#waiting for you is like waiting for rain in this drought | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gumified · 11 days

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pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better.

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.”

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him.

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name."

"Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal."

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured.

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?"

"And I'm willing to pay that price."

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded.

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice.

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you.

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him.

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept."

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth.

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you.

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you.

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants.

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.”

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting.

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy.

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.”

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit.

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.”

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.”

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused.

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks.

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision.

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?”

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive.

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face.

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag.

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you.

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.”

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely.

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure.

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body.

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive.

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory.

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.

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davinaclaires · 19 days

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Because waiting for you is like waiting for rain in this drought. Useless and disappointing. A Cinderella Story (2004) dir. Mark Rosman

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loves0ft · 1 year

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a cinderella story will always be a funny movie

#‘waiting for you is like waiting for rain in this drought. useless and disappointing.’#the best quote ever LMAO

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zoinksf1 · 2 years

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feeling the intense need to watch a cinderella story

#it costs a fortune to ship that stuff in from nor-weig-uh #you’re not very pretty and you’re not very bright #I’m so glad we had this talk #because waiting for you is like waiting for rain in this drought #useless and disappointing

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

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nobody sees, nobody knows

Alright, here we are, me adding my two cents into the dbf!Joel trope which we all love so much. I've read so many incredible fics like this so hopefully mine can stand up with them all. This will be a series, so strap in for more of our favourite neighbourhood DILF.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Back to Texas with a degree under your belt and a school girl fantasy to fuck your dad's best friend. What could go wrong?

Warnings | I mean, dbf!Joel comes with his own warning right? Other than that, swearing, alcohol consumption, age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), dirty talk, and fingering.

Word Count | 3.3K

PART 2 | MAIN MASTERLIST

There was something about summer in Texas that just hit differently. The way the heat crawled on your skin from the moment you woke up to the moment you tried to sleep at night. The way your father used it as an excuse to cook primarily on the grill, regardless of the food, and the way your mother always made sure the fridge was stocked with cold drinks. The way traffic seemed to cease to exist during the high points of the day, meaning you went to the store every day at midday to buy ice cream. The haze you got from sipping cold beer by your parents’ pool which made you want to do reckless things like you’d done in New York before you realized that the beady eyes of your parents would be all over you if you tried. Reckless things like tell Joel Miller you’d wanted to fuck him for years.

Every time you’d come home from school, and he’d be there you could have sworn he’d just gotten more and more attractive. The last time you were home, for Christmas and New Year’s, you could have sworn he’d started at the gym, his biceps bulging in the arms of his fitted t-shirt, when your dad commented on it, he's chalked it down to particularly heavy lifting on the job he was working then. He’d had his hair cut in a way that made his face even more handsome and you’re pretty sure the last few times you’d been home he’d noticed how you’d flourished too.

There were moments where you’d catch his eyes as they drew themselves up your legs, or the time you decided to test your theory and wear a low-cut top and your best bra to a dinner party. His eyes had trained on your chest for most of the night, there was a moment where you’d stood up and leaned over the table to pick up the salt instead of asking him to pass it. He’d choked on his drink and your dad had slapped his back to try and help him. At least you knew he was thinking like you.

Neither of you had tried crossing the line though. Past the point of no return. You wanted him to make the first move, save yourself the embarrassment of rejection if it came, but it felt like waiting for Joel Miller to kiss you was like waiting for rain in the drought Texas was currently experiencing. Useless and disappointing. You wished sometimes that you could burrow into his brain and figure out what it was that he was really thinking about you. You suspected there would be some code of honour he was sticking to because you were his best friend’s daughter – sure it might complicate things, but you weren’t going to be back in Texas forever – what was the worst that could happen during the secret, torrid affair you’d been cooking up in your head since you arrived back from college a week ago?

“Did you hear me when I spoke to you?” Your mother’s voice pulled you from the daydream you were having whilst polishing the cutlery.

“Sorry mom, I was miles away.”

“I know!” She exclaims, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you since you came back, you’ve been away with the fairies,” She sighs, “I said, once you’ve set the cutlery out back can you help your dad with filling the fridge with the beer, please?”

You hum in agreement which is enough to send her back to the endless chopping she seems to be doing at the kitchen counter. It was just a cookout with the Millers and few other family friends to celebrate your return, but you think your mother thinks she’s catering for a garden party at the White House with the number of sides she’s preparing.

You make quick work of the rest of the cutlery, wanting to avoid any more questions about why you seem miles away all the time – you can’t exactly tell your mother it’s because you’re thinking about how Joel might eat your pussy.

“Need any help, old man?” You greet your dad in the garage, he’s on his knee’s pulling out bottles of Budweiser to stack in the fridge.

“Here, grab these and start putting them in,” He’s smiling, he’s always been an overly happy and laid-back man, “I hope we’ve got enough in.”

“How many people are you expecting?” You chuckle, taking a bottle from him to add to the growing number already stacked on the shelves.

“Probably ten or so,” Hu shrugs, “But one of those people is Tommy Miller and he’s not changed a bit since you’ve been away.”

“Between your drinks and mom’s sides we could host the entire neighborhood.” You joke.

You continue to fill the fridge up with drinks until there’s no room left. Your dad stores the leftover crates next to it for refilling throughout the evening, “Now, go and make yourself look nice, everyone’ll be here soon.”

You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t picked your shortest and lowest cut dress for the evening. It was a pale blue colour, with pink flowers dotted about the material. It fell to your mid-thigh and you had to keep reminded yourself to kneel down instead of bending over, in case people who you didn’t want to look caught an eyeful of the scant lace covering your ass.

There are a few people milling around already, cold beers in hand, mainly some of your dad’s older friends, who have all congratulated you on graduating and then moved on to talk about mundane neighborhood gossip.

“Now, where is that smartass?” You hear from the sliding doors; it’s Tommy and he’s bounding over to you to give you a hug.

He scoops you up into a bone breaking hug, “Congratulation’s girl, your dad said you graduated top of the class!”

He’s set you down and you can see Joel standing awkwardly next to him, “He’s exaggerating, I wasn’t top, although pretty close to it,” You turn to Joel, “Hey there.” He bends down to give you a one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek.

“Good to see you back, sweetheart.”

“Good to see you too, Joel,” You chirp in response, “Where’s Sarah?”

“She’s at camp for the first part of the summer,” He explains, “Back in a couple’a weeks, she’ll be thrilled to see you again.”

“Boys!” Your dad’s booming voice interrupts your conversation, “Good to see you both!” He turns to you, “Why don’t you go and get these two some beers, I need to speak to them about fixin’ up the attic.”

You turn quietly and head for the garage. Of course, you’d become waitress at your own welcome home party. It takes no time at all for you to come back with three beers, two for the Miller brothers and one for yourself. You hand them off wordlessly, but you don’t miss how Joel grips the bottle just above your fingers, brushing against them. Of all the places for him to grab the bottle, that couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

The rest of the evening goes by as expected. You spend most of it running around helping your mom set the food out, fetching more beers for everyone and trying to field questions from everyone about what you’re going to do in Texas with an MA in Archival Studies. You bite your tongue every time, and reply with something like, “I think I’ll probably work in an archive.”

The night is winding down, your mom already in bed having finished her wine too quickly, your dad sat outside in the quickly fading sunlight with Joel and Tommy and a few other stragglers. It fell to you to make aa start on the dishes, which is what you were currently doing. Rinsing them off over the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher, pausing long enough each time to take a sip of lukewarm beer.

“They got you tidyin’ up your own party?” You hear from behind you. It’s Joel.

“I’m the only one sober enough not to break anything.” You shrug without turning around to face him.

“Seems a little unfair if you ask me, sweetheart.”

“Well, why don’t you make yourself useful and help?” You counter, “Then I can be sat outside drinkin’ beer with you all.”

You hear his boots on the floor and then he’s next to you, reaching around to grab the pile of cutlery on the side, he opens the dishwasher further to put the cutlery in their designated tray and then stop, “Has no-one ever taught you how to stack a dishwasher?”

You pause in your rinsing to look up at him for the first time, “What do you mean?”

“This is awful sweetheart,” He chuckles, “You’ve got the bowls and plates in the wrong place – you’ll be doing three washes if you carry on like this.”

“Well, go on then, maestro, show me how to stack it.”

He’s unloading everything you’ve put in so far, apart from what you suspect he thinks was his expertly placed cutlery, and you’re watching as he’s stacking in completely differently to you. Annoyingly he’s not wrong, the way he’s doing it means you’ll likely fit everything in at once, “Can’t believe you’ve lived on your own for five years and didn’t learn how to stack a dishwasher.”

“Joel, I was in a dingy studio apartment in the ass end of New York, you think I had a dishwasher?”

“Well, consider yourself taught now, I don’t ever wanna see a dishwasher looking anything less than perfect, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Mr Miller.” You watch as his eyebrows raise at your new greeting, oh. He liked that.

He picks up your almost empty beer bottle and hands it to you, “Go on, down the rest,” He’s grinning, “Then go and sit down and I’ll get you a fresh one.”

You decide to push it a little further, “Yes, sir.” You watch as he swallows deeply at your words before you’re brushing past him, far too close than necessary to go and sit down.

It’s another hour of sitting around in the garden before everyone else is gone – Tommy is finishing off his beer and telling Joel he’ll be heading to his to crash.

“I’m going to call it a night too,” Your dad says, “Stay and finish your drink though Joel, there’s no rush, I’m sure this one can keep you company with her stories from New York.”

And then you’re alone with him, finally. He’s taking a long drink from his beer bottle, which you mirror, realizing suddenly that you didn’t eat much, and you’ve drunk far more than you probably should. You’re not drunk, but there’s a pleasant buzz through your body that’s making your eyelids a little heavy.

When the light goes off in your parents’ room, you figure it’s safe, “I’ve seen you staring at me, you know.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “You make it hard not to, sweetheart.”

“Do you want me, Joel?” You don’t know where you’ve come from all of a sudden, but this confident girl isn’t someone you recognize.

“It ain’t a question of wantin’ you sweetheart, it’s a question of doin’ the right thing.” You watch as he rubs his hand over his forehead in frustration.

“But you do,” You push him, “Want me?”

“Course I do,” He’s swallowing thickly again, just like he did in the kitchen, “But I can’t have you.”

“Says who?” You pry.

“Says the fact that I’m one’a your dad’s best friends, not to mention far too old for you.” He’s looking at you and taking another big drink from his bottle, like if he finishes, he can leave you alone.

“No-one has to know,” You shrug, “Could be our little secret?”

“You been readin’ too many of them romance novels,” He snorts, “It don’t work like that, if they find out they’ll fucking kill me.” He’s tilting his head to the window of your parents’ room.

You stand from your seat opposite him, walking around the table to stop just in front of Joel, “Come on Joel, have a little fun for once.”

There’s a moment where you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, trying to weigh up being shot for touching his best friend’s little girl and finally satisfying the craving he’d wanted for a while now. Then, he’s putting his bottle down on the floor next to the chair he’s sat in. You watch closely as he shifts his position to sit more towards the edge of the chair, before one of his hands reaches out to grip the back of your thigh, just above the crease of your knee.

“You’ll be the death of me,” He mumbles before he looks up at you, “C’mere.”

He’s pulling gently on your leg as he shifts back in the seat, guiding you so your hips are straddling his. You try not to press yourself too fully into him just yet, letting your clothed heat rest above his lap. One of his arms comes to wrap around the back of your waist, the other tangling in your hair at the back of your head whilst he looks at you with eyes that say he wants to devour you.

“You gonna kiss me, Mr Miller?” You ask, innocently.

“Oh darlin’, I’m gonna do so much more than that.”

His head is tilting to the side and looking up at you from your higher ground, perched on his lap. Then his lips are on yours and God all those years of longing were worth it. They’re pressed tentatively against your own, but you can feel they’re slightly chapped. His hand resting in your hair grips a little tighter and he’s moving your head slightly so that when he opens his mouth against yours it’s the easiest thing for you to open yours right back and let his tongue into your mouth.

You let out a gasp, swallowed into his own mouth when his hands drop back to your thighs before they’re trailing up the small skirt of your dress to cup the cheeks of your ass, “You wear this for me?” He pulls away, speaking before he’s trailing his lips along your jawline, “Thought you’d get me worked up in this tiny little thing, naughty girl?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

He huffs a breath out of his nose as if to say, of course it did. He’s trailing his hot mouth down your neck now, dragging his teeth along your skin before licking with his tongue to soothe any red marks he might leave. Your head is thrown back as his hands drag you down so you’re sitting flush against him. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his jeans when your clothed pussy makes contact with him.

You’re whining as his hands are on your hips under your dress, the hot skin of his hands setting fire to you, “What do you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his tongue trailing down to the valley between your tits.

“Fingers,” You rasp, “Make me come with your fingers Joel.”

He lets out a low chuckle against your skin, “Needy little thing, already beggin’ me to finger fuck her.”

But he’s already obliging your request, one of his hands is moving down from your hip to the front of your panties, running his thumb over the material from top to bottom, “God, I can feel how wet you are already,” You look down and he’s grinning, “I’m gonna take these off, sweetheart, but you gotta promise to keep quiet okay?”

You nod in agreement before you’re lifting your hips up, just enough for Joel to hook his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pull them down enough so his hands can touch you. He mimics the same movement he’d done over the material, this time his fingers touching the bare skin of you seam and he’s groaning when he feels the slick gathered near your tight hole.

“God, you really are wet, aren’t ya?” He chuckles, a flush creeping over your cheeks, “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart,” He reassures, “Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.”

You feel one of his thick fingers slip inside you, just a little, before he’s dragging the slick he’s gathered up to run light touches over your clit. You bite down on your lip to keep you from crying out into the dark, hips bucking into his hand to try and get more friction from his fingers. He takes the hint and is pressing his finger more firmly into your bundle of nerves and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to keep quiet.

When Joel’s hand drops from your clit you almost cry from frustration, put then he’s sinking two of his fingers straight into your soaking pussy and the relief is palpable. He’s moving them in and out of you, curling them in just the right way that has your hips moving in time with him, literally fucking yourself on his fingers. You let your head fall into the crook of his neck, placing kisses to his skin as you ride his fingers.

“This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks, his free hand coming to cup the back of your head against his neck, at least this way you could make some noise – testing out your theory you let out a throaty moan, listening carefully as his skin muffles most of the sound.

“I need… god Joel, my clit, please.”

With his fingers still buried inside you, working you to the edge, his thumb moves to your clit, resuming the circles his finger had been drawing over it before, “I can feel your pussy gettin’ tight around my fingers,” He’s turned his head so it’s buried in the hair at the side of your head, “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

You push back from him a little, looking down between your bodies where you can see his hand working you and that’s really all it takes. Your legs are shaking and you’re biting down on your lip hard enough that you can taste blood as pleasure bursts through you – not even you had made yourself come like this. Ever. Joel’s fingers have stilled inside you, but he’s still tracing your clit with gentle movements of his thumb, reveling in the way you jerk through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He coos at you once he’s pulled his hand from your pussy.

You’ve collapsed onto his chest to catch your breath, but you’re already subconsciously grinding your hips into his, God you want more. You’re about to reach for his belt when you can feel something vibrating in the pocket of his jeans.

He’s mumbling an apology, lifting you just enough to fish his phone from his pocket. He answers without looking at who is calling. You can hear Tommy’s voice through the phone from your place, draped over Joel’s lap.

“You just turn it to the side, jackass,” Joel is mumbling in answer to Tommy’s question on how to work his shower, “You’ve used it a million times,” Tommy say’s something you can quite make out, “No, not that one, the one underneath it,” Joel is sighing, “You were not this drunk when you left, if I find you’ve finished the good whiskey I’m gonna kill you,” Another sigh to a question you couldn’t quite hear, “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Disappointment is pooling in your stomach. You don’t want him to go, not when there’s so much unfinished business here, “I gotta go, sweetheart.” He’s mumbling, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“But what about this?” You ask, reaching between you to cup his cock through his jeans, “Let me help you.”

His hand is gripping your wrist, “I would love nothin’ more, but I gotta go before Tommy floods my house,” Another kiss to your lips, “Next time.”

“You want to do this again?” You ask, almost surprised.

He takes the hand that had been buried in your pussy not minutes before, lifting the fingers he’d fucked you with to his mouth before sucking them right in front of your face, “Now I’ve gotta taste for you, sweetheart?” He raises an eyebrow, “Of course I wanna do this again.”

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nateconnolly · 6 months

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Two sisters lived in a fragrant house. The older sister Ahana worried that a drought might come, but the younger sister Leela was happy to spend all day in the house.

“Stop looking for something to complain about!” Leela chided Ahana. “The rain will provide for us!”

But Ahana began to dig a well. It was bitter work. Each morning, Ahana woke before the sunrise, and Leela slept peacefully until noon.

After the first month, Ahana cried, “You lie here all morning like a lazy dog! Come dig the well with me!” And so Leela and Ahana both woke before the next sunrise.

But the work was very bitter.

“The rain will provide,” Leela said after digging for six hours.

“Then go home,” Ahana replied, so Leela returned to the fragrant house. She boiled rice and chicken; she mixed it with salt, turmeric, and parsley. Ahana returned after dark and saw a bowl of food waiting for her. Leela was already asleep: she had gone to bed before the sunset.

Ahana took a blanket and draped it over her sleeping sister.

After the second month, Ahana thought to herself, “Why should I continue to dig the well alone?” So she said to her sister, “Come dig the well with me tomorrow.”

The next day, Ahana woke before sunrise, and Leela woke when the sky turned blue. Leela joined her sister, but the work was very bitter.

“The rain will provide,” Leela said after digging for an hour, so she returned to the fragrant house.

Ahana returned after dark. She found a bowl of rice waiting for her, but it had been left out since noon. The food was very cold.

After the third month, Ahana said, “Come dig the well with me tomorrow,” but Leela stayed home.

After the fourth month, Ahana said, “Come dig the well with me,” but Leela did not look at her. So Leela went to bed long before the sun had set, and Ahana dug long after dark.

While Ahana was gone, Leela grew very hungry, so she ate both portions of the food.

After the fifth month, Ahana completed the well. She went home and slept until sunset.

After the sixth month, the rain stopped. Leela said, “Let me drink from your well, or I will surely die,” but Ahana said, “Why should I let you drink from a well that you did not dig? And what good is your rice now that you cannot boil it?”

After the seventh month, Leela died, and Ahana inherited her rice. Ahana grew very rich. She sold rice and charged neighbors to drink from her well. Rice was so scarce that people would sell their houses just for a single bag. Ahana bought herself golden dishes rimmed with jewels; gems and diamonds from every continent; fine dresses of every color; cool, refreshing lakes, and wide open fields.

But her house was no longer fragrant. She realized Leela must have been burning incense to keep the house smelling nice. Ahana only noticed now that her sister was gone.

The waters of the well were still deep even when Ahana’s hair turned grey, and her joints creaked as she moved. Her memory was like a small cloud in a great storm: tossed about, torn up, and pushed away by the winds of her age. She lost things that she needed. She saw things that weren’t there.

Ahana walked to the well in confusion. She saw a drowning woman in the well, and she thought to herself in terror, “My sister cannot swim!”

Ahana jumped into the well to save her sister, but she could not find Leela.

There was only the waters of the deep.

And so, Ahana drowned trying to save her own reflection.

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

Two sisters were married to the same merchant.

They had grown up in another house beside another field. The older sister was Asha and the younger sister was Labuki. The drought had passed and there was plenty in the land.

When they were children, Labuki asked, “Where has your well gone?”

But Asha dismissed it, thinking to herself, My sister is a infant. She does not know that what she says is nonsense. She doesn’t understand that I do not have a well. Their mother married both girls to a merchant to secure contracts. Their family would make a fortune selling rice through his trade caravans.

Asha was his first wife, but he loved her younger sister more. He lavished Labuki with gifts and servants, jewels and perfumes, while Asha lived in a separate house on his property. Nevertheless, Asha was an ambitious woman.

“Surely, if I give my husband a son, he will look on me with favor,” Asha said to herself. But when Asha laid with him she produced a daughter, and she cursed her child for being a girl. Even as she fed the baby, she whispered, “I don’t want you, I don’t want you.”

Labuki laid with the merchant and produced a son.

Asha laid with the merchant again and produced another daughter.

Labuki laid with the merchant again and produced another son.

Asha laid with the merchant again and produced another daughter.

Labuki laid with the merchant again and died in childbirth.

“You are my wife now,” said the merchant. “I give you power over your sister’s sons.”

Asha looked at the sleeping boys, who could not yet understand that their mother was dead. She could send them off into the woods alone. Her daughters would be the sole inheritor of the merchant’s wealth, and Asha would be the sole mother of his children.

“They are my sister’s babies,” said Asha. “They will live here with us.”

Her nephews grew up calling her ‘Mother,’ and she never corrected them. It felt like a lie. Her daughters grew up calling her ‘Mother,’ and that felt like a lie, too.

You can read the rest of this story for free on my AO3 for original fiction.

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#nate's writing #fiction #original post

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readingcoco · 4 months

Text

Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 3444 words

Ao3 Link

Summary: When a new sandy-haired Deputy Sheriff arrives in town, you can't figure out why he gives you and the other Working Girls so little attention. It becomes your mission to figure him out and hopefully make some money along the way.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honor Arthur Morgan, angst, mutual pining, Deputy Callahan.

Thanks to @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr & @shootybangbang for all your help on this story and for being dreamy angels.

Chapter One - The Deputy

[chapter 2]

“Guess who’s downstairs!” a voice interrupts from behind your door.

The autumn sun sits heavy in the sky, casting a warm pink haze that spills in through your bedroom window. You were supposed to start your shift an hour ago, but instead, you are here, sprawled out on your bed, hair undone, counting the money from the evening before. Muffled notes from the piano downstairs drift softly into your room. You inhale deeply on your cigarette, resenting all things that pull you away from these precious sleepy moments before you have to head downstairs. Make conversation. Smile. Perform.

Timekeeping has never been your strong suit, and you have lost count of the times Lulu had threatened to dock your tips for tardiness. These were empty threats, of course. You knew your position was secure - Even if Lulu liked to kick up a fuss in front of the other girls.

Brow furrowed, you take another drag from your cigarette. $15. $75 total from the week so far. Money hadn’t been flowing as freely as it had done seasons past. The drought had hit everyone hard, and you knew, sure enough, if the boys were feeling it in the tobacco fields, it wouldn’t be long till you were feeling it in the cat house, too. Seemed everyone was praying for rain. Still, Saturday meant full pay packets and men eager to let loose after the working week - something you were more than happy to help them with.

“Who!?” you call out, just as Minnie peeps her head around your door.

“Christ! You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge ass backwards! Lulu’s been askin' after you?”

You hum in response, dragging a comb through the bird's nest atop your head sweeping it up into a loose bun. “Who's got you all giddy? Surely not some John?”

“That new Deputy’s back!”

You roll your eyes. “How big’s the pot now?”

“$5. $5.25, if you still fancy your chances”, Minnie smirks, perching herself at the foot of your bed, watching as you put the last of your face on. “but Ida says she’s out. She don’t wanna waste more time on a Trick who don’t want tricking.”

“Tricks always want to be tricked,” you say, rooting through the collection of bills and coins laid out haphazardly across your bed, handing Minnie 25¢, which she slips into her coin purse.

Men were mostly the same. Sure, some might pretend to be respectable in the streets with their wives or taking their mothers to church on a Sunday, but you’d had every colour and creed between your legs. This deputy would be no different, and you were going to relish claiming the prize pot for yourself.

With a final drag of your cigarette, you smooth out your skirts and collect the pile of money on your bed, stashing it in your linen drawer - making a mental note to deposit it in the parlour safe before the night was out. Keeping that much money in your room is foolish, and if you were more sensible, you would deposit your tips between each John. But then you’d miss out on watching the pile grow. Evidence of your labour, your time, your craft. It wasn't like you worried you wouldn’t get it back as soon as requested - Lulu’d always been good about things like that, but to hand it over before you’d even had the chance to feel the paper fully in your palm seemed like it would make it less real somehow.

You turn to Minnie-

“You ready?”

“Girl, I’ve been waiting on you!”

“Let’s give that deputy the night of his life.”

Although the sun is yet to set in the sky, the house is already live with music and laughter, the mezzanine balcony providing the perfect vantage point to assess what the evening might have in store. There are men fresh from the fields playing Faro, Lemoyne Raiders several whiskeys deep, a few of the younger, more boisterous Grays and the creepy gunsmith, Mister Feeney. Not amazing pickings, but not dire either. Then you spot him, sitting quietly on the table closest to the door, hat pulled low, scribbling something furiously into some book. An odd sight, all considered. You weren’t sure most of the men in this town could read, let alone write.

Minnie squeezes your arm before descending the spiralled staircase, the Deputy firmly in her sights. You lean back to watch as she glides effortlessly across the room—a vision in teal silk taffeta.

As you settle onto your hip, the fine hairs on your neck abruptly stand to attention as the air pressure changes behind you.

“So kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Lulu’s voice drips thick with syrupy disdain. Smile remaining tight. Never in front of the guests.

“Punctuality is a virtue of the bored, Miss Lulu.” You smile sweetly.

She’s not impressed.

“Just get to work. Make Some Money.”

As you look back down to the floor below, a dispirited Minnie is walking away from the Deputy, his nose still firmly in his book. You bristle slightly. Did this man think himself better than the women who worked here? Sure, he was paying for drinks, but a man could drink at home if he was looking for solitude. In a parlour house, it was polite, proper even, to tip the girls, whether you require our services or not. And if the deputy didn’t know this etiquette, you were more than happy to educate him. Prize pot be damned.

It was your turn to make the night’s debut down the curve of the parlour’s stairs, something that on an ordinary night, you liked to draw out for as long as possible. Feel the eyes of each man gaze up at your form like they were watching a goddess descending from heaven, blessing them with your time. True power. But tonight, it takes everything in you not to stomp down the last few steps onto the floor.

That cad still isn’t paying you a lick of attention.

“Deputy.” Your voice comes out curter than you intend as you reach him. You hope Lulu isn’t close enough to overhear.

“Maybe another time, Darlin” " the man responds without looking up.

Make conversation.

“Deputy” You try again. “Are you aware of the price on your head?”

The sound of pencil scratching comes to a halt as he turns to face you. To your surprise, you notice that he was drawing rather than writing as he snaps the leather-bound book shut—the sound startling your gaze upwards to meet his own. And for the first time, you take in the scale of the man. Built like an Ox with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, upon which the words ‘Deputy Sheriff’ shine out from his silver badge. From this proximity, he looks unlike any lawman you’ve seen.

He watches you intently as though trying to predict your next move - eyes a piercing shade of azure blue, locked dangerously onto your own. You have his full attention, but now you’re unsure if you want it.

“Excuse me?”

You swallow and try to make your next words lighter in tone.

Smile.

“Nearly five and a half dollars, in fact.”

His shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Eyes still on you but less predacious, perhaps even the suggestion of a smirk beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.

“Five and a half dollars? That’s some bounty. What I do, rob a bank?”

“Worse,”

He rubs his jaw.

“Oh?”

“You got five whores questioning our faculties. There’s a sweep on which lucky lady’s gonna be the first to get you upstairs, but so far, no one’s got as far as your name.”

A low rasp of a laugh passes the Deputy’s lips, and you feel a sense of relief as the danger in the air dissipates. Bluntness- this man responds to bluntness. And you wonder if you can hold his attention long enough to work your magic.

Perform.

“There are normally two reasons a man mightn’t want to lay with a girl like me…”

You pause for effect, starting to have fun now.

“He’s broke. Though that don’t stop most from pushin’ their luck. Or they’re queer.”

The Deputy straightens and clears his throat. There is something delightful about making a man like this squirm, and you can’t help but sense that he may be enjoying it too.

“So which is it, Deputy?”

You give him your most innocent of smiles. Hand finding purchase upon the swell of his shoulder, knowing full well that its removal could signal the latter of your accusations. You are being cruel now.

There is a moment of hesitation before the man can find the words to respond. Your unassuming smile not giving him an inch of wiggle room. Thumb beginning to make slow circles atop his shirt.

“I-It’s just not really my thing. Payin' for it, I mean. Not that I can’t, or - or-”

“Oh? There’s some third thing I ain’t privy to? A sweetheart somewhere you’re keeping true for?”

“Not really, no.”

A hint of regret in his voice.

“Then why deny yourself a bit of company?”

You notice the tips of his ears turn pink and leave his lack of an answer to hang in the air for a moment before taking pity-

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasin’, but you ought to know it’s customary to buy a girl a drink, even if you ain’t planning on laying with her. We all have to make a living, Deputy, and this is my house.”

And you're not sure if it’s out of a sense of gratitude at you relenting your line of questioning or because he has started to enjoy the warmth from your hand on his shoulder, but that’s when he motions for the barkeeper to bring two drinks over to the table.

Your eyes dart over to Minnie, who is sat between two Grays. She throws you an encouraging wink, and you become keenly aware of the four other sets of eyes watching too. This is the furthest any of you has got with this man, and a wave of responsibility washes over you. You are going to earn that $5.25 plus the additional $5 when he fucks you. You feel foolish for ever doubting your ability in the first place. A man is a man, is a man.

“Ethel White”, you hold out your hand “but call me Ettie.”

“Arthur Callahan.”

Arthur.

He nods to the chair across from him as he removes the leather book from the table and puts it away in his satchel. You pull out the chair next to him instead, purposefully pinning him between you and the wall.

“Christ woman, you ain’t coy, are you?” he laughs, removing his hat, revealing a sandy crop of hair.

Without his hat, you are better able to take in the details of his face: the strong brow, the crook of a nose broken one too many times, a smattering of sunspots across his crown. Quite handsome, you think to yourself, a welcome change from the interchangeable looks of the Grays or Braithwaites who make up the bulk of your clientele.

“Not at all,” you smirk. “Besides, I want to take a look at what you were scribbling away at in that book. Must be awfully interesting to hold your attention so well.” You glance down at the journal now peeking out the top of his satchel. “Is that watercolour paper?”

“Huh?”

“Watercolour paper, you know, to stop the paint seeping through and spoiling the rest of the pages? I saw you were drawing and-”

He looks at you then, and you can see a slight flicker of shame cross his face momentarily. The feeling of someone pointing out the unfamiliar to a previously known thing, changing it somehow, making it less your own. You feel guilty. Watching him squirm was fun, but you never intended to make him feel foolish.

“I don’t paint. It’s for sketching mostly, keepin' track of the people and places I’ve been.”

“You do a lot of travelling, Deputy?”

“A bit.”

That instinct again, that there is more to this man than meets the eye. The lawman artist a walking contradiction.

“What do you paint then?”

His question catches you off guard. Men like to be asked about themselves. They rarely ever show interest in you. A prick of heat flushes across your cheeks, and you hope the rouge of false abashment covers its authentic companion. It’s you who is in control here - not him, goddammit. But his face is filled with genuine curiosity, like he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested, and that’s what puzzles you further.

“Um, landscapes mostly, but I prefer painting people.” The words spill out before a filter of allurement or double entendre can be applied. “It’s just difficult to get people to sit for any length of time. Though I’ve painted all the girls here at some point or another.”

“Where’d ya learn?”

And that is a question too far.

You’d been gifted a great many things over the years, some thoughtful, most not, and learned the hard way how easily something given could be taken away. You’re art though, no one could take that. You wondered sometimes if that had been an oversight when you’d been promised lessons. The techniques acquired the only remaining thing worth a damn apart from your horse. Leftovers from another life.

“Don’t change the subject, Deputy. Are you going to show me your sketches or not?” Before you can stop yourself, you are leaning over him to grab at his satchel, totally aware that the danger this man displayed to you only moments earlier still lies just below the surface. With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabs the wrist of your right hand, firm in his warning. Do not push me, girl. But you have never been one to know when to stop. Your eyes are locked onto him as your breath comes in quick and heavy to your chest; You notice his start to slow. He’s read you like a book. Left hand spearing from under the table to meet your secondary attack, pinning it against his thigh.

You look down at your fingers splayed out under the weight of his own. Knuckles scarred and calloused from a lifetime of work not typically required by law enforcement. The warmth from his thigh radiates beneath your palm, and it takes everything in you not to edge your fingers closer to the source of his heat.

He meets you with an expression you struggle to place. Not anger - though you couldn’t blame him if it was. Amusement maybe?

“Think careful about your next move now, Miss. I wouldn't want to have to arrest you for larceny.”

You give him your widest of smiles and look carefully over your shoulder behind you. And as though suddenly clocking the inference of your shared position, Arthur lowers your right hand so it rests on the table rather than in the air. The grip still firm.

“If I let you go, will you behave?”

“Will you show me your drawings?”

“Woman-” But he doesn’t say no.

“I’ll behave.”

He looks at you, trying to figure out whether he trusts you.

“I promise.”

Gaze still set, he experiments loosening the grip on your wrist and then shadows the hand on his thigh - awaiting any sudden movements. You hold still. And for a moment, you see him grapple with himself as though he can’t quite believe what he is about to do. He releases you fully, and you take back your right hand, leaving your left firmly in place.

“Now, if I show you, you gotta promise not to go grabbin'? There’s stuff a man should be able to keep private.”

You nod.

He grins as he bucks his thigh, dislodging your rooted palm.

“Hands behind your back.”

With a playful huff you acquiesce, putting both arms behind you as though bound and look back at him coquettishly. And although he feigns disinterest at the way this new position pushes forward the peak of your chest, you catch his eyes dart across them, guilty in their haste.

He removes the leather-bound journal from his satchel, smoothing open two pages carefully on the table.

“Here. But that’s your lot.”

Spread across both pages is a beautifully rendered sketch of the parlour’s exterior, and you don’t know how to react. He stiffens slightly beside you.

“Just a silly doodle,” he says, moving to close the book. Clearly reading your quietness for disappointment, disgust, something else?

“Wait-”

To see the parlour captured in such effortless detail; The ornate carvings of the porch where you take your morning coffee, the Virginia Creeper that had to be cut back for fear it’d engulf the entire house, the hanging baskets of petunias that Lulu so lovingly tended to - feels exposing in a way you’d not expected. What other unnoticed minutiae had his perceptive eyes picked up on?

“It’s beautiful. You’ve captured it just right.” You half-whisper.

“Ain’t as good as a paintin’.”

“Different thing entirely, but if you can draw like this, I’m sure you’d make a fine painter.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles as you catch sight of Lulu’s permeating glare as she sweeps down the central staircase. You are on the clock. If he’s not biting, move on. And you remember you are not here to discuss painting or art unless it serves your more explicit purpose.

“See that top window at the back?” You make sure to graze his arm as you remove one hand from behind your back, bringing it slowly to the open page.

“That’s my bedroom.”

“Oh?”

“Might you like to come up and see some of my work?”

You can see him contemplating the thought over in his mind, and you start to wonder if there really is some poor woman he is betrothed to… or perhaps your prior insinuation was correct, for you have never met a man so ill at ease at being in close proximity to a woman-

“Mister Callahan!”

You are both pulled away from each other's gaze as you turn to face your intruder. Sheriff Gray. And you are up and on your feet in an instant. Eyes twinkling with faux excitement to welcome this invader of fun, spoiler of all things delightful and new. Arthur straightens to attention.

“I see you’ve met Ettie. Ain’t she a peach? I hope she’s been treatin’ you with all the hospitality we here at Rhodes can offer.” As he slurs his words, it is clear he’s already halfway soaked and once again, you feel Lulu’s watchful eyes on the back of your neck. You have a responsibility to your house, and Sheriff Gray isn’t any regular John. To keep him placated is to keep the house protected, and it is your duty to ensure the Sheriff remains happy and drunk, coddled and empty.

“Oh, stop it!” You coo in his ear, wrapping your arm up tightly in his. Voice layered thick with honey.

The shine on his breath hits like a train, bringing tears to your eyes that you mask by nuzzling your head to his shoulder. He sags heavy on your hip, oblivious.

“You didn’t tell me you’d hired such a handsome new Deputy-''

Arthur shifts in his seat, and you wonder what detail of your performance his observant eyes have picked up on.

“You keepin’ secrets from me, Sheriff? Or do you just want me all to yourself?”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.” Sheriff Gray hiccups and turns to face Arthur. “Do you mind if I accompany the lady upstairs?”

Arthur stands, towering over the Sheriff by quite some measure and places his hat back atop his head.

“Course not. You both enjoy your evening. I’ve to be headin' back anyway.”

For a second, your eyes meet Arthur’s, but his expression is impenetrable. The Sheriff speaks again.

“Safe travels, Deputy. Rhodes is honoured to have such honest men like you and Mr Mackintosh about. Your work rootin’ out that shine is already being felt around the county.”

Arthur nods. The effects of the shine are certainly being felt.

He hiccups again. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“Don’t be a stranger.” You repeat, all traces of the sickly sweet affect gone from your voice. You yip as the Sheriff swats your backside, but you keep your head high, eyes still held on this curious lawman artist.

Don’t be a stranger.

“Miss.” Deputy Callahan touches the brim of his hat as you lead Sheriff Gray upstairs to your room.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #painted red

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inkskinned · 2 years

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he tells me i'm jaded. he says - you love showers so much, why not stand in a rainstorm instead?

rainstorms have a potential to take down tree branches. they're unregulated. they get my clothes wet. in the time of my grandparents, maybe it would be more romantic. it's a drought where i live. the rain that comes down is sullen, yellow with pollution. i bite half my nails off reading about climate predictions. i stand in the shower and shift from one foot to the other, feeling annoyed with myself because i care about all of this, of course, but as a climate scientist i'm functionally useless.

he says - the color is all gone from the world! people used to like bright things. what happened to all of us?

i feel like rich people love minimalism differently. they like to remind others - i don't really need things. they can afford to have-less. they don't need to worry about buying extra; they can just get it later.

my car is silver so in 5 years after paying back the loan i might be able to sell it, if i don't hurt it too bad and if i don't drive it too hard, and if luck is in my corner. it's just a simple sedan, nothing-special. i guess i'm technically borrowing it from the bank. i can't really-decorate my apartment; i don't own it. i am not going to be able to afford a house any time soon. i would love to make my walls a wash of bright color - but i'd lose my deposit.

my clothes are all in neutrals; classic cuts that have very little fuss or personality attached to them. i worry about fast fashion and my finances; i want to be sure that i can wear the shirt in the future without feeling stupid and out-of-touch. the other day i finally tore through a pair of shorts i've had for about ten years now. i went home and tried to figure out how to repurpose the denim. how to make everything last a little longer. i sometimes will try on something trendy and cool and colorful - and then i pick out something i know will last me a long time instead. muted, conservative, unimpressive.

he says - the real world is waiting! everyone is so obsessed with their phones these days. go outside, connect with your friends!

it costs twenty dollars to go on the guided tour. they don't let you into the conservatory without a 320 dollar yearly membership. i come up with a spreadsheet, trying to figure out where my friends have schedule openings that overlap with mine. we both frown over our calendars - can't do thursday that week, anything in two weeks? there's no train, it costs forty dollars in transportation for her to come over; but i miss her, so i venmo her. we both bemoan the fact that there's just no way to get around without a car.

i am actually a full-blooded romantic. i am actually someone who truly and deeply believes in hope and the future of humanity. i am a poet, after all - i write because i believe someone out there, like me, is watching the world crumble while nursing a broken heart. i believe that most of us want to be kind, to be good, to turn our cheeks to the sky and be contented and warm.

it just feels like - there's this strange, brewing storm. where people with money and power and prestige get to say - hope is a yacht, just hop on and go.

and all us jaded, horrible little still-here tear-stained cockroaches, who croak and complain about global injustice: we don't accept it. we make our lives beautiful with whatever we can wrestle out of stone. we clutch our diaries and our sunflowers and our songs to our chest. ugly and hurting, we snarl - hope isn't yours though. it's ours.

it's all we have left.

#does this make even a lick of sense.#this is like .#optimistic pessimism idek #warm up

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neteyamsluvr111 · 6 months

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[aged up] Neteyam x Afab!Metkayina!Reader

Mature Content ahead.

Wc: 1142

!Sfw!

— Neteyam is not a jealous guy at heart, but he does sometimes have his moments of insecurities. Though, he doesn't otherwise fully express them to you because he knows they don't matter, and you love him regardless.

— Neteyam loves the way you smell. In his words, you smell like the first day of Spring, fresh rain after a long summer of drought, flowers, sunshine, and him.

— Neteyam compliments you every chance he gets, and when he has to leave before he could properly say goodbye to you (I.e when you are asleep) he writes them down on pieces of cloth and leaves them for you to find.

— Physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of survive are all his love languages and the love languages he needs from his partner.

— i.e He needs to be touching you at all times, may it be a tail around your calf or a hand splayed across your lower back. He feels he must express how much he loves you, but sometimes words aren't even enough. So, he does things for you; i.e make or have someone make the finest jewelries, hunt the finest foods, make your home as comfortable as possible, etcetera.

— Neteyam wants a large family, like he had growing up. (Maybe five or six) But he doesn't want his children to have to be born in the aftermath in war, so he wants to wait a few more years until he's sure they can be born and not have to worry like he and his siblings had.

— going back to the first hc, he feels sometimes inferior to the Metkayina men for their size compared to him (although, he takes after his father and gains muscle pretty easily)

— he has violent nightmares from the night he almost died.

He'll wake up in a cold sweat, tears quickly forming and spilling from his bright eyes, harsh sobs racking his body as his hands violently try to grasp at the still very apparent gunshot scar along his hard chest. In times like those, only you or his family can soothe him.

— The nightmares usually result in violent panic attacks as well.

You still remember the first time it happened, being woken up by the sounds of someone choking. Looking over to see your lover seemingly panicking and grasping at his throat. You'd rush over, gasping loudly and trying to see what was wrong. You were calling out his name, trying to get his attention but it was like he couldn't even see you. Finally, after delicately placing your hand upon his cheek did he finally look up and see you. That's when the tears came, streaming down his pale face as he tried to express that he couldn't breathe, trying to call out your name in stuttered gasps.

You didn't know what was happening, no one in the Metkayina had ever had something like this happen to them in the years you was alive. You quickly ran to Lo'ak and Tsireya's tent, waking the boy up and telling him something was wrong with Neteyam. Everything that happened after was a blur to you.

— After one night when you and Neteyam had a harsh fight, the both of you completely ignored each other due to stubbornness and went to sleep angry. Neteyam now knows, after he didn't get a wink of sleep and nearly spent the night forcing himself not to wake you up and beg you for forgiveness, to never let it happen again.

— He only lets you give him tattoos after he does something worthy of one. He finds it to be an intimate moment that should only be shared between the both of you. And it's an excuse to stare at you for hours and demand attention.

— On a drunken night out with Lo'ak, Aonung, Rotxo and a few other friends, Neteyam gets your name sloppily tattooed on the skin of his side, under his armpit. That was fun to explain to you and his parents.

His mother damn near gouged his eyes out, his father was doubled over in laughter, tears pricking his eyes from how hard he was laughing, and you were loudly scolding Neteyam's brother and friends for getting so drunk and allowing it to happen.

— His nicknames for you are endless, ranging from Na'vi to even English. His favorites are baby and sweetheart, because he loves how you giggle at the foreign sounds of it. He never actually tells you what they mean in Na'vi, but you know they are endearing.

— Neteyam fell first and harder.

— Before you started dating, and he was too much of a puss to tell you his feelings, he'd confess how he feels about you quietly in English; knowing you didn't understand him. It was a bittersweet feeling for him, but sometimes he felt like he would explode if he didn't spend every waking moment in your presence telling you, so this was his solution.

!NSFW!

— He's a pleaser at heart. Anything you want, he'd do it for you, and with sexual intimacy it was no different.

— he loves holding your hand, no matter the position. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head every time he feels your fingers squeeze around his when you release around him.

— his favorite positions are both reverse cowgirl and doggy. Quite basic, but true. If he wants it to be extra intimate; missionary or 'cuddling'

— he's a switch. He doesn't mind being in control and he doesn't mind you being in control. It's usually whatever you want they night and he's up for it always.

— when he is in control, expect it to be very intimate.

— He's a praiser. He's a body worshiper.

— he's doesn't like degradation especially aimed toward you, but if you really beg for it, he might sprinkle in a gruff "My prettiest whore," or a "My perfect slut," but never anything more.

— He groans a lot and sometimes even slips out small whimpers. He’s quite vocal when you ask him to be, otherwise he’s pretty quiet because he wants to focus on the sounds of you and your wetness.

— when he's close, he starts to speak whatever is on his mind which is usually him just telling you how perfect you are for him and how Eywa graced him so much and he doesn't know how to repay her or why she had blessed him so much.

— When he's especially close, he begs you to tell him you love him. Like, begs you. "Please, please, baby, say it one more time, please—" It’s the only way he’ll allow himself to cum.

— His aftercare is godly and unmatched. He’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear, he’s cleaning you up, he’s feeding you sweet refreshing fruits, the whole nine yards.

— Safe to say, Neteyam is the perfect lover all around.

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam #x reader #female reader #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar: the way of water

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malewifesband · 3 months

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Here is a Labru fic I wrote over the last week or so. Post-canon. Extremely sexually explicit, 18+ only please. Trans male Kabru, and yes, Laios is a little chasery about it--be honest, you should expect this of him. 7.5k words.

Summary: With Marcille and Falin both gone temporarily from the castle*, Kabru and Laios have had a high workload, and the stress has started to get to them. Kabru has an ingenious solution to relieve stress, but Laios is not so sure it's a good idea: his feelings for Kabru are confused enough without adding the concept of platonic dick-touching to the mix.

*Will be followed up on in its own fic.

This and future fics will be filed under the tag #the compendium; because I dont like any fanfic sites.

Lots of things seemed to demand Laios' time: a deluge of common folk with grievances and indignant nobles angry at their recent vassalage and farm owners who didn't like whatever ordinance Laois had passed to increase food production because they didn't want to milk minotaurs and still more peasants complaining about the farmer he just saw, and on and on, forever, without end, it would rain pissed off subjects for forty days and forty nights and Laios could drown in the all the information they wanted him to track. Kingship was a nightmare.

He could and would say it was worth the pain to see when his plans succeed and happy faces of people whose lives were improved, but in honesty what actually made it bearable was the company and help of Falin, Marcille, and Kabru. Falin and Marcille were wonderful court mages and fantastic researchers, who made all his stupid ideas into real, actionable policy, and Kabru… Kabru helped him get even that far. It was incredible how quickly he would catch onto complex social dynamics and dissect them, remix them into something Laios could parse, and whisper it to him on the throne. All without missing the next beat.

And for the past month, he’s been over-relying on Kabru, and neither of them have been able to get away from the castle. Marcille and Falin have been having a rough patch, and decided they needed time together away from the castle. Which of course, Laios let them go take a vacation–he owed them that much. But while they've been away, tensions have exploded. The resurfacing of the Golden Continent has lead to droughts across the land as crop fields used to an abundance of rain from the coastline suddenly found themselves far inland, and foreign land holders were demanding compensation, and of course their rulers backed them as it meant they would not have to pay to feed the victims of an impending famine. (And no one seemed willing to farm monsters to eat despite their abundance. Close-minded jerks–it’s a necessity!)

The ordeal has been taxing on them both, and Maybe Kabru more than Laios. He’d been taking dinner in his quarters the last two days, and he's been standing about a foot further from the throne than he was before. Odd little distances from Laios he didn't take before. Laios feels like he's barely seen him in a week. He’d reminded him to eat and sleep plenty, and Kabru insisted that he had been. Laios wasn't sure what else he could really do.

A line of delegates had been leaving the dining room, a late meeting over dinner that perhaps no one wanted to have, one night when Kabru leaned in again, just as the door closed, and said, “Laios, can I talk to you about something, man to man?”

Laios was not sure how else they were meant ro talk, being as they were both men and thus couldn't talk, say, woman to woman or dog to dog, but he replied, “Sure, what's up?”

Kabru’s face darkened. “Not here. Let's talk in your chambers. I’ll meet you there in 30 minutes.”

It didn't feel like a long wait. He’d only really started to settle down when Kabru knocked at the door.

“Come in,” He called, kicking off his boots. Kabru entered, smiled at him, and then turned to bolt the door behind him. He took a deep breath and turned back to face Laios.

“You know I love this job,” he says.

“That’s great–” Laios starts to exclaim, but Kabru holds up a finger to silence him

“BUT. I have no time for women anymore, and it's been… frustrating.”

“What about Rin? She's a woman,” he said. She was pretty and they seemed pretty close.

“That's very true, Laois, Rin is a woman, but she's also like a sister to me. I could never date her.”

“Do you want time off?” He couldn't imagine running things without him, and Yaad insists that because he doesn't know how long he'll last in this world, that he should refrain from interfering so they do not depend too much on his service when he finally passes… Surely though, he’d be okay with filling in for Kabru for a couple of days? Maybe best not to tell him it's so Kabru can go on dates.

“No, it's not a real solution,” he says. He takes a deep breath, and his face flushes, getting darker again. “I don't think I could get away enough to meet my needs, I’d still be sexually frustrated.”

People get mad at you if you suggest they just go to a brothel for an hour or so, so Laios doesn't say that. Instead he tries, “You could invite a girl over for dinner, that seems like a cool date: dinner in a castle!”

The flush darkened.

“That's too serious. I’m not really looking for a girlfriend right now, not with how much work there is to do.” He averted his eyes from Laios' face, and crossed his arms.

“We could have an informal dinner–”

“Laios.” he said, firmly, like calling on a misbehaving dog. Something about that thought made Laios' heart flutter.”I’m trying to ask something of you. Please don't make any suggestions yet.”

He looked sweaty.

“Okay.”

He took another deep breath.

“I think it'd be easiest if we masturbated each other.”

Woah. Laois’ face fell into shock, open mouthed and wide-eyed like a fish gasping on deck.

“C-couldn't you just do that alo–”

Once again, Kabru cut him off, this time by touching his elbow.

“You’ve been pent up too,” he said softly, a small smile on his face, which had an odd effect with him still being flushed and sweaty.

Laios had been trying to pay attention to Kabru the way Kabru pays attention to others (it seemed fair to do that for him when he does it for everyone else), and so he knew this was the manner he talked to people he wanted to convince of something they already said they didn't want. In 15 instances of him doing this, Laios had seen him succeed 11 times. It seemed to work by making himself seem nonthreatening–he leans forward in a way that makes him smaller and exposes the neck, and his voice becomes quieter, almost like a purr, and he always smiles but never broadly in a way that shows his teeth.

He was starting to wonder how instance 16 would turn out. So he went quiet while Kabru went on.

“You’ve been as moody as I have, and I know what incredible stress you've been under with Marcille and Falin away, and your other friends unable to visit… We need to find a way for you to relax, and I promise it’ll be more satisfying if you let someone else touch you.”

That much, Laios knew, was true. Like trying to give yourself a hug, there was a certain sensation that was lacking–maybe the warmth of another person, or the fact that you can feel both the skin of your hand and the skin of your penis/body pressed together that makes it less powerful. He didn't have a ton of experience though, none of it with other men–though maybe that was for the best, since Kabru was not like other men and Laios was unsure what exactly to expect from him, genitally speaking. And all of his experiences had been transactional. And not that great.

Honestly, trying to navigate this strange social experience sounded far more stressful than a good orgasm could relieve. Just the thought of trying to figure out where to put his hands and at what point is it sex and can you have sex with your friends and just be friends and and and–

The hand at his elbow slid up to his bicep, and Kabru's other hand slipped around his opposite wrist.

“Tell me what's on your mind, Laios,” he said, gentle and firm.

“Do you have a cock? I’ve never held another man's cock and wouldn't it just be sex either way?” he answered all in a rush, heat rising from his neck to the tops of his ears. Kabru's grip tightened and then relaxed again.

“Yes and no to both,” he said.

“Wait, yes or no to which?”

“Yes and no to both,” he repeated, “If I have a cock depends on what you're asking for, and it's only sex if we say it is and we are saying it's not! It's not as complicated as you're making it out to be.”

Laios disagreed–this was already complicated. It seemed it would only get more complicated if they went through with it. And maybe even more complicated than that if they didn't after this conversation.

“I’ll be gentle, Laios, you're not the first virgin I’ve been with,” he said with a little laugh.

“Hm? I’m not a virgin,” Laios stated.

Kabru's eyes widened a bit, eyebrows raised.

“You… aren't? You had a girlfriend?”

Laios shook his head. “I had a fiancee, but I didn't really know her.”

Kabru exhaled loudly.

“You know what, it doesn't matter. You just need to tell me if you want to try it out.”

Laois really wasn't sure. Something about the whole concept seemed off, but maybe it was just that it felt so sudden and out of the blue. Maybe Kabru had been thinking about it a while, and this really was his best solution. He pictured Kabru calm and content, like how he looks when he takes his tea in the morning before the stress of the day creeps in. If it was really what would make him happy, it didn't seem right to deny him.

“Kabru…” he said low, unsure how to voice what was on his mind.

Kabru's hand slid into his. It was warm. Comforting.

“Yes?”

“Is this really what you want? You're not just asking me because you think I’d want it?”

This question was apparently very funny. He chuckled, then let his face spread into a grin, and laughed heartily. His hand stayed in Laois' and the one at his bicep grabbed at his shoulder now as if to support him.

“I am doing my best to convince you this is a good idea, and you're worried I just think you want it! Do you see how silly that sounds?” he said once his giggle fit wore down.

“I guess,” Laios replied, “But you lied about wanting to eat monsters.”

“I wasn't the one convincing you to eat them, though.”

“I still don't get how it's not just sex though.”

“Think of it as platonic sex between friends if you must then, just don't go telling people we're having sex or they'll get the wrong idea. Actually, please just keep this secret in general.”

Why does sex always have to be some secret thing no one should know about?

Content that Kabru really did want to have not-sex with him (and now discontented with many other things), Laios was ready to give his answer: “Okay, we can do this.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Kabru started leading him to the bed.

“Oh you meant now,” he said.

“Did you… did you want to wait?” Kabru said cautiously. Their hands were still held together. Warm. Comforting. If none of the rest of this was fun, Laios would like to start holding hands with him more at least.

“Now is as good a time as any,” he answered.

“Because it’d make you nervous anticipating it otherwise.”

It wasn't a question, because if Kabru says something about what you think, it's usually because you did and he knows it. And it would make Laois nervous, sitting on his throne, listening to all those people, and having Kabru lean over him all day knowing what they'd be doing later. Which makes it sound very erotic, too. But in that romantic story way where you can just skip over the part where you have to do a lot that day and it'd be weird and honestly kind of strenuous to just be horny all day long: i.e. not actually all that erotic.

Then again, that last hour of waiting…

“Laios, sit on the bed, please.”

He sat on the bed as commanded, while Kabru put out the lights. Perhaps the dark made it less like sex. He left one dim candle and returned.

There was a poof as Kabru sank into the feather mattress beside him. It was quiet for a second.

It felt like Laios should say something, but what? It felt like all the thoughts had emptied from his brain, it was overwhelming, something was about to happen and it felt as dark inside his head as it did in the room. Like a flickering something in the back of his skull that he couldn't look straight at or it would blind him, but it was too dim to reveal anything else on its own.

“I’m going to undress. You should too, let's not overtax the launderer.”

Commands were good. He could follow commands. He stripped off his doublet and shirt sleeves–he had already ditched his finery as soon as he could get away with it–and started unlacing his breeches. His eyes were quickly adjusting to the dim glow, and now he could see Kabru’s outline.

His shirt was off, and he was bent double to remove his own shoes, showing off his back. He was lean, but you could see the strength in him, like a runner or a gymnast. He sat up, shoes tossed aside, and suddenly bucked his hips, and his pants and underwear dragged down his legs. With a little kick, they too lay discarded in the dark and leaving Kabru’s crotch exposed. Thick pubic hair shined there, but no external genitalia that Laios could see, at least not at this angle.

He was actually very curious about it. Certain monsters endogenously change their sex, such as Basilisks and some varieties of Merrow, under certain environmental or social pressures. Sometimes even due to unique genetics not found in others of their species! Kabru had said that he’d been taking a masculinizing hormone since he was old enough to start puberty naturally (apparently elves were rather accepting about such change), so he didn't develop breasts, but what effect that has on human genitalia, Laios was uncertain of. The monsters he knew of that could transition naturally did not have human-analogous genitalia, so he couldn't really conjecture.

“Your breeches are still halfway down your thighs, your majesty,” Kabru said. He laughed.

“Um. Sorry…” Laios hurriedly finished undressing.

And then it was still again.

“We don't have to do this if you don't want to,” he said. They were almost shoulder to shoulder, close enough that Laios could sense his nearness of him by the radiating warmth alone. He felt cold sitting there naked. He wanted to get closer. He didn't know how.

“...I do want to. I just…” he muttered. Kabru didn't prompt him to continue. Instead he put his arm around his shoulders and waited. After a second, he found the words to say, “I feel like I don't know what to do here, or what you want from me. I don't –I don't want you to not like it.”

“You can start by not trying to ogle me,” he replied.

“O-oh, sorry! I just want to know about how sex transitions work for humans! You see, a basilisk hen can become a rooster under specific circumstances, but they have cloaca, so their external genitalia remains the same, and it's similar for merrows, which you might know as the fish-type of merman–though I suppose you could use certain kinds of healing spells to create a penis and testes if you wanted one–”

“Laios, my friend, can we please focus on the task at hand?”

He sounded angry but didn't pull his arm away.

“Sorry! I’m nervous!”

Kabru sighed deeply again.

“If you need me to tell you what to do, then I will. But you better do it the way I tell you. And if you do…” he leaned in closer, the whisper of his breath grazing Laios' ear, “then I will enjoy it. Understood?”

A lump had just formed in his throat, so Laios could only nod once, animated enough for three.

“Good. I’m going to start by touching you. Try to stay still or lean against me.”

The hand at his shoulder began kneading there–at first it was a dull ache, but it soon began to melt into that warmth-comfort that being held by Kabru felt like. He groaned. Kabru's other hand snaked around his waist, more caressing than the deeper massage at the shoulder.

“You carry a lot of tension lately.” Kabru's voice was so quiet, and spoke directly in Laios' ear now, not an inch between them.

The kneading hand moved from the flesh of his shoulder to his neck. His fingers would press gently against his carotid, and the intimacy of it felt exciting. Like a wolf exposing his neck to his packmates, an ultimate show of trust. ‘You could kill me, but I know you wouldn't because of how much I matter to you.’

His nails dragged against his skin, just barely catching as he pulled his fingers back.

Kabru rested his head against Laios' back, nuzzling the nape of his neck, making his hair stand up. The caressing at his waist became firm, then Kabru dug his thumb into the hollow of his hip. Laois' cock twitched.

With excruciating langor, Kabru pushed that thumb down towards his groin, to the crook of his thigh. His knuckles brushed against his shaft as he began rubbing his inner thigh. The increasing tightness in his groin was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Should we kiss?” Laios blurted out.

Kabru paused his ministrations. And that was agonizing too.

“You want to kiss me?” he asked.

“It feels like we should be.”

He started rubbing his thigh again, but on the top of it, not the hypersensitive area near his half-erect cock.

“...We can try it,” Kabru answered. He spoke so slowly and softly, it was more like he was talking to Laois' shoulder than to Laios proper.

He pulled his hand away from Laios' thigh and cupped his jaw instead. Laios turned towards him, and tried to mirror him, bringing a hand to cup Kabru's face too.

It felt incredible to touch him, it made him feel silly that he hadn't been touching him before now. His skin felt so soft, with a hint of the roughness of stubble down his jaw. He rubbed his thumb over the apple of his cheek, where the flesh was plumpest. He wondered how Kabru's lips would feel.

He didn't wonder long.

Kabru pulled him closer by the nape of his neck until their lips pressed together. The feeling was difficult to describe: Kabru's lips felt soft against his, pillowy, but also a bit rough because they were a bit chapped, like he hadn't had enough water, but it wasn't really those qualities that seemed to matter most–it was this almost electrical feeling, like a static shock that surged through him through his heart to the base of his spine. Laois threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of Kabru's neck, enjoying the silky texture, and tried to deepen the kiss, get more of this feeling–

Clack!

Their teeth clashed and Kabru drew away quickly. He took his hand back from Laios' thigh to tend his teeth.

“Try to walk before you can run,” he hissed behind his hand.

“What does that mean? You're trying to have us masturbate each other and I’m just trying to kiss!”

“If you want to stop–”

“No, I don't want to stop! I just want you to make sense!”

“You are so frustrating!” he cried and fell back on the bed.

It just doesn't make sense! There was some essential divide between the way Kabru was acting and what he was saying and it bothered Laios. For once, he didn't feel like he’d done something wrong here. Except hurting his teeth (his own ached a little too).

“I’m sorry I hurt your teeth,” he said.

“It's fine.” He didn't sit back up.

“Can you please tell me what it is you actually want? None of this makes sense to me. You say you're sexually frustrated, you need to get laid, but we don't tell me to touch you or how you want it–”

“I was going to when I was ready.”

“You couldn't wait to do this, I don't believe that if your goal was quid-pro-quo orgasm, you wouldn't want to go first.”

“And why is that so unbelievable that I’d want you to cum first?”

“I don't know, it was just weird how you were making it all romantic and sensual but you say you don't want it to be romantic.”

He still wasn't getting up, so Laios fell back with him. Now they were both laying down with their legs hung over the side. Laios' erection flopped onto his belly.

“I can't believe you're still hard right now,” Kabru huffs.

“I can't control it, it does what it wants,” he answered.

Kabru chuckled, but then went quiet. Laios wasn't sure what to say. He hoped he hadn't ruined it–he really was enjoying it.

Laios turned towards him on the bed, to look at him, and said, “It’s fun, even though I feel like I don't understand you.”

Kabru didn't turn to face him, he stayed on his back, looking up at the ceiling. But he did talk again.

“I’m sorry. I–I don't know why I thought this was a good idea.” He sounded upset.

Laios grabbed his hand, and hoped that it felt as nice to Kabru as it felt for him.

“Laios…” he said, squeezing his hand, “I think I like you. Romantically, not just as a friend. I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

And that… That made more sense.

“Why didn't you just say something?”

“I’ve tried so many times and the words just die in my throat! Do you know how hard this is? I’ve never liked guys before and now I do and it's you! You, who I spend so much time with and none of it alone–the few times I’ve gotten you alone and tried to flirt or drop a hint or anything, you just don't seem to get it! And then I get so nervous about how to get through to you, I feel ill.”

“You weren't actually sick?!”

That made Kabru turn around. He slapped his hand to Laios' cheek and pulled.

“Focus, stupid!” he said.

“Okay, okay!”

His hold released. But the hand stayed. Laios couldn't help but smile: it really was nice.

“I like it when you touch me,” he said, realized how that sounded, and corrected, “Not just sexually but all the time,” realized how that might sound also, “But I’d like it if you touched me more just maybe as like a boyfriend instead of whatever it is you were doing before!”

Kabru pulled closer to him again–another kiss. This time, Laios let him do what he wanted. It was tender, it sent a shiver through Laios to try not grab him like he was trying to devour him whole, but he couldn't stop himself from cupping his hand over Kabru's and squeezing tight.

Too soon, Kabru pulled away again. He pressed his forehead to Laios' so the tips of their noses touched.

“I’ll fuck you as a boyfriend then,” he purred.

The blood rushed back to Laios’ dick so fast that it left him dizzy.

“Just lie like that a minute, I need to grab something.”

He did as he was told, but he did peek.

The candlelight only offered a glimpse of Kabru's silhouette as he got up and knelt by his bag–Laios hadn't noticed he'd brought one. He dug around, and Laios heard the clink of glass against glass. When he stood back up, he held a bottle, some larger, translucent object Laios couldn't make out, and what looked like a bunch of leather straps, and he held something else behind his back. He placed the leather straps and the glass bottle on the end table, and held out the larger object. It was a glass phallus, complete with textured bumps and a tapered end to keep it in place once inside someone. It was fairly small, as phalluses go, but it looked like it would feel perfect inside you.

“Get up on the pillows, and lie on your back.”

He scooched up and fluffed the pillows.

“Can you guess what I'm going to do with this?” he asked, very cheerily.

“Um. Put it in me?” He’d typically used his fingers when touching himself, and didn't have something as nice as this.

“Wrong! I'm putting this one in me–though if you ask nicely, I might let you do it. But this–” he pulled his hidden hand from behind his back. Held in his grasp was something Laios had never seen before. It was certainly also a phallus, certainly human shaped (complete with balls), but of a material he’d never encountered–not glass, nor the stuffed leather ones they sell in sex shops with the irritating looking stitches, but something stiff yet flexible enough to bend with the incredible girth of the thing. Maybe rubber? You couldn't easily get rubber on this continent since the trees won't grow here–it must've been expensive.

“This is the one I want to put in you.”

Laios gasped.

“That thing is massive! Are you sure?!”

He put the smaller one on the end table, and dropped the big one on the bed, letting it fwump and roll into Laois' side as he got busy putting on his harness. Laios was quickly coming to understand what he meant by ‘I have a cock depending on what you're asking for’. He meant to thrust it inside him like any guy with one growing out of his crotch could.

“Calm down, Laios. I’m not going to just shove it in there. I'm just putting it on, for the feel of it. We’ll stretch you out first.”

Laois could feel himself blush from head to toe. His unattended cock twitched painfully, but he didn't dare touch himself before Kabru got back on the bed and touched him first.

Thankfully the buckling and snapping came to an end. Kabru leaned over to grab the massive dildo, and secured it in place. The straps dug into the flesh around his hips and thighs, and wrapped around the base of the cock and the balls, almost fusing it to him. He uncorked the bottle and poured some of the liquid into his palm, then began stroking himself with it.

“The natural rubber can catch skin and hair if left dry, and it's really uncomfortable. This will help it feel more natural, and we’ll apply more once you're ready of course.”

“Can you get back on the bed now?” Laios said impatiently.

“Ah, now that you're thinking of me ‘like a boyfriend’ you know exactly what you want?” he said.

“Yes! I thought we were clear on that. Do we have to talk more? I’d really rather you touch me again,” he replied, increasingly aggravated every second Kabru was keeping him waiting like this wasn't his idea.

“I don't think I understand you,” he said, but to his credit he was on the bed now, “Any time I try to tease you and flirt with you, it blows up. I say the most humiliating thing I’ve ever said, completely lose my composure, and that's what works. Everytime.”

Laios huffed. He really thought they'd gotten over this by now. He grabbed Kabru's wrist and pulled him closer.

“Just say the thing that you mean first, and you won't be so embarrassed later. Fucking hell,” he said as Kabru toppled on top of him.

Kabru got back up, supporting himself by one elbow as he readjusted his cock, which was currently trying to rut itself into the crease between Laios' thigh and hip.

“Fine, here's my true feelings: you are such an ass.” He slapped his dick down on top of Laios' and dropped down, squeezing them between their bodies and winding Laios. He tried to moan, but with all the air pushed out of his lungs (on purpose!), all he could manage was a gasp.

“You still *gasp* like me though, right?”

He didn't answer, he just nuzzled into Laios' shoulder, kissing the skin where it joined the neck, and then slowly rocked his hips. He wasn't really expecting what it felt like–maybe it would've felt like a handjob did, but it didn't. It felt gentler than that, gentler than the constricted feeling of penetrating someone, yet with firm pressure on his sensitive shaft and head. The weight of Kabru on top of him, pressing their bodies together, felt incredible. He whimpered, his arms moving on their own to hold Kabru around the waist.

“Now you're the one who doesn't make sense. Be more confident that I like you even though I think you're a stupid asshole.”

Laios gasped again and turned to putty–Kabru picked up the pace and kissed his neck in earnest. Laois wanted to wrap his legs around him too, just take every part of him into himself, just absorb him, but Kabru's hands at his hips were locking him in place, and it would take an extreme force of will to try lifting them when it risked Kabru letting go. He went faster, and faster, kissing and tonguing his neck, until–

Kabru stopped abruptly, panting a little (Laois panted a lot). His dick throbbed with need.

“Don’t stop now…!” he whined.

Kabru sat up on his heels.

“I have a mission, Laios,” he said. He leaned over to grab the bottle of lube. He uncorked it, poured more in his palm, recorked it one-handed and put it back. With much squelching and spurting, he lubed up all five of his fingers and the palm too. He positioned himself so that his thighs created a wedge pillow for Laios' hips to rest on. Then, he pulled him up. Kabru's strength was always impressive–but maybe it was more his familiarity with the human body and how it moves, and how to use its natural points of leverage against someone–or for them, if he was about to fuck them in the ass–and that was even more impressive.

It was lucky that Laios tended to keep himself clean to facilitate his own masturbation, because Kabru didn't seem to think about that at all. He took a deep breath and got ready for what he expected next.

Probing finger number one entered, hooked upwards to seek out his prostate. He stroked in and out until he found it, and hit it hard. Precum shot from the tip of his dick. His sphincter clenched from the sudden excessive stimulation.

“Agh! Don't be so rough!”

“Sorry,” he said in his sweetest voice, “I was having fun.”

With a much gentler hand, he stroked it slowly. Once Laios relaxed again, he inserted a second finger. He rubbed at that hollow of his hips as he stroked, then began scissoring his fingers, a little wider each time. he was methodical, trying to work him out as fast as he could. Laios grabbed for his free hand again–he missed how comfortable it was beneath him, and it felt like all he could do was anticipate when Kabru would decide to come down to him again. He put in the third finger.

All of this felt so new, mostly because it was. He’d never had anyone else inside of him, even if he’d done it himself regularly. He’d had sex, but not with a close friend, not with someone who he enjoyed clinging to like slime. It was nerve-wracking, it was exciting, it was a fourth finger squeezing inside.

Kabru whistled.

“To be honest Laios, I was not actually confident I’d be able to get it in tonight, but it seems we will. Good job.”

“Th-thanks,” he said hoarsely. He’d been moaning nonstop for the last ten minutes, so his voice was about spent.

Kabru kept thrusting his fingers, brushing Laois' prostate on every third plunge in exactly, never really letting Laios lose himself in the rhythm of it, or letting him go ahead and cum. He got down to the last knuckle of his hand, and stretched all four fingers inside wide.

“You have definitely done this before,” he said.

“Um, just–ahhh–just to myself.”

Slowly he closed his fingers and withdrew them.

“I think you're ready. Now you get to get me ready.”

Once again, he returned to the end table, pulled the bottle of lube and the much smaller dildo. He handed them to Laios, who had sat up to see what he was doing.

Kabru laid back on his elbows, and lifted his legs to give Laios better access to his crotch.

“Put some lube on that and stretch me out a little so you can put it in,” he said.

Laios rubbed the dildo with the lube, making sure to coat his fingers as he did so.

“Bend down to get to me,” he instructed.

So Laios bent over, ducking the monstrous cock he was going to be taking very soon, and at this angle he could get a good look at Kabru's anatomy.

He had been wrong about the lack of external genitalia–his clitoris hung outside of the labia majora, engorged and standing at half-attention despite the weight of the skin and fat sitting above it.

“Yours is huge,” he said, awestruck. He touched it, holding it between two fingers, stroking it not unlike how he would the tip of his own and eliciting a moan from Kabru. He wondered what it would feel like against his tongue. “Could I suck it? Just for a minute?”

Kabru went very still for a second.

“Please do.”

Laios dove for it, using one arm to support himself, and the other to feel what he couldn't see in the dark, and letting the showy dildo flop onto his head. He took it into his mouth, licking the underside with the flat of his tongue and pressing it into his pallet. He had neither sucked dick nor eaten pussy before, so he couldn't truly compare, but he liked that Kabru's…–well, it should be fine to call it a cock even if there was a much larger artificial one above, dirtying his hair right now–Kabru’s cock was almost exactly a mouthful. It made it easy to loll it about on his tongue, testing the weight and density of it. And all his play seemed to be working wonderfully for Kabru–his thighs shook and his breathing was a bit shallow. He found a rhythm he liked and focused on using his fingers now. He spread apart the lips, and tried to finger him.

His head was unceremoniously pushed away. The heavy dildo flopped down onto the bed.

“You haven't fingered anyone before, have you?” Kabru asked, voice a little shaky.

“Ummm… No.”

Kabru just nodded.

“I’ll show you another time. You won't stay stretched forever,” he said, scratching at Laios' scalp for a second before continuing to push him away, “Go on, lay back as you were.”

He picked up the smaller dildo–which Laios had forgotten in his eagerness–and slowly worked it into himself. Once it was in, he left it there, no further fussing with it. He instead turned his attention back to Laios and his splayed legs. But instead of wedging himself under Laios again, he climbed over him, straddling one of his thighs, and said, “You still have to finish lubing it up, though.”

With a sweet smile, he passed the bottle to Laios again, who uncorked it while he stared down the massive, heavy battering ram strapped to his royal advisor. He poured the viscous substance directly onto the shaft of it and passed the bottle back to Kabru to deal with. He took it in both hands, pumping it slowly, being sure to fully coat it. Kabru hummed in contentment.

“Can I ask something?” Laios said, careful not to stop his work as he talked.

“Hm? Sure, go on,” he answered. He sounded almost blissful.

“If you can't feel it, why do you enjoy this?”

“Um. I suppose…I just like to watch.

“So you’d like it if I sucked this one too?”

Laios could see his Adam's apple bob in the dim light.

“Yes. Yes, I would. But stay focused, please,” he said. He stayed Laios' hands.

In a few swift motions, Laios' ass was back in Kabru's lap, the head of his dick pressed against his sphincter. That slim and strong body holding him in place, readying to fuck him–Laios figured he could understand why Kabru liked watching his partners. It felt good to know you made someone else enjoy themself; it made him feel sexy to see Kabru so focused on him.

Man, he really didn't get to feel sexy often. People didn't seem to really desire him like that. Granted, it's been uncomfortable a lot of the times he's noticed someone else was interested in him, though he wasn't sure why. Why should they be interested in a body like this? There was nothing cool or special about it. It just was. It didn't feel sexy.

So then why did Kabru liking him feel different?

The head pressed past the ring of his asshole, spreading him wide all at once. He inhaled sharply, his legs reflexively tightened around Kabru, forcing him in deeper. Kabru caught himself before he pushed too far too fast. He kept his pace slow and Laios tried to hold his legs still, but couldn't stop the way they twitched. Soon, the head brushed against his prostate. The sheer girth of it as it moved past made it feel like it’d been getting hammered. And still it kept coming for what felt like hours before Kabru finally bottomed out.

When he did, he leaned forward, pushing even deeper, forcing a deep moan from Laios. He couldn't reach Laios' face, but he could press his face to Laios' chest and pepper it with kisses. He ran the tip of his tongue around a nipple, and it made Laios shudder. So he locked his legs around Kabru, squeezing their bodies together.

“You can start thrusting; I’m ready,” Laios said, voice husky with desire. His cock ached for release.

Kabru complied, slowly and carefully at first, but gathering speed each time. The pressure on his prostate on the up-stroke was immense, and as the strokes came faster and faster, the ripples of pleasure coursing through his body were becoming crashing waves. Small gasps and moans too were becoming louder, and if he didn't control himself, the whole castle was going to hear him getting his back blown out. He bit down on his hand to muffle himself.

Soon, he came: thick ropes coated him and Kabru's bellies. He expected Kabru to slow down and stop, but he kept up his feverish pace. The sensation left him feeling dizzy, fuzzy in the head and weak in the limb. It certainly wasn't bad but he was going to pass out if he kept this up.

“Kabru,” he tried to say, but it was so hard to speak like this. He tapped him on the shoulder.

Kabru responded, his own voice hoarse and gasping now, “I’m close, I’m so close!”

No stopping him now–Laios clung for dear life onto Kabru's shoulders. He was flaccid now, but every stroke past his prostate forced more seminal fluid from the tip of his dick, milking him dry.

With a moan and a shudder, Kabru finally relented. He rested his head on Laios' tits, just a moment, giving a few soft kisses while he caught his breath. Laios rubbed his shoulders, keeping his touch light, not wanting to risk arousing him again (he could not handle it if Kabru tried to rut him again so soon).

“Kabru,” he mumbled, too tired to talk properly.

Kabru looked up. His face looked blissful and sleepy. “Hmm?”

“You gotta pull out, man, I am so tired.”

He pushed himself up back to the kneeling position and carefully pulled out. And so Laios immediately fell asleep.

A few moments of sleep later, he woke to Kabru climbing back in bed with him, holding a warm towel.

He was dressed in his night wear, and more candles were lit again so it wasn't quite so dark.

“Here,” he said, pressing the towel into Laois' hands, “Get cleaned up, and put your bed clothes on.”

Laios took the towel and began to wash up what he could. He couldn't have been asleep for very long, as the mess on his stomach hadn't completely dried down, but the feeling of the lube was starting to itch. It was kind of awkward with Kabru just sitting there, and it seemed Kabru felt the same, since he decided it was a good time to talk.

“So… you're feeling alright? No pain?”

Laios hadn't been prepared to talk yet. His mouth felt sticky.

“Mm. Mostly. Just feel kinda sore.”

“Well, let me know if you need a healing spell or anything.” He drummed his fingers on his legs, pointedly not looking at Laios. For his privacy, Laios guessed, though that did feel silly to be concerned about with a guy you were just inside of.

“Water would be nice,” Laios answered.

“Of course, let me grab your glass,” he said, springing back to his feet. He was just acting kind of weird in a way Laios couldn't place.

Kabru had brought in a jug and a couple glasses when he'd come back, along with the hot towel. If anyone saw him passing by, they’d probably think Laios had been sick–at least that's what Laios would think.

Laios finished cleaning himself off and bunched up the towel to put in the laundry later just as Kabru turned back to him with the water.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it and gladly chugging it.

Kabru sat on the bed in an awkward silence while Laios picked up discarded clothes and the towel and got himself into something clean, and he was still waiting like that when Laios sat down with him again.

“Are you, like, okay?” Laios asked, trying not to yawn. But fuck was he still tired.

Kabru exhaled hard. He was sweaty again–he was sweaty a lot though.

“What exactly did you mean by saying you wanted me to ‘touch you like a boyfriend’?” Kabru said politely, his focus entirely on Laios. Scanning him, almost.

Laios had not thought of the statement as ambiguous, but pressed to answer he wasn't now sure what he did mean by that. Why the hell did he say it that way?

“I mean that…You're my friend, and I care about you a lot, and I couldn't do any of this kingly mess if you weren't here…” Kabru's stare was intense, and it was making him nervous, “and… You know you're really handsome? And…” he was turning red and sweating, talking was getting physically more difficult, “and… tonight, that was nice? We should… again. Sometime.”

‘Be more confident that I like you…’

Why couldn't they talk about all this before milking his prostate and continuing to fuck him for like ten extra minutes?

An arm snaked around his waist, pulling them close. Laios just wanted to go to sleep like this, pressed against him. He rested his head on top of Kabru's–his hair smelled nice, probably some perfume he used inbetween washes.

“Would you like to be my boyfriend, then, Laios? Is that what you're trying to say?”

Laios dared lay a kiss in that bed of curls; he dared to wrap his own arms around Kabru.

“Yeah, it is.”

“We’ll have a lot to discuss if we want this to work,” he said.

“Probably. Being king doesn't help,” Laios answered, “But let's worry about that in the morning. I just wanna sleep with you now.”

Kabru squeezed him tightly, nuzzling his neck again, breath against his pulse, speaking softly.

“You should phrase that differently–I could go for another round.”

Locking Kabru in a hold, Laios fell back on the bed.

“You're insatiable! Let me rest!”

They laughed together for a minute as Kabru broke the hold and got up to put out the candles. Laios yawned deeply, and got under the covers, and made space for Kabru. He pushed a pillow over for him. When Kabru climbed into bed, he laid face to face with Laios.

He looked so beautiful in the moonlight, soft and happy, and his eyes seemed to sparkle. Being with Kabru made him happy, even if they didn't always understand one another. He could trust him, and he felt like Kabru trusted him too. He wanted to kiss him again, fall asleep close that way. So he did. They lay curled around each other, lost in dreams.

All that mattered that night was that they wanted each other's company: Everything else could wait.

#the compendium #labru #kabru #laios touden

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