lacy
Pairing: Finan (The Last Kingdom)/Original Female Character
Summary: Aisling Cooke, down on her luck and in need of money, becomes Finan's sugar baby.
Additional Notes: I originally wrote this for Kinktober as a gift for @persephones-journey (thanks for letting me play with your dolls babe), but after a while I thought about scrapping it (aka not letting it leave my ellipsus documents like, ever lol) but after some encouragement, picked it back up. So everything that's in this is what I planned from beginning to end with no cuts or revisions. As always, I lightly edited this, so if there's any spelling mistakes, my bad lol.
if you'd like to read this on my ao3, you can also find it here.
Aisling remembered the first time she met Finan.
It happened like this:
She was twenty-two, had just bought her first apartment—it was a small one-bedroom with enough space to have a bedroom and a bathroom—and was a year out of college. Still, she was burdened with the one thing most college grads had once they graduated—student loans.
Aisling did the math. It would be impossible to pay off unless she suddenly was given five-thousand dollars in her bank account.
Her waitressing job wouldn’t cut it. She didn’t get enough tips to even think about crunching the numbers to see how many years that would take.
So she did what needed to be done; she signed up for a sugarbaby website. Aisling went on her way for a week, working her long shifts at the little diner pouring coffee and giving people their food. She didn’t have time to check her phone, working twelve hour shifts made her tired as it was. Whenever her break came around, Aisling would wolf down the leftover food and go back to work when it was over. And then, once she finished her shift, would go home and relax before going to bed.
Needless to say, she didn’t have much of a social life. Her life was consumed by work and bills—one thing she struggled to pay on time. She was relieved to barely pay them on the day.
On the second week, her phone screen lit up with a notification. Aisling was in her apartment reading one of those bodice rippers her mom used to own—though her mom didn’t want it anymore, thus it was hers now—when her phone caught her attention.
Securing her page with a folded post-it note, she closed her book momentarily to click on the notification and was brought to the website.
Congratulations, you’ve been matched!
Aisling’s eyebrows knitted together as she absentmindedly tucked a piece of her rust-colored hair behind her ear. She was matched with a man named Finan. Clicking on his profile, she was greeted by a man with dark hair, brown eyes, a full beard, and tan skin. He’d put his age as thirty; Finan was a former Navy SEAL, working as a bodyguard for hire, and was looking for a sugarbaby—a companion.
She’d never step foot in a gym—unless you counted all the times she needed to take gym class in order to graduate—so she knew she wouldn’t be asking him health questions. At first glance, she found him attractive. There was that. But something that lingered underneath she couldn’t help but be attracted to. Something about him she couldn’t pinpoint. But Finan looked nice enough, so she sent him a text.
Aisling: Hello sent at 8:25 p.m
It was a simple message. As soon as she sent it, Aisling shut her phone screen off, put her phone on the small coffee table she bought at a swamp meet, and returned to her book.
Ten minutes later, her phone pinged with a new notification. Curious, she put down her book and picked up her phone.
Finan: Hi Aisling. My friend Uthred says he thinks Romeo and Juliet isn’t a romance. Why do you think it is? sent at 8:35 p.m
She immediately raised an eyebrow. Curiosity was eating away at her, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, amused at whoever this Uthred was.
Because, yes, she was firm on the opinion that Romeo and Juliet was a romance. But not in the sense of oh Romeo and Juliet are stupid teenagers, of course they’d fall in love at first sight. No, not like that. It was the obvious fact that their households had a bitterly rivalry for centuries. The tragedy was that their love wouldn’t survive the play—it even said so in the beginning.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their lives.
It was what made Romeo and Juliet a tragedy, after all. Aisling texted her reply, a smile tugging on her lips.
Aisling: Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy because they’re star crossed lovers. Did Uthred fall asleep during English class? sent at 8:39 p.m
Finan’s reply a few minutes later made her snort.
Finan: Yes.
sent at 8:41 p.m
Chuckling, she replied one more.
Aisling: Well, someone should read it to him. Shakespeare’s meant to be performed. sent at 8:42 p.m
Finan: Really? sent at 8:42 p.m
Aisling: Yes. But I like to construe it too. sent at 8:43 p.m
Finan: Why? sent at 8:43 p.m
Aisling: Idk. I find it entertaining. sent at 8:44 p.m
Finan: I think I might’ve fallen in love with you, Aisling Cooke. sent at 8:45 p.m
Aisling looked at her phone screen for a long moment, unable to know what to say. Her cheeks colored with embarrassment. What could she say to that? Speechless, she didn’t reply for a moment. She didn’t even move her fingers to type on the keyboard.
When she mustered the courage to reply, she typed:
Aisling: Sorry, I didn’t know what came over me. People usually don’t like to hear me talk about Shakespeare. sent at 8:49 p.m
Finan’s reply was instantaneous.
Finan: No, I want to hear about it. Is Friday at seven p.m good for you? sent at 8:50 p.m
Aisling blinked. Then a moment later, all she could think was—Oh, he’s good. A smile crept on her lips as she texted her reply.
Aisling: Friday at seven sounds great. sent at 8:50 p.m
That Friday, she showered, scrubbing her body until it fleshed a lovely shade of pink, moisturized her body with lotion, put on her favorite perfume, slipped into her favorite light green dress, and styled her rust-colored hair with her hairbrush and hairdryer. She wasn’t great at doing a winged eyeliner, so she lined her eyes with a nice light green eyeliner that sparkled under the light. But she was good at applying mascara—that was something to be proud of.
Swiping on her lip gloss, Aisling pressed her lips together, slipped her lip gloss into her purse with her phone, and left her apartment to take the subway to the restaurant. Friday evening was packed with people. But considering she didn’t own a car—too poor—it was either taking the subway or taking the bus. Aisling didn’t want to pay every time she got on the bus, and the pass for the subway wasn’t too expensive.
Besides, she used it everything. Better to pay a monthly fee for something she actually used than something she’d forgot she was even paying for.
Ten minutes later after four stops, Aisling got off the subway, hurried up the steps that led to the street, and texted Finan she’d be arriving in five minutes. The street was crowded, and five minutes later, she stepped into the restaurant.
“Hi, I have a reservation for Finan? He said he’d already be here,” Aisling said to the hostess at the front behind the desk.
“Oh, yes, right this way,” the woman replied.
Aisling followed her upstairs. The atmosphere immediately told her this was a restaurant she could never afford—not with her current job at least. The music was calm, but the guests looked to be people with money. Aisling averted her eyes to look at the back of the hostess’s head, suddenly feeling self-conscious. The green dress she wore was something she bought after months of money saving, a treat to herself. It’d cost a bit of money, so it wasn’t too out of place like something like this, but Aisling couldn’t help the uncertainty that crept up her throat.
They walked upstairs to the second floor, and the presence here was different than downstairs. The first floor was lively; the second floor was quieter with a different classical tune filling the space, but she noticed the people dining on the second floor were much better dressed. Most of the men looked to be businessmen or someone who worked a good job. Men who worked in the heart of the city who could afford a summer house or two.
The hostess led her to a booth that had a nice view of the art museum that one of her friends Jemma worked at. Aisling promised she’d visit one of these days, but considering her job, was currently too busy.
Maybe if this worked out, she could have time to visit once. Aisling always wanted to visit an art museum. She’d visited Jemma at her apartment once and marveled over the second bedroom that was converted into her friend’s art studio. It was a chaotic sight, but Aisling thought it was charming.
Aisling stopped in her steps when she made eye contact with Finan. Her heart skipped a beat when the corners of his mouth curved into a smile, feeling her legs go slightly weak when his eyes twinkled.
If Jemma was here, she’d be tugging her into the bathroom before bursting into laughter at how her cheeks were currently flushed.
“Thanks Caroline, I’ll take it from here.” Finan stood to his feet and gently grasped Aisling;’s hand, a bolt of electricity rushing down her spine. But Aisling didn’t allow herself to jump like she wanted to, letting him guide her to the spot across from him. Sliding into her seat, she watched him take his spot, and she offered a small, awkward smile.
“Are you a regular here?” she asked.
“Uthred is,” Finan said with a shrug. “The food here’s fine, but he likes to spoil us.”
An amused chuckle left Aisling’s lips, the awkwardness lifting from her shoulders as she said: “Is this the same Uthred that fell asleep during English class?”
“The very one,” he acknowledged with a nod.
“And how did he take my comment of someone reading it to him?” she teased.
Finan’s mouth curved into a smile again as he replied, “He was a bit flabbergasted that someone suggested that it should be read to him. He’s… a bit impatient when it comes to reading.”
“He’s never listened to an audiobook?” Aisling queried, raising an eyebrow as her hand reached for the glass of water in front of her.
Taking a sip, she watched him as Finan told her, “He’s always busy. Sihtric and I told him he ought to take a break one of these days to relax, but he’s…”
“—a workaholic?” Aisling supplied when she put down her glass of water.
“Something like that,” he agreed with a chuckle.
“Well,” she noted, “from another workaholic, I think he should take a day off when he can afford it. And by this”—she gestured to the luxurious restaurant—“I think he can.”
“Ya said you worked as a waitress,” Finan stated. Although his statement sounded more like a question. She mildly picked up an accent—Irish, she thought—that made her core clench around nothing.
She was way too over her head. He was everything she liked in a man: tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and had an accent. Even if this didn’t work out, she could memorize his voice for masturbation material; there was that.
Swallowing her anxiety (and maybe her embarrassment too) by drinking some more water, Aisling waited until she put down her glass to reply. “Mhmm. I got the job a year ago. It’s kinda shit, but at least I’m surviving.”
She didn’t want to tell him that just before she joined the site, she almost broke down wondering if she would make her rent. Aisling was lucky that she scraped by, but not by much. If this didn’t go well…
Aisling felt a jolt of electricity run down her spine again as her eyes flickered to her hand, that—
He was holding her hand. He’d reached over to hold her hand.
Fuck, her life was just some fucking historical romance from the eighties. Hand holds and all.
Rendered speechless, she chose not to reply as her blue eyes were transfixed on his hand in hers. She’d seen his picture—saw how broad his shoulders were—so she shouldn’t be so… so… mesmerized by the build of him. She shouldn’t wonder what he looked like underneath, that was anything but appropriate.
But her thought lingered, and it was all she could think about as she kept her eyes on him, her mind wandering as he gave her a reassuring smile. She found herself returning it, her nerves alleviating as Finan inquired if she’d like to look through the menu, and she chuckled.
“I’d love to,” she said, and everything seemed right.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Now, a year later, Aisling checked her phone to see another three-thousand enter her bank account. A sight left her lips as she looked up from her phone screen to look at her bills again. With this three-thousand, she could pay everything off and have one-thousand five-hundred left.
Still, Aisling did the math again. Carried the same two she’d carried two math problems ago to get the same result.
Well, that was good at least. She moved from her phone to her laptop where she’d pulled up all the websites and paid off her bills for the next two months. Her rent was already paid—her landlord seemingly had a change of heart and bumped down her rent by two hundred dollars; it still made her rent one-thousand three-hundred, but she’d take all she would get.
Then, her phone pinged with a message.
Jemma: Sihtric texted me to buy something at the mall for our baby shower. Did you wanna tag along? sent at 2:35 p.m
Aisling: Sure. Is it decorations? sent at 2:35p.m
Jemma: No. He wants me to buy something nice for myself. You know what that means. sent at 2:36 p.m
A smile tugged on Aisling’s lips as a laugh vibrated in her throat. Unlike her, Jemma wasn’t Sihtric’s sugar baby. She worked at an art gallery—Peter fucking overworks me, Jemma had told her on more than one occasion—and signed up as a surrogate at a hospital that her sister worked at. She’d saved up enough money from her second job as an artist, and found herself becoming Sihtric’s surrogate to him and his wife Sigdeflaed. From what Jemma told her, they all somehow found themselves in a relationship through the process, and Jemma was currently in the process of moving into with them.
Aisling didn’t know where Sihtric lived. Never stepped foot into his home. But Jemma told her he and Sigdeflaed lived in a nice townhouse. Big enough to take care of the babies, and enough space for the upcoming family of five.
Aisling did find it amusing when Sihtric suggested if one of their babies was a boy, they should name him after Uthred. Uthred had taken immediate offense, and to make up for not having a son named after him, humbly accepted the godfather position after Sihtric convinced him.
Jemma: Aisling? You still wanna go? sent at 2:41 p.m
Aisling: Sure. sent at 2:41 p.m
Twenty minutes later, Aisling studied the lingerie set she’d taken off a rack. It was a nice forest green—it’d go well with her hair. It was a simple two-piece, nothing too extravagant. It was enough for her. Slipping off her blouse and skirt, she put her clothes in a pile as she slipped on the lacy pieces and snapped a picture for Finan.
Aisling: Does this look okay? {Aisling sent an attachment} sent at 4:21 p.m
Aisling put her phone down next to her purse and turned back to look at herself in her full-body length mirror. Feeling humorous, she did a little twirl and laughed to herself. It did look nice. She looked nice.
Before she could do anything else, her phone started ringing, alerting her that Finan was calling her. Aisling bent over to grab her phone and answered the FaceTime.
“Finan, I’m in the changing room,” she said.
“Are ya still wearing it?” Finan asked.
“Yes, Finan,” Aisling laughed. “I just sent you a picture. Do you like it?”
“Will ya wear it for Sihtric’s baby shower?”
“It’s a baby shower, Finan. I don’t know if that’s appropriate.”
“Sihtric doesn’t need to know.”
“Finan,” she laughed again.
“Love,” he refuted, never backing down.
Aisling sighed after she caught her breath. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”
Finan cocked his head—a clear indication that there really was only one option. The next thing he’d tell her would probably be that Sihtric, Sigdeflaed, and Jemma wouldn’t mind. If she wore it underneath her clothes and no one was none the wiser, then would it be really that bad?
“Okay,” she chuckled. “I’ll wear it, but if you bring it up, I’m telling Sihtric it was your idea, and then you’ll have to explain to him why I’m wearing lingerie at his baby shower.”
“I’d never,” Finan said in mock hurt.
Aisling shook her head. “I’ve got four more sets to try on. I don’t know if you wanted to—”
“—Yes.”
Amused, she secured her phone against the wall of the changing room and stepped slightly out of frame to scourge through the bag for her next set. “Do you want to know the color of this next one?”
“Tell me,” Finan said.
“It’s periwinkle. I didn’t know if it would look good on me, but Jemma said it would look nice.” Aisling moved back into the frame as she reached behind to unclasp the bra hooks before peeling it off, revealing her breasts to him.
“Ya look beautiful in everything,” Finan said quietly, his eyes still trained on her body, tracing every inch with his eyes—a dark hungry gaze that sent heat curling in her belly.
Aisling chuckled softly before bending over slightly to wiggle out of her underwear. “Of course you would say that,” she said after she’d picked it up and set it aside neatly beside the shopping basket. Reaching into the basket, she pulled out the periwinkle set and slipped it on her body, stepping back into the frame.
Doing a little twirl for him, she inquired: “So? How does it look? And don’t”—she sent him a look—“say that I look nice in it because you want to be nice.”
With her rust-colored hair and pale skin, her skin turned to a lovely peaches and cream when paired with softer pastel colors. Aisling’s mother, for a period of time in her life gave her a bright yellow that made her look like an overripe citrus fruit. When Aisling, who was ten at the time protested, saying she looked like a lemon, her mother had sniffed and said, and quote, “Yellow is a happy color. If you wear yellow, everyone will see you’re a happy girl.”
Well, the other kids hadn’t thought she looked happy. Aisling had always been a chubby girl, and when the kids saw her bright yellow clothes, thought she looked positively like a large and bright sour lemon.
Never again would she wear bright yellow. Never.
“It looks beautiful on ya,” Finan said truthfully. “Periwinkle's ya color, honey.”
Aisling’s lips curved into a smile. “Thank you. I really like this one. I mean, I like the forest green one too, but I thought this one would look the best on me.”
“What are the other two colors?” Finan asked, curious.
“Light blue and orange. Think a creamsicle.”
“Creamsicle, huh?” Finan pondered it for a moment. “Let me see that one first.”
Aisling chuckled. “Okay. Give me a second.” She stepped out of the frame again to slip on the creamsicle set before stepping in front of the camera and doing a little twirl. “How’s it look?”
“Not too bad,” Finan said. “Lighter than I thought.”
Aisling looked down at the lingerie before meeting his eyes, saying, “There was a bit of variety for the creamsicle colors. I just didn’t grab the brighter orange. My mom made me wear bright yellow when I was a kid. Bright colors don’t look good on me.”
“I trust ya judgment,” Finan agreed. “That shade looks beautiful on ya.”
She chuckled softly. “Did you want to see the last one?”
“Of course I do.”
Aisling moved to change into the light blue set. The cooler hue made her skin look like peaches and cream, and she tucked her hair behind her ears when she stepped into the camera and twirled for Finan. “I really like this one too.”
“It matches ya,” Finan said, nodding his head in agreement. “Ya should wear that for our date on Friday. With your green dress?”
“The one I wore for our first date?” she laughed.
Finan nodded, completely serious. “And then ya should let me take it off of ya.”
An amused smile played on her lips. “It’s your right.”
Just then, a text message from Jemma appeared on her screen.
Jemma: Are you almost done? Sihtric called—I need to get back really quick to check something at the townhouse. sent at 4:30 p.m
Aisling stepped forward, took her phone off the wall, and typed back her reply.
Aisling: Sorry, Finan FaceTimed me. I’m almost done, coming out in a few. sent at 4:30 p.m
Jemma: Lol sent at 4:31 p.m
Jemma: Tell him I said hi sent at 4:31 p.m
Aisling: Lol sent at 4:31 p.m
Aisling: I will sent at 4:31 p.m
“Finan, I have to go,” Aisling said, angling her phone to show her face. “Jemma needs to drop by the townhouse for something.”
“Have her drop ya off at the loft,” Finan said. “Sihtric’s townhouse won’t be that far.”
Aisling made a confirming noise in her throat. “Alright. I’ll be home soon.”
Home. The word made warmth spread in her chest, and blossomed further when Finan murmured: “I love ya, Aisling.”
“I love you too, Finan,” she whispered. Aisling didn’t know when their relationship—the dynamic between them changed, maybe she’d never know, but she hadn’t minded since then. Whatever they were now, she was happy.
Aisling changed back into her blouse and skirt, meeting Jemma back at the registers. Her puffed-up sleeve blouse was a lovely cream color, paired with a floral skirt. Jemma’s maxi dress billowed behind her as she waved, signaling for her to hurry along before the line moved. Aisling scurried to join her.
Jemma, heavily pregnant, still gave her a grin. Her golden-brown skin glowed from her pregnancy, and made her slanted, almond-shaped brown eyes aglow with something that could only be from her current state in life. Her broad nose crinkled with amusement when Aisling told her what’d happened in the changing room.
“Of course he’d want to know,” Jemma laughed when Aisling wrapped up her tale. “Poor Finan.”
Ten minutes later, she sat in Jemma’s car in the passenger’s seat as she drove her to the loft apartment. Finan bought it a while ago after they agreed to move into it… eventually. Aisling’s lease wouldn’t be over for another five months, but she’d begun to slowly move her things into it. She didn’t know if she would ask another person to take it over for her—so that way she wouldn’t need to sell her furniture—but she’d get there when it happened.
Finan’s lease was already up, and he’d lived in the apartment for the past three months. Aisling had bounced back and forth between the loft and her small, simple apartment for the same duration, but as she thanked Jemma for dropping her off, gathering her things and stepping out of the car, she looked at the loft apartment on the sixth floor of the apartment complex and smiled.
Home. It was home.
She greeted the doorman as she made her way to the elevators, and five floors later, stepped out into the hallway. Walking to the correct door, she unlocked the door and pushed the door open. Silence greeted her as she walked inside and shut the door, locking it behind her.
Aisling unzipped her boots and kicked them off, walking to the bedroom she shared with Finan to put her bag down on the chair. She walked into the kitchen, scrounging in the fridge to see if there were any leftovers. When she didn’t find any, closed the fridge door and walked to the pantry to find a snack. Finding the large box of pocky she’d bought on her last food shopping trip, she pulled out a bag with the horizontal pink strips—the strawberry flavor—and opened it. Procuring a thin coated pocky stick, Aisling plopped herself at the couch, snapped off a bite, and picked up the TV remote to watch one of her reality TV shows she liked to watch.
A bag of pocky and two episodes of the soapy reality show later, Aisling heard the front door open. Picking up the remote to pause the current episode, she got up from the couch to greet Finan at the door. Scurrying, she met him with a smile that quickly turned into her lips parting at the look in his eyes.
The look in Finan’s eyes was practically primal as Finan took her in. His eyes raked down her body before moving upward to meet her bright, caught-in-headlights gaze. Aisling barely heard the front door close as he approached her, and before he could take a step further, she threw herself at him, wrapped her legs around his hips as her lips met his in a hurried motion.
Aisling kissed him with an urgency she’d felt for the past hour, ever since she snapped the picture of herself for him to look at. If she was going to be honest, she only did it with good, innocent intentions. As her Catholic distant aunt liked to say, “Hand on the Bible” or something along those lines.
But now, every fiber of her being was on fire, burning for him. She needed him with a strong desire she hadn’t felt in a while. Having sex with Finan always left her satisfied. Craving him, wanting him, desiring him—she’d felt that many times.
This feeling that ran through her? Aisling couldn’t pinpoint it. She couldn’t describe what it was. She couldn’t call it desire or lust. It was deeper than that. If she didn’t have him inside her, his cock filling her body, she’d probably die.
…Alright, maybe that was a bit much, but in this instance, Aisling was willing to let the dramatics slide. At least for today.
Aisling’s hands fell to his pants, somehow unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper. She’d always looked down when she did it, but today it seemed she was too excited and yet focused. Or maybe she’d just fucked him enough times to memorize where to put her hands. Maybe that too.
She finally broke the kiss when Finan’s hand sank underneath her skirt, sliding into her underwear, and the wet, sucking noise from her cunt filled her ears. A broken whimper vibrated in her throat.
Aisling leaned her forehead on Finan’s as his breathed ghosted her cheek, a deep groan pulled from his chest while he moved his fingers inside her sex, getting his fingers lubricious with her arousal. Finan curled his fingers, pressed the first joint of his fingers on the spot that made her squirm, made her pussy squeeze tighter around his fingers.
The sensation made him throatily chuckle. “Are ya aching for me?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, her thighs quaking around his palm as Aisling weakly tried in an effort to raise her hips to grind her bare cunt on his palm for more friction; to try and alleviate the ache that pulsed in her cunt.
But Finan’s fingers were moving, thrusting inside her, preventing her from moving her hips as she wished. Moans spilled out of her mouth as Finan built a steady rhythm, brushing his fingers on the spot that made Aisling’s voice hitch in her throat, and a feeble whine sounded in her throat when his thumb found her clit, stroking it once. The movement made her hips jerk with surprise; Aisling would’ve nearly slid down the door if it weren’t for Finan wrapping an arm around her to keep her pinned in place.
Aisling hiccuped as Finan circled her clit with his thumb, her cheeks flushed and her hair tousled. She grinded her hips against his hand, meeting the thrust of his fingers; the movement caused her mouth to fall open, little noises quivering in her throat as the pleasure built up in her belly, accumulating into an orgasm that made her thighs tremble as her pussy convulsed around his fingers; her inner walls fluttered, wanting to keep him inside while Finan worked his fingers inside her quivering sex, helping her through her climax until she slumped against him. The movement caused his fingers to slid deeper into her cunt, all the way to his knuckles, making Aisling’s breath stutter.
“Need you,” she slurred. “Want you inside me. Please, Finan, please.”
Finan pressed a kiss to her forehead before sliding his fingers from her cunt, grunting at how her pussy fluttered around his fingers, not wanting him to leave, and then chuckling with amusement when her sex clenched around nothing—her cunt desperate for some part of him to be buried inside her. His hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, his prick long and hard, throbbing his palm, his cock so damn hard because of his ache for her. He’d spent the entire FaceTime call hard in the car while at a stakeout, the urge to push down his pants to wrap a hand around his aching, rock-hard cock to frig himself, to relive himself from the lust coursing through his veins. Or, at least, keeping it at bay until he finished the job and came home to Aisling.
Luckily for him, it’d gone in his favor. He’d finished the job and came home, possessed with a craving he’d never felt. Finan pushed his cock through her pussy, past her lips, sinking into her folds, and then rolled his hips to ensure she took him to the hilt.
Aisling nearly wept when he bottomed inside her. Her cunt stretched, quivered at the sheer size of him—like the first time. But the ache was a welcome one. She wanted to work for it, wanted to earn the right to please him. She wanted to be everything to him.
Her inner walls clenched around his cock, encased him inside her, wanting to revel in the feeling of her pussy wrapped around his erection for a moment. Every time he was inside her… she was whole. Like everything fell into place—like it was meant to be.
Her heart squeezed. She loved him so much.
“Please,” she rasped. Her sex clenched down on his cock, aching, wanting him to move—wanting him to come inside her.
What kind of a man would Finan be if he didn’t honor her request?
Finan gently pulled his erection from her cunt, his eyes fixated on her, watching how her eyebrows furrowed together as a pathetic protesting whine threatened to leave her throat—Aisling was unable to contain the noise from her throat, and Finan’s lips curled into a smirk at the noise; then, he slid the length of his cock back inside her body, filled her up with his cock, and snatched the breath from her lungs.
With his arm wrapped around her to keep her in place, the sounds of their coupling reverberated in the loft as Aisling met Finan’s thrusts with her own, meeting his hips with a frenzy that only fed the hunger that possessed her body—the desire for him that needed to be gorged again and again until her body deemed she was satisfied.
Beads of sweat rolled down her back under her shirt and bra, but it was all for naught as the pleasure controlled every last one of her senses. It was all Aisling could focus on, and her pleasure was doubled when Finan’s hand slipped between their bodies to cup her cunt and slide his thumb between her inner lips and the length of his cock to circle her sensitive clit.
Aisling gasped, hiccuped, and her voice bounced in her throat as her hips stuttered in reaction to the sudden sensation. Finan continued to circle her clit with his thumb, never faltering with his thrusts, her arousal and his pre-ejaculate smeared on her inner thighs and seeped down her legs as Finan guided her closer to her orgasm. When her thighs began to shake, she knew her climax was close. Her hips rose, her cunt clenched, and Aisling cried out when she came around his cock.
Her sex convulsed around his length, and her inner walls fluttered around his shaft as Aisling closed her eyes, the pleasure overwhelming her senses as her pussy clenched down on his cock in an effort to keep him inside her. But Finan eased his cock out of her anyway, continuing on with his thrusts, to draw out her pleasure until she slumped against him.
Aisling whimpered when Finan came inside her moments later, her pussy clenching around his prick once more to take all he gave her. Let the feeling of his come filling her body fill her senses until Finan’s cock softened, and eventually, he pulled himself from her. The length of his cock was slick with her arousal and his come, but Finan leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.
“How are ya?” Finan murmured.
“Hungry,” Aisling heard herself answer shyly.
He chuckled. “Did you check the fridge?”
“I checked the fridge for snacks. I didn’t find any.”
Finan hummed in understanding. “Well—it’s not too late to have a snack. Let’s make some food.”
Aisling nodded in agreement, and then rose to her tiptoes, her cunt still full of his come and kissed him. “Welcome home.”
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Three days later, Aisling stood in the bathroom, fully showered and dressed, having finally recovered from the shared shower she’d spent with Finan.
An hour ago, she’d straddled him to the bed, her hands on his shoulders, riding him, bouncing on his cock—even though she knew they needed to shower and get ready for the baby shower. She knew, she’d just… gotten distracted.
Or rather, Finan had noticed her laying out her lingerie on the door hanger—the forest green set she’d shown him on the FaceTime call—and just as she turned around to ask if he was going to get ready, he strode toward her and pulled her into a kiss, and then… well, she didn’t want to recount the rest.
Aisling, as she grabbed her hairbrush and clicked a button on the hairdryer plug and turned it on, felt the heat that crept up her body at the recollection of the memories. But she began to brush through her damp tresses, which was sprayed with hair product, focused on the task at hand. After blow-drying her hair, and styling it with her brush, she applied a little bit of makeup, and put her unplugged hairdryer away in the cabinet.
At the sound of Finan’s footsteps getting close to the bathroom, she opened the door to see him stand before her.
“Ya look beautiful,” Finan said.
Aisling looked him up and down. Finan had changed out of his usual attire—usually a nice button-down shirt and dress pants with clean dress shoes—into a simple dark t-shirt and dark washed jeans. His beard was nicely trimmed and brushed, and his dark hair was still slightly damp, in need of being dried.
“You look very handsome,” she said, her voice light. “Did you need the hairdryer? I’m done. I can wait for you in the living room.”
“I won’t take long,” he said.
Aisling laughed softly, beckoned him inside, dodging his kiss with a giggled “I’m wearing lip gloss Finan” and laughed again at his pout before leaving the bathroom. In the bedroom, she walked to the beside table to unplug her phone from its cordless charger and slipped it into her purse. Pulling out the golden chain that came with it, she slipped it over her, securing her purse on her hip.
Just when she walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, Aisling’s phone pinged in her purse. Aisling pulled out her phone and checked her text messages, seeing that Jemma had texted her.
{Jemma has sent an attachment} Jemma: How's it looking? sent at 4:49 p.m
Aisling chuckled at the sight of Jemma posing in front of a table. Her maxi dress billowed behind her in a bright lavender color—a signifier of the twins sexes—with her dark curls allowed to be loose around her shoulders. Jemma enthusiastically beamed at the camera with fairy lights in the background.
Aisling: It looks great lol sent at 4:50 p.m
Jemma: Is Finan ready yet? sent at 4:50 p.m
As if he was summoned, Finan walked out of the bathroom and their shared bedroom. He walked into the living room, adjusting his belt as Aisling made eye contact with him.
“Are you ready?” she queried, shooting off a quick reply to Jemma.
Aisling: He just walked into the living room. We’re gonna leave in a few minutes. sent at 4:50 p.m
“I’m ready if ya are,” Finan said.
Aisling got up from the couch and went to him. “I’m ready.”
He chuckled. “Let’s go.
Finan sat beside Aisling as he watched people socialize in front of him. They’d arrived ten minutes ago, and after they greeted Jemma, Sihtric, and Sigdeflaed, Aisling moved to grab a plate of food.
“My mom never let me eat this much during things like this,” Aisling said before she started eating.
Finan glanced at her, a flicker of surprise showing on his face. Despite having their arrangement for a year, she never talked about her parents much. He knew she had three siblings; she was the three oldest child with an older brother, an older sister, and a younger sister. Aisling was the middle child—always forgotten, never spoken of, and in her words “could never match up to her sisters.”
“I’m just happy I don’t have to wear yellow,” Aisling chuckled. She plucked at her purple dress—a rich purple that complimented her forest green lingerie she wore underneath, and was complete with a pair of pale gold kitten heels.
Finan tried to imagine what she’d look like in yellow. “Ya would look lovely.”
She chuckled. “Not bright yellow. My mom used to put me in bright yellow clothes—I looked like a bright lemon.”
He had to concede with her on that point. He observed her as she ate, and some kids of the families who came to the baby shower began to play in the corner, and one of them even persuaded Finan to join them.
“We’re playing duck, duck, goose,” one of the kids explained with a toothy grin. “You can play our goose!”
“Is it because I’m tall?” Finan japed, turning to Aisling for an answer. Aisling just smiled, her cheeks pink with warmth, her ocean blue eyes sparkling like the sun sparkling down on the sea, and she tipped her head back and laughed.
“Yes,” she teased, “it’s because you’re tall.”
Finan snuck glances at Aisling while he played with the children. She ate her food while watching them, looking seemingly lost in thought. He always wanted to know what she was thinking about; always wanted to know how her brain worked. Somehow, the distant look on her face tugged something in his chest. It began as a soft little jab—it didn’t hurt at first, but as he focused on her (as the children wanted to take a break) the feeling blossomed into a strange paralyzing sensation that felt like ice in his body.
She looked lost, his little dream. Like someone who was looking a vision of the present that should’ve been her past. Finan glanced down after a kid tugged at his shirt, enthusiastically telling him they wanted to play one more round before returning to their families.
Just before he allowed himself to be taken away back into the formed circle, Finan wondered if she was looking at a reflection of herself—what she wished she could be.
The thought nagged him even after the baby shower was over, and Finan volunteered to help put everything away. It was a welcoming distraction from the thoughts that cumulated in his head. Aisling stood off to the side, discussing something with Jemma and Sigdeflaed, Whatever was being discussed, she was nodding along in agreement and she was replying back to whatever Jemma and Sigdeflaed was telling her.
Something grew in his heart. But before he could focus on it, Sihtric spoke his name and handed him another box of things and Finan picked it up, the thought leaving his mind.
When they arrived back at home, they moved to their bedroom after taking off their shoes at the door, and Aisling inquired if he could pull down the zipper of her dress.
Finan grasped the zipper gently, murmuring for her to hold still as he held onto the bottom of the zipper before pulling it down. Aisling shimmied out of her dress, leaving her in her lingerie as she took her dress from him, striding to her closet to put it back on the hanger. He followed her, watched the swing of her hips, and quietly wrapped his arms around her when she closed the closet door.
“Have I ever told ya I want to know what goes on in ya pretty little head?” Finan said.
Aisling chuckled softly, the noise warm as it vibrated in her throat. “No.” Then she lifted her head and tilted it slightly to the side so she could look at him. “Why?”
“I just want to,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. “I wanna know what ya are thinking about all the time.”
Aisling, amused, continued to look at him with a gleam in her eyes. “I don’t know if you do,” she teased him, her voice light with humor, “my mind’s a very boring place. If I don’t think about snacks, then I think about books, and if I’m not thinking about snacks or books, I’m usually thinking about how many steps I need to take so I can take a nap.”
“And I want to know all that,” Finan told her earnestly.
She laughed. Then, something shifted in her eyes as she queried: “Is there something wrong?”
He blinked. “What do ya mean?”
“Earlier,” Aisling said, “when you were playing with the kids, I saw you looking at me.”
Still not moving from his spot, Finan answered, “I saw ya looking… different.”
“Like what?” she prompted.
“Ya were… staring off into space. Like ya weren’t physically here. Ya were looking at the kids, too.”
Aisling turned her eyes away from him to look at the full-length mirror that was hooked to the closet door. Clad in her forest green lingerie, she looked a sight in front of Finan. Finan was still dressed in his clothes, and the spot allowed him to see how the lace clung to her body. He had a moment to see it on their FaceTime call, but it was nothing compared to seeing it in person. The dark green lace was tantalizing to him—lying atop the swell of her breasts and stopping just shy of her thighs—like a map he could trace with his fingers; or with his tongue.
Finan ran his forefinger down her bicep almost lazily as he continued to gaze at her in the mirror.
“I thought about it,” Aisling said after a small silence, catching his attention. “When I was watching you with the kids… I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like.”
“Like what?” he murmured, even though he had a sinking suspicion of the answer, his cock growing hard in his pants.
Aisling squirmed slightly against him at the evidence of his desire that pressed against her. “I just thought what it would be like if we”—she squirmed again as she tried to wiggle against him, her cunt clenching around nothing, the familiar ache building in her belly—“if we had a baby, like—”
“Like Sihtric?” Finan said, his voice low with desire.
Finan saw a shiver run down Aisling’s spine. His hand pressed gently on her belly, trying to imagine what she’d look like—her belly rounded and swollen with their child. Aisling’s eyes followed him, locked in on his palm as quiet filled the room.
Just then, her phone started to go off. It was a loud blaring, jarring sound that made her nearly jump out of her own skin.
“I’ll get it,” Aisling said hurriedly, barely twisting herself out of his embrace before scurrying to the bedside table where her phone was. Finan followed her, watching as she picked up her phone and her eyebrows scrunched together, and then all the color drained from her face.
“Aisling?” he asked, a note of hesitancy in his voice. “Are ya alright, love? Who is it? Is it Jemma?”
A full-body tremble wracked her body. And yet Aisling’s phone still rang until it reached the third ring. But then whoever was calling on the other side called again, the same ringing tone that sounded shrill.
Finan went to her immediately, brought her into an embrace, hiding her from her phone as he gently took it from her hand. Glimpsing at the caller ID, he didn’t recognize it as someone she had in her phone. Finan wasn’t the type to look through her phone—he only memorized Jemma’s phone number because she was Aisling’s friend, and he had her number in his phone too.
This number? He’d never seen it before.
“Do ya want me to answer it? Whoever’s calling”—Finan looked down to see as the person called again for a third time—“they’re very persistent.”
“I don’t want to talk to them,” Aisling mumbled.
Noticing her distress, Finan gently raised her chin with a simple movement of his thumb. “Strip. I’ll start a bath for you. And I’ll put your favorite blanket in the dryer. Did you want me to make the mac and cheese you like? The one with cheese with bread crumbs on the side?”
Aisling sniffed. “You don’t need to do all that.”
“Ya are mine,” Finan said simply, like that was all it was to it. “I take care of what’s mine.”
A small beat of silence fell over the room that was cut off by the continuous, obnoxious ringing that pierced through the quiet. Then, Aisling nodded meekly. Finan helped her strip her lingerie from her body, carefully memorizing every inch of her naked body to his mind, even if he’d done it countless times before.
He’d never get tired of it—looking at her naked.
Once Finan pulled a hot bath for her—with her favorite liquid soap—and put her favorite blanket in the dryer, just as he entered the kitchen to make her favorite mac and cheese for her, Aisling’s phone went off once more.
Really, who could be so insistent on calling her this much? Finan began to boil the water and finally answered the call when he brought out the four cheese blocks.
“Finally, Aisling!” A woman’s voice shouted on the other side of the line. “How many times have I told you to get better at answering your phone? Do you know how long it took for me to track down your new number? How could you treat your mother like this?”
Finan didn’t answer for a moment. The woman’s voice—the woman who brought Aisling into this world—her voice sounded strident and was rough on his ears like someone had rubbed a piece of sandpaper on his cheek.
If this woman really was her mother, he could understand why Aisling would want to be away from her as far as possible.
“Aisling—”
“This is Finan.” He adjusted her phone on his shoulder as he pulled out the cheese shredder. It was a pretty pink with different parts to shred cheese and even chop vegetables, but today, he’d use it to shred the four blocks of cheese. “I’m Aisling’s husband. Who are you?”
When he heard silence on the other side of the phone, Finan chuckled lightly, like this was just amusing to him, and hung up the phone. Swiping the block option on the number, Finan put it on the counter, far away from where he was going to cook, and heard the water slosh in the bathroom.
Before he could control himself, his footsteps carried him to the bathroom. Aisling laid in the bathtub, her rust-colored hair draped on her wet shoulders, stuck together.
“Was it my mother?” she asked tiredly.
“It was no one important,” Finan said smoothly.
Aisling chuckled, the noise hollow. She turned her head and said: “I heard what you said.”
“I want to stop this,” Finan said softly, his hand reaching for hers—for her left hand. “I want you to be mine.”
She kept her gaze on him as her ocean blue eyes grew misty with tears, the water sloshing around her as she moved to be closer to him. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Finan’s thumb caressed her ring finger, empty with no ring. At least—not yet. “Let’s do it tomorrow. Just you and me.”
Aisling nodded. “I’ll wear my green dress and the light blue set you like.”
Just as he pulled her close for a kiss, her phone went off again. Aisling pulled away from the embrace, stood up, and rinsed herself off. Cladding her body in a towel, she stomped out of the bathroom to the kitchen where her phone was going off.
“Why are you calling me?” she snapped, and then a beep noise echoed in the kitchen, the person was on speaker.
“It’s dad, Aisling,” a soft feminine voice poured out. “He wants to see you.”
