powerofelvis - Tumblr blog

powerofelvis · 4 months

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I’m truly blown away that people are inspired by my work. Even though I’m not sure when I’ll be returning to tumblr (if ever), I just wanted to come on here to express my gratitude to @rjmartin11 for reaching out to me about doing a prequel to Sweets For My Sweet. And she did it Justice. Thank you so much for giving Candy and Elvis the story that they deserved. Although it ended sadly. You guys should read this. It’s really good.

Sweet Kisses

Pairing: Elvis & black!female!reader

Summary: Candy, a young enslaved woman, learns the art of witchcraft from her mistress, Margaret. Along the way, Candy meets the mysterious Elvis, who appears to be more than what he seems. A vampire with an agenda. Candy and Elvis form an unbreakable bond that proves to be fatal.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Witchcraft, vampires, blood, murder, magic, hence the witchcraft, talks of slavery, sadness, forbidden love, smut, death.

Material is not suitable for under 18 years of age. View discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: I'm making this special appearance for a limited time. One of my friends (@powerofelvis) wrote this incredible story about the Vampire Elvis, and I always wanted a prequel to it. Sadly, said friend has quit indefinitely. I'm heartbroken over it, and I hope I do it justice. This is one of my favorite stories written in the fandom. If you enjoy this tale, please like, follow, comment, and repost.

・ʚ♡ɞ・💋・ʚ♡ɞ・

"These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness, and the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore, love moderately." - William Shakespeare: Romeo & Juliet

1692

Candy toils away in the kitchen as dinner soon approaches. She sweats as the heat of the oven has the room sweltering. She's been working all day to make sure the food is prepared to master's liking. The breads baked to perfection. The roast is honey coated. The mash potatoes are fluffy, the greenbeans seasoned, and the cake's sweet. So she hopes.

Candy wipes her brow as sweat pours down her face from the heated stove. She hears a slight rattling on the table and swiftly turns around to look at the table. Everything is in place as it should be. She takes out the roast, placing on the adjacent bar.

The rattling sound happens again. Candy turns just in time to see a teacup falling to the floor. She's too far away from the falling teacup to catch it, so she does the only thing she can. She stretches out her hand, feeling the energy of her power flow through her. She catches the cup in mid-air. She places the cup back on the table with ease and exhales. Her fear subsides, allowing her to relax once more.

"Very good, young one," Margaret says, stepping out of the shadows of the doorway. "You've been practicing."

"Yes, thank you, Mistress," Candy says, bowing her head.

Margaret walks into the hot kitchen, looking at all the food prepared for the evening's dinner. She pauses, not wanting to take another bath.

"Candy, make it cooler in here, now," Margaret orders.

"Yes, Mistress."

Candy faces the three windows that lead to the outside. Slowly, she raises her hands up, opening the windows. Putting her hands slightly together and widening her fingers, Candy quietly conjures the cool night air to cool down the room.

"Very good, Candy."

"Thank you, Mistress," Candy says, placing her hands back in front of her.

"Tonight promises to be a must eventful evening," Margaret says, looking back at Candy.

"Why is that, Mistress?"

"After dinner, when the men smoke their cigars and have their console. The women will have ours," Margaret says.

She lightly lifts up Candy's chin.

"I will announce you as my apprentice. You will join my council of witches. You will be seen as my equal in a circle where there's no favorites. We will be sisters, and you will call me Margaret."

"Yes. Margaret."

Candy knew, as well as any slave, it was forbidden to cross the line of formal and casual with her mistress and master. Yet her mistress is giving her a direct order to call her by her name as if she's an equal. Candy knows her place. She knows what to say in front of Master Abbott. It was beat into her for the last two years of how to act properly as an enslaved woman. Now that her mistress has commissioned her to be a witch, she realizes she must tread softly.

・ʚ♡ɞ・💋・ʚ♡ɞ・

As the other servants of the Abbott household, Candy has permission to be absent for an hour. She wastes no time, taking a spare pair of clothes with her, and quietly runs through the woods. Slaves don't have the right to wash indoors, but Candy found a private spring a mile away from the Abbott's house.

Running through the woods is almost as good as running through the palms of Barbados. If she closes her eyes, she can almost smell the fresh salt sea air.

When she reaches the spring, she stripes herself away from the chains of slavery for just a moment. Candy places her clothes on the giant oak tree limbs that reach over the water. Without another thought, Candy dives into the lukewarm water, cleasing herself from the Abbotts.

When she comes up for air, she rubs her left shoulder, where her moon shaped birthmark lies. As she washes her hair, Candy sees the figure of a man in the distance. Candy gasps as she back strokes in the water.

"Who are you?!" Candy asks, covering herself with her hands. "What are you doing here?!"

"Who are you?!?" The stranger asks, the bass of his deep voice sends fear to Candy's heart.

"Never you mind!" She shouts, realizing he was a white man she swims back to the shore.

Not caring if he sees her naked body, Candy rings out her wet curls and puts on her clothes.

"You're not a shy one, are ya?!?" He shouts to her.

Candy looks over her shoulder then walks away. She was hoping for a peaceful bath, but she was interrupted by a stranger who could possibly get her into trouble.

"Wait a minute!" He shouts to her.

Candy stops in her tracks, knowing the rules. If a white man, woman, or child asks her to do something, she's supposed to do it without question. Fully dressed, he makes his way in front of her.

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

"W-which question was that, sir?" Candy asks, looking into his eyes.

Something behind his eyes captures her heart. His eyes were as blue as the waters that surrounded her home island. Behind his oceanic eyes lay a rushing wave that spoke to her lonely soul.

"Who are you? You're different. You have fire in you that most slaves would fear to have."

"I'm... Candy."

"What family do you work? Candy?"

"I'm a slave in the Abbott's household," she answers, crossing her arms shrinking away from him.

"The Abbotts... fine company you keep."

"Sir, forgive me. I have to get back to my mistress."

"I never liked the thought of slavery. In fact, it makes me sick to my stomach," he says, lifting her chin. "You're the first servant that's looked me in my eyes since I've been in town."

"Sir, please..."

"Elvis. My name's Elvis, little one."

"Master Elvis..."

"It's just Elvis... Candy."

Candy knew with one breath she could knock him down on his back. But the law would kill her for exposing herself as a witch.

"I have to go... Elvis."

Candy runs past him, heading to the Abbott house. Once back in the house, Margaret escorts her to the ladies' quarters. Inside, about fifteen ladies fill the room, seven of which are black. Light illuminates the quarter as the candles flicker. It sparks that fire Elvis was telling her about earlier.

Margaret and Sarah Barnett bring Candy the coven wine gauntlet.

"Sisters," Margaret starts. "Let us welcome our new sister, Candy, to the coven."

The ladies individually say their hellos and greetings to Candy. Margaret gives Candy the gauntlet of wine and whispers to her instructions on what to say in her induction speech. Candy smiles, taking the gauntlet in her hands.

"I... I drink of my sisters, and I do so entering this unbreakable circle with perfect love and perfect trust. Never putting no one above my sisters and this coven."

Candy raises her glass in a toast and takes a sip. The ladies applaud her, then one by one, kiss her cheeks, welcoming her into the coven. They asked for a small demonstration of her powers. Candy levitates all the candles in the room. This act pleases the coven.

The evening goes on with light wine and conversation. The ladies speak of secrecy and discretion.

"First and foremost, we are to remain quiet about who we are. We also must watch out for vampires," Sarah instructs.

"What are vampires?" Candy asks.

"Our true enemies. They are the enemies of those who produce warm blood in their veins," Sister Miraim squabbles.

Mistress Sarah gently places her hand on top of Miraim's hand, calming her.

"If I may," Sister Beth commented. Beth was the slave of Lord and Lady Blacksmith. "As Miraim more spiritly put it, vampires are our enemies, yes. But moreover, they are undead creatures that look and speak just like us with minor misconceptions. Other than drinking the blood of the living to survive, they sneak through the shadows of the night like evil spirits. They can't walk in the daylight. The sun is a holy relic that burns their pale skin. They are unholy creatures. If they feed on a witch, they gain ten times more strength and speed."

"Vampires are our enemies, and they will be disdained as such," Candy stated.

As the meeting drew in for a close, Beth pulled Candy aside for a small conversation.

"Just between us, Candy. I'd love it if you joined our small group of enchantress," Beth said.

"Enchantress group?" Candy questioned.

"You must never tell your mistress. All of the enslaved women here are a part of it. They may see us as equals here in this room, but once outside those doors, we are mere slaves yet again," Beth states.

"I know this to be true," Candy acknowledges.

"Do you know of the Well's family?" Beth asks.

Candy shakes her head.

"They were absent tonight, but they have a slave by the name of Renée and she's also from the island of Barbados."

"My cousin? Here in Salem? We were separated during the auction two years ago. I feared I'd never see her again."

"Never say never, Sister Candy. She's a part of our coven. Will you join us at your leisure tomorrow?" Beth asked.

"Yes. I will be there."

The next day, Candy reunites with her beloved cousin, Renée. Seeing Renée brought a great joy to her, she thought she'd never experience again. Candy and Renée reconnected, building a strong bond of blood and magic.

Because of this, Candy pledged her undying loyalty to this secret black coven within a larger coven. Together, they formed the Coven of Black Enchantresses. Reading and writing were outlawed for slaves but the sisters taught each other how to read and write. Margaret secretly tutored you in your spear time from the Book of Spell Casters.

Two weeks later...

The churches harvest ball was quickly approaching. The autumn leaves were falling, and the weather started to cool. Candy cleaned the house from top to bottom with the assistance of her cousin, Renée.

"Candy, this harvest ball sounds so exciting," Renée said, striking up a conversation.

"Yes. Too bad slaves can't participate."

"True. Can we just imagine, though?"

Candy looks back at Renée's eager face. So full of hope for things to come. Being that Renée is her younger cousin, Candy obliges her whim of imagining a life better than their current one.

"Let's make a small circle, Candy. We're alone," Renée says, grabbing her hands.

Candy and Renée breathe deeply, chanting small incantations. As the circle forms, they open their eyes to look at one another.

"What are we imagining, Renée?" Candy asks.

"A life without servitude, cousin. A life away from this hell."

"Home..." Candy whispers as she imagines the waves crash against the shore of her home.

"Candy, you are of age. If things were different, you could have on one of those pretty gowns and fall in love tonight."

"That's not in the book for me."

"Imagine. Don't break the circle because of things that may not be. Close your eyes as I conjure you up the perfect night," Renée says.

Candy obeys her cousin and allows her imagination to run as wild as horse on a prairie.

"You have on the most beautiful dress of all the eligible women at the ball. Every eye is on you, but one bachelor catches your eye. Oh my. Candy, he's handsome."

Renée says these words, and those pair of blue eyes come back to her mind. The fine cut jawline exquisitely complements his brood shoulders. He's built like a god of legend. He lips... cover a smile of sharp fangs.

"Elvis!" Candy shouts, breaking the circle. Fear covers Candy's soft features.

"Who's Elvis?" Renée asked.

"I wish I knew," Candy says, taking a breath. "Come, let's finish up. No more imagining for today."

The Harvest Ball

The entire town of Salem, with a few residents from surrounding areas, has come to celebrate. All the lords, ladies, and their children are dressed in their Sunday best. They make conversation, sip on libations, and nibble on snacks as the light hymns play.

Candy was excused from the duties of the event. She quietly watches from the window outside. A part of her wishes she could be in there dancing with a handsome stranger. She wishes she could be the bell of the ball. But no, she would rather go for a swim.

She goes to get Renée, Beth, and Phadrea to go for a swim. Originally, her spring was supposed to be a private place, but she'd not dare keep it from her sisters.

As they walk arm in arm through the quiet town, they hear growling like a pack of wolves have surrounded them.

"Those are vampires," Beth says. "Be ready to defend yourselves, sisters."

The three witches fight with their might. Candy turns to her left and sees a pair of red eyes in the dark. Fear seeps within her veins, and her heart races at the face of this loathsome creature. She takes a deep breath and chants her incantation as dark smoke springs from her hands. She throws her hand up, slamming the vampire hard against the side of a house. He laughs with evil delight as Candy gives herself strength to pick him up and throw him. He hits the ground with a thunderous thud. He looks over at Candy, his demonic eyes glaring back. She's ready for him.

Then Candy hears Renée scream at the top of her lungs. A vampire on top of Renée, ready to sink his into her flesh.

"RENÉE!" She shouts, using her energy to throw the off of her.

The vampire Candy turned her back on, grabbed her neck from behind, throwing her to the ground. He growls, exposing his sharp fangs to her. Candy places her foot in his abdomen, flipping him underneath her. He rips the top part of her dress off her shoulder, showcasing her moon shaped birthmark.

"The cresent moon," he says, looking into Candy's eyes. "Little one?"

Candy backs away from him, holding the top of her dress. He stands and shouts at the other vampires. They all scatter in different directions except for him. He glares at Candy for a moment, revealing his human face.

"Elvis," Candy breathes.

Elvis smiles and races into the darkness of the night. Candy exhales for the first time since the first initial attack.

"Candy?" Renée says, coming to aid. "Are you alright?"

"I... I think so," Candy says.

"We are not safe, sisters," Beth states. "There are vampires in Salem. We must inform the heads of the council."

・ʚ♡ɞ・💋・ʚ♡ɞ・

The next day, Candy cleans the house from top to bottom, trying to get that image of Elvis out of her mind. Ever since the first time they met, Candy knew there was something about him. Something different. She never dreamed it was that he was a vampire.

Candy finds time later in the afternoon to make her way to the spring. When she arrives there, it's as silent the grave. She quietly walks to the edge of the water, bracing herself for the unexpected.

"I hoped you come," Elvis said.

Candy throws him up against the base of the oak tree, holding him there.

"We need to stop meeting like this, Candy."

"Why should I trust you?" Candy asks.

"Because, if I wanted you dead, I would have killed you last night."

"I don't trust you. Vampires are the sworn enemies to witches!"

"We don't have to be. I don't want to hurt you."

"What do you want, Elvis?"

"To live in a world where slavery doesn't exist. A world where vampires and witches are not enemies but live together in harmony. A world where humans don't fear us. We shouldn't have to hide in the shadows."

"That's impossible..."

"Why? Because you were told it couldn't."

Something in Candy wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe him. She eases her hand down, releasing Elvis from the tree. Elvis slowly walks up to Candy, never looking away from his eyes.

"Sit with me, please," Elvis asks.

"Why would you want to sit with me?"

"I find you beautiful and interesting. I've been waiting for you to come back here and spend time with me."

Elvis offers Candy his hand, and with hesitation, she takes it. Noticing how warm his touch is, her heart rate raises.

"You're so warm," Candy points out.

"Yes."

"And you're out in the sunlight."

"Yes, I am. Those tale tales were created to throw humans off our scent," Elvis admits.

He sits her down in the grassy meadow. For a moment, they stare at one another. Elvis admires her dark curls and honey coated skin. He finds her absolutely breathtaking.

"Where are you from?" Elvis asks her.

"Barbados. I was kidnapped two years ago. My cousin and I. Sent here. Away from my family. Forced into slavery," Candy sighs.

"You miss it."

"Everyday. I miss the palm trees and the sandy beaches and the blue water, my mother," Candy said, reminiscing about a life stolen from her.

A tear falls from her eye. Elvis takes her hand and places a kiss on her knuckles. An energy radiates from his touch to her soul. For the first time in a long time, Candy smiles a true smile.

For the next week, Candy finds a way to spend the afternoon in Elvis' arms. They share stories about their lives. Soon, Candy finds herself falling madly in love with Elvis. He's never far from her thoughts.

"How's about we go for a swim, baby?" Elvis asks.

Candy stands up and strips her dress off, being completely bare in front of Elvis. Elvis analyzes her body carefully. Every curve and every scar.

She runs into the water, diving into the water. When she comes up for air, Elvis has disappeared.

"Elvis? Where are you?" She calls out.

"Here," he whispers in her ear.

She turns to see Elvis behind her. Elvis grabs her face and kisses her lips softly. There's nothing between them at this moment but water. Candy wraps her arms around Elvis as he kisses down her neck to her arm. He kisses her birthmark.

"Oh, Elvis," she cries out.

He stops short and looks at her.

"What's wrong?" Candy asked.

"I want to taste you."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes, but you'll like. I promise."

"Okay," Candy says, bracing herself.

Elvis kisses her neck then sinks his teeth into her skin. Candy feels a rush as he tastes her blood. Candy sees Elvis' past in quick images. Love. Loss. Death. It makes her want to protect him and guard him from the world. She also feels herself wet as Elvis sips her blood. He pulls back for air and licks her wounds.

"You're pure magic, Candy," he says.

"You're pure love, Elvis," she says, kissing his lips.

Elvis lifts her leg and drives into her with his hardened shaft. She moans at the urgency of it all. Her bud is so sensitive, and she feels so needy for what Elvis can give her. She never truly knew about this connection. The bond among her coven was nothing compared to this. She feels herself expand as he thrusts his cock into her throbbing pussy.

A fire deep within her has ignited and feels like Elvis is casting a spell on her. She grips ahold of him chasing this feeling until finally she bursts. Elvis follows quickly behind her.

"Oh, E. That was spellbinding."

"That was lovemaking, darling."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I love you, Candy. I'm in love with you," Elvis says, kissing the top of her head.

Thirty minutes later, Elvis takes Candy to his cabin. Their both still pretty wet from swimming, so Candy lights a fire for them. They sit for a while, getting warm from the flames.

Elvis can't help himself. He strips from his wet clothes and asks that Candy do the same. He lays her down in front of the fire and precedes to make love to her once more.

The flame on the inside of Candy scorch her soul as he pushes and pulls in and out of her until once again she cums. They lay in each other's arms for a while until Elvis breaks his silence.

"Marry me, Candy. Be my bride. Let's rule this world as one," Elvis begs.

Candy looks at him. Seeing the seriousness in his eyes melts her heart. She wants nothing more than to be with him.

"What about my sisters?" Candy questions.

"In time, they will come to accept our union. Please, my love. Marry me."

"Yes, I will."

"You will?"

"I will."

They kiss for a moment, and Elvis cuts his arm to unite them both as one.

"Drink. Be one with me. It won't turn you into a vampire. This will make you more powerful than any witch on Earth."

Candy licks his cut from top to bottom. The blood fills her taste buds with a peculiar taste, but the sensation was a delight. She feels stronger somehow. She feels like she has more control over her powers.

Realizing the time, Candy gives Elvis one last kiss goodbye and runs back to town. When she arrives, the coven is all there waiting to her.

"Where have you been?" Margaret asks.

Candy has no words. She can't lie to them, but she can't tell them the truth either.

Beth stepped forward, placing her palms up and out to Candy.

"Beth," Margaret called. "Make her speak."

"Give me your hands, Sister Candy," Berh orders.

Candy hesitates but does as she's asked. She places her hands on top Beth's hands.

Beth sees all that had conspired in Candy's mind. She sees the secrets they have and all of her moments with Elvis. All their private moments.

Beth gasps, pulling away from Candy she slaps her in the face.

"Sisters, she has betrayed us all! She has lied with a vampire, allowed him to drink blood from her veins, and tasted his blood as well!!!"

An unholy gasp spreads across the room.

"Sisters, please. Let me explain," Candy begs, tears falling from her eyes.

Margaret slaps Candy's face, silencing her.

"You have lost all rights to speak!" Margaret shouts.

"I love him."

"You shall burn for your sins against us. Your betrayal has stung us all to the core," Margaret states. "All witches in favor."

"Aye!" Screamed by each witch except for Renée who watches in terror from the back of the room.

For the next few days, Candy remains locked in an upstairs room with little to no food. She cares not for herself but for Elvis. She was supposed to see him at the springs. With little to no way to get to him, Candy falls into despair.

Suddenly, there's a commotion downstairs. Things are being thrown about the rooms, and there's yelling.

Candy has been patient long enough. She blows the door down with one wave of her hand. She runs downstairs and sees Elvis being choked by Margaret. Candy waves her arm and flings Margaret away from him.

"Elvis, darling," Candy runs to him, helping off the floor.

"My love," Elvis says, kissing her lips. "I've come to take you away from this horrible place."

"Traitor!" Margaret yells.

"No! Margaret, I don't want this! Elvis wants to make this world better for us all. He's a great man!"

"Love, she's set in her old ways. No use explaining to her," Elvis says, picking her up in his arms and racing out the door.

For the next week, Elvis trains Candy on fighting and strengthening her powers. Elvis feels a fight coming, and he wants to be prepared. Candy wants Elvis to fight her with all his might because if she could stand against him, she can face anyone.

Elvis knocks Candy down on her back this time. It's hard enough that blood comes from her mouth.

"Did I hurt you, my love?" Elvis asks, stretching out his hand, helping her up.

"Yeah, but I'm tougher than I look, E," she says, giving him a kiss on the lips. "Do you really think I'll be ready to face them? I mean, they taught me everything I know. Before them, I was a slave who couldn't read or write. I own them everything."

"You're ready, and once we defeat them, you'll be my bride, and we will rule this world together. Hell, you're already my bride, Mama!" Elvis says, pulling her close to him. "They will come around. Eventually."

"I'm ready," Candy says.

But she wasn't ready. Two days later, Candy goes to comfort the coven. It was a trap. They tie Candy up, using incantations, they burn her at the stake. She screams and begs them for mercy, but they ignore her.

Elvis witnesses the whole scene unfold. He tries to save her, but his men hold him back as he cries out to her.

"Candy! You can defeat them! You're strong! Don't give up! I LOVE YOU!!! PLEASE!!!" He screams.

Candy sees Elvis trying to get to her, but it's too late. She cries as the flames of hell fire burn her from the inside out. She let's her last words be for Elvis. He hears her whisper.

"I love you," she succumbs to the flames.

Elvis and his clan of vampires are forced to flee away from Salem back into the woods.

A day later, the witch sent Elvis a box. Inside the box is Candy's burnt heart. Elvis hadn't slept all night from heartbreak, and this is what happens.

Elvis loses it and orders his men to attack Salem. His vampires came in droves and ripped Salem apart. Finding every witch they could get their hands on and bleeding them dry.

The Black Enchantresses, led by Renée, fled for their lives out of Salem and from the bonds of slavery. Renée knew the story of Candy and Elvis was to be kept a secret for all time, and so it shall remain.

After his fill of witches' blood, Elvis, heartbroken, carries Candy's lifeless body away. He wraps burial cloth around her body from head to toe. He places her under their special oak, feet away from their pond where they meet mere weeks ago.

Elvis lays her in her resting place gently, placing the box that contains her heart on top of her. He weeps the tears of a widower. For they had only just begun.

As he places fresh water lilies on her grave, a strange feeling comes over him. As if he's not there alone.

"Elvis." A voice of an angel whispers. His angel. His bride.

Elvis turns to see a figure in white standing in the grassy meadow. As his eyes adjust, he realizes he looks upon the face of Candy. Her hair was curly with little flowers, and the sun kissed her skin perfectly.

"Candy?" He breathes.

"Yes," she answers.

"You've come back to me, love?"

"No," she says, a tear trickling down her cheek. "Wait for me."

"How long?" Elvis beeched.

"I don't know."

"It doesn't matter. I'll wait forever for you. I love you."

"I love you, Elvis. Once I return to you. I'll never ever leave you again. Wait for me." Candy sits in the grass as a light fog engulfs her and she vanishes.

Elvis feels sorrow, but in his heart, he knows Candy will return to him. When she does, they will rule the immortal world together. He will wait. No matter how long it takes.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorwforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop @spooky-hazex

Are you bummed at the ending? Here's the link to the original story!!! Better ending.

Sweets For My Sweet by: @powerofelvis (Daisy)

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powerofelvis · 5 months

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You don't have to elaborate, but can you confirm ifi part of the reason you don't support Priscilla is because of the details documented in the book Child Bride?

I’ve never read it but no, that’s not the reason.

#daisy speaks #daisy.log

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powerofelvis · 5 months

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This is enough for me fr….

Every single day i get on here, I see stupid shit on my feed and my mental health don’t need it. It’s cool that y’all enjoyed the new film and such but the ones who don’t know shit about this man is speaking nonsense about shit they know nothing about—especially about her book (which she claimed on some parts wasn’t true) but y’all don’t wanna research huh?

Tumblr and every other social media site has become toxic to bash Elvis and the people who portrayed him before Jacob. I’ve had enough and honestly I’m tired of it.

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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My favorite 50s!Elvis photos, part 104 of ∞; Always A Snappy Dresser

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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OH FUCK ME.

Daddies 🤤 THE CHEST HAIR ON THEM

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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My favorite 50s!Elvis photos, part 105 of ∞; Friday Smiles 💖

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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IM SORRY DID U SAY YOURE WORKING ON A FIC ABOUT “COP BIG DADDY ELVIS”?!?- please tell us more because this sounds like the greatest thing ever 😭

I did, Mon ami, I did indeed…welcome to the demented 2009, sweaty and non famous cop AU that @eliseinmemphis and myself cooked up in our feral yearnings one night.

Allow me to lay a bit of the setting for us all, and maybe even throw in a few lines from the draft below.

Life is insular when you’ve been born and raised in a trailer park. A little El Paso suburb was never a thriving metropolis, what with its gas stations and dollar stores on the way to nothingness in the desert, but the recession didn’t help none. Your dreams of buying a car that might actually make it above 120 mph and not guzzle your wages in gas is a far off dream when you learn from officer Presley that your entrepreneuring father has been incarnated for racketeering across in Juarez. It’s a shame, a damn shame but it hardly throws a wrench in your life, you were already used to making it however you could. When workin’ at the trucker’s club turns into something a lil more illegal and Elvis has his morning waffle ruined by Joe Esposito yacking about the powers of your pink tongue…he feels a little responsible for leaving you without a father figure. He’s got top notch swamp coolers in his trailer, plenty of food and tiger figurines out front -and he’s got an interest in fast things, just like you.

You could do worse than shack up with such a fella; not that he’s offerin’ but you can tell by the flicker in his eye and the smirk of his lips that he’s as susceptible as the next guy watching you on the pole. Except this sweet, world weary cynic just might screw your gooey insides up worse than any threat or ogle from another man.

Snippet:

“Well, well officer Presley, finally got persnickety about laws, have ya?” you observed to yourself with a grin as you watched the handsome man swagger towards you along the white line in your side mirror, tugging at his pants as he neared, trying to shimmy the article of clothing a little higher but is impeded by his belt, stopped by his sizable belly, his holster and buckle sitting under the bulge of it.

Your mouth watered. It had been a year or two since you saw him last. He was always built, intimidating to all the stupid rascals he keeps in line along the border, but now he had become outright fat and his khaki shirt pulled apart between each button. Yet when he came up to your window, that little boy grin was still gracing one of the most exquisite faces known to man, and his voice was tender and playful when he greeted you, just as you once recalled. You could see his sweaty hair, matted on his chest and belly between the gaps, his underarms had massive pit stains, doubly apparent thanks to the light color of his police uniform.

Your smile had something of the she-wolf in it as you greeted him, sniffing the air in hopes of catching a whiff as he leaned on your window frame, nearly crowding you from outside. “Hey Miss Sweet Cheeks,” he greets, “you know why ya been pulled over?”

“Haven't got a clue, officer.” You stated the truth and enjoyed the way his title rolled off your tongue in a bantering way. It was easy.

Officer, officer. Somebody important and authoritative. No sir, yes sir, Officer.

His left eyebrow quirked and you wondered what he looked like at twenty five, how devastating that expression would have been before his wound and his meds and the water retention. Whatever power it may have once held, it holds nothing to this slightly bemused, slightly cynical world weariness that shows in his every expression now, that had a twitch of an eyebrow making you feel a fool. “You’re goin’ seventy in a forty five, Miss.” his tone was patient even as his face suggested he’d like to tan your hide for being so reckless. “Reckless endangerment of others, and yourself,” he quoted sternly, “it ain’t no small matter and I don’t countenance it on my highway.”

Gosh, you just loved it when he laid claim to government property like highways and interstates. It helped you smile meekly at him and nod.

“Sorry officer, I got lax.” You purred, batting your eyes and you could see the heavy flap of their coal coated weight in your periphery. “I’ve seen you lettin’ me flyby on the interstate. I guess I thought…”

#gimmie Marina

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powerofelvis · 6 months

Text

Paisley Dreams (Part 2) 🏵💛🔥

Pretty sure there's only a small handful of you still reading my nonsense, but to those who are, thank you for your patience. Also, special thanks to those who kept me going after various blocks and meltdowns over finishing this (among other things). Would've thrown in the towel completely if it weren't for y'all. You know who you are and I love you. 💗💗💗 Anyway, sorry, this is probably a bit of a mess, but so am I... 😬

If you need a refresher, here's Paisley Dreams Part 1 🏵

TW: SEXXX, a little macho-possessive!elvis, the usual era appropriate female frustrations.

August 1970

If Pepper didn’t know any better, she would think she dreamt up the surreal encounter with Elvis that happened a few days ago. The only thing tethering the experience to reality is the yellow shirt he left her with, the one she’s a bit ashamed to say she’s been wearing to bed the past three nights, just so she can languish in his scent a little longer.

Of course, she hasn’t heard from him. It would be absurd if she had, or at least she keeps reminding herself of that when she finds herself spacing out during the slow moments at the diner or when taking off her stage makeup after the show. Elvis Presley is a busy man, and it’s likely he hadn’t given her a single thought since he left her pining and wanting in her drab little apartment.

Sure, he’d been good in the moment in making her feel special, and she can’t help thinking about all the little vulnerable snippets of him he showed her, all the strange things they seem to have in common…

Stop it. This is stupid. I’m never gonna see the man again.

It’s been a mantra in her head for days now, but unfortunately her touch-starved body hasn’t gotten the memo. If she had any sense, she’d drop her delusional fantasies and move on with her monotonous life.

“Hey, Pepper! Some guy is here to see you. Says it’s urgent,” Paul, the show’s stage manager, tells her briskly as she put the final touches on her face.

With no clue who it might be, a tightening in her belly warns it could be another overzealous “fan” like the one who caught her out the other night. But Paul is skilled at getting rid of the creeps, so it leaves her wondering as she makes her way backstage to the green room.

“Oh, thank God,” the short man sighs with palpable relief when she walks through the doorway. He looks incredibly familiar.

“Who…wait. Charlie?” she gasps in surprise. “What—what are you doing here?”

The man looks so glad to see her it takes her aback. “You are a hard woman to track down. Aren’t you ever home?”

“I…uh, I work two jobs, so not really,” she finds herself explaining. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here?”

“Well, the boss wants to see ya tonight, needs ya to come to his show,” he says, pushing a large white box into her arms.

“The boss?” she asks, confused. He can’t possibly mean who she thinks he does.

“Elvis. Elvis wants you at his show tonight, so here I am to get you there. And that’s for you, to wear,” Charlie says with a knowing smile.

Pepper thinks that maybe exhaustion has caught up with her because there is no way this is real. She laughs a little, a giddy feeling pulsing through her veins, until the cold wash of reality douses her.

“That’s nice, but I have a show of my own to do, Charlie,” she says, sweeping a hand over her revealing costume. Her heart sinks and she’s a little angry Elvis presumed she could drop everything to be at his beck and call. “Thank Elvis for the invitation but remind him I really can’t afford to lose this job.” She hands the white box back to Charlie, unopened.

He sputters a little with panic. It makes sense—most women probably bend over backwards to accommodate a man like Elvis, but she has other things to worry about. And Elvis knows this, which makes her even more irritated.

“But…but he really wants you there, Pepper,” Charlie says in a futile attempt to persuade her. “He’ll be mighty disappointed if you don’t come.”

Her heart kerthunks at the suggestion Elvis has been thinking about her at all, much less for him to be disappointed by her absence, but it doesn’t quell the anger starting to build in her chest.

“Well, I’m sorry for that, but it’s too short of notice and I have a show to do. Tell your boss it would be good for him not to make assumptions.”

Charlie looks like she’s slapped him. She almost feels bad for him because she gets the impression, as wonderful as Elvis was with her the other night, he is not a man who likes to be told “no.”

“I need to be on stage soon. Bye, Charlie,” she says, fighting the urge to cry both with irritation and disappointment. She can’t afford to ruin her makeup this close to showtime and walks out before she can change her mind.

The smile she plasters across her face during the dinner show covers her aching discontent. She’s almost glad for the distraction—it takes her mind off the fact she’ll likely never hear from Elvis again. There is certainly no reason for a man like him to chase a woman like her, especially when she’s rejected him.

Lost in her dismal thoughts, she doesn’t hear Paul when he comes up behind her after the show. She jumps out of her skin when he touches her shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Pepper, but you’ve got someone important on the phone for you,” Paul says, looking at her a little incredulously with a quirked brow, “and that little guy is back.”

What?

She makes her way back to the green room for the second time tonight, a racehorse running laps in her heart as she huffs down the hallway in her heels.

Charlie’s eyes brighten when they see her and he says nothing; he just holds out the phone receiver towards her. Trepidation makes her shake when she grabs it because as much as she wants to deny it, there’s no doubt who it could be.

“Hello?” she squeaks out, then races to clear her throat and relax her voice. “Who is this?”

“Peppercorn, you best be gettin’ that cute lil�� butt of yours down here, ‘fore I gotta come getchu myself,” Elvis familiar drawl growls commandingly in her ear.

It’s unfair the way it makes her toes curl and her thighs tighten, especially when a certain sense of fury at his orders slices through her arousal. If any other man talked like this to her, she’d hang up on him, but Elvis Presley is not just any other man.

“Well, hello to you, too, Elvis,” she says with ire. “I told you, I have my own shows and I can’t just up and leave on a whim.”

“Don’tchu worry about none of that, darlin’. I’ll take care of everything,” he says so smoothly it almost covers the impatience in his tone.

“What does that even mean?”

He sighs on the other end. “Honey, money ain’t an issue. I’ll give you more money than they’d pay you tonight to come to my show.”

The force of his words hits her square in the chest, her hand tightening around the phone. “And what about when they fire me for leaving without notice, hmm? You just gonna pay for my bills from now on? I’m not a whore, Elvis Presley. And I don’t want your damn money.”

That stubborn streak her mama always took her to task for has her seeing red, but somehow she has enough sense not to hang up on him directly. Instead, she just thrusts the phone into Charlie’s hand and storms off, not listening to the crackling voice yelling through the receiver.

Oooh, the nerve of that man, she thinks, her blood boiling at his insinuations. He’d been so nice and thoughtful the other night, not this demanding cad offering to pay her like some hooker off the street. For a man like that, offering what he did, it is blaringly obvious that there would be strings attached to such an arrangement, and she isn’t going to be some kept woman.

The audacity of his actions and words has her raging the more she thinks about him. The late show barely takes her mind off it, the entire exchange sending waves of adrenaline through her blood every time it pops back into her mind. By the time she is back home, she’s exhausted but wired, upset that her daydreams about this man were just that—fantasies.

Pepper convinced herself he wasn’t like any other man—that he was sweet and kind and didn’t just want her for her body. What a joke.He may be rich and powerful, but he certainly made his intentions clear with his demands.

Once in bed, she doesn’t bother to stop the tears leaking from her eyes and dripping into the mattress. A sick feeling of regret churns in her stomach as her rage cools and she begins second guessing all her choices. How she managed to ruin her chances with Elvis.

Buck up, kiddo, he’s just a guy. A famous, talented, and ridiculously handsome one, maybe, but still just a man in the end. He doesn’t matter. Your family does. She may not have much, but at least she has her dignity.

Or so she hopes, a certain yellow paisley shirt clinging to her body when sleep finally takes her.

An incessant pounding rouses Pepper from a fitful slumber. At first, she thinks it might be a whopper of a headache she’d felt coming on after last night’s events, but as she forces her gritty eyes open, she realizes it’s not that at all.

Someone is pounding on her front door.

Adrenaline kickstarts her body, despite the sleep that tries to reclaim her, and a quick look at the alarm clock on her nightstand shows it’s not quite four in the morning. She is cautious and more than a little scared as she slips her too flimsy robe on over her nightgown, pattering through the apartment with bare feet. Approaching the door with an element of stealth, which seems awfully stupid when she thinks about it, she peeks through the peephole, praying it’s not some drugged out creep looking for a good time or a maniac she needs to call the cops on.

But there is no mistaking the shock of black hair and the purple tinted sunglasses of the man causing such a racket on the other side of the wood. Her stomach drops and her heart flips.

You’ve got to be kidding me. She takes a shaky breath and opens the door before he can continue his barrage.

Elvis starts a bit when the door opens suddenly, his shoulders squaring and spine straightening. For a second, he almost looks self-conscious about his behavior, but it is gone and replaced with a narrow-eyed glare before she can dwell on it.

“You gonna let me in, sweetheart, or are we gonna do this out in the open for everyone to see?” he drawls, but it has a cutting edge to it she doesn’t recognize from their first meeting.

Now that he’s here in front of her, her earlier stubbornness is hard to locate behind the butterflies in her stomach and the sudden apprehension she feels about him being here again. He sucks all the air out of the room after she wordlessly opens the door further to let him stride through.

Pepper pulls her robe tight across her body, trying to cover herself as though he hadn’t already seen her bare, as if he hadn’t knelt in front of her to dress her in that dark alley. The thought, along with the waft of his cologne as he passes by her, makes her knees weak.

“Wha—what’re you doing here, Elvis?” she asks, the words sticking in her mouth with sleep and confusion as she flips on the lamp near the couch.

She realizes the mistake the moment it happens. Now she can truly see him in all his glory—his post-show glow giving him an other-worldly quality she didn’t know was possible. His tan skin and lustrous dark hair are indulgent to her senses and it’s almost painful how endless his sapphire eyes are when he takes off his tinted glasses and rakes those eyes over her body.

It sends a shiver right down to her toes.

“Peppercorn, you’re one helluva stubborn little girl,” he says huskily, pointing a long finger at her, “makin’ me come all the way down ‘ere to talk some damn sense into ya.”

It’s piercing and heated the way he says it and she feels somewhere between a scolded child and a wounded lover, neither of which fits the strange (non-)relationship she has with him, but she feels it all the same. Logic tells her he has no right to come in here like this, but the fact that he’s here at all, looking ethereal like some sort of angry god, has all logic flying out the window.

Digging her toes into the wood floor to keep herself grounded, she finally finds her voice again, “Excuse me?”

“And all this nonsense ‘bout ya being some kinda ‘whore’,” he barrels on, “and I ain’t never said no such thing, would never say such a thing aboutcha.” The vehemence with which he says it makes it sound likeshe was the one who offended him and not the other way around.

Pepper is confused for a second because of this, as her first instinct is to apologize to make him feel better, but then she remembers why she was mad in the first place.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t offer to pay me to spend time with you and be there to satisfy your every whim, I wouldn’t think that’s what you meant,” she says quietly, her voice shaking only slightly, as she throws it back at him.

His eyes flash and narrow while his cheeks redden underneath his tan. The divot in his jaw ticks with tension, and for a split second she regrets her words.

She can’t for the life of her understand why he cares and has gone to all this trouble and seems so upset. She’s nobody of consequence, and God knows any number of women are lined up at the ready for him if he wants company. And yet he’s here.

This doesn’t help the way her heart knocks against her ribcage, though, and she squeezes her hands tight to try and control her rapid breathing.

“Don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth, lil girl,” he growls, stepping towards her, backing her into the wall. Only the tiniest part of her is frightened despite his size and anger because his proximity and intensity ignite something molten in her veins. Her mouth parts but the quippy reply dies on her lips.

“Why don’tcha wanna come to my show?” There’s an element of hurt in his voice that surprises her, and it tugs at her heartstrings. He looks down at her and it nearly causes her knees to buckle. “I-I-I jus’ thought—”

“I would love to come. It breaks my heart that I can’t,” she whispers mournfully, the words popping out before you can think better of them.

An impish little smile plays at his lips. “It does, does it?”

Pepper can’t help but roll her eyes, tilting her chin to the side, mostly to avoid being swallowed up by those churning eyes of his. “Of course.”

“Then why you gotta be so stubborn, baby?” he replies, gently scolding her. His slender pointer finger grazes her jaw, then turns her chin back towards him.

She hopes he doesn’t feel the way she shudders from the contact. It’s embarrassing enough that she can’t seem to hold her ground with him in front of her like this. That she’s melting at his slightest touch. She struggles to get the words out, feeling heady with the heat of him so close.

“I don’t…it’s important for me to be able to take care of myself. I’ve had to for a long time. And you don’t need to give me anything for me to want to come see or spend time with you—you shouldn’t have to. Besides,” she adds quietly, looking down, “I’m not really the kind of girl who…um…takes advantage of things like that. So, as much as I want to, I can’t—"

The rest is swallowed before it can come out by the sweet softness of his plush lips pressing against her own. She gasps in surprise, but that, too, is consumed by his mouth. His hands cup her face, tilting it up towards his and Pepper flails for a moment in confusion until the gentle insistence of his kiss subdues her completely.

Warmth spreads through her limbs, followed by electric tingles which bounce around her stomach and suck the breath out of her lungs. Her hands land on his chest, feeling heat and dampness from sweat, his heart thrumming underneath her palm. It’s faster than she expects and in disbelief, she wonders if it’s because of her.

When he pulls away, lashes fluttering up to meet her gaze, it’s as if a rocket implodes inside her chest. She’s a goner—if she’s honest with herself, she has been since the moment he defended her in the alley—and she knows it’s a bad place to be with a man like Elvis. She struggles valiantly against her baser instincts.

“Wh-why did you do that?” she chokes out, still confused about the fact that Elvis Presley just kissed her.

His eyes go dark. “Did ya not like it?” he asks, concerned.

“N-No, no, it isn’t…it was lovely, I just—I mean, why me?” She looks up at him with earnest eyes.

Relief spreads across his face and he runs his knuckles over her cheek. “Honey, you are the realest person I’ve met in this godforsaken town—hell, anywhere, as a matter of fact—a-an’ the only one who ain’t asked o-o-or expected a damn thing from me in a long time. You jus’…understand.”

Surprisingly, she does.

“Now, with that said, I like ta—" His head comes down, pressing the sweaty warmth of his forehead against hers. “—give gifts and help those I care about.” He nuzzles his nose into hers. “You gonna let me help you, Peppercorn?” he whispers against her cheek.

Her mouth parts by its own accord as her insides go gooey, and those soft lips devour hers again before she can reply. Fisting the lapels of his jacket in her hands, she barely recognizes the moan that escapes her as being her own.

He pulls away slightly, pressing kisses into her jaw and down her neck. It’s utterly intoxicating.

“Elvis…” is all she’s able to groan out. He’s an assault to her senses in the best way, causing every nerve ending to go into overdrive, logic and caution be dammed.

“Gonna be good f’me?” he rasps, lightly brushing the backs of his fingers down over her breast. She gasps and her nipple pebbles hard in response under the silky friction of the fabric of his yellow shirt. Back arching, her body seeks more of him.

He hums, pulling her up into a blistering kiss that sets her on fire. Mind wiped clean, she leans into his touch when he palms the underside of her breast.

“Thought you was mad at me and here ya are wearin’ my shirt to bed,” he drawls with a knowing smirk, his finger toying with the top button. “Now why would ya do a thing like that, huh, darlin’?”

“I…” she says breathlessly but stops when she has no defense. Her cheeks turn fire-engine red, both from being caught out and from the fact he is much too deftly popping the first button, which due to the size of the shirt lies squarely between her cleavage, open. The fullness and heaving of her breasts push the fabric further apart.

“Hmm, I see,” he tuts. His finger traces its way down to work the second button. “Were ya dreamin’ about me, honey?”

Pepper whimpers and her thighs clutch together involuntarily at his whispered words, and he doesn’t miss this little tell, not by the little smirk on his face. The second button pops and the shirt falls open more.

He swoops her up against him for another kiss, his tongue swiping through her lips and rolling against hers. The rapidly-firming outline of his cock pressed against her belly is not lost on her, either.

“My lil’ Peppercorn, thinkin’ she’s gotta be all rough and tough all by her lonesome,” he murmurs as he makes quick work of the other buttons, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her abdomen. She trembles at his touch. “Don’t gotta worry no more, baby, I gotcha,” he purrs. In any other situation, she might find it condescending, this way he’s taking her to task for being cautious and independent, but she can’t quite bring herself to care so much anymore.

Elvis steps back a little, those shining blue eyes flaring a bit when he gets a look at her in her simple white cotton panties. He looks almost gleeful which banishes her self-consciousness at not wearing something sexier to bed. God knows the last thing she expected last night after she showered was Elvis Presley admiring her choice of underwear.

“Lemme take care of ya?” he asks dreamily, and the words go straight to her core, tingling her swelling lower lips in anticipation of what she hopes he is going to do to her.

All she can manage is a low whine of consent, nodding her head furiously just in case it isn’t clear how badly she needs him to touch her.

Elvis smiles and flits his fingers over the cotton covering her mound. The slightest brush of his finger against her clit sends her spasming like a live wire. It’s embarrassing, yet by the boyish dimple in his cheek, she reckons he’s pleased as punch.

“You been touched like this before, baby?” he asks quietly, circling over her so lightly she feels she might explode from want.

Blinking rapidly, she tries to focus enough to reply. “N-not in a long w-while,” she admits, relishing the sensation of him brushing over the soaked center of her underwear. She can’t help the roll of her hips towards his hand, desperate for more.

“Mmm,” he tuts, nodding to himself. Thankfully, he obliges her by pressing slightly upwards, pushing his panty covered finger up into her hole just a little, the palm of his hand putting pressure on her sensitive clit.

He only gives her a second of this, just long enough for her to gasp out, before he’s moving along. Her knees threaten to buckle and she whines. Then his mouth his on hers again, inhaling her exhale as he kisses her into complete submission.

Pepper loses track of how long they kiss, only that her lips are swollen and that she aches for him with every fiber of her being. The rhythm of his mouth is hypnotic and when he slides his hand down the front of her, into her damp curls, and finally gives attention to the place she wants him most, she cries out in pleasure.

Her legs falling open, he takes the cue and teases the hood of her sex. Nothing has prepared her for this—not her imagination nor her few previous experiences with men could ever match up to the blinding arousal she’s feeling right now.

Surprising her, he bends down, continuing his kisses down her chest, over the rise of her breasts and down her stomach. When he kneels in front of her, a waft of déjà vu comes over her, except this time he is undressing her instead, making the entire scene so erotic with his kiss-swollen lips and bedroom eyes and his hair falling in his face that she feels a needy, throbbing desire between her legs.

His tongue traces her belly button, distracting her from the fact he’s pulling her ruined underwear down her legs to puddle at her feet. It’s not until his lips are pressing into her mound that she realizes his intentions.

“Oh!” Her eyes flying open, she squirms a little in panic—she’s never had a man kiss her down there, and sure as hell didn’t consider that Elvis would want to do such a thing, but there he his, looking up at her, one eyebrow cocked. His eyes don’t leave hers as he swirls that tongue of his around her bud.

“Oh—omigod,” she cries, breath hitching. Her body goes into overdrive at all the new sensations, and he just smiles against her, snacking and lapping away at her, as happy as can be. The surreal nature of it all has her questioning her sanity, but the fleeting thought is quickly overwhelmed by the coil rapidly tightening in her belly. She hurtles towards an orgasm she’s not entirely ready for because she desperately doesn’t want this pleasure to end. Mewling and begging, it only takes one slender finger sliding up into her snatch coupled with the delicious, tongued assault on her clit to send her catapulting over the edge.

Her body tenses, then shudders violently against him as a silent scream catches in her throat. The heat rushing over her has nothing on any climax she’s ever had before which becomes evident in the way her legs shake and threaten to give way completely. Thankfully, Elvis holds her steady by the backs of her thighs, not letting her slump down to the floor like a sack of potatoes as her body relaxes. She can barely breathe for the way he licks her through the end of it, his enjoyment of her arousal obviously not just for her benefit.

Pepper vaguely registers her soft moans and her shivering limbs as she comes back into herself. Her head clonks back into the wall while she tries to get ahold of senses. She can’t seem to come down, though, not with this gorgeous man prostrated at her feet, enjoying her as though she were water in the desert.

Everything goes blank, everything but him.

Then he’s upright again, pressing his body into her, into the wall, his head nuzzling the soft spot under her ear. “Ya like that, honey? That okay?”

If she were more cognizant, she might think more on how he seems almost unsure of his abilities, but as it is, she barely manages a nod.

“S’wonderful,” she slurs, though she’s completely sober.

He smiles against her neck, chin sticky with her arousal. She doesn’t care. At this moment, all she wants is to be consumed by him, crushed by him, taken care of by him. All earlier arguments are forgotten, especially when he ruts against her bare leg, his erection hard and seeking.

“Can I, darlin’?” he whispers imploringly with a punctuated roll of his hips. “Hims need her bad.”

She wants to giggle at the cuteness of his baby talk and at the gallantry of his asking rather than taking—as if she would deny him—so instead she just nods yet again, pulling at the confines of his suit jacket.

In a near-frantic battle with his elaborate outfit, his belt finally clanks to the floor along with his pants and discarded jacket. When his cock springs free, unencumbered due to the lack of underwear, she is almost shocked, but is too distracted by what seems to be a wholly perfect representation of the male form.

It makes her look him up and down with an awed and heated gaze, somewhat disbelieving this otherworldly man wants her. By its own accord, her hand palms the heavy heat of him, sending a thrill though her when he groans out her name.

Needy and already dripping from the slit in his angry pink tip, he thrusts his cock into her hand. “Please, baby,” he breathes and all at once she realizes he is as desperate to have her as she is to have him.

She’s never fucked standing before and if she were in her right mind might be a little concerned about the mechanics of such a thing, but nature has a way of prevailing and without much to-do, Elvis lifts her long legs around his waist and braces her against the wall.

They both groan as he enters her. She’s more than wet, but his size and her lack of recent experience creates a stretching burn, nevertheless. It makes her hiss and bite down on her lip and being the observant lover he has turned out to be, he freezes partway in.

“You okay?” he asks, worried, and she nods emphatically because no, she doesn’t want him to stop but yes, it has been awhile since a man traversed this part of her. The bite of her nails on his shoulders is enough to remind him to go slow, despite the desire to fuck each other into oblivion.

With the utmost patience he works his way in with shallow, gentle thrusts as she coats him with her slick and relaxes enough to let him burrow deeper. The tight fit is delicious on his cock, which he makes note of in a string of murmured baby talk praises in her ear of what a good girlshe is and how tight she feels and how he’d just make a home in her pretty lil’ beaver forever if he could.

All this has her tingling and radiating warmth from the inside out and she begins to roll her hips to let him know she’s ready. It’s not long then before he’s nestled deep inside, his sweaty forehead pressed to hers before kissing her deeply. She tastes the tang of herself on his tongue, something that shouldn’t make her moan into his mouth, but she does, clinging to his shoulders as he finally begins to move in earnest.

And consumed by him she is—by his smell, his taste, the hard and soft planes of his body sliding against her own so deftly, thoroughly slotted as if made for each other. His rings cut into the bottom of her thigh as he grips her there in such a way that suggests he thinks she might float away and disappear without him there to anchor her.

He might very well be right.

Boldly, she meets his increasingly deep and pointed thrusts with the snap of her hips, as best she can at least, considering her lack of leverage. She chases him and he her, like some sort of erotic ouroboros eating its own tail. There is nothing but him and her and the joined chorus of breath in their near-frantic lovemaking.

Pepper has never come twice in a row with a man, not ever, yet as he plunders her just the right way in all the right spots, the telltale signs of that tension in her core spring to life again. He’s skilled in making her body sing, considering he barely knows her—or perhaps he knows her better than anyone else in his gilded town. Regardless, he coaxes her back to the edge with him with the softness of his lips and the scrape of his teeth and the caress of his fingers and hands in her most intimate places.

Skilled but sweet. Confident but desperate. The dichotomy of this man confounds her. Her back scrapes against the wall in time with the piston of his perfect hips, and the music of his soft moans has her near orgasm once again.

The build is slower this time and she relishes in every sensation, trying to commit them to memory. When she finally shatters around him at the crest of it all, Elvis shudders with a low groan and thrusts impossibly deep before pulsing hard, filling her with cum.

They collapse in on each other then, a panting silence filling the space around them. His breath is wet and heavy in the crook of her neck. She mindlessly runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, which is damp with sweat.

Oh, she’s in deep trouble with this one and she knows it. Part of her wants nothing more to stay like this forever, back scraping against the plaster, collapsed in a satisfied heap in Elvis’ arms.

A pleased hum comes from him, vibrating her sensitive skin, as he nestles deeper into her, despite the softening of his penis. It is needy and cuddly and unexpected based on the way he barged in earlier. But he continues to hold her tight, and she is powerless to deny him such a comfort.

She doesn’t want to.

“Come back with me, honey,” he whispers into the shell of her ear, causing her skin to pebble. “Please.”

Pepper wants to cry at the vulnerable way he says it and how it leaves her feeling so special because it seems to prove this was not just an angry, possessive fuck from a man who always gets what he wants. No, it feels charmingly sweet and melts her heart and body in all the right ways. It would be so easy to go, so tempting to fall into his arms again and again.

But things have never been easy for her and her damn pragmatic mind won’t let it rest why he showed up here in the first place.

“I—I can’t leave my jobs,” she whispers, her fingers carting through his dark hair by their own accord as his lips tackle her pulse point. She feels him smile against her skin, an action which shoots straight into her core, as if he hadn’t left her sated twice already.

“Well, I thought ya might say that, but it jus’ so happens the Hilton has a book-keeping openin’, if ya want it,” he says dreamily.

It takes a moment for her post-coital brain to make sense of what he’s saying. She pulls back.

“Wait. Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he replies, forcing his pleased grin into a serious scowl.

Her heart pounds even more than it did when his lips were on her. She knows jobs like this are hard for people like her to come by. Most casinos don’t want to take a chance on a showgirl doing their books.

This could change everything for her.

“I…but I don’t have much experience and they’ll never—” she babbles, sending herself into a panic.

“Baby,” he shushes, finally removing himself from her and setting her down gently, “you’ve already got the job.” He smooths her hair, lulling her into relaxing.

She shakes her head in disbelief. Part of her wants to balk against the kindness, telling her she didn’t earn it for herself. Elvis gleans this, however.

“Let me help you, darlin’,” he coos at her, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Please. Let someone else take care of ya for once.”

Tears spring to her eyes. She can’t help it. The rollercoaster of the last few days has left her raw.

“You didn’t have to—it’s too much,” she sniffles, blinking back the tears.

“Wasn’t nothin’, baby. And you’ll be great, workin’ with all those numbers,” he says, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “And, it ain’t entirely selfless,” he muses, “considerin’ you’ll be workin’ in the same place as me and they don’t need you to start for a couple weeks. Those hours give you plenty of time to come see me. To be with me.”

She can’t help but chuckle at that. “But I have to—”

“Good thing about that signing bonus, too. Means ya won’t have to worry ‘bout leavin’ those other jobs of yours,” he says nonchalantly.

“I’m sure you had nothing to do with that,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Nope, no siree.” His eyes twinkle at her.

Her guarded incredulousness disintegrates when she realizes he listened to her. Despite the misguided way he went about it, he figured out her need to be self-sufficient, solved the problem holding her back from him, and managed to get her a job she could barely dream of a few days ago.

It’s infuriating to her head-strong nature that he’s so deftly wheedled around all the obstacles and that she wants nothing more than to be in his arms and hear his vulnerability and go to his damn shows.

“Whadya say, Peppercorn? Will ya come be with me?” He says it with only the slightest tremor of doubt, those soulful eyes of his searching hers, dredging up feelings she knows will likely bite her in the ass later.

Finally, she takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine,” she tries to say with a hint of frustration, but she’s unable to keep her hopeful smile from raising the corners of her mouth.

The dimple carved out beneath his apple cheeks makes it all worth it and sends a shower of tingles through her body. He swoops her up in his arms, kissing her deeply and hugging her so tight she can barely draw breath.

Suffocated by Elvis Presley’s kisses wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, she thinks humorously as he takes her breath away.

“I should go clean up and pack some things,” she pants when they finally tear themselves away from each other.

He nods, looking mussed and blissful, his bedroom eyes heavy as though the night’s events have finally all caught up to him. Holding her hand until the last possible second, she’s near convinced that he’s about ready to fall asleep standing up.

She’s halfway down the hall when he calls out to her, voice husky. “Hey, honey.”

Pepper turns back to look at him.

“Bring the shirt,” Elvis says, his dark brow quirking suggestively, “I like it on ya.”

He gives her an idea, a bold one she acts on before she can think too much on it. “Bet you’d like it off me even more,” she says, sliding the already open shirt off her shoulders. It falls in a soft heap around her feet.

His eyes go wide and take in her bare form from head to toe. “Damn, woman, I think ya might be right.”

And with a growl, he charges her, sending her into shrieking giggles as she flees into her room. Tapping some hidden reserve of energy, he lifts her and throws her on her unmade bed, and then climbs in on top of her, showering her with kisses everywhere.

Loving the way his long body presses her into the sheets, she feels utterly content for once in her life to let loose a little and live in the present without a care in the world.

“Gonna take care of ya,” he whispers, running his hand reverently over her naked curves.

And she knows he will.

(If you want to get stories like this early, come join my Patreon) 💗

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#reblogging to read once I’m fully focused #I already know this is about to touch my soul in the right place

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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I hope fans stop defending Priscilla after this movie tbh

While I don’t agree with her logic for telling the same story over and over again in different ways (to the point that it’s hard to tell what’s fact and what’s not), I could care less about people defending her. It’s their prerogative, in my opinion. I don’t support her for my own personal reasons but I won’t tell others not to support her. It’s their choice.

But at the end of the day, I choose Elvis first because I’m his fan first and foremost.

#daisy speaks #daisy.log #elvis presley #elvis #my darlin’ anon

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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Gene Kelly married Betsy Blair when she was 17 or so and he was 29, they met when she was 15 at an audition. But you never hear about this.

It’s so easy to overlook that it was a different time. People married young a lot during those times, that doesn’t make them predators unless it is obviously shown that some grooming or abuse came into play.

#daisy speaks #daisy.log #my darlin’ anon

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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it breaks my heart seeing the hate and ignorance surrounding elvis’ name even though he’s been dead for 46yrs. we’re all human and all make mistakes so why is he held to such high standards by so many people… why isn’t the fact that he was extremely loving and generous talked about more? why is it always the women? he went through so much shit when he was alive and still is even though he’s finally getting to rest 😕

Hi nonnie,

I wish I could tell you the reasoning behind it all but unfortunately, I cannot. Elvis was by no means a perfect person and that’s because like you said, he was human and human beings make mistakes but there’s no reason to throw dirt on the man because of them.

It’s beyond annoying to me that people only focus on his relationships with women and his sex life when there’s other things to look into, like his music, his spirituality, his love for his friends and family and most importantly, his love for his fans. I wish I had a better explanation but I don’t and probably won’t ever have one.

The only thing I can say, however, is that those of us who have spent a unlimited amount of time on learning about who he was and just appreciating that he was born on this shitty planet in general should be something that brings solace. He was one in a million and no amount of hate could ever undo what he’s contributed to.

#daisy speaks #daisy.log #elvis presley #elvis #my darlin’ anon

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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elvis signing his performance contract with the international hotel in las vegas (feb 26, 1969)

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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Due to the Censoring of my old blog: @precious-little-scoundrel I am trying to move over to this new account permanently. With the intent to deactivate the old, main blog. As I’d hate to lose my friends in one fell swoop, I’m hoping to maintain the old account for a bit as I transfer over here. Your asks here may be delayed but they are welcomed 💋

Old Masterlist

#my marina is here to stay

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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It’s wild how people are still liking Sweet Inspiration. That’s my little baby. Thank you all for continually supporting me and my work! I will be back with more work eventually, I promise.

-Daisy

#daisy speaks #daisy.log #elvis and songbird #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #my husband elvis aaron 💕#sweet inspiration #elvis

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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My favorite 50s!Elvis photos, part 101 of ∞; Same, baby, same

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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ITS BEEN A YEAR?! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

We have to talk about this…

Can you IMAGINE what it must have been like to be an Elvis fan in 1960? Like there was basically a two year content drought and then he comes back looking like THIS??

And THIS?

AND THIS???

AND OF COURSE THIS

LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, SIR?

Just imagine…

And THEN he has the utter AUDACITY to record Elvis is Back.

Which includes this, with its OBSCENE ending:

And of course this eargasm of a classic:

And THIS, which currently has me in a chokehold:

But NO, that was not enough for our man, no sir. He ALSO had to go on the Frank Sinatra show! Looking like THIS!

And THEN, as if the women of America hadn’t already collapsed from these earth-shattering moments, he goes and does G. I. Blues!

And don’t even get me started with Flaming Star or Wild in the Country!! I’ve reached the image limit for this post already!!

I just…like it would’ve been SO MUCH. I mean, we are more used to the overwhelming Elvis content today and STILL cannot handle it, but just IMAGINE being in 1960 and dealing with this in real time.

Elvis is Back, indeed.

(Thanks to @powerofelvis for indulging these ideas of mine this morning)

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powerofelvis · 6 months

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Basic Training Chapter 7

Mad love to my alpha @whositmcwhatsit seriously your editing and feedback make this so much better. Also love and special thanks to my lovely elvis coven, @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @peskybedtime @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @powerofelvis @be-my-ally @shakerattlescroll @lookingforrainbows and to @ab4eva for her sweetness, you were the only person to ask me about Bess on tumblr between now and the last chapter and I was like oh, I guess someone is still reading this. Which is good. Because I am still writing it. ;)

Thanks to everyone who reads this, shares, reblogs, leaves a comment or whatever. I write for myself, but I publish for community, and I don't think I could write with out your support and friendship.

Summary: Bess resigns to get over Elvis and move on, but he has other plans.

Warnings: Not much, depictions of mental illness/delusion.

WC: 6.5 K

If you need to catch up Chapter Six: Guided Missiles or the masterlist here Basic Training

Click here if you prefer to read on A03

Chapter 7: The Minefield

12:15 p.m., Friday, April 24th, 1958

Commissioned Officer’s Mess

Army Intelligence Training Unit, Fort Hood, TX

“I thought you were applying to law school?”

Bess let her straw drop out of her mouth to meet James’ concerned stare across the mahogany table.

“Um, I changed my mind.” Her eyes dropped back to her chocolate egg cream and she paused for a moment. The sound of glasses clinking and hushed conversations reverberated through the Army Intelligence officer’s club. “I kinda dropped the ball on writing my sample essay. And,ugh, I haven't been able to focus at all on studying for the entrance exam.” Bess trailed her shoe anxiously across the burgundy carpet, she hated admitting that she had given up on lawyer school. “It’s just temporary, a temporary pause. No, for now, I think a year or two working for the state department is the best next step. I’ve always wanted to spend time in Europe..”

“But Helsinki, Bess?” James reached over to comfort her with a hand squeeze, but she pulled loose and went back to eating her pot roast lunch.

“Finland is a stepping stone.I could be working in Berlin next summer. And Helsinki has a lot of international action. It’s right next to St. Petersburg.”

“This sudden need to go to the coldest burg in Europe wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain tall, dark soldier who’s been doing extra laps around the barracks every day, would it?”

Bess lifted her thick, white cotton napkin to obscure the blush spreading up her cheeks. “I saw that he’s had extra PT, I’ve been wondering what happened.”

“Oh? I thought for sure that was all you and your front office connections, getting back at Presley — “

“Jameson, I would never abuse my position in the Front Office for revenge. You know how basic training is. Drill sergeants use any excuse to tear you apart just so they can build you back up again. He probably was late to inspection, or maybe he tried to protest extra push ups, and now it’s marathon time everyday til he’s learned his lesson.”

“Hmmm, must be. Though I don’t feel even the teensiest twinge of sympathy for him after that stunt he pulled on you? Think it would look suspicious if he got run over by a jeep? In his barracks?” James winked at Bess/

“Ha, just say you made a wrong turn.” Bess chuckled, but her smile quickly faded into a sigh.

She speared a potato with her fork, looking at it as if it had the answer to life’s secrets like a magic eight ball. Maybe all she needed to do was turn potato over and around until it revealed her fate. Sadly, no messages turned up, and she laid it back on her plate.

“Thing is, I knew he had other girlfriends. I just wished he’d called and canceled our plans instead of leaving me hanging to find out another way. The most humiliating way.”

“Maybe he couldn’t get away to call? Or forgot your number? Have you seen him at all?”

Bess shook her head, sipping her drink again. “Uh uh. But I’ve been avoiding him. What am I supposed to say? It hurt my feelings that you put the kibosh on our night together for a pajama party with one of your steady girlfriends?“ Her eyes met James. “But, uh, he knows my number, though. He called that Monday, after she left town. And several other times.”

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know, I have Kay on switchboard duty. She has strict instructions to inform male callers that I’m not home.”

“You oughta talk to him, honey, let him have it.”

“I’d rather not, I - I, it was, uh. The whole thing felt so icky, I never want to feel that way again. It took me back to last summer and Be. Except, this time, I’m the other woman and I know all about his girlfriend back in Memphis.” Bess put down her fork, unable to eat anymore. “I think my picker is broken, James. I’m destined to be alone.”

“But are you supposed to be alone in Helsinki?”

“I’m actually excited to be single in Helsinki.” James raised his eyebrows. “What? The city is is pretty hip!They just hosted the Olympics. Lots of people live there from all over the world. After Berlin, it is one of the top hubs for working with the Ruskies.”

“Ok, ok, I get it, you hussy, you’ll probably be able to play patty cake with an assortment of good looking European men. I just can’t believe you are abandoning me, it’s so selfish. I’m almost ready to swear I’ll never buy another Presley record.”

“I’m not leaving because of him!” Bess huffed at the way James arched his eyebrow higher and straightened her napkin over her skirt. Aggressively. “I swear, how many times do I have to tell you, he’s just helped me get the perspective I needed. The straw that broke the camel’s back. I gotta get out of this place before I wind up like Mabel.”

James sniffed as he motioned to the waiter. “Mabel seems happy, could be worse.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. But you might be out of here before me. I only just sent in my application materials, you know how these civilian posts can be. If I make the first cut, I still have to do a round of phone interviews,an in-person one, a thorough background check. Why, I probably won’t head out until the summer. If I get it.”

James quirked his mouth and whistled when they stood to leave and shook his head.

“Seems like such a waste to store all your resources behind a desk. Should be out, serving our country at USO shows.”

Bess slapped James shoulder, then straightened his jacket, smoothing her hand over his medals.

“Jameson, stop. Do you talk to the debutantes back in Rhode Island like this? You know, half the officers in here are probably my father’s spies. Keep whistling at me like that, they’ll convince him we’re an item.” She grabbed her purse and put her gloves back on. “Besides, I am not exactly the type who likes performing or attention.:

He looked her over once again, making an exaggerated show of appreciation for the way that Bess’ smart tweed pencil skirt hugged her hips.

“Oh, but that’s what makes you such a knockout, Bessie Girl. Why don’t we get married, huh? We could travel the world together, life would never be boring. We’d have great looking, smart kids.”

Bess put her finger to James’ lips, looking into the hazel eyes that glimmered below his perfectly coiffed honey blonde hair.

“I wish I could. I can’t marry someone I don’t love, not in the way I love you anyway.It’s no good, we’d end up ruining our friendship.”

James slid his arm through Bess’ as he led them out of the officer’s club. “I suppose you’re right, Schwartz, but if you ever get desperate and want to be married to a dashing officer who’d never leave you for another woman, the offer stands.”

“This is no time to be getting married, Jameson. I’m sure you’ll want to enjoy the local flavor in Heidelberg.”

“Hmm, yeah, no matter the gene pool, it’s gotta be better than this dump.”

Bess smoothed her hair once they were outside and turned to James. He looked so handsome in his dashing officer’s uniform, cap under his arm. He was probably the best looking, wealthiest man to ever propose to her, even in jest. She really would miss him once they left Fort Hood. Bess gripped James arm tighter before they parted, and smiled.

“No kidding, I can’t wait to put Fort Hood and Elvis and everything in my rear view mirror. Get a fresh start in gorgeous, romantic Helsinki-town, city of dreams.”

“I thought that was Paris?”

“Nope, pretty sure it’s Helsinki. Though I understand why you’re confused, Helsinki is the Paris of the Baltic Sea.”

“No one calls it that.”

“Sure they do, I’m starting it now.”

James smiled, fixing his uniform cap back on his head. “Ha, ok. Well, as they say in Helsinki, au revoir.”

*********************************************

Bess’ fresh start suddenly seemed a million miles away when she glimpsed Elvis Presley running round the base. It had only taken a few minutes after she got into her father’s Oldsmobile before she recognized Elvis’ tall, perspiring figure jogging around the circular track behind the PX. There he was, in his sweat-soaked tee-shirt, dog tags jingling over his chest, running towards them in the dusk of sunset.

It struck her for a moment how odd it was for the drill sergeants to have him do laps out here on the road near the gate instead of closer to the 37th tank division. They must be making a public example of him, she thought, having him do laps out here as people drive past on a main road out of the base.

It was working, he looked absolutely miserable and exhausted. The cold grimace he had fixed on his face pulled on Bess’ heartstrings, and she felt a compulsory urge to go comfort him. But then she remembered why she’d cut him loose, and nodded to herself, reaffirming how wise she was protecting herself from further heartache. It wasn’t easy.

She got so captivated watching him take off his cap and wipe his forehead as they got closer, that she suddenly realized he was about to run by her car and had to quickly duck down flat against the bench seat to avoid being seen.

“Ilsa, whatever are you doing?”

Bess popped up with a squeak, looking over her shoulder at Elvis’ figure running away behind them, then stuttered to her father. “I, um, I dropped my lipstick on the floor is all, Papa.”

Dinner was pleasant enough. Mama served tuna noodle casserole and followed it with a cherry cream cheese jello mold. It was comforting to Bess to think these were recipes any other family on the block might be eating tonight. Though she doubted whether the other mothers were wearing a matching red dress and explaining the deep meaning behind the color red, and how powerful color it is, one that can provide all the strength and nourishment they needed. Bess did concede that cherry Jell-O tasted like what she thought the color red might taste like.

And if a lecture on the spiritual nature of red Jell-o was the most occult Mama got tonight, then tonight was a good night.

After eating, Bess changed into a more comfortable, simple light blue house dress, and was trying to calculate how long it had been since Mama had one of her episodes as she walked downstairs, when she heard Kay on the phone.

“Well, no Rex, I guess I’m not doing anything. Well, sure, gee whiz, yeah, I know a few friends who’d flip their lids at the chance. You bet, meet you there at 8!”

Bess turned the corner at the bottom of the landing, and gripped the polished circular handrail as Kay spun around with a wide, beaming grin. Her sister halted suddenly and tripped forward with a gasp when she caught Bess’s stare.

“Was that Elvis’ bunk mate, Rex?”

Kay gulped. “Mhmmm, I did like you told me, and said you - you weren’t home.”

Bess crossed her arms. “So what, now you’re going out with them?”

“Well, I - he - I heard Elvis tell him to invite me and any other friends to meet them at the movie theatre on post. It’s, it’s, not a date, it’s a group-like thing.”

Bess took a deep sigh. Miles Davis wafted out from behind the closed door of their father’s office at the back of the house, and she could hear her mother doing the dishes. Bess had come down to help clean up, and had planned to spend her Friday evening at home. She thought she might read or watch TV, play a game of gin rummy with Mama. Anything to take her mind off of Elvis. And now here her sister was, running out to go meet him!

“I cannot believe he invited you out.”

“And why is that? You’re not the only charming, good looking girl around here, Bess.”

“That’s not what I was saying, Kay. What kind of guy invites out the sister of a girl - a girl - a girl he’d been riding around with? You aren’t seriously thinking of going? What about Dickie?”

“It’s not like that. Cuz, - it’s - it’s not a date. Why, they’re getting a gang together. Rex said I should bring some other girls. I’m about to call Carol and Tracy. If you think I’m gonna deprive them of the chance to meet Elvis Presley, you got another thing coming. Why, you always keep him all to yourself.” Kay huffed, and put her hands on her hips. “It’s not a date. You could come if you wanted, you know.”

Bess squeezed her hands into tight fists, squelching her sudden intense desire to slap her sister.

“You know exactly why I won’t be doing that, I told you how things went with him and you are smart enough to know he is probably doing this to upset me. And you’re helping him! My own sister. Kay Brutus Schwartz.”

Kay’s face fell, and she met Bess in the middle of the hallway. “It’s not like that at all. Please don’t be mad, Bess, but me and my friends, we have all his albums. You can’t hold it against me for wanting to go. It’s not like I asked, he - ”

Bess brushed Kay’s hand from her shoulder and stomped off in a huff, her anger powered her through an incredibly fast cleaning session in the kitchen.

Mama dried the last plate Bess handed her, then put her arms around Bess at the sink. “See, Bessie baby, all that red Jell-o gave you the energy and focus you needed. I’ll get you some red silk underwear for your new job, I saw some in the Montgomery Ward catalog. Or were they red flannel long johns? Well, you’ll need both in Helsinki.”

*********************************************

Bess had frowned as Kay traipsed out the door to meet her friends when Carol pulled up in her mother’s yellow DeSoto. At first she took her book upstairs and sat at the window, watching for Kay’s return around 10 p.m.

By 10:30, she had moved to the porch, where she sat up on the bench hugging her knees and trying to read while she waited to catch her sister and pump her for information outside where their parents wouldn’t hear them.

Yawning, she was just straightening the bows on her white house slippers when she turned to see a car pulling up in front of the house. But this was not Carol’s mother’s yellow DeSoto. It was a white Cadillac. And she made the mistake of looking up long enough to note the row of guys in the back seat and make eye contact with Elvis as he parked.

Fuck, Bess muttered to herself staring back into her book, unable to focus her eyes on any of the words. In her periphery, she watched Elvis jump out and race around the front of his car, loosely putting his arm around a giddy, smiling Kay as he walked her up the path to the front porch.

Bess took a deep breath, accepting that there was nothing she could do, that she was stuck out here with her hair in a messy bun wearing a house dress and slippers. So, she braced herself and stood to confront the most famous man in the world.

The cool night air was no comfort to the heated temper rising in her chest as Elvis walked up the stairs in front of her, his fingers now spread over Kay’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed, and a smirk played over his face.

“Hellooooo there Bess, ain’t you sweet, coming out here to greet me.”

“Hmmmm.” Bess nodded, curtly, exhaling at Kay’s sheepish grin.

“Well, I enjoyed our date tonight, Kitty Kat, didju?” He gave Kay’s shoulder a rub and Kay laughed nervously at his nickname, glancing back at Bess as she untangled herself from Elvis’ grip.

“Oh, well, it was a gas to meet you and the whole gang,” Kay made a show of waving at the car, “Tell Rex thanks for the Coke and candy.”

Elvis ran his hand through his hair.“Uh, well, I wudda bought you all the Cokes you wanted, I just -”

Bess interrupted him. “Let me guess, you forgot your wallet?”

“Yeah, guess that’s happened before.” Elvis chuckled.

“Ahem, Kitty Kat is it?” Bess raised her eyes at her sister. “Probably time you were in bed, little girl. I have a few words I need to have with your date, here.”

Kay coughed and avoided Bess’ intense look of death as she thanked Elvis for a fun night. He grabbed her hand, making eye contact with Bess over Kay’s shoulder and he hugged her sister and gave her a soft peck on the cheek. Kay hung in his embrace for several beats, then scuttled away to leave Elvis with Bess’s cool stare

“You have some nerve.”

Elvis took a step toward her, “Aw, Bess, now see, when you act like this it makes me think you still like me.”

“Is that ri-ight?” Her voice wavered as he took a step toward her with his shoulders back, head forward, rubbing the back of his neck. She stumbled back a few steps, distracted by the way his eyes pierced her from under his eyebrows.

“See, you actin’ like ya jealous, honey. But you ain’t playin’ fair.“

“Really. I don’t play fair?”

“Uh uh.” Now he was hovering over her, backing her into the front of the house, his lower lip hanging open as he leaned over her. “You play hot one day, then cool the next. Won’t take my calls, but now ya jealous. Playin’ games s’what it is, and I can’t stand chicks who play games.”

“Ha!” Bess had meant her declaration to be a lot more forceful than how it came out as a muffled breath into the dark, red fisherman’s sweater Elvis was wearing. Of course! Of course his sweater was red. It sucked all Bess’ strength right out of her. And her resolve. She tried for dear life to hang on to the painful embarrassment that had punched her in the gut when she met Anita.

“You’re - you’re - you had - you’re the one who -”

Elvis’ hand was at her waist, and his thumb pressed over her belly button.

“Sshhh. I know, I missed our date.”

Bess mumbled toward her shoes. “Well, I wouldn’t call a party in a cheap motel room a date by any me-“

Elvis’ pursed his lips in a grin as he brought his other hand to Bess’ cheek, his eyes gleaming as she shivered in him. He tilted her chin to meet his eyes. Bess tried to shake him off, but couldn’t, she was spellbound by the pair of dark blue eyes above her.

She reminded herself that there was an audience of grown men watching them from his back seat. Then she thought she saw the curtain at the front window ripple and realized Kay was probably leaning against the wall inside, spying on them. She thought about how Elvis had invited her sister out, at the very least to get her attention, or at worst, to make her jealous. She thought about how she had sworn to her best friend hours ago that she never wanted to see Elvis Presley again. She tried to grasp at all these things and more as Elvis stepped closer to her, and shifted his arm over her against the wall. But suddenly thinking was very difficult. Elvis’ thumb circled the button at the waist of her cotton house dress.

“OK, ok,well, when you say it like that, sounds awful. Definitely weren’t no date. Still, Kitty Kat told me how upset you’ve been. And I know I shudda called you.” Elvis took a deep breath, and coughed. “ And, well, that gal came down and surprised the hell outta me, is what happened. I didn’t invite her, now that’s the god’s honest truth. But, well, put me in an awful bind and I couldn’t get away to call you. Wudda much rather spent the weekend with you, Moo Moo.”

His breath was warm on her neck, and the way he murmured her nickname was like a sultry saxophone solo. Bess closed her eyes as it rolled over her body, giving her goosebumps. His whisper was full of vulnerable need and Bess couldn’t believe that she actually felt bad for him, as if she were to blame for everything.

“I - I - I’m sorry.”

“Nah, honey, I reckon, if I’m honest with ma self, you have every right to be sore at me. But you havta give a man the chance to defend hisself. Tell me now, don’t a man deserve a chance to splain?”

There was his thumb, gliding over the front of her stomach, rubbing back and forth.

“Really, I wasn’t trying to play games.”

“I know, Moo Moo. I know’d you weren’t really like that, else I wouldn’t be here.” He leaned in, pressing his open lips to the corner of her jaw, soft and delicate as he continued his whispers. “Though I don’t know if I could stay away even if you were the devil, baby. Ain’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His mouth was warm on her neck. “You, and only you.”

His touch sent a wave of feverish heat through her body, and Bess didn’t care if he was lying, all she knew was that she would willingly go back to his motel room with him right now in her flimsy white house slippers and all. However, before she could make that suggestion, she heard the front door open and she jumped up instantly, pushing Elvis away at the sight of her father’s silhouette in the dim porch light.

“Elizabeth, it’s cold out tonight. Why don’t you invite your guest inside?”

Bess swallowed hard, glancing up at Elvis, whose cool demeanor and friendly smile belied the fingers she could see tapping against his thigh through his pocket. She looked out at the car, then up at the dark sky, shaking her head to herself.

“ Hi Papa, this is, uh - ”

Elvis stood up straight and jerked his hand out as he strode to shake her father’s hand.

“Uh, good evening, Sir, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley.”

“Yes, I’ve been expecting to meet you for some time now.” Bess’ mouth dropped open. Before she could find the words to protest, her father was putting his arm around Elvis and guiding him inside. “I understand you and Ilsa have been spending a lot of time together, jah?”

*********************************************

“Can I pour you a whiskey?” The table lamp flickered as Bess’ father walked by, his calm words trailed behind him on his way to the bar.

Elvis sat at the edge of the couch patting his hand to a silent rhythm and then bouncing up again to pace over to the hi-fi set.

“Naw, jus a Pepsi - or a Big Red, honey.” Bess glared at him as he looked up at her from where he perched in front of the record player. “Bessie. I mean, Eliz-a-bess.”

Bess frowned as Elvis popped open the concealed door in the sound system’s speakers and proceeded to rifle through her father’s LP collection. Her father arched his eyebrow, muttering in German that the boy seemed to know his way around and feel quite at home, jah? Bess was asking Rex and Lamar what they wanted when Mama floated into the living room, swaying the skirt of her red dress back and forth, a dreamy look in her face. Bess froze, looking around the room, then scuttling over to her mother and latching her arm around Mama’s waist, whispering in her ear.

“Mama - Hi Mama, I thought you went upstairs to relax?”

The boys all stood up as Mama patted Bess on the shoulder. “Bess, you’re making the lamps all buzzy, stop buzzing around and introduce me to your friends.”

Bess sighed and then froze when Elvis walked over and took her mother’s hand, kissing the top.

“Evening, ma’am, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley, s’a pleasure to meet you, I can see where your daughters get their good looks from, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Mama giggled and blushed. “Ha, well, you are charming. The faeries told me Bessie had a new beau, but they didn’t say he was handsome.” Bess’ face went white as she tried to guide her mother to the big orange leather chair in the corner, but Mama swatted her hands away. “Bess, I said to quit fussin’. Go get our guests something to drink.”

Every cell in Bess’ body was on high alert, and she rubbed at her throat trying quell the nauseous, tight feeling that now plagued her stomach. Bess had not brought Ben, her former fiancee, home to meet her family until he had asked her to marry him. At that point, they had already been going steady for two months, she had trusted Ben completely and had given him a thorough debriefing on Mama and the family dynamics. She had known Elvis a month. ANd spent the last two weeks hating him.

Elvis returned her mother’s hand and flashed Bess a warm, crooked reassuring smile. Rex and Lamar gathered next to him making their awkward introductions, before Papa walked over and offered Mama his hand, tilting his head at Kay.

“Come sit with me, Emily, let the boys relax. Katherine, you get the drinks.”

Bess followed Kay into the hall. “I’ll get it, Kay, I -uh - I was gonna make Mama a special cup of tea - “

“I got it, I know how to do it. You go back in there.” Kay winked, and left Bess to sigh as she took a deep breath and resigned herself to face whatever was waiting for her in the living room.

Elvis sat on the edge of the couch trying to stop his knee from bopping up and down with the palm of his hand, already in conversation with Bess’ father.

“Jah, I started off in the German division, but now I oversee all intelligence training.”

Elvis’ eyes widened and he seemed grateful to see Bess walk back into the room and hit Lamar to clear the seat next to him on the couch. Bess shook her head and sat at the piano bench, trying to think of how to change the subject.

“Papa, I imagine the boys are tired after a long week and - “

“Oh Bessie, don’t send them away!” Mama waved her off as she got up and happily plopped into the clear spot next to Lamar, shooting Bess a playful frown. “You never bring friends over any more, it’s a breath of fresh air having young people over. Want any leftover tuna noodle casserole?”

A momentary grimace passed over Elvis’ face as he declined, and Bess' father coughed.

“Too bad we don’t have any meatloaf, perhaps zat would have suited you better.”

“Actually, mister, I’m bout plumb fed up with meatloaf, EP’s been ordering - “ Lamar stopped talking at the sight of Elvis’ eyebrow, arched in warning.

“Well, Bess makes a great meatloaf, you boys will have to come back for dinner sometime. I’ll get her to cook it up for you.” Mama bowed her head with certainty as she spoke, turning Elvis’ hand over in her lap as if to read his fortune. “Elvis, such an unusual name. What does it mean?”

“Ugh, well, ma’am.” Elvis scooted back against the arm rest, turning in to face Bess’ mother more directly. “I have been told it means someone who is uh, very wise.” He winked over at Bess as she rolled her eyes. Kay returned, and she bounced up to assist in handing out the drinks.

“I’ve never heard the name Elvis before tonight, is it common where you’re from?”

Lamar gasped. “You never heard ‘a Elvis?”

“No, why, should I? Do you all work with Henry in Intel?”

Elvis shook his head. “No, no ma’am, Rexadus here and I, well, we’re new recruits, and Lamar right here is jus’ a ole friend of mine, visiting.”

Mama smiled big. “Oh, well, if you think I would have heard of you from Bess, you have another thing coming. She’s a sphinx, that one, never tells me anything about anything.I have to get all my gossip from the wind.”

“Elvis is a famous performer, mama. They’re surprised you’ve never heard of him because he is on the radio. And the movies.”

“Oh, is that true? Would I know any of your music?”

Just then, the phone in Papa’s office began to ring and he stood up to excuse himself, muttering in German that he would hardly call it music. Bess exhaled a chuckle at the curious look on Elvis’ face.

“I’m guessing that weren’t a rousin’ endorsement from ya daddy,huh ?”

She shook her head, and Mama clucked.

“Oh, Henry didn’t get enough red food tonight, don’t mind him. You know, you’re not the first song and dance man I’ve met. When I was a girl - “

“-I met Eddie Cantor when he sang at Zeyde’s theatre on Coney Island.” Bess and Kay exclaimed in unison with a grin.

Bess relaxed as the room filled with warm laughter and she almost felt like they were a normal family, teasing and chiding each other as they entertained guests.

“Oy, well, it’s true, you boys have heard of Eddie Cantor, haven’t you?” Mama grinned at their nods, and took it as her cue to keep talking between sips of tea. “Well, I was just a kid when he was first making it big in New York. And my father had this vaudeville theater, and we met all sorts of acts working their way up the circuit. Baby Rose Marie, Bert WIlliams, Jimmy Durante, and, of course, a lot of nobodies trying to be somebodies. Eddie was probably the most successful guy to come through our place. Boy, was he handsome! Tall, dark hair, those big gorgeous eyes, like two rounds of chocolate.”

“Mama, zey ton nisht veln tsu hern vegn deyn shule meydl krashiz.”

“Oh, Bess thinks I shouldn’t share these things. She thinks I’m an old lady, that I don’t have blood pulsing in my veins. But I’ve always appreciated a good looking man.” Mama patted Elvis' knee. “Still do.” Then all of a sudden she swayed into Elvis' shoulder, her eyelids fluttering before she slumped on his shoulder.

“Ma’am? Ya ok? I’ve had girls swoon before, though they usually heard a me.”

Bess jumped up and looked over at her sister. “How much did you put in her tea, Kay?”

“Just a tablespoon.”

“It’s supposed to be a teaspoon!” Bess growled through clenched teeth as she felt her mother’s pulse, and tried to unfurl her mother’s arm from around Elvis’ shoulder.

“I’ll take her up - “

“Aw, honey - s’ok, want me to - “

“ - Well, it was an easy mistake.” Kay hovered behind Bess, and stomped her foot.

Mama’s eyelids fluttered back open for a moment and she looked up into Elvis' face. “You know, you have a beautiful aura, Alvis, I can tell you are a good person - Bess, if you don’t marry him, I will.”

Bess gulped, and looked at Kay. “Help me get her up the stairs?”

Before they could do anything, Elvis lifted Mama and nodded at Bess. “Jus lead the way, ‘k Bess honey? Boys, y’all go on out to the car, and we’ll get outta ya hair ‘fore you say lickety splickety.”

Lamar sighed with relief and could not get through the hallway fast enough, almost knocking the telephone off the little desk as he passed. Rex, however, hung back, gathering up the bottles of pop and taking them to the kitchen behind Kay, looking back to nod at Elvis in a silent offer to help. Elvis shook his head and followed Bess up the stairs.

“Alright, now, Mrs. Schwartz, ma’am, ya gonna be snug as a bug in a rug, jus you wait.”

Elvis set Mama down in her bed carefully, gently taking her hands and placing them at her sides. Mama opened her eyes and trailed her fingers over the sharp edge of Elvis' crew cut, smiling dreamily as she asked “Almond” if he would marry her.

“Ya so sweet and beautiful, I would, I would if I could, ma’am.”

Tears welled up behind Bess’ eyes as she watched the tender way Elvis kissed her mother’s cheek and squeezed her hand before she passed out. They exchanged a long look, and Bess blushed.

“I’m sorry you had to see all this, I’m so embarrassed. You didn’t have to stay and help me - “

Elvis rubbed her shoulder. “Honey, I wanted to help, I like helping folks. Ain’t nuthin to be shamed of. Really Moo Moo, wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to. An getting to spend my night with the prettiest lil gal in town, why, that’s just the icing on the cake.” His face scrunched into a big grin as he held her, and bess nodded into the comfy wook of his red sweater.

Elvis stood in the doorway, watching curiously as Bess took off her mother’s shoes and tucked her under the large, homemade victory quilt that they had sewn from old clothes during the war. It was the only blanket Mama would sleep with, and for Bess, it evoked that time in her childhood when Papa was overseas doing things he couldn’t talk about and Mama was the strongest woman she could imagine.

Now, as she looked down at her mother and smoothed hair out of her face, it was Mama who resembled a little girl, finally relaxed and at ease as she started to snore. Her sleeping face free from the cares and mysteries of the world. Bess kissed her mother on the forehead, and turned to find Elvis waiting for her in the doorway. His blue eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, as his thumb rubbed the side of her shoulder.

“Holdin’ it all together, ain’t ya Moo Moo. I see you. I really do.”

Bess shuddered at his touch, wiping the side of her eyes.

“I, um, I. Well, you caught us on a bad night, Almond.”

He chuckled, drawing her into his arms and kissing the top of her forehead.

“Nah, ain’t nothing bad about anything.” The sides of his crinkled as he smirked. “Almond, huh. maybe ya mama there is on to sumpin. Might sell more records and movie tickets if I changed my name to Almond instead. Tell you what, wudda made it harder for the Army to find me.”

“Yes.” She took his hand and led him back down the stairs.”Though you would have missed out on your freel vacation here at beautiful Fort Hood.”

They were back on her porch, and Elvis was clasping her hand tight. He looked out at the darkness, and at his car on the street, then over the garden, before turning back to hover over Bess, hands resting at her waist.

“Wudda missed out on meeting you, honey. Ya my silver lining. Tonight, being here with you, I know it now for certain that fate brought us together.”

Bess turned her head to listen to the crickets, wondering if they had any advice on how to defy fate. Especially when fate distracted you from all common sense by nuzzling your forehead.

“Elvis - I - “

His lips were at her ear as he drew her closer. “Aw, Moo Moo, I cain’t bear to think I made you cry. I mean it.” His thumbs rolled up and down Bess’ sides. ”I promise, ain’t ever let that happen again. I swear. Cuz I need ya, honey, been thinking ‘bout you all the time.”

Bess couldn’t resist the way his eyes lit up with hopeful vulnerability, it made her feel like she was the one who had wronged him by withdrawing her company from him.

“I - I think about you too.” She cupped his cheek. “I’ve seen you doing laps every evening, are you doing okay?”

Elvis huffed and pinched her side. “Oh, yeah, you know me. Every morning, those drill sergeants find a reason to be cross at me, makin’ me do extra PT. But ain’t nothin I can’t handle.”

Bess nodded. Then Elvis’ hands tightened all the way around her, constricting her so tight she almost couldn’t breath, before parting with a soft, chaste farewell kiss and a vague promise to call her the next day.

Bess was humming to herself as she turned off the porch light and locked the door behind her, stopping short when she saw her father come out of his office.

“Everything ok, Papa?’

“Jah, jah. That was just the secure line, a call from D.C.” He straightened his sweater, coughing as he took in the dim quiet of their house. “Ze hound dog has run off, I take it?”

“He’s not so bad, you know.” Bess shifted and looked at her feet, unable to stop the smile at the corner of her mouth. “The drill sergeants have really had it out for him this last week. He’s been running extra PT and they put him on latrine duty. Must have pissed off the wrong person.”

Bess stopped talking, noticing that her father’s face had soured into a tight grimace. She had probably been right not to tell her parents that she had been seeing Elvis. This would be tough, now there was nothing she could do now.

“Jah, that boy did piss off the wrong person. Me. You would be wise to cut your ties with him, Elizabeth, he does not respect women. And you have a bright future ahead of you. I might expect Katherine to be dazzled by this flash of Memphis. But you are too smart for all that. I would hate to see you lose focus on your goals to run around with a boy who brings his hoochie coochie girlfriends to town and flaunts them in your face.”

Bess was silent as her father pursed his lips, nodding, then said good night. She listened to the sound of his footsteps as he walked up stairs, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how he had found out about Elvis. About the debacle with Anita. About all of it.

The disappointment she had seen in her father’s eyes crushed her, and Bess tossed and turned in her bed all night trying to figure out how she could make him understand that she could have fun and still go after her goals. It was the thought of Elvis’ long thumbs caressing her body that finally calmed her down. The memory of his touch was like her own personal dose of benzodiazepine, it made her forget all her problems and give herself over to the sandman.

********************************************************************

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