#mackenzie shepherd

[witchqueenofthemoon]

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 34 EPILOGUE (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Here we are at the end. I keep imagining myself four months ago, on the edge of all of this--a completely different self, one that was so deeply discontent with everything in her life, unable to confront it all. I wonder what I would have said if you told me that soon not only would I have written a book, I’d have broken up with my partner of almost 8 years, changed my diet utterly, and tested the limits of my endurance for a broken heart. WELL, SELF, HERE WE ARE, ON THE EDGE OF OBLIVION. I’ve charged through all of it, and now I’m floating in the ether, unsure of where my path is going to lead next. To say I’m terrified is an understatement; but mostly I’m just drifting inside all of this, trying to take it an hour at a time. BODY AND SOUL was, and is, and always will be, about the bond between two luminous souls that cannot be broken by anyone or anything--a bond that is capable of changing the fabric of time with its strength and endurance. Love is everything. Love is the gold that you see in dappled sunlight and in the coolness of the evening and the sunset that floats down a horizon; it’s in the touch of hands, the quiet moments of stillness when you’re alone (yes, it’s there too), the earnest eyes of another heart seeing into yours. In the end, the love we give will always determine the love we’re capable of receiving--and if we can both take the love we’re given and give of ourselves with abandon, we’ve found the secret to life. My sincerest thanks to anyone and everyone who has supported this journey for me here on Tumblr specifically, but especially to these luminous beings: @misslunarayne, who has now become one of my dearest friends and closest confidantes, @ladywriter94 who has been my CONSTANT cheerleader and has sent me so many asks to rekindle my drive when my brain felt empty and my candle burned low, @surprisebitchwrites who was a ray of light from the beginning (and who coined Duckenzie--for which I am forever in her debt), @hi-ilovedamien who has been so earnest and attentive and made so many wonderful Instagram edits, @kahhlo who seemed to overcome her shyness along the way (hey baby doll), @deanfinite and @goddess-of-inferno who also felt moved to make edits, and last but certainly not least, @nat-de-lioncourt, who made the edit for my masterpost (the first one anyone did for my story), and was one of BODY AND SOUL’s most vocal supporters from Day 1. Without you, this story could never have been what it became. I’m indebted to all of you. Here, words fail me. I’m just so grateful.

When it comes to the garden house, it’s an idea most of all--I avoided too many details, because the garden house is what YOU want it to be. It’s my dream, but it’s your dream too. It’s the dream that comes to life when you open your heart to love and beauty. This is Kenzie’s dress in the painting. I made my AO3 (I’m @witchqueenofdarkness there too). Look for Part 1 there this week along with the BODY AND SOUL Spotify playlist (coming soon) and a masterpost that includes every BODY AND SOUL edit anyone has made for me. I’ll be seeing you.

EPILOGUE

ONE YEAR AFTER THE WEDDING

Kenzie was elbow-deep in her tomato plants. They were bursting with ripe fruits; tomatoes so large and red and perfectly formed they seemed unreal. All of her vegetables were growing that way; this was the first yield since the garden’s initial planting, and she still couldn’t quite believe how utterly spring and then summer had burst upon the house. There were a million flowers; the dahlias and lilies she and Duncan had planted together in March were blooming in lush rows along the south side of the greenhouse, stretching along its frosted glass facade. Beyond that, the house itself was surrounded by lavender and hydrangeas, towering sunflowers, yarrow and catnip, all growing with lush abandon, dazzling her eyes with their color under the shade of her straw sunhat.

We suspected this might happen, but we could have never imagined just how beautiful it would be. In this place, the laws of nature are greater. Held in the palm of Her hand, things grow endlessly. The Fates weave their endless tapestry through time and space; She creates and destroys, always.

Kenzie turned her head as she heard soft neighing behind her, the steady, slow sound of horseshoes on earth. Crocus was coming up to the fence, tossing his head at her. Whatcha doing? The soft drift of his low, large energy drifted across the yard to her; his tail flicked lazy flies from his hindquarters, silky cream in the June sunshine. Kenzie couldn’t quite hear the horse’s thoughts, but sometimes she felt like she could get small little pieces of his mood, tiny drifts of strange horsey contemplations; happy, she felt from him. Content. Kenzie stood, wiping the dark earth from her hands on the pair of old cut-off denim shorts she wore. She approached the post-rail fence, craning to look beyond Crocus for a moment to the field behind him.

“Where’re they, huh, honey-sweet?” She murmured, reaching two fingers to his damp nose. Crocus tossed his head; the braids in his mane slapped on his long neck. Beats me. Chasing dragonflies. Eating tidbits.

Kenzie stuck a finger in her lips, against her tongue, and whistled out into the low breeze. “Ivy! Pepper!” She whistled again, sending drifts of golden thought out beyond the hill the fence stretched around. She paused for a moment, hand drifting up Crocus’ long snout, then smiled as she heard the telltale sound of galloping horses; their two dark shapes drifted around the hillside and she grinned.

“Pepp, Ivy, come on over here, come on, come see me,” she chanted, hitching herself through the fence’s slats and carefully over the enclosure. Pepper made it first; his dark-chocolate coat shone in the haze of the afternoon, blindingly smooth, his flanks rippling. Black-eyed susans were woven into the darkness of his mane; Kenzie had spent hours with him yesterday, braiding them through. My sweet dark Pepper, she thought, turning an arm up to him; he pressed his long forehead into her hand and she cooed up at him. Ivy was tossing her head, eager for attention; her black coat was like a dark, reflectant pool, luxuriously smooth. She had tiny daisies in her mane; one of Kenzie’s favorite things to do this summer had been spending hours on their manes in the morning, hours with their quiet, huge spirits, the strong scent of them, their wide eyes, the overwhelming aura of them. My sweet Crocus, Pepper, Ivy. My beauties. She rode Crocus most often; Ivy had gravitated to Duncan from the start, eager to be near him, though he’d take Pepper out with Kenzie sometimes, beyond the field and through the woods to the far northwest of the property. Kenzie could often feel the presence of the Goddess in them; they were ever sweet and mild to her, far more inclined to be ill-behaved and mischievous toward Duncan. But I’m their beloved, Kenzie knew. Even they know who I am; who I was once. My sweet ones.

She turned away from them as she heard the screen door to the side of the garden house creak open; River stood there in a tulip-sleeve white summer dress with lemons printed on it, a floppy sun hat covering her straight black hair.

“Kenz, I got somemore paperwork from the court ordinance, I just need you to sign it when you get a chance. And Frederick called--he heard of some Waterhouse painting coming up for auction and wondered if you and Duncan would be interested in it.”

“Thanks, River, I’ll come in in a second, is that okay? Did they say anything about how Mr. Carothers is doing?”

“They said something about him doing well with the program, almost being done with it, I think. That was all, really.”

“That’s good. Can you call Frederick back and make an appointment for us with him next week? It’s a good excuse to visit him. I’d love to see the peacock again, anyway.”

“Sure, Kenz. I made some yerba mate iced tea a little while ago, if you want some.”

“Oo, that sounds lovely. I’ll be in soon, Riv.” Just giving my babies some love, she thought, and knew River understood without her needing to say it aloud. She turned back to Crocus and heard River swing the door shut; long, languid ivy was growing along that side of the house, dipping down through its stony facade, and the sight of it lingered in her mind as she stared into Crocus’ damp eyes. Her thoughts drifted to the court appearance several months ago; the time the man--his name was Jeremy Carothers, and he’d spiraled into deep alcoholism when he’d been fired from Shepherd Unlimited several years back--had broken into the Post building and accosted her seemed like ages ago, another life; revisiting it in the court room had been surreal. But as soon as she’d gotten to the court house that day, Kenzie had known she wouldn’t be pressing any charges; in fact, it had become clear to her that she wanted to pay for the man’s mental health services entirely. There’s no room for animosity in my heart, she thought. I am far too blessed. The point was always to share it with others. Always. The work the Foundation had been able to accomplish over the past two years was so extraordinary and moving; every major city in the United States was now implementing a solar program, and green house gas emissions, through the Foundation’s initiatives and new laws passed by the President with the help of Shepherd Unlimited and newly elected progressive candidates to public offices, were plummeting.

The world was changing.

Because of our love, Kenzie thought. Because of everything we’ve been able to do. Together. Spreading it far and wide and making it grow. Grow over everything. Touch everything with golden light.

Kenzie kissed her fingertips then pressed them to Crocus’ cool nose. The sun had become oppressively hot; she stepped towards the stable, beckoning to the horses.

“Come on, beauties, let’s get in the shade, shall we?” Ivy and Pepper eagerly followed Crocus, who was always the leader; he lumbered up lazily beside Kenzie as she made her way through the cool enclosure of the vaulted stable, carefully pushing the gates closed on each of the horses in turn, their paddocks side by side; a golden gate for Crocus, blue for Ivy, red for Pepper. She gathered their grain bags from the storage on the side-wall, pouring a cup full into each, attaching them to the hooks on inside walls of the three stalls; her eyes roved over the horses as they ate, pressing a fingernail against her mouth.

Miss you, baby, she thought out into the ether. Can’t wait for you to come home. Kenzie felt out with her mind; let her goldness drift through the stable doors, out and down to the beaten path that led in two directions, one to the house’s front gate (white-washed and covered in Zinnias this time of year), the other to the side greenhouse, its frosted, slanting rooftop glittering with sun; the double doors were open and she could almost smell the scent of the ginseng and ginger that were growing wildly within, her towering bamboo plants and pachira aquatica. She pushed her thoughts beyond; far, far beyond, out of the sphere of the property, beyond the forest that surrounded them, down the long roads and the highway to the city, where Duncan was working today. Come home, she thought. Come home and hold me, my love.

For a moment, she felt the drifting column of his blue energy falling against her, despite all the distance. Soon, beloved. Soon, my angel. On my way to you.

Kenzie trailed her fingers along each of the horses’ foreheads for a few moments; then she stepped outside of the stables, along the path towards the house; for a moment she took a detour through the greenhouse’s blown glass doorway, skirting under the canopies of ivy and through the palms that were growing with abandon now in the summer heat. My own little jungle, she thought, and not for the first time. She went on, past the daylilies, petunias and marigolds, bursting with color--here the backdoor led out to a little courtyard between the greenhouse and the main house, a fountain with the forms of Hades and Persephone in the center; Hades and Persephone, but made to look like us, Kenzie thought, gazing over it for a long moment as she passed through. It was Duncan’s face encased in stone there; and hers, hair falling back, petals drifting through its stony waves. His hands drifted at her arms, their faces turned up to each other. This stony Duncan wore an aegis; an aegis that had been carved in the likeness Duncan had described to the sculptor who created it. In the image of the one I saw in my dreams, he’d told her. The one I had in that other place, in that other time.

Kenzie went on into the house, sighing with relief from the heat. Here in the back hallway, there was no sound but the cool drift of a grandfather clock; in its face were the moon, sun and stars, and the likenesses of three women, one young, one of middle age, and one ancient; between them drifted gossamer threads in shining gold and blue. The triple-faced goddess. Her. And Time, which she created after we’d found our love; after we were the first true Soulmates. And now, everlasting.

Kenzie looked up as she heard soft music begin to drift down from the office at the end of the hall; River had put something on while she was working.

I’ll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places....that this heart of mine embraces...all day through...

The light was beginning to fall lower over the hall and the oaken staircase above the clock; evening was coming, and that meant Duncan would be home soon. Kenzie’s eyes drifted up to the end of the hallway beside the door to the office; a huge painting hung there, one that still took her breath away every time she saw it. It’s us, she thought, smiling, tears gathering in the corners of her vision. In the painting of them, commissioned over a year ago after their wedding, Duncan stood with his hand nestled gently at her shoulder; he wore a long black coat that dipped down over his chest at an angle, his curls on his forehead, his blue eyes piercing out towards the onlooker. Kenzie sat in a gold, gilded chair, her expression calm and discerning; the artist, who was known for his comparisons to Sargent, had painted her eyes with an ethereal golden glow, her honey-chestnut hair around her shoulders. Her dress was blush and rosy; flowers drifted through its tulle folds around her feet and the floor. Her hand was lifted around Duncan’s fingers, and her moonstone and diamond wedding band glinted there, painted to a lifelike perfection. The Young Royals, the artist had named it; anyone who beheld it regarded it with a sense of awe, often staring at it for a long while, seeming to lose themselves in their eyes, its calming aura.

In that small cafe, the park across the way…

Kenzie was reminded of taking Duncan to Emissary that morning two years ago; the softness of him as he pulled her against him on her constellation coverlet. She thought of how he’d kissed her with such abandon in front of One Franklin Square; in front of a crowd, and she smiled, blushing at the memory. We didn’t care at all.

I’ll be seeing you, in every lovely summer’s day, in everything that’s light and gay, I’ll always think of you that way…

The oak circle, she thought, clutching her hands around her waist--overcome, suddenly, in the drift of memory. That first time at the beach house. The Gala. That night at Le Diplomate, when my heart felt about to burst, his lips on my cheek. The first time I saw The Youth of Bacchus, the first time I saw him, in the roses, on that balcony. And I felt Her; I felt the hand of Fate. Rosemary. The knowledge of our destiny, our past, our future, our task. And we’ve begun to accomplish everything. Despite that other world, or our other selves, or our other fates in those other places; in this world we’re together, and we’ve accomplished wonders, and we’ll do more wonders still. It’s the love between us that did that. It’s the love between us that will go on and spread over this whole world--it’s love that heals everything.

She heard his footsteps on the pathway outside before she saw him; sensed him, drifting stormy blue. The door behind her opened; she turned and fell into Duncan’s arms, the jasmine and cedar of him causing the tears to fall from her eyes now, her mouth leaning up into his.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered into her lips. Here I am. Home with you.

I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new

I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you

The light continued to fade over the painting at the end of the hall; if Kenzie and Duncan had been paying attention to it, they would have noticed the glowing, ethereal quality of the eyes of their likenesses in it, the way the gold and blue of them seemed to shimmer and pulse as they often did in the evening; they would have noticed how ethereal, incomprehensible wings seemed to shimmer behind their likenesses, how their painted clothing seemed to shift into impossible geometries; but they were too mesmerized with each other, too wrapped up in each other’s arms; there was nothing in this moment but the two of them. As it ever was.

I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you

Evening came on the garden house.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 29 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Okay y’all...listen. I meant to get this part up yesterday, but the Met Gala ate my fucking soul. Billie and Cody finally together at an event since MONTHS AGO at Ryan Murphy’s Walk of Fame ceremony is a thing I have been waiting for...since then, which was back in November. NEEDLESS TO SAY I WAS KIND OF DISTRACTED. Cody looked like some kind of cerulean space prince, and Kenzie looked like a goddamn glitter princess barbie, and then they started screaming along to Cher together and I DIED and now I’m speaking to you from heaven. IT’S BEEN A HUNDRED YEARS SINCE WE GOT ANY COLLIE CONTENT. I was on cloud nine, and I still am. It’s the intense, magnetic chemistry between them that birthed Millory in the first place, and Millory, of course, birthed Duckenzie. The two of them so happy together after months of not seeing each other was just so incredibly wonderful, I feel so grateful to Leslie in particular. I still feel like I’m high off of all of it, but especially the two of them, who are just absolute royalty to me. AND NOW ON TO THE CHAPTER: This is a big one. I’ve been waiting for a long time to introduce Rosemary to all of you--who is (did you guess?) my Angela Basset/Marie Laveau AU. I’ve known for awhile that she was going to play an important role in this story, and it was as wonderful for me to meet her as it was for Duckenzie here. She’ll show up one more time before the end; and I might do a little one-shot eventually where they go to visit her in New Orleans. She makes a really mean gumbo. Her top is like this, her skirt like this, her headscarf, her boots, some of her necklaces: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. A reminder that Kenzie’s dress in this part looks like this. The Fates, at least, my version of them (certainly based on the Moirai but also on the many incarnations of Hecate, as she bestows magical powers on Kenzie and Duncan, and on the witches in the AHS universe, and all witches in all universes, at least in my mythology), were always going to be the Triple Goddess, the Goddess many witchcraft practitioners (myself included) pay homage to: once again, the Divine Feminine energy that guides true goodness in the universe. Her mythology is partially my own invention (giving her a Heaven, making her the force of Light that fights against cosmic Darkness/the Devil, rather than a patriarchal god), partially in accordance to many witch beliefs. I loved that “god” appears to Michael in APOCALYPSE as a little girl; if anyone remembers that I put Ariana Grande’s GOD IS A WOMAN way back in Part 4 (cuz y’all, even then I had plans), you get a cookie. Duckenzie’s High Destiny has long been in the works in the grace notes of my story; it’s the cosmic energy of their union bringing a balance into their world. I’d need some weed to deal with the information they’re given, hence they smoke some weed. To finally have a chance to explain the way in which Duncan and Kenzie are Michael and Mallory was a big moment for me and for this fic; and to explain that she will always be his saving grace, too. I didn’t want to focus on sadness or despair regarding Duncan’s fate as Michael; rather the joy of the redemption of Duncan’s universe. I had to put WITCH-QUEEN OF NEW ORLEANS in this part as an homage to Rosemary being Marie Laveau in another life (also, it’s a fucking jam). Had to include a nod to Purity Ring’s BEGIN AGAIN in Duncan’s thoughts when he’s eating Kenzie out in this part, the most Millory song of all time to me. A reminder that this is the Demeter/Persephone illustration. This is the one of Selene looking down on Endymion. The excerpt Kenzie reads is indeed directly from the book. This chapter marks the closure of an important arc of my fic; from here on out, I’m moving forward into the last 1/3 of the story. As ever, your reblogs, comments, asks and edits (moodboards, playlists, aesthetics, everything) mean the world to me. If you’re reading, please take a minute to reblog the masterpost, thank you. 

The light was high when he finally woke; the day was half over, Duncan could tell immediately, before he even opened his eyes. We slept all morning. Oh god, that’s so fucking wonderful. I don’t remember the last time I slept all morning. Something had woken him, he knew with a vague knowledge. A loud sound.

His dream drifted off. I was in the woods, dirty, starving, tired, and a little girl was offering me an apple, but I wouldn’t take it for some reason...I was waiting for someone else...and he forgot it, moving up from sleep into the summer daylight. The room was balmy-warm, the golden sunlight past the window, coming from somewhere overhead, the wind drifting on the curtains again, the sound of a crow cawing outside somewhere over the lake. It was at least midday, but Duncan could smell the remnants of the hickory fire wafting through the window. It really was a good fire. And I made it. I pulled it out of my own heart, that fire.

There was a long, low buzzing--the doorbell, Duncan knew. Or rather, the bell for the front gate, the keypad and security feed downstairs beside the walnut-wood front door. Who the fuck could that possibly be. We didn’t tell anyone but Madeline where we were going. Maybe it is Madeline?

He stirred, his arm instinctively coming around Kenzie’s breast, his nose turning down into her hair; it smelled like the grass, the sun, her sweet sweat, and the residue of her rosy-jasmine shampoo. The bed was so wonderfully soft, the feel of her so exquisite--Duncan sent out jabs of resentment towards the sound that had woken him. How fucking dare you.

Kenzie stirred a little against him--he leaned up, brushing the hair from her cheek to kiss it. The buzz rang out again, low and insistent and bracing. Her eyes fluttered and she let out a little moan, turning her face up towards him.

“Dunny, what is that,” she murmured. “Turn it off.”

“It’s the buzzer for the gate, baby,” he replied, his own voice coming out in a groan. “Someone’s at the gate.”

Her eyes came open immediately at that. “What? Who?”

“I have no idea. Did we even tell anyone where the cabin is?”

“I didn’t. Did you?”

“No...I don’t think so…”

The buzzer rang again; Kenzie moaned, turning into him, burying her face in his bare chest. How fucking dare you, he thought again, bringing his face down, kissing beside the dip of her eye. How dare you make me get out of bed, away from her. Who could have possibly found us? He hesitated for a long moment, contemplating staying and letting whoever it was ring the buzzer until they got tired and went away--but no, he thought, with a twinge of precognition. It’s someone important. It’s someone we have to see. Oh god, I hope it isn’t Annette.

Duncan got up, pained to move away from her, sliding over the softness of the bed. He trod naked to his suitcase, feeling Kenzie’s eyes on him, her eyes falling down to the half-hardness of his sleepy cock, a pout around her mouth. We came out here to get away from everyone, and still, someone found us. Somehow. Fuck. He pulled on briefs and another pair of jersey shorts, these in dark black, and one of the plain black tee shirts, ruffling a hand through his hair, and yawned.

The buzzer. Again.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed. “Who the fuck is that?”

“If it’s Annette, I’m going to freak out,” Kenzie said, and Duncan watched her affectionately as she kicked her legs under the soft covers in frustration. He glanced at an elaborate golden-framed clock, beside one of the laurels. It was 12:17 PM. Fuck, it’s past noon. We slept for a long time. Fuck it. We earned it. We had a perfect day yesterday, full of wonders, and a perfect, long sleep. And now what--now what.

“I’ll be right back, baby.” Duncan hesitated, then winked at her. Fuck it. I’ll move through space again. Why not. He closed his eyes and grinned as he heard Kenzie’s delighted hum towards him, felt her knowledge at what he was about to do. That’s it, Dunny, show me your magic. Then her laugh cut off--he ached at the loss of it--and before he opened his eyes again, he already knew he was downstairs, facing the inside of the front door.

There was a small iPad beside the door here, the intercom below it and remote buttons for opening and closing the gate. Duncan tapped the tablet with a finger, and the security camera feed came up, facing the outward side of the road. There was a red Toyota Camry parked there, and the woman in the front seat was pressing insistently at the buzzer--he heard it ring again through the house, heard the far-away sound of another exasperated groan from Kenzie upstairs. He couldn’t see the woman’s face very well from this angle, but he could see the chocolatey color of her skin as she extended an arm through the car window. Her nails were long and red.

Duncan switched the cameras; now the one on the feed was from straight above the outside buzzer the woman was pressing so incessantly. Now he could see into the driver’s seat clearly. He didn’t recognize the woman at all, but she was stunningly beautiful; she had sharp, slanting cheekbones, pursed in impatience, full lips in deep mauve, a dark silk titian-colored scarf wrapped around her head. Her eyes flashed out at him through the camera; they were dramatically intense and bright, brimming with secret knowledge. Her skin was warm cocoa-brown, and flawless. Duncan shivered.

Who are you?

He pressed the talk button on the program’s interface, puzzled, frowning.

“Can I help you?”

The woman started; Duncan saw her jerk back in her seat, surprised. Her expression shifted from frustration to one that seemed to be relief--it was difficult to tell on the feed, but she seemed tired, as though she’d been waiting for a long time, or had missed sleep, her expression drawn. As he watched her on the iPad screen, she pressed a hand between her eyes, then lifted her palms together skyward, as if in a silent prayer of thanks.Then she leaned over and spoke into the intercom.

“Praise be to Her, is this Duncan Shepherd?”

Duncan balked. Fuck. Shit. They found us. Someone found us.

“May I ask who you are and what your business here is?”

“I know that’s you, I can feel that it’s you, honey--and I can feel Mackenzie Stone here, too. I need you to let me in. I drove almost 17 hours with some very poor sleep in between to get here from New Orleans, pulled by the Will of the Goddess with a forceful hand, because She wants me to speak to you two and tell you what She told me, that the time is upon us. Now, if you would be so kind, I am starving and would appreciate some breakfast, and I need to park this car before I crash it into a tree, blue eyes.”

“How did you find us? We didn’t tell anyone where we were going. We’ve been here for a day--”

“Sugar, honey, listen, I told you. The Goddess. Sent. Me. She came to me and She told me where you were and She told me everything. It’s gonna take awhile to tell you everything, so you best let me in and make me some eggs and some black coffee and roll me a big joint of that strong blue weed I know you got.”

What the fuck.

“Who are you?”

The woman let out a long sigh, rolling her eyes, dipping her chin up, then turned back to the intercom, enunciating with a pointed impatience.

“I am Her Hand, and She sent me, and Her will is to reveal your High Destiny. My name is Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, and you, Duncan Malcolm Shepherd, best let me the fuck in.”

Her words came like a heavy weight against Duncan’s mind, a pressing hand squeezing on his heart. This woman was powerful; he could feel her power from here, surrounding him, pressing against him, running along the edges of his skin, brushing the sleep from his mind, stoking him wide awake. This woman is a seer, a priestess. She can see things that are happening, have happened, will happen. She’s the one who was coming--the thing on the horizon that we felt on its way. And now she’s here. It’s her destiny to come to us, it’s our destiny to receive and hear her. Okay, Fates. I get it. I’m picking it up, loud and clear. Shit.

Duncan double-tapped the button beside the intercom; OPEN GATE.

He watched the beautiful woman through the screen; she smiled, her teeth shining out from her face--he could see her eyes flash, marvelously clear despite the smallness of the iPad screen.

“Blessed be,” she said, pushing a pair of large dark sunglasses over her eyes. Then she laughed, and the laugh sent a shiver up Duncan’s spine; it was lit with a bright joy that seemed to descend from the top of his head down into every part of his body, a tingling, vibrating energy charged with prophecy. It’s here. She’s here. The thing that was coming has arrived.

He turned away from the intercom and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time; his heart was hammering and he felt far too nervous, suddenly, to try to use his still-mysterious power once more.

“Kenz,” he called as he reached the landing, sprinting down the hall. Something was lifting him up now; kindling his excitement, pitching his nerves to a high place. “Baby--” He ran through the bedroom doorway, skidding to a stop, falling onto the bed on his knees. Kenzie was sitting up now, clutching the blanket against her naked torso, her chestnut-light hair tangled around her shoulders, staring at him with an apprehension in her sleepy eyes; then she saw his face, lit with that strange excitement building in his gut, and smiled at him, nervously.

“Dunny, what? Who was it? What is it?”

“Kenzie, it’s--I don’t know who she is, but it’s her. The one that was coming. The one we felt. You know? She’s the one. She’s beautiful, Kenzie. She’s a medium--or something, I can feel it. You know how we were talking about going to see a psychic? Well--I think she came to us. She felt us. Kenzie, she said she just drove here for 17 hours from New Orleans. She said her name is...Rosemary. Something. She said--fuck, Kenzie, she said The Goddess sent me, She told me where you were--”

His words were tumbling out at break-neck speed--he slid over the softness of the bed to grasp Kenzie’s (beautiful, tiny, beloved) hands, and he could see the uncertainty in her gaze bleeding out into the excitement he felt.

“Duncan--really?”

“Really, my love. Oh, fuck. Really.”

Kenzie let the blanket fall away from her, and Duncan couldn’t stop himself--he clutched at her, under the sweet roundness of her little breasts, pulled her against him, immediately devouring her mouth in a kiss that flooded his body with tingling energy. Her divinity washed over him--the tide of her. Mackenzie Stone. We’re here, at the doorway, our Fate is on the other side. I’m not afraid. You’re here with me.

“I found you,” he murmured into her lips. “I found you, I found you, we’re here, we’re here together, I’m ready--”

“Oh, baby--” and Kenzie was kissing him breathlessly, her smell the sweetest thing in all the world, roses crushing into him. Duncan leaned away to look at her; Kenzie’s eyes were gold-flecked and infinitely bright, and her beauty was iridescent in the noon sunlight winking through the curtains. Mackenzie Shepherd, angel of my life, the part of me that was cut away, the fixed, irrevocable light of my soul.

“She said she has a lot to tell us. She’s coming now, she’s probably almost at the door. I’m going to make us all some breakfast. She knew things, Kenz, I don’t fucking know--I feel like she knows everything about us. You’ll see. Even through the screen I could feel her power. It was coppery-purple, like a sheen all over her...come downstairs when you’re ready, okay, baby? Take your time. I can feel it, can you feel it?”

“Yes, baby, yes. I can feel it so much I can hardly breathe.” Tears were in her eyes; he kissed her again, and Kenzie clung to him, her softness overwhelming to him, and for a moment he wished he could throw her down into the bed, kiss every inch of her nakedness, every tiny secret place of her heart. Then they broke apart; Duncan knew as he could feel she did that the time was upon them, and his adorations would have to come later. 

The time when we find out who we really are.

Kenzie slid away from him towards the edge of the bed and he grasped her waist, helping her down--she stood there, naked and shivering in some phantom breeze, her golden hair falling down her back in a shimmering wave, then she kneeled to her suitcase, tucking the strands that fell into her eyes behind her ears, looking away from him, determined. Duncan gathered up the bag of weed, the lighter, his grinder and his gold pipe from one of the laurel mantels where they’d left it yesterday, then went to the door, looking back at her again for a moment, trailing a hand through the side of his hair.

“Kenzie, baby--”

“Dunny, I know. I know. Just go downstairs, okay? I’ll be there soon. I know. I feel it too.”

He nodded inside her gold-flecked gaze, then turned away, sniffing back the tears he felt coming, trying to stave them. I feel the hand of destiny, and oh Fate, it’s heavy. It’s fearsome to behold it, to contemplate its weight, this Thing, this knowledge we’re about to be given.

Duncan heard a sharp, determined knock on the door downstairs then, and his breath caught. He ran down the hall, throwing himself down the stairs; he reached the door, flipping the double turning locks in fumbling fingers, yanked at the long handle--as he pulled the door wide a burst of golden sunlight drifted over his eyes, caught in the dappled trees. He lifted a hand to shield his face, and saw the woman standing there, silhouetted in a golden shroud that was like a holy halo around her. A halo, like Kenzie’s, Duncan thought. And then he heard her laugh again--and her laugh was even more beautiful now that he was standing before her. A laugh the angels would sigh to hear.

She reached out for him--Duncan felt frozen inside her dark-bright eyes, intensely focused on him beneath arched, graceful brows, the sharpness of her cheeks glowing dark sienna in the sun. She was immediately imposing; regal, her posture graceful, her poise intimidating and unmistakable. Her mouth smiled that radiantly white smile he’d glimpsed through the iPad screen; his breath caught to see it in the flesh, struck by her majesty, the expression on her staggeringly beautiful features, knowing, wise, and expectant. Her burgundy-colored blouse had long, drifting sleeves that fluttered in the slight wind, and her long black skirt fell to her ankles with an intricate pattern of flowers and vines. On her feet were heeled knee-high boots in dark brown leather. Around her neck were what seemed to be a dozen necklaces, gold and silver chains mixed in with leather cords and multi-colored ropes of beads; a raven skull, the claws of unknown animals, the symbol of the waxing, full, and waning moons (like the one Kenzie has), the voluptuous shape of a woman, a huge pointed obsidian, and countless tiny quartz points.

“I see what she’s done to you, Evening Star,” she said, and Duncan felt his breath gasp, suddenly caught in his throat. That’s what Kenzie called me. Sword of the Evening Star. “Snatched you from the jaws of darkness in this world. And I am moved to see it. As I knew I would be. The time of your High Destiny has come.”

Her hand came around his; her touch was very warm and strong. As she stepped closer Duncan could smell myrrh and resin and musky vanilla. The urge of tears rose in him again--the woman clasped her other hand around his, so she was gripping it in both. Her face was about level to his chin in her heeled boots, and she looked up at him with an approving grace; she seems taller than me, though, he thought. The energy around her is so focused; so carefully, intricately controlled.

“What did you say your name was?” He asked, and heard the trembling in his voice.

“Rosemary Antigone Delacroix. High Priestess of Her Will. The Goddess, from whom all life in this universe flows; from whom the life in every universe flows. Mother of all, three-faced, infinite. Your mother, and mine, and the mother of the High Princess, the Hidden Sphere Herself, whom you are blessed to love. Infinitely blessed, sweet Prince, with whom you will heal this suffering world.”

Goosebumps broke out all over his skin, the tiny hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickling instantly, wildly. I knew it. I felt it. That she’s divine. That she’s holy.

“Please, come in.”

Rosemary’s smile lingered as she stepped past him, scattering its light over him; she moved into the house, beyond the staircase, her steps determined, her movements refined, hands clasped together in front of her, through the front room and towards the kitchen. She seemed to know where it was without needing to ask him, and Duncan followed, mesmerized by her. As they reached the kitchen Rosemary sat at the wooden island, reaching out for his hand again--this time, he knew, for the one that held the weed. He passed it all off to her and she sighed; the sound of her voice was deeply lovely, but he could hear the tinge of tiredness.

“Make me some eggs, would you, sugar? I like ‘em a little runny, lots of butter. And some of that turkey bacon I know you have in the fridge there.” Duncan stared for a moment, blinking as she rolled a big bud in her fingers, then began to sprinkle it inside his grinder. She paused, looking up at him expectantly. “And a big-ass coffee. I’ll pack this bowl. All three of us are going to need some fortification for these revelations.  Don’t you worry, your seer is here. I know you’ve been waiting, I feel it in this house, you filled it with your hopes and dreams and your confusion as soon as you got here. I feel it on your skin. You two have power unlike any I’ve ever seen, but you haven’t learned how to control it yet, that’s for certain. It’s zooming around in this space like it’s been snorting cocaine.”

Duncan turned as if waking out of a dream to the fridge, pulling out the eggs, bacon, and a stick of butter, retrieving a frying pan from a line of them against the wall, listening to the smooth clarity of her voice. Her energy seemed to be settling into the kitchen--dusky purple, warm, steady. He could almost see it, the way he could see Kenzie’s gold sometimes. She was taking the edge off him--bringing him down to her calmness, her certainty.

“So...Rosemary. Who--what--how--” He went to the Keurig that sat on the counter, starting a cup, then brought a hand absently to his chin, looking back at her again. She was deftly packing the bowl to the brim, the smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. “How did you...what did She...”

The Goddess, triple-faced, infinite.

“Shhh, blue-eyed Prince. You need to take it slow. All of this--” she gestured around the kitchen, but Duncan knew she meant all of it--the cabin, the lake, the forest with the clearing of black oaks, the field open to the stars--”this place is potent, full of your power, like a power outlet for your magicks. It’s why they’ve been so strong since you got here. This is an in-between place, and anyone who has even a little bit of the power you two have can feel it. But for the High Princess and her sweet consort, it’s like being given an electric shock--one that goes on and on. It’s the reason your lusts have been so potent, too.”

Duncan blushed at that. Lately, mine always are.

She smiled at him, knowing, then lit the bowl and breathed deeply from it, blowing out in a satisfied stream, leaning back against the wooden island.

“Hoo, that’s some good rich people shit,” she hummed. “Ooph, that’s good. Just what I needed, Praise be to Her. Thank you, Mother.”

Duncan got to work on the eggs, carefully cracking two into the pan and slipping two sides of the bacon next to them, deftly pressing the edges of the egg whites with a steel spatula. The smell made his stomach immediately begin to rumble; she’s right, we definitely need to eat before we get into all of this. All...of what?

“You two.” He could hear Rosemary laughing a little now from where his back was turned. “You two have burst upon the world like a garden. The media was not prepared. The public was not prepared. The world is not prepared, but they will get prepared--real quick. The current of time has turned towards fortune. And that, my dear Prince, is a beautiful thing. Beautiful beyond words. That I have lived to see this time is a great blessing.”

“Rosemary, what do you mean? How did you find us here?”

“Wait for her. For the Princess. The little golden goddess. Then I’ll begin.”

Duncan pulled down a plate and slipped the eggs onto it, a little runny, glassy with butter as she had asked. He flipped the bacon to let it fry for a bit longer, and brought the plate over to Rosemary, who appraised him with power drifting in her gaze. She took it, her warm hand brushing against his again; he felt the current pass through them, felt her strength, the depths of her knowledge touch his mind.

“You’ve been manifesting powers here, have you? And before you got here, too.”

“Fuck, yes. Non-stop, practically. I’ve been--transporting myself with my mind. Teleporting? I don’t know what to call it.”

“Transmutation. Salire per spatium. The ability to move, magically, instantly, from one space to another, without physically occupying the space between.” Rosemary took another long puff from Duncan’s gold pipe, then sliced into an egg with her fork, dipping it between her very white teeth. “Mm, baby. Perfect. You can fry an egg for certain.”

“Yeah. Yes. And Pyrokinesis. That’s what it’s called, right? The ability to conjure fire.”

“Create, control, manipulate. All of it. You can do all of those, I guarantee it. Try it.” She nodded to the stovetop, which Duncan had turned on manually. The bacon was sizzling, done--Duncan took a deep breath, then drifted his fingers close to the element, concentrated. Go back now. Go back. The fire went low, blue-white, and then died--the stovetop began to cool instantly.

“Mm--mm-mm,” Rosemary hummed. “Lovely. I can do a little myself, but nothing so smooth as that. That’s lovely. And I can only imagine what she’s been doing.”

“It’s so beautiful, Rosemary. She is so beautiful. I can’t even tell you…”

“You’re biased, baby blue, but I’m sure you’re right. Any other things you’ve found out you can do?”

“She can sense my emotions over long distances...I found out something I hadn’t known the other day that really upset me, and she felt my emotions even though we were on opposite sides of the city. And...we can read each other’s thoughts. You’re the first person who knows that, and I don’t even know who you are. But...yeah. It’s like colors--she looks and feels like gold...she says mine is blue. I can kind of see mine, sometimes, if the emotion is really strong. Now that she’s here. I couldn’t...I couldn’t do any of this before. Before we met.”

Duncan brought the bacon over to Rosemary’s plate and slid it down from the pan. She immediately dipped a graceful hand to it, blowing on it, crunching it in her teeth. He brought her coffee over, starting one for Kenzie now. “I can hear little bits of other people’s thoughts now sometimes, when they’re really strong. I think Kenzie can do it almost all the time. And she can heal people--their bodies, their hearts, their anger. It looks like gold when she does that, too. She can sort of...press it into people, like she’s wrapping them in a blanket.”

He started more eggs in the pan, silent for a little while as Rosemary sipped her coffee. Then he went on.

“Two nights ago there was a Gala--”

“The Shepherd Freedom Foundation Gala, everyone knows that, honey,” Rosemary cut him off. “You two are on the front page of a lot of shit since yesterday.”

Duncan winced, plating the other eggs and getting to work on more bacon. “Really? We turned our phones off before we left. We really wanted to just get away for a few days. It’s been...really intense since Kenzie and I found each other. The scrutiny’s been intense.”

“I understand, Duncan. When my task is done--that is, to tell you your destiny--I’ll be gone, for I have many duties, and you will have a little more time to be alone together. But the Goddess told me what to do, so I’m doing it. When She speaks, everyone best listen. Let me give you a warning. When the two of you go back--back to DC, I mean--the world will have changed. As if time opened a new window. You are on the path now, one heading towards a bright future, not just for you and Mackenzie, but for this universe. There are many--universes, I mean. Not all of them are kind, or light, or good, some of them have no light, and some have a depth of both. This universe has much darkness, but like clouds parting from the sun, your union here will bring transcendent light. As there is a balance of greater darkness in other universes, this one will swing to the light. A major obstacle will have passed when you return, but there will be a new onslaught of attention focused on you and Mackenzie. You will need to be her sword at every turn; you will bow to her light and others will follow your example. So gather your strength.”

Duncan’s head was pounding. What does any of that even mean? Other universes?

“Are you talking about...quantum theory? Like, parallel universes?”

At that moment Duncan heard a soft sound in the doorway--he looked up to see Kenzie coming into the kitchen on bare feet. She was tucking her chestnut-golden hair behind her ear, her face nervously turned down, eyes huge, fingers at her mouth; she wore a floor-length white linen dress, covered in a print of pale pinkish roses, with a dipping neck and short, puffed sleeves. The Tiffany moon glinted at her throat; as she moved her arm the Cartier bracelet flashed there in gold and diamond. Rosemary had turned to her, and Kenzie’s eyes were wide on the other woman. God she’s so beautiful so beautiful so powerful I can feel her lovely power like a field of a thousand violets, like the water flowing out from the sea...Duncan could hear Kenzie’s thoughts falling out of her in a long stream.

Rosemary’s face was cast into an immediate affection--a curious wonder. Her mouth dipped open, away from the black coffee cup which had been poised at her mouth a moment before, and she sighed; the sigh of relief that comes after a long, anticipatory wait.

“Child. Sweet child of heaven.”

“Hi,” Kenzie whispered. She stopped in front of Rosemary, and the woman reached out her beautiful dark fingers. Kenzie slipped her small hands against Rosemary’s; Duncan felt speechless, his heart feeling crushed by the moment, his eyes immediately blurred by tears.

“I am Rosemary Delacroix, and I am a mouthpiece for Her, the three-headed, the absolute, the Goddess. She has many names. Time. The universe. God. Goddess. Fate. Destiny. But she is the one who brought all life to be, kindled it, nurtured it, tended to it. She is the one who remakes life, rebuilds it, cycles it through every age, in every place, in every aspect. She made me; she made you and your sweet blue-eyed Prince from the stars burning like these diamonds, many eons ago.” Rosemary’s finger drifted to the bracelet; her dark eyes glanced up at the one on Duncan’s wrist, knowingly, and he shivered. “She made the thread that tethered you together, Mackenzie Stone and Duncan Shepherd, long ago, before she made Time, because you, sweet High Princess, asked her to. You loved him; you asked to be together always. And she granted your wish. Because you were--you are--beloved in the sight of heaven. You are a High Princess of Her Body, and of the Garden. You are the Hidden Sphere.”

Long, aching tears fell from Kenzie’s cheeks--she glanced over to Duncan, biting her trembling lip, her thoughts crushed gold. I do love him. I do love you, Duncan, more than anything. I do love you. I love you. This woman knows--knows I’m divine, the way you said you knew. The way I can feel it, now, and I can’t find the words.

“It’s fine to cry, honey. It’s fine. You cry as much as you want, mmhm? Come sit with me, angel baby. You come sit with me and let me bask in your sweet light. I can feel it now, like taking a bath in a pool of gold. Goddess, praise be. That’s just fucking lovely. Praise be to Her. She made the masterpiece, sweet sugar, in you--that gold, like a waterfall. What a soul.”

“Duncan’s the one who looks like a masterpiece to me,” Kenzie was laughing a little through her tears, settling down on the bench next to Rosemary, who had dipped a long arm under Kenzie’s elbow to steady her. Duncan brought Kenzie’s breakfast over to her, trying to hide the tears on his cheek with a swift hand--she looked up at him, biting her lip, nodding. “Thanks baby,” she whispered. I love you so much, he heard her thought. I’m not afraid.

“What do you mean, asked to be together always?” Duncan said, his voice trembling. “Are you saying there’s a goddess...that controls the universe, and Kenzie is...what, her daughter?”

Rosemary looked at him for a long moment, her eyes staggering with depth. For a time Duncan felt lost, mesmerized inside them; like the whirling gold galaxies he’d seen in Kenzie’s eyes in the dream, or the blue nebulas she said she saw in his, he felt he could see violet supernovas, cascades of cosmic dust in Rosemary’s gaze for a moment. Something infinite and eternal. Something constant, and huge beyond imagining.

“Make yourself some breakfast first, Duncan. You’re going to need something in your stomach before we really begin. I want both of you to know right now--there is much to tell. It will take some time. My heart is full of all of it. I need your strength, my dear one, to help me tell you everything.” Rosemary pulled Kenzie’s hand into her lap again, gripping it with strong fingers. Kenzie was nodding--a silent, secret thought seemed to pass between them, one Duncan could not see or hear in his mind. He felt immediately frustrated to be cut off from them; then he heard Kenzie speak to him alone in gold waves: be patient, baby, beloved, be patient, okay? Take a breath, the kind you showed me after my nightmare, when you held me so sweetly.

Their eyes met; Rosemary’s gaze shifted between them. Okay baby, Duncan thought, breathing in through his nose, holding it, breathing out. He turned back to his eggs, his stomach in knots.

“To be near both of you gives me strength already.” Rosemary’s face clouded with emotion; she seemed close to tears, and raised the coffee cup to her face again to gather her composure. “The Goddess has made all things in perfect balance, the light and dark, the day and night, and both of you--the perfect balance of these things, the great duality of her creations. To be here with you is to behold her Wonders. Eat, child.” Rosemary gestured to Kenzie’s plate, and Kenzie nodded, picking up a piece of the bacon, biting into it. Duncan brought his own breakfast over to the island, and sat carefully, across from her, reaching out his hand. Kenzie took it, her eyes wildly bright.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst, Dunny, she thought.

Mine too, my sweet Kenzie. Oh, god. Goddess. Whoever is listening. The Fates who have been guiding us…

“Rosemary,” Duncan said, looking into the woman’s dark eyes. “Since we met, I keep going back to this one image, of the Fates, you know, like in mythology--Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. I keep seeing them in my mind’s eye, seeing them weaving this thread for us, the one that brought us together. Does that mean something?”

Rosemary finished the food on her plate, sighed a little, contentedly, and brought his gold pipe up to her lips again, breathing deeply. She dipped a hand under her chin, her eyes taking on a serene expression.

“It’s Her. She is the Fates. The Goddess--She has three faces. Many know Her by them, and worship Her in these aspects, She has many names. She is three-headed in that way; She is never totally the same from one moment to the next. When She came to me this time, She was very young and beautiful--Her skin like the tanned sand under a long sun--Her eyes bright in unbroken joy, her body smooth. But She does not always appear this way. Her aspect is ever-changing, the color of Her skin, Her hair, Her eyes, Her face; when I see Her, I feel it is Her, for She never appears the same. Sometimes She is very old, and sometimes She is a mother, her belly swollen, and sometimes She is not a woman at all, not entirely--She is some other great thing, made of stars and strange matter. I’ve seen Her this way, in dreams.”

She passed the pipe to Kenzie, and Kenzie took it in her small hands, head dipping to breathe in from it. Kenzie was still crying--Duncan’s fingers slid over her palm, sending the strongest wave of comfort he could into her. I love you, baby, I love you, everything is okay, everything’s going to be okay, better than okay…

“The Fates are her aspects--all three are Her. You thought of them because you thought of Her--because you knew, you know it was She who brought the two of you together. Your destiny--the High Destiny, as it has been called--was written when the stars were new. Mackenzie Stone, you are the High Princess of her Heaven. You were an Angel, once, Exalted; there is no earthly word for what you were, but an Angel is the closest word to it. You were the most divine of all. You were loved above all by Her in her heaven; and you still are. I know you feel that, child. I know you know you were loved so. And that you are loved--so much. Her eyes have looked down on you from her heaven and thought Beloved, for millions of years.”

“Yes,” and Kenzie was crying earnestly, her lips trembling as she spoke, shoulders shaking, eyes awash in tears. “Yes, Rosemary, I know. I can feel it.” Duncan gripped her hand tightly, aching to hold her; her fingers clutched him, like he was her only tether in a vast ocean.

“Before conceivable time, you fell in love.” Rosemary nodded to Duncan. “You fell in love with him. Listen to me, Duncan: you too were an Exalted being, an Angel, like Mackenzie. They called you the Sword of the Evening Star, as She has told me. You were a Knight--like a Knight, a Prince in the service of Their holy protection--of Her Holy Court; the fairest of all of her Knights, who are very fair indeed, fair beyond earthly eyes. There is a great Darkness in the universe--in the pantheon of universes. It aches to snuff out the light of Her Heaven, the love that dwells there. Some call it the Devil; Satan; Lucifer. He--It--has many names. But It is mostly the Darkness; the energy that must juxtapose her Light. It wishes, eternally, to destroy Her. But her Knights hold it at bay; her fighters, her warriors, her faithful. In that age, you fought for Her Light, and prevailed many times. She loves you very much. She chose you from many to lead the protection of her Sphere; the Heaven she made, long ago. It is Hidden from that Darkness, made safe through the power of her Grace. Get me some water, Duncan, honey.”

Duncan stood, feeling dizzy, going to the fridge. A Knight for a Goddess. A Warrior Prince. He couldn’t even feel incredulous--he was beyond disbelief. Whatever Rosemary is saying is true, he knew. She knows everything--and she has to tell us. My inability to understand doesn’t make any of this impossible. It just makes my ability to conceive it inadequate.

“Each time you are reincarnated--yes, Mackenzie, reincarnated--” Rosemary said, as Kenzie let out a tiny gasp. “The Darkness, in His cunning, tries to get at you. Sometimes, He has succeeded. As there is Feminine energy in the universes, there is also Masculine energy; there is an endless battle of wills, balance of energies. Their duality is not fixed, rather it shifts and changes from universe to universe, age to age. Yes, Duncan, quantum theory, as it’s called--there are many parallel universes next to this one. Infinite universes, in fact, beyond our ability to conceive. A version of you--both of you--exists in each universe. And as there are many universes, there are many lives you have lived before this one, in this universe, as well. There is another life you have glimpsed here, a life you lived in the past--”

“The Mirror,” Kenzie said, softly. Her eyes were staring into Rosemary’s face, but Duncan could see that her thoughts were fixated on the vast golden Mirror he knew was resting silently in the penthouse bedroom, many miles away, a relic to a past that had been unknown to them until this moment. Frederick knew, he thought. He may not have totally understood, but he knew it was special, that it was magical, and that it was always ours.

“Yes, chickadee, sweet honey,” Rosemary sipped her coffee again, cradling it in her graceful red-nailed hands. “That Mirror belonged to you in another life--you were royalty then, a Viscountess, a powerful witch--that is, a seer for Her--at that time too, with many of the skills you are manifesting now. And in that time you found each other as well, but there was an accident; you both were murdered in the Revolution at that time, in the streets of Paris. And so time turned to another place, another page--and your spirits moved on. But the Mirror has magick. It’s no ordinary Mirror. There are strands of the Golden Sphere in it; strands of the divine instrument given to you by the Goddess, Mackenzie, when you were in her Heaven, in her embrace. A gift that symbolized her love, and her Heaven, which will always be your home. When you were cast to earth when the Law of Time was written, the Sphere fell with you, but it was mostly destroyed when the Darkness tried to rend it. What remained--the fragments left over--were made into the Mirror by one of her seers of old; a disciple of her Light, as I am. And so it will always find you in this world, too, for it cannot be destroyed until this world ends.”

Duncan was standing beside the fridge, still holding it open, the water glass poised in his hand, frozen in her words. Kenzie gaped at Rosemary with her mouth dipped open, her golden hair falling around her cheeks. Rosemary glanced between them, then beckoned to Duncan, and said.

“But that is the Law for the two of you. To exist, always, and find each other, always, into eternity, until the Law of Time is over, when you will return to the Sphere of her Grace. No one knows when that will be, or if it will ever be. That I do not know. I only see small bits and pieces of the future, and their shape is always strange to me.”

Duncan’s hand was shaking as he brought the glass he’d filled to Rosemary--but her hand was steady, and she smiled up at him, reassuringly. I think for now I just need to listen, and try to understand, he thought. I can’t even imagine anything to say. Just please hold my hand, baby.

Kenzie reached out again as he sat, twining her fingers through his tightly. She brought another slice of bacon to her lips, eating despite her tears. Duncan moved his fork to his plate, resolved to the same. They ate quietly as Rosemary went on. What else can we do.

“You met, as was meant to happen, in the Garden of All Delights, where the known universes were all born. It’s a very beautiful place--beautiful beyond all conceivable beauty to our pitiful human eyes. It’s made of colors--oh, colors you can’t imagine.”

Those colors I saw in my dreams.

“Like this universe, Duncan, when you laid eyes on Mackenzie there, the first time, you knew she was your love for all time. There you stayed together for eons by our measure of time. The Goddess saw, and She smiled to see your perfect happiness--the selflessness of your love for Her Princess, Her Joy, Her Golden Child, and Her selfless love for you, the perfect embodiment of Her Grace. Your Names, in that perfect state--there aren’t words for them. She didn’t tell them to me, and if She had I could not speak of them. But you know them, in your secret, hidden hearts. They are beyond all human language. I know She’s shown you the forms you had then in a dream--and so you know those forms are beyond human comprehension, nearly beyond description. Please know that those are your true forms. There is more time before you adopt them again, but someday you will return to them again. In some other age.”

Yes, Duncan thought; he knew. Kenzie with her white-gold hair with a thousand flowers, each one a universe. Her eyes like golden galaxies. Her clothing made of impossible geometry. Her wings inconceivable and more delicate than those of any beast on earth. He could feel Kenzie thinking similarly of what she had seen of him in her side of the dream; his long golden hair and eyes like blue nebulas floating in ether, his shining aegis, impossibly slender and delicate, the strange wonder of his own wings.

“When the laws of the universe, of Time, were written, it was dictated that you--you, Mackenzie, and you, Duncan, would always find each other. In every conceivable universe, and every conceivable age. The Goddess, infinite in Her wisdom and mercy, could not spare you from the Great Law--the law of pain, death, and rebirth--but She could ensure that as the cycle of all things goes on, you would find each other in perpetuity. That you would never long be parted from one another. And Her law has been proven true, as it ever was, in Her Grace. I promise you, in every time, in every age, in every universe, you’ve found each other; for the places in which you haven’t yet, you will. And each time either of you dies--for you have both died countless deaths, as I have, as every living soul has--the cycle begins anew. You cannot long be separated. The Old Law of your love--the Great Love, true as dawn--is known and honored for all time.”

“You mean--Rosemary, do you really mean--we’ll always find each other, no matter what?” Duncan clutched at Kenzie’s fingers as he spoke, looking between them.

“No matter what, I promise you. You were the first Soulmates; in your love was written the Law.”

Duncan took the golden pipe from Kenzie’s hands, which were shaking like leaves in caught in a strong wind--he could see his own shaking too, but felt strangely removed from them, lost in the incomprehensibility of Rosemary’s words. He lit the bowl, breathing deeply, holding the smoke inside his lungs for a long moment--it settled into them, and he breathed out, counting. 1, 2, 3, 4...he handed the bowl, still lit, to Kenzie, who breathed from it again. Her tears seemed to dissipate, soften, her shaking fading into calm stillness.

“Rosemary, can we go outside? There’s a gazebo out there--it’s lovely. We can look at the lake. I think Kenzie needs some fresh air.” Kenzie glanced at Duncan with eyes filled with overwhelming affection as he said this. Rosemary nodded, her aspect calming, soothing, and seemingly unbothered by the weight of her words. This is truly a woman of exquisite power. “You bring that bowl, honey.” She reached for Kenzie’s hand and helped her up.

They all made their way out onto the deck and down the stone path, to where the gazebo lay in the pleasing solitude of the early afternoon. Duncan could see a flock of ducks swimming on the surface of the middle of the lake, beyond where the canoe creaked with a pleasant rhythm; there were more clouds in the sky today than yesterday, but it was still bright and warm, the breeze present again. Rosemary helped Kenzie onto one end of the long couch; Kenzie’s face was pale and her hands still seemed to be trembling. Rosemary moved to the other end, and Duncan knew innately she was leaving them space. Space to be together; to hold each other. He felt a wave of gratitude wash out from him towards the beautiful seer, this woman who had appeared as if out of thin air, by magic, in a car that had driven for an entire day, from thousands of miles away, to tell them impossible truths. He felt Rosemary’s drifting indigo-violet energy come against his, and knew she acknowledged his secret power, and his gratitude, as he acknowledged hers.

He slid next to Kenzie, his arms coming around her tightly, his nose falling against her hair to breathe her in. Roses, vetiver, geranium. Her own underlying musk, the heady scent of her and her alone. Kenzie’s head fell against his chest, her arms gripping him at the waist. Kenzie, we’ll always find each other, no matter what. I could die, I could shout into the sky, I could cry and never stop crying. My heart is full of you. My happiness in this knowledge is absolute. Kenzie seemed beyond words, but the drift of her gold against him was so staggeringly lovely, so intense, he fought to breathe. My Persephone. Flower of the universe.

“Now. There’s a lot more She told me to tell you. Listen carefully, my sweet moon children,” and Duncan heard Kenzie’s thought, like a memory, two moon children in love--

“As I told you a little bit ago--there is a great Darkness in the universe, in the pantheon of universes. As She is older than Time, so is the Darkness. He--It--has a far-reaching hand. You know that Darkness in this world; but this world, unlike others, does not have the depth of power that allows it full sway. The magic in this universe is not as vast as it is in others; here it exists in the hidden aspects. Your coming together has brought some of that magic to life here, but it is finite, and it has limits. There are other universes where your power is stronger, but the Darkness is stronger in those universes, too.”

“We’ve been having these dreams...” Kenzie said in a small voice. The air seemed to be soothing her; the breeze ruffled her hair as Duncan’s hands drifted against its softness.

Rosemary was nodding. “The Darkness had you in its grip here, Duncan, and it was attempting to tighten that grip. Your family in this world, its notoriety, its intentions--they have long been conspiring with the Darkness, long been courting its gifts. Your adopted mother, your uncle; they have done terrible things in the name of their own desires, and they wished to drag you into the shadows with them. They almost succeeded; you were almost fooled. But the Old Law prevailed, as it always does, one way or another. That Law is Love; that Law is Mackenzie; that Law is your High Destiny. The Goddess knew that your love would defeat that Darkness every time. And it always will. The Law she wrote is strong and it will hold. But the means by which it holds is never clear until you meet.”

Rosemary had brought her water glass out with them, and sipped at it for a moment, pausing. Her face turned to the lake; as she gazed at it, she smiled, but her smile had some sadness threaded into it. It was a smile that knew the bittersweet taste of life--knew the balance was impregnable.

“There are universes where your ending is not a happy one, I’m afraid. Despite finding each other, you don’t always get to be together this way. You suffer acutely in some; you die. But the death is written too--the death comes at your own hands, or you die together. It’s the Law; if you cannot be together, you must begin again, which means you first must be taken out of that time, the obstacle therefore removed. Duncan, I must tell you; there are universes where the Darkness claims you. And in some of them, in some of those lives, you cannot be saved but through death.”

Duncan felt a heavy hand settle on his heart--felt the breath drift out of his body as he gasped for air. Kenzie held him closer, and he heard the tiny sound of her sob against him. Oh baby, sweet Kenzie, please don’t cry so. Don’t cry for me that way. I love you. Here, we’re together. Please don’t cry. It breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.

“Is that what the dreams mean?” he asked, cradling Kenzie’s shivering body against his. He felt the terrible heat of her tears soaking through his shirt, her face turned into him, hidden, overcome.

“Yes. They are another life. Another universe. One where your ending is not a happy one. One where Kenzie’s love saves you; as it did here, as it ever does; but not to such happy ends, I’m afraid. It’s just one example of the window of infinite lives you have lived, lives you are living as we speak, in other places, in other universes. That life, that universe, is particularly potent. The magick there is much stronger than the magick here. It encircles that world like a dense fog; it surrounds it and seeps into everything. There you have powers beyond imagining, both of you. The power to raise the dead. The power to turn time backwards. The power to change the shape of things; things that should otherwise be immutable. Or destroy them entirely, completely--utterly.”

“Blue butterflies out of rose petals,” Kenzie whispered. “You making snow, Duncan.”

“Yes,” he whispered against her hair. You, Kenzie, blood on your mouth, turning back time.

“The power to travel to Hell, even, Descensum; to the pit of Darkness. Because there, Duncan, you are a being of Darkness. In that world, you are Michael, the Son of Darkness--in that world, the Darkness claimed you when you were born into it, and the Goddess cannot reach you. There, you are a powerful conjurer, a warlock, and Kenzie--Mallory, as you are called there--you are a powerful witch, in fact, the most powerful of all witches in that world, more powerful than the witches of any other world. A Supreme. Kenzie does not save you in life in that world, however; but through your death. So it is written.”

Duncan felt unable to speak; I think I knew that. I think I knew, when I had that dream on the beach, the dream where I was dying, and grandma told me to go to Hell. And Kenzie was there, her hair dark on her shoulders, she was that other version of herself, the Mallory self, and she held me, and I died.

“My nightmare,” Kenzie burst into a sob again, the wail in her voice making Duncan bury his face, his eyes closing, against her hair, making his heart clench until he felt as though he would suffocate in the agony of her sadness. “My nightmare. That man with your face, Duncan--that man was you in that place, that man was you, consumed, that was real, oh, no, oh no, no--”

Duncan couldn’t think, couldn’t speak; could only hold her, his heart pressed down with the depth of her sadness, determined to hold her as long as she needed him to. Even for that other me, the depth of her grace is staggering. The immensity of her love. I feel lost inside it; it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever felt. Whatever darkness is in me, no matter where I am, who I am, it’s nothing next to her light. I know that. Absolutely. I’d die a thousand times for you, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven. A million times. I’ll die for eternity to be with you for just a moment. That, I promise you. I swear it. I will worship and love you endlessly, as I promised to, when we were Exalted--as we will be again one day. I know I will always recognize your soul.

“Sweet golden child of Her Grace,” Rosemary said, staring at Kenzie with violet, soothing warmth. “Do not despair--there is no need for it. You save him in every world. Your love is what saves him. Reach out with your heart into every hidden place. You know it’s true. There is no place your love cannot reach him. And death is not the end. In her Will, it is never really the end. And here--” Rosemary gestured out onto the lake, to the sky beyond. “Here, in this world, in this life, you’ve been infinitely blessed. In this world, you get to be together; truly together. And not only that. Not only have you found each other, basked in each other, found a haven hidden from the eyes of the world in which to feed each other in power and affection. In this world you have been given even more, for the Goddess does not take away in one world what she doesn’t bestow again in another. Here, you have worldly riches, too, is that not so?”

Yes.

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered. “That was our destiny all along, too, wasn’t it?”

Rosemary gazed at him, and her expression was omniscient in the stretch of this moment; it kindled his spirit up, thrilling his nerves, achingly beautiful against his soul. Yes. That was the plan all along. That not only would you heal each other infinitely, here; you would, together, heal this world, and that, too, would be your happiness.

Kenzie had begun to quiet against him; she turned her tear-stained face up to him, and her eyes glittered unbearably in the afternoon light: gold, russet forest, green like growing leaves.

“The High Destiny,” she whispered. Duncan brought his hand up, wiping under her eyes, pressing the dampness into his shirt, cradling her face.

“Yes, sweet golden honey.” Rosemary was grinning; her face was effervescent in its beauty. She reached for the golden pipe again from where Duncan had set it on the low table beside the lantern, raising it languidly to her chin. “Praise be to Her, in whose eyes all is made clear and wondrous, three-faced, sweet as blessed wine. Your High Destiny is to bring a long peace into this world. And when others in this world behold you together, that is what they see. Your divinity, your goodness, and their redemption.” Duncan continued to look down at Kenzie--she stared at him with a dawning happiness spreading over her face that made him clutch her cheek, dip his mouth to kiss her, uncaring that Rosemary watched--Kenzie, my Kenzie, oh my Kenzie--

Rosemary breathed in another long drag of the gold pipe. Then she continued to speak, her legs crossed with ease, her hand drifting against her many necklaces, thumb trailing at the obsidian, the raven skull.

“I know what’s coming, what’s at the door; by the time you return to the Capital City, Bill Shepherd will have been dead for a day. Yesterday, he signed his Will, at Annette Shepherd’s behest. Duncan: you are now the sole heir of Shepherd Unlimited and all its holdings. Bill Shepherd, as is his way, has over $15 billion dollars in overseas assets that he hasn’t been filing with his taxes. Those assets will be yours in a few hours’ time. With Shepherd Unlimited LLC and the tools at its disposal, it is your High Destiny, Duncan and Mackenzie, to heal this world.”

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered.

“Holy shit,” he felt Kenzie grip his shirt with her little tear-stained hands. “Duncan, oh my goddess. We knew. We felt it all along. We felt our destiny.”

“And Praise be to Her,” Rosemary said, and then she laughed; she laughed long and low, and her voice was like honey, and it seemed to fall into Duncan’s mind like a crashing, heady wine. Her laugh rang out onto the lake, stirring the ducks to flight; as they flapped up from the water, the sun dappled in their water-flecked wings, turning to patterns of gold.

-------

It was late now, the light growing low as it had the night before, gradually then all at once, and Duncan had conjured another fire in the copper pit. This one, if anything, was even brighter and more beautiful than the one before; it was almost transparent, burning wildly high and hot, kindled in the euphoria of his mood. Now that he knew the powers they had were real, not only real, but destined, he felt confident in the ability to strengthen them; felt confident in their reality. I’ve been blessed, and so I’ll use my blessings. I can see the shape of these powers now, their outline like a lingering vision after a bright burst of light. I was destined to have them, and so I’ll use them as wisely as I can.

They had all smoked so much of the weed through the rest of the afternoon he had begun to feel untethered from his body, lost in the softness of Kenzie’s touch, the sweet smell of the space under her ear and along her neck. Rosemary didn’t seem to mind, skillfully ignoring them as they kissed again and again, drifted their hands along each other lazily through the rest of the afternoon. Duncan felt split between his gratitude towards Rosemary and the intensity of his desire for Kenzie--he had been fighting off the urge to slide his hand up her bare leg under the dress for hours, and as he sat in one of the wicker chairs by the fire, watching Kenzie and Rosemary dance a few paces away on the lawn amid the fireflies, the strains of Redbone’s Witch-queen of New Orleans pumping through the outdoor speakers, he sent out drifts of his deep need towards her. She was spinning in the long rosy dress, her chin tilted up and the diamond moon flashing on her neck, his black cardigan falling off one of her shoulders--her hair was tossed by wind and sweat glinted at her temples, and all he could think of was how radiantly lovely she was; High Princess of Heaven, Goddess of the Golden Bower, Angel of the Hidden Sphere, my High Destiny, forevermore, everlong, no worship is ever enough. And now you’re going to marry me. And I know what kind of ring I’m going to give you. A moonstone. My moon, everlasting.

She’ll put a spell on you, she’ll put a spell on you

He tried to contemplate the wonder of everything that had happened in the past two days; of the past few weeks. It’s truly only been a few weeks? It felt like years, and also like no time at all, like hours. He tried to contemplate the immensity of time they’d loved each other, and the smallness of the time they’d been able to love each other in this present--felt too lost in it, had to move his thoughts away. He tried to conjure up the image of the Fates in his mind, knowing now that it was Her, aspects of Her, the spectrum of Her face. Too stoned, sorry. Just wanna fuck my baby. So fucking much. Forgive me, Goddess. He grinned to himself, into his hand. I know you do. I can feel that you forgive me.

Tho' she'll never return all the Cajuns knew, a witch-queen never dies

Kenzie and Rosemary were gripping each other’s arms now, whirling in a circle, both laughing uproariously. Kenzie tumbled to the ground, throwing her head back and laughing up into the sky, bleeding out into blue darkness. Rosemary clutched her belly and laughed up at the sky too.

“Oh Goddess, to be alive,” she crowed. Duncan looked up to her from his seat, grinning. Rosemary had told them the story that afternoon of how she had found the Goddess when she was young--had gone into a cave in the swamps of New Orleans as a young girl, finding a bower of strange golden flowers growing there, had had a vision of Her, as an old woman, wizened with the ages and also inconceivable, told her of her power to conjure and to incite light in others, kindle their dreams and hopes, their destinies. Another Thin Place, he thought, like that balcony, or our circle of oaks. They had made more of the chicken and other vegetables in the cooker, a charcuterie spread out on the deck table, and had been nibbling at it for a hours between the weed and glasses of wine--now the day was hazy and drifting away, and Duncan felt lost in the happiness of it; absolutely found in it. Rosemary tumbled herself into one of the wicker chairs across from him, her feet dipping up over one of the arms. She gazed into the fire, a serene expression in her eyes.

“Evening Star, you sure can make one hell of a fire,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed. “It smells so sweet and feels so nice on my poor aching bones, thank you very much. The Goddess knows I put the work in since yesterday to find y’all, now she’s giving me a break, and Blessed Be.”

“Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you for everything. Thank you for coming all this way--for telling us everything. Who we are. What we’re meant to do.” Kenzie had heaved herself up from the ground and was skipping over to him, throwing herself into his lap and lifting her mouth up to kiss him as he spoke. He cradled her little body against him; her eyes glittered, her thoughts achingly sweet. To be held by you, baby, is the sweetest and most beautiful of anything. My Evening Star. My Hades who I plucked from darkness. You owe me so many kisses.

Oh I do, do I-- He dipped his mouth down onto hers again; he could feel Rosemary’s eyes on them, slitted, an adoration and pride in her aspect that he could feel as though it were visible. He knew she thought they were infinitely beautiful--the thought was a feeling of warm violet that emanated out from her; and I agree, if only because being loved and loving her so much has made me beautiful from within, he thought. I can feel the beauty in everything because of her.

“Rosemary,” and Kenzie turned her face away, looking over at the other woman’s beautiful cocoa skin, shimmering like soft copper in the firelight.

“Yes, golden honey,” Rosemary murmured, turning her face up a little, her eyes closed from tiredness, peaceful in the quiet of the crackling fire.

“What do the thin places mean?”

“Thin places?” Rosemary’s eyes opened a little, meeting her eyes.

“In the woods there’s a clearing. It’s surrounded by these huge black oak trees, and they’re all growing together, in a weird, tight circle. Inside it are so many wildflowers,” Kenzie laid her head on Duncan’s chest, under his chin, “and they’re growing in a spiral, like, I dunno, like they mean something, time or the universe, something like that. We were there yesterday, and…”

Kenzie blushed, trailing off.

“You fucked there.”

“Yeah. And it was strange--I mean, it felt like--Dunny, how would you describe it--”

“Like we were untethered from the earth for a little while,” Duncan said, his hand drifting against Kenzie’s thigh, under her breast, holding her against him, gazing into the fire. “Like we were in some kind of between place. Between this world and another one.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose the Thin Places, as you say, have many names. I call them The Veil, because they aren’t really places as much as doorways, gateways, the between of one place and another. The Goddess has tethered every universe together with threads--energy that passes from one place to another, acting as a bridge--and sometimes the threads wear thin; I suppose Thin Place is a well-suited name. As you are so close to your divinity still, these places are more obvious to you than to other people.”

“The night we met, we were on this balcony, with all these roses, and I think it was one of those places,” Kenzie was murmuring, eyes glittering on him, close to tears again. “It was thin--I could see him, Rosemary. I could see into his soul. I knew how beautiful he was inside. It was like a lamp shining out of a lighthouse. He said hi and he was looking at me like he knew me, like he hadn’t seen me in a long time and had missed me. And my heart just--stopped. I felt like he had set me on fire, wonderful fire, like this.” She looked at the fire Duncan had made--made with my mind, my senses, my will, for you. His heart twinged, reached out for her.

“The heart knows what nothing else can tell you,” Rosemary murmured, her voice growing soft again in her sleepiness. “It was only a matter of time before you found each other again.”

“Sometimes I think I see a golden thread between us,” Duncan said softly.

“The Goddess has tethered you this way. Since you are so close to her--because she loves you both so dearly--you can see the innerworkings of her magicks sometimes. They are not conceivable to human eyes. You’re feeling them. For all her works speak to the inner self, the hidden senses.”

“Rosemary,” Kenzie started again, and then Duncan heard the tears in her voice, cutting her words off. Her face turned into the crook of his arm--he felt her cheek shuddering there.

“Shh, Kenz, it’s okay, Kenzie,” he whispered into her. She nodded.

“Rosemary, thank you.”

But Rosemary didn’t reply--she was sleeping softly now, her chest rising and falling slowly, her hand dipped under her jaw. She was magnificently beautiful in the glossy sheen of the firelight, her dark skin illuminated, her sunset-colored scarf glowing, her obsidian and quartz stones shimmering, feet bare now, and grass-stained; she looks like a painting, Duncan thought, oh that Waterhouse had painted her, Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, who has given us so much joy in so little time. Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you. Now, we’ll let you sleep. I only hope I can give you something in return--and soon. You and everyone who has surrounded us, helped us, comforted us, shielded us.

“Princess Kenzie, let’s go upstairs,” he murmured into her ear. Kenzie’s eyes turned up to him, her mouth dipping open. Her hair fell down behind his arm, a sheet of gold. He felt wildly awake; acutely aware of the softness and the scent of her. He pressed his mouth against her ear. “I want you so much. Take a bath with me, angel. Please?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, a laugh playing at her mouth. “Okay, but I wanna read stories to each other after we fuck. You have to promise we can read stories after.”

“We can read stories for as long as you want, Mrs. Shepherd.”

“What should we do, baby--about everything? We already know what’s going to happen. Rosemary told us. When we go back--”

“Shhh,” and he pressed his mouth, shivering, aching, against hers, intent to worship her, pulling her chin up insistently to reach her, his hands falling against the sweet softness of the dress over her breast. “Tonight, let’s just think about how divine we are, and how lucky we are, and how beautiful the night is, and how beautiful everything is, the stars, the lake, and you--” and she was nodding into him, climbing up to straddle him, the firelight licking its shadows against her hair, over her skin. “And you, baby,” she whispered. “My Evening Star. Goddess, I love that--”

“I’m gonna find you the most beautiful garden house on earth, Princess Kenzie,” he was whispering into her throat, his tongue licking out to the sweet saltiness of her sun-kissed sweat there, and he knew he meant it, knew he wouldn’t stop until he found it, “and together we’re gonna plant the most beautiful garden and so many flowers you can use them for a bed, and I’ll get you as many horses as you want, and I’ll read to you every night, kiss you a thousand times every day in our bed of a hundred of the softest blankets on earth, Kenzie, my golden goddess--”

“I want so many flowers for our wedding, baby,” she was murmuring against his mouth, the supple feeling of her skin driving unbearable waves of heat into his cock now. “I want a hundred dark red roses to hang over our bed between all the wildflowers, flowers in our hair, please, baby, please?”

“Fuck, baby, a thousand flowers, as many as your heart desires, I love you, anything you want, my flower of the universe, my Princess of the Garden of All Delights--fuck, baby, I wanna see it, I wanna see that garden in heaven, where we used to love each other, for eons, Rosemary said, eons--”

Kenzie was laughing against the tickle of his mouth as he groaned into her, standing and gripping her to him under her thighs, his hands finally (fuck, finally, no offense Rosemary) on her bare skin there under the long dress. Kenzie wrapped her arms around his neck and he carried her up to the deck, eagerly turning his chin up to her where her face hovered above him, needy for her kisses.

“I never wanna leave,” Kenzie whispered into him, and he shuddered, pulling her closer, so close the pattering of her heartbeat was flush against his chest, her hair falling against his cheeks. “I wanna run away into the woods with you, into our secret circle of oaks, baby, let’s just stay here and fuck in the field and in the trees and throw away our clothes and worship the Goddess under the starlight until the world ends--”

“But She has shit for us to do, angel, we gotta save the world--” and he was laughing against her as he stumbled with her near the stairs. Kenzie slipped out of his arms (how does she do that) and ran up the stairs away from him before he could grab her wrist--”we gotta save the world, Miss Stone--”

The weed was sweet inside him still, and he thought, The Fates are the Goddess and the Goddess is the Fates, and even if I have darkness in me, so does everything, so does everyone--I know I’ve chosen the light now, and that’s all that matters, I know it was my choice all along--I’ve found my sweet Kenzie, and nothing can fucking hurt me, nothing, nothing can fuck with us, baby--I can’t wait to kiss you with a thousand roses around us and the evening light and the sweet sound of music, slip your moonstone on your little finger and kiss your sweet hands with the tattoo of all my love--

He ran through the bedroom, seeing the little slip of her shoulder, the wave of her hair, the flick of the hem of her long linen dress disappearing through the bathroom door. Kenzie slammed it behind her and he heard the lock click into place. He fell against it, groaning, jiggling the handle to no avail.

“Baby, fuck, ughhh, lemme in, please.”

He could hear her giggling, hear the copper tub’s faucet turn on, its sweet low drift and the sound of her little movements, her tiny laughter kindling a needle of heat into his groin. My angel of heaven. Have mercy.

“I just realized something, Kenzie.”

She fell silent behind the door, as if pausing--for a little while he only heard the faucet running. The bedroom was bathed in low, golden light, and his eyes fell on Cupid’s flower crown in the painting, the tenderness with which he kissed Psyche’s cheek.

“I’ve loved you for thousands of years.”

There was another long pause. He pressed his head against the door, closed his eyes. I have, haven’t I. I really have, When I saw you on the balcony that night, I felt the immensity of time. I knew that it had always been you.

The door opened suddenly and he stumbled through it; Kenzie was throwing her arms around him, making him stumble further, against her this time (oh thank Goddess), and then she was pressing him harshly into the bathroom wall, her hands insistent, demanding. He was leaning down to her, trying to wrap his arms around her, but she pressed them down, her hand drifting to his jaw, clenching there.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you.”

“Yes.”

“You’d die for me.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Would you assassinate someone for me?” She laughed at this, her words hovering between facetiousness and seriousness, and her smile melted at his heart, made him desperate for her.

“If I had to, yes.” Duncan’s answer was serious, and they both knew it; he stared at her, his eyes unwavering, and saw her lips fall from the smile, saw that she could see the ache of him, insatiable, unending, for her.

“Look at the bruises you left on me.”

Kenzie lifted the linen dress up over her head, edging out of his reach as he tried to grip her. He realized she was naked underneath it and heard the tiny reverberation of his moan, following after her. She turned, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and Duncan groaned to see the dark bruises he’d left on her asscheeks, the product of his own hands. He kneeled, aching regret pressing on him, and cupped her at the top of her thighs, drifting his mouth down to the bruises, whispering against her.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry, I love you so much--”

“I love them,” she whispered. “I love the marks you leave on me. I asked for them and I love them and I want more. I don’t care how long we’ve been together in the past, it still only feels like it’s been a few weeks now and I want more. The marks from your hands and your lips, your attention, your love--I want more, more, more--” Kenzie was leaning back into his hands now, against the wet, open dip of his mouth, her hair brushing along his head. She turned and his face hovered right over her cunt--Duncan dragged her against him, opening his lips further, cupping them into the lips of her sex, turning her hips under his hands and pressing her into the wall. Kenzie’s arms drifted above her, up the wall’s incline, hands reaching heavenward, her back arching, leaning into him; Duncan pulled her thigh up so her knee rested against his shoulder, and held his tongue to her shivering clit, eliciting a long, drifting moan from her mouth turned upward.

The scent of her was rich with summery sweat and the salty gathering of her arousal, and it made Duncan feel as though he were drifting out into some ether, unchained from the earth, as if they were back in the black oak circle, between worlds.

“Baby,” she was humming, “how are we gonna know what to do? To change the world? What are we supposed to do with the company? Like--how--unnnh--” her words bled out as he drifted his tongue back and forth between her clit and the opening of her cunt, urgent and concentrated. No more worrying tonight, Kenzie, just be here with me, let me worship you…

“Mmhmm, baby, uhhuh,” she whined, and he knew she’d heard him, felt the bluish drift of his comforting thought. I’ve missed tasting your sweetness here, angel, I wanna build an altar to your sweet cunt alone, its secret places, curves, hidden clefts, the rich singularity of its scent. I’m gonna eat you out every fucking day for the rest of our lives. He pulled his tongue back, pressing his lips around her clit, sucking carefully, strongly, looking up with languid patience to the shadow over her face as her head fell down, her hands drifting from where they had stretched along the wall to his cheeks, his forehead, the curves of his eyelids, through the sides of his hair, and Duncan had to close them now, for fear he would die inside her eyes--that his heart would simply stop with the glorious weight of her (you Kenzie you my universe and I turn around you, I am your moon spinning around your earth, and when we end we begin again, when we die, we are reborn to each other--).

“Fuck, Duncan,” and Kenzie was biting into her lip, eyes falling closed, her body smooth and hot and terribly soft under his long hands, the wetness at his mouth an insistent undoing, the telltale trembling beginning in her thighs, “I think I’m gonna come already, sorry, baby, I can’t, god, that feels so fucking good, you’re too beautiful, annhh--” and he was shaking his head, rebounding his tongue against her, hands clutching at the bruises along her ass, fingers digging against them so she gasped in the half-patina of pleasure and pain--come for me, come as soon as you want to, as much as you want, as constant, for I will worship you always and my devotion will not end, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven, yours is the one true beauty, the gold that you hold in the center of your soul--then, with a pilling satisfaction that urged heat into his groin, he heard the high, lilting sound of her voice crying up in her ecstasy (“Dunny, fu-u-uck-k, my Pri-ince, Evening Star, my fucking baby, unnnnh--”), the sound of the water filling the copper tub crashing against her and drowning out her drawn whimpers, and he thought of Sirens, singing on rocks in the sea, mesmerizing to sailors, causing them to plunge to the depths with desire. My Kenzie, sing to me. Sing your pleasure out for my ears alone.

She quieted, her breath heaving, her legs shaking against him, her cunt twinging--he pressed another long, adoring lick between the lips, shivering with wetness from his mouth and her deep orgasm, then he stood, her hands drifting from his hair to his shoulders to his stomach, his height enveloping her, as it ever was. He brought his arms down around her and Kenzie began to work at his shirt, pushing his pants and briefs to the floor, his mouth, damp with her sex, tasting at hers with lazy need. He lowered his arms, reluctantly, letting his shirt drop to the floor, then swung them down around her shoulders and the back of her thighs, lifting her into his arms. Duncan carried her to the copper tub, the steaming water within almost having reached the rim--he lowered her into it and Kenzie sighed deeply, her eyes fluttering closed in an expression of deep, contented loveliness.

Duncan lifted away from her, turning off the faucet, balancing on the edge of it for a moment, naked; Kenzie’s hair had immediately begun to drift around her, and he thought again of Sirens in the sea, calling out to Odysseus.

“You look like a mermaid, Kenz,” he said, smiling down at her. She grinned, dipping her face under the water, blowing bubbles up to the surface, eyeing him coyly.

“Come, come to me, come to the sea and be drowned, wah-haha,” she laughed.

“By you, gladly.” Duncan stepped over the rim and settled down into the serenely hot water. The tub was quite large--larger than the claw-footed one in the penthouse, large enough that he could stretch his legs out entirely and crook them around her, drawing her into him, his cock, hardening, straining, brushing against the inside of her leg and stomach. She shivered and he moved his mouth down to her cheek, her jaw, pressing tiny kisses there.

“Remember when you put all those roses in the bathtub, baby,” Kenzie was whispering, lifting herself up to him, her nose nuzzling against his. The water felt almost unbearably warm now with her against him this way, and Duncan wanted to cry out against her hair, on her bare, flushed, damp skin. I fucking love you, my love is ever-hungry, ever-urgent, as if it wants to tear me into pieces so I can feed myself to you.

“How could I ever forget that,” he whispered. “You were so fucking beautiful that night. That dress, the half-moon around your neck. I think that’s the first time I knew--really knew--that you were divine.”

“I’m gonna ride you again like that now,” she murmured against his chin, her eyes glowing, and her little slender hand was grasping his cock, now terribly hard in her fingers, easing up and down its thickness with her hips under his fingers, her little tongue dipping out along his lower lip--Kenzie eased herself down onto him, a shuddering, high gasp falling out of her mouth into his, and he cried against her, the pitiful need in his voice ringing in his ears. She moved, slowly at first, then more pressingly, her hands coming up to dampen his hair with water that fell through it in a glistening trail.

“It feels like we woke up from another dream today,” she was whimpering into him, and Duncan was kissing her neck, his mouth tingling with her, lost in the tightness, the clenching, devouring space of her cunt around him, the water’s steam rising around them in droves. “Now we know, baby.”

“That you saved me--” he whined into the dip of her throat now, his voice shuddering as his orgasm inched closer, through his thighs and his groin. “You saved me, angel, you saved my soul from darkness here--that you save me, over and over--you are my miracle, fuck, Kenzie--”

“I am, aren’t I--” she laughed against him, then her laugh bled into a moan as she ground down onto him in the glorious heat of the water, her little hands drifting along his neck, through his curls, her head falling back, and his mouth was around her nipple, sucking with deep hunger, his heart already breaking for the moment he’d have to stop--then he felt himself, eyes blurring with heat and tears, his voice crying wordlessly to heaven (thank you Fates, who are Her), coming harshly up into the golden space of her, the depth of her, the absence of void--she was fullness, truth, reality, the essence of life, she was the beginning and end of all, the solace of his existence. My angel, my miracle, my savior, my Kenzie, for all time.

And for awhile after, they held each other in the blessed quiet and the wonderful heat of the water and the soothing feeling of one another, and he kissed the tiny tears from her eyes, and everything in all of that stretch of moments, small, brief, and somehow also infinite, was sublime.

-------

Kenzie was laying with her face towards the ceiling in the center of the golden bed, the delicate, hanging golden lamp there bowing down on her, kissing at the waves of her chestnut hair. She wore the little silken pink pyjamas and the silk black kimono, gifts from me, I want to shower you with gifts for the rest of our lives, my delight, my sweet love, and one of the downy pillows was propped under her head as she held D’aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths up to her face with her little hands. The other books were in a pile beside her on the silky spread; the ghost story books, Jane Eyre, The Golden Compass and the stargazing book from Duncan’s penthouse library. Duncan was propped up with a pillow on the headboard, facing her, wearing just a pair of black briefs, one of her tiny feet in his large hand; he rubbed it carefully, tenderly, fingers drifting back and forth along its graceful curve, over the rise of her little bones, eyes on her face as she read. The curtain was floating against the wall, and Duncan could smell the fire from the pit downstairs rising up. He wondered if he should go wake Rosemary so she could sleep in one of the guest rooms, but was loathe to move away from the bed, out of Kenzie’s warm sphere. In a little while, he thought. The night is warm and beautiful, besides, as beautiful as last night. It’s like we’re in our own little world here.

“I just love this picture so much,” Kenzie whispered, turning the book to him. The picture was the one of Persephone and Demeter rushing into each other’s arms in a golden field of flowers. “It really makes me think of me and Momby. She’s going to be so happy when we tell her. I keep imagining her face when you call her Momby,” and Kenzie’s grin clenched at his heart.

She turned the book back to herself, resting its edge on her belly, flipping through the pages. Duncan could hear the peepers out on the lake, the drift of the water obscured by them, the low crackle of the fire pit below. Kenzie stopped on a certain page, gazing at it intently, her little mouth pouting, eyes concentrated.

“What’s that page, baby,” Duncan murmured, switching to her other foot, kneading at her toes.

“Selene and Endymion,” she murmured.

“Read it to me?” he asked. I love your voice in the soft night. Singing, speaking, breathing sighs, the gasp of you when you come, the little crying sounds in your sleep.

Kenzie smiled, eyes whirling dark green at him, cleared her throat a little, and read in a clear, measured voice. Journalism major, he thought, brimming with happiness so full it was like a golden cup running over through his body.

“Selene, the moon, came out at night to light up the sky while her brother, Helios, was resting. Slowly she drove her milk-white horses across the sky, and her pale moonbeams fell gently on the sleeping earth where all was peace and quiet.”

Duncan tried to imagine what it must have been like to meet Kenzie for the first time--not on the balcony, he thought, but in that other place, the real first time, after I saw her on her throne, like that dream we had, the throne where she held the sceptre--the Hidden Sphere, the one Rosemary talked about. We met in the Garden, Rosemary said, the Garden of All Delights. Kenzie’s hair, white and shimmering, was full of galaxy-flowers. Her eyes were a golden universe. And her wings were like the vastness of heaven in an unbroken sunset.

“One night Selene’s soft light fell on Endymion, a young shepherd, who was sleeping beside his flock. She stopped to look at him. He was smiling in his sleep and was so young and handsome that she completely lost her heart to him,” and here Kenzie glanced up at Duncan, her face cast in a soft corona of light, her eyes held in the aureate bow of her lashes, and he felt her thought--that’s how I felt when I saw your smile, baby. “She drove through the night, but she could not get him out of her mind.”

Duncan was sliding down over the coverlet to her, his hands drifting up her thighs. Oh you did, did you. She smiled at him nervously, then her eyes fell back to the page and she read again.

“When her duties were over, she went to Zeus and asked him to grant Endymion eternal sleep so he would stay forever young and handsome...Zeus granted Selene’s wish and Endymion slept on and on, smiling in his sleep. He dreamed that he held the moon in his arms. But it was not a dream after all…”

Duncan was pulling her up to him, into his mouth, easily lifting her small weight against him, and the book fell from her fingers to the soft spread and her hair fell back, her eyes fluttering closed against him, the silken feeling of her all too much, and Duncan thought of her as the moon shining against him; as the goddess she once was, of what had felt like a dream, had seemed to be one in the nimbus of sleep, but hadn’t been, her, so wondrously, soul-shakingly real now, in his arms--

No, no. Not a dream after all.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 26 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So I was almost done editing this part in Tumblr earlier today and then my laptop, for some reason, decided to close the window, and of course I hadn’t saved it as a draft, so I lost everything I’d formatted! Including my many meticulous links for this chapter that has about 235453636 details! So, that was great!!! I had to start from scratch and find everything again (thank goddess for Google search history for once), and it took a really fucking long time--your encouraging comments for this part in particular would mean a lot because knowing anyone is actually reading will soften my deep frustration at spending literally my entire day on posting this chapter. I’ve said this before but this fic is primarily about two things: 1) big cosmic fucking love (emphasis on the FUCKING) and 2) CLOTHES, hence me elaborating on their outfits constantly ad nauseam, so if you’re ever wondering why I talk about their clothes so goddamn much, it’s because clothes are very erotic/important to me and they are a big part of the way I tell a story, especially this one. Kenzie manifests Telekinesis in this part. Oberon and Titania are the fabled King and Queen of the Fae, and the lines Duncan and Kenzie speak to each other are from Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. Kenzie sings CRYSTAL to Duncan before they sleep--that song is very important to Duckenzie, and it will probably show up again before the end. Kenzie’s outfit in this part/part of the next: her wrap crop top, her cut-off shorts, her black bikini, her Vans. Other stuff she packs: the rust-colored mini dress, the pink rose mini-dress, the white mini-dress, the white crop top, the denim shortalls, her Timberland boots, her boot sandals, the black dress with the buckle, the gray cardigan, the gray long-sleeved top, the long linen dress with roses. I can’t find the original sunflower-colored maxi dress I based hers on now; it was sort of like this but with short sleeves. Duncan’s outfit in this part: his button-down, his jersey shorts, his Suede Pumas. Other stuff he packs: the navy flannel, the other button-down, the Nike club hoodie, the zip-up hoodie, chino shorts, tee shirts, relaxed chinos, Nike hiking boots, fitted chinos, the feather shirt Kenzie likes, his black swim trunks. My Duncan doesn’t wear jeans, and Kenzie rarely wears pants; that’s just their stylistic preferences. His suitcase, her suitcase, her moon and sun tote. The Yeti coolers look like this and apparently keep stuff cold, like, FOREVER. Here’s the stargazing book, which I have. Duncan’s gold weed pipe looks like this and was inspired by these pictures of Cody smoking a weird vape, and also was inspired by the fact that he’s apparently (sources tell me) a big stoner irl, which I love. Pullman’s The Golden Compass/Northern Lights is indeed about parallel universes, among other things. I had to make them listen to Kiiara’s Gloe, a song that definitely sounds like it’s about Duckenzie, as I mentioned before. The Blue Skies remix is this one by Maya Jane Coles. I’m the bitch who has loved WUTHERING HEIGHTS fiercely since middle school, hence me giving Kenzie that love/a good recollection of it. I love writing their little conversations so fucking much--just my moon babies, in love. The route to Deep Creek Lake really is via a road called Lakeside Trail. The luxury cabin was inspired by two different models, this one for the front, this one for the back. The gazebo looks like this, more or less. The front room looks sort of like this, but with darker wood, no TV, a bigger fireplace (something like this, with dark stone around instead of the white wood), and not as much taxidermy. The Swarovski chandelier is like this. The bed is like this, the headboard like this, the gold laurels, and Annie Swynnerton’s Cupid and Psyche, which, fuck it, I’m saying is the real thing that Annette bought at an auction at some point (now I want a print of that one too, I love it so much, especially the flower crown in Cupid’s hair). The copper bathtub will feature again soon. I looked at this photo of Billie and this one of Cody a lot while I wrote this chapter; that’s my Kenzie and my Duncan. I said this to Luna ( @misslunarayne ) yesterday--but sometimes I get so overwhelmed by how much I love what I’m creating that I legitimately feel like I’m going to pass the fuck out. ART AND LOVE ARE THE DRUG, LADIES/GENTS/NONBINARY FOLKS. As ever, your likes, reblogs, asks, comments and edits mean the world to me. Get ready for ~a lot~ of fucking in the next chapter.

And here at the end of the evening, watching the night lights of the District of Columbia scatter and disperse as Duncan drove them back to the penthouse, Kenzie was full of contentment.

It washed over her like water, like a tide; to be inside this moment with you, Duncan, is like the purest solitude. To be inside your mind as I know you’re in mine, and to feel so much peace inside that certainty. Despite the pressing chaos of the Gala, a chaos that had tried unsuccessfully to disturb them, Kenzie knew that in the future, she’d only retain the joy from this night in her memories: Lindy and Gabby in their floral dresses, tears in Lindy’s eyes, the purity of the happiness Kenzie had felt in Duncan’s arms as the photographers snapped their cameras wildly, the way Duncan had fucked her so passionately, so utterly, his voice dipping into her ear (you are the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt, will ever feel, you’re mine and I’m infinitely blessed) his lips open on her neck, the press of the plug still inside her now, holding him inside her, the look of him leaning next to Day, his face serene, happy, and oh-so-deeply beautiful, the nostalgic joy in his gaze as he had flipped through the mythology book now safely resting on her lap. The dark beauty of him now, the dark shadow shrouding his blue gaze, glancing at her singing, the adoration in his eyes so strong it made her shiver.

“I love you so much,” he said, his tone resolute and aching, then with his mind, I love you so much, I love you, love you, love you forever angel, my angel, divine goddess his thoughts echoed against her, devolving down into blue warmth like a fading fire. “Baby, we finally get to be alone. Really alone. Oh god, I can’t wait. I might never want to come back. Would you come live in the woods with me, wild and free, Princess Kenzie?” Duncan’s gold Cartier bracelet glinted on his elegant wrist as he deftly jerked the steering wheel, his eyes glancing between her and the road, that angelic smile playing at his mouth, dizzying her. As it always will.

“I would, Fae Prince,” Kenzie drifted her fingers along the frayed edges of the mythology book, gazing up at him from the halo of her eyelashes. She felt the waves of his delight at that--the shy approval of his acceptance. The romance of this evening is ours. It exists because it exists between us. That’s all there is--this. Us. And you truly are my Prince.  “Oberon of the fairies.”

“Am I not thy lord, Titania?” Duncan grinned at her, and the blue depth of his eyes flashed darkly, and Kenzie’s breath caught. Oh sweet Goddess, you are. My body is yours and you know it is. My soul clings to yours as though it’s the lifeblood of me. Your soul is mine and the knowledge of you encircles my heart and I’m overcome in its beauty. You are my lord. You are my Hades in your shadowed majesty, my Dionysus in your wanton desire for me, if I am Titania, you are Oberon most assuredly, the moon to my sun, the sun to my moon, the sky that holds the stars of me, and my lord. Always.

“Then I must be thy lady,” Kenzie replied, reaching for his hand--Duncan grasped it with fingers hot and insistent, his thoughts bursting with warmth at her words, pulling them away a moment later as he turned the steering wheel again, onto the side-street where the high-rise was tucked off the main road, in its serene stretch of manicured lawn. The moon was silhouetted in almost the very center of the sky, not quite descending west yet. The G-Class shut off with almost no sound at all--its sleek, streamlined affect seemed almost intelligent, knowing. Kenzie looked up into the sky, gentle moonlight kissing her cheeks as she slid out of the passenger seat, brushing her hair from her shoulders--waves of it had freed themselves from Hannah’s ordered mess of roses and Kenzie watched several petals scatter on the sidewalk around her as her hand fell. She turned to Duncan, who had exited the car, coming up behind her, his hand drifting across the back of her head, down the cascade of her rosy hair. His eyes were on the petals that had fallen to the ground, then he looked at her as she turned to him, her hair still sliding through his fingers, and she could feel the ache of his mind, knew what he was thinking, saw his earnest vulnerability, felt the pounding of his heart, heard the rapid beating of her own.

I want to ask you to marry me, he was thinking. I want to ask you, Kenzie. I want to so much...

Kenzie shook her head a little, her mouth dipping open, her hand coming up to his stubbled cheek--in that hazy ring of moonlight, the stars shrouded by city lights but still almost visible above them, in that cocoon of night, and the rest of the world seemed to be utterly still but for the distant sounds of traffic far off in the distance, the slightness of the summer wind.

Not yet, Duncan. Not yet. Wait until we find out--find out whatever it is. The thing that’s coming. You feel it too. I know you do, as certainly as the dawn, as the moon in the sky right now. It’s almost here. The knowledge--the secret thing.

“Wait,” Kenzie whispered, and Duncan’s hands came down to her cheeks, and he held her there with such a delicate sweetness Kenzie felt herself immediately begin to cry. A tear drifted down from her eye to his thumb, and Duncan brushed it away, his mouth falling open in dismay. She smiled--it’s okay, baby, my sweet Prince, it’s okay. My tears are a relief to me inside your love. It moves me so much, I have to cry. “Just wait a little bit longer. Just a little longer, okay?”

Duncan was nodding, and Kenzie could see the threat of tears on him, too--he drifted his fingers against her for another moment, his face, shrouded in shadow and angelic as a painting on the roof of some holy chapel, leaning down to her, his height enveloping her, filling her with solace. The wind was drifting into his curls, and Kenzie felt utterly moved by what seemed to be on the horizon--she felt lost inside its rising call, the feeling of it suddenly swirling around them like a whirling sphere of gold, the sidewalk deserted, the night so quiet. It was as if they’d suddenly been transported to another universe, imperceptibly, in the hair’s-breadth span of a moment. Everything looked the same, but the air was different, charged with a potency that seemed alien. Because that other universe is always so close, Kenzie thought, her mind hazy with Duncan’s eyes. Isn’t it? That’s true, isn’t it, baby? That other universe, and all of them, hovering nearby.

Then the thought, imperceptible, obtuse--and the feeling--drifted away. Duncan still seemed to be lost inside her mind, in her gaze--she could feel him, rosy and desirous, falling down the curves of her body, the invisible touch of him along the golden gown she still wore, the fingers of his soul at her throat, imagining her in the throes of his passionate attentions. Kenzie shivered, then gently pulled his hand down from her cheek; Duncan dutifully gathered her train over his arm, and they walked down the pathway to the high-rise’s entrance with the moon shining on them, watchful, and its face seemed familiar again, no longer the hidden moon from a moment ago, Kenzie thought, but our moon again, though I know the other moon--those other moons--are always behind this one, aren’t they? Those other moons live beside our moon, and together they echo through time. Tonight there’s a thinness--and in that thinness, there are visible things that will vanish when daylight comes again.

It was well past midnight now, and neither Anchaly or Jerry were anywhere to be seen--a security guard sat in Anchaly’s usual seat at the front desk, and he glanced up at Duncan and Kenzie, then did a nervous double-take. Kenzie smiled at him, yep it’s us, those Instagram stars, then Duncan was pulling her with him into the elevator out of the guard’s eyesight, and she was falling against him, the book and her clutch in her arms pressing into his belly; she could see that Duncan had closed his eyes in the mirror in front of them, and his face was lined with tiredness now, the makeup there no longer able to conceal it. Lost in the feeling of you, my constant comfort, my Kenzie, and Kenzie closed her eyes too, turning her nose into his shirt and breathing deeply, her hands coming up to clutch at the lapels of his jacket, the golden tips of his collar.

“I can’t believe we can finally be alone together, baby,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it. Really alone. I’ve missed the woods so much--and we’ll be together--”

“Wait until you see it, baby,” Duncan said as they walked to the penthouse door. He was tiredly reaching for his wallet, but his hand slipped and he dropped it--Kenzie smiled, dipping down to pick it up, holding her clutch and the mythology book against her chest with her elbows, opening it, loving the feeling of the leather in her fingers (because it’s his, because it belongs to him) as she pulled his keycard out (there were at least ten other cards in it, and at least ten or twelve hundred dollar bills alongside two dozen crisp twenty dollars bills--Kenzie recognized his Black AmEx immediately amid several other American Express cards, scrunched her nose up at his license for a moment, SHEPHERD, DUNCAN MALCOLM, then the penthouse address, SEX M, HGT 5’11”, WGT 160, EYES BLU, DOB 07/06/1988, his solemn expression in it crushing her heart with affection), swiping it through the keypad beside the door. She tucked the keycard back inside the wallet and then, in a moment of abandon, lifted it to her mouth and kissed it. Duncan gave her a look of deep longing, lifting his chin back, eyes closing, biting his lip--then Kenzie reached behind her head, grasping the softness of one of the rose buds there, gently pulled at the petals--two in dark, aching red came out in her fingers, and she opened the side-nook of the wallet, slipping the petals inside.

“Just a memory of tonight,” she murmured, and slid the wallet back into his back pocket, her fingers lingering along the rise of his ass. Duncan dipped and caught her mouth inside his--he pulled the penthouse door open absently as they clung together, refusing to break apart as they stumbled inside, his hand coming down to press at the aching plug (still there, still pressing into me, aching with you now, aching with the length of my supplication to you, holding your release deep inside me). The tiredness in her seemed to dissipate now; she felt his lifting too, lifting in the cadence of his desire rising again. Kenzie noticed several shipping boxes piled by the kitchen island from the haze of his embrace, throwing the book and her clutch down on the obsidian surface, remembering the things she’d ordered for the trip a few days before, then returned to his touch, the feeling of his fingers.

“Bed. Come, baby.” Kenzie broke away from him, not even bothering to unwrap her shoes--you can do it in our bed, beloved. You will undress me. She ran to the bedroom, her train slipping from his fingers, away from him because she knew he’d follow, suddenly intoxicated with their bed’s serene black surface as it came into view--threw herself on it, watching with delight as the golden train of her dress floated out behind her, stretching off the bed in gathers that pilled along the dark wood. She turned from the position on her belly, crooking her knees as Duncan followed her into the room--he was suddenly on top of her, his much larger form enveloping her, pushing her gently down so her back was facing him, his legs on either side of her hips, his crotch pressing gently into her ass--his long fingers were instantly at the concealed zipper along her spine, pressing it down insistently. As he went lower he slid off the bed, hands coming up to begin to ease the sleeves from her arms, pulling her toward him with ease, and Kenzie turned to face him, laying on her back now as Duncan peeled the dress off her breasts. His mouth came down to one of her nipples as it came free, and Kenzie shuddered against him, against his lips, his hands working the dress down now, lips reluctantly pulling away so he could ease the dress from her hips, exposing the delicate panties he’d carefully helped her into again in that quiet powder room. Duncan had the exquisite dress Morgan had created for Kenzie in his hands now--Kenzie went to get up, but Duncan shook his head.

“Don’t, baby. Stay here.” Kenzie lay back, still wearing her golden heels and panties, her eyelids shivering, her breath gasping now in anticipation, rose petals scattered on the sheet behind her head. Duncan disappeared into the walk-in closet for a moment, then reappeared a moment later without her dress. Too beautiful a thing to discard on the floor this time, she knew, and nodded to him, loving his thoughtfulness, his mindfulness. Duncan came up to the edge of the bed, his dark and gold jacket shimmering down at her, his darkly-shadowed eyes roving from her hair scattered on the bed around her to her breasts, her nipples shivering with hardness, then he dipped his (beautiful) hands to the waistband of her panties, pulling them down as he kneeled before her, kneeled before their bed. Your altar, she heard him, and she trembled, her body feeling too hot and too cold at once inside his blue eyes. Duncan.worked at the ties at her ankles with his graceful long hands, kissing the inclines of her feet as he pulled the shoes off, carefully setting them aside. Kenzie glanced over his shoulder, watching the shape of his back, the velvety gold of his blazer, the soft fall of his hair, kneeling before her in the Mirror. My Prince kneels before me, oh, fuck, Goddess--

“Do you want me to undress?” He asked her; and his thoughts were intensely earnest, his mind interested only in her needs, making her think of evening clouds drifting in an indigo sunset. Oh Duncan, you are so beautiful inside. So fucking lovely. I feel selfish to behold this part of you, this hidden wondrous beauty of you, but I can’t help it, I want it all to myself. Beloved, exalted in my eyes. You’re so beautiful to look at, but oh, Goddess, your real beauty is the one the world cannot see, and I am moved by him, that hidden self, body and soul.

“No--” Kenzie gasped as the cool air of the room drifted against the sensitivity of the plug, the hardness of her nipples, and her arms broke out in goosebumps. She moved her thighs apart as his hands pressed insistently up the incline of her legs, felt the lips of her sex spread open for him, the stretch of her asshole around the plug, wet with the residue of his come. “I want you to suck on me, Prince, give your mouth to me with your come held inside my naked body, worship my body that belongs to you--”

“Kenzie, fuck,” he whispered, then Duncan brought his face down close to the open lips of her, laving out his tongue, wet with spit that dripped from his aching mouth, to press insistently to her clit, lingering there as she writhed inside his grasp for a moment, lifting her chin to the ceiling and moaning in a soft, prolonged stream that she knew would drive him insane with longing--then one of his hands was drifting from her thigh to her belly, from her belly to pinch insistently at her breast, twisting her nipple in a hard grip that made her gasp, then drifting up further to her neck, to where she still wore Adelaide’s braided golden ruby, and Duncan pressed his elegant, achingly lovely hand into her there, and gripped her tightly as he sucked, hard and unrelenting, at her clit. Kenzie’s hips bucked up in a keening roll that bled into a steady rhythm, the whining cries from her sent out like entreating prayers to him, and she was murmuring his name, her hands thrown back, palms open at either side of her head, knowing he wanted her to stay still, knowing he wanted to hold her under his mercy in this moment, murmuring to him to try to keep herself from coming already, fuck, not yet, I want you to give me everything, my Prince, I dream of your mouth on me always, your devotions. The pressure of the plug in her ass was sending shocks up her spine with every convulsion of her cunt under his lips and tongue, and his hand at her throat was sweet with constriction.

“Choke me, baby,” she heard herself, whimpering, “Ch-choke me and suck my clit, I’m your angel baby and I n-need you--need you--fuck me with your mouth--”

“Mmmhm,” Duncan’s mouth was buried flush against her, but Kenzie could feel the rolling vibrations of his lips humming against her, and his hand was pressing with measured strength, harder, into her neck, the feeling of his fingers so intense they seemed to burn against her. Kenzie let out a little gasp, and Duncan moved his hand up to the dip of where her jaw began at the top of her throat; with careful insistence he pressed her chin back so her eyes couldn’t see him, were forced to look towards the wall behind them, the empty wall that she’d said they should put something on--for a brief second, Kenzie contemplated this again, wildly--we really should put something on that wall, something beautiful--and then Duncan was raising his head to rest his chin for a moment on her abdomen, still forcing her head back, his other hand coming down to rub at her clit so she’d have no reprieve from his attentions.

“Kenzie, you taste like fucking heaven, baby, like the fucking nectar of heaven, like ambrosia, you taste like wine made from the apples of trees that grow in paradise, I dream about the sweet scent of your cunt now and I wake up in hunger for you, all I want is you, you bless me to let me worship you this way, princess of heaven, my flower of the universe--”

Kenzie was shivering under his hand, her hips trembling, and she tried to move back from his fingers, loathe to come yet, loathe to miss his fingers touching her with such terrible sweetness, and she was murmuring between her gasping, heard herself say “put your fingers in my mouth, baby, make me suck on you too,” and he was nodding, bringing his index and middle fingers up to her wet, shuddering bottom lip, pulling her head back down to look at him, dipping them inside her to press on her tongue for a moment before drifting up so she could close her mouth on him, his other fingers still holding her head back, still keeping her steady, prostrate, and Kenzie sucked desperately at his (those hands, for me alone, let me worship you too, baby) fingers, whimpered into the feeling of his skin, and Duncan was burying his mouth against her again, his tongue gentle now, but no less insistent, dipping against her until she keened once more, keened against his arm pressed along her body between her breasts, holding her down for him, you like keeping me here, don’t you, baby, she drifted against him, you like holding me down, making me writhe for you, my angelic love--

“Fuck, yes,” Duncan’s reply was spoken aloud, and Kenzie knew he wanted to speak his longing into her, not just press his love to her sex, but speak it into the room, fill every corner with it. “I do, baby, I fucking do, I love you all to myself this way,” and he was licking along the curve of the lips of her sex, down to the dip of skin before the plug pushed snugly inside her, “Unng, baby, fuck, you taste so good--wait till we’re in the woods, I’m gonna fuck you every hour, fuck you until we’re so exhausted we have to sleep all day, and then we’ll wake up and fuck again, I’ll worship you again and again, into the night, under the stars, all through the day until the sun is dipping low in the sky--” he was dipping his fingers in and out of the wetness of her mouth now, making her moan with the sensation of being filled so with his lips and his fingers and the plug, still sending its shockwaves through her back every time Duncan made her cunt twinge; the space between her convulsions was becoming smaller and smaller, and she was beginning to see golden bursts of need in the corners of her vision, bearing down on her--Duncan seemed to sense how close she was treading to her orgasm, and he continued to speak against her between his admonitions, dipping his tongue into the shuddering twinge of her vulva, then long and languid at her clit, then speaking the sweet, ardent poem into her, his breath so shivering-soft, brushing down onto the wetness gathering strongly between her legs, her arousal and his saliva mingling irrevocably--Duncan brought his hand away from her mouth to grasp her under both thighs, hitching her knees over his shoulders so she was lifted up utterly, into his face, his eyes closing in the throes of his ardency, shrouding them in the dark eyeshadow still on him, reminding her of some holy fresco painted dark, a pious congregant in ecstatic worship, an achingly lovely visage of a damned soul finally redeemed. I love your eyelashes, your sweet eyelids, the incline of your cheeks, your mouth, fu-fuck, your beautiful fucking mouth, Duncan, how--how are you mine--

“You’re my angel, you’re fucking heaven to me--you’re a fucking goddess, even now you’re dipped in gold, the gold is you, it’s you, only you, exalted, beloved, entire, my only--” Duncan brought his fingers down, pressing them into the plug, pulling gently at it so she cried out at the smooth pressure of the bulb against the opening of her there as he flushed his mouth onto the bud of her again, “--So fucking beautiful I never want to look away from you, Kenzie--so fucking beautiful you fill all of my senses and time means nothing against you--nothing, uhhh, fuck, Kenzie--my fucking beautiful angel, god, I fucking love your body, I want to hold it forever--my Princess, sweetest golden honey, my moonlight, come for me, come for me, come against my lips, come into me--” and he was lifting his mouth away, bringing the hand that had toyed with the plug up, raising a flat palm to give her a little testing slap along the spread lips of her sex--Kenzie whined and bucked up into the air, her knees over his shoulders, his mouth hovering near her, smiling that smile beyond the beauty of her imagining, and she was whimpering again, and now she was begging, “Fuck, baby, please, do it again, I’m so close,” and Duncan’s face went slack with adoration, a little moan escaping him too to see her beg, to hear the sweetness of it, she knew--

Then he brought his palm down more harshly, the sound of it snapping into the wetness between her legs as he slapped her clit with a concentrated, sharp pressure, and Kenzie cried out, her eyes closing with an involuntary, ragged intake of breath--the coil of her orgasm was making her thighs begin to shake uncontrollably now, and she knew Duncan could see it in her eyes, see that she was about to let go for him, and he yanked her across the black sheet to the edge of the bed, so she was intently against him, as close as he could possibly clutch her to his open mouth, bringing both hands down to her face, one grasping at her neck again, against the cool gold of the necklace, oh god, Adelaide, if you could see where your necklace is now, Kenzie thought wildly, under the hot fingers of your grandson fucking the life out of me with his tongue, his other hand dipping around the space under her ear, his thumb probing into her mouth again, dipping harshly into the crook of it, forcing her lips open to him, wanting my mouth open to him, she knew, could feel his desire like an intense bluish flood, felt his thumb move down to her bottom lip and press it open, could feel the satisfaction in him when her moan needled up.

He leaned back from her cunt just long enough to spit a rivulet of saliva down onto her clit, then he pressed his tongue there again and she was dazzled with bursts of glittering anticipation, down from her mind into her body to her thighs, and Kenzie whimpered into his fingers, a whimper that became a wailing convulsion--Duncan did not ease his mouth, rather rebounded onto her as the plug tormented at her, pressing into her as her thighs shook, the shiver moving down her legs and down through the center of her abdomen, coursing out in tendrils of white-hot pleasure from his mouth’s avid attention.

Kenzie’s chin lifted back as she came now, her voice pressing out an sobbing cry that rattled every corner of her mind--she felt Duncan’s hands press more harshly into her mouth, harder into her neck, bringing dips of darkness into her vision, could feel the shuddering of her cunt under his mouth, the reverberations of the plug, and tears were coursing down her cheeks in an instant--she was crying in earnest now, but unlike the tears from earlier tonight, prompted by the terrible hate in Bill Shepherd’s agonized eyes and her own rebounded sadness toward the people who had surrounded Duncan for so much of his life, these tears were ecstatic, astounded at the fullness she felt inside this moment with him, utterly shaken by the feeling drifting out of him in surges that felt like a kiss on every inch of her.

Duncan heard her sobs now, she knew, because he’d lifted his eyes up to her from his pressing diligence between her legs--he lifted his mouth away as she came down from the edge, and his arms were lifting her limp, spent body into him now, sliding up onto the bed as he held her so his knees were against the black sheet, sliding her naked body up to the pillow to set her head gently against it, scattering rose petals as he did from her hair now coming undone, his mouth, wet with her sex, coming to kiss along her cheek and jaw. His arms were caressing at her, up and down her waist, along the dips of her breasts and against her neck, but with aching gentleness now, and Kenzie felt like she was on fire with his touch, could barely catch her breath with her tears. She grasped at his velvet jacket, her hands trailing at the gold collar, lifting up to his hair, to his cheek with its sweet stubble, and her tears were terribly hot and their salt fell between her lips, a relief inside the depth of her love for him in that moment.

“Shhhh, baby, shhhhh--” and Duncan was hovering over her, hands coming up to her hair and her cheek, soothing over her there, his elbows crooked on either side of her body, his much larger one enveloping her with his dark velvets and silky shirt, the heavy heat of him, the overwhelming musky-sandalwood-woods scent of him, his desire and his love, the scent of her sex lingering near her cheek now from his mouth as he kissed along her skin, making her sigh and shake, drying her tears. “I love you, Kenzie, baby, I love you--” and she could feel his thoughts, knew that he could sense her relief, the depth of the calmness settling into her now, sense how good (so fucking good baby fucking fuck I love you too Duncan I love you) he had made her feel, and she could feel him smiling into her cheek, feel his joy at her joy and her peace, and she wished this moment could extend, on and on, its perfection shaking her heart.

“It is perfect, isn’t it,” he whispered against her, and she could feel the tininess of his eyelashes as his eyes closed against her, and she felt close to her tears again, had to scrunch her face so they wouldn’t begin anew, and Duncan was saying “oh, Kenzie, oh, baby, if you want to cry, it’s okay--” and she was pressing her arms around the back of his hair, pulling him down against her so she fell into the space of his arms with his head beside her on the pillow, pressed her wet cheek against his heart, tucking her arms down between them against her mouth, bringing her legs together, shivering at the sensitivity of her sex, the deep moisture there from her release and his mouth. His cheek pressed into the crown of her hair, his fingers tangling in the roses that were drifting apart in the chestnut waves scattered behind her. Kenzie sighed again--a deep, shuddering sigh, a sigh that she knew was pushing away everything from the past two days, pushing it away from him too, insisting that now, beginning now, starting now, under this moon, like the all-knowing eye of some resplendent white goddess, and away from the other, prying eyes of everyone and everything, they’d worship each other in earnest, get lost--it’s time to get lost in each other, my dearest love. The days to come belong to us and us alone.

“Wait till you see it,” he was whispering into her hair. “Fuck, baby, I’m never going to want to leave, I know it already--even imagining being with you there feels like--like a beautiful dream. We’ll light a bonfire, we’ll bring the big blanket out under the summer sky, there’s this patch a quarter of a mile from the cabin, the trees part and the sky is totally spread out, and you can see everything at night--” Kenzie felt herself calming, let herself float inside the sound of his voice--the penthouse was blessedly quiet, any sounds from the world outside hushed, 30 stories down, far away. This is the only thing I want in the world right now, she knew, just to be here with you, the memory of your mouth still lingering on me, your hands in my hair, the jasmine-cedar scent of you, the beating of your heart against me.

“There are so many goldenrods in the summer, too, and last time there were all these wild orchids--Annette and Bill had this weekend retreat with all these Congress members, god, it was awful--but--one evening I escaped from everyone and went off in the woods alone and the light was falling so sweetly on them, everything was bathed in soft gold and deep blue, and I think I hoped for you that night, Kenzie, I think I longed for you, even though I didn’t know it was you I was thinking of, I didn’t know it was you I was missing so terribly, but it was, wasn’t it? It was you all along...it’s always been you. I know that now.”

Kenzie lifted her chin up from where it had been pressed against him, and Duncan brought his mouth down onto her, and their kiss was dream-soft and so earnest from him it almost pained her, his mind aching against her--she could feel the slight weight of his cock on her leg through where the pants still constricted him, knowing he was hovering around his arousal again, but also feeling the depth of his tiredness, the sincerity of his emotion inside the memory of his loneliness. He leaned away, the blue of his eyes so bright they didn’t seem real, then he pushed himself up, hand drifting down to her hip, looking down at her, his elbow crooked so his face hovered over her.

“I’m starving, baby,” Kenzie murmured up to him, sleepiness tinging her voice, her hands drifting at his velvet arms. The pillow was so soft under her head, his fingers so soothing on her skin--her eyes closed for a moment as Kenzie surrendered to the wave of tiredness that washed over her. Your touch is home. It’s the highest of all pleasures, the most soothing thing I’ve ever felt. Your touch.

“Okay, baby, hang on--don’t fall asleep yet,” and she felt Duncan kiss her cheek, his lips drifting down to press more along her skin, two kisses, three, four--then he lifted away from her and she opened her eyes, turning to watch his velvet back retreat, his hand drifting through the back of his hair--he glanced back at her, eyes adoring, and she smiled, bringing her hands down to drift between her legs, I can still feel your mouth there, and he grinned shyly (still shy of me, I can’t believe it), disappearing through the doorway.

A moment later she heard him call to her from the kitchen, his voice amused and curious. “Baby, what’s in all these boxes?” She could hear the small sounds of him moving around there, but not their precision--she waited for a moment, still floating inside her post-orgasm, not answering. Duncan reappeared after a few more beats, having removed his shoes and blazer now, a black bowl in one hand and a Waterford glass in the other. He slid onto the bed again, holding the glass down to her. Kenzie propped herself up against the headboard, clutching it in two hands and drinking greedily. The water was wonderfully cold and clear, and it brushed some of the sleepiness from her mind. She sat up more, feeling the plug pressing into her as her ass brushed along the sheets; she shivered out a little moan, and could see the desire flit across Duncan’s gaze again. She smiled at him and leaned over to set the glass on his nightstand; he passed her the bowl now, hand dipping down to her thigh. It had another bunch of the crimson grapes they’d been eating earlier (The Youth of Bacchus, Kenzie thought, fighting the urge to run to the study to look at it right now, thrilled with knowledge that she could if she wanted to, for it hung there), a handful of raw almonds, and a long bar of very dark chocolate in six segments that looked almost black in the low bedroom light.

“Ooo, baby,” and she was squealing with delight at the chocolate, reaching for it with insistent fingers, crossing her legs under her against the sheet. She broke a piece off and lifted it up to his mouth--Duncan’s teeth snatched it out of her fingers and Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh--being with you. She leaned up to kiss him, the sweet, dark taste of the chocolate mingling in their mouths. Being with you is heaven.

“What’s in all those boxes?” Duncan asked again, reaching for some of the grapes, popping them in his mouth, then reaching up to his collar and beginning to unbutton it. He pulled the hem of the shirt out of his belt, easing it off his arms, then worked at the buckle as his eyes drifted over her nakedness--Kenzie felt shy under his gaze, wondering again if that feeling would ever fade. Caught in the eyes of this beautiful boy--truly beautiful, a face that a sculptor would die to render, Michael the Archangel, David trapped in stone, fairest Adonis. And he kneels to me. Kneels and worships ME.

“Stuff I ordered for our trip,” she replied, breaking off more chocolate, twining golden strands of hair around her finger, recalling. “Ghost stories--” she wiggled her fingers at him and he laughed, “--and some quilts and blankets for our bed--I want it to be extra cozy--and for stargazing, a fireside cooking kit--we can make tinfoil dinners, those are so fun--and, well, a bunch of clothes--” and she grinned at him, loving the way his face immediately went soft with the prospect, enthralled with the mere mention of such a thing. Baby, she thought, you get to watch me get dressed every day now, every fucking day, you care stare as much as you want.

“--including these tiny little cutoff shorts, and a little black bikini,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper as she spoke, letting her mouth hang open at the end, her eyes teasing him.

“Fuck,” Duncan leaned in to kiss her, and as he did he bit gently at her bottom lip, sucking for a moment and then releasing her--and then he was dropping his belt on the floor to the side of the bed, bringing his legs over it to ease the pants off, then his socks, then his briefs, discarding them all in a heap, freeing his partially-hard cock. He looked over at her, reached for the chocolate in her hand, fingers drifting down her skin, then breaking another piece off and dipping it into his mouth (your lips, baby). Then he rose with a teasing glance of his own to her, and went into the bathroom--Kenzie admired his ass as he did, blushing a little into her chocolate. Round and smooth. I wanna bite it. She heard the water running, and set the remainder of the chocolate in the bowl, sliding off the bed, wincing a little at the soreness of the plug still inside her.

Kenzie stepped into the bathroom; Duncan was washing his face, and she glanced down, watching the dark makeup swirl down the drain. The Gala really is finally over. I’m so relieved, honestly. Now it feels like I can breathe again. Like we can breathe. This revelation from Annette may have actually been a blessing in disguise. Time to run away with you for awhile, my love. Duncan was patting his face dry with a towel, then he turned to her as she came up beside him, leaning on the sink. She knew he could hear her. Can you take my plug out now, please, Prince?

“I’ll take it out now. Lean down a little, baby.”

Kenzie nodded, and leaned over the basin, moving her feet apart so her thighs were spread slightly. Duncan unscrewed the top of the coconut oil on the counter and dipped his fingers into it--then he stepped behind her and eased the fingers around the jewel at her backside. Kenzie breathed in, slowly.

“Press out, baby.” Kenzie did as he said, and winced a little again, but only a little--the oil had soothed the sting of the chafing there, and the plug popped out of her a moment later. Duncan brought it over the sink and turned the hot water on over it again--Kenzie watched him rinse it with soapy, gentle hands as she pulled the pack of wet wipes from one of the drawers under the sink, easing one of them along the dip between her ass. It came away with a little blood again, but just a little--it’s worth it, honestly, because fuck, you fucked me so fucking good, baby, fucked me hard and ate me out so fucking good, fuck. He glanced over at her as he turned the faucet off, having finished washing her plug--she saw the glint in his eyes, the indication that he’d heard her thoughts, the knowledge of her lust. Duncan set the plug on the counter, and then he pulled her achingly against him, pressing his nakedness into her, lifting her up into an open-mouthed kiss. The roses were still falling from her hair around their feet--Duncan set her back down to earth and turned her gently, and then his beautiful fingers began to work the roses out of her hair, setting them gently one by one on the bathroom counter. Kenzie glanced over to the mirror to watch him as she reached for her toothbrush; my Prince, your gentleness amazes me still. She knew she would remember this moment, crystallized, in the future. Your hands in my hair, the roses falling through your fingers, the blue of your eyes, the drift of your thoughts to me, so soft, so devoted.

Kenzie, he was thinking, I’ll put flowers in your hair in the forest, scatter flowers on our bed, flowers in your arms, we’ll lay in them and forget the world, they’ll weave flowers in your hair on our wedding day, I know it already as if I can see through a window, I can see the halo of your head and a crown of dark roses there, my Persephone, a dream of the future yet I know it’s real, how I long to ask you, to speak it into existence…

Duncan untwined the last of the rosebuds and Kenzie turned to him, lifting her chin to his face, but not kissing him, not quite--she hovered her lips achingly near to his, and heard the quiet, longing sound that drifted out of him against her, his face now free of the dark makeup he’d worn all night, and still so stunningly, completely beautiful, and yet you long for me, she thought, her skin wildly sensitive under his touch, you worship me, little old Mackenzie Stone.

“You aren’t little, Kenzie. I mean...you are little. I love how little you are, I love how close I can hold you--” and here his hands drifted down to Kenzie’s ass, cupping her there, pressing her sensitive sex up into him, his mouth hovering at her chin, “but baby, you aren’t little. You’re so bright--like the sun. Your vastness...it fucking staggers me. It’s like you have a universe inside you, and it’s beautiful beyond all description.You’re so divine--so strong, so brave, so kindhearted and so bright, like golden starlight--”

“Fuck, Duncan, the way you talk to me--”

“Just my entreating prayers to a goddess,” he whispered, lips finally falling under her ear. “Just my endless hope for her blessing.”

“Come to bed with me, hold me, sleep with me, fair Oberon, and in the morning, let’s fuck off into the forest and never come back,” and Kenzie was smiling against the overwhelmingly sweet sensation of his lips, and she felt him smile too and then laugh against her, a laugh that was so desperately joyful that she felt lost inside it for a moment, as though he were Eros and the sound of his laughter was the sound of desire itself. Purest joy. My love, that I can bring you this, that you have given yourself to me this way--it moves my soul utterly, it is the highest of all things, to be loved, to love you. She laughed too, a heartfelt laugh that threatened to dissolve into tears in her throat, and Duncan was kissing her mouth with soft, sweet pecking kisses, and she knew he felt the mingling fall of her emotion, the deluge in her. His hands came around her neck, unclasping Adelaide’s golden necklace, setting it on the sink beside her roses, and Kenzie was moved by the sight, by its shivering, quiet beauty--one is the city, the other the forest, and tomorrow we’ll retreat into nature and find its secrets, she thought. She shivered, and then Duncan was pulling her to the bed, shutting the lights off as he did, easing her down against into the sheets with his (clouded sky) eyes full of tenderness, setting the bowl with the chocolate and grapes aside (later my love, all things later, now, only you, only me, only sleep and our dreams of those other places, only the moon and us) and she was gathered inside his arms, her cheek at his heart again, his sex pressed into her belly, their legs irrevocably twined.

“Kenzie,” he murmured, and she was moved to be in the sudden darkness, in the feeling of him, “Will you sing to me? I love your voice so much.  Just a little, baby, please?”

Kenzie sighed against him. “Oh, baby. Of course I will.” She heard the thought he didn’t say aloud, the shyness in it: a lullaby. My sweet Duncan. My beloved. I will soothe you as you know only I can. She was quiet for a moment, in the stillness, in the shadows, in his arms. Then she knew what she wanted to sing to him; knew it as certainly as her love for him.

“Do you always trust your first initial feeling, special knowledge...holds true…bears believing…” And Kenzie felt him bury his face against the softness of her hair, his deep sigh of contentment, his love bursting into her, “I turned around, and the water...was closing...all around, like a glove, like the love, that had finally, finally found me...and I knew...in the crystalline knowledge of you…”

And then they were dreaming, untethered from earth, together; under the face of another moon, this one much larger than the one they’d left, and lit with a glow that was utterly not of their world.

--------

The light was sweet and low as Kenzie drifted up, back to reality. It’s very early, she knew. She let her eyes linger closed for a moment, trying to recall the dream she’d surfaced from this time; it certainly wasn’t a bad dream, not like our nightmares, she knew. In this one she’d been wearing a very long black velvet gown with a very tight bodice that had exposed her throat to the dip of her breasts--it had pilled around her in huge folds, had drifted behind her as she walked--she remembered with a rush that the Mirror was in the dream, its embellished gold frame distinct, its vastness obvious. I saw myself in it, and I looked beautiful, but I looked--I looked like myself but not like myself. I wore dark jewels on my throat, and...there was this power in my eyes, I could see it reflected in the Mirror. Duncan was with me, but he was wearing something...something from another time period. He wore...breeches, I think that’s what they’re called, and long boots. His hair was longer--it fell to his shoulders in beautiful waves, but it was the same color it is now, like russet autumn leaves, not like the terrible, dark man I dreamt with his face, and not like that other Duncan, the one who had nebulas for eyes, with wings I didn’t understand the shape of. He was kissing my neck--he was wearing a flowing white shirt and he was taking it off, we were in a room with a huge four-poster bed, an opulent room, like we were in Versailles or something, the fireplace was lit and the light was low and we were full of nervous excitement, full of desire…

Here her recollection of the dream ended and she opened her eyes, sighing a little. The Mirror. The Mirror was there. Our Mirror. My Mirror...the one I know belongs to me somehow. It had something to do with that...with me knowing that. Duncan stirred a little against her--his arms had moved in sleep and one of them, she realized, was clutched at the dip of her ass--the other was against her hand between their pillows, his pinky and ring finger hooked around hers, their Cartier bracelets hovering near each other--the diamonds of Kenzie’s caught the early light, glinting into her sleep-touched eyes. Duncan’s stubbled jaw turned up in his sleep, his mouth opening a little, then closing, the small movement of his throat sending a shiver up her bare spine. My beautiful baby. His hand at her ass moved up to the small of her back--drew her in closer in his sleep, her hip bone pressing against his, his hardness (always), sending a little gasp of sensation out from her as it lifted into the space between her legs.

Kenzie hesitated for a moment, longing for his eyes to open, longing for his mouth to fall on hers, longing for the feeling of him probing into her mind--I feel lonely without him there now, I can’t help it--longing for the feeling of his beautifully thick, hard cock to be inside her, but she knew they had a long drive today--the sooner they left the penthouse and got on the road, the sooner they could be in the wonderful solitude of the woods, be at the lake. Alone together. Not like our day at the beach--which was so wonderful, but so brief--really alone together, for days, and free to explore the secrets of each other and the joy of nature. Fuck, I can’t wait.

It had been almost a year since the last time Kenzie was in the woods--she and Claire had gone with some of her old Georgetown friends to a nearby campgrounds and stayed for two nights during the muggiest stretch of August. It had been terribly hot, but the evenings had been so tranquil and lovely and the sunsets so beautiful, and she’d been so happy to be with Claire, and the memory was a good one--they’d shared a tent and eaten burnt hot dogs and canned baked beans and s’mores, got eaten alive by mosquitoes, and laughed with each other a lot, over everything, as they always did. My Clairebear. I wonder how your date with Harris went, and Kenzie smiled, thoughts drifting from Claire back to Duncan, her gaze roving over the man (almost more than a man sometimes, to me, like an angel, his soul having opened to me this way) she loved more than she ever thought possible--more than she would have thought herself, or anyone, capable of. She pushed back the feeling of tears, which always seemed to be hovering near now, and eased herself out of his embrace. Duncan stirred again, dipping his head down, his hand coming under his cheek--and he sighed in his sleep, then descended back into silent, slow breaths. Just sleep a little longer, my loveliest love, she sent out to him, her thoughts lined in gold. Sleep until your tiredness melts away--then we’ll leave.

Kenzie eased off the bed, glancing at the roses she’d tied above it, her eyes sliding to the Mirror (you were in my dream, beautiful thing--maybe our dream, if he dreamed too), examining her nakedness, moving to the bathroom. She gazed affectionately at her Golden Pothos on the back of the toilet as she sat to pee, wincing as she wiped herself--my poor asshole, she thought with an inner laugh, sorry sweetie, you’re gonna need to suck it up and get used to a big cock inside you. She snorted, giggling at her own thoughts, reaching for her hairbrush, coaxing the tangles out of her hair as she looked at the necklace and roses scattered on the sink affectionately. Kenzie set the brush down, grasping the necklace and moving to the closet, eyes watching Duncan in his quiet repose, hair tossed over his forehead; Eros sleeps. It was barely past 7, but she felt wide awake now, the stresses of the Gala--the chaotic energy of the press and photographers towards them, Marissa Montague’s tantrum, Bill Shepherd hissing into her face, his skin gray, his breath sour with sickness, the overwhelming sadness that had driven her to run blindly through a back hallway until she had reached that room that she knew had once belonged to Duncan--seeming far away already. She neatly set the necklace along the stretch of dark wood shelf where she now kept her jewelry in the huge closet--she admired it for a moment, the sheen of its gold and diamonds, fingers drifting over it, the perfect roundness of the ruby--then Kenzie reached for the Tiffany moon and clasped it around her neck. The first thing he ever brought me as a gift--like he was bringing me an offering on an altar. And my offering to him was the meal that I made for us--and he was so happy to receive it. I knew he was. I know he’s happy, truly happy, to receive whatever I give him. Because he loves me. Fuck, he truly does.

Kenzie turned, noticing Duncan had hung her golden gown from last night on a long wood hanger in the corner, so it faced the doorway. Its train drifted in a gathered pile on the floor, and Kenzie was struck by its loveliness again--a dress for a goddess. I wonder how all those pictures turned out, she wondered. I felt so lost in that happiness with him in those moments, it’s like for a little while I lost track of everything that was going on around us. But no. I’m not going to look. In fact, I’d like to not look at my phone at all while we’re away. I’ll bring it with me, but I think I’m going to just turn it off. Kenzie went out through the living room, still naked but for the moon necklace and the Cartier bracelet (which I’ll never take off, only he can take it off me) now; the penthouse was cool and she liked the chilliness on her skin, knowing it would be another hot June day. She moved to the obsidian island--it was clean of all residue of the food that had been spread there the evening before by Erik, Hannah and Georgio, the hands of the still-unseen-to-her housekeepers having whisked it away. I need to meet them and thank them for all the work they do to clean this penthouse, Kenzie thought, feeling guilty. They clean this space so beautifully. They deserve my thanks at the very least. I know Duncan is used to living this way, but I’m not--I’m used to cleaning up after myself. This world is still so strange to me.

She slid her golden clutch from last night off the island, snapping it open, glancing for a moment at her phone--a text from Mom, confirming Samuel had dropped her off safely, wishing them a wonderful time at the cabin, and an alert for an email from Candice, who’d confirmed Kenzie’s requests for PTO while they were away. Kenzie felt strange again, drifting in the knowledge that she’d never really need to worry about money again--god, since when? She wondered. She remembered living on ramen and oranges while she was at Georgetown, loathe to ask Momby for money; thought affectionately, nostalgically, of her tiny apartment, now empty of her things, empty of her life, which was here now, with Duncan. And now I’m wearing diamonds, and ordering hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothes with my boyfriend’s card like it’s nothing. She tucked her left foot behind her right heel, absently toeing a fourth position, the old habit of her ballet classes hovering in her subconscious as she wallowed in the feeling. Then, she remembered the longing look of happiness in his eyes when she had mentioned it last night--he loves to buy me things, he loves my clothes. He gave me that card because he loves to give me things. He loves me. He loves me so much. How does he love me so much. I’m the luckiest girl in the world. I’m going to just be happy--just be happy and enjoy this right now. 

Kenzie shut her phone off, then knelt down to where the boxes were piled, sifting through them until she found the ones with Free People shipping labels. Glee fell down through her as she opened them--every day since they met, the way Duncan would stare at her getting dressed sent wild, nervous, anticipatory energy through her body. She thought of him looking at her in these lovely things, these lovely pieces of clothing she’d so carefully chosen to make herself feel beautiful, to make herself feel like the best version of herself she could be, the happiest, the kindest, the most open--the self she knew she had in her, had sometimes been before she met him and was still, the self she would always be, but now even greater than before. If anything, he makes me more myself, she knew. He makes me braver, fills my heart with courage. With him I feel like I can do anything. I feel like I can be the person I’ve always known I could be, deep down. Now, I can be her, that best self, because he’s here, and I was waiting for him. I was waiting for my partner, the person I could share everything with--all of me. I was waiting for my love, for the love that would kindle my heart to the highest emotions, and bring me to life. When Duncan said he longed for me that evening in the woods when he was alone, I knew he meant it. And now I know I longed for him too--in the dark of my quiet bed alone at night, those nights after Tyler and I broke up and I was so fucking lonely sometimes I’d cry myself to sleep in the shadows, it was Duncan I ached for, and now I know that. It was him, and now I feel like sometimes I almost perceived the shape of him inside that loneliness, saw the outline of his face, his hair, his hands. Knew that he was out there somewhere, in the world, looking for me too. And I found him, oh, Goddess. I found him. Thank you, Fates. Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. You weaved us together, tied us with a golden string that cannot be broken. You brought us together again. The wheel turned for us. I’m grateful.

Kenzie pulled a pair of classic black Vans with white laces from one of the boxes, alongside the aforementioned tiny cut off shorts and little black bikini--she also pulled out a golden-yellow lacy cropped top with long blouse sleeves and a v-neck that plunged low, a tie at the front. Kenzie gathered her outfit choices and moved to the bathroom again, slipping into the shower and turning the knob--she used a tie she’d left on the toiletry rack at some point to hold her tawny hair back, and lathered Duncan’s jasmine soap over her body, over the sensitivity between her ass cheeks, along the lips of her cunt, thinking of his mouth there. The way you eat me out, fuck, baby, it’s like--fucking nirvana. I feel your worship in every bit of my body when you do that. Then Kenzie stepped out of the shower, letting her hair fall down again, slipping into the little bikini, which hugged her small breasts flatteringly, then wrapped the gold-sunflower crop top around her body, the cut-offs over her thighs. She glanced at herself in the bathroom’s oval mirror, the wide glow of her eyes, the fall of her hair, brushed to soft waves, the moon at her neck, the incline of her thighs below the little shorts and the dip of her bare waist between--go wake your baby up with your cute ass, girl.

Kenzie went to the bed softly, smiling against her fist--Duncan hadn’t moved from the same position, his head dipping down into his hand on the pillow, his expression achingly angelic. She slid down to him, lifting her leg around him so she was straddling him across his torso, pushing him gently so he was on his back--Duncan stirred, moaning a little, reaching for her, and then his hands fell on the softness of her blouse then to the smoothness of her stomach, the dip of her ass in the little shorts, and his eyes drifted open, their depth instantly intrigued.

“Good morning, Prince Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, shaking her hair around her shoulders, fingers coming up to brush along the Tiffany moon, so he would see she was wearing it. “Are you ready to fuck off into the woods with your baby?”

“Mmmh, Kenzie, angel--” Duncan was blinking the sleep away from his eyes now, gripping her tighter, sliding himself up so he was against the headboard, pulling her against his naked lap, his hard cock coming up between them, pressing inside her spread thighs, against the crotch of the denim cut offs, his lips falling to the space beside her mouth and drifting back to her ear. Kenzie couldn’t stop the tiny moan that fell out of her at the insistence of his mouth and his arms, suddenly--god, you smell so good, baby, you smell like desire.

“Unng, you look so fucking cute,” he was murmuring against her, lifting away from his hot kisses on her skin, his (finally open, oh fuck, goddess, open and full of so much need like a blue sky over an ocean of impossible depth) eyes roving over her, the shape of her in the crop top and the tiny shorts, the moon at her throat, the fall of her hair. “You’re my Princess, Kenzie, aren’t you? Fuck, kiss me, Princess--” Kenzie grinned at him and gripped his stubbled jaw, nipping hot kisses along his bottom lip, one of his hands burying itself inside her hair at the back of her skull, holding her steady to him, the other drifting into the back of her shorts against her ass, his Cartier bracelet cool on her skin--his hands felt the smooth fabric of her bikini bottoms and he let out another low moan into her mouth.

“I’m wearing my new little black bikini under this,” Kenzie smiled into him.

“Mmh, Kenzie, fuck, baby--babylove--” Kenzie could feel the straining in his mind, drifting against her, the thought he was hesitating to speak out loud. I need your mouth on my cock, baby, my poor cock is so fucking hard for you, hard like last night, it hurts, it needs you, I fucking need you--

“You want me to suck your big cock, huh, Prince Duncan?” Kenzie moved her hips as she spoke into his mouth, lifted herself so she ground against him, the denim shifting against his length. Duncan let out a pitiful moan, his eyes wincing closed in an achingly lovely supplication to her.

“Please,” he whispered into her “Please, Princess Kenzie. I’ll do anything. I--I’ll--”

“Shhhhh, shhhh, baby,” and Kenzie brought her hand up to her mouth between them, willing spit from the back of her throat for a moment, then licking down the inside of her fingers wetly, shushing his begging, pressing her lips against the bridge of his nose, leaning away, smiling, teasing. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering just beside his hardness, not letting herself touch him, a line of spit falling down from her fingers onto the head of his erection, and he let out another piteous little moan, his fingers drifting at her thighs, staring into her. Then, Duncan rolled his hips into her, and his stiff, thick cock fell against her hand and she closed her fingers around it with terrible gentleness, and he was crying piteously against her, “uhh, Kenzie, Kenzie angel, fucking please--”

Kenzie gripped him tighter, eased her little fingers up to the head of his cock, her index finger drifting over the sensitive hole at the tip, and she felt the shiver fall through him, watched the ecstatic drift of his eyes. I’m never gonna get over how fucking gorgeous you are, Duncan Shepherd, and she jerked her hand along his length again, squeezing it a little at the base, palm brushing over his balls with a weighted insistence.

“This big cock belongs to me, doesn’t it, baby?” Kenzie pressed her mouth against the stubble on his jaw as she jerked harshly at his thick length, letting her whispers drift against him, letting her eyelashes flutter at his cheek, letting her hair fall against his nose where she knew it would fill his senses. The sounds he was making--keening, needy cries, sighing moans of abject craving for her--were kindling low heat in her belly, between her spread thighs, the lips of her cunt in the tiny bikini pressing harshly into the denim, rubbing into her clit, stoking her arousal. Gonna make you come, rich boy. Gonna make you come hard for me. You’re mine, aren’t you? You’re my beautiful baby, aren’t you, Dunny? Your come is for me, your beauty all for me, your moans for me, your big hard cock is for me--

“Yes, fuck, yes, fucking yes, Kenzie, I’m yours, my cock is yours, every part of me is yours, uhmm, please, fucking please, fuck--you’re so lovely, I can’t stand it, you smell so fucking lovely, uhh, unnnh--”

Kenzie spread her legs out further, easing herself backwards off Duncan’s lap as she continued to flit her hand up and down his hard cock--he let go of her reluctantly, his face raw with yearning, and she slid down onto her knees between his legs stretched out on the bed, bringing them together tightly so the denim rode up into the lips of her cunt, the pressure of the soft bikini fabric against her clit, her head dipped down in front of him. She willed more spit from the back of her throat and let it drip in a long slaver from her lips onto the head of his cock, her fingers dipping up to the head of him again to ease it insistently down. She could see his thighs shuddering, his hands reaching into her hair again, tangling there, pulling, burying themselves as if he never wanted to let go again. Then, finally, Kenzie dipped her mouth onto him, swirling her tongue around the hole at the tip of his cock, and her eyes came up to watch his head tilt back, watch his aching loveliness inside her ministrations. She dipped further down, remembering to open her throat to him, taking him entirely into her as she had when they went to the beach house--she didn’t gag this time, but her eyes immediately began to water, and she tried to breathe in but realized he blocked her airway entirely this way. Drool dripped down from her stretched lips, pooling into his balls, and Duncan’s hands were pressing her head down onto him, his cries lifting--his hips bucked so Kenzie’s lips fell to the shaft of him, and tears drifted down her cheeks. Kenzie thought of the way he’d fucked her ass last night, his thickness filling her to the point where her mind seemed to untether, and she imagined him inside her ass now, wishing he could fill both ends of her at once.

“Fuck, me too, baby, me too, fucking fuck Kenzie, baby, you feel so amazing, I love your little throat so much--” and his hand drifted down to grip her neck. “I love holding you in this spot, love choking you into white-gold thoughts--” and Kenzie knew he meant the way her mind looked to him when he pressed his fingers there, the color of her thoughts under the ecstasy of his hands. His eyes seemed to go darker as she glanced into them, and she pressed an insistent hand into his thigh, easing herself back--Duncan let go of her throat and she lifted up, gasping air through her nose as his length slid out of her throat, the head of him still resting against her tongue. She nodded into him now, sucking greedily at him, her fingers coming down to grip along the bottom of his balls. Come in my mouth, Prince. Give me your sweet come. I know how much you want me, I can feel every fiber of it. Your thick cock is mine, my little mouth is yours. Come for me, let me swallow all your desire into me.

Duncan bit down into his lip as Kenzie watched, and for a moment it seemed as though he was on the edge of tears, his face crumpling into a wince that shook her with its loveliness, and then she felt the warm thickness of his come flooding her mouth, felt the intensity of his shuddering into the cavity of her mouth, coating her tongue, splashing down her throat. It was sweet this time--fruits and chocolate, she thought. Beloved Dionysus. Dunny, baby, oh, baby. She let her mouth dip down one more time, let some of his come slide down the side of his shaft before lowering herself to suck it clean--and then Duncan was pulling her up, pulling her head away from his cock insistently, hungrily claiming her lips with his open mouth, sucking at them, tasting, nibbling at her. The sun was finally rising in earnest now--one of its beams scattered along the bed as they tasted at each other, and Kenzie’s heart was hammering rapidly, the sweet taste of his come still on her tongue, the woodsy-musk of his scent filling her head.

“Good morning, my love,” he whispered into her, and they were both smiling--smiling with earnest contentment, Kenzie sending drifts of her golden affection against him, feeling the cool blue of him swirl back into her. Her heart felt suddenly too full, the tears not yet dried on her cheeks; Duncan was kissing her again, gathering her against him in his lap again, whispering “I love you, good morning, I love you angel--” until she couldn’t help but laugh, giggling against him as his breath tickled on her neck, dipping her arms around his neck. To be with you, just to be with you, my heart’s going to just burst, I never knew anything could be so perfect, so right.

“I wanna go swim in the lake and eat blackberries in the shade, baby,” she said into his ear. “Let’s go fuck under the trees, in the flowers. I’m gonna make some coffee.” She tried to lift away from him but Duncan grasped her at the dip under her shoulder blades, mouth clashing into her, still hungry. “Dunny, I mean it, you need to get ready, you’re being fucking naughty--” “Yes, yes I am--” and he was biting along her neck, moving his hand down to press into the dip of her ass, a reminder of yesterday, and Kenzie yelped against him, struggling, jabbing her fingers into his torso and making him twist in tickling surprise as she tumbled out of his lap, laughing again.

“You did it to yourself! You tempted the tickler!” she called back as she rolled off the bed, running away from him, and Kenzie could hear his frustrated laugh as she escaped on bare feet. She went to the cupboard and brought down two of the glass mugs, starting the Keurig under one, then going to the fridge and pulling out a mango and a grapefruit, using one of Duncan’s bamboo cutting boards and kanso knives to slice them open, getting down two plates and putting half on each, getting two of Adelaide’s little silver spoons for the grapefruit, cutting the mango halves into checkered squares, discarding the hard center. Kenzie blew on the coffee, setting the other mug under the Keurig for Duncan, taking a careful sip. Perfect. Today will be perfect because I will it. I’m going to push my love out of me and let it fall over everything. I’m going to manifest my love into the world and mold my surroundings into loveliness.

She set her mug down on the island, lifting the sweetness of the mango to her lips, relishing its succulent taste--then she went to the cupboard and brought down a Waterford glass, dipping it under the faucet and pouring a splash into each of her succulents along the window, making a mental note to ask Anchaly to have the housekeepers check on them in a few days. Kenzie looked out the kitchen’s sunny, wide window to the clusters of trees and streets and the outline of the historic Colonial houses of Georgetown stretching far away and far below, sunlight spilling into the long steel sink, the sky almost impossibly blue with only the tiniest hint of cloud wisps scattered in it. I think when we come back, I’ll be different somehow. I have this feeling like--like I’ll know something important about myself that I didn’t know before.

Kenzie looked down into her hands at the mango--then she turned with a strange feeling, setting the mango down on the counter, and glanced back at the grapefruit half she’d left on her plate on the island. She hesitated, dipping a hand over the wave of her hair and tucking it behind her ear--then she sent the gold tendrils of her--of my spirit, my will, she knew--out to it. Come here. Into my hand.

Kenzie blinked, once, twice; then she felt a surge, as though she’d sent out a hook into the air, and then there was a heavy feeling, of the hook burying itself into the soft flesh of the grapefruit skin--and then she was blinking down in her hands as the dimpled weight of the fruit’s cool surface pressed there. Somehow. Impossibly. I made it move into my hand. And I KNEW I could do that. I knew that somehow. It’s impossible--but no less impossible than anything else that’s been happening to us lately. Hearing each other’s thoughts. Duncan finding me just by feeling for me. Duncan moving himself across a room with his mind. Me pressing my gold into people, healing them, pushing Marissa away with my mind. No less impossible. And yet.

Kenzie looked up from the fruit clutched in her palms--Duncan was coming into the kitchen, moving around the island to press a soft kiss against her hair, reaching for his coffee. He was wearing a slim-fit, short sleeve button-down in very dark navy, the top button undone, giving him a much more relaxed look than his usual fully-buttoned seriousness, and slim-cut, tight-fitting jersey shorts that came only to his upper thigh with a tying waist in washed, neutral black. His hair was now damp and towel-mussed from the shower, but to an unaccustomed eye (my eye is becoming accustomed, Kenzie couldn’t help but note with vague satisfaction), it seemed deliberately styled. He looks, Kenzie thought, so fucking perfect. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d be so fucking annoyed with him for looking so fucking good so early in the morning.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmured to her softly, taking a sip, then looked at her with some concern as he noticed her eyes, the dumbfounded expression on her face. “What? What is it?”

“I--Duncan. I just moved this grapefruit--” she held the half up to him, its pink interior dipping in her palm, “from the island, into my hand. From across the room.”

“Huh.” Duncan looked down at it, frowning, then moved to the island, brushing her arm a little with his fingers as he stepped away from her, the Cartier bracelet sliding down his wrist. He looked down at the plate she’d made for him, then back up at her, setting his coffee cup down.

“Try to move the other one, baby.”

Kenzie put the half of the grapefruit in her hand down on the counter beside her mango, then stared, concentrating, at the half on Duncan’s plate. Come to me. Into my hand. She dipped her palm down, fingers crooked--then sent the tendrils of gold out of her again, as she knew she could. There was a pause, then the hooking sensation again; and then Duncan was whispering “oh, fuck,” as Kenzie blinked down at her hand again in surprise. The dimpled weight of the grapefruit was now pressing there. She’d done it again.

“What the fuck,” she said, staring up at him. “How the fuck did I do that?”

“Fuck, Kenz, I don’t know, but for a second it sort of wobbled, then it zipped through the air into your hand like a shot. It was so quick. You blinked and you missed it. But it did.”

Kenzie felt dizzy for a moment, and she suddenly dropped the grapefruit half to the floor--Duncan hurried over to her, reaching out to grip her under her arms. “Kenzie, baby, are you okay? Do you feel dizzy again, like you did last night--after you sent Marissa went away?”

“A little,” she whispered, and Duncan was pressing her back against the counter, reaching behind her for a glass (this one had sunflowers on it, from the set the peony glass belonged to) and filling it from the filtered tap, holding it up to her. Kenzie clutched it with a hand she noticed was now shaking, taking a long drink as Duncan leaned down to pick up the grapefruit.

“You can do extraordinary things, Kenzie,” he murmured to her softly. His eyes were so blue--she felt dizzy again just looking up at him, dizzy with how lovely he was in the sunlight. “I have this feeling, baby. This feeling like--like when we come back--”

“Yes,” she was whispering against him, his hands coming around to her elbows, thumbs caressing the sleeves of her golden-yellow shirt. “We’ll be different. We’ll know things about each other--we’ll know.”

They both fell silent--it was all Kenzie could do to look into his face, so radiant with beauty, so full of love for her, tinged with hope and vague apprehension. The worries from the last few days were fading from his mind, she could feel it; pushed away by the more pressing knowledge that was the thing approaching them swiftly on the horizon, whatever it is. It has to do with me being able to move things. It has to do with us hearing each other’s thoughts, baby. It has to do with you finding me last night. Whatever we find out, it’s going to explain this. It’s going to show us what all of this means.

Duncan was nodding, his blue eyes burning like flame on her. “I’m not afraid, Kenzie. Not with you by my side.”

Kenzie felt her lip trembling. No, baby. I’m not afraid either. Just moved beyond words inside the vastness of everything I can feel is on its way. Thank the goddess--I have you. Inside your love, I fear nothing.

----------

An hour later, they were almost ready to leave for the cabin. Kenzie had begun to feel effervescently happy as they packed the picnic basket and two sleek white Yeti coolers with a vast array of fresh fruits (grapes, pears, honeycrisp apples, a huge pineapple, more mangos and grapefruits, little clementines, raspberries, blackberries and cherries) and vegetables (tomatoes, spring lettuce, avocados, celery sticks, mini sweet peppers, baby carrots, little cucumbers), sandwich fixings (turkey, cold chicken, tempeh, sliced swiss and provolone), a carton of organic eggs and a butcher’s wrap of turkey bacon, several hunks of artisan cheese (gouda, brie, havarti), jars of olives, tiny gherkin pickles, round rice and wheat crackers, sprouted bread, cream cheese, hummus, tortilla chips, pico de gallo, and an assortment of nuts and trail mix, granola bars, greek yogurt, almond milk, orange juice, lots of coffee k-cups and a bag of ground espresso beans; Duncan assured her there was a Keurig and an espresso machine at the cabin. Something tells me this cabin isn’t quite a cabin, Kenzie thought. The picnic basket had four bottles of red wine, the cooler had three each of rose and white, a bottle of Stoli, a bottle of bourbon, Pellegrinos, lime La Croix, organic ginger ale, and fresh limes and lemons. Duncan had also packed a half ounce of blue-strain weed and a gold-leaf weed pipe that Kenzie had demanded to admire for a moment before she’d give it back to him. Still discovering each other’s little secrets, she’d thought.

“There’s this little general store pretty close to the cabin, too, so we don’t need to pack enough for the entire time--we can go there during the day if we need anything,” he told her, setting the striped buckling blanket--the one they’d taken to the Cape Cod house--the lovely quilts, and the box that held the fireside cooking kit Kenzie had ordered beside the cooler and the picnic basket in front of the penthouse door. Kenzie had hauled her rolling red Kenneth Cole suitcase out of the side-closet in the walk-in where she’d placed it, after moving all her things to the penthouse--she’d had it since Georgetown, a gift from her Abadaba before she passed away, but it was holding up nicely. Inside it she carefully organized enough clothing for a week, almost all of it new (two cardigans: Duncan’s black Brooks Brothers’, and a new long gray one with large buttons and slits at the sides, a long button-down short-sleeved dress the color of sunflower petals, a short pink babydoll dress with long sleeves and roses prints along its hem, a tiny white cotton summer mini dress with a plunging neckline, a black flowing v-neck wrap dress with a buckle at the waist, a rust-colored, strapped mini dress with the sides cut-out, a pair of short-coveralls in light blue denim, a crop top with banded straps and white embroidery, a gray top with extra long sleeves, an ankle-length flowing linen dress with roses printed all over it), several pairs of sandals (her strappy beige, a new pair of black boot sandals) and her brown Timberland hiking boots (she’d only worn them once--on the trip with Claire last August). Kenzie tucked the velvet ribbon, her egg and plug, the rose choker, and Duncan’s cock ring into the suitcase as well, alongside both pairs of her Agent Provocateur lingerie, her little black kimono, her satin pyjamas, the oversized Led Zeppelin tee and lots of clean underwear. She only packed one bra--and I don’t plan on wearing it at all, she thought defiantly. Wild and free with my lover in the woods, and I can’t fucking wait. Fuck bras.

As she packed Duncan did the same alongside her--his suitcase was Prada (and decidedly more expensive than my banged-up one from Bed, Bath and Beyond, Kenzie thought), made of some kind of tech fabric with leather trim, and black, of course. She stole glances at him, eyes lovingly falling down his form, his eyes meeting hers every now and then when they caught each other staring--Kenzie watched the concentrated squint of his face, his hand drifting thoughtfully to his bottom lip, the fitted perfection of his clothing, the coiled strength in his arms, the fine hair on his legs to his large feet, now in black ankle socks, the soft dip of his hair on his forehead as he leaned into his drawers, pulling out several pairs of fitted and relaxed black chinos, black leather Nike hiking boots, the Armani sandals he’d worn to Yarmouth, black swim trunks, another short-sleeved button-down Oxford like the one he was wearing right now, a Nike club hoodie, another hoodie that zipped, more pairs of black jersey shorts, two jersey tee shirts--black, all black, and a single long-sleeved navy cotton flannel, along with at least ten pairs of the black briefs he always wore, and a dozen pairs of black moisture-wicking socks. He pushed through his hangers and Kenzie’s eyes fell on a black short-sleeved Oxford with earth-tone feathers printed all over it--”Bring that one, baby,” she said. “I like that one.”

He turned to her, smiling. “Whatever you want, Princess Kenzie.”

Kenzie was putting some of her jewelry (her rose quartz, the tiny rose-gold moon, her triple-moon pendant with the black obsidian) in a little travel pouch she usually used for it, and smiled with satisfaction at his answer. “Yep, that’s right.” She pulled the new black Vans onto her feet, skipping away from him to the bathroom, feeling his eyes following her all the way, the drift of his thoughts: Kenzie, my sweet Kenzie, my little shooting star, my firefly, I want to kiss your hair, your cheeks, your feet, the sweet space between your legs...she gripped toiletries in her fingers, calling out to him: “What do you need from in here, baby? I can bring it to you.” But she realized he was coming up behind her then, his long hands drifting around her under her breasts, his mouth coming to her neck.

“We need to get going, baby,” she laughed, twisting out of his arms, her toothbrush, mascara, eyeliner and tube of deodorant slipping out of her hands at his insistent touch; they scattered against the sink. She gave him a facetious look of annoyance and he grinned at her. “Later, okay? Stop being so naughty. We have a three hour drive ahead of us.”

Duncan groaned at the ceiling. “Don’t remind me, Kenz. I haven’t driven a car for that long in...probably at least two years.”

“We can take turns. I still drive Momby around in her old Jeep sometimes, so honestly I’m more used to a stickshift at this point. But I have a quick memory.”

“My little Kenzie driving a stickshift. That’s just sexy.”

Kenzie snorted. “Not if you saw it. There’s nothing sexy about that car. It’s like the old donkey of cars. That G-Class is sexy, though.” He bit his lip at that. You’re fucking sexy, baby. Nothing else is compared to you. He tried to grab her again and she skittered away, laughing nervously.

“Did Madeline get home okay last night?” Duncan was pulling several black Prada toiletry bags out of a bottom drawer under the sink, holding one open to Kenzie to put her things into--she smiled up at him and saw the melting expression in his eyes as he hovered over her. She took the bag from him and his hand immediately drifted into her hair.

“Yeah, she was fine. She told me to tell you she hopes we have a good time. I was thinking, baby--I think I’m going to turn my phone off during the trip. I’ll bring it, but I might not turn it back on until we get back. Unless there’s an emergency.”

“You know what, babe--that’s a great idea. I’m gonna do that too.” Duncan pulled his black iPhone out of his back pocket, holding down the side button, swiping the power off. He slid it back into his pocket, palm falling against her cheek.

“I can’t wait to be there alone with you. Kenzie. I can’t wait to show you everything.You’re going to love it so much.”

“I love you so much,” and she grinned up at him, hand coming against his on her face, cherishing the warmth of it. He leaned to kiss her but she slipped away, her mind humming with mischief towards him.

“No more kisses till we get to the cabin, baby. That’s the new rule.”

“Ugh, Kenzie, that’s hours from now--” and his expression was enough to drive her to the edge of immediately recanting, but Kenzie crossed her arms, turning her chin up in mock severity.

“Then you better hurry up, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie gave him a prim look and slipped away from him to the closet, retrieving a tote bag from her drawers--it was midnight blue and had a pattern of white celestial suns and moons, tiny stars glowing in the background. Kenzie went back to the kitchen and put the ghost story books and Duncan’s childhood mythology book in it, then she stepped into the study, moving to Duncan’s bookcases--she couldn’t resist looking back at The Youth of Bacchus for a long moment, lost in its ethereal beauty. I could kiss it, I love it so. She turned back to the bookcase, searching through his meticulously organized library--organized first by subject, then by author, alphabetically. Astronomy/astrology, she found near the top of the first shelf, and hummed with frustration--I’m too short to reach.

“Dunny! Come help me! And bring me the books on the nightstand, please?” She cupped a hand around her mouth and shouted through to the bedroom. Duncan appeared a moment later, Jane Eyre and The Golden Compass under his arm. “What’s this one about?” He asked, holding the second aloft.

“I haven’t started it yet, but I think it’s about parallel universes or something? I think that’s what the synopsis said.” He passed them to her, fingers clutching at her as she put them in the tote, trying to kiss her again. She deftly avoided him, loving the tiny frustrated sounds he made, the pained longing in his sky-colored eyes. “Baby, help me reach a stargazing book. That one up there, Backyard Guide to the Night Sky.” Duncan went to reach for it, then stopped, smiling at her vexingly. His hair looks so perfect. His skin is so beautiful. He is so fucking beautiful.

“Kiss me first.”

“Hey, I thought I said--”

“Please, baby. Please? Just one...little...kiss. Please, Miss Stone. I beg you.” Duncan was dipping his face (fuck he’s so beautiful, fuck, I can’t get past it, I can’t stop admiring him, he just doesn’t seem real sometimes, it’s like I made him up in my head, how can I resist him) down to her, his fingers drifting down the sides of her waist, and she tried for another long moment, tried to fight it, but then his hands were cupping along the bottom of her ass, dragging her against him, and her mouth was opening to him, and she thought fuck it, I love you so much--and his tongue was teasing into hers and she sighed and thought fuck we’re never gonna get to that cabin at this rate and he pushed her against the bookcase, fingers coming up to her hair and under her ear, pulling her insistently into him, and he tasted like the mango and bitter coffee and smelled like rain on cedar wood--

“Okay, baby--” she tried to pull away and he captured her lips again, moaning into her softly, “Dunny--you got your kiss, get that book for me--”

“I love you.”

“I know you do.”

“I love you, Kenzie.”

“I know, you dipshit, I fucking love you too.” She stuck her tongue out at him, but Duncan wasn’t deterred--he pressed his nose against hers, drifting it from side to side, then leaned back to stare at her. His eyes were like clouds reflecting a blue sea; he could see into her mind, she knew, feel the rosy adoration there for him. Just for you, Duncan Shepherd, and only for you, and you fucking know it. You know you’re the One, the only One, exalted in my eyes, beloved. He stared at her for another long moment (divine goddess, she heard, princess of heaven)--then, not without a marked disappointment, reached his long arm up to the shelf and brought the book down for her.

“It’s time to go, baby,” she whispered. “You can kiss me a million times when we get there.”

“Promise?”

“I fucking promise, Prince Duncan. In the long grass. Under the stars.”

-------

It was past 9 when they were finally on the road--Duncan wore his round Yves sunglasses, the smooth glide of the G-Class’ steering wheel drifting under his elegant hand; he was pressing one of his black Puma suede sneakers (Kenzie was amused to note it was the first time she’d ever seen him wear sneakers of any kind, but these were undoubtedly Duncan-style) on and off the gas pedal impatiently, starting and stopping in the Arlington traffic on the way to the Maryland highway.

They’d packed everything neatly in the trunk and along the backseat; Kenzie’s eyes gazed over her dark red roses affectionately, the gold vase carefully tucked into a basket that rested in the middle of the backseat, held steady between the two coolers and the picnic basket. A bellhop had appeared upstairs to help with a cart after Duncan had called downstairs on the intercom, so it hadn’t taken long. It was everything else that took awhile, Kenzie thought, thinking of Duncan’s hot, insistent kisses--she glanced over at him, saw him glancing between her and the road, looked away, smiling into her hand, her own round sunglasses shielding her eyes from him. She took another bite of a half-eaten chocolate-peanut butter Luna bar in her other hand, and flipped the Sirius XM on as Duncan merged onto I-270, heading north--Kenzie had waved as they’d driven past Madeline’s neighborhood a few minutes before, murmuring “hi Momby, bye Momby,” under her breath. Duncan had glanced at her, and she saw his endeared smile. Kenzie found the electronic station from last night, rolling the window down--the day wasn’t quite as hot as it would be later, yet, and there was a delicious summer wind. A sultry feminine voice drifted through the speakers as Duncan hit the highway, pressing his foot fully down on the gas now--Kenzie’s heart drifted up, and she sighed deeply, relief flowing through her. She reached for Duncan’s hand and he grasped her fingers, eye on the road. I can feel your heart lift too, baby. We’re escaping.

I’mma swallow all these diamonds, I’mma make you proud--you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest of all time, you’re the greatest...chain me up, trap me in gold, you’re my king, I gotta have you close--

God, this sounds like it’s about us, Kenzie thought shyly into him, and she could see him biting into his lip, his thumb drifting across to her knee. It does, doesn’t it. She twined her fingers into his there, loving the weight of him, the warm halo of his touch, the smooth drift of the car, the cool smell of new leather in its interior. The wind was whipping her hair against her neck, the sun hovering a quarter of the way into the sky, the temperature still in the merciful upper 70’s, and according to the GPS, traffic was minimal all the way to the lake. Kenzie laid her head back into the seat, sighing contentedly.

Pick me up and go, no I don’t wait don’t wait for no one, you gotta pick me up and go, no I don’t wait don’t wait don’t wait no, I’mma glow with or without you, two mil’ in my system I’mma swallow all these diamonds never spit ‘em out…

“I’m gonna jump head-first into the lake as soon as we get there,” Kenzie was murmuring to Duncan, her eyes drifting closed behind her sunglasses in the comfort of this moment. “Let’s go swimming, then eat lunch, then fuck all afternoon--”

“Holy fuck, Kenz--that sounds perfect. Wait till you see the water, today is exactly the kind of day I was talking about, where the sky reflects on it and everything is so clear and blue--”

“Like your eyes, baby,” Kenzie felt sleepy suddenly, sleepy with the depth of the peace she felt, the half-eaten granola bar falling down into her lap from her fingers, her other hand soothed by the slow caress of Duncan’s thumb over her skin. She heard his little scoff, but felt the glowing warmth of his affection, his quiet acknowledgement that she was right. Yeah. Yes, baby. Like my eyes when I stare at you, and you alone.

“What’s the bedroom like, baby?” She murmured to him, her eyes still closed. The wind felt so miraculously good; she smiled in the cocoon of all of it, the feeling of the sun on her cheek, the pressure of his hand, the electronic pulse of the music from the speakers, only a couple of hours and we’ll be in our own secret paradise.

“I’m assuming you mean the master bedroom, which is where we’ll be sleeping,” she heard Duncan say, his thumb still drifting against her, and Kenzie puzzled at that--what kind of cabin has a master bedroom? Her curiosity burned for a moment at Duncan’s quietness after his statement, then the soothing sensations of the drive were drifting against her again. Might as well just enjoy the ride and see it when we get there. You’re being coy on purpose, baby. Kenzie opened her eyes for a moment, glancing at him. Duncan’s face was placidly beautiful, his sharp jaw striking as he looked toward the road--a remix of Ella Fitzgerald’s Blue Skies now pumped from the speakers--blue skies smiling at me, nothing but blue skies do I see, nothing but blue--and Kenzie thought this is how it feels to be with you.  

Kenzie closed her eyes again, leaning her head back into the seat this time--when she opened them again, she realized she’d fallen asleep. The light had changed, was brighter and coming from directly overhead, the sun no longer streaming into the car from the side. Her neck was aching from the odd position she’d slipped into, her head crooked down onto her shoulder. Duncan looked at her sideways, grinning at her. The road was mostly deserted now but for a Prius driving a yard ahead of them and a slow-moving red Corolla that Duncan passed easily--they were surrounded by trees on either side of the asphalt, and it felt like they were climbing to a slightly higher altitude, the G-Class on the drift of an incline.

“Hi, baby. We’re about half an hour away now.”

“You’re kidding.” Kenzie lifted her arms out, stretching, the sound of her voice decidedly sleep-tinged in her ears. “I slept for two hours?” She glanced up at the dashboard; the digital clock read 11:37.

“It’s okay, baby. Yesterday was a long day--the last few days have been long. It’s all been--you know. Overwhelming. You were tired.”

“I said I was gonna help drive.”

“Kenzie, angel, it doesn’t matter. It went by so fast--it was peaceful. To watch over you. It was soothing, to have some time to think about everything. About...my mother. About Annette, I mean, but about my mother too. My real mother. Whoever she is. Wherever she is.”

“I’m sure Annette knows.” Kenzie reached for Duncan’s hand again and he drifted it out to her, grasping her. He looks so lovely in the memory of his solitude, she thought. I can see how his face must have looked at me as I slept. Oh, baby. How I love you.

“Yeah, I--I’m going to talk to her when we get back. I decided I will. There are things I know she knows that she needs to tell me. But for now I think it was enough to just contemplate it. Accept it. That there’s this whole part of me I haven’t known about until now. And it was calming to--to think about you...” Duncan’s head dipped here, his expression shy. To think about how much I love you, about how much I want to marry you, how much I want to know about the thing that’s coming, the hidden thing that’s right on the horizon, the secret thing, the thing that will tell us about each other, why it feels like we’ve always been together, always will be, about the dreams. “And the things that have been happening.”

“I wonder if there are other things we can do. You moved through a room just by thinking about it. I moved objects--I moved a person. I wonder if there are other things. We should try things, I mean--being in the woods alone is the perfect place for us to do weird shit without anyone bothering us,” and he snorted at her, laughing. Kenzie grinned at him, then she was serious again, straightening the smile. “Let’s see if we can figure it out.”

“Okay, baby. Let’s do weird shit.” Duncan was taking his sunglasses off, smiling at her with bemused mischief in his gaze--the oaks and pines gathering overhead and rising along the road were shielding them from the sunlight, and it was shady inside the car now, sunbeams dipping in and out, dancing over his cheeks. But within the playful expression in his face, the trust in his eyes shook her heart; I’d follow you anywhere, to the ends of the earth, to the edge of the universe, Mackenzie Stone. I’d follow you into the darkest abyss. Even that would be heaven, as long as you’re there. A line from Wuthering Heights, a book she’d loved fiercely since high school, drifted into her mind, clashing against his thoughts--if all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger…

“We’re getting really close now,” Duncan said, glancing away from her at the GPS. “Kenzie. I have a confession. I may have been misleading when I called it a cabin. It’s more of a--uhmm. A very large cabin.”

“Duncan.”

He bit into his lip. Turn left here, the GPS chirped, a feminine voice with a British accent. In .2 miles, turn left onto Lakeside Trail. Duncan spun the steering wheel under his long hands, and Kenzie’s eyes drifted to the Cartier bracelet locked to his left wrist, its gold flashing.  It’s me. That bracelet is me, my gold, the chain of us together, the golden thread of us.

“You’ll see. I think it’s..probably...bigger than you might be expecting.”

“Fuck. I forgot. You’re Duncan Shepherd. Playboy billionaire, soon to be CEO and majority shareholder of Shepherd Unlimited. Hot shit.”

“If I’m a playboy, you’re a playgirl. My little playgirl bunny. God, now I’m imagining your centerfold, fuuuuck--”

“Ugh, shut up, god, you’re being naughty today.” Kenzie reached out and pinched his side, hard, and he laughed in surprised pain, shying away from her. “Oww, baby, that fucking hurt.”

“Keep it up and I’m going to fucking spank you next,” Kenzie threatened.

“What if I like it?” He laughed as she jabbed her fingers out again, dancing them along his torso.

“We might just need to test that theory, then, huh baby?”

Duncan didn’t say anything, just continued to smile at her, amused and shy. He turned the SUV down a very long gravel path now, up to a long steel-bar gate with round golden lamps on either side of its entrance. Duncan pulled the car up to a keypad that dipped from an awning at the side, punching a code into it: 070688. His birthday, she thought. His mother’s doing, no doubt. Kenzie continued to drift inside his thoughts--the gates floated open and Duncan reached for her hand again as he put his foot on the gas. I was so used to being dominant with partners before you, baby, she heard him thinking. But I love it when you tell me what to do, and I love to tie you up and worship you, how you let me lead when my desire to is strong, and I loved it when you tied me up too, when you tell me I can’t touch my cock until you say I can, when you told me I couldn’t take my cock ring off, that only you could do it--with us, both are right, both feel right. Giving to you, taking from you, and around and around, like some holy circle we make together. I love it so much. I’d try anything with you. It’s always safe in the drift of your love. I love the way we give to each other endlessly. Nothing in the world could possibly feel more right to me.

Yes, baby, yes, Duncan. Then Kenzie lifted her eyes past the two rows of trimmed crabapple trees that lined the gravel drive--they were covered in red clusters, their very young fruit visible in the dappled sunlight of the late morning. She stifled the gasp that wanted to escape immediately; Duncan clearly heard her sharp intake, however, and glanced at her, his blue gaze hovering between apprehension at any hint of discontent, and an obvious hope for her approval.

This is not a fucking cabin, Duncan Shepherd. This is a fucking lakeside mansion. Kenzie pulled her sunglasses off, squinting at the huge structure that rose before them through the window of the SUV, aware her mouth was hanging open.

“Holy fuck, Duncan,” she whispered.

The cabin, as Duncan had called it, was a two-story sprawling structure, easily beyond 5,000 square feet, made of elegant stacked stone and dark walnut wood, with long, latticed dusky-red windows stretching along every wall of the lower level, giving it a regal romanticism that Kenzie immediately loved. The edges of the roof were slanted, made in dark black oak slatting. There were round string lights hung over every awning, but they were unlit at this hour of the day; Kenzie could only imagine how beautiful they looked at night. The structure’s lower level clearly encompassed more than half a dozen rooms, judging from its length--and a glass-enclosed structure with long wood tables, clearly for group events, was built off the side to Kenzie’s right, a spacious garage next to that. The entirety of the cabin-mansion’s length was enclosed by smooth, decorative white stones, and flowers were planted along the bottom of every window--Kenzie could make out geraniums, marigold, peonies and gardenia. There was a path to the left, surrounded by pines, and down it Kenzie could see a triangular-shaped, elegant white-wood gazebo built in the center of blooming hydrangeas. Inside the gazebo was a long wicker outdoor couch surrounded by flower pots with dozens of pillows, more of the round string lights hung about the eaves, and a long, low drink table with a decorative lantern. A long wooden swing hung nearby from a huge, sturdy oak that looked like it was at least a hundred years old. Beyond that, Kenzie could make out the long stretch of luscious water, indeed reflecting the blue of the summer sky with striking clarity--just as Duncan had promised. The lake. There was a long deck that extended from the shore, and a canoe tied to it with a length of rope, bobbing in the small tide. And I haven’t even seen the backyard yet.

Duncan had brought the SUV to a stop, pressing the smart key; the engine faded into silence. He reached a hand out to her, and she looked at him; is it okay, baby? His eyes searched her face, his mouth opening slightly towards her.

“Okay? Baby. This is like...oh my god. This is fucking paradise.” Kenzie felt tears begin to prick at her eyelids--she fought to keep them back, but it was all so wonderful, so much bigger than her, the vastness of the loveliness of him, of this, washing over her in a suffocating crash. Could this all be a dream, she thought once more. All of it, the last few weeks, my life utterly changed by you forever, my love, the magick inside us now, the magick that kisses every corner of my mind, every corner of our lives, tied together now, the beauty of everything, and you--you, so wildly beautiful, so tender to me in every instance, you, impossibly wonderful, impossibly perfect for me, and yet somewhere defiantly possible--please tell me, if it is a dream, that I’ll never wake up, that I’ll sleep for all of time inside this extraordinary, resplendent dream of you, my dearest love, Duncan--

“Kenzie. Angel. Don’t cry. You’re gonna make me--cry--” Duncan’s voice broke, and she saw the tiniest tremble in his lips, watched the clouded sky of his eyes flicker, resonate with the emotion she could feel from him like a swirling gust of wind; Kenzie, in an instant, threw her arms around him over the middle of the car seats, burying her face in his neck, the tears coming now, no way she could stop them, a little shuddering sob escaping from her. Duncan was pulling her easily into his lap, tucking her short legs over to his thighs so they fell down between the space between his bare knees, the smoothness of her skin brushing his prickly calves, her body pressing flush against his, the denim of her tiny shorts against the soft jersey of his crotch. The warmth and the scent of him--wood, jasmine--overwhelmed her more; you are no dream, my love, you never were and I know it, the time before you was a dream, the time without you when I’m away from you is a dream, and you are the only real thing in all the world. The love I feel in your arms is the only reality.

“I just--getting to be here with you, alone--fuck, baby, I’m just--”

“I know, Kenz, I know, baby. I can’t stand it either. God, I love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking happy, Kenzie. I feel like my heart’s just going to fucking stop--”

“No fucking way. If it does, I’ll bring you back to life.” She was pulling her face away from his neck, the tears stinging her cheeks; she saw the glitter of the tears in his too before she opened her mouth against his; he cradled her low, dipping his head over her, his arm clutching at the band of her top under her breast, along the rise of her ribs, his Cartier bracelet burying into her hair, gold on tawny gold. She felt one of his tears fall down onto her cheek, sliding to pool at her throat, and Kenzie brought her fingers to his face, wiping them away as he tasted her lips with aching slowness.

Duncan, I love you. With...with every part of myself. With everything I have. He was nodding into her, his soft, entreating sounds making her feel as though she were vibrating, enveloped by him. They clutched each other for awhile; the peaceful sounds of the birds, the wind, the lake splashing far off, the rustling of the trees--that was their music. It held them, drifting into the car windows, surrounded them, made them a bed for a long moment, let them lay together inside it as they tasted each other, as their tears calmed, as Kenzie wandered away from the feeling of tears, into a heady desire for him, an abundant joy. She pulled back, her hand on his bristly jaw.

“I wanna go inside, baby. I wanna see everything and then I wanna go fucking swimming and eat lunch with you and fuck you in every fucking room and out in the grass, under the trees--”

“Kenzie, fuck, baby, we get to be here for days--fuck, I can’t believe it, I’m so fucking happy--”

Kenzie grinned and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his mouth--Duncan’s words bled away as he kissed her there, lips open, his thoughts rosy with her, her mind brimming over with the gold she felt for him; for the gold is my love, and it always has been. It’s me giving the best of myself to him, because I love him. I love you, Duncan. I always will. The gold is the everlasting promise of my love.

“Baby, let’s go. Show me everything.” Kenzie leaned over and pulled the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open with one Vans-clad foot. Duncan helped her to the ground as she slid out of his lap, his grip steady, but very tender. He slid out after her, his chest pressing into the back of her hair for a moment, his mouth kissing down on the crown of her head. Kenzie went into the backseat, grasping the golden vase that held her roses with careful fingers--this will be the first thing to go inside, the token of his love for me. Duncan grasped one of the coolers and easily hoisted it in his arms, crooking his head towards the big front double-doors made of more sturdy dark walnut. He nodded to his thigh, eyes lifting to her.

“Kenz, get the keys out of my pocket, will you?”

Kenzie gently reached into the jersey shorts, staring into his face as she did, being sure to let her fingers brush against the length of his cock as she dipped her fingers into the pocket; he shivered, biting into his lip, sending a wanton promise into her. You’re gonna get fucked, baby. I’m gonna fuck you in the wild woods under the stars, in the big fuck off bed, in the bath, fuck, everywhere. I’m gonna rip those little shorts off you and make you fucking scream as loud as you can until you lose your voice and I’m fucking deaf, angel, babylove, Princess.

Kenzie giggled nervously, her face pressing down against her roses, watching his expression morph into one of romantic longing. My queen of roses. Persephone of spring. Kenzie stepped away from him to the doorway, her Vans crunching over the gravel, and unlocked the door with a rustically-styled key--as she stepped inside she groaned, overcome with the loveliness of everything again, Duncan coming up behind her, setting the cooler just inside the door. The interior of the front room was huge, a spacious expanse she could dance across if she wanted to--there were two long couches in the center of the glossy hardwood, a huge, probably priceless dark Persian rug under them. The roof was a wildly erotic charred black--a huge pair of moose antlers were attached to one wall, the Shepherd crest on another with distinct fleur de lis. A huge, life-sized statue of Hermes in a breastplate, smiling good-naturedly, his winged feet obvious, stood in one corner; a naked Aphrodite in another, her long hair fanning out in an invisible wind behind her, her face turned up ecstatically to some unseen delight, her breasts bare. A huge stone-lined fireplace was against the center wall that adjoined with a middle hallway, an opulent black grate across it. Along the wall that faced the backyard there was a huge glass window, looking out on a long deck with a sheltered deck table and a fence, beyond it, covered in more of the round lights, with a locking gate.

“We’re turning all the fairy lights on tonight,” Kenzie said, turning to Duncan. He nodded with a smile; such a beautiful, earnest smile it was. Anything you want, Princess Kenzie. Kenzie could see the fire pit beyond the deck, its huge, coppery circular indentation distinct on an inlay of deep-set brick in the daylight, low wicker lounge chairs in tawny colors surrounding it. Beyond that was woods--dense from the look of them, though there seemed to be a marked path from what she could see from her far position, the lake stretching to the far left, blue-reflecting and wildly inviting. Plenty of time to explore, Kenzie thought. She could feel Duncan’s eyes watching her again and looked up at him, smiling. She set the roses down on a table near the entrance, bringing her hands against the fabric of his button-down, feeling his body beneath it, the coiled strength in him, the desirous tightness that was lingering there. His hands came around to the small of her back, to the bare skin there above the tiny little denim shorts she wore.

“Dunny. I love it so much.”

“Come look at the bedroom. We’ll get the other stuff in a minute.” He clutched her hand, leading her to the hall, then up a huge staircase with a black banister, a chandelier of Swarovski crystals and gold embellishments hanging at the second-floor landing. He pulled her down the wide, darkwood-paneled hall, past several empty guest rooms, one with matte black decor, one with silver, to the end, where a set of double-doors painted with gold leaf around the edges seemed to promise her something exceptional--he pushed them open and Kenzie oooohhhh’d, immediately letting go of him to run to the bed and throw herself onto it--it was so wide she felt immediately lost in the center of it, sinking down into its luxe, gold-embellished feathery spread, laughing in delight, her hair tossing into her eyes, her heart fluttering against the Tiffany moon. There was an opulent, upholstered gold panel at the head of it, and what seemed like a dozen duck feather pillows piled high against it. Silky, sheer white curtains with gold edges hung across huge bay windows along the wall--through them she could glimpse the lake, its serene surface impossibly lovely in the early afternoon streaming in. 

This room was fitted with golden decor at every turn, gold-leaf along the wide dresser and the decorative tables, each with a breathtakingly lovely decorative gold leaf laurel wreath. On one wall hung a painting in an embellished gold frame: Cupid and Psyche, Kenzie knew immediately, her breath catching. In it, Cupid pressed his lips to Psyche’s cheek, her eyes closed in ecstatic repose, his wings, here portrayed as deep purple, the color of ripe grapes, dipping around her naked form, a crown of violets in his curls, curls like Duncan’s. It was wildly lovely, and looking at it made her long for him, as though it were them painted there, not the god of passionate attachment and his lover. She glimpsed a gold-embellished bathroom through a side-door, and what looked like the side of a polished coppery-gold bathtub. She glanced up to Duncan from her prostrate position.

“This is a bed fit for a queen,” Kenzie murmured.

Fuck. I didn’t realize we’d be sleeping in a bed like this. The mere feeling of the silky spread under her bare legs was kindling desirous heat between her legs.This bed is for fucking. This bed is for getting fucked hard by your Prince’s big cock. This golden, feather-soft bed is an altar for his beautiful mouth to worship the space between your legs. This bed is for you to kneel on while you suck him dry, for you to be tied to while he works you out into wordless cries of euphoria. This bed is for you to slave over each other’s bodies, sleep until noon, and then wake up wrapped to each other’s lips, impossibly entwined, sheets tangled in intricate longings, smelling of your need for one another. Duncan was staring, listening to these thoughts from her, his gaze becoming hot and flushed, the blush of his desire spreading over his statuesque beauty.

“Good thing it finally has one in it,” he replied. Duncan had leaned on the door in his familiar tick--his eyes had darkened deeply to storms, his thoughts dipping low into heady lust, the taste of her cunt, the softness of her skin, the nectar she knew he regarded as her mouth, and Kenzie bit her lip, propping herself on her elbows. Come the fuck here and get me, then, King. Come and get your Queen.

Then Duncan was advancing on her, his arms reaching down for her with a determined look in his divinely blue eyes that made her blood freeze, and she was writhing in his strong grip, with his sudden, immediate ardency, the aching softness of the down at her back stirring warmth through her body, in dazzling streaks of sensitivity. Duncan lowered his lips to the moon at her throat, making her gasp (my moon, my moonlight, moon flower, he was thinking) and then he was drifting down to kiss between her ribs at the deep V of her wrapped, sunlight-colored top, down further to kiss her belly button, open-mouthed, his tongue licking out.

“I think,” he whispered, his large, insistent hands at the waistband of her shorts, his mouth drifting to her hipbone over the denim, “That you need to get fucked hard before we do anything else today, Princess Kenzie. I think we need to christen this bed as ours. What do you think?” His hands were pressing into her now, holding her down, drifting up to her throat, holding her against the silky, aching softness of the bed, sensing how it was stirring her, thrilling her, kindling her desire up to a high agitation.

“Uhhhuh,” Kenzie felt absolutely weak to him, lost in his adamant stare, lost in the press of the tips of his fingers, sensing that they were barely containing their powerful grip on her. The bed, the huge house, the lake, the woods--we’re finally here, she thought. And it kindles a wild lust in me, the whisper of Dionysus, urging us to abandon our senses, and fuck each other until we can’t breathe in the middle of the day on this wildly easeful bed that feels like a cloud from heaven. We don’t have anywhere to be. We don’t have to meet with anyone, we don’t have to go to work, to interviews, to see our mothers, to find bodyguards, to go to stupid Galas, to fight off paps, nothing, nowhere. Our phones are off, we’ve disappeared from the world, we’re alone, we’re together, we have days. DAYS. Holy fuck, baby. Holy fucking fuck.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, and she whimpered, long and low, and his mouth was pressing, hot, aching, at her throat, and his devotion was like a knife, and she wanted it plunged deep into her body.

“Oh my fucking goddess, baby--fucking fuck me.”

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 28 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I am really proud of and happy with this part; I cried like four times while I edited it. While I’m writing I can never really tell how my stuff is turning out; only reading over it later do I get a real feel for it, and this one made me feel some BIG emotions, which is always the goal with Duckenzie. As for the details, as usual: There are basically an infinite number of combinations of food you can put in tinfoil dinners; here’s 30 examples. The fire pit enclosure is built like this (but with brick instead of gravel), the copper pit itself looks sort of like this, but embedded in the pit. Obviously, both Duncan and Kenzie manifest Pyrokinesis in this part. In my AU, neither Kenzie nor Duncan are as powerful as their Michael/Mallory selves, as I mentioned before (more about that later); and Duncan’s right, Kenzie is more powerful than he is, and she always will be. ROCK A LITTLE is MY favorite of Stevie’s solo albums, so I made it Kenzie’s favorite, naturally. It’s wildly underrated in my eyes, an album with very strong feminine energy, and an incredible album to dance to (like Stevie, I think of Kenzie as always dancing). TALK TO ME is one of my favorite Stevie songs, period; it’s about the connection you have with someone when you can see who they really are, the assurance sent out that you love them unconditionally; of course it fits Duckenzie, because their love for each other is absolute. I also wanted to play on the idea of them needing to talk to each other out loud versus being able to really hear each other--that is, feel what the other is feeling--without words.The sound system built into the stone path is something like this. I cut Duncan’s dream off before Michael’s snow goes evil--I wanted the moments after they wake up from the dreams to be happy and sexy, but he will find out about his Michael!otherself soon enough, just as Kenzie will learn of her Mallory!otherself...very, very soon, in fact. I realized after I wrote this part that @spellman made a gifset awhile back featuring both of the scenes Duncan and Kenzie dream about, which is so perfect, here. I also really realized consciously for the first time that while Michael’s hair is blonde and Mallory’s chestnut-brown, my Kenzie’s is chestnut-blonde and Duncan’s is a russet-brown, which is sort of a lovely dichotomy between the two universes (I live for shit like that). Don’t worry, Kenzie’s going to get a ring (my dream ring asdhdjdgsh), but i wanted her initial acceptance of Duncan’s proposal to be more organic, and I’m so happy with it here--Duncan is ostensibly offering himself rather than anything material in that moment, which was SO important to me. Can’t wait to write the scene where Duncan calls Madeline Momby to her face for the first time. Soon. The next part is Big Cosmic Vibes and I can’t wait for everyone to read it. As ever, your asks, comments, likes, edits and reblogs mean everything to me.

Kenzie ran up the stairs towards the bedroom, heart hammering. What is that place. That place surrounded by black oaks, growing impossibly close together, so quietly, with no wind? Like a doorway. Like that hidden door that flew open for us when we met. It’s one of those places. There was one on that balcony that night; the roses, the solitude, the quiet beauty of that evening. That was a thin place too. I see that now. Duncan and I were meant to meet each other that way, in that thin place; to see each other. To recognize each other.

Because--what. We’re fucking Soulmates. I think that’s what it means. I don’t know. But I think so.

Kenzie pitched herself down to her suitcase, tossing it sideways, unzipping it in the fading light of the bedroom. The window was still open--the coming night was drifting in, tossing the tiny flowers in her hair. Kenzie thought of how Duncan had appeared in the doorway that afternoon; after he’d fucked her so passionately on the silken softness of this vast bed, left the loving marks of his attention on her--you have magic in you that you’ve only begun to discover, Duncan Shepherd. Together we are going to do something incredible, something we can’t see the exact shape of yet, but when we’re together I can feel the magic growing, like a tree that took root in the center of my body, and now it’s shooting up and its leaves are reaching through my arms and my throat and around my heart and filling my mind with their gold and every part of me is tingling with it, it’s like the way I feel when we fuck, it’s so beautiful and intense I can’t breathe. It’s the rightness of it that moves me so much. It’s the exact right thing. You, and the energy that is being stirred up between us. It’s our destiny.

She wrapped the grey cardigan around her shoulders and pulled out Duncan’s Brooks Brothers’ cardigan after it--for him. Let him wear it tonight, wrapped in the scent of me now, as once it smelled like him so much, comforting me when I told Momby I loved him. The tender way he wrapped it around me after that first night--I saw the promise in his eyes. Even then, I knew. We both did. 

Kenzie stood and gathered Duncan’s discarded shirt from its pile beside the bed, then flipped the slender copper standing lamp beside the door on before she left--it illuminated Cupid and Psyche in its rich glow. Kenzie stared at it, bathed in the soft light; her eyes drifted over the flowers in Cupid’s hair, sweet alyssum, a crown for a prince of beauty. My prince. Maybe someday we can hang this picture somewhere in the garden house.

Kenzie suddenly felt like crying. Fuck. I love him so much. Oh, Kenzie Lou. You must have really paid your dues in another life. Just be grateful for every minute, every second with him. Watch the wondrous way the light is kindling up in his soul. It’s so beautiful I could just die.

Kenzie started at the stop of the stairs, then stopped.

I wonder if I can do that. What Duncan did. Appear somewhere else.

She gathered the cardigan and Duncan’s shirt in her arms against her chest, tightly--then Kenzie closed her eyes, biting into her lip. The deck. I want to be on the deck. For a moment, there was nothing--the silence extended, nothing moved, there was no sound in the house but the whispering rattle of the summer wind upstairs through the open window; the softest calling of a loon out on the lake, far off.

And then, she shifted. And she felt the wind on her cheeks distinctly, could feel the change in the air; the richness of all the scents of nature. Kenzie opened her eyes. Duncan was coming through the deck door from inside, the fireside cooking kit under his arm, a long box of tinfoil atop it, and in his other hand a carefully-balanced serving plate of the cold chicken seasoned with lemon pepper, red chili pepper and garlic, raw carrots and celery and some of the little sweet peppers, also tossed in the seasoning and olive oil--Kenzie could see them glistening in the low light.

“Baby. I did it. I just did it.” Kenzie hopped on the heels of her sneakers, overcome; she clapped her hands and rushed to him, carefully gripping the bottom of the plate, setting it on the deck’s round wooden table. Duncan stared down at her, puzzled for a moment, then a dawning expression of understanding came into his eyes.

“You appeared down here. You moved. Like I can. Fuck.”

“Dunny. I bet you can do things I do, too. Try it. Try moving something.”

Duncan blew air out of his nose, set down the other things he was holding. “Okay.” He closed his eyes for a moment, held his palm out flat towards the serving tray. For a moment, one of the carrots shivered, then rolled; back and forth, as if pushed by a particularly strong gust of wind. Then as Kenzie’s eyes focused on it, it shot into Duncan’s palm, leaving a trail of olive oil along his skin. Duncan grinned at her, his blue eyes lifting up in the shadows that had begun to gather around them, flashing almost white; then he laughed in amazed wonder, throwing the carrot into his mouth and crunching it with a triumphant immediacy, and Kenzie hopped on her heels again, laughing with abandon, too.

“This is fucking amazing,” he whispered as he swallowed. His hair was wind-tossed, his expression achingly sincere; his eyes seemed to be an indigo sky with drifting, shadowed clouds. Kenzie ran to him and threw her arms around him; she could feel the goosebumps that covered him now, and immediately unfolded his shirt in her hands, pulling it around him--he slipped his arms through, his expression full of aching affection for her.

“And now it smells like me,” she added, gently holding out the black cardigan as Duncan worked at the shirt’s buttons. He took it from her, almost reverently, pulled his arms through it and as Kenzie watched, heart aching, he brought the sleeves up to his nose, closing his eyes.

“It really does. Since I can’t really fit into any of your other clothes, this is the next best thing.” He gathered her against him. Kenzie, my sweet little firefly. We can do magic. Can you feel that? The air is vibrating because of us. It’s coming from us. Kenzie buried her face in the softness of his shirt, gripping onto the edges of the cardigan, lost in the feeling of him; you’re so much bigger than me, my sweet Dunny, you’re so warm, you could be my blanket at night, my coat in the winter. You are. You’re my shelter from everything. And here are the tears again; tears forever and ever. I don’t think I’ll ever stop crying again.

“Kenzie, cry as long as you want to.” Duncan’s lips were at her ear, the night wind drifting as the sun began its final descent below the horizon. “You can always cry with me, baby. I love you. I’ll kiss every fucking tear.”

The fairy lights along the deck had come on, and there seemed to be a hundred of them, in dipping echelons all along the sides of the surrounding fence, lifting up to the lintels. Kenzie noticed tiny lamps, embedded in the ground along the sides of the stone path, for the first time; they extended all the way to the dock and encircled the gazebo. Duncan must have set the timer, Kenzie thought, and more tears leaked from her eyes. Baby, you’re so thoughtful. You remember all the little things I say even when I don’t realize you’re listening. Duncan didn’t speak, but she felt the drift of his reply: everything you say I hold close to my heart. I wish I could memorize all of it--I wish I could tattoo your sweet voice onto my skin. It’s heaven to listen to you and I feel blessed that you would chose me to be the one to hear the things you say.

Kenzie looked up from the halo of his arms, past his earnest, dark-sky eyes, her gaze drawn up in shock--with a little gasp she realized the stars were coming out in earnest now, their cascade immediate, overwhelming, and deeply clear already. Nothing hindered the sky here; Duncan had been right. None of the haziness of neon lights to impede nature’s opulent display of cosmic wonders; a billion pricks of light were bursting in heaven, each one with a story so vast and infinite, Kenzie knew, it was enough to make one sob. She bit into her lip, pressing her cheek into his warmth again, closing her eyes; fuck, baby, that’s too fucking beautiful, I can’t stand it. She felt his cheek fall against the top of her head, and his arms held her so tightly they seemed to be crushing the breath from her lungs, but she didn’t care, no, no, to be inside his arms this way was the sweetest of all things, and she wanted it to go on forever. The thought of him letting go of her now made her want to wail like she was a little girl, bereft from the loss of Momby holding her. Her tears began to wet the front of Duncan’s shirt--she tried to lean back, upset to sodden it, but he shook his cheek against her.

“It doesn’t matter, baby, it doesn’t matter--I love you, I love you--”

Kenzie sniffled, letting out a shuddering breath, breathing the deep jasmine of his clothing into her; then she murmured “I’m hungry, baby, and I want music.”

“Mhmm, Princess Kenzie.” Duncan leaned his face down to her, kissing her wet cheeks, her mouth with tiny, tickling, pecking kisses--soon Kenzie was laughing through her tears, unable to contemplate anything but the sweetness of his touch now. Her stomach rumbled; Duncan gently let go of her and turned back to the dinner supplies.

“In the corner there, baby, you’ll see there’s a stereo setup.” Duncan nodded to the left side of the sliding door that led back into the cabin as he began to pull out two long sheets of the tinfoil. “Put something on. You’ll see. There’re hidden speakers all along the path,” Duncan said, “--and some in the gazebo, too. The music will echo everywhere. You can even hear it out on the lake for a little ways.”

“I should have known you’d know how to make tinfoil dinners without me telling you,” Kenzie shook her head, stepping away from him to where outdoor stereo system was protected under an awning that seemed to have been built specifically for it--she pressed a round power button and a menu came up on the interface with endless options; Sirius XM, Spotify, Pandora, and a digital library of over 100,000 songs. “Never met a rich boy who could cook like you. Then again--I didn’t meet many rich boys before you. Not my crowd.”

“I’m the only good one. Most rich people are terrible. Take it from someone who’s been around them their entire life.”

“That’s exactly the sort of thing a rich boy would say, Mr. Shepherd.” She turned back to him, sticking her tongue out, wrinkling her nose. Duncan had a laugh playing around his mouth now, glancing between her and his work as he arranged their dinners carefully on the foil sheets, the cold chicken in the centers surrounded by the vegetables, wrapping up the edges, making two foil lids to place atop them. She went back to the stereo, opening Spotify, searching for a specific album.

“But you actually are good, baby,” she said, over her shoulder. “You’re so good it makes me want to scream, honestly--and the fact that you aren’t hiding it anymore is something you should be proud of. I remember this one interview I saw of yours on TV last year--oh god, this is funny to think about now, baby--but you were so stoic in it, I thought, god, he’s so fucking handsome, but he seems so cold. Well. Duncan Malcolm Shepherd: you’re a big faker.”

She looked back at him, smiling, playful. She could see the blush on his cheeks in the glow of the fairy lights, the admission on his face. You’re right, of course, baby.

“Guilty. I am. Or, well, I was. I was good at it, too.”

“I saw through you, right away. I never would have gone home with you otherwise.”

“I couldn’t believe it when you said you would. I was so fucking nervous, Kenz. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I wanted you. The minute I fucking laid my eyes on you. It was like being slapped in the face. My heart just--fucking stopped. Like I--I recognized you. Like I knew it was you.” Duncan was wiping his hands on a cloth napkin he’d tucked under the serving tray as Kenzie hit PLAY.

“This is my favorite of Stevie’s solo albums.” Kenzie came over to him, sitting at one of the deck chairs, its spindly finely-wrought metal reminding her of a throne. Duncan was taking the fireside cooking kit out of its box; he leaned over her to kiss her, and she lifted her hands up to this cheeks, holding him against her for a moment. I can’t wait...the first line echoed into an electronic wind-up--it rang out over the stone path and seemed to skim across the lakeshore, dancing off onto the serene surface of the water. Now that I love you…the riff of an electric guitar bled out, flitting away from them on the deck, down the lights, through the trees, and Kenzie rattled her head from side to side with the music, grinning now. Duncan dipped away from her, laughing at her. Love you love you love you--she could hear him humming against her mind, could feel the sincerity of him, like a mantra whispered into her ear.

“I’m gonna go get some wine,” she said, hopping up. He nodded, the portable stove-top under one arm, their wrapped dinners on the serving tray in the other. “Get that sauvignon blanc, baby--I think you’ll love that one.”

“It’s nice to have my own private sommelier,” Kenzie drolled, blowing a kiss towards him. Duncan made an overdramatic gesture of ardency, as though he’d been smacked in the chest with cupid’s arrow, pretending as though he were about to faint. Kenzie laughed delightedly. I love it when you’re like this with me. No walls up, unafraid, unworried. Just happy. She hopped up from the chair, watching him over her shoulder as he stepped carefully down to the fire pit on the brick inlet at the bottom of the stairs, admiring the curls at the back of his hair, the wideness of his shoulders, the smooth skin at the nape of his neck.

 Kenzie felt compelled to look above her again, at the radiant tapestry she knew was coming out there (the stars the stars galaxies the universe our universe, so vast in itself, so infinite), but forced herself on inside, through the sliding door at the ground level, to the side of the deck, closer to the kitchen. Soon we’ll lay under them and I’ll look for hours. I want to savor it. I want to wait a little bit longer before I really drink it in. I feel so overwhelmed--just getting to be alone together like this is a dream I never want to wake up from.

Kenzie moved through the side-room here, styled similarly to the front room; this alcove had several bookshelves, the books therein all of a similar, nature-oriented slant (she spotted Jack London and Henry David Thoreau as she walked past them), and another standing statue--this one was Artemis, her starry bow distinct, her hair tied back, a hound traipsing at her bare feet. Child of the moon; her only lover, Kenzie thought. To run always in the sweet embrace of the night--a night like this, but one that never ends. She could hear the music drifting in from the deck, Stevie’s distinct wail melting around her (well she dances around in circles, she’s got that feeling now)--the kitchen was half-lit by two identical, tiny lanterns that hung over the windows that looked out on the forest. Kenzie went to the picnic basket, now resting on the counter--Duncan had emptied it of their lunch and cleaned it--and pulled out two of the wine glasses, grasping one of the wine bottles that lined the lower shelf of the fridge (that sauvignon blanc--Duncan really does have excellent taste when it comes to wine, I’ve loved everything he’s picked out). She hesitated at the window, opening the wine with the bottle opener strapped to the top of the basket, looking out to where the dark pines dipped down. Her mind reached out to that circle of black oaks she knew lay just beyond. The gateway to another world.

She shivered, then made her way back outside.

The sharp smell of smoke on hickory hit her nose as she pulled the sliding door open with her elbow--Kenzie started with excitement as her eyes fell on the fire that now roared beyond the deck, its brilliant titian-white flaring up into the darkness. She could see Duncan standing to the side, illuminated in the light of it. He was staring down into it, standing beside the coppery basin of the firepit, his hand on his chin--he took her breath away for a moment, his expression serious and far-away, his blue eyes reflecting the licking flames with an eerie, ethereal beauty. There was something about him, silhouetted in the flames that way, that made her pause--stilled the excitement that had bubbled up in her, pressed strange apprehension into the corners of her mind--then it passed, as a vague dream, and Kenzie made her way down the steps, the wine and glasses in her hands.

“Shit, Dunny, you sure got that going fast,” she murmured, holding one of the glasses out to him. His eyes skirted to her--only then did Kenzie see the strange expression in them closely, the depth of his disbelief, his confusion. For a moment, they were both silent--the only sounds were the crackling fire, and Stevie’s soft voice--

No explanations and I tell you no...you say...nothing...that is how songs are written, stories are told, rumors are started...

“Kenzie.”

“Fuck, what is it, Duncan? What’s wrong?”

“I--the fire. I think I...I don’t know how I started the fire. I was piling the hickory in the pit and sort of, I dunno--thinking about the fire? I was thinking about it, imagining it. And then there was a fire. It was just--there. Kenz. It was just fucking there, flaring up like I’d doused the wood in gasoline and lit a match. Only I didn’t. All I did was think about fire.”

“Are you telling me you started the fire with your mind, Duncan?”

“Yes. Kenzie. Yes.”

Kenzie cupped her hand under his, which held the wine glass she’d handed him, limply. She dipped the bottle down into the rim, pouring until the glass was entirely full. Then she did the same for her own glass, setting the bottle on the round brick-lined slab of the pit’s outer enclosure.

“I wanna try.” 

Kenzie clinked her glass against his--as Duncan watched her, that confusion still in his fire-lit eyes, she gulped at the wine, draining it halfway. Then, Kenzie turned to where the portable cooking stove was sitting beside the pit, still unlit in Duncan’s distraction. She knelt down in front of it.

Fire, she thought, gathering the warmth she felt on her back from the pit, the flickering orange dancing at the corners of her vision. Fire. She imagined pulling elements out of the air--carbon dioxide, oxygen, nitrogen--whirling them together, combining them.

Then, the little stove was lit; she could see the blue flicker of the flame burst up from the element at the bottom, could feel its little wave of heat spurt out towards her hands.

“Fuck.” She looked up at Duncan, whose fingers were pressed on his lips now, his eyes intense on her--a smile broke across his face, his grin kindling her heart up like the flames. As she watched he drank deeply from the wine she’d poured him--knew he felt in need of its heady courage, drifting in confusion.

“Holy shit, baby.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We can--we can make fire.”

Kenzie stood, noticing her legs were shaking. What else can we do. What other wonders, my love. How far does this magick go? She stood facing him for a long moment--the rich scent of the fire was flushing down her senses, its flickering heat drifting her hair back around her face. She could see the white glow behind his eyes, the power that was hovering inside him in this space, beside the fire he had made. And Kenzie knew, with certainty, that it was because of her that this fire had woken inside him. Knew that it was her light that had brought him to life this way. And the deepest joy filled her, like the sunrise, like the dawn bursting over a cool horizon, dancing over a field caked in dew, warming the earth and everything it could reach--spreading itself infinitely, selflessly, without reserve. That’s how I feel towards you, beloved. I could give endlessly, and never grow tired; the more I give to you, the more I have to give.

Duncan rushed against her--she heard the pattering arc of his wine spilling onto the stones, sizzling droplets hitting the blazing fire. His lips fell into her hair, against her forehead, onto the space under her eye, the dip below her ear. She knew he could feel her; knew she didn’t have to speak, that he didn’t want to either, just wanted to bask in the glow of their extraordinary fire with her. You can talk to me, talk to me, you can talk to me, you can set your secrets free, baby--

“I wanna dance with you.” She was grinning into the sweet-smelling skin of his neck, straining up to him, his arms gathering her fiercely into him. “I love this song so much.”

Duncan laughed, pulling away from her. She could see the glittering tears, the fire reflecting them like diamonds in his eyes. He was shaking his head. “I don’t dance, baby--.”

“Oh yes, you fucking do!” Kenzie gripped the edges of his shirt, pulling his mouth down to her, lost in the woodsy scent along the prickly hairs there, smiling against him, beginning to sway, dipping her head back and forth. “How are we gonna get married if you won’t dance with me at our wedding?”

Duncan groaned at that, his longing absolute; she watched his face shift from embarrassment into one of absolute surrender. You got me. His body relaxed again from its momentary tension; the fire popped, a flare of brilliant orange flitting skyward, and he began to sway with her, leaning his forehead down onto hers as she gripped his collar possessively.

“Here it’s only us,” she whispered into the bridge of his nose. “There’s nobody else in the whole world, baby, just us, just me and you and this magick, this night--”

“Kenzie, Kenzie, my Kenzie…” Duncan murmured her name over and over, swaying against her, his face shifting, his lips falling down to speak against her mouth. The blue fire of you is so strong tonight, Duncan, beloved--it envelops me, fills the corners of my mind, the secret spaces of my body, the very center of my soul, but it doesn’t devour, no--it makes me greater. Inside your love this way, I am more whole. I am more myself than I ever thought possible. She leaned away from him, clutching his hands so he was supporting her weight as her head fell back, feeling her hair cascade down to brush along the soreness at her back, the memory of his devotions--Kenzie’s chin turned up to the stars again, finally. I’m ready now, baby. I can look now that I’m holding you. Her eyes opened--the multitude was there, as she knew it would be, and the sun was gone. In its absence, the infinite expanse of the hidden myriad; the unseen world. The cosmic tide.

Oh, let the walls burn down, set your secrets free, you can break their bounds, cause you're safe with me, you can lose your doubt, cause you'll find no danger here

She was gasping with it--the feeling of his hands, the absolute devastation of the stars above them. Who knew there were so many stars in this universe. I never really knew until this moment. They seemed impossibly bright and distinct, and she was shaken with them--had known she would be. They seemed to stare at her, at Duncan, at the fire they had birthed out of the ether; the stars seemed to know her, know them, and bless them. Those stars seemed to know and confirm what Kenzie knew in her heart to be true. Our destiny: to be together.

“I know,” he whispered. “There’s nothing like it. Nothing.” The fire popped again--the scent of burning hickory drifted up anew to them. Kenzie could hear the sizzling vibration of their dinners inside the stove’s rounded pot, forcing her eyes down from the heavens, her stomach rumbling again. Duncan was pulling away from her, reluctant but with purpose, draining his wine glass. “I’m gonna go get the blankets, baby. Let’s bring our dinner into the field. Let’s eat under the stars. The fire’ll be fine until we get back. It’s a strong fire--I--I know it is. I made it. I can feel it. How strong it is. It’ll last until morning.”

Kenzie felt her heart pounding in her throat--the certainty and strength in his gaze was so beautiful she felt faint with it. She nodded. He smiled (the smile of an angel) and stepped away from her, full of purpose. Kenzie drank her wine off as she waited for him, turning back to the fire, gazing deeply into it.

Pyrokinesis, that’s what they call it, she thought. The ability to create and manipulate fire with the mind. So we can move things, move ourselves, and create fire. I can heal people’s minds with soothing calm if I concentrate, if I will my healing gold--my energy--into them. And I invoke something in people now, too. Devotion. Trust. Goodwill. I always did, I think, but...now it’s stronger than ever. Now it’s something I can see immediately. And I think Duncan’s becoming that way too, as the light of our love really seeps into him, really touches his soul. The shadow in him will always be there, because it’s as essential a part of him as his deep goodness. The shadow is the outward self for him, the light the self within. For me, the light is outward, and the shadow within. Together we create something infinitely powerful.

Duncan was coming back, the picnic blanket tucked under one arm, two of the thick quilts under the other; his expression one of earnest happiness that clenched at her heart. Kenzie lifted the lid of the little cooking pot with a cloth napkin, a plume of steam rising up as she did, and knew their dinner was done. She placed the sizzling foil wraps on the serving tray with a pair of tongs; she dipped down to the burner underneath, hesitating for a moment, then, concentrated, drifted her fingers against the element, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, the fire had burned away--sucked back into the air, back into the energy it had occupied before. Thank you, she thought, sending her gratitude out into the night. Thank you for your gift.

“Wow,” Duncan breathed, watching her, eyes wide. “That was so beautiful, Kenz. That was so delicate and lovely. Everything you do is so lovely--the way you do this...this magic. It’s like you’re creating tiny worlds with your hands.”

Kenzie picked the tray up with both hands, smiling shyly at him. “It sort of feels like that, honestly. A tiny movement but with a huge, intricate thing inside it. It’s sort of like that.”

“I can see it. When you do it. Yours is more powerful than mine. Mine is clumsier, I have to concentrate for longer. Yours is...it’s so graceful. It’s an innate part of you. I think mine is stronger when you’re near me. When you’re away, it’s much smaller.”

“You’re in luck. I’m not going anywhere, Duncan Shepherd.”

“Baby,” he breathed, leaning down, eyes closing, brushing his mouth with aching tenderness against hers. She longed to touch his hands, but their hands were full--to the stars, the stars, her heart was pleading.

“Let’s go, baby, show me,” she whispered, and he nodded, stepping away, looking back to her. Come on, Kenzie Lou. This way.

------

They’d stepped off the path, away from the illumination of the house with its strings of fairy lights, the lamps lining the stone walkway. Here there was the outline of the forest to their left, and ahead, a thinner line of trees that she could in see beyond, see the dip of a slope, the skyline ahead, the slightest residue of night-kissed clouds drifting here, soon to dissipate. She could see the halo of Duncan’s curls, the dark slant of his back in the black cardigan, almost like a long cloak in this light, his towering height and the mounds of the blankets under his arms. He cocked his head back, his face shrouded in shadow but his eyes sharp azure, brimming with a titillating innocence here, in the balmy night, in the warm grasses, away from the clear path but knowing all the same. Kenzie felt faint with the surety she felt from him--knew how deeply he had hoped to show her this, whatever it was, knew how he had longed to, waited for this moment.

“The slope is a little bit sharp here, baby, so be careful, go slow,” he said, and she followed him through the thin line of trees, their whispering leaves brushing against her hair, as if they longed to kiss her. Kenzie’s eyes were adjusting to the dark now, and she could see the tiny bursting glow of fireflies drifting through the grass, along the treeline--she looked up and saw that the slope fell down in a slant of longer grasses, half-grown with early summer, and then drifted out to a field that extended for a hundred yards ahead, the forest surrounding on all sides. She felt sure the road lay somewhere far off into the distance to her right, but it wasn’t visible from this vantage, and they seemed to be utterly cut off from the modern world. Inside this vision before her, there was nothing but the open grass, the dark trees, the night in its full, fallen glory, and Duncan.

She followed him down the slope, eyes on her feet to keep herself steady on the incline, hands carefully gripping the corners of the tray, its deep heat soothing. Duncan looked back at her again, and she met his gaze, drifting out to him. Can’t wait to hold you soon. I’m gonna hold you under the stars and never let go. The slope ended and they were treading into the grasses now; into the center of the field. There were more fireflies here, but there was a surprising lack of other bugs--one of the fireflies drifted onto Kenzie’s hand and she looked down at it affectionately--hello, little one--its pulsing light crawling up her arm for a moment, then drifting away again out into the air.

Duncan stopped where the grasses seemed to dissipate, there was a flat circle of short grass here that almost seemed man-made, though Kenzie knew, somehow, that it wasn’t--the grass here just grows this way, she thought, certain. It’s always been this way. Duncan laid the picnic blanket down and then gathered the quilts atop it, then turned to her and grasped the tray. Kenzie smiled at him, sitting, gathering one of the quilts around her shoulders, and Duncan set the tray between them, settling down beside her.

“Kenzie. Look up.” Duncan’s hands reached out to her, gripping her fingers, steadying her. I’m here with you, Kenzie, my love. Then he drifted his head up, his adam’s apple dipping, his mouth opening a little, his eyes shining with impossible brightness (my love, she thought, your beauty is infinite, like these stars, I love you so much and when I die I’ll be reborn to find you again, I know it, I know, Duncan, I’m not afraid), and Kenzie did the same--lifted her eyes to heaven.

The stars were so distinct, so gloriously bright, so effulgent they seemed to burn her eyes. To try to contemplate all of them was like trying to sift out unique grains of sand from a desert; there are simply too many, too much--there’s too much, like the way I feel inside your love, there’s just too much, I can’t describe it, I can only feel it, Kenzie thought, her breath sighing out in a shivering gasp. She felt Duncan’s hands clutch her fingers more tightly, felt him lean closer to her to comfort her, the warmth and the scent of him drawing near.

“That’s the Summer Triangle,” she was whispering, her voice aching in the vast, illuminated shadows. His affection for her in this secret place felt like he was touching her on every part of her skin, and she felt tears on her cheeks again--it doesn’t matter, with him I can always cry. “Lyra, Cignus, and Aquila.” Kenzie pointed up, dipping her finger eastward to an area where the clusters of stars seemed their brightest; one star in particular pulsed in almost the exact center of the sky, its brilliance like a beacon shining down on them.

“What’s the bright one, there,” Duncan asked, his achingly beautiful hand drifting up to the centermost star. She glanced down at him again; Duncan’s eyes seemed illuminated with white once more, like balls of strange, lapis-tinted fire. His gaze was heavenward, the wind blowing his curls across his temple, into the blue nebula of his eyes; he reminded her again of a pious saint, the beautiful visage of some fresco of an angel in a holy temple; my beloved, you’re what the poets speak of, what the painters of the ages have sought to capture with their brushes and their paints and their hands. I chose you. I choose you--tonight, and for every day to come. And I, too, am infinitely blessed.  

“It’s Vega.” Kenzie brought her lips against the stubble on his chin--she felt Duncan turn his face down to her, his nose, then his lips brushing against her forehead with urgency, his hand coming up to hold her steady against him. Stay here, Kenzie, let me feel you in the sweet star-kissed darkness. “It’s one of the brightest stars in the sky, especially this time of year. It’s not that far away, at least, compared to most stars--only 25 light-years--then again, one light-year is over 5 trillion miles.” She grinned at him in the starry shadows; knew he could see her smile when his very white, straight teeth flashed back at her.

“God, we didn’t even need to bring that stargazing book, I guess it doesn’t matter that we forgot to bring it out here with us. I should have guessed you knew so much about the cosmos--everything you own has stars and moons on it.” His hands drifted down her arms, and Kenzie shivered, the bliss of this moment encompassing her.

“I don’t know that much--I mean, look at all of them,” and she blushed as his gaze stayed, steady, on her instead. “Look baby, look.” She pressed his chin up--Duncan’s eyes skirted to heaven, then back to her as if drawn by an invisible current. “There are so many. It would take my whole life to learn about all of them.”

“You look like that painting--Star of Heaven. The one I took the picture of you leaning on. Your hair is glowing, Kenz. Like it’s full of stars.”

“Let’s eat, baby,” Kenzie said, lost to any other reply, trembling under the weight of the emotion she felt here, in this place, with him, the fireflies drifting in languid arcs of bursting light, the sky awash with incalculable wonders. He was nodding, but his hand was drifting through the waves of her hair, as if tethered there, unable to break away.

“Eat your dinner, Duncan. Do as I say.”

“Yes, Princess Kenzie.” His hand drifted away, but Kenzie could see the reluctance on his cheeks in the bluish shadow--the moon was still corn-husk bright, but it was surrounded by wisps of cloud that seemed to swirl around it, and it alone--the rest of the sky was almost shockingly sharp and bright under the wide, open space of the field here, to a degree Kenzie simply couldn’t make sense of. Like all the other magick around us lately, I’m going to just accept it, and bask in its wonders.

They both unwrapped the foil at the same time--a plume of smoke drifted up from each, and Kenzie couldn’t help but wriggle with excitement again at the wonderful scent that rose from them. She stabbed into the tender chicken with her fork, bringing it up to her lips, blowing eagerly, then popping it, hot and juicy, into her mouth.

“Ugh. It’s perfect, Duncan. Everything is perfect.” Their hands came together again, feeling desperately for each other.  

“Kenzie. Today, in the woods--in that circle of oaks. Did you feel like--I dunno. Did you feel like we were in another place? It felt like we weren’t even on earth anymore. It felt like we went to another world. Did you feel that way? And I was calling you those strange names, but I don’t know where I heard them, or if I was imagining them, making them up, but...I don’t think so. I don’t think I was. I just--I don’t understand--the fire and--”

“Shhh, Dunny. I don’t know either. But I’m not afraid. I think--I think something is nearly here. It’s so close, can’t you feel it?” Kenzie set her fork down; drifted the very tips of her fingers down his palm, opened to her on his knee. Duncan looked up, as if the sky was less overwhelming than her eyes in this moment, less overwhelming than the strange wonders they’d experienced today.

“Yes, baby. I feel it.”

“We just have to--we just need to be patient for a little bit longer, I think. I think soon we’re going to understand things a lot better. Really soon. I just have this feeling, as if we’re standing in front of the next door on the path, and our hand is on the knob, and we’re about to turn it--”

“--And there’s just this little bit of time between the us and the door opening,” Duncan finished. “Yeah. Yes, baby. Yes. Okay.” He leaned down to his dinner, then, and she could feel the blue of his mind soothing, calming, settling down to indigo tranquility. They were both quiet then--they ate in a sweet silence that Kenzie cherished.

A little time passed--Duncan pushed his dinner away, his foil empty, and laid down on his back on the picnic blanket, one of the quilts under his head. Kenzie felt full and deliriously happy; Duncan pulled eagerly at her hand and she leaned down to him, pulling the other quilt over their legs, tucking her head down into the crook of his arm, breathing deeply at the smell of him--sweet jasmine, sharp cedar, the rain on a spring day in a green forest. Kenzie could feel something nagging at the blue patina of his thoughts again; something he was fighting to find words for, something that seemed vast and deep. Something from the woods. Something about those oaks all growing together, and the flowers in their swirling pattern. And my gold--the healing press of me against him now. The way I can soothe him so utterly, the way he knows it’s not just how much he loves me, or how much I love him, but an ability that I have. The magic that is mine and mine alone.

For awhile they laid there in the quiet, staring at heaven. Its dome of brilliant stars seemed almost unreal--simply too great, too imperceptible--and their thoughts were unclear to each other; his hand drifted through her hair, and Kenzie pressed her lips on the softness of his shirt under his breast. The moon drifted out from a cloud, then dipped behind another. Vega shimmered from the center of the sky--it seemed to look down directly on them, watchful, protective.

“Kenzie,” she heard his whisper, so soft she almost thought she’d imagined it.

“Yes? What is it, Duncan?” Somehow Kenzie knew that the thing he was going to say was going to shake her. Suddenly she was afraid--there was an immensity to this moment, a swooping, dropping sensation in her body. She tried to move her arms more tightly around him. Brace yourself, Kenzie Lou. This is the beginning of the revelations.

“In that circle in the woods....in the middle of everything. I had a realization. It was like...in that place, I could see everything about life more clearly. Everything about us, and the world, and the way it’s--it’s tied so loosely. I could see that we were in a--what did you call it--a thin place. Like we were close to other things. And I saw you...differently.”

“What do you mean, differently?” Kenzie brought her head up to look at him, her chin still resting on his chest. A firefly drifted past his russety curls, glowing faintly, then fading out.

“I mean--I saw what you really are.”

Kenzie smirked at him, despite the nervousness she felt fluttering in the center of her body.

“What am I? The Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

He grinned at her, twisting a lock of her hair around his hand, his gold bracelet glinting for a moment. You haven’t been wearing a watch lately, Kenzie thought. It’s like time doesn’t really matter anymore when we’re together, isn’t it, baby. It’s like that.

“Kenzie.” His expression softened; Kenzie could barely stand the emotion inside his gaze now. The blue center of a soft, drifting star. How I love your eyes, Duncan.

“Kenzie,” he said again. “You’re…”

She heard the thought before he spoke it. An angel. “An angel.”

“Baby, you always say that. You always call me that.”

“Kenz, no--I don’t mean like that. I mean you’re--I saw you. The real you. The you you were before this life, before this world, or...something. It was that place. Inside it, I could see things that are usually hidden. And I feel like you did too. Did you? Did you see anything? Anything...differently? Did you see me differently?”

Kenzie’s breath caught in her chest; her eyes drifted away from him, overwhelmed, into the stars, overwhelmed again inside them; she sighed, the breath trembling through her.

“I--I think--”

Fuck. I think I did. I think it was like a flash of lightning in a dark sky--there for a moment, then gone, but the outline of it still burned into my retinas. Like the dreams, I remember the outline, but not the details. I don’t know if it’s possible to remember the details. I think it might be too much to really see. Too great.

“I think so,” she whispered. “But I can’t describe--I can’t find the words...I remember the flowers around your head turned to gold. A gold so soft and beautiful it was like they were still alive--golden flowers, baby. And in my mind I thought...some kind of name. Like those names you called me. Sword of the Evening Star. That’s what it was. That was what I called you, in my mind. Like someone had whispered it into my ear. Sword of the Evening Star. How lovely is that.”

“I called you Angel of the Hidden Sphere,” Duncan’s hands soothed along her arm, down the crook of her waist. “And I don’t know what that means--I don’t know what the Hidden Sphere is--but Kenzie--listen to me. You were something else once. Something more than human. I guess I don’t know what else to call it. Mackenzie. You were an angel.”

Kenzie felt tears gathering along the edges of her eyes.

“An angel? Baby, what are you saying? I don’t…”

His lips drifted down against her forehead. His scent enveloped her; the soothing blue aura that always surrounded him was trenchant, completely whole, utterly certain.

“I know it’s unbelievable,” he was whispering against her, his voice steady, unshaking. “But just think about all the unbelievable things that have happened to us lately. We both made fire just by thinking about it. I moved across the entire house in the blink of an eye. You’ve been moving things across the room just by looking at them. You can heal people’s hearts just by touching them, just by willing it. I knew where you were last night because I felt you. When I realized Annette isn’t my real mother, you felt my sadness over miles, baby. All of that should be impossible in the world we used to know. But now that we’re together, there are extraordinary things in this world--real things, Kenz--that exist despite all doubt, and we’re starting to see them. And that’s what I saw. I saw that you were--that you are, that you always will be--a divine being.”

Oh, goddess. Oh, Duncan.

Kenzie felt the tears begin to course down her cheeks, dampening Duncan’s shirt--soaking into him. She began to sob quietly against him; I don’t understand--but I do. What you’re saying, oh, Duncan--I feel that it’s true. I can’t believe it, I can’t comprehend it, but I know it’s true. I don’t know what it means, I don’t know what the past was, or what the future is--but I know you’re right  I know I was what you say. I know she’s inside me, still hidden, still waiting. Little parts of her peek out sometimes, when someone needs help, when I feel a love so deep for you it wants to tear me apart. But the wholeness of her is beyond this world.  

“Oh, baby, oh, Dunny, oh my god, oh--” Kenzie found that she couldn’t stop now; her sobs rose, crashed against him, tears drifting in a steady stream against him now, soaking him. She brought her hand against her eyes, could feel her mouth crumpled into an involuntary frown, her heart overwhelmed with an immensity of knowledge that threatened to rip her in two. Duncan turned into her, his arms tightly around her, cradling her face inside his grasp, his cheek in her hair, his mouth speaking soothing sounds to her ear.

“Shhhh, baby, shhhh, angel, my angel, shhhhh, everything’s okay, everything’s fine, I’m here, I love you, shhhhhh...”

Kenzie could hear the slow, steady march of his heartbeat--could feel the tiny rhythmic burst of it against her cheek pressed to his body. Even inside this, even knowing this, trembling in its greatness, unable to comprehend my own Fate, I know the part of it that belongs with you. I know that, absolutely. At least that I know completely. Help me, baby. Help me bear it. Help me feel it and not be overcome by it.

“Exalted. Beloved of heaven. My Kenzie. I beheld your greatness. I am moved by it, body and soul.”

His words shivered against her with the softness of tiny wings. He was lifting her face up to him, his mouth the dearest, most passionate adoration. Kenzie could feel the stars above them now; feel their endless, wheeling weight, the massive geometry of their dance, feel the measurement and ponderousness of time for a long, infinite moment, extended through the divinity of his lips. No matter what eons pass, he thought, I will love you. For all time. I always have. In every place. In every time. In every moment. And forever.

Kenzie cried against him for a long time; the stars wheeled, glittering beyond all secret knowledge, and Duncan held her, his arms trembling with emotion, and after awhile, she felt his tears in her hair, and she felt soothed by them. As you are moved by me, I am moved by you, my love. As I am exalted, I’ve exalted you. Body and soul.

--------

Kenzie sat at a long table in a white room.

Zadie. It’s Zadie. Zadie was wearing a long black cardigan and a white blouse, holding a white rose. She was speaking, glancing at Kenzie from where she stood on the other side of the table; Kenzie could sense there were other women on either side of where she sat in the center, could sense their warm, curious energy in soft colors. Zadie was speaking, but Kenzie couldn’t hear her at first--she strained to hear, tried to still her mind away from whatever was blocking her hearing, tried to quiet herself. The sound slowly bled into her mind as though from a far distance--

“Nothing is immutable when the will of a strong woman is applied. Now, show me how strong you are.”

Zadie looked up at her expectantly; and at the other girls. Kenzie looked down--in her hand was a white rose almost identical to the one Zadie was holding. Kenzie knew, immediately; we’re supposed to change the color of the rose. It’s some kind of test--it’s like we’re in a class.

And Kenzie knew immediately, too, that she could do it. Like pouring wine into water, watching the color change. I can pour myself into the rose, and change it, utterly.

Kenzie felt herself breathe out, soothingly, felt the gold of her drift into the rose; slowly it altered, like the tide falling out onto the stretch of the shore. Blue, and her mind flared with the depth of her affection as she watched it change to a rich cobalt, like a lapis stone. Blue, the color of Duncan’s eyes, the color of his soul. Blue, in honor of the one I love most. Kenzie watched the rose deepen, felt the smile on her cheeks--then she watched, as if removed from herself, as the rose’s petals, now deeply, radiantly blue, drifted down from the stem, falling to the table’s surface. She thought of Duncan; like wings inside me, my deepest joy, the flowering center of my being, his hands so beautiful and graceful and delicate on my body, his devotion so pure, so entire. Roses in the bathtub, a diamond moon at my throat, our gold bracelets, tethered to our skin, the aching sound of his voice in the darkness, the beautiful edges of his jaw, his throat, his lips. The way he holds me, the passion of his touch. The blue is for him; as I am his.

Kenzie continued to watch the rose petals; as she did, she felt her mind reach out for them again, as if removed from her own demand, trapped inward, looking outward at another self. The petals began to alter, to change into something else--soon, each one was a cobalt-colored butterfly, their tiny minds melding against hers; each one was a part of her, she could feel it, each one was an aspect of her own soul. And each one is a devotion to him, she knew. Each one is a part of my love for him.

She felt herself drift a hand down, then dip it upwards, her fingers curling softly--the butterflies floated towards the ceiling, their wings drifting in graceful ease. She sent them to where she knew Zadie was standing; with mild surprise she noticed Candice now stood beside the tall girl, wearing a high-collared floral dress, her expression astonished at Kenzie--astonished at what she had done to the rose. The butterflies drifted above Candice’s head; Kenzie pushed the gold in her down, and the butterflies broke apart, becoming petals once more that fell around Candice and Zadie. Candice held out a hand, her face still marked with wonder; one of the petals floated down into her palm, and as Kenzie watched, it turned white again, the blue disappearing entirely.

And then she was drifting back up--up, up, towards a different, darker light, as through a pool of water lit by light, back into the night, back into the field of stars…

Kenzie opened her eyes. They saw nothing at first; only deep darkness, only void. Then, they began to adjust--she could feel the softness of the moonlight, once again peeked from behind a scant slip of cloud, and knew the warmth and weight under her cheek was Duncan’s body, knew the slow, steady drift of his breath meant he was asleep--as she had been a moment ago.

I was dreaming.

Kenzie looked up, moving only her eyes, keeping her head steady against him; through the corners of her vision she could see the universe still spread out above them, sense that they were still in the depth of the night, dawn far off. It was wonderfully warm against him under the quilt; the night was balmy and mild, the wind having drifted off, leaving the air very still. Kenzie could hear peepers calling off in the surrounding trees; she strained for a moment and heard an owl, the pattering of some creature in the undergrowth.

Blue butterflies, she thought. Blue roses for Duncan. How lovely. And Zadie and Candice were there. That was such a beautiful dream. I almost wish it had been longer.

She fought to come out of the dream; noted with vague surprise that they’d fallen asleep out here in the sweetness of the field, under these miraculous stars. I think I could sleep anywhere as long as you’re with me, she thought, and sat up, turning her head to gaze at Duncan in his sleep. Strands of his russet-colored hair drifted against his forehead, and his face was turned down to where the crown of her head had been a moment before, his hand near where her cheek had rested. He looks like an angel, she thought, vaguely; and then the dawning realization swooped back down on her, the memory of his words before, the ones that had made her cry so hard, the ones that had eventually pushed her (and him too) into such sudden, complete slumber.

That I’m divine, she thought. I’m an angel. Or, I was. Or, I will be. That’s not clear. None of this is. I just know he’s right. If so much hadn’t happened already--if so much magick wasn’t drifting around us--I’d think I’d gone insane. But I can’t deny it. I know he’s right, just as I know the sun will rise in a few hours, covering this field in golden dew. Just as I know he loves me so much he would die for me if he had to; die a thousand times, ten thousand times. As I know these things, I also know the truth of what he said; the certainty. I was something like that. It’s the reason I can heal his heart when he’s sad--send gold into him and soothe him. That was something I could do long ago, can do now again because our souls are close once more, and they remember each other, even if we didn’t at first.

That’s all I know. But I can feel that this is just a tip of it. Just the first part of knowing. Be patient, Kenzie Lou. All things come in time. All you can do now is wait. And she knew it was true.

Kenzie slowly slid her fingers down onto Duncan’s serene, stubbled cheek; she hovered just over his mouth now, and whispered softly.

“Dunny, baby, wake up…”

Duncan stirred, his head cocking up, to the side--he made a tiny, sweet sound, like a sigh, and then his eyes (white-blue sapphires) opened to her; she saw the immediate recognition in them, the confusion there washed away almost instantly, the calmness in him to behold her.

“Kenzie, I was making snow,” he murmured, his hands drifting up to grasp her at her hips, and she smiled at him, puzzled.

“Making snow, huh?”

“Mhmm.” He pulled her down to him, back into the warm cocoon of his arms; Kenzie’s cheek pressed into the soft skin that peeked from his collar and she let herself be drawn into the comfort of his embrace again. “I was in front of a fire, facing four men at a table. Anchaly was there, and so was Ben Wilder,” and Duncan laughed a little, his voice still tinged with sleep. “That’s dream logic I guess. I didn’t recognize the other two men...one had glasses, one had a short beard, dark eyes. I’ve never seen them before.”

“And you were making snow in front of a fire?”

“Yeah. The man with the dark eyes said change the weather inside this room, and turn the water into snow. So I did. I stood in front of the fire and lifted my hands into the air--I told the air to change. And it did. It started to snow. I was so happy--it was so lovely, Kenz. They laughed and said beautiful, beautiful--and then I heard your voice. I heard you calling to me, and I woke up.”

“I had a dream too,” she whispered against him, and Duncan’s arms drifted down the smoothness of the little dress she wore. She felt her skin prickle and hum under his fingers; remembered the graceful movements of her own hands, lifting the butterflies she’d made from rose petals into the air. “Zadie and Candice were in my dream, that’s so funny that you had people you recognize in yours too--and it’s odd--I was sitting with these other girls, and Zadie wanted us to change these roses we were holding. Change their color, I mean. And I did, I changed mine from white to blue; blue because it reminded me of you.”

She felt Duncan’s hands drifting down further still. Suddenly she felt hot, flushed--his fingers pressed under the hem of the dress, against the bottom dip of her ass, sore from his attentions earlier. She wondered what the bruises there were like now. His face was turning to her as she spoke, his eyes focusing in hers--she could see that strangely white, ethereal glow again, as though the moon were trapped inside the depth of blue. The white is the hidden aspect of you, she thought, like the moon turning behind a shadow. It’s the magic inside of you.

“Reminded you of me, huh?” His lips hovered over hers, his hands pressing up further against her ass, making her arch at the sensitivity there, and higher, along the fragile lift of her hip bone.

“Uh huh,” she whispered. “And then I turned them into butterflies. Isn’t that lovely? I thought about your love--how much you love me. And I made the petals into butterflies.”

“That’s beautiful, baby. That’s such a lovely dream. Can I kiss you, Princess?” She turned her jaw up, teasingly, away from his mouth--his lips dipped to hover in the space below her ear, not quite touching down, waiting for her reply. She leaned up into him, letting her breasts press up into his collarbones, eliciting a low moan from him; “...please, Princess Kenzie.” The night air was drifting against them again, the wind having stirred once more. His hair fell onto his forehead--his eyes burned for her, for me alone, she knew.

“Yes. Kiss me.”

He fell against her; his mouth was a supple devotion, salty-sweet and wet for her, wet with need. The depth of his desire was immediate, intense; his hands came to the slender straps at her shoulders, forcing them down with demanding strength as his tongue slipped between the smoothness of her teeth, coiling around hers, lifting back with anticipation, driving forward into her once again. Kenzie let out a low moan--she couldn’t hold back, couldn’t stave off the golden spiral that was stirring in her belly, licking in tendrils to her sore, hot sex. He was pushing the fabric of the dress away, pushing the cups of the bikini top down--Duncan slid down from her mouth and his burning, full lips closed over her nipple, hard and straining in the meandering air. Duncan sucked, flicking his tongue out to coil around her, so hot and wet Kenzie jerked up into him, crying out, then she heard her want falling out of her, like an obscene, Bacchanalian song.

“I wanna suck on you,” she whispered, loving the exigent heat of him on her breast, lost in it, opening her eyes to the stars, their glory urging her on inside her want. “I want you to fuck my mouth, baby. Please. I’m hungry for you.”

“Fuck, Kenzie, baby--”

“I mean it. Come here so I can get you hard for me. Do as I say.”

“Kenzie, angel, fuck, you know I’m already hard for you--”

“Then I’m gonna make you harder. Fuck my mouth.”

He was shivering now, shaken by her demanding tone, she knew; hopelessly aroused with it, straining to resist. She reached up, gripping his jaw, pulling him down to her, roughly devouring his mouth for an aching, unbearable moment, letting the wetness of the saliva gathering on her tongue graze into him, my mouth is wet for you, baby, wet for your needy cock, and then she pushed him up, away from her lips, staring into his eyes, tightening her fingers, a choke of supplication escaping his throat.

“Who do you belong to, baby?” she whispered.

“Ung, Kenzie, you, angel baby, divine angel, you, you know I do--”

“Fuck. My. Mouth.”

She let go of him at that, propping herself up on her elbows now, facing him, expectant. Duncan nodded, his eyes drifting closed in an overwhelmed stupor, the sleep having vanished from his face; he leaned up, the quilt falling away from him, his eyes fixated on the bareness of her breasts where he’d pushed the dress and her bikini down around her waist as he pushed the soft waistband of his shorts down, his thick, hardening cock falling free. Kenzie nodded, grinning at him.

“That’s it, baby. Come here.” She glanced down at her little breasts, suggestively, batting her eyelashes at him; put your cock between my breasts, baby, hold them together, fuck me there, wet me with your tongue--and she saw his eyes flash, long white-silver inside the brilliant blue, and he was leaning down to her, pressing his mouth with unbearably intense sweetness to her heart, laving his tongue out, slickly wet and hot, leaving streaks of moisture in the incline of her chest, glistening in the starlight, the hazy moonlight. Then he was leaning back, bucking his hips up toward her, pressing his cock to the wetness he’d left on her, and Kenzie dipped her head to him with hasty need, sucking his length into her lips, making him gasp--she slid down so he fell further into her throat, then lifted away, and Duncan was leaning his hips between her breasts, his achingly lovely fingers coming under, into their whiteness, covered in goosebumps at his touch. His cock slid down between them and he pushed both of her breasts against his length--Kenzie lowered her lips to the head of his cock again, smiling against it for a moment, then taking it into her mouth, gathering more wetness from the back of her throat; then Duncan was jerking his hips up into her, his mouth falling open in a beautiful abandon that made her feel faint.

I love your big fucking hands, baby, she thought, letting her eyes flutter closed, knowing he was watching her. I love your big fucking beautiful hands on me, spanking me, choking me, gripping me so tightly, leaving the bruises of your affections on me, fuck, I love it so, I love you, there’s nothing like the heat, the sweetness of your hands on me, leave bruises on my breasts, leave the marks of your fingertips on my soft skin--she let herself gag a little on his length, let her eyes roll back, knowing it would drive him to the edge, and felt a satisfied thrill as he groaned, loudly, into the night air, his hips shuddering against her nipples.

“Unnh, baby, Kenzie--” and she dipped lower, taking more of him, insistent, feeling the tips of his fingers digging into the supple, round softness of her. That’s it, baby. You belong to me, your body, your soul. If you know of my divinity--if I must accept it too, if I must find a way to live inside this knowledge while also being human, know that you belong to me--know that as you’re mine, entirely, supplicant to me, I am also yours entirely--and together we are infinitely lovely, intensely divine, my divinity made greater by you--as I give myself to you, give yourself to me: as only you can.

She pulled up from him, her tongue lingering on his smooth head, flicking into the hole there, and another long, pained groan leaked out from his lips.

“Can I please fuck you, Princess?” he moaned, and she giggled against him; oh I fucking love that too, Dunny, baby. I love it when you beg me, my lofty Prince of Shadows. My fair Hades on his high throne, begging me. Bowing to me.

“Only if you call me those beautiful names again,” she whispered, fluttering her eyelashes to him again, lifting her gaze up, staring into him, her tongue flicking out against him again. “Those beautiful divine names.”

“Goddess of the Golden Bower,” he breathed, and pulled away from her mouth; Kenzie let out a little whimper of longing. Come back to me.

“Princess Kenzie, please, let me fuck you now.” I long for the sweetness of our bodies together that way. I long for it always, but under this moon and these stars, I’m aching for you. If your blue butterflies are for me, the snow I made, shrouded in golden firelight, was all for you. “High Princess of the Garden of All Delights. Fuck, baby, I wonder what that place is. The Garden of All Delights. Doesn’t that sound beautiful? And you’re the High Princess of it. That’s only right--” and he was dipping his mouth down against hers again, his hands clutching her up into him, pressing under her shoulder blades, against the soft skin under her arms. “--you are the High Princess, aren’t you? The Princess of all Angels, I’m sure of it, I’m sure you are--”

“Ugh-hh, fu-uck, Duncan, baby--” Kenzie’s cheeks felt unbearably sensitive and soft where he kissed them, the memory of her sobbing tears still fresh there (tears of disbelief--I still can’t believe any of this, it still has to be a dream, how can I be divine, how can that be, blue flowers, blooming in your eyes, beloved, you must be the one who’s divine), but Duncan continued to press into her with insistence, his mouth a devout rose bud blooming onto her, her breath catching sharply inside his concentrations. She reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it (the second time today, baby, the third time in the throes of your need, and fuck, I don’t care, I want you again, I always do) as he worked her dress and the bikini further down, slipping his fingers into the waistband of the bottom at her hips--she slid out under his hands, amazed by the strength in them as she ever was, and his fingers were easily pushing her clothes away, which stood no chance against his urgency.

Now they were both naked (wonderfully, blessedly naked, naked but for my diamond moon and our ever-present golden tethers, the sweetness of this balmy night on our skin, and I’m stunned by your touch over and over, my wild wine god)--Duncan’s head dipped down, his curls trailing along the shivering mound of Kenzie’s stomach as his mouth kissed, adamant, at her abdomen--then pressed, immediate, tasting, at her clit, his tongue flat on her, drifting back and forth--then Duncan arched up and pushed her legs apart as far as he could, with a harsh movement that made her breath catch, suddenly frozen, in her throat; that’s it, fucking fuck me and she was murmuring as his mouth fell on hers again, his knees between her legs now.

“Yes, baby, yes, uhhh, Duncan, yes--” and Kenzie wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder as he pushed into her, as far as he could, his hardness making her gasp again, gasp with immediate tears, and goddess, this beautiful night feels so fucking good, like it’s kissing every inch of me--helping you kiss me because your mouth can’t be everywhere at once, though I wish it could, I wish, baby, I wish--and Kenzie felt as though they were some wild god and goddess in some wild, mounted, hidden place, where only gods could reach, only divinity could escape to; you and me, my exalted love, and she felt his bluish affections inside her, felt his agreement, his approval of her imaginings--yes, Kenzie, only me and you, only us in a secret bower, the Garden of All Delights where only we can go, this place is our own garden right now, our own hidden Eden--

“God, baby, fucking you like this, under the stars--” he was whispering into her ear, his panting breath making her feel terribly close to the edge, weak with the threat of her orgasm, dizzy with the wave of his desire for her, “the most beautiful night, and no one here but us, and those beautiful dreams, and you, the most beautiful of all, my Kenzie--” and she was arching up against him, trying to hold back, but Duncan pressed his mouth to her neck and bit down into it, harshly, insistent to leave a mark--I know you want to, I feel it, Dunny, you want to leave a mark, more marks on my soft skin because I’m yours--and his fingers were dipping into the tininess of the space between their quivering stomachs as he pressed his thick, burning cock up into her, sending her senses reeling into dark, verdant shadows, rubbing at the sodden space between her legs, insistently coaxing her towards what she wanted so much but was desperate to prolong for just a little longer--she could feel him, the cool swirl of his emotion, already sad for the inevitable moment their bodies would part again, and Kenzie clutched at his cheeks, her thumb dipping to his mouth, lost in the beauty of his expression, the heavy half-lidded ecstasy of his eyes, the way his mouth hung open to her, his breath coming against her in lovely labors, each one a prayer to her.

She could feel the sweat that had begun to tether her hair to the back of her neck, against her temples and the dip of her jaw--could see the moisture glinting in the darkness on his forehead, in the dip of his clavicle, along his wide shoulders. “That’s it, baby,” he moaned into her, his eyes incandescently sincere, so lovely in this shade she wanted to laugh or scream or cry against him, “I’ll work you out again and again, Princess, I always will, I can’t stand to be away from you, not ever--there’s nothing that feels as perfect as this to me, nothing as perfect as your sweet little body against mine, fu-fuck, I never want it to end, you and me under these fuu-cking stars, divine Kenzie, under this moon, in this heat--I love you, fucking marry me, will you please marry me, Mackenzie, goddess, sweetest of all beings, I love you--will you marry me?”

She was laughing immediately--the moon had fallen outside of its wisping clouds again, and it seemed to be kissing them. Blessing us, she thought. The moon is giving us its blessing. Your timing is perfect, my sweet love. And I will. I fucking will.

“Fuck, yes, fu-uu-ck, goddess, yes, I fucking will, Duncan, yes,” she gasped into him, and now they were both laughing, the gold in her clashing into his sweet, starry blue, her mouth kissing down onto his face, kissing his eyelids, eternal protectors of his impossibly blue eyes, and the bridge of his beautiful straight nose, his trembling lips, his damp cheeks, damp with his sweat and tears--we can just die now, she thought, die in each other’s arms and then this moment will extend into eternity, and it’s enough, it’s more than enough, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted, to be seen by you so utterly, to feel the safety of my heart enshrined in you, you, you, my beautiful Prince, my evening star, you picked the perfect moment--truly, the most perfect moment--and as they came together, lips hopelessly entwined, smiling through tears of holy, astonished bliss, she thought, eyes to heaven, stars, sing, fucking sing for us--if I’m an angel, I have my wings again, made of a thousand blue butterflies.  They’re you. You’re my wings, Duncan Shepherd. 

------

The moon was dipping lower southwest by the time they gathered the blanket and quilt up, dressed between ardent, sleepy kisses, piled the remnants of their dinner on the tray, and made their way back up the sloping hill towards the house. The sky had clouded over more than before; it was clear for us, just for that amount of time, our stargazing, our enchanted sleep, our desperate passion, and the perfect moment--so wonderfully, desperately perfect--for him to ask me to belong to him as I knew he wanted to, for him to ask to belong to me, Kenzie thought, drifting against him with tired steps, her head brushing into his arm, his face leaning down to rest against the top of her head as their fingers tangled together, golden bracelets touching; she could feel his own tiredness, feel his longing to hold her entwined in his arms and sleep with her, long, lost, and gone from the world in the golden-soft bed.

As they came over the crest of the hill to the line of trees, Kenzie could see the fire pit still burning; the hickory logs were half gone now, the fire bluish-gold and black-tangerine. “You made a good fire, baby,” she whispered to him, staring up at his shoulder; Duncan smiled at her, sleepy, sincere, lovely beyond all words she could imagine inside this moment.

“I’m so happy, Kenzie,” he replied, his voice sweetly low--Kenzie longed for the moment they would collapse into the bed soon as she heard it, her mind already fixated on their sleep, the quiet halo of his arms and the scent of him in the dark bedroom. “That’s why the fire came out of me so bright--my body is full of it. The fire you’ve built inside me. Mackenzie Shepherd.”

Kenzie grinned at that, stepping ahead of him onto the deck, setting the tray down. “That’s gonna take some getting used to,” she replied. “It still sounds like Annette to me.”

“Well, Momby said herself, it’s not the name--it’s what you do with it.”

“Dunny,” Kenzie’s breath caught and she paused, turning to him. He was still holding the blankets in his arms, standing at the bottom of the steps, and his hair was tossed by their passions, by sweat and sleep. He’s so beautiful inside this moment; his goodness is shining out of him, glowing. I can see your halo now too, my sweet Hades--the one you kept hidden for so long. “You called her Momby. Oh. I love that so much. She’ll cry. She loves you so much, Duncan. Momby loves you so much. She’s going to fucking scream when we tell her.”

“And I love her. I figured--since she’ll really be my mother-in-law now--that she’ll give me her blessing to use her real name.”

“She definitely will. You don’t need to ask. Just wait till you see her face when she hears you call her Momby. Oh, baby--”

She stepped to him, desperate to feel him--clutched his face, the prickle at his jaw.

“I love you, Duncan Malcolm Shepherd.”

“As I love you, Mackenzie Louise Shepherd.”

I dunno, she thought, as Duncan’s lips lifted up to hers, where she hovered above him on the steps, on his kiss the sweet scent of woodsmoke, salt, and jasmine. I think I like it. I really do. Mackenzie Shepherd.

“Let’s try it together this time, baby.” Kenzie pulled one of the quilts from his arms, tucking it between her elbows against her stomach, and grasped his hands. “Let’s move to the bedroom right now. I wanna see if we can do it while we’re touching. Like this.”

A gleeful curiosity came into Duncan’s eyes, and he nodded. “Ready?”

“Ready for anything, baby.”

Kenzie closed her eyes; she focused on the comforting, constant pressure of Duncan’s large hands holding hers, the ever-gentle reassurance of his body close by. Let’s go to bed, she thought, and she felt his mind meld against hers--the thread of him, tied around her. Yes, sweet Kenzie. To bed.

The air shifted--the sweet smell of the hickory wood, the lifting night, the sweet grass dissipated--and then there was only the sound of the wind drifting, slight, against the gauzy curtains, and spring peepers out on the lake, very far off. Kenzie opened her eyes. Duncan was smiling at her; the smile of an angel. Where is your crown of flowers, my sweet Prince of Heaven, she thought. Here you are, unshrouded, radiant.

“We did it,” he whispered. He dropped the blanket from under his arm to a heap on the floor--gathered her up against him, pulling the quilt away from her--and carried her to the bed, his arms lifting her as though she were made of the soft blankets herself, easily, so sweetly, with a tenderness that brought a drifting, tingling contentment along her entire body, from the tip of her head to the bottom of her toes; hold me, beloved, forevermore. Duncan buried his face against her, and she knew they wouldn’t need to speak any more words out loud tonight. We did it--you and me. We moved through space and time. Together. Because it’s this love that brought all this magic into our lives. Everything else flows out from this love.

A little while later, their faces was washed, their teeth brushed, and they were naked, wiped clean of sweat and the residue of their come with damp cloths. Her back was pressed against his warm, bare torso in the golden-soft bed, his hand clasped in hers between her breasts, and Kenzie lay listening to the soft sound of Duncan’s measured, dreaming breath, feeling the tickle of it on her neck, and the gentle pulse of his heartbeat between her shoulders. She could sense that sunrise was not far off as she drifted away to sleep, inside the haven of his arms. Something’s coming tomorrow, she knew. But she wasn’t afraid; she welcomed it. Come destiny. Come. We’re ready.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

Billie Catherine Lourd for Bello magazine.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 20 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: MILESTONEEEEE I’ve made it to Part 20! Loved writing Kenzie finally dreaming about the interrogation between Michael and Mallory at Outpost 3 (imo the best AHS scene of all time--I studied it carefully to write that part and WHEW do I love that scene, the birth of Millory!!!). I mentioned this in an ask recently, but I see Duncan as the Michael who chose the path of light, and Michael as the Duncan that chose darkness--I believe the duality of human nature is all about autonomous choice, and thus the Outpost Michael Kenzie sees has lost his nature of goodness, therefore has lost his “Duncanness” to her. She forgets that he called her “Mallory” upon waking, but she’ll hear the name again and be puzzled by it. The way Duncan helps Kenzie breathe is the real breathing technique to help comedown from hyperventilation--breathe in slowly through your nose, count to three, breathe out from pursed lips, repeat. The pomegranate smoothie is something like this recipe. Y’all know I had to reference this at some point. Lindy and Gabby are the ones who started DUCKENZIEFANS.com--they’re both high schoolers (they’re 16), and they--and their fan club/website--will show up again. I based Kenzie’s cool demeanor with them on the many videos people have taken of Keanu Reeves being lovely and polite to fans (I’m a huge Keanu fan)--the paps are going to start to notice how lovely Kenzie is to people, start picking up on her aura, so to speak, and it will have an effect on how they behave around her. Ben is my Billy Porter/Behold AU, as I’ve mentioned, and irl he is a married gay man and an outspoken advocate for LGBTQ+ rights--he’s done a lot of work with GLAAD, so it seemed fitting to make that his charity of choice. A reminder that the black tulle geometric lingerie looks like this. Ben’s glasses. His wine-colored blazer. His rose pin. Kenzie’s blouse. Kenzie’s skirt. Kenzie’s shoes. Duncan’s shirt. I listened to this remix of Lana del Rey’s BLUE JEANS a lot while I edited this part, it has a Duckenzie cosmic vibe. @neonlacrima made the most beautiful aesthetic moodboard for my fic and posted it today, please go give her love for it, I’m DYING over it. @deanfinite made one too, here, that I’ve been losing my mind over for days. The Duckenzie love is real, y’all, and I FUCKING FEEL IT.

Kenzie was dreaming again.

Duncan was kneeling before her. Duncan, but...not Duncan. The man kneeling in front of her had Duncan’s face--his blue eyes, though these were strangely dark and she could not see his soul behind them--his beautiful mouth and straight nose and chiseled jaw, but he had long, flowing golden hair--Duncan’s hair is coppery brown, like autumn leaves, waving down around his ears, falling back from his face, Kenzie thought in the dream--not knowing she was dreaming, but knowing that it was him, and also not him. And this man, who was Duncan, her beloved, and also not her Duncan, not her beloved: darkness coiled around him, thick like smoke--redness hovered around his eyes and he was dressed all in black, and this other Duncan, this dark Duncan, frightened her to the pit of her being. She smelled burnt ash and sharp, sickly sweetness, like the center of an overripe fruit. He smelled like destruction to her--like the end of something, like the end of everything. My Duncan doesn’t smell like that, she thought, a terrible chill in her mind. He smells like the woods in the rain and the sweetness of jasmine and summer grasses coming down as the light fades. You are not my Duncan. You are a shade of him, another side of him, one that does not exist in this world, and she still did not know she was dreaming, but she did know that, knew it, and knew she was inside the self that sat in front of his man, but was also outside of that self, as if she were looking over her own shoulder. The man was reaching out for her face, his other hand hovering on her knee, and the pressure of his hands filled her with sickly fear--you aren’t my Duncan, you really aren’t my Duncan, because his touch is healing to me, in his touch I can feel the fibers of his soul and it’s like sweet kisses on my skin, kisses full of tenderness, full of his love for me and your touch is not his, your touch is like death, your touch chills my soul to the core.

“You’re afraid,” this other Duncan was saying, “aren’t you? Of accepting who you are.”

“I don’t know who I am,” she heard herself say.

“What do you mean?” She felt caught in his gaze; as cold as ice, as harsh as a terrible blaze, a gaze that she could see none of her Duncan’s love inside--a gaze that wanted to consume only, devour only, rend, ravage. She heard herself speak again--as if she was only able to listen to herself--as if this other Kenzie was from the past, or the future, or some other Kenzie altogether, her doppleganger with a different mind entirely. “Sometimes, I feel like there’s someone buried inside me, trying to claw their way out.”

“Who?” The man’s hand was hovering at her chin now--not my Duncan, no, not him, this man is dark, he is Darkness Itself, he is the Beast, and she heard her other self say “I don’t know, I just wanna go--” and felt herself--her other self--stand and try to run away from the man--the man came after her and Kenzie’s heart went into her throat (no not him not him YOU ARE NOT HIM) and that other man with Duncan’s face grasped her arm and she heard herself say let me go and he said “Don’t be afraid, Mallory, I’m offering you a chance to live--”

And then she felt hot fire, heat so bright and so golden and so vast like the entirety of the sun and she thought YOU ARE NOT HIM DON’T TOUCH ME TAKE HIS FACE OFF IT’S NOT YOURS YOU TOOK HIM WHERE IS HE WHERE DID YOU TAKE HIM and Kenzie heard her other self scream this time, scream “I SAID LET ME GO--” and the fire, the sun of the feeling surged out of her, like the way she pushed her love and her feelings and thoughts into Duncan but this time it was charged, a thousand times stronger, a feeling so vast it felt as though it would rend her mind in two and something exploded, a fire burning behind them burst and extended and licked around the man and he staggered back from her, his face a mask of utter shock.

The room went dark, the fire snuffed--then the man with Duncan’s face rose from where he’d been knocked back, his golden hair tossed around his face, his expression full of wondrous awe, anger, and incredulence, his eyes inside hers. He advanced on her; his face became a terrible white mask, monstrous, distorted--and Kenzie felt herself, that other self that was her and not her, pull the golden sunlight, the energy made of wild, powerful brilliance, out towards him again, her fear floating away from her for a moment that felt like an eternity, and the fire flared up and was rekindled, swelling around him, forcing him to retreat once more, and Kenzie knew she was doing it, that it was her power that forced him back.

He lifted his face to her again, the veneration in it even more pronounced, the white monstrous pallor having disappeared from it, and Kenzie thought she saw a flash of Duncan finally in his eyes--a flicker of light, a spasm of his loveliness, his love, then it was gone. “Who are you?” His voice had lowered from its haughty cruelty, and was now tinged with astonishment. More like Duncan’s voice.

“I don’t know. Who are you?” Kenzie looked into the other Duncan’s eyes--I saw you for a moment there, my love, I saw you trapped inside him as though buried beneath the terrible weight of the crushing earth. Then the cold hand of fear gripped her heart again, and Kenzie felt herself, that other self, run from him as though there were ravenous wolves on her heels--

-------

She was coming back, resurfacing from a pool of dark water, and felt someone shaking her, shaking her arms and touching her face with a sweet, warm hand, a hand that she knew was Duncan’s before she even opened her eyes because she could feel the calm and the relief and the love in it, flowing into her, even while she was still drifting up from that dream, from the dark pool, from the other self she had been inside--and then her eyes snapped open and she was staring into his face, worry-creased, his blue eyes so earnest, Duncan was saying something but she couldn’t hear him at first then her hearing came back in a rush and she watched his lips (my Duncan, his eyes, his mouth, his warm and soothing hands, oh god, he took you away from me, he had destroyed you, my beloved, he had taken you away from me) and he said again “Kenzie, baby, Kenzie, wake up, you’re dreaming, you’re dreaming, it’s not real--”

Then she was jerking up and her breath shuddered out, and she gasped, harshly, and she felt the hot tears on her face, and Duncan’s hands were on her cheek and at her waist and the fear in his eyes shook her, shook her into intense relief, so intense she thought she might faint with it--”Oh god, baby, he didn’t take you, he didn’t take you away from me--you’re here, you’re okay, you’re here--your eyes, your soul--” and she burst into a sob that made her shoulders wrack forward into him and Duncan’s hands were in her hair as she cried, her face pressed into that space under his arm, her space, where she fit, where she’d been cut away from him, long ago at the beginning.

“Kenzie, Kenzie, baby love, everything’s okay, everything’s alright, you’re at home in our bed and I’m here, whatever was in your dream--it was just a dream baby, it’s not real--I love you, it’s okay, you’re okay--” she closed her eyes against him, hot tears coursing down her cheeks, lost in the soft whisper of his mouth at her ear, the feeling of his hands in her hair, his large body cradling her into his lap, and she breathed in--not the ash and rotten fruit of her dream, oh thank you, gods, Fates, thank you, he smelled like sandalwood and his jasmine soap and the musky earth-smell of him and Kenzie sobbed again, lost in his consolation, lost in the reality of him, the dream fading, that man made of Darkness Itself fading from her mind, bleeding out into the edges of her consciousness, mercifully. After awhile, she quieted, breathing him into her, breathing in the love she could feel coming off him in waves into her, and her heartbeat slowed, and Duncan was shushing into her hair, and saying “baby, it’s okay, baby, you’re okay, angel, Kenzie, shhhh, it’s okay,” and his hand was brushing the tears from her cheeks, the warmth of it, the shape of it soothing the harshness, the redness, the salty sting.

“Dunny--that dream--you were someone else, you were--a man with your face--”

“It wasn’t me, Kenzie, it wasn’t me. I’m here. It was a dream. I’m here. Your Duncan. I’m right here. I love you. I love you and you’re safe, you’re at home, you’re with me.”

“That man, he was so dark--he was evil--he was like a black hole in the void that sucked everything into it and howled in the face of the deep, serpent, the destroyer--” for a moment, it was as if someone else was speaking through Kenzie’s voice and she lost herself in the flow of her fearful words, then crashed back into herself, still babbling--”he scared me so much, it was like he had eaten you and was wearing your face, like you were screaming inside him--fuck, Duncan, oh fuck--he grabbed me and his hands were like a burning brand and I made the fire explode, I was so afraid and angry and confused--I don’t--” her breathing had risen back to a frenzied panting, and Kenzie gasped, hyperventilating, darkness at the edges of her vision.

“Shhhh, baby, shhhh, breathe, okay? Breathe slow, just breathe, in and out, watch me.” Duncan closed his mouth and breathed in through only his nose--he nodded at her slowly, holding onto her waist carefully and very tenderly, and Kenzie closed her mouth, watching him, mimicking the rise of his body, breathing in--she held her breath as he did, and he nodded to her again, holding up a finger--then one more--and a third, then they breathed out at the same time, Kenzie mimicking the way he pursed his lips as they did, and his hands rubbed gently at her waist, against her little pink satin pyjamas, the ones he got for me, soothing. “Good, baby, that was perfect, one more time--” and Kenzie and Duncan both breathed in carefully once more, and Kenzie felt the low, drifting calm of her mind float down against him, pushing the fear and the anxiety away--she could feel the golden bursts of his love flowing over her, waves of his affection in the sunlight over the bed, feel the warm convergence of his thoughts, tinged with fear for her, swirling around the corners of her mind. Kenzie, I love you. Kenzie, I’m here, no one will take me away from you, I won’t let anyone take me away from you. Feel me and look into my eyes. I’m here.

“Mom taught me to breathe like that, a long time ago,” Duncan’s voice was very quiet, soothing into her ear, his hands trailing up and down her body, around her arms and back and forth, feeling at the rise and fall of her, his head dipped down against her, the smell of him almost medicinal to her now--soothingly shielding her from the dream, pulling her away from it, and Kenzie was happy to leave it, happy to let it slip away, anxious to forget it. “I used to have panic attacks when I was little, over the paps following us around and taking pictures of me, I used to burst into tears and scream at them, and she taught me to breathe carefully like that--taught me to come down from my anger and just breathe.”

“Momby always told me to breathe, too…” Kenzie’s voice was a tiny whisper now, and she felt another wave of golden love fall over her like rain from Duncan’s tall, large body holding her against him, enveloping her, holding her at the side of the big dark-sheeted bed. My beloved, my One, my Duncan, oh god, I thought you were gone. “I can’t--that dream, baby--that nightmare--”

“It wasn’t real, Kenz. It wasn’t. Nobody will take me away from you. I won’t let them.”

Kenzie couldn’t keep a little whimpering sigh from escaping her lips--she let her eyes fall up the sunbeam that fell over the bed--daylight, not firelight, no fire--and lifted out of his arms now. He was gazing down at her, that terrible tenderness in his eyes, my Duncan, here he is, right here, right here with me, and he’s gonna go to work with me today, Ben’s gonna interview him, and more relief washed over her and she sniffed hard, willing her hidden tears back. The memory of last night was coming back to her now, too--making dinner together, strapping her body with nervous, shaking fingers into the tulle lingerie, his passionate kisses all over her body, buckling the choker around her neck and twisting her wrists into the velvet trappings, fucking her so achingly hard, their passion so needy, staring into each other with soul-shattering lust in their beautiful mirror--and the way he’d brought her a little bowl of green tea ice cream after because she’d asked for it, and they’d spooned it into each other’s mouths, kissing each other slowly and carefully between, their lust hazy and low by then, and she’d savored the way he’d looked at her as she licked the silver spoon in his hand, and they’d laid here in bed for a little while after, just holding each other quietly, until she’d begun to drift off into sleep--and Duncan had woken her softly to lead her to the bathroom where she washed her face and brushed her teeth and hair and soothed a damp wipe between her legs from a drawer under the long, spotless counter of the sink--she’d watched him do the same around his cock, wiping the residue of their combined rapture away, and had shivered, hands reaching out to him, and he’d pressed his lips against her forehead.

Kenzie could feel the soreness in her body now that she was coming back from the nightmare, coming back from the dulling of her senses inside that other place; her ass ached where he’d penetrated her and come deep inside her, and ached where he’d left redness smattered across her buttocks, and she could feel the raw wetness inside her cunt where the memory of his needy cock still lingered, the ache at her clit from his fingers and the egg and the incessant pressing there. But she didn’t mind--the soreness reminded her she was back here, in reality, in his arms, reminded her of the ardor between them last night and her ecstasy inside it, and that the dream hadn’t been real after all; that her fear inside it was unfounded.

“Do you want some water, baby?” Duncan spoke down into her softly, again, as she drifted in his arms, lost in her thoughts.

“Uh huh, please, baby. Can I have a coffee too, please? I’m okay now. I promise, I’m okay.”

Duncan stared at her for a little longer, as if to be sure, and then nodded at her. “I’ll be right back, okay? Just breathe like I told you if you feel upset again.” He kissed her, hand in her hair, then eased out of her arms--he was in just his briefs, the way he seemed most comfortable in sleep, and Kenzie couldn’t help but stare at his back as he walked away--the fall of his wavy hair on the back of his neck, the outline of his shoulder blades, the ripple of muscle in his arms, and the rise of his ass under the briefs, the thickness of his thighs, the fine hair on his legs. He is so beautiful. He really is. He’s like a statue come to life--almost too beautiful to be real, but he is. Kenzie sat there on the bed, feeling dazed, the dream still drifting at the edges of her psyche--but the sick, icy-hot feeling the man had given her, the fierce burning of the fire she’d kindled in her mind, and the panic at not being able to find Duncan--not being able to see him in the man with his face--were melting away. But these fucking dreams, Kenzie thought, troubled, remembering the ones she’d had over the past few days--Claire choking, the one where she was in the bathtub, the one where she brought a dead deer back to life--and Duncan’s dreams too, the one where she was dying, or the one where he was dying as she hovered over him (your hair was dark, you called me Michael, he’d said, she’d looked different--the way the dark man had had his face), or seeing her as an angel, with actual wings, comforting him--I was dark, he had said, your touch was healing.

We started having them after we met each other. Maybe we’re just really stressed by everything and our nerves are heightened lately...or...maybe it’s something else…

Kenzie got up from the bed, her tiredness eking away with the details of the dream--I don’t know who I am, she remembered herself (or that other self who was her but not her) saying, and then she thought of the way she and Duncan could hear each other’s thoughts sometimes--she stared at herself in the long mirror and was struck again with the feeling that it had always belonged to her, and she thought of Duncan dreaming that she was an angel. Maybe all of it does mean something. If the universe can help me find my Soulmate--and I’m really starting to believe it did--maybe it’s trying to tell us something else. Or show us something. Or...something. Maybe I don’t know who I am. Maybe there’s a whole other part of me I don’t know about.

Kenzie went to the closet--the silky black kimono Duncan had gotten her with the other things from Agent Provocateur was hanging near the front of her side. She’d put it there yesterday when she’d had the penthouse to herself--and had carefully hung the black lingerie beside it, to wear at a later date. Her tulle white lingerie from last night was on hangers lined up in the laundry room off the side of the living room, and she’d left a note on them for the housekeepers--I’ll wash these by hand myself, thank you. Kenzie was trying to get used to the idea of other people cleaning her living space for her, but there were some things she simply wouldn’t allow. Someone else washing my sex-stained lingerie by hand is one of them. Kenzie pulled the kimono down, sliding it over her shoulders and wrapping it around her waist; the lace fell beautifully around her thighs, and Kenzie looked down at herself with delight, pushing her hair behind her ears from where it had fallen into her eyes. My baby got this for me, and it’s so beautiful. I’ve always wanted something like this. Kenzie moved out of the closet and into the living room, where her eyes immediately fell on the coffee table with her roses and peonies--the roses were drooping quite noticeably now beside the other fresh flowers, and Kenzie lifted the Waterford vase up to bring it into the kitchen. Duncan was standing by his Keurig, waiting for a second cup of coffee to filter into it as he threw fruit into his Vitamix--hers was on the obsidian island, a tall glass of filtered water beside it.

“I was making you a smoothie,” he said as she came up behind him, and he turned to her, smiling. “Anything in particular you want in it?”

“I trust you, baby.”

Kenzie went up on her tip-toes and kissed him (he tastes like berries, she thought, noticing the open carton of blackberries on the counter beside him), admiring the way his hair fell down over his forehead as he leaned down to her; admiring his wide bare shoulders, the stubble ever-present on his chiseled jaw. “You’re wearing it,” he said, his smile widening, eyes flashing over her (burst of blue sky). “God, you look beautiful. I have to get you more pieces from them. One for every day at least. Do you feel any better, baby?” His hand came down the silkiness at her arm; trailed to her hand and grasped it, bringing her palm up to his mouth and kissing it, slowly, his eyes still in hers, sending a shiver down Kenzie’s spine. Last night was like a dream, but it was real, wasn’t it, baby, he thought into her, the wave strong as they touched. I worshiped you with abandon, your sweetness folding into me, your body trembling under my touch, the way you told me what to do to you, that choker around your neck, how hard I fucked you. Angel. Baby.

“Mhmm,” Kenzie breathed, bringing the hand he held up against his cheek, her thumb trailing over his lip. Duncan kissed her fingers--turned his head, closing his eyes. No, he thought into her, I’ll never get tired of kissing you, and she pushed it back towards him, I’ll never be tired of your kisses. “I feel okay now. Thanks for breathing with me, baby. That helped a lot. It was just...the way I felt in the dream, you know? Like you’d disappeared and someone else had taken over your body and that person was evil. And I was full of fear--there was another version of me there too, almost, one that didn’t know you--but I was there too, and I was full of despair.” She felt the tears in her eyes at that--wiped her cheek with a hasty hand. Duncan pulled her closer--she gripped onto his ass, only the smooth fabric of his briefs covering his sex between them--then tickled her hands up his torso and he barked with laughter, and the fear eked out of her again. How can I be sad with this beautiful boy here with me, kissing his devotions into my skin, smelling of the wild wood and the sweetness of berries.

“You better stop fucking tickling me or I’m gonna tie you up again,” he laughed down to her mouth. “I’m gonna spank you again, Princess.”

“Nuh uh, it’s my turn to spank you.” And Kenzie brought her little hand down and smacked Duncan’s ass as hard as she could, laughing and flinching away as he tried to grab her wrist. He was about to come after her around the island when his phone, sitting on the table, chimed out a text message. Kenzie ran to where her coffee sat, gripping the handle of the mug and bringing it up to her lips, sipping carefully as he picked the smooth iPhone up, grinning at him as he glared facetiously at her. “Gonna get you back for that later, baby. I’m gonna throw you over my knee for that.”

“Big talk, Mr. Shepherd,” she stuck her tongue out at him and wiggled her hips.

“Wait till later, Princess Kenzie. Still need to see you in that black set I got for you.”

He looked down at the text, then frowned. Kenzie had a good idea who it was from without needing to see it--Annette. Duncan put his phone down and turned it over.

“Your mom?”

He nodded, turning away from her back to the Vitamix, his good mood seeming to dissolve. He went to the fridge and pulled out a jug of pomegranate juice, pouring it carefully into the blender, snapping the lid and pressing the highest setting--a few seconds later the ingredients were blended perfectly, and he poured the rich magenta contents of the Vitamix into a tall tumbler, bringing it over to her, his eyes clouded.

“Is everything okay?” She leaned up to kiss him and he put the smoothie down, his hands suddenly coming up to her cheeks and pulling her into him, needy. Kenzie pressed her fingers through his, loving the richness of his smell as his tongue came against hers--she could feel a strange sadness from him now, and longed to brush it away.

“She’s angry about you moving in here, of fucking course--” he scoffed a little, then his face went soft again, soft to look at her, wistful and anxious--”I just wish she could see how extraordinary you are,” he whispered into her. “It’s so obvious. I don’t know how she can be so blindly stubborn. It hurts me to see her treat you unkindly. I hate it. I really fucking hate it.”

“Baby, it’s okay. I love you. You love me. That’s what matters.”

“Kenzie. I think you’re my Soulmate. I think you really, truly are. I think we were written in the stars. I think you’re the only person I was ever meant to be with. I do, baby. I really do. I have to tell you that,” and he looked into her eyes and Kenzie’s heart was full of him, full of the depth of everything he said, she could feel him there, pressing the invisible mouth of his soul, his blue fire, onto the invisible mouth of hers, made of golden moonshine, “It’s eating away at my heart and I have to say it. Doubtless you’ve heard me think it--and we can fucking hear each other’s thoughts, Kenz. That defies all description. That’s impossible, and yet we can. I don’t want anyone else to know about that, I want that to be our secret always--like, that’s too fucking intimate for other people, they won’t believe us and I don’t want them to ever know, I want that to be ours because I am yours entirely, Kenzie, my thoughts belong to you and so do I and nobody else can come close to you, for me, there’s only you now--and this sounds crazy to a part of me, to the Duncan I was last month--but I think we should go see a psychic, or a medium, or something like that, because I don’t understand what’s going on, but you and me and these dreams we’re having, and hearing each other’s thoughts, the Mirror, fucking everything--”

“Dunny. I can feel that you’re my Soulmate, too. I feel that too. I know that too. And when I see your thoughts I can see you beautiful soul, like the sound of rain falling at night, like sweet fire that warms me in the center of my heart and I’ll never tell anyone else about that, baby, it will always be only for me and you. I promise, baby, Duncan, I love you so--” Kenzie was speaking breathlessly into him, quietly leaning into his mouth and then he was kissing her achingly, their thoughts crashing together, strong and sweet. I love you, I love you, I love only you.

“You taste like blackberries,” she whispered, and pressed her tongue against his again, and Duncan’s hands came into her hair and buried themselves there, tangling into it deeper, pulling her head back so her chin rose and he could taste her better, could press her body into him, and Kenzie’s nerves were all on fire, the adrenaline from her dream surging back into the embrace of her lover, his grip both intensely possessive and wildly soft, my Prince who is the most beautiful of all Princes, the most divine of all the Gods, the most beloved of all Angels, Chosen and mine, mine alone.

---------

Duncan was still in the closet getting dressed as Kenzie retrieved the roses from the counter where she’d left them, lifting them out of the vase which she placed in the sink and drying the ends with a paper towel--she’d gotten a length of string from her sewing kit, now to be stowed in a cupboard towards her end of the walk-in closet, which she tied tightly around the bottom of the roses’ stems. She brought them back into the bedroom, past where she could see Duncan finishing the buttons on a textured black cotton shirt, and sliding his arms into a black blazer that was tailored almost alarmingly well--she marveled at his beauty, because it was impossible not to, no matter how often she gazed on him, feeling lost inside it, then turning away, shaking her head, dizzy with him. Kenzie had retrieved several aluminum thumbtacks from one of her various boxes of trinkets--Momby called them doodad boxes--and pressed them into the wall over the bed, wrapping the other end of the string she’s tied the roses together with around the tacks, so they hung with the petals facing earthwards, the better to dry. There. Now I won’t have to throw away any of the flowers Duncan gets for me. And our bedroom will always smell beautiful. And I’ll have my little garden, even if it’s a dead one.

Today she wore a sleeveless blouse in the palest shade of pink, with a peter pan collar and a thin black tying bow at the bosom, and a woven rust-brown skirt that fell just past her knees, which she had hitched up as she jumped on the bed, the better to reach the wall behind it. She’d put on the twisting gold bracelet she’d worn that night she and Duncan met on the balcony, fondly--but no other jewelry today. Kenzie felt nervous at the prospect of Ben interviewing Duncan--wondered if he’d be reasonable with Duncan’s request to postpone publishing it until he was officially in charge of the majority share for Shepherd Unlimited. I don’t know if I’d call Ben a reasonable person persay, she worried. He can be ruthless when he wants something, a great quality in a journalist, a not-so-great quality in someone who could potentially derail our hopes for the future. Duncan came out of the closet, adjusting his black Movado watch as he did, pushing a hand up through his wavy hair as his eyes fell on the roses, now drying upside-down.

“Now our bedroom will always smell like flowers, baby,” Kenzie murmured to him over her shoulder, her bare feet pressing into the bed, still mussed from their sleep. “I can’t bear to throw them away. They are the first flowers you ever got for me--well, besides the ones in the bathtub--and I will always love them.”

Duncan came up behind her, arms snaking around her waist, his face pressing into the side of her stomach as her arm came down around him, falling through his hair, smiling down at him from where she stood on their bed. She could see the happiness shining out of his blue (ocean on a clouded day) eyes as he turned his gaze between the hanging roses and her face--I mean it baby, she thought to him, I’ll love them forever. I’ll love you forever.

“I’ll buy you so many we’ll fill the entire wall. It’ll smell like a flower shop in here.”

“A wall of your love for me to look at every day. That sounds like heaven, baby.”

“You’re fucking heaven.” He pulled her down to him; Kenzie looked up into his face now, that glorious face (someone should paint him, the artists of the ages would claw each other in the face to paint his), then over his shoulder to the mirror that stretched and showed them in the morning light--Kenzie’s tawny hair falling down her back, Duncan’s fingers twisted in it, his face turned down to her in adoration as she looked at their reflection. For a moment, Kenzie allowed herself to imagine them as the royalty Pilar had likened them to--Hades and Persephone, Kenzie thought--a crown made of delicate gold leaves and moonstones on her head, one made of the bones of birds and dark obsidian stones around his, her blouse and skirt turning to a gown of spidery golden gossamer around her body, his dark shirt and blazer becoming a flowing cloak made of dark velvet around his shoulders. King and Queen of the Underworld, he judges the dead, I bring the breath of life. I hang the dry flowers of the land above in our bedroom, for nothing will grow in the Underworld--and though he can never be part of the common world, I can bring it to him, I can breathe life into his lungs, breathe flowers back around his heart. And so I have.

So you have, my love. She heard his thought and turned her face to him--he nodded, his eyes shining down at her, his tall frame towering over her. I heard everything. That was beautiful. My sweet Persephone, I love you more than every blossom of the spring, every growing thing that drops its heady perfume on a summer evening, more than the breath of my own body. Kiss me.

And so she did--as you have given me flowers, my love, so I will give them to you--all the flowers of my body and my soul.

------

Kenzie was delighted to see Harris again--he had rung Duncan’s bell a moment before, and as Duncan opened the long black penthouse door to receive him, Kenzie rushed up and threw her arms around the big man’s broad shoulders, dangling off him in the air suddenly like a kite flying in a gust of wind. Harris let out a little laugh, and Kenzie marveled at the way he held her up like she weighed no more than doll. He set her gently back to the earth, and Kenzie could feel Duncan’s smile on them, feel the blue flames of his mind lick against hers, his warm affection.

“I missed you,” she said up to her bodyguard, and Harris’ sepia-colored eyes were full of emotion.

“Miss Stone, I’ve agonized over what happened on Friday. In this line of work, we know things can sometimes go terribly wrong in a moment despite the most careful planning, but those scenarios are an escort’s worst nightmare. I have to apologize to you again--”

“No, Harris, you really don’t. You’re the reason I’m okay. You very well may have saved my life. I can’t thank you enough.” Kenzie grasped Harris’ huge hand, looking up into his face, her tone serious, affection and gratitude surging through her. “It’s my privilege to have you protecting me.”

“Harris, you did exactly what we hired you to do,” Duncan added. “You put your life in front of hers. You’re priceless to us and I meant what I said before, I intend to triple your salary. I can’t thank you enough.”

Harris was silent; Kenzie could see the overcome expression in his eyes--the burning tremor inside the friendliness. He only nodded a little, mouth closed, looking away from them,--Kenzie’s heart clenched, somehow knowing how close the big man with the wonderfully friendly smile was to tears, and she clutched his hand still, her fingers absolutely tiny, like a child’s, inside his--Harris’ hand was shivering in her grasp--then he said, very gently: “Miss Mackenzie, Mr. Shepherd. I’ll be waiting for you in the foyer,” and Kenzie let go of him, smiling up to him and nodding. “We’ll be there in just a minute, Harris.” She beckoned to him with her hands--Harris leaned down to her, as if she were about to whisper a secret into his ear--he had to bend quite far--and she pressed her lips to his cheek, and Kenzie thought--Harris, thank you, you are as noble as a knight protecting his queen to me, and I cherish you--and she pushed the thought into him, carefully, wondering if she could do it to anyone else, wondering if anyone else could feel something she wanted to give them the way Duncan could feel those things from her, and Kenzie watched Harris visibly shiver, his head still dipped down to her, then he straightened and his eyes were cloudy, confused, but full of warmth to her. He smiled, then--handsome, long, and then he left, and Kenzie could see that he was still shaking: this hugely tall, strong man, shaking because of her, and she knew it.

Duncan came up behind her, his arms coming around her with soft, wonderful warmth. “Baby, what did you do? What did you do to Harris? His face--he was shocked. Did you...did you think something into him?” Duncan’s mouth was at her ear, kissing with aching sensitivity, his breath sweet and the edges of his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. Kenzie sighed and leaned into him--”I tried--” he bit down on her skin, needily, his hands dipping around her breasts, and she moaned a little, arching up into the feeling of his mouth--”oh, baby, don’t leave marks on my neck--” “Too late for that, baby, you already have some from last night--some from me, some from your little rose choker, my little rose--” Duncan whispered into her, biting again, sucking--then Kenzie said “I tried--uhh, Duncan--I tried to tell him how much I cherish him, how he’s like a knight--p-protecting me, and I think he heard me, baby, I think he could hear me at least a little, I think I can push things into people--good things, lovely things, kindness, thanks, my...uhhh, baby--” and Duncan was turning her into his mouth, tasting her deeply, lifting her up into him, and Kenzie thought oh fuck work, fuck the world, I wanna just dissolve back into bed with you, fuck--and she heard him whisper back into her mind me too, Kenzie, me too, I wanna worship my goddess all day, I want to lay down my soul for you, make myself an offering to you as I worship your mouth and your body and the space between your thighs and she pushed down and away from him, their breathing heavy and harsh and drifting between them, and she laughed, “You have to stop, Dunny, we have to go to your interview now, baby, Samuel and Harris are waiting for us--” and Duncan’s hands clutched for her again, and she couldn’t bring herself to push him away again, such was the sweetness of his touch, the rightness of his hands on her body, drifting down to her thighs and the top of her ass, couldn’t deny him the golden melding of their minds as he gazed down at her, his eyes penetrating the center of her soul with their divine esteem for her.

“Fucking goddess,” he breathed. “My Persephone. My moon princess.”

“Baby, fuck--stop saying those beautiful things, we have to go--”

“I won’t, I won’t stop, I want to say every beautiful thing ever said or thought into your ears and into your mind and into the secret spaces of your soul, baby, my angel--” His mouth was dipping down the incline of Kenzie’s chin, to the soft, sensitive, delicate incline of her neck, into the dip of her collarbone (Kenzie’s breath sucked into her lungs, and she felt her heart racing terribly), down to the fabric that covered the space between her breasts, lifting her up into him effortlessly. “Baby,” she said, “god, that feels so good--I think I can make people feel happy if I try to, I can--uhh, baby--I can heal them, inside, I can give them a little part of me, a tiny bit of gold, a sliver of sunlight, and warm them, not their body, but give them peace in their--Dunny, fuck--in their--”

“You can heal people’s hearts,” he whispered, his mouth coming back up into hers, nibbling at her bottom lip, and Kenzie thought oh my fucking god, fuck me, my sweet Prince, turning me into dripping honey in your hands--”you can reach into them and heal the part of their soul that is hurting, my darling, my beloved. It’s extraordinary. You’ve healed me, and you can heal others, and I’m in awe of you.”

“I still don’t know how to do it, though--not really--how to control it--”

“You just did it, baby. You did it for Harris. If you intend to heal, if you’re trying to, I think you can do it better, stronger, but I think you can already do it without trying, without even needing to think about it,” he said, hands in her hair, and Kenzie knew he was right. I’ve healed you without thinking about it. “Dunny--I think you’ve done that for me too, though--I think you’ve healed me just by touching me, just by being near me, over and over--”

“I think I can do it too--not as well as you can, but a little, I can do it if I really try, if I really love the person--as I love you. But I think I’ve never known about it until now--I never knew, because it was hidden inside me before.” His mouth was kissing along her jaw now, his words between, his hands falling through her tawny hair over and over, sending bursts of warmth through her skin. “But I think you brought it out of me, like you opened a secret box inside me, one that was locked with a hundred impossible locks,” Duncan kissed her nose, the delicate space under her eyes, one, then the other, and the radiant happiness on his face made Kenzie want to cry, “and when you first touched me, Kenz--when you did, all of the locks immediately unwound, and my soul, my real soul--the sun that was hiding--it broke out, and you’ve brought me to life for real, Kenzie. You’ve kindled my spirit.”

“And we’ll do wonders, won’t we, Duncan. Now we will. Together, we’ll do wonders, my love.” She could feel her gold dust and his blue fire twisting around each other, could almost see them touching, the essences of both of them, imperceptible to her eyes but visible to her mind, in the early morning light, in the bright kitchen, sunlight falling across her succulents that lined the window, sunlight kissing their skin as they touched and felt each other, their bodies, their souls--

“Yes, baby. Yes, we fucking will.”

-------

Sweet, wonderful you, you make me happy with the things you do, oh, can it be so, this feeling follows me wherever I go...

Fleetwood Mac was on the BMW’s stereo again as Samuel pulled away from the curb; the back of the car was deeply cool despite the crushing heat outside today and he and Harris were chatting quietly in the front seat as the partition floated up. Kenzie was gazing at Duncan (he was wearing his Givenchy sunglasses today, the perfect wave of his hair mesmerizing her), his hand on her thigh, his gaze angled down at his phone (Instagram, and Kenzie smiled, seeing that he had her profile open, admiring the photo she’d taken last night of the dinner they’d made together--typing something, smiling--Kenzie tried to lean over his shoulder to read it, but at that moment she heard her phone trumpet a text from the inside of her Margaux satchel on the seat beside her. She pulled it out, the fingers of her other hand around his where it rested on her over her skirt, warm and sweetly heavy, and stared at the screen--Clairebear.

Clairebear: Kenzie Lou, Morgan is hard at work on your dress, it’ll be finished by Wednesday or Thursday--I’ll send you some photos soon, but make sure Duncan isn’t around when you look at them, we have to keep it a surprise!!! He’s going to lose his MIND. Morgan wanted to know if he’d be open to looking at some sketches she made for a look for him, also, can you ask him? She could work on something quickly if he could come by for measurements today or tomorrow. I think it would be amazing if you could coordinate your looks--America’s new favorite It couple DUCKENZIE have you been reading the stuff people have been posting? Everyone is OBSESSED with you two. It’s insane. Your Instagrams are the top two in trending since you posted those beach pictures over the weekend.

Kenzie saw the text bubbles that indicated Claire was writing again.

Clairebear: Here’s the article that went up this morning on BPF by the way. Then there was a link with a headline: DUNCAN SHEPHERD’S NEW BOO MACKENZIE STONE MOVES INTO HIS PENTHOUSE AFTER ONLY WEEKS OF DATING (yeah, because you found my apartment and swarmed it, Kenzie thought, with a jab of annoyance). The photo in the link was one of Kenzie’s Instagram photos--the one she’d posted of her sun and moon chimes with the long living room picture window in the background. She felt Duncan’s eyes looking at her phone over her shoulder; his large frame pressing against her back, his cheek hovering near her hair.

“Is that Claire,” he said, his lips kissing her temple. “Does she always send you the articles?”

“Not always, I don’t think. But sometimes. I’d rather hear about them from her than someone random person. And it’s not like we didn’t expect this one.”

“Better that everyone knows, they’re less likely to bother you if they know the Shepherd name is protecting you, honestly, baby. I threatened to yank their press credentials from the Gala if they didn’t stop coming around the high-rise, and that seems to have done the trick.” Duncan’s finger trailed down Kenzie’s leg, back and forth.

“Morgan wanted to know if you’d look at some sketches she drew for the Gala for you, by the way,” Kenzie said, looking up at him; he was peering at her over the top of his sunglasses, hair on his forehead, his long elegant hand clutching her leg, his clothing perfectly tailored and dark as evening. So handsome. So fucking handsome. He’s obscenely beautiful and it’s like he’s from another world. Duncan reached for her other hand and Kenzie set her phone in her lap, threading her fingers into his. He’s so warm, so lovely, he smells so good. My beloved.

“Of course I will, Kenz. I’d love for our looks to coordinate, baby. I guess I somehow knew I should put off finding my look until the last minute,” he grinned at her. His teeth are so perfect. His smile is like the clouds breaking on a rosy sunset. Ridiculous, baby. You’re ridiculous. How can anyone be so beautiful? Kenzie could feel the blush on her cheeks--she looked away from him, feeling shy suddenly.

“Stop thinking that stuff about me.” He pulled her into him; his body, so much larger than hers, enveloped her in the cocoon of his affection, and Kenzie felt faint inside it, felt herself go limp with the ardency of his touch. “You’re the one who’s ridiculously beautiful. You’re my moonlight.” Kenzie blushed more deeply into him as he took his sunglasses off, carelessly discarding them on the seat beside them, his hand coming back up to clutch her at the spot under her ear.

“Maybe we could go over there after we’re done with Ben’s interview?”

“Uh huh, Miss Stone. Whatever you want, Miss Stone. May I kiss you, Miss Stone?” His face hovered near her cheek, his breath sweet on her, his smell intoxicating, washing over her in waves, reminding her of his needy sex buried in her, his body pressed against her in the dark as they felt each other a few nights ago, immersed in their other senses, his mouth between her legs, his hands on her neck against the leather choker, all the nights that had passed with them locked in each other’s embrace, and it never felt like enough, it never felt long enough--

“You may.”

Duncan’s lips came against hers with aching velvet-softness; he hovered there for a long moment, his mouth open to her, and Kenzie became acutely aware of the feeling of him, the shivering tenderness of his touch--he lifted his head a little, and the bottom of his lip touched against the upper part of her mouth--he let it hover there for another achingly long moment, and Kenzie felt a deep shudder course through her body, down into her sex. It’s like he’s tasting my heart. She turned her head, lost in the feeling of him--her eyes had fluttered closed, and she felt drunk on him, drunk with his beauty and his attention on her this way; this concentration of his touch, so focused on her, the whisper of his mouth, like the soft flesh of a swollen fruit. The BMW was gliding through traffic with its careful ease, and Kenzie forgot where they were for a moment--she forgot everything except for the way Duncan was hovering against her, teasing her with his mouth. His thumb came up to press against her bottom lip, running along its edge and pressing it down, his lips still hanging on the top of her mouth, clutching her jaw gently but insistently. Duncan moved his mouth down again, his lips closing over just her bottom lip now, just a little, just enough to suck there lightly--Kenzie moaned against him in frustration, and she felt his smile.

“Stop teasing me, baby,” she said.

“Make me.”

Kenzie’s eyes snapped open; he was still nibbling at her bottom lip, his expression both stunningly beautiful and vexing to her, and she grasped his wrists--one at her cheek, the other on her thigh--and pushed his arms back into the BMW’s leather seat, her phone falling off her lap to the car’s floor as she climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Fine, baby, I fucking will. Kenzie knew she wasn’t strong enough to really control him this way--that he was letting her hold his arms down. You want me to do this, she thought, and his eyes opened, wildly bright (the blue of a field of cornflowers blooming in the sun) desirous and hungry. She could hear Stevie’s voice echoing through the stereo, coaxing her on--rock on ancient queen, follow those who pale in your shadow--and Kenzie let go of his wrists and clutched Duncan’s face in her little hands, demandingly, running her nails up his jaw with just enough pressure to force his head up to her, along the stubble there that she loved so, and he moaned against her fingers, and she kissed him, then, roughly, possessively, still clutching his face harshly against her, and Kenzie could feel him leaning into her, greedy and desperate, relieved at her want, starving for it. I want you to tell me what you want, what to do, command me, make me worship you, he was thinking into her, and Kenzie’s nerves were thrilling, singing, her body stoking itself into high flames of powerful desire. You are the light of my life and I long to fulfill your needs, long to fulfill every desire you dream of. I’m your faithful lover, most devoted, most ardent. I’m yours to do with what you will. You are beloved to me--more than anything. Above all things.

Kenzie pulled back and her hand fell down to his throat--she could feel the power of him under her hand, the strength coiled there, strength enough to whip her hand away from him if he desired to--but he leaned into her grasp, eagerly, anticipant. Choke me, baby.

Kenzie squeezed, and she heard Duncan gasp quietly, the air constricted from his lungs. His hands were on the incline between her back and the rise of her ass, clutching her flush against him, grinding his crotch up into the space between her legs. Kenzie lowered her mouth down, near to his, but didn’t let it touch him, not yet--God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby, and I’ll think it as much as I want, she pressed into him, her thought dusted in gold. I could eat you like cake, Dunny. Lemme eat you, baby. You smell like fucking sex. She saw Duncan’s eyes go wide as he heard her thoughts, saw his tongue come out to his top lip, licking along the edge--go ahead and eat me, Princess, I’m yours to devour, Kenzie, baby, please fucking kiss me.

As Kenzie went to kiss him, though, her hand still on his neck, his grip pressing her into him, his eyes falling closed, she saw, with a jolt of painful disappointment, that Samuel was pulling up to One Franklin Square. “Fuuuuck,” she whined, pressing her mouth onto his in frustrated defiance--Duncan’s eyes were closed and he leaned into her with abandon, his tongue twining against hers, not having realized they had arrived yet--”Dunny, baby, ugh, we have to go,” she murmured into him, loosening her grip on his neck. Duncan groaned into her, his eyes opening, disappointment and longing in his (sky, storm, thunder-heavy clouds) eyes. “Ughhh, fuck, baby…”

“Rain check, baby. I promise. You like me choking you, huh?”

“Yes,” he whispered into her, into the space between her breasts, his mouth moving down there, up again, more hasty kisses pressed to her open mouth. “Yes, baby, I love it.”

“I’ll do it to you later, baby. I’ll tie you up later and let you watch me put on that black lingerie, how about that?”

Duncan’s eyes lifted up to hers and then rolled back a little, his mouth opening as she pressed down onto his crotch, still straddling him, gripping his jaw hard once more, quickly--the car was coming to a stop and soon Harris would be pulling the door open--”I’ll tie you up and choke you and suck your big cock later, baby,” Kenzie whispered into his mouth, and Duncan’s lips trembled under her, and she felt coiled gold power pilling in the pit of her stomach, drunk with the sensation of speaking these fantasies into her lover, so wildly beautiful as he was, so much larger than her, so much stronger, and yet so abject in her hands, so prostrate to her touch. So in love with me. So devoted to me. My Prince. My Hades. His power bows to mine.

“Yes, please, Kenzie, baby--” then she was climbing off him, and she could see the flush in his cheeks, the almost painful look in his eyes at the loss of her touch--they hastily pressed together one more time and kissed achingly as Harris opened the front passenger door, and then broke apart just as hastily as he opened Kenzie’s door, his neck turning away from them to peer at the paps who had begun to notice the telltale BMW.

“Baby, you have lipstick on your face,” Kenzie whispered to Duncan, bringing her thumb up to the side of his mouth, where her pink lipstain had smeared on his cheek. “There.” Duncan quickly gripped her hand, his eyes boring into her (I can’t wait to be alone with you at home, our sanctuary, our secret place where no one else can follow us, where we can worship each other with no distractions), then let go of her as she turned to get out of the car, clutching her satchel. He followed her out and Kenzie watched the tide of paps swarm towards them. Her mind was hot and frustrated from the interruption of their passionate moment--oh, fuck this, she thought. 

Then, Kenzie noticed something--two girls who clearly were not paps standing closeby on the sidewalk, excited expressions on their faces. One of them (short and boxy, in tennis shoes and jeans and a lavender-colored t-shirt with a graphic Kenzie couldn’t make out, a sandy-brown bob haircut and glasses, a pink backpack, and a bouquet of a dozen red roses wrapped in white, crinkly plastic clutched in her hand) was pointing at Kenzie and Duncan, the other girl (tall and thin with freckles and curly auburn hair, wearing a similar t-shirt in pink and a short denim skirt and ballet flats) was whispering to her excitedly, a newspaper clutched in her hand carefully--not just any newspaper, Kenzie thought, the Post. They noticed Kenzie looking at them and waved a little. “Mackenzie, we love you!” the curly-haired one shouted out. Oh my god, Kenzie thought. I have fucking fans. Duncan was looking over at the girls with an amused, indulgent expression on his face. Kenzie could see the tide of paps fast approaching--Harris was reaching for her arm, murmuring “Miss Stone, it’s time for us to go,” to her in a clipped voice. But Kenzie glanced back at the girls who waved to her with excited smiles on their faces again--the curly-haired girl bounced on her feet, and the girl with the bob haircut stepped forward a few paces, hesitant but determined.

Fuck you, paps, Kenzie thought suddenly, defiant. I’m gonna be such an angel you’re going to fall over yourselves. Watch this. She immediately stepped towards the girls, reaching out behind her and grabbing Duncan’s hand, pulling him insistently along as she trotted over to them in the black-tie wedge sandals she’d chosen to wear today. The girls gave her wild-eyed stares as she approached, and Kenzie smiled brilliantly at them.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” the shorter girl with the bob breathed--her cheeks were deeply red. “Oh my god, these are for you, Mackenzie--” she held the roses in the plastic sheet out to Kenzie and Kenzie looked in her face, steadily, keeping the smile in her gaze.

“Oh, wow, thank you, they’re so beautiful! Hi, what’s your name?”

Harris was coming up behind Duncan, a dark look of concern in his eyes. “Miss Mackenzie, we really should go inside,” he murmured down to her as the paps swarmed up, a pudgy-faced man in a leather jacket and his cameraman at his shoulder at the forefront--I think Duncan called him Gary, Kenzie thought vaguely, he’s from BPF. Kenzie ignored Harris carefully, still smiling at the girl. She noticed with a shock of surprise that the girls’ shirts were screen-printed with one of the photos of her and Duncan from their night at Le Diplomate--the first photos the paps had gotten of them and put up on the gossip website--the first one she’s seen on her phone after Claire had sent the link to her, where Kenzie was shyly staring up at Duncan and he was glancing across at her, wildly handsome, holding her hand. DUCKENZIEFANS.COM was printed along the bottom of the shirts, in swirling gold script. Oh my god, what.

“Lindy,” the girl said (at least that’s what it sounded like, Kenzie thought), and Kenzie could see that she was on the verge of tears. “Oh my god, hi Duncan, oh my god, wow--” Duncan was smiling at her indulgently over the rim of his sunglasses, and he reached out for the flowers. “Here, I’ll hold them for her, okay?” The girl passed the roses off to Duncan, her blush deepening to a color almost close to purple, and Kenzie could see the way her hands were shaking. Kenzie reached out to her, grasping her hand--”Wow, did you make your shirts yourselves? They’re so lovely!” The girl nodded and Kenzie saw the first tear spill down her cheek. Kenzie leaned over to the girl and gave her a little squeeze--she felt the tension in the girl’s shoulders soothe as she did. “It’s so nice to meet you, Lindy, it’s okay.”

The curly-haired girl was bouncing on her feet behind her friend, making strangled sounds of excitement. “Kenzie, could you please sign your article for me? Ohmygodohmygodohmygod you’re both sooooo beautiful together,” and she held out the copy of the Post and a blue sharpie to Kenzie as the paps began to swarm around them in a thick cloud--Kenzie grinned widely at her, batting her eyelashes showily as the cameras began to click around them in a cacophony, and Duncan’s hand pressed protectively into Kenzie’s lower back--Harris was giving Gary’s cameraman a dark look as he tried to press closer to Kenzie’s face, angling his camera down on her, and the man skittered back, still clicking. “Back up,” Harris said in a low voice, and the paps closest to him moved back, obediently, at least for the moment. “Miss Mackenzie, we need to go.” His tone was dark. “I agree, Kenz, this is too close,” Duncan said into her ear, but Kenzie didn’t let her expression falter--she gripped the sharpie, still smiling warmly between Lindy and her curly-haired friend. “And what’s your name, sweetie? So I can write it out.”

“Gabby, my name’s Gabby, with a y at the end, we have a fan club for you, if you could write that too, it’s DUCKENZIEFANS.com, thank you Kenzie, thank you so much--” Gabby tossed her hair a little, another little squeal coming out of her at the end of her words. “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Mackenzie, we love you so much, we love you both so much, you’re like angels!” Kenzie tried to block out the sound of the cameras with a determined stubbornness--she could hear questions beginning to rise over the crowd of paps (“MACKENZIE DUNCAN ARE YOU LIVING TOGETHER NOW WHO ARE YOU WEARING TO THE GALA THIS WEEKEND OVER HERE MACKENZIE DUNCAN OVER HERE OVER HERE”), and she fought to focus on the two girls, leaning over the square of her editorial on the bottom of the front page, writing out To Gabby and Lindy and everyone at DUCKENZIEFANS.COM you’re the best xoxo Kenzie Stone. “It’s wonderful to meet both of you, too,” she said to them, carefully, still smiling, tucking her hair behind her ear, glancing up into their faces--she heard another cascade of clicks as the cameras caught the moment. Duncan was gripping her arm now, his fingers going tight, and she knew he was worried, glancing up at his face quickly--his lips were pressed in a thin line and he was looking at her over his sunglasses, his eyes stormy with urgency. Baby, we gotta go, this is dangerous. “I’ll be sure to look at the website, I’m sure you’ve worked so hard on it,” she said, and Kenzie felt the tingly burst of warm energy from Duncan course through her arm. Angel. My love. You’re so kind to everyone.

“We have, oh my god, we’ve been working on it every day, thank you Kenzie!” Gabby said with another long squeal, and Kenzie handed her the newspaper and the sharpie--she was surprised at how steady her own hand was, as if it belonged to someone else. Lindy had her phone out--the back had a sticker, another printed photo of Kenzie and Duncan, this one of the shot Kenzie had posted on Instagram of them in the back of the BMW with the neon shadows over their faces. Jesus christ, this is surreal, Kenzie thought.

“Can we take a picture with you really quickly?” Lindy pleaded. Kenzie nodded and pulled Duncan against her (you too baby), beckoning to Gabby. “Real quick, first Gabby then Lindy, okay?” She tucked her arm around Gabby’s curly hair and Lindy held her phone up, hands still shaking--Kenzie smiled widely as the short girl pressed the button on her phone a few times in succession, then Gabby reached out to her and they switched--Gabby mimicked her friend’s actions, still letting out little squeals of wild excitement, then Kenzie let go of the short girl and let Duncan begin to pull her away with an iron grip--Harris moved around her back, his arms extended a little as a perimeter around the paps. Duncan pushed past Gary, who was trying to tuck a microphone under his mouth again. Kenzie waved back at the girls (they waved back, more tears falling down Lindy’s cheek, Gabby still bouncing up and down), then turned her body into Duncan’s as they quickly stepped through the loud crowd of paps, which parted for them reluctantly, following behind them closely.

“Mackenzie, are you living with Duncan now?” someone said. Kenzie glanced up, feeling Duncan’s hand tighten on her--they were still a few yards away from the entrance of One Franklin Square. It had been Gary, who had switched his microphone from Duncan’s cheek to hers--Harris was moving around to where the pudgy man was shuffling beside her, and Gary’s watery eyes were dodging between her and the big man advancing on him.

“I am, yeah. It’s Gary, right?” She gave him a little smile, still letting Duncan drag her along--they’d almost made it to the door now..

Gary looked a little surprised, his eyebrows raising, mouth popping open. “Yep--yeah, uh, Gary Spencer for buzzpopfeed. Uhh, can I say, you look lovely today, Mackenzie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, thank you,” Kenzie smiled again, this time with her teeth. Not really, but yanno. Gotta start somewhere. I’m not going to hide from you guys anymore. If this is my life now, so be it. I can do this. “I’ll make sure you get some good shots of us the Gala this weekend, how’s that sound?”

“That would be great, Miss Stone, that would be stellar, thank you--”

“You can call me Mackenzie, that’s okay, that’s fine, Gary.” She nodded at him a little, eyes skirting over to Duncan--he was coming up to the door, his expression unreadable but his grip on her having lessened a little, as though her words to the pudgy man were soothing him, too. “I have to go to work now, but yes, Duncan and I are living together now, and everything is wonderful. Thanks, Gary.” Gary stared at her, a dumbfounded look in his eyes--the other paps around him were still shouting at her and Duncan, trying to get her attention, but Harris was gently pushing her from behind as Duncan pulled her through the doorway of the building--Duncan still wasn’t speaking or showing any sign of how he was feeling, clutching the roses the girl had given her in his long hand. The paps lingered outside, the wave of them coming to an abrupt halt, aware of the building’s recently heightened security as the door snapped shut, cutting off the sound. Duncan continued to pull Kenzie through the downstairs foyer, towards the elevators--Kenzie saw Erin, the receptionist, glance up at them (she had purple eyeshadow today, her shorn bob perfectly styled) and Kenzie nodded to her, smiling. Erin nodded a little back at her, eyes skirting between Duncan and Harris on either side of her. Kenzie shrugged. My knights in shining armor. Erin gave her a nervous smile.

Once they were in the elevator, Kenzie spoke. “Harris, I’m sorry, I needed to do that. I needed to give them...something. I couldn’t just ignore those girls. Thank you for bearing with me.” Harris nodded at her, clearing his throat a little as his huge form stood beside her, Duncan on her left, taking his sunglasses off, staring down at her--his eyes were bright. He’s amazed at what I just did out there, she knew, suddenly shy of him.

“Miss Stone, that could have gone very badly,” Harris replied. “The danger outweighed the benefits, in my view. Excuse my bluntness, but if we’re going to avoid more situations like the one from last week, we have to be more careful.”

“I understand that. But I needed to do that. I needed to show them. And I needed to be kind to those girls.”

“I see, Miss Stone.” Harris’ body had relaxed slightly; his hands were carefully clasped together over his stomach, and his expression was lowering, back to one of neutral friendliness.

“Kenzie,” Duncan said, and his hand came out of hers, pressing against her shoulder. “That was wonderful. You were perfect. I know exactly what you were doing. You were placing the foundations for a rapport. And the way you were with those girls--that was absolutely adept, baby.”

She grinned at him. Yes, baby, yes. I knew you’d understand. “Did you see their shirts? Did you see the sticker on her phone? Like oh my god. Did you know about the fan club thing?”

“I saw a post online about it--I haven’t looked at the site yet,” Duncan laughed, his hand coming up to his jaw, rubbing along his bottom lip. “You were so good with them, baby. You’re such a doll to everyone.” Despite Harris being there, Duncan pulled her against him anyway, pressing a quick kiss into her mouth, the crinkly paper of the roses in her ears.

“Are you ready for the formidable force of Ben Wilder?” Kenzie grinned into his kiss.

“Probably not?” He laughed again, nervously.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. You’re look so good today, he’s going to be distracted.” Kenzie hooked her fingers around the lapels of his blazer, her mouth pressing down onto his chin.

“Every little bit helps to convince him to hold the article until everything’s finalized,” Duncan replied, eyes falling on the elevator doors as they slid open on the 10th floor. Zadie happened to be walking past, her arms full of copies, wearing a long dark pantsuit and block-heeled black boots today, her extremely long, straight, shiny hair swaying down her back. She glanced up and lifted a hand to Kenzie, smiling, eyes skittering over the two men with her--she waved a little at Harris too. They’d met on Friday, before the incident, and Harris gave her a warm smile and a nod. “Miss Zadie,” he said, his voice pleasant and low.

“Zadie, this is Duncan,” Kenzie stepped out of the elevator. Duncan gave the tall girl a brilliant smile, reaching out his hand. Zadie took it, carefully clutching the copies to her chest. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself on Friday,” Duncan said, still clutching the roses in one hand--Harris inclined a hand to them, and Duncan handed them off to the taller man, nodding at him gratefully. “I was so concerned about Kenzie, it was all such a blur.”

“Oh, it’s fine, geez,” Zadie said in her low voice, letting go of Duncan’s hand and tossing her hair off her shoulder, “we were all worried. I’m so glad she’s okay. I guess they’re keeping the guy for a mental health evaluation and a combined trespassing and assault charge. Speaking of which--Kenz, I think there’s a court order on your desk. They probably want you to testify.”

“Oh, great,” Kenzie said, biting into her lip. “Can’t wait.”

Zadie winced at her. “Sorry, babe. Really glad you’re alright. I gotta go--lots of copy to do today. It was nice to officially meet you, Duncan--and nice to see you again, Harris. Thank you for what you did for Kenzie.” Zadie smiled at them, her gaze lingering on Kenzie for the longest, her eyes warm. She’d been Copy Editor at the Post for as long as Kenzie had been working there as a staff journalist, and she’d always been extremely kind and professional to Kenzie. Kenzie could feel that the other girl really was relieved for her. Zadie is a peach.

“Miss Mackenzie, Mr. Shepherd, I’ll be here if you need me,” Harris indicated a row of chairs near the elevators, setting the roses down in one of them. “It’s easier to see everyone coming in and out of the room if I’m near the doors.”

“Thank you, Harris,” Duncan said. Kenzie gripped his hand again and pulled him to where Candice and Ben’s office doors were, across from each other. She could see Candice’s golden head bent over her desk through the clear window into her side, the blinds open--Candice glanced over and saw them, giving them a little smile, nodding at Kenzie. Duncan noticed this exchange and leaned down to Kenzie’s ear. “Should I tell Candice about the plan today?”

“Let’s wait a little longer, baby,” Kenzie replied, pulling him towards Ben’s office door. There was a placard: BEN WILDER, EXECUTIVE FEATURES, ASSOCIATE EDITOR. His outward-facing blinds were closed. “There’s so much going on this week already. Let’s tell her after our trip, our getaway--” Kenzie felt his hands come around her, passionately, at the mention of their trip, and Kenzie felt weak in the intensity of his arms. “Fuck, baby, I can’t wait, I can’t wait to be alone with you for days, away from everyone, our secret place--” he whispered down into her ear, and she leaned her face into him as Duncan kissed under her ear. “Duty calls first, baby,” she breathed. “We have responsibilities, Mr. Shepherd.”

“Fuck responsibilities,” Duncan whispered into her ear, and Kenzie felt her knees buckle a little inside his embrace, the feeling of his mouth (god he’s so tall and so warm and fuck he feels so soft and smells so good)--she twisted out of his hold, catching Candice’s eye through her office window--Candice was glancing at them with a smile around her mouth, pressing her lips together, smirking with interest. Kenzie blushed, pressing an accusatory finger into Duncan’s chest. He was grinning at her with a perverse beauty, and she felt a flash of annoyance at the depth of his charm, his ability to disarm her entirely with a few short movements of his hands and his body against her. “Stoppit, Mr. Shepherd. I demand that you control yourself.”

“Yes, Miss Stone. I apologize, Miss Stone.” She could feel his thoughts drifting against her. Can’t wait for you to choke me with your tight little fingers and tie me to that hook and make me watch you dress in that tight little beautiful black lingerie, baby, can’t wait for you to tease my cock with your little hands and your beautiful little mouth, baby, my Kenzie--”please forgive me, Miss Stone.”

Kenzie let her breath shudder out and stared into his blue (ocean depths, sucking me down) eyes, shaking her head at him. Then she leaned over and knocked on Ben’s door sharply, three taps.

“Come innnn,” she heard Ben’s voice, drawn out. She glanced at Duncan again--his face had lost the mischievous glint he’d been giving her a moment before, and was now a mask of professionalism. A real pro, stony Duncan Shepherd, she thought towards him. But I can see your thoughts still, my naughty baby, I know what you want, my desirous Prince. She could see how badly he wanted to touch her again, see the shape of his need to feel her, and Kenzie opened Ben’s door and turned away from him, teasingly. Be patient. You have to wait.

-------

“So, Mr. Duncan Shepherd, here in my office,” Ben rolled his eyes theatrically, pursing his lips, but Kenzie could see the delight on his face, the satisfied smile hovering just under his dark, flawless skin. He pressed his fingers down into the edges of his long desk, peering at Duncan, who was sitting in one of the seats across from him, Kenzie in the other--Duncan seemed relaxed, his legs crossed, his hands in his lap, but Kenzie could feel the nervous energy of his thoughts beneath his convincing composure. Everything is gonna be fine, baby, she thought into him, and he glanced at her, then back to Ben, not saying anything. Kenzie could already see the mesmerizing effect he was having on Ben, though; the older man was staring at Duncan openly now

Today Ben was wearing a wine-colored velvet jacket with blue lapels, a navy cashmere turtleneck underneath. His glasses were rectangular with tortoiseshell frames along only the top rim, and there was long, beautiful gold-and-black rose lapel pin against his blazer. He looked extravagant and handsome, but all beauties paled next to Duncan, and Kenzie felt sure Ben was aware of that. Duncan’s sublimely handsome face seemed to be shaking Ben’s normally impregnable composure--Kenzie watched his eyes fall down Duncan’s waving hair, pushed back effortlessly from his forehead, into his piercingly blue flame eyes, his straight nose and full lips, the carefully-maintained stubble along his chiseled jaw, the raw masculinity of his throat, to his tailored black blazer and textured button-up, the incline of his long legs and flawless boots, the round, silent face of his black watch--Kenzie noticed Ben’s eyes lingering on Duncan’s beautifully long hands. Aren’t they, she thought. Aren’t they the most beautiful hands you’ve ever seen. She watched Ben’s lips part slightly, his breathing hitch. Yes, they can. Everything you’re imagining, they can do. They’ve made me writhe with pleasure every night. Kenzie blushed down at her phone in her hands, blushed at the wantonness of her own thoughts, sitting here in her editor’s office. She absently opened Instagram as she heard Duncan reply--”I was told you were most insistent with Mackenzie that I see you,” he said, a teasing edge in his voice. “She communicated to me that it was of the utmost importance.” Kenzie blanched at her follower count--1.7k million. She absently went to the photo she’d taken last night of their dinner, curious at whatever he’d left as a comment on it--she scrolled down and saw it immediately. @duncanshepherd: dessert was even better, followed by the heart with an arrow through it. Oh my fucking god, baby, she thought. The comment had thousands of likes already, despite him only having posted it less than an hour before. Kenzie came to another dawning realization at the tone Duncan was using with Ben--Oh my god, Duncan is going to flirt with him. He’s going to make sure Ben agrees to postpone publishing the interview by giving him eyes. Oh my god, baby. You’re fucking sly.

“Well,” Ben said, fingers pressing up against his chest, languidly, drifting along his lapel around the rose pin--god, it’s really working already, Ben’s absolutely flustered, I’ve never seen him this way--”I do tend to be direct, but I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by. You are a deeply interesting character, Mr. Shepherd.”

“I suppose I should say thank you for that,” Duncan replied, and then he smiled at Ben--Kenzie watched her editor’s eyelids flutter at the loveliness of her boyfriend’s smile, his white teeth cocked towards the other man, his eyes dancing. You are laying it on thick, Kenzie thought, fighting a wild urge to smack him. “I’m at your disposal, Mr. Wilder. But I have one stipulation, and I do require your discretion.”

Ben leaned forward in his seat--Kenzie could see the interest and arousal in him at Duncan’s careful, suggestive speech. “I’m listening.” His hand was on his chin, his eyes not wavering from Duncan’s (erotically, angelically) handsome face.

Duncan’s tone shifted suddenly--from casual eroticism to one of serious sincerity. “My uncle is fatally ill with prostate cancer. He will likely not live to see August. At that time, I will gain the majority share in the organization heretofore known as Shepherd Unlimited--a 3.5 billion dollar enterprise. When that happens, I will be shifting the prerogatives of the company towards philanthropy, and away from corporate interest. I would like to elucidate on that in this interview--but I cannot do that if you’re planning on making it public before the transfer of majority share happens in real time. I can certainly make it worth your while to wait, professionally-speaking--and if you can confirm your discretion is assured, we can discuss the particulars of that today.”

Ben’s mouth popped open a little. I guess that’s not what you expected to hear, Kenzie thought, still sitting quietly. “What kind of worthwhile are we talking here.”

“Financial or professional worth, it’s up to you. I’m not against one last bribe to help shift the company towards a better and more fulfilling future. Kenzie and I are committed to our goals and I will do whatever it takes to make them a reality.”

“You’re going to make Shepherd Unlimited a vehicle for philanthropy.” Ben’s tone was incredulous. And the Foundation?”

“Agree to the terms, please, Mr. Wilder.”

Ben’s face broke out into a smile that surprised Kenzie utterly--he’s happy. What?

“Mr. Shepherd, my word. Is this her doing?” Ben crooked a finger at Kenzie. “Little Miss Stone convinced you to literally move one of the most successful and powerful companies on earth towards a progressive agenda in the span of a week? I am absolutely speechless.”

“Mackenzie is extremely special. She’s a singular person who defies ordinary parameters of speech. She’s much more than she appears to be at first glance.” Duncan looked over at Kenzie, and Kenzie felt the wave of his affection cascade over her--felt the depth of feeling behind his eyes. Beloved. Exalted to me, most precious among all. “Yes, Mr. Wilder. Miss Stone was the catalyst of all this.”

Kenzie watched, still quiet, now full to the brim with emotion, watching as Ben stood, breathing in deeply, his eyes glittering. “I’m going to accept your terms, Mr. Shepherd--I won’t accept a bribe, at least, not a personal one--but I do want one thing.”

“And what’s that, Ben Wilder?”

“A generous donation to GLAAD, whence you gain majority share. It’s an organization that is very dear to me. With your financial support, it could become an even greater voice in the nation. With the financial momentum of Shepherd Unlimited behind it, we could do work that is truly transcendent for the inclusive goals of the LGBTQ community.”

Duncan replied almost immediately. “Yes. Absolutely. You have my word. As soon as I have financial control, it’s done.” He stood too, reaching his hand out to Ben, and the took men shook warmly. Kenzie felt suddenly overwhelmed with emotion--this is not how I expected this conversation to go at all, she thought, her breath hitching. This is wonderful.

“Then we most certainly have a deal. Duncan Shepherd, he of the piercing blue eyes, and Mackenzie Stone, his redemptive, intrepid love, about to be the most beloved public figures in America--” Ben sat down behind his desk again, a thoughtful expression on his face (I know that look, Kenzie thought: editorial in progress) and pressed the button on the recorder in front of him, picking a fountain pen from a copper holder beside the nameplate that faced outward toward Duncan and Kenzie. He leaned over the notepad in front of him, writing furiously for a moment as Duncan sat once more also, and both of the men were smiling--Kenzie felt the sun come out from behind a cloud, its warmth falling down through the window on them, bursting around her hair like an omen of good will as Ben began the interview. “So, tell me about your hopes for the future, Duncan…”

-----

They were back in the BMW a few hours later, on their way to Dupont Circle and Morgan’s studio. The interview with Ben had been a resounding success--Ben laughed no less than six times by Kenzie’s count, and by the end Ben was shyly touching his face and the rose at his lapel again, long since fallen prey to Duncan’s charm and aching loveliness. Being around Duncan is like a drug, Kenzie thought, like being around a Prince, a circlet of gold around his forehead, draped in dark velvets, smoldering blue fire burning in his gaze. He says I’m divine to him, and that shakes my bones--to be loved so much by someone so beautiful, to be the one he says brought his true beauty out from his soul. It makes me faint with the loveliness of it all. Kenzie had retrieved the roses the girl Lindy had given her from Harris after the interview and put them in a plastic vase from the staff kitchen, placing them on her desk before they left for the studio--they were simple, the kind one got from a grocery store--not the achingly fresh variety Duncan had bought for her. Still, she thought. Not everyone gets flowers from multiple admirers. Those girls were so sweet. It’s so strange to think I have a fan club now. She’d also opened the long manila envelope she found on her desk--the court summons Zadie had mentioned. The court date was two weeks away. Great, plenty of time to gt really nervous about it, Kenzie thought. She was lost in thoughts of the frightening encounter with the strange man when she felt Duncan’s warm, comforting touch on her leg.

“Kenz,” and Duncan was pressing his face down to her cheek, breathing in her smell, and she lifted her head so it was against his mouth. The day was still heavy with heat, the sun too bright and the clouds having disappeared; Duncan had been looking at his phone while Kenzie was drifting in her thoughts, but he had put it away, pressing against her, needy. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Why should you,” and she looked up at him, grinning. “You and all 2 million of my Instagram followers. Baby, that interview went so well, I can’t believe it. And Ben was so nice to you? He loved you. I’m just amazed. And we can do something good connected with it.”

“The interviews tomorrow are going to be hell. Mom already has forbidden us from talking very much, so we’ll likely end up just sitting around while they take photos. I’m sorry. It’s going to be a fucking drag.”

“I’m gonna wear that red dress, I think.” Kenzie looked up into his eyes, her hand coming around suggestively to his thigh. Duncan groaned softly, pressing the pads of his fingers into the soft side of her waist. “Oh my god, baby, yes please. I love that dress. I won’t be able to take my eyes off you.” “You’ll still be thinking about what I did to you when we got home--” and Kenzie pressed her fingers into the mound of his crotch, feeling gently, making his breath fall out in a harsh gasp. “What I’m gonna do to you soon--”

Samuel had pulled the BMW up to the sidewalk and Harris was coming out to Kenzie’s side of the car again, and Duncan groaned into her with frustration. “God, baby, fuck, I just wanna be alone with you, fuck everything else--” “As soon as we’re done here, baby--” and his mouth was crashing against hers again, impatient, devouring, and they pulled apart again as Harris snapped the door open. Kenzie tucked her disheveled hair behind her ears and slid out of the backseat, his scent all over her, like a tattoo that she couldn’t rub off.

Morgan’s studio in a squarish modern apartment building that held several other studios, all for various artists--one was a painter, another a sculptor, and there was a modest dance studio downstairs--Kenzie and Duncan went through the austere front lobby (it had what seemed like a hundred varieties of potted palms), Harris following at a close distance, eyes scanning carefully, and Kenzie led them through a doorway to a stairwell--”We’ll just avoid the elevator, it gets stuck sometimes,” she said to them over her shoulder, Duncan’s thumb trailing over her palm. Kenzie led them to the third floor, through a metal door back into a hallway with a row of studio doors--three in all. She went to the one furthest from the stairwell and pressed a buzzer to the side of it. A moment later Claire appeared, her face alight with happiness--”My babies!” she said gleefully, giving Kenzie a two-armed bear hug, then pressing an arm gently around Duncan’s shoulders for a moment, then, gave Harris an intrigued once-over.

“Clairebear, this is Harris, my bodyguard. He’s an absolute dream,” Kenzie smiled up at him, affectionately. Harris laughed at this, his sepia eyes dancing over Claire. “And who is this delightful creature?” He leaned down and kissed Claire’s hand--Claire’s eyes flashed and her cheeks reddened. “Oh my god, back at you, sir.” Claire waved a hand a few times over her face, as if to feign being overheated. “I’m Claire Anne Augustine, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” She dipped in a little curtsy and Harris laughed again. “Enchanting.”

“Come in, come in,” Claire beckoned to everyone, ushering them inside--Morgan’s studio was as brightly open as ever, the starkness of the black and white stripes immediate. Morgan was coming toward them, her wild orange hair striking against the walls. She leaned to Duncan, her hands in their customary long black gloves, and smiled magnanimously. “What a delight to finally meet the Shepherd heir apparent,” she cooed in her small voice. “And you’re more beautiful than even your celebrity would suggest, I see. I’m Morgan, my dear. Please call me such.”

Duncan dipped his head, shyly. “And please call me Duncan, Morgan. A pleasure.”

“Claire and dear Mackenzie have told me they wish her dress to remain a secret until the night of the Gala, so we’ve hidden our progress--but I think Mackenzie should also approve of my sketches regarding your own accoutrements for the night,” Morgan drolled. “A woman’s eye is everything in these matters, wouldn’t you agree.” She peered at Duncan over her huge, black triangular spectacles, as if to appraise his reaction. “I certainly do,” Duncan said, glancing over at Kenzie. “Kenzie has to love it or I certainly won’t wear it, no offense to you, Morgan.”

“None taken, my dear, in matters of the heart, true understanding is everything, isn’t it.” Morgan moved past everyone, not waiting for an answer--Claire beckoned to them as she followed behind Morgan’s huge orange wig, moving to a oblong, low white table where several sketchbooks were scattered. Morgan opened one with a dark leather cover to a spot she seemed to have marked with a long strip of shiny gold material--Kenzie’s heart thumped wildly at the sight of it, remembering the sketches Morgan had shown her for her dress. Morgan brought the open page over to Duncan, who gazed down at it--Kenzie saw his eyes widen and his head start to nod in approval, a satisfied smile on his mouth.

“Kenz, look,” he murmured to her, gently lifting the sketchbook toward her. On the page Morgan had drawn a dark blazer with wide lapels--down the shoulders dripped cascades of gold, like stars melting out of the sky, like some colossal god had been painting with them and smeared them earthwards with a careless hand. This is how it feels when you touch me, his mind brushed against hers as his hand touched hers under the sketchbook. Like your gold is melting down onto me.

“Duncan, it’s perfect,” Kenzie said, looking up at him and then at Morgan. Harris was standing quietly, surveying the expanse of Morgan’s studio--Claire was watching her and Duncan standing side by side, a look of deep affection in her eyes. In the drawing Morgan had given the model a black high-collared shirt with gold tips, and no tie. Very Duncan. She must have carefully considered his style.

“I agree,” Duncan said, and she could see how pleased he was, how delighted. “Morgan, I love it.”

Morgan breathed an overwrought sigh of relief; “Well, what cause for celebration,” she trilled. “Claire, get the champagne.”

“Whoo!” Claire whooped, running over to where a mini fridge (also painted black and white) was hiding in a curve against a tall fabric dresser. She pulled out a bottle of Moet and glanced up at Kenzie. “Kenzie, you’re only allowed to have one glass after the other night.”

“Oh fuck off, Claire,” but Kenzie was smiling at her best friend. Harris had gone over to Claire and was helping her hold several plastic coupes she was retrieving from a cupboard along the wall further down, a sink adjoining. “This isn’t the first time Morgan and I have had champagne in the early afternoon, so I probably should fuck off,” Claire replied. Harris took the bottle from her carefully, and Claire smiled up at him, coyly. “Why, thank you, Harris. What a gentleman.” Claire fucking loves Harris, wow. I mean--he is extremely handsome for an older man. And he’s...really strong. Kenzie snorted at her own thoughts. Maybe I could play matchmaker for my best friend and my bodyguard. Harris popped the cork of the bottle and poured it carefully into the coupes, and Kenzie watched his eyes follow Claire’s back as she came to where Duncan and Kenzie stood, passing two of the coupes to them as Duncan carefully set the sketchbook out of reach.

“To being on every best-dressed list and the front page of Vogue the morning after!” Morgan said to the ceiling as they all bumped the glasses together a moment later; Claire laughed into her hand as Duncan and Kenzie gazed at each other--this is how it feels when you touch me--his thought was still drifting between them, his eyes falling over her, and Kenzie was longing to be alone with him. I’ll touch you as much as you want, baby, she thought into him, pressing gold dust around his waving hair. I’ll drip my gold into your mouth and down your skin, draw sigils into your body with my gold, mark you as mine, beloved. We’re going to be so beautiful together at the Gala, no one will be able to look away from our radiance, the blinding golden sunlight of our love. Not even your mother.

------

Samuel had driven them home after that--it was early afternoon, just after 5, and the heat was pressing all around them, the champagne they’d had buzzing under Kenzie’s skin--she’d had just enough to kindle the desirous need in the pit of her belly, just enough to feel drunk. Morgan and Claire had had a tray of charcuterie for everyone as well, but Kenzie’s belly was rumbling with hunger--she’d only had a few pieces of the cheese and crackers, and remembered she’d only had the smoothie Duncan made her for breakfast. But I’m hungrier for you, she thought, feeling Duncan’s eyes on her as she stared out the window of the BMW on the National Mall, feeling the tips of his long fingers falling down her hand between them.

I’m starving for you, angel. I don’t wanna wait until tonight. I want you to do all those things to me as soon as we get home, while the sunset kisses us through the window, while I can see it fall over your skin. Then we can order so much take out. So fucking much. How does that sound?

“Dunny, baby, kiss me,” Kenzie turned her head and lifted her mouth to him, and Duncan was pulling her into his lap insistently, pulling her throat into his lips, whispering into her skin. “Kenzie, I can’t wait to see your dress, god, you’re going to look so beautiful, I can’t wait for us to change everything--it’s like everything is holding its breath--” Duncan kissed her mouth and his was so warm and tasted so sweet and Billie Holiday was on the stereo--all of me, why not take all of me, can’t you see I’m no good without you, take my lips, I want to lose them--and then he was speaking into her mind again, the softest, sweetest, most aching thoughts: I can’t wait for us to go to the cabin all alone for days and days and look at the stars while I fuck you in the long grass and by the fire and in the sweet darkness--you’ll see, it’s so quiet out there, no traffic, no shouting people, nothing but the crickets and the frogs at night and the wind and the sound of your sweet little cries against me, oh, baby, you smell so good, my angel, baby love--

Kenzie let out a little whine of frustration as they came up to the high-rise; the partition floated down but Kenzie was already sliding off Duncan and throwing the door open--a burst of warm summer air penetrated the cool cocoon of the backseat--”good night, Samuel and Harris!” Kenzie called behind her, and Harris, who had been about to open his door, stopped and looked after them grinning, turning to say something to Samuel that she couldn’t hear-- Kenzie had already yanked Duncan’s hand behind her, pulling him out of the car, snatching up her satchel. On the sidewalk he grasped her against him, lifting her up into his mouth again; she gasped into him and pushed herself down from him gently, “Come on, baby,” she demanded, her nerves buzzing with champagne and impatience. “I wanna be alone with you, really alone.”

“Race you,” Duncan said, a sudden, dastardly smile falling over his loveliness, and took off ahead of her towards the front door--Jerry swung it open, blinking at Duncan running past him, and Kenzie cried out in frustration, chasing after him. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen Mr. Shepherd run quite that fast--” she heard Jerry say as she skirted around him, her satchel smacking against her hip. Anchaly was staring at Duncan flying past him with raised eyebrows--Duncan slipped into the elevator and Kenzie let out another cry. “Duncan Shepherd, don’t you dare--” but by the time she reached it the doors were sliding closed and she caught the end of his vexing laugh, his blue eyes (the knowing burst of a summer sky) pushing arch desires into her. Come fuck me baby.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking get you for that, baby,” Kenzie murmured under her breath, the wind snatched out of her. She pressed the elevator button in quick succession, a frustrated whine leaking out of her. Anchaly was peering around the corner at her, a look of great amusement on his face. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” he called out to her across the marble foyer. Kenzie gave him a frustrated glance. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate,” she replied. “My minor was in English. Though he can’t have been speaking for my temper.”

“Ah, but for your loveliness, I think so.” Anchaly laughed as the second elevator slid open and Kenzie hopped inside, giving him the finger, playfully. He laughed harder at that. Kenzie’s buzz from the champagne was still riding high--adrenaline was now pumping through her body, desirous exasperation humming under her skin. Baby, I can’t believe you did that. I’m really going to tie you up now. Kenzie stared at her own reflection in the elevator’s mirror--her chestnutty hair in waves around her shoulders, her little mouth, pressed to roses by his kisses, the blush in her cheeks from running, the wideness and shine of her eyes, anticipating the moment she’d touch him again--aching for even the momentary loss of Duncan’s fingers, his burning mouth. How dare you frustrate me so, beloved. She thought of the laugh in his eyes--come to me, Persephone, come into my arms, in the shadow of evening. She watched the elevator climb (19, 20, 21) and thought of the blazer with dripping gold that Morgan was going to make him--thought of them all in gold at the Gala in a few days, cameras flashing, and them together, as it was always meant to be. With a strange wave of deja vu, Kenzie recalled a flash of the dream she’d had that morning--her aching despair to look into the eyes of her beloved, but to not see him there, to see someone else, a person she did not know, a creature of darkness. My darling, even in that world, I’d find a way to save you. I’d find a way to pull you back out of the darkness. I swear I would.

The elevator finally dinged to the 30th floor. Kenzie breathed a deep sigh of relief as the doors slid open--she jumped out--the hall was empty. Kenzie walked swiftly to the penthouse door, fumbling for her keycard, jamming it into the door, her heart racing--where are you, baby, where are you--she pulled the door open with impatience, tossing her head from side to side. “Duncan?” She called. No answer. Oh, you’ve really done it now. “Baby, this isn’t funny.” She dropped her satchel on the spotless stone tile of the kitchen floor--and as Kenzie moved into the living room, the sunset cascading down through the picture window, a sudden, terrible burst of fear flitted through her heart. What if, like in my dream this morning, he’s gone. What if he disappeared, into nothingness, lost in the void, and I can’t find him? It didn’t matter that the thought was wild and unbidden--if I live in a world now where the paparazzi follow me everywhere I go, if I live in a world where I can read my lover’s thoughts, I could also live in a world where people disappear without warning, vanish in a puff of smoke, couldn’t I.

The fear really clenched around her heart then, and Kenzie clutched her arms around her belly, tears immediately coming into her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “No. That can’t--” and then she cried out as she suddenly felt his arms come down around her, his large body envelop hers as he came up behind her--”Gotcha” he sung into her ear, and then Duncan seemed to realize, his face pressed into her and his arms around her, that she was distraught--seemed to feel the fear and the despair that had come over her a moment before through her skin, and his breath caught as he held her.

“Kenzie, baby, what is it?” His eyes came into hers, the playful teasing eking out of them, replaced with confusion and distress for her.

“I thought--I thought you’d--I thought you’d disappeared,” Kenzie felt the horrible despair dissipate, and in its place came a heady relief that brought more tears instantly into her eyes and suddenly she was crying, really crying, her face crumpling in the warmth of his embrace. “I thought of my dream, where there was that person with your face but you weren’t inside him, and then I thought, what if you had vanished, what if you’d vanished like that--” Kenzie’s face was now wet with the cascade of her tears, her lip trembling and her voice strangled with a sob. Duncan’s hands immediately grasped her more tightly, his beautiful face now aching with torment, and he pressed her against him, and his mouth was coming down to kiss hers and his hands coming up to wipe at her cheeks, running his damp hands along his shirt, uncaring.

“No, baby, no, I’m sorry--I was just teasing you--I was behind the door when you came in, oh Kenzie, please don’t cry, fuck--”

“I’m sorry,” Kenzie’s voice was tinged with her tears still, and she felt ridiculous, felt foolish, felt despondent that she’d overreacted this way--she tried to turn away from him but Duncan said “no, baby, it’s okay, let me hold you,” and Kenzie softened in his arms and felt the cool, loving blue flames of him licking into the lining of her and immediately felt herself calming, felt her tears begin to go cool and dry from the edges of her vision.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kenzie. Listen to me. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, I love you so fucking much, I’m sorry I scared you, baby, angel--”  Duncan spoke into the side of her hair, down to her ear, his arms tight around her, and then he turned her face up into him again and kissed her, and Kenzie gripped at his blazer desperately, pulling him down into her. “No, you fucking aren’t,” she whispered into his mouth, and felt him shudder under her, saw the spark that lit itself behind his gaze at the command in her voice. She pushed him back as he went to kiss her again, her fingers gripping onto his jaw then falling to clutch his neck, forcing him to stare into her eyes.

”Go in the bedroom and take your clothes off.”

“Fuck. Yes, Kenzie.” He stepped backwards, eyes still in hers, tugging his blazer off and discarding it to the floor, long hands coming up to his throat to start at the buttons there, turning away from her reluctantly--Kenzie followed behind him, her arms crossed, watching him. He reached the edge of the bed, now remade perfectly by the unseen hands of the housekeepers, dark and silent, the late afternoon sun not reaching this part of the penthouse--the room was bathed in shadow, and Duncan went to turn on one of the lamps, but Kenzie said “No, don’t. I’ll do it. Keep taking your clothes off, baby. Do as I told you.”

“Mhmm, baby.” Duncan turned away from the lamp and kicked his boots off, his tall form facing her now, still working at the buttons of his dark tailored shirt. Kenzie walked past him, and she saw the longing in his eyes, the longing to reach out and touch her, but he continued to unbutton the shirt obediently as she leaned down to the lamp, turning it to the lowest setting so the room was still waves of shadows. She straightened, her eyes moving from his hair to his face, his naked torso emerging from underneath his shirt, his crotch, which she could see growing hard under the fabric of his tailored pants, his long legs and dark socks. She reached forward--she saw his mouth hover open, saw his eyes go dark with need for her. Kenzie’s hands fell on the metal buckle of his belt--looking up at him, letting her eyes fall open and closed slowly, letting her mouth dip open and her tongue slide along her bottom lip, she undid the buckle and eased the belt out from his waist as he pulled the shirt off, discarding it too on the floor, his eyes unmoving from her face--they watched her tongue and a tiny, almost imperceptible moan fell from his lips, and Kenzie drifted her fingers up to his bare skin as his hands came down to grasp hers for a moment, his fingers hot and flushed, then they moved under her to work at his pants, pushing them down, easing himself onto the bed which was now behind them to work them off. Kenzie was still full clothed--she thrilled at this, her nerves burning at his vulnerability to her in this moment--Duncan’s pants came off finally, and he eased his socks off too, then he grasped at the waistband of his briefs for a moment, staring into her face again.

“Take those off,” Kenzie said. She couldn’t stop the smile that played around her mouth--Duncan saw it and he nodded, laying back and pushing them down his thighs. His cock fell out, hard, jumping against his leg. Duncan leaned up now, underwear discarded--he sat at the edge of the bed, his hand hovering near his erection, and his eyes burning on her. Kenzie stood in front of him, her arms coming down to her sides, heart hammering, appraising him. Duncan moved to grip himself, neediness in his eyes, but Kenzie shook her head and he stopped.

“Stop, Dunny. Not yet, baby.”

“Mm, Kenzie. Baby. I’m hard for you.”

“Uh huh. I can see that. Don’t move. Don’t you dare.”

“Yes, Kenzie.” Duncan’s hands gripped the edge of the bed; he bit his lip, his eyes falling closed, achingly. Kenzie stepped into the walk-in closet, untying her wedge sandals, stepping out of them, going to the drawer with the thick velvet ribbon, reaching up to where the black geometric lingerie hung. Her nerves thrilled when she reemerged--Duncan stared at her, his face flushed, his cock still very hard and pressing against his stomach, his hands unmoved from where they still rested on either side of his thighs.

“I wanna touch you so fucking bad, baby,” he murmured. The neediness in his voice made warmth pool between Kenzie’s legs, and she fought to clear her head of the haze that wanted to hang down low in her mind at the sight of him this way.

“Be patient. You need to wait.”

“Uhh huh, angel.”

Kenzie set the ribbon and the hangers with the black lingerie on them beside him on the dark coverlet, then she said “Duncan, stand up,” in a firm voice. Duncan immediately stood, stepping closer to her--Kenzie moved back as he tried to touch her, and he whined quietly. “Go over to the hook and hold onto the chain, baby. Like I did last night. Do it.”

Duncan’s eyes fluttered closed and he bit into his lip--Kenzie could see the coiling pleasure in his face, the fervor building there. He stepped back from her to the chain where it hung down in the mirror--she watched his eyes look up at himself in its surface, at his nakedness and his hardness, his hand coming up through his hair, then over his shoulder into her eyes where she watched him. I need you so much, Kenzie, his thought drifted into her. I need you to touch me so much. Fuck, baby, I’m weak for you, fuck, this is torture, but fuck, I love it, I love your commands, keep going, please, I want you to tie me up so much--

Duncan’s (long, beautiful, graceful) hands gripped the chain, his back facing her, his eyes staring at her in the glass. “Good, baby, perfect, now, don’t move,” Kenzie said, and left the room again. I’m too short to reach him, she realized, I’m gonna need some help. She grasped one of the tall chairs from the kitchen island and carefully carried it back into the bedroom--Duncan noticed what she was doing and a grin broke over his loveliness.

“My Kenzie’s too little to tie me up,” he whispered down to her as she put the chair in front of him. Kenzie climbed into it and reached out--she immediately gripped his throat harshly, and Duncan’s words cut off, a sharp gasp falling out of his mouth. She crushed her lips into his, slipping her tongue against his, and Duncan moaned, the feeling reverberating against her hand. He went to lift his hands down from the chain to touch her, but Kenzie moved her head back with a snap and said “No, Duncan, do not let go of that chain,” and gripped his neck more tightly, making him gasp again. Duncan’s fingers twined back inside the links--he pouted a little. “Sorry baby.”

She climbed down to retrieve the black ribbon; climbed back up onto the chair, Duncan’s eyes watching her every movement. Kenzie moved the ribbon through the links and then around each of Duncan’s wrists three times--her heart ached as she did this, beating wildly, and Kenzie could feel the flush on her skin, the nervousness. I’ve never tied anyone up before, she thought into him. You’re my first, baby.

It’s making me so fucking hard, baby, he thought back into her. I’m fucking aching for you. Please touch me soon.

I will. But not yet.

Kenzie yanked the two ends of the velvet ribbon together--Duncan’s wrists came together with a soft slap of flesh against flesh, and she heard the sharp intake of his breath--then Ken tied the knots tight, and climbed down.

“Move your wrists, baby,” she said, moving the chair to the side.

Duncan struggled for a moment against the velvet.

“You tied me good, baby.”

Kenzie grinned at him; she felt the aching affection in his eyes as she did. My angel, when you smile that way, you set my heart on fire.

“Watch me change, baby.”

Duncan nodded; his eyes drifted closed for another moment, then opened on her again, and his cock jumped against his stomach.

Kenzie undid the button at the back of her blouse and pulled it out of her skirt, lifting it over her head. Now, let’s talk, she thought, only this way, not out loud. I want to see if we can hear everything. Kenzie undid the hook of her bra as he nodded to her.

Okay, baby. You look so beautiful. The light’s so soft on you. Your hair is like gold. I want you so fucking bad.

Prince Duncan, she thought, letting the bra fall to the floor, her little breasts free to his gaze now. Soon to be the King, soon to rule an empire. And how do you feel, my Prince? She moved her hands to the back of her skirt, pulling the zipper down, stepping out of it; she pushed her panties off her hips, turning her back to him, watching his eyes fall down her shoulders and her ass, the backs of her thighs.

Like the happiest and most fortunate man on Earth. For my beloved is most fair, most exalted among all earthly creatures, and she can see into my soul, and she’s the piece of me that was torn away, and is now found again. She’s like the moon rising over the sea, the stars in their endless turning. She is everything to me. Without her, I’m in darkness.

Kenzie shivered at his thoughts--she reached for the delicate black tulle panties first, slipping them slowly up her hips, feeling the gathering wetness between her legs push into the soft crotch of them. She reached for the sheer stockings next, sitting primly on the edge of the bed as she eased them up to her thighs, glancing up to where Duncan was tied every now and then, his back and ass to her from this angle, illuminated in soft light and shadow, his eyes piercing into her through the mirror.

Tell me how much you love me, baby, Kenzie thought. Speak it into my secret soul, press your lips there like you do sometimes. I know you can.

Oh, Kenzie. I love you like the first sweet dawn of spring after the longest, coldest winter.

Kenzie slipped the beautifully geometric bra around her torso, locking the clasps together, then gently pulling the cups around to her breasts, pulling the straps onto her shoulders--she looked up into Duncan’s wildly blue eyes, hands falling through her hair, tossing it back.

More baby, more.

I love you like the coolness of autumn after the harshest heat of crushing summer.

Kenzie slipped the suspender around her waist, the straps hanging down at her thighs; she gently leaned down to the edge of the stockings and clipped the straps into them, first the two in the front, then the ones behind, over the rise at the side of her ass and thighs, and she heard him sigh--sigh with longing.

I love you more than sunlight, more than moonlight, more than I love every star, you’re the rain in the desert, the sweet tide, the wind in the trees in the evening, the haze of sunset colors, you are more beautiful than any art I’ve ever beheld, more delicate than any shivering flower, softer than the sweetness of any fruit, Kenzie, my Kenzie...every moment I’m away from you you intoxicate my thoughts, you fill every corner of my mind--

Kenzie moved towards him now, her hands on her hips, stepping around to where he faced the mirror, his wrists bound together.

“Baby, that’s fucking beautiful,” she breathed up to him, and she trailed her hand down from his chest to the dip between his ribs, and Duncan shivered terribly under her touch. “Keep going.”

Duncan’s eyes fell closed as her hands continued to fall--to his bellybutton, then to where his cock was jumping, achingly hard, against his abdomen, red and shivering with strain. Kenzie leaned her head down and hesitated--then his thoughts began to bleed into her again, and she spit a gush of saliva down onto the head of his cock, her hand coming up to ease the wetness down. You’re like an angel--uhh, angel--you’re like a real angel, sometimes I can see the halo around you, a gold ring more beautiful than anything on earth, and it’s like a secret aura around you, like a secret part of you that only I can see, proof of your divinity--oh, fuck, baby--

Kenzie had knelt on the floor before him, hand still gripping his cock, her mouth hovering just at the head of him, her legs parted so her sex stretched in the tulle panties, her tongue snaking out to probe into the hole at the tip of his length--she lifted a hand up to grip her breast through the delicate black tulle, looking into his (sapphire, lapis, turquoise) eyes, and she said “keep going, baby,” and lowered her mouth onto him, her tongue pressing against the underside of him, and she saw his hands strain against the velvet, straining with his need to touch her. The thoughts from him seemed to muddle into colors for a moment--indigo, midnight blue, plum-wine--then they surged back into her, stronger than ever, and terrible with need.

You’re my Persephone, I snatched you from the world in the great moment of Fortune that fell on me and I brought you here to be with me, to my realm where nothing grew, and you scattered your light all over every part of me and now everything I touch here my hand comes away covered in gold that you left on it--uhh, Kenzie, fuck, your mouth is so small and so wet and so fucking warm around me--and--and all I ever want to do is fuck you into ecstatic euphoria and make you come over and over and--over--fuck--until we forget everything but each other, Kenzie, fuuuck, I wanted you to tie me up because I want you to know that I fucking belong to you, baby, I’m yours, my body is for you and you can do whatever you want to me because I will love you no matter what, I’ll love your sadness and your anger and your frustration, your need and your annoyance, your doubt, your exhaustion, your hidden dark places, your secret self, your shadow--your luxuriant, lovely shadow, I love her too, I love you, fucking fuck me baby, fuck me with your mouth, I love you forever, until the end of time and even when there is nothing but darkness, the memory of my love for you will still echo in the emptiness--

Kenzie sucked at him, eagerly, overcome, a pilling need building in her stomach, but she also felt the tears that were gathering in her eyes again--god, when I write my book, baby, I’ll make it speak like you do into my mind and my heart, baby, I’ll make it sound like you do with your lips pressed against my soul this way. Because I know you mean every word with every part of yourself, because I can FEEL you. I can feel all of you, the beautiful sincerity of you, the light that’s shining out of you every day now--you said I kindled your soul, your real soul, and I fucking see you, baby, I can see it. Kenzie could feel the head of his cock thrusting into the deepness of her throat, feel the delicate veins of his length under her tongue, against the roof of her mouth, and her eyes rolled back. Fuck my mouth, baby, beloved, fuck my little mouth, it’s for you, for your kisses, for your thick cock, for your pleasure, my beautiful Prince.

“Kenzie, can I--can I please come, baby?” Duncan’s voice was weak, pleading, raw with the edge of his release. “Please let me come.”

Kenzie came up for air, her lips slipping down the end of his wet shaft, hovering on his head. “Tell me I’m your princess first, baby, tell me I’m your angel.”

“Fuck, Kenzie, you are my fucking princess, you are my only angel, the only one--”

“Okay, baby, come now, fucking come for me.”

Kenzie dipped his cock down into her throat one last time, then leaned back as she felt him release into her mouth, hot and slick, the taste of him salt and sweet--Duncan shuddered and moaned, his eyes heavy-lidded but not quite shut, staring down at where she kneeled on the floor, letting her mouth dip open so his come fell down her chin and dripped between her breasts and slid in rivulets down her stomach, marking her as his. “Good, baby,” Kenzie licked her lips, swallowing the half of his come that had spurted into her mouth, bringing her fingers down to the white liquid on her skin, scooping it up and pressing it between her lips, swallowing that too. “Fucking good, baby. You sounded so beautiful in my mind. Like velvet. Like your hands were touching me everywhere. Absolutely everywhere.”

“I wanna make you come now, baby.” Kenzie stood as Duncan said it. She looked up at him, still licking her lips.

“I wanna order dinner, Dunny. I’m starving. Then I want us to go to bed. Then, in the middle of the night, I want you to wake me up with kisses and fuck me in the dark with your lips pressed into my shadows. Like you were thinking into me. I want you to kiss my shadows, I want you to kiss them and touch them with aching hands. Will you do that for me, Prince Duncan?” Kenzie pulled the chair over to him, climbing up and reaching to his wrists in the velvet trappings as he leaned into her, his lips kissing everywhere he could reach, her arms and the crook of her elbow and the dip of her shoulders--she worked him free and his hands came down immediately, his desperation snatching her breath away, and he gripped her with hands that she knew could rend her if he wanted it, but they wanted to hold her, and she knew that too, wanted nothing but to hold her and press her into him, which he did now with a softness that made her gasp.

“Yes. I will, I will. Will you kiss mine, too, baby? My shadows?”

Kenzie raised her head and pulled his jaw down to her--Duncan was lifting her, throwing her down into their bed, her hair tossing behind her in a gold wave, his tongue licking her bottom lip where his come had coated her a moment before, his hands pressing at the tulle she was wrapped in. Kenzie’s hands came up to his throat and pulled him into her mouth, roughly--and she thought into him as she gripped him there, tightly, the jut of his adam’s apple pressing into her palm, and he gasped into her kiss.

Yes, yes, baby, yes I fucking will. I will love your shadows as I love your light. I will press myself to them and call them fair and beautiful. For I love you. All of you. 

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 19 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: At 49 pages this part is decidedly the MOST EXTRA OF THEM ALL thus far, though I suspect the Gala chapter(s?) will be even longer. I’ve realized the duality of the chapters has made it so I have to cram everything I want to be from one of their perspectives into any given part, but, like, who cares, right? I’M AN AMERICAN AND MORE IS BETTER! I thought of Pilar as Ecuadorian from the outset, the Virgen di Quito is a local deity related to the Virgin Mary--I don’t think she has an effigy at the Basilica, but I stretched reality a little bit there; she reminded me of Billie somehow, and I like comparing Kenzie to feminine deities--she has that vibe to people. Here’s the version of CRYSTAL Samuel is playing on their way home; one of my favorite love songs ever, and my favorite of the various versions ‘Mac has recorded over the years. Agent Provocateur boxes are very distinct and look like this. The hanging lights in Duncan’s bathroom look like this. Here’s Kenzie shampoo (I use their hair holding spray, their stuff smells AMAZING). I found Kenzie’s peony glass! She has the other ones too, the peony one just happened to be the one she grasped first that day at her apartment, and now Duncan is wildly attached to it. Had to include some avocados in this part as a nod to Cody’s avocado obsession. Here’s Duncan’s Keurig. Adelaide’s silver tray looks like this, her little bowls with dogberries look like this. THE ECSTASY OF ST. THERESA is a sculpture I’ve loved for a long time. ARIADNE is also listed as being owned by a private collector, and as Bacchus/Dionysus’ wife, it seemed only fitting to me that Duncan would desire it as a gift for Kenzie, a companion piece to THE YOUTH OF BACCHUS, as it were. Duncan remembering Marissa Montague (my Madison/Emma AU) laying there like lead, checking her phone while he tried to kiss her is an homage to Emma’s character Chanel Oberlin in SCREAM QUEENS doing that exact thing--Marissa is indeed asexual in my AU, though she would never admit that publicly, and she has no real interest in sex, only in money and fame, thus her lingering interest in Duncan--she will indeed be at the Gala, and she will indeed try to corner Kenzie. Claire’s dog Snicky/Snickerdoodle looks like this, we’ll meet him eventually. The photo of Kenzie on Claire’s shoulders is based on a real one of Billie and Leslie here and the caption I put on it mirrors Leslie’s. Kenzie’s story about volunteering for a woman who did horse therapy for kids is based on me doing that exact thing in high school, and Kenzie’s dream of having a garden house with room for horses is my dream (I, like her, miss being around horses terribly). A reminder that this is the sleeping set, this is the white tulle lingerie, and this is the rose choker (ugh, I want it). If you’re a person with a vagina and you’ve never used one of these (the kind Kenzie--and I--have), y’all...I can’t recommend that shit highly enough--Diah ( @impiorumrequies ), Kenzie keeping her vibrator in a fake copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray is for you, lol. Here’s Duncan’s balmorals, his chinos, his shirt, his sunglasses. I’m glad I could finally put some sexting in this chapter, that stuff was fun. Here’s the dress Annette’s wearing when Duncan disses her. Here’s Kenzie’s crop top, here’s her skirt. The peonies look like this (but Kenzie’s are real, of course). Here’s the gold vases. Here’s Duncan’s Waterford wine glasses (god, I love those). His kanso knives. His wok. It was important to me that Duncan had taught himself to cook, and to cook WELL, anxious to be independent from Annette--I said this before but men who can’t are a turnoff, being useless isn’t hot, it’s stupid and annoying. Here’s the recipe for the quinoa fried “rice”. Here’s the tutorial I based Duncan’s dumplings on. I had Kenzie choose Bowie’s LET’S DANCE while they made dinner as I’ve always found Bowie to be an aphrodisiac (and TMI lmao but I’ve had sex to that album and...it was great)--Kenzie’s singing along to MODERN LOVE, the first track. Regarding the sex, it was very important for me to strike the delicate balance between sexual domination and Kenzie’s autonomy--please note how Duncan consistently checks in with her throughout the entire thing, following directions, and paying attention to her reactions and needs. It’s deeply important to me that all of the sexuality in this story is centered around the deep, true love they feel for each other, grounded in personhood, autonomy, and mutual respect, and it’s important to me that you, my beloved readers, understand that too. Thanks--as always--for reading. Thank you for your love for them and your affection towards me.

Duncan kissed Kenzie’s cheek gently from where she was sleeping against him in the plane seat, breathing in the saltiness of the sea still in her hair, the sweetness of her skin; she stirred a little, a tiny moaning sigh falling from her lips, but she didn’t wake. Pat had landed the plane a few minutes before; Pilar had already opened the plug door and was handing bags to someone beyond his eyesight (maybe Samuel), but Duncan continued to watch Kenzie’s serene face, looking down at the half-halos of her eyelashes, the aureate crown of her hair. Back to reality tomorrow, back into the jaws of the paps and my mother and the world outside. Wish we could just stay here and I could watch her sleep, deep into the night. Duncan felt tired himself; tired at the prospect of the week to come more than anything, the responsibility of it pressing into his psyche. Meetings all day tomorrow, interviews on Tuesday and Wednesday, an audience with the President on Thursday, the Gala on Friday. And our getaway in the woods still so far off.

Kenzie felt so small and delicate under his arm; Duncan wondered vaguely if he could carry her into the car without waking her, but as he unbuckled her seatbelt and tried to carefully pull her under his grasp, her eyes fluttered open and she leaned forward, hand coming against her cheek as if to wipe away an imaginary tear.

“Baby, we’re back in DC. It’s time to go home. Did you have another dream?” Duncan let his hands fall against her knees, studying the confusion in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Kenzie breathed in a tiny voice, eyes falling down, falling on her beach bag, which she scooped up with a sleepy hand. “I was in a bathtub this time. I was fully clothed, in a bathtub...I was sobbing with blood running down from my eyes, and Candice was holding my face and speaking softly into my ear as I cried and screamed--I knew someone was going to die but I couldn’t stop it, I had to stay with her, I had to let them die. God, these dreams don’t make any fucking sense, baby. I hate them. Why was I in a bathtub?”

“Maybe we really should go see a clairvoyant or something.” Duncan stood, reaching for her hand. Kenzie gripped it and stood herself, swaying a little, still half-asleep. He pulled her gently down the aisle, her beach hat in his hand, his body full of tenderness, wishing he could have carried her to the car in his arms. Kenzie yawned rather than answering--he watched her and wanted to hug her against him. He thought suddenly of the man who had gotten into the Post building and almost hurt her. My poor baby, and she has to go back there tomorrow. She should take a day or two off. I wonder if I could convince her.

They reached Pilar; it had been Samuel she’d been handing bags to, and now he was taking the beach blanket, the last thing left. He smiled at them, his very white teeth flashing in his dark face. “Kissed by the sun today, I see.”

“It was a perfect day,” Kenzie murmured, and Duncan watched her face again, her eyes low and tired, her expression sleepy and nostalgic. “Thank you for moving our bags, Samuel. And thank you for the drinks, Pilar. I love you both very much.”

Pilar and Samuel both laughed a little, and Duncan grinned at them. Isn’t she an angel. I think so too. She’s so kind and lovely to everyone. She’s the one I love most in the world.

Samuel turned back to the steps with the blanket clutched under his arm as Pilar turned to Kenzie and grasped her little hand, smiling down at her. “It was a pleasure for me to make them for you, preciosa. Your aura...is very powerful. Like La Virgen de Quito. I used to look at her image in the Basilica del Voto Nacional when I was a girl, used to pray to her that she’d find me a beautiful boy to love.” She laughed a little, then her face grew serious again. “I wanted to say that...you remind me of her, mami. It was my honor to meet you today.”

Kenzie’s expression had become a bit more alert at Pilar’s words; suddenly, she leaned forward and put her arms around the older woman, and Duncan could see the shock on Pilar’s face--then a warm, serene expression came into her eyes, and she closed them and brought her arms around Kenzie’s small body and held her for a moment before they broke apart. Duncan’s heart felt heavy with emotion, watching them--he couldn’t help but feel as though Kenzie had blessed Pilar somehow with this action, as if she were a healer touching someone who was sick, or a mother touching a child, though Pilar was the one who was older and more motherly. To be near her is to be blessed. To be held by Kenzie is to be touched by her gold. I know that because I’ve felt it too--I’ve been blessed by her again and again and my heart is so full of her light I have to share it, I can’t keep it all to myself. She’s Persephone, scattering flower petals wherever she walks.

“Thank you for everything today, Pilar,” he said, and he could see the tiny pricks of tears glistening in her eyes. “Claro, miho. You know I love you very much.” She leaned across to hug him, too--Duncan’s arm came around her, feeling warm and dizzy. I know how you feel, he thought to her. I never know how to describe how wonderful Kenzie is, either, but it’s like she is literally an angel, and we’re all lucky just to be close to her. Pilar laughed a little against him, as if embarrassed at her own sudden emotions, then let go of him and stepped away, waving goodbye to them. “Buenos noches, vida bellas.” Then she turned away; Duncan could still see the tears glimmering in her eyes, and he knew innately that she suddenly wanted to be alone. He pulled Kenzie gently through the plug door and down the steps, the evening air cascading against them suddenly--the sun was setting to the northwest, far on the horizon that faced them, falling into a skyline that was going dark with indigo, bleeding into dappled orange and rose. He turned to look up at her as he stepped down ahead, their hands still clutched together, her hat pressed gently under his arm; the wind blew her hair against her cheek, the sunset falling in a gauze, like a veil, over her eyes, turned down to watch her feet on the steps, ungainly in her sleepiness, the tiny gold necklaces at her throat glinting in the shadow. Saint Mackenzie, patron of lost souls, bringer of light and golden love. Bringing deer back from the dead. Bringing tears into the eyes of her faithful followers. Kissing flowers into my lungs.

He helped Kenzie into the car; she let him, not speaking, but he got a tiny burst of her thoughts; I really don’t want to go to the office tomorrow, god, I’m scared now, I’m scared the minute someone leaves me alone at my desk for a minute someone’s going to come and try to rip my arm out or kidnap me or something and he slid in beside her and snapped the door shut, nodding to Samuel in the rearview. He could hear Stevie Nicks low on the sound system tonight--her voice lowered and deepened by time, enriched by the glow of the sunset in this moment. I turned around, and the water was closing all around...like a glove, like the love that had finally, finally found me...and I knew, in the crystalline knowledge of you...as Samuel drove away, he turned to Kenzie, watching her face--she looked out the window, her fingers twined atop his in the middle of the BMW’s backseat, and he could see that her cheeks were just the tiniest bit sunburnt, at the stretch of her face below her eyes. She was singing along softly under her breath, and he ached at the sound of it--the sincere lilt of her beautiful voice. How the faces of love have changed, turning the pages...and I have changed, oh, but you, you remain ageless…

“Baby...I think, maybe, you should take tomorrow off from work,” he said to her, gently, as the car turned onto I-66. “I know...you’re still upset about what happened on Friday, and you have every right to be. That was traumatic for you, and no one should expect you to get over it right away. I think...this week was so much…” He watched Kenzie’s eyes flutter closed as he said this. Yes, baby, so much. It’s been so fucking much. “It would...it would give you a chance to settle in at home. Sleep...have a day to yourself...put all your things where you want them. What do you think, Kenzie?”

She was quiet for a long moment (drove me through the mountain...through the crystal like a clear water fountain…) and then she nodded a little. “I’d like to do that, I think,” she said softly, almost whispering. Duncan moved his thumb carefully over her hand, loving the bumps of her little knuckles, the softness of her skin beyond them, the rise of her wrist bone. “Okay, baby. I think I will.”

“Ben wants to do that interview on Tuesday, so I’ll be with you at work the next day, too.”

She turned to him, and the smile of relief in her eyes fell against his heart with a hard pressure. He could feel her thoughts immediately drift into calm; could feel her hand relax under his, and she moved closer to him, dipping her head down to the crook under his arm. Her spot. Duncan thought of what he’d found on the Sotheby’s website while she’d been sleeping on the plane--in a few week’s time, Waterhouse’s Ariadne would be going up for auction. He thought of the lines from Edith Hamilton’s book, the one he’d read over and over as a child: Some time during his wanderings, Dionysus came upon the princess of Crete, Ariadne, when she was utterly desolate, having been abandoned on the shore of the island of Naxos by the Athenian prince, Theseus, whose life she had saved. Dionysus had compassion upon her. He rescued her, and in the end loved her. When she died Dionysus took a crown he had given her and placed it among the stars. In the painting, Ariadne sat languidly upon a chaise, her face turned upward in serene repose, a leopard sleeping beneath, another standing near the end of the seat where lavender robes were gathered under her. Ariadne’s right breast was bare, her other covered by a crimson robe over one shoulder, knees gathered together, long flowers growing around her. In the distance there was a ship, sailing into the pink horizon away from a white dock, and bushes of white flowers. Dionysus comes from reveling and finds his Ariadne, and knows she will be his starlight, his moon, his sun and every spinning celestial planet in the sky. He thought of the way she stared at The Youth of Bacchus, wanted to look into it as they fucked, touched by eroticism. Duncan’s hands trailed languidly through Kenzie’s hair, still feeling of sea salt and the last of the sun. Ariadne will be for you and you alone, my love, and we’ll hang it in the empty space in our bedroom, and it will always be your face to me, turned up in sweet sleep. Only unlike the wine god to his bride, I have not saved you. You have saved me.

Duncan opened his phone as Kenzie breathed quietly into him (Stevie was singing another song now and it floated into his ears: well one more night I’d like to lie and hold you, yes, and feel…); the drive back from the airport would take half an hour, and if Kenzie wanted to sleep for the rest of the ride, he was determined to let her use him for a pillow. He gazed down at the photos they’d taken today--he smiled looking at the one of Kenzie in her little bikini, the embarrassed expression of happiness in her eyes. Princess Kenzie. It currently had over 700,000 likes and 6,000 comments. He scrolled down, looking through some of them.

I wish I was this skinny, maybe I could get a billionaire to date me too

She’s not a Princess she’s a QUEEN an ANGEL a GODDESS (Yes, she is.)

I’m going to frame their wedding pictures and hang them in my house

How is anyone this pretty honestly

DUMP HER FOR @marissamontague ALREADY (Pfft, never a fucking chance in a million years, honey, Duncan thought. I’m sure she’ll be at the Gala and she better not try to sink her claws into Kenzie. He noticed Marissa had liked the comment and made a face. Ugh. It’s not just her fans who are strange. She’s insane. Fuck off, Marissa. He thought of the one time they’d almost slept together with mild disgust, how she’d laid there as if she were made of lead--even reached for her phone at one point--until he climbed off of her after a few minutes, aghast. Duncan was relatively sure Marissa was actually asexual, though he doubted she’d realized that herself--and that her main motivation in the dating world was optics: the richest, most successful potential boyfriend was the one she was most interested in.)

If they did a photoshoot together I think I’d go into cardiac arrest (Now there’s an idea,  Duncan thought, and made a mental note to talk to his PR.)

BUY HER MORE DIAMONDS DUNCAN (That I will do.)

#DUCKENZIE 4 LIFE #DUCKENZIE 4 EVA

JOIN THE OFFICIAL #DUCKENZIE FAN CLUB AT DUCKENZIEFANS.COM (Jesus, okay. We have a fan club now. Can’t look at that right now.)

He noticed Claire (@clairebear) had left a comment on it: a long line of heart-eye emojis and lipstick stains. Same, Claire, same, he thought, liking her comment and going to her profile, hitting the follow button. He scrolled down Claire’s photos (lots were of food and designs on coffee drinks and a miniature boxer puppy who seemed to be named Snickers/Snickerdoodle/Snicky or some variation thereof, selfies, and fashion/glamour shots of models and couture from her job with Morgan Winthrop), liking several of them, until he came to one of her with Kenzie up on Claire’s shoulders, both of them laughing as Kenzie seemed to be falling, leaning down over Claire’s head. I mean sure why not @kenzielouwho the caption said. Duncan grinned at it--every time he saw a new picture of her it was like his heart wanted to burst out of him and start flying around his head. He liked it and left three black heart emojis on it.

Duncan scrolled through his email for awhile, thinking over the week to come--Ben’s interview with him the day after tomorrow, another harrowing day after that, no doubt, devoted to Annette on Wednesday. He thought of the task before him on Thursday, to try to gain Claire Underwood’s trust. No easy task when Annette has done everything she can to try to scare the President into legislation rather than negotiation. Something tells me her “breakdown” isn’t what it appears to be at first glance. And of course the Gala on Friday. I still need to decide what I’m wearing, shit. I should ask Kenzie to choose for me--I want my look to compliment hers, but she said she wants it to be a surprise after all. Duncan’s phone vibrated in his hand. A text from Mom.

Your Uncle had a consultation over the weekend. The cancer is moving more rapidly than the doctors had hoped and they expect him to be bedridden in a month’s time. I will be talking to him about his Will this week, after the Gala. You were completely out of bounds to tell Mackenzie about our plans for Shepherd Unlimited going forward. I expect you to use more discretion in the future and leave her out of business dealings. We have two interviews scheduled for Wednesday, one with Forbes and one with Vanity Fair. She’s expected at both. I will do most of the talking.

Leave her out of our business dealings. Duncan went out of his texts, not answering. Once I’m primary shareholder, Mom, she’s going to be intimately involved in our business dealings, she’s going to be making executive decisions for the fucking business on the board with Madeline and you’re going to have to accept it and stop being so selfish and let something generous into your heart for once. We’re going to change it. I’m going to change the Shepherd legacy--not through blood but by the desire to do something good. Samuel told me to let my heart guide me, and Kenzie’s going to help me, and that’s what I’m fucking going to do.

Duncan wondered, idly, if Kenzie wanted children. He never had, despite knowing it was something his mother expected eventually--the world, he’d always thought, was no kind place for children. And he still didn’t want to have kids, even though Kenzie was here now--it didn’t feel like their Fate, not like meeting each other hand, not like being together seemed to be. We’re still not really sure how this telepathy thing works, he thought, hand gently trailing over the bottom of Kenzie’s ear as her cheek rested on the right breast of his beach shirt. But what I feel from her is that she doesn’t want them, either. I know she has a birth control implant in her arm, but I can’t remember when we talked about that. Maybe we didn’t. Maybe I just know because I heard what she was thinking. And maybe that’s how I know she doesn’t want kids, either. Not now, and not ever. She wants to write, be a good journalist, and spread her passion for life to as many people as she can. And now I want to do that too--spread happiness as far as I can, to the people who are already here. If we can reshape the Foundation, we can make it into something that can help people for generations, even after we’re gone. And we can do that without having kids of our own.

But we should talk about it. I want to be sure that she’s sure. And I want her to know that I’m sure. Maybe tomorrow, when we’re not so sleepy. Maybe tomorrow.

It was fifteen minutes later when Samuel glided up to the sidewalk in front of the penthouse, hopping out of the driver’s seat to start unloading the baskets and beach gear from the trunk. Kenzie had stirred herself awake a few minutes before this time, and she was yawning again, running a hand through her sun-dried hair, leaning up to Duncan to kiss him, sleepy-eyed. “I don’t know why I’m so tired,” she murmured. “I do,” Duncan said, grinning, “Too much sex.” Kenzie slapped his chest, lightly, gasping. “Probably true.” She slipped out of the car before he could catch her, grabbing one of the baskets from Samuel’s hand before he could protest, skipping down the sidewalk into the high-rise’s foyer. Duncan shook his head, grasping the towels and beach blanket and shutting the trunk, smiling at Samuel, who was laughing after her. “That girl is like a little comet,” Samuel said, and Duncan was struck by the image of her flying across a sky full of stars--he saw her wings and halo again, the ones he’d seen in his dream, and they were dazzling to recall. My little firefly.

Jerry swung the door open for him and Samuel and Duncan nodded to him. Kenzie had stopped at the front desk to talk to Anchaly; Anchaly was leaning down to her conspiratorially, telling her something, and Kenzie’s face was blushing, looking back at Duncan as he came toward her. “Anchaly says there are boxes for me upstairs,” she said, turning to Duncan. “You have to stop buying me things.”

“Never,” Duncan said, shaking his head, glancing at Anchaly, who was looking between them with delighted interest. “Get used to it, Kenz.”

“Mr. Shepherd, Mackenzie--the chandelier hook was installed today while you were away.”

Kenzie looked at Anchaly with a puzzled expression, then a dawning realization came over her face and she turned to Duncan for a long moment, her eyes spinning with flecks of gold, then she turned again and thanked Anchaly, smiled at him sweetly (you little sneak, baby, he heard her thought), waved goodbye to the man and went to the elevator, leaning against it to hold it open for Duncan whose arms were full. She gazed up at him as he looked down at her, moving inside; then she reached for the other picnic basket from Samuel’s hand and leaned up to the much taller, older man; he leaned down, hesitatingly, and Kenzie kissed his cheek. Samuel’s huge, very white smile fell over his handsome face, and he stepped backward out of the elevator. Duncan watched Samuel’s hand come up to his cheek where Kenzie had pressed her little lips, and the expression in his eyes was bright with emotion as the doors slid shut. Everyone loves her so much. Our Kenzie. Our angel. I’m so grateful. I need everyone’s help to protect her. To keep her safe, no matter what. Nothing like Friday can happen to her again. He lost himself in the devolving swirl of his thoughts for a moment until Kenzie came up against him as the elevator climbed, looking directly into his eyes, her head turned up, her little arms pressing into his sides, her little breasts pressing into his stomach, making warmth pool there.

“What did you get me, baby,” she whispered, raising her eyebrows, her eyes huge and jade-chocolate under her long eyelashes, her little mouth open to him.

“You’ll see.”

“Tell me,” she whined. “Is it a pony?”

“Not a pony.”

“But I want a pony, baby.” She pouted, and he could see the indecorous smile she was trying to hide.

“Then I’ll get you a pony. But I don’t know where we’ll keep her.”

“At my garden house, of course. The house I’ll have someday in the country, with a greenhouse, and verdant fields of flowers, and a garden, and a bonfire pit, and magic in every corner.”

“Kenzie, baby...is that what you want?”

“I’ve always wanted it. I’ve dreamt about my green country house for as long as I can remember dreaming about anything.” She sighed against him. “To have a place to steal away from everything and grow things and eat the things I grew from my own garden, and write something and sleep under a dozen quilts with rain falling outside my window. And keep a pony. Or maybe a few ponies.” She was grinning at him now, and he loved her little teeth, wanted to press his finger along them, wanted to devour her mouth. “For a few summers during high school I helped this friend of Momby’s, she owns a charity that does horse therapy for kids with mental handicaps. We’d take care of the horses and clean their stalls and she’d let us ride them. They’re so sweet and so big and they have these huge beautiful eyes and ears and they’d eat apples out of my hand. One was named Foxglove and he was dappled and he was the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen and he was as sweet as honey, so gentle and quiet. I’ve liked horses ever since and....I miss being around them.” Suddenly, Kenzie seemed to grow shy, seemed to remember the opulent gold elevator they were rising in, seemed to remember that they were going to Duncan’s huge penthouse, and that she was no longer ordinary Kenzie Stone, but Mackenzie Stone, girlfriend of billionaire Prince Duncan Shepherd. She stepped back from him, looking away, and Duncan’s heart clenched.

“Look at me, baby.” Her eyes came back into his, confused, unsure. “I told you I was going to give you anything you wanted. I want you to tell me everything. Your hopes and dreams. Your desires. So please--tell me everything. I want to hear all of it.” The elevator opened; Kenzie slid away, shyly looking down again from his eyes, smiling through the blush that had spread over her cheeks. Duncan followed her to the penthouse door, his arms full of the remnants of their beach day, and pressed his face to the side of her ear as she fumbled for her key. The door swung open and she suddenly turned and pressed her mouth up into his and Duncan dropped everything he was holding and his hands came around her to clutch her little body against him. He could feel how tired she was--it licked at his mind as he pressed her into him, how exhausted she felt, her body and her heart and her mind lost in a sort of fog, a low shadow of overwhelmed, washed-out color. He picked her up under her thigh and at her waist, the better to lift her mouth up into him, and Kenzie wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips as he brought her inside, hitting the light switch to the diamond chandelier with the crook of his elbow, setting her down, light as a feather, on the obsidian island. He could see the telltale hint of pink from the corner of his eye--he glanced there from where Kenzie’s lips were still pressed into his and she pulled back from him, also having noticed.

“Dunny, oh my god,” she whispered. There were four boxes in all, neatly stacked atop one another--Agent Provocateur was visible along the box at the top, in swirling gold script, black ribbon on the top corner and the bottom right, tied in a bow. Duncan let go of her and brought the first box over to her where she sat on the island’s edge, her feet dangling a few feet above the floor; she held the box in her lap as he knelt down to untie her sandals, and he looked up into her eyes to see her swallowing nervously, her eyes glittering inside his.

“Open them, please?” Her first sandal came undone in his long hand, and Duncan leaned his mouth to her bare ankle again--the marks these shoes had left were not nearly as dark as the one that night (that first night, that night I will never forget), but he kissed them just the same, loving the salty taste of her sea-drenched skin under his mouth. He watched her neck incline, her eyes close at the feeling of his lips--then Kenzie opened them again, looking down at the box, and pulled at the black ribbon, soothing it away from the box and lifting the lid. He worked at her other ankle as she gasped into it, setting the lid beside her atop the ribbon. She lifted the silky black kimono out--it shone in the light of the diamond chandelier, to where the delicate lace around its sleeves and hem fell in graceful waves.

“This is beauuuutiful,” Kenzie whispered, longingly. Duncan kissed her other ankle as the sandal came free, resisting the urge to kiss all the way up her leg, kiss between her thighs again. She’s too tired tonight. Be patient. Be content to give her these beautiful things--beautiful but not half as beautiful as she is. “Oh, Duncan, I love this. It’s so soft.” He stood up, hands falling on her knees against the wrap dress, gazing down at the kimono in her hands, smiling. “I’m so glad you like it. After I went through all your clothes I wanted to...I just wanted to buy you some beautiful things. And I felt like I had a good idea of what you would like--”

“Dunny, I love it. I’ve always wanted something like this…” Duncan could see the glittering wetness of her eyes, knew she was on the edge of tears. He soothed his hand up her thigh. She sniffed and blinked rapidly for a moment, until the threat of tears dissipated. “I’ll wear it every night.”

“Open the other ones.”

Duncan pulled the first box with the kimono gently out of her lap, then passed her the next one, soothing it against her thighs. Kenzie swallowed again, and he noticed her little fingers were trembling as she undid the ribbon. This one had the nude white lingerie in it--flowers cut out along the bare bust (your little nipples visible under the silkiness baby) and along the panties and the waistband of the suspenders, with long transparent stockings. Its silky tulle slid under her small fingers, and watching her look at it, her eyes like wet jade, made his nerves burn for her.

“Dunny,” she whispered.

“Do you like it? Is it okay?”

“Are you fucking kidding? Is it okay? It’s the most beautiful lingerie I’ve ever seen...the most beautiful I’ve ever had. Nobody has ever gotten me anything like this.”

“Baby--I’ll get you as many you want. One for every day of the year. God, you’re going to look so beautiful in it, Kenzie.” He pressed his face down to her and she kissed him with her mouth open, her hand sliding away from the tulle of the bra and coming around his jaw, fingers trailing along the shadow of his stubble. He went to kiss her more deeply, but she pulled away from him, her hand falling a little to grip the top of his throat.

“Give me the next one, baby,” she said, and the command in her tone made blood surge into his cock, made it ache for a moment with the hint of arousal. Duncan already knew they weren’t going to fuck tonight--he could see it in her eyes somehow, had felt it in the tired drift of her as he carried her inside, but she was making him a promise--the promise was tomorrow night, and he already felt a bone-deep anticipation.

The third box had the black lingerie. It was even more beautiful than it had appeared in the photos; the leaf-like lace motifs reminded Duncan of clusters of ripe grapes (Dionysus sees Ariadne in the moonlight, and is struck with longing) and the geometric artistry of its elegant shape seemed to make Kenzie’s eyes even darker--she held the suspenders up, eyes roving over the black band that would go around her waist, the spindly, criss-crossing designs that would fall on her abdomen, the black stockings on her slender legs rising up to her curvy thighs, and then she looked up at him, opening her mouth just a little. Duncan felt trapped inside her gaze--he moved back and leaned against the wall directly across from her, crossing his arms behind his back, dipping his head shyly and looking up at her from the halo of his hair falling down over his forehead.

“You like it.”

He could see the delicate hum of her breathing under her skin--see the tiny hammering vibration of her heart at her throat and between her breasts, see the tiny shivering in her shoulders and her fingers.

“Yes.”

“I can’t wait to see you in that.”

She lifted her chin and smiled at him, and the smile was full of need, and he was stunned to see its power, too--it was a smile full of power, full of her divinity. The knowledge in it struck him like the weight of a heavy hand. She knows I belong to her. And I do, baby, I do, I fucking do. Eat me, devour me, push me down into your hands where I fall to pieces under your touch, push me down between your legs and make me beg for you, tell me every need, every desire, and I will bring it to life. You’ve brought me to life and I will give you any pleasure you have long sought, for your arms only have brought the truest pleasure to me.

“Mhmm.” She didn’t say anything else, just let her fingers trail over the black tulle, not moving her eyes out of his. “And what’s that last one, baby.”

Duncan stepped over to the box and brought it to her; she stacked the one on her lap atop the others and slid her hands down his fingers, taking it from him. Duncan shivered. That’s it, baby, make me dissolve under your touch. Turn me to warm liquid, spilling down over your body.

In the last box, the sleeping set rested, neatly folded in pink and black lace, in the center--and on top of it was the rose choker. Kenzie seemed to stop breathing for a moment as she looked down at it. Then, Duncan watched her reached out her little fist and grasped it tightly, her thumb trailing over the thick black leather, her index and middle fingers gently caressing the silvery rose at the throat. Kenzie lifted it out of the box and let a harsh breath out of her body--it seemed to shake the entire room, seemed to send heavy gold waves against every surface, and Duncan felt stunned by the energy that crashed against him from her, her eyes planetary in their golden insistence towards him. You saw this, and you thought of me, didn’t you, baby, you thought of your angel, your deep red rose, blooming under your touch.

“Duncan...this is so beautiful.” Kenzie said the words with aching slowness. She trailed her little tongue over her lips and Duncan couldn’t stop the moan that escaped from between his own, quiet but insistent. She looked up at him (I see the storm in your eyes, baby, she said into him, I see that storm that wants to devour me into sweet fragments, and if you can be patient, I will give you redolent nectar, I will give you ambrosia, and soon, very soon), holding it still, and then Kenzie smiled and bit down into her lip, her immediate need crashing against him again. “You’re gonna put this on me tomorrow night while I watch you do it in our fucking mirror, baby. And then we’re gonna lose ourselves in each other.”

“Yes, Kenzie. Yes, angel. I will. We will.”

She set it down gently into the box and pulled out the sleeping set as he stepped back toward her, his hands falling down her knees again, kissing her forehead. Kenzie set the box on the counter on top of the others, and held the silky pink satin in her little fingers as Duncan gripped her waist and carefully, with aching gentleness, lifted her down from the edge of the island, so her little face was hovering at the top of his chest, and her eyes were gazing up at him, the curve of her sunburnt cheeks turned to him, the frame of her chestnut hair around her shoulders cast in the sheen of the chandelier, her feet bare. She undid the tie at her waist that held her wrap dress on her small frame, and Duncan pulled it off her shoulders, folding it over and setting it gently on the island beside the boxes.

“Take a shower with me and then let’s go to sleep, please, baby? I’m so sleepy.” She breathed the sweet words up to him, standing there in her little bikini for the last time that day, and Duncan nodded, leaning into her with his own mixture of longing and tiredness, closing his eyes, kicking his sandals off, his hands on her arms and in her hair. She gripped his fingers and pulled him into the bathroom, carefully setting the little satin pyjamas on the bed on their way through the bedroom--their eyes skirted over where the hook and bronze chain had been extended down from the high penthouse ceiling in front of the mirror, but Kenzie continued on to the bathroom, and though Duncan longed to examine it, he resolved to do it later. Plenty of time to look at it, day after day, and dream of all we can use it for. As soon as they stepped into the bathroom, the low hanging lights at their dimmest setting, Kenzie discarded her bikini in a little pile on the cold, seamless stone tiles, stepping inside the glass-doored shower as Duncan pulled his shirt and swim trunks off, stepping in behind her, reaching out to her as steam immediately began to coat the glass. Kenzie was already massaging shampoo into her long hair, scrunching up her nose in the scalding water--if only I could take a picture of this too, Duncan thought, but he knew he’d never forget it regardless. “I love the sea but fuck does it stink,” she laughed a little, and Duncan nodded, smiling into her, kissing her. She reached her soapy hands up and massaged them into his hair, kissing him back, her little tongue slipping between his teeth, then sliding away again before he could twist his own tongue against her, moving under the shower head so the soap washed away from her body, her little face turned up to the stream.

“Kenzie,” he said, thoughtful, contemplative, reaching for the bath sponge along the shower wall, squeezing jasmine soap into it, lathering it in his hands and soothing it down between her little breasts as she stood under the water. Her eyes opened a little, slitted against the pressure of the shower head, looking at him expectantly, her mouth opening to him just a little. He could see the slight dusting of hair that had begun to grow back between her legs (he fought his desire to slip his fingers against her there) and under her arms where she’d lifted them, could see the dusting of sun along her back and collarbones from the beach today.

“Mmm?” Kenzie pulled down the second bottle of Givenchy face cleanser Duncan kept in the shower and squirted some into her hand, lathering it into her face as he ran the sponge along her back, still hesitating to go on. Then he finally spoke. I guess it’ll be today and not tomorrow. It feels like the right time.

“Do you ever want children?”

Kenzie continued to rinse the wash off her face, then rubbed her hands carefully into her eyes and turned, stepping out of the shower’s stream, gripping his arms to bring him under it instead. She eased the sponge out of his fingers, squeezing more soap onto it, her wet hair, now rinsed of shampoo and conditioner, over her shoulder. She ran the sponge down his chest to the top of his groin, the soap sliding down his hips and limp cock and testicles, down his thighs. Her eyes looked up into his, and he knew her answer before she spoke--the answer he’d known already but needed reassurance for.

“No. I don’t, Duncan. Do you?”

She kept staring--she knows what I’m going to say too.

“I don’t, Kenzie. I don’t either.”

Kenzie stepped closer to him, and he watched her breathe out--a sigh of relief.

“Did we talk about this?” Duncan really didn’t know--he tried to recall the conversation, the mention of it. “I feel like I knew that, somehow--that you didn’t want to have any. But I can’t remember when you told me.”

“I don’t think we did, baby. But I think I knew it anyway, too. That you don’t want them either. Maybe it’s...maybe...we heard it? From each other? Like...like we can sometimes. ”

“I still can’t believe that. That we can do that sometimes. It’s...beyond words. Literally.” He laughed a little, then shivered as she continued to move the sponge along his arms and down his back over the rise of his ass. Kenzie playfully pinched him there with a sharp pressure and he writhed away, still laughing, coming back to her, gripping at her wrists to keep her quick little fingers away, pressing his forehead down against hers. ”You better stop that.”

“Or what.” Kenzie giggled and stuck the tip of her tongue out between her teeth at him, trying to wrestle her wrists out of his strong hands.

“Or I’m gonna push you into the glass and fuck you, Princess,” he murmured down into her mouth, his hands still pressing into the soft flesh at the bottom of her palms, feeling her heartbeat through the veins there; rapid and fluttering.

“Duncan Shepherd, I demand you let me go.”

Duncan immediately let go of her, but he could feel the expression of longing that pressed into his face. “I can’t wait to see you in that lingerie, baby. Oh my fucking god, I can’t wait.”

“Try thinking it this time. I wanna see if I can hear you. Think about how much you wanna fuck me, baby.” Kenzie spun around very slowly in the rising mist of the hot water, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder, leaning down just a little and wiggling her curvy ass towards him, straightening up and spinning back around, eyes in his. She reached out, trailing one little finger down from the dip of his collarbone to the space between his breast, down the center of his belly to his bellybutton, dipping her finger in for a moment, then letting it hover in the center of his abdomen, right above the not-entirely-limp rise of his cock. “Think about me. I wanna see if I can hear.”

Duncan stood still for a moment, shivering at the small pressure of her delicate touch, then he thought, carefully, specifically, and tried to push it into her mind, into the space behind her eyes, as he had a few nights ago, Annette between them--but Annette was not between them now, and he gripped her wrists again and pushed her, gently, back, so her shoulder blades fell softly into the fogged glass, and his hands came up around her breasts and he pressed his face down to her neck and kissed her, softly, not speaking, but pressing his feelings into her. Kenzie, I want to tie you up on that hook and lick the soft, wet, sweet space between your legs. I want to fuck your beautiful little pink cunt and your sweet little ass, fuck you until we are lost inside each other and lost in our pleasure, and I want you to come all over my cock and I wanna come inside you until our release runs down between our legs and I want you, baby, I want you all day long, every minute, as soon as we fuck I just wanna fuck you again, I wanna lose myself in your body and your eyes, Kenzie, they’re like stars hovering over a shadowed forest or the bottom of the dark sea with its green and gold relics, like the nebulas of time. Kenzie had arched into him as he went on and on--and he’d felt the push again, flowing out from him, and as he pulled his face away from his attentions at her neck to look at her, the gold flecks had seemed to emerge in her gaze and swirl there, the rings of the planets and the galaxies inside her.

“Like the nebulas of time,” Duncan saw her little mouth move, saw the whisper of his thoughts in the words she spoke. “Baby. I heard that. I heard all of that. I think when we’re touching, it gets stronger. I think that’s how it works best. We have to push and if we are touching, it’s like it’s...a stronger radio signal, or something.”

“Touch me, try me. I wanna see if I can hear you too. Tell me a secret.”

Duncan grasped Kenzie’s hand and pressed it into his chest--spread her fingers carefully so her palm was flat on him and her hand stretched gracefully. She looked up at him in the rising steam, her wet dark-golden hair flat against her head, wetness glistening on her cheeks and on her lips, her eyes still full of whirling flecks of shimmering dust. Then he felt her--felt the pressure of her, the gold cloak of her fall over his mind--it was soothing and sweet and as comforting as a soft bed in a bone-deep tiredness, and he almost felt as if he could taste her, honey and rosewater and apples.

I’ve always wanted to write a book. Something very beautiful and very true and totally mine. But I’ve always been afraid to do it. I’ve always doubted myself. But you, Duncan...you make me feel like anything is possible. That I can bring deer back to life. That I can make Annette love me. That I can write my book. That there is such a thing as a Soulmate, and there is a One for me, and it’s you, it’s you, it’s you baby, it’s you now and forever, the other half of my soul and the body that fits against my body like we’re two breathing pieces of a living puzzle. I believe in everything now. I don’t believe in luck anymore. I believe in destiny, because I’ve found mine. My destiny is you.

Duncan heard himself gasp a little as she let go, and the pressure in his mind lifted away like a tide pulling back out from shore into the sea. “Baby. Yes. I heard you. My destiny is you. You want to write a book. And you don’t believe in luck anymore. And I’m your Soulmate. And I am. And you are mine, baby. You’re mine, too. I heard you, so loud and clear, like you were whispering into my ear.” He pulled her little face against his shoulder and gripped the back of her hair, softly, in his fingers, letting them fall through it, feeling her hands come around his back, the pressure of her nose and the tickle of her eyelashes. “I heard you.” Kenzie lifted her head and looked at him and smiled, and the feeling of her against him was beyond any comfort he’d ever felt from anything else. Beloved, he thought into her, and he felt her rebound the word and wrap herself around it, the gold of her, and push it back into him, so it was echoed in her voice towards him, beloved.

Kenzie moved away from him and turned the knob of the shower. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and squeezed it out so a rivulet of hot water fell down the drain, her eyes on his feet then up over his thighs and his cock, his hands and neck and lips and eyes and his hair. “I really lucked out in the Soulmate department,” she said softly, and he felt shyness press into the back of his mind as she opened the shower door, looking back at him over her shoulder--he tried to think of something that could possibly, ever, somehow, describe the depth of his emotion for her in this moment, trying to think it into her instead, again--whatever you feel towards me, Kenzie, know that my feeling for you is equal to it, if not even greater...what I feel for you is an ocean that doesn’t have a final depth. It knows no end and it only grows with time.

“It knows no end and it only grows with time.” He heard her voice extend towards him as she pulled one of his hydrocotton bath towels down from the hook against the wall and wrapped it around her petite shoulders, her wet hair tucked into it, then reached for another and brought it over to him, clutched in her little fingers--he took it from her lovingly, his fingers falling against hers, then rubbing it down his face and through his hair as he stepped out behind her and she turned to the sink, wrapping the towel around her breasts and reaching for her toothbrush. “I heard that too, baby. I heard everything. How amazing. To feel you that way.” She turned her little face up to him as he came up beside her, sunburned and sleepy and glowing. “To feel the warmth of you inside me. It’s like nothing else I’ve ever felt, either. It’s like you’re the night sky and I’m falling up into you. Oh, baby. It’s so wonderful.”

Duncan wrapped the towel around his waist and pressed his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead, feeling unable to speak again. Sometimes, words just aren’t enough, my love. His emotions right now felt like a color, vast and bright, vibrating and flowing, a color that only materialized out of the ether when they were together like this--a color that belonged only to the two of them, a new color, staggering in its beauty.

“It’s okay, baby,” Kenzie said, holding her toothbrush, covered in turquoise toothpaste, pausing, seeming to recognize the depth of his affectation. “You don’t have to say anything. I can feel you. Even this way. Even confused--even...overwhelmed.” She reached her hand out and soothed it along his arm, and Duncan looked down at her, nodding, his mind clouded over with her. They both brushed their teeth without speaking, the glow still drifting between them, looking at each other carefully in the bathroom mirror, shyly looking away, and looking back again, drawn to each other like two moths to the glow of a warm light. I want to marry you, Kenzie, Duncan thought, unable to stop himself, and he saw the blush fall over her cheeks despite her sunburn as she spit into the sink, rinsing her mouth out--saw the way her eyes fell on him, glittering, consort to his thoughts, saw her rose-colored affection, the provocation his thought stirred in her. We’d have so many flowers, flowers everywhere, lilies and lilacs, roses and lavender and iris and peony, lining every pathway, flowers surrounding you like an altar, flowers in your hair and around your head and flowers for you, goddess of spring, the queen of my heart--the true gold in my life, all riches be damned. Your ring would be a moonstone, because you’re my moonlight and every star dims to you, bows its head--and I can only imagine your gown and its shivering beauty and the sight of you in it and the well of my happiness and my heart spilling over into the endless love I feel for you.

“Ugh, stop thinking such beautiful things, baby. I can’t stand it.”

“I can’t help it. It’s how I feel.”

She slid away from him as he reached across the sink for her, out of the bathroom, looking back at him. Come here. Come to bed, hold me, kiss me in the dark and fall away into sleep with me, beloved, my Prince of Shadow, aching in your beauty.

He came after her, letting his towel fall to the floor, uncaring. Kenzie was slipping the little satin sleeping set over her hips, lifting the camisole over her head, toweling her hair dry as he watched the silken fabric press against her thighs and her little breasts, her nipples visibly hard through it. He slid his hands down around her hips, impossibly smooth in the little pyjamas, standing behind her, pulling her insistently into his nakedness, his nose coming down to smell her--jasmine soap and her shampoo, like lemon and roses and lily. She turned into him, discarding her towel on the floor, too--and then he watched her eyes skirt over to where the chain hung down, glinting in the low light, from the heavy hook now expertly installed in the high penthouse ceiling, and watched her gaze through the mirror beyond it at the shape of them pressed together.

Tomorrow, she thought into him, and he looked at them too, their reflection in the great and provocative mirror that now stretched its wide eye in their room, and he was overcome again by how beautiful she looked in his arms, how small and delicate, her damp hair falling into his hands, the silky-softness of her against his belly and his arms.

“Sleep now, please, baby,” she murmured, and pulled at his hips. At first Duncan followed her, hungry and aching, but then he remembered, with a wave of disappointment, that all of their beach things were still scattered in the hallway, forgotten in the distraction of their desire. They hadn’t even bothered to eat anything for dinner, but he didn’t feel hungry somehow. I expect to be distracted for the rest of my life. If you’ll have me for that long. “Kenzie, we left everything in the hall. I have to go get it. I’ll be right back baby, I promise.” Kenzie was already laying down, looking up at him with hazy eyes, and she nodded a little, tucking her hand under her chin. Duncan pulled the duvet over her and kissed the soft space beside her eyelid, hand against her damp hair--then he went into the closet and pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs, moving through the living room (he noticed Kenzie’s roses had begun to wilt with a touch of sadness--I’ll just have to get her more, he thought) and through the kitchen, eyes skirting over the pink boxes, pulling the black door of the penthouse open and gathering the beach things they’d abandoned, placing them inside the doorway, bringing the picnic basket onto the island, putting the dishes in the long steel sink and the remnants of food away in the big silver fridge. He looked at Kenzie’s succulents as he did this, with long, meandering affection--she wants a garden, he remembered, she wants a house in the country and a garden and some horses to take care of, and when I take over the company, she’s going to have them. It’ll be our secret, beautiful place, away from paps and prying eyes and my mother, away from everything that gets in the way.

When Duncan went back into the bedroom, twenty minutes later, Kenzie was fast asleep, her thumb tucked against her bottom lip, her breathing very slow and even, her damp hair across the pillow. Sleeping beauty, he thought, sentimental--I don’t care, she is. She’s my Briar Rose, my ethereal fae princess, my wood nymph, dancing in the forest clearing, and I come upon her and I’m struck forever with need for her. Ariadne, bathed in moonlight. Persephone, dancing in the flowers, singing, kindling desire and hope in my wine-dark heart. O gods, Fates, whatever have I done in your eyes to deserve her, whatever can I do to deserve her? How can I hear the gentleness of her emotions, the fall of her thoughts, how have you seen fit to bless me, as doubtful and flawed and selfish as I have been? I’m utterly moved inside her embrace, moved by her grace, moved by the gentleness of her soul. I’ll do whatever I can to be worthy of her love. To be inside it is to be redeemed from all darkness, and I’m grateful.

Duncan climbed into bed beside her, switching the lamp off, his eyes falling over the mirror over his shoulder again. It seemed to wink at him; a cascade of secret gold flitted over its surface. His eyes fell with shuddering longing up the length of the chain (the chain I’ll tie her velvet ribbons to, the chain by which she’ll give herself to me in complete devotion, and I can’t even bear to think of it, her trust is so dear to me), then he turned away, overcome, and laid down beside her to watch the shuddering softness of her breath and her eyelids. The full moon is on the night of the Gala, he thought. And it will shine for her and her alone.

Soon after that, Duncan fell asleep, his hand on Kenzie’s pillow, his fingers gently twined around a wave of her golden hair.

--------

He woke first the next day; he could see the lines of tiredness still on Kenzie’s face as she turned away from him in her sleep to fold herself deep into the corner of the bed, faraway in an unknown dream. Duncan pressed his hand through the chestnut waves of her hair, now dried to silkiness during the night--the light was still dim, the morning just arrived, but his mind was already wide awake and buzzing with need--already his thoughts hung low, toward the evening. He felt relieved that Kenzie wouldn’t be going to work today--he reached for his phone on the nightstand, sending Harris a text saying Kenzie would be staying home today and that she would message him to request his supervision if she needed to go anywhere. We should make dinner together tonight, he thought, idly, watching her breathe quietly. I want us to cook together--I think she wants that too. I love that--the idea of coming home to her and making something with her that we can enjoy together. That’s all I ever want to do now--things with her that make her happy.

He climbed out of the bed, reluctant to leave the warmth of her cocoon, and went to the closet, willing himself to move past the mirror, staring at himself in it all the way--it seemed to wink at him again, familiar, full of some secret knowledge it refused to divulge, its mystery captivating. Why do I feel like I’ve seen it so many times? Why do I feel like I know it so well? Why do we both feel like it’s belonged to Kenzie for a long time? How could it have? Duncan moved past it, almost glad to be away from its colossal gaze, into the closet, reaching up to where several of his signature long-sleeved dark-colored Oxford shirts hung in a neat row, and pulled a navy one in jersey down around his shoulders, hand through his hair and around his chin, absently--then buttoned it slowly, up to the curve of his throat right before his adam’s apple. Maybe if I can believe in Soulmates and in Fate and in destiny and if I can accept that my girlfriend and I can read each other’s thoughts, I can accept parallel lifetimes or reincarnation or...something, too. And maybe we really should go see a psychic, hell, I guess I believe in those now, also. Unicorns, I’ll add you to the list, why the hell not.

He reached for his gold Movado today--why not. It’s summer and I’m wildly in love with my Soulmate. Everything gold reminds me of her, so gold it is. He pulled a pair of well-tailored gray chinos on and chose a pair of Louboutin leather balmorals that he particularly liked from his shoe shelves--Duncan clutched them between fingers and thumb and moved out of the closet into the front room, hoping not to wake Kenzie--I really want her to sleep in today. And I want her to have breakfast in bed like the Princess she is. He placed the spotless balmorals on one of the high chairs of the center island, carefully gathering the pink boxes in his arms and moving them to the long leather couch through the divide--then he went back to the kitchen to make breakfast: a simple one for him, a green kale and avocado smoothie with his Vitamix and two pieces of sprouted bread toast with unsalted peanut butter--and a beautiful one for Kenzie on a priceless silver tray that used to belong to Adelaide. It consisted of two more slices of the sprouted bread toasted with strawberry preserves and organic rolled butter, a perfectly ripe avocado, sliced in half with the pit removed, sprinkled with ground pepper, a tiny silver spoon in its soft flesh, and two perfectly peeled and separated clementines, arranged so they fanned like the petals of an opulent flower in a silver bowl with tiny clusters of silver dogberries on the sides (also Adelaide’s--she’d given all of her silver to Duncan in her Will, and most of it was priceless). Grandma would have loved Kenzie. Unlike Mom, she had perfect taste, he thought, going into the dining room and finding one of the cloth napkins in the china cabinet drawers, coming back to place it beside the plate. Mom is too worried about what other people think of her to trust her own instincts entirely. But Grandma would have seen how special she is in an instant, because Adelaide was like that too. Luminous. I could see the way Harris glowed when he mentioned her--Harris loved her. Maybe he really loved her. It seemed to be there in his eyes.

Drifting between these thoughts of his grandmother and his lover, Duncan made Kenzie a medium-roast black coffee in one of his clear glass mugs with the Keurig that lived beside his espresso machine, as sleek, black and silent as the other machine was. Then he poured grapefruit juice (admiring its deep coral color) into the peony glass, water into one of the Waterford tumblers (I’m the black coffee, Kenzie is the rosy juice surrounded by flowers--Hades beside his Persephone), setting the glasses carefully on the tray, carrying it through the kitchen on careful feet, stopping at the coffee table to pull one of the roses (wilting just a little, but still deeply red and beautiful) by the stem out of the bouquet and placing it long-wise on the tray along the back of the glasses. Then he moved on through the bedroom to where Kenzie still lay fast asleep, her hair silky and tossed over the pillow and her shoulder, her little palm open under her cheek, turned away from the doorway. She stirred a little as he sat carefully on his edge of the bed, facing her, holding the tray steadily in his hands. She turned to him, stretching cat-like and almost subconsciously, her hand coming up to the corner of her eye, her mouth opening a little.

“Oooo, baby...is that for me?”

He nodded and smiled at her--words slipping away to behold her sweetness, her loveliness in the morning light. Kenzie sat up, and he felt another burst of painful affection at her sleep-mussed hair, the fall of the satin-and-lace sleeping cami off her shoulder, revealing the dip of her breast to him as she leaned down to straighten herself, her little hands pushing her hair back and coming together in delight as he placed the tray on the mattress in front of her, pushing the duvet away with his arm.

“Dunny, ohhh. You made me breakfast in bed.”

“I should do it every day.” He couldn’t help it--in her eyes he always felt shy, and he could feel the blush on his cheeks, the way he wanted to look away under her gaze because it made him feel so bare. They were impossibly bright this morning, the memory of her dreams still shimmering behind them, and he leaned over the tray to kiss her, his hand coming against her cheek; Kenzie’s little face leaned up to him and he was struck with the smell of her hair, jasmine, roses, lemon, and marveled at the way he could feel every feverish beat of his own heart. He could feel the smile in her kiss and as he pulled away, reluctant, she looked down again at the tray, her little teeth grinning, reaching out to the little silver spoon in the avocado, admiring it, scooping some of the green flesh out and popping it into her mouth. She swallowed, gazing at him, that gold sheen hovering over her. “This tray is really beautiful, and this little silver spoon, and ooo, this little bowl.” She touched the silver dogberries on the bowl that held the clementines, licking the spoon held against her lips.

“They were my grandmother’s. Adelaide, who Harris used to protect. She would have loved you. She wasn’t like Mom. She was beautiful and graceful like Mom, but her energy was different. She was gracious.”

“I wish I could have met her.” Kenzie’s hair fell over her shoulder, catching a burst of early morning sun, as she continued to spoon morsels of avocado into her little mouth. Duncan reached out for her hand and she grasped his fingers, and her touch was like a burst of sweet sunlight into his hand--you’re my sunlight, baby, like a sunbeam right into the center of my soul.

“I do too, baby.”

Duncan pulled his phone off the nightstand as he watched her--he couldn’t help it. Kenzie looked so beautiful this way, sunlight on her face just-so, her hair falling in a golden wave over her shoulder, her face turned down with a radiant smile, the strap of her cami off one shoulder, silver spoon poised in her hand. She reached for the grapefruit juice, and he knew she recognized the peony glass--her eyes looked up at him with affection and he was ready, snapping a picture before she could protest.

“Ugh, oh no, baby, I’m all messy.” Kenzie made a face at him, sticking out her tongue.

“No, you aren’t. You’re fucking beautiful. Can we make dinner together tonight, baby? I wanna cook with you. I’d really love to do that.” He lowered his phone, recognizing the need in his voice, but he didn’t care. With you I will always say what I feel, Kenzie.

“I would love that. What should we make? Oo, baby, Claire gave me this recipe the other day--well, a few weeks ago, I guess--it’s for vegetable fried rice but it has quinoa instead of rice. It looked so good, I really want to try it.” He watched her talk, the tiny motions of her hands and her shoulders as she reached for the toast, bringing it up to her lips, taking a bite, watching the incline of her neck and the tiny shifts of her eyes and the flutter of her eyelashes, and Duncan felt lost in her--full of gratitude again to even be near her, an emotion he was becoming deeply intimate with. “That sounds really good, baby,” he replied, reaching for her hand again. She lifted her eyes up to him.

“Duncan. I’m so happy.”

“I am too. To be with you. It’s like...my heart is constantly so full. It’s so--”

“Amazing.” Kenzie nodded. “It’s extraordinary. It’s fucking bliss.”

Bliss. That was the word.

“Here, baby,” Duncan reached over to his nightstand, ripping a memo off a pad of sticky notes stacked there beside a glass with several expensive fountain pens in it--it had been originally placed there for work notes when he woke up at night in the past, thinking about the show or the app or the company--but it had become obsolete to him in the past week. Like everything that isn’t her--it’s part of my old life. And its purpose has changed. Now, it’s for Kenzie to write grocery lists or me to write her name over and over and over. Mackenzie Stone. Mackenzie Louise Stone. Mackenzie...Shepherd. Mackenzie Shepherd. He shivered at his own longing. “Write down anything you want the concierge to get today for dinner--and anything else you want. They’ll deliver it this afternoon. I already texted Harris for you and told him you aren’t going to work.”

Kenzie took the paper and fountain pen from him, munching on her slices of clementine, her expression still turned to him, full of affection. “We could make dumplings too, I’m pretty good at them, Claire and I did them together one time and it’s fun to fold them.”

“I’ve made them before too, actually,” Duncan said, smiling shyly at her. “I’ve spent a lot of time cooking for myself since I turned 18 and moved out of my mother’s house. As soon as I moved in here I started buying cook books like crazy because I didn’t want to hire a chef. It made me...less lonely, I guess.”

Kenzie reached for him. He grasped her hand, tightly, emotion bubbling in him.

“I’m not lonely anymore, baby. I’m so far from lonely now that you’re here.”

“Good. I love you so much.” Kenzie leaned over the silver tray again, and their lips came together, deeply, with aching hunger. She tasted wonderfully sweet, the citrus falling into his mouth, the creamy taste of the avocado and the butter lingering there. “Ooo, how about green tea ice cream, too.”

“I love green tea ice cream.”

“Of course you do, because you have excellent taste.” She grinned at him, then turned down to write ingredients on the little paper, leaning over to grab her phone and find the recipe. He watched her quietly as she wrote, then paused to look at the phone screen where she’d pulled up a recipe website, reading carefully as she pressed the edge of the pen into her bottom lip, and Duncan wanted to pull her against him and kiss her more, wanted to push the tray away and press her down into the bed and pull the satin demandingly away from her shoulders and cup her roughly in his hands in the dappled sunlight over the bed--yesterday was so short. I long for you.

“I can’t wait for tonight, baby,” he murmured to her, unable to stop himself. “I can’t wait to tie you up in that lingerie.” He heard Kenzie’s breath catch and she paused her furious writing, lifting her eyes to him. He grasped the peony glass in his long fingers, lifting it to lips, his stare unwavering, taking a long mouthful, licking the tanginess from his lips, slowly. I’m going to devour you.

“I can’t wait to wear it for you, Prince Duncan.” At that, Kenzie went up on her knees and carefully pushed the tray aside, crawling over to him across the sheet--Duncan’s head went hazy-soft as Kenzie climbed into his lap, her legs straddling his thighs, the soft weight of her ass pressing into his crotch. She was so small in his arms--he was struck by it again, a wave of desire. His hands fell up and down the satin of the little pink-and-black-lace sleeping set he’d gotten for her, marveling at its softness on her, marveling at how perfectly it fit against her little body--staring into her hazel eyes, loving the sweet smell of her pressed to him.

“Ugh, baby, I don’t wanna go to work,” he whined. “Not at all. I wanna fuck you, baby, right now, I wanna kiss every inch of you.”

“Awwww, poor baby, my poor Dunny,” she murmured into him, pouting with a mocking smile. “My poor baby wants it real bad, huh. You wanna fuck me real bad, huh, baby.”

“Yes,” and at that Duncan clutched her more harshly into him, digging his fingers harshly into her skin, pressing his mouth roughly into her neck, sucking and biting. Kenzie moaned into him, turning her little head up, her hair falling back, and his hand fell down between the silkiness of her thighs, fondling at her folds there, feeling the mound of her sex over the slippery fabric that covered her. He whispered up into her ear, his nerves on fire. “Play with yourself when you’re here alone today, baby. Play with yourself and think about me. I’ll go somewhere alone and I’ll make myself come and I’ll think of you, I’ll think of how I’m gonna fuck you tonight, how hard I’m gonna fuck you, Princess, angel, baby--”

Kenzie was nodding and rolling her hips against him, her breath shallow, shivering at the feeling of his lips on her ear, her tiny hands coming up to grip at the stubble of his cheeks, fall into his hair. “Uh huh, okay, baby, I’ll make myself come--” she shuddered again, more violently, and Duncan gasped at the sweet feeling of her against him, “--and I’ll think of you, I promise--I’ll touch myself for you--I have this vibrator, I didn’t show you yet--”

“Ugh, baby. Show me.”

Kenzie continued to shiver in his arms--Duncan moved his face away from her neck and stared into her feverishly glimmering eyes. “Show me, baby, please. I wanna see it.”

Kenzie nodded, biting her lip, climbing off his lap, trailing her fingers down his thighs as he gazed at her face. That’s it, baby, get yourself worked up. I want you to think about what I’m gonna do to you tonight all day. I want you to be so wet while we make dinner that you can’t stop thinking about me fucking you on the counter, I want your panties to be soaked from your thoughts when you take them off to put that silky tulle on your beautiful skin. I want to tie you up and fuck you for hours tonight. Fuck you until we’re totally exhausted and can’t even move anymore. Fuck you until we can’t breathe. Fuck you until every part of us is so sensitive it hurts for us to touch each other and still we’ll touch anyway because to touch you is to be soothed by a goddess. Let me worship you. I’m gonna worship you.

Kenzie went to one of the boxes of her belongings that still clustered around the corner (Duncan watched the sway of her body in the little pink satin pyjamas, her legs bare, her hair over her shoulder, her expression suddenly dazed with arousal); she pulled books from one until she found the thing she was looking for--it looked like a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, but she opened the cover and Duncan realized it was a secret box made to look like a book, its interior hollow. She lifted out a small pink toy--one end had a rounded vibrating egg, and a short cord extended down from it to a battery square with a knob, climbing in intensity from 1 to 5. She turned the knob and Duncan could hear the small electric sound of the vibrator turning on. The egg end hummed against her hand.

“I’m gonna use this while you’re away today and when I come--and fuck, baby, this little thing makes me come so hard--I’m gonna scream your name, and think about what you’re going to do to me tonight.” Duncan could see that she was shivering as she said it, goosebumps lifting on her arms. His cock pressed into the tailored crotch of his chinos and he moaned to look at her, to hear what she was saying. Kenzie lowered the little egg between her legs, letting it press gently against the satin of her little pyjamas there, staring at him expectantly, still visibly shivering.

“Fuck, baby, I wanna watch--” Duncan couldn’t stop himself, fuck, I want to watch her use that on herself so fucking bad, but Kenzie bit her lip, her expression amused, shaking her head.

“No, baby. You have to be patient and wait and go to work. And at some point today when you’re alone, you have to touch yourself and think about my mouth on your cock, think about your cock fucking my pussy and my little ass, wet for you, and you have to stroke yourself until you come for me. And then we’re gonna make dinner together when you get home. And then you’re going to tie me up and buckle that fucking gorgeous rose choker tight around my neck and fuck me senseless. Do as I say, okay? Do what I told you to do, baby.”

“Yes, baby. Yes, Kenzie.” I could fucking die inside your eyes, Kenzie. I love it when you command me. I’ll tie you up but I’m your slave and I know you know that. I’d do anything you told me to do, baby. Divine and staggering in your beauty, my Kenzie, beloved angel of heaven.

Kenzie put the vibrator back into the hollowed book, setting it back into the box, a satisfied air to her now--she stood up very straight, completely awake now, sleep brushed away from her, and she climbed back onto the bed on the opposite side so he couldn’t grab onto her. Duncan reached for her but she said “No, Dunny, let me eat my breakfast.” And he stopped, his breath harsh, full of terrible crimson-gold-flushed waves of need for her. She stared into his eyes--the golden nebula of her soul--and lifted the clementines to her lips, and devoured them until none were left, and he did not look away, trapped in her gaze--no, not trapped, he thought, aching. Completely supplicant to her. I don’t want to be away from her. I want to stay inside her eyes always, for her gaze is sanctity in my sight. I am your most faithful, devoted lover, Mackenzie. Whatever you will--it is my desire to realize it. I’m yours until I lie in my grave, feeding flowers that will grow in your honor.

-------

Duncan was slipping the balmorals on his feet as Kenzie carefully moved the little silver dishes to the sink to rinse them, still wearing her little satin sleeping set--Duncan already loved it fiercely, and knew the image of her wearing it would grow to be ingrained in him with time, a certain memory of many days to come. “Is it okay to put vintage silver in the dishwasher?” she asked, turning her head around to him, holding up the little bowl with dogberries along the side.

“It is, actually, just put them in without any other dishes and run the cycle by itself,” Duncan replied, smiling at her attention to detail. “I’ll ask Anchaly to tell the housekeepers to skip us today so you have privacy.”

“Okay, baby,” Kenzie replied softly, moving away from the sink and coming up to where he stood at the table beside the front door, pushing his wallet down into the back of his fitted chinos, a pair of squarish Gucci sunglasses he’d chosen for today in his hand. “Have a very--” and here she leaned up, her long chestnut hair brushed out now and floating around her in delicate waves, her little feet tiptoeing to reach his face, kissing his stubbled cheek before he could turn his face into hers--”good--” and now she pressed a kiss to the other cheek--”day--” and she finally let him gather her against him now, tenderly pressing her open mouth against his, and Duncan wrapped his arms around her, greedy for the scent and taste and feeling of her against him, the satiny texture of her little pyjamas, the soft fall of her hair and her arms and her tongue brushing against his.

“It’s so hard to leave you, every fucking time--” he whispered into her, his voice aching in his ears, and he felt it in his bones, how true the words were.

“Baby, just think about how fucking wonderful tonight’s going to be. And text me when you’re alone later. I want to know when you’re thinking about me.”

“Kenzie, I am always thinking about you.”

She smiled into him. “Don’t forget to give Anchaly that list. When do you think you’ll be home?”

Home. Home is when I’m with you, Kenzie. We could be anywhere and if you’re there, it’s home.

“5 at the latest, I think. We don’t have too much to do today, the news has been slow--well, except for you and me, I guess, baby.”

“Claire texted me, BPF posted all the stuff we put on Instagram on their website already. They should be giving us royalties or something.” Kenzie rolled her eyes, but Duncan could see the smile in them. That’s right world, we’re together, get used to it, he thought, smiling in return to her. Then he grew serious again for a moment, lost in thoughts of Shepherd Unlimited and the soon-to-be-defunct Gardner Analytics.

“I’m wondering when I should tell Melody I’m planning to dismantle the show and the app when I take over for my uncle. She’s done a lot of work on them and I don’t think she’s going to be happy about it. Of course I plan to rehire her for another position in the company if she wants one, but…”

“I guess there’s a possibility she’d be upset enough to tell Annette about your plans.” Kenzie went down on her heels, leaning away from him.

“A very real possibility. I feel bad for concealing it from her, though. As I said, she’s worked hard on them. But Mom messaged me yesterday--my uncle is getting sicker faster than the doctors originally thought. Apparently he’s going to be in confinement by the end of the month. Which means I’m going to be taking over a lot sooner than we originally thought.”

A serious expression came into Kenzie’s eyes. “So that means Momby and I would be going on the board a lot sooner, too.”

“Yes. Probably by the end of next month.”

Kenzie blew out a long breath, and Duncan stood before her, his hand falling down the waves of hair over her shoulder. Kenzie is so fucking beautiful. Baby, you look like a fucking angel right now, in your little pink satin, your hair silky-soft down your back, your little face scrunched up so serious. Your eyes are like fucking stars. And you’re mine. And I still can’t believe it.

Then Kenzie nodded, as though she’s felt or heard his tenderness. She probably did. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it, baby. We’ll get through everything. I have such a hopeful feeling inside me every day now. Like something fell into place and now everything is moving, traveling on into the future.”

“I feel that way too, baby. Like our destiny is in motion. I love you. I’ll see you later tonight.” He lifted her face up to him with the tips of his fingers and kissed her once more, open-mouthed, closing his eyes, and he saw when he opened them and pulled away that Kenzie’s were still closed and her mouth still open just a little in a rapturous visage of desire, and he thought she looks like the Ecstacy of St. Theresa, glowing in the light of an angel, only she is the angel, the angel is her, and the ecstacy is mine. As Duncan went out into the hall, he turned around and saw her little face peeking at him through the doorway for a moment, then she smiled and blew him a kiss, and Duncan pretended to catch it in midair and pressed his hand against his heart, turning away from her, recalcitrant, as the door swung shut, slipping his dark sunglasses over his eyes.

-------

Duncan was drifting through the day--he had stayed tight-lipped at the paps who were hanging out outside Shepherd Hall (“Where’d you go on your baecation this weekend, Duncan?” Gary Spencer had called out to him as Ricky Aspen (Gary’s token photographer) snapped his camera, angled at Duncan’s face) and Duncan had shot daggers toward him, pressing his lips together defiantly) despite their insistence. He had tried to appear interested in the episode overview and the charts regarding the apps “numbers”, but he was utterly absorbed in the thought of Kenzie’s promise to use the little pink egg on herself (I’m gonna scream your name); his thoughts made him feel too hot, his mind smoky and thick, his groin throbbing and aching, making him shift in his seat, restless to be alone. Seth and Melody continually gave him sidelong glances over the long conference table as Richard, one of the showrunners, rambled on about Claire’s prolonged breakdown, entering its fourth week. Annette was probably expecting him at another meeting today, this one regarding finishing details about the Gala, but Duncan bristled at the thought of seeing her, angry at her treatment of Kenzie on Saturday--storming out on her like a child when you insisted on consuming her day. And none of you know I’m secretly meeting with Claire Underwood on Thursday, best to keep it that way, Duncan thought, shifting again, trying to refocus on something that wasn’t the dip of Kenzie’s pale skin around her throat, the softness of the space behind her jaw under her ear where he liked to press his fingers, continually amazed by how delicate she was, or the space between her breasts where he could feel her heartbeat if he pressed his lips there, or the sweet ache between her legs (me pressing my lips there yesterday as I held her legs apart and sucked at her and she cried out for me over and over, fuck, or my come falling down the side of her mouth as she sucked me dry), but dipped back down into the endlessness of her, the whirling storm of her. God, when will this meeting be fucking over. Everything is a waiting game now. None of you know what I’m going to do when Bill dies. And he’s going to die soon.

“How long, exactly, do you think it will take for the paps to not be swarming around here every single day like we’re Beyonce’s entourage, Duncan?” Melody leaned over the table, and Duncan looked up from where he’d been gazing into space, imagining Kenzie in her little satin pyjamas, straddling his lap, murmuring into his mouth. He hadn’t noticed when the meeting adjourned, and some of the other crew for the show had already left the conference room--Richard was staring at him from the head of it, a frown creasing his brow.

I guess we’re back to not being friends. Duncan sat up, blinking at her, crashing down from his heavenly imaginings. “Melody, what the fuck, may I ask, would you like me to do about it?”

“I dunno, maybe stop posting photos of your half-clothed girlfriend on Instagram every day?”

Duncan looked over at Seth, whose eyes skirted away from both of them as if there was something extremely interesting going on outside the window. Duncan felt a flare of anger course down the back of his skull, felt his teeth clench at the insinuating tone of Melody’s voice. Everyone’s obsessed with Kenzie, and I understand why, but god, I hate the idea of people wishing her ill. I hate the idea of anyone thinking cruelly towards her. When it came to Kenzie, he wished he could surround her in an impenetrable cocoon of safety, an invisible barrier between her and all the evil intentions of the outside world. She’s my Joan of Arc--far too wonderful, too brave, too bright for any of you.

“I’ll post photos of her whenever the fuck I feel like it in whatever the fuck she happens to be wearing. Lay the fuck off, Melody.” Melody’s eyes flashed at him and she shoved out of her seat, yanking the conference room door open and stalking out.

“Duncan,” Seth was the only other person in the room now besides him, Richard having made a beeline for the door as soon as Melody had shot her venomous question at Duncan. “Be forgiving of her. She’s...I don’t know how happy she is with the work lately, to be honest. And I have to say this, because it should have been said a long time ago, but Melody has been in love with you for...years, and seeing you with someone else this way is just...a lot for her.”

“Seth, what.” Fuck, I should have realized that. I did realize that. I knew she was. But I have never felt that way about her and god, that night I was fucking hammered out of my mind, and I knew it was a mistake right away. But my apology was late, wasn’t it. Really late. Fuck. And I convinced myself I was imagining that she was romantically interested in me. I pretended like I didn’t know because I was trying not to hurt her feelings. But somehow I’ve done that anyway.

“I agree that you don’t have any obligation to engage emotionally with someone who you don’t share the same affections with,” Seth said, carefully. “And for all intents and purposes you seem to have issued the apology she was looking for--but just forgive her, I guess, is what I’m saying. Melody and I have spent a lot of time together, and…” Seth trailed off.

“You care about her.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” Seth looked at him, and Duncan was surprised to see how much warmth was hiding behind his eyes. In fact, Duncan thought, it seems as though you might, in fact, be the one who loves her, huh, Seth?

“Seth. Don’t worry. I’m not going to fire her if that’s what you think. There are...changes on the horizon for this company. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, at least to a certain extent. I’m going to have the power to move the people in this company where they will be most happy and well-placed. And I really do mean happy, Seth. Soon, Melody will have her pick of where she wants to be regarding Shepherd Unlimited. I give you my word.”

Seth was quiet for a long time; he seemed to regard Duncan with a mixture of suspicion and wary vulnerability.

“Duncan, you’ve really changed lately.”

“I know it. God, I fucking know it.”

“It’s that woman, isn’t it. The woman you’re with now. Mackenzie Stone.”

“Yes, Seth. It is her. She’s made me the happiest man on earth. I want to spread it outward and give it to others, too. It’s like I...I really understand that I have too much now. And it needs to be shared.”

“If I’d heard you say something like that a year ago, I think I would’ve thought you’d gone the way of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Annette must be absolutely nonplussed.”

“She is. It’s been interesting to attempt to navigate all of this with her.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Go comfort Melody.”

Seth slid up from his chair and gave him one last long look, then nodded. “Mr. Shepherd.” Then he smiled a little, and Duncan smiled back at him, lifting his water glass to his mouth as Seth left the room. Duncan waited for the door to click shut, then he stood and went to it, snapping the lock into position. Then he went to the second door to the room across the other side of the table and snapped the lock there too. Duncan pulled the blinds of the long office windows down carefully. Next, he went to a side-table that had a box of tissues atop it, pulling several out and gripping them in his hand, then he sat back down in the chair he’d been in for the past half hour, setting the tissues on the smooth surface of the conference table, carefully unbuckling his belt. He went to his text messages and typed to Kenzie.

I’m alone now baby. Can’t stop thinking about you in my lap like that. Can’t stop thinking about putting that rose choker around your soft little white neck. Can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you’re going to look in that white lingerie. I’ve been lost in thoughts of you all day. Just totally lost to you, baby.

He saw the telltale text bubbles pop up underneath almost immediately.

Baby, I’m taking my clothes off for you now, laying down on the bed for you. Are you touching yourself yet?

Duncan set his phone down on the table in front of him and finished unbuckling his belt, pulling down the button and zipper of his chinos, slipping a warm hand down into the waistband of his tight briefs, bringing his rigid cock up so it was standing to attention, pressing into his stomach with the waistband holding it there. He grasped his hand over it and turned his phone towards his unbuttoned crotch and the fist over the head of his cock. He snapped the photo and sent it to her, adding a short bit of text: Yes, baby.

The text bubbles appeared again.

Show me, baby. Take a picture of your bare hard cock for me so I can look at it while I press that egg into my clit, baby, god it feels fucking good, almost as good as when you’re fucking me. I have it right here beside me on the bed now, and I’m naked, I took off everything I was wearing and laid here for you. I’m waiting for you to tell me I can start.

Fuck, Duncan thought. Fuck, Kenzie, you are the most erotic, the most alluring, the most exquisite person I have ever met. You’re so goddamn fucking beautiful. I keep trying to find words for you but they haven’t been invented yet. You’re beyond my dreams--you’re the only person I will ever truly love and I know it with every part of me. Duncan’s thumb slid over the precum that was already leaking from the head of his cock, slathering it along the sensitive underside of where his shaft began, and jerked his hand along the length, down about halfway. He angled his phone’s camera on his crotch again, moving his hand, pushing his pants and briefs down further so its hardness, its thick need, was exposed. He moved his hand along the precum again, wetting his cock’s length. Then he took the photo and hit send; his large hand was pressed to the side of his erection, so though only half of it was exposed in his waistband, the evidence of his length was apparent. Start now, baby, he added in text underneath. Think about how I’m gonna fuck you long and hard in a few hours  and you’re gonna watch me do it in all your glorious beauty.

Duncan felt dizzy as he dragged his fingers along his length in the quiet conference room. Kenzie thinking about me fucking her raw as she works at her clit in our bed, her little naked body lying on top of the duvet, her legs spread, her hair tossed into the pillow, her head turned up and her eyes fluttering and her mouth open with need, like holy fucking fuck, baby, my fucking angel, my beloved, wild and sublime, my goddess in the throes of her desires.

Nothing from her end for a minute--Duncan jerked needily at his cock under his briefs, little moans falling out of his mouth as he read her texts to come before--baby, I’m taking my clothes off for you now. Then a photo came through his phone--Kenzie staring into the camera, bare neck and the roundness of her little breasts exposed, one of her hands clutched between them, the other lifting the phone to take the photo, her nipples hard, an expression of need on her face, her eyes heavy-lidded and her lips parted just a little. You have to come, okay, baby? You have to touch yourself until you come. Think about how you fucked my tight little ass the other night, baby, made me dissolve into screams of ecstasy under your hands, Dunny baby, stared into my eyes as you did, made me look at you, fuck, made me look into your sky eyes, my love.

Fuck, angel, he replied, typing carefully with his thumb as he worked at himself, biting into his lip as the sensations riding through his cock rose in intensity. This picture. I’m going to keep it forever, a secret just for me. God, baby, you look so fucking gorgeous. I can’t wait to see you, I’m going to kiss every part of you, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, angel baby.

Kenzie: I want you to spank me tonight. I want you to spank me hard when I’m tied up, spank me and grab my neck and choke me because I’m yours. I want you to do it, baby. Do as I tell you, okay? I’m gonna tell you to spank me and I want you to do it until I tell you to stop. Please, baby. I want it. I want you to be rough with me.

Okay, baby. I will, he replied, shuddering under his own grip on his length. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Duncan imagined Kenzie’s little mewling cries as his hands came down hard against her soft skin, the keening of her hips as she fell against his palms, the pressure of her little neck under his hand as he clasped her with demanding fingers. Whatever you want baby, whatever makes you feel good, he typed, I’d do it a thousand times if you told me to, your pleasure is everything to me. Are you using it on yourself?

Kenzie: Yes, baby, god I’m so wet for you and it’s making me fucking ache for you, you’ve been so patient and I wanna make you feel so good tonight, I wanna give you all of myself, my body totally at your mercy my beloved, my sweet beautiful Prince, baby.

Duncan felt the shudder of his orgasm rising and he snatched the tissues from the table, bringing them carefully along the underside of his cock, emptying himself into them, gasping into the force of his release, leaning over the chair as he came, his body wracked for a moment with the force of it. “Uhh, Kenzie, baby, Kenzie--” Fuckkk. He looked down at his phone again as he gasped, and saw Kenzie had texted him again--Fuck baby, I just came so hard, I screamed for you like I told you I would, I’m lying here, shuddering and naked and thinking only of you in our bed and your big beautiful hands and your big gorgeous cock and your beautiful mouth and your eyes like the sky full of storms, I need you, Duncan, I need you and I’m aching for you baby.

Duncan used the tissues to carefully wipe the dampness from his crotch, wincing a little, crumpling them in his hand, carefully pushing his now-sensitive cock back down into his briefs, buttoning and zipping his pants, standing on shaking limbs to toss the tissues into a nearby trash can, then turned back to his phone and typed. Fuck, Kenzie, I need YOU, I need you every minute, I can’t think of anything but you, everything is you, the sky and the stars and the moon and the ocean yesterday was you and every flower and every beautiful thing is only half as beautiful as you, your eyes are like gold-flecked galaxies and your hair is like liquid sunlight and your mouth is sweeter than any fruit to me, and the space between your legs sweeter than the nectar of any god, your body so small and exquisite under my hands every time you give yourself to me. I came with your name on my lips because I belong to you forever and when I see you tonight I’m going to make you feel it, going to give you every bit of my devotion, going to press wild prayers into your body.

He hit send. Then he typed I love you, I love you, I love you.

Kenzie: And I love you, until the last star fades.

Until the last star fades.

He typed again. See you in a few hours, baby. I’m going to make you feel so wonderful. I swear I will, on everything, on the sun and the moon and the stars and the universe inside your eyes.

Kenzie: Baby, you already do, you’re my beloved, exalted in my eyes. See you soon. She left a long line of lipstick stain emojis after it.

Exalted. Something about the word was so familiar and so comforting. It was the best word to describe how he felt to be around her. Exalted: lifted up, held high in esteem. Blessed by your eyes, blessed by your thoughts, your touch, your grace, your love, Kenzie. Exalted in the eyes of a goddess. How could anything ever be so beautiful.

Duncan unlocked the door, took a deep, shuddering breath, and went to wash his hands.

------

The meeting for the Gala was unbearably tedious and redundant, and Duncan had stayed tight-lipped at his mother’s angry expression when she saw him--she had glared at him across yet another conference table, this one in a Shepherd Hall room a few floors up from the one they used for the show downstairs, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Duncan had gazed off her right shoulder into space instead, hand trailing along his jaw, his thoughts on Kenzie in the red dress he’d bought her at Nancy’s shop, redoubled on his imaginings of flowers in her hair, thought blushingly of his imaginings of their wedding, the hundreds of flowers surrounding them, the delicate moonstone on her finger, crystals and white and pink roses twined through her hair, a dress made of yards of lace and tulle, a delicate dress only a goddess would wear. I’ll get her peonies today, he thought, as soon as this fucking meeting is over, peonies to replace her roses that are slowly wilting, I’ll always make sure she has fresh flowers now, the goddess of spring can’t be without her flowers. Kenzie wants a garden, but I swear her touch alone could make things grow, pull verdant art from the ground.

Annette had approached him after, about to say something biting, no doubt, her mouth opening in a downwards tilt (she’d been wearing a black cashmere wrap dress with a sash and low pointed black heels, her neck bare, as usual), but Duncan had leaned down to her, kissing her cheek (he felt her stiffen in surprise, felt her anger melt under his touch), and then he turned away. “Duncan--” Annette had said after him, but he noticed the biting tone he’d expected to hear from her expression seemed to have faltered, and his name came out softer, more confused, from the back of her throat.

“I love you, Mom,” was all he’d said, stopping for moment, his back still turned to her, and then he’d walked away from her, and she hadn’t tried to follow him. I love you, but I won’t suffer your ill will towards her. I simply won’t do it. You will come to understand that. Already I feel as though this company is in my hands. I can feel the future coming, it’s nearly the present. It’s nearly here, its weight falling down on me, and I can’t do this without her by my side, it simply can’t become without her. Nothing of me can be without our destinies tied as they are. And this company will become nothing if we don’t change it. The Fates have already set in motion the thread of the events to come, I feel it acutely, it’s being spun now and soon, when Uncle BIll dies, it will be alloted. He could feel the ways in which Annette was fighting against that thread--could feel his mother trying to snap it, trying to stop it somehow, but Duncan knew that his destiny, now as clear as crystal, could not be broken by the will of Annette Shepherd. As he slid into the backseat of the BMW a few minutes later, he smiled up at Samuel, whose good humor was as bright as a warm lantern in the dark today, Ella on the stereo (I love the looks of you, the lure of you, the sweet of you, the pure of you, the eyes, the arms, the mouth of you) the interior of the car very cool and even compared to the hot June day outside, the sky full of cumulus clouds.

“I’ll be requesting that we stop at English Rose Garden very often in the future, Samuel,” Duncan added to Samuel as they glided away from the curb, having asked his chauffeur to make a stop there now. He took his sunglasses off to look Samuel in the eyes through the rearview, evenly. “I want Kenzie to always have fresh flowers in the house. She told me her dream is to have a garden house. If I can’t give her a garden yet, I’m determined to bring the garden to her.”

“That’s lovely, Mr. Shepherd. She’s like a garden herself, isn’t she.” Samuel’s eyes skirted between him and the road. “To be near her is to feel flowers around your heart.”

“Exactly, Samuel. Exactly.”

“I’ve heard Mr. Bill is not very well these days, Mr. Shepherd.”

Samuel glanced at him in the mirror, then back at the road. Duncan hesitated, hand moving up to his chin. You know you can trust Samuel. He’s been your closest confidant since you were still in a car booster seat.

“Samuel, I want you to know that I plan to reorganize this company. I know I can trust you to tell you this--I trust you with my life. Kenzie and I are...we’re going to make Shepherd Unlimited into something that will help the world. I want you to know that.”

Samuel suddenly laughed--his face had broken out into a radiant smile, and it made Duncan laugh too. Kenzie has made me realize that to spread joy is the greatest of all emotions, the strongest and the most lasting.

“Duncan,” and to hear Samuel call him by his first name brought pinpricks of emotion into Duncan’s eyes--Samuel hadn’t called him that for years, not since he was a child. “Duncan. To hear you say this makes me so happy. I am speechless. Mackenzie has kindled your best self. I am moved beyond words to see this change in you. Love is truly everything.”

Duncan felt a tear fall down his cheek. So what. Let Samuel see. I’m moved beyond words, too. It was all he could do to nod at the other man, nod and smile and feel the depth of this moment, sure inside it that Samuel was right, that love was everything; the only thing.

------

It was a little after 5; Duncan was finally at the penthouse door, a wildly beautiful bouquet of pink-and-white peonies under his arm--he felt like his body was vibrating to finally be home, finally be within close proximity to her embrace. Kenzie had posted several pictures on her Instagram throughout the day, tagging him in all of them--one of them with the sunlight over her shoulder, succulents along the kitchen window behind her (our little garden @duncanshepherd), one of the three photos he’d found in one of her boxes, clustered together on the bathroom wall now (he could tell from the light fixtures and the corner of Kenzie’s face which was visible from the angle that caught the side of the mirror beside the framed pictures), Kenzie with Momby, with Claire at Disneyland, and with her father. I just need one of us here now, @duncanshepherd. There was another of three of her little china birds (a robin, a partridge, a raven) all clustered on Duncan’s study desk, around his expensive fountain pens and a heavy paperweight in the shape of Atlas, holding up the Earth. To keep him company @duncanshepherd. Another of her sun and moon chimes, now hanging near one of the reading chairs in the living room, the expanse from his long picture window visible from behind them. Up in the clouds with @duncanshepherd.

Now everyone will know we’re living together, he thought. And instead of feeling apprehensive, Duncan felt a thrill. That’s fucking right. We are. Now you know Mom, now you know Madeline, now you know, World.

“Kenzie,” he called into the penthouse as he opened the door. “Baby, I’m home, where--” and suddenly he saw her racing toward him from the sink, a radiant smile in her eyes, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, her mouth falling against his (“baby, baby, baby,” she breathed into him), and she tasted like mint and smelled like roses and Duncan thought oh god, thank the gods, thank you, relief washing over him to be in her arms again. Kenzie was wearing a white, lacy strap-sleeve top (one of the straps hung down low off her shoulder, like her satin pyjamas last night), cropped just below her ribcage and coming down in a V over her little bosom--Duncan saw the moon diamond necklace there, heart racing--and a floor-length dark navy skirt with bursts of red flowers that seemed to float into him as she wrapped herself against him; Duncan lifted her up into him with his arm clutched around the bottom of her back, lost in her kisses for a long moment, her hair falling against his cheeks as if to kiss them too--she’s so small in my arms, he thought again, and not just that, but her trust in me is what I feel--her trust in me to hold her how she wants to be held, to touch her just so, to speak the secret language into her skin that one the two of us know. He set her down, but their lips didn’t part--Kenzie brought her hands up to his jaw and held him down against her, and he had to fight the sudden urge to toss the peonies to the floor and rip the clothes off her body right there.

“I saw that your roses were wilting--” he spoke into her mouth, pulling back--”and these reminded me of you so much--of that little water glass.” He watched Kenzie’s face, the brightness of it as her eyes widened over the clusters of soft-hued flowers, hair in her eyes, and she said “Ohh, Duncan. These are lovely. Thank you, baby. I--I really love them.” He saw the tears at the edges of her eyes and pressed another insistent kiss into her--”I just wanna buy you flowers every day now, baby--” and Kenzie laughed and the diamonds around her neck flashed and Duncan couldn’t help it, he reached his hand up and grasped it and rested his skin against her over her heart there and his other hand fell down over the back of her hair and he tried to kiss her again but she turned her face so his lips fell on her face, right on the space beside her eye and she murmured “Baby, you can buy me as many flowers as you want, I love them so much, it’s like I have a garden here, kiss me, kiss my neck baby--” and Duncan moaned into her softness and said “Kenzie, I missed you so much today,” and moved his mouth down to the space below her ear and then down to the dip of her little neck into her shoulder and he lifted her up into him again with the flowers still in her arms the better to reach her.

“How was your day?” She gasped into his touch, and Duncan lifted her back down, again, reluctantly, his mind full of bursts of bright need for her. “Ugh, it was the longest day of all time, except for when we were texting--” Kenzie pulled away from him, stepping back while she stared at him for another moment, arms full of flowers, and he could see the mischief in her eyes--baby is gonna get me worked up first, I see, be patient, Duncan. He moved towards her as she turned away from him, going under the sink where he knew she’d seen him get the other vase--there were several others there, another crystal Waterford and three of varying size, painted in gold leaf, their lips artistically wavy. Kenzie leaned down to one of the gold vases and pulled it out, lifting the peonies out of their soft paper wrapping and arranging them inside it on the counter, using the tap (turning the filter attachment) to fill it with water--Duncan’s hands came around her, and he pressed his cheek into the side of her head, his stomach against her back, still full of wild relief to be close to her again. “--I loved that, baby.”

“I did too,” Kenzie said in a quiet voice, but he could hear her delight, hovering just around the edges. She turned to him with the vase in her arms. Duncan pulled his phone out of his chinos, quickly, and snapped a picture of her before she could protest--Kenzie seemed unable to suppress a laugh at his eagerness, and he managed to catch it, her little head dipped down and her grin apparent. My Persephone. @kenzielouwho

“I had such a wonderful day, baby,” Kenzie said, moving around the island to the coffee table, setting the peonies beside the roses. “I got everything else unpacked and called Momby and told her we’re living together now--she seemed surprised but also...sort of okay with it? ”

“I saw your pictures--we definitely need to put one of us with your framed photos, baby. Madeline’s been so good with everything,” Duncan said, going to the fridge and pulling it open--it seemed to contain everything they needed for dinner (pork shoulder, bok choy, mushrooms, broccoli, carrots, zucchini, eggs, green onions), so it was obvious the groceries Kenzie had written down and Duncan had given to Anchaly on his way downstairs that morning had been delivered without a hitch. Duncan turned to the island, where Kenzie had laid out what looked like most of the cooking supplies they would need for dinner: a skinny rolling pin for the dumplings, several large mixing bowls, two cutting boards, Duncan’s kanso knives, and a frying pan for the dumplings as well as his copper wok--spices were lined there too, soy sauce (tamari and light) and garlic cloves and a long ginger root, sesame and olive oil, sriracha, and rice wine. “This is lovely, baby, thanks for setting everything out like this.”

“In anticipation of the evening,” she replied, coming back over to him and staring up at him--the sun hadn’t set yet, so the cool, low light of the the early evening was still illuminating the kitchen, but Duncan saw the lengthening shadows fall over her, through her hair.

“You look beautiful today,” Duncan said, reaching for her, gathering her against him, breathing in her scent. “Oh Kenzie, baby, I’m so glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re home too,” she whispered into him, her little hands skirting under his shirt, falling against his bare torso there, and he leaned into her touch, his lips on her forehead. “Let’s make dinner, okay?”

“I’m making the dumplings,” Duncan said. “I have to prove to you I can actually cook.” Kenzie laughed and nodded. “Okay, but I expect only the best, baby.” “Challenge accepted.”

Kenzie moved to the fridge as Duncan rolled up his sleeves, and she started to pass him the fresh vegetables--he pulled out one of his knives (“Kenz, you should see how great these knives are, watch,”) and started on the pork shoulder, slicing it into tiny tenderized morsels and tossing them in a clear glass mixing bowl beside him for the dumpling filling.

“Wow, baby, you weren’t kidding that you’ve made those before,” Kenzie marvelled, watching him work swiftly at the vegetables, chopping the green onion and garlic cloves and ginger root deftly, tossing them into the bowl as well. “Can I put on some music?” She looked up at him as he worked, her eyes shining, and he paused with the knife. “Baby, you don’t need to ask. This is your house. Everything here belongs to you.” With that Kenzie flitted away from him, that mischievous glint back in her eyes--and as Duncan finished combining the dumpling ingredients, he heard a jumping guitar line with heavy drums come over the speakers, a sultry masculine voice with a British accent bleeding in: I don’t want to go out, I want to stay in, get things done...he could hear Kenzie’s little voice coming back through the living room, singing along in lovely harmonization. She pointed at him playfully, using her fist as a pseudo microphone as he grinned at her, stirring the bowl with a long wooden spoon. “I catch a paper boy, but things don’t really change, I’m standing in the wind, but I never wave bye-bye--but I try, I try!” She wiggled her hips back and forth and tossed her hair and Duncan had to fight the urge to drop the bowl and grab her and press his mouth on hers. Fuck, I love this girl.

“This album is so hot,” Kenzie said, hopping around him, her skirt swirling around her legs, pulling more vegetables out of the fridge and bringing them over to the second cutting board to chop beside him. He leaned down to her and pressed a kiss into her mouth for a moment, stopping himself from tasting deeper even though he wanted to. One thing at a time. “It makes you want to dance and fuck at the same time. Ugh, I love it. You have such a great record collection, baby.” 

Duncan smiled at her. “If you notice anything that’s missing from it make sure you get it with that card I gave you, baby. I know it has some holes still.”

“Well, I noticed you don’t have all of Stevie’s solo albums, which is just not acceptable.” Kenzie was still wiggling her hips to Modern Love, and Duncan could see her toes doing the little lift and twist-out that seemed to be her tick.

“You know what to do, Kenz. Did you ever do ballet?”

“For all of elementary and middle school, yeah. I realized I was never going to be really good at it, my center of gravity is too low,” and Kenzie slapped a hand against her hip, indicating her natural curves there, “but old habits and all that.” Duncan watched her press one foot in front of the other at a side-angle, then move her arms from a low position to above her head, gracefully, turning up onto the balls of her feet, grinning at him.

“Fucking lovely,” he said, sincerely.

“Oh shut up, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie started chopping the vegetables, blushing deeply--Duncan could see the light sunburn on her cheeks from yesterday had already almost faded entirely, so the blush was her own. They grew quiet together, Duncan mixing the dumpling ingredients together in another bowl (flour, salt, boiling water), and Kenzie going to the streamlined stovetop to cook the eggs, then add them to the wok and toss the chopped vegetables in sequences--the garlic and onion, then the rest with the quinoa, using one of Duncan’s many long wooden spoons to toss it all. Duncan watched her in glances between kneading out the dough, then rolling it into round portions, spooning the filling into each one and pressing the edges together--Kenzie looked at him over her shoulder, her expression clearly surprised at how quickly and carefully he could fold them together.

“These are so easy to make, I’ve done them for dinner so many times,” Duncan said, a little embarrassed at her wondrous expression. “I still like ordering takeout, but teaching myself how to do these was one of my “adulting” milestones,” he laughed a little at himself, knowing it was true, and Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Getting away from mom’s constant hovering was one of the other big ones.” Her face softened at that, and she turned back to the wok. Duncan came up beside her with the dumplings lined carefully on the cutting board, frying pan in his other hand. As she tossed the quinoa he pressed his mouth into the side of her hair again, and Duncan felt her lean into him, her eyes fluttering closed. He doused the center of the pan with olive oil and let it warm for a moment, then lined the dumplings neatly in a swirling pattern with a pair of long chopsticks. He noticed Kenzie still watching him out of the corner of her eye, her expression bright--aroused. I didn’t know you could cook so well, baby, he heard her thought, the glow of it. God, it’s fucking sexy. You’re fucking perfect. The most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen and you can cook like that. And you have your own jet. And you have a big cock and eyes like the sky and your beautiful hands exploring me the way they do and your hair falling so perfectly and your mouth and the sweetness of your soul--

He pressed himself against her, hands roughly coming up to her neck and under her breast, the dumplings forgotten for a moment--”You better stop thinking about me like that, baby--” he moaned into her mouth, and Kenzie arched up into him, dropping the wooden spoon into the wok, her hands coming down to his belt to pull at it insistently, “or you can fucking forget about dinner. I’m fucking dying for you, Kenzie--”

“Shhhh, sorry baby, I’ll try to quiet down,” she whispered into him and her mouth was so wet and soft he wanted to force the waistband of her skirt down and bury his face between her legs right there, but she gently pushed him away and dutifully turned back to the wok, her face flushed, Bowie’s elegant voice ringing overhead (see these eyes so green, I can stare for a thousand years, colder than the moon, it’s been so long). Duncan willed himself down from his ardor and turned the electric off, using the long chopsticks to move the dumplings into two shallow black bowls. Kenzie’s quinoa fried rice seemed to be done, too--she flipped the switch on her side off as well and pulled a ladle from the wall where several utensils hung elegantly, moving carefully in front of him (Duncan reached a hand out and trailed it along her waist) to dish a healthy serving into each bowl beside the dumplings.

“Oh my god, this we have to take a picture of,” she said excitedly, pulling her phone out of one of the deep pocket hidden in the skirt. Duncan watched over her shoulder, as she chose a filter, smiling down at her screen--their handiwork really did look delicious.

“Pinot noir?” He asked, hiding how happy her eagerness made him. “It’s my favorite to pair with dumplings.”

“That sounds perfect, baby,” and he could see her typing a caption onto the post; Our first time cooking together, but you wouldn’t fucking know it!!! @duncanshepherd is secretly a master chef! I ain’t bad either. Duncan went into the study and pulled the glass door of his wine box open, selecting a hundred-dollar bottle from the temperature-controlled interior, a five-year vintage. When he emerged from the study, Kenzie was carefully stepping towards the bedroom, their shallow bowls in her hands, two pairs of chopsticks visible in her hand underneath one of them, two of his Linsmore Waterford wine glasses carefully tucked into the crook of her arm. He leaned his hand carefully over her and pulled them out of her grasp by the stems.

“I wanna eat in the bedroom, baby,” she said, eyes steady on him. “I wanna stare into our mirror and think about what we’re gonna do to each other.”

“Fuck, Kenzie,” and he laughed a little again. “You are killing me, baby. I beg of you, end my suffering.”

“Even Princes must be patient,” she replied, and turned away from him, angling her chin up.

This fucking angel. I’m gonna get you, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so good.

By the time Duncan came back in the bedroom with a bottle opener and a small tablecloth to drape on top of the sheets, Kenzie was in the bed, the bowls balanced carefully on her bare thighs--she’d taken her skirt off and was now in only her little lacy crop top and her underwear, the diamonds still glittering at her neck, her hair falling over her shoulder. An ache fell over him to look at her--god, fuck, so soon, hang on a little longer.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said as she got up slowly to let him lay the linen down. He continued to stare at her as he opened the wine bottle, carefully pouring the dark liquid into the glasses, handing one to her after she settled again, their fingers brushing. He saw her eyes skirt back behind him, watching them in the glass of the mirror, looking at the glinting hook and chain that seemed to stare at them, waiting. Kenzie took a long drink, her throat bobbing as she swallowed twice, and leaned back to place the glass on the other nightstand.

“So are you,” she whispered. The record had stopped--the quiet hung around them, not unpleasant but deeply anticipatory, charged with their mutual desire--he could feel it coming off Kenzie is long, rolling golden waves, and he felt drunk already though he hadn’t even had a sip of the wine yet. “I was thinking of that night we went to Le Diplomate, all those roses in the bathtub--god, baby, that was such a wonderful night.”

“Every night feels like that now that you’re here,” he said, and Kenzie didn’t reply, only smiled at him, her eyes forest-bright, using one of her chopsticks to pop a dumpling into her mouth. “Fuck, Dunny, these are so fucking good,” she said, bringing a hand up over her mouthful as she spoke. “Can you make me some with chicken next time?”

Duncan laughed, untying his shoes and pulling them off, climbing onto the bed next to her, hand on her knee. This girl fucking loves chicken. My Kenzie. “Of course baby, you should have put it on the list. I would have made them for you tonight. I’ll make you anything you want, angel.”

“You’re my angel,” and Kenzie leaned up so her little ass was hovering in the air, and she kissed him and Duncan thought dinner can’t be over soon enough, baby. As they ate Kenzie told him about where she’d put all the things she’d unpacked today--going over the nuances of her thinking with him, and Duncan loved every moment of it--the excitement in her voice, the smile on her face, the movements of her hands as she waved them around to her words. “I wonder what Ben’s going to ask you tomorrow?” she said, cocking her head as she popped the last dumpling in her bowl into her mouth. Duncan had finished his food a moment before and was drinking a long mouthful from his wine glass--they were on their second round by now.

“No doubt something very invasive. I plan to be honest with him, but I was thinking of asking him to wait to publish the article he writes until the majority share reverts to me. I don’t...I don’t think it’s going to be very long, Kenzie, like I was telling you yesterday. I think my uncle’s going to die sooner than anyone thought.”

Kenzie was quiet, looking down. He couldn’t see her thoughts at all--they were too indistinct.

“It’s strange to think so much happiness might come from one person’s death,” she said eventually, and he could see the muddled sadness and contemplation in her eyes. “The world is so strange and obtuse sometimes.” He pulled her now-empty bowl from her hand and set it on the nightstand with his.

“Drink a toast with me, baby,” he said, gripping his wine glass. Kenzie seemed to emerge from her contemplative state, and reached behind her to bring her glass against his, giving him a small, secretive smile.

“To you, Mackenzie, and everything you’ve kindled in me. Only you.”

Kenzie’s eyes fell into his--a forest with a starry sky at night, he thought, and he saw the hidden tears there that she was unwilling to let fall. Duncan. My love.

They both drank, but neither of them broke the gaze that hovered between them. When Duncan lowered his glass, Kenzie leaned over to him again, her lips falling into his, tasting of salt and sweet red wine--and she whispered “It’s time for me to get dressed now, baby.”

Duncan groaned immediately--his eyes closing almost involuntarily, now that the moment had finally come.

“I’m gonna go get dressed in the bathroom. You can’t come in. Go get the shoes you want me to wear from the closet, okay? If I have heels on you...you’ll be able to reach me better,” and she kissed him again, her tongue falling into his, her fingers on his jaw--”I’ll come out when I’m dressed. The velvet ribbon is in the drawer with my underwear...the plug and my egg toy are in there too. You can decide what you want to use on me.”

“Fuck, baby--” and he tried to clutch her but she slipped away from him--skipping on her quick little feet in the lacy crop top and her white cotton underwear to the bathroom, swinging the door shut, glancing back at him with a grin--then he heard the lock click. Duncan fell back on the bed, another involuntary groan falling out of him, rubbing his hands down his face. This woman is legitimately everything I have ever wanted, and it makes me feel like I’m always on the verge of cardiac arrest. Get the fuck up and go to the closet, Duncan. You already know what shoes she’s wearing. You already know you’re using both of those toys on her. God, and that gorgeous choker around her little neck--Duncan launched himself off the bed and threw himself into the closet, yanking the drawer he knew he’d organized her (god, it seemed like hundreds) of pairs of panties in--the velvet ribbon, pink egg and the plug with the little white jewel in the end were to the far left, and they seemed to wink at him as he pulled them out. For Kenzie. It’s your duty to make her feel fucking good.

Duncan placed the toys and the thick ribbon carefully on the top of Kenzie’s side of the shelf--under the dangling line of her necklaces. He pulled his socks off, working at the buttons of his Oxford shirt, noticing how badly his hands were shaking--I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to fucking her, honestly, he thought. Every time I can’t believe it, I can’t believe I get to, I can’t believe she chose me, I can’t believe it, an actual fucking angel chose me, I can only try to make her feel as good as possible, I can try, god, Kenzie is so fucking beautiful, her hair and her eyes and her sweet clit and her little round breasts and the tiny dip of her waist and the rising curves of her hips, I’ll never forget how she looked in the starlight on that balcony, I knew, I fucking knew, didn’t I, that she was my fucking Soulmate--and heard a small ripping sound, realizing in his nervous eagerness he’d managed to tear the remainder of the buttons out of their seams towards the bottom. Duncan threw the shirt onto the floor, uncaring--and immediately reached to where he saw the tying strappy gold sandals Kenzie had worn the first night they met--that night, burned into my mind, into my soul, forever. Duncan moved back out into the bedroom, now only in his tailored chinos, the toys clutched in one careful hand, her heels in the other--then he placed everything he was holding gently on the bed, pulling the linen away, climbing onto the bed, leaning against the headboard in a sitting position, facing the bathroom door. Then--he waited, his heart slamming into his ribcage, his stomach somersaulting.

“Baby. Are you ready? Tell me when.”

He heard Kenzie’s voice from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Yes, baby.” He was careful to make his tone even and firm. “Come out.”

The door swung inwards and Kenzie emerged in the frame of it, pushing her golden hair back from her shoulders as she did--her cheeks wildly flushed in the low light, but he could see her desire to fight off her nervousness in her bright eyes--they glittered at him and she smiled. Hey baby.

“Hello, Mr. Shepherd.” Kenzie put her little hands on her hips, cocking her head to him, sending her breathy whisper out to him across the bed.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck, baby.

Duncan immediately sat up--all his composure lost in the rushing tide of need he felt as soon as he looked at her this way, as soon as his eyes fell over the delicate hold of the lingerie on her body--her little breasts and the dip of her hips outlined in the white framing and white flowers of the bra and panties, the sheer tulle embellishing the soft loveliness of her shape and laying it bare for him--the roundness of her nipples, hard in her arousal, and the lips of her sweetness between her legs, any hair there shaved away again, leaving her smooth as silk, held tight in the silky tulle--and the suspender belt around her waist, white flowers sewn along her there and a bow in the center, another in the middle of the waistband of the panties, straps down either thigh clipped to sheer stockings starting a few inches down, a stretch of bare leg between them. Kenzie clutched the rose choker in her hand, its silvery embellishment and dark, smooth black leather making him instantly hard--he felt blood rush into his cock with an almost painful intensity.

“Come here right now.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so demanding, but it was out of him before he realized--his need was like a wave that had washed over him, sudden and colossal. He moved from the headboard to the side of the bed, pressing his feet carefully to the floor, sitting up straight and shirtless, and crooked his hand. Come, angel.

He saw her eyes flicker, felt the surge of emotion come out of her towards him--that’s it, baby, be rough with me, be bossy with me, be my Prince, driven wild with your need for me, I want your hunger, give me all your desire, pour it over me like honey. Then she stepped toward him, swaying her hips just a little, back and forth, her hair glowing, her eyes burning, and when she was close enough, Duncan reached forward with one hand, stretching his long finger to press it against her stomach just above her belly button where the strap of the suspenders laid across her waist, and said “Stop.”

She did, and Duncan could see the wild excitement more clearly in her eyes now--you love this, baby. Oh, Kenzie. You look like heaven. He trailed the finger down, relishing the shiver of her under his touch, being sure to stare into her eyes, down to the soft waistband of the panties, and down further, over their achingly smooth tulle, to dip between the lips of her sex through the fabric--he could feel the dampness there, feel how wet she was already--and a shudder fell down his spine, rocking his body forward toward her. He fought the urge to force her against him, to pull her into his mouth, and reached across the bed to the strappy heels, leaning down to her (bowing to you my love) to place them on the floor, facing her. Then Duncan reached for her little hands, pulling the choker out of one and setting it on the bed beside the other things there, and Kenzie stepped toward him carefully, knowing what he wanted without him having to speak.

Duncan slid off the edge of the bed, onto his knees in front of her, as she stepped carefully into the heels, and his hands came out to the straps, tying them with aching gentleness. Kenzie’s little hands fell down into his hair, and he heard a tiny moan escape from her mouth. He could see their reflection in the mirror behind her--the panties were entirely transparent in the back, showcasing her round little ass, kindling the desire growing low in the pit of his belly. God, I love your round little ass, baby, and you told me you want me to spank you, fuck. He looked away from the mirror, back up into her eyes, finishing one heel in a double-knot, his hands moving to the other ankle, meticulous and slow. As he finished, Duncan’s lips fell against the sheer stocking, his mouth moving up to the bare stretch of thigh between the straps on her legs--and Kenzie’s head fell back, a tiny, whimpering cry escaping her now.

He lifted his head up from his kisses, hands gripping into the bottom of her ass now, his eyes turned to her face. Kenzie smelled like roses and vetiver, but there was a muskiness underneath her perfume that reminded Duncan of the way he’d sometimes felt looking at The Youth of Bacchus alone in the middle of the night, the sleepless midnights he’d studied it to low music coming from his turntable, his mind hazy with bourbon and animalistic lust. The Bacchanalia. The revelry of the wine god. Wantonness. Your need for me, my love. “Okay, baby. Turn around now, and walk to the mirror, and lift your hands up to the chain, and hold it.”

“Uh huh, baby.” Kenzie’s voice was shiveringly low--and the supplicant edge in it made Duncan feel as though the seams of his mind were being pulled apart. This angel is going to unravel into soft sweet spools of pleasure into my hands and I don’t know if I can stand it. Kenzie turned towards the mirror--Duncan saw the flush rebound in her cheeks as she looked at herself fully there, and despite her shyness, he could tell she liked what she saw, liked herself with a desirous approval. That’s right, baby, you look fucking beautiful, and you know you do. That’s right. She stepped carefully to where the chain extended down, still staring at herself, a smile falling across her mouth, her lips painted lightly pink, and her eyes came back up into his in their mirror as she reached up to where the chain hung just above her, her grip loose and languid, her mouth opening a little, her little body stretching in the tulle lingerie just enough to bring a heady wave of need through his mind again.

“I’m gonna tie you to that hook now, baby.” Duncan continued to stare at her, reaching for the velvet ribbon from the corner of his eye in the mirror’s reflection, standing up. Kenzie couldn’t seem to suppress her grin--she bit into her lip as he approached her from behind, his mouth hovering just at her neck, but not touching her. She moaned a little, needy. “And then I’m gonna strap this tight around your little neck,” and his fingers trailed down the rose choker’s soft leather strap, now clutched tightly in his fist, his eyes inside hers. “And when you’re tied up nice and tight, baby--only then will I kiss you,” he whispered into her skin, and he watched a shiver extend up her back, the smile slipping away from her mouth, but she still bit into her lip, harder now, her breath more harsh. Duncan turned his eyes up to where the chain hung down, her little fingers twined in it--he placed the choker carefully on the floor beside them, then reached up with the ribbon, his fingers brushing against hers now, and she shivered again--then he pushed the end of the ribbon through one of the chain’s links, then across to the other that hung down beside it. He pulled the ribbon through until its length was evenly distended, then he crossed the two ends and brought the first one around Kenzie’s left wrist, twisting it around her twice--then did the same with her other wrist, and then he brought the two ends together with a yank, so Kenzie’s wrists were pressed together, tethered to the chain with just enough of a stretch to make her little chest rebound with a gasp. Then Duncan tied the two ends at the bottom of her wrists, now pressed together, in a firm double-knot.

“Try to move your wrists, baby.”

Kenzie pulled down, struggling against her constraints. Her wrists stayed tightly bound, her body now prostrate in the mirror, lifted up so he could see every inch of her in the white-and-transparent-tulle ensemble, and Duncan couldn’t help but feel hot, aching arousal at the power he knew he had over her in this moment--now, you’re mine.

“Baby,” Kenzie breathed. “The straps are underneath my panties--so you can slip them off without having to unclip the suspender. So you can fuck me with everything else still on.”

Duncan’s eyes fluttered close at her words--another surge of need through the length of his cock, staggering him. “I’m gonna strap your choker on now, baby.” He watched her breath catch as her shoulder blades rose and fell, a little more labored now with the effort to breathe with her arms lifted above her head, and he leaned down to grasp it, unbuckling it carefully with measured, slow precision, their eyes locked. The choker came unbuckled with an oiled silence--Duncan lifted it around her chin and he saw her eyes flash, seem to spin (the universe inside her, turning, colossal, its greatness focused on me) as he carefully pressed its smooth underside against the white, delicate rise of her neck. Kenzie breathed in, once, sharply--her mouth fell open, and her breath rattled out, overwhelmingly fragile and gossamer-slight. Duncan steadied his mind and the surge of heat to his groin, then brought the buckle around the back, deftly pulling the strap through the metal trappings, one end, then the other, and culled it until the choker was stretched tight around her, the rose winking below her jaw in the clear-golden sheen of the mirror. Duncan tugged it one more time--Kenzie gasped a little at the tightness, but didn’t protest.

“Good, baby, good,” he murmured into her ear, his hand coming around to trail down the rose, down the strap below her jaw, checking that it wouldn’t constrict her airway too much--checking that it was tight enough--snug to the point of the edge. “Baby, you’re doing so good--you’re my angel baby, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, baby, Duncan, yes, I’m yours. I’m yours, my Prince.”

“Kenzie. Okay. I’m gonna take your panties off now. And then I’m going to kiss you.”

“Yes, baby, please.” The desperate longing in her voice--Kenzie was begging now, her little mouth dipping open, her eyes shining. He could see tears at the edges of them--”Please kiss me, baby.” God, that rose. My little rose. My achingly sweet Persephone, supine in my hands.

Duncan brought his hands, gently, to the edges of the achingly delicate panties, and then he slid them, carefully, quickly, down from her hips, exposing the smooth hairlessness of her vulva, glimmering with moisture, and the cheeks of her round ass, shivering under his gaze, the bottom of her golden hair brushing against the small of her back. Kenzie stepped out of them as he brought them down around her feet in the little golden heeled sandals, kneeling again--this time he pressed his mouth into the delicate space at the back of her knee, and Kenzie’s leg buckled, a moan falling out of her, this one louder and full of need, her head coming back and her wrists straining against the velvet. “Ahh, baby--”

“Shhhhh,” he soothed, looking at her in the mirror, the shiver of her breasts in the sheer tulle, the tightness of the straps on her thighs, the tiny dip of her waist wrapped in the tailored suspender, the wonderful curve of her hourglass shape. “Shhhhh, baby, we’re just getting started. Stay with me, Kenzie.”

“Uhh, Duncan--”

Duncan kissed further up her thigh until his lips pressed into the round softness of her asscheek--she leaned back into his mouth, her eyes rolling upwards--Duncan bit softly into the flesh there, his fingers twining through the straps along either edge of her backside, and she cried out a little again, softly. He worked his way up, his mouth pressing into the small of her back and then up the delicate incline of her spine, pushing her hair aside with a firm hand, gripping it with a delicate, possessive tightness. His other hand came around to the silky tulle around her breasts, caressing her with a slowly building need, feeling around her hard nipples, a heady roughness buried in his touch, and Duncan’s mouth pressed into her shoulder blades, first one, then the other, then into the nape of her neck where he could feel the hairs there prickling under the choker as she shivered, her head dipped to the side, her eyes half-lidded, lost in the sensation of his touch. He moved around to face her, glancing at them in the mirror for a moment (we looking fucking good together baby--you’re my goddess of spring, aching and open and bursting into bloom, I’m your god of shadows and riches, I’m yours entire), then turning to her.

“I’m going to take the rest of my clothes off, then I’m going to kiss you more, baby.”

“Okay,” she whispered, “Show me that gorgeous cock, baby.” Kenzie’s wrists strained around her confinement again--her eyes shimmered at him, full of lust now, and he could see the way the choker was laboring her breathing--flushing her cheeks, forcing her mouth to hang open.

Duncan leaned back, his back touching the coldness of the mirror behind him--and he lazily pulled at his waistband, pushing the chinos down until they pooled at his ankles, kicking them away, eyes buried in the sight of her, shivering, wrapped in velvet ties, strapped into transparent tulle, gold hair in the light, pink lips open for him, the choker gripping her throat. Time to frustrate you, my little angel, all tied up and about to get fucked so hard--but not quite yet.

He dipped his hand down into his tight black briefs, biting his lip a little, staring into her liquid eyes--Duncan moaned as his fingers fell along his erection, its mound straining through the fabric--Kenzie whimpered, eyes fluttering and he grinned at her.

“You like that, huh, angel? You like watching me touch myself?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Yes. I love it.”

“I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby.”

“Uh huh.” Kenzie’s mouth opened more, and her little tongue came out to lick along her bottom lip, her labored breathing making her shoulder blades cascade up and down, her stomach shudder, her thighs shiver. “Please, baby. Please fuck me, baby.”

He pushed the briefs off with a lazy hand, slowly, the other one still gripping his length--a sigh of pleasure fell out of Kenzie’s mouth as her eyes fell over his nakedness, and Duncan let go of his cock, leaning off the mirror and standing straight, the better to absorb her gaze, loving the way her gold-flecked eyes roved up and down his thick length, hungry for him. His hands came against her hips, gripping her against him with a heavy demand, and he pressed his erection flat against her stomach, his mouth coming against hers and his tongue pressing against her tongue, probing into her insistently--he felt her buckle downwards again, shuddering, and pulled her little body up into him with strong hands, dipping one down between her legs, his fingers pushing up into the wetness of her cunt, one finger, then two, then three, and Kenzie arched into his kiss, her eyes closed and the moans now falling out of her in a steady, soft wave. “You’re mine, aren’t you, angel,” he asked as his mouth crashed against hers (sweet honey, wine, spiced nectar), and heard her murmurs and her probes into his mind “Yes, I fucking am,” I belong to you beloved, “I’m yours baby,” Fucking fuck me now baby, “I’m yours forever, I belong to you,” Gimme that cock baby, gimme that big cock, I need you so fucking much, I’m your baby, your angel, I’m fucking weak for you, I can feel myself coming undone--

Duncan broke away from her, loathe to do so but eager for the other things he’d left on the bed--Kenzie whined as he stepped away from her to grip the plug and the egg--he came back around to face her, his back to the mirror again, clutching them both with one hand, and the other hand came out to grip onto her neck harshly against the metal and the leather, pressing her mouth roughly into his again, hushing her lamentations and her need. “Shhhh, baby, be calm. Stay calm. We have a ways to go. Shhhhh, breathe.”

Duncan loosened his grip on her neck and Kenzie sucked in a deep breath--it shuddered out and he felt the pressure of her under his finger tips, the shiver of her throat and the leather and her skin. “I love your hand there, baby,” she murmured, a dazed sheen in her eyes. “I just love that so much.”

“I love you, baby,” he whispered, dipping his face down to hers so his lips hovered over hers, without letting them touch. “To touch you is...heaven. To touch you everywhere like this--it’s fucking heaven. You tell me if anything is too much, okay?”

“Mhmm, baby.”

“I’m gonna touch you more, okay? Kiss me.”

Duncan let his mouth fall down on hers again; Kenzie lifted up into him, her tongue pressing into him again, and his hand came down from her neck to fondle at her breast under the tulle, then he kissed along her jaw and her neck and into the dip of her clavicle and his lips pressed into the tulle around her nipple as his hand went between her bare thighs again, his fingers going into her cunt and emerging wet with her arousal, and he slid his index finger up into her clit, lubricating her as he bit softly into the fabric that covered her breast, and she keened up into him, crying up towards where the hook was now buried in the ceiling. Duncan probed into her cunt again, and then his wet fingers slid back to the pucker of her ass and pressed inside, wetting it with her need, too--back and forth, until everything under his fingers was shuddering and soaking wet, and then he slid the plug into her cunt for a moment--wetting it too, Kenzie rocking back and forth in her constraints--then pushed it into her ass as he stared into her eyes and her mouth lifted up to him and she let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a moan--he shushed her with his lips, kissing her deeply, soothingly, sending calming waves of gold-silver into her from the center of himself, and he felt her soften under him, felt her soothe, felt her calm inside the intensity of the moment.

“Okay, baby, breathe,” he whispered into her again, and Kenzie nodded, wrists straining a little against the velvet again, hair shimmering, eyes wide--he pressed gently into the jeweled end of the plug and she shivered, but didn’t cry out this time, biting into her lip. “I’m gonna use this on you now.” He opened his palm with the pink egg inside it. “And then I’m gonna fuck your sweet little pussy. And then I’m gonna fuck your tight little ass.” He pressed against her again, hands clutching at her asscheeks, spreading them out from the plug, making her gasp. “And you’re gonna tell me when to spank you. And you’re gonna tell me when to stop, okay? Okay, baby? And I’m gonna do what you say. And I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, Kenzie, my Kenzie, I love you--”

“Yes, baby, fuck yes, yes, I love you,” Kenzie was shuddering helplessly again.

“Breathe, baby, just breathe, okay? Remember to breathe.”

“Uh huh, okay--” Kenzie blinked rapidly, shook her head a little as if to clear the haze away, and  Duncan thought fuck, Kenzie, I fucking love you so fucking much, I love you so much, I love you, I love you and then he turned the knob on the egg and the rounded end hummed with vibration and he brought it up, carefully but pointedly, into the mound of her clit between her legs--Kenzie jerked forward, lifting her neck, her eyes drifting upwards again and then into his, her mouth open and her moan immediate. “Dunny--baby--fuck, I can’t--fuck, that feels--uhhhh--” and with that Duncan moved around behind her, clutching the egg harshly against her as she keened back into him, her moans rising in intensity, and he looked up at her in the mirror now, looked at her little wrists tied tightly into the velvet, looped through the chain that hung from the sturdy hook far above them, gazed over the cascade of her soft chestnut hair and her eyes, half-lidded, overcome, staring into his over her shoulder, the white fall of her arms extended helplessly, the flash of the silvery rose under her chin and the tight strap of the leather buckled tightly against her neck, the erotic loveliness of her body in the lingerie, fitted against her with its achingly tight touch, the straps at her thighs and the bareness between her legs where he pressed the egg between her lips on the round bud of her clit, her slender legs in the sheer stockings and her little feet strapped into the golden heels, and his lust crested into the front of his mind and he pushed himself, dripping with precum and painfully hard and raw, into the wet canal between the plug inside her little ass and the rise of her clit, an impossibly warm space that seemed as though it was made for him and him alone.

“Duncan, fuck me,” he heard her voice, suddenly very clear and very demanding, a clear command that he knew he had to obey, knew he would obey fully, and pressing the egg harshly into her clit Duncan pounded his length in and out of Kenzie with a primitive concentration that demanded he remove any other thought from his mind--there was nothing for awhile but the two of them locked together, Duncan staring into the shape of her in the mirror, this mirror like a spell that’s weaving us together even more tightly, even more utterly, irrevocably, a spell around our sex that will make us close beyond all earthly pleasure, fucking her with an intensity of sensation that left them both speechless and unable to feel the reality of anything except the press of his thick length into the stretch of her cunt, up into her, so deep he wondered if he’d ever reemerge. Duncan’s hand shuddered and he dropped the egg from her clit--”I need to touch you baby, I want to touch you--” he murmured, and Kenzie nodded, her mouth open, her moans returning, sucked back into her lungs. “I’m so--fuck, baby, I’m so--god, you feel--like we’re locked together--”

“I know baby, I know--fuck--”

Duncan pressed his middle finger into her clit, rubbed back and forth, wetting it with her arousal, slicked along the space between the lips of her--let his finger fall down to the opening where his cock was pounding into her, unceasingly--back up into her clit, and his other hand coming up to her neck again, his mouth biting down into her shoulder. Kenzie let out a little scream of pleasure--one that reverberated in his skull like someone had rung a giant bell right next to his ear, and Duncan pressed his hand into her neck more harshly, cutting off her cries--”Shhhh, baby, be inside it with me--breathe, feel me, feel all of it--”

Kenzie quieted, and he could feel her throat working under his hand, trying to catch her breath--he loosened his grip and she gasped, and as he fucked her, pounding his entire length into her again and again he pushed his index and middle fingers roughly into her mouth. “Suck, baby, suck,” he demanded, and he watched her eyes flutter open and shut as her lips closed around his skin, doing as he instructed needily, a thin line of saliva dripping down the side of her mouth as his palm gripped around her chin, his mouth at the space under her ear, open and desperate for her, his senses overwhelmed in her.

“I’m gonna fuck your ass now baby, okay--” and he watched her nod in the mirror, knew she wanted him to, and Duncan pulled out of her and waited for a moment, lifting her down a little, his mouth staying there, breathing into her skin, and he moved his hand down to grip at the plug gently--he felt the pressure against his hand as she pushed it out of her, and Duncan dropped it on the floor, instantly forgotten. Then he took a deep breath and stared at her--her expression was dazed and her eyelids fluttered again, and then she nodded to him again as he pulled his fingers out of her mouth. “Do it, baby,” she said. “And spank me.”

Duncan positioned the head of his cock at the entrance of Kenzie’s tight little asshole--then he pressed into her, his eyes rolling back--Kenzie let out another little aching cry, but this one was more controlled, edged with a demand for pleasure--that’s it, baby, Duncan thought into her, feel it with me, I know you’re doing it now, it’s like we’re coming together, against each other, blending into each other--and then he brought his palm down, flat and insistent, on her right asscheek with a loud snap.

“Oh fuck yes, Duncan,” Kenzie said, and her voice was demanding now, as he moved his cock in and out of the impossible tightness of her, her eyes full of such an intensity of gold he felt mesmerized by them, utterly unable to look away. “Do it again.”

Duncan brought his hand up, hovering for a moment, then back down again with even more force--the snap that reverberated off Kenzie’s skin echoed up into the high ceiling and Kenzie gasped, the sound of her sharp and heavy in his ears. “Yes. Fucking yes. Again.”

Duncan’s eyes drifted closed--fuck baby, that makes me so fucking hard. Fuck, that unravels me into a thousand strands, your commands, your ecstasy at this from me. He steeled himself, then lifted his left hand this time--he brought it down at an angle, and as his slap reverberated off her skin he saw the immediately outline of his hand begin to form there--the harsh red marks on her right were forming as well. “Fuuuuuuck me,” Kenzie moaned, and Duncan continued to plunge himself in and out of her--let it go, let it all go, he thought into her, let everything that isn’t us go, baby, your little wrists in velvet, your body in silken bindings and dark leather at your perfect throat, your needs prostrate against my needs, our souls pressing into each other, baby--Duncan brought his hand down against her left asscheek three more times in quick succession until Kenzie was whimpering on the edge of tears--”Baby, should I stop--” he said, breathing harshly--

“No, baby, no, don’t stop, don’t stop--”

Duncan sucked in a deep breath, his body shuddering--he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on now, such was the grinding need gnawing into him from where the lips of her impossibly tight ass were gripping at his cock--and he hesitated, loathe to hurt her, even for her pleasure. “Please, just a little more, baby,” she murmured as he did, and then Kenzie’s eyes met his in the mirror again and she said “Do as I say, baby, fucking spank me,” and he moved his hand up over her right cheek again and brought it down three times in quick succession, each one harder than the last, and she gasped and shuddered and she said “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” and then Kenzie was looking into his eyes through the mirror’s crystalline surface as she screamed and lifted herself back into him, straining against her bound wrists, and Duncan moved his face down to the space beneath her ear again and continued to fuck her as he watched the spasm of her cunt, watched the wetness of her release drip down her legs in the reflection, watched her eyes flutter closed and then he was coming deep inside her and groaning into her neck, the sweet sweat of her on his tongue, one hand pressed tightly to her clit, the other coming up into her hair and twisting there. “Baby, Kenzie, sweet angel, beloved, Kenzie, princess, baby love--” his words bled out of him until he couldn’t stop, murmuring every sweetness he could think of into her as she gasped, and the muskiness of her was overwhelming to him, and he felt lost in it as if she were a sky full of stars and he were floating inside her vastness, untethered, minute. Then he came back to himself and pulled out of her, watching the thin line of come that fell out of the head of his cock, down his thigh and the inside of the back of her leg, dripping down the space behind her knee. 

Duncan immediately reached up and worked at the knots that pushed Kenzie’s wrists together--he could see how she was sagging against them, her knees shaking, and he worked quickly to untether her--as he lifted her down from the chain Kenzie seemed to collapse down toward the floor, and Duncan reached behind her shoulders, bringing her gently earthwards where she hovered in his arms, her face turned against him, her cheek resting on his bare chest as he looked down at her, worried, gently clasping her wrist, red with the harshness of her straining, and kissed it again and again--lifted her other wrist to mouth to repeat the motions, over and over, fretting over her. His hand came up to work at the buckle around her neck, quickly pulling the choker away--he moaned a little to see the red marks it had left on her throat, his fingers coming up to massage her there, watching the shudder of her breathing--

“Kenzie, are you okay, is everything okay, your body--”

“Yes, baby,” her voice was tiny but she gave him a sleepy smile, her eyes fluttering open. “Yes, Dunny, I’m okay. I feel amazing.”

He smiled down at her with relief--then Duncan lifted her up and carried her to the bed, laying her with aching softness on top of the duvet, eyes still roving over her face with concern, hands coming down to the laces of her heels, undoing them carefully and quickly with soft hands, dropping the shoes on the floor. God, was that okay, is she okay, she seems like she’s on the verge of passing out, is she really okay--

Kenzie’s eyes snapped open--they were surprisingly clear suddenly, and she looked down at him, cocking her head on the pillow.

“My green tea ice cream!” she said, suddenly. “I want it.”

Duncan gave her a puzzled look, winced, then burst into a peal of laughter.

“Kenzie. Baby. Fuck. Kenzie. You are...you’re the most wonderful person I have ever known, Mackenzie Stone.”

She smiled at him, her eyes hazy-bright, and he felt her push her love into him--resplendent and approving and satisfied--and then Kenzie shut her eyes again.

“Thank you, baby. I feel the same way about you. Now, can you go get me my ice cream, please?”