#i know there are certainly nda in play | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cui-nisi · 1 year

Text

Lavender And Cinnamon (Leon x Reader)

•Notes•

Pairing: RE4 Leon x Reader

Summary: You work at a high-end spa called Exotic Luxuries where you’re assigned to take care of the alluring and mysterious Leon S. Kennedy. But late-night sessions can lead to more than just a regular massage…

Warnings: slight cursing, no protection (use protecting!), workplace sex, riding, blowjobs, pet names (‘good girl’), dom. Leon, praise kink, slight nipple play

WC: 6,750

A/N: A bit different from my usual stuff but I’ve been obsessed with this man especially with the release of RE4 so I wrote this one-shot to help get him out of my head (it didn’t work)! I hope you like it!

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes looked over the list of reservations you’d be handling for the day, your boss standing behind the check-in desk mumbling about the shortage of massage oils.

“Seems like the regulars…” you stated as you looked over to watch your boss.

“Yeah…” they sighed, turning to look over at you with tired eyes, “but you do seem to have a newcomer coming in later today. Ensure that you treat them with the utmost respect and professionalism, alright?”

You nodded before glancing back down at the list to see your last and latest reservation set for eight o’clock. “Leon S. Kennedy?” You tested the name, it sounded like a pseudonym as you cocked an eyebrow skeptically, “is that a joke?”

“It most certainly is not.” Your boss finally stood to turn and face you, their expression serious, “they’re a high-class customer, alright?”

You nodded, understanding what your boss was saying. You’ve had your fair share of “high-class customers” from mayors to senators who would come in and reserve a massage. The spa in which you worked had humble beginnings but by the time you were hired the reputation of your spa had grown to become a fairly luxurious business that served people with important backgrounds.

Confidentiality was key with this job; so much so that you were even required to sign an NDA upon being hired. You weren’t sure why it was such a big deal as nothing explicit ever occurred with the patrons, at least not to your knowledge. But you refrained from asking questions and focused on doing what you were hired to do and giving out high-quality massages.

“I’ll do my best to satisfy him,” you proclaimed, your boss offering you a small smile before leaving to carry out their other tasks for the day.

You push aside the ominous ‘Leon S. Kennedy’ as you go about your day, your scheduled reservations trickle in, many of them regulars who you’ve attended multiple times. By the time the clock hits 7:45, your hands are starting to feel sore as your joints ache. You bid your last customer goodbye before going into the bathroom to wash your hands.

“Long day?”

You startle at the sink, turning around to see one of your coworkers entering the bathroom.

“Oh hey, Jenna,” you offer her a small smile before turning off the faucet.

She stalks over to you, her eyes wide with an excitement you don’t trust, “I heard about your last customer.” she says knowingly.

“Okay?” You quirk an eyebrow at her, unsure why she seems so vested in your customer’s affairs.

“You’re not excited?”

“Why should I be? It’s just another customer.”

You watch as Jenna’s eyes widen, an amused smile pasted on her lips as her voice drops to a hushed whisper, “so you really don’t know?”

“No..?”

Jenna chuckles softly to herself before she responds, her voice light, “Leon S. Kennedy. He was hired by the federal government to act as a special agent. Rumors say he was tasked with saving the president’s daughter a few months back when she was kidnapped.”

You stare at Jenna as she talks, her words registering in your head before you give her a dubious look. She was known to stretch the truth at times and you couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at her.

“I’m serious!” she urges after a second of silence passes between the two of you.

“I’m sure you are! It’s just… you gotta understand that that’s a lot of information you dumped on me.” You explain, grabbing a paper towel and drying off your hands as Jenna moves around you to one of the empty stalls.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m just telling you so you know what you're in for, okay? Treat him nicely. I heard he’s easy on the eyes so it shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

You roll your eyes as you exit the bathroom, your voice meeting Jenna’s quiet laughter as you call back to her, “real professional, Jenna.”

As you make your way back to the front desk, awaiting your last customer, you can’t help but let Jenna’s words wash over you. Was she really telling the truth? Why would she lie about something like this?

Your eyes glaze over to the open computer on the front desk before darting to the clock: 7:56. Your customer would be here any minute but your curiosity was eating away at you. You chewed on your bottom lip… one quick little Google search of his name couldn’t hurt, right? Besides, you rationalized it by saying that it was best to be prepared and know your new customer so that you knew how to better take care of him during your session.

Temptation and curiosity made a heady mix as your hands as if automatically, lept to the keyboard and quickly typed in the name ‘Leon S. Kennedy’. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but considering that Leon was a supposed federal agent, you guessed that you shouldn’t have been too shocked to see little information about him online. Being a federal agent must mean that you have to keep a lot of personal information offline, but the lack of information on him could also mean that he’s just a reclusive kind of guy.

You sigh tiredly before looking back up and yelping at what you see. Across from you, in front of the desk, you’re met with a tall man with long light brown hair that slightly shadows his sharp-looking eyes. His narrow nose and small pink lips along with his angular jaw all came together to create a face that could have anyone stunned on the spot.

“I have an appointment.”

His voice almost sends a shiver down your spine. His voice was a bit deep yet not unfriendly, just distant. His tone gave nothing away except pure professionalism despite him being here as a customer and not a worker. Everything about this man just oozed secrecy and you guessed that Jenna was right when she said this guy was a federal agent.

“Of course, eight o’clock for Mister Kennedy, right?” You say, forcing your eyes away from the man and trying your best to remain calm and polite, just as you are with every other customer.

“You can just call me by my name. It seems like you’re fairly familiar with it anyway,” your eyebrows raise slightly until you notice the quick glance Leon sends the open computer on the desk with his name clearly typed into the search bar.

Your eyes widen in horror before you swiftly power off the computer, a wavering smile on your lips as you respond, “I apologize… Leon.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Leon assures, the hint of a smile lifting the corner of his lips as he looks over you, his gaze analytical as if he’s trying to read you with a distant curiosity.

You swallow the dry spit that has collected in your mouth as his gaze stays on you. “If you’ll follow me to the back, Leon. My name is _____ and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.” You state as you lead Leon down a series of dimly lit hallways, remembering that you have a job to do and need to fulfill it as such.

“Nice to meet you, ____.” the man behind you greets, his voice calm and measured as he says your name. “Is it usually this quiet here?” he asks after a second of silence passes.

You do your best not to focus on the way your name fits on his tongue and simply offer him a small smile as you briefly turn around to look at him before answering his question, “we try to keep a serene atmosphere here at Exotic Luxuries. Although since your appointment was a bit later most, if not all, the other workers have headed home for the night.”

You see Leon’s eyes widen slightly an apologetic look flickering over his piercing blue eyes, “I apologize for keeping you so late. I understand the frustrations one can have when having to work overtime… that’s actually the reason why I had to book this so late.”

You shake off his apology, “don’t worry about it. Were you working earlier?” You say carefully, not wanting to sound too interested in his line of work.

There’s a second of silence as your footsteps occupy the space between you and Leon. For a second you worry if you crossed the line, you don’t usually ask your customers about their jobs unless they confide in you first but you can’t help but want to know more about this man… this man who was tasked with saving the president’s daughter, supposedly. You can’t help but be curious.

Luckily though, it doesn’t seem as if Leon is upset with your intrigue as he responds a few seconds later, his voice polite. “Yes, you’re correct. I just got off about 30 minutes ago.”

Your eyes widen, unable to curve the shocked tone in your voice as you blurt out, “you just got off? Jesus, you must be so tired!”

Another second of tentative silence stretches on between you two as you curse yourself out for saying something so obvious. Before you can apologize for your rudeness you hear a quiet chuckle from behind you. Turning around you cast a brief glance up at Leon’s face and see him laughing softly, it’s not a full-on laugh and more of a close-lipped chuckle, but the way his lips curve slightly upwards makes something in you twist as you force your gaze away.

You continue your way through the halls until you eventually stop in front of a door made of glass but with a tint over it that makes it hard for anyone to see anything through it.

“This is where we’ll be having our session for the evening,” you say formally while gesturing to the door, “I’ll give you a few minutes to change out of your clothes. There’s a towel in there for you to use to cover yourself. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Leon nods curtly at you, his eyes gazing at you briefly before he opens the door and heads inside. You watch the way his leather-bound jacket hugs his broad shoulders before the door closes, sequentially cutting off your vision of the beautiful man.

“Get yourself together, _____” you mumble to yourself before quickly walking away to the supply room.

According to the reservation, Leon reserved the first-time package, a promotion your boss was running that allowed new customers to get an hour-long massage at a 50% discount along with 30 minutes free in the sauna room. It was a pretty good deal and had brought in a plethora of new customers who left with a membership. You at least were used to doing it and felt better prepared to not embarrass yourself in front of Leon. You only hoped you could get through the massage without any incidents that would have you fired.

You reach for the supplies you’d need including a lavender and cinnamon scented oil before making your way back to the room you left Leon in. When you take a deep calming breath and open the door you expected to find the man lying face down on the cushioned bench centered in the middle of the room like everyone else. So imagine your surprise when you instead find Leon with his back facing you as he observes the different oils on display on a shelf. You can’t help but let your eyes travel across his bare back, the tendrils of his muscles flexing as he reaches up to grab one of the oils. Your eyes travel lower down his back until they reach the white towel wrapped around his waistline.

My god did he look gorgeous.

As much as you wanted to keep looking at him you had to remain professional. You knocked briefly on the door to alert him of your presence, causing the man to turn his head slightly to you, his voice calling out to you in the small room.

“Sorry, am I not meant to touch these?” he holds up the small oil in his hand.

You shake your head, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind you. “You’re fine. Did you have any questions about them?”

He shakes his head before setting it back down and turning around, striding over to the bench as you begin prepping on a nearby wooden stand.

“I was just curious to read each oil’s scent, I’ve never been to a spa before so…” as his voice trails off you glance back to smile friendly at him but immediately feel your cheeks flush at the sight you’re met with.

In the dim candlelit room, you notice how the warm glow from the tiny flames bathes Leon in their serene glow. The flickering shadows of their fiery nature create patches of darkness across Leon’s skin before being overtaken by light once again resembling a makeshift mirage of shadows. Every flex of his defined muscles is outlined by the shadows they leave on his skin like delicate brush lines dipped in black paint. He truly was a piece of art- a walking canvas.

It takes all your willpower to tear your eyes away before you start drooling as you try to remember what he said and provide an appropriate response, “yeah…um. Each oil’s unique scent can have a different effect on the person using it depending on what they want.”

“Like what?”

You think for a moment before picking up the oil you chose for Leon as you turn to him and force your eyes to meet his rather than glance down at his chiseled body. “This is a lavender cinnamon essential massage oil. The contrast of the sweet and cool lavender with the warm and spicy cinnamon produces an indomitable romantic blend. It creates a calming yet stimulating feeling when massaged into the skin. The scent also restores your mind to a more relaxed state.”

Leon nods at your explanation, a ghost of what you assume to be a smirk crosses over his lips before it's quickly wiped away as he heads over to the bench and sits down.

“Where would you like me to start the massage? We could start on your front or on your back.”

“My front if you don’t mind. I don’t really like having my back turned.”

You nod, somewhat understanding why he’d feel that way if his job always requires him to be on alert. “That’s fine. Do you mind getting under the sheet and removing your towel? I’ll turn around as you do so.” You say gently, turning around.

You hear some rustling sounds before Leon’s smooth voice tells you that’s finished. You turn around to see the sheet covering his lower body, leaving his chest and arms exposed.

“Is it okay if I leave the sheet off my chest?” he asks.

You nod, “that’s completely fine. As long as you’re comfortable,” you move closer to Leon and grab the massage oil before opening it and beginning to lightly pour it over his arms as you explain your movements, “since this is your first time I’ll start off slow. I’m going to pour this oil over the parts of the body you feel need the most attention, okay? For now, I’ll massage your arms.”

Leon listens closely to your instructions, his eyes flick down to the oil that begins to roll down his arm until you reach out and begin slathering the slippery liquid across his warm skin. As soon as your fingers grace Leon’s skin you feel your brain begin to short-circuit. His arms are so firm, it takes you a second to properly grip his arm so that you're massaging him more effectively. You do your best to not imagine how his arm would feel wrapped around you as you begin the session. Instead, you let your eyes wander across his chest (which also turned out to be a bad idea) where you’re met with his broad shoulders and defined collarbone that you want to sink your teeth in. As beautiful as he is you also can’t help but notice various cuts and bruises on his skin, some looking fresh as a red tint surrounds the cuts and a blue color defining his upcoming bruises.

“I’m fine.”

You startle at hearing a voice call out to you. Your eyes quickly flick up to find Leon looking at you, his eyes almost glowing under the light of the candles, and yet his voice has a slight edge to it as he speaks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare…” you trail off, embarrassment flooding through your skin.

Leon studies you for a moment, his whole body still, almost disguising his presence as you try to focus on the massage before he sighs and finally speaks, “no, I’m sorry if that came off rude. I got these from work…”

“Do you always suffer from injuries like these?” you ask, your voice tinted with worry as you furrow your eyebrows.

To your surprise, Leon smirks when he sees the expression on your face. His lips curl up dangerously, subtly, as if amused before he answers. “If I’m lucky. Today wasn’t too bad. They’ll heal.”

You don’t like how dismissive he is of his injuries but you supposed him coming down to a spa was a way for him to try to relax and take his mind off of his strenuous job. You redouble your efforts, determined to give this man the best massage of his life. For a while you’re able to do this, your eyes focusing on his pressure points as you massage his arms. From time to time your eyes glance up to catch Leon already looking at you, his eyes watching you with a glimmer of something that you can’t discern.

“Is there something wrong? Am I applying too much pressure?” you question hesitantly after catching him looking at you for the fifth time.

He shakes his head, his eyes still attached to yours, “no, sorry if I was making you uncomfortable. I guess I was just trying to get a read on you. You seem young, but by the looks of it you’ve been doing this for awhile.”

Did he want to learn more about you? You pushed the thought away quickly, he was probably just trying to make casual conversation. You answered with a small smile, “I’ve always liked making people feel good. As a kid that was in the form of giving my mom really bad back massages that she pretended wasn’t practically cracking her spine,” you see Leon’s chest heave up and down slightly as he chuckles quietly, “seriously though, something about giving someone a massage is just… fulfilling to me. It’s intimate, quiet, and serene. It’s just as relaxing for me as it is for my clients sometimes…”

Leon observes the way your voice becomes softer, and more thoughtful as you speak. He smiles at your words, this time allowing you to see his shiny teeth and you feel your heartbeat speed up knowing you were able to draw that kind of expression out of him.

“I admire your passion. I’m sure this job isn’t easy.”

“‘I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you have to do.”

“Doesn’t matter which one is harder. The point is that you like what you do and you do it well. That requires a lot of patience and discipline. You should take pride in that.”

You feel your eyes widen slightly at Leon’s words, sincerity pouring through his tone.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lecture you…” Leon huffs out a humorless laugh as he turns to look away from you, his eyes tracing the lines on the ceiling.

“You weren’t. I appreciate it, Leon,” you say honestly with a small smile as you finish massaging his arms. You turn around to face the clock that hangs on the wall, “we have about 45 minutes left. Is there any other area you’d like me to show attention to?”

Leon seems to think for a moment, his icy-blue eyes traveling over to you before he speaks, “would you be okay with massaging my legs? My job today required a lot of running and I can tell I’m going to wake up sore in the morning.”

You nod before moving down to his legs and cautiously moving the sheet up until it’s lying halfway across his thighs. You do your best not to stare at his toned legs as you begin pouring more massage oil on him before pressing your thumbs into his calves. You continue massaging the different parts of Leon’s legs, the oil glistening off of his skin while the candlelights reflect a warm glow onto him. You gradually move higher and higher up his leg until you press down on his inner thigh absentmindedly when you're brought back to the present after hearing a noise escape from Leon’s lips.

Fear spreads through you as you quickly pull your hands away from him as if he was a fire.

“A-are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” you ask frantically, your eyes wide with worry.

Looking at Leon however, you’re met with an interesting sight. Rather than the scowl or grimace you were expecting to see you notice a slight tinge of red dusting over his cheeks. Was he blushing? He quickly meets your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed slightly but not in annoyance at you as he speaks lowly, “I’m fine, sorry if I startled you. I closed my eyes momentarily and when you pressed into my thigh it just-” he cuts himself off, promptly clearing his throat and stealing his expression. “I was just surprised is all.”

You look at him, studying his behavior with confusion pooling into your eyes as you speak up hesitantly, “did you… want me to stop? I can always begin working on your back if you feel uncomfortable.”

“No… you don’t need to stop. You’re doing fine, really. I was just… taken aback.” while he speaks politely, you can just barely pick up a shred of something else in his eyes. A flash of… want?

Before you can dissect the look further Leon leans back down and closes his eyes. You take a second to register what just happened before cautiously reaching out and massaging the skin just below his thigh, your brain whirring with thoughts… a lot of them are unprofessional and would most likely get you fired if you acted on them and especially if it was unwarranted. But you can’t help but wonder if Leon didn’t want you to stop because it felt… good?

What would happen if you raised your hand just a bit higher?

Your eyes glance up to look at Leon whose eyes are still closed shut, his breathing even. You glance back down to your hands around his knee and tentatively begin moving your hand higher up on his leg. You stop halfway up his thigh where you had left off and ever so gently press into his inner thigh, his skin folding under your touch. Once again a noise escapes Leon’s lips, but this time you can discern what it is. A quiet small moan slips through his pink lips.

You can barely believe what you’re hearing. You manage to not freak out and continue massaging his thigh, this time adding even more pressure as your thumbs slide over the skin on his inner thigh. Again, another moan escapes Leon’s lips and it’s incredibly sexy.

Before you can continue, however, you see Leon suddenly open his eyes in shock, as if he had been in a daze. His gaze darts over to you, “I’m sorry…” he begins, “I didn’t mean to- that was unprofessional of me. I don’t usually… I’ve never…”

You watch in amusement as Leon begins floundering over his words, surprised to see the seemingly cool-headed federal agent flustered over your touch. With a calming breath, you muster all your strength to prepare yourself for what you’re about to say and pray that you won’t regret it.

With a determined expression, you give Leon a look that stops him from talking, your eyes piercing into his as you speak with an air of confidence despite you wanting to throw up on the inside. “It’s okay. I did it on purpose.” Leon squares you with a confused look as you continue talking, “I told my boss that I would satisfy you. I was instructed to help you relax and to take care of you. And like you said… I’m very passionate about this job.”

You watch as Leon takes in your words, you can practically see the gears in his head turning as he takes in what you’re proposing. “Are you sure?” he asks after a long second, his eyebrows knitted in concern, unsure if you’re being serious.

You nod, “if you can’t trust my words…will you trust my actions?”

The man before you eyes you warily. A specific and stringent tension begins to fill the air, the feeling so palpable that you can practically feel it prickle your skin. You don’t even realize the breath you’ve been holding in your chest as you await Leon’s response until he finally speaks, his voice low and quiet.

“Help me relax, _____.”

That’s all it takes for you to continue your massage, but this time you let your hands roam freely. You start back up at his thigh, your hands sinking into his malleable skin as a small soft huff of air leaves Leon’s lips. You continue your climb up his leg until your hand eventually reaches underneath the towel, you can see the growing tent of Leon’s desires and smile up at the man before looking back down.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing this…” you say softly before pulling the towel off and revealing all of Leon, his bare body completely and utterly at your mercy.

One of Leon’s arms props him up on the bench as he stares at you, a small smirk clearly expressed on his lips. “Impatient?”

“Eager.”

Leon’s eyes glimmer at your words before you rest your hands on the base of his shaft, your attention drifting from Leon’s face down to his pretty cock. It’s perfectly trimmed and curves upwards at a beautiful angle. You can see the faint outlines of his blue veins that run up and down his shaft. You trace your oiled index finger over them delicately eliciting a shaky breath from the man you have cupped in your hands.

You smirk seductively, your plump lips curling upwards before you put your mouth to good use and lean down, your tongue making contact first as it swirls around the pink glistening tip slowly. The taste of Leon’s precum is surprisingly pleasant- or as pleasant as precum can be. You supposed his job kept him in shape along with whatever healthy diet he probably has set for himself.

“That’s it…” you hear Leon praise quietly, his voice warm and intimate. “Do you mind if I hold your hair back?”

You shake your head as you open your mouth a bit more, your lips closing fully around Leon’s tip and sucking slightly. As you do so you feel Leon’s expansive hand entangle itself in your hair, holding it up gently. You open your mouth more, feeling like you’ve teased him enough, and begin to take him in your mouth, his shaft fitting snugly in your mouth. Your hands move from his base to fondle his clean-looking balls while your mouth entertains his cock, you feel his tip hit the back of your throat before you’re able to fully take him in. He wasn’t huge, but he was big enough to have you needing to take a breath after feeling him hit you in the back of your throat.

“Don’t strain yourself.” the statement was supposed to come off as comforting but when your eyes looked up to look at Leon you knew it was anything but. He was teasing you and the now smug smile on his lips was a big indicator of that.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” you snapped back with the same teasing tone in your voice.

You turned your attention back to Leon’s dick before using your hands to pump him from the base, they were lubricated enough from the massage oil to set a quick pace while your mouth latched back on to the tip before you opened your mouth further to take more of him.

“That’s a good girl…” Leon’s gruff voice called out from above you, his hand still in your hair but gripping it a bit harder.

You feel your core ache with need at the praise, oddly satisfied to have this man’s approval as you continue working his cock in your mouth. The texture of his veins slides against the walls of your mouth, and your tongue runs against them, flicking over the long lines. Your hands continue their ministration of pumping the base of Leon’s shaft, they slide over him easily.

From the side you begin to hear Leon’s breathing pick up, the sound harsh and impatient. You continue sucking him for a few more seconds before popping your mouth off of him and smirking triumphantly at him, “don’t strain yourself, now.” you say mockingly as you observe the way Leon has his bottom lip crushed between his teeth, “should I let you cum in my mouth?” you ask with mock innocence.

Before you can revel in your temporary victory at seeing Leon succumb to your mouth Leon sits up abruptly, his hand that was propping him up leaves the bench to lightly grab your chin and bring your lips to his. The movement momentarily shocks you but you quickly get yourself under control and kiss him back eagerly.

Your lips slot together perfectly, he feels so soft against you despite his callused hand tracing your jawline and down to the back of your neck, adding a bit of pressure to pull you closer to him.

“I’d prefer… doing that inside you with your permission,” Leon mumbles into the kiss, his tongue running across your bottom lip before slipping inside your mouth.

“Fuck…” you whisper, too consumed by his lips over yours to come up with something more coherent to say.

You feel Leon laugh slightly against you before he finally pulls back, his lips glistening and wet just like the rest of his body. Your hands absentmindedly trail across his slippery chest, your hands brushing against his pert nipples.

“You…” he says after letting you explore his chest for a minute, “are severely overdressed,” he says before leaning into your space, his mouth traveling over to your ear as he whispers sultrily, “take this off,” he commands you feel him tug at your shirt.

You nod, swiftly discarding your shirt and leaving you in your lacy black bra. For once you’re proud you didn’t wear a sports bra like you usually do despite how comfortable they are.

Turning back to Leon, you’re met with his gaze solely glued to your chest. His hands come up as he gingerly traces the frilly lace on top of your bra. Despite him not touching you yet, your skin burns, eager to feel his strong hands caress and squeeze you.

“Beautiful…” you hear him whisper lowly.

Without warning you see Leon duck down before you lose focus when you feel his tongue poke out to lick over your covered nipple through the lace. The feeling is euphoric as you feel his other hand massage your other breast slowly. After a second you feel his hand leave your chest and travel to your back where he fiddles with the clasp for a second before suddenly the bra hangs loosely from your chest.

“You seem to know your way around a bra…” you sigh, eyeing him with mock suspicion.

His eyes twinkle with something as he leans back to observe you once you let the bra fall from your chest. Rather than answer though, after he’s gotten an eyeful he leans back over to you and pushes his lips back onto you. This time the kiss is slower and sweeter as your lips push and pull against each other. As you kiss Leon’s hands travel up your body until both of his hands are cupping your breasts. He takes a second to feel them, his rough hands warm against your cool skin before his index finger and thumb wrap around your nipples and squeeze them slightly.

You break off the kiss to moan softly, the pressure from his fingers on your nipples sending a string of pleasure through you and down to your core. Leon eyes your reaction, a pleasantly surprised look glimmering in his eyes as he smirks at you. Before you have time to recover you feel Leon duck back down before sucking on your nipple, his teeth nibbling slightly as he alternates between your two breasts. The pleasure and pain blend perfectly and you can’t help but arch your back the more he bites your nipples before soothing the pain with a soft lick of his tongue.

“Leon…” you gasp, your hands landing on the federal agent’s strong shoulders.

“Do you want more, _____?” he asks, taking his mouth off of your hard nipple.

You nod, your eyes staring up at the ceiling as you try to get yourself together.

“I want to hear you say it. What do you want from me, _____?” You feel Leon’s breath hit your ear, the smell of the lavender and cinnamon massage oil taking over your senses and easing the tension in your body.

You wanted this man bad.

With a shaky breath, you tear your gaze away from the ceiling to look down at Leon. “I want you to fuck me.”

At your words of admission, an almost tender smile graces Leon’s face as he presses a quick kiss to your lips, “that’s all I needed to hear.”

Swiftly, Leon has your pants and underwear pulled off and sits on the edge of the bench. He taps his thighs before looking back at you, “don’t worry. I’ll be holding you the entire time.”

You sigh, eyeing him warily before biting your lip and climbing onto him. True to his word as soon as your thighs are pressed to his, his hands latch onto your hips, holding you firmly in place.

“Now just lift your hips up for me…”

Leon’s voice is soft yet stern as he looks down to eye your movements. You carefully lift yourself up before centering yourself. Leon gives you a nod before you sink down on top of him. A loud moan escapes the both of you as your body stretches a bit to accommodate him. Luckily, you were already wet enough beforehand so Leon didn’t need to worry about warming you up. As you both take a second to adjust you latch your hands around his neck, pressing your body against his as you bite back a moan and stare deeply into Leon’s icy-blue eyes.

“Are you ready?” he asks after a second passes.

You nod, “ready.”

You then begin to slowly test the waters, setting a steady pace, and begin riding him. You’re careful at first, letting your body get used to Leon before quickly picking up the pace. The feeling of Leon’s thick cock running deep inside you has you moaning in a matter of minutes as you squeeze him tightly, a tumble of curses falling from his clenched teeth as his hands hold on to you tighter the faster you move.

“Fuck… you feel amazing…” he grunts, his body glistening with both massage oil and sweat as your eyes take in the sight before you.

“You too…” you moan your eyes drinking him in, “you’re definitely the sexiest client I’ve ever had.”

He laughs airly, his eyes opening briefly to look at you, “I’m sure you say that to every client.”

You know he’s joking but you feel the need to clarify to him anyway, “I mean it. I’ve never done this with a client before and… ever since you walked in I’ve had a hard time being professional. That’s why I was so excited when you first moaned when I touched your thigh.”

You see a slight blush cross over Leon’s cheeks. Whether it’s from him having to keep you upright or because of your words you’re not sure, but it looks cute on him regardless.

“Since we’re both confessing. I thought you looked extremely sexy when I first saw you. I actually planned on skipping this because it was my coworkers who had initially signed me up for this but…” he pauses, his eyes full of sincerity as he speaks, “I’m glad I didn’t.”

This time it’s you who’s blushing as you take in his words. Leon simply smiles brightly at you before crashing his lips against yours, his grip on you tightening as you begin moving faster against him, your hips rolling smoothly over his cock. After a few more minutes the heat that has been building in your core finally begins to overwhelm you, your breath coming out in harsh pants as you whisper harshly into the kiss with Leon, “I-I’m close…”

He nods, holding you close before pecking you once again on the lips, his voice quiet and husky as he leans into your ear, “come for me, _____. Let go…”

As if earning his permission your body lets go as the heat envelopes you, caressing your body and filling your entire body with pleasure as you tense up at the intense feeling, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast as you let out a loud moan.

At hearing and seeing your climax Leon quickly follows suit, his eyes squeezing shut, his mouth falling open as a sexy groan fills the air. His breathing is ragged and you feel his hold on you tighten even more. You can feel him fill you up as you begin to come down from your high. You squeeze a bit tighter on him to milk him even more earning a sly smirk from him as he tries to get himself together after finishing.

As you both come back to your senses you can’t help the small smile you have on your face as you gaze at Leon. The glow from his orgasm made him look even more alluring than he already did. You lift your hands to push his light brown hair out of his face. As you play with his hair you feel him grab your wrist lightly before bringing it down to his lips where he presses a feather-light kiss to your pulse point.

“I had a great time,” he says lowly, staring deeply into your eyes.

“Same here…” you sigh, sagging your body against him as his hands wrap around you, holding you in place.

“I think my session is up though.”

You sigh, your ear pressed to his chest as you listen to his heartbeat.

“But I’d like to make a reservation for another session in a few days if you’re available.”

You lift your face off of his chest to stare at him in disbelief, you figured this was a one-and-done deal. “You want to do this again?”

He nods, clearly amused at your reaction as a gentle smile takes over his face, “of course. You were able to take my mind off of my job and that’s a pretty damn hard thing to do.”

You smile widely at the man before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “I’d be honored to take you on as a client, Leon S. Kennedy.”

Leon chuckles as he kisses you back before pulling back and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You know you still have your free sauna that comes with your package. You could redeem that for your next session.” You inform with a smile.

Leon looks at you before a twinkle appears in his eyes as he pulls you closer to him, his arm wrapping more protectively around you as he speaks softly, “as long as you join me… I’d be down for anything.”

You seal the deal with a tender kiss, entangled in one another’s arms as the smell of lavender and cinnamon cascade over you, the candlelights flickering gently around you.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon x reader #one shot #smut #re4 smut #re4 leon #re4 x reader #re4make #re4 #video games #x reader

222 notes · View notes

unclewaynemunson · 9 months

Note

Jeff is one of my favorite characters and I think we should start a post of all our favorite Jeff headcanons. He and Freak get left out in almost every Eddie-centric fic I read, with his "best friend" being either Gareth or Chrissy, and I'm tired of it. Jeff is wonderful. Here's my hc's:

- Jeff and Eddie have been best friends since middle school. They started CC and Hellfire together.

- they went to the Snowball together and rigged the bubble machine to spew bubbles during the slow dance songs. The dance had to end early and Jeff and Eddie never got caught

- Jeff's parents loves Eddie. They used to have sleepovers at each other's place almost every weekend.

- Jeff was the first person Eddie came out to. Jeff tried to be surprised and "that's great, man, thanks for telling me!" But Eddie saw right through that.

- Eddie is afraid of geese and spiders. Jeff thinks this is fucking hilarious.

- post-Vecna, Jeff is the one Eddie reconnects with first. Eddie tells him everything, despite the NDAs and Steve's warnings. Jeff believes him, because he knows there's wacky shit going on in Hawkins, and he's seen Eddie's wounds.

- they have that kind of friendship that nothing can break. Even if they don't see or talk to each other for years, because Life Happens and people lose touch, they'll always have part of themselves carved out for their best friend.

Ok, that's all I got for now, and sorry for the long ask! I just love Jeff so much and he (and Freak, too, because Freak gets ignored because of fatphobia) deserves just as much love and attention as Gareth gets.

What are your Jeff and Eddie headcanons?

I am loving this Jeff love and your headcanons, thank you so much for sending this to me!!! <3

I think with Unnamed Freak things are a bit different bc, yaknow, he doesn't have a name. For me at least that makes me hesitant to write about him so I don't wanna go as far as to say it's all bc he's fat (even though I'm not gonna deny that that probably also plays a part in how popular he is in this fandom urgh). Anyway, yes this fandom certainly does Jeff dirty. I think it's this gross combination of racism and people copying a lot from already existing stories, characterizations and headcanons without much critical thinking of their own (which baffles me, if you're creative enough to write a story please use that creativity for some originality ffs). Anyway, this is gonna turn into a rant again can you tell I'm still annoyed? so let's turn to something more positive now, like my headcanons for our beloved Jeff:

He was the first person in Hawkins (after Wayne obviously) that Eddie got close to. For Jeff it was kinda the same, being a black, nerdy boy in this town had been very isolating for him and Eddie was his first real friend.

Unnamed Freak made their duo into a trio a bit later. All the others in the group (including Gareth) were Eddie's "lost little sheepies" who he sought out to protect. This means that Jeff and Unnamed Freak are the only people who don't borderline worship Eddie but see him (and love him) for who he is including all his flaws. They're also the only ones not afraid to call him out on his bullshit.

Jeff's mom is really cool. Her name is Pauline and she's not like Jeff at all (she was a cheerleader in high school). Despite their differences they love each other a lot. (Jeff's mom is actually heavily featured in one of the fics I wrote so I got her all fleshed out lmao)

He has two little twin sisters. They're friends with Erica, one of them is one of her friends we meet in the mall in s3. He has this typical hate-love relationship with his sisters: they fight a lot, but at the end of the day, he would die for them.

HE'S BISEXUAL

While he can't wait to get out of Hawkins and to a place that'll be more accepting of him, he doesn't want to move too far away from his family.

He's the most loyal friend in the world, 100% a ride-or-die kinda guy

While he does love metal a lot, his guilty pleasure is Tina Turner

Tell me all your Jeff headcanons i wanna hear more about him!

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #jeff stranger things #corroded coffin #stranger things

107 notes · View notes

creatorofuniverses · 3 months

Text

Day 23 – Monster

Today's prompt is "share or short: a story with a nonhuman/monstrous character". And I know the challenge said "short", but this prompt took hold of my imagination earlier in the month and I may or may not have ended up with a new story's inciting action, which is (checks notes) over 4k words long. Enjoy?

________________________

Casper knew that working the night shift wasn’t going to be much fun. He knew that working the night shift as a janitor was going to be even less fun. He had expected some long nights and some dull work from the start.

What he hadn’t expected was to be cleaning fucking Area 51.

Not that he was allowed to call it that. They’d been very specific on that point, actually, amongst others. This was an alien-free facility, and also a joke-free facility. It practically said so on his contract- the long, complicated, very intimidating contract he’d read through and eventually signed; and that was only after signing the NDA. He should have known that there was a catch when he saw how much they were willing to pay him for what would otherwise be a minimum-wage job. By the time he could work out whether he was getting cold feet or not, he was in too deep. The pay was very good. He tried to repeat that to himself as he clocked in for his first real day (night) on the job, his shoulders a little tense as he swiped the key card and wheeled the cart with all his cleaning supplies out into the hallway.

The dark, empty, extremely foreboding hallway. He’d been trained by the daytime staff earlier in the week, but he hadn’t gotten to see much of the place then, and it certainly hadn’t looked like it did now. Something about the building being empty, like a dead husk-

“Okay, wow,” he muttered aloud to himself. “No. You gotta cut that shit right out, man.” Casper shook his head, admonishing himself as he set off at a clipped pace towards his first room to clean. The last thing he needed was to let his brain go off on wild imaginings when it didn’t have to. Just because he was the only one on the nighttime cleaning staff until the early morning didn’t mean that he was alone in the building. There was a security office… somewhere… and he was certain that they were keeping an eye on things.

They had to, because this place was full of monsters.

Which was a fact that Casper’s brain kept trying to remind him of, and one that he kept pushing away, lest it encourage the aforementioned wild imaginings. He hadn’t believed it, not even after all the paperwork and the almost dramatically serious briefings, not until he’d seen it for himself. Monsters were real, and they were housed here, studied and contained lest they be a danger to the world outside. Creatures of myth and legend from around the world, all under one massive roof in a facility buried deep in the hills of Bumfuck, Nowhere.

Where one new and extremely nervous janitor was tasked with cleaning up the place. Not the enclosures themselves, thankfully, or Casper would have run screaming, NDA or not. No, he was just here for the normal, human areas, or so Casper kept telling himself. No need to freak out. This was practically like any other job.

Telling himself that about once a minute, Casper put in some headphones, started a playlist, and did his best to ignore his anxiety. He did a fairly good job for a while cleaning up the offices- wiping down desks, vacuuming and mopping, restocking the cheap coffee supplies and such. Same with the break rooms, the meeting rooms, the lobby. He did the basics in the labs, careful not to touch anything but his mop and the garbage cans. He then worked on the hallways for a bit. He even cleaned all the bathrooms, on every floor, before he had no choice but to face the areas he’d been dreading the most: the observation decks and prep rooms.

He approached the entrance to the nearest enclosure with his cleaning cart, his hands clenched, white-knuckled, along the handlebar. Even the soothing music playing in his ears couldn’t distract him from his nerves at the thought of going in there. “Nothing’s gonna get you,” he promised himself under his breath, willing himself to stop being such a scaredy-cat. Sure, the rooms on the other side of that door looked out into one of the many monster enclosures in the building, and sure, the prep room beneath the observation deck could lead out into the enclosure… but he wouldn’t have to go out there. And the rooms were secure, they had to be, because all those important scientists and guards and whatever were in them all the time without being in danger of whatever beast they were studying. So Casper would be perfectly safe.

He would have to deal with maybe seeing one of the monsters though. Out in its huge enclosure. In the dark. There was no getting around that.

Casper let out a long, shaky breath, mumbled, “Fuck it,” and opened the door.

The sight inside was, thankfully, underwhelming. He flicked one of the light switches and a single row of fluorescents kicked on, revealing a truly mundane setting. A handful of chairs lay scattered about, and a row of countertop stretched across a long wall made up mostly of windows. That led out into the enclosure, of course, but it was dark out there, and with the light on inside, Casper couldn’t see anything but his own reflection.

Heart pounding, but knowing it would haunt him if he didn’t, Casper inched up to the windows and peered out into the enclosure, cupping his hands around his eyes to block the light and see a little better. He was half expecting a jump scare, but nothing leapt up. Nothing even really moved. In the dim light from the observation deck, he could just barely see a large lump out in the far corner of the enclosure, still and likely (hopefully) asleep.

It took him a little while to peg which monster this was; the label on the door read “M-9” but that didn’t mean much to somebody who had only recently been hired. He wracked his brain for the creatures he had recognized in the briefings in an attempt to discern the true shape of the far-off lump. Eventually, he realized it looked like a lion out there, curled up asleep- a lion the size of a small building, of course, with an uncannily human set to its slumped shoulders. Probably the sphinx, then. Not the most terrifying thing in here, but that bar was set pretty high. He still wouldn’t want to see it up and about.

Casper inched away from the windows again and let out a long breath. Okay. He was going to do his best to clean quietly, and maybe if he was lucky, it would stay asleep and he could get through this task without any trouble.

Of course, that was easier said than done. He did still have to clean, and there was a set amount of noise that was bound to go with that. The tables and floor of the observation deck were cleaned fairly quickly and quietly, but that wasn’t the only area he needed to attend to. Getting his cart down the wide stairs leading to the prep room below made enough of a cacophony to wake the dead, and his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest by the time he got down there. He cast a quick look towards the enclosure, but there were no windows down here to see out of- just shelves full of containers and tools, a large chest freezer that hummed out a low drone, and the sickly-sweet smell of raw meat. This must be where they kept the sphinx’s food; because a butcher’s shop was exactly what he wanted to smell when he was already crawling out of his skin with nerves.

Shaky hands hastily grabbed the mop out of the cleaning cart, followed by a number of swears as an assortment of similarly pole-shaped cleaning apparatuses came free along with it and fell to the side. Whatever- he would grab them later, he needed to smell the overwhelming scent of cleaning solution now or he was going to lose his nerve entirely.

Casper dunked the mop into the bucket of soapy water attached to the end of the cleaning cart, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as the sinus-clearing smell of bleach beat back the raw meat stink. The wet mop slapped onto the laminate floor and he pushed it back and forth vigorously, as if he could thereby push away his own fear.

He tried to focus on the music coming through his headphones, the feel of the mop pushing against the floor, the embarrassment he would feel if he let himself be scared away from a solid job after only one night of work. This was fine, he was overreacting. He was safe in here, he literally just had to clean the floor and then he could drag his cart back up the stairs and move on. Maybe he would figure out a better way to do that in the next enclosure. Maybe he’d ease into this whole thing. Maybe…

Maybe he could hear something behind him.

Casper whirled around, heart in his throat. He whipped off his headphones and slung them around his neck, straining his ears to listen. At first all he could hear was the quiet, tinny sound of the music still playing, the thumping of his heart against his ribs, his shallow, almost-silent breathing. But then he heard it again, a scraping sound, coming from the big metal door that would lead out into the enclosure.

Calm down, he told himself, feeling just this side of a panic. It’s probably just that… that thing, moving around outside. I’m sure it can’t open the door. He looked, just to make sure, and his breath caught in his throat, his eyes wide and his pulse pounding in his ears.

Sure, the door was too small for something the size of that sphinx to get through, and he doubted they’d made a doorknob that a monster could use on the other side. But inside, in here, instead of a doorknob there was a long push-bar… and right now a bunch of brooms had fallen against that push-bar… and the door was cracked.

Casper barely managed to think Oh shit, I fucked up before a couple of long, sinister claws the length of kitchen knives scraped through that crack and dug into the door.

What happened next happened in seconds. The door was ripped off its hinges with a horrible, metallic shriek. Casper dropped the mop and bolted, scrambling to get around his cleaning cart and back up the stairs. He’d barely made it to the bottom step when an enormous paw – no, hand, clawed and padded but long, strangely human despite being the size of a bed – thrust itself through the door and into the room.

The paw-like hand whipped back and forth rapid-fire, like a cat batting at a toy, and one of the sweeps caught Casper full on. He was thrown from the stairs and into the shelving, crumpling to a heap on the floor with a wet gasp as heavy containers rained down around him, banging into him mercilessly where he lay.

Get up get up GET UP his mind screamed, but his body wouldn’t respond. His shoulders and back were throbbing angrily from where they’d smacked into the shelving, and his legs and arms stung in multiple places from getting hit with the contents of the shelves. He shifted, trying to get one arm under himself so he could push himself upright, and bit back a whimper. If he could just stay quiet, maybe it wouldn’t be able to find him, to get to him…

He pushed himself up onto one elbow and had to pause, sucking in as silent of breaths as he could. He froze as the giant, clawed hand that filled most of the room retreated as quickly as it had come.

A sudden, reckless hope flooded through him. It couldn’t fit in here, of course it couldn’t, maybe this was the end of it.

Then a golden, gleaming eye came out of the darkness beyond and filled the doorway. A cat-like pupil stared straight at Casper as a low, rumbling growl, something more out of Jurassic Park than anything else, filled the air from the ground up. Casper’s mind went blank with fear even as the eye retreated and the hand returned, reaching for him.

Casper rolled over onto his side, twisting away from that giant grasp with an exhalation that would have been a noise of fear had he been any less breathless. His movement tucked him closer to the shelves but couldn’t get him far enough- a claw snagged against the back of his shirt, scratching a line down his back that did pull a high noise of pain from him. Then that claw pulled, dragging him across the floor, the laminate still slick with cleaning solution and offering him no purchase even as his hands desperately scrabbled for something, anything to hold onto.

It was no use. The enormous hand behind him pushed everything out of its way by dint of its sheer size, before dragging him out of the prep room entirely.

Smooth laminate gave way to gritty sand, and Casper’s skin grated against it painfully for a few agonizing moments before all the movement stopped. Heaving for breath, he scrambled to his hands and knees, eyes locked on the ragged square of tepid light defining the open doorway a few yards ahead of him. He only managed to crawl a foot or two in that direction before that huge, paw-like hand batted at him again.

It felt like being hit by a truck. Casper’s body rolled across the uneven ground, flipping him over to his back. His lungs burned, heaving to suck breath into his battered chest, and he couldn’t move for what felt like an agonizing length of time, but what was probably only a few seconds. Eventually his eyes opened, though he immediately wished they hadn’t.

The sphinx loomed over him. He could just barely see it, its contours faintly limned in the weak light coming from the observation deck above, the prep room he had been dragged out of. Powerful, furred haunches, eerily human shoulders, glinting golden eyes amongst the outline of a large mane, all bigger than he could ever have imagined. The clawed fingers digging into the ground next to him were nearly as long as he was tall.

Even though he knew it wouldn’t work, sheer fear and panic made Casper scramble to his feet the minute he had his breath again, frantically backpedaling only to be knocked over within seconds by those huge, sharp fingers. He landed on his side, curling up and throwing his hands over his neck as an enormous index finger nudged harshly at him with the back of one knuckle, pushing him around with ease. Casper’s mouth tasted like blood and grit; he was pretty sure he’d split his lip at some point, god knows when, and the sand was getting everywhere.

At this point he was fairly certain, in the cold, detached way of somebody immersed in shock and terror, that he wasn’t going to live long enough for the sand to be a problem. The sphinx’s motions reminded him of nothing more than a cat toying with a mouse, before…

Oh god, he didn’t want to be the mouse.

The air above Casper was displaced, and he could all but feel the monster looming overhead. As much as he didn’t want to, he couldn’t help but looks up at his approaching death, his eyes wide and wet behind an arm still thrown across his neck. Closer now, mere feet above him, the features of the sphinx’s face were suddenly thrown into clarity. An enormous but distressingly human face looked down at him, almond-shaped eyes with those cat-like pupils staring dispassionately, a human mouth flat and uncaring. Hair grew out from every side of the face, forming a mane. The nose looked caught between human and feline, curved but stubby at the end, the texture and curve of a cat’s nose growing seamlessly out of what otherwise might be considered skin.

That strange nose, wide as one of the crates in the prep room, got so close to Casper that it eclipsed most of his view. He froze, heart rabbiting in his chest, as it sniffed him, great gusts of air sucked into unfathomably large lungs.

Then the enormous face above Casper tilted, and his vision was filled with huge lips, which drew back to reveal long, sharp teeth, that parted and-

“No!” he screamed, curling up into a quivering ball again, as if that could protect him from certain doom. “No, no, god please, no!” His voice was ragged, higher pitched than he’d ever heard himself sound before, tight with pain and fear. “Please, don’t… oh god, please…”

The begging devolved into breathy sounds of terror as he waited for teeth to stab through him, waited for the monster in the dark to gobble him up.

It didn’t happen.

Shaking and tense, Casper uncurled a minute amount, making himself look up again and fully expecting to see those teeth closing in. Instead, the face of the sphinx had retreated somewhat. It was looking down at him, head cocked to one side, as if… confused? Well, that would make two of them.

But a moment of confusion was better than a moment of painful death, and Casper’s terrorized brain frantically tried to figure out what had changed. Was it his begging? He supposed he hadn’t talked to it, why would he have talked to it… were the words what had caught its attention?

“Do… do you…” he stammered, still curled up. Even so, he flinched tighter as it leaned down closer. Wetting his lips (oh, gross, definitely blood and sand) he made himself talk more. “Do you understand m-me?”

It didn’t seem to, at least not as far as he could tell. Its brow was furrowed slightly, but no trace of understanding passed across that oversized face. It opened its mouth – it took all his willpower not to close his eyes again – and emitted a series of horrific sounds. Growling, low enough to shiver through Casper’s chest at this proximity, was modulated into a variety of tones- a warped kind of speech, or music maybe, if music made you feel like you were about to be the first person killed in a sci-fi horror movie.

Regardless, it explained nothing at all to Casper.

“I,” he squeaked out, shaking his head frantically. “I-I don’t-”

He didn’t get to finish. Letting out a huff, the sphinx leaned down, closing the space between them in a fraction of a second.

Then it opened its mouth and clamped its teeth around Casper, lifting him off of the ground entirely.

Casper screamed, any thoughts of communication disappearing in the wake of this new, life-threatening development. His hands scrabbled at the teeth pinning him, sliding off of slick enamel before hitting gums. He was too far gone to even be disgusted, he was only afraid, afraid of those teeth closing in and piercing straight through him, of being swallowed up by the monster that already had him halfway in its mouth. “No, please,” he sobbed, tears flowing from eyes wide and unseeing. It didn’t even matter- the monster had turned away from the light, plunging him into darkness. He could only tell they were moving by the rush of air. “Oh, god, please…”

Another shriek was pulled from him as he suddenly plummeted, still caught between sharp teeth, only to be unceremoniously dropped onto the ground. He lay there limp, limbs numb and buzzy with adrenaline, tears still leaking out of his eyes. He pinched his eyes shut and sobbed, curling up and weakly shielding his head. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. If it was going to eat him, he almost wished it would just get it over with.

He felt rather than saw it lean in close, felt its warm, humid breath wash over him. A yelp of surprise blurted out as, instead of teeth, he felt a tongue licking over him; it was rough, and dry, more like a cat’s tongue than a human one, though big enough to cover his entire side with one swipe. He shuddered beneath it, uncomfortable and terrified, so unsure of what was happening.

A low rumble started up behind him as the sphinx licked away the sand covering him, a sound deep within a cavernous chest somewhere in the dark; but this wasn’t the growl from earlier, nor was it the attempt at speech.

It… it sounded like… purring?

While Casper’s heart still did its damndest to put him in cardiac arrest, the terror ebbed away from his mind a minute amount, making space for confusion once again. Purring was a good sign, probably, right? It would mean the feline monster was content with this in some way, even though he wasn’t being eaten. Actually, maybe the licking didn’t have anything to do with eating him, or at least he hoped not. It seemed less about tasting and more about… grooming? Was that what was happening here? Was the enormous monster with the razor-sharp claws and huge teeth now just grooming him?

It was so ridiculous that Casper actually blurted out, “Ha!”, a bark of a laugh that bordered on the hysterical more than the amused. He flinched as that huge tongue sought out his face, licking along his cheek and up into his hair, accompanied by a feline vocalization that almost seemed to be in response to his little outburst. Hell, maybe it was.

He couldn’t do anything except lie there and hope for the best, not with the monster’s mouth so close to him. He weathered the tongue bath, only breaking the silence with quiet sounds of pain when that rough tongue scraped over new cuts. Tears from his brief but fervent bout of sobbing dried on his face, and the longer things went without him dying horribly, the more space his mind had to consider the possibility of escape.

There had to be a way out of this. Maybe the monster would let him go after this, or he could sneak away once it fell asleep. His heart lurched in his chest, hope flaring so suddenly and so keenly that it almost made him nauseous, as he suddenly remembered the fact that there were security guards in the building. All the enclosures had cameras, surely by now somebody had seen what had happened to him. They could come help him, or even call somebody who could figure out a way to rescue him before things went south again. They had to.

He strained his ears, trying to hear if anybody was coming. All he heard was a low, rumbling purr, so close and so pressing that it almost felt like a physical blanket of sound around him. Hard to hear anything through that, he told himself, and tried to stave off the sharp disappointment that a rescue wasn’t happening yet. Soon, surely, somebody would come.

Right?

A noise of surprise squawked out of him as something wrapped around him – fingers this time, not teeth, thank god – and lifted him up. He winced and leaned away as best he could as that catlike tongue swiped over the side of him that had been on the ground and therefore inaccessible moments ago; he couldn’t actually go anywhere though, not with giant, padded fingers locked around him like a vice grip. He didn’t want to tear himself to shreds on its claws trying to wiggle away, either, especially since he couldn’t see a damn thing. It made his heartbeat pick back up just thinking about it.

He expected to be put down after it was done licking him, but he still gasped as he was swept backwards and deposited on the ground. The sand felt gritty and blessedly solid beneath his shaky arms.

Casper tried to get to his feet, entertaining a fool’s hope that he might be able to make another run for it, only for his surroundings to suddenly constrict around him. He was uncomfortably pressed into the thick fur of… its arm, maybe. When he flinched back he nearly got tangled up in its mane, which seemed to surround him, rough hair full of animal stink and suggesting a very close proximity indeed. It was with no shortage of panic that Casper realized he was trapped, tucked close against it where it lay. There was the sound of it settling all around him, and then a long sigh as the purring faded somewhat. It snuffled out one last huff and then seemed to quiet completely.

His mind whirled. It was probably going back to sleep. It was going back to sleep with him surrounded by it.

He shakily felt his way back towards its arm, wondering if he dared trying to climb up and out over it; but after only a short, panicked scramble, his head hit something solid above him, and it scared him badly enough that he lost his grip and all but fell back to the ground with a pained exhale. It was on top of him too, oh god it was just too big. He wasn’t going to get out of this on his own, not without it moving.

After a few moments letting this fear run its course, he sucked in a shaky breath and risked piping up. “Um?” he said out into the quiet dark. “Could you, um, not?”

The sphinx did not reply. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be totally asleep; that, or it was content to ignore him now that it had him where it apparently wanted him.

Casper curled up on the hard, packed sand beneath him and did his best not to panic. He stared out with wide eyes towards a monstrous limb he couldn’t see, in the darkness of an enclosure he was never supposed to be in. Somebody would have to come eventually. Even if the security guards somehow hadn’t noticed his near-death experience, by early morning the rest of the cleaning staff would show up, and somebody would wonder where the hell he was.

He just had to wait.

#GtWAC #GtWAC prompts #Gt #my writing #treasure of the sphinx #<-tentative title

42 notes · View notes

avacoleman · 4 months

Text

when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either. After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man. As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

@strandtk my beloved. this one is for you 💜💕

chapter 1/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

I'm writing it down on the paper Making a record, like an archive of me and you So when we're reading it later, It'll all come back brand new

New York, NY

Henry marvels at the universe’s capacity for pettiness as he sits at the bar with his signed copy of a book he’s written that doesn’t actually bear his name

He downs the rest of his gin and tonic, his face tightening slightly at the burn of the alcohol coating his throat. He licks his lips, savors the last taste of his drink, and tries to map out in his mind where to go next.

In every sense, he thinks belatedly. His career, this specific night, it all seems to be up in the air and he worries about where he’ll be when it all comes crashing down over him.

Henry lets out a sigh, his index finger tracing the circle of the glass’s rim absentmindedly as he stares at the book he just purchased at the signing nearby.

The front cover seems to mock him. He stares at the wide grin of the latest internet gaming sensation with a rabid fanbase clamoring to have his story immortalized in written word. It’s the latest in a recent string of ghostwritten works Henry has penned that have sucked his soul more than nourishing it.

This wasn’t at all the future he imagined for himself when he graduated from university a few years ago with a degree in creative writing, ready to take on the world.

He glares back at the book, almost in defiance, before grimacing.

“Whatever it is you're reading, let me make a note not to add it to my TBR list. If it’s got you looking like that, I should steer clear at all costs,” a voice says to the left of him.

Given the relative emptiness of the bar and the specificity of the words, Henry knows this statement can only be directed at him.

He bites back saying that technically it’s his book, if only just not his life story. The NDA was ironclad, and spilling his secrets to a perfect stranger while in a slightly buzzed state is hardly the big finish to his career that he had in mind.

He turns toward the voice and startles for a moment, struck by just how good-looking the man seated two stools away is. He catalogs details of his new barmate: a mess of unruly curls, wire-framed glasses, and a frenetic energy that both intrigues Henry and puts him on edge. It crackles in the very air, making Henry instantly disarmed.

But it’s the man’s mouth above all else that Henry can’t seem to tear his gaze away from for more than a few seconds at a time, especially as the stranger smirks as if they’re old friends reuniting at random.

That most certainly is not the case.

Henry knows for a fact he’s never seen this man before. He’s got the kind of face and aura that no one would be unable to recall at once, the kind a person would never be able to forget.

“It’s expected to be an instant bestseller, but we’ll just have to wait and see the list next week,” Henry says, finally finding his voice.

The man lifts his brows, conceding the point. “I’ll put a pin in it for now, then, while the jury’s still out.”

Henry smiles softly and pushes the book aside, ready—in every measure—to be done thinking about the book and talking about it.

He’d much rather set his focus on this man he’s somehow had the fortune of ensnaring in conversation.

Henry perks up a little in his seat. He notices a lanyard around the man’s neck and points it out.

“I take it you’re visiting,” he says, gesturing to the lanyard that disappears under his jacket.

The man places a hand to his sternum, where the corresponding badge must be tucked away.

“Yeah, I’m here on business. I had an all-day convention, but this is actually my last night before I head back home tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Henry says, surprising himself by how this life update of a man he’s only just met hits him.

“You sound disappointed,” the stranger says, that knowing smile painting his lips yet again. Henry thinks it must be something of a trademark for this man. He can only imagine how many people he’s been able to lure in because of it, perhaps without even trying.

“I’m…I don’t know the word for it. Perhaps disappointed will have to suffice.”

The stranger’s face grows a bit serious. He moves over one stool, then the other, bringing them just that much closer.

Henry, for his sake, fiddles with his empty glass to keep himself busy. It strikes him then just how backwards this conversation has been so far.

“I’m Henry. And you are?” he asks, extending a hand.

It feels like such an old-fashioned, antiquated thing to do. He’s not at all surprised by the man’s hesitancy, but an almost skeptical look shimmers in the stranger’s eyes for a beat before he takes hold of Henry’s hand and shakes it.

“Javier,” the man supplies before letting go.

Something settles in Henry’s chest at finally having a name to put to this face he wants to see more of— and perhaps do other things with.

“Javier,” Henry repeats. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

Javier smiles warmly at him, and Henry cannot believe how much a small thing like this is making his heart race. But this connection he feels to this man is so unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. Certainly, he’s come across attractive people over the years, but there’s some kind of familiarity with Javier, an ease, that makes this feel right.

They pass some time chatting about surface-level things, cracking jokes over two more rounds of their respective drinks. Henry learns that Javier is from Texas and works in sales. He, in turn, reveals the not-so-secret fact that he’s from England, but also that he’s been living here for six years after coming to the States post-university and is a writer. Conversation seems to flow as easily between them as liquor does into a shot glass.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Javier asks after about forty minutes, abruptly curtailing their conversation.

Henry opens and closes his mouth, taken aback by Javier’s forwardness and intrigued all the same.

“I know, I know, that sounds like a total pickup line, but I truly do want to know if you’d like to leave this place and go on a mini-quest with me to find some other spot that serves real food. The kitchen’s closed here, which sucks for me, and my sad empty stomach.”

He rakes a hand through his hair before dropping it into his lap.

“I’ve had a crazy long day, and the thought of stale pretzels or peanuts that grubby, drunken hands have touched all night is not cutting it for dinner,” he continues, jutting his thumb towards an admittedly gross-looking bowl of bar snacks.

Henry’s nose scrunches a bit before he looks back at Javier.

“You might find yourself growing bored of me before long. Maybe my charm only exists within the confines of this establishment.”

Javier rests his arm on the bar, leaning his head against his propped-up hand.

“Did someone put a curse on you?” Javier jokes. “Somehow, I sincerely doubt that, but I’d be willing to take the risk. And besides, I think we could find plenty of ways to keep the night from getting dull.”

Javier grimaces and puts his hand to his forehead before running it down the length of his face and dropping it.

“Jesus, I really need to get better at not sounding like I’m trying to make a pass at you.”

Feeling a bit bold, Henry lets out a contemplative sound.

“That’s a pity,” he says, continuing to muster up the kind of confidence he doesn’t typically have. “It was actually working for you.”

Javier swallows hard, his gaze unmistakably drifting from Henry’s eyes to his lips and back again. Henry smirks and breaks away, reaching for his wallet and setting down a few bills to cover his drinks for the night. Javier flags down the bartender and closes out his tab.

“Now, what was this about an adventure?” Henry says as he gets off the stool and slips his jacket back on, hooking his tote bag on his shoulder. He crams the godforsaken book inside. Though, now that it’s responsible for striking up a conversation with this handsome man, he supposes he could be a bit nicer to the thing.

He leads Javier out of the bar, still clutching onto his false bravado. This is so unlike him, but for tonight, he figures he can be someone else.

“You’re the expert of this area,” Javier says. “What do you recommend?”

Henry thinks on it for a moment.

“Well, we’re in New York. Pizza seems like the most logical option, if not stereotypical,” he muses.

Javier laughs. “It’d be quick, hot, and good, so I’m not complaining.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys.”

Javier barks out a surprised laugh and playfully strikes Henry’s arm.

“Oh, you're trouble. A damn deadly combination.”

“And what would that be?” Henry asks, lifting a brow.

“Funny, sharp, and handsome. One might call that being greedy. Save some for the rest of us, sweetheart.”

Henry scoffs as they walk down the street, two women around their age doing a double take at Javier as they go. They quickly turn to each other, talking fast.

“Yeah…I don’t quite believe you’re exactly hurting in that department yourself.”

Javier looks a bit tense, but he quickly relaxes and smiles. “Guess it all depends.”

Henry takes them to one of his favorite pizza shops, a real hole-in-the-wall spot. In Henry’s experience, he finds places like these have the best meals.

They order and grab a table near the back. The bright fluorescent lights are such a contrast to the dimly lit bar, and it only serves to highlight just how good-looking Javier truly is. Now that they’re seated, Henry can’t seem to get his fill of looking at him.

He’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact that Javier can’t stop looking at him either. It makes Henry suddenly very aware of himself, curious what it is that Javier sees when he looks at him.

As they eat, they continue talking, their legs somehow touching under the table, though neither pulls away. Henry isn’t sure who even initiated it, though he supposes it’s very likely they simply just gravitated towards each other. In all fairness, that seems to be the theme of the night with them, and Henry prays that will continue carrying over.

By the time they’re finished, Henry feels a sinking weight in his chest, knowing they’ll eventually have to call it a night and go their separate ways. He practically drags his feet as they leave.

Henry isn’t walking anywhere in particular, but he assumes it must be in the right direction, as Javier doesn’t protest. He thinks perhaps he should get the guy’s phone number or, at the very least, a social media handle, but to do so would feel like putting a definitive end to the night.

Their arms brush on every other step, and a light rain begins to fall. Henry ducks under an awning of a closed store. Javier leans against the grate on his shoulder.

In the light of the neon signs glowing from the storefront next door, Javier is backlit and practically glowing.

“Would I be completely overstepping here by saying that I really want to kiss you right now? That I’ve kinda been wanting to since the very second I saw you come into the bar?” Javier says quietly, his eyes latched onto Henry’s.

This shouldn’t be coming as a surprise, given how quickly Javier cozied up to him earlier. But to hear it so plainly like this is a bit jarring all the same.

“I don’t usually do this sort of thing,” Henry blurts out awkwardly. Why these words have decided to fly out of his mouth at this exact moment, he’ll never understand.

Javier’s eyes widen, suddenly looking unsure of himself.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I had a really great night either way. I shouldn’t have pressed it. I’m sorry.”

Henry reaches out a hand without thinking about it and gently grabs Javier’s jacket.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to. I’m merely highlighting the fact that it’s uncommon for me, and yet, with you, I…,” he trails off, shaking his head. “This is the very last thing I could have seen for myself tonight, but I’d be lying if I said I took issue with how it’s all playing out.”

Javier smiles up at him, swaying slightly as he rocks on his heels.

“I’m glad I could be a happy surprise.”

Henry inches closer, still maintaining his grip. It makes Javier stop moving at once.

“Hopefully, the surprises don’t end here,” Henry says, the words coming out almost like a question as his eyes lock onto the other man’s.

Javier tips his chin up, and Henry takes the leap, closing the small distance between them and pressing his mouth to Javier’s.

The man’s lips are soft and warm, inviting even in the tender way he kisses Henry. He’d been expecting a rushed, heated kiss, given the kindling that’s been burning between them all night, but Henry appreciates this speed even more.

He likes the way Javier takes his time, as if this night is somehow infinite. It makes Henry slow down and truly relish in the moment too.

For all his shortcomings, in the here and now, Henry’s finally managing to get something right.

Javier deepens the kiss, his left hand cupping Henry’s cheek, his body pressed flush against him.

They may be on a busy city street, but as far as Henry is concerned, no one and nothing else exists.

He’s never had a first kiss with someone like this before. It’s as if they’re both relying on each other for sustenance, as if they’re the air keeping the other alive.

When they pull apart, Javier’s eyes are still closed for a moment before he looks at Henry and speaks.

“I don’t want to say goodnight to you.”

Going back to a hotel with a guy he doesn’t know, not even his last name or whatever company he works for that brought him to the city in the first place, is so out of the realm of his typical life.

But looking into Javier’s soft eyes now, he can’t imagine he’d be put in any peril at his hands.

“How far is your hotel from here?” he asks.

Javier smiles a little.

“A few blocks over.”

Just a few city streets separate him from getting his hands on Javier in earnest. A thrill runs up the length of his spine at the thought.

“Let’s go there then.”

Javier’s smile grows, and he pecks Henry’s lips once before leading the way back to his hotel. They pass by a 24-hour pharmacy, and Javier points it out, veering toward the entrance.

“Pit stop. I fully did not expect to be hooking up with anyone on this trip, so we need supplies.”

Henry’s glad for the man’s foresight and pulls open the door for him before going inside, too.

A quick trip to aisle seven and a glorious option for self-checkout gets them back en route to Javier’s hotel.

Henry lets out a low whistle as they approach.

“Impressive,” he says.

Javier rubs the back of his neck. “My company put us up nicely,” is all he says as they head in.

The lobby, with its pristine floor and gold-plated fixtures, is quiet at this hour. The only real sound is their footfalls as they cross the lobby and head toward the bank of elevators.

As they step inside, Henry feels his body craving Javier’s touch at once.

In such a confined space, the urge to push Javier up against the wall is almost overwhelming but Henry fights it off. He’s glad for it, too, when they hear a voice call.

“Hold it, please.”

Javier quickly throws out his arm to keep the elevator doors from closing as Henry pushes the doors open button.

An older woman comes into view a few seconds later. She looks up at them and smiles warmly.

“Aren’t you two just the sweetest? Thank you,” she says.

Javier and Henry smile back at her before settling in again.

“What floor?” Henry asks her.

“Eight, thanks.”

He pushes for her floor, and as the elevator begins to ascend, Henry feels his eagerness climbing, too.

Javier is close enough for him to smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the rain from earlier, making Henry practically ache with want.

He steals a glance at Javier, but the man is staring straight ahead. It at least gives Henry a look at his gorgeous profile before he realizes belatedly that the elevator doors are reflective, and Javier can no doubt see Henry shamelessly gawking at him.

One look at the doors tells him as much as Javier smirks at him. What’s more, the woman seems to notice, too, as she smiles knowingly at him before dropping her gaze.

Henry suddenly becomes very aware of the pharmacy bag in his hands.

Could she possibly know what’s within the confines of it? Suddenly, it feels as if he has a giant neon sign flashing above his head, decrying that he’s about to get laid tonight.

He doesn’t have much time to truly dwell on it as the elevator stops on the eighth floor and the doors open. She wishes them a good evening.

“Have a nice night, ma’am,” Javier says as the woman leaves, and there’s an unexpected faint twang to the last word, an echo of his Texan roots sneaking out. Henry finds it sweet.

As the doors close, Henry lets out a breath when the elevator resumes its journey to the fourteenth floor. Javier encroaches his space suddenly, pinning his hips against Henry’s. He can feel how hard Javier is— a clear promise of what’s waiting for him in just a few moments.

Henry gets a hand in Javier’s rain-slicked hair and kisses him hard as they make their way to the fourteenth floor. He’s breathless by the time the doors open and they get out.

Javier takes a hold of his hand as he leads them to his room. Henry can’t stop himself. He kisses the man again, his back against the door as Javier fumbles with the keycard.

The door gives way, and they go stumbling over the threshold, laughing as they hold onto each other for balance. Henry very nearly loses his footing, but Javier catches him around the waist and keeps him upright.

They hastily slip off their jackets at the door, kicking off their shoes as well. In their haste, Javier’s head clunks back against the wall, and Henry trips over one of their shoes in the dark, tweaking his ankle a little. There’s a moment where Javier gets tangled in his lanyard as Henry tries to help him remove it.

All their smoothness and finesse from their kiss outside has seemingly fallen by the wayside.

“Maybe the room is cursed,” Javier muses, rubbing the back of his head.

“And you laughed off my warning at the bar,” Henry replies. “Maybe kissing each other is the antidote?” he continues, eager to feel Javier’s mouth on his again.

“Totally only kissing you now for research purposes and nothing more.”

“I can respect that. Purely academic, yes,” Henry echoes right before Javier gets him up against the nearest wall, grabbing a fistful of Henry’s shirt.

Henry kisses him deeply, his tongue slipping into Javier’s mouth as the man’s lips part. His hips jerk forward, and he whimpers feeling Javier’s cock against his hip.

One-night stands have never been Henry’s forte. But with such a tempting offer before him, this night from hell is taking a turn.

He walks them towards the bed and falls on top of Javier as the man tips backwards onto the mattress. They shift to the top of the bed, and Javier flips them over. Henry’s hands instantly fly above his head, and Javier takes it as the perfect opportunity to get his shirt off. Henry has zero qualms.

Javier turns on the bedside lamp, and his eyes seem to drink in every facet of Henry in the soft light. Javier reaches out a hand for a second before retracting it. Henry smiles reassuringly and takes hold of the man’s hand, guiding it to his chest.

Javier sucks in a breath, his fingers splayed against Henry’s left pec before gently sliding down his torso, along his abdomen.

“Shit,” Javier says softly under his breath as he stares.

“Why thank you,” Henry muses.

Javier laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t get cocky, sweetheart,” Javier quips, leaning over him.

Henry laughs but stops as he notices Javier’s chain. He hadn’t seen it earlier, the piece of jewelry once buried under layers of clothes, but it fascinates Henry now.

Henry toys idly with the key that dangles from Javier’s neck, his fingers slipping from the thin silver chain to the jagged peaks and valleys of the key itself.

“A piece of home,” the man says, answering the question Henry wasn’t sure he had a right to ask.

His eyes flicker back up to Javier’s face, their eyes locking as he continues to fiddle with the key.

“You travel so often that you require a keepsake?” Henry asks, feeling emboldened to do so.

Javier smiles, lips skewing to the left.

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s stupid, but it helps me feel grounded.”

It’s a candid statement, a level of sentimentality Henry wasn’t expecting but appreciates all the same.

There’s hardly much from his life back in England that he cares to hold on to, but with an entire ocean separating him from home, he can understand Javier’s token.

“It’s not stupid at all,” he assures. “Quite the opposite.”

Something changes in Javier’s eyes, though Henry can’t exactly name it. For a fleeting moment, he wishes he knew this man well enough to gauge his thoughts, to even be free enough to ask for clarity. But he swallows down the question and simply tugs Javier closer to him, their lips meeting in the center of the space between them.

Henry can feel the slight tremble in the other man's body against his. He finds it endearing and—admittedly— a bit of an ego booster. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt someone’s anticipation for him as a palpable thing. It only makes Henry all the more eager to make this night a good one— for the both of them.

Javier kisses him deeply, enough to steal the air from his lungs and make his mind go quiet in a way it hasn’t been able to in weeks. He pours back into Javier, giving just as good as the man gives to him.

He craves more, and his curious hands begin to wander, first at the small of Javier’s back, silently guiding the man to press further against him.

A moan fills the room, and Henry isn’t sure which one of them is responsible for the sound, but it hardly matters. Encouraged, Henry slips a hand under the hem of Javier’s shirt and is instantly rewarded with the feel of smooth skin and toned muscles beneath his fingertips.

He nips gently at Javier’s bottom lip and tugs, their kiss growing rougher, more carnal as their patience wanes, and he clamors to pull off Javier’s shirt.

Javier looks down at him, a few rogue curls sweeping against his forehead, his brows furrowed almost pensively.

Henry takes the opportunity to rein himself in, to get control of his breathing. The task becomes a bit difficult again as Javier runs a slow hand up from his stomach to his chest and settles at the base of his neck, his thumb softly brushing his throat.

Javier leans into him and kisses the journey his hand made in reverse, his mouth making its way from Henry’s neck to his collarbone, to his chest, to his abs. His breath is warm against Henry’s stomach as he exhales just above the waistband of Henry’s jeans.

Henry’s own breathing is heavy, though he doubts anyone would be able to blame him. His skin is still buzzing in every place Javier’s lips landed, and his cock is straining in anticipation of learning his touch too.

“Is it cool if I…,” Javier trails off, and sincerely, from the bottom of his heart, Henry would accept any conclusion for the question Javier doesn’t even ask.

He nods, not trusting himself not to all-out beg for whatever this man has in mind.

Javier’s cheeks seem to flush a little as he nods once, almost as if steeling himself, and undoes Henry’s jeans. There’s something vaguely bashful about it, but in the next breath, Javier’s eyes are focused like a man on a mission.

Needless to say, this bodes well in Henry’s mind. He gets comfortable still against the bed as Javier undresses him completely. He figures he should probably feel awkward being the only naked one now, but as Javier’s gaze roams his body in its entirety with a look of sheer want and hunger, being fully on display like this hardly seems like anything to feel insecure about.

“It’s actually kinda ridiculous how attractive you are,” Javier says.

Henry laughs. “High praise coming from you.”

Javier continues staring at him, his eyes jumping to different places on his body. Yet still, his hands remain at his sides.

“You’ve got me here. You can, in fact, touch me,” Henry prompts.

Javier’s face reddens ever so slightly.

“Yeah, for sure. Totally,” he murmurs.

Henry’s brows furrow. For all his smoothness this evening, Javier seems to be stumbling, his footing no longer secure now that things are well and truly underway.

He takes a tentative hold of Henry’s cock, his eyes widening. He lets go quickly before mumbling an apology. He clears his throat and touches him again, his back ramrod straight.

“Everything okay?” Henry asks after a moment when Javier’s hand trembles a bit but doesn’t move.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

Javier smiles unconvincingly but seems to get back to himself as he starts to stroke Henry.

It’s stiff and mechanical, with awkward fits and starts. Henry shifts against the mattress in an attempt to get a new angle. But he quickly discerns it’s not his placement on the bed that’s making this handjob unenjoyable.

Javier is simply ill-equipped to give one.

“Oh my god,” Henry mutters under his breath.

“You like that, hm?” Javier says, completely misinterpreting his words.

There’s no finesse to his movements; it’s all rudimentary at best.

Henry kisses him, and it’s enough to get Javier to stop his movements.

“I think I’m ready for more,” he says. Henry moves away then and roots around for their purchases.

He takes out the lube and box of condoms, handing the bottle over to Javier.

“I want you to open me up.”

A muscle in Javier’s jaw flexes as he accepts the bottle, their fingertips brushing. It sends a tingle of excitement through Henry, knowing he’ll get to feel them elsewhere in a few moments’ time.

“Cool, yeah,” Javier says, snapping open the bottle. He fumbles with it, and it drops to the bed. He quickly picks it up and squeezes out an obscene amount of liquid.

Henry doesn’t miss the way Javier’s hand shakes a little. He’s about to ask once more if the man is okay before Javier starts coating his entrance.

He squeezes more lube onto his fingers and rubs against Henry’s hole. Henry tries to get his body to relax, but he can practically feel himself leaking lube at this point. He supposes it’s better than the alternative of not having enough lubrication to ease him open, but nothing about this feels particularly sexy.

After a few minutes, Javier works a finger into him. Henry thinks finally, they’ll begin to get somewhere, but Javier fingers him in the most literal, basic sense of the action. His finger pumps in, slips out, then dips back in to repeat it all over again. There’s nothing skilled about it, no switch up even as he adds another finger. It doesn’t feel like he’s even trying to stimulate him by finding his prostate. By the time Javier adds a third finger, it’s clear he’s just completely neglected the idea or simply never had it to begin with.

“We’re good now,” Henry cuts in, keen to put an end to this horrendous fingering.

Javier nods and grabs a condom from the box Henry unearthed before and works quickly to get it onto himself.

Henry sighs and tries to clear his mind and stay optimistic. Maybe this time around, the third time will be the charm, and they’ll manage to get back in sync with each other.

Javier adds even more lube to Henry’s entrance, and at this point, the mental image of what the sheets must look like almost makes Henry burst out laughing. He bites his bottom lip, and above him, Javier does the same as he coats his cock, giving himself a few quick strokes.

Javier grips Henry’s hips as he aligns himself.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

Henry nods, holding onto Javier in turn. He breaks eye contact, staring at a point on the wall just past Javier’s ear as the man slowly enters him.

Javier shudders, and Henry can admit the slide of the man’s cock inside him feels good. It’s been far too long since he’s been intimate with someone, and Henry can’t help but cling to the familiarity of being physical like this.

He clutches Javier’s shoulders and brings them closer together. Javier’s breath catches, and he stays frozen for a moment. Henry rolls his hips forward, silently letting Javier know it’s okay to proceed.

Much like with his fingering, Javier’s thrusts leave much to be desired. Henry wonders if perhaps he might be nitpicking, but this all falls so flat. He tries to get a rhythm going for them, but it’s as if they’re both tuned into different frequencies, their bodies out of step as they move to different beats.

Above him, Javier moans, crashing their hips together.

“You feel so good,” he rasps.

Henry contemplates the ways it’s possible for two people to be experiencing the same moment but have such contrasting points of view.

It’s not that Javier necessarily feels bad. Objectively speaking, his cock fills him up nicely. It’s just that it doesn’t seem like Javier really knows how to use it fully to his advantage. A part of Henry thinks he should speak up and give some tips, but the thought of making this even more awkward keeps him quiet. He opts instead to make some convincing noises here and there.

“I’m so close,” Javier pants.

That makes one of us, Henry thinks tersely as he bucks forward, still holding out some small sliver of hope that Javier will find his groove.

Any potential for that is dashed as Javier finishes with a shudder, his breath raspy in his ear, moaning Henry’s name. Javier takes a few steady breaths before pulling out.

Henry doesn’t spare a moment in pulling the covers over himself, disguising the fact that he didn’t actually reach his end as Javier disposes of the condom and settles into bed again.

Beside him, Javier is looking up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling heavily. He looks thoroughly satisfied, and, if nothing else, Henry is glad to see he actually enjoyed himself.

“Are you okay?” Javier asks, turning suddenly on his side, searching Henry’s eyes. He looks so expectant, his brown eyes looking more like a puppy dog’s, and Henry sees very little point in voicing the truth but he doubts he can convincingly manage a lie.

He splits the difference and smiles, making a noncommittal sound before leaning in and kissing Javier.

This the man is spectacular at, and Henry clings to that to redeem the night. He gets lost in their kiss as best he can, but flashes of their encounter just moments ago keep springing to mind, shattering the illusion.

Javier pulls away first, stifling a yawn.

“Sorry. It really has been a day,” he says.

Henry shakes his head.

“It’s alright. You should get some sleep.”

Javier’s eyes look a bit unfocused as fatigue seeps in further.

“Night, Henry,” he says softly, pressing his lips to Henry’s one more time before closing his eyes.

His face is instantly softer with sleep, and the guilt that trickles throughout Henry for the fact that he cannot stay a moment longer than necessary is immediate.

Henry bides his time, waiting until Javier is in a deep sleep before gingerly climbing out of bed, careful not to jostle it and run the risk of Javier waking to find him scampering off.

When he’s on two feet again, Henry quickly moves about the room, retrieving his clothes and redressing.

He looks one last time at the bed and Javier’s sleeping figure.

This is for the best, he reasons, even as guilt taps on his shoulder once more.

He’s careful in closing the door, turning the handle all the way as he pulls it in behind him. It closes with a quiet click, and Henry holds his breath as he listens for any sounds on the other side of the door. After a few seconds, he feels assured that he’s in the clear.

It would be his luck to find a guy as interesting and attractive as Javier on a night like this, only for it not to end in fireworks but to go up in flames.

The universe truly has a vendetta against him, certain to get in one last laugh at his expense.

~*~*~

Pez HELLO?! Where is the confirmation you haven’t been beamed up to outer space?

Pez If the aliens are sexy then I suppose I can’t hold it against you for your silence

Pez Send proof of life or I am calling the authorities

Pez Drink lots of water, my love xoxo

Henry

Negative on the sexy aliens. However, I must confess to making contact with a very attractive man. Does that constitute as out of this world enough for you?

Henry sees three dots appear and vanish for the briefest of seconds before an incoming call from his roommate flashes across his screen instead.

He sighs, knowing full well he should have seen this coming.

He accepts the call and before he can open his mouth to greet his best friend, Pez is firing on all cylinders.

“I want a detailed recap of your night at once or, so help me, God, I will track you down and claw it out of you.”

“Easy now. No need for threats I know you’d make good on,” Henry says, heading into the kitchen.

He pulls down a mug and plucks a tea bag from the canister on the counter. He drops it inside of the mug.

“My night was…interesting,” he says, moving next to the kettle and adding water.

Pez makes a perplexed sound over the line, not that Henry can blame him.

“You don’t sound like a man whose life has been altered by mind-blowing sex despite the description of this mystery man. What exactly happened?”

Henry shudders a bit as the memory of Javier’s hotel room comes to mind. He can still feel the excessive amount of lube even though he’d showered thoroughly the second he got home.

He recaps the night just as Pez demanded while he makes his tea, not skimping on all the details even as his face burns as he recounts it all. Pez is aghast, gasping and shrieking right on cue as Henry describes the night and his early morning escape.

“Anyway, I still feel rather guilty for leaving while he was sleeping, but I couldn’t bear the thought of having to talk about it.”

“You worry too much. It was a one night stand. Staying the night is not customary nor is it mandatory. You got in, you got out. That’s standard protocol for an evening such as this. Especially as this handsome devil turned out to be a dud.”

Henry frowns. “Still. Some kind of acknowledgment would have been the decent, proper thing to do. I hope I didn’t offend him.”

Pez tuts twice.

“My darling Hazza, life is too short to waste it dwelling on mediocre hookups. All the same, I must say I’m particularly proud of you, young chap! Sowing your wild oats without much abandon! You’re like a brand new man. My little Henry, all grown up right before my very eyes.”

“Have I expressed lately just how much I loathe you?”

“Sweetie, don’t lie. It’s most unbecoming.”

Henry rolls his eyes and smiles to himself as he sets his mug to his lips and drinks. His phone buzzes and Henry pulls it away to see another call coming in from his agent.

“I’ve got to run. Shaan is ringing me, but I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Pez bids him farewell and Henry quickly switches over.

“Henry,” Shaan greets. “Are you busy today? Would you be free for lunch?”

“How sweet. Are you thinking about buying me a meal?” Henry muses.

He can practically hear Shaan’s eyes rolling.

“Hardly, but there are some people who are interested in doing such. An American actor just got acquired for his autobiography and he and his team responded quite well to your samples. They’d like to meet with you today.”

Henry freezes, surprised by the news.

“Wait, seriously?”

“He and his manager are leaving this afternoon, but they’d love to meet you if you’re able to make it for lunch. It’s a bit of a time crunch here.”

Henry eyes the clock. His afternoon is in fact free; he can certainly make the meeting but the question still remains, does he even want to? Last night’s borderline career crisis is still top of mind. He’d been so ready at the bar last night to throw it all away, to give up ghostwriting, to get back to telling his own stories instead of being the unknown voice behind others.

Henry pinches the bridge of his nose.

“If I go, it’s not a commitment, right?”

“It’s just an inquiry, a get-to-know-you for everyone.” Shaan pauses. “Is everything alright with you? I know things with that gamer guy didn’t go over so well, but from the pitch, it truly sounds like these guys are going to give you true access to Alex. They want this to be extremely collaborative.”

Henry purses his lips and stands up straighter.

“Alex. That’s the actor then?”

“Yes, Alex Claremont-Diaz. He was on that teen vampire show, I’m completely blanking on the name right now. The vampire craze a few years back really was hard to keep track of. Anyway, he’s been in a few made-for-TV movies and has made some guest appearances over the years. His fans love him. I think this could be a great opportunity for you and what they’re offering is pretty substantial. They’re putting their weight behind this one in a big way.”

Despite the man’s resumé, Henry hasn’t the foggiest idea who the guy is, but he figures it’s a better alternative than knowing him for negative reasons.

“Would you be up for taking the meeting?” Shaan asks. Henry can hear a bit of strain in his voice.

There’s no harm in at least going, Henry thinks.

“Of course, yes. Just text me the details and I’ll be there. Thanks for setting this up, Shaan. Sincerely, I appreciate it.”

He hangs up and looks around his kitchen, his mind racing. In an ideal world, he would do his due diligence and look up this actor and make sure he’s the kind of person he’d even want to get to know, let alone invoke on the page.

Instead, he’s only able to make a mad dash for another shower and throw together a presentable outfit before heading out the door. He checks the text that had come in from Shaan while he was getting ready to get the meeting details.

He makes his way into Manhattan and to the restaurant, giving the name Shaan told him the reservation was under, Zahra Bankston.

He’s led through the tastefully decorated restaurant and brought to a table with a woman with a no nonsense expression as she types furiously on her phone and a man who makes Henry believe he’s having either a stroke or some kind of psychotic break.

Though his head is down perusing the menu, it was only a few hours ago that Henry had a view like this: that head between his legs trying in vain to make him come.

There’s only a split second before the man looks up, confirming what Henry already knew. All the same, it still feels like a dagger to the heart seeing that face again.

“Ah, you must be Henry,” Zahra greets him, rising from her seat. “Thanks so much for squeezing in this meeting. But with us in town, it would have been crazy not to at least try getting some time together.”

Henry, to his credit, manages to function enough to smile and answer back. From the corner of his eye, he can see Javier—Alex—avoid looking at him and taking a sip from his glass.

“My pleasure, really. I’m glad I could come.”

Alex chokes on his water, quickly patting his chest twice and coughing.

Zahra looks over at him, a sharp perfectly groomed brow lifting.

Alex holds up a hand and gestures for them to continue.

Henry wonders how long it’ll take for Alex to actually utter a word.

“Your samples were incredible and that’s not me blowing smoke up your ass. You’ve got such a range. We’d love to see what you could do with Alex.”

Henry looks over at the man just then and their eyes meet.

Unlike last night, there are no glasses obscuring Alex’s face. He looks different somehow in the daylight, his features sharper– every bit the celebrity he’s now been revealed to be. Even how he carries himself is different. Henry chalks it up to Alex now having an air of professionalism. Last night as Javier, he didn’t have to be someone embarking on a meeting. He could let his guard down and be himself freely, even with a fake name and fabricated backstory.

Henry looks away and tries to get his head on straight, to exist right here at this table rather than being pulled back to retrace last night.

Zahra’s phone vibrates on the table, rattling her cutlery. She grabs it and looks at the screen, sighing.

“Crap, sorry. I have to take this,” Zahra says impatiently, removing her cloth napkin from her lap and putting it on the table before she bustles off.

Without her, Henry feels completely unmoored and the shockwaves of seeing the man next to him again shake him once more.

“Okay, well, this is awkward,” Alex says flatly.

He’d been so quiet this whole time, Henry was starting to think he’d lost his voice in the hours that separated their run ins.

“Understatement of the century. I never thought I’d see you again.”

Alex laughs. “Yeah, I kinda got that impression when I woke up alone.”

He says it lightly, but his words still land like punches to the gut.

Henry frowns. “I’m sorry. Everything last night…going back to your room, I told you, that’s not really me. You weren’t actually you either though. Here on business? Working in sales?”

Alex’s brows furrow. “I couldn’t be. Hell, I didn’t know if you might’ve known who I was or not. It was a risk so, yeah, I fibbed a little.”

“You fibbed a lot, Javier.”

Alex’s face is unreadable and Henry thinks perhaps he’s taken this a step too far.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Alex waves him off. “I probably deserved that, but for different reasons, I couldn’t be honest. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Henry imagines himself in Alex’s shoes, a man with a certain level of public notoriety. He can picture how difficult it might be to forge genuine connections with people when there’s an underlying fear that it’s merely seen as an opportunity for a quick fifteen minutes of fame.

“I can. I’m not actually mad. I’m just…God, the last twenty four hours have been some of the most confusing for me.”

Alex laughs dryly. “You’re telling me.”

Henry can sense there’s a backstory here, but he doubts he’s in a position to ask for details. Instead, he takes a cleansing breath.

“Had I known this meeting was with you, I wouldn’t have taken it. I’m clearly not the right person to have on this project. When Zahra gets back, I can let her know. Or I’ll have Shaan phone her later.”

Alex’s head snaps back a bit as if he’s been struck.

“Whoa, wait. Henry,” he says softly and instantly Henry’s brought back to last night, the way Alex rasped his name.

He squeezes eyes shut, blocks out the memory before pulling himself back into the moment.

“We’ve gone through so many freaking portfolios and yours really stood out the most. That doesn’t suddenly change just because of yesterday. We called you in on merit, on your talent. I still think you’d be the best person for the job. You don’t even know just how perfect you are for this. Please consider it? Whatever happened between us, we can just ignore it and start fresh.”

Henry searches his eyes trying to see if he can detect any underlying doubt but Alex’s face is completely earnest.

Before he can answer, Zahra comes bounding back to the table. Her presence is so commanding, people from other tables stare after as she passes by.

She either doesn’t notice or she simply doesn’t care. Either way, Henry is in awe of her.

“Okay. Where were we?” she says as she settles into her seat.

Henry still feels shaken by Alex’s plea and the curiosity he felt before is only amplified tenfold as Alex’s words play on a loop in his head.

Why would Henry of all people be the ideal candidate, even with their recent history?

“Right,” Zahra continues, clapping her hands together. “Alex will be hitting the con circuit in full force while the announcement goes live in two weeks. You’d go with him, getting complete access to panels and photoshoots, everything so you can shadow him for research.”

“The announcement?” Henry interjects.

“Crescent Valley will be doing a reunion special,” Alex answers. “It’s under wraps for now, but we’ll be breaking the news during this tour. It’s something fans have been asking for for years now. We know it’ll get a ton of great coverage. But when we start out at the first stop in Portland, you’ll be able to get the hang of what it’s like on the road before the madness kicks in.”

“And, uh, how many stops exactly?” Henry asks, his head already hurting at the mere thought of the costs.

Zahra must pick up on it as she says, “Ten-city tour this time around plus time in L.A for reunion-related filming. All your travel expenses and lodging will be covered. You’ll also receive a per diem while you’re on the road with Alex for these three months.”

She picks up her glass and takes a sip of her wine.

“You’ve got a damn good agent in Shaan. He negotiated for an advance as well. You’re practically robbing the publisher, but honestly, good for you. You’d be worth every cent.”

It’s a lucrative deal, far more than Henry could have imagined. A multi-city tour, an advance. It sounds too good to be true. Last night he’d had one foot out the door with this career. Now, it felt as if a red carpet was being rolled out at his feet.

“So, what do you say? Can we tempt you?” Zahra asks. Henry is quickly learning to appreciate how direct she is, even if it is slightly intimidating.

Henry can’t help it; he looks right at Alex then.

“I can honestly say you’ve already succeeded in that.”

He holds Alex’s gaze for a moment before he looks back at Zahra.

“I’m in.”

~*~*~

Henry spends the better part of the day after lunch falling down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos of Alex, everything from Entertainment Weekly interviews to fanvids. The content is bottomless and if there’s one thing to be clear, it’s that Shaan was right. Alex’s fanbase is devoted, the comments sections overrun with people making declarations of love for both Alex and his character. On more than one occasion, he’s seen oaths from people vowing they’d leave their current relationships if given the chance to date Alex.

From their ferocity, Henry doesn’t think they’re being hyperbolic.

He’s part way through Alex’s BuzzFeed puppy interview, because of course Alex has one, when he hears Pez coming home from his spot on the couch where he’s spent far too many hours stretched out with his laptop.

Pez enters with a tote bag of groceries on his shoulder and flowers, no doubt from his favorite stall at the farmers market.

“Have you ever heard of an actor named Alex Claremont-Diaz?” he asks Pez by way of a greeting.

Pez stares blankly at him and, for a moment, Henry worries something has happened to his best friend until Pez sets down the flowers and tote bag and plants his hands firmly on his hips.

Henry is sure the look he’s going for is stern or authoritative, but it's very hard to take Pez seriously when he looks more like a deer caught in headlights.

“Are you playing jokes on me? You know I could not shut up about Crescent Valley when we were uni! Of course I know who Alex Claremont-Diaz is, that delicious slice of apple pie.”

Henry snorts a laugh, keeping himself back from saying he’s actually had a taste firsthand.

“Why the sudden interest in him?” Pez asks, picking up his discarded items. Henry follows him into the kitchen.

“We had lunch.”

Pez turns back sharply from the cupboard he’s just opened.

“Pardon me? You and whom exactly? Certainly not Alex Claremont-Diaz! That simply cannot be. That is not news you just oh so casually drop like you’re giving me a weather update, Hen. Are you positive you didn’t meet aliens last night? Surely you’ve been possessed. One night stands and rubbing elbows with celebrities. I mean, my word.”

Henry smiles to himself. If only Pez knew the totality of it, of the way this all intersects.

“Paint the scene! But start from the beginning. How in the world did you end up on a lunch date with Alex Claremont-Diaz, the man I once believed was my destiny?”

Henry rolls his eyes at the latter part of Pez’s words.

“I will tell you, but only if you stop using his full name every two seconds. You can just say Alex.”

“Oh, well. Excuse me. Have I been replaced? Have you gone off and made a new best friend then? Your precious Alex,” he says, fluttering his lashes on the name.

Henry scoffs.

“I haven’t been able to cut you loose yet, so I’d wager you’ve earned your stay in my life, much to my dismay,” he teases before he starts to explain Shaan’s call and the snowball that his afternoon became as a result of it.

“This is unreal,” Pez says by the end of it, awe coloring his tone. “Where’s the first stop?”

“Portland.”

Pez claps his hands together.

“We must go shopping for flannel at once.”

Henry gives him a deadpan look.

“What? They’d probably bar you from entry into the state if you don’t look the part,” Pez jokes.

“You just want an excuse to dress me up like I’m a Ken doll.”

“But, I mean…aren’t you though? You strapping young lad you.”

Henry rolls his eyes and smiles.

“I’m going to miss you. It’ll be strange going weeks, months really, without having you around.”

Pez puts the back of his hand against his forehead and drapes himself dramatically over the counter.

“I suppose I’ll have to fend for myself. You can write me letters. Carry my photo in a locket to remember me by. Tattoo my name on your heart so that I know the love is real.”

“On second thought, perhaps I won’t miss you at all.”

#rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #userthai #tusersonia #tuserpaige #ronenrubinstein #usernicholas #usersteen #kimmy writes

22 notes · View notes

hbosucc · 6 months

Text

Greg Hirsch x Reader

Ok being brave and posting the first chapter!! It's an x Reader fic (I used Y/N, so much nostalgia lol) with few descriptions of the reader insert, besides afab/uses female pronouns, works as a tutor, and is mid-20's in age.

First up, Content Warnings: This fic is for readers 18+ only. The first two chapters aren't explicitly NSFW, but later chapters will be.

Content Warnings for:

Sexual Content: consensual, protected sex between two adult characters, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, slight power play (choking, one partner holding the other's wrists down, all consensual).

Swearing

Alcohol & (in one of the later chapters, I will put another warning at the top when I post it) drug use

The Roy family & their whole mess lmao

If I can think of anything else I'll make sure to add it!

A few other things:

I found out about the allegations against Nicholas Braun (Greg's actor) after I'd already written most of this fic, and I do not condone his alleged actions at all. This fic is only about the character he played.

Greg is kind of a pathetic, goofy little man. I really can't explain my attraction to him!! I simply had to write this fic to get all that out so I can go on with my life lmao.

Chapter 1: First Date

I took a seat at the bar, anxiously checking my phone again. I’d met people from dating apps before, but was still always a bit nervous beforehand. First dates, in general, freaked me out. But the man I’d arranged to meet was really cute—in his pictures, at least—and the bar he’d suggested was fancy and well-populated, so I decided to brave my nerves and wait a while longer for him to show.

Taking a slow sip of my gin and tonic, I surveyed the room, narrowing my eyes. Usually, I would’ve waited for my date to arrive before ordering, but he was late, and I was hoping the drink would settle my nerves.

Was that him? His bio had listed his height as 6’5”, which I’d initially thought must’ve been an exaggeration. If that was him, he certainly hadn’t been lying. I watched as he glanced around, looking almost panicked, until his eyes landed on me. He visibly relaxed, his lips turning up into a smile as he headed towards me.

“Hi, Y/n?” He asked, and I nodded, looking him up and down. He was late, after all; I couldn’t go too easy on him. He slid onto the stool next to mine, unwinding a scarf from around his neck. I couldn’t help but notice his hands: large and long fingered. With his height, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t seriously packing below the belt. I snuck a look down at his shoes, clocking their size while he ordered himself a drink.

“Would you like another?” He asked. My gaze snapped back up to meet his.

“That would be great, thanks. Gin and tonic.”

He turned back to the bartender to order for me and open a tab. I finished my first drink and the second appeared almost immediately.

“I’m like, so, so sorry I’m late. I should’ve messaged to let you know, I just, work was literally insane today.” He blew out a long breath, and I felt bad for him for a moment. Unless he was a fantastic actor, he seemed genuinely frazzled.

“Well, I suppose I can forgive you, as long as you keep the drinks coming.” I smiled to let him know I was joking—well, mostly—and was rewarded with a nervous laugh. “What do you do for work? It wasn’t in your bio.”

“I—well, I work for a media company.”

“This is New York, Greg, you’ve got to be more specific than that.” I rolled my eyes, but stopped when I saw how apprehensive he looked. “Unless you’re under an NDA or something, of course. If you tell me, you’d have to kill me, and all that?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He ran a hand over his dark hair and gave another nervous chuckle.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to talk about work. Mine’s pretty boring, anyways.”

“Oh, what do you do?” He asked, straightening up.

“I’m a tutor at one of the private schools on the upper-east side. English, mostly, though I can do most other subjects in a pinch.”

“That’s impressive, you work at one of those rich people schools?” He raised his eyebrows. “You have to be, like, really smart to work at one of those.”

“I suppose so.” I laughed, almost choking on my drink. I liked his bluntness. Most people use bluntness as an excuse to be an absolute dick, but he was blunt in a nice way. It seemed as though he was incapable of pretense; he just said whatever came to mind, even if it didn’t come out in the most eloquent way.

There was a beat of silence, and I stirred the lime wedges around in my glass. I knew I needed to slow down; my limit was typically three drinks. Less than ten minutes into the date and I was halfway there already. I was supposed to be pacing myself so I wouldn’t end up drunkenly throwing myself at him. Not that I was completely opposed to taking someone to bed on the first date, but I had to admit that was beginning to feel juvenile to me. If I liked someone enough, I preferred to let the tension build up for a bit first.

“So,” I started, having realized that so far, he’d been asking all the questions. “Did you grow up here, in New York?”

We went over the usual first-date questions, and I began to feel more comfortable as the date went on. I’m sure this was partially due to the gin loosening my nerves, but Greg also just seemed so harmless. There was an initial timidity to him, but I could see the beginning of something else underneath that. Something in him wanted to break out, and I could feel myself growing intrigued by the idea of opening him up.

“So, what are you, like—what brings you to the app? The one where we met, I mean.” He swiveled to angle his stool towards me, finishing off his first drink and catching the bartender’s eye to nod for another.

“Well,” I tried to choose my words carefully. This was the part where I knew some guys would get scared off, and I liked Greg so far, so I hoped that wouldn’t happen. “I’d like to find something long-term, to be honest. I’ve dated people over the years, done the whole casual thing, but I’ve grown tired of it. What about you?”

“Yeah, same, actually,” He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s just, like, so hard to find cool people, you know? People are so, like, fake nowadays.”

“I suppose so. I think people have always been fake, to some degree, but now it’s just easier to see. Social media, and all that. Broadcasting every thought you have out into the world.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” His eyes widened in a nearly comical way, though I could tell he was being sincere. “but you’re absolutely right. People can just, like, send all their opinions out there, no matter how crazy.”

“Exactly. I mean, I use social media, don’t get me wrong, but not to that extent.” I hastily added, “And I don’t think I’m better than other people for using it less often, or more discreetly, it’s just a preference.”

“I feel like…I hope this isn’t too much, okay, but your voice is really nice. I feel like I could listen to you talk, like, all day. And you have all these smart things to say, too.”

“Greg,” I was taken aback and quite flattered. He’d managed to fluster me. “I’m not that smart, I promise—and I say plenty of nonsensical things. If you’re around me enough, you’ll see lots of that. I’m just on my best behavior at the moment.”

“Well, I’d be interested to see you on your worst behavior.” He said, then seemed to realize what he’d implied, and chuckled nervously. I could see his wheels turning, formulating an apology, and I cut him off.

“Likewise.” I drained my drink through the straw, the toe of my boot nudging his leg as I turned to order another.

---

“Are you sure you’ll be able to get home okay?” He asked. We were out in front of the now-closed bar, waiting for my ride.

“I’m sure. It’s just an Uber, Greg, I’ve taken them hundreds of times.” I smiled up at him. It was freezing, and we were both bundled up in our coats, scarves, and gloves. I really did have to look up at him now that we were standing. He was nearly a foot taller than me, even in my heeled boots. “Are you sure you’ll get home okay?”

“Yeah, okay, yeah I’m sure.” He sighed with a grin. “I do appreciate the concern, though.”

“Well, you paid for all of our expensive-ass drinks, so it’s the least I can do.” I said. “Thank you for that, by the way. I’ll get the check next time, if you’d like.”

“It’s no problem, really. I, um…I used to be really broke, not too long ago, actually, and it feels really nice to be able to pay for stuff now.”

“I know that feeling.” I nodded. I squinted as a car pulled up to the curb across the street, barely able to make out the license number in the dark, and compared it against the one on my phone screen.

“Well, that’s my ride,” I said, looking back up at him. “I would like to do this again, if you’d be interested.”

“Yes, I would. I’d be…very interested,” He said, his breath seeming to catch in his throat.

“That’s great to hear,” I stepped closer, pausing for a moment, wondering if he’d make a move. When he didn’t bend down to kiss me, I had to admit that I was disappointed, my stomach sinking, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment at my presumption. I stepped back, giving him a wave instead. “Well, I’ll see you, then.”

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat, and he called after me as I crossed the street. “Let me know when you get home!”

“I will. Goodnight, Greg.” I gave one last wave before shutting myself into the backseat of my Uber. The driver played music on a low volume the whole drive, and it began to snow lightly as we approached my apartment building. I got out and stood in the cold for a moment before heading upstairs, trying to wind myself down. It had been a good date, and I had thought I’d felt some chemistry between us. Though without the kiss that tended to punctuate a good first date, it was hard to tell for sure. I knew I would overthink it all if I let myself, so I got ready for bed, taking a sleeping pill so I wouldn’t stay awake and replay the date over and over in my mind, wondering if and where it’d gone wrong.

#hbo succession #succession #succession imagine #succession fanfic #greg hirsch #gregory hirsch #succession x reader #greg hirsch x reader

40 notes · View notes

dduane · 1 year

Note

hello, hope you and Peter are doing well! I wanted to ask a question that almost certainly has been asked before: How do you go about ensuring that a creative project is sustainable/has 'wings' before diving into it? (I'm thinking less of outlining here and more the step before that - assessing how much meat's on the creative bone and what your appetite is, so to speak)

Well, the first thing I'd have to define is what exactly "sustainable" means. "Capable of being started and finished in some medium or other"? That might enter into the equation eventually... but not instantaneously.

There'll be times when a concept arrives in my creative space within a matter of seconds—like someone poured it into my head out of a jug—or times when it seeps in quietly over a matter of days, until eventually some critical number or volume is surpassed and there's enough of it to register as Something New To Do That Could Be Fun*. In either case I normally have at least a few minutes to work out whether anybody but me is ever likely to want to read or view this thing, and (if so) what medium it seems to belong in.

This process I usually refer to as "weighing [something] in the hand of the mind." And here you can insert video of an insert on a woman's hand holding a half kilo bag of sugar, bouncing it up and down a little to see if it's really half a kilo, or just kinda feels like it.

What I have to confess here, though, is that I have no idea how I do this, or from what my skill at the process derives.

Maybe just a lot of practice? Trial and error? As over forty years there've been more than fifty books, and a whole lot of animation, and a bunch of screenplays, not to mention the comics and computer games and audio adaptations and other whatnot. I've had a while to learn when a story will make an okay screenplay but not necessarily a book (or vice versa); or whether something's better as a novella or novelette, rather than as a novel based on a core concept that, like butter over too much bread, is going to wind up looking and feeling like what Bilbo would have described as "thin and stretched".

I really wish I could more clearly quantify the elements that make up one of these assessments. Every piece of work I embark on goes through one. Some attention's paid to the number of characters, the depth of the emotional interactions, the proposed in-story timeline, and the relative size and weight of the plot's payoff... and how all these balance against one another. But once this evaluation has been made, it's then possible to slot the project into the work schedule—and pray that nothing else interferes with it.

Because of course something may. The most severe form of these idea-arrival events doesn't give you a chance to evaluate anything at all. It just grabs you by the scruff of the neck and dumps you in front of the nearest device or material that can be used for writing and says, in a voice that will brook no dissent, "HI THERE YOU'RE WRITING THIS NOW AND IT WILL BE FUN!" (It'll say this even though that may not, strictly speaking, be true.) I thank great Thoth that this isn't that common an occurrence, because it tends to play merry hell with everything you're supposed to be doing during that period. ...Yet the effects can be good. The Door Into Fire did this to me. So have other projects I can't discuss due to NDAs.

Possibly the best note to wind up on here is that Sturgeon's Law applies. If 90% of all sf/fantasy stories are crap, as Ted said, then so are 90% of all their core ideas. (Or so it seems to me.) Any writer who's been doing this work for any length of time will have many, many story ideas in a given day... and know that only a small percentage of them are worth considering for more than a few minutes, or even seconds. Ideas are easy. It's execution that's hard— that costs you weeks and months and sometimes years of effort and sweat; of taking things apart and putting them back together in different shapes and hunting down just the right word.

If you're embarking on this kind of lifestyle: may luck go with you. (Because sometimes even very good work falls afoul of very bad luck.) ...But keep your hopes up: and keep working.

HTH!

*There are other forms of this surprise attack, including the one @petermorwood went through one time that was triggered by a chance line dropped by a studio executive we were having lunch with in the Paramount commissary. Without warning—and after the fact he was as surprised as everybody else—P. commenced to freestyle a series pitch so good that the lunch went on for three hours while it unfolded. Tl:dr; the series got bought and then ran aground on the financial rocks secondary to 9/11. ...But that's a saga for another day.

#writing #writing advice #or just vague hints

97 notes · View notes

phenakistoskope · 2 months

Text

Last week, I bought a copy of Frontline because I'd been quite enamoured with Aijaz Ahmad's work over the past few months. Ahmad had been an editorial consultant with Frontline for years, contributing over eighty articles to the publication, articles that I will track down one day, by hook or by crook, but that's not the point.

My copy of Frontline is dated April 5th 2024, and it begins with an article written by Satish Deshpande, whose economic and sociological scholarship I am unfamiliar with, but whose occasional contribution to The Economic and Political Weekly I am familiar with, especially the essay Caste and Castelessness: Towards a Biography of the ‘General Category’, which has been useful to my understanding of caste.

The essay in Frontline is called A Leap Year for Indian Democracy? and it walks me through the ravages of the BJP's tenure at the helm of the Indian parliament, its part in the disintegration of the democratic institutions of the state, including the courts, bureaucracy, law enforcement, and public universities. It muses about the strengths and weaknesses of the opposition, the INDIA bloc, and professes support for anything but the NDA.

What struck me about the essay was, first, the assertion that the Emergency called by the Indira Gandhi led Congress government in 1975-1976, "seems almost innocent" compared to the atrocities of the BJP lead government. While I would agree that the political foundations that underwrote the Emergency were certainly different from the political underpinnings of the current hindutva regime, the ascription of innocence, even in passing, to a brutal regime is a distortion of history, it seems flippant at best and deeply disturbing at worst.

Second, the essay ends with a personal anecdote where Deshpande recounts his part in the elections of 1977, that is, the year the Indira Gandhi led Congress was ousted from the centre. He calls it an "inspirational anecdote", where Deshpande and twenty or thirty of his compatriots campaigned for the Janata Party, and Deshpande himself was assigned to campaign for Atal Bihari Vajpayee, of the Bharatiya Jana Sangh, despite despite the author's political leanings "going strongly against the Jana Sangh".

Somehow, Deshpande manages to disclose that he played a small, insignificant part in the rise of the hindutva regime of our times, and in the same breath, denounce it profusely. I'm not going to denounce Deshpande based on this essay, but I do wonder whether Frontline itself limits political enunciation in a certain ways, I know Vijay Prashad has also contributed to Frontline in the past, and that The Hindu Group acquired Frontline, some time after 1994 (Frontline began publication in 1984, The Hindu Group was established in 1994, I'm making educated guesses).

But perhaps the limits of what a publication can say are determined by the advertising that pays for its publication. Now, The Hindu Group clearly has a diverse portfolio of advertisers under its belt, but I am going to consider only the advertisements printed in the particular issue of Frontline on my desk.

There are three adverts in this copy of Frontline, one inside the front cover, and two more on either side of the back cover. I shall elide the place of book reviews, book, film, and art recommendation as advertisements to expedite the analysis. The advertisements are as follows:

Inside the front cover is an advertisement for Rau's IAS Study Circle, a private tuition service which prepares students and civilians for the Union Public Service Commission (UPSC) and Indian Administrative Services (IAS) exams; private tuition for public posts. The fees for the courses and rehearsal tests range from ₹8,000 to ₹175,000.

Inside the back cover is an advertisement for Gujarat Maritime University, another private institution, which teaches many courses relating to the maritime industry, but none of them concerned with actually operating sea-faring vessels.

The back cover is an advertisement for Galgotias University, established under the Uttar Pradesh Private Universities Act no. 12 of 2019, and offers a wide range of courses, and, to quote the advertisement — "In keeping with the grand vision of our Hon'ble PM Shri Narendra Modi Ji for making India a Vishwaguru, and staying committed to the dream of our Hon'ble UP CM Shri Yogi Adityanath Ji for making our state a truly Global Knowledge Superpower" (emphasis in original)

I haven't had a chance to read all the essays and articles in this issue of Frontline, that will be accomplished over the next week, nor have I any past issues to compare advertising patterns with. However, I am quite certain that political positions are limited within Frontline's pages, mainly by advertising, but, this does not imply that the limits cannot be transcended in calling for a complete restructuring of India's political economy.

#phenakistoskope.txt #this has been an effortpost

10 notes · View notes

mamamittens · 5 months

Text

The Doctor Will See You Now (+18)

This is part 8/12 of December Event 2023 for @akagami-no-laney

Hongo X Fem!Secretary!Reader

Warnings: Medical play kink, possible glove kink?, sex on an exam table (with stirrups), sex in the workplace, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, lowkey roleplay, and possibly inappropriate workplace relationship. No wait, yeah, you're his secretary, so you fuck your boss. Mildly dubious consent but it's pretty clear that this is wanted on both ends without fear of reprimand.

Word Count: 2,906

There was a palpable sense of relief as you locked the front office doors after the last patient of the year. You loved your job as Doctor Hongo’s secretary for his private practice, but the holiday was well deserved at this point. It had been a rough season, and you weren’t even the one seeing all the patients. But you did organize every session, test, correspondence, and other such noteworthy things for the practice. Of which there had been a lot.

A whole fucking lot.

He was well loved in the community and you could see why. He was very good at what he did, had a wonderful bedside manner, and was very easy on the eyes. Even his cliché lab coat couldn’t hide the broad frame and thick muscles that allowed him to move his patients or support them physically with ease. While it was annoying scheduling appointments for lonely housewives inquiring about ‘private home visits’, you’d be lying if you said the prospect held no appeal. Of course, you were more professional than to forward such enquiries on anyone’s behalf.

You turned back to regard the front office. It was lightly decorated for the season, a Christmas tree set up in the corner with donation tags for local charities, garland strung across the front desk, and a holiday special playing on the television in the corner. All of this would be removed and put away after the New Year first thing, but for now it was to stay. The other staff members eager to leave.

So now, it was only Doctor Hongo in his office and yourself. Technically, you could leave right now. He certainly wouldn’t mind it. But your perpetual soft spot guided your feet anyway. Past the exam rooms and offices of your colleagues. Most already tidied up—though someone forgot to clean a few of the exam rooms before the left.

He stood over his desk, back to you as he leafed through his papers. Patient files, perhaps. Ensuring all his tests were sent out and results organized. They should be already, you’d been responsible for organizing them once a week to ensure his appointments ran smoothly as part of your contract and NDAs. But he was a meticulous sort of man. Long blond strand of hair curling around his ear loosely, absently tucked into place when it fell from his bun.

From this angle, you could see the sharp line of his jaw where stubble began to form. The edge of his cheekbone and curve of his nose catching the sterile light. He hadn’t seen you yet, which was a good thing. It wouldn’t be professional to be caught staring at your boss like he’s a marble statue you weren’t allowed to touch. And damn, how your fingers ached to stroke up the back of his shoulders to his neck and hairline. He looked like he’d be warm but hard to the touch and you might just die happy if you ever got to know just how firm his arms were.

You spotted the moment he sensed you in the doorway and quickly redirected your expression to something less scandalous than open want. Instead gazing at him warmly as an old friend.

“Hey there, doctor. Need any help with anything before I go?” You asked softly, feeling strangely small in the abnormally quiet office. There wasn’t even any music playing. Just the light ruffle of papers in his hands and clothes shifting over his broad shoulders as he breathed evenly. Doctor Hongo smiled, almost shaking his head. “I noticed a few exam rooms weren’t tidied up yet. I can at least wipe them down before I go.”

He clicked his tongue, looking faintly annoyed.

“The nurses were supposed to do that before they left…” He sighed, shaking his head. “C’mon, let’s get this place cleaned up and then we can officially start our holiday.” Doctor Hongo smiled, placing his hand gently on your back and guiding you to the exam rooms. Closing and shutting off the lights in each one he passed by.

When he spotted the first one not cleaned up, he let you lead and started wiping down the counters as you handled the table.

“…So, have any plans?” Ah.

Subtle.

That’s not inappropriate to ask, is it? Shouldn’t be, surely?

He looked back at you as he poured more cotton balls into the jar with a smile, dark eyes bright and lively despite the less than flattering light.

“Oh, not really. What about yourself? Any plans with friends or a Christmas date?” He startled when he realized he poured too many, cursing softly as he scooped up the excess and tossed them. Then he went back to refilling the other supply jars with a strange tension in his shoulders.

“Nope. Solo this year I’m afraid. Just me, a bottle of wine, and maybe a few Christmas specials.” You laughed and he looked back at you in surprise.

“Really? I was sure you’d have something planned. You’re a hell of a catch after all… well, their loss, I suppose!” He declared with a grin before gesturing you to follow him out of the room, turning off the lights after you and closing the door.

You were a bit thrown by that response and could only follow him wordlessly until he hit the next room that hadn’t been cleaned properly.

“T-Thanks…” You mumbled a tad breathlessly as you went through the motions of wiping down the leather exam table.

There was a pause before a wave of heat washed over your back.

“Do you not believe me?” Doctor Hongo’s words drifted across the back of your neck and you jolted. “Perhaps I could show you?” he breathed softly but didn’t touch you despite being so tantalizingly close.

“D-Doctor--!” You couldn’t help but stammer nervously, looking back to see him gazing down at you intensely with a faint smile.

“Only if you wish it… only if you want me.” Hongo leaned in closer, his hands resting on the leather. You struggled to remember how to breathe, let alone speak. His dark eyes cutting through your thoughts as heat pooled inside you. “You seem at a loss for words… do you need a doctor?” He grinned mischievously and you choked.

“D-D—” You swallowed hard. “D-Doctor… a-are you…?” you couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t even dream of implying what was almost certainly happening.

Hongo—Doctor Hongo!—hummed thoughtfully, his hands brushing over your cheeks. Fingertips resting over your pulse as he measured the rapid beat of your heart.

“You seem stressed. Common this time of year… perhaps you should take a seat on the exam table?” Hongo leaned back and gave you space.

Noticeably, he left open a generous gap to leave. His expression almost coy but understanding. Interested but unwilling to push.

Out of all his attractive qualities, of which he had many, his integrity is what drew you in the most. More than anything else, though make no mistake, those other qualities were just as attractive.

If you didn’t want to pursue this, he’d happily let you leave and likely not mention it beyond an apology fruit basket for the presumption. But…

But.

If you did—damn how much you did despite words failing you—then he’d gladly keep up this cute game.

And fuck you wanted to play.

Carefully, you turned to face him fully, face hot as you smiled and lifted yourself onto the exam table. His smile was dazzling as he spun on his heel and plucked two gloves from the mounted rack.

“Well! Let’s get to the bottom of this then, shall we?” Hongo purred, snapping his gloves in place before gently adjusting you to lay down. Without looking, he moved the table into a position close to a reclining chair, his hand pressing over your sternum briefly. Gloved fingers rubbing over your neck teasingly, just a little to lingering in their touch to be clinical. “Your heart rate is quite healthy. Lymph nodes are good. Your throat?”

Hongo leaned in, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks as he kissed you. Lips soft and warm over yours. Parting gently as your eyes slid shut, his tongue tracing the fragile seam of your lips. Slipping in deeper as you moaned, your hands clutching his shoulders as peppermint flooded your mouth. Eagerly, he pressed deeper. Like he intended on inspecting your throat intimately. His hands trailing down to the hem of your sweater. Rubber grazing your skin as he rubbed up to your breasts. Pushing up your bra to tease your nipples. Happily drinking up your whines as you squirmed.

Your heart raced as you tried not to moan, but it was futile. His touch, even through gloves, was electrifying. His kiss all consuming. If it wasn’t the crackle of paper and leather underneath you, you would have forgotten where you were. You keened as he pinched and pulled at your breasts with a pleased groan. Pinning your thighs open with his body, hips gently grinding into your skirt, pushing the fabric up higher with every needy pass.

When he finally relinquished your lips, you gasped for air. Panting as your body shook. His eyes hungry for more.

“Doctor! Aaahn~!” You whined as he pushed up your sweater and exposed your sensitive breasts to the cold air.

“Hmmm… your breasts look lovely. Nothing amiss here, though perhaps I should take a closer look just in case?” Hongo mused playfully as he leaned in and took the hard nipple into his mouth. Toying with it between his tongue and teeth. Your heart raced hard in your chest as you failed to hold in your moans, hands gripping the collar of his coat. Yanking when he nipped and blew the damp skin with a frantic shudder. “Your reactions are amazing. Should have done this a lot sooner, could have had you on my table months ago… but there’s still one more place to check before I give you a clean bill of health, isn’t there?” Hongo asked with a grin, pulling away from you.

You couldn’t help the low whine as his heat left you. His hands pulling out something at the edge of the exam table. You rubbed your thighs together to take the edge off your growing arousal, mortified at how wet you were. But not as mortified when he finished pulling out the stirrups and your whole cunt throbbed at the promise.

Hongo pulled off your shoes and lifted up your thighs, settling your knees on the padded stirrups, heels resting on pedals after a minor adjustment. His face was almost obscured by your pencil skirt, but his eyes cut over the taut fabric with a silent question. His hot hands hovering over your hips.

“P-Please doctor!” You moaned, nearly gasping when his hands settled under your skirt. Pushing the fabric up until it no longer threatened to tear between your spread thighs. Palms rubbing your hips before slightly adjusting you up higher into a more comfortable position. Fingers trailing over your stockings to over your panties, teasing the seam where the two halves met. He looked enthralled at the slick slide of fabric against your pussy. Pressing easily between your folds through the fabric.

“Seems to be a healthy amount of arousal. But I think you’d benefit from an even closer inspection.” Hongo purred, ripping your stockings down the middle and your panties as well. “Oh, what a beautiful sight~” His hot breath washed over your cunt as he spread out your folds eagerly. His tongue quick to lap at your clit as you gasped.

You fell back against the leather padding, paper ripping in your hands you as you writhed. His gloved fingers slipping into your body as he probed your quivering walls. Tongue delving between your folds as you dripped under his attentions. He was thorough and hungry for your reactions. Diving into your cunt like he was starved, one free hand pressing your belly down to keep you still for him. His fingertips abusing every sensitive spot he found, searching for the one that made you want to scream.

And when he did find it, he pressed hard, grinding into that spot while panting praises into your pussy.

“I’ve been wanting to taste this for months.”

“Let me hear everything~”

“That’s right, just like that~ You need this so bad, I can tell~”

“Cum for me, just let it all go~ give it to me, baby~” You shuddered, clenching down on his hand as your thighs fought against the stirrups to slam shut to no avail.

“D-DOCTOR! A-Aaahh! O-Ohhh~! D-Doctor~!” You wailed, receiving only a hearty chuckle, his fingers now gently massaging your g-spot as you came down from your intense high. His lips pressed over your clit with soft licks over your drooling cunt.

He hummed after a long moment. Slowly withdrawing his hand and standing up, pulling off his gloves with a satisfied look.

“As I suspected.” Hongo declared with a grin, lips wet as he licked them. “You need an emergency treatment, immediately. Are you ready?” He asked gently, pointedly grabbing his belt.

Your heart stuttered as you nodded.

“Yes! Y-Yes, D-Doctor Hongo!” You cried out and he smiled, immediately shoving his pants down enough to free his cock. You didn’t get the opportunity to look before he pressed in close. Bracing one hand on your waist as he guided the tip to your folds. Brushing it between them, smearing your cum around before gently pressing in.

You shuddered as his thick cock spread you open, throbbing inside you with every inch gained. You struggled to breathe, gasping as he pressed forward, rocking back whenever your arousal started to run too thin for a seamless glide. Almost taunting you as he slowly hilted. Your body felt hot as he finally settled against your thighs as deep as he could go. Your pussy struggling around his length as he rocked against you. The small bit you couldn’t take sliding in and making you whine, your pussy pressing against his base briefly before he pulled back with a smirk.

“W-What a wonderful woman you are. Taking my cock so well. A-Anytime you need this, say the word. Anywhere. I’d happily bend my cute secretary over my desk anytime she wants. You make such cute noises though, I might have to gag you…” Hongo panted, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into place as you wailed. “But not tonight. You can cry out all you like tonight. Just for me. T-That’s it, just like that for me, baby~” Hongo groaned as he set a harsh pace. Driving the air from your lungs as you grew louder. Body tensing as he drove you closer to the edge again, cock pulsing inside you as sweat dripped down his face.

The room filled with the squeak of leather, paper ripping beneath you, your wet cunt being fucked open, and your loud cries. Words slurred past recognition as you wailed desperately beneath him. Affirmation or begging, you weren’t sure.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Special lunch under my desk, heh, not a bad idea. Maybe we can give it a try before we leave, I don’t think you’ll be able to walk for a while when I’m through with you. Will you?” Hongo panted hungrily as you struggled to figure out if you should shake your head for your quivering thighs or nod for the scandalous image of you kneeling under his desk. “Hmmm, what a good girl you are. Couldn’t ask for a better secretary~ Are you getting close? I think you are, I can feel you throttling my cock~! Well, don’t hold back. I want it all.” Hongo encouraged, fucking you into the table harder and faster.

You snapped, throat burning as you screamed, stirrups groaning as you seized beneath him. Squirting hard against his cock and balls. Hongo grunting in surprise as he fucked you that much harder, cursing under his breath. You whined when he suddenly pulled out, his fist slapping into his hips wetly as he spurted over your open thighs and cunt. Hot cum spraying onto your still quivering pussy with a deep, satisfied groan.

“H-Hongo…” You panted, collapsing against the exam table totally wrung out. He chuckled, kissing your knee as he also caught his breath.

“S-Shit, I got a little carried away there… do you want to take this back to my place?” Hongo asked softly. You swallowed hard and smiled back at him.

“I think I’ll need help walking…” You admitted and he laughed.

“Well, as a doctor, I think I can help with that~” Hongo preened. “Can’t think of a better way to spend the holiday.”

“Aren’t you supposed to not work on the holiday?” You asked faintly, struggling to remove your legs from the stirrups.

Hongo laughed.

“As if this could ever be called work! Besides, all you need is some good old-fashioned bedrest.” Hongo waggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah?” You smiled. “How much rest is involved in that?” Hongo pretended to consider the question as he lifted your legs up for you.

“Less than your actual doctor would recommend, I imagine.” He admitted with a wicked smile.

“I think…” You began softly, face hot, “I’d like to really disobey the doctor’s orders in this case.”

Hongo lit up with a bright smile.

“Well, they do say you should always get a second opinion!”

#December Event 2023 #one piece #hongo one piece #Hongo X Reader #TW: Medical kink #one piece smut

10 notes · View notes