs until you're shaking so hard you forget your own name."

His grip tightened against your hips, fingers digging in just slightly as his eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and heavy with heat. Your breath caught painfully in your chest, a small, choked noise slipping out of your throat as your thighs clenched tighter beneath him. Your face burned so hot you felt lightheaded, your hands fisting in the sheets as shame and wanting twisted sharp and dizzying in your belly.

"T-Telemachus...!"

Before you could say anything else, his lips crashed into yours again, swallowing whatever shocked little gasp you made.

His kiss was rougher this time, desperate and trembling as his hand slid up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. You felt his tongue slip past your lips, warm and wet, tasting you with slow, hungry strokes that made your head spin.

When he finally pulled back, both of you panting, his nose brushed against yours. His eyes were dark and blown wide with need, his curls falling around his face as he pressed his forehead to yours.

"I don't care." His voice was rough and low, trembling with quiet, desperate honesty. "I just... I just want you."

Your breath hitched, your chest squeezing painfully tight at his words. Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours again, softer this time, his kiss tasting like warm wine and quiet desperation.

Then his hands were moving down, sliding along your hips, bunching your chiton higher around your waist. His kisses trailed down your neck, hot and open-mouthed, until his breath fanned warmly against your belly.

You gasped softly, your fingers threading into his damp curls before suddenly tensing.

"Wait," you whispered, your voice coming out sharper than you meant.

Telemachus froze immediately. He glanced up at you, his eyes wide and worried, curls falling into his flushed face. "I... it's okay," he said quickly, trying to reassure you, his voice trembling with quiet urgency. "I don't mind. Gods, I'm a soldier, I've—"

"It's not that," you blurted out, cutting him off in your embarrassment. Your cheeks burned hot as you sat up slightly, your thighs pressing together under his hands.

He blinked up at you, confused. "Then... what is it...?"

Your throat felt tight, your chest squeezing painfully as you struggled to find the words. You looked away from him, down at where your hands twisted in the sheets.

"I just... I still feel bad... about last time," you whispered, your voice trembling with quiet shame. "I don't... I don't want it to be... like that again. You... you didn't get anything... and I..."

You swallowed hard, your words trailing off as your face burned hotter.

"I don't want it to be... just me again," you finished softly, your voice barely louder than the quiet patter of rain against the window.

Telemachus was silent for a long moment. You risked a glance up at him, your stomach twisting with anxiety, only to see him staring at you with wide, glassy eyes.

Then, slowly, his lips curved into a small, crooked smile. He let out a quiet, breathless laugh, shaking his head slightly.

"Gods..." he whispered, his voice rough with something thick and warm. "You're really cute, you know that?"

Before you could respond, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Then he pulled away completely, shifting his weight back and standing up at the edge of the bed.

You blinked in surprise, your chest heaving slightly as you glanced around. You hadn't even noticed he'd moved you both to the center of the bed during all the kissing and shifting, the bedding dipping slightly beneath your hips where you now lay half reclined, your chiton bunched up around your thighs.

Telemachus stood above you, shirtless and flushed, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked down at you, his dark eyes warm and unreadable.

His head tilted slightly, curls brushing his temple as he hummed low in his throat. "Fine," he said at last, voice rough but edged with something playful. "If you're insistent on making sure I'll... enjoy myself this time—" his mouth curved into a faint smirk, "—which, for the record, I did last time—then I'll teach you what I like."

Your stomach gave a nervous little twist, but before you could respond, his tone shifted—lower, edged with impatience. "But first..." His gaze dragged over you in a way that made your cheeks burn. "Can I... taste you?"

Heat rushed straight to your face, and you instantly covered it with your hands."Telemachus!" you hissed, your voice a mix of fluster and disbelief. "Stop saying stuff like that!"

He laughed—soft and warm, the sound curling down your spine—before catching your wrists and tugging your hands gently away from your face. "Why not?" he asked, smiling like he was enjoying your embarrassment far too much. "It's not the worst I could say... not the filthiest, either."

You glared at him weakly, murmuring under your breath, "...Still."

Telemachus let out a small sigh, though the corner of his mouth still twitched with amusement. "Fine. I'll stop teasing," he murmured—though the glint in his eyes made you doubt he meant it entirely.

Without another word, he lowered himself smoothly to his knees in front of you. Your breath caught, pulse skipping as his large hands found your hips, warm even through the bunched fabric of your dress.

Then, with effortless strength, he pulled you forward. The bed dipped beneath you as your body slid toward the edge of the bed, your knees parting slightly without thought. You hadn't realized how easily he could move you until now—how his grip was firm but not rough, guiding rather than forcing.

The heat in your stomach swirled, your thighs tensing as a wave of flutters rushed through you. Gods... he made it look so easy. And worse—part of you liked that he could.

Before you could even think to brace yourself—before your nerves could talk you into pulling away—he was on you.

The first brush of his mouth against you tore the air straight from your lungs. You gasped, sharp and shaky, your fingers darting into his hair before you even realized what you were doing. Your body tensed for a heartbeat, every muscle tightening in surprise—then it all melted, a slow, dizzy surrender that left you leaning back on your elbows.

The heat of his breath, the wet, smooth glide of his tongue—gods, it was too much too fast. A small, breathy moan slipped past your lips before you could swallow it down.

Telemachus groaned in return, low and deep, the sound vibrating against you in a way that made your back arch. You felt his hands tighten on your thighs, thumbs stroking once before his grip turned firmer, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

Your heart hammered, your thoughts scattering with every slow drag and swirl of his tongue. The warmth of his mouth, the faint scrape of his stubble against your skin—it was all you could focus on. The edges of the room blurred; the rain outside faded. Every part of you narrowed down to him, his mouth, the way he seemed to savor you like this was something he’d been starving for.

And gods help you, the more you felt, the less you could think at all.

The heat in your belly was building far too quickly, curling tight and low until it felt like every nerve in your body was strung up and trembling. Your nails found his scalp without thinking, dragging lightly through the damp strands of his hair, and another moan poured from your lips—high and breathless.

It turned into something closer to a squeal when he pressed his face in closer, his grip on your thighs firm as he guided your legs higher. The new angle made you shiver, your breath catching as his tongue moved lower, teasing and tasting as if he wanted every inch of you—like he couldn't stand the idea of leaving any part untouched.

Your head fell back, mouth falling open as your thoughts dissolved into nothing but sensation. And then, without warning, his mouth shifted—his lips closing around your nub and sucking with a slow, deliberate pull that sent a shock through your whole body.

The climax hit you before you had time to brace for it, crashing over you in a wave that left your toes curling and your thighs shaking against his hold. Your body jolted, shivers racking your spine as the warmth spilled and spiraled outward, and he didn't stop—he stayed with you through it, tongue working gently until the last of your moans faded to trembling gasps.

Only then did Telemachus lift his head, pressing one final, lingering lick against you before pulling back. His lips were wet, his breathing uneven, and his eyes—gods, his eyes—looked almost dazed as he stared up at you.

His chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths, each inhale still tinged with your scent. He dragged his tongue slowly across his lips, like he couldn't help himself, catching the last taste of you before sitting back on his heels. The room was silent except for the ragged rhythm of your panting and his—two sets of lungs trying to settle after something that felt like it had stolen the air from both of you.

"...Was it okay?" he asked finally, his voice low and unsure in a way that almost made your heart ache.

You gave him a wobbly, breathless smile, raising a shaky thumbs-up before sighing, "The... best."

That earned you a grin—soft, boyish, so achingly sweet it didn't match the heat still pulsing in your veins. He stood then, stretching slightly, and your gaze followed before you could stop it. The shift in his stance gave you the first bare, dizzying glimpse—

You swallowed the yelp that tried to escape, your fingers curling against the sheets. Telemachus was nude now, the loose Persian trousers gone without you even noticing when.

He was... above average, enough to make your stomach twist at the thought of taking him, but not so much it looked unreal. Slightly thicker than most, with a fullness that made your breath hitch just looking at it, the weight of him solid, grounding. He curved slightly upward—natural for someone with his lean, wiry strength—heavier at the base before tapering into a flushed, well-defined head. His skin there was the same golden-tan as the rest of him, maybe even a shade darker, faint veins tracing the length in a way that made your mouth go dry. A soft, dark thatch of curls framed the base, trimmed short—practical, clean, touched by the heat and work of the day.

The sight alone had your thighs pressing together before you could think, the ache in your stomach deepening.

Your breath caught when his hand moved, wrapping loosely around himself, his fingers curling in a slow, deliberate stroke. His eyes found yours, darker now—heavy-lidded, voice low and rough when he spoke.

"Do you like what you see?"

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you could stop yourself, the motion feeling too obvious, but you couldn't lie—not with your pulse pounding in your ears like this. You gave the smallest nod, and he smirked.

"Good."

He stepped closer, the steady motion of his hand on himself never faltering, and extended his other hand toward you. You hesitated only a moment before taking it, his palm warm and calloused as he gently drew you up onto your knees.

"It's alright," he murmured, a small smile ghosting across his lips. "You won't hurt me. Don't be embarrassed."

Then he guided your hands, slow and patient, until they rested over his own. Your breath hitched at the contact—the startling heat of him against your skin, solid and heavy, the thickness filling your palm as if it were made to fit there. He let you feel the rhythm, the way his fingers moved, the faint twitch beneath your touch.

Your breathing grew heavier without meaning to, each exhale trembling as you curled your fingers slightly, the smooth skin sliding under your palm. He was hot—almost too hot—and you could feel the steady pulse of him, strong and alive, making your own chest tighten with something you couldn't quite name.

You kept the motion going, finding a rhythm that matched the way he’d shown you. After a moment, his hand slipped away entirely, leaving yours alone to move over him. His head tilted back just slightly, lips parting, but his eyes stayed on you—lidded and hazy—as if he couldn't bear to look away.

"That's it... just like that," he murmured, voice rough and low, each word sinking into your skin like heat.

Something in you eased at the sound—made you bolder. You straightened a little on your knees, leaning in so you could brace your free hand on the solid muscle of his thigh. The warmth there seeped into your palm, and without thinking, your fingers traced a slow path over the skin, feeling the faint flex and shift beneath. You let yourself rest against him slightly, the closeness making your pulse jump.

His breath hitched, a soft, low moan slipping out before he caught it, his hips giving the smallest push into your hand. You felt the change instantly—slick warmth gathering at the tip, a bead of it spilling and trailing down over your fingers. It made your grip tacky, every stroke gliding smoother as you worked over him, the heat and weight in your palm impossible to ignore.

Then Telemachus let out a low, shaky groan, his hips twitching just barely into your hand. "Higher..." he breathed, his voice ragged but gentle, guiding your hand upward with a slight nudge. "Focus more... on the tip—yeah, right there."

You obeyed, tightening your fingers just a little as you shifted your strokes higher, giving him a slow squeeze right beneath the head. Barely two pumps in, you glanced up at him with wide eyes and asked softly, "Like that? Is that okay?"

The reaction was instant. He jerked—hard—and his hand shot down to still yours, pulling you away with sudden urgency. For a split second, panic flared in your chest, but the look on his face wasn’t shame—it was something else entirely. His cheeks were flushed a deep, almost feverish pink, and his eyes darted away as he turned his head, one hand covering his face.

You blinked, confused, until he groaned under his breath, peeking back at you through his fingers. "...It is," he managed to stammer, voice wrecked.

Leaning forward a little, you tilted your head. "Then... what's wrong?"

He gave a breathless, almost pained laugh, dropping his hand from his face as his eyes met yours again—dark, hot, and barely holding on. "If you keep looking at me like that, I'll embarrass us both."

You just hummed softly, fighting the smile pulling at your lips, before settling back and wrapping your hand around him again. This time you kept your gaze lowered, focusing on the slow, steady movement, your strokes slick and deliberate.

His moans started up again—low and unsteady—spilling into the warm, quiet air between you, each one sending another shiver down your spine.

The longer you worked him, the more Telemachus' control seemed to unravel. His hips twitched with every pass of your hand, tiny, involuntary thrusts that made the slick glide between your fingers messier, wetter. The soft, tacky sound of it mixed with the warm, breathless groans pouring from his throat—sometimes your name, sometimes curses low enough that you only caught the rough edges of them.

The heat of him seemed to bleed into you, creeping up your arms and settling low in your stomach until you realized your own thighs were pressing together, rubbing just slightly with each shift of your knees. Your breathing had picked up without you noticing, every inhale shaky, every exhale catching in your throat.

Your focus stayed on him—on the way his head tipped back when you hit the right spot, on the little stutters in his breath when your thumb teased just under the head, on the sticky dribble slicking your hand as he grew heavier in your palm.

You were so caught in it—so utterly wrapped up in watching him—that you didn't even notice yourself leaning closer until you were right there, close enough to see the faint pulse of a vein along the side of him, to feel the heat rolling off his skin in waves.

Some reckless, curious part of you wondered—what would he taste like? Would the heat under your palm be the same on your tongue? Would it be as heavy, as startling, when your lips touched him instead of your hand? The thought was enough to make your stomach flip, heat pooling low in your belly.

You dared a quick glance up at him. Telemachus' head was tipped all the way back, throat bared, chest rising and falling in deep, uneven pulls of breath. Every few seconds, a groan—low, drawn out—slipped past his lips, his voice breaking in places like he couldn't quite hold it together.

Before you could stop yourself, before you could even think to second-guess, you leaned in. Just a careful, tentative brush of your mouth against him, a kitten lick along the tip before your lips closed in a small, shy suckle. The taste was warm, faintly bitter, sharp in a way that made your tongue tingle.

Telemachus gasped—loud, ragged—his back arching as his hips jolted forward in a sudden, uncontrolled stutter. The reaction was so sharp, so immediate, that it startled you, and before you could even decide if you wanted to do it again, his hands were on you, gently but firmly pulling you back, his chest rising fast as if he'd just been dragged from the edge of something he wasn't ready to tumble over.

Telemachus' grip lingered for a moment, his palms warm against your skin as if he needed that steady hold to ground himself. His head dipped slightly, breath shuddering out through parted lips. You could hear him mumbling under his breath—half to himself, half to you—as if trying to talk his pulse back down.

"Gods..." he exhaled, tilting his head, a slow smile tugging at his mouth. It was tired, but not in a weary way—in that slow, deliberate, dangerous way that made your stomach flip. His eyes dragged over you, still dark and heavy, and his voice came low, rough.

"...I don't want to... finish too soon," he murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking like he was both warning you and making a promise. We can try that another time... promise."

Before you could answer, he bent at the waist, one hand lifting to lightly cradle the bottom of your chin, his thumb brushing along the edge. The touch was soft—reverent almost—and it held you there just long enough for him to press a quick, warm kiss to your lips. Then, with a quiet hum, he eased you back, guiding you down onto the mattress.

Your spine sank into the bed, the sheets cool under you, and in the next breath he was there again—settled between your thighs, his presence crowding out everything else. The space between you closed in until it was nothing but heat, the scent of rain still clinging to him, and the heavy sound of your mingled breaths filling the warm, quiet air.

His breath was warm against your skin as he dipped his head, the tip of his nose brushing along the slope of your neck. You shivered when his lips followed, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your jaw. Every so often, his tongue flicked out, tasting your skin as though he couldn’t help himself, leaving tingles in his wake.

"I have to prepare you for me..." he murmured, the words low and rough, ghosting against your ear.

His hands slid down your sides in slow, deliberate strokes, the heat of his palms burning through the thin fabric. He squeezed lightly at your hips before guiding your knees up, urging you to cradle his waist. The movement pulled him closer, pressing the solid weight of his body into yours, his warmth seeping into every inch of you.

"Relax for me," he whispered against your ear, his voice coaxing and almost pleading.

One of his hands drifted lower, slipping between your thighs. The first gentle press of his fingers there had you exhaling shakily, hips twitching despite yourself. You hooked one leg higher over his hip, letting him in without thinking, and his fingertips found that sensitive spot—your nub—rubbing slow, careful circles that sent a deep, aching warmth curling low in your stomach.

Telemachus' voice came soft and sweet above you, the kind of tone that made your chest feel warm and shaky all at once. "Am I... doing okay?" he murmured, like he was afraid to break whatever spell had wrapped around you both.

You managed a hum, though it trembled, your lips parting on a shaky breath. He smiled faintly, brushing his nose against your temple. "Good... because I'm about to stretch you out a little."

The words had your stomach twisting, anticipation and nerves tangling together. Before you could think too hard about it, you felt his fingers drift lower, parting you gently before pressing in.

A startled gasp slipped out—your hips twitching at the strange, unfamiliar fullness. It felt... weird at first, the pressure foreign, but his warm mouth pressed to your cheek, then your jaw, his voice spilling in low, steady murmurs against your skin, kept you from tensing.

And then—gods—he found it. That spot inside you that made your breath catch and your thighs twitch. Heat flooded through you, slick quickly gathering as his fingers worked with slow, deliberate care.

"That's it," he cooed low into your ear, his breath hot, "there you go..."

Your head tipped back at the sound of his voice, your nails curling lightly into his shoulders as you moved against his touch without meaning to. It wasn't until his mouth latched onto the side of your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to make you gasp, that his hand finally stilled and he pulled back—your skin tingling and your pulse racing.

Telemachus finally lifted his head, your skin still buzzing where his mouth had been. His lips were flushed, his breathing heavy as he lingered over you for just a moment longer before pulling back completely.

The loss of his warmth made you whimper before you could stop yourself, watching as he stepped away from the bed. His movements were unhurried, almost deliberate, as he crossed to the small table near the wall. You followed him with your eyes, chest rising and falling, still catching your breath.

He picked up a small vial, working the cork free with a quiet pop. The rich, earthy scent of the oil reached you even from where you lay, and your stomach fluttered when you saw him pour some into his palm. His long fingers glistened as he rubbed it over himself, his touch slow, almost teasing—like he was giving you the chance to watch every second of it.

By the time he returned to the bed, your pulse had quickened again. He knelt between your thighs, his knee nudging one open just a bit farther, the heat of him radiating against your skin.

His hand wrapped around himself, stroking lazily for a few seconds more before he leaned forward. The first brush of his tip against you made your breath stutter—warm, slick, and heavy. He slid it up and down your slit in slow, deliberate passes, smearing your wetness over himself.

Your leg twitched on instinct, toes curling at the sensation, and his eyes flicked up to catch the movement. He lingered like that for a few moments longer—drawing out every brush, every shiver—before finally tilting himself down, the head pressing gently against your entrance.

Telemachus' gaze lifted to yours, his eyes dark but searching, and for a moment, neither of you moved. "Are you ready?" his voice was low, almost shaking with how much he was holding back. "Are you... okay?"

Your breath caught, your chest rising fast, and you managed a breathless, "Yes."

He held your thighs a little tighter, his knuckles pale against your skin, and eased forward—slowly, carefully. The stretch made you tense, a faint sting sparking under the warmth, and you bit your lip hard to keep from gasping too sharp.

He froze instantly, head dipping low as if grounding himself. "T-Tell me if it's too much, he murmured, his voice unsteady but firm, almost like a vow. "I'll stop. I swear to the gods, I'll stop."

That care—that dominance laced with control—made your throat tighten. You shook your head quickly, voice pitching high, "No—yes—yes, I'm okay... keep going."

His grip shifted, thumbs stroking over your skin in silent reassurance as he pushed in deeper, each inch stealing the air from your lungs. Your body slowly softened around him, and a low, shaky groan spilled from his throat at the feeling.

When his hips finally pressed flush to yours, both of you let out sounds that tangled together—your breathless moan and his deep, throaty groan filling the warm air between you.

"You good?" he asked again, his eyes locked on yours like the answer meant everything.

You swallowed hard, nodding fast, voice almost breaking, "Just—move... please."

He started slow—good slow—the kind of pace that let you feel every inch of him, the heat, the weight, the way he filled you so completely. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and it took you a moment to realize he was murmuring your name in between soft, shaky moans.

The sound made your stomach clench, and before you even thought about it, your body did too—tightening around him. His breath caught, and a low, rough growl vibrated against your neck as his hand gripped your thigh tighter, hitching it higher around his hip like he couldn’t get deep enough.

"Gods..." he groaned, the word breaking as his hips drove forward harder. The slow rhythm started to crack, his thrusts coming sharper, more urgent, and each one knocked the air out of you in a shuddering gasp.

His sounds—moans, half-choked breaths, the occasional curse—poured against your ear and down your spine, making every nerve in you hum. The warmth in your stomach swelled with each push and pull, his body heavy and hot over yours, the bed creaking faintly beneath the both of you.

Your mind blurred until there was nothing left but the feeling of him—the stretch, the heat, the way he held you like you were something he couldn't let go of. Everything else once again—the fire, the rain, the quiet—fell away until there was only Telemachus, and the way he was making you feel.

Telemachus bent lower over you, his grip firm as he hooked one of your legs high around his waist, opening you up to him even more. The change in angle made you gasp, your fingers curling into the sheets, and then his mouth was on yours—hot, desperate, messy.

It wasn't a neat kiss. It was all heat and need, his lips sliding against yours, breaths mingling, the occasional soft sound slipping between you when he caught your bottom lip and sucked. His hips rocked into you with every kiss, slow enough to make you feel it deep, but hard enough to make your toes curl.

His hands wandered—everywhere—running along your sides, over the curve of your hip, then sliding up under your tunic. He kept pushing it higher and higher, his palms warm against your bare skin until they found your breasts. He cupped them fully, thumbs brushing over your nipples until your back arched into him.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he tugged the tunic up and over your head, tossing it somewhere beside the bed without looking. His mouth dropped to your neck instantly, hot and wet, leaving open-mouthed kisses and little sucks that made your skin tingle and your breath hitch.

"T-Telemachus." You gasped his name, the sound breaking into a stutter as his mouth moved against your skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair without thinking, nails lightly scraping his scalp.

You didn't even realize it was coming until it hit you—your whole body tightening, a choked moan spilling from your lips as your legs locked around his waist. The rush of it stole your breath, heat blooming fast and sharp low in your stomach before spreading everywhere, leaving you shivering under him.

Telemachus' hips faltered, then jerked rougher, his voice breaking into a curse as he buried his face in your neck. He pulled back just in time, the sudden emptiness making you whine before you felt the warm splatter of him across your stomach. It was hot, startling in its intensity, and your eyes blinked wide in surprise.

You let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. "Was I really that good?"

His answering grin was flushed and tired as he reached for your discarded tunic, wiping your stomach with careful, unhurried swipes. Once you were clean, he tossed it aside again and collapsed beside you, still catching his breath, the bed dipping under his weight.

He rolled onto his side to face you, and you mirrored him without thinking, the two of you lying there in the soft afterglow, the air warm with the smell of sweat and rain. For a while, neither of you spoke—just the sound of your breathing evening out, eyes locked as if you were trying to memorize each other.

When Telemachus finally did speak, his voice was gentle, almost hesitant. "How... did you end up here? Working at the brothel?" There was no judgment in it, no sharp edge—just quiet curiosity, like he wanted to understand.

You froze, your fingers curling into the sheets between you. The question hung in the air, heavier than the storm outside. But slowly, you let yourself answer.

"I was just... a regular Ithacan girl," you began, your voice low. "My mother died giving birth to me. My father... he never came home from Troy. So my grandparents raised me. We had a farm—nothing big, just enough to get by."

You swallowed, looking away. "They got sick when I was about fifteen. I tried to take care of them, but... they were gone within months. I lost them. Lost the farm. And that was it."

Your lips twisted faintly, though there was no humor in it. "Even though I was young—still a virgin—I had nothing. No dowry, no family. No one was going to take me as a wife. And even if they wanted to, who's to say they'd believe I was untouched?"

You hesitated, then let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Before I came here, there was this young low-lord who showed some interest in me. But another girl wanted him, too. She spread rumors—said I'd already been with men, that I'd been... sullied. It didn't matter that it wasn't true. The rumor stuck... It always does."

You met his eyes again, something raw flickering in your chest. "So I chose this. The brothel. At least here, I could have some control... however grim it was."

Silence filled the room again, thicker this time. He didn't rush to fill it, didn't tell you you were wrong or pity you. He just looked at you, as if weighing every word you'd said, and the quiet stretched like a held breath.

Telemachus' gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer before he finally looked away, his jaw shifting as though he was chewing over words that wouldn't come easily. When they did, they came low and rough.

"...I'm sorry."

Your brows furrowed faintly. "For what?"

"I didn't think," he admitted, eyes fixed somewhere near your shoulder instead of your face. "I only saw you. Not what you had to lose to be here."

You tried to wave it off with a small shrug, your voice softer. "You're a man. How could you know?"

His head turned back toward you, expression sharpening—not with anger, but with a kind of quiet conviction. "I'm not just a man," he said, voice steady in a way that made the words sit heavier in the air. "I'm a prince. If I can't imagine the lives of my people... if I can't put myself in their shoes, feel what they feel—then I'm not fit to lead them."

For a moment, neither of you moved. The weight of his words made something twist in your chest—because he meant it, you could see that. Eventually, his hand shifted, brushing your arm in a gesture that felt more like a promise than comfort.

When he spoke again, his voice had taken on a different timbre—not as a lover lying in your bed, but as the man who would one day wear a crown. "I want you to leave here," he said plainly. "Move into the palace."

You blinked at him, startled. "As what? You know what people will say—"

"As my concubine," he interrupted, not flinching from the word. "It's not marriage. I know that. And I won't pretend it would make you my equal in the eyes of everyone. But there are protections—real ones. Laws that keep you safe."

He shifted closer, his tone firm but earnest. "Draconian law says a man can kill anyone who tries to take what's his—even a concubine. No one could touch you without answering to me. You'd have a place. Food. A home. And you wouldn't be hidden away in some dark corner."

His gaze softened just slightly. "I want you safe. I want you seen. And if I'm not allowed to love you openly..." His thumb brushed against your jaw. "...then I'll make it as close as I can."

Your lips parted, but nothing came out at first—just a small, shaky exhale. The offer sat between you, heavy and almost unreal, and you could feel your pulse hammering in your throat.

"Why would you..." You swallowed hard, brows knitting. "You're too important, Telemachus. You can't— I'm... I'm just—"

The rest of the sentence never made it past your tongue. His mouth was on yours before you could finish, warm and sure, silencing every protest you tried to form.

When he pulled back just far enough to speak, his breath brushed against your lips. "You're not 'just' anything," he said, almost fierce. "You're mine... if you let me."

You stared at him, wide-eyed, his words echoing in your head. Mine... if you let me. Your thoughts spun so fast you could hardly keep up. Do I even deserve this? After everything—after where I've been, what I've done—how could I?

And yet... the way he looked at you, as if none of it mattered, made the question feel smaller.

Your answer wasn't words.

You leaned in, closing the space between you, your lips pressing to his again—soft at first, then deeper, steadier. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you there like he'd never let you go.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were smiling—quiet, secret smiles meant only for each other.

This time, there was no hesitation. You'd made your choice.

“And I’m not saying Courtney went feral during the improv challenge, but when she climbed onto the table, screamed ‘I’M YOUR NEW GOD NOW,’ and tried to baptize Damien with a Capri Sun? That’s not ‘yes and’—that’s ‘arrest her.’”

Spencer snorted softly, curled up beside you on the Smosh green room couch.

He didn’t say anything. Just leaned his cheek on his knuckles and watched you with that tiny half-smile that meant he was enjoying this, even if his mouth didn’t move much. But his eyes—his eyes were soft, full of the kind of quiet love that didn’t need words. Like there was nowhere else he’d rather be than next to you, listening.

“And THEN,” you continued, shifting to face him better, “Emily tried to de-escalate with the puppy voice, which just made it worse, and honestly? At that point, we all deserved chaos.”

“You always choose violence,” Spencer murmured.

“I choose accuracy.” You sipped your drink. “Anyway. I haven’t even told you what happened after filming. Do you wanna guess how many times Shayne dropped his mic?”

Spencer tilted his head. “Three?”

“Five. Five. One of them bounced into a plant. It’s in the blooper reel.”

He grinned. Still quiet. Still watching.

And you knew this rhythm by now.

You yapped. You rambled. You ping-ponged from story to insult to theory, sometimes circling back like a walking Google rabbit hole, like if Wikipedia got caffeine and a personality. And Spencer? Spencer sat with you in it. Always listening and always nodding at just the right moment. Always smirking when you hit a particularly unhinged punchline, like he’d been waiting for it the whole time. He never interrupted. Never rushed you. Just watched you like you were his favorite show, soaking in every wild tangent like it made perfect sense. Like your voice was the best background noise the world had to offer—and maybe the main event, too.

You paused for a beat. “I talk too much.”

Spencer blinked. “No, you don’t.”

You gave him a look.

“Okay, you talk a lot,” he amended, eyes warm. “But it’s never too much.”

Your stomach flipped.

You tried to hide it with sass. “You know, most people would say ‘shut up’ by now.”

“I’m not most people,” he said simply.

And that… made something in your chest tug.

You softened. “You ever get tired of listening to me?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“Even when I rant about my neighbor’s emotional support chinchilla at 2 a.m.?”

“That was riveting.”

“Even when I psychoanalyze everyone’s childhood via their Starbucks orders?”

He smiled. “I still think about Shayne’s being a cry for help.”

You laughed, warm and caught off guard.

Spencer reached out—quietly, slowly—and brushed his fingers against yours on the couch. You blinked at him.

“I like your voice,” he said.

You stilled.

“It’s not just the stories or the jokes,” he went on, gaze focused, steady. “It’s you. You could read the back of a cereal box, and I’d still sit here like it was a movie.”

Your face heated. “...You’re literally in a room with trained comedians.”

“I’m aware.” He leaned in a little. “Still only listening to you.”

You bit your lip, heart stuttering.

“You gonna kiss me or just compliment me to death?”

His voice dropped, low and teasing. “You gonna let me?”

You didn’t answer. Just leaned in and kissed him like you’d been waiting through three seasons and two spin-offs.

His hand caught the side of your face halfway through, steady and careful, like he couldn’t believe this was real—but wasn’t about to let it go. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t clumsy. It was exactly right—warm and a little dizzying, like laughing too hard in the sun.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, eyes still half-lidded, Spencer just smiled.

That soft, crooked little smile like you’d just handed him the moon.

“You good?” you asked, voice low.

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, still looking at your mouth. “Gimme a sec. My brain's doing the Windows loading wheel thing.”

You laughed, giddy and flushed.

He tucked a hand behind your knee, squeezing gently. “Okay. Yeah. I'm fine. Great, actually. You kissed me. That's… illegal levels of cool.”

You grinned. “I’ll confess later.”

Spencer leaned in again, forehead pressed to yours. “No rush. I’m a patient man....You’re gonna have so much to say about this, huh?”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely. Buckle up.”

He nodded.

“Cool,” he said softly. “I’m listening.”

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Nervous wasn’t quite the right word for what you were feeling. No. What curled in your stomach, tight and sharp, was closer to despair. The kind that clings. Embarrassment too, maybe. And a little self-loathing, dusted over everything like powdered sugar on something too sweet.

People were trickling into the bar you’d rented, a grungy little place with flickering lights and sticker-covered walls, each one a memory someone left behind. You said it was for your special birthday. Twenty-five. A number that sounded important if you said it with enough conviction.

Your brother had given you a look when you made the announcement. Quiet, but questioning. He didn’t say anything, just sipped his drink like he was waiting for the punchline. You’d never thrown yourself a party before.

Across the room, Nico and Riley were tucked into a corner booth, their heads tilted toward each other like a secret. The light above them buzzed softly, catching just enough of their faces to make it look like a stage. Like they were performing being young and happy. You should’ve been over there too. Laughing. Pretending to be carefree. But instead, your eyes kept drifting back to the door.. You stared like it might open for you if you just put your mind to it hard enough.

Like he might walk through it.

A hand landed on your shoulder, jarring you out of it. Too hard. Too warm.

“Kiddo,” your dad said, offering you a beer. Cold enough to make your skin flinch. “Having a good night?”

You forced a smile, wide enough to fool someone who loved you too much.

“Yeah. Thanks, Dad. I’m so glad everyone came.”

Well. Everyone didn’t come. 

He hummed, draped an arm across your shoulder. For a second, it felt like being five again, when the world was small and soft and safe.

Then you said it. Quiet and casual. “Did you invite Joel?” You took a sip to hide the way your mouth twisted when you said his name.

“Yeah,” he replied, not noticing. “Hope that’s alright with you. Figured I needed someone who drinks at my pace. Can’t keep up with you young folks anymore.”

He nodded toward the crowd, downing shots like they were racing death.

You laughed—dry, polite. If your dad knew, if anyone knew, that this entire night, this birthday, this guest list, this location, had been stitched together just to get Joel Miller into a room with you again…

Well. They’d probably send you somewhere with padded walls.

And maybe they’d be right. Because even now, with all this noise and warmth around you, all you could think about was the last time you saw him. The way he stood in his doorway, arms crossed, mouth tight. The way he said it couldn’t happen anymore. The way you begged.

Pathetic.

The way he said you had your whole life ahead of you, and he’d already lived his. The way he never looked back.

“Sure you’re alright?” your dad asked, voice dipping into something softer. “You seem kinda… far away.”

You blinked, smiled again, this time with teeth. “I’m fine. Just really happy. And maybe a little tipsy.”

You added a giggle on top, like a cherry.

Then you kissed his cheek and slipped toward the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind you like a final note.

You pressed both palms to the edge of the sink, bracing yourself like the floor might give out. The mirror in front of you offered no comfort, just your own face, too aware of how carefully you’d prepared for this night.

The dress was the one he liked. He told you once, offhandedly, that it drove him crazy. Said he worried all the “boys” would trip over their own feet trying to stare.Your lips curled at the memory, though it hurt.

Nico had done your makeup. Nothing too loud, just enough to make your eyes look bigger, brighter. Like a version of yourself you could almost believe. A single tear slid down your cheek, catching your mascara on its way down, leaving behind a delicate black streak. Like a special effect in a Hollywood movie. The kind where the girl falls apart beautifully. You wiped it away with the edge of your thumb, careful not to smudge the rest.

Heartbreak wasn’t new. You’d had college flings, boys with kind smiles and forgettable names. But none of them had ever looked at you like Joel did.

No one had touched you like he had, hands firm, reverent, like your body was a song he didn’t want to forget the words to. No one had kissed you slow, full of guilt and wanting, like he did when the door was locked and the world was far away.

And no one had ended it like he did either.

You still remembered the last time. His front door already cracked open, his jaw tight. The way he rubbed his face like he was trying to wake up from something.

“This has to stop,” he’d said. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You begged. You didn’t even try to hide it.

Asked why.

He said the words you already knew: the age, your dad, the life you were still building and the one he’d already spent.

You could still feel the echo of that moment in your ribs.

And now here you were—at a birthday part you didn’t want, in a dress you picked for a man who said goodbye, trying to hold your body together in a bathroom that smelled like beer and old soap. You dabbed at the corners of your eyes one last time and forced yourself to breathe. Then you opened the door.

The noise hit you like a wave—laughter, clinking bottles, bass thrumming low through the floor. Your father was waving at someone near the entrance, half-shouting over the music. “Look who finally showed up!”

But you didn’t need to look. You felt it. The air changed. He always did that—shifted the atmosphere like some kind of storm front. You turned, slow, and there he was.

Joel Miller.

That flannel—his flannel—was the one you’d picked out for him once, at some small store on a rainy afternoon. He wore it like he didn’t even realize. Like he wasn’t still wrapped in the memory of you. He didn’t look at you at first. But you could feel his eyes—skimming the room, skipping over you, then circling back. Your throat tightened. Like you’d swallowed a stone. One of those heavy ones that lined the edge of your dad’s backyard pond.

Still, you moved. Like prey too stunned to know it was walking toward the hunter.

He stepped forward, finally meeting your gaze. And you could see it, something behind the eyes. Regret, maybe. Or worse: want.

“Hey, kid,” he said, soft. “Another year older, huh? Happy birthday.”

He held out a hand like you were strangers meeting at a dinner party.

You took it. Shook it. A nod was all you could manage.

“I uh—got you a present,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s out in the truck. You got a second?”

He scratched the back of his neck. He couldn’t look at you when he said it.

Joel Miller, nervous. What a sight.

You wanted to scream. To tell him no, that you didn’t need whatever apology-shaped object he’d left on his passenger seat. That you were doing fine, thank you very much. That he could go live his grown man life and leave you in peace.

But instead, you nodded. “Sure.”

He turned, walked through the crowd. You followed—threading your way past your friends, smiling too hard, touching shoulders like you belonged, like you weren’t unraveling at the seams.

—

Outside, it was quiet. Not peaceful, just still. A hoot echoed in the distance. An owl, or whatever fucking kind of bird thought it was a good idea to sing its heart out in the middle of the night. The gravel crunched beneath Joel’s boots—slow, steady, heavy. Not once did he glance back to check if you were following. Not once did he slow down.

So you trailed behind him, obedient and ridiculous, like some loyal dog too stupid to realize it had been left behind weeks ago.

His truck was parked in the back lot, tucked between two tall trees like it didn’t want to be found. Finally, he stopped. Turned. Looked. So you did the same. Stopped. Turned. Looked. Like two strangers in a standoff, unsure of what to say now that the war had already been lost.

“You’re bein’ distant,” he muttered. No soft greetings, no dad-approved handshakes, no pretending this was casual.

He had that voice again, the one he used only with you. Lower. Quieter. Trying to sound gentle, like you were a thing that might break. And god, you hated it. Or maybe you didn’t.

“Am I?” you snapped, arms crossed over your chest like armor. “Guess I didn’t notice, what with all the life I’ve been so busy living lately.”

It was early autumn, the kind of cold that seeps through your dress and sinks straight into your bones. You hugged yourself tighter, trying to hold in the warmth, or whatever scraps of it were left.

Joel stepped to the side of the truck and popped the door. Without a word, he pulled out one of his jackets. He walked over and laid it over your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You should’ve shrugged it off. You should’ve told him to fuck off. But it smelled like him. Smoke and cedar and wood shavings. Like safety. Like the last place you’d felt wanted.

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

He nodded once, jaw working.

“So what?” you asked. “You drag me all the way out here just to tell me I’ve been weird? Because newsflash, Joel, getting your heart broken a little tends to do that to a girl.”

You turned, ready to head back. Ready to reenter the noise and neon and pretend like you hadn’t just stood wrapped in his scent like some sad little footnote.

But then—his hand. On your wrist. Gentle, but firm. A tug, not a pull.

“Wait.” His voice cracked, soft. “Please. Just five minutes. That’s all I’m askin’. Please. Baby.”

You looked up. His eyes were wide, glassy. Begging. And goddammit, those eyes. You hated how easy they made it.

“Fuck,” he whispered, like the word hurt coming out. “You think this past month was easy for me? You think I liked avoiding you like I was made of stone? I think about you all day, every day. First thing in the morning, last thing before I sleep. And every time, I tell myself it’s wrong. That I shouldn’t. That I can’t.”

He laughed, humorless. Rubbed a hand over his face, then pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to make the world stop spinning.

“But still,” he continued, voice raw, “your face shows up. Everywhere. I see your eyes when I close mine, baby. I hear your voice in my head when things get quiet. I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.”

You didn’t think. Just reached for his hand, the one still half-hiding his face. Slid your fingers into his, gently lowered both to his chest. He let go. Just long enough to pull you in.

His arms wrapped around you like they’d never let go again. Tight, like he thought someone might come rip you away if he wasn’t careful. His face buried in your hair. Your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his shirt, the beat of his heart steady and real beneath it.

Maybe you imagined it, but it felt like yours was flipping, twisting, leaping in your chest. Like it recognized something. Or someone. Maybe it was love. Or maybe it was a car crash you were finally letting happen.

You stood there for god knows how long.

There was a brief flicker in the back of your mind, someone might come looking. Nico, maybe. Or your brother. But the thought passed, unimportant.

Maybe it would’ve been easier if someone did see. If they caught you like this, wrapped in his jacket, pressed to his chest like something sacred. Then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore. It would be out, and the world would just have to deal with it.

Joel let go first. Again. He stepped back, rubbed the back of his neck like he was stalling for courage, then ducked into the truck. When he reappeared, he was holding a small box. Wrapped. Badly. Like he’d tried. Like he’d started, stopped, tried again, given up halfway through but still finished because it had to be done.

He held it out to you like it weighed something more than it should. You took it carefully. 

Bit by bit, you peeled away the paper, slow and precise, revealing a silky green box, inside a delicate silver necklace. A small green stone shimmered in the center, soft and earthy, like a forest in spring.

On the back, an initial. Your initial.

“Joel…” your voice caught in your throat. “This is—this is beautiful.”

For what felt like the hundredth time that night, your eyes filled with tears. This time, you didn’t bother wiping them away.

He took the chain from your fingers, stepping behind you. One hand reached up, brushing your hair gently to the side. His fingers skimmed over the back of your neck, and every hair on your body stood up like it had been waiting for that exact moment. Goosebumps bloomed beneath his touch. He leaned forward, carefully clipping the clasp behind your neck. His fingers were steady. Gentle. Familiar.

Then, just as gently, he guided your hair back into place, like it was something he’d done before, like he already knew the shape of you by heart.

“I made it,” he said softly, voice low near your ear. “Made it whenever I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. When nothing else would get you outta my head, I worked on this. Just kept imagining what it’d be like—giving it to you.”

It didn’t matter anymore. Who might see. What it meant. How much worse this would make the ache.

You couldn’t help it.

You turned—fast, reckless—and kissed him.

At first, it was soft. A whisper of lips. A question. He didn’t respond right away. Just stood there, frozen.

But then, something in him snapped. His hand shot up, fingers sinking into your hair, the other gripping your cheek like he needed to anchor himself to the moment. He kissed you back, open-mouthed, desperate. Sloppy in a way that made your knees weak. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.

It was need. Hot and raw and a month too late.

He walked you backward, mouth never leaving yours, hands roaming your sides like he couldn’t remember where to start. Hips, waist, thighs. He pressed into the soft skin beneath your dress, thumbs brushing the hem of your underwear, knuckles dragging across your bare skin like he couldn’t help himself. The dress rode up with every step. And just before your back could hit the cold metal of the car, he opened the door, fast and smooth, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

You fell into the back seat, breathless. The leather stuck to your skin, warm now, suffocating. You barely had a second to register it before Joel climbed in after you, mouth crashing against yours again like he was trying to memorize the taste.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered between kisses, voice hoarse. “I missed you. I fucking missed you.”

His lips moved down to your neck, biting softly, soothing the sting with his tongue. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, nails digging through the fabric of his flannel. You felt him everywhere. His weight, his breath, the grip of his hands tracing your thighs, your ribs, the place just under your chest like he couldn’t pick what he wanted to touch most. His hips pressed into yours, slow, deliberate, like he wanted to feel the exact shape of you again. Like he was trying to remember what it felt like to have you wrapped around him, pulling him apart.

“This isn’t right,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, hands still running up your thighs like he couldn’t stop. “But I don’t care. I can’t stay away from you. I tried. God, I fucking  tried, Baby. My Girl.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him back to your mouth.

“Then don’t,” you whispered. “Don’t try anymore.”

The windows had already started to fog.

Joel was above you, heavy breaths warming the space between your lips. His hands trembled slightly where they gripped your hips, like he was holding back from devouring you whole.

You reached up, brushed your fingers along the edge of his jaw. “You don’t have to—”

But he cut you off, voice gravel-dark.

“I want to.”

Then, slower—deeper. “I need to.”

He kissed your inner thigh first. Just above your knee. Then higher. Then higher again. Every touch was reverent, like he was making up for lost time. Or maybe punishing himself for the month he spent trying not to think about what you tasted like. When he got to your panties, he breathed in. Breathed. Like your scent knocked the breath from his chest.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, dragging them down with one hand while the other held your leg open, gently but firmly, like he wasn’t taking chances this time.

“You’re already so wet, baby. So wet for me, pretty girl.” he muttered, like it hurt him. “So fuckin’ sweet…”

And then his mouth was on you. No teasing. No slow build. He buried himself between your thighs like a man starved, like he hadn’t touched anyone in the time he was gone because there was only you. Tongue flat, wide, dragging through your folds like he wanted to live there. You gasped, head hitting the seat back, one hand scrambling for the fogged window, the other sinking into his hair.

Joel groaned—groaned—like the sound of your moan alone made him harder. He doubled down, tongue circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth, messy and obscene, the wet sounds echoing in the tight heat of the car.

“F-Fuck—Joel—”

He grunted against you, holding your thighs wide open, almost shaking with restraint as he devoured you like something holy. Like your pleasure was the only thing that existed.

You looked down at him, breath hitching, and when your eyes met, he held your stare as he licked a slow, thick stripe from your entrance to your clit again. Then—again. And again.

“You taste like a fuckin’ dream,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “My fuckin’ dream.”

You whimpered, hips bucking against his mouth. He growled and pushed them down, holding you still, not letting you move—he was in charge here, and he was going to ruin you on his tongue.

“Daddy—” The word slipped out. Not planned. Just felt. Joel froze. Just for a second. Then looked up at you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide. A slow smirk spread across his lips, chin slick with you.

“Say that again.”

You swallowed, chest heaving.

“Daddy, please…”

That was it. He lost it. His mouth was back on you, harder now, rougher, devouring your clit with filthy groans that vibrated straight through your core. His fingers joined his mouth, sliding inside you, two thick ones, curling in just the right place, dragging moans from your throat like confessions.

It was overwhelming. Hot and wet and frantic. Like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. And you didn’t want him to stop. Your body tightened, muscles trembling, orgasm building fast—too fast.

“Joel—I’m gonna—”

He didn’t let up. Just pinned your hips, looked up at you with fire in his eyes, and growled:

“Come for me, babygirl. You can do it. I got you sweet girl. Come for me now..”

And you did. Your whole body arched off the seat, thighs shaking, moans spilling past your lips like prayer, like ruin. He didn’t stop. Kept licking you through it—into it—drawing every last wave from you, humming softly against your clit like he wanted you to feel his pleasure too.

Only when your body slumped, boneless and wrecked, did he finally lift his head.

“You always taste this fuckin’ good?” he muttered, voice low and raw. “I fucking forgot what it felt like to be alive.”

The air inside the truck had gone heavy, thick with heat and breath and the weight of every second spent apart.

Joel sat back on his heels between your thighs, chest heaving, hair a little wild. He looked ruined already, and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. Your dress was still bunched at your waist, his jacket falling off one shoulder. The necklace he made you rested just above the swell of your chest, glinting in the dim cabin light. He looked at you like it hurt. Like you were too much and not enough all at once.

“I missed you,” he said, almost a whisper. “I missed you so fuckin’ bad it made me mean.”

You reached up, cupped his face, your thumb grazing that little crease beside his mouth. “Then do something about it.”

His eyes flickered, something bright, something dangerous. Then he moved.

He crawled over you, slow, like he was savoring it. The way your body opened for him. The way your knees spread wide, trembling, eager. He kissed you again, this time unhurried, deep, almost lazy. Like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. His cock pressed hard against your thigh, hot and heavy. You reached down to wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly, loving the way his breath hitched in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he muttered, breaking the kiss. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“No,” you whispered, guiding him lower. “Just bring you back to life.”

Joel braced one hand beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, dragging it around his waist. You felt the thick head of him nudge your entrance—hot, solid, perfect.

He didn’t push in yet. Just stayed there.

“Tell me you want this,” he said, voice hoarse. “Tell me to do it.”

You blinked up at him, lips parted, breath shaky. “I want it. I want you. Please, Joel. Please just fucking make yours again”

That was all he needed.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open in a way that made your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. He was big. He always was. And you felt every single bit of him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You feel even tighter than I remembered.”

Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into fabric and skin as he bottomed out, hips flush with yours. He stilled there, letting you adjust, forehead pressed against yours.

The silence stretched. Breathless. Electric.

He started to move. Slow at first, dragging his cock out until just the tip remained before slamming back in with a groan that made your whole body throb.

“Joel—”

He growled into your ear. “You gonna take it all, babygirl? Gonna take everything I give you? Fucking you with my big dick that you’re taking so well?”

You nodded helplessly, back arching, legs wrapping tighter around him as he started to fuck you in earnest. Rough, deep, steady. Every thrust deliberate. No teasing now. No games. Just months of need finally boiling over.

“Fucked my hand for weeks thinkin’ about this pussy,” he rasped, biting down on your neck, licking over the mark he left. “But it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough.”

You whimpered, voice breaking. “Joel—please—harder—”

He obliged.

The rhythm turned punishing, his hips slamming into yours, the seat creaking beneath you, the windows fogged with sweat and heat and sin.

“Such a dirty fuckin’ girl,” he muttered. “Gettin’ fucked in the backseat like this, lettin’ Daddy make a mess of you. While everyone else is inside waiting for the birthday girl. She’s underneath me like a pretty little slut. This is probably the only birthday present you wanted huh?”

You moaned at the magic  word, loud, needy, and he smiled against your throat, feral and proud.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Say it again.”

“Daddy—”

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head, holding you in place as he drove into you harder, deeper, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot that had you writhing under him.

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Being Daddy’s little fucktoy. You gonna let me fill you up?”

You choked out a sound, half sob, half moan—nodding frantically. “Yes—fuck, yes—please, I want it. Wanna feel you inside me. Making me feel so good”

He reached between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it fast and rough, just the way he knew you liked. You were close, so close, your whole body coiling tighter, slick and soaked and made for him.

“I wanna feel you come, baby,” he grunted. “Wanna feel this pretty cunt milk my cock while I fill it up. Show me how much you missed me.”

That was it.

You shattered beneath him, crying out his name, whole body locking up as your orgasm crashed through you, leaving you shaking and gasping. Joel cursed, low and filthy, and then came inside you with a broken moan, cock pulsing deep as he held you tight, like he could press his heart right into your chest. He didn’t move. Just stayed there, breathing hard, face buried in your neck, whispering your name like a promise.

The truck was quiet now. Not silent, there was the sound of rain tapping softly on the roof, the distant hum of late-night traffic somewhere beyond the trees. But inside, the noise had stilled. Joel sat beside you, one hand resting on your thigh. His touch was light, absentminded, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. His thumb stroked in lazy circles over your skin, slow and steady, grounding. Your dress was rumpled, pushed halfway down your hips, his jacket still hanging from your shoulders. The air smelled like sex and sweat and his cologne.

You leaned your head against the window, skin cooling, breath finally evening out. Neither of you spoke.

The moment didn’t ask for words. It just was. Heavy and warm and full of something unspoken. You looked down at your chest, fingers finding the delicate silver chain. The necklace still sat there, the green stone catching the soft overhead light. Your initial pressed against your skin like it belonged there. You ran your fingertip over it, slow, thoughtful.

Joel saw. He didn’t say anything right away, just watched your hand, watched the way you touched something he made for you. Something he'd thought about while pretending he didn’t care.

Then, softly, almost like he was afraid the words might scare you away, he said, “Happy birthday.”

You looked at him. You smiled, small and real, the corners of your lips curling..

“Thanks,” you whispered.

He gave a small nod. Barely a movement. But he didn’t look away. Not this time. And you didn’t push. Didn’t ask what this meant. Didn’t ask if things were different now. You just sat there, legs tangled, his jacket around your shoulders and his come still inside you, and knew.

He was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere, not tonight.

—-

You stepped out of the truck first, legs still a little unsteady, dress sticking to your skin in places, hair slightly mussed from Joel’s hands, his mouth, his body. The air outside had cooled even more, autumn crisp and still. You inhaled, deeper than you meant to, like the moment needed anchoring. Joel came around the side of the truck and pulled the door shut behind him, eyes scanning the ground for a second before they lifted to meet yours. His face had softened, not entirely, but enough that you saw the shift. Something in his expression you hadn’t seen in weeks. A quiet, wordless promise: I'm here.

Neither of you said anything as you started walking back toward the bar. Gravel crunched beneath your shoes again, the low hum of music getting louder with every step. You adjusted his jacket around your shoulders, still warm from his body, and smoothed your fingers once more over the necklace resting just below your collarbone. The stone felt heavier now. Important.

Inside, the bar was just as loud and golden and smoky as you left it. The party hadn’t missed a beat. People were laughing over half-empty drinks, a group were now playing darts and heckling each other mercilessly, and your brother was waving a sparkler around in the corner with two girls you didn’t know. But as soon as you crossed the threshold, the attention shifted.

“There you are!” someone called from across the room. Riley, of course. Loud and nosy and already half a bottle deep. “Where the hell did you disappear to?”

You froze just slightly, lips parted, heat already rushing to your cheeks. Joel brushed past you then, moving through the crowd with a casualness that only just masked the tension in his shoulders. His hair was a little wild, his shirt untucked at the back, and there was still the faintest pink at the tips of his ears.

And then Nico joines. He took one look at Joel. Then at you. His eyes narrowed. Slowly. Like a cartoon villain putting two and two together. And then he screeched.

 “OH MY GOD—”

Your head snapped toward him, a hand shooting up, eyes wide. “Shut the fuck up.” You said it with all the fake venom you could manage, but the smile curling at the corner of your mouth betrayed you instantly. Riley’s mouth dropped open like she was about to explode, but she held it in, barely, eyes twinkling like she’d just been handed the juiciest gossip of her life. And she probably was.

You slipped past her quickly, cheeks burning, pretending to busy yourself with a forgotten drink someone handed you. Then the music changed, softened into a rhythm you recognized too late.

A cake appeared out of nowhere, glowing with too many candles. Someone dimmed the lights, and then, everyone was singing.

Happy birthday to you…

It was out of tune, too loud, voices competing for attention, but there was something warm and wonderful about it anyway.

You turned slowly, laughing through your mortification, hands half-covering your face, and then—

You felt it.

Joel’s hand.

Sliding around your waist from behind, slow and deliberate, fingers resting just above your hipbone. Not claiming. Not possessive. Just there.

Steady.

You didn’t look at him. Didn’t need to. You just leaned back a little, just enough that your shoulder brushed his chest, and let yourself exist in the moment—cake and candles and noise and his hand on you like maybe, just maybe, the space between you two didn’t need to be hidden anymore.

Happy birthday, dear you…

The song ended in applause, laughter, someone accidentally knocking over a beer. You didn’t hear much of it.

You just closed your eyes for a second. Smiled.

And felt the weight of his fingers tighten, just slightly, at your waist.

“I can’t stand to lose you, just the thought of it drives me insane, but I can’t be so selfish any longer.”

Finally, he turned his attention your way. With his elbows rested on his knees, his crouched form made him look smaller than he had ever appeared, “The decision to come with me is yours. Should you decide against it, I’ll leave you alone for as long as you need, even if that’s forever.”

Silence hung thick in the air, permeating your surroundings in a thick layer of tension. Stuck in such an uncharacteristic situation, you mulled over the state of affairs. Staring at the defeated man before you, a man you had known to always be so proud and domineering, was a shock. Even after his defeat at the hands of Toman’s leader, Taiju still had an heir of dignity about him. To witness him limp and meek, realizing that the weight of your decision hung so heavily upon him and that one sentence from you would be enough to save or break him, left you speechless.

‘Did I always hold this much power?’ the thought drifted into your head lackadaisically, ‘Who knew?’

“Fuck,” he cursed, the expletive breaking the all-encompassing silence, “Why is this shit always so hard? I’ve never been this on edge in my goddamn life. I know I sprang this on you out of nowhere, If you need time to think about it, I should have-“

“I’ll come with you.”

His head shot up at your words. Bright, hopeful eyes drank you in, desperately scouring your face for an affirmation that what he had just heard was the truth, and not some cruel misunderstanding his brain had contrived to trick him. You smirked at him, finding charm in catching a glimpse of a rarely flustered Taiju.

“I want to come with you and I will come with you, but…”

You gripped your hands in your lap, taking a deep breath to steel your resolve. The time had finally come to say the words that long needed to be said.

“Things need to change in order for me to do that. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep feeling like I am more a prisoner than your partner. If you have ever loved me at all, then I want you to please listen.”

Squaring your shoulders, you continued. “If you can promise me that you’ll work on reeling in your anger, that you will grow with me and not against me, and promise that I can have my family and friends back… Then I will stay. I want my life back Taiju, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you in it. I just want a normal relationship. Not as the girlfriend of a gang-leader who gets put on a pedestal and spends most of her time locked up, left to worry and fret as her man gets tied up in god knows what. I want to be Taiju Shiba’s girlfriend and go on normal boring dates while being able to walk down the street holding hands without having to worry if we are gonna end up in a gang war for simply existing out in public.”

You took a breath to reel yourself in before continuing, “I want to experience life’s highs and lows with you. All the daily annoyances and moments of happiness, I want you to be the one I share them with. I’m not some princess that needs to be locked away in a castle, I want you to have faith in me, have faith in my love for you, and let me live. Trust that I can take care of myself and support me and I promise to continue to supporting you. Really, that is all I have ever wanted for us.”

The words had barely left your lips when Taiju got to his feet, wasting no time in bridging the gap between you. Once before you, he fell to his knees, knocking the breath from you as he collapsed atop you, pulling you against him in the most constricting hug you had ever felt.

“I promise,” he blurted out, his shaky voice muffled as he smothered himself against you. “I promise to become a man worthy of your love, angel. I swear on God and all that I am.”

After the initial surprise subsided, you smiled down at him, gently stroking your fingers through his slightly disheveled tresses. Judging by the quiver of his shoulders and the slight dampness you now felt on your stomach, you were sure he was crying.

You held him, gently stroking him for as long as it took for him to calm down. Though his grip loosened, he never let go, keeping you in his embrace as if his life depended on it.

“…Nearly gave me a heart attack,” he finally murmured, “Cut the suspense next time, will you? Especially if you are just gonna end up giving in to me.”

An airy laugh escaped you, “I’m the one who gave in? You were pretty quick in changing your tune the moment I laid an ultimatum on the table.”

He scoffed, “Yeah well, it was kind of an all or nothing gamble for me. Either you would choose to come with me and I could start to work on getting my shit together, or you chose to leave me and I…”

His voice trailed off as he focused on a future that could have been, one in which you left him behind. It ate away at him, the worry that given your own choice you would leavehim, just as so many others had before. Even as the primary victim in his long standing spiral of personal issues, your heart ached whenever you thought about it. Under all that machismo Taiju was in pain, scared and hurting, just like everyone else.

“Well,” you sighed, ruffling his hair to try and lighten the mood, “At the very least you would have at least had a home to return to, it just would have been a little lonelier had I not made the decision I had.”

 “A home without you in it is no home at all.”

You were happy he remained nestled against your stomach, certain that if he had seen the red tinge that now peppered your cheeks that there would never be an end to the teasing.

You leaned in to plant a quick kiss atop his head, “Well then, it’s a good thing I made the right choice. It would be a little too heartbreaking to have you dumped AND homeless at the same time, right?”

After garnering an amused huff from him, you continued to speak. “You need to have a little more faith in me. I meant what I said when I told you you wouldn’t have to face this all alone. I’ll always stand by your side Taiju.”

~~~

From there, things began to change for the better.

Though decidedly much smaller and dingier than your previous abode, it was surprisingly peaceful having a place of your own with Taiju. But that didn’t mean you were without concerns, having some major reservations from the get-go over how everyday life would pan out now that it was just you and Taiju versus the world. Ties had been cut and bridges burnt, leaving you with no support besides each other- something that became painfully obvious once you had settled. The uncertainty of it all kept you up at night. Fretting over how rent would be paid and whether or not you would have enough left over for groceries and other expenditures plagued your every waking moment of those first few weeks.

But as you grew used to the environment and your new routine, those reservations began to vanish. Taiju’s love for fine dining landed him a job quickly. The owner of his favorite eatery was so taken with him during his interview that he hired him on the spot. Because of its penchant to attract wealthy clientele, the pay was good, even for someone who was brand new. It was so good in fact, that you were able to shift your focus back to school-something sorely needed, as you had A LOT of catching up to do.

With your academics starting to get back on track you realized it was time to confront the next hurdle-your family. For weeks you stewed on how you should approach them. Maybe a phone call, or should you be more ballsy and request to meet up in person? It all seemed horrifying. The thought of outright rejection, or worse, the facing the scorn of the past transgressions, was enough to have you second guessing everything. You mulled it over and over in your head, eventually deciding that a letter was the best (and safest) approach to this precarious situation.

Two were created, one for your family, and one for Tomoko. You wrote them, rewrote them, and rewrote them again, praying that through the chicken scratch and slightly incoherent ramblings that they would understand the depth of your regret and realize just how sorry you truly were. If your words could relay even a smidge of how much you missed them, you would be satisfied.

But uncertainty kept you from mailing them. They were both set to go, sitting front and center on the table by the door, postage firmly attached with their intended destinations clear and crisp atop the envelopes… but you couldn’t bring yourself to send them. They sat for days, mocking you each time you entered and left the house, taunting you cruelly when you reached out to grab them, only to chicken out and leave them as they were.

Until one day when they weren’t there at all.

Noticing your confusion, Taiju outted himself as the culprit rather quickly. You listened in increasing dismay as he explained that not only did he send out the letters before you had fully come to terms with mailing them, but he had actually hand delivered them both himself. A minor outburst of disbelief, dawning horror, and outright astonishment followed his confession. While watching you experience this myriad of emotions, Taiju knew he was now caught in a situation that required a full explanation.

He sighed in irritation, realizing that you wouldn’t let up until you received an adequate rundown of what had transpired. He lazily scratched the back of his head, taking a moment before speaking. “Look, you were taking too long, alright? Every night I saw you toil at your desk over those damn letters long after you should have been in bed with me. It was pissing me off, so I decided to read them one night to see what the hell was more important than being nestled by my side.”

Before you had the chance to retort, he continued, “But once I read them, what was I supposed to do? Here you are every night spilling your heart and soul out on this paper, writing and re-writing, erasing so much I’m surprised the paper doesn’t have holes, just in the hopes that your family will read it and understand you. Each word was like a punch in the gut and I wasn’t even the intended audience.  If it affected me like that, I knew your message would be understood by them, too. You wrote it with the intent of it reaching them, right? I just gave it the final push to get it there.”

Worry creased your brow “… Okay, I won’t deny needing a little push, but why didn’t you just mail it? Are you so mistrusting of the mail system, or were you just afraid I would resort back to cowardice and fish it out of the post box?”

A moment of silence passed as you waited for Taiju’s response. “You really can’t figure that part out on your own?” Was his eventual terse response, the slight red that graced his cheeks relaying his reluctance to elaborate on the matter.

“Enlighten me,” You spoke carefully, not wanting to agitate him to the point of no response. “I am still confused.”

More silence, then eventually, an extremely heavy sigh.

“I hand delivered it because I want to help fix the things in your life I destroyed, or at least make the attempt.” his face turned even redder, his eye contact fluctuating as he appeared to have a hard time focusing on you. “I still think your folks are a pain in the ass and I couldn’t care less about your shitty sister. How a family full of such stuck up assholes produced you is beyond me,”  He groaned, “ And don’t get me started on that Tomoko girl, your family was a fucking cake walk compared to her. I could barely get a word in edgewise with the conniption she was having over seeing me, it riles me up just thinking about it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the imagery. It was good to know that despite everything, your feisty ride or die was still ready to smack down for you.

“But you care about them, and I care about you,” Taiju continued, regaining his composure as he placed his hand atop your head, “If you want them in your life then they will be in your life. I would have to apologize to them sooner or later anyway, so I figured why not just get it over with all together?”

Tears burned your eyes, “Taiju… I don’t really know what to say. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he snorted, “I did the easy part. YOU actually have to talk to them now.”

~~~

That evening you heard your family’s voices for the first time in years. Instantly you delved into catching up. Laughing, crying, and joking, the conversation flowed so seamlessly that hours felt like minutes.  The longer you spoke on the phone the sillier you felt for worrying so much.  Of course your family missed you, it was in your mother’s tears, your fathers soothing words, and even your sister’s normally grumpy tone was light and pleasant as she filled you in on the recent happenings in her life. At the end of the call they invited you to dinner the following day, an invitation you were eager to agree to. You practically salivated at the thought of your mom’s home cooking, knowing she would pull out all the stops for your home coming.

A few days later, you received a text from Tomoko.

(11:03pm) From Tomz:

‘Check THIS out!’

An image of an impossibly tiny, incredibly fluffy dog engulfed your screen.  Tomoko’s hand held up the creatures little paw, making it look as if the puppy were waving you a cheerful little “hello!”. The dogs tongue lulled happily out the side of its mouth as it cocked its head goofily, staring into the camera with endearing chocolate eyes-it was enough to make your heart melt.  Coupled with Tomoko’s beaming, familiar smile, you were filled with an elation that was hard to describe.

 You wiped a tear from your eye. Of course Tomoko would pick things up like this, as if nothing had ever happened.

(11:03pm) From Tomz:

‘Say hello to our newest family member! He’s cute, right? I know. Takes after his mom (me) so ofc he’s adorbs.’

You laughed through your sniffles, typing a quick reply.

(11:05pm) From Me:

‘I can’t deny that he is very cute. He takes after his mom in more than one way, I have def seen that ditzy look on your face more than once…’

Her response came immediately.

(11:05pm) From Tomz:

‘Ha ha ha! Jokes on you tho, that ditzy look has gotten me out of answering a lot of hard questions in class. If you master it, the teachers eventually stop calling on you. Waste of time to even ask such a doofus and all that.’

(11:07pm) From Tomz:

‘Anyway, you gotta come meet him, he’s such a sweetheart, he’ll love you immediately!!! WARNING: He is EXTREMELY needy tho, so please come soon. He could quite literally die if you don’t give him attention. ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡’

(11:09pm) From Me:

 ‘I’ve committed many sins in my day, but causing the death of a puppy? Absolutely unforgiveable. (ᴗ_ ᴗ。) How could I live with myself if I let such a nice young man perish?’

(11:12pm) From Tomz:

‘Yeah and he’s not the only one dying from neglect over here (īī ^ īī) It’s been how many years since we’ve last hung out? A billion? That’s what it feels like. (Nick name) I’ve held on for as long as I can, but if we don’t see each other soon it will be RIP me and then you will just have to sob at my funeral, dreaming of what could have been…’

(11:14pm) From Me:

‘Seriously? I finally get the chance to apologize, fully intending to grovel at your feet while I beg for your forgiveness, doing all sorts of theatrics while making a scene to prove my point, and you are just gonna die before I get the chance to? Nah, I don’t think so. Forget sobbing at your funeral, if you croak before I make it to you I’ll just make a deal with a devil or something to bring you back. I have too much to make up for to let you go that easily.’

Minutes passed, and you wondered if she had fallen asleep. A vibration drew your eyes back to the screen.

(11:31pm) From Tomz:

‘I fucking missed you so much.’

On impulse, your thumb smashed the call button. Her tinkling laugh was the first thing to greet you.

“Welcome back,” she hiccupped through her giggles, letting you know she had been crying too, “Now that I have been successfully brought back from the brink of certain death, you ready to start groveling?”

~

While the restoration of your other relationships was under way, your own relationship with Taiju also continued on the up and up. Of course there were still plenty of rough patches, both learning curves and moments of irritation that led to heated arguments and poisoned words. But even with the occasional spat it was obvious your bond was strengthening.

Taiju was the one that held you every night, telling you stories and stroking your hair while you drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat. He was the one who cooked all your meals for you, spoiling you with your favorite dishes and delectable treats, especially on the rough days. He could make you laugh at the most inappropriate times, taking great pride in bringing a smile to your face (even if it got you in trouble). He protected you like a guard dog, but in the event you ever were hurt, he would always clumsily nurse you back to health, pledging that whatever or whoever caused you pain would ‘get what they deserve’ (a promise you had no doubt he kept).

Whenever you were sad or stressed he didn’t shy away from addressing the issue, providing you comfort and support until you were back to your old self. If he was the cause, he’d return after whatever squabble had occurred with a bouquet so huge he could hide behind it, which was perfect to mask the sheepish expression on his face when he gifted it to you.

Taiju had remained a man of his word, consistently changing for the better. He wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the term, but you never expected nor wanted perfection. There would always be rough edges around Taiju Shiba, but now instead of those jagged edges inflicting the deep, hemorrhaging gashes they once did, all it seemed they could do these days were nick you at best.

~~~

Years passed. By the skin of your teeth you were able to graduate high school. While you had loathed the endless makeup classes and late night cram sessions you had forced yourself through, it was worth it to be able to graduate with the rest of your peers. Taiju had also been successful in his endeavors, receiving promotion after promotion, quickly rising in the restaurant hierarchy. Words could not begin to express how proud you were of him. Shaking off the shackles of his tumultuous youth, he was like an entirely new man with the world at his fingertips.

He was brilliant in his new role, so much so that as the years ticked by and the owner grew older and was no longer able to run them himself, he ended up bequeathing his entire chain of restaurants to the young man he had grown to view as a son. The moment marked a major turning point in his life, and it was an honor Taiju took very seriously. You had never seen him more proud than when he was re-introduced to the team under his new mantle as owner, beaming so brightly his face radiated a boyish charm akin to when the two of you had very first met.

Resolute in your support of Taiju, it only made sense for you to follow suit in his career endeavors. Starting out in odd positions here and there in his restaurants, you began by assisting in the kitchen before waitressing when needed, then acting as hostess, until eventually becoming a shift manager. Restaurant life was fast paced and tough work, but fulfilling in its own right. Once Taiju had become the boss, it took no time for you to be promoted as his second in command. Though you advised Taiju against such a quick promotion, worried that the other staff would be upset and act out over such an obvious show of favoritism, no one truly seemed to mind. If anything, they welcomed you with open arms, joking that they were pleased to have you as a co-owner because you were much kinder and approachable than their stony boss.

It wasn’t the original course you had plotted your life to take, but you were happy to have ended up here none the less.  Surrounded by love, support, and the promise of happiness on the horizon, you felt fulfilled for the first time in a very long time.

~~~

A tentative knock sounded on your office door.

“Come in,” you called, only glancing up briefly as you hurried to finish up the final tasks of the day. The remaining odds and ends that kept you from heading out of the long closed restaurant were nearly complete, and you had already given the go ahead for the closing staff to call it a night, so it came as a bit of a surprise that someone had stuck around. Usually the moment you told them they were good, people couldn’t peel out fast enough.

Yuki (one of the newer servers on the team) ended up sneaking his way inside. Once he was in the office, he took his time shutting the door behind him, moving as gingerly as he could. He seemed to take extra care in making sure it didn’t make any noise, like he was worried it may upset you if it did. His timid demeanor was strange for someone who was normally so sure of themselves, and you couldn’t help but be a bit concerned by his odd entrance.

“Sorry to bother you so late miss (Name),” he tittered shyly, bowing a bit in apology, “If now is a bad time I can come back later?”

You smiled at him as you shook your head, “You’re not a bother at all, I am just finishing up my daily report.” You set aside the paperwork you had been working on, giving the young man your full attention. “What’s up Yuki?”

He glanced at you nervously, fidgeting a bit where he stood, “Well… I was hoping I could ask you a favor?”

While Yuki had only been at the restaurant for about six months, he had already made quite a name for himself amongst the staff and customers alike. While maybe not the hardest worker, he was certainly one of the most liked, with a sparkling sort of personality that could put a smile on even the dourest of faces. He was witty and funny, with a handsome, fresh-faced look to boot. It wasn’t rare for the female customers to request to sit in his section, sometimes even waiting for seats to open up, despite there being other spots were available. His charm was undeniable and you yourself had also grown quite fond of him as well, viewing him as a little brother of sorts.

At the age of twenty it was apparent he had no true devotion to his job, seeing his current employment as a means to feed himself, help him get through school, have a little spending money, and little more. But still, he had a way about him that was genuine, and that made him both a likeable person and a valuable asset to the team

“Of course,” you shot him a look of concern, his hesitation not something you were used to from the confident boy, “What do you need?”

“Well,” He thought his words over for a moment, before looking you earnestly in the eyes, “I know that I am scheduled to work this coming Saturday, and I know its slated to be a super busy night what with all that’s going on around the neighborhood, but…”

He trailed off, sighing before continuing, “I just got word that my grandma is coming in to town. My mom told me kind of last minute, it slipped her mind because she had been busy getting the house ready and stuff. Usually I can find the time to go visit grandma whenever I get the chance because she’ll normally stay for a few days, which makes it easier to see her because I can just go over there at my own leisure and stuff. It’s better that way honestly, and something grandma usually takes into consideration when she comes over, but I guess this time-”

He stopped mid-sentence, laughing nervously as he scratched the back of his head, “Sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I? The point I’m trying to make is that this time around she’s coming this Saturday and ONLY this Saturday.” “I already asked around to see if anyone else could maybe pick up my shift,” he was

quick to continue on, “But everyone else is either busy or already working. I called my grandma today to try to explain to her that I most likely won’t be able to come see her, but before I could tell her that she just kept going on about how she’s excited to see me, gushing about how much she loves me and how she has missed me terribly, reminding me that she hasn’t seen me in months. She then started going into detail about how she has been looking forward to this trip for days and just kept on going from there. You know, the whole nine yards.”

Yuki gave a self-depreciating sigh, “I’m babbling again, I’m sorry, it’s just… The thing is, I miss her too. Maybe I sound childish for opening up like this, but I love my grandma. She helped raise me right alongside my mom, so to think I may miss out on the opportunity to see her after she told me how excited she is to see me, especially with how old she is getting … It really hurts.”

He bowed once more, “I know it will be super busy, and I hate to ask… but is there any chance I can have this coming Saturday off? I understand if the answer is no-“

“I will take your shift.”

Bewildered, he peered up at you from his bent position, “Miss (Name), you… you’ll really take over my shift for me? Are you sure?”

“Hey now, don’t make me regret my decision!” You chuckled, counting on your fingers, “Let’s see, I know of at least one concert going on in the area and two sports events. That, on top of all the anniversaries, birthday parties, business dinners, and just plain hungry people we have flood us on a normal Saturday… Yeah, your loss would definitely be felt,” You looked up at him with a kind smile, “Which is why I will take over your shift for you. Your job is important, but family even more so. I don’t want you to miss out on precious time with them.”

“Thank you,” he exclaimed, bowing once more, “Thank you so much, miss (Name)! I won’t forget this kindness! If there is any way I can help you in the future please let me know!”

“Just enjoy your families company,” you responded warmly, “And give your grandma a big hug for me.”

~~~

Saturday came quickly, and while you had readily agreed to take Yuki’s shift at the time, you were dreading the chaos that surely awaited you at the restaurant.

When you had told the rest of the crew you would be taking over Yuki’s shift you got a healthy dose of light teasing, your decision doing no favors for your reputation as a pushover. They all joked that you should have made him ask Taiju for the day off to see how that would fly, knowing good and well the only one who would be completely unwavering against Yuki’s charms would be the boss man himself.

While you knew they did it in jest, the thought of Yuki having to make this request to Taiju, even as innocuous as it was, made your stomach turn. Simply imagining the clear irritation that would display on Taiju’s face were Yuki to relay this heartfelt request to him made you feel so sorry for him you wanted to cry, never mind the verbal berating that would surely follow.

You had guessed this was why Yuki had decided to come to you over Taiju to begin with, and it honestly made you glad he did. Though Taiju had undeniably softened in the many years since his hoodlum days, that didn’t mean he had become a doormat. If anything he became more of a perfectionist and expected the people who worked for him to be the same. If you had an obligation you were expected to fill it, and there were very few things that Taiju would let pass by as acceptable absences. His overbearing demeanor was something you were still trying to work on with him, but whenever you brought it up he had a tendency of throwing it back in your face, reminding you that despite being an ‘domineering asshole’ he was able to run several Michelin star restaurants efficiently, therefor there was no reason to change his style of operation.

Stepping from the shower, you sighed as these thoughts occupied your head. There was exclusivity in knowing that Taiju reserved his soft side for those closest to him (most notably you), but you also knew what a boon it was to everyone else around him. He had rebuilt himself from the ground up, and while that was impressive and worthy of respect, you feared his severe personality still pushed away opportunities that could be substantial to him.

You had heard the door of the bedroom creak open just as you were rifling in the closet for something to wear, Taiju’s sudden presence making you hasten in your search, tightening the towel around your still damp form to keep you from indecency. It wasn’t long before you felt his arms encircling your stomach, pulling you closer as his lips descended to your exposed neck. You sighed when his lips connected with your skin, shivering slightly when his teeth just barely grazed the surface.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled against your neck, kissing you once more, “Is this that new body wash I bought you?”

You hummed in response, “It is. I know I gave you a hard time for spending so much money on such a small bottle, but it really does smell good.” You sniffed the air playfully before turning around to face him, “You smell pretty good yourself, and you look very handsome to boot! Got some kind of special plans tonight, sir?”

Your words weren’t mere flattery- Taiju truly was dressed to the nines. Tailored suit, hair slicked back, a shiny, thick gold chain peeking from collar of his crisp, white shirt- he looked like a model straight from a menswear magazine. Coupled with his piercing gaze and the rich smell of his cologne made you feel a bit weak in the knees, questioning what event could have possibly prompted him to get so dressed up. While it wasn’t rare for Taiju to take pride in his appearance, to dress up to this extent was usually reserved for only the finest of outings.

“Of course I do,” He smirked playfully, “But I see my lovely partner for the night is taking her sweet time. I thought she would be ready by now.” His grin grew as he placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, his hand moving to idly toy with the knot of your towel, “Though maybe her aim is to seduce me before the nights festivities even begin? If that’s her game it will be hard to beat, but tonight is too special to give up on so easily, so I won’t go down without a fight.”

By the tone of his voice it was obvious Taiju believed that you were kidding around with him, and how you wished that were the truth. Hearing his words made you remember it all in a sudden, violent flash. As the memory resurfaced your body grew rigid, punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. A few weeks ago Taiju had told you to keep tonight clear for him, explaining only that he had something very special planned. Unfortunately with how hectic the month had become, you had forgot to make any further note of it, and thus his planned evening with you had slipped from your mind entirely.

“Taiju,” you frowned solemnly, sucking away the playful glow he had seconds prior, “I am so sorry, I totally forgot we had plans tonight.”

You saw a hint of something flash in his eye, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Shaking his head, the smile returned to his face, “It’s alright, baby. We’ll just be a bit late for the reservation. Just keep getting ready, I’ll wait for you.”

“No,” you shook your head, frown growing, “We will have to reschedule entirely. I ended up making other plans at the restaurant. I picked up Yuki’s shift because he had some family coming to town and really needed the night off. Everyone else was either already working or previously engaged so I was the only one who could potentially help him. If I don’t show up it’s going to be a total shit show.”

Typically Taiju was very lenient when it came to anything that helped the restaurant. Prioritizing anything else over him was an issue, but if it was for your shared livelihoods sake, you got a free pass. In fact, it always pleased him greatly when you showed dedication to the family business, thrilled that his passion for running and maintaining the eatery extended to you as well.

However, as a cold look began to materialize in his eye, you realized that this time something was different. This time, whatever he had planned trumped anything that was going on with the restaurant (though you had a hard time imagining what that might even be), and you could tell from the shift in demeanor alone that you had made a very grave error.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, shrinking back slightly from his intense aura, “With how busy everything has been I didn’t get the chance to mark my calendar, so when he asked I completely forgot today was the day. I am so sorry Taiju, really. Maybe I can-“

“It’s fine.”

The frost in his voice made it clear that things were anything but. The rest of your words died in your throat, replaced by a drawn out, uncomfortable silence that frazzled your nerves with each passing second.

 Finally, after a deep sigh, he proceeded to talk.

“Its fine,” He repeated, this time more calmly. He pressed another kiss to your head, this one with more pressure behind it. “Go to your shift. We’ll discuss this more when you get home.”

Without another word, he quickly left the room. Moments later, you heard the front door slam shut, signaling that you were now alone.

~

Work was a nightmare.

Between the ceaseless onslaught of customers, mishaps with orders, issues with staffing, and being on your feet for hours on end while you had to maintain a brilliant service smile through it all, the night had been endless. None of the trials of the night were made any easier by the constant worry that plagued your mind over how you had upset Taiju. In the brief breaks you did get you found yourself constantly rushing to your phone, checking to see if you got a text or a call from him, each time coming back empty. It wasn’t a sign that bode well for you, and made the night that much more unbearable.

This entire shift had made you feel as if you had been hit by a bus, only for it to back over you so it could run you over again.

But miraculously, you pulled through. Frazzled and exhausted, you applauded your team for their efforts at the end of this trying night, wishing the equally weary group a goodnight before you hustled home yourself.  Though your legs felt as if they were moments away from giving out, you refused to let it stop you from jogging the entire way back home. The faster you could make it to Taiju, the better.

Out of breath and that much more exhausted, you made it home in record time. You were thankful that you lived so close to the restaurant, and thankful still that you were back where you needed to be and could now attempt to make things right. Your heart pounded in your chest, hammering away to a steady beat of anxiety and overexertion, as you marched up to your front door. Sweat made your clothes stick to your body, your clammy hand finding it hard to grip the nob and turn it. You groaned, annoyed that something as small as entering your own home was becoming an issue. Hadn’t the night been hard enough already?

After some finagling, you successfully opened the door, its slow creak alerting anyone inside that you had returned. All the lights were off, obscuring your home in a menacing darkness that amplified your unease. You tried to keep your breath steady as you took a tentative step inside, cringing when you stepped on a particularly noisy floor board.

“Taiju…?” You called into the depths of the house, “Taiju, I’m home.”

No response. You didn’t know if you should take that as a good sign or bad.

Just as you were about to fish your phone from your pocket, the heady scent of a cigar wafted into the hallway. You had never been a big fan of smoking, the sting of cigarette smoke always made your eyes water and your chest ache, reminding you of those horrible nights spent surrounded by delinquents and gang members- a life you were happy to have left behind. But on special occasions Taiju liked to indulge, and since you found the smoke from cigars less offensive, you left him to his vice with no complaints.

Following the scent, you arrived at the door of his office. A soft glow trickled from the bottom of the door as you stood just outside it, your heart pounding more than ever as you heard the muffled sound of someone moving inside. You exhaled, clenching your fists. Taiju was inside, and it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting.

Softly, you rapped your knuckles against the door. “Taiju?” Your voice questioned, meeker than you wanted.

“Come in.”

He answered immediately, his deep voice emotionless as he spoke his command. You swallowed the lump in your throat, nonplussed by his simple, calm reaction. His concealed emotions only filled you with greater concern over what awaited you.

Slowly, you pushed open the door to his office.

Taiju wasn’t sitting at his desk as you had expected, instead having settled in the far side of the room, positioned in a plush, yet slightly worn armchair, one of the few pieces of furniture that had followed from the old home you shared with his siblings. The only source of light was a fire crackling before him in the small fire place, a pleasant, warm glow cast about the room as the flames flickered and danced.

You always liked Taiju’s study. While overall it wasa  very formal and elegant work place, it also radiated a sense of comfort amidst its towering bookshelves and huge windows that gave a clear view of the wildflower garden you had planted out back several years ago. The hearth only added to the hominess, there had been many nights you fell asleep curled in the very spot Taiju occupied, dozing off as you waited for him to conclude his work for the day.

Currently however, any feeling of tranquility brought on by this familiar place was absent. It was far too dark out to see the flowering garden, and the bookshelves lined with their thick spined tomes seemed foreboding in the shadowy room.  The smoke that languidly drifted from Taiju’s lit cigar made the already dark room even hazier, its thick scent causing a tickle in your throat with each breath you took. A sense of disquiet wafted about the entire room as he turned his head to you, acknowledging your entrance through a puff of smoke.

“You’re home late.”

The words held no malice as he said them, seeming almost bored as he set his cigar down and rested his cheek on his fist. The flickering light of the fire projected fluctuating shadows across his body, but even the poor lighting couldn’t conceal the gleam in his eye.

“I know,” you gave him a small smile, closing the door gently behind you, “Even I’m a little surprised how long closing took. We were swamped! I barely made it out alive.” A tired sigh tumbled from your lips, “I’m beat.”

Hearing the exhaustion in your voice, he pivoted his body your way, sharp eyes remaining fixated upon you. “Sit.” He spoke plainly, uncrossing his legs to pat his lap.

Too tired to argue, you did as instructed, sitting yourself awkwardly atop his knees in an effort to not cause him discomfort. Your attempt at courtesy apparently displeased him, as he was quick to scope you closer to him, sprawling you across his lap as he cradled you in his arms.

Piercing eyes stared you down through the hazy veil, watching your every move with hawk like interest as you shifted around in his lap, trying to make yourself comfortable. He loved you being as close to him as physically possible and would often pull you down to sit with him during breaks or downtime at work. Ever the professional, he could control himself in public settings long enough to get you behind his closed office door, waiting until the coast was mostly clear to begin his heavy petting sessions.

To your great dismay, you had almost been caught by other employees on a number of occasions, but even the numerous close calls couldn’t keep his hands off of you for long. This all led you to have a bit of a complex of sitting upon what he jokingly called ‘your throne’. It was one thing to fool around like this as teenagers, but these days it just made you feel a bit childish to sit atop his lap like this. Such a position left you at a disadvantage, vulnerable to his whims. And given his ever fluctuating mood, stuck in his grasp was not always the best place to be.

But tonight you were so spent that you didn’t give any push back, and once seated you also couldn’t deny how nice if felt to be nestled against his broad chest, sitting atop his sturdy legs as his thick arms pressed you close. Now that you had settled, the full brunt of the weariness that had accumulated over the past strenuous hours regained its hold on your exhausted form, vanquishing any lingering feelings of embarrassment you may have otherwise been feeling. There was no fight within you. Taiju had won this battle before if even started.

Leisurely his hand went to your scalp, his long fingers entwining in your hair as he rubbed gentle circles against your head. “I missed you.” His voice was low as he leaned down to kiss near where his fingers lingered.

Though still slightly nervous, you were beginning to wonder if you had misread his mood. You leaned into his touch as you responded. “I missed you too. It’s good to be home.”

“Regretting your decision to abandon me?”

A soft chuckle followed his words, but the increase in pressure from his fingertips let you know his question was not entirely in jest.

“I didn’t mean to abandon you,” You frowned, looking up at him with a serious expression, “Forgetting the date wasn’t intentional, I’ve just been insanely busy this month and that has turned my brain into more of a mess than it already normally is. Not jotting it down as soon as you told me about it cursed me from the start. That, on top of remembering all the other meetings and events we’ve had this month and all the other stress I’ve been under…  Well, we see how that all turned out.” You huffed, massaging your temples to try and keep a mounting headache at bay, “Besides, it’s not like I was out having a great time, I was taking care of an understaffed, bustling restaurant. I would have loved more than anything to have been out having a lovely evening with the man I love instead of being a casualty of my shitty memory-loss riddled mind.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes softening as he looked upon you. “My poor baby, I can tell she really gave her all tonight.”

The unexpected softness of his appearance caused a blush to bloom across your cheeks. Taiju sometimes looked at you with such reverence that it made your heart melt, his eyes drinking you in as if you were the most beautiful and precious thing in the world, no matter how worn out or disgusting you felt in the moment. And this was how he was peering at you right now, leaned back in his chair with a fat cigar against his slightly downturned lips, appraising you as if you were an exquisite piece of art.

Smoke snaked from his mouth as he leaned farther back in the chair, pulling you with him. Were this a fantasy you imagined Taiju would be a fierce dragon, hiding in the mists of a deep, endless cave, lurking in wait for his prey to get close enough to pounce. That of course would make you the prey, but it was a role you had grown accustomed to, even if it still bothered you.

 Taiju hadn’t lost his bite. There was still a wildness within him you knew would never be fully quelled. He was a man that would always have cruel instincts and dark desires that lurked within him, bubbling just beneath the surface. While he had undeniably grown much better at managing the beast inside him, you knew the beast was still there. Further than that, you also were keenly aware that you weren’t exempt from falling victim to said beast, should he snap.

Sometimes you just liked to delude yourself into believing that you were.

 “Give me the details about the night. It may help you blow off steam.”

His voice continued to have no hints of animosity. This was a good sign for you, and your body relaxed further as you felt his large hand travel to your lower back, rubbing gentle, languid circles as he awaited your response.

You smiled up at him, “I don’t know, going into too much detail may just stress me out more.” You chuckled, closing your eyes as you recalled the nightmare, “It was a lot busier than I anticipated, and I expected it to be busy. I sort of underestimated all the things that were happening in town this weekend, so we were absolutely slammed from the moment I stepped in the building to the moment we closed the doors. It was truly nonstop, and I felt every moment of it.”

Taiju hummed in recognition, taking another puff of his cigar before speaking, “Sounds like my girl had quite the night. If only the one who put you in such a situation could see how his actions have burdened you, maybe he’d learn his lesson and never shirk his responsibilities again.”

While there was no edge to his voice, you didn’t like the implication of his words. “I told you its fine Taiju,” you waved a bit of the smoke from your face, suppressing a small cough, “It was just a onetime thing. Besides, if anything I’m happy he got to spend some time with his family. Family comes before everything, right?”

You thought using his own viewpoint against him would help you ease the strange agitation Taiju had been masking since the moment you had stepped into the room. It was a risky maneuver- coming face to face with his contradictions could have easily just pissed him off more than anything. But you took the gamble anyway- surely he could understand why you decided to help out. Thinking back to Yuki’s initial request and how he had asked so resolutely for some time to simply enjoy a rare visit from a beloved family member… In another life that could have been Taiju seeking time with Hakkai, Yuzuha, or even you. If granting him his request made you a sentimental sucker in Taiju’s eyes, so be it.

Your words hung in silence for a moment before a rumbling laugh erupted from Taiju, catching you off guard, “You’re right. Family does come before everything,” the hand that had once so gently been stroking your back now gripped your side tightly, pulling you closer to him. After extinguishing his cigar in an ash tray, his free hand was quick to pinch your chin, directing you to face him.

With no further words, his lips claimed yours. Fiercely and hungrily he came for you, the sudden display of passion leaving you momentarily stunned. It was only when Taiju greedily nibbled at your bottom lip that you regained control of your senses, hurriedly granting him the access he sought.

“My angel tastes like sugar,” he spoke between demanding kisses, “Intoxicatingly sweet. It’s stupidly easy to get addicted to you, baby.”

As his feverish onslaught grew deeper and more demanding by the second, you could do little more than give in to him. Whimpering against his lips your body grew hot, struggling to keep up with the intensity Taiju was showering upon you. He tasted like smoke and bourbon, his repeated kisses a mixture of sincerity and fierce desire. With each passing moment you drowned deeper, losing yourself in the desperate struggle of making his love known.

While he steadily stripped away your composure, his hands grabbed a tight hold of your waist, repositioning you ever closer to him.  You assisted in this effort, straddling him in a way that gave you a clear feel of just how excited this make-out session had made him.

Shaky hands went to cup his cheeks, your kisses matching his ferocity as you held his face gently, your thumbs tracing a feather light line just below his eyes. Excitement mounted as he began to buck against you, his eagerness causing a swell of anticipation within you. The exhaustion in your body temporarily assuaged, you teasingly grinded against him, causing a shudder to wrack his body. He groaned into your kiss, pleased by your cheeky display of affection.

Not wanting to lose the momentum, your hands began to trail down his neck to his chest. Manicured nails barely grazed his flushed skin as they went, leaving a string of raised goose bumps as they progressed down the valley of his body. Finally breaking the kiss, your lips went to trail his jawline, following the path your hands had just traveled. You couldn’t help but smile as he lulled his head to the side, granting you more access to the areas he was enjoying the attention the most. While soft kisses peppered his reddening flesh, you became enamored with how cute the scary and intense Taiju Shiba was behaving, taking great pleasure in knowing he only ever showed this side of himself to you.

Maybe in all these years you actually had become better at taming the beast inside him than you had given yourself credit for? It certainly seemed that way right now, Taiju no more than a sweet puppy melting under his master’s affection.

With a steady heat rising between the two of you, you were eager to make quick work of his clothing, desperately wanting to get to the main event of the night. Despite this however, you managed to keep your excitement in check, your hands working at the buttons of his expensive dress shirt in a cruelly slow pace. You wondered just how long you could draw out the anticipation before he grew overly impatient and just did it himself, or for that matter, if you could keep it up without giving into the anticipation yourself.

However, not long into your efforts to strip him you came across something unexpected- an odd wetness upon his chest, one that clung to your fingers the moment you touched it. At first you thought it may have just been sweat (he was very worked up after all), but as you got to the next button you realized that could not be the case. Why would he have so much sweat in just this concentrated area, and why did it feel so sticky?

Stopping what you were doing for a moment to inspect this mystery, your eyes widened as they glanced at your hand. Though the room was dark, the color was impossible to ignore. Your once pristine fingers were now coated in a vibrant, aggressive red.

Your eyes flicked to his chest, your breath hitching at what you saw. Not immediately apparent through the smoke and dim lighting, dark splotches covered his shirt, each of them varying sizes and intensity. The markings absolutely littered the front of his silky, sophisticated maroon shirt, but only the darkest one just above his belly still appeared wet.

Fear coursed through you. Was he hurt? Had someone come after him again, looking for some kind of revenge? Memories from that horrible Christmas night flooded your mind, the same terror of losing him invading your every thought, paralyzing you in his lap. You could hear the blood rush in your ears, each rapid beat of your heart no longer just a show of aroused exhilaration.

There was blood. He was covered in blood. This much blood meant someone had been very, very hurt. Taiju could be very, very hurt.

Yet as the seconds drew by, your fear of Taiju being mortally wounded began to fade. His body was stiff but steady, and there was absolutely no sign of the pain or discomfort that would surely accompany wounds that would cause this much blood. You could also feel no wound that may have been the source of these splotches of blood, no raised skin or torn flesh, and the moisture seemed greatest on the outside of his shirt. All signs pointed to this coming from an external source. When you glanced up at him looking for some reassurance or explanation, your troubled reflection in his fiery gaze gave you the only confirmation you needed.

But if this blood was not his, than whom did it belong to?

Before you could even pose the question, his lips had once more smashed against your own. This time, you tried your best to reject him, struggling to gain distance so you could address the blood he was littered in. While he didn’t relent to your attempts, his mouth did eventually leave yours in favor of your neck, giving you the opportunity to speak.

“T-taiju,” you squeaked, flustered by the confusing wave of terror and pleasure you were riding, “w-what’s going on? Whose blood is this?”

“I was mad, you know,” he panted against your neck, kissing and biting as he continued, “Real mad when I heard you had abandoned our date, a date I had planned so long to make perfect for you, just so you could pick up some losers shift at work.”

The kisses ceased for a moment in favor of nuzzling your neck, “It was messing me up inside. I knew I shouldn’t have been angry. My angel was just being her thoughtful, sweet, self after all. Doing what she could to support our business, help out our team…”

He ceased his movement, “Then I realized the true problem wasn’t your decision, it was the person who made you have to make the decision to begin with.”

Your blood ran cold as you understood where this story was leading, the horror of knowing whose blood was glued to your fingertips hitting you full force. Taiju seemed almost pleased by your reaction, his smile felt against your skin as he refocused on sucking lasting marks into your tender flesh. You wondered if he could feel your heart race through the pulse of your neck, and if he could, just how much that stimulated him.

“I wanted to pay this work boy you are so fond of a visit, just to check on him, make sure he was really enjoying that much needed time with his family. So I tracked him down, wanting verification with my own eyes that your sacrifice was being put to good use.”

He chuckled softly, the condescending air of it causing you to shudder. “I’ve always loved how kind you are, baby. You’re a true sweetheart, always wanting to believe the best in people. It really is very cute~,”

His mockingly sweet words were followed by a harsh bite, the teeth that sunk into your flesh causing an sudden, sharp pain. You cried out, feeling a trickle of blood begin to snake its way down your neck. He growled against you, “But you can be a real fucking dumbass, you know that?”

You cringed in pain, “What are you talking about?”

Taiju pulled back from you, his eyes boring into yours with a pointed intensity. “He was lying to you, (name). That little bastard went to some comedy show with his shitty little friends. And unless he has some deeply fucked up shit going on, I doubt the slut he had hanging off his arm was his dear sweet grandma he was so desperate to spend time with, or anyone else in his family for that matter. He lied to you, baby. There was no family get together-he just wanted to get his dick wet and fuck around with some of his buddies.”

“I was so pissed off that I could barely see straight,” he scoffed, his grip tightening in frustration as he continued with his tale, “I ended up going to a bar a few blocks away, one of the ones I own, to clear my head a bit and form a plan. Try to figure out how I was going to deal with this little asshole.” A cruel smile began to tug at his lips, twisting his expression into something maniacal, “But luck was on my side, because you’ll never guess who came stumbling into the building already damn near drunk just as I was getting ready to leave.”

You quickly shook your head, desperately wanting him to stop. You were already well aware of this stories ending and the fate that befell your younger coworker, you could be spared the gory details of the conclusion. But Taiju was not the kind of man to miss out on a ‘learning opportunity’, and if recounting his violent deeds could help you see things his way, remind you just how easily it was to slip back into the life you felt you had long since escaped from, he was more than happy to do so, your desires be damned.

Noting your quakes of terror, Taiju languidly dragged his knuckles over your cheek. His scabbed flesh scraped against you slowly, acting as a cruel confirmation of all that had transpired and all that was about to. While spoken softly, his words and battle scarred hands commanded you to be present, to be aware. His blood stained lips continued weaving his tale, each sentence burrowing deeper into your brain, inescapable as you crumbled beneath him.

“Dumbass was so busy gloating about himself and how easy it was to trick work to let him have the night off that he didn’t even notice his boss was just a few feet away at the bar, listening to every stupid fucking word that came out of his lying lips,” Taiju snorted, “I waited patiently for hours as they drank and drank, making himself even more of a blathering idiot in the process. Turns out the chick who seemed so into him before no longer had any interest in a piss-drunk nobody, so when they all finally got up to leave, he was quickly left to fend for himself and make it home on his own. Once the rest of them had dumped him, I followed him.”

 “Taiju… stop…”  The horror and disgust that griped you came out as a barely audible whisper. Maybe Yuki had lied to you and maybe he was a little obnoxious and lazy, but he was still a good kid. You certainly weren’t attached at the hip, you hardly knew more than the basics about him, but you still considered him a friend and he certainly didn’t deserve this.

But more than that, you couldn’t escape the sickening fact that you, in some twisted way, had a hand in all this. The realization that Taiju’s warped affection for you caused an innocent man to suffer, possibly even die, made the truth all the more bitter.

A cruel smile once more contorted Taiju’s face, his right hand snapping around your throat, yanking you forward until his mouth was pressed against your ear, “You’re gonna need to start looking for a new employee angel. This time, make sure to pick one that isn’t such a useless little bitch, alright?”

Without further provocation, he hoisted himself up, dragging you in tow. Making his way to the awaiting desk, he deposited you upon it roughly, miscellaneous office items digging into your back and ass as you flopped atop its wooden surface. Paper work, books, and pens all scattered to the ground as he climbed atop you, shedding the shirt you had tried to rid him of minutes prior. Your breathing grew haggard as he loomed over you, the previous exhilaration you had felt all but out the door as he glared down at you with all the turbulence of a storm. You made an attempt to reposition yourself on the hard desk but no matter how you writhed all you were met with was further discomfort, feeling as if you were an insect that had been pinned to a board for someone to gawk at.

“Taiju please-“

Your attempt at reasoning was quickly cut short by his hand once more landing on your throat, his thick fingers squeezing so hard your words were turned to choked gasps.

“Shut up,” he spat, holding tightly as you continued to struggle. After several seconds of torment had passed, he released his grip enough to allow you to breathe, though you were neither bold nor stupid enough to attempt a true escape.

So you stayed, trapped beneath him like a caged animal, wrapped in silence that was only permeated by the sound of your combined heavy breathing and the crackling of nearby flames. After a solid minute had passed, Taiju placed his free hand in his pocket, fishing around until he eventually procured a small, stylish, black box.

Finally breaking eye contact with you, he regarded the small box, turning it this way in that in his hand for several moments before finally releasing a heavy sigh.

“I really wanted to do this right, (Name). I had it all planned perfectly. Starting out with dinner at your favorite restaurant, followed by a nice orchestra concert at the music hall… The performance in question was going to be playing some of your favorites, you know? I figured you’d like that, seeing it played in person. Not that it matters now.” He tutted bitterly before continuing, “After that, a romantic late night walk in that little park just down the street from here, the one with all the night lilies that only bloom once the sun has set. Even what I was going to say when we ended the night by the pond in the center of the park, the one that has all the koi in it? I figured it would really leave a lasting impression, me getting down on one knee in front of its little fountain… “

He released a breezy laugh, “It had all been rehearsed in my head to hell and back, so much so I was fucking dreaming about it, counting down the days until it would happen for real. It was all going to be perfect.”

The full realization of Taiju’s plans suddenly became crystal clear, a myriad of emotions coursing through you as you stared up at him with pleading eyes, “Taiju, I’m sorry. How could I have known? If I had any idea I never would have agreed to take his shift.” The dreamy look that had overcome his features quickly diminished at your words, a grimace replacing his small, meaningful smile when he refocused from his fantasy, back to the present reality. “I guess my little angel was so taken by other peoples bullshit that she forgot

that even todays date is special,” he snorted derisively, “Let me jog your memory and get you up to speed, baby. Today was the day I first met you all those years ago on that junky little playground. Today was the day my life changed forever, for the better- all because you came into it. It’s a date I could never forget, even if I wanted to. ”

He leaned forward a bit, his glare growing sharper as his nose nearly touched yours.

“But I guess that doesn’t mean much to you, huh?”

You had never been particularly good at dates. Even the birthdays of those closest to you needed to be stored in your phone to be remembered. It wasn’t from a lack of you caring, more so a kind of personal flaw. Life always seemed to come at you so fast that things that weren’t at the forefront of the day, week, or even month were much more likely to get lost in the flow of it all, including important or personal dates. It was just an unfortunate quirk of who you were. You meant nothing malicious by it.

Taiju had been in your life so long that after a certain time all of your anniversaries began to mush together in your mind. The initial meeting with him had happened so long ago you could barely remember the season it happened, let alone the month or day. Nevertheless, you could clearly recall the date you had made your relationship publicly official. That was, after all, the date both yourself and Taiju put priority on when it came to anniversary celebrations. Never before had he made such a big show of acknowledging the date you met as children, most years when the day came he never even mentioned it, let alone celebrated it in any way. So to garner such hostility over not realizing the correlation alarmed you.

“That’s not true,” you whimpered, tears starting to flood your eyes, “you know that’s not true, Taiju. We just had our dating anniversary last month and I didn’t forget that, I have never forgotten that! We’ve never celebrated our initial meeting previously, so to act like I am being uncaring is just cruel!” You sniffled, “I was only ever just trying to help the restaurant, to help YOU by filling in where help was needed! So why… why are you acting this way? Why are you doing this?”

 A look of brief regret flashed in his eyes, and for a moment, you had hope. Hope that he realized just how unreasonable and ridiculous he was being. Hope that he recognized that all that hard work he had put in to improving himself, to becoming a better person, was not what he was exhibiting currently to the woman he loved. Hope that he realized he needed to get a grip, apologize, and push his ferocious instincts aside in lieu of coming back to you-come back to being the supportive, loving man he had worked so hard to become.

But nearly as soon as it came, that brief moment of reflection was gone.

“Maybe I am being harsh,” His voice was low as he hovered over you, a deep frown engulfing his face, “but sometimes that’s necessary to show the people you care for just how much you love them. I already took care of the major problem that plagued this night, now I just need to remind my sweet better half exactly who takes precedence in her life.”

Setting the ring box down by your head, he grabbed hold of your hips and abruptly smashed himself against you, the erection straining his pants demanding you to concede to his desire.

“Direct action always worked better with you anyway, baby.”

Once more his lips found yours, working tirelessly as if to devour you whole. You struggled to keep up, placing your hands against his chest in a weak attempt to grant yourself reprieve. This only seemed to make him hungrier, his kisses growing sloppier and more demanding by the moment. His bottom half grinded into you, the friction causing twitches of forced pleasure to jolt your body.

As his lips continued to dominate, his hands followed suit. He hastily discarded your shirt and bra, latching on to your chest the moment he was able. Scorching hands kneaded your breasts mercilessly, his violent ministrations causing you to recoil. You could feel yourself bruise under his touch, and when his mouth went from engulfing your lips to assaulting your breasts your body shuddered through the discomfort. You groaned as he bit and suckled at the abused, sensitive flesh, your pained reactions causing him to grow more frenzied.

“Taiju stop,” you spoke with a shaky voice, your hands squeezing his shoulders tightly, “You are being too rough, it hurts.”

“You’ve been through worse,” he growled between kisses, “And it wouldn’t be much of a lesson to you if it didn’t hurt a little, right angel?”

While he spoke, you heard the faint sound of a zipper, followed by the sound of ruffled fabric. Shortly after he gruffly hiked up your skirt, swiftly yanking your panties down to your knees, leaving you exposed to him. Though you had been trapped in this position before, it had been some time since he had become so unhinged during the process and longer still since he had fucked you in such a state. Stuck in this situation, you began to thrash about, hopelessly seeking escape.

His heavy breathing and bestial demeanor reminded you so vividly of the past, of all the times he would be coming off the high of a fight or overcome with rage at a perceived slight against himself, his siblings, or God forbid, you. Taiju could never control himself in those moments, and when his unchecked passions would inevitably take over he became an entirely different person. Someone merciless and potent, becoming so vile it was like he was no longer a human at all.

He became a monster.

And now you had to face the consequences of awakening this monster.  You were the catalyst, the ignition, the source that drew out the wicked that lurked inside of Taiju. And because of this, because of who you were to him, you would always, always be his quarry.

You felt his hot, hard tip prod against your opening, causing your body to lurch. He chuckled darkly at the response, releasing a shuddered sigh of his own as his shaky palm went to your cheek. Caressing it, he gruffly planted a kiss on your other cheek, his tongue darting out a bit to swipe at your tears. He rubbed his tip slowly against your opening, a move that under normal circumstances had you begging him to hurry up and take you. This time however, it only caused more tears to pool in your eyes before spilling down your reddened cheeks. Words having left you, you shook your head vigorously, hoping he would have a last minute change of heart and stop his assault.

Your pathetic attempt was in vain, he trembled with eagerness as he pushed a bit harder, his precum smearing against your folds as he began to dip into you. “Cute,” he murmured as you sobbed and twitched beneath him, “So fucking cute.”

“I usually like to prep you a little more before I fuck you,” his voice was laced with a cruel softness as he spread your legs wider, opening you up for the taking. “But I just can’t wait tonight. It’s going to hurt angel, and you are just going to have to take it.”

Without any further warning, his hips snapped against yours, entering you fully with a quick and brutal thrust. For a moment all you saw was stars, an all-encompassing burning pain following shortly after. You cried out as he proceeded in pulling back, slamming back into you with an even greater force, giving you no chance to get used to the sudden intrusion. The desk shook beneath you as your body swayed with each slam of his hips, hiccupped sobs spilling from your lips as your fingernails dug into the flesh of his broad shoulders, gripping for dear life as he had his way with you.

Taiju’s shaky breaths grew into wanton moans as he fucked you, his dark eyes glazing over in lust as they lulled back in his head. Each ram inside of you hit with such potency you felt as if you were being impaled, torn apart by his savage advance. Wracked with mortification, you tried to avert your gaze, wanting desperately to will yourself away from the agony that was being inflicted upon you. Taiju was quick to cull the attempt, his sweaty hand grabbed onto your chin, keeping your head in place. Giving a warning squeeze, he spoke down to you.

“Don’t look away, pretty girl,” he rasped, desire dripping from his words, “Focus on me and only me. Feel every inch of me inside of you and know who you belong to.”

A particularly rough thrust caused a scream to tear from your throat. Garbled cries continued to croak past your lips as you felt his engorged length drag against your walls, forcibly claiming you over and over as he prodded his way inside, inserting himself into the deepest part of you.

“God angel, you feel so good,” he snarled, remaining completely blind to your dismay through his mounting euphoria. In his state of blissful ignorance, he planted a chaste kiss to your forehead, a motion that seemed overly sweet given the circumstances. “You were made for me and only me. God put you on this earth for me to love.”

He took a deep, quivering breath, exhaling the words “And I love you so fucking much.”

Another intense thrust elicited another cry, more stars dotting your vision. He paused for a moment, staying sheathed inside of you as he gave you a much needed chance to collect yourself. His throbbing dick filled you to the brim as he hovered over you, panting from exertion and barely contained arousal.

You gasped as you felt his finger suddenly press against your bud. Pulses of pleasure began finding their way through the pain, becoming stronger with each stroke of his fingers. “It feels better when we come together,” he spoke through labored breaths, proceeding to rock into you once more, “My good girl has taken this little punishment so well, she’s -”

A lustful grunt interrupted his words as you clenched around him involuntarily, “Fuck angel,” he cursed, intensifying his pace until the liquid pooling between your legs was more than just his arousal, “I’m such a goddamn softie for you, but I can’t help giving my girl a reward after she’s been so good for me.”

His free hand went to your breast, his fingers delicately pinching and rubbing against your perked nipple, treating you much gentler than he had previous. His mouth went to your other breast, his tongue swirling and sucking in the same manner, working diligently to make sure that this time he would elicit no pain, seeking only your satisfaction.

He continued rolling his hips, pumping his dick inside of you at a hypnotic pace. Your senses were assaulted, feeling impossibly full as he rocked into you, his mouth and hands working in tandem with his hips to cause buzzes of pleasure to radiate throughout your entire body. All tension and fear had melted away as he continuously exploited all your weak points, feeding your extreme desire. His continuous fanning of your flames brought about an intense wave of longing. A heady need was beginning to consume you, and you worried that if you burned much hotter, you would be unable to untangle yourself from the raging passion that coursed within you.

Overcome with pleasure, you were becoming nearly delirious as he rhythmically worked his built frame against yours. You bucked your hips against his, your body starting to shake with your imminent release. Taiju cursed above you, gritting his teeth as he picked up his pace. He scooped you up in his embrace, lifting you so that you were once more straddling him. He watched you with hungry, bestial eyes as you bounced on him, chasing your own pleasure while his strong grip guided you, “So close angel,” he choked out, his eyes snapping shut as your walls fluttered around him, “Fuck I can’t hold it back any longer…”

As fate would have it, you could no longer hold on either. Spilling over the edge, you latched on to him in a tight hug. Your arms snaked around his neck as you convulsed around him, sobs of pleasure mingling with calls of his name as you rode out your rapturous high. He came seconds later, holding you against him just as tightly, spilling himself inside of you as he called out a string of unintelligible praises. As his essence pumped inside of you, his body shook with the release. Tears squeezed from his eyes while he lost himself in blissful contentment, melting into your embrace.

The moments that followed seemed like a dream, leaving you a mixture of elated, hesitant, and confused. He remained inside of you with his arms wrapped snuggly across your back, steadying breaths huffing sporadically against your neck. Despite the severe discontent he had previously displayed, he seemed completely at ease now, tranquil in the afterglow of his orgasm.

“I want to make you happy. I want to be a good man for you.”

His breathy whisper pulled you back down to earth. Repositioning himself, Taiju sat you once more atop the desk. You shivered as he withdrew his softening cock from your folds, his seed spilling from within you to litter its fine oak surface.

“But I can only take so much, (Name). It’s in your best interest to remember that angel, remember where it is that you belong. But if you forget again, here is a reminder.”

He reached behind you, taking the ring box into his grasp. You had little time to marvel the beautiful rock within as he unceremoniously took the ring between his fingers, flinging the fancy box to the ground. Without waiting for you to offer it, he grabbed your left hand, forcing it down your ring finger with a decisive shove.

“You already agreed to this,” he whispered in your ear, his thumb roughly stroking the fat gem of the ring, “back when you told me you would always stand beside me. That makes you mine, forever.”

He kissed you deeply once more, only breaking away to impart one final message.