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cal-puddies · 2 years

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Think of You Later in my Empty Room// Calum Hood

Hello friends! It's been an absolute dream getting to co-write with Crystal again - it's been far too long! There's not much to intro here - as we mentioned, this series originated with us daydreaming about lighting up and getting down with our guys and for Cal, a lazy day at home seemed so natural, and its me so we made it a lil emo for ya.

I hope you checked out @kindahoping4forever's blog for Hit of Dopamine, Higher Than I've Ever Been, which is the Ash installment, and you'll want to go back and check out the verifiably unhinged Luke part tomorrow.

Warnings: Boyfriend!Cal, angsty!girlfriend worried about missing him when he leaves again. significant use of weed, high sex, oral sex, anal play, cum play, dirty talk containing strong language

Word Count: 6260

I Hope You Think Of Me High Series Masterlist

Crystal Masterlist // Cass Masterlist // Ko-Fis linked in our bios

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

It’s a lazy afternoon in bed, in the middle of a lazy day in the midst of a lazy week. Calum’s fingers tangle in your hair as you lay in his lap and you giggle softly as you look up at him, eyes warning him to be careful but also asking him not to stop touching you.

You hum contentedly to the softly playing playlist in the background, feeling your boyfriend’s eyes fixate on you as you stretch out in one of his favorite t-shirts. Your gaze happens upon his packed luggage by the door, a silent reminder of the topic you’ve both been trying to ignore, and you try not to let your face fall but judging by the sigh he lets out, he definitely noticed.

“We can talk about it if you want,” he offers.

“I don’t want,” you say stubbornly. “Anything outside of this room, outside of this bed doesn’t exist to me right now.”

He chuckles, smoothing his hand over the top of your head. “Baby… it’s only gonna be a couple of weeks. And then you’ll be on the road with me.”

You pout, “You just got home.”

“I know, love. And we’ve had a great week together, haven’t we?” You stay quiet, not ready to concede your point, so he continues. “We both knew the schedule when the tour got planned, a week to recharge between legs… knew it wasn’t gonna be easy.”

You sigh, “Cal, I can understand it and accept it and still be sad about it. I’ve just now gotten used to you being here again… I like having you here to talk to, to share things with… just to get a hug when I need one…”

“I miss those things when I’m away, too,” he reminds you, pulling your hands to his lips so he can kiss your wrists. He grins brightly, trying to cheer you up. “But it’s only a couple weeks until you get that time off and you can join me… I’m very glad your passport finally came.”

You can’t help but reach up to caress his raised cheeks. “Yeah… I’m looking forward to it. Really,” you admit, smiling back at him. “So much to do before then, though. Gotta get all my stuff together, all the stuff you’re definitely gonna forget to pack and want me to bring out with me.” You giggle at your own joke and giggle even louder at his pouty reaction to it.

“I know you’re teasing me but we should actually start seeing what all you wanna bring so we know whether or not we need to buy you a bigger suitcase,” he points out.

“So the rest of the week is gonna be busy is what you’re saying.”

“Yes, which is why we’re doing this today,” he says matter of factly, grabbing the bong off the bedside table, gesturing for you to pass him the lighter you’ve been fidgeting with. You toss it to him and sit up against the headboard next to him, watching lovingly as he repacks the bowl from your morning smoke session.

Ever the gentleman, Calum offers it to you first, paying close attention as you position yourself over the mouthpiece, waiting for your cue to light the bowl. You end up taking a pretty good hit and he grins at you as he clears the chamber for himself. You watch his nimble fingers wrap around the bong, gracefully lighting up and tucking the lighter into his palm as he removes the slide, inhaling a large hit and dramatically throwing his head back to blow it out.

You bite your lip, watching him reset for a second hit; his eyes are on you, watching you watch him, noticing your eye line is mostly on his fingers. He inhales and then pulls you in, first to shotgun the hit to you and then to slot your lips together for a kiss after you blow out the smoke. He offers you the bong and when you decline, he uses it once more himself before setting it back on the nightstand.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, patting his thigh. You climb up to straddle him, wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling your face into his neck. You let out a soft sigh as his hands rub up and down your bare thighs, eventually nudging your shirt up over your hips so he can give your ass a tight squeeze. He raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Forgot you’re not wearing panties,” he chuckles.

You smirk and kiss his neck. “What’s the point? You’re just gonna take ‘em off me anyway.”

“I like you naked… I like being naked with you too, is that so wrong?”

“Nah… you know I like our naked bods pressed together too.”

He shrugs. “They don’t even need to be pressed together… I just prefer ya naked.” He tugs the back of your shirt and you lean back, lifting your arms up so he can pull it off. His fingers trail over your skin as he removes your top and you shiver. “Love the way your body responds to my touch… spent weeks getting off to the thought of touching you again.” He drags his fingers across the tops of your breasts, along your collarbone, down your side and across your tummy as he whispers. Your body lets him know how much you love it by raising goosebumps over your skin and your nipples hardening.

You thread your fingers into Cal’s hair as he leans in to kiss on your neck, his stubble prickling your skin. He leans you back to allow himself more access to your body and he immediately takes advantage by wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. He rolls the other between his fingers and palms your breast, and switches, lavishing his tongue over the other side.

You gently scratch at his scalp and he looks up at you, sleepy, red eyes telling you how high he is. He grins before putting his attention back on your tits, sucking marks onto them before pressing a gentle kiss to each one and then kissing back up your neck. He engages you in a slow, sensual make out. His hands feel like they’re everywhere at once, all over your body while yours travel into his boxer to squeeze his ass. He eagerly shimmies them off, sitting up on his knees to toss them aside. “You’re so gorgeous, baby, never get tired of looking at you,” he coos, intertwining your fingers.

“Me? Look at you, bubba,” you sigh, looking him up and down, realizing how hard he is.

He takes your hand in his and moves them both toward his body, cupping his cock with his and your hand. “This is all you baby, you do this. Every damn time,” he explains. You bite your lip, keeping eye contact with him as he moves your hands, swiping his fingertips through your folds. “And I love that I do this to you,” he murmurs, holding up his wet fingers. He sticks them in his mouth and your chilled out brain is still processing that image when he starts moving much quicker than he has all day.

He grabs the super soft blanket from the foot of the bed and quickly shakes it out as he lays next to you again. You both watch, stoned minds fascinated, as the material balloons and flutters back down to cover your bodies, “Your favorite,” he mumbles sweetly, kissing your forehead before turning onto his side so he can drape his arm across your stomach and pull you in close against his chest.

The two of you snuggle together, alternating between whispering sweet nothings to each other and dozing off. Naturally, things eventually evolve into another sweet make out session and you can’t get enough of the slow, unrushed indulgence.

Cal enjoys touching you as much as you enjoy him touching you, which makes everything so much better. He softly moans, appreciating your body’s reactions to him, just like he mentioned. You lean in as he presses gentle kisses to your neck and sigh his name.

“Need you, sweet girl,” he rasps in your ear.

You rub your fingertips against his stubble and nod. “Yeah… need you too, handsome.”

He smooths his hand down your side, pushing his thigh between yours, moving his hand from your hip to your pussy to help him guide his cock in. Your breath hitches in your throat and your jaw falls slack. On a good day, he’s a tight fit, but when you’re high, you feel it extra. “Fuck,” you whimper as he sinks all the way in.

Concern colors his voice as he groans, “You alright, darlin’?” You nod, squeezing your eyes shut, breathing through the stretch. You turn your head towards him, looking for a kiss and his tongue is quickly in your mouth, trying to soothe you. He’s ready to reach for lube when you finally relax into him. “That’s good, baby,” he praises you.

Calum stays unmoving, buried in you, giving you more time to adjust and himself more time to strategize. If he thrusts into you, he knows it’ll feel too good and he’ll have trouble keeping things at a slow pace, which is not only the vibe of the day but something you clearly need. But if you move against him, he knows he’ll cum almost instantly and neither of you will get to enjoy the experience. You’ve been high with him enough times to recognize his dilemma and you offer a simple solution. “Just lay here with me, bubba,” you suggest. You add with a dreamy sigh, “Feel so good inside me.” Your eyelids are heavy as you turn to look at him, nipping at his nose before parting your lips for a kiss. He happily obliges and the two of you are soon caught up in an endless loop of soft open mouth kisses with curious tongues, while your fingers dance across each other’s skin, your bodies still intimately connected.

Your boyfriend is fully entranced with you and he wants more. One hand caresses your thigh while the other gently cups your tits, softly teasing your nipples. He groans softly into your mouth when his fingertips move over to your clit, gently at first. He feels how turned on you are and decides to add a little more pressure,and you moan quietly.

“You’re so wet, little darlin’.”

“How am I not supposed to be?”

He grins as you arch your back into him. “You know I love you this way… open, wet… love you high because everything feels so good to you and with you.”

“Caaaaal… oh… like that… please?”

“F’course darlin’.” He keeps sliding his fingers up and down your clit, varying it with circles every so often. You gasp at the sensations he’s given and your breath shift makes your pussy throb around him. “Ohhh…” Cal moans with you. “Mmm… baby, I think this is working for both of us.”

“It’s definitely working for me,” you pant, moving against him.

“You really like when I do this,” he mutters, sliding his fingers across your clit. “Your cunt squeezes so good…”

You moan at the action and his words, clawing at his arm with one hand, your other covering his at your tits. He lets you intertwine your fingers there and he holds you while he nibbles your neck and sucks your earlobe, all his cock still fills you, his hand working between your legs. He could not be more all over you than he is right now and you’re feeling completely overwhelmed by his attention.

His name spills from your lips over and over, he is the only thing you really know or care to know in this moment. You start pulling at his arm, trying to get him to stop rubbing your clit, even though you can’t put the words together. You turn your head toward him, softly whining, “Please, Cal… feels so good… don’t wanna cum yet.”

He slows his fingers down, speaking softly to you. “Ok, sweet girl, I can be patient if you can.” He holds his wet fingers to your mouth and you clean them, licking and sucking at them. “Sweet, sweet girl,” he murmurs, smiling at you. He wraps his arms around you possessively and the two of you lay cuddled.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to immerse yourself in all of your senses. Unsurprisingly, they’re being dominated by the love and comfort you find in Cal. You take in his scent, which is always calming to you. His even breathing in your ear, his little loving whispers, his soft lips against your neck. You run your fingertips over his arms, softly humming in response to his presence. Everything seems to be moving slowly in your hazy, lovestruck mind so you’re not sure how long the two of you have been laying here but you wish it could go on forever.

“Calum… bubba,” you sigh quietly. “I love you… I love you and I love being full of you…”

He gently thrusts his hips in response, whispering in your ear, “And I love filling you, darlin’… And I love you. My best girl.”

You reach one hand back and thread your fingers in his hair. “Think I’m ready to cum for you, handsome.”

Calum uses one hand to pull you into a kiss, the other finding its way back to your clit. You immediately arch against him and he takes the opportunity to cover your face, neck and shoulder with wet kisses, groaning into your skin as he goes. Overwhelming you again.

The orgasm shouldn’t be a surprise but it feels like it comes on suddenly and it’s incredibly intense. You whimper and whine as you tighten around him and he’s sensitive enough from the weed that it makes him cum too. “Oh my god, Cal,” you breathe as you feel his cum spilling into you. Your nails dig in anywhere you can reach and you bite his arm where it holds you across your shoulders.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he huffs. “Always so good to me, shoulda known you’d make me cum like that.” He gently nibbles along your jaw.

“So good, love,” you murmur, turning into him for a kiss.

You lay wrapped up in each other for a while but you both get a little restless as the high starts to wear off. “Should get you cleaned up darlin,” he remarks. You clench around him as he pulls out and you close your eyes, giggling at the loud groan he lets out at how good it feels. You expect to feel the bed shift from him getting up to head to the bathroom but it never does and you turn over to see what he’s up to.

You find him digging through the bedside table, finally pulling out a baggie of pre-rolled joints. He lights one and takes one, two puffs before passing it to you. He watches you finish a hit before he’s pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. He leans back up for a quick kiss and to grab the joint from you, taking another hit before placing it back between your lips.

“I love seeing you like this… open… messy, my cum dripping out of you,” he groans. His fingertips slide through your folds and he licks the mess of his release off of them. You moan and put one arm behind you to prop you up so you can enjoy the show. You love when he gets like this. His tongue slicks through your folds, immediately teasing your entrance. “I never get tired of the way we taste together.”

You use one hand to lift the joint to and from your lips, the other stays threaded into Cal’s hair as you watch him noisily eat his cum out of you. After a certain point it’s obvious he’s moved beyond the task of cleaning you and he’s now just enjoying your body. He moans into you, nips at your thighs, holding them tight to leave marks, sucking hickeys as he goes. He sucks a particularly large one onto your hip while his thumb rubs your clit and you hear the pop when he pulls off. You blow out a smoke ring as you feel the stirrings of another potential orgasm and you wonder what you ever did to get this lucky.

Calum uses his head to gesture toward you as one hand is occupied kneading your ass, and the other is still playing with your clit. “Can I get that last hit, baby?” You take the cigarette from your own lips and stick it between his. Looking down at Cal, plump lips glistening, red and swollen from eating you out, killing a joint while still between your legs - you’re confident it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. You offer him the ashtray from the bedside table and he coolly tosses the finished joint in it before blowing his smoke at your pussy. “You ready to cum for me again?”

“Jesus, Cal… make me cum for you.”

His lips quickly wrap back around your clit and your fingers make a mess of his hair as he holds onto you tightly. His tongue makes quick, precise work of your clit and your reinvigorated high has you feeling overwhelmed once again. All of your senses are screaming Cal and only Cal.

He pulls your thighs over his shoulders, intertwining your fingers as he decides to start working his tongue inside you, instead of just playing with your clit.

“Holy fuck… Cal… please please please.” You whimper, panting out his name over and over.

“That’s my girl,” he hums, grinning against you. He works his tongue back in, as deep as he can and you buck your hips against his face. He teases, “Needy, darlin’?”

You chant his name, hips meeting every flick of his tongue. He’s both amused and turned on based on the giggles and groans he’s filling you with. He starts humming and ultimately that’s what sets you off. You swear you’ve never moaned louder in your life as you crash over the edge, hips grinding wildly against his face. Cal withdraws his tongue but slowly licks over your clit, bringing you down in a slow way. He lets go of your hands and grabs your hip, rubbing his thumb there reassuringly. You reach out, searching for his other hand, but it quickly registers that he’s using it to slowly stroke his cock.

He notices you’ve gone uncharacteristically silent as he quickly licks and cleans your second orgasm and when he pulls back to look up at you, he finds you with your face buried in your hands.

“What’s goin’ on, sweet girl?” He asks softly, gently pulling your wrists so you’ll uncover your face.

You stare at him, pink chubby cheeks all pink and sweaty, plump lips all red and swollen, a sweet look of concern coloring his expression. “Just… overwhelmed, I think,” you admit.

He settles in next to you, leaning down to peck your lips. “Wanna talk about it?”

You tuck a hand in his curls, smiling at him wistfully. “I’m not sure there’s much to talk about, Cal… I just feel so much for you… all this love and the emotion…” You trail off, trying to gather your thoughts, figure out how to articulate the lump in your throat. “Having all of your attention these past couple days… it’s just been so wonderful. You’re so wonderful. Make me feel so safe and loved. Known. And I think… I need to try and figure out how to comprehend… like… that’s all going away in a couple of days. I don’t know if you know, Cal… but I had a really tough time these past couple months without you. And now we’re going right back into that. You weren’t home long enough.”

Calum takes a long, deep breath, holding your gaze. You can tell he feels bad that you’re hurting and that it makes him feel even worse that he’s the cause and there’s nothing he can do about it. Fighting the frown that threatens to cloud his features, he gives you a soft smile and starts pressing kisses to your face. “I agree with you, love… I wish I was able to be here longer too. Feel like we were just getting back in the swing of things and now I have to go away again,” he shrugs. He squeezes your hand reassuringly. “But I promise you, ‘all of this’ isn’t going away baby. We’re gonna be back together again before you know it. And you know I’m always just a phone call or a FaceTime away. Even when we’re apart, I’m always there for you and you’re always there for me. That part doesn’t change.”

You nod, chewing your lip. You almost feel embarrassed at your outburst. It’s not like you didn’t know things would be like this when you started dating him. “I know, bubba… I didn’t mean to make it seem like you’re abandoning me or anything. I know you’d do anything for me, no matter where you are. I’m sorry.”

He does a double take, looking at you incredulously. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“I don’t want to make you feel bad about leaving. I want you to go on tour, I want you and the band to be successful enough so that you have to leave like this. You’re just doing what you love and I want that for you.”

He sighs, lifting your hand to his lips. “Baby, I also love you. And you’re just feeling your feelings. And all the feelings you just shared with me are completely valid. This is a lot to process. It’s a hard transition from being together all the time to not getting to see each other, especially since this is new for us.”

You give him a sad smile. “Are you about to tell me it gets easier?”

Calum rubs over your arm, grinning. “Oh, definitely not, darlin’, this part’s always gonna be torture,” he chuckles. “We’ll get better about dealing with it, though, I think. ‘Specially if we keep talking about it like this.”

You squeeze his hand on your arm. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Thank you for being honest. Know it’s hard with me sometimes. But I’m glad you told me how you felt.”

You run your hand through his curls and lean in, needing to feel his lips on yours. He pulls you closer and you feel his still semi hard cock brush your stomach. You stay engaged in the kiss but let your hand wander down his body, wrapping around his length. He hums in response to your touch but after a few strokes, he reaches down to stop you.

“I’m OK, sweet girl. Let’s get up and get some food, maybe some sunshine,” he insists, moving your hand away from his body and interlacing your fingers. Your face must display your confusion because he chuckles as he kisses your knuckles before pushing up off the bed and crossing the room to the dresser. He smiles warmly as he tosses you a clean t-shirt and pulls out a pair of shorts for himself. “You’ve given me so much this week, darlin’, think it’s OK if we say you owe me one.”

You follow Cal into the kitchen where he sets to work making a couple sandwiches and cutting up some fruit; you make yourself useful by pouring two tall glasses of ice water and grabbing the lighter, pipe and weed jar off the kitchen counter to take outside. The two of you set everything up on the table in the shade and just as you’re about to take your seat, you feel his hands around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You relax against him while the two of you eat and you can tell he’s doing his best to comfort you in light of the conversation you just had. His arm rests across your lap, he presses soft kisses to your jaw and cheek, his hands shower you in affection, never leaving your skin.

“Sweet girl?” He murmurs into your ear after the meal is over. You cock your head to indicate you’re paying attention and he brings the jar of weed around to your line of vision, shaking it. “You wanna smoke this with me? Should be a little bit more of a mellow vibe than what we had earlier.”

Mellow definitely sounds good to you right now, so you nod and turn to so you can watch his hands work, carefully packing the bowl. You bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together, enjoying the show. You still feel a bit overwhelmed from earlier but after witnessing how thoughtful and attentive he was in navigating your emotions, how willing he was to talk things out with you, you’ve felt the sadness dissipating and instead be replaced by a need to be close to him, to show him your appreciation.

Calum must be feeling similarly because midway through his task, he turns and quickly draws you into a hungry kiss before nuzzling his nose to yours. “What a perfect way to close out such a lovely day with my girl,” he murmurs, running his hand up your thigh.

You brush his hair back, letting your hand fall to his neck and then chest. You play innocent, though you know exactly what rubbing your thumb over his nipple will do. You watch as his eyes close and his lips part, letting out a soft moan. “You’re so good to me, Cal,” you coo, leaning in to kiss his neck, sucking a mark onto his collarbone. He would typically stop you but it feels too good and he loves you too much right now for him to care.

The pipe lays forgotten on the table as your kisses trail lower, allowing your tongue to poke out and tease his other nipple. His hand comes down to hold the back of your neck as you tease him and you groan against his skin when you feel his cock twitch in his shorts. His fingertips run up your thighs, bunching your t-shirt at your hips as his touch continues the journey up your stomach and ribs, then gently over your breasts and nipples and back again.

After a few more minutes of this, he gently nibbles your earlobe and tugs at the hem of your shirt. “Can I take this off?”

You lean into his ear to whisper, “Can I ask for something in return?”

“Anything.” He says earnestly, tongue sliding over your lips before kissing them.

You look into his eyes. “Fill me?” You ask, reaching down to squeeze the tent forming in his shorts.

He lifts his hips with you still on him, kicking his shorts off and giving himself a few pumps to get fully hard. His fingers run up your thighs, ready to pull off your underwear but he laughs heartily when he realizes there’s nothing there.

“Still no panties?”

“Still no point,” you smirk, turning back around in his lap and lowering yourself down on his cock.

Cal hastily discards your shirt, burying his face in your bare shoulders as you continue to sink down on him. You let out a breathy sigh, wiggling your hips to get him bottomed out and your efforts are met with a low growl from him.

You gently turn his head toward you, giving him a heated kiss, finishing off by sucking his bottom lip. As you turn and press your back into his chest, his hands come around to cup your tits and he plays with your nipples, “I love the way you feel in me,” you sigh.

“I love the way you feel around me, baby. Tight, warm, wet… absolute perfect fit.”

You use his thighs for leverage as you push yourself up until just his tip is at your entrance and then you sink down as slow as you can possibly manage, intending to feel every vein and ridge of his cock. He pulls you back into a sloppy kiss and he’s practically shaking from the sensations you’re giving him.

“You OK, handsome?” You ask, teasing lilt in your voice.

“Do that again.”

You repeat your actions and he chokes on his moan. He settles his hands on your hips and though you expect him to try to get you to move faster, his grip just squeezes your skin as he sits back and lets you control the pace, groaning as he watches you take him over and over again.

“That’s it, baby… just like that,” he praises, head lulling back, closing his eyes to appreciate your slow work.

Your brow furrows in concentration as you move over him, thighs burning from going so slow but it feels so fucking good and he sounds so fucking good, you know the memory will be worth the pain later. You feel him lean in to cup your tits, giving them a nice squeeze before he turns your face towards his again, slotting your lips together.

His hand starts to drift between your legs but you bat it away, groaning, “Cal… let me do this, baby, let me make us feel good.”

He curses under his breath but obliges, leaning back to let you move freely. He goes quiet and you smirk to yourself, knowing he’s probably become hypnotized watching your ass jiggle and bounce as you ride him. You speed up just a little, trying to give him a bit more of a show, and sure enough you hear his breathing get heavier and feel a hand stroke down your skin, making a home for itself on the small of your back, wanting to touch you but also not wanting to obscure his view.

“Goddamn, darlin’...” He breathes, voice raspy and ragged. “Look so fuckin’ good riding me… don’t know why we don’t do it like this more often.”

You toss him a teasing look over your shoulder. “Because you’re a sweet boy who loves to kiss and look into your lover’s eyes… also the combo of staring at my ass and watching your cock disappear usually makes you cum pretty quick.”

Cal laughs loudly, “If you were seeing what I’m seeing, you’d be a lot closer to losing control too, baby.”

He groans loudly as you slow down again, rolling your hips extra slow so he can get a good look at your body engulfing him. “Well, next time we’ll have to make arrangements for that,” you tease, biting your lip as the possibilities run through your mind.

“Lotta things we’ll have to get to next time,” he teases back, letting his hand slide from your back to between your cheeks, fingers grazing your rim. He chuckles darkly at the way your body instinctively responds, how you fall forward, your back arching, your ass making itself more accessible to him. He loves that your body is asking him to continue but he wants to hear you say it so he plays dumb and asks, “Oh?”

“Yeah… please” is all you can manage but it’s all the prompting he needs. He sucks his thumb into his mouth and the wet noises of him coating it in spit, the loud pop when he releases it causing you to shiver in anticipation. You raise your hips, stilling your movements, holding your breath as you feel his hands on your backside again. He squeezes and massages your cheeks before spreading them and pressing his thumb against your hole. “Yesssss… Caaaal,” you sigh, overcome by the contrast of the dull pressure of his finger pushing inside you while his other four offer feather light reassurance just above the intrusion.

He groans as he prods further, getting lost in your breathy reactions and the bliss of watching your body accept even more of him. “Come on, little darlin’,” he rasps, squeezing your hip with his free hand. “Gonna keep movin’ for me?"

You whimper as you resume riding him, doing your best to set a new and effective pace even though you’re feeling completely overwhelmed by the knowledge Calum is filling both of your holes. His noises blend with yours, the two of you moaning together, you reacting to the deliciously full feeling he’s giving you, Cal doing his best to keep in control despite the fact that your ass looks unreal taking everything he’s giving you, that he’s feeling friction from his thumb on his cock and it’s bringing him closer to the edge than he’s ready for.

“Fuck, darlin’... can’t tell you how this looks… feels… gonna be thinkin’ about this every fuckin’ night when I’m gone,” he pants, a sense of relief washing over him when he hears the tone of your whines and recognizes that you’re about to finish as well. “So good… so fucking good, baby.”

You speed up, grabbing your tits, grinding down, chasing your orgasm, undecided whether focusing on the stimulation in your ass or your pussy is going to get you there fastest. Your body makes that call for you, deciding that Cal’s soft groans of encouragement are more than enough reason for you to cum. Your legs shake and you cry his name as your walls pulse around him, your third orgasm of the afternoon hitting you harder than you expected.

Calum thrusts gently up into you, happy to give you recovery time if you need it but also more than ready to follow you over the edge. You feel his hips start to stutter and you know you only have a limited amount of time to direct him. You quickly jut your backside out as much as you can and look behind you to tell him, “Cum on my ass, Cal… give us both something to think about while you’re gone.”

Another strained “Fuck” and a groan of your name are all he has time to respond with because your request has him immediately pulling out and pressing his cock to your cheeks without a second to spare. He struggles to keep his eyes open to take in the sight of his cum spilling onto your ass but as you moan at the feeling of his warmth coating your skin, he has to screw his eyes shut and vocalize with you. He gives himself a squeeze, milking out the last few drops before letting out an exhausted sigh and falling back against the chair.

He reaches over to the table, blindly searching for the napkins from lunch, finally finding them and quickly cleaning your messy skin. He squeezes your ass, massaging it more as he leans forward and presses kisses along your spine before wrapping his arms around your ribs so he can pull you back against him. He presses his face against your neck, still trying to catch his breath.

“You OK, bubba?” You chuckle, squeezing your arms on his.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmurs against your neck, inhaling deeply and pressing a few soft kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders.

“I just give what I get, love.”

The two of you sit quietly, naked and relaxing against each other, basking in the sun and the bond you’re feeling. You can tell your boyfriend is starting to doze off and you know if he goes, you’ll end up nodding off as well. “Let’s go back to bed, bubba,” you suggest. “That soft blanket and mellow weed are calling our names.”

You whine as you stand and stretch, hurting in all the best ways. Calum watches your every move and if you couldn’t feel his eyes on you, when you turn to look at him, the loved up grin on his face gives him away. You grab the pipe while he swipes up the discarded clothes and you wrap your arms around his middle as you walk back inside.

Back in the bedroom, you settle in against the headboard once more. You lean your head on Cal’s shoulder as he lights the pipe, smoke billowing around you. His suitcase is still by the door, staring you down, but it doesn’t seem quite as confrontational as it did a few hours ago.

"I'm gonna miss you," you say plainly. You peck his shoulder as you take the pipe from him. "I think I can be OK with that, though."

"Oh yeah?" He squeezes your thigh, lighting the bowl for you. He jokes, "What changed your mind, all the sex or all the drugs?"

You giggle, elbowing him as you blow your smoke out. "I just think days like today will make all the ones we have to spend apart a little bit easier… gives us something to remember, something to look forward to."

"That's true, that's a good point," Calum agrees, setting the pipe on the table and pulling you into an embrace. "Wouldn't be special if these days happened all the time."

"Yeah…" You agree wistfully. "Still gonna have one of these days when I come visit you though, right?"

Cal nods emphatically. "Baby, you're flying in on a day off and I'll tell you something right now, very first thing, the panties are coming off and not going back on for at least that entire day," he declares with a naughty grin.

You relax against him, missing him already but taking comfort in making plans and sharing jokes. "See, bubba, you're learning," you tease. "What would be the point?"

582 notes · View notes

karygurl · 1 year

Text

infiltration? send the white mage! (ffxiv)

Takes place in Shadowbringers after returning to the Crystarium post-Il Mheg. After the pressure that the Eulmorans have put onto the Scions, perhaps it's time to return the favor. Word count: 8.6k

In the aftermath of the night sky returning to Il Mheg, there was much cause for celebration among both the fae and the people of the Crystarium. Once Cassandra had had a chance to rest, the strange tight feeling in her chest had eased somewhat, no doubt from the high tension in rushing to defeat Titania before the Eulmore army could overwhelm her friends… and the sudden appearance of Emet-Selch, Ascian and founder of the Garlean Empire. Something about the man had set her on edge in a peculiar way that she’d not felt around his other Ascian brethren, but she couldn’t put her finger on what the difference could possibly be. Strangely, the Ascian had introduced himself, asked for cooperation and then left. The odd nature of his offer hummed about in her mind as she headed for the Ocular, eager to discuss whatever the next step was in their grand scheme to save the world.

“If Eulmore’s army is to pose such an obstacle at every turn for us,” Alisaie began after everyone had arrived, “perhaps that is the next region we should focus on.”

Alphinaud nodded his agreement. “If we deprive them of their tenuous armistice by restoring the night sky, then perhaps at least some of the people will see Vauthry and his so-called peace for the lie it is. Without fear of retaliation from the sin eaters he purports to command, his army might fall apart or at the very least, reduced in capability.”

Minfilia nodded in agreement, but paused a moment later. “But… we don’t know where the lightwarden is. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anything about it, though I was confined to the tower, so…”

“I spent much of my time making inroads with the population, but did not think to inquire as to a possible lair for the lightwarden itself,” Alphinaud confessed. “Perhaps I can return to Kholusia and begin inquiries. Though for obvious reasons, I fear I should avoid Eulmore proper for the time being.”

“That would work to our advantage,” the Exarch announced. “As you were on your way back to the Crystarium, I received an invitation from Eulmore. It seems Vauthry intends to hold a masquerade ball, and I’ve been invited.”

“Planning a party so soon after retreating?” Thancred’s acerbic tone dripped from his words. “He certainly has peculiar priorities.”

“Was it only thee who hath received an invitation?” Urianger asked, and the Exarch nodded.

“Regardless, we now know that there is an event that we may be able to take advantage of. I fear I will be of little direct assistance, as openly bringing a guest would be out of the question. A more obvious trap I cannot fathom, and whoever is associated with me would be put in danger. However, it would be an event ripe for infiltration.”

“To make the most of our efforts, I propose to speak with the inhabitants of Stilltide and Wright, so that I can gather information while still remaining in the wings should aught occur,” Alphinaud offered.

Alisaie immediately lifted a finger to wag at him. “And I’ll be with you to keep you out of trouble, brother dearest.”

Thancred spoke then to Minfilia, her face falling as he did. “It would be best if you remained at the Crystarium. No doubt Vauthry and Ran’jit would be all too eager to put you back in a cage should you be discovered. So our best options to crash a ball would be…”

“I would venture forth, if thou wouldst have me.”

All eyes turned to Urianger. Thancred, to his credit, simply smiled at his friend and clapped a hand onto his arm. “Swimming to the island will be required in order to infiltrate it, and more than that, I need you to take care of Minfilia in my stead.”

The wave of disappointment that swept over Urianger was brief, particularly vanishing at the mention of swimming, and he swiftly agreed to take responsibility for the young oracle.

“That leaves you and me, Thancred?” Cassandra hesitated only a moment before nodding. “My skills in espionage are lacking for sure, but if things go belly up, I’ll be sure to get us out safely. That includes you, Exarch.”

Their positions decided, they moved on to planning. The Exarch would not be making an appearance in Eulmore in person; he would be sending an image in his stead. Though he could do so from the Ocular, the illusion would be more powerful if he could have a piece of the Crystal Tower brought into the canopy of the gaudy city itself. Thancred and Cassandra were tasked to carry a piece with them as they infiltrated the island. They’d swim in at the changing of the guard a few hours ahead of the event, remain in the derelicts for a time to make sure they hadn’t been discovered, then change clothing and sneak into the city. They’d plant the crystal in the main hall near the aetheryte plaza, which would give the Exarch a connection via the aether network to give his projected image greater strength. The Exarch assured them that he was capable of destroying the crystal when he was finished, so there would be no need to retrieve it should a retreat be necessary. Alphinaud and Alisaie would be in Wright and keeping an eye on the city as they conducted their inquiries, just in case their assistance was needed.

The twins headed off to the amaro rookery as Thancred and Cassandra saw to their preparations. Formal clothing and masks commissioned from the Crystalline Mean for them both, waxed canvas bags to keep their items dry as they swam, setting out in clothing that they wouldn’t mind leaving behind, and extra supplies. She followed Thancred's directions to the letter, adding a few additions of her own, before they headed out to to the amaro launch to catch their own flights to Kholusia.

On their way to the launch, they rehearsed a few sparse details of a concocted backstory: a new name for him as a free citizen, and for her as one of the bonded. “First time at a masquerade ball?” Thancred asked her from atop his amaro as she adjusted the pack at her back, trying to make certain it wouldn’t fall off as they flew over the continent.

“Afraid so,” she responded as they took off, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the rushing wind as they wheeled over Lakeland. “Despite the Wood Wailers’ love of masks, I don’t think masquerades are very common in Gridania.” She was about to mention the banquet in Ul’dah, but caught her tongue. Even though it had been some time since that disastrous evening, and for him an additional five years on top of that, it wasn’t a memory she cared to relive in any part.

“Ishgard is known for their balls. Stuffy affairs normally, but their masquerades have a certain charm,” Thancred said, his tone almost a little wistful. Missing the Source, no doubt.

Cassandra hummed in interest, the sound nearly lost beneath the din of the amaros’ wings. “Been to several of the former, but none of the latter. Lord Edmont requested that Alphinaud, Tataru and I attend a few when we first arrived, to prove that House Fortemps stood behind us and to show our status as wards wasn’t some kind of shameful secret. And after the Dragonsong War, there were so many invitations that I had to ask Artoirel to help me narrow down the offers to only the ones that would embarrass him were I to be absent.” She smiled ruefully. “Noble house drama is too complicated a web for me to comprehend.”

“Not at all,” he insisted, lips pulling in to a wide grin. “It can be fun to put together the pieces, and once you do, it’s hard to take an over-stuffed noble seriously when you know for a fact that he’s sold his wife’s jewels to acquire a painting of a dhalmel that he simply had to possess.”

“Truly??” she asked between bouts of laughter. She couldn’t imagine one of the men from the Ishgardian high houses delighting in something so absurd.

Thancred nodded, eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief that she hadn’t seen in them since they’d been reunited. “With that kidn of knowledge tucked away, those events become less drudgery and more of a circus. Perhaps next time the occasion arises, when we’re not fishing for information, I can be your guide.”

“I’ll take you up on that once we’re home,” she stated firmly with a smile, and was grateful when he returned it. The mere thought of a plan to come, some future certainty, helped to quell the butterflies in her stomach. They would weather this, together, and return home with a bright future waiting for them. She would make it happen.

Between Thancred’s knowledge of the guard rotations and both of their skill in traversing areas under water, they had sent their amaros back to the Crystarium before plunging into the depths of the sea and were able to arrive at the rear end of the derelicts beneath Eulmore with little fanfare. Several of the inhabitants gave them sidelong glances as they rose from the surf, but all turned a blind eye. People washing up from the ocean wasn’t particularly rare here, after all. The pair trudged together toward a particular tent at Thancred’s direction, and his contact there, a miqo’te-- or rather, mystel-- with burgundy hair and a toothy grin was happy to see him, even moreso once he’d carefully unrolled the bag he’d hauled with him and unpacked supplies to hand out to those who lived in the shadow of Eulmore.

Thancred glanced to Cassandra as she began to unload her own burden, and his eyebrows rose when she pulled similar supplies from her own pack. He hadn’t expected her to have thought to bring extra supplies for those in need down here, and he couldn’t help but grin. Of course she had. She was nothing if not helpful to a fault.

At his direction, the mystel bounded off to lead them to those best able to distribute the supplies, their arms steadily lightening as they were passed out. Food other than meol, blankets and cloth, fishing line and small sets of tools. Cassandra’s time in Eulmore had been brief, but Thancred apparently had made a much greater impression. Even though it had been several years since he’d been able to approach due to looking after Minfilia, a few people still remembered him and greeted him with hearty hellos.

Though he did his best to gently remind them that the Crystarium was a safe haven for any who’d wish to leave their place under Eulmore’s thumb, nearly all ignored his offer. The meol was too good, apparently. Unfortunate, but Cassandra understood. Though they wished to help people, she couldn’t force them unless they wanted their help.

As always, she was grateful for Thancred’s expertise. He seemed to know exactly where they could and couldn’t go to stay out of line of sight of the guards, knew who to talk to and when they needed to get ready. They took turns borrowing their mystel friend’s tent in order to change into their formal clothing, Cassandra struggling with the absurd amount of openings and tiny buttons lining the back of her gown. She’d faced and triumphed over similar circumstances in Ishgard when she’d first learned about their layered styles of dress that helped keep out the cold, but the temperate weather of Kholusia meant there was little need for layers and apparently all the more need for showing skin.

The deep red gown had actually been commissioned some time ago from the Crystalline Mean by a Eulmoran, but had never been sent for. It was a wholly impractical garment of course, so it had languished until Katliss had remembered its existence and dug it up. A few tailors had worked quickly to alter it to Cassandra’s form, and suddenly she’d been in possession of a dress that hopefully was close enough to pass as Eulmoran fashion. She couldn’t imagine what the point of it was though, with the wide yet tight openings over her cleavage and at the middle of her back as well as the slit that rode up her leg nearly to her waist. She was no prude, and between the thigh highs and matching red undergarments that covered her particulars the amount of skin out in the open wasn’t that ostentatious, but all the same, this was probably the most exposed she’d ever felt.

With a heaved sigh that she hoped might bring her some courage, she pulled on the delicate shoes with lace at the ankle and lacquered flowers decorating the heel before finally exiting the tent. When Thancred turned to look at her, she’d lowered her face, ostensibly to fuss with the slit at her leg to make sure it fell properly.

“Enchanting.”

“Hopefully they’ll be so enchanted that they forget to speak to me,” she said with a self-conscious huff of laughter, ignoring the warmth rising into her cheeks at the low rumbling tone in that single word. No doubt he was simply trying to reassure her; he’d have said the same no matter what she wore or how she looked.

As a last touch, he held out the mask she was expected to wear for the ball, a black and crimson piece of confectionery with similar lacquered flowered detailing as the heels of her shoes. The mask covered most of her face, curving around to the hollows of her cheeks with a delicate chain hanging from both sides that draped under the curve of her bottom lip.

Cassandra nodded but before accepting it, she combed her fingers through the loose waves of her air-dried hair before fastening it in a loose ponytail over her shoulder. Better to refrain from putting her hair up in the style she’d worn when she’d visited Eulmore before, she figured, then reached out for the mask.

She pulled it from his hands but he held onto the silk ribbons at its sides and stepped around her. Once she’d lifted it to her face, he worked to weave the ribbons in and out of her hair before fastening it, the dexterity of his fingers with the delicate straps surprising her.

“That’s quite a skill,” she remarked as he finished tying the mask, snug and secure.

“Both Minfilias share a love of ribbons,” he remarked quietly, and she could hear the warm ache in his voice.

Nodding once they were both set, Thancred bid farewell to his associate among the Derelicts and they worked their way toward the base of the city. The plan was relatively simple: Thancred, dressed a Eulmoran guard’s uniform that had been smuggled into the Crystarium by a former resident, would escort her into the building under pretense of her being a lost ball attendee. They’d head for the stairs, stopping briefly for him to quickly change and drop off the uniform somewhere in the army headquarters in the tower’s middle levels, before heading up to the Canopy and the masquerade proper.

The plan went off without a hitch. Thancred did all the talking, of course, much to her relief; he’d spun a tale of “this airheaded, well-meaning chit” sneaking off to look for seashells for her hair, or somesuch. To be honest she missed most of what he’d said, her heart hammering in her ears as she did her best to appear suitably chastened. Thankfully, it seemed that the door guard mistook her nerves for remorse and impatiently waved them both inside.

The stairs were no easier than the first time she’d climbed them with Alphinaud; in fact her heels made the climb even more strenuous, but slowly but surely they arrived at the Understory in the middle of the tower, strangely empty as she peered inside. No doubt many of the guards were at posts around the party.

She’d barely turned her back on the space to give Thancred some privacy, her gaze sweeping the stairs for any patrols or wayward guests, when he stepped around her in a tailored suit sleek and yet on the verge of pompous with its detailing and coat tails. Perfect for Eulmore. But how had he changed so quickly? She lifted her eyes from his outfit to his face to see a smirk pulling at his lips. He’d done that to show off, hadn’t he? She exhaled sharply with a smile. This man.

Cassandra wordlessly helped him with his mask when he lifted it to his face, reaching out for its ties though he hadn’t asked for her assistance. Though her fingers were nowhere near as deft as his, she still ensured that the mask was firmly in place and absently pulled a few locks of his hair free so that they wouldn’t snag uncomfortably. Both of their outfits now in place, they resumed their ascent.

The tower gave her even more chills now than it had during her first visit, almost humming around them as they climbed the stairs. The music swelled as they rose, as did the strange feeling in her chest, almost as if it were stiffening, pressure squeezing it tight. As they arrived at a doorway and Thancred cracked it open, looking for anyone who might notice their entrance, her hand rose to her throat to try and assuage the worrying sensation. Surely it was nothing, simply nerves?

Thancred’s eyes turned to her, and before he could ask, she nodded at him with a smile. She was fine, it must simply be apprehension making her jittery. Espionage wasn’t something she had ever been comfortable with, but surely Thancred had this handled, and the mask would prevent anyone from recognizing her.

His searching gaze didn’t let up for another moment, but he offered her a small smile in return and his arm. Wrapping her fingers around his elbow, she followed as he took one more look out into the hallway and then slipped them both past the door and onto a walkway that led directly to the Canopy.

The pair turned the corner into the open main floor, and their senses were assaulted with the myriad of overly opulent delights at every turn. The music rose to fill and echo within the soaring space overhead, food and drink placed strategically about the hall with their potent aromas wafting from every corner, conversation ebbed and flowed, laughter echoed in high pitched raucous nattering. Were it not so manufactured and fake, it might actually be inviting.

Cassandra pasted a smile onto her face, determined to not let her thoughts show as they usually did. She kept her hands wrapped lightly around Thancred’s elbow, likewise determined to not crush his arm in a tight worried grip and give away her anxiety.

She remained mute as Thancred greeted several nobles-- free citizens, she reminded herself-- with gusto, and they returned his greeting before they moved on again.

“Do you know them?”

“Not at all.”

Gods, she wished she had his confidence. Primals she could face, but scheming nobility? She’d fumbled far too much in Ishgard even after she’d become some kind of figurehead whose missteps were easily forgotten, and still hadn’t learned enough to feel confident in the slightest. Thank goodness he was here with her.

Had she been an outside observer, she would have easily believed Thancred was one of the free citizens of Eulmore. He had the confidence, the charisma, and projected the signature carefree attitude of someone who expected luxury with ease. How did he do it? She hoped she looked the part of a bonded citizen next to him, at awe at everything he did. It had been a good cover for the stumbling she knew she’d be prone to. And it had worked the last time she’d been in Eulmore with Alphinaud, had it not?

Their amble around the floor led them toward one of the tables piled high with assortments of food and bottles of wine. “Might as well avail ourselves of the luxuries while we’re here. Care for a bite?”

Her eyes scanned the food, trying to tamp down on the disgust she felt thinking of the people in the Derelicts subsisting on nothing but meol. The smells wafting from the dishes were pleasing but something about the food itself was revolting, turning her stomach in a sudden lurch. She shook her head quickly, hoping her reticence wasn’t noticed or perhaps chalked up to maidenly vanity.

“Don’t see anything to your liking?” he asked quietly, lightly, in case anyone was listening.

When Cassandra shook her head once more, he nodded and continued their circuit of the room on their way to the aetheryte. As they passed it she reached down and fussed with the lace at her ankle, while gently letting the blue crystal the Exarch had entrusted her with slip from her fingers and sink to the bottom of the shallow pool. To her surprise, a soft Thank you echoed in her mind in the Exarch’s voice. He must have been waiting for her and the connection was now made. Thank goodness, at least part of their plan had been accomplished. She allowed herself a brief moment to close her eyes and breathe-- regardless of what happened the rest of the night, that much at least was a success.

“Are you all right, my lady?” the voice that she’d heard in her head was suddenly in her ear and her face snapped up to see the Exarch kneeling next to her. He wore his robes as always, though he sported a full face harlequin mask beneath the deep cowl. She blinked as she accepted his hand, only the hum of aether beneath her fingertips giving away his illusion. Had she closed her eyes for that long, or had he simply blinked into existence? There was still time before his meeting with Vauthry; she hadn’t expected him to appear so soon, or so suddenly.

As she stood, Thancred nodded at their new companion. “Care to take a turn with her before your audience?” he offered lightly, eyes carefully sweeping the room.

Cassandra understood what Thancred was asking: he wanted to do what he did best, slipping into the shadows, without her at his side. It was no slight against her, and she knew it; she wanted him to succeed, and that meant leaving her to her own devices for a while while he put his skills to use. She placed a hand on his forearm, squeezing gently in reassurance before stepping back. Thancred gave her an exaggerated bow (though was it truly exaggerated, or was just that level of pomp expected in Eulmore?) before sauntering off and she quickly lost sight of him. Damn, but he was good at that.

“Well then,” she turned to the Exarch with a smile. “Are you my guest, or am I yours?”

“I believe we are both guests,” he said cheerfully as he pulled her arm to the crook of his elbow, “And we can experience this adventure together however we see fit.”

They’d only just stepped away from the aetheryte when the music swelled and nearly every couple in the Canopy stepped forward, surging toward the open plaza and taking up a position with clasped hands raised.

A dance. And they were in the middle of a sea of couples.

“I don’t know this dance,” she murmured, nearly in a panic. She wasn’t a poor dancer, but she wasn’t good at picking up steps on the fly, she needed practice. Would it be too visible if they were to sneak out to the balcony, perhaps? Would it be any better to visibly stumble her way through a dance she didn't know, calling attention to herself amid all of these people?

The Exarch shifted her hand again back into his palm, and once he’d lifted their hands to match the others on the floor, he turned to her with his head slightly bowed. “Fortunately it’s one I’ve learned, and a rather simple one at that. Unless you would prefer to quit the floor? I would leave the decision to you.”

He was asking her to trust his judgment, in so many words. He believed that this was something she was capable of. She nodded in a split second decision and though his entire face was covered, she could feel the smile behind the mask that was meant for her.

The strings rose together with one vibrato note, shivering in the air building anticipation, and then the rest of the ensemble began to play and the first step began.

The Exarch was right, the dance truly was simple. The steps were quite basic, the spectacle of it created by the upper bodies of the couples tipping back and forth though even that was an easy pattern. She quickly realized that the dance wasn’t for the sake of the dancers themselves; it was for those observing, to see couples in an inner and outer circle moving in grand observable gestures. How very like Eulmore, to pretend to be lavish and decadent for all but have its opulence truthfully meant for the enjoyment of the one overseeing it. Her eyes darted toward the lift to Vauthry’s chambers, but she quickly looked away and instead tried to concentrate on her dance with the Exarch.

The swish of his robes and the swaying slit in her gown were accentuated by the basic pivoting steps that led them around and around the inner circle of dancers. “I’m glad the dance is as simple as it is,” she murmured.

“Gaudy, but unsophisticated. Like much in this place.”

She bit down on her laughter, trying to remain quiet. “I was thinking the same.” Her voice lowered further. “The food is… strange, though. I’d suggest not partaking�� if you’re even able to, that is.”

“The food?” he murmured, head turning slightly toward one of the expansive tables laden down with foodstuffs. “Understood. Hopefully the lack of enjoyable victuals isn’t ruining your adventure?”

She chuckled. “The glitz and glamor are a spectacle for certain, but I’d prefer venturing to new places and getting to know people my own way.” Her eyes scanned the people around them. “Helping people, openly. Not working against them. Though unfortunately the former almost always ends up requiring the latter.”

After a particularly deep dip, they both snapped upright and she found herself pressed up against him as they moved, their similar heights even more pronounced. “Take heart, my friend. There will be many more adventures ahead of you, more memorable than even this.”

He had such faith in her, it confused her but also heartened her so much. “I hope you'll be there when--”

“Ah, the friend of our master is enjoying the reception!”

The Exarch halted his steps, Cassandra stopping with him, when the two fanciful jongleurs in Vauthry’s employ moved toward them in unison. The other dancers on the floor, forced to dodge them, murmured aghast until they saw just who had stopped them and then they moved aside gracefully.

“Our master awaits you, if you’ll mind our interception!”

Cassandra curtsied low, praying that the two women wouldn’t recognize her from her previous disastrous visit to Eulmore. Thankfully, they seemed more interested in Vauthry’s lauded guest.

The Exarch nodded slowly, before turning back to Cassandra and leaning forward to press her hand to the molded lips of his mask. “Find your partner, and be safe,” he murmured before releasing her and following the two comical assistants.

Cassandra followed after them, if only to use their wake to dodge the dancing couples about the floor. Once she was free of their spinning movements however, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. Her eyes swept the wide room but didn’t see Thancred anywhere. Should she hunt him down, or remain in one place? She didn’t want to disrupt his information gathering, and besides, his eyes rarely missed anything, so if she stayed put, then surely he would come across her at some point. And so she stayed, watching, listening in to any gossip she could glean from those standing nearby, but didn't encounter much beyond useless gossip that made her feel so out of place. It didn't help that the emotional hums she'd felt from those around her had all been quiet little hums. Carefree. Shallow. She'd expected as much from her previous visit, but having this vapid superficial hum around her when the world was suffering clenched her heart in an iron grip.

She’d been so busy watching the crowds that she’d missed the tall form slowly but confidently striding up to her until he was nearly upon her, the hunch in his shoulders and the red Ascian mask covering half of his face unmistakable. How--?

“Attending a lavish ball and I didn’t even warrant an invitation?” he remarked as he stood next to her, hands sweeping out in mock outrage. “One might begin to think you didn’t desire my company.”

Her eyes snapped from him to the crowd again. No one seemed to be paying the two of them any mind despite the man’s theatrics, and Thancred was still nowhere in sight. Emet-Selch seemed to be all words and no plans so far as she’d seen in his brief introduction, and despite his flair for the dramatic, surely he wouldn’t create chaos in the middle of the masquerade? He hadn’t seemed eager to cause a commotion in the Crystarium. But there was no telling if his words could be even remotely trusted, what his plans may be, or if he was hiding something to unleash on them. She shouldn’t underestimate him.

He noticed her watching the crowd warily and sighed. “None here would recognize this mask, save perhaps one. I’m simply another guest at the masquerade to these pitiful half-lifes. Would you care to indulge me with your company? Parties such as this are so dull without a good conversation partner.”

“What could you possibly want to talk about with me?” she asked in hushed tones, her eyes darting toward him and then back at the crowd. “You know who I am, and that I will do everything to stop you from another Rejoining. What more could we have to discuss?”

The disdain dripping from his voice was unmistakable. “Is that all you think about? Are you so eager to craft your entire persona around being ‘the hero’ that you’re above discussing the weather?”

She turned to him then, incredulous. “What weather? There’s only ever light outside!”

“As a permanent fixture of the world, it is therefore an eternal topic of discussion, is it not?” Emet-Selch sighed heavily. “Well then, what would you talk about with the others about the floor? The gaudy decorations, perhaps? The garish fashion and soulless, vapid guests?”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching his bored expression that gave nothing away. “If you think so little of this party, why are you here?”

“I would ask the same of you,” he responded, raising an eyebrow. “We both know your presence here isn’t due to the celebrations themselves.”

“Fine, then. Where is Kholusia’s lightwarden?” she asked, voice low, nervousness fluttering madly in her chest. Was she making a mistake asking him directly? Then again, he must already be aware of their plans to eliminate the lightwardens. What did she have to lose?

His lips curved into a wicked grin at the lower edge of his mask. “Ah, she speaks her mind at last. And what makes you think I know its whereabouts?”

“They’re integral to your plan. You’ve played your game long enough that I know you’re too good to not know the position of the pawns on the board.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, dearest hero, least of all with me.” He cocked his head then, his sharp yellow gaze watching her, assessing from behind his mask. “Though it won’t hurt to tell you that you’re closer than you know.”

Could she trust that he was telling the truth? Or did he seek to mislead her and have her chase down false leads? “It’s below the tower then?”

Emet-Selch sighed so heavily then, he nearly folded inward on himself as he allowed his head to droop. “What’s the use of a riddle if you’re just going to interpret it literally?”

“What’s the point of answering a question with a riddle in the first place??” she hissed back. Something about him rose her hackles, and she couldn’t describe why. She’d been taunted by Ascians before, and Emet-Selch’s words were hardly more cryptic than those of his brethren; on the contrary, he was far from forthcoming but neither was he obtuse. But something about him made her want to fight. “Either it doesn't matter if we know, or it does. Why leave it up to chance?”

He was still giving her that unamused look, his tone mockingly slow as if pointing out something that should have been patently obvious. “To observe your methods. I can hardly determine whether we’re suited to be allies if I’m unfamiliar with how you operate.”

“‘How I operate’??” Cassandra bit back her words, trying to temper the volume of her voice. The last thing she needed to do was bring attention to herself. “I don’t do games, Emet-Selch. Either aid us if you truly wish, or stand aside. You may be immortal, but our lives are limited enough as it is.”

His eyes seemed to dim then, his expression falling from derision to something… remote. Unreachable. He reached out then, one finger following the edge of her mask down her face and onto the line of her jaw. “That, I know all too well.” Leaning forward, his gloved finger lingered while his thumb hovered over her lip, the delicate chain at her chin growing warm. “Happy hunting.”

Emet-Selch pulled his hand away and in the same movement turned to leave with an exaggerated flippant flick of his wrist, his slow tired movements accentuated by his perpetual stooped shoulders. She watched him leave, the edge of her cheek tingling from the scrape of his glove, and once he’d disappeared from her sight around a corner, she pivoted and headed in the opposite direction with purposeful strides, not wanting to stand there any longer. She felt too exposed, needed to shake the burst of… whatever that had been, that had risen up in her. For much of the evening her nerves had keep her silent, but with him they’d nearly led to an outburst. Where in the seven hells had that come from?

She strode purposefully for the open air walkway that surrounded the Canopy, hoping that leaving the crush of the crowd inside would help her head to clear. Perhaps Thancred would spot her easier if she were alone and not one face in a sea of them.

She inhaled the sea breeze that tugged at and threaded through the low ponytail at her shoulder as she stepped out onto the suspended walkway over the Derelicts. The path was specifically created to hang out over the edge of the island, hiding the plight of those below from sight, and she leaned against the railing to instead look out over the horizon and try to make out the sun setting behind the glare of light.

The sight was demoralizing, were she to be honest with herself. Before she’d come to the First, she couldn’t fathom the concept of light as a source of pain or misery. But now that she was here, observing it take over and stagnate overhead, robbing this world’s people of any chance of peace, she had finally understood the calamity that the Exarch and Minfilia had worked so hard to delay and avert. Watching the light aether suffuse and stale and stand still was terrifying, and she needed to stop it.

“Taking in the beauty? Perhaps I could fetch a mirror for you instead.”

Cassandra had been so wrapped up in her musing that she startled at the congenial voice next to her. Too distracted again. With a quickly indrawn breath, she attempted to turn in a somewhat coordinated manner to the tall man standing at her side, his gaudy dodo mask encrusted with gemstones.

He offered her a deep bow and a wide smile that she certainly didn’t trust, though she returned his gesture with what she hoped was an appropriate curtsy all the same.

“It’s quite an honor to spy a fresh face! I don’t recognize you. Even with the masks, I know most of of the residents of Eulmore. How are you enjoying the masquerade, mysterious damsel?”

“It’s… like a dream,” she hedged. A dream of something pretty but wrong, something that became less beautiful and more horrific the longer one stared.

The man leaned in, eyes sweeping over her quickly and lowering his voice to what she assumed was meant to be sultry murmur. “Then don’t wake up, angel. I’d like to stay a while. Unless your patron isn’t one for sharing?”

She blinked, not sure how to respond to that; was she even supposed to? She knew what he was implying but she was a long way from Buscarron’s Druthers, from the drunks who had propositioned her and were easily turned aside with a laugh and failing that, a jab from her elbow. The unspoken rules of high society were ever elusive to her.

At her silence, he chuckled as if he’d simply told a joke, though somehow she doubted that had been the case. “To whom do we owe the pleasure of your company? Perhaps someone I know?”

Cassandra had practiced their cover story, had recited it over and over in her head, but now when she needed it the most, it vanished from her mind and left her standing there wide eyed and with no response to offer. The air seized in her lungs and any words she attempted to summon turned to ash on her tongue.

The man’s eyebrows rose as her silence stretched on, then he settled into another smile. “Come, then, I hear the next dance is about to begin. We’ll take a turn about the floor together and see if we can spot your keeper.”

He reached down, snatched one of her hands in his, then raised it in what she assumed was some kind of deferential manner before pulling her along to the dance floor. Was this all right? She didn’t particularly want to dance with this man, but she couldn’t think of a polite way to extricate herself. Besides that, did a bonded citizen have the right to refuse a free citizen of Eulmore? And surely causing a scene would be worse than acquiescing? It was only a dance, she could hang on for that long.

The man in the dodo mask pulled her to the outer circle of dancers, the hand grasping hers turning it in his grip. “There now, you’re a natural. Have you been taught--”

“There you are.”

Cassandra struggled to remain still and not exhale in abject relief at the familiar voice, Thancred appearing at her side as if from thin air and wrapping his arm around her waist. The simple reassurance of his touch had her leaning against him more than she intended.

The man eyed Thancred’s tight hold on her briefly before he allowed his hand to slip away from hers. After giving Thancred a wink and a nudge in the shoulder, the man wordlessly bowed to excuse himself. Thancred accepted the gesture with a genial smile and pulled her hand into his free one once he was out of the way.

“Are you all right?”

Cassandra sighed heavily, trying to keep from falling against him entirely as her tension fled. “Embarrassed is all.”

Before she could say more, the music swelled around them and the couples all moved this way and that to take up their positions. Right, the man had said another number was about to begin.

Thancred lifted her hand between them, lowering his head to press his lips to her knuckles with the barest hint of pressure before he spoke quietly, the words only for her. “Care to dance? It would give us a chance to speak.”

She nodded immediately, the private smile that curved his lips in response nearly but not quite hidden behind her hand. She didn’t need justification to dance, not if it was with him.

His arm remained at her waist as their joined hands rose to their sides, and she recognized the dance as one she’d spied earlier when she’d been waiting for him and watching the crowd. Thankfully, she had the general gist of the movements, and Thancred’s lead allowed them both to step to the rhythm alongside the rest of the crowd of dancers with relative ease.

“What happened?” he began, his gaze darting to sweep their surroundings for a moment before returning to focus on her.

Her lips pulled into a frown; she didn’t particularly want to admit to her failure, but keeping things from him served no purpose. “I just choked over a very easy question. Nothing happened, just… nerves. Subterfuge will never be something I’m good at.”

He hummed in dissent. “The fault lies with me. How did you end up on your own?”

As she explained the events that led to the Exarch being called away and Emet-Selch approaching her, she felt his fingers at her side curl tighter against her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again, his voice lower than before. His eyes were carefully sweeping over every inch of her with an intense focus that left her mouth dry. It made her feel strangely exposed.

Thancred was ashamed that he hadn’t noticed that Cassandra had been alone. She’d been right to stay in one place, the better for him to notice her as he took stock of the room, but somehow he’d managed to miss her. How could he have missed her? Beyond the dress that put so much of her on display, she was real in a way no others in this entire misbegotten city were, to the point that not even keeping herself safe was enough to jeopardize her genuine nature. Not ideal for a mission requiring subterfuge, perhaps, but as far as their companions went, she had still been the best choice to accompany him. Should they encounter the lightwarden themselves, she had the best chance of getting them out alive. For that matter, it was also the case should the city itself turn on them.

Honestly, there shouldn’t have even been a point where Cassandra needed to respond and offer answers, he should have been beside her. He should have realized that the arrogant leader of Eulmore would call for the Exarch at his whim rather than the appointed time. Still, he’d thought he’d had a moment to do what he did best: listen in from the shadows. Cassandra, as skilled and powerful as she was, was still a novice in stealth. He’d wanted just a short while to listen rather than cajole, in case that might yield different results, but alas, he’d had no luck whether from the shadows or from his precisely crafted questions. Though some of the free peoples of Eulmore were eager to speak of the sin eaters on the upper levels that resided with Vauthry, as if being in their presence was some honor to be proud of, none had seen any out of the ordinary or particularly powerful that would imply to him that a lightwarden was present.

If not here, then where? He fervently hoped that it wouldn’t come to that; perhaps Alphinaud had seen or heard something come alight in his efforts.

“Really, I’m fine,” she insisted, and that brought him back to the present, her small smile an attempt to reassure him. She squeezed his hand, and reflexively, he returned the pressure. “Did you have any luck?” When he shook his head, she sighed. “Me either, beyond that madman’s riddle, if it’s even worth considering.”

“It’s more than I’ve heard all evening,” Thancred offered, his smile returning. “Perhaps I should be taking lessons from you.”

The thought was so absurd, she couldn’t help but smile. “I’d happily teach you what I know, though unfortunately it boils down to simply ‘find an Ascian and hope they wish to brag about something instead of kill you outright.’ It’s an awfully rare occurrence, unfortunately.”

The thought of Emet-Selch speaking to her gave him pause. Though Thancred hadn’t seen them speaking together tonight, even during their first encounter there had been something about the way the Ascian’s eyes lingered on her as if he found it difficult to pull them away, and it bothered him. The weight in that gaze had felt more personal than simply an Ascian contemplating the Warrior of Light.

Thancred coaxed Cassandra into going over the conversation she’d shared with the Ascian one more time, but there wasn’t enough there to fill in the gaps. Something about it needled at him; he’d need to find a way to get some answers from the bastard.

If he’d taken to giving her hints and riddles, no doubt he’d be back sooner than any of them wanted. Thancred needed a plan for that, too.

Once the dance had ended, he released her waist but not her hand, gently pulling her along to the the outer walkway. When he found a secluded spot with no other prying eyes about for the moment, he allowed her hand to slip from his grip and he leaned his elbows onto the railing. Though the sun had set, light shone overhead as it always did. Unending, unchanging.

Cassandra pressed herself against the railing next to him, eyes looking down though she couldn’t see the derelicts that she knew were below their feet.

“Where did you find her?” The question fell unbidden from her lips, and after a moment, she continued. “The last time you were here, I mean.”

He knew who she was asking about, even before she elaborated.

Minfilia.

His eyes never left the horizon, though his mind retraced the path he’d taken, the steps he’d raced to cover. His voice was flat when he responded. “In the depths of the tower. Below the waterline.”

Cassandra inhaled sharply, her heart clenching tight in her chest. That meant… not just a cell, but one with no windows? That poor girl…

She reached out, resting her hand on his sleeve. “It can’t have been easy for you, coming back here. We’ll find a way to fix… this place,” she said, sounding like a promise. “It may not be perfect, but I--”

A bellow from above shook him out of his reverie, and he and Cassandra shared a look before he immediately pulled her toward the main circling stairwell that led down and out of the tower. The bellowing continued, punctuated with heavy thumping; apparently the meeting with the Exarch had ended, and it hadn’t gone the way Vauthry had hoped. Not that this outcome was a surprise; certainly, it was the one truly predictable thing about the evening.

Thancred hoped that the Exarch had been correct in his assertion that once his projection was finished with its work, or forcibly destroyed, the crystal left in the fountain would take care of itself. For him and Cassandra, it was time to leave.

He held her hand as they ran down the stairs, hoping to get to the bottom and out the main gate before Vauthry had any time to finish his tantrum and bellow orders. It brought to mind his escape from the tower with Minfilia, though at least this time they were both dressed to fit in as just another pair of guests as far as anyone knew.

And Cassandra’s hand felt different in his. He’d grabbed Minfilia’s wrist, desperate to pull her to safety, but he hadn’t felt right doing the same to his current companion. A defenseless young girl was different from the vaunted Warrior of Light. Her delicate fingers curled around his, their constant pressure serving to remind him that she was with him.

When she squeezed tighter in panic, he felt the angle of her grip change and he pivoted just in time to catch her as she pitched forward. Surefooted, he straddled two steps as he pulled her close, her body pressed to his with their hands still intertwined.

Exhaling heavily in shock, she took a moment to replant her feet and nodded stiffly to him. Even with their hurried flight from the tower, he was reluctant to let her go but stepped back and continued forward, moderating his pace more carefully and keeping her hand tucked away in his.

One the base of the spiraling staircase was finally in sight, he slowed his descent and pulled Cassandra tighter to his side, murmuring to her, “Laugh with me.”

Her awkward barked laughter would have had him wincing, were he not already schooling his expression. Changing tactics quickly, he continued, “Ah, if only you had something amusing to laugh at, for instance the time my charge and I discovered all of Urianger’s clothing had been replaced with flower garlands by the pixies. He emerged from the Bookman’s Shelves to greet us wrapped in nothing but blooms, looking like nothing so much as a float in a Little Ladies’ Day parade…”

Her laughter then was genuine, perfect, the sound warming him. He added in his own laughter to sell the act and merrily waved at the guards at the door, acting for all the world as if they were two carefree nobles out for a bit of air.

When one of the guards tried to stop them, Thancred shooed them off with a haughty gesture and another laugh and the two of them paraded their way through Gatetown, keeping up the merry charade.

Once they’d passed the large cliff that hid the wretchedness of the outer hovels from the gates of the city, they rested against the side of the stone to shake off the feeling of the tower.

“I wish we’d had better luck,” she murmured, her tone holding a hint of bitterness. “If only I’d tried harder--”

“Your job was to infiltrate with me and ensure that we both made it out alive,” he reminded her gently, “and by my estimate, you’ve done just that. Well done, Cassandra.” The buoyant smile that lifted the corners of her lips was contagious, its warmth spreading into his chest. He held out his arm to her, admittedly not in an effort to keep up the charade but just to keep her close. “Care to join me on a walk to Wright? I believe there’s a particular pair of twins who await our arrival.”

She accepted his arm gratefully. Somehow, despite the myriad of tense and stressful moments at the ball that nearly made her break out in a cold sweat just thinking about them, she wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end.

“Are you planning on keeping your dress?”

She blinked, considering the question as they walked arm in arm. “I… I’m not sure? I hadn’t considered it beyond tonight. I suppose it’s tailored for me personally now, though I can’t imagine where else I could possibly wear it. Isn’t it a bit much?”

Thancred had no need to cast his eyes over the figure beside him to remind himself how the dress looked; he’d already memorized the way the deep crimson highlighted the fawn tones of her skin, the teasing window to the curve of her spine, the impossibly high slit and near sheer stockings that hinted at the shapely legs beneath. He had no doubt the image would haunt him for nights to come, regardless of whether she ever wore it again. “I believe you promised me an Ishgardian ball, when we return. Perhaps it might be suitable, if you can manage to keep from freezing to death in it.”

Her laughter settled a tension in his chest that he couldn’t define. The road to Wright ahead of them was devoid of danger as far as he could sense, Minfilia was safe in the Crystarium, and he had a woman on his arm. Not just any woman, but the one who proffered the closest thing to the concept of “home” that he’d ever felt, who was finally by his side after years of waiting for her arrival. For the first time in a long time, he was truly content with where he stood.

#ffxiv #shadowbringers spoilers #cassandra tygrova #thancred waters #crystal exarch #emet-selch #the title is a joke with my spouse #for all the times this game has been like #“stealth mission? send the white mage!”#“diplomacy? send the white mage!”#“grocery run? send the white mage!”#anyway this really was just an excuse to have a masquerade ball somewhere #and let cass have a fun time with her boyfriends #as a treat <3 #while wearing the nier casting gown hahaha

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