All the pretty girls Pt2. (Pyotr Kochetkov)

After all the drama, Pyotr was finally with you and he wanted everything. Smut. Continuation of : All the pretty girls Note: this has sat on my drafts for so long I can't even remember who asked for this. I hope you like it! Warnings: +18. Penetrative sex (p in v), oral (f receiving)

His back muscles moved as he worked in the kitchen. The Canes sweats he wore hung low on his hips. Being used to see him with baggy clothes or his equipment, you were a bit taken aback. It was instantly when your pulse increased and your throat ran dry.

"Hi"

Pyotr turned around fast. Caught in the act. "Hi" He said. Sweat formed on his forehead when he took in your apearence. How were you his now?

"What are you doing?" You walked slowly on his direction and he got nervous.

"Cereal" He said. "For you in bed"

Butterflies filled your belly. Just like when you visited him in Chicago that night and he tried to cook pancakes. It was a complete failure.

"Better than pancakes?"

Pyotr rolled his eyes.

"You try next time"

You nodded in response and took another step. There was a mark on his neck, you remembered leaving it last night. Warmth filled your belly. You had made love in the sofa last night. It had been quick and awkward, both of you too desperate to feel the other to care about anything else. As you had told him, you had all the time now. It had been intense but short and both of you got knocked out as soon as you laid on the bed. But still, you couldn't believe you had felt him like that. He hadn't been shy while pushing his hands under your clothes, or while toying with your underwear. Words hadn't been needed, the lenguage wasn't a problem then, Pyotr only needed to whisper your name and you exactly knew what he needed from you.

Pyotr was looking down at you. His clothes were huge on you, the sleeves too long and the shoulders too wide. He could see your cleavage and shoulders a bit. He just wanted to dive in and take a bite. But maybe you should have breakfast first.

You leaned on his side and hugged his waist with one arm. It was incredible to feel his body react to you. Pyotr wrapped one arm around your shoulders only so he could bring you close. A sweet kiss in your forehead and he spoke.

"Grab cereal, please?"

"Of course. But before..." You got in your tiptoes and kissed his lips. "Good morning"

"Good morning" He said groggily.

You let go of him and picked the bowls. But Pyotr couldn't contain himself and slapped your ass. You gasped and looked at him with big eyes. He shrugged and you laughed in response.

"You are lucky I love you" You whispered. Surprisingly, he caught every single word. Wow. "Hey, babe?"

"Mmm, yes" He quickly grabbed some milk and spoons and sat on the small kitchen table. It was small enough for your legs to touch, but you didn't care. Intantly, your legs were over his lap and Pyotr had a cute blush on his cheeks. He would need a couple of days to come to terms with all of this. Wanting it for so long, it was kind of unbelievable to be like this with you. On your side, it was as if you had lost all the restraints. You always wanted to be this close, to pinch his cheeks, to kiss his lips, to hug him, to sit on him... Now that you could, you wouldn't stop.

Like always, Pyotr set his phone on the table, translator on and ready to help.

"I talk to Andrei"

You frowned a bit.

"Today"

"Oh, again?"

He nodded.

"Uh... I want... Uh..." He shook his head and tyoed on the phone. Then he showed you so you would tell him how to pronounce. That's how you worked and he loved it.

"Advice" A little smile tugged on your lips.

"Advice. Good?"

"Yeah. About what?"

He chuckled and pointed at you. "About me? Why?"

He wrote again and read. "I want to take you out on a date" Slow and clumsy, he pronounced every word on thick accent. "Good?"

"I'd love to go on a date with you"

He looked down at the phone and smiled when the translation appeared.

"Andrei say restaurant to me"

You arched a brow. "Which one?"

He zipped his lips while smiling.

"You teach more English, yes?"

"Of course, sweetheart"

Pyotr had quickly learnt what those little words meant. He had to ask Andrei a couple of times at the beginning and it was so embarrassing to discover it that way because Andrei would always wiggle his eyebrows at him or mockingly call him by your cute nicknames at practice.

"I want to learn Russian too, you know?" You told him. He looked down at the translator and his eyes opened so big.

"Yes?"

"Mhm"

He grabbed your chin and gave you a kiss. Well, you could call him a kiss. He slammed his mouth against yours, his lips swallowing a surprised moan from you. Pyotr was feeling all kind of overwhelming things, maybe because of the shock from last night or maybe because of the exciment of finally having you. And it showed on the kiss. You had a hard time keeping up. So you pressed your thumb on his lips and pulled back only a couple of centimeters.

"What do you want?" You whispered. His beautiful eyes stared at you for long seconds.

"You"

"You have me"

"I know" He nodded, his forehead lovingly nudging yours. "You mine"

"I'm yours" You assured him and gave him a deeper but slower kiss. Damn the cereal, you thought. It can definitely wait.

You got up but barely parted from him, only when he moved back to look at you. Last night, in the middle of the hurry, you had barely taken time to undress. Your shirt stayed on, his trousers stayed on, you didn't remember much more, only that you almost didn't got a peak. So you grabbed the edge of your his hoodie and slowly pulled it up.

Pyotr watched you open mouthed. He had felt you, touched you in any way you let him, but what he had imagined had nothing to do with this. With his English completely forgotten, he spoke Russian, which you didn't understand. So the moment came to halt for a second. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world" He read from his phone after typing exactly what he had said. He wouldn't need to memorize those words like others. He would remember just by picturing how you smiled when you heard him.

You cupped his cheeks and kissed him again, slow, deep, wet, Pyotr was starting to love it. You both had a great contrast. He was more impulsive, more needy. You liked to take it slow. He had his moment last night. He had taken you apart in what felt like a couple of seconds (not that you complained). Now it was your turn.

Pyotr pushed his chair away from the table to give you space right between his knees. He guided you there, bringing you closer while his eyes took in your naked torso. Could he just lean and kiss you and did he need to ask? How could he ask? He didn't want to grab the phone now.

"You are so handsome" You whispered and cupped his cheeks. He looked up and swallowed. "I love your eyes" There was something in you pushing you to speak, to tell him all of that, to let him know how much you adored him. You didn't want him to feel insecure or to think you'd be better with someone else. "And your nose" Your thumb caressed the straight bridge of his nose, then it moved to his cheek right under his eye. He sighed and closed them for a second. Your hand was so warm and soft on his skin. "And your lips" You parted his lips with your thumb and his tongue brushed it softly. Pump and rosy from the kisses, they looked so delicious. You leaned closer and kicked into his mouth. Pyotr felt delirious, his fingers were probably leaving prints in your thighs. His mouth tried to catch yours when you pulled back, which made you smile and him groan. "I'm so lucky to have you. I can't believe I have you" you slid your finger on his mouth and Pyotr whined. "Are you mine?" You spoke slow and clear, making sure he could understand every single word. He eagerly nodded. "Are you?"

Your heart was beating so hard, he was so responsive to you. It was clear that Pyotr would do anything you asked him to do.

"Yours"

"Mine" Finally you kissed him. Immediately, his mouth responded to yours, kissing back just as deep and passionately.

Pyotr needed more, he wanted you already, he wanted you to do something. His fingers eagerly pulled down your trousers. You stepped out of them. You stood there, completely bare and shaking in excitement. Pyotr was watching you with his mouth agape and a hard on hidden on his grey sweatpants.

"Perfect" he laid his hand on your belly and you started shaking. His long and warm fingers moved up slowly as a cheeky grin grew on his lips. Pyotr was the one who, with barely touching you, was making your knees buckle and he was so proud of it. "You want me"

You nodded and bit your lip and he kept going up. His right hand found the curve of your breast and his left your lower back. In a sift movement, he brought you close and caged you with his arm. You laid your hands on his shoulders and your breath turned quicker and deeper.

Pyotr's eyes were on your skin. There were little marks here and there and goosebumps all over the place. He had discovered only a minute ago that you were ticklish right were he was touching you. Your body reacted different. He could point where you were slightly more sensitive. He just wanted to play and use it on his favour.

His thumb moved over the invisible line right under your breast. But you were the impatient one this time. With your fingers on the back of his neck you pulled him closer to your chest and his mouth opened for you. Warm and wet, he wrapped his lips around your nipple.

"Oh, Pyotr" You gasped loudly and he groaned.

Eagerly, the goalie pulled you to his lap and kept you impossibly close to him, with your back straight and your breast right were he could reach them. Perfectly shaped and soft, Pyotr planned on giving them the attention they deserved.

The bulge in his trousers pressed right on your naked core and you moaned. But Pyotr didn't care. He was busy mouthing at your breast, bitting at your sensitive nipples and sucking with his lips until they got impossibly hard. The more he did, the better it felt. Wet from his saliva, it was so easy to roll them with his fingers. And all the stimulation was pooling on your lower belly and shooting pleasure waves right to your clit.

"P, baby... I can't..." Because as sensitive you were, it had never been enough to come undone this way. It only made you a dripping mess right between your legs, were you needed him the most.

But again, he didn't pay much attention. Instead, he palmed at your breast giving softness with one hand while he bit your nipple and pulled on the other. A choked moan broke out of your chest, your head hanging back and your hips pressing harder into his. "Please, please, please"

"What?" He looked up and carefully (the last thing he wanted was to hurt you) he gave your nipple a soft smack. Another pretty sound left your lips and you desperately looked down at him. Your hands, that were cupping the back of his neck, traveled quickly downwards.

"You want what, baby? Say to me" He bit the soft flesh of your boob hard enough to print his lips there and you felt the air leaving your lungs.

"You" You said and grabbed his face with one hand. "I have waited for so long to have you, Pyotr..." He thanked his most recent lessons for being able to catch most of what you said. "So long" You pulled his trousers enough to free him. No underwear. It made you smile.

He lifted you enough so he could push them half way on his thighs. "Better" then he reached his pocket and pulled a condom out.

You chuckled in disbelief. "I will fuck you in all house" He whispered while staring into your eyes. It gave shivers to your already shaken body. Pyotr put the condom on and help you move right above his hips.

"Slow, okay?" You said before kissing him.

"Okay" He whispered back between kisses.

You hugged his shoulders with one arm and pushed your forehead against his. Then, you started to slide him in. Pyotr groaned and bit his lip with that first touch, you closed your eyes tight and tried to breathe through your nose. "Oh babe" You whined. You tried to move, you circled your hips and slowly moved up and down. It was torture for both of you but it took you a bit until you could completely sink in. "Pyotr... Oh god... Y-you are so big" You desperately said as you finally could move freely.

"Yes..." He nodded quickly, he didn't know how to express what he was feeling, he just hoped you could feel it. So he kissed you deeply and grabbed you by your hips and ass cheeks. You were moving slowly, he was thrusting up to you. You could feel him everywhere and his kisses were more intense than ever. You mouthed and bit his shoulders with some newfound hunger.

"Perfect" He groaned against your cheek before gently biting you there.

Maybe it was because you were so in love with him, or the deep connection you two had, but you felt everything in a consuming way. You wanted to cry and grab into him to never let go, you wanted to give in and allow him to do whatever he wanted.

"more, need more" He panted. "Please, give me more" He begged. With those big brown eyes looking at you. You whimpered. But Pyotr was big and your legs felt like jelly.

Your fingers gripped his shoulder and the back of his head and the groan that escaped his lips was so delicious you had to kiss him. He could feel you needed some help, so he grabbed handfuls of your ass to help your moves (not that he complained).

You moaned loudly at the quicker pace. But for Pyotr, it wasn't enough. He grabbed you and a second later you were on the table. You gasped loudly and gripped his arm. "P"

"I have you" He said with a soft smile and slid back in you. Your eyes rolled back with the new angle and he chuckled. "You like it"

"I love it, I love you" You panted with big doe eyes. "Fuck"

Now Pyotr was in charge, now he could do as he pleased. But he was determined to make you enjoy and remember this for a long time. He pushed you back and you lay on the cold surface. You were a goddess, he was so sure of it now. He must have been a good man if the universe had sent you to him. While his hips moved slowly, very different from what he had begged for, his hand crawled its way up from your belly to the valley of your breast and then your neck. Your breath hitched for a second and you closed your eyes when he put some pressure in there. But then he kept moving and with a particularly hard thrust, Pyotr let his thumb slide in your mouth. You looked into his eyes as your lip wrapped around his finger. There were sweat beads on his forehead and chest. He was flustered and his hair was falling around his face. It was unreal. So you sucked his finger, you did just as you would suck him, swirling your tongue around and teasing with your lips. And Pyotr lost it.

A soft pop sounded when he pulled it from your mouth and it was followed by a moan when he started rubbing circles in your clit. Your legs shook around his waist and your hand flew to your breast. Laying on the table like that, Pyotr took mental notes of how you looked.

"Good? Feel good, yeah?"

"So good"

Now he was quicker. He was trying to reach all the pleasure you gave him. He was on cloud nine with you around him, his hands on your hips and your eyes on his. And he knew he wouldn't last much longer but he didn't care when you looked like you were fallen apart in a desperate need for more, more pleasure, more Pyotr.

That was exactly how you felt, with the climax right there, the pleasure so high but yet not enough.

Pyotr felt it, hard and like lightning, he came undone without warning. More vocal than ever, his hips thrust harder while you desperately scratched his abdomen. Don´t leave me like this, please. Your eyes said. But for a few seconds, he was blinded by the intense pleasure over his body. He barely heard your cries, "Please, please, please" You begged.

"Yes, yes" He said.

His legs thanked him when he knelt in front of you, they could barely keep him upwards after that. Not giving you enough time to process anything, he dived in between your legs.

You sat so you could see him. His eyes were closed and was simply giving you everything he had. It made your head spin. Vibrations were sent over you every time you ran your fingers through his hair. With all the passion he put in, he made you come with his mouth in only a couple of minutes, bringing you closer to the edge of the table and his face to get the last taste until it became unbearable.

Shaking and grabbing into him the best you could, you cried in pleasure until you had actual tears in your eyes. "Stop, stop" You said pushing him away.

Pyotr sat back on his heels and looked at you. You were shaking, he didn't know if it was cold or everything else. You had bite marks on your chest and shoulders, they would probably fade, but he was proud for now. Your chest was heaving slowly with deep breaths.

"I love you" He simply said as if he didn't look like a tornado had run over him. His hair was so messy and his skin so pink and sweaty.

You laughed in disbelief. "I love you too, P"

He grabbed your ankle and leaned closer to leave a warm and soft kiss on your leg. You caressed his cheek with bright eyes.

Then he tried to get up and groaned when all his muscles complained. You giggled.

"You try walk and I laugh then" He said pointing at you with irony in his voice. You laughed and flipped him off.

He threw the condom to the bin and then came to help you down the table, giving you a look when you huffed. "This is all your fault"

He frowned. "Fault?"

"You made this, Pyotr!" You exclaimed with fake annoyance.

"Oh yes, I did" He said chuckling, but then he pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. "You will be fine"

You kissed his chest and nodded. "Shower?" You suggested.

"Yes please" He giggled and reached to your hair. "You have cereal"

With that, you both started laughing, pure happiness floating in the room for being finally together. After waiting so long, he finally had the girl of his dreams.

War and Peace 50/198 -Leo Tolstoy

41 

At 5 AM the army was still immobilized on the right wing, the left would be the first to descend and attack, when on Austrian officer made his appearance order was set in motion but they didn’t know where they were going in the dark fog and smoke, though, wherever they went were in the same company. (this doesn’t seem smart to send the army to face the enemy in the dark and fog where they can’t even see ten feet in front of them) They could hardly see ten paces ahead but conscious of the Russian columns marching in the same direction. After an hour they halted so the calvary could cross and fill in the gaps, in that time the army grew impatient and was losing spirit. An hour later they descended into the valley blind, shots in the fog, by nine the sun was just rising above it. Napoleon and his troops were closer than expected and he could see the center of the Russian army was weak, on the anniversary of his coronation he gave the order to begin battle. 

42 

At 8 o'clock, Kutuzof greeted the men of the foremost regiment intending to lead the column in person, but he stopped in the village of Pratz while Andrei was anxious and believed this would be his bridge of Areola. There was firing in the valley, the infantry filed by Kutuzof halted, they can't open ranks in a village. (seems like you should have considered the geography of the location) He sent Andrei to the third division to give his orders and report on the skirmishes and come back to inform him the troops were ready to move. In the distance the regiments were cheering and ran along the line of Russian columns who they were greeting approached rapidly a squadron of gaily dressed horsemen escorted by the two emperors. Alexander asking why he doesn’t begin, he’s waiting for the columns to assemble, it displeased him. Kutuzof explained the reasons is they are not in parade nor on the emperor’s field, (this is a war not a parade for your entertainment) but he gives the order he turns to Division Commander Milarodovitch and orders to attack and the battalions of Novgared and Apsheran file forward. 

43 

The fog began to dissipate, a mile and a half could be seen, to the left of the valley the firing was growing more violent. As they could see the French closer than expected, the Apsheran when it was all covered in smoke, a voice called it was up to them and all started to run. (come back you cowards) It was impossible to stop the fugitives, Andrei was confused at what was happening at the front and saw Kutuzof was wounded. Kutuzof went riding after the fugitives but was torn away by another mob. Andrei forced his way to him, Kutuzof’s staff was only four left as he ordered to stop the cowards, billets buzzed over their heads, when the French saw Kutuzof they fired at him. Kutuzof fell wounded so Andrei took the flag staff and rushed forward, the battalion following into the firefight. Distracted by the other soldiers Andrei was struck on the head and fell only seeing the sky above him and noticed how calm it was. “How it is that I never before saw this lofty sky? And how glad I am that I have learned to know it at last! Yes! All is empty, all is deception, except these infinite heavens. Nothing, nothing at all besides! And even that is nothing but silence and peace! And glory to God!...”p.164 

44 

By five in the evening the battle was lost, a hundred canons captured Prschebiszewsky laid down arms, other columns halved were in retreat, the remains were crowded together in Augest. The French were trying to cut down the retreating Dokhturof and some others made a stand. Along the dike were throngs of men pushing along dying and dead. Dolokof was an officer again, his regimental commander, the sole survivors, a canon ball struck someone behind him and in front the crowd just pressed on but stopped, the ice wouldn’t hold them and wouldn’t move on Dolokhof’s orders. A feild piece tried but his leg broke through and he sank to his belt the horses forced on it broke the whole sheet and forty men trampled over each other all while canons fired overhead, 

45 

On the hill above Pratz Andrei laid still in pain wandering where he was, he heard hoof beats and French soldiers nearing, it was Napoleon and his two aides. Andrei immediately forgot the words spoken of him having an honorable death, his hero was insignificant compared to heaven. “He was merely conscious of a feeling of joy that people had come to him, of a desire for these people to give him assistance and bring him back to life, which now seemed to him so beautiful because he understood it so differently,”p.167 They notice him moving and Napoleon ordered him taken to the hospital. 

He passed out and came to again in the hospital as Napoleon came to inspect the prisoners. He questioned the chief officer, Colonel Prince Repnin, who identified Lieutenant Sukhtelen. Napoleon asked how Andrei was feeling but Andrei had no words, his hero was sordid in comparison with what he had learned. The insignificance of majesty, life and death, no one can explain. Napoleon left without an answer with orders to take care of them, Andrei’s medal was returned. He believes it all would be good if it were as simple as it seems to Maria, he would know where to find help in his life, what to expect after. Carried away he thought of his family, the battle, Napoleon, everything that happened bleeding into a fever dream as the physicians believed he wouldn’t recover, he along with other dying were turned over to the regional natives. (so Andrei had a near death experience and currently is in an existential crisis) 

46 

1806 Austria was forced to a separate peace by the end of 1805 Briton was active only in the sea the war, in 1806 assumes an armed truce. Politically the war continues, Britain with a blockade against the enemy neutrals, Napoleon forbidding trade, Prussia broke away and joined the coalition against France and declares war. Napoleon defeats Prussia in a month, occupies Berlin and moves against Russia. 

In the beginning of 1806 Nikolai Rostof went home on furlough and had Denisof come with him to Moscow. Rostof was cheerfully greeted by Mikhail and the hall boy Prokofi, others rushed out of their rooms until all crowded in the drawing room. His mother cried in his chest while his father introduced Denisof. 

The two slept until ten as everyone cleaned their things and brought comforts, awake Sonya ran away from Rostof as his sister Natasha talked to him. He asks why Sonya ran off, a long story for another time but she’ll tell it now as Rostof fell into his old world of childhood. She had him recall what happened before he left, if he agreed to marry her, now it would be like he was bound by his word under compulsion, and it wouldn’t do. (she loves Sonya and to prove it burned her arm with a ruler) Sonya was sixteen and still in love with him but with so many occupations before him he must remain free. The subject changes, Natasha is no longer interested in Boris since Duport the dancer, she won't marry and become a dancer. When Rostof saw Sonya again he didn’t know how to react around her but understood and quietly they thanked each other for love and freedom. 

47 

That year the old count had more money so Rostof decked out, seemed to have grown into a man separated from childhood, now a lieutenant of hussars. Instead of growing closer to Sonya he drifted away, a time when a young man prizes his freedom to do other things, there were others besides Sonya, he has time to fall in love later. The old count Rostof was busy giving dinner orders to prepare for the English Club in honor of Prince Bagration. He asked his son what he thought and sent him to Moscow to Bezukof’s for fresh fruit and gypsies to dance along with gypsy girls. (...sigh) Anna Mikhailovna says not to as she is going as you can get anything from Pierre’s green houses, and she wants to see him since Boris is on his staff. When asked of his new wife Anna’s face changed, he’s unhappy she pities him. Dolokhof, Marya Ivanovna’s son, compromised Helene after Pierre introduced them and brought him into his house and now he follows her. The old count extends the invitation to the club to him for a distraction. 

48 

March 15, two hundred and fifty English Club members and fifty guests came to meet Prince Bagration, the hero of the Austrian campaign. Before dinner Count Rostof presented his son, Pierre sat opposite of them and as usual drank too much but others noticed his change absorbed in some disagreeable problem it was Dolokhof’s intimacy with his wife and anonymous letters that the affair was a secret to him alone. Pierre refuses to heed both but it was terrible for him to see Dolokhof sitting opposite and something terrible rise in him. (Count Rostof had to know there were tensions between these two why’d he invite both is he that much of a ditz) Pierre saw it may be true but he cannot believe it, but he noticed the face Dolokhof wore often was now one of deviltry from his other acts. Pierre is afraid of him, he would think nothing of killing a man, so lost in his thoughts he didn’t rise with the others to toast. 

Rostof asks what’s the matter, he didn't recognize him and Dolokhof toasts to pretty women and their lovers, (oh now he’s just rubbing it in) Pierre didn’t say anything. When Dolokhof snatched a cantata from him the ugliness rising in Pierre broke. Everyone was alarmed at his outburst and he snatched it back and felt the hatred of his wife widen irrevocably. Rostof acted against Denisof’s advice and arranged a duel the next day at Sokohiki, but Dolokhof had thoughts on it, “if you get it into your head that you are going to be killed, then you are an idiot, and deserve to fall; but if you go with firm intention to kill him as quickly and certainly as you can, then you are all right,”p.180 

The next morning Pierre, Nesvitsky, Dolokhof, Denisof and Rostof met in the woods, Pierre had the air of a man unaware of what was before him. Two considerations his wife’s guilt and the innocence of Dolokhof who had no reason to guard a stranger's honor, maybe he would have done the same then is this duel homicide, can he get out of it. It was all set and Dolokhof confessed he doesn’t think this is a sufficient reason to duel but Pierre was in the wrong, Pierre agrees he was foolish. Nevitsky says he could apologies. “You know, count, that it is far more noble to acknowledge one’s fault than to carry on after to its irrevocable consequences.”p.181 Pierre will go through with the duel and had to figure out how to work the trigger. 

After Pierre fired he stood still as Dolokhof stepped forward but didn’t shoot and he fell in the snow, arm covered in blood and begs that he isn't done yet. He takes a mouthful of snow and staggers up aiming Pierre made himself an easy target, (is he suicidal) Dolokhof missed and laid back in the snow, Pierre ran off in the woods and Nevitsky took him home. On the way to Moscow Dolokhof roused himself and said his mother won't survive this and had Rostof break the news to her. Despite being a bully Dolokhof was an affectionate son to his mother and brother to his hunchback sister. 

49 

Pierre rarely saw his wife alone, the house was full of company, the night of the duel he stayed in the room his father died in, he couldn’t sleep, how did it come to killing his wife's paramour. “Because you married her without loving her; because you deceived yourself and her.”p.183 From the beginning he felt it was wrong, he thought he was proud of it all then thought he was to blame for not understanding her, now found the answer, she is a lewd woman. She allowed her brother to kiss her bare shoulder but laughed at him and told  Pierre that he’ll never get any children by her. (she’s a bitch) She’s to blame for it all, but at the back of it he married her, lied that he loved her, he is to blame and suffer but the disgrace of his name and honor is independent of him. 

He’ll leave for Petersburg, leaving a letter that he would leave her forever, but that morning Helene came to him in a fury about the duel. She demands answers then says he believes everything he is told, that Dolokhof was her lover without proof and what has he proved by the duel, that he’s a fool, that’s what everyone calls him and now she’s a laughingstock. He drunkenly challenged a man out of jealousy, a superior man to him in everything. (I take it back she’s not a bitch she’s a cunt) He tells her not to speak to him, she yells that she has a right to and tells him any woman with him as a husband would have lovers but not her. Pierre says that he’ll kill her and comes towards her with the marble table top she runs off and his father's nature manifested in him. By the end of the week Pierre signed over half of his property to Helene and left alone to Petersburg. 

50 

Two months after the battle of Austerlitz and Andrei was reported dead but his body not recovered, Kutuzof wrote that he was a worthy hero. Unusually his father’s response wasn’t one of wrath and he stayed in his study. When Maria came to see him his face wasn’t sorrowful but wrathful and she could sense the terrible misfortune, the death of one she loved. When told Andrei was dead she felt joy and forgot her fear of her father and hugged him begging for them to weep together, but he has her go inform Lisa. Maria wondered of her brother repented his unbelief and is in bliss. It took several times for Maria to try to break the news, she kept crying and decided not to tell Lisa and persuaded her father not to while she was pregnant. (I’m torn whether or not this was the right move you’re keeping the fact her husband could be dead a secret from her but also she’s in a very delicate state right now) The two hid their grief but the old Prince didn’t hope, while searching for his son he had a gravestone made and in a short time his health deteriorated rapidly while Maria hoped and prayed for Andrei’s return. 

NEXT

making it to the Nellis Air Force Base

One Touch - Part 2

Inspired by @dark-limbo​​. Might want to check this blog out!

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 Today is the day I’ll be free to do whatever I want without thinking about anything else. Mom had allowed me to rest out of town all by myself for a week. Dad had lend me allowance which I can spent on what I had planned for.

Upon arriving to a beach resort, which was like 5 hours away from my hometown, I was feeling a little nervous. Technically, this has been my first vacation alone, away from anyone I know. Having the ability to hypnotize anyone doesn’t come with less worry about what dangers there would be. I may be confident to get anyone I want, I’m still scared that I might get in trouble with things and I wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

Trying to loose up, I just took a deep breath and decided to look around the lobby.

Looking over to the seats to the right near the windows, I’ve noticed this guy staring at me. He looked away after realizing I’m staring back but I know we had eye contact. He had his chest muscles peaking through his shirt and I can’t make myself look away. This guy’s interesting. I’ll come back to him later. But for now, let me drop my things to my room.

After reaching my room on the third floor of the hotel, I had to quickly drop my things and lie down on the bed. To be honest, choosing somewhere far to test my powers is not that important, but I had to make sure I’ll be going somewhere nobody I know lives, and somewhere I can enjoy at the same time. This is just to save from all the trouble of failing and letting everyone I am acquainted with know that I can hypnotize anyone I want.

Lying down the bed, I took a rest for a while. I started thinking of all the possibilities I can do here. Meeting all the men I might find attractive, pulling them in, and finally making them do what I please. All these thoughts are already making me hard, but I might need to save this up for later.

After lying down for a few minutes, only to be more frustrated because of my hard on, I decided to go out for a while and explore the resort.

Just as soon as I walk out to the back of the hotel, there I saw him again, dipping down into the pool. As soon as he descend down, I noticed that he was staring at me once more.

As I stare back at him, I notice him smile and look away. That’s already a hint, or if ever that I’m assuming things, I can always fix things up. Nevertheless, I’m nervous but excited at the same time. My own fun is about to start!

I walked near him as he keep his shoulders under the water.

“Andrei” He said.

“Nice to meet you.” I replied.

“So, you alone?”

He’s already asking if I went here alone. That’s already a big assurance he’s hitting on me.

“Yeah.” I answered.

“I actually saw you come in the resort, and you seem like you’re that type who never had been on vacation without their parents. Is it your first time around here?”

“Damn, you’re great at guessing.” I smiled. “Yup. It’s my first time here. I might need a little bit of company.” I looked at him, hoping he would get me.

“I’m actually with a few friends.” He replied, sounding a little more solemn, “But it wont hurt if I could help you explore around for a few hours.”

His eyes sparked up and it felt like mine too as we stare at each other. I chuckled and squat down in order to be much closer to him. I don’t want to play these mind games anymore, I want to go straight to the point.

“Or we can explore each other in my room.” I teased.

I was expecting him to brighten up more, but it seems like my assumptions were wrong. He furrowed his brows and stared at me, but this time, his eyes were of a different gaze.

“Ah. Sorry man, I don’t swing that way.” His tone of voice changed, slightly sounding disgusted. “I... I just thought that you might’ve need some help since you seemed lost.”

I knew it would turn out this way. Getting fooled by the nice guys. Even my face somewhat contorted to dismay. “I- I’m sorry, man.”

“Sorry, but, just leave.” He began to get out of the pool. I don’t want to cause a fight right now, especially when I just started my vacation. I should act quick.

“No, I mean, sorry. I didn’t mean to. I can still use a bit of-”

“Dude, get out of the way!” He tried to move me away but before I could even back off, my hands found their way to his arms.

Here he was now, in trance of my touch. I fell his shoulders rise as he take a deep breath in, keeping eye contact with me. He wasn’t moving, just frozen in place. I look around to see if anyone is watching. Lucky enough, we’re alone.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No. I’m mad.” He answered. Monotonous, but you can hear how natural he speaks even under my control.

“No. You’re not mad. You’re happy.” I said.

“Oh. Yeah! I am happy!” He chuckled.

“You’re happy because you finally get to know me, you’ve been longing for me.” I whispered in his ear.

“I’ve been... wanting to know you...”

“Don’t speak a word. Dry off and change your clothes here. After that, follow me to my room.” I commanded.

It was a firm command. He didn’t speak at all. He proceeded to climb up the pool ladder and went to his things. He got his towel and his clothes to change into. He was under my control. He didn’t mind changing his clothes in public. He first took everything off, giving me a clear view of all of him from his muscular back. I want to touch him again right now, but I just let him change his clothes first. He wore his white tank top and his spare red short. Putting all of his things back into his bag, he hanged it over his shoulder and wore his flipflops.

I nodded and started walking back to my room. He followed.

Walking through the hallways was unintentionally nerve-wrecking. The fear that he might look like he’s in trace and other people might get weirded out, or that someone will call his name and since he’s under my command, he can’t talk, but luckily, we have arrived to my room.

I didn’t waste anymore time. I pushed him on the bed and started touching every skin I could. Exploring his whole body while he’s left frozen and unable to talk. I moved a hand to his crotch and gripped on his balls through his shorts. He wasn’t reacting whatsoever, but it took just one command.

“Match with me.”

With that, his hands moved up my back as I hear him give me soft but satisfied moans. I pushed my lips to his and forced my tongue in, which became much easier as he opened his mouth for me. My knee moved up the bed to his crotch as I massage him there with it. Both of my hands slowly took his tank top off, over his shoulders and off his head. He did the same, taking my shirt off. I pulled his face near my chest and he gladly sucked on my nipples.

“A-Ah...” The feeling was sending shivers all over my body. I want more than this. “Suck me off. Make me feel better.”

His hands moved down to my shorts as he try to pull it down. I stood up and let him take it off me. After finally exposing my raging hard on, I moved up the bed, with his legs in between mine, almost as if I can sit down on his lap. He continued kissing my chest, moving down to lick my abs, then finally to my cock. He proceeded putting all of my shaft into my mouth. He pull me closer as he lie down on the bed, my hands supporting myself on the bed while he’s under me, bobbing his head. I thrusted my hips slowly into his mouth. Everything feels so good. I can almost feel myself near my release. He flipped me over, now I am the only lying on the bed while he tries to get rid of his shorts. He pull my leg and aligned my hole to his shaft.

“No!” I exclaimed. “Not yet. I’m not ready.” I said. “I’ll be the one penetrating you.”

He smiled and dropped my legs down. He then moved to my cock, this time him aligning his hole to my shaft. He gave me a long painful grunt as he push himself down to my cock, then back up. I can’t endure seeing his face contort because of the amount of pain he’s having right now, but at the same time I find his hot.

He fell close to my chest, still my cock in his hole. We rolled over so this time I’m above him once more. He had put his arms around me as I thrust my hard on into him, slowly at first, but it wasn’t long until I quickened my pace. I muffled his moans as I pull him for one more kiss. My hand on his nipple while the other is stroking his cock that had been begging for attention.

I broke out kiss as I feel myself nearing climax “Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna!” I screamed. I thrusted much faster than before until I pull out and came all over his body, spewing all my hot juice all over his muscles. We were left panting on the bed. Andrei, though, still was hard as ever. I still have not managed to make him cum yet so I decided to move back down to suck him off.

Not being able to say words, he keeps moaning and moaning as I explore his cock with my tongue. Bobbing up and down while my tongue pushing on his skin made me realize this might be giving him a lot of pleasure. His hands moved to my hair as he push me more, violently.

Soon, he screamed as he came into my mouth. I gladly swallowed all of it. He came too much though that some of them leaked out of my lips.

I finally pulled his cock out and stared at him while we both pant. For one last time, I moved near him, kissed him and hugged him as we rest.

Later this afternoon, I might need to release him back to his own control, but right now, I’ll just enjoy the skinship while it lasts.

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

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Tiger - (The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley AU)

Warnings: is getting a pet a warning? 🤔🙈

Word count: 5,205

Characters: Charlie Weasley and my OC Nova from TICW which you can find here

Nova

“Mum, when is dad coming home?”

Aoede and I were sitting on our sofa, watching cartoons and eating cookies. An episode of Tom and Jerry just ended and Aoede noticed that Charlie wasn't home yet.

“In a few minutes, sweetheart.” I ran my fingers through her soft hair, getting another cookie from the bowl.

“Is he late?” Aoede posed another question.

“No. It's five minutes until 3 o'clock so he hasn't finished working yet.”

“I wish he didn't have to wolk that long.” Aoede sighed.

“Oh, sweetheart, me too. But he works every day until 5 or 6 so he is already coming early today because it's Friday.” I wiggled the bowl to switch Aoede's attention to cookies.

“Fliday and Sunday ale my favolite. You know why, mum?” Aoede turned to me before trying to stuff an entire cookie in her mouth.

“Why?” I giggled, watching the chocolate get smeared all over her face.

“On Fliday, daddy comes home earliel and we have a cuddle day and on Sunday we have pancakes fol blefcast.” Aoede clapped excitedly.

“Breakfast, Aoede.” I corrected her.

“Bleak...fast.” Aoede furrowed her brows trying to remember the word.

“There you go! Nice job!” I pulled her in a half hug.

She was sitting next to me because my belly was too big for her to sit in my lap.

“You know what,” I said after I took a bite of yet another cookie, “Fridays and Sundays are my favorite too.”

“Leally? Because of daddy being home and pancakes?” Aoede's eyes were sparkling.

“Because we all cuddle on the sofa and pancakes.” I sniggered.

“What about dad?” Aoede asked curiously.

“Meh.” I swung my hand, trying to sound uninterested.

“Mum,” Aoede gasped, “stop it! You love dad!”

“I do,” I giggled, “nothing gets past you, does it?”

“You tlied to tlick me!” Aoede fully turned to me and took my cookie. “No cookie fol you!”

“Hey, give that back, I'm eating for two!” I made puppy eyes at her.

“Those only wolk on dad, mum.” Aoede giggled and put my cookie in her mouth.

“You are too smart for a 3-year-old.” I playfully shook my head.

“I am just good at taking youl cookies,” Aoede said with her mouth full.

“Want to watch another episode or should we wait for dad?” I reached for the remote.

“Wait fol dad. I will talk to the baby now.” Aoede cleared her throat after finishing the cookie.

I still didn't like the fact that Charlie raised his voice at her the night Bill and Fleur came by. I wasn't used to it as my parents rarely had to do it with me and I have learned from them that most of the time just talking peacefully works wonders.

Before Aoede was even born, Charlie expressed his concern about how his mother always shouted at him and his siblings and that he doesn't want to be like her and made me swear that I would scold him if I ever notice he is turning into his mother.

He might not have shouted at Aoede like Molly used to shout at her boys, but it was evident that he has lost his temper with her and I wasn't okay with that. Especially, when Fleur told me that she was the same when her sister was born and later Bill trying to calm me down telling me that he and Charlie were the same when their younger siblings were born.

Charlie and Aoede worked it out the second Charlie and Bill came back inside and he apologized to me 3 times that night before we went to sleep.

Even though I forgave him the second he sat down and talked to our daughter I couldn't help but notice that by raising his voice Aoede started to warm up to the fact that she is getting a sibling.

The first thing she did, she asked me when the baby is coming. Then she asked Charlie if she can join him when he was singing to my belly. To say that we were both shocked by her sudden change of heart was an understatement but at the same time, we were over the roof about the fact that we could talk about the pregnancy in front of her without her glaring at us.

She usually played with her Unicorn plushie or did puzzles – which her grandpa Artie sent her the second we told him she finished the dinosaur one – when Charlie was either talking or singing to the baby. It was progress that she didn't mind, but last week she got curious and actually listened to what he was doing.

Two days ago, when Charlie was still at work, she stopped playing all of a sudden and walked to me, avoiding my eyes. I had never seen her so shy around me so I asked her what was going on. After a lot of mumbling to herself and fiddling with her fingers, she admitted that she would like to try and talk to the baby.

I did my best, hiding the fact that her action shocked me and made her sit next to me on the sofa so she could sit on my legs and talk to the baby. She only introduced herself before getting too shy and jumping off me to go back to her toys but it meant the world to me.

Charlie, of course, couldn't believe it when I told him and was hoping he would get to see it and since she wanted to do it again today, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that he will be able to witness this miracle sooner or later.

“Okay, whenever you are ready.” I smiled softly at her, gently stroking her hair.

“Hello.” She tapped on my belly so lightly that it tickled me. “Uhm, mum I don't know what to say.”

“Well, your dad usually tells the baby stories.” I encouraged her.

“Oh, I know plenty of those!” Aoede's eyes sparkled as they did every time she got an idea.

“Hi, baby!” She waved at my belly. “I love cookies. My uncle Geogie makes the best ones and I love when he comes and we make them togethel. I love the ones with chocolate the most! You will love uncle Geogie, he is so funny! But uncle Bill is my favolite. He has longel hail than dad and he lets me play with it. He isn't as funny as uncle Geogie but his stolies ale fun! He loves auntie Fleul. She is vely pletty and...”

Before Aoede could continue the front door unlocked and Charlie stepped inside.

“I'm home!” He sang.

“Daddy, shhh! I'm talking to the baby!” Aoede whispered with a finger in front of her mouth.

“You are what?” Charlie raised his eyebrows and locked eyes with mine.

“She's talking to the baby,” I whispered, trying not to giggle too much to disturb her.

Charlie was quick to put his jacket away so he could join us as he couldn't wait to be a part of this. He kissed Aoede's forehead and got a little groan in return for disturbing her. Then he gently pushed me upward so he could sit down and I positioned myself in his arms. He kissed the top of my head, listening to Aoede tell the baby all about her uncles and aunts and why she loves each of them.

“The last one is uncle Pelcy. I only saw him once. Daddy doesn't like him much I think...” Aoede gave her words some thought.

I looked up at Charlie who swallowed thickly, his eyes on our 3-year-old.

Percy came home for the first time about 2 months after the war. The reactions to his action varied. Arthur and Molly were just happy he was back. Ron, George, and Ginny didn't want to hear him out at all. Charlie and Bill were hesitant and asked him to give them some time to think everything through.

Because Charlie wanted Aoede to have all her uncles in her life, he invited Percy to stay with us at the end of last year. It was very awkward but I saw that Charlie tried to understand where Percy was coming from and even though their relationship is still a bit shaky, they exchange a few letters per month.

“I...ah, mum! Ah, what did I do?!” Aoede suddenly jumped in the air, her eyes widened in horror, looking at my belly.

“What happened?” Charlie got alarmed.

“Nothing,” I giggled, “the baby just kicked and Aoede felt it.”

“Oh.” Charlie sighed in relief, tightening his arms around me.

“The baby kicked?” Aoede tilted her head and slowly climbed back on my legs.

“Yes. That's what you felt.” I chuckled, finding her reaction amusing.

“I didn't hult you?” She was still in shock.

“No, sweetheart. You did the same when you were in my belly.” I gently grabbed her shoulder and pulled her toward me to give her a hug and calm her down.

“O-okay.” Aoede took a deep breath and buried her head in my shoulder.

“So, if I am not mistaken, it's cuddle day.” Charlie grinned at us, trying to make Aoede forget about the kick.

“Yes!” Aoede exclaimed and carefully climbed off me and jumped to the floor.

“Where are you going?” Charlie asked her as she started walking to the drawer where I had my art supplies.

“I want to look at mum's dlawings.” She explained as she pulled out one of my sketchbooks and walked back to us.

“I thought you'd want to watch cartoons.” Charlie teased her.

“No. Mum and I watched Tom and Jelly befole. I want to do this now.” She lifted her hands in the air for Charlie to help her back on the sofa.

“Do you want to watch a cartoon?” Charlie whispered in my ear.

“Sure.” I smiled at him and gave him the remote.

“Mum, look!” Aoede turned the sketchbook to me. “It's Blue but little!”

The sketchbook was opened on a drawing of a kneazle which I drew the year I came to Romania. Blue was Felix's kneazle and is now living with Andrei. Aoede loves to go there not only to play with the animal but also to spend time with Andrei who she calls her best friend.

The first time Andrei heard her say that he shed a tear and didn't understand what he did to deserve that title but gladly took it. Andrei is the one who first showed Aoede a picture of a unicorn and told her all sorts of stories about his interaction with the creature. Andrei is even better at telling stories than Charlie is so it's no surprise that unicorns are her favorite creatures.

“Yes, that's Blue when he was still a cub.” I thumbed through the book to find the other drawing of him. “See, that's him too.”

“Oh, so pletty. I love Blue, mum.” Aoede was admiring my drawing, her eyes sparkling.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” I watched her trace her little finger over the lines of Blue's ears.

“Mum, can we get a kneazle?” Aoede said more to herself than to me.

“You think you are old enough to take care of a kneazle?” I raised my eyebrows at her.

“Yes! My best fliend showed me how to feed Blue and how to make Blue's ful look pletty and shiny!” Aoede closed the sketchbook, her eyes locking with mine.

“Hmm,” I tapped my chin with my finger, giving the idea some thought. “I love your idea.”

I grinned at her, making her eyes even bigger and if it would be possible sparks would fly out of them.

“But we have to ask dad first.” I pressed my lips together knowing this is going to be very amusing to watch.

“Dad, dad! Mum and I want a kneazle!” Aoede was shaking from excitement.

“What now?” Charlie mumbled, his eyes still on the telly.

“A kneazle, dad! Oh, can we? Please!”

“What about a kneazle, Pumpkin?” Charlie asked absentmindedly.

“We want one!” Aoede started to look annoyed because Charlie still didn't look at her.

“Wait what?” Charlie turned down the volume and looked at his daughter.

“We want a kneazle, dad! We want a kneazle!” Aoede bounced on my legs.

“We?” Charlie cocked an eyebrow, his gaze switching from Aoede to me.

“I said she has to ask you first.” I winked at him.

“Why me? Why do I have to decide?” Charlie narrowed his eyes at me.

“You're the man of the house, aren't you?” I sniggered.

“Right.” Charlie nodded his head, still a bit confused about how we are suddenly discussing having a pet. “Well, what did you say?” He whispered to me.

“I said that I love her idea,” I replied.

“You did?” Charlie tilted his head. “You think she's ready to have a pet?”

“I am!” Aoede crossed her arms on her chest.

“Love, we are 14 days from your due date, we'll be busy with the baby. How are you planning to take care of a kneazle too?”

“You are making some good points, Charles.” I nodded. “However, I think Aoede has enough experience because of Blue to take care of one.”

“She's 3!” Charlie exclaimed.

“So that's a no?” I pouted. “I think that's a no, Aoede.”

“Why!” Aoede whined.

“Wait, how do you think this is a good idea?” Charlie ignored our daughter.

“Well, you know I wanted to get a pet ever since we moved to Romania but then we didn't have the time and now we have a house and you know we will always find an excuse and honestly since we both love animals so much, it's a miracle we don't have a zoo already.”

“Okay, true, but you know that Aoede is too young to take care of it alone and I will be at work so you will have to feed it and everything.” Charlie sighed.

“I am aware of that, Char. But it would also be a good opportunity to teach Aoede to be responsible and I can handle a toddler, a baby, and a kneazle.”

“Daddy, please!” Aoede looked at Charlie with the biggest puppy eyes I have ever seen. “I will help mummy, I plomise. I will feed it evely molning and evely night and I will tlain him to poop and I will give him lots of cuddles!”

“Yeah, there's no doubt about the last one.” Charlie tried not to look at Aoede because he knew he won't be able to resist her looking at him like that.

“Admit it, you want it too.” I nudged him, whispering.

“Of course, I want it.” Charlie ran his hand across his face, still not fully convinced.

“So we ale getting a kneazle?” Aoede gasped.

“Oh, I don't know.” Charlie gave it some thought.

“Please!” Aoede and I said in unison, making puppy eyes at Charlie.

“I swear if our second born has your eyes, you three will be the death of me.” Charlie sighed in defeat.

“I think that's a yes, Aoede.” I giggled and high-fived her.

“Yes!” Aoede thrust her hands in the air, carefully climbed off me, and started dancing around the living room.

“I can't believe I was the one who needed convincing for us to have a pet,” Charlie whispered after a few moments of us giggling and watching out daughter celebrate.

“I know it's kind of an impulsive and an irresponsible decision but I know we can do it and I believe Aoede will take care of it. She loves to help Andrei with Blue and honestly, he has taught her a lot about kneazles.” I defended my decision.

“That's true, she is pretty responsible for her age and I guess it would be a good distraction for her from the baby in case she ought to change her mind.” Charlie scratched the stubble below his chin.

“I mean we kind of owe her for having another baby.” I chuckled.

“Oh, great. So what are we getting her when we're having our third child?” Charlie raised his eyebrows at me, looking amused.

“Let this one be born first, will you?” I laughed.

“I can't wait.” He kissed me first on the nose, then on the lips.

“So, are you really okay with it?” I asked.

“Yeah, why not.” Charlie shrugged. “You tamed a chimera which is supposed to be untamable, how hard can having a kneazle be?”

“I guess we'll find out soon.” I nodded my head at Aoede who was still running around the room shouting that we are getting a kneazle.

Charlie

The morning after we decided to get a kneazle, we visited Andrei to see if he knows anyone who breeds them. Even though my girls convinced me to get one, I still wasn't sure it was a good idea. It wasn't that I didn't want one – in that regard, I thought it was a good idea too – but I was worried for Nova and how she'll be able to handle everything while I'm at work.

The second pregnancy has been draining her and I have no idea how she will be after she gives birth and Aoede is getting more energetic each day and even though I will help her as much as I possibly can, I will have to go to work too and I don't want Nova to be exhausted for the next year because we decided to get a pet.

When we woke up in the morning I told Nova that I will ask Andrei if he thinks it's a good idea and if he reckons we can take care of one with having a baby on the way.

We walked to the Sanctuary – well Aoede ran most of the way because she was too excited – and knocked on Andrei's door when we reached his cottage.

“Aoede! What a pleasant surprise!” Andrei grinned when he saw our little one.

He picked her up and twirled her in the air.

“Andy, Andy, we are getting a kneazle!” Aoede told him the news the second he put her down.

“You are?” He bestowed her with a grin before turning to us. “That's sudden.”

“Yes, very,” I spoke first.

“Charlie thinks it's a bad idea with the baby on the way.” Nova followed.

“I think your timing couldn't be more perfect,” Andrei said casually.

“Really?” Nova and I said together.

“Kneazles are the best pets to the people they can trust and they tend to trust children more. Aoede is great with Blue, he simply adores her meaning she is trustworthy. If a kneazle trusts the whole family then they are better behaved than most cats. All you'll have to do is feed it, comb its fur around 3 times per week and play with it, which I think won't be a problem.” Andrei nodded his head to where Aoede was sitting on the floor, playing with Blue.

“So they aren't too high maintenance?” Charlie wanted to know.

“Not at all. They are a much better first-time pet than crups. They learn faster because they are highly intelligent and they don't have as much energy as crups so they mostly like to cuddle with you.” Andrei continued with a smile on his face.

He then asked us how we came to the idea and Nova explained how Aoede saw Blue in my sketchbook and made him laugh when she told him how they convinced me to get one.

“Why were you against it, Charles? You and Nova have been discussing getting a pet since you moved here.” Andrei teased him.

“That's what I said!” Nova chuckled.

“Well, I was just hesitant with the new baby and I won't be home all the time to help around the house and...” I sighed. “I guess I just got worried.”

“Understandable,” Andrei nodded, “you know you'll get some time off when the baby arrives and in case your kneazle will be too much to handle you can always bring it here.”

“Thank you, Andrei.” His words calmed me down.

“Do you know anyone who breeds them or where we could get one?” I wanted to know.

“Mary would be your best call. She lives in the same village you do and Felix got Blue from her.” Andrei answered my question.

“Wait, you mean Mary Hucklewood? The one that has the drug store?” Nova got excited.

“The very same!” Andrei smiled.

“Oh, that's going to be easy, Char! She's a really sweet lady. I had no idea she's a kneazle breeder.”

“Yeah! Her kneazles won some amazing awards on shows and such. I am sure she'll be able to tell you more!” Andrei looked towards where Aoede was still playing with Blue.

“Did you hear, Pumpkin? We know where to get a kneazle.” I kneeled next to her and rubbed Blue's belly.

“Leally? Can we go now?” Aoede gasped.

“We can't just leave Andrei after being here for 10 minutes.” Nova giggled.

“I would love to come with you if you'll have me. I have to buy some groceries anyway and I haven't seen Mary for a long time.” Andrei said, winking at Aoede.

“See! We can go now! We can go now!” Aoede was jumping up and down.

Without saying another word, we walked to the door and headed back to the village.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Nova as we were walking hand in hand, Andrei, and Aoede right in front of us.

“The walk is doing me good. My feet hurt but I had to move from that sofa eventually.” She said softly. “Not 14 days before your due date.” I tried hiding the concern in my voice. “And I'll massage your feet the second we get home.”

“Thank you, Char.” Nova smiled appreciatively at me before turning to see what made Aoede squeak.

“Mummy, daddy, we're here!” She pointed at the house on our left, hardly containing her excitement.

“Now, Aoede, even if Mary has a kneazle for us to adopt, it doesn't mean we will get it today, okay?” I kneeled next to her.

“I know, dad.” Aoede sighed disappointedly but I knew she understood the situation.

“Go ahead, then. Knock on the door.” Nova nudged her so she got closer.

Aoede took a deep breath and knocked on the door so gently that I was sure the lady inside the house won't be able to hear her.

It was amusing to see Aoede nervous but in a way admiring to watch her in this state because she showed me that despite being so young, this means a lot to her.

“I think we should let Aoede do all the talking so that we see if she is really ready for this,” I whispered to my wife.

“Okay, she seems a bit nervous.” Nova giggled.

“Yeah, she's adorable.” I followed her lead, waiting for someone to get the door.

“Maybe you should knock again, Pumpkin.” I encouraged our daughter when she started to turn around to look at us.

She did as she was told, her knock more determined this time.

“I'm coming, I'm coming! Pretzel, dear, move to the side so I can open the door.” We heard the voice in the house say.

The door creaked opened and a lady in her fifties was standing in the doorway.

“Andrei, Nova! What a pleasant surprise!” The woman grinned at them.

To me, the woman seemed familiar but Nova usually paid more attention to people than I did because she reckoned that we should know the people who live around us in case there would be any spies – that was back when we were at war.

“Hi, Mary! Long time no see!” Andrei waved at the woman.

“And you must be Nova's husband Charlie and I bet this little cutie is Aoede.” She locked eyes with me and smiled before bending down to shake Aoede's hand.

“That is me!” Aoede beamed. “Maly, this is my best fliend Andy and my mummy and daddy and we ale hele because you gave Blue to Andy and mummy and I want a kneazle. See, daddy isn't sule but he said that we can have one if we will take cale of it and I plomise, I plomise Maly that I will take the best cale of my kneazle. Blue leally likes me!”

Nova and I chuckled at Aoede's enthusiasm, Mary however looked surprised.

“You sure know how to make a good first impression, Aoede,” Mary said after waiting for a moment longer if Aoede is done talking.

“And all that she said is true, she is amazing with Blue and he adores her.” Andrei supported Aoede's statement.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that.” Mary nodded toward Aoede who was petting one of Mary's kneazles. “Pretzel doesn't trust a lot of people and he has certainly never let anyone touch him the first time he meets them, so your daughter is really good with animals.”

I blinked a few times before exchanging a look with Nova – getting all teary-eyed and proud of my daughter. From the looks of it, Nova wasn't doing any better, as she sniffed and couldn't stop smiling.

“Unfortunately, you would have to wait until the next year. I have given away the good kneazles from my last litter a few weeks ago so I am afraid you are too late.” Mary bowed her head, sadly. “Kneazles breed only once per year, if they do, so it's hard to say.”

“Oh,” Aoede tried her hardest not to sound disappointed even though I could see her eyes filling with tears.

“What did you mean with the good kneazles?” I asked.

“The ones that are suitable for shows and further breeding,” Mary explained.

“We would have it as a pet and we are not looking to breed kneazles.” Nova's voice turned cheerful.

“Well,” Mary put her hands on her hips, “there is one then. I was planning to keep him for myself but if he'd like you I would gladly give him to you.”

She invited us inside and we followed her upstairs.

“What's wrong with him?” Nova wanted to know.

“He is completely healthy and loves to eat,” Mary laughed, “but there was an accident when the litter was a few weeks old.”

“What happened?” Aoede got curious.

“He was trying to make friends with my Venomous Tentacula.”

Mary opened the door and motioned with her hand that we should come inside.

“Hi, sweetness, I brought you some company,” Mary said in a baby voice.

The room was full of kneazle equipment and the kneazle Mary addressed was the only one inside. He was orange with brown spots and the only thing I could see being wrong with him was the tipped left ear.

Andrei, Nova, and I stood in the doorway while Nova encouraged Aoede to enter the room. She made a cautious step toward Mary, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Go on, he's friendly.” Mary smiled at Aoede.

Aoede took a deep breath and sat down. Nova's eyebrows raised, while Andrei and I exchanged a look.

Aoede didn't move nor called the kneazle, she waited patiently for him to come to her. Since kneazles are big on trust this was a smart move and it blew me away that my three-year-old knew what to do.

The kneazle tilted its head to the side and observed Aoede as if she was the only one in the room. He looked very playful and after a few moments approached Aoede carefully. He sat down right in front of her and tilted his head again.

I have never seen my daughter sit so still. She was always running around or talking to us or drawing on my arm or making ponytails on my head or painting my nails. The only time she didn't move was when she was sleeping and even then we sometimes found her on the other side of the bed compared to where she fell asleep.

I can't find the words to express how proud I was of her at that moment and I felt like crying and hugging her and telling her that she's the best but I had to be patient like she was with the kneazle and do that later. If nothing else her behavior proved to me that she was ready to have a pet.

The kneazle took another step forward and extended his paw toward Aoede. She carefully moved her right arm and placed her hand over his paw. The creature purred and jumped in Aoede's arms.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Mary clapped excitedly.

Andrei looked almost as proud as I did and I caught myself observing the scene with my mouth open.

“Yeah...wonderful.” I turned to Nova who was sobbing and brushing away her tears.

“Oh, you ale so pletty! Look at youl ful and colols and oh,” Aoede gasped, “look at youl eal!”

“That's Tentacula's work.” Mary shook her head.

“He is pelfect!” Aoede turned around to see our reaction.

“I think he likes you, Pumpkin.” I sent her a wink.

“Mhm,” Nova mumbled, looking ever so proud.

“He's all yours, Aoede.” Mary walked to her and put her hand on her shoulder.

“I have to ask mummy and daddy filst.” Aoede gently hugged the kneazle and placed him on the ground so she could stand up.

“Can we have him, dad?” Aoede stopped in front of me, looking up and waiting for my answer.

I turned my head to Nova to see what she has to say about it. She nodded her head slightly and I bent down to our daughter.

“We can have him.”

“What is his name?” Aoede asked all of a sudden as if she has just remembered she doesn't know his name yet.

“I didn't name him for some reason. I just kept calling him sweetness, so the honor is all yours.” Mary smiled at her.

“Oh!” Aoede's eyes sparkled as she was thinking of the name. “Tigel!”

“Tiger?” Nova, Andrei, and I said at the same time.

“Tigel,” Aoede repeated.

“You're going to name a creature after another creature?” I raised my eyebrow.

“You're the one to talk!” Nova laughed. “Have you forgotten that you named an abraxan at my aunt's Dragon?” She nudged me with her elbow.

“Touché. I completely forgot about that.” I felt the heat on my cheeks as I scratched the back of my head.

—

“Another thing she has after you.” Nova giggled.

“And what's that?” I put my arm around her waist as we walked toward our house.

Andrei was helping Aoede carry Tiger and all the supplies Mary gave us for him.

“She is as bad at naming creatures as you are.” Nova pressed more into me, while I just playfully rolled my eyes.

I didn't care what she named him. Aoede had many moments so far that made me a proud father but her interaction with the kneazle beat all of those moments' arses by far and even though she probably got her intuition for animals from Nova, I was happy that she got the creature-naming after me – even though, I had to agree, not the best trait to inherit.

Hunter meeting Hunter

A Xaviera Lah-Mo and Andrei Kulokova Story Chapter 7

Authors Note: Again writing for my favorite couple that makes my heart spark with intense emotions. This chapter simply made me cry while writing it. Plus, I listened to certain songs that fuelled the emotions. I won’t give anymore details. ENJOY!

Warnings: You will possible cry.

Words: 2.9k

Xaviera Lah-Mo belongs to me

Andrei Kulokova belongs to @the-slasher-files​

Chapter 1 HERE

Chapter 2 HERE

Chapter 3 HERE

Chapter 4 HERE

Chapter 5 HERE

Chapter 6 HERE

The morning sun peaked through the windows of the cabin, ice blue eyes opening and looking outside, seeing that it was daytime. Xaviera woke up, her small form still in Andrei's arms. Slowly, she looked up, her lips pulled into a smile at how peaceful he looked when he was sleeping. It was a sight she cherished.

Carefully, she moved from his arms, walking to the kitchen to make some tea. After it was done, she filled two cups, one for her and one for the Russian for when he will wake up. She took her mug and stealthy, she walked outside the cabin on the front porch, her bare feet meeting the cold hardwood, but she never was bothered by the harsh coldness. Her eyes looked over the scenario, such a simple life, just nature and what it has to offer. She closed her eyes and basked into the soft cold breeze of the morning.

She was still in Andrei's black long sleeve and just her underwear. The way the wind was biting her skin made her feel like a cat basking into the sun. It felt right.

Through the cold, she felt heat coming from behind her, and one strong arm wrapped around her waist, her lips involuntarily pulled into a smile.

"Baby, it's cold out here, you should come inside..." he whispered, his voice still rough and harsh from just waking up.

She felt his lips press against her crown.

"I don't want my little kitten freezing her tail off." he told her, her heart instantly awake in a full-on beat and she forgot that the temperature outside was almost to freezing if not below.

The way he spoke to her, she never felt so cared for and protected, by a man who could easily kill, a beast that could rip someone's heart like it's nothing. She felt special.

She felt her cheeks heat up and she moved closer to his body.

"Mmmm.... I just love the cold breeze in the morning. Freshen's me up." she replied, taking one of his hands and kissing his knuckles.

"How did you slept, Wolfy?" she asked, looking over her shoulder up at him.

Andrei smirks down at her, pulling her as close as he can, savoring these moments. At her question, he moves his head back and forth, cracking his neck.

"Couches aren't good for necks..." he laughs.

"But you somehow always manage to make me oversleep, so it wasn't too bad." he says, leaning down and kissing her slowly. She kissed back, cherishing every second of his lips against hers like they were made for each other. He pulled away, looking her over.

"How about you, little snow leopard?" he asked and she giggled at his nickname for her, a grin on her face, ice blue eyes sparkling with adoration; the fire inside her ribcage sparking every time.

"Mmm me? Well.... I slept like a baby in your arms... You kept me so warm." she answered, turning around and nuzzling her nose into his neck.

She loved to be close to him; his scent, his power, his caring nature although camouflaged by a brutal and sharp exterior. She never felt so content with someone. They stayed like that, until...

"Well, I have a long hike out of here so... I, uh.... I better start to pack." he broke the silence, pulling away coldly.

Xaviera felt a bitter taste forming in the back of her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down, masking it with an understanding nod as he entered back the cottage. She sipped on her tea, looking at the snow-coated wildness surrounding them.

Of course, all good moments have to end at some point. She sighed, finishing her tea and marching back inside to pack her own things. She was setting her maps neatly when she heard a loud bang coming from upstairs and some Russian curses following.

The white-haired woman gulped down, feeling her chest constrict, but she pushed the feeling away roughly. She knew how combusting the Russian was and at the moment she felt too vulnerable. Her eyes widened when Andrei came downstairs, throwing his bags loudly at the door. He walked over to her, holding her hip and stroking her hair.

Xaviera's breath hitched at his touch but she quickly relaxed, loving the close intimacy. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes.

"Thank you... for everything." she whispered, resting her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Closing her eyes, she leaned in, pressing her lips gently against his own. He closed his eyes, kissing her back as if it was the last kiss he could ever give, deepening it as his hand ran through her white hair and their tongues danced together. She gasped, kissing him back, her hands fisting his shirt, afraid that if she let go, he will vanish.

He pulled away after a few minutes, resting his forehead against hers, stroking her cheek.

"No... thank you, Xaviera." he whispered, not letting her go and staring into her eyes and she found herself lost in them; eyes that have seen so many horrors, eyes that held danger, but also protection.

"Wil-... could you ever..." he started to say, something inside the woman wanting to claw out, like an excited animal.

He inhaled deeply, shaking his head slightly, pulling away, and smiling.

"Nevermind... my shirt looks good on you, baby girl." he smirked, his cocky demeanor back in place and the feline inside her stopped her excited jumping.

"Oh.... Oh! Y-Yeah...Ummm... D-Do you want it back?" she quickly asked, shuttering over her words and feelings her cheeks heat up.

She was dreaming way too much. Of course, this was just an adventure and nothing more.

'He won't propose to you, idiot! Stop dreaming, little girl!' she told herself.

Andrei smiled down at her, running his hands on her arms.

"No, no... you keep it... it's warm." then his eyes averted to the tooth wolf hanging around her neck and the bitemark that was going to leave a permanent scar.

"Now you have three gifts from me, myshka." his whispered, his large inked hand cupping her jaw and placing the thumb gently around the healing black eye she had gotten from the now dead man.

"It's the least I could give you."

His words only fuelled the fire that was growing inside her, inside her heart, a fire that wanted to get out and let loose, words that wanted to leave her lips but she was tongued tied.

She wanted so badly to stay with him, but the prospect of him laughing at such a silly request made her think twice; she didn't want to make a fool out of herself.

"Thanks for saving me...." 

Her eyes looked intently into his.

"Thank you Xaviera.... You're so beautiful... so strong... don't let anyone tame you, kitten."

The fire inside her was ready to combust, almost desperately so. His words made her feel like a little girl; so vulnerable and ready to break.... so unlike her.

'Just go with him, if that's what you want.'

'No! Don't ask him that! He will think you are stupid, clingy, and desperate.'

It was an internal battle. She didn't want to embarrass herself and make the situation horrible.

"T-Thank you for these words, Wolfy. I will sure remember them for the rest of my life." she whispered, pressing her lips against the wolf's tooth in her hand, then leaning her forehead against his chest, saving as many seconds with him as possible.

He held her close, savoring the moment as much as her, then he pulled away, cupping her jaw.

"Thank you." he whispered and kissed her lips.

She closed her eyes, basking into the kiss, their last kiss.

"Goodbye Xaviera." the soft blues turned cold as he let her go and turned away, pulling on his jacket and vest, grabbing his bag, he turned towards her one last time, flashing his typical smirk.

"Goodbye beautiful." with that the wolf walked out into the snow, with each step disappearing in the distance, leaving the snow leopard standing on the front porch, her eyes trying to remember each detail that made the man that just left.

They departed, just like two animals that mated and basked in each other's affection, taking different paths to their own lives as the mating season ended.

When a cold breeze hit her bare legs that's when she was cold and quickly moved back inside, continuing to pack her things, the bitter feeling inside her throat persisting and before she knew it a tear fell down on her compass.

She blinked. She was crying.

The woman wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to get rid of the signs of her sorrow; she was alone, again.

She didn't mind being alone, but now? After everything that happened, the loneliness seemed like a venomous bite of a snake, the venom slowly flowing her bloodstream until it got to her heart.

Right now, Xaviera would rather freeze to death, fight a Grizzly than have to under this bitter feeling. She hated the horrible taste it gave her.

She huffed, closing her eyes and trying to push everything in the back of her mind, starting to gather her stuff faster so she doesn't have to stay here longer because every corner reminded her of these amazing days she spent with the Russian; amazing days that came to an end.

Walking upstairs to the bedroom to get her last things, her gaze stopped on the bed, tangled bedsheets with so many memories, memories that she will never be able to forget.

She quickly dressed and got her things, walking downstairs she put her winter jacket on and her fluffy winter boots, strapping her sniper rifle on her back along with her big backpack, she opened the door to the cabin. Looking over her shoulder one last time, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from crying more. She couldn't be vulnerable now, not when she was alone.

The freezing weather never bothered her, but now she was cold, on the inside as she marched through the snow, following the destination to the closest village, a plane would be there to take her home. Her mission was over.

After three hours of walking, she finally reached her destination, getting on the plane. She made herself comfortable and her eyes drifted out the window, seeing the snowy mountains. She bites her lower lip, feeling like she was leaving her wild heart here.

The only thing that she gathered were blissful memories that felt more like a very lucid dream. She closed her eyes, letting sleep take over her, her small hand clenching the wolf tooth around her neck.

After 10 months.......

The African sun was as cruel as the freezing wind of Himalaya, but the white-haired zoologist was used to both harsh environments, like an animal adapting its body temperature to the one outside.

Xaviera had spent the last 10 months traveling, anywhere from Asia to America to Africa, anything to occupy her mind. She did was she always did best; studying, doing research, killing poachers, enjoying the free wildlife, but something always missed.

She knew what it was missing or better said, who was missing. She tried to forget after getting back home to America, but she couldn't. She always woke up from frightful nightmares, hoping for a certain someone to held her in their arms, but all she saw was an empty side of the bed; cold and empty.

Endless nights of no sleep, clutching the pillow in her arms, hoping that she wouldn't have nightmares.

She tried to remember what some of her female colleagues in college said about relationships.

'Oh, honey..... You will forget your first at some point. No reason to cry over a dick.'

Xaviera wished to shot her past colleague in the head for these words because she simply couldn't forget. Everything reminded her of him; the wildness, the danger that lurked there, the power that the forest and wildlife held.

She was currently in Africa, laying down on the front porch of a cottage of an elderly couple that invited her to stay over for her researches here. It was afternoon and her day off to relax after two weeks of non-stop work. She was looking at the sky, listening to the music nature offered her.

She was like feline basking into the setting sun, her fingers playing with a piece of her long white hair, millions of thoughts running through her mind.

'When you get older, your wild heart will live for younger days, think of me if ever you're afraid.' That's what her father used to tell her and she really wondered what her father would do now.

He always knew how to solve problems, always knew what to do. She missed him so much.....missed him as much as she missed.....

She closed her eyes, trying to forget his name, to push everything back. Opening old wounds was much more painful than creating new ones.

The words of one of her zoology colleagues hit her mind.

'Ughhhh girl..... Try to find someone else. Start anew.'

The thought of someone else touching her? That simply repulsed Xaviera. She rather fights a lion than let a different man touch her. NO WAY.

Xaviera never understood back in college why some girls were crying over their break-ups, but now she knew.

"My child... You seem to plagued by some sorrowful thoughts." an elderly feminine voice broke her thoughts, blue eyes looking at the old woman as she brought Xaviera a bowl of fruits.

"I don't know... How do you know where home is when you travel all over the world?" Xaviera asked, looking at the sunset, her hand subconsciously played with the wolf tooth around her neck.

The elderly woman's eyes averted from Xaviera to the necklace she was playing with.

"That's a wolf tooth.... It represents wild symbols, dignity, and perseverance, courage, and strength." the woman began to speak and that piqued Xaviera's interest.

"The Wolf symbol will give you clarity, wisdom, and self-confidence." the words hit Xaviera straight in the heart. 

Her heart was like an Eagle, always ready to take flight and reach higher limits.

Just like a coincidence, in the distance, an African fish eagle flew across the sky, take the position on a tree close to the cottage, ice blue eyes looking at the majestic bird.

'These ones aren't supposed to be in this part of Africa.' Xaviera thought with furrowed brows.

"You know, my child... When an eagle appears, you are on notice to be courageous and stretch your limits. Do not accept the status quo, but rather reach higher and become more than you believe you are capable of. Look at things from a new, higher perspective, be patient with the present; know that the future holds possibilities that you may not yet be able to see. You are about to take a flight." the woman spoke, a smile forming on her wrinkled face as she gazed at the eagle.

Each word made Xaviera be more and more confused, not because she didn't understand what the old woman meant, but rather because the snow leopard didn't know what to do. Take flight where?

"What should I do?" the young woman asked, and the old lady just smiled her way.

"Follow your heart." That was all the old woman said before she went inside, taking a glance as the eagle took flight.

'Follow my heart?' Xaviera thought, laying back down and glancing at the African sunset, closing her eyes and imaging certain rough fingertips brushing her thigh, where the grizzly scars were.

She remembers when she was a child and watched the African sunset with her father.

'One day you'll leave this world behind. So, live a life you will remember.' her father told her, remembering his smile, his heart as wild as hers.

Her eyes opened as she heard a growl in the distance, ice-blue eyes meeting light yellow with black spots, the leopards gaze on her, a female one.

Xaviera hasn't seen one for so long, it was different from the snow ones, with shorter fur. The female feline turned her gaze as a deeper growl resounded, a male leopard stalking towards her side, licking her fur in an affectionate way.

The leopard couple turned their backs to the young white-haired woman, stalking together at the sunset, the scenario making Xaviera's heart itch for something, a certain someone.

Her eyes drift up, seeing the eagle fly above the cottage.

'Go venture far beyond the shores, don't forsake this life of yours. I'll guide you home no matter where you are.' her father's words echoed deep inside her mind, the eagle's gaze meeting hers.

She swallowed down, her heartbeat getting stronger.

'Just follow your heart, child.'

She missed a certain coldness, a familiar coldness that kept her warm from the inside.

'The fire you have is strong...don't ever let anyone take that from you.' These words, his words. It made her want to spread her wings and take flight..... where her heart tells her to go.

She took a white star apple, taking a bite, savoring the ripe and sweet flavor, closing her eyes.

She knew where her heart was telling her to go.

She needed to catch a plane to a certain location... Somewhere she's never been before.

A smile crossed her lips; a smile that hasn't crossed her face since 10 months.

Plenty of Time feat. Andrei Svechnikov

Smut under the line :)

He slipped into the bathroom and leaned against the door jam, crossing his arms as he watched me through the mirror. I turned the blow dryer off and set it on the counter before meeting his eyes. 

“Can I help you?” He shook his head and smiled. “What?” 

“You look beautiful.” 

“Andrei-” He stepped forward and ran a hand down my side before wrapping an arm around me. Fingers trailed over the edge of my robe before finding the knot keeping it cinched around my waist and tugging gently. It fell open and he dropped his head down, humming against my skin. “Honey, c’mon. We have to leave in thirty minutes.”

“We’ve got plenty of time.” 

“You’re not even dressed yet.” He ignored my weak excuse and traced a circle around my belly button, zigzagging lower and lower until he came to rest just above my heat. 

“Should I stop?” I spat out a no after haphazard contemplation and he grinned, spinning me around until my ass came to rest on the counter. My robe hung off of my shoulders and I slipped it off, watching him as I tossed it on the floor. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he reached for me and I savored the long moment before his touch. 

Every single time felt like the first, from the look in his eyes to the frantic, wanton energy behind his kiss. Two years in and each intimate moment with him felt brand new. 

And this time was no different. He touched me gently, almost like he was exploring uncharted territory, trying to memorize the curves of my body. I leaned back and watched him as anticipation built between us. Palpable tension bubbled up and I lifted myself onto the counter, settling on the very edge and spreading my legs. 

He let out a soft gasp and stepped forward, his pelvis flush against mine. I let him lift my chin until our eyes met, his deep and blue and laser-focused. I could feel him hard, pressed into my thigh as he kissed me. His heartbeat sped up under my fingertips and time seemed to slow down. I could feel the vibration of his groan and need washed over me like a tsunami. 

We parted just long enough for him to take his shirt off, dropping it on top of my bathrobe while I worked on his sweats. The waistband proved easy work and I slipped them down enough to wrap my hand around his cock. He grabbed my ass and pulled me forward until I could run his head over my folds. 

The contract was electrifying and I jerked in his arms, arching back until my head hit the mirror. He moved to stop but I kicked my leg up over his hip, hooking it around his back to pull him closer. His skin was salty on my tongue as I ran it over his collar bone, sucking gently on the sensitive spot I knew sat just below his jawline. The familiar pleasure-pain of his fingertips digging into my hips brought a flush to my skin and it deepened as he pressed forward. 

“Oh my- more?” He’d just popped the head of his cock in before he stilled, watching me. “Andrei, please!” 

He gave into my demand but just barely, offering a bit more of himself with a smirk this time. Both of my heels were jammed into his back but he didn’t move an inch, just raised an eyebrow and waited. 

“Dammit, come on!” 

“I wanna hear it.” 

“Baby, this isn’t fair!” He shook his head and pulled out. I felt just enough of the absence before I caved. “Please, fuck me!” 

“How?” 

“However you want.” 

He shook his head and leaned in, nibbling my ear lobe before he spoke. “Tell me how you want it.” 

I lost myself in the sensation for a moment before pressing a hand against his chest, moving with him as he backed up. We both stood and he helped me to my feet, squeezing my fingers before I spun to face the mirror. 

“Bend me over Andrei. I want you to bend me over this counter and fuck me.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He gently pressed between my shoulder blades and I fell forward, grabbing the edge of the sink as he lined himself up. The stretch as he filled me was absolutely breathtaking and I hardly recognized the sound coming from my body. His hips came to rest against my ass and he stilled again, this time leaning forward to press a kiss to my back. “Feel good baby?” 

“Mhmm.” I bit down on my bottom lip as he began to pump, building a rhythm that seemed to shake me to my very core with each thrust. Just as I settled into it he slowed, focusing on long languid movements and running his hands over me. It was such a stark contrast that I felt a different kind of arousal was over me and I was reaching back for him when he changed yet again. 

He gathered my hair into a ponytail and pulled until I was looking at myself in the mirror. The sight of him behind me was enough to tip me over the edge but the snap of his hips and the lust in his voice set a fire in me. 

“I want you to watch me fuck you.” 

“Y’yes! Oh Andre!” It was rough and intense and I felt apt to come apart at the seams, a little more of me slipping into ecstasy with every movement. I squeezed my eyes shut and fireworks went off when he slapped my ass. 

“So close.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and found my clit, rubbing hard with an unwavering touch. My legs shook underneath me and I came hard, tensing with the deep muscle contractions. Andre had stopped thrusting and laid himself on top of me to feel everything, grunting when I clenched around him. He pulled out a moment later and finished on my back, pulling me to stand up and into a lazy kiss. 

“I need a shower now.” I stole a glance in the mirror and noted the mascara running down my cheeks, a sheen of sweat across my forehead and chest. He was sweaty and redfaced when he leaned in to kiss me before taking my hand in his. “Care to join me?” 

Quinn Hughes - Not Myself

Masterlist

Requested: hey girl! I love your writing:) I was wondering if you can write a Quinn Hughes or Andrei Svechnikov imagine where the reader is just going through a tough time at the moment and she’s been distancing herself from the others including him and he confronts her about it and she just melts down and has kinda like a breakdown and he just comforts her the best he can, just something like that because I need that in my life right now!

Word count: 1,071

I don’t think you can ever get over losing a parent but I thought I was doing better I mean its been nine months since I lost my mom and I thought I was doing better. I had great friends there for me when I needed them. I have the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. Just these past couple days I have been missing my mom  and I can’t help but wish she was still here.

I haven’t really talked to Quinn about it. He has been focusing on hockey he should have to worry about me. 

“Hey babe some of the guys and girls are going bowling you want to go?” Quinn walked in the living. I looked up at him and saw that he was already dressed to but I didn't want to move from my spot on the couch. 

“No I am not feeling so well I think I am just going to stay in today.” I tell him hoping he can’t tell I’m lying. 

“Whats wrong? Do you need to go to the doctor?” He sits next to me about to check my head to see if I had a fever but I backed away before he could.

“No I will be fine. I’m just going to rest. You go have fun.” I pull up the blanket that was laying across my legs. 

“Are you sure I don’t have to go. I can stay here and take care of you.” I can see that he is worried about me.

“No no go on I am just going to sleep most of the day anyway.”

“Okay well if you need me just call me I will have my ringer on if you need anything.” I smiled at him and thanked me while he was walking out the door. 

++++++++++

“Oh come on Y/N we haven’t seen you in ac couple months why not fly out here and spend some time with family.” My sister started once again trying to get me to go home. I normally fly home every three months or so but I can’t go back since my mom passed away. I couldn’t be back there without her. 

“I can’t I have some things I have to do here and some events I’m going with Quinn.” In truth I had nothing going on. There were no events I had to go to with Quinn. “I have to go Quinn just got home from practice.” We said our goodbyes and hung up. 

I heard the front door open and saw Quinn walk through the door. 

“Hello beautiful,” He walked over to me with a big smile on his face.

“Whats got you in a good mood?” I ask while he kissed me on the cheek.

“Well, I got a surprise for you.” I heard the front door open again. I turned and saw Jack.

Since Quinn and I started dating. I have grown close to Jack. He has been a little brother to me and a great friend. 

“What are you doing here?” I ask not getting up from my sit. I looked at the Hughes brothers. 

“I know you have been feeling down a little lately Y/N I thought since We are about to play each other and he had a couple days off before the game he could come here and hang out.”

“Well I don’t want to hang out I don’t want to see anyone. Maybe next time you will ask.” I got up from where I was sitting and went to mine and Quinn’s room and shut the door. 

I went straight to the bed and sat down put my head in my hands and just broke down. All I wanted was my mom and she wasn’t here. I can’t call her when I need someone to talk to. She’s not here when Quinn and I getting into a fight I want to call her and get her advice. When I want to tell her about something that just happened I can’t because she isn’t here. 

There was a knock at the door. It opened slowly and I saw Quinn’s head poke in. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Y/N what’s going on?” I got on his knees in from on me and took my hands in his. “You haven’t been yourself. I’m not the only one to notice it either. Your sister called me the other day and asked how you were doing. You haven’t been home in months. Just now with Jack, normally when you see him you run right up to him but this time you don’t do anything.” I felt tears still coming from my eyes. “It's okay not to be okay. If you are missing your mom then it's okay I’m here for you. If you want to talk about her then we can talk about her all day long. If you want to hear her name or anything about her then I won’t say a word but I’m here for you. Don't close yourself off from everyone that cares about you.”

“I just miss you so much, Quinn. She was supposed to be here when I get married one day. She was supposed to be here when I have kids. She is supposed to be here when I’m so mad at you that I have to talk to someone.” Quinn got up from the ground and sat next to me and wrapped his arms around me.

“When we get married one day we will leave a chair open just for her. We will tell our kids about their grandmother and how amazing she was. You can call my mom when we fight because you know she is always on your side about everything. She is watching over you Y/N and looking out for you every day. If you want to sit in a room and talk to her then you can do that.”

I pulled away from Quinn a bit but not to where I was out of his arms. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“You deserve so much and I love you so much.” He kissed me on the top of my head. 

“I’m sorry for not being myself lately.”

“You don’t need to say sorry.” I put my head on his chest. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere.”

write natasha realizing she's in love with pierre

@transpierre would DIE for you mal

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Natasha sat alone, wrapped in a down blanket she had dragged into the drawing room some hours before. It was an unearthly hour-- not even the servants of the house, whose work often dragged on well after she retired for the evening, were stirring now. She tugged from a pile a few small logs that had been brought in that morning and kindled a fire for herself, something her parents told her countesses didn’t do but that it was what good Russian girls with good Russian families learned in secret when their good Russian families happened to know this sort of thing. Pride pushed forward for a moment, emanating from deep within her and pulled upward just beneath the center of her chest, thrust there by memories of her uncle teaching her the Barynya, clapping loudly and over and over proclaiming in his booming tenor voice “kazach'ya grafinya!” And that was how she always felt. A cossack countess-- refined and poised and elegantly dressed full of life and fight and passion and

A shiver shifted from the nape of her neck and down her spine, radiating slightly outwards and raising the hair on her arms in small goosebumps that diminished somewhat as she ran her soft hands over them. She had been all those things once, she was certain. But now… she wasn’t so sure. So much of her had been stolen away in pieces and moments throughout the past few years. Nikolai had been gone too long, in body and in words. She hadn’t heard from him in weeks, and her concern exhausted her and her anxieties pooled in the middle of her stomach, swirling now in again in thoughts of grave injury and death. Anatole… had taken away trust. She was cautious now; not fearful but rather much more capable of understanding just what a person wants by looking, really looking into their eyes. She had come to learn that everyone’s true intentions lived in how they held their gaze on another. She looked back on her memories of Anatole’s stare that first night all that time ago, a night in which she saw intrigue and mystery and what she thought might be blossoming love, but (she realized now) how tragically she misunderstood the hunger of a predator’s gaze. With Petya… she didn’t dwell on how much of her heart was lost with him. But, equally devastating, she thought, was that with Andrei went her optimism and cheerfulness and faith in happy endings. She felt keenly how cruelly the universe had rebuked her by giving her back her first love, to have him offer her forgiveness for her foolish misdeeds in a final moment of quiet, steadfast, true love, and then to take him again in a noiseless and violent end.

She saw herself as a shadow of who she had once been. She felt cold, though not from the winter that seeped upward through the old wooden floorboards of the house she now found herself in, catching her toes and forcing her to pull her legs up on the chaise and underneath her. This cold lived in her now, seeped into her bones and into her spirit and threatened chronic bitterness that would cloud the rest of her days with gray memories of wonderful things passed away from her life.

She felt the darkness threatening to overtake her, and so she decided to pull back the pieces she still had left of herself in thoughts of her father, her mother, her cousin, her father, her mother, her cousin, her father, her mother, her cousin and

Pierre.

Pierre Bezukhov. Always regarded in the lowest of opinions by those whose thoughts should matter but never really did.

But Natasha…. Natasha thought the world of him.

He was kind, truly kind in a society where kindness was only ever employed to leverage status and favors or to gather information. He was strong of heart, even when his will faltered, and he always tried to do right by those he felt affection or reverence for. He was often said to be silly or stupid, but in him Natasha saw a brilliant mind shut away by cruel words or flustered stares-- after all, his conversation was often stirring and provocative, and society conversation was never meant to be more than light patter or petty gossip. His appearance was often mocked, something that had always caused anger to rise and bleed into Natasha’s pretty features, but which especially did so as she sat alone in the room, and she noticed herself clenching her fists without meaning to.

It was certain that he could be unkempt and disheveled, his glasses were often askew on his nose, and some taunted his thickset body, but Natasha always rather liked the way he looked. She found the nervous way he shifted his coats and how often he had to push his glasses back up to the hook of his nose to be an incredibly endearing thing, and often thought that his ruffled hair suited his rosy cheeks-- it made him look youthful and robust. His body, however, was something indescribable to her. It was the source (much to her chagrin) of a series of thoughts that had entered her mind suddenly at functions and in sleepless nights throughout more recent years, the nature of which caused her to blush a deep rouge, even now.

But she cherished him most of all for the friendship he had always given her. His belief in her goodness, his uplifting words in times when her own thoughts told her how wretched she was, his laughter at offhanded jokes or heavy handed compliments that she directed at him only half doused in flippance. She treasured his company, and yearned for it in the still solemnity of the dimly lit parlour.

She imagined him walking through the doors for one of their afternoon talks over cakes and tea, which were sometimes about how he conducted business, sometimes about Natasha’s family, and which sometimes were about grand politics and wars and social injustices. She thought of him jamming his arm a little as he tried to make it through the thin jam unscathed, her rising swiftly to comfort him, and him kissing her hand before it could reach his arm.

She took in a sharp breath at the thought of his lips on her skin.

Pierre’s lips, to the naked eye, were nothing special. But Natasha, for reasons she attributed to the keenness of an artists’ eye, had always found them a fascinating study. They were not thin, but he often pressed them in a line when he was thinking very hard, and he thought very hard very often. But when his expression softened, they were different...fuller. The top lip dipped in a cupids bow just a little off center, leaving the left side a little larger than the right, but in a way that Natasha felt made his smile delightfully crooked. His bottom lip was fuller, lighter on the edges but a deep pink towards the center. There was a scar on it that cut from just right of center down to the crook of his chin, and disappeared when he bit his lower lip (a habit he had picked up when confused, curious, fascinated, or entranced.) His mouth moved handsomely, and occasionally he shifted his jaw to one side and then the other when he couldn’t quite gather a thought. But best of all was that when he fought one of his lovely smiles, his lips pulled together and pursed in a way that seemed to Natasha like a kiss tossed into the air… or to her.

And she realized she felt a little warmer.

And that warmth pooled in over the anxiety collected deep within her and permeated her marrow, and she felt that warmth flood her toes and her ears and her neck until suddenly she felt as though it were the loveliest spring night anyone in Russia had seen in decades. And she felt her old self return to her body, to her home for just a moment, and that old self greeted the woman she had become, and embraced her and told her that she had things to examine.

Air escaped her for a moment, and Natasha pulled in a long, shuddering breath. A breath that carried something that she didn’t know was inside her but which had been with her since she-didn’t- know- when.

There are times that love, in the great novels and oral traditions, is described as coming on passionately and suddenly, that lust sparks it and that flames burn brightly and that intensity doesn’t fade. It comes from nothing and builds on nothing but magically, spectacularly, it never dies. Natasha had thought fondly of a great romance such as this for some of her youth and wondered often when it might be that she would be swept off her feet.

But Natasha had never thought about a grand romance built on actually knowing a person. She never thought of the idea of a courtship built cautiously and carefully over the keys of a piano forte, long nimble fingers guiding their clumsy albeit persevering partners through a simple melody. She never considered the passion shown in support, in kind words and gentle touches of the hand, in comforting embraces, in strands of hair detached from tear stained cheeks and tucked back in place with tenderness and care, in a lingering, consoling hand on that cheek. She never thought about the romance of a listening ear, of having someone dear to her who truly cared to listen to her and who understood her thoughts and treated her as the intelligent woman she was.

She never thought of what it might be like to fall in love with her most beloved friend until it had already happened. And it warmed her in a way that she felt could never fully fade away.

And that warmth stayed with her a moment longer, before she could stop to wonder if he felt the same, before she could think of the shame of her feelings for a man already married to a woman who was, in her perception, of much greater elegance and taste, before she had the presence of mind to realize that Pierre was gone, too… that he now was missing to a war he was never meant to fight.

She pushed those thoughts away for a moment, and she basked in the glow of the firelight, considering all the ways she might figure to tell him if given the chance.

I removed some books today.

I think of myself as a minimalist, but that doesn’t happen to be true. I have acquired more books than I will ever read. They still sit, stacked and unreachable, in piles by the walls, two dozen books tall and sometimes two books deep.

I don’t think I know where they all came from. I think more came from online than from any physical store. I bought them from Abebooks, the sales search platform that Amazon owns now. Abebooks tell you the names of the sellers, but they seem unconnected to any real place.

From Better World Books. From Thrift Books and Bookbarn. From Silver Arch Books, Motor City Books, Free State Books, Sierra Nevada Books, Yankee Clipper Books, and the Atlanta Book Company. From Green Earth Books and Housing Works Books. From Goldstone Books and Powell’s Books and Kennys Bookshop and Art Galleries. From Satellite Books and the Orchard Bookshop. From Blue Cloud Books and Hippo Books and Wonder Book.

They’re from all over, from places you’ve never been, places you’ll never be. They’re names on a box. But then there are the books from more intimate places, intimately connected

From library’s old bookstore, which sold paperbacks for fifty cents, hardcovers for a dollar. From the basement of the old independent bookstore down on Front Street, where they sold remaindered and overstocked books marked down with red-orange tape. From the thrift store across the street, which charged too much.

From the Chapters at the mall in your hometown, or the Chapters and Indigo in the places you’ve been to, from the shelves of marked-down items where you looked for bargains, for the books you knew you should read, and all the books you never would. Places where you could drink sweet cream and coffee and pretend to read.

From the Borders in Syracuse, where you idled while the family went to the fair, where they always said they were going to build the largest mall in America, but never did. There was another Borders in South Florida, where they were stripping fixtures from the walls because the books had not sold, and so the Borders had to be. They still have bookstores. I’m not sure what they sell now. Postcards, I think.

The books still in my room had postcards from people I will never know, dedications to people I will never see, business cards from people who have moved on to other work. But their spines are unbroken, their pages unmarked. I guess I wanted them that way. I bought them like that.

I sometimes worried they would break through the floor. I would wake up to the collapse of everything I have ever owned as I plummeted a few short feet to my death. I guess it would probably take longer than that. I would have to wait for them to crush me. That mass of books would fall on me, blotting out the light. Crushed beneath nearly everything I have ever owned.

That’s what happened to the clerk Toshiko Sasaki in John Hershey’s Hiroshima, who was seated at her desk on August 6, 1945, in front of a couple of bookcases from the factor library:

Everything fell, and Miss Sasaki lost consciousness. The ceiling dropped suddenly and the wooden floor above collapsed in splinters and the people up there came down and the roof above them gave way; but principally and first of all, the bookcases right behind her swooped forward and the contents threw her down, with her left leg horribly twisted and breaking underneath her. There, in the tin factory, in the first moment of the atomic age, a human being was crushed by books.

Miss Sasaki made out alright, although not so well as to not ask the question “If your God is so good and kind, how can he let people suffer like this?” But then, I have more books than she did.

I removed some books today. I still have more I want to remove. I just don’t have the boxes for them. I took the boxes I did have in the back of my car to a mass-market thrift store, where they will end up on the shelves by the leather jackets. 

Perhaps they will end on some other shelf, like a postcard from somewhere unknown, in someone else’s memory. But I don’t think they will. I don’t think they’ll sell. There aren’t enough people here who spend money pretending to read.

I don’t know what will happen to them. I suppose they will pulp them. Or perhaps they will end in a landfill, crushed beneath their own weight, suffocating beneath the earth we have made for them until life reclaims them.

I wrote out a partial list of the books I threw out. I don’t know what it says about me. There’s a double significance here: These are books I bought, for some amount of money, but these are also books I am throwing away, because I asked the question the woman told me to ask, which was whether they sparked joy, and I answered no.

Those books in the photo are the books that have not yet been thrown away. Here, below the fold, are the books that have:

Judith Fitzgerald’s Sarah McLachlan: Building a Mystery

Mordecai Richler’s Oh Canada! Oh Quebec!

Jonathan Coe’s The Rotter’s Club

Misha Glenny’s McMafia

Joinville and Villehardouin’s Chronicles of the Crusades

Michael Ignatieff’s The Lesser Evil

Russell Dalton’s Citizen Politics in Western Democracies: Public Opinion and Political Parties in the United States, Great Britain, West Germany, and France

Richard Finn’s Winners in Peace: MacArthur, Yoshida, and Postwar Japan

Ramachandra Guha’s India After Gandhi

Fox Butterfield’s China: Alive in the Bitter Sea

Anthony Sampson’s The Changing Anatomy of Britain

Masanori Hashimoto’s The Japanese Labor Market in a Comparative Perspective with the United States

Donald Keene’s Dawn to the West: Japanese Literature of the Modern Era: Poetry, Drama, Criticism

Andrei Shleifer’s Without a Map: Political Tactics and Economic Reform in Russia

Peter Newman’s The Secret Mulroney Tapes

Nicholas Negroponte’s Being Digital

Lesley Downer’s The Brothers: The Hidden World of Japan’s Richest Family

Harold Vogel’s Entertainment Industry Economics

Stephen Goldsmith and William D. Eggers’s Governing by Network: The New Shape of the Public Sector

Donald Harman Akenson, Saint Saul: A Skeleton Key to the Historical Jesus

Philip Ziegler’s King Edward VIII

David Wessel’s In FED We Trust

Robert Dallek’s Flawed Giant: Lyndon Johnson and His Times, 1961--1973

David Halberstam’s The Reckoning

David Bell’s The First Total War: Napoleon’s Europe and the Birth of Warfare as We Know It

Kevin Phillips’s The Cousins’ Wars

Yirmiyahu Yovel, Spinoza and Other Heretics: The Adventures of Immanence

Michael Oren’s Six Days of War: June 1967 and the Making of the Modern Middle East

Lawrence McDonald’s A Colossal Failure of Common Sense: The Inside Story of the Collapse of Lehman Brothers

Richard Posner’s The Crisis of Capitalist Democracy

William Chester Jordan’s Europe in the High Middle Ages

William Cohan’s House of Cards: A Tale of Hubris and Wretched Excess on Wall Street

Bryan Burrough and John Helyar’s Barbarians at the Gate: The Fall of RJR Nabisco

Linda Lear’s Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature

Jane Mayer’s The Dark Side: The Inside Story of How the War on Terror Turned into a War on American Ideals

Allan Brandt’s The Cigarette Century: The Rise, Fall, and Deadly Persistence of the Product That Defined America

Garry Wills’s Head and Heart: American Christianities

Sarah Bradford’s Elizabeth: A Biography of Britain’s Queen

Andrew Gordon’s The Evolution of Labor Relations in Japan: Heavy Industry, 1853--1955

John Ardagh’s France in the New Century: Portrait of a Changing Society

Bob Woodward’s The Agenda: Inside the Clinton White House

John Julius Norwich’s Byzantium: The Early Centuries

Taylor Branch’s Pillar of Fire: America in the King Years, 1963--65

Michael Lewis’s Liar’s Poker

Tim Blanning’s The Pursuit of Glory: Europe, 1648--1815

Robert Fagles’s translation of Virgil’s The Aeneid

Karl Popper’s The Poverty of Historicism

P. D. Smith’s Doomsday Men: The Real Dr. Strangelove and the Dream of the Superweapon

Richard Rhodes’s Arsenals of Folly: The Making of the Nuclear Arms Race

Margaret Thatcher’s Downing Street Years

Alistair Horne’s Harold Macmillan, 1957--1986

Taylor Branch’s The Clinton Tapes: Wrestling History with the President

Ian Kershaw’s Hitler, 1936--1945: Nemesis

David Grossman’s To the End of the Land

Sean Wilentz’s The Rise of American Democracy: Jefferson to Lincoln

Philipp Blom’s The Vertigo Years: Europe, 1900--1914

Jacob M. Schlesinger’s Shadow Shoguns: The Rise and Fall of Japan’s Postwar Political Machine

Peter Jenkins’s Mrs. Thatcher’s Revolution: The Ending of the Socialist Era

Martin Lawrence’s Iron Man: The Defiant Reign of Jean Chrétien

Marin Lawrence’s Chrétien: The Will to Win

Alastair Campbell’s The Blair Years

Tony Blair’s A Journey

David Kennedy’s Don’t Shoot: One Man, a Street Fellowship, and the End of Violence in Inner-City America

Joshua Ferris’s Then We Came to the End

Kate McCafferty’s Testimony of an Irish Slave Girl

Martin Wolf’s Why Globalization Works

Charles Fishman’s The Wal-Mart Effect: How the World’s Most Powerful Company Really Works -- and How It’s Transforming the American Economy

William Easterly’s The White Man's Burden: Why the West's Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good

Karel van Wolferen’s The Enigma of Japanese Power: People and Politics in a Stateless Nation

Jeffrey Sachs’s The End of Poverty: How We Can Make It Happen in Our Lifetime

@extasiie // i am weak

Oh, Anatole fully intends to reassure Andrei of just this truth. He shall do it now, whispered between kisses all along Andrei’s jaw and against his throat. He shall do it tomorrow, when they wake up in the same bed, lazy and completely  n u m b to the scandal it invites for a few blissful moments. He shall do it as they part, with a hand at the nape of Andrei’s neck, drawing him close to murmur it softly but firmly, and again when next they meet and break into the frenzy of AFFECTION, between promises of love.

Anatole has never been a man who looks any further than the day at hand. He does not anticipate — does not plan. He sees only in immediacy. But when he thinks of Andrei, and when he thinks specifically of the CLAIM over Andrei which he has asserted, he sees that he has become a man invested in some future, no matter how finite. The eternal  N O W in which he thinks is really the most permanent form of attachment he can imagine. He wants Andrei now — LOVES HIM now — and loves him too in that unending second that comprises all life. If it is always now, he shall always love.

Simply to think this, to stumble upon such a rhetoric that is convenient to his amorous temperament, does not make it true, or, at least, any more true than it was for any warm body he’s ever claimed to love just because it would lie beside him. But it FEELS true, doesn’t it?

“You are mine,”

He vows this, and presses Andrei down into the sheets of his bed. He is not as graceful in these intimate moments as he once was (the war saw to that!) and to steady himself between Andrei’s parted legs takes longer than it once did. This is fine. They have the time to be GENTLE with themselves in a way they never used to. The war could not part us, he thinks, and nothing ever shall.

“Mine alone.”

This is spoken into the hollow of Andrei’s throat, and is followed by a playful nip when Anatole’s lips drag over his collar bone. He can feel beneath his touch the flinching, the writhing, every response of Andrei’s body, and he loves the things that this body will tell him when the mouth will not speak. He’s always loved the body, he thinks, and it is only a body that one can understand totally and perfectly, whatever nonsense they mouth and its ruler the mind deal in. But, he thinks, even that nonsense is DEAR to him now, and though he does not know its language with the fluency of the body’s, he is learning to parse its meanings, and to know that there are still some things about his lover which the body cannot tell, and he craves to know them — know it all.

“Mine completely.”

andrei knows that this promise, whispered so against his skin with such gentle intention, means nothing. and yet to hear it is everything ; every word and every kiss and every press of their bodies only make certain what words have told him. he has not asked for this to know it, but to hear it again, to drink in the sweetness in anatole’s voice when he says it, to draw them closer still so he might bask in that warmth with which he has become so familiar. to feel again the comfort that these meaningless words bring, as though it will make up for too many years of knowing nothing but its bitter opposite. the newness of this love had not yet faded ---- but he has felt this comfort with anatole long before the war, and in having admitted that secret love, may savor now the openness of it.

and this, andrei thinks, is love ; not the heat between them when writhing bodies become one, nor the words uttered into warm skin, but the feeling of ease, of lightness, that overcomes when they lie, carelessly wrapped in one another’s embrace. it is not the sweeping and grand force that andrei had once imagined ; it is not the moral and philosophically relevant brightness that he had always sought. it is instead the feeling of a burden lifted off of his shoulders when he might abandon his coldness and his bitterness to make space for something softer.

perhaps he is not happy ; still happiness has scarcely ever seemed as close as it is now. all the restrains reaching hands are the memories that, with anatole’s touch, will soon fade, if only for hours at a time.

since the war, there has been change ---- the prospect of having almost lost anatole, to the war and to the dreadful and distance weeks that had followed have made andrei patient. there is no necessity for rapidness, no pressing thought that he should not be there. though surely these conditions still exist, he has learned to ignore them in favor of the time they spend together. the scandal has not disappeared, and still he fears it consequences, but when they are together in their room ( andrei has ceased to think of it as anatole’s alone ---- he feels more at home here than he ever has in his own house ) it matters less to him than the comfort of being there.

the worry that they will one day be found out and andrei will face severe consequences has never gone away, but retreats in the face of their intimacy. and because of it, andrei is learning, slowly but certainly, how to rid from his body what had once seemed impossibly permanent tension.

the posture is familiar, and andrei is patient as anatole moves and helpful when necessary. his legs part only enough so that his thighs may rest against anatole’s hips, and his arms wrap with familiarity around his body, hands rested on his back ---- so he might cling to him whenever it suits them. these sweet nothings between them should carry no weight, and still when he whispers “ i love you, ” against anatole’s skin, there is nothing he means with more intention. andrei has only recently become accustomed to the sound of these words, and whenever he utters them, he cannot help how it makes his heart race. he cannot help how the truth of it makes him feel so complete. and so with his back arched slightly so there might be no space between them, and because he knows that it is a lasting and indisputable truth, he says it again.

“ i love you. ”

A Star in the Desert

"ALI?" The colonel's voice boomed through the crowded hallway. "WHERE THE HELL IS ALI?!" The shout cut through the clamor, and suddenly every face in the hallway turned towards Ali. She tightened her grip on the stack of papers in her arms and quickly pushed her way through the masses, keeping her eyes firmly at the ground the entire way. Slowly, the commotion began to kick up again. "Here, sir", she mumbled when she reached him. The colonel started in an exaggerated fashion. "Christ girl, I told you to stop sneaking around me like that!" "My apologies, sir", Ali deadpanned. The joke was a favorite of his. Ali was barely 5'2, and the colonel towered over her with his 6'3 frame. Though at this point, the colonel was the only one who still saw the humor of it. "Hahaha...no, you're right, no time for jokes. Follow me." The colonel started walking, long strides at a time. The entire E ring of the Pentagon was in chaos and, if Ali suspected right, the rest of the building along with it. Something had happened, something big. Nobody knew the whole picture, but the details were slowly filtering in. Mission failed, targets escaped...men dead. "What do you got for me? I'm being pulled apart here, getting all kinds of interference about what happened." Ali struggled to keep up with his pace, while trying to keep a stack of papers from falling out of her hands. "Sir. It's been confirmed that we've lost Delta Team B." The colonel abruptly stopped and turned around. It was all Ali could do to keep herself from bumping into his chest. He stared down at her. "As the great apostle Paul once said: come again? "It was during the Falluj-" "Yeah, yeah, I know what they were doing", the colonel said, angrily waving his arms as if he were swatting an invisible fly. "Christ Ali, how about I put you on the intercom, let the whole wing know why don't you." Ali didn't say anything. She'd gotten used to the colonel's outbursts. It wasn't the first time she wondered how this man, who was so quick to lose his composure during a crisis, had risen to the rank of colonel. The colonel ran his hand through his hair. "Christ almighty, they're gonna be all over me..." He looked back at Ali. "Tell me you got something. Anything." Ali nodded patiently. "We're not exactly sure what happened, bu-" "Oh, Jesus", the colonel moaned. "BUT", Ali continued, "we have a helmet recording from one of the members of Delta Squad B." The colonels eyes lit up as if Ali had turned into a pot of gold. "Recording? What does it say? Why wasn't I told?" "The tech guys are still working on it", Ali said. "The footage was heavily damaged." "Alright, alright..." The colonel was calming down. "That's good. We got something to go by. Right, where are they?" "The tech bay, sir." "Bring them all to central. I want this done under my watch. Got it?" Ali nodded. "Yes sir." Ali's full name was actually Halimah. Her parents had come to the US when she was two, escaping the regime of the communist hating president Zia. Though not a full-blown communist himself, her father had ties to certain groups that were considered 'subversive'. Better to be safe than sorry. She had a double Masters in International Politics and Law from Yale. They had first approached her during her final year in college. It had all been a very covert affair: coded e-mails, meetings in dark rooms, and of course the dozens of tests they put her through (mostly to root out any potential communist leanings, if Ali were to guess). In the end, she had been offered a job as a desk clerk at the Pentagon. That was five years ago. Then, a position higher up presented itself. They needed someone who could speak Pashto for a highly classified function. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. That's how she ended up with the colonel. The first thing the colonel did was shorten her name to Ali. As he'd told her: "Nothing personal girly, I just don't have the time to run through the whole goddamn alphabet whenever I need to call you." As far as her parents and friends knew, she was still a regular desk clerk. By the time Ali returned to the central command room with the technicians it had already filled up with dozens of people swarming around like a hive of angry bees. The chamber was structured like a large oval. Rows of desks with computers and other technological equipment on them filled the majority of the space. The front wall was covered by a large screen. For the moment, it only showed a rotating American flag on a black background. At the back end of the chamber was an elevated platform, providing any person standing on it with complete oversight of the entire room. That was where the colonel was standing.  He looked up when Ali and her group entered the room, and clapped his hands twice to draw the attention of the room. "Alright folks, the tech crew is here. Let's get them set up and get this party rolling." He addressed the technicians directly. "I want that recording up and running on the double. Got that?" He was answered by a few diminutive "yes sirs" and some nods. The colonel beckoned Ali. "Ali, with me." When she reached him, he was just signing off on a document. "Get that to Nelson", he told another aide. He turned his attention to Ali. "What's the down-low? How much time they gonna need?" "From what I gather, they've finished most of it, sir", Ali said. "Need to clean it up a bit and it should be ready to go." The colonel nodded. "Alright...alright. That hound Nelson has been breathing down my neck all day. Won't be able to hold him off forever, need to give him something solid." Nelson Frankman was the chief of staff. He was the highest authority the colonel had access too. Ali knew that, with a case like this, Frankman would take over sooner or later. Hopefully they would be able to get the recording running before that. The colonel looked at a tall bespectacled woman who was hunched over a table with a group of other people . "Sarah? What's the status on the media?" Ali recognized her as Sarah Brands, head of public relations. "Nothing yet sir", Brands said, her head never rising. "We're on the lookout for any leaks. So far so good." "Good, good... " The colonel's hands were gripping the chair in front of him, the white on his knuckles clearly visible. "Still can't believe this shit", he murmured at no one in particular. "Goddamn lost an entire Delta squad. How the hell does that even happen?". His right index finger started tapping on the plastic of the chair. "Leak in the intel...? Can't be. Maybe...no...FUCK!" Ali took a step back at the sudden outburst. Every head in the room turned towards the colonel. The colonel glared at them. "The hell you all staring at?" Instantly, everyone tried to appear as busy as possible. "Anything I can do sir?", Ali asked, trying to help him get his bearings back. The colonel looked at her like he'd seen her for the first time. "Ali? Yes...yes, get me a list of Delta B's members and their backgrounds." Always prepared, Ali pulled out a sheet of paper from the stack she was holding and handed it to him. "Right here, sir." The colonel quickly scanned the document, nodding while reading. "Andrei Moretz, Clancy Johnson, William Bard, Ahmed Khu...Khuda..." "Kudiadadzai, sir", Ali helped. "Right. And Tom Harris, squad leader. Christ, they're some of the best we got. If we lost one of them it'd be bad enough. All of them? Might as well send me to the firing squad right now." The colonel had a penchant for dramatics, Ali knew. It was best not to push when he had his moments. Still, to lose an entire Delta Squad...perhaps he was right to be so anxious. "I'll go check on the techies", Ali said. The colonel nodded absentmindedly, turning to read another document that had been shoved under his nose by an aide. Just as Ali was about to make her way to the front of the room, one of the technicians, a tall, spindly man with a cartoon t-shirt, stood up. "It's done." The words cut through the commotion in the room like a knife through butter. Slowly, the room grew to a quiet. The colonel was gripping his chair so hard that Nancy could see it's legs vibrate. "Alright", he said, a barely perceptible tremble in his voice. "Let's see it." The technician quickly returned to his seat and started clicking with his laptop mouse, all the while mumbling to himself. "Just...upload it here...broadcast it to...there...here we go." The flag on the screen flickered, before disappearing entirely. Images briefly flashes across the screen, but they were too unclear for Ali to make out what they were. She could feel butterflies in her stomach. Finally, the footage stabilized, and the recording began to play. It seemed to be taking place in a dark alleyway. The ground was covered in sand and dirt. Ramshackle buildings lined the street, many showing signs of battle; bullet holes, or partially collapsed roofs. Two figures in specialized military uniforms were quickly making their way through the alley, their bodies hunched and their rifles help up in front of their faces. Ali had to remind herself this was footage taken from a helmet cam, so there were three people there. But Delta Squad B had five members. They must be behind the camera. Suddenly a voice spoke up. "Damn this shit." "I heard that Clancy", another voice snapped. It seemed to be coming from the lead figure at the front. "One more beep out of you and I swear I'm calling in a friendly fire incident." "That's Harris", the colonel said to no one in particular. "But this ain't right, top", the voice that was identified as Clancy Johnson continued.  "These folks, they didn't do no-" "Fucks sake...", another voice from behind murmured. "Hey man, up yours Bill" The colonel nodded to himself. "Bard. That makes four" The squad leader spoke again. "That don't matter shit Clancy. Boss says we go after their families, that's what we do. End of. Now shut up and keep your eyes open. We're almost there." Suddenly the other man at the front raised his hand to signal a halt. "Contact." "Moretz", the colonel mumbled, but his tone made the statement sound like a question, as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing.  Ali barely heard him, her attention wholly taken up by what was happening on the screen. A figure was standing roughly fifty feet ahead of the soldiers, in a small patch of shadows out of the moonlight. The front end of a rifle came into view just beneath the camera. The squad leader raised one finger and bent it to point at the figure. "Ahmed." Sounds of movement came from behind the camera. A figure hurriedly passed by the camera's right side until he'd reached the front of the group. He started addressing the figure in a foreign language. Ali realized it was Pashto. She felt the colonel's hand grip her shoulder. "What is that, what's he saying?" "He's demanding that the individual step out and indentify himself." The unknown individual began slowly walking forward, until he was fully out of the shadows. Ali could hear a low murmur begin to rise in the room. The pressure on her shoulder increased, but Ali hardly felt it. The figure was clearly not of Afghani or Pakistani descent, or even Iranian for that matter. He had a vaguely Asian look to him, though if someone had told her he was an American she strangely would not have disagreed. He wore a simple red shirt with a loose fitting blue vest over it, but they were ragged, as if they'd been torn apart and sewn back together several times over. But what really startled Ali were his muscles: they were unbelievably large. The man looked like he could lift a truck with one arm. "What...", Ali heard the colonel mumble beside her. In the footage, the soldiers were trying to keep their cool, but Ali could hear a similar level of confusion. "The fuck...", Bard breathed. "Top? What do we do?", Clancy asked, his voice low and urgent. The squad leader motioned them to be quiet. "Ahmed, again.", he said to the squad member to his left. Ahmed repeated his demands from before. The man before them did not react, staring at them motionlessly. "What is he, stupid?", Moretz demanded. Ahmed shrugged, in so far as his equipment allowed it. "Guess he's not a local." "I could have told you that much", Clancy murmured. "Shut it, boy scout", Harris snapped. "Alright, we don't have time for this. Moretz, take him out. Headshot only, don't want to wake the whole street" "Sir", was the curt reply. The figure to the right of Harris took aim, and then fired a single round at the stranger. The sound of the shot echoed through the streets. Again, the man failed to react. There were no signs of impact, no blood or staggered movement. Suddenly Ali felt the colonel lean forward. "What is he holding?" Ali hadn't even noticed the fact that the man had two fingers raised before his face. Something was wedged between his middle and index fingers, something small and dark and... Ali felt her stomach turn. "It's the bullet." Slowly, more and more people in the room came to the same realization, and the murmur began to rise in volume. "Goddamit, keep it down, or I'll haul you out myself", the colonel roared. Despite his bravado, Ali could see his hands shaking. The commotion in the room had made Ali miss some of the dialogue between the members of Delta Squad B. "Top?", Bard said. "I'm thinking", was the response from Harris. "I say we go full auto on this Houdini motherfucker", Moretz snarled. Clancy scoffed. "And get the whole village down on our heads. What are you, stupid?" "One more time, Clancy, I swear to god..." "Can you sons of bitches shut up", Bard hissed. "We got bi...oh shit!" The unidentified man slowly started walking towards them. "Ahmed, again", Harris said, his voice grim. "But top, he's no-" "Just do it, dammit!" Once more, Ahmed addressed the man in Pashto, but like the last time, the man gave no signs of understanding any of it. He continued his march unabated. "Alright, that's it", Harris said. "On my mark, turn this fucker into Cheddar." The man was now thirty feet away from them. He had a look of cold determination on his face that gave Ali goose bumps. "Hold it", Harris said. Twenty feet. Ali could make out a canvas of scars on his body. The most prominent of these were a series of puncture marks  on his chest that looked like he'd been shot multiple times over. Ten feet. The man put his hands together and cracked his knuckles, the sound oddly loud in the quietness of the alley. "Take him out!", Harris shouted. "Hyooow" Just as the bullets started flying through the alleyway, the man leaped with a shout, rolling and turning in the air like a trained gymnast, going high, too high to be humanly possible. For a second, the camera lost track of him as he vaulted over their heads. And then he was right in the middle of the group, and chaos broke loose.   "Hold your fire, HOLD YOUR FIRE", Harris was shouting. They all scrambled to get away from him, but the man had already grabbed Bard. In one quick motion, he pressed his index fingers on the sides of Bard's helmet, breaking through the reinforced material as if it was cheap plastic, and hit his temples with his fingertips. Before any of them could react, the assailant jumped away again. Bard stumbled in place like a drunkard, trying to get his bearings back. He was still wearing the remains of his broken helmet. "Fuck, where'd he go?! Bill, you alright?", Harris said. Bard had stabilized his movements. "Yeah...yeah I think so." He raised his rifle. "Alright, where is that fu-". Before Bard could finish the sentence, his head exploded. Ali remembered accidentally eavesdropping on a conversation her dad had with an old friend from Pakistan. She had been twelve, and she'd been trying to sneak into the kitchen for an afternoon snack. The living room door had been left slightly ajar, and just as Ali was trying to worm her way by, her father's friend was telling him about what had happened to an acquaintance of them who had been captured by the Pakistani government. The details had been gruesome, and suddenly Ali hadn't felt so hungry anymore. She'd quietly made her way upstairs, back to her room, and laid on her bed for hours, staring at the ceiling. She never told anyone about it. Now, fifteen years later, she felt that horribly familiar feeling come back as she watched William Bard's head explode in a rain of flesh and pieces of bone. The conference room erupted in a whirlwind of commotion. People were shouting and screaming. Some had jumped out of their seats, or fallen on the ground, as if a flash bang had been set off . Ali saw one of the technicians throw up all over his laptop. In contrast, the colonel stood motionless as a statue, his eyes fixated on the screen. Ali forced herself to continue watching as well. In the footage, pandemonium had similarly broken loose. Bullets were flying everywhere, as all the while Harris was shouting at them to close ranks and hold their fire. The video feed was getting erratic, as Clancy's head was turning a different direction every second, trying to find their target. A muffled grunt behind him made him whirl around. Moretz was kneeling on the ground, gripping his stomach. Clancy moved towards him, constantly looking around him. "Andrei? What's going on?" Moretz had an anguished look on his face. "I...I don't know. He...he was here, and...I..." His stomach started expanding furiously. He started screaming and clawing at his midsection. "Fuck! Clancy, Clancy help me man, I ca-" A second later, his stomach burst open in a deluge of blood and intestines. "Jesus fucking....oh dear Jesus." Clancy fell to the ground as the blood rained over him. He desperately scrambled back on all fours. The camera was dotted in bloodstains. "What the fuck top, what the fuck is going on?!" Ahmed was heard shouting off screen. "I...he must be carrying some kind of miniature explosives", Harris said, his voice sounding like he'd just run a mile. The camera frantically tried to locate his position as Clancy was trying to get back on his feet.  "Just fucking don't let him get nea- uahaaaaaa" The sentence transformed into a scream, and seconds later the by now all too familiar sound of erupting flesh echoed through the alleyway. When the camera finally found him, all that was left of squad leader Sam Harris was a shredded pile of meat. The camera abruptly lowered two feet as Clancy fell to his knees, hurling violently. "Fuck this...Clancy, I'm sorry man, I got a wife and kids man." The helmet cam jerked up. Ahmed was running back the way they came, disappearing into the shadows. Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice came from the dark. "Atcha!" The sound of Ahmed's boots on the dirt stopped. "NO. Please, I got a family man, I...I...pa..pwaghuuuu." The clatter of his rifle hitting the ground could be heard, followed by a low thud. All the while, Clancy hadn't moved. The camera was fixated on the pile of vomit on the ground. The sound of feet hitting the ground came from behind him, and a small cloud of dust sprang up. It must have cut through Clancy's haze, because he stumbled back and jumped up. He raised his rifle at the raggedly dressed man before him, his arms unable to contain the shaking anymore. "Why man?!", he screamed hysterically. "Why the fuck are you doing this?!" The man didn't answer. He slowly started walking towards Clancy, one step after the other. Clancy frantically started shooting, not even trying to maintain accuracy as his rifle swung all over the place. "Hyooow" The man leaped through the air and landed behind Clancy. As Clancy frantically turned around, his face ran right into the man's outstretched finger, which hit him right between the eyes. Clancy quickly jumped back. His left hand was feeling around his face, picking at his brow. "What the fuck did you do to me?!" The man didn't say anything. Clancy frantically raised his rifle again."FUCK YOU MAN. YOU'RE FUCKING DEA-" Finally, the man spoke. His voice was cold and monotone. "Omae wa mou...shindeiru." Clancy's arms started shaking more heavily. "What?! What was that? What did you say? Fuck you want, man?!" The man slowly turned around and started walking away. "Wha..." Suddenly, Clancy dropped his rifle. His hands rose to his head. The camera flailed around wildly as Clancy started screaming. "No...no...je-bluaerghh" The helmet cam flew through the air amidst a rain of blood and brain matter, before it landed on the ground. A heavy thud followed shortly after. The man could be seen walking back down the alley he came from, until he was swallowed up by the shadows. From there, the footage stayed the same; a dark, dusty alleyway in between a series of war-torn buildings. For a moment, there was absolute silence in the central command room. A sense of general unease hang in the air, clinging to Ali like a second skin. What the hell had they just witnessed? Rather than be panicked or frightened, Ali felt oddly numb. It was all just so...surreal. Eventually, one of the technicians broke the silence. "It uh...it kind of goes on like this for a while", he said, indicating the screen. The scenery had not changed. Every now and then, a small gust of wind would blow up some sand. The colonel didn't react. He was still staring at the screen, his jaws clenched firmly together. A small pool of blood began to appear on the ground surrounding the camera. Someone stood up. It was an older man. His white hair looked disheveled, as if he'd been running his hands through them repeatedly. He began power-walking his way to the door, keeping his head down. Others, galvanized by his example, similarly rose from their seats to exit the room. "NOBODY LEAVES THIS GODDAMN ROOM TILL I SAY SO!" The colonels voice boomed through the room with the force of a fighter jet's engine. Instantly, everyone stopped moving. Finally, the colonel let go of the chair he'd been holding on to throughout the ordeal, and stood up straight. "Sit", he growled. "You, techies. Cut the feed." After a brief shuffle of movement, everyone was back in their seats, and the screen at the front of the room once again showed the static image of the American flag. The colonel took a deep breath. "I don't know what the hell we just saw", he began. His voice was impressively steady, Ali thought. "But I damn well know this: nothing of what we just saw leaves this room. Zero. Zilch. As far as everyone's concerned, Delta Squad B were killed by an IED. They'll be given the works: posthumous purple hearts, state funerals, recompense for the families. Not a goddamn beep about any of...this."  He looked over at the technicians. "Send me a copy of that video. Then destroy the rest. Got that?" The group mumbled their confirmation. The colonel turned his attention back to the rest of the crowd. "Some of you might be thinking that this is a matter of national security. That we need to inform the higher-ups pronto. Well, here's the deal; that's none of your goddamn business. It's mine. So if any of this gets out, any of it, not only will you get fired, I will personally see to it you will never get employed anywhere outside of your local 7-Eleven. " He let the words simmer for a bit. Everyone seemed to be avoiding each other's gaze, like students avoiding a teacher's attention for a difficult question. Finally, the colonel spoke again. "You may leave." As people slowly started filtering out of the room. he turned to Ali. "Ali, go with the techies. Make sure those little rats don't blindside anyone. I want any copies other than mine gone." Ali nodded. "Yes sir." The colonel had already turned away to talk with the other senior officials that had stayed behind. When they stood outside in the hallway, Ali closed the door to the central command room. Then she turned to the technicians. "Head back to the tech bay. I'll meet you there. No wandering, got it?" Despite the fact that they were all significantly taller than her, they kept their eyes down and nodded. After they had left, Ali found a secluded corner in the hallway and pulled out her cell phone. After double checking to make sure no one was around, she pulled up her quick dial menu and chose the third option, and then put the phone to her ear. A male voice answered. "Daniel Selzer, New Tork Times." "Dan? It's Ali. You're not gonna believe what I got for you."

Pettis vs Poirier: A Strange, Bloody, Exhilarating Fight

Conor McGregor is the most powerful promotional force in mixed martial arts. The only other thing any promoter has found that even comes close is nostalgia. This week, Bellator announced an eight-man heavyweight tournament containing only a couple real heavyweights, and only a couple fighters who weren’t thoroughly washed-up. Not to be outdone, Rizin Fighting Federation announced the return of Mirko Cro Cop (age 43) against Tsuyoshi Kohsaka (47).

This is not to pretend that the UFC isn’t just as bad. Over the weekend, it held an event in Norfolk, Virginia, packed to the rafters with recognizable names, albeit ones that ranged from fighters in the twilight of their careers to those simply waiting for someone to take away their licenses.

Andrei Arlovski was there, 18 years and 40 fights into his career, having been starched outright ten times. Yes, one in every four times Arlovski steps into the cage, he’s getting laid out, and now the UFC are actively hiding him from even the permissive Nevada State Commission. Arlovski snapped a five-fight losing streak in a flaccid slog against an opponent who decided to roll his Reebok shorts up into a nappy.

via imgur

Co-headlining the card was the ghost of Diego Sanchez, who was promptly laid out by a vicious elbow from Matt Brown. But breaking through the gloom was the main event between Dustin Poirier and Anthony Pettis. The two world-class lightweights put on a blood and guts brawl that was worth the price of admission but leaves the two men on very different paths.

Dustin Poirier has been undergoing a career makeover in recent months. Ditching the goatee and growing his hair back has turned him from an extra in American History X to one of MMA’s most dashing fighters. More than that, Poirier’s game has been getting smoother as well. The wooden banger who got wobbled by Akira Corassani, and who stood like a deer in headlights in front of Conor McGregor, seems a hundred miles away from this more relaxed, confident Poirier. Rather than getting his hands up high and standing straight in front of his man (as got him caught against McGregor), Poirier now carries his hands lower and moves his head and hides behind his shoulders much better. That’s not to say he’s perfect, but now he’s finding openings for the punching power he's always had, as opposed to simply running in alternating hands. A couple of his counter punches against Eddie Alvarez were beautifully placed.

The story on Anthony Pettis has always been that he likes space to work. Rarely doing much in combinations, Pettis’s lightning-fast body and high kicks are his best weapon standing, but they become much harder to even attempt when his opponent crowds him by the fence. Rafael dos Anjos demonstrated this when he took the lightweight title from Pettis, battering him in the process. Eddie Alvarez had less success but still shut Pettis down by pinning his hips to the fence. Sure enough, Dustin Poirier came out, jabbed and pressured Pettis toward the cage, then changed level and drove Pettis’s hips into the fence.

Much of Pettis’s best work through his career has come from his guard. Very few fighters in modern MMA threaten submissions quite as effectively from the bottom. In some ways, Pettis’s bottom game is a throwback—many fighters rely instead on using the fence to work their way up as quickly as possible. Against most fighters it is advantageous to drag them away from the cage to lessen their chances of getting up, but the triangle/armbar-centric closed guard is far harder to work when crumpled up against the fence. To get a better look at that, it is well worth watching Frankie Edgar’s one-way beating of Yair Rodriguez earlier in the year. Rodriguez works a frantic pace throwing up submissions from his back, but with Edgar driving his head into the fence and stacking his hips he could do nothing.

Pettis made a good go of threatening triangle chokes, even when he needed to throw his legs almost above his head to attempt them, but Poirier's positioning and pressure made it difficult to finish. Pettis showed he wasn’t just a submission threat, though, when he worked in a knee shield to kick Poirier out to his feet, then hit a gorgeous tripod sweep.

The tripod sweep is one of the classics of jiu jitsu but it hasn’t stopped working if the opponent doesn’t mind his manners. Gripping one ankle, the fighter looks to get his foot on the same side hip—this is the part that the top man should be preventing. Once the foot is on the hip the balance can be affected with a thrust of the leg, so the free leg goes behind the opponent’s knee or ankle and he has no way to step as his center of gravity is pushed off his base. Pettis, his younger brother Sergio, and Bellator middleweight Gegard Mousasi have all used this technique well over the years because they are also good at threatening opponents with the up-kick, which can distract from the simple prerequisites of the sweep.

As the two returned to the feet, Poirier pressured Pettis toward the fence and closed the first round out with a lovely flurry which highlighted his aforementioned growth. Looping shots drew Pettis’s forearms out, then linear shots came down the middle and vice versa. The whole thing started with a lovely step-in, lead uppercut. Of all the basic punches, the lead uppercut is the one you see used effectively the least. More often, it occupies a spot as a sort of corkscrew uppercut, thrusting in from under the opponent to raise his head for a straight. Far rarer to see it used as a classical, close-range punch as Poirier did here and as Alexis Arguello used to do so masterfully.

Pettis showed sparks of his famed creativity on the feet. We’re a few years removed from a cage-assisted kick or knee, but he’s still got some interesting looks. Taking a two-on-one grip on Poirier’s right wrist along the fence, Pettis looked to land a high kick on the undefended side. Poirier was wise to this and initially attempted to circle away from the kick before stepping in to swing with his free hand while both of Pettis’s hands were occupied. A two-handed wrist control isn’t commonly seen in the standing clinch in MMA, but Jon Jones was able to use it to set up takedowns, elbows, and body punches against Daniel Cormier and Glover Teixeira. It remains one of those untapped areas of MMA that should see some more detailed exploration in the coming years.

The general rule on fighting in the opponent’s guard is "both hands in, both hands out." Situations where only one arm is inside the opponent’s guard are where the triangle becomes a threat. But with Pettis’s hips caged against the fence, Poirier was able to drop an elbow with his threatened arm and split the former lightweight champion open at the eye. A very unusual position to expect a strike from, and it happened to snicker-snack Pettis’s skin in just the right way. The swatch of blood Pettis left across the canvas in his brief moments on his knees hinted at the severity of this cut.

After taking this elbow, Pettis rolled to his front and Poirier moved to take his back. Taking the back concedes basically all meaningful striking options in order to pursue one very well-telegraphed submission attempt. If an opponent still has the wherewithal to handfight, he gets a break from the beating. Randy Couture knocked Tim Sylvia flat on his rump in the first round of their title fight, hopped on his back, and spent the next four minutes doing nothing while Big Tim recovered his wits.

One of the odd quirks of Anthony Pettis, however, is that he excels from what is considered one of the worst positions in the game—no matter who gets on his back, Pettis seems able to draw that fighter's arm over his head and turn back into him, winding up in his guard. He gave his back to Charles Oliveira, the lightweight division’s best submission artist, on no less than half a dozen occasions and spun back into Oliveira’s guard every time. This weekend’s fight was no different: Even when reeling from blows and blinded by his own blood, Pettis quickly spun back into Poirier’s guard.

After Pettis got off some elbows of his own from Poirier’s guard, the fight took place in spurts of slick rolling madness as each man struggled to keep control of his opponent and keep a hold of his advantages. The next time Poirier was able to take Pettis’s back, he attempted to take top position rather than get bogged down in the handfight and allow Pettis to spin back into his guard again. As he came up on top of Pettis, his legs still locked in a figure four, Pettis tapped out, allegedly to a broken rib.

It was a cracking fight with an unfortunately anticlimactic ending, but it showed how much Poirier has improved. The question of whether Anthony Pettis still "has it" is one that has dogged him since he lost the title. He went from a streak of spectacular victories to record with more misses than hits, but showings against men like Charles Oliveira and Jim Miller remind us what a force he can be when he is allowed to fight his preferred sort of contest. A record of 2-5 in his last seven fights is undeniably a problem and says that either something of Pettis has left him, or that his shortcomings are far too well known and he must learn some new tricks.

In the aftermath of this fight, Poirier remarked that it was a broken man and not a broken rib that brought about the submission. Unless Pettis can turn it around for at least a couple fights on the trot, that quip could wind up haunting him.

Check out Jack’s website and extended video previews at FightPrimer.com and follow him on Twitter @JackSlackMMA.

Pettis vs Poirier: A Strange, Bloody, Exhilarating Fight published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

Pettis vs Poirier: A Strange, Bloody, Exhilarating Fight

Conor McGregor is the most powerful promotional force in mixed martial arts. The only other thing any promoter has found that even comes close is nostalgia. This week, Bellator announced an eight-man heavyweight tournament containing only a couple real heavyweights, and only a couple fighters who weren’t thoroughly washed-up. Not to be outdone, Rizin Fighting Federation announced the return of Mirko Cro Cop (age 43) against Tsuyoshi Kohsaka (47).

This is not to pretend that the UFC isn’t just as bad. Over the weekend, it held an event in Norfolk, Virginia, packed to the rafters with recognizable names, albeit ones that ranged from fighters in the twilight of their careers to those simply waiting for someone to take away their licenses.

Andrei Arlovski was there, 18 years and 40 fights into his career, having been starched outright ten times. Yes, one in every four times Arlovski steps into the cage, he’s getting laid out, and now the UFC are actively hiding him from even the permissive Nevada State Commission. Arlovski snapped a five-fight losing streak in a flaccid slog against an opponent who decided to roll his Reebok shorts up into a nappy.

via imgur

Co-headlining the card was the ghost of Diego Sanchez, who was promptly laid out by a vicious elbow from Matt Brown. But breaking through the gloom was the main event between Dustin Poirier and Anthony Pettis. The two world-class lightweights put on a blood and guts brawl that was worth the price of admission but leaves the two men on very different paths.

Dustin Poirier has been undergoing a career makeover in recent months. Ditching the goatee and growing his hair back has turned him from an extra in American History X to one of MMA’s most dashing fighters. More than that, Poirier’s game has been getting smoother as well. The wooden banger who got wobbled by Akira Corassani, and who stood like a deer in headlights in front of Conor McGregor, seems a hundred miles away from this more relaxed, confident Poirier. Rather than getting his hands up high and standing straight in front of his man (as got him caught against McGregor), Poirier now carries his hands lower and moves his head and hides behind his shoulders much better. That’s not to say he’s perfect, but now he’s finding openings for the punching power he’s always had, as opposed to simply running in alternating hands. A couple of his counter punches against Eddie Alvarez were beautifully placed.

The story on Anthony Pettis has always been that he likes space to work. Rarely doing much in combinations, Pettis’s lightning-fast body and high kicks are his best weapon standing, but they become much harder to even attempt when his opponent crowds him by the fence. Rafael dos Anjos demonstrated this when he took the lightweight title from Pettis, battering him in the process. Eddie Alvarez had less success but still shut Pettis down by pinning his hips to the fence. Sure enough, Dustin Poirier came out, jabbed and pressured Pettis toward the cage, then changed level and drove Pettis’s hips into the fence.

Much of Pettis’s best work through his career has come from his guard. Very few fighters in modern MMA threaten submissions quite as effectively from the bottom. In some ways, Pettis’s bottom game is a throwback—many fighters rely instead on using the fence to work their way up as quickly as possible. Against most fighters it is advantageous to drag them away from the cage to lessen their chances of getting up, but the triangle/armbar-centric closed guard is far harder to work when crumpled up against the fence. To get a better look at that, it is well worth watching Frankie Edgar’s one-way beating of Yair Rodriguez earlier in the year. Rodriguez works a frantic pace throwing up submissions from his back, but with Edgar driving his head into the fence and stacking his hips he could do nothing.

Pettis made a good go of threatening triangle chokes, even when he needed to throw his legs almost above his head to attempt them, but Poirier’s positioning and pressure made it difficult to finish. Pettis showed he wasn’t just a submission threat, though, when he worked in a knee shield to kick Poirier out to his feet, then hit a gorgeous tripod sweep.

The tripod sweep is one of the classics of jiu jitsu but it hasn’t stopped working if the opponent doesn’t mind his manners. Gripping one ankle, the fighter looks to get his foot on the same side hip—this is the part that the top man should be preventing. Once the foot is on the hip the balance can be affected with a thrust of the leg, so the free leg goes behind the opponent’s knee or ankle and he has no way to step as his center of gravity is pushed off his base. Pettis, his younger brother Sergio, and Bellator middleweight Gegard Mousasi have all used this technique well over the years because they are also good at threatening opponents with the up-kick, which can distract from the simple prerequisites of the sweep.

As the two returned to the feet, Poirier pressured Pettis toward the fence and closed the first round out with a lovely flurry which highlighted his aforementioned growth. Looping shots drew Pettis’s forearms out, then linear shots came down the middle and vice versa. The whole thing started with a lovely step-in, lead uppercut. Of all the basic punches, the lead uppercut is the one you see used effectively the least. More often, it occupies a spot as a sort of corkscrew uppercut, thrusting in from under the opponent to raise his head for a straight. Far rarer to see it used as a classical, close-range punch as Poirier did here and as Alexis Arguello used to do so masterfully.

Pettis showed sparks of his famed creativity on the feet. We’re a few years removed from a cage-assisted kick or knee, but he’s still got some interesting looks. Taking a two-on-one grip on Poirier’s right wrist along the fence, Pettis looked to land a high kick on the undefended side. Poirier was wise to this and initially attempted to circle away from the kick before stepping in to swing with his free hand while both of Pettis’s hands were occupied. A two-handed wrist control isn’t commonly seen in the standing clinch in MMA, but Jon Jones was able to use it to set up takedowns, elbows, and body punches against Daniel Cormier and Glover Teixeira. It remains one of those untapped areas of MMA that should see some more detailed exploration in the coming years.

The general rule on fighting in the opponent’s guard is “both hands in, both hands out.” Situations where only one arm is inside the opponent’s guard are where the triangle becomes a threat. But with Pettis’s hips caged against the fence, Poirier was able to drop an elbow with his threatened arm and split the former lightweight champion open at the eye. A very unusual position to expect a strike from, and it happened to snicker-snack Pettis’s skin in just the right way. The swatch of blood Pettis left across the canvas in his brief moments on his knees hinted at the severity of this cut.

After taking this elbow, Pettis rolled to his front and Poirier moved to take his back. Taking the back concedes basically all meaningful striking options in order to pursue one very well-telegraphed submission attempt. If an opponent still has the wherewithal to handfight, he gets a break from the beating. Randy Couture knocked Tim Sylvia flat on his rump in the first round of their title fight, hopped on his back, and spent the next four minutes doing nothing while Big Tim recovered his wits.

One of the odd quirks of Anthony Pettis, however, is that he excels from what is considered one of the worst positions in the game—no matter who gets on his back, Pettis seems able to draw that fighter’s arm over his head and turn back into him, winding up in his guard. He gave his back to Charles Oliveira, the lightweight division’s best submission artist, on no less than half a dozen occasions and spun back into Oliveira’s guard every time. This weekend’s fight was no different: Even when reeling from blows and blinded by his own blood, Pettis quickly spun back into Poirier’s guard.

After Pettis got off some elbows of his own from Poirier’s guard, the fight took place in spurts of slick rolling madness as each man struggled to keep control of his opponent and keep a hold of his advantages. The next time Poirier was able to take Pettis’s back, he attempted to take top position rather than get bogged down in the handfight and allow Pettis to spin back into his guard again. As he came up on top of Pettis, his legs still locked in a figure four, Pettis tapped out, allegedly to a broken rib.

It was a cracking fight with an unfortunately anticlimactic ending, but it showed how much Poirier has improved. The question of whether Anthony Pettis still “has it” is one that has dogged him since he lost the title. He went from a streak of spectacular victories to record with more misses than hits, but showings against men like Charles Oliveira and Jim Miller remind us what a force he can be when he is allowed to fight his preferred sort of contest. A record of 2-5 in his last seven fights is undeniably a problem and says that either something of Pettis has left him, or that his shortcomings are far too well known and he must learn some new tricks.

In the aftermath of this fight, Poirier remarked that it was a broken man and not a broken rib that brought about the submission. Unless Pettis can turn it around for at least a couple fights on the trot, that quip could wind up haunting him.

Check out Jack’s website and extended video previews at FightPrimer.com and follow him on Twitter @JackSlackMMA.

Pettis vs Poirier: A Strange, Bloody, Exhilarating Fight syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

“What? How did Pierre find out?” —extasiie

the best drunk history episode ( accepting ) // @extasiie

“ he heard us. ”

his voice is raw ; shame has burned through his stomach and made a knot in his throat, and he has been unmoved for ten minutes at least —- seated on the very edge of the bed, arms crossed over his middle and knees pressed together, phone resting beside the one leg that bounces nervously, so stiff that it has cramped and started to hurt. there is no shame in who he loves, but rather in what it makes him —- what it might make others think of him. his body quivers, and his back should ache from this stillness. but he doesn’t feel the pain. he doesn’t feel anything but the intense disappointment of having done something not right —- of having lost something.

their secrecy has not been bliss by any measure ( countless fights over secrecy and rumor and lacking faith have seen to that ), but it had been theirs. free from judgement, unburdened by the potential of discrimination that andrei fears will come of his very - russian father. and that is gone. the secrecy is gone. pierre knows, and in andrei’s mind, despite it being entirely illogical ( he is too anxious for logic ), it means that everyone will know. not because he doesn’t trust pierre, but because it will simply happen.

when his phone buzzes, another message from pierre, it startles andrei enough that his gaze breaks from the floor to look at his boyfriend before him, cheeks unhealthily pale in light of receiving this. he doesn’t want to see what else his friend wants to say, and refocuses, if only for a moment, to finish answering. “ he says he came one night, to drop something off for me when i wasn’t expecting … he heard what we were doing, there’s really —- there’s no mistaking what it was. he knows, anatole. ”

again, except his voice has become a hollow whisper : “ he knows. what if someone else does too? ”