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martha-oi · 3 days
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Shower trouble
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starfirewildheart · 17 hours
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Scars and Souvenirs
Chapter 19
Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.
Pairing: Sy / OFC
Word count: 2,206
Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death, talk of trafficking, forced prostitution and assault.
Chapter 19
~~~I was in the hospital for the last 6 days. I had hoped I'd have loads of time to write but in reality I spent that time being a human pin cushion, being sick from meds or having tests. Thanks for being patient with me!~~~
Sy paced impatiently back and forth in the small observation room as he watched Mike through the two way mirror. He'd argued Mike's plea to Walt and the attorneys and they finally relented, though of course there was a cost. Mike wouldn't be allowed to testify at trial after this but they all understood why he needed to do this. He also wanted to do this without Sy or Walt in the room so the compromise was using an interrogation room so they could be close by and see them at all times. He just hoped Mike got the answers he was looking for.
~~~~~~☆~~~~~~
Mike looked up when the door opened. A deputy led Mitch Holmes into the room and cuffed him to the metal ring in the center of the table then left again. Another man, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase entered. “As agreed on, there will be no recordings, nothing said will be admissible under any circumstances, for anything.  I want it to be known that my client is doing this as an act of kindness and can stop at any time he chooses.” He looked at Mike then at the two way mirror where he knew Walt and Sy were before closing the door and leaving father and son alone while he joined the others behind the glass. 
“Are you OK? I was worried when I heard what happened to you.” Mitch was laying it on thick acting like father of the year. “I can't believe the court let you get involved with that damn man and woman who got you hurt!” He had no idea how much Mike had been told about his involvement in what happened but since he wanted to visit him he doubted that he knew much. Now was time to try and throw Sy and Deb under the bus. If he could get Mike to hate them then he might have a chance with the court. 
“Y..you were worried about me?”
“Of course I was! I should never have agreed to let them take you.”
“The court agreed, not you,” Mike reminded him.
“I've always told you that the court don't give a shit about us and that nosey assed cop neither!” Mitch complained. 
“So, do you have anything you want to ask me?’ when Mitch looked at him like he'd grown a third head he continued. “You've spent your time talking about and blaming everyone but not a single word about you or even me. Why is that?”
“I was talking about how they let you get kidnapped and hurt, Mike. You.. you're not still mad at me over boxin’ your ears when you drank my whiskey are ya? Cause you deserved that,” Mitch shook his finger at him.
Mike shook his head to clear it wondering if he'd somehow ventured into some alternate dimension of crazy. After a few minutes something dawned on him. Walt and Sy had told Mike that Mitch had been held in isolation since being arrested and the only thing he'd been told about Mike was that he'd been rescued and was alive. Mitch had no idea that Mike knew it was him that sold his son to the gang. Sitting up straight Mike leaned closer to the table. “You're a worthless junkie who couldn't pay off his debts so instead of dealing with it like a man, which you aren't, you SOLD me to them! You sold me for the cost of your own fucking habits KNOWING  what they were going to use me for.” 
“You don't talk to me like that!” Mitch snapped.
“Or what? You gonna hit me some more,  Mitch?” He let the sound of the last two letters in his name draw out. “That will never happen again.” Mike stood up and paced around the small room successfully making Mitch antsy and uncomfortable before coming to a stop facing the mirror in front of where Sy was standing on the other side. “When I started trying to arrange this meeting wanted to talk to you about a lot of stuff because I was going to demand answers. The moment I saw you though I realized you would never tell me the truth about anything. You would try to manipulate me to get what you want but nothing more.” He turned to face Mitch. “That being said, what I do want to say,” he sat down and leaned on the table. “I just wanted to say that I hope your prison stay is everything you deserve it to be and I have some friends now that will help me make sure that your cell mates know that you're available to work off your own debts now. Granted I'm sure you won't bring the same price I would have but they will just have to whore you out twice as much.”
“You little fuck!” Mitch growled and tried to lunge for him. Mike was much too fast and moved out of reach.
~~~~~~♡~~~~~~
Geralt watched intently as the doctor force bent Debbie's knee, ready to jump in if he felt he needed to but the woman was tough. There were tears in her eyes and she had his hand squeezed so tight he could hear the bones creak but she did exactly what she had to do.
“I'm impressed with how well you're doing. Incision is healing nicely and I'm going to start your physical therapy this week. Once they get your leg strength built back up…”
“You're going to do another surgery and then I start all over?” She interjected. 
“Not all over but re-healing, yes. Remember it is going to be a long road but we will get there!” 
“I'll get there…” She mocked as the door shut behind him, throwing a roll of tape in frustration. 
Geralt arched his brow at her and tisked but had to bite his lip when she blushed at his mild scolding. The nurse came in and fit a new brace on her leg. It was shorter and had locks so that she could start to bend the knee slowly and not cause damage. Finally, after setting up physio, the next doctor appointment and getting blood work done they made it out to the truck to head home. “Hungry little one?”
“Starving,” She nodded. 
“Pizza, burgers, Mexican, Chinese?” He listed off nearby options. 
“Chinese,” her stomach growled loudly.
When they were seated and placed their orders Deb sipped on a soda then twirled the straw in the bubbly liquid. “You and Sy are really close. He always talked about you but now that we've met on person I can tell the feelings are mutual.” Geralt took a drink of his water waiting to see where this was going. “None of you have girlfriends. Why?”
“A few of us have had in the past. Napoleon often has a female companion but not for long periods. Will has a girl back where he calls home.” 
“You don't agree with attachments though? You think they are an exploitable weakness.” She looked  down at her plate. 
He pondered carefully before answering.  “I think anything that we love or care about has the potential to be used against us. If the person is evil enough or ruthless enough they will exploit anything.”
“I don't want to be a weakness,” She sighed softly.  “I already have been though, for all of you. He called you to help him but if not for me he wouldn't have needed to.” 
“Don't do anything stupid,” he leveled his eyes at her.
“I'm not, i.. I just don't want to be a reason he gets hurt. I want to be an asset not a burden.” She munched a spring roll. 
~~~~~~☆~~~~~~
Sy stretched his back as he walked through the barn with Mike. It had been a crazy day that started with them and their attorney arguing with Mitch's attorney on whether or not Mike could even see him. Once they met most of Mitch's demands, around four in the afternoon, then it was finally 
tiime for the meeting. “Did you get what you wanted out of the meeting?” He asked Mike.
Mike scratched Rose's snout and neck. “I wanted him to explain why he would do all this to me? Why does he hate me so much that he would sell me to someone who was going to pimp me out? Why?” His voice rose as he turned to face Sy. “What about me is so fucking broken that….” He choked up and spun to the left punching a wall in frustration. 
Sy went to him and pulled him into a hug but quickly let go when Mike fought against it. “Kid you're not the one who's broken, he is. Your old man has an addiction but it's more than that. Mitch is,” he struggled to find the right words. “He's a monster. He is the one who disappointed you, who let you down.”
“No one else ever saw that.” Mike demanded.
“Because it's true,” Sy stood firm. 
“And what about Debbie and everything that happened to her because of me?” He yelled. “She nearly died because you both tried to help me!”
“What? Mike, no, that wasn't your fault. You and Deb both got caught up in something that you had no control over. You didn't do this to her anymore than she did it to you.”
“They took us because Mitch sold me!”
“Walter pulled Deb and I in on the gang case. We got involved knowing the risks, kid. You two happened to be together so they took you both. Your old man set it up, sure but they took her hoping to get information about our investigation.”
“He's right,” Deb said as she limped over to them on her crutches. When they pulled up they saw Sy's truck by the barn and stopped. “Truth be told, we all try to protect each other from bad stuff and sometimes end up making it worse. Sy was working with Walt and shut me out of the investigation trying to protect me. On my end all I saw was him secretly texting and calling some random woman, sneaking off to meet her in secret. Instead of talking to him about it I threw myself into my work which got me involved with the corrupt detective. I convinced myself that what Lindy said about me not being enough for Sy was true and was trying to distance myself so it wouldn't be such a shock when he left me.” It was the first time she'd said some of that out loud. Sy was looking at her like she was from Mars and Mike looked like he wanted it to be true. “I don't even pretend that I have all the answers any more because the truth is that I'm more worried now than ever but the few things I do know, I'm sure of. Love gets you hurt whether it's unintentionally or not. Loving someone makes you a point of weakness for them and leaves them open to getting hurt. What is the alternative? We've all found each other and formed bonds which I think we are weaker without. If we run away from each other then we're vulnerable and will do anything to find each other.” She scrubbed her hands over her face in frustration.  “I can't make you believe the truth any more than I can force you to stay here if you're determined to leave. None of this was your fault and I hope you believe that, Mike.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, “and we want you here.”
Everything broke through Mike's walls at once and they crumbled. He wrapped his arms around Deb and buried his face against her shoulder and neck as the dam broke and he sobbed. He sobbed for his past, his childhood, his asshole father, his mom that left him and all the shit that happened recently. He cried until he had no tears left. He felt Sy's arms around him as well, helping comfort him. When the tears finally stopped and his heart rate came back down he felt completely drained. They must have been standing there for quite awhile because his legs were aching and going numb. 
The three of them headed back to the house. Mike was so drained he went to lay down for a nap before dinner. Debbie headed to the kitchen and grabbed her pain pills tossing a couple in her mouth then going to the fridge to get some water to rinse them down before bending down to try and grab an ice pack from the freezer. Sy's big hand reached in front of her and got the pack.
“What did the doctor say?”
She told him everything as they went to set on the sofa. It didn't take long between the exhaustion and the meds that she fell into a fitful sleep.
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sillyrabbit81 · 1 year
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Henry Cavill's shoulders appreciation post
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deandoesthingstome · 6 months
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Labyrinth Fantasy
Pairing: Minotaur!Sy x Reader
Summary: There's a new hotel in town. You now know it's for real and you need more.
Word Count: 5.7K
Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (standing and reverse standing cowgirl), monster fucking (right?).
Fantasy Hotel Masterlist
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You'd recounted enough of the details to convince your online benefactors that the investment was worth it, but kept enough to yourself to make the experience truly special.
Like, you didn't mention the time stretch at all. Though you had been wondering why the hotel even offered longer booking sessions if the hosts could just snap a finger and keep you satisfied forever. You felt only mild guilt about keeping the image of naked human Walter to yourself. They didn't need to know how good he looked NOT as a monster. You were keeping that for you own private thoughts. But you were bemoaning your current funding situation.
sendmeanangel: ugh, I'm never getting back there!!! MNstrluvr: Listen. There's a way. sendmeanangel: how? I can't get any more shifts at the restaurant. MNstrluvr: let us open a Patreon for you sendmeanangel: I'm NOT giving a recount of this event to total strangers darkgothnightengale: you have no idea who we are sendmeanangel: you are NOT total strangers. I know your favorite coffee and what you're studying at uni and your top 10 comfort movies. I know how you got that scar on your hand. darkgothnightengale: yeah but you didn't know that until you asked. Up to then we were total strangers who loved your work. Just like everyone on Patreon will be only they'll be paying MNstrluvr: yeah and you don't have to tell it to them like you told us. Put a different spin on it. Don't make the story from the perspective of the hotel. Make it a true fairy tale. Red riding hood in the woods and shit. Make him your boyfriend, The Woodsman, who's ready to show you his secret this fine full moon evening. sendmeanangel: oh my goddddddd!!! darkgothnightengale: yeah, but put all the most important details of him in Sendmeanangel: you just want to read about his massive cock splitting you open again darkgothnightengale: i have my needs. Besides, I just mean those details you only know now because you experienced it. You have something to draw from, something to make it real for everyone MNstrluvr: seriously, meana, do it. You will make so much money. You should have been putting your other stories out there long ago but this you can post and sell cause it'll be completely your own content with no re-imagining of existing characters sendmeanangel: okay, but you gotta beta the shit out of this for me. I can't have it sounding like I'm just recounting the whole thing from last night's fuck session with my partner MNstrluvr: 😆 🤣 😂 😹 darkgothnightengale: oh my goddddddd!!!! MNstrluvr: anyway we already created an account. We'll add your email and send you the password reset so you can run it and transfer the money to your bank whenever darkgothnightengale: and as always, no pressure on timing other than knowing you need the money to get back to Walter but I can't wait to read this! sendmeanangel: what if he's not available?
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As you clicked Reserve something caught in the back of your mind.
Would Walter care you weren't coming back to see him?
How could he? You spent two hours (or was it more? You could never figure out the time swap calculations) together. You weren't even sure if that was his real name. Sure, you fantasized about him when you got home. You'd been in a fog of post-orgasmic bliss when you saw him in his human form, but that didn't stop you from cataloging every inch you could. Imagining snuggling next to his enormous and furry body wasn't hard.
It was this domestic bliss scene you'd eventually settled on as the opening to your "boyfriend's werewolf confession during an evening walk in the woods" fic that you posted on Patreon. The feedback had been a dream come true.
While the income wasn't as plentiful as you'd hoped, the wages and tips from your extra shifts allowed you to book another stay the following month. Walter was indeed not available on your only open day of the week so you sought out another option and found a four hour time slot with a new-to-you creature.
The listing called him Captain of the Guard.
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Something about this fantasy made you select the box at check in specifically requesting your host enter in form. You had missed this at your previous visit, and as you thought back to meeting Walter, you appreciated the gentle way he eased into the scene. But you wanted a little more…mystery? Suspense? apprehension this time. The front desk clerk told you your host's name was Sy, and sent you down to a lower level of the hotel. The only key he provided was the code you punched into the elevator number pad to allow you to press L3. 
When the doors opened, you entered a small, rustic room with a hard dirt ground and cool stone walls. You only saw one other door besides the elevator you just stepped through and your mind did some mental gymnastics. Was that the exit to the maze or a bathroom? If it was the bathroom, where was the maze?
A few benches were scattered around and sitting on one was the Offering Tray you purchased, along with a note telling you to dress or undress to your level of comfort and step out into the hall through the door opposite the elevator when you were ready. Okay, door to maze then. But your nervous pee sensation was building. Where was the bathroom???
You knew the elevator was locked after you exited the car, but the note also contained the return code you were welcome to use any time, even before your reservation was over. And the note also revealed the secret to locating the washroom around the corner of one of the walls that you now noticed didn’t quite reach the next wall, causing a little optical illusion that the room was a simple square with no other space. Clever. It reminded you of a scene from a fantasy movie you’d seen when you were younger.
You peed and then undressed for a quick rinse in the surprisingly warm shower. You had imagined the temperature of the liquid streaming over the mini waterfall in this rock room would be ice cold, but it was as if the water was heated to a constant, perfect temperature from a thermal spring. The floors were warm on your bare feet too. You almost had to tear yourself away. There was a fantasy to be had.
You hung your street clothes on the garment hooks and pulled your red cape from your bag. You had researched a few different costume options and came across a clever way to fashion a toga of sorts from the material, albeit a slutty red toga with a giant slit up one thigh. You didn’t bother with underwear this time either. After one last look in the mirror to make sure your nerves weren’t showing too badly, you gathered up the offering of cured meat and stepped into the hall.
The rough hewn stone walls were at least three feet higher than the room you’d just exited. You noticed shelves jutting out occasionally at various heights and made a mental note not to run into them. Not that you planned on running. The ground was soft and sandy, rather than hard packed earth. Even in bare feet, this was going to make running hard. Again, not that you’d planned on running. 
Now, which direction? Left was always your gut instinct so you followed the path in that direction, choosing a left turn anytime you came to an intersection. After dead-ending twice in about five minutes, you began to rethink your approach. While you figured it had be wise to build in some extra time to find your treasure, you didn’t want to spend four hours in a fucking maze alone. 
As soon as you made the next right, the air shifted. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention and a ripple of goosebumps grew up on both arms. You made a few more turns before you began to hear snorts and huffs in the distance. For a moment, you froze, unsure if you wanted to move toward or away from the beast. Not because you didn’t want to meet the beast. But only because you truly couldn’t decide how. Sneak up and surprise him? Or let him chase you?
A new roar announced he was getting closer and you made a snap decision to turn away. Let him find me.
You maybe delayed the introduction by a few minutes. He was adept and clearly knew this maze inside and out while you were still trying to find your footing. You were just about to turn a corner that looked surprisingly familiar when you felt a rumble and the sand shift beneath your feet before you heard a snort and few stamps on the ground.
“Turn around.” Though a command, it came out like a question and you knew this was yet another opportunity for you to provide your consent to the game. Keep walking forward and it would all be over. As a matter of fact, you were convinced your next step forward would take you to the hall where the door to your changing room was. Your turn was deliberate. So was the flash as the cape swished around your legs and settled back into place. Give him a show, you smiled inwardly to yourself, before you wiped that grin right off the face in your mind and dropped your jaw instead.
Before you stood a monster of a man/beast, which explained the rumbling of the ground. You noticed the hooves which explained the stamping sound. As you drew your eyes up his solid and thick legs, you were a little disappointed to see he was wearing a heavy pleated leather skirt which hid any hint of what might be hanging underneath. His biceps bulged and thick veins trailed down each forearm. His chest was broad and teeming with unbridled strength, bare and full of the fur you were hoping to find.
Walter wasn’t the first hairy man you’d been with, but he definitely made you appreciate it more and this beast sported a similar amount. As your gaze met his, you took in the visage of a bull’s head, noticing the ring you expected to see in his nose was not there, but the horns near his ears were. They were massive as well and you had plans.
“Who dares enter my labyrinth?” he demanded as he sauntered ever closer to you. “What little bird has been flitting through these halls?”
You gave your name as you held out the tray in front of you, but he simply stood before you, motionless, save his eyes which roamed over every inch of you. When he returned his gaze to yours, he cocked his head to one side.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?” he roared, obviously unsatisfied with the tray of meat. Did the hotel make a mistake? “Maybe you’re playing a game with me? Is that it? Interrupt my peaceful solitude and taunt me with a delectable offering only to hide it behind a curtain of fabric and an offensive tray of inferior flesh?”
“I … I didn’t know… I didn’t think…” you stammered. Your heart was beating furiously, though he hadn’t taken another step toward you and you weren’t exactly trapped. You were more convinced than ever that if you wanted to escape, the entry room and the elevator were just around the corner. He was giving you time to acclimate to your decision to stay, making sure you weren’t having second thoughts. Though he commanded this hall in this maze, he was letting you call the next shot and you knew you were in no danger. Well, none that you didn’t want.
You set the tray on a ledge nearby, and grabbed fistfuls of your robe in both hands, lifting the material enough to give you the feeling of freedom around your lower legs. Just in case. Not that you were planning on running.
“In this labyrinth, the offerings are usually a little more respectful. Would you like to try your offering again?” Something about his words, the way he cocked his head again, the subtle pawing at the ground, as if he was about to rear up. He wanted you to. 
You licked your lips, and nodded. Took one more beat. Then turned and ran. Past the door to the changing room, up the hall to the right, left down the next corridor, then right again. Left. Left. Left. Right. For a moment you imagined he wasn’t right on your tail and then you hit a dead end and he descended on you as you turned to try to escape the hall thinking you might have enough time to head in another direction. Well, around you really. His arms caged you against the wall behind you.
He was so close. His musk was intoxicating and the scent added a little more fuel to the fire already burning in your loins. You peered up into his eyes, which you now noticed weren’t jet black, but rather a deep, dark azure. 
“That’s better,” he chuckled. “The offering is always sweeter after a little vigorous activity.”
“I’m so sorry,” you spoke. "I had no idea the offering I was given wouldn't be to your satisfaction. I should have anticipated better for a creature who commands such obedience and reverence as you."
“The tray isn’t the offering, little bird,” he huffed near your ear as you felt a hand drop from the wall beside you to your shoulder and then down to the pivotal point on your costume. One little tug, and, yep, there it went. The makeshift dressing had held up surprisingly well on the chase, but it was designed to come off easily and that it did. He made an approving sound, tracing a finger over one breast and down the valley between both, nearing your apex before he dragged the back of that hand up your belly and around your waist, ending with a firm grip on the meat of your hips.
“What…what is the offering?” you asked, with feigned timidity, as if you didn’t know what he meant. His arms moved to circle your waist and his hands slid to the creases beneath both now bare cheeks.
"I'll take this peach instead," he snorted with what you perceived to be a wink and a grin. He jiggled the flesh of your ass and grinned wider as he caught the moan of pleasure you tried to suppress. "You don’t need to fight it little bird. This is why you're here. To let go of inhibitions and feel free to express your feelings and desires with no judgment. If you like someone paying attention to this luscious cake, you shouldn't have to feel like you have to hide it."
The exchange felt a little out of character for the scene, but you didn’t mind. The chase was fun, but it was going to be even better finding out how this man would take care of your needs. So you let him know.
"Fuck. It feels good to have you touch it. Most men just go straight for the pussy and ignore the pleasure I get from the tease, the idea of you..." you trailed off, uncertain if you wanted to broach that subject here.
"Oh, it's just an idea, huh? Nothing you want to try? Isn't that why you're here?"
You thought about Walter and wondered if Sy was as well endowed under the fabric covering his loins. Surely the beasts at this hotel were all inordinately adept at providing pleasure; that was after all the entire theme. And maybe there were other ways to pleasure a person, and maybe this hotel had them too, but you couldn’t begin to imagine that the size of Sy’s cock wasn’t proportionate to his stature. You weren't quite ready to feel that in your ass.
"It's alright, little bird. We're here for whatever you'd like,” he answered without you even saying a word.
“Can I call you Sy?” you asked, unsure how committed to the bit he’d be.
“Of course, darlin’.” That was an odd Texas drawl that had just overridden the previous enigmatic accent you assumed was meant to convey ancient Greece. He kept the twang when he saw your surprised eyebrow quirk. “We can take this play anywhere you want to go. Though I’m going to make one choice for us.”
He bent to scoop you into his arms, cradling your legs and back as he held you against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding and wondered if he could feel yours, too. You took some slow deep breaths to try to calm yourself.
For a brief moment, you nestled your head against his neck, relishing the feel of the fur against your cheek. Then you turned your head to pay attention to where he was taking you. You figured you would need to make your way out of this maze alone after being well and thoroughly fucked and somehow you imagined you'd still have enough brain cells to remember the path he was taking.
But Sy wasn’t going backwards to any open hall. Instead he was making his way directly into what you took for a dead end. Before he crushed you against the wall, as you were sure he was about to do, Sy stepped through the wall. Sort of. Through another optical illusion that proved the dead end was actually a T intersection.
Sy took the left branch and in a few short strides, you found yourself in a room filled oddly with accouterments of pleasure. A platform bed covered in softness in the middle of the space was an inviting contrast to the sandstone walls you'd acclimated to. In a few spaces, what appeared to be fur rugs hung against the walls. Straight ahead, covered in dozens of warm glowing candles illuminating the room along with hanging oil lamp pendants, sat a wooden altar. Bowls draped with mounds of luscious looking fruit and plates of cured meats and cheeses were nestled in between the candle holders.
As you looked around, you noticed no other entrance to the room, though you kept missing the non-obvious openings, so who knew? The markings on the wall and other accompanying furnishings led you to believe you were not just in some other hall of the maze. You were now in Sy's sanctuary. You’d found, or rather Sy was going to show you, the treasure at the middle of the maze. 
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Sy set you on your feet and stepped back, as if judging your temperature again. 
“Is this where I meet my fate, then?” you asked, with a shy smile.
“You’ll die a thousand little deaths in here,” he promised, returning to the previous accent, and you noticed now a tail swishing behind him. You hadn’t seen that before, but it seemed…excited.
“Sounds amazing.”
With that he rushed you as if you still held the red cape as a target. In what felt like one fell swoop, he bent to capture your hips and swing you forward over his shoulder as he turned and took a few steps toward a fur-lined spot along a wall and none of those movements jostled or startled you. It was as if he was picking up a piece of cloth, the ease with which he maneuvered you and held you stable so nothing hurt. Not his fingers in your hips, not your hips over his shoulder, not your back as he held you captive, pressed against the wall of the hidden sanctuary.
“Walter said you smelled delicious and tasted even better,” Sy huffed with hunger.
Did they talk amongst one another? That hardly seemed ethical. And yet, you’d gossipped and dished about this place and the man you’d met previously. Why would you assume he wouldn’t do the same?
“So that’s the first thing we’ll take care of here,” he continued as he dug his massive thigh into the moist heat between your legs and huffed breath onto your neck. His hands traced the length of your body, down both sides, over your belly, onto the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
In a heartbeat, he had you off the ground, legs spread wide as he continued to trap you against the wall. You tried to hold onto his beefy shoulders for stability, but soon realized he wasn't done lifting you up as you lost purchase.
You were sure you'd be tumbling forward onto the sandy ground in front of you as soon as you cleared another foot of his body, but somehow you remained upright. Well, ‘somehow’ was known but you were still amazed at the raw strength and power Sy possessed to hold you aloft and continue to elevate your body.
With one final shrug, he had your naked form where he wanted it. Legs over shoulders and pussy right at his face waiting to be devoured. You'd had men, including Walter, in between your legs before. A few times when you were upright, and that always put a nice checkmark next to their names in your book. But never while hoisted six feet in the air.
The thick swath of muscle that ascended through your folds filled you with a warmth you had been craving for weeks. Sy somehow managed to manipulate the shape as well, so that he alternated between targeted tight circles with a tip and wide saliva drenched passes that were soon mingling with your own juices.
You had the distinct impression that the wall behind you was for your benefit only. A way to make you more comfortable and secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't let you fall while he was feasting at the altar of your thighs. That he had the ability to hold you upright all on his own while he ate you out.
He made you come at least three times with your back arched against the wall and crying out for relief as you pressed into his head to hold yourself steady, even while he supported you with a hand cradling your ass and another secure against your side. You had wanted to grab his horns, but something told you to stop and wait until you could ask permission. It didn’t seem polite to just grab at them without warning.
“Please, Sy. Please fuck me now,” you pleaded and he skillfully obliged, though he took his sweet time getting there.
He took a few more licks, sucking in the moisture dripping from your pussy before he began to ease your legs off his shoulders, down his body, and around his waist. He settled you there while he reached back to unhook his skirt and drop it to the ground. Then he knelt, still holding you against the wall, and shifted your legs down to rest on his thighs. This gave you an opportunity to peek down and see what he was working with, and not that you were at all surprised but it was still a bit of shock.
A strap of leather remained wrapped around his waist, traveling down both sides of his Orion's belt with the ends connected to a ring that sat stuffed behind his cock. While you contemplated just how long it would let him last, he worked an especially large condom onto his massive member, drifting a knuckle through your folds at every opportunity, given the proximity. He grunted and grinned each time you rolled your hips against his fingers, eagerly seeking more pressure, more depth, more everything.
“Patience, little bird. We’ll get there soon enough,” he warned as he finished affixing the rubber. You watched rapt as he held himself firm in one hand, tugging with the same languid pace he also used to trail his fingers from the other hand around your entrance, flicking at the hidden pearl up top and pressing his thumb deep inside you. It was killing you, but this was not one of the little deaths he had promised and you contemplated telling him so. 
As if he could tell just how impatient you were becoming, he finally spread your puffy lips wide and began to nudge the tip of his cock at your soaking entrance. A gasp was all you could manage as he moved to standing at the same time, easing your legs back up around his waist again.
Sy moved into you inch by glorious inch, pausing every so often to make sure you were comfortable. It was certainly not something you were accustomed to, but the feeling was familiar and you knew now he was at least as large as Walter. This was going to be fun. When he was almost seated you asked.
“Sy?”
“Yes, little bird?”
“May I touch them? Hold … hold onto them?”
“Yes, little bird, you may.”
You used the leverage of your grip to drive your hips down the rest of the way onto his colossal cock and willed your inner walls to ease around him. A heat filled you, a desire to grind against him, but he stilled you. Made you sit with the enormity of the situation for a moment while he palmed a breast, rolled a nipple.
“Please, Sy, please. I want you to move. I want you to fuck me into this wall. Please.”
He didn’t make you beg another time. He was slamming into you and somehow rotating his hips in such a way that you felt him in every muscle and nerve in your body. It felt electric and vibrant and you wanted to explode. Sy let you. Fucked you right through it and into the midst of a second one before you could open your eyes again. 
You were grinding against him, pulling your body up and pushing back down using his horns to guide you and you were coming hard around him again. His laugh was infectious and you let one out with the third little death in this position. 
Suddenly, he spun you away from the wall. For a moment you thought he was heading for the bed, but he lifted you off his cock, then turned you around. He held you against his chest with one arm around your waist as his other hand guided his throbbing member into you once again.
You threw your arms behind you to grasp at his neck as if you needed to somehow participate in keeping yourself steady against him, but he could handle you all on his own. He had your legs splayed wide, an arm under each knee, and he drove up into you as if it was nothing. And while you didn’t need to, you absolutely wanted to slip your hands up a little higher, off his neck, over the back of his head and right back onto those epic horns. 
You smoothed your fingers over the bone, into the curl, and held on. It could have been your imagination, but his grunts and snorts seemed to magnify as you did so. Maybe he really liked it? Before you had a chance to consider dragging your fingers along the form again, he hit you with another deep wave of pleasure that had your eyes rolling back into your head as you slumped against him.
And it was like he knew how much more you had in you, because he just kept fucking you right back into consciousness, at which point you did gather your wits and give his horns a few more sensual strokes. It was his groan that told you he was close and you were helping him along. It only took a few more thrusts before you were coming hard around his dick and it seemed like he was letting loose with a roar, too.
He eased his phallus out of your sweaty, quivering body and moved forward to deposit you on the bed, admonishing you to stay put before he disappeared behind another secret wall. You heard water rushing and the sound began to lull you into a light sleep that only the warm, wet cloth pulled you out of.
“Don’t open your eyes just yet,” he spoke, his voice a little less gruff than before.
“I was promised a thousand little deaths,” you teased, unable to move your eyelids or anything else for that matter. His laughter lifted your heart.
“Oh, you want more? Looks like you’d scatter in the wind like a dandelion if I put my cock in you one more time.”
“I wish you weren’t right,” you joined him with a light laugh of your own. “Maybe if I could get a little nap…”
“Unfortunately, time has been flyin’ while we’ve been having fun. Don’t think you’ve got enough left for that.”
You peeled your eyes open, curious about his statement. You hadn’t meant to imply he should give you more time and you were embarrassed that he might think you were being pushy, demanding. You were not prepared for the sight of the man in front of you.
Where Walter’s shift had given him just a little extra height and bulk, not that he needed it to maneuver you around the room, Sy’s return to human form was dramatic. And not that he wasn’t massive in his own right, but the size of the beast that had just fucked you senseless was even more apparent comparatively. You could see he was solid, tree trunks for thighs and branches for arms. His shoulders were wide, chest broad. All the things you’d noticed of the bull, but just scaled down. And still incredibly daunting. 
“S’okay I shifted back?” he asked with concern.
“Of course, whatever you… I mean, this is all so new to me. I have no idea what’s allowed. And how much time…” Was what you were thinking about within bounds? “Has it really only been almost four hours? How much time is left? I think I assumed…”
Sy gave another chuckle as you trailed off.
“Yeah, he musta really liked you from the get go.” At your quizzical gaze, Sy continued. “We don’t all have that gift. Walt’s one of the few. And he uses it sparingly. It’s not really a sanctioned hotel offering. If everyone could and did, we’d get nothing but two-hour bookings.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to… I mean, I hope that didn’t sound like I was demanding any special treatment or anything.”
“You honestly still don’t look like you have enough strength left to demand a deep breath,” Sy teased. “Here, lemme give you a hand. We’ll get you cleaned up for real.”
He scooped you off the bed and carried you into the bathroom, outfitted similarly to the entry room. He placed you gently under the warm, rushing waterfall before sudsing you up with a shower gel that smelled surprisingly like something you already owned. You watched as his hands slid over your body, easing the soap down your legs and guiding the water to rinse you off. 
“Sy,” you began, wondering if you should even bring it up, but as he stood to grab a towel for you, the shape you thought you’d seen as he washed you was even more apparent. “Is it allowed? Do we have time … Can I…help you with this?”
You reached for him, circling a hand around his obvious erection and tugging gently. His eyes closed slowly as he dropped his head back with a deep sigh, before he wrapped his arms around you and drew you to him. He put a palm against your cheek and tilted your head to train his beautiful blue eyes on yours as he spoke.
“It’s technically not allowed.” Your heart sank at his words. “But Imma make it good for you one last time anyway.” 
You let the towel drop to the floor as he lifted you to move back out to the bed. He set you down and you watched him climb onto the mattress, expecting him to grab a condom and crawl over you, or flip you over. When he settled himself between your legs, it wasn’t his cock that penetrated you. Sy put his mouth over your pussy again and the moan that escaped his throat had enough vibration you were sure you could come from that alone.
He was better. He was unbelievably better than Walter at this. It wasn’t something you were particularly proud to be thinking, but truth was where you found it and this was the truth. Sy was skilled and all the tricks he used in Minotaur form, he used here as well. You were squirming within moments, grinding up into his face and grabbing onto his freshly shaved head to help keep him where he’d do the most damage in the quickest amount of time. Not that he needed your help, because he was fucking good at this. He knew how to use his tongue and lips and, yes, teeth, gently, and yes fingers, deep and deft. And if you weren’t mistaken, he was squirming, too. 
You could see his ass wiggling and humping into the bed and if you weren’t losing your own damn mind you’d have noticed his hips stuttering as he came into the mattress right around the time his fingers landed back on the spot that, in combination with the movement of his tongue, had you screaming his name.
He let you linger in bed a moment, catching your breath while he slipped on a pair of white, slouchy linen pants before he held out his hand to help you off the bed. 
“Here,” he pulled the sheet around you with a soft chuckle and a grin. “This’ll be more comfortable than traipsing back to the elevator naked. I’ll show you the way.”
Sy led you back to the entry room, stopping along the way for a small detour to find your discarded cloak down the dead end hall. You swapped material with him as he deposited you outside the changing room and wished you a wonderful day.
“Come back and see us again, sometime. It was a pleasure,” he tilted his head at you as you stepped backwards into the room.
“The pleasure was all mine,” you replied.
“Don’t be too sure about that, now.”
Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:
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Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)
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viking-raider · 9 months
Text
Sy's Therapy Barn
Summary: Austin Syverson is newly retired from the Army and struggling to cope with his PTSD. Until he decides to take a chance on a hobby, most wouldn't think could help, and the person there to help teach him how to do it.
Pairing: Syverson/Reader
Word Count: 5k
Rating: M - Quick-Burn, Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of PTSD, Combat Fatigue, Trauma, Wine drinking, Flirting, Support System, Movie Quotes, Leap of Faith, Mentions (but no depictions) of Mental Illness, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, SMUT - Light, P in V
Inspiration: I saw this Instagram video of a handsome, buff gentleman that ran a pottery business and promoted it on the site.
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed it. I am so sorry to any Pottery people for butchering it.
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Syverson wouldn't lie, even though he had thought the hobby was stupid, the first time he thought about it. But, upon seeing a poster at an outdoor market he had decided to attend one, warm Dallas weekend, to get out of the house. Something inside of Sy had urged him to save the number in his phone, before finding the ale stand.
It wasn't until almost a month later, after waking up in the dead of night. He laid curled up in a ball, hugging his knees and struggling to breath. With the blankets and pillows thrown off the king-sized bed, and the black fitted sheet beneath him drenched in his sweat. Aika pressed against his back and whimpering at her owner's distress. It was then that Sy knew he needed something more, other than just denial, the gun range and booze to deal with his PTSD and Combat Fatigue.
He wasn't about to go sit down on some squeaky metal, folding chair, in the basement of some random religious church, listening to other Vets talk about their combat experience. Everyone nodding their heads and offering sympathy and the Word of God. Sy had stopped believing in God over a decade ago. Because, how could some magical man in the sky, with some grand plan for you, before and after you died, allow such bullshit evil into the world.
He didn't want sympathy, far from it.
Austin Syverson, also didn't do sympathy.
So, he pulled up the number from the outdoor market and gave the business a call.
“Mini's Pottery Haven, how can I help you?” A cheery voice chimed on the other end.
Sy let out a hard breath. “Hi, I saw your poster at a market, a couple weeks ago, for a pottery class.” He said, rubbing a palm over his buzzed head, feeling stupid for calling a pottery business, thinking it would help him, in any way, with his trauma. “I was wondering, if you're still doing classes?”
“Yes, we are!” She confirmed, happily. “We have one tonight, with two spots left, if you'd like to join it.”
“Oh!” Sy started, surprised, not expecting one so soon, hoping for a day to work up the nerve to call her back and cancel. “How much is it?”
“Thirty dollars, for just one person, and sixty dollars for a couple.” She informed him, pressing her phone to her ear and bringing up the planner on her computer. “You can pay when you arrive at the class.” She added, distractedly.
Sy paced his kitchen for a moment, before pausing and straightening his back. “I'll take one of the spots and pay the thirty, when I arrive.”
“Excellent! Can I have your name, please?”
“Syverson.” He answered, out of pure habit.
“All right, we look forward to seeing you tonight, and what you create!” She told him, her voice upbeat and optimistic, like she expected Sy to be the next Michelangelo, before hanging up.
“The boys would lose their shit, if they ever find out I tried pottery.” Sy said, stuffing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.
Later that night, Sy found himself standing out front of the humble, little pottery shop, the full window front was bright from the lights inside, which was flowing with people, all standing around chatting with each other and holding glasses of wine.
“At least, they have booze.” Sy commented to himself.
“First time?” A soft voice asked, from behind him.
“Huh?” He frowned, turning around to find a gorgeous woman standing behind him, a large bag slung over her shoulder, as she regarded him with a kind expression. “Oh, yeah. You?” He asked, trying to be polite.
“Naw, I've been getting my hands messy with clay for years.” You smiled at him, patting your bag. “I assume you're here for the class.” You asked, motioning towards the shop.
“I am.” Sy nodded, licking his lips. “Just working up the nerve to go inside.” He explained to you.
“Ah, yeah. We pottery nerds can be dangerous.” You teased, smirking up at him. “You make one reference to Ghost in there and they'll turn you into a clay mold. If not, pelt you out of the shop with lumps of it.” You giggled, moving by him to step up onto the curb and grab the door handle.
A laugh rumbled out of Sy's broad chest, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I'll make sure to keep the Ghost quotes to myself then.” He said, turning his sparkling blue eyes towards you.
“Well, no time like the present.” You told him, pulling the door open and holding it for him.
“That's true.” He nodded, his smile softly fading as he joined you on the sidewalk, stopping beside you for a moment. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He said, giving you a gentle nod, before going inside.
The place was a buzz with voices as he paused by the counter, taking out his wallet to pay for his admission for the night's class. He glanced over his shoulder to see where you'd gone, but you had vanished somewhere into the crowd. Shrugging, figuring you'd paid in advance or had some sort of membership, he handed over his bank card to Mini, the owner of the business, who was a sweet looking, elderly woman, dressed in a loose and colorful, bohemian strap dress. Taking his card and the Hello, My Name Is: sticker she handed back with it, Sy turned away, spotting the small wine station, also surrounded by numerous black sharpies. He headed over, scribbling Sy, on his sticker and poured himself a glass of some kind of red wine, before finding somewhere quiet to stand, to wait for the class to start.
As he stood there, sipping his wine and looking at a wall of finished clay figurines, cups and other knick knacks, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Clearing his throat, he glanced sideways, figuring you were checking him out, which he was more than fine with. But he discovered it was another woman giving him eye-candy. She was tall, with bleach-blonde hair and in a hot-pink tracksuit, she felt out of place for a pottery shop. Though, Sy knew he shouldn't be one to speak, standing there in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, that had been to war with him, tight blue jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, with a black stetson cowboy hat.
The way she lifted her wine glass, however, suggested she wanted to jump his bones.
Which only amused the retired Army Captain.
“All right, ladies and gentleman!” Mini called, clapping her hands together and coming around the counter to regard her customers. “If we can all head towards the other end of the shop, where all the potter's wheels and everything are. We can start the class.” She smiled, motioning everyone to the back.
Everyone moved to the back in a messy, single-file line, still sipping the rest of their wine and chatting with each other. The woman in the pink tracksuit lagging back to walk with Sy, fluttering her lashes at him.
“Ma'am.” He acknowledged her, touching the brim of his hat, but didn't give her much else.
“What's a man like you doing in a pottery class?” She asked, biting the corner of her lip.
Sy licked his lips. “I got nothing better to do.” He said, not willing to admit the real reason he was there to her.
“I'm sure a big, strong, handsome man like you could find something to do.” She insinuated, fluttering her lashes at him.
“Pottery is just fine, thanks.” Sy replied, offering her a weak smile.
“Everyone, please find a pottery wheel and it doesn't matter which one.” Mini said, motioning to the dozen or so pottery wheels in a circle, a round lump of clay already waiting on them to be shaped.
Sy waited until almost everyone was seated, not wanting to take the chance of getting stuck sitting next to the woman hitting on him, far from that mood tonight. So, taking up a pottery wheel and grabbing the provided apron, he took off his hat and set it on a shelf behind his wheel, and slipped on the apron. Sy chuckled, sitting down on the comically small stool before the wheel, as he balanced his large, muscular body on it, smirking up at the rest of the group; seeing some of them sit on the stool like they'd done it a million times and others wobble.
“The first thing we're going to do, before we start shaping our clay,” Mini began explaining, sitting at wheel herself, apron on and perched on her stool, like the forty-plus year pottery maker she was. “is to assign our first timers, helpers. I will be giving instructions and so forth, but your helper will be there for you, just in case you need a refresher or get frustrated.” She told the group, looking around at everyone. “But just remember, just like us, human beings, we are all unique and beautiful. It doesn't matter how many times your clay refuses to shape into what your mind's eye thinks it should, or tears apart, or even if it doesn't bake right in the kiln. It is still beautiful! You still brought it into this world with your own two hands, and you should be proud of that. Because it's something no one else in this room did.”
Sy blinked at her, slightly taken aback by her statement. So used to Army instructors drilling into him about, if it's not perfect, you're dead or your buddy next to you, is.
“So, helpers, I'll let you pick your person. You've all worked here before, so you know how to identify them.”
“And how do you do that?” Someone blurted out, making Mini and the helpers chuckle.
“Well, that's one way for us to find you.” One of the helpers quipped in an Australian accent, moving across the room to said person. “But, it's the name tags, mate, or Ryan, I should say.” He smirked, offering out his hand to the newcomer. “I'm Joel.”
“Those of us here that don't have a name tag, are old pros.” Mini smiled, resting her forearms on the edge of her potter's wheel, while the rest of the helpers spread out.
“Good to see you made it all the way into the building.”
Sy looked over his shoulder and grinned up at you. “Yeah, I had a little bit of help.” He replied, glad, and a bit surprised, to see you were one of the helpers.
“Well, you're about to get some more help.” You said, glancing at his name tag. “Sy.”
He felt a lump lodge in his throat as you said his name. “That's great.” He rasped back. “I'm going to need it. These hands have only known how to do one thing, for the last twenty years.” He told you, holding up his calloused mitts.
“Oh, you got good hands for clay shaping.” You said, taking one of them in both of yours. “I'm sure we can teach these pups a new trick or two.”
“Can you teach this ol' pup any?” Sy asked, smiling at you.
“I might.” You nodded, pulling a stool up beside him. “Let's listen to Mini first, then we can find out what you want to make that clay into.” You told him, giving him an encouraging smile, that cracked open the door to a place he had tried to keep shut.
“Everyone have their partner?” Mini asked, looking around, then nodded. “Good! Now, you're going to learn your proper posture for molding.” She began, leaning forward and started her instruction for the next several minutes.
“Christ, I don't know if I can remember all that.” Sy said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head at his mound of clay. “I'm just a simple country boy, fresh out of the Army.”
You giggled beside him, lightly patting him on the back. “That's why you got me.” You reminded him, sweetly. “Now, what do you want to make? And, I swear if you say a dildo, I will get up and leave.” You warned him, seriously.
“Have people actually asked you that?” He frowned, cocking his head at you.
“Yes, more often than you might think.” You huffed, shaking your head. “I'll make anything else though.”
“To be honest with you,” Sy started, frowning down at the clay and shaking his head. “I don't know what to make. I've never been the artistic type. I always failed art class back in school.”
“Well, that's the wonder of art, and clay for that matter, Sy.” You told him, softly. “You can make whatever you want. You don't need to be artsy for it. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Anything at all.”
“My dog.” He blurted out, biting his lip, feeling silly for it.
“All right, what about a dog bowl?” You suggested, tossing out the first dog related thing that came to your mind.
“Could we make a bowl?” Sy asked, looking over at you.
“Absolutely!” You nodded, grinning. “If you wanna make a bowl for your doggo, then we'll make one. I'll use all ten years of my clay making experience to help.”
“All right, a bowl for Aika, it is.” Sy nodded back, inspired.
“That's a sweet name.” You commented, watching Sy position himself, much as Mini instructed, then drizzle a little bit of water onto the clay and cup it in his large hands, almost hiding it completely in his palms as he started to work the wheel with his foot. “Good, that's a great speed. Keep it up. Little less pressure though.” You reminded him, watching the clay start to pancake a bit.
“Sorry.” He apologized, letting off on it.
“You're all right.” You answered, shaking your head. “So, what made you try out pottery?” You asked, reaching out, instinctively, to add a little more water.
Sy was quiet for a long moment, playing with and shaping his clay, watching the thick residue from it cover his fingers and palms. While trying to find a way to answer. He could give you the same answer he'd given the pink tracksuit lady or he could be honest. Spying you from the corner of his eye, he noticed you weren't waiting for a reply, not being pushy or intrusive. You had simply asked him the question and given him the space to answer it, when and if he wanted to with no hard feelings.
It was a breath of fresh air to him, just like feeling the wet clay in his hands. Knowing he was creating something, not harming it.
“I was hoping it would help me,” He finally answered you, licking his lips, deciding to be honest. “With my combat PTSD.” He added softer, waiting for your reaction.
“It can be quite calming.” You admitted, no ill reaction on your face. “It can also be rather frustrating.” You chuckled, with a smirk. “I about tossed the piece I was working on this morning, when one of the sides collapsed on me. I'd only been working on it for six hours.”
“Six hours!” Sy exclaimed, sitting back to look at you more steadily.
“You suffer for the art sometimes.” You told him, with amusement at his expression. “But, it's well worth it in the end. Most of the time, at least.”
“Christ, I hope this doesn't take that long.” He said, looking down at the weirdly shaped, almost oblong bit of clay on his wheel.
You looked around the room, before leaning close to Sy. “I think you're wonderful, Oda Mae.” You whispered into his ear, so none of your friends could hear you, knowing the complaints they'd give you for the reference after the class.
A huge smile crossed Sy's face and he howled with laughter, catching everyone's attention.
“I crack a good joke, we all know it!” You told them, grinning with guilt.
“I like you.” Sy said, once everyone's attention went back to their own station. “You're the first person that's made me laugh, like that, since I came home on retirement from the Army. A year ago.”
“Oh yeah?” You grinned, feeling a hot rush through your body that wasn't the glass of wine you had earlier. “Well, if you think I can crack a good joke, you'll see how good of a pottery teacher I am.”
“You take any students?” Sy blurted out, before he knew what he was thinking.
You floundered, mouth hanging open. “Um, no.” You admitted, shocked he'd asked, then saw the light start to fade in his blue eyes. “But I could consider it.” You said, quickly. “Especially if it helps you cope with your PTSD.”
“I think it just might.” He proclaimed, finding himself smitten with both pottery and you.
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You laughed, throwing up your arm as Sy flicked the wet clay on his fingers at you. “Austin!” You tried to duck the mucky droplets as they splattered all over your apron, the side of your arm, face and hair, still giggling.
“You were looking a bit dry over there!” He guffawed, grinning at you. “What the heck, are you shapin', anyhow?” He asked, balancing himself back on his stool and eyeing your kaolin clay, seeing the strange, cup-like shape you had going.
“I don't really know.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders at the grayish-yellow clay before you. “I'm just trying to understand it, and make something. That will hopefully not crack in the kiln. If I ever get around to firing it.” You told him, leaning forward again, feeling the soreness in your lower spine and forearms from working in that position for so long. “What about you?” You asked, cocking a brow at Sy, without looking away from what you were starting to consider your Frankenstein.
“Another ceramic grenade cup.” You smirked, curving your thumb into the center of the clay. “Or, what was that tea pot you made?” You asked, giggling as you recalled pulling the craft out of the kiln.
“I don't want to talk about it.” Sy replied, sounding disgruntled.
You laughed, nodding your head. “That's right, it was supposed to be a turt—Austin!” You shrieked, as his big, wet clay covered mitt swiped across your face. “Oh my god!”
“It was nothing, woman.” He huffed at you, with mischievous eyes, as he sat back down. “But I do have a question for you, babe.”
“Oh?” You replied, standing up to wipe the streak off your face before it dried.
“I was thinking,” He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he continued to work his clay. “I still have a large chunk of my retirement payment from the Army, just sitting in my bank account.” He said, scowling as one side of the clay started to collapse.
“All right.” You nodded, staring down at him, as you stood between your two pottery wheels in the garage of Sy's house, situated on the ten acres he owned.
“I've been considering,” He licked his lips and sat back, to look up at you, wanting to see your face when he said aloud what had been on his mind for the last year and a half. “I want to open up my own shop.”
You blinked at him a couple times, processing his words. “Your own pottery shop?” You asked for clarification.
“Yeah, I want to open a pottery barn, to help Vets, like myself. Hell, to help anyone with PTSD or trauma. It helped me through so many nights of episodes and flashbacks.” He explained to you, babbling out the idea that had been swirling around him, and looked back up. “You helped me.” He whispered quietly, before shaking his head and squeezing the clay on his wheel.
“It's a stupid idea.”
Watching him destroy the piece he'd just spent the last hour and a half working on, stung you, but it hurt you more to hear him say his idea was stupid. You thought it was incredible. That it was so thoughtful and sweet of him to want to share a hobby that had given him so much in the last two years.
You were flattered to be a part of that journey with him, as well.
Your big bear.
“I think it's a terribly-” You sat down in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “good idea, Austin Syverson.” You declared, kissing him lovingly. “And if I hear anyone say otherwise, I'll pelt them with wet clay, until they think it is.”
A bright smile pulled across Sy's face as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “So, you'll come be my first employee?” He asked, nosing the side of your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with the earthy scents of pottery, tinged with a light sheen of sweat from how warm it was in the garage.
“Oh, I'm going to work for you, am I?” You cooed, amused. “What position, do I get?”
“Hmm.” He hummed, pressing his lips to your skin. “How about the head of pottery?”
“What's your job going to be?” You asked, eyes fluttering shut.
“I'm the boss.” He chuckled, tugging on your ear. “I'll have a bunch of jobs. But there's no one I trust more than you, with all your infinite wisdom of pottery, to run that area.” He told you, his hands pushing under your tank top. “I do only have two years of experience, compared to your thirteen.”
“Oh, laying it on thicker than a glaze, Captain.” You purred, feeling his fingers leave trails of drying clay on the skin of your back. “But I do like the sound of it. Do I get to boss you around during classes?” You asked, cupping the back of his head in your palm and rubbing the short hair there with your thumb, while your other hand dripped to the strings of his camouflage apron.
Sy smirked, giving your neck a sharp bite and making you gasp. “You boss me around already.”
“I do not!” You huffed, with an amused flash in your eyes, pushing his head back to look up at you.
“Whatever you say, my darling.” He replied, blue eyes sparkling.
“That's what I thought.” You smirked, kissing the bridge of his nose.
Pulling his hands from your tank top and gripping you by the hips, Sy pushed you up and pulled your legs across his lap, so you straddled him. You moaned at the straining bulge in his black sweatpants, pressing down against it through your short-shorts, sucking lightly on your bottom lip.
“What are we calling your little pottery business?” You hummed, reaching between your bodies to slip into the waistband of his sweats, finding his thick manhood and gliding your hand along it, drawing out a shivering sigh out from him.
“I don't know.” He rasped, clawing at your hips and the band of your shorts, leaving red marks in their wake. “Maybe, Sy's Therapy Barn or something.” He puffed, losing focus on the idea of running a business and growing more interested in tearing your shorts and underwear off.
“I like it.” You nodded, slipping off his lap, smiling at his hands grabbing to bring you back, but stood and took your shorts and panties off, before straddling his thick thighs again. “Rolls of the tongue and easy to remember.” You told him, taking his burning shaft in your hand, stroking him firmly as you guided him towards your glistening entrance.
“Mmhm.” Sy mumbled, his mouth latching onto your collarbone. “Whatever you say, babe.”
You chuckled, caressing your free hand over his head and gripped his shoulder, using it as leverage to sink down onto him, with a soft sigh and leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.
“I love you, Syverson.”
“Ditto.” He rumbled back, wrapping his arms around you and locking you against him.
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“Welcome to Sy's Therapy Barn!” You grinned as a man came through the door, the bell above it chiming through the building, his ripped muscles making the fabric of his Under Armor shirt scream, his tattooed arms showing below the short sleeves. “Are you here for the classes or to look about?” You asked, motioning around the grand shop with beaming pride.
You and Sy had found a thousand square foot warehouse, filling it with all your pottery and therapy needs and dreams. Sy had even decided to go to school and become a licensed therapist, allowing him to help the people coming into the Therapy Barn better. While they got their hands cupped around the little mounds of clay, during your classes, so they could shape it into whatever their minds wanted or needed.
Part of the warehouse was set up with kilns of all sizes and kinds, tall and wide shelves to hold pour molds and drying creations. While another section was where you and Sy held the classes for the therapy groups, either for former or active Combat Service people or, those who Sy referred to as Regulars, members of the public who hadn't served. All of them there to try and remedy their PTSD, trauma, depression, loss, domestic violence or anything else along those lines.
People that didn't require therapy were also welcome, of course.
But the two of you catered to those in need specifically, and so far, business was booming. Sy had gone to the several local Veteran Centers in the Dallas area with fliers promoting the business's program, as well as the VFW Canteens and posting on the internet. Even calling some of his old comrades. Sy had been worried and a bit skeptical with your first pottery class, sure that no one was going to show up to it. However, when the time rolled around, the bell above the front door started dinging with customers, most of them were middle aged or elderly, but there were several your and Sy's age, looking apprehensive.
It made you smile to see that look on their face, it was the exact expression you'd seen on Sy's face, that night you met in the parking lot of Mini's Pottery Barn, before he discovered the magic of forming clay. You always looked forward to seeing it change into the wonder of how amazing it is, to see your brave Captain use his fresh Bachelor's Degree to help them work through the same struggles he had. The struggles you had woken up at one or two in the morning, to find Sy in the garage, in nothing, but the shorts he'd gone to bed in, hunched over his pottery wheel, his muscles tight and teeth gritted, but his hands cupped gently around the piece of clay he was working. Trying to chase away whatever he had been awoken by.
“I'm here for the class, with Dr. Syverson.” He replied, looking around uneasily, like he expected a bomb to go off in one of the teapots you'd crafted and had on sale in the front window of the shop.
“That's great!” You grinned at him, trying to be open and encouraging towards him. “The class will start in ten minutes. You can either take a seat or have a look around. There's coffee, tea and water on the table with some cupcakes and snicker-doodle cookies, so help yourself.”
“No booze.” He mumbled, eyeing the table.
“No,” You answered, giving him an emphatic look. “Some of our potter's are recovering and sober, so we don't offer it.” You explained to him, glancing over at one of your regulars with a nod. “To repress the urge to relapse.”
He looked at you for a moment. “That's—actually, very thoughtful of you.” He said, blinking as it came over him.
“We do our best.” Sy said, appearing from the back. “Pleasure to meet ya.” He offered his hand to the other man. “Captain Syverson, 1st battalion, 3rd SFG(a). Also Dr. Austin Syverson, the co-owner of this here Therapy Barn.” He introduced himself, always giving his classifications to the Vets, knowing how at ease it made them and started that thread of a bond with him.
“Pleasure to meet you, Captain.” He replied, shaking Sy's hand. “Lieutenant Daniel Burton, 3rd recon battalion, for the Marines.”
“Well, it's good to meet you, Lieutenant.” Sy nodded, then smiled over at you, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. “I'm sure my fiancee has given you the introduction to our business.”
“That she has.” Daniel nodded, giving you a kind smile. “Though, I'll admit, I'm a little apprehensive as to how this is going to help me get straightened out. I watched some videos on pottery on Youtube and it just doesn't seem like much.”
You and Sy looked at each other, a smile and knowing look on each other's faces.
“It seems that way. I thought the same thing, myself, at first.” Sy confessed, a winking at you. “But, all you have to do is take all your emotions. All your pain, all your love, all your passion and all your rage and work it into that bit of clay we give you on that pottery wheel and the rest comes with it.”
You looked at Sy, it had become a thing between the two of you, and in doing so, that line had become his motto. It had become part of the business's motto, and few people actually caught the reference. But that was all right. The two of you still got through to people in the end. Saving them from their dark past through horrible movie quotes, a man that took a chance on a hobby and your skill with moving clay, sculpting a life and a business out of it.
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mrsevans90 · 4 months
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Puppy Love
Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 1
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Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?
Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 
Word Count: 3,502
Warnings: Abused animal, domestic violence, stalker ex-boyfriend, mention of nightmares/PTSD, smut in future chapters.
MINORS DNI! Must be 18+
I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 
This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.
A big thanks to @shellyshellshell for encouraging me to write this story!
A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 
*Syverson POV*
It’s certainly difficult to leave the cool air conditioning of the house to head to work when the weather forecast predicts another scorching Texas summer day where the humidity makes your clothes immediately stick to your skin. It’s nothing I’m not familiar with having grown up in Texas my whole life and then spending two tours in the desert before returning home. You’d think I would move somewhere cold, but the south is all I know. I certainly couldn’t leave Nana and Pawpaw either. After finishing my last tour, I came home and bought an empty house in disrepair and spent the better part of a year ripping it to studs and rebuilding. I was really struggling with returning to civvy life after spending the majority last ten years in the sand pit. Originally, I had just planned to fix up my house so that it was comfortable and hell, livable, until I discovered what I wanted to do outside of the army. Remodeling my house taught me that I really enjoyed working with my hands and building things. I guess you could say taking a broken, outdated home and making it beautiful and functional again really resonated with me on a deeper level. I was lucky to leave the army with only some mild PTSD and nightmares. Hell, I had all of my limbs and was alive which is more that I can say I deserve. Staying busy helped me cope so after working towards getting my contractor’s license, I decided to start my own company, Syverson Contracting. It was still a small operation with only about seven employees including my cousin Alex, but we got by just fine.
After getting ready for the day and sipping on my cup of coffee on the porch with my German Shepard, Aika, I put my boots on and headed to the truck for the first day on a new worksite. Like usual, I called Nana on the way to work to check in. My grandparents lived about fifteen minutes away from me, but I still called to check on them every morning and make sure they’re doing alright. As I drive, Nana starts chattering all about how her friend’s granddaughter is single and I should be looking for a good woman to marry and settle down with. We’ve had this conversation umpteen times before but I can’t seem to get it through my stubborn grandmother’s head that it’s useless. I’ve been burned by too many women in the past as a young and naïve man and I just don’t want to bring someone into all of my problems. Yes, I go to therapy at the VA to help with my PTSD but it still doesn’t stop the sleepless nights and nightmares that immediately send me back to wartime in the desert. As much as I’ve always wanted a partner in life; a beautiful wife to come home to, a couple of kids and the proverbial picket fence, I just don’t see how it could be in the cards for me now. I’m too fucked up. Nana of course would never understand and I certainly don’t want to drag her into it so I just listen to her drone on and on about some chick named Susanne and then tell her that I’ve got to go.
After speaking with my team and giving instructions for the job, I went to Alex’s flatbed truck and we all started unloading the materials. The home we were working on was owned by a young couple expecting their first child. It was a simple job, replacing the flooring throughout the house, building a shed in the backyard for lawnmowers and other garden tools, and repairing some dry rotting siding near the fireplace. The great thing about my team is that I could get them started and didn’t have to micromanage them. After several hours in the walloping sun, we all broke for lunch. After cooling off and reenergizing at the local Wendy’s, we all headed back to the house to continue our work. Since I was used to being in these weather conditions, I decided to head out toward the edge of the woods in the backyard and start building the garden shed. When I went to lift up some of the plywood, I was beyond shocked to find a shaking and filthy little tan dog who appeared to be injured and terrified.
“Shit. Heya buddy, I ain’t gonna hurt you. It’s alright pal. Let me take a look atcha.”
As a true animal lover, I was immediately enraged. Someone had intentionally abused this poor defenseless animal and either abandoned it or it was able to limp off to the woods. The little male pup, couldn’t be older than a year was bleeding from four different wounds on the side of his sand colored body. The second I scooped him up, he was whining and cowering in fear.
“You’re alright little man. I’m gonna take care of ya. Let’s see if we can getcha to a vet.” I call Aika’s vet office and unfortunately there is no answer. Janet must still be taking her lunch break.
I see Alex walking outside to grab some of the flooring to bring inside and yell for him to come here.
“What’s up, Sy?”
“Just found this little guy beat to hell by the woods.”
“Jesus. What kind of bastards do that to an animal?” Alex ponders as he was looking at the injured and sick animal. 
“I’m gonna see if Dr. Robinson’s in. Hopefully I can get the little feller in today but I need you to run the site until I get back.”
“No problem, Sy. Didn’t she just have another kid? I’m not sure if she’ll be there but I know Jessica said something about them hiring a new vet so I’m sure someone will be around.”
The veterinarian’s office was only a fifteen-minute drive from the site so after giving the poor thing some water, I loaded him up and drove there.
On the ride over, he seemed to relax a bit and not shake as bad as he had been and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“Oh Austin! How good to see you! Did your Aika have an appointment?”
“Hey Ms. Janet, is Dr. Robinson in? It’s not for Aika. I found this guy by the woods and he’s been hurt something awful.”
“Heavens to Betsy! Poor little angel! Elizabeth is out on maternity leave but we’ve hired a new vet. You'll like her. Let me check with her and see if she can work you in.”
“Yes ma’am.”
A few moments later, Janet scurries back and directs me to an exam room with the little guy. I guess I could have just dropped him off and went back to work but my heart just couldn’t stand it. Hell, I fought to bring back Aika from Afghanistan because of how quickly I fell in love with her and she’s been the best dog ever. I can’t imagine leaving this little guy to potentially die from his injuries without a friendly face nearby.
*Knock Knock!*
The door opens and my heart stops at the same time. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen enters while carrying a clipboard and a stethoscope. She’s a petite little thing only reaching to my shoulders with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and crystal blue eyes that feel like they see straight to my soul.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Emma Miller. I hear you found this little guy in the woods?”
“Uh, yes ma’am. Hello there, I’m Austin Syverson. Yeah, I uh, I found him and he looks like he’s been abused.”
She smiles brightly and shakes my hand when I introduce myself and the moment I touch her soft skin, I can hardly think straight. Why the hell do I feel so jittery? It’s just a beautiful woman Sy. Get ahold of yourself. I tell her exactly what I found and she quickly starts examining him while speaking to him in a sweet voice.
“Hi sweet boy. You poor thing! I’m so sorry someone has been treating you so horribly. We’re going to take care of you, yes we are. You’re going to be good as new! I’m going to give you some fluids because you’re dehydrated little guy. Once we get some fluids in you, I’ll try giving you some food. How about that little man?”
I can’t help but smile as she baby talks to him while inserting an IV in his tiny arm and starting him on fluids. She examines the wounds more carefully before retrieving a pair of things that look like tweezers.
“If I had to guess, I would say this guy is about 10-12 months old. I suspect these wounds on his side are from a BB gun. Would you mind holding his head? I’m going to give him some pain relief in his IV to help him relax and then try and clean the area and see if I can remove them. We’re a bit short staffed at the moment with Dr. Robinson out and two of our techs calling in sick so I’ll need your help if that’s okay?”
“Fucking BB guns.” I murmur under my breath. Damn some people are just the worst.
“I’m happy to help.” I tell her quickly and take up residence next to the puppy’s head to hold him still.
“Thank you.” She replies quietly while concentrating on rubbing some brown cleaner across each wound.
I can’t help but watch her as she focuses on removing all four bb’s and placing them into a metal bowl. She’s so effortlessly beautiful and incredibly adorable as she works on the dog who seems to be feeling so much better with the medication and fluids that he has received. She sews up each wound quickly and efficiently. The pup seems to be almost as captivated by her as I am. When she’s done, he even attempts to wag his tail for her. Dr. Miller explains that he will need a flea and tick bath before she can dress the wounds because he has several fleas on him and she doesn’t want them getting into the incisions.
“Mr. Syverson, I hate to keep you from your day. Would you want to just come back for him in a little while? I have to do an exam on a yorkie with diabetes but then I’ll bathe him on my break and get his wounds dressed.”
“Sugar?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, pardon?” She responds a bit flustered.
I smirk as I see the blush tinting her cheeks. “The yorkie. Is it named Sugar?”
“Oh! Yes! Someone you know?”
“My grandma’s neighbor, Mrs. Clayton, has a yappy little yorkie named Sugar and I believe I overheard that it has diabetes.”
“Yes, well that would be her.” She smirks back.
“I don’t mind waiting with the little guy. Is it alright if I stay and help you bathe him? Since your short staffed and all?” I ask with my most charming smile.
Her beaming grin tells me all I need to know. “Sure, Mr. Syverson. Can you give me about twenty minutes?”
“Only if you’ll call me Austin or Sy. Mr. Syverson is my pawpaw.” I say with a grin.
“Alright Austin. I’m going to leave you with some wet food on the table for this little fellow, but can I trust you to only give him small amounts slowly? We don’t know when his last meal was so we don’t want to overwhelm his belly.”
“Yes ma’am.” I mock salute at her with two fingers and she giggles when she leaves the exam room. I swear the moment she did I was a goner. I need to find a way to hear that giggle more.
“Well little guy, it looks as though we are helping each other out, huh? You ain’t the only one broken and battered.” I say as I give the dog a small plastic spoonful of wet dog food that he almost swallows hole.
“What should I call you?” I hypothesize aloud while the pup continues eating sloppily from the spoon I’m holding.
“Since Dr. Miller here patched you up, how about Miller? We can call you Mills for short. What do you think about that? I like it.”
Emma finally returns to the exam room and is happy to see that the Mills has eaten the food I gave him and kept it all down. Due to the food, medications, and fluids he received you can already tell a slight difference in his demeanor.
“Let’s get you all cleaned up, shall we?” She says while carefully picking him up and carrying him to the back of the building before pausing. “You coming, Austin?” She asks.
God, I hope I will be soon. I think before I rush over to open the exam door for her and follow her to the back.
“You know, I’m breaking rules by letting you back here so don’t make me regret it.” She says to me teasingly as she carefully sets Mills into a large stainless-steel sink and begins to bathe him with medicated shampoo.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Dr. Miller.”
“No, if I have to call you Austin, you have to call me Emma. It’s only fair.”
“Well, Emma is a beautiful name so that will be easy. If you don’t mind my asking, where are you from? We haven’t had a new vet in town since Dr. Robinson came and that was probably ten years ago.” I watch as Emma carefully removes three ticks from his fur and want to outwardly cringe. Ticks are the devil’s bug.
“I’m from Alabama. I’ve only been in Texas for about a month but just started working in the office this last week.” She tells me as she very carefully continues to clean Mills.
“What brought you all the way out here? Did your husband get transferred out here or something?”
She side eyes my question with a smirk. “Nope, just the job. No husband or kids. No boyfriend either in case that was your next question.” She remarks sarcastically.
My stomach flips with excitement even though she caught on to what I was really fishing for.
“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re here. For Mills’ health needs of course.” I add quickly while gesturing to the pup.
“Mills?”
“Yup. Short for Miller, after the doctor who’s taking care of him.”
Her cheeks blush bright red as she runs a flea comb gently through his fur. “Well aren’t you just the charmer. I’m surprised Janet didn’t warn me about you. She’s been clueing me in on pretty much the entire town.”
“Ah, good ole’ Janet. She knows there’s no need to warn you about me. She’s known me since I was in diapers so that should tell you enough about my character if she didn’t warn you off.”
“That’s good to know. So, are you planning on keeping little Mills? Or are you wanting us to adopt him out once he’s all healed?”
“Oh, I plan on keeping him if that’s alright. As long as my girl, Aika, is okay with it I’ll keep him. Can’t imagine sending him off to a stranger after what he’s already been through.”
“Well, if your girlfriend isn’t on board with keeping him just let us know and we can see about arranging a foster for him until he’s able to be put up for adoption.” She says while stepping a little further away from me.
Girlfriend? Oh dumbass, you made her think Aika is your girlfriend.
“Aika’s my German Shepard. I don’t have a wife, kids, or a girlfriend either.” I said poking fun at her sarcastic comment from earlier.
Emma grins but just continues to rinse Mills off. She notices that one of his paws looks a bit swollen but she can’t find any cuts or wounds so she thinks it may just be bruised from trying to run from his abuser.
Once we get him dried off, I hold his head again for her to clean and dress the wounds on his side and I’m dreading leaving.
“So, I’ll need to see little Mills in 3 days to check his wounds and remove the stitches. I need you to clean and redress the wounds one time a day like I’ve shown you. I’ve got his medication and antibiotics here and a couple of cans of that wet food that you fed him earlier. I recommend continuing to feed it to him slowly so that his tummy doesn’t get upset. Nobody likes waking up to a dog throwing up or having diarrhea in the house. If he does okay with that food we can discuss increasing his food intake at the next appointment. Do you have any questions, Austin?”
“Just one. Can I get your number, Emma? You know, in case I have questions about your prodigy, Little Mills, here.” I add with a smirk.
“I’m sure you have the number for the vet’s office.” She smirks.
“That I do, but I’d like yours as well, please.” I ask with my most convincing smile.
“Alright, alright. Just don’t advertise it. The last thing I need is people like Mrs. Clayton calling me after hours.” She concedes with a giggle and I can’t help my boisterous laughter at the last part.
“Nobody wants someone like Mrs. Clayton calling them all the time. That woman would talk to a wall just to hear her own voice.” I hand her my phone and she quickly types her number and I save it under “Mills’ Future Mama” and smirk to myself.
I pay and make the next appointment for Mills and then head to the local pet store for a collar, leash, dog bed, and more dog food. Luckily, Mills sleeps on the ride home and I can’t decide if he’s finally realized I’m not going to hurt him or if he’s still drowsy from the effects of the meds he received. I head home and send Alex an update that I’ll be back at the site tomorrow.
When I get home, I bring everything inside before carrying Mills over to Aika and carefully introducing him. After the initial excitement wears off, Aika heads outside to the backyard and I’m relieved that she seems to accept him. She’s always been such a good dog so hopefully I can rely on her to show our little rookie around and teach him our routines.
I go about showering and eating dinner, but I can’t seem to get my mind off Emma. I obviously want to play it cool but she has infiltrated my mind to the point where I just can’t think of anything else. I know this is a bad idea but I can't stop myself. I decide to take a picture of Mills in his little bed and text it to her.
Sy: <attached image>
Mills’ Future Mama: I’m glad to see my namesake is adjusting to his new life. I take it that his sibling accepts him?
Mills’ Future Mama: Also, you’re lucky I opened that picture text. Typically receiving a picture from an unknown number is never a good thing 😖
Sy: Sounds like your mind is in the gutter or you have some seriously unhinged acquaintances, darlin. Aika has accepted him into the pack without hesitation.
Mills’ Future Mama: More like, men are nasty and will take any opportunity to send an unsolicited dick pic to even the most unwilling recipients. Glad you found the little guy. He seems right at home.
Sy: He is. You should come visit him sometime.
Mills’ Future Mama: Why would I do that when he’ll be in my office in three days?
Sy: Maybe to see his owner?
Mills’ Future Mama: I’d imagine his daddy will be the one bringing him back to my office though?
Sy: Alright then, how about I make you some dinner at my place? Say tomorrow at 5pm?
Mills’ Future Mama: Make it 5:30 and I’ll be there. Just know I’ll be sending your information to my best friend in case you try and murder me.
Sy: What type of people were you surrounded by in Alabama? 🤨
Mills’ Future Mama: I was actually in a super safe town. Just watch too many crime shows to make careless mistakes.
Sy: Smart lady. You can tell whoever you want, darlin’. I’ve got nothing to hide and I appreciate a woman who has some self-preservation skills.
Mills’ Future Mama: Trust me, I’m very skilled at many things. 😜
Sy: Damn woman, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. It’s not fair to tease me.
Mills’ Future Mama: Not teasing. Just stating facts. 🙃
Sy: Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough. Here’s my address. Any food allergies?
Mills’ Future Mama: Nope! I’ll bring dessert. I’m interested to test your cooking prowess.
Sy: You’re killing me.
Mills’ Future Mama: See you tomorrow!
Part 2
Taglist: @shellyshellshell @henryownsme @caramariehurst @beck07990 @mollymal
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geralts-yenn · 1 year
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Bonfire
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Captain Syverson (Sandcastle) x reader (female reader, no race, body type or physical features mentioned other then blushing)
summary: After months you finally see Sy again. But how will he react to you after he cancelled his date before he left?
warnings:  fingering, oral (f and m receiving), protected p-i-v sex
word count: 6,7k
A/N: I had this in my WIPs for sooo long, probably wrote this three times, deleted, changed, wrote it again. Sy just didn't do what I wanted to. But when I stumbled over that gif I knew I had to finish this story and I think I am finally happy with everything. Hope you like it too.
More inspo boards
I'd love to get some feedback so please don't hesitate to reblog, comment, ask. Like all my fellow writers I long for every bit of interaction with my readers.
taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel @deandoesthingstome @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @ylva-syverson @ellethespaceunicorn
(please let me know if you want to be added or removed)
You feel lost. Why the hell did you even come here in the first place? This was Sy’s coming home party. And you two aren’t really friends. Maybe you could have become. Maybe even more. But time wasn’t on your side. You look over to the man that held your mind and heart captivated in the last year, without even being near you most of the time. 
You were surprised when you first saw him today. The buzz cut and the beard were new and unfamiliar. But it made him even more attractive. You wonder how it would feel to be kissed by him. Would his whiskers be soft or would they rub your soft skin and leave red marks?
You take in how he pulls his upper lip into his mouth, licking the beer from it. The next girl is coming over to him. You have watched them the whole evening: Making doe eyes at him, playing with their hair. All trying their best to get his attention. Of course, he had this effect not only on you. They all wanted him.
Well, you wouldn’t stand in their way. If Sy had had any interest in you, you would have heard from him. But he never called, he never texted, he never wrote. 
All your friends are enjoying the evening, drinking, talking and laughing by the fire. No one seems to notice that you don't join them. You walk away from the bonfire into the woods. 
You sit down on a rock and think about what led you to feel so sad.
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May, one year ago:
You were excited to go to your friend’s wedding. It was the first event in your new life. You’d finally be able to get to know some of the people here. You had moved from Chicago to a small town in Texas. Your college roommate Megan had got you that amazing job offer that you couldn't decline. And, because she moved in with her fiancé, she even offered you her old apartment, which you gladly accepted. But the first few weeks in the new job had taken all your time. And Megan didn't have time to show you your new home in Texas either, she was occupied with her wedding. So you didn't know a lot of people yet.
When you saw him for the first time at the wedding, you immediately knew that you would fall for him. He was not only attractive, he had an aura of self-esteem and authority that you couldn’t call anything but ‘big dick energy’.
You watched him striding over to the bar. He took his drink from the bartender and turned, letting his gaze wander through the crowd. You realized too late that his head turned in your direction and when your looks met, you dropped your eyes to the floor hastily. Surely he could see you blush even from the opposite of the room. You walked over to your friend, trying to look like you were very much busy with something else as that gorgeous big guy. But to your shock, only a few moments later, he came over to you. 
He bent his head down to you and whispered: “No need to turn away darlin', I like being eye-fucked by beautiful women.” And he winked at you and walked away with a cocky smile spread over his face.
Now you were sure that everyone in the room could see your cheeks glow brightly. Megan grinned at you, she was near enough to overhear his words. 
“That was Sy. He's quite the charmer, right?” You covered your eyes with your hand. 
“Doing my best to embarrass myself at the first opportunity,” you said, grimacing. But Megan insisted that he didn't want to embarrass you but he was flirting. 
Over the evening, every now and then your look met Sy's. And every time, he gave you a smile. But you were glad that he didn't come over to talk to you anymore because you felt like you would only be stuttering. Especially after the wine you were drinking made your tongue heavy.
When Megan and her now-husband Fletcher had left, you decided to go home, too. You got to know some people and had fun during the evening but you still felt a bit like an outsider and you were too tired for conversations anyway. So you grabbed your cardigan and your purse and headed for the door.
As soon as you looked up, you saw Sy’s eyes, following you the whole way through the room. He had gotten rid of his jacket and his bow tie. The first buttons of his shirt were open now and the sleeves were rolled up over his elbows. That man was a fucking tease on legs and he knew exactly what he was doing. He was standing close to the exit, so you had no other choice as to walk past him. And when you were close enough, he saluted you with two fingers. 
“Sweet dreams, sugar! Hope I see you again soon.” You gave him a shy smile, not daring to speak. Sitting in the Uber that got you home, you wondered if he was talking like that to all the women today, or if he was curious about the ‘new girl’, or maybe he truly was interested in you.
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It was unbearably hot the last few days and you were so happy to finally have a free weekend to spend with your new-found friends. Megan, you and a couple of other people had planned a trip to the beach. When you walked down the boardwalk you got really excited. You were a summer girl through and through and you loved the sea.
You were lying on a blanket, sipping on your drink and reading, when you heard some of the guys cheering. You looked up, thinking they were playing a game or something like that, when you saw them waving at someone. You turned around and almost choked on your lemonade when you saw who was walking up to your group. He was wearing camo shorts, a red shirt that was probably a size too small for him and some dark aviators. Like the first time you had seen him, Sy strode along with an attitude of big dick energy that took your breath away. 
After the wedding you couldn’t get him out of your mind anymore and so you were really disappointed that you hadn’t met him ever since. You had tried to subtly ask Megan about him, but of course she knew right away. She told you that he is in the army and he was always quite busy when he was on leave, working on his house, meeting friends and family. But yet you always hoped he would show up when you were out. Three months later you had given up and almost forgot about him, and that's the moment he appeared in your life again.
You turned back to reading your book, trying to look unaffected. But Megan dropped beside you the next moment.
"Look who has time for his friends today…" she said to you playfully. You closed your book and sat up, but instead of an answer, you just rolled your eyes at her. Sy had reached your group and greeted everyone with a nod and a smile. One of the guys handed him a beer can and they started talking. 
Megan, of course, couldn't stop teasing you. "So, how do you like him better, in a suit or with that tight shirt?" She grinned at you. "Damn, I should have waited until he went swimming for that question, I guess. It would be an easier decision then." 
You smacked her on her shoulder but both of you were giggling. "I don't think it would be an easy decision at all. He looks damn fine in a suit, but this shirt is… uh… nice, too. I doubt it can get any better." Megan knew you were going to learn soon how wrong you were so she just let out a loud belly laugh.
Sy looked over to you two, probably searching for the source of laughter. And you could tell the moment when he noticed you were there, too. His eyes got slightly wider and his mouth fell open for a second. He turned his head back to the guy he was talking to, but he seemed to be distracted, fiddling with his fingers, licking his lips and every so often squinting over in your direction. You were surprised to see him like that. This wasn't the confident guy you had seen until now. 
Megan saw it, too.  "D'ahw, he likes you, girl!" she remarked. 
You tried your best to act normal and apparently Sy found back to his cocky self after a while, too. But when he grabbed the back of his shirt to pull it over his head, you couldn’t keep your composure any longer. 
“Fuck me!” you mumbled under your breath. Megan shoved her elbow into your side, grinning. 
“Told you so!” she sing-songed into your ear. You both watched how Sy stepped into the water, diving into a wave. 
Megan’s husband Fletcher dropped down next to you. “Ladies, you are staring!” he said amusedly. 
You decided that you should go back to reading when Megan and Fletcher got up to get some sandwiches. But the book you read lead into a quite smutty scene exactly now that you tried to stop thinking about that half-naked hunk in the water. That didn’t help at all! You rolled over to lie on your stomach. At least you weren’t able to look at him now. 
Two pages later, a shadow fell upon you and your book. Followed by tiny cold drops of water dripping down your warm skin. You let out a shriek and turned to see who it was that startled you like that. You had to squint your eyes due to the sun, but it was very clear whose wide frame was standing in front of you. Sy threw a towel into the sand next to you and sat down.
“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to make you scream like that.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a cocky smirk. "Watchu reading?” He nodded at your book. 
Oh no! You definitely didn’t want to tell him about that cheesy vampire smut. “Uhm, just a fantasy novel,” you muttered under your breath, hoping that this would be enough information for him. But you weren't lucky. 
“Fantasy? Really? I read a lot of fantasy stuff myself. What is it? Maybe I have read it, too.” Sy grabbed your book from between your arms faster than you could react. He turned it to look onto the cover. 
Sy amusedly raised an eyebrow when he saw the artwork and the title. “Hu, now that is probably still on my to-read-list,” he said with a deep chuckle. 
You wished the sand under you would just swallow you, so you didn’t have to look into these beautiful ocean blue eyes next to you ever again. You were mortified! As Sy noticed you not only blushing but also turning your head away from him, he shook his head. 
“Shush, hey, I’m just joking. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.” He laid your book down again onto your blanket and instead put his hand onto your shoulder. 
That was unexpected. But it felt good and somehow it made you feel more comfortable again. You turned to look into his face again and you noticed that the cheeky grin had disappeared and was replaced with a warm smile. 
“I’m Sy, by the way. But I guess someone already told you.” He looked over to Megan.
You nodded and gave him your name. “But I guess someone already told you,” you parroted him, which he answered with a smirk. “But Sy isn’t your real name, right?” you asked. Sy raised his right eyebrow and pulled up one corner of his mouth. He probably had to answer this question way too often. 
“Benjamin Jacob Syverson it is. But since there were four Ben’s in our football team we had to get creative with the nicknames.” He drew quotation marks into the air with his fingers at the word ‘creative’. “And somehow ‘Sy’ stuck with me. Even my sister calls me Sy now, which is quite stupid if you think about it.” There was that deep chuckle again that gave you goosebumps despite you lying in the warm Texas summer sun. 
Sy and you got to talk and you soon realized that he not only had a hypnotizing appeal, but he also was smart and your conversation with him just felt so easy and relaxed. Damn, you were falling hard for him. It was the second time you saw him, the first time you talked to him and there you were, totally smitten.
When Megan came back to you and practically pulled you with her into the water you were almost furious that she had interrupted your talk with Sy. But then you saw him following you into the waves and you couldn’t be mad at Megan anymore.
The rest of the day felt like a summer daydream. You were swimming, drinking, laughing. And all the time Sy was somewhere around you. In the evening Megan and Fletcher asked you to join them for a beach volleyball match. 
“We need a fourth person,” you said, looking around. 
Megan's cousin Terry came over to you. “I could join!” he suggested. But then Sy stood up and stepped between you and Terry.
“No offense, but it would be kind of unfair teaming her up with you, Terry. You would look like hobbits playing against giants. I think she needs a partner that is a little bit taller than you.” And yes, Sy looked ridiculous tall next to Terry. And broad. And sexy. 
So it was you and Sy against Fletcher and Megan. It was no surprise to you that Sy was very competitive. He went all in, throwing himself into the sand, sweat running down his bare back. You enjoyed every minute of it. In the end you won and before you could think, you found yourself jumping onto Sy, hugging him like a koala. 
He grabbed you by your thighs and chuckled. “That was worth the fight!”
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In the next couple of weeks you met Sy sometimes at the bar or at gatherings with friends but to your disappointment you never got that close to him anymore like you did at that day on the beach. You were tempted to ask Fletcher for his phone number, but somehow you wanted him to make the next step. Maybe you were kind of old-fashioned but you wanted him to woo you. And so you were waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
And then there was this day in October, the sun was shining and you were driving home from your office, singing loud and wrong to your favorite songs. Ahead of you you noticed a truck standing in the dirt beside the road. The hood was open and you saw a pair of jeans leaning against the front. 
Okay, you were taught to be kind and offer help. But you were also a woman alone on an empty road. You struggled if you should stop. Reducing your speed, you carefully approached the car. And then you let out a snort when you saw who was standing at his broken truck. 
“Hey Sy, need a savior?” you asked him with a wide grin when you stopped next to him. He looked up from under the hood and answered with a surprised huff.
"I'm not sure what kind of help I need at all right now, darlin'. I thought I could fix that goddamn piece of scrap like I usually do. But it seems this time it's not that easy." Sy scrowled while scratching the back of his head with his greasy fingers.
You parked your car in front of his truck and got out to him. You leaned against the fender and looked onto the engine as if you had any idea how cars work. Well, to be honest, you looked at Sy's arms and hands that rested on some parts of which you had, of course, no idea what they were. Somehow this grime look, greasy and oily, affected you more than you would have guessed. As if you needed to be more drawn to that guy as you already were.
Sy ruttled on some cables, according to his facial expression not with any success. "Sugar, can you get into the car and try to start it?"
You climbed into the driver's cabin and adjusted the seat a good amount forward so you'd be able to get to the pedals. You turned the keys but the car just spat out some sad noises.
Sy shook his head and worked on some other cables. "Once more, please?"
You tried again but there was no change. The engine didn't start.
Sy dropped the hood shut and kicked against the tyre. "That damn marten probably munched on my cables again. I'm gonna kill that little bastard!"
He got to the driver's cabin and held out his hand. "Can you give me a ride into town, darlin'?"
"Sure!" you answered, although your voice didn't sound sure at all. You put your hand in his and jumped to the ground. But you didn't expect that fluttering feeling that suddenly hit your stomach and so you stumbled forwards. 
Sy's arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush into his embrace. You didn't even feel embarrassed as you inhaled his scent while you stayed in his arms way too long for that accidental situation.
"You okay?" he asked you when you had finally managed to take a step back.
You nodded and gave him a smile. "Yeah, I'm just awful clumsy," you told him. 
Both of you got into your car, Sy looking ridiculously big in the passenger's seat of your Toyota Yaris. You turned down the volume of the radio and talked with him for a few miles. 
"You really care for your truck, don't you?" you asked him. You had noticed that although it was an old model it was very well maintained.
Sy gave you a strange look, somehow sad. "Yes. I really hope it's just that stupid rodent again and nothing more serious. The truck was my dad's! He gave it to me on my 16th birthday. It was old even back then but it was mine." He took a deep breath before he continued. "I lost my dad half a year later. He didn't come back from Iraq."
"Oh!" Your hand reached out to his and pressed it slightly. This time you were prepared for the sensation of feeling his warmth. "I'm sorry," you said in loss of other words.
A silence fell upon you that wasn't actually uncomfortable but after some time you felt like you needed to say something.
"So, where can I drop you off? Some repair shop?" Sy shook his head.
"No, I'm just texting my cousin to go fetch the car and I'll fix it on my own. Could you please drive me home?"
You nodded and continued to drive in silence until you made it to town. Sy cleared his throat like he wanted to say something, but didn't continue. At the next crossroad you turned left. Sy turned his head to you and finally started to speak.
"You know where I live?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, although he looked more amused than surprised. Heat crept up your cheeks and ears. You felt like a stalker. Probably because you were a stalker.  Megan had pointed out his house when you were driving by a few weeks ago. And maybe you had made a little detour sometimes since then, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. 
"It's a small town." You shrugged awkwardly and luckily he didn't seem to mind.
"That's true. How'chu like it here? A little bit different than Chicago, hu?" A grin spread over his face.
"Hell, yes, but in a good way. I know people are always talking about southern hospitality, but you know, it's really true. At least here in this town. I feel so welcome, I made more friends in these few months than in Chicago in half of my life."
Sy's chest puffed out proud when he listened to you, which was really kind of cute.
"And do you enjoy the southern hospitality of someone in particular?" he asked next. You weren't quite sure if you understood that question correctly so you just blinked at him.
"Are you seeing someone?" Sy rephrased with a wink.
"Oh!" You felt stupid. "No, not like that." You hadn't even finished your sentence when Sy's smile widened across his face.
"That's good!"he said, just to correct himself in the next second. "I mean, it's not good that you don't have someone. It's good because I actually wanted to ask you out."
You felt your heart race in your chest. He really wanted to go on a date with you? Yes, that's what he had said.
"I'd love that!" you told him.
Sy didn't say anything in response but grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over your palm. Though you felt like you couldn't focus on driving any longer somehow you made it to his house shortly after. 
Sy let go of your hand and you both got out of your car. With wide steps, Sy circled around the car to get to you. 
"Thanks for the ride, sugar!" He leaned down to you and gave you a kiss on your cheek. It was so gentle you almost weren't able to feel it. What a shame!
Sy pulled his mobile out of his back pocket, unlocked it and gave it to you.
"If you give me your number I'm gonna text you later. If you really want to go out with me, it is, of course." The wink he gave you made sure that he was very well aware that you wanted to. So you added your number and gave it back to him. He held the phone up, silently asking for permission to take a photo of you. You gave him a small nod. But instead of taking a picture immediately, Sy leaned forward to kiss you once more on your cheek. This time his soft lips rested longer on your skin. And while he was kissing you, he took a selfie of you two.  
"Sy!" You were too flabbergasted to really enjoy it but the feeling in your stomach told you, you really liked him being so near to you.
Sy looked at his screen grinning and held it up for you. You looked absolutely ridiculous, eyes wide in surprise.
"Oh no, please delete this. I'm looking so stupid!" you begged him, but he just chuckled and shook his head. 
"No, you're pretty as a speckled pup!"
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Over the next week Sy and you had texted with each other every day and when you really had a bad day at work, he had even called you and you talked for almost two hours, feeling so much better after. 
When you met with Megan on Friday for lunch you were starting to get nervous because of the upcoming date.
"I have no idea what he's up to. He told me it's a surprise but what the hell am I supposed to wear?" You shoved your salad from one side of the plate to the other, not really eating much at all.
"Girl, calm down. Just wear some tight jeans and a top. And nice matching underwear, of course." Megan giggled as you gave her an annoyed look.
You were under the shower when you heard your mobile ring. Hastily you grabbed a towel and went to answer the phone. It was Sy. 
"Hey, handsome!" You sat down on your bed, ignoring the fact that you were still dripping wet.
"Hey!" The hesitant, almost silent answer made your heart drop. This was the sound of someone knowing they'll disappoint you soon. He changed his mind.
"Sugar, I'm so sorry. I won't be able to go out with you." There it was. You gulped, not able to say something, so Sy continued.
"I got notice that I have to leave next week. I..  There's a lot I have to get done before that. I wasn't expecting to be deployed that soon."
You still just sat there. He was leaving in a few days. You won't be able to see him for months. And he chose to cancel your date. The last chance to be with you.
"Darlin', I'm sorry. I really am." 
"It's okay, Sy. I understand." You really did. But it hurt nevertheless.
You had hoped for some texts coming from him. Some sign that he was thinking of you. 
Then you thought that maybe he wasn't able to send messages at all. But when Fletcher told you that he had gotten text messages from him you knew that this wasn't true. He just didn't want to stay in contact with you. 
Well, it's not like you two were a thing after all. You barely knew each other. 
You tried to move on, tried to forget him. Megan even managed to persuade you to go on a few blind dates with guys she thought would distract you enough. 
But nothing you did was enough to stop thinking about him. Every night you lay in your bed, thinking of the few moments you had shared or wondering what he was going through right now.
After a while you hid your heartache from your friends, even Megan was sure you were over Sy. And so no one thought it would be hard for you to come to the homecoming party your friends organized for him. But it was.
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You look up to the stars, blinking the tears away that gather in the corners of your eyes. The night sky in Texas is so beautiful. But it makes you feel even smaller and insignificant. Maybe you should just go home. 
You get up but instead of just leaving, of course, you have to glance over to him again. He leans over to Fletcher, talking and gesturing. Both men share another look and then Sy walks away. He moves into your direction. Fuck!
The whole evening you pondered what you would say to him when he would come over to you. If he would come over to you.
Now your brain just feels empty. You turn around again, looking up to the sky once more. You hear his heavy footsteps approaching. And then you feel his warm hands rub over your arms.
"Damn, you're freezing, darlin'. Why dont'chu get a little closer to the fire?" His hands don't stop moving up and down your arms and he even moves closer to you and you feel the heat of his chest on your back.
"I want to look at the stars. At the fire it's too bright." 
You feel Sy nodding. You two stand there for what feels like an eternity without talking.
"You didn't say hi," he remarks after a while. 
“You didn’t say goodbye!” is your answer and you can’t hide the bitterness in your words. 
Sy inhales deeply. “I didn’t,” is all he says. Then he pulls his Hoodie over his head and gives it to you. “Here, you are shivering.” 
You don’t want to accept it, but he is right. You really are freezing. And you need to talk with Sy, give it a closure, whatever it was that you two had last year.
So you put it on. And you realize immediately that this was a fault. You take in the scent it radiates. The scent that takes you back to the moments where you were lucky enough to be near him. When he leaned down to you at Megan’s wedding, that day on the beach when you jumped into his arms, the day you stumbled into his embrace and he kissed your cheek. 
“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to sit there waiting for me when we didn’t even know if this is something worth waiting for. And to be honest, I wanted to protect myself, too. I was afraid I couldn’t make it through these months if I felt more for you than I already did.”
Sy sits down on the rock, his thighs spread wide. He pulls you down to sit in between them and wraps his arms around you. 
“Didn’t help anyway. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you the whole fuckin’ time. Every hour of every day of every week of every month. Was starin’ at the stars so often. Always thought that at least they are the same, shining down on me and you. That made me feel a little bit nearer to you. And I was lookin’ at your photo all the time.” You hear his deep chuckle, although it sounds a little bit different than you know it. It has some sad undertones this time.
Of all the things he told you, you pick the most stupid thing to answer him. “Noooo, not that stupid photo, I’m looking awful in it.”
This time Sy’s chuckle is brighter, the way you know and love it. “Nope, darlin’, already told you. Pretty as a speckled pup!”
You turn your head to look at him. And at the sight of him, looking at you so soft, the fire throwing light and shadow over his face, you know it’s going to happen. You lean into him, you can feel his breath and then finally he closes the last distance and his lips brush over yours. His whiskers tickle at the corner of your mouth but you decide immediately that you love it. 
Sy grabs you at your waist and pulls you sideways onto his lap. With the new angle, he is able to pull you closer and deepen his kiss. His tongue carefully licks over your upper lip and you respond to it by opening your mouth to let him explore it. You feel like the world around you fades away and it is just Sy and you. Both of you put all the love, all the desperation you felt in the last eight months into this kiss and so your hearts are racing when you finally part your lips again, gasping for air. 
Sy stands up, carrying you bridal style without any effort. When he moves you near the fire, you notice that everyone else is gone. Sy sees the confused expression on your face and grins.
“I asked Fletcher if he could make sure to give us a little more privacy.” Sy kneels down on a blanket next to the fire and puts you down. His wide frame leans over you the next moment and his mouth is on yours again. Soon his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw and neck, finally resting on a spot under your ear where his kisses and sucks made your whole body shiver. 
He pulls his head back, looking down onto you with his eyes dark. “Are you still cold?” he asks you. 
“No, I’m feeling as good as never before,” you whisper. Your hand travels to his jaw and you run your fingers through his coarse beard. Sy leans into your touch, closing his eyes.
“I can shave it!” he tells you but you shake your head. “No, I think I like it. Missing your curls though.” you answer him while running your other hand through the soft hair on the back of his head. 
“Yeah, gonna need to grow them out again. You will need something to hold onto.” He winks at you and you can’t hold back a laugh. That’s the Sy you missed so much.
You get back to kiss each other, and soon your hands are traveling over each other's bodies. The heat of the fire and of Sy’s body gets to you and you lean up to get rid of Sy’s hoodie. Sy mirrors you and pulls his shirt over his head. You gasp at the sight of his bare chest. His shoulders are even wider than you remember and you can’t help it, you want to bite into his pecs that heave with every one of his deep breaths.
You straddle him and kiss him passionately. Sy’s hands grab your ass and he pulls you impossibly close to him. You feel him pressing against your core, hard and big, and you moan at the sensation. Sy tugs on your shirt and you help him to get it off of you. You hadn’t bothered to wear a bra and Sy grunts in appreciation as his hands cup both of your breasts. Soon he repalces one hand with his mouth and he circles your hard nipple with his tongue. “Damn, baby you are gorgeous!” he tells you and sinks back into the soft flesh of your breasts.
Then he moves, laying you down onto your back and slowly he trails a path of wet kisses down to your belly until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. His eyes move up to your face as his hands go for the button. Instead of an answer you help him open it and pull at your zipper. Sy rolls down your jeans, tugging the tight fabric until you are finally laying in front of him, only in your soaked panties. His beard tickles you as he kisses you all the way up from your ankle to your knee and then further up your thigh and you squirm under him. Soon you feel his warm breath through the lacy fabric of your underwear. 
“Please, Sy!” you beg and he answers you teasingly with a chaste kiss onto your clothed mound. “Sy! Please!” you plead once more and he finally listens. He pulls down your panties and parts your legs with his shoulders. And then his mouth is where you wanted it to be. 
Slowly, way too slowly, he licks with his tongue through your folds up to your clit. A gasp escapes your mouth when he reaches your pearl. Sy keeps playing with it, drawing circles around it, sucking it into his mouth. With his tongue flattened, he laps along your entrance and then he gets back to your clit again. When you already notice the tension in your middle build up, you feel a finger push into you.
Sy curls it to find your most sensitive spot. And when he reaches it, he adds a second finger and pumps them into you. All the while he rolls your clit between his lips. You can hardly breathe over the sensation Sy's tongue and fingers give you. You press your hips up to his mouth when your climax washes over you and you feel your whole body melt under his ministrations. And even after you come down from your high, Sy doesn’t stop moving over your now oversensitive pearl.
You wriggle under his touch. „Sy, come here!“ you tell him and pull him up to you. Droplets of your juices fall from his wet beard onto your chest when he leans over you with a wide grin.
He sinks his head down to you and kisses you frantically, building up the ache in your core again. You start to fumble on his belt. You’re impatient and want to feel him in every way possible. You had waited so long for this to happen, now you can’t wait a minute longer. But Sy takes all his time to drag this out.
Finally, you manage to undo his belt and your fingers work on the buttons of his jeans next.
“Sy!” you moan into his ear. “I want this so much. I want you.” He just growls in response. His mouth is on your neck and his hand travels down between your legs again. You are still not able to free him from his damn pants and you let out a frustrated huff. 
“Will you just already get out of these jeans and fuck me?” you almost cry out. Sy chuckles lightly. 
“Oh, baby, I will. Trust me. Just give me one minute. There’s a condom in my jacket.” He gets up and your gaze follows him as he walks to his truck. You take in how the thin layer of sweat that covers his back glistens in the light of the bonfire. It’s the hottest thing you have ever seen. 
He gets the condom and then, when he turns back to you, you have to correct yourself. THIS is the hottest thing you have ever seen: Sy walks back to the fire, and when he is towering over you, his chest glistening of sweat all the same, he opens his jeans and lets them drop into the dirt. He’s been going commando under them, so he stands there in all his glory. And because it’s Sy, he’s looking at you with his signature cocky smirk and his eyes dark with desire. 
You grab his hand and pull him down to you. Sy drops next to you and the moment he’s on the ground, you take your chance and get on top of him. You kiss him, starting on his neck, then going down over his chest and stomach and then you follow the trail of dark hair to his hard and veiny cock. You pause your movement to lick your lips and then you finally sink your mouth over the swollen head of his cock. Your tongue circles around it and Sy answers with a loud growl. 
You can’t take him fully into your mouth but you do your best to make him feel good with your lips, tongue and hand. And you feel him twitch and grow on your tongue.
“Baby, please, you need to stop or I’m not going to last. It’s been too long.” He pulls back and puts the condom into your hand. You sit up and carefully you open the package and roll the condom over his dick. 
Then you straddle him, one fist around his cock. Slowly, you guide him through your wet folds to your entrance. You stop for a second, your eyes meet, and your heart is going to burst by the sight of him, looking at you hungrily but also so soft. You sink down onto him, inch for inch and you can barely breathe at the sensation of him stretching you out. When you are seated completely, Sy leans up to you and kisses you. You hook your legs around his hips, put your arms around his neck and pull him tight. Your lips meet again as you start to roll your hips in a slow rhythm. 
Your breasts brush over his chest with every movement. You kiss over his jaw and his throat, grind your core on him as you ride him. Sy's head sinks down to your breasts, needily he sucks on your nipples while he rakes his nails over the soft skin of your back. 
After some time where you move on top of him in a slow pace, Sy loses his patience, grabs your sides and starts to thrust up to you. Now your hips are crashing together roughly as you both chase your high. Sy lets out deep moans in the same rhythm as his thrusts. One last time he pushes his hips up to you and then he comes with a rumbling groan. He holds you tight against his chest. You follow him only seconds after, just by feeling and hearing his release you reach your high, too and you ride him slowly until the shockwaves that rush through your body cease.
Sy softens the grip of his arms around you and looks at you with hooded eyes. You climb off of him and you fall onto the blanket next to Sy. Panting, both of you look at each other and just smile like idiots.
“So, can I finally take you on a date, then?” Sy asks and you both laugh.
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Sequel: Something like that
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Friendly Fire
Author’s Note: Hello, again! I’d like to thank everyone who liked, commented, and shared my first little project. The love it received was overwhelming for a newbie to the fanfic scene, and I’m so grateful for the input and encouragement. This story takes place in the same timeline as my first installation, so if you haven’t had a chance to read Homeward Bound yet, you can find it here. Don’t worry, though! There won’t be a specific timeline to follow. The idea is to give little glimpses into an established relationship, so you’re not missing anything (yet!). We started with a reunion, so it only seems fair to take it back to where it all began. I can’t wait for everyone to meet the new woman in Sy’s life. Happy reading!  Summary: Last night, Syverson met the love of his life. If only he could remember it. Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female OC  Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol consumption and weapons, adult language, and (almost) implied smut. Sy is his own warning. I am an adult, and due to the nature of this content, all works created by me will be rated for those 18 years and older. Minors, DNI.
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“Oh, fuck me,” Sy groaned to himself. He threw a heavy arm over his face and sighed, doing his best to block out the sun as it creeped in through the blinds, but resistance was futile. Stupidly optimistic birds chirped their early morning songs, each shrill call rattling around in his skull like an angry swarm of wasps, wild and pissed off. His body felt heavy, his joints ached, and his stomach churned. “I’m gettin’ too old fer this shit.” 
Sy could handle a little hangover. He’d done it before, and Lord know’s he’d do it again. In truth, he’d been burning the candle at both ends since he’d made it home. Sy hadn’t taken a leave since his first year in the military. His reasoning? 30 days go by too quick, no use in getting comfortable somewhere just to pack up and ship out again. This time though, he’d decided that he’d earned a bit of a break. That, and his mama was threatening to cut him out of the will if he didn’t show his face at least once this year. Not that he’d get much, of course; that wasn’t the principle of her empty threats. He knew it just as well as she did. She was starting to get up there in age, and time waits for no one. Especially not for Clayton Syverson. 
Groaning softly, he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, heavy limbs moving a little slower than usual this morning. He stretched and yawned, balling up a fist to rub the sleep from his bleary eyes. A thought crossed his mind as he worked to get those old bones moving again and he stopped dead in his tracks, hand still over his left eye and mouth still agape. “Wait…how the fuck did I make it home?”
Sy took stock of the room around him. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place. Everything was just as he’d left it. The tops of the dresser and chest of drawers were bare, as was the nightstand. The laundry basket that sat atop the trunk at the foot of the bed was still there, filled with neatly rolled t-shirts, socks, and skivvies. The only things that seemed to be out of sorts were his bed (since he hadn’t had the chance to make it yet), and his jeans that laid crumpled on the floor at his feet. “Weird,” he mused, and pushed himself to stand. Padding off to the bathroom for that blissful first piss of the day, he lifted the seat on the commode to relieve himself. Hold on. Lift the toilet seat? He hadn’t had to do that since he left home, nearly a decade ago. 
“What the fuck is goin’ on, now?” Must’ve been a visit from the toilet seat fairy, since he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had stepped foot into this old house. Sy could feel the hair on the back of his neck start to prickle up as he washed his hands. When his eyes found his reflection in the mirror above the sink, he had to talk himself down again. 
“Get a grip, dickhead. No one broke in just ta’ use the can.” Wandering back out to the bedroom, he’d almost made it out into the hallway, when he’d heard it. One more step, and he might’ve missed it. The soft creak of old floorboards below gave him another moment of pause. Sy held his breath as he listened intently for a moment, almost willing the house to groan again under the shift of weight. Nothing. A rush of wind left his chest as he sighed and shook his head. He swore himself off of corn liquor, never again, and took the stairs two at a time on his way down to raid the fridge for something to eat. “Hmm…somethin’ smells good. Is that–”  Bacon. That ain’t no toilet fairy down there. Someone’s here.
Soft, tranquil humming echoed down the hall. Whoever it was seemed to like Fleetwood Mac, as they aimlessly flipped slice after slice of pork products into his skillet. A loud pop of grease made him, and the intruder, flinch. “Oww! Shit!” Then the tap squeaked, followed by the sound of rushing water, and Sy thanked God that he hadn’t had time to fix it yet. Good. He knew this old farmhouse like the back of his hand, so he knew exactly where the stranger would be standing when he'd walk in. They’d have their back to him, and he’d have the upper hand. Reaching blindly into the armoire to his right, he drew the revolver from the false bottom of the drawer and peaked around the corner of the doorframe. His thumb hovered over the hammer, ready to cock it, when what he saw gave him pause. Who he saw, was more like it. 
“I know you.” The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. Her head snapped up from the sink as she turned towards the sound of his voice. She was just as startled as he was. 
“Well, I sure hoped you would.” 
Turning off the tap and reaching for a towel to dab at her scalded hand, she leaned against the counter like she owned the place. Her hair spilled down her shoulders and back in effortless, mahogany waves. The shirt she wore was stolen, and wrinkled from sleep. The logo was faded yet unmistakable, and the hem fell to about the middle of her sunkissed thigh. Why was she wearing his Skynard shirt? She watched as his eyes grew wide with realization, and it made her laugh. 
“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy,” the intruder smirked, and lifted up the shirt to reveal a pair of cut off levis beneath it. “You sure tried like hell, but…nothing happened. How’s the head?” 
Visions of last night’s bonfire flashed through his mind. It felt like flipping through a stack of polaroids. Everything was blurry, all soft and fuzzy at the corners. One minute, he was leaning against the tailgate of his truck, nursing a beer and watching as his friends acted a’fool. The next, Johnny was passing around a quart of his homemade moonshine and calling him a pussy for trying to turn it down.  Damnit, Johnny. Sy recalled that the eyes that stared him down from across the room now were the same ones that gleamed at him in the warmth of the flames that flickered between them the night before. If only he could remember how they got there. 
As if to read his mind, she nodded as she spoke, returning to the stove just in time to salvage the last of the bacon. “You, uh…you went a little hard with that paint thinner Johnny had. I just wanted to make sure you made it home alright. Hope that’s okay.”  Sy licked his lips slowly as he processed what she was trying to say, then gave a short nod. He removed his finger from the trigger and tucked the gun away again as smoothly as possible. He didn’t want to spook her. She made him breakfast, after all. 
“Right. Thank ya, Miss.” Deeming it safe again, he crossed the threshold into the kitchen and watched as she turned off the flame beneath the cast iron on the stovetop. He felt out of place, like he should be doing something to help, so he crossed the room to grab the orange juice from the fridge. 
“Merrin,” she finished for him, then reiterated. “I’m Merrin. And you’re…Sy? That's what they call you, right?” For the first time all day, Sy cracked a crooked smile her way and pulled down two clean glasses from the cabinet beside the sink. 
“Yes ma’am, but my mama named me Clay.” 
“Clay. Got it.”
Breakfast was served, and the two strangers sat down to eat it. Merrin filled him in on what he missed from the night before. Johnny bet Sarah that she couldn’t shotgun a beer faster than he could. He lost. Petey and Melissa snuck off to the woods to skinny dip in the creek and came back with poison oak in some pretty intimate places. Roscoe passed out in the grass, and Luke and James had to carry him back to the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Saturday night in rural Texas. He asked about her, where she came from and what she was doing in his neck of the woods. She told him how she’d moved to town about six months ago, how she’d bought that cute little split level on the corner of Oak and Adams street. All Sy heard, though, was that he could’ve been sitting here with her six months ago. Maybe he outta come home more often.
“So,” he started, rinsing the suds from the face of his plate as he stood at the sink. They’d demolished that stack of bacon and eggs and were working to clean up after themselves. “How’d you end up in my shirt?”
Merrin smirked as she dried a glass and tucked it away again. “You don’t remember?” She was all too pleased to share this story. Sy laughed a deep, hearty chuckle that rattled loudly in his broad chest and shook his head. 
“Well…” she teased. “We’d been staring at each other most of the night. I’d been waiting for you to introduce yourself, but after a while, I just thought I must’a looked funny or somethin’.” 
“Mhm…” he hummed, his eyes never once leaving hers. He’d had a cup of coffee and a handful of Advil with his toast, so things were a little clearer now. He remembered watching her from afar as she chatted and giggled with her friends. He remembered thinking he’d want to remember the way she looked when she smiled his way. How he wanted to remember the way the light danced in her eyes when she laughed. She continued before he could ask her to carry on.
“When you finally got the courage to make a move, you decided that I looked a little thirsty. You grabbed me a beer, crossed the yard, tripped over a tree limb, and…poured it down my back.”
Sy winced. Surely she must be joking. One look at the smile on her face told him that she wasn’t, and he groaned. “Well shit, sugar. I’m real sorry. At least let me–”
“It’s already in the dryer. Don’t worry, big guy. You can pay me back when you take me out to dinner Friday night.” She gave a playful pat to his chest and grinned, brushing by him on her way to clear the rest of the table. Sy turned to follow her, his eyes grazing over the curve of her backside as she bent down to grab a napkin from the floor. He smiled, stacked the plate into the strainer and tossed a dish towel over his shoulder. 
“Sounds like a plan, darlin’.”
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gummydummy19 · 5 months
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Kinktober day 6: Bondage (Captain Syverson x F reader)
Request: by @jamneuromain
Balance
Summary: Sy loses a bet and you give him a taste of his own medicine
Content Warnings: smut, fluffy ending
A/N: This was very very very fun to write :))
Word count: 1400+
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"Please, sugar...FUCK, please please, c'mon!"
He didn't even know what he was begging for.
More? Less? Stop? Don't stop, ever?
"Tut tut! Be a good boy for me, Daddy..." you cooed, pressing more kisses on his chest while lazily jerking his leaking cock with the vibrating stroker toy you got him.
The cockring that sat snug around his balls prevented him from cumming. Tears had been welling in his eyes for at least half an hour, but stubborn as he was, he refused to let them fall.
Logan Syverson was a good lover. He was kind, he was respectful and he had a habit of making you cum so many times you lost count.
Sy was a lot of things, but gentle wasn't one of them.
You knew he loved you, he made sure of that. He told you so every single day. And that was necessary because every single night he fucked you like he didn't.
He would tease you until you cried. He made you beg him to touch you before making you beg him to stop. He was relentless, he was mean.
You didn't mind it, you wouldn't be with him if you did, but sometimes it seemed a little unfair. He got to push your boundaries all the time, but you never got to push his. You wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. To show him you craved other things sometimes. You were such a good girl, surely he could learn how to be a bit softer...from time to time.
One afternoon, you saw a video on TikTok. It was a girl challenging her boyfriend to do an exercise she was doing, where she leaned down with her hands behind her back. It seemed fairly easy, but no matter what the guy tried, he kept falling over. Apparently, a man's balance point is lower than a woman's, which means there are certain movements they can't do without losing balance.
You decided to challenge Sy to a bet. Whoever fell over first, lost, and the person who kept their balance got to do whatever they wanted in the bedroom.
Sy never lost bets. Which is why he had agreed to make this one. Because he was so incredibly sure he would win.
"So all I have to do is keep my balance?" he raised his brow before chuckling, "easy."
He stood beside you and watched your movements, confidentially copying what you were doing, but to his surprise, when he went to lean over with his hands behind his back he landed straight on his face.
You giggled at his frustrated growl.
"Wh-god damn it that didn't count! Let me try again!" he sputtered, straightening himself
"Nuh-uh! You know the deal." You grinned, shuffling closer to him before wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, "You're mine Captain Syverson. Mine to do with as I please."
It had been hours.
Sy was a mess. His arms were tied above his head, his face was red and sweaty and his cock was leaking like never before.
You had brought him to the edge countless of times, every single time you promised you'd let him cum, and every single time he fell for it, hope swirling in the pit of his stomach before he got disappointed all over again.
He had a safeword, yet he refused to use it. Insisting he was strong. He was a trained army captain, he could take some teasing. Especially since this was absolutely nothing in comparison with what he did to you...like at all.
Damn...he really was mean.
"Does daddy wanna cum?" , your tone was teasing...taunting even as you looked up at him with the most innocent doe eyes you could manage.
"Fuck yes...please princess...be a good girl and make daddy cum...please!" He whined, bucking his hips upward when he felt your lips lick the drops off his tip.
"M'always a good girl for daddy, but it doesn't matter does it? Daddy punishes me anyway." You stated
"Shit...I'm sorry, Sugar...daddy is so fucking sorry...please?"
Suddenly, you stopped touching him altogether, sliding the toy off his cock and placing it somewhere he couldn't see.
He whipped his head up, staring at you with desperate eyes.
"What are you sorry for, daddy?" You stared at him expectantly
"I...I'm..." he stuttered
Fuck he wasn't good at this.
"I'm sorry for always being mean, baby...I....I love you, I promise I do, I just..."
"I love you too, Sy." You assured, interrupting him to make sure he didn't spiral.
You knew he wasn't used to being in the submissive spot, and as much as you wanted to bring your point across, you didn't wanna overwhelm him either.
"I love it when you're mean, daddy..." you assured him, pressing a soft his on his tummy, "just need some reassurance sometimes....need my sweet n soft daddy every once in a while..."
Your tongue swiped up the fallen drops of pre-cum on his stomach, moaning at the taste.
"Can you do that for me? Pretty please?"
"I'll do anything for you, Princess," he assured you, looking straight into your eyes so you knew he meant it.
"Hmmm...good daddy" you grinned, before taking his throbbing, hard cock into you mouth.
Sy's head fell back again and he yanked at his cuffs, hands itching you guide your movements.
Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, he heard the familiar buzz of the vibrating stroker, only this time he didn't feel it anywhere.
He peeled his eyes open to what you were doing, and the sight he was met with nearly did him in. His toy was nestled between your legs, pressed perfectly against your clit, making you moan and hum with your mouth still stuffed full of his cock.
'Ah, please! Please let me cum, please! I'm sorry, I'll be good. I'll be so fucking good to you, please. You're such a good girl, such a fucking good girl, please lemme cum baby!" he pleaded.
Having a hard time hearing him beg the way he did, you decided he'd finally had enough. Besides, you were really fucking close to cumming yourself and your submissive nature still wanted to please your daddy,
You quickly removed the cockring from his base, giving him your permission before taking him back in your mouth.
You humped down on the toy a little harder and the second you felt the first surge of Sy's cum hit the back of your throat you tumbled over the edge yourself, moaning around his cock as you swallowed everything he gave you. You road out the faves of your orgasm, relishing in the deep grunts and groans rumbling from Sy's chest.
You made sure to swallow every last drop of Sy's spent before releasing him from your mouth. For a split second, you thought about overstimulating him a little, but when you saw how fucked out and utterly exhausted he looked, you wanted nothing more than to just cuddle up against him.
And that's exactly what you did.
You clumsily crawled up his body, quickly pressing soft kisses up his chest before unlocking the cuffs and tossing them somewhere on the floor.
He was so tired he didn't even move his arms, so you pressed some more kisses on his wrists as you gently put down his arms, snuggling yourself under one of them, nuzzling against his side.
You kept giving him little kisses wherever you could reach, loving the lazy grin that kept growing and growing on his big dumb face.
After a couple minutes, you felt his plush lips against your still-warm cheek. The scruff of his beard made you giggle, and the sound made his heart swell.
Wordlessly, you sat up and grabbed the big bottle of water from your nightstand, handing it over to him.
"You first," he stated, gently pushing it back to you.
Ever the dom, you thought to yourself as you took a couple big gulps before passing it back to him.
The two of you stayed in bed for quite a while after that. Checking in with each other, making sure everything was alright, which it was, more than alright actually.
"I must say, Sugar, I learned a lot today," he sighed, pulling you closer against him.
"Oh, really?" you grinned, pressing a kiss against his beefy shoulder, "Like what?"
He looked at you with a newfound calmness in his eyes before saying,
"How to keep my balance"
Taglist;
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shinisenko · 9 months
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337 notes · View notes
mayloma · 6 months
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A Long Way From Home - Part 4
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Pairing: Captain Syverson (Caleb) x Mackenzie Williams (OFC)
Series Summary: Sometimes, it can take a while to find a place where you belong - especially if the place and the people you once called home no longer exist. But chances are, you’ll stumble across new places and people along your way. And maybe you will arrive after all.  
Series Masterlist
Part Summary: Sy walks Kenzie home.   
Word Count: ca. 4k
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, pining, fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), body fluids, protected p in v sex, a little spanking, a pierced nipple, melancholy. 
Author’s Note: I often go quiet on here when real life becomes too much, but writing is still one of the things that help me stay afloat. So does dreaming about getting laid by a certain beardy captain. Here's the next part of Sy and Kenzie's story to maybe sweeten your Monday a little💕 Happy reading, lovelies!
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“Oh my gosh,” she mouths as they finally stand outside on the sidewalk.
When they left the bar together, the guys and girls at their table didn’t exactly spare with patters and saucy remarks. And Kenzie’s eyes still sparkle with amusement but also with a touch of relief.
“I hope you weren’t surprised,” Sy remarks with a smirk as they begin to walk in the direction of their hotel. 
“I wasn’t,” she snorts. 
“And I hope you know they won’t let us off the hook any time soon.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.”
“Do I hear a sound of regret?” he asks with a sideglance, raising an eyebrow. 
“No. At least not yet.” 
Once again, her grin is sweet and pure mischief at the same time. And once again, it does things to him. Things like making him imagine how that grin would play on her lips as he pinned her down to the mattress and how a touch of it would linger while he fucked her, lust and yearning taking over. 
But right now, her grin makes him laugh, and their laughter ricochets off the house walls in the quiet side street. 
Then, they fall silent; the faint rushing from the main street and the noise of their shoes on the sidewalk - heels and boots - the only sounds to be heard. 
Both of them are drifting, matching the pace of their steps to the nocturnal city where everything seems to move a little less hectic, a little less busy than by daylight. They don’t talk much, and both rather dwelt on their thoughts. 
It’s nice to walk next to her like that. Without feeling the urge to fill the silence with words. It feels calm and easy somehow. Or at least he’s calm until their shadows, which the streetlights cast onto the sidewalk, catch his eye. 
A pair of shadow figures. Sometimes with sharp, sometimes with blurred lines. Growing and shrinking, distorting as they pass one streetlight after another. The shadow figures look as if they walk hand in hand. Like lovers do. 
He thinks about how Kenzie’s hand felt in his, so nice and warm. And the memory prys the calm away from him. 
By the time they arrive at the more frequented crossroad in front of their hotel, his whole body itches to reach out for her. Goddammit, he didn’t have a smoke for years, but he’d give his right arm for a cigarette at this moment, just to be able to do fuckin’ something. 
Walking through the hotel lobby grants him a solid 20 seconds of distraction, but as soon as the elevator doors close behind them, tension creeps upon him once again, filling the narrow elevator cab from floor to ceiling. 
They stand face-to-face, Sy on one side of the cab, Kenzie on the other. There's nothing else to look at but her, and even if the Mona Lisa were hanging right here next to him, there was no way he could take his eyes off the girl in the red dress. 
His eyes roam her form and her features, downright drinking her in. The soft curves of her body under the soft fabric. Her hand tightly clutching the handrail. The tiny bit of black lace peeking out under the strap of her dress. Her pretty mouth that looks so soft. And how the tip of her tongue moistens her lips. 
She brushes a strand of hair from her face, slightly raising her chin. And his eyes seem glued to her exposed neck. She swallows hard, and he imagines how he’d run his tongue over the spot where her pulse beats. And how he’d feel the frantic rhythm underneath her soft skin.  
It’s only when the elevator doors open that he averts his gaze. And it didn’t escape him that Kenzie gave a jerk. 
As she leads the way to her room, she darts a brief glance over her shoulder. As if she wanted to check if he’s still there. 
It only takes him the blink of an eye and two long steps to close up to her and give her a reassuring smile. I’m right here, sugar! 
“Thanks for walking me home,” she says as they stand in front of her room, and the smile playing on her lips is a bit less cheeky than usual. 
She actually looks a little nervous, running her tongue along her lips as she fiddles with her keycard.
“Would you… umm…” 
“Would I what?” he can’t help but tease her gently as she trails off. 
Their gazes meet, and she laughs softly. 
“Gosh,” she mumbles, shaking her head, “if they still had minibars, I would at least have an excuse to ask you in.” 
Her crooked smile is nothing less than disarming, and all he can do is smile back at her. 
“Ya don’t have to make up excuses,” he reassures her. “Not with me.”
“I don’t?” 
He slowly shakes his head. 
“All ya hafta do is ask nicely.” 
Snappin’ yer fingers would probably do, too, for fucks sake. 
Again, she chuckles, and her gaze briefly trails off before she turns it back at him. 
“Would you like to come in, Sy?” she asks softly. 
“I’d love to,” he mumbles in a hoarse voice. 
“Good,” she retorts, and then she spins around on her heel to unlock the door while he smiles at her feigned snippiness. 
Stop it, sugar! Just stop bein’ so fuckin’ adorable! 
Sy follows her inside, curiously looking around the room for a moment while she kicks off her shoes. 
Everything is drenched in the dim lighting of the bedside lamps, and it looks the same as his room, just mirror-inverted. 
The main difference is her personal stuff spread all over the place. Reading glasses and a book on the armchair. A small stuffed animal on the bedside table. A shopping bag on the small desk, and a few cut-off price tags. Someone went shopping, hm?
As Kenzie reaches past him to hang her handbag on the wardrobe hook behind him, her forearm brushes against his, instantly drawing his attention back to her. Instead of moving over, he remains standing right where he is, reveling in her scent flooding his nostrils and in the warmth she radiates.
She doesn’t step back either after withdrawing her hand. Instead, she stands in front of him, her eyes fixed on his chest, just like she did on the dance floor. 
His heart feels like it’s about to leap from his chest as he puts out his hand to skim along her arm. And it takes him every spark of self-control he can muster not to kiss her right away as her eyes flutter shut and she shivers ever-so-slightly at his touch. His hand lingers on her elbow, and as he inches a little closer…
“Sy!” 
Her voice is just a whisper, but the need… The need in that one word makes him press his lips to hers. And there goes his self-control! 
Her lips are everything they look like, everything they promised. Warm and smooth and soft, and he savors the way they feel gliding along his. For a second. Or two. Or three. Until his tongue sweeps over her bottom lip. And God, the taste of her! So sweet. So delicious. Just like her gasp as he lets her feel his teeth. And she opens up for him in a heartbeat, letting him in, inviting him in. Capturing him as he plunges into her mouth, and she kisses him back with the same pure need rushing through his veins. 
Yet, her need and his don’t neutralize each other. Instead, they pile up. Multiply. Escalate. And another gasp leaves her lips as he backs her up against the wall a little harder than he had intended. Yet, she wraps her arms around him, her hand on his shoulder, on his neck, pulling him closer. 
Fuck! is all he can think. Fuck, this is good! 
He greedily swallows the little husky moan falling from her mouth. And his teeth sink into the supple flesh of her bottom lip, nibbling gently, then harder as she tilts her head back while the rest of her body writhes toward him. His lips slide along her jaw while his hands slide down her body, to her waist, to her butt. And he groans against her neck as he grabs her ass with both hands. Her fuckin’ phenomenal ass, to be exact, molding perfectly into his palms. And her hips gyrate, slowly, languidly, rubbing and pressing against him, against the bulge in his pants. 
“Goddammit, sugar!” he groans, burying his face in the crook of her neck as his body picks up her movements as if by itself. 
They move in unison, like a sensual dance of their own, making him feel like he’s already about to lose his mind, and they haven’t even undressed yet. And then, all he can think about is seeing her bare skin, to feel her, taste her. And fuck her. Cause that’s what he’s here for, right?
He somehow manages to tear his mouth away from her neck as his hand slides upwards, to her cleavage, to the swell of her tits. He’s more than pleased to see her chest heaving with hasty breaths as he purposefully strips off her dress and her bra. But everything comes to an abrupt halt once her clothes are on the floor and she stands in front of him in her panties - black and lacy and a little see-through like her bra, and the only piece of clothing left. 
I knew it! 
She’s nothing less than stunning, and he fuckin’ knew it. Knew it as he perved on her in that wet tanktop last night. Knew it as he stroked his throbbing cock afterward. Knew it ever since he laid eyes on her tonight.  
“What did you know?”
Fuck. 
“I said that aloud, hm?” he croaks, raising his gaze to meet hers. 
“That you did, "she chuckles. "So…?” 
It doesn’t escape him that, in defiance of her smirk, there’s a touch of tension in her muscles, a touch of insecurity in her gaze. 
“I knew you’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he mumbles. 
And he feasts on her smile and on her silent gasp of relief. And on the way her body gently writhes at his words. 
Aww, you like bein' praised, don’tchu?
The movement draws his gaze lower. And his hands follow. Down to her tits. Soft mounds and delicate areolas and pebbled nipples, begging for his touch. 
“Just look atchu, sugar!” he drawls as he takes a bud between his fingers, clamping down while he carefully watches her reaction. Her hiss, her moan, her hips jerking forward. How her teeth dig into her bottom lip and how her eyelids flutter. 
More! is all he can think after that, he wants more. Give more, take more. And he won’t stop before he doesn’t get what he wants. 
He kisses his way down her body, lingering on her tits, coaxing more moans from her as he alternates between those pretty nipples, teasing them with his beard and his tongue, sucking them into his mouth, more firm than gentle, spurred by her response.
Then, his lips wander down her belly, feeling the speed-up pulsing of blood underneath her skin, brushing the faint scars of an appendectomy, lingering on the hem of her panties. As he peels the piece of fabric off her body, he can’t help but notice that the crotch is all soaked, her aroma reaching his nostrils. Her scent is beyond compare, making his cock throb hard in his pants. 
His first impulse is to press his face between her legs and go to town. And that’s exactly what he would have done if it weren’t for her hand running over his head. It’s a gentle touch, and it draws his gaze upward. 
Kenzie’s beautiful eyes rest on his face. They seem dark in the dim light. Like two dark pools. As deep as the sea. How fuckin’ poetic, Syverson! 
Her expression, however, is hard to read. It’s too churning, too volatile, for him to put it in a nutshell. And maybe he doesn’t even need to name it. As long as he knows…
“You okay, sugar?” he mumbles, gently squeezing her hips. 
“Yeah. I’m… It’s been… a while, you know?” she breathes. 
“I see,” he mumbles, planting a kiss on her belly. Beneath her bellybutton. “Butchu don't need to be nervous. Not with me. Just relax and enjoy yourself.” Another kiss. Lower this time. And another one. “And let me know if it’s too much. Or too overwhelming,” he can’t help but add, smirking against her skin. 
And her abs twitch under his lips as she gives a quiet laugh. 
“Oh, such beautiful words,” she drawls, brushing her fingertips along his cheek. “Yet nothing but words.”
Just you wait, sugar! Just you wait!
He allows himself to laugh along with her for the length of a heartbeat. And then, he grabs her leg and throws it over his shoulder. So forceful she almost loses her balance, making her cling to him, seeking support. As his teeth dig into the soft inside of her thigh, her startled hiss morphs into a squeak. And then, he smashes his mouth on her exposed pussy.
It’s more of an attack than a caress at first; his tongue and his digits coarse on her flesh. But it doesn’t stay coarse for long. As soon as her taste floods his mouth and her moans fill his ears, and her hand continues to brush over his head, so sweet and gentle he’s tempted to lean into her touch and purr like a cat, he knows that this is way too good, her peach way too sweet, not to be savored to the fullest. 
And his groans vibrate against her dripping sex as her hips begin to roll and jerk, careful at first, then languid, then increasingly desperate as he keeps her teetering on the edge for a while, almost there, skillfully dragging her back and forth, and she stammers his name along with oh fucks and oh gods. 
See, not only words!
The sound of her voice, the sight of her body twitching and trembling as she cums on his tongue, seems like the most beautiful thing to him. And he holds her tight as she rides out her high. Wave after wave and shudder after shudder. All the way til the end, where her movements still and tension noticeably drops from her body and her limbs. 
“Oh my god,” she pants afterward, still all flustered, all absorbed, as she makes a weak attempt to lift her leg off his shoulder. 
As he grabs her leg, he can feel her muscles quiver and wobble uncontrollably, and she would have fallen over if he hadn’t steadied her in the nick of time.
“Sorry,” she mutters after regaining her balance. 
Her sheepish smile and the way she brushes a stray strand of hair from her forehead make his heart skip a beat. 
“C’mere, sugar!” he mumbles as he stands up to pull her into his arms.
And she snuggles into his embrace, her heartbeat thundering against his chest, and he almost forgets that his cock is painfully hard and everything in him is screaming for release. 
"I gotchu," he mumbles into her hair. And "I gotchu," he mumbles against her lips searching for his. 
He can still taste her honey on his tongue, and he knows she, too, can taste herself in their kiss. The longing sigh falling from her lips makes him recollect the situation in his pants, and the wave of lust crashing down on him takes his breath away. Just to break free with an unrestrained groan a moment later. 
Kenzie’s response is a quiet moan, and the way her hands impatiently tug at his t-shirt and unbuckle his belt does nothing to make it better. 
“Insatiable, are we?” he drawls as he helps her strip off his t-shirt and jeans. 
“Says the guy with the tent in his pants,” she retorts with a smirk and a telling glance at the bulge in his boxers. 
“That’s all yer fault, sugar. And that’s why yer gonna do somethin’ about it.” He takes her hand, guiding her to the bed. “C’mere. We don’t wantchu to fall over, do we?” he can’t help but tease her. 
She laughs, muttering something about a big-talkin' man as she climbs onto the bed, crawling toward the headboard. The view of her divine body waiting for him on the immaculate white sheets makes his mouth go dry. And he shucks off his boxers in a hurry, more than pleased to notice her glance and her gasp as his cock springs free. He probably fails to suppress the smirk tugging at his lips, too, well aware he’s definitely not a disappointment in the dick department.  
“What do you want me to do about that matter?” she breathes, involuntarily chewing on her bottom lip as she watches him stroll over and sit beside her. 
He just stares into her eyes, dark and shining with anticipation and lust, and at that goddamn tempting mouth of hers, where his thumb traces her lips. 
Her lips are slightly parted and swollen from his kisses, and they feel amazing. There's no doubt they’d feel even better wrapped around his cock, and he was thinking about fucking her soft, hot mouth more than just a few times up to that point. But then, he really wants to kiss for a whole nother while and he wants to continue to kiss her while he's buried deep inside her heat; her little pussy squeezing him tightly.  
"I wantchu to sit on my cock," he says right before he captures her lips once more in a greedy kiss. 
And he swallows her moan as he lies down on his back, pulling her with him until she sits enthroned on his lap, without breaking the kiss. 
At some point, she withdraws to sit up, letting her gaze wander over his body. Her smirk, her expression, is admiring, and so is her touch as she runs her hands over his torso, gently raking her nails through the dust of hair on his chest. As she brushes her finger over his pierced nipple, she fastens her eyes on his face, smiling as he inhales sharply. Her smile turns into a smirk as she leans in to kiss and lick and flick the stud with her tongue, making his cock twitch violently. 
“Goddammit,” he groans quietly.
Needless to say that Kenzie’s expression is pitiless, rather like mischief incarnate, and she tortures him a little further. With her mouth roaming his skin and her hand wrapped around his rock-hard cock, dispelling his ability to think straight to some hidden corner in the back of his mind. 
“Stop teasin’ me, devilkin!” he growls, and the firm smack he lands on her ass echoes from the walls, same as her yelp. And her moan. God-fuckin’-dammit! “Or just keep goin’ if ya want more of that!” 
Of course, she continues to stroke him, her look daring him to slap her again. And she downright welcomes the next two blows, sticking her ass out to him. 
“More, huh?”
"Yes," she breathes, "more, please!" 
"Not until ya slide that pretty lil' pussy onto my cock, devilkin!" he grins wolfishly, baring his teeth like a predator indeed. 
Fuck, he really likes that pet name for her. And he likes the game they're playing. 
Kenzie leans down to plant a kiss on his lips, confusingly tender, before reaching for a black bag on the bedside table to pull out a condom and a bottle of lube. 
He would have loved to know what else is in that bag. So many possibilities, and just thinking about them makes him grin like a shithead. 
However, her brows furrow ever-so-slightly at the sight of his grin. 
“You didn’t really think I'd let you get your dick wet without wearing a raincoat, did you?” she remarks as she rips the foil open. 
He shakes his head. 
"That was not why I was smilin’, sugar," he reassures her, cupping her cheek. 
"Good!" she just mumbles, turning her head to press a kiss to his hand before she puts the condom on his cock. Under his searing gaze.  
He gives a strangled grunt, throwing back his head as she lines him up at her entrance, sinking down on him. It doesn’t escape him that she goes slowly, gasping and whimpering as she takes him inch by inch, squeezing her eyes shut as he bottoms out inside her. 
“You okay?” he mumbles, cradling her cheek in his hand as she pauses for a moment, impaled on his cock. 
“Yes,” she whispers, opening her eyes. “Like I said, it’s been a while. And you’re… umm a bit big.”
“Take your time, sugar,” he encourages her, flicking her pebbled nipples with his fingers, ghosting her swollen clit, and his words turn into a groan as her pussy clenches around him. 
“I can’t… I need…,” she stammers. And then, she begins to move. 
Sy’s hands rest on her hips, his thumbs brushing over her skin. He holds her, encourages her, praises her as she rolls her hips. With flowing movements. Languid and voluptuous, somehow reminding him of honey. With her hair and her tits swaying gently with her every move. With her wet, hot pussy squeezing his cock. And her moans and whimpering drifting through the room. 
His hips have long begun to jerk upward, returning her movements, and a string of curses tumbles from his mouth while his fingers dig into her soft skin, more and more firmly as he tries to hang on.  
“Relax,” she whispers at some point, “just relax and enjoy yourself!” 
Her words are the same he said to her earlier. And the cheeky grin playing on her lips… He doesn’t have time to think about it. Not now.
The sound escaping his mouth is more of a growl, unrestrained and feral. So are the smacks he lands on her ass. So are her moans. And so is the fuck me she stammers over and over again.
He clutches her hips, frantically moving her on his cock like she was nothing but a fuckdoll. Yet, there’s no doubt she eagerly welcomes everything he gives her, and she returns it with everything she has. 
All of that is more than he can take - her moans and how her tits bounce and her eyes roll back, and the sensation of her tight, hot pussy around his cock. They spiral into the sky together, and his high makes him see stars, white-hot against the darkness. They take his breath away, burning up as he thrusts into her, shaky and forceful, carrying her away with him. And her pussy clenches and flutters around his cock, making her body writhe and tremble in the most beautiful way. 
Afterward, she sinks down on him, collapses on him, snuggling closer. She presses her face into the crook of his neck, and he engulfs her in his arms, crushing her against his chest. And his chest heaves as he noses her hair, slowly breathing in her scent. 
“Sweet devilkin,” he whispers, brushing his lips along her temple. 
She slowly raises her head to look at him, so fuckin’ adorable, all spent and in her post-coital bliss, and he can feel her tender smile right in his chest. 
Bloody hell, what is wrong with him?!
A fuck isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s supposed to feel like the one yesterday, wham bam, thank you, ma’am, and no strings attached. But it’s most certainly not supposed to feel like this. Like a barb piercing into his heart. 
Run, ol’ boy! his inner voice yells at him. This is gonna be nothin' but trouble. Run as fast and as far as you can, and don’t look back! 
He pulls Kenzie close, even closer than before, sighing into her mouth when his lips find hers instinctively. Both of them melt into this embrace and into this kiss that feels so far from wrong.
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martha-oi · 4 months
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shellyshellshell · 7 months
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I Can Fix That: Part Thirteen
Attn: Eeeh! Okay so this one has me excited! I hope y’all enjoy it!
Word Count: 2,023
Pairing: Carpenter Sy x Neighbor Reader
Summary: Its your and Sy’s anniversary 🥰
Warnings: 18+, sex/shower sex (p in v)
Previous Part:
Part Twelve
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A few more months past, your birthday came and went, and before you knew it you’d been in Texas an entire year. Time seemed like it had passed so quickly. 
One Friday Sy came in with a surprise for you. “What you got there?,” you asked. “It’s a gift certificate for a spa day. I thought tomorrow morning you and Janie could go have a girl’s day while I get everything together for our anniversary,” he told you. “Sy you didn’t have to do that,” you said, taking his face in your hands. “You know I love spoilin’ my baby,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. “Thank you,” you said with a kiss. “You’re welcome darlin’,” he replied, kissing you again. 
The next morning Janie came and picked you up. “Hey girl!,” she said excitedly. “Hey!,” you said as you leaned over the console and gave her a hug. “Oh I am so ready for this! I’m glad Sy set this up,” she squealed. “You of all people, definitely deserve it. I’m glad you could come with me,” you told her. “Well first, thank you so much, and second me too!,” she replied. 
You got to the spa and realized Sy had really gone all out, facials, mani/pedis, massages and even a trim and styling. The two of you were super relaxed by time you went to lunch. “Oh I’ve got to take you shopping when we leave here,” Janie told you. Sy wanted me to help you pick a dress,” she smiled. “Alrighty then,” you replied. You two chit chatted a bit more before heading to some clothing shops. 
“Oh my God, I think I found it,” she said after you’d tried on several dresses. She held up this white v-neck sundress. It was pretty and would show off your cleavage nicely for Sy. “Okay, let me try it out,” you said taking it from her. When you came out she gasped. “That’s it! Now we need some sandals,” she said. You kept the dress on after paying for it and headed to the shoe store next door, and found the cutest pair of sparkly sandals. 
By time you two got done it was nearly five o’clock. “You have any idea what he’s doing today?,” you asked her on the ride home. “If I did I wouldn’t tell you,” she smirked. “I see how it is,” you teased. “You’re gonna like it just know that,” she commented. “Okay,” you nodded. Finally you were home. She quickly hugged you tightly before all but pushing you out of the car. “We’ll have to do this again sometime, yeah?,” she asked before she pulled off. “Definitely!,” you replied before waving her goodbye. 
When you went inside you looked for Sy and when you found him you weren’t expecting what you saw. There he stood in the middle of the living room with rose petals in the shape of a heart around him. “What’s… this?,” you asked. “Hopefully darlin’…,” he said before getting down on one knee and pulling out a ring box, “it’s you agreeing to become my wife.” 
You gasped as tears quickly began to fill your eyes. “Sy,” you whispered. “Come here,” he said holding out his hand. You took it and he began talking again. “Darlin’, I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you, and I’ll never forget the mornin’ you agreed to let me love you. It was the best day of my life. I’ve decided now I just can’t be without you, so please… please say you’ll marry me?,” he said as his big blue eyes looked up at you. 
“Yes,” you sobbed. “Yeah?,” he questioned. You nodded as he rose from the floor. He picked you up about the middle and spun you around before giving you a kiss. “This is yours,” he said as he slid the beautiful diamond ring onto your finger. “Sy you shouldn’t have,” you said between sobs. “You deserve it and so much more baby,” he told you before pulling you close and kissing you breathless. 
He lifted you off the floor and took you to the bedroom. He made love to you for hours, the thought of you becoming his wife making him absolutely filled with love and wanting to give all that love to you. 
It was almost midnight and both your bodies were nearly spent. Sy was holding you close as he continued lazily thrusting into you. He had one arm wrapped beneath you as the other gripped at your hip. His lips moved languidly against yours as he whimpered. You pulled him back gently, holding him there so you could look into his eyes. “I love you,” you breathed. “I love you too baby,” he said before kissing you again. 
He ran his hand up your body to hold your face as you came one last time, your orgasm sending him over the edge once more. He groaned as he deeply thrusted into you a few more times. He laid beside you and held you tightly. He smiled softly as he looked at you before he started laughing. “What’s funny?,” you said with a chuckle. “I was gonna take you out for supper,” he said shaking his head. “Well, you can take me tomorrow,” you told him before giving him a kiss. “Yes ma’am,” replied as he ran his hand up and down your thigh. 
“I can’t believe you’re gonna be my wife. I’m so lucky,” he told you. “And you’re gonna be my husband,” you said giddily. “You like that?,” he asked with a smile. “I definitely do,” you replied. “When do you wanna have the wedding darlin’?,” he asked. “I don’t care if we go to the courthouse tomorrow Sy,” you told him. “Uh uh. We’re having a wedding. I wanna see you walking down the aisle. I want the dress, the reception with you lookin’ so beautiful just for me baby. No courthouse,” he said. “Alright,” you said as you touched his face softly. 
“When do you want it to be?,” you asked. “As soon as possible within reason,” he replied. “Well I guess we’ll have to start planning,” you smiled. “Alright then little darlin’. Right now all I wanna do is sleep, even though I feel like I could make love to you again if I really tired,” he said, making you laugh. “There’s always tomorrow baby,” you told him with a kiss. “Well be expecting it,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “Lookin’ forward to it, handsome,” you told him. He kissed you softly before situating you so that he could cuddle up behind you. 
“Night baby,” he mumbled into your hair. “Goodnight Sy,” you replied. 
The next morning you woke up with Sy still tightly wrapped around you. You hummed in contentment before turning to kiss all over his face. “Mmm. Mornin’ baby,” he said sleepily as he pulled you closer. He rested his head on your bare chest before dozing off again. You laughed softly as you ran your hand over top the short hairs on his head. He slept awhile longer before squeezing you tightly. 
He kissed you softly before pulling you out of the bed with him. “Where we going?,” you asked as he stood up with you in his arms. “Shower darlin’,” he replied. You could feel him hardening between your legs. He cut the shower on before stepping in. He wasted no time in getting the two of you wet before turning around and slipping into you. 
“I love takin’ you like this baby,” he murmured as he began to thrust in and out of you. “Got you all wrapped around me while I have my way with you. Your soft body feelin’ so good against mine. The way those sweet little hands grip at my back drive me crazy,” he said before kissing you hungrily. He picked up the pace, making you moan against his lips. “Oh yeah, that’s it darlin’,” he said as he ran his lips down your throat. 
“Oh I love you so much baby,” he gasped. “I love you Sy, so, so much,” you replied. “I still can’t believe you’re mine darlin’,” he said while holding tightly to you. “I’m all yours Sy and I always will be,” you panted. You could feel your arousal building. You could feel so much love coming from Sy and coursing right through you, it was making you emotional. You held Sy’s face in your hands as he rutted into you. 
You felt your eyes fluttering close as your orgasm rapidly approached. “Look at me baby. I wanna see,” he whispered. You looked at him in the eyes as you came for him, breathy moans escaping your lips. “Mmm. How are you so perfect sweetheart?,” he said before kissing you again. He ran his tongue across your lips, you opening yours immediately, allowing him access. He groaned into your mouth as his tongue massaged against yours. 
“Gonna come,” he whined. “Please,” you begged. He kissed you again before breathing heavily through his nose while he came. He set you on your feet and the two of you cleaned each other up then got ready for the day. 
“How do you feel about a breakfast date instead of supper baby? I’m starvin’ and there ain’t shit to eat in this house,” he said as he closed the fridge. “Sounds good to me. Then we can get groceries after,” you said before grabbing your shopping list. 
You two ate at a local diner. Sy holding tightly to you in the booth as always. “I like this little dress darlin’,” he said has his hands skimmed at the edge of the fabric that met your thighs. “It’s just a sundress that I had in the back of the closet Sy,” you laughed. “I know. We need to buy you some more of these,” he told you as he kneaded your thigh. “Behave,” you said as you put your forehead against his. “It’s hard to. You always look so good and I’m always wantin’ you baby,” he replied. You kissed him softly before your food was brought to the table. 
“So I was thinkin’ we could have the wedding at Mama and Daddy’s church,” he said. “That’s fine with me. Just tell me when and where. I’ll be the one in the dress,” you said, making him smile. “I was thinkin’ of asking Aunt Alice and Uncle Kurt if they’d be using their vacation home soon after,” you said. “For what baby?,” he asked. “For our honeymoon of course. It’s on a private island but still close enough to a town if you wanted or needed something it’s a short boat ride,” you told him. 
His eyes darkened. “You mean I can have you all to myself out on a private island? For what? A week?,” he asked. “As long as you want baby,” you said sultrily. “You gonna pack some bikinis to go swimming in?,” he asked excitedly. “Mmhmm. I’d thought about going lingerie shopping beforehand as well,” you told him. “Shit,” he breathed. 
“I’ve gotta tell my parents we’re engaged first though then get everything in order”, you said. “They know,” he admitted. “What?,” you asked surprisedly. “Well I asked them if it was okay. Plus I needed to ask your mama what size ring you wore baby,” he said. “That makes sense,” you replied. “I’m sure your mama is on the edge of her seat,” he laughed. “I bet,” you laughed. “Your dad was pretty certain you’d say yes. Told me he’d have a problem with you if you didn’t,” he chuckled. “Well damn,” you blurted, making Sy laugh fully now. 
“We’ll have to call her when we get home and your parents,” you said. “Yeah I’m sure they’re waitin’ to hear from us too,” he replied. “So everyone but me knew huh?,” you teased. “That’s how it’s supposed to be baby,” he laughed. “I know. I’m just picking,” you replied. 
He looked at you softly before leaning in to kiss you. “I can’t wait until you’re my wife,” he said lovingly. “Me either,” you replied. 
Part Fourteen
Taglist:
@mrsevans90, @sofiebstar, @kingliam2019, @ylva-syverson, @foxyjwls007, @identity2212, @summersong69, @bascmve01, @thewhowhatwherewhenuniverse, @drewharrisonwriter, @noirecatt, @duckling-mayie, @sweetbearcolorgarden, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @beck07990, @everything-but-the-not-natural, @hannah9921, @pandaxnienke
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sillyrabbit81 · 10 months
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Fuse
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Prompt: Sleepy & Lazy, Daddy Kink from @myaimlessuniverse (x) Thank you so much for sending the prompt in. Sorry its taken so long.
Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader
Word Count: Approx. 600
Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, praise kink, probably some dd/lg vibes (I don't know! maybe!), p in v sex, Sy POV
Authors Note: Hi... Been a while... Probably not what you expected, but I swear I'm working on the Brotherhood, but I also have quite a few of these left so I thought I'd knock one out as a warm up for the smut I'm trying to write in the Brotherhood (the Brotherhood won't have daddy kink in it fyi) I'm not feeling Daddy kink like I used to and so I tried to write this a little different from what I had done before. Fingers crossed! As always I need to thank my amazing mate and reader @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated. I also need to thank @augustsprincess for her reading and suggestions.
It was edited by me, on the fly, there will be errors
Dividers by me.
Masterlist
Celebration Masterlist
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Sy tightens his jaw and he breathes out a ragged curse through his teeth as he slips past your slick, velvet folds and into your silken heat. He watches, enthralled by the utterly carnal vision of himself disappearing inside your impossibly tight core.
“Stop,” you gasp and he peers up at you perched precariously above him. 
Your thighs tremble beneath his hands and it takes everything he has to stop himself from grabbing your hips and sliding your blossoming core all the way down his cock.
“You’re doing so well, babygirl,” he says, dropping his gaze back to the explicit view between your legs. 
You’ve only taken the tip of him inside yourself and already he feels that tingle brewing in the base of his spine. He’s waited so long for you, longer than he ever thought he’d wait for anyone and he could barely stand it.
“Just a little more, I know you can do it.”
“Daddy,” you whimper. “You’re too big.”
He groans as sweat breaks out over his forehead. “Fuck, baby. You’re killin’ me here.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say, in a voice that quivers as much as your pouty bottom lip.
Sy’s heart breaks and he sits up drawing you to his chest. “Hush. You did so good for me baby. Daddy’s proud of you for tryin’.” 
With the tip of his cock still trapped within your snug pussy, he rocks you slowly, murmuring his sweet praise in your ear as he strokes your hair. His thumb caresses your cheek and he smiles when he feels your soft lips against his pad. His cock pulses inside of you as your plush tongue curls around him and you begin to suck. It doesn’t take long for him to feel your quivering body relax against him. He closes his eyes, content as he feels you hum happily within his arms.
He doesn’t really notice at first, he thinks the soft warmth enveloping his cock must be his imagination. Then he hears you moan.
“Babygirl?” he murmurs, softly.
“Hmm?”
He looks at your pretty head resting on his shoulder. You look almost asleep, your eyes seem to have trouble focussing and you’re still sucking hard on his thumb. But then you sigh and nuzzle into his neck while you roll your hips and there’s no doubt about it, you’re slowly sinking lower onto his cock.
“That’s my girl,” he growls into your ear. “That my good fuckin’ girl.”
Sy clenches his jaw to keep himself in check, each moment you rock your hips and take more of him into you is the most exquisite torture he’s ever had. 
“Am I doing good, Daddy?” you ask, hesitantly, dropping his thumb from your mouth.
He’s trembling as much as you were earlier. He has no idea how you can’t see how much you’re affecting him, that you can’t see that in this moment he’d give you everything, anything, just for a little bit more of your sweet pussy.
“So good baby,” he groans. “But don’t stop, Daddy needs more.”
He has to lay down, he has to see his thickness stretch you open. He holds your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he falls back to the bed. His mouth falls open as he watches the last of his cock vanish and your bodies completely fuse. 
He can’t hold it back, that orgasm that threatened from the start tore through his spine and his hips bucked up from the mattress. His eyes force themselves shut as hot pulses surge through him and even though he can’t see anymore, the image of your bodies finally together is burned into his psyche.
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deandoesthingstome · 5 months
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Sand Trap
Pairing: Dog Trainer!Sy x Reader
Word Count: 901
A/N: I had a burst of inspiration and the main character surprised me considering where my loyalties have been lately. There are literally no references to Aika or Ginger in this little fever dream, but it definitely belongs to my Dog Trainer!Sy universe.
Warnings: This is Sy, so I feel like I have to warn for NO f oral; oral m receiving, fingering, anal. Please let me know if I missed anything for you.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Captain Syverson or Sand Castle, but I do own these words, so please do not copy or repost as your own. Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are amazing.
"What's the smile for?"
"I was just imagining the most amazing vacation. A secluded beach bungalow complete with an outdoor shower and 100% privacy so that after a swim in the ocean I can peel off my swimsuit as I walk to rinse off.
The warm rays of the sun shine down on my upturned face and I close my eyes and tilt my head back into the water to wash my hair free of the salt for a short time.
When I open my eyes, you're there. Naked and gazing with lust, lazily stroking your cock while you watch me get clean. Again, for a short time.
You flash a wicked grin and wait for me to start begging with my eyes and bit lip and deep breaths and when you nod I turn off the water and step forward, falling to my knees in the soft sand. I absolutely cannot wait to put my mouth around you and you are so kind to let me do so.
It feels like hours that we spend under that palm tree while I lick and suck and stroke and squeeze you to climax and when I'm done swallowing you down you lift me up. We step back in the shower to rinse off together one more time before you carry me inside, legs wrapped around your waist and mouths locked in passion.
I hate when you drop me to the cool, crisp white sheets because your hands are no longer attached to my ass, fingers molded around my cheeks like that's the only thing they were made for. But then you show me what else your fingers were made for and when I'm screaming your name while I come all over them you just grin down at me and call me darlin' and tell me what a good girl I am.
And I melt for that, you fuckin' know I do. And it's a little bit sneaky 'cause you're gonna use it to your advantage. 'Cause you know as soon as I'm your good girl I can't say no to anything and that anything is your wet, slippery fingers dragging down and smearing my own slick all around my puckered hole, that is now just pulsing for you, jealous of all the attention my pussy just got.
You don't even kiss my mouth when you slide a finger in because you wanna watch it drop open bit by bit and see my pupils dilate and catch the slow rise of my chest as my breathing gets shallower while I relax into it and when you gather the saliva in your mouth and drip it with precision right onto the space where your finger slips in and out so you can use it to lubricate the way for another finger to join I absolutely cannot stop myself from grabbing the backs of my thighs so I can spread myself wider for you.
It's only when I actually beg, with my words, that you withdraw your fingers and find the real lube and kneel onto the bed between my legs so you can feed first the tip, then the head, and finally your whole fucking cock right into my ass.
You start slow and easy, in and out, working me open, making sure to add a little more lube as you go. And you don't even care that I can't hold myself up to watch, that I'm completely reclined while you loosen me up because you know once you get going for good I'll be holding onto your shoulders for dear life and seeking out your mouth to kiss and capture your lips between mine because it's the only thing I can do to keep from screaming, crying out your name and begging for you to make me come."
"Hmmm... kinda like this?" Sy asks, as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck to help hold your head up so he can lick into the space and swallow your pants, your huffs, your squeals of delight.
"Exactly like that, fuck Sy, so good," you somehow have the energy to gasp out.
His movements are precise up until the point they no longer are and you can feel he's close, feel he's ready to let go and you beg, beg for his touch. He obliges, easing your head back to the mattress so he can unwrap his hand and shift those fingers to your clit. How he has the coordination to flick and rub and tap that exact spot while he's still pumping away and about to release you'll never know, but you're also never gonna complain about the way it feels like the stars are exploding behind your eyes and in your cunt while he shoots his load deep in your ass. Every inch of you is left clenching for him as he eases out.
"Fuck, Sugar. You can tell me about that fantasy again anytime you want me to fuck your ass," he drawls while he runs a warm, wet cloth between your cheeks, his lips smoothing along your collarbone and still heaving chest.
"But I gotta tell ya," he smirks as he tosses the towel to the laundry basket in the corner of the room, "you really don't wanna be kneeling in that sand naked. Trust me when I say it gets everywhere you don't want it to be."
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viking-raider · 4 months
Text
Thankful
Summary: For Thanksgiving, you decide to take part of a military support group event and host a Veteran, having them over for dinner. Forming a lasting bond with a certain Captain.
Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader
Word Count: 3.8k
Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Angst, Mention of Loss of Family Member, Mourning, Cold Mother, Embarrassed!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Use, Fluff, Friendly Bets, Southern Charm
Inspiration: It’s for Thanksgiving. 🍗
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS! My Syverson's first name is Austin.
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You had received the message from one of the countless Military support groups you were a part of about the Sponsoring a Veteran for Thanksgiving event, and if you were interested in participating. You had hesitated for a couple days, before finally caving. You didn't have much family left of your own, just your mother. Since your father passed, when you were a kid and your only sibling, a brother, had been killed in the line of duty. Which was why you were a member of the support groups, looking to keep a closeness to him, and find some sort of peace with his death.
“All right.” The lead organizer, retired Lieutenant Sarah Timmans, sighed, looking over her clipboard at the list of names of all the Veterans that had been signed up for the event. “Your mother knows you're hosting a Vet, right?” She asked, cocking a brow at you, knowing how sensitive and touchy your mother was still about being around anything directly Military.
“I told her, I was bringing a friend over.” You answered, biting your lip nervously, knowing your mother's own mood swings on the subject.
“Girl, she's going to flip out on you.” Sarah said, shaking her head, eyes bulging. “Maybe, you should just do something one-on-one with them?” She suggested, trying to bypass a disaster.
“She's expecting us, and I'll get an earful, if I skip another family gathering.”
Sarah snorted at you, smirking. “It's your KP!” She teased, going down the list to find your name and who you'd been assigned. “So, your Vet is Captain Austin Syverson. He just retired seven months ago after nineteen years in the service of the U.S Army. Special Forces.” She informed you, looking up from the clipboard to scan the crowded room for a moment.
“Ah, there he is!” She smiled, motioning behind you.
Turning around and following her gaze, you were surprised for a moment, standing on the other side of the room, in a small cluster of other Vets, was a tall, thickly muscular guy, with a shaved head and well groomed beard. Everything about him exuded authority, self-confidence and calm. He was so damn handsome in his pair of dark wash blue jeans, brown cowboy boots and fleshly ironed, black dress shirt that was tucked in, showing off his belt buckle. Your insides tingled as you stared at him, throat going dry.
“Damn, that's a Texas boy.” You mumbled under your breath.
“Sure is.” Sarah agreed, checking him out as well. “You should go introduce yourself, before he thinks you stood him up.” She added, a hint of encouragement in her voice.
“God, you're right.” You started, frightened he just might, then weaved through the crowd towards him, pausing for a moment, until he noticed you. “Hi there.” You beamed up at him, your knees like a nervous jelly.
“Ma'am.” Syverson greeted you back with a Southern drawl, tipping his head forward.
“I'm your host, Captain Syverson.” You informed him, introducing yourself.
“Oh.” He replied, giving you a proper look over, a smile pulling over his lips as he took your lovely figure in the white, knee-length dress covered in delicate yellow flowers, paired with black flats. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” He said, his bright blue eyes meeting yours once more. “You can just call me, Sy.”
“Nice to meet you as well, Sy.” You answered, cordially extending your hand.
Smirking broader, Sy gently took your hand in his, shaking it. “I'm grateful that you've allowed me impose myself on you and your family's holiday.”
“Oh, it's quite all right.” You waved it off, shrugging your shoulders. “It's really just me and my mom, so nothing major.”
“Well, I'm just a Captain, so it'll literally be nothing Major.” Sy quipped, making the group around him crackle at the inside joke.
You dropped your head, hiding your amused smile, knowing the two of you were more than likely to get along, if he had that sense of humor. “Fair.” You nodded, lifting your head. “More than fair. Well, we can leave whenever you like.”
Sy turned over his wrist to glance at his watch. “We can go now, if you like.” He replied, twisting to a chair that was behind him and picking up a black, denim Sherpa coat off the back. “I'll see you boys later. Have a good Thanksgiving.” He bid the men, patting a couple on the shoulder, before following you out of the building.
“You can follow me to my place or we can ride together.” You told Sy, standing on the sidewalk with him, chewing on your lip.
“I can follow.” Sy answered, smiling down at you. “My truck's just over there.” He said, motioning over to the big, 2021 Dodge Ram, parked a short distance away.
“Okay. I'm just right there.” You informed him, pointing out your little KIA Niro.
“On your lead then, Major.” Sy quipped, winking at you, before heading off towards his truck.
“Christ,” You huffed, watching after him for a moment, your hand moving up to a necklace around your neck. “He reminds me so much of you, Phelan.” You sighed, then made for your vehicle.
Pulling out of the parking space, your phone started to ring, so you connected the car's Bluetooth. “Mother.” You answered, glancing in your rear-view, to make sure Sy was behind you, before you started out of the parking lot and into the street.
“How much longer are you going to be?” Your mother snapped through the car's speakers.
“I'm just leaving now, mom.” You sighed, pressing your lips together. “I had to find my friend and now we're heading there now. We should be there in about ten or so minutes.”
“Why is he spending Thanksgiving with us? Doesn't he have his own family?” She demanded, clearly pacing the house.
“I'm sure he has a family, mother. But I invited him over to ours and he accepted. So, please, be nice to him. He's a very polite and outstanding person, who doesn't need to be pestered and guilt tripped, or reminded his mother is lucky, that her son is still alive and not in the military and so on.” You hoped to warn and deter her from her usual interaction with the males she came into contact with. “Let's just have a nice dinner, for once.”
“How can we, when your brother isn't here.” She growled, then the line went dead.
“At least, I'm here.” You sighed, deflated by her words. “I should really warn Sy before we get into the house.” You thought, then pushed that unpleasantness aside.
Sy managed to keep behind your car, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. He felt a little nervous about going to a random, pretty young lady's home to have Thanksgiving dinner with her mother. However, he didn't have any other plans for the holiday under his belt, other than staying on the ranch he'd started up on his return home with Aika.
“Idle hands are the devil's workshop.” He commented aloud, following you off the on-ramp.
It would have just been him and his pup, working the horses all day, before making another ten minute meal and sitting in front of his laptop, since he still hadn't gotten around to buying himself a proper tv for the living room. So, he let one of his buddies nag him into signing up for the event. Sy wasn't at all disappointed either.
You were more than easy on his eyes.
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Finally making it outside your place, you got out and met Sy in your driveway, shifting glances between him and the front door.
“Are you all right?” Sy asked, squinting down at you.
“Okay, look.” You blurted out, not looking back at him. “My mom is super touchy about the military.” You started to explain to Sy, giving him an embarrassed glance.
“Why?” He frowned, confused.
Your shoulders slumped slightly and a tired expression washed over your face. “My brother died in Afghanistan six years ago. My mom has taken that to her heart and soul. So anything military tends to set her off.”
“Then, should I even be here?” Sy asked, concerned about causing your mother any distress.
“It's my house and you're my guest.” You told him, bluntly. “I want you here for dinner. It'll be nice to have someone over that might actually engage with me.” You said, heading up the footpath towards the front door. “And not remind me that I'm not my dead, older brother.” You added under your breath, but Sy's sharp ear heard you all the same.
“Mom!” You called out, toeing off your shoes as you stood in the entry with Sy. “We're here.”
“Took long enough.” Her voice echoed back somewhere in the house.
You looked up at Sy. “I'm so sorry.” You mouthed, shaking your head.
“It's all right.” He smiled, his hand touching the back of your arm.
“Do you want something to drink?” You asked, showing him into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. “Got wine, a couple bottles.” You twisted your upper half to peek at an upper shelf. “Looks like she's left my Ardbeg whiskey alone.”
“I wouldn't mind a little whiskey.”
Nodding, you shut the fridge and got down two glasses with the whiskey bottle. “Straight or on the rocks?”
“What are you having?” Sy asked, leaning back against your sink, a twinkle of mischievous curiosity in his eyes.
“The rocks.” You answered, a playful smirk tugging on your lips.
Sy drew a breath in through his nose, pressing his lips together as he nodded. “Impressed.”
“Thank you.” You chuckled, grabbing a couple ice cubes from the freezer and dropped them into your glasses, then poured you and Sy a generous amount of amber liquid. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, ma'am.” Sy tipped his head, taking the glass from you and took a sip. “Damn, that's smooth.”
“Mmm, for a twenty year old bottle, it should be.” You snorted, taking a gulp of yours.
“Twenty years.” Sy choked slightly. “Damn, almost as long as I was in--” He caught himself, eyes shooting to the two kitchen entrances. “Well, you know.”
“Yeah.” You nodded, a little stiff, praying your mother was lurking nearby, and polished off your drink, before moving over to the oven, revealing a nice sized turkey, just starting to turn a golden brown, filling the kitchen with a mouth-watering scent. “I started this about an hour and a half ago, so it should have about another hour or so to go. While it does that, I can show you around.”
“And, if you're as much of a Texan as I think you are, I'll pop the football game on.”
“You don't have to put the game on.” Sy laughed, feeling called out. “We can watch whatever you and your mother want. I'd hate to impose.”
“Captain Austin Syverson, you're not imposing.” You informed him, putting your foot down.
Sy's eyes widened and he gave you a half smirk. “I do love a woman that takes charge. Yes, ma'am, if you say so.”
“Besides, I'd love to see the Chiefs kick the Cowboys ass.” You added, teasingly.
“Oh, you're a traitor to your home state!” Sy gasped, horror on his face.
“Texas isn't my home state.” You giggled at him, then tisked. “Kansas isn't either, to be far.” You snorted, amused by the banter. “But I like Mahomes.”
“What's wrong with Dak Prescott?”
“Nothing! He's a great QB. I'm just a Chiefs girl.”
“I may have to call this Thanksgiving off.” Sy said, draining his whiskey glass and set it on the counter behind him and pushed off the edge. “To eat at the same table as a Chiefs girl, may just be too much for this ol' Texas boy.”
You were worried for a moment that Sy was genuine, and felt terrible for bringing it up, until you finally noticed the look in his eye and relaxed. He had a dry humor and pulled it out on you, catching you good.
“Shoot, you had me there.” You chuckled, breathy.
He winked at you, amusing you more with his cute double blink.
“Well,” You sighed, looking at the kitchen. “This is the kitchen.”
“A very nice kitchen.” Sy echoed, nodding and rubbing a hand over the counter top. “Nice and clean.”
“Thank you, I do my best.” You replied, bowing your head. “Out that way is the dining room, where we'll be having dinner.” You said, motioning to your right, and Sy peeked in, finding a long, glass table already set for three people with nice little autumn decorations as a centerpiece. “Over here, is the living room, where we'll probably be starting our football rivalry.”
You showed him into the living room, just as your mother came downstairs, in nothing but a pair of loose shorts, a tank top and an open bathrobe, a half glass of white wine clutched in her hand. You felt a cold shard of embarrassment go down your back. You had hoped, when you told her you were going to get Sy, she would have dressed into something—anything.
“Mom, this is Sy.” You told her, keeping your voice even. “Sy, this is my mother, Dana.” You introduced them, chewing the inside of your lip to bits.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.” Sy greeted her politely, nodding his head kindly, like nothing was out of place.
She looked Sy over, taking a gulp of her wine. “How do you and my daughter know each other?” She inquired, lifting a brow at him.
You stiffened, you hadn't considered fielding that question from her while Sy was over.
“Work.” Sy said, casually.
“So, she's your accountant?” Dana pressed and showed no sign of easing off.
“I am.” You chimed in, hoping to get her to drop the subject and leave Sy alone.
“That she is.” Sy confirmed, backing you up. “Helps me out with my ranch.” He told Dana, tapping that belt buckle at his waist, bearing the Hook Hill Ranch logo on it.
“Hmm.” Your mother grunted, not sounding convinced. “Why aren't you spending Thanksgiving with your family?” She asked, giving Sy a hard look.
“Mom!” You snapped, horrified.
“It's all right.” He assured you, giving you a soft smile. “I'm an only child. I've never known my father and my mother ran off, when I was ten years old, leaving me to be raised by uncle, her brother. He had a heart attack three years ago, while milkin' his cows. So, it's just me and my dog, Aika, nowadays. Your daughter was kind enough to ask me over to your Thanksgiving dinner, and I accepted.”
“Satisfied?” You asked, annoyed your mother caused Sy to divulge such personal information.
Rolling her eyes, your mother turned in a flare of her bathrobe and headed back upstairs.
“Turkey will be done in an hour!” You called after her, with no reply. “I'm so sorry.” You said, turning back to Sy.
“It's okay.” He said softly, more concerned for you. “Is there anything I can do to help you finish up with dinner?”
“Um,” You tapped your foot. “No, I don't think so. Besides, you're my guest. You should relax.” You told him, waving over to the couch. “I can handle everything.” You assured him, rounding the arm of the couch to swipe the remote of the coffee table and turned the tv on, quickly finding the football game. “Ooh, Cowboys are beating the Chiefs by two points!” You hissed, casting a glance over your shoulder at Sy.
Sy moved to join you, holding your gaze. “I bet you a round of drinks, at a later time, that the Cowboys beat your Chiefs.”
“Are you asking me out on a date, Syverson?” You asked, surprised.
“I am.” He admitted, unashamed.
“Then, you're on.” You grinned, giving him a cocky look. “But, if the Chiefs win, I want to see your ranch.”
“Bold.” Sy smirked, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I'll even cook for you.”
“Sold.” You agreed, extending your hand out to him.
He shook your hand, then sat down on the couch, getting comfortable to watch the game, while you returned to the kitchen. Pausing for a moment, you refilled his whiskey glass and took it out to him, giving him a soft smile as you set the cool glass down on a coaster and went back to prepping dinner. Sy watched you over the back of the couch, moving and bumping about, taking a deep breath and taking all the lovely smells of your hard work wafting towards him and making his belly rumble.
Lord have mercy, she's gorgeous.
“You sweet on my daughter?” Dana's voice came up behind him.
Sy's head swung around to look back at her, seeing she'd finally gotten dressed, now wearing a pair of black leggings and a loose, cream colored jumper, but no shoes or socks. “I just might be.” He answered, meeting her gaze head on. “She's a sweet, generous young lady.”
“Young lady, how old are you?” Dana huffed, dropping down into a recliner at the end of the couch.
“I'm thirty-eight.” Sy replied, with an odd amusement.
Dana looked Sy over, her gray eyes scrutinizing. “At least you're both in your thirties.” She huffed, curling her legs underneath her and glared at the tv.
What a curious woman. Sy blinked, shaking his head at her.
The two of them sat quietly, not speaking or interacting with each other any further. Which didn't bother either Sy or Dana. You peeked in at them from time to time, scurrying out to fill Sy's glass, whenever you noticed it was empty and always asking if he needed or wanted something, before vanishing back into the kitchen or dining room.
You wanted the dinner to be as great as possible for Sy, and your mother.
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“Dinner is ready, everyone!” You declared, coming into the living room, glancing at the football score, discovering the Chiefs had recovered since the last time you'd entered, now ahead by four points.
“Smells delicious.” Sy complimented you, as he and your mother came into the dining room, finding the set table.
The turkey was juicy and golden-brown, slices already carved and on a plate beside it, with sides of stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls and cornbread muffins, yams with marshmallows, peas and asparagus, accompanied with pecan and pumpkin pie. There were two decanters of red and white wine, a bottle of Ardbeg, and a pitcher of iced tea.
“Thank you.” You grinned with shy pride, biting the inside of your lip. “Sit wherever you like and dig in.” You said, motioning to the chairs around the table, before slipping into one.
Sy joined you, winking at you, as he picked up a plate and started helping himself, piling his plate with meat, rolls, yams and cornbread. “Mmm, this is amazing.” He hummed, nodding his head and chewing his mouthful of turkey and mashed potatoes.
You were giddy that Sy was so in love with your cooking, glancing towards your mother, who was at the end of the table. But found she was sipping a glass of red and nibbling on a buttered roll, to your slight dismay. Pushing the feeling away, you fixed your plate and dug in, moaning at how tasty it was.
“So, your team was winning.” Sy commented, giving you a side brow as he continued to eat.
“Yeah, I noticed.” You smirked, feeling bubbly, as you poured yourself some wine. “Looks like we'll be spending some more time together.”
“That it does.” He nodded, feeling your mother's eyes on him. “I'll have to show you the new foal that was born last week.”
A flood of excitement filled you, you loved the thought of seeing a baby horse. “Oh! I bet they're just the cutest thing on the planet!” You gushed, eyes bright with love already. “What did you name it?”
“Oh, I haven't named the little rascal, yet.” Sy laughed, watching you just gush. “Maybe, you could help me come up with a name for her?” He suggested, looking at you over the rim of his whiskey glass.
“Hmm.” You hummed, falling into a meditative state as you brewed over a name for the baby horse.
“So,” Dana cleared her throat, eyes narrowed between you and Sy. “You're a Rancher?”
“Yes, ma'am.” Sy nodded, turning to regard her, nothing by polite respect in his expression.
“How long have you been one?” She questioned, swirling the wine in her glass.
“Ranchin' has been in my family for generations.” Sy replied, not letting her trip him up. “My many great-grandfather came over from Ireland, just after the American Revolution. Then, when the Civil War happened, my family fought and were granted land at the end, for their service. We've been doing it ever since.”
“So, your family fought for the South.” Dana said bluntly, causing you to choke on your food.
“Mother.” You rasped, eyes practically popping out of their sockets.
“No, ma'am.” Sy said coolly. “We fought for the North.” He told her, and left it at that.
“Are you satisfied?” You asked her slowly, eyes still wide and mouth agape.
“No.” She answered, getting up and leaving the room.
“I'm so sorry, Sy.” You stuttered, ashamed of your mother.
“It's all right, love.” He shook his head, wiping his hands on his napkin. “It's not your fault. It's not hers either, really.” He said softly. “She's mourning her son, and doing so takes the form in many ways. That's how your Ma is coping with your brother no longer being on this Earth.” He told you, resting back in his chair and fixing his blue eyes on you. “You're coping by going to support groups and trying to understand the kind people that he was, that he worked with, that he died surrounded by.”
You bit your lip, a lump of emotion strangling you and blurring your eyes; Sy was right. You wanted to be surrounded by those like your brother. It was like still having him there, in a way. You felt the strong, rough warmth of Sy's hand slip into yours, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb over your wrist as the two of you sat there, quiet and surrounded by your Thanksgiving feast.
“You know,” Sy spoke, breaking the silence. “I could actually use an accountant for my ranch.” He said, smirking over at you. “Plus, how about drinks at my place, while you figure out a new name for my foal? Who cares who wins the game.” He chuckled, arching a suggestive brow at you.
“Are you hinting at a sort of date, Syverson?” You asked, playfully thumb warred him.
“It's possible.” Sy laughed, letting you pin his thumb. “Maybe, I'll even cook you Christmas dinner.”
“Oh, I think I'd like that.” You told him, grinning, thankful you'd decided to host him for Thanksgiving.
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