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eddiekasp · 5 years

Note

Got any hcs for r + e realising that they like each other?

I loved this prompt so much I actually wrote a fic for it instead of HCs, hope that’s okay!

Btw, I felt like Richie’s love for Eddie was so inherent that it was almost second nature for him. I didn’t go into it that much in this fic, but you can assume Richie is ferociously in love with Eddie throughout the entirety of this fic LOL

Read on AO3 here.

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Eddie felt a lump in his throat. He was still trying to figure out whether that was from the distance he had biked from his house to Richie’s or a reaction indicating his body was betraying him. His mind had been itching all day. It started with, perhaps, an off-hand comment from his Ma. Nothing completely out of the ordinary, but there are days where her comments were taken better than others.

She had been sitting in their plush living room while Eddie was rifling through a drawer in the kitchen nearby. Her thick legs, snaked with bulging blue veins, outstretched to the leg rest of her brown Lay-Z-Boy chair. The television blared loudly, a news anchor in a pressed suit and muted tie announced the death of a teenager in Florida. Ricky Ray, 15 years old, had succumbed to AIDS and “died peacefully” in his home after exhibiting a courageous battle with the still-mysterious disease. Eddie’s ears twitched towards the broadcast, listening just enough to hear the basis of the story. He shuffled uncomfortably, and continued to search for the good pair of scissors in the kitchen drawer.

“Eddie Bear, did you hear?” came his mother’s voice in the other room. As though avoiding his grasp deliberately, the scissors seemed to slip further down into the drawer, further into the collection of pens, plastic floss toothpicks (Eddie had always thought they looked like mini slingshots), and extra wooden chopsticks collected from countless orders of Chinese takeout. He picked at the skin on his thigh absentmindedly. Fingers finally grasping the cool metal of the closed blades, he pulled out the scissors and walked to his Ma’s calling voice.

“That boy that’s been all over the news, the one with AIDS. He died,” she trailed off, clicking her tongue. After a moment’s thought, “Serves him right. There’s a reason God created that gay disease.” She flicked the remote to a channel showing some hospital soap opera and grabbed another powdered donut from the box she had purchased at the supermarket.

“Want to watch with me, Eddie? I think Dallas is on next,” Sonia hummed, mouth rimmed with white sugar. Eddie swallowed thickly and didn’t say anything. He walked over to his Ma, kissed her on the cheek, and retreated to his bedroom upstairs.

He finally got the box he had been toying with open and sat back on his bed, heart racing. If his mother knew about him, about the things he was feeling and the things he thought about every night before he fell asleep, would she wish he’d gotten AIDS too? His palms felt clammy. He wished he didn’t have to go to church with her on Sunday.

His hands subconsciously reached for the phone receiver as he got up. Without a second thought, his thin fingers dialed a number he knew by heart. After two rings, a familiar voice, comforting in the same way grass tickling bare feet in the summer is comforting, answered.

“Why, if it isn’t my little Eddie Spaghetti. To what do I owe this pleasure?” said Richie Tozier, voice having grown more confident and strong after the start of high school. Why did Eddie’s hands seem to get even clammier? He wiped them on the side of his shorts, grossed out.

“Shut up, asshole. Can I come over? I’m sick of being here right now,” Eddie replied, his voice growing quieter in the last sentence. Richie sensed Eddie’s anxiety over the phone.

“Anytime. I’ll unlock the front door, so just come in.” Richie instructed, and Eddie mumbled a word of thanks before hanging up the phone.

Packing his bag and hoping his mom would allow him to stay the night, Eddie ran downstairs. He had been attempting (thanks to the encouragement of the Losers– Richie especially) to act more assertive towards his mother. Rather than whispering a request and relenting the second he got a “no,” he began to simply state what he was doing and try to leave before his mother got a chance to answer. When he got downstairs, he told his mom he was sleeping over at Richie’s house and would be back first thing in the morning. Through her discouragement, she finally subsided and he got on his bike.

When he got to Richie’s house, he slowly entered through the open front door to find that both of Richie’s parents had yet to return home. He climbed the carpeted stairs and knocked on Richie’s bedroom door. Since they had been kids, the wooden door had been laden with stickers, caution tape, and a piece of paper onto which “RICHIE’S ROOM! KEEP OUT OR AWAIT PAINFUL DEATH!” was crudely written.

“Come in,” Richie answered in a softer voice than usual. Eddie came in, taking off his shoes and putting them by the door as he closed it behind him. He noticed Richie peer up at him, and then quickly look back down at the bass guitar he was holding on his lap. Richie had recently taken up playing bass, and Eddie didn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him how cool he thought it really was.

Eddie sat on Richie’s bed and Richie came to join him after putting his bass back on the stand. Richie sat close enough to Eddie that their knees brushed, and Eddie felt a shiver go up his back. Richie, taking a deep breath, turned to look Eddie straight in the eyes and asked him what had happened.

“What makes you think something happened?” Eddie retorted, and Richie could see there was something he didn’t want to talk about.

“I won’t press you if you don’t wanna talk about it, Eds. But if you do, well… y'know.” Richie mumbled and stretched his arms up. Eddie tried not to peer at the way his t-shirt lifted slightly, and at the trail of black hair leading down from his belly button. It wasn’t that Eddie couldn’t confide in Richie. He knew that if it was something serious, Richie knew how to turn off the voices and annoying nicknames and listen and comfort. In fact, Eddie thought (maybe other than Bill) that Richie was the person who was the easiest to confide in. He wanted to let Richie in. He wanted Richie to hug him and tell him it was gonna be okay. Why did he want that?

“Just… my Ma. As usual.” Eddie choked a bit on his words, finding it hard to talk about the particular comment that had snagged onto him like a bur. He knew why his mother’s comment had gotten to him, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to express that to Richie yet. God forbid Richie thought he was… well. He was. But God forbid Richie found out.

As though reading his mind, Richie put a long, thin arm around Eddie’s neck and pulled him in for a quick peck on the cheek. This was not unusual for them, but Eddie’s face burned hot as Richie pulled away. Richie thought he noticed Eddie lingering for a moment too long.

“I’m always here for you, Eds. You know that,” Richie whispered, a bit too serious for comfort. Eddie’s treasonous heart skipped a beat and he nodded.

Eddie had nearly given up on his physics homework when Richie came out of the shower later that evening. With nothing but a navy blue towel wrapped around his thin waist, he walked over to his drawer and dug out a pair of grey sweatpants. He pulled them on without a second thought and joined Eddie to sit on the edge of his bed. At once, Eddie began to complain about the difficulty of his homework, and dramatically fell back onto the bed. Richie laughed his bright laugh, and told him to forget it.

Eddie knew Richie couldn’t do anything without music playing in the background and observed as Richie dug through a box of CDs he kept under his bed. His mother hated the rock music he listened to, but usually respected Richie enough not to rummage through his things as she cleaned his room. His fingers finally landed on a CD, and he popped it into his player. After a few clicks, a song Eddie had heard Richie play as he drove them both to school came on. Richie kept the volume on low, however, rather than the absurdly loud volume that was typical for his driving.

Eddie felt his hands twitch as he observed a bead of water that hung on a ringlet of Richie's black hair. It grew heavy and fell, cascading down his pale and freckled back. Eddie’s eyes followed it’s trail as it sank further, between his shoulder blades and down the protruding bones of his spine. He sat back up.

Richie turned back around, nodding his head to the beat of the song. Red Hot Chilli Peppers’ “Suck My Kiss” streamed out of the small CD player, and Richie mimicked both the drums and the bass line of the song in time. Richie really was a pretty good musician, Eddie had to admit. Still, Eddie couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled in his throat as he watched his best friend pretending to be a rock star in nothing but a pair of sweats.

Richie laughed alongside Eddie, groping his nightstand for his glasses and telling Eddie that he’s been trying to learn this song on the bass for a couple days. Eddie told him he wanted to hear him play. Richie smiled blindingly and said he’ll show him once he gets it right.

Richie threw on a worn t-shirt and laid back on his bed. Eddie rolled over and pressed himself into Richie’s side, and Richie threw his arm around him again like it was nothing. It was as if Richie’s side was molded perfectly for Eddie after so many nights in the same position. Richie’s hair, freshly washed, smelled clean and Eddie scarcely held himself back from putting his face into the curls. Through the clean, a prickly smell of cigarette smoke lingered on Richie’s sheets as they always did. He wondered if Richie’s mom noticed when she changed his bedding. He felt a wave of warmth rush into his stomach. He wanted to stay like this forever.

He was in love with Richie Tozier.

*****

When Eddie got the phone call from Mike Hanlon from Derry (fuck, was that still foreign), memories flooded him like sick waves of sewer water. Flashes of moments, some bright as sunlight and others red as blood, seemed to list through his mind like a dead man’s last moments on Earth. He reached for the aspirator that was searing a hole through its permanent place in his jeans pocket, thinking that if he didn’t get some goddamn air in his throat he’d burn from the inside out.

The flicker of sunlight reflecting off a pair of coke-bottle glasses.

The buzzing feeling in your ears after loud music is turned off suddenly. A bead of sweat tickling your temple. The glowing heat on your cheek after a peck.

The quick beating of your heart after your first real kiss.

The feeling of falling asleep in your jeans, your face against a warm back and the smell of cigarette smoke.

Richie. Richie.

Walking into Jade of the Orient, Eddie picked at the fabric of the jeans near his thigh, a habit he hadn’t indulged in since high school. He was about to see his childhood friends, people he hadn’t thought about since he left for college more than 20 years prior. He was going to see Richie.

“Holy shit,” was all Eddie could utter when he stepped into the private room and saw Bill and Mikey. His blood ran cold as he rushed in to hug the two of them. The hug was deep and consoling, and yet Eddie could not quell his rushing heart beat, nor the goosebumps that rose on all of his exposed skin. It was more than sheer nervousness; it was terrible fear.

And then Richie came in, sounding the large decorative Chinese gong that stood by the doorway. Eddie couldn’t prevent himself from jumping a foot into the air at the sound, his nerves already standing on end. When he turned around, his heart rose into his throat.

His and Richie’s eyes connected and he felt like he couldn’t breath. Was this what it felt like to be in love? He seemed to have forgotten.

He remembered now.

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guitarplayingastrophysicist · 5 years

Text

B-Side Blowjobs

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: As Roger’s girlfriend, you hang out with the band a lot at Ridge Farm while they record their new album. One of the days you’re visiting, however, is the day your boyfriend decides to lock himself in a cupboard.

Permanent Taglist: @xgoingdownx

It was Ridge Farm, 1975, and you were visiting your boyfriend Roger Taylor at the farm while his band Queen recorded their new album. Currently, the band was near the end of the recording process, and only minor tweaks were being made on songs and the placement of said songs on the record was being hammered out over afternoon tea by the four band members, while you sat and watched. The song in question presently being discussed amongst the band was one “I’m In Love With My Car”, aka the pride and joy of Roger, who wanted it to be b-side to a rock opera Freddie called “Bohemian Rhapsody”. So far, Roger’s argument wasn’t going over well.

“I just don’t understand why there has to be any discussion on this!” Roger said exasperatedly. “I put my heart and soul into that song!”

“Nobody’s doubting that, Rog.“ Brian began gently. “It’s just...” He paused and took a measured breath, then continued hesitantly. “Perhaps it isn’t strong enough?”

“Isn’t strong enough?” repeated Roger, growing steadily more incredulous. “What does that even mean, ‘isn’t strong enough’?”

You groaned under your breath, you could see your boyfriend’s all-too-quick temper getting the best of him.

“It’s just—“ began Brian.

“It’s just nothing!” Roger spat. “That song is just as good as any of yours, you just want one of your songs as the b-side!”

“It’s not that, Rog.” Deaky said calmly, clearly trying to settle the mood.

“Then what is it?” Roger demanded, sitting down his teacup with a clatter. “Tell me what it is, then!”

You sighed, seeing this was not going to be pretty, and figured you’d better excuse yourself from this particular discussion. You made eye contact with Freddie, mimed a smoking gesture, and slipped out of the room.

You had just stepped outside the farmhouse with the cigarette you’d stolen from Roger’s pack in his room when there was an almighty crash from the kitchen where the band was, and the sound of breaking china. You rolled your eyes, clutched your cigarette between your fingers, and hurried off to see what the commotion was.

“FUCK ALL YOU LOT!” you heard Roger scream as you ran down the hallway towards the kitchen. “TRY TO RECORD AN ALBUM NOW!”

There was a loud slam of some sort of door, and when you entered back into the room, you found Brian, Deaky, and Freddie standing in the middle of a mess of broken teacups, a pool of spilled tea, and an overturned table.

“What the hell happened?” you demanded, staring in horrified shock at the destruction before you.

“Your car fucking boyfriend flipped the table, darling,” Freddie said, daintily taking a sip from his miraculously still-intact tea cup.

“He also got tea on my shirt.” added Deaky, poking unhappily at his stained polo shirt.

“And...then the kicker is now he’s locked himself in the storage cupboard.” finished Brian, his mouth set in a hard line.

“He’s done what?” you said, blinking at him.

“Locked himself in.” Brian repeated, nodding to the storage pantry in the corner of the kitchen. “He says he won’t come out until we make his car song the b-side to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.”

“It’s ‘I’m In Love With My Car’, you twat!” yelled Roger, but you were unable to discern the source of his muffled voice.

Still in shock, you looked between Deaky, Freddie, and Brian, before walking over to the pantry door and rapping on it experimentally.

“Rog?” you called through the door. “Are you in there?”

“Yes!” your boyfriend’s voice came defiantly from within the confines of the cupboard. “And I’m not coming out until they agree to my terms!”

You rolled your eyes, Roger always had a penchant for being dramatic.

“Roger, you can’t stay in there all evening!” you insisted.

“Why the hell not?” he yelled back. “There’s loads of food in here!”

Behind you, Queen’s guitarist gave an exasperated sigh.

“Roger, I swear,” Brian said loudly, fingertips pressed against his temples in what was apparently an effort to remain levelheaded. “Either you open that door, or I’ll break it down myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Roger shouted back. “What’re you gonna use, that beloved fireplace you call a guitar?”

Shit, you thought, he’s done it now.

In a flash, Brian had stepped over the broken glass, thrown off Deaky’s arm on his shoulder, and made for the door to the cupboard, which you immediately stepped in front of.

“Get out of the way, Y/N.” he said firmly, fingers balled into fists.

“Not if you’re going to break the door down.” you said, not moving an inch. You knew Brian, he would sooner kill a fly than raise a hand against you.

“This is a band discussion.” Brian said, his voice stern, but still calmer than he looked. “Let us handle this.” He took another step forward, and you intercepted him with a hand on his chest.

“You want him out of the cupboard, then you need to let me talk to him.” you said, low enough that only Brian, Freddie, and Deaky could hear you. “In the meantime, piss off until he calms down.”

Brian eyed you for a moment longer, then finally sighed, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the kitchen. Freddie muttered something about needing a smoke and walked off quickly in the direction of his bedroom. Suddenly, you were alone in the kitchen with Deaky, who was still standing in the middle of the broken china and spilled tea.

“Well,” he sighed after a moment, kicking at a bit of broken teacup on the floor. “So much for finishing the album lineup today.”

You gave him a sympathetic look, starting over to help him when he grabbed the table to turn it upright, but he held out a hand to stop you.

“Don’t, love. There’s glass everywhere.” he said quietly, gesturing to the floor. Deaky easily turned the table upright again, and stepped through the puddle of tea to put a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about this mess, we’ll clean it later. Just...try to get him out of there.” He nodded in the direction of the cupboard.

“I’ll do what I can, Deaks.” you promised him.

He nodded, gave your shoulder a pat, and squinted in the direction of the kitchen window.

“I’d best go make sure Brian hasn’t flung himself off a cliff,” he said, giving you a small smirk. “It’s going to be supremely hard to finish this album without a drummer and guitarist.”

You chuckled at his comment, happy for him lightening the mood, and waited for him to pad out of the kitchen before you knocked on the door of the cupboard again.

“Rog, they’re gone.” you called. “Come out now.”

“‘Fraid I can’t do that, love.” came Roger’s casual reply back through the hard wood. “Not until they agree to my terms.”

You rolled your eyes, but kept your cool. If he wanted to play games, you could play them too.

“Fine.” you said, straightening up. “If you won’t come out, then let me come in.”

There was silence from inside the cupboard, then came a sigh and the click of the lock, and you smirked. You opened the door slowly, and took in the sight of Roger sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest, leaning his back up against the bottom row of storage shelves that lined the walls. You stepped inside the storage cupboard gingerly, where there was just enough room for you to sit down across from Rog and be knee to knee with him. You did so, and placed a gentle hand on his knees when you sat down.

“Rog, I know you’re upset—“

“I’m beyond upset, Y/N.” Roger said simply, staring off into space. He shook his head and scrunched his face in frustration. “They won’t even listen to me.”

“They won’t listen to you when you’re locked in a food cupboard.” you said, cutting him off and giving him a pointed look. “I mean, you have to admit this is a bit much—“

Roger’s head snapped up.

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually agree with them!” he groaned, and made to stand up, which was difficult to do in such a tiny space. “My own girlfriend—“

“Roger,” you said, standing up and trying to put your hands on his shoulders. “Honey, I just mean that maybe the guys have a point! You doing this is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Jesus! What are you, my mother?” Roger snapped, shaking out of your grip. “You ought to date Brian instead, your attitudes are a match for each other.”

Your hand connected hard with the side of Roger’s face, and he yelped in pain, reeling back into the shelves behind him and clutching the offended cheek in surprise.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that shit to me,” you fumed, as he stared at you in shock. “I am the only friend you really have right now, so I suggest you either listen to my advice on how to make things right, or you plan to get cozy and spend the night in here! Understand?”

You stared at him, waiting for a reply, but he only flushed scarlet across from you and shifted his hips uncomfortably, eyes cast downwards.

You followed his gaze southward, and took in the sight of the prominent bulge making itself known in Roger’s pants.

“Oh Jesus Christ, Rog, seriously?”

“I’m sorry!” Roger sputtered, exasperated. “You know how I get when you boss me around!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to—“ you gestured to his crotch furiously, and rolled the eyes when it visibly twitched. “Oh for the love of God—“

“Just stop yelling at me, alright?” Roger said, hastily unzipping his pants and thrusting a hand down his underwear. “You go, I’ll take care of this.”

You watched his face contort in relief as his hand finally reached his cock, giving it a hard pump...and suddenly you had an idea.

“Rog, stop.”

“What?” he muttered, clearly not hearing you, as his eyes were still closed and his hand still gripped his length.

“Stop.” you grabbed the hand he currently had thrust down his pants and Roger’s eyes flew open.

“If you agree to stop acting like a goddamn child and man up, and listen to what the guys have to say...” you began slowly. “Then I’ll take care of that for you.” You nodded to his length that strained through the fabric of his underwear.

“Really?” he breathed, as if you meant it as a joke.

“Yes really.” you said, sighing and tucking your hair behind your ears. “I’m not your girlfriend for nothing.”

You made to smirk at him, but were caught off guard by his lips sealing around your own and kissing you passionately. You kissed him back heatedly in the small space of the cupboard, until the air grew hot and thick around you, and he was grinding his throbbing length hard into your thigh.

You pulled away, dropping to your knees and dragging his pants down with you. You jerked his underwear down enough to let his swollen cock spring free, and settled forward on your knees. You flicked your tongue across his tip lightly, making him tangle his hand in your hair. Smirking, you closed your lips around his hardened length, gripped his balls in one hand, and slid as much of him into your mouth as you could.

“Ah!” Roger cried out, hand clenching in your hair. “Fuck, baby—“

Encouraged by the way you could feel his hips starting to tremble, you began to bob your head up and down his length, teasing the tip with your tongue when you pulled out and hollowing your cheeks when you took him back in.

“More, baby—” Roger groaned above you, and you glanced up to see his blissed out expression. “God, you feel so good—“

You smiled, and continued on, bobbing your head with increased vigor, until you heard Roger’s breathing go ragged and felt his hips buck against your mouth. You looked up from your handiwork to see his face scrunched in pleasure, and his other hand gripping one of the cupboard shelves so hard his knuckles were white, trying to keep himself upright.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ The hand in your hair was pushing your face into his crotch harder. “I’m gonna—“

Knowing he was close, you pulled nearly all the way off him, gripped his balls with your hands, and slid your mouth clear up his shaft until his balls rested against your chin. You closed your lips tightly around his length, and Roger came with a cry, hips bucking as he spilled himself down your throat. You let him twitch for a moment longer in your mouth before pulling off him and wiping your lips. You tucked Roger back into his pants gently, then stood up, rested your hands on his shoulders, and took in the sight of his sweat drenched face.

“Well, now that I’ve upheld my end of the bargain,” you said, smiling slightly at him and brushing a sweaty strand of hair out of his face. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Ugh, do I have to?” Roger whined, giving you a disappointed look. “I was just starting to like it in here—“ He leaned forward to kiss you, an act that you only allowed for a moment before pulling away and pressing a finger to his lips.

“No excuses, mister.” you told him firmly. “I’m gonna go find the rest of the guys and once I bring them back here, you’re gonna all have a reasonable discussion about this whole b-side matter. Understand?”

“Yes.” Roger sighed, though he pouted.

“Good.” you said, and gave his cheek a quick peck with your lips before opening the door to the cupboard and stepping out into the still messy kitchen.

You had only just shut the door of the cupboard when into the kitchen walked Brian, Freddie, and Deaky.

“Nice timing, gentlemen,” you said, smiling. “Roger’s just told me it’s getting rather stuffy in the cupboard there and he’d quite like to come out now...” Here you paused your dramatic emphasis. “So he’s willing to have a civil discussion about whatever you’ve come up with.”

You started to ask Roger for confirmation of your words, but was cut off by Brian crossing the kitchen in three quick steps and throwing his arms around you.

“Brian—“ you gasped, patting the middle of his back gently, which was as high up on him as you could reach. “Can’t breathe—“

“You best let my girlfriend breathe, mate.” came Roger’s voice from next to you, and Brian released you, both of you turning to look at Roger as he exited the cupboard sheepishly.

“Rog, I’m sorry—“ Brian began, but Roger waved his hand at him lazily.

“Nah, fuck it, you were right.” he said, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light of the kitchen. “I’m sorry for my comment about your guitar. And the whole cupboard thing, I...I overreacted.”

“Overreacted, my arse.” muttered Deaky, from across the kitchen.

“I’m sorry about your shirt, Deaky, I’ll get you a new one, I promise.” Roger said, sighing. “I’m sorry for everything.”

The rest of the band muttered their forgiveness, and after a moment of silence, Roger spoke again.

“So...now that that’s done,” said Roger. “I promised Y/N I’d listen to you all.” He looked to Brian. “What are your terms for the b-side, then?”

“Well, though it pains me greatly and the rest of the band as a whole,” said Brian, smirking slightly. “We have taken into account the work you put in on your car song—”

“I’m In Love With My Car.” interrupted Roger, giving him a pointed look.

“Right, I’m In Love With My Car,” Brian began again. “After much deliberation, we appreciate the work you’ve put into the song, and...since the record company said they want a song the kids can get into, we think it’s worthy enough to be the b-side to Bohemian Rhapsody.” he smiled.

Your mouth dropped open in surprise, and you laughed as Roger blinked, overcome with happiness.

“Is this a joke?” he finally managed to squeak out, voice barely a whisper.

“No joke, darling,” Freddie said, smirking. “And besides, how are we going to finish this album with our drummer locked in a food cupboard?”

You laughed along with the rest of the band, and while the other guys busied themselves with cleaning up the spilled tea and broken china from earlier, Roger pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your hair.

“Thank you.” he whispered. “For everything.”

“No problem.” you said, giving him a gentle squeeze around the waist in response. “Now go help the guys clean up before they overreact and lock themselves away somewhere.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor smut #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor imagines #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #ridge farm #roger taylor fanfic

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sserpente · 7 years

Photo

A/N: I said I would do it… and now I’ve done it! ;-) Here’s my first Jonathan Pine Imagine. There will be more with him for sure! Have fun!

2nd October: Wicked seduction. 🍸 | feat. Jonathan Pine

Words: 3166 Warnings: smut

“This is ridiculous!” You complained with a tortured expression on your face, staring at your reflection in the mirror of the fancy hotel room your best friend (Y/F/N) had booked for the two of you. It was Halloween and instead of letting you take a hot bath, watch some scary horror movie and drink absurdly expensive red wine in this luxurious hotel, she would drag you along to this snobby Halloween party in the lobby.

Costumes were a must, which had resulted in (Y/F/N) doing some last minute shopping. You had merely told her about how you wanted to dress up as a black cat, for it was easy, comfortable and convenient to put on. Now that you were looking at yourself in the mirror, however, you regretted the decision of letting her buy you the costume. It was way too revealing. The miniskirt she had gotten you barely covered your buttocks, the thin pullover was cut low and would offer every other guest a broad view of your cleavage and the slight hills of your breasts. With the fluffy tail attached to the skirt, black cat ears clipped into your (Y/H/C) hair and your dark make-up including three thin stripes on each of your cheek drawn there with your eyeliner, you did look like a cat—but much rather a porn cat at that.

“I look like a prostitute, (Y/F/N)! Why do I have to go to that party with you again?” You asked, hearing her giggle in response from the bathroom where she was applying her own make-up. She had decided to dress up as a devil. A sexy devil, not to mention.

“I am heartbroken and I want to spend all of my ex-boyfriend’s money with the credit card I took from him. You will be my support and my security guard if I end up throwing up in the bushes or start riding the baggage cars like a surfboard.” She replied for surely the third time already.

Right. Keith Leonard. Her ex-boyfriend. A cunning billionaire who had blackmailed her into this relationship all the while cheating on her with actual playboy models. It had taken (Y/F/N) a long while to realise he was after dirty sex and reputation only, especially with an awful lot of persuasion on your behalf.

You’d always known there was something wrong with that billionaire. (Y/F/N) had snapped when she had found out about the sex trafficking crimes he had wanted to drag her into. “Slut sharing” as he had called it, offering her to be passed around as his property for his friend’s pleasure in exchange for some cash. Disgusting idiot. (Y/F/N) had been able to get out of there before things got too critical, not, however, before sneaking one of his credit cards into her pocket before leaving. Her brother had taken care of the invisibility of the expenses, so the billionaire wasn’t able to track her down. Now here you were. Suffering with her and helping her get over her heartache in an outrageously revealing costume to go to a Halloween party in a bloody five star hotel. Well, it could be worse, you figured.

Finally, (Y/F/N) stepped out of the bathroom. She looked as stunning as always, with red highlights in her hair and her face accentuating her eyes and two red horns on top of her head.

“Who knows, maybe tonight, you’ll get laid too. You really need it, (Y/N), you started giving names to the plants in your apartment!”

“Talking to them helps them grow,” you scowled, crossing your arms. “I read it online.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Your best friend rolled her eyes. “Let’s go have some fun.”

It resulted in the same situation every time the both of you went out for the night. (Y/F/N) was flirting with everything that looked male for hours on end while you kept sitting at the bar in an unmotivated manner, watching her picking her prey. You couldn’t blame her, really. Men repeatedly fell to her feet and for her charm and especially after that billionaire, she deserved a bit of fun. You would have fun with your cocktail—a new cocktail. Yours was empty again.

Just as the thought stroke you, the bartender placed a glass filled with an orange liquid in front of you.

“I didn’t order that,” you remarked with a frown, doubting that he had read your thoughts. The bartender nodded. “That man over there did.”

Instantly, your eyes widened. Guys never bought you drinks. (Y/F/N) was usually the one who got all the attention. You simply stayed put in the background, sipping your drink and pondering about why life was so damn unfair and what exactly about your appearance it was that scared all the dudes away. It must have been the costume you wore. It practically screamed “I’m willing, take me!”

Following the bartender’s finger as he pointed to his left, your heart filled with even more surprise as it skipped a beat. He was… he was bloody handsome. The shirt he wore looked like it had been tailored for him, his muscles, clearly visible under the thin fabric, bulged as he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, his long digits resting on the smooth and cold surface. He had piercing blue eyes and dark blonde hair, his jawline was sharp. He was tall, too. Much taller than you were; and the only hint of a costume was a black mask covering the rest of his face. You could swear he had not been there only seconds ago. What was it he was portraying tonight? A phantom?

He noticed you were mustering him only the twinkling of an eye after. His blue eyes met yours, locking you in place as jolts of electricity cursed through your body, tingling from head to toe. It was like by simply staring at you in this scrutinising and yet alluring manner, he was learning all of your darkest secrets—it filled you with both fear and excitement.

“Thank you,” you mouthed out of breath, eliciting an enchanting smirk from him. Another second passed before he started strolling over to you, his confident tread sending shivers down your spine. His sheer presence was breath-taking. You could smell the hint of an expensive perfume on him, admire his features up close. He… seemed like a decent and honourable man. Maybe just this once, you would get lucky too.

“Jonathan Pine,” he introduced himself, offering you his hand. You took it after returning his polite smile, attempting to ignore how soft it felt. Electric thrills shot through your body when you touched him.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Thank you for the drink.”

“No need to thank me. I’ve been watching you for quite a while already, (Y/N).” The way he spoke your name… it sounded like you had given him power over you… and you were yet to find out whether this was a good thing. “You look gorgeous.” And he had an English accent. Your knees melted to pudding already.

Compliments. When was the last time a man had given you compliments? Oh, this guy was heaven!

“Th-thank you. And, uh, you decided to revive the Phantom of the Opera?” You asked, tugging a streak of your hair behind your ear.

Jonathan chuckled, facing the expensive carpet for a moment. “Yes, so to speak. Listen, I, uh… I normally don’t do this but I was wondering… could we go somewhere private? It’s quite full here,”

Once again, your eyes widened. Somewhere private? This man looked like the personification of a true English Gentleman. One night with him… what woman wouldn’t kill for that? So you bit your lower lip and nodded.

“Of course,” you answered with a seductive—or at least you hoped it would appear so—smile. “It’s way too crowded here, you’re right.”

You did not object when Jonathan suggested going to your suite instead of his. Perhaps he wasn’t the tidiest of people. The cleaner wouldn’t return until tomorrow morning, after all. So you led him to (Y/F/N)’s and your room instead, grateful for having put away all of the make-up before leaving. It would have been a chaotic mess.

“So… there we go, this is our—“ You didn’t even get to finish your sentence. Jonathan’s mouth was on yours before you were even able to switch on the lights. His thin and oh so soft lips moved against yours, his hands seemed to be touching you everywhere. Greedily, they travelled down your body and probed your hips before coming to a rest on your arse, kneading it eagerly.

Your tongues were fighting a vengeful battle, fighting for dominance Jonathan rapidly won by pushing you against a nearby wall, pinning you against it. He pulled away from your now swollen lips only to attack your neck with moist and hot kisses, licking over your pulse attentively and sucking the sensitive skin between his lips to leave love bites, all the while his hands reached down to push up your skirt until it was resting around your hips.

Your panties were anything but sexy but right now, you couldn’t care less. It was dark in the room anyway. All you were able to focus on were his long and sinful digits, tracing your flesh and ghosting over the soft skin on your thighs before sneaking between them.

Growling in an animalistic manner, he claimed your mouth again, kissing you passionately, longingly even as he tore the thin piece of fabric to the side to expose your glistening sex to him. Oh, bloody hell, you were so wet for him. Your folds were shimmering with moisture, your slick arousal coating his skin as he ran two fingers over them, forcing you to moan into his mouth and shiver under his light touch.

He wasted no time in exploring your most intimate parts until he found what he was looking for. Your swollen clit was throbbing with need, begging for attention he was promising to give it. Painfully slow, he tapped it twice before circling it over and over again.

Already, you could feel yourself climbing the ladder of climax. He knew what he was doing, knew exactly how to pleasure a woman. You were jelly in his arms and if he hadn’t pressed you against the wall, your legs would have ceased to support you any longer by now.

Soon, he replaced his index finger with his thumb, collecting a bit more of your juices to massage your sensitive bundle of nerves even firmer. His fingers went travelling again, this time teasing your entrance, relentlessly, until you were but a whining and moaning mess before him.

No man had ever been able to bring you this close to orgasm with just his fingers!

Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you tensed up as he pushed them deep inside you, curling them at just the right spot. Jonathan started fingering you furiously, his thumb never stopping to rub your swollen nub.

“Fuck, Jonathan, I-I’m… I’m gonna cum!” You yelled into the still dark room. His growl was the only sound you got in response but it was enough to send you flying over the edge. Your orgasm tore through you vividly, robbing you of all your senses. A glistening light seemed to spread around you, the hot waves of the aftershocks having you tremble and spasm, again and again, around his wonderful fingers, coating them with your cum.

When you had cooled down again, Jonathan stopped, only slowly removing his fingers from your still pulsating walls, contracting around nothingness when he slid them out of you. As you were slumping down, exhausted beyond sanity, he quickly caught you, lifting you up effortlessly and gently laying you down on the bed. He joined you when you sat up despite your light dizziness, your cheeks still hot and red from all the pure pleasure rushing through your veins.

“Was that good?” He whispered hoarsely. Desire was sparkling in his blue eyes. Those beautiful eyes that had watched you come undone…

“That… that was more than just good, that was… amazing… It’s your turn now.” You decided, attempting to push him down on the bed. You wanted to give him the pleasure he had just let you experience, give something back for those blissful minutes. Normally, you didn’t even do blowjobs, for you had quite the strong gag reflex but for him, you would try. You’d sink to your knees for that man in any sense, anyway, for Fuck’s sake.

He, however, didn’t move an inch.

“I can’t go any fur—“ he stopped in mid-sentence as if he had prattled away. “(Y/N), you have a friend. Her name is (Y/F/N)…”

Oh. Disappointment rushed through your veins. This guy had just made you cum on his fingers and now he asked for your best friend instead. Were you not sexy enough after all? Were you not as wild in bed as she would be? But then again, how would he know?

“What about her?” You asked, trying hard to sound unaffected. Still, your voice was shaking. All of a sudden, you were close to tears, combined with the feeling of the growing urge to punch him in the face.

“Is she… is she in a relationship? Currently?”

Now, your felt your heart shattering into a thousand pieces. A guy… so charming and considerate, who was using sex—or fingering for that matter—for the sole purpose of engaging another woman… that was new. However, it hurt all the more. The moment you had shared with him was intimate, personal. You didn’t usually do one night stands but for this guy, you jettisoned all of your morals and principles. That’s what you get if you let your heart win, you stupid bitch!

“Wow. And here I was, thinking that for once, a guy might actually like me over my perfect best friend.”

Jonathan paused, irritated. “What? No, (Y/N), you are a wonderful woman, I simply thought…”

“What?! You thought what? ‘Hey, this girl looks lonely and desperate, let’s stand her a drink and then fuck her senseless for information about another woman’?!” The tears were worsening your sight now, stinging in your eyes.

“Look. I am not who you think I am. I’m after Keith Leonard and your friend will bring me a huge step closer to him.”

What? Keith Leonard? “The billionaire?” You asked, frowning.

“Yes. You know him.”

“I’ve met him twice. (Y/F/N) and he dated for a few months before… well, before…”

“Before he tried to sell her as a sex slave to his billionaire friends?” He finished your sentence. Frowning once more, you nodded. “It’s short of a miracle she made it out alive.”

“Who are you?” You asked, suspicious with a start. What if he was working for him? What if he had found you both despite (Y/F/N)’s brother’s painstaking safety measures? You had to let her know, you had to…

Slowly, Jonathan shook his head, glancing at you in a both scolding and caring way. “Knowing would put you in danger.”

Immediately, anger boiled in your stomach again, your fear forgotten for a moment.

“Oh? But seducing me for information wouldn’t put me in danger?! Guess I was just a convenience, wasn’t I?” You spat, you tears rolling down your cheeks freely now.

“When I engaged you, I was not sure whatsoever if you were who I was looking for. (Y/F/N)’s best friend, the girl she had bolted with, with a massive amount of money stolen from Keith Leonard. I didn’t even know your name but I knew (Y/F/N)’s and when you brought me to this suite and I saw the room number, I could be sure it was you.”

He was trying to explain he would have tested his flirting skills on you either way. You appreciated the thought but in the end, you were still nothing more than a tool. Why the fuck would you be happy about his remark then? Why did you hope he would stop playing detective for a second and fuck you into the mattress until you forgot your own bloody name anyway?!

“And now what? You want me to help you snuff the billionaire?” You snapped defiantly.

“No. I need (Y/F/N)’s phone. My colleagues will be able to track down some dirty details of Leonard’s whereabouts. He bought it for her, didn’t he?”

“He did…”

(Y/F/N) kept her phone in the safe. During the party, so she had claimed, she wouldn’t need it anyway. Jonathan was lucky. Or maybe he had known anyway. Only God knew for long he had been spying on your best friend already.

“Why didn’t you just ask her yourself?”

“My profession requires of me to be discreet at all times. Plus I desperately wanted to know what you look like when you scream in ecstasy,” he shot back with a lustful sparkling in his blue eyes. Gulping, you pressed your thighs together. His words had sent a thrill of excitement right into your wet core. You were ready to cum for him again if that was what he wanted.

“F-fine, let me get it for you.” You finally stuttered, your voice barely audible.

Your legs trembling a little, you got up and walked over to the safe. Typing in the combination, you watched the Englishman from the corner of your eye. He was still sitting there patiently, never taking his eyes off your form until you returned to him and handed him (Y/F/N)’s phone.

He was quick to unlock it, leaving you wondering where the hell he had gotten the pin code and then proceeded to press a few buttons and scribble down a gibberish of numbers and letters on a piece of paper, which he tugged safely into his pockets after he was done and gave it back to you.

“Thank you, (Y/N). You really helped me with this. I cannot make any promises but I will try and bring that coward down. For all the girls he ever forced into prostitution and (Y/F/N), of course.” He stated dryly. Honesty was humming in his voice, along with sincere cordiality. You believed him. You believed every word, even if he had just fooled you and your burning desire but you just couldn’t help it. There was something about him that intrigued you, although you knew nothing at all about him.

Jonathan took a step forward to cup your face with his large and soft hands, kissing you tenderly one more time before taking his leave.

“C-can I see you again?” You hurried to say.

Jonathan smirked. “I would love that, (Y/N). I’ll find you when the time is right.”

And with that, he left the suite, leaving you wondering idly how the hell you would explain all of this to your best friend once she came back from her one night stand. You bet it wouldn’t even be half as exciting as what you had just experienced.

#jonathan pine #jonathan pine imagine #jonathan pine x reader #jonathan pine x you #jonathan pine smut #the night manager #the night manager imagine #bbc #tom hiddleston #the night manager smut #andrew birch #jack linden #thomas quince

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rauliskafan · 7 years

Text

A Little Lesson in Mornings After

Authors’ Note: Happy Sunday, sensational readers!!! Hope that everyone had a wonderful weekend and that you enjoyed last night’s trip back in time with Rafael and Natalia!!! In keeping with that theme, join our two lovebirds again way back when. Specifically, it’s the morning after their first... well you know!!! And for anyone that’s interested, here’s two more blasts from the past, the big date leading up to the big night!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I hope that you enjoy!!!

Rafael woke first. Not to sunlight pouring through his window but rather to the sound of a gentle rain smattering against the glass. Blinking hard for a few seconds, wondering where the fading vanilla scent came from, his eye caught the half-empty pizza box, and recollection slammed his senses at full force. He twisted quickly in the sheets to find Natalia still slumbering at his side, her honey-colored hair spilling over her silky shoulders, and the corners of her pale pink lips curled into the faintest of smiles. Not wanting to rouse her, content to simply watch her sleep, he remembered touching her skin, the way her tongue tasted when mingled with his… the overwhelming sensation of expanding inside her until his body calmed and he did not, would not relinquish how it felt to be a part of her. He had watched her sleep then before chasing her into dreams, and he was careful now so as not to break the spell… even as he could not resist the urge to brush a few strands of fallen hair from her rosy cheeks.

“Hmmm.”

Damn! So much for keeping his fingers feather light. She started to stir, and Rafael inched back to his pillow, caught between wanting to hear her sweet voice and simply admire her sleeping form.

But neither choice had anything on her eyes, her long lashes fluttering to reveal the light brown orbs so lovely. Holding his breath, he watched her face mirror his own most recent feelings, taking several seconds to understand her surroundings. She never flinched or scrunched her nose in confusion; she only focused on his stare, and he slowly saw her grin grow until she reached for his face.

“Good morning, counselor,” she said, her smile intensifying with each syllable uttered. Rafael took her hand in his and let his own smile dot the tips of her fine nails, never leaving her eyes as he finally eased her to his chest.

“Morning,” he started. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” she purred, stretching her arms to loop them around his neck and bestowing a tiny kiss on his brow. “You?”

“I can’t remember when… I didn’t hog the covers, did I?”

“Do you make a habit of that?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Possibly,” he admitted. “Be honest; you can tell me.”

“Not at all, Rafael,” she assured him. “I was very warm next to you. All night long.”

At the sound of her words, he felt his chest swell ever so slightly, and he pulled her even closer, letting his lips meet her temple as he ran his hands down her smooth sides.

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “I wanted you to be… comfortable.”

“Oh, I was a little more than that,” she giggled, rolling him to his back and lying across his chest. Peppering his jaw with more kisses than he could count, Rafael relished the feel of her lips brushing against him. He waited with his mouth slightly parted. When she was close enough for his kiss to claim hers, he savored her there until she slipped to his side, all the while keeping her hands pressed to his face.

“What about you?” Natalia asked. “You didn’t exactly answer my question.”

“Didn’t I?” he asked, his mind drifting to parts unknown as he played with her hair rumpled into curls on account of sleep.

“Is that a courtroom trick?” she asked. “Bet you have a lot of witnesses who try to turn things around on you.”

“They rarely succeed,” Rafael said

“Of that I have no doubt,” Natalia said. “But I’d still like an answer to my question.”

“Would you now?” he teased, and she traced his earlobe with one finger while peering into his eyes.

“I insist,” she said. “I believe you started saying something about how you couldn’t remember…”

“…when I slept so soundly,” he said. “For… reasons.” When he waggled his eyebrows, it caused her to laugh, and Natalia cuddled into his chest. Leaving his ear, her fingers trickled down his torso, tracing circles and stars and so many other shapes into his waiting and willing flesh until he tenderly held her wrist and stared at her again.

“Problem?” she queried. “Are you ticklish?”

“You really don’t even have to ask,” he said. “Are you?”

“Let’s just say I’d rather you not put it to the test.”

Agreeing, he winded his arms around her waist and nodded into her neck.

“Point taken,” he conceded. “I’ll rephrase.”

“That’s your lawyer lingo,” she observed.

“Very good,” he murmured. “Answer me this.”

His tongue suddenly tied in his throat at the feel of her warm breath rising towards his mouth, her kiss present there once more. Natalia cradled the back of his head and helped him to share her pillow as she propped her body up on one elbow to look down at him.

“Is there a question coming?” she asked. Obviously someone who had watched one too many cable crime dramas. Or else she already knew him like the back of her hand. Rafael pecked her nose and sighed against her cheek.

“I want to know everything about you,” he began.

“That’s a tall order,” she said with a small groan. “Where do I even start?”

“Tell me about your family.”

“You’ve seen it all up close,” Natalia said. “Just me and my mother.”

“So no siblings?” he asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I would have liked to have had a sister but…”

Seeing her sad, he let that line of questioning drop and stroked her shoulders, running his other hand along the edge of her arm.

“Did you always want to be a teacher?” he asked.

“I love children,” she said.

“So that’s a yes?” he continued.

“Unequivocally,” Natalia replied. “And you always wanted to be a lawyer.”

“Is that a question?” he asked.

“No; I’m just stating the facts,” she said.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you knew me for all of five minutes, and you just had to pick a fight,” Natalia said. She kissed him again before he could respond, and Rafael let his head drop to her firm breasts. Kissing her there, careful not to tickle lest he scare her away, he smiled into her skin, his lips on her hands as they made their way down his cheeks.

“How is that possible?” Natalia asked.

“Meaning?” he challenged.

“Well you… you were freshly shaved last night. And now…”

“It happens,” he said, blushing behind the beard just beginning and almost wanting to hide his head in the pillows when Natalia lifted his eyes to hers.

“It’s a nice look,” she mused. “I’ve never met a man who could do it… I mean this…” she stroked his face for emphasis. “…so fast.”

“Now you can say that you’ve met me.”

Wanting to hold her again and let his lips drift down her sides, her legs, Rafael was surprised when she suddenly shot up and folded her knees to her chest.

“What’s wrong?” he worriedly asked, joining her upright and rubbing her back.

“I don’t usually do this,” Natalia said.

“Guess I’m lucky that---”

“I mean I don’t just fall into bed with a man after two dates.” She seemed embarrassed, and Rafael gingerly placed an arm around her slightly sagging shoulders. Grateful when she did not resist his touch, he pressed his lips to her ear.

“It’s not exactly two, Natalia,” he said.

“Yes it is, Rafael,” she insisted. “One night dancing, and one night at the opera.”

“One dinner at my mother’s and one night… when you put me in my place.”

Turning to look at him with wide eyes, Natalia started to speak when he kissed her and took her face in his hands.

“I won’t count when Liv and I came around to your classroom,” he continued. “But the fact is… we’ve known each other for a while.”

“And thought about one another while we were apart,” she said, barely suppressing a gasp right after the words came out, a sound that he kissed away as he studied her face.

“You were on my mind, too,” he admitted. “And now you’re here.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

Lacing their fingers together, they fell back to the pillows as the rain intensified from outside, and Rafael brought the blankets over their bodies. For a long time, they just lay together. Her hums seemed off key but still sounded so sweet, and every inch of him that her fingers missed was met by her lips until she hovered over his mouth again. Once she was there, Rafael kissed her lovingly, lifting her from the sheets as their smiles mingled in the morning air.

“Are you hungry?” he finally asked.

“Hmmm… maybe just a little. We still have some pizza, right?”

He felt his eyes bulge for a second but relaxed into the tone of her laughter.

“I can do a little better than that,” he offered. “At least eggs and toast. And I have to have some coffee.”

“Something you need to be wide awake for?” she quipped, leaving his bed and slipping into his discarded dress shirt. He liked the look of it on her, and the sight spurred him forward.

“Just you wait,” he said, racing for the door as she cleared her throat.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Are you going to put something on?” she asked, wiggling her fingers towards him and climbing over the bed to touch him again. “Or are you planning on giving Mrs. Felcher the thrill of her life?”

“She’s spoken for,” Rafael reminded Natalia as he kissed her wrists. “And besides; she doesn’t have this view from her window.”

“Good,” Natalia said. “Because I’m pretty sure she could take me down if she set her mind to it.”

As if she could ever lose anything to any woman of any age or rank or walk in this world. But he kept that thought to himself and let Natalia guide his arms into his robe.

“Can we turn that eggs and bread into French toast?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes and earning his laughter.

“With syrup or powdered sugar?” he asked.

“Do you have both?” she hopefully inquired.

“Let’s find out.”

With her hand in his, Rafael led Natalia to his kitchen. Cracking the eggs to beat them in a bowl before soaking the bread, he watched her stand on tiptoe. His shirt rose and unveiled a hint of her ass as she pulled one box and one bottle from the top cupboard.

“You do have both!” Natalia happily exclaimed. “But now I can’t decide.”

“I can,” he said, turning the toast on the skillet and kissing the top of her head. “I choose you.”

Slowly, Natalia let the box and the bottle slip to the counter and patted his cheek.

“And what really happens next, Rafael?” she asked. “I mean… I mean after breakfast.”

“I… well…”

His heart stalled in his chest as he gazed at her with the spatula in hand. The weather was far to foul to take a walk. Maybe a movie? Always a chance of finding some lost treasure on cable. Or a crime show if that’s what she preferred. He would try his best not to point out the inaccuracies in every scene. Only…

“I’d like you to stay, Natalia,” he murmured. “For today. Or longer. I… I mean I…”

“Hold up,” she said with a hand in the air, dashing from his side before he could catch her. He left the French toast burning, the spatula falling to the sink. Shit. Coming on too strong? Too much too soon? Strange to think as much after they’d spent the night together.

“Should have just sat down to eat,” he muttered under his breath. “If she’s ticklish, then she’s guarded. And now she must think that I’m---”

“Rafael?”

Whipping his head over his shoulder, he saw her still wearing his shirt with her hair tied in a bun over her neck.

“Natalia? Does this mean that you’re---?”

“Staying?” she said, finishing his thought. “Of course. I want breakfast.”

She made a face as she seized the spatula and pried the charred piece of toast from the skillet. And quickly started a fresh batch of her own.

“Plus, I want our fifth date and our sixth before the weekend is out,” she said, stretching to the tips of her toes again to kiss his cheek.

“You do!” he practically shouted, relaxing when she lowered her eyelids. “But then… where did you go?”

“To call my mother,” Natalia said, looking at him again. “Contrary to whatever impression I’ve given you, I am a good girl.”

He watched without words as she prepared and plated the French toast, but before she could drizzle the syrup and the sugar over the browned bread, Rafael gathered her in his arms and pressed his nose to hers.

“Counselor, what---?”

“La mejor chica,” he said. “No other words to describe you.”

Smiling, Natalia kissed him full on the mouth until they needed to catch their breath. Leaving him with one arm around his neck, she poured his coffee and brought the cup close to his lips.

“Give us time,” she said. “I bet we’ll figure all kinds of other things out.”

#raul esparza #rafael barba #natalia barba #a hard lesson series #little lessons #law and order svu #svu fanfiction

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[SP] The Masquerade

Note: This is a stand-alone vignette set in the same universe as a long-form story I'm working on, The Heplion Contingency, which is in a cyberpunk/space opera setting where psychic powers take the place of technology. This story (and others) can also be found in Wattpad and in my writing blog.

Three Towers Inn. The Abyri-style pub’s name was as generic as they came, but Maya didn’t mind. There was something comforting about its lazy stereotyping. You know what to expect from this place, it seemed to suggest, and that familiarity was precious when settling into a new town. Especially when one has something to hide… which Maya did. Being constantly on guard was stressful, so any occasion to under-analyze was welcome.

She opened the door, stepped inside, and sighed deeply. The muggy air inside, lined with the smell of wood paneling, filled her lungs as the buzz of idle conversation washed over her, interspersed with the lull of some folk-pop on the phonograph. Welp, time to start it all over again, she thought as she briefly scanned the place – phony-vintage décor all around, furnishing that leaned more toward cozy than chic, and a remarkably diverse-looking crowd, a lot of it non-human. Since there’s nobody I know who can show me the ropes around here, this looks like as good a place as any to start from scratch.

She slowly walked toward the bar, eyeing a couple ladies who seemed more or less promising. No rush, she thought. Better take it slow, not blow it on my first day here. She rapped the counter thrice for luck – once for the Father, once for the Mother, once for the Elder – and hailed the bartender. “Beer,” she called out.

“New in the area?” the Halachian bartender, a hulking figure with a slanting forehead and large teeth, asked as he brought her drink.

“Yeah, just moved in.” Maya took a sip. “Aaah. Good stuff.”

The bartender smiled. “Huxtaber. Not many people know it, but if you ask me, nothing beats it.”

“You know how to make a girl happy.” She raised the glass in a toast and took a swig.

“You looking to make friends? ‘Cause you’ve got a candidate,” he said, pointing with his chin.

Maya sighed. Here come the creeps, she thought, and slowly turned around to see who he was indicating. To her glad surprise, it was a young, light-skinned woman, leaned against the wall by the pool table, who was intently eyeing her with a smirk.

Am I really this lucky? Maya thought. It was just a random bar, not the local scene; she expected a lot of fruitless nights before she found someone like her. Well, she wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. She smiled at the girl for a second and turned back toward the bar, with trained discretion.

“Hello there,” the lady said a short while later, sitting beside Maya. Her playful tone indicated she really was in the right track. “Love seeing a new face around here.”

Maya smirked. “Yeah, I’m new in town. Fresh off the portal today, in fact. Say, you having anything?”

“Same as yours sounds good.” She kept her intense eyes fixed on Maya’s. “So, where are you from?”

“One of these for her,” Maya said to the bartender. “Oh, and Abyron. Lived there my whole life, in fact.”

“Wow, really? This place must look so corny for you! I actually feel bad for you, seeing your culture butchered like this.”

Maya laughed. “Nah, it’s fine. I like it, really. Abyri pubs are the same all around the galaxy, y’know? So even the phoniness feels really familiar.”

The girl picked up her beer. “I see. And I guess we’re pretty used to phoniness in our daily lives, huh?” She stared deeply into Maya as she took a swig.

“You know it, girl. Can’t put the mask down.” She held the other woman’s gaze for a while, drinking in the moment. “Oh. I’m Maya.”

“Anji.” They exchanged two brief kisses in the cheek. “My pleasure.”

“Why, hello there, Anji.” She laid her head on her hand, elbow on the counter. “Gotta say, I’m really glad to have found you. Thought it’d take me forever to run across someone like us in here.”

Anji laughed. “Yeah, I know what that’s like. Took me a couple months to find the local scene when I rolled into town, myself. Can you imagine, all that time alone?”

“Wow, months? And I thought Abyron was hard… Aren’t there a lot of us here?”

“There are, but you know how it is. It’s not like we advertise ourselves. It’s a big city, and without anyone to introduce you, takes a while to find the others.”

Maya held Anji’s hand, smiling. “Seems I was really lucky to find you, then.”

Anji smiled back. “You were. And yeah, I decided to take a chance. Maybe it’s because of how it was for me, but when I saw you giving off signs, I thought I wouldn’t wait around for confirmation.”

“Really glad you did, girl. Sticking your neck out like that, coming on to someone you’re not sure is up for it. Thanks… really.”

“So…” Anji took another pull of her beer. “You ready to meet the rest?”

“Really?” Maya was fine with just enjoying Anji… but, on the other hand, she could really use the feeling of community right then. “You’re introducing me to the local scene? I’ve heard it’s wild!”

“You have no idea.” She had a wicked look. “Hey, there’s a club where we can be ourselves.” She leaned in and whispered. “I mean, really be ourselves… or whoever we want. No masks… unless you want them, that is.”

“Wow… I mean, I’ve heard about places like that, but never thought I’d go to one!” She laughed. “You must be thinking it’s really backward where I’m coming from, and I’d say you’re about right…”

“I’m talking total freedom,” Anji whispered. “Let your imagination run wild, y’know?”

“I don’t know…” Maya’s smile betrayed her excitement. “I mean, I’d love to meet our local fellows, but I’ve never let myself just… go like that, y’know?”

“Come on… wouldn’t you like to just be yourself? I know it can be scary, but I promise you, once you’ve tried it, you’ll be glad you did.”

“Ah, what the hell!” She got her wallet out to pay for their beers. “You only live once, right?”

“That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s ditch this place.”

A couple minutes later, they were in a cab, rolling toward the harbor district. Maya didn’t quite catch the address – not that it would’ve done her a whole lot of good if she had, with how unfamiliar she was with the city. The recklessness of what she was doing made her heart race… and she liked it. Well, being in the back of a cab with a hot girl was appealing, too – but Maya realized the uncertainty, the whole danger of going to a seedy part of town in the middle of the night with someone she just knew, thrilled her as well.

Anji remained silent throughout the trip. She stole glances at Maya once in a while, a mischievous smile on her face, as if she could barely contain an exciting secret. Maya, for her part, would rather throw herself at Anji right then and there, the cab’s conductor be damned – however, feeling in uncertain footing, she thought it best to leave the initiative to the other girl. I’ve gotten this far, she pondered. Don’t have an opportunity like this every day… better not blow it by being too thirsty.

At last, after what seemed like an interminable ride, they arrived at a small alley tucked between warehouses, entirely too quiet at this hour of the night for comfort. “Don’t worry,” Anji said, apparently sensing Maya’s apprehension. “The area’s safer than it looks. We make sure of that.”

“O…kay.” Maya wasn’t sure if that last part made her feel more or less secure, but she was in too deep to start wondering now. “Lead the way, then!”

The pair left the cab and made their way to a discreet iron door at the edge of one of the warehouses. A large man, wearing a cheap suit and a grim face, stood beside it with crossed arms. As they approached, he followed them with a distrustful gaze, in silence.

“Hey there, Ashkon!” Anji said, with a chipper smile. “It’s me, Anji!”

The man’s face opened up. “Oh, hi, Anji! Looking good today, huh?”

“Thanks! I’ve found this lost sheep that I’m bringing back to our herd.” She tugged at Maya’s arm.

“Uh, hi there!” Maya waved. “I’m Maya.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ashkon said. He produced a set of keys, unlocked the door with a loud clang, and opened it for them. “Please, come in.”

“I’ve never seen a nightclub this… discreet,” Maya said, as she followed her partner into a narrow corridor and down a couple flights of stairs.

“What can I say?” Anji shrugged. “It’s exclusive. Just us. Gotta make sure of that, right?”

“I suppose so…” This has better be really good, Maya thought.

At the bottom of the stairs, another burly man guarded a heavy door. “Anji”, the mysterious girl said. “And this is Maya. She’s one of us.”

The man nodded, and then unlocked and opened the door without saying a word. “Jambie’s quiet, but he’s really sweet,” Anji whispered.

Some light piano music wafted out of the door, together with a quiet, subdued buzz of conversation. As the pair stepped inside, Maya was struck by an astonishing scene, whose visual extravagance poorly matched the tinny sounds that preceded it.

A wild menagerie of creatures, vaguely humanoid in shape but highly varied in every other aspect, was scattered across the tables of a finely appointed dining hall. A purple-skinned, green-haired woman was talking to a large, upright-walking cat and a shifting blob of oozing orange flesh nearby. At a buffet counter to the side, a being with a serpent’s head and bright, multicolored feathers all over their body patiently waited for their turn, while what looked like a short, wide man made of moss-covered rock availed himself of hors d’oeuvres. A wild bout of laughter came from a table, where a hyena-headed woman wildly gesticulated, cocktail cup in hand, while telling some story to a group of friends, one of them consisting of a collection of simple, blocky shapes in primary colors. A young woman who appeared to be made of ice sat silently across a large man, whose bulbous, bulging flesh constantly changed colors and textures. And, interspersed among the crowd, there were several creatures with the same appearance – humanoids with metallic, shimmering skin, broad arms and legs ending in three thick digits each, and completely smooth, featureless heads that jutted out from their torsos at a forward angle.

A rasping laughter came from Maya’s side. “C’mon, don’t just stand there gawking! Let’s mingle a bit.” She turned and saw the voice came from what looked like a rainbow-colored wolf person.

“W-what’s going on here?” Maya asked, nervous. “Who are you?”

“What? You don’t like it?” The wolf-person laughed again. “Oh, I see. That’s not how you met me. I’ll change back, if it makes you more comfortable.” The creature’s form shifted, its snout pulling back into its face, hair growing out on top of its head and being reabsorbed into the skin on the rest of the body, its size, proportions and color changing, until it settled in the form Maya had known as Anji. “I’ll still go back to that one tonight, though,” she said, wagging her finger. “Been meaning to try it out for a while.”

“Wha… aaaaahhhh!” Maya had so many questions at once that she couldn’t manage to formulate anything other than a primal scream.

“Lady?” One of the metallic-skinned creatures approached, gently touching Maya’s shoulder with its three knobby fingers. “Are you alright?” it said, with a voice like a coil being scraped across a lead pipe.

“Aaaah!” Maya recoiled from the creature. “NO! I am not alright!”

“Maya?” Anji said softly. “Calm down. It’s okay. We’re among friends here.”

“Get away from me!” Maya pushed her back. “Whatever you are, you all are not friends!”

“Is it because of all these true-forms in public? Hey, I know our conditioning runs deep, but you can relax now. Look, I’m going first.” She changed shape again, this time assuming the form of one of those metallic-skinned beings. “See?” it asked, with that strange metallic voice. “Why don’t you try it yourself?”

“Anji!” the other creature said sternly. “That’s not one of us. Why did you bring her here?”

“W-what are you people?” Maya asked.

“That can’t be right, I…” Anji paused for a moment, focusing intensely on Maya. “Shit, you’re right. Look at the mess in her head!”

“You’re in my head?!” Maya exclaimed.

“How the hell do you bring someone around without scanning them first?” the feathered snake yelled. Several creatures were approaching, forming a circle around Maya and Anji.

“I… I was so sure, it seemed so obvious…” Anji said, changing back into her familiar human form. Some of the beings closest to them shifted into large, intimidating forms. “What was all that business about ‘masks’ and ‘people like us’ you were going on about at the bar?”

Maya’s eyes welled up. “I… thought you were like me.”

“Like what?” Anji asked. “What is it you were trying to hide so carefully?”

Maya sobbed. “You know…” she strained out her words. “Homosexual.”

“What?!” the creature that had approached them earlier exclaimed. “Why the hell would anyone need to hide that?”

“Yeah, Maya, c’mon,” Anji said, a quizzical look on her face. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’re a lesbian, you go to a lesbian bar. Just look one up, there’s a bunch of them.”

“No…” Maya struggled among her tears. “You don’t know what it’s like back home… I couldn’t just announce that to anyone!”

“Tsk,” the hyena-headed woman clicked. “Those Union humans. So barbaric.”

“Wait…” Anji touched Maya’s arm, concerned. “You really went through all that trouble because you were afraid of the repercussions, if the wrong people found out you’re gay? Wow… that’s messed up.”

“Who gives a shit?” one of the creatures that had transformed into a large, hulking figure bellowed. “She’s not one of us, and she knows. You know what that means.” Other creatures started yelling in agreement.

“Wait, what?” Maya asked, suddenly snapped out of her anguish. “What does that mean?”

“Calm down, folks,” Anji pleaded. “She’s lost. She… was just trying to live out a lie. You all know damn well what that’s like, don’t you?”

“Of course we do,” the metallic creature said. “Still, she knows about our secret.”

“I won’t tell!” Maya blurted out. “I promise, I won’t! I wouldn’t even know what to tell in the first place!”

“Shh.” Anji hugged Maya. “Hush. Don’t worry.”

“I’m serious,” the strange being insisted. “You know how it is. I get that she’s like us on some level, but what difference does it make?”

“The difference,” Anji said, producing a knife from under her coat, “is that we make it painless.” She thrusted the weapon into Maya’s heart through her back, before the woman could realize what she meant.

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