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nikethestatue · 1 year

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The Date

Happy birthday to my sweet bestie @fawnandshadows

I wish you all the very best for your next quarter century. Have a wonderful day and an amazing year ahead.

Preface:

This is a bonus chapter for The Kings' Wife. I've had the idea of a Ruhn and Elain date for a long time, but did not want to include it in the story. It contains some interesting background about Ruhn, but otherwise, it's just indulgent fluff and smut.

Warning: Explicit language and explicit smut (anal sex)

Fenrys Moonbeam was right.

Was it embarrassing? Perhaps. But Ruhn Danaan King was never one to follow prescribed rules. He was never ‘normal’ and wasn’t one to hit all of life’s milestones when he was supposed to have.

He started walking at 10 months, talking before he was two, reading when he was barely five. Early. He was early in everything. He didn’t remember when he began drawing, maybe he was still in the womb, when he began seeing images and colours. He skipped grades, because he was too smart, but then he was held back, because of his behavioural issues.

He kissed a girl when he was six. His girlfriend, Millie Kalinowski. Well, technically, he had two girlfriends when he was six–Millie and Aurora Esposito. An overachiever even then. It was Millie’s birthday: he stole her cupcake, she called him a ‘butthole’ and then he smacked a big juicy one on her cheek. She hit him and ran away, crying.

That was his first foray into romance.

He didn’t kiss anyone else until he was almost fifteen.

He remembered the kiss, because that was also the day when he killed someone for the first time. Not a crime of passion, or uncontrolled rage of a teenager. He, and his brother Azriel, found and tracked the people who had kidnapped Azriel years before, beat him, tortured him, and attempted to rape him. Azriel broke his wrist in order to escape, and succeeded, but he never forgot. The two of them spent years trying to locate the men who held Az prisoner in an abandoned farm in upstate New York. It was an intricate and thorough investigation–the first time they worked so closely together on a task that consumed them. Along the way, they built a network of informants, spies, made connections, found hackers among gamers, and guys who were really, really good with money, and breaking into banks and accounts, or discovering hidden assets and identities. It helped that neither he, nor Azriel, looked like they were fourteen. They were big, brawny and muscular, their balls dropping early and testosterone flooding their growing bodies and making them strong, agile and by then, already six feet tall. They had money, they could pay, and when someone talked back, they had other ways of convincing people to do what they needed.

Ruhn remembered his first kill pretty well–a guy named Bobby, a scrawny, but wiry Irishman, who moved fast, and was an ace with a knife. Ruhn’s first kill wasn’t elegant or cerebral. He beat Bobby to death with a baseball bat. The shower of warm, salty blood is what he remembered the most from that evening. Az slitting another guy’s throat, his grip on the blade so strong, that he almost decapitated him. Together, they killed two more that night–but they were no longer counted as the ‘first kills’.

The murders gave him a high like he’d never felt before and his skin itched from the adrenalin and the memories. He thought that he wouldn’t mind doing that again. He was so jacked up that he wandered the streets until it was late, unable to settle down, unwilling to go home, replaying the murders in his mind. It was awesome! At last, grateful that he had his fake ID in his pocket, he stopped at some dive bar. He wasn’t much of a drinker, and hardly knew how to order a drink properly, but he recalled his father’s bar and the bottles of Jameson’s whiskey on the glass shelves, and figured that he’d order that. He thought that he did it like a pro, but the bartender gave him an assessing look, which told him that he wasn’t fooling anyone. But Ruhn was big and bad, and already sported a tattoo sleeve, and no one in their right mind would want to mess with him over a shot of whiskey.

When he went to take a piss, he was accosted by a girl. A working girl? Maybe. He never found out. A little buzzed from the drinks and the kills, he liked the feeling of her hands on his body, when she slipped her fingers under his t-shirt. She was thin and delicate, and reminded him of Audrey Hepburn. She behaved in a very un-Audrey way however, when she tugged him into the bathroom, dropped the latch on the door and then dropped to her knees in front of him. Well, that was fucking unexpected. Having his dick inside the wet warmth of her mouth was incredible, and when she began to suck, it was borderline sublime. He understood the appeal of blowjobs very, very quickly, watching her pink tongue lave over his shaft, her eyes hooded, her hands grasping his thighs, her face looking like she was truly enjoying it. And when he gripped the back of her head, trying not to be forceful, but kind of failing, though she didn’t seem to mind, the sensation was even better. The sense of control, of utter dominance, the pleasure of thrusting into that willing mouth, the feeling of his cockhead bucking into the back of her throat, the pathetic little noises that she was making–it was unforgettable and unbelievable. It was a shame that he didn’t last as long as he would’ve liked to, but he lasted a decent amount of time for a fourteen year old. Like a good two and a half minutes.

He came in her mouth, but she spit it out discreetly, which he didn’t love so much, but he couldn’t be choosy.

Wiping her lips, she winked at him and then asked a question that murdered his boner completely.

“How old are you, stud?”

God. It was only marginally better than her asking him if it was his first time.

“Old enough,” he grunted in response, and then fished out a hundred dollar bill and slipped it under the strap of her bra. She didn’t argue or anything, but got up and then pecked him on the corner of his mouth, biting on his lip ring and making him hiss.

And that’s how he got his first real kiss.

But Fen was correct–Ruhn’s never been on a date. Ruhn had less than zero interest in dating anyone, and no one really wanted to date him either. The girls, the brave ones, thought that they did, but then, they quickly changed their minds. He wasn’t romantic. He wasn’t kind. He was barely nice. He fucked hard. Without tenderness or words or emotions. At least he always made sure that they came. However, he rarely, if ever gave head, didn’t cuddle, wasn’t interested in staying over or having them sleep over at his apartment at the hotel, and if he was being honest, he wouldn’t date him either. He was kind of an asshole.

As usual, his life didn’t follow any normal patterns. He went from a post-kill blowjob, to a little kiss, and then nothing at all. During his formative years, he only had four girls that he fucked, and tried as he might to build a reputation as a manwhore at his boarding school, he couldn’t. He dominated the scene, he was one of the most feared guys in school, respected, obeyed, admired, but a player, he was not.

His twenties were wild. A whole decade drenched in blood and cum.

Now, he was almost 32 years old.

And Ruhn Danaan King has never been on a date.

The way he saw it, it wasn’t the end of the world, but it was weird. It definitely wasn’t normal.

Azriel’s been engaged to Morrigan. And then he married Elain. Those were pretty serious plays in the dating department.

Fenrys couldn’t stop dating! He dated everyone. He liked them, cherished them, adored them, used them, left them, and moved on to the next one.

Cassian’s been in a couple of semi-long term relationships, and also dated casually. And now, he was after the eldest Archeron sister, though without much success.

Rowan was once married, and then widowed. He was raising his four year old son by himself, and was now seriously involved with a girl named Aelin, and it definitely seemed like things were getting serious between the two of them.

Rhysand’s been with Feyre for almost 3 years now. Yes, he was a wealthy playboy prior to meeting her, but the pretty Bohemian artist enchanted him instantly and all women ceased existing for him.

Ruhn…Well, there was that one time when he took his not-exactly-wife, but kind-of-wife Elain Archeron to Subway. He bought her a sandwich and Fanta. He took her to a museum as well, but truthfully, none of it was planned. Initially, he just wanted to tattoo her, and then he ended up fingering her and after that they went out on a whim. Ruhn was mostly curious about Elain’s knowledge and interest in art, which, to his great relief, was present–she wasn’t an expert, but she was well-versed in popular art and had appreciation for it.

The thing was…well, Ruhn was hopelessly, passionately and irreversibly in love with Elain. He fucking loved his wife. Looking back, he wasn’t even sure when and how it happened. At what point did infatuation and mild obsession turn into love, into adoration, into soul-mating. Or, as Elain said, heart-mating with him.

He didn’t mind sharing. That was the agreement, and it was the healthiest way for the four of them to live and exist in their relationship. They shared Elain and there was enough love in her for all of them, to satisfy them sexually and emotionally. Ruhn wouldn’t have it any other way. However, it didn’t mean that he didn’t want her for himself at times. Just the two of them, doing things as a couple, having a private relationship that was exclusively theirs. To some extent, it was happening between Elain and the men in her life–each one had a marriage with her, which was both public, but also private.

Ruhn, however, figured that he wanted to have a proper date with his girl.

Elain was young and a romantic at heart, and obviously she wanted dates and flowers and all that cheesy shit that Ruhn knew nothing about. There was a reason why she screamed at Fenrys to fuck her ‘romantically’. He was the only one who would. From Ruhn, Elain came to expect rough–marks on her hips, imprints of his teeth on her skin, hair pulling, swollen nipples and aching pussy. She liked the pain, but she was under no illusions that Ruhn would be tender or sweet. And Ruhn was determined to prove her wrong.

He couldn’t ask Fenrys–who would probably know and have a decent recommendation, but would also make it bigger and better for Elain, and would leave Ruhn in the dust. So that was out of the question. Azriel would just steal the idea, hog Elain, and leave Ruhn in the dust. And then, there was Google.

Cassian made it to the office early, as usual. He wanted to stop by Nesta’s office and bring her coffee, but then he thought better of it. Not the coffee part, because he would’ve gotten her that gross green water that she called ‘tea’--but because it seemed to him like Nesta truly moved on and was interested in Eris Vanserra. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to wound his bleeding heart anymore than it’s been sliced open already. Nesta was a bad idea. Always a terrible idea that promised to end badly, and here he was, being smacked in the face by his terrible ideas.

“Oh hey,” Cassian stopped abruptly, seeing his cousin Ruhn sitting in the still-empty room, long legs crossed and propped on the desk. “Why are you here? Is Elain okay?”

Somehow, and he didn’t know how it happened, but Cassian began worrying about Elain. It was like a contagion that was passed down to him and his men from Azriel.

“Yeah, she is good,” Ruhn said lazily, putting his phone away.

“What’s up?” Cassian took a sip of his coffee.

Ruhn was unpredictable and Cassian never knew what would come out of the man’s mouth. Could be something nice. Could be something utterly horrible.

“Do you have Pinterest?”

Yep. Weird.

His brow knitted in confusion, and Cassian asked,

“What?”

“Pinterest. Do you have it?”

“No. I am a man,” he reminded Ruhn slowly, enunciating every word.

Ruhn sighed and nodded, shoulders falling.

“Yeah, I get it. I figured I’d ask.”

“And you thought that I’d be the guy to have a Pinterest account?” Cassian raised his brow at him. “I feel like Fen would be more likely,”

“Maybe,” Ruh agreed with another sigh. “But I can’t ask him.”

“What do you need on Pinterest?” Now his interest piqued and Cassian bit into his blueberry muffin, looking at Ruhn expectantly.

“Ideas…”

“What kind of ideas?”

Ruhn mumbled something unintelligible, but Cassian wasn’t going to give up and pressed him.

“Come on. What?”

“For a date!” Ruhn snapped, his normally dark, placid face suddenly turning kind of red.

“You need ideas for a date?” Cassian was confused. “With whom?”

“Elain!” Ruhn opened his arms, like he was talking to an idiot. “Who else?”

“You are taking Elain on a date? And you need Pinterest?”

“Whatever man, you won’t understand,” Ruhn rose and grunted dejectedly.

“Wait, wait. I am trying to. Let’s think about this.”

Exhaling loudly, Ruhn explained,

“I want to date my wife. Okay? And I want to go on a date with her–but not just a lame dinner or something. I don’t want to sit in some restaurant, but I also don’t want to go to some flower show! I don’t want people around. Just the two of us. Our date.”

“I hear you,”

“So I was thinking, I want to do a picnic,”

“That’s a good idea!” Cassian nodded enthusiastically.

“But I don’t know how to do a picnic!” Ruhn ran his hand through his hair, huffing in frustration. “I googled it, and it’s giving me all this shit that I don’t know how to do!”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, man. Fried chicken and deviled eggs and potato salad,”

Cassian smirked.

“Buy her a bucket of chicken,” he laughed.

“I am serious, Cass,” Ruhn said, sounding nervous and hopeless. “What am I gonna do? I want to do something nice and romantic and I can’t show up with a bucket of KFC chicken and some potato salad. She’d think I am insane.”

Rapping his long fingers on the desk, Cassian thought and muttered,

“Okay, okay. Let’s think about it. I think you googled stuff for 4th of July,”

“I just typed in ‘picnic ideas’,” Ruhn explained defensively.

“What does Elain like? Sweets, right?”

“Have you seen Elain with an eclair?”

“Yeah…She likes sweets and pastries. So buy some champagne, a few pastries…No offence, brother, but Elain seems like a cheap date.”

Ruhn laughed,

“I mean, yeah, she is.”

“Let’s face it, this is a chick who loses her mind over soccer and is ready to throw fists. She likes beer. She eats Fen’s horrid English sandwiches with white bread and fucking potato chips inside…This is not a fancy girl!”

“I know…But I also know that Lorcan made her pasta! And took her to the opera! I can’t beat that,”

“Well, of course you can beat that. But Elain likes beer and tacos. I mean, I don’t think she’d be opposed to you cooking dinner for her, but I also think she’d like you as you are,”

“A talentless hack?”

“Don’t cook her a crap meal, if you don’t know how to cook,” Cassian recommended bluntly. “Do something nice and something she’d enjoy. It would go a long way.”

Ruhn got up and squeezed Cassian’s shoulder.

“Alright, man, thanks!”

Cassian smiled and told him gently,

“I don't think you need to worry. It’s not like you have to close the deal.”

“Yeah,” Ruhn agreed. “But it’s also for me.”

Meet me at the King Tower, on the 44th floor at 8 pm

And…send.

Elain: What’s happening?

She responded almost immediately and Ruhn smiled.

Ruhn: Are you going to meet me?

Elain: I will. But should I worry?

Ruhn: Don’t need to worry.

Elain: What is this about?

Ruhn: Surprise.

Elain: I hate surprises! Tellllll meeeeeeeee.

He chuckled, imagining her cute little face, and how she was probably bouncing on her heels, like she always did when she wanted something.

Ruhn: Nope, beautiful. But you can lube up your ass for me, like a good girl.

A lengthy pause.

He frowned wondering if he pushed it too hard.

He wanted to make it a joke, but it was his way of asking for it, and he hoped that she understood.

Elain: What? You wanna do the butt stuff?

Ruhn: When don’t I want to do the butt stuff? Will you surprise me?

Elain: I thought you were the one doing the surprising?

Ruhn: You want me to lube up my ass? As my lady commands.

The conversation made him smile. Their conversations always devolved into something ridiculous, but that’s what he loved about Elain. He didn't know what to expect, and that was good.

He wouldn’t have minded some anal. Just the two of them. For the first time, between Ruhn and Elain.

The first time was special. Absolutely unforgettable. Completely, utterly amazing. Was it the best anal he’s ever had? Yes. Yes. Yes. No contest. But his brothers were there, there was the nervousness and the pressure of the ‘first time’ and now, he yearned to relive it again, but intimately, with just Elain and him.

But first, the date.

Elain had no idea what was going on. Though she tried to figure it out and even texted Ruhn a few times during the day, he didn’t respond or was very vague in his answers. Which annoyed and frustrated Elain to no end, and she couldn’t concentrate at the shop and even messed up a bouquet and had to re-make it.

Therefore, by the time it was 7:46pm, she was stomping across the lawn, heading from her house to the looming skyscraper that was the King Tower, which housed the King Enterprises, Azriel’s office, their businesses and the security arm of business. She took herself up to the 44th floor, using the secret elevator which only the family utilised. Floors 44-53 were where most of the businesses and offices were located, but it being almost 8 pm, she didn’t expect anyone to still be here. However, once she came out of the elevator and walked down the dimly lit hallway which had an original Rothko hanging on the wall, she was stopped in her tracks, because she saw Ruhn. And some woman. And she was the type of woman that was impossible to miss–statuesque, wearing neck-breaking stilettos, reedy thin, with perfect make up at eight in the evening! She wore an expensive satin blouse with a giant bow on the side and an elegant, tight skirt. Ruhn looked relaxed, propped against the wall, his massive arms folded over his chest. He wore a Guns-n-Roses t-shirt, black jeans and boots. His long hair was braided in a tight, neat braid. The woman said something, her perfectly manicured hand lightly touching his forearm, and he laughed, easily and openly. Then he said something, and she laughed as well, throwing her head back and exposing her throat to him.

They looked like they knew each other, because there was familiarity and an ease in their gestures.

Elain didn’t think of herself as a jealous person, but she totally was. She didn't like her men talking to strange, attractive women. Especially when she looked the way that she looked right now–wearing Converse, cutoff denim shorts and Ruhn’s hoodie, which she picked up on the way out, because the evening was promising to be chilly. She dabbed some lip gloss on her lips and her wild hair was barely tamed in a messy bun.

Ruhn noticed her at last, his handsome face breaking into a welcoming smile. It was a nice smile. Genuine and happy. Like he was glad to see her, and the glamazon next to him didn’t matter. Ruhn was not an expressive man. Generally speaking, he maintained the same expression around people and whether he was angry, happy, hungry or murderous remained a secret for most. But Elain knew how to read him, just as she knew how to read Azriel. And currently, Ruhn was thrilled.

“Ellie, you made it!” he gave a brief, disinterested hug to the gorgeous woman, and she winked at him and then smiled at Elain, as she passed them by and headed to the elevator.

“Well, you said 8 o’clock,” Elain crossed her arms and let some of her displeasure bounce off of him. Let him know that she was pissed.

“I did!” he nodded and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “And you are here.”

“Who was that?” she demanded rudely and impatiently.

He glanced at the elevator and the shrugged,

“Oh, that’s Em,”

“Who is she?”

He grinned and then growled and butted her face with his, biting softly on the apple of her cheek. She attempted to swat him away, screeching loudly, but he only laughed and licked her face like a dog.

“You are gross!”

“Yeah, grossly in love with you,” he agreed and then stopped and cupped her face in his hands.

She looked up at him, feeling both insecure and elated.

“I love you too,” she murmured quietly. “That girl is very beautiful,”

“She is,” he nodded. Watching Elain’s scowl, he barked a laugh and then softly, tenderly, kissed her lips. “She is also very, very queer and Cerrdiwen’s girlfriend. So…..”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“I…I, that’s,” she mumbled, while he chuckled, “it’s not how I meant it…I mean…”

He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head.

“Yeah, I know what you meant–jealous little thing you are.”

“I am so not!”

“Oh, you so are.”

“Ohmygod!”

Elain gasped audibly.

“What is all this?!”

Ruhn tugged her by the hand and said, “Come on, beautiful.”

“You did this?” she gawked at the romantic setup.

They were on the roof of the building, 55 stories up in the air, the shimmering cityscape of Manhattan all around them. Millions upon millions of lights twinkled and sparkled all around them, and the noise of the city was muffled this high up.

“I did do this,” he confirmed, looking slightly tense, maybe a bit uncomfortable.

She clutched his hands in hers and looked around, face full of wonder.

“But why?”

“Wanted to go on a date,” he muttered gruffly.

“I love dates!”

“I hope I did okay,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

He didn’t miss her wearing his hoodie, and how sexy she looked in it. Not really sexy–the thing swallowed her whole–but to him, it was the sexiest damn thing there was. His woman, huddling in his clothes for warmth, getting his smell all over her.

A fluffy comforter pulled out from the closet. Check.

Another blanket, in case Elain got cold. Check.

A chocolate and caramel cupcake. Four bonbons. Two truffles. One glazed doughnut. A small loaf of bread. Check.

A bag of chips and a tub of dip. Check.

A bottle of Fanta. Check.

A chunk of cheddar. The good stuff. English. Check.

A bottle of Prosecco. Check.

Elain considered the odd assortment of foods, while Ruhn glared at her, his gaze hopeful, and seeking approval.

“The bakery didn’t have a lot of stuff left,” he explained quickly, and then added nervously, “and I know you love cheese.”

“I do love cheese,” she confirmed and then breathed, “it’s perfect! It’s a nighttime picnic!”

He smiled broadly,

“Yeah…yeah. Exactly.”

So what if there was expensive cheese, and cheap dip and potato chips, which made no sense? So what if there was Fanta on the menu? It was perfect.

Elain leapt into his arms and gushed,

“It’s perfect! It’s everything I ever wanted.”

“You wanted to go on a picnic?”

“Always! I love this!”

“Okay, well, sit down then,” he offered her, pulling her down on the blanket awkwardly.

He was terrible at this date thing, and Elain’s heart burst into a thousand million sparks of love for him.

He wasn’t confident and sleek like Azriel, or experienced and loose like Fenrys. He wasn’t even like Cassian, with his smirks and his fast mouth. He wasn’t brooding and amorous like Lorcan.

This was Ruhn. Her Ruhn. A brutal, terrifying gang leader, who strung people from bridges in a cruel and odious display of power and dominance, someone who once shot seven people in a span of 13 seconds, a guy who cut off someone’s balls and then delivered them in a package, complete with a rose, to the man’s wife. Ruhn did a lot of crazy, unhinged, violent things.

But he didn’t know how to date. And he loved her, his wife.

He sat cross-legged next to her, and fumbled with his phone.

“I have some music,” he said, uncertainty lacing his voice, “or if you want to watch today’s Manchester City versus Arsenal match–we can do that,”

Elain smiled at him, and then keened towards his large body and pressed her lips to his neck, lacing her fingers with his.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, feeling the pulse of his jugular under her lips.

“I love you too,” he said softly, and then pulled her hair out of the bun and his nose brushed against her cheek. “So much.”

“The music,” she requested. “Let’s do the music tonight.”

Of course he realised too late that he forgot to bring any cutlery, plates or even glasses.

Fuck his life!

But thankfully, there were napkins in one of the bags, and Elain didn’t even bat an eye. She smoothly arranged the napkins like place settings for them, and Ruhn handed her a knife–not one of his murder knives, thank god–and she sliced the bread and the cheese. He popped the cork on the Prosecco and it was cold enough not to bubble violently over everything.

“Sorry baby,” he whispered and she laughed, took the bottle, and pulled a healthy swig of the bubbly. Patting her thigh, she had him lay his head on it, and then tore into the chips and dip and fed him a hefty helping of both.

He smiled, looking up at the starless skies above and lightly wrapped his arm around her bare leg, before kissing the inside of her knee. She plopped a piece of cheese in his mouth, and then said,

“I didn’t know you were romantic like that,”

“I really am not,” he protested.

“I don’t know,” she tutted. “Champagne, and pastries and a picnic.”

“Just keep it to yourself, beautiful,” he suggested with a grin.

“Street cred?” she confirmed knowingly.

“You know it.”

The music that they were listening to was mellow and old-fashioned. Elain sang along to some of the songs, because it was all the stuff she grew up on–Sinatra, Dean Martin, old Italian songs.

“How do you have these songs?” she demanded, bobbing along to ‘Pennies in Heaven’.

“Ummm,” he grunted, looking embarrassed. “It’s a Pandora radio station. Italian dinner…”

“You even thought of that?” she stroked his forehead, tucking his silky black hair behind his ear.

He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

“I know you like this music. So I thought it would be a good soundtrack to the date.”

“Strangers in the Night” came on just then and he sang along quietly,

Strangers in the night

Exchanging glances,

Wondering in the night

What were the chances

We’d be sharing love before the night was through

Elain squeezed his hand and asked shyly,

“Dance with me?”

“Any time, sunshine,” he sat up and then wrapped his arm around her, and landed them both on their feet, as he swept her in a wide, exaggerated circle across the rooftop. It was a nice rooftop, made for parties and dancing and celebrations. Now it was empty, the space entirely theirs, the lights of the city and Frank’s smooth voice as their only companions.

“You must really love me,” Ruhn mused, watching Elain’s elated face, as he spun her around. His hoodie, which she tied around her waist, flared dramatically, like a ball gown.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off the ground and waltzed with her, as she dangled next to him, his arm supporting her entire weight.

“I do,” she nodded, giggling, her converse-clad feet floating above his boots, “but what gave it away?”

“I am gonna go with you opting to dance with me, and eat cheese and laugh and listen to music, instead of watching football. And that was one hella big game too!”

“I love you more than football,” she confessed, looking into his brilliant, cold blue eyes. “I want to date you more than I want to watch football.”

He smoothed her hair lovingly with his available hand and whispered,

“I want to date you too. More than anything.”

Suddenly, the sky came alive.

Elain gasped and stared open-mouthed at the Thursday night fireworks.

“Oh my god! I forgot about these!” she cried out, her face happy and brightly illuminated by the explosions of green and purple and pink. He held her to himself, and looked up at the sky as well, where giant flowers blossomed and stars streaked across the darkness and exploded in silvery glitter.

The song switched to ‘My Way’, its bombastic, dramatic vocals and lyrics a perfect foil for the fireworks. Ruhn carried Elain back to the blanket, and then lay down, spread-eagled and threw their heads back, watching the show.

“Wow,” she marvelled. “This is the best!”

“You like it, beautiful?”

She pointed to the sky and whispered,

“That’s how I feel with you, Ruhn. Like my heart explodes with love when I am around you. I dunno why.”

“I don’t mind,” he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her brow. “I don’t mind at all.”

She flipped onto her belly and pressed her lips to his.

“Can I ask you something?” she inquired.

“Obviously. Because you will, regardless of what I say,” he smiled at her, his large, warm palm sliding down her back and cupping her ass.

“Okay, okay,” she pouted, but obviously his comment didn’t deter her from asking,

“If you didn’t have to do any of this…Like, if you could do anything, what would you do?”

“You are assuming I don’t like killing,”

“No, I am not. Perhaps you do. Obviously, you don't have any qualms about it. But I don’t know if you woke up one day and decided to become an assassin and an enforcer. So if you didn’t, then what would you do?”

Ruhn scrubbed his hand over his face and then looked at her, before kissing her gently. He was nice tonight. Softer than usual. Elain wondered if it was going to last.

“A house husband,” he announced easily.

“What?”

“That’s what I’d be–a house husband.”

She frowned thinking that he was joking.

The fireworks were still exploding above them and he popped a cigarette between his lips and lit up.

“Honestly,” he turned on his side and brushed her cheek with his knuckles, “that’s what I want to do. Or rather, I don’t want to do anything. I want to tattoo, paint and sketch, and do fuck all else otherwise. If Az needed me to go and whack someone, I’d do it. But I’d love to be a house husband–keep a tidy, elegant home, do some cooking, some entertaining,”

“Are you for real?”

He shrugged,

“Why not? Everyone assumes that every man is full of wild ambition and needs to do stuff all the time. I don’t need to do anything.

“My ideal life would be to wake up, fuck you, go get a professional shave at the barber’s, stop for a coffee, read the paper, shoot the shit with Cass, go to my shop, sketch, tattoo, meet you for lunch, fuck you, eat with you, maybe fuck you again a little bit. Go back to the shop, then maybe wander around some galleries, look at art, pick up stuff for dinner, go to the gym, pick you up from work, have a cocktail. On occasion, I’d talk business with Az and Fen. Dinner. Maybe even cook it myself for all of you. Have a couple more cocktails, play in the pool, play cards, fuck you.”

“How many times a day are you planning to fuck me?” she pondered.

“I dunno. Five-ish?”

“You are ambitious.”

“A man can dream,” he concluded, puffing out a cloud of smoke, his expression pensive and thoughtful. Like describing her perfect life made him wish for it to be true.

Elain sat up, and his palm landed on her upper thigh, squeezing lightly, while he made a little disgruntled noise when she separated from him.

“Come back,” he urged her, opening up his arm for her, but she just looked at him, cocking her head. Then she reached into her pocket and took something out, but didn’t show him.

“Do you still want to do it?” she asked at last.

“Do what?”

“You know,” and she tossed whatever she was holding atop of his chest. He craned his neck and picked up a tube, looking at it in confusion.

“Anal,” she pressed. “Do you want it?”

“Huh…Yeah,” he finally managed to say, looking dazed.

Finally, when he dawned upon him what she was offering, he sat up abruptly and she laughed at his eagerness.

“You serious?” he pressed, twisting the tube of lube in his fingers.

She nodded and whispered, “Yeah. I want to do it again.”

“Did you like it the first time?” he asked.

“It was a lot,” she admitted. “But I loved it…how you did it.”

She blushed, and unbuttoned her shorts.

Ruhn almost tore the shorts off her slender thighs, rolling them down so quickly, it almost gave her a fabric burn.

“Take everything off,” he ordered, as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, his icy blue eyes never leaving hers, “leave the keds.”

She was completely naked in front of him in less than a minute, but still wearing her converse, her long hair spilling all over her body. He crawled towards her over the blanket and kissed her knee, parting her legs carefully, eyeing her pink slit.

“How do you want it?” he asked, his voice hoarse, his rough, large palms smoothing over her inner thighs, parting her legs even further, opening her up bit by bit.

“How you’d normally give it to me,” she requested shyly, stroking his arm. “Rough. Deep. How you always do it.”

He looked at her intently, seeking any hesitation or falseness, but found none.

“I love you, Ruhn,” she reminded him calmly. “Just the way you are. If you are going to ride my ass, I want you to ride it like Ruhn would.”

He smirked and spread her legs widely, as she slid back and propped herself on her elbows, watching him and his ravenous gaze, tracking the movement of his eyes, as they took in her wet, slick pussy, before he pushed her back a bit, so he could see her other hole.

“Did you lube it up for me?” he raised his brow, just as his finger slipped from her opening, dragging some of the moisture down below.

“Nope,” she popped her lips. “My holes are yours, but you do the work.”

He grinned savagely and nodded, muttering, “just like I like it!”

The sight of her so nicely spread for him, so ready and willing made his dick hard as a fucking rock and he knew he’d have to pace himself, because he was in danger of blowing his load before he even got inside that sweet ass.

“Spread it for me a little bit, sweetheart,” he urged her, “show me how much you want it.”

She looked so adorable like this: completely naked, with her large, round breasts and the soft thighs, and the little keds, which skirted the edge of some sort of fetish, but he wasn’t going to think about that now. Not when she reached down, and pulled her cheeks apart for him, opening that cute little hole a bit more. She was looking at him, biting her lower lip, her ass nicely stretched, and he brought the tip of his dick to her lips. She kissed it immediately, and caught a bead of precum with the tip of her tongue, gliding her tongue over the smooth cockhead.

“Put it in, Runnie,” she requested with a pout. “I want it!”

“Do you want me to stretch you a little bit first, beautiful?” he asked, and dipped his cock between her folds, gathering some of the slick with his shaft. She shuddered when he brushed over her clit a few times, her back arching, her hands kneading her pale lovely butt cheeks impatiently.

“No,” she moaned. “I want to feel it…How you fill me up.”

He wasn’t going to argue and squirted a generous amount of lube between her cheeks, before placing her feet on his shoulders and pushing her legs way back, as he leaned into her.

“Relax, sunshine,” he kissed her lips softly, with a kind, soothing kiss, seeing how she tensed beneath him. “I am going to make it good for you. But your pretty asshole belongs to me, doesn’t it?” he asked, while the tip of his cock circled the tight rim of her anus. “Will you give it to me like my good girl?”

“I am your good girl,” she muttered, as she looked between their bodies, back to biting her lip in anticipation.

“That’s right,” he growled, pressing into her tiny hole, as her breath hitched loudly in her chest, “and good girls get their tushies fucked,” propping himself on one arm above her shoulder, he pushed his cock forward, breaching the ring and eliciting a loud, pained moan from her.

Fuck it felt good. So good.

Her head lolled back, as her thighs trembled around his shoulders, as she took inch after inch after inch of his thick shaft inside her narrow, scorching hot rectum.

He knew he’d never get enough of this. The sensation of possession, or her complete submission, her sad, pretty moans, the nervous twitching of her long, tight passage was simply amazing. Was ‘amazing’ the right word? It wasn’t enough. Amazing wasn’t enough.

“Ohmygod. Ohmygod,” she cried out again and again, while he licked his lips, muttering, ‘just a little more, sweetheart. You are taking it all in, my love,”

“Yes, yes,” she gasped quietly, “ohmygod, it’s so much!”

“You like getting your pretty ass filled,” he insisted, “it needs my dick in there,”

“I am having second thoughts!” she complained and he laughed, kissing the top of her head.

“No you are not,” he tsked. “Look at you! Your hole is packed with dick, just like it’s supposed to be,” he added proudly, bottoming out.

She bit his chin, his neck, licking mindlessly on whatever she could reach with her tongue and her lips, moaning loudly and unabashedly. She didn’t give a shit if she was making a ton of noise–she was being fucked in the ass by a nine inch dick, and his balls were currently slapping against her skin. She was panting, sweat trickling down her brow, the bead immediately licked by Ruhn’s eager tongue.

He kept himself fully sheathed inside of her, but didn’t move, though she noticed the strain of his muscles, the tension of his cobbled abdomen and the bulging of his biceps, as he kept himself back and allowed her to adjust.

Taking deep breaths, she nuzzled into his neck and whispered, “you can move now.”

He exhaled and replied, “give me a sec, beautiful.”

He smiled against his skin, realising that he was straining not only to keep himself in check, but also to keep himself from coming.

“Do I feel good for you?” she asked, kissing him around the ear. “Is my poor ass nice for your mammoth cock?”

“Better than anything!” he assured her and then pulled back at last, before gliding back inside.

The drag of his dick was mesmerising. The most glorious feeling that Elain could imagine. Sure, she loved orgasms–who didn’t?--but it was this that she cherished. The long pull of the thick length, emptying her almost completely, before filling her back up. God she loved it. It was so painful, the burn acute and deep, as her passage accommodated the unbelievably tight fit of him in her, but it also felt absolutely indescribable.

“God, you are so big,” she choked out, knowing that she probably shouldn't be stroking Ruhn’s massive ego right now, because his cock’s been praised and admired plenty, but she couldn’t help it. He was huge, and he felt so, so good inside of her.

He fucked her with deep, firm, but languid thrusts, only his hips working atop of her thighs. He readjusted his position, lifting himself off of her, and holding her feet to his shoulders, while he pumped hard into her ass. Her tits bounced and jumped with every powerful push, and he was watching her huff and grunt beneath him, ordering her to ‘keep your cheeks spread, sweetheart. Are you my sweet girl?”

“Yes,” she nodded, knowing that she was weak and needy for him, and would probably do anything to have him continue pounding into her ass. “I love it,” she moaned. “I love it so much…”

He smirked indulgently at her, nodding slowly,

“I know, sweetheart. I know. That little hole was made just for me. You can take more, can’t you?”

She nodded, watching his stunning body flex and work atop of her. All the ink, the sensational musculature, the smooth, dark golden skin painted with intricate designs–a living canvas of chaos.

“Isn’t it good to be mine?” he asked.

“Always, my house husband,” he smiled widely at him, relishing the glorious burn and build up of pleasure inside of her.

He barked a laugh, nosing against her nose, whispering, “Not yet. But something to aspire to.”

Elain knew that Ruhn was holding himself back a little with her, and she appreciated it. He was loving her in his usual manner–forceful, open, unrestrained, yet slightly more careful and caring. Her clit demanded attention, and without her even saying anything, he was already on it, his thumb pressing on it firmly and rubbing steadily.

“Oh it’s good, it’s good,” her eyes closed and she indulged in all the sumptuous, gorgeous, erotic sensations that currently engulfed her body. The even, unfaltering rhythm of his cock in her ass brought her to an orgasm quicker than she anticipated, and she shook and screamed until she was hoarse, not caring about anything, but the beautiful slamming of his cock and the magic of his finger.

Ruhn wasn’t far behind. His arms clasped her now-pliant, softened body, and he pulled her up into his embrace, holding her like a ragdoll on his lap, as he fucked easily into her, and she kissed him sleepily, draping her arms around his shoulders.

He finished deep inside of her, hot and abundant, and didn’t release her from his hold for a long time, kissing her and stroking her hair.

“Noooo, not yet,” she pleaded, when he made a move to withdraw.

He kissed her again and smiled, laying both of them on their side, his soft cock still nestled inside of her, just like she wanted.

“Let’s eat more chips and drink Fanta!” she proposed decisively.

Ruhn chuckled, arguing, “this is supposed to be a romantic date. Chocolates and music and wine,”

In turn, she reminded him, “Instead, we got chips and dip and dancing and anal. All of my favourite things!”

He hummed to himself and thought that this was not a bad first date.

Not a bad date at all.

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