I don't know for how long but my passion for this project has declined over the past months (not because there's less love for Austin on my end). Shifts in my personal life (all good!) demand more focus on RL at the moment and I can't commit to this project as I did in the past year.
Thank you to all that engaged and contributed over the past year. ā„ļøā„ļøā„ļø
Until we meet again here feel free to reach out on my personal blog.
This is for all MOTA creators and all characters, themes and ships! All forms of creative work are welcome - writing, physical or digital art, edits, collages, music etc.Ā
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The Hope weekend will consist of three days (friday-sunday), all of which have their own hope-set (much similar to the whump-sets during the MOTA whumpfest). These sets will contain different kinds of prompts and creative inspiration that you can use when creating your own fanwork.Ā
You decide yourself how you want to interpret and draw inspiration from each dayās set. You can base your work on one part of each set or all of it, whatever you prefer.Ā
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Recommending works
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Note that no AI, of any kind, is allowed at this event.Ā This weekend aspires to focus on real people, human made art, and how we can make the world a better place through our creative expressions and outlets together.
He don't hang around with the gang no more. He don't do the wild things that he did before.
You told him to quit. He quit. This is what you wanted. So why does it feel like somethingās missing.
Word Count: 2.9k
Masterlist
@dailydoseofaustinbutler
Waking up next to Benny never gets old.
It used to be rare ā a handful of nights a week if you were lucky, and half the time youād reach for him in the morning and the bed would be empty and the front door open and heād be gone, out before sunrise. But now. Every morning. Every single morning heās here, on his stomach with his face smashed into the pillow and one arm hanging off the bed, dead to the world. You could set the house on fire and he wouldnāt flinch.
You trace a line down his spine and he makes a sound that isnāt a word and pulls you closer without opening his eyes. You press your mouth to his shoulder blade and he rolls over and pulls you on top of him and grins up at you with his eyes half-shut and his hair everywhere.
āStop starinā at me.ā
āIām not staring.ā
āYouāre breathinā on my face.ā
āThatās called being close to you. Most people like it.ā
āMost people havenāt seen you at 7 a.m.ā
You kiss him and he kisses you back and his hands are warm and his mouth is warm and the light is coming through the curtain. This is what every fight was about. Every 3 a.m. door slam, every morning you woke up alone with his side of the bed still cold. You wanted him here. Heās here.
Itās been a few weeks since he quit the club. Youād had the fight ā the same one as always, the one where you said I canāt do this anymore and he looked at you and didnāt argue. He never argues. He just goes quiet and still and looks at you with those eyes and itās worse than arguing because arguing you could win. But this time he said okay. Just like that. And youād won. Youād finally won.
Heās home and heās yours and heās got all this energy with nowhere to put it, so he puts it into the house. You come home one afternoon and heās in the yard with his shirt off, hacking at the overgrown patch along the fence thatās been driving you crazy all summer. Heās got the shears in one hand and a cigarette in his mouth and sweat running down his back and you stand at the kitchen window and watch him for longer than youād ever admit to anyone. The tattoos moving on his skin as he works. His shoulders. The way he shoves his hair back with his forearm because his hands are full. He catches you watching through the glass and raises an eyebrow and you look away too fast and he grins and you can see it even from inside.
āLooks good,ā you say when you go out, meaning the yard, mostly.
āUh huh,ā he says, and he knows you donāt mean the yard.
He fixes the porch step. The one thatās been loose since you moved in. Youāve been asking him to fix it for months ā youāve been telling him, actually, because asking didnāt work ā and he always said heād get to it and never got to it because he was never here long enough to get to anything. Now heās sitting on the porch with a hammer and nails and a piece of wood he got from somewhere and heās doing it. Just doing it. No complaining, no putting it off, just his hands and the hammer and that focus he has, the one where the rest of the world goes away.
āYouāre actually fixing it,ā you say from the doorway.
āYou asked me to fix it.ā
āI asked you six months ago.ā
āSo Iām fixinā it.ā
āShould I make a list of everything else? Because Iāve got a list, Benny.ā
āDonāt push it.ā
You sit on the top step and hand him nails when he needs them and the afternoon is warm and easy and he finishes and stands on the step and bounces on it a couple of times to test it and it holds and he looks at you.
āSolid,ā he says.
āMy hero.ā
āDonāt start.ā
But heās almost smiling and the step is fixed and the yard is trimmed and thereās sawdust on his jeans and he looks good. He looks really good. And you think: see? This works. He just needed something to do with his hands.
Except he runs out of things.
The yardās done. The stepās done. He tightens a couple of hinges, fixes the drip under the bathroom sink, rehangs a picture thatās been crooked for a year. It doesnāt take him long to work through everything that actually needs doing, and then the house is done. Everything works. Nothing creaks or drips or sticks. And Benny is standing in the kitchen with nothing in his hands and nowhere to go.
He doesnāt wear his boots in the house anymore. You used to scream at him about those boots ā the mud, the oil, the black marks all over the kitchen floor. Heād walk through every room like the house was just more road. Youād be on your hands and knees scrubbing boot prints off the tile and heād walk right across the wet floor in them and youād fantasise about murder. So the clean floor should feel like a victory. And it does. Itās just that without them his walk is different ā that rolling, easy thing in his hips is gone, the way he used to move through a room like he was arriving even when he was just crossing the kitchen. Now he pads around in his socks and barely makes a sound. And his hair ā you catch yourself staring at him while youāre watching TV and he catches you catching yourself.
āWhat?ā
āNothing.ā
Itās not that it looks bad. Itās that it doesnāt look like anything. It used to have this tousled thing. Not styled, Benny never styled anything in his life, but it had life in it. Wind and speed and not giving a damn, and it all added up to this look that wasnāt a look, it was just him. Now he showers and it dries flat and he doesnāt touch it. Doesnāt push it back, doesnāt run his hand through it, doesnāt do any of the nothing he used to do that somehow made it right. It just sits there like it belongs to someone else.
You file these things away. You donāt think about them too hard. Heās here. Thatās what matters.
But now that the house is fixed and the yard is done, Benny has nothing to do except be in the way. Youāre trying to cook and heās in front of the refrigerator. Door open, cold pouring out, staring at the shelves. Youāre behind him with a pot of water and he is directly, geometrically, precisely between you and the stove.
āBenny.ā
Nothing.
āBenny. Move.ā
He takes out a beer, looks at it, puts it back. Takes out the orange juice. Puts that back too. Closes the fridge and opens it again.
āIf you donāt move Iām going to pour this on your head.ā
He shifts about four inches. You squeeze past him with the pot held high and your hip against the counter and he doesnāt even register it.
āWeāre outta eggs.ā
āTheyāre behind the milk.ā
He moves the milk. Finds the eggs. Doesnāt take any out. Closes the door.
āIām goinā outside,ā he says.
He goes outside. Sits on the step ā the one he fixed, the one that doesnāt creak anymore ā and lights a cigarette.
He picks a fight with you about the fan. The fan. The old green metal box fan in the window, rattling away on high, and Benny is standing there staring at it like itās a personal enemy.
āYouāve got it blowing the wrong way.ā
āItās a fan, Benny. It blows air.ā
āYouāre supposed to point it out the window. Sucks the hot air out. Youāve got it pulling the street air in.ā
āItās fine the way it is.ā
āItās not fine. Youāre tryinā to cool the place with hot air. Thatās not how it works.ā
Benny, who once threw a chair through a window at a bar, who once rode home in a thunderstorm because somebody looked at you wrong at a gas station, is getting loud about which direction a box fan should face. His jaw does the thing ā that clench that used to mean somebody was about to get hit. It used to mean the fuse was lit and you had about half a second before everything went sideways because Benny didnāt have a slow burn. He had a match and gasoline and nothing in between. Now the jaw clenches and unclenches and nothing happens. Like striking a match in the rain.
āForget it,ā he says, and walks into the bedroom.
You come home one afternoon and heās taken the kitchen cabinet doors off. All of them. Theyāre leaning against the wall in a stack and heās standing on a chair with a screwdriver. It looks like a bomb went off.
āWhat the hell are you doing?ā
āThis one was stickinā.ā
āOne was sticking. So you took them all off?ā
āFigured while I was at it.ā
āBenny, I was gone for forty-five minutes.ā
He doesnāt look at you. Heās focused on the hinge with that same intensity that used to be reserved for his bike, for the road, for the split second before a fight when everything in him narrowed to a point. The cabinets were fine. Heās inventing problems because heās run out of real ones.
āCan you put them back on.ā
āWhen Iām done.ā
āWhen will you be done?ā
āWhen theyāre fixed.ā
You leave him to it. Two hours later the cabinet doors are back on. Every one of them swings perfectly. He opens and closes them all to show you. You say thank you. He sits on the couch and stares at the TV and you stand in the kitchen with your perfect cabinets and the something-wrong feeling is getting harder to ignore.
He kisses you goodnight ā this soft, quick thing, his mouth on yours for half a second. Done. A stamp. A receipt. Transaction complete. You lie in bed afterwards thinking about the first time he kissed you. Parking lot of the Stoplight. He didnāt ask, didnāt hesitate, just walked you backward into the side of someoneās truck with his hand in your hair and his mouth on yours and the absolute certainty that you were in over your head and didnāt care. He kissed you like a dare. He doesnāt kiss you like anything anymore. He kisses you like someone honouring a deal.
Heās not sleeping. You know because youāre not either. You lie there and listen to him breathe and itās all wrong ā too even, too controlled. Heās awake and staring at the ceiling and performing sleep for your benefit. Sometimes at 2 or 3 a.m. he gets up and you hear the back door. You give it ten minutes and then you go out and heās sitting on the step in his boxers, smoking, looking at the road. Not at anything on the street. At the asphalt itself.
āCome back to bed.ā
He does. He always does.
Youāre in the cereal aisle at the grocery store and it hits you. Youāre thinking about the night you met him ā the bar, him at the pool table, jacket and boots and that jaw, watching the room like it owed him something. He caught you looking and didnāt smile ā just held your gaze until your stomach dropped and your friend grabbed your arm and said donāt and you were already walking over. That guy. You fell in love with that guy. And then you spent two years trying to put the fire out. And it worked. Thatās the worst part.
He smiles at you across the kitchen table that evening and you see it. It starts in the right place. Itās heading the right direction. But it doesnāt get there. It stalls halfway, this effortful thing, like an engine turning over in the cold. He used to smile like breathing ā easy, fast, real. Now thereās a half-second delay where the work shows and it hits you right there with the dinner going cold ā this is what you did. You asked him to be something heās not and he did it because he loves you and itās killing him.
āBenny.ā
āYeah?ā
āI uh āā
āWhat is it?ā
āJesus.ā You shake your head. āI never thought Iād say this, but ā I think you should start riding again.ā
The smile ā the wrong one ā drops off his face.
āIām serious. Youāve fixed everything in this house. The yard, the porch, the sink, the cabinets ā Benny, youāre running out of things to take apart.ā
āBut you told me to quit. This is what you wanted.ā
āI know I did. And I was wrong.ā
That sits between you for a second.
āYou were wrong,ā he says. Not mean. Careful. Like heās checking.
āYeah. I was wrong. I was worried about you and I was tired of fighting, and I love that you did this for me Benny, but it was wrong. This isnāt you, itās like somethingās died. And itās my fault.ā
He looks at the table. Looks at the front door. Looks at you.
āYou sure?ā
āNo,ā you say. Because youāre not. Youāre terrified. Youāre terrified of the 3 a.m. door and the cold sheets and the bruises and the sirens and the phone call youāve rehearsed in your head a thousand times, the one that starts with maāam. Youāre scared of all of it.
āBut Iād rather be scared than watch you disappear.ā
He gets up. Grabs the boots from the front door ā the dirty old black ones that havenāt moved in weeks ā and sits on the step to pull them on. You lean in the doorway and watch him lace them and his hands are quick and sure and something in his shoulders is already different. Straighter. More like him.
āIāll see you later,ā you say.
He looks at you over his shoulder. Nods once. Finishes lacing up and walks down the street and the walk is already different ā that rolling thing coming back into his body like it was just waiting ā and you watch him until he rounds the corner.
You grab a beer. You sit on the front step ā the one he fixed, the one that holds solid.
Heās not coming home tonight. You know that. Heāll get the bike and heāll ride and heāll find the guys at the bar and fall right back into it like the last two months didnāt happen. Heāll be out all night and tomorrow night too, probably, and heāll come home when he comes home, if he comes home, because thatās the other thing ā Benny has always told you he might just go. Maybe I should just go. Heās said it standing in the doorway with the keys in his hand. Heās said it flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling, like heās reminding himself itās an option. Heās said it enough times that youāve stopped being able to tell whether itās a threat or a promise or just the truth.
Maybe tonightās the night he means it. Maybe he rides out and keeps riding. Maybe youāll sit on this step tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, waiting for a sound that doesnāt come.
And you know what? Youād rather that. Youād rather the worry and the cold sheets and the not-knowing than one more day of the version of Benny who smiles at you like itās the hardest thing heās ever done.
You go to bed. You leave the window open.
You donāt sleep. You lie there and listen and every car that passes isnāt the right sound.
Itās almost four when you hear it.
Blocks away. That low rumble. Your body knows it before the rest of you catches on.
Closer.
The engine cuts. The front door opens.
He doesnāt take his boots off.
You hear them on the floor ā heavy, real, tracking in dirt and road and God knows what ā and you laugh into the pillow because there is mud on your clean kitchen floor and it is the best thing you have ever heard.
He comes into the bedroom windblown and grinning ā the real grin, the full one, effortless ā grease on his forearms, his hair wrecked from the wind, alive and tousled and exactly right. His whole body is loose and easy, like someone opened every window in a room thatās been shut for months.
He kicks the boots off onto the carpet. Thud. Thud. Dirt and all. Drops his jacket. Gets undressed and gets in beside you, warm from the ride, smelling like engine oil and summer night air, and puts his hand on your face and kisses you.
Not the goodnight kiss. His hand in your hair, his mouth hard and warm and sure ā the dare, the whole dare, the one from the parking lot, the one that says try and stop me.
āWhereād you go?ā you say against his mouth.
āBar. Then rode out. Then back.ā
āYou smell terrible.ā
āYou love it.ā
His arm goes around you, warm and heavy and loose, and heās real and solid and him. The happy ending was never him quitting. It was always this ā the 4 a.m. door and the warm hands and the mud on the floor and the kiss that isnāt careful. The going and the coming back. The coming back was always the point.
Thereās going to be boot prints all over the floor in the morning.
Lips: Two scenarios where Feyd used his lips to calm Arula (I'm dead tired today so I'm sorry if the editing was shit.) Words: 5140
Warnings: angst, ALMOST SMUT, biting, hickeys, manipulation, Dom Feyd, scary Feyd, canon typical violence, murder, gore, dubcon moments, minor nipple play, trauma bonded
The site.
A couple weeks after their engagement; just five days before they were going to officially introduce her as his intended before society, Arula joined Feyd at a dig site. With the understanding there was some work to be done since the Baron was unimpressed with the output of this particular find. But she was excited nonetheless.
She'd seen so little of this vast universe. Now she would see things younger than herself, completely foreign. Yet still relics to those who found them. On a long abandoned planet covered in strange white sand and rocky cliffs, a lost ship that existed in a strange time when some chose to rent homes on constantly traveling barges was found.
Wearing a long form fitted dress of soft rich burgundy fabric. Paired with an equally long leather duster to fight off the sand, and a scarf wrapped over her head, she looked the part of an explorer. Feyd wore his armor. And Arula found herself occasionally struck by how fine he looked in it.
With the ride there spent listening to Feyd explain the story of the lost hundreds. And only imagined humans choosing to live aboard cruise ships when the ocean still held enough water for pleasure sailing. Apparently from what scientists on site could tell the navigation was severely damaged in an unexpected meteor shower. Sending them so far off course they were caught in the once strong planet's gravitational pull.
Approaching the giant wreck, it loomed across the horizon. Blocking out the sun's light so that it was haloed from behind, making it seem even more imposing. The side they were meant to enter through scraped across the ground face down when the ship crashed. Leaving a large portion of a long circular corridor missing and open to the whims of nature.
The outside of the ship looked a dingy red gray. But Fedy showed her pictures of a beautiful silver dream ship she could imagine anyone falling for, for the right price. "It's... huge." He slowed his pace, dropping back so he was step in step with her and replied with a huff.
"We've found bigger in better shape, some we even salvaged useable parts from." With a hand on her lower back he helped her step up into the craft. Holding her by the hips as him and a soldier spoke quickly enough she struggled to keep up. The noise from men carrying things in and out of the halls as they walked toward the main cabin made it difficult for her chip to understand each word.
"Is something wrong." She wrapped her fingers around his, leaning in nervously. Feyd looked happier than she'd seen him all day. "There so much more here than expected. Most people's personal effects have stood the test of time." He kept his voice raised so she could catch his meaning
"It seems the few passengers that survived quickly developed some sort of religion around sand lizards that still lived at the time. They let them in. Fed themselves over believing they should be dead already." Arula shuddered but he pulled her close to give her a passionate kiss. "Its going to be a wonderful afternoon."
It wasn't often she struggled to gather the meaning from his expression; however, she'd never seen this sort of joy. He was anticipating something, and she knew it was much more than a few old knickknacks. Maybe they'd found things that made other mysteries clearer, and so made other failed missions now a success. Otherwise there must be millions on board.
They entered the main cabin, a large circular room with steel colored walls. Beautiful carvings of ocean life flowed along pretend waves over balconies and walkways. Arula felt herself tear up when she imagined children using the long abandoned rotting playground in the center of a large pit whose sand was mostly missing.
Feyd didn't seem to notice her distress, only kept his hand at the center of her lower back. Holding her close and rubbing it over the spot when he was hit with particular excitement. "This place was beautiful." She almost whispered the words, but he stopped in place anyway. Scanning the room. "They had skilled craftsmen, if only their navigator had held such skill."
She rolled her eyes and allowed him to take them to a group of men sitting on large black crates at the center of the room. The largest of them, wearing armor much like Feyd's with a red cape over one arm, jumped up looking shocked. "My Lord."
He hit one knee and bent his head. "You surprised us with this... Wonderful visit." Looking up at his Baron the man noticed her standing close behind. "And you brought our future Baroness." For a second someone addressing her by the unfamiliar title went unnoticed to her.
She looked behind wondering if another ship had landed to join. But then Feyd dug the tips of his fingers in her hip. "Oh..." she whispered the word embarrassed. Then moved around the front of her companion, slowering the scarf over her face. This was a big moment for Feyd as a military commander and she was aware of it.
The soldiers all started to murmur to one another. Most seemed more or less happy with her. Some called her a living ghost. One man made a symbol with his hands she could only assume was religious. "The men here are doing good work commander. Your lord has been in a fine mood this morning looking forward to our visit."
It felt a bit like playing princess. But Feyd kissed the back of her neck, and tucked her tight against his side. "My beautiful bride speaks true. I have been eager to arrive, unfortunately to keep things moving smoothly I had to refrain from explaining why we really came."
Now she felt uneasy. With a gentle push he sent her to stand between familiar men who acted as his security when she'd joined him for their last outings. But he stalked toward the broad old man who still remained on one knee. "What purpose could you have other than to see the spoils of your perfect planning."
Lord Harkonnen was out of patience with the back and forth however. Taking a small circular object out of his pocket he pressed the top of it. Everyone stood in stunned silence as a conversation between the familiar voice of the man on the floor and an unknown second female discussed the price for fifteen percent of what they found in the wreckage. Including an extra cut for technology Feyd did not yet have his hands on.
Covering her mouth with one hand, she knew something awful was coming. Clenching his jaw the commander stood wavering only slightly on his feet. "I did only what the Harkonnen would have in my position, in a world where there are suddenly so many chances to make my family a better name."
Taking his blade from his waist the man threw his short silver hair off his forehead, realizing his Baron wasn't here for excuses. "You made one critical mistake Harvid." Feyd lunged forward and in two steps pulled a knife from his boot and slid behind the slightly taller man. Lifting his wrist just enough to slit one side of his carotid. Finishing with a horrifying but beautiful turn on one heal to slice the other side in the same place.
When he finished he was standing in front of the source of his anger. Eyes wide in fascination, lips twitching over his black teeth. While the soon to be dead soldier tried to hold the sides of his throat together. Not a single man stepped forward to help. "Harkonnen's wouldn't get found out."
Thinking she may be sick Arula moved to find somewhere out of sight to hide till it ended. But her second step forward, kicked something in front of her on the ground and Feyd spun to see her standing stiff as a board a few feet behind him. His pupils were blown, and he panted the way he did when he chased her from the dining room to their bedroom after dinner at night.
"Come here." She tiptoed nearer. Stalling for time until he reached out and yanked her by the arm, pulling her close. "He betrayed us. We can't allow something like that to grow in such a delicate time." Pushing aside the moral battle in her soul, and the sight of Feyd's victim slumped on his side bleeding out over the once lovely pale carpet she understood.
"You're rebuilding your empire. It requires men you can trust absolutely." A dark but proud chuff of excitement came from him and he pulled her eyes off the dead man and to his face. "That's right. And what about all these men here?" Pointing out several men with patches and pins, stating high positions at the post.
"Most of them knew." She didn't sound like she was stating fact or happy to make the realization. "What was that, Baroness?" His voice made the word sound like a promise more than a title. "It's... a rather small operation. Less than 250 men total. Six or so captains just under the leader, there is no way to steal away as much as fifteen percent and have no one notice."
She knew if she looked at his eyes, he would be thrilled with her but she couldn't make herself. "And they're being so brazen about it. No one noticed you brought a spy close enough to record, so they must talk about it fairly openly." Behind them, one of the men wearing a captains insignia tried to dash down a nearby hallway. "Stop him."
When Feyd roared the words the room went up in chaos. Trying to save their own skin two other men in the same position stopped their equal. Then all of them screamed their stories at once. Which one came up with it, who had been forced. With so much noise she could barely make it out. Feyd only shook his head.
Tsking the men and frowning. "Now, why would you think I give a damn what any of you have to say for yourself. The punishment for stealing from me is DEATH." More thunderous shouts. Voices layered over one another. "But," all of them went deathly silent "I can be reasonable. It's fair to think maybe one of you didn't know."
Before they could start pleading their cases, he lifted a finger in the air. "No no." She could feel his other hand a trembling with excitement on her hip. "One of you gets to live. Thats my mercy. But I have no intention to waste the rest of my day listening to lies."
Taking the knife from his side he tossed it to the floor in front of the men. "Last one out gets to be the piss grunt for the newly appointed leadership arriving soon." Panic set in her stomach as each man clambered to their hands and knees. All of them going for the blade.
Moving her directly in front of him, Feyd wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. Cheek rested against her hair. The fight thrilled him, his breathing ragged and heavy. Arula only wrapped her hands between his overlapped arms. Hiding the way her nails dug in the skin on his hand as she clenched it.
It didn't bother him. He turned his fist so she could lace her fingers through his and squeeze them. Doing her best to seem at best unaffected by the scene in front of them. "You're doing fine."
His soft lips against the crest of her ear pulled her momentarily from the shock of one soldier digging the eyes from anothers sockets with his thumbs. Instantly she chased the distraction. Angling her face up so she could nip someone insistently at his jaw.
Glee filled his deep blues when he looked down to meet her eyes. Each pupil grew wider around the edges when she leaned up on her toes in search of his mouth. Urgently he rushed his lips down to hers.
Holding her jaw almost painfully between his thumb and the tips of his fingers on either side Feyd nearly swallowed her whole. Anything was better than having to watch the last three men desperately swiping broken arms and wide sliced fingers at one another.
Arula wrapped one arm up and around the back of his head. Scratching at where his armor prevented her from touching more skin. He laughed into her mouth, pulling back to run the tip of his nose up hers. "You made the right choice, pretty sleeper." Keeping his voice low he brushed his thumb over the blooming bruise from his grip.
"We couldn't have trusted them. But now, the last left will be one of the most loyal men my service." Bending her neck back he leaned in closer, scraping his teeth over her racing pulse. "You have to stay to the end, it's important they see you seeing through our choice."
Lips flat against the nape of her neck he kept her attention on the terror. Closing his arms around her again so there was nowhere else to go. Arula took long deep breaths. It was moments away from over now. The one who'd had the sense to run in the first place was under a man half his size.
This unexpected top dog was using a large chunk of scrap from a pile of disguarded wreckage to bash the face of his former brother in arms. Like a rabid animal he lifted the jagged edged bludgeon over his head and slammed it down with all the strength he had left.
Just as the end seemed clear this would be victor stood up on wobbling legs. Trudging over the body of his nearly dead comrade he reached two blood soaked arms in their direction.
Clearly struggling to talk he just made odd croaking sounds. Green eyes bright and bulging from the deep brown red blood coating his skin. "I..." her heart jumped when he lurched forward a few steps in quick succession.
It was the first time Feyd showed a reaction beyond curiosity. Lifting her off her feet and tucking Arula just behind him. "You what?" He cocked one naked brow. Then she saw it, the small wound pouring thick red blood down his already stained left side.
"He's dying." Nothing could hide the pity in her voice and the solider immediately turned to her with all the emotions of a man who was on the brink of winning just to realize he'd already lost swirling in his glassy eyes. Part of her wanted to reach for him, but that sort of kindness had no place now.
Feyd took another step sideways blocking her from view. Kicking out one leg and knocking the fallen man on his back. "There are no angels here for you traitor. Fate as determined you all die on this day." Unmistakable joy weaved through every syllable.
Nauseated by the sounds of the mans last gasps for life she crowded in closer. Tucking her fingertips around the thick leather plates of his armor at the back. Unexpectedly he maneuvered his arm behind himself to pinch at her side and hold the skin almost softly. She took a deep breath and rested one hand over his in a show of thanks.
When the crowd around grew louder Feyd stood tall again, speaking over all of it without needing to shout. "Now you what happens when you think you're getting away with it. I always know." He made a slow circle with eyes catching eyes that tried to look away from his glare.
Tightening his grip on her side he tugged only a little, but she knew what he wanted. With every hope of achieving whatever image Fehd was trying to project, she moved to his side. Sliding herself under his arm and standing straight again.
"My future wife and I are going to spend some time investigating the riches locked up here." With a wide gesture at the piles of black crates and chests he made his point. The show was over. And slowly each man turned, taking one last look at the six dead men, and quietly got back to it.
The room going silent there was little left to go but take in the gore. Six men who ripped one another apart like they were strangers, leaving pools of blood and viscera scattered within the stacks of bounty.
Aware that Feyd hadn't spoken when he moved away from her, she couldn't make herself meet his eyes. "I apologize." From a few feet away, tossing clothes out of a chest to see what hid beneath he turned around looking confused. "For?" Still filled with adrenaline from the show he was smiling nearly ear to ear.
Wiping dust from his hands he came back to her, pulling her body to his with no resistance. "Watching people die is new to you." He spoke like she was under prepared for a day at the office, not reeling from seeing men at their worst to save themselves.
Delicately with the tips of his fingers he moved the hair from her eyes. "You did what I hoped most you would." With a sigh she shrugged. "Not puking?" With a hum he shook his head.
"You understood what had to happen." One soft press after another he kissed his way from her temple to her neck. Each graze of his tongue over goosebumped flesh feeling like a bandage over her racing thoughts. "You didn't try to stop it, or plead for their lives."
From the back of her thighs he started to bunch her dress up to her hips. Frigid air trapped in the depths of the ship gusting between her legs. "I don't expect the violence to come as naturally to you as I have." Taking one cheek of her bottom he squeezed till she hissed.
Licking over teeth marks from the night before on her shoulder Feyd pulled her impossiblely closer by the hips. Braced with a hand on each of his shoulders. His still pleased hums mixed with the wet sound of his lips moving down to the peaks of her chest just visible at the bottom of her dresses swooped neck. "You're doing well Arula."
Cupping his neck to stay steady she pulled at the top of his pants, trying to shift the tactical belt out of the way. Nearly giggling he took her wrist. "They're not made to come down easily."
Closing his lips over hers he stopped her protest. "Shhh. I have no plans to leave you in need of me." Picking her up with both arms wrapped at the top of her thighs just under her bottom he kissed over the top of the dress where her belly would be. Walking her backward till she could slide back on one of the larger piles of loot.
"Open." Not hesitating a moment she spread her legs to allow Feyd's slow progess up the inside of her thighs. Starting at the knee he licked up, trailing his bottom lip behind.
When he nearly reached where she wanted him most he started on the other side and did the same. Walking his fingers up her legs to grab the edge of her panties and remove them. Following there path with nips at random intervals.
"It's so easy to be proud of you." One arm tucked under her head she brushed her other fingers back and forth over the smooth dome of his scalp. Feeling her blood settle and the events of the afternoon make peace with themselves inside her mind.
"I want to make you happy Feyd." Somewhere inside the version of herself that fell alseep all those years ago looked out at who she was now and felt afraid. Awareness that she should feel further from him every time he nudged her past her comfort zone. But she only wanted him more.
Her beast only chuckled, hot breath making her folds twitch. "I know you do Arula." And her reward was the perfect sensation of his pillow lips closing around her throbbing nub. Neither of them saying anything else meant to make it past the room they played in for the next hour or two.
Wedding Worries
Eventually talking about marriage went from hypothetical conversations to decisions needing to be made. Shockingly Feyd cared little for the details of the day. His main concern had been a bride worth having. Everything else he left to her.
So for two weeks her days were filled with men and women she'd seen only once or twice before teaching her the traditions of a Harkonnen wedding, what was needed to please the Imperium, and how she may accomplish both. All of it was too much at first, but as the days passed she enjoyed having a purpose.
Taking her the most by surprise was finding out her future family's colors were not black, red or grey. But blue and orange. "Do... Do you like orange?" Posing the question over breakfast one morning she watched him drop the egg from his fork. "No."
Resting an elbow on the table and placing his chin on that fist he watched her eat for a while. "Are you planning on using orange in the arrangements?" With a nervous shrug she set her cutlery down. "There are a lot of rules, and even more expectations. But, I do want you to be happy with how things turn out."
Feyd picked his fork back up. "It's good you're taking it all so seriously, sleeper. But don't bother yourself with my preferences. I wanted a wife, not a wedding. Were it my choice we would've signed contracts when you woke up and that would be it. You'd be mine, everything else would've worked out in time."
Part of her wished they could have done the same. This whole matter of satisfying a crowd of people she hardly knew or understood was daunting. "Could we?" The joke went over his well and he sat his fork down again.
"We can sign the papers tonight if you wish." Running his tongue over one tooth between words he made a causal motion with his hand. "I'm more than confident there's still several ways I haven't tried you yet. We will still save something for the night after the public wedding."
Watching Feyd shift in his seat imagining whatever he'd been keeping close for their special night, Arula realized that while he cared almost nothing for the pomp and glitter of the occasion, the result meant quite a lot to him. "You know... I would do whatever it is you're thinking of anyway."
Chair pushed back from the table he stood and walked around to stand behind her. Both hands closed around her neck. Fingers laced in the front, thumbs massaging her hairline at the back of her neck. "Of course you would."
Index fingers lifted, he pushed her chin up and bent to place a long, messy kiss on her lips. Swallowing the satisfied sound she let out when he pushed his tongue past her lips. "And you'll look so pretty all strung up." Forehead to hers he pet the side of her face with the back of his knuckles. Holding her gaze with his.
"My position means we are destined to perform for the carnival occasionally." The hand still around her neck moved lower, dipping past her dress to fondle her breasts below. "But each successful outing will be followed by a night of ample praise."
Arula sucked in a heedy breath following his promise. Her hands were flat against the table, waiting to see if this turned to a full moment of passion between them. Or if it was just his odd brand of affection. A question nagged its way from her mind to her tongue. "What if I fail?"
Pursing his lips he didn't reply for a beat. "Mmmhhh." Fingers twisting over the soft skin, his grip on her breast grew almost too tight. "I will give you good reason not to fail again." His thumb and index finger rolled one nipple between them, pinching down.
Arula lifted from her seat but he pushed her back down. "Stay." His other hand moved from her neck, aiming her legs back toward her chair. "Once you succeed where you failed, the prize will be just as sweet as if you never failed at all."
Trimmed nails left red marks on where they dug in her skin. "It's a better deal than I ever got Arula. Consider yourself lucky." For the first time in a long while the urge to remove herself from his arms was creeping up her spine. "I haven't failed yet, Feyd."
A small whine of panic hid in the back of her statement and Feyd drank it in. Smiling against her cheek he rolled her nipple the opposite direction. "No, but this is only a game." Long tongue pressed flat to her skin he licked from her ear to her shoulder, yanking the fabric out of the way with the hand not inside her dress.
"If it's a game then both of us should enjoy it." She turned her face from his body. Fighting for cool air to calm her rising anxiety. With a snarl he bit down where he'd been sucking. Both feet flat on the floor she reared up in his arms. "Stop!"
Neither of them moved. Arula realized it was the first time she'd yelled at him. Clenching his teeth deeper before he released the skin between them he pulled back slowly. A predator's eyes looked at her when he came back around the table to stand at her side.
With her pinned in the chair, wrists bound to the arms by his fingers. "Have I upset you dearest?" He was smirking. Nothing but casual ease in his tone. She refused to meet his glare again. "You're being... rude."
A deep rumbling chuckle spilled from his lips. A rare real smile gracing his features. "Oh no. I'm sorry." Pressing his lips over hers he clenched his jaw when she didn't return the gesture. "Now who's rude?" "I just want to finish breakfast. I have a busy morning after."
He pulled back, disgust clear. "So you're telling me no?" Moving back in so slowly it made her uneasy he studied the way her face changed. "Give me a kiss, then I'll say I'm sorry." Brown eyes shut tight she leaned forward and crashed her mouth to his before sitting back again.
Feyd stayed where she left him, seeping annoyance. "What a fit over a little pinch. When did you turn so sour, hmmm?" Smothering her with his presence he leaned forward. Brushing his lips and nose along the line of her jaw and down her neck. Nearly crawling on top of her in the chair.
Arula stayed silent, expecting him to move on. "Are we not speaking now either? I don't think you're ready for a real fight, sleeper." Forearms trying to twist in his grip she felt like a rabbit in a trap. The center of his forehead pressing against one of her temples until it hurt.
"I don't know what you want." Feyd laughed once more, chilling her soul. "Try something nice." Arching her back to adjust and find his mouth she offered a better kiss. Opening her lips wide to let his tongue choke her. He groaned against her kiss but didn't let go.
So she moved lower. Breaking the kiss to suck at his bottom lip then roll her tongue over his skin till she found his neck. With a tilt of his head he allowed her access and she sucked at the skin. Nipping and pulling till it turned purple under her attention. "I'm sorry."
"Mmmm, for what?" Her mind went over every second of breakfast. "I... I don't know. I didn't... I didn't do anything." He bent down low. Kissing her, then biting at her lower lip till she tasted blood. "No." Licking the last bit of blood from her chin he shrugged. "You didn't."
Frustration flowered under every inch of her skin. "Then why?" She felt something bubbling over and wished she could hide away anywhere but here. "Maybe I slept poorly." Pressing wet kisses back down the opposite side of her neck he ripped the back of her dress to expose her tanned skin.
Testing the area with his teeth first he sucked a deep bruise to match the one she'd left on him. "Wait..." A few inches to the right he left another. "Why?" Leaving her hands free at last. Hands roaming up her sides, one ending in her hair, the other holding her hip.
"I have a dress fitting later... I've never met the designer before, but they told me she'll take my measurements nude." While she answered he'd left another mark, now moving back up her neck. "Oh, and you don't want them to see my apologies all over your skin?"
The words caught in her throat and she felt a tear drop, rolling off her cheek to his. Feyd stopped. Wiping it from his face and moving back to turn her toward him. "What are you crying for?" He sounded surprisingly uneasy. "I don't understand." Her voice was so fragile, and Arula hated it.
Looking around the room while he chose his words Feyd clicked his tongue over his teeth. "I don't like when you cry." He sounded close to anger. "Okay." She looked away from him but he tugged her hair till she faced him again. "I'm sorry." There was no sweetness or real emotion to the words but they still shocked her. "What."
He stood up, pulling her till she followed him from the chair. Then sat his bottom against the tabletop and spread his legs for her to walk forward until she was between them. "There are many things causing me... strain at the moment."
He held her chin between his thumb and fingers, looking down with some softness. "It gave me some joy to tease you for a while." Leaning down he kissed her for the hundredth time that morning. Only this kiss felt like this sort he spared early in the morning or just after he'd tuckered them out before bed. When he liked her the best.
"I should have tracked your reactions better, pulled back sooner." She only gave a small nod and he pretended a frown to make her laugh. "Come now, kiss me again. Then I'll cover you in apologies, damn the dressmaker, let them see your mine." Against her better judgment, she leaned in.
Warnings: Explicitly Adult material 18+, kissing, PiV unprotected.
A/N: Shout out to @dailydoseofaustinbutler, who has all the deets pinned for this challenge!
The masterlist for this challenge is here.
My big ol masterlist
Day 29 lips
I could feel it, the awakening. Energy pouredĀ through me, no, through us and into the earth around us.Ā I swear I heard them, the stones, rising in a chorus so pure they made my heart ache. It continued to thrum through me as we moved. I let it take over, let it move me, let him feel delicious under my hands, between my thighs and inside me. It was magnificent, glorious, magical, are there any better words? Because none of them come close to what happened that night.Ā
We lay in a sweaty heap for minutes. How many? I donāt know. Time wasnāt real anymore. Finally he chuckled. A low rumble to my ear. I sat up to find the biggest goofiest grin on his face. I was sure it mirrored the one on mine.Ā
āSomething funny?ā I asked, mainly because all women have asked some version of āwhat are you thinking aboutā post sex.Ā
āWow,ā he said, āif thatās not the most spectacular end of a dry spell, I donāt know what is.ā
I stared at his smile. God those lips, that mouth. The skills he had been gatekeeping. The world needed more cunnilingus like that.Ā
āThatās you at eight months huh? My god, how are you when you are getting it on the regular?ā
āI donāt know,ā he ran his warm hands up my rapidly cooling thighs. He caught me in that gaze. You know the one. Where he licks his lips and bores into your soul, āYou want to find out?āĀ
The question hung between us like salt in the air. It meant so much more than the words themselves. I had met this man mere hours ago, then lured him into ritualistic sex, where he not only was up to the challenge, but seriously blew my expectations out of the water.Ā And the truth is, I did. I did want to find out. Fuck it, I was going to find out. I sucked at my teeth like I was pondering it, letting the silence linger. He didnāt even flinch, just held me with those gorgeous eyes.Ā
āWell, I really should get more data points, make sure you arenāt a one-trick pony,ā I teased.
āOne trick pony? One trick pony?ā he said in mock incredulity. Then he was tickling my sides. I squirmed and giggled and tickled him back. Somehow he ended on top of me, hands in my hair, kissing me deeply and thoroughly once more. I could live like this.Ā
āIām serious Kit,ā he finally said, āThis is just too good for just one moon -filled encounter."Ā
I glanced at my non-exsistent watch. āIām gonna need takeout. So, is an hour to get home and eat gonna be enough for you to recover?ā I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing, cuz I could already feel him getting hard again against my inner thigh.Ā
The glint in his eye said what the curl of his lip didnāt get to.
My legs spread as though heād said the magic word and his cock slid home like it knew inside me was where it belonged.Ā Ā
āAfter this, yeah an hour should do.āĀ
Needless to say, by the time the sun put the moon to bed, heād proven himself to be āmultitalentedā in multiple locations. And yes, he did more than nudge me for breakfast, even if it was the afternoon.
A Grande Gesture: Arula's feelings are discovered sooner than she anticipated. Feyd has an unexpected reaction.
Warnings: mentions of sex, biting, affectionate rough handling. Words: 2740
Hunched over on an oversized wooden stool, Arula studied the eyes in front of her carefully. They looked almost perfect, but there was something she couldn'trecreate from the stare that drove her mad. For days she'dbeen working on this portraitof sorts. How did she see Feyd, without reference or interjecion.
"What are you painting now?" Inhaling from surprise she leaned to the to see him around the torso sized canvas. "Nothing. It's not ready." Instinct told her to rip it from the easel and throw it into the dark. But she was already caught.
Making a slow circle he grinned as he closed in on her. "Oh... a secret is it?" Each ear drum pounded in her head. Blood rushing to her more sensitive areas as an immediate response to his neatness. Since the archive, he'd found he rather enjoyed surprising her here and there to reintroduce her to the unending well of desire he had for her, and what new ways he'd dreamed up to express it.
"Would you like to go to the bedroom?" This quick offer stopped him in his path. "The bedroom? What's wrong with here? I thought I may paint you red then let you ride me like a demon." Despite the mess she saw in its aftermath the idea was more than a little enticing.
"Alright." She dropped her small brush in the cleaning solution and stood. But his eyes were held to something on the back of her canvas. "Captor?" No, he wasn't meant to see it, not like this. "It's just a name, not even the name, just... I donno."
Shoulders back tight he walked in his black tank and military tank until the painting looked back at him. A nearly complete portrait. He stood in front of a burnt red backdrop. Surrounded by harsh brush strokes of blues and purple. Over the chaos he stood, slightly turned to the right, looking directly at the viewer.
Feyd looked a picture of royalty. Strong features on proud display, she hoped she'd made him handsome. "This is how you see me?" Looking at the image that seemed somehow still just a touch off she shrugged. "I think so." Nodding his voice was flat, but there was a current in it that made her anxious.
"And I'm your captor, that's who I am?" She stepped forward, attempting to trust the shift growing between them. "Captor means a lot of things, Feyd. Art... It's a feeling. And feelings are complicated."
Not missing a beat he snapped. "Oh, so you mean to insinuate I have not only your body but your heart in my hands?" He was laughing. But she couldn't, she didn't even look back in his direction. Just stared at the portrait and realized his eyes looked wrong because she'd painted him with the strong face he showed in public, but the rare soft eyes he showed her when he was entirely pleased with her.
"Maybe." It clearly took a second for her words to sink in. And his laughter stopped on a dime in response. "What?" Now he looked at her with ever changing versions of something near pity. "It's... complicated. You saved me, you gave me a life I never imagined... you're funny." Feyd took two steps back. "Oh." Then without another word he turned to leave.
For the following two days they hardly spoke. Eating in quiet and staying that way until he tried to fuck whatever confusion he was working through out. Then he'd crush her to his chest again the way he had in the beginning. Like a new worry of her falling through his grasp in the night returned.
On the third she finished the work of art and resolved to hide it in the back of her makeshift craft room. A thick black cloth tossed over top to hide it like a crime. Trying to decide what to do about all of it now.
Later that morning she was taking in an early lunch inside the greenhouse. Breathing the earthy smells of soil and plants, even if it somehow smelt more similar to a hospital setting than a garden. Arula missed the woods, missed exploring and finding the few last vestiges of green in her brown ruined world. Now she stayed here, in this metal home floating through the stars.
"You're getting good at finding places to tuck away in a ship that's mostly full of unpleasant spaces." She set her apple like purple fruit down on the arm of the bench next to her. Opening her toes in the brown imitation dirt under her feet. "You were beginning to like finding me."
Without faltering he sat down on the bench next to her. "My urge for you hasn't been reduced only because I know you're... more affected than I anticipated." A wave of relief washed over her. "But. There are things you need to understand if you're going to love me Arula." Bobbing her head with too much confidence she rushed a reply. "I know you can't love me, Feyd."
Making a sound she'd never heard he shifted, giving off the appearance of being mildly uncomfortable. "I tried to love something once. One of the women I kept before the ones you'll remember. She was gone before you came."
Arula knew of his Darlings, he'd brought them up under different titles depending on how he wanted to use them in that particular narrative. And she recalled him mentioning a fourth but never by name. "I remember them." He acknowledged her reply with a noncommittal raise of his shoulder. "Good, then you have paid attention."
He picked up her hand and covered it between his. Moving his thumb over her exposed top knuckles. "This one of them was particularly impressive. Both in how she handled her sister's, but also me. She knew when to cower or when to come dangerously close." Arula was put off by how empty he sounded speaking of the unnamed woman.
"But eventually the performance of it all became taxing. Holding back my urge to treat her as poorly as the others when he lashed out from being spoiled with my attention. I gave her gifts, allowed her to sleep in my bed. But still when I watched her in environments she thought she was alone she showed no signs of missing me, or curiosity at when I would return. Only relief. I started to hate the feelings I created in myself for her. Along with the time and expenses put into making her comfortable and above the rest."
Arula knew comfort wasn't the same as love. But imagined it was difficult for the woman who came from some small planet to suddenly be altered and turned into a teenage boy's toy. And the frustration of never having love, and not knowing what it should look like while trying to emulate it. "It seems the situation was always meant to fail. You're too intelligent to really care for someone you know was manufactured to suit your moods."
"That's very perceptive of you. But I'm not surprised. You have the natural ease, it seems, when it comes to my moods. Or at the very least you're a quick enough learner to teach yourself the skill. But it's not her quality of affection or eventual inability to maintain my favor that I'm here to warn you of now Arula."
It only just now occurred to her this was a warning. "I was so angry with her. When it all ended up a waste. Nothing inside me wished to see her again, but rather I commanded her to be left to rot. Locked in the bedroom she loved so dearly surrounded by her trove of gifts and jewels, to starve drowning in my love." Her breathing hitched when he admitted her demise.
"But you," a finger curled under her chin turned her eyes back to his "you are not pretending to survive. And it's more dangerous for you that way. If you realize too late that I cannot stray far enough from myself to be the future you're picturing I won't be able to let you leave. No matter what promises I've made. Not if you really love me."
Something close to shame was in his words, but his blue eyes remained nearly empty. "The feeling of someone loving me isn't an experience I've had before. Or are likely to have again. It's a loyalty that most couldn't dream of in my position." Now Arula looked ashamed.
In a move she couldn't have anticipated he pulled her from her seat with both arms around her waist. Putting them almost nose to nose with her positioned to face him. "It's better that I know now and you've been... forward about it. If I figured it out on my own and believed you were keeping it from me, the urge to punish you would be too great. To make you miserable just to see if that secret love could last."
He ran his hand from her abdomen up her body, moving between her breasts to lay his palm over her collarbone. "It is very likely to cause you pain, even if it makes it somehow better for you to be here. Our run of luck will surely reach its end, but your unexpected development will likely be the make or break factor for when you finally see me at my worst."
Pulling their bodies closer as he leaned in. Feyd placed a kiss on the hollow of her neck, then followed a trail up to her chin with the tip of his nose. Resting it under her chin with a sigh. "I have something for you." Gathering some of her hair in his fist he encouraged a kiss she offered with relief.
"You don't have to start buying my... I don't need things to care about you." "Mmmm." Tightening his grip on her hips he began to stand. Forcing her to wrap her legs and arms around him to keep them stable. "Regardless, this particular adornment is... expected of your current position."
Butterflies moved in her stomach when she tried to imagine the gift. Not wanting to hope for anything to expect. But when they'd made their way at a causal pace back to the part of the ship containing their bedroom he set her on the end of the bed with welcomed ease. "Don't look."
She nodded and closed her eyes. Feeling her hands work themselves over one another in her lap while she tried to listen to his movements. Feyd opened the drawer next to his spot, something that usually meant the inclusion of something new, and potentially painful to that evening's sexual adventures. The idea made her walls clench without warning.
"I can feel you thinking about me inside you, sleeper." Rounded nostrils flared as she tried to suppress her never ceasing bloom of reaction to his direct attention. "And I can hear your breathing pick up as you think about the same Feyd."
Behind her the bed sunk from his weight and she heard a soft laugh come from him as he made his way slowly. Crawling up close and snaking an arm around her ribcage, grabbing on breast in his hand and pushing his nose over her cheek from the side. "Is that so?"
He guided her to her back, happy to see she kept her eyes closed as instructed. "Well then we are both well trained when it comes to our intimate needs." His fingers followed the space from her clavicle as far between her breasts as he could get before her sweetheart neckline stopped him.
"But, for now that's not why we're here. And unfortunately the urge to get this part over means there isn't nearly enough time to see those particular urges to their completion." Cupping the breast he'd not handled yet he leaned down and took the tip between his teeth, rolling it between her dresses fabric. "Yet."
Arula couldn't help letting her eyes pop open when he rolled them so she lay on top of his body. The two of them pressed flush from their knees to their chest. His expression when she found him looking back at her was a mix of heat, and something even more primal, which she wasn't willing to explore further in the moment.
"When I give this to you, if you accept it you're mine. Forever Arula." Gripping the back of her head in his hands his voice carried a depth she only heard when he addressed his men. "I cannot let you go now, not with... everything being so different than I expected."
Knowing filled her that trauma he would likely never voice or give her any real chance to understand made the loss of true unexpected devotion too impossible to accept. Placing either of her hands over his pecs, pushing herself up to look at him better while he adjusted his grip on her hair.
"This new world you've woken me in is much more dangerous than the one I left. Maybe for your people it's always been this... intense. But I grew up in a generally safe home until everything crumbled." Feyd lifted his knees and brought her closer to him. Arula used both her hands on either side of his head now to balance herself. "And that danger draws you nearer?"
Wavering her head slightly from side to side she made an unsure sound. "Or maybe you're what I know so it feels the safest. But, no part of me has ever had the notion to leave and see if things are better elsewhere. Even when you truly scared me more than my attraction could manage to balance."
Tracing the shape of his brow and cheek to one side she sighed. "There is also the matter of what I said to the council weeks ago. You are the only person in unfathomable lifetimes who tried to save me, you spent money I now realize you didn't really have to lose in order to bring me back from nothing. Even if it was part of a plan to have me in the long run, it's not being left to rot.
They remained in silence for a time. His gaze moved over her features as his fingers moved through her hair. Arula only watched and waited. Lifting her legs to wrap them around the back of his when he rolled them again landing on his knees between her legs.
Opening one palm he presented her with a ring. It was decently thick around the band. Flashes of fiery opals looked like they'd been sprinkled along the sides and bottom, meeting a large oval cut Rubie that still had an unpolished finish. Arula reached for it but froze, the weight of the moment setting in.
"You don't want it?" Feyd snarled the words and her fingers flew forward, picking up her gift. "Of course I want it." Her retort was more intense than she intended, almost shouted back at him. But he only relaxed his shoulders, still not smiling and took her hands back in his.
Sitting up so she was on her back with her thighs around his and he sat on his knees looking down. With the ring, which looked smaller between his fingers than hers, pinched between his thumb and forefinger he held her left hand and pushed the ring down till it was seated in the proper place.
Feyd looked from her hips to her face. Pacing his glance so he took in every inch of her body that he knew so well already. "You're mine now." Arula smiled with one of his hands closing around her throat. "Then I think it may be best if you push back your next meeting... Na-Baron."
His cock twitched against her leg. Not stopping her as she turned to her hands and shimmied up the bed. Instead crawling over top of her and keeping his eyes on her hand, now baring his ring. "I like when you call me Na-Baron, but I enjoy it much more when you can hardly say anything at all around your moaning."
Tugging her hips up until her back was flush against his chest. "Mine." His teeth in her neck was the first of many marks he'd leave that afternoon. Making sure there would be no doubt left that they were bound together.
Warnings: Expixitly Adult material 18+, kissing, PiV (unprotected), embodying the divine, orgasm.
A/N: Shout out to @dailydoseofaustinbutler, who has all the deets pinned for this challenge!
The masterlist for this challenge is here.
My big ol masterlist
Day 28 a grande gesture
Kit was like a wild thing, looking up at me from her back, eyes darkened and breath panting from her. Making a woman cum was one thing, but keeping them cumming was a master-level talent, and I knew my own worth.
She didnāt ask, didnāt say a word. She just pounced.Ā Sat up and kissed me and my dirty mouth like she was trying to transfer my skill to her own tongue.Ā By the time I realized I was on my back and she was straddling me, I think she could have managed it.
She pulled away from me nearly feral. The moonlight made her look even more so. She looked down between us at my dick then up at me in an unspoken query.
I just nodded, reluctant to break the nightās silence with more than our heavy breathing and the sound of our bodies. Fuck she was so damn hot and my dick was so damn hard. I didnāt want some kind of grand gesture, of quid pro quo, I just wanted to bury my cock in her, to lose myself in her pleasure.Ā
She either saw my need or had the same one. We both tipped my shaft up and she slathered my tip with her juices. Uncovered and blissfully bare, she slid down my length. Breath faltering in ecstasy for each of us with every inch.
Once I was fully inside her, time stopped. She reached for the sky and I for her waist. It seemed, from my vantage point, that she grasped the very moon itself and pulled its ethereal light down into the now sacred ground around us. The magic, because I donāt know what else to call it, vibrated into my bones. I had never felt such a thing ever before.Ā
Her hands landed on either side of my naked chest. Time restarted and so did we.Ā
Our bodies moved in perfect timing. It was like weād done this for years.Ā My abs tensed as I drove my cock into her. She groaned, tits bouncing as she snaked her hands over the well-earned ridges of my stomach. Her hair, jounced out of her hasty bun, flowed around both of us, glinting waves in the moonlight.Ā
She was a goddess above me. And to be clear, I wasnāt just a āthingā for her to use, I was her willing partner, her base, her support, her Shiva.Ā She worshipped me as I did her.Ā
Her deft fingers laced into my hair as she laid her chest to mine.Ā
āHarder, please,ā she murmured, tickling my lips with hers.Ā
I kissed her, wrapped my arms around her waist and did as requested. It was a full body exertion, thrusting up with my hips, pulling down with my arms. My abs ground against her clit with wet slaps.Ā
It occurred to me, that those hours in the gym made sense for more than magazine spreads.Ā
My balls thrummed, pleasure tightening in my thighs. I tried to hold it at bay, gritting my teeth. She felt so damn good, not just her hot, wet core, but all of her touching all of me. I nearly came right there, and if I had, Iād be damned if I wouldāve stopped before she was done.Ā I thought of the fucking assault bike. The āitāll be worth it- itāll pay offā mantra that I always chanted to myself when I was about to explode on that thing.Ā
It paid off, all of it.Ā
What started out as a low groan ended with her howling at the full moon like an animal unleashed. Her body writhed above me in orgasmic bliss and that is what undid me.Ā I let loose, like the only way to my orgasm was fucking her through hers. Grunting, sweating and groaning. The both of us made absurd faces and neither of us cared.Ā She glowed.Ā I swear it. Fuck I glowed as the circle of stones practically sang around us.
Typical(a day late): After an evening, marked by a particularly violent outburst from Feyd, he decides it's imperative for Arula to start understanding how life works outside their bedroom on a day today basis. It ends better for both of them than they thought it may.
Warnings: canon typical violence, Feyd's temper, teasing, aggressive oral male rec, DomFeyd, fingering, voyeurism, doggy style, p in v, rough handling, and oddly the closest to fluff I think i've gotten with Feyd on accident. Words: 4250
"Wake up." Hearing Feyd's voice from the wrong side of the bed was odd. He didn't make a point to say goodbye before he went to do his duty. Arula sat up.
Slowly still sore from the night before she lifted arms that were just starting to get their tone back above her head. Tipping back her head full of dark hair and letting out a small whine.
"Is something the matter?" She was certain he was angry at her. Changing his mind after the way he acted the night before. When they returned from a large blunder at their first truly public outing.
Still held only between members of the council and their direct entourage, it was the only time he brought her along to what he called "groveling parties." Where he disgusted himself by fitting in and smiling with his hated peers.
Each of them held contracts of silence so thick, it didn't matter what happened in front of them or who was brought along. Making her presence almost unimportant in the room. Or so she'd hoped.
Instead, she sat next to him in a nearly sheer dress with a high neckline and sleeves that pointed down to her center finger. More covered in fabric than a normal day. But her softly tan skin was just visible under the soft fabric.
The top was covered in constellations she didn't understand. Made of Harkonnen fire opals, soostones, and rubies; accented by dark black gems. Feyd wore a leather floor length skirt over his boots and an equally sheer form fitted turtleneck that gave them a similar look without clearly matching.
Everyone looked though. With some of her curves back, the tight dress looked better than she'd expected. Picked for her by Feyd and presented when they'd brought his clothes for the party to the room. The two gave off the appearance of a truly settled couple. One of his long arms wrapped around her waist, sitting just over the center of her crossed legs.
A couple hours after they took their seat on a stale smelling, lounge chair covered in textured thick fabric trouble struck. He was already on edge. Locking glared eyes on any man, daring enough to stare too long at his woman.
In a choice that surprised her, he did not stop her from engaging in conversation with those brave enough to ask her how she found herself. No one asked where she came from, or who exactly she was. Only mentioning the party itself, or the atmosphere in the room, the delicate bites going around on small plates.
For his part, he conversated with the people whose names sounded vaguely familiar. Recently, he'd started to explain what he'd been doing while he was away from her and these men were the faces to many of those names. Once she heard him speaking in a low, angry tone to an older man who failed again at breaching a meteor which particularly interested her companion.
Mostly she honestly enjoyed it. Never on earth was she treated like something or someone special. But because Feyd found her worthwhile, not only having her close but giving her comforts, everyone saw something in her now.
It was pleasant for him as well from what she could tell. Dropping hints very occasionally to his peers about her true value, and how enjoyable he found her. Nothing about it made her feel as much like an object as when he presented her like an artifact.
Feyd acted like a normal man expressing how pleased he was that this arrangement turned out in his favor. Making it clear she was completely of her own mind, and in his words full of fascinating wonders yet to unlock.
Yet everything went up in flames when a man she'd never met with blonde curls and green eyes caught her attention from across the room. Brazenly he didn't look away when she noticed him staring. But smiled bright and friendly.
Not used to seeing someone look so kind, she returned the smile. Feyd noticed in an instant, turning from his conversation.
"Who are you smiling for?" Shifting her attention quickly, surprised by his rough tone she gestured toward the man who had a very different smile now plastered across his face. Keeping his calm Feyd pulled her down so her ear was just in front of his lips. "Do not move."
Without giving her a moment to process his words, he then stood and moved in the direction of the man on the opposite side of the room. Stopping about twenty feet away. "Feeling brave today little Corrino?" It would turn out after the man was an illegitimate, but still semi accepted bastard of Corrino. Hated by most of the family.
"What a lovely prize you have, Feyd. Shame to see you've marked her up so badly." Her bedmates hiss sent chills down her spine. "Oh, she's not suffering little Leo. If that's your concern." Feyd moved closer, making a slightly curved path toward the younger gentleman.
For his part the latter shrugged. " Maybe she only thinks she isn't." He hardly finished the words when in less than four strides he was caught. Taken to his knees by the bald man yanking a handful of blonde coils back roughly and holding tight. "Say it again."
Arula let slip a gasp. Causing a momentary distraction that allowed Feyd's opponent to throw back an elbow, catching him in the bottom of his eye while trying to break loose. But the plan failed. "Not fast enough to cover your mouth, brat."
Shrieking spilled from Corrino's bastard. A blade noone saw Feyd holding sliced through his hair, taking to the scalp and leaving red angry skin in its wake. " Think twice next time, you make a show of yourself. Idiot."
Letting the man hit his hands and knees to crawl away he only looked to Arula and nodded to the door. She was up and heading in his direction instantaneously.
"Enough for tonight. We go home." Slipping her palm over his and walking out slowly just a step behind him she felt her heartbeat in her throat. But the eerie silence between them lasted the entire ride home.
Still sat perched in his lap as he ran his fingers over the jeweled designs on her legs. Arula tried more than once to start a conversation, but he only placed his thumb over her lips and shook his head.
Entering their bedroom, apologies immediately began to spill from her. "No." He immediately turned to face her with a stern face and narrow eyes. " You are not aware enough of social rules at play. It was as much my error as yours."
Taking in his unexpected response, her brown eyes were locked on him when he started to undress. While he lacked the usual sexual hunger in his movements, she wondered if it would manifest.
"The boy thought he could make a splash by tempting what I covet. Or appearing to others brave enough to give it a chance." Listening, she found herself distracted by the way the bubbly alcohol at the party had made her feel warm. And that warmth was spreading in her gut as he tugged his black top out of his skirt and then over his body.
Revealing the impossibly pale statue like skin below. " He knows his boundary now, and he's far from the first to think my draw with the Atreides fool makes me any less a threat now." While she heard every word, she forgot to give any sign of understanding.
Concentrating on the top of his bottoms pushing over skin tight briefs. Round bottom coming into sight a little at a time. "Arula?" Feyd sounded amused with her.
She snapped her eyes to his with a deep crimson starting to coat her cheeks. "Iā¦ I understand." Smiling softly, like he did when he tried to hide a laugh. " This is the first time we've found ourselves in this particular position, is it not?"
Understanding he meant she was the one with clearly lustful thoughts while he seemed otherwise distracted her shoulders wilted. " It's been a challenging night." Somehow she was caught off guard by her disappointment.
He tilted his head to the right for a pause, looking her over from top to toe. "I still hold plenty of unused rage at the boy." Turning away he walked to a metal cabinet near the bathroom door. "It would be, unfortunate, for you to take any excessive handling personally."
With two towels in his hands, he gestured to the bathroom door. "Perhaps we should let the shower batter down my temper a while. Then, I will see both of our needs thoroughly met."
He was taking confident steps in her direction. Not reaching for her, but standing a few feet away, waiting. Arula did what she could to push down the flood of emotions filling her.
More and more since she'd made her reservations about his real interest in her clear; he'd made sure any marks or violence were seen purely as examples of his unending well of need for her to fall apart on his length. And not from any type of distaste for her.
This was the first time he was making a verbal effort to communicate the change. "That sounds good Feyd." With a deep breath, she took his elbow and they made their way to the shower.
Spending plenty of time under the hot stream. Both of them particularly enjoyed it when he washed her hair. She'd seen him watching with interest several times and made the offer almost with embarrassment. But he jumped on the chance right away. When they finished he took her in bed until she couldn't keep her eyes open.
That morning, he sat on the edge of the mattress. Looking surprisingly serious. " Last night held many purposes, pretty sleeper. It is imperative for you to remember there is an ability within me to keep the worst of my anger from you. It will do you well today."
Suddenly concerned that she'd forgotten something she shrugged in confusion. "Where are we going?" He pulled her nearly on his lap. " You're going to see what I do during my day. Truly experience what's on my plate on my most boring work day. So you begin to understand why you will be so crucial to my plans. Blinking away the last of her surprise, she nodded. "Okay."
It turned out to be for the best that he spent the previous evening demonstrating his ability to separate his anger from her treatment. Before they even made their way to the docking bay she saw how their time would likely go.
She wore an all black dress with flowing sheer sleeves down to her elbows. It had a soft bodice under the bust that accentuated her growing figure. And a square neckline, giving her a regal appearance. Feyd wore a long-sleeved, soft leather tee with black military pants. Not needing help from his wardrobe to appear confident.
A servant who clearly was not paying attention when he approached asked if the "Ancient woman" needed tending to that day. In reply he got his face smashed off the metal wall to his left. Immediately after Feyd took the same hand used to maim the man and grabbed Arula's hips. Bringing her in close with no words.
In a meeting with several military leaders, one man mistook a long term working relationship for friendship. Making a joke that didn't land. "Oh, I see this toy is kept much prettier than the last ones. Shocked to see her so calm with you considering the sounds coming out of that room at night."
Sitting in a large chair that was on a spinning lift Feyd opened a hand in her direction with no words. Calling her from the wall she was trying to hide against. His commander could have no way of knowing she knew what he was saying. It was made clear that her skill level was need to know and Feyd didn't think his commandos were in need. "She is something beautiful to behold isn't she?"
He flattened her skirt out over her legs, tucking the edge of it over the top of her knees and leaving his hand flat across the tops of both. "Tell me, is it your distraction with my fiance, that has made you incapable of success in your only current mission?"
Despite the sound of his voice being smooth and soft as butter, it was clear by the sweat immediately gracing the older man's brow, he was in trouble. "I, we are only trying to find the best way to land without losing soldiers upon dropping." Feyd was unsympathetic to the man's plight.
"Yet others have bested meteors and space debris with much harder challenges to them." His slender white fingers moved through the bottom of her dark hair behind her back. Twisting the strands that fell loose over her shoulders out of slight, where her back to the door hid them from his men's eyes.
"I think it's high time you're reminded others are doing much harder work." With a glance to the man's direct lower Feyd gestured to have the perceived failure removed from the room. "Take him to the mines. He can work his way back up if he has the grit. Then come back and tell me how you'll do his job better."
Another meeting followed the previous. This time they made their way to an area of the ship she'd never seen. "These were my Uncle's rooms. Now they're converted to silent studies for my historians. Ten hours a day they transcribe whatever they're able from video, photo, jewels, letters, anything. You'll work with them eventually."
A hand placed firmly on the middle of her lower back. He ignored the men who watched each step they took around the perimeter of the giant rooms. Three of them connected by a large center room with boxes of unopened findings, all seemingly connected by open doors. "Once you're... more stable in your position. You'll assist where you can, or serve as a bridge for things that make little sense without context."
It surprised her to find out she would have a position as more than a trophy. "I enjoy history, I think I'll like this very much." Feyd looked down at her, seeming surprised. But his voice held no emotion. "Good. That's convenient."
After pacing each room and giving her the time to look at what every man meticulously guarded on his workstation, he walked her to a large desk at the center of the largest room. "This is the inventory so far." Opening blackbound book. She found items and dates with assumed places of origin on a neat list
Some she knew. Cameras, old technology, historical texts. Surprisingly there were items which had been held as treasures since long before the time of her people or their direct ancestors. Lifting a black and white image, what she found in it took her breath away.
Three statues made of black stone, looking to be the size of a small handheld bottle. All black, carved carefully to represent important figures. "Nephthys, a funeral goddess of ancient Egypt. And her sister Isis." The third, a statue set slightly aside from the first two a little larger and carved of pale stone.
While the darker women were in human form, wearing a basket or a sun disc on their head to give away their origin, Arula found herself digging through long forgotten memories of childhood picture books about the past. Trying to remember which goddess took the form of a lioness. "Sekhmet. The first two are sisters. In simple terms, they represent life and death."
Feyd came in close behind her. Placing a hand palm down, fingers open on the desk to either side of her. Leaning down till she could feel his breath on her neck. Oddly interested in her lesson. "But this one, she's the goddess of war." He grinned against her cheek.
"How clever you are. How do you know them?" Lifting one hand he placed it in the centre of her abdomen, flattening her back to his chest so she could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against her bottom. She swallowed hard. Taking a breath so she could concentrate.
"I liked mythology as a child. A lot of it, the gods and goddesses of the ancient world, Minoans, Romans, Sumerians, they were sort of mixed up by most. All it thrown into a week of simple lessons more as stories than real history lessons. But they achieved feats science still couldn't completely comprehend by the time we'd wasted the last of earth."
Trying to keep her words steady, she ignored the feeling of him grinding his bulge softly against her butt as she spoke. "I knew you'd make me happy today, you've done so well already." Her breath hitched when he lifted her black skirt over her hips. "Feyd..." she looked around the room for the historians she knew were working nearby.
"They wouldn't dare look. Let me be proud of you." Lifted her by the hips until her hands reached forward to take the top of the desk in her fingertips. "Good girl. Stay there." He walked away for a moment and she could feel her skin turning blush realizing she was on display.
Bottom cheeks not covered by the thin lace thong he'd picked for her that morning. At the time she should have known it was for a reason. "Don't move, sleeper. I'm hoping we can both enjoy ourselves."
She dangled just above the ground. Toes almost unable to keep her legs stable. Trying to adjust her hand so her grip on the desk was better she rolled her tummy over the opposite edge. Causing her bottom to rise in the air, cheeks lifted and separated just enough to show the string covering her hole.
"Well now, this is a nice surprise." With an uncomfortable sound, she twisted to try and see over her shoulder. He approached holding something in one fist. A harsh thud clacked off the wood when the stone hit the desk next to one of her wrists. It was the sandstone statue of The War Goddess.
"Did people believe in these artifacts?" Too stunned by the sight of the treasure to really hear him she only gasped. "You have the real thing?" A smug chuff followed him around the table. Ending when he was completely in front of her now. "I have several. Humans found no need to save others during the breakdown."
Reaching over the length of her he extended his arm till it wrapped around and his fingers found her slit. Stroking slowly up and down, with her clit being his starting point. "But they saved plenty of old junk."
There was an urge to correct him, but at the same time she couldn't ignore his still clothed cock almost smashed to her face. Or his fingers, stoking the moisture between her folds. "That's incredible Feyd." His name came out on a hitch, when his middle fingers circled her nub quickly. "I'll assume you mean how I'm handling you."
Pushing his hips even more forward. He made it impossible to miss what he wanted. But when she tried to let go of the table and undo his pants, he slammed her wrists back down. "No." Letting them go immediately. Feyd held her back down with one hand and went back to toying with her with the other.
"You've been so quiet today. All I've been able to do is stare at the way those lips pouted and moved between your teeth when you gnawed them. Put them to better use."
It seemed impossible but even with his fingers now pushing just the first couple inches in and out every few brushes of her clit, she managed to pinch the top corner of the thick fabric between her teeth and tug until the button popped.
"Mmmmm, we should have played this game earlier." Trying not to internalize that this was likely as close as they'd gotten to having a playful moment, she closed her front teeth over his black metal zipper. Losing it halfway down the fly when he pushed his fingers all the way to the base and swirled them inside her clenching walls.
"Hurry now Arula, don't make the game turn." After another couple of moments, she had his fly open. And he wasted no time in assisting her by pushing his pants down till they went past his knees.
"Open." He pinched her nose until she could do nothing but open wide, then pushed himself to the back of her throat. "You know... I've never much cared for other mouths..." he thrust forward, knowing she was unable to do much to meet him because of her awkward stretch over the table. She groaned around the thick invading cock.
Folds tightening around the three fingers he was pumping in her throbbing opening. He kept her mouth full. Pumping drool down her chin and out her nose. Meanwhile never letting up on her pussy, causing her legs to lift from the ground and bend at the knee.
"How pretty you fold for me." With a harsh jerk forward, he pushed himself past the back of her throat. She could feel her airway closing around the tip of his member. The world went hazy until he pulled back quickly. A long string of drool falling from her mouth to follow his cock.
Lifting her face by the chin he smirked. "My lovely wife." She couldn't speak, only trying to regain her breath. Keeping her eyes on him as he made his way back around the table. "Don't hold back on account of company dear, I'm so eager to hear you beg for me."
He pushed her hips till her thighs were flushed to the table. Only her big toe could reach the ground. Taking each of her ankles, he made her legs flushed together and then squeezed either side of her knees in silent request for her to stay. Forehead pressed to the dark wooden table she agreed without needing to speak.
No time needed to further prepare herself for him, he pushed his tip past her swollen lips and deep through her core. Stopped only when his pelvic bone was locked tight to her asscheeks. "You feel like you were fitted to my cock sleeper, have I ever told you that?"
In an effort to keep him aware that she was an enthusiastic participant she replied more candidly than usual. "I've had similar thoughts about you." The somewhat shy, but forward admission made him chuckle. "How sweet."
He said nothing else, simply pulled back and began to take her so intensely her fingers turned white holding the edge of the desk. Pulling out almost to the very tip before thrusting forward in quick succession. Belly deep moans pouring from her with every stroke back.
The legs of the sturdy wooden furniture shook beneath. Sliding every so often so her toes brushed across the floor a quarter inch. But he wouldn't let her get away. Following her with vigor.
His cock leaked thick pre-spend and she could feel their juices dripping down her leg after little time. Moving his hands from her hips to her shoulders, he started to tug her body back into each thrust. Pounding against the back wall of her core.
Eyes watering she felt her legs and walls start to tense and flutter. "Oh fuck..." Feyd only grunted like a stallion in motion. Pushing his seed deep inside when he filled her core just as her orgasm peaked. Arula's eyes rolled back, everything speckled white for a moment.
Then he felt him correcting her skirt behind her. Panties tugged up with no effort made to clean the mess from her legs. "A stunning performance dearest, I believe this afternoon has gone better than either of us hoped for."
Standing and trying to keep herself steady on still wobbly legs, she leaned in willingly when he wrapped arms around her waist. "Thank you, for showing me your day, and for..." he made a sound similar to cooing when she lost her words and brushed his nose over her temple.
"It is odd for me to imagine having a typical marriage." His hands still roamed over her body over her dress, cupping her lower cheeks and squeezing fistfuls of meat. "But, if you continue to be so unexpectedly intelligent..." a hand moved up her side to gently cup her throat rubbing his thumb over her pulse, the way he did when he was being rarely soft.
"Then perhaps we will grow to find one another decent company." Turning her in his arms he faced her toward the historians. Now making their way to them.
The afternoon finished simply enough. Each old man spendt an hour or so divulging their discoveries, fascinated by her input. All the while Feyd pet her rather affectionately. Not holding his pride back in the least.
When that evening found them in bed and he was asleep with his cheek on her stomach. Closed eyes facing her so she could study his delicately angelic features, Arula realized for the first time, she cared for Feyd. And suddenly their future was much more complicated.
Warnings: Explicitly Adult material 18+, more cunnilingus, fingering and orgasm.
A/N: Shout out to @dailydoseofaustinbutler, who has all the deets pinned for this challenge!
The masterlist for this challenge is here.
My big ol masterlist
I knew it was coming, how could I not? He had taken his time to work me over so thoroughly. Heād put everything he had into it. When he touched my clit, my aching needy clit, I gasped, air whooshing between my teeth. My pussy walls clenched and an orgasmic wave nearly washed over me.Ā It was all I could do to keep standing. My knees would have buckled out from under me if not for my grip on the rock behind him. Thank the Fae for that stone or I would have hurt both of us.Ā
I blurted out the only word I could manage and he acquiesced immediately. His hands tightened around my hips offering support. I looked down trying to smile through my slight huffing. Then I saw his face: a portrait of a puppy who thought he was in trouble but had no idea why.Ā
Shit.Ā
āGuess who nearly fell on you and broke your neck, fuck you are so good Austin.ā I stepped back and let my legs give, melting to the ground.Ā
He exhaled, visibly relieved as he assisted me.Ā
āOh thank god, I thought Iād hurt you,ā he said quickly.
āNot at all, fuck I was so close, Can you pleaseā¦,ā I lay back, widening my legs and shifting my hips in blatant invitation.Ā
āYes maāam,ā he said with just a hint of southern drawl. His full bottom lip caught between his teeth as he descended between my legs. This is how good he was, he didnāt just back in at the same intensity. N. He sucked and grazed my inner thigh with his teeth as he settled. He traced my labia with his tongue.Ā He pressed inward to taste me lightly,Ā then more, nestling his face between my legs and his tongue searching deep inside me, well, deep for a tongue. Somehow he still didnāt brush my clit until he lapped up teasing it again. My hips tried to chase his face as he chuckled softly.Ā
I loved the play, the cat and mouse, the teasing of it all. He was good, like a man that studied and practiced good. What a lucky girl I was tonight.Ā
He pried my wet lips apart with his fingers once more and I waited for the tip of his tongue. Instead he blew a soft stream of air onto my heat. The difference of sensation made me clench again, though not as strong as last time. Then he touched me, over and over again with tiny little licks. It drove me wild. And when most men would give in and start sucking, he didnāt. He kept amping me up with the smallest of changes, more surface area, more pressure, nibbling lips. It was clear that this was not just a means to an end for him. He was eating me out with the purpose of just that: eating me out, giving me pleasure. And it was just as clear that he was enjoying the hell out of it.Ā
It snuck up on me as I was just letting the sensations pour over me, enjoying each moment for what it was. My back arched, my fists filled with the blanket and I came, cresting on his tongue.
Then he did something fucking genius. In the scarce moments between peaking and coming down, he slid his long fucking fingers inside me. I swear I saw stars as he curled them gently into the spongy tissue behind my pubic bone. He was unhurried, didnāt āfingerā me into oblivion. He pulsed, rocking back and forth, keeping me high for a minute, maybe two. When his mouth closed softly on my clit for the first time, I came right onto his fingers and into his mouth. The stones groaned back at me, reflecting my voice.
Why was it fucking genius? Because he built me up slow, didnāt burn out my clit trying to force my orgasm, and most of all I fucking wanted him inside me.Ā No, I needed it. Iād never had two orgasms be a mere tease before.Ā
Summary: In which she "bewitches" him and he finds himself between her legs (His POV)
Warnings: Explicitly Adult material 18+, Cunnilingus
A/N: Shout out to @dailydoseofaustinbutler, who has all the deets pinned for this challenge!
The masterlist for this challenge is here.
My big ol masterlist
Fuck. Me.Ā
Ok, but weāll get to that.Ā
It only took her a minute, maybe two before she was grinding into my hand. It wasnāt lost on me that she was inches from my hard dick.Ā Yes I was the one who had stopped her using me, riding me, and yes there was a part of me that regretted it.
But she wasnāt the least bit embarrassed to let her sexual nature take front and center. Iād had typical women who ātook controlā who demanded things of me, albeit things I was usually comfortable giving. And Iād had partners that were just sorta there and let me guess what they wanted, expecting me to rock their world without communication, verbal or non. Had they considered what it would take to rock mine? Usually no.Ā And since I had gained more notoriety, I had had beautiful women throwing themselves at me, fawning blatantly. I would lie if I said Iād not taken some of them up on it. After my years of relationships I needed to play, to see what was out there and what I really wanted. I had some good times with good people, yes. I also fell into some traps, I had some soulless blowjobs and behind closeted doors shame-filled sex. I knew what I wanted now and was just biding my time until I found it.
But Kit? She was in it as though sexual pleasure was a foregone conclusion for us both and how we got there depended solely on the moment. Everything about her screamed we were equals, just people enjoying one another. This was joyous pleasure. She didnāt act as though she were owed an orgasm āor elseā. She just let her body lead, let it experience mine without letting guilt into her headspace. It took a great deal of trust in herself and in her partner. And there was no wondering if she was āliking itā, her every breath was a message, each twitch of her muscles and sign. And my god it was good.Ā
āAustin,ā she breathed. I thought she was going to say more, but instead she was shimmying out of her pants and underwear.
She stood silvery naked above me, tattooed across one hip with swirling lines and curliques that extended onto the roundness of her ass. She was magical, and it wasnāt the moonlight.Ā
Usually I would ask all kinds of permission for every step and I suppose I kinda did when I sat up and kissed her bare thigh. But I was positively dumbstruck by her very presence.Ā
After that, I donāt really know what came over me. The next thing I knew my pants were a pile beside me and I was sitting cross legged between her wide spread legs, lapping at her seam.Ā
My dick was bouncing heavy against my stomach with each movement.Ā
āFuck, your tongue feels like magic, where did you learnā¦ No, I donāt care. Just please donāt stop,ā she murmured in between moans of pleasure.Ā
I grinned against her wetness, I had only just begun.Ā I loved it, pussy in my mouth.Ā I had made an indepth study of cunnilingus once upon a time. It had done nothing but serve me well.Ā
I wanted to take bets on how long it would be before she begged to have me inside her.Ā I loved to edge my partners. Getting them so close, close enough to realize that I know exactly what I am doing.Ā Ā
My head tilted back, feasting everywhere, her lips, her mons, dipping into her opening. Everywhere but her clit. That I was saving.Ā
You see, most men are simple creatures at heart. If we learn about the clit and if we are lucky enough to find it and figure out what it does, we initially treat it like a joy buzzer. Push button, receive orgasm. Itās not our fault, truly. It's just the way we are built. Stroke cock, get cum.Ā Ugh grunt. We donāt know what we know until we seek to be better. Some of us do, in fact, seek.Ā
But women, women have so much more going on upstairs during sex. Sometimes you have to sneak up on the clit; tease, flirt. Pause all other thought while you usher them to the brink and back again until all thought is small compared to the rush just over the edge. Some are harder to coax than others.
What I was loving about Kit specifically was that she eagerly let me lead, but wasnāt submissive about it. She played beautifully into my hands, following my trail of crumbs and let me worship her. Her pleasure woven intrinsically with mine. Because have I said how much I love to make a woman cum?
And her noises! Oh my god the noises she was making. Little whining moans, low chuffs begging for just the right spot and the groans of pleasure when I did just that right thing, just that perfect spot with perfect pressure. There was no mistaking and no faking.Ā
Her juices ran down my chin as I ate her out. Her descent into pleasure gave permission for my own.Ā It was all heightened by the thrum of the stones around us.Ā
I thumbed her lips apart, exposing her clit to the cool night air.Ā With the tiniest tip of my tongue I touched her. Just barely. Her reaction was palpable. That alone made her white knuckle the stone I was leaning against and suck air in through her teeth. I grinned internally, she was gonna explode on me.Ā
āStop,ā she shuddered out, sounding as if I had hurt her.Ā
The words rocked me, I sank. Had I misread every cue? Every moan?Ā
The words āIām so sorryā were on the tip of my tongue even though I had no clue what I had done wrong.Ā
She should have looked away. Any decent person would have looked away. She didnāt, and the universe made her pay for it.
Word Count: 3.8k
Authorās Note:
FYI: Hankās naked swimming and the cigarettes in his ears are not my invention ā theyāre straight from Charlie Hustonās Six Bad Things. I couldnāt make that up if I tried.
Masterlist
@dailydoseofaustinbutler
I want to be clear about something: the sea urchin was not my fault.
I mean, technically I stepped on it. And technically I wasnāt looking where I was going. And technically the reason I wasnāt looking where I was going was because I was watching a naked man walk out of the ocean. But the point is, the sea urchin didnāt have to be there. It chose to be there. It made a decision. And I think thatās important context for everything that came after.
But Iām getting ahead of myself.
āø»
Weād been in Tulum a few days. Carly already had sunburn and RoisĆn had adopted two lads from Galway on night one that were now a permanent feature, like furniture you didnāt order that showed up anyway.
One morning the three of us went for a walk along the coast. Past the busy stretch with the bars and the loungers and the men selling bracelets, into the quieter part where the bungalows sit back from the beach in the scrub and the sand goes white and the only sound is the water. It was gorgeous. The kind of quiet that makes your shoulders drop.
I noticed, as we walked past one of the bungalows, a man sitting on the porch. Shirtless, very still, with something on either side of his head ā something small and glowing, thin lines of smoke rising past his temples. At that distance I couldnāt make it out. I was walking, not staring, and Carly was talking about one of the Galway lads and whether he had a girlfriend and what RoisĆn thought his friendās deal was, and the bungalow went past and I forgot about it. Mostly. The beach I remembered ā how quiet it was, how still. I thought: I should come back here before we go home.
A couple of days later, early evening, the sun starting to drop. Carly and RoisĆn were getting ready for another night out and I wasnāt feeling it. Iād had a good time. I had. Iād done the margaritas, done the dancing, done the staying out until four and waking up at noon and eating tacos in sunglasses feeling like Iād been reassembled wrong. But constant noise and constant people and constant fun was starting to make me feel like a phone thatās been left on vibrate too long. I just needed an hour where nobody asked me if I wanted a shot.
āIām going for a walk,ā I said. āIāll meet you at the bar.ā
I walked south along the shore with my sandals in one hand and the sand warm under my feet and the sky doing that thing it does here where it turns six colours at once, and I walked until the noise faded and the coast opened up into that quiet stretch and I felt my shoulders drop again and I thought: there. Thatās better.
Iād been walking for a while when I saw him.
He was coming out of the sea. Tall and tanned the kind of brown that comes from more than a couple of weeks. Blonde hair pushed back, water running off him. All of him. Because he was naked. Not oh, I think he might be naked. Naked. The full uncut directorās edition. Walking out of the Caribbean Sea like your man from a Bond film if the Bond film had lost its entire costume budget.
He hadnāt seen me. He was maybe thirty feet away, wading through the shallows, and I was walking along the waterline, and I should have looked away. Any decent person would have looked away. Iād like to tell you I looked away.
I didnāt look away. I kept walking and I kept looking and because I was looking at him and not at the ground, I put my bare foot directly onto a sea urchin.
The noise I made is not something Iām prepared to describe. I went down on the wet sand and grabbed my foot and there were black spines sticking out of the sole ā five, six of them ā and the pain was unbelievable, searing, the kind that makes your vision go white, and I was sitting there with tears pouring down my face thinking this is what I get, this is divine punishment for being a pervert when I heard splashing.
I looked up. He was running toward me through the shallows. Still naked. Arms pumping. Everything pumping.
He crouched in front of me and his face was all concern ā āAre you okay? What happened?ā ā and his hands were reaching for my foot and I was in enough pain that the naked thing was maybe third or fourth on my list of concerns but it was still on the list, and I think my face did something because he stopped and looked down at himself and there was a moment ā a single, terrible moment ā where we made eye contact and he was naked and I was crying and neither of us knew what to do about any of it.
He stood up. āDonāt ā hold on. Donāt go anywhere.ā
āI have spines in my foot. Iām not going anywhere.ā
He went to a spot up the beach where a sarong was laid out on the sand, and I watched him wrap it around his waist with the urgency of a man defusing a bomb. He fumbled the knot. Tried again. Got it on the third attempt, too tight, sitting at an odd angle on his hips, and came back and crouched in front of me again and the tips of his ears were red.
āSea urchin,ā he said, taking my foot. His voice was slightly off ā a fraction too loud, like he was compensating for something. He turned my foot, looking at the spines. āDonāt try to pull them out. They snap off and then youāve got bigger problems.ā
He sat back on his heels. āIāve got tweezers at the house. Vinegar. I can get them out.ā He nodded toward the bungalow up the beach. āCan you hop?ā
So. To summarise: I had been staring at a naked stranger on a public beach. God had punished me with a sea urchin. And now the naked stranger, who was no longer naked but was wearing a badly-tied sarong and couldnāt quite hear properly, was going to take me to his house and pull spines out of my foot. This was my evening.
He got me up ā my arm over his shoulders, which were damp and solid and smelled like salt ā and we hobbled up the beach. It was not elegant. At one point the sarong slipped and he grabbed it with his free hand and I was trying so hard not to look anywhere below his collarbones that I was essentially staring at the sky, which made the hopping worse.
āIām Hank,ā he said, halfway up the beach, like it had just occurred to him that we hadnāt done this part.
āCaoimhe.ā
He slowed down. āSorry ā what was that?ā
āCaoimhe.ā
He frowned. Tilted his head, the way heād been doing. āIs that ā am I hearing that right? Kee-va?ā
āCaoimhe. Yeah.ā
āOkay,ā he said, in the voice of a man who was absolutely not sure but had decided to move on.
His porch. Two chairs. He lowered me into the canvas one and a cat appeared from inside ā a big brown tabby, longhaired, absurdly fluffy for the tropics. It sat and stared at me with an expression that wasnāt quite hello and wasnāt quite explain yourself but was somewhere in between.
āCareful with him,ā Hank said, heading inside. āHeās a biter.ā
āGrand,ā I said.
He leaned back through the doorway, tilting his head slightly toward me. āIs that ā does that mean okay?ā
āIt means okay.ā
āRight. Grand.ā I heard him opening drawers, running water. He came back with a basin, vinegar, tweezers, a towel, and crouched in front of me. The whole thing had the feeling of a man whoād done this before ā not the pulling-spines-from-a-strangerās-foot part, but the sea urchin part, the vinegar and the tweezers and the routine of it.
āVinegar dissolves the tips,ā he said, pouring it in. āSoak it first. Itāll sting.ā
It did. Like putting a paper cut in lemon juice, but across my entire foot. I gripped the arm of the chair and made a face and he waited, watching, until I nodded.
He picked up the tweezers. āIāll be as quick as I can.ā
He wasnāt quick. He was precise, which isnāt the same thing. Heād grip a spine close to the base, pause, then pull ā smooth, steady, one motion. Each time there was a beat of bright sharp pain and each time I flinched and each time he said āsorryā ā too loud, guessing at his own volume. The first two were bad. By the third Iād figured out that watching his hands was better than thinking about the pain ā the steadiness of them, the patience, the way his face went completely focused like nothing else existed except the point of the tweezers.
āYou do this a lot?ā I asked.
āTo myself. Once. It wasnāt fun.ā He pulled the fourth. āYouāre handling it better than I did.ā
āWhat did you do?ā
āIād rather not say.ā
āThat bad?ā
āThere was swearing. There may have been tears. Nobody was there so itās unconfirmed.ā He glanced up, just for a second, and his mouth did something that was almost a smile and I felt it land somewhere below my ribs. āWhat are you doing in Tulum?ā
āHoliday. With my friends.ā
āWhere are they?ā
āGetting ready to go out.ā
āAnd youāre here.ā
āIām here.ā
āOn a quiet beach. Getting sea urchin spines pulled out by a stranger.ā He pulled the fifth. āSolid evening.ā
I laughed. It hurt my foot and I didnāt care. āIt wasnāt the plan.ā
āWhat was the plan?ā
āWalk. Quiet. Not step on anything.ā
āTwo out of three.ā He sat back. āThatās six. I think thatās all of them but thereāll be fragments ā little bits of spine that break off under the skin. Theyāll work themselves out. Soak it again.ā
I put my foot back in the basin. The cat had jumped onto the wicker chair and was curled up watching us with one eye half-closed.
āWhatās his name?ā I asked.
āBud.ā
āHeās gorgeous.ā
āHe knows it. Donāt tell him, itāll go to his head.ā He stood up, rolled his shoulders, and tilted his head ā pressing behind his ear, the same small frustrated movement heād been doing all evening.
āAre your ears okay?ā I asked.
āYeah.ā He rubbed the back of his neck. āNarrow canals. The water gets in and it doesnāt come out. I have to clear them every few days and I havenāt done it since āā He stopped, looking uncomfortable. āI have to do a thing. And youāre going to have questions and Iād prefer if you didnāt ask them.ā
He went inside and came back with a pack of Benson & Hedges and two towels.
I sat up.
Because I knew. I knew before he sat down, before he draped the towels over his shoulders, before he shook two cigarettes from the pack. Iād seen this ā a few days ago, from the beach, the man on the porch with something glowing in his ears, the thin lines of smoke. I hadnāt been able to work it out from that distance. Now I was about to see it up close.
He lit the first cigarette. Put it in his left ear. Lit the second. Right ear.
He sat back and looked at the ocean.
Two lit cigarettes sticking out of his head. Smoke curling up past his temples. Ash starting to form on the towels on his shoulders. He sat very still, jaw set, the posture of a man who knew exactly how he looked and had decided, a long time ago, to get on with it anyway.
āRight,ā I said.
āDonāt.ā
āIām not.ā
āYou want to.ā
āI want to so badly.ā
āA doctor down here told me to do this. He charged me a thousand pesos for the information, but it works. The heat creates a vacuum and pulls the water out into the filter. Itās science. Iām telling you this so you know Iām not insane.ā
āOkay.ā
āOkay.ā
Ash drifted down onto his left shoulder. Bud was asleep in the wicker chair with one paw hanging off the edge. The sky had gone dark and the stars were coming out and I was sitting on a strangerās porch with my foot in a basin of vinegar and he had two lit cigarettes in his ears and somewhere behind me Carly and RoisĆn were doing shots and probably wondering where I was and this was, without competition, the most surreal evening of my life.
I started laughing.
I tried not to. I bit my cheek and pressed my lips together and held it for about four seconds and then it came out ā a laugh that started in my stomach and I couldnāt stop it, the kind of laugh that feeds itself, the more I tried to hold it the worse it got.
Hank sat there with cigarettes in his ears and waited.
āAre you done?ā he said, when Iād calmed down.
āI think so.ā
āSure?ā
āNo.ā
āTake your time.ā
I pressed my hands over my face. Breathed. Got it together. Mostly.
āSorry,ā I said.
āDonāt be. I mean, nobodyās actually watched me do this before. But I always figured if anyone did, this is how it would go.ā
Something about the way he said it ā matter-of-factly, no weight on it ā made me stop laughing. Not because it wasnāt funny. Because underneath the funny there was something else. The towels on the shoulders. The ashtray already there. The routine of it. However long heād been doing this, heād been doing it alone.
āTell me something,ā he said. āWhile these burn.ā
āLike what?ā
āWhere are you from?ā
āDunfanaghy. But I live in London now.ā
He turned his head just enough to squint at me. The cigarettes wobbled. āIām going to need you to say that again.ā
āDunfanaghy. Itās in Donegal.ā
āIs Donegal a place or are you just making sounds?ā
āItās in Ireland.ā
āOkay. Ireland I can work with. Ireland Iāve heard of. Dun-fuh āā
āDunfanaghy.ā
āDun-fuh-NAG-ee?ā
āNot even close.ā
āDun-FANN-a-hee?ā
I bit my lip. āWorse.ā
āIāll get there.ā He said it like he meant it. āTell me about it.ā
So I talked and he listened with cigarettes in his ears and the dark coming in around us and Bud asleep in his chair. I told him about the harbour and Killahoey Beach and the light in winter and how everyone knows everyone and that my mam still tells people Iām only in London for now as though seven years is temporary. I told him about my flatmates and working at the gallery and how sometimes on the Tube Iād get a wave of missing home so sharp it felt physical, like someone had squeezed my ribs.
He was quiet for a moment after that. Not the comfortable quiet from before ā something different. Something still. āYeah,ā he said, eventually. Soft. āI get that.ā
I told him about Carly and RoisĆn, how theyād been my best friends since school and how I loved them and how days of nonstop socialising had made me feel like Iād been put through a mangle. He leaned toward me sometimes when my voice dropped, catching the words, and when he caught them heād nod or his mouth would move and I liked being listened to like that. Like hearing me was something he was choosing to work at.
He didnāt tell me much. Heād been here a few years. He brought Bud with him. He swam every morning and every evening. The spaces around what he said were deliberate, and I understood that whatever had brought him to this porch was his business and not mine. Heād pulled six sea urchin spines out of my foot. That was enough to know about a person for one night.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, Bud stood up, stepped across from the wicker chair, and climbed onto my lap.
I went still. He was heavy ā heavier than he looked ā and warm, and he turned once and lay down and started purring so loudly it was almost aggressive, like he was making a point.
Hank was staring at his cat like it had just spoken.
āHe doesnāt do that,ā he said.
āHeās doing it.ā
āHe bites everyone except me. Heās never sat on another person. Not once.ā
Bud purred harder. I put my hand on his back and he pushed into it.
āWhat did you do to my cat?ā Hank said.
āNothing.ā
āYou must have done something.ā
āIām sitting in your chair with my foot in a basin. I havenāt done anything.ā
He looked at me ā properly looked, not a glance, not quick ā and I looked at him, and he had cigarettes in his ears and I had his cat on my lap and this was the strangest thing that had ever happened to me and I could feel something in the space between us, something that wasnāt the comedy of it, something underneath, warm and quiet and entirely separate from the absurdity, like a second conversation happening below the first one.
The cigarettes burned down and he pinched them out ā slowly, carefully ā and dropped them in the ashtray. He rolled his jaw. Tilted his head.
āSay something,ā he said.
āSomething.ā
āOh. Sheās hilarious.ā He pulled the towels off, took another cigarette from the pack and held it out toward me.
āI donāt smoke,ā I said.
āI didnāt either.ā He tapped the side of his head. āThen Sanchez happened.ā
He lit one for himself and leaned back against the doorframe and he was a different man without the towels and the ear cigarettes ā just a man on a porch, smoking, at ease, and the shift was so stark it caught me off guard. Bud was still on my lap. The waves were still coming in. Hank blew smoke at the stars and I watched the line of his jaw and the way his hand rested on his knee and I thought: fuck.
Because thatās what it was. That was the thought. Not poetic, not complicated. Just: fuck. Okay. This is a thing now.
āYour foot,ā he said. āYou should go to the pharmacy in town tomorrow. Blue sign. Get antiseptic.ā
āOkay.ā
He took a drag of his cigarette. āWhere are you staying?ā
āBoca Paila road.ā
He looked at the dark beach. āThatās a walk. On that foot. In the dark.ā
I looked down. My sandals. My sandals were on the beach somewhere, dropped in the sand when I went down.
āMy shoes,ā I said. āI dropped them when I āā
āYouāre not going to find them now. Hold on.ā
He went inside and came back in a T-shirt and shorts ā proper clothes, finally, which was both a relief and, if Iām being honest, a slight downgrade ā and holding a pair of flip-flops. He held them out. āFair warning: these are going to look ridiculous on you.ā
They did. I stood up ā Bud slid off my lap with a noise of absolute contempt ā and the flip-flops were enormous. I looked like a child whoād raided my daās wardrobe.
āIām not going to say anything,ā Hank said.
āYouāre already saying it with your face.ā
He walked me back along the beach. I was limping in his ridiculous flip-flops and the moon was out and we walked slowly and I was aware of him beside me the way youāre aware of someone youāve just seen naked, which is to say: acutely.
We were quiet for a while. The waves came in and went back and the sand was silver under the moon and I could see the outline of him beside me ā the height, the jaw, the pale ends of his hair ā and I was thinking about the beach and the sarong and the whole ridiculous sequence and before I could stop myself I said:
āI didnāt realise this was a clothes optional beach, by the way.ā
He made a sound ā half-laugh, half-groan. āItās not.ā
āCouldāve fooled me.ā
āI swim here every day. Twice a day. For three years. Thereās hardly ever anyone on this stretch.ā He glanced sideways at me.
āI wasnāt complaining. Until the sea urchin.ā
He smiled. I could see it even in the dark ā the way it changed the shape of his face, the way it made him look younger and less careful. He didnāt smile like someone who did it often. He smiled like someone whoād forgotten he could and was surprised to find the muscles still worked.
We walked. The flip-flops slapped on the wet sand. Somewhere down the coast the bass from a bar was carrying on the air and it felt very far away, like it belonged to a different evening, one where I was doing shots with Carly and RoisĆn and not walking along a dark beach with a man Iād met because Iād been staring at him naked and a sea urchin had intervened.
āCaoimhe,ā he said, out of nowhere. Testing it.
āYeah?ā
āNo ā Iām just āā He paused. āHow do you spell that?ā
āC-A-O-I-M-H-E.ā
He stopped walking. āSorry. Say that again.ā
āC-A-O-I-M-H-E.ā
āAnd thatās Caoimhe.ā
āThatās Caoimhe.ā
He started walking again, shaking his head slowly. āBetween that and Dunfanaghy, Iām starting to think the Irish language is just a prank.ā
āItās very logical once you know the rules.ā
āWhat are the rules?ā
āI donāt actually know. I just know the words.ā
He laughed ā short, warm, real ā and I felt it in my chest, a quick bright thing, and I thought: I want to make him do that again. I want to keep making him do that.
The lights of the Boca Paila road came through the trees. Music, voices. We stopped where the dark beach met the edge of the noise.
āThatās me,ā I said.
āThatās you.ā Hands in his pockets.
I took off the flip-flops. Held them out.
āKeep them,ā he said.
āThen Iāll have to bring them back.ā
It sat there. Simple and obvious and meaning exactly what it meant.
āI swim every evening,ā he said. āSame beach. Sunset.ā
āOkay.ā
We stood there. The music from the bar. The waves behind us. His face half-lit, half-dark.
āNight, Caoimhe,ā he said, and he said it right ā softly, carefully, like heād been practising it the whole walk.
āNight, Hank.ā
He turned and walked back down the dark beach and I watched him go and I was smiling and my foot hurt and I was holding his flip-flops and I was going to go back. I was going to go back to that beach. I knew it and he knew it and the sea urchin probably knew it, wherever it was down there in the dark, the little bastard.
I went inside. Carly was at the bar. She took one look at me and said, āWhere the fuck have you been?ā
I sat down. I couldnāt stop smiling.
āRight,ā I said. āSo. You know how I said I was going for a walk?ā
Warnings: Adult material 18+, nipple sucking and more dry humping
A/N: Shout out to @dailydoseofaustinbutler, who has all the deets pinned for this challenge!
The masterlist for this challenge is here.
My big ol masterlist
āEight months?!ā
I found it hard to believe. This man was too fine to go that long without sex. Yeah, I knew that sex wasnāt as important to other people as it was to me, but wow.Ā
āI told you I like real connectionā¦ and thatās been hard to find lately whenā¦āĀ
He acted like he knew exactly what he meant, but just didnāt want to say it.Ā
āWater, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink?ā I guessed, cocking my head.Ā
He nodded, shrugging and a little embarrassed. Not, it seemed, from the eight months, but at his own fame.Ā It had to be hard when the one thing that you wanted came at such a price. Fame man, a double edged sword.Ā
āAlright,ā I said, trying to assimilate this information. āIs this too much for you?ā I asked, suddenly concerned that I was pressuring him.Ā
āNo, no no no. I like it, I like you. I need it. I want it.ā I half expected him to beg, to add the āpleaseā that was in his eyes.
āWhen was your last test? Do we even need these?ā I picked up the condom.Ā
He shrugged āIāve been clean every time I tested, that was wellā¦ eight months ago.Ā But pregnancy? Iām not in a place for that, right now.ā
āNo, me neither, I have an IUD,ā I went on, āand I have a test from a couple weeks ago, all negative. Itās terribly irresponsible,ā I said rolling my eyes, I was serious but also feeling silly.Ā
āYes, very.ā he nodded somberly. āBut the stones might like it better, if we are bare.āĀ
The fact that he said this sealed the deal. Whether it was that he could feel the magic of the place or that we just both wanted to do it and needed a reason, I wasnāt sure. But it was true that these places liked the old ways: bare bodies, bare bits, and bare souls.Ā
āAustin, are you trying to say that the stones prefer āclothing optionalā?ā I made air quotes with my fingers.Ā
āWell, if you want to leave clothes onā¦ might make it harder.āĀ
The cheesy line feels pretty hard to me ran through my mind. Instead I ran my palm over his trapped dick and looked at him like he was lunch.
āFuck,ā he said under his breath.Ā
With that he slid his hands up my belly and peeled off my blouse.Ā
The cool night air hit my nipples, bringing them to points in the moonlight. Bra? We donāt need no stinking bra.Ā
His breath shuddered in appreciation.Ā
His fingers traced my ribcage and I pulled my hair back into a quick messy bun with the hair tie on my wrist. His thumbs lightly brushed the taut flesh of my nipples, sending heat like water trickling down my belly to pool in my pelvis.Ā
It was my turn for a shuddery inhale.Ā
āGod you are breathtaking,ā he murmured, looking right at me before planting a soft, worshipful kiss in the valley of my breastbone.Ā Ā
My hands carded lightly into his hair, the silky locks pure pleasure between my fingertips. It was unfair, when men had such divine hair.Ā Ā
Warmth enveloped my nipple, his tongue grazing the tip in a way that said he liked having his nipples sucked too.
He latched on, cupping with his tongue before taking a long, soft pull. His hands wrapped around my back, pulling me closer as he worked his mouth.Ā
āFuck,Ā thatās good!ā I moaned, tossing my head back at the sensation.
He kept it up with his mouth. One hand slid up my thighs and between my legs. He pressed with his palm giving me something to pulse against. It's like he could read my mind, but more likely my body. Iām not ashamed to say that I ended up rutting against him. I reveled in the pressure, in the vision of him pressed so close to my breast, and in the warmth of his body under mine.Ā
Should I Stay or Should I Go Now: Arula spills her swirling concerns at an inopportune moment for Feyd words: 900
Warnings: Oral fem rec, serious questions
Pulled from her dream by the feeling of something soft wrapping around the nub between her lower lips Arula started to sit up in confusion.
After their most explosive argument he'd woken her two more times for aggressive sessions to make it point. Only stopping when during her second completion during their third round she exclaimed without realizing it that he was everything. Not her everything, but in general. "Feyd... I... I think you might be everything." He was grinning when he rolled off her still hard. But had a sullen look in his eye when he pulled her to his chest to sleep. "Clearly I've succeeded in fucking you stupid. Sleep."
Sitting up. She saw him, both of her legs wrapped around his shoulders, eyes on her with an odd interest in them. It was unusual how he could still make her blush even with his tongue sliding in her core. "Oh..." He wasn't smirking like she expected. Feyd only applied pressure to her stomach until she laid back, then turned his eyes back to his task.
While was doing her best to enjoy the strange moment she mostly found herself wondering why. Why was he so awful and then suddenly acted with her like any other partner? Just as she could feel the sensation starting to become too much, to overwhelm her thought process she broke. "Do you like me?"
Instantly he was frozen between her legs. Stopped midway on his path following her slit from the bottom to her clit. He pulled his tongue back in his mouth but didn't immediately adjust himself to look at her. Speaking to her thigh. "Like you? I'm nose deep in your cunt Arula."
Worrying her lower lip between her teeth. She grabbed the sheets tightly with both hands, squeezing them a couple times. "But, I mean not my. Do you like me?" Feyd made a sound like an injured animal caught in an awkward situation. Moving her legs so that her knees bent around his sides under his arms instead of going over his shoulders, he stayed up on his elbows and looked at her for a long moment. "I don't understand your question."
Of course he didn't. There probably wasn't a single moment he'd considered whether or not the person sitting across from him in a room or lying underneath him in a bed, enjoyed his personality. "Do you like talking to me?" Mouth hanging open slightly he looked to the side. Deep in thought for a too long pause. Then crawled slightly up her body until her core was pressed just under his sternum. "You are the only person yet to be born who has the ability to speak to me the way they please without recourse."
He brought one of his hands up the line of her side. Arula thought he was going to squeeze her breast, but he kept his hand under it and then squeezed the top of her rib cage as if he was trying to hold her heart. "The only other people in that position earned it with pain or by power." His fingers dug at the skin but didn't hurt worse than his hand around her throat.
"I do not believe myself capable of the kind of emotions you are looking for Arula." Leaning down to place his cheek over where his hand just was, Feyd took a deep long breath holding it in. Maneuvering his arms under her and squeezing like a vice. "But if I didn't want YOU, I could have simply had you made again and falsified the cloning records. I could have you exactly with the temperament that I would find easiest." Without realizing she was doing it, she gasped. Unsure how to respond.
"It's not a threat. It's just the truth. I could have had you made brand new and empty. But a slave for a wife would grow tiring eventually. You... are something different." He moved an arm out from under her and grabbed her by either side of her jaw. Pulling her face down to look at him.
"And what if I wanted to leave?" His pupils grew wide and then retracted. Snarling out his explanation he looked vicious. "Then you could go. But I would never forgive you. When you realize anyone else alive would want something from you because of who you are, they might even offer you less of yourself than I have. I wouldn't let you come back. The betrayal would only happen once."
There was no lie in what he said. The few times she joined him at his meetings she'd seen it. People looked at her like she was made of money. Feyd looked at her like a chance. Arula was just never sure what it was a chance for. "Then... I'll stay." He pulled back slightly. "Don't stay unless you want to be here. Unless you want a life of me, as I am. With very little chance of serious change."
Looking away from him as much as he allowed, she had only one real fear. "When you... we have a baby, babies will hurt them?" A shift moved over him and his demeanor was something she'd never encountered. Mouth flat and eyes blank, he looked at one of her hands where it rested on his arm.
"I wouldn't want to." The answer was so quiet she almost couldn't hear it. "I would keep my heir away from me before I would have them hate me as much as I hated my parents." Pushing her face to the side he added. "Are you done?" Not feeling like he would answer many more questions she nodded. "Yes. Thank you Feyd."
Still not looking directly at her, he shrugged. Then tugged her hips up and bit little marks across her stomach on the way back down to finish his early morning feast. "You choose awful times for interrogation, sleeper."
Warnings: Adult material 18+, kissing, dry humping, talk of cum
A/N: Shout out to @dailydoseofaustinbutler, who has all the deets pinned for this challenge!
The masterlist for this challenge is here.
My big ol masterlist
I watched her face freeze as she listened to me, then steel as if she was about to hear a jury verdict not in her favor. I should have read the damn room and shut the fuck up.Ā
But I just had to tell her how connected and alive she made me feel, how easy it was to kiss her and how much I wanted to take care of her in the best way.Ā
Apparently I was failing miserably without realizing it. Ah, blood loss to the brain.Ā
āWell, should I stay or should I go now?ā she said with a carefully neutral face.Ā
āGo?āĀ
Why was she quoting song lyrics to me?Ā Then it hit me, I was about to fumble this so bad. Oh god, sometimes Iām a dumb boy.Ā Honestly, it was a little scary, but it would be stupid to say no, to let fear eat away at living life.
āWhat Iām trying rather poorly to say is if that first kiss was any indication, then somehow the captivating woman I first laid eyes on two hours ago has bypassed all my carefully constructed shy guy walls and made me feel more alive and connected and safe in the past hour and a half than I thought possible.ā
She closed her eyes then, taking a big breath then nodded at me to go on.Ā
āI will go as far as you want,ā I clarified, āanywhere you want. Iām game for out here if this is what you want.āĀ
Thank god my brain kicked in when it did, because I thought she might have bailed on me. No, sheād have kicked me from the circle and masturbated alone, Iām sure of it.Ā Instead she nodded, blowing out a breath and letting the hastily constructed mask fall away.
āI thought you were gonna boot me off your lap. Hello lurking abandonment trauma.ā She said the last mostly to herself.Ā
āI assure you, there are a lot of things Iād like to do, but kicking you off my lap isnāt one of them.ā
āOh yeah? Like what?āĀ she arched an eyebrow.
I felt like it was test. One of those open ended response ones where you ramble on and hope there are enough key words thrown in to make it look like you know what you are talking about.
āI want to run my hands over every bit of you just to watch your body respond and learn all your little nooks and crannies. I want to witness you wrapped in pleasure. I want you to be unable to decide if you should beg me to stop or beg me for more.āĀ
This time my mental flow did me right. She nearly whimpered on my lap, so she must have liked what I said.Ā Her lips pressed together and her brows furrowed as though trying to control herself. Her hips though, they shook as I spoke.
āFuckā she breathed, āyeah ok.āĀ
She leaned over to her bag, rummaged around and produced a couple condoms.
I couldn't help myself.
I grabbed her by the back of her neck and kissed her hard. I could feel my own puffing breath eddy against her cheek. I nearly lost control with how she took over my deep kiss, all perfect pressure and suction and tongue. She melted against me, riding my bulge.Ā
āFuckā I grabbed her hips āIf keep doing that, Iām going to cum in my pants.āĀ
āOh, we canāt have that,ā she said, backing off and clearly trying to get a grip.Ā
āI hope you donāt mind if I get a little selfish,ā I told her, āitās been a bit for me and I want to savor every second, go real slow.āĀ
āGoing slow is selfish eh? Well then I want to be selfish too.āĀ
This time I kissed her in slow motion, sucking on her lip. She nibbled her way down my neck, trying not to grind on my hardness.Ā
āMay I ask, how long is āa bitā?ā Her words were hot in my ear.
āSince Iāve been with someone else? Eight months,ā I said through the shiver down my spine.Ā
I thought her jaw was going to drop on the floor.Ā
I Don't Get It: Feyd makes his point clear when Arula thinks about pushing back. 800 words
Warnings: Noncon/ dubcon, p in v, argument, toxic relationship, trauma bond
"You won't do it." As she backed to the wall Feyd looked almost disappointed with her. "Of course I will. Take the dress off." Arula shook her head, keeping her shoulders high and her face stern. "No. You don't own me. I'm a human being and a person. If I say I won't then I won't."
He circled to the left, both hands at his hips, snarl spread across his features. "You embarrassed me. Now you're refusing to apologize?" A laugh tore from her. "Oh, and the four hours I spent standing there, not "allowed"," she'd made quotes around the word in the air "to speak as you told a room full of strangers what an impressive accomplishment I am for you?"
Groaning his annoyance, his stormy blue eyes rolled. "Please, you've always know you were here as part if my plan to win allies." She looked at the ground in shame. "As your wife. I thought I would be a wife, not a prize." Coming a few steps closer with cold predator like movement, Feyd tucked both hands behind his back and shrugged. "Perhaps you misunderstood what I need of a wife. Why are you still dressed?"
Arula hit the wall behind her and rised her hands in pathetic defense as he crept ever closer. "Because I'm not in the mood. I will not spend the rest of my life only being allowed a personality behind closed doors." Taking a deep breath, hands trembling to keeping control, he growled.
"You will do what I ask of you. If not for me you'd be an ice cube. Lost and gone forever. But I SAVED YOU. I knew showing you softness would end in annoyance." In a swift motion he put on hand around her neck and the other pinned her to the wall by one hip. "Do not mistake yourself." One at a time he moved his fingers down her body, unhooking the small metal latches keeping her emerald green dress together.
"You will be my prize, my proof that everything I've found in the last months aren't a threat. You will marry me in front of the whole world to declare your loyalty to the man who brought you from the brink of death." With her dress open he ripped her black silk panties from her body. Revealing her neatly trimmed slit. "You will bare my children and make the strongest generation of Harkonnen since the old day." There was little build up. Hand back around her throat he released her hip to undo the belt to his long black skirt. Dropping to off and lifting her thigh.
"I will give you everything you need." In a short thrust he entered her. Folds unready and dragging over his length. "Feyd stop... please." He tucked his face in her neck. Holding her hair in a fist and her thigh in the other. "Tell me you love it." She pushed her trapped hands against his chest. "It hurts."
He moaned, hiking her leg higher and shifting so he brutalized her walls with each piston. Filling her to the brink as her body adjusted to his intrusion against her will. "My love was always going to hurt." Without warning he bit her roughly. Teeth scraping over skin and latching on. His hips moved until all she could do was grip his bicep and the back of his smooth head. "Wait..." he bit harder, drawing tears as her core started to quiver around him.
He smiled, teeth still stuck in her skin. Fingers curled tight she left deep red marks over his arm and neck. "Feyd." It wasn't praise or pleading. It was terror that she could want him so much with so much evidence of his horror. He pumped deep one last time and filled her as her orgasm waned.
"I don't get it." She was crying as he lifted her with ease. Resting her head defeated against his shoulder while he lay her down. "Don't overthink it sleeper. We are all meant for something." Just the tips of three fingers brushed the hair from her face. Using his thumb against her cheekbone to point her attention at his face. "And your fate is to be mine." With efficient movement he rolled her to one side and crushed her close to his chest.
Iām going to start this by saying that Iām sharing my opinion in this ddofab. We all know everybody has one, and we donāt always have to agree with each other, and just because someone doesnāt agree with you doesnāt mean their opinion is wrong. We all like different things, and just because I donāt like something that you love doesnāt mean thereās something wrong with me or you, we just have different tastes.Ā
Consider this my version of Unpopular Opinions.Ā Ā
When I first saw this photo of Austin I gasped. Not with joy, but with horror. My immediate thought was āoh no, no, no, no, no, Austin, you canāt be wearing that. You look like my dad.ā I mean, if my dad had been white, 6ā2 and looked like Austin Butler.Ā
Photo by: Vanity Fair, the Hollywood Issue, November, 18, 2025 (This is behind a paywall, so I can't actually see who the photo credit belongs too.)
Iāll concede that itās the rearview perspective, but that outfitā¦well, this was what my dad wore everyā¦. singleā¦ dayā¦ ofā¦ hisā¦ life. Granted the shirt was usually some sort of plaid shirt, but the only time he wasnāt wearing blue jeans and a button up was when he wore a t-shirt that had a front pocket where heād store his cigarettes (if he hadnāt rolled them up in his sleeve). Sometimes the tee was in a dark color, but mostly it was white, because Sears and Roebuck always sold them in packs, and why would a man waste his time shopping somewhere else when he could buy his Craftman tools with their lifetime warranty in the same place as his clothes.
My dad and Austin shared the same ethos about clothing. He would have tease him relentlessly for paying thousands of dollars for clothes that the original owner paid $20 bucks for, but heād have given him a āproud of you, sonā if heād been alive to see Austin wearing the same outfits repeatedly on the Caught Stealing press tour.Ā Ā Ā Ā
Anyway, my point is that I canāt look at Austin in this photo and not see my dad. I love my dad. I was a daddyās girl, but I donāt wanna be lusting after looking at Austin and thinking of my dad. It kills the mood real fast.
This one may get me kicked out of the fandom.Ā
I apologize in advance to my mutuals, butā¦.
I appreciate the man cleavage, but this black leather Givenchy by Sarah Burton jacket should have stayed on the couch it was made from. I look at this picture and Iām like, ābabe, somebody gave you some really bad advice that dayā. The smolder only works if you can see his eyes. Was the one eye being exposed supposed to happen, or did his sunglasses slip? Itās confusing.Ā
Photo by Dia Dipasupil/Getty Images
Iām telling you that even Austin knows this jacket was a bad idea. Itās why he took it off and paired it with a white tee shirt when he left the after party. The white tee shirt and leather pants were sexy. This jacket, not so much.
Tell me thereās a difference between this couch and that jacket. The couch looks better. It doesnāt have wrinkles, and you can sit on it. It has a purpose. It serves a need. The only thing that jacket does is make me wanna take it off of him, and I mean in that a completely non-inappropriate way. That alone means it needs to be confined to the closet of things to never be seen again.
Summary: more on the kissy smoochie and UH OH are things about to get sour??? (Her POV)
Warnings: Adult material 18+, kissing, mention of masturbation and erections.
A/N: Shout out to @dailydoseofaustinbutler, who has all the deets pinned for this challenge!
The masterlist for this challenge is here.
My big ol masterlist
The look on his face screamed āI donāt get itāĀ but all he could get out was āWhat?āĀ
It was not what he had expected me to say.Ā
āSorry,ā I giggled, more at myself than at him, āIām getting ahead of myself.āĀ
I leaned back, giving myself some space to order my thoughts.Ā
He had felt so fucking perfect against my mouth. No square millimeter of those full lips went unused, went wasted in the last ten minutes. It had been apparent that his shyness did not extend to his ability to make someone feel thoroughly kissed.Ā
It had taken me all of about twenty seconds to fall prey to his oral trap. The way he guided me imperceptibly to match him was nothing short of magic.Ā
My body just reacted, not seeking permission from either of us really. One second I was sitting next to him, looking up as he was leaning down toward me, and the next I was in his lap. His hands slid under the flowy hem of my knit top and warmed the skin on my waist. The way he steadied me without even missing a curl of his tongue against mine was intoxicating. I felt held, supported in a way that made me feel like I could touch the sky.
No, really, from one kiss.Ā
But holy fuck what a kiss.Ā Ā
I could literally feel the vasodilation in my blood vessels prickling my core. My hips didnāt petition my brain to move and I couldnāt have fought it if I tried. They pumped back and forth softly against his body, searching for the hard swell of him all on their own. When he adjusted himself, it was a small movement, a thing men do all the time. But it didnāt stop me from suddenly wanting to watch him stroke himself.
By the time I pulled back my whole body was tingling with more than just blood flow. I was buzzing, mind, spirit and body.Ā
I tried to take a breath, but the moonlight struck his face. Those eyes staring up at me, looking at me like I was some kind of seraphim hovering above him and whoosh, there went my breath.Ā
Knowing that he was turned on, made him even hotter.Ā
And now here he was, feeling the stones, telling me that he liked me, showing me that he wanted me without words. It made me feel not like a thing to be claimed, but a woman to be worshipped.Ā Ā
Luckily he kissed me again, because my mental lexicon failed to load. Words seemed hard. And indeed, they were.Ā
Nature Boy? What the hell brain?Ā
Deep breath. Try again.Ā Ā
āGod you turn me on. And I donāt know how you feel about casual sex, but Iād like to go further here. We donāt have to if you donāt want to or if you aren't comfortable out here.ā I lifted my hands to indicate the stones.
Please, please be comfortable, was my internal monologue. Did the stones NEED consent, no, but Iād be damned if I would be the one to wake the stones without it.Ā
āOh, I see.ā If he was blushing, the silver gray of the moonlight hid it well.Ā He took a big breath, whether to stave off his nerves or his desire I couldn't tell.Ā
When he took his time answering, I feared I had crossed some famous person line that I had no idea about.Ā
āIāll admit I donāt do it much,ā he said with a shrug, ānot that Iām against it. I like it better when I know my partner. I feel like if there is a connection you can read them better. There is less āwalk of shameā and more desire to take care of each other. I enjoy it so much more, it makes me feel alive. I like real intimacy, not just some run of the mill lap dance.āĀ
He rambled like he was trying to let me down easy, but it came across more like explaining to a toddler why they canāt pour milk on the floor. I heard āthis was nice and all but please get off my lap before it gets messyā. I tried really hard not to feel rejected, but old tapes die hard.Ā
