#sub!shawn

Shawn is a sub. If you listen to her special attention voice line, then you'll understand why. With her online persona, you'd assume she's a dom as she gives that energy, but when you learn who Shawn really is behind the facade, you'll learn that she's just a girl who wants to be loved.

Shawn likes more soft, loving sex. Go slow, take your time, kiss her everywhere, and whisper her praises. Kiss along her stomach, and feel her flex under the touch until you move in between her legs. Keep eye contact, watch as her head falls back, mouth agape as she lets out a breathy whiny moan the second you touch her.

The more love you show her during intimacy, the more she falls in love with you. It'll also make her orgasm more intense and pleasurable when she finally reaches it, her back arching off the bed and hands scrambling to cling onto the bed below her.

Let her hold your hand, the simple act as her heart beating faster and has her whining louder. Tears will prickle her eyes, your name falling from her lips in a soft, breathy whisper as she comes down from her high. She's so fucking beautiful, gazing down at you as you kiss her thighs, slowly moving back up.

Shawn’s eyes widened as she sees you take out the toy from your drawer. “Y-you really aren’t thinking of putting that in me…right?” Her voice was nervous and you could hear the stutter in it. “Course I am. Why? Don’t think you can handle it?” “That thing is not gonna fit…is it?” You snort as you push her onto the bed, which made her yelp a little. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure I’ll go nice and slow for you.” You place her onto all fours as her hands clung onto the pillow. Pushing her upper body down as her back arches. “You’re so pretty like this you know?” The unannounced compliment made her look away as pink painted her cheeks. You can feel her shudder against you as you pressed a finger against her butt. “So tight….probably a good idea to use some lube.” “Is it gonna hurt…?” She asks softly as you dripped the bottle down the silicone toy and then rubbed some along her ass “Yes, but I’ll make sure to go slow alright? Trust me.”

She nods as she burrows her head into the pillow. Your hands grip her hips as you push the tip into her butthole. Shawn lets out a loud moan as her hands tighten on the sheets below her. “Shhhh it’ll be alright, I’ll go nice and slow for you baby.” Your reassuring words made her even more nervous. As you slowly moved your hips deeper, her moans got louder. “I-it’s too big, I can’t handle this!” She whimpers as tears prick her eyes. “But you are, almost there baby, almost there. You’re doing so good you know. You can take it all I know you can I’ll go nice and slow.” Though the last part was more like to comfort yourself because of how tight and how right it felt. As if she was made for it, her tight walls clinging onto the fake cock so tightly. “Fuck.” You grunted against her ear as you thrusted your hips. Her hands tighten around the sheets as she whimpered at the sudden change of speed. Tears began to roll down her eyes more as she began to writhe slightly. “I-I can’t! It hurts. T-too much I-I feel too much!” She sobs as you try your best to comfort her. “I’m so sorry, it’ll be alright. Baby I’m so sorry for going so rough. You can take it, I trust you.”You try to reassure her as you try your best to make her stay still so it wouldn’t hurt as much. Peppering kisses along her wet cheeks as you hug her against you.

After a few minutes of readjusting she finally stopped writhing as much but damn did her crying turn you on so much more. That pathetic expression on her face like a succubus trying to lure you in. Her puffy pink eyes looking back at you as you pressed kisses along her face. It made you want to pump the dick into her so much until she’s sore and dazed out. “Are you alright with me moving, baby? Just a little bit?” With her nod you slowly start to move your hips again. Slowly moving in and out of her hole as she sniffles against the pillow. As the minutes passes your movements got rougher and more passionate. “Oh baby you feel so good around you.” You moan as your hands grip her hips tighter. Each thrust of yours made Shawn feel like she was about to pass out from the pleasure and the overwhelming speed. Her juices that had dripped down had made a small pool on the sheets. You nuzzled two of your fingers into her folds as you pressed them in. She lets out a shocked gasp as she looked behind her. “I can’t handle all this.” She said with a stunned expression as she tried to pull away. Your hands tighten around her as you pulled her into you again, this time with her on your lap with the strap still deep inside of her. “We’ve reached so far, it’ll be a shame to back out now don’t you think?” She writhes against your lap as you continue to finger her. Your finger easily moving against her as her juices provided the lubrication you needed. She lets out strangled mewls and breathless moans as she lays against you, your chest pressed against her back. Her skin coated by sweat as she tried to cling onto whatever she could. Her body felt like it was about to explode with just one more move of your fingers. As your fingers curl and hit a spongy spot against her walls, she lets out a high pitched whine. Her walls tightening around your fingers as she finally climaxed.

“Uhh, put your hands up over your head,” Shawn says, eyeing the railings of the headboard and toying with handfuls of rope. Having already had each of his feet bound to the bottom of the bed Taker silently complies, holding loosely on to the rails and Shawn has to take a minute to just drink him in. Sure, he sees his partner naked all the time, but rarely on display like this. Taker is a big guy and the position he’s in right now shows all the definition in his huge arms. Shawn wants to lay down on him with that broad chest as a pillow and sink his teeth into those pecs… and then he realises that he can. Still wearing his jeans, he drapes the length of rope around his neck and crawls on to the bed, straddling Taker’s hips. He leans forward and begins to wind the rope around the bigger man’s wrists - his work isn’t as neat as Taker’s but he’s sure it’ll be just as effective. He wraps and knots it around the railings as best he can and then places his hands on Taker’s chest, splaying his fingers out across the pecs.

“Does it feel OK? Not too tight?” He asks the same thing that Taker always says when their roles are reversed.

The big man raises a dark eyebrow. “It’s fine,” he says. “But then, it’s not like I have regular circulation.”

Shawn gives a small shrug in capitulation and then digs his fingers into Taker’s flesh slightly and wriggles backwards. His gaze leaves the green eyes and roves across the broad chest below him and then he does it - he dips his head and mouths at the big man’s left pec just above the nipple before gently biting down.

Taker lets out a breathy moan the sort of which he’s never heard him make before and Shawn looks up in surprise.

“You like that?” He tries to keep his tone in check and sound more confident than questioning.

“Yeah,” Taker replies, his voice sounding a little strained. “I like it just fine.”

Shawn understands his stoic lover well enough to know that liking something ‘just fine’ actually translates as, ‘give me more of that right now’. He briefly considers making Taker ask him to do it again but decides against it as while that’s exactly the kind of thing the big man would do to him, he has a feeling it would just send his partner retreating into his shell. So instead, he dips back down and bites again - harder this time, to the point of leaving teethmarks. He’s rewarded with another moan and so he begins to devour Taker’s chest like a starving man, licking and biting his way across it.

By the time he sits back up Taker’s eyes are closed, he’s breathing rapidly and his skin is pink and covered with marks. Also, his dick is as hard as a rock, which Shawn notices when his ass bumps against it and he smirks a little.

“Guess you really liked it, huh?”

Taker’s eyes snap open and Shawn startles as he notices that the other man’s pupils are blown so wide, his eyes look nearly black.

“Enough teasing now.” Taker flexes his arms and stares hungrily at the blonde wriggling on his lap. “You got it like that, so now you can take care of it.”

“All in good time,” Shawn replies, with a cheeky wink as he shuffles backwards. He wriggles his jeans and boxers off and then lays down on his stomach between Taker’s legs in order to be properly on a level with ‘it’. He rests his chin on his hands as he takes some time to admire the delectable treat in front of him, while his partner stares impatiently down the line of his body, glaring at the smug blonde.

Shawn reaches out and wraps his hand around the base, guiding the column towards him before sticking his tongue out and licking steadily from root to tip. He presses his tongue hard against the flesh, feeling it track over the thick vein while at the same time feeling Taker’s thighs tense beneath his hand. He’s sure that he hears a creak from the head of the bed.

In a bid to quell any sense of mutiny from above, he takes the spongy head into his mouth and sucks hard which automatically causes the bigger man to thrust upwards, chasing the pressure. Shawn merely moves with him and continues to tease, curling his tongue around to tickle at the frenulum as a muffled growl is heard from above.

“I told you enough teasing,” Taker’s words come from between gritted teeth. “Take it down your throat.”

“I told you all in good time,” Shawn counters, emboldened by the safety of distance. “I wanna play a little first, and then I’ll slide right down on it.”

“I’ll remember this,” Taker grumbles, flexing his fingers.

Shawn dips his head to hide a smile. “I’m counting on that,” he answers and then noses at Taker’s balls before licking and nipping at the sac while he reaches up with his right hand to slowly jack the now weeping erection. This earns a few sharp intakes of breath as his victim struggles to adjust to the new sensation.

“C’mon, baby…” Taker’s voice is soft now, cajoling. “You know you want to take me all the way…”

Shawn’s head pops back up in almost comic fashion but the smirk on his face is predatory. His expression matches his actions as he crawls slowly back up Taker’s body, making sure to let his muscled abs drag against the bigger man’s dick on the way.

Taker closes his eyes against the insanely erotic sight of his lover advancing upon him and presses his lips together to prevent any kind of sound escaping. He knows that he shouldn’t do what he’s currently considering… That is, using his powers in the bedroom, right now… it wouldn’t be in the spirit. On the other hand, Shawn has now reached his chest and has begun to bite and suck on his left nipple while simultaneously pinching his right. Unnggh.

Decision made.

It takes Shawn nearly a full minute to realise that something is… not wrong, exactly - just different. He’s laying atop the big man having transferred his attentions from nipples to neck and he’s happily nuzzling away there when the familiar, huge arms wrap around him and a kiss is pressed to the side of his head. The big hands slide down his back and then cup his ass and squeeze before-

Hang on a second!

He scrambles to an upright position, to find Taker’s hands very much no longer tied and a quick glance behind him confirms that while his legs are still spread, his ankles are also free. Taker at least has the good grace to look a bit sheepish and he shrugs awkwardly.

“I got impatient?” He offers as Shawn folds his arms and pouts down at him. “The worst torture was not being able to touch you…”

Shawn can’t get mad - he’s still feeling a little high from the dose of power that he was given and so he leans down and kisses Taker gently.

“Well, now you can touch all you want.”

Taker raises a hand to hold the back of Shawn’s head as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into the blonde’s mouth as the smaller man whimpers his submission. As soon as he breaks the kiss, he rolls them in one movement so that their positions are reversed and he stares down into bright blue eyes that seem to be begging him to take charge. He pins the slim wrists to the bed and when he feels Shawn push against the hold he tightens his grip and watches with satisfaction as he shudders.

“Wh.. what are you gonna do with me?” Shawn asks, a tremor in his voice that even if it’s only done for effect, goes straight to Taker’s dick.

Taker doesn’t answer at first - just uses his grip on each wrist to push Shawn’s arms out wide and then dares him with a Look to move as he lets go and untangles the rope from the headboard’s rails. He quickly and efficiently completes the ties and then asks Shawn to confirm that nothing is too tight. Comfort established, Taker drifts the tips of his fingers down the blonde’s arms, watching them tense as he reaches that ticklish spot on each armpit before finally replying.

“I’m going to make you beg, boy toy.”

Shawn can’t prevent the low whine that’s a combination of lust and trepidation. Taker smirks at the noise, leans down and proceeds to visit upon Shawn exactly what was done to him. He flicks his tongue over the heaving chest and then sinks his teeth slowly into one perfect pec. He takes time to appreciate how the flesh feels under his bite, increasing the pressure until he’s sure that imprints will be left behind. Shawn’s head thrashes from side to side as the torrent of pain-pleasure is inflicted upon him.

He teases the blonde’s nipples, the very tip of his tongue dancing insistently over the hard little peaks and then turns his attention to Shawn’s neck. He takes a good handful of his lover’s hair and uses it to hold his head back as he kisses and bites his throat. Shawn mewls quietly as he’s devoured, straining at the ropes just to feel the restraint more fully.

“Please,” He gasps out when Taker finally kneels back up, watching him writhe impatiently.

“Please, what?”

Shawn’s dick twitches at the prompt and he swallows before replying, “Please, sir…”

Taker smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Please, sir… what?”

Shawn bunches his hands into fists, knowing that it will make his biceps flex a little. “I want… Can I come, sir?”

Taker laughs quietly and merely shakes his head ‘no’, before shifting forwards and offering his dick up to Shawn’s lips. “Open up, boy toy; let’s put that pretty mouth to good use.”

Shawn’s eyes close as he takes his lover’s erection into his mouth and caresses the underside with his tongue. Taker thrusts gently, letting out a quiet grunt of his own as Shawn’s teeth softly scrape over his flesh. “Look at me,” he commands and his heart swells just a little when the blue eyes flutter open and meet his own. Taker holds on to the top rail of the headboard and slowly fucks Shawn’s mouth for a while - never pushing too far, just enjoying as much as the position allows.

Eventually he withdraws and stands up, making his way to the foot of the bed, trailing his fingertips along Shawn’s torso and down his leg as he goes. He stands and contemplates the gorgeous creature on the bed, all mussed-up hair and whimpers.

“That looks uncomfortable,” Taker says, with a nod towards Shawn’s straining dick. As if performing on cue, a bead of pre-come leaks out of the dark red slit and dribbles down over the head. “Want me to do something with it?”

Shawn nods rapidly. “Yes, sir - please. God, yes!”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Taker drops forward, catching himself on his hands and then leans over to lick up the drip running down the side of Shawn’s dick. The blonde shouts in surprise and Taker has to clamp his hands down on the smaller man’s legs to prevent him from moving too much. Far from backing off at the extreme reaction, Taker instead captures the weeping head in his mouth and swirls his long tongue around it a couple of times before sucking hard, drawing back off it with a pop.

Shawn’s hips thrust up pathetically despite Taker’s hold and he looks confused that all the bigger man has done is make matters worse. “Wha..?”

“Said I’d do something with it. Not get rid of it.” Shawn looks bereft which just makes Taker smile. “Didn’t I say that I’d remember what you did to me just now?” Somewhat defeated, Shawn nods as he grasps the bars of the headboard. He looks so pitiful that Taker decides to progress things and crosses to the bedside cabinet to retrieve the lube. He very deliberately holds Shawn’s gaze as he squeezes some out on to his hand to warm and then steps up close, tapping the nearest thigh as a signal to bend his knees.

He gently pushes a well-lubed finger into Shawn, working it in and out while the blonde lets out the most adorable breathy little moans.

“Like this part, don’t you?”

“L - like all of it, si-ahh!” Shawn’s response is cut off to a gasp as Taker chooses that moment to add a second finger. “God, that feels so good…” He writhes and pulls against the ropes as Taker seeks out that little bundle of nerves and presses insistently. The pleasurable burn as he’s carefully stretched is all-consuming and he begins to feel as though he’ll come from Taker’s fingers alone.

“You look good all spread out like that,” Taker comments. He twists his hand around and gently scissors his fingers inside Shawn’s grasping heat and the smaller man mewls.

“Please… Fuck me sir, please!”

“You sure you’re ready?”

Shawn nods rapidly in response. “Please!” He says again, thrusting his hips up.

Taker has half a mind to make him wait, but truth be told he’s more than ready himself and so he withdraws his fingers and then slathers more lube on to his dick. As a final tease he bites his way along one of Shawn’s thighs and then kneels on the bed, hooking his hands behind the blonde’s knees. He lines up and then pushes slowly in, gritting his teeth against the squeeze and intense heat until he bottoms out. He takes a few moments to adjust and then draws back, the beginning of a torturously slow fuck.

Shawn stares up at the man above him, relishing the feeling of being completely owned as he’s held in position. Sure, the idea of topping had been fun but nothing can beat this, he’s sure of it.

“Faster…” The words slip out unbidden and result in Taker ceasing to move altogether.

“You giving orders now?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and serious expression.

“N - no, sir. I just… so good…” Shawn bites his bottom lip and does his best to look contrite.

“That’s what I thought,” Taker says and starts to move again. He moves his left hand from behind Shawn’s knee and places it loosely about the smaller man’s throat. “Your job is to lay there and take it. What are you?”

The question takes Shawn by surprise and at first he’s not sure what Taker’s looking for so he blinks, swallows and hopes for the best before replying,

“I’m your boy toy, sir.”

A mildly satisfied smirk turns up the corner of Taker’s mouth and he rewards Shawn with a few rapid thrusts to stab against his prostate before returning to the previous slow pace.

“What else?”

Shawn swallows again, his stomach flip-flopping before he closes his eyes with faux-shame and quietly answers, “A slut, sir.”

Taker gives Shawn’s throat a gentle squeeze. “Whose slut?”

Shawn’s eyes fly open, expression mildly panicked as though he’s desperate not to be misunderstood. “Yours - your slut.”

“Damn right,” Taker mutters and again rewards the admission with more rapid thrusts. “What else?”

Shawn lets out a small whimper as the pace backs off again and then looks Taker right in the eyes as with more intensity he says, “Your whore, sir.”

This time the increased speed is maintained and Taker shifts his hand from the slim throat to Shawn’s chest, plucking hard at his nipples.

“One of these days I’m gonna label you up with those names,” he says darkly. “Get a Sharpie out and spend a while marking ‘em out on you.” Shawn’s chest heaves and Taker knows he’s imagining that act taking place and so he goes on. “We’ll go out for dinner, real civilised, but you and me will both know that under your shirt you’re branded with all those dirty names that you love.”

“Fuck… please, sir. Please let me come?”

“You’ll wait ‘til you’re told, boy toy.” Taker puts his hand back behind Shawn’s knee, using it to anchor him in place for more vigorous treatment. He’s close himself but there’s no way he’s going to admit that so soon.

Beneath him Shawn looks down the line of his body at his dripping cock, the head weeping and red and wonders whether he’s capable of obeying.

Returning vaguely to the evening’s apparent theme Taker adds, “Bet you’d let me fuck you in front of the whole locker room, huh? You’d let everyone know that you’re all mine, to do whatever I want with, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes! God, yes, sir - want everyone to know - know that I’m yours!”

“Good boy.” Taker slows the pace but gives several deep thrusts, aiming them to hit Shawn’s prostate and grunts with satisfaction when his moans of pleasure become shouts. “Might even put a collar on you - nice one with a pretty tag that tells everyone who you belong to.”

Shawn squeezes his eyes shut, a thought fleeting through his brain about whether Taker might let him choose the colour. “Please, sir… please… I don’t know if I can… fuck, please!”

Without missing a beat Taker grabs the lube and gets a dose on to his hand before grasping Shawn’s cock and sliding it up and down. Shawn sobs and clings to the bed rail for dear life as he cries out desperately and Taker can’t help but feel some pity.

“Go ahead, boy toy - come for me.”

With a shout of relief Shawn lets go, his release shooting out in an arc as Taker milks him expertly even when the fluttering of his channel triggers the bigger man’s climax, making his hips stutter and shove hard against the blonde. The two of them are falling together in a bubble of perfect pleasure and as they eventually come down from the peak a silence settles over the room. Breaths slowly return to normal and having slipped out of Shawn, Taker crawls up over him once more and undoes the ties. As soon as his arms are free Shawn wraps them around the broad back and plants a kiss on to Taker’s shoulder.

“Can I choose the colour?”

Taker lifts his head in order to look down at smiling blonde. “Huh?”

“The collar. Can I choose the colour?”

Taker huffs out a laugh and kisses the tip of Shawn’s nose. “Nope - it’ll be black leather. But I’ll let you choose the tag, OK?”

‘

Shawn held a pillow tightly between his legs, his thighs tiring out from the strain. His hips bucked against it as he tried to get himself off discreetly. His lips roamed tentatively around your neck, uncertain of how much you would let him do to you.

He was horny, desperate for any taste of you that he could get. His cock was pulsing and he bit his lip to stifle a moan, stimulated by the friction and heat the pillow was providing for him. He was imagining you; everything he loved about you.

He was imagining how tight you were and how you squeezed his cock when he pushed it into you, arousal dripping all around him. He was remembering how good it felt to have you cum on him, your walls fluttering against his erect length as the warmth washed over him, pulling him along to euphoria. His fingers were tightening around the seam of the pillowcase as he visualized his fingernails digging into your hips as he gritted his teeth together and groaned in pleasure.

He was down hard, desperately needing to be rescued.

Biting his lip, he tried not to rock the bed as he relieved himself, but the look on his face was a dead giveaway. His eyebrows were furrowed, and there was a thin layer of sweat on his brow. He was breathing heavily and clearly holding in his sweet moans.

It was delicious to see him in that state. He was ready for anything that you did to him, whether it was gentle and affectionate or something wild and kinky. He was hungry for anything that would make him feel good, you in particular.

“Shawnie,” you said in a commanding voice as his tongue moved repeatedly against the sensitive spot beneath your jaw. “Poor neglected baby, do you need some attention?”

“Y-yes,” he stuttered breathlessly, jaw falling slack as he took you in. “I need you.”

“Looks like you’re doing just fine with that pillow,” you said bluntly. “Does it feel good?”

He nodded, his eyes widening in regret once he realized what he’d said. “But I want you more.”

“What do you want me to do to you?”

“F-fuck me,” he gulped, pulling the pillow closer to his chest for comfort. “You always make me feel so good,” he added, in hopes of you going easier on him. After all, it was evident that he didn’t need very much.

“You want me to fuck you?”

Shawn whimpered, the sound coming from the top of his throat. “Y-yes, mama,” he said hurriedly. “Please, I need you so bad.”

You used the tip of your index finger to trace small lines on his hard tip, which was standing up prominently, even inside of his briefs and sweatpants.

His head fell back limply as a moan clawed its way out of his throat.

You smirked and cocked your head to the side. “I don’t know if you can handle me tonight,” you pointed out. “So easy, so hard for me.”

He let out a sound like a kitten mewing as he rubbed himself against your hand, creating his own friction. He was still thinking about your hips, your ass, your pussy, your moans. Every horny thought possible was racing through his mind, doing nothing to relieve the blood that was coursing to his hard shaft.

You put your fingers into his innermost waistband, his briefs, and pulled them down. His sweatpants came down with them, allowing his dick to slap up against his abs, tiny droplets of precum leaking from his tip.

You stared in awe for a moment before recovering, assuming your dominant role before Shawn realized you’d lost it.

His eyes were shut, eyelashes resting gently on his precious cheeks. “Thank you, mama,” he breathed.

“Don’t thank me just yet, puppy,” you said in a condescending tone. “You’ve got to agree to a few things first.”

Shawn let out a whine as he squirmed against your hand, which was now wrapped around his hardened shaft, your thumb tracing circles on its head, picking up the little drops of arousal that spilled from it.

He was ready to agree to anything, as long as it would result in him coming inside of you.

“You can’t cum until I say so, alright?” You stared directly into his eyes, watching as the beautiful lust-swelled orbs fell down to his lap nervously.

“Alright?” you repeated. “I need your words and your eyes, please.”

“Yes, mama,” he repeated, making shy eye contact. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

This was all the approval you needed. You moved your closed hand up and down his shaft, stimulating the sensation of thrusting in and out of something.

Shawn sighed as a soft groan fell from his lips, only to have your fingers pressed against his lips. The friction he was getting moments earlier had vanished.

“Save those noises for later,” you instructed. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck me, mommy, please,” he begged, desperate to the point of tears. “I’ll be such a good boy. I want to cum in you, and I want to feel you cum on me…”

He could feel her stare penetrating him, he didn’t dare look up.

“I want to give you a baby,” he admitted, a red blush spreading over his cheeks and forehead.

“Oh, puppy,” she said severely, “what are those dirty thoughts doing in that pretty little mind of yours? Angels don’t think like that.”

“I’ll be such a good boy.”

“Good boys don’t talk like that.”

Shawn was near tears. He was so hard that it was painful. “I’m sorry, mama,” he choked. “I’ll be a good boy.”

“Gonna put a baby in me?” you mimicked. “And be a good boy at the same time?”

Shawn watched you carefully as you rolled over, and as soon as your legs were in the right position, he took the opportunity to push his hard cock into you.

You gasped at the force, exhaling sharply as you looked at his angelic face.

“Did I give you permission?”

Shawn lowered his head and whimpered, but never drew his cock from you. Just being inside of you made his hard state feel more bearable.

“I said, did I give you permission?”

“No, mama,” he answered, his eyes never meeting hers. “But I need you so bad.”

The catch in his voice is what convinced you to let him slide in and out of you a few times.

“Poor, needy baby,” you sighed. “You’re so horny, you can’t even thrust right.”

He looked at you with wondering eyes before he was thrown back against the cool white sheets with a force that made the bed bounce.

His cock slapped against his abs again, more precum oozing from its tip.

You had to admire him for a moment and take in how pretty he was with his honey-colored eyes, messy curls, and rock-solid dick. As soon as that moment was over, though, you began to ride him, pushing yourself onto his cock until it couldn’t go in any further. You did this repeatedly, never stopping.

Shawn was panting beneath you, struggling to buck his hips for added friction.

You let out a low growl as you felt a warm feeling swell deep within you. It would only be a matter of time until Shawn was cumming, so you had to make the most of it.

“Fuck,” he whined, trying to move away from you and escape the friction, but he had no such luck. “Fuck, baby, I need to cum.”

You ignored his words and continued bouncing up and down on his cock.

His thighs were shaking, his abs were tight, and a layer of sweat was spread all over him. A pool of arousal was accumulating where you were riding him, and it was dripping messily down his sides.

He loved looking at you while you rode him. Your face was so concentrated and experienced, yet free and youthful, and your tits bounced with you. Your hair was free and wild, and your pussy was tight around him, just the way he liked.

Your words were cutting him deeply tonight, but in all honesty, he found that incredibly sexy. He was a kinky fucker in general, turned on by the most pecular things, but degredation made him feel more aroused than anything else.

You were taking your dom role too especially serious tonight, never letting him squirm away from you. His received constant insults from you, which just made the burning sensation inside him grow. The more he struggled and squirmed beneath you, the more insults you’d hurl at him.

You were uncomfortably sweaty, unsure of how long you could continue your tantalizing speed, but you pushed on, driven by the look on your angel baby’s face.

He looked like he was in a lot of pain, but too afraid to show weakness. In your opinion, that was incredibly hot of him, and he deserved everything he felt.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his hips rocking shakily against yours, bruises covering them where he had made hard, repetitive contact with you. He could no longer hold it in, but you had one present left to give him.

“Hold it,” you commanded, voice ragged and hoarse from overuse. “I better not see a drop come out of you until I say so.”

Shawn bit his lip and held the feeling in obediently, trying to count how many times his heart beat during ten-second increments. He couldn’t. It was beating faster than a hummingbird flapped its wings.

Moving to lie beside him rather than on top, you rolled him over, just enough that his entire ass was showing. You took it in for a moment before reeling your hand back and slapping it against his pretty, firm cheeks. This action was repeated twice more, until you were satisfied by the handprint that was left behind.

A moan left his mouth after every sickening slap, the last one resembling a scream more, warning of his orgasm.

The sound threatened to make you cum on the spot, and your walls fluttered as a forewarning.

“Please,” he breathed hoarsely, his eyebrows furrowed in desperation, rewarded by a brusque, “not yet,” from you.

You took his shaft in your hand and kneaded it while you watched the pain on his face evolve into something terrible.

“Cum, baby,” you instructed breathlessly, and he wasted no time. He filled you with his creamy cum within seconds, and everything else spilled out of you and pooled on the sheets, creating slick seascapes with the wrinkles.

“A-aren’t you gonna cum, mommy?” he stuttered, voice husky and exhausted. “Didn’t I make you feel good?”

You stared at him for a long moment before he started moving. He squirmed further and further down the bed, stopping when his head was at the same level as your pussy.

He took it into his mouth, licking the arousal from your enterance before poking his tongue up to taste what was going on inside.

“Naughty boy,” you taunted, unable to think of anything meaner to say. “Angels don’t participate in such dirty acts.”

Unmoved by your words, he sucked your clit into his mouth and swirled his tongue tantalizingly against it.

You could feel his teeth brushing on it, and the feeling was unbearable. A hefty moan warned him that you were about to cum, so he positioned his mouth so he could take all of it in. That was a hard job. It just kept coming, but he had tasked himself with consuming all of it, and he wasn’t about to give up.

It tasted so good to him, and it was so warm and silky going down his throat. He nearly fell asleep from relief and fatigue, but he stayed awake, needing to swallow often so as not to choke.

He deserved all of the pain for all of the times he’d edged you or lied to you, and he deserved all of the euphoria for the joy, love and orgasms he brought to your life. The kinky sex between the two of you was a double edged sword. It was often rough and harsh, causing the submissive one to scream or cry in pain, but it always ended in snuggles and endless hours of “I love yous,” repeated into the early hours of the morning.

“Open your eyes,” a gentle, caring voice broke through his thoughts.

He opened his eyes sleepily to see you standing over him, placing a cool, damp washcloth on his sweaty forehead. His eyes squeezed shut again to squeeze out a chain of hot, stinging tears.

“You made me feel so good,” you breathed as you snuggled closer to him, placing another washcloth on the back of his neck. “You’re such an angel.”

A soft smile danced on his lips momentarily, but he was unable to keep his eyes open. He fell asleep without saying a word, and all that was left for you to do was admire him.

His cheeks were rosy, and his lips were swollen, his head was heavy, and his eyes were tired. He was warm everywhere, a magnet for you.

You rested your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes, too, willing sleep to take you away. Clean up could wait. After all, the morning seemed to loom far away.

 You hum, spreading your legs further as you watch him. His pretty eyes are almost mesmerized by you, watching your wet folds glistening in the dim lights. “Do you deserve that though, honey?”

 He’s silent for a moment and you decide you’ve had enough, sitting up abruptly and leaning closer to him. He’s on full alert, those hard muscles tightening as he holds his breath in anticipation of your next movements.

 You take his chin in your hand, pulling him into you to place a small kiss on those rosy lips. You’ve barely touched him and he’s already melting into you, moaning against your mouth as the light taste of corona fills your senses. He’s quick to slip his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around in a way that makes your head spin.

 He seems to get a rush of confidence at your momentary compliance, bringing a finger up to slide over your slit. You flinch back at the sensation, slapping his hand away as he sinks back down on his knees, knowing he’s overstepped.

 “Such a greedy boy.” You tut, leaning away from him again, his cheeks so brightly flushed that you can’t help but think of how good he would look between your thighs. But he hasn’t earned that yet.

 “I think you need to be taught a lesson.” You say softly, lying back onto the bed with a small smirk on your lips. You can hear Shawn’s breath catch as you spread your legs again, this time bringing the balls of your feet up to the edge of the bed to expose your dripping center.

 You stick two fingers in your mouth, swirling them around and releasing with a pop, before slowly making your way down your body. You reach your slit, lightly running a line over your already soaked core.

 You hear a throaty whimper escape Shawn’s lips, and you smile, knowing that he’s aching to touch you, aching to replace your fingers with his tongue. You flick your clit gently, arching your back as you release the softest moan, repeating the action a few times.

 Shawn’s barely breathing as he watches you, reacting to you almost instinctually as he tries to stay calm. His hands are itching to hold you, and he almost debates just tongue fucking you now, and dealing with the consequences later. But he’s your good boy, and he stays put.

 “Shawn,” you mumble after what feels like an eternity to him and he’s so lightheaded that he barely hears you. “Please.”

 He doesn’t have to ask what you mean, his head dipping between your thighs almost instinctually. He’s flattening his tongue over you and lapping up your wetness like he’s been starving for it, and in some way, he has.

 His grip is tight on your thighs but you love it, your head thrown back as you mutter his name over and over again.

 There’s a sort of worshipping about the way Shawn treats your body. It’s like a choreographed dance that only he knows the steps to, following the curve of your body with his skilled hands and tongue, ravishing you completely.

 “So good, baby.  S-so good for me.”

 He seems to spur on with the encouragement, sticking a long finger through your folds, only adding to the increasing pleasure. You scream out, but he’s showing no signs of hesitation, slipping another finger inside and pumping them in and out of your hole.

 He loves the way you twitch and squirm under him, and he swears that he’d do this every second of every day if you’d let him.

 You’re mewling over him, shaking against his face until you can feel him grinning between your legs, and you almost want to make him stop because he shouldn’t be enjoying this more than you, but he is doing too well and you love yourself far too much to make him stop.

 He’s slurping up your juices at an exhilarating pace and your back arches off the bed. You slip your fingers into his soft curls before you can stop yourself, gripping them harder than you intend to, but the guttural groan that leaves him makes your head spin, and you’re tugging even harder.

 “F- fuck Shawn.” Your legs are twitching as the familiar tingle begins forming in the pit of your stomach.

 “C’mon honey,” he’s mumbling into you, “Cum all over my tongue.”

 His words throw you over the edge and the feeling of floating surges over you once more, a feeling that only he can elicit. Shawn quickens his pace, leading you through your high, rubbing and sucking until you’re shaking from the overstimulation.

 He places a small peck on your clit before pulling away and crawling back up your body. His hands travel over your shivering frame and he places his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

 You open your eyes after a few moments, once your breathing finally calms down and you meet his eyes in the dimly lit room.

 The look in his golden colored ones almost makes you want to shy away, the intensity that radiates through them making you feel like he’s looking into the deepest parts of you. But this, you realize, is how he always looks at you, and the thought brings a small smile to your face and Shawn swears he’s never seen a prettier person in his entire existence.

 You take his cheeks in your hands before you can stop yourself, and practically smash your mouth to his. Your lips touching his seems to ignite him, and he’s pressing into you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he seemingly tries to merge your bodies together.

 His tongue slips into yours gently, almost teasingly and you curse silently, for subjecting yourself to someone that knows how to work their mouth this well. The sensation jolts you and you find yourself grinding down into him.

 Shawn separates from your mouth and finds a soft spot below your ear to lightly suck on. You gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive skin and you arch back again, closing the space between your naked core and his bulge.

 He whines at the feeling and bucks his hips into you, making you whine and repeat your action, loving how worked up you can make him. He’s so overworked and sensitive that you swear you’ve never felt him harder, his precum seeping into his boxers, making you spin your hips against him again.

 Shawn whines into your neck again. “Please.”

 You throw your head back, eyes shut as you try to hide your grin. “P –please what, baby?”

 You bring your hips down again and the sound he makes is the most desperate one you’ve ever heard, and it takes everything in you not to get on your knees and take him into your mouth over and over and over again.

 “Use your words, Shawn.” You try to keep yourself from screaming out as he bucks into you again.

 “Please honey,” he grunts through gritted teeth. “Please let me fill up this pretty pussy.”

 You moan out loud this time, making no effort to hide how much you wanted him to do exactly that. “Yes.” You manage through a gasp as he bites down on your neck again. “Fill me up, baby. Fill me with your cock.”

 You can feel him smirk against you, before moving back up to look at you through hooded eyes. “I love you.” He pecks your lips once. “You know that?”

 He pecks your lips again. And then your cheeks. And then your forehead, and you’re swatting him away and giggling so hard you almost forget how much you want him to nail you right now.

 “Shawn!” He kisses you over and over again, hitting your ticklish spots until you’re shaking under him and not in the way you want to be. “Stop!”

 “No.” He mumbles against your chest, kissing your boobs over and over again. “Not until you say it back!”

 “Nu-uh!” You mumble, shaking your head, but this only seems to make Shawn smile wider.

 He places the biggest, sloppiest kiss on your boob, before looking up at you, blinking innocently. “You know how much I love these. I could do this all night!”

 You know he can. “Fine! I love you! I love you so much! Now fuck me!”

 Shawn pecks your lips again, winking down at you, “Thought you’d never ask.” He gets up off the bed, slowly peeling his Calvin’s off, and you have to close your mouth to stop the drooling as his large manhood flops up onto his stomach.

 You shake your head to stop the filthy thoughts and sit up onto your knees. He recognizes the look in your eyes and practically crawls onto the bad, settling on his knees as well. He’s inches away, taller, and looking down at you with a fervent intensity that has you soaked.

 Your previous orgasm has washed away, and you’re aching for more. His hands are around your waist before you can blink, his warm tongue effortlessly slipping into your mouth and washing away all previous thoughts. The kiss is a mess of touches and whimpers but it speaks volumes and soon Shawn is seated at the headboard, with you straddling his hips.

 “God.” His head hits the hardwood as his eyes shut tightly as you suck on the soft spot under his left ear. A spot that never fails to have him twitching under you. His hands are gripping your ass so tightly you know he’s leaving marks, but it’s exactly what you want. A reminder of another perfect night in a string of memories tied to him.

 He’s hot to the touch, almost feverish and you melt into him, your chest pressed against his as you wrap your finger in those soft curls, massaging him until he’s groaning again.

 “Baby.” He swallows, trying to catch his breath. “Please let me fuck you.”

 You hum against his neck, running your soaked core over his dick and you swear he twitches.

 “Please.” His voice is three octaves too high and you know if his eyes weren’t closed that the pupils would be completely blown. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

 “You are?” You mumble into his skin. “Gonna be good for me, eh?”

 “Yes.” His eyes snap open, curls bouncing as he nods his head. “So good for you. S- so … ”

 His words are replaced by the gasp that leaves those rosy lips as you take his hardened cock into your hand. You moan in unison as you pump him a few times, running your thumb over his tip to collect the precum spilling out.

 You think about fisting him for longer, but you can’t ignore the tingling in your core,  needing him desperately.

 You sit up on your knees, lining him up with your wetness, running him up and down your slit a few times. His hands find a home on your hips, digging into the soft flesh as you slowly sink down on him.

 Your moan is instant and joins Shawn’s as you fill yourself completely with him. You place your forehead on his for a moment as you try to collect yourself, almost always having to adjust to his length.

 Moments later you straighten back up again, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down. Shawn’s groans have you hotter than ever and you’re desperately chasing his sounds.

 You quickly find as pace, bobbing up and down on him, trying your best to keep yourself upright. He’s hitting the deepest parts of you and you swear you’ve never felt this good before.

 “Fuck baby.” He whispers, leaning into you as you pick up speed, bouncing faster and faster as you chase your high. “So fucking tight. Love your sweet cunt.”

 Your eyes roll back as he bites into your shoulder, thrusting up to meet your pace. You try to say something in response, nothing but a bunch of high-pitched sounds leave you.

 “S-Shawn!” You finally manage and he recognizes the urgency in your tone, immediately picking up speed.

 “You gonna cum baby? You gonna cum all over my cock?”

 The filthy words coming from him, make your head spin and you can feel yourself clenching and unclenching around him. “Wanna cum – Wanna cum with you.”

 The growl that leaves his throat is unlike anything you’ve ever heard before and you almost release then and there, but his tight grip and heavenly pace keep you unable to think about anything.

 “You feel so good. So fucking good.” The sound of his balls hitting your skin is pornographic and you’re barely sitting up straight, thankful for Shawn’s strong arms wrapped tightly around you. “Wanna cum inside you. Please baby. Please let me cum inside you.”

 You waste no time in nodding, pulling at his hair as you crash your lips to his. “Cum. Fill me up… please…”

 His thumb is rubbing circles on your already sensitive clit and you’re twitching in Shawn’s arms as your head starts to spin, your orgasm washing over you at an unforgiving rate. Shawn doesn’t slow his pace, instead, throwing his head back as he thrusts into your pulsating core.

 The feeling is almost too much and he comes apart with a whimper of your name, shakily thrusting into you until he’s completely emptied out.

 You collapse onto him as you both try to catch your breath, your entire body sore. Shawn kisses your shoulder once, before rolling you over and laying you down on your back again.

 Your vision is hazy as you slowly blink your eyes open, settling on the sight of him ogling at the place where you’re still connected, his dick slowly pulling out of you. His groan is loud and visceral, wide eyes trained on his cum spilling out of your core.

 He seems almost transfixed as the view, his fingers trailing over your slit.

 You flinch back, shutting your legs, the sensitivity proving to be far too much. “I can’t.”

 Shawn separates your knees, exposing you to him again. “You have no idea how fucking good you look right now. Full of my cum.”

 You hum, a drunk like smile grazing your face as you imagine how good that must look.

 Shawn licks his lips, sticking a finger into you again, your cunt clenching around it immediately, “What’re you …”

 He pumps in and out of you a few times, muttering something under his breath before softly mumbling, “Fucking my cum back into you.”

 You whine, shutting your eyes as he adds another finger, the overstimulation making you reach your high in record time. You cum again, screaming his name until your throat is sore.

 You’re completely out of it, finally registering your surroundings as you feel Shawn’s light touches and the washcloth between your legs as he cleans you out.

 You try to mumble out a thank you but it comes out as a light hum, and Shawn chuckles softly, covering you with a sheet and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

 “Thank you for letting me take charge tonight.” You say after a few moments, cuddling up onto his chest. “Even though you went off script at the end.”

 His laugh is contagious and soon you’re both giggling. “Sorry honey. Hard to contain myself with you looking like that.”

 “Oh shut up.” You hit his chest. “You cheeseball.”

 “You love me.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Say it.” Your silence makes him tut loudly. “Do I need to assault your bo –”

 “I love you!”

-

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He glances up. Shawn holds his breath for the pop star response. It doesn’t come. He exhales.

“Do you speak English?” Shawn asks, wincing at how ignorant he sounds. The man nods boredly.

“Cool. Uh. Ok. I need to go to Ravello.”

“Si, Ravello. There is a train,” the man drawls, the slowest talking Italian Shawn’s ever met.

Shawn nods, uncertain. “Yeah. Right, yeah. But… can I get a car to drive me?”

The man even blinks slowly. “There is also a bus.”

Does this guy just not want business? Shawn sighs.

“Do you not take people to Ravello?” he tries, looking to bridge whatever gap this is as quickly as possible.

Finally, the man seems to give in. “Ravello is a long drive. 125 euro. We take--”

Shawn slaps his Visa down so fast the man stops abruptly and stares at him. He sees a tinge of crazy in Shawn’s travel-weary eyes. He fights the urge to roll his own and books the trip.

+

Shawn had hoped he’d start to relax in the car since at least then he’d know he was heading somewhere. There was no relaxing to be done.

His driver Giorgio seems to have gotten his start in Formula One. Shawn figures he should be grateful, given that the speed they’re driving at will probably cut the travel time in half. But he can’t help but wonder about the headlines if he dies in a fiery crash against the side of an Italian coastal mountain.

Pop Superstar Shawn Mendes Dies In Search Of Love, Giorgio to Blame

Shawn Mendes Perishes At The Height Of His Career, Unrecognizably Mangled

Shawn Mendes Is An Idiot, Fatally

He’s so sure there’s no way they’ll make it between the two trucks Giorgio decides to squeeze them through, but they do. Shawn slams his eyes shut and focuses on the Cez-approved meditation breathing exercises that, by the way, do not save you from your crazy Italian driver who almost plows into the back of a Peugeot going god knows how fast on the E45.

But at least he points out Mount Vesuvius. And doesn’t crash them into it.

They lose sight of the ocean for a while, which makes Shawn panic. The guy isn’t using a GPS, claims he knows every corner of every town on the Amalfi Coast. That sounded a lot better to Shawn before he got in the car, before they were winding through something called the “Riserva Statale Valle delle Ferriere,” which seems as good a place as any to ditch a body.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

It’s a chant in his head until, by some miracle, he catches sight of the water again and it’s exactly like every Instagram travel post he’s ever seen of the Amalfi Coast. He thanks whatever god there is, and thanks Giorgio, too, who grunts.

Ravello, Shawn’s not surprised to report, is fucking beautiful. Cliffs appear out of nowhere and spill off down bleached white coastline to crystalline turquoise water. It’s a goddamn postcard. The town, from what he can see of it from above, is a scattered board of colorful post-its clinging to the side of a mountain. His hungry brain tells him he can smell fresh pasta and seafood, but he knows it’s just an illusion of a man who ate half an airplane meal and a couple stale biscotti several hours ago.

Rather than descend toward the coast, Giorgio winds him around the hills past farms of lemon trees. The sun hangs low. Shawn thanks his lucky stars that he’s not having to deal with locating this place in the dark.

Giorgio stops at the base of a dirt road sporting a sign with Mia’s address. Shawn practically flings himself out of the car, almost forgetting his backpack. He shoves his Tom Ford sunglasses on against the harsh snap of the late afternoon sun. He looks around. Along the dirt path, hardly even a road, are rows upon rows of grape vines. It seems the house name is literal after all. He’ll be sure to tell Silver if he makes it out of this alive.

He starts walking.

It’s a trudge, really, up a reasonably steep hill. He slips once or twice and puts a knee into the dust, kicking up a froth of it around him that clings to his sweaty skin and white t-shirt. By the time he finds Mia, he’s going to look like he swam and crawled all the way to her. 

Good.

He crests the hill to find… more hills. There are a series of large buildings that don’t look anything like homes, more like warehouses or farmhouses. Given that it’s not yet harvest season, only a few hands are out tending the vines. He descends towards them, probably looking as ridiculous as he ever has in his life.

They seem to want to ignore him. It’s a habit of Italian men, maybe. He has to wave and walk straight up to the closest figure, an older, shorter man with only a few teeth to speak of.

“Ciao. Uh… Mia Bianchi?”

Shawn hopes if she’s the lady of the house, they’ll know to take him to her. The man stares back blankly.

“Uh… dove… Mia Bianchi?” he tries again. The man looks over his shoulder at his coworkers, who’ve stopped to stare at the tall, sunburnt Canadian idiot. Shawn sighs.

He doesn’t even have a picture to show them. She’s the love of his stupid life and he doesn’t even have a picture of her.

Except that he does. He has a lot of them. Black and white and sparkling. And completely inappropriate to be sharing with a bunch of strange farmhands. He grunts and reaches for his phone anyway, nearly dead, just like his chances of making this stupid romantic gesture work.

Shawn zooms in carefully to just her face and shows it to the smaller man. He squints and attempts to touch the screen, but Shawn nearly slaps his hand away.

“Dove Mia Bianchi?” he almost whines.

One of the younger hands strides up and glances at the picture. He exchanges a few words with the others and looks Shawn over. He sighs and nods at a golf cart a few yards away, then walks towards it.

Shawn blinks, then follows.

If nothing else, it’s a faster way to get over the hills. Plus, if he’s on the vineyard, she can’t be far, right?

“Mia?” Shawn asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

The guy shrugs. It’s not very comforting. But Shawn’s out of options, so he gets in the cart.

The hills just keep going. After about ten minutes of cruising along and over them with nothing but vines in sight, he’s suddenly incredibly grateful for the ride. He glances over at his driver, seemingly much more sane than Giorgio.

“Shawn,” Shawn says, pointing to himself with a flat smile and a little wave.

The man nods. “Maurizio.”

“Grazie, Maurizio,” Shawn grunts, sitting back as they ascend another, steeper hill. He worries for a moment about the possibilities of this golf cart skidding back down from whence it came. It becomes unimportant when they reach the peak and he sees a house.

Well, it’s not just a house. It’s practically a palace. From behind it, he can see the way it sprawls over tens of thousands of square feet. There’s a pool, he thinks, and a few different gardens, and it looks like a grove of trees, maybe olive or citrus, he’s not sure. At some point, the path turns from dirt to pebbles and the ride gets louder. It almost drowns out Shawn’s heartbeat in his ears.

Maurizio slows under the shade of two old stone pine trees and turns up a narrow path lined by lush, well-tended gardens replete with color. He takes the curve around the fountain in the center of the path slow enough for Shawn to notice the detailing. The basin of the fountain is held up by a sculpture of a renaissance-style naked woman. Curled against her, with his arm around her hips, is a man helping her hold it up. His face is tucked tenderly into her neck.

The cart stops. Maurizio clears his throat. Shawn stands and steps off.

“Uh, grazie!” he calls as Maurizio starts to gun it back down the path. Maurizio looks back at him and laughs in a way Shawn doesn’t need translated.

You’re a fucking idiot.

Shawn sighs for the millionth time that afternoon. He knows.

It’s golden hour on the coast. Behind the red tiled roof, the sun spills marigold light everywhere it touches, including the belltower on the chapel beside the main house. Green shudders flap gently in the evening breeze. The front door is wide open. The smell of fresh bread has Shawn’s mouth filling with saliva. He starts to head toward the door when he hears something.

Off to the left, down a grassy footpath, he follows it. It’s as familiar to him now as her perfume, as the feeling of her hair in his fingers, as the smile she gives him when he’s very good for her.

He’d know Ol’ Blue Eyes anywhere now.

It’s one of his Italian tracks, playing off a turntable parked in another open door on the side of the house. He drops his bag beside it, smiling when he hears pruning shears and quiet steps. The record sleeve reads “Come Back to Sorrento.”

He takes a deep breath and follows the sound of the shuffling steps. Sinatra’s voice fades as Shawn nears a small grove of olive trees. The grass below his feet is dappled with shade and the streaming sunset light. A breeze rustles a wave of red fabric out behind the trunk of a tree toward the back of the grove. 

Shawn holds his breath, watching a long bronzed leg follow it, stepping backward, then another. She’s on her tiptoes, barefoot in a deeply red mid-length sundress, the cap sleeves fluttering around her arms that follow her focused eyes to the branches above her head. She hasn’t spotted him yet. He could still run. He doesn’t have to stand here until she throws her pruning shears at his head for showing up at her family home unannounced in fucking Italy.

Mia turns her head to check on another branch and he lands in her periphery. Her lips part. Her eyes blow wide like saucers. The shears fall by her feet. She lowers off her toes to face him. The wrap dress hugs her everywhere he’d like to.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, lifting a hand into her hair just as another breeze picks up around them, lifting her dress around her knees to wave at him.

“So… uh… ciao,” Shawn nearly chokes.

+

Mia just stares for a minute. It feels like forever since she’s seen him, even if it’s only been a couple weeks.

He’s fucking glorious even covered in dirt. His hair is a little matted and sweaty, like he was wearing a hat. His white shirt clings to him. His black jeans have patches of dirt on the knees that give her flashbacks to the day she took him to Malibu in her Aston Martin. She shivers.

“What-- I mean, how… I don’t…”

“Silver told me you quit,” he blurts.

Mia’s eyes seem to swell again, then shut as she groans. “She gave you the address.”

“Yeah. I think… I think maybe she wanted you to want to see me.”

Mia chews on the inside of her lip. Another breeze tickles through the olive branches, surrounding them with a light earthy scent. Shawn shifts anxiously on his feet.

“So you just… showed up,” Mia murmurs. It’s a statement of fact, expressionless. She doesn’t sound annoyed or surprised or, to Shawn’s slight disappointment, pleased. But he knew better than to expect that. Or he thinks he should have.

Shawn shrugs. “I think after everything you’ve done for me, you deserve the effort.”

Mia’s lips tuck in slightly at the corners. She nods down at her feet. “Effort, huh?”

Shawn fights the urge to reach for her, even though it feels right. He wants to do this delicately.

Patience. That’s what Silver told him. If there’s anyone besides Mia he should be listening to right now, it’s Silver.

“I came because I want to talk to you. About everything.” His voice sounds impressively calm to his own ears, even as he feels his hands shake.

Mia looks up and immediately past him into the kitchen. She cards a fluttering strand of hair behind her ear and clears her throat.

“I have extra towels. You can clean up in the guest bath.”

She swerves around him and into the house. He stands there in the grove for a moment or two, blinking after her.

+

He’s not knocked out, he’s just… regrouping. That’s what Shawn decides in the shower as he scrubs the salty sweat from his hair and watches reddish dust swirl down the drain.

He was struck dumb when she led him up the stairs to one of what looks like many guest rooms. She got him a fluffy towel and showed him how to work the faucet because it’s a bit tricky. She turned and left without another word.

Shawn didn’t have a speech prepared or anything, he didn’t write a sonnet on the long trudge up to the house, but he didn’t expect her to shut down as soon as he started getting into it, whatever it was going to be. That took the wind out of his sails.

He’s not giving up. Not yet. If after a real conversation she says she does not love him and wants him out of her house, he’ll go. He’ll hold his head high and leave, knowing he put his heart on the line. And he’ll be ok.

Shawn’s breath shakes. He blinks quickly under the spew of warm water above his head. He plants a hand against the wall for stability. It’s the first time he’s let himself think about it, really consider the idea. What if he really actually made all this up in his head? What if she’s really as good as what he pays for and feels nothing for him beyond a professional sort of fondness? Or perhaps worse, what if she’s had feelings, but they’re not enough?

He closes his eyes and slowly scrubs his face with his pruny hands. He’s conspicuously been in the shower a long time. He bets she doesn’t mind -- gives her time to strategize.

Shawn lifts his head and turns off the faucet. He doesn’t want her strategies or her carefully delivered lines. He wants her.

He wants Mia as much as he wants Penny.

+

For once, Mia does something that would make the former owner of this home, her great grandmother, very proud. She sets aside her panic, confusion, irritation and angst and prepares for a guest.

She sets the table. She decants a bottle of Castello di Ama chianti. She hauls the record player back inside and switches over to Dean Martin’s Italian Love Songs and decides not to overthink the choice. She sets to work on a quick spaghetti alla vongole with the clams she bought at the market this morning. Her homemade loaf of ciabatta rests warm in a checkered cloth on the table.

Anything to distract herself.

But then she almost lops off a finger slicing the bread. She nicks the pad of her thumb and gasps, instinctively squeezing her fingers around the wound to staunch the bleeding.

“Hold on, I’ll get a napkin.”

She turns from the counter to see Shawn in a t-shirt and sweats at the bottom of the stairs, his hair shining wet against his neck. He swipes a paper napkin off a credenza and meets her at the counter. She watches him as he checks the cut, dabs it with the paper, wraps his hand around it to apply pressure and holds it over her head.

He looks down at her. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not really,” she murmurs, sounding sheepish.

He’s closer now to her than he was before. Holding her arm over her head seems an oddly intimate gesture between two people who’ve seen and done a lot more. It’s heightened by the way he caresses her palm with his fingers. He doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it.

“God, I missed you so much,” he says quietly, shaking his head.

Mia aches with the returning words and lets them rattle through her bones. She’s not going to say them back.

“I really don’t know what you were thinking coming here. Did you cancel work stuff? What about the album? And the tour?”

Shawn seems unfazed. “I’m on a break before we start working on tour promo. I actually went to your house. Got worried when I didn’t see Pammy’s leash outside.”

Mia’s eyes flash with affection. “She’s… staying with Gus for a while.”

Shawn nods slowly. “I bet you miss her.”

Mia’s eyes drop. Her other hand, gripping the counter behind her to keep from grabbing at him, squeezes tighter.

“Of course. All the time.”

After another few seconds of Shawn’s intense staring and Mia’s equally intense avoidance, he lowers her hand. The small cut has stopped bleeding. He cups her palm, kissing it gently. Mia turns away.

Shawn’s head drops. He sighs.

“So. You quit.”

Mia continues slicing bread. “Yes.”

“I’m surprised. I know how happy it made you.”

Mia’s stomach swoops. The ease with which he talks about her profession still strikes her sometimes when she least expects it. He talks about it like it’s any other job, like he never for a second thought to judge her for it.

“It got too complicated. I have other things I wanted to focus on.”

She takes the freshly sliced bread to the table. He follows with the bowls of salad and pasta.

“Like what?” he chirps.

Mia grunts, irritated. “A project. It’s a charitable thing.”

He seems to decide not to push for the moment. She tucks into her bowl of pasta, eager for something to shut him up.

He hums, bobbing his head as he slurps up a bite. “This is fucking great. I didn’t know you can cook.”

She shrugs. “I’m an Italian woman, Shawn. If I can’t cook, I shame my ancestors.”

He smiles as he swallows and reaches for his wine. He looks oddly relaxed, comfortable in her favorite surroundings. It strikes her as odd, suddenly, that he’s here. She’s never brought any non-family member here before. Not even Silver. Definitely not a client.

But Shawn brought himself. He flew 12 hours and, Mia knowing the journey well, probably took trains, buses, ferries and god knows what else to arrive on her doorstep.

She has yet to truly reckon with it. She sips at her own glass and watches him look around.

“This house is incredible. It’s a family place?” he asks.

Mia swallows and nods carefully. “For a long time. My great grandmother was the last one who lived here full time. We sold the vineyard in the 90s. The rest of the estate is still ours.”

Shawn looks around at the vaulted ceilings and the rustic stucco walls and stone floors. A glass door looks out onto a vast back patio strung with twinkle lights that overlooks the acres of vineyard land that used to belong to her family. The farmhands have packed it in for the evening. There’s no one in sight all the way to the horizon, where the sun has burst into flames of pink and gold. Shawn hasn’t felt this far away in a long time.

When he looks back, Mia doesn’t bother to look away. She knows the games are over. Glancing away from his pretty face so he doesn’t catch her staring won’t work anymore. He’s not here for a game. She swallows and feels her heart in her throat.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long,” Shawn murmurs. He sits forward across the smooth oak table. The sunset light catches him through the window. It makes his intense gaze even more entrancing. Mia’s fingers twitch around her wineglass.

“Don’t apologize. I don’t think I’m ready to hear whatever it is you’re about to say.”

She watches something flicker in his eyes uncertainly. He wets his lips and seems determined to soldier on.

“Mia, I know this wasn’t the plan. For either of us. It was never supposed to become… this. But I think it’s been something real since at least Vegas. Maybe before. And I think it’s as real to me as it is to you.”

Mia’s heart sprints. She knew what he was going to say. She’s known since he showed up in her little olive grove. She’s not sure why being so close to hearing the words has her pulsating in her own skin. She shifts in her seat.

“Shawn, please…” she begins, shaking her head, “I don’t want to put you through this. I know you’re already here and… god, I still can’t believe you’re here. But I don’t want to make you say it.”

“Why?” he presses, “Why can’t I say it?”

Mia closes her big brown eyes. He misses them immediately.

“Because it’s not going to make a difference. It can’t.”

She opens her eyes when she hears his wooden chair creak. He’s sitting back, his jaw tight, his eyes still on hers. He swirls the wine in his glass absently.

“Tell me I’m crazy. Not for coming out here, not for wanting this with you, tell me I’m crazy and I imagined all of it. Tell me it was all for show, all for money. Tell me Rio wasn’t real, or your house, or my house. Fuck, tell me Vegas wasn’t real. Mia, tell me you don’t love me. Please. If it’s true, please tell me.”

It’s silent. They’re far enough up the mountain from the town of Ravello that there’s no sound but the breeze in the trees and Mia’s heartbeat in her ears. She feels her face going scarlet with every word. Her hand shakes in her lap where he can’t see it.

She sits up tall, channeling Silver, and thumbs at the base of her glass.

“Like I said, it doesn’t make a difference.”

“How could it not?” Shawn hisses. He sits forward again, his gaze imploring, “Mia, it’s the only thing that matters.”

Mia scoffs. It’s patronizing and ugly. Shawn flinches.

“We both know better than that. We’re not teenagers, Shawn. Actually, even if we were, we’d be in the same position. You’ve been very famous for a very long time. I was never an option for you the same way you’ve never been an option for me,” Mia explains, her voice quivering under her false calm.

“Jesus Christ, Mia, you’re not an option,” Shawn spits. His eyes seem to darken, or maybe it’s a trick of the fading sun, “You’re the one. You’re the fucking one.”

Mia’s eyes drift shut as they well up. She lifts her hands into her silky hair and releases a rocky sigh.

“You’re not thinking. You have to think, Shawn, not just feel. This is your whole life we’re talking about. You know I can’t just fit into it. I would be catastrophic for you. Anyone could tell you that. Andrew would be first in line, I bet.”

Shawn stands. He walks to the door and stares at the rolling hills strung with vines like Christmas lights, neat strands growing darker with the night. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“If I let Andrew tell me who I can and can’t be with, my life isn’t mine. I’ve experienced something close enough to that this summer. I know I agreed to it, I know I was complicit in the whole thing, but I’m not interested in that anymore. If that’s where I really am in my life and my career, none of this is worth it. And that’s not even about you, Mia, that’s about me. I won’t put up with that. I’d sooner fucking quit and never play a show again if it meant I couldn’t be with someone I love because of however it looks to some people.”

Mia’s chest shudders. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. I can’t live with that, please.”

He whirls on his heel and stares at her, eyes hot. “Don’t say what? That I’d give it up for you if I had to? Fuck, Mia, of course I would. What kind of fucking human being would I be if I picked being famous over the person that I love?”

“Stop, please,” Mia begs, shaking her head, pressing her face into her hands.

She hears him shuffle over the stone to her. His fingers are gentle as they pry her hands off her face. He cups her wrists, massaging them slowly.

“Hey,” he whispers, the aggression in his voice gone as quickly as it came, “It doesn’t matter. That’s not our reality, it doesn’t have to be. I don’t have to make that choice, so neither do you.”

Mia’s lower lip quivers. “Shawn, I don’t think you realize what would really happen if you stood up in front of the whole world and told them you love a whore.”

Shawn releases her hands. The corners of his lips turn down. His eyes are hard and somehow cracked.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say that. I know you don’t even believe that. You’ve never thought of yourself like that, I know you haven’t. You know you’re so much more than that.” His voice grows louder as he continues until he’s shouting.

Her brow furrows. “You don’t know! You don’t know anything! The things I’ve done, the things I’ve said, the things I’ve had done to me. Shawn, if you had an inkling of the depraved… fuck. If you had any idea at all, you wouldn’t be saying this. You probably wouldn’t come near me ever again.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” he barks back, his eyebrows lifting, “Really? Fine. I’ll call that bluff. I’ll sit here with you all night if you want. Tell me everything. Every filthy detail. Sorry, Mia, it’s not that fucking easy. I won’t love you any less.”

“You can say that now! You don’t know, Shawn! You don’t even know me. What do you know? You know my dog, you know my music taste, sure, you know my name. What if everything Penny did was a lie? What if you love a ghost?”

Shawn goes cold. He stiffens all over. She watches it from his eyes down. She freezes in place.

“Don’t try to tell me I love something that isn’t real,” he breathes. There isn’t even a hint of uncertainty in his face or voice. Mia looks down at her feet.

Shawn steps forward again. Slowly, gently, he cups his hands around her neck, his thumbs working softly into her jaw.

“We can talk about image and PR and logistics. We can talk about Andrew and the headlines and the future. But don’t insult me, honey. I know what’s in front of me. I know what I love. I love you. I love you, I love you. We can talk about the rest, but we can’t talk about that. That’s real and it’s not up for discussion.”

Mia’s eyes close, pressing the building tears down her cheeks. Her head lowers in defeat. Shawn’s hands skim down her shoulders to her upper arms. He plants his lips on top of her head and breathes. Two deep inhales, two deep exhales. Then he steps away and heads back up the stairs.

+

Neither of them sleeps that night. He’s in the guest room down the hall from her master suite. At around 3am, she gives up altogether and sits out on her balcony under the crescent moon wrapped in a chenille blanket. She’s convinced that inside she can hear him breathe. 

Meanwhile he sits at the end of his bed, sheets half torn off from his tossing and turning, begging for words. He’s never had to beg before. His artistic, lyrical brain has handed them to him his whole life. Those aren’t the words he needs now. He needs the ones that will convince her.

+

When she wakes up, he’s downstairs in a t-shirt and boxers. His hair is sticking up everywhere. He’s staring hopelessly at her espresso machine. She knows he hears her come down the stairs, but he doesn’t turn around.

Silently, Mia arrives by his side. She presses a few buttons until the machine starts to whir. She reaches up to the cabinet above her and pulls down two tiny espresso cups. When she hands him one, their fingers touch. They both nearly jolt apart.

She spends the morning outside. She gets her white sundress filthy picking citrus off the trees. She hauls baskets and baskets full up to the porch. Each time she brings one up, it disappears and ends up on the counter, but she never sees Shawn move them.

At lunch, he smells more seafood. She glistens with sweat over a deep dutch oven full of hot oil, frying calamari. He slices lemons and opens the bottle of white she has on the counter, pouring them glasses. They eat silently, picking at their salads, letting Rosemary Clooney’s voice do their talking. When he finishes, Shawn looks at Mia. Mia looks up at Shawn. He takes her hand and guides it to his lips, a silent thank you. She lets him touch her for five seconds before she pulls away and heads back out to the lavender garden. When she comes back for dinner, the kitchen is clean and the fruit is stored in the butler’s pantry.

She roasts a chicken with rosemary and thyme, along with some potatoes and carrots and lets him rest his hand on her knee while they finish a bottle of wine.

“I found a guitar upstairs,” he confesses, chewing his wine-stained lower lip.

She glances over at him. “My grandfather’s. It’s old and shitty but yours to use if you want it.”

He nods appreciatively, rubbing his thumb into her warm skin. She aches to rest her fingers on his pulse, just to prove he’s really there.

That night, they clean up together. He walks her to her room and kisses her cheek. She doesn’t hear his footsteps walk away from her door for a long minute after she closes it.

His gentle plucking of the guitar from down the hall puts her to sleep.

+

She’s gone when Shawn wakes up. He lets himself panic for only a minute or two. All her stuff is still here, and this is her house, after all. She returns around lunch in an old pickup truck with bags from the market. Eggs, cream, cocoa, fresh mascarpone. She announces she’s making tiramisu for after their branzino dinner. She smiles a little, tentatively, and it nearly makes him fall at her feet.

Neither of them seems interested in disappearing today the way they did the day before. They hover near each other, rotating positions, swirling like opposing magnets. Shawn keeps the guitar close. Once he gets it in tune, it doesn’t sound too bad. He works on a melody. He thinks it must be good because she’s humming along in the kitchen while she prepares a batch of limoncello and rosemary gelato. 

(He doesn’t know what army she’s cooking for, but he just hopes he gets to be a part of it.)

He finishes the song that afternoon, pacing around the lavender garden with a sprig of it tucked behind his ear. When he’s satisfied and turns to head inside around sunset, he clocks her on a balcony above looking very settled, like she’s been there a while. She’s far enough up that she didn’t hear it, so she must’ve just been watching him.

They eat in silence -- branzino with lemon, citrus salad, arugula with balsamic, then tiramisu for dessert. They nearly finish two bottles of wine, like they’re both preparing to get mouthy. Shawn goes first.

“I think I knew when I bought the necklace. Like, I don’t know how I knew, but I knew. I knew what it would mean to you to have that. I wanted so badly to give you something as meaningful as what you’ve given me.”

Mia stiffens at the sudden conversation after a long drought. She recovers quickly, thanks to the wine.

“What I gave you was sex, Shawn. A lot of it. Really good sex that required you to make no decisions, gave you no responsibility. I took care of you in a way you’ve never been taken care of before.”

His eyes flash and Mia regrets her words immediately.

“If you really think I don’t know the difference between sex and love by now, you must think I’m a fucking moron.”

Mia’s chest deflates as she sighs. “I don’t think you’re a moron.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re treating me like one,” he jabs, draining his wine. She misses his heavy, warm hand on her knee when he stands and starts pacing back and forth in front of the table.

Mia stares at him, tensed with every word she won’t let herself say, every feeling she’s been beating back for months. Her spine aches. Her brain swims. Her mouth is dry.

Shawn stops suddenly so that his boot skids a little on the stone floor. Mia blinks quickly.

He stands in front of her, staring. Slowly, without moving his eyes from hers, he lowers to his knees, turning her in her seat to face him. Having his hands on her again makes her want to scream. She waits, holding her breath.

“I just need you to say it. Please. I know you don’t think it’s enough, so it can’t hurt, right? Because there’s a part of me, the piece I hate, the piece I’ve always hated and that’s always hated me that still wants to convince me it’s not true. So please, please, just once, just say it. Say it if it’s true.”

Mia’s knuckles are white as she grips her chair. They feel oddly detached and wiry when she pries them up, flexes them, and sieves them into his hair. His eyes shut. He lowers his head to rest in her lap. She takes a deep breath.

“I love you, Shawn Mendes.”

+

Mia’s on the counter in an oversized t-shirt, swinging her feet, eating limoncello and rosemary gelato out of the freezer bowl. Shawn stops at the bottom of the stairs and smiles at her. His love for her gets so big it feels ready to explode out of his ears.

He shuffles up to lean beside her at the counter with the extra spoon she offers. They eat quietly, smacking their lips.

“So what’s the charity project?”

He catches her off guard while she puts away the rest of the ice cream. She stands upright, a little too straight, then catches herself and forces herself to relax.

“Uhm… it’s an idea I had a long time ago. A non-profit sort of thing for La Splendeur. A way to look out for the girls that are working jobs like mine but on the street. It’s always seemed so arbitrary to me, you know? The women that wind up as courtesans making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year flying all around the world doing the same thing that women standing on street corners do, constantly putting their lives in danger. Sex work is so odd that way.”

Shawn nods thoughtfully. “How can you help them?”

He watches her brighten a little, scooping hair behind her ears as she explains.

“Resources make all the difference. Women like that end up there because they don’t have resources. We can provide shelter, safety, rehabilitation if necessary. We can start a scholarship fund. We can offer career counseling and interview practice and resume building. Or we can help them organize and stay safe so they don’t end up with pimps. They just need help, and money can provide a lot of that.”

He bobs his head, clearly interested. “So where does the money come from?”

“Philanthropists and investments. Between Silver and I, our network is pretty vast. A lot of the donors will likely prefer to remain anonymous because of the nature of it, but we only need a couple powerful people that would speak up and draw attention. If they say it’s ok to care, it’s ok to care. Julia Granger and Christian Becker could be those people.”

Shawn cracks a smile. “So where are you in all this?”

Mia smiles back, infected by the pride written all over his face. “Silver and I are finalizing the paperwork for the creation of the non-profit. We’ll start approaching investors formally when I get home.”

Shawn ducks his head, turning his enormous, goofy smile down at his feet. “That’s incredible, Mia.”

His voice is gentle, touched. She tingles all over. She wants to run into his arms just to feel them around her again. She locks her own around her chest instead.

“Th-thank you. It’s been a long time coming.”

They lock eyes again. The air sizzles.

Mia smiles sadly. The silence is pregnant with potential headlines written about the Canadian golden boy loving the whore who wants to help the whores. Shawn scrabbles for words to fight them off but comes up choked and huffing breath.

He watches her disappear outside, heading for the vineyard.

+

The bottoms of Mia’s feet are nearly black. She takes a sick sort of pleasure in it. It makes her feel like a kid again, she guesses. Reminds her of chasing Peter around the gazebo, skinning knees, playing “scuba divers” in the pool while their family ate and drank and sang, happier in Ravello than they ever were in New Jersey.

She sits on the swing beneath the pergola, listening to him sing now. The house is so much quieter than it used to be, but no less filled with love. It’s a different kind of love. And despite their desperation to beat it away, it gets stronger every second. Shawn is the strong one, the brave one, she thinks, letting it into his heart before she could. 

Because it’s not like he’s not scared. She knows he is. She can hear it in his voice and see it in the way he holds himself around her. He can’t know what would happen if they made it real -- could they last? Could they manage to see past all the bullshit the papers would surely print and hold on? If they did, would their love be worth anything after all the bulletholes and sharp words?

She hugs her knees to her chest and closes her eyes, leaning into his melody. She has the song memorized now. He keeps playing it the same way like he’s planning on changing something but never does. She already knows it’s perfect.

It’s a love song about tortured yearning, a hidden love, a love that’s bursting, searching for the sunlight. Mia thinks it’s his best ever. She considers herself biased.

After the sun sets, she heads inside. He’s not really playing anymore, just kind of plucking away. She needs to think about getting dinner ready. He’s sweet, offering to cook, since she does so much of it, but she really loves cooking Italian food with Italian ingredients in Italy and won’t think of wasting an opportunity. Plus, she still loves taking care of him.

The stairs to the wine cellar are cool, worn stone. The cellar is built into the foundation of the house, which was once part of a fortress that stood on their property in the 11th century. Now lined with shelves of hundreds of bottles of every variety of Italian wine, it’s one of Mia’s favorite spots.

His footsteps are quiet, too. He’s adopted her barefoot lifestyle. He stops at the bottom of the stairs.

Facing the wall of dolcettos from the 80s, Mia twirls a finger around a protruding bottle, covered in dust, with a foil cap.

“I used to hide down here when Peter and I played hide and seek. For some reason he never thought to look down here. I always thought it was so obvious.”

Shawn steps closer, hands in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders slightly hunched.

“Maybe he wanted to let you win.”

Mia smirks, looking over her shoulder at him. “Maybe.”

She turns, her arms crossed behind her back, leaning against a shelf. He fixes his eyes on hers, biting the inside of his lip.

“I’m not… I mean, I’m not saying it would be easy,” Shawn murmurs, rubbing at the back of his sunburnt neck, “I know better than anyone how it all works. I don’t want you to think I’m just ready to throw us both to the wolves. I wouldn’t do that to you or to us. I just want to talk about it, for real. I… I know we’re worth it, honey.”

Mia’s chest inflates. She tilts her eyes up at the low ceiling. Her tears start hot and fast.

“I could be the thing that ruins everything you worked so hard for. I don’t want that for either of us. I’m not sorry about who I am or what I’ve done, despite what I’ve said. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to be ripped apart publicly for it. That kind of attention puts more pressure on a relationship than either of us is really prepared for. You have to know that.”

Shawn nods slowly. “I do. I know. I don’t want that for you or for me. But I don’t think that’s the only outcome possible. I think this would take a lot of thought and discussion about what we’re both comfortable with. And it’s going to take some of both of us… letting go a little. Which I know isn’t your favorite thing.” He looks at her pointedly, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Mia chuckles for the first time in days. “Point taken.”

Shawn senses cracks in the veneer with the way she’s looking at him now, like she actually might be considering it, all of it. For him. With him.

He takes a chance, and takes her hand.

“And the most important thing is we go at our own pace. We… I mean, obviously, we’ve done and seen a lot already. And I know I have so much left to learn about you. We can focus on that first, just getting to know each other more. I know how to make a relationship really loud, but I know how to keep it quiet, too. If that’s what you want.”

She looks down at their entwined fingers. She blinks quickly and feels her heart rate pick up, like her body knows something her mind hasn’t decided yet. She swallows and looks back up at him.

“I’ve never been both Penny and Mia with one person before. Because I know I am both. Penny’s as much a part of me as Mia is. I got good at letting them share my body because they never inhabited it at the same time. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s supposed to work. How I’m going to be caretaker and businesswoman, domme and girlfriend. I don’t know how to be someone who wants to be honest and upfront about my history and also wants a big white wedding and a couple kids. So if I don’t know how to do that, be that, how can you know and love that about me?”

Shawn’s smile is cautious but warm. He scoops up her other hand and cradles them close to his chest. He’s not afraid of showing her how his heart is clanging around in his chest. She’s had a piece of it in her body for a while now.

“Because it’s you, Mi. Whether or not you’ve meant to, you’ve let me know both. I’ve loved both this whole time. I just want the chance to be there with you as you figure it out.”

Mia looks up at him. She thinks about the night they met -- watching him come completely undone, taking a sip from his glass, waking up to see him slam his eyes shut to pretend he wasn’t watching her. She sees the same look of wonder in his eyes now as he looks down at her, all of her. Mia always knew she was worth loving. Having someone else figure that out was always the part she wasn’t sure of. But she’s sure now. He is, too.

Mia pulls her hands from his, sliding them up his chest. She plucks at the curls at the back of his neck, tugging him closer as she presses back against the shelf. Shawn’s breath hitches in his chest. His hands fall to her hips.

Mia nods, no words of protest left. His lips are gentle against hers, confident and calm. She lets him take the lead this time.

--------------

Grazie mille 💜