come all ye pretty fair maids

му нєαят ιѕ pιєяcє∂ ву cυρι∂ ι ∂ιѕ∂αιи αιι gιιттєяιиg gσι∂

[adirtydream-blog1]

∴∵∴ D R E A M I N G ∴∵∴

[adirtydream-blog1]

          Warmth touched her cheeks, turning them the most subtle shade of sweet pink. “As do I…” Mary returned the expression he gave her, though hers were less easy, less like silk. Her smile were brighter, younger, like sunbeams. A girl’s smile, one she hadn’t worn in many years, which said something for a person as young as she.

          Their eyes locked just as their hands did, and with every second to pass while connected, a gradual, invisible, undeniable force drew her yet closer to him. Their chests touched. She inhaled slow and deep. Something changed in the air. It muffled the sweet, sourceless melody and slowed the steps in their effortless dance until they were still again.  From his diamond-like stare, her gaze lowered to admire the thin lines of his mouth. She wondered on the kiss a mouth like that might give, or what a kiss were like at all.

          “We’ve stopped dancing,” she whispered and found her voice were still too loud amidst that thick silence. Her fingers constricted his ever so slightly. “I don’t want it to end.” 

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

So they had. Still, they stood. Quiet. His eyes were filled with her and yet, they wished for more. Every alluring line of her pretty face, he studied. “Neither do I,” he confessed, his voice but a whisper.

Enraptured by her as he was, a swell of energy swept up within him as if it possessed the force of a great wave coaxed by a spring storm. Without realizing it, he was descending. The grazing of his mouth on hers was brief, just at first, a soft brush as though he tested the limits and attempted to restrain himself to society’s standards.

Yet then, he fell. The wave crashed and all sense of decorum was swept away in its strength. He swore he could hear the sound of the sea in his ears, but maybe it was just the rushing of his blood. Sucked in, his head turned and his lips pressed more fully, more firmly to hers.

A cold wind brushed him, tugged at his hair, and it felt as though it were adorned by the soft droplets of the sea. His mouth pulled from hers and rather than standing within a hall, they seemed to be the only two souls on a strip of white sand, sea on either side of them. Yet his eyes were only for her, for the red in her cheeks and the shine in her eyes. “My apologies,” he breathed, but still remained close to her, “that was forward of me.”

[adirtydream-blog1]

            Don swallowed. He fucked it up, he thought, watching her watching him with that deep-as-ocean stare. But, for the first time in his life, he held onto patience, and it paid off. Werewolf. He always forgot. There were nothing about Rhea Steyn which made her seem any different, any more wrong, than any other person on the whole god-forsaken planet. But he knew the world as a whole was a goddamned hypocrite. Not once did he cast his eyes anywhere other than her face. He didn’t cower at the truths she confessed, though they made his insides s q u e e z e with anger unlike he’d felt in ages. Don got it - he understood it - but he didn’t get it.

            Rhea was still… Rhea. People got sick all the time. People were sick for all sorts of reasons, so why, WHY the bullshit? Why should Rhea have to wake up confused and terrified? Why should she be blamed for the horrors committed by a thing out of her control? Why, thought Don, should the victim be blamed? He stared at her hard, eyes shining with the rage that made his heart pound its war dream beat in his chest. If anyone suffered at the hands of the curse, it were her, not those all around who treated her like some kind of plague. His name dropped from her lips, and just like that, he blinked away the anger in his stare. The things she said made him suck air in fast through his nose, and finally, he looked away.

           “Stop it,” he mumbled. “Rhea. Stop.” He could hear the tears gather in her words. He could feel the pain laced into every constricted syllable. An argument readied on his tongue, down to battle with whatever reason she thought she had about not being with him - which was brand spanking fucking new to him - but never got a chance to spew it. The tune changed. Her words changed. She was smiling. Rhea Steyn said, “I love you," and the world stopped turning. Or, Don’s world did, at least.  "You…" he stumbled, frowning, "You love me?” A childlike light twinkled in his eyes for the split second he stared at her before standing suddenly from the chair. It screeched as it slid against the wood and Don was striding fast alongside the table.

           His hands reached out quick, his palms cupped her jaw, and he brought his lips hard down upon hers. He shook. From his fingertips to his breaths, he shuddered. Electricity flushed thought, leaving only that which kept his lips so hotly pressed to hers. And when he pulled away his eyes shook with unshed tears. “I fucking love you, Rhea Steyn, and you are normal. You are to me.” His hold softened. Her warm, brown skin were like fire beneath his stroking fingers, and he could not stop trembling.

          “You don’t get to lock yourself away from me. You don’t even get to think about it. I won’t let you do that to yourself. I’ll be there the days you’re sick, and the days you’re well. I’ll be there when you need me and when you don’t. I’ll be there no matter what the fuck the world thinks. I’ll be there no matter how fucked up the process is. Don’t ever think that again, about leaving me for my own good. And don’t fight it. Don’t fight it. Fuck reason, if that’s what you think reason is. I love you too. Fuck, I-… I’m here now, and I am not going away.”

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

“You love me?”

“Yes!” She barely breathed the word, caught somewhere between laughter and tears, the emotions so thick and joyful that she felt as though she couldn’t form one cohesive thought.

Quickly, he came to her and just as eagerly, her lips met his. The hands in her lap wanted to be on him and she lifted her arms as her head turned, ready to put them wherever they might go on his body when Donovan pulled away, just slightly, and her hands rested again on her thighs. Her eyes moved over his face, looking at everything, at how affected he was. At how she could see the love there before he even spoke it, but hearing it meant that much more. Everything that poured forth from him, with all the unschooled passion that he possessed, reached in to grasp about her heart and squeeze it twice as hard. A shuddering breath left her mouth, tears of happiness glossing her eyes, her smile achingly wide on her face.

Finally, she pushed herself up to her feet; let her fingers run up his chest, laying her arms on his broad shoulders. No amount of spoken gratitude would make up for how thankful she was for him and the words he said. No matter how many times she told him she loved him, it wouldn’t be enough. Instead, Rhea Steyn pushed up on her toes and laid her lips fully against his, throwing all her cherishment and thankfulness into her kiss.

Caution thrown to the wind, she pulled her mouth away only to tell him, “don’t. Don’t ever leave. I’m yours, Don.” Then her mouth was on his again, as though she couldn’t keep herself from being drawn to wanting to have him in every way she could.

[adirtydream-blog1]

"You said you had no people, but I look at those…” said Gideon as his studious eyes traced the amorphous purples and blues that stained her peach skin, “… and I think you’re lying. If you’re not, well then… Explain.”

At last, that military stare sank again into her eyes even if they didn’t look back at him. An idea formed - a guess - and he waited patiently to read her face when (if) she answered him. Every slight movement, every tiny detail would tell him - or rather, they would whisper - the reality of her words. Like he’d told her, he’d know.

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

For a moment, there was silence. Silence as she weighed the thickness which seemed wound tight in a ball at the back of her throat. Alice wasn’t the kind of person who lied when it was something she was angry about. In fact, she hardly ever lied unless she was ashamed of something she’d done and only to certain people. “He’s dead.” She said, voice plain, eyes dropping down to her bound wrists in her lap, tracing her fingers. Those fingers had taken that sharp kitchen blade and stabbed… and stabbed… and stabbed…

“Before this… thing… happened… I was a whore. I mean, they call it escort but, really, I was a whore. A stripper first, but the money wasn’t what it could be if I just said fuck it. So I did… and one night I was with a client,” her voice wavered slightly and she swallowed back the crawling sickness which rose in the pit of her stomach. “Then everything went to shit. He was one of those apocalypse nuts. Listened to all the conspiracy’s, paid a fortune to install a bomb shelter, stocked shelves with non-perishables… one of those. At first it seemed like I good idea to just stick with him rather than go out into the streets. I mean, it was fucking chaos. Everyone was screaming, driving, crashing… figured I’d just bunker down with him for a night or two while everything calmed down and resurface when it was clear. All he wanted in return was to fuck me, which seemed like a fair enough exchange for my life. It’s already what I’d been doing my whole life.”

She kept staring into the fire, but seeing the past rather than the present. “Only it didn’t calm down… not like I thought it would. He started to really lose it to the point it started scaring me. Talking under his breath to himself and shit… he didn’t seem all there… so finally I thought I’d had enough, didn’t want to be stuck with crazy for the rest of eternity, you know?” Her eyes darted to him and then away again as she shrugged. “Told him I was heading out and he… flipped. Started hitting me, I fought back but he grabbed something, a fucking bat he had in case intruders came in, and hit me good enough that I fell down. Once I was down he was on me with the rope.” She glared at the zip tie around her wrists and swallowed back her loathing and sickness.

“He… he just lost it. Talking to himself more, going into these crazy ass rage fits… to which a naked girl who’s tied up and unable to get away is a pretty good thing to use to get his anger out on.” She tried; fuck… she tried to keep her voice and expression blank. Because if she didn’t, she might start screaming or, worse, she might actually cry. A few times as she spoke her voice wavered, but she swallowed or cleared her throat, or took a sharp inhale to keep it from happening. She’d be damned if she let that fuck have any strength over her now that he’d got what was coming to him. “Anyways,” she said, shifting where she sat, “I finally got my hands loose enough, when he was patrolling the perimeter as he called it, I got a knife and pretended to be tied up, goaded him into coming for me and when he was close enough, stabbed that fucker right in the throat.”

She paused, sliding her eyes to him. “So just keep that in mind, last guy that had me tied up didn’t fair to well.” Her haughty tone was a tease, pushing away at the heaviness of the prior conversation and hating how exposed it made her feel. It was just easier to threaten him or to joke, to play it off as though she hadn’t been captive to a psychotic rapist for the past few… however long it was. Alice had lost count long ago.

[myfamiliartasteofpoison-deactiv]

He loved everything about her face, the little imperfections in her teeth, the way her smile was rarer than a falling star yet many times more beautiful. And Maen often wondered if it was the same one she wore to work, if that soft smile was just a mask. He’d thought about it many times, the hungry gaze of those men and women, eyeing Alice up like a piece of meat. But, the man had never managed to bring himself to that club, to see what she did to pay her way. He couldn’t do it. 

Why did she leave the door open? Why? Maen groaned inwardly as his cheeks reddened, flushing a deep shade of beet. Forcing his eyes away from the washroom, away from her, the man pushed up to his feet to fetch the towels and pyjamas he had promised. Clean, if mismatched, he grabbed the nicest of his towels, the fancy ones he’d won in some silly raffle and a set of his nightwear. Not that he ever slept in them, they’d always been more for hungover mornings and lazy Sundays. Shyly, like a startled deer, Maen slipped into the washroom with his eyes averted and left the towels and clothes for her before scurrying away.

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

Her fingers worked in her thick, dark hair, and the shape of Maen entering the washroom came and went just as quickly. Mischievous, Alice couldn’t help the way a little grin curled across her mouth. She’d known what she’d done. Why it was so amusing to her to tease Maen, she wasn’t certain. Maybe it was because she couldn’t often tease these days. Most men and women assumed they knew what they were going to get when it came to Alice and they only desired one thing: sex. Maen was different. He hadn’t sought her out because of that. Because of his desires.

The water sputtered to a stop and she drew the curtain back, water dripping from her nude body as she reached for the towels and patted herself dry with one, grabbing up the mismatched pajamas to tug them on before using the dry towel to wrap up her hair.

Freshly cleaned and changed, she folded her old clothes into a little pile and walked out of the washroom. “Maen?” She called out, looking for him. “Did you decide which movie?”

[adirtydream-blog1]

                     “Good,” he said and kissed her forehead. Julien briefly wondered how anyone could overlook something he found so precious, so unbelievably rare, and perfect. But he didn’t exactly view the world like most, he reminded himself. Bailey’s question distracted him from those deep-as-ocean thoughts that could drag him beneath the surface for impossible amounts of time.

"Hornbeam Café, I think." Julien  lifted both brows as he smiled and slithered his fingers between her small ones. "I know," he said as they walked. "It hardly sounds very muggle, does it? But it is. The muggle free spirits and earthy sort go there. Vegetarian and vegan options. Cozy. I think you’ll like it." Through the walk and quick tube trip to Hornbeam Café, Julien told Bailey of the times he’d sit and watch the people pass in peace. He told her of the stacked, used paint pots outside the front; of the short and changing menu; that their Apple Cake was the best thing on the menu; that their potato and leek soup was the second best; and how friendly the staff tended to be. And it were just as he whispered to Bailey that they’d take home a jar of jam no matter what that they came upon the place. The door was closed to stop the bitter winter out, but the sign clearly read OPEN.

"Go on," he said to her with a grin on his mouth, and opened an arm toward the door for her to go in first. His eyes never left her when he’d followed inside. Many young witches were never afforded visits to muggle places, and many were even warned against such an adventure, but Bailey - Julien knew - would fall in love with the muggle world.

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

Between the spaces of his fingers, hers fit perfectly. Her hand became wrapped in his as they started down the walkway, the wizarding world she’d known at her back and the muggle world at her front. She listened intently to everything Julien said, but the further they were immersed in a world that was naïve to magic, the more her eyes darted everywhere but him. Anytime there was something of interest, or something peculiar that she was unfamiliar with, Bailey would (with wide eyes trained on the subject) whisper to Julien and ask him to explain what it was. In muggle studies during her early school years she’d learned of a few things, but she’d never actually seen it in person. Only sketches in books and the like.

Eventually she began to pay complete attention to Julien again (how could she not?) and the craving for the food he talked of had her mouth watering. She gasped happily as he told her they’d take home a jar of jam and then her gaze lifted toward the café, her smile wide as she looked upon the building and how it was everything Julien had spoken of and more.

Inside they went and Bailey’s brown eyes sparkled with wonder. To any muggle it was just a charming little café filled with personal touches, but to Bailey it was so much more. Her head, having turned this way and that to look everywhere, finally turned toward Julien, her smile wide and honest on her lips as it often was.

“It’s so beautiful here!” She told him, and her fingers squeezed a little tighter on his hand.

[adirtydream-blog1]

◊ I · WANT · MORE ◊

[adirtydream-blog1]

They were definitely going. This was happening. Instead of a boring night spent laying in her bed, texting Bailey to death, Raphael was taking her out shopping for an obscenely expensive dress that she’d only wear one night of her life. Mary couldn’t help the wicked twist of her lips she she followed him with her eyes until he rounded the corner. Mary only smiled to herself for a few seconds more before she jogged to her room to change into something better suited for being out and about. The change was easy, makeup already done, and she headed back into the living room where she expected him to be.

Only, he wasn’t. Mary knew she ought to just sit herself down on the couch and text Bailey about the latest update in her life, but the little voice of reason were brushed aside (as it often were these days). As silent as the dead, Mary stepped down the hall toward his door. She pressed her ear to its cool surface. Some words were muffled, but one thing were very clear. There were plans and now… there weren’t. 

Such a strange triumph. Should she be so happy to have him to herself instead of having to schedule around some woman he was seeing? Mary hadn’t exactly been warm to him, she knew, and she owed him more than she ever pretended to know. Yet… the sense of absolute entitlement covered her with its sticky permanence. When the call ended, Mary quickly shuffled back down the hall, swept her purse onto her arm, and pretended to text. She looked up when he sat in her peripherals, and couldn’t help the shit-eating grin. “Oooo, trying to impress someone?” she teased. “Going to pick up a date for later? Might be kind of hard with me hanging around.”

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

His head turned, blue eyes falling onto her settled on the couch, waiting for him. A grin cracked over his mouth as he shook his head. “No, you’re stuck with me tonight. Not pushing me off that easy.” He liked this, he thought. He liked her teasing him, smiling around him… being anything more than a distant, quiet thing. It bothered him somewhat that he liked it, considering at the start of this arrangement he’d been determined to be nothing more to her than a home for the year until she turned eighteen, so he tried to mentally shove away the bit of warmth daring to grow.

His phone chirped in his pocket as he started across the room and he fished it out, glancing absentmindedly down at the screen. A picture message from the woman he’d canceled on along with a preview of a text that simply read ‘Here’s what you’re missing’. Raphael knew better than to open or acknowledge it, and instead sucked in a breath through his nose and shoved the phone back away.

“So!” He jingled the keys to his sleek, expensive car and flashed a charming smile her way. “Shall we? I know of a couple nice boutique’s downtown, unless you had somewhere in particular that you wanted to look?”

[avepravus-blog]

                                     “ You just stepped on my reading glasses.”

She couldn’t help but over think the situation, her mind was clotted in dread. It hadn’t been him, anyway. He hadn’t been the reason of the salty trails of sour tears rolling down her red little cheeks. Her whole day had felt like she was being forcefully drowned, almost as if she had been put in a water pitcher, that slowly filled itself with red, red water.                              She sat down on the pavement.

Stephanie, didn’t even bother to say she was sorry for blaring him off in such a rude manner, she simply began to pick up the pieces of glass from the floor, cutting herself in the process. There was a sour taste on her tongue, followed along with the idle taste of blood as she sucked on the cut. 

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

For a moment he stood, awkward and helpless (as he often felt). His dark eyes jumped over every move she made to gather up the glasses he’d surely crunched beneath his boots and he felt absolutely dreadful. Most men Rhett’s age would brush the situation off, but he didn’t like seeing anyone cry and he especially didn’t enjoy being the cause of said tears.

When she cut herself, Rhett knelt and, pushing his hand into his jacket pocket, drew out a band-aid along with an alcohol swab wrapped in a little foil packet.

       “Here – I keep them on me, I’m a nurse.”

A slight shrug lifted his shoulders and he swallowed, eyes jerking to the ground where fragments of her glasses were lying.

       “They aren’t prescription, are they? I’ll replace them...”

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

The rest of those ask meme drabbles (the kiss one) will be on their way within the next few days!  I really need to try and get some sleep, unfortunately.  Also, after some consideration, I am going to possibly go through a "dash clean-up" or aka unfollow spree here shortly.  There's a handful of people that I don't write with as much and therefore don't need to be following.  Doesn't mean I don't want to write with you in the future or continue the threads we currently have, but my dash is messy and it's making me a sad panda, so I'd like to fix that. Thanks loves!

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

"Hm?" ➸ Mary to Raphael; modern verse.

Soft.

It was the first thought which came to mind. Those few, sweet seconds before reason could grab hold, the touch of her lips was soft, sweetly so, and he felt as though he were submerged beneath water. In his ears, the roaring. The world drenched in blurs, nothing coming in clear but how she felt in that moment. Those few seconds where he hadn't been expecting it and his mind was ensnared by surprise, where it relied on natural instinct and he fell into it too.

His head turned, his lips pressed just gently eager against her mouth.

But it couldn't last forever. The blur subsided as he was ripped to the surface by reason. As though he'd been struck by lightening, he stiffened. His head pulled back and eyes which were drunk moments ago seemed to slowly clear of it and instead twist into fear and panic. Into shame for how his body had reacted. For how badly he wanted to toss aside reason, burry his fingers into her hair and pull her mouth back hungrily to his.

Tormented eyes watched her, his pupils darting in panic all across her face. And then... and then Raphael said two words which hurt to say, but they had to be said.

"We can't."

[dionysosthursos-blog]

Send "Hm?" for my muses reaction to yours kissing them suddenly.

[brcisedbroken-deactivated201808]

you can break my soul, take my life away, beat me, hurt me, kill me. but for the love of god don’t touch him.

[roleplayxmusings-blog]

↱                                                    G o d cannot SAVE my souʟ                                            it’s STRAIGHT to ʜᴇʟʟ for me, I k n o w.                   and when I get there, at l e a s t I’ve found a place to CALL my ʜᴏᴍᴇ                                                                                                                                              ↲

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

i wanna sit on all ur dudes' faces tbh

BE OUR GUEST! BE OUR GUEST! PUT OUR SERVICE TO THE TEST!  TIE YOUR NAPKIN ‘ROUND YOU NECK CHERIE AND WE PROVIDE THE REST!

[adirtydream-blog1]

                         A breath of short laughter against her skin, a drag of her scent back in, and he kissed her again. It was hard not to stay there all night and keep planting his lips against Aniah’s again and again until their faces ached. He was starved of the way she made him feel - of the way kissing her made him feel - and it was hard not to stuff himself full of her the instant she were there next to him. Of course, there was certain, older woman bustling excitedly about in her home. Damian finally sat back into the driver’s seat. “To mom’s.” And after she put her seat belt on, they were off.

                          - - - - -

"Hey, ma. Our guest of honor is here!” said Damian as he came through the front door. He took Aniah’s jacket from her to hang alongside his on the rack, then went about shedding his shoes.

"Ohhh! Bring her here, bring her here! I need her opinion on these muffins!" Damian sighed and smiled. “

Yeah, one sec.” He turned to Aniah, brushed her dark hair behind her ear, and took the opportunity to push another thick kiss on her mouth. “Sorry,” he whispered, “gonna be a long night, and if she sees me kissing you, she’ll never let it go.”

"I HEARD THAT."

"Well, never mind, I guess." Damian laughed. "Off we go." His fingers slipped around hers so that he could lead her down the hall, passed the family room, and into the kitchen his mother was  standing in.

"ANIAH!" said Mrs. Darcy. She shed the oven mitts faster than she could blink before pulling the dark-haired beauty into her arms. "I’m so glad you could join us." A lie. Mrs. Darcy wasn’t simply glad; she was over-the-moon. She squeezed a little tighter - with all the warmth and welcome a mother could give - then released her. "Now! Come look at these and tell me what you think? Another few minutes?" The truth was that Mrs. Darcy had been baking longer than Aniah had been alive, and she knew exactly how much time the muffins needed, but Damian - looking at them from across the island with a dreamy glint in his eyes - knew she’d burn the damn things if Aniah suggested it. And she’d call them heavenly too.

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

A roll of her eyes was playfully given as Damian called her the guest of honor, but the smile spread across her mouth was too wide for her to lose. As he shed his shoes she slipped out of her heels, leaving them there, just as Mrs. Darcy called out from somewhere down the hall. Aniah’s smile grew even warmer. She’d only met Mrs. Darcy once, in the hospital the morning she’d somehow trapped Aniah – who was determined not to date whatsoever – and Damian, who’d appeared much the same way, into going on a breakfast date at IHOP. She was so warm and charismatic that Aniah’s defenses were absolutely obliterated when she was near. Even now, Aniah could feel herself relaxing into the happiness of the moment rather than feeling tense or panicked that she was falling.

Then, Damian’s skin was on hers as he brushed a wayward strand of her dark hair and her green eyes were warm and soft on his handsome face. She nearly sighed into him, into the kiss, moving her lips against his, fingers reaching up to lay softly against his broad chest. For a moment she slipped so far into it that she forgot where they were and would have gladly deepened it, would have gladly stepped closer, put her arms over his shoulders and pulled him in, but he thankfully had the sense to break away and she blinked, registering what he said, and then a wide grin once again cracked across her mouth as Mrs. Darcy’s voice came from down the hall.

Her hand in his, Aniah walked through the home, looking curiously about and thinking how different it was than her family home in California. That, she knew, had to do with the fact that she had a bitch for an adoptive mother rather than the warmth and love that made up Mrs. Darcy.

She laughed into the embrace and her lonely heart ached with need, not only desiring what compassion and care Damian gave to her, but also that which his mother gave. “Mrs. Darcy,” she said warmly, smiling, “I’m so glad I could make it, and that I was invited. Your home is beautiful.” It was more than that though. It was a home. She walked over to where the muffins were cooling and made a small noise of appreciation. “Wow, those smell amazing.” She frowned, looking at them, and then to Mrs. Darcy. “I am actually a terrible baker,” she confessed, embarrassed to admit it. “I’d hate to give you the wrong answer and ruin your hard work.”

[adirtydream-blog1]

                       Draven stared at the sticky white upon the desk as Jack went off to clean. A small, uncharacteristic grin slipped up into his cheek. Not that he cared whether or not the loose bartender enjoyed or regretted it; Draven got what he wanted out of it. With a sigh - god, it felt good - Draven wandered back toward where his clothes lay waiting. He scooped them up, but didn’t pull them on until he was back in that room again where the faint scent of their dirty deed lingered. One languid limb at a time, he put it all on. He wanted to lay down in his feather bed for twelve hours, and threaten death on anyone who dared wake him.

But he had a goodbye to give. Jack emerged from the washroom, a grin on his face. Draven returned the kiss - as it cost him nothing - and continued to push the buttons into their appointed slots. Darling, Jack called him. Draven couldn’t remember the last time such an endearing term was given to him. If Jack hadn’t already showed he was an unpredictable man, it might’ve been surprising.

"I did," he said as low. "Thank you." Dressed, Draven reached a long hand into his pocket where he pulled out a black leather wallet with "COACH" printed across the front. He pulled out a few, crisp, new hundred-dollar bills. "Maybe I’ll visit again." If he ever did return, it would be the first time.

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

Two dark brows lifted at the sight of the money given to him. “Not to offend you,” he said, smile seeming carved into his face for how it never fell, “but keep your money. Consider it on the house.” If Jack were a man who depended on his business, he might have taken it to make up for however much time he’d lose on keeping the bar closed. Yet, Jack didn’t pay close attention to the books in the slightest. He didn’t need to. His bank account was stocked to the brim with his father’s money and, even if he loathed his father with every fiber of his being, he had no shame in happily taking his money and spending it however he pleased. Somehow, losing a few hundred bucks for closing down his business early in order to get fucked good in the ass seemed like the perfect way to really say ‘fuck you’ to his father.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture,” he said as he turned about to gather up a few tissues and clean the desk of his mess, still nude, still without shame, “but I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.” The last of the sticky white semen was cleaned away and he tossed the tissues into a wastebasket, turning to regard Draven with a curious eye. “And do come back, you haven’t seen all I can do. In fact…” Jack turned and grabbed for a business card which had his name, bar, the bar’s address, and his personal cellphone number. “If you’re ever bored and looking for a good fuck, give me a call.”

[adirtydream-blog1]

                         “Muggle,” he thought aloud, nodding. He didn’t know much about them, but had no reason to dislike them. Don watched Rhea and the lines that shift in her face. She shrugged, but he couldn’t help but feel there were something behind her easy dismissal.

"The process," he said, low and careful still. "What do you mean, the process?” Maybe he was prying. Maybe he shouldn’t ruin such a perfect Christmas evening by digging into things that weren’t jovial and suited for the happy holiday, but it couldn’t be helped. Don wanted to know everything there was. Every thought, every feeling, every movement was to be discovered like a new land, and he were the hungry explorer.

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

For a moment after his question passed, Rhea’s dark eyes regarded him. She watched his face, watched how he looked at her, and then, at last, her chin dipped and her eyes fell to her hands. They’d folded out in front of her, and the light caught the stone of the ring she wore. “Becoming a werewolf… the change is hard enough, but the way people look at you afterwards…” A frown dipped on her brow. “I was lucky enough my family didn’t cast me out but… my mother cries every time she sees me. My uncle, he was there the night it happened, and he blames himself. Every time he looks at me I see how guilty he is.” She drew a small breath.

“Then there’s the change itself. For one week out of the month I am sick, increasingly so… to where I can hardly think to get out of bed. When I change… it’s blackness. It’s nothing. It’s like I’m sleeping… until I wake up and there’s blood and flesh in my mouth and I have to figure out whether it’s animal or if the worst has happened. In the beginning it was hard, because I tried just locking myself away so I wouldn’t harm anyone – but that’s just the problem. Half the scars on my body are self-inflicted. It’s like… I go mad. If the wolf can’t run free, can’t hunt, it goes mad.”

She swallowed and her eyes flashed up toward his face. “Don…” Her brows dipped inward and the emotions swirled, heavy and thick in her throat. She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. “When I’m the werewolf, I’m not me. Under any circumstance, you can’t be near me when I change. I wouldn’t…” her mouth was open, but no sound came out as her eyes watered, she took a small breath, “I can’t think of hurting you.” A small beat of time passed and her brows pulled tighter inward. “But I’ve tried… I’ve tried to reason with myself that I can’t… that I shouldn’t be with you, and I can’t… I can’t fight it anymore. You… you make me happy. For the first time in a long time, you’re making me feel… normal. I…” she paused, the words momentarily caught in her throat, a wide smile breaking over her mouth as she reached her hands across the table toward him. “I love you.”

[myfamiliartasteofpoison-deactiv]

She was staying? After everything he’d just done? The relief washed over him like the first rainfall after a long drought. He didn’t know how to react, what to do, how to look at her. When his eyes did finally fall to her again, Maen’s expression was such a mix: it was almost unreadable. As though he was lost in a storm, drowning. “Thanks, Alice.” He said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.” And he was, truly. For bringing her so close to a mistake, for nearly making a mistake with her. One that could have hurt her.

"Sure, a stupid movie… that sounds good." Maen smiled, a warm, grateful smile. "I’ll grab you a towel, and some pyjamas."

[beglitteredpirate-blog]

“Don’t be.” She said, and smiled for him. A wide smile that flashed her slightly imperfect teeth shined just for him before she nodded, turning to wander toward the washroom. Light flooded the walls as she flicked it on and stepped into the room, having no shame and comfortable in her own skin, she left the door open as she tugged her clothes from her body and twisted the knobs to turn the shower on.

Her hand was held beneath the water sputtering from the showerhead, waiting for it to hit just the right temperature before she slipped in, closing the shower curtain and scrubbing her skin clean of the day’s events. No one wanted to smell like a strip club, not even Alice. Right now she needed to be fresh and renewed, so that when she drew close to Maen, she didn’t feel as if she was polluting him and his space with what clung to her from work.