Iâm usually a writer who leans heavily into angst and tragedy. Thereâs just something fascinating about writing stories that leave that awful heart-clenching feeling behind. And of course⊠the tension and the smut too đ I normally prefer long, emotionally devastating plots, but lately Iâve been tempted to abandon all restraint and just write pure Shawn Hatosy thirst content.
Sammy Bryant x Rich, bratty !reader
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |
I... just saw Obsession. Now... now how can I make this all about me and Shawn Hatosy?
Down on her luck and a victim of the society she can't do a thing to change, reader snaps a One Wish Willow.
She doesn't know the full weight of her wish - the price that comes with it.
That price? Titus Danforth.
He's heir to the Danforth legacy, the high seat, the fucking world. The pressure to marry is weighing on his shoulders - heavy and haunting as Mr. LeBail's countless games.
Riiiight before she snaps the willow, she bumps into Titus. Being the pompous 'holier than thou' asshole he is, he lets her hit the ground like she never existed.
"Rich bastard, wish he cared about me as much as his precious estate." You figured the branch was a gag gift anyway, so why not use it to poke fun at the older prick?
[I'm a tad tipsy writing this pitch so pls excuse me]
But it would be a spiral into madness, Titus' urge to take over the world - now reflected at the reader, an undying devotion at any cost.
With the world at his hands, how could you ever get away?
The city had been just about everything you dreamed off.
Youâd been a real touristy cliche, stumbling out of a taxi with a box of your belongings and your heart set on conquering the big apple. College had always been a part of your plan and you would sit in your childhood home, surrounded by the woes of suburbia, and tell yourself that if it wasnât far away then you didnât want to go.
You were happy to be a stereotypical freshman girl from a small town, navigating the streets of New York with a smile and too big of a heart.
Your time between classes got spent reading down in the park or trying out local coffee shops, taking the train across town just to find your way back to campus without a map. You wanted to know the city like the back of your hand, even if it took getting lost and missing lectures a few dozen times.
Everything was going exactly as it should be.
Eddie wasnât necessarily a part of your planned out future, in fact he was pretty close to the opposite of something you would have prepared for.
He had stuck out to you from the moment you saw him, getting far too rowdy in the back corner of a bar your new friends had dragged you along to.
It already wasnât your scene, you hadnât been to a place with people like this back home, and the added volume from the drunk boys definitely didnât help.
One of Eddies friends had noticed one of yours and made his way over like a snake through the tall grass, shoulders bumping carelessly with the other tipsy patrons that didnât even spare him a glance.
She seemed to like him enough, especially when he bought you all your first round of drinks like he wasnât on a college kids budget, and fate was practically sealed from then on out.
You didnât really talk to Eddie much that first night and you figured he wouldnât have remembered it even if you had, already slurring his words and laughing loudly at his friends jokes before he even made it over to get introduced to you all.
He had scanned over each new face as your names were rattled off by your friend that was now pressed against the side of his own, eyes a little glazed like he wasnât really registering the difference between them all.
And then he reached you.
You watched his gaze pass you by and then immediately falter and bounce back in your direction, sticking on your features even after the other names began to follow yours.
Youâd flushed and looked away, eventually making your way outside and bumming a cigarette off of some older woman outside who looked about as haggard as you felt. It made you cough, chest itchy and sore from the unfamiliar feeling, but you were halfway determined to be the type of girl who smoked under the rush of the city.
You hadnât thought much about the boy and the backwards cap, even though his friend started to make an appearance weekly.
It became clear pretty quickly that things were getting serious between him and your friend, halfway roommate considering how often you escaped the dorms in favor of sleeping on her couch.
The merging of the friend groups was slow but then permanent as soon as it became a reality. Suddenly Eddie Hicks was at every social event you attended, as big as a party in somebodyâs parentless townhouse and as intimate as a movie night with just the four of you.
There were plenty of words people used to describe Eddie and you werenât necessarily a fan of any of them. He wasnât exactly stupid he just didnât care about his studies as much as your average peer and he certainly wasnât as immature as others might think he was based off of a drunken night or a brief public interaction.
You thought he could be really sweet when he wanted to. His voice would get soft when it was just the two of you and heâd talk a lot more with a much lower level of volume, rambling about small subjects you didnât really understand and showing you he had more depth than getting wasted and jumping into the fountain on campus.
Heâd lose that softness when others were around and you felt a little thrown off the first few times he did it before understanding it was just how he presented himself.
It was easier for him to be the party boy that didnât get embarrassed or nervous in a crowd.
You liked to be around Eddie and he wasnât shy about showing you that he felt the same way. He was almost constantly at your dorm, knocking lightly at the door and encouraging you to come outside with him as soon as you would answer.
That was your favorite part about him, other than the general comfortability you had started to feel after the first few months. He loved the city more than you, more than anybody else youâd met since youâd first stepped out onto the busy streets.
Not many people around you had actually been born in New York but Eddie was a city boy down to his core. He still went to eat dinner with his mom at his childhood apartment twice a week, taking the train thirty minutes across town without hesitation, and he had barely left the zip code area he was born in before college.
He thought it was sweet that you liked to get a little lost so he wouldnât correct you when you went on your adventures together, letting you find your way back home despite the fact he knew it was the wrong way almost every single time. Youâd take a glance at his face when you would board a train car, groaning and hiding in his shoulder when you realized you had messed up again and feeling the way his frame vibrated as he laughed.
The touchiness was a whole different ballgame you werenât sure how to navigate with him.
Honestly, you hadnât even noticed it. It just felt natural for you to gravitate towards each other in a crowd, his hand on your lower back or yours wrapped around his arm to make sure neither of you strayed too far from the other.
Youâd press up against him during movie nights and heâd let your ankles lock together, playing with your fingers absentmindedly as he watched. You fell asleep together often on long study nights or at more lowkey house parties, his head in your lap or you resting against his chest and dozing off on his shoulder.
Eddie was your friend and you liked to be around him. You werenât exactly an expert on boys so you didnât think much of it until everybody else started to point it out.
At first it was curious glances between the two of you and then it was full out teasing confrontation, openly commenting on it in front of both of you despite how awkward youâd get.
âSheâd never go for a guy like me.â Eddie would reply with a goofy grin like it was the easiest answer in the world, his arm going around your shoulder and shaking you softly for emphasis.
You would laugh and smile fondly but it made your chest feel a little weird and tight. You figured he was just being nice, playing it safe and rejecting you but making it sound like it was for your sake.
It could be blamed on your inexperience, the lack of willing suitors back in your hometown who didnât get to see you in your college prime, or just plain denial. You assumed that if Eddie happened to like you then he would be just as eager to let you know as his friend Alex had been that first night at the bar with yours, immediately coming over to her and not leaving her side since.
But you werenât too upset about it because you liked to be Eddies friend more than anything, even if it got a little confusing occasionally.
Now you were right back at the same bar almost nine months since the first time, pushing your way through the crowd with only a mildly disgusted look this go around. Youâd started to get used to it along with the rest of the city and its liveliness.
You still felt a rush of relief when you got through the mass of bodies and saw your friends at the back table, your favorite drink already in the empty space besides Eddie.
You easily slid into the spot next to him, barely getting out a soft greeting before he was turning to look at you and wrapping his arm around your side.
âWe thought you werenât going to make it.â Sarah was frowning slightly like the idea was a lot sadder than it was in reality due to her already tipsy state.
You liked Sarah quite a bit despite how different the two of you were, her large apartment paid for by her parents and closet full of designer clothes painting a much different picture than your own humble upbringing. She let you crash on her fancy couch when your dorm mate was being obnoxious and occasionally gave you any tops she grew out of so you figured she liked you quite a bit back.
âI missed the train.â You replied softly even though she wasnât even really listening to your reply, going to say something you couldnât pick up to Alex.
You turned to Eddie instead who already seemed to be waiting for your attention, hand resting lightly on your side as he pushed your drink in your direction and watched you take a slow sip.
âAgain? I thought we got that down by now.â He didnât miss the opportunity to tease you for your lack of direction and you rolled your eyes.
âIt was busy okay? I got a little bit distracted and it just flew past.â You explained over the noise, faltering between sentences to slightly grimace at his cigarette smoke that was floating in the space between your faces.
He didnât hesitate to put it out when he saw your expression, waving the air to clear the rest of it and easily catching your weight when you leaned against him in thanks.
âYou totally missed it.â Sarah was suddenly speaking up again and smacking a perfectly manicured hand down on the sticky table in front of you. âEddies been trying to get the bartenders number all night.â
Your eyes went across the crowded bar to find the woman in question, definitely a few years your senior and intimidating enough that you quickly looked away before she caught you staring. You glanced at Eddie next to find him glaring at Sarah, eyebrows furrowed and his free hand turned up like he was questioning her
âNot going well?â You attempted to ask it as causally as you could, like you were just a friend equally as invested in your buddies attempt to pick up a pretty girl as everybody else.
You could feel his hand twitching against your side and you were suddenly hyper aware of the touch that normally came so natural to the two of you, stepping to the side just enough that he would have to awkwardly stretch to keep touching you.
He dropped his hand and gave you an almost guilty look before shaking his head.
âSheâs just messing around.â He tried to smooth it over and that almost made you feel more upset.
You felt like this was the worst case scenario, Eddie somehow realizing you might feel something towards him and pitying you so much he felt like he needed to lie to keep your feelings from getting hurt.
âHeâs been sitting here sulking all night waiting for you.â Alex was chiming in with an attempt to make things less tense but neither of the dismissals were helping especially now that your mind had gone to less than kind places.
âIâm going to get a fresh drink.â You managed to get out, sending them a tight smile before pushing your way back into the crowd. You vaguely heard Eddie saying something sharply, most likely directly at Sarah, but you were suddenly grateful for the loud music and voices to keep you from overhearing something you wouldnât like.
You were leaning against the bar after requesting a drink, waiting patiently with your hands tapping on the wood, when you felt him behind you.
You didnât need to look to know who it was and you had expected him to follow you regardless, sighing softly when you felt his arms go around you from behind. You let yourself get tugged back gently until your back was against his chest, your own hands reaching near your stomach to hold his wrist.
âWant me to get her number for you?â Your eyebrows raised as you looked at the bartender who was moving from section to section smoothly, feeling him tense behind you.
Now it was his turn to sigh and his forehead rested against your shoulder for a brief moment.
âStop it, you know I wasnât flirting with her. I donât think I even talked to her.â He started to defend himself and you were once again wondering why he felt the need to, if it really just stemmed from pity and a friendly attempt to save you some dignity.
âItâs fine if you were Eddie.â You shrugged and you heard him let out another huffy breath at the words. âI mean it. You can have fun on a night out.â
âI have fun when youâre here.â He said back quickly and it was slightly muffled considering his face was now pressed against your shoulder like he was planning to hide in your neck.
Your drink got placed in front of you but you ignored it for a moment, turning to face him and rubbing your hand over his ribs and chest as he let out a deep breath of possible relief.
Heâd told you before how much your touch made him feel better, whispered it in a quiet room when he was positive nobody was listening.
Your nose rubbed against his and his eyes fluttered shut when your lips brushed together, never fully touching but ghosting along just enough for the thought to cross your mind. His hands had moved to your lower back to keep you tight against him but you werenât planning on going anywhere regardless.
You pulled back just enough so you didnât accidentally kiss him, his eyes opening and looking a bit more dejected than beforehand.
âLetâs go back.â You said softly and he hesitated but nodded eventually, grabbing your drink for you and guiding you back to the table with a hand on your waist.
You and Eddie were always like that but you were suddenly unable to get used to it.
You were hyper aware of everything, including the looks Sarah and Alex would give each other whenever they saw the two of you standing closely or touching casually. His hands felt hot on your skin and you could barely stomach rubbing over his arms softly without feeling those nearly painful butterflies.
It was starting to feel that awful right now, sat on the couch together like youâd done dozens of times before.
Your legs were sideways over his lap, sides pressed together with one of his arms behind your back to support your weight and keep you from falling against the couch. His other palm was between your thighs right above your knees, just resting there in the warm skin of your closed legs.
You had one hand in his curls and the other on his arms. It was probably your most default position for watching a movie but you felt like it was beyond intimate right now, trying your best to try ignore the way it made you think and react so you could stay close to him.
The door was opening and you barely glanced up at Alex and Sarah coming in, grocery bags in hands and mid laugh like they always seemed to be.
She sent a look your way but didnât say anything just yet although you tensed with the anticipation. It was a few more minutes before they got the food put away and came to join you in the dimly lit living room, plopping down on a loveseat and eyeing you curiously for a moment.
âOkay seriously, whatâs going on with you two?â She asked abruptly and you sighed softly, already assuming she was going to pry as soon as she saw the way you were curled around each other.
âWeâre friends.â You offer her the same line you always do even though youâre aware of how ridiculous it comes across when youâre holding each other like this.
Eddie doesnât help much at all, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head that youâre half convinced he did just to drive her a little more crazy.
âThis is hard to watch.â She sighs and sinks lower in her seat just in time to miss the handful of popcorn you throw in her direction.
Thankfully she doesnât say anything else after the light teasing although Alex gives Eddie a wiggle of his eyebrows before getting his own spot for the movie, your eyes rolling once you catch it.
Itâs almost constant lately but you really canât blame them for their confusion considering you barely understand your relationship yourself.
The next week, youâre studying in his room, lying on your stomach in his bed and flipping through pages while you try to pretend you donât feel him staring at you. He doesnât even shy away when you glance up and raise an eyebrow, just giving you a soft smile and continuing watching you even when you go back to your textbook.
Eventually it starts to drive you so crazy that you have to set the book down to really stare at him.
âHi Ed.â You keep your voice light and he finally leaves his place on the floor to come and join you on the small twin sized mattress, sitting up beside where youâre still flat on your stomach.
âHey.â He sounds softer than normal, definitely distracted and maybe a little lost in thought.
His hand comes up to brush some of your behind your ear gently before heâs moving it lower, letting it rest on your lower back. He swipes his thumb right where the fabric of your tank top had ridden up, warming up your skin with his own.
You sigh blissfully and fold your arms in front of you so you can rest your head on them.
âYou okay?â You nearly whisper and his eyes leave your back for a quick second to check your face before heâs back to staring at the area heâs touching.
âIâm⊠really really okay.â He says back and itâs still a bit far away sounding which makes you laugh lightly.
The air felt heavy and charged in a way you werenât really used to and when he went back to watching your face, you almost thought he might lean down and kiss you.
You both jumped when the door swung open, intimate bubble popped immediately as Sarah and Alex burst in and barely acknowledged the fact they hadnât even attempted to announce themselves before coming in.
Alex was sending you both a curious look and you focused back in enough after your shock to register that Eddie had taken his hand off of you rather quickly, still looking a bit suspicious with the off guard look he had on his face.
âGreat news.â Sarahâs smile was bright and it was almost hard to be annoyed at her for interrupting when she seemed so excited, bouncing a little in her kitten heels and clasping her hands together in front of her. âIâve got you both double dates for the poetry show tonight.â
âSarah set it up.â Alex added on, she beamed like he was praising her but you figured he just wanted to shift the blame away from himself as soon as possible.
Neither of you said anything but you glanced at Eddie after a few long seconds to find him already watching you.
âNo.â His voice was firm but calm, decisive despite not really having a reason to decline.
Sarahâs face fell immediately and she dropped her hands to her sides.
âBut why not?â She asked desperately and shifted so she could kneel on the carpet beside the bed and really give you both a good view of her puppy eyes. âPlease you know how much I love playing match maker and theyâre both looking forward to it.â
âAlex.â Eddie spoke again in slight warning and your eyes went back and forth between each of your friends, trying to get a read on the silent conversation that seemed to be happy.
âI think itâs a good idea.â Alex shrugged and that made Sarah start to smile again. âAnd it makes her happy so.â
You didnât realize you were frowning until you felt the familiar hand back on your skin, rubbing softly and drawing your attention right back to him. Eddie was staring at you in a way you really didnât understand but you figured you could file it alongside the other mysteries you had surrounding him.
Sarahâs soft voice saying your name sent you spinning again, eyes meeting hers and slumping your shoulders in light defeat.
âYouâll do it?â She nearly gasped, hands reaching out to squeeze your arm.
âI mean I guess.â You sighed out, feeling terrible about disappointing her and also not being able to think of a legitimate reason you didnât want to do it that wouldnât immediately expose your weird feelings for the boy next to you.
Speaking of, he was getting up almost as soon as you voiced your confirmation. You tried to tune out Sarahâs excited squeals and the way she was squeezing your arm, watching as he left his own bedroom with a deep set frown.
Despite his initial refusal, the triple date ended up happening a few hours later.
You werenât sure what Alex had said to get Eddie out of the apartment because you were too busy being dragged back to Sarahâs so she could give you a makeover.
Clearly it hadnât been enough to get a smile on his face because he had been uncharacteristically stoic the entire night.
The bar had a much calmer crowd, soft spoken poetry replacing the usual loud music and sports television. Eddie still had never been this quiet during a night out and you felt overly guilty for agreeing to this arrangement and dragging him out in the process.
Your date was nice enough. He was supportive of the poets and asking you questions about yourself, putting your drinks on his tab and trying his best to get any type of positive response from you.
Youâd given him your best attempt at a polite smile for the past two hours and your cheeks were starting to ache. You figured Eddie didnât have the same issue because he hasnât so much as grinned even once, instead awkwardly staring at you from across the table in an overly noticeable way.
His date was chatting his ear off enough that she didnât even seem to notice his intense glare in your direction but yours surely did, shuffling in place nervously as he failed to understand the situation.
She was grabbing his arm and giggling obnoxiously every time she managed to get a small response from him even though they were few and far between.
âYouâre liking the city so far?â Your date, maybe Zach something, was tilting his head to try and get your attention back on him and not the way her nails were curling around Eddies forearm.
âYeah IâŠâ You trailed off and cleared your throat, glancing at him and giving an apologetic smile. âI actually need to use the restroom. Iâll be right back.â
You were pushing away from the table before he could manage out a reply, taking fast steps to the dimly lit hallway and pressing your back against the wall as you took a few slow breaths.
It wasnât too surprising to hear the footsteps following right behind yours, the soft touch wrapping around your wrist as his frame moved in front of yours.
Eddie didnât look at all like his usual goofy self, face far too serious for somebody as completely the opposite. You sighed in light relief when you felt him touching you and that only made him do it more, arm going around the small of your back and his forehead pressing against yours.
It was quiet for nearly a minute as you just stood there, your palms on his chest and the muffled sounds of a poem about grief coming from down the hallway.
âI canât do this.â His voice was so quiet that you barely caught it but it still made you frown.
âWhy not Eddie? Sheâs nice and she seems to like you.â It was hard to get out but you were trying your best to be supportive of him.
âAre you kidding me?â His eyebrows furrowed and he took a step back just enough so he could really see your face as you spoke. âI donât care if sheâs nice. I donât want her.â
The word he chose to emphasize wasnât lost on you and for the first real time, you let yourself think this might be about you. It was always in the back of your mind but that insecurity and fear of losing him kept it quiet, not wanting to let yourself feel any hope incase the disappointment that followed was too crushing.
âEd.â You sigh softly and rub your hand from his chest to his shoulder.
He leaned down to bury his face in your neck and you fully wrapped your arms around the back of his so you could hug him tightly.
âI canât watch this anymore.â He said eventually and that nearly confirmed it for you but you were stuck with that fear.
You couldnât bear losing him, not while you were still surrounded by the city around you that he stemmed from. It would be a constant painful reminder of the good thing you had lost and you were in desperate need of this good thing.
Eddie was one of the best friends youâd ever had and you would happily, although torturously, never be anything more if it meant he stayed with you.
That fear was even more obvious to you when he was picking his head back up to really look at you, your noses rubbing together in a familiar way but with an unfamiliar tension hanging over your heads.
You could see the moment he decided to risk it all and your entire body locked up.
âDonât Eddie.â You stopped him just as he was staring to shift his face closer to yours and his expression dropped.
He didnât move away right away but you could see the way it stung him. You frowned with guilt and brought your hand up to cup his jaw, grateful when he nuzzled into it without any hesitation.
He may be hurt by your premature rejection but he still craved your touch and that made you feel much better.
âItâs okay.â You shift forward to kiss his cheek as you hold his face. His eyes are closed blissfully and his hands tighten around you at the contact. âLetâs go tell them bye.â
It was awkward to go back out there together and tell them bye as a pair, your dates sending you and each other confused looks while Sarah gave you a long disappointed stare.
You knew she didnât mind the idea of you and Eddie together, in fact she encouraged it actively in the beginning, but she also was aware of your hesitance and she knew you well enough to know nothing had happened in that hallway. You were still choosing to waste the chance to spend a night getting to know a nice guy, just to go home with Eddie and stay in the same limbo.
You gave Zach a light hug goodbye but Eddie didnât even bother with a parting wave to his date.
You waited until you got on the train back towards his apartment to bring it up, both of you standing on opposite sides of a pole.
âShe was sweet.â You said softly and his eyebrows furrowed again for what felt like the dozenth time that night. âYou could have been nicer.â
He winced and his shoulders slumped at your gentle scolding, looking a little guilty. Eddie wasnât at all a rude guy, even when he got a little too rowdy to remember his manners. He was notably friendly and a good time so it was out of character for him to treat somebody so coldly.
âShe was nice.â He agreed casually and now you took a long pause.
âShe wanted to bang you.â
His face scrunched up at the idea of it as you both swayed with the sudden lurching of the train car departing.
âYeah, no way.â He was shaking his head in disagreement and you eyed the way his curls had gotten a little bouncier after a long night. âShe was flirting, yeah but.. I donât know.â
âWhy not?â You asked it with a tilt of your head like you were genuinely curious despite the fact you figured you knew his answer by now. He leaned back against the wall of the train car and crossed his arms, giving you a slightly disbelieving look. âHow longâs it been since you hooked up with somebody?â
It wasnât something you talked about even though you seemed to talk about everything else. You knew Eddie had a past of casual flings with a lot of girls, youâd heard it from Sarah after her first few times around Alex.
But you never actually saw the playboy antics yourself. He was at the college for a whole year before you even got there and either he had given up on the life style coincidentally as he became a sophomore or there was a secondary reason.
He looked just as thrown off by your question as you felt asking it although a little amused by the boldness.
âA while.â He admitted easily but he rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous, face just pink enough for you to tell heâs affected. âI donât know exactly but maybe a year?â
Your eyes must widen because he lets out an embarrassed laugh that sounds nothing like himself, like heâd rather be the first to laugh than to wait for you to inevitably do it.
âYeah I just⊠havenât been into it lately.â His eyes land hard on yours and you canât really find it in yourself to say anything in response, especially since youâre more than certain heâs lying with the weak explanation.
You lean against the pole and watch him carefully, suddenly very glad you had left the bar when you did.
âWhat about you?â
Your mouth parts a little in surprise, not at all expecting him to turn the question around on you. You havenât to really think about it which he doesnât seem to enjoy, frowning just enough for it to be noticeable as he shifts in place.
âA few months I guess.â You say softly with a light shrug, just a little bit shy with the answer.
You hope he doesnât ask you to specify because you really donât know how to explain to him that youâd been so pent up one night from the way he touched you that you had no choice but to go and seek other forms of release. It was somebody you didnât even remember the name of which was evidence enough towards how good it had been, not at all satisfying that craving heâd built up and actually just making it much worse.
Youâd heard stories about Eddie from random girls around campus, their faces flushing with embarrassment when they noticed you listening or passing by like you had some sort of claim over him.
You were curious about it both because you liked him so much and because you were his friend and wanted to know what exactly he did that made girls get so hung up on their time together in the bedroom.
He hadnât replied since you spoke, staring a bit blankly.
âWhatâs on your mind?â Your head cocked.
He shifted at the sound of your voice and moved back towards you, hand wrapping around the pole youâd been leaning on. It was just above your head so you were slightly caged in by his arm, eyes turning upwards to blink at him.
âHave you⊠wanted anyone since?â His voice had gotten a little lower and you took a second to glance around the train car and ensure nobody was paying too much attention to two college kids flirting awkwardly.
You stared at him through your lashes for a few seconds before your hand was rubbing over his ribs, smiling a little. âMaybe.â
He sucked in a breath at the touch despite how often he felt it and you watched as his eyes very obviously dropped down to your lips.
The train car picked the perfect moment to rock violently and you made a small surprised sound as it nearly threw you sideways, too distracted by him to remember to brace yourself.
Eddie barely faltered, more than used to the abrupt stops. He easily slid his hands around your waist to steady you and you gave him a quick thankful smile before you were realizing youâd reached your stop and grabbing into his wrist to pull him out onto the platform before you managed to get the both of you lost again.
âDidnât think youâd catch it this time.â He smiled softly at you as you walked and you rolled your eyes despite being overly fond of his habit to never give you directions.
âYouâre not that distracting.â You teased back but youâre more than aware of how obvious that lie is.
He certainly is distracting you in the following weeks as you get closer to summer and the heat begins to rise and rise.
To only make matters worse, the AC goes out in the boys apartment and Sarahâs dad sets out a strict âno boyâ rule when he catches Alex sneaking out one morning.
You heavily consider just ditching all three of them in favor of your college funded air conditioned dorm that youâd barely used since moving to the city but you feel a little too guilty and you figured youâd miss Eddie far too much while sulking away next to your dorm mate writing her boyfriend obsessive love letters.
So you join them in their suffering, all lounging around the furniture in various states of undress as you try your best to catch anything that resembles a breeze.
Itâs bad enough to be literally hot, sweat coating your forehead and making your hair stick uncomfortably wet to the back of your neck, but to also be a little warm under your skin from Eddie and his lack of a shirt was a new type of torture.
Alex was on the smaller side, body lean and just muscular enough to show some definition and you imagined he was the more stereotypical choice for the college girls surrounding you.
You however, felt naturally drawn to the way Eddie was built. He was so noticeably strong, defined arms and a round chest with enough hair on it to really make you start to sweat, and that was without taking in for account the slight softness of his stomach.
Youâd been spending the entire day trying not to look at the trail of hair leading down into his gym shorts, staring up at the ceiling fan as it did its best to cool you off.
Sarah was practically stripped down to her birthday suit, using a bikini top to keep some modesty despite the boy short underwear she had below it doing the opposite. Alex wasnât much better, giving up on real clothes completely in favor of some oddly tight boxers.
You werenât exactly shy about your body but you were overly aware of Eddie being in the room so you stuck with a small tank top and some sleep shorts, trying your best not to abandon another layer like the others.
Eddie hadnât moved in nearly half an hour, eyes closed and lying flat on his back like he was picturing himself floating down a lazy river. You glanced around the room at the other two who were also lounging out with soft heated groans, only the sound of Sarahâs magazine waving back and forth breaking up the silence.
Your hand lightly touched Eddies chest, still close enough to you that your knee was pressed against his arm as you sat with your legs crossed next to him despite the heat screaming at you to separate. It was a little damp under your palm but you figured you werenât much better.
âMaybe we could go to the beach.â
The words had barely left your lips before Eddie was shooting up off the bed, looking a little dizzy from the sudden movement. âGod yes.â
âCareful bubba.â You said softly as you lightly pressed on his skin to get him to lay back down for a second until the wooziness passed.
Sarah had perked up too at the mention of a trip to the beach, most likely already mentally picking out a matching bottom to go with her top. Eddie had taken your hand that was on his chest and pressed a light kiss to each of your knuckles, smiling crookedly at you when you sent him an amused look.
âIâm totally in. Beach day.â He nodded in approval and sat up again at a much slower pace, now face to face with you and rubbing your noses together until you let out a small laugh. âWe can use my momâs van.â
âYour momâs van is a piece of shit.â Alex supplied from across the room, still refusing to move in the heat even when Sarah sent a sharp swat to his sweaty chest.
It was in fact a piece of shit so it was hard to argue, especially as you stood in front of it.
You werenât sure how she had managed to keep her lot for as long as she had especially considering the van clearly hadnât moved in the last few years, coated in dust and making an odd rattling noise when Eddie hopped in and started it up.
He looked too excited for you to rain on his parade and you were still internally trying to impress his mom, talking to her quietly in the kitchen while the boys dug around in Eddies old room for an extra pair of swim trunks that might still fit him after making sure the van started.
âHe talks about you a lot. I figured he must be making you up.â She was clearly teasing and she immediately reminded you a lot of her son, down to the shape of the smile she gave you as she poured you all a glass of lemonade.
âAll good things?â You mused and you relished in the way she chuckled lightly.
âDonât be ridiculous.â Sarah scoffed from the kitchen table, youâd nearly forgotten she was there at all but the heat and unfamiliar sight of a rundown apartment had made her uncharacteristically quiet. âEddie couldnât even think a bad thought about you let alone voice one.â
Her teasing was already bad enough in general but worse in front of his mother, your cheeks turning red just as the boys came stumbling out in clear excitement for the road trip.
It was a bit of a chaotic start, all holding onto the prayer that the van would even make it to the first gas station stop. You felt a bit of relief as it rattled its way out of the city, especially since Eddie had confessed he didnât have a license and let Alex drive, giving Sarah shotgun after she sent him a sharp glare.
He was pressed against your side in the second row, a little uncomfortably considering the AC was barely sending out a light breeze in your direction but the windows being down on the open road helped cool off your skin just enough for you to relax.
You turned to look at him just to find he was already watching you, your nose brushing his as you both mirrored the otherâs bright smile.
âYou excited?â You whispered, trying to keep your voice under the song playing from the CD Sarah had dug out from the middle console.
âYeah.â He said it back just as quietly and you appreciated the imaginary privacy the volume offered. His hand came up to brush your hair behind your ear and then lingered near your jaw.
âIâve never seen the ocean.â You admitted and you watched his eyes widen in surprise, multiple emotions passing over his face like he had suddenly decided this meant something different than just cooling off in the water. âNot from here, remember?â
Eddie nodded slowly but you could tell he was sinking into thought now, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours with something close to determination.
If his goal was to give you the perfect beach day then he more than succeeded. You couldnât have had a better time with the three of them, barely getting the van parked before you were running into the water and falling into a pile of waves and splash puddles.
The chill of the ocean and the relief you felt had nothing on how magical it was to be with your favorite people, one in particular who couldnât stop smiling and laughing as he watched you play around with Sarah and narrowly dodge water attacks from Alex.
Eddie didnât last long before wrapping his arms around your middle and dragging you under the water with him, completely beaming when you resurfaced and pushed him lightly by his shoulders in mock upset.
It took hours for any of you to get bored and you stayed out there with him even when the other two had their fill and went to shore, opting for getting a tan and catching up on a book.
He didnât seem to mind when you wanted to calm down, naturally gravitating towards each other as you let the water move your bodies together. You held onto his shoulders with your legs wrapped around his waist, his big hands rubbing over your lower back and keeping you from drifting off.
The sun was setting as you talked in soft voices and let yourselves float in unison.
It was perfect and getting even better as the sun fully set and you retired back to the van, laying some blankets on top of it and feeling the cooling metal under your back as you laid down. Youâd almost forgotten how the stars looked outside of the city and away from the light pollution, lost in the sight of them and barely registering Eddie climbing the ladder on the side of the van until he laying down beside you.
You could distantly hear Sarah laughing softly at something Alex had said, growing more and more faint as you realized they were walking back down to the water.
âThink theyâll get married?â You whispered once you felt him settle next to you, his hand reaching between your bodies to grasp yours and let it rest on his chest so he could play with your fingers.
âWithout a doubt.â He answered easily, not needing any clarification.
âMaybe we can be their maid of honor and best man.â You mused. âWalk down the aisle together.â
You looked at him after the comment just to see his reaction, to double check if the image of you together in a wedding scenario had any effect on him even if it wasnât your own. He was always watching you with soft eyes, moonlight highlighting his freckles and the slight redness heâd gotten from the sun.
âYouâre always staring at me.â You whisper.
âCan you blame me?â He sounded so sincere that you felt a little embarrassed and it took a lot to not look away from his strong gaze.
âWhatâs that mean?â You shifted so you were lying more on your side and facing him better, the ocean crashing in the distance offering a welcome break between the silences.
âMeansâŠâ He laughed a little at your curiosity and shrugged his shoulders, searching for the right words to use. âYouâre so fucking pretty.â
You know youâre flushed now and you have to stare at the stars for a breath just to gather yourself, looking back and wishing you hadnât considering he has the same expression he did the last time he tried to kiss you.
Heâs closer than you realized, noses brushing again in that familiar habit of yours.
âEddie donât.â You whisper softly even though it pains you. âDonât kiss me.â
He freezes immediately and itâs much more extreme of a reaction than last time, embarrassment rushing over his face as he awkwardly shifts away from you on the blanket to give you some space.
âYeah okay.â He breathes out in agreement but itâs so clearly forced.
âWait.â You frown and sit up a little so you can see his face still as he moves away. âPlease donât be mad at me.â
His face softened instantly like the idea crushed him and he also sat up, resting on his elbow and bringing his free hand up to cup your face and lightly caress your cheek.
âHey.â His singular word was so full of affection that you almost fell on your stomach in relief. âIâm not mad at you. Iâm never mad at you but especially not for that.â
âIâm justâŠâ You have the sudden need for him to understand that youâre not meaning to reject him, a bit frantic as you finally sit up on your knees and touch his arm. âNervous okay? I donât want to mess things up so we just canât⊠canât kiss.â
He was silent for a long time as he stared at you like he was trying to understand, eventually nodding slowly but looking just a little bit frustrated and disappointed. You knew your reasoning didnât make much sense and you felt a bit sick knowing he might be longing for something youâre not willing to give.
âThis is why I wanted you to hook up with that stupid blind date.â You sigh and itâs a little bit of an over exaggeration because you probably would have cried for a month if he did but the meaning is still there. You didnât want him waiting around for something you might not ever give him.
âI get it.â He says it slowly like youâre a live wire which you figure you probably seem like one right now, rushed speaking pattern unlike your usual calm demeanor. âBut I donât want her.â
âYou want me?â You assume openly for the first time.
âGod yes.â He doesnât hesitate to answer, eyes staring into yours with devastating raw honesty.
Youâre not sure if actually hearing him confess it makes you feel better or worse but your stomach lights up with interest anyways.
You both fall silent, you because of the admission and him because heâs clearly shocked you didnât somehow already know that.
His hand is suddenly on your back and then youâre overly aware of how much skin youâre both showing. You lean closer to him when he starts to rub you in small soothing circles and then you let out a deep sigh.
âCan I ask you something?â You whisper and he nods before you even really finish. âYou said you hadnât had sex with anyone in a year. Is that becauseâŠâ
You trail off but itâs obvious what youâre implying, especially given the conversation youâre having.
Because of you.
Now heâs finally hesitating and itâs a long anxious pause before heâs nodding his head.
You both donât speak, donât even breathe, as his hand slowly trails up from your back to your shoulder. You stare closely at his face as he toys with the strap of your bikini that rest against your warm skin, still slightly heated from the sun.
âAre you going to take it off?â You whisper and itâs clearly all the permission he needs, eyes meeting on yours as he notes the soft nod you give him, before heâs letting his fingers push it off your shoulder softly.
He moves to the other one at the same time he fully sits up so youâre both half kneeling in front of each other, slowly pulling the second strap down and lean in to kiss your collarbone as he does so. You suck in a sharp breath and he falters at that, glancing up at you to double check.
âYou can take it off.â You say softly immediately, a little breathy. âYouâve been so patient.â
Clearly that patience had worn out because Eddie is quick to reach behind your back and undo the tie holding your top up, eyes locked on your chest when it falls in your lap.
He stares at you for so long you start to squirm uncomfortably and then heâs gently moving the fabric to the side and shifting closer so he can go back to kissing your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and your hands go to his curls, softly running your fingers through them as he kisses up your neck down to your shoulders.
âYou can go lower.â You encourage and you feel him lightly tense like the idea is a little too overwhelming for him.
Itâs brief though and he follows the light instruction soon after hearing it, his hands moving to cage both of your ribs in his big palms. He just barely grazes the top of your chest with his lips before you can hear a sharp laugh from Sarah down below.
Youâre both hit with the sudden realization of where you are and what youâre doing, your eyes wide with panic and he sits up rigidly.
You hear Alex next and that snaps you out of it, scrambling to grab your top and pull it over your shoulders. Eddie is just as eager to get behind you and help you tie it back up, shivers down your spine when his fingertips touch your skin.
âYou two okay?â Alex calls from below and you canât bring yourself to answer, grateful when Eddie gives a murmur of approval before helping you climb down the ladder and get the blankets back in the van.
You stay quiet until youâre back in the van, tucking your face into his neck and groaning softly as the embarrassment fully hits you.
âThat was humiliating.â You whisper once you pick your head back up.
âYeah a little bit.â He agrees with a soft smile and that only makes you let out another disgruntled noise before resting your head on his shoulder.
The car ride back is mostly pleasant if you can block out the thoughts of somebody having seen you topless but you feel a large amount of relief when the city skyline comes into view. Sarah gets dropped back off at her apartment before the boys find street parking near campus for the van, calling Eddies mom on the pay phone down the road to let her know youâd bring it back tomorrow morning.
You linger around the dorms before opting for heading back to their place with them, ignoring the pleased smile on Eddies face when you catch up with him and wrap your hand in his.
Sleepovers arenât that rare between the two of you so you can tell right away that heâs acting strange.
Heâs taking twice as long as usual in the bathroom and hovering around his dresser like heâs looking for something. Youâd changed into one of his shirts and a pair of shorts youâd left there before, the air much more chilled now that the sun is set.
You sit on his bed and frown at him as he stalls climbing in with you.
âEddie.â You call after ten minutes have passed and he freezes, blinking at you. âAre you acting weird because you saw my tits?â
The question lingers in the air for a few seconds before heâs sighing and facing you fully.
âOkay yeah.â He admits with surprising ease and you continue to frown as he finally comes over to sit next to you. âIâm just thinking about it.â
âMy tits?â You specify and now he winces at the vulgar phrasing.
âNot necessarily your⊠you know. Just the situation in general.â He supplies and you can only stare at the side of his face.
Itâs awkward for a handful of seconds before youâre standing up to turn off the lights, leaving you in near darkness outside of the orange hued lamp in the corner of his room.
âCome on, letâs try something.â You say softly as you go and lay down on his bed, facing the wall as you rest on your side. âGet behind me.â
You can almost feel his hesitation but he doesnât eventually, the position coming naturally to you both as he curves his body around yours. It feels more intimate than normal considering the conversation you were just having but you still reach back to grab his hands and bring them to the front of your chest.
You just hold them for a moment before youâre taking a deep breath and lightly pressing them against the fabric of your tank top.
He tensed behind you and sucked in air sharply through his teeth but it didnât take him long to relax and follow the instinct to lightly apply some pressure.
âI-it feels good when you squeeze.â You whisper softly, face warming up instantly at how vulgar it sounded. âSo donât be shy.â
That was all he really needed to hear before he started to really touch you, big hands cupping your breast repeatedly as you both laid there and took shaky breaths. You were making soft whimpering sounds which really didnât help the temperature as it started to climb against.
âMm feels good Eddie. Is this okay?â You whisper.
âGod yes.â He breathed out before pressing a few light kisses to your shoulders, his hands starting to get a little rougher now as he groped your chest eagerly.
âShould we take it off?â You nearly whine.
âIs that what you want?â He asks softly and keeps kissing your skin, moving onto your neck and lingering there as he waits for your reply. You nod immediately and he doesnât waste any type before shifting your body and pulling the shirt you borrowed over your head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.
He was back to touching you instantly and you both made a strangled sound at the skin on skin contact, his hands getting rough again as he pulled your breast apart before squeezing them together. His thumbs kept brushing your nipples in a way that made you start to pant and he shifted behind you.
âFuck I feel you getting hard.â You gasped and he made a nearly growl like sound, pressing his forehead to your shoulder.
His hips moved forward at the words on instinct before he was tensing and moving backwards like he was trying to avoid touching you like that.
âN-no I want you to feel good too. You can rub it against me.â You encouraged and it was mostly selfish, wanting to feel it so bad you could barely think.
He hesitated for a second before he was rocking his hips forward and going back to roughly groping your chest, his breath getting quicker in your ear as low grunts left his mouth.
You felt like you were on fire, stomach twisting in a coil of need as you tried to arch your back and rub yourself back with him as he moved almost feverishly.
The mixture of the two sensations was overstimulating in the best way possible.
âSay something. I love your voice.â You begged and you could barely recognize yourself and the high pitched tone youâd taken on in your pleasure.
âYouâre so pretty.â He was quick to murmur it out, kissing your shoulder slowly again. âFuck Iâve wanted this for so long.â
His hands were going back and forth between squeezing, lightly tugging at your nipples, and getting a bit more bold when heâd rest them on your neck.
You could really feel him now, your tiny shorts riding up so much there was barely any fabric to mute the sensation of him rubbing against you. He was hot and heavy, clearly large in size even if he wasnât fully hard yet which you figured he was judging by the way he was almost whimpering into your neck.
âItâs so fucking good.â You gasped out and he full out growled now as he picked up the pace, bed rocking. âOh god yes, keep humping me.â
Eddies movements were beyond frantic, moving a hand down to roughly grip your hips and keep you still so he could really grind himself against you. He swore under his breath and sat up abruptly, ignoring your whine so he could roll you over into your back and get on top of you.
You gasped and spread your legs for him instantly when you registered what he wanted, nodding his head and whimpering loudly when he rocked his hips against you from the new position.
Now you could feel his length right where you needed it most, your core so sensitive already just from the lewd way he was touching your body like it belonged to him. You loved the deep grunts he was making in your ear, foul words under his breath like he couldnât contain them anymore.
You made a strangled sound and clung to him, arm around the back of his neck as he kept you pinned down with a strong hand on your stomach.
âHarder.â You whined impatiently.
âFuck baby Iâll cum.â He groaned, shaking his head and kissing your neck so sloppily you got dizzy with the desire to have his mouth on yours.
He still listened to your request and started to really fuck against you, both of you panting and completely lost in the sensations as you chased the high of finally getting to feel eachother like this.
It was like you got thrown off the top of the mountain when you heard the familiar voice right outside the door, both of you stiffening as you tried to make out the words Alex was saying.
He sounded slightly panicked and definitely guilty but he was trying to tell you something about Sarah being in trouble with her dad and desperately needing a ride, asking Eddie if he could please take his moms van to go and get her.
Eddie sighed and flopped down ontop of you, waiting a long few seconds before he shouted out his approval. You listened to Alex walk away but you both already felt the side effects of being interrupted when you were potentially making a mistake.
You kissed the side of his face and he took the sweet cue, rolling off of you and tugging you against your chest while you tried to control your breathing.
âWe canât do anything with them around.â You whisper softly and you only realized after it left your mouth that it sounded like you intended to keep this up. âItâs too risky.â
He didnât reply for a bit and you figured he had noticed the same thing, only confirmed when he softly hummed in agreement and rubbed your arm supportively.
That turned out to be a nearly impossible rule considering your friends were always around. Sarah had practically moved into the apartment after the disagreement with her dad and you couldnât exactly give your opinion because it wasnât necessarily your place either but the small space was getting a little too cramped.
You spent more time at the dorm just to get a little privacy but you missed Eddie too much to keep away for long.
Alex had currently turned the entire place into a full fledged party, no doubt welcoming a dozen noise complaints from the neighbors. Youâd needed a break over an hour ago and you just now managed to get yourself away from the crowd, climbing out the window to settle up on the fire escape.
You were never surprised by how easily Eddie found you when you were disappeared so you barely blinked an eye when he was following behind you only a few minutes later.
He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth but he was quick to discard it as soon as he saw you looking.
âHi.â You said softly once he was sat next to you, resting your head on his shoulder.
âHi baby.â He whispered back, taking a sip from his nearly empty beer can before gazing out at the city with you.
âCanât believe you grew up here.â You said in a bit of a daze, truly content to have him by your side like this while you admired the view youâd dreamt of for so long. âDoes it get any less beautiful when you see it everyday?â
He was quiet for a bit so you dragged your eyes off the buildings to look at him, meeting his stare and smiling softly.
âGets prettier every time I see it.â He whispered and you knew right away he wasnât talking about the city, his gaze darting all over your face like he was committing it to memory.
You had to look away because you were suddenly feeling very emotional over the entire setting, resting your head back on his shoulder so you could avoid seeing his face again.
Eddie warmed you under your skin and it terrified you.
âIâm really going to miss it when summer comes.â Your voice is quiet and he tenses a little bit like heâd forgotten what looms around the corner.
Youâd considered staying in the city during the months you didnât have school, maybe asking Sarah to let you permanently room with her and even debating if you and Eddie were going to be at a place where you could just stay with him without it being weird.
You didnât think you were, in fact you had decided that it would be almost catastrophic for the two of you to be around each other every single day, sleeping in the same bed and sharing a space like you were something much more than you were.
And you missed your home town underneath the awe of the big city, thinking about it often as you laid in bed and wished for a break from the constant noise pollution and busyness.
âYou could stay.â Eddie whispered like he knew what you were thinking and he shifted so you had no choice but to look at him again, your knees touching and his eyes on your face while yours stayed downcast.
âAre you going to be here for me when I come back?â You tried to lighten the topic by ignoring his suggestion, not wanting to outwardly say that wasnât an option to you.
âOf course I will be.â He answered earnestly despite your attempt at a joke, shifting and rubbing your noses together while his hands moved to squeeze yours. âIâll pick you up the second you get here.â
âNot going to run off with any city girls?â Your tone was still teasing but you really hoped he would answer this one genuinely.
You were already depriving Eddie and even though it was his decision to not do anything with anybody else, you still felt guilty about your hesitance. Especially knowing youâd be far away and he wouldnât even get the small relief of feeling you touch him, getting to have you close to him still.
It made you feel sick to think about him with somebody else, somebody more permanent with their feet caught in the concrete streets you couldnât seem to get used to.
âJust you.â He says back and rubs your knuckles softly, bringing it up to kiss your wrist lightly.
You stare at him for a few long seconds with overwhelming fondness.
âMaybe you could come with me.â You whisper and he freezes.
âSeriously?â
âI donât know if youâd like it. Itâs a really small town and super outdoorsy.â You start to ramble to try and make yourself feel less embarrassed for the offer. Itâs clearly not casual at all to try and bring him back to your hometown for the summer, surrounded by your entire family and the friends you grew up with. âIâd just⊠I would really miss you.â
He blinks at you like he doesnât believe what youâre saying but the small smile on his face slightly eases your anxiety. He starts to slowly nod in agreement so you squeeze his hands and shift closer.
âYouâd have to meet my parents.â You remind him before he can confirm, wanting him to understand the stakes of coming along instead of just impulsively accepting because heâs desperate to be around you. âAnd my siblings and be stuck in the middle of nowhere.â
âIâd be with you.â He cuts you off and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth that almost makes you frown, a little overwhelmed by how much you like him.
You keep waiting for him to do something you dislike, to give you a reaction or even a quick glance that lets you believe heâs not this perfect guy. Heâs never angry or judgmental, heâs friendly and calm when itâs expected but knows how to have a good time otherwise and you can never stop laughing when youâre around him.
You think of the way Sarah constantly seems to be laughing with Alex, less sharp and intense when theyâre together. She loses the bite behind her teasing remarks like he steadies her internally.
It was on your mind now as you took the trip back home for the first time since you left it all those months ago, a nervous bounce of your knee thatâs immediately soothed by the familiar hand rubbing over it gently.
Eddie gives you a soft smile when you glance over at him appreciatively and you return it.
You didnât need to discuss the logic behind him coming with you because you both knew it was happening as soon as you mentioned it. Neither one of you wanted to be without the other for that long of a time and it soothed any insecurity of worry about what heâd be doing in the city while you were gone, although you were certain beneath the mean voice in your head that he would be on his best behavior.
He didnât owe you any loyalty but he had offered it so consistently that you felt comfortable expecting it.
The three months you spent together in your hometown felt just as magical as that day on the beach had.
Eddie fit in perfectly and despite introducing him as your friend to everybody, you could see the knowing looks being sent your way and you didnât bother correcting them.
It was a whole new experience to get to see him outside of the city he was born in, the furthest heâd ever been from it both in terms of distance and lifestyle. Heâd wake you up in the morning with a soft whisper that he was going fishing with your cousin, come home around dinner time with dirt on his pants and a proud, nearly boyish smile.
You felt a jolt of happiness as you stood side by side with your mom in the kitchen and helped her prepare dinner, your dad talking to Eddie the next room over as they flipped through your childhood photo books.
He came in at one point to give you a soft kiss on the cheek and ask if you needed any help from him before he ran to town for some household items, telling him you were okay and then trying to ignore the fond look your mom was giving you.
It was a new side of your connection, getting to almost roleplay a domestic small town life as you navigated the warm days and his constant presence.
You kept up with your search for something you could dislike about him, expecting it to show itself now that you were together almost all of the time, but you realized pretty quickly that it was pointless.
Youâd watch him interact with the older women at the farmers market politely, call Alex weekly from your home phone and update him on the more rural things heâd been learning with genuine interest, and play with your younger siblings endlessly until the sun went down.
It was pretty clear by the end of summer that you were in love with him.
There was still that frustrating limbo youâd put both of you in but you didnât know how to break out of it yet. You had wished he would just disrespect your old boundaries and make the first move but he was too good of a guy for that, backing up whenever his hands would wander a little too intensely.
He kept them mostly off of you around your family other than a hand around your waist or brief greeting kiss to your cheek but you felt the heat that still lingered when youâd be back in your room each night.
Your parents thankfully hadnât set any rules about the two of you sharing a bed even though you almost would have preferred that to the torture of having him that close but somehow still so far.
Heâd let himself be a bit more bold then, his palms that had gotten rougher over the weeks of outdoor activities would run over your bare stomach as he pushed your shirt up higher.
Youâd both stay quiet in the room any time anything happened like you were afraid to speak and scare the other, memories of that night after the beach where heâd touch you constantly on rotation.
His hands wouldnât go past your ribs and youâd try to ignore the disappoint each time he kissed the back of your neck and settled into sleep instead of going further.
It was a rough adjustment to go back to the city but you missed it all the same, especially your friends who greeted you both eagerly at the bus stop once you arrived.
Sarah had made a cute sign with your names combined on it, shaking it and jumping up and down when she saw you coming with your luggage.
Sheâd demanded that you spend the night with her so you could catch up and you locked eyes with Eddie as she dragged you away, feeling the ache deep in your stomach as you separated for the first time in months.
âYou guys didnât even kiss?â She looked appalled at the revelation, pulling back the brush sheâd been using to apply a face mask to your skin. Sheâd told you that the country air had made you look dry and ignored you when you said you lived in the suburbs. âAre you joking?â
âI donât know okay?â You groaned and went to hide in your hands before remembering the sticky substance all over your skin and throwing them down into your lap instead.
She gave you that familiar judging look, perfectly tweezed eyebrow raising as she gave you a once over.
âYou need to make a move.â She determined by the end of it and you sighed in defeat. âIâm serious.â
âI donât know if heâll want it still.â You shake your head and now she scoffs in disbelief.
âAre you stupid?â Her voice is biting but youâve known her long enough to know itâs from a place of support. âYouâre hot, heâs horny and obsessed with you. Obviously heâs going to want it.â
You thought about it non stop after that conversation because you weirdly were able to believe her when she said it like that.
All four of you went out the next night for drinks, celebrating the end of a summer apart and the start of the next school year together.
It was ridiculous how much you had missed Eddie after only a day and a half apart, sliding comfortably against his side as soon as you and Sarah got into the bar. He seemed just as eager to see you, kissing the side of your head a handful of times and bringing both arms around your waist so you couldnât go anywhere.
âMissed you so much.â He was saying it softly but it was loud enough for your friends to hear, groaning immediately while he flipped them the bird.
âHowâd you two only get worse?â Alex teased but you were in too good of a mood to be annoyed, especially since he wasnât necessarily wrong.
For the first time in a long time, you drank as much as they did. Typically you stayed sober and collected while they had their fun and you were quickly realizing how terrible of an idea it was to be drunk around Eddie.
You were ten times more wanting of his touch, constantly clinging to him and getting uncharacteristically pouty when he would leave to go to the bathroom or get another drink. He didnât seem to notice how extra affectionate you were being due to his own tipsy state, easily giving you the attention you needed like it was second nature.
You both went to the bar together at one point and it was clear to you right away that it was risky to be without the buffer of your friends.
Your hands were sliding over his ribs and you could barely make out anything he was saying to the bartender, thankfully not the pretty one from all those months ago.
He finished ordering and turned to give you his full attention, your chest pressed together as he lightly kissed your temple.
âYou know..â You were speaking before you even realized you were and his eyes locked on yours, a little less glossy than your own but still dazed. âI was thinking about that night in your apartment. The one after the beach.â
It had been months now but you both knew exactly what you were referring to, the unforgettable memory of his hands getting rougher on you and your whiny voice begging him to keep going before you were interrupted.
His eyes were darkening a little at the topic and you kept absentmindedly rubbing him, up his chest and then back down.
âYeah?â He offered back and you were nodding in confirmation, gaze more hooded when he let out a shaky breath and slid his hands onto your lower back so he could tug you closer.
âIt felt so good, didnât it?â You whispered and he was quick to mumble out an agreement that you didnât quite hear.
You pulled your lip between your bottom tip with slight nerves, the most you could still feel with this much alcohol running through you and offering up an abundance of liquid courage. He leaned down just enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth and your hands tighten where theyâd been resting on his biceps.
The bartender was clearing his throat behind you and sliding your finished drinks closer to where you stood but you both ignored him, a small pout forming on your face as you rocked on your tiptoes to hide in Eddies neck for a second.
âYou know I want you right?â You mumbled against his warm skin, thinking back on Sarahâs advice.
He tensed a little but held you closer, full on hugging you now as you rested against his shoulder.
âI want you too.â His voice was always so genuine when he was confessing something to you, a little innocent like he just desperately wanted you to know how much he liked you.
The bar area was getting a little too crowded and you felt a tinge of anxiety, sighing and pulling away from him to grab two of the four drinks.
âLetâs go back.â You encouraged and he hesitated before grabbing the remaining glasses and following you back to the booth youâd moved to almost two hours ago.
He set the drinks down before he was sliding into his spot and stretching his arm out like he expected you to sit next to him. You hesitated for a long few seconds, getting an eyebrow raised from Sarah that you took as encouragement.
You scooted along the wood until you were right beside him and then lifted yourself up and onto his lap, sitting sideways on his thigh and holding onto his shoulder so you didnât sway backwards.
His eyes widened just enough for it to be noticeable but he was easily wrapping his arm around your middle to support you.
âSorry. Just want to be close to you.â You explained to him and he looked a little choked up, nodding but not saying anything for a while.
You frowned as they all fell back into conversation even though Eddie was mostly just listening to the other two talk amongst themselves, his thumb pushing down the fabric of your jeans just enough to rub your hip.
Ten minutes passed before you were growing impatient again, taking a long sip of your drink before turning your body more and leaning down towards his ear.
âI want to talk more about that night.â You whispered and then pulled back to hold his gaze, his eyes curious and maybe a little bit confused.
Now it was his turn to lean towards you, lips brushing your ear enough to make a shiver run over you. âI think about it all the time.â
âYeah?â You were desperately latching onto this information. âWhat about?â
âJust everything about you. The way you looked and the way you sounded when I touched you.â His eyes were leaving your face in favor of going up and down your frame repeatedly.
You shifted on his lap just to get more comfortable as you turned more to face him but his breath hitched, pausing the way he was rubbing your hip to instead hold it tightly and keep you still.
âI loved when you touched me.â You whisper next and he reaches up with his free hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face a little more in his direction so he can rub his nose against yours in that endearing habit of his. âYour hands felt so good.â
It was quiet for a few seconds and you moved in his lap again, not necessarily meaning to but still drunk and wanting so desperately to soothe that ache that was slowly building between your legs the more you spoke and thought back to that night.
âYou got so worked up.â Your voice was getting a little whinier now and his breath was speeding up at the sound of it. âProbably wouldâve came in your pants if we didnât get interrupted.â
He nearly growled at that and you smiled, happy he was starting to crack a little bit the more you went on. Eddie was clearly doing his best to keep being respectful but you could tell how much he wanted to kiss you and speed things up.
You kept shifting and rubbing your thighs together and he swore under his breath, eyes going down to your lap. He snaked a hand between your thighs just to grip tightly and try to keep you from moving.
âSorry.â Your pout was exaggerated. âNot trying to get you riled up.â
âUh huh.â He kissed his teeth and sent you a playful glare, clearly not believing you considering the way you were acting.
âI wish I wore a skirt tonight.â You added and he let out a sigh at the idea, starting to rub your denim covered thighs instead of just holding them.
You were painfully wanting as he touched you, rubbing your nose along his jaw and closing your eyes to fully enjoy the way he was feeling you up under the table. It probably was overly obvious what you were doing but you couldnât find it in yourself to care about the others around you.
He helped you move so you were straddling him instead of sitting sideways, an instinctive move you both did without thinking.
His hands kept rubbing you, this time moving up and down your back with one of his palms going under your shirt to feel the bare skin.
Now it was impossible to not shift your hips a little bit on top of him, whining softly and burying your face in his neck.
âI-Iâm needy.â You confessed in a near gasp and he groaned.
âI know baby.â His voice was lower than youâd ever heard it and that only spurred you on, closing your eyes and kissing the warm skin you were hiding against as you started to really gently rock ontop of him. It just looked like two drunk people feverishly making out, or at least you hoped so.
You were getting more and more worked up the longer you sat there together, his big hands moving to your hips to help you keep moving.
âIs this okay?â His voice was shaky and you were quick to kiss his jaw lightly in encouragement.
He adjusted himself on the seat, sliding a bit lower to give you a tiny amount of privacy and keep you slightly more covered by the table top. The movement just pressed you closer against him and you tried to muffle your needy whine in his shirt collar.
âTouch me.â You were firm in the request and he didnât hesitate once he heard the tone youâd taken on.
You sighed in relief when you felt his hands leave your back and hips in favor of grabbing your ass through your jeans, back instinctively arching to give him better access. He massaged it softly just like heâd done with your chest all those months back, tugging you back and forth in his lap to keep building that friction.
âFuck youâre getting soâŠâ You picked your head up to look down at where you were connected, seeing the clear evidence of his arousal and locking eyes with him so he could tell how much the was driving you crazy.
His face was flushed like he was embarrassed and you noticed how overwhelmed he looked, slowing down and feeling a little guilty for your boldness before you felt him grunt at the lack of movement and furrow his eyebrows.
You hesitated for a few seconds to try and figure out what he wanted and then decided you were sick of guessing.
âYou want to rub it against me?â You asked softly, leaning back in to kiss below his ear.
âYeah.â He said immediately and squeezed your back pockets again. âFuck yeah.â
He started to slowly tilt his hips up to move against your soft rocks, trying your best to not be so obvious while also feverishly chasing after that feeling.
It felt so good to finally get him like this, under you and just as wanting as you were. You couldnât even contain yourself long enough to get to his apartment or even the bathroom, you needed him right now.
He was clearly getting overwhelmed again because his hips would jolt up against you like he couldnât control it, soft apologies leaving his mouth when youâd gasp or jump at the sudden movements.
Knowing he was just as needy as you was only making you burn hotter.
âFuck I wanna make you cum.â He almost whimpered it out and that was nearly too much for you, speeding up and letting your lips brush against his for a second before hiding back in his neck as you started to whine louder.
The friction was perfect, building up to the point you could barely even think about anything other than making him feel good with you.
âHump me more.â You whined, not sure it was even audible considering how hard you were pressing your mouth against his shoulder to keep yourself quiet.
His hands moved from your ass to the back of your thighs to keep you moving even as you got a little too desperate to function, the way you were bouncing growing sloppier now that he was pressing up against you at the same time.
It was getting to be almost too much, your entire body tingling with the need to get off.
You could vaguely hear Alex awkwardly announcing they were going to get a drink from the bar, forgetting they were even there and silently hoping theyâd get the hint and not come back for a while.
Everybody else around you was either too drunk or too tired to care about some horny college kids in the corner booth.
âFeel good baby?â He was speaking in a voice youâd never heard from him and that only made you speed up.
âYes Eddie yes.â You whimpered
One of his hands moved to tangle in your hair, forming a fist in the locks and making you gasp at the light pain that spread across your scalp. You expected him to immediately release it once he heard that noise but he was clearly too buzzed or too caught in the feeling to remember how gentle he normally was with you.
You couldnât complain, not with the way pleasure instantly followed the stinging sensation.
âKeep going.â You encouraged with soft pants, kissing alongside his neck. âIâm dripping.â
That seemed to really drive him crazy, like the idea that he was making you feel good was better than anything else.
His hand slid up under your shirt, rubbing your back and playing with the clasp of your bra like he was heavily debating taking it off. Youâd started to sober up from the drinks but you were beyond drunk on him.
âUh guys.â
You both froze but you didnât dare look behind you at Alexâs awkward cough, burying yourself in Eddies neck and hoping he could just teleport you home instead of having to deal with this conversation.
His chest was lifting and falling heavily below you and making your frame move in the process. You knew him well enough to know his face was bright red, only confirmed when you finally slid off his lap and glanced at him with mild embarrassment.
âYeah. Just friends.â Sarah quipped and you sent her a glare as she smiled and winked at you, clearly internally proud youâd taken her advice and made a move on him.
âSarah.â Eddie's voice was still low and hoarse, another shiver running over you at how affected he sounded. âWeâre just⊠tipsy.â
It was a weak excuse and a few months ago it would have hurt your feelings but you knew how much he wanted you, drunk or sober. He was clearly just trying to ease the tension and make you feel better about your desperate actions, a soothing hand landing on your thigh.
âWe should go.â He said next and this time it was specifically directed at you, facing you finally and squeezing your leg to try to encourage you to agree.
âYeah.â You were quick to nod and scoot out of the booth, grabbing his hand once he was standing beside you.
You both lingered by the table like you were trying to think of an excuse to give your friends that didnât make it so obvious.
âOh my god please just leave already.â Sarah groaned and pressed her forehead against the wood for a brief second to really showcase her exhaustion. âDonât talk to us until youâve fucked each other.â
Your face burned again at the comment and Eddie opened his mouth like he was going to try and defend you, stopped short when you tugged his arm and started to move towards the exit.
You walked in silence for most of the way, the night air thankfully cooling off how heated your body still felt especially since you could feel him staring at the side of your face.
Eventually you slowed to a stop under a flickering street lamp, avoiding his concerned eyes when he stopped beside you.
âIâm really sorry about that.â You said softly with clear humiliation. âI donât know what got into me.â
âStop it.â He said immediately and he cupped your face, tilting it back so you had to stare up at him. âItâs okay, I get it. We both were drunk and we really like each other.â
You smiled softly at that, how convinced he sounded.
âYeah? You really like me?â You whispered back and you were half thinking he was going to tease you back about your own feelings.
Instead, he was surging forward to finally kiss you.
It was desperate and full of all the pent up emotions youâd kept for the entire time youâd known each other, all the times youâd nearly connected like this but not quite gotten there.
His mouth moved against yours urgently like he thought he didnât have much time before you were telling him to stop like you always did so you made sure to eagerly lick into his mouth to make sure he knew just how much you wanted this too.
The heat from the bar came back with a vengeance, one of his hands instinctively going down to grab your ass tightly and tug you closer to him before it was resting on your lower back.
His tongue was rubbing against yours, coating your chin with saliva from how sloppy and needy it was on both ends.
You liked Eddie beyond words but right now you didnât have time for the big romantic confessions, not making love and taking your time with each other. You figured you could do that for the rest of your lives but right now you needed him to fuck you.
You told him as much between kisses and his eyes darkened, tugging you into one more deep makeout before he was whistling down a cab and nearly pushing you into the back of it.
You kissed like that the entire ride back to his apartment, barely making it out of the doors in your refusal to let go of each other.
Thankfully it seemed like Alex and Sarah had no plans to come home tonight because you barely got inside before your clothes were coming off, falling back on the couch and gasping when he was landing ontop of you.
Your hands were all over him as you undressed, running over his stomach and chest while he eagerly groped at your nipples again and finally took them in his mouth like heâd been so close to doing those months ago.
It was euphoric, feeling him rub against you for only a few minutes before he was getting too impatient and pulling your panties down your legs.
The way youâd been humping each other at the bar was enough to ensure you both were ready to go, your legs easily parting for him so he could line himself up and push deep inside of you.
It felt like more than just sex, it felt like a connection that youâd been waiting for all this time. You felt whole with him like this, filling you up so nicely and giving you that perfect stretch youâd been dreaming of.
You wanted to take a second to really appreciate him, get on your knees and worship his cock so he knew just how much you loved him and the way he was always so gentle with you. But you decided to wait until after he fucked you stupid, his hips already struggling not to move the second he bottomed out.
âFuck me, fuck me.â You gasped in a pant as you tried to get him to move, soaking up the low grunts he was letting out in your ear as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder and tried his best to not hurt you. âPlease Eddie, I want it so bad.â
âAre you sure baby?â His voice was still that cute nervous tone you liked so much, kissing your cheek so gently despite the heat of the situation. You were quick to nod your head and try to adjust yourself to feel him more and he swore lightly. âFuck okay yeah. I love you so much sweetheart, tell me if itâs too much.â
You wanted to focus on his words and let him know how much you loved him too but you couldnât pay attention to his sudden confession once he started to really move.
He was fucking you with shocking roughness considering how sweet of a boy he was but you couldnât have been happier, needing that pace after the year of dancing around each other.
It was perfect, just like every other day you got to experience with him before that and every single one after.
You didnât forget to make sure he knew just how loved he was by you afterwards when you were holding each other in his bed, soft kisses on his freckled skin as he flushed over your words.
You told him it constantly in the morning after, whispering it when you cooked breakfast together and writing it in each otherâs notebooks while you studied in the library.
There was no shortage of love in you for the city youâd dreamed of or the boy that had grown up with it.
"Published (number of works on ao3) written works spanning (lowest word count) to (highest word count) to a nonprofit international digital archive dedicated to preserving and maintaining society's reactions, impressions, and culture regarding various forms of fictional media."
You can also simplify it to "Creative Writer - Archive (dates) and then put "Wrote for a nonprofit digital archive as a volunteer."
Plus, if you have a lot of hits or kudos on your works, you can say, "I reached (number of hits) people and (number of kudos) of those people signified to the Archive that my work resonated with them."
Because, technically, we are all volunteering our time and donating our writing to AO3's cause of preserving the fandoms and the culture around them. And people do sometimes just call it "Archive". So nothing I just said was a lie.
If you're writing on Ao3, then you have experience writing -- which is the skill you're presenting here. In the long run, you're not doing anything wrong by phrasing your experience in impressive ways.
Contains: m orgasm, f orgasm, masturbation, nasty sex, public affection, public arousal, slight humiliation, simple behaviour, belt mention, f oral mention, p in v, cream pie, breeding/pregnancy reference
You were so nervous. You'd tried on three outfits, thrown them all on the floor in tears, then picked the first one anyway. A nice summer dress to match the LA weather and some low converse sneakers, with understated soft make up and your hair tonged into gentle waves. Lowkey but pretty. You were meeting Sammy at a dive bar before meeting his his coworkers for the first time.
Sammy met you outside. He was in his Ray Bans, which he tucked into his black suit jacket pocket when he saw you coming. Sammy straightened, loose black suit over black shoes, slightly baggy white shirt with the top few buttons undone and a thick black tie. His shirt was a bit tight over his tummy and it drove you wild.
Sammy ran a hand through his auburn curls and grinned as you approached, his eyes lighting up his soft, round face. 'God, you look beautiful,' Sammy breathed, holding you close against his chest before pushing you gently to arm's length. 'Wow,' Sammy whistled slowly through his teeth. His rough voice was low and gruff. 'You look so fucking beautiful in that dress. Twirl.'
You twirled, giggling and melting under his adoring gaze. Sammy's eyes dropped to your legs where your hem brushed halfway down your thighs. 'Fuck,' he breathed, pulling you close again, and began to give you a sloppy kiss. Sammy's tongue licked into your mouth, uncoordinated and wet on your chin, as his fingers dragged up the outside of your thigh. 'Baby,' he moaned into your mouth. You squirmed and tried to wriggle out of his grasp. 'Not on the street!' You giggled, even as he pulled you back roughly into his arms. 'Officer.'
'Uhhh say that again,' Sammy growled, his eyes darkening, and bit your lower lip. Hard. 'Officerrrr,' you purred. His large, meaty hand squeezed your ass cheek tight. 'We should just go home now,' Sammy kissed you again, softly against your lips. 'I need you.'
'What about your coworkers?' You asked, 'I didn't get all dressed up for nothing!' Sammy's brow furrowed. 'You got dressed up for me,' Sammy groaned. 'C'mon, baby, I need you.' 'You'll have me,' you smiled, running your hands through his hair and tightened your fingers, scratching his scalp. 'Unnfghh,' Sammy moaned into your mouth, 'please.' You loved feeling so wanted by him, he was coming undone without you even doing anything yet. 'Later,' you promised. 's-sorry... ' just can't help myself.' He followed you inside, one hand resting possessively on your ass.
It was going so well. You already knew Nate, and he helped you blend seamlessly into the group. Sal took you under his wing and challenged you to a game of pool. You'd never played but you wanted to join in.
'Sammy?' You asked, turning round, Sammy was close by, eyes already focused on you. He had watched with a swell of affection as you laughed with his friends, proud at the patient but sassy way you dealt with Dewey, even when he was an asshole. Sammy had never felt this way before, this primal need to have you over and over. 'Yes, baby?' 'I've been challenged to a pool duel,' you laughed.
'A pool duel?' Sammy snorted, eyebrows raising. 'I'm playing against Sal,' you explained. Sammy was half-listening, his eyes dropping to your soft, painted lips. 'Can you show me how to play? My whole reputation rests on this,' you told him solemnly. 'Of course!' Sammy stood quickly, dropping his beer against the table. Any excuse to be close to you. He couldn't help himself, he had never been so turned on by anyone in his life.
You were close enough to see his beautiful, freckled face as he leant in and gave you a kiss. As Nate made puking noises and you began to pull away, face hot and self-conscious. Sammy's face chased after yours a few inches. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before biting down on it, eyes looking up to the ceiling. 'C'mon, Sammy,' Sal barked. 'Are we playing or what?'
'What,' Sammy mumbled in response but, when you tugged impatiently on your hand, followed you anyway. As Sal racked up and went first, you followed suit and your shot was awful. 'Sammy,' you whined. 'Okay, I'm here, baby.'
'First, you need to improve your stance,' Sammy stood close behind you, and tried to suppress a sigh as his tummy pushed against your back. His fingertips ran up the outside of your thighs again, thick finger pads dragging against your sensitive skin. You squirmed as his hands reached your waist and he kept his big hands on your hips. One pressed into the bottom of your back and bent you over the table.
Nate snorted and averted his eyes respectfully from the view down your summer dress. As you lined up to take your shot, Sammy drifted his hands down your arms, still pressed tight against your back, and helping you take your turn. You managed to pot one. Granted it was a red, not your yellow, but you were so excited anyway.
'Good job!' Sammy praised you. 'You're doing such a good job.' 'I potted the wrong one,' you giggled, jumping up and down anyway, brushing between Sammy's hips. Sammy walked you to your next lineup, keeping his body pressed against yours, his warm breathing close to your ear. He enjoyed bending you back over the pool table, enjoying your involuntary sharp inhale. The fact everyone knew that you were his girl, the possessive exhibitionism of it, thrilled Sammy. 'Who needs soft porn?' Nate asked, swigging his beer and rolling his eyes. 'What are you talking about?'' Dewey crowed. 'This is fuckin' great!'
Sammy's squishy, round tummy was pressed against your back, his chest flush against your back. Sammy tried to hide a smell of your neck, inhaling shampoo, perfume, and you. Every time you jumped up and down in celebration, you were grinding against his cock. Sammy felt it beginning to twitch. 'Uhhh.... y-y... you're doing so fucking good.' Sammy mumbled into your ear, his praise tumbling out of him like a moan. You potted a yellow, not hearing him, and wiggled in celebration, clinking your drink against Sal's.
Sammy's cock twitched again, pressed against your thin summer dress. He tried and failed to stifle a whimper. 'Baby, you have to stop,' Sammy murmured in your ear, his voice rough and scratchy. 'Stop what?' You whispered back, confused. 'Thiiiis,' Sammy moaned, running his hands up and down your thigh.
You half-turned, laughing, and looked over Sammy's face. You adored those sparkling eyes with soft laugh lines around them, and the way the sun doesn't always reach into them. His aquiline nose nuzzled into your forehead. 'You just turn me on so much,' he whimpered. You kissed him, chaste because you were very much aware his coworkers were looking. 'Mmf,' Sammy moaned, trying to kiss you again.
He was semi-hard now, and was starting to worry that the hem of your dress was going to get caught and be held up by his cock. He wanted to stay hidden behind you until it went down so his friends didn't see, but there you were bending over the table again. You backed up to take your shot and his cock brushed the thin material between your ass cheeks. 'Hnngh,' Sammy whimpered, biting his lip. It felt so fucking good.
'Dude,' Nate laughed, ''think you need a time out.' 'Wha-', you twirled around fully, standing at the same time, and you felt a stiff pulse against your hip. Sammy was beetroot red, and mumbled something about needing more his beer. Retreating, he sat down on his stool. You could see he was visibly turned on, a stubborn tent in his pants which he tried to adjust. Nate snorted. 'Alright, alright,' Sammy nodded, hands held up in defeat and swigged his beer.
'Like a dog in heat,' Nate murmured into his drink. 'Shut the fuck up,' Sammy smacked his arm. Sitting across the table did littlento help; the neck of your dress opened a little to reveal the plump contours of your tits. The ones he desperately kneads when he's fucking you. The ones with sensitive nipples he brushes his fingertips across until they're hard for him. The ones he flicks, tweaks and twists until your jaw drops open.
Sammy was starting to sweat, and desperately tried to turn his whine into a cough, pushing his hard-on down. The friction of his hand, palming against his thigh, made it worse. 'You're seriously embarassing yourself now, dude,' Nate shook his head, laughing. 'Let the poor girl play pool. Let's down some shots.'
You stumble up the steps whilst Sammy fights with keys in his pocket. His face is furrowed a little as he concentrated, plunp lips pouting, and the smell of aftershave and whiskey rolled off him.
When he finally won the hard fight with the keys, you both fall in, giggling. The shots had given Sammy a little bravery. He took hold of your hips so you faced him, squeezing your waist. His eyes grazed across your body, finally settling on your mouth. You looked up at him with big doe eyes. 'Urghhh... Why are you always doing this, sweetheart?' he whined.
You had no idea what Sammy meant. 'Umm... what are you talking about?' You asked, eyebrow raised. It sounded like too many shots of JD talking.
Sammy pressed you up against the wall, bracing behind your head. 'Baby, you're so beautiful,' he whined, bringing your hands above your head and pinning them there with one meaty hand. Sammy leant in, pausing inches from your face. You made a soft moan and that was all he needed, kissing your open mouth.
They were slow, deep and intimate. You felt electricity sparking along your spine, and a heat pooking between your legs. Sammy sighed softly against your mouth, his lips soft and tasting of whisky. He gently bit down on your bottom lip, and when you opened jaw to moan, Sammy pushed his tongue inside your mouth. He swirled his tongue against yours, licking across the soft muscle with the flat of his. He groaned into the kiss, pinning your hands tighter against the wall. You push your chest against his, rubbing your tits against his plush chest. 'Fuuuuuck,' Sammy breathed. '... s'what I'm talkin' about.' You pulled away in confusion. As you started to reply, Sammy stepped forward, pressing his body weight fully against yours, trapping you against the wall. His knee pushed your legs further apart and he pressed his knee between your thighs.
'You know exactly what you're doing to me,' his face looked pained, and you genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. 'I'm not doing anything!' You replied. Sammy leant on his knee and gently pressed upwards against your mound, just a little, catching your breath.
'You are,' Sammy whined, 'you need to stop playing with me.' You planted small kisses along his sensitive neck, sucking under his ear. 'Look at you,' Sammy groaned, leaning into your hair and inhaled, shuddering with pleasure. 'Pressing against me when I'm teaching you to play pool, grinding your ass against my cock...'
'Sammy, I didn't do any of that to play with you!' You shook your head desperately. 'Making me hard in front of my friends...' You looked up into his eyes, his gorgeous baby face. Sammy rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. 'You do it to yourself,' you laughed.
''just turn me on so fuckin' much,' Sammy whimpered, 'I'm always hard around you. It's hard to keep my hands off you, especially when you look like this and you bent over like that.' You're flattered and flustered, unsure what to say to the compliment, but Sammy doesn't give you time. 'You must know what you're doing... you torture me! Skin so soft....' Sammy runs his hand up your silky thigh, 'Lips so kissable...' Sammy leans into you and licks across your bottom lip, 'Pussy so wet for me shit.' Sammy slid his fingers across your damp panties and inhaled sharply.
'Sammy,' you breathed, your hands still trapped above your head. Sammy's frustration began to build, and you could feel the outline of his thick cock pressed insistently against your inner thigh. The tip of his mushroomy head drooled into his boxers. Sammy whimpered with a quiet desperation to be inside you. 'Please take me out of my pants.'
The room's silence was only broken with your heavy breathing as Sammy let your arms drop, and the metallic sound of Sammy's belt buckle falling open.
Sammy let out a wounded groan as your finger tips danced slowly along the waistband of his boxers, through his short auburn pubic hair. You slipped your hand over his boxers and felt the smear of pre-cum across the soft cotton. Sammy's cock pulsed under your hand and he groaned pathetically. 'Uhhh... baby, please...'
Before you have chance to slip your fingers under his boxers, Sammy's meaty fingers wrapped around your wrist. Holding you there, he backed you up into the bedroom. As he guided you inside, he kicked the door shut behind him with his foot.
You let him whine in your ear, like a wounded little dog, before he gently pushed you down onto the bed. Your hand falls from his pants as Sammy climbs on top of you, holding himself up by his forearms but caging you inside. His face was red and he was panting heavily. 'You're just so fucking beautiful,' he wrapped his lips around the spot he knew was most sensitive on your neck. You melted beneath his touch.
Sammy kissed down your neck until he reached your collarbone and gently sucked along it. He knew it would mark you, showing the world that you were his. He whimpered louder than your moan, and he pressed his hips against yours. The metal of his open belt buckle caught across your clit as he moved, and you cried out. 'Baby, I'm so uhh s-sorry,' Sammy reached down and wriggled out of his suit pants. He ran his fingers over the cotton of your panties making soothing sounds, gently rubbing it better. He felt the slick from your want as he slid his fingers across you. Sammy was starting to come undone.
'It's okay,' you whispered, moving into his fingers. Sammy's meaty hand covered entirety of your warm cunt through the material. 'Oh shit,' Sammy groaned, ''is what I mean.' He pushed his boxers down as well, pushing your panties to the side. 'Baby,' you moaned, and sharply inhaled as Sammy slipped his cock between your pussy lips. His cock was so large, onlymhalf-wrapped by your folds, and he started to push up and down, fucking against you. Sammy groaned as your wetness slathered his cock, the fat head pressing up against your hard clit, over and over. 'Sammy-' you moaned, grasping Sammy's hair. 'Does it hurt? Did I hurt you?' Sammy sounded concerned, but he pressed his full body weight into you anyway, his round, squishy belly spreading against yours.
'The metal?' you asked. 'Mhmm,' Sammy was getting breathless, his face flushed red. 'No, it felt good,' you whispered. Sammy hissed, his mouth crashing into yours. It was rough and messy, and you could see Sammy's eyes were glazing over.
Sammy pushed himself down, moaning at the absence of your warm cunt wrapped around him. He tucked himself back into his pants and knelt onto the floor. 'What are you doing?' You asked, trying to look down. Sammy rustled through his pants and freed his belt from the loops.
He wrapped his thick arms around your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. Your eyes widened as Sammy produced his belt and lay it against you. The cold metal almost stung, your wetness sliding easily all over it, as Sammy pressed it between your folds. He gently tugged upwards, the warm leather following after to soothe the bite of cold metal, slithering against your hole. You groaned, your head tipping back. Sammy placed the metal buckle on your mound, pushing the hood of your clit back. Sammy groaned in anticipation as you tugged harder on his hair. ''m gonna make you feel so good, baby.' Sammy hovered over your cunt, his warm breath against your skin as he hummed. 'Oh fuck,' your toes curled at the framed exposure Sammy possessed.
Sammy gave an experimental lick of your clit. You moaned in pleasure as Sammy's tongue gently circled around it, swishing his tongue against the wetness in soft circles. 'Fuck... you taste so good.' The metal moved and the coldness pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves making your back arch from the bed. Sammy moved the buckle back, pressing his lips against your clit, and began sucking on it gently. 'Fuck... don't stop...' you panted, suddenly teetering on the edge.''wanted... do.... all night...' Sammy panted against your slick skin.
'Oh Sammy... shut up,' you whined. 'I'm so close,' your eyes fluttered. ''can't help.. fuck... t-taste...so good.' You wrapped your hands around Sammy's head and pressed him deeper into you so he'd stop talking and losing the rhythm on you. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding against his face as the tension in your tummy reached every inch of your body. Sammy began suckling on your clit, nursing from you again and again and again... 'Fuck... I'm cumming,' you moaned, back arching from the bed. Sammy didn't stop as waves of pleasure rolled through you, muscles softening and cramping, vision blurring white.
Sammy looked up at you, panting hard. Your slick covered his chin, and the metal outline of the belt buckle was imprinted on his face. He gently lifted it from you, strings of your wetness stretching between. 'Oh my god,' you moaned. Sammy went straight back to your cunt, licking up all your wetness. 'Sammy... am s'sensitive!' You tried to crawl up the bed, away from him, but Sammy held your hips in place. He buried his face further down, nose between your folds, as he licked and ate and kissed your cunt until your stomach was coiling tight. 'I can't,' you panted. 'Yes you can,' Sammy's lips spoke against your skin, before pressing back down into your wetness and humming, his tongue spelling out his name on your clit. Your second orgasm washed over you, and you felt your cum covering Sammy's face. He didn't stop, still eating away at you until you wiggle away.
''Can I touch you? Please?' Sammy begged, climbing on top of you. His rock hard cock pulsed in frustration against his stomach. 'Been s'good.' 'You've been so good,' and pulled him closer, licking his neck. Sammy groaned, reaching down and pressing the tip of his meaty cock against your hole. Your pussy fluttered on reflex, swallowing the tip of him in. 'Mmm, no...' Sammy shook his head. 'Stop... hnnngh - won't last.' He pulled out, before desperation took over him again. He pushed his head back in with a pop! and then slowly dragged it out again. You were writhing underneath him. 'Sammy,' you whispered, heat blooming in your lower tummy, 'more. Please.' ''can't... I'll cum too soon,' Sammy whimpered, pushing his cock instead through your wet folds. You moaned as your slick covered his cock, helping it to slide upwards and the fat mushroomy head pushed against your clit. 'Fuck,' Sammy was breathless, 'you're so fucking wet for me.' He began to rut against you, pounding against your clit. Humping against you like a dog in heat. As your breath began to hitch, Sammy stopped. You cried out in frustration.
''need you more,' Sammy slurred, twirling you round, so he was sat against the headboard. He pulled you into a straddle on his lap. Sammy's hands settled on your hips, ready to guide you. You leaned in and Sammy sloppily returned your eager kiss. He thrust his hips upwards and entered you fully for the first time on accident. You both moaned, and Sammy went dead still, filling you to the hilt. His grip on your hips tightened enough to leave black finger marks tomorrow, but he was beyond caring. 'You're so beautiful... 'n so fucking tight,' he groaned. Sammy began pounding upwards into you and you were breathless. His thick cock was stretching you out, almost painfully. Sammy would normally start with one or two fingers at least to get you ready to take him. The pain made your stomach flare. 'Uh... uhhh... huh,' Sammy grunted each time he bottomed out.
You kept a tight grip on his shoulders to steady yourself, your pussy fluttering at the merciless onslaught. 'Don't... don't do that,' Sammy panted. 'Stop or I'll...'
He lifted you, needing a second to stop his cock from quivering. Sammy shifted his hips so he was leaning forwards, his knees raised to keep you in place. The spot his head was bumping against made your heart race and your muscles began to tense. 'There?' Sammy asked, knowing it was the spot you really needed him. 'Just there,' you nodded. Sammy leant forwards and you moved to kiss him, but he turned away last minute, hovering his face along your jaw and then slowly down your neck. 'Sammyyyyy...' you whined, desperate for his usual affection.
'There...' Sammy grunted, his face screwed up from trying not to blow his load inside you already. 'Need you... want me li-like shit I want you.'
'I do-,' Sammy took the opportunity of your mouth open to drool onto your tongue. You felt butterflies as he pounded into you. You held your tongue open to show him his saliva pooling on your tongue. Sammy couldn't help himself, he was smashing against your face, swallowing his spit and giving you nasty, wet kisses. You tried to stop your eyes from rolling back as you twirled your tongue around his, biting down on his bottom lip.
Sammy focused on leaning you back against his knees and you looked down, watching his cock disappearing inside you and pulling out again. You could see a thick ring of your cum sticking to Sammy's pelvis, splattered into his pubic hair, plastering it to his skin. He pressed down on your lower tummy where he was filling you. Sammy tipped you forwards until he was hitting the spot you really needed, the one you can't reach with your fingers.
You lifted your hips up and down, meeting Sammy's halfway and grinding against him. Sammy let out a low gutteral sound, his hands still squeezing into the skin of your hips to help bounce you up and down into him. 'Shit... you feel so fucking good.'
The obscene noises of skin slapping against skin and his cock being milked by your wetness echoed in the room. You would be humiliated if you weren't so turned on.
'I'm gonna - hnnngh,' Sammy let out a wounded sound, around shallow breaths. You scraped your nails down his chest, drawing out a broken whimper from him. Your fingers danced over his sensitive nipples, and Sammy's balls tightened. You kissed along his jaw, sucking the sensitive spot he loved just under his ear. Sammy let out a strangled groan and his thrusts became sloppy.
'Mmmmf,' he groaned, eyes rolling back into his head and his jaw falling slack. You continued suckling on his neck, feeling his racing heart under the soft skin, and tasting the salt of his sweat. ''m gonna...'
Sammy used your hips to thrust sloppily into you, and you knew he was seconds away from spilling into you. Every time he buried himself inside your soaking wet, tight cunt he grunted and his muscles twitched. 'm gonna fi-fill.... fuck 'm cumming....' Sammy pulled your body close to his and held you tightly against his chest as his hips gave a thrust... and then two more.
Sammy let out a whimpery, wounded sound as he buried his face in your hair. You felt his cock throbbing deep inside you and you tightened your pussy muscles around him. 'Hnnngh fuck,' Sammy whimpered, his cock twitching inside you and let out a spray of hot, thick cum. It kept pulsing, wave after wave milked from his cock and hosing down your gummy walls, filling you with his cum like a fountain. Sammy groaned into your shoulder and you gently pulled his jaw until he was looking into your eyes. Sammy whimpered and his hips bucked again.
You began to kiss him, very slowly. This kiss was deep, intimate, as Sammy slowly kept grinding into you. His cock was starting to soften but Sammy wanted to make sure he fucked every drop of his cum deep inside you.''love you so much,' he moaned against your mouth.
Sammy shifted down the bed, auburn curls damp against his forehead, carefully making sure his cock never left you. He pressed you down on top of him, his thick arms protectively squeezing you tight. Possessing you. Claiming you. ''love you too, Sammy,' you whispered, trying to stay as still as possible to prevent his softening cock from slithering out of you. Sammy reached down to where you joined and scooped up the cum sliding down your thighs into his fingers. He began fucking his fingers back deep inside of you, beside his soft cock. The feeling of two, then three, fingers slowly pushing into you, scissoring inside you to cover every inch of your womb, touchingndown the side of his soft cock.
Sammy would kill to get you pregnant, make you a mom full of his kids, looking sexy with a swollen belly. His cock twitched inside you. Maybe you were right. Maybe he does do it to himself.
a/n: throughout the chapters, certain songs will be mentioned at the beginning or after a partition. the music is chosen mostly for the vibes and the melody. if the lyrics align, yay. if not, play along. but i highly recommend listening to the songs on loop for its section if you're a 'take-your-time' reader. idk, the music just adds some oomf to it.
summary: titus and you get closer, though there still seems to be unfinished business, and he's not taking it lightly. you thought chess would be easy. you were proven wrong rather colourfully.
warnings: mention of blood LOTS OF BLOOD, harsh language, gore, smut hinted, but not written (sorry) long chapter, but had to finish it cuz 1 game 1 chapter.
APOLOGIES FOR THE DELAY.
the chessboard sat untouched between you and sebastian, all the pieces neatly aligned, ready for a game that hadn't started. the room felt too hollow for how loud his voice had been for the past twenty minutes as he explained openings, pawn sacrifices, and the inescapable necessity of treating certain pieces as disposable.
you rested your cheek in your palm, with all the interest one hand in a math class, barely listening anymore. something about pawns, about strategy, something about how winning required you to take a few steps back sometimes.
his hand moved across the board as he demonstrated a variation, then asked you how you would respond. you didn't say much, just picked up a piece and move it, and for a brief moment his fingers brushed yours. it was purely accidental, but you pulled back instantly anyway, chair scraping slightly against the floor as you stood.
"i can't do this," you hissed.
sebastian didn't look surprised by your outburst.
"don't be ridiculous," he replied, leaning back. "and don't be emotional. you need to get over it."
you stared at him, genuinely appalled by how easily he said it.
"no," you said, shaking your head once. "i will not get over it."
"then you will fail," he said. "your emotions will get you killed. your sensitivity willâ"
you cut him off before he could finish.
"then i'll die," you said, voice steady in a way that surprised even you. your hands were shaking, but your tone wasn't. "but i'll still be me. i won't lose my soul like you."
you stormed out of there, stomping on the carpeted floor all the way up to your room, shutting the door with a loud crack.
for a moment you just stood there, breathing hard, hands still curled like you were expecting to be handed another lecture through the walls. then you reached for your phone, unlocking it too quickly, thumb hovering before you finally tapped on the person you'd rather hear. it rang twice
"helloooo" her voice came out like sunshine through clouds on a dull day.
"please tell me you have time for a video call." you begged, already moving to sit at your desk.
"for you? always. i'm like... multitaskmaxxing right now."
the call connected properly a second later. she appeared on screen midâpainting, a brush in one hand, her other hand holding what looked like a pantone card she was swatching. and there you were, sitting at your desk, applying electric blue nail polish to your toenails while being on call with meghana on your phone. chomsky made sure to videobomb his butthole every three minutes.
"he's just there now?" meghana asked after a moment, pausing her brushwork to squint at the screen. "like⊠does he live there?"
"not really," you said, glancing at the cat as he deliberately blocked your face again. "i'm sure he has a place somewhere. he just shows up here now."
"and you can't tell me why," she said slowly, "but it's just⊠unavoidable?"
"yep."
she hummed, but didn't push it, which you were grateful for in a way you didn't feel like naming.
"but you're okay right?"
you hesitated for a second. the words 'no, i'm part of cultist games, trying to outsmart literal satan and his lawyer, hoping i don't end up dead' almost flew out of your mouth.
"yeah... i'm... okay for now"
she spared you a concerned glance, then resumed her painting. you could hear the soft scrape of brush on paper through the speaker.
"well, if you need some chess tips, i can loan you my boyfriend's pdfs. they're pretty great," she offered.
"yes please."
"you're not that bad at chess. why do you need to get better?"
you stared at your reflection in the dark edge of the screen for a second, then looked away.
"i need to win. somehow. and if my plan doesn't work, i'll need to actually win at chess." you said, focusing on your pinky, twisting your foot accordingly.
"i don't know how you're gonna improve in a few days. it's a lot of combinations and patterns."
you flexed your foot absentmindedly, watching the wet glaze of electric blue nail polish catch the light. "oh, trust me, patterns are the one thing i'm good at."
there was a short silence where she clearly chose not to interrogate that further.
"what are you gonna do?"
you stared at the screen for a hot moment. "what i do best... memorise all of them."
you spent a good amount of time talking to meghana on your phone. you finished painting your nails and she finished painting her little postcard.
you were still mid-call when meghanaâs expression shifted slightly on screen. she squinted, leaning closer.
"okayyyyy," she said slowly, "i dont know if this is relevant or not, but like, there is a very dangerous-looking man in the background and i feel like i should ask if you're okay again."
you turned your head slightly without thinking, following her gaze.
"oh," you said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "that's titus."
almost on cue, footsteps approached behind you. he never really did announce himself. and it was his house anyway.
one moment the room was spacey and yours, the next there was his weight at your back. he leaned over you slightly, one arm braced against the edge of your desk, the other resting at your nape with an ease that suggested he'd done it a hundred times before without thinking about it.
his eyes flicked immediately to your screen. "what are you doing?" he asked, voice calm, but edged with something that made meghana visibly stop painting.
you didn't look away from the call. "talking to my friend?"
"what friend?"
you shifted the phone's angle slightly, switching windows so he could see properly. meghana waved hesitantly from the other side of the screen.
"that's megs," you said. "meghana. my best friend."
something in his eyes tightened as he threw half a glance at your phone.
"best friend," he repeated, like he was testing how the phrase worked in his mouth. then, without acknowledging meghana at all, he looked back at you.
"you're supposed to be practising."
"i am," you said immediately. "she's helping me."
his gaze narrowed slightly, shifting between you and the screen, trying to locate whicih part of your arrangement that made sense.
"her boyfriend plays in tournaments all the time," you added. "he's pretty good, so he's lending me his notes."
"hmm," titus said.
meghana glanced off-screen and then back at you. "i have to go," she said apologetically. "this is giving⊠mafia-coded."
you let out a small laugh. "fair."
"bye byeeee, love ya!"
you blew a kiss to your screen. "love ya! byeeee"
you ended the call, the screen going dark. you turned slightly in your chair, facing him a little.
"what"s in it for her?" he asked.
you blinked. "what?"
"your friend," he said simply. "what's she getting out of it?"
"nothing," you replied, without hesitation.
his eyebrow lifted slightly, like he didn't quite believe in that concept existing. you leaned back in your chair, meeting his stare properly now.
"she's my best friend, titus" you said. "she's not doing this for anything in return."
titus looked at you for a long moment, then gave a small, almost absent exhale through his nose.
"that's a mistake," he said.
"that's just what friends do, you know," you said simply, watching his expression carefully. then, after a beat, your tone shifted slightly, more curious than teasing. "titus⊠do you have friends?"
he scoffed immediately, too quickly. "of course i do."
you tilted your head. "name one."
he paused long enough for it to be noticed.
"ursâ"
"she's your sister," you cut in flatly. "try again."
his mouth opened, then closed again. nothing came out that seemed usable. after a moment of visible mental searching, he tried again.
"emmanuel macron and i play tennis sometimes."
you stared at him, brow creased. there was a brief silence where your brain simply refused to process what had just been said.
"right," you said slowly. "we'll⊠circle back to that later. but seriously? you don't hang out with friends? like go out? do normal things?"
he blinked once, unbothered. "i go out."
"what do you do when you go out?"
"business deals," he said. then, as if it were the most obvious continuation in the world, "buying guns."
you gave him a look. "okay,"you said carefully. "but what do you do for fun?"
this time, he didn't answer immediately, snd not because he was thinking of a better lie, but because there genuinely didn"t seem to be one ready.
you could see it in the way his gaze drifted slightly, unfocused for a second. like the question didn't have a category in his mind that could hold it.
he had parties. he had wealth. he had rooms full of people who would answer when he spoke and disappear when he didn't. he had excess in every direction. he indulged in lavish parties, drank and smoked till the crack of dawn, stashed on yachts or castles. he occasionally hired women for his entertainment and pleasure, but he wasn't going to tell you that now.
you were asking what softened him and there was nothing obvious he could to point to. his attention returned to you, sharper now, as if trying to regain his footing back in the conversation.
"what do you and your⊠friend do?" he asked bitterly. because you having a best friend?
he hated it a little. because this was someone who knew you differently. longer than him, maybe better than him. someone who got to see different sides of you that he hadn't yet seen.
"well, we go out for lunches, dinners, go out to bars. sometimes we do pilates together or play squash, walk around and sightsee. and we used to study together back in college, so we did assignments together. meet up with other friends and go to concerts. that sort of thing."
titus absorbed your response. none of it was unfamiliar in theory, but none of it was lived. he had spent his life surrounded by proximity without connection with people who were there because they were born into it, not because they chose him.
you watched him for a second, then your expression shiftedâsomething soft taking over, like you didnât want the moment to get too serious.
your fingers reached out, lightly trailing along his arm.
"danny boyyyy," you murmured.
his entire body reacted before his face did, hearing you turn his mighty surname into a nickname like that.
"don't call me that," he said immediately, but it lacked any real force.
you smiled. "why not?"
he didn't answer and you leaned in slightly, just enough to be a little unfair.
"do you want to go out with me?" you asked. then, after a beat, softer, "on a date?"
oh how his throat bobbed with discomfort, with the fact that he had never done any of that with friends, barely had any relationships that lasted beyond pricey gifts or hunts that cost them their life; in all his 48 years of gated life. all he had were stooges, footmen, business partners he didn't trust anyway, council members he had to tolerate. and his sister. and the devil.
somehow, the first few minutes of your 'date' pitch revolved around convincing titus to dress casual.
and clearly you two had different definitions.
you were sprawled across his king-sized bed on your stomach, chin sunk into a pillow, watching himâwell, making him move through his wardrobe. every item he pulled out seemed to belong to a version of him that existed in boardrooms, private aircrafts, or places where people didn't raise their voices unless it was to threaten someone or bribe someone.
"seriously?" you said, propping your chin up slightly. "you don't have a t-shirt and jeans?"
he paused mid-closet, turning slowly, "do i look like a man who wears jeans?"
you squinted at him. "you could be."
"sorry, baby," he said, already shaking his head, "but no amount of coaxing is going to make that happen."
you flopped back down dramatically, staring at the ceiling for a second like it had personally disappointed you. the silence that followed was him continuing to sort through options, and you occasionally offering commentary that ranged from "absolutely not" to "are you being drafted?"
eventually, after a few more failed attempts, he emerged with something slightly more tolerableâcargo pants that he apparently used for "hunting", which you chose not to question too deeply. but you did let out a squeal of success when he dug out a plain blue t-shirt.
"oh my god, wait," you sat up properly. "that one's good."
he looked down at himself, then back at you, as if trying to confirm whether this was a trick.
"this?" he asked.
"yes," you said firmly, swinging your legs off the bed now. "that. you look⊠human."
"i am human."
"yeah no, that's debatable."
he exhaled through his nose, but there was something almost amused about it now, like he'd stopped resisting the process and was just letting it happen for the sake of watching you be strange about it.
you hopped off the bed and walked over, adjusting the shirt slightly at his shoulder like you had any authority to do so.
"okay," you said, satisfied. "this is acceptable."
he watched you for a moment, then glanced at the mirror behind you both, taking in his reflection. he felt like someone else.
and as for you?
it was pleasant enough outside that you could finally ignore the row of dark sweaters and painfully serious shirts that filled your wardrobe and go digging for something you hadn't touched in a long time. there were a few older pieces tucked away at the back, things youâd bought in moments of optimism that didn't quite match your current life, and you lingered on them for a second longer than necessary before pulling one out.
light, lemony, adorable.
titus had been waiting near the base of the stairs, probably already halfway distracted by whatever thought had been occupying him five minutes earlier, until you appeared.
and whatever he was thinking stopped. not politely nope. justâfull stop.
because he had never seen you so yellow. pale, soft, ridiculous. that colour didn't belong in the dark danforth manor.
a two-piece set that read like a sundress if you didn't look too closely, light fabric catching against you innocently. your short hair rested just above your shoulders, like a 60's audrey hepburn.
and then his eyes dropped. down your juicy, tempting breasts snug in the fabric like citrus you just wanted to sink your teeth in. and then he saw your belly, bulging out just the perfect amount through the skirt. he went very still in that particular way men did when they were actively losing control over their instincts.
chester, he remembered, had ursula starve for days just so her stomach would flatten. young titus recalled his sister staring at his plate of food with tears in her eyes.
but you... and the real, well-fed flesh you had on yourself had a beauty so unashamed and natural...
he went from solid to gaseous real fast ngl.
"you're not going out like that," he said immediately. it came out flat, but not persuasive. not even slightly.
you tilted your head, a little frown on your forehead. "like what?"
"that."
you held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then turned and started walking ahead of him like the conversation was already over. "cope, my guy."
you had barely made it down the stairs of the manor before you realised titus danforth was not equipped with date-like qualities. the driver was already opening the door of the car when you grabbed titus' arm.
"seriously?" you asked, looking at the car. he did too, then looked back at you.
"what. it's a lambo espada."
"we're going on a dateeee," you dragged the words out of yourself, "not an auction!"
"what else then?"
"nothing of yours."
titus folded his arms, looking at you. "what, you got a car?"
"better," you smirked.
when you'd moved into the danforth manor, they'd brought all your things in, including your party-of-one vehicle that sat under covers in the danforth garage, ridiculously red.
a vespa.
titus stared at it. then at you. then back at it again. "no."
you smiled sweetly. "yes."
he protested, threw every pro-reputation argument at you, even got the driver in on it, and then five minutes later, he was behind you, sitting stiffly with a silly helmet on.
one arm clamped around the bar behind him and the other hovering like it couldnât decide whether to hold on or escape entirely. after a second of hesitation, his hand settled at your shoulder, gripping just a little too firmly. he wished he had two more arms to hold on for his life.
you laughed under your breath and twisted the throttle anyway. the engine sputtered to life with a little whirr, and then you were off, driving down the road with the morning air cutting clean against your faces.
there was a stupidly adorable ease in the fact that titus danforthâwho'd never trusted anything in life with two wheelsâwas readily going on a date with you on a vespa.
he slowly got the hang of it when you hit the smooth city road. he even took his hand off the bar and placed it on your other shoulder.
âŹâ.Ë tum se hi; pritam, mohit chauhan, irshad kamil
hartford felt so different, always so fresh. it was quieter in a lived-in way, people actually going somewhere with purpose, no selfish displays of wealth and entitlement. the pavements were uneven or broken in places, the brickwork on art deco buildings added to the city's character.
you parked the vespa a little awkwardly by the two-wheeler parking space, hopped off first, and immediately reached back without thinking. your fingers found titusâs hand before heâd even fully dismounted. it was instinctive toyou. he didn't fucking hesitate in grabbing your hand tightly.
and he followed you like that, looking like a man who'd never seen a footpath before as you led him toward a small college coffee cart tucked between two buildings. it was truly unimpressive. just a guy and a stall, hadnwritten chalkboard menu, and sleep deprived yale students slouched in their hoodies clutching coffees and yawns in both hands.
"they have one of the best iced coffees, trust me. nothing like it to start the day."
titus looked at the setup, then at the paper cups, then at the price board. his expression flattened slightly. "this is cheap."
"silence, rich boy," you pressed your index finger over his lips and trotted away to order for the two of you.
he watched you more than he watched anything else after that. watched the way you spoke to the barista like you knew him, the way you stood slightly on your toes when you were excited, the way your shoulders loosened the moment you were out of the estate's orbit. there was something almost disarming about it for him, like seeing a version of you that didn't have to calculate everythign.
you handed him his iced coffee and immediately pulled him along again, fingers threaded with his. hartford unfolded in front of you in soft fragments: old bookstores, thrift shops, little cafes.
you made him stop in places for no reason other than curiosity, pointing at things like a tourist. you'd already seen more than enough, but shpwing him, seeing it with him was a lot more fun, you realised.
though you kinda sorta exploded in the flea market, moving through different racks, flipping through jackets and frowning wherever there were rhinestones, holding things up against his beefy chest with zero care. titus just stood there like all this was beneath him. it was. but it didn't matter as long as your hand found his.
you discovered a diy friendship bracelet table and the inner craft girlie in you popped out like a gift card. you grabbed a few beads, some coloured thread, and assembled a nice bracelet. he'd lean in to see what you were up to and you pulled it away from his gaze.
and when you were done, you tied it around his wrist without asking, right under his morbidly expensive patek philippe watch.
titus looked down at the alphabet beads. "king of my â„ïž"
good god. the man had cultivated his taste for all things elegant and branded. but he'd be lying if his gilded heart didn't flutter at the sight of such an innocent gift.
he didn't interrupt that version of you.
not when you let him buy you a bunch of earrings, not when you snapped a hundred pictures of the city, of him, of you and him, and most certainly not when you held his hand till it was drenched with sweat.
he didnt' stop you when you strolled into a bookstore and decided you'd live there for the next hour. he wtached you browse and browse, handle every book that piqued your interest with care. watched you cringe at those typical tech bro self help books that all sounded robotic and prescribed a cold bath every third page.
funny. every time he'd taken out a woman for dinner or drinks in his past, he ran on the same script, for himself and them. the same superficiality, mentions of friends of friends, who fucked whom, he said she saids that he had grown accustomed to.
so how was he supposed to just 'be on a date' with you? a woman who didn't come from his background, whose privileges started and ended at affordable public transport. you whose definition of fun ranged from having drinks at a club to reading in silence or napping.
what exactly was a danforth supposed to do on a date?
you snapped your fingers at him, holding a book in your hand and a smirk on your face. "wanna read smut to me?"
"what?" he asked, taking a step closer. "reading what?"
"smut."
"and what's that..."
you flipped open a few pages of some vibrant book, snickering to yourself. then held it to him.
titus squinted at the text, his neck creaking back and forth till he sighed and pulled out reading glasses from a case in his pockets.
"oh my god, you have readers?" you gawked.
"don't."
"fuck, that's hot. put 'em on."
he looked at you once, then holding your stare, put on his black, thick rimmed reading glasses.
he watched you lick and purse your lips, which pleased him immensely. "like what you see, baby?"
"uh huh..." you said, dazed. that man... was sincerely, sinfully, devilishly handsome with glasses on.
titus picked up the book in his hand, going over a few words, before he realised what absolute filth this was. he looked at you once, at your eagerness, and he shook his head.
"dirty girl, y/n... you get off on this?" he clicked his teeth.
"can't i have guilty pleasures?"
titus took a few more steps towards you, cornering you against a bookshelf.
he cleared his throat. "it was messy and aggressive, with teeth clashing, and biting your lower lip. he poured all his dominant energy into that kiss. his tongue plundered your mouth."
"the fuck is this?" he asked, letting out a scoff.
you clamped your mouth, laughter slipping out in odd bursts.
"with a swift movement, he pulled you close, the head of his cock nudging insistently at your entrance. he groaned deeply as he sank into your heat... jesus, sweetheart, why do you read this?" he groaned, closing the book shut and putting it on top of some other shelf.
you chuckled as he spun you around so you could leave. "you read well!!! can you narrate an erotica for me?"
"no."
"why nâ"
"i'd rather just fuck you, you know," he murmured in your ear, leading you to another aisle.
at last, you left the store with a bag full of books, ranting about how much you wanted to start reading olivia laing, clarice lispector, and anaĂŻs nin.
hands entwined as you walked on the footpath, you looked at him with almost a childlike earnestness. "we should go watch a movie!"
titus blinked at you. "a movie."
you nodded and he looked like he was about to argue purely out of habit, then didn't. instead, he just followed you again, still holding your hand as you dragged him through hartford streets with urgency. the cinema was nothing like anything he was used to. no private screening rooms, no velvet ropes, no staff who already knew his preferences before he arrived. just a slightly faded marquee, a queue at the counter, and posters taped in glass fogged up frames.
you were leaning against the ticket booth, arms folded over a counter that was probably way too unclean, pointing at a screen, selecting seats.
and there he was, someone who had funded cannes on behalf of his father, knew most celebrities on a first-name basis, always received invited to premieres and private screenings that he ignored.
titus didn't know where to place himself in your life.
he felt bothered, a little insecure standing beside you at the ticket booth as you chatted with the clerk. he felt out of character. undeserved of this casualty. that he couldn't have romance without the haunting strings attached, dipped in blood, mr le bail's rotten hand over his shoulder telling him it's not real. just a hallucination. just a taste, never a satiating meal.
you held two tickets in your hand, grabbing his and leading him inside. he took slowly steps behind you, felt people brush past his shoulder and somehow didn't feel the need to dislocate them. that man had never 'struggled' to reach a seat, and now he was wading through a crowd to get to one, popcorn spilling at his feet, crushed under his boot as people scurried to get to their seats.
the discomfort registered in him, that being a part of your world meant being a part of the world. you didn't hide yourself away from the ordinary, the pale, the boring. and you didn't monopolise the good, the fun. you let it crash together like waves and let the sand beneath your feet slip from time to time. you didn't mind if life got a little hard or greasy.
titus wasn't sure he'd ever be able to live without the privileges he had. without the absent accountability, convenience, without the charity of mr le bail.
there as the room darkened, he slowly realised how eerie it was to have loaned your soul to the devil, that a date with the woman he'd come to love couldn't feel unconditionally happy unless it was caged within the manor and wrapped in silk.
you caught his gaze lost in thought and placed your hand over his.
"you okay?"
his stare snapped back into place. "yeah." he straightened in his seat, suddenly unsettled by the thought that thousands of people had probably sat in it.
"what are we watching?" he asked hoping to be distracted by whatever sappy romance or heroic action thriller you'd picked.
"hokum."
"what?" the name sat unfamiliar.
"hokum."
"i heard you, what is that?"
"the movie."
he frowned. "that's a movie?"
"yeah."
sappy and romantic indeed, as titus sat through what unfolded itself to be a horror film. titus leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing at the opening scene with a kind of mild recalculation, mentally revising whatever assumptions he'd made about the evening. for a second, there was even a flicker of approval in his expression.
he glanced at you. "you sure you can handle it, baby?"
you shifted in your seat, shoulders squared like you were preparing for a lecture rather than a film. "dude, i'm not born yesterday. i can handle horror movies."
that earned you a small, amused exhale from him. his head tilted slightly as he watched you, deciding whether to believe you or not. "you sure? i mean, if you wanna hold my hand when you get scared or anythingâŠ"
you turned your head just enough to shoot him a look, unimpressed. "what if you'e the one who gets scared? big bad titus might fall for a jumpscare, you know."
he hummed, clearly entertained, then reached over, resting his hand near yours without quite grabbing it. "keep telling yourself that."
for a while, it was easy. you know how horror movies started slow, built up the tension first, maybe some eerie music to make you just enough uncomfortable. the anticipation of fear.
you found yourself leaning forward slightly at certain moments, eyes fixed on the screen, while titus remained infuriatingly composed beside you. he didn't flinch, or even blink at the parts where the sound design sharpened or the camera lingered a little too long in the dark corners of the hotel.
that irritated you ngl. but then the first proper jumpscare hit without warning, loud and abrupt through the speakers. your body jolted reflexively in your seat, breath caught in your lungs for a moment.
titus? he didn't move. not even slightly. just sat in his seat, eyes on the screen, almost bored at the predictability. when you glanced at him properly, he didn't look back at the screen immediately. instead, his eyes flicked down to you for a moment, taking in the tiny aftermath of your reaction, the way you were trying very hard to pretend you hadn't just flinched.
he leaned a little closer, voice low enough that it barely carried over the film. "you okay, baby?"
"oh shut up," you hushed.
a knowing smirk tugged at his mouth. "just sayin'. can always cover your eyes if you're scared."
the film wound down slowly, the final scenes cut to credits while the theatre lights began to rise. people around you stretched, laughed a little too loudly at nothing, gathered their bags and wrappers and started filtering out in small clusters.
you stayed seated for a moment longer than most, letting the noise settle back into something normal again, your shoulders finally easing after the tension of the last hour. whatever fear had crept in earlier had worn itself thin by now, replaced by a kind of tired alertness and the last bit of adrenaline buzz.
"i'm impressed," titus murmured, low enough.
"how are you so unbothered? that's fucked up."
he gave a small, casual shrug, like it was obvious. "seen scary things in life. done much scarier."
you frowned slightly at that, studying him. "no, but you're like⊠zen."
that earned you a faint exhale through his nose. his gaze stayed on you, steady and unblinking, as if the rest of the theatre didn't exist anymore now that the movie had ended. "you looked adorable," he said simply. "i heard those little squeaks."
"i do not squeak," you scoffed, the lie kicking in a second too late to be convincing.
titus didn't even wait for you to finish properly. he shifted suddenly in his seat and leaned into you in one smooth movement, catching you off guard and making you gasp sharply as he closed the distance, suddenlt in your fucking face. it wasn't rough, not really, but it was fast enough to jolt you out of your protest.
he tilted his head slightly, looking far too satisfied with himself. "see?" he murmured, eyes flicking briefly to your expression before settling back on you. "squeak."
you shoved at him weakly, still half-laughing despite yourself, heat rising to your face.
titus really liked seeing you flustered more than he liked winning any argument.
when you left the cinema hall, hunger was waiting for you outside. and you suddenly perked up, almost hopping in spot.
"oh oh oh let's have shawarma," you beamed. "i know the best place."
titus looked at you, up then down, eyebrow rasied. he had seen you focused, irritated, calculating, shaken in face of guns, but this version of you was something else entirely; impatient with joy.
he didn't say anything at first, just watched as you grabbed his hand again and started dragging him out, the decision made.
you drove through hartford with him behind you again. the evening air was crisper and filled with smoke from the traffic.
the shawarma place was small, unassuming, the kind of spot that looked like it had been there forever and would survive any apocalypse. the air outside was thick with the smell of charred meat and spice, the grill smoke wafting out into the street in warm waves. you ordered like you owned the place, talking quickly with the vendor, gesturing at extras, completely in your element. titus stood slightly behind you, hands in his pockets, watching the exchange.
when everything was ready, you led him to the stairs of a closed laundromat across the street, sitting down like you were on a picnic. shutters half dented, paint chipped, stairs dusty.
you handed him one of the steaming shawarmas and immediately started showing him how to unwrap it properly, turning it in your hands with practiced ease.
"okay, so first," you said seriously, leaning in a little like this was a lecture, "you lick the sauce off the wrapper. we don't let it go to waste."
titus stared at you. "what? no, i'm not doing that."
"come on," you urged, already halfway through yours, "it's an experience."
"no."
"so you can eat me out but not the sauce?"
"correct. you're tastier."
you bit the inside of your cheek, stopping the smile before it could stretch on your face.
titus looked at the shawarma in his hand; warm spices and roasted chicken and melted cheese, and something about the sheer lack of etiquette made it worse for him. but well, he was hungry.
the first bite gasted his flabbers. he paused mid-chew, expression shifting slightly as if his brain had to catch up with what his mouth had just loved. this wasn't fine dining or michelin star chef-made. this was street food and it was... just too good.
you noticed immediately, of course, watching him like you were waiting for the verdict.
"it's good, right?" you hummed, smug now, leaning back slightly as you licked sauce off your own wrapper with absolutely no shame.
titus didn't answer right away. he was still processing, eyes slightly narrowed as if he didn't trust how much he liked it. then, slowly, his gaze dropped to you again. at the way the tip of your tongue caught the sauce. a sight veeeeery familiar to him and titus danforth junior in his pants.
it was official. titus danforth had just been on his first date, with the woman he loved.
and while it ticked none of his standards, it exceeded them at the same time. you were magnetising. you could suggest he fall flat on his face and he'd do it because you told him so. you could make a stub of the toe sound divine.
and against all the reality of the games, the impending judgement day, titus let himself smile as he sat behind you for the third time, on your way back to the manor. he could see the estate in the distance.
he smiled as he recalled your excitement, your gorgeous yellow dress, smiled at how many books you'd bought, the movie, the shawarma, all of it. maybe he wouldn't mind doing it again.
ding! ding! ding!
your phone pinged from inside your bag, which you'd slung and tossed behind you so it wouldn't flap in the wind on the scooter.
curious and entitled, assuming everything belonge to you both, titus dug through your bag and pulled out your phone, checking the notifications on the lock screen. he blinked, rereading the name.
ursula: hereâs the dossier on the le domases. everything about their strategies is in it. we should be good for game day.
he read it agian. his smile dimmed slowly. the realisation settled in him like heavy gravity. you were still plotting. still hiding things from him and colluding with his sister. after he'd told you not to lie, you still did it.
then all the happiness and joy and warmth in him disappeared in a second. he felt the scooter jerk and come to a halt before the manor. he got off instantly.
"we should do this agaâ" you stopped speaking the moment you saw him, his face, and your phone in his hand. and oh how his eyes looked hurt and enraged. you kicked the scooter on its stand and got down, taking your helmet off.
"titusâŠ"
he grabbed your jaw tightly, thumb digging into your mandible.
"i told you. to not fucking lie to me." he snapped.
"i'm nâ"
"I TOLD YOU."
you'd never heard that belt of his voice.
"whatever you're doing with ursula stops right now." he hissed as he released your jaw, suddenly repulsed by your skin. then tossed your phone on the gravel, watching the screen crack.
"don't fucking treat me like i'm a child," he snarled and turned to go inside.
"titusâŠ"
he didn't look back.
"you can be mad at me! that's okay! just⊠please don't go where i can't follow," you pled softly, clutching your wrist, where the sigil reminded you of its implication. for a brief moment, he almost swallowed his anger back, but he hardened just as quick and went inside.
with the game approaching, you'd pretty much busied yourself with practice games, books, and youtube videos to improve your game.
but nothing dulled the pricking ache of knowing titus hadn't talked to you at all for three whole days. you'd been by his room, knocked on his door, sent him texts after texts, which he didn't bother reading. you'd even asked one of the maids to deliver handwritten notes to him, but she returned with a shake of her head.
the only other person who made the effort to hear you out was ursula.
"he knows."
she sighed. "how much?"
"he saw your text. the one about the files."
she rubbed her temple a little. "well, he hasn't done anything yet. so... it should be fine."
you nodded, looking downcast. "he's not talking to me."
she gave you a glance. "oh, you'll live. he's acting up right now, but he can't resist you."
"why can't he just talk it out?"
"he's titus. he'll break a few things, shoot something, pace around and then shut up."
her response did not do anything to pacify the unease in you. logically, you knew the time healed everything and that there would come a time when he'd re-emerge and you'd talk and sort things out.
but you also had the strong feeling that titus, when he was lost in his head, was an oncoming storm and everything around him would become collateral damage.
and if that weren't enough, what he had learned could very easily be passed down, ear to ear until it reached the lawyer and then... there would be serious consequences.
you were in your room again, dozing off over a pile of pawn and king endgame notes when a maid popped in from the servant's entrance, nearly sending you into cardian arrest.
"miss l/n, mr danforth has instructed me to inform you that he will be leaving the manor for a few hours. and that you are to sit in the basement while he's gone."
your heart sank. you felt it drop in your stomach. before you could ask her anything else, she disappeared into the walls.
the very thought of going back down there, ever since you'd found your father in the depths, it tortured you.
with your books and notes and a chessboard mat in hand, you hovered by his door again, leaning against the plank of wood.
"titus?" you called out softly. you could hear some shuffling inside.
"i'm sorry..."
more shuffling. footsteps paced inside. you let your temple rest against the door.
"can we talk? please?"
every attempt you made at reaching out to him was met with silence. so you trudged down down down the steps and into the basement. it looked worse than before. grimy walls, the familiar pale bluish green walls. some of your books were still there on the table; campbell's historical linguistics lay there collecting dust.
the typewriter had cobwebs between its keys. you couldn't breathe in the damp air.
but you sat on the stairs of the basement, enough to be inside, and enough to have the doors open. light from the corridors and stairwell kept you lit enough as you resumed going through the notes.
you stayed there for god knows how long, eyes heavy from exhaustion and body clicking every time you moved from one uncomfortable position to another. you didn't know if titus was back. you tried calling for a servant, for anyone. no one answered. you pulled your phone out to text him and ask him if he was back, no answer. the reception sucked too.
with very little choice, despite hunger and the need to relieve your bladder, you stayed there on the stairs. maybe this was the universe punishing you for keeping secrets from a man like titus.
mercies, you realised, were hard to earn when your actions made sure you deserved none.
the le domas estate was just as grand, 19th century house, lush green grounds and surrounding woods. had you been brought here the first time, you'd have believed the danforths lived here instead.
mr le domas called it an act of 'grace', inviting everyone to his abode for the necrofest. something about a last loving feast before he obliterated everyone at the house game: chess.
that was the first time you saw titus in a week. he still didn't look at you, just kept close to his sister.
you swallowed your anxiety. now really wasn't the time to mourn the loss of attention from tits danforth. (i realised while re-reading that i forgot to type 'u', and now tits danforth just sounds fucking hilarious. i'm keeping it XD)
"welcome to the third game of the necrofest," the lawyer stood before you, a smile on his face.
"there will be two pools of three. each player plays in a round-robin within their group and the winners of each match will advance to playing each other."
"wait, isn't that a lot of games?" asked mr silcox.
"yes."
"we'll be here all day..."
"correct. arrangements have been made for dinner if need be," the lawyer added.
thus, you and the others were led to what looked like an outdoor arena, with a chessboard placed on a table, two chairs facing each other. pure ivory pieces, silver lined board. a traditional clock that started the other's time when tapped.
mr le domas, being the host, took the first game. mr silcox sat before him, giving him a challenging glance, a bit too sultry for your taste.
really, just two old white men having a homoerotic face off.
"you both have an hour. mr le domas, i shall start your time now. good luck," the lawyer announced and pressed the clock.
âŹâ.Ëplaying townes; carlos rafael rivera
the game unfolded quickly, like disappointingly so. mr le domas played rather skilfully, patient and smug in equal measure. mr silcox, on the other hand, played messily, his development was nonexistent, and by the time he realised the centre of the board mattered, it was already gone.
it didn't take longer than 15 minutes. it was a clean, traditional win; london opening, very simple transitions. there were no theatrics at all. mr le domas had full control of the board.
you watched it all with a growing sense of dull detachment.
next, the match between cheng fu and mr silcox. really, just two picky players who insisted they knew what they were doing. mr silcox had tried to copy whatever he remembered of mr le domas, forgetting that he was playing black, and the squares weren't the same. so he ended up in a messy centre.
now, mr cheng fu was a bit better. but he lacked the confidence to take pieces. he just crowded his board, placing everything out, not securing the king at all, so when mr silcox captured his first knight, he flipped, grunted at the board, and as he kept on losing pieces, only got madder and slammed his fist on the clock.
their game was probably the longest, with neither using their pieces to checkmate. they just seemed keen on capturing and emptying the board.
"you ever want to just... put them in a pool with piranhas and watch?"
you turned to face a sour looking daniel, who'd slid next to you, nursing a fireball whiskey in his hand.
"they 'are' piranhas."
he snorted. "nah... they're sheep who think they're wolves."
"and you?"
he looked down at you, with a certain exhaustion in his eyes. "i'm no better."
"so leave..."
he smiled, looking at his father, who circled around the match, as if watching it from a different angle would make any difference in his victory.
"you don't leave a family like this..." he leaned in, whispering in your ear. "you just let it rot and poison you."
you kept your gaze on the board.
"you're taking this too seriously."
"well," you tore your sight away from the game for just a moment. "i can't afford to rot. i like my soul clean."
he chuckled bitterly. "mr le bail will get his hands on you. trust me."
"he hasn't yet."
daniel took a clumsy swig of his whiskey, feeling his muscles relax. "you really think you can win?"
you let out a soft breath. "i think..." then turned to look him in the eye. "i can make them lose."
he caught your gaze. "oh? not so... goody two shoes are you? talk of the town is you killed wilkinson on your own."
"it was self-defence."
he chuckled, leaning closer. "oh i'm not complaining. you did good."
you opened your mouth to protest or rather defend yourself when he cut you off, "his house game was backwater combat. brutal."
your breath hitched a little. what a funny thing retrospection was...
"i can't swim..."
daniel smirked. "see? you did us all a favour."
by now, the board had but the king and a few pawns left. but worse was that both of them were busy moving their kings away from each other, than just upgrading their pass pawns into queens. a whole hour went by just like that.
daniel had gotten you a drink, and you both stood further away from the crowd, watching whatever the game had become. his gaze fell on sebastian, who was studying the game like it had any value.
"what's your deal with him?" he asked you.
you sighed, kicking away a tiny rock by your feet. "what isn't my deal..."
he looked at you. "daddy issues?"
"daddy is the issue."
"so why are you playing for him?"
"well, kinda didn't have a choice. and..." you cast a pensive gaze over the scene before you. then at daniel, who seemed different from all of them. real enough, authentic enough to have a critical conversation with.
"...i plan to double cross him."
daniel raised an eyebrow, and let out a low whistle. "and they say my family is fucked up."
"it is."
he shrugged. "true. but you know you can't kill family right? you'd both blow up."
"so i've heard."
daniel studied you for a moment. he found no visible fear on your face. but also no numbness. you were in an inescapable situation, but you had enough resilience to have hope.
"i wish i had the balls to be like you."
you looked up at him, giving him a smile. "i think you already are..."
he smiled back.
the group matches had begun to resolve themselves in a steady rhythm. the last match of group 1 took place between mr le domas and mr cheng fu, which honestly was hilarious considering how much contrast there was in their play.
but you noticed that mr le domas favoured the london opening, which was solid, a little conservative, but effective. it helped him assemble the rest of his pieces.
cheng fu, predictably, struggled to keep up with it. his pieces drifted too far too early, his position collapsing not from a single mistake but from a dozen small ones stacking quietly on top of each other. and mr le domas didn't rush him, well, he didn't need to. he truly did play the long game, purely for the fun of it. to watch his opponent realise how trapped he was. and even though it didn't get to that point, you could tell he'd be ruthless at end games. that there was a man who could think a few moves ahead.
by the time the game concluded, there was no real surprise left in it: le domas won.
and should you win the games in your group, you'd have to play against a possible chessmaster.
âŹâ.Ëplaying beltik; carlos rafael rivera
the first group's match had finally wrapped. people drifted away from the tables in slow clusters. cigars were lit, glasses were refilled, and the le domas mansion inside, turned into a lounge-like sprawl where the day's victory and loss were already rebranded as conversational topics.
it was already around five in the evening, the light outside turning softer and heavier at the same time, catching on glassware and polished metal.
before you, titus finally took his seat at the board. he sat opposite francesca, but it didn't look like he was really with her in any meaningful sense. his posture sagged a little. you noticed of course, with an unwelcome jolt, that he didn't look at you right away.
it shouldn't have mattered, you told yourself that quickly. but it did.
he wasn't a grandmaster. not even close. he knew it, and you knew it too. whatever skill he had came from repetition under chester's idea of teaching, which had never really been instruction so much as punishment for each mistake.
he looked... so sad.
you realised, a little too late, that you had been watching him instead of the game. francesca, as it turned out, wasn't playing with much direction at all. she just put pieces wherever she felt they'd go and the lawyer had to butt in to remind her of the rules and limitations of each piece, so what should've been a 20 minute game at tops, ended up being dragged into the whole hour.
which, unfairly, was exactly what allowed titus to hold his ground. he didn't dominate the game so much as outlast it. and it tilted in his favour. but he didn't look too happy about the win.
pushing yourself up from the chair you'd warmed, you stepped down and took francesca's seat, her elbow bumping into your side as she slid past you. the contact was brief but enough to make you exhale through your nose, but you steadied yourself as you settled into the seat opposite him.
you sat across from him for the first time in a week.
"starting the clock, good luck," the lawyer chimed in, tapped your clock and stepped away.
you didn't play at first. you let the seconds tick by, loud in the absence of speech, loud in the absence of him looking at you.
"hey..." you said softly, eyes on him.
he didn't look at you. he didn't even acknowledge the sound of your voice properly. just kept staring at the pieces on the board. one week. one whole weeks of his silent treatment had truly upset you. you understood his anger in logic, but you had your reasons and if he wasn't willing to listen, well... what else could you do.
so you picked up a pawn and moved it forward.
so did he.
and from there, piece by piece, capture by capture, you let the game go on. and you could tell he was bothered and that his mind wasn't in the game at all. the board told you that: a record of two people still speaking to each other without using language. it showed when he left a bishop unguarded, or when he forgot to capture a pawn of yours, or when he let his king get cornered without any opening to escape from the check that was coming.
it wasn't that he was playing badly. but he was playing like someone who didnât quite care whether he won.
so he showed no emotion when he lost. he simply leaned back slightly, exhaled once, and stood up, straightened his jacket, already steps away.
you sighed, feeling yourself cave in a little. you did not like seeing him so hurt.
and just to rub salt in the wound, francesca slid into titus' abandoned seat like she had been waiting for the moment to inherit it. there was still redness around her eyes.
then she spoke, her voice bitter as a gourd. "couples fight all the time. me and madhu never did though. we were so much better."
oh this bitch...
you leaned back a fraction in your chair, studying her with a still calmness. then you smiled.
"tell you what..." you said, and reached forward without breaking eye contact, lifting your queen from the board, and placing her on the table, kept away from the game. a motion so unhurried and decisive.
the lawyer raised his eyebrow, but allowed it, mumbling about over confidence under his breath.
francesca finally looked at you properly then, her gaze narrowing. "whatever."
you were playing black.
so she opened with her pawn, pushed forward one square, having quite literally recently learned some rules and tactics from ignacio, who had stockfish open on his phone. you answered with your pawn stepping out two squares.
she responded by taking her queen almost immediately, planting it aggressively into the corner, angled towards the pawn that guarded your king diagonally. soooo not subtle.
you didn't rush to match her energy. instead, you developed another pawn. her bishop followed, sliding into alignment, doubling pressure onto the pawn her queen was already eyeing. you nudged one of your pawns forward again, just enough to threaten her queen's position, forcing it to shift or be taken. irritated, she moved her away.
it was clear... she was playing at you, not the board.
"how's your father doing?" you asked.
she scoffed sharply. "like you care."
"i don't," you replied evenly, "but i'm asking anyway."
you developed your bishops and knight while chasing her pieces away.
"he lost a kidney," she said after a beat, voice flat with resentment. "thanks for that."
well, she managed to take some of your pieces, especially one of your bishops when you left it hanging as bait, which she took it with a satisfactory smile.
"i'm sure he can pluck one from cold storage, no?" you asked slyly, giving her king a checkâŠand forking her queen and rook in the process.
and from there, you crowded her king into the corner, surrounded by her own pieces.
"do unto others, francescaâŠ" you moved your rook below your knight.
"âŠas you would have done unto you," you completed the phrase, taking your knight off its square and placing it on the third row, a clean, congested checkmate without your queen even on the board.
thus... winning over both the members in your group, you advanced to the final game; versus mr le domas.
this was one of my games on chess. com when my cousin was teaching me a few moves. I FORGOT I PUT MUSIC OVER IT FOR AN EDIT. but anyway, that's how it looks:
âŹâ.Ë labour; paris paloma
you had a few minutes before the board was reset, which you took by sipping a glass of water and standing still with your eyes closed. only in your head, your replayed every single move mr le domas had made, looking for patterns, favourites, weaknesses.
chess was the kind of sport that looked still and stationary from a bystander's point of view, but only those who played knew just how much they were sweating simply thinking of a move they may not even make.
even when you weren't playing, the mere thought of a game, of moves, or tactics, drew out the same fatigue from your brain as it played simulations of games internally, each one failing. you opened your eyes, facing a realisation that you might not win this one easily. you'd assumed mr le domas favoured the london, but it was just twice that you'd seen it. and you knew very well, one's an accident, two's a coincidence. not a pattern yet, so he could very much surprise you with a tougher, newer opening.
jesus your brain hurt.
you felt an unfamiliar hand on your shoulder.
"focus..."
in an instant, you swatted his hand away, shoulder burning at the recognition of sebastian's touch.
you marched right down and at the table, taking a seat prematurely, the chair scraping softly against the floor.
by now, almost everyone had left. it was night, dinner had been brought out and taken back in too. you were starving, teeth itching to bite into something lest you gnaw on everyone's heads.
mr le domas took the seat opposite you. he didn't bother with pleasantries. his eyes travelled over you in a slow, assessing way, passing judgement way in advance.
his family stood behind him, every single one of them looking down at you like vultures.
daniel gave you an apologetic look, being pushed to the side by his wife.
"do enjoy the feast," mr le domas said, voice sour, but courteous on the surface. "it'll be your last."
he leaned back slightly, fingers resting near the edge of the board. "i expected someone⊠better presented," he continued, gaze flicking over you again with disdain. "but then again, you can't expect that from someone so out of place like you."
his mouth curved faintly, not quite a smile. "illegitimate children always play at being part of the table. they never quite understand they are only ever borrowed guests."
the lawyer signalled the start of the game without comment, and the clock clicked forward.
you didn't respond to any of his statements. you attention was fixed on the board, on its geometry.
his expression cooled, and he opened with something that immediately broke your expectation.
not a london.
your eyes narrowed slightly as you registered the deviation, the structure unfamiliar enough to force a recalibration. you answered anyway, switching quickly, settling into a caro-kann defence from black.
but mr le domas abandoned comfort entirely and pushed into exchanges already, forcing central tension rather than allowing the slow build you had prepared for. little baffled, you developed your knight, even took the queen out early. but the placement was such that you were dealing with the possibility of tough-to-break pins and blockades. so that resulted in an early queen trade off.
he infiltrated your rank with his knight, giving your king a check and taking your rook. that loss forced your king to move and reposition, hindering any future of a castle.
the board felt absurd, rigged.
mr le domas may have been clumsy with his beer pong or gunmanship, but he was a terrifying chess player.
your game stretched for another 30 minutes. you only had a few minutes left before you timed out and lost. you stared at the board, then at the clock, then back at the board again. you stared at mr le domas, his sister, at daniel...
the pieces no longer looked like clean abstractions of ivory and silver. your queenless structure sat exposed in places you hadn't realised were weak until they were already being pressured. another file tightened here, another escape route reduced there. every square you reached for seemed to already belong to him by implication, by probability and foresight.
your chest tightened in a slow, unpleasant rhythm. the hand that hovered over your knight felt heavy. you could hear the faint tick of the clock remind you of your demise.
god, you tried to calculate, recall your notes, the books you'd read, games you'd played and watched. nothing cleared the fog in your head. every attempt to simplify your position only made it feel more crowded, so much that you felt the board shrink and shrink.
your fingers hovered near your pieces once, then pulled back without touching anything. even the act of considering a move felt like a risk you couldnât afford to misunderstand. your eyes met the lawyer's who sat there expressionless. you looked at daniel, who looked equally tensed, almost disappointed to see you lose.
you didn't have anyone to distract him or nothing to cheat. all you had was knowledge and it wasn't enough against a man older than you, expert at a sport that belonged in his family. you could feel your heartbeat in your throat now.
"scared? you should be," said mr le domas. and his voice echoed a thousand times inside your head, ears unwilling to tolerate that sound.
he shifted forward just enough that his voice lowered, not for secrecy, but for control. "do you understand what happens when people like you lose here?" he asked.
there was no need for you to answer. he continued anyway. "we're going to eat you alive. don't think you're living to tell the tale, stupid girl. your arrogant father thinks he can take what's ours. that titus danforth isn't going to forget it so easily. he's going to make your life hell. you think you've got him wrapped around your finger, please... he'll leave you for dead if it meant he'd get the le bail ring. you should've thrown yourself off a cliff. let yourself be shot or something. because it's only going to get worse from here, little girl, we're gonna make surâ"
squelch!
a deafening silence cast over the game as mr le domas suddenly stopped speaking... for there lay a knife lodged into his throat, a slow trickle of blood oozing out of the cut, and daniel's hand around the handle.
he met your eyes, both a craze and empathy in his eyes.
"you're right..." he said softly. "i am like you. but i deserve what's coming..."
he took the knife out, letting his father choke on his own blood, gasping for breath.
"you don't."
he stepped back, dropping the knife as his family shook him, asking what the hell was wrong with him.
"what did you do?"
"daniel!"
he just looked at you, giving you that same little salute. "someone's gotta burn it all down, right?"
there was no warning when it happened, just a loud explosion where daniel stood. a cloudburst of blood splattered in place of him like a fountain, bits of flesh raining from above. it splashed on your skin, across your neck, your torso.
you stood up from your chair, daring to take a step back. you couldn't believe your eyes. your hand clamped your mouth, trapping the scream that made it out anyway.
one by one, the le domases exploded into bits and pieces, blood and water, their panicked screams cut off by the sound of their skin tearing and flesh bursting at the seams.
red covered you head to toe as the entire family simply disintegrated in a matter of cruel seconds.
blood dripped from your skin and onto the floor. the chessboard, black and white, was now fully crimson, human flesh where pieces were supposed to be.
you couldn't bring yourself to breathe or gulp or look away. your eyes moved with pure terror, landing on the lawyer, who... well, did look a bit startled.
"well... guess you won," that was all he said before tapping the clock, with just under a minute on yours.
your breath was stuck in your lungs, voice coming out in a creak and stammer as your tongue tasted metal. your fingers moved with trembles to wipe off the blooddrops that hung from your eyelashes. you made the mistake of swallowing, your body not allowing you the grace of a nervous gulp without the taste of le domas blood.
your father's words surfaced in your head with unbearable clarity, as if he had spoken them into the same air you were breathing right now. weeks ago, you had dismissed it. that you'd be blown into bits and pieces.
he wasn't lying, was he?
your throat tightened as you stood there, the reality of what you just saw slowly settling over you as you felt blood run down your body. your knees felt briefly unreliable under you as they buckled when you took a step back.
was this⊠would this have been your fate had you refused to play? should you get caught breaking the rules you'd been taking for granted? fooling around with ursula thinking you were outsmarting everyone?
were you just one step away from being a puddle of red?
you felt your insides churn and twist uncomfortably, like they'd sensed danger and unfamiliarity on you. you forced yourself to swallow so you could free your mouth for a breath your nose refused to let go.
âŹâ.Ë hamburger lady; throbbing gristle (I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS CREEPY ASS SONG BUT I FUCKING LOVE IT)
fear, terror, nausea. they all blended with the one constant that had been feeding your emotions: rage.
rage for one person and one person only.
he who knew the system, and played it to his favour. he who knew the dangers of the games and still signed you up for them. he who sheltered himself from the violence, yet threw you right into it.
you took a few more steps back, your shoes sloshing against the puddle of blood.
you didn't pay attention to the gasps and looks you got from the le domas servants who watched you stride inside, leaving behind a long trail of blood. you grabbed one by her collar, coaxing which room he was in out of her.
he lay there, daring to bask in the comfort of a bed, of linen and silk pillowcases. his were the hands that took the lives of countless clueless patients, yet you were the one covered in blood. a little unfair no?
"are you happy father?" you asked softly, almost childishly.
sebastian jolted in bed, shoulders jerking as he hoisted himself up. for a second, he only saw the darkness in the guest room.
"i won" your giggle echoed in the still room like the rattle of a snake.
he sat upright, hands tapping on the night table for his glasses, his heart hammering inside his chest.
"aren't you happy?" you asked again.
"the fuâ"
"you're not smiling... why aren't you smiling?" you asked with a whine, slowly emerging from the darkness and into his sight as he put his glasses on.
soaked in blood, bits of flesh clinging to your skin, your head tilted.
"y/n..."
"you wanted this. you wanted to win. you're winning now!!! can you be happy?"
"what... happened? where are the le domases?" he asked, his voice lodged in his throat.
"they're fine. well... they're not fine. they're dead. but i won!"
sebastian felt his skin rise into prickly needles.
"what did you do? y/n, what did yâ"
"no no no no no NO NO NO. DON'T SAY THAT! I WON. CONGRATULATE ME!"
the rise in your voice made his spine go cold. he threw one leg off the bed to get up, but within seconds, you crossed the room and crawled over the bed, blood staining the sheets as you grabbed and shoved his shoulder back into bed. your fist curled around his neck.
"listen to you me selfish prick, you put me in this," you growled, drops of blood now falling upon his face, into his mouth and on his tongue as he gasped for air.
your voice softened again. "you're forgetting something, daddy... i... am not... a chess piece," then you giggled again.
"i can think. i can move. you don't... actually have puppet strings on me. so you're not truly in control here, are you?"
"y/nâhck"
"you... can't tell when i'll flip. blowing up looked great. should we blow up? i think we should," you smiled at him, pressing on his neck just a bit more.
his hand grabbed your hand, twisting it away and off his neck. but you slapped his cheek hard.
"I KILLED FOR YOU!! that's three now!!!" you smiled again, blood on your teeth. "i get that from my daddy."
"g-get off me... you sick child. you can't kill me, it's against the ru-rules," he coughed.
"no. no no no. i'm not going to kill you. not right now. we're gonna win. i'm going to let you win."
you leaned closer, so close that he could smell the blood and flesh on your skin.
"and then i'm going to take it from you."
and then in two zaps, you were off him, standing at the door of his room, now open, truly highlighting just... how... paranormally red you were.
"good night, daddy!"
slam!
the door shut, leaving inside a rattled sebastian, clutching his chest and checking his pulse, convincing himself that what he'd just witnessed wasn't real.
the next room you paid a visit to, you'd decided, you weren't going to leave until your purpose was fulfilled.
you banged on the door, fists blotting red stains on the wood. he didn't open, so you kept banging, louder and louder and louder till the hinges creaked.
titus swung the door open. "what!"
and then his eyes fell on you, blood-soaked, rage in your eyes, madness in your breath.
"y/n... what haâ"
you took a step in, shoving him inside the guest room.
"y/n, whose blood isâ"
"shut up and sit down."
titus didn't argue. he couldn't. not when you were like this. he slumped in the bed, looking up at you.
for a moment, you didn't say anything. you just ran your tongue inside your cheek, between your teeth, mouth pursing and pouting, and then spat a piece of flesh out, which landed at the foot of the bed.
"the le domases are dead."
titus' eyes widened.
"they blew up. can you tell?" you asked blandly, gesturing at yourself.
he gawked at you, taking you in. not an inch of you was spared by the ungodly amount of blood.
"do you want me to blow up, titus?"
"what?"
you grabbed his jaw tightly, a bloody thumb digging into his cheek. "do you. want me. to fucking blow up?"
he shook his head.
"then put your anger aside. and listen."
you took a breath. "i know how to beat the games so that neither of us die or lose the seat. i told ursula about it, and she agreed to help me win. and yes, i could've told you, but you... can't fucking keep a secret."
"i can keeâ"
"you practically advertise it on your face that you know a secret."
he shut up again.
"i can't risk breaking the rules before it's time. with you knowing the plan, it would've been impossible to make my victory seem accidental."
you released his jaw.
"if you still want in, you're going to stop whining about it. and if you want me to stop treating you like a child, stop fucking acting like one. next time you get mad? come talk to me. like an adult."
he gulped. not because he was scared or intimidated by your threat or by your seriousness. but because even bloodsoaked and shaken, hell traumatised and scary, you were simply divine, attractive to a sinner's fault.
you stepped back. "i want to live. i don't want your seat. and fucked up as it may be, i like you. too much. so don't fuck it up and get yourself killed."
you finally peeled off your top, your jeans, kicked off your shoes and discarded your drenched underwear. you left bloody footprints as you walked towards the washroom in the guest room, turning on the light inside and stepping in, leaving the door ajar for titus danforth, who was already undressing himself.
can you tell i watched obsession this week? T_T
sorry this took so long!!!! 1. i had a really long painting session because still life with flowers is HARD. 2. i watched the movie and immediately had to edit a scene. i fucking loved wishnikki's behaviour and though y/n can't ever compete with that performance, i wanted to see if i could make her creepy like that.
ps.: my flower study. oil on mount. 12x10" 6.5 hours so far and it's still not done.
again again again, comments are loved loved loved, reblogs are always welcome, all my ghost readers; u da real gems
summary: you're in need of the protection a husband can provide and titus danforth is the perfect candidate
pairing: titus danforth x reader
words: 4.6k
tags: 18+, mommy issues!titus, hunting and murdering, manipulation, SMUT, dry humping, p in v sex, unprotected sex (yippee), cowgirl, tit sucking, mommy kink, praise kink, pet names (good boy, baby, bunny), creampie
authors note: oooooh anon i love this and you and I agree wholeheartedly. i know we haven't totally met this man yet (because the movies not out) but i feel in my soul that he's a titty sucker, argue with the wall. HAPPY READY OR NOT 2 WEEK!!
edit: also in this series is - in sickness and in health
You and your family were a part of the Le Bail cult, the wealthiest and luckiest people on the planet. Everything at your fingertips and nothing you couldn't have. But now you're the only one left. Everyone else in your family has died, either in hunts or by natural causes, leaving you with all the family wealth and the family title. This, unfortunately, made you very appealing to the other unmarried men in the Le Bail cult and you were not interested in them or their advances. But these men were persistent and not used to the word 'no', and you knew you had to do something soon to make them go away.
During a hunt, you were presented with a solution. And his name was Titus Danforth.
You'd interacted with Titus at family events and weddings. He was self-assured in the way money and wealth made people, that he was untouchable. You knew from the hunts however that this was true. Titus was one of the most brutal members of the cult, proficient with his Horseman's Pick and deadly more with his bare hands. The other men would use guns and tricks to win a hunt, Titus preferred to be up close and personal.
You'd spoken to him a few times. He was charming, albeit a little awkward when you gave him your full attention. You got the impression that the only woman he interacted with on a personal level was his sister and from what you saw, she mostly berated him and ordered him around. That seemed to stunt him a bit socially, which he covered by being cocky, which you could tell was a mask.
Everything about Titus screamed 'validate me! praise me! pay attention to me!'. From what you'd heard, his mother died when he was young and the only attention he'd gotten from a woman had been from his sister, who didn't spend her time coddling him. Titus had been emasculated and his prowess on the hunting field had been his only opportunity to showcase his skills as a man. But you could tell he craved connection, personal and intimate, he just didnât know how. You were sure you could show him there were other ways to be a man besides killing something. Titus was severely lacking in warm affection and kind encouragement and you decided the night of the hunt that you could use that to your advantage.
You'd all gathered for a wedding and fortunately the groom had picked a Hide and Seek card. He was set loose on the vast, remote estate and the families spread out to hunt him down. You were hunting in the woods, armed with a pistol and a long blade knife, when your idea struck you.
You'd been tracking the groom through the woods and had found him at the same time as Titus. The groom had stopped in a small clearing to catch his breath and you could see Titus on the side of the clearing in the bushes. You left your hiding place first, approaching the groom behind his back when your intentionally placed step on a twig alerted him to your presence. The man turned around quickly, tripping over his own feet and falling back to the forest floor. You lunged forward to attack - much slower than you typically move but the groom didn't know that - and the man grabbed a fallen tree branch next to him and hit you with it. You let yourself fall to the side like the blow had been enough to hurt you, your weapons flying from your hands.
The man scrambled up onto his knees, raised the branch above his head to hit you again, and stopped suddenly when the pick end of Titus' hammer slammed into the back of his head. The mans arms dropped limply to his side mere seconds before his eyes rolled back and the rest of his body went limp, falling to the ground in a lifeless pile.
You looked up at Titus from where you laid on the ground. He was holding the pick's handle with both of his hands, the end of the weapon wet with the grooms blood. Titus' chest was moving visibly in the moonlight, he must have been running before he found the groom, and his shirt sleeves were pushed up around his elbows so you could see the bulging muscles of his forearms. The Horseman's Pick was a heavy weapon, most of the other men couldn't even pick it up but Titus wielded it with strength and precision.
"Titus, you saved me." You breathed, your words dripping with gratitude. Titus shrugged as he transferred the pick handle to one hand and held out the other to help you to your feet. You made sure to stand close to him, your chests brushing as you stared up at him reverently.
"Thank you." You said sweetly, making sure to get his attention. Titus stared down at you, to his credit a little confused by your reaction. Most family members would be pissed to have messed up the kill and for another member to get it instead. But you weren't pissed, you were thanking him and staring up at him with eyes that sparkled with gratitude. You broke the eye contact and looked down at the dead body next to you.
"One killing blow?" You asked, your tone impressed. You turned your attention back to Titus, expecting an answer. He nodded and you broke into a dazzling smile.
"Good boy." Your words were full of dark appreciation and you turned your head to look back at the body to feign nonchalance and to give Titus a moment to comprehend your compliment. You needed to be slow and careful with him, like a Venus fly trap luring in its prey before snapping its mouth closed. With your head turned you didn't see Titus staring a hole into the side of your head as the wheels in his head turned what you said over and over.
Good boy.
Good boy.
Good boy.
Titus unconsciously puffed out his chest in pride as your words settled inside him. He stood a little taller too, your pride in the murder he committed filling him up with sunshine, hot and bursting. You had watched him do a horrible, evil thing and was proud of him for doing it. You were praising him for a job well done. Your eyes moved back to Titus' face and you saw the faintest of smiles on his lips, which could have made you jump with joy.
The plan was working so far.
"Thank you again Titus for saving me." You turned towards him fully, rested your palms on his chest and pushed up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. It was quick and when you pulled back he looked stunned. You guessed that Titus, due to his lacking social calendar, had to pay for intimate company and he very rarely received voluntary affection. Especially not after brutally killing a man.
You smiled at him again, congratulated him for winning the hunt, and left him with his prize to make sense of what just happened between the two of you.
The next morning the families awoke to a huge storm that had rolled in and grounded their private jets for the time being. That meant the house was full of different families within the cult, everyone still buzzing from the hunt (except for the bride), and all cooped up inside. Everyone seemed to be getting along well, many people congratulating Titus for his kill last night over dinner and toasting to his success. You joined in the toast and smiled coyly when Titus made eye contact with you across the table. You maintained the eye contact even as you took a sip from your wine and set it on the table. Dinner continued like this, with you and Titus stealing fleeting glances every few minutes but never speaking.
After dessert you decided to retire for the evening and headed upstairs to your room. You didn't get very far down the hall before a man from another family stopped you. He didn't call out your name or announce himself, instead he chose to grab you by the arm to stop you.
"Hey!" You said indignantly as you wrenched your arm from his unwanted grasp.
"Sorry darling, didn't mean to upset you." The man said, laying on his charm pretty thick and flashing you an alarmingly white smile. You scowled at his attitude and turned around to continue heading to your room.
"Woah, woah, I just want to have a conversation!" The man explained as he darted around you to stand in your path. You came to a halt, still scowling at the man.
"I'm going to bed, I don't want to have a conversation."
"Bed huh? Need some company?" He asked, smiling widely again and leaning into your personal space. The last thing you wanted was to have this man join you in your room and you knew that he wasn't actually interested in you as a person. He looked at you and saw your family's money and what was between your legs. Nothing more.
"I absolutely do not need or want your company." You replied, your words cold and vicious. The man finally seemed to get that you weren't interested and never would be, which he took great offense to. He stepped forward, crowding himself into your personal space, and jammed a finger into your chest.
"Hey, there's no need for that snotty tone-" There was a blur of motion next to you and suddenly the man was pressed face first into the hallway wall with one of his arms twisted behind his back. Titus held him there, one hand with a vice grip on the mans wrist and his other hand on the back of the mans neck. Titus held him in place easily thanks to his strength and even though the other man struggled against Titus' hold, he never got free.
"The lady said no." Titus growled at the man, his voice low and harsh. His words sent a thrill through you, like lightning in your veins. You hadn't even orchestrated this situation, it had just happened and Titus came to your defense anyways. This was going to be much easier than you thought.
Titus pulled the man back from the wall and turned on the spot to essentially throw him back down the hallway towards the stairs. The other man stumbled but managed to not fall flat on his face when Titus released him and you took the opportunity to press yourself up against Titus, tucking yourself against him for protection. You rested your head against his chest, just under his chin, and put one arm around his back and placed the other hand on his chest. Titus didn't waste a moment to wrap a protective arm around you, further pressing you against him.
You could have smiled at the show of affection and defense from Titus, but you had to play the role of the damsel in distress so you kept your face neutral. The other man gained his footing and stared at the scene before him - Titus holding you close and you cowering against him - and he scoffed.
"I see someone else has already staked their claim. Fine. Enjoy her." The man turned around and left, leaving you and Titus in the hall alone. You looked up at Titus from your very warm and comforting spot at his side, to find him sneering at the other man until he left Titus' sight.
"Twice in as many days, you seem to have a knack for saving me." You commented, making no move to step out of Titus' embrace. He turned his attention to you when he was satisfied that the danger was gone and you watched his features soften when he looked at you. The anger melted away to be replaced with warmth and fondness.
"I saw him follow you, I wondered if he was with you." You shook your head at Titus' words.
"He's just another bottom feeder who's trying to marry me to absorb my family's fortune. He's not the first one who's tried and he won't be the last. Gosh Titus, what am I going to do when you leave? Who will protect me then?" You nuzzled your face against his chest, wrapping your arms around him fully to hug him close. Your heart soared when Titus wrapped his arms around you too without hesitation, securing you to him in a protective embrace.
"I've seen you take care of yourself." Titus complimented, his breath hot against the top of your head. You shrugged as you stepped back, trying to play a little hot and cold to keep him interested. You were thrilled when Titus held onto you until the last possible second, his hot hands trailing down the bare skin of your arms until you were out of his reach.
"I've had to take care of myself my whole life. My family was pretty cut throat and them being gone hasn't made it any easier for me. It's been nice to have someone who's had my back. Thank you Titus." You said sincerely. He nodded solemnly at you, taking your thanks to heart. You looked down the hall in the direction of your bedroom.
"I better go to bed. I don't like thunder storms and I can tell I'm going to have a tough time sleeping tonight." That was a lie and just like you hoped, Titus swallowed it - hook, line and sinker.
"I could keep you company if you want. Until you fall asleep." You perked up, smiling at him.
"Really? I'd appreciate that Titus. Could you ask the staff for some tea while I get ready for bed?"
"Of course." Titus headed off in the opposite direction of your room, on the hunt for a staff who could fulfill your request while you hurried to your room to get ready.
You didn't want to be too obvious but you also didn't want to be so subtle that you sent mixed signals. You chose a long, white nightgown made of lace and silk that was sheer in the right light. The neckline went all the way to the tips of your shoulders, showing off your neck and the top of your chest which would give Titus a bit of a show.
There was a knock at your door a few minutes later and Titus let himself in with two steaming mugs of tea. He closed the door with his foot and approached you where you'd settled for the evening in one of the overly large arm chairs by the window. You thanked him for the tea and gestured for him to join you in the other armchair. He took a seat, lounging back in the chair, the picture of confidence and easy comfort.
He struck up conversation first, asking you questions about how you'd been spending your time lately and how you'd been getting on since the death of your last family member. The questions he had were all curious and not invasive and you were honest with him. You volleyed questions back at him about his business and his family and the health of his father. You spent the next hour getting to know each other a bit better, the conversation illuminating and personal, making you smile and laugh as much as you listened seriously to his feelings and anecdotes about his childhood.
A sudden crack of thunder so loud it shook the windows interrupted your conversation and reminded you of your true motives for having Titus in your room. Before the thunder even stopped, you threw yourself to the ground, huddled on your knees at Titus' feet. Titus sat up straight, looking down at your trembling form as you pressed your face against the side of his thigh and tightened your hands around his pant leg. Titus set his tea aside and ran his hand over the top of your head, petting your hair in comfort which did relax you.
While you were playing it up a little bit, it did feel nice to put your worries into someone elseâs hands. Having Titus there to watch your back, and comfort and protect you, and tell you everything would be alright was something you didnât know you needed. Youâd always took care of yourself, always made sure to be wrapped in barbed wire and steel as a way for protecting yourself, especially after you became the last member of the family standing. It was a lot of responsibility and pressure, and laying your head in Titusâ lap made you feel less alone.
You tilted your chin up to look at him and he smiled softly down at you, an edge of condescension in his eyes as he looked at you kneeling at his feet, small and submissive.
"Come up here bunny." Titus said as his hand cupped the back of your head. You complied, standing and climbing into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips and your hands on his shoulders. Titus rested his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he tugged you closer until your unclothed core was pressed against his half hard cock. You gasped, your fingers curling into the material of his shirt and your chest brushing against his.
"Is that because of me?" You asked coyly as Titus' hand trailed up your back, trapping you in his embrace. His eyes were dark and full of desire, watching you with rapt attention. Sitting on your knees you were a little taller than him in this position meaning he had to tip his head back to look into your eyes. Your hands slid up to his face, holding him in that position as your thumbs grazed his cheek reverently.
"Are you going to take care of me Titus?" You whispered, the tip of your nose brushing his. Titus licked his lips and smiled, dark and knowing.
"Absolutely bunny." Titus leaned forward and captured your lips in a deep and possessive kiss. You moaned into his mouth, letting him claim you as his hands ran over your body. He grabbed handfuls of your nightgown and wasted no time in pulling it up, breaking the kiss for only a moment to get the fabric over your head. He tossed it to the ground without even looking, his focus entirely on you.
You couldn't deny the effect his touch had on you. Your kisses were hot and heavy, your skin on fire and your pussy throbbed with need. You could feel how big he was, even through the confines of his pants, and you felt dizzy at the idea of him inside you. Desperate for some relief you rolled your hips against him, the friction of your bare pussy against the fabric of his slacks giving you the stimulation you wanted and you moaned into Titus' mouth again as he groaned into yours.
Titus' hot hands slid over your soft skin, mapping out every dip and valley. The desperate grip of his hands let you know that you had him, completely. The mouth of the Venus fly trap was closing around him slowly, inch by inch and he didn't even know.
You broke the kiss, pulling away from Titus to look down at him. To your delight his pupils were blown wide and his breath came out in heavy pants. His eyes were fixed on you, as though in a trance, like you were the only thing in his universe at the moment. You were still rolling your hips, humping against his clothed cock and sending sparks of pleasure through you both.
"Kiss me baby." You panted as you tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck to him and offering up the smooth column of skin. Titus delighted in the invitation and leaned forward to press hot, wet kisses up and down your neck. You held the back of his head, your fingers slipping through his grey curls as you sighed. Your head tipped back in ecstasy as Titus sucked possessive hickeys into your skin and bit down as his hands pulled your hips forward to grind down harder against his cock.
Titus kissed along your shoulder and you took advantage of his position to push up higher on your knees and push your bare tits towards his face. Titus' eyes flicked up to yours for a moment, his mouth open and wanting just inches from your skin.
"Please," You whined, arching your back more to push your tits forward. Titus kept his eyes on yours as he lowered his mouth to your breast and wrapped his lips around your nipple. He closed his eyes in pleasure and sucked, pulling a moan from you as his tongue lapped at the sensitive bud. You cradled the back of Titus' head, keeping him secured to your breast as he sucked greedily on your nipple. His hand rose to your other breast and enveloped it in his large hand, massaging the flesh while his other hand pressed flat on your back, keeping you where he wanted you.
"Yes," You sighed. "That's it, good boy." The praise went directly to Titus' cock and he moaned lewdly into your tit, pressing his face further against your flesh like he could crawl inside you. You felt so wet, you knew you were dripping into Titus' lap, but he was too preoccupied to notice. When he did pull back from your breast you guided him to the other, neglected breast, nodding encouragingly at him when his eyes went to your face. He wasted no time sucking on your other nipple, moaning when you praised him some more.
"Just like that baby - oh God Titus - yes, yes, you're being so good to me." You moaned. "Good boy, you're doing so good." Titus sucked harder and lavished your nipple with his tongue, spurred on by the praise. At this point your cunt was throbbing, begging to be filled and you couldn't stand it any longer.
"I need your cock baby," You whined desperately, tugging on Titus' hair. "I need you to take care of me." Titus obeyed, albeit reluctantly, pulling away from your breast with a somewhat dazed expression on his face. On another night you'll let him suck on your tits until they were red from his stubble and purple from his hickeys, but right now you needed him inside you.
You dropped back into his lap and made very quick work of his belt and zipper, not bothering with him getting undressed and pulling his hard cock out as soon as you could. You rose up on your knees again to take him inside you, smiling to yourself as Titus pressed his face between your breasts once they were back in his face, before you swiped the bulbous head of his cock through your wet folds and guided him inside you.
You moaned together as you sank down onto him, his large size stretching you but not finding any resistance because of how wet you were. You sat down until your hips were flush with his, his cock fully nestled inside you and your forehead pressed against his. Your hands gripped his shoulders and his held you at your spine and the back of your neck. The weight of his hand on the back of your neck was comforting and controlling in equal measure, his fingers loosely around your neck claiming you as his.
You rose up on your knees, your thighs shaking from the pleasure as you began to bounce in his lap, fucking yourself on his cock. The length of his cock filled you completely and you could feel his tip kissing your cervix every time you dropped down into his lap. He consumed your senses, his woodsy scent filling your nose and his groaning breaths filling your ears, drowning out the sound of rain pelting the windowpane. Your only thought was reaching your pleasure, building it as you fucked him.
"That's it, bounce bunny." Titus murmured, his fingers tightening on your neck as he jerked his hips to meet your thrusts. Your thighs trembled and burned with the effort but you were too caught up in Titus to notice or care. Titus' hand left your neck to slip down in front of you and thumb your clit. You cried out as a wave of pleasure struck through you, your nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. You leaned into Titus, your breasts bouncing directly in his face as you chased your orgasm.
"Come on my cock bunny." Titus ordered, his thumb circling your clit in calculated strokes. You had no choice but to obey and you shattered in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you. Titus took hold of your hips and kept you bouncing as your pleasure rippled through you, fucking you on his cock as he chased his own orgasm.
As you came down from your high you returned more into yourself and remembered you still had a deal to seal. You pivoted, trying to regain the reins and control of the situation.
"C'mon baby," You sighed as you leaned fully into Titus, pressing your chest against his face as your continued to move up and down his cock. "Be good for mommy, come for me." You purred as your fingernails scratched the back of his scalp. Titus moaned loudly at your words, his face buried in your tits. His grip on your hips tightened as he dropped you down on his cock faster, rougher, your words making his balls tighten and his cock pulse.
"Be a good boy for mommy, baby. Come inside me Titus."
"Oh, oh mommy," Titus groaned, his words muffled against your chest as his orgasm started to spill out of him. A few more hard thrusts and Titus slammed you down on his cock one last time to come inside you, his cock twitching as he filled you with his cum. You took Titus' face in your hands and peppered his face with kisses as his cock pulsed inside you.
"Good boy," You praised breathlessly. "Such a good job, making me feel so good." You placed tiny kisses along his jaw and across his cheeks. Once Titus came back to himself his hand flew up to the back of your neck to pull you into a hard and passionate kiss, his lips kissing you like you belonged to him. You melted into his touch voluntarily, savoring the kiss and the heat of his mouth.
The kiss didn't end until Titus released you, letting you pull away but you didn't, instead choosing to rest your head on his shoulder and your hands on his chest, his softening cock still inside you.
"What am I going to do when you leave?" You asked with a melancholy sigh.
"I could stay." Titus replied simply and you perked up, lifting your head to look at him.
"Stay? For how long?" You tried to sound the right amount of eager, not quite over the moon but very happy. The truth was that you were over the moon at what you were sure he was proposing.
"How about forever?" He said, a sly edge to his voice. You broke into a smile.
"Titus, are you asking me to marry you?" Your voice was high with excitement and you didn't hide it from him. He grinned at you, like the cat that ate the canary.
"You want to be a Danforth, bunny?"
"More than anything." You said with a brilliant smile before kissing him deeply.
And just like that, the mouth of the Venus fly trap closed those last few inches around Titus and you were set for life.
In all the years Titus had been alive, no woman had ever captured his attention like you did. Titus could not explain it, he just knew, from the second he first met you, he needed you like air.
And he'd move heaven and hell if necessary to get you.
Not his father, not yours, not the Lawyer, Mr Le Bail or his demons he had watching over you could ever stop him.
Chapter 7 - The Deal
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Words: 8,5k
Content: Older Man/Younger Woman (Titus is 50, Reader in her early twenties but it's only mentioned in passing), Blood and Gore, Brutal Murder, Torture, Possessive Behaviour, Stalking, Slightly Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, Obsessive Titus Danforth, Sexually Inexperienced Titus Danforth, Virgin!Reader, Agoraphobic Reader, Size Difference, Size Kink, Blood Kink, Dacryphilia
No use of y/n!
Read on Ao3 or below the cut:
The media had been positively frothing at their mouths since the perpetually single heir of the Danforth empire was seen with a mysterious, gorgeous young woman at the Breedersâ Cup Classic.
Titus Danforth was never seen with a woman who was not his twin at his side.
None of the so-called experts of high society life knew who you were, but it took nothing more than a little digging to find out, and if theyâd been greedy for a story before, they were absolutely mad for one after.
Titus Danforth and the recluse Convington child.
It was a headline seemingly created for all those soppy romantics who clung to celebrity drama and gossip to forget about their own sad little lives - not that Titus had any particular problem with it when that attention was directed at him, and especially not if that public hunger and swooning was going to get him what he wanted.
You.
You found the media circus, intimidating as it was, rather amusing. And incomprehensible.
âThey donât even know us.â You hummed one evening while on the phone with Titus.
âThey want to be us.â Titus replied, leaning back in his leather swivel chair in his office. The room was only illuminated by the fireplace and a single lamp on his desk. The smoke from his cigar hung thick in the air all around him. âBut they can never be, so by fawning over us like demented lemmings they feel as close to their wish as they can ever possibly be. And it lets them escape from their mediocre, insignificant lives for a while. Does it matter either way, darlinâ?â
âDaddy has been fuming.â Titus could practically hear the wicked grin curling around your lips. âHe hates that they took that picture of us at the races.â
âBut itâs such a pretty picture.â Titus glanced at the picture frame on his desk, right next to the lamp. He found the photographer who took the picture and managed to get a copy by tossing some cash at the man.
You did look absolutely delicious in your flowy dress, standing on your tiptoes on the race track to adjust the lapels of his jacket, smiling up at him with that delectable nervous expression you always wore outside your home.
The tabloids wasted no time once they realised there was a young woman from one of the worldâs most influential families they had not reported on before. Titus saw you everywhere he went. Every magazine, gossip rag and podcast dedicated to the rich and famous was retelling the same few facts some rather ambitious journalists had dragged to the surface about you.
Pictures taken a long time ago and dug out again, blown up to show the slivers of you they caught in the background between other people. You at your oldest brotherâs wedding, at a fundraiser when you were thirteen, hiding in the background while your father sat in the estateâs garden recording a speech for some charitable effort while the world was on lockdown.
The media had told every story possible about your brothers so many times, not even the most hungry-for-scandal reader could still be bothered to read about it. Who cared about that time Caspian was seen vomiting outside some filthy strip club? Forgotten was Sebastian setting fire to the family yacht while coked out of his mind, and even little Darius - the youngest of your six brothers - fucking his boyfriend on the lawn in front of his pretentious, prestigious boarding school, just to be found by the headmaster who promptly, at the sight of two teenage boys, one of whom has his cock balls deep in the otherâs ass, had a heartattack and died.
It seemed almost impossible that the most interesting thing about you the media had to report about was the fact that you were a bit of a shut-in and currently working towards a degree in Mythology and Occultism through an online university.Â
Titus knew several, much more interesting things about you, starting with the way your tits fit perfectly into his hands and ending with the delicious sight of you covered in blood from head to toe.
Some more conservative, rich, shrivelled prunes took offence to your aspired degree, until Chester reminded them that your field of study fell under Anthropology and Religious Studies and sought nothing more than to preserve human heritage - something they had all taken up the cause of, funding several foundations keeping museums and research afloat, all tax-deductible, of course.
Titus didnât care what anyone said. You were a little⊠bizarre, but he liked that about you.
At least you werenât boring like the rest of the upper crust.
After a couple of weeks of silence from Titus - ordered by Chester, who was visibly enjoying all this, like a puppetmaster watching those attached to his strings jump and twirl at his every behest - Titus finally showed his face in public again, appearing at a high-profile fundraiser. More journalists and paparazzi than ever gathered outside the heritage building chosen as todayâs location. Or perhaps the fundraiser was about collecting money for that building? It wasnât like Titus cared either way.
You werenât at his side.
That was all that mattered to him, and if you had been⊠well Titus wouldnât be paying attention to some ancient house, would he?
He stepped out of the car and onto the red carpet. The assault of flashing camera lights was instant. He was alone, representing the Danforth name and fortune on his own, Ursula off to who knew where and Chester indisposed, as the old man had put it.
Titus knew both were a front.
Chester didnât want anyone taking the attention away from Titus tonight, not when Richard Covington would be here too. It was dangerous to put Titus and your father into the same room together, but Chester had made sure to threaten Titus to play nice, or heâd never get what he wanted.
Titus could be remarkably compliant when one dangled a carrot in front of his nose, and nobody knew this better than Chester.
It didnât take long, posing for a few pictures here or there, some handshaking in front of the cameras, for the line of questioning Chester had wanted to start.
Titus' name was shouted by the greedy leeches hiding behind their cameras on the other side of the barrier keeping the common people away from the invited guests. They tried so hard to get his attention, to get him to look at them over the countless other faceless cameras disappearing in the darkness beyond the camera flashes. Titus stood on the red carpet, wearing a mildly amused, charmingly contemptuous expression, posture straight but relaxed, and let the camera lightning storm wash over him.
âTitus! Are you and Ms Convington an item?!â
âWhere is your sweetheart tonight?â
âWill you see Ms Convington again?!â
The longer Titus didnât react to the inquiries after you, the hungrier the masses got for it.
âCan we expect an official announcement soon, Titus?!â
âAh,â Titus chuckled, adjusting the cuffs of his suit absent-mindedly. âI rather fear her father does not approve of me.â He looked not so subtly to the side, finding Richard standing just within earshot. Seeing the other manâs jaw tense almost made Titus break character. He forced his expression to remain sorrowful.
âWe spoke just last night, but⊠of course I do hope I will see her again soon.â
He ignored the frenzy his words caused and, without answering further questions, flanked by his personal assistant and security guards, disappeared within the venue.
Crumbs.
Crumbs was all he had to feed the masses to keep this rather pathetic hysteria going.
Briefly, Titus wondered the effect it would have had on the reporter had you been at his side that night⊠seeing him step out before you just to turn around and help you exit the car, seeing you two together, his hand around his waist, your fingers curling into the pocket of his jacket⊠oh, he could practically hear the roaring, demented mania youâd cause.
Titus looked up from the papers scattered on his desk at the knock resounding through the empty, dim office.
âEnter.â
Chester seemed surprised, the aliens touching down on earth-kind of surprised, to see Titus working so late - or perhaps to see him working at all, who knew?
âThis is a⊠pleasant change.â His father murmured, more to himself than Titus and oh how Titus loathed when Chester did that, talking about him as if he werenât even in the room. He wasnât the most interested in business, sure, but the tasks set for him always got done. Maybe not as swiftly as Chester sometimes wanted, but always before the deadline passed!
âWhat can I do for you, Dad?â
âHi, Mr Danforth!â You piped up, your voice slightly distorted by the speakers of his laptop. Titus turned it so the monitor and camera were pointing at Chester.
One had to almost commend Chester on how quickly he could adjust to situations he did not expect unfolding. He forced his expression to soften and smiled at you. Titus wasnât fooled. He held no real warmth of affection for you, not that it was necessary. What use would another manâs affection be to you? You had Titus.
âWhat a pleasant surprise to see you, my dear. I hope you are not distracting Titus.â
âIâm studying until the ice melts.â You lift your book and point at the vase half filled with ice, half with water, and the soda can trapped within.
âI still donât know why your self-imposed rules apply to me.â Titus muttered. Heâd called you to talk to you, see you, maybe to convince you to watch him while he jerked off again. Not to be forced to work.
âHm, not sure who you are talking to, Titus.â You mused in a sickly-sweet voice. âCertainly canât be me, not with that tone.â Your smile didnât waver.
Titus had discovered, despite his earlier assumption, that you were not shy. Nothing about you was shy. It had taken you a few video calls with him to be comfortable with that particular means of communication - but Titus simply had to see your face - and you were simply never comfortable outside the familiar walls of your home, but once you were comfortable around him, heâd been in for a rude awakening.Â
You had a tongue on you!
Not that he actually minded.
Yeah⊠nothing about you was shy. You were just terrified in public, and Titus had learnt to tell the difference. The thought of what a menace you must be towards your brothers and especially your father when you were mad, which was all the time lately, was deeply amusing to Titus.
âForgive me, sweetheart.â Titus purred, putting his head into his hands to smile at you innocently. You merely huffed, but you couldnât hide the way your lips curled despite your attempts to stop it.
âThat is a nice bracelet.â Chester said. Your entire mood shifted immediately. You beamed at the old man and held your arm up to show the platinum and diamond Cartier bracelet off. Thirty-five individual diamonds curling around your wrist.
âIt was a gift from Titus!â You cooed. Youâd been so pleased when your maid dropped the package delivered by Titusâ assistant off. Youâd been talking to each other, and Titus got to see your face when you opened it, squealing and gushing.
Titus already knew heâd never tire of spoiling youâŠ
âMarvellous. Well, I do not wish to disturb the two of you any longer than I have to.â
Titus could not remember a time his father had been so civil. The old man truly was over the moon to finally see Titus interested in marriage and ensuring the survival of the Danforth main line. It was making him soft.
âAn invitation.â Chester passed the thick, handmade piece of cardstock to Titus. It was handwritten with golden ink, inviting the Danforth family for dinner at the Covington residence. Titus read the card, smirking to himself, before flipping it around to show you. Your eyes went wide.
âYouâre coming, right?â
âNothing could keep me away, darlin'.â
Ursula was surprisingly docile the day of the dinner. Chester probably gave her a stern talking to not to ruin this. Not that Titus particularly cared.
He was starved for you.
Video calls every night could never be enough, never replace feeling the soft flesh of your body against his palms, of your breath against his skin, your body warming his sheets.
He preened like a goddamn fucking peacock when he stepped out of the car, just to be tackled by you rushing down the stone steps leading up to your ancestral home to fling your arms around his neck. The rest of the household stayed firmly in place, your brother arranged by age on one side, with the wives and kids standing on the other. Your father stood in the middle, in the entrance of his house, surrounded by his wealth and bloodline, arms folded behind his back.
Titus bore your weight with ease. He curled an arm around your middle as you collided with him and picked you up to swirl you around. You squealed and laughed, clinging to his shoulders with your face buried against his neck.
It made your insides tingle to be reminded just how strong Titus was.
He set you down carefully and caught your chin in his hand, meaty fingers settling against your flushed skin, his arm still securely around your waist.Â
âAm I not gettinâ a kiss?â
âNo.â You grinned and turned out of his grasp. You caught his hand and tugged him along to the steps. âI want to show you my room!â
Your father stepped aside to make room for you, whirling past him, a benevolent, almost mocking expression gleaming in his eyes.
âDaddy dearest doesnât have a problem with me alone in your bedroom?â
âDaddy only invited you to see what your father is willing to offer for my hand.â You chirped, chasing up a winding staircase before rushing down a hallway decked with rich tapestries and gold accents. âAnd he thinks Iâll bore you to death introducing you to everyone. Maybe he hopes I'll scare you off.âÂ
You flung your arms around his neck again, letting Titus push you back against the wall. The door next to you bore your name in swirly, gilded letters.
âYou hiding more demons in there, sweetheart?â Titus murmured. He was so close his nose almost touched yours. That enticing mixture of his aftershave and him filled your nostrils and invaded your brain, rendering all thinking impossible for a few moments.
âNo, silly.â You pushed the doorhandle down and slipped under his arm and into your room. Titus followed on your heels. âThis is everyone. Everyone, this is Titus!â
Approximately three dozen pairs of beady glass eyes stared down at Titus from antique shelves mounted to the dusky pink walls.
Mice.
Mice upon mice upon mice, trapped forever in their final moments, their bodies preserved to endure long after their death.
Mice in tutus arranged into different poses. Mice around a round table playing cards. A mouse slaughtering another with a bloody knife. A fairy mouse. A wizard mouse with a massive moustache. Mice on 20th-century school benches.
A grotesque collection of taxidermied mice.
âI donât actually talk to them.â You purred in his ear and giggled. âI donât kill them either.â You crossed your hands on his shoulder and rested your chin atop them, pouting up at him. âI donât hurt animals. Animals are innocent. I just pull the skin off their bodies and preserve it, stitch it back together and pull it over foam cores⊠but my family sure thinks Iâm fucking crazy.â
Titusâ eyes flicked across the room, observing the dead mice staring at him, trying to process this new information.
âThatâs why your father offered you a new mouse for your collection in exchange for your compliance after the hunt. I didnât much think of it then, but you said he doesnât let you have pets.â
âDoes it creep you out?â Your voice dipped into a low purr. An edge of danger, of corrupted fascination played around your words, almost as if you wanted him to be unnerved.
Titus shrugged. âWe have dead bucks hanging on our wall. My great aunt kept her feral little lapdog after it died. Damn thing finally croaked just for it to show back up at the house weeks later as if nothing happened. Ursula hid the thing in my room all the time just to give me a scare every time I found it. Fucking rat.â
âWhat did you do with it?â Your lips brushed his earlobe. A shudder rushed down Titusâ back.
âBurnt it.â
âIf you burn my Evangeline, Iâll cut your balls off and feed them to you, Titus.â
Another shudder, hot and prickling, eating right through his bones and settling in the marrow, chased down his spine. âWhich one is Evangeline?â
âSheâs a medieval princess today.â Your tongue darted out between your lips to graze his earlobe. âIsnât she pretty?â
The mouse in question stood on your desk, right next to the textbooks on Occult studies youâd been poring over for the past weeks. It wore a poufy lilac dress and one of those ridiculous cone hats.
âToday?â
âSheâs very fashionable.â You whispered. âShe has her own wardrobe.â
You stepped away suddenly, without warning, leaving a gaping wound where youâd been a part of him.
âDaddy will be serving drinks soon.â You said casually, incidentally, as if you hadnât been sucking on his earlobe and purring in his ear a moment ago. You brushed your fingertips across the buttons of your Bluetooth speaker. A dark disco, electropop song started playing.
Titus watched you slide the sleeves of your dress down your shoulders, transfixed, all but hypnotised by the way you moved to the beat. Your dress fell off you, pooling by your feet, leaving you only in a matching set of playful, lacy underwear. You ran your hands up along your sides and through your hair before lifting them above your head, swaying your hips.Â
Like a siren dragging him under her spell.
You turned around and moved towards him. His breath caught in his chest. His cock stirred in his pants and heâd never felt so desperate, so needy for someone as he felt for you.
You still had not touched him. Not once.
How could Titus feel like this for someone he met twice and otherwise only spoken to over the phone? What kind of power did you possess that you could have such an effect on him?
You settled your hands against his chest in a feather-light touch. Baby blue, pearlescent nails against the deep charcoal grey of his suit. You pressed yourself against him, feeling the fabric of his clothes against your exposed skin and moaning softly.
Titus obeyed your silent wish at the slightest pressure against his chest and sat down on the edge of your bed - a regal, gold wire frame topped with a luxurious, soft mattress and smothered in blankets and pillows. He watched you lower yourself to your knees, the song still playing in the background though Titus barely heard it over the blood pounding in his ears. His stomach clenched painfully under a debilitating wave of need punching through him at the sight of you there, on your knees, between his legs, resting your head on his thigh.
âI want to see it again.â
âOh, sweetheart, you can do more than just see it.â Titus groaned, already getting his slacks open to draw himself out.
You frowned and tilted your head to the side. âWhat else would I do?â
Titus merely chuckled, not realising you were genuinely confused. Your attention didnât linger on it. Your eyes flicked down to his hard cock, a mere few inches away from your head.
You just⊠stared at it.
Only in your underwear, kneeling between his thighs, staring.
His thick, veiny cock rested hard and aching against his stomach, the mushroom head an angry red and leaking pre cum. You watched it roll down his shaft, leaving his skin gleaming wetly.
You hummed and got up, turning on the spot to walk over to your antique wardrobe. Titus watched you pull a floor-length, shimmery, silver silk dress out of its depths and undo your bra, letting it carelessly drop to the ground before stepping into the dress and pulling the thin straps over your shoulder. The dress clung loosely to your frame like wet fabric, moulding to your shape in places while concealing it in others. It dipped low in the back, leaving your entire back bare. You plucked a pair of diamond earrings and a matching necklace off your vanity and put them on before turning back towards Titus.
âYou shouldnât leave daddy waiting.â
You walked out of your room without turning around to him again, leaving Titus behind with only his aching erection and your creepy collection of taxidermy.
It should piss him off.
It should make him furious what a little tease you were, how you kept getting him this hard and desperate but never touched him. It didnât. Titus was obsessed with you, and everything you did only deepened his obsession further.
When he went downstairs to join you and his family in the sitting room, after his raging boner finally went away enough for him to tuck his cock back into his pants without wanting to die, he found you comfortably perched on your fatherâs lap. You sat sideways with your arm draped around his shoulders while you held a glass in your other hand. Your father looked smug. Far too fucking smug for Titusâ liking, and his words from the day at the races echoed through his head.Â
So you pleasured her, maybe she came back for another taste. You really think that means something? You think sheâll return the favour?
Titus gritted his teeth and took a seat on the sofa across from Richard and you, next to his sister.
âEnjoyed the tour?â Richard asked, a devilish glint in his eyes, and took a sip of his whiskey.
âEvageline sure looked lovely tonight.â
Your eyes lit up. âI made the dress myself.â
âImpressive.â
Titus savoured watching you preen under his attention and compliment, just to duck your head and grin down at your glass.
The conversation his arrival interrupted picked back up, meaningless, scathingly polite chattering. Ursula talked about the latest collection of some hot up-and-coming designer with your three sisters-in-law while Chester, Richard and Caspian talked business. Darius and Sebastian teased Tobias with a date that had apparently gone rather horribly.
Titus barely paid attention to any of it.
How could he when you were right there, on your fatherâs lap, his hand resting possessively on your hip, just⊠watching him.
âTake a picture, sweetheart. Itâll last you longer.â
Your smile widened, accentuating the apples of your cheeks that turned pink under his gaze.
âThe last picture I took caused quite the stir.â
That it had.
Little minx that you were, you had taken a selfie of yourself reclined comfortably in your bed with your laptop next to you while you were on a video call with Titus. You created a new account on some social media app. Within just a couple of hours, the account had tens of millions of followers.
Your father threatened to take away your internet access again, to which you threatened to tell the internet he wasnât letting you talk to Titus. His companyâs stocks had already taken a big hit in the face of increased scrutiny and questions regarding his treatment of his daughter, accusations of misogyny and sexism, rumours Chester was for once not lifting a finger to conceal as he usually did for the High Council.
It was safe to say that Richard was quite motivated to contain the ever-escalating media attention.
âSir, the children would like to say goodnight.â The butler announced from the door.
âSend them in.â Richard drawled. Five children, arranged by age, all wearing dressing robes over their pyjamas, hair brushed and braided for the girls, marched into the room. The youngest held the hand of the nanny and peered fearfully at Titus, Ursula and Chester.
You put your glass down and slipped off your fatherâs lap to kneel down in front of them. Caspianâs wife - Lucille -Â wanted to stop you, but Caspian grabbed her wrist before she could, shooting her a warning glance.
You embraced your nieces and nephews, showering them in kisses and sharing whispered words that made the children giggle.
The oldest couldnât be older than six, not that Titus knew much about children.
Richard watched you with an insufferable, mockingly benevolent expression. Lucille grew more antsy the longer you interacted with the children. Sebastianâs and Remingtonâs wives didnât look thrilled to have you so close to their spawns either.
Titus didnât understand why.
You were nothing but gentle and sweet with them from what he saw - doting. And the children obviously adored you. Children did not laugh so freely with someone who they were scared of or who hurt them.
âWill you come?â The oldest of the bunch, Caspianâs first-born son, peered up at you with hopeful eyes.
You shook your head. âNot tonight.â
âBut-â The boyâs eyes went wide. âYou have to make sure there arenât any monsters under my bed.â
Your father scoffed and rolled his eyes, but you stayed right where you were, kneeling in front of your nephew.
âDid you forget?â You grinned and adjusted his dressing gown. âAll the monsters live under my bed. And if one of them gets lost, you just tell it to fuck off, or your auntie will hunt them down, hm? Iâll skin and gut them and hang them up outside as a warning. Nobody scares my little niblings and lives.â
âCould you not say such gruesome things in front of the children?â
Titus saw you roll your eyes.
âYour wife has been married into a devil-worshipping cult for what? Ten years? Youâd think sheâd have grown thicker skin by now.â
Richard chuckled. Even Caspian grinned, though he had the class to hide it behind the rim of his glass.
âHeâll get nightmares.â Lucille insisted.
You scoffed. âNightmares?" You said without looking away from your nephew. "Who? You? You are the future Covington heir. Youâre not scared of some blood, are you, baby?â
Your nephew shook his head.
âNo, youâre not. When youâre a little bigger, Iâll teach you everything you need to know to serve Mr Le Bail.â You caught his face in your hands and pulled him closer to deposit several kisses on his face. Your nephew giggled and threw his arms around you.
âGoodnight, little bug.â You purred at the toddler holding the nannyâs hand. You poked and tickled her tummy playfully until she giggled and shrieked before bending down to press a final kiss to her forehead while your father called you back to his side.
You didnât go to him.
You joined Titus, slipping onto his lap as if you had never sat anywhere else. You watched the children get ushered out and waved. Only once the butler closed the door to the sitting room again did you turn your attention towards Titus.
Lucille had turned to Caspian, muttering furiously under her breath about how she didnât like you swearing in front of the children or talking about killing. Caspian brushed her off, telling her to be quiet, that theyâd talk when the guests were gone, and all the platitudes husbands threw at their misbehaving wives.
âI do not understand why Mr Le Bail only tests the outsiders if he doesn't want them to join the bloodline.â You groaned as you curled your arm around Titusâ neck, playing with the curls at the base of his skull. âSeems short-sighted that outsiders can marry in without having to prove themselves worthy.â
âYeah? How would you do it?â
You shrugged and snapped your fingers for a footman to bring you your glass youâd left on the table. âI just think they should have to prove they have what it takes to serve Mr Le Bail. Clearly some people here donât.â You looked at Lucille, a silent challenge the older woman was not brave enough to take you up on, before glancing back at Titus. âDo you want children?â
âIf they are yours.â
Your cheeks tinged pink. You tried and failed to fight off the smile sneaking onto your lips. âYeah? You tellinâ the truth?â
âI wouldnât lie to you, sweetheart.â
âBecause my brothers sure think you only want to fuck me.â
Titusâ lips curled. âWell, to claim it is the only thing I want from you is rather the assault on my character.â
Your expression dropped. You sat up slightly, pushing away from him, frowning. âYou- want-â
Titus bit back a nervous chuckle. âI want you to be my wife - with all that entails.â
âYou want to put your penis inside me.â
This time the nervous chuckle broke through Titusâ defences. He did not know how to respond to your bluntness - especially when it was uttered so publicly. His family did not speak of carnal love, ever - or the unnerved expression on your face. He did not think heâd been subtle with his desire at all, so to see you so surprised by them was throwing him off.
Your father looked deeply pleased, smirking at Titus over the rim of his glass. Your brothers snorted and snickered, clearly not as blindsided by this response as he was.
âI donât want that. That sounds disgusting.â
âAh, thereâs always IVF, I suppose.â Your father hummed, earning another round of snickers from your brothers.
Titus, not one to back down from a fight, recovered from his surprise enough to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and smirk up at you. âYou did not seem disgusted when my tongue was inside you, sweetheart.â
Richardâs expression froze over. Gabriel choked on his drink. Caspianâs grip around his glass tightened to the point his knuckles went white. Tobias and Sebastian looked murderous. Remington seemed undecided whether to be amused or furious, and Darius, well, Darius was having the time of his life. His boyfriend had to hiss a warning into his ear to stop him from bursting out in laughter.
âHuhâŠâ You tilted your head to the side, staring at Titus, utterly uncaring of your surroundings.
The butler came to Titusâ rescue, announcing that dinner was about to be served. The migration from the sitting room to the dining room helped alleviate some tension, but Richardâs murderous expression stayed firmly in place throughout all six courses.
It was becoming increasingly clear he had lost control over you - certainly more than heâd ever thought possible.
You didnât get the opportunity to be alone with Titus again.
You couldnât tell why, but it left you feeling restless and⊠unsatisfied. Like the distance the circumstances of tonight had forced upon you, after weeks of being kept away from him, had grown to manifest itself in an insistent, gnawing itch you could not shake.
Your father didnât let you kill staff anymore because - according to him - it was getting difficult to find good replacements, so you paced your room, desperately trying to rid yourself of the sensation of a thousand insects rushing across your skin long enough to fall asleep.
It didnât help.
Dressed only in your silk sleep dress, you made your way across the east wing, padding barefoot over the expensive runner until you reached your fatherâs bedroom.
You slipped inside without knocking.
Richard looked up from the book he was reading, already in bed, with only the lamp on his nightstand casting the room in a mellow, warm light. You crawled into his bed and curled up next to him, bedding your head on his lap.
âHello, princess. Canât sleep?â
Richard shifted his book into his left hand to thread the other one through your hair.
âI want Titus.â
His hand stilled mid-stroke. A fracture, a minuscule crack in his otherwise stern composure.
âCome here, love.â Richard set his book aside and opened his arms for you, letting you crawl onto his lap. He gripped your chin gently, a benevolent smile curling around his lips.
âThat boy really has done a number on you, hm?â He clicked his tongue, a sound oozing such disappointment it made you flinch. He sighed. âItâs my fault. I should have known this would happen. You arenât a child anymore⊠even if it hurts your old man to admit it.â
âIâll always be your little girl.â
The corner of Richardâs mouth twitched. Something in his eyes softened, something that was never soft, for nobody else. Only ever for you. âOf course. But you are a young woman now, and a beautiful one too. It is only natural for you to have desires - Mr Le Bail is certainly not one to insist on stifling those, and who would I be to disobey his example? I suppose I cannot even be cross with Mr Danforth for being taken with a face like yours.â
Richard ran his knuckle along your cheek. You nuzzled into the easy display of affection.
âHow about this? I will find you a toy more⊠suitable to your disposition, hm? Some handsome boy - or a more⊠mature man if that is your preference. Someone to explore with, to play with until you grow tired. Someone you can enjoy and dispose of just the way you want to.â
The thought of hands that did not belong to Titus touching you the way he had spread a foul taste through your mouth.
You shook your head.
âI want Titus.â
Richardâs nostrils flared. He never expected your childish rebellion to last this long.
âAm I that terrible to you? That you wish so desperately to leave me?â
âOf course not, daddy.â
âThen why are you suddenly so eager to marry and be rid of me?â
You sat up. âI donât want to be rid of you! I just- I want Titus!â
âHeâd take you away from me! Is that what you want? To leave your home, the place where youâve been safe your whole life, to be with that petulant manchild? He doesnât know you, love, not like I do. And you need me to take care of you. How would I do that when you leave me?â
âTitus would.â
Richard laughed, delighted and derisive both at once, making you feel like a silly little thing and causing you to shrink against him.
âTitus? That man cannot even take care of himself, how would he look after you?â
But he did, you thought, glaring defiantly up at your father. Titus did look after you during the race. He asked you what you needed and then gave it to you, and that was more than he or Caspian were doing lately!
Titus listened to you. He didnât talk over you, and he took you seriously and tried to understand you even when you made no sense. He respected you, and you were beginning to think, reluctantly and with a heavy heart, that maybe⊠Richard didnât.
It was stupid that you needed his permission to get married to Titus. You wouldnât need it to marry any other man, so why should he get to decide this! The bylaws were wrong. If Richard didnât let you have this then- then-
The itch, the perpetual squirming feeling of insects crawling across your skin intensified suddenly, growing tenfold until you couldnât think, couldnât breathe-
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push it down, trying to not think about losing the way Titus looked at you forever, the feeling of his hand on your waist, of his lips against your neck - but you couldnât.
You were losing him.
You were losing him before he even got to be yours because of Richard, because Richard had a personal vendetta against Titus! And instead of setting it aside to make his only daughter happy, here he was suggesting youâd find some- some cheap replacement to give all the first experiences to that belonged to Titus!
Why should you kiss different lips? Why should you let those lips touch any part of your body? Why should you feel cheap pleasure at their caress when all you wanted was Titus?!
The sound of your name filling the quiet bedroom pulled you back.
You blinked, disoriented, and found yourself sitting above your father, straddling his chest, your knees pinning his arms to the mattress, with your razor blade pressed into his throat.
A drop of red blood beaded along the gleaming metal.
Richardâs eyes were wide. A predator that believed himself strong enough to cage a bigger, worse version of himself knocked off his pedestal. A man foolish enough to keep a chimpanzee as a pet and just got a taste of what they were truly capable of.
âI want Titus.â You hissed. Adrenaline pumped through your entire body, making you feel energised and restless.
âTake the blade away, silly girl.â
âWhat if I donât?â Your eyes lit up with manic delight. Your lips curled into a grotesque, frantic grin. âWhat if I kill you, daddy? Sacrifice you to Mr Le Bail? There is no rule against that, daddy. What if I do to you what I did to mummy? Caspian would take your place. Caspian would let me get married. And if he doesnât, Iâll kill him, and Tobias takes his place. And Sebastian after him. Remington. Gabriel. Darius sure as fuck isnât going to say no to me. And if he does, if I kill him, my sweet, precious little Edmund would become the patriarch of this family, since youâve probably excluded me from the succession. Edmund would want his auntie to be happy.â
âWould you do that?â Richard sneered. âPlace the burden of leading a High Council family on a six-year-old? Kill your whole family to bind yourself to someone like that for the rest of eternity?  There is no divorce for the High Council families!â
Mr Le Bail did not care about the values of his creator, but he valued loyalty and devotion, and he did not allow his High Council to fall into chaos over attempts to take the other familiesâ power and wealth through playing musical chairs with marriages.
You faltered for a second, long enough for Richard to free himself, throwing you to the side and off himself. You landed on the soft mattress, staring up at the ceiling.
âIâd kill every last one of you so you can never say no to me again.â You whispered. âSo you stop treating me like a fucking child!â
âThen stop acting like one!â
You sat up and glared at your father with enough vitriol he felt it prickling on his skin. The shadows behind you squirmed, coming alive with something that was decidedly not alive.
âI will marry Titus.â
Glancing warily at the shadows, Richard decided to switch tactics.
âAnd then?â He murmured softly, kneeling down on the ground in front of the bed, taking your hands into his own. Blood ran down his neck in a thin trickle. You still held the bloody razor blade in your trembling fingers.
âWhat happens when youâve married him? Have you thought about that? Youâll have to move. Leave behind everything you know. What if he decides he doesnât want Rosehip and Biscuit? You canât just kill your husband and be done with it. Mr Le Bail wonât even forgive you for taking out the Danforth heir over some goats.â
âHe already said I can keep them.â You whispered, fighting the tears gathering in your eyes. âHe said I won't ever need to ask him permission.â
Richard gave you a sympathetic, sad smile and tugged a strand of hair behind your ear. âMen make many lofty promises to get what they want, love. Especially a man like Titus. Do you think he loves you? Oh, sweetheart, he only loves what is between your thighs and that heâs the first to touch it.â
Richard got to his feet with a sigh and went into the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. His hands were trembling when he retrieved a washcloth to wipe the blood from his neck. Fear clung to every inch of him, thick and cloying.
Youâd threatened to kill him before in petulant displays of insolence, but never had you acted on them.
He took a deep breath, scrambling to hold onto his composure a little longer, as long as you were around at least.
He found you standing at the window, looking down at the dark estate. Titus stood on the terrace, smoke curling around him and Darius, who was leaning against a stone balustrade.
âOkay.â Richard whispered, stepping up behind you, hands settling on your waist. âI think you are making a mistake, but if this is what you want⊠though⊠if I do something for you, something I really do not wish to do⊠you have to do something for me in return.â
You turned your head ever so slightly, glancing at him through the corner of your eye.
âThatâs only fair, wouldnât you agree? Just like Mr Le Bail would ask something of you in return for forcing my hand in this matter, and itâs better to be indebted to me than him, donât you think?â
âWhat- what do you want?â
âEverything.â Richard purred in your ear before straightening up to rest his chin on your head, staring down at the figure of Titus. âThe thing Iâve always wanted. The High Seat.â
You frowned. âTitusâ father has the High SeatâŠâ
âWhich is why Iâm going to ask something simple of you. Something youâre good at⊠Iâll let you marry Titus, and after a while, when youâve had time to grow bored of him, when I tell you⊠youâll kill him.â
You stiffened, but Richardâs grip around you stopped you from backing away, forcing you to listen to his full proposal, at once no longer father but businessman.
âLet him put a child in you first if you want to play mother so badly, but you will kill him. First, youâll kill his father, of course. Then his insipid sister and at last, him. Youâll inherit the High Seat, and Iâll graciously take that burden off you. You can come home, even when youâre a Danforth." When you are no longer family, when you can no longer kill him. "Of course, you can - Iâll always take care of you - and everything will be as it used to be.â
Richard ran his hands up your arms, letting them settle on top of your shoulders.
âI know how you get, after all, when youâve gotten something into your mind you just canât get out. It's not your fault. Iâll let you have your fill of him, Iâll let you have what you want, and youâll give me what I want. I think that is fair.â
Your mouth felt dry. You tried to swallow, but it felt like swallowing sand. You stared at Titus, his strong build next to your brotherâs lithe appearance. You could hear a faint whisper of his laughter as the two spoke. Your heart ached for him. Youâd never wanted something more than you wanted him.
âOkay.â
Richard tipped his head forward to press a kiss against the crown of your head, concealing a smirk against your scalp.
âI knew we could figure this out. My good girlâŠâ
You turned on the spot, twisting out of his grasp to go lie down on the bed, hugging one of the pillows to your chest and fighting the tears burning in your eyes.
You had just gotten all youâve been asking for - why did it not feel like a victory?
Richard settled in behind you, draping his arm over your waist and kissing your cheek.
âI love you, daddy.â
Richard chuckled. âI love you too, sweetheart.â
Titus watched the window even after you left. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and lowered his cigar.
âWhat is up with those two anyway?â He hummed, glancing at the youngest of your brothers. Darius shrugged.
âHeâs weird with her, isnât he? Heâs always been like that. Sheâs probably the only one of us he loves, as much as he is capable of love, guess. Itâs pretty insulting considering he never wanted her in the first place.â Darius was drunk, not so drunk he was slurring his words and couldnât stand upright, but the weed heâd been smoking erased the last of his inhibitions.
Titus had gotten some useful information out of him. He liked Darius best out of all your brothers, though he supposed that wasnât a difficult thing to accomplish with how much heâd grown to loathe Caspian and Tobias specifically.
âHe swore off love a long time ago. When Le Bail made him kill his wife.â
âYour mother? I was under the impression your sister killed her.â
Darius chuckled. âNot my mother. His first wife. Le Bail may not let us divorce spouses, but there is no rule against killing them, is there? Father made his deal when he was sixteen. Two years later, when he had all the riches a prospective father-in-law could want his daughterâs suitor to have, he asked for the hand of his high school sweetheart. They got married, had a kid, the fairy tale. Until a drunk driver crashed into their car. Their son died. The wife survived, barely, but the surgery necessary to save her also removed her uterus. My father had to choose between the love of his life and the prospect of ever becoming part of the High Council. Lower families donât have to have heirs. High Council families do. My father didnât have siblings. He was twenty-one, without child, and with an infertile wife. Mr Le Bail made it clear. No child - no High Council. And no divorce.â
âSo your father killed the love of his life?â
âSacrificed her on the altar he built together with her in this very house. Then he found an heiress among the lower families he could stand the thought of having to look at for the rest of his life and married her. She gave him two sons, but she wanted a daughter. Years later-â Darius spread his arms and bowed mockingly. â-here we are. Iâm not entirely convinced Mr Le Bail told my sister to kill our mother. Honestly, it might have been Father.âÂ
Darius yawned and stretched. He stubbed out his joint on the stone bannister. Titus watched him from the corner of his mouth. It fascinated him how coldly your entire family spoke of your motherâs demise.
âYou know sheâll take the goats, right?â Darius asked out of nowhere. At Titusâ confused expression, he nodded towards the garden where two goats in what looked like baby onesies were currently eating one of the manicured hedges.
âMan, I donât give a fuck about the goats or the mice or the demons.â He looked back up to the window. âI just want her.â
Darius nodded. âAs long as you make her happy.â He grabbed his crystal tumbler from the balustrade and threw back the last sip of whiskey. âShe deserves to finally have something for herself. And I swear, Father acts so goddamn creepy around her sometimes. Itâll do her good to get away from that.â
Titus watched Darius walk inside and drag his boyfriend up the stairs. His eyes flicked back up to the window where you still did not stand.
The sound of expensive loafers stepping up the stone stairs had him swirling around.
The Lawyer merely smirked.
The flames dancing in the fireplace behind Mr Le Bailâs chair felt cold against your skin. Or perhaps it was simply you who could not feel warm.
You knelt on the carpet with your arms crossed on the armrest of his chair, your chin resting atop them, whispering with the being only you saw.
You fell silent the moment Titus appeared in the doorway.
Your heart sank at the same time as it beat faster. How could you feel both so much joy and apprehension at the same time?
âDarlinâ?â
A prickling shiver rushed down your spine at the nickname and the soft, raspy purr of his voice.
âArenât you cold?â
Titus knew well the trouble of heating an old mansion like this. Seeing you on the ground in only a thin, short sleep dress made him frown.
You shook your head.
âI know you must be tired.â He made a step into the room. âIâll let you catch some sleep in a moment, but- I cannot leave just yet.â He lowered himself onto one knee next to you. His fingers trembled almost unperceivable when he reached out to brush your hair behind your ear. You nuzzled into his touch. He leaned down, bringing his forehead to yours, and as if youâd never done anything else, you tipped your head up to catch his lips in a fleeting but no less yearning kiss.
Titus cupped the side of your face and deepened the kiss. His free hand slid into his pocket, pulling out the ring box heâd been carrying with him for weeks, the ring box he opened every night, without fail, picturing the sparkling, decadent ring on your finger.
He pulled back just enough to show you the box, to open it for you as he had pictured so many timesâŠ
Your eyes fell on the delicate ring. A three-carat, cushion-cut diamond surrounded by polished, glittering moonstones, set into a narrow platinum band.
It was decadent, but tasteful in the way old money always was, almost subtle when one wasnât directly looking at it.
âWill you make me the happiest, richest man in the whole wide world and become my wife?â He whispered, forehead still pressed to yours, breath brushing across your lips as he spoke.
âTitusâŠâ
âJust say yes.â Titus kissed the corner of your mouth. âPlease just say yes, sweetheart. Weâll figure it all out⊠just be mine.â
You opened and closed your mouth. A tear rolled down your cheek. âYes.â
Titus swept you up in his arms, getting to his feet with you as if you weighed nothing and kissed you, deep, hungry, practically glowing with joy.
You let him sit you down on the table and slip the ring onto your finger. It fit exactly right. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It had his and your initials engraved on the inside of the band. He hugged you again, burying his face against your neck and whispering sweet nothings and solemn promises into your skin.
Everything was perfect.
Why did it not feel perfect?
You looked to the side, finding Mr Le Bail's fiery eyes already on you.Â
He merely smirked and shrugged.
Next Chapter
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I've been on a liking spree so that I could put this list together of all of the best fics of Shawn's characters I've been reading lately. This list is in no way comprehensive but I've done my very best to put everything I've been loving on it
It is also 100% smut
JACK ABBOT
quarantined by @itslowkeyatthenightshift
you and your attending butt headsâand itâs no secret around the ED that Dr. Jack Abbot is harder on you than the other residents. He pushes you further, critiques you sharper, expects moreâand youâre done with it. Just as youâre about to go to Dr. Robby to request a switch to days and finally put some distance between you and him, your patientâand his patientâtests positive for COVID-19. Suddenly, youâre both exposed, and with hospital protocol leaving no room for argument, you have no choice but to quarantine together.
do you want the kitchen tour? by @witchywithwhiskey
when your already bad date takes a turn for the worse, the head chef of the restaurant comes to see what he can do to help. when he offers to give you a tour of the kitchen, you jump at the chance to escape, and your bad night turns into something else entirely.
behind closed doors by @andrewmiinyard
you took over jack and robby's spare room a few months ago and now you and jack are constantly at each other's throats. robby has finally had enough and he's hoping some forced proximity will do the trick. seems like it works a little too well.
temperature control by @mrshatosy
Jack Abbott was supposed to find a safer hobby. He wasnât prepared to find you.
you have no idea by @geminiwritten
even after swapping from nights to days, you just canât seem to escape the inconveniently attractive night shift attending. then a ptmc night out, a sparkly dress, and a not-so-innocent game of never have i ever leads to dr. jack abbot making sure you can never utter the words ânever have i ever finished during sexâ ever again
the art of mutual benefit by @softundermoonlight
âI will pay for your coffee,â you add quickly, stepping forward and leaning into his space. He keeps shaking his head, so, in a moment of pure madness, and lacking better ideas, you just say: âIâll go down on you.â
gentleman's instinct by @sun-snatcher
Sometimes you're reminded how merciless Abbot can be. You indulge in it.
semper fi by @hirukochan
Jack Abbot finds himself feeling oddly protective over the new night shift attending. He tells himself it's natural. You were the young widow of a Marine, a military spouse who brought the greatest sacrifice for her country - your husband. He watched you push on with gritted teeth, haunted by your own demons and trauma, all for the little girl depending on you. It was only natural. Any serviceman would feel an obligation towards your well-being. Any serviceman would want to know you were safe... happy... So how come, he can't help but feel like he is stealing another man's life?
ANDREW CODY
bambi series by @miasvelvetvoid
One secret changes everything. As the Cody familyâs carefully buried truths come to light, you find yourself caught between running from the people you love and fighting for them. In the end, loving Pope Cody doesnât just change your life, it changes the entire family.
here is my hand that will not harm you by @erwinsvow
against better judgement, you send a letter to a man at folsom with very sad eyes. against even better judgement, you send letters every week for years until he stops replying one day. and against everything you know, when he shows up at your door, you invite him inside.
sweetheart by @pearlessance
Everyone knows that Pope Cody's girlfriend is a real sweetheart. What they don't know is that, behind closed doors, you're a real fuckin' freak, too.
late shift by @in-ky
Being the Codyâs on-call emergency nurse isnât easy. A dislocated shoulder turns into late night gunshot wounds and before you know it, youâre part of the family. After a rough night, Pope needs some TLC. And who else can help him if not his favorite nurse? Youâre the only one who can stitch him up, physically and emotionally.
break me down and I'll call you mine by @flowersforbucky
other than the men he brings home on occasion, youâre the only person who knows that deran cody is gay. when your best friend becomes anxious that people are growing suspicious of his sexuality, you suggest telling people that the two of you are dating. everything is going perfectlyâŠuntil his brother is released from prison and you start feeling things that you havenât felt in years.
fate. by @andrewmiinyard
the three times you decided to flirt with pope cody and the one time you decided to take it one step further.
crush by @pittrabbit
the aftermath of overhearing that conversation between pope and baz
worthy by @stellamarielu
you tell andrew you want to start a new life with himâ away from the chaos of his family, and he agrees with another future promise on his mind
found out by @love-quinn
as his favourite waitress at the only diner in town thatâll still serve him, youâre popeâs girl. doesnât matter if you have a boyfriend, everybody in town knows you belong to andrew cody. especially your poor neighbours on the other side of your apartmentâs paper thin wall. youâd usually try and be more considerate of the noise, but with your boyfriend in the trunk of his car, pope needs everybody to hear exactly what he was doing on the night of the third. for alibi purposes.
TITUS DANFORTH
the hunt and the vow by @sargeant-bxrnes
you broke up with titus danforth this morning. by nightfall youâre running through his familyâs forest with a seven-minute head start and one rule: if he catches you before sunrise, you marry him.
the devil's favorite by @hirukochan
In all the years Titus had been alive, no woman had ever captured his attention like you did. Titus could not explain it, he just knew, from the second he first met you, he needed you like air. And he'd move heaven and hell if necessary to get you. Not his father, not yours, not the Lawyer, Mr Le Bail or his demons he had watching over you could ever stop him.
the lottery by @thatcorporategirlie
You return to the estate after learning Chester has fallen ill, and learn that the beginning of a new game is about to unfold.
mrs. danforth by @rr-after-dark
 As Titus Danforth's sugar baby, you don't know much of his secretive, wealthy lifestyle. But when he accidentally gets you pregnant with a potential Danforth heir, it's decided that you'll be joining the family. There's no manual as you're plunged into their world of extravagance and violence.
hazard pay by @spikedfearn
The Danforth estate was built to swallow screams, and tonight youâre the one cleaning up what the hunt leaves behind. When Titus Danforth arrives bleeding, furious, and far too aware of your hands on him, the private medical room becomes its own kind of trap.
please let me know if any of the links aren't working. I want to make sure everyone gets credited for their amazing work :)
 As Titus Danforth's sugar baby, you don't know much of his secretive, wealthy lifestyle. But when he accidentally gets you pregnant with a potential Danforth heir, it's decided that you'll be joining the family. There's no manual as you're plunged into their world of extravagance and violence.
Chapter Summary: After finding out you're pregnant with his child, Titus must secure his family's approval in order to make you a unique proposal: Become the new Mrs. Danforth.
Tags/Notes: marriage before romance, established sugar relationship, also ft. ursula and daddy danforth, meeting the family, possessiveness & protectiveness, obscene wealth, predator/prey dynamic, brat!reader, piv, mating press, creampie, oral (f receiving), messy sex, edging, denial, spitting, mouth covering, titus lowkey whipped already
Content: pregnant reader, canon-typical content, a brief instance of body shaming
A/N: since I already posted most of what was initially chapter one as a teaser during my 3k celebration, i decided to be silly and give you a mega chapter one instead!
Word Count: 14.1k
Ursula Danforth slaps one perfectly manicured hand across her twin brotherâs cheek. He doesnât even flinch; heâd been expecting worse. âYouâre so selfish. Stupid and useless like a child. Knocking up a sugar baby, of all things.â
Father paces across the large sitting room with a clenched jaw. Eventually, he stops in front of his son. âHow dare you do this to us? Right before the most important hunt of this familyâs life, too. I canât believe youâd be so irresponsible.â
Ursula sneers, âI believe it. This is what happens when a spoiled brat grows up. Poor baby Titus always has to have everything exactly how he wants. Probably never bothered with condoms because âit just doesnât feel as good, sweetheart.ââ
âDonât be so crass, Ursula,â Father spits in her direction before returning to his son. âI assume youâve communicated that abortion isnât an option.â
âOf course,â Titus replies, keeping it curt to avoid a verbal lashing. Or a physical one, given the tension thick in the opulent room full of blades and guns. Father demanded the conversation be moved to the innermost room of the estate when Titus told them in front of a few members of staff. This sort of thing is best discussed in private, even with the most discreet staff money can buy.
The abortion discussion had gone better than expected, considering you told him youâd be keeping it before he could even get to the âmy family would sedate you through delivery and then discard you before they let you abort a Danforthâ thing. Heâd given you a line about supporting you however you needed in order to stall you while he discussed what to do with his family. Ultimately, your fate wasnât his decision but a collective decision for the betterment of the Danforth name.
But Titus does, admittedly, dislike the idea of abandoning you. Despite your lack of status, money, or power, he feels anâŠaffection for you. Similar to the affection one might have for an injured bird. Heâd been raised to put creatures like that out of their misery, but your only brokenness was being part of the masses. That could be improved upon. So, to advocate for you, Titus swallows hard and offers, âThis may not be a bad thing. Our family needs an heir, after all.â
âNot under circumstances like this,â Ursula scoffs. âYou should marry advantageously. Within the seven families, at least. How could you even think-â
Father raises his right hand.
Silence falls.
âYou may be right, Titus. Weâre long overdue for a new generation of Danforths and neither of you seem particularly close to finding anything akin to a real relationship. Your mother would be horrified.â Father drapes himself in his authentic Jacobean austere velvet armchair in the corner, beneath a grand window heâs spent hours and hours ruminating out of through the years, especially since his wife died. Without looking at his son, he asks, âThisâŠgirl of yours: Is she good stock?â
Titus considers that. He imagines how very lovely you look obediently presenting yourself for him on the hotel beds where heâs taken you multiple times a week for the last six months, gazing up at him with reverent eyes and an innocent sort of expression that doesnât necessarily match your occupation of choice. âIâd say so. Sheâs young. Pretty.â
Ursula rolls her eyes. âOf course.â
Father gives her a lethal gaze. âDonât interrupt. This is important.â His eyes turn back to his son and he asks, âHer personality?â
âSweet,â he answers right away. Thatâs the first word that comes to his mind. Itâs the thing he likes most about you; youâre so, so far from everyone he knows. Kind and tentative and eager to find reasons to smile. The kind of girl who brakes for pigeons. After a moment of thinking, he relents, âA bit stupid, at times, but charming. Docile. Iâve never seen her disagree with someone.â
That seems to please Father. He doesnât like women who fight back, even his own daughter at times. He probes further, âDoes she have any family?â
âSheâs estranged from her parents. No siblings.â
âGood. How about education?â
âSheâs getting a masterâs degree.â
âIn what?â
âI donât know,â he replies with a chuckle. âSomething with books, maybe. Iâm not usually with her for the stimulating conversation, Father.â
âDonât be vulgar. Does she have a criminal history? Any connections in our world?â
âNo. I vetted her thoroughly before selecting her as aâŠcompanion.â
âBoring. But that could be useful in its own way.â Father thinks it over as he watches the gardeners outside tending to the hedge maze across the pond. Winter is beginning to melt off the extensive grounds and theyâre preparing for the glory of spring blooms. For vibrant fresh blood, too, in the coming months with the vernal equinox and other traditional celebrations fast approaching. He asks the final question, the only one that matters: âCould she be a Danforth? Or will we have to be rid of her once the baby is born?â
Titus thinks of your laugh, your ease, your total lack of darkness. Itâll be difficult to balance the reality of his world with you, but heâs intrigued by the challenge. With a steady voice, he admits perhaps the deepest secret of this whole situation: âIâd like to keep her.â
The tension eases at that. Keeping up appearances will be best. And if thereâs one thing the Danforth family does well itâs keeping up appearances.
With the first smile of the day, Father stands, embraces Titus, and announces, âWe can make this work, son. We will.â
Titus stiffens at the rare show of affection, trying not to reveal that heâs pleased with the decision. That would only show a chink in his armor. He wouldâve handled the other option, keeping you in the dungeon as a toy of sorts until the birth, but itâll be better for everyone if he has a wife and his child a mother instead of a nanny. âThank you, Father.â
âSheâs going to have to move in,â Ursula tsks as she, too, gives her brother a short but earnest embrace. âWe canât take risks with the baby.â
Father adds, âAnd there will have to be a wedding, of course. With all the families invited.â
âA wedding?â Titus gripes, âIsnât it enough to just-â
âNo,â Father interrupts. His fingernails dig into his own palms. âJust because you started this improperly doesnât mean youâll continue it that way. In two monthsâ time, before she starts showing, weâll have a wedding.â
âEveryone will know itâs a shotgun wedding,â Ursula points out. âEven the most asinine of our associates can manage basic addition and subtraction.â
âThatâs irrelevant,â Father insists. âItâs the 21st century. The baby will be born with its mother sharing the Danforth name. Nothing else matters.â He levels his gaze at Titus. âGo and tell her. I expect to see her moving in here before the weekendâs up.â
âYes, Father,â Titus agrees, already taking his phone from his pocket to dial you. Before leaving the room, he takes a deep breath and says once more, âThank you. I wonât disappoint you.â
Father gives him a wink. The thought of the first baby born to the Danforth family in four decades lifts everyoneâs spirits. Itâll be a good change. âCareful, or youâll make us think you like the girl.â
He expects you to make a fuss about it. Fully prepares himself to have to drug you, tie you up, kidnap you, and make it clear you donât actually have a choice in the matter, as distasteful as that would be to him. At the very least, he anticipates resistance. For it to take more than one brunch. Modern women want careers, donât they? Itâs part of why heâs always sworn off girlfriends and dating in the standard sense. Ever since it became relatively acceptable for the elite, heâs strongly preferred paying for the company of simple, complication-free women procured by the family lawyers. He doesnât want a girlfriend. He wantsâŠa pet. A well-trained companion. Something reliable and reliant. A pretty, obedient creature to recline on the couch who makes no demands and listens with rapt attention to his every order.
So heâs pleased beyond belief at your reaction to his offer, outlined to you at your favorite chichi breakfast place in one of the nicer hotels downtown.
You gaze up at him over your streaming mug and ask bluntly, âWhatâs the catch?â
âThere isnât one,â he lies. Smooth as butter. âI want to take care of you and the baby and I have the means to do so.â
âYouâd already be doing that just by paying me at the rate you already do. With my job and your payments, I can afford a comfortable life,â you point out. âBut you want me to marry you. Move in with you. So I have to assume there are rules. Catches.â You take a sip of the caffeine-free tea heâd ordered for you, savoring the spicy and citrusy notes. The ginger helps soothe your stomach. âLook, youâre obviously very wealthy. And I know youâre not rich because of somethingâŠnormal, if you donât mind the word.â
Titus snickers, âNot at all. Go on.â
âBefore you made us exclusive, Iâd been with a lot of secretive, rich men,â you explain slowly, âbut you donât seem like most of them.â
The waitress approaches your table. Titus rattles off quickly, clearly annoyed at the intrusion, âWeâll both do the three-course menu. Iâll have the foie gras torchon with prosciutto and figs, the filet mignon as rare as youâll serve it, and the caviar trio in lieu of dessert.â
The order doesnât surprise you after countless meals spent together. His food is always expensive and tastes of life cut short.
The waitress gives you a warm smile. âAnd for you, darling?â
âDonât call her that,â Titus says, curt and emotionless. âSheâll have the yogurt parfait with the pistachio granola, lobster eggs Benedict, and the baked apple strudel.â Then he gives you a glance that borders on affectionate. âAnd Iâm guessing sheâd also like the gelato flight after.â
âYou spoil me,â you lilt with batting eyelashes. Then you tell the waitress, âAnd a ginger ale, if you donât mind. Thank you.â
As she disappears, Titusâ typically flat expression transforms into one of concern, which you havenât seen on him often. He observes, âGinger ale. Ginger tea. Morning sickness?â
You sigh and confirm, âThatâs been the theme of week seven.â
âSeven weeks,â he muses, sounding almost wistful. âDoes that mean youâll have your first ultrasound soon?â
âMonday morning,â you tell him with a tentative smile. âYou can come, if you want.â
âI will. Definitely.â Titus sits up straighter and adjusts the sleeves of his charcoal-gray button-down, a nervous habit since his custom-tailored clothes always fit perfectly on his chiseled body. âYou were asking about rules. Saying I donât seem like most men.â
âRight, yes.â You touch his hand across the table and he lets you. Titus never asks for affection, but you know he craves it. Deeply. Otherwise he would never have sought you out in the first place. Sex is cheap; companionship is priceless. While rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb, you muse aloud, âYou donât brag about your money, which means youâve always had it. Itâs just a part of you; youâve never been without it. Your schedule has too much freedom to be a doctor, you donât dress like a lawyer, youâre too private to be a CEO or anything youâd want to peacock about, and youâre not annoying.â
He smirks at your analysis. âWhat does that rule out?â
âTech bro. Anyone who works in blockchain or AI.â
âSmart girl,â he praises with a short chuckle. âWhatâs your theory, then?â
âSomething dark and secretive,â you tease, clearly joking with the low, spooky voice like a Halloween recording you put on. He doesnât react like itâs a joke, though. So, more seriously, you say, âMaybe private security? Something with weapons; I know you try to be subtle, but Iâve always seen your carrying a gun.â That pleases him; youâve already noticed his danger and didnât flinch away. âI doubt itâs really illegal, like drugs, because youâre so clean about everything. I mean, my main point of contact the first three months was your lawyer,â you remind him with a laugh. Then you lean forward and continue, âRegardless, I can tell you have the kind of life where youâre not just going to marry and whisk away the first girl you knock up without some rules.â
Sounding amused, he sips his expensive cocktail and teases, âI canât just want to be an honest man for the mother of my child?â
âYou can, sure. But thatâs not you.â
âYouâre right about that,â he concedes after a moment. With a deep breath, he sits back in his chair and tells you, âI wouldnât call them ârulesâ so much as, perhaps, guidelines. Expectations. I wonât force anything on you. And I wonât abandon you if you go against them.â
Thatâs a patent lie, but he doesnât think youâll defy him, so he keeps it to himself.
You cross your arms over your chest. âLetâs get down to it, then, because I can imagine worse fates for this baby and me than having a rich, handsome daddy to take care of us. But I want to know what Iâm getting into.â
âVery sensible. I can appreciate that.â The first round of food arrives and he gestures for you to dig in while he begins, âYour first priority would be growing a healthy pregnancy, of course. Go to all of your doctorâs appointments, follow their recommendations to the letter. Youâd quit your job. Continue your classes if youâd like, but youâll need to cut out any unnecessary stress. Youâd move into the family estate; you can decorate and rearrange our building however youâd like as the lady of the house. I donât care about things like that.â
âWhat do you mean by âthe family estateâ?â You give him a teasing raised eyebrow; youâre the only person he allows to look at him like that. âYou live with mommy and daddy?â
âMy father lives in the primary mansion on the grounds, yes. Mother is dead. There are a lot of different outbuildings along the property; it goes on forever. I donât even know how many acres anymore; the lawyers buy up adjacent properties whenever they go for sale. Weâd be in my private house, which is further back on the estate.â
âLike a guest house?â
âAn eight-bedroom guest house, but yes.â Without giving you much time to process that, Titus goes on, âYouâd have some social responsibilities as my wife. My motherâs passed now, so youâd be the official host when our family holds events, which we do often. Youâd just have to look pretty, though, which youâre phenomenal at already.â As your cheeks warm, he assures you, âWe have a whole team to handle the planning side if you arenât interested in those sorts of things.â
You give a timid smile. âI like planning and hosting parties. Itâd be nice to have some occasions to show off all the fancy dresses youâve bought me.â
That makes him smile. Really smile. Like he can see you slotting into his life. âGood. Great. Well, you can have as much or as little involvement in our social circles as youâd like as long as youâre willing to put on one of those dresses and sit next to me adoringly when needed.â
âSo far, that fits my resume to a tee.â
âAnd, in that vein, there are certain standards of dress and, letâs say, etiquette, for lack of a better word, that my sister can help you with getting used to.â
âYou have a sister?â
âYes. Ursula.â He toys with his fork, hovering it over the decadent spread. âI suppose we still have a lot to learn about each other.â
âIâm an open book,â you retort with a cheeky smile. âYouâre the one with the secrets. I donât even know your last name.â
âDanforth,â he says quietly. Like itâs a secret. Maybe it is. âTitus Victor Danforth.â
âVery stately name.â You wrinkle your nose a bit. âDoes our baby have to have a name like that? Itâs hard to imagine calling a newborn Titus Victor.â
âWeâll agree on a name like any other couple,â he chuckles. âBut, for the record, I have family with much worse names than Titus.â
âLike Ursula,â you joke, earning a conspiratorial snort. You nod and drink some more of your tea as you consider everything thus far. âSo I have to learn to sit pretty and do tricks. Got it. What else?â
His voice darkens and so do his hazel eyes. âThe most important thing is that youâll allow me to keep you safe and protect you. Against anyone and anything. By any means necessary.â
Your own voice drops to a whisper. âYou say that like Iâll be in danger.â
âSometimes you will be.â
Not taking it all too seriously, you check. âBut youâll always protect me? And our baby?â
He puffs up his chest and insists seriously, âWith my life.â
No matter who or what tries to get in my way.
You narrow your eyes at him. âAnd youâll take care of everything financially?â
âYes.â Zero hesitation. âAlways.â
You donât doubt he can keep that promise, at least. When you take on sugar clients, you make sure to have proof of funds before agreeing to any arrangements. Titus passed that test with flying colors; youâre sure thereâs incalculable wealth behind the many, many zeroes youâve already seen. Heâs always driving around in tinted luxury cars, wearing suits by $10,000-a-piece designers, handing over heavy black cards for quadruple digit dinner dates with no dobut on whether theyâll clear.
With a tiny smile, you press, âAnd youâll marry me?â
âAs soon as possible.â
âCan I have a real wedding?â
âHere I was thinking Iâd have to convince you of that,â he laughs. Something unfamiliar is knocking around pleasantly in his ribs. âOur wedding would be very, ah, socially significant. Youâll be impressed by the guest list, Iâm sure.â
âGive me a teaser.â
âLetâs just say if a bomb were dropped on it, the worldâs economy would collapse.â
âYeah, alright,â you giggle. Heâs looking forward to the day you realize heâs telling the truth on that matter. âSo Iâd be a wife. Hm, okay.â You jokingly tap your chin and squint like youâre really thinking hard about it. âDoes that mean Iâll have to cook for you?â
âNot if you donât want to.â
âHow about cleaning? Laundry? I hate doing laundry.â
âThatâll all be handled.â
âSo weâll haveâŠservants?â
Titus canât help but notice the way youâre already saying âwe.â He doesnât mind the sound of it; youâre right where he wants you. Needs you. âWe prefer to call them staff, but yes, we do.â
Curiosity piqued, you press, âHow many?â
He starts running through the mental rolodex; the estateâs goings-ons donât interest him much, so theyâre at the periphery of his mind. âFull-time, on-site staff? We have three chefs â one in each houseâs kitchen, of course â and an estate manager who oversees a handful of groundskeepers, gardeners, and housekeepers. Thereâs an incredibly effective security team. Part-time? Lawyers on retainer, naturally. And we have connections for anything youâd want. Ursula has her tennis coach and her pet pool boy. Father has his favorite mixologist and, ah, massage therapist. Iâve got my golf caddy as well. Each of us has our own driver, but youâd probably share mine a while. Thatâs a high-trust position; Iâd want to personally hire yours for the safety of the baby. Youâd also have your own personal assistant to help with whatever you need day-to-day. And youâll be in charge of hiring out any childcare support you want, when the time comes. Nannies, tutors, those sorts of things.â
âWow.â Your fork is stuck mid-air. âSo you and your family areâŠrich rich.â
His lips curl up slightly. Itâs nice to be around someone who isnât used to snapping their fingers and having whatever they want in moments. Charming. âThat would be a fair assessment, yes.â
Titus notices a selfish, almost cute little shimmer lighting up your eyes as you ask, âSo I can have whatever I want?â
He cocks his head to the side and considers that. What it might mean to someone who didnât grow up in the world he did. âWithin reason.â
Your eyes narrow. âHow about a car? Like a really ridiculous one â a neon yellow Lamborghini?â
Almost offended at the idea, he scoffs, âA car? Of course you can have a car. I thought you were going to say something ridiculous like an elephant.â
You pout and cross your arms playfully over your chest. âSo youâre saying I couldnât have an elephant if I really, really wanted one?â
Feeling indulgent beneath your delight, he sighs dramatically, âI suppose I could reopen and repurpose the stables for the mother of my child.â
âThe stables?â
âMy mother loved horses. We were raised on dressage but never really took to it. When she died, my sister and I-â let those wretched horses free and hunted them with arrows â-decided not to keep up the responsibility.â
âCould I have a horse?â
He almost winces at the memory of countless on-site animals becoming casualties in the family games, intentional or otherwise. Still, because itâs important, he relents, âIf you want, sure. I donât see the appeal, but youâll have whatever hobbies make you happy and keep you occupied.âÂ
âDonât worry; I hate horses. Just curious.â You can tell heâs amused by your version of an interrogation, so you go on, âWill you still take me on dates?â
That puzzles him. Do you like these dates with him? Heâs always assumed you just see him as a paycheck, which he doesnât mind, but the idea of a real relationship does tantalize him to a certain extent. So he says, âIf youâd like that. I do enjoy your company, after all.â
âAnd sex whenever I want?â
A laugh punches out of him. Theyâre rare from Titus, so it makes you grin, too, for a second. He rolls his eyes and nods. âOf course; thatâs one of my favorite parts of your company.â
âGood. I wouldnât want to give that up with you, considering the, ah, quality.â
Blush tinges the apples of his cheeks and you know better than to point it out. Titus has never been shy about his sexual prowess, but he also grew up in a family where itâs not acceptable to talk about those things over brunch. Titus clears his throat and checks, âWhat else do you want to know to decide?â
âTo recap, Iâll be fed and housed and safe and spoiled beyond my wildest dreams?â
He nods, pleased. âExactly.â
You bite your lower lip and ask, âBut what if something happens to you? Iâd be giving up all my independence and relying on you. I donât want the babyâs security depending on whether or not youâre around for us.â
He doesnât assure you that nothing will happen to him the way youâd anticipated. Instead, he admires your practicality. You can tell his life is dangerous, but you arenât flinching. âYouâll be written quite handsomely into the family estate. Above my sister, actually, since youâll be the mother of an heir. Thatâs permanent, even in the event of death or divorce.â
âAn heir?â You almost choke on your food. âYouâre not royalty, are you?â
He laughs, âNot in the sense youâre thinking of, certainly.â
Softer and more seriously as you consider the implications of everything said so far, you touch your lower abdomen and ask him, âWill our baby be safe?â
âSafer than youâve ever been in your life here in the âreal world,ââ he says with actual sarcastic finger quotes. Then he squeezes your hand, meets your eyes with a new kind of warmth in his, and affirms, âI swear that nothing will ever harm our children.â
You smirk and tease, âDidnât realize we had more than one on the way.â
He shrugs modestly. âI always liked having a sister.â
âAnd I always wished I had siblings.â
âSounds like you agree.â
You let out a sharp laugh, the ridiculousness of the conversation hitting you at once. This is the kind of arrangement people agree to in the dark romances you read when youâre ovulating and here you are actually considering it for the rest of your life. After a minute of eating and thinking, you tell him, âI just have one more question.â
âAnything.â
âWill you love me, Titus?â
He takes his time thinking about the answer, which you appreciate. He isnât just going to tell you what he thinks you want to hear. Honesty is more attractive to you than his silvering curls or glass jawline, though those definitely do it for you. Always have.
Youâve wasted a lot of time on men who lied to you, who strung you along, who took advantage of your lack of security. As strange as it may be, the thought of someone being very clear about their expectations and giving you everything in return has an appeal after all of that. Youâd never have to worry about the things that currently absorb 90% of your time again.
Youâve finished your dish by the time Titus collects his response. Slowly and carefully, he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses each finger; you canât stop the fluttering of your heart in response. Titus murmurs, âYou may have to teach me how, bunny.â Gradually, he meets your eyes and offers, âIf it matters, in the time weâve known each other, Iâve already grown quite-â he struggles to find the word; you wonder if heâs ever been given ones for this variety of feelings â-fond of you. Which is unusual for me.â
A smile blooms over your lips. Relief punches Titus in the gut and heâs not so sure why. You take your hand from his and press it gingerly to his silver-scruffed cheek. âFondness will do.â
âAre you sure about this?â Your best friend, Natalie, asks for the fiftieth time as you finish packing your suitcase. Titus had arranged for professional packers, movers, and cleaners for your entire apartment over the weekend, so all you had to do was pack for a long weekend. âIt just seems a little fast to me.â
You shrug and try to brush it off, âIâve known him for six months already.â
She balks, âAs a client.â
âWell, unplanned babies tend to rush relationships,â you cut back. âItâs not like heâs a murderer or something; heâs just a rich guy who needs company. Plus, look at these pictures he sent me.â
You unlock your phone and toss it to her where sheâs rifling through your closet, taking her turn to pick over it since youâre going to be switching to maternity clothes soon enough and, it seems, designer after that. Natalie scrolls through the grand Danforth estate and her mouth slowly falls open the same way yours did when Titus showed you. Water features both natural and man-made, meticulously maintained flower gardens, a hedge maze, marble sculptures around the grounds. Not to mention the interior. Heâd only sent pictures of his residence on the property, which was styled minimalistically compared to the opulence elsewhere, but you could already imagine outfitting it exactly how you want.
Natalie scoffs, âAre you serious? I didnât even know places like this still exist. Are you sure this isnât all, like, a catfishing scheme and heâs just going to lure you into the woods and keep you chained up in a cabin or something?â
You roll your eyes and tell her, âAfter he made the offer, he showed me everything on his iPad. Titles, holdings, all the legal stuff. I guess his great-great-times-a-million grandparents built half the trade infrastructure in America and then used the money for real estate and investments and now they just have mega money. He told me that there are a lot of families like his that have old money managed by lawyers thatâs just accruing more and more money by being in banks.â
She raises a curious eyebrow. âSo he doesnât have to work?âÂ
âSort of.â You try to explain to the best of your understanding, paraphrasing from the spiel Titus gave that you admittedly kind of zoned out during, âSince his dad retired, heâs got a seat on the board of basically every company in the country, so he has a lot of meetings and travels a lot.â
Natalie changes into one of your dresses and inspects herself approvingly in the mirror. âDoes that mean your baby is gonna have to be a boring businessman?â
âOr boring businesswoman,â you laugh. âThis oneâll be the oldest, so theyâll have responsibilities, yeah.â
âThe oldest?â Her eyebrows go up again. âYou and gramps are having more than one?â
âHeâs not that old,â you start, a bit more exasperated now, âand heâs going to be my husband. If I want more kids, who else would I have them with?â
âJesus, youâre really serious about this, arenât you?â
âYouâre here pilfering my closet, arenât you?â The intercom buzzes by the door and you tell her, âFinish up; thatâs my ride.â
âIs that him? Mr. Moneybags?â
You peek out the window and see the dark-tinted black Rolls-Royce idling in front of the door. The white-gloved, black-capped chauffeur whoâs driven you around a handful of times before stands by the passenger side with his hands linked in front of himself. You mutter, âNo, itâs his driver.â
âHis driver? Damn.â Natalie takes the things she wants off their hangers and starts to walk you out. âWhen do I get to meet this guy, anyway?â
The two of you take the stairs together and you suggest, âAt the wedding, I guess. Two months or so.â
Natalie scoffs and shakes her head. âTwo months to plan a bachelorette party for a pregnant bride.â She squeezes you into a tight, warm hug. âItâs a challenge, but Iâm up to it.â
âI know you are,â you giggle. âI can have the driver drop you off somewhere, if you want. Iâm sure Titus wouldnât mind.â
âNo, thanks; Iâve got a job interview right up the street.â
Natalie insists on bringing your suitcase down the stairs, setting it on the stoop and scampering away before she has to âpretend to be fancy in front of one of your servants.â As she disappears around the nearest corner, you wave and smile at the driver, hopping off the raised entry to meet him by the road. âHi, Chip, thanks for coming to get me.â
âGood morning,â he says warmly. He hefts your luggage easily into the trunk and assures, âItâs no trouble at all, Mrs. Danforth.â At your curious look, he explains before you can question, âMaster Danforth instructed all the household staff to refer to you with your new title so you get used to hearing it.â
You raise your eyebrows. âMaster Danforth?â
Chip cracks a rare conspiratorial smile. âThe usual title for the eldest son while his father is still alive. His father is Sir Danforth, but Iâm sure youâll call him Father like Titus and Ursula do.â He opens up the back door for you and assures, âItâs a lot to get used to, but you can ask any of the staff for help with anything.â
You slide onto the smooth leather, lowering the partition between the driver and the back, which Titus never does. As the car leaves the city and starts the winding path into the countryside, you glance at Chip and pose, âIâve wanted to ask before, but now that Iâm gonna be family I think Iâm allowed to know: How much do the Danforths pay you?â
Surprised by your frankness, he just laughs, âMore than enough.â
âCâmon, you can tell me,â you lilt like youâre doing a heist together. âI can dig it up anyway; Titus says I get free rein of the whole property.â
âReally?â Chip chuckles under his breath. âYou must be awfully special to him.â
âWhat makes you say that?â
âNot even Miss Danforth has full access to the entire estate. Their father mainly stays in the front house these days, too,â he explains, âso Titus must think highly of you to allow you unsupervised access.â
You joke, âOr heâs lying to make me feel safe and thinks I wonât meddle.â
Chip glances at you in the rear view mirror, no joking in his expression. âThatâs also a possibility.â
You chew on that for a second and then press, âThat doesnât mean you get out of answering me, by the way. If Iâm marrying into a family where the staff are underpaid, then-â
Chip almost wheezes out a laugh, caught off guard by the assumption. âI suppose I shouldnât let you think that about your future husband.â He takes a long breath and explains, âDiscretion is expensive. Security is expensive. And loyalty is priceless. Iâve worked for this family since Titus started high school and needed his own driver. Most of the staff have been with the Danforths for a decade or more. Iâm sure the hiring process for your personal employees will be rigorous â background checks, security clearances. My starting salary was $80,000. By year ten, that had doubled. Iâve never had to ask for a raise; my salary just gets silently adjusted at the start of the year. Especially since Titus took over the familyâs management, their generosity has been staggering. If you include all the above and beyond benefits â he pays for my daughterâs private school tuition outright, covered every penny when my wife went through chemo a few years back â and the bonuses, it has to be about a quarter million by now.â
You let out a low whistle. âJesus.â
âSecurity all makes twice that,â he goes on as he pulls the car off the main road through a massive automated iron gate. Your skin prickles at the knowledge of getting closer. The view is shrouded by thick trees, making the whole estate feel hidden. âTrust me: Youâre surrounded by the most loyal, discreet staff in the world.â
You huff out half a laugh. âShould that make me less nervous?â
âNothing to be nervous about,â he lies lightly.
As the car finally breaks through the trees, the magnificent grounds come into view and the air leaves your lungs. You press your forehead to the glass to get a better view of the property. At the base of the grand front house with its storied old stone and hand-carved Grecian details being devoured by brilliant green ivy, you see the unmistakable shape of Titus in one of his usual charcoal gray suits, strong and broad in a soldierâs stance. Heâs waiting at the bottom of a staircase which opens onto a large half-circle drive that reminds you of something out of The Princess Diaries. A man you recognize as a member of his security detail flanks him; youâve only spotted him at the periphery before, lingering at the entrances of the restaurants Titus takes you to or waiting in the lobby of hotels. He makes a point of being unnoticeable, but you make a point of rarely letting your guard down.
You hear the gate shutting behind you, a thud instead of a click. Deep. Final.
Stopping the car a few feet from Titus, Chip slides out, opens your door, and smiles earnestly. âWelcome home, Mrs. Danforth.â
The moment youâre out of the car, Titus is lifting his arm for you to slip into, which you do.
âHello, darling.â Titus loops his hand around your lower back and pulls you close enough to smell his brisk, masculine aftershave. He plants a chaste, claiming kiss to your forehead and then holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger. âHow are you feeling?â
âGood. Nervous,â you tell him sheepishly. Before he can jump on that, though, you add, âNausea hasnât been too bad today.â
He nods slowly, examining your expression carefully. âIâm glad. Let me know if that changes; you can have whatever you want whenever you want now that youâre here.â
âIâm still waiting on my elephant,â you reply lightly, leaning up onto your toes to kiss him.
He hadnât been planning to let you kiss him in front of any staff, but heâs pathologically unable to resist you when you look so soft and so ready to submit to his plans for you. Your wide eyes are longing for reassurance, for steadiness, for him to produce the scaffolding of your new life together. When you step back down, he cradles your face and teases, âAll in due time, princess.â
Then Titus gestures for his bodyguard to step forward. Up close, you can see pockmark scars over all the skin visible around his dark sunglasses and black-on-black suit. Thereâs also a feathery brown bruise on his jaw and you canât help but wonder if he got it in the line of fire, so to speak. Titus introduces, âSmith, my personal security detail, will be yours while I hire a new one.â
You cut him a sideways look. âYou donât need your own security detail in the meantime?â
He gives you a cocky, handsome smirk in return. God, heâs devastatingly beautiful when heâs like that. The ruler of his domain. âI can handle myself, bunny.â
You needle, âThen why have one in the first place?â
âI like to be underestimated,â he replies easily. Not wanting to let you dwell on the implications of that, Titus continues, âSmith will check any and every room before you go into it and then remain stationed by the nearest door. Heâll also do some personal training with you on the family security protocols to make sure youâre prepared.â
You swallow hard and nod, extending your hand toward the bodyguard. âGood to meet you.â
Smith glances at Titus, who nods briefly. Only then does the security guard shake your hand â once, firm, quick. More scars over his knuckles. âItâs an honor, maâam.â
You gesture between them with a suspiciously pointed finger. âWhat was that?â
A smirk flickers on Titusâ mouth. Youâre too observant for your own good and he hates how much he likes it. So he explains honestly, âNobody is allowed to touch you without my permission.â
You narrow your eyes. âAnd if I give them my own permission?â
You canât.
My word is law.
A chill goes down your spine at the possessive darkness in his eyes. You might have your own security guard now, but thereâs a level of safety above that, one that only comes from being under the protective wing of Titusâ unyielding power.
Titus chews on his response a moment and then amends, âMale staff are not allowed to touch you unless itâs an emergency.â
You tsk and tease, âJealous, jealous.â
âYou really shouldnât talk to me like that,â he admonishes, but you know itâs more of a contradictory plea. Titus craves being challenged as much as he hates it. He canât tolerate it in business or from family in case itâs perceived as weakness, so he yearns for it from you, the one person who has no desire to actually challenge him. With a shake of his head, Titus dismisses Chip and then says, âIâll give you a tour of the central grounds and our home. Then I have to go out on business for the afternoon before dinner with my sister and Father in the main house. In the meantime you can get settled and play.â
You laugh, âPlay?â
âWhatever it is you want to do to entertain yourself,â he replies with a hand wave and a shrug. âExplore the grounds, interrogate the staff, snoop around all the places you shouldnât.â
You offer a small conspiratorial smile. âSounds good to me.â
Then Titus does something new and unexpected: He threads his fingers through yours. You get the sense that heâs practicing behaving like a normal, convincing couple. But you still notice that his palm is slightly clammy. Nervous. Titus Danforth gets nervous about holding a pretty girlâs hand for the first time. Cute.
For half an hour, he guides you around the few acres of land that sit between the three main houses, which are in a U formation. Thereâs a hedge maze that he warns you not to go into unless you have a few hours to kill, a drone to map it out from above, or a helicopter on standby. Then a tennis court (âyou can page our trainer from the gateâ) and a pool thatâs half inside and half outside (âheated, of course, with a hot tub attachedâ). At the center of it all sits a series of fountains with emotive sculptures captured in such vibrance youâd believe they come alive at night.
âThe tableau of Artemis and Actaeon,â Titus explains as he points out the features â a beautiful nude woman in a righteous stance with a bow raised, a muscular stag fleeing, a hoard of gnashing dogs tight on its heels. âActaeon wandered away from his companions and found the virgin goddess Artemis bathing when she didnât want to be seen. To punish him for breaking the boundary between the mortal and the divine, she turned him into a deer and sent his own dogs after him.â
You study the series of sculptures, water running down features like blood, and ask softly, âAnd your family liked that story enough for this whole water tribute thing?â
Titus chuckles and explains, âArtemis is sort of the Danforth version of a patron saint.â His hand drags slowly, pointedly down the center of your back until you shiver. âGoddess of the hunt. Sheâs a good omen for the family.â
âGoddess of the hunt,â you repeat curiously. âInteresting.â
He raises an eyebrow and starts to lead you toward the second largest house on the left side of the property. âIs it?â
You snicker and match step with him. âMost families go for, yâknow, saints of unity, love, that sort of stuff.â
âSheâs also the patron and protector of women and children,â Titus adds on the walk through the rose garden that leads to your new home. âAnd she chooses when to bring wellness or illness. Sheâs a good woman to have in your corner.â
You give him a coy sideways glance and muse, âIâll try not to piss off her statue, as then. I want to stay on the good side of anyone whoâs going to protect me and TJ.â
âTJ?â
âOh, yeah, the baby,â you giggle far too adorably to be allowed on the deathly quiet Danforth Estate. âIâve been calling him Titus Jr. in my head to try to get used to all of this.â
Something you havenât seen before glitters in his eyes at the comment. âYou think itâll be a boy?â
âItâs too early for me to even think itâs real,â you reply with a soft laugh. âI canât believe weâre going to actually hear the heartbeat on Monday.â
âI canât wait.â He gives your hip a little squeeze that feels much more relationship-y than he usually gets. Then he gestures proudly at a large swath of empty land. âWelcome to the final stop of our tour before the house.â
âItâs, um, lovely,â you offer as you gaze at the undeveloped ground, parts of it divided up with unintelligible spray paint marks. âIâve always wanted a half acre of empty space. My dream.â
âItâs going to be a space for the children,â he explains with something close to softness in his voice. Like heâs scared youâll reject the sweet idea from a man you know mostly to be harsh, biting. âI thoughtâŠWell, I thought it might be nice for them to have a playground, a splash pad, those sorts of things. The property isnât very child-friendly; there hasnât been a baby here in more than forty years now. Time to change that.â
Your heart grows about three sizes at the thought. Titus isnât just inviting you into his life; heâs carving out space for your shared future. âIf you didnât have anything to play with here at home, what did you and Ursula do for fun as kids?â
âWe didnât have fun,â he almost scoffs. You can tell the memories behind the sound are painful but far away, like reaching through a broken chain link fence. If he pulls back, the pain will become real. âMy parents were-â Titus searches for the right word a while before deciding on one thatâs close enoughâ-severe. Dour, often. They thought children should be trained and disciplined, not raised. Father thinks the idea of cherishing a child is the same as spoiling them.â
You shrug and give his hand an affirming squeeze. âI guess they got what they wanted; youâre successful, clearly. Driven, strong, powerful.â
âBut not fulfilled,â he murmurs, only loud enough for you to hear. He wouldnât want the staff knowing his feelings. He takes his hand and rubs your back almost absently, like a nervous habit. With a sideways glance, he labors out, âI think being a parent should be about giving your children more than you got. But I got everything. Always. So what can I give to my children, who will have more than theyâll ever need?â
âA space to play,â you finish for him. You lean up on your toes and plant a kiss on his scruff, unable to conceal the smile that comes at Titus talking about fatherhood so softly. âYouâre going to be a great dad.â
He blinks hard a few times. His organs feel like theyâre in the wrong order, but itâs not unpleasant. Winding his fingers with yours once more, he almost smiles. âYou really think so?â
âWouldnât have agreed to all of this-â you gesture to the ridiculous property all around â-if I didnât. Iâd kind of figured being the softie would be my job, but Iâm happy to share the load.â
Titus downright pouts. âI am not a softie.â
You nod toward the grass and lilt, âThe evidence to the contrary is pretty compelling, sweet pea.â
âThatâs too far,â he sighs, suppressing a laugh, âeven for you, my little terror.â
As you approach Titusâ house â your house â Smith steps out in front and opens up the ornate wooden door. Thereâs a golden, roaring lionâs head knocker that clicks slightly as the door swings open to reveal the marble foyer. No amount of pictures Titus texted you could do the place justice. Every detail is strikingly opulent from the golden chandeliers and Italian marble checkerboard floors to the sheer embroidered curtains and high ceilings.
The only thing you donât love is, well, Titusâs taste. You wrinkle your nose as he shows you through the sitting room and dining room. âYou really like black and gray, donât you?â
He watches you inspect his living space. Itâs been a very, very long time since heâs had a woman here. At home. âThey match everything. Itâs easy.â
âI guess,â you mutter, running your hand over a black leather couch thatâs smooth and cool beneath your fingers. You point out, âItâs a little cold for a family. I canât really imagine a baby toddling around, can you?â
âNo,â he replies honestly, âbut thatâs why I have you. Iâd like you to change it all so itâsâŠwarmer. Hire a designer or pick out everything for yourself, whatever makes you happiest.â
As your eyes rove along the under-decorated hallway toward the living wing, already imagining how you might redesign the space, you ask him, âAnd how would I do that? Will you give me a check or something?â
Titus rolls his eyes and laughs. âA check would imply a budget and supervision; I donât want any part in it unless you truly think my input would be valuable.â
âThatâs hot,â you laugh. âMore men should act like that.â
He hums, amused, and then reaches into his jacket, removes a sleek wallet, and hands you a heavy black card. The Black Card, you realize as you stare down at the centurion engraved on dark steel. âThat card is yours for whatever you like. Youâre already an authorized user on the account; I had the legal team take care of that. It auto-pays every month and I wonât even look at it, so I better not catch you overthinking your spending habits.â
âOoh la la,â you say, taking the card from him and turning it over in your hand. Youâre more than familiar with money, even his money, but itâs never been yours to spend however and whenever you want. No budget, no restrictions, no instructions. It feels almost like getting your first car; that shitbox meant freedom. Your eyes go to his and you ask, âWhatâs the limit?â
Opening up one of several bedroom doors, he tells you like it isnât even interesting, âItâs NPSL.â You swallow hard. No Preset Spending Limit. Before leading you inside, he turns around and gives you a mischievous smile. âIn fact, thereâs a minimum. To maintain our status with the company, youâll need to spend $350,000 a year on that card.â He smirks at your open-mouthed shock and muses, all cocky and coy, and touches the tip of your nose affectionately. âCan you do that for me, princess?â
âAre you joking?â
âI donât joke often.â
You balk, âWhat would I even spend that kind of money on?â
He laughs out loud. âUrsula could spend that much in an hour; Iâm sure youâll find something. For example, where have you always wanted to buy jewelry from?â
You bite your lower lip and reply, âTiffany.â
âRight, of course. I got you those earrings for Christmas,â he remembers fondly, especially fond of the mind-numbing orgasm youâd ridden out of him wearing nothing but said diamond earrings. âAny time you want, you can take your cute little ass downtown to the shop and get everything else from that collection. Better yet,â he goes on, taking his phone from his pocket and sending a few texts, âIâll get an appointment for you at their flagship in New York and you can use your fun new card on some first-class tickets for you and a friend and buy out the damn store just to show off.â Before you can roll your eyes and scoff out a response, he presses his index finger to your lips, kisses your forehead, and coos, âYouâre filthy rotten rich now, kitten, youâll have to discover ways to act like it. Now, may I continue my tour?â
You give him a giggly mock salute. âYes, sir.â
He debates jumping on it but bites his tongue, trying to keep a modicum of self-control with his regular staff lingering nearby. So he takes a breath and leads you through the open door into a vast, relatively blank bedroom, leaving Smith stationed outside. He tells you, âUntil weâre married, youâll stay here in one of the guest rooms. Anything else would be inappropriate.â
You nudge him with your hip, a little too confident. âInappropriate like all the kinky premarital sex weâve already had?â
In response, Titus grabs you hard by the waist, flipping you around and pushing you against the nearest wall, hand behind your head. Thereâs a caution to his touch, though, and it steals your breath away. Heâs certain not to be too rough with you. He cups your face in one large hand and studies your features intently. Your eyes widen as you look up into his stoic hazels, finding something dark and unreadable in them.
And then he kisses you. Deep, serious, claiming. Your knees go weak as he presses the curve of your spine, pulling you as close as possible to his body. It feels like a warning more than an act of affection. When he pulls back, he gently touches the tip of your nose with his pointer finger, drawing out a smile, and tuts, âYouâre going to have to learn not to talk like that in front of others. Itâs bad form.â
âNo sex jokes in front of the posh folk,â you tease with a serious nod. âGot it.â
Titus gives a low chuckle, looking at you like a puzzle. He traces his finger up your neck and along your jaw until he reaches your chin, tilting it upward. He turns your face from side to side, examining you, and you shiver from the intensity. His lip twitches at the corner. âWould you really prefer to sleep in bed with me? Why?â
You take his hand in yours and guide it down to your hip. His other hand instinctively follows and they roam around to your ass, which you arch out to be more enticing. He follows by squeezing your flesh and grunting softly under his breath. You ruck your hands up beneath his shirt and rake your fingernails over his abs until you feel him tremble ever so slightly. On your toes, you whisper against his ear, âI get cold at night.â
Titus sucks in a sharp breath when you take his earlobe between your teeth and nibble ever so slightly. He leans his head back and groans, âMmm. Youâre too powerful for your own good.â
âJust powerful enough.â Then you nibble your lower lip, avert your eyes, and add bashfully, âAnd I might need you.â
His brows furrow in genuine confusion. âNeed me? For what?â
You shrug and try not to sound too vulnerable. âI mean, Iâm pregnant. What if I wake up and somethingâs wrong?â
Titus sets his jaw, considering that. He brushes his thumb over your cheek and studies one of the many emotions he doesnât have much experience with: Worry. Lowering his voice, he assures you, âNothingâs going to go wrong. Not if I can help it.â
With a sad little smile, you reply, âMoney can buy a lot of things, but it canât stop me from being scared of complications. Or worse. I donât want to have to wonder where you are if I wake up afraid.â
At that, he nods solemnly, takes your hand, and starts leading you to the opposite wing of the house. He may not experience anxieties like that, but he understands that his job is to quell yours. âCome on, then; Iâll show you our bedroom. Donât tell Father; he wouldnât understand.â
Your eyes narrow. âWill you get in trouble if he finds out?â
âYes,â he says with a dark humor in his tone and a glint in his eyes. âHeâd put me in time out and take away all my favorite toys.â Heâd have one hour to hunt me while I remain unarmed. Titus presses a kiss to the center of your forehead. âDonât worry, bunny; I can handle myself. Handling you is what Iâm worried about.â
As he pushes open a set of opulent double doors, you poke his firm shoulder and protest, âIâm a perfect angel.â
âPrecisely my concern.â As you step into the suite, he raises a silent hand to stop Smith from following. Closing the doors, Titus strides to where youâre admiring the space, wide eyes greedy over the California king, the floor-to-ceiling windows with grand velvet curtains, the massive his and hers closets. âI know itâs plain right now; I donât have much of an eye for taste â except in women, of course.â
You smack him lightly on the arm. âFlatterer.â
His deeply ingrained instincts urge him to flip your arm around, pin it behind your back, twist you into submission. But then you smile at him and itâs so warm and open and trusting and earnest that he almost smiles back. âOnly for you.â
âIâm sure thatâs not true.â You traipse into the adjoining bathroom suite and gawk at the oversized soaking tub, practically its own pool with jets and a head rest, and add, âI get the impression you have to flatter a lot of people in your world.â
âThey have to flatter me,â he corrects. You feel his hand on your back and catch sight of him watching you in the large mirror above the double vanity sinks. His first finger trails up your spine and he smiles when you shiver. âAnd soon theyâll have to flatter you, too.â
âIf they have to suck up to you, and you have to suck up to me,â you muse, turning around into his arms, âdoes that make me the boss of the whole world?â
Titus cradles your face in one hand. His expression is completely and totally confident as he tells you, âI spent the first thirty years of my life watching my mother snap her fingers-â he punctuates it with a click of his own â-and get whatever she wanted from whoever she was speaking to. She commanded attention, power, money. Everyone listened when she spoke. She was the only woman â person â my father ever acquiesced to or listened to. Nobody on earth has more power than Mrs. Danforth,â he finishes, pressing a kiss to your forehead, âand very soon that will be you.â
For a second, youâre breathless, taking in the intensity simmering in his eyes. Then you avert your gaze a second, swallow hard, and look back at him with your usual mischief. âMommy issues much?â
Rolling his eyes dramatically, Titus swats your ass and laughs, âFather is going to hate you.â
With a raised eyebrow, you needle him, âYou say that like it might actually be a good thing.â
Titus confirms, âBeing hated by my father is always a badge of honor. He canât stand me.â Then he takes your hand, leads you back to the bedroom, and sits you down on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. âNow, I have to leave for some business before I introduce you to the family tonight, but I do have one thing I need to give you in the meantime.â
âA welcome home gift?â
âSomething like that,â he replies, walking over to his bedside table and removing a black velvet box. He kneels in front of you, your legs on either side of his shoulders, and your heart starts to pound. As he opens it to reveal the ridiculous ring inside, he begins, âNow, bunny, if you want a proper proposal with a string quartet or a sunset on the beach, Iâll do that, but for-â
âTitus, shut up,â you whisper. âIs thisâŠfor me?â
Your eyes are glued to the ring. Youâve never seen anything like it. Clearly itâs an antique piece; the metalwork and stones have been meticulously maintained and show a high level of craftsmanship. The large center diamond is black â an almost surreal color, both drawing light in and flinging it out, seeming at once opaque and transparent from different angles â and surrounded by a halo of small pearls and diamonds set in fine platinum. Itâs not eye-catching so much as jaw-dropping.
Your heartbeat thuds and whooshes in your ears as Titus removes the ring from the box and takes your left hand in his. You splay your fingers to give him better access.
âMy great grandfather had it made for his wife and my mother held onto it for me to give to mine, not that she believed Iâd ever find one. It wonât be the most expensive piece in your collection, but itâs the most precious and rare to our family name.â Titus slides it onto your finger and then kisses the skin just above it, his lips softer than youâve ever felt. He holds your hand in his and urges. âI never want to see you without it.â
âI should take it off to shower and sleep,â you point out absently, still staring at the ring. You flick your eyes up to his. âAnd I assume youâd still like to see me those times.â
âIâm going to have to start punishing you for all this flirting, you know.â
You raise an eyebrow. âIs that a promise?â
He shakes his head and lets out a sharp, amused breath. âOh, youâre in for it now.â
In the next breath, Titus smirks and lifts you easily, tossing you up onto the bed. As you shriek out a laugh, the plush fabric and thick mattress catch you like a cartoon cloud. Titus pounces on you like a panther while youâre still getting your bearings, hiking your skirt up around your waist and yanking your panties down hard enough to rip the elastic. You donât complain; for every pair of your underwear heâs ruined, Titus has always gifted you five more from nicer shops.
His fingers circle your clit hard and fast, working you up frantically, and you know exactly what his game is. Itâs one he plays often and well. Youâve got no choice but to enjoy the expert way he touches you, months of knowing how to get you off and bring you down painstakingly memorized.
Then, as you expect, the very moment your walls start to clamp down, Titus stops all touch and slaps your clit hard. The sting rockets up your spine and you gasp. Your thighs shake and he laughs at your mewling.
Before you can even start to think , he pulls his shirt off, casts it aside, and crawls onto the bed next to you. Then his middle two fingers are on your clit again and his lips lock onto yours and youâre moaning and whining and hoping, hoping, hoping he wonât-
He slaps your clit once more and you nearly knee him with the force of your bodyâs reaction. He stills your leg with a smirk and coos, âCareful, princess, youâll pull a muscle. Canât have that.â
You challenge him with narrow eyes. âThen how about you pin me down and fuck me so I donât squirm?â
âSo goddamn greedy,â he huffs. âYouâre lucky Iâm in a good mood today.â
âI wonder whose fault that is.â
You watch, mouth watering, as he takes off his belt and slacks. You even notice the brief hesitation as the leather belt runs over his fingers; youâve been known to beg for a whipping with it on more than one occasion. But heâs being gentle with you â for Titus, at least. He returns to you on the bed with a wolfish gaze, spreading your legs apart and admiring you for long enough to make your breath hitch. When you feel the tip of his swollen cock nudging at your entrance, itâs with a toe-curling gentility that makes your body sensitive.
Titus always thrusts into you agonizingly slow, no matter how worked up either of you are. He savors the little flutters and twitches that come with filling your pretty cunt millimeter by breathless millimeter. Once heâs seated inside of you, feeling the way your hips instinctively roll back into his and how your cunt is clamping onto him like it needs reassurance, Titus presses his thumb to your lower lip and orders, âBeg.â
And even though youâre having to actively hold back from squirming and moaning, you know he loves the chase, so you grip his curls tight and reply, âWhy should I?â
âGod, you fucking brat.â He spits on your face and you lick it off your lips, never dropping his eyes that trace your movements. âIf you wonât beg for what you want, then I expect you to stay there and take whatever I give you.â
Your eyes widen in a mix of lust and fear, right on the primal line that Titus so loves to play with. One of his hands goes down to cover your mouth. Thereâs a millisecond where his eyes flick up to yours, asking permission, and itâs gone as soon as you give an imperceptible nod. When you and Titus fuck, your minds run parallel to one another; the same temptations and ideas call both your attention.
Once his salty, heavy palm is clamping your mouth shut, Titus fucks you like he needs. Your pleasure becomes entirely secondary to him; he only touches your clit because it amuses him to watch you squirm and kick and writhe, unable to speak or moan or do much of anything besides take it.
When he hikes your legs higher, working you into a full mating press that lets him fuck you hard and deep, your eyes roll back and your moans turn into squeaks. His thumb continues its strumming on your clit as you start to shake from pleasure. He purrs, âThere we go.â
And then he cums.
Unannounced, unplanned, unrepentant. He pulls out and gives your thigh an affectionate pat.
You grab his hand and wail, âNo, no, no no no nonono! Titus!â
He lifts your fingers to his lips and kisses each one softly, âDidnât I say this was a punishment? You have to learn to behave yourself.â
You lean back, raise your arms above your head so that your tits are on beautiful display, and look up at him like an innocent, needy puppy. After a beat of charged silence where his eyes ravish your body, you say the one word youâre always careful to withhold from him until the right moment: âPlease.â
Above the bed like a god, Titus gazes down at you, panting and disheveled and leaking his cum. He tsks and sighs, âHow am I supposed to punish you when you take me so well?â Then he drops to his knees, hooks his arms beneath your legs, and tugs you to the end of the bed as if you weigh nothing. âWhen youâve done everything Iâve asked without complaint?â He slides two fingers into your sopping cunt, curling them toward himself and grinning when you arch your back and whine out in pleasure. He nips your inner thighs with his teeth and rests his free hand on your lower abdomen, over your womb. Leaning toward your wrecked pussy, he murmurs at last, âWhen youâre carrying my child? I couldnât possibly deny you.â
And he descends on your swollen, aching clit. The taste of his own cum mixed with your juices drives him wild. The taste of his ownership. After all the edging, youâre mere moments from tumbling over the precipice.
He doesnât make you wait any longer.
He growls into your cunt as you spasm around his fingers, the orgasm burning up your spine and boiling beneath your cheeks. Your back arches and he refuses to let you stop cumming, keeping his tongue just as firm and fast as you punch into overstimulation. Itâs so good it borders on painful and thatâs what he loves the most. The moment when you cry out his name and try to push his shoulders back because itâs just too much and only he can finally release you.
Your chest heaves as you collapse back onto the bed. Titus slowly withdraws his fingers from your pussy and licks them clean, drunk on the taste of the two of you becoming one. You canât talk or think as you rest the back of your hand on your forehead to cool it down. After a few moments of breathing, you smirk up at him and tease, âI knew youâd cave, you big softie.â
He kneels over you again. âI assure you it was completely selfish; making you cum strokes my ego.â
âMhmm. Whatever you say.â
Titus tuts out a chuckle and checks his watch before swearing under his breath. After a searing kiss that gives you the sense he wants nothing more than to start a second round, Titus sighs, âThree hours as my live-in trophy wife and youâre already making me late.â
You nip his collarbone. âBite me.â
âDonât tempt me.â He holds your chin and orders gently, âAsk Chip to take you downtown. Designer district. Buy an outfit that makes you feel perfect and be home in time for dinner at six.â
At 5:58, Titus knocks on the door of his own home with a bouquet of white roses. He can already imagine you rolling your eyes at his display before Smith opens up the door on your behalf. Titus is pleased to see that you let him open it without argument, already beginning to accept having others watch out for you.
You step into the moonlight and Titus hands off the flowers to Smith, who falls back behind you. For a moment, Titus is at a loss for words. Youâve always made a point of dressing up and looking beautiful for him; thatâs a part of your arrangement, a part of the business of being a professional sugar baby. Heâs even paid for you to get plenty of lovely pieces to add to your wardrobe.
But this?
Youâve spent the handful of hours since he left (and attended several excruciating meetings) pampering yourself into a state more akin to divinity than humanity. He may not have the eye for fashion that his sister does, but he can easily identify the trappings of a woman feeling confident about herself: Freshly French-tipped nails, sleek high heels with a thin strap around your ankle, makeup subtle and feminine. The burgundy halter dress hugs your curves, the silk crepe just structured enough to be formal but swinging enough to be sweet and flirty.
He wants to devour you.
And when he kisses you hello, he makes it obvious, dipping you far backwards and gripping your hip like it owes him money. He can feel the designer quality of the dress, soft as butter, under his fingertips. Then he rakes his hands up your thighs and growls against your ears, âIâm not going to be able to keep my hands off you in the one situation where I absolutely have to.â
You give him a modest twirl and ask, âYou really like it?â
 With his hand on your lower back, Titus guides you toward the main house and purrs, sounding both proud and possessive, âYou look perfectly at home in luxury, kitten.â
You try to quell your nerves as you walk up the marble steps to the back entrance of the home, where Smith opens the large glass doors to usher you both inside. Unlike Titusâ â and your, you have to keep reminding yourself â house, the main house is opulently designed, drenched in old-school grandeur. Everything is antique, hundreds of years old, in dark woods and rich silks. Itâs more like walking through a museum than a home.
When Titus brings you into the grand dining room, you can see just how well his father and sister match the decor. Thin, severe, expensive. His sister is drop-dead gorgeous in a very â90s leading lady way while his father has the sort of face and demeanor usually reserved for stereotypical evil wizards or vampire counts. Titus has to push you into their eyeline when you find yourself shrinking beneath their stares.
Mr. Danforth and Ursula both stand to greet you but donât move otherwise. Titus takes a deep breath and announces, âFather, Ursula, Iâd like to introduce the future Mrs. Danforth.â
Father offers you his hand first, but youâre clearly not supposed to shake it, so you just present your own. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your skin softly. âHow lovely to finally make your acquaintance. My son has sung your praises extensively.â
âThatâs very sweet.â You bite your tongue despite how easy it would be to tease Titus because you know for a fact he never wouldâve mentioned you to them at all if it werenât for the baby. You stick with a polite albeit slightly stiff, âMr. Danforth, itâs an honor to meet you.â
Titusâ gentle, affirmative pat to your arm almost makes you laugh â the situation is too weird for words â but you still hold back. Itâs a truly herculean effort not to point out how otherworldly this whole thing is. You havenât exactly met people who just reek of power and status, their presence so effortlessly commanding that you want to laugh so you donât cry or hide.
Then itâs Ursulaâs turn with you. She doesnât shake hands, doesnât hug, doesnât even speak for a solid thirty seconds. You can feel Ursulaâs eyes on every inch of you, dissecting and analyizing. Itâs like sheâs trying to see through your skin or maybe telepathically peel it off your bones. Youâre holding your breath until she finally says, âYouâre very pretty.â
âThank you.â Swallowing hard, you force a wobbly smile and tell her, âYou look stunning, exactly like I expected from how your brother talks about your fashion sense.â
She waves her hand dismissively. âPlease; Titus wouldnât know fashion sense if I smacked him over the head with it. And Iâve tried.â Before you can try to come up with any possible response, she gestures to your dress and asks, âWhere is this little number from? It looks appropriately expensive for the occasion. A gift from our Titus, I assume?â
âUm, yes, he sent me shopping today.â
She gives you a pitying sort of smile and squeezes your forearm in a way that feels truly predatory. âHeâs always so generous with his playthings.â
Titus clears his throat. âUrsula.â
âIâm just teasing,â she laughs without any humor. Then her narrowed eyes return to you. âReally, though, where did you find a dress like this in our dingy little city?â
You smooth out the fabric and tell her, âItâs, um, itâs Yves Saint Laurent.â
âLooks like something I would wear.â
You try on a soft, self-deprecating laugh. âI told Chip to take me somewhere you would shop.â
âMaybe Iâll go and pick one up in my size,â she muses, still scanning your body for every flaw, which youâre suddenly painfully aware of, coming up with brand new insecurities every second her focus moves. âIâd ask to borrow it, but yours would drown me.â
Titus cuts her off sharply, âThatâs enough.â
She pouts at her brother. âDonât be so sensitive, ducky; Iâm sure she can-â
âNo.â Youâve never heard Titusâ voice as stone cold and commanding as when he tells her, an order and a punishment, âNever speak down to her. Never.â
Ursula rolls her eyes and plops herself dramatically in one of the oversized dining chairs. She pouts and says, âFatherhood is already making you so boring. Now Iâm going to have to weaponize her against you so I have someone to complain with about how boring you are. Sigh.â
And dinner goes just about like that.
Mr. Danforth unabashedly interrogates you about your life, your family, your history. Ursula critiques your answers. Titus snaps at them both when they push too far. You just try to hold onto your fork and sneak bites of decadent food in between the family bickering. You can tell thereâs a kind of affection entirely foreign to you in the way they jab and dodge each otherâs barbs. The way rich people talk to each other â all subtext and speed â is surreal to listen to. Eyes rolled about memories in St. Barts and arguments over clients in Aspen; itâs like theyâre speaking a different language from the one you learned growing up.
Ursula pouts, leaning across the table and snatching your left hand into hers for examination. âYou already gave her motherâs ring and I missed the grand proposal? How tragically unromantic.â
Father sighs, âTheyâre doing things a touch out of order, darling.â
âI wouldnât want an extravagant proposal anyway,â you manage to squeak out. âA nice private moment between the two of us was perfect.â
âAh, so sheâs the one making you boring,â Ursula laughs. Then she lowers her gaze and adds, âIf you donât like extravagance, you may be marrying into the wrong family. Your wedding guest list is already 250 people long.â
âIâm definitely looking forward to all of it,â you assure as you desperately try not to sound either meek or ungrateful, âbut Titus is being kind enough to ease me into the waters. Trust me: The beautiful estate and stunning, personal ring made as much of a statement as any proposal.â
Father smirks at you with a pleased satisfaction that seems to surprise Titus and his sister. âWhat a diplomatic response. My daughter will be lucky to learn from your decorum.â
As Titus stifles a laugh, Ursula stands up dramatically from the table and reminds him, âIâm literally a diplomat, Father. Try telling the people of Monaco that Iâm anything but diplomatic when I personally broke ground on the countryâs latest arts center.â
âThat was for optics,â Titus cuts back, adding under this breath, âunlike my work in Geneva.â
Ursula brandishes her knife like she might really use it on him, making you gasp gently under your breath, and thatâs when Father officially clears his throat and stands with a curt, âI think thatâs enough family time for one night.â
âI completely agree,â Titus replies, rolling his shoulders before he stands up. After pulling your chair out and guiding you to your feet, he says, âWeâll see you both at the Governorâs Ball on Saturday.âÂ
Titus shakes his fatherâs hand at the end of dinner and, once again, you have to remind yourself not to tease him. Thankfully, itâs a surgical extraction from there and Titus has you walking back toward your house in no time.
After Titus dismisses Smith for the night and arms the extensive home security system, he meets you in the primary bathroom, where youâre unclasping your jewelry and examining yourself in the mirror. Titus mustâve had someone on staff put away your things because your bedtime skincare routine is laid out on the countertop. Before reaching for any of it, you bite your lip and ask Titus, âBe honest: Did I do okay?â
He comes up behind you, slipping his strong arms around your waist. âYou did great. Iâm only sorry Ursula was so very-â he struggles to find the right word â-Ursula.â
âI expected worse,â you tell him with half a smile. âI didnât expect you to stand up for me, though. To your sister.â
âUrsula is the family the universe gave me. Sheâs my best friend and my closest confidant â and sheâs a nightmare. A hellion.â Titus kisses your forehead and gently touches your stomach. âYouâre the family Iâm choosing. That means you come first, button. Iâm not going to have my children watch their father sit idly by while their mother is insulted. Iâm practicing setting a good example.â
You stand up on your toes and kiss him on the cheek. âThank you.â
Titus runs his hands up your spine and fiddles with the halter tie at the back of your neck. âNow letâs get you out of this very lovely dress so you can sleep. Do you need a back rub? Some ginger tea?â
You raise an eyebrow as you slowly take out your cleanser and reusable cotton rounds. âAre those real offers or are you teasing me?â
âReal offers. From either a masseuse I can have here in fifteen minutes and our chef or from me personally.â He tugs the dress down your body, guides you to step out of it, and discards it in the bathroom hamper like you didnât pay $3,200 for it a few hours ago. âNo funny business, just relaxation and rest, especially well earned after spending a few hours with my family.â
âI could probably tolerate a foot rub before bed,â you giggle as he kisses across the tops of your shoulders.
âGo on, then.â He strips off his own shirt and makes quick work of his belt and slacks, too. Looking deliciously sturdy in just his black boxer briefs, he leans against the bathroom doorframe and says. âFinish getting un-ready and come lie down with me, princess. Iâll make sure to get you nice and relaxed before bed.â
âYou want me to do my whole bedtime routine topless?â
âIâll grab you something from your closet,â he offers, frowning a little because he admittedly does like the idea of watching you traipsing around with your tits out. When he returns with a tank top and silky shorts, he notices you still havenât started taking off your full face of makeup. Too knowingly, he strolls into the bathroom with the pajamas and asks, all low and teasing, âAre you nervous to take off your makeup in front of me?â
You toy with the damp cloth, studying him in the mirror, and admit, âA little. And not just the makeup.â
He crosses his arms over his chest and laughs, âIâve seen you naked, kitty.â
You scoff, âNaked and made up with at minimum highlighter and mascara. Or in very manicured outfits.â
He offers, âIâve also seen you in pajamas before.â
âLingerie,â you correct. âYou donât really think I sleep in slutty little negligees and teddies, do you?â
âA man can dream.â
âWell, if you hadnât noticed, typically you rip those off me, fuck me unconscious, and then leave before my actual bedtime routine,â you reply, poking him in his hard chest. As you tug on the tank top and shorts, you go on, âI usually wake up around midnight, get room service on your tab, and sleep in my ugly sweats since you never spend the night.â
Clearly amused by the whole thing, he presses, âAre you worried Iâll rescind my proposal to the mother of my child because you arenât a model in your sleep?â
Titus closes the space between you, each step stern and confident. He takes the makeup removal pad and cleanser from you, gently lathers the cloth, and starts to work it over your face without saying a word. Titus says the most when he's silent. Right away, you melt beneath his touch. His totally sturdy gaze. Quietly, he relents, âItâs a lot. I know that. You donât have to come to the big social events right away; we can start smaller than the fucking Governorâs Ball.â He smiles when you crack one of your own. âIf you arenât ready to jump right into being my wife, there are plenty of other bedrooms you can stay in and have your own space.â
âI donât want my own space,â you whisper back. âIâm just scared of taking up too much of yours, I guess. Or not fitting into your life the way you expect. Of being Mrs. Danforth correctly. Not looking expensive enough or beautiful enough or-â
âQuiet now,â he interrupts, words harsh and clear but tone nothing but warm. âDo you know what I want from Mrs. Danforth?â Titus finishes wiping your face of its mask and then examines your products and selects your moisturizer. He massages it into your face and neck with fingers so tender you could cry. When heâs finished, he holds your face in one large hand and murmurs, âI want you to sit by my side and sleep in my arms. You. We have the rest of our lives to work out the details.â
For the first time, you feel the real you slip out in front of Titus. No flirting, no pushing, no hiding. All you can manage to whisper is, âThank you.â
He gives you a soft kiss and then goes on, quiet but urgent. âAs for worrying about your appearance, you have never been lovelier to me than you are right now,â leading you to the bed and sitting you down with your feet in his lap, he finishes, âbecause youâre mine. And thatâs the most perfect thing you can be.â
well đ§ââïž as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.
It is with a heavy heart that I have to let you all know that I won't be updating any of my works for a while. Not on Wattpad, not on AO3, and not on Tumblr.
A few months ago, I lost my youngest girl, Agrippina. Tonight, I lost Vipsania.
Vipsania was a stray kitten who came into my life during a difficult period. She originally lived alongside her parents and her brother, Vipsanius. Sadly, Vipsanius was stolen, and despite my efforts, I was never able to find him. When I moved out of my old apartment, I left her parents behind because they were local strays who already had several families looking after them. But Vipsania was still just a kitten, and her mother had already become hostile toward her, so I brought her with me.
For a long time, it was just the two of us.
I bought her toys, vitamins, treats, food, litter, and anything else I thought might make her happy. She was never particularly affectionate on command. I couldn't simply pick her up and expect cuddles. But every night when I went to bed, she would curl up in her little bed beside my head. Whenever I came home after a night out with my friends, she would climb on top of me and purr as if sleeping on a drunken girl was the most comfortable place in the world.
She was with me through some of the hardest moments of my life.
Whenever I cried, she would slowly make her way over to me and allow herself to be held while I buried my face in her neck and cried like a child. She never understood what was wrong, but somehow she always knew when I needed her.
When I moved again in April, I took in another stray kitten named Marcus. They didn't get along at first. Marcus constantly wanted to play, while Vipsania wanted nothing more than peace and quiet. Eventually, that became our little routine. I would sit and read on my phone while she rested beside me with her eyes closed.
Tonight, Vipsania closed her eyes for the last time.
And it doesn't feel fair.
Why can't cats live forever?
I've lost so many of them already. My first kitten, Orange. My youngest girl, Agrippina. And now Vipsania.
The only cat I have left is my clingy boy who looks so much like Orange that sometimes it hurts to look at him.
I don't want to lose him too.
I already have so few people and things that I hold close to my heart. Every loss feels heavier than the last, and right now I don't think I have it in me to endure another.
So for now, I need time.
Thank you to everyone who has supported my stories, left comments, sent messages, and waited patiently for updates. I appreciate every single one of you more than I can put into words.
Please hug your pets a little tighter for me tonight.
Rest peacefully, my darling girl. I love you, and I always will.
Summary: Everyone knows that Pope Cody's girlfriend is a real sweetheart. What they don't know is that, behind closed doors, you're a real fuckin' freak, too.
Warnings: +18 explicit content MDNI, porn without plot, established relationship, shy!reader, unspecified age gap, size difference, pope teaches you how to shoot a gun and touches you at the same time, face slapping, face fucking, reader has hair that can be styled, messy blowjob, reader helps complete a job, praise, car sex, reader makes out with pope over a mask so masked sex, restrained hands, creampie, overstimulation kinda, only barely lightly edited
Note: take that p w/o plot tag seriously cause uh....yeah. this is just me wanting to fuck pope cody bad
WC: 2.3k
[masterlist] [AO3]
Everyone thought Andrew Cody was a pervert.
And, really, how could they not?
They see him; all big and brooding, with wrinkles around his eyes and rough hands. And beside him stands you; soft and innocent, all shy smiles and quiet words. A sweetheart by every definition of the word.
He's older than you. Bigger than you. Meaner than you. All it takes is one glance at your manicured fingers around his broad bicep and your cheek pressed to his shoulder to know that, yeah. He's probably (definitely) taking advantage of you.
A girl your age doesn't know any better. Naive little thing. All you see is the handsome man that stands in front of you, who foots the bill when he takes you out to a nice restaurant or on a shopping spree. You see the way he stares down a guy who looks in your general direction a little too long and the way he walks just a step in front of you in a public setting, clearing a path of safety.
What young girl wouldn't want a man like that?
But what they don't see is the way you don't even flinch when you're riding shotgun in his truck and Andrew sets his pistol in your lap. They don't see the blade he'd bought for youâsharp and small, wedged right between your breasts every time you leave the house without him.
They don't see the way your skin prickles when he teaches you the proper way to shoot a gun, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, pointing the barrel at your reflection.
His hands are at your hips, thumbs resting at the elastic band of your pretty, red panties. Andrew's voice is low and slow in your ear. "Mm. Tuck your elbow in. Squeeze the handle a little harder. Yeah, there you go. Now put your finger on the trigger, baby. Just like that. And when you're ready, you just gotta pull it."
You breathe in slowly, and your finger presses down on the exhale.
The gun clicks.
"Yeah, that's it," he says, sliding his hands lower, beneath the crimson fabric. What he finds is unsurprising to him, of course. Arousal pooling between your thighs, your clit slick and swollen and desperate to be touched. He circles it slowly, tentatively, lovingly. "Again, sweetheart."
Andrew doesn't speak much on the rumors that go around about the two of you. He's sure even his brothers believe some of them.
It's to be expected, really, with that mousy demeanor of yours.
You put your hair up a different way one day and when Craig compliments you on it you get all shy, hiding behind Andrew's shoulder with your cheeks flaming.
He thinks it's real cute. The way you act all timid in front of them, murmuring a thank you with that soft voice of yours, unable to meet Craig's eyes all because he complimented you.
But only an hour later, Pope's undoing the clips in your hair while you look up at him from down on your knees, sayingâbegging, "Hit me."
And Pope does. Smacks you hard, one good time with his palm against your cheek. The sound is like lightning through the open air. He doesn't do it because he wants to, he does it because of that misty look in your eye, because of the way you moan at the impact.
Because of the way you look up at him through your lashes and smile real wide, giggles falling off your kiss-swollen lips, like there's no place you'd rather be.
He gives you just what you need, fucking your mouth until you're crying for it, burying himself at the back of your throat.
Each little gasp for air you make pushes him closer and closer to release, but what really does him in is the way your hand finds his thigh, tracing a little heart-shape into the denim of his jeans while you choke on his length.
Andrew finishes at the back of your mouth without warning, filling you until his release spills from the corners of your plush lips.
His cock still aches when he pulls himself out of you. Your pretty makeup that you spent all that time doing this morning runs down your cheeks now, and sticky webs of saliva and cum connect his cock to your tongue.
"You look so pretty, swallowing me down like that. My beautiful girl. Say it."
Your eyes are bloodshot and watery but filled with love as you look up at him. "I'm your beautiful girl," you say, smiling wide, sticking out your tongue to show him the mess he's made of you before swallowing hard.
"Yeah you are," he murmurs. "My sweetheart."
You've even got Smurf fooled.
They're having a family meeting one afternoon, planning out the details on how to rob a marijuana dispensary that pays its employees exclusively in cash.
While you're moving around easily in the kitchen, Smurf watches you from the living room with a drink in her hand.
Craig and Deran are bickering, trying to figure out a way to distract the night shift security guards that stand watch at the front entrance.
And then Smurf suddenly says, pointing with the rim of her crystal glass, "Her."
Pope shakes his head. "No. Not happening."
"Think about it," Smurf says. "You go in right as the last employee walks out. She walks up, begging to be let in, and says she'll pay extra. Girl like her? They won't expect anything. Just a pretty sweetheart looking to end her day with a little indica."
His brothers are quiet, looking between you and Pope, toeing the line of choice.
In the end, Andrew lets you choose. Makes it clear that if working a job with them makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, they'll figure something else out. He lays out the risks and the reward and reminds you to be honest about your feelings.
But you agree almost immediately and no amount of talking on Andrew's part sways you. It's over the moment you take his big hand, press his palm to your cheek and say, "I love you, Andrew. Even this part of you. Especially this part."
It melts his heart and fills him with this almost uncomfortable level of tenderness. He would kill for you, die for youâall to keep you here by his side.
The job goes perfectly. Andrew and his brothers are able to slip through the ceiling vents unseen, all because you're batting your eyelashes and making your shy little jokes to the guards out front.
They leave the warehouse with duffel bags full of cash and get away clean and undetected.
You're waiting three blocks away in Pope's truck, sitting casually behind the wheel, coating your lips in that pretty lipgloss while looking in the rearview mirror. But your phone is clutched tight in your hand waiting on a text of confirmation.
Pope makes Deran drop him off so he can set his eyes on you sooner rather than later.
And the moment you see him, your eyes light up in this way he knows all too well. Pope nods, adrenaline high as he lifts the clear plastic mask over his face just enough to set it on the top of his head. "We're good," he says.
The hesitant look on your face turns into a grin, soft giggles flitting off your tongue. You slide back across the cab to make room for Pope behind the wheel. You look past him, to Craig and Deran in the car with no plates full of stolen cash. "We'll see you at home," you tell them.
And maybe they don't understand at first, but Pope does. Of course he doesâhe can feel the way that wanting, lustful energy buzzes beneath your skin.
He puts the truck in drive and pulls out of the lot, but he doesn't make it two blocks before you're wrapping those sharp, painted nails around his bicep.
Pope just smiles as you kiss his shoulder repeatedly, nuzzling the cords of muscle through the fabric of his black hoodie. It seems like such an innocent, sweet touch. But he knows the truthâknows it's not only sweetness in your heart, it's hunger.
"Hang on, baby," he says, hand resting on the inside of your thigh, squeezing tightly. "Lemme pull over."
He finds a secluded alleyway that offers just enough darkness to remain undetected. And the minute he puts his truck in park, you're climbing into his lap.
Pope welcomes the taste of your hungry tongue. Lets you slide it into his mouth, over his teeth, licking and sucking like your life depends on it. He's already half hard in his jeans, but the second you tilt your hips, grinding yourself down against his bulge, he's done for.
"You lookâgod, you look so good," you whimper, hands around his neck. You don't squeeze, but rather just rest them there, thumbs feeling the quickening beat of his pulse through his jugular.
"Did such a great job today," Andrew says, fingers flexing hard around your hips. "My perfect girl. Such a sweetheart."
You whimper at the namesake, a term he'd coined just for you, his shy, gentle girl. "Andrew, please."
He knows what you're asking for. And who is he, after all, to deny a girl like you? Someone good and soft and so very desperate.
He reaches beneath you, between your legs to find the buckle of his belt. In one swift movement, he undoes it with a clink, and pushes his jeans and boxers down.
"Wait."
Andrew freezes.
At first he fears he might've done something wrong. Assumed wrong or maybe gone too far or pushed too hard. Like usual. Like usual.
His mind starts to spiral, because who could ever hurt you if not a monster? Sweet girl. Sweet heart.
He's a monster. He's a fuckingâ
And then you smile, and those invasive thoughts disappear as quickly as they'd manifested.
You bat your eyelashes at him with this innocent look on your face, and tug the plastic mask on the top of his head down.
Pope understands then. Of course he doesâbecause you're his filthy, sweet girl. His.
Your clit pulses and he can feel it against his cock, even through the cotton barrier of your underwear.
Andrew tilts his head, watching you through slightly plastic-obstructed vision. He waits for you to move first.
And you do so by leaning forward and laying a wet, open-mouthed kiss against the mask, right over his lips.
It's the most erotic thing Pope has ever experienced.
Because he knows you want himâthe awkward, quiet Andrew.
But right now, you're asking for a different version of him. A much more violent version of him; you want Pope.
The part that thieves and breaks and kills. The very worst of him. And not only do you want it, you're twitching for it. Breath coming out like a sigh, hands clutched tight, pussy aching for him.
And the realizationâGod. He could die. He could fucking die from how much he loves you.
He takes you right then and there. Pulls your underwear to the side beneath your skirt and sinks his cock into you in one hard, claiming thrust.
Pope holds your wrists together tightly behind your back and makes it hurt, because he knows good and well that's what you want. All the while your tongue laves against the plastic of his mask, breath fogging up the surface, a sick, perverted indulgence that drives him insane.
He circles your clit with his free hand, reveling in the way it throbs beneath his rough hands.
It doesn't take long. It never does. He feels the slick velvet of your center squeeze his cock like a vice. Pope doesn't let up, rubbing your clit until you lean back with your eyes squeezed tightly closed, chasing the release you've needed since the moment he'd asked you to help them on this job.
"Look at me," he demands. It's not a request but an order.
You do, mouth open to make room for the cute moans that echo in the cab of his truck. "I'm gonnaâgod, please please I'm gonna fucking cumâfuckâ"
He doesn't say anything. Just tilts his head and watches you.
It hits a second later, and it's beautiful. The way you fall apart in his lap, thighs shaking, fingers flexing beneath his hold, fighting desperately to keep your brain tethered to the earth.
Andrew fucks you through it. Circles your clit until you're squeezing your thighs together, running from the sensitivity.
He finishes inside you a moment later, cock twitching as his orgasm settles low in his belly. And when he's finished, spasming with the aftershocks, you lift the plastic mask from his face and discard it on the floor of the passenger seat.
You smile and kiss him softly and say, "Let's go home. I'm hungry now."
Andrew knows the two of you will take one step into that house and they'll all know what you've gotten caught up doing. They'll see the mess of his curls and the flush on his face. They'll see your swollen lips and the spit drying at the corners and they'll think, 'Jesus, Pope. You can't get off that poor girl for even ten minutes?'
And he won't say anything, of course. He'll just let them go on believing the rumors, believing that he's the one who's insatiable for the shy girl who's gotten caught up in his gravitational pull.
Pope will let them keep on believing you're just a sweetheart.
chapter one of pope's girl đ€ | series masterlist | also on AO3
summary: Fresh out of prison, Pope Cody wasnât supposed to look at you the way he did. But once you step into the Cody familyâs orbit, it becomes impossible to ignore the tension pulling you toward him, no matter how dangerous it feels.
notes: This is my first time writing fic, but Iâve been a long-time reader and wanted to finally try writing something of my own! đŹ I really hope you guys enjoy this. What started as a lovely, spicy little Friday night dream somehow turned into this story. I had so much fun writing it, and Iâm so excited to finally share it. A huge thank you to GM for being my muse and supporting this work. Having you read the first go at my very first ff felt incredibly vulnerable, and Iâm so lucky to have such a supportive partner by my side, encouraging me to share it with the world. đ€
notes (as of may 26): As I was writing chapter 2 (which will be out soon!!), I made edits to this story cause a friend helped challenge me to add more of the yearning between Pope and the reader. Hope you guys continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!!
warnings: canon-divergent timeline, swearing, alcohol, age gap (reader is mid-late 20s, pope is early 40s), pope is a yearner, obessive!pope, no use of y/n, mildly uncomfortable male encounters, pope gets possessive, jealousy, emotional manipulation, unhealthy family dynamics, mentions of sex work, SMUT (protected piv, making out, dirty talk, "good girl", light hair pulling), 18+
word count: 5.8k
this chapter's song: Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys
Please do not translate, repost, redistribute, or adapt this story on any platform without my explicit permission.
chapter one | homecoming
The bass from the speakers rattles through the Cody backyard hard enough to make the pool water tremble beneath the floating neon lights.
Bodies crowd every inch of the place. Girls in bikinis drape across lounge chairs. Guys you donât recognize are already drunk before sunset, shouting over music loud enough to shake the windows. Beer bottles clink together near the outdoor kitchen. Someone jumps into the pool fully clothed and comes up laughing while Craig cheers like itâs the greatest thing anyone has ever done.
The party is supposed to be for Joshua. J, as everybody calls him.
Smurfâs long-lost grandson, freshly introduced into the Cody house shortly after his mother overdosed. From what youâve heard, Julia never talked much about her family while J was growing up, which seems less surprising the longer you stand in the middle of their backyard and watch everyone act like noise is the same thing as celebration.
âWelcome to the family,â you mutter.
Chrissy hears you anyway. Sheâs beside you in cutoff shorts and sunglasses, lighting a cigarette with one hand cupped against the breeze.
âTry not to sound so excited.â
âIâm thrilled.â
âYou look thrilled.â
You move farther into the yard, already regretting letting her talk you into coming. The California heat clings to your skin, sticky and relentless, and the party hasnât even had the decency to get dark yet.
You spot J almost immediately near the pool. Skinny kid. Borrowed board shorts. Standing awkwardly beside Nikki Belmont while Craig explains something with both hands, loud enough for people three houses over to hear. Nikki laughs too hard anyway, tucking her brunette hair behind her ear as she looks up at J like the whole family is some kind of private ride she got invited onto by mistake.
Kid, you think, then almost laugh at yourself.
In reality, youâre only eight years older than her. That doesnât sound like much on paper, but in this world, it feels different. Nikki still looks at the Codys like theyâre exciting. Untouchable. Like danger is something you get close to for the story instead of something that stays under your skin.
âYouâre making that face again,â Chrissy says.
âWhat face?â
âThe one where you act like youâre above everybody here.â
âI am above everybody here.â
Chrissy barks out a laugh and takes a drag from her cigarette.
âNo, youâre not. Youâre late on rent.â
You reach for the cigarette and steal it from between her fingers.
She isnât wrong. Youâve been late on rent for almost two months, and Chrissy has been covering more than her fair share without saying much about it. You lost your diner job almost a year ago after the owner cut half the staff without warning. Chrissy told you the club paid better, and at first, it did. It was easy enough once you learned how to turn yourself into whatever men wanted to look at and nothing they could really touch.
Except men always wanted more if they thought they could pay for it. Eventually, desperation did what pride couldnât afford to stop, and you started saying yes to things you used to swear you wouldnât.
Even then, money disappears faster than it comes in. Everybodyâs struggling these days.
Everybody except the Codys, apparently.
You hand the cigarette back and lean against the fence with your arms crossed loosely over your chest.
âI told you I didnât wanna come.â
âAnd I told you rich criminals tip better than businessmen.â
âSee Baz yet?â
Your jaw tightens before you can stop it.
âNo.â
âCath here?â
You donât answer. Which means yes.
Across the yard, Cath sits beside Baz near the outdoor kitchen while Lena rests sleepily against his chest. Cath glances over at you, just once. Not long enough to make a scene. Long enough for you to know she sees you.
You look away first.
Cath knows enough. Maybe not every detail, maybe not every late night or borrowed room or cash folded into your hand like it made any of it cleaner, but sheâs smart enough to connect the dots. Baz never hid his habits well. He only smiled through them and trusted people to let him.
Baz catches your eye seconds later and grins. Heâs always been good at that. Like every ugly thing can be softened into charm if he tilts his head right and smiles long enough.
You grab a beer from the cooler instead of acknowledging him.
Chrissy nudges your shoulder.
âStill mad about Baz?â
âHeâs a pig.â
âYou liked the pig.â
âI liked the money.â
Chrissy snorts. âGod, I love your honesty.â
You roll your eyes, but a small smile pulls at your mouth anyway.
Then the noise near the gate changes.
Craigâs voice cuts through the music first.
âNo fuckinâ way!â
Heads turn. Deran straightens from his chair near the pool. Baz stands slowly, beer still in hand. Even Smurf goes still for half a second before her face opens into something bright.
Across the yard, Cath looks down immediately and pulls Lena a little closer against her chest.
Thatâs the first thing you notice. Not the noise around the backyard, but the way Cathâs body reacts before anyone says his name.
Then you follow everyoneâs gaze.
Andrew Cody.
Pope.
Fresh out of prison.
Tall and broad beneath a white tank top and an open flannel, rough-looking hands hanging at his sides, jaw set tight under the dim backyard lights. Youâve only seen photos of him around the Cody house before, rare ones tucked between pictures of the brothers and old family memories Smurf keeps displayed where everyone can see them.
None of them do him justice.
He looks better in person. Not in the obvious way Baz is good-looking, all easy grin and lazy confidence, or the way Craig takes up space because he assumes the room will make room for him. Pope is rougher than that. Quieter. Built like someone who learned a long time ago that being still could be its own kind of warning.
The years didnât pass through him cleanly.
You can see it before he says a word.
Maybe thatâs what catches you off guard most. Not the size of him. Not the stories. Not the fact that half the party suddenly forgets how to act normal. Itâs the way everyone gets louder around him, like theyâre trying to drag him back into a version of himself they already understand.
Craig reaches him first and nearly knocks into him with a hug.
âYou asshole. You didnât call?â
Pope barely reacts. One arm lifts late, more out of obligation than ease, while his eyes move over the backyard, careful and quiet, already annoyed by the crowd.
Smurf reaches him next.
âMy beautiful boy.â
She wraps both arms around him, holding on longer than he seems ready for. Something crosses Popeâs face before disappearing completely. Itâs gone so fast you almost convince yourself you imagined it.
Almost.
Sometimes after sex, Baz would talk too much. Little pieces of the family slipping out during lazy pillow talk you never really wanted to hear. Enough for you to understand that Smurfâs love came with conditions attached. She controlled her sons with affection the way other people used fear.
Watching Pope stand there in her arms, you understand that better than you want to.
Baz hands him a beer with an amused grin.
âWell,â Baz says, loud enough for half the party to hear, âguess Jâs welcome party turned into a homecoming.â
J stands nearby beside Nikki, overwhelmed and quiet, staring at his motherâs twin brother for the first time in his life.
Pope barely glances at him.
Then his eyes find you.
The world doesnât stop. The music keeps pounding. Craig says something to Deran that makes him laugh. Someone near the pool drops a bottle and swears. Baz keeps talking, though you lose the words almost immediately.
The noise only falls back enough for you to feel the full weight of Pope Cody looking at you.
Most men look at your body first. Thatâs easy to read. Easy to manage. You know what to do with that kind of attention. You know how to turn it into money, how to deflect it, how to make it mean less than it does.
Pope looks at your face.
Steady. Unreadable. Like heâs trying to figure out why you are standing apart from the noise instead of disappearing into it. Like he expects fear, or interest, or whatever people usually give men with stories attached to their names.
You give him none of it.
You just look back.
Something in his expression shifts.
Chrissy leans closer immediately.
âOh my God.â
âWhat?â
âHeâs staring at you.â
You keep your face neutral, even though something twists low in your stomach.
âMaybe he stares at everybody like that.â
âNo,â Chrissy says, voice lower now. âThat man looks like heâs deciding whether to kill somebody orâŠâ
You glance at her.
âOr?â
âI donât know. Something worse.â
You almost laugh, but it doesnât make it out.
Because Pope is still looking at you.
And because youâre still looking back.
For the first time since he stepped into the yard, something faint changes in his face. Surprise, maybe. Like he expected you to look away.
Truthfully, youâve seen men far worse than Pope Cody. Men who smiled while hurting people. Men who cornered girls in apartment hallways. Men who thought money bought affection, gratitude and silence.
Pope looks dangerous.
But not cruel.
Thereâs a difference.
And against every good instinct you have left, you want to know what it is.
As the night drags on, the party slowly empties.
Cath eventually takes Lena home after a quiet, tense argument with Baz near the kitchen. You donât catch all of it, only Cathâs low voice and Bazâs laugh cutting through it like he thinks being charming is the same thing as being forgiven. On her way out, Cath pauses beside you for half a second. Neither of you speaks, but her eyes soften slightly.
Not warm exactly.
Tired.
Like maybe you arenât really the problem anymore.
Then Lena tugs at her hand, and Cath leaves without looking back.
By midnight, only the usual stragglers remain. Half-drunk surfers. Girls floating lazily in the pool. Craig disappears upstairs with two blondes hanging off his shoulders. Deran sits by himself in the living room nursing a beer, one foot propped against the coffee table while he watches everything with the bored irritation of someone who already knows how every Cody night ends.
J and Nikki sit together near the patio steps talking quietly while Nikki leans into him.
Kids, you think again, letting out a small laugh under your breath.
Pope barely says a word all night, but every time you look up, his gaze finds you again. Not casual. Not even subtle. Deliberate enough to stay with you after you look away, leaving heat low in your stomach and a strange awareness crawling over your skin.
Inside the house, Smurf gathers her boys in the living room while the muffled bass from outside vibrates through the walls. You stay near the doorway with your beer in hand, close enough to see them but far enough to avoid getting folded into whatever this is supposed to become.
Then Baz looks over.
âHey, baby.â
He whistles softly, crooking two fingers toward himself like heâs calling you over from a stage.
You already hate his tone. The way he says baby like money and a few nights together gave him the right to sound familiar in front of his family.
Baz lounges across the couch while Pope sits nearby with his elbows resting on his knees, beer dangling loosely from one hand. Smurf watches from her chair with a drink balanced between her fingers, quiet amusement already settling over her face like she knows something entertaining is about to happen.
âCâmere,â Baz says.
You walk closer slowly, mostly because refusing would make more of a scene than you want to make. As soon as you pass the couch, Bazâs hand brushes the small of your back, lingering too low for comfort. You shift forward before he can touch you properly, slipping out of reach easily enough that his drunk ass doesnât even seem to notice.
Pope does.
His eyes drop for half a second to the space Bazâs hand almost claimed, then lift back to Baz.
Baz grins wider.
âGot a welcome home gift for Pope.â
Popeâs jaw tightens.
âBaz.â
âWhat?â Baz laughs, looking around the room like he expects everyone to join him. âCome on, man. You just spent three years locked up. Thought maybe itâs time you got back in the saddle.â
âWhat I do ainât your fuckinâ business,â Pope says.
The room quiets faster than you expect.
Not completely. Music still hums through the walls, someone outside still laughs too loudly by the pool, but everything in the living room pulls tighter around Popeâs voice. Deranâs eyes flick from Baz to Pope. Even Smurf goes still, though her expression barely changes.
Baz either doesnât notice or doesnât care.
He looks back toward you with that grin you once found charming. Now you mostly want to smash the beer bottle in your hand over his face.
âShow him a good time,â Baz says.
Then he pulls a few hundred-dollar bills from his back pocket and slides them into the small gap between your shorts and bikini bottoms.
Your whole body goes still.
Not because of the money. Youâve taken money before. Youâve taken it from worse men than Baz, in worse rooms, with worse hands on you.
Itâs the familiarity.
The way he turns humiliation into a joke and waits for everyone else to laugh so he doesnât have to admit what heâs doing.
Popeâs eyes flick down, catching the bills tucked against your skin. His fingers tighten around the beer bottle until his knuckles pale.
Then he stands.
âI told you to shut up, Baz.â
You donât move.
Pope isnât loud. He just stands perfectly still in the middle of the room, broad shoulders squared, eyes locked on Baz like the rest of you have disappeared. For one second, you understand why people step carefully around him.
âRelax,â Baz says, still grinning. He looks back at you, lifting his hands like heâs being generous. âDonât be scared of him, babe. Heâs just⊠intense.â
The joke lands wrong.
You see it in Popeâs face. A brief change near his eyes, gone before anyone else could name it. His mouth tightens, then smooths out again. He buries the reaction so fast it almost makes the room feel uglier.
Like heâs used to doing it. Like everybody in this house knows exactly where to press and exactly how much pressure it takes.
Before you can second-guess yourself, you pull the money from your shorts and hold it between two fingers.
Then you step toward Pope.
âCome on,â you say, looking at him and not Baz. âAt least this time itâll be worth it.â
You keep your eyes on Pope.
For half a second, nobody says anything.
Then Craig barks out a laugh somewhere behind you.
Baz points at you, delighted despite himself. âSee? This is why I like her.â
Even Smurf laughs softly into her drink.
But Pope doesnât look at them.
He looks at you.
Then he smiles.
Itâs small, quick and gone almost immediately, but it changes his whole face for the brief second you get to see it. Something in him loosens. Not much. Just enough to make your stomach dip.
The room keeps making noise around him, but all you can feel is that look.
Pope takes one step closer.
âWeâre not stayinâ here.â
Baz raises his eyebrows, smug again.
âAtta boy.â
Popeâs eyes cut toward him.
Not enough to start something.
Enough to end the joke.
âI got a hotel,â Pope says.
Smurfâs smile warms like the whole thing pleases her now that she gets to call it harmless.
âSuiteâs nice and quiet.â
You shrug lightly and turn back to Pope.
âLead the way.â
The whistles and jeers follow you both out of the living room, through the hall and all the way to the front door. Pope doesnât touch you until youâre outside.
Then his hand finds the small of your back.
Not where Baz touched you.
Higher.
Steadier.
As if he knows the difference matters.
The drive to the hotel stays quiet.
Pope drives with both hands tight around the wheel while streetlights flash across his face. Every so often, when the car slows at a red light, his eyes shift toward you. Quick, careful glances. Gone the second you notice.
Even with the windows down, the heat still clings to your skin. It gathers at the back of your neck, along the bend of your knees, beneath the waistband of your shorts. You wipe a bead of sweat from your throat before rubbing your palms against your legs.
When you look up again, Popeâs gaze drops lower.
His eyes stay on your thighs before flicking back to the road, his jaw tightening as if the sight costs him something to ignore. He looks too still behind the wheel, too controlled, and for the first time all night, you wonder what it would take to make him stop pretending patience comes easily.
The thought stays with you longer than it should.
You glance around the car, wondering who it belongs to. Baz, maybe. Or Smurf. Maybe she handed Pope the keys before he left.
You want to fill the silence. Usually, you would. Men usually liked easy conversation. Fake intimacy. Something soft enough to make the transaction feel less obvious.
But Pope doesnât ask you to perform.
He only drives, quiet and watchful, moving through the dark at his own pace.
So you stay quiet too.
The hotel suite surprises you.
Itâs bigger than you expected and spotless, almost aggressively so. White sheets pulled tight across the bed. Pillows untouched. Empty surfaces. Nothing out of place except the two of you standing in it.
âJesus,â you mutter, looking around. âThis roomâs bigger than my apartment.â
Pope shuts the door behind you and locks it.
âI like it clean,â he says immediately.
His eyes move once around the room, checking everything without seeming to think about it. The lock. The window. The bathroom door left half-open. Then, after a beat, he adds, âQuiet.â
Thereâs exhaustion buried beneath his voice, deep enough that you hear it before you fully understand why.
You glance around again, taking in the neat white sheets and the empty nightstands. Chrissy always teases you for keeping your apartment Monica-clean, which reminds you that before she dragged you to the party, you had been perfectly content staying home and watching Friends again. Even after seeing the show a thousand times, it still comforts you. You remember sitting at the kitchen table doing homework while your grandma cooked dinner and the laugh track played softly in the background.
His stare pulls you back to the present.
He stands near the foot of the bed, watching you with the same quiet focus heâs had all night. Steady enough that you feel it before you decide what to do with it.
You step closer and reach toward his chest.
His hand catches your wrist instantly.
Not hard.
Fast.
His breathing changes before his expression does.
âI donât like being touched.â
You study him for a second. Thereâs no anger in his voice. Just a line drawn so quickly and clearly that you get the feeling people have crossed it before and regretted it.
You nod once.
âOkay.â
Something shifts in his face, almost too quick to catch. Like he expected you to make a joke, push back or take it personally. You do none of those things. You only let your hand fall.
The room goes quiet again.
âYou just got out?â you ask softly. âHowâs it feel?â
He doesnât answer. His attention moves over you instead, sharper now, and he steps closer until the air between you changes. Close enough for you to feel the warmth coming off him. Close enough for him to smell the cigarettes, sunscreen and lingering heat from outside still clinging to your skin.
âTake your clothes off,â he says quietly. âKeep your eyes on me.â
The command cuts cleanly through the silence.
You hold his gaze and pull your shirt over your head. Then your shorts. Your fingers find the strings of your bikini, loosening one side, then the other, until the fabric drops to the floor beside the bed.
His breathing changes again.
He watches every movement like he is waiting for hesitation, fear or regret.
None comes.
âOn the bed.â
You climb onto the mattress and sit near the edge.
For a moment, he only stares at you. You can see the want in him now, clear and heavy, pressing against whatever control heâs trying to keep in place. His hand flexes once at his side before going still again.
Then he leans down and kisses you.
Your teeth knock together the first time, and for half a second you think he might pull away, embarrassed by it.
He doesnât.
Pope kisses you again, rougher this time, one hand braced against the mattress beside your thigh, the other hovering near your waist like he wants to touch everywhere at once and doesnât trust himself to pick a place. There is nothing smooth about him. Nothing rehearsed. Nothing easy. Baz always knew exactly how to touch people. He moved through women with a confidence of someone used to being wanted, used to taking charm and making it feel like generosity.
This isnât that.
This is instinct. Want. Years of loneliness with nowhere else to go.
Somehow, that makes you kiss him back harder.
A rough sound leaves him when your mouth opens under his. His hand lands on your waist, gripping too tight for half a second before loosening. That tiny correction sends heat through you because heâs trying. Even now. Even with his body leaning into yours like stopping might kill him.
âYou okay?â you breathe.
His eyes flick to yours.
âYeah.â
Pope presses you back against the bed, his body following, heat and weight settling over you. His hand moves down your side, rough palm dragging over your chest, your stomach, your hip, then lower. Not smooth. Not patient. He tries to be, but the hunger keeps breaking through, making his touch uneven in a way that has your breath catching before he even gets where you want him.
âFuââ The sound breaks off when his fingers find you.
His eyes lift immediately.
âThere?â
You nod too quickly.
âWords.â
âYeah.â
His jaw tightens. His fingers move again, learning the reaction before you can hide it.
âGood?â
âYeah,â you breathe. âSo good.â
His mouth drops to your neck, his breathing hot and uneven against your skin while his fingers keep moving with the same pressure. Pope isnât gentle exactly, not in the way men usually try to be gentle when they want credit for it. Heâs careful in pieces. Rough, then checking. Hungry, then holding back. Like heâs fighting himself and losing a little more every time you make a sound.
âLook at you,â he murmurs.
Your body answers before you can stop it.
He feels it.
His hand moves back up your body, lingering against your stomach before travelling higher. When he reaches your mouth, he pauses for half a second, dark eyes locked on yours.
Then he lets you taste yourself on his fingers.
Your lips part around them, and his breathing catches hard enough to make his chest move against yours.
âGood girl,â he whispers near your ear.
The words move through you fast and embarrassing and impossible to hide. Your thighs press together around him.
Pope pulls back suddenly and lifts his shirt over his head. Up close, you notice details you hadnât before. The size of his arms. The freckles scattered across his skin. The light colour of the fine hair along his forearms beneath the warm glow of the lamp beside the bed.
His belt comes undone too quickly. His jeans get shoved down just enough. He tears open the condom wrapper with his teeth, his eyes cutting back to you as he rolls it on with impatient hands.
âYou want me?â
The question catches you off guard because it doesnât sound cocky.
It sounds like he needs to hear it.
You nod.
His hand finds your jaw.
âSay it.â
Your throat tightens.
âI want you.â
His breath leaves him slowly.
âAgain.â
âI want you.â
Something in his face shifts.
He leans down and kisses you again, one hand braced beside your head while the other guides himself closer. When he pushes into you, itâs rougher than he means it to be. You feel the way he tries to slow halfway through, jaw locked, breath breaking against your mouth as if the first tight heat of you almost takes his knees out from under him.
âFuââ he starts, then stops, forehead dropping near your shoulder.
Your fingers curl into the sheets.
His eyes lift to yours.
He starts slow, but it only lasts a few thrusts. His control breaks in pieces, each one smaller than the last. His hand grips your hip, then your waist, then the sheet beside your head. Every movement feels urgent, almost starved, like his body remembers how long it went without this.
He kisses you hard, then messier, missing your mouth once before finding it again. His breathing keeps catching in the spaces between. You feel him trying to stay present, trying to watch your face, trying not to disappear completely into the heat of you.
Then he shifts, rolling you onto your stomach in one swift movement. His hands grip your hips and pull you back against him, urgent enough to steal your breath. The sharp sting of his palm against your ass makes you gasp, fingers twisting in the sheet.
He stills.
Just for half a second.
You glance back over your shoulder.
The look on his face nearly undoes you. Dark-eyed and breathing hard, all hunger and restraint, still watching for the moment you tell him no.
Instead, you press back against him.
Thatâs all the permission he needs.
He pushes into you again, deeper this time, and both of you make a broken sound at once. His pace turns rougher. Less controlled. He leans over you, body covering yours, his mouth near your ear.
âTell me,â he says.
You can barely hear yourself over your own breathing.
âWhat?â
âTell me you want it.â
âI want it.â
His hand slides down your arm, finding yours against the mattress. He pins it there, not trapping you, not really. Holding on. Keeping you with him because this already feels like too much and not enough.
âAgain.â
âI want this.â
His breath breaks.
âMe.â
Your eyes shut.
âI want you, Pope.â
A rough sound leaves him, low and almost helpless.
After that, the room narrows to heat, pressure and the sound of him losing the fight with himself. His hand stays over yours. His other arm slides beneath your stomach, pulling you back into every thrust, keeping you close enough for his chest to press against your spine. Every time you gasp, he reacts. Every time your body tightens, his rhythm falters.
âClose?â he asks.
You nod into the pillow.
âWords.â
âYeah.â
âGood.â
You come long and hard with your face buried in the pillow, your body tightening around him as pleasure rushes through you hard enough to make the room blur at the edges. He holds you through it, hips still moving, breathing turning ragged behind you.
âFuck,â he mutters. âFuck, I canâtââ
He lets go of your hand only to slide his arm around your waist, pulling you upright against his chest. Your back presses to him, your head falling against his shoulder while his hand spreads wide over your stomach.
âWhat do you want?â he asks, voice strained and uneven.
You can feel how close he is. How hard he is trying not to finish without hearing it from you first.
You turn your face slightly toward his.
âYou.â
His eyes close for half a second.
âAll of you.â
That does it.
His mouth presses hard against your shoulder as he comes, body shuddering behind yours, his arm locked around your waist like he needs proof youâre still there. Even through the thin layer of protection between you, you feel the tension leave him in sharp, uneven waves.
For a while, neither of you moves.
His breathing slows against your skin, but his arm stays around you. His hand moves once over your stomach, then stills there, heavy and warm.
Every touch still feels hungry. Possessive, maybe. But underneath that, thereâs something else.
Like he needs proof youâre still with him.
Like stopping might leave him with nothing.
Like this, whatever this is, reached some place in him he didnât mean to show you.
And beneath the roughness, beneath the control, beneath the way he holds on like he doesnât know what happens when he lets go, you feel the same thing you noticed the second he walked into the party.
Loneliness.
Later, you sit beside him pulling your clothes back on while Pope stays near the edge of the bed by the window, staring down into the parking lot below.
He has pulled his jeans back on but hasnât bothered with his shirt yet. Not that you mind. You let yourself take one selfish look, something to keep for later when youâre back in your apartment pretending this night hasnât gotten under your skin.
The warm light from the lamp catches along his shoulders, over the hard line of muscle in his arms, the scattered freckles on his skin, the faint marks you noticed earlier but didnât ask about. He looks quieter now.
âYou and Baz,â he says finally.
Straight to the point.
âYeah.â
âHow long?â
âOn and off.â
Popeâs jaw moves once. The reaction is small, but you catch it.
âI stopped after I found out about Lena,â you say quietly. âShe deserves better than that.â
That softens something in him.
His eyes move from the window to you, and for a second, the hard line of his mouth eases.
âHavenât slept with your other brothers,â you add, trying to make the room feel less tight. âIf thatâs what youâre wondering.â
He glances over at you, expression unreadable.
âAnd J?â
You blink.
For half a second, you genuinely donât know what to do with the question. Then you realize heâs joking.
Actually joking.
A small laugh slips out before you can stop it, and Pope looks away like he doesnât want you to catch the slight shift at the corner of his mouth.
âI just met him tonight,â you say. âBesides, heâs too young for me.â
You tilt your head, letting your eyes move over him just enough for him to notice.
âI like my men older.â
His mouth shifts again, barely there, before he looks back toward the window.
Then his expression closes.
âYou see other men?â
You let out a small laugh, but thereâs no humour in it.
âI do what I have to do.â
You notice the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders pull back, the way his whole body seems to hold itself still by force. Beneath all that quiet, thereâs jealousy there.
âI donât like sharing,â he says.
You raise an eyebrow.
âYou barely know me.â
âI know enough.â
Silence stretches between you.
Then Pope looks at you again.
âWhat if I was the only one?â
Your breath catches slightly.
âYou serious?â
âYeah.â
No hesitation.
âYou got exclusivity money, Pope Cody?â
He reaches into his pocket without looking away and leaves another small stack of cash on the table beside the bed.
âI got enough.â
You look at the money, then back at him.
For a second, neither of you moves.
You know what this is supposed to be. A transaction. A cleaner arrangement than the messy, humiliating thing Baz tried to make of you in front of everyone. Money in exchange for time. For access. For the version of you men are always trying to buy.
But Pope doesnât look smug.
He looks tense. Focused. Almost exposed. Like this is the only language he trusts enough to use and even he knows it isnât the right one.
You lean back against the headboard slowly.
âIf we do this,â you say carefully, âyou donât own me.â
He stays quiet.
âI come when you call. I see only you. But you donât treat me like property.â
His eyes stay on yours.
Another pause.
âOkay.â
You study him suspiciously.
âYou agreeing that fast is kind of terrifying.â
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.
âProbably.â
That almost-smile catches you off guard again. The dry honesty. The fact that he can be funny when he isnât trying to be.
You hold out your hand.
âPhone.â
Pope looks at you.
âWhy?â
âSo I can give you my number.â
He reaches for the phone on the nightstand and hands it over silently. Your fingers brush for the briefest second.
This time, he doesnât pull away.
The phoneâs brand new, the thin layer of plastic film still clinging to the screen. Another gift from Smurf, no doubt.
You type your number in before calling yourself so youâll have his saved too. Pope watches quietly the entire time, his eyes following every small movement like heâs trying to memorize you already.
A sly smile pulls at your mouth before you can stop it.
Under contact name, you type: Popeâs Girl
When you hand the phone back, his eyes drop to the screen.
The corner of his mouth shifts, small and private, before he hides it again.
Pope sets the phone beside the money on the table, but his gaze stays on you. For the first time all night, the silence between you doesnât feel empty.
A few minutes later, you grab your purse from the floor and slip your shoes back on.
Pope looks over immediately.
âYouâre leaving?â
The question comes quieter than expected. Not offended. Not angry. Just uncertain enough to make your hand pause on the strap of your purse.
For somebody who looks so dangerous, Pope carries an almost painful kind of loneliness beneath everything else. Like some part of him is always waiting for the door to close.
âI thought I should,â you say gently. âGive you some quiet.â
He watches you for a long moment.
You walk over slowly and stop in front of him, close enough to see the exhaustion sitting behind his eyes, even after everything that happened between you.
âGet some sleep if you can.â
Pope gives a short, humourless laugh.
Neither of you believes it.
Even exhausted, thereâs still something restless beneath his skin.
You reach for the money Pope left on the table before pausing near the door. Between that and the cash Baz shoved into your shorts earlier, rent will finally be covered for the month. Maybe thereâll even be enough left over for one of those overpriced tubs of ice cream Chrissy always begs you to buy but can never justify.
You glance back at him.
âYou can call me anytime,â you say, keeping your voice light. âDoesnât have to be for sex either.â
Pope looks at you sharply.
That catches him more than anything else youâve said all night.
You wonder how often anyone offers him something without making him earn it first.
Then you give him one last look and head toward the door.
As you slip into the hallway, you glance back and catch him staring down at his phone, thumb hovering over the contact you saved yourself under.
Follow Up to:
The Loophole: Dark Wedding
A Solstice Sacrifice
The Debut
Little Bite One: Spend. His. Money.
Mating Rituals
MUST READ:
Little Bite Two: The Nightmare
Summary: in the wake of bad news, another Danforth cousin's wedding and post-wedding ritual brings you and Titus closer than ever, and you finally see why he has his reputation for violence.
Tags: age gap, blood sacrifices, human sacrifice, extremely graphic violence :)))), descriptions of bodily injury, lots of blood, sexual arousal over violent acts (duh), really bitchy and mean family members, more ursula background and sister behavior with reader :)))), slapping, biting, rough sex, choking, all that usual stuff, ritual sex (again!), sex on an alter table (trying again!), sex covered in your victim's blood!!!, unprotected sex (duh), mr le bail is kind of a pervert......
A/N: that summary kinda sucks but we're doing a duel! you really should read the nightmare drabble that is linked above or you'll be kinda confused about the beginning and missing some context needed! this is the second to last full part!!! couple more little bites coming tho!!!
this thing is 20k words y'all.............
AO3 Link if that's your preference
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
So. Â
Youâre not pregnant. Itâs totally fine. It doesnât bother you at all.Â
It doesnât bother you so much that you ask Titus to make appointments for both of you with the best fertility doctor in the world, just to be sure thereâs nothing wrong with you.Â
It doesnât bother you when that doctor makes a house-call, runs a million and one tests, and comes to the conclusion that both of you are perfectly healthy. This is just one of those things. Of course, she doesnât know that you two performed an ancient ritual that has worked hundreds of times to create an heir for countless families, thanks to the dark magic of the literal Devil. Â
It doesnât bother you to think about how Le Bail had his hands on you, how he looked at you from the fire and...for some reason felt he shouldnât give you an heir.Â
It doesnât bother you so much that you havenât had sex with Titus in...well itâs been about three weeks. It feels like a year.Â
At first, you retreat from him. You push yourself into your work with the Foundation, you disappear into your garden and your conservatory, you end up in bed next to him each night, smiling and talking about your days but distant the moment he puts his hands on you.Â
It doesnât really hit you how long youâve been in this slump, until Titus is getting ready to leave on his final trip to the West Coast Lodge construction, the last one he needs to do before the site is officially ready to be opened. The one he was supposed to take with you.Â
âItâs a whole week, Baby,â Titus says as you help him pack his bags, teeth gritted, hands clenched, whole body tense the way it has been since the night you realized the ritual had failed, since youâd woken up screaming from a nightmare you still havenât told him about. âYou donât have to be there the whole time, but I want you there this weekend.âÂ
âWell I...â your voice fades as you feel his arms wrap around you from behind, like waking you out of a trance. He doesnât need to vocalize the part where if you donât go on the trip, it will push your âbreakâ from sex to a month. âIâm just not sure...that Iâm ready.âÂ
Titus lets out a long, impatient sigh. He's been worse with his attitude lately, never directed at you of course, he turns his brattiness and petulance to anyone else he can, but you know itâs because of lack of connection to you. âBaby, you canât keep punishing yourself like this.âÂ
âIâm not punishing myself, Titus.âÂ
âWhatever it is youâre doing in your mind thatâs making you stay away from me, it feels like a punishment.â He turns you around, holding your hands in place at your side. âI want to fuck you.âÂ
You roll your eyes. âFucks sake TiââÂ
But Titus cuts you off with a hand to your jaw. He makes you look at him, at how hungry he is. âEnough, Little Lamb. Youâre keeping yourself from me. Youâre the one making yourself unhappy. So, the ritual hasnât worked yetâ"Â
âIt didnât workâ"Â
âIt hasnât worked yet. That doesnât mean we did anything wrong. It doesnât mean I donât want you just as much as I have since the moment I first laid eyes on you. Why are you punishing yourself?âÂ
Your lip starts to wobble, and your eyes grow sparkling with tears, chest tightening. âI feel like a fucking failure. Why would...why do you still want me?âÂ
âBaby,â Titus sighs, mournful furrow in his brow. âI love you. Iâm fucking obsessed with you. I donât just want to fuck you to make a baby, I want to fuck you because every time I look at you, I see the one person in the world whoâs just as much as monstrous animal on the inside, and I want to fall to my knees and worship you. Before you, sex was a hobby, just something I did for fun, to fill an urge, not something to bring me closer to another soul. I fucking miss you, youâre so far from me.âÂ
Your heart breaks at the cracking of his voice, the way his volume rises to almost a broken yell in his desperation. His eyes are wide, and as you look in them you can see a lifetime of loneliness, the handsome boy who everyone was too afraid of to truly get close to, unless they were trying to use his familyâs power in some way. The boy who scared his own twin sister at times, now has finally found the one person who not only never fears him, but embraces and craves his terrifying nature.Â
Your existence had been lonely so much before him, too.Â
âIâm sorry,â you finally whisper, brushing your hands up his chest, digging your fingers in so he can really feel your presence with him. âYouâre right, I was so fixated on this but...I miss you too.âÂ
âThen come with me like we planned, the jet will wait for you to pack your things,â Titus urges, voice sounding so youthful, hopeful.Â
âWell I...â you want to throw it all to the wind and say yes, of course youâll come with him now, but youâd thrown yourself into work during your slump, you canât just leave Ursula hanging so last minute now. âUrse and I are planning the Foundationâs Halloween Benefit, and we just sent out RSVPâs for the Familyâs Winter Solstice Banquet...I do need to work.âÂ
You feel his hands tighten their grip on you again, a flash of annoyance on Titusâs features, which quickly fades to acceptance. âAlright. Finish your work, I guess it will make it easier to focus on mine out there...but then Friday, come to me, Little Lamb. Let me show you what I built for you.â Then, leaning down to nip at your ear, kiss at the sensitive skin right below it, Titus whispers, âI canât christen it all by myself.âÂ
You bite your lip, color comes back to your face as you feel the skip in his heartbeat right under your hands. Like waking from another horrible dream. The lingering anticipation of whatever Titus has planned for you, makes you feel like yourself again.Â
+Â
âThree weeks?â Ursula yells, falling into a fit of laughter so big she almost knocks her food off her desk.Â
âHey! Not so loud!â You snap, looking over your shoulder through the glass walls of her office.Â
Youâre having lunch in her office between your duties for the Foundation, a habit youâve gotten into since she moved you into the corporate offices a couple months ago. You have your own office, of course, but itâs so much more fun to eat with Ursula, she has all the gossip.Â
Itâs less fun when your sex life is the topic.Â
âIâm sorry, ha, I'm so sorry,â Ursula waves her hand, pulling herself together from her giggles. âI mean, that explains why thereâs been less servants on my side of the Estate lately. You know when you two get going they all run to the East Wing to get some peace and quiet?âÂ
âOh my god,â you whine, covering your face with your hands to try to hide your embarrassment. âI really donât want to talk about this with you.âÂ
âYeah, I donât want to hear about your weirdo sex life either, but you brought it up,â Ursula says, shaking her head and clicking her teeth.Â
Actually, you tried very hard not to bring it up, but she asked why you were so down and wouldnât stop pushing and pushing until you told her about the ritual. And how it didnât work.Â
âOkay well...sorry for that, I guess,â you roll your eyes. Itâs hard to actually be sorry for having really great sex with your hot husband, not matter how disruptive it is to the household. âBut I just...I donât understand. I thought Le Bail liked me. Iâve seen him twice.âÂ
Technically three times but you donât think Ursula wants to hear about Le Bail making an appearance during the sex ritual.Â
âYou won two of his games, of course he likes you. Probably more than he likes me and Titus,â Ursula says nonchalantly.Â
âThen why...â your voice trails off sadly.Â
âItâs not a guarantee that youâll conceive a child, itâs a request,â Ursula says with a shrug. âThe ritual didnât work the first time our parents tried it as well. They waited a whole year to try it again, and thatâs when Titus and I were conceived.âÂ
âReally?â You ask, voice laced with disbelief.Â
Titus hadnât mentioned that part. He made it seem like it was so easy, like him and Ursula were some gifts easily bestowed upon Chester and Violet Danforth being such great rulers in the High Seat. Maybe thatâs why heâs not as worried about this...Â
âI wish he told me that,â you mumble, taking a big bite of your sandwich. Â
âWell thatâs Titus for you, all action and no thought,â Ursula says, eyes flicking up and down at you. You were his biggest no thought action so far, not that Ursula is mad, she loves you very much.Â
âHow did you find out about you and Titus?âÂ
âOne of our aunts told me, she was very close to Mother,â Ursula explains. âThey figured Le Bail felt they werenât ready yet, maybe thatâs whatâs happening to you. I mean...you guys have only been married for a few months. Mr. Le Bail probably just wants you to like, chill. Have some more fun. Youâre not even out of the honeymoon phase.âÂ
You let out a light laugh, shaking your head. âWhen you put it like that...I sound a little crazy.âÂ
âYou joined Satanâs literal organization, so you are crazy,â Ursula says with a smirk. âBut you need to take it down a few notches, alright? Adapt to our way of living a little, and then you can add more little Danforth's to the mix.âÂ
âRight, thank you,â you say sincerely. She has no idea how much better just her words have made you feel. Â
âSpeaking of honeymoon phases,â Ursula starts, face dropping into an annoyed frown. âI assume you and Titus received the notification of Felicityâs wedding?âÂ
âOh, yes he mentioned something about that, donât we have to host it? As the High Seat branch of the family?â You ask. Youâre pretty sure this means youâre going to get to see a Danforth Wedding duel, and you really, really hope itâs Titusâs card thatâs pulled.Â
âYup,â Ursula sighs, pursing her lips. âDid he tell you about Felicity at all? And me?âÂ
âNo,â you say, carefully studying her face. Sheâs looking down at her glass, jaw tight, something like an angry fire forming in her eyes. âHe said I should ask you about her.âÂ
That makes her eyes snap up to you, with a look that almost makes you afraid to cross her. âWell, letâs just say this isnât her first marriage.â Then in a lower mumble. âAttempt at a marriage, anyway.âÂ
Your brows raise with curiosity. âUrse...you canât just leave me hanging. I told you something deeply personal.âÂ
âYeah a sex thing about my twin brother.âÂ
âOkay, fair. How about this, when we met, you tried to kill me multiple times.âÂ
Her mouth drops open in a scoff. âOkay, I had to do that.âÂ
âHmmm, okay thatâs also a good point,â you bite down on your lip, looking at Ursula with squinted eyes. âOkay, how about this? Your power hungry, psychopathic, murder and violence loving brother loves me so much, heâs actually so busy trying to make me happy that heâs agreed to share the High Seat of ruling the entire world with you.âÂ
Ursula opens her mouth to retort, but canât find a good enough argument against that. âFuck, thatâs a good point.âÂ
âYes,â you exclaim in victory. âTell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell meâ"Â
âAlright!â Ursula cuts you off with a deep sigh. âOkay. Felicity is one of our cousins, obviously, just a few years younger than Titus and I. And she has terrible taste in men, slimy losers who want to marry into our family for connections and all those gifts from Le Bail. Well, her parents donât usually approve of her marrying anyone, because theyâre all awful, except for her first marriage. He was...â her face falls. âHe was different.âÂ
Thereâs a moment of silence hanging in the air, as you watch the emotions play out over Ursulaâs face, and you realize this is something deeper for her. âWho was he?âÂ
âHe was my first love. My high school sweetheart.â Her voice is too calm, too controlled. Sheâs looking down at her food, poking at the salad with her fork, staring down at the way the prongs of the fork pokes holes in the leaves. âWe...we were together for a long time, and I loved him very much, but I made it clear I did not want to be married. Ever. We could live a life together, do whatever we wanted, be successful, but I didnât want to marry him. I didnât want to risk him having to duel Titus, or worse at that time, my father. I told him everything about us, Mr. Le Bail, the marriage game, and I thought he understood why he could never officially be in the family.Â
But then...well, during the fall after we graduated from college, he proposed to me during Thanksgiving dinner.â Ursula lets out a long breath through her nose at the memory of him standing up, in front of almost all of her family and his, and got on one knee as he pulled out this gorgeous emerald and silver rose cut ring. Everyone in that room had cheered, except for Ursula, Titus, and Chester. Titus looked like he wanted to kill the guy, which... Â
âWell anyway, it was ugly. I ran out of the room and we fought, and then he finally let me know that I was being selfish trying to keep all of my familyâs gifts from him. Turns out he really wanted in on all the Danforth and Le Bail deal-with-the-devil fortune after all. But I just...I knew if he had to duel then he would die and I tried to tell him that, but he wouldnât accept it. He accused me of not thinking he was good enough. Didnât really leave me much choice, and I was thoroughly disgusted by him, so I broke up with him.âÂ
âOh Urse...Iâm so sorry,â you say, reaching out your hand to hers. The frown on her face jumps into shock momentarily when you touch her, but her body quickly deflates into relaxation at your warmth. Itâs a level of intimacy sheâs not used to.Â
âThank you,â she replies sincerely. âI got over it, you know, but then...I found out heâd started seeing Felicity as soon as she turned eighteen. Two years after I broke up with him, we got the invitation to their wedding.âÂ
âLet me guess, he did the ritual and pulled Titusâs card?âÂ
âOh yeah,â she says with a small laugh. âFelicity was so smug about that whole day, pretending she was so sorry and things just worked out the way they were meant to blah blah blah, she really thought Le Bail would let her have him. The duel can go all night if needed, but Titus had him hog tied and beaten to a pulp in under twenty minutes. I think itâs the record for the whole family.âÂ
Damn, you really want to see that. Thank god this family started recording all of these the moment video cameras were invented.Â
âFelicity threw such a fucking hissy fit over it, we didnât have to see her at family events for like a decade,â Ursula says with a smug smile. âI can only imagine what kind of dreg of society sheâs convinced her parents to let her attempt to push into the family this time.âÂ
âShe sounds like a cunt,â you say bluntly.Â
Ursula nearly chokes on her drink in her fit of laughter. âYes, oh my god sheâs the worst. Listen we have like a million cousins, and half of them are annoying as fuck, but Felicity...sheâs always been jealous of me. She basically wants to be me. I was so angry about it for so long, but I guess itâs a good thing she does shit like this. Makes me look even better. Got rid of a terrible man from my life for once and for all.âÂ
You watch as the sadness leaves her face entirely. She looks so much like Titus right now, the way she can mask any hint of pain behind a smug demeanor, behind the knowledge that sheâs more powerful than pain itself. Youâve spent so much time with both of them, together and separate, and without meaning to, youâve studied their dynamic. They annoy each other, poke at each other, she babies him, he brushes her off like a bratty child, but...there is love there. Theyâre twins, brought into this world together. âTitus killed him for you.âÂ
âHm,â Ursula muses, clicking her tongue. âLe Bail had him killed for me, Titus made sure it hurt.âÂ
And the way she says it, sounds like thatâs more important than the act of killing in itself. Â
âSo, is that why you never got married? You didnât want to send them to die?âÂ
Ursula shrugs. âThatâs how it was with him, I really thought I loved him. But...I already knew I was going to have to share my power with Titus one day, Iâll be damned if I have some man walk in and think he can take a piece of it too. Besides, I sort of realized Iâd rather be independent. I have several lovers, and none of them expect anything more from me. The second they do, they get dropped. And if they donât like that...well letâs just say thereâs been a few of our seasonal guys that have been exes of mine that demanded just a little too much.âÂ
Her tone is so casual it actually almost shocks you. Youâre so used to Titus being the openly cruel and violence loving one, you forgot that Ursula has been raised to be just as vicious. Sheâs so much better at hiding it.Â
âWish Titus would have done that with Priscilla,â you mumble.Â
Ursula bursts out in laughter again, eyes flicking up and down your form with an amused smile that reminds you so much of the one you constantly get from her brother. âUnfortunately I think Titus kind of likes watching people get pathetically needy over him, and when he makes them leave he doesnât really think twice. That man dumped Priscilla last year for the last time and wasnât ever going to look back.âÂ
Thereâs a beat where you two share a look, both thinking about the memory of putting her in her place back at the gala. Ursula had laughed harder than youâd ever seen when you told her everything that happened that night, from Priscilla catching you and Titus in the conservatory, to you bashing her face into glass.Â
âYou know,â Ursula starts. âMy brother stayed a bachelor all this time because he honestly never thought heâd find someone who understood him. Even Priscilla, for all her nastiness, always talked about how if they married, she expected him to settle down with the Danforth traditions. No more, hunting, and fighting, and certainly none of that gross stuff I know you two are into.âÂ
âReally?â You ask but a big part of you already knows sheâs telling the truth. You feel it swirling inside your heart, the spirit of something that calls to the demonic force that was born in Titus Danforth. It was always going to live restlessly inside him, unsatisfied, unhappy, until you came along.Â
âOh yes, donât let him know I said this, but I think my brother has always been a bit of a romantic. Just, his form of romance is a very specific acquired taste. He never let himself search for it until you were put in our path.âÂ
The sincerity in her words only highlights what she really wants you to hear. You are the key to her brotherâs happiness, just like she said the night you all met. Just as he is the key to yours.Â
Why are you sitting here moping with her, when you should be truly happy across the country with Titus?Â
+Â
The jet got you to Washington in the middle of the day on Thursday. You didnât tell Titus to expect you a while 24 hours earlier than originally anticipated.Â
No, it is way more fun to show up, tell the workers to take you to Titus Danforthâs quarters, not say a word on threat of death (which they know is literal), and then leave a trail of your clothes for him to the bedroom.Â
The text youâd sent him about how nice the room is, how soft and comfortable the bed is, while he was trying to finish a meeting had been unexpected but pleasant. He certainly was able to stay professional and continue on with finishing up his work.Â
And then about an hour later you sent a picture of you laid out on the bed with your fingers teasing the entrance of your soaking pussy and he was very much forced to call it a day.Â
The black panties you left on the doorknob were very quickly stuffed in his pants pocket for safe keeping.Â
âSo good to have you back, Baby,â Titus moans into your mouth, fingers replacing yours inside you, as he braces himself for your first pleasurably sleepless night in a month.Â
+Â
Over time, you and Titus find your way back to each other, just like you had been since the start, hot and heavy and obsessed, magnets pushed together by all the worldâs forces. Â
The West Coast Lodge has its grand opening just in time for the Holidays, when you and the Danforth Twins host the familyâs annual Winter Solstice ritual. This year, however, there was an added bonus of participating in a ceremonial hunt for the familyâs sacrifice. Most of the extended branches of family were too put together in their fanciest clothes to want to partake, but a party of about twenty, including you and Titus, took to the woods around the Lodge to hunt down the victim.Â
The sacrifice was some guy who tried skimming off the Danforthâs profits from their new vineyard. The one they acquired after the untimely demise of the Le Domas family. Since it is technically your vineyard, Titus took it as even more of a personal offense, to the point you were surprised the man even made it to the Solstice.Â
Naturally, you and Titus caught him first, kissing over his dying body after Titus let you smash the guyâs legs to bits with his Warhammer. This is also after Titus shot him just below the spleen. Youâd found it very amusing how heâd still tried to run away.Â
Almost the entire family, the branches you had yet to meet, got a very clear lesson on just who you were. Many were terrified the twins managed to snatch up someone so similar to them. A few were happy Titus now has someone to focus all of his infamous psychopathic tendencies on.Â
After the family festivities, you and Titus retired to the Master Suite where you gave him a small present. Heâd thought it was hilarious that you gave him a Christmas present, but was stunned when heâd opened the tiny box to reveal a gold pentagram pendant hanging from a gold chain. Itâs intricately hand carved with the face of a goat in the middle, and tiny little rubies.Â
He loved it so much and since he didnât have anything for you, he returned the favor by going down on you for an hour. You came so many times you lost count and basically passed out.Â
Time went on, you and Titus spent New Years in Granada at the cottage you purchased, breaking in every surface just like heâd promised, neither of you caring if it resulted in a baby or not. You were determined not to worry about that anymore, to enjoy the time and love between you and Titus just as you are. Â
Between all the sex and holidays and working, Titus also gets you in with his trainers, because if Felicityâs new husband pulls whatever card gets assigned to you, he wants to make sure you can truly beat him. You argued that you won two whole hunts without any training, but he wouldnât hear it.Â
Secretly you think he just wanted an excuse to watch you shoot a gun or wield a sword and daggers, or even better, roll around and dominate an expert fighter in nothing but a sports bra and tiny shorts.Â
He liked it even better when you practiced on him.Â
+Â
February 14th.Â
Ursula found it incredibly cheesy and lame and tacky that Felicity would choose Valentineâs Day for her wedding, and if it were anyone else you might have defended the decision. Â
The West Coast Lodge, that Titus had built in your honor, designed to embody everything that reminded him of you, is dolled up in pink and white, like a cheap candy dream. You liked pink and white, Titus had bought you entire sets of knives and hand-crafted pistols in those colors, but something about seeing so much of it in ribbons and banners and gaudy flowers of all kinds leave a sick taste in your mouth.Â
At the rehearsal dinner, Felicity had tried to argue with Titus about staying in the Master Suite, since it was to be her wedding night after all, but he threatened to shut the whole thing down and send them to a sleezy chapel in Vegas instead. Nobody but you and him were allowed to ever stay in that suite, not even Ursula. Granted, he made sure his sister had her own personal quarters in the Lodge as well.Â
Felicity mostly ignored you, beyond an overly polite introduction, and venomous, sharp eyes directed at Ursula. She kind of looked like Ursula too, full lips, round eyes, long blonde hair, but thereâs this sense of alertness in the way Felicity holds herself, like sheâs trying to force her way onto a pedestal that Ursula was born into. Like sheâs aware that nobody in any room that Ursula is in would look at her twice.Â
Maybe thatâs why she stole Ursulaâs boyfriend all those years ago, or rather placed herself into Ursulaâs role with him. The Danforth name is the most powerful in the world, but not being born to Chester means you are still a lesser person, especially in the eyes of Le Bail.Â
Youâre pretty sure you catch Felicity trying to flirt with Ursulaâs date when nobody is watching. Graham, a concert pianist who has been one of Ursulaâs many steady lovers over the years, made eye contact with you from across the room, rolling his to show how he could see right through her act.Â
The ceremony takes place in the afternoon in a Chapel next to a mass garden that Titus had filled with your favorite breeds of flower. The Lawyer is there to officiate, with his usual too cheerful smile. Â
His speech is much different to the vows youâd had to make with Titus in the Black Temple, a show for the guests attending who had no idea about Le Bail, and the fact that the Danforthâs arenât just the richest family in the world, but in fact the ones who pull every string.Â
He is happy to see you, even gives you a wink as you take your seat in the front row.Â
You start to see what Ursula and Titus say about her.Â
The early evening reception goes by in an almost monotonous blur. Sure, plenty of guests have a good time, many are dancing and drinking, you even take to the floor to dance with Titus, but mostly you are waiting around until the guests have all gone, and the only thing left to do with the family is the duel.Â
Much of the reception goes along the same lines as your time at your first Gala, with people youâve never met and never heard of coming up to essentially pay tribute to the wife of Titus Danforth. There are significantly less openly rude people this time, the rumors of just how youâd put Priscilla in her place having spread under the breaths of almost everyone in high society.Â
âI hear the wife is a total psycho.âÂ
âNo, please, sheâs nice. Nicer than Ursula, anyway.âÂ
âNot what I heard at all! You know at the double or nothing, she caused the entire El Caido line to be exterminated, when she could have just gotten away with killing the father and running off with Titus.âÂ
âShe was fighting for her life, I hardly think thatâs fair.âÂ
âIâve seen the footage, the girl is an animal. Three high families gone completely because of her. Those poor Le Domasâs...âÂ
âThatâs on Alex. You know, I heard he didnât even tell her about any of the contracts. Itâs not her fault she had to survive.âÂ
âWell she survived like an animal. No wonder Titus liked her so much, heâs just as bad. Thereâs something seriously wrong with that girl.âÂ
You overhear some of the cousins, who think theyâve found a hiding spot off in the corner, out of earshot of any other guests. They have yet to notice you standing off to the side, as you wait for a refill on your drink. Maybe you should be insulted, but their petty comments just make you smirk, quietly chuckle to yourself. Â
âDidnât you see what she did to Priscilla? Poor thing. That girl is a monster, she could snap at any one of us.âÂ
Okay, yeah that pisses you off. If Priscilla is telling everyone what happened between you two, it seems she left out the part where she tried to fuck another womanâs husband.Â
Youâre about to turn and set them straight, when Penelope appears at your side and sweeps you away, having heard their little annoying chirping as well.Â
âShe was invited to this, you know,â Penelope says, in her usual blatantly excited to gossip tone. âItâs probably not a surprise, but Priscilla and Felicity are actually pretty good friends.âÂ
You smirk at her from behind your wine glass. âOh? Why ever would she stay home then?âÂ
âSeveral little birds have told me that Priscilla is banned from any and all Danforth owned properties, probably from risk of death.âÂ
You almost choke on your wine in your effort to hold in your laughter. âSo where is she?âÂ
âMy aunt said sheâs somewhere in Europe recovering from reconstructive surgery, but I also heard they canât erase the entire scar.âÂ
âGood, it will be a nice reminder for her not to try to fuck things that arenât hers,â you say with a shrug.Â
âHa!â Penelope lets out a loud giggle, covering her mouth and turning away from the faces that turn to the two of you. âYou guys are so fucking crazy, I love it.âÂ
Your giggling together dies down as youâre joined back by your husbands, Titus wrapping his arm around your waist as he flicks back the sleeve of his dress shirt, peaking at his watch. He lets out an impatient huff, jaw tight and lips pursed. You think he looks adorable.Â
âRelax, dear Brother,â Ursula cautions, sauntering up next to you, small glass of whiskey in her hand, sheâs gripping it so tight her knuckles have gone white. âThe sun is almost down, this shit show is on its final minutes.âÂ
âWell it needs to hurry the fuck up, Iâm ready to get this over with,â Titus snaps, hand tightening on your side. âAlso, the cake was dry. Felicity and this fucking guy leech off our money and they canât even get a decently made cake?âÂ
âIs that why youâre going to take pleasure in...whatever youâre going to do later?â Penelope asks, sly smile on her face. She wonât be allowed to watch, as sheâs not in the family, but sheâs very familiar with the Wedding Rituals of Mr. Le Bail. Â
Titus snorts. âIt will be one of the reasons, thatâs for sure. If itâs even me, maybe this time Le Bail will let Ursula do the honors of ruining Felicityâs fun."Â
âIt would have been more fun if I got to do it the first time,â Ursula mumbles, before glancing at you. âMaybe Mrs. Danforth will get to do her first one.âÂ
You look up at Titus excitedly, as he smiles down at you sweetly. He licks his lips before giving you a small kiss on the cheek. âNow that I would enjoy very much.âÂ
Youâre about to say something to agree, when a cheerful, sing-songy voice cuts in. âSo sorry to interrupt, Ms. Danforth, Mr. Danforth,â The Lawyer says as he walks up, looking at you with a more intense smile as he finishes, âMrs. Danforth. I will need Titus to escort me to the Black Temple, as the architect of this...opulent resort, he will need to assist me in preparing for tonightâs final event.âÂ
Holding in his frustrated sigh, Titus isnât interested in being parted from you for too long tonight, as per usual, your husband reluctantly lets go of your body, gritting his teeth. âOf course, happy to show you the way.âÂ
âLovely to see you again, by the way, Mrs. Danforth. You seem to be assimilating to the High Seat quite well.â Then, in a lower voice, The Lawyer leans in to tell you, âMr. Le Bail is very pleased.âÂ
And even though a small, horrible voice in your head tells you not to believe him, your heart still swells with warmth, nerves racing. âTh-thank you.â Â
 You give Titus a quick kiss as you let him go, and the Lawyer gives you a wink as he turns.Â
âFuck, that tiny little man is so creepy,â a grating voice with a valley girl-like accent says in a disgusted tone behind you. Â
Your face falls into a frown, and you look to your side to find Ursula scowling. She sucks in a silent breath through her nose, covering her annoyance with a smile that doesnât reach her eyes, and stiffly turns around. âFelicity, my goodness you really make the loveliest bride.âÂ
âEven better than the first time wouldnât you say,â Felicity hums, her eyes sharp like a viper, satisfied bragging in her tone.Â
You donât miss the way Ursula tenses. âWell, hopefully tonight goes better for your new man.âÂ
The grin that has been sitting firmly on Felicityâs face for two days faulters for just a moment, before her eyes widen in her effort to keep control on her expression. âFitz is much more suited to Le Bailâs lifestyle, believe me. He already runs successful businesses all around the world, multi-millionaire even without any deals.âÂ
She lets the part where the Danforthâs are billionaires who could buy and dissolve any of his businesses just for shits and giggles stay unspoken.Â
âHm,â Felicity hums, choosing to ignore the obvious sarcasm in Ursulaâs words. Finally, her attention turns to you.Â
Her eyes rake up and down your body, studying you, calculating the perfect thing to say to someone who has been given everything she has ever wanted for her life. In her mind, youâve had it easy. You just had to marry Titus and you were handed everything the highest seats in the family get. She doesnât even consider the violence you had to endure in such a short time to get here. Youâre a bug that belongs under her boot.Â
âLovely dress,â She says, though thereâs no kindness in her voice.Â
You look down at the lilac colored dress that Titus had picked out for you. It has layers of sheer fabric on the skirt, and a corseted bodice that hugs your waist and pushes your breasts up. He also picked out the white pearls that sit in three layers on your neck. You know you look beautiful, and it must kill her.Â
âThank you,â you say, glancing down at her own dress. White and basic but covered in Swarovski crystals to make it look more expensive. Itâs probably a ten thousand dollar dress, but it could have been bought at Macyâs for $150.Â
âSo sorry I havenât had the chance to properly welcome you into the family, I simply was too busy this year with my own engagement to attend all the Danforth events. Congratulations on winning over my cousin, Titus can be a hard man to please, and I know so many of the women who have tried.âÂ
Sheâs trying so hard to push you, but itâs not anything you havenât already heard from the other jealous girls of High Society. Â
âIâve been welcomed plenty, trust me. Ursula is teaching me everything I need to know.â Â
âOh, Iâm sure,â Felicity grins, toothy but no emotion in her eyes. âIâm surprised, though, Ursula was never one to take someone under her wing, even her own family.âÂ
The look she shoots at Ursula would be lethal if given to anyone else, but itâs only met by an exasperated laugh from your sister-in-law. âOh you have got to be joking meâ"Â
âUrse!â Grahamâs voice interrupts as he walks up from the side, holding two very full champagne flutes in his hands. The sound of his voice instantly calms the fight brewing inside Ursula. âThe Governor and his wife are asking for you, they want to say goodbye for the evening.âÂ
âWonderful,â Ursula grits, snatching one of the flutes and downing its contents in one gulp, before glaring back at Felicity. âIâll see you soon.âÂ
Felicity just rolls her eyes as they walk away, then turns her attention back to you. âI see she hasnât changed at all, still the snotty, self-centered brat sheâs always been.âÂ
âFunny, she says the same things about you,â Penelope scoffs.Â
âRelax, Pen, whatâs a little playful insulting amongst family?â Felicity says, eyes still firmly scanning up and down you. âSpeaking of which, I think I'd like to spend a little time getting to know my new cousin, if you donât mind.âÂ
But she doesnât leave much of a choice when she grabs you by the elbow and snatches you away. You turn back to Penelope with a pleading look in your eyes, but she just sighs and throws her hands up in defeat as youâre dragged across the hall.Â
âYou know, Iâm sure those two have filled your little head with all sorts of horrible things about me,â she starts, patronizing. âAnd Iâm not going to deny any of it, but youâre new here, so Iâll give you my own lesson in what it means to be a Danforth.âÂ
âI canât imagine I have anything useful to learn from you,â You spit, shaking your arm out of her grip. You could walk away, go off to find Titus or join Ursula and Graham, maybe even run back to Penelope or Elton, any of the allies you have in the room, but something in you tells you to stay. The little monster inside is curious about just what Felicityâs game here is.Â
She scoffs. âHow about the perspective of someone from outside the main branch of the family? You got fucking lucky joining them, you know? I just happened to be born from the wrong Danforth brother and because of that, Iâm cursed to a lifetime of second best.Â
What did Ursula tell you about my first husband? Hm? That she loved him and was so disappointed when he wanted nothing more than what every single person in this room would want? A piece of the power over the whole world? Oh, how awful of him!âÂ
You look around as you stand in the middle of this room filled with old money blue bloods, new age elite, and various members of government, world movers. How many of them are part of Le Bailâs organization? How many of them would kill to be? Itâs something so secretive that you may never know every single family that is a part of it. And...you sit at the very top of it. By complete happenstance.Â
If you hadnât pushed Alex Le Domas to marry you, this would never be your life at all. A twinge of pain begins to stab like a needle at your heart, as you realize whatever Felicity has to say about you could be right.Â
âI donât care what the twins have said to you, I loved that man, and I had to watch Titus bash his skull in on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.âÂ
You can only imagine the glee on your husbandâs face as he did. âAre you really throwing a bitch fit thirty years later, because of something everyone who marries into the family is at risk of?âÂ
Her face contorts, jaw locking and twitchy as her emotions move from fiery anger to a calm that barely contains it. âEveryone but you, right?âÂ
You hold in any response you can think of. You donât owe her an explanation, she already knows everything you had to do to join the family. Nobody who has ever married into the Danforthâs has had to kill as many people as you have.Â
âI wouldnât look so smug about your little kill record, or Titusâs, by the way,â Felicity sneers. âFine, I want what the twins have, I want that high seat. And yes, weâre allowed to kill family members, but thereâs only one time where killing that family member guarantees you the High Seat.âÂ
Your face hardens, cold anxiety shooting up your spine. âWhat the fuck are you talking about?âÂ
âYou and the twins didnât think Iâd get married to someone who could be so easily defeated by one of you again, did you?â Felicity says with a patronizing laugh. âFitz is a world class athlete. Golden gloves boxer, Olympic medalist power lifter, trained in archery, javelin, sharpshooting, you get the picture. Youâve seen him, heâs twice the size of you and Ursula, and younger than Titus, more fresh. No matter which one of you he duels, he will crush your bones into dust. And I will get that High Seat. Then whichever two of you are leftover, Iâll have fed to the dogs.âÂ
âYou fucking cuntâ"Â you hiss as you raise your hand, caught between wanting to deck her in the jaw or strangle her in front of all these people.Â
She steps back with a wicked smile. âAh, ah, ah, you canât do anything to me until after the duel. Hasnât Titus told you any of our rules?âÂ
You freeze, stilling the movement of your hand with every ounce of self-control that you have. Eyes from all around start to hone in on you, the small scuffle between you and Felicity bringing in attention from various guests. Â
She doesnât seem to care as she continues to taunt you. âHm, I can see why Titus likes you so much, youâre a feisty one. And I would have thought Le Bail would like you too, but from what I hear, you might have fallen out of his favor.âÂ
âWh-what the fuck does that mean?â You scowl at her. Â
âWell, itâs my understanding that you and Titus tried a little ritual recently,â Felicity sneers, stepping into your space, looking down at you. âAnd it looks to me like it didnât exactly work, hm?âÂ
You gasp, eyes widening with horror, lip shaking. You look around the room, at the eyes on you, unsure if they can hear your conversation, but a horrifying voice screaming at you that they can. They know, they all know youâre a failure.Â
âH-how did you...â but you canât force yourself to finish the question.Â
âHow did I find out? Ha,â she laughs, shrugging. âYou need special materials for that ritual, and thereâs only so many people you can get them from. Fitz and I...we want to make an heir of our own. Iâm getting a little...â she purses her lips tightly, â...older, so we are going to ask Le Bail for his blessing and, well, the Dark Priest we went to mentioned he just filled a similar order for the heads of the Family. But, well, you donât look pregnant to me.âÂ
You want to scream. You want to shove her on the ground and beat her to death with the closest blunt object. You want to rip her hair out and shove it down her throat. But you stay still. You let our deep breaths, doing your best to not let her see just how much sheâs getting to you. But youâre failing at that too.Â
âFitz and I will be trying it on that lovely alter table in the black temple, as soon as heâs killed...well, whichever one of you whoâs card he pulls but fuck,â Felicity licks her lips. âI really hope itâs yours.âÂ
âFelicity!â Titusâs gruff, booming voice breaks through the noise of guests, music, and her vile words. She jumps slightly, eyes snapping up over your shoulder to where your husband and the Lawyer approach. When you turn to look, you see his dark eyes narrowed, with an intense hatred you donât think youâve ever seen before. âWhen it comes to speaking about Mr. Le Bail, or my personal business, you better hold your tongue around outsiders,â he spits, putting a protective arm around your waist, âor I will let Mrs. Danforth cut it out.âÂ
You look up at him with a smile, eyes twinkling under the light as all cold and anger melts away from your body. âLet?âÂ
Titus smirks down at you, as though to silently say, let me pretend I have a say.Â
Behind you both, the Lawyer looks at Felicity with a stern frown, shaking his head. âMrs. Harrison, Mr. Le Bail is very clear about how he feels about discussions of the organization in public places. If you continue, he will be...very upset.âÂ
The visible gulp in her throat, a sign of genuine fear, brings a sick delight to you. Â
âO-of course, sir, it wonât happen again,â she assures him through gritted teeth.Â
The Lawyer keeps his frown at her for just a moment longer, before instantly changing it to a much too perky smile. âWell, I believe things are winding down here anyway, shall we prepare for the rest of tonightâs events downstairs?âÂ
The three of you nod, and Titus sends out a message in the family text to alert the others that it is almost time, before guiding you gently out of the ballroom. You feel Felicityâs scheming eyes on you the whole way.Â
+Â
The Black Temple in this Lodge is much grander than the one at home. Twice as big, in the shape of an oval, with black marble flooring and a pentagram shaped table at the center. The stairs descend down in a spiral around the room, framed by a black metal railing thatâs been intricately twisted and carved to look like thorny vines. Â
On the opposite end of the bottom of the stairs is a large fireplace, jutting out from the dark grey stone of the wall, in the shape of a screaming goat, the horns twisting symmetrically in curves along the wall. The eyes are dark onyx that shines in the light of the fire. Â
In front of the table sits a small circular gate in the ground, the opening to the goat pit, which currently sits empty.Â
Pyres line the walls, filling what should be a cold basement room with rich warmth. There are dark wood shelves lining the walls, filled with old spell books, crystals, candles, herbs, and all sorts of other materials needed for various rituals.Â
Itâs beautiful, every piece of it made specifically to what Titus thought you would love. Â
As you enter the room, arm in arm with Titus, you notice a set of items sitting on one of the shelves. You recognize the heart candle for the mating ritual, and your throat starts to burn with bile that you swallow back down.Â
Most of the family retire to their rooms in the hotel section of the lodge, but a few of the extended branches join you in the Temple. Itâs not a requirement for every single Danforth to be there, but most enjoy being witness to the duels, the ones who are almost as cruel and sick in the head as Titus.Â
You are soon joined in the center of the room by Ursula, Felicity, and Fitz, who gives you a twisted smirk. He drags his eyes up and down your body, licking his lips, like a predator planning his next meal.  You cringe and look away, holding on tighter to Titusâs arm.Â
The Lawyer waits for everyone to gather around, Mr. Le Bailâs book carefully laid out on the alter table, open to a blank page, as he pulls a set of golden playing cards from his pocket.Â
He looks up around the room with a giddy smile. âWell, everyone all set?â The room falls silent at his question, you suck in a nervous breath. âExcellent! We gather here today to honor a possible new edition to the Danforth Family, by performing the sacred tradition, the duel. Â
For those who may be unfamiliar, I will go over the rules as agreed upon by Mr. Le Bail and William Danforth the third, the original signer of this illustrious familyâs contract.â He looks at you, tilting his head as his lips close in a more friendly smile just for you. âA face card from this deck,â he holds up the golden cards, showing them to the room, âis assigned to one of the heads of the household, in this case, Ursula and Titus Danforth as they are twins and sharers of the High Seat, and Mrs. Danforth, as their equal. The spouse will draw a card, and if it is one assigned to a head of the house, that family member must participate in the duel. If they draw a numbered card, the Spouse is automatically entered into the family, per Mr. Le Bailâs wishes.Â
The duelers are permitted to use any weapon at their disposal, from any era. They will begin at exactly midnight, and continue until the death of one of the duelers. After which, the sacrifice will be taken back down here to the alter, their blood emptied into the goat pit, along with their body, in offering to Mr. Le Bail.Â
If the spouse is the winner of the duel, their branch of the family takes over as head of the household while the former head and other branches...â he pauses, smile faltering for just a moment as he watches your eyes widen, the memory of the total annihilation of the Le Domasâs flooding back to you. âWell. Iâm sure you can all guess. As is the fate of the entire Danforth line, should neither dueler be successful in killing the other by sunrise.âÂ
Murmuring fills the room, and again you feel everyoneâs eyes fall to you. They also remember what happened the nights of your first two weddings, the complete destruction of multiple High Council families. This time, however, itâs not judgement you read from their faces, but rather fear. So much death caused by such a little, young thing, and now she stands ruling their family with Titus.Â
âBecause of the realignments of the head of the Danforth family because of the passing of Chester Danforth, we will begin tonightâs ceremonies with a reassignment of the cards. Then, Mr. Fitz Harrison will draw to determine his fate, if he draws one of your cards, you will have half an hour to prepare before we must meet on the dueling grounds. Understood?âÂ
The main group of you all nod, and you watch as The Lawyer lays out the cards on the table, face side down. Â
âStep forward each of you, and select your cards. These shall be your cards for any future marriage rituals, until the day another reassignment must be made.âÂ
You, Titus, and Ursula step up to draw your cards, each of you placing a hand down on one at the same time. After a count from The Lawyer, the three of you pick your cards up simultaneously.Â
Ursula draws the Jack of Clubs, you draw the Queen of Diamonds, and Titus draws the King of Hearts.Â
He chuckles when he sees Ursulaâs card. âDemoted.âÂ
She rolls her eyes, elbowing him in the side. âItâs not a demotion.âÂ
âHail Satan!â The Lawyer interrupts, sending the twins a warning with his eyes. âAs Le Bail has wished, the cards are assigned. Mr. Harrison, please step forward to learn your fate.âÂ
Felicity makes a show of kissing him first, pulling him in by his cheeks and moaning into it, earning an annoyed groan from each of you. Fitz turns to the Lawyer with a cocky grin, as the cards are all put back and shuffled. The lawyer spreads them out on the alter table, in a gorgeous gold circle, then steps back to allow Fitz to make his pick.Â
As he steps up, looking directly at you from across the alter table, thereâs a wild, hungry look in Fitzâs eyes. You wonder what kind of things Felicity has told him about you three, why would he be singling you out? Because your fights are already family legend? Or because Titus took Felicityâs first spouse...so that debt can only be paid by Fitz taking his.Â
Either way, his look makes your skin crawl. It reminds you of how the High Council families looked at you when fighting for the seat, the little lamb for their slaughter, the one obstacle between what they all had truly wanted. Everyone except Titus, who had looked at you with deeply immense sadness, because what he wanted was you.Â
Fitz places his hand on one of the cards, keeping that same overly delighted smirk directed at you, until he flips his chosen card over. The smile shakes, so minutely that you almost miss it, as he picks up the card.Â
The King of Hearts.Â
An excited hum fills the room from the other family members, as Ursula and Titus chuckle, and Felicity lets out a frustrated whine.Â
âTitus Danforth, Mr. Le Bail has tasked you with the duel. You have half an hour to prepare in any way that you need,â The Lawyer says, as he writes out a small contract for the duel on the blank page of the book. Â
He takes Fitzâs hand and pricks his finger, directing the man to sign his blood, and as Titus does the same, he looks at Felicity with a grin filled with fake pity. âSo sorry, dear cousin, you seem to have just the worst luck.âÂ
âThatâs what you think, Titus,â she grunts, snatching her husband away as soon as sheâs able to. Â
It should bring you relief to know that Titus will be the one taking the field. Heâs the most experienced with duels, after all. Heâs the violent twin. Heâs the one just as brutal as you are. Â
But.Â
Somewhere in the back of your mind, the image conjured up by your dreams, your nightmares, of him laying in the grass covered in his own blood, fills your every sense. Â
+Â
The Master Suite is dark, with only the light of the moon shining through the windows, and the orange glow from the fireplace. Titus sits on the edge of the bed, securing the buckles of his black hunting gloves to his wrists. You stand against the door across from him, as you have been for the last twenty minutes, silently watching him prepare.Â
On the way up to the room, Titus had tried to comfort you, to joke around and point out that you wanted to see him fight, but your anxiety prevented you from finding the humor in it. When you entered your quarters, youâd given him a big kiss, held on as tight as you could to his arms, his neck, his face, memorizing every piece you could with your touch.Â
Now you lean against the door, taking in the look of your husband, scanning every inch with your eyes. Â
âThink Iâm going to break my duel record tonight, bet I could have him finished in under ten minutes,â Titus says, voice almost too casual for your current comfortability. âSometimes I let them go on for fun, you know? Iâll let them run away and hide to build up the suspense, make it better for me when I finally get the kill, but I donât think Fitz deserves that.âÂ
You donât respond. The silence hums between you. Barely a breath escapes your lips. You donât think itâs all that funny.Â
He took off his tuxedo jacket, laid it carefully on the back of the vanity chair off to the side, but heâs kept on his white button up shirt and black dress pants. The chain you gave him glimmers in the light from the fireplace. Your eyes follow the path of it down his neck.Â
Over his shoulders sits a black leather holster that holds two giant hunting knives that sit easily accessible on either side of his waist. His war hammer is strapped to his back, and he throws a bandolier around his shoulder as well, as he sits and loads an old family hunting rifle.Â
You think he looks...well he looks fucking hot. First off. The way he carefully loads the rifle, clicking it into place and checking it over, the way his silver curls still sit perfectly styled, practically shining in the moonlight, the way he bites his bottom lip as he concentrates. Itâs almost upsetting how sexy he is.Â
âLittle Lamb,â his voice breaks through the foggy silence of the room again, as he looks up at you. âCome here.âÂ
You glance at him with nerves you thought youâd left behind long ago. But you do as he asks, sliding into his lap, one hand around his shoulder, as the other pushes into his soft curls. His eyes flutter shut and he leans into your touch, smiling softly. Youâve done this a thousand times by now, calmed him by petting him, showing him an affection he hasnât had since he was just a young boy.Â
âDo you think youâre ready?â you ask, voice quiet.Â
His eyes flash open, and he looks at you with a frown. âBaby, this is what I do. You have nothing to worry about.âÂ
âIâm not I just...Felicity was saying some things...âÂ
Titus snorts. âYeah, Iâm sure that bitch was saying lots of things to get in your head, but you shouldnâtââÂ
âSheâs doing the mating ritual.â You say bluntly. âYou heard what she saidâ"Â
âSheâs not doing shit because that man is not making it off the grounds alive,â Titus says sternly. He gently pushes a stray strand of your hair back behind your ear, leather-covered thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek. âI know you like to think itâs you, but I'm the strongest in this family. Iâve been waiting for a chance to really show you what I can do.âÂ
And that finally earns a little smile from you. âWell...when you put it that way...âÂ
âMhm,â Titus hums with an amused grin. âI know you want to see me rip that man apart. I know Iâm bringing all this, but Iâll do my best to strangle the life from him with my bare hands, I know thatâs what you really want to see.âÂ
An excited shudder races up your spine, as you let out a shaky breath, heat blooming between your thighs. âFuck, yeah, I really, really do.âÂ
âCourse you do,â Titus chuckles, tightening his grip on you, fingers denting into your jaw, just on the edge of pain that you love. âIâll make sure to give the cameras a good angle when I choke him out, but I donât know actually...I could kill him like that, but wouldnât it be more fun if he died bloody? Leave bits and pieces of him on the green for the grounds men to clean up.âÂ
Your body contracts at the thought, the image of Fitz spitting up his own blood in Titusâs hands. âKill him however you want, just make it hurt.âÂ
âThatâs my girl,â Titus grins, pulling you in for a kiss.Â
You moan into it, slipping your tongue into his mouth and tasting the alcohol and cigar smoke leftover from tonight. Your teeth latch onto his top lip and you bite and pull hard, Titus whimpers as a cut is formed, and his blood drips into your mouth. You suck it in, eyes rolling back in your head from the taste that sends electric sparks deep into your body. Â
You want him to feel it when heâs out there. You want him to touch it with his tongue while he fights to win the sacrifice, a physical reminder of who his blood belongs to.Â
A soft alarm interrupts your kiss, much to both your annoyance. Thereâs only a couple minutes of prep time left, which means he has to make his way to the dueling ground.Â
You slip off his lap to stand up, but Titus pulls you to him again, kissing the swell of your breast just above the line of your dress, before resting his head against your chest. He brings a hand up to your stomach, pressing his fingers into the soft fabric. âWe can try again, you know. After I win, after I kill that motherfucker for you. Felicity was so nice to gather everything we need for it.âÂ
You suck in a breath, fingers finding the gold chain, and you gently pull it form under his shirt, twiddling with the pentagram nervously. âI-Iâm not sure...âÂ
âItâs okay, sweet baby, you can decide during the duel and tell me after,â he says, standing up so he can tower over you, darkness filling his features. âBecause I am coming back to you. I told you I would kill a hundred people for you, well Iâd destroy this whole fucking world to be in your arms again. One pathetic man will never keep me from my Little Lamb.âÂ
+Â
The duelers are led out to the fields on the rear side of the Lodge, surrounded by hedges and tall trees, small bushes of flowers and soft lanterns lighting the paths. The first time youâd walked it with Titus, you thought it was so romantic, but now it stands as a field of death.Â
The family members who wish to observe are taken to the club room, where a wall of various tvâs shows every single inch of the fields, in full high-definition color, with working microphones. A major improvement to past Danforth Wedding Duel viewings.Â
You sit in the middle of the room, not trusting your feet to hold you up enough to stand like everyone else. Â
Ursula brings you a short glass filled with their finest Danforth Whiskey, neat. Something to calm your nerves.Â
+Â
âGentlemen, please take your beginning stances,â The Lawyerâs voice booms over a loud speaker across the field. Â
Titus and Fitz stare at each other from about 50 yards away, Titus pulling up his rifle, and Fitz placing his hands on two handguns in his waist holster. Itâs practically silent, barely a brush of wind or sound from forest animals to distract Titus from the blood pumping in his veins, rushing through and heating his body.Â
âThe duel will begin in 3...2...ââ The sound of a grand clock striking midnight rings throughout the club room and the field, and instantly after the first bell tolls comes the sound of a gunshot.Â
Titus shoots a second time, swearing to himself, as Fitz dodges by rolling to the ground. Titus gets another shot off, and then loads another as he stomps across the field, teeth gritted as he watches Fitz roll towards the tree line.Â
âFuck,â Titus hisses, shooting again as he watches Fitz duck behind a tree, missing again. He was expecting a little bitch of a challenge, was hoping for it so he could really give you a show, but he didnât expect Fitz to be so quick. Titus catches him leaning over to try to get a look out at him, and aims quickly before shooting again, splintering the tree but missing Fitz again. âYouâve gotta be fucking kidding me.âÂ
+Â
âFitz is so fast, he was on multiple Olympic track teams, you know? And All State in high school and college,â Felicity brags, earning interested hums from the other families in the room. She looks down at you with a pleased smirk, basking in positive attention for once. Â
You want to scream. You want to throw the glass in your hand at her and slit her throat open with the shards. You want to get in her face and remind her that Titus is a monster. Heâs killed dozens of men and women like Fitz.Â
But you stay in your seat, downing the last drops of the whiskey as your eyes stay glued to the screens. Â
Ursula gives a nod, and an attendant comes over to fill the glass again.Â
+Â
As Titus goes to load his rifle for the third time, he hears a rustling from the trees, and looks up just in time to see Fitz raising his own guns at him. Titus drops to the ground before Fitz can get a shot off, pulling the rifle into his chest and rolling onto his front. Â
He squeezes an eye closed and aims again, this time managing to hit one of Fitzâs guns out of his hand.Â
âAhh! Fuck!â Fitz shouts in pain, dropping the smashed gun to the ground. His hand burns, wrist stinging, and he quickly leans back behind the tree as he clenches that fist shut. His face breaks into an amused smile. âGood shot, old man!âÂ
âNot that much older...â Titus mumbles, loading another round into the rifle. He shoots towards Fitzâs tree again, more as a warning shot to keep him back than anything actually meant to maim.Â
With Fitz still stunned, Titus takes the opportunity to jump up from the ground and run to the trees. He's not going to go right for the other man, heâs still got one good gun, and inside the forest itâs going to be harder to get a clear shot with his own gun, but he wants to get closer. He can do the most damage with his hands.Â
He doesnât bother to stay quiet as he moves through the trees, wants Fitz to know heâs coming, and when he circles enough to spot the man leaning up against the trunk, Titus raises his gun with a smirk. âGotcha.âÂ
âFuck,â Fitz swears, eyes wide as he ducks again, just in time for Titusâs shot to hit the spot on the tree right where his face had been a second ago. He yelps as he lands on his bruised wrist, but manages to still himself in time to get a couple shots off his other gun.Â
One of which rips right past Titusâs arm, grazing the skin with a painful force that enough to knock him over. âAhh!â Titus yells, dropping his rifle and grabbing at his arm, where a small cut bleeds through the white of his shirt. He pulls his hand back to stare at his own blood, eyes dark with anger. âLittle punk.âÂ
Thereâs no time to sit a stew over it, because Fitz starts shooting again, and Titus twists his body behind another thick tree, chest heaving and jaw tight. Â
The gun goes off until itâs out of bullets, and Fitz is swearing and throwing it to the side.Â
+Â
âHa! First blood spilled tonight is Titus!â Felicity giggles, the sound like nails on a chalkboard to you. âPerhaps my dear cousin has lost his touch.âÂ
Youâre on your feet in half a second, without even thinking, eyes wild as you stare her down with barely contained rage. You want to scream that actually the first to spill Titusâs blood tonight was you. In a kiss, the only way it should be spilled, in an act of love. By the only one who deserves it. The one who owns his blood, his soul, his heart. Youâre about to leap across the room to strangle her, when Ursula shoves you down by the shoulder.Â
She leans down and whispers right into your ear. âYou cannot touch her until the duel is over. Get it together.âÂ
With a deep breath, you close your eyes, and remained in your seat, fingers going white where they grip the glass.Â
+Â
With no way of knowing what else Fitz has armed himself with, Titus uses the moments of near silence to take his chance, and break into a run towards the other man. He jumps over bushes and fallen branches, ignoring the leaves and little twigs that scratch at him as he runs, raising his rifle again. Â
He shoots again once Fitz is in view, just barely missing the manâs shoulder, and then heâs on him. Titus grips the barrel end of his rifle, smashing it into Fitzâs cheek, a loud crack echoing from the breaking of the manâs nose.Â
âFUCK!â Fitz yelps, ducking a grabbing his nose, his own blood pooling in his hand. He manages to dodge Titusâs next hit, grabbing the rifle and using all of his strength to keep Titus from hitting him with it again. Â
They both groan from the exertion of fighting for control over the rifle, teeth gritted and voices rumbling. Fitz is able to win out, twisting the rifle in Titusâ hands, forcing him on his back on the ground, and Titus lets go. He quickly rolls away, as Fitz lets out a wild yell, throwing the useless rifle somewhere far off into the woods. Â
âNice try, old manâ"Â
Titus scoffs at the taunt again, spitting up at Fitz, the saliva staining his cheek. As he stands again, he reaches to his sides, hands gripping both of the large, serrated hunting knives. Â
The light from the moon is bright as it shines through the trees, combined with the orange and yellow glow emitting from the Lodge. Itâs enough for the high-tech cameras to catch all the action, but to Fitzâs human eyes, Titusâs silhouette comes through as a hulking figure, something monstrous. Something not human at all.Â
Fitz blanches, eyes widening as he wipes the spit from his face and backs up. His hands shake as he reaches behind, swallowing a large lump in his throat.Â
âTalk all the shit you want, one of us has won dozens of these duels, and the other is a fucking idiot who thinks a few little tricks are going to impress Le Bail.â Titusâs voice is low, gravelly, menacing. It almost sounds like two voices in one, the other growing from somewhere deep within the fires of his soul.Â
+Â
You stand up, eyes wide as you walk closer to the TVs, with your free hand you press your finger on a screen with an overhead shot of your husband. Even from all the way out here, you can see his true form. The shadows make it seem like heâs walking through black smoke, the knives in his hands shine, and you wish more than anything that you could have a closer view. Â
What you wouldnât give to be standing alongside him, still allowing him to take the lead in the right, but able to see every detail of his power up close.Â
Behind you, a few murmurs reach your ears, Felicity snickering and goading them on. Theyâre all watching you in this trance, and theyâre...laughing. Taunting you like theyâd done during the reception.Â
Your hand clenches, and you turn back to her, straightening your spine with your jaw clenched. âYour husband looks a little scared,â and your gaze moves to the other cousins that had dared to join her side for even just one small moment, âdonât you think?âÂ
Several faces fall from their smiles, terror growing in their places, as the cousins all look away, nodding to agree with you instead.Â
+Â
Fitz backs up with that same wide-eyed expression, injured hand held up in the air, not in surrender but rather to keep some sort of barrier between them, while the other remains behind his back. His back hits the trunk of a massive tree, thick and winding and old, and he sucks in a breath.Â
âEnjoy your final moments kid, I know I will,â Titus smirks, stopping only a meter away from the man, holding one of his knives up in line with his face.Â
He slashes the knife, Fitz yelps and ducks, and Titus slashes again, managing a deep cut on the manâs arm as he tries to get away. But before Titus can strike again, Fitz pulls the weapon heâd had hidden behind his back, an antique crossbow.Â
âOr Iâll enjoy yours, fucking bastard!â Fitz yells, carelessly shooting his first arrow.Â
It swipes past Titusâs face, sharp point just barely grazing his cheek, a line of red staining his freckled skin as he hisses. His eyes narrow as he wipes the blood with the back of his fist, keeping his knife raised as a shield against the next arrow flying towards him.Â
He breaks into a run in a circle around Fitzâs body, avoiding the barrage of arrows that follow in quick succession. Â
Once behind Fitz, Titus launches into him, slashing his bad arm with the knife again, cutting deep, and blood splatters onto both Titus and the ground.Â
Fitz screams in pain, but he gets upright again, running in the opposite direction. Titus throws one of the knives this time, nailing Fitz right in the leg, and the cut is deep as Fitz reaches down to yank it out. Â
âGet back here and fight me like a fucking man, you pathetic little child,â Titus screams as he chases after him. Fitz disappears into the dark of the trees and Titus stops short, chest heaving as his breaths come out ragged, a tiny smile on his lips. A little droplet of blood trickles down his cheek from the little cut, but he can barely feel the pain from it now. âWhere the fuck are you?âÂ
+Â
Anger boils from somewhere deep in your belly at the sight of your husbandâs blood trailing down his beautiful face. You have half a mind to turn around and take it out on Felicity, who has gone back to postering about her man.Â
But everything else about Titus is so fucking erotic to you. The power he displays, the lack of fear, the hunger that had flashed in his eyes when heâd spilled Fitzâs blood. Your body heats up, eyes growing black, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning.Â
+Â
Titus stays low as he moves through the trees, eyes scanning the shadows to find any sign of Fitz hiding from him. He really thought this was going to be a harder fight.Â
A soft crack sounds from behind Titus, and he snaps his body around to chase it, grunting and growling, like a feral wolf zeroing in on its prey. Â
Another arrow zooms by, and Titus knows heâs close by the sound of the crossbow clicking coming to his ears. He runs through a row of trees and into a clearing, where Fitz is crouched on is good knee, teeth gritted as he does his best to keep his strength up and shoot off a few more arrows. He yells a cry like a falling warrior as he presses the trigger over and over again, until finally he runs out of amo.Â
Before he gets a chance to reload, Titus throws his other knife, and it lands smack into the mouth of the crossbow, rendering it useless. Fitz swears, loud and broken and desperate, as he throws the crossbow as hard as he can at Titus.Â
It hits him roughly on the shoulder, a few splinters of wood cuts into his skin through the thin dress shirt, but Titus isnât deterred. Â
He has one weapon left, but heâs saving it.Â
Fitz clearly came unprepared, as he scrambles to his feet and runs at Titus full force, no more weapons for him to choose from on his person. At the last second, Fitz throws a handful of rocks at Titusâs face, who squeezes his eyes shut for only a millisecond to avoid being blinded.Â
Butâs just enough time for Fitz, Titus grunting from the pain, and then Fitz is on him.Â
+Â
You gasp as you watch Fitz tackle your husband to the ground, and their hands meet in the air, Titus pushing up and Fitz trying to break free from his grip to punch him.Â
âThere we go,â Felicity says delightfully, smacking her lips. âTitus really is out of practice, this is where my Fitz really shines. Iâm going to enjoy this very much.âÂ
You rear around again, and again Ursula stops you, stepping between your body and Felicityâs. âIgnore her. This is where Titus shines too.âÂ
+Â
Titus is able to launch Fitz back off his body, and both men race to their feet, raising their fists.Â
Itâs Titus who makes the first move, swinging a hard punch to Fitzâs left, then following it with an uppercut when the first attempt is dodged, nailing him in the jaw. Â
Fitz yells, then starts swinging wildly. Both men exchange blows, and punch to the cheek, to the nose, both bruising spitting out their own blood, but neither really getting the upper hand.Â
Again, Fitz launches into Titus, yelling through the pain of Titus punch him over the shoulder as he uses all his strength to force the man into the closest tree. Titusâs back hits it with a heavy thud, and his head snaps back, smacking against the trunk as well, sending him reeling.Â
Finally, for the first real time tonight, Fitz gets the upper hand in the fight. He knees Titus in stomach, doubling him over, and he spits blood down at the man with a triumphant grin. He grabs Titus by the hair, yanking his neck back, slamming his face into the tree, the wood cutting more little lines into his skin.Â
+Â
âNo,â you whisper, raising a hand to your lips. Itâs not supposed to be like this. The cut you gave Titus is still the biggest bruise left there on his lip, but the sight of his blood spilled by someone else gives you flashbacks to that sleepless night.Â
Behind you, Felicity giggles. âYes.âÂ
+Â
Fitz tosses Titus on the ground, kicking him in the stomach as hard as he can while heâs down. âThis is who I was supposed to worry about? Huh?âÂ
âFuck you,â Titus coughs, choking blood up from his throat, still dizzy from the hits to his head. Â
âPathetic old man,â Fitz growls. He grabs Titus by the neck, one hand wrapped tight around it and he rears the man up, bringing them face to face again. âAll this for your cunt sister? And that whore wife of yours...thinks sheâs one of us? What could you possibly know what to do with a pretty young thing like that, anyway? From what we heard, you couldnât even knock her up. Useless.âÂ
And that... that breaks Titus out of his daze real quick. Words against him and Ursula are an annoyance at best, but you? No sleazy piece of shit, lower than dirt human will raise their tongue against you and expect to live. Titusâs heart starts pumping double time, and he sucks in deep breaths, hands clenching into white knuckled fists at his sides.Â
âMaybe before weâve drained you, Iâll ask Le Bail if I can keep her for myself. As soon as I win, Iâll make it a command that I can have as many wives as I please,â Fitz says with a low, menacing laugh. âAlready got Felicity so I can have the power, Iâll take your sister, and your little bride. Show her what itâs like to have a real man.âÂ
The moment of taunting laughter from Fitz is all Titus needs to make his move. He punches hard down on the knife wound on Fitzâs leg, grabbing it and squeezing, as the manâs scream rips through the night, and he lets go of Titusâs neck.Â
Cracking the exhaustion out of his neck, Titus slowly stands tall, towering over Fitzâs pitiful body, and he reaches over his shoulder to pull out his final weapon. Â
The Warhammer comes down hard on Fitzâs already injured leg, smashing the bone to bits and breaking it entirely. The manâs strangled cry is music to Titusâs ears, and he licks his lips. Â
The hunger grows in his belly, the scent of blood and bones floods his senses. Titusâs body starts to vibrate, the sickly sweet adrenaline coursing through his veins causing a smile to break out on his face. The shadows and moonlight create an image, to both Fitz and you watching through the screen, of an angel of death.Â
+Â
âShit!â Felicity screams, throwing a glass on the ground from her own bratty frustration, the fragments shatter across the floor. âItâs not fair!âÂ
Her snooty, bragging smile had left the moment Fitz started talking about taking you as a wife. She knew not only did he mean it, but that saying it to Titus would mean his end. Â
You had twisted with disgust in your throat, but itâs reformed into something completely different now. You watch as Titus raises his warhammer, and slams it directly into Fitzâs ribs, and the crunch of bones is so loud you can hear it through the cameraâs microphone. Â
Your eyes go wide in an eager smile, saliva forming under your tongue. Your thighs clench and you know youâve soaked through your panties already.Â
+Â
The sound of bones breaking echoes through the trees, as Titus jams the warhammer into Fitzâs spine, most likely snapping it in two. Â
Titus lets out a thrilled laugh as he watches Fitz crumble in front of him, and he drops the weapon to the ground. Thereâs still a little bit of life left in the man, but Titus will snuff that out soon.Â
He rips his leather gloves off with his teeth, pocketing them before wrapping both hands around Fitzâs neck. Thereâs no fight left in Fitzâs fading eyes, as Titus squeezes his throat, crushing the veins under his hands. He wants to feel the life fade from Fitz without a barrier. Small, choked out breathes escape the manâs lips, eyes and skin turning red from the blood vesicles popping, tongue lolling out to the side.Â
âYouâre a worm of a man and I am a fucking god,â Titus groans, voice deep, dark. âYouâre never gonna get these hands on my wife. Or yours ever again.â Then Titus brings his lips right to Fitzâs ear, hissing as he declares, âIâll see you in hell, when I come to rule it.âÂ
His hands press down on the manâs throat until he hears a distinct crunch, and all the light leaves his eyes, as a final breath is caught between the bones.Â
His body falls to the ground with a heavy thud.Â
+Â
Felicity lets out a roaring scream, falling to the ground in a fit of tears.Â
You bring your whiskey back up to your lips with a satisfied, needy smile.Â
+Â
After a few moments of staring down at Fitzâs spent body, blinking as he takes in the pathetic form of his latest victim. Â
Then, without much more thought, Titus picks up his warhammer again, fingers tapping the handle before wrapping around it tight. He knows thereâs a camera hidden in the tree right across from him, and somewhere in the clubroom where youâve been forced to wait, youâd have the perfect view of him. You saw every part of it. You heard the vile things this piece of meat had to say about you.Â
He raises the warhammer above his head, and lets out an animalistic yell as he brings it down on Fitzâs head, smashing his skull to bits. The blood splatters up on him, staining his white shirt with beautiful red splotches, and smattering over his face in an arching pattern.Â
Titus looks right down the camera, as though piercing right through to your eyes, and he licks his lips. Â
+Â
The glass presses into your bottom lip as your mouth is dropped open, eyes wide and hungry, staring at how your husband eviscerated Fitzâs skull with his warhammer.Â
âYup,â is all you can say, attention never leaving the screen. You want to get this part over with. You stare at the screen at Titus, covered in blood, looking like a demonic king. His muscles ripple through the lines of his shirt, and you want to get your hands on him more than anything. You want to scratch down his chest, leave red marks with your nails, spill his blood onto your hands, and then you want to clean him off with your tongue.Â
Ursula giggles, âGross.âÂ
She glances over at Felicity, who is sobbing hysterically, hand covering her mouth as she watches in horror, as for the second time in her life, Titus Danforth has killed her husband. âYou are fucking monsters, all of you!âÂ
Ursula starts to take a step to her, but you beat her to it, finally dropping the glass and forcing her to move back until she hits a wall. âYouâre pathetic for ever thinking you and that piece of garbage could take our place. We have the High Seat, not because Titus and Ursula were lucky to have been born to the right branch of the family, and not because I got lucky being thrown at them like a fucking sacrificial lamb. We have it because we are the strongest and the most vicious. Le Bail doesnât settle for anything less. You are a lesser being.âÂ
Felicityâs mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words of response seem to come. Her hands clench at her sides, fingernails like claws that look ready to pounce. And as much as sheâs allowed to do it, she knows very clearly now that itâs a fight she will lose.Â
âNow, now Danforths,â The Lawyerâs chipper voice breaks through the tension. His smile reaches wide to his ears and all the way into his teeth, toothy like a cat. âWe must retire to the Black Temple and complete the rituals. Mr. Le Bail does not want to be kept waiting.âÂ
The room begins to clear out, with Felicity running out first, wiping the tears from her eyes, sobbing and calling for her mother. The others look at you, eyes full of fear and reverence, and you just know they finally get it. Not only are you one of them, youâre the best of them.Â
âIf only Titus got to see that,â Ursula whispers to you with a wink. âCome on,â she says, wrapping her arm in yours, and guiding you out of the room.Â
You give her a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. It races with images of the fight, memories of every night youâve spent with Titus, the feeling of how your power has grown within your own body, thanks to yourself, yes, but through him. Your mind is made up.Â
+Â
By the time you enter the Black Temple, itâs already filled with about fifty other Danforth family members, the ones who wanted to be there for the final part of the ritual. Â
Titus stands in the middle of the room, Fitzâs dead body laying on the ground with a trail of dark red blood from where Titus had dragged him into the room. He hasnât bothered to clean any of the blood off his face or arms, he knows this is how youâll want to see him, the spoils of his fight.Â
And your breath is taken away as you emerge at the top of the stairs, giddy and buzzing and relieved, and so fucking turned you feel aggressive. You want to scream at everyone to leave so you can rip Titusâs blood covered clothes from his body and take his cock in your mouth or you pussy or wherever he wants you, however he wants you.Â
You run down the steps, Danforths parting left and right to stay out of your path, and you leap into his arms. Not a care is given to the blood that now stains your lilac gown, as you catch him in a deep kiss, tongue licking into his mouth, teeth biting down on the mark youâd given him, as you both whine into it. Â
You give no thought to your audience, as you glide your fingers into his soft hair, sweaty and wild from his duel. He smells like the woods, the blood, his own natural musk, and you just want to get your tongue all over him. You want to kiss the cuts on his cheek and arm, the bruises on his body that someone else put on him, replace every single one with a mark of love from you. Â
This is how he felt the night you got married, and had traced over every war wound youâd received. Â
A cough comes from behind you, not impatient, just the Lawyer trying to move things along. Ursula appears at your sides, giving Titus a soft pat on the back.Â
Titus carefully lets you down, but keeps you close in his arms as the Lawyer goes through the steps of the ritual. He leads the room in a few chants, a few Hail Satans, and he pulls out the ceremonial knife, handing it to Titus.Â
With a devious smile directly to Felicity, who stands angrily staring the three of you with her jaw clenched, Titus drags whatâs left of Fitz over to the open goat pit. He holds the body just over the mouth of the pit, yanking the neck back so itâs exposed, and as The Lawyer reads the last of the rites, Titus slits the skin of its neck, and fountains of blood pours into the pit.Â
The room breaks into a chant of HAIL SATAN! And the fires of the wall sconces, candles, and grand fireplace grow to greater heights.Â
The last drops of blood are drained from the body, and Titus kicks it into the pit, then raises his knife in a triumphant pose, as cheers break out through the room. Â
Your eyes shine as you take in the scene, the entire family giving praise and thanks to a successful duel. The whole reason theyâre all still standing here and not blown to bits of bloody goo, is because Titus won. That is who the three of you are to the Danforth clan. Itâs more than just head of a family or a kings and queens.Â
Your heart thumps deep in your chest, and you wrap a dainty hand around Titusâs hard bicep, bringing his attention back to you. And he can see it in the rise of your chest, the look of sheer hungry fire in your eyes. You need him. Â
âMr. Danforth, congratulations on another successful duel, Mr. Le Bail is very proud, you of course have his approval again,â The Lawyer says, as you both turn back to him. His eyes meet yours again. âBoth of you.âÂ
You suck in a breath, gaze moving to the set of shelves just beyond him, to the heart candle and ritual materials that Felicity had gathered. âTitus,â you sigh, tugging on his bloody sleeve, looking up him with a pleading expression. âTitus...I canât wait any longer.âÂ
A puzzled frown settles on your husbandâs face for just a moment, until he realizes what you mean, and the excitement blooms as heat in his chest. âYou sure, Little Lamb?âÂ
You nod, then look over at Felicity, who stares pitifully down into the pit. âJust one more thing, and then...âÂ
As though reading your mind, Titus cuts you off with a kiss, placing the family knife in your hand.Â
âEveryone OUT!â Titus shouts, hand tracing up your back, thumb rubbing impatiently on your skin.Â
âNot you, Felicity,â you snap, as she tries to leave through the crowds of family members. A few stray eyes remain on the group of you, but they all know better than to try to stop what will inevitably happen next.Â
Ursula is the one who blocks her path, twisted smile on her face. She understand what the two of you had planned, but sheâs the one whoâs been waiting decades for it. âSorry, did you think you would be walking away from this?âÂ
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â Felicity spits. Mascara has run down her face, her lipstick is smudged where sheâd rubbed it around while crying, and her hair sits out in wild strings. Â
Sheâs never looked worse. Ursula is so happy. But she waits until the other witnesses from the family have left you all alone. âThose things you were saying to my dear sister-in-law today about her and Titus, and me even? In fact, the shit youâve been saying about me for years? Youâre done getting away with it. You are the weakest, most pathetic, branch of the family tree, and we are done trying to nourish you.âÂ
âI wanted to cut you off years ago, after your first marriage, actually,â Titus says with a shrug. âBut this guy today? Wow. You really know how to pick âem. You werenât even good enough for him alone, you heard what he said about taking my wife and my sister? That thing didnât even like you that much.âÂ
You giggle as you watch the red hot anger seep into her expression. Titus gives you a small pat on the back, encouraging you to step forward. That feeling deep inside, that voice that goads you on, reminds you how good it feels to split someoneâs skin, to take a life, it is screaming at you. It fills your veins with electric venom, and you look to The Lawyer for quick approval.Â
He smirks and you and bows his head.Â
âWeâre allowed to kill family members.âÂ
The last thing you see before pure red and white fills your vision is the look of horror on Felicityâs face, the last thing you hear is her blood curdling scream echoing through the temple. You black out completely, and when you come to, Felicityâs body lays at your feet, twenty stab wounds covering her, red blood staining her wedding dress and your own, the knife clangs to the ground.Â
The feeling of Titusâs hand on your back brings you back. âWonderful, my little lamb, Iâm so proud of you.âÂ
Ursula kicks Felicityâs body into the pit with her husbandâs, and then brushes her hands clean. âWell, that was our best wedding since...well yours I guess. Mr. Lawyer, shall we? I think the happy couple needs some alone time.âÂ
She reaches out a hand and The Lawyer takes it, assisting her in exiting up the stairs. Ursula throws you one more wink, before shutting the grand doors behind her, leaving the two of you alone.Â
Thereâs only one second of quiet, one humming pause in the room filled with thick tension, before Titus is on you.Â
His mouth crashes into yours and his hands grab all over, digging into the fabric of your dress, mixing the blood stains from Fitz and Felicity. Titus pulls down on your dress until it pools at your feet, and youâre surprised he didnât just rip it to shreds. Â
Youâre about to make a joke about it, when Titus lifts you and carries you over to the alter table, biting down on your neck. He whimpers at the taste of blood on your skin, and places you down gently. You moan at the feeling of his warm, hard body against yours.Â
Itâs all frantic, the way you grab at each other, the way you kiss and bite all over, the way your hands push at the leather holster on his shoulders. You shove it to the ground with a clunk, then grab at his blood-stained white shirt, the force of which pulls apart the buttons. Â
With a whimper, Titus lets you rip the shirt open and scratch down his chest, as your lips move to kiss over each little cut left by the trees on his cheek. Â
Mournfully, Titus pushes back, just by a foot, to get a better view of you. Both your chests are heaving, rising and falling from the rapid breaths you both release, the same rapid beating of your hearts, but he canât take his eyes off the white lingerie set, lacy and soft, that you put on just for him.Â
âYou look like an angel,â he says breathlessly, eyes full of awe.Â
Even if you werenât covered in little splotches of blood, youâd still find the comparison to be hilariously ironic, in a place like this. You reach out, fingers wrapping around the pendant you gave him, and you tug him forward with the chain, pulling his warmth back into you. Your tongue licks at the cut youâd left on his lip. Â
âTitus, stay with me,â your voice is low, velvety. You link your free hand with his, spread your legs just slightly, and bring the hand between them. âWhen I was watching you out there...fuck. It was everything I wanted, everything I thought youâd be. Youâre so fucking strong, so fucking terrifying, my big powerful man.âÂ
âYeah?â A wicked, toothy smile breaks on your husbandâs face, eyes wild. âI look like a monster?â Youâre nodding before he even finishes asking. He flattens two fingers against the thin layer of lace that covers your slit, soaked through completely. âThat monster is all yours. I told you I would kill for you, my love. They could make me fight a gauntlet of a hundred fucking useless vipers like that thing, and Iâd destroy them all for you.âÂ
âI know,â you moan. âI loved it. Everyone in that room could see it, they all knew what I wanted to do you, to thank you...to reward you.âÂ
âYou donât needâ"Â
âShh,â you let go of his hand, press those fingers to his lips instead. A shudder runs through you when he reacts by rubbing his fingers up and down your pussy, and your hips buck into him, voice cracking when you continue. âTitus, I want to try again. Itâs all I could think about watching you. I wanted you so bad, I was ready to rip my clothes off and run through those woods completely naked so you could fuck me next to his body, I didnât care who was watching.âÂ
âFuck,â Titusâs voice shakes, and his eyes roll back, body contracting even closer to yours.Â
âIâm ready to try again, you were right,â you whimper, yanking harder on his chain to pull his attention back to you. âShe brought everything here for us. We gave Mr. Le Bail two sacrifices, showed him why weâre the strongest, the most worthy of holding his high seat,â your face falls down into a pout, âand I want you to fuck me, like how you killed your prey, here in the temple you built for me.âÂ
And Titus hears it in your voice but thereâs something else in it. Something rumbling and shadowy under the words, something reverberating in your voice. Something pulls him into a trance, mind zeroed in on only you.Â
âYes, Little Lamb, letâs make an heir.âÂ
Itâs cold when Titus rips himself from your body, running quickly to the shelf to grab the materials, and you rush to grab the knife from the ground. You hear Titus mumbling out the spells as he draws a messy pentagram with chalk in the center of the table. Thereâs no careful placement of materials tonight, no ceremony about it, Mr. Le Bail will have to forgive you.Â
Titusâs fingers shake as he lights a match to set the heart candle ablaze. When everything is set, as good as itâs going to get tonight, he pulls you into a deep kiss, ripping the bralette from your body. He just canât stop himself from leaning down and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, as your back arches into his touch.Â
You tear the rest of his shirt off, careful not to irritate the cut on his arm from the fight. His mouth doesnât leave, moaning and whimpering as he sucks the hardened nub into his mouth. One of your hands slides into his hair, scratching at his scalp, holding him to you for just a little longer.Â
He finally lets go and snatches the knife from you, quickly pricking both of your fingers, kissing you as he draws the symbols on your bodies; a pentagram on his chest and one over your womb.Â
You reach down to unbuckle his belt, and youâre about to wrestle him out of his pants, when the memory of a sick thought from earlier shows back up in your mind. Â
âTitus, c-could you, um,â you bite your lip, almost too excited to even say it.Â
âWhat, Baby? Whatever you want, you can have.âÂ
âCan you wear the gloves?âÂ
A devious smirk cracks onto Titusâs face, and he stands up straighter, looking down at you curiously. Thereâs no argument when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the black leather gloves heâd dawned earlier, eyes never leaving your aroused face as he carefully slips them back on. Titus leans over you until your body hits the edge of the alter table, and your back arches on it. His hands land flat on the table on either side of you, strong, muscled arms bracketing your body, trapping you.Â
âYou want me to fuck you with these on? Oh, Baby,â He laughs, cruel and teasing, and so fucking turned on. âWhat me to bruise you with these on? Hm?â He grabs your face and you moan at the feeling of the rough leather on your jaw, eyes shutting from the pleasure. âWant me to treat you like a piece of meat? Like some thing Iâm hunting in the forest? Can I spank you with these on too? Hm? Bet itâll be so much easier to mark you up with leather rather than just my hands. That what you want?âÂ
âYes,â you whine, grabbing at his forearms, not to move him, but rather because you already feel your legs going weak, and you need the anchor. âPlease, Titus.âÂ
He does what you want, rears back his hand to give a slap on the cheek. It's lighter than what heâd normally do, but you still react beautifully to it. You let out a quick squeak, eyes going wide but dark, wanting, and your body pulses from the impact.Â
âFuck, look at you,â Titus moans, and he suddenly turns you around, pushing your front onto the table. âSo needy for it,â he says, voice quiet, mostly to himself, and full of admiration. Somehow, a small part of him still canât believe someone like you exists, just for him. He drops to his knees behind you, and tugs your panties down your legs, wrapping them around his wrist for safe keeping. âSo needy for me.âÂ
He slaps your ass, and the leather creates such a delicious sting on your skin. You hiss and he spanks you again, then gives one of your cheeks a quick bite as he stands back up. That makes you gasp and squeak again, and you look over your shoulder at him, eyes wet and pleading. Â
You donât get a chance to beg before heâs spanking you in that same spot again, and as the skin heats, you just know a deep mark is already starting to form. You whimper as he hits you again and again, pussy leaking as you writhe into his touch.Â
His hand comes down for the umpteenth time, you havenât bothered to keep count, and then it grabs your ass, squeezing where heâs left a handprint on you. Â
Then, digging his fingers in hard, Titus starts to rake his hand up to waist, and with both he leaves a deep trail on your skin with the gloves. The leather drags and leaves goosebumps as he slides up your sides, over your tummy, up to your chest to grope your breasts, and then back around to your back, up your shoulders, until they stop on the back of your neck.Â
With a grunt, Titus, shoves you back down on the alter table, face pressed to the cool, onyx stone. His voice comes out low and scratchy, but with a steely resolve as he continues the ritual, âWith thy assistance, may the seed grow in your wisdom and your strength.âÂ
Your fingers are flat on the alter table, and you feel him move quickly behind you, the sound of his buckle clinking open echoes through the room, reaching your ears like a melody. When Titus presses against you again, you shudder at the feeling of his dress pants on your thighs. Â
He didnât bother to take them off, he canât wait any longer. He kicks your legs open more for him, and grabs you hard by the waist with one hand, while the other grips his cock. He rubs the head into your dripping entrance, biting his lip at the view of it glistening, overflowing for him.Â
âWith me, Baby,â Titus grunts, pushing the head of his dick inside you.Â
Youâre both breathless as he shoves his cock in all the way, chanting together, âShemhamforash.âÂ
Titus whines at the feeling of your tight, hot pussy taking him in, practically whimpering as he follows up with, âHail Satan.âÂ
He doesnât give you a single moment to breathe before heâs pulling out and quickly driving back in, hips meeting your ass with a delicious slap. Heâs spent the last ten months memorizing every little thing that drives you crazy, and he proves it every time heâs inside you. Â
âNobody could ever fill you like this,â Titus grunts, setting a brutal pace, as a hand slides up the ridges of your spine until it twists in your hair. He yanks you back hard, ripping a surprised yelp from you, then swats at your ass again. âHmm? Who were you fucking made for?âÂ
âYouYouYouYouYou, Titus,â your voice breaks, cracking deliciously as you chant his name, already so taken apart by him. Â
âThatâs right, fucking made for me,â He shouts, voice cracking beautifully into a whimper, like heâs desperate to not only remind you, but any force or spirit that could be listening. âYouâre mine, my fucking wife, and this is my soaked pussy, and Iâm going to fuck you full of my fucking seed.âÂ
Heâs fucking you hard enough to make it hurt, to make bruise, so youâll feel it for weeks, just the way he knows you love. The way that always got you through when he had to leave you for business. The way that no other woman whoâs ever taken him as been able to handle. None of them, no matter how rough he may have gotten, have ever had the true full force of Titus Danforth, but youâve craved it since youâd met him.Â
âPlease, Titus, want it so fucking bad,â you mewl. ââm all yours.âÂ
Any other night, any other context, youâd be slapping him and shoving him back and showing him just how much he belongs to you too, but the ritual requires submission, and fuck it just feels so good to not have to think too much.Â
But he already knows what you want to hear, and heâs always happy to show that he knows too. âând Iâm yours, sweet lamb, body and soul. My sick little monster, Iâll give you everything in this world that you want.â He lets your hair go and you drop to the alter, as both his hands grip hard at your hips as he leans over your back, chain tickling your skin. âMoney, homes, my cock, my love, a baby, youâll have it all.âÂ
Adrenaline pumps through your veins in thunderous echoes, mouth dropped open as cries release freely. You must look like animals, like a pair of demonic mates fucking covered in blood, moaning and grunting in perfect harmony. Â
Your eyes glaze over, only the feeling of his hard cock fucking hard into you, his fingers digging into your skin, his grunts like a drum beat, can break through the jolts of pleasure that ripple through you.Â
Titus heaves in deep breath after breath, as his gravely, scratchy voice continues on with the latin parts of the ritual, drawing in the powers of the devil to fill you. The room grows hot as fires grown around you form every sconce and candle and the fireplaces. Itâs as you remember from the first time youâd tried it, a new presence entering your space. Your cheek presses to the alter table as you look directly into the fire across from you.Â
Even in your trance, your brain a fuzzy cloud consumed only by thoughts of Titus, eyes hypnotized by the flames dancing in front of them, you see something in the fireplace.Â
There are eyes staring back at you. Eyes youâve now seen a few times, and a crooked, fanged smile in the flames. This time you donât stare in awe at him, no, your wide eyes are filled with determination. This time you beg him.Â
âPlease, please, please,â your voice is whiny and desperate, raw from screaming. âI want it so bad, I need it. Please,â your voice raises, both in volume and tone, and you wonder if Titus even registers your pleas are not for him. âPlease, give us an heir.âÂ
Behind you, Titus only moans louder, hips hitting into you harder, hands gripping down on you harder, the pendant you gave him bounces against your back. He pulls you up to his chest, one hand wrapping around to hold you there by your tummy, the other glides up to grope at your breast, pinching your nipple between his middle and pointer finger.Â
In front of you, Le Bailâs smile grows with the flames, as you feel the blood of your victims begin to shimmer and heat on your skin. This time, you feel a hand wrap around your throat and force you to look upwards. Â
You canât see him, thereâs no face in flames looking back, but, as tears slip from the outer corners of your eyes, running in cold tracks down the side of your face, you hear a deep, velvety voice in your mind, âAsk me again.âÂ
âPlease,â you choke out. âGive us an heir.âÂ
The hold releases and you feel something soft like lips kiss the center of your forehead. You hear laughter and crackling, like little sparklers going off all around you, and then the presence is gone.Â
Titus is moaning in your ear, and he licks up one of your tears, lips staying at your temple. The movement of his body into yours hasnât stopped or slowed down at all, as though he wasnât aware anyone else was here with you. His hand takes its own place on your neck, forcing you back to look at him instead, finding your eyes distant. âYou with me, Little Lamb?âÂ
âYes,â you moan, touching your own hand to his, putting enough force to let him know you want him to squeeze down.Â
He does so, face twitching into pure admiration, and he cuts off the supply of air and blood to you for a few seconds before releasing, taking in your heaving breaths with a kiss. Â
Finally, his rhythm becomes erratic. He shoves you back onto the alter and reaches his hand between your legs. The feeling of thick leather rubbing circles onto your clit sends charges of pleasure up your spine. Your cunt flutters, legs shaking as a peak builds in your stomach, and your breath comes out high and breathy as Titus takes you closer and closer to the edge.Â
âWith me, baby, with me,â he whimpers, âCome with me while I fill you, sweet girl, fuck, come with me.âÂ
âYes, yes, Ti, I-I,â you stutter, words trapped in your throat, and with one particularly hard slam into your cervix, you scream out your husbandâs name, begging him to fill you, as your pussy clamps down tight on his cock, and you come with a loud cry. âTitus, fuck!âÂ
He swears, thrusting into you only a second later one last time, coming deep inside with a moan of your name, body convulsing as he fills you to the brim. âOh, baby, my sweet lamb, shit, thatâs it, took me so well, always take me like a good fucking girl.âÂ
The fires around you reach their great heights, and a rush of hot air bursts around you, before the lights drop back down again.Â
You twitch and whine as you feel him empty in you, warmth filling you as your spent body deflates, and the two of you whisper in unison, âHail Satan.âÂ
Your fingers curl up softly, tapping the table as though youâre trying to wake some life in you. Titus kisses up and down your spine, the back of your neck, your shoulders, as he removes the leather gloves and drops them to the ground.Â
His bare hands soothe your arms and sides. The touch of his fingers makes you shiver, goosebumps form in their paths, and you wish you could just stay like this all night. You want to keep him inside you, warm his cock until heâs able to go again, maybe let you ride him on the table this time, not for the ritual, just because you want to.Â
But you donât have all night. Titus knows this as he pulls out, turns you so youâre facing him but leaning against the table. You start to let out a whine in protest when you feel him leak from you, a spike of anxiety over wasting it pierces your heart. He can feel that energy from you, and he shoves the come back inside with two fingers.Â
The feeling is so good and so right you almost beg him to make you come again like this.Â
âHold on, baby,â his voice is soft, cutting through the needy madness in your mind. You bite your lip as you watch curiously while he unwraps your panties from his wrist with his teeth. Titus drops to his knees, looking up at you with a soft smile. âLift your feet for me.âÂ
He peppers soft kisses on your knees as he slips your panties back on, lips trailing your legs, and he pulls his fingers out once theyâre all the way in place. He kisses your lower stomach, right over your womb, humming his only silent plea to Mr. Le Bail, as you run your fingers through his sweaty, silver curls.Â
âI know it worked this time,â he says softly.Â
Just the smallest bit of fear remains in you. His lips meet the place on your tummy where, in your nightmare, Priscilla had pushed the knife in. Â
But you shake that doubt out of yourself. Titus is looking up at you with that boyish wonder, that grin that makes him look so young, despite the crows feet around his sparkling eyes. Â
âI think so too.âÂ
Your gaze trails around his body, over each of the freckles that stand out darker than others, the bruises and scratches, little leaking blood droplets from his injuries, and the blood left by his victim from the fight tonight. He must have felt some pain, right? It was a hard fight for a bit there, and Fitz got some blows in, so Titus...he must have been pushing down any pain, for you.Â
Your place your hands on his cheeks and pull him until youâre the one looking up again. You kiss his jaw, trail your lips to his, and you both sigh into it. Â
âTi,â you say, rubbing circles on the little cuts on his cheek. âYou always take such good care of me. Tonight, will you let me take care of you?âÂ
He looks unsure. âI was very rough with youâ"Â
âYou won a duel to the death,â You interrupt, voice just as stern as the look you give him. âNow Iâm not asking. Youâre going to let me take care of you.âÂ
He purses his lips petulantly, pressing down any argument heâd very much like to make. âFine.âÂ
You smile brightly, âGood. Better enjoy it while Iâm feeling generous, you know. Because if it took, then for the next few months youâre going to be doing everything for me. Right, Daddy?âÂ
Youâre pretty sure you feel his dick twitch where itâs pressing up against your thigh, and you smirk.Â
âDown boy,â you whisper, pressing another kiss to his cheek. âLetâs get you cleaned up, and then we can talk about a round two in our suite. You know, just in case.âÂ
âFuck, I love you,â Titus sighs, wrapping you in his strong arms and lifting you while you giggle. This is the you he was missing, sweet and playful and a little mean. And all his, most importantly. His little Lamb, his monster.Â
+Â
DANFORTH COUPLE EXPECTINGÂ Â
Mr. and Mrs. Danforth made an official pregnancy announcement, PEOPLE has confirmed.Â
This is the first child for Titus Danforth, only son of late billionaire businessman and political lobbyist Chest Danforth, who passed a little over year ago.Â
Mrs. Danforth is said to be in her first trimester, and everyone in the vast Danforth family has been extremely supportive of the couple. Ursula Danforth made a statement congratulating the couple on their âwonderful giftâ on her Instagram and is said to be looking forward to transitioning to her new role of Aunt and most likely God Mother.Â
The announcement comes as a light in a time of healing for the Danforth family, following the tragic death of the coupleâs cousin Felicity and her new husband Fitz. The newlyweds had sadly passed the night of their wedding after crashing their vehicle off a bridge in what police suspect to be an incident of drinking and driving. Their bodies have not yet been recovered.Â
âWe are brought together as a family in the form of new life after a great loss.â Ursula Danforth concluded in her Instagram post.Â
The couple are expecting this fall and are said to be very thrilled.Â
FIN.Â
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