#still can't believe i wrote that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delkios · 1 year

Text

As I put at the end of the fic, here's the Tie a Knife with a Ribbon Commentary post

I don't think I've ever actually done a commentary thing for a fic before. But I had a lot of thoughts, headcanons and worldbuilding while making this that wouldn't fit as well as some things that I wanted to put in there but couldn't for one reason or another.

I might have one more fic in me for this 'verse but after that, who knows.

After weeks of ambushes, they’d finally managed to turn the tables on the commandos that had been chasing them.

So ever since Scorch's cameo in the first season of The Bad Batch I've had ideas about Delta Squad having to hunt the Batch down, how they'd go about doing it and how well they'd match up. The biggest question, of course, is why is (the remainder of) Delta Squad separated in the first place? I originally thought that maybe they had ulterior motives- mostly using the Empire's resources to get a lead on Sev among other things -and splitting up would make it easier to achieve. Recently I've been leaning a bit more into the idea that the Empire split them up, as well as any of the remaining first gen commandos, essentially holding them hostage in order to ensure they cooperated.

Basically I just want a reason other than 'because loyalty/the chip made them' because that would be boring. But when Scorch was sent to hunt down the Batch none of the crosstrained commandos could keep up with him so he pestered his CO into letting him bring in the other Deltas.

Also, I know everyone wants Vode An to play when Delta Squad shows up but I propose something different: if Delta starts off as antagonists, I say the song that should play is Rage of the Shadow Warriors. Then, after the two groups ally up and the Batch get in over their heads and Delta comes in as the cavalry

THEN Vode An can play.

They knew how to use Clone Force 99’s abilities and knowledge against them... the best way to counteract that would’ve been to stay together.

I know there's at least one video floating around that pits the two teams together but I haven't watched it so I don't know what their conclusion was but this is mine:

Due to the difference (that I headcanon) in their training, I think Delta Squad would have better teamwork and, knowing who they're up against, would be bettered prepared for the fight, especially if they're able to get the Batch into an area they've prepped. Both advantages the Batch could overcome eventually. I think Delta's best bet would be to isolate one of the Batch from the others and find ways to neutralize their abilities. For instance get Hunter in a place that would overwhelm his senses, rendering them useless. For Wrecker, get him in a situation where his instinct is to build an IED and booby trap the materials he'd use. And so on.

Hunter had closed the distance... opting for hand to hand combat rather than ranged.

Knowing Fixer's favorite weapon is the Katarn gauntlet vibroblade, this match up is about half the reason I wrote this fic. The other half is the idea of them bonding over knives.

These commandos weren’t to be taken lightly... how easy it was to lose sight of them even with glowing visors.

I love the commando visors but I have to admit that giving a unit whose job is to infiltrate armor with a distinctive glow seems silly.

...it wasn’t until the commando fell back into an attack stance that Hunter realize he’d stolen the knife right out of Hunter’s hand.

The idea of Fixer (accidentally) stealing Hunter's knife didn't come to me until I started thinking up scenarios for this fic but once it did I knew there was no other way for this fight to go. I like to imagine that when he regroups with the rest of Delta the conversation would go something like: Scorch: Did you steal a knife? Fixer: No... Scorch: What, he just gave you his weapon? Fixer: I didn't steal it intentionally. Scorch: So you're borrowing it? Fixer: (looking the knife over) ...it's a really good knife. Boss: Do I really have to go over the 'don't take other people's things just because you like them' rule with everyone again? Scorch: Yeah. Our thefts are purposeful!

“/Yes. I’m heading his way right now. The commandos seemed to have fallen back./”

Even though I like the idea of Delta Squad hunting down the Batch, in every scenario, Delta isn't doing it with the intent of beating them. They're making a good show of it but always leave the Batch at least one out and so long as the Batch keeps finding those outs or make their own, Delta won't bring them in. Either because having the Batch running wild figures into their own plans or because they're failing out of spite.

None of them were exactly happy with the situation. Certainly they were glad for the return of their missing teammates...

The very first scenarios I thought up way back in season one all had to do with Delta Squad giving the Batch an ultimatum: Delta would pass along all the information they had on leads to Sev to the Batch (some scenarios included Rex) and once Sev was found, either alive or dead so long as there was proof, they'd bust out Crosshair (and, in the Rex scenarios, Cody).

They'd been in high demand ... Only a fraction of the original generation of commandos survived and the three remaining Deltas were among them.

In the Legends books the commando's numbers were cut nearly in half in the first battle of Geonosis due to mishandling by the Jedi: being thrown into the battlefield instead of what they were actually trained for, infiltration and sabotage. After, some clone troopers were picked to crosstrain as commandos.

Given the kind of time crunch there must have been to try to fill out the commando ranks, I find it doubtful the crosstrained ones were as good as the first gen commandos. Not a diss, just pointing out the difference in what was likely a few months of additional training verses several years worth. Crosstrained ARCs likely weren't as good as first gen ARCs, either. For the record, I consider Gregor to be crosstrained as a commando as, in Legends, commandos were given RC prefixes while Gregor is a CC which has already been used by other non-commandos.

Also, fun game to play: how many missions in Clone Wars would've gone better if they'd used commandos?

Hunter didn’t know how it went down behind the scenes but it didn’t feel right leaving without thanking Rex for his part in this.

I thought about going into detail about how Rex brokered this deal but then decided I didn't actually want to figure all that out.

Chiding himself for the foolish thought, Hunter took it and slide his knife back in its sheath.

Look, let's just pretend that Tech isn't the only one that actually has gear and weapons as part of their model and everyone else pulls their stuff out of nowhere.

As much as he hated to admit it, Delta Squad was trying to survive this mess as best they could... he couldn't blame them anymore than he did Crosshair.

Look, I understand why the inhibitor chip had to exist but I think it's ridiculous that people push it as the reason clones worked for the Empire. They're slaves that were created and taught only one thing: to wage war. The Republic didn't look out for them. In Legends they originally weren't even paid for the work they did. They weren't seen as people, they were considered property and the civilians certainly didn't think much of them and many probably thought they were basically droids themselves. Clones would've had no where to go, no money with which to leave and most of them wouldn't have employable skills to fall back on. That uncertainty versus something they know they can do and know they'll at least have food and shelter, it's no wonder they'd stay with the Empire, even if it meant doing things they didn't like. They were essentially raised to be as dependent on the Republic (and Empire) as the Republic was made dependent on them.

“If anyone could survive this long, it would be Sev.”

For a while I've considered Sev not surviving. But then, after a few years away from the fandom, I decided I preferred him being alive. It helped that the game devs were considering a sequel in which he did survive and fell in with the fledgling rebellion before it was canceled.

And, even with Scorch potentially about to be an important character in the Batch, there isn't a guarantee that particular cliffhanger will be addressed (for the third time) so I'll do what I want.

“Some of our training sergeants set up a place for commandos to retire to, but…”

In Legends, some of the commando's training sergeants- a hundred people, mostly Mandalorian, hand picked by Jango called the Cuy'val Dar -set up a colony for clones (mostly their commandos but also any other clones than found them) at Kyrimorut on Mandalor. Delta's trainer, Walon Vau, was among those that helped set it up. They also researched how to stop the clones' advanced aging.

Even in their isolated corner of Tipoca City, they’d heard horror stories about what the commando trainers put their men through.

From a young age commandos were trained in live-fire exercises (meaning using actual ammunition and not simulation rounds), interrogation resistance (i.e. torture), etc. Fatalities sometimes occurred during training and Vau was considered one of the more brutal trainers. He treated his commandos as soldiers from the beginning and was determined to push them to be the best of the best even if he had to thrash them to do it. If memory serves, he was the only on that didn't lose any commandos on Geonosis.

When Hunter inspected his knife... he found it had been newly sharpened, the blade cleaned and oiled until it gleamed.

Fixer, 1000%, always intended to give Hunter's knife back even if it took years to do so. He always kept it on him, never used it and did his best to ensure it was in the best condition possible. Boss and Scorch might've thought he was being ridiculous but when Fixer commits ain't nothing swaying him.

“He seemed confident you’d get out of whatever trouble you might’ve got into on your own.” Boss had also sounded a little hesitant, like he was forcing himself to believe that...

I imagine, after losing Sev and the rift it caused and getting split up on top of that, Boss got overprotective when they were all back together again. He'd always been a little overprotective though that was mainly in things like taking responsibility for the squad and chaffing whenever control of them was taken out of his hands (Boss has control issues, fight me). But he'd always had faith that his squad could handle anything thrown at them. So having him be suddenly overprotective about everything grated with the others, especially in the beginning and Boss had to relearn how to let them out of his sight all over again.

“You’ll have to get them out of my pack, then. They should be in the left side, grab two just in case.”

How do these packs work? Are there divided sections like a backpack? How do they attach? What do they do? Why won't the game devs return my calls? I need answers, people!

Stealth had always been one of Hunter’s strengths, his enhanced senses locating any nearby guards before he was ever in danger of being spotted.

Man, how I wish the show actually utilized Hunter's enhanced senses in a consistent manner.

Hunter abruptly realized that this was the first time he’d seen Fixer- or any Delta -without a helmet

I haven't really put all that much thought into how much older I think Delta Squad is verses the 99, anywhere between two to four years old. Which would, biologically, make them about four to eight years older but I imagine Delta looks older than they are due to how hard they've been worked and the stress of their missions. They probably wouldn't look as old if they got a healthy amount of sleep on a consistent basis. Someone get these boys a vacation.

...new blood on his lip partially covering up an old scar and a long healed notch at the rim of his right ear, like something sharp had taken a slice out of it.

The scar and notch he got during training: Fixer has a tendency of biting his lip when he's stressed and, during interrogation training when one of his squad mates was being tortured next to him in order to get Fixer to break, he damn near bit through his lip to keep quiet. The notch he got while fighting another commando during knife training. They took a slice of his ear, he sent them to the infirmary. Vau was both mildly irritated and grudgingly impressed that Fixer made no move to deal with the injury until Vau told him to.

Also Fixer's nose had been broken when Scorch punched him in a fit of anger after they were sent away from Kashyyk without getting the chance to look for Sev. Fixer didn't bother getting it set properly, he claims because it didn't affect his performance but it was also due to guilt.

“People don’t usually notice me.” Fixer eventually said.

This is totally not me calling out fandom (and the books) for the tendency of pushing Fixer into the background at best or completely ignoring him at worst. It's fine that he's not people's favorite- he isn't my favorite, either -but he's not just a bland stick in the mud. I don't know why people think he would be when he's had to deal with Scorch and Sev every day for his entire life and was part of one of Vau's best squads. Fixer is just as ruthless and capable of getting into just as much trouble, he just hides it better.

That got him that soft almost-laugh again

I imagine Fixer's most common laugh is more of a huff that could easily be passed off as a sigh. It's a defense mechanism because Scorch knows Sev and Boss find him funnier than they let on and if Scorch knew Fixer did too, he would become insufferable.

(Spoiler: Scorch knows but is trying to get Fixer to admit it first)

The shield in the first gen commandos’ armor was good for dissipating the kinetic force from energy bolts but a powerful enough electric blast could shred right through it.

I know it didn't show up in the episode but I imagine the shield is why Scorch was able to tank so many stun bolts before going down. In the game there's no real pattern with the types of weapons that can shred through the shields- Geonosian beam weapons, scav droids' lightning, Trandoshian mini gun -and they don't come up in the books. My take is that they're like a weaker version of a droideka's shield. They're mostly made to hold up against blaster bolts while the armor itself deals with physical attacks. A strong electric current can overload that shields and while their blacks insulate them from weaker surges, EMP grenades or a shock stick can still leave them vulnerable to follow up attacks.

Despite their usefulness they weren't put in later iterations of the Katarn armor, probably because they weren't expecting to replace as many commandos as they had to after Geonosis and couldn't manufacture enough shields to keep up.

Hunter didn’t know when or why they’d stopped being integrated into the Katarn armor...

I haven't figured out a reason for that, though. Or why they don't show up anywhere outside of games.

...he realized very suddenly that he practically had his fingers intertwined with the commando’s.

I'll admit, that's for me. Give me all the hand holding and fingers tangling together.

“It won’t take long and it just needs some common supplies... it’d be easy for you to install once you find a compatible one.”

Even though Fixer is explicitly stated to be a tech aficionado, between it making sense that commandos would be able to maintain their armor themselves in case of damage or malfunction while in the field and Fixer's preference for the gauntlet blade, I don't doubt he'd be able to take apart and reassemble it. Whether the mechanism is easy to build from scratch, I have no idea.

Fixer finally seemed to get annoyed... “If you don’t want it-”

When Fixer offers you something, take it. He's absolutely not the type that will put up with hemming and hawing or play the polite back-and-forth game.

He was fairly ambidextrous with both pistols and knives so he supposed it didn’t really matter. “Left.”

I don't recall if he tended to use a knife in a particular hand and didn't feel like combing through episodes to find out. So ambidextrous he is.

Tech hated people touching his armor- his helmet, especially -without his permission. Fixer must be the same way.

I don't think it'd be common for clones to swap their helmets around and I'd bet some are very particular about others putting their helmet on. Fixer is definitely going to give his helmet a thorough cleaning. Also I'd bet he's done unauthorized modifications to his helmet, another reason he doesn't want people getting too close a look at it.

Sev had been trying very hard to pass off any responsibilities he’d been given during the forming of the rebellion to Boss who repeatedly declined.

I'm a firm believer that half the reason Sev stayed with the rebellion is because he was so offended by their lack of tactics and by the time he'd realized he'd become a trainer it was far too late for him to back out. When he reunited with his brothers, they all agreed that Sev called the shots for the squad which is why they also joined the rebellion. The one exception to that is Boss refusing to take over Sev's position both as a trainer and part of the rebellion's hierarchy. Partly because Boss was amused that Sev got himself in this position despite how much he complains about it and also because he's really come into his own in that time. In the field, they still fall into the habit of Boss taking the lead (and Fixer his second) unless other circumstances requires Sev doing so.

The commandos’ attitudes had changed drastically since reuniting with their lost brother.

I feel like it shouldn't need to be said that Delta's bond was irrevocably damaged after they left Sev behind. Reuniting with him helped to heal the rift but it'll never be the same way it used to be. Ironically I think Sev was the one least affected. Were he in the same position, he couldn't say what he'd do so while there is some resentment due to what he'd suffered in his time alone, he doesn't blame them for following orders like they were trained to. It probably helped that he was so shocked at how that decision hurt his brothers that, even if he didn't realize it, he was quick to forgive them.

“Because he’s used to doing things his way, he hates the idea of someone else coming along and taking over,” Crosshair once observed before turning a lazy, sideways look to Hunter, “just like you.”

Again, Boss has control issues. He's perfectly deferential when dealing with someone that outranks him, it was usually because when out on missions there was very little oversight and Boss still made most of the decisions. He tends to be more abrasive, competitive and arrogant when dealing with peers, subconsciously seeing them as a threat to his position. In Legends he nearly came to blows with another commando sergeant in part due to his attitude.

I'd imagine Hunter is much the same, especially with the tenuous position the 99 would've been in. The Kaminoans made them as an experiment but they also had no qualms with reconditioning or decommissioning clones that weren't up to their standards so Hunter would've had to simultaneously push his brothers while protecting them. It's no wonder he doesn't trust others to have his team's back.

Childhood trauma is a bitch.

Maybe it was the way Fixer seemed to prefer to fade into the background, letting his more gregarious brothers draw all the attention... Hunter couldn’t help taking great pleasure in bringing Fixer to the forefront whenever possible...

It's probably because Fixer's armor is my favorite but I tend to think he has an understated vanity, not just in terms of looks but also in his skills. He doesn't need people to acknowledge it, he already knows he's good at what he doese. That doesn't mean he won't flaunt it on occasion. In terms of teamwork, Boss and Scorch tend to draw attention while Fixer and Sev hit where the enemy isn't expecting them and, when something needs to be sliced in the heat of battle, that's usually Fixer's job so he tries not to draw attention. Staying in the background is kind of his thing, so having someone consistently noticing him, going out of their way to acknowledge him is something he isn't used to dealing with. He's very much an introvert.

Hunter could feel Fixer watching him afterward, as if Hunter was a great mystery he hadn’t been able to puzzle out.

When this first started happening, Fixer was just confused but he'd respond promptly. As he started getting more flummoxed with Hunter's behavior, he'd take longer to respond, trying to figure out what was happening. That would be the point that Scorch and Boss, who had found it hilarious in the beginning, would start redirecting attention to themselves and Fixer would stew over the interaction for sometimes days. It got him out of his comfort zone, forced him to figure out things like what about it made him uncomfortable, if he actually was uncomfortable or just not used to it, if he didn't mind the attention, if he was okay with Hunter closing that distance, and so on. Once he got all those questions sorted, Fixer began replying promptly again though not as clipped and impersonally as before. When he realized he actually looked forward to those interactions, his replies- though still always professional -were warmer and he relaxed enough to throw in a dry joke or tease in there occasionally. His brothers definitely noticed this but were so caught off guard they never brought it up with each other.

In any case, whenever a mission required them splitting into two groups, Boss always lead one and Hunter the other... they were joined by Crosshair, Scorch and Omega...

This is actually based off an old scenario I had long ago using almost the exact same teams though back then it was Echo instead of Crosshair with Tech on the other team. I thought it would be fun to mix up the two groups because I wanted to imagine how Boss and Hunter specifically dealt with the other squad's eccentricities and how well their leadership styles would allow them to work around those difficulties. But I had no idea why they were working together, what they were doing or who they were dealing with so it never got further than a vague idea. But it was where I first got the idea of Hunter throwing his knife for Fixer to use and the first time I considered the two could possibly get along.

Fixer grabbed the hilt, ripping the blade through the side of the neck. From there the commando was a whirl of movement and Hunter was transfixed.

Is this maybe me projecting onto Hunter? Maybe. Action scenes full of flashy attacks requiring lots of space to do large movements like flips and spins are all well and good but I prefer my action sequences to be full of quick, sharp movements. Where attacks are meant to either be lethal or create an opening for a lethal follow-up attack. I think there can be beauty in brutality and that needs to be embraced more in media.

“It’s a quality knife,” Fixer said. “Good weight, well balanced.” ... His voice dropped, turning something dark and silky...

This was a bit of an odd scenario because I'd had it in mind since I first imagined Fixer using Hunter's knife and it kind of went back and forth between how flirty it would be. I'd probably say this scene was what made me go from "Oh, Hunter and Fixer connecting over knives, how fun," to "What about exploring how their relationship changes using knives as a mirror". So, really, I blame all of this on this one scene.

“You are not flirting right now,” Scorch cut in. “Stop it. Sev’ll never believe me.”

That is, honestly, how I kind of feel about this entire relationship. In all my headcanons Fixer was the most insular one in the group. He was always the one most resistant to socializing outside of the squad and had the hardest time wrapping his head around why his squadmates might want romantic relationships, struggling to understand what was lacking in their fraternal one. Of all the Deltas, Fixer was the one I never saw getting into a relationship, either long term or casual. So, when this idea hit, I kind of had to sit with it, puzzle it out. Figure out how Fixer would react to it: the things that would get his attention, the things that made him want to be intimate, the things he wouldn't like, etc. It was enlightening.

I figured, as far as physical intimacy is concerned, that Fixer is more on the asexual end of the scale. He doesn't care much for sex mainly because he's repulsed by all the mess and stickiness involved. He's not above masturbation, he has an interest in toys and things like gloves, condoms, whatever will keep fluids from getting everywhere is appreciated. But, if he's in the right mood- and that seems to be following a good sparring session -he could be more receptive to something hot and sloppy.

The four of them reminded Hunter more of Fennec Shand than they did a reg, moving more with a hunter’s glide than they did a trooper’s march.

I think about clones a lot. I'll be honest, I'm not sure how much I'd care about Star Wars were it not for them. I liked the original trilogy alright but the rest is.... eh. But I have so many thoughts about clones, clone culture and the ways they differentiate themselves. To an average person there'd be very little difference between commandos and troopers. To clones, who developed the ability to easily spot differences between each other, commandos and troopers are nothing alike. The way a small group who grew up trained by a mercenary would move and act would naturally be different from a massive group who grew up trained for large-scale military maneuvers. I wish the media we're given would focus on that kind of minutia more because I don't want to be the only one that spends their time thinking about these sorts of things.

He composed himself as he’d been taught, putting on an air of confidence he absolutely did not feel and approached Fixer, pulling his knife- sheath and all -from his belt. “Here. Keep it.”

When I decided that this relationship was going to be romantic, this was obviously going to be the next step. Knives are a love language. There are few gifts more romantic than knives. And I'm not just talking about me. For a group that deals with practical and life-threatening situations regularly, one giving another a weapon they very clearly cherish is probably THE most courting gift possible.

...he said with a wink and much more bravado than his nerves were currently capable of.

One of the secrets I learned while in the military: it doesn't matter what you say, just say it with conviction. Even when asked questions during an inspection, even if you know your answer is obviously wrong, say it with your whole chest.

Fake it 'till you make it, baby.

Fixer just stared at him, looking dumbfounded and if it weren’t for the subtle shift in his scent or the rise of color in his cheeks, Hunter would’ve thought he’d made a fool of himself.

The moment Fixer realized his feelings shifted from "I'm curious as to where this goes" to "...oh".

Boss shook his head before following- Hunter could’ve sworn he chuckled as he did so...

I debated on how I'd write Boss's reaction because while he's mildly annoyed by it, it's only because it's Hunter but, 1) Boss is aware enough to realize there's not actually anything wrong with Hunter, and 2) Fixer having an interest in someone is such a surprise occurrence that he's not going to ruin Fixer's happiness by what Boss recognizes as a him-problem.

And then I was amused to because Boss is on the other end of that same situation in regards to my preferred ship for him.

Days later Omega was happily updating Tech on what they’d been up to on their weekly check-in call

I debated about being vague about Tech surviving and leaving that up for the readers to decide but what the hell. Not like this is going to be canon compliant once the next season drops in any case. So he's alive and still very much a part of the crew despite essentially being forced to retire due to injuries.

As far as canon goes, personally I don’t believe he’s dead. We watched Gregor and Echo get blown up and they inexplicably survived, Ashoka literally died fighting Vader and was saved via space-time portal. Even if he doesn't show up next season Ashoka was brought back after being missing for a season and the other two came back after even longer. If this were Clone Wars I might feel differently but it’s not like Bad Batch has issue showing dead bodies on screen so. We’ll see, I guess.

As far as Tech's state goes, he was obviously badly injured in the fall, broken bones, punctured organs, severe brain damage. Hemlock's forces found him fast enough to stabilize him- though I imagine there were periods in which he was technically dead before they managed it -and gave him enough bacta treatments to heal the worst of his brain damage but left his body badly broken. By the time he'd been rescued his body's natural healing caused a lot of that damage to become permanent, even if he was willing to get surgery (he wasn't because of the time and money that would take, finding a reputable hospital capable of doing all that surgery would mean a higher risk of the Empire finding him and, even if he got the surgery, he wouldn't be able to keep up with the Batch and would be sitting out missions anyway). I haven't thought what the exact nature of his injuries may be but it would be some amount of paralysis, chronic pain and some permanent side effects from traumatic brain injury. At least.

“He knows how to handle my knife.”

I struggled with finding a response that I liked until I decided "What would be the most innuendo" and finally liked what I wrote.

Tech’s voice was far too amused, “/I’m sure he does./”

Did Tech, despite not being there to witness it himself, deduce just from talking to the others that Hunter had a crush on Fixer before anyone else? Absolutely. Well, Phee probably figured it out first because she's very emotionally intelligent, but Tech can catch patterns quicker than most anyone.

Echo’s digestion was permanently karked from his time as a Separatists prisoner.

I firmly believe Echo has to deal with chronic pain and internal issues. I don't know if this is common in the BB fandom as I haven't done any real delving into it but I kind of hope so. The details canon doesn't give to me, I can only hope that fandom picks up the slack.

“Hey, we came bearing gifts for our poor, malnourished vode!”

I had wanted to put in a scene somewhat early on where it was discovered that the Batch don't know Mando'a. In my head, they were trained after all the Mandalorian trainers left and they didn't spend enough time with any one company to pick it up from them and Nala Se certainly wouldn't have bothered teaching Omega any Mandalorian culture. Upon learning this, Echo would've been abashed. He'd assumed, because the 99 were a later addition, that they'd refused their Mandalorian heritage like many clones did near the end of the war. He hadn't realized it was because they were never given the choice and was determined to teach them everything he knew.

Whenever he or Fixer shifted or anything happened to make him aware of Fixer’s leg against his- and he was incredibly aware of it -Hunter seemed to forget that anything else existed.

I don't know if it would be considered in character for Hunter to be this flustered but, in my defense, nothing like this occurs in canon so you can't say he absolutely wouldn't. Besides, between this probably being his first (serious) infatuation, being in close proximity with the person he's infatuated with who he doesn't really get to be with all that often and senses that can zero in on the tiniest thing, I feel justified in saying he wouldn't be able to help hyperfocusing on Fixer.

This, meanwhile, is quite a bold move on Fixer's part as he's neither a big toucher, sometimes even where his brothers are concerned, and is the least likely to socialize with non-Deltas, let alone share his space with them.

The 99’s trainers were only there for training, outside of that they only dealt with the Kaminoam scientists... and, on occasion, Shaak Ti.

This is probably going to be a hot take but I don't consider the Batch to be commandos (obviously not Echo, who's an ARC and Omega, who was meant to be a non-combatant). I certainly believe the 99 have some amount of commando training but, given they were specifically created with genetic mutations in mind, their training would most likely focus on developing and exploring those limits more than anything else. In fact, in an alternate universe where Delta and the Batch are more teeth-clenched allies, Fixer disparages the fact their commando training was a secondary concern at best.

Of course the knowledge that the Kaminoans made the 99 the way they are is hilarious when held up to Legends in which the Kaminoans' first attempts at fulfilling Jango's request for special forces clones resulted in the Null Class ARCs that were deemed too willful and unpredictable and were slated to be decommissioned if not for the intervention of one of the commando trainers. The succeeding ARCs were less independent but made to Jango's specifications while the commandos were created to the Kaminoans' specifications and were made more obedient than the ARCs.

And then with the 99 it's like coming full circle.

Hunter kind of liked the flash of warmth he felt whenever he became aware of the empty space on his belt and knowing Fixer held the missing piece.

This part was one of the first sections written and in the back of my head I kept going "oh god why is this so cute".

“One of the commando training sergeants had one like that...”

This is a reference to Kal Skirata, one of the main POV characters in the Republic Commando novels who was the trainer Delta Squad probably had most contact with outside of Vau. It was often mentioned that Skirata favored a three-bladed knife that he inherited from his father and while I don't think it was ever brought up in the books, I'd imagine someone that could appreciate a fine knife like Fixer would find that style of blade intriguing.

“This must’ve cost you a fortune!”

I don't know if this was ever addressed in the new canon but in Legends there were zero systems in place for the Republic to offer any support or compensation when they suddenly found themselves in possession of a clone army. And it didn't improve that much over the course of the war given the absence of any kind of retirement benefits and that clones who were too injured to fight would sometimes be euthanized in order to free up resources.

Vau was born into a rich, influential family before he was disowned and became a Mandalorian. At one point, enlisting Delta Squad's help to get him inside, Vau staged a bank robbery to take what he felt his inheritance from his birth family and to cover his tracks, stole millions from the vault. Everything, save for his inheritance, he put toward gene therapy research to slow the clone's aging. For all his brutality and cruelty- and one could argue he was perpetuating the cycle of child abuse he went through but I argue absolutely everyone that had anything to do with clones committed child abuse even if they tried to be nice about it -Vau cares for the clones and his men and was not happy with the Republic's lack of care for them. Therefore I believe he split his inheritance among his surviving commandos, giving them the means to be independent from the Empire and even from himself if they wanted. And, since Delta likely wouldn't have much need for the finer things in life, with some shrewd investing they probably don't worry much about money.

Looking back at Fixer’s face, Hunter could see a tightness in his brow and the corner of his lips, something shuttering behind his eyes like he was preparing to be hurt.

If you guessed that Fixer believed he was being rejected and Hunter nearly inadvertently broke his heart, congratulations on leasing a spot in my head. Rent is $5 a month or talking to me about clones.

...he saw Fixer’s helmet tilt and Hunter desperately wanted to know what that meant, if he was smiling underneath it.

In all my time in various fandoms I've come to realize there's something I enjoy about faceless or near-faceless characters and how they- and, subsequently, the people writing/drawing/depicting them -need to move or stand or gesture to get their feelings across. How does the angle of the head change how the audience reads their emotions, what's the difference in movement between a hand gesturing with emphasis versus gesturing with apathy. Seeing the character's romantic interest noticing those differences, learning the subtleties been their moods and how they hold themselves makes it even better.

...long enough to stop Wrecker from trying to sneak a pack of ryshcate into a purchase...

Hunter pays attention when it counts. Mostly.

Stealing shuttles seemed to be a habit of theirs.

Okay, I think that only happened once in the books but I enjoy the idea that Delta doesn't need their own dedicated shuttle, they'll just steal it from whatever asshole is in their area.

They said they knew some people that would strip the shuttle of anything trackable...

This is another reference to the clone colony at Kyrimorut. Assuming I'm remembering correctly and not attributing this to some fic I read, they started amassing a collection of different ships, some imperial ones to help with infiltration and information gathering. I like the idea of Delta passing some of their more useful, ill-gotten shuttles off to the Nulls to make use of.

Unfortunately for them the vessel they chose to sack happened to have Delta Squad on it... then took over their ship for good measure.

One of my favorite things is having some fools busting in some place, talking a big game and making demands, only to find themselves thoroughly outclassed by someone who was there merely by chance. And then the person in question taking the fools' stuff because they started it so why not?

As the knife felt more and more like an extension of his arm, Hunter began to move faster, the rounds getting longer until they were nearly dueling.

As opposed to the ruthless efficiency of the earlier fights, this I picture more like the sword fights from old movies like The Princess Bride or Errol Flynn/Basil Rathbone duels. Testing each other's guard, not aiming to hurt but willing to take the opening if it presents itself. It's about finding each other's rhythm and matching it, like a song, like a dance, like a heartbeat. Even though Hunter could see beauty in Fixer's brutality, the beauty in this is how in sync they are.

(oh my god they're drift compatible)

...just wanted to stay in that patch of the docking bay with Fixer in front of him and all the people he cared about around him.

These boys been through a lot, they all need hugs and drinks and a therapist.

“Sooooo?” Omega drawled out before Hunter even acknowledged her. “When are you going to tell him you like him?"

Omega had been lightly grilling Fixer every time they've met because she's been on board this ship for months. He's nice, patient, has an answer for nearly any question she's had, he's a little awkward at socializing but he doesn't treat her like a child (which is probably because he's never been around a child before). So while nearly everyone else is willing to spoil Omega with things like sweets or gifts, Fixer is the one that will let her do to more adult things like explaining to her how different firearms work and being able to tell when an explosive device has been armed. No shying away from the grislier side of what they do just because she's young. She's old enough that if she wants to know, she should know. Also he seems just as invested in Hunter's well being as she is and Hunter is always happier when they see each other. If Hunter hadn't decided to make a move, she was about ready to make one for them.

Because there wasn’t much else to do when flying through hyperspace for hours on end. He and Crosshair would bitch at each other over the characters’ idiocy afterward.

Though Crosshair was able to get back on good terms with the others and Hunter was understanding of his reasons, they had a difficult time trying to get back on an even keel with each other. Complaining about those soap operas helped them to bond again and they'll deny it to the heat death of the universe but they've gotten invested in the story. Echo may or may not have been the one to encourage those discussions between them.

“Guess we’ll swing by Pabu when we get some free time.”

I really like the idea that Pabu and the people there being a sort of sanctuary for the Batch. A place to go when they need to lay low or take a break and people who are willing to explain things natborns consider second nature but was considered unnecessary for clones without judging them for it. And that's before they settled Tech there, knowing he'd have a place to recuperate as best he can with people that will give him the best possible care.

He wasn’t sure any clone did though whether that was genetic or a result of their upbringing was unclear.

Clones have a very distinct love language that a lot of other people would just pass off as them being nice. No, my dudes. When a clone shares their food, that means something. If they allow you to take care of their gear, it means they trust you with their lives. Should they give you one of their very few possessions, you're basically part of their family. And being gifted a neigh indestructible weapon is all but a proposal.

“Just do stuff for him. Take care of him.”

The unfortunate part about being aware of the differences between clone culture and natborn culture (among many things) is the subconscious worry that the way clones do things is the 'wrong' way. Clones weren't taught to be paternal, therefore they don't know how to properly care for children. Clones were never taught to be romantic, therefore their ways of showing affection that's more than platonic isn't good enough. All clones need non-clone friends to explain there is never just one proper way to do things.

...friends that aren't Jedi because by the end of the Order they were kinda yikes.

When they reached out to Sev, he grumbled and made a show of being far too busy to deal with them before transmitting a passcode to land.

Sev tries so hard to keep up a persona of being too hardcore and angry to be nice these days. Only the newbies fall for it, everyone else goes along with it just to make him happy.

“You kidding? We were about to start making bets on you two!”

I assure you that bets had already been placed but if Hunter knew that then he'd want to know how long that had been going for and would probably be mortified at the answer. Wrecker is just being a good brother by lying and making sure payments are dolled out when Hunter isn't around.

“We’ve taken to using voice changers to make it easier for the natborn to differentiate between us.”

I know why and fully expected Delta Squad to be given the same voice as everyone else but I still write them with their original voices in my head. So any scenario in which I can give them voice changers so they'll have those voices, I'm doing it.

“They can make their own excuses... I don’t know the reason behind every time they get weird.”

Boss says a very similar thing whenever his squad gets into trouble because he just needed to take a goddamn nap.

...but with the blaster holstered on one side and knife on the other, he was still framed quite nicely.

Tangentially: I never really cared for Bo-Katan as a character but in The Mandalorian, her dual pistols and the nice little box they make? Wow.

...the town was built on a combination of rock and giant mangrove roots which essentially divided the town into two levels... here the trees had been dug into and, in some cases, straight through.

I originally had zero intention of describing this outpost but this 'mini date' section, as I think of it, was the second to last thing I had to write and realizing I had to have them moving through a space in order to get the moments that I wanted out of it, I ended up making a sort loose amalgamation of two video game locations: The Grove from Guild Wars 2 and Torigoth from Xenoblade Chronicles 2, specifically the area with the suspended bridges.

“It’s a wedding boat.”

Originally it was just going to be a fishing vessel making a lot of noise as they brought up a huge haul but that seemed too mundane, too uninspired. I'd recently watched a documentary that featured ethnic groups in the Philippines and some of the nomadic people's transition to a stationary lifestyle. They spotlighted a wedding and one of the traditions was the bridal party traveling on a boat in a similar manner. This wasn't meant to be a 'nudgenudge you boys getting any ideas nudge' kind of thing, it's just that that portion of the documentary really stuck in my mind.

“You’ll have to show me that some time.” Fixer’s hand squeezed his. “Of course.”

Fixer took him out that night, after Hunter finished making dinner and they ate under the stars with the crashing waves glowing blue and soft green and orange lights around them because this was a date and Hunter deserved better than to spend it in a cramped, ramshackled room filled with random junk.

Hunter began to tense from the overwhelming sounds and smells...

Again, don't know how fandom does it, but I imagine Hunter tends to suffer from migraines, especially in places with lots of strong smells and constant loud, overlapping noises. He can- and has -suffered through it for the sake of missions or to get tasks done but it sucks and he tries to avoid crowds when he can. If he can't, he'll wear his helmet if possible so he can shut off necessary filters if it starts to get too much.

“It’s more for my peace of mind- our peace of mind.”

Fixer may treat Omega most like an adult but that doesn't stop his instincts from pinging whenever he sees her. He can't stop thinking about things like "You need more weapons than just an energy bow" and "Why do you have a helmet but no chest plate, torso shots are more common than head shots". But, as someone who is 1) not part of her family, and 2) has not been part of any discussions regarding what kind of protection she has, and 3) knows the Batch are the most invested in her safety so they'd already cover that sort of stuff, he knows it's not his place to get into that. But he'll make her that knife because, c'mon, whose gonna turn down a concealed blade?

And to find whoever made Fixer doubt his capacity for kindness and beat them to within an inch of their life.

It's not so much that Delta Squad are surprised that they're able to be kind as it is they're surprised that they'll extend that kindness to others without thinking about it. Vau was a very pragmatic and blunt trainer. He made sure, given the things commandos were expected to do, that his trainees understood that, behind enemy lines, they'll only be able to depend on themselves and if anything were to happen to them, no one would help them, the only ones that would ever look out for them are each other. Even if he didn't say it outright, he implied that offering a kindness to people that wouldn't offer it back was nothing but wasted energy. So whenever they realize they're doing so- especially when people show appreciate or give kindness back -it kinda shorts out their brains a little. They'll get used to it, though. Eventually.

“In case someone needs some space.”

That's a bit of a deflection as much as it is an answer. As stated before, leaving Sev behind caused a rift and things were said and done that Sev's return wouldn't be able to heal over. It was worst between Scorch and Fixer and, even still, if both happen to be having bad days at the same time, neither wants to look at the other be it out of resentment or guilt. Boss did his best to keep the three of them together and maybe his responsibilities now aren't as numerous or stressful or demanding but some times he just needs to get away from everyone and recenter himself. Often when there are bad days, Sev gets the brunt of it because his brothers need reassurance that he's there, that he doesn't hate them and he tries to be as patient and understanding as they need but if he couldn't get away from their smothering he would explode at them. And then there are times when they just don't want to be cuddled because it's too hot or they're feeling restless or maybe someone is too gassy and needs to be exiled from the pile.

“Didn’t realize I missed being able to pile up with my brothers until I saw that.”

Poor Omega never got to be part of a cuddle puddle. Once Hunter realizes that, he'll rectify that the next time they're on Pabu. There will be tons of cushioning for Tech and Crosshair may be skittish at the start but Hunter and Wrecker and Echo will show her how it's done and afterward Omega will demand they make it mandatory every so often.

There was a long stretch of silence and then Fixer asked uncertainly, “Is this a date?”

The thought occurred to him after everyone else made themselves scarce. It just took him this long to get the courage to ask.

“I’d like to, if you don’t mind. I like watching you handle a knife.”

And, of course, it all comes back to knives.

#republic commando #bad batch #fic #fic meta #still can't believe i wrote that #and am impressed that some people actually read it and liked it enough to tell me

8 notes · View notes

strawberrypinky · 10 months

Text

all your loving (all or nothing) pt. 2 - a. sharp x reader

for the longest time, aesop sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. but as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him.

or: aesop sharp is an idiot in love with a breeding kink and this escalated in ways i can never speak of – part two baby!

A/N: Part Two of what was supposed to be a single, short and smutty one shot of my recent fictional obsession: Professor Sharp. Part two is where the breeding kink 'finally' hits – apologies in advance. I haven't written smut in quite a while and I shockingly have never published any before. The depravity was strong with this one and I sincerely hope my mother never finds this. I may be in my twenties but she'd still ship me off to a convent if she did.

Please remember that this takes place during Victorian Times – Women were not nearly as educated as we are today on Sex and Pleasure. MC is a virgin – so she might come off as slightly naive/dumb at times. It's all consensual tho, don't worry.

Thank you again to @legacygirlingreen for enabling me & being my number one supporter on the road to hell. I couldn't have done this without you (seriously, you were a saint) 🤪💚 This one is for you 💚

To everyone reading this; I have never written 'x Reader' before, so please give me some grace for trying 🙏🏻 This was a first. Part Two is the 'final' (as if this wasn't supposed to be a one shot either way lol) - however if someone enables me enough, part three is always a possibility. That said; please don't enable me 💀

Onwards now; I have promised @fizzlewick a Regency/Pride and Prejudice AU! with our favourite Potions Professor as Mr. Darcy.

FYI: (Y/N) - Your Name (Y/L/N) - Your Last Name (Y/E/C) - Your Eye Colour (Y/H/C) - Your Hair Colour

CW (here we go): Fluff, Romance, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Pining, Age Difference (Aged up Main Character), Canon Divergence (bc I can't stand to kill Fig off), Spoiler Alert for Hogwarts Legacy, Implied Hufflepuff MC (not specified), Porn with Plot, Victorian attitudes towards Sex, Smut (18+, MDNI - lord, forgive me): Loss of Virginity, Breeding Kink, Impregnation, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral Sex (fem receiving), Cockwarming, Accidental Virginity Kink

Word Count (Part 2): 15.5k (again - this escalated)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48482581/chapters/123361243

Part One: Click here

For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible even for someone like him.

She loved him.

She. Loved. HIM.

It was a mantra that he found himself repeating over and over again, never quite believing that this wasn't some sick and twisted dream he would wake up from. But it wasn't a dream, and the extraordinary woman he had fallen in love with, had fallen for him too. He fell asleep with her in his arms every night since that night, his room practically vacant, only for him to return to in the early morning to get dressed and prepare himself for the day ahead, and each morning he fell in love all over again – her face aglow in the morning light. It was bliss. Pure and delicious bliss.

They had kept their newfound romance largely private, restricted to lingering touches when nobody could see and the small reprieve her hut could offer, though Aesop suspected that their colleagues knew. At the very least, they presumed their dynamic had shifted, even if they did not know to which extent. His love hadn't even told Eleazar, which surprised Aesop, given that the man truly was like a father to her (and a much better one at that, too), but it made their love all the more sacred. If ever Aesop paid Dinah any attention over dinner, he could spot her knowing smirk, carefully hidden behind her goblet, but it was there even if she never outright said anything.

His mood had much improved, no longer weighed down by the constant nagging feeling of unrequited love and the lingering 'What if?' – her smile and scent no longer torturous but a source of comfort and longing. He still wondered what she saw in him, but the devotion she looked at him with let him believe that this could be forever. Selfishly he let himself dream of days in the English countryside, hidden away in cottages from the prying eyes of the rest of the world, but if selfishness was what this yearning was, Aesop would let himself be a greedy glutton, for he never wished to miss her presence in his life again.

"You think too much," she mumbled, curled into his chest as the sun was slowly starting to rise on the horizon, filling her hut with a glowing orange light.

"I think too much?" he smiled down at her, her eyes still closed in bliss, his masculine scent of firewhiskey and sandalwood enveloping her senses. He had heard that one before.

"Mhm," she hummed, opening her tired eyes to look up at his, his hair still dishevelled and unkempt. "I can almost hear your brooding."

"Apologies, my lady," he jested. "I will be careful to not disturb your beauty sleep any further."

"I will hold you to it", she sighed, falling into his warm embrace, wholly content. "A gentleman should stay true to his word."

"I'm hardly a gentleman," Aesop chuckled lowly. "For if I was, I would not be in your bed without a ring on your finger and a shared last name."

He could see a blush spreading on her cheeks, a timid look of amusement gracing her gentle features. "Perhaps not," she expressed, "but I recall you calling yourself my husband a while ago."

"To defend your honour," the potions master retorted lowly, still enraged whenever someone brought up her unfortunate family. Her father was as equally exasperating as Phineas Black – a herculean task in Aesop's mind, and he had only met the guy for but a single moment.

"How gallant of you," (Y/N) snickered, peering up at him through her eyelashes. "I have been irredeemable in his eyes the very second I boarded the carriage to Hogwarts."

"Hm..." Aesop mumbled, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, feeling the soft lock between his calloused fingers. "Forgive my sharp tongue, but I do not believe I give a single fuck as to what that poor excuse of a man thinks. And neither should you, my love."

"Aesop Cyril Sharp!" his beloved gasped, accompanied by a light slap on his chest. "What a poor choice of words in front of a lady."

Aesop's chest rumbled with laughter, his arms tightening around (Y/N) as she grinned up at him, his heart jumping with glee. They held each other, content as the world around them slowly awoke from its slumber – a new day signalling its commencement. It was a moment of serenity, a place nobody but them existed before they would soon go about their days again, following their routines as they needed to, sharing the glances of secret lovers before their rather clandestine encounters at night would reunite them once more – and Aesop was already counting down the hours, waiting until his love was in his arms again.

"You'll have to sneak back to the castle soon," the young woman in his arms sighed, a dejected pout on her lips.

"I feel like a whippersnapper," Aesop groaned. "Surreptitiously wandering about the grounds."

She giggled gleefully again, pressing herself into his chest. "You are my whippersnapper then."

Aesop's heart jumped again, overfilling with love and boastful pride at the determinative she had used— My whippersnapper.

"Indeed I am," he sighed contently, pressing a kiss atop her head, inhaling her saccharine scent as her hair tickled his nose.

Wistfully Aesop rose from his comforting and warm position on the bed, hissing as his leg protested the movement. Some days it hurt worse than others – today looked to be a rather grim day, even if the days had become warmer again. She was at his side in a second, her arms wrapped around his middle in comfort.

"Do you need me to get you your potion? Or anything else?"

"No," Aesop pressed out, clenching his teeth for a second before he released a shuddering breath, massaging his leg with disdain. He felt as if a perfectly fine morning had been ruined – another reminder that he was wholly inadequate when the woman behind him was not. She only hummed, letting her nimble small hands trace his arms in a soothing motion before pressing a kiss at the nape of his neck. He stood up with careful steps after a while, avoiding too much pressure on his blasted leg.

As he swiftly exchanged his nightshirt for the suit he had worn yesterday, he could hear (Y/N) bustling in the main room of her hut, likely preparing a cup of tea for him as she usually did before he left. The fragrant aroma of Earl Grey fills his nose; the cup appearing in front of him with a tiredly smiling (Y/N) as he gratefully took the cup from her, perfectly warm and not too hot. She traced patterns on his arm as he greedily drank from the cup, the warmth filling his body and providing a strange relief to his leg, reducing the pain to a bearable thrumming.

"Did you put something in here?" Aesop asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Perhaps," she tilted her head with a sly grin. "Did it help?"

"It...did," He avowed, placing the cup on the nightstand before pulling her into his arms.

"Whenever I had a second to spare, I tried to brew on my own," her fingertips still danced over his arms. "You do not have to do this alone anymore, Aesop."

"I do not need your pity," he frowned, though he kept his arms around her waist in a protective embrace. Humiliation coursed through him at her admittance – he was incomplete, crippled. Whatever did she want with him? Surely someone more capable would be able to give her much more, even if the mere thought of her in the arms of someone else asphyxiated him like –

"I know you do not," she smiled, interrupting his train of thought. "Would you let me suffer if I were in pain from a curse?"

"Of course not," Aesop brisked, incensed at the mere thought. "I would not want you suffering needlessly."

"Then do not expect me to sit by idly for you," she whispered, pulling him down by the lapel of his coat. "My foolish whippersnapper."

His lips met hers with a pleased hum, his beard scratching her soft skin, undoubtedly leaving a slight burn.

Perhaps Aesop could truly be selfish – because if the gods above blessed him with the celestial woman in his arms, nothing but believing that reprieve was possible for someone like him was imaginable.

When the weather got even warmer, and June approached them, final exams were soon to be held – as they were every year. Aesop and (Y/N) found themselves busier than ever; their time spent together dwindled to a minimum, which left Aesop rather frustrated most days. More often than not, Aesop had to spend his nights preparing odd brews his students would need to identify, never mind the endless amounts of Invigoration and Calming Draughts Madam Blainey requested at an alarming rate. In any case, Aesop felt like he was drowning in work – a common occurrence towards the end of the school – so it was a welcome distraction when he was forced to leave the dungeons for just a day, even if the trip he needed to take was all but a requirement for him to continue his brewing in the first place.

Aesop's potion supplies were dwindling at a quick pace, and neither his love nor Mirabel were able to keep up with the demand; thus, he found himself forced to take a trip to Feldcroft. Bernard Ndiaye was able to provide Aesop with a few of the missing ingredients, so on a sunny Saturday afternoon, his love and he took the short trip to Feldcroft, a village she had unfortunately only gotten to know under less than cheerful circumstances. Ever since she had successfully fought Ranrok and his rebellion, the hamlet, which had nearly been in ruins once, had been rebuilt and was now a flourishing and quaint place filled with life and many small families.

"I used to think this place was right out of a storybook," she chirped next to him, their arms intertwined as they walked through the Scottish Highlands, approaching Feldcroft with idle steps. The warm weather and the potion (Y/N) had brewed provided enough alleviation for Aesop to promenade for a short while – it was not a cure, nor a long-term solution to his predicament, but like their newfound romance, it was a new dawn.

"Is that so?" Aesop asked, looking down at her. "Well, they certainly owe you for their...liberation."

"I can hardly take all the credit," she waved him off, rosy blush on her cheeks. "They have done exceptionally well ever since Ranrok's loyalists have all but fled."

"Yes, well, and who is to credit for that? Remind me?"

"I do not know what you are talking about?" she grinned at him now, aware of how much her stories from her fifth year rattled him. Or, in Aesop's words, how much they would 'turn him grey before his time'.

"I believe the Order of Merlin that has been bestowed upon your name would beg to differ," he grunted.

"And it is rotting away in Eleazar's home – I have washed my hands of it a long time ago."

"Proudly displayed, no doubt."

"On the mantle of the fireplace," she affirmed with a desolate groan. "I have tried to convince him to burn it – his efforts have been largely in vain."

"He is exceptionally proud of you," Aesop explained with newfound kindness. "After Miriam died, he was... in a rather dark place. The rest of us staff were worried, which is why Matilda persuaded Black to send Eleazar your way when the Book spat out your name."

"Oh," she mumbled. "I never knew."

"You do know they never had children. To him, you are like his own."

"As he is like my father," she nodded absentmindedly. "I owe everything to him."

"A notion I'm confident he shares. So let him display that blasted Order – you are his greatest joy."

She did not argue with him; a slight nod was her only agreement. Aesop once again noticed how much smaller than him she was; the top of her head did not even reach his shoulders. In his mind, she fit into his side like a perfect puzzle piece.

Ndiaye now had a small shop instead the cart (Y/N) remembered from years ago, the place flourishing with the various plants and beast products that littered the business. Ndiaye, much like everyone else, recognised (Y/N) immediately, and Aesop was yet another step closer to grey hair upon hearing the story of how she recklessly risked her life – all for two crates of Chomping Cabbages. Mirabel would have been proud; Aesop was convinced of it.

When they exited his shop, by-products in hand and arms intertwined again, they were intercepted by none other than Sebastian Sallow himself.

"(Y/N)? Professor Sharp?!" the former Slytherin resident troublemaker exclaimed, bewildered, jogging up to the trio with large steps. His eyes did not leave their joined arms – looking at the couple like they had grown an extra head. He had grown up, no longer a chubby-faced teenager but a man with a sharp jawline, a full beard and broad shoulders; the only boyish thing remaining his flocculant and unkempt hair. Aesop still towered over him, unsurprisingly. He was exceptionally tall, after all.

"Sebastian!" his love exclaimed, freeing herself from Aesop's side to happily hug her closest friend – even if she seemed slightly surprised to see him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had moved to the Cotswolds?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sebastian teased with a sly grin, his eyes going back and forth between Aesop and her. "But truthfully, we're here because Anne wanted to meet Estelle."

'We're'? 'Estelle'? Aesop thought, befuddled – a sentiment his paramour did not share.

"Oh, I am so sorry I haven't come to visit!" she apologised profusely. "But Exams have been utterly crazy – we've hardly had any time to do much aside from grading and preparing."

Sebastian only waved her off with a content smile. "Don't fret – we used the time to acclimate to our lives now."

"I can only imagine," she chuckled. "Who would have thought? You, Mr Capital R Rake, Sebastian Sallow, would be the first of our group of misfits to marry and father a child?"

Ah, so this was what their conversation had been about. Of course – Aesop remembered now. (Y/N) had been quite affronted, if not downright disappointed, when Sebastian had kept his marriage and impending fatherhood a secret for months. When he timely announced the birth of his daughter, a child they had named Estelle, his love was over the moon for him and his wife and wouldn't stop talking about visiting the two.

Sebastian chuckled, his smile proud as he puffed out his chest. "Not me, that I'm sure of. Would you like to meet her? I'm confident Megan wouldn't mind."

"I would love to," she agreed, turning around to face Aesop. "Would you mind?"

"No, of course not," Aesop shook his head. "Shall I head back to the castle then?"

"Such a silly man," she giggled, grabbing his hand and masterfully ignoring the comically wide-eyed stare of Sebastian. "You must beat Ominis at his game of being the favourite uncle."

"When did this happen?!" he finally asked, looking as if he were ready to burst.

"February," (Y/N) admitted bashfully, wrapping her arm around Aesop's with a rosy smile. "We've been keeping it under our hats mostly."

"And you were mad I kept my marriage a secret?!" Sebastian sounded affronted, evidently not believing what he was witnessing.

"That's different. We're courting. Unlike someone here, I would not keep my marriage or motherhood a secret."

"That's not – Merlin, he's our old potions professor."

"I may be handicapped, Mr Sallow, but I can assure you, I can hear quite well," Aesop interjected, though he could not deny the happiness that surged in his heart upon his sweetheart admitting that they were courting to one of her dearest friends. She wasn't ashamed of him.

"We are colleagues, Sebastian. Equals," (Y/N) added, her tone leaving no room for any argument to be made. "In any case, you should be showing me, my niece, right now."

"This isn't over," Sebastian mumbled as he led them towards his aged childhood home, which his twin had settled in with her own partner, a travelling merchant from a nearby hamlet.

Aesop hadn't seen Anne Sallow for years, not since she had been cursed. He remembered her to be the ringleader of trouble before she left Hogwarts due to her unfortunate ailment, and while she had never found a cure for it, (Y/N) ending the reign of terror and life of Victor Rookwood – the man who had cursed her – enabled her to live a without day to day debilitating pain.

She was just as stunned as Sebastian had been upon hearing of their relationship, but she still chatted with her former professor, even if the conversation was entirely awkward. Aesop endured for her sake mostly, and it was worth it – nothing would ever make him forget the sheer and utter joy on his love's face when she held her tiny 'niece' in her arms.

Aesop was astonished at how such a wee little thing was able to tear such a starstruck and enchanted smile from a person – he was sure (Y/N) had never smiled as big. He watched as she cooed over little Estelle, her smile blinding as she cradled the tiny thing in her arms, carefully supporting her back and neck. She looked like she had done this a million times, positively natural, and Aesop didn't know whether it was her or him, but his mind was suddenly filled with pictures of her doing precisely this with their kids. When he was younger, he hadn't ever thought of kids, perhaps only as a natural consequence of marriage and marital relations and after his accident, he had written the prospect off entirely. No woman wanted a cripple, much less one as a father to possible children. Now, though, he had a woman who wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and she was young and had even admitted to wanting children. Perhaps they were a possibility after all?

"Aesop?" his beloved turned her attention towards him. "Isn't she just precious?"

"Certainly," Aesop agreed though he did not mean the baby – which was bound to be precious nonetheless. He could not help the smirk that graced his face upon catching Sebastian Sallow's indignant expression.

"You should hold her too," Megan, Sebastian's wife, suddenly suggested, a curious glance on her face.

"I really think I shouldn't," he chuckled upon seeing Sebastian Sallow's face contort strangely. Poor lad would likely never get used to it.

"No, please do," Megan, the wife of Sallow, smiled at him. "Ignore my husband - he's a little thickheaded."

"A little?!" Anne and (Y/N) giggled in unison, promptly ignoring the sound of indignance Sebastian let out.

"Excuse me for being confused over this...," he waved around wildly with his hands, "situation."

"Oh, please. Get over it," Megan rolled her eyes, a teasing grin on her face. "Besides, if our daughter is anything like us, having teachers in her corner will be a godsend when she inevitably gets into trouble at Hogwarts."

"Oh, so this is where it's coming from," Aesop shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't play favourites."

"You will," Megan winked conspiratorially, beckoning him to introduce little Estelle. With her delicate arms and gentle touch, (Y/N) placed the little girl in his arms, smiling at him as he held her; though he was not quite as natural as she was, the tiny thing held awkwardly in his arms. The baby was asleep, so he couldn't view her eyes, but if he had to, Aesop reckoned Estelle resembled her father far more than she did her mother. It made him stop and think about what his children would look like, and instantly, he wished, prayed, they would look like her.

"Not so bad after all, am I right, Bash?" Megan playfully jested, watching the disdain on her husband's face. "Even if our daughter looks positively tiny in those arms."

"She is tiny," Sebastian remarked. "And in any case, this is weird. (Y/N) you do know I thought him to be a git?"

"Sebastian!" Megan and (Y/N) gasped simultaneously, though Aesop could only snort in amusement.

"I wholeheartedly believed you to be one of my more promising students, Mister Sallow," Aesop admitted, his eyebrow raised as Sebastian looked at him with surprise. "If you had applied yourself a little more instead of recklessly breaking the rules and surging into things without even considering any consequence, I might have been less...stern with you."

"I do not surge into things without considering the consequences," Sebastian retorted with affronted indignance – the woman in the room now chortling with mirth.

"Oh no," Megan giggled. "That is precisely why you were cursed in that blasted tomb of the two lovers and thus experienced...ehem... heightened...carnal pleasure."

If Aesop had been a man to blush, he likely would have. Sebastian Sallow undoubtedly was. His love was, too, averting her gaze from anyone and anything – a ferocious blush on her cheeks.

"That was one time," he yapped, his arms crossed in front of him.

"Of course," Megan rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the woman beside her. "He was ready to deflower me in that very same tomb. We undoubtedly have to devise a sweeter story about our first meeting if Estelle ever asks."

"Agreed," Sebastian cleared his throat.

"That's really Sebastian, though," his love chuckled, blush still on her cheeks as she focused on the little babe in Aesop's arms, gently stroking her head in a motherly fashion. "I, for one, can recall a very similar event involving a goblin mine."

Aesop was certain his old heart would give out soon, for this was bound to be yet another tale of her recklessly, foolishly risking her life. She had an affinity for it, no doubt. The words 'goblin mine' were enough to fill him with terror and astonishment – He did not understand how she had survived this long.

"Do I want to know?" Aesop asked with a groan, eliciting a giggle from her.

"No," she shook her head with a wink. "No, you really don't."

"I, for one, agree," Sebastian shuddered. "I am not keen on getting slaughtered by an ex-auror today."

"Oh, Aesop is not that sinister," his love giggled.

"Oh no, I am," Aesop interjected with a threatening smile. "I may have been out of the field for over a decade, but best believe I can still make it look like an accident. I promised your...father," the word spat from his tongue, "as much."

"Your father?" Sebastian asked, his tone worried and, dare Aesop say, alarmed? "What..."

"I don't wish to talk about it," (Y/N) waved him off hurriedly. "Aesop dealt with him more than I did."

"Did he now?" Sebastian mused, a thoughtful look on his face. Suddenly he regarded Aesop with a little less disdain and horror.

Aesop did not count the minutes or hours they stayed at the former Sallow residence. It had been a pleasant change from the frenzied and fully engulfing pre-examination environment at the castle, the atmosphere joyful with little Estelle, even when she had briefly awoken and promptly shown off her impressively large lung. When he and his love were finally leaving, the sun was setting on the horizon, casting a beautifully orange glow over the Scottish Highlands, a warm summer breeze carrying the slightly salty air from the sea.

"Sharp?" Sebastian Sallow lowly called out to him as Megan and (Y/N) said their goodbyes, the latter cooing at the tiny baby in Megan's arms, seemingly not wishing to part from her at all.

"Yes?" Aesop sighed, his leg starting to ache and his mood souring as he remembered how much he would have to brew throughout the night.

"Did you truly meet her father?"

Aesop was surprised, though he tried not to let it show. Sebastian had been her friend for many years; perhaps he knew more than Aesop did, the issue of her father still one she avoided most days – not even considering the simple fact that she saw Eleazar as hers in any case.

"We did," he affirmed with a curt nod. "Dratted meater if you'd ask me."

"I can't say I ever had the displeasure of meeting the man," Sebastian scoffed. "But if you truly took care of him in her place, then...I suppose I should thank you.

Aesop only raised his eyebrow.

"She is akin to family for me and wholly responsible for me standing here at all. For being able to have a family – my daughter. What I am trying to convey, I suppose, is please take care of her."

"You have my word."

A week passed and then another, both in a similar manner as the others before had; their time largely spent apart during the days as they prepared their students for their final exams and OWLs and NEWTS. Yet when the sun had gone down, and the stars were glittering like a million diamonds over the castle, Aesop found himself precisely where he longed to be: in her home, her in his arms or next to him on the comfortable armchairs, the world around them away far enough for just a while. When in her hut, surrounded by warmth and the feeling of 'home', his thoughts cleared miraculously, no longer filled with exams and potions and students that likely would never achieve anything beyond a 'poor'.

Megan Sallow had, as Aesop continued to realise, been right: Little Estelle Sallow would enable him to play favourites – if he was still a Professor by then, of course. More notably, though, seeing his love hold the small child and holding her himself filled him with more and more dreams and desires for his own children, the dreams of days hidden in the English countryside now vividly brighter as tiny feet ran around his mind endlessly echoing as if he were stuck in an everlasting pensive memory. It was ludicrous, foolish even – just a mere year ago, Aesop had believed himself to be resigned to forever Bachelorhood, his fate of living alone and forlorn for the rest of his days not likely to ever change. But it had – for fate had steered a most exquisite and extraordinary woman on his path, and perhaps, just perhaps, she would be inclined to share more than just a life with him.

The very picture of her holding little Estelle was etched into his mind, creating a desire he hadn't thought possible. Aesop did not understand how something so small could hold such power over him. But it did. He wondered if –

"Sickle for your thoughts?" his lover's sweet voice pulled him from his thoughts as she placed her lesson plans for the following week on the small coffee table before she stood up and walked to her small stove.

"I was just reminiscing," he answered truthfully.

"Oh?" She looked at him with her soft gaze, her head titled in genuine interest. "What of?"

"Estelle," Aesop sighed. "I fear her mother may be right, and I will be playing favourites in a few years. Do not let Sallow know I said that, though."

"We both will," she chuckled, preparing another kettle to make more tea, the warm light of the fireplace painting her in an ethereal glow. Though the summer was comfortably mild, the evenings and nights still got cold; thus, Aesop was thankful she continued to light the fireplace. "She was just a darling little thing."

"Not as adorable as ours would be," Aesop let slip out, his tone even as he was only half joking as the thought continued manifesting in his mind. Their children would be more adorable - Aesop was sure of it. Especially because they would be hers – tiny, perfect replicas of her, with her wonderfully bright and loving eyes, her warm persona and exceptional talent.

"I am not certain where this is coming from all of a sudden, but," she shook her head. "You are not half as shocking as you think you are," giggling quietly as she helped herself to another cup of tea, the fragrant, flowery aroma of rooibos filling the space.

"Oh?" Aesop couldn't help but raise his eyebrow as he watched her. Her beautiful hair was shimmering in the low light of her cabin, her (Y/H/C) waves cascading down her shoulders just like Aesop adored, a shift from the elaborate updos and styles she commonly wore – her hair soft and full, likely smelling of citrus and hyacinth, her skin tingling with spring. In short: She was utterly irresistible.

He could almost feel his manhood straining against his breeches, observing her hum lowly as her hips swayed in an unfamiliar rhythm, her face content, complete with a dainty smile. The atmosphere felt domestic, and Aesop found himself pulled into visions of the English countryside again, the images becoming more vivid with each second that time passed them by. He wanted, needed, more.

"Your bark is far worse than your bite," she continued, her tone teasing as she shot him a grin before returning her attention to the stove.

Is that what she truly believed? That his bark was worse than his bite? Had she forgotten that he had been an Auror? That, realistically, he could crush her tiny body between two fingers?

Before Aesop could stop himself, he had risen from his position in front of the fireplace, stalking toward her like a predator seeking its prey – a fitting description in Aesop's mind. She did not notice him, and it was far too easy for him to slowly wrap his arms around her tiny waist and pull himself against her. He could feel her warm body tense below his fingers, her breath hitching as he towered over her. His hair fanned out against her cheeks when he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against her ear. Goosebumps were rising on her body, and he could make out the slightest shiver the closer he leaned into her.

He revelled in the way her body responded to his. So pliant. So... submissive.

"I can assure you, my love," he breathed out against her ear, "that my bite is just as bad."

An audible gasp escaped her as she fidgetted in his arms and turned around, though he kept his arms tightly locked around her waist – trapping her between the stove and himself. She stared up at him, her (Y/E/C) eyes wide as they met his blown-out pupils that bore into hers.

"A-Aesop," she stuttered out. He watched as her cheeks turned rosy, her mouth slightly open. Though their touches had lingered over the past weeks, and their nights had been spent in the embrace of one another, Aesop hadn't been particularly bold or forthcoming beyond precisely that – their romance sweet and innocent and virtuous. He knew of her inexperience, but ever so carefully, he moved his hand upwards, his touch a mere ghost against her body before reaching her face and cupping her chin below his finger. His thumb moved against her lips. They were plump and soft - as was the rest of her.

His self-control was slipping, his manhood straining, and he felt like a juvenile delinquent. Aesop didn't want or ask for many things in life, but at this moment, he desired her.

"Tell me, Y/N," he breathed out, "Do you truly believe that yourself?"

"I-"

His hands moved back to her hips, his hold somewhere between a tight grip and a gentle caress. He wanted to caress her, hold her, love her. And he was unable to suppress his desires any longer. He pressed his front against hers, letting her feel what she did to him, her audible gasp and rosy cheeks sending another jolt down his spine. Her cheeks were burning deliciously, and she simply stared at him.

"Aesop," she whimpered helplessly. He was all-consuming. His deliciously musky scent of sandalwood and firewhiskey enveloped her until all her senses were inhabited by him and only him. His body surrounded her, and the warmth he emitted was nearly suffocating, but it was Aesop, after all.

Aesop.

The same man she had grown to love as much as she had. A man she would entrust her entire life with, knowing that he would do the same. A man who loved her wholeheartedly by his own admittance, who had defended her honour against a man he had never known when she had not even been his. His beard was rough against her cheeks, his head slowly moving down as he pressed feather-light kisses on her jaw and neck. He deeply inhaled her scent, never getting enough, relishing in the slight tremors that shook his love and the whimpers that fell from her lips.

"My love," he mumbled as he continued to kiss her neck, bent down awkwardly to her much smaller height and frame, caressing her sides as he held her close. "You would be the most stunning mother." His hands found her hips, one of them reaching to carefully touch her lower stomach, the very place that would swell with their children, where she would safely carry them until they were ready to come earthside. His voice was gentle, scarcely above a whisper, yet its rough rumbling sound resonated within the air.

"Is that something you could wish for?" he mumbled, looking at her before he placed his lips upon hers, savouring her saccharine taste as they moved in sync; him much more dominating. "For me to make you a mother?"

Her eyes bulged, looking at him, shell-shocked with her mouth still open. "Ae-Aesop," she stuttered lowly, "where is this coming from?"

He smirked at her, his caramel eyes meeting hers with a piercing gaze – a heated shiver tumbling down her spine. "I have not stopped thinking about it ever since you have held Estelle. You were captivating."

His lips met hers again, a blazing fire of desire and want behind the kiss that swallowed her whole.

"Aesop we," she gasped. "We can't. We're not even wedded."

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his mouth. If this was her only problem, it could easily be rectified. More so, Aesop wanted to rectify it. "You think I would want to fuck my children into some random woman?" His voice was several tones deeper, still pressed into her as she took in his unusually forthright and vulgar words with wide eyes. "If it were up to me, my love, we could be married on the morrow and expedite our wedding night."

"Y-you – you want to marry me?"

"Let me reiterate," Aesop whispered against her lips. "I will not fuck my children into anyone but my wife. Anything you yearn for, it's yours."

He observed her face carefully – meticulously. His love wore her heart on her sleeve, conflicting emotions clouding her features. This was her decision and hers alone; she would carry and birth their children, after all. Just before he could pull away and express to her that she had all the time in the world that she needed, her quiet, breathless voice reached his.

"Will it...hurt?" she asked with uncertainty, biting her lip as she stared up into Aesop's eyes. She knew very little of marital relations, her mother telling her just enough to understand what needed to happen for her to conceive. Beasts were luckily quite the same, but in any case, the act did not sound or seem pleasant – but for Aesop and a chance at a family with him, she could endure.

"For a second," he spoke truthfully. "Just a second."

"Okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, letting him place his lips against hers. His mouth felt dominating, his beard coarse against her soft skin, lightly distracting her from his manhood pressing into her lower stomach. Arousal, excitement, anxiousness... they coursed through her as she let herself be enveloped and cared for by him.

Aesop slowly guided her towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers, leaving him in a rather awkward position bent down to her height with his leg thrumming away lowly, but the sheer yearning was enough to make him forget the lingering pain, his sense zeroing in on her and the way her body felt beneath his fingertips. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body flush against his as he kept pressing himself into her, his manhood finding purchase and a torturous relief; before, reluctantly, he moved his lips from hers, both of them breathing deeply.

Ever so carefully, with Aesop's eyes never leaving hers, his fingers moved to her front, carefully unbuttoning her bodice, her chest rapidly moving up and down.

"You do not have to lay with me if you don't wish to," Aesop mumbled, his hands ceasing their careful administrations though he held them at her chest.

"I want to," she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you."

Aesop nodded with a smile, leaning in to kiss her again as his hands removed her bodice, his hands moving around her waist again to carefully unwrap her overskirt; before long, the delicate fabric joined her bodice on the floor, leaving her in her corset and bloomers. Their lips moved in unison, passionately filling his and her soul before they became one, and Aesop could feel her delicate, diminutive hands working to liberate him of his vest. He smiled contently into the kiss, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest at her rather ungainly movements of opening the buttons but allowing her to feel him just as he felt her. Aesop's hand trailed a line against the bone of her hip, his other hand holding her waist steady as the warmth of her body slowly seeped through the thick material of the corset. Pulling away, Aesop could see the peak of her breasts pressing against the corset, barely spilling over – teasing him deliciously.

Her delicate hands tugged at his vest before Aesop let it fall to the ground alongside her garb, leaving him in his breeches and a cotton blouse, some chest hair peeking through at the top. She smiled at him – shyly, nervously, but Aesop could not glimpse a flicker of uncertainty. Carefully, he reached around her, ably loosening the laces of her corset, before the torturous thing joined the rest of her garments and his vest on the floor. She gasped, a sudden sensation of vulnerability as Aesop saw her chest in all its glory, her peaks hardening against the sudden air that kissed them in a welcoming embrace. Before she could cover herself, Aesop tenderly grabbed her wrists, holding them in his much larger hands, his eyes never leaving hers – warm and comforting.

"You are exquisite," he whispered, pulling her close. His larger body enveloped hers, her peaks chafing against the cotton with delicious friction before he kissed her fervently again, his hands roaming across her body as hers found his waist.

Though his body had significantly changed ever since he had left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Aesop remained lean and well-muscled, his shoulders still broad and strong – the assertive air around him never leaving. She could feel it between her fingertips, his shirt leaving little to the imagination as it clung to his body like a second skin.

She gasped into him when his hands suddenly touched her breasts, his hands fondling, fondling them gently, effortlessly cupping them in his large hands. Two fingers slowly swirled around her hardened peaks, teasing her with a gentle, loving caress, swallowing her soft moans as he put forth all his longing and desire into the kiss. Against his mouth, Aesop could feel her soft whining; his manhood twitching as desire unlike he's ever felt before rushing through him.

"Get on the bed," Aesop growled lowly, eyes half-lidded in eros. She pulled away shakily, her eyes trained on him as he guided her towards the bed, letting herself lower down on the mattress when the back of her knees met the edge. Aesop stepped closer, looking down at her with an untamed gaze that sent shivers of craving and a newfound feeling she couldn't describe through her body. His fingers trailed below her chin, tilting it up slightly as he took her in. He felt like a young gentleman again, brimming with ferocious, carnal appetite when he had scarcely even touched her yet. Merlin knew he needed to be gentle – her inexperience and what Aesop suspected was a grand dearth of knowledge were bound to make this…interesting enough.

"And you are entirely certain you want this?" his voice unrecognisable.

"Yes," she whimpered, her nerves alight. For so long, it had been ingrained into her that she was not to lay with a man unless he was her husband, her very existence at Hogwarts having brought shame upon her family. And yet, as Aesop's presence enveloped her, she could not deny herself the sheer wanting and craving with the lasciviousness the moment brought.

He moved to his knees, his leg thrumming as he unhurriedly removed her bloomers, the tips of his fingers grazing her sides before she was as naked as the day she was born. The blaze of arousal that ran through him was as intense as the sun, and he has to remind himself like a chant that this is a first for her. He has to be gentle.

"Lay back," Aesop rasped out, rising to his feet again to remove his boots before he joined her on the bed, leaning over her with one arm supporting his upper body.

His eyes bore into hers as he slowly let his hand trail a sweet caress down her body. His touch was feather-light, the tips of his fingers scantily making contact with her heated skin, but it was enough to perceive the goosebumps that littered it. Her mouth was slightly open, though her eyes were wide - filled with anticipation, wonder and the lingering fear of the unknown.

His hand travelled lower, perhaps slightly clumsily, until it finally reached her hip and then the apex of her thighs. Her breath sped up slightly, but her eyes held onto his and Aesop revelled in the trust she was giving him. She had offered herself on a silver plate, and he would not stop until he had devoured her whole.

Ever so slowly, he manoeuvred her legs open, settling himself between them before his hand travelled lower and finally reached the place he wanted to absolutely wreck.

Aesop felt the small wet tuft, his touch teasing as he carefully slid his finger up and down her slit.

"Oh," she gasped, surprised, her breath speeding up as her thighs clenched around him.

"So responsive," Aesop chuckled lowly, "and I have barely even touched you."

She only whined when his touch became bolder, his middle finger pressing down on her womanhood as his thumb searched for her clit. If he wanted to fuck her - if she wanted him to take her, he would need to prepare her in every way conceivable.

"Is this good?" he breathed out, his eyes still not leaving hers as he leant down, peppering her face in soft and gentle kisses. His fingers, at last, found her little nub – small and hard, peeking out like a treasured secret, his thumb simply pressing down on, whilst his middle finger caressed up and down, and she gasped out, her back rising from the bed.

"Yes," she finally found her words and nodded meekly. "I - Ah!"

Aesop chuckled as he pressed down harder, slowly drawing precise circles on her clit as her womanhood gradually became more and more damp beneath his ministrations. He littered small kisses along her cheeks and jaw – barely tangible – as she whined and squirmed underneath him, her breath reduced to erratic pants that only fuelled his own arousal. His breeches were confining, but witnessing her descent into bliss was nothing if not a blessing. This was his personal Eden - Aesop was sure of it.

He could feel her hole, tight and searing and oh so enticing, as his index finger joined his middle finger and touched her with newfound vigour. His thumb increased the pressure on her clit, and she keened.

"Aesop!"

"Yes?" he mumbled, his mouth on her throat, suckling tiny precious bruises all over. He could feel her heartbeat when his lips trailed her jugular vein, and it beat in the rhythm of his own. Her whining and squirming made him growl, but he would have been lying if it didn't excite him all the same.

"I- Ah!"

"Use your words, my sweet girl," Aesop drew back, his eyes finding her face again – her eyes shut in unadulterated bliss.

"Look at me," he bade her, "I want you to look at me when I make you come. When you unravel on my fingers."

Obediently she obliged, her frantic eyes finding his as she let out desperate pants and arched up into him.

"Please," she begged him.

"Please, what?" He teased her with a wolfish grin.

"More."

She felt so utterly overwhelmed and treasured as he made her feel things she had never felt before. Aesop was all-consuming, and she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her. Pleasure she had never thought would even exist.

Between her legs, Aesop let his middle finger wander closer to her heat, pressing deeper as he went, feeling her wetness seeping out of her. Ever so carefully, almost curiously, he inserted his finger, coaxing a kittenish trill from her.

"Oh, oh," she squirmed under him, the sensation foreign and not entirely pleasant. His finger was easily the size of two of hers, a burning feeling accompanying its breaching entrance.

"Shh," he shushed her, littering kisses over her face once more. "I have to, my love. I have to. Just... let me feel you."

A soothing exhale let her refocus on the circles he drew on her clit and the pleasure shooting through her. His movements were meticulous, calculated and more pleasing than anything she had ever tried on herself.

Against his own thighs, Aesop could feel hers tensing and flexing, and he gave her a moment's reprieve before he could sense her settling, and he steadily began moving his finger in and out. She was tight, expectedly so, which only meant he would have to put in a substantial amount of work if she were to take him. To divert her attention further, he descended his head until his mouth found her erect nipples, enveloping one as she flexed into him.

"Aesop," she moaned lowly. He hummed in response – the vibrations a delightful sensation.

Though her hut had been comfortably warm before, it felt like it was positively ablaze now, the heat flickering away at her exposed skin, arousal running through her like a Graphorn untamed. The hand that had previously held him up now moved downwards, cupping her other breast, caressing it with teasing strokes that drove her mad.

"So tight," Aesop mumbled against her breast, his finger still dragging through her heat gently and slowly. "My perfect girl. So tight and warm..."

Her breathing quickened – chest rising against Aesop's face, his beard prickly against her delicate skin. Moans escaped her mouth; his thumb steadily increased its pressure on her as he worked her open. Delicately, he slipped in a second finger, pausing as she tensed up and before her tight and warm body opened up to him, welcoming his fingers as she groaned in rhapsody.

"Aesop..."

She trembled, overwhelmed by the very emotion and intimacy of the moment, a warm heat gathering in her lower abdomen as his motions slowly sped up, the delicious pressure of his fingers on her nub bringing her closer to the edge of delirium.

"That's it," Aesop mumbled against her, slowly rising up to look at her face. "That's it, my love."

Fervently, Aesop placed his lips upon hers again, consuming her cries of bliss as her body arched into his, her nipples brushing against the cotton of his blouse. One of her hands travelled from her sides to his waist whilst the other found his hair tangling itself in it as his movements quickened. Expertly, Aesop curled his two fingers inside her, uncovering the bundle of pleasure that made her keen under him. She broke the kiss, turning her head to the side as she moaned vociferously – panting as she got closer and closer to ecstasy.

"Aesop, I –" she gasped, looking right into her lover's eyes, her pupils blown and cheeks rosy the closer he brought her to completion.

"I've got you," he promised lowly, speeding up his movements as he felt her womanhood tighten up around his fingers. "Let go, my love. I've got you."

She felt like she was burning. From the way his fingers felt on her – in her – making her sweat and drip on the sheets as she writhed beneath him, the heat burning from between her legs before it spread in every little part of her body – an all-consuming inferno.

"I – Ah!"

"That's it, my love," Aesop cooed, curling his fingers against her spot, watching as she unravelled beneath him. Her eyes clenched, her hips wriggled underneath him, canting upwards – as she chased the foreign sensation that built up inside of her. Aesop fondled her clit a little faster, flicking it with animalistic precision as his fingers mercilessly assailed that tenderly sweet spot inside of her; before long, her womanhood clenched violently, and her first orgasm swept over her. Aesop watched, enthralled and utterly bewitched, as she cried out in pleasure, her thighs clenching around his hips and her tiny hands tightening, finding his shoulders and digging into them.

"Oh! Aesop!"

He could only groan, his manhood twitching at the thought of finally settling himself inside her tight, dripping warmth. Aesop continued to move his fingers – in, out – the movement lazy, helping her ride out the crashing waves of her orgasm before her tremble ceased and her moans shifted into paltry whines. He retracted his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he sucked on them like a man starved, tasting her ambrosial wetness. She tasted like she smelled – saccharinely sweet like honey, entirely addicting. When he opened his eyes once more, he found his love staring at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her hair spread around her head like a glowing halo. She was sweaty, her chest still heaving against the swelting heat of the hut – Aesop could feel his eyes darken in desire.

His lips met hers with another bruising kiss, his prickly beard scratching against her delicate skin. She could taste the remnants of herself on him – an odd taste if one were to ask her – but she was left utterly breathless from the sheer overwhelming intensity of emotions surging through her, her very soul intertwining with his. To love someone as deeply as she loved Aesop had been one thing, but to feel the love reciprocated and returned tenfold was another dizzying reality entirely.

"I love you," Aesop breathed out. "Fuck – I love you."

"Aesop," her eyes widened, though her heart overfilled with love at his proclamation, and her eyes filled with tears. "I love you too."

He smiled at her – how could he not? Whenever did he get this lucky?! Perhaps he had saved a nation once – there was no perspicuous reason for this love otherwise.

His hands found her sides again, feeling her curves with a reverent worshipping touch, relishing the soft skin of her much smaller body beneath the callouses of his fingers. She shivered lightly, keeping her eyes trained on his. No matter the trepidation coursing through her veins, she was safe and cared for in Aesop's arms and beneath his much larger body – enveloping her as the world around blurred outside her focus. With quivering hands, she reached out to his waist, pulling at his shirt with a subtle whine.

Aesop chuckled lowly, pulling his shirt from his breeches before he allowed her to help him pull his blouse over his head as it promptly joined the rest of their garments on the floor. His love glanced at him, a demure gaze as she followed the lines of his scars littering his torso, though most of them were hidden by the ample amount of hair that covered it.

"And you say I'm exquisite," she whispered bashfully.

Carefully, she reached out to the largest one by his ribs, following the line with the ghost of a touch into the thick fur in the middle of his chest. Her fingertips danced over his pectorals, causing Aesop to release a shuddering breath before he leaned down again to find her lips. Her hands pawed at him hungrily, almost boldly, as he devoured her lips in a searingly hot kiss.

"May I try something?" he asked breathlessly.

"I trust you."

A wolfish grin spread across his face, sending a jolt of desire down her spine, unsure of what to expect. For one last second, he drank in her gaze upon his body, watching as she took in his broad shoulders and tapered waist before he bent down again, pressing kisses along her neck and collarbones, his hot breath fanning against her bosom.

"It'll be good, I promise," he mumbled, grin still on his face as he attended to her erect nipples with two kittenish licks before he went lower. His beard scratched against her belly, the delicious friction sure to leave a slight burn on her the following day, but her eyes widened again when he went even lower.

"Stop thinking," Aesop muttered, feeling her tensing lightly beneath him as he kissed down her torso. "Just let yourself feel."

He ceased again for just a second when his lips reached her lower stomach – a moment to relish her sweet scent with blissfully closed eyes. Lovingly, tenderly, he pressed a kiss down right where her womb would be – a silent prayer, a wish, sent up to whichever God had sent her his way to ensure this would be fruitful. He knew his love was utterly magical, but this secret place of hers was capable of creating wonders he yearned for – possessively, wholly and greedy in ways he hadn't known.

"A-Aesop, what are you –?" she asked with a stutter when he went even lower, spreading her legs further, placing himself between them as he held them in his arms.

"Push me away if you wish for me to stop, my love," a grin still on his face as he lowered his body to level with her womanhood. He gazed at her – right at the place he was hoping to ravage – whimpering with desire. He wasn't sure if he had ever expected anything, but if he did, it exceeded his expectations, for she looked oh so beautiful and alluring. Unable to stop himself, he bent down, brushing his nose up and down her mound, his beard leaving a deliciously sweet burn against the skin of her thighs as she started to shake and gasp in his hold. She smelled even better than he had dreamed, and without forewarning, his lips closed around her nub and sucked.

Aesop was silently thankful her hut was nearly off grounds; the absolute wail of pleasure she let out would've been heard by the entire castle otherwise. Her hips canted upwards, her legs sealing around him, and her arms flailing around until they found Aesop's hair. She didn't push him away, but her grasp was tight, holding onto him like he was her lifeline.

"Aesop!"

He hummed lowly in response, his eyes closed at the delectable taste, pulling and suckling at her most sensitive part.

"Aesop it – Ah! 's too much I – "

Her hips moved desperately beneath him – up, down; left, right – wriggling; trying to elude his succour and moving closer simultaneously. Determined to make her stay, Aesop wrapped one of his arms around her hip, pressing her down into the mattress as the other held open her legs. There was not a single thing on earth that could have impeded Aesop's ministrations, her yelps and incoherent pleas falling on deaf ears as his tongue swirled around her clit, pressing circles into her. He desperately osculated her ambrosial wetness – wanting, craving, needing her to come undone once more, his grip on her tightening.

"'sop – Please, I – Ah!"

His name fell from her lips like a reverent prayer, her upper body thrashing around and her breath uneven as she gulped in the air between her cries of pleasure. Her quim was positively dripping – her fluids spreading against her thighs and onto the sheets of her bed. Aesop's own groans of desire sunk into her, breathing in heavy pants as he devoured her whole. His fingers found her hole again, this time easily inserting two as her womanhood clenched periodically around them. The bed jerked with her movements, the wooden frame clattering against the stone walls as the room continued to heat up.

"I – Oh, Merlin – I... Ahhh!"

Aesop chuckled, his fingers curling and hitting the same precious spot over and over again. She tasted so sweet; her womanhood frail and warm against his tongue as he lapped at her rapaciously.

"Good girl," he rasped out somewhere in between. "Doing so well for me."

Her spluttering cries filled him with wicked pride as her head thrashed against the pillows – him holding down the rest of her, leaving her entirely at his mercy – unable to do anything but take what he gave her. It was riveting to know he would be the first man to bed her, that he was the first to introduce her to the endless fields of pleasure, as much as it thrilled Aesop to know he would also be her last. His fingers dallied their movements, his tongue ceasing its assault in place of kittenish licks, wishing to draw out her ecstasy before he decided to enter a third finger. Her eyes scrunched up with the discomfort she was suddenly feeling, his tongue scarcely enough to make it decently pleasing.

"Aesop," she groaned lowly, pushing her hip into her mattress in a futile attempt to escape him – his iron grip did not relent. "It's too much."

"Shh..." he soothed her, his fingers moving in and out, curling inside her, opening her and making her all the more pliant for him. "Shh... there you go, my love. You can take it."

His arm held her hips pertinaciously as his fingers worked deeper inside with each thrust – a little further each time they moved. She yelped, pleasure and pain intermingling when his tongue curled around her bundle of nerves, holding the highly sensitised part of her on the unforgiving, warm cushion of his own flesh before he sucked, the violent waves of ecstasy creeping up on her once more. Her wetness seeped out of her, dripping down the knuckles of his fingers, dirtying her thighs and the sheets below. The sounds he drew from her were utterly obscene, filling the air, which likely reeked of their activities, and he wasn't even close to being done with her. Her thighs trembled under his hold, her upper body thrashing around.

She wished for it to stop, yet she prayed this would never end.

"Aesop...Aesop... Merlin, I – Oh, OH."

"It's alright," Aesop mumbled. "You're doing so good for me. My perfect girl."

Her second orgasm collided with her very soul – violently, fiercely, drowning her in the waves of ecstasy as the world around her shifted into a blinding white, turning her blissfully boneless. Her cries echoed in her hut, bouncing off the walls like sweet singing. Aesop groaned, his being awash with desire as his stiff manhood strained against his breeches – so much that it almost hurt. His fingers moved lazily, a few languid strokes helping her through the aftershocks of her peak, heat consuming her as she lay sapless beneath him. Aesop hastily unbuckled his breeches, pushing them down along with his underpants, letting his sizable erection spring free though his gaze did not wander from her.

His love looked downright sinful.

She swallowed in greedy, deep breaths, her chest heaving as the electrifying feeling of her ecstasy continued to tingle through her, the world still spinning – she hardly even realised that Aesop was now naked too. Some hair clung to the nape of her neck, the rest fanned out around her as beads of sweat covered her lithe little body. It was as if she glowed from within – Aesop was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful.

He slowly made his way back up to her, his arms on either side of her body, holding him up and relieving most of the pressure from his leg, though it barely hurt as it stood. His eyes didn't leave hers, though they were still hazy in the afterglow. Aesop's hand lovingly caressed her face, pushing back a stray hair or two, waiting until her eyes found his again. His shaft twitched anxiously, resting between her body and his – warm and soft and waiting.

When she glimpsed at him – her eyes truly finding his – her eyes widened at the sight of him. Aesop hair was dishevelled, the hairline littered with beads of sweat as his dark eyes feasted upon her state. He was the very picture of depravity – his face drenched in her release from his nose to his lips, clinging to his stubble. She blushed fiercely at the view above her, almost averting her gaze had his fingers not caressed her cheeks. For the first time, she could feel the weight of his manhood against her stomach, the naked skin of his large body enveloping hers, but she didn't dare look down. It felt massive, though a large man like Aesop would likely be rather well...endowed. Dread filled her at the thought of him actually entering her, her breath picking up again – unable to hide the nature of her feelings.

Aesop's sweet and gentle caress steered her focus back to him, his smile just as soft.

"I will be as gentle as I can," he promised, his voice low and placating. "It will hurt for a second, and if you need me to stop, you can tell me."

He was so honest, so loving – so gentle and kind; her Aesop – that she could only nod, allowing his lips to fall upon hers as he shifted between her legs. She tried to remember what her mother had told her about the marital act – that she would simply need to endure – but it did little to subdue the tension she felt when she could feel him pressing against her folds. A pitiful whine escaped her lips, and she desperately tried to focus on anything else.

"I've got you," Aesop gentled her, his eyes now looking down between their bodies. He was unable to see much, but his heart thumped erratically at the sight of his manhood, hard and pulsating with need, right at her entrance. It had been a while for him, too; most carnal encounters after Scarborough were merely transactional (if at all), and Aesop wasn't sure if he had ever felt desire and need as intensely as he had at this moment.

"I've got you," he reiterated quietly, frowning a little as he eased the tip of him inside. She gasped for a second before holding her breath altogether, clenching her eyes shut upon feeling pure pressure.

"There you go, my love," he whispered against her ear, curling his large body over hers, trying to hold himself back as he felt the tip of his manhood enveloped by the tight heat of her – entering her with a torturously slow pace.

"I love you. You're doing so well, my love… So well. My good girl."

Light kisses and a gentle caress kept her with her, her contorted face strained as Aesop gently and slowly worked himself into her – he hated that this even needed to be unpleasant in the first place. Another gasp escaped her abruptly, deep and greedy breaths filling her lungs with the parching air surrounding them. Her sweaty chest stuck to his, her erect buds teased by the hair on his chest. The symphony of sensations was wholly overwhelming as she struggled to contain both him and herself.

Pressure. Agony. Desire. Want. Aesop – inside her.

Aesop let himself rest, her womanhood pulsating around him as it struggled to contain what little of his length he had inserted. Her small, near inaudible whimpers tore at his heartstrings – enough to distract his mind off the perfectly mindblowing sensation of feeling enveloped by her, his entire being aching with need as she leaked around him and he around her – easing the tight passage with their bodies aflame and hearts beating as one.

"Breathe, my love," Aesop cooed, his hand caressing the sides of her body in gentle strokes as he tried to ease more of himself inside of her, unable to stop a slight moan from escaping his lips.

"Aaaahh – " she grit out between her teeth, feeling overwhelmingly full. It was too big – feeling like it was tearing her apart at the seams, and she felt utterly pathetic beneath him. However, was she meant to fit that?

"Aesop!"

"Look at me," Aesop whispered, his breath mere inches away from her face. "Come, my love. Look at me. I've got you, okay?"

Whimpering, she opened her eyes, the caramel warmth of Aesop's finding hers as he was brimming with overwhelming love and adoration – enough to bring down an entire army. He gently placed a kiss upon her forehead as his hand moved lower again, resolved to make this pleasurable for her. If it had simply been about his own pleasure, he would have come undone within but a second.

"Try to relax, my love," he gentled, his hand finding her hardened nub again, smirking when she moaned in bliss as he gently put pressure on it, drawing light circles and cajoling more wetness from the depths of her core. She was feverishly warm, enveloping him with a vice grip – soft, warm, dripping the further he went. The arm holding him above her was tense, straining with the effort to keep him upright when she felt so good around him as he moaned himself with the warmth surrounding him. Slowly, gently, he eased more of himself inside, pressing his hips forward as his manhood fought against the tight clenches of her channel. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears – but they did not leave his.

"Ahh – Aesop!"

"That's it, my love. My beautiful girl...I love you," he gentled. "You are doing so well. So very well for me."

"I…I…"

"What is it, my love?" he asked, his hip pressing forward another excruciating inch, their bodies aching for the other as he leaked around her the way she did around him – easing the passage and helping her stretch against him. Her breathing was erratic, her cheeks glaringly red as pleasure and pain intermingled once more. "What do you feel?"

"It..mhm..." A tender moan spilt from her, her womanhood slowly loosening around him. "–sop."

"Yes, my love?" He whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth as he felt her shivering beneath him. He rubbed her clitoris with messy and soft strokes, relishing her low moans as her eyes fluttered shut – this time in pleasure. Aesop could not help the small smile that placed itself upon his lips, for she was breathtaking. Another inch pressed into her, the discomfort returning and a choked little sob spilling from her plush lips – a stray tear spilling from her eye.

"Do you wish for me to stop?" Aesop asked her gently, halting all his movements as he awaited her answer. She did not answer him, though she shook her head furiously from side to side.

"Look at me," he bade her again, his hand cupping her face as he gentled her with a soothing touch. "You do not have to endure if you cannot."

Her teary eyes met his as she gulped before another sharp intake of breath filled her lungs. "I don't want you to stop," she whimpered miserably. "Please just..." she bit her lip, her gaze averting in shame.

"Please, what, my love?" he asked. "You can tell me anything. You need to tell me if you want this."

"What you've been doing with your fingers..." she gulped. "I want…I need…"

"Do you need me to…" he slowly pressed his fingers on her clitoris again – a little more pressure than before – his voice fading as she gasped and arched into him.

"Yes…" she sighed contently, the furrow of her brow decreasing, and her eyes closed again. "A–Ae–Aesop," she shakily moaned, her hips canting upwards to meet his.

His self-control was admirable, the strain on his own body and mind evident by the strain in his arm and his own panting breaths. Her womanhood parted for him, the tight muscle easing as she relaxed into his touch – clenching hard then parting like a greedy mouth. His shaft was leaking a trail inside her with each small push forward – she did not believe he could go any further, for it already felt like he was beyond anywhere he should be. Before long, Aesop pushed forward one more time – burying himself with one long and stubborn thrust, reaching all the way inside her.

She wailed and burst into tears at the sensation, Aesop's own head dropping between the valley of her breasts as he groaned deeply at the sheer feeling.

"Aesop!"

"Fuck," he groaned lowly, the hand next to her head gripping the sheets – his hand surely turning white with force. He had stilled inside her, allowing both him and her to adjust to the foreign feeling. Her chest was rising violently, pushing against his as he fully enveloped her beneath him.

"A-Aesop," she whimpered, a twinging pain still lingering in her lower body, her legs sapless on either side of him. "It - ah…hurts."

"I know, my love," Aesop breathed out, his eyes clenched in focus. "You're so – ah...tight."

His hands found her sides again, tracing delicate patterns across her heated skin – all whilst he lingered inside her; unmoving. Slowly, but surely, he felt her settle, her breath evening out and her core loosening. The pain that had pierced her and lingered in her womanhood slowly dwindled away, leaving nothing but a sensation of overwhelming fullness in its wake. His weight upon hers felt strangely comforting, a familiar feeling among the symphony of vast and earth-shattering novelties. Aesop was scalding against her, his broad and heavy and burly body encasing her protectively – shielding her from the world around her, though if she had to describe her world now, there would only be Aesop anyway. She said nothing – much like he did – allowing his panting breath to fan over her bosom as her tears dried. Her fingers, as she now began to realise, had pressed into his sides, leaving red marks on his tough skin.

"Oh," she whispered as she loosened her tight grip.

"Hm?" Aesop mumbled, the vibrations hitting her bosom. "What is it, my love?"

Her voice was trembling and quiet when she answered him – plagued by the shame of what she had done. "I fear I might have hurt you..."

She could feel Aesop's chest rumbling with a low chuckle, the action sparking…something unknown between the folds of her quim before he rose to meet her eyes again, a lopsided smirk on his flushed face.

"My love," he mumbled, a stray hair pushed from her tear-streaked face. "My beautiful, beautiful love...You have cried, certainly not from ecstasy this time, and you worry about me?" Another low chuckle vibrated through them. "Fear not – you haven't hurt me. I have endured far worse."

He watched as she bit her lip, evading his piercing gaze in shame, more tears gathering in her eyes.

"None of that," Aesop chided lovingly, pushing her face to meet his, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. "You're doing so well for me," he whispered, eyes closed in bliss as he felt her walls pulsate around him. He embraced her lips in a loving kiss once more, their tongues mingling as he continued to lead her. "How do you feel?"

"Full," she whimpered lowly. "So… ah – full, Aesop."

A deep groan left his lips upon her admission. Call it male pride or call it unnaturally developed self-conceit, but Aesop could not help the blaze of arousal that burst through him at her admittance. He knew he was charitably blessed, more so than most men – not that she had any way of knowing – but his love took him perfectly, doing so well for him – only him.

"Fuck," he rasped out, straining above her as her warm heat continued to envelop him in a vice grip.

She looked entrancing beneath him, eyes shut, with bitten lips – her chest rising against his, body flushed beautifully as it lay against the pillows. And she was all his. Eternally and entirely his.

"You are doing so well," he praised her in a low tone once more, his hands tracing placating patterns on her skin as they descended towards her hips. He could feel her tension under his fingers, her body shivering – so far removed from the ecstatic state she had been in before.

"Do you trust me?" Aesop whispered, almost inaudible.

"Yes." Her voice was squeaky, and she did not open her eyes, but the word spilt from her lips with no hesitation – and that was enough for Aesop.

He firmly took hold of her hips, angling himself above her – rubbing comforting circles into her hips. Gently, he eased a few inches out, her quim clinging to him before he eased himself back inside with the same familiar gentleness. A breathless gasp escaped her, her eyes opening to meet his as he meticulously took in her body's every response, his eyes hazy with desire and wanting – it sent a shiver down her spine. It was a peculiar feeling, entirely recondite but not unpleasant altogether. Each slow thrust which met her allowed his pubic bone to grace her clit with delicious friction, his manhood gradually opening her up with every thrust – battering away any clenching as her womanhood took him. Her arms were wrapped around his torso; fingers pressed into the blades of his shoulders as Aesop rhythmically moved, a little more each and every time.

She watched as his head dropped between his shoulders, a deep groan escaping him as her warmth circled him. Merlin, Aesop could truly not recall ever feeling even close to this – She was so tight for him, so warm, and so delicate beneath him that it took every atom of his being not to rush himself into climax; he felt like a dratted schoolboy again. Thank Merlin, he was adept at concocting Bruisewort Balm as he knew with absolute certainty that his grip on her hips would leave bruises.

His grinding movements gradually turned pleasant – no longer pressurising.

"Aesop," she groaned, her tone entreating. "I – ah…"

"You feel so perfect, my love," he groaned, allowing his face to move downwards so his mouth could envelop one of her hardened peaks once more, his tongue swirling around despairingly, his hair tickling against her heated skin. "– Doing so well for me. Taking me so perfectly."

He could feel her womanhood dampening around him, easing his motions further – a dark chuckle escaped him.

"You like that, my love? Being told that you're my good – ah," Aesop grunted as he ground his pelvis deeper, her lower body pushed into the mattress. "– my good, good, girl? All for me?"

"Yes," she sighed contently, her eyes closing in bliss.

He cooed against her breasts, deep, breathless, his grinding slowly turning into gentle thrusts – still careful not to hurt her. The hands he held on her hips relaxed, one moving lower to angle her hips differently as he moved his own. Each thrust inwards left her closer to being utterly sapless, unable to do anything but take what he gave, his generous length and girth aiming to brush against the soft spot above her entrance that made her way to wail out in pleasure.

Aesop's head shot up in astonishment when her womanhood tightened around him violently, her rear and head rising from where she lay as she wailed.

"Aesop! Oh…Oh!"

His length brushed against her spot mercilessly, teasing her deliciously when she was very much sated from the two peaks of ecstasy before – the sensation both aching and sending her closer to delirium.

"There you go," Aesop rasped, his shallow thrusts gaining momentum. "Is that good?" he asked, groaning, teasingly pushing his length to deliberately beat away at that tender spot.

"Yes!" his love cried out beneath him, scarcely believing the sheer pleasure she was suddenly feeling – never having felt such an intense cacophony of feelings aimed at her before. With a growl through clenched teeth, Aesop moved his hands to her breasts, fondling them tenderly as he rose up to look down upon the ethereal form of his beloved. The guttural moan he released when he took in the very picture of sin beneath him shook him to his core, the familiar sensation of his impending peak quelling in his lower region. He had to slow down, fearing he would finish before she did, though he could feel her peak approaching.

She looked like a sacred piece of art – sweaty, moaning, and blissfully boneless, her hair spread out like a halo, cheeks flushed, and eyes closed – his own groans of pleasure hastening her voracity.

"You're doing so well for me," Aesop groaned. "So fucking well. All for me. My beautiful girl."

"Yes!" she chanted affirmatively. "All for you."

His thrusts were slow, tempered - reaching parts of her she never thought anyone would reach. His hips canted against her, pushing her further into the mattress, pressing deep, so very deep, into her, the tip of his manhood pressing against her cervix with the sheer force of his thrusts, her womanhood stretched open. She was utterly vulnerable – her legs shook with the intensity of emotions coursing through her, shaking her to her very soul.

"Fuck," Aesop hissed hotly. "I love you. I love you so much. My good – ah, girl. Doing so well for me. My lovely woman… So warm, so… ah....good."

"Aesop!" she cried out, her grip on his shoulders tightening as the familiar coil of eros bubbled beneath her skin again, the flames of desire licking their way up from her womanhood and spreading through her body mercilessly. "I – oh god. I –"

"I've got you," Aesop rasped reassuringly, his touch a temperate anchor in the endless sea of ardour she was drowning in. She cried out once more, a stray tear spilling from the corner of her eye, which Aesop gently wiped from her cheek before he reached down and pressed a soft kiss into the crown of her hair.

"I've got you," he promised once more with a sweet sigh, "You're ah – doing so well for me. I love you so much. Ah – taking me so well. Fuck – I'm so...so proud of you… It's alright... let go for me."

She felt his soft, groping hand, helplessly desirous touching along her body and face, caressing her softly - oh so softly – with infinite soothing and assurance. It was so much and never enough, the staccato building and building confronting her with the innermost parts of herself. Never had she felt so acutely the agony of her own forlornness, yet embraced in Aesop's arms, she knew she would never feel forlorn again. She was his, and he was hers. She had reached the peak twice before that night, but this was so greatly different that she wondered if she had truly reached it after all. He was turgid and quivering inside her, the strange thrills rippling through her like burning embers – dashing to points of brilliant exquisiteness. She lay near unconscious of the frenzied cries she emitted, unaware of his gaze upon her trembling body as she was consumed entirely. She clung to him in her burning passion, his rhythms flushing up into her, filling her entire, cleaving consciousness until she was nothing but a burning flame.

Aesop nearly came apart at the sight and feeling of her, the sight celestial, but he craved, needed, more.

"Fuck," he groaned. Though his movements slowed, they did not cease altogether, his eyes closing in bliss as his thick manhood scraped against her tender, clenching walls. His thrusts were gentle as he helped her through the throes of her peak, lidded eyes, observing her every tremble. When his love came to, noting his continued movements, her eyes shot open, their hazy gaze blurry.

Stuttering, his name left her lips, the burning molten between her legs never ceasing. "A-A-Aesop."

He continued to rock inside; out. It was a moment of pure peace for Aesop, the entry into the body of her so very pleasurable – his hips meeting hers. Her legs tensed, and her womb clenched, unsure if it was pleasure or pain this time around. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the hut, the room hot and humid amidst their moans and groans and her cries.

"Aesop 's too much," her speech slurred, struggling to keep her eyes on his.

"You are doing so well," he grunted, adjusting the grip he held on her, snapping his hips up violently, his antecedent restraint and control dwindling. His arms circled her, Aesop's body on hers, his wet body touching hers, so close. "You can give me one more."

His thrusts pushed the literal air from her lungs, gasps and moans spilling from her bitten lips – his name sometimes in between like a prayer. Aesop's hands caressed down her sides until he bent forward, lifting her kneed to wrap her leg around his waist, holding it there – the new angle leaving her vulnerably open. Their eyes met one another – hazy with lust and wanting and need and earth-shattering love and devotion simmering below the surface.

"I love you," the young woman sobbed out, his manhood hitting the deepest parts of her, the tip of it pressing against the entry to her womb. Her back arched into him, his scalding chest resting over hers, rough hairs chafing against her tight and tender nipples. She loved him beyond anything - adored him till her knees were weak as she walked and her heart could no longer survive without him. He was her air, her warmth, her very reason for being.

Something gave way, and the potions master above her precipitously, violently, thrust his hips into hers, held up only by his bruising grip as the remains of her lay sapless beneath him. Aesop slid his hands down her body, his callouses leaving goosebumps in their wake as he caressed her soft stomach before his fingers found her erect clit above her entrance. Her wails were the sweetest song Aesop had ever heard, the vicious grip on his shoulders sure to leave imprints for days to come.

"I love you too – fuck," Aesop hissed, allowing himself to close his eyes as he battered away, his movements forceful and erratic. His mind filled with the reason they were engaging in the first place – a vivid image conjured in his mind of her swollen and rounded body.

"You will look so beautiful," he murmured breathlessly. "So stunningly beautiful. Whole with my children – ah, fuck."

Her womanhood clenched, flowing and alive and vulnerable as the image filled her too – helpless with adoration of him and what she wanted him to do – before it opened, ready to be filled with new life all for him – with him.

Both her and his yearning adoration for one another was fearful, leaving them helpless in each other's embrace and so different from what had been their relationship – a new dawn blooming. It was sinking into them as his manhood sunk into her, deep into their being to the centre of all creation. Aesop had not known yearning like this – possibly even feared it his entire life, lest if he adored too much, he would be vulnerable; a slave to his emotions which he certainly had never wished to be. Yet as he moved into her, enveloped tightly and loved, he would no longer fight it. It was so fathomless, so soft, so deep and so unknown – yet he surrendered, just as she had.

"Aesop!" she cried out.

"Your womb will be full with me," Aesop groaned nonsensically. "So filled with life that everyone shall see."

Her hips canted upwards to meet his thrusts, his finger pressing wildly into her bud as ecstasy drew near – for both of them. Her wails of pleasure filled the room around them, his lowly groans swirling between. Her legs had wrapped around his hips, holding him close in her vices, and her womanhood felt perfectly satisfied – the female inside her never more loved and cared for than it had been in this very moment. His phallus was forcing her to take every sensation, and she no longer felt ashamed to want it all.

"Take it," Aesop growled. "Take my seed, and I shall ensure you will be a mother."

"Yes, yes, please, I – " she begged through pleasured sobs, wishing he would finally fill her. The yearning with which she realised the difference between wanting a child and wanting his was discordant, even if it seemed ordinary enough. But to be filled with Aesop's child, and his alone, made her feel like a woman reborn.

One final, forceful thrust before Aesop's lips fell upon hers, his ecstasy intermingling with hers, their souls intertwining as Aesop swelled and swelled, pushing his seed inside her – pure deepening whirlpools of sensation swirling through them until they were one perfect concentric fluid of feeling, his life springing into her.

They gasped into each other as the waves of pleasure ebbed through them, laying utterly still as they knew nothing but each other and warmth. Carefully, Aesop wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and turned them onto their sides, limbs entangled and his manhood still resting deep inside her, not allowing a single drop of his seed to spill. Their eyes were closed blissfully, her head nestled into his chest with his arms encasing her protectively. It was done – she had chosen him, and he had chosen her, his duty now forever protecting and shielding the woman in his arms, a duty he would fill with all his honour. A duty, which, in due time, would be extended to life growing inside her – a life Aesop was looking forward to protecting with all he had.

"I love you," Aesop mumbled into the crown of her hair. "I love you most ardently. You are an incomparable gift, my love."

He felt her tears before he saw them, undue panic rising in his chest as he bade her to look at him. He held her cheek against his hand, warm and flushed after their proclivities.

"What is it, my love?" he asked in hushed tones. "Have I hurt you?"

"No," she shook her head. "No, you have not I –"

"Then please tell me what –"

"Nothing," she sobbed, a shy smile on her face as she burrowed herself into his hand. "I could have never thought these relations to be so... liberating."

"…liberating?" Aesop asked after a breath of silence. He did not understand.

"Yes," she nodded into his hand, before she smiled up at him. "My mother had told me that...when it happens, I should lie back and think of England. That I would have to endure until my husband had his heir. She did not mention that it could be… that it would be a mere hitch of pain before an endless field of pleasure."

His heart both shattered and thumped upon hearing her admission, his strokes against her back so soft and gentle, barely discernable if her wet and battered body was not as sensitive as it had been.

"You let me bed you thinking it would be something to endure?" he inquired, praying that he had heard – understood – wrong.

"Yes," she replied with no hesitation in her voice. "If it meant that you would father my children – our children – I would have endured a thousand times over. But…this?" Her cheeks glowed in the aftermath, unable to speak of their activities even after what had transpired. "This was nothing to endure."

"And you never have to endure it," Aesop resolutely told her, pressing a chaste kiss upon her lips. "I will not stand for it. This was your choice and yours alone. And should you ever –"

"Shhh," she gently interrupted him with a smile upon her lips. "I do not know what it felt like to you but to me? I do not believe a woman could ever be…happier. Or more loved."

Aesop returned her smile tiredly – relieved and triumphantly proud. "I do not believe a man could ever find more happiness either."

For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as his beloved lay in his arms, falling asleep, burrowed safely in his chest away from the world, having chosen him as he had chosen her, he truly could allow himself to dream of forever.

Aesop Sharp now knew that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him, the living proof of it in his strong arms.

113 notes · View notes