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cannibalisticskittles · 3 months

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first times - ch. 2

[on ao3]

Pen’s day starts as it always does – with another glorious pre-dawn workout to start his morning off right, capped off with a few all-too-brief moments to admire his impressive physique before beginning his patrols.

Then, training Burgess – which is a slightly less disappointing affair today. Burgess is finally showing… some improvement with his sword forms, though his reaction speed still isn’t quick enough to prevent himself from getting whacked in the face when Pen tosses him a sheathed sword.

Then, yet more patrolling, pausing only for a protein and yakmel milk break at the Blue Moon.

All throughout, he makes sure he stays visible so the residents of Sandrock can feel at ease knowing their diligent protector is around.

And then – a slight change to routine.

Three straight days of finding you passed out somewhere has made him… keenly aware of the likelihood that he will have to find you and rescue you from yet another fit of folly.

Just yesterday, he’d found you curled up near the scrapyard, a wild yakmel gently nibbling at your hair. When he’d scooped you up into his arms, you’d mumbled something unintelligible and immediately nuzzled into him, your hands winding into the fabric of his armor, just below his chestplate. You’d managed to stay asleep even as he gently pried your fingers away, whining faintly when he finally extricated himself before turning and snoring into your pillow.

…and despite the short distance he’d carried you, the drool you left on his chest didn’t dry until well after he returned to the dorms.

So. It seems wise to… check in on you. It’s practical. The sooner he finds wherever you have chosen to fall asleep this time, the sooner you’ll be in his arms again – for your sake, of course. He’s only thinking of your safety.

Besides – he’s also noticed that you have not stopped by to deliver another chagrined ‘thanks’ for seeing you safely home yet, and that alone is enough to warrant a visit.

Thus, when it begins to get dark, Pen cuts his usual patrol route short and heads out in the direction of your workshop.

He’s almost disappointed to see lights on as he draws near – the ridiculous faces you make in your sleep are… amusing enough to make it not feel like a waste of too much of his time – though it’s possible that you’ve left them on in your absence. It has happened before.

When he passes through the gate, he begins to hear voices, though he cannot pick out more than a word or two until he has raised a fist to knock on the door and hears –

“…very attractive, and I am… not immune to his charms, and lately I have been… drawn to him more and more.”

That’s your voice, alright, but… who exactly are you talking about?

“I’ve noticed.” That’s Athena’s voice. “You have a tendency to stare when you see him. Constantly.”

‘Him’ again. Who is this ‘him?’ Pen pauses, diverts a half-step away from the door, closer to a window, and leans in to hear better.

“–you’ve been giving him what I can only describe as bedroom eyes.”

Something twists in his stomach as he thinks about you batting your eyes at – who? At anyone.

Pen has noticed some… interesting behavior from you lately, sure, but – you’ve always been flirtatious. Few in Sandrock have been spared from a teasing comment or two, at the very least. So you’ve amped it up in recent days – it’s not exactly new behavior. Even if you have been… touchier. Quicker to steady yourself on his arm when you lose your footing. And bolder with your outfits, less concerned with what – or how much – you may be displaying as you move about your workshop. And the slight, persistent, almost-imperceptible dilation of your pupils to go along with the perpetual good mood you’ve been in.

He did think it was possible that you were aiming that at –

…someone in particular.

But Athena is far from finished, listing off a whole litany of observations that make it sound less like you’re expressing an interest in someone and more like you’re completely, utterly taken in by whoever ‘he’ is. Pen considers each of them as Athena blithely rattles them off – making excuses to be near ‘him,’ sticking out your chest, the oral fixation, the lip-biting, and – his hand tightens into a fist at his side – the imagined dick-riding.

He’s seen some of what Athena describes, of course. He notices everything. But if this is more than just some mischievous streak and it is meant to draw someone in –

– who else have you been flaunting yourself around? Who, exactly, is worth all this… hunger?

Pen knows everything that goes on in this town, as a rule, though he doesn’t pay much attention to those affairs that bore him or that run no risk of ever being relevant – which is most things, admittedly.

This, though – your desperate need for someone – he would heed.

…for the sake of the mission, of course. It’s important to know who’s connected to who in town. How could something like this slip past him? And who could you be talking about?

Arvio? The younger man – boy, really – has been far too obvious about his little crush on you. But… no, just the other week, you’d confessed to Pen how bad you felt about rejecting Arvio after all that effort he’d put into some little masquerade.

“He looked so sad, but, c’mon, really,” you’d said, “who pulls a bait-and-switch for a confession? A masquerade can be romantic, sure, but as a surprise? What did he really think would happen? And… don’t get me wrong, I do feel bad, but not enough to date him out of pity. …don’t tell him I told you any of this.”

Pen can’t imagine that changing in the last week or so – or ever. And Arvio is, to put it gently, a wimp. And the way he follows you around like a lovesick puppy is the height of annoyance – to you, he’s sure. Really, the fact that he thought he ever had a chance with you is laughable. As though you’d ever be into someone like him.

…who would you be into, then?

Qi? No, too nerdy. Nothing more needs to be said there.

Burgess? Absolutely not. Burgess already garners too much attention as it is just from your pity.

Fang? Pen has even less to say on the doctor’s behalf than the man himself does, and that’s quite a feat.

Justice? …possible, but though the two of you are on good terms, Sandrock’s sheriff seems closer to Athena than to you, and is that likely to be the case if he was the target of your advances?

Unsuur? Well. That’s… possible. You do spend a decent amount of time with him. And there’s no better whack-a-mole partner in town. But are monotone observations and rock facts really what get you going?

Owen? …also a possibility. He can’t compare to Pen, of course, but he’s not bad looking, and he does at least put some effort into his appearance. And you do seem in high spirits whenever Pen sees you in the Blue Moon, chatting away with Owen long after you’ve finished your meal. Owen would have to be blind not to notice that, and a fool to turn you down. And –

Pen is shaken out of this thought by your voice again, louder now, as he hears you moving about the room.

“–unendingly horny about Pen.”

Oh.

That – makes much more sense than anything else. Of course it would be him that fills your thoughts.

And he can’t say he hasn’t had a thought or two about you. …maybe a few more than that, with your recent behavior.

The softness of your hands against him, not to simply pass along a new commission, but to slide up his shirt as you press against him. Those sighs you make when he carries you home and tucks you into bed but this time, plaintive as you reach for him, begging him not to go.

Throughout this, you keep going, talking about how attractive he is and –

Ah.

You’re bold – fucking you against a wall? Bending you over a pew? Imagining him talking you through taking every inch of him just from hearing his voice?

Oh, he can make all of that happen.

He can imagine you struggling to stay quiet as he presses you against a wall, the stone cold against the bare skin of your chest as he slides a knuckle between your slick folds. Your breath hitching as footsteps draw near, the hand clamped over your mouth not enough to silence the little sighs and whimpers you make as he grinds his erection against you, careful not to slip inside, though you buck and cant your hips back to entice him. Murmuring in your ear, telling you to be careful – what would they think if they saw you like this, so exposed, dripping and desperate for him?

Letting go of your mouth to gasp that you don’t care, you just want him, please. Your eagerness to press tight against him when he finally relents, turns you around, and hoists you into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist and begging him to warm you up, inside and out. How obscene you would sound when he finally grants your wish and pushes into you. Your walls tightening around him with each thrust, forgetting all thoughts of staying quiet as you babble about how good he feels.

It’s a pleasant thought that he’ll devote more time to later tonight. But – he shelves it for the moment. Something in your tone… shifts.

“I’ve done… some things. But there are… some other things, I… haven’t. Yet.”

You sound – hesitant. Unsure in a way that he hasn’t heard before. Your voice becomes clearer as you draw near to the window, and he hunches lower to stay out of sight. But it’s the next part that stuns him –

“Like… penetration.”

Pen is keenly aware of how uncomfortably tight his pants have become.

Never. You’ve never been taken.

And you want him to be the one you hand the reins to. A good choice – the best – even if you haven’t quite thought through what that would mean. What a life-changing experience that would be.

He can imagine you clinging to him, gasping, your makeup running as you whimper with every thrust. Overstimulated, overwhelmed and yet practically mewling for him to keep going, Pen, please, you need him. More than anything, you need him.

Then – the conversation takes an odd turn to the least appealing place possible. Burgess? And porn? In the same sentence? Not only that, it’s some ploy to sexually educate him for… Athena’s sake? How could a guy like Burgess possibly hope to pull someone like Athena? And he’s got you roped in on this, too?

Pen shakes his head. This is not even close to what he wants to be thinking about now. Or ever.

Thankfully, the conversation soon turns back to more pleasant territory, as you claim to be ‘aces at oral’ – which Pen will gladly put to the test – and remark that you can “–keep him from following in the footsteps of those who have tried, and failed, to deflower me.”

Of course they failed. They weren’t him.

He grows more amused as you stubbornly insist that you’ve had sex, you just haven’t been penetrated, as though that distinction really matters. And then lament that you weren’t ready with anyone else, but you do feel ready with him. Once again, no big surprise there – they weren’t him.

Regardless of whatever sad, incomplete experiences you’ve had before, the point remains – you’ve never been properly fucked.

Oh, you deflect with talk of fingering and toys, but that doesn’t really count, and it can’t compare to the real thing. Certainly not to him. And yet you’ve been dreaming about taking all of him – and not only that, but getting adventurous with it, too. You really think you could handle that? As your first time? He could laugh – would, if that wouldn’t give him away.

It’s – cute, in a way. He admires your boldness. Even if it is unfounded.

He listens to your grievances about your previous partners with a mixture of pity and disbelief. Oh, they are such losers. How could they fumble you so badly? Their ineptitude will only serve to highlight how much better he is than them. He would have been better than anyone you’d had before anyway, but it sounds like he won’t even need to try to be miles above the standards they’ve set for you. He will anyway, of course. It’s only right, after the disappointments you’ve had until now.

That settles it. Pen will fulfill your desires. He can give you what you think you want – and more. So much more. He’ll be your first.

…and as your first, he will utterly ruin you for anyone else.

You’ve never been fucked like you should have before – and you’ll never be fucked like that again, not by anyone else. No one else could ever possibly compare. And when you ache, it will forever be for his touch. You’ll always yearn for him, always. You’ll be thinking about him in the dead of night for the rest of your life, dreaming of him and him alone, and –

“…I’m so horny because I care?” Your words are soft.

He freezes. You care?

Oh, this is even better. It’s not just lust pulling you to him – you are transfixed by all of him. You have feelings for him. Which is further confirmed when you begin to panic about him not being interested in you. What did you expect – that he would see you swaying your hips and fuck you then and there, in the middle of the town square?

…maybe you did. But he does have self-control, strained as it may be right now. And it’s not as though you’ve taken any initiative beyond… parading around like a cat in heat. Why should he be the one to pursue you? You should be trying to win him over. Particularly if, as Athena is suggesting, these feelings are deep enough to keep you from acting on these perpetual fantasies. But… what exactly does she mean when she says he’s thinking the same thing you are?

Evidently, you share this sentiment, as you ask, “…what makes you so sure?

“I’ve… noticed things,” Athena says. “You’re not the only one being obvious.”

He’s been obvious? About what, exactly? How?

Pen hears rapid footsteps moving away from the window, and when you speak again, your voice is fainter.

“What are you waiting for? Spill.”

He steps closer to the window, until he is almost flush against the wall, straining to hear.

Athena laughs. “He always seems to be looking in your direction, for one. And he somehow gets even more puffed up when you’re around – like he needs to show off somewhere you can see him.”

Has he? That… isn’t something he was aware of. Pen frowns. He needs to be more careful, clearly. He can’t be… acting without realizing it. And he isn’t exactly fond of the idea that he’s been watched. Athena doesn’t have much else to say on that matter, so he can’t have been behaving too abnormally, but even so.

You do sound... encouraged by what she said, though. You may as well; though he had no intention of indicating any interest to you he won’t pretend he was disinterested before, and now, well – now he’s fated to be the first to claim you.

You dither and fret for a moment about what to do about all this, what to say – and then your voice goes breathy and coquettish. “Hi Pen, could I interest you in fucking my brains out?”

It catches him off guard – enough that he loses his footing and stumbles, banging into the side of the house before he rights himself.

“–the fuck is that noise?”

That’s his cue to leave.

It’s not hard to duck off to the side before you reach the window, nor to stay still and silent as you search for the source of the sound.

He’s already past the train tracks by the time you come outside and peer around the yard. The light from inside illuminates your figure as you bend to poke at the storage boxes along the wall nearby.

Almost getting caught has done nothing to cool the desire you’ve stirred in him, and for a moment he considers turning back and calling out to you, but… no. Not tonight. Bold as you may be, it’s unlikely you’d be shameless enough to let him take you then and there, bent over those boxes. Not with Athena still waiting inside, anyway.

But more importantly – that isn’t enough. Not for your first time. No, he needs it to be seared into your memory forever, and a quick fuck won’t cut it.

Besides, he wants to see what it is you intend to say to him.

It is agony waiting out the remainder of the evening until it is finally, finally late enough for him to return to his room. Thankfully he is able to avoid most everyone, but even so, it is a struggle to keep his composure through the rest of his patrol.

Alone at last, he wastes no time in shedding his armor. He’s been straining at the confines of his clothes for far too long now, and the desire to finally ease that tension is almost overwhelming – but this is no time for a quick release.

No, this is the time for considering how, exactly, you might approach him with these thoughts of yours – and when.

Will you act on what you’ve been imagining? Call out to him from some secluded corner in town? Or in the church, after a sermon? Beckoning him behind a pew? Or will it be something new?

He takes himself in hand at last, a sharp, involuntary hiss leaving him as his fingers wrap loosely around his aching length and he swipes a thumb over the already-leaking tip.

It may even be here, tonight.

He can picture it now – a knock well after midnight rousing him from his sleep. Following the noise downstairs and there, at the door to the dormitory, he would find you.

You’d be in some diaphanous white nightgown that floats fetchingly in the wind and yet leaves the outline of your body very clear; the pebbling of your nipples beneath the nightgown makes it apparent that you have nothing on underneath. You’d clasp your hands in front of you in a move that only serves to push your breasts together and tilt your head to look up at him through your eyelashes.

How exactly you’d get there with so little protection or without being seen doesn’t matter – what does is the hunger in your voice when you say, “Pen, I want you. I need you. Please.”

And who would he be to deny you what you need?

Then you’d be in his room – no need to bother with the steps between it and the door.

There wouldn’t be much to undress, but he’d make a show of hooking his thumbs into the band of his underwear and pulling it down, and revel in the way your eyes would grow wide when his cock springs free.

“Oh, wow,” you’d breathe, “you’re so big.” You’d angle your head and regard him with wide, almost innocent eyes and ask, “can I… show you those tricks I learned?”

He supposes he could grant you that gift.

Pen would sit on the edge of the bed and give himself a few shallow pumps, just to watch the hunger grow in your eyes.

You’d sway your hips as you near, unable to hide that you are thinking of him inside you, then sink to a kneel between his legs.

You’d take one more brief moment to absorb the sight of him, and then set to work. You’d lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, from the base to the tip, and then finally take him into the wet warmth of your mouth.

He’d groan lowly, feeling you smile against him, though he could not see it.

You’d work your way slowly but steadily down until you gradually take more and more of him and then you’d hum around him, letting the vibrations work in tandem with the bobbing of your head.

You’d make it down almost to the very base – and then release him with a pop and swirl your tongue around the head. He’d fist a hand in your hair as you take him in your mouth again, and –

Pen pauses.

He’s too close to the edge to continue on with that train of thought – can’t cum before getting to the really good parts.

He slows his strokes and skips ahead – imagines you laying back on his bed, hiking your nightgown up past your hips. You’d bend your knees to expose your cunt and reach down to spread your glistening folds.

“I’m so wet for you, Pen, look.” You’d dip a finger into your entrance, and when you pull it away, sure enough, a long string of shining wetness would follow, hanging in the air. “Aaaaall because of you,” you’d croon.

He would not miss your shiver of anticipation as he climbs over you, and when he’d hook a finger in the neckline of that gauzy nightgown and tear it off of you, leaving you fully bare at last, you would be breathless with excitement.

His cock would already be slick from your mouth, but he’d rub himself against your cunt anyway, coating himself in your juices, then press the head of his cock against your entrance, and… wait. His teasing would elicit a keen of frustration from you – music to his ears.

“Please, Pen, fuck my pussy, make me yours, I need y–”

Pen would grin – and, as your reward, thrust into you in one smooth motion.

“–oooouu–!” The word turns into a strangled cry, and you’d arch your back, the motion pressing your soft tits against his chest.

His hands would pull your hips up, pulling you against him to reach as deep into you as he possibly can. You’d hook your legs around him to aid in this endeavor, clearly wanting him as close as can be.

“So good,” you’d whimper, “so good, so good, so good.”

He’d reassure you between thrusts as you cling to him – “you take me so well, like you were made for me.”

“Yes,” you’d whimper, “yes, Pen, I was made for you, just for you.”

“And since you’re made for me – there’s no need for you to ever think about anyone else again.”

“No, no one else, just you, you, Pen, ah–”

Satisfied with the honesty in your babblings, Pen would direct his attention to your poor, neglected breasts, which must be aching for his attention.

He’d drag his tongue against a nipple – then bite down, hard. You’d gasp, and he’d move to the next and do it again.

Your walls would flutter with each bite, spurring him on to leave yet more until there’d be a trail of bruises and bite marks across your pretty chest, up your neck, along your shoulders – an unmistakable display of ownership, enough to show everyone exactly who you belong to.

You would be trembling by the end of it. “Pen,” you’d gasp, “Pen, I’m so close, please–”

He’d rub at your clit as you clench around him, so tight, so hot.

“Yesyesyes, Pen, I love you, Pen, Pen, Pen–”

And that sends him over the edge.

He finishes onto his hand, but imagines he is emptying himself into your hungry, waiting cunt as you twitch around him, glad to be filled but still begging him for more, for this, forever. Him, only him.

And when he’s cleaned himself up, he sits back and thinks about you.

Those exes of yours really did a number on you, huh? It seems like that’s the only thing they managed to do to you. Hard to imagine fucking up that bad – but no matter. He will succeed where all others failed so miserably before.

Your gripes are easy enough to appease. Foreplay – naturally. There’s no question whether he’ll leave you wet enough to be ready for more. Condoms – though, maybe you can be swayed on that one. And no rushing.

Pen’s gone without the touch of any but his own hands – perfect as they are – for this long. He can wait a little longer. …though he cannot imagine he will have to, with you burning with such a need for him. But regardless, he’ll let you set the pace – in fact, he won’t give you what you’re after until you’re begging him for it.

He can hardly sleep in anticipation of when he sees you next.

Except… he does not see you.

The next morning passes much the same as the day before – namely, without so much as a hint of you. That isn’t terribly surprising; you do tend to spend your mornings wrapped up in… builder-y things. Whatever those would be.

Pen makes himself very easy to find in the afternoon, in all the spots you usually frequent, taking care to seem as nonchalant and natural as possible so that you don’t suspect a thing when you stumble across him. A casual lean against the wall of the town hall, his hair perfectly wind-tossed; extra bicep curls by the church, where his well-maintained muscles can be seen from half the town. He even loops around the museum a few times, knowing that you’ve been stopping by more and more in recent days. All places where you are sure to see him and be left breathless by his unmatchable beauty – just as soon as you do see him.

But… you remain elusive.

He does not see you rushing to deliver commissions all across town, he does not see you stopping in for a chat at the Civil Corps, and he does not see you dropping by Qi’s lab to pester the man about some new diagram.

And when the evening comes to a close without catching sight of you even once, he decides it is time to pay a visit to his favorite builder. You may need some… encouragement.

He sets his plan into motion the next morning.

There is one place you always make your way to, come rain or shine – the commerce guild.

It’s easy enough to catch Yan on his way out the door and suggest that he make himself scarce for a while – go bother one of his other builders for a while. Give Pen some time to… talk to you without Sandrock’s slimiest guild commissioner butting in.

And then Pen waits, close enough to keep an eye on the guild but far enough not to immediately be seen by you as you approach – assuming you’re coming the way you always do, that is.

Sure enough, before long, you come running around the corner, barely slowing down as you head inside.

That’s his cue to approach. When you emerge, he is there, waiting just outside the door.

You bump face first into his chest, though he puts his arm behind you on the pretense of catching you and preventing you from bouncing back into the door as it closes gently behind you – then rests it on the doorframe above your head and leans in, boxing you in.

“Heeeeey, Skinny,” he murmurs with a grin that only grows as you stare at him, wide-eyed, mouth agape.

“–Pen! Hey!” Though you seem like you’re trying to sound casual, your eyes are wide and your face is faintly flushed. You glance from his face to his arm above you and back. “What… brings you to the commerce guild so early in the morning?”

“I was just thinking about you, you know.”

As expected, you flush still deeper. “Y-yeah? Why’s that?”

“Hmm.” He hums a note in lieu of an answer straightaway. “I ever tell you I have a thing for those skinny arms of yours?”

Your eyes snap to his. “You… did not.”

“No?” He angles his head to better look at you – which has brought his face ever so slightly closer to yours, and you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth.

“Pr-etty sure I would… uh, I would’ve remembered you saying… something like that.”

You reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear – and Pen catches your hand in the air and runs his fingers lightly from your wrist to your bicep and back again. With his hand at your wrist, he can feel your pulse flutter. He rubs his thumb in a slow circle there, and sure enough, your heart rate jumps and your eyes go half-lidded.

“I–” You swallow, hard.

He leans in, close enough to touch, and murmurs, “Thought you should know.” As his lips brush the shell of your ear, you shiver, and he can’t stop his grin from spreading across his face.

You look up at him through your lashes, lips parting – expectant.

And he releases your wrist and leans back. You make a soft noise of protest and reach for him, just barely stopping before making contact.

That should do the trick. If there was anything holding you back, this should be enough encouragement to spur you on.

“I…” You blink as if coming out of a fog. “I actually – have something to tell you, too.”

And you reach into your back pocket.

You sound so resolute that he’s almost convinced you have a commission for him that he’s forgotten about, but he can’t imagine what he would have asked for that’s small and insignificant enough to fit in your back pocket. You fumble for a moment before finally pulling out what you were looking for and shoving it towards him. It’s –

A heart knot.

He stares at it for a long moment, taking it in. When he looks back at you, you have gone from pink to fully red-faced, and you are fidgeting with the knot even as you hold it out.

“I know this might seem kind of sudden, but I…” You swallow again and draw in a deep breath. When you speak, your voice is steadier. “I’m glad you’re–” You duck your head slightly, and even without touching he can feel the heat radiating from you. “–into my arms, because I also find you – I mean, you’re gorgeous, obviously, you know that. And I’ve… really enjoyed spending time with you, and I’d… I’d like to do that more. Be with you more. So I hope you’ll accept this. If you… feel the same.”

There’s those doe eyes again, but instead of simply flustered, you look…

Hopeful.

The weight of your confession hits him all at once. You’re serious about this. More than that, you’re – sincere. Vulnerable. The symbolism of the heart knot has never felt so apt as it does now – you’ve put your heart in his hands, and what happens now is up to him. The right word could keep you looking at him like he hung the moon – and the wrong word could shatter you.

Even as he watches, you falter, doubt creeping in. “I – maybe this was overstepping, I’m sorry, forget about it.”

And you begin to pull back the heart knot.

No.

“–wait.”

The word slips out before he can even think about it, along with a panic that rises in him at the thought of you taking it back, retracting your confession. Pen grabs for the heart knot with a need that startles even him, letting go of the doorframe to grasp it in both hands. You, still holding it, are pulled towards him.

You regain your footing but do not let go, and blink up at him. “Is that a ‘yes?’”

Is it?

It’s one thing to have a casual fling; it’s another to date. Who knows how long he’ll stay here in Sandrock; if he accepts, this might be pretty damn long-term. But… would that be so bad? More time together. More gifts from you. More compliments. And the chance to turn those fantasies of yours into reality.

“...you really mean it, don’t you, Skinny?”

You nod vehemently. “More than anything.”

So earnest.

“How could I say ‘no’ to someone who seems to love me as much as I do?”

Your face softens with relief, and the smile you aim his way is so warm, and it’s all because of him and he wants more.

“But I need to know that this is real.” If you really do care for him, you’ll be willing to prove it. “You must know I have many fans who have fallen for my dazzling good looks – my six-pack, my devastatingly beautiful biceps, my perfectly-styled hair – or any of my other, equally impressive features,” he says. “Perfectly understandable! And yet so many miss the beating heart beneath these rippling pecs.”

He tugs once more at the heart knot, and you step obligingly closer as his hands overlap yours.

“You see – what I desire is true love.”

Love. The words spill from him easily, almost without thought, spurred on by the way your breath catches and your eyes never leave him, unwavering, transfixed. If he is going to commit his time to this – to you – he needs some sign that you won’t make him regret extending such a generous gift as sharing in his presence. That you are willing to put forth the effort to adore him as he deserves.

“So you see,” he says, “before I can accept, I must know that you aren’t merely enamored with my chiseled jawline and devastatingly sculpted muscles, but that you can see the equally breathtaking truth of who I am beyond that! I need to be sure that your interest is more than skin deep.” Though interest may be putting it lightly – in this moment, you are rapt. “And there is only one way to do that. We must prove our bond by truer means than words – on the battlefield, side-by-side.”

“Okay,” you breathe, and the immediacy of your acceptance sends a pang of... something through him. “...now?” As though ready to dash off into danger with him at this very moment.

Are you? And if so, what else would you be willing to do for him, if he asked it of you?

But – no. He does have duties to attend to, loathe as he is to return to them now.

“Meet me at Paradise Lost… tonight,” he decides. When his time is his at last. “Let our trail of destruction pave the way for a romance more powerful than any other.”

“Tonight…” you breathe. “Yeah. Yes. I’ll be there. And… you should keep this.” You release your grip on the heart knot. He misses your touch immediately, small though it was. “I – I’m glad. I’m really…” You laugh softly. “It was a little tricky to get one since I’ve been avoiding Arvio and he’s been dancing around me ever since… y’know. The masquerade.”

Pen does indeed know – and if his smile goes a little stiff at the thought of the stunt Arvio pulled, well, you’ll hardly notice that, will you?

Indeed, you continue with your tale as blithely as before. “Had to wait until he stepped out and left X to man the shop – can’t believe he does that sometimes – and then I realized he’s such a busybody that there’s no way he wouldn’t ask about it and I had to ask X to lie and say someone else bought it so it’s not awkward, and… it was a whole thing.” That sunny smile returns. “Worth it, though. I’m… looking forward to tonight. Can’t wait.”

Nor can he – though, what you’ve said has stuck in his mind. He doesn’t love the idea of you going out of your way to spare Arvio’s feelings, particularly if it means obscuring who your affections are truly for. Maybe that’s what spurs him to reach forward and brush an errant of hair behind your ear.

“Wear something that shows off those arms of yours, hmm?”

As expected, your eyes once more go wide, and the flush that was beginning to fade returns full force.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.” And then your brow creases. “…shit, I have commissions I need to finish before then, and I need to get ready, and – shit. I – have to go. I’ll see you later tonight!”

And before he can react, you lean up to press a quick kiss to his cheek and then duck under his arm and dash off in the direction of your workshop.

Somehow, the spot you kissed burns pleasantly long after you have faded from view.

#mtas pen #my time at sandrock

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