Drowning In The Depths

Drowning In The Depths

Hey, life has been busy and rough and I am so sorry it has taken this long but by god I have finally finished so I hope y'all enjoy

Part 13

Pairing: Price x Male!Reader

WC: 9.7k

Synopsis: A stressful flee home

Warnings: Blood but I think that's it

“I can’t do anything else, sir,” quiet words reached your ears as you neared a corner. “We need to leave. Now Price. We never should have stopped in the first place.” There was a slight pause just before the Scotsman continued in this one sided conversation, “The bullet in his abdomen never exited and the one in his thigh barely missed his femoral artery. I can patch up a wound or two but not…” Another pause succeeded in making the worry bubble back up, and so soon after you’d just put it to bed, “Not that.” The admission in Soap’s voice reverberated throughout the stairwell. There was nothing else they could do.

A thought to interrupt slid into your mind, to interject and offer whatever help that you could. No, they obviously wanted privacy and you were going to give it to them. You pressed against the wall of the hallway just beside the doorway, staying where you were just out of sight and therefore out of mind. 

They’d had to seek out the solitude of the stairwell to avoid the other team members, and though you weren’t sure exactly why they did at first, you were pretty sure you knew the reason for it now. Though they didn’t seem like the type of team to hide anything from one another, this was a bit different. If Konig had heard Soap talking like that you were almost certain the man would have lost it. No more operator and hello worried best friend who would do anything to protect Watcher.

You reached a hand down to the freshly rinsed fur, your fingers running gently over one of his ears as they continued their hushed conversation inside the stairwell. You could feel John’s concern from here but your blood ran a bit colder when he asked, “Can we even move him, Soap?” There was a tense silence that followed the question, neither daring to say anything for a second before one of them finally let out a breath and you imagined the shorter man giving the Brit an unsure shrug of his shoulders before the older man responded for him, “Dead if we do and dead if we don’t.” John’s hushed tone made your stomach sink, Watcher really was as fucked as you had been afraid of it would seem. Or at least he was on the fence enough that neither were comfortable with the potential outcome.

Soap answered quickly after that realization and you could imagine him nodding along as he did, “Aye sir. There’s nothing more that I can do here. Just keeping him comfortable for now. He’s gonna need another transfusion soon though and I’m out of my O negative. I can’t give anymore blood either, so we have to be fast before he bleeds out. And, you’re going to have to give him some of yours, Price.” You didn’t need to see them in order to picture a tense jaw and the storm in his eyes while his mind whirled, trying to come up with a solution.

You could picture it in your mind, his mustache flaring upwards as his mouth worked in that unique way you’d only ever seen him do. His upper lip not so much curling as it simply seemed to just lift before returning to its resting state. Broad, muscled shoulders undoubtedly tense as he remained unnervingly still in the shadows of the stairwell. Thoughts were whirling through his head at this point, you knew that from your own experiences leading a team. The worries and the potential roads never stopped. A constant circle to get lost in if you weren’t careful. You even found yourself, for a short moment, happy about the fact it wasn’t you that had to make the decision this time. The weight of responsibility had finally been lifted and you enjoyed it, no more tough calls for you.

John not only had to take into account Watcher’s life which hung in the balance, but also the rest of your lives. Hell you’d all been forced to stop the night before to tend to his wounds after he’d nearly bled out in the van with only Amaan’s hate-filled words to drown out the horrendous groans of pain that rattled around the enclosed walls. Though that might have been a bit unfair to Watcher, after all it hadn’t just been his unstoppable bleeding that had forced you to take shelter in the only safe place around that any of you knew. This was a complicated equation that not one team leader you’d ever met had truly wrapped their head around. It was hard to sacrifice a man you spent every day with, even for the good of the others.

And driving in the middle of the day you were sure as hell to hit a roadblock looking specifically for you and your team. Sure night in no way eliminated that possibility but it lessened it a great deal, especially nearly a whole day afterwards. Even if you were to hit a roadblock in the dark it would be easier to slip by unnoticed with tired guards and the darkness to hide the inconsistencies of your disguise. When Laswell had said they were set up on every road from here to the border last night it had been a no-brainer to stop in the one place the team was guaranteed safety at least for now. Especially when not even her and her team with their unlimited resources could find a way through the maze that had erected around you.

The real question being asked now though was whether John was ready to risk the rest of the team’s lives in addition to Watcher’s. The rest of you could have stayed holed up in this little, run down building for at least another week if you had needed to. There were enough rations to last you in here along with running water. But the kid was in a bad way, for him it was no longer an option. Either you all left now or he died before he ever really had a fighting chance to stay alive. A losing situation either way for John if things went south.

It was now the difference between a known fatality and a risk for more. An easy decision this would never be, but you already knew what you would do in this situation back when you still ran your own team. You also knew how the rest of the men you led would react in the face of this risk. To save one of the men who’d put their life in your hands you’d have moved heaven and earth to ensure you did everything you could to not let them go home to their families in a box. And there would have been no man on those teams who would have done any differently. That mentality was nurtured and honed from the minute you had signed up for the military and it still had yet to die.

Whether you were invested or distant, callous or passionate, these men quickly became the one thing in life you could rely on. They were your family. They were your friends. They were your brothers in everything but blood. John’s face filled your thoughts in that moment as another lingering thought whispered in your mind, they became your lovers.

Oh the things you knew you would have done for that damn Brit at this point. Moving heaven and earth couldn’t compare in the slightest to what you’d do for that man. He was a reason for dying. No Speck let’s be honest with yourself, he was so much more to you now. John was a reason for living. You were in far too deep for barely even knowing the man, but you didn’t need to know him to know how you felt about him. Fuck it, when did you ever take the safest option on the table? You were a SEAL for fucks sake. John had caught you like a fish; hook, line, and sinker.

Finally that guttural voice grabbed your attention again, snatching you back from the depths of your thoughts and throwing you into the present, “Get him ready to move, Soap. And go ahead and get a line ready, I’ll give you a bag just in case he needs it.” Soap didn’t say anything but you nearly immediately heard boots hitting the floor in the next couple of moments. You slipped back around the corner, pressing your back to the wall with Cerberus standing idly at your side. The young man turned out of the door and down the hall back to the main room and towards his patient, and you observed quietly as he went. Not once did the Scotsman’s focus waver from the objective he had been given. And you had no reason to distract him by making it obvious you’d heard nearly every word.

Neither man probably would have ever known you’d been there if John hadn’t stopped at the threshold to watch Soap heading back. Staying silent you listened as he took in a deep breath, there was worry etched in the way he stood, the way his head hung just a bit and you knew he was questioning himself. Not even John Price could be a Captain all the time. You slid around the corner silently just before his head slowly turned and he locked eyes with you. His brunette brows raised in question though not surprise, never surprise. Then you spoke softly, “I’d do the same.” Not much comfort coming from someone like you but it seemed that it was enough for him.

John’s dark brows lowered then and he gave a short nod before he stepped towards you. It was an instinct, a reaction you couldn’t help as the taller man pressed his body into yours and your arms locked around him. You almost didn’t know what to do, you certainly had no clue what to say. Just stay quiet, no need to ruin this with your inability to conjure the right, soothing words. His forehead laid against your shoulder as his arms squeezed your midsection. He pulled you impossibly closer as he took whatever comfort from you that he could, and both of you knew this would be the last physical intimacy you would be getting from one another for the foreseeable future. A last dose to tide you over until you got your next fix of one another.

Then just as suddenly as it had happened he was pulling himself away from you once more, his fingers dragging over your sides as the both of you regretted the loss of one another. Without a word he turned on his heel to head after Soap and vanished through the door at the end of the hall. It would seem the team needed to get ready to move, sooner rather than later. Time to get yours and Cerberus’ shit together and finish this thing strong. You couldn’t be a burden now, the team was already dragging around a helpless Watcher and that deadbeat Amaan, whatever you felt and however much guilt you were carrying was irrelevant now. Focus up and get it done.

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The van jostled the lot of you around in the back as y’all rode in a tense, unbroken silence. John was next to you stock still, it was like he’d forgotten he was alive instead of a marble statue. More than a few times you’d found yourself stealing a quick glance his way just to make sure he was still breathing as worry bubbled up inside of you. Meanwhile Ghost and Konig were across the narrow aisle, the latter leaning forward over Watcher’s resting body just as motionless as the man beside you was. 

Despite the hood across his face you could see the worry that had taken up residence in his expressive green eyes. His whole body seemed like you could have cut a single cord and he would have fallen to the ground in a heap of body parts. Konig’s gaze was focused solely on the young man who had been going in and out of consciousness for the past hour, showing more concern for him than you’d ever seen out of anyone before, of that you were almost certain. 

Gaz was stuck in the driver’s seat up front, disconnected from the rest of the group as he tried to get everyone home in one piece. Meanwhile the only other Scotsman on board was sitting between Ghost’s spread legs, all of you having to make the most of the space allotted to you which wasn’t much in this little closet-like cubby that had been carved out. Soap had taken the worst seat as he needed to be as close to Watcher as he could be, however you doubted proximity would have mattered much at this point. Not after you’d overheard Soap and John before you left the safehouse.

Darkness engulfed the road outside as the other Sergeant drove the lot of you back to base. So far you’d been lucky to avoid any of the roadblocks while Laswell, and whoever worked directly under her, secured the team a plane home once you got back. Another pothole shook the whole van and Watcher groaned out in pain at the sudden movement. Skinny, blood soaked fingers tried desperately to clutch at his wounds just before Soap guided them elsewhere, as much of a distraction as he could be.

Konig slid to the edge of his seat, his body going rigid as he watched the young man helplessly. There was nothing he could do, at least not right now. Y’all were in the middle of a warzone, it was a miracle he was still breathing, it was almost asking too much for him to make it through this if you were being honest. The tip of Konig’s boot slammed into yours, a slight shock of pain rattling up through your ankle and dissipating as it reached your knee. It wasn’t like you could move any further away though, not with Amaan snoozing and under sedation beneath yours and John’s feet. Konig physically couldn’t get closer no matter how much he wished to in that moment.

As Watcher’s face evened out and he settled down once more you all seemed to take a breath in unison that no one had even realized they were holding. Oh thank fuck he hadn’t erupted into some fit of searing pain, the bullet had to be agony inducing still stuck inside there. You could only imagine the pain if you were being honest. 

Slowly your gaze slid around and back to the small space between the front seats, watching Gaz’s lone form as best you could through the small slot. There was no telling how far you still had to drive at this point, it could have been hours or minutes and you would have been none the wiser. You still had no idea where the base was even located, though you could wager an educated guess. God how long had you spent out here? Too long you knew, but the days always seemed to mold together, turning into an immeasurable block of time that one day you were almost sure you would end up forgetting. That was if you made it that long anyway.

A heavy thwack against your leg broke you from where your gaze was stuck on the young man up front. Your eyes dropped to find the excitable dog as he inched closer to Watcher, as careful as any human would have been; it was like he knew how close the young man was getting to meeting his maker. Cerberus laid down with the gentleness of a much more intelligent creature, curling next to Watcher’s slender body as his nose gave a few cautious sniffs and he went still. 

Pale, bloody fingers slid away from where the blood was still leaking out from the bandage wrapped around them before they nearly disappeared in the thick fur and held tight onto the dog who was currently the only relief the poor young man could find. At least the Dutchie was a patient dog in the face of just about anything, and he was more than content to become Watcher’s caretaker at least for now. After all, anyone would be exhausted after this long with no down time and even Cerberus was no exception.

---------------

The border was inching ever closer now and the tension that had dissipated not so long ago was suddenly mounting once more, growing thicker with every second. There had been too much downtime now, too many hours spent stuck together in the heat of the van with the smell of iron so close that all of you could taste it. Y’all needed to do something and yet there was nothing that you could do.

Watcher was beginning to shift again and as all eyes shot to him you realized just how the rest of the team saw him. Not as a young man but instead they saw him as more of a child in need of protection than an actual operator, and the attention they paid him would end up getting them all killed one day if they weren’t careful. It was getting harder and harder to believe that they respected him seeing how protective they were in that moment, and you probably wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t been there when they had actually treated him like an adult. It was a weird combination of emotions everyone felt for him, however you’d seen it before, even in your own teams back in the day. Everyone protected the new guy as best they could even while they hazed the hell outta him and gave him hell any other time of the day

“Oh fuck,” the voice from the front seat almost startled you just as it did everyone else, their attention turning simultaneously from Watcher and instead towards the front of the van in search of the culprit. John, who had been sleeping lightly next to you, immediately stood up and stepped over Amaan’s body to lean towards the front of the van so that he could peek through the small opening between the seats. Your view was blocked but you could see him glance out the windshield before the man in the driver’s seat muttered, “Slight problem up here Cap. There’s a roadblock,” you leaned up in your own seat then to glance out the front window as well as you looked around John’s broad form as best you could, investigating the sight of flashing lights.

A line of cars had been stopped on the road and you had about four car lengths to figure out how to not get caught running an op on foreign soil- you could only assume without permission- with a man near death and another sedated into oblivion. You could hear Gaz tapping his finger nervously against the steering wheel and glancing back at you and John as subtly as he could. With Gaz at the wheel you all knew full well there was no way of making it through this damn roadblock unscathed. It had nothing to do with his skill; he simply didn’t speak the local dialects…You did.

The man who had been on idle next to you for the last few hours was spouting orders in a heartbeat, directing the flow of traffic like a pro. “Trade places with Speck. Now, Gaz, move it.” There was an urgency in his voice that you hadn’t heard since the mission the day before. Your head whipped around nearly immediately as the other man in the front waited till none of the guards were watching and then threw the van in park. He tumbled through the small slot in the van and into the little cubby you had been afforded as he slid onto the bench next to Ghost and then suddenly all eyes were on you.

It was dark outside now so at least most of your movements were covered by the shadows of the night. With darkness hiding the chaos currently unfolding in this already too small space. John was tearing into one of the bags thrown in the corner just as quickly as he’d started shouting orders, pulling out clothes that you quickly recognized as Watcher’s. Well fuck. He tossed you the taqiyah and thobe the ginger usually kept for when y'all were driving, especially over the borders. Your eyes shot between the clothes now in your hand and the brunette who’d given them to you.  It was no secret you were a great deal bigger than the young man, hell Soap had a better chance at fitting in them than you did. The unwavering gaze that stared back at you apparently meant that he didn’t give two shits though. This was the expectation and lord you were gonna have to deal with the lot you’d been given.

A quiet curse escaped your lips before you started pulling the long thobe over your head, maneuvering your shoulders carefully inside the suffocating fabric before you reached up to affix the taqiyah as well. You could barely lift your arm, feeling the fabric tighten dangerously around the muscle of your shoulder, and damn how skinny was this kid? It felt like you were holding in your gut for dear life, had you really put on that much weight recently?

The thobe was much too short and clung to your chest and shoulders like a straight jacket, feeling more like a corset that was trying to reshape the proportions of your body than the loose fitting piece of modest clothes it was supposed to be. Good lord how were you gonna pass this shit off to a bunch of a men who knew what it was actually supposed to look like. Role or not this was gonna be a difficult one to pass off, and you weren’t entirely sure you were going to be able to do it. The whole thing was too rushed, there was too much riding on your shoulders and it’d been too long since someone had relied on you like this. Fuck it though, it was time to play the ill dressed cargo van driver who had no business being out in the middle of the night trying to cross borders. Lovely.

Glancing down at Cerberus you gave a quiet command of, “Bleib,” afterall the last thing you needed was him trying to follow you into the front and causing a scene. Unclipping the lead from your belt you handed it off to John quickly, undoubtedly running out of time now. Peeking between the seats into the front you took a quick glance at the men, making sure they weren’t paying attention before you hopped through and into the driver’s seat, throwing the van back into gear as you rolled forward in the queue.

You could feel the eyes on the back of your neck as you forced your gaze to remain dutifully on the road, suppressing the nervous glances you wanted to throw behind you. Complete silence had fallen over the men in the back, even Watcher’s groans had hushed completely now as the severity of the situation seemed to bleed into every aspect of this oncoming confrontation. The only sound that you could hear was John as he mumbled something about the false wall behind you. Then there was the sound of something opening before it clicked securely back into place again. What in the hell were they doing back there? The question itched at the back of your mind as you struggled to keep yourself from looking behind, human curiosity in a situation like this could absolutely get you all killed.

Everything went silent again for a few more moments before the separator between the front and the back closed and you were completely alone. The hot, suffocating cubby completely cut off from you now, and yet the air out here was choking you more than the close quarters behind you had. It was as if you were back to that one man show you’d been so used to lately, and not a single part of you wanted to be there anymore.

Lifting your foot off the brake slowly, you listened as they squealed with protest at the movement, trying to refuse your request to roll forward. Too bad though, there was shit to do. Besides, it wasn't like you actually had a choice as the van continued to roll forward in the queue. Uniformed guards loitered around the roadblock seemingly devoid of sound as their attention shifted completely to the van. Your mind ran through the infinite list of dialects the man was about to throw at you, it of course had to be one you knew. They weren’t about to sit someone at the border without having someone they knew could communicate with everyone who came through here…Right?

One of the men, with his rifle on his shoulder and a frown set firmly on his mouth, made his way over to you. He lifted his hand and signaled to the window which you were quick to comply with as you rolled the window down and sent a prayer up to the God your mother had always told you was real. You’d do anything to just let this go smoothly, anything at all. Please God just don’t let us get thrown in some jail or get shot up in the back of this van. Just go smoothly.

The man was eyeing you carefully as he approached, words rolling off his tongue that you didn’t quite understand. There was a semblance to the languages you knew but it just didn’t make sense so you shook your head and his cautious gaze started to turn to suspicion as he asked in Farsi, “You can understand now?” You nodded in answer before he continued his line of questioning, “Where are you headed?” And so the game began, and you felt yourself beginning to relax into this. Enjoying it even.

Where the hell were you? On the road from Zabol to somewhere south of that. Just say a city, any city south of Zabol, Speck. Easy, “Zahedan,” you answered him and in turn earned the attention of another narrow eyed guard as the men inched closer. The car in front of you rolled off past the rest of the guards as they moved on from the checkpoint and drove off into the night. It was just you now, truly alone and with all the attention focused on what you were determined to make a masterful performance. 

You could feel eyes as they traveled down your neck, fixing to the sight of the tight thobe around your shoulders and chest as he inspected you or at least he tried to, part of the darkness was still hiding the bits of you that didn’t quite make sense. His hand moved down to his hip and for a moment your hand tightened on the wheel, a flash of fear that he was about to pull a pistol on you despite the rifle still resting against his shoulder. And before you could even truly react a beam of light leveled at your face and blinded you for a moment.

The guard flicked the beam towards the rear end of the van before giving you an order that left no room for interpretation, “Unlock the back. We need to inspect what you’re transporting.” Immediately your hand moved to the button and the locks clicked, ‘Please have y’alls shit together, John. Please, please, please, please, please,’ a muffled noise came from just around your shoulder and you resisted the urge to look back. You wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway and it would only make you look even more suspicious than you already did. 

“What is your business in Zahedan, Mr…?” He left the end of the question open as he continued to fix that narrow eyed gaze upon you. The beam of light blinding you as he kept it leveled at your eyes. Jesus man, you’d think he could at least let you see. 

However you gave him as pleasant a smile as you could manage even though it was still tinged with a bit of annoyance, afterall who wouldn’t be, and answered as quickly as you could, “I’m just transporting some goods for the market there, sir. My boss needs it there by morning, it was a late order by one of the stall owners,” you glanced in the side mirror towards the back watching one guard disappear around the open doors.

A couple heavy bodies hopped inside, shaking the van as they moved objects around in the back. Their muffled voices came through the thin walls of the van as they inspected the pointless boxes in the back. Nothing they did though could compare to the way the van rocked violently and something shattered as you heard the contents of a stack of crates dump out and across the floor of the van.

The reaction you had was almost as genuine as it appeared. Your brows began to furrow and you gave the man at the window a look of indignance as you began to shift in your seat, even going so far as to curl your lip up. There were only a couple more seconds that you could take of the crates crashing down behind you and the goods spilling out. The threshold had been met and you scoffed and turned in the seat, your voice raising in what could have only been worry and stress, “Come on really? You cannot just break everything back there because you want to, I have a job to do and a boss to report to, same as you man.”

Dark eyes shot back to your face and you immediately flitted your own gaze away feigning submission to what was, in reality, one of the highest authorities you would have known. Sure you could be exasperated and frustrated with the way they searched the van but the last thing you needed was to bring about your own personal demise because you wanted to get all high and mighty now. Another crash and the muscles of your back tightened, your shoulder blades coming together as you bit the inside of your cheeks and remained as still as possible, still avoiding the eyes of the men currently standing outside your window.

Just keep acting normal Speck, as long as everything stayed quiet back there and they didn’t find the little latch you had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. You’d sail right on through this roadblock and be home in time for supper...Or really you'd be in time to save the young Scotsman currently fighting for every second of his slowly pumping heartbeats just behind you. After all, wasn't that all that really mattered right now?

The eyes of the man continued to bore into what felt like your very soul, and all you could do was refuse to stare back. You had to keep your head down and remain unremarkable for the sake of all of your lives. Being memorable, a “hero” was how people died and you were all too aware of that fact. Staying out of the way was your specialty, and you’d been doing it as long as you could remember. Much longer than you were willing to admit to anyone. 

So keep it together, shoulder the burden for the good of the many. It was the only way you knew really. A hollow knock sounded behind you. Echoing through the cab of the van and amplifying, loud enough for even the man standing outside your window to hear. Out of the corner of your eye you saw his head tilt in…Confusion? Curiosity? Suspicion? Your hands tightened on the wheel as you fought to keep the moment of pure panic out of your facial expressions. Even a bit of fear slithering its way into this instinct driven part of your mind, ‘Do not turn around, turn around and they’ll know something is wrong. Eyes ahead and act normal. Do not turn around, Speck.’ 

The man at the window pursed his lips, still eyeing you carefully as he took another step closer and insisted, “I need a name.” A name? The fuck was a name? Your name? No, your name would get you killed. Fucking hell, why was it always something. Just gotta be on some other shit today, huh? Always gotta be something in this damn job, always fuckin somethin.

He wanted a name? Couldn’t live without one? Fine. Fuck it. “Kareem Abdul-Jabbar,” your eyes lifted to find a face absent of anything. Even the man behind him was quiet as they both stared at you with slowly narrowing eyes. Were you fucking stupid Speck? Jesus christ. That’s what you decided to go with? Anxiety prickled over your skin, raising goosebumps across the back of your neck and along your forearms. The already too tight thobe suddenly felt that much more tight, a vice around your body like a corset as it tried to cut off your dwindling supply of oxygen.

The commander, or the man who you assumed to be the commander, gestured with a flick of his chin to the man standing behind him. The pen in his hand scribbled quickly, and you followed the movements silently wishing you could read the movements of the pen and nervous that you would stick too readily in their minds. That they would remember this and you, that if anything went wrong you would be the first person they would point to. Then again did it really even matter? You should be long gone from this hellscape by the time they even turn that damn ledger in.

The van shook, rocked back and forth on its worn out shocks once and then twice. Muffled voices spoke what seemed so far away and yet like they were right over your shoulder. Discussing what though? What could they possibly have been saying? Was it about you? Had they found the latch and the rest of the team? What could you do even if they had? Question after question after question rattled around in your mind without a single answer even daring to try and enter. And then as quickly as they had begun they were cut off with the slamming of one door and then the next. Only a single thought remained, ‘Holy shit we actually did it.’

The commander glanced at the guard behind him who nodded and then looked to the men at the rear of the van. Again the voices reached your ears though they were devoid of meaning. Either a language you didn’t know or too quiet for you to truly make out. Slowly you turned your eyes from the road and the steering wheel in front of you to find the face of the Commander. In one quick movement the man turned back to you and nodded, “You’re free to go.” The tension in your back released immediately as you reached for the gear shift.

Throwing the van into gear you tossed the commander a quick nod, not bothering with a smile, hell the man had basically allowed the entirety of the back to be destroyed. He turned to look at the men blocking the road in front of you, illuminated by the headlights, and waved his hand yelling an order at them in another language you didn’t know. They were quick to lift the gate, following their orders, as you rolled forward slowly through the now opened blockade. The sounds of the tires over the asphalt crackling in your ears in a satisfying sound before you rolled the window back up.

Continuing on down the road you finally glanced in the mirror, watching the lights of the blockade disappearing behind the hills as you went. “Well that was fuckin close,” you muttered mostly to yourself, almost forgetting that there were a group of men separated by less than an inch of metal right behind your shoulder. The panel opened the moment you spoke and you glanced back to find an ocean blue gaze staring back at you, darkness surrounding him like a shroud. You were lost in those features for a moment, unable to pull away as your world whittled away to brunette locks and a full beard perfectly kept and straight out of the 70s.

At least until a huge gasp of air came from behind him and the both of you seemed to be shocked from your reverie. His dark brows knitted together and yours quickly followed suit in worried confusion. “What happened, what’s wrong?” Your question broke the assumed silence of voices, though as much as you needed to look behind you, you forced your eyes back to the road ahead. After all if you drove the van off into the ditch what would be the point of getting through that check point back there.

The Captain slid back into his seat before he glanced across the small space to the men on the other side. Muffled noises echoed around behind you, bouncing off the walls before they made their way to your ears. Someone was struggling. It wasn’t until John finally turned to find your gaze again that he shook his head as if to say absolutely nothing was wrong, it took only a second longer of your hardened gaze in the rearview mirror before he finally gave you a real answer, “The sedative wore off. Ghost took care of it.” You gave a slow nod in response and pulled over onto the shoulder of the road slowly, checking the mirrors to make sure there were no headlights headed your way.

You threw the van into park before you turned in your seat to look into the back and finally satisfy your curiosity. Gaz sat on the edge of his seat ready to slip through and take the wheel back and so the two of you did, trading places in a less than graceful motion as Gaz got the lot of you back on the road. The taqiyah was off your head in a moment before you handed it off to John and were forced to catch yourself against his shoulder as the van lurched forward unsteadily. A warm hand wrapped around your wrist and another caught against your hip as he instinctively reached to steady you, blue eyes traveling up to your face with raised brown eyebrows resting just above them.

Warmth flooded into your face and you tensed at his touch even though you wished you could melt into him, thank him with a smile on your face. That wasn’t a possibility though, there were too many eyes on y’all right now. So instead you pulled away, untangling yourself from his grasp as you huffed out a quick, deflecting comment, “Good Lord this thobe is tight. Thought the seams were gonna pop before we got through that damn blockade. Hell felt like I couldn’t breathe in the damn thing.” You pulled at the hem feeling it catch under your arms as you tried to wriggle your way out of it. You couldn’t manage to get it off though as your elbows caught in the fabric and you froze, your shoulders moving painfully one way and then the other and yet still you remained frozen in this awkward shuffle of limbs.

Shit. Once again you made a subtle attempt to free yourself, shifting your shoulders and pinching at the fabric where you could just barely reach it before a defeated sigh left what had to be the very depths of your soul. You had to have looked like a big child standing there with your arms stuck above your head and fingers reaching desperately for an unattainable fabric, unable to even push it back down so you could just pretend like nothing happened. Another moment of dead silence passed and as your fingers began tingling ever so slightly you dropped them to the back of your head in defeat. Your elbows were still held aloft, pinched together painfully as you stared into the white fabric stuck around your head, arms, and chest like a binding. “Well…” You said aloud, following it quickly with a single declaration, “Shit.”

Soap’s laugh was nearly immediate, the escaping near giggles edging on becoming wheezes. You could imagine all the eyes that were probably staring at your hogtied form in the long, ankle-length thobe, and you could feel heat rising in your face and not the kind you had started to enjoy. Embarrassment welled up in your and you swore you even heard Konig let out a quiet murmur of amusement accompanied by the Lieutenant and Captain’s quiet snickering as they looked at your helpless visage in the near complete darkness of the little space. The only thing that made it all worth it was the small giggle of laughter you just barely caught from Watcher somewhere below you, hell you couldn’t see a damn thing around you but that little laugh just suddenly made the whole experience worth it.

A couple seconds of gawking at you and the quiet laughing before strong hands grabbed at your upper arms and you quickly lifted your hands back up in response. As your arms straightened the fabric drug across your skin, and as the collar stuck underneath your chin you shut your eyes and pulled free. It took a few blinks before your eyes readjusted to the dim light only to look back up at the smirking face of John Price who was already balling the fabric back up in order to shove it back into the bag he’d retrieved it from originally.

You couldn’t help but to follow his form for a few moments, eyes trailing over his features before you managed to tear your gaze away and find the others that were still left in the back. Ghost had Amaan shoved underneath his and Konig's legs underneath the makeshift wooden bench passed out once more, either from the big man choking him out or another sedative you weren’t completely sure though you doubted there was any sedative left. At least he seemed to be making a comfortable seat for Soap who was still sitting between Ghost’s knees so he had easy access to the young man who was taking shaky breath after shaky breath.

You situated yourself carefully back where you had been forced to vacate earlier as Gaz continued what now had to be a frantic drive back to base. "See,” you began as you leaned forward on one knee, “Yall are laughing now but I ain't heard not one of ya laughing when I was saving your asses five minutes ago from becoming POWs. Not a single peep," Soap had tears forming in his eyes as his quiet giggles turned slowly into silent wheezes. A quick glance around and you caught Gaz red handed with his phone resting on the steering wheel as it played the sight of you trying to get out of the thobe on repeat while somehow he was still managing to drive. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

Ghost, the last man you would have imagined would throw even more wood on this fire, was the first one to come back with a quick remark, "What the fuck does 'ain't' mean?" He did his best impression of an American accent, failing rather miserably as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting just above the short dark hair of his partner. Eyes were watching you with what you were almost positive was amusement though sadly it was covered up easily by the darkness that still enveloped the lot of you, not to mention the mask that still shrouded every feature but those striking eyes.

The question struck you like every mocking comment of your accent and where you were from had. Reaching up you pulled on your tac vest that John proffered you and began fumbling with the buckles, you shot him a quick glare and lifted your chin just before you did the same with your middle finger as you feigned anger, "Means fuck off skullface, how bout that?" He gave a light chuckle under his mask and you saw his head shake in the darkness as he leaned back once more, huge arms crossing over his chest. The big man wasn't the most talkative but at least he knew how to joke around, a worry you had been carrying up until this point.

Everything began to settle shortly after that, the giggles dying and the whispered comments quieting. Soap sobered back up as he went back to tending to Watcher the best he could, the latter grimacing as he searched for something to grab hold of with his free hand, the team’s medic packing his wounds with a fresh set of gauze and wrapping them up with bandages. The last bandages he was quick to inform the Captain about. Watcher’s lithe fingers tangled into Cerberus’ fur once again, and you watched as the dog seemed to settle in the attention while the corner of your mouth turned up in a small smile.

Gaz sat quietly in the front seat as he drove now, his phone long forgotten along with the video of your quiet struggling. In the meantime Konig had resumed his quiet vigil with his elbows resting on his thighs once more and the worry obvious in his taut frame and the way his leg bounced. As it always seemed to, your attention returned to the Brit who had found his place beside you once more.

You half-expected to see him watching Gaz in the front seat and helping to keep an eye on the road. Or at the very least watching the youngest Scot as he had the whole ride before now, as most of you had succumbed to doing since you’d loaded him into this van. Instead though he was sitting with his rifle laying across the top of his thighs, his hands holding it steady. That gaze though, those ocean hues were focused solely on you. The heat of it was pouring into you, raging like an inferno as it warmed your otherwise frozen limbs.

A quick dart of your gaze down to his lips and before you could return it to his eyes they had shifted just as he did next to you. His legs spread a bit wider and his knee knocked against yours, his gloved fingers sliding over the gun as he situated himself more comfortably on his seat. John’s warning was silent but clear and you were quick to acquiesce, turning your eyes away to find something else to distract your thoughts. The other men avoided looking at the both of you. Soap was much too busy, Konig much too worried, and Ghost just finding the idea of eye contact in such an enclosed space awkward at this point probably.

The rest of the drive seemed to inch along at a snail’s pace as the last of Soap’s blood bags began to run dry. No one else was able to give blood and so the countdown had begun on how long the boy truly had left. The smell of bloody bandages permeated the entirety of the enclosed space now and choked you in its distaste. It clogged your senses in the suffocating smell, churning your stomach with its odor. It was not quite metallic, not with this much coming from the cavity of his stomach. This smelt almost rotten in comparison. There was an itch to gag tickling at the back of your throat that you were fighting to suppress. It was taking every fiber of control not to let your nose wrinkle at the odor of all these men, and the blood, and the dog mingling together like the beginning of a terrible joke.

Overwhelmed. It was the only word that came to mind as to how you felt right now. You were losing yourself in the way it felt, the way the silence of the van’s small space dampened every sound as if Watcher were already dead. Even the smells seemed to think so. Your eyes slid down quickly to his hand still grasping desperately at Cerberus’ fur and the pain written on the young man’s face. Not dead. Not yet at least. He was certainly getting there though if Gaz didn’t hurry the hell up. You’d lost track of the time but you could see the first rays of light now coming through the front windshield.

Soon, you had to make it there soon. Right? Watcher had long since lost consciousness, his breaths coming shallow and shaky in slower and slower succession. You should have been there. He shouldn’t have breached that room at all, you had just taken too long with that woman and her child. It was always the children that gave you pause. Their wide eyed stares cut too deep and struck too hard. Watcher should be sitting where you were. Why was it always someone else paying for your incompetencies?

Brakes squealed and the van locked down, throwing the lot of you nearly off your seats. All except for Price who was on his feet before you knew what was happening while Ghost quickly followed suit. Your eyes darted back and forth between them as you stood hurriedly, searching their gazes for some kind of order. They all seemed to know what to do next without even speaking, meanwhile you were kept out of the loop. Completely disconnected from this hivemind they all seemed to have slipped into. A routine?

The back of the van opened sending a cascade of light into your eyes just as Laswell’s voice cut through the silence finally, “Let’s go boys, Feea already has everything ready to go. And Wade has the plane loaded, let’s be quick now.” Everything was already happening though, she had no need to ‘get them moving’. Quicker than you thought any of them could manage it, the men in front of you were tossing bags from one set of hands to the other. From John, to Gaz who was now at the tail end of the van, and up the ramp to the waiting blonde vampire you’d nearly killed however many days ago that was now.

Engines roared on the runway in front of you, ready to take off whether yall made it on or not from what you could see. What the fuck kind of operation was this? You’d heard stories of Price, you’d heard stories of the 1-4-1, but to have such ease in finding a plane home without all the paperwork? They just had planes and runways and whatever they needed at their disposal whenever and wherever they needed it to be. You wish you had that kind of pull, you wouldn’t have been in that market about to get yourself blown to high hell if you’d had that kind of pull.

John didn’t spare a glance over his shoulder as he headed out of the van, stepping down it looked like versus hopping out. Konig and Ghost had already knelt down to grab Watcher underneath his arms and knees as Soap shouted out something to Wade about supplies and such he needed for the boy. They had the young man out of the van before you even had a chance to react as Soap followed the both of them. Gaz hopped into the van then, reaching down to gather the Amaan’s limbs before he hauled him up as if he weighed nothing.

This was the end of it then. They were off to wherever the fuck, rest a recoup until their next orders were received and then they’d be off again. Of course this was the end of things, you’d gotten Amaan and that was the only reason John and his team were here to begin with. And now you would be back to living your life, whatever that meant anyway. You had no job, no orders, and no way to get back home. There was no life or money, but that was neither here nor there you’d figure it out eventually.

Cerberus was still laying down where he’d been as Watcher’s company. “Fuss,” you muttered and watched as the dog rose slowly, it was unlike him to be so…downtrodden? A bit of concern touched your thoughts until you realized just how long it’d been since he’d properly rested. Probably just tired, hell you were you suddenly realized as you stepped down out of the van with your gun still slung over your shoulder. You stretched out your abused body, weary from the traveling and the fighting. Your bones ached and seemed to creak with every movement, your muscles and joints screaming and pleading for mercy only to find none. Not even your mind would find a merciful quietness here.

John had forced himself into your life and wrecked you completely, body, mind, and soul. You hadn’t even been sure you had a soul until you’d met him. Now he was about to disappear from it again, just as quickly as he’d appeared in it. There and then gone at the drop of a hat to leave you wanting for more. Always wanting. Your eyes darted into the dark interior of the plane as you tilted backwards. Weariness had finally won over as your knees buckled against the bumper of the van and you took a heavy seat.

God you were tired. There was nothing left to give. The tank was empty as they say. Even Cerberus had spent every last bit of energy he had at this point. Non-stop working had that effect on everyone, dogs were no exception, not even him. Your fingers found themselves in the thick fur of his neck as he sat staring ahead just as you did, watching as Wade loaded the last of the team’s supplies onto the plane. The roar of its engines deafening as you witnessed the departure of yet another chapter of your life. Though you had to admit it was probably one of the happiest chapters, even if it was one of the shortest.

It was time to disappear back into the frays of society. Become the man who other people looked over with glazed eyes, as if you weren’t even really there. A shadow in their memories when someone tried to ask them what you looked like and the best answer they could give them was, ‘He was just a man.’ For a minute there you’d been memorable though, had a taste of what it was like to be seen by one of the…No not one of the, there was only one John Price. He and his team were gonna be hard to move on from, him most of all.

Your eyes slid down to the dog sitting beside your knee then, running the tips of your fingers over the top of his head to ground yourself before you stood. Casting a last long glance up at the plane you were done, ready to walk away. As ready as you’d ever be anyway. Prepared to free these men of the curse that hung around you like death’s shrouded veil, one that had already struck poor Watcher.

He saw you. Of course he did, he had since those nights in the bar. He saw everything, for Christ's sake it was his job. Blue eyes pierced you through the heart from the top of the plane’s ramp as the two of you remained completely still. For once you weren’t nestled into the background of a painting barely warranting a single stroke of the brush. To him you were the artist’s whole subject, the one thing they had set out to capture. The one thing John had set out to capture.

There was one thing that man didn’t need to do though, he’d had you from the first day you saw him and not even you had known it then. He was your everything and it didn’t matter about anything else in life because he was all you needed. Hell he was all that you wanted.

You watched as he jerked his chin, beckoning you silently with both his eyes and his actions. The man before you didn’t need words, it wasn’t like either of you were poets with them anyway. It was as if the exhaustion and weariness in your body dissipated the moment he was back in your line of sight.

Pushing yourself off the bumper of the van you started forward, watching the corner of his mouth turn up in the smallest of smirks. He turned back inside the plane as you started up the ramp. You crested the top of the ramp Cerberus at your side and the moment you did it began to close behind you, the sound harsh on your ears and even worse than the engines in your opinion.

He had been waiting for you. An unexpected yet welcome thought, John had wanted you to come just as much as you’d been begging to follow. You slid past Wade with a satisfied glint in your eyes, barely glancing at him for a moment as he secured everything under cargo nets. Crossing over the empty space of the plane you made your way towards the rest of the team, stopped only by someone clearing their throat beside you.

Your focus darted to the perpetrator and you took in the blonde woman staring back at you. Confident and above you, above everyone to be fair, it was safer for her that way and so much easier. That was something you could understand. “Ma’am?” Your drawl slipped into the word as you watched her, your brows drawing closer together in your confusion as to why she would want your attention.

Laswell’s face remained stubbornly neutral as she looked the two of you over, a man and his dog. As normal as it got, just about anywhere in the world you would find similar combinations. The most memorable thing about you was Cerberus but even he could blend in under the right circumstances. “I have an opportunity for you, Speck. If you’re interested anyway.” Slowly you gave a nod, hesitating only a moment before you remembered if it involved her that it probably would involve John as well. “Good, how would you like a job?”

“'TILL WE SEE STARS” ── zane phillips, nico greetham, drew starkey, taylor zakhar perez, tom holland, and oliver stark x male reader.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓— fic [ 14.7k ] 〳 part one 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒—male reader〳make sure to read part one!〳established relationship 〳 collage!au 〳jealous!zane 〳 sexual content; everyone is a top, bottom!reader, cum dumpster!reader, double penetration, gang bang, rough!sex, kissing, spitting, breeding, cumplay, bukkake, blowjobs, handjobs, praising, body worshipping, lots and lots of filthy sex!

You didn’t notice right away.

In your defense, Zane had always been exceptionally distracting, and that would only become harder to refute since you’d been something to him.

Rephrase that—someone.

Someone special, someone of importance, someone that meant something.

You’ve had doubts. Who wouldn’t when even your own friends looked at you with such bewilderment upon introducing him to the small group. Nerds and Jocks don’t mix; a childish verity you and your friends held with high regard since being hit in the face with a ball happened one too many times to brush those instances off as mere coincidences. That, and your snickering high school classmates would since provide you a whole new perspective on that matter.

But you went on to prove your friends wrong, prove that your doubts were meager tricks that only persisted to keep you from exploring out of your comfort zone—from living life to its fullest possibilities. The house that had once shielded you from all cruelties the world and its inhabitants brought with them began to crumble from its residence on a clifftop. Parts that made up the foundation sacrificed themselves in pursuit to bring you home. Wood, stone, red bricks; they catapulted into the ocean, swam on the surface, floated for air, and dived in the deep sea. Farther and farther, they searched for you, hopeful for any signs of life that signaled for your immediate rescue.

Instead, what they found was baffling.

It was you, but it wasn’t you at the same time. Something changed—this growing assurance in your disposition, holding onto a man, large and more than capable to protect, a threat to the house that had kept you safe since birth.

Betrayal, what happened to my son? My boy? My sweet boy?

You could hear the rage in their authoritative voice, but you’ve grown to realize their awful cadence had only been a tactic for you to come back—come back to them—to scare you into being the perfect boy they’ve raised you to be.

Every kiss from the man ignited a fire within you. He forged you with strength, with fortification, with affection—and you uttered a strong defiance, then watched the foundation disintegrate before your very eyes, piece by piece.

***

There was always so much care in Zane’s palms, yet he’d proven you to be exceptionally attentive when he was upset. Like he was trying to persuade you from deviating too far into his worries.

It was embarrassing to admit how long it took for you to piece it altogether—why he was often in a mood, or why he was adamant in making you stay the night at his apartment. You never pondered about it for too long as it never amounted to much. All it took was a night in his bed, watching his favorite shows, kissing and fondling to take his mind off of what was festering inside, and everything returned back to normal. A stressful day at work or practice, you’d reckon as you watched him sleep on your chest, his gentle snores beckoning you to your slumber.

But you began noticing a pattern. It happened every Thursday and Friday. You’d come to his place after tutoring, and he would greet you by the entrance with the most fulfilling kiss. Grappled by his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest, and your lips raptured by his.

“Well, greetings to you too! I brought dinner.”

“That can wait… I missed you,” he would say before swooping you off your feet and fleeing with you into his bedroom.

At the least provocation, he’d proven all too willing to lick into your mouth and shove his greedy hands beneath your shirt. It was a growing tendency that you weren’t inclined to draw to a close because frankly—there was nothing to complain about, other than the cold takeout.

As observant as you usually were, you blamed yourself for not puzzling Zane’s growing possessiveness to your tutoring sooner.

Or maybe you were turning a blind eye, because you anticipated the magnificent nights he’d bestow on you. On those nights, Zane was especially keen to make you take all of him—every inch, every seed, every feeling.

“Swallow it all. I don’t want to see a drop left, baby.” “M-mmfngh—“

All in all, it was beginning to become clear that those days were bothering him. You could feel the tension in the air, the heaviness in your gut as Zane swelled inside of you for the second time of the night, two days in a row.

It was beyond the fact that you tutored—he was fine with that.

It was who you were tutoring.

On Thursdays, you could feel his delusional need to investigate who’d been in your mouth. Tom? Oliver? Taylor? He would suckle on your tongue until you reeled back for a breath, and even then, he wouldn’t stop licking into your mouth.

On Fridays, his hands wouldn’t leave your body. They covertly searched high and low, back to front, squeezing, pulling, roaming, pushing, for any marks, for any evidence of Nico’s presence, of Drew’s marks—but the only blemishes were Zane’s from the day before. A love bite to your neck, and another one to the left of your hip bone.

No one.

You both knew it was the truth—your loyalty to him, but Zane was a madman who was being fed with delusions beyond your control, and in turn, it gifted you the most passionate lover only you could’ve fantasized in novels.

“Oh, g-god. Right there. Don’t go faster, Zane. Don’t slow down. Just like that—“ “Yeah? You like my cock wrecking your pretty hole? Just. Like. That?”

***

“Would it make you feel better if you were with me?” you mentioned out of the blue, the show you two had been watching finally rolled the credits.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Zane averted his gaze toward you, blindly reaching for the remote and switching the TV off. Then, he pulled you closer into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. His nose buzzed with delight at the scent of your shampoo.

“Well…” he watched you ponder—your gaze avoidant and wandering unlike the abrupt tension he felt in your body. He opened his arm out of concern, allowing you to properly gather yourself with the newfound space. You sat up and resumed explaining carefully, “I know you don’t like it when I’m… with your friends—alone. Embarrassingly enough, it just hit me—and… well, you seem off these days. And I think it’s because of that.”

It was like being caught in a lie. Not one of those major ones that Zane knew he would commit from beginning to end, but a white lie—a vaulted truth to spare your feelings, even if it meant that it was festering and poisoning him on the inside.

It was an unspoken promise. A natural response. A firm conviction that he should bear your troubles and worries in solitude.

After all, he was your boyfriend, your protector.

“What? Babe—no, what? Have I been acting different? I don’t know. I guess work’s gotten busier, so I guess that could explain…” He was teetering on the edge of revelation or secrecy, stammering until he was one step away from falling.

Zane was never a great liar.

“Come on. You can be honest. Is it because you don’t trust me? Because we study at the library and—“

“No, I absolutely trust you. Don’t say that.”

“I mean, it’s probably weird for me to be hanging out with them—in a way. It makes sense that you’d want to be there, so I get it if you feel hurt or disappointed or—“

“Babe, it’s not—“

“They’re your friends, not mine. I mean, I don’t think they see me as a friend anyway? I’m their tutor, and that’s how it should be…”

“(M/N), wait a second—“

Your hands were theatrical. Grandiose. If you had a symphony playing with you, they’d be performing with fervor, sweating until the grasp on their instruments had slipped at the nearing crescendo, and the audience would gasp altogether to fill the void of abrupt silence.

“I promise, Zane. All I do is give them assignments, like I did with you—well, not like I did with you. We were a little different, weren’t we… but with them? I-it’s like how I tutor everyone else and…!“

You suddenly stood up from the couch, clearly exasperated by the lack of words that could properly support your claims.

“Hey, hey…” he quelled you with a gentle tug to your hand, silently urging you back to his side with a consoling grin. You huffed, sucking in what he could presume to be more self-destructing words, and dramatically let the tension on your shoulders push your body onto his lap.

It wasn’t the right moment to notice, but would you kill him if he felt more inclined to annoy you in the future if this was how charming you always looked? The answer would probably be no. You had a tendency to forgive—a little too easily.

“Then what’s wrong? Is it my fault? Over-cooked your chicken? Ate your protein bar without asking? Got a stain on your hoodie, but I think I washed it out…?” Frowning, you stared back up at him through your eyelashes, chin sunken to your chest, and completely hopeless.

For a moment, he was speechless. It always took one glance from you for Zane to lose his train of thought. Even when you felt all kinds of emotions, there was still that glint in your eyes that never failed to make his heart feel like it was about to burst.

“Kinda is your fault. I mean, if you hadn’t been born with that handsome face of yours, or been blessed with brains and kindness, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Be serious!” Zane felt your body tense up again. You were about to pull yourself off his lap before he rested a hand to your chest and gently pushed you back. “So, there is a problem…”

“It’s my problem, (M/N),” he began soothing your chest in small circles. The cotton soft in his palm before it was inevitably delighted with the firmness of your chest when he slipped a hand under your shirt, resuming his caress.

“I might not have a lot of experience in dating, but I’ve watched a lot of films to know that partners help each other when either one of them have a problem.”

Guilt was quickly catching up to him. Zane could feel its presence looming over his head. Like smog, heavy and thick, and even if it had waned into thin air—completely obliterated to the back of his mind—Zane was confident he would be suffering from the ramifications of it in the future.

“God… what am I going to do with you,” he dipped forward and buried his head into your body, using your shirt to muffle his conflicted groans.

It was those eyes of yours again. He couldn’t bear to face you with the secrets he’d been withholding, but he was already in this predicament. Ignoring it, even after being called out on his behavior, would just make things worse than if he would just tell you the truth.

He waited for seconds. Then seconds turned into minutes. Then those remaining minutes were spent sighing at the softest strokes you brushed through his hair, to occupy the silence, or to break the tension between you two. Either way, his heart felt heavier despite your comforting attempts.

With a mutter, Zane turned his head towards you and looked truthfully into your eyes, “Yeah, I’m jealous.”

You immediately perked up to join him at his side again, taking his hand into yours, “Zane, I promise—nothing happens…”

“No, I know, (M/N). I trust you. I mean, what can I say? I miss you. Our schedule isn’t aligning like I thought it would, and it feels like I’m seeing you less since you’ve taken Tom, Drew, Taylor… all of them for tutoring.”

“I can cut back? Maybe arrange the meetings to fit your schedule, and that way we can—“

“No, absolutely not. I’m not going to be that type of boyfriend.”

“Well, I can’t just sit here and watch you suffer.” Zane watched you play with his fingers, clamping your hand to his, then unclasping as his thoughts prolonged another silence.

“You have no idea, (M/N). I… God, it’s all fucked up.” He rubbed his face to comfort himself, groaning into his palms before taking your hands into his again.

Nothing calmed him more than simply holding you.

“What? It’s just about us not spending enough time together, right? Maybe I’m too optimistic, but that seems like something that can be easily resolved…”

“No—I mean, yes. That’s the problem, but it isn’t the main problem…”

“Then… what is?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched you physically brace yourself, straightening your posture like the suspense had been literally killing you and your insides. You took one deep exhale, preparing yourself for the worst while Zane fished for his phone, and scrolled through his messages.

He began explaining.

Taking tutoring lessons was the last thing on the team’s mind. For Zane and Nico, it was a simple affair. Their grades were dropping like flies, and their coach didn’t like the sight of that, or the consequences that would follow. If they didn’t take their grades seriously, how could Coach trust them to lead the team? How can they lead the team with discipline—if they severely lacked it themselves? Zane was warned of this predicament for multiple semesters, and it was only recently when he began taking it seriously.

He’d never received a letter from his coach before, and as laughably traditional as it was, he’ll forever remember the sinking feeling in his chest when he read the last paragraph of his coach’s handwriting:

Fix your grades by the end of the semester, or you’re out. No more second chances. You’re great, but not that great for me to put your future in jeopardy. Sorry, I should’ve been harder on you.

Without much arguing, he did as he was told. Week by week, month by month, Zane and Nico’s grades improved tremendously, and the threat of being kicked off the wrestling team was delayed for another semester. However, as much as the guys were impressed by their success, Zane couldn’t owe the credit to solely himself. You were a major part of his triumphant journey, and the team would since become greatly fond of you and your saving contributions to the group.

Maybe it was inspiring to watch Zane and Nico dig themselves out of a rut, an underdog story that everyone loved rooting for in the movies. Or maybe it was some kind of unspoken brotherhood, where if one was struggling, then the other would join them in their agony to establish some type of rapport. Because soon after, Zane’s teammates found themselves in an awfully similar situation to him and solicited your service.

But Zane knew his teammates.

Zane knew that this decision was completely out of left field. Taylor, Tom, Drew, Oliver; it was strange to see all of them suddenly feel the need to seek out a tutor—specifically you out of all the available people—to help them with their studies.

It was odd to listen to them complain that their grades had been dropping, apparently lower and lower with every passing week.

And again, Zane knew his teammates.

He spent every waking second with them since they’d met each other as freshmen; aligned every course with the guys so he’d come into class knowing at least one person; visited each other’s house on semester breaks because why the hell not—it was on the drive home. For god’s sake, all of their parents knew the team by government name, siblings if they had any, and even their own aspirations in life.

They were teammates, but they were also best friends.

So, Zane had every right to call this entire arrangement as bullshit.

They weren’t struggling with their grades. Tom and Taylor were honor students. Oliver was a teaching assistant. Drew was interning for a marketing firm that made Zane’s eyes hurt when he snooped through Drew’s emails, and looked at the qualifications for the rather imposing position.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

They were fucking with him.

Or to better clarify—trying to fuck with you.

Trying to fuck you.

It was Zane’s fault. He wasn’t clear that he was actually serious about his relationship with you, and that unlike his previous relations, there was no sharing with the team. All hands were off—should be off—and the only ones you’d be holding were Zane’s.

No.

That didn’t sound right.

It was their fault. It had to be their fault. They were the ones talking about you like they had never seen a pretty boy in their life, like they had never seen a man sharing this dreadful place we call Earth. A man with those pretty eyes, smiling with that pretty mouth, frowning with those pretty cheeks, typing with those pretty hands—the team would practically brand you as theirs with every session they’d return from studying with you, and they boasted about it all to Zane’s face.

Maybe it was his fault after all.

Zane loved bragging about you. It wasn’t something he often did with his previous partners, but something about you changed him. Zane loved showing your selfies off to his friends. One day he’d marvel how soft your lips were, the next he’d go on a tangent about what an incredibly kind person you were for finding someone’s lost dog. It was all arbitrary. As long as it was framed around you, the topics bounced from your looks to your body to your personality, and to his surprise, his friends would chime in too.

Increasingly more, as they would get to know you following every meeting.

The worst part was that Zane allowed it to happen and found himself encouraging this behavior he was scrutinizing. The group chat was complete evidence of his participation, and with every message, he could physically feel the jury slipping out of his favor.

Drew: I shouldn’t have doubted you, Zane. There’s something about your boy’s eyes…

Tom: Oh god. Does he always look at you like that, Zane? I don’t know how you can handle it. I have to physically hold my crotch to keep myself from coming in my pants.

Taylor: Can we talk about his lips, though? They’re so plump. I couldn’t help but stare at them. He does that cute thing where he chews on his lip when he’s grading.

Oliver: I wonder what he does when his mouth is filled. Zane? Care to give us a hint, please? Or shall we give him a visit and demo for ourselves…?

Zane: Hm, I’ll just say that… (M/N)’s learning very quickly on how to breathe through his nose and relax his throat. Though, that doesn’t stop the noises from coming out of his mouth.

Nico: Always had a thing for nerds… He suck you off with his glasses on or no?

Zane: On.

Drew: Oh, c’mon…

Taylor: Shit. I’m getting hard.

Tom: Fuck. Me too.

Nico: Lucky bastard… It should’ve been me!

Oliver: Never mind. This is so much better than what I could’ve imagined.

Zane laid it all out onto the table for you. His phone was a bar of gold in your hand as you scrolled and read through the messages pertaining you between him and his friends. The more recent the texts were, the more explicit and brazen.

Taylor talked about a dream that he had of you, where you allowed him to kiss you wherever he pleased if he got a question right. This was as innocent it would get. His hand would be shoved into your pants while he would kiss at your neck, licking into your whimpers.

Tom texted about the random hard-ons he’d sport when he was with you. Something as simple as watching you lick your lips was enough to get him off for the night.

Drew daydreamed about you giving him a hand job in the library. The rush of being nearly caught, and the flood of embarrassment blooming on your neck and face resulted him coming within your fist. You’d hover your free hand beneath his cock, to catch the flood of cum, because you were a kind person who didn’t want to make a public mess. And because you were such a kind person, you’d slurp his cum off your palm, right then and there, before Drew’s very eyes.

Nico was the most yearning. Perhaps it was because he always played second fiddle to Zane’s leadership, and that reflected onto his fantasies, but he missed hearing your praises. Praises that consisted of how good he was at solving this problem; how proud you were when he went out of his way to do more problems than what was assigned to him; how nice he felt when he pushed his warm cock inside of you for the first time. You’d overwhelm him with so many compliments, so many kind words, that it wouldn’t take much for him to come inside of you.

Oliver was a brazen man. He spoke without thought, without a filter, and if it came to Zane’s decision, he would want to publish a book full of Oliver’s lewd fantasies about you. He wanted to fuck you. Point blank period. It wasn’t up for debate. He would make you take him in the car if he could. Bent over the backseat, while he pounded into you out in the parking lot, or maybe in the woods if you preferred seclusion. And when he was done with you, he’d leave you there dripping, inhaling another smoke to work up another appetite, as if the image of his cum leaking out of you and down your legs hadn’t strung up his cock like a puppet with every passing second.

“It’s a lot, I know,” Zane’s voice broke you from the spell that was his friends’ fantasies. You blinked rapidly to ward off the explicit images festering. He was reading them with you, the illusions silently feeding you and him simultaneously. “Listen, if you want to call it quits, I understand. But I just—I love… seeing them talk about you like that. It makes me… so proud. Powerful—knowing that they can’t ever lay their hands on you, as long as I’m in the picture.”

“But… you said you were jealous? I don’t understand—” You fidgeted uncomfortably against him. Zane took no mind to it, especially since you seem to be taking the information better than he’d thought, but your constant squirming was beginning to be a cause of concern. He blindly opened his arm for you, allowing you to snuggle into his side.

“Yeah, well… I guess riling your friends up and feeding into their fantasies has some consequences. I like it when they talk about you to me, but… I don’t know, I guess I imagine what they would do to you if you were alone with them and it makes me worried, yet aroused? It’s… confusing, I know. I don’t get it either—Babe, are you okay? You keep moving.“

“No, continue—it’s just—“ you groaned, pressing closer to his side and crossing your legs. “Is that why you’ve been extra affectionate? I mean, you always have been, but I swear, I think we have sex almost every day—or is that normal? Not that I don’t love it. I don’t want you to get tired of me or something.”

“First off, never going to happen. I could never get tired of you. And… it might be normal depending on who you’re asking… Might be our new normal, if I’m being honest. I can’t help that you’re so irresistible—okay, what’s going on—” For a couple more seconds, Zane endured you fiddling with the blanket on your lap before suddenly tugging it off and freeing you of your agony, or whatever was the reason of your constant writhing.

He glanced down at your lap, and your reflex was quick to hide it—whatever was near your pelvis. It was hard seeing you in the dark with the TV and his phone switched off. The moonlight filtered through the blinds on his windows, but it was only enough to highlight parts of your face, not enough to illuminate the entire living room.

Without a warning, Zane reached in between your thighs and frisked whatever that had come into contact with his palm. He raised an eyebrow at the sudden hitch of your breath, feeling nothing but the leather of the couch in his palm—until he moved it higher, toward your lack of an attempt at shielding, and pushed your hand aside.

“Oh,” it didn’t take long to guess what was in the palm of his hand. He could trace the shape of it in his sleep if he was asked to. Write the exact measurements as he recalled numerous nights with you if he was quizzed on it, even if majority of his calculations relied on his grip.

Zane knew you very well, and he especially knew what he was squeezing—gently kneading until those familiar sounds poured out of you like freshly squeezed orange juice.

Ah, there it was.

It was his boy’s cock.

“Don’t get mad—“ you warned, pausing Zane’s kneads with a gentle grasp, but he persisted, only challenging the tightness in your shorts in the end.

“Why would I be mad? You’re not mad?” his voice traveled ticklishly to your ear. He’d pulled you closer, whispering while his hand was all synonyms of tantalizing.

“Is it wrong to say that I’m not? Is this was what you felt like…? I’m confused and horny, and it’s all a mess, Zane…” you groaned when his hand into the leg opening, eagerly reaching for your stiff arousal.

“God, sorry—let’s just… talk about this later. Fuck, come on.”

“Y-yeah, good idea.”

***

“They never heard yours.”

It was cool and lulling—the baby wipe Zane was cleaning you down with. Just when you thought Zane couldn’t have gotten more attractive, the concentrated look on his face while he wiped the sweat and sticky residue off your torso made your flaccid cock twitch, his biceps bulging like they were still strenuous from holding you against the wall a few minutes prior.

Zane raised a curious brow at your vagueness and your renewed arousal altogether before chucking the wipes in a bin and tucking himself to your side. “What do you mean?”

At the advance of his arms around your waist, you turned in your position to face him, pulling him close by the hips. “Your fantasy. They all told you about theirs, but you never did. Just makes me curious… on what yours is?”

Zane pondered, his thumb pondering with him as it chased after an internal beat, a rhythm over your lower back. In the meantime, you surveyed his face, like you always did post-sex. His moles were attractive, his eyebrows and lips deliciously full, and his eyes—beautiful windows to his beautiful soul.

You were the luckiest man on earth.

“You can’t judge me, all right?”

He jolted you back from your studying, an uncertain air emanating from his disposition.

You took his cheek in your hand and squeezed him with assertion. “I would never!”

Your constant kneading made him loosen up. He exhaled deep, looking dubious, but compiled trust into your eyes in the end—because it was just a fantasy, right?

One.

BIg.

Fucking.

Dream.

Finally, Zane confessed.

“Gangbang…”

“Oh…!”

***

Zane didn’t know what to expect. He had to admit that you looked uneasy when he brought up the topic of having a safe word. As basic as it was, the traffic light system was ideal as vanilla as it was, especially for something as daunting as someone’s first gangbang.

Plus, you were getting a little too creative with the safe words.

“What about… peanut butter cup..?” “Eh… think that’s a little too long, babe.” “Ghost!” “You might freak Tom out. He apparently had an ‘apparition’ back at his grandma’s house.” “Sheep?” “Sounds like ‘shit,’ which can be misconstrued as “shit, keep fucking me!"” “Hm… pickle?” “Gross! You know I hate pickles!” “You don’t eat words, Zane!”

As hopeful and convincing Zane could be, the last thing he would’ve thought was you agreeing to this—without much hesitation too, might he add.

“Can you move okay?” Zane stepped aside for you to walk from one end of his bedroom to the other. It wasn’t much distance, but it wasn’t like you needed an ample amount of space to begin with.

You took the open floor to demonstrate your ability to walk. It seemed simple enough. You did it every day. One foot after the other, step by step, leisurely and calmly and—

“Oh—“ you stiffened after the first step and froze in place. One leg methodically moved back and forth to gauge the restrictive mobility. “It feels a little… tight?”

“We can go a size smaller, but it should be a little uncomfortable. Plus, you’re not going to be walking much? Hopefully…” Zane calmly reasoned, maneuvering you like a mannequin. His hand was searching high and low for any physical indications that a butt plug was lodged inside of you—pressing when the flange toy protruded a centimeter more than he had liked.

Your breath hitched and then you shook your head, deciding the size was adequate adequate enough, and resumed walking normally. One couldn’t have noticed any oddities, as long as they ignored the rigidness of your posture.

The feeling came out of the blue—you wanted to impress them. After all, you were the star of the night. Zane’s confession had been simmering in your thoughts for a few days, especially one comment when he described how powerful he felt knowing his friends wanted you, but couldn’t have you.

You wanted to make Zane proud. If the humblest of all brags turned his friends into complete brutes, you couldn’t imagine how they would act when they all have had a turn to explore your body inside and out, and never again. Dogs. Monsters. Yet they’d worship every sovereign step that Zane would take like they were indebted to his graciousness, like they were his men of labor, all for one more night with you again.

You wanted more than to make Zane proud. You wanted to make him feel like a king.

Three knocks at the door, and the long-awaited fantasy was a door away from becoming a reality. You tailed stiffly after Zane, the kiss he quickly granted you before jogging to the entrance like a spell to your pursuit—like a hex to the tension Zane knew all-so-well.

Zane looked back once more, a nod of assurance padded by a bright smile, and you exhaled out the tightness in your chest.

Let the party begin.

***

“Let’s make it… easier for you, babe. Warm you up instead of abruptly starting?”

“Yeah—that sounds fine to me.”

“You’ll spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on can initiate the first step. No more than a minute. Then, you’ll spin the bottle again—second person goes, so-on and so-on. Sound good? More organized that way, right? And you can get a feel of everyone’s… vibes without it being overwhelming. Fellas? Any objections?”

“Sounds good to me, Zane.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeap.”

“Mm-hm.”

“No complaints here.”

The slower the bottle spun, the faster your heart beat. Your eyes moved from one man to the next, as if you were the empty beer bottle itself. The group formed a circle in the middle of the living room, small but enough to accommodate for seven men: You, Zane, Taylor, Oliver, Nico, Tom, and Drew; in that order of the circumference. Other than the guys catching up with you—small talk about your tutoring, their assignments, dinner, new dogs, and whatnot—conversations were kept to a minimum.

All seven of you knew why you were here altogether, and they weren’t keen on drawing it out for any longer.

“You guys just came back from the gym?” Zane asked after taking a sip of his beer. You reached for his bottle, feeling parched, and he passed it to you with a composing grin, lingering to watch your expression sour as the bubbles tickled your throat.

“Yeah—was going to hit the showers, but then we would’ve been late,” Taylor explained, and the rest of the guys nodded in between sips of their beers, comically attentive to the slowing bottle. You took a silent whiff of the heavy musk radiating off of the five men; your dick twitched.

“Oh shit, who’s it gonna be?! First stud of the night!” Tom bowed his body forward and began drumming the floor in faux suspense. You laughed and joined in on the increasing drum rolls, the others including yourself finding his anticipation infectious as laughter spread amongst the group like a virus—the seven pairs of hands drumming on the floor altogether being part of the symptom.

There was nothing to be worried about, was there?

This was going to be fun.

A blast.

A bang.

The bottle slowed, passing pairs of bare feet in its rotation. Multiple postures straightened as if they could compel gravity to direct the bottle towards them, but then Drew’s slumped when it passed him, then Taylor’s, and a domino effect of lost hope was rippled—all except for one.

A chorus of oohs broke out when it stopped on Nico—Zane’s right-hand man. It must’ve been an inside joke between all six of them because Oliver made a comment about how Nico was finally having his moment, and they all erupted into another fit of laughter, cutting the tension in the air one chuckle at a time.

“You’re up!” Zane beckoned with a nod. You took another glance at him, nothing of concern, but rather to alleviate his own worries by the way he suddenly gathered his hold on your hand, and then pecked him on the lips and cheek. He smiled, returning the peck onto your lips before whispering into your ear, “Show ‘em what a lucky man I am.”

“Whew, all right..!” Nico propped himself up with a hop.

Nico made his way towards you and pulled you to the middle of the circle. Even knowing that you read his messages, he still carried that dashing smile like it was a weapon. One that regularly caused destruction on many hearts, one that charged your own like it was a battery—you just now discovered how disruptive dimples could be.

He was a sly man. Two-faced even, and you anticipated to discover this other side of him that he’d been reluctant to show.

“Hi—again,” Nico whispered through a smile. You found it charming how he couldn’t contain his glee. Dimple to dimple, they were like two separate smiles of their own, bracketing the salient beam from widening any further.

You wanted to peek over at Zane when Nico pressed his nose to yours, taunting himself—taunting you with the suspense of his soft-looking lips. But Nico’s hand on your nape was absolute and refusing, holding you like you were a weakening star—his dying wish, and made you fix his eyes on him, as he had done for you all this time. “Sorry you had to find out this way, but… I have a crush on you.”

“No—it’s fine. It’s why we’re here, right?” You braced one hand over Nico’s lap and the other on his broad chest. Sturdy, well-defined muscles graced your palm with every caress.

“Yeah… what a way to reciprocate my feelings…”

Slowly, you felt Nico’s breath warm your lips before they were taken hostage by his pair of reds, mirroring the close of his eyes upon noticing. The room fell to a silence, watching like hawks, closing in between the two bodies for front seating of the kiss.

He started gentle; soft lips moving against softer lips, careful to avoid hitting your glasses, your gasps and his groans filling your mouth with fulfillment. One hand of Nico’s maintained on your nape while the other rested on the small of your back, to pull you closer, to feel the skin hidden beneath polycotton. His hand was warm as he roamed; big as he held at nothing but something all at once; inquisitive as his fingers would occasionally dip into the waistband of your shorts.

The longer it goes on, the harder the kiss was. Nico’s mouth was illusive, now hard and abrasive to train your mouth open, and then stay open as he licked into your mouth and explored with his curious tongue. Your ears perked at an envious comment from one of the guys, but it was quickly hushed following the sound of your moans. Nico wrapped his mouth around your tongue and sucked with ardency, mining any possible sounds out of you like they were Earth’s greatest treasure. Your tongue reeled back in growing desire to tick a kink off of Nico’s bucket list, smooching a few more times on the lips, holding his cheek, and then whispering into his warm mouth with a bated breath as his hand halted its lone venture up the opening of your shorts.

“You’re a great kisser, Nico…”

“Time!”

A timer sang from your side, and a web of spit tailed your lips as you pulled away, letting your gaze linger to catch Nico’s heightened arousal in his eyes before returning to your seat.

“Fuck..,” chuckles spread from man to man when Nico returned, exhaling and shaking all sorts of trembles out of his body. Oliver and Tom aided with hard smacks to Nico’s back, sharing the thrill of the kiss simultaneously.

“Was that okay?” You whispered to Zane, fixing your glasses while the rest of the guys debriefed on Nico’s fulfillment. A collection of comments such as, “I’m fucking jealous…”, “Did you see the way he looked at you? Fucking sexy…”, “God, I hope it’s me next,” made you squirm in your seat.

Your mission from all of this was to make Zane proud, but it wouldn’t hurt if you gifted yourself a slight ego-boost in the meantime, right?

“You did… fucking perfect. I think you’re riling them up—riling me up too, actually,” he muttered, briefly maneuvering your hand to demo the boner in his shorts before returning back to his duties as the host. “Okay, settle down! Babe? Next spin, please? Think the team’s getting a little antsy.”

You surveyed the room again. Nico was subtly pushing down on his crotch while Drew, Tom, and Oliver were casual about it, openly massaging themselves through their shorts, their eyes wandering towards you with repose. If you hadn’t had the decency to look away, you could’ve indulged in their thick prints for a little longer.

But duty called. You reached for the bottle and spun it, bating the men with the suspense of who was going to be next in line in warming you up.

The crown of the bottle stopped parallel to Taylor, who was slouched on his elbows like he’d been expecting it—rigged it with his mind if telekinesis was more than hypothetical. He greeted you with provocation, flashing his brows and a smug smile all at once, then a wink, before joining you in the middle. You always found him intimidating. It was probably those eyelashes of his. They were always fluttering, even when you would go over his notes—he would blink and stare once knowing it was effective enough to render you speechless. As naive as it sounded—it felt like Taylor was adept to anything and everything, including whatever he was about to do to you.

And you were absolutely correct in that hypothesis—because Taylor immediately began stripping you down. It was inevitable, but you didn’t expect all of you to be bared within the second spin.

“Seems like Taylor’s on a mission.” Oliver laughed, catching your briefs and taking a whiff at it before passing it to the group. One by one, you watched each person press their nose to the center of your briefs, and inhale. Comments on the smell of your arousal made your dick twitch again. Harder, when Drew and Oliver engrossed themselves in the fine stain of pre-cum and took multiple lingering whiffs in hounding the sweet musk again. You’d think you laced them with some kind of potion—an elixir that amplified their excitement through every vein in their body, from hands to cock.

From head to toe, your clothes came off and were tossed aside, and you let Taylor’s spirit of inquiry explored as he pleased. Sprawling your arms and legs out like he was frisking you, smacking the back of your thighs like he was a butcher examining the quality of fresh meat. You groaned when he loitered at your naked body, noticing the constellation of goosebumps on your chest to the dimples on your backside—all with a glaze of his hand. Taylor’s fingers followed every contour of your body—from spine to muscle—studying you and the smallest reactions you’d spare him with pleased eyes as he smacked, kissed, smoothed, and licked the canvas that was made of skin and bone. You were a sculpture carved by the Renaissance, and Taylor was a curator, assessing your value through the warmth of his mouth, the slick of his tongue, and the kneads of his hands.

“Oh, what do we have here?” His mouth was on your stomach, closely tending to the warm skin with kisses, while his hand was on your rump, prodding at the plug that had been confined in you for the entirety of the day. “Guys, jackpot. (M/N) came with a surprise.”

“I-it wasn’t my idea—“ Heat rose high to your neck when Taylor turned you around and showed your ass off to the ogling group of men. While he was at it, he mind as well brand you with a price tag—right on your ass cheeks, where Taylor smacked each side once, massaging them with a firm knead, and spread you open.

“Holy shit…” Tom muttered while he stood on his knees, taking in the sight of your plugged hole. You impulsively squeezed your thighs together, covering your growing erection at the marveling shared between the six men. There was a wonder in Zane’s expression, resembling the first time he undressed you before his very eyes.

“You like teasing us, don’t you?” Drew said when your glutes tensed, and the room hummed with the soft susurrus of agreement. “Pretty thick ass too, jesus—“

“Time,” Zane stopped the alarm after a ring, sighing in between kneads to his bulge.

Five of the guys collectively groaned from the cliff-hanger while Taylor gave your hard ass a smack in midst of returning to his seat. “See how considerate I can be? You’re welcome, fellas!”

You jolted, gulping at the budding sting. It was becoming a habit to seek for Zane’s approval after every turn, and fortunately you did—because unbeknownst to Taylor, Zane was staring him down, a furious and annoyed look on his face that quickly simmered when he caught your gaze.

“Spin, please.”

The next stop was Tom—Eager Tom. He’d been making comments on your body since he stepped foot inside the apartment, so it was expected that his turn would be based on personal whims. Although, you reckoned that the plug inside of you turned the tides.

Making you kneel on all fours, Tom slowly twisted the plug in and out of you while the group gathered from behind and intimately watched. You clenched at the base, stifling your groans into the back of your hand upon the group’s growing fascination with the sight of your swelling pucker.

“Fuck, look at that pretty rim…” Oliver mumbled, and Tom took it as a hint to trace the border of your hole with his finger, lone yet devious.

“If it looks that appetizing, imagine how it tastes,” Drew covertly suggested.

Tom hummed in thought while toying thoughtlessly with your hole—into your hole. “Not much of an ass-eater, maybe I should hand that task off to someone more capable… What do you think, (M/N)?”

“P-please… anyone is fine—”

As the tip neared its exit, you desperately held onto the last bit of latex that kept you from baring it all—thighs vibrating from the difficulty, toes curling as Tom screwed—but your muscles were as weak as Tom’s patience, and you naturally gave into his tortuous wrenching, clamming up him when he suddenly plunged the plug back into you, then completely bloomed—when Tom finished you off with a tyrannical yank.

“O-oh, god!” You yelped loud as you bared yourself for the group. Deep waves of heat trampled over your body and swam into every course of vein as one person after the other, from Tom to Drew to Nico to Oliver to Taylor to Zane, moaned in chorus at the sight of your budding insides.

Your chest laid flat on the floor, your glasses tossed and forgotten, your hips and ass raised high, your cock throbbed towards the floor—you suddenly buckled your hips when you felt a wad of spit launched directly at your blinking hole.

Then another, and another, and then three consecutive more, until your hole felt completely, and utterly drenched—one from every man you presumed as you laid there, writhing and dripping.

“Fuck, so pretty when it’s glistening like that,” Tom groaned. You could hear fabrics moving, see clothes coming off when you peeked from your position, and your cock throbbed at the smallest glimpse of Tom’s naked body, followed by Oliver’s, and then so on.

“Time,” Zane said again, then a second later rescinded his announcement, rubbing an affectionate hand over your back for you to look up. “Actually, fuck this—baby, you’re okay with us starting now? I don’t think we can handle it anymore… yeah?”

“Y-yeah, no—I can’t wait any longer—oh!” Suddenly, you felt something wet breach your hole. Unrelenting in its expedition as it flicked and wiggled the group’s load of spit inside of you, sliming you up from inside and out.

“Sorry, (M/N). Drew hasn’t had dinner yet—come on, up and at ‘em,” Oliver steered you back on all fours with a rough pull to your shoulders, and knelt himself before you. He pushed your hair back once, admiring the sweat beading over your hairline, the increasingly dismayed look on your face when someone—Taylor—spread and smacked your ass apart for Drew to lick and devour inside you completely. “And neither have you. Open.” You couldn’t even hesitate as Oliver worked at lighting pace. He hooked his thumb into your mouth, pulled it open, spat a thick load of spit where your tongue deftly caught it, and pushed his thick cock into your mouth—all in one neck-braking motion.

“Fuck…” Oliver moaned at the warmth of your mouth. His eyes rolled, but the sight of your lips wrapped around his veiny dick was holier than the overhead lights spotlighting you from above, so he did his best to maintain his composure, working your mouth open with the girth of his cock—slow and steady.

At least Oliver was generous enough to not shove himself down the back of your throat, but still—your throat spasmed nonetheless when he shoved himself deeper with a tug to your nape. Upon the hit to your throat, you abruptly pushed him out with your tongue and a gag, launching into a coughing fit.

“Loosen up on him, will you? He bruises easily,” Zane muttered, noticing Oliver’s fingers turning eggshell-white upon taking your name in his hand. Although, that didn’t stop Zane’s hand from fisting his cock. If anything, it pulsed merrily at the sound of your throat resisting.

“He’ll use his safe words, right? You’re fine? Tell me if you need a break,” As much as Oliver was large and imposing, his body a thick and study mass akin to Zane’s, his eyes were made of sugar. An uncanny color for those soluble carbohydrates, but it was fitting, considering your body melted from the way he looked fondly at you and petted at your cheek. “Pretty.”

“I-I’m fine…” You said with a bated breath and nodded to Oliver with assurance. Then again, when Zane’s hand pushed your hair back and remained on the crown of your head. “I’m fine. Promise.”

“I know. I trust you.” He bent down to soothe the swell of your lips with a lingering kiss before delivering a smack to your ass and pulling away with a renewed disposition. “Suck his cock like how you suck mine. Properly, this time.”

“Fuck—“ Your body propelled forward from the never-ending feast on your puckering hole. Out of curiosity, you peered over your shoulder and instantly found yourself regretting it. It was unavoidable. Your cock leaking in agony, watching Nico, Taylor, and Drew take turns at licking stripes over your hole. Hungry animals.

On Drew’s turn, he caught your gaze in midst of his licks and came to a sudden halt. He then widened his tongue over your crack and with a leaden pace, laved his tongue over your crease like he was cleaning the last bit of crumbs off his plate, smug and teasing in his scheme to make you break.

“No more distractions, yeah? That’s not the way you treat your boyfriend’s friends.” A grappling hook to your nape tore your eyes back to your front, and your mouth was instantly filled again with the heavy weight of Oliver’s musky cock. Your hands were braced on the floor, clutching at nothing but the installed security of wood panels, as Oliver rocked into your mouth. Your cheeks hallowed progressively, adapting to the stretch of your mouth when he tested the depth of your throat numerous times before finally committing and sinking his cock into the back of your mouth, into your throat, with one gratified push.

“Good boy. Hold it, hold it, don’t move. Just relax…” Zane heartened by your right side, reaching in between your legs and fondling with your cock as he’d been doing with his own. Upon the welling of tears, you clamped your eyes shut for comfort, and nearly choked back on your own spit, impulsively squeezing around Oliver’s cock.

“Oh, shit… holy fuck, guys.” Tom was marveling at your left. You peeked your eyes open and caught a glimpse of his hand spit-shining his long, veiny cock, twisting deliciously eager over his plump glans near your temple, the sticky sound of his spit loud and clear in your ear. “Jesus, Zane wasn’t lying when he said you could take dick like no other.”

Oliver’s balls were pressed flush to your chin, your mouth was stuffed into the unshaven hairs of his pubic area, your nostrils was flared from arousal at the salty scent of the dried sweat within vicinity, and your throat was plugged with a glorious amount of thick and heavy cock.

“There we go, that’s it. Good,” Oliver moaned, tenderly massaging your nape while cutting off the supply of oxygen at the same time. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Doing everything we want, huh?”

“Mmfgh!” Your moans muffled in the cramming of his swollen cock as Oliver began patting and squeezing your cheeks, tightening the suction of your mouth by curling his body overhead, and simply pushing deeper.

Swelling harder, throbbing, the longer you endured. You’d learned how to breathe through your nose when it came down to this, but you still had difficulties relaxing your tongue. It wasn’t surprising when ample amounts of saliva began leaking out of your mouth. More spilled out when Oliver pulled you back a centimeter, only for the course of action to halt with another plunge of his cock, somehow sinking deeper down your throat.

“Think he can fit another one?” Nico halfheartedly joked, the last one to crawl over and join the group in their sight-seeing. His cock was hard, veins bulging in a way that made you delirious because Oliver alone was enough to make you overwhelmed in the best way possible.

You couldn’t possibly imagine another cock lodged in.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, right, babe?” Zane tugged on your cock harder. He pulled at your balls, thumbed the piss-slit, and stroked your shaft with the pre-cum that had been dripping in solitude. “So wet, you’re so fucking wet from being used like this.”

Finally, you were graced with the precious taste of air. Oliver slowly pulled his dick from the depth of your throat, and the group moaned at the sight of your throat simultaneously deflating from its bulge.

Your throat was sore, but it was worth it. Moving your eyes from one man to another, it was finally registering what a dream this was. All of them were exceptionally fit with sweat proudly highlighting their training. All of them sported deliciously thick erections with multiple sights of pre-cum dripping like molasses to taunt you. What was more important was that all of their eyes were on you—something as minuscular as a blink would set them off, and they’d restart the non-existent staring battle between you and the group again.

They were as breathless as you were, and your heart was pumping with the sickening volume of their cocks being cordially stroked, their pecs and biceps brawny and bouncing from the exhilaration you’d been supplying them.

It was fucking worth it.

Under Zane’s conducting, the team flipped you onto your back, cushioning your body with multiple throw pillows, and surrounded themselves around you again, where you could properly watch them pleasure their cocks with the lube Zane had distributed as they kneeled over you. Then, Taylor made the decision for himself to slot his body beneath you, embracing you from behind and using his arms around you to hold your legs and hips back, positioning his freshly lubed cock near your hole.

“You smell good,” Taylor commented at the scent of your cologne, kissing madly into your neck as he found the source. You gulped, feeling him staring again through those eyelashes of his. With one hand, he turned your cheek to face him, his lips nearing and over yours, but never meeting. Lingering, breathing, gazing, indulging—you both surveyed each other’s features. Watching your soft but swollen lips, watching his sharp but pleading eyes. He pushed himself in without as much of a warning—and then watched the enlightened expression on his face, the immense rapturing of yours. For a moment, you swore you could’ve seen something other than lust in Taylor’s eyes, but he punctuated the delusions straight out of you with an unbearable thrust, and you never looked back. You gasped at the girth of his cock stretching you out, and his breath hitched at the spontaneous clenching your tight hole was bestowing him. “Fuck…”

You breathed out a whimper, and your parted mouth was immediately seized with the taste of Tom’s thick cock as he kneeled over your body and thrusted himself selfishly down your throat. Deeper, when Tom found your gags to be indecently enticing and feeding into his cock veins.

To make everything all the more dizzying, your hands were taken and wrapped around a pair of throbbing cocks; Zane and Nico’s in your left, Drew and Oliver in your right. Every contact point on your body, from Taylor’s dick pressing deep inside of you, to Tom’s succulent cock bulging your cheek, to Zane, Nico, Oliver, and Drew rubbing against their respective partner and fucking into your closed fist, burned.

“You love being full of cock, don’t you? Look at you… pleasuring the six of us at once. Come on, use your mouth. Suck Tom off, you can do it,” Taylor mouthed at your shoulder, the warmth of his breath tickling you, and then a complimentary bite to your shoulder—making your pulse run high. His grasp on the back of your raised thighs was warring as he used his core to beat his thick cock inside of you and pummel you open.

You cried around Tom’s cock, Taylor’s balls slapping your taint with every exhilarating thrust and feeding into your indulgence. Tom was noble. You already had enough on your plate; stroking two thick cocks per hand and enduring Taylor’s aggressive fucks. The intricate position you were in made it more difficult for you to suck him off, so Tom took matters into his own hands, and used your mouth as he pleased. His hands were behind his head as if they could stabilize the swimming lewd thoughts. You peeked at the utter state of bliss he was in, and your cock throbbed at the sight of his body. His chest full, his pits trimmed, his built expertly trimmed with fine and intricate muscles, especially so whenever he sunk in his stomach and flexed from the heat of your throat. You were salivating not only because the taste of Tom’s cock was so delightfully salty, but also because you were surrounded by such gorgeous men—a heaven of greek gods.

You felt reborn.

The kiss is all-consuming when Tom pulled himself out to press his lips against yours, making you sit up on Taylor’s lap. When his tongue pried your mouth open effortlessly, electricity shot down your spine, only for it to sear back up with the vicious pounding Taylor was giving you. “You taste like my dick, you like that?” Tom inhaled every ounce of breath you dispelled into his mouth. Broken sounds of whimpers and moans, a confusing yet compatible elixir that Tom drank up, and poured it back down your throat when he licked deeper into your mouth. He licked and nipped at your lips, tangled your tongue with his, and stole your breath with the eagerness of his mouth on yours that hadn’t seem to be faltering.

Heat flushed through your veins when each person took a turn to your mouth. The straddling position allowed the group to enclose themselves around you, the air thickening and weighing heavier than the swing of their cocks. Five heavy dicks surrounded your face while Taylor’s continued to swell beneath you, turning you inside and out as his hands on your hips hardened. It was an insoluble dilemma of your sexual appetite. You were starving for something to fill your mouth, but who—was the dilemma you were faced with.

“So big, fuck—“ You caught yourself drooling at the sight of their cocks dripping for you.

You behaved like a wanton, catching Oliver’s pre-cum with your tongue before sucking hard on Zane’s cock, then simultaneously stroking Drew and Nico over your shoulders ardently. The smell of Tom’s and Oliver’s salty cocks rubbing over your face made you vigilant and heightened your arousal to a crescendo. Eagerly, you replaced Zane’s cock with the two men, and moaned when the uncomfortable stretch they had provided made you stiffen around Taylor’s shaft.

“Shit, I’m going to—“ Taylor warned, his large hand splayed on your sweaty lower back while he wallowed in the confines of your walls, squeezing and clamping around his bristling cock.

Your mouth was stretched, saliva dripping from either corners of your lips, the crown of their dicks thick enough to shut your trap without so much as touching your throat. The wonderful sounds of their moans made the strain on your jaw well-worth the ache you were surely going to feel the effects from tomorrow onwards.

“Taking two cocks at once—never seen that before, Christ…” There was a vacant space in the middle of your mouth. Tilting your chin up, Oliver pushed a wad of spit into the opening—smug as he watched it fall into the void, somewhere in the back of your throat.

“He’s a horny little thing, isn’t he?” Tom followed in Oliver’s steps, spitting inside of your mouth. Two people were enough to set off a chain reaction as the rest of the group quickly joined. Nico, Drew, and Zane added their own shipment to the pooling spit haul, and they all watched in awe when you relaxed your tongue and let it drain into the back of your throat as one load.

The dehumanizing exploitation of your body turned sweat into goosebumps, and you were eager to be covered in welts by the time you were done.

Your entire body lit up at the attention the men were giving you. Taylor fucked you harder, his hands bruising on your body. Nico and Drew occupied the sloppy void that was your mouth when Tom pulled out to join Zane in kissing your flushed neck, and Oliver tended to your abandoned cock with his hand, stroking and twisting your knob. You choked on the two cocks as they attempted to fuck your mouth. It was a constant collision on your tongue and cheeks, where loads of spit pooled and dripped for a messy bustle, and you wouldn’t let them out of your mouth until Taylor delivered one strong thrust, and emptied himself inside of you. The sudden launch of his cum erupting inside made you pull away with a bated breath and moan, your body writhing as he flooded your insides.

“Fuck!” He shouted from behind you, clawing into your inner thighs while your ass was pumped with the warmth of his thick cum. Warm spurts continued to paint you from the inside as Taylor resumed his hips for a few more seconds, dumping every seed that he could push out deep inside of your violated hole, until his sack was emptied.

“Don’t let it leak out,” Drew hoisted you off of Taylor’s limp and recovering body, and pushed you back onto all fours, your head in between Taylor’s legs. “—and clean him up. Not a drop wasted, got it?”

“M-mm, yeah—fuck!” When you began licking at the underside of Taylor’s softening cock, your hole was back to being occupied again with the hung curve that was Drew’s dick. He didn’t waste a single second in making you squirm. With both hands tucked into your pelvis, Drew used your body as leverage while fucking madly into you.

“Fuck—look at you, you’re creaming all over my dick,” the sounds were delectable. Soft and creamy with every thrust Drew delivered to your ass—you felt some cum splatter onto your back from how hard he was fucking into you. As much as your asscheeks stung from the way his thighs clapped against your flesh, you were relishing every second of it with Taylor’s cock in your mouth, languidly swiveling your tongue and lapping up remnants of his seed until he was pristine.

The rough spanking marked you as Drew’s in the moment. You felt guilty for thinking it, but it was placed in good faith. HIs palm seared your stinging ass, reminding you to tend to the others. You do, your vision blurry and hazy, but you took whatever cock wanted to enter your mouth. Tom’s, Oliver’s, Nico’s, then Zane’s—they all tasted incredible and if you were allowed to, you could see yourself coming right then and there—simply from sucking cock—cocks.

You thrived in rough hands. Drew’s, Zane’s—anyone’s. Your skin throbbed when Zane and Nico slapped your cheeks with their cocks, and your asshole spasmed when Drew sealed himself within you, pushing every drop of seed until he slumped over the curve of your back, toppling you onto the ground with his weight. Even then, he pushed into your squirms, his cock buried deep into your ass, refusing to pull himself away from the sickening pleasure.

“Up and at ‘em, (M/N). Not done yet,” Oliver smiled and pulled you onto your feet, positioning himself behind you.

“Fuck—Zane…” You called out to him, bracing yourself on the arm of his couch as your muscles were still stirring awake from their sleep.

He approached you, quick in his steps, immediately tending to your non-existent wounds. His fingers through your hair, his hand over your cheeks. “What—you’re okay? What do you need? Too much? Fuck—Drew, I told you to go easy on—”

“N-no, no! I’m okay—fuck, I—I love this… so much… So much cum inside of me, god—” You were in a dreamlike state, drunk on the lights overhead you were mistaking for stars. Reality blurred even more when you felt Oliver take your wrists with one strong hold, holding them over your back, and pushed himself inside of you with one strong thrust. “Fuck!”

“Loosen up, dude. Your boy’s enjoying it—see? Taking our cocks like it’s a fucking olympic sport,” Oliver cruelly laughed, ignoring the twisting of Zane’s face as he focused on the absolute bliss on your face, holding you parallel to his body, to the sharp thrusts he catapulted upwards into your sloppy hole. “All the cocks that’s been inside of you, but you’re still so fucking tight. You going to loosen anytime soon? Hm? Too much of a slut to let that happen, right? I know you feel me in your guts, (M/N). You look fucking beautiful taking my dick so effortlessly.”

Drips of cum were leaking out of you. You could feel it trailing from your creamy hole, then down to the back of your slick tensed thighs as Oliver fucked you while standing.

Unlike Drew, Oliver didn’t need to brand you with hard spanks to your body. His hammering cock was enough, hollowing you with ease, the crown assaulting your sweet spot with ease—everything Oliver did was with ease, and it was further aided as you let yourself go limp. He fucked you bent over the arm of the couch, then when he had enough, you were back to being fucked standing. His arms looped around your pits, then interlocked behind your neck in support of his thrusts. His cock was ruthless in your ass, spearing and ruining your hole for anyone else to come after him. Your tender hole was brutally stretched around his swelling cock, your body burning up from the hold he was restraining your body with. Oliver whispered praises for your endurance, kisses you on the neck, then the shell of your ear for providing him a pleasure that would be the blueprint for the rest of his hook-ups. He straightened his knees, pushing himself balls deep into you, and in one long groan from his gut, spilled deep inside of you.

“Bet you feel so full, don’t you? Fuck…” Oliver grabbed his dick at the base and squeezed the remaining spurts inside of you before pulling out, flicking any remnants of cum over your bruised ass cheeks.

You moaned for him. The third load in your ass, and your heart was aching because you were another man closer to concluding the night.

It was open, dripping in cum, and then immediately seized when Nico pulled you onto his lap to join him on the couch. You felt like a rag doll—pulled, tossed, and thrown however one was pleased to treat you. As long as your hole was still functioning and remained at their disposal, neither of the men had any complaints about marking your body with a few scuffs.

Nico faced you to the group, your back planted against him. You whimpered when your tired limbs were hoisted once again as he hooked his arms under your knees, and then raised your legs up to position your dripping hole over his cock. Your hole had become a luscious swell of gape. The group marveled at the sight of your puffy rim, beautifully creamed by the pleasure of Taylor, Drew, and Oliver respectively.

“Holy shit, he’s fucking hollowed out…” Tom muttered, stroking himself to the sight of your insides blooming for everyone to see.

“Shit’s getting me horny again,” Taylor laughed, tugging on his flaccid cock, his body still recovering from the high he had inflicted upon himself moments prior.

Supporting your body with his arms, Nico raised your legs higher, bending them back until your knees hovered near your temples, and then locked his hand around your neck to hold you in place. Your mouth fell agape at the stretch of your muscles, and heat spread throughout your body as the group watched Nico’s cock breach your opening with a slow shove, pushing the leak of cum back inside of your guts.

Your hands trembled as you guarded your position on the couch upon Nico folding you back and feasting on your insides with his length. You felt Nico’s thighs tense, pushing up into you with all his might while your gaze locked with Zane’s. He gulped at the unholy sight of your hole being raptured—hungrily being excavated with Nico’s throbbing tool. Nico’s cock was covered in the recent load stuffed inside of you, an increasing sheen the more he fell into a rhythm, and rutted into you aimlessly, chasing after his fill. He slid in and out of you easily, the ample amount of cum replacing any need for to renew his dick with lube.

You and Nico panted in union. His heavy cock stretched you open, and Nico apologized with a blistering kiss to your shoulder, as if fucking you couldn’t be the apology itself. When you alternated your gaze to Tom, he looked almost predatory. Eager like he had always been, but something internal was running thin—Tom’s patience. He scooted closer, watching you take Nico’s fat cock with scalding envy. While your hole took the screwing, Tom caressed the rim of your asshole. You were loose enough for what he wanted to do to you. Carefully, Tom pressed one finger against the underside of Nico’’s cock, and you choked back on your moans, throwing your head back at the sudden tightness as Tom slipped a finger inside of you. Nico continued rocking, occasionally slowing to accommodate Tom as he worked three fingers inside of you.

“T-Tom, that’s too much—“

“But it feels good though, right? You seem to like it when it’s too much.”

Spitting on his own cock, Tom massaged the layer of lube in before lining himself with your occupied opening. Your eyes widened in stupefied anticipation—in arousing fear—yet you brought your hands over to spread your ass cheeks for him, for Tom to force his cock into your body alongside Nico’s length, and you cried with the double breach.

“M-mmfgh! Fuck…!” You cried out, your eyes rolled in the sockets, leaving only the whites of your eyeballs visible as Nico and Peter began moving in opposite rhythms.

“Fuck, Tom—your dick feels so good against mine, holy crap—“

With an animalistic groan, you pushed your ass out, greedily taking the two cocks into your gut despite the uncomfortable stretch signaling for you to stop and rethink about this decision unfolding before your very eyes.

Not long after, Nico and Tom pumped their hips in harmony, filling you over and over. Cum would trickle out from Tom joining, but he was quick to pull himself back out and scoop it back inside of you with a deep plunge that made the three of you reduce yourselves to nothing but guttural moans. You felt Nico’s body tense beneath you, coercing your own to tighten at the core.

Holding your thighs, Tom pushed into you to the hilt while Nico followed suit. They shuddered with ecstasy, growling like wild beasts from the natural impulse to clamp your sloppy hole around them. Their cocks were rubbing against one another, harder, faster, as they fucked themselves inside of you, opening you more than you had thought was imaginable at a relentless pace. You mewled, collapsing back onto Nico’s hold as your body rocked from the powerful thrusts as if you were caught in a tide.

You felt your own cock throb at this, balls tightening and stroking your cock to the sound of Nico in your ear and Tom at your lips, panting into your mouth in between messy kisses. You were wrecked, completely and utterly ruined as they rocked their shafts into you in opposite strides now. One would hit your sweet spot while the other pulled himself out to renew that fresh stretch of your rim again as they pushed with conviction. Between labored breaths, you searched for Zane over Tom’s shoulder, your heart beating faster and faster as he seemed to be mesmerized by the display of your sheer dedication in following in on your promise to make him feel like the luckiest man on Earth.

Faster. Harder. Deeper. In a matter of seconds, you all came together. Your body spasmed and writhed between their own twitching, your hole clenched around the erupting cocks, your own dick throbbed and spurted out creamy ropes onto your body. Their hips were unrelenting, frothing the thick cum sent deep into your crevices with writhing and swollen flesh, and you slumped, Nico’s released hold relieving your muscles as your body shifted back and forth from the two cocks milking themselves until their shafts softened.

At the thought of Zane—the last man that you would be taking—your position came to you unbidden. Scrolled over the arm of the couch again, you felt comforted by the ample leg room, stretching your muscles for the final act while Zane prepared himself behind you, laving his cock over your crevice, submerging himself in the wetness that your raw hole was dripping out. You were depraved of touch—Zane’s touch—you barely spent a minute with him in between stationing yourself with every men. All except him.

“They did a real number on you…” Zane muttered in your ear. His left hand caressed the tense muscles in your back before joining his right in steering you by the shoulders, his grip clutching a bruising shade into your skin. “Suddenly I don’t matter anymore, hm? You only call me over to show yourself off—showing off that dripping hole of yours.” Unsolicited moans drew out of you with the push of Zane’s hips, fitting his cum-covered cock over your crevice, as a way to soothe the swelling of your puffy rim, but also to ridicule your newfound addiction. “Showing off what was mine—that has now been ruined by five other fucking men. Fuck, I saw the way you were looking at them. All of them. You reek of them too, fucking slut.” He deliberately pressed his swollen cockhead to your ring of muscle, swirling and tracing the circumference, only to move back a centimeter and slide himself right by, pressing his shaft against you instead.

You whimpered, circling your hips back for more of Zane, to apologize to him with the warmth of your hole, to make up for your lack of attention towards him by letting him milk himself inside of you—like you’d done for the others. “I-I’m sorry—Zane, please—“ Your breath hitched when Zane wrapped a hand around your throat and pulled you against his imposing chest, arching you forward.

“So, you want my cock now? Five dicks weren’t enough? You need mine to feel satisfied? Face the group. Tell them how much you love my cock,” squeezing your cheek, he forced your head to turn to his friends. They stirred in their seats, their hands back to fisting their erections again.

“I-I love Zane’s cock… I love the way he fucks me—no—the way he makes love to my hole, the way he fills me up to the brim with his thick cum, the way he milks himself and breeds me. I love that he takes his time with me, s-shows me that I’m more than just a doll for fucking,” With the way you were looking; panting from the amount of dick you had taken for the past hour, sweating from the thickened sex in the air, dripping from the loads that marked their battle claim on you; you evoked a fever that spread from one end of the circle to the other. One by one, they gathered closer, inhaling the scent of your arousal—their sex, their seed deeply embedded into your body like you had no other choice but to use them as cologne.

“I-I love that he fucks me—like he loves me,” you peeked over your shoulder to look back at him with groveling gratitude. Was it a mistake to admit this for the first time? In this moment? Where it was confessed to the public, rather than solely to Zane? Your heart raced, and Zane was well-aware as he pacified you with doting affection on your chest, roaming his free hand over the plane, tweezing your perky nipples while his other hand at your throat maintained. You brought a hand up to hold his nape, to hold you close to you because—you’d been separated from your boyfriend for far too long. You were malfunctioning, throwing yourself to every man who wanted to please you and that swollen hole of yours, and you needed Zane to ground you back to him.

And ground you he did—Zane humbled you in the process, evidently satisfied with your short monologue as the kiss he honored you with was deep and enthralling. He poured all sorts of emotion in your mouth, explored it with his tongue in midst of tucking his feelings inside of you, muttered incoherent words of affection while he was drunk on your breath feeding his lungs with life.

“I love you,” he tucked the confession into the shell of your ear and punctuated his returning feelings with one sharp charge of his thrust. The previous loads within you permeated—saturated deep into your flesh—as Zane congested your guts with his large cock, making you wail on his slow, but bellicose hips. “I. Love. You.” Zane repeated in your ear, following up with every one of his thrusts. His cock was methodical inside of you. Screwing what was loose, tightening your walls like his cock was a hammer to secure you around his girth. You felt yourself tip-toeing the floor, the thrusts catapulting your body from Zane’s strength, but there was not a second where you didn’t feel safe. His hold on you—driving into you with his cock, restricting your limbs while he showered you with the most heart-fluttering compliments—he was your sanctuary, the holiest of all places, and you felt revived.

He had his hand over your throat, vaulting your moans with a clamp, pushing you back onto your heel, but as soon as he came up again and delivered those rapturing thrusts, you returned to your natural stance on your tip-toes. You struggled to make sounds—loud mewls and whimpers that proved how absolutely fulfilling you felt in the moment. Your throat was sore and dry, and your body was exhausted and could only endure Zane for so long. You fell limp in Zane’s arms, tensing at the right moments where he penetrated your prostate. It was the unsolicited answer to your body malfunctioning.

The roll of your eyes, the spasming of your asshole, the gape of your mouth as silent moans thickened the air—you and Zane bonded as one. Your ass pushed back to meet his thrusts, creating an electrifying wave of thunderous sounds of sweaty and sticky skin clapping against each other. You felt your body ripple from Zane’s power, from his devotion to forge your hole to the shape of his cock, from his desperate need to tell you that he loved you with more than just his words. You felt every inch of him through your gut. Bent over the arm of the couch, your sweat dripped onto the leather while he fucked you against it, your skin chafing abrasively. Your knees constantly collided with the furniture, but you were too far gone, completely lost in a cycle of Zane’s affection that you didn’t realize your chin was being held up by Drew, jerking his cock over your face.

You blinked rapidly to ward off exhaustion and before you could comprehend the line forming behind him, your face was propelled with thick flying ropes of cum. Drew spilled all over you with a moan, aiming wherever, but mostly at the center. He shot at you hard, feeling himself splatter from your lips, then to your hair.

It happened rapidly, Zane’s hips seemingly quickening to sync with the group’s thunder-paced wrists. Taylor was the next person in line, pumping his hairy cock to the sight of Drew’s cum dripping off of your nose from the vigor force Zane was pummeling you from behind. With a deep grunt and a push of his hips, Taylor emptied his heavy sack, adding onto the layers of cum on your face.

You’ve seen it in the videos you’d watched. It was no good letting their hard-work go to waste. You tipped your head back and Tom helped, resting his hand at your hairline while he stroked his cock over the stains on your face. Again, he was another man to blow another thick load onto your face. Before he left, he made sure to wipe himself clean on your neck, embellishing you with his gratitude.

Then came Nico; the massive amount of loads on your face pooled as you patiently waited for his second high. Your vision was screwed, trying to peer through the cum dripping down your eyelids, but eventually you had to settle on shutting your eyes and anticipate blindly. Within seconds, you heard Nico grunt and moan, followed by another spillage onto your face. He aimed directly at your mouth, where you missed the first unforeseen shot, but quickly adapted and opened your mouth to hold his seed. The salty taste on your tongue bloomed, and whoever’s cum was trailing from the bridge of your nose, past your philtrum and into your open mouth was even saltier, making you writhe as the shudders were uncontrollable when you swallowed.

Finally, Oliver stepped up and amused himself to the heavy decoration weighing down on your face. Stroking his cock, he also played with the cum, dipping the crown of his cock into someone else’s load, scooping a white thread was dangling off your jaw and into your mouth, wiping your eyelids clean with his glans—because he wanted you to see this. He wanted you to watch him come on you with immense pride, to watch him pump the study veins in his thick cock as he indulged at the sight of your pretty eyes surrounded by the four prior men’s fulfillment. With gritted teeth, Oliver groaned from the depth of his gut and released his seed all over you. The group saved the largest load for last. Your eyes immediately clenched following one thick splatter to your lid, then the other, blurring your vision and stinging your eyes once again as Oliver targeted painting you from all corners of the face, including the ones he had helped wipe clean. He squeeze the last remaining seed, and flicked it onto your lips, groaning from the sudden sensitivity in his cock.

“Shit… you look so—” Zane groaned from behind you. He couldn’t stop marveling at it; the unholy sight of your face snowed under an ample amount of cum. The scent of the group’s sex drifted in the almost still air, and Zane ached inside of you.

You can feel the warmth emanating from his study body when he pushed his weight onto you, fucking into you harder and igniting the burn in your thighs. Peeking from one eye, your head was turned to where Zane claimed his rightful place on your lips again. His eyes flashed with hunger at the taste of someone’s cum dripping into your mouth, so he kissed harder, molding your hole to his cock and hammering into you at a breath-taking pace. There were multiple passageways the various pool of mixed semen were taking on your face. A web dangled off your cheek, a trail dripped in pursuit of the kiss, a wet clump was smushed between Zane’s nose and yours; you and Zane were a sloppy mess, and you both were baptized by the scent, the taste, and the feeling of it all.

You were gorgeous, your delicate state only adding to your appeal. One more look at you, and Zane grunted low. He reached between your thighs with his hands, so hard it hurt, and he was wild and strong, fucking into you madly while knocking your breath into a state of stasis. His hips smacked against your ass, faster and faster, and your body was up in flames. Every thrust felt punishing, like he wanted to condemn you for seducing him—for loving him—but if this was punishment, you needed to find more ways to anger him, to love him.

You whimpered into his growls, his firm hands pulled you impossibly closer by the thighs, clutching and fucking you back onto his cock, as he raptured himself into you. He stroked the inside of your mouth, his tongue feeling fat and warm, savoring the taste of salty seed on your tongue, and he groaned into you once more. He grunted and growled like an animal, powered by the group watching in awe, the ravenous noise reverberating through your guts, and you feel the eruption of cum dousing your flesh, deep in your guts, his large cock pulsating in you.

The pleasure hit you like a lightning bolt. Your thighs shook, your hole spasmed, and you rut against his swelling cock, pleasured and soothed by the warmth and thickness of his steaming cum. His release had him quivering against your back, his face tucked inside the crook of your neck while he rocked slowly, breeding you.

“So good, you’re so fucking good…” Zane muttered weakly, panting and mouthing against the back of your ear.

“So full—“ you groaned at the heavy weight of dick in you, then hissed when Zane bucked his hips once more, kissing the crown of his cock to the mouth of your prostate, as if it was a reminder for you that he owned you.

Obscene noises came from his cock plunging your ass with cum—more cum, as you struggled to contain another load, and felt it drip down to your ankles. You sighed, taking it all in—taking Zane in—and slumped over the arm of the couch, heaving a euphoric sigh of relief, relishing in the high-yielding pleasure that was Zane’s cock, dazzling by the lights above you—the stars.

“You guys okay?” laughing at the group’s sudden exhaustion, Zane refused to pull away from you. His hands curled around your hips, then carefully maneuvered himself to lie on the couch with him, still buried to the root of your hole.

“Better than a smoke,” Drew yawned, rubbing his large hand over your ankle by virtue of exceeding his expectations. Nico petted at your head, the spent look on your face charming when you turned towards him and weakly smiled. Tom and Oliver were quiet, still recovering from their orgasm. When you caught their gaze, they held up their thumb once before plummeting back onto the floor.

“Fuck, man—you were great,” Taylor slumped against the foot of the couch, limbs sprawled from the exhaust of muscles, but he joined in on the caressing of your leg, squeezing at your calf, nearly rendering you to sleep.

One by one, the group fell to a silence, a gentle slumber despite the hardwood floors forewarning a few of them of a back ache the next morning. You watched peacefully, the caressing of your body slowly coming to a halt, and then looked back at Zane, collapsed onto your back, drifting into sleep with the gentle snores near your ear.

Hopefully by morning—Zane would tell you that you fulfilled on your promise.

He was the luckiest man alive.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

does tom welling know i'd let him end my life in a second?

will netflix stop splitting shows into parts without it being of any necessity? one of these days they're getting the allegiant treatment iktr

His Love to Keep

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Prince (Y/N) Targaryen and his cousin-wife, Princess Rhaenyra, have never truly seen eye to eye after she replaced his father as heir and removed him from line of succession. They both find lovers to keep their beds warm but with age and time comes the desire to redo things.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, mentions of marital SA, affairs/cheating on all sides rlly, moon tea usage, mentions of religious guilt?, implied rhaenicent, love triangle trope, canon divergent/AU, sexual/suggestive content, Targcest (Cousins), Rhaenyra is described with her book accurate appearance/body type

About fucking time I did one of these. fuck team black and team green I'm team milf 💪

~~~

"Must you truly go?"

"It is my duty, Alicent."

"Those boys are bastards," Alicent spoke softly, the cup in hand warming her palms as the subtle smell of tansy and mint drifted from the steam brushing along her skin. She watched ripples form in the tea with the slightest of movements, unable to swallow down the nerves beginning to bubble up underneath her skin. "You are not bound to them. They are not your sons."

"I scarcely see them and they still burst with excitement when I visit." (Y/N) strode forward to close the distance between them, his fingers reaching out to brush aside a curled strand of her auburn hair. Alicent lifted her head toward him, the ghost of a smile gracing her lips when his palm pressed against her cheek and she leaned into it. "They may not be my sons by blood but they are by marriage. They must at least feel cared for, even if once every few moons."

Alicent pursed her lips, her big brown eyes peering up at him. "Would you travel to Dragonstone more often if they were yours?" She asked tentatively, gingerly setting the moon tea on the table and rising from her chair. He watched her, his arm encircling her waist when she grew closer, the soft fabric of her thin nightgown rubbing along his arm. "Or would you return to me as you so often do?"

(Y/N) chuckled breathily, his (E/C) eyes crinkling with amusement and his free hand rising to cup her cheek once more. He leaned in and kissed her gently, their eyes fluttering shut as they exchanged breaths. Alicent's arms slipped around his shoulders and pressed her body close to his, eager to soak up whatever she could before they'd be forced apart again by duty. The back of her hips met the side of the table and she leaned back against it, her leg lifting off the ground as her heel dug its way up his calf and thigh until she hooked her leg around his waist. 

"Do not go." She asked pleadingly when they pulled apart for air, her hold on his shoulders tightening briefly when he lifted her up and set her at the edge of the table. Her fingers tugged at the laces in the front of her dress and the sleeves went slack, slipping off her shoulders and threatening to go past her elbows. "You can correspond through ravens." She told him, the pout that'd formed on her lips being kissed away.

His hand slipped beneath her nightgown, forcing it upwards until it rested around her hips. He squeezed the flesh of her thigh where fading marks resided, his lips ghosting over her throat and collarbone. "I have visited Dragonstone plenty of times, Alicent. You have never been against it before." He reminded her, his lips pressing against the valley between her chest as the dress slipped further down until it fully pooled around her hips. 

Alicent's head tilted backward, her soft curls tumbling past her shoulders and grazing along the table. She braced her elbows against the smooth wood, unable to find any excuse apart from worry and a hint of jealousy but her inexplicable mind hardly allowed her to comprehend who exactly she was jealous of if tides shifted between the couple; Rhaenyra or her lover. Ser Harwin had passed some years prior and she'd heard little of Rhaenyra growing close to anyone else since then. It both filled her with dread and intrigue. 

"I have been against you allowing yourself to be seen playing father to those boys. She makes a mockery of you." Alicent said breathily, her legs parting and revealing herself as bare as the previous night when she'd gone to him in hopes of convincing him to remain in Dragonstone. It'd been a fruitless yet enjoyable attempt. 

"She makes a mockery of herself and her father." (Y/N) rebutted swiftly, his hands briefly leaving her thighs to unbutton his loose pants. 

A shuddering breath escaped Alicent when she felt him push inside, the act so familiar yet it still felt unknown to her. Viserys had never cared for her comfort or pleasure during acts of 'passion', only chasing his own pleasure whilst her mind drifted elsewhere. But in the arms of a lover who truly desired her, everything felt different. Every touch felt electrifying, every kiss left butterflies behind, and every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure up her spin. She remained mindful of the early hour in the morrow; many courtiers and servants had the habit of rising with the sun and traveling through the halls of the castle. 

Her arm curled around his neck when he buried his face into the nape of hers, her other hand digging into the fabric of his shoulder and crinkling it as her nails pressed through to his skin. Quiet and soft pants, sighs, and moans escaped her parted lips, her teeth digging into her lip whenever her voice edged toward a louder volume that would alert those passing by the doors to her bedchambers. She'd already instructed her trusted handmaiden to send away those who wished an audience but she'd hardly be a match for anyone alerted by the noise. 

Alicent's hand slapped down on the table, curling her fingers around the edge to stabilize herself and the creaking furniture. Part of her felt guilty for engaging in the sinful act of laying with another while bound by the vows of marriage; guilty for betraying the lingering love she held for Rhaenyra and the trust the kingdom had put upon her shoulders when she wed Viserys. She'd pray in the sept later in the day, asking to be absolved of her sins but the prince was too addicting to give up for Gods she found herself straying further and further away from. 

Her back arched with her abrupt high and he claimed her lips before she could cry out, muffling the noise and the ones that followed when he continued. She clung onto him, and perhaps clung to the idea he'd be tempted to remain at her side as well, the air escaping her lungs and legs caging around him in a tight hold. Her mind grew clouded from the pleasure and near overstimulation, filling her head with thoughts of carrying his child and finally giving him a proper heir to Runestone, but she would not sully him with another bastard as Rhaenyra had. Perhaps in another time, her children would've been his and they would've been happier far from the suffocating walls of the Keep.

She thought of that life often, and it plagued her when she watched his dragon disappear over the vast sea while the horrid taste of the moon tea danced on her tongue.

Despite having her darling sons to keep her company and the occasional visits from her uncle and young cousins.. nothing ever changed the heart-aching loneliness that'd clawed its way into Rhaenyra's chest following the Year of the Red Spring. She'd lost the three people closest to her, the few who knew her secrets and worries. It pained her to know she'd never feel Harwin's warm embrace or hear Laena's mischievous laughter or watch the way Laenor's eyes sparkled when he spoke of his lover. She had few friends in the Keep and even fewer on the isolated island of Dragonstone. 

Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around herself, the sleeves of her dress providing little warmth against the natural chill of Dragonstone from the sea breeze. She strode down the halls in contemplation, although she likely appeared more like a lost ghost forever forced to wander. The letter that'd arrived the previous day had been short and with little details but it'd been from her husband informing her of his arrival to visit 'the boys'. 

Her lips quirked and she sighed through her nose. 'The boys', always 'the boys' or 'your sons but never 'our sons' despite the fact he was the only father they'd ever known. Harwin had been forced to play the part of a friendly uncle figure, forced to watch his children scurry to the feet of a man who treated them with polite affection over genuine love. Rhaenyra hardly found blame within herself. He'd left her alone in the Keep after their wedding, and it'd only been through a letter begging him to return that he'd begrudgingly flown back to see her. The irritation on his face when she explained her newfound predicament- the possibility of being pregnant- had nearly enraged her but he agreed to pretend as if the boys had inherited their brown hair and softer features from his late mother. 

Her attention tugged away from her thoughts and onto the long shadow along the floor peeking out from the balcony, her step quickening slightly to have a peek at the person standing there. She smiled immediately upon seeing Luke with his arms braced against the stone railing and his head tilted toward the clouds in the direction of King's Landing, a bright sparkle in his vibrant eyes. She approached him, settling her hands over his shoulders as she pecked the back of his head. 

"Will you ask him, Mother?" Luke questioned, pressing himself further against the railing as he combed the clouds for any sign of (Y/N) or his dragon. 

"If you can travel with him to Runestone?" Rhaenyra chuckled at the barely contained excitement in his voice despite the ache and tug at her heartstrings. The mere thought of parting with her sweet boy filled her with longing, and they'd yet to even ask (Y/N) if it'd be alright. "I will ask him, Luke. I am certain he'll be more than pleased to show you Runestone and its many ports. You must pay close attention. You will rule it someday."

Luke grimaced at that. "Wouldn't that mean Father has died?" His head turned to peer up at her with those big striking eyes of his; eyes she'd never be able to deny, now more than ever when they reminded her of the shade of Harwin's. 

"Oh, my darling," Rhaenyra cooed, running her fingers through his soft curls. "Ruling does not always entail someone has died. Does Princess Rhaenys not rule Driftmark as her husband's regent while he recovers from his injury? If your... father were to fall ill or sustain an injury that confines him to his bed and you are of age, you would rule in his steed with the help of your great-uncle. You would rule if I were to fall ill and your father had to rule as regent in King's Landing." 

Her words seemed to ease Luke, his hair flopping lightly against his forehead when he nodded and his lips tugging into that smile of his that could brighten the dullest of days. They both turned toward the skies when a deepened screech echoed through the quiet afternoon air and they watched a large figure descend from the clouds and skim the water with its wings. Suvion released another cry when he drew closer, one that seemingly roused his mother and son. In the distance, Rhaenyra faintly made out Silverwing and Arrax's cries in response.

"Father!" Luke leaped away and hurried into the hallway, his feet slapping against the stone floor as he raced toward the entrance leading into Dragonmont. 

Taking a deep inhale, Rhaenyra released it in a sigh and followed after her son, hands clutching the deep red of her skirts and lifting the ends to quicken her pace. She couldn't help but chuckle at Luke's excitement despite the way her heart twisted at the knowledge he'd never have a chance to be excited over his real father. She caught Luke taking Joffery's small hand in his and tugging him further into the entrance of the cave system where (Y/N) would dismount, and found Jace lingering with twisted lips and sullen eyes.

"Jace," She called softly, releasing her skirts to place her hand on his arm. "Are you not excited to greet your father?"

"Is he excited to see us?" Jace asked glumly and Rhaenyra winced. "He has resided in King's Landing for days and has not spared us a single visit in moons. Must he make it any more obvious that we are of little importance to him?" 

Before Rhaenyra could respond, Jace stalked inside, ever the polite one even in his disappointment and anger. She sighed once more and followed him inside, squinting through the light pouring into the cave from the opening on the side and blinking until her eyes adjusted. (Y/N) climbed off Suvion and cooed quietly to his dragon as he slipped his gloves off, handing them to the nearby servant. Suvion chirped softly and dipped down, disappearing into one of the many tunnels within Dragonmont. 

Luke stopped a few feet away from him and dipped his head in respect before releasing Joffery's hand and lunging himself forward. He swung his arms around (Y/N)'s waist and pressed his cheek into his chest, a gleeful smile on his face. Little Joffery clumsily bowed as well and shuffled forward to cling onto (Y/N)'s leg. (Y/N) chuckled at their affection and patted Luke's head, murmuring some words Rhaenyra couldn't hear and leaning down to take Joffery into his arms. 

"Husband," Rhaenyra greeted when he approached, the word still foreign on her tongue despite the many years since their wedding. She hoped to remedy that for the sake of her sons and before loneliness could consume her whole. 

"Rhaenyra," (Y/N) nodded, his brows twitching at the use of his martial title but his face smoothed over into a polite smile when he turned to Jace and offered him Joffery. Rhaenyra felt thankful, in a way, that the years he'd spent attached to her father's hip had eased him into a calmer man. She feared what would have become of him if he'd only been raised by Daemon. 

Gingerly taking his little brother, Jace bowed his head, his lips pulled into a thin line. "My Prince." He greeted and Rhaenyra hoped her sharp inhale had gone unnoticed by her younger sons. "I hope your flight was well." 

"It was, though I am in need of a bath and some rest." (Y/N) told them, his hand brushing over Luke's head one last time before he slipped past them and began heading toward the castle. "I'll see you at supper." He called over his shoulder. 

Rhaenyra bit her inner cheek and spared her children a glance, her legs turning and catching up with her husband. She caught his arm and slipped hers around it, glancing over her shoulder at her boys. "Your belongings in the Sea Dragon Tower have been moved to my bedchambers." She told him quietly.

"And why so?"

"Because you are my husband." Rhaenyra scoffed. "Is that not reason enough? Must I get on my knees and beg for my husband to sleep in the same room as me?"

"You only wish to sleep in the same room as me when you are pregnant with another man's child, Rhaenyra. You ought to learn to ask for moon tea when you sleep with a lover. You've already doomed your two eldest." (Y/N) tugged his arm free from her hold, his lip curled slightly in irritation. "What is it now?"

"It is as I said. It is truly so absurd to desire time with the man I married or do you detest the idea so much you'd rather humiliate me by refusing?" Rhaenyra questioned, her voice rising in volume and eyes fiery as they both stalked toward her bedchambers. Servants clumsily bowed and stepped out of the way from them, their eyes wide with exchanged glances. "When will you grace us with an inch of maturity, I wonder, or will you forever act as a scorned child? It was your father whose ambition and loose tongue stripped him of his title as heir!" 

"It is amusing to hear you speak of maturity, Rhaenyra; it is like a jester speaking of dignity." (Y/N) spat back.

The doors to her apartments were opened hastily by the guard and swiftly shut behind them. (Y/N)'s strides were broken when he took a moment to observe his surroundings, only moving once he noticed the pitcher full of wine and filled a cup to the brim. Rhaenyra watched him drink from it, her chest heaving from her annoyance. She took a deep breath in hopes of calming herself and felt the emotion ease down whilst he rid himself of his riding clothes. 

"We recently learned of your long stay in King's Landing. They will question you as to why you have not come sooner... and I would like to know the answer, too. I know my father's health has been steadily worsening through the years but I doubt you are of any help to the maesters dedicated to ensuring he heals." Rhaenyra approached him from behind, her hands resting upon his shoulders and helping slip the undershirt off his body. She let it drop onto the pile of clothing on the floor and inched closer, the palms of her hands running along his warm skin. She felt a subtle small bump, her brows furrowing as she traced it and quickly recognized it as fading scratch marks. She stilled. "Unless there are other reasons for your visits..." 

He only exhaled through his nose and remained silent. Rhaenyra staggered backward at his lack of response, her widening eyes watching him shed the last of his clothing and step into the warm water within the tub. Her mind flickered through the various courtiers she recalled resided in the Keep prior to her departure to Dragonstone.

It was hypocritical, she knew, to grow so uneasy at the thought of him with another. He'd been indifferent to the years Harwin spent at her side and while she'd always wondered if he'd taken a lover of his own, she always believed it'd be someone from one of the lesser houses in the Vale over someone just a ride away. There were many beautiful ladies residing in the Keep but as always, Rhaenyra's mind lingered on her old friend. 

"I suspected the reason you never cared for Harwin was because you had your own lover waiting in Runestone... yet now I am led to believe that lover calls King's Landing home. What would Queen Alicent say, I wonder, if she grew to learn of your doings beneath her nose and watchful eyes? She's always been so righteous... I am certain even with the animosity between us, she'd ask of you to return to your wife." Rhaenyra swallowed thickly, watching him as he cleaned himself. "Who is it? You knew of mine, I wish to know of yours."

"I find it hard to understand you, Rhaenyra." He muttered. "You always pined for freedom and adventure yet accepted the title of heir; you defended your inheritance yet fled the Keep because of mere court gossip; you never longed for children yet allowed the seed of Breakbones to sprout life three times; you never desired this marriage yet now wish to keep me close after years. Who I lay with is of little interest to you when any other man would have found grounds for a divorce all those years ago."

"You never gave us a chance or have you forgotten you climbed atop Suvion the morrow after our wedding and abandoned me to be in Runestone?" A hot flash of anger jolted through her body, her fingers curling into fits. She often thought of that morning, of rising after a night of angry passion only to discover her new husband had left without a word. It'd been the only time they'd properly been with one another and she'd been left wondering if she'd disappointed him enough for him to believe the marriage was merely an inconvenience. 

"Would you have rather I missed the funeral of my mother?" (Y/N) shot her a glare over his shoulder and tossed aside the sponge, satisfied with his bath and rising to dry himself.

Rhaenyra's swift anger stilled, unable to stop her eyes from wandering. It'd been long since she'd last seen him fully undressed, and even then the memories of their only time together were a whirlwind. He'd always been a fine-looking prince, especially in his youth when he still carried the air of youthful arrogance befitting of a prince. He'd certainly grown into a handsome man, one with mixtures of Targaryen and Royce features that melted together perfectly. 

Rhaenyra forced herself to swallow the spiteful words ready on her tongue and she turned, retrieving a maroon-colored robe with golden designs and approaching him. He eyed her but nonetheless allowed her to help him dress. "I would have rather you spoken to me. I may have been.. reckless and rebellious in my youth but I would not have refused to accompany you. I could have been convinced into waiting for your return but you made your opinion clear. Did you truly never long for a wife all those lonely years in Runestone? Did you never long for.. what could have been?"

"We were children, Rhaenyra. I was a child forced into an abrupt marriage and then forced to deal with the passing of my mother while my family spoke of their suspicion of my father killing her. I had little time to think of a wife who disliked me when I had to learn to rule Runestone and sedate the thirst for revenge in my family. Perhaps these past few years I've thought of having true children that are mine but we've made our beds, Rhaenyra. What's done is done."

"You speak as if I am not still your wife." Rhaenyra released a huff of amusement, her hand smoothing over the front of the robe and feeling the soft fabric. Her fingers dipped beneath the robes and roamed until her thumb brushed over the trail of hair leading further down. He made a noise in the back of his throat but when he did nothing to push her away, Rhaenyra found victory. "I am still of childbearing age, (Y/N). I too have longed for a babe in recent times. I've desired a girl for much time now that Jace and Luke will soon be man-grown and beginning their own families." 

(Y/N)'s eyes jumped away from her, his brows slightly dipping together and jaw subtly ticking. She wondered if he thought of his lover and how she would react to the news, and Rhaenyra felt a hint of satisfaction despite the curiosity swirling around her chest. She wanted a name and a face to put to the woman who'd likely cloud her mind for the rest of her life. It'd always been expected of ladies to tolerate the mistresses of their husbands but Rhaenyra could hardly see herself allowing such a thing

"I am certain this is the very reason my lover did not wish for me to come here." (Y/N) sighed and Rhaenyra blinked at him, unable to comprehend why then he'd flown to Dragonstone if the person he did care about asked of him otherwise. Her heart fluttered at the possibilities. 

She pressed her hand to the nape of his neck and pulled him closer, bringing her lips over his and sighing in relief as their lips moved together. "She will have to understand and bring herself to forgive," Rhaenyra said, already breathless and eager. It'd been so, so long since she'd last felt the touch of another. 

He grunted into her mouth when her fingers curled around him and pumped him slowly, delighting in the feeling of him fully hardening against her hand. She'd always been a lustful creature, she supposed, always hungering for the feeling of pleasure and power over someone else in such intimate acts.

(Y/N) had always been someone out of reach, both literally and figuratively, so having him shuddering against her and grazing his tongue against hers only fueled her desire. Rhaenyra savored each grunt, hiss, and needy kiss as she stroked him, running her fingers along the slit and coating her skin. 

Her dress loosened when he undid the laces at the back of her gown with expertise. She relished the quiet, muffled huff that left him when she retracted her hand to peel the sleeves off her arms and allow the dress to slump down at their feet with her undergarments quickly following. He leaned back to observe her, his eyes taking in the newfound curves of her body she'd obtained from age and multiple pregnancies. Much of the weight from bearing children had remained, remolding her body into something new and far from the girl he'd consummated his marriage with.

Rhaenyra grinned at the flicker of hunger in his eyes before the grin vanished with a gasp as he latched onto her neck and pulled her closer. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around him, quiet sighs and gasps leaving her with each nip and suckle at her throat. They stumbled back toward the bed and Rhaenyra pushed at his shoulders until he sat at the edge, parting briefly with each other before she settled on his lap. 

Cradling his face in her hands, she pressed another kiss to his lips. "Today and every day til I am with child, you are mine and mine alone."

Jax: "You've got the nicest body I've ever seen. I don't think I'm done, how can I ever get enough of you?" Jax Hayes & Johnny Donovan Jax & Deacon, 2019 - S**n Cody