I've been thinking about something since I published my last fic a week ago, and I'm trying to work out the best way to explain it.
When I write I spend a lot of time with my story/characters, at minimum it's been a month for a my shorter one-shots, and for some of my WIP chapters it's up to two years of thinking/writing/editing and watching it evolve from the kernel of an idea that I first came up with. For my my most recent fic it was almost two months exactly from the point where I decided to finally start working on it (again, after a couple of years of having the idea in my my head). In particular the last couple of weeks before publishing I think about it constantly, and pretty much every bit of free time I can find is spent editing; it utterly ingrains itself in my brain to the point that I can pretty much edit it just while I'm thinking about it.
And then finally I post it and it's just...over.
It's out in the world and even though I have the ghost of it moving through my mind and body and I still have the reflex to reach for it, there's no need to anymore. I just have to sit and hope that there will be people out there who will want to reach for it instead, to take my place while I hope that it might leave a mark on someone's mind.
And yes, I realize that I could just re-read it, but I'm not someone who generally enjoys doing that with my own writing, I tend to just be hypercritical and pick it all apart and end up in a spiral wondering "why did I think this was worth sharing", and that's it's own struggle.
Likes are nice, but they don't communicate much to an author, and because this is Tumblr and it has no algorithm it does nothing to actually share it around. Is it a bookmark? Was it a reflexive like because they simply recognized a character? Is someone actually going to come back to read it a week, a month, a year later? Will they tell me when they do? It kind of creates this open-ended feeling of not knowing whether your work actually made an impact or not, and really just ends up creating more of a sense of uncertainty than anything.
But when someone reblogs a fic or a chapter, or leaves a comment, especially if they mention a particular part or line that they liked, it not only brings that joy that someone liked what I wrote, it also feels like it gives me a chance to reach for it again myself. To revisit the characters and their stories that I spent so much time with, and lets me feel a little bit of the love again that led me to write it all in the first place.
So please, if you're a reader, please understand that writers are not just looking for attention (I mean we kind of are, lets be real - we wouldn't be sharing if we weren't, otherwise it would just stay in our drafts), but more than that we're looking for someone to share out stories with, to know that there's someone out there carrying it and letting it continue to move through the world after we've given so much of our hearts and souls in the creation of it. Support the people who make the things that you love, you have no idea how much it's appreciated to be given a reason to come back to a stories that we've worked so hard on. đ
possessive men having angry jealous missionary sexâŠ..,,,, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at themâŠ.. looking back at them all lovestruck and them getting even more possessive because they want to be the only one to see you that way..,,,,âŠ. aaaaughhshdhff
Hey! Just a reminder! AO3 does NOT have an app. This garbage was made by theives who steal fan artistâs work and sell it back to you.
âOh, but itâs free!â There are ads. They are making money off of this. They are stealing from the creators you love and you are hurting those same creators if you use this app or any similar app.
I've been thinking about something since I published my last fic a week ago, and I'm trying to work out the best way to explain it.
When I write I spend a lot of time with my story/characters, at minimum it's been a month for a my shorter one-shots, and for some of my WIP chapters it's up to two years of thinking/writing/editing and watching it evolve from the kernel of an idea that I first came up with. For my my most recent fic it was almost two months exactly from the point where I decided to finally start working on it (again, after a couple of years of having the idea in my my head). In particular the last couple of weeks before publishing I think about it constantly, and pretty much every bit of free time I can find is spent editing; it utterly ingrains itself in my brain to the point that I can pretty much edit it just while I'm thinking about it.
And then finally I post it and it's just...over.
It's out in the world and even though I have the ghost of it moving through my mind and body and I still have the reflex to reach for it, there's no need to anymore. I just have to sit and hope that there will be people out there who will want to reach for it instead, to take my place while I hope that it might leave a mark on someone's mind.
And yes, I realize that I could just re-read it, but I'm not someone who generally enjoys doing that with my own writing, I tend to just be hypercritical and pick it all apart and end up in a spiral wondering "why did I think this was worth sharing", and that's it's own struggle.
Likes are nice, but they don't communicate much to an author, and because this is Tumblr and it has no algorithm it does nothing to actually share it around. Is it a bookmark? Was it a reflexive like because they simply recognized a character? Is someone actually going to come back to read it a week, a month, a year later? Will they tell me when they do? It kind of creates this open-ended feeling of not knowing whether your work actually made an impact or not, and really just ends up creating more of a sense of uncertainty than anything.
But when someone reblogs a fic or a chapter, or leaves a comment, especially if they mention a particular part or line that they liked, it not only brings that joy that someone liked what I wrote, it also feels like it gives me a chance to reach for it again myself. To revisit the characters and their stories that I spent so much time with, and lets me feel a little bit of the love again that led me to write it all in the first place.
So please, if you're a reader, please understand that writers are not just looking for attention (I mean we kind of are, lets be real - we wouldn't be sharing if we weren't, otherwise it would just stay in our drafts), but more than that we're looking for someone to share out stories with, to know that there's someone out there carrying it and letting it continue to move through the world after we've given so much of our hearts and souls in the creation of it. Support the people who make the things that you love, you have no idea how much it's appreciated to be given a reason to come back to a stories that we've worked so hard on. đ
Health classes really ought to teach people what the beginning stages of addiction are like because a lot of people donât realize theyâre addicted to something until theyâre years deep into it.
If you go without it you feel unwell in a way that you never usually feel unwell. Sweating, tired, sleepy, headaches, irritable, depressed, etc. For example when I was in opium withdrawal I got incredibly depressed in a way that Iâve never been before or since. When you quit caffeine you might get super bad headaches even if you never usually get any headaches.
Thoughts of it regularly bother you and the thoughts go away once youâve taken it but only temporarily. Unlike with a food craving which usually stays away once youâve satisfied it or distracted yourself from it.
You find yourself rationalizing with yourself why you should break your own rules about how much you can take and how often. For example you might only let yourself drink alcohol every four days but start thinking that three days is actually close enough to four days, right? Especially if this happens regularly.
Youâre using it so often that you feel the need to lie about how much you use because other people might think itâs concerning
If the substance or activity is nearby itâs genuinely difficult to not consume it or participate in it in a way thatâs really frustrating.
You feel bad when youâre not on it and your brain tells you âif you just take the thing you wouldnât feel this wayâ
You can only feel âwholeâ or ânormalâ when youâre on a substance even though itâs a recreational drug
And if you read this and think you might be addicted to something, donât panic and donât feel ashamed. Realizing youâre addicted to something isnât a failure. Itâs more information about your health that you can use to manage your condition, whether you want to get rid of your addiction or not.
Sometimes when I go hundreds pages deep into peopleâs Tumblr archives, I find really funny posts and I weigh the pros and cons of liking/reblogging them.
Pros: Iâll have access to them later because theyâre fucking hilarious
Cons: They might think Iâm creepy. Despite the fact that itâs public and on the Internet, it is not socially acceptable to let anyone know the extent that you creeped their archives.
I hereby extend blanket permission for anyone to creep on my archive, and to like and reblog posts from it if they want to. Itâs really quite flattering.
Yeah, this isnât a Tumblr thing. Everyone here loves it when they wake up to 97 notifications and theyâre all likes and reblogs from the same person of shit you posted five years ago.
User that exhibits the actively curious, reblog-spamming, tag-digging behavior is an endangered species that must be preserved at all costs. No seriously I view this kinda stuff as a big, massive, yuuuuuge compliment. Please donât let this culture die.
Iâve had people reblog stuff so old even Iâve forgotten i made it. Itâs always amusing to me. Itâs like âhow deep into the basement did you go to find this?!â Keep digging you funky little weirdos.
this is such a beautiful thing. like, if i didnât want it to be shared i wouldnât have posted it on tumblr dot com? and if i didnât want it revisited i would have deleted it?
[ Masterlist - Part One ] -> [ Masterlist - Part Two ]
Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther
Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader
Word count: 9.7K
Chapters: 2/7
Rating: Explicit
Summary: The actions of others leads to chaos at the compound, and after Klaue returns to deal with the aftermath you're surprised to learn that his reasons for being upset aren't what you think, and you finally have to admit some things that you've been denying.
Warnings: Explicit!, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Use of Pet Names, Injury, Workplace Injury, Mention of Blood, Reference to Guns, Insecurity (Reader is an Idiot), Light Angst, Smut, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Reference to Masturbation (M), Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Oral Sex (M receiving), Brief Rough Oral, Cock Worship, Messy Blowjob, Mouth Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Hair Holding/Pulling, Guided Masturbation (F), Mild Size Kink, Soft Dom, Teasing, Praise Kink, Porn With Plot, More Accidental Feelings Oh No
AN: Welcome back, friends! It's been quite a while since I updated this one, but I'm excited to finally bring you so more of these two! it wasn't so much that this one got away from me, but what I wanted (and needed) to do with it was getting more involved, and ultimately I'm happy with how this ended up turning out. Especially since I also accidentally wrote a holiday "interlude" story that comes after this but before what was supposed to be the next chapter (which is now chapter four), which was simultaneously challenging and helpful in finding the right balance in this part as things progress.
As always, thank you for reading and to everyone who has commented or reblogged so far, and I am unendingly grateful to those who have provided encouragement and support through this writing of this story. I hope that you enjoy! đ
AO3 Link
Title is from "Hands Like Roots" by The Builders and the Butchers
And if thee should die tonight
Well it won't be without a sound
When your hands move like roots
Making their way through the ground
The afternoon is crisp but bright when you step outside, the sun actively working to melt much of the late autumn snow that had fallen overnight.Â
Youâd only gone out to take a quick inventory of the oxygen and argon stock, but when you make your way past the loading dock to get to the storage cages you see something that makes you pause and do a double take.
On the compoundâs property there are three industrial propane tanks that power and heat the facility, and today they were scheduled to be refilled before the snow properly settles in the mountains making the roads difficult to access during winter.
The refilling had already been completed and the tankers should have been long on their way, so youâre surprised when you see what appears to be a fuel transfer being done between the two bobtail trucks, which is illegal except in special circumstances, and making it more concerning they're also uncomfortably close to the loading dock.Â
On top of that, as far as youâre aware this compound isnât licensed to allow truck to truck transfers at all - something that would normally only be done at the refilling plant - making it doubly illegal
And while this might not be a facility where âlegalityâ is necessarily a top concern, that doesnât change the fact that itâs still dangerous and incredibly stupid.Â
âWhat are you doing?â You blurt out, standing stock-still as you stare at Anatoly, the man who seems to be directing whatâs happening. You werenât necessarily on friendly terms with the Sokovian man, but you had chatted occasionally and heâd seemed to have more sense than this.
âWe didnât want to do it right next to the big tanks.â He gestures across the yard.
You continue to stare, perplexed.Â
âOk, well, you shouldnât be doing it here at all, but now youâre right next to the building, and the five pound tanks -âÂ
âIt was the only place flat enough for both trucks.â
â- are a lot closer than those big ones.âÂ
âDonât worry, itâs fine.â He brushes you off, starting to get visibly frustrated that you wonât let it go.
Changing tacks you turn to one of the drivers whoâs in conversation with Milo, a welder you recognize from another shift.
âHey, you know youâre not supposed to be doing this here, right?â
âHe doesnât know how, so Iâm doing it for him,â Anatoly replies before the driver can answer himself. âYouâre making a big deal from nothing.â
âWhy are you doing it at all? Unless thereâs an emergency you canât just -â
âIâve done it before.â
âThatâs not the point.â
âListen, they both would've had to go back to their plant, but now one can go straight to the next job.â
âSo let me get this straight: Doing a favour for someone whose job doesnât have anything to do with you is a good enough reason to create a potentially dangerous situation here? I donât think that Klaue will love hearing that.â
âYouâre not going to tell him.â His annoyed demeanor quickly shifts, his expression going icy.
âNo? Why wouldnât I? Youâre doing something incredibly stupid and I think that he should-â
âSo youâre going to snitch on me?â He sneers.
âAbout this? Yeah, I guess I am. And if youâre concerned about him finding out then you must have at least enough common sense to-â
âI donât need common sense to know that you- â
âJesus Christ, would you let me finish a fucking sentence!â
Your voice surprises you and to Anatolyâs credit he actually shuts up, scowling like a petulant teenager whoâs realizing that theyâre not going to be able to intimidate their way out of trouble.Â
The other workers who had been milling around and watching half-interestedly now straighten up and turn towards the trucks.
âYou.â Gesturing at both drivers, pleased that they at least appear to be somewhat chastised.Â
âYou are supposed to be in control at all times. These trucks are your responsibility from start to finish and youâre letting him do something thatâs illegal just to save a bit of time?â
âHe offered!â The first one exclaims.
âWhich he shouldnât have, but you should have said no and moved on.â
You turn back to Anatoly whose mouth is downturned in an almost comical grimace.Â
âAnd you may think this is no big deal but I very much doubt that Klaue would appreciate you being so flippant about potentially damaging his operation.â
He looks like he wants to say something else but bites his tongue, his stare still condescending even though he knows youâre right and has no argument left.Â
At this point, and while you wouldnât be surprised to learn it, youâre not yet aware that thereâs a crack in the hose near to the end connected to the receiving truck. Before youâd even gone outside propane vapour had been steadily leaking out, the only indication that there was a problem the occasional whiff of mercaptan - faint and not out of the ordinary from a typical delivery.
Normally this wouldnât be an issue and the vapours would simply disperse since youâre outdoors, but itâs unusually calm today with next to no breeze to move the air, allowing the heavier than air propane molecules to instead pool between the trucks like an invisible low-lying fog.
As it is, youâre relieved when everything is finally disconnected and sealed up, and having abandoned your inventory you turn to make your way back inside to try to get this documented, even if others think that you really are overreacting and Anatoly doesnât face the consequences you think he should.
âYou know, maybe next time you could- â
Youâre cut off again, but instead of a condescending comment this time it's by the sudden percussion of an explosion.Â
When the full truckâs engine started up an unknown faulty battery sparked and ignited the vapours that had been collecting, the flashback loud enough that your ears donât register the sound until youâre already on the ground.Â
Fortunately you manage not to hit your head but your shoulder feels like youâre lucky it didnât dislocate when you landed. Slowly pushing yourself up onto your elbow you look around, blinking until your vision slowly comes back into focus and you realize with a sinking feeling that the truck itself is now burning, flames appearing to emerge from one of the valves at the rear.
âGoddamnit,â you curse, momentarily frozen in place as you watch the flames growing quickly in front of your eyes.Â
You know that as the temperature rises the pressure inside the tanker does as well, and it needs to be stopped before the valve can no longer vent faster than the pressure is building, and you have no way of knowing whether any of the internal mechanisms were damaged in the explosion, so you may have even less time than normal.
Finally you manage to convince your muscles to move. Sucking in a breath you grit your teeth and force yourself to standing, moving as quickly as you can to reach the cabinet that houses the fire extinguishers, and then Milo is suddenly there next to you.
âIâll take this one,â he offers and you quickly nod your thanks. Maneuvering over to the truck you unspool your hose and get as close as you can until the heat of the flames forces you back.
Stumbling briefly from the recoil when you pull the nozzleâs lever back you grimace at the sudden jolt of pain in your shoulder but manage to recover quickly, widening your stance to better brace yourself and focus the thick white cloud on the brightest part of the fire.Â
Thankfully the flames seem to be quickly smothered and you move closer as the heat begins to die down. Occasionally you or Milo alternate your focus on the truckâs own fuel tank, working to extinguish the burning propane while also trying to prevent the diesel from possibly igniting as well.Â
You can see Tom in your peripheral now, dimly aware of him barking directions, relieved that someone else was there to take charge, and even when the fire appears to be doused you keep your hoses pointed at the truck until both extinguishers have been completely emptied.
Finally, after what feels like hours but was probably less than fifteen minutes since you had walked outside you take a deep, shaky breath and simply sit down right where you stand in the mess of slush and extinguisher residue.
You can almost feel the adrenaline physically draining out of your system, your jaw involuntarily clenching as you begin to shiver. Youâre not sure whoâs hand squeezes your shoulder, your mind feels fuzzy as mild shock sets in, and it takes conscious effort to release your grip from the hose thatâs still sitting across your lap and slowly stand back up.
You're buzzing wildly between a range of emotions: anger, frustration, relief, a blanket of exhaustion settling over all of it as you waver on unsteady legs, tamping down the thoughts of how much more badly this could have gone.
Two days after the incident with the trucks and the ringing in your ears has nearly stopped, and aside from stiff muscles and a painterly bruise blooming across your shoulder you'd come out of it all more or less unscathed.
Once the chaos had wound down and things could be assessed it was fortunate that damage was minimal and the overall injuries turned out to be minor, mostly cuts and bruises from being knocked over or from the burst of gravel from the initial explosion. Even the alarming amount of blood you'd seen running down Anatolyâs face ended up just being a superficial gash.
There are already at least two versions of what happened circulating through the facility, one casting your actions more favourably and one much less so (no question where that one started), though youâre not particularly concerned which version others decide to believe. Enough people witnessed what actually happened, and regardless you know that what you did was the right thing, and youâre confident that Klaue will see that.
You havenât had a chance to talk to him yet but he's supposed to be on his way back, abandoning the South African coast early to assess the damage and meet with the kind of investigators that a facility that doesnât exist in the strictest sense will allow.
Although you have his return to look forward to, you canât help still feeling on edge as the dregs of adrenaline continue to circulate in your blood, and you regularly have to force yourself to take a deep inhale when you realize that your breathing has gone shallow again.
Fortunately youâve had a simple job the last couple of days, spending your shift taking apart scrap metal to be sent to a foundry to be melted down. Oxy acetylene cutting can be physically taxing and it's hot as hell but it doesnât require finesse, and right now youâre happy to simply let muscle memory guide you, focusing only on regulating the flow of gas and keeping the glide of the flameâs sharp tip steady as you work.Â
Youâre waiting for the disassembled pieces you'd just cut to cool before moving them so that you can start on the next section when thereâs a sudden burst of activity at the entrance to the shop, and when you turn towards the disturbance you see that Klaue has just walked in.
His eyes have already found you but the swell of excitement at seeing him unexpectedly is quickly replaced by confusion when you register his dark expression.
âYou.â He points, singling you out from the crowd. âCome with me.â
Your mouth drops open in surprise at the anger in his tone, and when you donât immediately move to follow he raises his eyebrows, impatience clear in the tight set of his jaw.
âNow.â He grits through clenched teeth.
âOhh, someoneâs in trouble.âÂ
You whip around to find the source of the taunt, the anger and frustration that you havenât fully processed surging out in a red-hot wave, and the words are out before you can think.
âShut the fuck up!âÂ
The idiot is looking at you like heâs made some world-class joke and you're ready to lay into him, but suddenly his focus moves behind you and the smirk drops away as the blood drains from his face.
Slowly turning to follow his eyes you see Klaue standing as still as a steel lathe with his arm extended, but it takes several seconds for you to register that the leather holster on his leg is empty and his gun now aimed at the center of the man's chest.
âShit.â You gasp.Â
All of the oxygen seems to have been sucked out of the room and you're rooted to the spot, your hearing gone muffled and tinny. The jokerâs eyes are flashbulb wide, standing with his arms jutting into the air as though that might have any impact on what happens next.
Every inch of Klaue appears calm, you might almost say he was relaxed if it weren't for the weapon in his hand. But the unmistakable fury in his eyes colours them nearly black, an obsidian blade glinting in the shadows simply waiting for an excuse to strike, and though he speaks quietly you know that everyone watching this happen can hear every word clear as day.Â
âIf you ever speak to her about anything other than this job again...âÂ
He doesn't finish the sentence, he doesn't have to, the sound of the safety lever being flicked off is deafening. The only movement in the room is the flex of tendons in Klaue's hand as his thumb deftly finds the switch.
Youâre not sure whether the man is actually breathing, and even though your own heart is pounding out of your chest you find that youâre not exactly upset about the look of abject fear in his eyes.
âNo! I mean I wonât! I didnât mean anything, Iâm sorry I-â he stammers, panicked eyes flicking back and forth between the weapon and Klaueâs face, forcing his hands almost comically high until his biceps are covering his ears.Â
No one else speaks.
After several more excruciating seconds you finally hear the click of the safety re-engaging and you let out the breath youâd been holding as he slowly replaces the gun in its holster.
Then he turns back to you and repeats:
âNow.â
You have to work to keep up with Klaueâs brisk pace as you make your way through the warren of hallways, eventually ending up in an area youâd only passed by before. You follow him into a room filled with various pieces of vaguely familiar military equipment, a heavy desk and a bank of monitors against one wall, and in your still flustered state itâs only when he closes the door behind you that you realize that heâs taken you to his office.
He walks over and leans on the desk, weight braced on his knuckles as his shoulders rise and fall, each breath slow and deep.
He doesnât speak, doesnât look at you - in fact he hasnât looked at you since heâd turned away expecting you would follow.
âKlaue?â
You think that you note a brief hitch in his breathing, but beyond that he doesnât respond.Â
âListen, itâs been a long couple of days and Iâd really appreciate it if youâd tell me whatâs going on.â
âWhat you did was dangerous.â He replies quietly, finally seeming to find his words.
You sigh. Youâre not entirely surprised that thatâs what this is about but youâre still irritated and your lingering anger is back at the surface, leaving you fighting to keep your response measured. Youâre not the one whoâd done anything wrong. You thought heâd understand that.
âI did what needed to be done, that whole situation was getting worse by the second.â
âYou put yourself in harm's way. There was no need to get that close when there had already been an explosion.â
âSo was I just supposed to stand around with my mouth hanging open like almost everyone else? Or walk away and pretend that nothing was happening?â
âYou didnât need to get yourself involved, period. Those men would have dealt with the consequences of their actions.â
You throw your hands up in resignation.
âThis is perfect, I was one of the few people actually trying to help, and yet Iâm the one youâre taking it out on? That seems par for the course in all of this.â
Finally Klaue turns around to face you.
âIâm not- â
"What about Milo? Or more importantly the asshole that actually caused the whole fucking mess??" You're close to yelling now, unable to help it as your anger and disappointment finally boil over.
"Do you really think he hasn't already been dealt with?â He replies sharply. âHeâs gone, and won't be stepping foot in another shop anywhere, ever again. I'll be making sure of it.â
There's something flat in his eyes that cloaks the usual sharp blue.
âOk, wellâŠgood.â Youâre happy to hear it, though youâre still only somewhat placated. âBut that doesnât change the fact that the damage could have been so much worse if that truck had kept burning. I had to do something."
"That shouldnât be your concern. I would have handled it."
âMore people would have gotten injured.â
âIâm aware.â
âOr killed!"
"You could have gotten- "
He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, fists balled tight at his sides.Â
He hasnât raised his voice until now, but it's his tone and the way his words waver that gives you pause. As you watch Klaue collect himself you feel something trying to work its way into your chest - something thatâs whispering to you what that clouded look in his eyes might have been.Â
Fear.
Heâs visibly tense, lips pressed in a thin line as he takes a step toward you, broad shoulders curling inwards in an almost protective posture.
âI know you didnât have anything to do with the accident, and that you wanted to help. But what you did still wasn't-â
He stops again and it surprises you, normally so certain of his words and not exactly afraid to speak his mind, you instead watch the muscles of his jaw working as his eyes burn into yours.
âThis is a risky job.â You finally break the silence, trying to reason with him, taking your own tentative step closer to him. âEven when Iâm not working for an arms dealer, by the way. Anywhere in this trade mistakes like that can happen.â
Thereâs a soft âcarefulâ in the quick tilt of his head, and even now you feel a spark of relief at the flash of that familiar part of him.
âAnd you got hurt here.âÂ
You only realize that your hand has been rubbing your bruised shoulder when you notice his eyes have shifted to watch your fingers.
âSo did other people! Why am I being singled out? What is the concern about me?âÂ
A part of him seems to drift from you again, and when he doesnât respond a vice of cold steel begins to tighten around your chest. Has he discerned the real question that was hidden in your words? Is he angry? Disappointed? Indifferent?
Damnit, you curse yourself.Â
You wished you hadnât said it but the recent stress has eroded your filters and you couldnât help but push. Even though youâre not going to get the answer you can barely admit that you want.
âIf you had really been hurt. If you had gotten killed..âÂ
When his eyes focus on you again thereâs a coldness in them that youâve only seen hints of before, but now itâs right there at the surface, clear and sharp and seething.
âThat man wouldnât be gone, he would be dead.âÂ
Oh.
Klaueâs words are laced with a calm certainty that sets your heart racing, your skin prickling hot under the weight of his gaze as you stand there shocked silent by his admission, unsure how to respond.
Just as suddenly as it appeared the cold begins to melt away, his eyes sweeping over you as if confirming that youâre still there, still whole and standing in front of him.
âDid you think I wouldnât be concerned about you?â He asks, a curious frown knitting his brows.
Youâre not sure how to respond to that either and youâre quiet for several long moments, chewing your lower lip while you consider, nervous for a different reason now.
Heâs pushing you back, and itâs what you wanted (what you needed), not letting you get away with hiding, because if youâre going to ask the question you need to answer it, too.
But he must know itâs not a simple question, and right now you canât give him a simple answer.
âI donâtâŠknow what this is.â You start, haltingly.Â
The first threads of an admission that thereâs something for this to be.Â
An admission that although a part of you has known it since the first night he slowly, achingly buried himself inside you, you can no longer pretend that he hasnât already ruined you.
âNeither do I.â He concedes, slowly closing the last steps that separate you, surprised to find yourself relaxing at his words. It's not an answer, not yet, but still an acknowledgement, that youâre both uncertain but unable to help the way that youâre drawn together. Moths lost in the dark, instinctively picking up on the invisible spark of the other.
His hand reaches up to touch the shoulder that you'd been massaging.
âLet me see.â Klaue rumbles softly as he moves to lift the edge of your shirt, and silently you help him work your arm from the sleeve before he pulls the garment the rest of the way off, leaving you in your sports bra.
âI donât know that I have to know, but I-âÂ
You start to speak but then inhale a sharp breath when his palm slides over your shoulder, soothing the bruised warmth, fingers also dance along the scar on your other arm which was fortunately not the side youâd landed on.
âAnd I donât know if I can tell you.â His frown deepens as he takes in the angry bloom of purpling skin. âBut I havenât been able to think about anyone else since youâve been here.âÂ
You hadnât assumed anything but you canât help the sting of relief, even as you fight to hold back the dam of want thatâs cracking open beneath your ribs.
But when his hand slides up over your shoulder, your neck, tilting your head so that you meet his eyes, you realize that it's a battle you've already lost.
Your fingers curl around his wrist, the other hand pressing flat against the firm warmth of his chest.Â
âI hadnât been seeing anyone for a while, before Utrech..â You start and then pause, your eyes slipping closed with a sigh as you sink into the sensation of his palm against your cheek. âBut even when I was still trying to pretend that I didnâtâŠsince then it hasnât even occurred to me to think about anyone but you.âÂ
âIs that right?â Klaueâs voice hums with a pleased timbre though his eyes flick searchingly across your face.
âYes. Thereâs no one else. Not now, not-â
Not ever.
âNo one has ever come close to making me feel the way you do, Ulysses. And maybe I donât know what this is, butâŠI know that I donât want to stop.âÂ
The last words come out in a breathless rush, forced out before you can overthink and lock them away again. Finally admitting it as much to yourself as to him.
âIâm not going to stop, darling. Not a fucking chance.âÂ
You nearly laugh with giddy relief but itâs interrupted when his hand tightens around your jaw, leaning in so that his mouth is hovering over yours as you press your body flush against him, arching into the stiffening ridge of his erection that juts into your hip.
You try to angle your mouth to find the warmth of his lips against yours, but strong hands continue to hold you just there, a breath apart. The air has shifted, a charge growing in the dwindling space between you that leaves your skin tingling from the near contact, and when you feel a faint brush of his lips against yours an audible whine slides from your throat.
âThat night, after the bar, I thought about you.â Klaue continues.
âYou did?âÂ
âYes.â He nearly groans the word. âThought about how you'd taste when you come.âÂ
The wet heat thatâs been building in your core surges at his words, at the sudden image of him flushed and sweaty, his fist moving in rough strokes over his swollen cock and the thought of you in his head.
One of your hands begins to slide between your bodies, needy fingers plucking at his belt, reaching beneath the waistband and tugging.
âThought about taking you into the back, finding a quiet corner, having you on your knees in front- in front of me.â His voice hitches and he shudders when you find the now stiff curve of his cock beneath the fabric.
âAnd then..when you were there, kneeling, I was sure I was dreaming. But you were so much better than my dreams. Such a tease, werenât you?â He hums, and you can hear the grin even as his voice drops to a rasp of granite and silk.Â
âThinking you could get away with that.â
Klaueâs hips rock into your touch as you squeeze more firmly, sliding your hand along the shape of him, rewarded with a harsh sigh as he pulls back and fixes his eyes fix on yours. You thrill at the heat that you find there, helplessly reaching for the flames that lick against your skin.Â
That invite you to burn.
âI didnât think that for a second. But I already apologized, didnât I?âÂ
A flash of him holding you against the door, desperation on your lips as he finally let you fall apart.
âOh, you thought that was your apology? Getting to come on my fingers?â
âI didnât, I mean-â You stammer, the movement of your hand faltering even as his admonition sends another wave of heat through your body.
âIâm afraid not, darling. And right now..â Your eyelids flutter and it takes a moment to realize that heâs waiting to make sure he has your attention.
âY-yes?â
âMaybe I do.â
âYou doâŠwhat?â Frowning, you try to figure out his meaning through the growing haze of arousal.
âWant to take it out on you.â
Your eyes snap to his, molten sapphire when you meet them.
âAnd maybe,â Klaueâs thumb swipes across the corner of your lips. âI want to take it out on this mouth of yours.â
His eyes flick down to catch your tongue peeking out as you reflexively lick your lips.
âBecause a day hasnât gone by that I havenât thought about that sweet promise you made on your knees.âÂ
His thumb slides against the seam of your lips, smug when they part easily beneath the pressure.
He tsks, but any response you might give is cut off when he pushes past your teeth and your tongue gratefully tastes the calloused skin. But just as you move to take his thumb deeper into your mouth he pulls back, quickly replacing it with his index and middle fingers before you can lament the loss, and you canât help but moan around the thick digits.
Eagerly you begin to slide your mouth along them, slowly bobbing your head, taking them further until theyâre far enough back that your gag reflex triggers and your body stiffens, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to take slow breaths.
Eventually your eyelids flutter open again, your focus coming back to him and the pleased look in his eyes.
Once you catch your breath you increase the suction of your lips to pull his fingers a little deeper, your tongue teasing around and between his two fingers, the texture of his warm skin contrasted with the smooth edges of his ring.
The next time you pull back he takes the opportunity to add a third finger, his other hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck, gently but firmly holding your head in place as he slides them all the way into your mouth again until his thumb and pinky are cradling your jaw.
Klaueâs mouth has dropped open, his breathing gone rough as he watches your lips stretching around his fingers. Both of your hands have moved to grip his shirt, steadying yourself, your eyes beginning to water as your breath comes in quick gasps.
âShhh,â he soothes. âJust like that.â
His fingers stay where they are until your breathing slows again, nearly wincing at the deep velvet of his gaze on you, soft but inescapable.Â
You still feel the instinct to gag, but once your throat relaxes the rest of you follows, and you sigh as he withdraws a little, rubbing gentle circles against your tongue. Your inhibitions are quickly falling away as you become focused only on more, moaning as his fingers continue to move, the thumb of his hand thatâs curled around your neck caressing the sensitive skin there.
A heady thrum of desire is growing, settling deep between your thighs as you watch him through heavy-lidded eyes as he alternates between slowly pumping and then pressing deep and holding there, pleased when your breathing evens out more quickly every time.
Watching his expression cloud over with lust it occurs that youâd never really thought about how much he liked this. How watching your lips, and feeling your warm, slick mouth around his fingers as they grow shiny with your spit has him barely hanging on.
âThatâs my needy girl.âÂ
Klaueâs words are a sigh, almost a release, the tension when you had first followed him ebbing from his body, smoothing the set of his shoulders as his fingers continue to move.
You shudder again, unable to hold back the keening sounds from escaping your throat, your center already soaked and aching and you donât even have his cock in your mouth yet.
âWhatâs the matter, isnât this enough?â His words are cut with a smug glint of gold, seeming to guess what youâre thinking about.
And honestly you would let him keep doing this if he wanted, turning you into a mindless mess with just his fingers and only your eyes able to plead wordlessly for more. But he said he was going to fuck your mouth, and the narrowing of your eyes answers his question.
His unoccupied hand releases your neck and takes one of your hands, returning it to the waist of his pants where you quickly work at his belt and zipper, determined though distracted by the continued slip and drag through your lips.Â
Eventually you manage to reach beneath the fabric to grip his hard length, your other hand tugging the layers down until youâre able to free his cock. The movement of his fingers falters at your touch but then heâs grinning when your moans become more plaintive, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth as your hand hungrily strokes the intoxicating heat of him.
âNow, donât swallow.â Klaue murmurs.
You have a split second to frown before he withdraws, realization dawning when you have to quickly close your mouth to keep from drooling.
Unable to reply, you wait a beat before your eyebrows raise in a question.
âOn your knees.â His hand drops, slick fingers replacing yours where theyâre wrapped around his length.
Your breath catches with anticipation, and unable and unwilling to hide how eager you are now you keep your eyes on his as you sink down slowly until the thick circle of his fist is directly in front of you, the slit already leaking as he strokes himself.Â
The sight of it has you aching, desperate for your lips to replace the languid slide of his fingers, to take him deep into your mouth then and nose into the dark, grey-flecked hair that spreads from the base of him.
âNow, spit on my cock, darling.â
Your reverie suddenly broken you look up to see him watching you intently, eyes dark and commanding, his hand now gripping the thick base, holding himself out to you.
Waiting.
Still unable to reply, all you can do - all you want to do - is acquiesce. So you lean forward and slowly let the saliva slide from your parted lips until it drops onto the head of his cock, his palm quickly gathering and dragging your offering down his length, groaning at the slide of it beneath his fingers.
Only when you hear the low timbre of his laugh do you realize that youâre practically pouting as your eyes eagerly follow the movement of his hand.
You lean forward again, glossy lips parting in anticipation, but his other hand quickly reaches to grasp your hair and stops you.Â
Youâre agonizingly close, not caring how desperate you must look straining against his grip as your tongue flicks out, the sounds of skin on slick skin making you increasingly desperate to taste him as he holds you just out of reach of what you want.
âLook at you.â Klaue croons.âYouâre always switched on. Youâre strong and I can see how hard you work, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that.â
You flush at his praise, briefly distracted from your conquest.
âBut when I use your mouthâŠthen I get to watch you let go. I can tell that you donât like to do it for yourself, so Iâm going to do it for you. Going to empty that head of yours.â
His hips nudge toward you and this time when your lips drop open he lets you move to meet him.
He sucks a hiss through his teeth when you press a wet kiss against the thick head of his cock, chased by a relieved groan as you let your lips smear the glisten of precum that continues to leak there, fresh heat blooming between your legs at the sounds this draws from him.
You keep the muscles of your jaw relaxed and pliant as you press slowly forward. Not sucking yet, simply using the head of his cock to part your lips to slide over the already slick skin, slowly and thoroughly mapping the shape of him with your mouth.
And he's right, of course. You can feel yourself relaxing as you finally taste the musk of his heated skin, humming contentedly as your tongue swirls around the head and drags over the sensitive frenulum, the tension of the last few days finally draining away with every languorous slip of your mouth.Â
A different kind of tension quickly swelling deep in your core.
âJesus.â Klaue sighs above you as you gradually take him deeper, one hand braced on his thigh while the other wraps around him, his cock achingly hard beneath your fingers.Â
Still loosely holding your hair he's letting you work him, your own pleased moans slipping from your throat as you lick hungrily over every ridge and vein, savouring the salty tang of his velvet-slick skin warm against your tongue
Pleasure thrums through your body, growing hotter with the attention youâre giving him, but as you take him deeper again, your lips stretching wider, realization flickers in the back of your mind that you havenât even taken him halfway yet and youâre already growing overwhelmed by how full your mouth is.Â
But, god, the ragged sound he makes when you slide down until his cock nudges the back of your throat makes your cunt throb, so you pull back so that youâre holding just the tip of him between your lips and then you do it again, reveling in every inch that you can take.
Slowly you build a steady rhythm until saliva is dripping down your chin, he's continuing to let you control the pace for now, allowing you to breathe and adjust until heâs deeper than when he was on the couch.
Your hunger is growing, though, and soon you're pushing forward with more intention and when your throat spasms you swallow reflexively, your eyes watering when this draws him in further. Klaueâs moans deepen at the ripple of the muscles around his cock but youâre unable to fight it any longer and you gag, even as his drawn out âFuckâ has your hips rocking.
Squeezing your eyes shut you just barely manage to stay where you are, tears dampening your lashes until you finally have to pull back, although you keep him in your mouth, breathing hard through your nose to catch your breath.
âItâs alright,â he rasps. âDonât think youâre going to be able to take all of me right now, darling. But youâll take as much as you can, and when you can swallow every inch of my cock then youâll get to feel me come down your throat.âÂ
You canât help the muffled sound you make thatâs equal parts arousal and disappointment.
âDonât worry, Iâm still going to make a pretty mess of your mouth," he teases, his heaving chest and half-lidded eyes betraying his own growing need.
Not that he isnât doing a fair job of it already, of course, unable to properly swallow, your chin is quickly growing shiny with drool. The pressure of his other hand still cradling the back of your neck firm but soothing as he holds you in place, as the still restrained flex of his hips begins seeking the wet heat of your mouth again, and you sigh at the intoxicating weight of his cock dragging against your tongue.
As you relax your awareness drifts back down to the heat between your legs, the slick press of the seam of your pants against your sex barely relieving the ache there as you squeeze your thighs together.Â
After a few more slow thrusts he presses forward into the back of your throat again, and as he holds himself there you take a shaky breath and swallow once, and then again, taking more of him than you have so far.Â
âThere you go, God-â
You try to hollow your cheeks to pull him in further but you gag again when he bucks suddenly, his words cut off with a growled curse.
âItâs alright,â Klaue soothes, pulling back to give you a moment to recover, though it was more startling than painful. âYouâre doing so fucking well.âÂ
Looking up at him you see that his eyes are screwed shut, head bowed and breathing hard, concentration etched clearly across his face. When he finally opens his them he can only groan at the sight of your tear-damp reverence, his attention is first drawn first to where he's disappearing into your mouth as he starts to move again, but itâs not long before they catch instead on the needy cant of your hips.
âYou do love this, donât you? Have you soaked through your panties already?â
You can only let out a whimpered moan as you attempt to nod.
He hasnât let you take his cock out of your mouth yet and you can feel the drool that continues to spill from your lips beginning to collect and drip off of your chin, down onto your chest where it slicks the skin between your breasts.
Thereâs a flicker in the back of your mind, a needling thought that you should feelâŠashamed. By the mess, and your neediness, by how much you fucking adore being on your knees for this man.Â
But that flicker is quickly snuffed out as Klaue continues to use your mouth, and as you take in the look of awe in his eyes, when you feel his thumb softly stroking over the curve of your cheekbone, you realize that you donât feel below him.Â
That although you're on your knees, it feels like youâre the one being worshiped.
You want to focus on him and you try, really you do, but the heated ache in your cunt is becoming unbearable and you can't help shifting and squeezing your thighs together, made breathless by your need as much as by the fullness of him in your mouth.
He's has been watching - and clearly enjoying - this increasingly desperate movement of your hips, but finally he seems to take pity on you.
âDo you want to touch yourself, darling? Want to come while you drool all over my cock?âÂ
Even through his tease you can feel how his own words affect him in the quickening buck of his hips.
âGo on then, feel how wet your pussy is just from this.â
The words are barely past his lips and youâre already moving, but just as you manage to work your hand beneath the waistband of your pants he speaks again.
âSlow.âÂ
The word is quiet but firm, Klaue's tone softer than before yet shot through with an irresistible command and you pause, glancing back up.
His shoulders and neck are impossibly broad from this vantage, eyes bright but tinged with a smoky darkness that does away with your resistance, and you know with a thrilling certainty that as desperate as you are for relief, in this moment youâd do whatever he asked.
Keeping your eyes locked on his you begin to move again, dipping your hand down - slowly.
âThatâs it. Slip your hand into your panties now. Just- just one finger, darling.â His voice is uneven and clipped like he's having to concentrate on forming the words. âSlide it along that pretty slit of yours. Barely need to press to feel it, donât you? How wet you are.â
You can only whimper in response, the building ache between your thighs only made worse by how close you are to relief, by how you could increase the pressure just slightly and youâd be able to part yourself and find your desperate bundle of nerves.
âYou have no idea how delicious that first taste of you is. So fucking sweet.âÂ
Thereâs an edge to his words, as though he were jealous of your fingers, that they get to slide and tease between your legs and not his tongue.
Thereâs barely any friction beneath your index finger, but the soft glide combined with his grunted breaths above you has you clenching and it's near agony to keep your movements slow and controlled, fighting against every instinct in your body not to give in as your sex quivers, pleading for more.
So instead you pull your focus back to his cock and let your mouth move the way you wish your fingers could, quickly and hungrily sliding your lips along his shaft until with a sudden movement you take him into the back of your throat again and keep him there, your hand stroking the part of him you can't take.
âChrist,â he grits through his teeth, your scalp stinging from the quick jerk of his hand in your hair. âNot yet.âÂ
You can't tell if this is directed at you or himself as he swallows and releases a shuddered breath, his voice strained when he speaks again.
âSlide two fingers over your clit for me, now.âÂ
Relief ripples up your spine as you eagerly press through your drenched folds, fingers dragging against your swollen bud, unable to let out more than a choked sound as you push forward to keep his cock where it is in your throat, hot tears spilling over.
âAgain.âÂ
Your touch grows rougher, matching his words, feeling the inevitable swell of pleasure growing as you float there, caught in the riptide of his voice.
âWant to go faster, donât you?â Klaue rasps. âWant to reach down to feel how soaked your needy hole is?âÂ
You do, trembling fingers unable to help chasing the path of his words as if they were his tongue instead, sliding along your slick cleft and down to gather more of your arousal.Â
Pleasure strings tighter when your fingers slide back up and over your clit, cursing him internally as you gasp short breaths through your nose. You try to relax your throat even as every other muscle in your body draws tight, unsure how much longer you can keep yourself from falling over the edge.
You canât really tell him, only your eyes can plead, Iâm close, Iâm so close it feels so good please let me come.Â
âSo used to begging with that pretty mouth.â He taunts with a breathless growl, reading your desperation, his lips curled in a grin at your half-delirious expression.
âIt's alright, I know how good it's making you feel to use your mouth like this instead. Just like I know youâre going to make yourself come now.â
You're so close to lost that it takes a second for you to process his command, but when you do something in you snaps.
Your fingers immediately find a tight rhythm as you chase the swollen edge of pleasure, his fist gripping your hair tight to hold you firmly in place as your movements begin to grow frantic, unable to control any part of you as the blinding heat of your climax finally shocks through you.
The muscles of your throat spasm as your cunt flutters around nothing, desperate sounds caught in your chest as your hips buck and writhe against your fingers. Your other hand is entirely lost to any sense of rhythm and it drops to grasp at the fabric covering his thigh in an attempt to find purchase, and then suddenly his hand not in your hair is there, strong fingers twining tightly with yours, holding on to you as you fall apart.
âThatâs it,â Klaue pants, his voice thick with lust and awe. âChoke on my cock while you come.â
You want to curse and cry and plead as ecstasy works its way through you in eddies and purls, and it almost feels like you might be drowning but youâre powerless to want anything else but to drown in him, trembling with relief as your fingers roughly work every pulse of pleasure from your clit.
As the waves begin to soften your other senses gradually filter back in: the ache in your throat and your jaw, the sting in your knees where they press into the floor, and when your body slackens as you start to come down he allows you pull back enough to properly catch your breath.Â
Slowly youâre able to focus again, eyes damp and red rimmed as you look up at him, but you only have a brief moment to appreciate his pleased expression before his eyes go storm dark.
âGoing to come in your mouth, now.â
Fingers tighten in your hair once more and then heâs moving. His thrusts are rough now with surrendered control as his hips chase a harsh rhythm, a low groan rolling through his chest that's woven together with your name as he finally gives in and takes what you'd promised.Â
You attempt to tighten your lips around him as his rasping curses continue above you, but itâs no use, all you can do is kneel and relent to the slide of his cock filling your mouth again and again.
You want to beg him, words that fall so easily from your lips now when you sense that heâs about to let go for you, but you can only whine for it, your plaintive noises slipping messily around his cock until the pattern of his thrusts falters. And then, finally, there's only bliss when you hear his choked gasp as he stiffens, and you feel the first warm spurts of his spend coating your tongue.
With a low, open-mouthed moan he continues to fuck into the wet suck of your mouth, spilling himself across your lips and chin as well as your tongue until pearly ropes of cum are mixing with your drool, the mess of it dripping in slick stands off of your chin.
Then suddenly Klaue pulls out completely for the first time since this started and at first you can only gasp and cough, but when his hand wraps around himself your mouth instinctively drops open. Resting the head of his cock against the offering of your tongue he slowly strokes though the last pulses of his orgasm, making sure to give you every last drop, dragging through the slick mess with slow, sated thrusts until his fist gradually stills.
Eventually he pulls back though not away, panting and heavy lidded as he looks down at you where you kneel, a shining strand strung between his tip and your swollen lips that glisten with the pearly sheen heâs painted them with.
âNow you can swallow, darling.âÂ
Youâre not sure if you should laugh or sob, but fighting both you make sure to keep your eyes on his as you curl your tongue back into your mouth and swallow, before dragging your fingers across your chin to gather the mess he left there, too.
A lazy smile curves his lips as he watches your mouth sliding around your fingers, and once you've cleaned as much as you can your hand drops, both of them resting on the tops of your thighs.Â
Gently, the backs of Klaueâs fingers brush at the streaks of tears that are beginning to dry on your cheeks, then one slowly hooks under your chin to tip your head up, not letting you hide, leaving you startled by the affection that vines its way through your ribcage, burrowing into the want that even now burns hot.Â
The want that folds into a desperation to please him, to give and take everything until the only thing left is your desire.Â
You wish that you could explain it to him, that you could say something coherent, but any words you try to form seem to dissipate before they can reach your mouth, and youâre unsure that you could even articulate your thoughts as you sit in the filmy haze of your afterglow.Â
So when you do open your mouth you're nearly as caught off guard by the words that come out as he is, your voice an almost unfamiliar, grateful rasp.
âThank you.âÂ
Klaueâs satisfied grin falls away, his lips parting with a groaned sigh and then heâs reaching down, a hand curling around your bicep to pull you up to standing. You waver against the stiffness in your legs but he supports you, his palm again finding its place against your cheek.
He pauses, really taking in the state of you: your dazed expression and cock-swollen lips, standing there bruised and mussed and shirtless and pleased, his large hand brushing across your chin to catch more of the sheen there, words seeming to hover on the tip of his tongue.
The line between his brows deepens with a purse of his lips, a barely perceptible shake of his head.Â
âYouâre going to be the death of me, klein Mot.â
Then he's pulling you against him, his lips suddenly on yours and he's kissing you deeply, licking hungrily into your mouth and you swiftly grow breathless as he chases the taste of himself on your tongue. But just as youâre sinking into it, he pulls away.Â
âCome here.âÂ
He turns with you, quickly crowding you back against his desk, hands reach down to wrap around your thighs and you quickly brace against the surface as he lifts you until youâre perched on the edge of it.
Your legs fall open easily as he moves forward, his focus coming to rest on you again as his hands slide up to circle your waist.
âYou did so fucking well.â A smile tugs at his lips again as thumbs trail soft patterns against your bare skin. âAre you alright?âÂ
Warmth blooms at his concern, an unexpected contrast with what had just transpired.
âYes.â Youâre still finding your voice, still feeling like you're catching your breath, but youâre good. More than.
âYou're sure?â
Leaning forward you slide your arms around his broad waist, hitching your legs up as well, drawing him into you.
âYes, I promise.â You assure, brushing the ghost of a smile against his lips. âAndâŠI promise that I wonât lie to you if anything is too much.â
âGood.â Klaue pulls back to look at you, a pleased edge of gold glinting in the blue before a more serious expression settles into the creases around eyes. âBecause I'm going to keep pushing you.âÂ
You inhale sharply, a fresh throb of heat blooming in your still slick core as your legs tighten around his hips.
âI want you to, Ulysses,â you hum, slowly arching and rolling your center against him, feeling him still half hard where he'd tucked himself back into his pants.Â
âI know, my darling.â His words are knowing and smooth with the edges singed dark, hands roving slowly over the soft flesh of your waist as he continues matter-of-factly. âBut right now, youâre going to have some water, and then Iâm going to make you come again.â
âYeah?â You say hopefully as you continue to move against him, chasing the heat he so easily stokes in you with just a few words.
A slow nod and a rumbled confirmation.Â
âIâm going to take care of you, now, Mot. I donât need you to make any decisions today. Except for one.â
âOh?âÂ
âNot how many times youâre going to come, that's up to me. But youâre going to tell me how.â
âGod, Ulysses.â Youâre burning with arousal now, every inch of your skin prickling hot. âThat's all?â
âWill it be my fingers?âÂ
His hands brush further up your waist, thumbs teasing beneath the band of your bra to just brush against the sensitive curve of your breasts before trailing back down.
âOr my mouth?â
Leaning in his lips press against your neck, a silvered shimmer of nerves swirling out from the point where his tongue flicks out to taste your skin, your body swiftly surrendering to the heat of his promise.
âOr perhaps youâd like to straddle my thigh until youâve made a lovely mess for me.â
A needy sound rends itself from your chest as his thumbs press into the sensitive creases where your hips meet your thighs, but just as you open your mouth to reply, a loud knock sounds on the door.
âNot right now.â Klaue calls out to whoever is in the hall without pulling away from you.
âYes, now.â
âIâm not ask-â
âItâs a call youâve been waiting for. There's a problem.â
Jaw clenching, he exhales a sharp breath.
âJust a minute,â he replies.
âYou really need to-â
âJust a minute.â Klaue snaps, his head jerking towards the door and you jump, your legs tightening around him.
âAlright, alright.âÂ
The manâs voice trails off and it sounds like heâs moved down the hallway, at least for now.Â
When he looks back at you youâre biting your lip, the look in his eye telling you he must have noticed your reaction to his tone.
âThink about what I asked.âÂ
You're about to reply that you will, but something occurs to you about the suggestions heâd given you.
âWait, is.. is your cock not an option?â You give him a coy look through your lashes, intending to tease but still a little nervous that maybe it won't be.
âDonât worry, Iâm going to fuck you, darling. If youâre good.â
A thumb grazes the corner of your mouth, distracting you momentarily from what that means as you unconsciously flick your tongue out to meet it, earning you a knowing grin when you quickly pull away with a sheepish laugh.
âSo?â He says, waiting for your confirmation of his request.
âI will. IâllâŠthink about it.â You're nearly panting now as the rock of your hips grows needier, shocked at how quickly you can feel another orgasm building already, if you just had a few more minutes you could-
âThatâs all youâll be doing, though. Yeah?âÂ
Strong hands tighten around your hips, pinning their faltering movement against him and you pull back with a frown.
âAre you sayingâŠyou want me to think about how I want to come, but I canât- â
âSmart girl, you did hear what I said.â His gaze sweeps over your face, and you barely manage not to scoff.
âYes, I heard you. But I mean, I did already make myself come. I made that decision.â
Klaue tilts his head, mock curiosity knitting his brows.
âDid you?â
You open your mouth to argue but then close it again, pursing your lips together in a pout. He has a point, though: It may have been your fingers, but it was his words guiding you, and you only made yourself come when he told you that you would.
âI decide,â he repeats, and you bite back a whimper when he slowly grinds you against him again. âAnd I've decided you're going to wait.â
Thereâs another, more insistent knock at the door.
âComing.â Suddenly letting go he steps back from you, not hiding his pleasure at your pained expression as he finds and hands you your shirt which you reluctantly put back on.
âIâll walk you back to the main corridor.â He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and raises a brow, waiting for you to follow.
âFine. Iâll think about it.â You finally say, pushing yourself off of the desk, not bothering to hide the frustration in your voice.
âI know you will, darling.â His certainty overlaps with a challenge as he opens the door.Â
Be good, and you can come on my cock.Â
You shudder when his hand quickly presses against your lower back as you move past him, even the brief pressure burns hot through the fabric of your shirt, and then the door clicks shut behind you.
So, you have to wait. Again. And though youâre getting good at it now, and even knowing that it wonât be long, youâre not sure how youâre going to make it, your nerves already on fire as you part and watch him walk away.
AN: As always thank you so much for reading! đ„° The next chapter will not be nearly as long a wait since about 75% of it was already written before I decided to split this on up! Will it be soon soon? No, but it won't be quite as long as this break as this was! Though to be fair I did write two other fics (and a drabble), flew to London, and dealt with a personal loss, and then the recovery from of all the that plus y'know, life in general. But we're finally here, and I'm glad that I made it and can finally share this with you all!
Full disclosure I am not someone who works with propane, and while much of the information is based what I've been able to find online, the accident itself is based on the events of a real explosion at a propane plant that happened in Canada several years ago. So things are likely not necessarily going to be 100% correct, but there are real variables here that would explain something like this happening.
I also want to mention that there's a line in that that was actually the first (filthy) line of not just this chapter, but also of this entire part two. I was only around halfway through part one and was just realizing there would even be a part two (the line did end up changing a bit as the story evolved, but it's still in here. đ). Also I wrote it, closed the doc, then opened Instagram and immediately saw that Andy was coming to to Toronto. And instantly panicked. So there's that. đ
This chapter was amazing!! Claire, I'm so drawn into their story and their relationship!!
The confrontation with Anatoly!! I love how strong and cabable Mot is and how she stands up for herself!
THE EXPLOSION!!! OMG! You wrote the tension in that scene so well!! And then Mot stepping up and taking charge! That was perfect!
I absolutely love how Klaue's arrivals always cause such a disturbance!!
The gun moment!!!! Claire, I stopped breathing!!! I love how you've shown how dangerous he is and how protective of Mot he is!! Major touch her and die vibes!
I also love how you show him struggling to handle his emotions about the whole thing, his concern and his fear.
"That man wouldn't be gone, he'd be dead." -> AH!!!
THE ADMISSION!! It's so perfect!! I love their whole conversation!
"Oh you thought *that* was your apology?" -> OH
I love when he's bossy! And OMG, his mouth!!! Whew!!
"That although you're the one on your knees, it feels like you're the one being worshipped." Oh, that's gorgeous, Claire!!
"I'm going to keep pushing you." "I want you too, Ulysses." -> AHH!! I love them so much!!
Thank you Abby, I'm sp glad you like this! đđ„° This was a challenging but fun chapter to write, and I really wanted to show how gone Klaue is becoming for her (touch her and die, indeed đ), even though they're both still figuring this out. And yeah, that mouth of his is always going to have its moment, he's just so good at being a menace, hehe.