Borne of Bullets and Bloodshed - Chapter Twenty Four.
Word count - 2,798
Warnings - Graphic violence
Taglist - @katie007123 @clarinette07 @lilacmeadows @mostly-marvel-musings @skyfullofsong123 @captain-asguard @innerpaperexpertcloud @longlostinanotherworld @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @dumb-ass-writer (Tag list is open! Please DM to be added!)
Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three
“Wake up, you pig bitch. Wake up properly, that’s it. I want you to be fully aware of everything I’m going to do to you. Who’s in charge now, huh, white devil?”
Thrashing wildly, she just about managed to land a foot in Uzoma’s crotch, trying to spit out the cloth that was stuffing her mouth, screaming through the muffle, panic flooding her when she realised her wrists were cuffed.
Her wrists were cuffed.
She was on a bed.
No. Not again.
“I will enjoy every last second of this.” Punching her hard in the eye, his hands then grasped around her throat, one slipping to open her shorts. “Maybe I choke you too, huh? Slap you awake again when you pass out, like this.” Hitting her hard across the face, the sting smacked her cheek. “But first, I take the part of you I will ruin before I slit your throat.”
Panic, rage and horror flooded her wildly as she thrashed against him, his hand intruding into her shorts, trying to tug them down and defend himself from her kicks at the same time, Ayo standing in the corner, looking like he was enjoying every moment of it, but at the same time, his face was passive, like he’d seen it a million times before. It was his eyes that glittered with interest.
No. She couldn’t let this happen to her twice.
It wouldn’t either, for it took just two moments between her brain paralysing her legs in fear and the door flying open for Tyler to appear, Oba behind him. Ayo made a run towards him, gun primed, but he wasn’t quick enough. He also didn’t bank on the stone-cold effectiveness of a man whose beloved had been taken from him, Tyler shooting him straight between the eyes without a flicker of hesitation. No one harmed his Lil.
Turning his attention towards Uzoma, Liliya had never witnessed rage like it, azure blue eyes locked upon him, venom pulsing, Tyler eyeing him with all the danger and power of a lion about to strike a helpless gazelle. “You’re in trouble now.”
Those words, delivered in little more than a quiet rumble, were the precursor to Uzoma being clutched around his neck and literally thrown against the wall, Tyler advancing on him to repeatedly administer his boot into his stomach, ribs and face. “I’d threaten you here, tell you that if you harm a hair on her head again, all this and more would befall you, but I won’t. You touched her once, that’s all it took. Now you’ll die for it.”
While Tyler continued to kick the life out of him, Oba assisted Liliya, pulling the scarf from her mouth, watching her point at Ayo’s body. “Cuff keys. In his front pocket.”
Scattering back, he turned his former boss’s cadaver over, fishing in the swathes of denim until his fingers met the cold metal, taking them out and rushing to unlock the cuffs. “Are you alright, can I do anything?” He was surprised when the first thing she did was put her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
“You saved me, you didn’t have to go and fetch Tyler, but you did. Go and pack your things, quickly. We’re taking you with us.” He smiled and nodded, racing from the room, Liliya swinging her feet down and taking a few deep breaths before she stood up, Tyler still kicking a by now very bloody and battered Uzoma.
Seeing her stand out of the corner of his eye, he ceased, moving to her in an instant. “Do you want to do it, or shall I?” Even so fuelled by blind rage, he hadn’t wanted to stop until he’d literally kicked the life from the man who’d attempted to rape the love of his life, he knew Liliya was the kind of woman who might want the chance to do so herself.
Wordlessly, she pulled his knife from the carry case on his belt, flicking it open before walking to Uzoma. She grabbed his wrist and dragged him onto his back, straddling him to crouch just above his chest.
“I will show you no fear,” he gasped, face mangled, blood pouring from his mouth.
“I don’t care what you will or won’t show me. The only thing I am interested in is watching the light fade from your eyes. I am only regretful that I couldn’t make you suffer longer.” Pressing the knife down over his heart, she forced it through his chest, Uzoma grunting his last breaths ragged and laboured as Liliya watched, face completely devoid of emotion, waiting for his eyes to fix in the glaze of death.
“You had it coming.” Spitting in his face, she then stood up, wiping the knife on his shirt before returning it to Tyler, letting out a long sigh as he put his arms around her.
“Are you alright?” He knew the tremors he felt wracking her back had nothing to do with alcohol withdrawal. As soon as he’d focused upon her after killing Ayo, he’d seen the terror in her eyes.
“I am at the moment. Adrenaline helps, but I doubt I will be when it hits me properly,” she told him, kissing the centre of his chest.
“I’ll be right there when it does. Come on, brave girl. We need to move. Love you,” he spoke, kissing her head. He knew it would have brought back a world of trauma for her, being cuffed to a bed, Uzoma’s intent just as barbaric as what had happened to her just over four and a half years ago. All he could do was be her rock when it did hit her fully.
“I love you too. You’re right, let’s get the fuck out of here. Don’t worry, I’m okay.” They made a start to leave the room, Liliya suddenly pausing, taking her phone from her back pocket and snapping a picture of Ayo’s corpse. “We will have his entire crew after us once they find the bodies. We may need leverage along the way and there is one person who will likely give us that, should we need assistance.”
“Precisely. Although I hope we don’t need to.” It went very much without saying that their trust was at zero in capacity at that moment, running from the scene and collecting their belongings before wading through the water, Oba appearing with a sack slung over his back, ammo around his body and an AK-47 over his shoulder.
“Grenade?” Liliya asked, suddenly heaving.
“I’ll go. You get your throwing up in before we have to move quickly.”
“Causing a distraction?” Oba asked, Liliya nodding before turning to vomit. She retched a couple more times, managing another deposit before catching her breath, Tyler running from the bathroom just before an almighty boom sounded, the grenade blowing through the water to the side of the compound.
Looking around the wall, Oba made a motion with his hand that the way was clear, watching the gate guards run off. “Go, now. Open the gate, I’ll bring the pickup around. I swiped Ayo’s keys.”
They carefully moved out from the cover of the building, Tyler providing the armed cover while Liliya waded over to the gate, pulling the sliding bar across to facilitate the huge structure to part, opening inwards and offering the perfect cover for them to hide behind, Oba driving the Mitsubishi around.
Throwing their bags in the back, Tyler sat up front while Lilya took the rear of the double seated cab, “Luckily this one has a full tank. He doesn’t use it much, even less now.” Oba snorted, laughing softly and looking relieved. He was free, at last. Sadly, he and his new friends were not clear, though.
Liliya saw them first, opening her window and taking aim, peppering the oncoming men who ran after them from the compound with bullets, ducking when one appeared over the perimeter wall, tattooing the side of the pickup with a hail of machine gun fire. Oba jammed the gears into third, making the engine work hard to get through the water, the huge wheels sliding as the churned-up mud beneath the water offered little in the way of traction.
“Come on, do not get stuck now!” He hissed, his heart leaping against his ribcage. “Liliya, if you feel sick, I have packed refuse bags for you to use. Easier than a bucket when we are on the move.” She hadn’t even thought of that. Oba was, as ever, hugely resourceful. She felt more compelled to bring the fire fight in that moment, the remaining men running back, likely to retrieve a vehicle in order to give chase.
“I propose we avoid the main drag, lose them in the side roads. It will mean we have to go slower because the drainage is always poorer, but we will hopefully remain out of sight from any of Ayo’s crew out and about. Those vehicles you are looking for are the white and green pickup trucks. They’ll be together too, easier to spot,” he told Tyler, swinging left down a small street that was utterly flooded out.
“Where are we headed?”
“The border. If we can cross into Benin tonight, it would be better than remaining within Nigeria. Either way, my former crew will likely not give up without a fight as soon as they realise Ayo is dead. He always told them to watch out for me leaving, I know that he did, hence the guards now giving chase without knowing of what we did. My life truly was not my own there. Thanks to you two, it now is.” He smiled, reaching to grip Tyler’s shoulder before turning again, the truck splashing through the labyrinth of side roads. “This way, we get to higher ground also. The main streets are all low lying.”
“How you doing back there, baby?”
“Okay for now.” She spoke much too soon, not having time to retrieve a bag from Oba’s sack and instead, opting to hang out of the window to vomit instead. “Alright, that has to be my stomach empty now. If I can just dry heave for a while, I will take that.” Reaching over the seat, he pressed his hand to thigh, Liliya stroking his forearm as he smiled at her.
“Imagine the stories we’ll have to tell the kid one day, huh?”
“We will have to censor about seventy percent!” Those words made him laugh softly, agreeing that was the truth. He was glad to see her smiling, even amidst the perilous situation they were a part of, after what had almost happened to her as well. She was fighting to hold herself together and once she came down, it’d likely hit her hard. He’d be there to help her landing be as soft as possible, though.
“Oba, they just turned around the last bend they took. The guy who guards the gates is hanging out of the window, people must be telling him which way we went,” she spoke after checking behind the truck, seeing the front of a white one coming into view, the unmistakable smiley face t shirt she’d noticed the gate guard wearing earlier catching her eye.
“We need to lose this vehicle, but fuck, it is perfect to get through this flooding. I am in a quagmire, friends. Do we proceed, or go on foot?” he asked, turning again and hitting a patch well drained, flooring it and speeding down the streets, women shouting at him as he splashed them.
“Keep the truck, you’re right it is perfect. Lil and I can shoot at them as soon as they gain any real ground upon us.” Oba nodded, turning again. They hit a lucky break with another relatively clear street, but of course, this meant their tail would too, the white pickup gaining on them.
Tyler readied himself, loading a new clip into the AK he held, rolling down the window. “You take the right, I’ll go left.” Liliya nodded, moving back to behind Oba, pulling herself out of the window and taking aim. While Tyler attempted to take out the driver, Liliya had another target in mind, firing directly at the engine without pause. If the radiator blew, they had no transport.
“Keep straight, Oba.” He called back into the vehicle, firing continuously until finally, his effort paid off. The driver succumbing to the hail of bullets, ploughed off the road into a building, the car totalled.
“You are a mean shot as ever, big man,” Liliya praised him leaning over the seat and kissing him, Oba offering a fist bump.
For that moment, they were unpursued, free to put as much distance as they could between themselves and Lagos. Once out of the main drag of the downtown area, they stopped to stock up on provisions, hitting the road once more.
While they travelled, Liliya made good use of the bags, wondering if once she’d gotten to a week, her sickness might calm down more. Six days in and it was reducing, but still, she suffered. She’d read that it could be up to two weeks, but that some people began to find their stomachs settle after the first seven days of dying out. As she threw up again in the refuse bag, she prayed it would be the latter.
“You’re shaky,” she observed later as they drove through the evening, Oba taking a nap in the back, the sun a giant, red ball upon the horizon. It was truly beautiful.
“I haven’t had a drink today. As soon as I can, I’m stopping the pills too. It isn’t fair that you go through all of this and I remain as someone with dependency issues. It’s time I pulled my head out of my arse.” He looked across at her fleetingly, noting the expression of worry on her face.
“Are you sure that now is the right time? From the booze alone, we’re talking a period of up to two weeks for the nausea to stop. Mix that with opioid withdrawal and honestly, you’re going to be putting yourself through hell,” she reminded him, Tyler squeezing her hand where it rested on his forearm.
“I’ve been cutting my dosages down, so I think I should be able to hack it. I’ve looked into it and I’m looking at a week of suffering, so if we can hole up in a hotel somewhere so I can dry out, then I should be okay to continue travelling only suffering the less hellish side effects of withdrawal.”
As she topped up her fluids, glugging back one of the many bottles of water they’d stopped to purchase, she remained unconvinced. It must have showed, too. “You know, I thought I could at least count on you, my girlfriend of all people, to support my decision.” He muttered dryly.
“I do support you,” she began.
“Yeah? Tell your face that.”
“Tyler, I’m just not sure you’ve thought this through, how sick you’re going to be. What if we have to move on while you’re halfway through withdrawal? Can you even do it without medical assistance?” She asked, wanting to be rational in the face of what she considered to be a very gung-ho attitude.
“At the dose I’m on now, it’s doable.” Was he kidding himself, she wondered? Perhaps in denial over it so he could forge ahead and tackle ceasing the habit head on? It made her feel a little guilty too, knowing it was her he was doing it for. Her and the baby. He’d surprisingly been okay on a lower dose so far, but stopping entirely would be a completely different matter.
“I just...” She paused, thinking carefully. “I have faith in you, I’m here for you, but I don’t want you to rush yourself through a process that might not be definable by a definite time period, when truly, time is what we might not have. Maybe it might be better to wean yourself, make it more gradual, so you don’t crash headlong into the ravages of withdrawal.”
He tilted his head slightly and shrugged, a tactic Liliya recognised he resorted to when he knew he was wrong, but wasn’t ready to admit to it. She left it, taking advantage of a moment of not feeling like death warmed up as she continued to sip her water, looking out over the horizon.
He was being cavalier because of what she knew he feared most; being an addict still when the baby was born. Tyler was utterly hellbent on being a better father this time around, so much so that listening to reason wasn’t on his wavelength. By the time he did begin the process though, he’d soon wish that it had of been.
Borne of Bullets and Bloodshed - Chapter Twenty Three.
Big thanks to all of you who are still reading and supporting this story. It’s been such a joy to write and I’m glad it is being enjoyed so much. I certainly love the enthusiasm you all show for Tyler and Liliya together. I think they make a good pair, too ;)
Word count - 2,635
Warnings - Details of alcohol withdrawal
Taglist - @katie007123 @clarinette07 @lilacmeadows @mostly-marvel-musings @skyfullofsong123 @captain-asguard @innerpaperexpertcloud @longlostinanotherworld @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @dumb-ass-writer (Tag list is open! Please DM to be added!)
Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two
“Stop slamming the fucking door!”
“Turn off the light!”
“Stop touching me!”
“I don’t want to talk, just leave me the fuck alone!”
“I’m not fucking hungry! Stop forcing me to eat!”
“Why are you taking more Oxy? That’s two more than usual!”
“I’m taking more because, as you probably haven’t realised, I’m not drinking either, so attempting to offset the same symptoms you’re going through right now in myself by keeping dosed up.”
“Why would you even do that?”
“Because I’m trying to look after you, Lil. I thought it’d be supportive of you as well.”
It took him every last ounce of patience not to snap back at her. He knew it wasn’t her fault, why she was so irritable, the withdrawal heading into its third day. According to what he’d read online, she’d be this sick for a while and, worryingly to him, ideally should have been doing her drying out under medical supervision.
In the end, he became so concerned that harm may befall her, he spoke to Oba about trying to seek out medical assistance.
“I did wonder, but I did not want to be rude and ask if it was a drinking problem also. I saw how much she drank when she first arrived, of course. She has done the right thing for the sake of the baby, though. As for getting her to a doctor, or a doctor here, I would not think possible. It has begun to get so treacherous out there that Ayo has paused all our comings and goings until the rain stops and the drains have chance to filter away the flood water again.”
Those were words he was not too fond of hearing. Especially since her nightmares had begun to haunt her again and as such, she was too afraid to fall asleep. In short, she was an utter wreck and most of the time, he couldn’t even comfort her. She was snappy, surly, argumentative or just plain shut off from him. It made life very difficult.
It also filled him with his own dread about weaning himself off pills and booze. Telling Liliya that he’d stopped drinking in order to look after her, as well as a little gesture of solidarity, hadn’t been strictly true. At least four times a day, she drove him to sink a few shots of whatever alcohol he could lay his hands upon, usually rum, which Ayo had in good supply.
He’d always clean his teeth after though, so Liliya wouldn’t smell alcohol on his breath. He imagined that such would be nothing short of torture when all she craved at that point was the sweet kiss of numbness offered by booze. Sometimes, though, she’d be lulled by it, beaten down and upset, wanting nothing but him to hold her.
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry I’m being such a bitch to you. It just feels so fucking awful,” she apologised, curling up next to him, her head in his lap. “I realise how horrid I must be to deal with. Just know that I appreciate you more than anything, taking such good care of me.”
“I know, it’s alright. I get it, you can’t help it. Do you feel any better at all today?” Stroking her hair, he watched as she wrapped her arms around his thigh, shuddering so hard, she vibrated the entire bed before moving quickly to throw up into the bucket. That part had been getting worse, the sickness.
“No. I feel like utter shit. Whether we keep this baby or not, though, I think this is my wakeup call. I cannot go back to drinking now, after going through this even if we decide not to become parents. I suppose we’d better talk more about that soon, hadn’t we?” Sitting up again, she pushed the bucket away, turning to take the bottle of Lucozade passed to her, another purchase from Oba after he’d gone out prior to the roads becoming impassable.
“Yeah, we should. I don’t know what the hell else we can add to what we’ve already discussed, though,” he sighed, Liliya sipping her drink carefully. Lucozade and ginger biscuits. They were her sole diet, both of which she couldn’t keep down for very long, but they helped her feel a little less sickly and weak for a short time, at least.
“How about honesty? Honestly, do you want to become a father again, regardless of the fact our relationship is so brand new. Present circumstances aside, also,” she put to him.
“Yes, I do. I’m fucking terrified I’ll fuck it all up again, though.”
“Maybe this baby is your reason not to, now that you know how it felt to fail a child, how it haunts you. I’m not saying we should proceed for that sole reason alone, but perhaps, like me, they are your chance to clean up as well. Your reason to be better,” she spoke softly, taking a deep breath as she held a hand to her chest, praying to her stomach to stop lurching. “My reason to be better, too. We’re not bad people, we just have slight skewed moral compasses, being mercenaries. Hell, my pay out from the stone is enough money for us both to start afresh. Maybe we quit this life for our child?”
“What if we break up?”
“Then we share custody of the child and continue living better lives, just separate from one another.”
“Where will we live?”
“To be decided, I think. Let's see if we can get out of Africa alive first.”
“And you’d really be okay with being shackled to a fuck up like me for the rest of your life, whether we’re together or not? The kid will be our link there, of course.” Shaking her head, she moved to sit astride him, hugging him tight.
“You are not a fuck up. You are a wonderful man who I love with my whole heart. This is why, no matter how soon, or how dangerous, the thought of aborting our baby makes me feel tremendously sad. He or she might not have been created from love, but that is what they will be born into. Who knows either? People who have been together for years and years and then have children break up all the time. Who’s to say we will just because we have only been with each other for a short time?”
“You really want to keep it, don’t you?” She nodded, Tyler stroking her neck with his fingertips, leaning in close to kiss her forehead.
“Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll figure it all out. That’s what we’ve done so far. Now, for this fucking rain to stop so I can get you both out of here.” He stroked her tiny swollen bump, smiling up at her, Liliya covering his hand with hers and kissing him again. “I love you, Lil.”
“I love you too, big man.” She paused from kissing him, yawning, then granting him her lips.
“Come on, curl up with me and try and get some sleep. If you have bad dreams, I’ll be right here, holding you tight.” He might have thought of himself as a fuck up, but in that moment Liliya counted her lucky stars for having a man as loving and patient with her as Tyler was while she went through such horrible withdrawal.
She slept for two hours, Tyler dozing too as he listened to the sound of the rain pattering into the two feet of water already outside, hoping it would begin slowing at some point. He’d planned to head out in the dead of night on foot, return back up to the more populated part of Lagos which they’d passed on their way down, steal a suitable car for driving through flood water in and hit the road. Sadly, it was easier said than done.
“What are you watching, baby?” Liliya asked, fanning herself with an old magazine she’d found while over in the communal area, finally at day five feeling like the sickness was beginning to subside a little. She’s read it could take up to two weeks for the severity to curtail, though.
“How many men he has walking around up there. They weren’t here back when we arrived, but he’s paranoid now. They’re there for us, to keep us here, regardless of what he claims about his personal security. He anticipates that we’ll leave under the cover of darkness. There are two of them who take it in turns to walk around the upstairs balcony. They don’t see me, but I see them.” Looking through the crack in the top of the door, he watched them, never leaving their vantage point directly overlooking the room he and Liliya were in.
“What do you propose?” With only one way out of the windowless room, it would make it difficult to escape undeterred. “Actually, I think I have an idea. Ayo knows I am ill, Oba telling him that brilliant lie that I have flu, so they are used to seeing me or you heading up and down the stairs at all hours to empty my sick bucket. One of us throws a grenade from the bathroom window to create a diversion and we sneak out that way.”
“We’d need to watch out for the guys who patrol the perimeter as well, but in theory, it’d work as long as it was flung far enough away from the compound.” Coming back over to her, he reached to stroke her face, glad to see a touch of colour had returned.
He’d got her through the most immediately dangerous point of withdrawal, and while it wasn’t over yet, he hoped she’d seen the worst. However, as he sat down, she dived off the bed and expelled the contents of her stomach into the bucket. He worried what it could be doing for the baby, not receiving much of a share of any food she ate since it came back up too quickly. If Liliya was beginning to look a little thin, then surely the foetus must be suffering too.
“At least I have stopped shaking, but the sickness, oh god, it’s ridiculous. Two fucking weeks of this to endure, minimum? Then everything else that will continue to linger?” she then realised how monumentally selfish she was being at complaining. “It is worth it though, for you, little one.” She stroked her stomach lovingly, lying back down again after swilling her mouth with a sip of cola, Tyler bending to kiss the tiny swell of her belly.
“I can’t wait until we can find somewhere for you to get checked properly, make sure everything is okay. When and where that’ll be, I have no fucking idea, though. Bearing that in mind, when do you think you’ll be up to travelling? I’m anxious to move as soon as possible, because it’s only a matter of time before Ayo finds out who we’re running from.
“We’d be gunned down before we could even attempt to leave this room, he’d show no loyalty to Goran if he can profit from our deaths. Fuck knows how much we have on our heads now, a massive figure though, in all likeliness,” he shared, Liliya nodding.
“When I have the vomiting under control a little. I still feel so damn weak and feeble at the moment. I cannot sum up any energy. I know I need to pull myself together, though. Shall we plan for two evening’s from now?” Looking at her, he knew that really, she needed about another week of rest, but it just wasn’t possible. “No, I can read the look on your face. We’ll go tomorrow. I’ll just have to get over it.”
“No, that’s not what I was thinking, Lil,” he began, taking her hand. “You need at least another week to be back on your feet properly, is what I thought, but we just can’t do it. That doesn’t mean we can’t wait an extra day, though.”
“I would rather move sooner. Being here is like living in a minefield. We’re waiting for it, the inevitable time we’ll be blown to pieces.” Even though weak, suffering and not at her best, she was still harder than iron. For that, he was immensely proud of her.
They had all their items packed away by the following afternoon, ready to leave as soon as the sun began to set. Luckily, the rain had stopped, but still there was plenty of flood water under foot, meaning their escape would be marred by trying to run through it. Stealth would be impossible, but they couldn’t just wait it out.
Although she still felt awful, every fibre of her body still in all out protest at being forced to function without alcohol, Liliya looked forward to moving on from there. Climbing the stairs to go and empty her bucket, she thought on a plethora of ways to attempt to return to the UK faster, wracking her brains as she poured away vomit, sighing at the length of the journey they had before them as she exited the bathroom.
The pain that suddenly hit her in the back was staggering, her hand gripping the bucket before she let go, her body convulsing, muscles stiffening, a hand clasping over her mouth. She hadn’t been hit by a stun gun in a long time, but recognised it instantly as she flopped back against her assailant, Uzoma punching her in the head before dragging her along with him as she lost consciousness from the blow of his fist.
“Watch the door. She pays for what she did to me. Let Ayo in shortly, he wants to watch before we shoot her and then take out her boyfriend. We have a very nice payment coming to us from the massive fuel company who want them both dead.”
Watching Uzoma drag Liliya’s lifeless body inside, handcuffing her to the bed and stuffing her mouth with a scarf, Oba nodded obediently, waiting for his boss to join them. “If you see Tyler, you shoot him. We get this done quietly and split the cash three ways. This is why I waited until everyone else was gone, then us three profit more. Also, you can pay me my debt and then all is clear with us.” Ayo handed over a gun fitted with a silencer, patting his shoulder before he entered the room.
All he had to do to find freedom was stand there and wait. He knew exactly what Uzoma was going to do to her as well, he’d shame her, rape her and beat her before putting a bullet in her head, making her last moments on earth as miserable as he could in punishment for Liliya embarrassing him by beating him down so efficiently.
Wait, and he was free. Wait and he could start his life again. All he had to do was wait.
Hearing her come around within the room he guarded, Liliya screaming through her gag, he felt his heart wrench. They had been nice to him, they were going to be a family, they didn’t deserve to die in the dirt out in Lagos, where no one would recover their bodies and no one, other than those who were chasing them, would ever know how they had vanished off the face of the earth. No, they were his friends, no matter how new.
Oba knew as his feet took him away from the door and propelled him down the stairs at a run towards where Tyler was, he was better than that. He could take his freedom right now and leave with them. His morality was perhaps the only thing Ayo was about to find out that his money could not buy.
Thor oral drabble is here! I hope you guys like it, my broken down, over-stressed brain cannot judge whether it is even remotely arousing or not xD
Tagging the Real Housewives of Asgard xD
Eating pussy, cunnilingus, going down, tonguing, whatever you want to call it, your boyfriend? He loves it. And yes, Thor is an absolute champion at indulging you with his mouth.
He literally cannot get enough of you, the feel of your womanhood against his tongue, your scent, your taste, the way he loves to knead your boobs or squeeze your thighs within his big hands while his tongue licks the most divine warmth through you. He craves it all.
He also loves to surprise you by burying his mouth between your legs whenever he can, too, often without it being a precursor to anything else. He’ll come along, crouch at your feet, remove your undies and feast. Once done, he’ll smile and let you continue with your day. It’s almost as if he doesn’t even do it for you any longer, but for him, how much he loves it. You? You’re his candy, you suppose. Not that you mind one bit.
A perfect instance of this is when he finds you relaxing on the cushioned comfort of your window seat, curled up reading a book as the sun streams through the window, the scent from the many flowers you planted out in the garden filtering in through the open window, the fragrant blooms adding to the relaxed atmosphere.
“Can I help you?” Raising an eyebrow at him over the pages of your book, you succeed in making Thor smile as he grabs your sweats, pulling them, your underwear and socks off, kneeling before you, taking in the beauty of your sex.
“Yes, my love. You can lie back and enjoy yourself.” Of course, you know that this is exactly what will happen, Thor nearing his face to you, kissing your navel, his mouth descending slowly, the heat of his lips pressing lower, and lower, until...
“Ahh!” You gasp, the tip of his tongue teasing your slit, a tentative lick that makes you tingle instantly, his big hands pushing your thighs further apart, opening you up more to his adoring gaze as well as the ministrations of what can always be constituted as an eager tongue. Eagerness is not yet within the realms of his repertoire, though, still gently exploring you with the softest of touches, your slit bathed with warm delicacy.
You shift a little beneath him, vying for more purchase, Thor chuckling. “Patience.” You’re not sure how you’re meant to have any of that at all, knowing how proficient he is with his mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing, escalating you in this way, your soft skin skimmed with fluttery licks until you begin to feel yourself clenching and growing wet with want, your tight little hole becoming dewy.
“Ahh, there it is.” Flattening his tongue against your opening, he greedily tastes what he’s worked to evoke, like a bear dipping his mouth to a sweet honey pot. He drags it through your folds, tasting you keenly as you buck a little against his mouth, gasping at the sudden contact. That firm lick has you glimmering already, the warm flush of pleasure creeping through you, like vines growing and curling around your insides, flowers starting to bloom.
Your hands fist in his hair as he begins circling your clit, swirling licks making you pant, your tiny bundle swelling, his hot breaths adding to the stimulation as watches you writhe for him, sucking on you, his hands gripping your thighs. He’s more than the god of thunder to you. He’s also the god of ruining you with his mouth.
He loves watching you lose control because of him, like right now as pleasure glimmers through you, hot circles being administered with relentless gusto, your pussy becoming tight and wet as he drives the need from you strongly.
He works your little bud back and forth with focused, unrelenting licks, his fingers pulling you open like a flower to make it stand out more, circling around and around as your legs quiver so much, it’s as if you have a chill. Whatever ice you feel, though, it’s chased by the pure fire his mouth conjures within.
His beard adds delicious friction and contrast to the wet heat of his tongue dragging through your slick, sucking, kissing, licking, absolutely devouring your pussy, your hips rising as you undulate against each lick.
The vacuum of his lips around your clit sends little shocks shooting up your spine as you pant and mewl, his fingertips leaving crescents upon your hips as he holds you steady, groaning gutturally around the mouthful of your cunt he sucks upon with ardent urgency.
“Oh, Thor!” Your voice breaks as he goes back to flicking licks over your clit, increasing the pressure, panting against your soaking folds as your slick coats his hungry tongue.
“Come on, my beauty. Cum for me.” Sparks skitter through you as each lick transports you further to your bliss, Thor eating you to your ruin with every ravenous stroke, groaning around you, sucking, flicking, moaning as he feels you further dampen his mouth. “Yes, that’s it. Come on.” He further encourages as you begin to cry out, yanking his hair and writhing, your body a mess as you shake, rushing towards it, almost...
There it is, the release that has you flying through a sky exploding with constellations, somewhere up in the deepest of space just like where your lover came from, your entire body glowing with the thrum of exquisiteness. You’re breathless and light headed, Thor tucking you back into your clothes, grinning and kissing your forehead before leaving you in peace.
“Enjoy your book.”
Enjoy your book? After that, you’re not sure if you even remember how to read!
A/N: y’all ready for some nonsense? Well welcome to this crazy little series lol the idea of these three in a fic has always intrigued me and I’m finally getting around to writing it. I laughed the whole time writing it. This story probably won’t end the way you guys think...and I fuckin LOVE that. Okay. Here we go 🙃
Slow deep breaths. Get it together. This isn’t your first time on set, his set, but the fact that Hollywood’s two largest leading men are starring in this off the wall production of his makes you feel super on edge. 7 am and a constant hum of exciting chatter buzzes all over set as you sip your caramel latte, ignoring your anxiety, ignoring the thrill in the air. Fuck, it annoyed you that you felt like this since you’re usually not one to fangirl or anything but—those two—yeah you can’t deny the tingle in your legs as you pace to Taika’s trailer. Hoping he will bombard you with a list of shit to do; you really need to occupy your brain with anything else. Before you reach the door, you hear the faint sounds of Queen extending out into the lot. Smirking to yourself, you don’t bother to knock, pulling the handle back and letting yourself into “Don’t Stop Me Now” blaring in the room. Wincing at the sheer volume so damn early, you find Taika sitting at his table laptop open and on.
“GOOD MORNING.” He tries to shout over Freddie’s determined singing and you just shake your head with a laugh, taking a seat across from him staring at his screen. “CHRIS EVANS IS ARRIVING ANY MINUTE NOW.”
You roll your eyes. Is he really expecting you to talk like this? “TAIKA TURN IT DOWN.”
“AND HEMSWORTH’S IN HIS TRAILER.”
Huffing a frustrating sigh, you go to find the source but the moment you stand, the music stops. Looking over your shoulder with an irritated side eye, you meet Taika’s mischievously smiling back with a slow shrug. You plop back down in your seat with a tired chuckle.
“It’s too early for your bullshit.”
“First day and you’re already showing up hungover? So unprofessional.” A knowing grin snakes over his scruffy freckled cheeks. Slipping your sunglasses up onto your hair you laugh and reach for your coffee.
“If some goof dweeb who’s supposed to be my boss hadn’t fed me tequila shots all night, I’d be at a 100% and not 75%.” You quip, your smirking lips resting against the lid. You really need to stop going out with him on work nights because he always goes too hard. And you gotta go hard with him. It’s in his stupid charm. Finally breaking his stare from the screen, his soft round eyes dazzle and wrinkle over at you.
“75? That’s way too high...I’ll have to do more damage next time.”
Ignoring the flip in your stomach, you roll your eyes and take another drink of your latte. His flirty banter is all too natural and best to ignore. You’ve witnessed so much you almost have to brush his shit to the side. Don’t be a sucker. Glancing back at him you notice his eyes still lingering down your neck, down to your fingers holding on to your cup. Before you can even get on him about his gaze, a PA bursts through the door, announcing,
“Chris Evans is arriving.”
Which means it times for you to get to work. PA exits as you stand from your seat, ready for your orders. Taika slightly pouts as he lists what he needs from you for a few hours and the first few items on the list: deal with the Chris’s. Fuck. This is the moment you care about how you look today. Since you had such a good time last night, you rolled out of bed and pulled on a baggy hoodie, threw your hair up in a bun and touched up your eyeliner to get to work on time. Yeah sure, Taika was the one that got you fucked but he didn’t tolerate tardiness so you tossed yourself together the best you could.
“Just give them a run down of the schedule for the day, y’know, make sure they’re comfortable and need anything.”
Tapping your notes into your iPhone, you nod and mouth your instructions back to yourself, turning professional mode on before your anxiety takes over again. No more time for that. It’s time to get to work.
“Yes sir...” you type up one more note before locking your phone and slipping it in your back pocket, ready to face the two most gorgeous white men on the planet. Since Chris Evans just arrived on the scene, he’ll be first on your list. It’s fine, it’ll be fine. It’s fine. Taika’s frowning but partially smirking at the range of emotions turning over your expressive mug. Are you actually nervous? He’s never seen you nervous before. It’s kind of cute. Before you head out, you knock your sunglasses back down on your nose, inhale a deep breath and heave a soul cleansing sigh.
“Alright...check back in with you in a bit boss.” You shoot him awkward finger guns with an uneasy smirk then turn on your heel to hit the door. He could almost laugh at you acting all weird about dealing with the Chris’s but instead of teasing you, he should be a good boss and encourage you.
“Hey,” Taika calls you back pushing the door open, “you got this.”
You flicker a frown with crooked smirk. Uplifting words? From this guy? And not relentless teasing? That’s fuckin unusual. Instead of justifying...whatever that was...with an answer, you just walk out and focus on the task at hand: Chris Evans. Walking to his trailer, you listen to all the women on set fawn and giggle about Evans strutting his sweet ass onto the lot already waving and speaking to everyone. You’d heard that he was such a delight to work with, which is cool and all, but that plus he’s fine as fuck...danger. Keep it professional. Thank God no one is buzzing around outside waiting for him to come out. Knocking twice, you wait a minute for him to answer but when you aren’t too sure if you heard him or not, you walk on in pushing your sunnies up on your crown.
“Uh...good morning Mr. Evans I’m YN, Taika’s right hand and—OH FUCK!”
Laughing out of pure embarrassment, you blind your peripheral with a flat hand. The image of his pale muscular back imprinted into your mind’s eye forever now. Shit, it’s just as toned in real life as it is in the movies what the fuck. You definitely should have knocked again. Totally didn’t mean to walk in on him changing his shirt. But Chris is hardly bothered, turning to face you, still shirtless, with a smile and the shirt he’s changing into still fixed between his fingers. Now would be a good time to start apologizing profusely...
“Oh my god I am so sorry Mr. Evans—,”
“Chris, please.” He interrupts, totally checking you out unsure of what to do with yourself. Messy bun and shades apparently does something to the man. And your cute ass awkward giggling, still hiding behind your hand...you’re really Taika’s assistant?
“Uh—Chris—um...I am so so sorry for barging in like this it’s just I thought I heard you say something but then again probably not I don’t know I’m like still half asleep or whatever and honestly a little hungover but I will NEVER ever just intrude like this I am SO SO SORRY Mr. Evans I MEAN Chris.”
Chris can’t get enough of how twitchy you are, rambling and apologizing like this. While you prattle on, Evans pulls on his shirt, then leans back on his table folding his arms, admiring your nervous but oh so pretty smile once your defenses are down a bit. So damn cute he can’t help but wonder if Taika’s ever made a move. Chris chuckles at you shoving your hands in your hoodie pocket just to tame your awkward movements.
“Hey, hey, relax. It’s all good. I just got off a plane, needed to change. No big deal.” He says to soothe you, nibbling on his bottom lip as he sweeps his heated gaze over your frame. He wants you to notice him noticing you. If anything, it only makes you even more fidgety. “Let’s forget about it.” Even though you both know that’s not going to happen.
“Uh...sure. Okay. Um...so yeah there’s like a breakfast catered if you’re hungry and sometime after that Taika will do some big welcome speech thing he likes to do but uuuh...I just wanted to check in and introduce myself. If you need anything, please let me know.”
God you’ve got to get out of here. Practically sweating under his smoldering stare you hardly remember half the shit that’s on the schedule for the day. Barely mumble through all that. You’ve got to get out of this hoodie or you’re going to pass out.
“Noted sweetheart.” Holy shit he says that in real life? You could roll your eyes. “It was really nice to meet you...”
“Right,” his smile snakes up his flawless cheeks, “YN.” He draws it out all nice and slow like it’s chocolate melting on his tongue. You could be the chocolate. You need to go.
“...oookay then Chris.”
You damn near kick the door open, excited to feel the cool morning hair hit your flushed face. Shoving your sunglasses back on, you fan yourself, damn near running away from Evans’ trailer but then immediately slowing down when you realize your next destination. Chris Hemsworth. Shit.
Pulling your hoodie off, you blow a big huff of breath from your mouth, grateful for some relief. Even if it’s just for a moment since his trailer isn’t too far from the other Chris. Tying your hoodie around your waist you silently hope and pray that Hemsworth isn’t on the same bullshit as his co-star. You can’t take another pair of pretty blue eyes beating you down with desire or whatever the fuck. Men in Hollywood are flirts, everyone knows that, but no one’s ever blatantly eye fucked you before. If that’s what Chris Evans was even doing. That’s what it felt like he was doing. Between Taika and Evans, this day can’t get any weirder.
Knowing that Taika and Hemsworth are best friends actually takes some of the pressure off. Even though you’ve never had the pleasure of really meeting him, there’s still some sort of adjacent comfort with him. You’d heard so many outrageous about him from Taika it’s like you almost knew him but this will be your first time properly meeting Chris, especially professionally as his buddy’s assistant. Gratefully he’s already coming out of his trailer as you’re walking up. Both wearing white muscle shirts, Hemsworth points at you with his sunny smile.
“Heeey! Twins.” What a fuckin goof. You can’t help but snicker. “You’re YN, correct?” He asks sitting on the steps at his door. Nodding, you both reach out your hands to exchange a firm shake. His warm hand overcomes yours, both smiling and shaking maybe a little too long. Well it’s nearing to that point so you snatch your hand from his stern grip.
“How are you this morning Chris?” Averting your gaze to the concrete, you anxiously rub your sweaty palm on against the thigh of your jeans. That could mean nothing. Please mean nothing.
So this is who Taika’s always mentioning, Hemsworth thinks to himself, scoping how curvy your hips and waist are since they’re in his eyeline. Exposing a little midriff with your cut off tank. You are quite the pretty girl and without even trying. Taika had already warned him via text that you were feeling the aftermath of too many tequila shots with him last night. That he should take it easy on you but that’s all out the window now that he’s looking at you. Oh, he gets it alright. Why Taika can’t help but swoon over you, even if he doesn’t even notice that he is. Perpetrating that “you guys are just mates.” Hemsworth leans back on his elbow with his classic crooked grin. Here we go, another pair of sparkling blue eyes barreling into your skull. You’re too hungover for this.
“I’m doing much better now. Are you my escort?”
Instead of rolling your eyes, you just shoot Chris a modest grin, shaking your head.
“No, actually Mr. Hemsworth I’m just here to properly introduce myself and check in, you know, make sure everything is in order...”
But you’re too distracted by his silence, his steady gaze, that you just drift off, wondering why he’s staring at you like that. He wouldn’t dare cross that line with Taika would he? His warm eyes say yes. What’s up with this day?!
“An escort to craft would be in order...and you are here to please me...” he gradually stands off the steps, looming his gigantic body over you, “...right?”
Jesus Christ. No man should have this much...mass. His blonde hair spiky and his rugged five o’clock shadow, so fuckin hot. No one should be this devastatingly sexy and in your face like this. It’s rude as hell. Hemsworth seems like the type that never stops until he gets what he wants so might as well comply. You don’t say a word, just turn and lead the way. Chris following close behind, eyes on the way your hoodie sways back and forth with the switch of your hips. You know he’s watching you, you can feel his gaze burning at your waist, your frayed hem riding up each time you take a step. You can’t think of anything to converse about he’s so distracting. Hemsworth can feel his effect on you and it’s so arousing.
“How‘s your hangover?” Chris asks, widening his steps to walk beside you.
You hum a chuckle. “Talked to your buddy I see. It’s tolerable.” It’d be gone if these two weren’t such a mindfuck.
“Can’t let Taika bully you into overindulging.” He nudges your arm with a friendly grin.
“I don’t know how he does it either.” You snicker because it’s true, he has a natural way of getting you wasted. No matter how determined you are not to get that far. Chris laughs along with you, loving the sound of your laugh in his ears.
“Well you don’t know a good time until you’ve had a few drinks with me love,” the pet name has got you peering up at him, “I can take care of you. Better than Taika.”
A blind man can read between the lines on that. There’s no way you’d set yourself up like that, especially not with Taika as your boss. But Hemsworth really wants to get you alone, get that supple body up against his while you get all shy and giggle. If Taika wasn’t going to make a move, then maybe Chris should take a chance. No way in hell Evans is going to try anything; he loves to keep it quiet and professional while shooting. So he’s got a clear shot. All you can do is laugh at his proposal.
“I’m sure you would Chris but...don’t think that’s a good idea...”
Approaching everyone who’s enjoying the meal catered by one of Taika’s favorite chef’s, you notice him standing talking with some of the crew about the scenes for the day. Quietly, you hope he notices you so he can take you away with some menial task.
“Taika won’t mind,” Chris pushes, “He can join us if that’d make you more comfortable.”
Persistence on a man can be irritating, no matter how attractive they are. He knows why you’re saying no, hence why he’s offering up his best friend to sway you but nah. As Taika talks, he keeps a watchful eye on you and Chris who can’t stop smiling down on you clearly irritated. He knew he was going to say or do something inappropriate to piss you off. Chris can’t help his flirty ways if he tried. Taika rolls his eyes.
“Look,” you go to place a gentle hand on his bulging bicep but rescind the gesture, “that’s sweet and all but let’s respect the dynamics here, Mr. Hemsworth.”
You hope that makes yourself loud and clear with his advances but Hemsworth barely listened, too mesmerized by the warm golden tones under your soft skin. Seems like you need to get away from him as well. And right on time, Taika calls you over hopefully with more work to do and away from them. Waving a weird goodbye to Chris you scurry away to your “savior” who hopefully knew you needed a rescue. You almost thanked him as you approach. Taika wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders, asking,
“Are you hungry? You should eat something.”
Hemsworth watches the two of you go, observes how close Taika holds you to him. So protective. His thin lips near your ear as he speaks to you. Chris laughs to himself. That’s fine. You can go but Hemsworth isn’t done with you yet.
“What’s up Hemsworth.”
Glancing to his left, he sees Evans coming over to with his wide smile, arms wide open. Hemsworth breaks his attention off you and Taika standing off from everyone, conversing intimately to give this big lovable goof a big hug.
“Been too long brotha.” Hemsworth grins wrapping his arms around Evans’ shoulders. “You look good mate. New trainer?” He holds him by the shoulders, looking him over.
Evans just laughs. “Nah man. Same guy just more weights, stricter diet all that bullshit. You know how it goes.”
“Oh yeah...” but Hemsworth’s attention goes right back to you and Taika laughing and acting stupid. Evans follows his gaze then moans softly to himself.
“Fuck there she goes. Taika’s girl is cute.”
Hemsworth glances at Evans with an annoyed smirk. “Please don’t call her that.” Taika’s girl? Never. Not while he’s around. Evans side eyes Hemsworth, slipping his hands in his front pockets then looks back to Taika distracted by some crew and you lingering behind him on your phone.
“What, they look mighty chummy.” Evans commentates. “Am I missing something?”
Hemsworth just smiles, lifting his chin and says, “Taika’s oblivious, claims they’re just friends but I can tell...he’s into her...”
Chuckling, Evans rocks back and forth on his feet with a silent oh then smiles, taking in what Hemsworth is saying. “And you?”
But he just shrugs in response, and Evans just huffs a laugh and nods. Oh this could get interesting.
“Noted.” Evans smirks, keeping his eyes glued on you smiling at whatever’s on your screen.
You’re giggling at a stupid meme Taika sent you last night while you guys drank the night away, discussing the movie and other random shit in his fancy condo he’s renting. But suddenly, you feel the hairs standing on the back of your neck. An uncomfortable tension buzzing in your shoulders. Stretching your neck with a grimace you look over to your left to find the Chris’ staring at you with devilish smiles and hungry eyes. Even from feet away, the intensity of their coquettish focuses stirs you up, fuckin rattles your nerves. Between the two of these physically exquisite men, you’re in for a world of trouble. Your chest heaves harder the longer you hold their heated stare, growing considerably wet. And as if they could tell, their smiles lengthen and you panic.
“Gotta go!” You shout, retreating, scaring Taika and some of the crew he’s speaking to. What the hell? Taika searches for the cause of your outburst and spots those two laughing, following you run off towards his trailer. Oh this is going to be a problem.
You slam the door shut to Taika’s bathroom all flustered and mixed up. The tingling that once only existed in your legs has now spread all over. Shaking your hands and hyperventilating, you pace the small floor, cursing to yourself and shaking your head.
“Shit. Shit,shit, shit...” you whisper to yourself, fighting with the small voice in your head coaxing you to give yourself some relief. You shouldn’t but your pussy is on fuckin fire. You shouldn’t...not in Taika’s bathroom at least. Buuuut, fuck it, you rip your jeans open and shove a desperate hand into the damp crotch of your panties. Biting back a needy whimper, you rest your forearm on the back of the door and get to work on your clit. You’ll just make it quick. Knees buckling, fighting back rambunctious moans, you picture Evans and Hemsworth and gush all over your hand. Images flickering across the back of your eyes motivating your climax. Evans’ back. Hemsworth’s arms. Evans’ pink bottom lip. Hemsworth’s scruffy chiseled chin. Evans’ smile. Hemsworth’s accent.
“Shit! Fuck!” You softly sob against the door, so close to dissolving. Replaying the series of images over and over until you cum all over your fingers with a long almost too loud moan. Gasping for air. Almost ashamed for how hard you came but damn, you feel better. Back in control. Your phone vibrating over by the sink alerts you that you’re still at work. Quickly you put yourself back together, wash your hands and grab your phone, and swing the door open. Just to find Taika standing there, knuckles up prepared to knock. The two of you startled.
“Are you okay? What the hell happened back there?”
“Nothing!” You chime with large frightened eyes. Fuck you almost got busted getting off in your boss’s bathroom. A new low? “Had to pee, that’s all.” You nearly clip him as you shove your way pass him, still completely bewildered, and fly out the door. You need somewhere, ANYWHERE, to be.
Summer placed her phone inside of the mount and made sure that it was secured before she sat back in her bed, getting comfortable with the mass of pillows supporting her back, and smiling tentatively. “Hi, guys.”
Someone tell me this isn’t a joke???? Please???
Sis, blink twice if you need help.
Summer rolled her eyes. “Ya’ll better stop. I know it’s been a minute since I’ve hopped on live, but it hasn’t been that damn long.”
Summer continued to read the comments where more than a few people pointed out she hadn’t gone live on Instagram in over three months. Her mouth dropped. “Ya’ll lying. It has not been almost six months, has it?” She placed her hand over her mouth when people started dropping dates in the comments. “Okay, I stand corrected. Damn, I’m sorry, guys.”
Don’t be sorry, bestie. Do better!
Damn, ya’ll are so entitled. Celebrities have lives too.
What life? We all been in quarantine.
Rich people quarantine be different from us poor folks, I guess.
“So that’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk about.” Summer cleared her throat. “And I’m going to try really hard to make sure I word what I want to say as clear and as effective as I can, but I know this is still going to end up as a salacious headline. So, it is what it is.”
Oooh, Summer about to drop some tea.
I don’t see her wedding ring, ya’ll…..
I’m scared omg.
Watch this be nothing but a role announcement.
She shrugged and took a deep breath. “Okay, so a few days ago, I did the Buss It challenge, after being harassed by Sanda. And can I just say that filming was a challenge in and of itself? Not necessarily the movements but preparing? I’ve got two kids, twins, who are like the Tasmanian devil. I was literally up at 3 something in the morning trying to record it because my wild children won’t let me be great.” She chuckled. “Kids are something else.”
Summer truly jumped through hoops and was a damn near acrobat trying to figure out when she could not only get herself done up but actually record the challenge. Being the perfectionist that she was didn’t help, but the fact that she couldn’t recall the last time she’d put on makeup and dressed up was a whole other fiasco.
Quarantine definitely brought out her bum side.
“All of that aside, I truly was satisfied and happy with the final product when I posted it. In hindsight, I should have just left it that, but I wake up every day and choose chaos, so I decided to read the comments.” She blew out a breath. “One of the most frequent comments and really, insults, I’ve received my whole career. Primarily, since I was cast as Storm, revolves around how I look. I.e., my weight. I’ve been called fat, obese, out of shape, and so many other things.”
It was 100% true. The minute Marvel announced that she’d been chosen to play Storm, the racists came all out of the woodworks. She was too short, too chubby, too dark, too black. And Summer didn’t care, not a bit.
“Even,—and I’ll tell you guys this, when I first started my SS training, that’s what I call it, SS for Storm Shape, there was a—person who worked for Marvel at the time who came to visit me while I was training.” She smiled thinking back on that day. She could still recall it so clearly. “He basically was pissed because to him, I still looked the same, fat and out of shape.” She adjusted her top and shifted in her bed. “That same day, I deadlifted and bench-pressed over 200lbs” She paused for effect. “What I need for people to stop doing is stop fucking projecting—and I’m going to cuss in this, so if you don’t like it, oh well. I work for Disney, but I’m a grown ass woman, and I’m going to say what I want.”
I am screaming. Summer said we getting alll the tea today!
So, it’s wrong to point out that someone is physically unhealthy now, cool?
The problem is that no one wants to see a fat superhero. It’s not realistic.
^^^^ Tell me you have a small dick without actually telling me you have a small dick.
“I saw Lizzo, whom I adore, post a Tik Tok where she basically said that she workouts to have the body she wants not what ya’ll want, and honestly? Same. She said that her body type is no one’s fucking business, and that’s so true. Ya’ll love to hop on this internet and pick apart people you don’t even know and criticize bodies you don’t even have to live in and move around with. And for what?” She shook her head, slamming her fist into her open palm as she spoke. She was fully invested now. “I know we in quarantine, but damn, pick another hobby cause being a bully is not it, sweetie.”
I really needed to hear this today.
Using Lizzo as a point of reference makes everything you’re saying null and void. Lizzo is clearly overweight and at risk for diabetes, heart disease, just to name a few…..
I been saying this! You can’t look at a person and say they’re unhealthy.
Bodies come in so many forms, and all are beautiful.
“Now, I bring all this up because a lot of people were commenting on my Buss It challenge and pointing out the fact that I’ve gained weight, and guess fucking what? I have, and you know what else?” She leaned over to whisper while covering her mouth with her hands for focused effect. “I don’t care.”
Summer laughed and shook her head. “As others have pointed out as well, yes, we have a gym in our house. I 1000% acknowledge the fact that having the resources that I do as a celebrity and someone who has money puts me in a different category. Hell, my husband has a whole fitness app. I recognize that. If I wanted to keep up with my workouts, emphasis on wanted, I could have. I own up to that, but I just didn’t feel like it, and that’s okay. What’s not okay is to send and leave mean messages calling me all kinds of names.”
Summer had thick skin. She always had. Growing up with her family, who always ensured to feed her self esteem and make sure she knew that she was beautiful, definitely paid off. It was just a combination of quarantine and not having a lot of opportunities to keep herself busy with work that had her feeling some type of way.
“And that’s something else I wanted to bring up.” She blew out another breath and tried to gather her emotions. This was the subject she was almost certain she’d grow teary eyed discussing. “I love my husband to death. My children are everything. Christopher’s family is like my own, but— I haven’t seen my family, like my mom, grandma, brothers, etc in almost a year.” She paused, dwelling on that. Almost an entire year since she’d been able to physically hug and interact with the people who made her who she was. “And I’ve always made it clear how much I fucking love my family. I live in Australia. I can’t do a drive by with grandma so I and my kids can at least see her on the doorstep.” She quieted again, eyes darting off as she quietly cursed. “I’m trying really hard not to cry right now.”
Please don’t cry, bestie.
This is the side of quarantine that people don’t talk about enough.
Has this woman never heard of FaceTime????
I feel her pain. I live in Europe, and my family is in the states. This quarantine has been brutal.
My grandma died from COVID, and I couldn’t even go to the funeral. Summer is bringing up a good point.
“Damn,” Summer chuckled bitterly and wiped at the tears that fell. “I’m okay, I promise. I just bring this up because quarantine has also been very hard for me in that aspect. At certain points, I’ve been down, I’ve been in my head a lot, and I just was not, for the most part, in a space where I felt like I had to keep up my fitness regimen. And that’s okay. I put my mental wellbeing ahead of making sure my body is socially acceptable. Sue me.”
I really appreciate her honesty.
Summer never goes beyond surface level in interviews, so seeing her this vulnerable is really surprising.
Are we supposed to feel bad for her? She’s rich. She can afford whatever help she needed.
These comments are not passing the vibe check.
Ya’ll are all mental health advocates, but when a black woman is opening up about her struggle, it’s discarded?
“And let me make this clear too, I have an amazing husband who is so patient and so kind. He’s one of the best people I can go to when my anxiety hits, so I don’t want this to come across as me complaining that I’ve been alone. I have him and our children. I just miss the rest of my family. That’s all.” She dried her eyes and started to read the comments, unsurprised by the mixed reaction. She expected as such and was unaffected. At least until she saw one comment.
“Evans!” Summer wasn’t expecting to see his name pop up. It’d been such a task convincing him to join IG, let alone teaching him how to operate it. “Let’s go live.”
Not my husband and wife in my head about to go live!!!!
Imagine being able to call Chris Evans your best friend
I still say they smashed idc
It’s Christopher Jamal Evans hopping on this live for me.
^^^ I’m so sick of y’all with that shit.
“Let me try to add him,” Summer spoke to herself, scrolling through the comments to find his so she could request him. “Alright, I requested him. Let’s see if he answers.”
She wondered if she should have sent him a text asking if he was available when he appeared on her screen, effectively splitting it with her on the top and him on the bottom.
Summer smiled and greeted, “Hi, best friend.”
He chuckled. “How you doing, Summer?”
“Clearly not as good as the people watching,” she chimed. Summer saw nothing but heart eyes and hearts in the comments. “These people really love you. You truly are a manipulative bastard. He’s an asshole, guys.”
“Don’t be jealous, Summer. It’s so unbecoming of you.”
“You can go to hell.”
“Language,” he playfully reprimanded. “Where are the kids?”
“At preschool. Things are finally starting to open back up over here. Thank God.” She clasped her hands together. “Y’all, please wear masks. Don’t be Karen’s.”
Chris laughed, grabbing his chest. “We’re getting there, Summer.”
“The lies you tell,” she countered. “Don’t A Starting Point, me. Ya’ll are far from getting there, and I’m tired of it. I wanna see my family.”
He sighed. “I know, but how are you feeling today?”
“I got rid of the kids, so that’s definitely a weight lifted,” she answered honestly, laughing when she saw judgmental comments in the chat. “Listen, if you’re a parent, you know where I’m coming from. You love your kids, but my god, sometimes you just need some space.”
“As soon as this all blows over, I told you to send em’ by me for a couple of weeks.”
“Best friend, I already purchased their tickets.” He laughed. “As soon as I get the green light, they are all yours. Feel free to keep them.”
“You guys see how she is?” He pointed to Summer, leaning and squinting to read what was being said. “I do love kids, especially the twins, they’re amazing.”
“He is really really great with them, guys,” Summer added. “One thing about Evans, he’s patient as hell and really, just a big kid. Why do you think him and Christopher get along so well? 40 going on 4.”
“I resent that.”
“Is it a lie though?”
He hesitated. “No.” They both laughed.
I’m loving the dynamic between these two so much.
Is it just me or are they flirting with each other…..
Ain’t nothing inappropriate about this conversation. Ya’ll are reaching…
Ya’ll remember that blind item that came out years ago alleging Chris (Evans) was the biological father of the twins? Hmm…..
^^^^^This kind of bullshit is the reason we’re in a global pandemic.
As always, Summer and Evans ignored any foolery that was being dropped in the comments when she caught a comment that didn’t contain some ridiculous rumor.
“Yes, it is true that Evans and Christopher weren’t allowed to do press together anymore. Ya’ll, they literally could not stay serious for more than a minute. I felt so bad for the poor interviewers.”
“Hey, we were not that bad,” Evans protested, his Boston accent more prominent.
She gasped. “You guys were terrible, Evans, and you know it. I was so mad when they put me with ya’ll those few times. I could barely hear the interviewers over your laughing and stupid commentary that literally no one asked for.”
“We did not.”
“There’s deadass video proof, Evans.”
She opened her mouth but caught herself. “I was about to say something.”
He laughed and asked, “Do you remember how we all got drunk before the Infinity War premiere?”
“No, ya’ll got drunk. I was big and pregnant, remember?”
“No,” he dismissed. “You were drinking with us.”
“Evans, how was I drinking when I was pregnant?” She challenged and reminded. “I got drunk with ya’ll for the Endgame premiere, not Infinity War.”
“That’s right,” he remembered and chuckled. “You think we’ll get in trouble for saying this?”
She shrugged with one shoulder. “You’re dead, Christopher never gets in trouble for anything, and I do what I want. I think we’re good.”
Kevin Feige watching this live right now like 🥴🥴🥴🥴
I never realized how arrogant she is……
LMAO. Not the whole cast showing up drunk to the biggest premiere of their lives.
Chris Evans is too damn fine to be approaching 40 and still single.
Their friendship is so goals omg
Summer’s jaw dropped as she caught the last comment, swiping up to click the name and make sure that she was reading correctly. “Christopher, what the hell are you doing on my live?”
Evans brows furrowed. “Hemmy is here? Shouldn’t he be working?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Summer supplied. “And how long have you been watching?”
@ChrisHemsworth: Long enough.
She smiled nervously and looked off to the side. “I feel weird now. I don’t like when he watches my lives.”
“Aren’t you guys married?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up?”
Evans lifted his hands in a defensive manner. “Touchy subject, I see.” They shared another laugh as he cleared his throat. “Why don’t you add him now? I’m supposed to be helping Scott cook.”
“My favorite Evans,” she gushed and furrowed her brows. “You, cooking? Since when?”
“Get out of here.” He waved her off and reminded. “I’m not the one who constantly causes near fires when in the kitchen.”
“So, you really just putting all my business out there like that?”
“Summer, it’s not secret to anyone that you can’t cook for shit.”
“Wow, it really be your own best friends.”
He chuckled. “Love you, kid.”
“Love you too, punk,” she blew a kiss. “I’ll text ya’ later.”
“Alright.” He smiled for the camera. “Thanks for having me everyone.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said jokingly. Evans and Summer said goodbye one last time before he left the live. She blew out a breath and ran her hand through her hair. “Baby, comment something so I can add you. It’s too many comments to wade through.”
Summer adjusted her phone and checked the time on the clock on the wall. It’d been a while since the kids were away at school, and she didn’t want to get so caught up that she was late picking them up.
@ChrisHemsworth: I can’t. I’m too drunk.
Summer released a mixture of a laugh and a snort reading his comment. “You are so damn petty.” She clicked his name and adjusted her outfit while waiting for him to answer. She almost cursed when it seemed like he wasn’t going to join, only for her to smile when his face appeared on her screen.
“Hi,” she greeted in a soft voice with a small smile.
“Did you just—I swear to god, it’s always something with you.” Summer rubbed her temples and shook her head. Christopher smiled in response. “Why aren’t you working?”
“If you’re working, how are you talking to me?” She asked, sassily.
“Umm, a little thing called multitasking, ever heard of it?”
“Wow. You are an asshole.”
“Christopher, you are literally a child.”
“Does a child have muscles like this?” He flexed, and Summer stilled. Christopher stayed in ridiculous shape, but this was another level. He’d never been this massive, and she wasn’t too proud to admit that. Just not aloud.
She faked a yawn. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”
They really just be roasting each other all the time, and I’m here for it.
Summer must be legally blind because this man is stupid fine tf
It’s gotta be steroids. That’s not natural.
^^^^^He’s the god of thunder.
Summer rolled her eyes at the typical nature of the comments. These were the reasons she limited her time on social media and especially stayed away from reading the comments. Her attention was redirected to the top of her phone. It was a text from Christopher asking her to call him.
“But we’re—oh, I get it.” She realized he wanted to talk to her, not her and her tens of millions of followers. “Alright, guys, I’m gonna get off here so I can talk to my husband, alone.”
“She just doesn’t want to share me with you all, that’s all.”
“Don’t even start, Christopher,” she lectured while he laughed and got serious, for a minute tops.
“Hope you all are taking care and staying safe,” he spoke honestly. “And we’ll talk to you soon.”
Summer waved and smile. “Bye, guys. Remember to be kind.” Summer offered a final smile before ending the live. Closing up the app, she moved to open FaceTime and called up Christopher. He answered almost immediately. “You know I hate when you watch my Lives. Now, how much did you see?”
“Enough to know you’re coming to see me tonight.”
She laughed aloud. “Funny.”
“I’m serious, Summer.” Focusing on him, she realized that there was no humor in his voice nor his expression. Summer also noticed that he didn’t have the Thor wig on yet, which was probably why he was able to go live with her. He was waiting to get into hair and makeup. “Leave the kids with Liam. It’s not like he’s doing anything.”
“What? Is he not a professional unemployed bastard.”
Summer’s smile remained as she shook her head. “You are so mean.”
“I’ll handle the flight arrangements. You, my beautiful wife, just make sure you get on the jet so I can handle you.”
“Christopher, you’re working. People with everyday jobs don’t just up and show up to their spouses workplace because they miss them or need a break from the kids. That’s how folks get fired.”
Christopher started to move around, walking somewhere, she realized. “What are you doing?”
Summer’s eyes widened slightly. “Christoper!”
“Sup, man?” Taika asked casually, as Summer laughed again. Taika Waititi was such a character.
“You mind if Summer comes up for a few days?”
“Sure, man,” he replied almost right away. “Bring the kids and chickens too.”
“I am not bringing those damn chickens,” she immediately protested.
Christopher made a sound. “Ha, so you are coming!”
“I didn’t say that.”
Taika joined Christopher so that he was in camera. “Hey, Summer, why don’t you come on join? You can have a cameo. Chickens, too.”
She rubbed her temples. Taika’s and Chris’s friendship would never not make sense to her. They were cut from the same cloth. “One, hey. Two, I was already in Ragnarok. I’m good on the cameos. Three, what is with ya’ll and those creepy looking chickens?”
“Whoa, creepy? What did the chickens ever do?”
“Exist,” Summer answered dryly. She still hadn’t forgiven Evans and Christopher for convincing her to let the kids keep those damn things. Her home was becoming more and more of a farm with each animal that joined the household.
“Tough crowd, that one, ehh?”
“Always,” Christopher agreed.
“I can hear you both,” she reminded and groaned loudly. Summer would love to spend a few days away from the kids. Chris would be working, yes, but she’d at least get some time for herself. Even better, alone adult time with her husband. That had also been a bit tricky during quarantine because of her rambunctious twins. Still, she disliked using her status as a celebrity to gain things, and this would definitely be a case of using status for pull. “I don’t know….”
Deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that Chris had walked away and returned to wherever he was prior to finding Taika, most likely his trailer.
“What if you only stayed a night?” Chris tried to bargain. “The flight is only an hour and a half. That will give you more than enough time to come here, let me fix you dinner, run you a nice bath, maybe get in the good ole’ horizontal tango—”
“You know I hate when you call it that,” she reminded quietly, admitting. “That does sound nice, though.”
“Or, I can come to you—“
“Absolutely not. Christopher, you’re already doing so much back and forth as it is.” One of the good things to come out of quarantine, to Summer at least, was that it forced many people to take a much needed break. Her husband was one of those people. Christopher had been working nonstop since she met him. Project after project, film after film, many of them Marvel films, which put a whole other layer of difficulty what with the strenuous physical requirements. Even now as he shot Thor 4, he was in the best shape he’d ever been, muscles nearly tearing the cotton of his clothes. He looked amazing, but it was what they couldn’t see that she was starting to grow a little concerned over. Christopher wasn’t as young as he once was. He had to slow down, eventually.
Summer realized this would be a perfect chance to have a conversation about just that with him, which all but led her to her final decision.
“Alright,” she conceded, finger up as she made her demands. “Three days, and I stay at the house while you shoot. We may be returning to normal, but we’re still in a pandemic. I won’t go around anyone except you.”
“So I get you all to myself? Hardly consider that a stipulation.”
“After the horizontal tango—“
“I swear to God, if you don’t stop calling it that—“
“What was that, sweetheart? I wasn’t listening.” She saw that he had paused the screen, causing Summer to remember that she hadn’t even consulted with the babysitter. “Making flight arrangements for you.”
“Shit, let me text Liam and make sure he’s available.”
“He gets reception in the box?”
“Christopher! For the last time, your brother is not living in a box.”
“Do you know that for certain?”
“Goodbye, Christopher,” she prepared to end the call before smiling softly. “I love you, Christopher, and thank you.”
He winked. “I’ll always do anything for you, Summer. Anything.” A beat. “Don’t forget to leave the clothes. You won’t need them.”
Borne of Bullets and Bloodshed - Chapter Twenty Two.
Word count - 2,073
Warnings - None
Taglist - @katie007123 @clarinette07 @lilacmeadows @mostly-marvel-musings @skyfullofsong123 @captain-asguard @innerpaperexpertcloud @longlostinanotherworld @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @dumb-ass-writer (Tag list is open! Please DM to be added!)
Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One
The sudden coolness offered by a large covering of cloud moving in front of the sun, coupled with a gentle breeze fluttering through the stifling heat made Tyler feel a little less hot and tightly would in that moment, taking a deep breath he slowly released from his nose, still watching the buffalo.
While sitting there, he was aware of a couple of pickups entering the compound behind him, the only thing that stirred the peaceful silence around him until a few minutes later, someone’s footfalls approaching from behind.
“You look like a man with the weight of the world upon his shoulders,” Oba commented, hoisting himself to sit next to him, pulling his cigarettes out and offering him one. “I’ve never seen you smoke, but I guess maybe you might need one.” He guessed correctly.
“Something like that, mate.”
“We are men both chased by demons rather than driven by them.” Oba’s words were always quite profound, he’d noticed.
“What demons chase you, then?” He asked, curious.
“How long do you have to hear me speak of them?”
“Sounds ominous,” he snorted, laughing a little as he lit his cigarette, handing the lighter back to Oba. The sudden rush of nicotine delivered felt good, he felt himself calming down.
How things were different from the last time he’d smoked, lying on the floor of an abandoned apartment, half dressed, in a haze from the kind of orgasm that had knocked him sideways. The one that had a fifty percent chance of being the moment his baby was conceived. His life, it was crazy.
“I have as long as you need.” Although he sensed Oba to be different to the men he associated himself with, Tyler was still acting cautiously, with a guard up, everything he said calculated. He didn’t trust that perhaps Oba wasn’t attempting to feed information back to his boss. What he was about to learn would turn that notion on its head, though.
“Today would have been my wife’s twenty-seventh birthday, had she lived past twenty-three,” he began, drawing hard on his cigarette, following Tyler’s line of vision out to the buffalo as he held the smoke deep in his lungs. “Her name was Zauna, which is darkly ironic since the meaning of her name is to be alive, and now she is gone. She died while giving birth to our first son, who also did not survive.”
“Fuck, mate. That’s... fucking hell. I’m sorry, man.” Reaching out, he squeezed his shoulder, Oba nodding and patting his arm, his eyes a little glassy.
“I appreciate that, Tyler. I did everything I could, even paid for private doctors to try and keep my son alive, but he followed his mother two weeks later. He was just too small to survive. No wife, no son and more debt than I knew how to get myself out of.” He sighed, rubbing his brow, amazed he’d revealed so much to the man he barely knew. He sensed it in him, though, that he was different. He wasn’t stone cold, the white man with the piercing eyes that reflected the kind of ghosts he knew his own held.
At hearing his story, Tyler suddenly felt very inferior to Oba, a man who had done everything for his child when comparatively, he’d done little. Of course, he’d been there to hold his hand through Rowan’s first treatments, when the doctors still held hope they’d cure his lymphoma, but as soon as he’d been diagnosed as terminal, he’d ran.
“I’ve heard all about Nigerian debt collectors. Those are the fellas I’ve seen around with hyenas on chains, aren’t they?” Tyler commented, Oba nodding.
“And Ayo. He has no hyenas though, just enough weight to crush those who owe him.” It took him a brief moment to realise it, that Oba was one who owed him. “I have been here for four years, since my beloved died, working off a debt I doubt will ever be paid. I know you do not trust him, my friend. You are right not to. He is not what he seems.”
Although his senses told him to trust the man sat beside him, he still couldn’t discount that it might be a ruse in order to gain his trust. He’d need concrete evidence of Oba’s words prior to fully trusting him. “I want to get going soon. Honestly, do you think he’ll make it hard?” He asked, Oba nodding.
“He’ll try and keep you here, he’s keeping a close eye on you while he tries to gather information on you and Liliya. He doesn’t believe you are here because of being wanted by a cartel. Personally, it doesn’t matter to me either way, but if I were you, I’d leave sooner rather than later. Don’t leave on foot in the night, though. There are lions out there in the less built-up areas once you leave Lagos,” he warned, Tyler nodding.
There it was. If Oba truly had any loyalty to his boss, he wouldn’t have confided that Ayo was digging deeper into them at present.
“Why don’t you flee, get away from him, find a life that he doesn’t own?” He asked, taking a final drag on his cigarette before dropping it to the floor, grinding it out beneath his boot.
“He’d find me and bring me back. Notice too, the way he is always around me. I never leave the compound without him.” Just then, as if to enforce his statement...
“Oba! I need you,” Ayo called from a distance, beckoning him back from where he’d come.
“Heed my warning, Tyler.” Getting down, he went back to his boss, or rather his captor, Tyler shaking his head, feeling awful for Oba. It then hit him in waves, with his mind no longer distracted by the story of another, why he’d come out there in the first place.
“Fuck.” Getting down from his perch, he walked back inside, finding Liliya still asleep. To occupy is mind, he stripped his t shirt off, beginning to do press ups and sit ups until his chest heaved and his skin glistened with sweat,
“Now if that isn’t an absolutely glorious sight to wake up to, I don’t know what is,” she told him, turning onto her front, stretching and yawning. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, ish,” he admitted.
“I am ish too, so we match.” Moving to the end of the bed, she puckered her lips at him, Tyler moving over to grant the kisses she sought.
“I found out something, though,” he revealed, before quietly whispering what Oba had told him, about Ayo looking into them. He didn’t trust that the walls might’ve had ears.
“We should leave soon, I feel. You were right. We need to get out of here.” As they found, also as Oba had warned, it was easier said than done. However, it had nothing to do with Ayo and everything to do with the weather.
“Here, for the eventual flooding. It won’t stop now, not for a few days. The roads are already beginning to back up,” Oba told them the next evening, laying sandbags outside their room door, Tyler helping him arrange them properly to prevent the ingress of water. “One thing that is good which always comes with the storms, since we are a little more out in the open here, the lightning is incredible. You can see it bounce off the ground.”
“Is it drivable, say in a 4x4?” he asked, having no idea how bad the flooding got out there.
“I should think so, but you won’t survive stealing from Ayo, unless you leave in the dead of the night and then, it’s dangerous, driving through flooded roads in heavy rain. I will help you all I can, though. As much as I am able. Is she okay?”
Looking over Tyler’s shoulder with concern, he saw Liliya, bundled in a blanket shaking like a leaf. Not drinking for over twenty-four hours was now starting to have the inevitable ugly effect; alcohol withdrawal.
“She’s just a bit sick right now. She’ll be fine.” He assured him, just as she shouted ‘move!’ hurtling off the bed, heaving. Flying up the stairs, she ran for the bathroom, just about managing to skid to a halt and vomit into the toilet. The sickness had started about an hour ago, the hot and cold sweats and tremoring since that morning.
She hadn’t been without even at least a small amount of alcohol in her system for a long time, and her body was letting its displeasure known at being forced to function without it. Sitting back on the floor, catching her breath, she felt thankful that at least her morning sickness period had cleared up. She had a feeling she’d be seeing the inside of a toilet bowl enough as she dried out.
“Liliya, here. Save you having to run up here. Let me help you,” came the kindly voice of Oba from the door she hadn’t had time to shut, holding a large bucket as he approached and held out his hands. She took them, Oba hauling her up, placing a hand on her arm. “How far along are you? My late wife, she used to get the sickness too, at all times of the day when she was pregnant. She used to say it was mourning sickness, as in her body mourning her ability to keep food down.”
“Late wife?” she asked, suddenly holding up her hand and then turning to the toilet again, bringing up more, Oba crouching to hold her hair back. “Thank you for being kind, too. Tyler is right, you’re not like them.”
He smiled, glad that these new people whom he found himself taking a genuine like to believed he was sincere. “You are welcome. And yes, late wife. She passed away in childbirth four years ago. I’m surprised you don’t know; I spoke of it to Tyler yesterday morning.”
“He is not a parrot, he doesn’t repeat everything he hears,” she gasped, retching again. “I’m sorry, too. That you lost her.”
“Thank you.” Once she felt like she wasn’t about to vomit again, she sat up, looking to the doorway and smiling to see Tyler there, unscrewing a cap from a bottle of water and handing it to her.
“Thanks, Oba,” he extended with a nod.
“I was just telling her that I recognise this from Zauna. I see now why you are extra eager to move, get away from here, if there is a child on the way. This is no place for you.” He nodded in reply, not wanting to disrespect Liliya’s privacy by revealing that the sickness was because she was beginning to withdraw from booze.
Neither of them revealed that the child he referred to might not be on the way either, that they were still deciding the fate of the very unexpected pregnancy. He left them to it, heading out on business with Ayo, the heavy rain not stopping the need to go out and collect protection money from local businesses.
“Why would he turn on his boss, Oba?” she asked, taking off her vest top and shorts, suddenly feeling much too hot once they were back in their room.
“Because he owes him a debt he doubts will ever be paid. I heard him tell you that he’d lost his wife, well, his son died too, but before that Oba borrowed money from Ayo for his care. As soon as the rain has stopped, we’re gone. Where to, I don’t know. I suppose we’ll know that when we decide whether we’re going to be parents or not.”
Being rained in had one advantage, it seemed. Plenty of time to do nothing but try and somehow decide the fate of what was currently growing within Liliya’s womb as she suffered from ceasing her drinking. As Tyler would discover, it wouldn’t be easy. She would be an utter nightmare to cope with, but at least he’d have a little help.
“Here, a box of electrolyte powder for dehydration. Mix the sachets in water. I bought ginger biscuits too, because they help with the nausea.” Oba handed over the carrier bag after returning from his debt collecting endeavours, Tyler thanking him. At least one thing was certain. The burly man who had revealed himself to be an ally within the shark pool they currently resided truly was just that.
Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Hela (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel)
Additional Tags: Hurt Loki (Marvel), Loki Needs a Hug (Marvel), Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), Thor is a Good Bro (Marvel), Protective Thor (Marvel), Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, Body Horror, Horror, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Bittersweet, Hopeful Ending, Loki Has Issues (Marvel), Dysfunctional Family
Hela rose from the death, she had someone with her this time.
Summary: You get invited to be your friends date to a lavish Masquerade.
Warnings: Non-con and Rape; Smut; Oral (fr); fear kink; heights; public sex.
This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!
Small lanterns light the way through the lines of rose bushes, their soft sweet sent fills your nostrils and brings a smile to your face. If only you could see this place during the day. You passed under a long stretch of archways dripping in flowers and vines, all trimmed to perfection. You hope whoever tends to this garden is paid well because this place is a work of art.
You smile when you turn a corner and see what you had been looking for. There was a small circular courtyard with a few curved benches along the edges and two well lit statues on either side of the opening leading into the hedge maze. Your feet crunch as you walk through the gravel courtyard.
The statue on the left was a large bear standing on its hind legs, giant claws ready to strike. The statue on the right was of two huge snakes wrapped around each other in with one devouring the other. Odd, but lovely craftsmanship.
With a deep breath you step into the maze. You wander around, trying to keep track of which paths you have already taken. The tops of the hedges stand high above you, at least seven feet tall. The aisles are narrow, barely wide enough for two people to stand shoulder to shoulder. After meeting several dead ends the frustration, isolation, and claustrophobia begins to ware on you. You are well and truly lost for the second time this evening and you wonder why you hadn’t just joined the rest of the party.
“Shit,” you groan as you come around a corner to yet another dead end.
You turn to go back grumbling to yourself about the point of these things when you hear a noise on the other side of the hedge.
“Hello?” You call.
“Is someone there? Can you help me?” You shout, the panic you had been trying to suppress bleeding into your voice.
You quickly try to run back and peek around the corner where you thought the noise may have come from but you are met with more vegetation.
“Oh god, now I’m going crazy” you bemoan.
You continue on down a new path, this one is long and straight, definitely haven’t been this way. Your fingers brush along the soft leaves as you walk but you freeze when you hear the snap of a twig behind you. You look over your shoulder and see a tall, suited, masked figure at the end of the lane.
“Loki?” You ask hopefully, squinting through the darkness.
You step toward the man and take in more details while he stands there, watching you. Although he is a similar height, the moonlight gives away his lighter hair and his broad, muscular physique. His shoulders take up nearly the entire width of the path, giving him an intimidating quality.
“Hi, sorry. I came in here looking for Loki, I kind of got lost… do you know the way out of here?” You ask taking a hesitant step closer.
He stood there, still as a statue. And the longer he stays silent the more your hope dissolves into anxiety. The realization hitting you slowly that you are alone and lost in this maze with a very large stranger. You stop moving towards him and your hands clutch nervously at your dress. He tilts his head to the side and you hear him chuckle lowly.
“How unlike my brother to let a poor maiden wander the maze all alone” his voice is deep like Loki’s, but not nearly as smooth.
“You’re Loki’s brother?” You clarify, the information relaxing you slightly.
“Mm. I have not seen him all night, and now I know why” he chuckles darkly.
You shuffle uncomfortably at his suggestion, Loki had been kind, a bit peculiar to be sure, but charming.
“Can you get me out of here? I’m afraid I’m not as clever as I thought,” you try to change the subject.
“This way m’lady,” he gestured to the path behind him.
“Thank you,” you say gratefully walking toward him.
You near him but he doesn’t budge, forcing you to sidle between him and the corner of the hedge. You stiffen as your ass brushes against him and you hurry to regain some comfortable distance as you mumble an embarrassed apology.
It unnerves you that you can’t see his face and you clear your throat before asking which way next. He continues to lead you with short directions or gestures when you look to him but otherwise he stays mostly monosyllabic. Answering your polite attempts at conversation as simply as possible. You can’t help but wish Loki were here.
Having been in both men’s presence you conclude that although Loki and his brother are both considerably large men, imposing in their own way, Loki’s felt more palatable, even desirable when mixed with his charm and confidence. But this man, Thor, he introduced himself as, seems the exact opposite. His confidence comes off arrogant and only helps to sharpen his daunting presence. If only he showed you his face, it might make him less frightening. Instead, you remain lost with the predatory visage of a lion staring back at you.
Finally you turn to see an archway that leads to an open space and you feel the tension in your body lesson slightly.
“Oh thank god,” you breath lowly.
Thor chuckles behind you, having gotten steadily closer to you in the past few minutes, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
“Thank you for your help,” you smile at him as you try to hold back from sprinting away from him.
He says nothing and watches as you turn back and head for the exit, following behind you leisurely. You step through the arch and fight the bile that bubbles in your stomach as you look upon a round stone tower about three stories high, an iron stair case spiraling around the exterior leading to the roof. He had brought you to the center of the maze.
You try to quiet the rising panic as you turn to face him, ready to act as though this is just some simple mistake.
“I thought you were taking me to the exit?” You keep your voice steady.
“Did I? I don’t remember saying that,” he shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest, blocking the entrance behind him.
“I thought you’d like to see what lies at the end, only a lucky few have made it this far” his deep voice amplifying the harrowing effect of the mask.
“I – It is lovely, but I really need to be getting back to my friend,” you state shakily.
“You mean you wish to find my brother?” He teases.
“I – no. I –“ you stutter.
“You wear his favor,” he says tapping his own mask, “he did give that mask to you, did he not?” He questions as he takes a step toward you.
“Yes, but I – “ you try to argue.
“Yes,” he confirms, “it is a rare thing indeed to make such a notable impression on my brother. You must be something special,” he reasons with another long step closer.
You shake your head, you want to deny it. There is nothing special about you, besides if Loki was so fond of you why did he disappear? You find yourself stepping away as Thor moves closer, his hands clasped behind him, though it does little to make him less menacing.
“I do wonder, my lady, what you had been hoping would happen when you entered this place, all alone, in pursuit of my brother,” he questions darkly, his voice deep but still dripping with cruel delight.
“I’m going to go,” you quaver and grip your dress so you can proceed past him and back into the maze.
He side steps to block your way with a low chuckle.
“Now now, you haven’t even seen the best part,” he objects.
“I’ve seen enough, I’d like to go now,” you say pointedly, looking up to his mask, close enough now that you can see the blue of his eyes.
He looms over you. You listen to his heavy breaths under the mask and try your best not to cower away. He stares at you for a moment longer, both of you locked in some sort of competition to see who would break first. Suddenly he laughs, lighter and more genuine than you’d heard so far.
“Alright, alright. How about a deal? You accompany me to the top of the tower and take in the marvelous view and then I will show you the way out of the maze” he offers, extending his hand for you to take.
“Or I leave now and make it out myself” you retort.
“Be my guest,” he laughs stepping aside, presenting the entrance to you. “But I expect you would be out quicker if you join me, than if you wander idly on your own again.”
You think it over and close your eyes with a huff. Why do rich men have to be so insufferable. You decide to concede to his request but come up with one of your own.
“Fine, but can you take off the mask? Its making me uncomfortable” you cross your arms and try not to sound meek.
He brings his hand up without a word and takes off the lion mask. He tosses it without a care and you look at his face for the first time. He is as handsome as his brother, but in a more rugged way. His blond beard fails to hide the chiseled jawline and full pink lips that twist into a devilish smirk.
“Better?” He asks, his blue eyes catch the white moonlight and you swear that they almost glow.
“Thank you,” you nod stiffly and turn to head for the tower.
He follows closely behind you, even offering to carry you up the stairs.
“Wouldn’t want you to slip in those shoes,” he banters, his hand grazing yours as you reach for the iron railing.
“I’m fine,” you return shortly, picking up your pace to get away from him.
You feel his eyes burn into your backside as he ushers you ahead of him. You have the skirt of your dress bunched up in one hand, exposing quite a bit of your leg. You try to make sure not to accidentally hike it too far up as you teeter in your heels on the uneven steps.
You finally reach the top, your breathing is slightly elevated and your ankles are aching. There is a large telescope fixed in the center of the roof and the floor is littered with textured cushions and blankets. You feel your stomach flip, had you been with the other Odinson brother you may have mistaken it for excitement.
But as you watch Thor step toward you, your heart thumps against your chest and the urge to fight flairs within you. He stops in front of you, his cocky expression putting you on edge, and turns to the telescope. He looks into the eye piece and adjusts some of the knobs before pulling away and looking back to you.
“Did you know that we are celebrating under a Strawberry Moon?” He asks lowly.
“What?” You breathe, the intimacy of the situation makes you fidget nervously.
“June’s full moon is called a Strawberry moon, marking the time of year when the sweetest berries would ripen,” he explains huskily, his lip twitching as he quiets.
After a brief peek at the full moon overhead you look back at him, eyeing him nervously.
“It’s beautiful” you agree, “can we head back now?”
“I have always loved Strawberries,” his voice rumbles as his eyes roam your body hungrily.
The way he is looking at you makes your chest clench and your body tense and you grab at your skirt, taking a hesitant step back.
“I’ll bet you are just as sweet,” Thor growls and lets his tongue poke out, wetting his lower lip before biting it.
“Please, just take me back now” you shudder as you cower under the sheer size of him looming over you.
He chuckles darkly, flashing you his toothy grin as he shakes his head at you. Your eyes dart around at the small rooftop, your only way out is down the stairs but he’d definitely catch you before you could get too far.
“Come on, lil’ Strawberry,” he coos. “Give me a taste,” he reaches out and grabs your upper arm dragging you closer to him.
You drop your skirt and try to hit his chest, ducking away from his attempts at kissing you. He grabs both of your upper arms and pulls you against him easily. Even with your hands and feet free his grip is overpowering and locks you in place. You turn your head away and his lips meet your cheek, making him growl into your skin in frustration.
He shakes you and tries again, forcing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. You grunt in disgust and bring your hands up to claw at his abdomen. He pokes his tongue out and tries to force it between your lips and you bite his lower lip in retaliation.
He pulls back with another growl and licks at the injured lip. He laughs at your angry expression before humming in apparent delight.
“Ok then, let’s play rough,” he threatens as he spins you away from him and you fly into the railing.
Borne of Bullets and Bloodshed - Chapter Twenty One.
So guys, here’s the chapter I know a few of you are excited to read! Enjoy :)
Word count - 2,530
Warnings - None
Taglist - @katie007123 @clarinette07 @lilacmeadows @mostly-marvel-musings @skyfullofsong123 @captain-asguard @innerpaperexpertcloud @longlostinanotherworld @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @dumb-ass-writer (Tag list is open! Please DM to be added!)
Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty
Looking at the screen, there it was, her baby. Hers and Tyler’s baby, likely conceived on the floor of the ghetto in Colombia or in the train carriage that had taken them to Venezuela, if she’d done her working out correctly. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I... this is very unexpected!” she replied, the doctor pulling her from her trance like state of shock. “Is it okay? Is it healthy?”
“The heartbeat is good, nice and strong, and the foetus appears to be of good size. I would have to take some blood tests to know more, though. I would advise we do this today as well as removing your IUD too.”
The IUD removal she agreed on, but since she had no idea how long she would be staying in Nigeria, politely refused the tests on account of the fact she might not still be around by the time they came back.
She thanked him and left, reassuring a waiting Orisa that all was fine and she was just suffering some bloat. Of course, there was only one person she needed to reveal her news to, yet she had no idea how on earth to tell her boyfriend of three months that she was carrying his child.
They had fallen head over heels in love with one another, that much was true, but still, it was such a new relationship. Bringing a baby into it would be tough, especially given their current circumstances. Being on the run and pregnant? She couldn’t think of anything worse.
As soon as they got back, she looked at her phone and saw that the strict laws in Nigeria meant that she couldn’t even get a termination, not unless her own life was in danger. Shaking herself, she then realised that she shouldn’t be looking into anything more until she’d spoken to Tyler. The thought alone made her feel sick.
“I guess that was why I was so seasick. I was baby sick, too.” She muttered, dragging her feet back to their room, swallowing hard. It was just the worst thing to happen, the worst possible timing, although deep down, something within her sparkled. She had never loved anyone like she had Tyler and no matter how soon it had occurred, carrying his child made her feel the tiniest little bloom of happiness, beneath all the worry.
So that she wasn’t completely lying, she’d stopped at a market stall with Orisa on the way back, picking up some plain t shirts and a few new pairs of simple, black cotton undies, putting them down in her bag once she’d entered the room, Tyler not there. He must’ve been in the bathroom above, which was no problem. She could do with more time.
Pacing the room, she cracked her knuckles, taking deep breaths and fanning her face. It was only 9am and already, the heat was ascending to stifling proportions. “How on earth do I do this? How the hell do I tell him?”
“Tell me what?” At that moment, she nearly threw up. Turning to face him, she continued her knuckle clicking, Tyler approaching her, frowning a little. “Did you find something out about Ayo, while you were out with his wife?”
“No. I found something out about me. Sit down. Fuck.” Moving to the bed, she sat next to him, covering her face with her hands, emerging to see him looking on at her with concern. “Tyler I... fuck! I can’t even get the fucking words out!”
“Take your time,” he reassured her, resting a hand to her knee, feeling a little panicked inside at what she was about to tell him.
“Five years ago, I started having abdominal pain and swelling, which was diagnosed as ovarian cysts that I had to have surgically removed. The doctor told me they could come back and if they did, he couldn’t rule out malignancy. I’ve noticed over the last few weeks that I’ve started having the same symptoms again, so this morning, I went to see a doctor when Orisa went for her check-up.”
Taking a deep breath, she continued, revealing the most important part. “He gave me a scan, which luckily revealed my ovaries are fine. However, he did find something else. My IUD failed and because of that, I’m pregnant.”
He blinked heavily, the shock of her words smacking him square in the chest. Pregnant? He knew he should say something, that he had to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come for that moment. “Yes, your face right now. That is how I felt. Dumbfounded.”
“I know I have to say something, I do, but fuck, I don’t have the words. I don’t, I’m just... fuck.” Turning to her side, she held his arm, kissing his shoulder while her fingers gently squeezed his massive bicep, resting her forehead against his neck.
“What do we do, Tyler?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I need a minute.” Pulling away from her, he exited the room, needing the open air, feeling light headed. He leaned forward, resting his hands above his knees, his head spinning, feeling like he was about to throw up.
She was pregnant.
Straightening up again, he willed himself to go back to their room, but it was as if his feet were cemented to the ground, holding him fast. Right there, he chastised himself to hell for being so reckless as to have sex with her without protection in the first place.
Of course, back then he was decidedly less caring about his own welfare, unprotected sex with a stranger was perhaps one of the lesser dicey pursuits he’d gotten himself into. Still, it was biting him in the ass, fathering a child he didn’t even know if he wanted or not. He tried to move again, legs feeling like heavy jelly, sighing and rubbing his face with a groan.
“Stop running away from your problems, fucking coward.” He muttered to himself, feeling his heart beating like a jackhammer. Still, he couldn’t move. Leaning back against the wall, he willed himself to get a handle on his reaction, pushing up to standing straight and running upstairs firstly to splash his face with water, heading back down then to Liliya.
“Panicked. I expected you to, really. What I told you is pretty panic inducing.” Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair, smiling thinly at him. “I’m sorry.”
“Shut up, it isn’t your fault. You thought you were covered, but apparently your IUD had other ideas. How far along are you?” he asked, reaching for her hand.
“So, it happened right at the start, then. Fuck. You couldn’t make that up, you really couldn’t. Fucking typical of my life, for something this insane to happen. I get sent to kill someone, end up fucking her, got her pregnant on either the first or second time. Jesus Christ.” He laughed softly through his nose, more of an entertained exhale than anything. He didn’t even know why; it was far from humorous. “Sorry, I need to add fell madly in fucking love with her in there as well.”
“This part I know already.” Leaning over, she kissed his cheek, stroking his beard with her thumbs. “What do we do?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. In theory, having a kid with you is fantastic, but that theory is when we’ve been together a little longer and we’re not on the run, drinking too much – and for me not on Oxy either – you know, everything that we have standing against this being anything resembling a good idea. Except, it’s too late, isn’t it? Fourteen weeks, it’s too late. Or is it?”
His words gave voice to everything up in her head, all her worries and wonderings, everything that, as he had stated, stood against them.
“I don’t even think I could, get a termination. It’s not allowed in Nigeria by law unless the pregnancy meant my life was in danger. I can likely wager most surrounding African countries are the same also. Unless we flew somewhere, but then we’d be able to be tracked and we have to stay under the radar.” Resting her head in her hands, she folded, feeling so daunted that much to her own shock, she began to cry. Teary reactions and Liliya did not go hand in hand.
“Come here, come on.” Lifting her onto his lap, he wrapped her in a hug as she cried against his neck.
“Stupid fucking hormones!”
“Well, this explains why you’ve been a little more difficult than usual, starting stupid arguments with me like you were doing when we were crossing over here, and having the sex drive of an eighteen-year-old bloke, too,” he pointed out, laughing a little.
“It’s not funny, do not laugh! Also, I always have the sex drive of an eighteen-year-old boy.”
“If I don’t, I’ll be fuckin’ crying too, baby. Shit. We’re stuck.” He lay back, taking her with him, both of them having no idea how to move forward. They truly were stuck. Taking out her phone, she did a little research, seeing that fourteen weeks was still within the parameters for abortion, although it would be considered late from her sixteenth week.
“Our best bet would be to travel to South Africa, since it’s legal there. Few countries here do the procedure legally, I think Mozambique would be our next other nearest. Both are far, though.” Placing her phone down, she curled into him, his hand stroking her lower back soothing when inside, she felt tumultuous.
“If we weren’t on the run, say by some miracle we were already in London, ozenium delivered to Dr Cazares, Global no longer actively pursuing us, would you feel differently?” It was a very valid question.
“I think I would. I’d still be daunted by it, purely because we’ve only been together for three months. It’s so soon to bring a child into the picture. I cannot deny, though. Deep down, under everything within me that has been thrown into blind panic at this news, there’s a little part of me that’s so happy.”
“Me, too,” he shared, stroking her hair and kissing her head. “Not that me and fatherhood particularly go hand in hand. I was lousy at it last time round, ultimately.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance. Am I really mother material? I think I’m the furthest thing from it,” she snorted.
“We’ve got a lot to think about, don’t we? As for whether you’re mother material, the way you were with Ayo’s kids the first night we arrived shows that you are. You were great with them. Everything else you learn as you go along.”
“How do we still continue to work?”
“Take it in turns. One heads off back to this life, the other stays home with the baby.”
“Where would home be?”
“Pass. That’s a question for later.”
“I need a drink.”
“I can’t have one, though. You know, with the issue of what’s causing me to swell.”
“I thought you were just getting a bit chunky, you know. Also, yes you can. One small drink on top of what you put away isn’t really going to matter now, is it? Did the doctor say it was okay, by the way, in regards to that?”
“I didn’t tell him that I’m an alcoholic, but even still, he couldn’t tell much without a blood test. It’s a good size and the heartbeat is strong, apparently. That’s why I can’t have a drink, either. I heard the heartbeat. I can’t do it, no matter that we aren’t decided. It isn’t right. I feel so guilty, making the poor little thing swim in booze soup.”
Reaching under her chin, he lifted her head, kissing the tip of her nose. “You ask whether you’re mother material. The fact you care enough not to drink when we don’t even know what we’re doing yet proves that you are.”
“It’ll be a miracle if it’s totally healthy.” He couldn’t really refute that, although he remained silent. She didn’t need to hear him confirm that she was likely right. They both lay there silently, stroking one another, with separate maelstroms rolling through their minds over the fact that they, two people so broken down by life, had created a brand new one.
“What do you mean, you thought I was getting chunky?”
“I might have known I wouldn’t get away with that. You never let anything slide,” he commented, laughing a little. Eventually, she did too, both of them realising they had to, save the situation completely overwhelming you. “I like it anyway, your little belly. There’s a part of me that likes it even more, knowing my baby is in there.”
Reaching between them, he rested a hand to her little swelling, sighing and kissing her forehead. “Are we crazy if we keep it? I mean, I know there’s a certain amount of sanity we both lack as it is, but you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do. Also, yes, we would be. The thought of getting rid of it, although it seems the most logical, that seems crazy as well. Fuck, I don’t know what to do.” She succumbed to further tears at that point, Tyler holding her tightly as he soothed her, glad to realise after about twenty minutes, she’d fallen asleep.
Leaving her to it, he got up and went to walk the perimeter of Ayo’s home, heading near to where the gates were, touring the fence line while looking out over the arid landscape, dust dulling his boots. He paused by a pile of large sandstone blocks from an abandoned building project, sitting down atop them while his eyes narrowed, watching a herd of buffalo run along in the distance.
He felt envious of them, even though their lives had the ever-present threat of lions looming, it seemed preferable to what he was facing at that moment. Maybe it was their freedom he envied, how they’d instinctively move onto pastures greener when needed, their migrating habits dictating they left behind all which no longer served them.
He knew it was the flight instinct within him tugging, gnawing away at him to flee, but he was resolute. He’d never abandon someone who needed him again. He would not leave Liliya alone with this weight around her neck. That man had died when she’d made him face up to his past and begin to heal from it.
If they did decide to go ahead with the pregnancy, he knew that healing had to be kicked into the kind of gear which meant he’d no longer be able to depend on alcohol and Oxycontin in order to function, to subdue his PTSD and sleep at night without being haunted by his dreams. He had no choice; another child meant he had to screw his head on right.
There’d be no margin for error. He wouldn’t be an addict and a father.
Would he actually be a father again, though? Was the time right? It would take much more of that very thing, time, for them to reach a decision. Unluckily, it was the one thing they truly didn’t have much of either.
Link on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/79004665
“I don’t know about this,” Esme grumbles, as she pads down the stairs in her bare feet; a black patent leather clutch in one hand and a simple pair of matching heels in the other. “You really think I should do this? I don’t think it’s a good idea. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“We already talked about it,” Tyler’s attention doesn’t divert from the flat screen television mounted on the wall on the far side of the living room; perched on the edge of the couch, fingers and thumbs feverishly manipulating the video game controller clutched tightly in his hands. “You’ll be with your sister. In a crowded public place. Not even Mark is THAT stupid.”
“Stupid enough to follow you today.”
“He wasn’t there to do anything to me. He was just there to send a message. Get under my skin.”
“Did it work?”
“ Let’s just put it this way; he wouldn’t still be breathing if I’d gotten a hold of him.”
“He planned that well, huh? Follow you to a busy place, get your attention, haul ass out of there before you could get to him.”
“That guy is a lot of things, but he’s not stupid. He knew if he’d caught me anywhere else that I’d be able to grab him. And it wouldn’t have ended well for him. Like you said, he knows he can’t beat me. Why would he even try?”
“Feed his ego. In ways his tiny dick can’t,” she scoffs, and tosses the clutch and the heels onto the loves eat. “What are you doing?”
“I’m killing people. In the most gruesome and painful ways possible.”
“That’s one way to get all your rage and aggression out. Gym time didn’t do it, huh?”
“Nope. Not even in the slightest.”
“I guess it’s better to slaughter people in video game land than in real life. Save some of that aggression, okay? I’ll let you take out the last of it on me later.”
His eyes never waver from the video game as a slow grin spreads across his face. “You’re getting drunk tonight, aren’t you.”
“Do you want me to?”
“Doesn’t matter what I want. If you want to get loaded, go for it. It’s kinda fun when you do.”
“Kind of?” She perches herself on the arm of the couch. “ I thought drunk, uninhibited Esme was your favourite.”
“Baby, all sides of you are my favourite.”
“You’re so cute,” she declares, and playfully ruffles his hair before grabbing a hold of both of his ears and dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “You know that being adorable is my weakness. And you just play it for all it’s worth, don’t you.”
“Did you seriously just call me cute and adorable in the same sentence?”
“I did. Because you ARE cute and adorable. Deal with it.”
“I have a reputation to uphold. And it makes it very hard when you insult me like that.”
“Listen buddy, it’s possible to be a bad ass AND cute and adorable at the same time. You manage. You’ve got the whole range going on. You’ve got that whole savage, rip someone’s throat out, impale their face on a garden rake side to you, but you’ve also you’ve got this subdued and sweet side; all cuddly and sappy and pouty.”
“I don’t pout.”
“You do. And all SEVEN of your children inherited it.”
“Esme, I do NOT pout.”
“Husband, I happen to have photographic proof that you do. In the same way I have recordings proving that you snore. Don’t make me break out the evidence.”
“I scowl. Or smirk. Or frown. I do not pout.”
“You do. You’re doing it right now actually.”
“IF I am, it’s because you’re distracting me and I’m getting my ass kicked and…”
A litany of profanities tumble from his mouth and he tosses the controller onto the cluttered coffee table; heaving a groan of frustration as he rakes his through his hair and then runs his palms down his face. “See what you made me do? I was in the middle of the best game of my life and you…” His words trail off as he finally glances over at her; eyes slowly feasting on every inch of her body, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. It isn’t completely uncommon; seeing makeup gracing that near flawless complexion and those smooth, petite features. She routinely wears it when she heads to work; a slight touch of blush and a swipe of mascara and occasionally a light dusting of shadow. Tonight she’s gone for a more dramatic look; black and gray and a hint of sparkling gold at the inside corners of her eyes and her lips painted a deep red and her hair styled in loose curls. But the outfit itself is the most striking; a mix of beige and black and gold brocade that fits like a second skin and doesn’t even skim her knees.
“Speaking of distractions…”
She’s beaming as she gets to her feet. Hands smoothing over the fabric; travelling over the curves of her hips and her ass. The simple movements bringing about an even bigger and powerful reaction inside of him. “What do you think?”
“What is it?”
“What do you mean what is it? It’s a dress.”
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“You realize you’re sounding like an overprotective father right now, don’t you? What’s next? You want me to call you dad? Or daddy?”
“That’s just so fucking wrong and so goddamn gross and you know it.”
“This is the dress I was telling you about. The Herve Leger. That Desi picked out for me.”
“I don’t know who this Herve Leger is, but I think he ripped you off. Because I’m pretty sure for the amount of money you probably paid for that thing, you’re missing about three quarters of the fabric.”
“What do you want me to wear? A nun’s habit?”
“Now that you mention it…”
"Don’t be a prude! I bought this dress mostly for you, I’ll have you know. You don’t like it?”
“Oh I like it. I think I like it a little TOO much, if you know that I mean. Instant reaction.”
“You really are a huge walking ball of hormones, aren’t you. Isn’t this where men are supposed to slow down? In the sexual desire department? You’re almost fifty. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be a walking hard on anymore.”
“Listen, I may be almost fifty, but I am married to the most beautiful, hottest woman on the planet. And I’m not like most men. So…”
“You’ve got a very good and valid point there. Do you like it though? Because I really did buy it for you. Because I WAS hoping to get that kind of reaction.”
“Me, ‘like’ is not strong enough of a word for what I’m feeling right now. Actually, I don’t think there is a word strong enough for what’s going on...down under.”
She glances down at the obvious erection straining against the fabric of his sweats, then rolls her eyes and grabs one of the throw cushions off the couch; lightly and playfully smacking him upside the head with it before dropping it into his lap. “Rein that thing in, would you? What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I’m a red blooded male that’s insanely sexually attracted to his wife. And she’s walking around in the house in THAT and she expects me NOT to react?”
“I have to admit, THIS? THIS kind of reaction from you? Way better than what I expected. I knew you’d like it, but I didn’t think you’d like it this much.”
“Babe, like I said, the word ‘like’ doesn’t even come close. And if you bought that with me in mind, why are you wearing it out? Why aren’t you saving it for JUST my eyes?”
“I wanted to give you a sneak peek. Get you all revved up and then leave you for hours to stew and then come home and let you be in charge of taking it off.”
“I’m not even gonna take it off you. I’m just going to lift the bottom up and…”
“Don’t be a pig, seriously.”
“I don’t know what you expect from me. I can’t help the way I am when it comes to you. You think you’d be used to it by now. And if you were talking about the dress earlier when you asked if I thought it was a good idea? No. I don’t think it is. I think it’s a horrible idea. It’s hideous. Take it off. Right now. Right here.”
Heaving an exasperated sigh, she steps between his splayed thighs. “You just said you liked it!”
“I more than like it. But…” His hands settle on her hips; fingers biting through the fabric of the dress. “...if I like it this much? You know other guys will. And that…”
“Oh….I see…” Stepping even closer to him, she pushes her hands through his hair; nails scraping against his scalp and down onto the nape of his neck. “...THAT’S what the issue is. You don’t like the idea of me wearing this where other men are.”
“That is EXACTLY the issue. If you’re getting this reaction out of me…”
“I thought you weren’t self conscious. When it comes to other guys checking me out.”
“I’m not. This isn’t about being self conscious. I know whose bed you’re going to wind up in. Whose bed you’ve been in every night for twelve and a half years. Just like I know how I keep you happy. In every way that matters. ESPECIALLY in that bed.”
His gaze never wavers from hers; top teeth dragging over his bottom lip as he reaches around to lay his palms against the backs of her knees. Callused fingertips grazing against the soft flesh as they travel upwards; over smooth flesh and the beginnings of well defined hamstring muscles. Seeing that slight blush that takes over her face when he journeys even further; under the hem of the dress and all the way to the bottom of her ass cheeks. One finger continuing the exploration; a grin breaking out across his face at the discovery of lacy thong.
“Nice,” he praises. “You’re pulling out at all the stops, aren’t you.”
“I know how to keep you happy too,” she retorts. “Especially in the ways that matter the most.”
“You definitely do.” The tip of his finger runs along that strip of lace, then pushes it aside; watching her reaction as the digit slides through the soft, supple cheeks and briefly comes in contact with the tight, puckered hole. Feeling victorious when she inhales sharply and her entire body shudders violently.
Her eyes narrow as she looks down at him. “You’ve got issues.”
“I do,” he admits. “And my main one is coming in at about ten inches right now.”
“What is your major malfunction? Why ARE you so horny all the time?”
“Would you rather I not be?”
“I didn’t say THAT…”
“You should be proud of yourself, babe. Still getting that kind of reaction out of me twelve and a half years later. That I’m still this much in lust with you.”
“You actually seem even more so NOW. I always thought that kind of thing slowed down. Or that men got bored way before twelve years into it.”
“First off, how is it supposed to slow down when you just got even sexier with each kid you had? I mean, you were hot when we first met and I was practically willing to grovel at your feet for sex back then. But now? After you’ve had my babies? And your body looks like it does? This isn’t going to go away anytime soon. And I don’t think you really want it to.”
“It IS an ego booster,” she admits. “To be wanted THAT much.”
“Second, don’t ever compare me to other men. I think I proved a long time ago that I’m not even in the same category.”
“Speaking of egos, I see yours is very healthy this evening.”
“It has its moments. Speaking of moments…” he runs a fingertip along the edge of her thong, following it around her hip and then around to her navel. “...I think you and I need to have one. Before Desi and Shaena get back with the kids.”
“I think YOU need to take a cold shower.”
“What did you expect from me? Walking around in that? You knew exactly what you were doing when you bought that thing, didn’t you. And these…” the tip of his finger dips under the waistband of her underwear. “...you knew EXACTLY what you were doing.”
She grins devilishly. “Like I said, I specifically bought it with you in mind.”
“Was it to turn me on and give in? Or to turn me on and then leave me hanging?”
“It’s only a few hours, Tyler. I think you’ll be just fine.”
“You know what I think? I think you need to be nice to me.”
“I’m ALWAYS nice to you. Especially from a sexual standpoint. Did I not put out this afternoon?”
“Were you not the one who wanted to?” He slides a palm up the inside of her thigh; fingers gliding along the hem of her panties. Adding to the torture being administered by the lone digit that traces circles around her navel. “ That asked me for sex? Or am I imagining things?”
“If you’re going to go out and let other guys look at you in that dress, I think you need to get permission first.”
She smirks; enjoying the lust that darkens his eyes and deepens his voice even further. “You do, do you? And how do I go about getting that permission from you?”
“Well first,” he slides a finger underneath the edge of her panties, coating the tip with the warm, slick fluid that has already gathered between her legs. He briefly makes contact with her clit before withdrawing; eyes never leaving hers when he sucks his finger clean. “You need to get on your knees and put that pretty little mouth to use. I want to see what that shade of red looks like on my cock.”
“I don’t think it’s your colour. Won’t do anything for your eyes.”
Smirking, he reaches around with both hands to grab a hold of her ass; fingers pinching and squeezing with enough force to bruise the soft flesh. “You’re going to play this game, are you?”
“”Whatever happened to your manners? Do I get a ‘please’ out of you?”
“You get a ‘get on your knees and get to work’ out of me.”
“Mmmm….” She swipes the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. “...you know how much I enjoy it when you’re like this. All bossy and aggressive. But I don’t know….”
“What’s there to know? I tell you what to do. You do it. So, get on your knees and do something else with your mouth other than talking.”
She stares down at him pointedly; hand on a cocked hip and an eyebrow arched.
When it comes to the ‘game’, she doesn’t normally become defiant or ‘bratty’; preferring to be completely obedient and submissive to him. The sexual roles had been quickly established; those initial days in Dhaka making it very clear what she not only enjoyed, but needed AND wanted. And despite his initial reservations and the fears that he’d become too aggressive and rough and actually hurt her, he’d discovered just how much he was into it as well; having the power and the control and the ego boost that came with being able to pleasure someone THAT much. In the months afterwards -as those initial feelings of lust and infatuation began quickly morphing into love and adoration and worship- the ground rules became established; safe words, lines that shouldn’t be crossed, limits that shouldn’t be tested. Open and honest communication in regards to sex always the most important thing; neither a mind reader and having to trust the other in regards to keeping them safe. Over the years, verbal communication has become almost completely unneeded; well versed in the meanings behind the different touches and kisses and facial expressions.
Amused by the devilish sparkle to her eyes, a smirk plays on his mouth as his both hands slide under the back of her dress and roughly squeeze her ass. “Please.”
“Well now that you ask so nicely…” Laying her hands on his shoulders, she leans down to merely brush her mouth against his; tongue sweeping across his bottom lip before capturing it between her teeth. “...maybe I’ll consider it.”
“So you’re into THIS kind of thing tonight, are you? Being a brat?”
“I thought you liked that sometimes. That you didn’t mind when I put up a bit of a fight. Gave you a challenge. That sometimes you don’t want me giving in easily; being entirely and utterly submissive to you.”
“Sometimes I don’t mind. But right now? Right now I want you on your knees sucking my cock.”
“Why didn’t you just say it like that the first couple of times? If you’d said it just like that…”
He reaches up to wrap a hand around her throat; fingers pressing into soft, pale flesh. “On your knees,” he demands. “Now.”
She finally relents; the mischievous glitter in her eyes replaced by one that speaks of both surrender and lust. The soft smile that curves her lips is a testament to her willingness to please him; an unspoken agreement to fully submit. Willing to be obedient and to follow his orders instead of refusing or questioning them. The level of trust in him enormous; confident that he’ll never subject her to anything degrading or humiliating, and will never put her into a situation that would bring up painful memories of her sexually abusive ex. Fully confident that he’ll respect her boundaries and not even attempt to get too close to them; fully aware of just how far he can take things and not once -in the past twelve and half years - crossing the line.
It had taken them both a considerable amount of time to adjust to being THAT comfortable with each other. Esme haunted by the things that had been forced upon her, and Tyler afraid of harming her; not fully aware of his own strength and worried that their considerable size difference would lead to him unintentionally hurting her. It had been a learning process; getting familiar with the things that pleasured them the most and they felt one hundred percent at ease with, and then eventually branching out into discovering new things. Learning how to completely trust each other not just with their hearts, but their bodies as well.
His hands slip through her hair as she kneels between his thighs; combing through the dark curls and letting them slip through his fingers. Not just enjoying the power and the control he has over her in this moment, but the way she looks up at him; slowly smoothing her tongue across moist lips and her dark eyes wide and glistening with a mixture of playfulness and desire. Always so eager to please; sexually AND emotionally. And while she hadn’t been innocent when they’d met, there had been a nervousness and hesitation following their initial sexual encounter. Things had happened so fast that neither of them had had the opportunity to even think about what they were doing, let alone consider any immediate or long term consequences. A blinding and all consuming lust fuelled by years of loneliness, profound grief and hurt, and feelings of failure and self loathing.
During the intimacy that occurred after the first day, she’d suddenly been apprehensive and bashful; a far cry from the woman who’d been so confident and assertive just hours before. Embarrassed when it came to asking for what she wanted and needed; the after effects of being married to a man who’d never taken the time to get to know her body and had never once considered making sex an enjoyable experience for her. After that, Tyler had been determined to be the guy that made her forget all the others who came before him; worshipping every inch of her and discovering all those magical little places that no one had ever found before, encouraging to be vocal just what she liked, wanted, AND needed.
“Look at you,” he says now, as hand continues to move through her hair, gently pushing it off her forehead and looping it behind her ears. A palm settles on the side of her face and cradles it tenderly; rough calluses a striking contrast against the smoothness of her skin. His thumb repeatedly brushing against the top of her cheek as the tips of his fingers stroke her jaw. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”
Her smile broadens. One of pure contentment and pride. Enjoying the praise he’s always heaped upon her; years spent telling her that she’s gorgeous and assuring her that she’s not just loved, but needed and wanted in ways that she could never possibly understand. That he doesn’t want anyone BUT her; no other woman even existing in his eyes. And sometimes it’s enough; cutting through the layers of self consciousness and doubt that her ex husband and his mistreatment had heaped upon her. Other days nothing he says or does even come close to making a dent; she scoffs or rolls her eyes at the compliments, buries her body under clothes that are miles too large. She’d even hid her body from him for five years; covering her swimsuits with a t-shirt, refusing to undress from the waist up when they made love, changing in the bathroom as opposed to the bedroom so he wouldn’t see her.
At first he’d been both irritated and angry; as if she was somehow insinuating that he was a judgemental asshole would look at her as anything but perfect. They’d been married for years and had made seven babies together; he didn’t understand how he’d been able to see her naked multiple times and suddenly she was so against it. It had taken the therapist to get him to realize that it was nothing he’d said or done and that it was a mental health issue; struggling to accept her body in comparison to what it was when they first met and seeing it so much worse than it actually is.
“I love you.” He finds it impossible to stick with the narrative of the game. The almost innocent expression on her face and the softness in her eyes; a mix of love and trust and the eagerness to please.
The circumstances of the day make it too hard to be rough and demanding; the immense vulnerability she’d shown earlier and her near crippling fear of her ex making Tyler’s need to protect even stronger. Hurting her -even unintentionally and consensually- isn’t where his mind or his body want to be; hoping to avoid bringing out further memories of the things that . And he abandons the original course and slides his hand to the nape of her neck and pulls her into a kiss; a series of soft, brief pecks that slowly morph into more. The languid and lazy movements of closed mouth open closed mouth, followed by the brief press of tongues against teeth before being allowed admittance. All resolve slipping away; patience and tenderness replaced by something more desperate and hungry.
Without breaking the contact, he wraps an arm around her and effortlessly hoists her into his lap. Both hands slipping under her dress and palming her ass as she places a knee on either side of him; the kiss only becoming deeper and more intense as her hands aggressively push through his hair. Breaking away with a pained hissed when she twists and yanks at the longer strands and allowing his head to fall to the side. Eyes closing and his heart rate quickening when the tip of her tongue slowly and agonizingly traces the outer edge of his ear. A shuddering sigh released at the mixture of sensations that are unleashed along his jaw and the side of his neck; the peppering of light kisses, the suckling of moist lips, the scraping and nipping of teeth. And when she reaches his mouth, the need and aggression on both their parts return. The fierce battle of tongues and the pawing and grabbing of desperate and impatient hands; sweats pushed down over his ass and hips, dress shoved up to her waist and the crotch of the thong pushed hastily aside.
A groan rumbles deep within his chest when his cock slides between her slick folds; grip on her ass tightening when she places her hands on his shoulders to aid in lifting herself. And his eyes close and his head falls back at the initial moment of penetration; never tired of the way she still stretches to accommodate his length and the way her muscles twitch and contract around it. Never bored of the familiarity of it all. Her body seeming as if it was made solely for him; right from the beginning fitting so effortlessly and perfectly and always so responsive to even the slightest of touches.
“Fuck…” It comes out as a breathy sigh; every nerve ending seeming as if it’s on fire as she begins a slow, steady, and purposefully rocking motion.
Her fingernails manage to push through the fabric of his t-shirt and dig into his shoulders, and in response one palm graces the cheek of her ass with a ringing slap before both hands move to her hips. It isn’t often he hands over control; preferring to always take the lead and be the one in charge. For now he allows it. Entire body shuddering when he once more feels the slick of tongue against his ear; quickly followed by her mouth suckling at the side of his neck and her teeth nipping at the flesh. Eyes opening when she again snatches him by the hair and forces him to look at her.
“What if the kids come home?” Her movements never stall. “Right in the middle of things?”
“They’ll have to knock. I locked them out.”
She grins. “You had this planned?”
“I was hopeful. That you’d give in. If I tried hard enough.”
“You should know by now that you barely have to try at all. Just have to look at me a certain way and…”
His top teeth drag along his bottom lip. “What way?”
“The way you’re looking at me right now. You don’t realize you’re doing it. You don’t see it. But I do. Now…” her hands slide over his hair and down onto the back of his neck; nails pressing into the skin. “...kiss me and fuck me like you’re never going to get the chance to do either of those things again.”
An animalistic growl erupts from him, and a hand moves to the space between her shoulders as a forearm lays across the small of her back. A whimper escaping her as he fucks up into her; a brutal and punishing pace that has her eyes closing and her chin dropping to her chest. Body immediately responding; hips both moving in sync with his and pressing forward in order to cause friction against her clit. In turn he kisses, licks and sucks at the hollow of her throat and then across the generous neckline of her dress. Causing her to squeal when he aggressively suckles at the top of her left breast.
“THAT’S going to leave a mark,” she giggles. “Hickies? Really, Tyler? How old are we?”
“I don’t give a fuck what my age is. I’m marking my territory. All those guys that are going to be checking you out? They’ll see that and know you’ve got someone else and that they can fuck off.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. There’s not going to be any men checking me out.”
“Like hell there’s not. You’re hot. So fucking hot.”
“In your delusional little world, maybe. But in the real world…”
“Fuck this…” he growls, and snags her by the hips; pulling her off him and roughly tossing her down beside him. Manhandling her as he puts her in the position he wants; back towards him with her hands flat against the top of the couch and her legs spread with knees pressed into the cushions. “...you want to talk shit about yourself?” He reaches around to grab hold of her throat; fingers pressing into the tender flesh as he plunges into her with one firm, savage stroke. “I’m going to show just how hot I find you. How much I want you. How fuckable you actually are.”
It’s rough and punishing; one hand around her throat and the other placed against her stomach. The slap of skin against skin and ragged breathing filling the room; mixed together with the grunts and groans and cries that accompany carnal pleasure. Two fingers easily bringing her to an orgasm; rubbing and pulling and pinching at her clit. Screaming his name at the intensity of her completion, and then crying out into the back of the couch as he continues to fuck her through the spasming of her internal muscles. Groaning in disappointment when he suddenly pulls away.
“On your knees,” he orders, forcibly and rapidly stroking his cock in order to bring himself to the edge. “I wanna come in your mouth.”
She does as she’s told; sliding off the couch and dropping to the floor in front of him. Briefly licking at the engorged head of his cock before taking him as far as she can; initially gagging and then settling into a comfortable rhythm.
“Look at me.” He buries his hands in her hair and tugs, forcing her to look up. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
She immediately obeys. Continuing to deep throat him as a hand gently massages and fondles his balls.
“You are so fucking beautiful” he praises, one hand releasing its grip on her hair in favour of gently cradling the side of her face in the palm. “Especially with my cock in your mouth. Let me fuck it, yeah? Let me fuck your mouth?”
A nod gives him the consent he needs, and he places both hands on the back of her head as he vigorously thrusts. It’s a wicked combination; the movement against his cock, the tugging and massaging of his balls that becomes more aggressive. And he barely has the time to warn her before he reaches his release; holding her head still as he empties himself down her throat. His grip eventually loosening; legs shaking and threatening to give way underneath him as his eyes close and his chin drops to his chest. And when he finally looks down, she’s staring up at him with those huge, dark eyes; gaze never wavering as she swallows every last, remaining drop of cum. Slowly cleaning his length with her tongue and her lips, then pulling back and grinning at him.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and cups her chin in his hand; a gentle pressure encouraging her to get to her feet. “I love you. So fucking much.”
“I love you,” she says, her hands resting on his hips as he leans down to kiss her.
Wrapping both arms around her, he turns his back towards the couch and then drops heavily onto it, pulling her down onto his lap. His gaze loving and adoring as it sweeps over her face; a gentle palm attempting to tame the now wild and unruly tresses that fall over her face.
“I’m sorry,” he manages through ragged breaths. “I think I fucked up your hair. And your makeup.”
She laughs, then curls her arms around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder. “Small price to pay for an orgasm like THAT.”
“That was a good one, huh?”
“They always are with you.”
“Yeah, but I felt that one. When you came. I felt it BIG time.”
“You certainly are a man that takes pride in his work. And knows how to get results.”
“I put in the effort,” he grins, and turns his face into her, capturing her lips in a slow, slow kiss. “You’re an awesome wife, you know that?”
She giggles as she reaches up to clear wayward strands of hair off his forehead. “I try.”
The restaurant specializes in both Japanese and American cuisine and is housed atop a hotel on the Upper West side; Riley’s choice after seeing numerous online praises and compliments. It’s neither too formal or too casual; a four season glass sunroom with strings of white lights strung along the tops of the glass and loosely draped across the ceiling. Fine china and sparkling silverware atop navy blue tablecloths adorned with celestial patterns stitched with gold and silver thread. A glass vase in the middle of the table; silver, gold and blue rocks gathered at the bottom and boasting a simple arrangement of white and red chrysanthemums.
Despite living next door to each other, girls' nights have become few and far between. Both lead extremely busy lives; businesses to run and seven children to raise on one side, a full time nursing career and a side gig as a small animal rescuer on the other. What used to be a weekly occurrence now only happening once a month if they’re lucky; having to rely instead on day off visits to each other’s homes, lunch out when their schedules allow it, gatherings on the beach. So it’s nice to get out alone; talk about the things you’re not comfortable disclosing around other people, laugh over old memories, reconnect and keep that sisterly bond strong and unbreakable.
Riley regards her from across the table; a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’ve got that look.”
Esme doesn’t look up from the menu in front of her; wine glass pressed against her lips. “What look?”
“The whole ‘just got banged like a screen door in the middle of a hurricane’ look.”
She laughs. “I haven’t heard that saying in YEARS.”
“Remember how Gram used to say it all the time? About any sexy guy she saw on tv? Or when the dementia started to kick in and she thought she was still living in Old Hollywood times? She’d say how Montgomery Clift and Rock Hudson could bang her like that? God, she was so inappropriate. In the most awesome and epic ways.”
“Where do you think you get it from? Your penchant for saying whatever you want, whenever you want. You’re not exactly shy when it comes to discussing things. Especially sex.”
“What’s there to be shy about? It’s a normal thing that human beings do. And it’s damn fun, am I right?”
“Right as rain.”
“I know your looks, Me-Me. I’ve come to recognize them VERY well over the last five years. When I’ve shown up unexpectedly at the house and caught you two right after you humped like rabbits. Not to mention procreate like them, too.”
“We like to have sex. It’s our favourite pastime. And we never pass up the opportunity.”
“So you DID get banged.”
A slight blush creeps into her cheek and she takes a swallow of wine. “We might have gotten up to some...adult...things.”
“I knew it. I know you two so well. I see the little looks you give each other all the time. The ones that say you can’t wait to get some time alone so he can cop a root. How the hell do you two manage? To keep up like that? Especially after twelve and a half years and seven kids. The fact you still are that attracted to each other and want each other THAT much?”
“I doubt it’s unusual. I’m sure a lot of couples are like that. Ten years later, twenty, thirty. Not all couples get bored with each other. Are you bored with Shaena?”
“Hell no. Every time is like the first time. But it’s also only been five years, so…”
“When you love someone, you don’t get bored of them. I should know; I used to get tired of people after just a couple months. With Tyler? I am never bored of him. Or with him. I don’t even like thinking about not having him around. And it’s nice; having that much love and lust for someone and knowing they feel the same way about you. To know how much someone adores you and wants you? Who DOESN’T want that?”
“A lot of people, apparently. Hence the number of singles out there and high divorce rates.”
“I like to think Tyler and I will never be part of that rate. I mean, we’ve come pretty damn close, but we never let it happen. We busted our ass to fix things and ourselves. And I know that no matter how bad things get, we’ll work at getting past them. I don’t doubt that for one second.”
“Are things bad? Between you guys?”
“I never said that.”
“You sort of hinted at it. There was a little insinuation there. Are things okay? Are you guys alright?”
“We’re fine. Better than fine. We’re going through some things, but nothing to do with our marriage. He’s got his issues with his mental health and work is crazy busy and I’ve got my own worry and stress surrounding how he’s doing.”
“You need to stop that,” Riley scolds. “Worrying about him so much. He’s a grown ass man. He is more than capable of taking care of himself. He’s not a child, Me-Me. He knows to take his meds and go to his therapy appointments and he’s been damn good about doing both. He’s done a hell of a lot better managing all of this than anyone thought he would.”
“I know he has. And I’m proud of him. I know how badly he struggles and I see just how well he fights it. But how do I NOT worry about him? He’s my husband. He’s the father of my children. The love of my life. I can’t just stop being concerned about him. In the same way he can’t turn off that side of him. Do you think he’d be able to? Just stop being protective of me? That’s just who Tyler is. And that’s not going to change, believe me. It hasn’t changed in twelve and a half years.”
“You’re both insanely anal when it comes to taking care of one another, you realize that? That you just both go way overboard? I mean, I get it. I do. I know what you two have been through together. What you saw on that bridge and what you had to do to keep him alive. I know how much you love each other and would do anything for one another. But Esme, when worrying about someone else takes away from taking care of yourself? That’s not good.”
“Well it’s a good thing I’m fine. For the most part. I stress. That’s just me. When am I NOT stressed? I’ve been feeling great. Mentally. But when he got back from Cambodia and there was this huge change to him and things started to fall apart…”
“You two need to get back home,” Riley concludes, and sips at her wine. “This is not the place you need to be. Middle of a huge, busy city. You both are always a lot calmer and happier when you’re back in Australia. It’ll do wonders for both your brains. Not to mention the therapist is there, so…”
“Things are just insane this year. And the stressful and weird shit just keeps coming and coming and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to let up.”
“You want to talk about? This weird and stressful shit? I’m assuming it’s stuff I don’t already know about.”
“Things I haven’t got around to telling you,” Esme admits, then swallows the last of her wine and reaches for the bottle that chills in a bucket next to their table. Taking a small sip and then frowning down at her glass. “I don’t even know if I should be drinking this or if I’m just going to fuck things up.”
“Fuck what up? I already told you; the meds you’re on aren’t strong enough to cause problems when mixed with booze.”
“It’s not that. It’s…” she sets her drink down on the table, then sighs heavily. “...you're going to think I’m crazy.”
“I already think that,” her sister chides. “And have for a while. What’s up? What’s got your panties in a bunch?”
“This is really weird. Even for me. So that’s REALLY saying something. You’re going to laugh, I just know it. Or look at me like I’ve grown another head.”
“Just spit it out. I’m a nurse. For people with dementia. Do you know how much weird I hear? Even in just one shift??
“This just…” she shakes her head in disbelief and taps her fingernails against the side of her glass. “...is it possible to get pregnant after having your tubes tied?”
“Definitely. Getting them tied isn’t an absolute. I think the number is something like one in two hundred; the women that will still get pregnant afterwards.”
“What about when your husband’s been neutered? God, I shouldn’t call it that. But that’s what Tyler refers to it as and I guess it’s just stuck with me.”
“It all depends. Those procedures don’t always work. Did he go for a follow up afterwards? To see if anything was still happening down there?”
“About six months after it. And it showed there were still some active swimmers. I swear, he has seriously resilient and determined sperm.”
“Did he go after that? To see?”
“No. We just kept doing our thing. Nothing ever happened. We haven’t used protection in years. Since Kota and Brookie were born. And there’s been no babies, so…”
“You think you are? Pregnant?”
“I don’t know,” Esme admits. “I don’t think so. I mean, why would it happen after this long? Why wouldn’t it happen before?”
“Some things can’t be explained. And all it takes is a single lucky bastard to get through and…”
“My period hasn’t come in two months,” she frets. “I keep feeling like it’s going to; I get crampy and miserable and my boobs hurt. And then it disappears. Maybe it’s the start of menopause?”
“You’re only forty one.”
“Perimenopause? Maybe? I don’t know. But it's hard believe that if I was going to get pregnant, it wouldn't have happened long before now. It should have, right? Happened a lot sooner?"
“Not necessarily. It all depends on what's going on with you. You could have spent the last four and a half years forming scar tissue and once it finally finished, it formed its own tube and…”
“Okay, you are NOT helping.”
“Would it really be that bad? Another baby? You already have seven.”
“That’s exactly it. I DO have seven. I don’t need another one.”
“In the grand scheme of things, what’s one more? And it would give you eight. Tyler would be stoked; an even number.”
Esme sighs heavily and reluctantly takes a swallow of wine.
“Have you told him? That you think you might be?”
“No. I haven’t. And you want to know why? Because I’ve had my tubes tied and he’s had a vasectomy. He’s going to think I’m insane. Or that I cheated on him and some other guy knocked me up.”
“Okay, first of all, Tyler would NEVER think that. That you would cheat on him. He’s never had to reason to think you would. And let’s face it; you’d never be that kind of person.”
“I love him. I’d never do that to him. I don’t want anyone else. Just him. But if this puts even the smallest seed of doubt into this mind…”
“It won’t,” Riley assures her. “You need to tell him. He’s your husband. Don’t keep that from him. Trust me, he’s not going to think you’re cheating or that you’re crazy. Well, he won’t think you’re crazier than you already are.”
Esme stares at her pointedly.
“Just tell him. Then buy a test and find out. It’s not the end of the world, if you are. You might make a good case for a medical paper, but…”
“This is just too much. The thought of having another baby. Especially right NOW?”
“You guys have things under control. Yeah, there’s some mental health stuff going, but it’s being treated and it’s not posing a threat to either of you or your kids. And let’s face it; you guys have the money, the space, AND the love to handle another one. It wouldn’t be THAT bad.”
“It’s not just the mental health stuff,” Esme admits. “It’s not that he’s struggling. Because he’s an amazing father no matter what he’s dealing with. It’s actually not about Tyler at all. Or me. It’s...I don’t even know where to begin. Or what to say.”
“Just get it out. Don’t even think about what you’re saying. Just say it.”
“I don’t want to ruin our night,” Esme laments. “And trust me, this will. It’s messed up, Ry. It really is.”
“I’ve heard a lot of messed up things, Me-Me. Just tell me. I’m your sister. I can handle it.”
“Fuck…” she mutters, and takes another sip of wine before putting the glass down and pushing it away. “...this is really crazy.”
“I work in an old age home. During full moons. I can handle crazy.”
“I don’t know if you can handle this kind of crazy, but…” she heaves a shaky sigh. “...Mark’s alive.”
Riley blinks. “Excuse me, what?”
“Mark is alive,” Esme repeats. “Very much alive, actually.”
“But I thought that guy killed him? In New Zealand? I thought Mark went looking for Tyler and met up with this other guy and lost his shit and…?”
“Nathan. He took over the extraction of the McMann kids when Tyler had his mini mental breakdown. Only Nathan lied. When he said he killed him.”
“Why the hell would he do that? Lie about something like THAT?”
“I have no idea. That part makes no damn sense. Well, NONE of it makes sense, actually.”
“How the hell did you find this out? How…?”
“I saw him.”
Riley’s eyes widen. “You SAW him? Your supposedly dead ex husband. You saw him? When?”
“Yesterday. After Tyler and I had that really unsettling talk and I had to get out of the house for a bit. I went to this little cafe a couple blocks over and this guy held the door open for me. It scared the shit out of me; how much he looked like Mark. But I figured it had to be just some kind of freaky coincidence; someone who just happened to look a lot like him.”
“Poor bastard,” Riley scoffs. “Looking like THAT asshole.”
“He didn’t have any of Mark’s scars or even his weird walk. And he had a New Jersey accent. Mark was from Georgia. And he spoke like he was.”
“So then how do you know it WAS him and not someone who is unfortunate enough to look like him?”
“It WAS him. Tyler saw him too.”
“Tyler was with you, or…?”
“Tyler and Desi saw him while they were out together. They were having lunch and the waitress brought over beer and said someone at the bar bought the drinks for them. When Tyler looked over, Mark was looking right at him. And he said there was no doubt it was him.”
“And he didn’t go and drag him outside and beat his ass? Way to be asleep at the wheel, Aussie.”
“He tried to confront him but it was busy there and there were tons of people and he followed Mark outside, but he was too late. Mark was gone.”
“God I wish he had gotten a hold of him and beat the shit out of him. It’s what Mark deserves; a good old fashioned Tyler Rake ass whupping. Are you SURE about this, Me-Me? That it IS Mark? And not some random, poor asshole that looks like him?”
“I’m sure it’s him. One hundred percent sure. So is Tyler. And I trust him completely. Him AND his instincts. If Tyler says it’s Mark, it’s Mark.”
“Jesus, what a thing to find out? Especially when the girl is pure fucking evil. But there’s a lot about this I don’t understand. I can’t even begin to wrap my head around it. Why would Mark be in New York City? Has he been watching you guys? Has he been stalking you?”
“Riley, I know just about as much as you do at this point. All I know is that Mark is alive and claiming to be some guy from New Jersey named Ben Greenaway.”
“That’s all I really know. I don’t know why he’s pretending to be this person or what his motives are or exactly how long he’s been around the city or how long he’s been watching me for. But it is him and he is alive. And has been for the past almost six years.”
“And you’ve known that? All this time? That he was alive? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know. I had no clue until today, actually. That THAT guy was actually Mark. And that Mark is still alive and kicking. Unfortunately.”
“Holy shit,” Riley breathes. “This is...wow.”
“But Tyler knew,” Esme reluctantly admits. “That Mark was still alive.”
Her sister’s eyes narrow. “How long has he known for?”
“Almost six years now.”
“And he never fucking said anything? Why the hell….?”
“He had his reasons,” Esme quickly jumps to her husband’s defence. “Very good and understandable and acceptable ones. It was a really bad time for us. He almost died. You know how bad off he was. That I almost lost him. And how terrified and worried I was and how I was trying to keep it together for my kids. And he had a long road ahead and we needed to concentrate on that; I needed to be focused on helping him heal and on taking care of our children. Not to mention I was pregnant with Brookie and Kota and I was having complications and we’d lost one and we couldn’t handle it if something happened to them. That would have killed us. We never would have gotten past that. If we lost those babies…”
Riley reaches across the table and tightly squeezes her sister’s hand.
“Tyler did the right thing. Keeping it from me. Because finding out Mark was alive would have pushed me over the edge and I would have lost those babies and I never would have recovered from that. He was protecting me. And them. I can’t hold that against him.”
“But for years, Esme? To keep that back for YEARS? And how did he find out in the first place? That Mark was even alive?”
“When he got back home and was in the hospital there, he started getting calls and text messages. From an unknown number. Random, innocent shit at first. Asking how he was doing, how his family was, how life in Australia was. He just ignored it; chalked it up to someone constantly getting a hold of the wrong number.”
“Then things got more personal. They started calling him by his last name. They started talking about seeing me places and what I was wearing. What clothes the kids had on, what they were doing at recess.”
“Jesus fuck. He was watching the kids too?”
“Tyler had someone track the calls. To the Ukraine. Then he sent Koen there to find out who this person was. Koen brought back photographs and that’s how Tyler found it was Mark.”
“This is...fucked…” Riley sighs, and pours herself another glass of wine. “...well and truly fucked.”
“He sent Koen back. To take care of Mark.”
“Take care of him as in…”
“Kill him. Properly. And he couldn’t do it himself, obviously. I mean, he WANTED to. He just wasn’t in any shape to get the job done. So he trusted Koen to do it. Only when Koen got there, Mark was gone. He must have figured out Tyler was onto him.”
“And he ran. Like the chicken shit he is.”
“Tyler never heard from him again. Mark just disappeared. He went off the grid. And after a couple of years and no sign of him, Tyler figured Mark had either gotten bored and moved on, or karma caught up to him.”
Riley snorts. “Too bad it wasn’t the latter, huh?”
“Tyler had no reason to tell me. He thought any threat was gone. And he was finally back on his feet and healthy and getting stronger and we just wanted to concentrate on our lives. On raising our kids and being family. On getting back to normal. I won’t fault him for keeping it from me. He did the right thing. He really did.”
“You have way more patience and understanding with the man child than I do.”
“Everything Tyler does is done with my best interests in mind. Because he loves me. And wants to protect me. And normally I’d say he’s going overboard, but I’m backing him on this one. One hundred percent.”
“Well if there’s one thing I’ve never doubted? It’s how much he loves you. And how he’ll do anything for you. That man would stop at nothing to keep you safe. Is he going to handle this himself, or…?”
“He almost died for me, Ry. Twice. I don’t want there to be a third time. I asked him to let someone else look into things and handle it. I know it’s just Mark, but we don’t know what he’s up to or what kind of bullshit he’s going to try. And I’d rather Tyler not put himself at risk again. He has way too much to lose. And so do I and so do my kids.”
“Well if he needs any help, I’ll gladly lend a hand in catching and punishing that asshole. Are you okay? With all of this?”
“No,” Esme admits. “I’m nowhere near okay with any of this. It has been one hell of a month. Tyler going to Cambodia and that fucking him up, now this whole ‘could it be a baby?’ thing and drama with that thirsty bitch of a neighbour. Finding out Mark is alive? How do I even being to process that?”
Smirking, Riley pushes the glass of wine towards her sister. “With a lot of booze, that’s how.”
“I can’t drink. What if it IS a baby? And I go ahead and drink and…?”
“Esme, I say this as a nurse. One night is NOT going to damage anything. You’re not drinking on the regular, you don’t have a booze problem. It’s just one night, babe.”
“But what if it is? A baby? That would be number eight!”
“Like I said, Tyler would LOVE it. He’d get his even number.”
“What if it’s twins? AGAIN? Or more than that?”
“I highly doubt THREE sets of twins or any other combination of multiples are in your cards. Another baby isn’t a bad thing.”
“At this time it is. With all this shit going on? This is NOT the time for a baby.”
“Was Dhaka? The first time around? You were pregnant with Millie.”
“Very early into it. She was conceived there. I didn’t find out I was having her until two months later.”
“And Tyler still had a long road ahead of him. He wasn’t even home yet. And he wouldn’t be home permanently for months. He was still in the step down place for his injuries, drug and alcohol rehab. But you guys did it. You dealt with it. You got a place and you moved in together and got to know each other and got married. And you had a beautiful baby girl. It worked out fine.”
“We were younger then,” Esme attempts to reason. “ We didn’t have so many other things on our plates.”
“You and Tyler have only gotten better and stronger. What should have killed your marriage, made it indestructible. That all would have destroyed weaker people. You two? You just loved each other even harder and deeper. That’s why another baby wouldn’t be horrible. It would be amazing. Trust me.”
“Look at Declan. You guys made him when you were separated. That wasn’t the best time, right? The two T's; you found out you were pregnant with them in Mumbai. What about Ads? You found out you were having her during all that bullshit in Ireland. And Takota and Brooklyn? Need I say more? You and Tyler have gotten through some heavy duty problems. And so have your babies.”
Esme nods slowly as she considers her sister’s words.
“It’s going to be okay,” Riley assures her, and tightly squeezes her hand. “And I’ll help to make sure it stays that way.”
He’s iron hard within your molten core, piledriving your slick with lethal intent, ferociously aroused. Your skin smacks together, his grunts peppering the air, drowning out the soft little cries you emit in response to this, a full-on attack to your insides.
He told you this was what he intended, to give you a fucking worthy of rearranging your guts as soon as he awoke, nudging your back with the enormous erection now pleasuring you with rapid strokes.
Pleasure skitters through you, sparkling your veins as he continues to thrust wildly, one hand clutching your waist, the other fisted in your hair, pulling your head back, a clear display of dominance. You’re saturated around him, so wet he can barely keep inside you, your cunt so aqueous, you’ve dripped onto the bed beneath.
“Oh god, Chris! Fuck, you’re going to go through me!” you cry, your man still moving like a jackhammer within you, his deep, rumbling laugh filling the room.
“Was that a complaint?”
“Of course not!”
He grins, amused as his hand comes down to spank you. “I didn’t think so.”
Each speedily delivered thrust has you sparking, your walls clenching around the thick heat driving into you rapaciously, his cock pumping your release into you strongly, the waves beautiful as you shatter for him, hands gripping the bedclothes beneath. He lets you cool down, slowing within you, enjoying the way your slick muscles feel as they flutter around him.
Once you’ve caught your breath, he’s all barbarous frenzy once again, invading your squelching heat with ruinous intent. Sweat mists your both, gilded by the morning sun filling your bedroom, you getting the most delicious view of that when he withdraws to throw you onto your back, grabbing your legs at the ankles and holding them high and wide before plunging back into your syrupy centre.
“You’re so fucking pretty.” He compliments you, leaning down to kiss your plump lips before sitting back on his heels once again, driving himself into you wildly, watching his slick cock enter and retreat from you intently.
You provide even more of a visual show for him by reaching down to begin rubbing your hardened clit, biting your lower lip and moaning, his hips rutting against you fiercely as he groans so deeply, it sounds like thunder.
He then slows suddenly, dragging his cock languidly, making you glimmer, leaning down to kiss you once again as he takes the weight onto his elbows, everything slow, deep and hard.
“You are so damn amazing. How can... ahh! One man be so fucking... oh fuck, right there... be so good at sex?” You stammer, a slight rotation of his hips making his cock hit spots you never knew existed.
“Lots of practice.” You can certainly bet that’s true, with a man as good looking at him, he’s bound to have a wealth of satisfied woman behind him. You’re the only one he wants now though, his gorgeous little honey who he’s always at his happiest when he’s inside of, hearing your soft moans, the way your petal soft flesh feels against him, the scent of your hair, the taste of your cunt, you drive him utterly wild with desire.
Wild is how the pace picks back up again, Chris flattening you to the bed and driving into you like a piston, pinning your arms above your head as he fucks your release into you, hot and consuming, the bliss throbbing through your aching loins, spilling himself into you deeply.
You lie still in the aftermath, his cock twitching within your spasming walls, stroking one another idly as you share soft kisses. If there’s anything waking up at 6am for, it’s most definitely that.
What’s Mine is Mine - A Thor/Reader One Shot Story.
It’s finally here, Dom!Thor! I hope everyone enjoys :) It’s kinda epic in length too, for what was meant to perhaps only be a drabble, hahahaha! You know what happens to you gal here when she gets her narrative flow on!
Word count - 3,291
Warnings - 18+, SMUT. Dom!Thor
Taglist - @katie007123
(Seeing if this layout words for the tag list actually notifying people! It did last time, so let me know, gang!)
You can feel his eyes practically burning a hole in the back of your head from across the store as you talk to the sales rep, the man in front of you only being friendly and engaging in a little harmless flirting.
Of course, it helps secure the sale and you being you, polite, you indulge him, not rebuffing his little comments or hand gestures, finding excuses to emphasise a point by touching your arm. He might be a good thirty feet from you, but you swear, for a moment, you think you hear Thor positively growl with displeasure.
“These are all the accessories that it comes with as standard, but if you were to buy this today, I could throw in these different lenses for about a third less than you’d pay for them should you return to the store at a later date.”
The salesman was efficient in his repertoire, offering more for (allegedly) less in order to garner a tidy little amount of commission, again with the flirty gestures, not realising with every time he touched your arm, he made the huge man at the door bubble further into the realms of rage.
“Honestly, it’s just the camera I’d like. I have the lenses already,” you say firmly, of course having such a long-standing hobby as photography, you don’t need to re-purchase the entire kit and caboodle just because of a sadly unrepairable accident to one of your current cameras.
He smiles at your reply, resigned to a lower monetary return, but not perhaps gaining something else from your visit to the store. “So, let me just ring all this up for you, and may I ask, if you’re single, can I get your number?”
That’s the moment you’re aware of a rapidly moving, large presence, whether he lip read it, strained his ears or picked up on the request by some other means, you don’t know, but it was those words which finally tipped Thor to boil over.
“The lady isn’t single. Back down, boy.”
You watch with slight embarrassment as the man behind the counter visibly shrinks in the presence of your towering, glowering lover, Thor taking your hand and escorting you from the store. “Thor, I need to pay for my...” is as far as he lets you get in your protest.
“You need to come with me and be quiet. It would appear I must remind you of a few things, little doe.” He calls you that because of your eyes, big and doe like, shining and innocent, framed with the longest, silkiest lashes he’s ever beheld.
In this instance, they glint as if your doe is trapped within the beam of his headlights, waiting for the impact, wondering exactly how he will remind you. You might feel nerves at stoking his jealous ire, but deep down, a slither of excitement ripples through you. His reminders are always delivered so deliciously, after all.
“Thor, can we talk...”
“Not another word. You’ll be silent until you’re spoken to.” The drive home is uncomfortable, to say the least, Thor radiating covetousness for the duration of the journey. Once you arrive, you get out of the car, making your way to the front door when suddenly, you find yourself scooped up and thrown over the broad shoulder of the disgruntled Asgardian, beginning to protest.
“I told you," he begins, hand spanking your bum firmly. “Not another word until you’re spoken to. You can also have a few more of these, too. Your penance for allowing him to touch you, no matter how briefly, and to flirt with what is mine. You are a bad girl.” Again, his hand meets your rump, a few more spanks administered, your flesh stinging beneath your clothes. What if the neighbours see? How your cheeks flush crimson at the thought of there being witnesses to your spanking.
You’re carried indoors and straight up the stairs, into the bedroom, Thor placing you down and closing the door, his imposing body corralling you back, until you’re pushed against the hard, cool wood, his size imposing, overbearing...and dangerously erotic.
You know what’s coming, now. The questions that will demand the correct answers, Thor closing the space between you, blue eyes, darkened inky navy from anger, like a stormy sky he could command and conjure, fixing upon you in a predatory stare.
Reaching to your face, he lifts your chin, tilting your head back, exposing your throat to him. Leaning close, he inhales your scent, his beard scratching you, his lips teasing the faintest of tickles against your ear, his lips parting to speak.
“Who do you belong to, little doe?”
“That’s right. Every last inch of you is mine, for me to enjoy, to shower in pleasure, to claim again and again. Who doesn’t get any of that, and never shall?”
“The guy in the store.” Just the mention of him causes a thunderous growl to rumble his throat.
“Good, that’s correct. And now, to claim all that is mine, over and over, until you can still feel me within you even when I have retreated. Are you ready for me, little doe?”
As soon as the words leaves your lips, his press to yours, a kiss of dominant hunger, claiming you, his hands taking your shirt and ripping it open, the fastening of your bra meeting the same fate as he tears them from your body.
Pushing a thigh between your legs, his fingers trailing in a titillating patter over your collarbones and down your chest, he imposes himself, rubbing that solid thigh against your sex while using it to lever your legs apart, making you whimper against his mouth. As soon as his explorative fingers reach your nipples, your body jolts, soft pink hardening to his expert touch, Thor lifting you up.
You wrap your legs around him, his arms securing you at your back, mouth closing over each stiffened pebble, groaning gruffly as he places you down on the bed. He bears down against you, the heat of his stiffness pressing deliciously against your cunt, grinding himself against you, that solid mass of thick cock teasing you through the thin fabric of your leggings.
“Do you hunger for it, little doe? Every last inch of my cock spearing into you?”
You twist beneath him, seeking more purchase when he moves himself away, pulling himself out of his clothes. “Is this what you need?” he whispers, his deep voice sinfully erotic, eyes locked on yours as his hand strokes his thick shaft.
“Please, Thor. Claim me.” You beg, his hands roughly tugging your leggings, peeling them and your underwear away, rendering you naked against him as his mouth crashes to yours in a heated kiss, panting as your tongues battle.
“I shall, but will my mouth first.” Excitement flashes through your eyes as you state into his, pupils blown and inky, your hands stroking his beard as you kiss him wantonly again.
“Remind me, how I’m yours. Eat me alive, ruin me with your tongue,” you demand lightly, knowing such is stoking the fires within him.
“Don’t I always, my beauty?” Parting your thighs, he pushes you back on the bed, mouth pressing to your sternum, hands delighting your skin as they stroke down your sides, making you feel tiny and helpless beneath him. “All mine. Every last inch. Now, to decide whether to leave you free, or fasten you down while I feast upon you.”
Something dangerous flashes through his eyes as he considered his options, that rogue desire to have you completely at his mercy, Thor sliding from the bed and reaching beneath, fetching to two coils of soft, black nylon rope beneath. “I think I want you tied. Spread your arms and legs.”
Immediately, you curl your legs beneath you, looking defiant.
“Oh no, now is no time to be a brat. Spread.”
“Make me.” Your words dagger right to his loins, Thor grabbing your ankles and pulling them out from under you, only for you to misbehave once more and resume your position with a smug giggle. His face darkens immediately, hand clutching at your throat.
“You will do as you’re told, or I shall make you wait to feel this...” He begins, his tongue then swiping up the column of your throat in a slow glide, hand then pressing against your soaking velvet folds... “right here. I will tease you until you’re unhinged. Now, do you want to be a good little doe, or must you be punished?”
“I think I’ll be good.” Spreading your legs for each loop, he threads them around your ankles, tightening them while giving you a look that is one hundred percent predatory, leaning in close to kiss you, teeth nipping your cupid’s bow.
“A wise decision.” He finally tells you, moving to then tie each end of the long rope in a series of knots, fastening you to the bedposts. “Arms.”
Immediately you assume, all four of your limbs now spread for him, his big arms flexing, making a sight for your eyes as you watch him bind each arm to the other bedposts, muscles cording, face set in concentration.
He moves back to you, settling between your legs, blanketing your softness with all that is hard and powerful, ghosting your mouth with the promise of his lips, pulling away to plant hot kisses over your breasts, kisses that descend, his mouth opening, leaving wet smacks over your flesh until he reaches your...
“Oh, oh.” That first caress of his tongue, gliding over your exposed pink, makes you squirm against your bindings, a soft gasp fluttering from your lips. The rope creaks as you grasp and pull, your hands winding around it as the firm drag of his tongue over your heat has you squirming against his mouth.
Contrary to his usual repertoire, though, he begins to back off a little, using less pressure, his mouth abandoning your folds entirely as he licks a line up your inner thigh, watching you intently as you pout. “This was all about claiming and reminding, but perhaps I was too hasty. Maybe you should be reprimanded. After all, you did nothing to stop that man from amusing himself with you.”
“I’m already tied though,” you tell him innocently, Thor chuckling deeply.
“Oh, little doe. This innocence is surely feigned, for you know well everything else I can do besides restrain you.” That deep, rumbling voice makes your skin prickle, your nipples hardening in response as you remember exactly what else he’s capable of. “I suppose I still could claim and remind, but also forgo such over certain areas, until you beg me to pay them attention.”
He spreads kisses down your thigh again, mouth ghosting your sex before those open-mouthed kisses press to your abdomen and up, a hotly planted trail reaching across your chest but leaving your aching nipples, tongue swirling over your skin.
By tasting you thoroughly, he succeeds in sating himself with each lick, but leaves you hungering for more. His intention, of course. His mouth reaches your arms, kissing, licking, gently nibbling every last part of you from shoulder to wrist, making you thrum strongly. Who’d have thought the inner elbow could turn out to be such an erogenous zone?
You’re practically a puddle before him by the time he finishes turning his attentions to your other arm, mouth settling at your neck, groaning against your ear, a deep, faint gruff that makes your cunt clench with want. Again, his mouth descends your feverish body, fingertips pattering, stroking your parted thighs as he views your dripping sex, glistening for him. The sight makes his cock throb, yet he does nothing more than exhale a hot breath across your aching folds, his mouth then descending your legs in turn.
“Please, Thor,” you croak, aroused beyond comprehension.
“Does my doe beg?”
“I do! I’m begging you, please touch me,” you pant, your body shuddering with the need for gratification.
“I’ve been touching you plenty, my love.”
“You know what I mean!” Your wail is desperate and pleading, your giant lover chuckling at your anguish.
“Where? Where do you want me to touch you? Here?” Twirling your hardened nipples just once in a soft pinch between his thumbs and forefingers, you spasm at the contact, one hand slowly trailing down over your hot skin, his thumb taking a swipe through your folds, barely catching your clit. “Or here, perhaps?”
“There! Please, right there?”
“Here?” Once again, his thumb hovers over your bundle, threatening to stroke, touching faintly.
“Please!” You cry, his mouth spreading a wide grin across his face.
“Are you sure?” You’re out of your mind at this point, body tensing as you struggle against your bindings, incandescent that he could find such amusement in your sexual anguish. “Would here not be worthy of my touch also?” Pushing his finger inside your molten slick, your clench strongly with a shrill cry, his finger hooking, stroking you firmly, but lamentably only once before he retreats.
“Ahhh, you are greedy this afternoon, little doe.”
“Please, Thor. I’ve begged, I’ve been good. I’m all yours, completely and utterly, all of me is for you and never, ever shall be for anyone else,” you begin, your desperation still amusing to him. “Besides, no one else could ever pleasure me in quite the same way that you do. No one upon this earth possesses such talent.”
It’s the ace up your sleeve you knew would work upon him, appealing to his ego, hearing you flatter his prowess.
“No, you are quite right, they do not. Also, I think I have made you long for me enough. Besides, it isn’t like I haven’t been dying to properly bury my mouth against your womanhood and utterly devour you with my tongue.” Just the promise of it makes you flush, Thor kissing you to complete burning ignition, sliding back down the bed before finally, you feel the heat of his mouth press against your folds.
Your body practically convulses against your rope restraints, his tongue taking a firm swipe over your clit, the tiny little bud bouncing against it as it begins to harden. “So pretty, spread wide, just for me.” Your eyes roll back as he begins to quicken his licks, bathing your bundle in fast moving heat, his large hands gripping your hips firmly.
You are devoured entirely by his insatiable mouth, sucked upon with eager aplomb, his beard prickling your dewy folds as he groans, the noise like chains being dragged over rocks, so deep and carnivorous. That groan could see you to cresting alone, you often think.
When his fingers slip within your gushing, glistening heat, you elevate elegantly, your back arching like a bridge. Fierce heat prickles from his inquisitive fingertips, your body pushing against his hand, Thor having to press your body back down to the bed once more and hold you there, fighting against the luminosity of your arousal. With his strength, it isn’t much of a fight. He pins you beneath the press of one hand with ease.
You’re lit up and keening against him, sparks glimmering through you, your fingers curling around the ropes and gripping hard as your twitch and purl against his hungry mouth, your lover eating your cunt with ravenous intent. His fingers drive into the clutch of your heat, your pillowy insides flexing around them as his tongue continues to lash wildly over your bud, invoking your undoing rapidly.
With a whimper, your sun begins to blaze over his horizon, the warmth making your entire body glow as you shatter against his ministrations, gasping for air, only mildly aware of your bindings being undone, all but one wrist. Lifting your post-orgasmic, trembling body, Thor places you against the last bedpost you’re tied to, moving the rope up as he lifts your arm above your head, binding your other one to it with a series of pretty and intricate knots.
Bracketing your waist with his hands, he lifts you above his thighs, aligning your dewy centre with the thick, aching head of his cock, lowering you to him, groaning with desire as your aqueous velvet swallows him whole.
Your slick muscles hug his hefty shaft with greed, Thor transfixed by the sight of you rolling against him languidly, his breath hitching in his throat preceding the most guttural of groans. In making you wait, he denied himself, of course.
Rocking languidly against one another, your bodies establish a steady rhythm, his lips meeting yours in a kiss borne of urgency. An erotic flush sweeps over you, the intimacy of the moment utterly consuming.
You’re soft and wet around all that is hard, his cock dragging sparks against your walls as his kisses reach your neck, your head tipping back to reveal your throat to him, all nipping teeth and sumptuously placed swirls of his tongue. It’s slow, gratifying, sumptuous sex, no rush upon the horizon, no hurry, just the languid heat shared between you and your hulking god.
The way you move upon him has his luminous eyes utterly transfixed, the serpentine dance of your womanly curves a lustrous feast for his senses, dipping his head to kiss your breasts attentively, sucking on your nipples ravenously as you arch against him. “How are you enjoying it, claiming all is yours?” you whisper, your eyes glittering at him.
“I’m in no rush to cease, let’s put it that way.” You jolt at his teeth clamping onto your nipple, the bud sliding slowly from between them before he bites again, hips beginning to undulate a little quicker beneath you, his cock spearing your plush deeper. Reaching between you, his fingertips locate your clit, stroking a soft, tight circle, feeling it harden against his touch as you whine, Thor evoking nothing short of ecstasy within you.
“Come on, my love. Come apart for me, get my cock even wetter than it is.” Those words dagger to your insides, his fingers relentless as his thrusts speed up, filling and emptying you with determination, heat prickling your spine before the fire roars through you, your body stiffening as you ascend, tipping into divinity, rendered fluid and soft in the wake of your undoing. “I’m sure you have another for me.”
You whimper a little at these words, your sensitivity raked against as he plunges his thickness within you once more, lewd noises filling the air, your cunt utterly saturating his shaft as he pounds into you with deviant ferocity. Once more, you begin to ascend, intense pleasure welling before skittering through you, your voice breaking apart as you cum for him again, Thor’s mouth upon yours in the aftermath, kissing the sweet curses from your lips.
“Do you have more, love?”
“Why don’t you untie me and find out?”
Now, there was a proposition if ever he heard one. He unfastens your bindings and lets you push him back, pulling his legs up behind you as you begin to rock against his steely manhood. Little twinges of pain meeting the pleasure, the knife edge you jockey as you ride him utterly scintillating.
“I think it’s my turn for some reminders now,” you state breathlessly, Thor raising an eyebrow inquiringly.
“How you are the only man I will ever want, that you are everything and beyond to me, my best friend, the greatest lover I have ever known, my absolute everything.”
He smiles at your words, pulling you down to his level and kissing you. “Then I feel it is wise for you to remind me for the remainder of the day. In case I forget again.”
After the night you give him, he isn’t likely to forget in a hurry.
Yourself and Thor had been dating for around two years and he was constantly going between Midgard and Asgard which was starting to impact your relationship as you both felt like you hardly saw one another.
Thor’s brilliant idea was to bring you to Asgard when he next went as he was convinced that the both of you would get married and that he would make you the Queen of Asgard.
“My love I’m needed back home urgently and I believe you agreed to come with me the next time I went.” Thor said with a smile as he knew you wouldn’t break your promise. “Well darling it’s a good thing Stark doesn’t need me this weekend.” You said whilst placing a kiss on your lovers forehead.
The next morning Thor was fast too wake you up so you could get ready for your trip to Asgard. “There’s no reason to pack my lady we’re going to be putting you in the finest Asgardian leather.” He told you as he pulled you into a loving embrace.
Thor summoned the Bifrost and soon enough the both of you were in Asgard which was beautiful. “Thor this is beautiful. How did you get bored growing up here?” You asked the God with genuine curiosity. “It wasn’t that I got bored it was that I was stressed. My father was always training us to become the rulers of Asgard and it quickly began to cause tension between Loki and I. Which you’ll see tonight.” The God told you.
Once the both of you were settled in and wearing the proper attire you headed off for your first Asgardian dinner with Thor’s family.
“So where did you meet my darling brother?” Loki asked with an underlying tone of disgust. “Well, I work for Tony Stark so whenever the Avengers mess up I’m the one who helps to make it right.” You told the dark haired God. Thor placed his hand over you thigh to reassure you that he was with you.
“Son, when do you plan on coming back to Asgard to rule and protect the nine realms?” Odin asked “Well father that’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to ask my lady a question...” The God trailed off making you nervous. “I’ve always told you I planned to make you my Queen. So will you marry me?” He asked with a smile.
Once you said yes and the news spread throughout the Kingdom you found yourself being congratulated everywhere you went.
“One day the two of us will be the rulers of this place my lady and we will protect everyone together.” Thor said with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “We will rule fairly and we will make sure Loki is included in the decisions that are made on behalf of Asgard.” You told your lover as you understood his brother just wanted to be included in the ruling of Asgard.
As you took in your surroundings and the beauty of Asgard you saw a flash of green in the corner of you eyes. Which meant Loki heard your plan to rule together.
It’s safe to say your first trip to Asgard went well and that you were defiantly welcomed.